MAFANIKIO YA SERIKALI YA DARUSO 2017/2018 CHINI YA JILILI JOHN JEREMIAH
Awali ya yote ni imani yangu kuwa wana Daruso au wanafunzi wenzangu wa chuo kikuu cha Dar es salaam ni wazima wa afya na mnaendelea vyema katika utekelezaji wa majukumu yenu.
Pili nikiwa kama mwana daruso niliepata uhalali kupitia katiba ya daruso ya 2012 ibara ya 9(1) na pia kwa kutimiza matakwa ya katiba hiyo ya daruso ibara ya 9(2). Hivyo kama mwana daruso halali nimeona ni vyema kutumia haki yangu niliyopewa kupitia ibara ya 10(VI) (C) ya kutoa maoni au kueleza fikra zangu na mawazo yangu binafsi dhidi ya Daruso au uongozi wa daruso.Ni fikra hii au tafakuri hii imejikita katika kuchambua utendaji wa viongozi wetu hawa ambao tuliwapa dhamana ili kututumikia ikikumbukwa kuwa uongozi huu unaelekea kwenye ukomo wake hivyo ni vyema kuchambua utekelezaji wao namna walivyowajibika katika uongozi wao hasa kwa kuangazia mihimili yote mitatu ya daruso yaani serikali ya daruso,bunge la daruso(USRC) na mahakama ya daruso.Na leo nitaanza na mhimili wa serikali ya daruso chini ya mh Rais ndugu Jeremiah Jilili ambae ndie kiongozi mkuu wa Daruso 2017/2018 kwa mujibu wa madaraka yaliyokasimiwa kwake kupitia katiba ya daruso 2012 ibara ya 16(I)(II) pamoja na ibara ndogo ya 2 ya ibara hiyo. Baada ya kufuatilia kwa kina na kuwahoji baadhi ya wana daruso nimebaini kuwa serikali hii imetekeleza mambo makubwa kwa wana Daruso yaliyonipelekea kuandika waraka huu kutokana na kuguswa na utendaji uliotukuka wa serikali hii chini ya Rais wake ndugu Jeremiah Jilili.
Baada ya kusema hayo sasa nijikite kwenye kiini cha waraka huu ambayo ni matokeo ya tafakuri yangu ya kina dhidi ya serikali hii. Rais wa awamu ya 16 wa marekani Abraham lincolin aliepata kutawala taifa hilo kubwa duniani miaka ya 1861 -1865, wakati akitoa falsafa yake juu ya demokrasia aliwahi kusema ‘’ Democracy is the government of the people by the people for the people’’ akiwa na tafsiri kuwa demokrasia ni serikali ya watu iliyopata mamlaka kutoka kwa watu kwa ajili ya kuwatumikia watu, hivyo kwa mujibu wa falsafa hii ya lincolin tafsiri ya serikali dhabiti au kipimo cha kufanikiwa au kutofanikiwa kwa serikali yoyote ni namna serikali hiyo ilivyowajibika kikamilifu kujihusisha na utatuzi wa kero za watu wake na serikali hii hakika imetekeleza haya kikamilifu chini ya uongozi thabiti wa mh Rais Jeremiah Jilili. Waswahili wanamsemo usemao ‘’mnyonge mnyongeni lakini haki yake mpeni’’ “na ukiona vyaelea basi ujue vimeundwa” hivyo ndugu Jilili na serikali yake hakika wanastahili pongezi.Baada ya kuyasema hayo nijielekeze moja kwa moja kuainisha mambo kadha wa kadha yaliyotendwa na serikali hii chini ya Rais Ndugu Jeremiah Jilili
1.Usaidizi wa usajili kwa wanafunzi 1800
Serikali hii ilifanikiwa kuwasaidia wanafunzi Zaidi ya 1800 waliopaswa ku-discontinue kwa sababu ya kuchelewa kujisajili nje ya utaratibu kwa mwaka wa masomo 2017/2018. Serikali hii ilisimama kidete kuwatetea wanafunzi hawa kwenye uongozi wa chuo na hivyo kufanikiwa kusajiliwa au kupata usajili hii ni hatua madhubuti na ya kuridhisha inayoakisi utendaji wa serikali uliotukuka kwa kujihusisha na utatuzi wa kero au shida za watu wake.
2.Ufunguzi wa Daruso Bar
Hili nalo ni moja kati ya mafanikio mengi yaliyoletwa na serikali hii chini ya mh Rais Jeremiah Jilili ambae alihakikisha anawajibika kikamilifu kutimiza ahadi yake kwa wana daruso alioitoa wakati wa kampeni ambapo suala hili la daruso bar lilikuwa kilio kikubwa cha wana daruso kwa miaka nenda rudi toka kufungwa kwa Bar hiyo takribani miaka minne iliyopita.Na suala hili la daruso bar limekuwa mjadala na mtaji wa kisiasa kwa serikali nne na baadhi ya viongozi kwenye majukwaa ya kampeni za siasa za daruso ila haikufanikiwa kurejeshwa kwa namna moja au nyingine mpaka ndugu Jeremiah Jilili aliposhika hatamu ya Urais wa Daruso alipambana kikamilifu kuhakikisha Daruso Bar inarejea kwa kuushinikiza uongozi wa chuo kuirejesha daruso Bar na katika hilo ndug Jeremia Jilili na serikali yake walifanikiwa na bar hiyo ikazinduliwa rasmi 2/3/2018 na kurejea tena kutokana na uwajibikaji wa serikali hii chini ya Rais Jeremiah Jilili na mpaka sasa inatoa huduma kwa wana daruso na kurejesha burudani iliopotea kwa takribani miaka minne.
3. Nipige tafu
Huu ni mfumo mpya ulioanzishwa au kuasisiwa na serikali hii chini ya Mh Rais ndugu Jeremiah Jilili kutokana na ubunifu,uthubutu,na utashi wa kiongozi huyu wa Daruso na serikali yake.Chini ya uongozi wake serikali ya daruso ilianzisha utaratibu wa wanafunzi kudhaminiwa na serikali yao hata kama hajasajiliwa hudhaminiwa na daruso kupitia form maalumu zinazoitwa Nipige tafu zilizokuwa zinatolewa ofisi ya Waziri mkuu Daruso zinazomwezesha mwanafunzi kupata fedha na kisha kulipa mahitaji ya msingi na kisha kusajiliwa na hapo baadae akishapatiwa fedha zake kurejesha kwenye akaunti ya chuo .Hii imechangia kupunguza usumbufu na adha kubwa wakati wa usajili haswa kwa wale wanufaika wa mkopo waliokuwa wakisubiri fedha hizo kutoka Bodi ya mikopo
Pia katika sekta hii serikali ya daruso imepambana kupigania idadi ya wanaonufaika na mikopo UDSM kuongezeka na kufikia jumla ya 13,898 hii ni kutokana na I) 13,596 walipata kutoka bodi ya mkopo , II) 222 wale mwaka wa kwanza ambao fedha zao zilifanyiwa miss-allocation ya chuo na kupelekwa kwingine lakini walisaidiwa na serikali hii na kupata fedha zao, III) 61 walipata kwa msaada wa daruso , IV) 19 walipata kutoka kwenye makampuni mbalimbali.Hakika hii ni tafsiri ya serikali inayoshughulika na shida za watu wake.
5.Cafteria za COICT na JPM hostel
Toka kuzinduliwa kwa hosteli hizo na kuanza kutumika rasmi hapakuwahi kuwapo na huduma za Cafteria na kusababisha kero kubwa kwa wanafunzi wakaazi wa hosteli hizo na sisi sote tulikuwa mashuhuda katika hilo kwa kusababisha wanafuzi hao wakaazi wa hosteli hizo kutembea umbali mrefu ili kupata huduma ya chakula lakini Rais wa Daruso ndugu Jeremiah Jilili na serikali yake walisimama kidete na kulivalia njuga suala hili kwa kupambana na urasimu uliopo ndani ya uongozi wa chuo na hatimae mwishoni mwa mwezi wa pili cafteria hizo zilifunguliwa kwa pamoja katika hosteli hizo na wanafunzi kupata huduma karibu na kutatua kero zilizokuwapo hapo kabla.
