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| The late Mama Anna Mercant Hans Poppe during her lifetime with son Zacharia |
By Danford Mpumilwa
I must
have been a brilliant 14 year old young boy when I joined form one at
the then just christened Mkwawa High School, formerly Saint Michaels and
Georges, in Iringa region. The year was 1968. I say I must have been
brilliant because out of 45 pupils who sat for the primary school
leaving exam at the then Tandala Upper Middle Boarding Primary School in
Ukingaland in Njombe, only three were selected to join secondary
schools. And I was one of them.
Mkwawa was a very modern school, even by the present dot.com era.
We had everything including a school bakery for our bread; laundry
plant for our clothes, bed-sheets and blankets; refreshment rooms in our
dorms with hot coffee and tea and sandwiches; a grass cutting tractor
for our many sporting fields; underground tunnels connecting our
sleeping quarters and classrooms and cafeteria for rainy days; three
course meals and many other small luxuries including dish-washing
machines for our utensils.
Perhaps
it was on account of these ‘luxuries’ spoiling me that I soon, after my
form one, plummeted in my class performance, which had until then been
top notch. From being number two or three in class to number 30 or so in
a class of 35 students. I was young, enjoying my life and much worse
not knowing or even caring little over such small matters as the
importance of education.
This
went on, much to the consternation of my teachers who knew I had great
potential, until the end of form three when I met one very athletic
young man Eddie. Now Eddie was one class behind me. His family lived in
Iringa town and he liked most of the things I loved like music and field
hockey.
We
soon became friends. On weekends we could visit his mother and siblings
in Iringa town where, I must admit, we greatly enjoyed his mother’s
fresh baked buns and donuts. In no time we were always looking forward
to these weekend visits.
That
is when I came to know his mother, Anna Mercat, a retired teacher who
took keen interest in my school performance. She insisted on going
through my class-work. Initially I resisted but on account of her
mouth-watering bakery products I had to relent. That is when all hell
broke loose. What was I doing? With such a bad class performance I would
simply finish form four with nothing. And what will I do at such a
tender age? She fired at me.
It was
then that she ordered that I, and her son Eddie, would be spending all
weekends at her house in Iringa town. And while there we would be
reading school books and undertaking short exams from her to ensure we
understood all that was in those History, Mathematics, Swahili,
Geography, Biology, Physics and Social Science books.
She
softened up this strict regime with the always most welcome aromatic
buns and donuts accompanied with cupfuls of tea and coffee. It goes
without saying that I soon shocked my teachers with my new school
grades. I even received that year’s ‘most improved class performance
award’.
This
was the time when I came to know all of Eddie’s siblings; his elder
brother Harry who was in the army, young sister Sophie and the younger
brothers, Zacharia, Ceaser, Otto, Moses and Adam. I had become part of
the great family of the Hans Poppes.
However,
I was never to come to know very closely their father Hans Poppe, as he
was always away on military missions. He was a top police commander
whose last post was Kagera Regional Police Commander before he was
killed by Uganda Amin’s marauding soldiers when they invaded Tanzania.
I went
through all the Poppe family’s trying times. Especially when two of
Eddie brothers, Harry and Zachar were detained for treason. Their
mother, who was then ailing surmounted all these troubles. Even when she
lost some her sons – Adam and Moses, she remained the guiding light of
the family – the same guiding light which saw me pass with flying
colours my exams all the way to University where I attained my BA (Hons)
degree.
Last
week, as I arrived from abroad, I received a call from Hon. Justice
Mohamed Chande, our Chief Justice, informing me that Mama Hans Poppe –
Anna Mercat - is no more. I rang my mother, Semerere, in Ilembula,
Njombe informing her the same as she had in due course come to know her
when Mama Poppe was admitted some years back to Ilembula Lutheran
Mission Hospital. Pole! Your mother has gone! She told me sobbing.
Fare
thee well Mama Anna Mercat Hans Poppe! I am proud of what you have made
out of your young sons and daughter. They are now a confident, proud and
self-reliant adults making noticeable positive impact in our community.
I am
proud of what you made out of that silly young idiot from Ilembula
village in Ubenaland who did not know the value of education. That idiot
is me. I am proud of what you made out of me!
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