US-Based Tanzanian Activist Accuses Government of Pressuring Meta to Silence Election Criticism

When Mange Kimambi woke up on December 5, 2025, her Instagram feed was gone. So was her WhatsApp. So was her voice — at least online. The US-based Tanzanian activist, known across East Africa as Sister of the Nation (Dada wa Taifa), had just lost the digital megaphone that connected her to nearly three million followers documenting what she called state-sponsored kidnappings, killings, and electoral fraud. Her accounts, she says, didn’t vanish because of a glitch. They were erased because the Tanzanian government wanted her silenced before the December 9, 2025 protests.

The Silence Before the Storm

Kimambi, who has lived in the United States since 2012, wasn’t just posting memes. She was archiving evidence. Videos of masked men dragging people from homes in Morogoro. Audio clips of soldiers ordering civilians to disperse with live ammunition. Photos of mass graves near the Tanzanian-Kenyan border. Her platforms became the most trusted source for opposition groups and international watchdogs alike — until Meta deactivated them without warning.

What made it worse? The timing. The deactivations came hours after she posted a thread detailing the death toll from the October 29, 2025 presidential election — a vote that gave President Samia Suluhu Hassan 98% of the ballots, while opposition leaders like Tundu Lissu and Luhaga Mpina were barred from running or jailed on treason charges. Human rights groups estimate hundreds died in the crackdown that followed. Kimambi’s posts were the only real-time record many had.

A Legal War in Two Countries

Back in Tanzania, the state didn’t just shut down her accounts — it went after her legally. In November 2025, Attorney General Hamza Said Johari publicly demanded her arrest and extradition. By early December, she was facing charges in Dar es Salaam: inciting violence, economic sabotage, and money laundering involving exactly $56,000, allegedly earned over three years from foreign donations. The money, prosecutors claim, funded illegal rallies. Kimambi says it paid for food for displaced families.

She appeared in court between December 1 and 5, 2025. Her next hearing? January 28, 2026. No bail. No travel. No digital presence. Her lawyers say the charges are fabricated, a tactic to criminalize dissent. Meanwhile, Meta confirmed it also blocked the account of Maria Sarungi-Tsehai, another Tanzanian journalist, following a government legal order — a move digital rights group Access Now called "a chilling precedent."

Who’s Really Pulling the Strings?

The Tanzanian government denies any role in Meta’s decisions. "We never asked them to delete accounts," said a spokesperson in a December 12 statement. But the pattern is too precise to ignore. Kimambi’s posts went viral on October 30. By November 15, she was being investigated. On December 4, she published her most damning evidence yet. On December 5, her accounts vanished.

And then came the letter. Kimambi didn’t just tweet about it. She wrote a formal appeal — addressed to former US President Donald Trump — pleading for intervention. "Meta listens to Washington," she wrote. "If you care about free speech, make them answer for this." The letter, shared publicly on X, has since been viewed over 2.1 million times.

Western diplomats, meanwhile, are quietly pressing Tanzania to release the bodies of those killed during the October crackdown. The US State Department, the EU, and Canada have all issued statements calling for "transparency," but no sanctions have followed. Kimambi’s case, they say, is one of many — but it’s the most visible.

From Ally to Enemy

Here’s the twist: Kimambi wasn’t always a critic. She openly supported Samia Suluhu Hassan after the death of former President John Magufuli in March 2021. She praised her for reopening dialogue with opposition parties. But after her first official trip to the US in 2023 — where photos of her with Suluhu were widely circulated — everything changed. She says the administration began treating her as a liability. "They thought I’d be grateful," she told a friend in Nairobi. "But gratitude doesn’t mean silence. Not when people are dying."

What Happens Next?

The December 9, 2025 protests never happened — at least not as planned. Without social media, coordination collapsed. But the anger didn’t fade. It went underground. WhatsApp groups now use coded language. Telegram channels operate on encrypted servers. And Kimambi? She’s still speaking — just not online. She’s doing interviews with Al Jazeera, the BBC, and Radio France Internationale. Her testimony is being archived by Human Rights Watch.

Her legal battle will stretch into 2026. If convicted, she could face decades in prison. If acquitted, she may never return to Tanzania. Either way, her case has become a symbol — not just of digital repression, but of how easily global platforms can become tools of authoritarian control.