6.Ununuzi wa runinga (Tv)
Pia ukosefu wa runinga katika hosteli za mabibo ,coict,na magufuli kulikuwa ni changamoto kubwa na kero kwa wanafunzi wakaazi wa hosteli hizo hususani wale wapenzi au mashabiki wa mpira wa miguu waliokuwa wakilazimika kutembea umbali mrefu haswa mida ya usiku kwenda kwenye bar na pub mbalimbali na bado kuingia gharama ili kuweza kuangalia mpira ila kwa sasa wanapata huduma hiyo kwenye hosteli zao za mabibo,magufuli na CoICT.Hosteli zote zimekabidhiwa runinga hizi mpya na za kisasa na mh Rais wa daruso ndugu Jeremiah Jilili,huu ni uthubutu wa aina yake unaotendwa na Rais huyu ndg Jeremiah Jilili japo fedha hizo za kununulia runinga zilitoka nje ya bajeti ya daruso ila zilikwenda kutumika kutatua kero za wana daruso waishio katika hostel za Magufuli na CoICT.
7.Kumalizwa kwa unyanyasaji wa wakaazi wa JPM hostel
Hii pia ni hatua mojawapo kati ya nyingi ambazo serikali hii chini ya Mh Rais ndg Jeremiah Jilili ilichukua ili kupigania usawa na haki kwa wana daruso waliokuwa wakinyanyaswa au kudhalilishwa haswa katika hosteli za Magufuli. Ikikumbukwa kuwa hosteli za Magufuli ni mpya na wanafunzi wakaazi wa hosteli hizo 2017/18 ambao zaid ya 95% ni wa mwaka wa kwanza hivyo baadhi ya sheria na taratibu za chuo walikuwa hawazifahamu kutokana na ugeni wao ndani ya chuo hiki hivyo sababu hii kupelekea kunyanyaswa kwa namna moja au nyingine na baadhi ya walezi na walinzi(Auxiliary Police) baada ya serikali ya daruso kupata taarifa hizi waliitisha kikao kilichowahusisha wanafunzi wakaazi wa hosteli hizo,walezi,pamoja na viongozi wa Daruso ambapo kikao hicho kilifanyika 6/1/2018 na wanafunzi walipata fursa za kutoa kero zao na miongoni mwa kero hizo ilikuwa ni pamoja na kuzuiwa kuingia hostelini hapo nje ya saa sita kamili usiku ambapo ni kinyume na By law kifungu cha 5.2 (I)-(XV),pili ni wanafunzi kupigishwa magoti na walinzi (Auxiliary Police),kunyimwa kuingia na chakula ndani ya geti na wengine vyakula vyao kumwagwa na walinzi hao,baadhi ya walezi kuchukua rushwa kwa wanafunzi na wengine kuwatoza wanafunzi faini kubwa kinyume na taratibu halali za chuo.Baada ya wanafunzi kutoa kero zao serikali ya Daruso chini ya Rais Jeremiah Jilili ilitoa tafsiri ya sheria za chuo pamoja na msimamo wao kama serikali ya wanafunzi na kuanzia siku ile hapakuwahi tena kutokea kwa kero hizo.Hii ni kutokana na utetezi wa serikali hii kwa watu wake pamoja na kusimamia misingi ya haki na sheria.
8.Mgawanyo sahihi wa fedha kwa ndaki,shule na taa sisi zote kwa mujibu wa bajeti ya Daruso 2017/2018
Pia serikali hii chini mh Rais ndugu Jeremiah Jilili ilihakikisha inaufuata na kusimamia utaratibu wa kutoa 30% ya bajeti yake kwenye ndaki,shule na taasisi zake kwa mujibu wa katiba ya Daruso hii yote ni kwa minajili ya utekelezaji wa ahadi,sera na dira ya serikali ya 2017/2018 kwa wana daruso na hii yote ni kutokana na usimamizi mzuri wa mh Rais ndug Jeremiah Jilili ambae alichukua hatua hiyo kwa lengo la kupunguza urasimu kwenye serikali yake katika kuwahudumia watu wake au wana Dauruso.
Pia katika sekta hii serikali hii ya daruso chini ya ndg Jeremiah Jilili haikuwa nyuma ilishiriki kikamilifu kwa kuitisha na kuendesha mabonanza ikiwa na lengo la kuwaleta pamoja wana Daruso ikizingatiwa kuwa michezo ni afya,ajira na burudani. Na mabonanza hayo ni kama vile bonanza la Vodacom lililoleta jezi pair 4, mipira 4,na fedha taslimu sh laki nne(400,000/=) walizopatiwa washindi wa mpira wa miguu na basket ball,pia kulikuwa na bonanza la Haloteli nalo lilitoa jezi pair 4,fedha taslimu sh laki nne(400,000/=) na pia waliahidi kutoa kiasi cha shilingi milioni mbili(2,000,000/=) kwa ajili ya kuwalipia ada wanafunzi wa chuo hiki wenye shida mbalimbali.kupitia mabonanza haya yalipelekea wanafunzi kujiimarisha kimichezo na kuibuka washindi wa jumla kwenye mashindano ya TUSA huko Dodoma kuanzia tarehe 14-21/12/2017 na kupata medali 6 na vikombe 6.Ukiachilia hayo pia serikali hii chini ya ndugu Jeremiah jilili kwa sasa inaendesha mashindano ya michezo ya vitivo ambayo imeanza kutimua vumbi toka tarehe 15/4/2018 -22/4/2018 ambayo inahusisha soka kwa wanaume na mpira wa pete kwa wanawake ambapo mshindi wa kwanza kwa kila mchezo atapata sh laki tatu(300,000/=) na kikombe,mshindi wa pili ataibuka na sh laki mbili (200,000/=) mshindi wa tatu sh laki moja na nusu (150,000/=) pia mfungaji bora kwa kila upande ataondoka na sh elfu thalathini (30,000/=) vivyo hivyo kwa mchezaji bora na mlinda mlango bora. Na ikumbukwe kuwa michuano hii inafanyika kwa mara ya kwanza toka 2014 hivyo serikali hii chini ya mh Rais ndg Jeremiah Jilili amefanikiwa kuifufua michuano hii na kuirejesha tena Burundi kwa wana daruso iliopotea toka 2014.
Pia serikali hii ya Daruso imefanikiwa kutekeleza mambo mbali mbali yenye tija na mlengo wa maendeleo kwa wana Daruso mathalani kupitia wizara ya katiba na sheria ya Daruso serikali hii imekuwa ikitoa msaada wa haraka sana pale wanafunzi wenzetu walipokuwa wakifikishwa au kupeleka mashauri yao mahakamani au polisi,pia kupitia wizara ya habari ya Daruso Serikali hii pia imekuwa ikitoa fursa kwa wanafunzi mbali mbali kuhudhuria na kushiriki vipindindi mbalimbali kama vile malumbano ya hoja,pia kupitia wizara ya elimu serikali hii ilifanikiwa kuitisha makongamano mbali mbali ya elimu yaliyopelekea wanafunzi wenzetu baadhi kupata scholarship na wengine kufadhiliwa masomo yao.
11.Ushiriki wa shughuli za kijamii
Chini ya uongozi wa mh Rais ndugu Jeremiah Jilili serikali ya Daruso siyo imekuwa tu ikiwajibika kwa watu wake bali pia imekuwa sehemu ya wana jamii wa taifa letu la Tanzania kwa kushiriki kwa namna moja au nyingine mfano serikali hii ilitoa tamko la kupongeza jitihada za makusudi zilizochukuliwa na mh Rais wa Jamhuri ya Muungano wa Tanzania Dr John Pombe Magufuli alipounda kamati za kuchunguza kiwango cha makinikia na pia serikali hii kupitia tamko hilo ilitoa ushauri wa mambo kadha wa kadha kwa serikali ya Jamhuri ya Muungano wa Tanzania kufanya katika sekta hiyo nyeti ya madini pamoja na nyingine kwa maslahi mapana Zaidi ya Taifa letu.Pia serikali hii imekuwa ikiungana na watanzania wote kupinga,kukemea,na kulaani vikali matukio ya kinyama yenye taswira mbaya kwa taifa letu kama kupigwa risasi kwa mh Tundu Lissu na Akwilina Akwilini mwanafunzi wa chuo cha usafirishaji NIT.
Lakini pia Serikali ya JILILI JEREMIAH JOHN iliweza kukusanya Rambirambi za ajali ya watoto wa lucky Vicent iliyotokea mkoani Arusha tarehe na kufanikiwa kukabidhi 2000000 za kitanzania na pia serikali hii chini ya mh Rais ndg Jeremiah Jilili alifanikiwa kuanzisha ushirikiano na viongozi mbali mbali kama Poul Makonda Mkuu wa Mkoa wa Dar es salaam na Mama Mariah Nyerere mjane wa baba wa taifa.
