Patrick Achitabwino articles

The Return

2010-05-18T02:31:00.000-07:00

You might have had a wonderful literary dish of Ngugi wa Thiong’o served with his novels entitled The river between, A grain of wheat, Devil on the cross, Petals of blood, Matigari, a play I will get married when I want, and the drama: The trial of Dedan Kimathi. Take time now to read The Return, one of Ngugi’s few short stories; you will still enjoy Ngugi’s characterization and style.
It appears that Ngugi, the greatest writer to have come from the East and Central Africa as the East African Standard of 8 September 2002 calls him, likes testing some of his characters in short stories before bringing them onto a larger picture in a novel.
The English couple who feature in Goodbye Africa become the Thompsons in ‘A grain of Wheat.’ Joshua in The River Between is an extended character from the Village Priest. What more in The Return as the main character, Kamau, is the prototype for Gikonyo in A grain of wheat.
The Return showcases Ngugi’s attempt to expose the trauma suffered by the Kenya’s Gikuyu people, both as individuals and on a community level, during the period that the British declared a state of emergency as it was struggling to contain the Mau Mau uprising.
The story takes you on a long road of hope that ends in disillusionment, it goes with a reader through the labyrinths of betrayal, it exposes the expectations of a man who longs to meet his wife after a five year period of detention; the very woman a man had lived with for only two weeks before being arrested.
Going through the return one passes through the heart breaking experience of how other people can use the plight of others to satisfy their personal interests. When Kamau arrived home, eagerly looking forward to the embrace of his wife, his mother brings a bombshell.
The episode is explained as follows: ‘She was a good daughter,’ his mother was explaining. ‘She waited for you and patiently bore all the ills of the land. Then Karanja came and said that you were dead. Your father believed him. She believed him too and mourned for a month. Karanja constantly paid us visits… Then she got a child. We could have kept her. But where is the land? Where is the food? With land consolidation, our last security was taken away. We let Karanja go with her…’
The bottom line however is that Karanja, son of Njogu, had never been in the same detention camp with Kamau. The falsification of Kamau’s death was therefore a plot to get hold of Kamau’s wife.
Typical of Ngugi, he toes the theme line from the beginning of the story to the end. All talk is centred on Kamau’s journey from the prison to home, his hopes, his aspirations, and the encounters he came across on the way.

You will have a feeling along the way in the story that Kamau’s journey would end to the contrary of his expectations. At one point Kamau is shown meeting women of his village on the river who could not even respond to his greeting.
Ngugi artistically explains the scene: ‘Is it well with you?’ A few voices responded. The other women, with tired and worn features, looked at him mutely as if his greeting was of no consequence. Why! Had he been so long in the camp? His spirits were dampened as he feebly asked: ‘Do you not remember me?’ Again they looked at him. They stared at him with cold, hard looks; like everybody else, they seemed to be deliberately refusing to know or own him.
The Return can be classified as a historical piece of literature that traces the problems associated with war on cultural trends and life. The author, Ngugi wa Thiongo is a literary and social activist. He was once a distinguished Professor of English and Comparative Literature as well as the Director of the International Center for Writing and Translation at the University of California, Irvine.
The Return is published in the Anthology of East African Short Stories edited by Valerie Kibera.

Living the Kamuzu legacy

2010-05-18T02:29:00.000-07:00

Ngwazi Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda can at best be described as the architect of Malawi’s socio-economic development. The country’s cream of professionals is beneficiaries of the magnificent educational foundations that Kamuzu built. To a great extent, Dr. Kamuzu Banda is to Malawi the godfather of the country’s infrastructural, economic, educational and political development.
Malawi can now better celebrate the day of its political icon through no any other means but the development and implementation of strategies that could at best sustain the legacy of Kamuzu Banda. One great component easily noticeable in Kamuzu’s legacy is the belief in high standards. A look at a number of infrastructural developments that Kamuzu spearheaded clearly states his vision. In terms of education, the Ngwazi believed in provision of high standards of education.
At present, the best thing we have to do is to conduct a soul search: are our educational standards living to the challenges that affect the socio-economic development of the nation? If the answer is no, then we have to go again to the drawing board, crop out all bad apples in the education system then implement a new system that will foster the growth of the country’s economy and social moral consciousness.
If the only best thing we can do as a nation is to have schools built only on paper with the money squandered in corrupt practices, the Kamuzu day would remain a mockery to us. We will have failed to live by the Kamuzu philosophy of developing the nation for the benefit of all and not the pockets of a few corrupt.
It is obvious that Kamuzu did set solid foundations for the growth of the country, be it economically or socially. Kamuzu had a good agricultural agenda with a vision to see his countrymen being food sufficient. The rice schemes had been a wonder for many years in the country. We have to sustain them in order to live the Kamuzu legacy. We can, with pride say that, in agriculture we have managed to build upon the solid foundations that Kamuzu did set. The fact that we developed a fertilizer subsidy project that has put Malawi on the map is a strong testimony that we are trying to live the Kamuzu legacy of providing food, beside clothing and shelter.
One thing most people would talk of Kamuzu is the hard working spirit that he instilled in the civil service and the general public as well. Kamuzu was well aware that with hard work Malawi could rise from the meshes of abject poverty into stardom. The big question is: fifteen years in the democratic dispensation can we still call ourselves the proud Malawians that work very hard for the development of our motherland?
How many times have our school pupils, the very future of our country, been sitting idle outside classrooms as teachers are reported to be running personal businesses or concentrate on teaching part time students? How can we justify the culture of some civil servants that is bent at attending one workshop to another day in day out not in the interest of development but to receive allowances? Why is it that to access some services in the public sector money has to exchange hands or else one will have to wait eternally to be served? Why have we lost our admirable workmanship identity, the very legacy that Kamuzu left with us?
It cannot be complete to talk of the Kamuzu legacy if we are to forget his political prowess. Though many other bad political issues were attributed to Kamuzu, it is worth noting that he shaped the political spectrum of this country. Kamuzu practiced the politics of development not the politics of self enrichment and self-aggrandizement. Kamuzu played the servant of the people not the lord of the people. It is out of such ideals that he was there to spearhead projects that entailed developing the country.
Certainly Kamuzu could have ably resisted the multi-partism system of government as he was the sitting head of state. Taking cognizance of the fact that doing such could result in bloodshed, Kamuzu opted to follow the wishes of the people. The statesmanship of the Ngwazi was well shown when he conceded defeat to his challenger Bakili Muluzi even before vote counting had been completed. From this we have a legacy of being united in adversity.
When the current crop of leadership quarrels, putting the wishes of the people at a stake, prioritizing self interest issues at the expense of the people that cast ballots, it is time we realize that we are deviating away from the legacy that Kamuzu Banda left us with.
As a nation we can say that we have to the best tried to give Kamuzu the respect he deserves. The mausoleum speaks millions of our heartfelt condolences to his family and the world in general that we will live to appreciate the works and deeds of Dr. Kamuzu Banda. Certainly, we are to a great extent preserving his legacy.
Though much is known about Kamuzu, it cannot be an exaggeration to say that there is more to the life of Kamuzu Banda that we fellow Malawians must know. The country needs biographies of Kamuzu written by the very people that have been very much close to them. Doing that would enable generations to come to appreciate the works of the father and founder of the Malawi nation. Probably the government should consider persuading the former official hostess mama Cecelia Tamanda Kazamira to write a book on Kamuzu.
We will also learn to live the Kamuzu legacy if we happen to have a special museum for him. The museum will enable us to understand what books shaped Kamuzu’s political philosophy. The museum would be a mouth piece to the world at large for generations to come on the life and works of Kamuzu.
Malawi can live in prosperity if it learns from the Kamuzu legacy and decide to live by such a legacy.

Working hard for miserable wages

2010-05-04T05:37:00.000-07:00

No nation can rise without the impact of labourers; be they manual or professionals. To every little development noticeable, the underlining denominator is the labour force.

