It is a sunny Monday morning at Kayereka Primary School in the gold-rich plain of Kasungu.
At 14, Standard Six learner Alice Mwale is supposed to be in class, but she is nowhere near.
As the 8am bell rings to beckon learners to class, the girl stands ankle-deep in muddy water at a gold site in Gogodi, her bare hands stuffing soil into a green plastic bucket in search of elusive flecks of gold.
“Mom asked me to come with her,” she says.
Behind her, mounds of earth rise like anthills. Nearby, her mother watches, unfazed that her daughter has skipped classes.
“She is not as young as you think,” says the mother.
This gives a glimpse of child labour as authorities regulate the country’s extractive sector from the air-conditioned offices at Capital Hill in Lilongwe, about 140 kilometres away.
From mining regulators to environmental protectors and labour inspectors, government officials have all but left illegal mining to its own devices and rules as it dumps local communities, including children, to slavish conditions in risky workplaces that have claimed 10 lives in Kasungu.
At Matongwe gold mining site, Martin Mkandawire, 10, and his peers swing picks and shovels almost their size. Others drag out wet soil from deep tunnels while a 13-year-old boy operates a heavy jackhammer powered by a generator.
The heavy vibrating drill bores rock and the minor earns K5 000 a day for the job many adults shun.
At the crowded site, children aged 10 to 15 endure hard labour for as little as K2000 a day. Their teeth and faces are stained with soil as they work through the mud.
“Sometimes, I get K5 000 for filling a one-tonne lorry with soil containing gold,” says Martin, who joined the game along with his peers in 2024. “On a good day, I load three tonnes, but it is not easy.”
At times, the boy and his peers makes as low as K2 000—not enough for bread.
“I want to buy a motorcycle and start carrying people on our roads for a fee,” he says, beaming with a smile that reveals his dust-stained teeth.
Dozens of children spend days in open-cast, illegal gold mines of Matongwe, Gogodi, Chimbiya and Chavwerema in Kasungu East.
Surrounding schools—Chimbiya, Livweze and Kayereka—have lost learners to the yawning pits, a blow to the national push to ensure every child learns until their dreams come true.
The Employment Act outlaws children under 18 from any work that endangers their health, safety or education.
But district and national authorities look unconcerned as children around Kasungu’s unorthodox gold mines increasingly take to the life-threatening pits.
The work is harsh and hazardous. Children crawl into narrow shafts, hack at hard soil and haul heavy bags of ore to pans—a routine that claimed eight lives in September, one two weeks ago and another last Friday.
They use bare hands. No gloves. No masks. No boots. No ear plugs to protect them from the earth-shaking din of groaning power generators, gold mills and jackhammers.
The local miners named former lawmakers, children of retired heads of State, Asian business elites and foreign nationals as owners of the illegal gold mines.
“Even the machines here are not owned by locals. We cannot afford these machines. They operate them through local fronts,” said a supervisor at one site linked to a former legislator.
According to policy analyst Mabvuto Bamusi, the involvement of politically exposed persons scares regulators from policing the mining industry blighted by illicit financial flows, human rights violations and attacks on the environment.
For the mining cartels, hiring adults, especially men with responsibilities, is costly.
“Children accept even K2 000,” said the supervisor at Gogodi where a collapsed mine killed eight, including a 14-year-old boy, two month ago.
Three of the 12 killed since September were children.
“The tragedy repeated itself this month, killing three, including a 13-year-old girl and a 14-year-old boy,” says eyewitness Happy Mhinji.
Yet illegal and unsustainable mining persists, with children increasingly lured to the pits.
Village head Siliuka of Gogodi blames government for neglecting the ills of illegal mining, including violations of children’s right to education and a safe environment.
“The number of children spikes during school holidays,” she says. “Many may have gone back to school now, but during holidays the numbers are even higher.”
She and Traditional Authority Chitanthamapiri warn locals against child exploitation, but seldom get heeded.
“The tragedies ought to scare people from mining irresponsibly, but police and regulators only come when accidents happen,” said Siliuka.
Kasungu Civil Society Network chairperson Braxton Banda said local authorities have failed to act.
“The problem is that mining activities are centrally controlled from Lilongwe. District councils are not involved,” he said.
In an interview, Director of Mines Mphatso Chikoti, now Mining and Mines Regulatory Authority (MMRA) director general, said the ministry was aware of illegal mining activities and recent accidents.
He said a team of inspectors from MMRA and the Malawi Environmental Protection Authority visited the sites, but was yet to submit its report.
“We deployed inspectors. Once we have a comprehensive report, we will take action,” Chikoti said.
The government’s Annual Economic Report of 2024 ranks Kasungu, Balaka, Neno, Machinga, Mangochi, Nkhata Bay and Nkhotakota as informal gold mining hotspots.
Mining expert Grey Malunga, formerly Minister of Mining, says child labour accounts for over half of the workforce in artisanal and illegal sites due to lax regulation.
“We should not normalise child labour and exploitation. We have enough laws to stop this, but the problem is enforcement. Authorities need to make laws work,” he said.