12. Umoja na mshikamano
Katika hili hakika serikali hii chini ya ndg Jeremiah Jilili inastahili pongezi za dhati kwakuwa imekuwa ikihimiza umoja na mshikimano kwa wana Daruso wote kama kauli mbiu ya serikali inavyosema “united we stand, divided we fall” na matokeo yake wana daruso tumekuwa kitu kimoja kama familia licha ya tofauti mbali mbali tulizokuwa nazo.
Baada ya kusema hayo hakika nitoe shukrani zangu za dhati kwa Rais wa Daruso ndg Jeremiah Jilili na serikali yake hakika kiongozi huyu atakuwa Rais wa kukumbukwa na jumuiya hii ya wasomi kwa namna alivyoshughulika kikamilifu kutatua kero za wana Daruso waliomwamini na kumpa dhamana ya kuwaongoza. Ndg Jilili ametuonyesha kuwa sifa ya kiongozi bora ni kuleta mabadiliko chanya kwa jamii anayoiongoza, waingereza wana msemo usemao “ Leaders are there to bring positive changes to their people” na hiki ndicho ndg Jilili alichokifanya na hakika katika hili anastahili pongezi kwa kila mwana daruso ambae ni mdau wa maendeleo. Viva Jeremiah Jilili utakuwa Rais wa kukumbukwa na wana Daruso nyakati zote kwa alama za matokeo chanya ulizozitia kwenye mioyo yao.
Licha ya juhudi hizo na mafanikio hayo kuna mambo kadha wa kadha yalikuwa changamoto kwa serikali hii na kiongozi huyu maana waswahili wana msemo usemao “penye mafanikio hapakosi changamoto” hivyo eiza Ndg Jilili au serikali yake ilikwaana na kikwazo katika kuwaletea maendeleo wana Daruso kama vile urasimu au ukiritimba kwenye uongozi wa chuo haswa pale viongozi hawa walipokuwa wakiwasilisaha kero mbali mbali zinazowakumba wana Daruso zimekuwa zikichukua muda mrefu kufanyiwa ufumbuzi na uongozi wa chuo mfano Barabara ya kuelekea hosteli za magufuli ambayo imekuwa kero kubwa haswa kipindi cha mvua, mh Rais ndg Jilili na serikali yake wamekuwa wakilipigia kelele suala hili kwa uongozi wa chuo lakini limechukua muda bila kushudgulikiwa.
Wako mwana Daruso,Mchambuzi,mfuatiliaji na mkereketwa Wa siasa za DARUSO
“UNITED WE STAND, DIVIDED WE FALL”
HISTORIA YA KUSISIMUA YA PROF. STEPHEN HAWKING.
Stephen Hawking alikuwa mwingereza mwananadharia wa phizikia, mwanasayansi mashuhuriulimwenguni na mwandishi wa vitabu mbalimbali ambaye historia ya maisha yake ilianzaalipozaliwa Januari 8, mwaka 1942 hadi March 14 mwaka 2018 alipofariki dunia.
Kazi zake za kisayansi zinajumuisha ile aliyoshirikiana na Roger Penrose iliyohusu nadharia yanguvu ya kani ya uvutani na ile inayohusu uchomozaji wa miale ambayo pia ilipewa jina la Hawking.
Hawking alikuwa mwanasayansi wa kwanza kuweka nadharia ya asili ya ulimwengu ambayoilielezea nadharia za jumla na zile za asili ya vipimo vidogovidogo vya nishati.
Alijijizolea umaarufu mkubwa, heshima na tuzo nyingi ikiwemo Medani ya raisi ya uhuruiliyotolewa nchini Marekani. Alikuwa mwanachama wa taasisi mbalimbali Za kitaaluma. Mwaka2002, Hawking aliwekwa namba 25 miongoni mwa waingereza 100 wenye ushawishi mkubwa. Alifundisha kama professor wa hesabu katika chuo kikuu cha Cambrige nchini Uingerezakuanzia mwaka 1979 hadi 2009.
Alijipatia mafanikio makubwa ya kiuchumi kutokana na kazi yake ya uandishi ambayoilitambulika katika ulimwengu wa kitaaluma mathalani ile ya Popular Science ambayo ilijadilinadharia za asili ya ulimwengu na kile cha A brief history of time ambayo ilivunja rekodi yakuwa na mauzo bora ya nakala kwa takribani majuma 237 kwa mujibu wa Sunday times yaUingereza.
Hawking alipata ugonjwa uliojitengeneza taratibu uliojulikana kama Motor neuron disorder ambao ulifanya misuli yake ya mwili kudhoofu taratibu kwa miongo mingi kiasi hata cha kukosauwezo wa kuongea. Hata hivyo aliweza kuwasiliana na watu kwa kutumia kifaa maalumu cha kimawasiliano kilichofungwa mwilini mwake. Huu ndio ugonjwa uliopelekea mauti yake tarehe14 march mwaka 2014.
Hawking alizaliwa January 8 mwaka 1942 huko mjini Oxford Uingerezana baba yake Frank aliyezaliwa mwaka 1905 na mama yake Isobel ambaye alizaliwa mwaka 1913 na kufarikimwaka 2013. Hawking alizaliwa katika kumbukizi ya miaka 300 ya mwanasayansi mashuhuriulimwenguni, Galileo Galilei. Licha ya changamoto za kiuchumi za familia yake, wazazi waHawking wote walisoma chuo kikuu cha Oxford ambapo baba yake alisoma fani ya utabibu hukumama yake akisoma Falsafa, Siasa na Uchumi. Familia ya Hawking ilijiwekea utaratibu wa kilammoja kusoma vitabu.
Alianza safari yake ya kimasomo katika shule ya Byron House huko Highgate, London ambapoalilaumu sana kuhusu maendeleo yake baada ya kushindwa kujua kusoma. Baadae akiwa na umriwa miaka minane alihudhuria katika shule ya St Albans ambayo ilikuwa ya wasichana lakinivijana wadogo wa kiume waliruhusiwa kusoma, baadaye shule ya Radlett huko Hertfordshire. Kimsingi, familia yake ilithamini sana elimu. Mwaka 1958, kwa usaidizi wa mwalimu yake wahesabu, aliyeitwa Dikran Tahta, walitengeneza Computer iliyotokana na vifaa vya saa, simu zazamani na vifaa vingine vya aina hiyo.
Licha ya kujulikana kama “Einstein” akiwa shuleni, Hawking mwanzoni hakuwa na mafanikioya kitaaluma. Lakini kadiri muda ulivyozidi kwenda, alianza kuonesha kuhamasika katikamasomo ya sayansi huku akihamasishwa na mwalimu wake Tahta, alitamani kusoma Hesabuhadi chuo kikuu. Hata hivyo baba yake alitaka asome fani ya utabibu, kwa kuwa hilihalikuwezekana, aliamua kusoma masomo ya Fizikia na Kemia.
Alianza elimu yake ya juu katika chuo kikuu cha Oxford mwaka 1959, akiwa na umri wa miaka17. Mwanzoni alighubikwa na upweke lakini baadaye katika mwaka wake wa pili na wa tatuchuoni, alijulikana na kujizolea umaarufu mkubwa kutokana na uwezo wake kitaaluma. Alipenda zaidi muziki na mambo yahusuyo Sayansi. Alikadiria kuwa alitumia saa 1000 kusomakatika miaka yake mitatu akiwa chuo kikuu cha Oxford. Alifaulu vizuri na kupata daraja la kwanza hivyo kutunukiwa shahada ya heshima katika Sayansi asilia.
Baada ya hapo alianza masomo ya shahada za juu katika chuo kikuu cha Cambridge mwaka1962, alijikita zaidi katika nadharia za jumla na zile zilizohusu asili ya ulimwengu. Wakati huougojwa wake ulizidi kumuathiri lakini taratibu huku akipoteza uwezo wa kuongea. Lakini uleuchunguzi wa madaktari uliobaini kuwa alibakiza miaka miwili tuu ya kuishi ukadhihirika kuwahauna uhalisia. Wakati Hawking anaanza masomo ya shahada za juu, kulikuwa na mjadalamkubwa ulimwenguni kuhusu asili ya ulimwengu, hivyo akateua mada hii na kuiandikia tasnifuambayo ilipitishwa mwaka 1966.