Definitely there can never be manufacturing companies, tobacco estates, tea estates, security companies, bus companies etc in the absence of workers. It is worth noting that every time tobacco leaf is auctioned at the auction floors we realize that with it is also auctioned the sweat of labourers.

Little do we seem to realize that for every service rendered to us it has with it human sweat. The million dollar question is: is the sweat that has been shed to give us the comfort and delight attained through the service been adequately compensated?

A recent survey in the wages and salaries that citizens of the country receive in this country has shocking and appalling results. Thousands and thousands of the citizens of the country earn less than K5, 000.00 a month, thus further pushing them to the margins of abject poverty. The minimum wage in the country does not even help matters as it is far too low to necessitate an employee to attain even the least basic necessities of life.

We have a tragedy in the sense that our fellow country men and women live on starving wages. It surprises not therefore that in some institutions seminars are arranged with the element of pocketing allowances to supplement a living not development. Do we wonder then that we hold countless seminars and workshops that yield nothing? Most of them are a means to supplement a living than a strategy for addressing any intended issues.

It is the starving wages and salaries that are leaving our beloved country men and women with no choices but to take the risk of travelling to South Africa and live the miserable life of illegal immigrants; the life of a cat and mouse relationship with the police, all just to earn a little to feed their families back home. They are ready to be deported a countless times all just to ensure that they earn a good living for their families. The labour market in their own country gives them no hope for survival.

It smacks of injustice that a guard who risks his life to safeguard lives of others and even property worth millions or billions of Kwachas earns as little less as K10, 000.00 a month. This is the very same guard who has a family to care for, relatives back home to buy fertilizer for, rental and water and electricity bills to settle, children to send to school to become productive citizens of the country, medical expenses to pay, the list is endless.

At present, the most probable way to uplifting millions of starving-wages paid citizens of the country is through revolutionizing some concepts. Why is it that the poorly paid do not have medical schemes yet the top people enjoy VVIP free medical schemes? Why the unequal economics of according the top people thousands of litres of fuel while people at the bottom of the labour who are poorly paid are not even offered a little transport allowance to alleviate their mobility problems? Thousands of underpaid Malawians walk long distances every day to and from work.

Certainly, the imbalance between the top people and the bottom people in terms of earnings and privileges is unjustifiable. All we end up creating is the establishment of Berlin wall between the rich and the poor that our wages policies relegate to the margins of abject poverty. In the very end the children of a guard will become guards and those of the rich will end up ruling the poor again. We are not providing the poor an opportunity to rise to greater heights.

It is high time that humanity takes cognizance of the fact that no economic development could be meaningful if it fails to uplift millions of masses from the whims of poverty into good life. As inflation keeps hovering high thus sky- rocketing the basic necessities of life, why should we give a blind eye to the salaries of the miserably paid citizens of our country, the very compatriots of our country whose sweat make us comfortable?

One most confusing factor is that at times the people who have the capacity and power to fight for the end of poverty amongst the poor seem to prioritize their benefits you least expect. How many times have our legislators in the august house hiked their salaries and sitting allowances with unimaginable percentages all in the name of the increasing cost of living? Have they, alternatively, took the same vigor to initiative changes in the miserable home takings of the poorly paid employed citizens of the country who they represent in the august house? The answer is a big NO.

At present we need a strong policy than can end up seeing workers paid handsomely. Is the Asian business community, the Chinese business community and other foreign entrepreneurs in the country paying the citizens of the country wages enough to enable them attain basic necessities of life? Should we as a country give a blind eye to the exploitation of our citizens, the very same people that have to partake in the fruits of economic development of their motherland? Why should others be making unaccountable profits at the expense of starving workers?

It is time the business people model their mindset on the benchmark of the philosophy of Kirsten Poole, Co-owner of Kirsten’s Café and Dish Caterers. Poole says that: ‘trying to save money by short changing my employees would be like skimping on ingredients. I would lose more than I saved because of declining quality, service, reputation and customer base. You can’t build a healthy business or a healthy economy on a miserable minimum wage.’

Now is the time that the government ‘makes work pay.’ By bringing in legislation that increases the minimum wage to a good rate, the government would indirectly also have waged a winning war against poverty and diseases. As workers would afford basic necessities of life, they would certainly live healthy lives and further have the capacity to seek proper medical care.

We are proud that of late our economy has been classified as one of the best in the world. There was a time Malawi ranked the second fastest growing economy in the world. However, let us reflect this world admirable economic growth in the earnings of the people of our country as well. Let salaries of police, teachers, guards, clerics and other lower paid citizens of the country have a feel of economic growth through descent salary hikes. As long as our people live on the margins of miserable wages and salaries, talk of national economic growth can mean nothing to them. Our economic policies can only be meaningful if they address the plight of our beloved compatriots.

Living what the martyrs died for

2010-03-09T04:12:00.000-08:00

The best means of progressing to the future is through the past. Any nation can only be in a better position to strategize its development agenda without any fear of compromising all developmental gains attained only if it takes time to reminiscent over how it has evolved from the past to the present. If a nation comes to grips with ideologies and fundamental objectives that inspired others to bravely face martyrdom, it always endeavors to live the dream of the martyred heroes.
Records are clear that the most agonizing factor that led to the Chilembwe uprising against colonialism was Livingstone’s exploitation of the African labourers at coffee plantations in Chiradzulu and other surrounding districts. It was such a moral degredation and dehumanization of the owners of the land that was reaping the people’s self respect and dignity that gave Chilembwe no choice but to consider even the most unorthodox means of resolving the crisis: waging a war with little stolen resources against the Queens well armed forces.
Over a century years after that gallant fight against exploitation, are tobacco tenants earning their sweat? We might have achieved in uprooting the while Livingstones out of the plantations but we end up having Black livingstones who rejoice in the misery of the tenants, paying them as little as K30,000 to K60,000 per annum. To these poorly, below-poverty line living tenants, the dreams of those who martyred their souls to safeguard the pride of a Malawian, to earn the tiller of the ground a discent living, is nothing but a song to the flying wind. Blood shed by the martyrs of the country to wash the people of the land off the dirty of excruciating poverty is yet to cleanse them.
Malawi has had martyrs at different levels. There are those whose lives were nipped in the bud in the struggle to liberate the country from the rule of the whiteman and ensure that the owners of the land enjoy the benefits of their mother land. The second category of martyrs Malawi has had comprises of those who having attained independence from the rule of the whites noticed some anomalies in the administration of the government during the autocratic one party regime. And upon the dawn of democratic dispensation, some people lost their lives as well. Cases of the Young Democrats brutalizing people who seemed to be against the wrong policies the democratic regime was implementing awashed the media. Some deaths were wrapped in secrecy and probably justice will never prevail to reveal what happened.
In all these martyrs there is one underlying principle: the struggle to ensure that their children and generations to come live in a country that they could, with joy, call their own; a country they would be assured of moral, social and economic rights being jealously safeguarded and guaranteed; a country where no citizen would be pleased to see another citizen wallowing in the meshes of poverty in the land of plenty.
The broader visible picture is that our brave heroes, the martyrs, were fighting for a political system of governance that would address the needs of the people and treat them with respect. It is worth noting that behind any political system of governance, there is a continued struggle to ensure economic emancipation of the people of the land. There is no system of governance that mankind can cherish as long as it does not address the economic anomalies affecting the people of the land.
Autocracy, democracy, theocracy, monarchy, communism and whatever forms of political governance mean nothing to people so long if they do not provide them an economic liberalization that eventually safeguards their self-respect and dignity. As long as millions of Malawians live below the poverty line, millions of children die on birth, millions of mothers hopelessly die giving birth, the girl child walks kilometers to fetch water instead of being in class, unemployment rising steadily leading to further disillusionment amidst the youth and the country at large, nobody can say that we have or are living the dream of the martyrs. As long as the socio-economic principles that led to the martyrs sacrificing their lives still prevail then we are yet to live what the martyrs died for; we are yet to make their martyrdom worth the salt it deserves.
The collective principle behind the martyrs was to ensure equitable distribution of wealth amidst the people of the land. We can measure whether we are on a good path through looking at how many masses of the people of our country are migrating from the whims of abject poverty into good life and not the mediocre growth of the class of the elite that earns billions at the expense of their countrymen. Martyrdom was a fight against poverty and until we take strong measure in eradicating poverty then we can be said to be living what the martyrs died for.
Martin Luther King Jr. ably explains: the curse of poverty has no justification in our age. It is socially as cruel and blind as the practice of cannibalism at the dawn of civilization, when man ate each other because they had not yet learned to take food from the soil or to consume the abundant animal life around them. The time has come for us to civilize ourselves by the total, direct and immediate abolition of poverty.
Even Mahatma Gandhi, probably the godfather of non violent activism had no kind words for poverty, calling it the worst form of violence.
Strategizing on the practical initiatives to be taken for the people of Malawi to live what the martyrs died for does not require pressurizing the government alone to take a leading role. Who pays the tenants poorly? Who subjects watchmen in our homes to inhuman salaries? Who pays tea pluckers too little for a living? It is the government? The answer is no, it is us who employ those people. At the moment that the cost of living skyrockets and the sitting allowances of members of parliament rise by K5000 at one go why should the minimum 30 days wages of a citizen of the country be pegged below K5000. Do the rich and the poor go to different markets? Do the sellers of tomato offer discriminating prices pertaining to the status of the buyer? Does fuel sell differently to the rich and the poor? Isn’t the cost of maize pegged at one rate that looks at no status levels?
Let the private sector offer our country men and women better salaries. Let the Chinese investors and their colleagues that do business in the country pay our countrymen the equivalent of their sweat. Let the government offer salary adjustments to the civil servants, most especially the junior ones, salaries that can necessitate them appreciate the fruits of the martyrdom of the heroes of the country that we do commemorate on the third of March every year.
If we look to the past we are proud that others fought a gallant war for us to live in peace and harmony. They shed their blood to earn us a descent living. As we are now in the age that does not need to shed blood, our mandate is to implement the principles upon which our heroes risked lives for.

