A year after the votes of late October, the cost of Tanzania's election unrest is still being carried in hospital bills, empty chairs at family tables, and the silence of unreleased reports. An official count of 518 dead stands against the estimates of at least 500 and the testimony of families who have found no state help and no accounting for their losses. Amnesty's warning that counterterrorism laws are now being turned against critics places the story within a familiar pattern: a state that speaks of fairness while its citizens wait, unanswered, for justice that has not yet arrived.
Tanzania Post-Poll Victims Seek Justice as Amnesty Accuses Government of Weaponising Counterterrorism Laws
"We have reached our limit," a shot protester says of his hospital bills
Why does Meshack Sane's story anchor this?
Because it shows the cost continuing. Five major operations, a sixth needed, three children, and no money left. The violence ended; the bills didn't.
He says officials told his family there's no budget for victims. Is that confirmed?
No. The BBC says it hasn't independently verified his account of those conversations. It's his report of what he was told.
The official death toll is 518. Is that the full picture?
It's the figure from the commission's report, which hasn't been published in full. So we can't see how it was counted. The reporting says at least 500.
And Amnesty's point is that secrecy is part of the problem. Families like Juma Nasibu's can't even recover a body.
What about the nephew who vanished?
That's careful territory. The reports that he was rounded up and shot are unconfirmed, by the uncle's own description. What's known is that the family searched hospitals, police stations and prisons and found nothing.
And the torture allegations?
They come from one 26-year-old man among 17 people Amnesty interviewed. They're serious, but they're his account, and the authorities didn't respond. The government denies widespread abuses.
What is on record is that Amnesty says no official has been prosecuted, and the second commission is still to be tested.
What should readers watch?
Lissu's verdict next week, and whether the new inquiry examines security forces.
Il Polso
- Meshack Sane has exhausted his savings after more than five operations, and still needs surgery he can no longer afford.
- Families of the dead say hospitals refused the injured in the first days and that no government budget exists for victims.
- The official inquiry report remains unpublished, and not one security official has faced criminal investigation or prosecution.
- Amnesty documents arrests, alleged torture and enforced disappearances tied to banned July marches, with the authorities silent on requests for comment.
- Opposition leader Tundu Lissu, on hunger strike over denied access to lawyers, awaits a treason verdict next week that could shape the country's next chapter.
A year after the votes of late October, the cost of Tanzania's election unrest is still being carried in hospital bills, empty chairs at family tables, and the silence of unreleased reports. An official count of 518 dead stands against the estimates of at least 500 and the testimony of families who have found no state help and no accounting for their losses. Amnesty's warning that counterterrorism laws are now being turned against critics places the story within a familiar pattern: a state that speaks of fairness while its citizens wait, unanswered, for justice that has not yet arrived.
Meshack Sane was shot in the leg in Arusha during the unrest that followed Tanzania's election. A year later he has run out of money. He has had more than five major operations and needs more, but he says he can no longer pay. In the days after the violence, he says, hospitals initially turned away the injured. When his relatives appealed to local officials and the district commissioner, they were told, by his account, that no budget had been set aside for victims. The BBC has not independently verified those conversations.
His story arrives on the eve of the anniversary of the vote that returned President Samia Suluhu Hassan with 98 per cent of the ballot. The opposition called the result a mockery, since her main challengers were kept out of the race. Tundu Lissu, leader of the Chadema party, was put on trial for treason before the poll. A verdict is due next week. This week he began a hunger strike, saying he was denied access to his lawyers. Prison authorities deny this, and his lawyer says a meeting has now been granted.
At least 500 people died. A commission gave its report to the president in April, recording 518 deaths, but Amnesty International says the full report has never been published. The president has since set up a second commission to identify who was behind the violence. Amnesty insists it must examine the security forces, none of whose officials have been criminally investigated for excessive force against protesters.
For the bereaved, the loss is also practical. Mwajuma Hamisi lost her husband George Kisivani, shot on election day, and is now raising five children alone while selling vegetables at a market. Neema Munuo lost her 18-year-old daughter, shot while buying phone credit, and grief often keeps her indoors. Near Mwanza, farmer Juma Nasibu has not seen his 25-year-old nephew since the unrest. Searches of hospitals, police stations and prisons have found nothing, and the body was never recovered.
