Hugh Masekela is one South African musician who captured me. He could sing of beauty and romance in unfathomable tunes, painting colourful African market scenes.
With stinging jazz chords, he sang of cows grazing in ancestral savannas, bringing out the rhythm and heartbeat of Africa in tomtoms, dumbas and djembes.
When he sang Bring Him Back, the African soul felt it was not only Mandela who must be freed from Robben Island, but every Madiba on African soil. Yet it is Stimela that haunts me today, as half‑dressed hooligans chase African migrants from the one‑time Rainbow Nation now clouded in scarlet shame.
The poetic Stimela, or The Coal Train, tells of men from Namibia, Malawi, and beyond, travelling to Johannesburg’s mines. Many never saw their loved ones again, some murdered in the dead of night. The prose may not match Masekela’s poetry, but the message is clear.
There was a time Malawians travelled south not in fear, but in hope. Under the old Teba system, men from Blantyre, Liwonde, Mzimba — even uncles from Mponela — went to work in South Africa’s mines. It was formal: contracts, wages, remittances.
Families back home counted on a steady trickle of rand, and miners returned with stories of hard labour but dignity intact. A continent bruised by colonialism found in Teba a curious order: a pipeline of labour that kept households afloat and South Africa’s gold glittering.
Fast‑forward, to today, and the glitter has turned to smoke. Bra Hugh must be turning in his grave. Xenophobic attacks have become South Africa’s recurring nightmare, a grotesque theatre where mobs blame foreigners for unemployment, crime, and every pothole in Johannesburg. We’ve seen this script before: 2008, 2015, 2019. Each time, violence flares, government wrings its hands, and the continent sighs.
The latest wave has been cruel to Malawians, who feature prominently among the victims. Reports on SABC, Mail & Guardian, and eNCA have highlighted Malawian calamities, even pushing aside global headlines. Why are more Malawians ending up at the mercy of these warriors? Because corruption has robbed them of jobs at home, fuelling a steady trek southward.
Malawi’s youth, facing joblessness and dwindling prospects, get trafficked to Gauteng as the promised land. The irony is bitter: they escape graft and poverty only to be accused of “stealing jobs” in a country whose own corruption scandals could fill a library.
South Africa has lost the plot. Look at how Africans rallied behind Mexico in their first World Cup game. Look at how South African artists’ shows are being cancelled across the continent, even here in Malawi. Football unites, so does art. Will South Africa pick up the pieces?
The sports and cultural boycott echoes the apartheid era, when Africa said “no trade” to Pretoria — except, awkwardly, for Malawi, which kept its doors open. If Africa once stood against apartheid, why should it not stand against xenophobia?
But where are Sadc and the African Union? Likely in a boardroom authoring another communiqué condemning spear‑wielding madness. Gone are the days Africans were truly united.
Mind you, I stand against illegal migration, but there is no tolerance for intolerance. The truth is stark: South Africa cannot continue to export jazz, football, and Mandela quotes while its biggest export is shame. Officials may insist this is not xenophobia, but when they sit down and smell the coffee, they will have to name this imbroglio in isiZulu or Xhosa.
Xenophobia is not just South Africa’s problem; it is Africa’s credibility test. To pass that test, remove Africa from South Africa.