Guilty of love

2010-01-26T06:04:00.000-08:00

Guilty. Not guilty, never guilty. The steel gate of Chichiri prison banged at his back. He gulped a mouthful of fresh air. It smelled fresh and tasted kind as it flew past his throat. Five years had gone. Five years of broken dreams, hopeless hopes, in the long Jericho-walls of the prison. Marion posed for a moment, turned his face back to the prison, his heart saying goodbye. He smiled as memories took him back to life in prison.

‘Turn left,’ he could hear the threatening voice of the nyapala rumbling in his ears. All prisoners had then slept facing the right side and now it was time to turn the other side. There were moments the cell was overcrowded leaving no space to sleep. Men had to sleep while seated. That was what it was to spend life in prison.

Goodbye Chichiri, he wanted to yell on top of his voice. Goodbye my home for half a decade.
People had come and gone, others came and died, others had come and would never be set free. He had sung spiritual choruses with them, the favourite song being, Paulo ndi Silas anapemphera. Then they would sing on top of the voice when the chorus reached: zitseko zandende zinaseguka. But the gate of Chichiri prison was so stubborn to fear prayers. It was there only to open when an inmate’s sentence had expired.

“Cecelia,” memories of his wife ricocheted in his brain as he was heading for the bus stage. It was long time he had seen her. She stopped visiting him some two years past. Marion knew Cecilia was not expecting him. His sentence had been waved off as a result of Independence Day celebrations.

“Celebrate Cecilia. Celebrate my sweet. The hour of happiness has come,” he was saying to himself as he was jumping across the road.

Khrrrrrr! A vehicle screeched to a stop. He was nearly bumped. Marion felt like being awaken from a long sleep. As he was lost in the thoughts of beloved Cecilia he did not take notice of the advancing vehicle.

“Sorry man, sorry,” he apologized.
“Mufatu inu,” the car driver angrily yelled as he sped away.

Being in prison had taught him several things: love is precious. That which free people take for granted is the most craved for feeling in prison. He was free at last to meet his Cecelia, to feel the warmth of the bosom of a woman, to be held and kissed like a baby. His eyes had witnessed tragic moments of juveniles being sodomised by fearsome inmates, men making other men women. That was history and it would ever remain such.

Chikondi Malekano, his only daughter must have been knitting together some English expressions now, he thought. She was three when he was sent to jail. Chikondi would scream and yell dad! dad! dad! Marion wondered; would Chikondi recognize him? “Dad is back, Chikondi. Dad is back,” Marion said to himself.

He felt a tap on his shoulder then he shivered.

“Man, what’s wrong. You are talking alone. Are you ok?” It was another passenger in the minibus talking to him. Some passengers in front twisted their necks to look at him. He looked down and did not respond. Was he in a prison attire to attract the sea of eyes of people? He wondered. No, he was not, he answered himself. His clothes were not even dirty; he was clad in the same dark blue suit, grey shirt and black tie that he had worn on the day he was convicted.
His mind was hurrying back home with many expectations. His businesses must have prospered. Probably Cecelia had chased the houseboy. Probably the houseboy wanted to capitalize on his imprisonment to make romantic advances towards his wife.

“Cecelia is a strong willed woman. It’s till death do us part,” his mind spoke as he gazed at the matrimonial ring brightening on his finger.

He smiled as he recalled the many stories of male advances towards his wife that she told him during the first two years she visited him at Chichiri prison. It was heart breaking to note that even his very close friends were at the forefront enticing his wife for nights out.

“Marion my husband,” Cecilia shed tears one afternoon in the visiting room at the prison. “I can never let any man touch me, eight years is not forever.”

The minibus stopped. At last a vehicle journey was over. He just had to walk half a kilometer to his house. At a distance he could see the long and high wall of his house greeting him. There Cecelia was. He would ask him why she not visited him the past three years. Had his parents banned her from paying him visits? Had they grasped his property and chased her away?
Marion shook his hands as he neared the gate of his house. A stout guard in bushy beard greeted him when he knocked the door.

“Open man, open,” he shouted as the guard was blocking him. “Abwana has come.”

The guard tightened his grip on his baton stick. “I am sorry I don’t know you.”
Marion lost his cool: “Adona knows me.”

The guard closed the gate. In a moment a fat woman, hilly-hipped appeared at the gate. She was not Cecilia. She could not have gone hilly-buttocked like this in only two years. This lady eyed him with envy.

“Are you a visitor,” Marion asked the woman.

The woman did not answer. She just banged the gate close then on top of her voice ordered the guard not to open the door for the mad man standing at the gate.

Marion leaned at the door, eyes reddening. “Mr. Guard, I am sorry. But this house used to be Mr. Malekano’s house.”

“Oh, yes,” the guard stood close to him. “You are right. Mrs. Malekano sold this house. She stays with her husband in a new house they have just built somewhere down there?”

Marion followed the map he had been given by the guard. Cecelia could not have another husband apart from him. He knocked, slid the gate open then entered. His eyes crashed with those of Cecilia carrying a baby in the hands, Makiyolobasi the guard then, his hand encircling her shoulders. Marion stood still. Cecelia nearly lost breathe. Makiyolobasi rushed back into the house.

“Is this what I have to pay for love,” Marion was down and in tears.
Cecelia shivered. “I am sorry, let me explain….”
“Explain that I was wrong to report to the police that I was the one who had knocked down a pedestrian crossing a zebra crossing while it was you who was driving…”
Cecilia left the baby down and rushed towards Marion, holding him tight.
“I have been guilty of loving you. Guilty of sacrificing myself to serve a jail term for reckless driving on your behalf…”

Marion pulled himself out of the gripping embrace of Cecelia. He walked towards the gate. Cecelia grabbed him by the shirt. He pushed away Cecilia’s hand then opened the gate, Cecilia followed him.