Baada ya kufanya kazi nyingi ikiwemo uandishi wa machapisho ya kisayansi, alirejeaCambridge mwaka 1975 kwa ajili ya kazi na nafasi za juu za kitaaluma hasa katika Fizikia yaKani ya mvutano. Alizidi kutambulika zaidi katika ulimwengu wa kitaaluma. Mwaka 1975 alipata Medali ya heshima ya Eddington na medali ya dhahabu ya (Pius xi) na mwaka 1976 alipata tuzo Dannie Heineman, tuzo ya Maxwell na medali Hughes na mwaka 1977 aliteuliwakuwa Professor wa Fizikia ya kani ya uvutani na mwaka uliofuata alipata medali ya Albert Einstein kama udaktari wa heshima kutoka chuo kikuu cha Oxford. Baadaye mwaka 1979, aliteuliwa kuwa Professor wa hesabu katika chuo kikuu cha Cambridge.
Aliendelea kuandika kazi nyingi za kitaaluma ambazo zilikuwa msingi wa ujifunzaji wa sayansikote ulimwenguni.
Maisha yake ya ndoa yalianza baada ya kukomaa kwa mahusiano kati yake na binti Jane Wilde ambaye alikuwa rafiki mkubwa wa dada yake ambaye walikutana kabla ya kuugua sana, nahatimaye walioana mwaka 1965. Katika mwaka wao wa kwanza wa ndoa, Jane aliishi London wakati akimalizia shahada yake ya awali, na Stephen na mkewe walisafiri kwenda Marekanimara kadhaa kuhudhuria mikutano mbalimbali ya Fizikia. Baadae Jane alianza masomo yake yaPHD na walibarikiwa kupata mtoto wa kwanza Robert ambaye alizaliwa mwaka 1967. Wa piliLucy mwaka 1970 na wa tatu Timothy mwaka 1979.
Licha ya kuwa aliugua sana, hakini Hawking alikuwa si aghalabu kuzungumzia ugonjwa wake. Mahusiano yake na mkewe Jane yalianza kuingia dosari kutokana na misimamo yake hasa ile yakidini kwani hakuamini katika dini jambo lililomkanganya mkewe ambaye alikuwa anaaminikatika ukristo.Hata hivyo mwishoni mwa miaka ya 1980, Hawking alianza mahusiano na mmojawa wauguzi wake Elaine Mason, na baadae alimuoa baada ya kuachana na mkewe mwaka 1995. Hata hivyo kabla ya hapo, mkewe Jane, tayari alikuwa kwenye mahusiano na mwimbajimwenzake wa kwaya Jonathan Hellyer.
Ugonjwa wa Hawking ulimfanya kupooza katika muda mwingi wa maisha yake. Hawking alifariki nyumbani kwake Cambridge, Uingereza asubuhi ya tarehe 14/03/2018 akiwa na umriwa miaka 76, safari yake ya mwisho ilisindikizwa na watu wengi kutoka pande mbalimbali zadunia wakiwemo wanasayansi, wanamuziki na wanasiasa mashuhuri.
Part 3, Chapter 6
The Chestnut Tree was almost empty. A ray of sunlight slanting through a window fell on dusty table-tops. It was the lonely hour of fifteen. A tinny music trickled from the telescreens.
Winston sat in his usual corner, gazing into an empty glass. Now and again he glanced up at a vast face which eyed him from the opposite wall. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption said. Unbidden, a waiter came and filled his glass up with Victory Gin, shaking into it a few drops from another bottle with a quill through the cork. It was saccharine flavoured with cloves, the speciality of the cafe.
Winston was listening to the telescreen. At present only music was coming out of it, but there was a possibility that at any moment there might be a special bulletin from the Ministry of Peace. The news from the African front was disquieting in the extreme. On and off he had been worrying about it all day. A Eurasian army (Oceania was at war with Eurasia: Oceania had always been at war with Eurasia) was moving southward at terrifying speed. The mid-day bulletin had not mentioned any definite area, but it was probable that already the mouth of the Congo was a battlefield. Brazzaville and Leopoldville were in danger. One did not have to look at the map to see what it meant. It was not merely a question of losing Central Africa: for the first time in the whole war, the territory of Oceania itself was menaced.
A violent emotion, not fear exactly but a sort of undifferentiated excitement, flared up in him, then faded again. He stopped thinking about the war. In these days he could never fix his mind on any one subject for more than a few moments at a time. He picked up his glass and drained it at a gulp. As always, the gin made him shudder and even retch slightly. The stuff was horrible. The cloves and saccharine, themselves disgusting enough in their sickly way, could not disguise the flat oily smell; and what was worst of all was that the smell of gin, which dwelt with him night and day, was inextricably mixed up in his mind with the smell of those —
He never named them, even in his thoughts, and so far as it was possible he never visualized them. They were something that he was half-aware of, hovering close to his face, a smell that clung to his nostrils. As the gin rose in him he belched through purple lips. He had grown fatter since they released him, and had regained his old colour — indeed, more than regained it. His features had thickened, the skin on nose and cheekbones was coarsely red, even the bald scalp was too deep a pink. A waiter, again unbidden, brought the chessboard and the current issue of The Times, with the page turned down at the chess problem. Then, seeing that Winston’s glass was empty, he brought the gin bottle and filled it. There was no need to give orders. They knew his habits. The chessboard was always waiting for him, his corner table was always reserved; even when the place was full he had it to himself, since nobody cared to be seen sitting too close to him. He never even bothered to count his drinks. At irregular intervals they presented him with a dirty slip of paper which they said was the bill, but he had the impression that they always undercharged him. It would have made no difference if it had been the other way about. He had always plenty of money nowadays. He even had a job, a sinecure, more highly-paid than his old job had been.
The music from the telescreen stopped and a voice took over. Winston raised his head to listen. No bulletins from the front, however. It was merely a brief announcement from the Ministry of Plenty. In the preceding quarter, it appeared, the Tenth Three-Year Plan’s quota for bootlaces had been over-fulfilled by 98 per cent.
He examined the chess problem and set out the pieces. It was a tricky ending, involving a couple of knights. ‘White to play and mate in two moves.’ Winston looked up at the portrait of Big Brother. White always mates, he thought with a sort of cloudy mysticism. Always, without exception, it is so arranged. In no chess problem since the beginning of the world has black ever won. Did it not symbolize the eternal, unvarying triumph of Good over Evil? The huge face gazed back at him, full of calm power. White always mates.
The voice from the telescreen paused and added in a different and much graver tone: ‘You are warned to stand by for an important announcement at fifteen-thirty. Fifteen-thirty! This is news of the highest importance. Take care not to miss it. Fifteen-thirty!’ The tinking music struck up again.
Winston’s heart stirred. That was the bulletin from the front; instinct told him that it was bad news that was coming. All day, with little spurts of excitement, the thought of a smashing defeat in Africa had been in and out of his mind. He seemed actually to see the Eurasian army swarming across the never-broken frontier and pouring down into the tip of Africa like a column of ants. Why had it not been possible to outflank them in some way? The outline of the West African coast stood out vividly in his mind. He picked up the white knight and moved it across the board. There was the proper spot. Even while he saw the black horde racing southward he saw another force, mysteriously assembled, suddenly planted in their rear, cutting their comunications by land and sea. He felt that by willing it he was bringing that other force into existence. But it was necessary to act quickly. If they could get control of the whole of Africa, if they had airfields and submarine bases at the Cape, it would cut Oceania in two. It might mean anything: defeat, breakdown, the redivision of the world, the destruction of the Party! He drew a deep breath. An extraordinary medley of feeling — but it was not a medley, exactly; rather it was successive layers of feeling, in which one could not say which layer was undermost — struggled inside him.
The spasm passed. He put the white knight back in its place, but for the moment he could not settle down to serious study of the chess problem. His thoughts wandered again. Almost unconsciously he traced with his finger in the dust on the table:
‘They can’t get inside you,’ she had said. But they could get inside you. ‘What happens to you here is for ever,’ O’Brien had said. That was a true word. There were things, your own acts, from which you could never recover. Something was killed in your breast: burnt out, cauterized out.
