Originally published: May 2017
Republished: June 2025

It has been eight years since the nation of Tanzania was struck by one of its most devastating tragedies—the Karatu school bus accident that claimed the lives of 32 children, two teachers, and a bus driver. The memory of that fateful morning on May 6, 2017, still haunts the country, a day that plunged the nation into sorrow and marked a permanent chapter of mourning in Tanzania’s history.

The students from Lucky Vincent Primary School in Arusha were on their way to sit for a mock national examination—a proud moment in their young academic journeys. But that promise was tragically cut short when the school bus lost control on a rain-slicked road in the mountainous Karatu district. The vehicle veered off the road and tumbled into a ravine. Rescue efforts revealed a scene of unimaginable loss.

News of the accident spread swiftly across the country. National television, radio, and newspapers suspended regular programming to cover the unfolding tragedy. President John Magufuli declared a period of national mourning, and Tanzanians across the country held vigils, ceremonies, and prayers in solidarity with the grieving families.

The nation was not only united in grief, but also in compassion. Among the wreckage, three students were found alive—Wilson, Sadia, and Doreen. Severely injured but clinging to life, the three survivors were later flown to the United States for advanced medical treatment. Their story, described as miraculous, captured hearts worldwide and became a symbol of strength and survival amid overwhelming loss.

In the years that followed, the tragedy became a catalyst for dialogue on road safety and transportation reforms. The government pledged to tighten school transport regulations, improve road conditions in rural regions, and increase oversight of driver qualifications. While progress has been uneven, the memory of Karatu remains a solemn reminder of what is at stake.

Today, flowers are still placed at the memorial site near Karatu. The names of the lost children are still spoken by families, teachers, and classmates who remember them not just as victims—but as dreamers, students, and cherished sons and daughters.

Eight years on, the pain has softened but not disappeared. As we republish this story, we remember them—with love, with honor, and with the collective promise: never again.