Living the Chilembwe insipiration

2010-01-26T06:00:00.000-08:00

A faculty member of Harvard and MIT who directs the program on intrastate Conflict and Conflict Resolution with the Kennedy School of Government who is also president of the World Peace Foundation Robert I Rortberg states that soon Reverend John Chilembwe returned to Nyasaland from the United States of America he established a chain of independent African schools, constructed an impressive church, and planted crops of cotton, tea and coffee. His main motive was instilling a sense of self-respect among his fellow Africans.

Close to a century later after the demise of Chilembwe the hero, the pride of Malawi, we look to him as an inspiring factor in the realization of political and economic emancipation. The big picture is; has the nation attained the self-respect that Chilembwe inspired us to attain. In some perspectives, yes we have. On the other side we are still struggling to live the Chilembwe dream.
At present, the Malawi nation is yet to reach the desired heights of embracing the spirit of nationalism and brotherhood. We are yet to devise a collective strategy that will fish out millions of the starving citizens of Malawi from the excruciating pangs of poverty. We are still ranked one of the poorest countries in the world, and while in such a state, our country boosts of an elite that has fortunes worth billions of kwachas while millions more deserving civilians of the country live below the poverty line. We are yet to provide the majority of the masses of Malawians dignity and self-respect through equitable distribution of the little wealth of the country.

The life of Reverend John Chilembwe inspires the citizens of the country to take a leading role in demanding what belongs to them. Chilembwe gives us an inspiring example when he challenged the British government at the moment it was recruiting the natives of Nyasaland to fight the Germans in Tanzania during the First World War. Chilembwe asked: ‘We understand that we have been asked to shed our innocent blood in this world’s war…but would there be any good prospects for the natives after the war?

As we enjoy the present freedom which was spearheaded by Reverend Chilembwe’s uprising, more so now in this democratic dispensation, we are inspired by Chilembwe to question our elected representatives and demand accountability regarding policies, laws, and decisions they make on our behalf. Chilembwe inspires us to take ownership in monitoring the way economy of the country is distributed, rural empowerment programmes are fostered and poverty eradication processes are implemented.

It is certain that Chilembwe led an agricultural revolution for the country. Through the encouragement of natives planting cash crops, he was setting the base for an agricultural based economic-led economy. This inspires the nation to go an extra mile. Many centuries now we are still trapped in the non-lucrative trading of primary products than value added goods. We still rely on the growth of an economy based on raw tobacco than processed one. As we are reaping economic benefits out of the input fertilizer subsidy philosophy and the much promising green belt initiative, it is time that we diversify our agricultural practices. We can only benefit if we industrialize and shift from the rain-fed agricultural methods to irrigation systems, and in the end, selling products that have been added value to.

One thing is noticeable in the Chilembwe philosophy: the leadership system. The goverance that Reverend Chilembwe initiated entails that quality leadership enhances productivity, economic, and moral growth in a country. For us to make remarkable strides in transforming our country with the little resources we have we need quality leadership at all levels of our society.

We are ably reminded by one of Malawi’s finest philosopher Dr. Paul A. Mwaipaya in the book: the importance of quality leadership in national development, with special reference to Africa, that the significance of quality leadership is that it engages in rational and objective thinking and tries to make policies that are not far removed from the reality of human nature. Quality leadership is consistent in its deliberations as opposed to mediocre leadership which acts either without following any kind of objective manner of reasoning or simply follows the dictates of feelings, passions, sentiments, or special vested interests.

By spearheading the establishment of independent African schools Chilembwe inspires us to devise an educational system that would be responsive to the needs of the country in terms of social and economic development goals. This challenges the government in power at present and any governments to come in future to prioritize the provision of education that will be answerable to the needs of the development agenda of the country. Not only that, the nation at present is challenged to provide tertiary education to its masses, hence the contentious debate of quota system. The bottom line is that our universities do not have the capacity to absolve a good percentage of many deserving students who could excel to become leaders in different sectors in the country.

We can as well go ahead to argue that the principles of governance that were being followed by the British during the colonial days were the ones that enforced Chilembwe to rebel against such a system. This therefore inspires us to jealously safeguard principles of good governance. We can hardly celebrate the Chilembwe day with great happiness if governance is not human centred. Adebayo Adedeji in the article: The case for remarking Africa that is published in the book Action in Africa stresses that no one in Africa, not even former and contemporary despots, doubts that governance is the very foundation of civilized society and that neither social and economic progress nor political stability and national cohesiveness and unity are possible unless and until good governance is in place. Good governance should by definition be human-centred, guaranteeing civil and political rights on the one hand and social and economic rights on the other hand.

May this year’s commemoration of Chilembwe day be a constant reminder to the nation of Malawi that the success of a country goes beyond political liberation. We achieved a political mileage through breaking the federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland. We further went ahead to successfully abolish the one-party system of governance that ushered us into this democratic dispensation. Certainly, that achievement in the political dimension could please Reverend Chilembwe.

We are however yet to attain self-respect for each and every Malawian citizen through economic liberation. We are yet to go beyond the text book economics that looks at economic terminologies and percentages than addressing the economic thorns hurting the people of our country. It is not calculations of inflation rates that matter to the common man who lives below the poverty line; it is the implementation of program and projects that can transform his or her life from the traps of poverty. Georges Nzongola-Ntalaja reminds us that democracy is meaningless without economic and social rights. It means nothing to people who cannot eat properly, have a roof over their heads, find a job, send their children to school, and have access to a minimum of decent health care.

At last, we can say that Chilembwe inspires us to make any meaningful sacrifice possible to make Malawi a better country for its people. This is where all professionals in the country and diaspora have to take a collective action in devising and implementing economic strategies that will lead to economic emancipation of our beloved motherland: Malawi.

Chinsinsi chakulemera

2010-01-26T05:59:00.000-08:00

We all admire rich people and sometimes we end up shaking our heads questioning ourselves: what is it that makes them rich? What is the secret of their success? Are riches out of magic or out of miracles? Make a date with Chinsinsi cha kulemera, an inspirational book by Pastor Harry Molande, you will easily find a formula for wealth creation.

Make no mistake to underestimate the wealth of knowledge in the book by looking at its size. It is just 11 pages long but the content is immesurable. It is those eleven pages that have the power to turn the economic pages of your life. The book is the silent formula to riches.

The first chapter gives you an inspiring outlook: Malawi is a blessed and rich country. It seems it is a complementation of the belief that Malawi is not a poor country only that the people of Malawi are poor but with potential to become rich.

Have you ever wondered why so many people in Malawi are trapped in the meshes of poverty? Chinsinsi cha kulemenra has the answer. Pastor Molande enlightens: anthu ambiri tikusauka chifukwa cha ulesi, nsanje, kusazindikira, mantha ndi kusowa chikhulupiriro choti tingayambe ntchito, kapena bizinesi.

By the time you will have finished reading the book you will have been armed with critical business analysis skills, ways of carrying out businesses, investments and the culture of saving, capital generation and the impact of HIV/AIDS on business development.

A wonderful writing skill that will mesmerize you in the book is the element of adding a short but eye catching punch line in bold letters at the end of eech topic or ideas. The punch lines are clear reminders to readers of actions to take on the path to the economic paradise. Some of the exciting punch words include: tisachite bizinesi zoletsedwa – tizamangidwa, anthu ambiri amadziwa kusamala ufa osati ndalama, among many others.

It is justifiable to say that this little book takes time to flex its muscles on issues bordering marketing, trade regulations and taxation, and developmental economics. It brings before you recommended characters to necessitate you become a successful business person, issues surrounding business licences and remitting of taxes to appropriate authorities, and money management skills. Money markets have also been covered in passing.