He had seen her; he had even spoken to her. There was no danger in it. He knew as though instinctively that they now took almost no interest in his doings. He could have arranged to meet her a second time if either of them had wanted to. Actually it was by chance that they had met. It was in the Park, on a vile, biting day in March, when the earth was like iron and all the grass seemed dead and there was not a bud anywhere except a few crocuses which had pushed themselves up to be dismembered by the wind. He was hurrying along with frozen hands and watering eyes when he saw her not ten metres away from him. It struck him at once that she had changed in some ill-defined way. They almost passed one another without a sign, then he turned and followed her, not very eagerly. He knew that there was no danger, nobody would take any interest in him. She did not speak. She walked obliquely away across the grass as though trying to get rid of him, then seemed to resign herself to having him at her side. Presently they were in among a clump of ragged leafless shrubs, useless either for concealment or as protection from the wind. They halted. It was vilely cold. The wind whistled through the twigs and fretted the occasional, dirty-looking crocuses. He put his arm round her waist.
There was no telescreen, but there must be hidden microphones: besides, they could be seen. It did not matter, nothing mattered. They could have lain down on the ground and done that if they had wanted to. His flesh froze with horror at the thought of it. She made no response whatever to the clasp of his arm; she did not even try to disengage herself. He knew now what had changed in her. Her face was sallower, and there was a long scar, partly hidden by the hair, across her forehead and temple; but that was not the change. It was that her waist had grown thicker, and, in a surprising way, had stiffened. He remembered how once, after the explosion of a rocket bomb, he had helped to drag a corpse out of some ruins, and had been astonished not only by the incredible weight of the thing, but by its rigidity and awkwardness to handle, which made it seem more like stone than flesh. Her body felt like that. It occurred to him that the texture of her skin would be quite different from what it had once been.
He did not attempt to kiss her, nor did they speak. As they walked back across the grass, she looked directly at him for the first time. It was only a momentary glance, full of contempt and dislike. He wondered whether it was a dislike that came purely out of the past or whether it was inspired also by his bloated face and the water that the wind kept squeezing from his eyes. They sat down on two iron chairs, side by side but not too close together. He saw that she was about to speak. She moved her clumsy shoe a few centimetres and deliberately crushed a twig. Her feet seemed to have grown broader, he noticed.
‘I betrayed you,’ she said baldly.
‘I betrayed you,’ he said.
She gave him another quick look of dislike.
‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘they threaten you with something — something you can’t stand up to, can’t even think about. And then you say, “Don’t do it to me, do it to somebody else, do it to So-and-so.” And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick and that you just said it to make them stop and didn’t really mean it. But that isn’t true. At the time when it happens you do mean it. You think there’s no other way of saving yourself, and you’re quite ready to save yourself that way. You want it to happen to the other person. You don’t give a damn what they suffer. All you care about is yourself.’
‘All you care about is yourself,’ he echoed.
‘And after that, you don’t feel the same towards the other person any longer.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘you don’t feel the same.’
There did not seem to be anything more to say. The wind plastered their thin overalls against their bodies. Almost at once it became embarrassing to sit there in silence: besides, it was too cold to keep still. She said something about catching her Tube and stood up to go.
‘We must meet again,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we must meet again.’
He followed irresolutely for a little distance, half a pace behind her. They did not speak again. She did not actually try to shake him off, but walked at just such a speed as to prevent his keeping abreast of her. He had made up his mind that he would accompany her as far as the Tube station, but suddenly this process of trailing along in the cold seemed pointless and unbearable. He was overwhelmed by a desire not so much to get away from Julia as to get back to the Chestnut Tree Cafe, which had never seemed so attractive as at this moment. He had a nostalgic vision of his corner table, with the newspaper and the chessboard and the everflowing gin. Above all, it would be warm in there. The next moment, not altogether by accident, he allowed himself to become separated from her by a small knot of people. He made a half-hearted attempt to catch up, then slowed down, turned, and made off in the opposite direction. When he had gone fifty metres he looked back. The street was not crowded, but already he could not distinguish her. Any one of a dozen hurrying figures might have been hers. Perhaps her thickened, stiffened body was no longer recognizable from behind.
‘At the time when it happens,’ she had said, ‘you do mean it.’ He had meant it. He had not merely said it, he had wished it. He had wished that she and not he should be delivered over to the —
Something changed in the music that trickled from the telescreen. A cracked and jeering note, a yellow note, came into it. And then — perhaps it was not happening, perhaps it was only a memory taking on the semblance of sound — a voice was singing:
‘Under the spreading chestnut tree
I sold you and you sold me –‘
The tears welled up in his eyes. A passing waiter noticed that his glass was empty and came back with the gin bottle.
He took up his glass and sniffed at it. The stuff grew not less but more horrible with every mouthful he drank. But it had become the element he swam in. It was his life, his death, and his resurrection. It was gin that sank him into stupor every night, and gin that revived him every morning. When he woke, seldom before eleven hundred, with gummed-up eyelids and fiery mouth and a back that seemed to be broken, it would have been impossible even to rise from the horizontal if it had not been for the bottle and teacup placed beside the bed overnight. Through the midday hours he sat with glazed face, the bottle handy, listening to the telescreen. From fifteen to closing-time he was a fixture in the Chestnut Tree. No one cared what he did any longer, no whistle woke him, no telescreen admonished him. Occasionally, perhaps twice a week, he went to a dusty, forgotten-looking office in the Ministry of Truth and did a little work, or what was called work. He had been appointed to a sub-committee of a sub-committee which had sprouted from one of the innumerable committees dealing with minor difficulties that arose in the compilation of the Eleventh Edition of the Newspeak Dictionary. They were engaged in producing something called an Interim Report, but what it was that they were reporting on he had never definitely found out. It was something to do with the question of whether commas should be placed inside brackets, or outside. There were four others on the committee, all of them persons similar to himself. There were days when they assembled and then promptly dispersed again, frankly admitting to one another that there was not really anything to be done. But there were other days when they settled down to their work almost eagerly, making a tremendous show of entering up their minutes and drafting long memoranda which were never finished — when the argument as to what they were supposedly arguing about grew extraordinarily involved and abstruse, with subtle haggling over definitions, enormous digressions, quarrels, threats, even, to appeal to higher authority. And then suddenly the life would go out of them and they would sit round the table looking at one another with extinct eyes, like ghosts fading at cock-crow.
The telescreen was silent for a moment. Winston raised his head again. The bulletin! But no, they were merely changing the music. He had the map of Africa behind his eyelids. The movement of the armies was a diagram: a black arrow tearing vertically southward, and a white arrow horizontally eastward, across the tail of the first. As though for reassurance he looked up at the imperturbable face in the portrait. Was it conceivable that the second arrow did not even exist?
His interest flagged again. He drank another mouthful of gin, picked up the white knight and made a tentative move. Check. But it was evidently not the right move, because —
Uncalled, a memory floated into his mind. He saw a candle-lit room with a vast white-counterpaned bed, and himself, a boy of nine or ten, sitting on the floor, shaking a dice-box, and laughing excitedly. His mother was sitting opposite him and also laughing.
It must have been about a month before she disappeared. It was a moment of reconciliation, when the nagging hunger in his belly was forgotten and his earlier affection for her had temporarily revived. He remembered the day well, a pelting, drenching day when the water streamed down the window-pane and the light indoors was too dull to read by. The boredom of the two children in the dark, cramped bedroom became unbearable. Winston whined and grizzled, made futile demands for food, fretted about the room pulling everything out of place and kicking the wainscoting until the neighbours banged on the wall, while the younger child wailed intermittently. In the end his mother said, ‘Now be good, and I’Il buy you a toy. A lovely toy — you’ll love it’; and then she had gone out in the rain, to a little general shop which was still sporadically open nearby, and came back with a cardboard box containing an outfit of Snakes and Ladders. He could still remember the smell of the damp cardboard. It was a miserable outfit. The board was cracked and the tiny wooden dice were so ill-cut that they would hardly lie on their sides. Winston looked at the thing sulkily and without interest. But then his mother lit a piece of candle and they sat down on the floor to play. Soon he was wildly excited and shouting with laughter as the tiddly-winks climbed hopefully up the ladders and then came slithering down the snakes again, almost to the starting-point. They played eight games, winning four each. His tiny sister, too young to understand what the game was about, had sat propped up against a bolster, laughing because the others were laughing. For a whole afternoon they had all been happy together, as in his earlier childhood.
He pushed the picture out of his mind. It was a false memory. He was troubled by false memories occasionally. They did not matter so long as one knew them for what they were. Some things had happened, others had not happened. He turned back to the chessboard and picked up the white knight again. Almost in the same instant it dropped on to the board with a clatter. He had started as though a pin had run into him.
