May 14 2026
So, it is Kamuzu Day again! This used to be a Malawi Congress Party (MCP) Christmas in the one-party State days.
Memories abound of how, as Standard 7 pupils, we filled Kamuzu Stadium terraces, doing displays and singing praises for His Excellency the Life President Ngwazi Dr H Kamuzu Banda.
One song went: Akhale ndi moyo Angwazi, zaka zambirimbiri Angwazi (May God grant the Ngwazi long life). In our innocence, we twisted it to: Akhale folo mabanzi, folo. Our Malawi Young Pioneers trainers Magwaya and Tsinde gave us a bun and milk scone each, but we wanted more.
Had the Ngwazi known that moyo was slang for a bun, we might have ended up minced meat for crocs at Stella Maris MYP camp.
On our way home in UTM buses, we sang: Tadya milo milo takhuta.
As I write, MCP and government are at loggerheads over how to celebrate the deceased leader’s birthday. Kamuzu Banda’s spirit must be surprised that MCP now lays claim to him.
Why did they fail to follow his path to develop Malawi? Why did they disown him by removing his portrait from party cloth? Why, then, should they stand on rooftops that they loved him more?
I may be wrong, but the current MCP leadership stood by Kamuzu’s four cornerstones in their eerie manner: United to loot, loyal only to themselves, obedient to the corrupt, and disciplined to wield pangas and sjamboks to disrupt peaceful demonstrations.
This week has been tearful. A sombre mood engulfed Kamuzu Stadium as 15 bodies (six women, five men, four children) of Malawians who died in a bus accident in Zimbabwe lay in state before being taken to their homes in Thyolo, Mzimba, Mangochi, Balaka and Mulanje.
Every life is precious but I grieved more for an unborn child. Unique Phiri Soko, seven months pregnant, died in that accident.
As fate would have it, a head-on collision on the M5 between a minibus and a truck claimed five lives. A week before, as we travelled to celebrate World Press Freedom Day on May 3, the pot-holed road showed all signs of being a death-trap. The road users: Heavily laden Sientas, motorcycles, minibuses and trucks carrying heavy sugar loads from Dwangwa and maize from Bwanje.
By the way, on May 9, we ushered in the new don at Misa Malawi, Felix Washon. Don’t ask me if I voted for him or Innocent Mphongolo, Alex Banda or Janet Mtali. It is an in-house Fourth Estate thing you cannot undetstand as the election never scratched the line between public relations and journalism.
President Peter Mutharika, aka Mkulukutamoyo, has his way with words. Recently, he dismissed talk of fuel shortages as blurbing: mfwe, mfwe, mfwe.
And when he was driven from Blantyre to Lilongwe, APM had no kind words for the M1 that made his frame go khutchu-khutchu-khutchu.
Shortly after, the Roads Authority announced plans to rehabilitate the road. After years of collecting levies and toll fees at Kalinyeke and Chingeni tollgates, RA woke from slumber only after Mutharika’s ordeal.
Shall it take the President to board the 75-year-old Illala for operators to realise she needs a new sewer system?
During the campaign, Mutharika’s catch word was: Mwakhaula eti? Today, he seems to be silently saying mukhaula simunati, judging by the heavy taxes his government imposes.
Think of low tobacco prices and why he chose not to open auction floors and shout at buyers rejecting an ounce of green gold!
Mutharika must be happy that the Malawi Revenue Authority squeezed K532 billion in April alone, exceeding the K510 billion target, from Malawians’ empty pockets.
I could go on and say tikukhaula with revised traffic fines. Forget a driver’s licence—you pay K200 000. Not long ago, failing to stop costed you K8 000; now it’s K100 000. These hefty fines will only raise the cost of a handshake between a police officer and minibus drivers as well as Sienta operator, nothing for the public purse.
My heart is with Yobe Ching’oma and his wife Migras Mussa. It is in the coffins of Love Manthola, Madalitso William, Baza Sande, January Cholomali and Marly Galawe.
I will not talk about kukhaula kwathu economically because my heart bleeds for these Lower Shire seven, brutally murdered over bizarre sorcery suspicions.
My heart is in their graves until justice is done and the perpetrators rot and rot in jail, as Dr Banda would say.