This book tells you one thing – yes, you can. You can become rich if only you have the determination and desire to be so. The book even points out some role models you can emulate. Some of the mentioned include: Her Honour Mrs. Joyce Banda, Vice President of the Republic of Malawi and owner of Joyce Banda Foundation, one of the outstanding private school in the country; business magnate Leston Mulli of Mulli Brothers, one of the leaders in the produce market in the country; celebrity musician Lucius Banda of the successful Zembani Band; Mike Mulombwa of Country Wide Car Hire; Mike Chilewe of Mike’s Trading Center and General Dealers; and Phekani of Chitawira Shopping Center among many others.

It is worthy pointing out that though the book gives examples of successful business persons owning huge businesses, the book also tackles some small businesses like kugulitsa thobwa, kuphika zitumbuwa and many others. The government should consider incorporating the book in the adult literacy curriculum as it will offer the adult learners entrepreneurial skills.

You will wage a gallant fight against excruciating poverty by possessing this book. As it is in Chichewa it certainly means that the rural masses with little education can easily understand the content. The rural masses have a simple formula for economic empowerment through this book.
You will even like the ending of the story as it lists several inspirational books you can read to further your knowledge, notable among them: Think and grow rich, master key to riches, tycoon, and millionaire mind.

Chinsinsi cha kulemera is available in CLAIM Mabuku bookshops and MANENO bookshops. This formula to riches was published by God’s Love Ministries.

Poems from the warm heart

2010-01-26T05:57:00.000-08:00

There is something so significant with poetry. Great poets say that poetry serve as an invitation to celebrate language, enhancing and enriching our appreciation for the power of words to capture the essence of things. Poetry is a wonderful conveyer of emotions, extending and intensifying everyday experiences. Get hold of Poems from the Warm Heart, an anthology of poetry authored by Mike Zulu, Chimwemwe Kamanga and Marisen Mwale then you will have embarked on an adventurous poetical journey.

Divided into six thematic areas, poems from the warm heart is there to touch your heart, titillate your senses, and heighten your awareness on a diverse range of issues taking place in the universe. By the moment you complete the adventurous journey in the book you will have come across a wide array of poetry spanning the following areas: social perception and justice, love and romance, suffering and lamentation, life experiences, culture, politics and nature.

The best barometer for measuring the poetical mastery in the anthology is through the writing skills incorporated. Poems in the anthology encompass admirable poetical skills ranging from rhythm to rhyme, alliteration to assonance, onomatopoeia to repetition, imagery to figurative language, and finally emotional force.

Marisen Mwale combines rhythm, rhyme and alliteration in the poem: Life, oh, futile life! The second stanza goes: then do we discern, the ill-conceived fruits of destiny/are but malignant mandibles of disguised strife/when the once esteemed beam of light/forever becomes a pall of eternal night/ and abruptly all dreams drift from dumbfounded mind/then do we comprehend how like chasing the wind/ the ill-conceived fruits of destiny are/ how vain full of bizarre palpitations of the heart.

Some poems in the anthology flow with the semblance of the metaphysical poems of 17th and 18th century grand poets such as John Keats, Alfred Lord Tennyson and Andrew Marvel. Reciting Love Dream by Mike Zulu and To my love a dedication by Marisen Mwale, one recalls Andrew Marvel’s famous poem: To his coy mistress. Of course the flow and the choice of the words differ but the angle addressed seems similar. Others have the nostalgic touch like those of leopard Senghor. There is also a revolution angle in some pieces, probably weaved in the poetical touch of Africa’s great like David Rubadiri, Niyi Osundare, Cyril Cheney-Cooker and Dennis Brutus.

As the poems flow with an admirable range of poetical elements, one also notes that the poems have been written in different types of poetry. In the anthology are narrative poems, lyrical poems, limericks, free verse and choral poetry. While Poems from the warm heart express feelings, so too does it also weave into the labyrinths of soul searching. Some poems question: why is sin a sin? Why do we always ask what is wrong with others than what is right with them? The soul search goes deeper into the illusions of democracy. Change, yes, things have changed. But the other changes are detrimental. Cited in one of the poems include: the kwacha growing inflationary wings, girls auctioning their bodies through prostitution, trees looting for charcoal, orphan care becoming a booming business, and coffins selling like hot cakes.

This anthology is a wonderful master piece of poetry suitable for use in schools and colleges where poetry is taught. Of course the quality of the paper used is thin hence the pages can be easily torn and this is where the book requires proper handling.

Authors of the anthology are lectures at Mzuzu University. The anthology was edited by Professor David Rubadiri and published by Malawi Writers Union (MAWU)

Winning stories

2010-01-26T05:56:00.001-08:00

The life of a girl child in Africa in general and Malawi in particular is always at a crossroad. In as much as she aspires to rise to stardom through education so too is she pulled back by social customs. The society expects her just to get married and give her husband children. In other cultures, she faces the risk of forced marriage and the danger to acquire HIV through dangerous practices like fisi. But who can explain much better those circumstances than the girl child herself. At last, a collection of winning stories from the 2008 Malawian Girls’ Literary Competition tears off the curtain of silence and exposes to the public the dilemma many a girl-child faces.

Winning stories is an anthology that comprises of Chichewa and English award winning stories in the competition that was organised by Malawi Writers Union (MAWU) and Stephanie Bosch. Going through the stories you will notice a common theme: the girl child can rise to any highest peak in the professional world. Much of the stories in the book portray the girl child surviving unpleasant circumstances to become a medical doctor, lawyer, accountant, and community developer.

One noticeable trend in the book is that it brings to light the aspiration of girls in their lives, the social-ills that need to be abolished to necessitate them attain their dreams, the need to wage a fierce war against property grabbing, and more greatly, the need to treat orphans with a human face.

The anthology Winning Stories carries the following beautiful pieces of literature: Pamela Mithi’s Nambewe the heroine, Clara Chikuni’s Ndaziona mwana wamasiye, Tiseke Chilima’s Be careful what you wish for, Nthambi Chikuse’s Zomwe Chisomo adawona, Grace Bandawe’s The rising sun, Khama Khomba’s The song of life, Prisca Ngoma’s The absurd teacher, Linda Mulera’s Mwana wotayidwa mchimbudzi and Yewo Benadette Kajawo’s Peace at last.

These wonderfully crafted stories are more of free lessons. For instance the story Ndaziona mwana wamasiye ends: Kwa olera ana amasiye, ‘mwana wamzako ndi wako yemwe, ukachenjera manja udya naye.’

Male teachers who capitalize on their profession to sexually abuse the girl child will find a rude awakening in Prisca Ngoma’s The absurd teacher. The story can be said to be a girl-child’s fight for respect, dignity and justice. It exposes how a male teacher who is bent at proposing love to school girls can frustrate the education ambitions of a girl who has denied his sexual advances. In this story the girl goes as far as taking the issue to the court of law.

Another exciting perspective that the winning stories expose is that young Malawian ladies have an admirable and immense talent in creative writing. The structure of the stories, styles and angles of writing used, exploration of theme lines, all manifest the literary potential that girls have in the country. Reading the stories, you will certainly be amazed to note that the stories were authored by secondary school students.

Of course one can easily notice that some expressions used in some of the English short stories might have been copied from some great literary works. However, writing being a learning process and these authors being at infant stages in their creative world, they were likely to face the trap of coping some jargons and clichés.

Winning stories is a beautiful feminine voice that can make a good resource for teaching creative writing. It can also be a good reference point at writing workshops. As for males, the anthology opens their eyes to the world of the girl-child – her dreams and aspirations.

Winning stories

2010-01-26T05:56:00.000-08:00

Tinkanena 2

2010-01-26T05:54:00.000-08:00

Have you ever wondered the trauma, disillusionment, ridicule that a childless family experiences? Watch Tinkanena 2, a Zacharia and Mwambo Arts Theatre production to have an insight into this incredible experience.

