By Adonis Byemelwa
Energy markets have a way of reminding countries how tightly the world is stitched together. When tensions rise in the Gulf, traders react instantly, shipping insurers adjust their calculations, and tanker routes suddenly feel more fragile than they did the day before. Even before anything explodes, the expectation of instability is often enough to move prices.
That is exactly what tends to happen whenever confrontation intensifies between the United States, Iran, and Israel. The triangle of hostility sits dangerously close to the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow maritime corridor that carries roughly a fifth of the world’s traded oil. If the waterway closes or even looks threatened, global energy markets shudder.
From a distance, the conflict feels remote. But energy shocks travel quietly and quickly, slipping across oceans through shipping invoices and insurance premiums before appearing in places that had nothing to do with the war. In Tanzania, they arrive at fuel pumps, transport fares and grocery prices.
Anyone who has watched global oil crises unfold knows the pattern well. When oil prices rise abroad, bus operators raise fares, truckers adjust delivery costs and food prices start inching upward in local markets. What begins as a geopolitical confrontation becomes a domestic economic reality.
The memory of the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 still lingers in Tanzania’s economic conversations. That war disrupted energy supply routes across Europe, pushing oil prices sharply upward and triggering inflation across import-dependent economies.
In Tanzania the shock arrived quickly, raising fuel prices and tightening pressure on foreign exchange reserves. The lesson seemed obvious: when a country depends heavily on imported energy, distant wars become domestic economic problems.
Yet here is the uncomfortable part of the story. Tanzania’s vulnerability is not the result of an absence of resources. Quite the opposite.
Beneath Tanzanian soil lies roughly 57 trillion cubic feet of natural gas, one of the largest reserves in East Africa. Offshore discoveries over the past decade confirmed what geologists had long suspected: the country possesses substantial domestic energy wealth.
And still, tankers arrive week after week at the Port of Dar es Salaam, carrying imported petrol and diesel needed to keep vehicles moving across the country. The contradiction becomes clearer every time a global energy crisis erupts.
Tanzania holds significant gas reserves but spends billions of dollars importing petroleum products to power its transport system. In economic terms, it is a quiet but persistent drain on national resources.
Recently, President Samia Suluhu Hassan launched a major oil storage expansion project at the port, a $265 million investment designed to increase the country’s petroleum reserves and reduce supply bottlenecks. The project makes practical sense in the short term.
But it also raises a question that has lingered for years in policy discussions. Expanding storage capacity may help Tanzania manage fuel shortages, but it does not reduce the country’s dependence on imported petroleum.
The deeper issue lies in how energy is used across the domestic economy, particularly in transport. Buses, trucks, motorcycles and taxis rely overwhelmingly on petrol and diesel, fuels that must be imported and paid for in foreign currency.
That dependence creates a cycle that economists describe as external vulnerability. When oil prices surge globally, import bills rise immediately, draining foreign exchange and placing pressure on the national economy.
In recent years Tanzania’s petroleum imports have cost the country several billion dollars annually. Every shipment arriving at Dar es Salaam represents another transfer of capital leaving the domestic economy.
Meanwhile, the country’s natural gas resources remain underutilized outside power generation and a handful of industrial applications. The gap between potential and reality has become difficult to ignore.
Compressed natural gas, or CNG, offers one possible bridge between those two realities. Vehicles equipped with dual-fuel systems can operate on both petrol and natural gas, allowing countries with domestic gas supplies to reduce their reliance on imported oil.
Several countries have embraced this transition over the past few decades. Argentina, Pakistan, and Egypt collectively operate millions of CNG vehicles today, largely because domestic gas proved cheaper than imported petroleum.
Tanzania has taken tentative steps in the same direction. A small number of CNG fueling stations now operate in Dar es Salaam, and drivers who have switched fuels often describe dramatic savings in operating costs.
Some report that trips once requiring expensive petrol can be completed at a fraction of the price using gas. But the limited number of stations means drivers frequently queue or travel far simply to refuel.
That gap between potential and reality has become a quiet metaphor across Africa. The continent holds immense natural resources, yet those resources often remain disconnected from everyday economic life.
Across the region, pipelines export gas while households continue relying on charcoal, and tankers import fuel into countries that sit on energy reserves of their own. It is a contradiction that many policymakers privately acknowledge.
There is also, if one listens closely, a sense of frustration about how slowly this paradox changes. Africa’s energy wealth was supposed to transform economies and strengthen domestic industries.
Instead, the continent often finds itself exposed to the same global shocks it hoped to escape. Each geopolitical crisis simply reveals the structural weaknesses that were already there.
Political analyst Lugete Mussa Lugete recently reflected on this dilemma during a conversation with Crown Media in Dar es Salaam. His remarks were less technical than philosophical, but they struck a nerve.
Lugete argued that periods of global economic stress should push governments toward austerity and careful resource management. “When the world economy tightens,” he said, “leaders must tighten too.”
He pointed to everyday examples that resonate widely with citizens. Government delegations sometimes travel with long convoys of vehicles even for modest public ceremonies, consuming large amounts of imported fuel along the way.
Lugete recalled attending an event where dozens of official vehicles arrived simply to inaugurate a village water tank. “One vehicle could have carried everyone,” he remarked, “but instead a convoy crossed the district.”
The story captures something deeper than a debate about transport logistics. It reflects a broader concern about how resources are used in a country that still spends billions importing energy.
Austerity in this context does not mean abandoning development ambitions. It means aligning national priorities with long-term resilience rather than symbolic displays of power.
Energy policy sits at the center of that conversation because it shapes everything from inflation to foreign exchange stability. When petroleum imports dominate the fuel mix, every geopolitical shock reverberates through the domestic economy.
Even partial substitution with domestic natural gas could change that equation. A gradual shift toward CNG for buses, freight trucks and government fleets would reduce the volume of imported petroleum needed each year.
Such a transition would take time, investment and careful planning. Countries that built large CNG systems did so over decades, combining regulatory incentives with infrastructure expansion.
But the direction of travel matters as much as the pace. Clear policy signals could encourage private investors to expand fueling stations and vehicle conversion services. Otherwise, the cycle will continue repeating itself. Each escalation involving the United States, Iran, and Israel will once again echo through Tanzania’s transport fares and fuel pumps.
Natural gas alone will not solve every economic challenge facing the country. But it represents an opportunity that many nations would consider transformative. The real question is whether Tanzania will eventually use that resource to shield its economy from global energy turbulence, or continue watching distant conflicts shape the price of everyday life at home.