A shrill trumpet-call had pierced the air. It was the bulletin! Victory! It always meant victory when a trumpet-call preceded the news. A sort of electric drill ran through the cafe. Even the waiters had started and pricked up their ears.
The trumpet-call had let loose an enormous volume of noise. Already an excited voice was gabbling from the telescreen, but even as it started it was almost drowned by a roar of cheering from outside. The news had run round the streets like magic. He could hear just enough of what was issuing from the telescreen to realize that it had all happened, as he had foreseen; a vast seaborne armada had secretly assembled a sudden blow in the enemy’s rear, the white arrow tearing across the tail of the black. Fragments of triumphant phrases pushed themselves through the din: ‘Vast strategic manoeuvre — perfect co-ordination — utter rout — half a million prisoners — complete demoralization — control of the whole of Africa — bring the war within measurable distance of its end victory — greatest victory in human history — victory, victory, victory!’
Under the table Winston’s feet made convulsive movements. He had not stirred from his seat, but in his mind he was running, swiftly running, he was with the crowds outside, cheering himself deaf. He looked up again at the portrait of Big Brother. The colossus that bestrode the world! The rock against which the hordes of Asia dashed themselves in vain! He thought how ten minutes ago — yes, only ten minutes — there had still been equivocation in his heart as he wondered whether the news from the front would be of victory or defeat. Ah, it was more than a Eurasian army that had perished! Much had changed in him since that first day in the Ministry of Love, but the final, indispensable, healing change had never happened, until this moment.
The voice from the telescreen was still pouring forth its tale of prisoners and booty and slaughter, but the shouting outside had died down a little. The waiters were turning back to their work. One of them approached with the gin bottle. Winston, sitting in a blissful dream, paid no attention as his glass was filled up. He was not running or cheering any longer. He was back in the Ministry of Love, with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow. He was in the public dock, confessing everything, implicating everybody. He was walking down the white-tiled corridor, with the feeling of walking in sunlight, and an armed guard at his back. The longhoped-for bullet was entering his brain.
He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.
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IS IT EMOTIONS OR FOLLOWERS WHO INFLUENCE SELECTION OF PICTURE AND CAPTION BEFORE POSTING?
By David Rweyemamu
Recently the publication of picture with caption have became a part and parcel of daily life among of the people who use social networks, one may post a picture while in a class, on a journey, celebrating birthday, at funeral ceremonies, doing shopping or having a funny at beach and other issues concerning politics, celebrities stuffs or a picture of somewhere in Tanzania or overseas.
Either knowingly or not when someone post a picture or caption via social media, one is communicating with the community which is connected by the network, so whatever posted it carries message to the followers who are audience of that social media.
Publishing of a picture and caption on social media like Facebook, WhatsApp, Instagram and others, always depends much on someone’s ideologies, perception, life background, social status, education level, someone morals as well as influence of people around someone and other many reasons.
It’s true that there some of the pictures or captions when are posted accumulates good number of comments or likes as well as the way are shared to others while some of the pictures do not. To some extent that can be influenced by a kind of a picture itself and caption attached with, but also some one influence and their fame in a certain community can pave the way for such thing to happen.
Sometimes in social media, one can witness some images and captions which bring many question to mind, people can ask themselves question, if a certain picture being posted by someone who is mentally fit or the one posted while un consciously due to some of the pictures lacking all criteria’s of being posted for mass consumption since lacks much Tanzanian traditions and norms tastehood.
For instance, picture showing some one nakedness, dead bodies, people with mental disabilities, children with no clothes. bleeding wounds as well as words or explanations that intends to insult or defame others. Mostly social media users do such kind of mistakes either consciously or not, but under the pressure of ones emotions or social media friends.
But for the side of Lilian Towo, University of Dar es Salaam(UDSM) second year student, ‘’ There is just two issues that I consider before posting, first is external influences like when a particular picture shows me looking beautiful and attractive, also current affairs like that of Lucky Vicent pupil’s accident that occurred last year in Arusha so as to reveal my concern, internal forces are like to express my feelings, if am glad, feel sadness, or feeling sorry to others as well as to express my views either political ones or a support to a certain leader’’. She said
For the side of Isaack Marembo who pursuing B.A in Law Enforcement(UDSM) explained that ‘’Actually I consider my ethical principles though differ from one individual to another, also I do regard others’ perspectives when will be viewing my posts, even if will be my picture, any government official or comedian’’. He added
Asnath Mmbaga, taking BA in Sociology at(UDSM) ‘’Firstly I do consider context and my reputation before posting any picture as well as if am in acceptable and ethical dress code so as to protect my image and respect to those who are going to sight my picture, something which will lead the society to learn from me’’. She said
The last one was Oguna Nyaro who takes B.A in Sociology(UDSM) ‘’Before posting what I put in consideration is only my message which I intend to communicate via such social media’’ . He explained.
Regardless of emotions or followers influence before someone posting a picture or caption one has to keep in mind that any negativities might face them in fore days since whatever published via social media would not perish forever, though you might publish it without knowing the consequence that may occur in the future.
Also, what are the impact would face them during that time, for instance now days when people are appointed to hold some positions, you might find that if the person had already posted some controversial pictures or caption might went viral and some of the organization use social media posts, before hiring people who meet interview credentials , something proves us that there is a need of extending seriousness when publishing our posts.
Image from https://smallbiztrends.com/2016/05/popular-social-media-sites.html
Part 3, Chapter 5
At each stage of his imprisonment he had known, or seemed to know, whereabouts he was in the windowless building. Possibly there were slight differences in the air pressure. The cells where the guards had beaten him were below ground level. The room where he had been interrogated by O’Brien was high up near the roof. This place was many metres underground, as deep down as it was possible to go.
It was bigger than most of the cells he had been in. But he hardly noticed his surroundings. All he noticed was that there were two small tables straight in front of him, each covered with green baize. One was only a metre or two from him, the other was further away, near the door. He was strapped upright in a chair, so tightly that he could move nothing, not even his head. A sort of pad gripped his head from behind, forcing him to look straight in front of him.
For a moment he was alone, then the door opened and O’Brien came in.
‘You asked me once,’ said O’Brien, ‘what was in Room 101. I told you that you knew the answer already. Everyone knows it. The thing that is in Room 101 is the worst thing in the world.’
The door opened again. A guard came in, carrying something made of wire, a box or basket of some kind. He set it down on the further table. Because of the position in which O’Brien was standing. Winston could not see what the thing was.
‘The worst thing in the world,’ said O’Brien, ‘varies from individual to individual. It may be burial alive, or death by fire, or by drowning, or by impalement, or fifty other deaths. There are cases where it is some quite trivial thing, not even fatal.’
He had moved a little to one side, so that Winston had a better view of the thing on the table. It was an oblong wire cage with a handle on top for carrying it by. Fixed to the front of it was something that looked like a fencing mask, with the concave side outwards. Although it was three or four metres away from him, he could see that the cage was divided lengthways into two compartments, and that there was some kind of creature in each. They were rats.
‘In your case,’ said O’Brien, ‘the worst thing in the world happens to be rats.’
A sort of premonitory tremor, a fear of he was not certain what, had passed through Winston as soon as he caught his first glimpse of the cage. But at this moment the meaning of the mask-like attachment in front of it suddenly sank into him. His bowels seemed to turn to water.
‘You can’t do that!’ he cried out in a high cracked voice. ‘You couldn’t, you couldn’t! It’s impossible.’
‘Do you remember,’ said O’Brien, ‘the moment of panic that used to occur in your dreams? There was a wall of blackness in front of you, and a roaring sound in your ears. There was something terrible on the other side of the wall. You knew that you knew what it was, but you dared not drag it into the open. It was the rats that were on the other side of the wall.’
‘O’Brien!’ said Winston, making an effort to control his voice. ‘You know this is not necessary. What is it that you want me to do?’
O’Brien made no direct answer. When he spoke it was in the schoolmasterish manner that he sometimes affected. He looked thoughtfully into the distance, as though he were addressing an audience somewhere behind Winston’s back.
‘By itself,’ he said, ‘pain is not always enough. There are occasions when a human being will stand out against pain, even to the point of death. But for everyone there is something unendurable — something that cannot be contemplated. Courage and cowardice are not involved. If you are falling from a height it is not cowardly to clutch at a rope. If you have come up from deep water it is not cowardly to fill your lungs with air. It is merely an instinct which cannot be destroyed. It is the same with the rats. For you, they are unendurable. They are a form of pressure that you cannot withstand, even if you wished to. You will do what is required of you.