You have watched and respected the Hollywood and Nollywood stars. Having watched Tinkanena 2 you will be assured that the movie industry in Malawi is geared to make its presence felt on the screen. Tinkanena 2 is a love story that brings with it passion, expresses greedy, puts infidelity to shame, and further explores the diversity of our cultural values and traditions in relation to marital issues.

Starring Frank Yalu, Jacobs Mwase, Dayson Gonthi, Loyce Nkhoma, Alice Kamanga Mwase, Taona Zimba, Tame Muwawa, Gradys Chimbaka, Henry Ntalika and Anita Mataya, Tinkanena 2 is an exciting comedy full of joys and tears, broken heartedness and reconciliation, gender based violence and the law.

When Nginde, played by Frank Yalu, lived for years with no child in his family, the family nearly crumbles. The wife, to gather the breaking pieces of love as Nginde goes on an infidelity spree, seeks the intervention of a witchdoctor, Zacharia (played by Jacobs Mwase). But the woman had to make an unimaginable sacrifice: sleeping with the witchdoctor right on the spot as a remedy to enable the spirits open her womb to have a child with her husband. Just as the woman was undressing, Nginde arrives on the scene then hell breaks loose.

Written by Frank Yalu and directed by Jacobs Mwase, the film takes you to locations in Ndirance, Zomba and Chiradzulu. This comedy takes with it a semblance of reality. You would appreciate the costume as it reflects situations and lifestyles.

When you are watching this film, make sure you have the courage to control your laughter. All the scenes in the movie have one or two scopes to keep your jaws wide open with laughter. Imagine watching the greedy Zacharia chasing his children away having asked him for tea. He then asks his wife to place hot water for him in the bathroom to take a bath. You actually see Zacharia undressing, and then, fishing ndazi, sugar and an empty cup from the trouser pocket. He then scoops water from the bathing basin, prepares his hot solution and starts enjoying his cup of tea. Just in a moment his wife arrives on the door step to live a tablet of soap; unbelievable.

Just as the actors in Tinkanena 2 are at their best, so too one has to appreciate the immense talent incorporated by the behind the scenes crew. The synchronization of some scenes with some traditional songs in the background gives the film a local Malawian touch and further enhances the values of the typical African traditions in human lives. You will further appreciate the cultural diversity in Tinkanena 2 as the comedy brings in several language flavours such as Tumbuka and Yao on top of the film’s main language, Chichewa.

Gluing your eyes to the exciting laughter-striking Tinkanena 2 you will pose some silent questions? Is a woman whose bride price had been paid for a slave? Is the youth a lost generation that prides itself in indulging in sexual promiscuity despite the fearsome threat of the HIV/AIDS scourge? Is a married woman a punching bag with no voice?

Tinkanena 2 was produced by Production Kings Studios and is available at Hair Care Centre in Blantyre and at Liwonde Trading Centre. The DVD is also sold through door to door. At present, door to door selling takes place in Blantyre and Zomba. An original copy of the DVD costs K1, 500.00

Dribbling poverty the agricultural way

2009-11-30T23:55:00.001-08:00

Agriculture is the main backbone of the Malawi economy. It is improvements in agriculture that make the yard stick for measuring the prevalence of poverty among the people of Malawi. Strides taken in agricultural revolution in the country over the past four years have put the country on the path of attaining the Millennium Development Goals pertaining to the reduction of poverty. According to the government of Malawi 2008 MDG report, poverty levels declined sharply from 52.4 in 2005 to 40 percent in 2007 on account of improved food security situation largely due to the input subsidy programme and favorable weather conditions that have contributed to the bumper crop harvest in the last four years. It is said that at this rate of improvement, poverty levels would be expected to decline to 27 percent by 2015 thus reaching the MDG target on poverty reduction.
The hoe has the power to pay back the master. It is only that the hoe can only pay back depending on the way the master uses it. China’s economic transformation which is called an economic miracle was mainly as a result of effective use of the hoe. The rapid growth made in several sectors in china was led by agricultural reforms. We are on a good footing in agricultural dimension. The thing that matters at present is to move beyond the current level of farming. We need to intensify intensive farming and diversify the range of products we farm. It is intensive farming that makes China one of the world’s largest producers and consumers of agricultural products. Intensive farming has seen China becoming the world’s largest producer of rice and a principal source of wheat, corn (maize), tobacco, soya beans, peanuts, cotton, potatoes, sorghum, tea, millet, barley, oilseed, pork and fish. Actually, China’s cropland area is only 75 percent of the United States total but produces about 30 percent more crops and livestock than the United States. In accordance with the United Nations World Food Program, in 2003 China fed 20 percent of the world’s population with only 7 percent of the world’s arable land.
It is worth noting that all the progress China has been making in agriculture has not largely been due to improvements in agricultural technology. China has still a relatively lack of agricultural machinery, particularly advanced machinery. For the most part, the Chinese peasant or farmer depends on simple, non-mechanized farming implements just as Malawi farmers do. Our advancement in agricultural revolution in the fight against poverty should model on the China success story. We cannot achieve a lot if we keep on heavily depending on 1 hectare fields. What we need are large farms that can produce hundreds of metric tonnes of products for consumption and exports.
It is high time that our agriculture goes beyond maize and tobacco. How about investing in communal forests? As the demand for energy intensifies and our hills are going bare, the forestry sector becomes of one of the lucrative business initiatives to undertake. There will always be increasing demand for timber as the construction industry keeps on booming. Forests can be an agricultural dimension worthy exploring. Until when shall we keep on relying on Chikangawa forest for timber? Actually, the timber industry is an economic lifeline for some economies. For instance, it is expected that the timber industry would be accounting for 25 percent of the GDP of Liberia. The timber and wood market is worth exploring in the agricultural sector.
Another agricultural sector that the country needs to diversify into is the flowers industry. The flower industry is the economic miracle of East Africa’s giant economy, Kenya. Kenya is the number one supply of ornamental flowers to the European Union, with a market share of more than 35 percent. In 2008, the Kenya flower industry exported 91,000 tonnes of flowers which earned the country US$ 504.4 million, that is 40 billion Kenyan shillings. Malawi has vast quantities of land and favorable climate that can see an economic miracle arising out of the flower industry. It is an industry that should not be underrated. In Kenya, the flowers industry employs more than 100,000 people, that’s making a positive impact in mitigating rising unemployment rates and the adverse impact of poverty.
Amazing so it is that despite having vast quantities of water in Lake Malawi, the water flows all the way to Zambezi through Shire River unutilized in agricultural sector. Lake Malawi is the best source for agricultural revolution. Lake Malawi has the capacity to sustain irrigation all year long thus making it possible for our agricultural season to be three dimensional. Planting of crops could no longer be once a year. Planting could be all year rounder. A resource being underutilized. Probably the Greenbelt initiative will offer a learning opportunity for us to realize the wealth that we had had but unable to utilize. Israel irrigates almost its entire cotton crop of 28, 570 hectares. The water encyclopedia reports that 40 percent of all crops grown in the world today are grown using irrigation. This is the best time to examine what percentage of our agricultural productivity is as a result of irrigation.
To really maximize our earnings from our agricultural productivity and contribute effectively in the fight against poverty, we really have to add value to our agricultural products. As long as we remain perennial exporters of raw materials, we will ever end up at the receiving end of peanuts. Our sweat would never be adequately compensated. Instead of exporting pepper to Arabic countries, why can’t we be processing the pepper, package it nicely and sell it at high value. Isn’t it amazing that we import tomato sauce when farmers in Ntcheu and Dedza produce vast quantities of tomato that can be added value to and exported?
Our agriculture has many missed opportunities. Probably it is high time that the financial services sector consider funding agricultural initiatives that have a seemingly profitable outlook. By and large, our inability to utilize our land could end up pushing us on the cross of jealousy when large scale Chinese investors in agriculture take up vast quantities of land for agricultural produce. But they will be planting the very crops that we the indigenous usually plant. It only takes the transformation of ideas into practice.
While as a nation we embark on diversifying our crops range, the need for updated information on agricultural markets throughout the world need to be made available. Probably we are unable to diversify into other crops as a result of inavailability of information pertaining to viable markets for the products we could diversity in. Do our agricultural offices in all the districts in the country have appropriate information on markets for agricultural commodities? Do we have agricultural information centres? We lag behind because we do not have information that can make us progress. We lag bed=hind because we underrate the value of agricultural information. As market trends in the world are changing so too should the Malawi farmer be updated on the changes in order to make appropriate information that can further revolutinise our agriculture.

