By Adonis Byemelwa
This year, March 8, 2025, marks International Women’s Day in Arusha, a city known for its vibrant tourism industry, where the celebrations are no exception. Lavish events, adorned with grandeur, are taking place amidst the stunning landscapes and bustling tourism scene.
The city, typically a hub of adventure and exploration, now serves as the backdrop for powerful speeches and public tributes to women.
President Samia, gracing the occasion, adds a sense of prestige to the day, with her presence elevating the significance of the event.
Her speech, no doubt filled with promises of progress and empowerment, echoes the worldwide celebrations of women’s achievements. However, beyond the razzmatazz and the well-polished rhetoric, there’s a deeper, more painful truth that cannot be overlooked.
While influential women receive accolades, millions of others toil in silence, their struggles unnoticed, their sacrifices unrecognized. The celebration often feels more like a performance than a genuine call to action, as the harsh realities of ordinary women, particularly those in rural Tanzania, remain buried under layers of empty words.
First officially recognized by the United Nations in 1977, International Women’s Day was meant to be a day of reflection—not just on achievements but on the relentless battles women fight daily. It was never intended to be reduced to hollow praises and fleeting social media posts that fade as quickly as they appear.
Behind the dazzling lights and inspiring speeches lay the silent struggles of countless women in Tanzania’s rural areas, whose voices remain unheard. While social media is flooded with tributes to mothers and grandmothers, a deeper question emerges: Do these public displays of affection translate into real care and change, or are they merely performative gestures?
The essence of International Women’s Day should not be confined to grand rhetoric and social media performances but must push for real progress that reaches those most in need.
Gertrude Mongella, former Speaker of the Pan-African Parliament, emphasized this during a discussion on UTV, arguing that technology—particularly artificial intelligence—must be leveraged to benefit rural women.
She urged policymakers and tech innovators to ensure that AI solutions are not reserved for the privileged few but are made accessible to women in villages, allowing them to improve their agricultural output, access markets, and ease the burdens of daily life.
Dr. Eve-Maria Semakafu, Ulingo chair and long-time activist, echoed similar sentiments, stressing that the commemoration of Women’s Day should be tied to policy-driven change, not just recognition.
She called for concrete actions to uplift struggling women, particularly in the informal sector, where they continue to be underpaid and overworked. Without this, she argued, Women’s Day risks becoming an annual ritual that offers inspiration without transformation.
Deus Kibamba, a governance analyst from the Centre for Foreign Relations, weighed in on the issue of women’s representation in decision-making spaces.
He pointed out that while special parliamentary seats for women were introduced as a way to increase female participation in governance, they have not always translated into meaningful empowerment.
He called for a shift from token representation to actual influence, where women—especially those from disadvantaged backgrounds—are included in key economic and political decisions.
These discussions highlight a crucial reality: true gender equality cannot be achieved through symbolic gestures alone. It requires deliberate efforts to bridge the technological divide, economic disparities, and systemic barriers that keep rural women trapped in cycles of hardship.
Until the women carrying water on their heads, tending to their farms with archaic tools, and struggling to afford basic needs see tangible change, the promises of International Women’s Day will remain unfulfilled.
The hypocrisy of International Women’s Day has become glaring. As young people race to post heartfelt messages about their mothers, many have never paused to consider the daily struggles these women endure.
The reality is starkly different from the celebratory posts, particularly for rural women in Shinyanga, Bariadi, Kagera, and Arusha, who wake before dawn and toil relentlessly into the night, only to remain trapped in a cycle of poverty and hardship.
Many of these women, such as Mama Salome from Bugarama, find themselves exhausted by the unending demands of farming, child-rearing, and the search for water, which remains a daily torment.
While powerful women take center stage at international conferences like Beijing’s, their rural counterparts are reduced to footnotes in the conversation about gender equality.
The Beijing Declaration, while groundbreaking, has largely uplifted the voices of elite women—those with access to education, power, and influence—while failing to address the cries of hapless small-scale farmers who fight for survival in Tanzania’s harsh economic landscape.
Mama Asha from Nyashimo, Bariadi, questions this gap: “They talk about women’s empowerment, but who is empowering us here? My children sleep hungry, and my hands are swollen from digging. Where is our recognition?”
These women are the backbone of food production, yet their suffering is often dismissed. A single acre of farmland, cultivated by hand with primitive hoes, can take a month to prepare—while a tractor could do the job in under two hours.
Their hands, calloused from years of toil, tell stories of relentless struggle. Their existence is precarious, dependent entirely on rainfall. When the rains fail, hunger follows, along with an inability to afford necessities or school supplies for their children. Yet, these pressing concerns rarely make headlines.
International Women’s Day has been increasingly politicized in Tanzania, with political leaders using it as a stage to praise the President’s efforts in advancing women’s rights. But amid these grand proclamations, the harsh reality of many Tanzanian women remains unchanged.
Inflation has skyrocketed, pushing basic commodities like sugar beyond the reach of small-scale farmers. The economic turmoil deepens their struggles, yet political leaders appear detached, offering empty rhetoric instead of tangible solutions.
Even as these celebrations unfold, social media has erupted with outrage against Dar es Salaam’s Regional Commissioner, Albert Chalamila, after his derogatory remarks about a woman sparked widespread calls for his dismissal.
Worse still, Chalamila was once confronted by a pregnant woman who called him in desperation because the dispensary she had visited lacked gloves for delivery. Rather than seeking redress, Chalamila curtly told her, “Tell your husband to buy the items. Was your husband not prepared for your labor?” His response was a blatant reminder of the government’s failure to provide basic medical necessities—items that should never be out of stock in any health facility.
In stark contrast, former RC Paul Makonda marked the day differently—by selling over 20 bottles of porridge in a bustling Arusha market to support struggling women. While his act was largely symbolic, it highlighted the contrast between performative politics and genuine efforts to uplift women in hardship.
“At least he stood with us,” remarked Mama Agnes, a porridge vendor at the Arusha market. “Most politicians just talk. He tried to understand our struggles.”
In rural Tanzania, the struggle for water is an unending burden. In villages like Nyashimo, Bugarama, and Manyoni, clean water remains a distant dream. Mama Neema, balancing a heavy bucket on her head, sighs, “I have done this since I was a girl. My daughters are doing the same. Will anything change?”
Women trek for kilometers, collapsing from exhaustion, while politicians repeat empty promises to “lift the water buckets off mothers’ heads.” The hypocrisy is glaring—clean water is not a privilege, yet it remains out of reach for many.
While women elsewhere receive flowers on International Women’s Day, in Tanzania, the mere availability of water is a celebration. Rev. Dar Katabaro of Karagwe recalled the pure joy his school felt when they finally got tap water, a moment as profound as winning a national prize. That speaks volumes about global inequality.
Women’s Day should not be about applause for the privileged but a rallying cry for real change. The government must prioritize access to water, modern farming tools, and economic relief. It’s time for leaders to step beyond polished speeches and into action. Until then, what exactly are we celebrating?