‘But what is it, what is it? How can I do it if I don’t know what it is?’
O’Brien picked up the cage and brought it across to the nearer table. He set it down carefully on the baize cloth. Winston could hear the blood singing in his ears. He had the feeling of sitting in utter loneliness. He was in the middle of a great empty plain, a flat desert drenched with sunlight, across which all sounds came to him out of immense distances. Yet the cage with the rats was not two metres away from him. They were enormous rats. They were at the age when a rat’s muzzle grows blunt and fierce and his fur brown instead of grey.
‘The rat,’ said O’Brien, still addressing his invisible audience, ‘although a rodent, is carnivorous. You are aware of that. You will have heard of the things that happen in the poor quarters of this town. In some streets a woman dare not leave her baby alone in the house, even for five minutes. The rats are certain to attack it. Within quite a small time they will strip it to the bones. They also attack sick or dying people. They show astonishing intelligence in knowing when a human being is helpless.’
There was an outburst of squeals from the cage. It seemed to reach Winston from far away. The rats were fighting; they were trying to get at each other through the partition. He heard also a deep groan of despair. That, too, seemed to come from outside himself.
O’Brien picked up the cage, and, as he did so, pressed something in it. There was a sharp click. Winston made a frantic effort to tear himself loose from the chair. It was hopeless; every part of him, even his head, was held immovably. O’Brien moved the cage nearer. It was less than a metre from Winston’s face.
‘I have pressed the first lever,’ said O’Brien. ‘You understand the construction of this cage. The mask will fit over your head, leaving no exit. When I press this other lever, the door of the cage will slide up. These starving brutes will shoot out of it like bullets. Have you ever seen a rat leap through the air? They will leap on to your face and bore straight into it. Sometimes they attack the eyes first. Sometimes they burrow through the cheeks and devour the tongue.’
The cage was nearer; it was closing in. Winston heard a succession of shrill cries which appeared to be occurring in the air above his head. But he fought furiously against his panic. To think, to think, even with a split second left — to think was the only hope. Suddenly the foul musty odour of the brutes struck his nostrils. There was a violent convulsion of nausea inside him, and he almost lost consciousness. Everything had gone black. For an instant he was insane, a screaming animal. Yet he came out of the blackness clutching an idea. There was one and only one way to save himself. He must interpose another human being, the body of another human being, between himself and the rats.
The circle of the mask was large enough now to shut out the vision of anything else. The wire door was a couple of hand-spans from his face. The rats knew what was coming now. One of them was leaping up and down, the other, an old scaly grandfather of the sewers, stood up, with his pink hands against the bars, and fiercely sniffed the air. Winston could see the whiskers and the yellow teeth. Again the black panic took hold of him. He was blind, helpless, mindless.
‘It was a common punishment in Imperial China,’ said O’Brien as didactically as ever.
The mask was closing on his face. The wire brushed his cheek. And then — no, it was not relief, only hope, a tiny fragment of hope. Too late, perhaps too late. But he had suddenly understood that in the whole world there was just one person to whom he could transfer his punishment — one body that he could thrust between himself and the rats. And he was shouting frantically, over and over.
‘Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia! Not me! Julia! I don’t care what you do to her. Tear her face off, strip her to the bones. Not me! Julia! Not me!’
He was falling backwards, into enormous depths, away from the rats. He was still strapped in the chair, but he had fallen through the floor, through the walls of the building, through the earth, through the oceans, through the atmosphere, into outer space, into the gulfs between the stars — always away, away, away from the rats. He was light years distant, but O’Brien was still standing at his side. There was still the cold touch of wire against his cheek. But through the darkness that enveloped him he heard another metallic click, and knew that the cage door had clicked shut and not open.
Part 3, Chapter 4
He was much better. He was growing fatter and stronger every day, if it was proper to speak of days.
The white light and the humming sound were the same as ever, but the cell was a little more comfortable than the others he had been in. There was a pillow and a mattress on the plank bed, and a stool to sit on. They had given him a bath, and they allowed him to wash himself fairly frequently in a tin basin. They even gave him warm water to wash with. They had given him new underclothes and a clean suit of overalls. They had dressed his varicose ulcer with soothing ointment. They had pulled out the remnants of his teeth and given him a new set of dentures.
Weeks or months must have passed. It would have been possible now to keep count of the passage of time, if he had felt any interest in doing so, since he was being fed at what appeared to be regular intervals. He was getting, he judged, three meals in the twenty-four hours; sometimes he wondered dimly whether he was getting them by night or by day. The food was surprisingly good, with meat at every third meal. Once there was even a packet of cigarettes. He had no matches, but the never-speaking guard who brought his food would give him a light. The first time he tried to smoke it made him sick, but he persevered, and spun the packet out for a long time, smoking half a cigarette after each meal.
They had given him a white slate with a stump of pencil tied to the corner. At first he made no use of it. Even when he was awake he was completely torpid. Often he would lie from one meal to the next almost without stirring, sometimes asleep, sometimes waking into vague reveries in which it was too much trouble to open his eyes. He had long grown used to sleeping with a strong light on his face. It seemed to make no difference, except that one’s dreams were more coherent. He dreamed a great deal all through this time, and they were always happy dreams. He was in the Golden Country, or he was sitting among enormous glorious, sunlit ruins, with his mother, with Julia, with O’Brien — not doing anything, merely sitting in the sun, talking of peaceful things. Such thoughts as he had when he was awake were mostly about his dreams. He seemed to have lost the power of intellectual effort, now that the stimulus of pain had been removed. He was not bored, he had no desire for conversation or distraction. Merely to be alone, not to be beaten or questioned, to have enough to eat, and to be clean all over, was completely satisfying.
By degrees he came to spend less time in sleep, but he still felt no impulse to get off the bed. All he cared for was to lie quiet and feel the strength gathering in his body. He would finger himself here and there, trying to make sure that it was not an illusion that his muscles were growing rounder and his skin tauter. Finally it was established beyond a doubt that he was growing fatter; his thighs were now definitely thicker than his knees. After that, reluctantly at first, he began exercising himself regularly. In a little while he could walk three kilometres, measured by pacing the cell, and his bowed shoulders were growing straighter. He attempted more elaborate exercises, and was astonished and humiliated to find what things he could not do. He could not move out of a walk, he could not hold his stool out at arm’s length, he could not stand on one leg without falling over. He squatted down on his heels, and found that with agonizing pains in thigh and calf he could just lift himself to a standing position. He lay flat on his belly and tried to lift his weight by his hands. It was hopeless, he could not raise himself a centimetre. But after a few more days — a few more mealtimes — even that feat was accomplished. A time came when he could do it six times running. He began to grow actually proud of his body, and to cherish an intermittent belief that his face also was growing back to normal. Only when he chanced to put his hand on his bald scalp did he remember the seamed, ruined face that had looked back at him out of the mirror.
His mind grew more active. He sat down on the plank bed, his back against the wall and the slate on his knees, and set to work deliberately at the task of re-educating himself.
He had capitulated, that was agreed. In reality, as he saw now, he had been ready to capitulate long before he had taken the decision. From the moment when he was inside the Ministry of Love — and yes, even during those minutes when he and Julia had stood helpless while the iron voice from the telescreen told them what to do — he had grasped the frivolity, the shallowness of his attempt to set himself up against the power of the Party. He knew now that for seven years the Thought police had watched him like a beetle under a magnifying glass. There was no physical act, no word spoken aloud, that they had not noticed, no train of thought that they had not been able to infer. Even the speck of whitish dust on the cover of his diary they had carefully replaced. They had played sound-tracks to him, shown him photographs. Some of them were photographs of Julia and himself. Yes, even … He could not fight against the Party any longer. Besides, the Party was in the right. It must be so; how could the immortal, collective brain be mistaken? By what external standard could you check its judgements? Sanity was statistical. It was merely a question of learning to think as they thought. Only!
