Tanzania Shuts 200,000 Gwajima Churches Over Abduction, Killing Critique

Tanzania shuts 200,000 Gwajima churches over abduction critique in a sweeping crackdown that has left tens of thousands of worshippers reeling, as authorities deregistered over 200,000 branches of the Glory of Christ Tanzania Church (Ufufuo na Uzima) linked to outspoken former MP and Bishop Dr Josephat Gwajima for his vocal condemnation of enforced disappearances.

The move, executed under the Societies Act, has drawn international condemnation as a blatant assault on religious freedom, with critics branding it “dictatorship at its best” amid rising fears of pre-election repression ahead of October’s polls.

The closures cascaded like a chain reaction across the country, affecting an estimated 70,000 congregants in Dar es Salaam alone and rippling into rural outposts from Arusha to Mwanza.

Gwajima, the fiery Kawe MP and founder of the Pentecostal megachurch, had ignited the firestorm with a June 1 sermon launching a seven-day prayer vigil for “justice and peace” while railing against a surge in abductions targeting opposition figures and activists.

“CCM is not a party of abductors. How would the government react if these were the children of top officials?” He thundered from his Ubungo pulpit, a message that quickly went viral on platforms like TikTok and WhatsApp, amassing over 2 million views before state censors stepped in.

By June 2, the Registrar of Societies revoked the church’s registration under Section 17(b) of the Societies Act, citing “politically charged sermons intended to incite discord.”

Police swooped in that evening, sealing the main sanctuary with yellow tape and arresting a dozen deacons for “defying orders”. Gwajima himself vanished briefly, sparking abduction rumours – he later surfaced in exile, posting from an undisclosed location: “They closed our doors, but not our faith. Prayer cannot be deregistered.”

The fallout was swift: over 200,000 affiliated branches, from backyard Bible studies to mid-sized halls, received shutdown notices, forcing services into open fields or virtual streams that glitch under throttled internet.

This isn’t Gwajima’s first brush with the regime’s iron fist. The controversial cleric-turned-politician, who rode into parliament on President Samia Suluhu Hassan’s CCM ticket in 2020, has long balanced gospel fire with political sparks.

His May 24 presser decrying over 80 disappearances—many linked to Chadema rallies—drew a presidential rebuke, with Suluhu warning against the “Gwajimanisation” of the party.

Human rights groups like Christian Solidarity Worldwide (CSW) slammed the closures as “misuse of law”, noting similar threats against Evangelical Lutheran leaders like Bishop Benson Bagonza, who reported death threats for similar outcries.

On the ground, the pain cuts deep. In Ubungo’s dusty lanes, congregant Mama Amina Rodgers, 52, clutches her Bible outside the padlocked gates, her Sunday dress faded from repeated washes.

“We came for healing, not politics. Now our children ask why God’s house is chained like a criminal,” she told reporters, her voice cracking as police idled nearby.

Youth wings, already simmering over 40% unemployment and electoral fraud fears, have turned prayer meetings into protest hubs, chanting “Hakuna CCM bila haki” (No CCM without justice) under acacia trees.

In Arusha, a joint service hosted by the deregistered flock drew 5,000, only to be teargassed – echoing May’s crackdown on Lutheran gatherings. Opposition firebrand Tundu Lissu, facing his own treason trial, hailed Gwajima as a “prophet in exile”, vowing Chadema would rally behind the faithful.

“Shutting churches won’t silence sermons; it amplifies them,” he posted, his words retweeted 15,000 times. Amnesty International and the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights have lodged urgent appeals, flagging violations of Article 19 of the African Charter on free expression.

As November’s rains lash Dar’s tin roofs, the Glory of Christ faithful huddle in homes, Bibles open to Psalms of deliverance. Gwajima’s branches, once beacons of revival with 70,000 souls, now symbolise a nation’s fraying freedoms.

Tanzania shutting 200,000 Gwajima churches over abduction critique isn’t mere bureaucracy; it’s a pulpit silenced, a prayer stifled, and a people pushed to the edge.

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