Traffic police have set up a permanent trap along the main road about two whiskers away from where I live. For much of the day, excepting the morning rush hour of course, the gentlemen in stark white uniforms (at least one of whom invariably has an impressive potbelly) flag down drivers. They then proceed to inspect cars with the explicit aim of collecting a fine off the driver.

Whenever I pass by, I wonder how much they are able to raise this way and wish them well. Even though they have increased their presence in the city, unfortunately our quality of driving has not improved one iota. If anything, the number of traffic offences one can get away with is quite impressive.

It is an interesting approach to the idea of policing. In years past, the traffic police used to move their traps around so that one was never entirely sure when and where one would get caught for a broken tail-light or an expired insurance sticker. It made the game more fun, introducing an element of uncertainty to the day’s commute.

Besides, that way we could pretend that they were not forcibly fundraising off of us and that their policing was in the interest of making roads safer. Not any more; our small mutual courtesies have vanished. And now there is no ignoring the heavy hand of the state. Something about this feels a little bit too familiar.

They say that one becomes more conservative with time, which I dispute, but the bit about people becoming cranky about taxation and government interference is probably accurate. I found out recently that I belong either at the very tippy-end of Generation X or right at the beginning of the Millennials, depending on which source is consulted. Either way, among my peers there is a slight revival of nostalgia. Old things have become cool, not just for hipsters.

The 1980s and 1990s in particular hold a certain fascination, and more and more often pictures are starting to show up on social media with reminiscences of the time before computers were something we all carried in our pockets.

Ah, the glorious past. Unfortunately, what I remember of the glorious past is not all that romantic. Having caught the tail end of the Nyerere regime as a child, I remember what it was like when Tanzania was desperately broke. As in, seriously broke, man.

Sugar-rationing broke. Food aid yellow cornmeal broke. Use the same bar of soap to wash yourself, your dishes and your clothes broke. Sisal string doubling up as a dishwashing sponge broke. No shoes broke. And perhaps worst of all, spy-on-your-neighbour socialist broke.

The beautiful thing about childhood is that it is fun no matter the circumstances. We are born with reserves of joy that last until the end of innocence. And in looking back, it is easy enough to romanticise how things used to be. Heck, we even have filters on our digital cameras to help us imagine an idyllic past with washed-out colours or black-and-white.

Fine, but I also remember how, at the time, all political discussions that the adults engaged in had an air of being illicit — which is probably how I got interested in what politics is in the first place. People would lean in close to each other and lower their voices and carefully look around before expressing some opinions. The government, though I did not know what it was, seemed to be everywhere.

Which is why it feels familiar to sense the heavy hand of the state on my shoulder now. A friend pointed out the other day that the opposition, once a thriving and vigorous public institution, has more or less withered away to silence. Partly this can be explained by our demented obsession with what the incumbent, the vice-president and the prime minister are doing at all times.

But beyond that, we have abandoned our opposition at the grassroots level. They make all the right noises in their places of work, but for whatever reason we can’t seem to find our enthusiasm for democratic competition anymore.

What used to be a healthy embrace of the dynamism of multiple opinions has become an unhealthy obsession with the One True Answer. Our range of ideas has deteriorated terribly.

Our legislature is not nearly as inspired as the last administration was. We’re becoming conservative and sycophantic, but worst of all we are becoming obedient! This is alarming. Are we making Tanzania Great Again? I hope not. The past may be wonderful for nostalgia but I for one have no intention of revisiting it in practice.

Elsie Eyakuze is an independent consultant and blogger for The Mikocheni Report, http://mikochenireport.blogspot.com. E-mail: [email protected]