A Guide to writers and publishers contracts

2009-11-30T23:53:00.002-08:00

How do you strike a deal with publishers to have your manuscript published? What are your inalienable rights as an author of a published work? What procedures can you follow to reap from your literary sweat? Scratch not your head laboring to get answers to these mind-boggling questions; you have a timely intervention in Sambalikagwa Mvona’s ‘A guide to writers’ and artists’ contracts.’
The 80-page book which can as well be described as the writers’ bible tackles a wide range of issues that writers have to come to terms with. It can be argued that it is a red card to the exploitation of writers. As the Malawi Writers Union (MAWU) president writes in the foreword of the book: ‘it is common knowledge that publishers, being businessmen are there to make money and increase their enterprises. If writers do not know and exercise their new rights and, therefore, do not promote their own interests they only have themselves to blame.’
Flipping through the book gives you an edge to have an insight into the century old history of writing in Malawi, general guidelines for publishing contracts, rights of the author, a brief history of royalties, Copyright Society of Malawi (COSOMA), and the role that the Malawi National Library Service plays in promoting the writing and reading culture in the country.
The issue that dominates most is publishing contracts. The book carries with it examples of contracts, among them: a normal Malawian contract, a contract in Finland, standard contract for non-fiction literature between the Norwegian Publishers’ Association and the Norwegian Association of Non-Fiction Writers and Translators, so too a memorandum of agreement for a commissioned contract in Malawi.
The author of the guide is well aware that writing has gone electronic as well as more authors are resorting to publishing online. This writers and artists guide also gives an example of a contract governing an electronic book.
By the time you will have finished reading this guide you will have been conversant with general publishing contract guidelines on illustrations and quotations; infringement of existing copyright, libel, and censorship laws; obligation to publish, advance payment and royalties; choice of law among many others.
One admirable element in the book is that it does not leave a reader in the vacuum regarding which institutions to contact. The last four pages of the book have contact addresses of vital stakeholders in the arts, communication and book industry. Some of the noticeable addresses include those of Ministry of Tourism, Wildlife and Culture; Department of Arts and Craft; Malawi Writers Union; National Archives; Musicians Association of Malawi; National Theatre Association of Malawi among many others.
Pertaining to the coverage of the Malawi National library Service which the author calls a writer’s nest, Mvona looks at one of the crucial contributions of libraries worldwide as to uplift a country’s writing and reading culture. He then questions if the Malawi National library service has achieved that goal since independence from colonial masters. It is well expounded in the book that through its Children books in the Werengani series the Malawi National library service has made remarkable strides in promoting a writing and reading culture.
A guide to writers’ and artists’ contracts is a silent constitution for writers and deserves to be on bookshelves of serious writers. Of course one can argue that in line with the title of the book, the book has only addressed interest of writers thus negating other artists like musicians, fine artists, photographers, sculptors and many others. Of course taking into account that the author is in the first instance a published writer therefore much of his knowledge would be in his field. However, that being said, the guide is as well meant for writers and artists combined.
The author, Sambalikagwa Mvona is a renowned creative writer with a string of books to his name , some of them: The blind search, The trap, the sun at Njuli, Modern stories from Malawi and The special document. He is the current president for the Malawi Writers Union.

Sins of our fathers

2009-11-30T23:53:00.001-08:00

There are several customs and traditions that have been perpetrating male chauvinism, spreading HIV/AIDS and even degrading the status of women in the society. One exciting piece of fiction, Sins of our fathers by Chikumbutso Ndaferankhande takes an intrinsic look into such traditions and their impact on the girl child.
Sins of our fathers is a short story centering at the life of a fourteen-year old Tania who was married off to Gwamu – an old man and a maize trader – to offset maize loan that her parents secured from Gwamu seven years past. Tania had to endure the most excruciating inhuman conditions in the house of Gwamu until the moment she hit back Gwamu with Nthiko and he fainted. Tania fled away until she fainted on the banks of a river and was being prosecuted for causing gravious bodily harm.
Remarkable traits of creative writing skills are showcased in the story through the way in which the author explores the social customs and beliefs. The traditional belief that investing in the education of a girl child was a waste of resources is evident through the voice of Tania’s father: “Paying for a girl’s secondary education is a waste, something I can’t be foolish to do. For whose benefit? If anything it will be her husband who will enjoy the effort. Provided she knows how to read and write, that’s enough.”
Going through the story one learns that some traditions are perpetrated by poverty. The root cause of the trading off of Tania was that the family had had bad harvest, ADMARC had had no grain reserves, the government was reported to have sold the previous harvest to neighboring countries and people were starving to death. The only people to look to were the likes of Gwamu who were importing maize for sale. When Tania’s parent got the maize on credit they were optimistic that they would later sell cattle to offset the debt. Unfortunately, foot and mouth disease wiped away the cattle. The family had one choice, as Tania’s mother explains to her: “We marry you off to offset the debt. We cannot repay in any other way than this.”
Ndaferankhande goes on to artistically portray several traditional beliefs that wreck havoc in the lives of the girl-child. This is portrayed in Tania’s reflections: while in standard four, her classmate, Mwache who was only 12 was given off to a man three times her age as dowry. Then there was Lucia who had been offered to a widower as a consolation following her sister’s death, a tradition so called kupyanikisya or chimetamasisi. Lucia eventually run away from the village and turned into prostitution to make ends meet.
An exciting element worthy noting in the story is that it tests the application of the law. Was Tania to be jailed for avenging her wrath on a man who had turned her into a punch bag every night? Was the law to only look at her wounding her forced husband regardless of circumstances surrounding the causative factors? Of course, in the end the magistrate ruled that Tania had to be free and taken off from Gwamu and that her parents had to ensure that she further her education.
Certainly, the flow of language and the expressions given in the story will leave you with no seeds of doubt as to why the story scooped the first prize in the 2008 First Merchant Bank/Malawi Writers Union Literary Awards. It is an excellent piece of literature that adds value to the element of research in creative writing. Sins of our fathers is published in an anthology entitled the Bachelor of Chikanda and other stories.