Amnesty also reports that the crackdown has deepened. Critics and those who backed July protests have been arrested, and one man says he was held 47 days without charge and tortured. The authorities did not respond to requests for comment. The verdict in Lissu's trial is the nearest marker, and beyond it lies a harder question: whether anyone will be made to answer for what happened on the streets.
Meshack Sane, 33, was shot in the leg in Arusha during Tanzania's election unrest. A year later, he says he has run out of money. The father of three has had more than five major operations for the gunshot wound and still needs more surgery, but he told the BBC he can no longer pay for it. "We have reached our limit," he said. He added that in the days after the violence, hospitals initially refused to treat the injured. His relatives have since appealed to local officials and the district commissioner, and were told, by his account, that the government had set aside no budget for victims. The BBC has not independently verified what he says was said in those conversations.
His case surfaces on the eve of the anniversary of the 29 October 2025 vote, which returned President Samia Suluhu Hassan with 98% of the ballot. The opposition called the result a mockery of democracy, since her two main challengers were kept out of the race. One of them, Tundu Lissu, 58, leads the main opposition party, Chadema. He was put on trial for treason before the poll, which blocked him from standing. He had been demanding electoral reforms, and a verdict in his case is due next week. This week he went on a hunger strike, saying he was being denied access to his lawyers. Prison authorities denied that. His lawyer, Dickson Matata, told the BBC on Wednesday that a meeting had now been granted and that Lissu would eat again.
At least 500 people died in the violence. A commission of inquiry gave its report to the president in April, officially recording 518 deaths. Amnesty International says the full report has not been published and that this "entrenches a culture of secrecy." The president has since set up a second commission to identify those behind the violence. Tigere Chagutah, Amnesty's regional director for East and southern Africa, said it must comprehensively examine the role of security forces. He also said that not one official has been criminally investigated, let alone prosecuted, for the excessive force used against protesters.
The BBC verified multiple videos last year showing police firing toward protesters. Footage online showed demonstrators confronted by heavily armed units that blocked their path and fired tear gas. The government has repeatedly denied widespread abuses and says it is committed to human rights. Samia, 66, has said the election was fair and transparent, and has blamed foreigners for the unrest, calling it part of a plot to overthrow her.
Amnesty says the situation has worsened since the crackdown began, and accuses the authorities of increasingly using counterterrorism laws to silence critics and instil fear. Between 3 and 17 September 2026 it interviewed 17 people about continuing repression. Some were targeted after protests were called for 7 July to demand democratic reforms and justice for those killed; the authorities banned those marches. One 26-year-old man who had voiced support said he was arrested in Dar es Salaam on 24 July and held 47 days without charge. He said interrogators blindfolded him, asked who funded the protests and threatened to kill him, and that guards urinated on his face when he asked for water. He said he was later beaten on the legs at Gogoni police station. Amnesty also cites other acts that may amount to torture, arbitrary arrests, enforced disappearances and abductions. The authorities did not respond to requests for comment from the BBC or Amnesty.
For bereaved families, the losses are practical as well as emotional. Mwajuma Hamisi, 32, lost her husband George Kisivani, shot in Arusha on election day and dead two days later. She is left with five children and now sells vegetables at a nearby market. "I am left to fight for the family on my own," she said, and she wants government help. Neema Munuo, 40, lost her 18-year-old daughter Maria Chami, shot in Arusha while out to buy phone credit. She says her grief often keeps her from leaving the house.
Near Mwanza, on Lake Victoria, farmer Juma Nasibu has not seen his 25-year-old nephew, Juma Shabani, since the unrest. The young man was at a cinema that evening, and his uncle later heard unconfirmed reports that he was among people rounded up and shot. The family has searched hospitals, police stations and prisons without result. "What still pains me is that we were never able to recover the body," Nasibu said.
Next week's verdict in Lissu's treason trial is the nearest marker. Beyond that, the question is whether the new commission will look at the security forces.
Citazioni salienti
Not a single official has been criminally investigated, let alone prosecuted and punished for the excessive force used against protesters.— Tigere Chagutah, Amnesty International
I am left to fight for the family on my own.— Mwajuma Hamisi, widow of George Kisivani