Don’t worry, be happy

We are leaving Ntcheu this weekend. Our next destination is not known. But as transparent and accountable travellers, we will inform you soonest after Christmas Day—the day when some people enjoy themselves so much that they even forget that whatever was born will die and rise no more. Our leader of delegation and Commander-in-Chief, Abiti Joyce Befu, MG66, will decide and tell us where we will be next week.

As we usually do when we are about to leave any place, last night we went out to bid the people of Ntcheu, au-revoir in style.  We were in all casual dress except for MG66 who was dressed to be killed. We left Nankhoma Lodge and went to Uncle Bingu Bottle. Sheikh Jean-Philippe bought a glass of Amalaula on the rocks for Native Authority Mandela, who has been quite downcast since the passing of his namesake in South Africa.

We were busy talking to ourselves when Mbandambanda called.

“Who is it?” Abiti asked.

“Mbandambanda,”I answered.

“What does that mimba tiye want?” Abiti Joyce Befu, MG 66 asked again.

“Fun. Just fun, I guess,” I responded.

“Having fun on other people’s pockets?” MG 66 said laughingly

“And you? What have you bought since we got you out of that Monkey Bay PTC shop?”

“I don’t like your joke,” MG 66 complained as she turned to look at Jean-Philippe.

Before Jean-Philippe could say anything, Mbandambanda  joined us. We all greeted him. MG66 did not; which prompted Mbandambanda to ask if our-commander-in-chief and leader of delegation was well. Abiti did not answer. Then Mbandambanda turned to me, then to Native Authority Mandela and Jean-Philippe. Nobody said anything.

“Am I welcome?” Mbandambanda wondered.

“Of course you are,” Jean-Philippe said.

“Barman, gives a round; no, a corner,” Mbandambanda called the barman.

“Whose bill?”MG 66 asked.

“Mine, of course. Did you want to pay, mademo-iselle?”Mbandambanda asked mockingly.

We laughed. MG 66 laughed too. The drinks came. I went for a bottle of fantakoko, while the rest took their usual haram drinks.

“Are you okey, boss?”Mbandambanda asked me.

“Yeah.  During Christmas and New Year festivities, I don’t take haram things.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be among police statistics of fatalities and casualties. Besides, during Christmas and New Year festivities everybody drinks, but I don’t want part of everybody,” I explained and sipped my fantakoko.

Mbandambanda changed topics. “You know,” he continued, “Politicians are a very funny lot. They think we, the voters, don’t know what they know. They think they can hide from us, their employers. That is what they think and they are wrong; very wrong; downright wrong; damn wrong.”

“What’s new? If it’s about cashgate, don’t tell us,” Native Authority Mandela said, virtually covering Mbandambanda’s mouth with his left palm.

“The point is that these politicians think we don’t think. One after another they come. ‘Cashgate started in 2005; no 2006’. No this; yes that. Another one comes, ‘since 1995, 30% of Malawi’s resources have been lost through corruption’. If they all know how public resources are wasted why don’t they act? If they knew that cashgate started in 2006 why did they not act then? Or in 2012 when Mutharika died? Did they have to wait for Mphwiyo to be shot?”

“Just drink your beer, Ntcheu boy. Find peace with yourself. For every thief that is caught another one is born such that the number of thieves in the world is constant.”

“You mean,” Mbandambanda went retorted, “we should stop talking about cashgate?”

“Just drink and forget your worries,” MG 66 said slowly to emphasise her point.

“Have you listened to Bobby Macferrin’s popular song?” Jean-Philippe asked.

“Which song?” Mbandambanda asked.

“Maferrin sings thus: ‘Don’t worry about cahsgate, just be happy because nobody will be punished. And No money will be recovered but you will continue paying taxes. So…,” Jean-Philippe said.

“Don’t worry, be happy!”MG66 sung along.