Last Sunday whilst attending Church, Tanzania’s President John Magufuli confounded a world in lockdown. He spoke up to tell Tanzanians that the coronavirus was equivalent to “Satan” and that it would naturally be defeated with prayer, since “Satan cannot reside in the body of Christ.” Yes, as officials in the rest of the world, including our immediate neighbors, were advocating social distancing, our dear leader was encouraging mass congregation in churches and mosques as an antidote to the coronavirus.

Less than 48 hours after Mr. Magufuli‘s sermon, he was seated in the presidential jet, on his way home to Chato, a sleepy little village in the northern part of our country (which he endowed with an airport not economically viable for commercial flights). And whilst the leaders of Ethiopia, Kenya, Uganda and Rwanda had been locked in video conference discussions to determine strategy and next steps, our president excused himself entirely. He instead ordained our Prime Minister as head of the Special Coronavirus Task Team. He, too, has since been conspicuously absent.

As the week unfolded, Tanzania recorded its first official coronavirus fatality in our commercial capital of Dar es Salaam. Iddi Mbita, a 49-year-old man, was in the Intensive Care Unit of Aga Khan Hospital when his Covid-19 results came through. He was then forcibly moved to the government-designated quarantine center, where less than 12 hours later he had passed away. Iddi was a friend. The last time I saw him was about 8 weeks ago at our local supermarket. The last I said to him was: “We must make an effort to see each other more.” Iddi leaves behind a wife and two young sons. We could not attend his funeral, as he was buried by state authorities.

Tanzanians are no different from other human beings, and we too find humor as a cathartic release from the ordeals of living through a pandemic. In the midst of confusion and fear, we started tweeting, retweeting, and forwarding a video clip by a local comedian, Masanja Mkadamizija, in which he takes to the streets of our capital and asks passers-by whether they fancy a little Covid-19. Masanja was thereafter ordered to report to the nearest police station by the district commissioner and forced to apologize for “failing to take appropriate actions to educate the people.” The district commissioner, of course, is oblivious to the fact that he is not a court of law, nor can he forgive a citizen for committing an alleged “crime.” But there we have it. This is the face of Tanzanian authority in a time of the coronavirus.

Our week could not possibly end without our dear Paul Makonda, the regional commissioner of Dar es Salaam – the same man who is on the United States’ infamous list of the unwanted (i.e. U.S. sanctions) – having the last say on the matter on COVID-19. In a public address to citizens, he mocked us all for practicing social isolation and staying at home; basically, of indolence. He says he does not understand why we are “waiting around for the virus,” commanding us to “Get out and work.”

As the rest of the world remains in some form of precautionary lockdown – in line with best public health practices – we in Tanzania have been told to continue attending places of prayer (as prayer is our only salvation); not to dare joke about the matter; and to leave our homes, go to work and to stop being lazy.

In the midst of this social cacophony I am desperately hanging onto my right to practice religion as I see best; to laugh even if the joke relates, perhaps morbidly, to the pandemic; and to work from my home and conversely not to work if I choose to — all whilst adhering closely to the advice from experts to practice physical distancing. I, and other Tanzanians, will also practice the fine, learned art of filtrating the utter nonsense from our leaders. We have indeed made this an artform of late.

Fatma Karume is a leading human rights advocate and a senior law partner at IMMMA Advocates, a law firm based in Tanzania. You can follow her on Twitter at @fatma_karume.

DISCLAIMER: The views expressed in this publication do not necessarily reflect the views of Vanguard Africa, the Vanguard Africa Foundation or its staff.