By Adonis Byemelwa
The dry season has breathed life into Kashasha Village in Kitobo Ward, Misenyi District. Banana plantations are lush, footpaths wind through the rugged hills of Nyamweshera and Kahyoro, and the skies remain clear after months of rain.
Traditionally, this is the season when families return home from towns and cities to build houses, harvest crops and reconnect with their roots. However, beneath the calm countryside lies a quieter story of hardship, one that official fuel price announcements have failed to erase.
It was during a recent visit to Kashasha that the true cost of Tanzania’s fuel crisis came into focus. While the government announced a reduction in fuel prices beginning July 1, life in this remote corner of Kagera tells a different story.
Here, the price of petrol is not measured at a filling station hundreds of kilometres away in Dar es Salaam, but in the distance, people walk to the hospital, the homes left unfinished, and the opportunities slipping further from reach.
Nothing illustrates that reality better than the journey to Mugana Hospital, the nearest health facility serving many residents of Kashasha and neighbouring villages. Although the hospital is barely 4.5 kilometres away, the steep terrain makes every trip physically demanding.
Years ago, villagers routinely walked to visit sick relatives, carrying bunches of bananas, fruits, food and even bundles of firewood for patients admitted to the wards. The journey reflected both necessity and community solidarity.
The arrival of motorcycles transformed rural life. Suddenly, a patient, caregiver, or expectant mother could reach Mugana Hospital within minutes for Sh2,000.
What had once consumed nearly two hours on foot became affordable and convenient. For many villagers, motorcycles represented more than transport; they symbolised progress.
That progress has steadily reversed. As fuel prices climbed earlier this year following the conflict in the Middle East, motorcycle fares rose from Sh2,000 to Sh3,000, then to Sh5,000 for the same journey.
Despite EWURA’s latest reductions in regulated fuel prices, riders in Kashasha continue charging Sh5,000, a fare many farming households cannot afford. Consequently, people have returned to walking or attempting the difficult ride on bicycles over the hills separating their homes from the hospital.
Nyamwiza Mujunangoma has experienced that burden firsthand while attending to a sick relative at Mugana Hospital. What was once a short motorcycle ride has become a difficult choice between paying for transport and buying food and medicine for the patient. Like many villagers, she now walks whenever possible because the fare has become prohibitive.
Ma Kezziah Mkabakama recalls when families travelled to the hospital carrying bananas and other necessities without worrying about transport costs. Motorcycles later eased that burden, but soaring fares have forced many residents back onto the dusty footpaths they thought they had left behind.
Ayubu Ndashwa tells a similar story, saying: “Families increasingly postpone hospital visits unless necessary because transport alone consumes money meant for treatment.”
The government insists the situation is improving. Effective July 1, EWURA lowered retail cap prices in Dar es Salaam to Sh3,990 per litre for petrol, Sh4,182 for diesel, and Sh4,443 for kerosene.
Following a decline in international crude oil prices after the reopening of shipping routes through the Strait of Hormuz. The reductions fulfilled the government’s promise that Tanzanians would begin benefiting from falling global oil prices.
Nevertheless, in Kashasha, few residents speak of relief. Their reality exposes a gap between official pump prices and the actual cost of living in rural Tanzania.
Licensed filling stations are located far from many villages, forcing motorcycle operators to travel long distances to buy fuel or rely on petrol sold informally in jerry cans. By the time fuel reaches remote communities, transport costs and intermediaries have pushed prices well beyond those announced by regulators.
Across Kyazi, Kitobo, Musibuka and Bwagya sub-villages, informal fuel vendors have quietly become an essential part of rural commerce. Plastic jerry cans filled with petrol line small kiosks and roadside stalls, supplying riders and farmers unable to travel to distant filling stations.
While the trade fills a critical gap, it operates with little visible oversight, raising questions about safety, pricing and regulatory enforcement. For many villagers, these informal markets, not EWURA’s price cap, determine what they ultimately pay.
Motorcycle rider Seth Theonest says, “Brother, passengers often assume riders are exploiting the situation by refusing to reduce fares after the latest price announcement.” The reality, he argues, is more complex.
Fuel remains expensive by the time it reaches rural operators, while the cost of spare parts, engine oil and maintenance has also increased sharply. At the same time, fewer passengers can afford motorcycle transport, further reducing daily earnings.
His colleague, Luckius Katto, eventually abandoned the business altogether. “You see, the rising cost of operating his motorcycle, combined with dwindling customers, made it impossible to sustain my livelihood.”
His departure reflects a wider trend in rural transport, where operators are finding that even small reductions in official fuel prices are insufficient to revive their businesses.
The ripple effects extend beyond transport. Every June and July, Kashasha and neighbouring villages normally witness a construction boom. Urban workers return during the dry season and school holidays to build retirement homes, expand family houses or replace mud structures with permanent brick dwellings.
Trucks carrying cement, iron sheets, timber and sand become familiar sights along village roads as families invest their savings in rural development.
This year, however, many of those projects have stalled. Half-built houses stand abandoned, their walls exposed to the sun with no roof in sight. Piles of bricks remain untouched, while construction workers wait for jobs that never materialise.
Residents say the cost of transporting building materials has risen dramatically, making projects once considered affordable impossible to complete. Diesel prices have driven up transport costs, while builders pass higher operating costs directly to homeowners.
Farmers are equally affected. The dry season has brought healthy banana harvests, yet moving produce to markets has become increasingly expensive. As transport costs rise, profits shrink, leaving households with less money for education, healthcare and investment.
What should be the most productive season of the year has instead become another reminder of how fuel prices shape nearly every aspect of rural life.
Tanzania imports all its petroleum products, leaving the country vulnerable to global shocks. The conflict in the Middle East earlier this year disrupted oil supplies and pushed fuel prices to record highs.
Although international crude prices have since fallen and EWURA has reduced pump prices, many rural communities say the relief has yet to reach them.
In villages such as Kashasha, residents continue paying high motorcycle fares because filling stations are far away and fuel is often bought from informal roadside vendors at inflated prices.
The situation raises questions about whether regulated fuel prices are benefiting those living beyond urban centres and how effectively rural fuel distribution is being monitored.
As the sun sets behind the hills of Nyamweshera and Kahyoro, villagers still make the long walk to Mugana Hospital, while unfinished houses stand as reminders of construction projects halted by soaring transport costs. Motorcycle riders, too, wait for customers who increasingly choose to walk rather than pay Sh5,000 for a short trip.
The government’s fuel price cuts may reflect improving global markets, but in Kashasha, the journey to affordable transport is far from over. Until the benefits reach remote villages, many rural Tanzanians will continue paying the highest price, not at the fuel pump, but in their daily lives.
