By Mutayoba Arbogast
On March 25, 2026, the United Nations General Assembly made history. In a decisive 123–3 vote, spearheaded by Ghana, it declared the transatlantic slave trade “the worst crime against humanity.”
The resolution calls for apologies, the repatriation of stolen artifacts, and reparations for millions of Africans trafficked across the Atlantic—acknowledging a brutal legacy that continues to scar the continent. It is, by all accounts, a landmark step toward justice.
Yet even as celebrations echo across West Africa, a glaring omission remains: the equally devastating slave trade that spanned the Indian Ocean, the Red Sea, and the Sahara.
From East Africa, voices are rising in protest. Among them is Onesmo Olengurumwa, a prominent Tanzanian human rights advocate, who is urging the UN to extend the same moral and legal recognition to this overlooked chapter of history.
Olengurumwa welcomes the Atlantic resolution as progress—but warns it risks entrenching a new form of historical exclusion.
“Continuing to ignore the suffering of millions of Africans taken through the Indian Ocean, the Red Sea, and the Sahara is to perpetuate historical discrimination,” he argues.
His words evoke the harrowing reality of forced marches stretching over 1,200 kilometers—from Ujiji to Bagamoyo, onward to Kilwa and Zanzibar—gateways to enslavement in the Middle East and Asia. Men, women, and children endured unimaginable cruelty: chained, starved, and beaten under a relentless sun.
“The pain of Ujiji, Bagamoyo, Kilwa, and Zanzibar is part of our national memory,” Olengurumwa says. “Today is not just remembrance—it is a call to ensure our history is neither erased nor ignored.”
Historians estimate that between 10 and 18 million Africans were trafficked through eastern networks, with 9 to 10 million transported via Indian Ocean routes alone.
While the transatlantic system was largely plantation-driven, eastern slavery imposed its own brutalities—widespread sexual exploitation, forced military conscription, and domestic servitude that fractured families and societies. The psychological toll—shame, fragmented identities, and suppressed histories—continues to reverberate across generations in East Africa.
Olengurumwa underscores the parallel:
“Both the Atlantic and Indian Ocean trades inflicted similar wounds on Africa. Recognition must not be selective.”
The UN’s silence, he argues, is more than an academic oversight—it is a failure of moral consistency.
He also criticizes the muted response from African institutions, including the African Union. Where, he asks, is the unified call from Tanzania, Kenya, or Mozambique demanding equal recognition?
Part of the imbalance, historians say, lies in colonial-era narratives that amplified the Atlantic trade while marginalizing eastern routes. For centuries, Arab and Swahili trading networks transported captives from the African interior to markets across the Persian Gulf and beyond.
Sites like Bagamoyo—once known as “Lay Down Your Load,” reflecting the grim final stop before forced departure—remain under-recognized and under-protected.
Olengurumwa has spent more than a decade advocating for change. Since launching his 2013 campaign, Case Against the Indian Ocean Slave Trade, he has mobilized scholars, activists, and descendants to document routes, burial sites, and historical evidence.
He now calls on Tanzania to lead by example: designate the Ujiji–Bagamoyo corridor as a national heritage site, invest in preservation, and champion the issue on the global stage.
The vision is ambitious—UNESCO recognition of key sites, regional research centers, and a united push for reparations led by the East African Community.
“Justice is not a limited resource,” Olengurumwa insists. “Delaying recognition risks denying it altogether.”
Historians such as Abdul Sheriff have documented Zanzibar’s central role in the trade, with vast numbers of enslaved Africans passing through its markets during the 19th century. Oral histories recount unspeakable suffering—families torn apart, children separated, and lives erased.
These accounts mirror the narratives of Atlantic survivors like Olaudah Equiano and Frederick Douglass—yet remain far less recognized.
The UN’s recent resolution sets a powerful precedent. A parallel declaration addressing the Indian Ocean slave trade would affirm that all African suffering deserves acknowledgment—and that justice must be universal.
Today, Tanzania stands at a crossroads. As development pressures mount, including plans for major infrastructure near historic sites, the choice between preservation and neglect grows urgent.
Olengurumwa envisions a different path: regional leadership, coordinated advocacy, and a unified African voice demanding historical justice.
Without such action, the risk is clear—the erasure of millions from global memory.
As the world applauds the transatlantic resolution, it must not silence the echoes from the East.
The United Nations must act again—by recognizing the Indian Ocean slave trade as a crime against humanity.
Only then can history be whole—and justice complete.
