Gone but still in our midst

The chorus of wails was too loud on the sunny Wednesday afternoon at Area 18 Cemetery in Lilongwe.

Too loud for the sermons, too loud for the eulogies. It was an afternoon sunk in a sea of tears as thousands turned up to see off a young, lifeless artist walk his last mile.

But the wails, listened to with a heart, were not too loud to hear the silent stories on the faces of the mourners, stories that made it hurt even more.

There is his mother, helpless and drained, being stopped from reaching to the descending casket, yearning if heavens could give her back her 28-year-old son, the child she carried in her womb only to see him off in her old age.

There is the visibly distressed father, standing in agony, tears streaming deep in his heart, watching grave diggers burying his son as if it was during wartime where parents bury their children.

There are siblings there, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncontrollable in their wail, each telling it out what the deceased meant to them.

And then there are friends, his fans, his admirers; all in disbelief, watching a joyous young man they took pictures with, they talked with just few days ago, mercilessly abandoning them in a world where he made many happy and jovial.

None can best describe what Martin Nkhata Junior, a youthful talented rapper who changed the world as Martse, really meant to the nation than thousands that gathered in Blantyre, those that lined up the Blantyre-Lilongwe stretch of the M1 to see him pass, hundreds that packed his Likuni house,  thousands that filled Civo Stadium and more that saw him descend to eternity at Area 18 Cemetry.

“The ghetto has lost a voice, has lost an artist who was accessible to all, laughed with everyone and represented the struggles of a common youth in Malawi,” says Enifa Likulu, who walked from Area 23 to join those that saw Martse walk his last mile in Area 18.

It is the memories of what Martse represented to the family, to the friends, to the fans and to the nation that has the entire country in grief, united by the different memories of his friendliness.

In fact, death has a strange way of stirring deep level of public fondness towards the departed.

Government was heavily represented with four Cabinet ministers and the wife to the Vice-President.

Perhaps Marste’s departure will strike certain chords that will influence policy direction to recognise the urban artist, a group of artists that have, for years, been sidelined for championing “childish and irrelevant music”.

When everyone thought only one of the ministers would be present, government officials came in full force, all united in questioning circumstances of Martse’s death.

The family has a version that defies every level of sense and logic.

He slept on the living room and was charging his phone then fire broke out, said Uchizi Nkhata, family spokesperson.

“Him and friends went out. But he returned to the house, locked the doors and got burnt [on] 50 percent of the body,” he said.

The version had everyone in deep and vast doubt, pushing government officials to publicly challenge it, calling on the police to institute investigations.

But to cap it all, we all are in grief for one of us, Martse, has returned to where he wasn’t supposed to go at his age. As days go by, the reality will sink in our hearts and we will be comforted by the music he has left us with.

He is gone, but has not left us alone.