How Tanzania’s Mazizini Demands Clean Air and Justice on World Environment Day

By Adonis Byemelwa

The quiet arrival of June 5th each year may not draw the same frenzy as a national holiday, but for those tuned into the rhythms of the planet, World Environment Day is a moment to take stock. It’s not just about slogans or tree-planting drives—it’s a day when the Earth demands our attention.

In 2025, the theme could not be more urgent: ending plastic pollution. With the Republic of Korea hosting the global commemorations, millions worldwide are expected to join the conversation and the action.

Around the world, the environment communicates in subtle ways—through the air we breathe, the sounds that surround us, and sometimes, through the unbearable stench of neglect. In Mazizini, on the outskirts of Dar es Salaam, that stench arises from a poorly managed slaughter site. As the rains fall, blood mixes with runoff, transforming roads into rivers of filth. The odor seeps into bars, guesthouses, and eateries, driving customers away and jeopardizing residents’ health.

Tanzania, to its credit, has taken significant steps to ban plastic bags and promote clean energy to reduce deforestation. However, urban waste continues to pose a growing crisis. Of the 12.1 to 17.4 million tons of solid waste generated annually, only 35% is properly managed. The gap between policy and practice is most evident in places like Mazizini.

If World Environment Day is a mirror, then Mazizini is one of its sharpest reflections—a place where the urgency of environmental justice unfolds in pungent, unrelenting detail. Here, nestled within Ukonga on the outskirts of Tanzania’s bustling economic capital, the stench from a slaughter site seeps into the daily lives of residents. It's not just about a foul smell anymore. It's about dignity, health, and livelihoods.

“We can’t breathe properly,” says Halima, who runs a small guesthouse just a stone’s throw from the abattoir. “When it rains, the stench from the blood mixes with the mud and washes through the streets. My customers can’t stand it—they leave and never come back.” The problem worsens during the rainy season when runoff from the slaughter site carries blood, waste, and a dark reek that seeps into every crevice of the community.

Bars that once thrived on the laughter of football fans and the clink of beer bottles now sit half-empty. The food joints—Mama lishe kitchens offering hearty plates of ugali and meat—are on the verge of closing. The irony isn’t lost on anyone: meat is still consumed, but its preparation has turned into a curse for those living nearby.

This year’s World Environment Day occurs just two months before nations reconvene to negotiate a global treaty to end plastic pollution.

Tanzania will be celebrated at the global table. The country has made remarkable strides in limiting the use of plastic bags—an action that has reshaped consumer behavior and given the nation a moral high ground in global environmental forums.

Supermarkets now sell reusable bags, street vendors wrap snacks in banana leaves, and even schoolchildren regard the ban as a point of pride. Tanzania’s leadership on this front deserves sincere praise.

Yet, the story of Mazizini reminds us that while we may solve one environmental problem, others lurk closer to home. The residents here have taken a bold step—through the Lawyers' Environmental Action Team (LEAT), they’ve issued a legal notice demanding that authorities shut down the slaughter site.

Their complaint is straightforward: the abattoir not only violates health codes but also contributes directly to environmental degradation and deteriorating infrastructure. The Ilala Municipal Council, accused of turning a blind eye, now faces scrutiny as public frustration mounts.

What’s striking about the Mazizini crisis is that it doesn’t stem from apathy. It’s a matter of institutional oversight and competing priorities. Slaughterhouses are essential, yes—but so is the right to live in a clean, safe, and dignified environment. The clash between economic necessity and environmental justice is playing out in real time here, with residents, business owners, and even schoolchildren caught in the middle.

“You can’t sit outside and enjoy the air anymore,” says Arawa, who owns a bar nearby. “It’s not just the smell; it’s the flies, the constant anxiety that we’re inhaling something dangerous.” His story echoes those from around the area—fathers worried about children developing infections, mothers battling unending cycles of stomach illness, and elderly residents suffering in silence.

This isn’t just a public health crisis—it’s a breakdown of environmental governance. And yet, within it, lies an opportunity. If the government heeds the call and relocates or modernizes the facility with appropriate waste management systems, it could set an example for urban centers across the continent.

 Slaughterhouse waste can be treated. Blood and tissue can be converted into biogas or organic fertilizers. With the right investment and oversight, the very same site now causing so much pain could become a model of sustainable urban agriculture.

Around the world, examples of such transformations abound. In Nairobi, Kenya, upgraded abattoirs now have waste-to-energy systems that provide electricity to nearby homes. In India, decentralized waste management centers attached to slaughterhouses have significantly improved community health outcomes. There’s no reason Mazizini cannot follow suit.

World Environment Day isn't just about forests, oceans, or melting glaciers. It’s about the lived experience of people trying to coexist with their surroundings. It’s about that moment when a young mother walks her child past a heap of untreated waste and wonders what toxins linger in the air. It’s about the frustration of watching local officials promise change that never comes, while the rain carries the same river of blood past your doorstep every year.

It is fitting that as the world rallies to beat plastic pollution, we also remember that pollution comes in many forms, and its worst victims are often the ones with the smallest voice. The elderly woman was unable to sleep because of the reek of decay. The boy was coughing through his math homework. The cook is losing her clients because the scent of grilled meat competes with that of fresh waste.

Tanzania has already shown that it can lead with integrity. Its decision to ban plastic bags—once a source of skepticism—has proven both effective and popular. Now is the time to carry that same spirit of resolve into new territory. Urban waste systems must be modernized. Environmental standards must be enforced with fairness and urgency. Public-private partnerships could be the answer, enabling investment without draining state budgets.

Let this World Environment Day not be just another date on the calendar, but a day when countries like Tanzania build on their successes and confront the challenges that remain. A day when citizens of Mazizini feel seen, heard, and protected. Because the true measure of environmental commitment is not in policy documents or press releases—but in the air we breathe, the food we eat, and the lives we live.

So, as the world lights up social media with #BeatPlasticPollution, let’s remember that hashtags don’t clean the streets. It’s community action, legal pressure, and sustained political will that create real change. Let’s honor the spirit of this global day by lifting the stories from places like Mazizini to the global stage.

After all, the environment isn’t something "out there" to be saved—it’s right here, in the smells we notice, the diseases we fear, and the voices we choose to listen to. This year, World Environment Day doesn’t just ask us to act—it demands that we pay attention. Because if a slaughter site can disrupt life for thousands, then surely, fixing it can also restore a community’s hope.