Wails for music from far and wide
It is some time after nine this Sunday night. Mayi Chimchere, the local chikokeyani brewer at Zalewa in Neno, has just switched off her loud music player to the dismay of her patrons.
As the patrons refuse to go home and put their heads on their pillows, Mayi Chimchere is forced to reconsider her decision. The music is back.
Shouts one patron: “We can’t go home now. I have all the money. I have sold kanyenya at the roadblock.”
One boy in saggy pants (trousers worn lower than the waist) seems to be the best dancer this night. He twists his waist and shakes his body way into the night to the sound of Nigerian, Zambian, South African and Malawian beats.
As the night grows, Mayi Chimchere seems irked with some old folk, who has been sipping chikokeyani from a big plastic cup.
“Why are you pulling my skirt? If you think I am here for sex, you are mistaken. If you want girls, why don’t you go to the trading centre,” she says, as the man shrugs.
There are two trading centres near Mayi Chimchere’s spot: Zalewa Roadblock and Zalewa Turn Off.
It is a little after 10 and Zalewa Turn Off is kicking to life. Heavy-goods trucks are strewn along the road as the Mwanza Border Post has closed for the night. You see scantily dressed women coming out of trucks, walking into the two main entertainment joints: Alomwe Alomwe and Mikulungu. Some are at the counters, watching Nigerian moves, as some men are engaged in games of pool.
You find similar scenes at Mwanza Boma, as the town scarcely sleeps at such joints such as Sangalala Leisure Centre.
Around two the following afternoon, you see some familiar faces from Sangalala at the other hottest joint of Mwanza: Baghdad. This is not the Iraqi capital. It is a chain of entertainment joints you find in Lilongwe and Blantyre’s Ndirande. Here, you find patrons enjoying opaque and bottled beer, liquor in sachets while others watch TV. There is something for everyone.
As the sun sets, DJ Lebo walks past the pool table, into the DJ booth. He goes past a man selling potency herbs to four men sipping Chibuku into his cubicle. Once in front of his computer, mic in hand, he starts churning the tunes. Some patrons jump onto the dancefloor.
“I dish out the beats to their pleasure. From Malawian, South African, Zimbabwean, Nigerian and Mozambican beats, we let the music roll to the patrons’ pleasure. This is our major source of entertainment,” says DJ Lebo.
As Elias Chekucheku, one of his patrons, observes, much as the town is filled with fun in the pubs, the absence of live shows is a gap musicians have failed to fill.
“We have had shows from Black Missionaries and Lucius Banda at the Mwanza Hotel and Sangalala Leisure Centre but that is about it. Musicians shun Mwanza, forgetting that this is one of the places that introduces foreigners to Malawi. Those coming from Mozambique, Zimbabwe and even South Africa definitely would enjoy more live shows by Malawian artists here,” says Chekucheku.
But Chekucheku’s worry may just be a moan, compared to what fun seekers experience in Neno, a district next door. Here, there is absolutely no nightlife. It is so dull. The wailing is clear, as the community hall has seen no performances in ages.
The last time the people saw an artist live, it was Lucius Banda and Zembani Band, who were on former president Joyce Banda’s campaign trail during the run-up to the May 2014 polls.
“The community hall has been turned into a venue for wedding and engagement ceremonies,” wails one fun seeker, Joseph Makunganya.
According to the Malawi National Culture Policy —which has gathered cobwebs and tonnes of dust in some government shelf at Capital Hill since the early 1980’s awaiting debate in and enacted into law by Parliament —community halls like the one in Neno will have to be used for the promotion of Malawi arts: music, poetry, drama, dance and even painting.
In fact, as long time music promoter Jai Banda, aka Mr Entertainer, observes, councils themselves are to blame for the gap. Councils are missing revenue from music performances.
“It would be difficult for musicians to organise a show in, say, Phalombe. To cover transport, advertising and other costs would be difficult for them to recover costs and make money. However, councils could use community halls to generate income. They could hire artists and sell drinks and snacks during the show to raise more money,” says Banda.
Echoing Makunganya’s worries over the lack of live music performance in joints away from town, Phalombe community policing coordinator Clement Madeira says in spite of the place being one of the safest havens in the country, there is neither nightlife nor live shows as musicians shun it. He says apart from the Police Orchestra performing in the district twice in recent times, the last time the district saw a live performance was two years ago when Black Missionaries performed to launch the Rivonia joint along the Mulanje-Phalombe-Zomba road.
“We are starved. Bands shun the district. When they come, their marketing is at times poor as they only put up posters, which many miss. The last time we enjoyed shows was during the campaign period,” says Madeira.
The time is now close to 5am. It is Saturday. We have not been to Machinga, Chikwawa, Nsanje, Ntcheu, Ntchisi, Dowa or Chitipa and Rumphi where lovers of big time musicians share the sad tale of only hearing their artists’ music only from radio sets or watch them on DVDs. The sun is just rising, and if you rub your eyes, as you come out of Chris Corner in Mulanje where a disco has been running all night, you see some revellers with beer bottles in hand. Eyes fiery from a night of jive.
“Chris Corner never sleeps on Friday nights. Talking of live music performances, they are not so common out here. At times, people have had to go to Smallville, at the Luchenza turn off for live music performances. That is not often, though,” bemoans one patron.
The loud cries emanate from the caves of Phalombe, the depths of Mulanje rivers, the chasms of Mwanza forests and forgotten hills of Neno; cries falling on deaf ears.