The pencil felt thick and awkward in his fingers. He began to write down the thoughts that came into his head. He wrote first in large clumsy capitals:
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
Then almost without a pause he wrote beneath it:
TWO AND TWO MAKE FIVE
But then there came a sort of check. His mind, as though shying away from something, seemed unable to concentrate. He knew that he knew what came next, but for the moment he could not recall it. When he did recall it, it was only by consciously reasoning out what it must be: it did not come of its own accord. He wrote:
GOD IS POWER
He accepted everything. The past was alterable. The past never had been altered. Oceania was at war with Eastasia. Oceania had always been at war with Eastasia. Jones, Aaronson, and Rutherford were guilty of the crimes they were charged with. He had never seen the photograph that disproved their guilt. It had never existed, he had invented it. He remembered remembering contrary things, but those were false memories, products of selfdeception. How easy it all was! Only surrender, and everything else followed. It was like swimming against a current that swept you backwards however hard you struggled, and then suddenly deciding to turn round and go with the current instead of opposing it. Nothing had changed except your own attitude: the predestined thing happened in any case. He hardly knew why he had ever rebelled. Everything was easy, except!
Anything could be true. The so-called laws of Nature were nonsense. The law of gravity was nonsense. ‘If I wished,’ O’Brien had said, ‘I could float off this floor like a soap bubble.’ Winston worked it out. ‘If he thinks he floats off the floor, and if I simultaneously think I see him do it, then the thing happens.’ Suddenly, like a lump of submerged wreckage breaking the surface of water, the thought burst into his mind: ‘It doesn’t really happen. We imagine it. It is hallucination.’ He pushed the thought under instantly. The fallacy was obvious. It presupposed that somewhere or other, outside oneself, there was a ‘real’ world where ‘real’ things happened. But how could there be such a world? What knowledge have we of anything, save through our own minds? All happenings are in the mind. Whatever happens in all minds, truly happens.
He had no difficulty in disposing of the fallacy, and he was in no danger of succumbing to it. He realized, nevertheless, that it ought never to have occurred to him. The mind should develop a blind spot whenever a dangerous thought presented itself. The process should be automatic, instinctive. Crimestop, they called it in Newspeak.
He set to work to exercise himself in crimestop. He presented himself with propositions — ‘the Party says the earth is flat’, ‘the party says that ice is heavier than water’ — and trained himself in not seeing or not understanding the arguments that contradicted them. It was not easy. It needed great powers of reasoning and improvisation. The arithmetical problems raised, for instance, by such a statement as ‘two and two make five’ were beyond his intellectual grasp. It needed also a sort of athleticism of mind, an ability at one moment to make the most delicate use of logic and at the next to be unconscious of the crudest logical errors. Stupidity was as necessary as intelligence, and as difficult to attain.
All the while, with one part of his mind, he wondered how soon they would shoot him. ‘Everything depends on yourself,’ O’Brien had said; but he knew that there was no conscious act by which he could bring it nearer. It might be ten minutes hence, or ten years. They might keep him for years in solitary confinement, they might send him to a labour-camp, they might release him for a while, as they sometimes did. It was perfectly possible that before he was shot the whole drama of his arrest and interrogation would be enacted all over again. The one certain thing was that death never came at an expected moment. The tradition — the unspoken tradition: somehow you knew it, though you never heard it said — was that they shot you from behind; always in the back of the head, without warning, as you walked down a corridor from cell to cell.
One day — but ‘one day’ was not the right expression; just as probably it was in the middle of the night: once — he fell into a strange, blissful reverie. He was walking down the corridor, waiting for the bullet. He knew that it was coming in another moment. Everything was settled, smoothed out, reconciled. There were no more doubts, no more arguments, no more pain, no more fear. His body was healthy and strong. He walked easily, with a joy of movement and with a feeling of walking in sunlight. He was not any longer in the narrow white corridors in the Ministry of Love, he was in the enormous sunlit passage, a kilometre wide, down which he had seemed to walk in the delirium induced by drugs. He was in the Golden Country, following the foot-track across the old rabbit-cropped pasture. He could feel the short springy turf under his feet and the gentle sunshine on his face. At the edge of the field were the elm trees, faintly stirring, and somewhere beyond that was the stream where the dace lay in the green pools under the willows.
Suddenly he started up with a shock of horror. The sweat broke out on his backbone. He had heard himself cry aloud:
‘Julia! Julia! Julia, my love! Julia!’
For a moment he had had an overwhelming hallucination of her presence. She had seemed to be not merely with him, but inside him. It was as though she had got into the texture of his skin. In that moment he had loved her far more than he had ever done when they were together and free. Also he knew that somewhere or other she was still alive and needed his help.
He lay back on the bed and tried to compose himself. What had he done? How many years had he added to his servitude by that moment of weakness?
In another moment he would hear the tramp of boots outside. They could not let such an outburst go unpunished. They would know now, if they had not known before, that he was breaking the agreement he had made with them. He obeyed the Party, but he still hated the Party. In the old days he had hidden a heretical mind beneath an appearance of conformity. Now he had retreated a step further: in the mind he had surrendered, but he had hoped to keep the inner heart inviolate. He knew that he was in the wrong, but he preferred to be in the wrong. They would understand that — O’Brien would understand it. It was all confessed in that single foolish cry.
He would have to start all over again. It might take years. He ran a hand over his face, trying to familiarize himself with the new shape. There were deep furrows in the cheeks, the cheekbones felt sharp, the nose flattened. Besides, since last seeing himself in the glass he had been given a complete new set of teeth. It was not easy to preserve inscrutability when you did not know what your face looked like. In any case, mere control of the features was not enough. For the first time he perceived that if you want to keep a secret you must also hide it from yourself. You must know all the while that it is there, but until it is needed you must never let it emerge into your consciousness in any shape that could be given a name. From now onwards he must not only think right; he must feel right, dream right. And all the while he must keep his hatred locked up inside him like a ball of matter which was part of himself and yet unconnected with the rest of him, a kind of cyst.
One day they would decide to shoot him. You could not tell when it would happen, but a few seconds beforehand it should be possible to guess. It was always from behind, walking down a corridor. Ten seconds would be enough. In that time the world inside him could turn over. And then suddenly, without a word uttered, without a check in his step, without the changing of a line in his face — suddenly the camouflage would be down and bang! would go the batteries of his hatred. Hatred would fill him like an enormous roaring flame. And almost in the same instant bang! would go the bullet, too late, or too early. They would have blown his brain to pieces before they could reclaim it. The heretical thought would be unpunished, unrepented, out of their reach for ever. They would have blown a hole in their own perfection. To die hating them, that was freedom.
He shut his eyes. It was more difficult than accepting an intellectual discipline. It was a question of degrading himself, mutilating himself. He had got to plunge into the filthiest of filth. What was the most horrible, sickening thing of all? He thought of Big Brother. The enormous face (because of constantly seeing it on posters he always thought of it as being a metre wide), with its heavy black moustache and the eyes that followed you to and fro, seemed to float into his mind of its own accord. What were his true feelings towards Big Brother?
There was a heavy tramp of boots in the passage. The steel door swung open with a clang. O’Brien walked into the cell. Behind him were the waxen-faced officer and the black-uniformed guards.
‘Get up,’ said O’Brien. ‘Come here.’
Winston stood opposite him. O’Brien took Winston’s shoulders between his strong hands and looked at him closely.
‘You have had thoughts of deceiving me,’ he said. ‘That was stupid. Stand up straighter. Look me in the face.’
He paused, and went on in a gentler tone:
‘You are improving. Intellectually there is very little wrong with you. It is only emotionally that you have failed to make progress. Tell me, Winston — and remember, no lies: you know that I am always able to detect a lie — tell me, what are your true feelings towards Big Brother?’
‘I hate him.’
‘You hate him. Good. Then the time has come for you to take the last step. You must love Big Brother. It is not enough to obey him: you must love him.’
He released Winston with a little push towards the guards.
‘Room 101,’ he said.
We, as DARUSO Writers Club honorably joined the multi-national online students media, The Unipers. The link to the website is,
Recently it has launched in four counties, Tanzania, Malawi, Rwanda and South Africa. Five universities from four countries have joined, including University of Dar es Salaam(Tanzania), University of Malawi(Malawi), Mzuzu University(Malawi), Southern New Hampshire University(Rwanda) and University of Cape Town(South Africa).
We are still looking for the writers for our students media website.
Anyone can join, it doesn’t matter which subject you study or whether you’re joining to get experience in Journalism or just to have fun. We would love to hear your ideas for articles.
It’s great addition to any CV, you will be hired as an intern, but moreover it’s fun. We will be writing fun stories to serious stories that students want to read and have loads of socials. Also there will be great chance that your article will be read from outside of Tanzania, and don’t forget that it will be read by Tanzania students including your friends and even Recruitment Officers.