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Gutted yes, but can we wail silently, please

When songbird Grace Chinga died after an illness, rumours were rife that she had been ‘sacrificed’ because of her song Ndiwulula. Hundreds attended her funeral out of curiosity. The narrative has gone on even when her tombstone was vandalised.

In May this year, when a fire incident injured and subsequently took rapper Martse’s life in Mangochi, similar rumours erupted-this time they were louder.

Her death was marred with rumours: Grace Chinga

First, fans accused rising star Eli Njuchi of having a hand in the rapper’s death because his hit song Gu Gu Gu has the words “Mudzangomva wina wafa….wina wafa...”. Without any clear connection, the artist was almost attacked and had to be whisked away soon after his performance at Martse’s funeral. After the incident, other personalities were also named and similarly accused. As a matter of fact the case is in court.

But the fact remains, we have a problem when it comes to mourning the dead. We connect their death to either Satanism or unexplained phenomena.

So, this article had to come after lengthy hesitation within my little and poorly-shaped head.

Yes, I have finally opted to weigh in on the ongoing debate as regards to how the nation mourns the death of its celebrities.

This should also include how their respective families react and tend to dictate the nation on how it ought to ‘help’ them mourn their beloved; especially in the wake of the growing new media.

I have in mind the continued ‘revelations’, somehow read ‘teasing’ on the events leading to the death of some departed music icons.

To begin with, let me put an outright disclaimer: I do not blame people for grieving.

Neither am I here to support those seemingly getting ‘bored’ of how bereaved families and fans continue digging up for answers to their loved ones’ deaths.

I, however, want to emphasise that no death gives out to mankind an appropriate answer, not even a clue.

Death is, in itself, unexplainable.

Death is a mystery.

Death robs.

Death lives with us.

Death strikes at will.

Death, despite that we live knowing that it will strike again amongst us, still catches us unawares.

Every death, even when anticipated or wished either by self or of someone, always leaves us hollow.

As long as we live, grief will be with us, woven into the fabric of our days.

The legendary Paul Simon had to expertly include some line to that effect in his Graceland masterstroke that he did with the golden and evergreen Ladysmith Black Mambazo:

“...losing love

Is like a window in your heart

Everybody sees you’re blown apart

Everybody sees the wind blow…

Now back to the Martse saga, which has become like an episode of some sort, I think it is fair to say that we grieve differently.

We heal differently too.

As such, I totally choose to understand what Martse’s family, particularly his brother, are going through.

Grieving is never rehearsed.

In fact, I find that prolonged grieving, to some extent, evident enough of some failure in us as a people to accept the reality that what has happened has happened.

Many a times, this may also construe to us living in regrets.

It could be some things we did or did not do, some words we said of or to the deceased that we ought not to have said.

At times, it is some words we ought to have said of, or to them, while they lived, but eventually ended up not doing.

The grave, therefore, is said to be rich with unspoken words, unfulfilled dreams and lives unlived.

Besides, don’t they say that talk is cheap and action proves why words are empty?

Unfortunately, for mankind, regrets are like grandchildren; they always come late in life.

It makes it harder, therefore, for this particular family of Martse and all those in similar situations to have shared their lives with their departed loved ones in Malawi; a country where as hinted earlier, every death has to be logical.

In fact, in Malawi, with all its array of traditions and beliefs, death of a celebrity is not welcomed nor expected.

If it happens, then someone should be behind it.

Doubting Thomases just need to flip the pages back to the deaths of the departed greats in Evison Matafale, Grace Chinga-Moffat, Vic Marley, Eric Mabedi and others just to appreciate the argument being raised here.

Artists or celebrities in Malawi just don’t have to die. When they do, which we all eventually will do, it is always “gone too early…”

It is as if we are all aware when they were supposed to leave the stage, and how they were supposed to die, anyway.

Seemingly to agree with this notion, social media influencer Pemphero Mphande recently wrote on Twitter: “Our society glorifies poverty and demonises wealth. It credits God for life and the devil for death. Sad people!”

That explains all this hullabaloos whenever one of those famous loved ones finally breathes their last.

As for me, I choose to comfort myself with the fact that I am no God, nor a deity of some sort to know in advance the destiny of all men.

I do not even pretend to be wise.

All I know for sure is that we are all mortal, and that we are all prone to death, which-am convinced- lives lurking around us.

The fact that tomorrow is never guaranteed always gives me the chance to live today in the best way possible.

Of course, I also remind myself that critics are always going to be there and that people always talk; dissecting how we each live our respective lives in tandem to their expectations of us; unrealistic as some may be.

However, I believe that what matters is how one looks at themselves.

Finally, I tend to find comfort, counsel and inspiration in Speak, a poem by Qabaniso Malewezi which basically attempts to explore what it means to speak.

I hope my colleagues will be taking notes as well

“To speak is a calling that first calls us all to listen

“But listening is not just waiting for someone else to finish speaking

“It is an art that many are called to, few answer; and even fewer master

Perhaps, the celebrated poet must have had an insight into the future as regards what we are going through as a nation.

As for me, one thing that this life has taught me about death is never to try looking for answers for the latter.

Let Martse’s soul as well as those of other celebrities that departed rest!

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