By Adonis Byemelwa
The treason trial of Chadema national chairperson Tundu Lissu resumed at the High Court in Dar es Salaam on Monday, 9th February 2026, after an 88-day pause. What many expected to be a continuation of witness testimony instead became a courtroom standoff over procedure. At the centre of it all was a prosecution witness shielded from public view.
The hearing, before a three-judge panel led by Judge D. Ndunguru, resumed in November, when Lissu formally objected to the state’s plan to present a protected witness known only as P11.
Prosecutors want the witness to testify from a concealed booth, locally called a kizimba. They argue the arrangement is permitted under the 2025 Witness Protection Rules and an existing court order.
State Attorney Nassoro Katuga told the court the measure was necessary and lawful. He said the prosecution was acting within the framework provided by the rules. From the state’s perspective, witness safety in serious criminal cases must sometimes take precedence.
Lissu, representing himself, challenged both the legality and fairness of the setup. He told the judges that the booth prevented everyone in the courtroom, including the bench, from seeing the witness. Without that visibility, he argued, the court could not properly assess credibility.
He warned that admitting such testimony would undermine the right to a fair trial. Allowing evidence under these conditions, he said, risks turning justice into a formality rather than a meaningful process. The point landed heavily in the quiet courtroom.
From there, Lissu widened his legal attack. He questioned how the witness protection order was granted, saying prosecutors failed to name the witnesses or specify the threats they faced. He also argued that the Witness Protection Rules themselves lack proper legal grounding.
According to Lissu, the parent legislation was never published in the Government Gazette or tabled in Parliament. If true, he said, the entire framework collapses. Prosecutors did not immediately respond to that claim in open court.
Before the judges could move to the core objection, Lissu raised concerns about his treatment in custody. He alleged prison officials were monitoring confidential conversations with his lawyers. He also said he had been barred from receiving visits from fellow Chadema leaders.
No prison authorities were present to address those allegations. The judges listened without comment. For Lissu, it was another reminder that the trial does not end when the court adjourns.
Outside the courtroom, supporters welcomed him with chants of “Rais! Rais!” Inside, the atmosphere shifted between legal argument and raw humanity. The contrast was hard to ignore.
Lissu told the court he has now spent 307 days in custody. During that time, he said, the case had been heard for only 15 days. He compared this pace to earlier treason trials that moved far faster.
“At this speed,” he remarked, drawing brief laughter from the bench, “we will get to 2030 if you have not yet retired.” The moment broke the tension, but only briefly. The underlying frustration remained. Then came a more personal note. “I am not ready yet to die,” Lissu told the court. “Life is sweet.”
He said his forceful arguments were not threats or theatrics. They were the voice of a man fighting for his future from behind bars. Every procedural detail, he suggested, carries real consequences.
For the prosecution, the focus remains on moving the case forward while protecting witnesses. Officials maintain that special measures are sometimes unavoidable in sensitive trials. They insist the court-approved process strikes a lawful balance.
The judges adjourned proceedings to Wednesday, 11th February. They are expected to rule on Lissu’s objection to the use of a concealed witness. That decision could determine whether key prosecution evidence is admitted.
As the courtroom emptied, the weight of the moment lingered. Lissu returned to custody, still waiting for the law to catch up with the calendar. The state is prepared for the next phase.
What played out on Monday was more than a technical dispute. It was a glimpse into the daily reality of facing treason charges while incarcerated and self-represented. Every delay stretches time, and every ruling shapes the path ahead.
For now, the case rests with the judges. Their ruling will signal how the court balances witness protection with the rights of the accused. Furthermore, for Tundu Lissu, it marks another chapter in a trial that continues to test patience, principle, and endurance.
