There was a time when South Africa was simply our neighbour. Today, it seems to have become Malawi’s unofficial State House annexe. The President visits so often that he could probably qualify for a frequent traveller discount.
President Peter Mutharika has once again departed for what the Office of the President and Cabinet (OPC) describes as a “Private Visit” to South Africa. If you have lost count, don’t blame yourself. This is reportedly the fourth private visit to the same country since he assumed office.
By now, immigration officials at OR Tambo International Airport must be greeting the presidential delegation like old friends.
“Welcome back, Your Excellency,” they might say. “The usual lounge? The usual motorcade? Shall we keep your favourite parking bay ready?”
Now, there is nothing wrong with a President travelling. Presidents are expected to travel. They attend summits, negotiate trade agreements, promote investment, strengthen diplomatic ties and occasionally smile for photographs while signing documents nobody reads.
Nobody complains about official travel.
The puzzle lies in that wonderfully convenient little word: private.
Private is becoming one of the hardest-working words in government vocabulary. It answers every question without actually answering any.
Where is the President going?
Private.
Why South Africa again?
Private.
What is the purpose of the visit?
Private.
Who is accompanying him?
Private.
Who is paying?
Well… that question suddenly becomes even more private.
It is almost magical. One word, and every uncomfortable question disappears into thin air.
Except for one stubborn fact.
The President of Malawi stopped being a private citizen the moment he took the oath of office. He occupies the country’s highest public office. His movements involve security officers, intelligence personnel, protocol officials, aircraft, fuel, logistics and enough planning to organise a small military exercise.
None of those things are private.
More importantly, none of them are free.
Even if part of the trip is genuinely personal, somebody still pays for the aircraft, the security team, the advance party and everyone whose job is to ensure that the Head of State travels safely.
Those somebodies are called taxpayers.
And taxpayers have this irritating habit of asking questions before reaching for their wallets.
Imagine boarding a bus after buying a ticket. You ask the conductor where the bus is going.
“Private,” he replies.
You ask when it will arrive.
“Private.”
You ask why everyone else is wearing swimming costumes while you are carrying a suitcase.
“Private.”
Most passengers would probably demand a refund before the engine even starts.
Yet somehow we have accepted that the country’s most expensive traveller can repeatedly fly to exactly the same destination under the label “private”, and we are expected to clap politely and admire government’s commitment to confidentiality.
Of course, every President is entitled to privacy. Every human being deserves that right.
If the President requires medical attention, no sensible Malawian expects doctors to display his X-rays during the evening news or read out his blood pressure before the weather forecast.
Medical records belong in hospitals, not newspaper headlines.
But there is an important difference between respecting medical privacy and pretending that nothing requires explanation.
Around the world, governments routinely issue brief statements when leaders undergo medical treatment. They do not publish prescriptions or laboratory results. They simply reassure citizens that their elected leader is receiving appropriate care and remains capable of carrying out constitutional responsibilities.
That is called transparency.
It protects both personal dignity and public confidence.
Silence, on the other hand, rarely protects confidence.
It breeds rumours faster than weeds after the first rains.
When government refuses to explain why the President repeatedly travels to one destination, people naturally begin filling the gaps themselves. Before long, every taxi driver has a theory, every barber has inside information and every WhatsApp group suddenly becomes an intelligence agency.
Rumour becomes the country’s most efficient communication department.
Ironically, government spends millions warning citizens against misinformation while simultaneously providing misinformation with fertile soil, sunshine and regular watering.
Nature dislikes a vacuum.
Politics dislikes one even more.
Perhaps there is a perfectly innocent explanation for these repeated visits. Perhaps there is a genuine family matter. Perhaps there is medical treatment. Perhaps there is another entirely reasonable explanation that deserves respect.
If so, tell the nation enough to put minds at ease.
Transparency has never weakened a presidency.
Mystery usually does.
Leadership depends not only on constitutional authority but also on public trust. Trust is built through openness, not through press statements that reveal little more than departure times, return dates and the reassuring promise that everything else is “private”.
Malawians are not demanding to inspect the President’s medical file. They are not asking for holiday selfies, shopping receipts or dinner reservations in Johannesburg.
They are asking one straightforward question.
Why does the Head of State keep travelling to South Africa?
That is not idle curiosity.
It is accountability.
After all, the Presidency may belong to one individual, but it is financed by nearly 22 million others.
Those citizens deserve more than a boarding announcement followed by a national game of guesswork.
Because when public money repeatedly finances private trips without meaningful explanation, the only thing that remains truly private is the truth.
