On Thursday, Malawians once again observed the familiar national ritual known as Kamuzu Day set aside to honour the country’s founding president, Ngwazi Hastings Kamuzu Banda, who led Malawi from independence in 1964 until 1994.
Marked annually on May 14, the public holiday is meant to invite reflection on the life and legacy of the “Lion of Malawi”, who shaped the anti-colonial struggle alongside other nationalists and presided over a country emerging from 57 years of British colonial rule.
But this year, folks, something felt different. Very different!
Beneath the usual choreography of prayers, speeches and wreaths, there was a quieter manifestation of political separation that Malawians have slowly become familiar with over the years.
At the Kamuzu Mausoleum in Lilongwe’s City Centre, Minister of Youth, Sports and Culture Alfred Gangata represented President Peter Mutharika and led the official commemoration attended by senior government officials, Parliament leadership, DPP officials, traditional authorities, clergy, close members of Kamuzu’s family, some opposition and civil society groups.
A stone’s throw away at the MCP headquarters, a parallel commemoration carrying the same symbolic weight but a different political tone was also planned, with separate prayers and distinct emotional ownership. On paper, it was a national commemoration, but in practice, it felt like a family meeting where the main argument is not about the agenda, but about who greeted who first at the gate.
The explanation by MCP secretary general Richard Chimwendo-Banda only deepened the divide. He told reporters on Wednesday that MCP president Lazarus Chakwera was not invited to the official State commemoration. According to him, the party had expected full participation, arguing that Kamuzu is not only a national figure, but also the founding leader of MCP.
He further explained that MCP was told Chakwera could not be included because Mutharika was not personally attending and had delegated representation to a minister. In the same arrangement, MCP later opted to hold separate prayers at its headquarters, with Chakwera expected to later lay a wreath at Kamuzu’s resting place.
And just like that, this year’s Kamuzu Day intended as a moment of reflection and national cohesion, became another reminder of how fragile unity becomes when filtered through political identity. Kamuzu governed us under the famous four cornerstones of Unity, Loyalty, Obedience and Discipline. Yet today, those same ideals sit alongside competing interpretations of how his legacy should be honoured — each shaped by political affiliation and institutional interest.
As Chimwendo Banda argued, he is also inseparable from the party’s identity — its historical foundation and political memory. From that perspective, excluding MCP leadership from a national commemoration feels less like protocol and more like symbolic distancing.
And it is never as simple as “we were not invited” or “they refused to attend.” It is about how symbolism, protocol and political identity constantly collide in Malawian politics.
In State functions of this nature, delegation is normally straightforward. Institutions are absorbed into the official programme through representatives. MCP could have delegated senior officials and still participated fully within the State arrangement.
But then in African politics, attendance is never just attendance. It is recognition. It is status. It is legitimacy performed in public view. Who is present, who is absent, and who is placed where often becomes louder than the speeches themselves.
Perception does not wait for clarification. It arrives first, settles quickly, and is difficult to reverse. MCP may have interpreted the situation as a subtle downgrade in the hierarchy of political recognition within Kamuzu’s memory.
Perhaps they are not alone in reading politics this way.
Not long ago, similar sensitivities emerged during national mourning arrangements for the Chikangawa plane crash that claimed the lives of former vice-president Saulos Chilima and others. Different groups observed grief in different spaces.
Chakwera himself led the State in one event while families also held their own prayers, revealing again how national memory and personal or political ownership rarely align neatly.
So, in my opinion, the State must remain wide enough to include everyone although our politics always tries to narrow that space into “us” and “them.”