The Bachelor of Chikanda and other stories

2009-11-30T23:52:00.001-08:00

Creative writing in Malawi has had its ups and downs. At the moment the reading culture seem to be dying. But how can a reading culture be sustained when creative writing seem to be taking a nosedive as well? There has been an increased outcry that the quality of literary creative works being penned of late has been leaving a lot to be desired. But wait a moment, get hold of an anthology of Malawian short stories entitled: The bachelor of Chikanda and other stories, then you will appreciate that all is not lost.
This artistically written anthology brings before your table a 240-page literary dish containing 35 stories covering different aspects of social life: cultural trends, poverty, witchcraft among many others. It also recognizes the importance of managing transition in the creative world. While the anthology boasts of short stories by emerging writers on the Malawi scene like William Mpina, Ayami Mkwanda, Ndongolera Mwangopili, Kondwani Kamiyala among several others, it also showcases stories of long-time renowned writers such as Jonathan Tanthwe Mbuna, Sambalikagwa Mvona, Brian Ligomeka, Akwete Sande, Levi Zeleza Manda, Zondiwe Mbano, Jimmy Koreia-Mpatsa, Wisdon Dede Kamkondo and Benedicto Wokomaatani Malunga. This combination bridges the gap between the old and the new writers. It brings an opportunity to analyse how writing trends have been forging of late.
An exciting element embodied in almost all the stories carried in the book is how they maintain a drive in adhering to themes being addressed. Some stories are there to question the logic behind some behavior. Others pricks at the evil of some cultural practices when they are not appropriately followed.
An amazing element that attracts a reader is the variety of writing styles. The weaving of Ndaferankhande’s Sins of the fathers in the first person singular entices a reader to be part of the story, to be the main character, to think with the character, to mourn with her, and to get relief with her as well. The opening paragraph of Vincent Muwamba’s The Ants has the rousing appeal that ignite in a reader the desire to keep on: ‘The ants of Mdeka had no mouth to tell of their suffering under the divergent oppressive feet. Feet in slippers, Feet in three storey shoes. Bare feet. Feet! Feet! Feet!
The most common element which gives the stories a lively curiosity is the ending. Most stories have the suspense ending which gives a reader all the liberty to conclude the stories himself/herself.
As this anthology is also better suited for classrooms, it excites a lot to note that award winning stories for the 2008 First Merchant Bank/Malawi Writers Union have been incorporated in this anthology: Chikumbutso Ndaferankhande’s Sins of the fathers; Vincent Chiwamba’s The Ants; and Shadreck Chikoti’s The Baobab. The incorporation of these stories in the anthology provides budding writers a timely opportunity to learn tricks of authoring award winning stories.
This anthology is the best instrument for teaching creative writers. At the end of each short story are four of five questions pertaining to the story. Such simple exercise challenges a reader to measure one’s understanding on each story read.
The Bachelor of Chikanda and other stories could make a vital creative writing resource if it can find its way into school and public libraries.

The flower industry: the forgotten compenent in the tourism sector in Malawi

2009-11-30T23:50:00.000-08:00

Tourism is one of the fastest growing sectors in the world. More so now with the World Cup coming to Africa in 2021, many Sub Sahara African countries are repositioning their tourism sectors to maximize economic benefits from an avalanche of foreign visitors. It appears that little do we appreciate that flowers forma a recognizable and profitable part of the tourism industry. Flowers have the beauty that enhances the image of a country. Not only that they are a multi million dollar business that if properly enhanced have the capacity to induce a positive increment on the GDP realized in the tourism industry.

Just in between the Mibawa bus terminal and the highly polluted Mudi river, the flower industry is booming. Vendors have established flower nurseries and their clientele are people interested in having beautiful flower beds around their homes. At the time that the business dimension of the country is endeavoring to shift from an importing and consuming to a producing and exporting, it is imperative that any business initiative that has the potential to contribute towards the cause is supported to the fullest. The flower industry has the potential to make a remarkable impact on the inflation and the gross domestic product (GDP) of the country.

Despite the booming of the flower market on the international market in the recent years, the Malawi business sector is yet to break into such a market. The fall of the Lingadzi farms in early 2000 is an epitome of how the flower sector has failed to flourish. It was the closure of the farms that marked the erasing of Malawi flowers at the international market. At the time of its closure, as reported by the African Magazine of December 2000, Lingadzi was the country’s largest flower grower and exporter –exporting an average of 20 million stems of roses a year – with over 700 workers. The closure of the farm saw Malawi losing US$ 28 million in revenues.

Flowers have proved to be among the top forex earning products in some countries in Africa. In the year 2000, exports of flowers and foliage in Kenya contributed 5.8 percent of the total export earnings. According to the Kenya Flower Council, Kenya accounts for 60 percent of African cut-flower exports, in terms of value and is the world’s fourth largest exporter of cut-flower. At one point, the flower industry was poised to overtake tea and tourism in forex earnings. Susan Njanji in the article ‘Economy, climate, batter Kenya’s flower’ say that horticulture contributes about 23 percent of the GDP of Kenya and employs an estimated three million people. In the first three months of this year, the flower industry earned for Kenya US$ 13.68 million

Certainly, in Africa Kenya offers the best learning ground in the development of a vibrant and commercially viable flowers industry. Floyd Mann in the article: ‘Kenya – Globalizing with flowers’ writes that since the country’s independence in 1963, and especially in recent years, horticulture has emerged as one of Kenya’s great economic success stories. Flowers picked in the morning reach the markets in Amsterdam by evening. Horticulture is Kenya’s fastest growing sector and is ranked third after tourism and tea.

For a country that carries in its history the once success story of Lingadzi farms, it is essential to develop and implement deliberate policies that can spearhead the flower industry beyond the present small sector. Banks and other financial lending institutions so too the insurance sector can play progressive roles in supporting and sustaining the growth of the flowers industry. The revitalization of the flowers industry can broaden Malawi’s export base beyond the traditional tobacco, tea, coffee, cotton, among a few others.

Ethiopia has taken remarkable strides in enhancing its flower industry to complement the tourism sector. Ethiopia has been encouraging major flower farms in Kenya to establish flower farms in Ethiopia. Have major companies have actually made a switch into Ethiopia lured by ten-year tax break holidays, better security and little in the way of graft. Sher Agencies, a Dutch company whose 400-hectrate farm in Kenya produces 600 million roses a year, more than any other farm in the world, has opened a farm in Ethiopia.

A closer look at the five thematic areas articulated in the Malawi Growth Development Strategy (MGDS) is sustainable economic growth. The development of a vibrant flower industry is therefore an appropriate means to the realization of the said theme. The flower industry has the potential to enhance economic growth and wealth creation. Apparently, for our economy to make a significant impact in the reduction of poverty, our economy needs to have a strong growth of more than 6 percent.

What is lacking in the business industry apparently is the initiative to broaden the flowers industry beyond the behind mibawa bus terminal, invest in it and develop it on large scale. This is where the private sector has to take an upper hand. Flowers can do an economic miracle to our country as they are doing to the Kenya economy. The flower sector in Kenya offers employment to over 40,000 people. We can reduce the increasing unemployment rate by embracing the flower industry in the tourism sector.

Rethinking professionalism and national development

2009-11-30T23:48:00.000-08:00

Professionals form the formidable pillars of national development. Whenever a nation reaches some milestones in some areas, it certainly means that professionals specializing in such fields added value to their intellectual prowess. In other sense they put their intellectual resources into fruitful practical use.
Recently, Malawi has been reported to have slipped down on the Doing Business Index. This certainly puts a dent on the development agenda of this country. It is not that our economic policies are too archaic to go along with the pace of economic revolution. It is not even that we are advancing protectionism philosophy. What is pulling down the investment climate is the inability of key service providers, who are great yardsticks in business indexing, to improve service delivery in their capacities.
At present, electricity generation and distribution remains a challenge. Even the only small 11 percent of the population of Malawians cannot have access to electricity twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. How can this situation entice investors in perishable products?, If Kayerekera Uranium mining, probably Malawi’s money spinning project at the moment, decides to invest million of cash in generators on the pretext that ESCOM power is unreliable, what blow is our inefficient and inadequate power generation dealing to potential investors? If anything, power unreliability makes Malawi a costly country to invest into. Where are our distinguished engineers?
We are proud as a country to have educationists, renowned professors and doctors in education. As the population has been increasing over the years, certainly they should have been forecasting on its impact on the provision of tertiary education. Why is it that the intake of our universities has remained at a static level probably for the past thirty years? What strategies have our educationists been advancing to ensure that the country provides an easy access to tertiary education to its citizens to spearhead continued national development? At present, access to education at our universities is not a birthright but a priviledge. In the advent of technological advances, why can’t our universities go virtual? Advanced countries have gone ahead to offer degree and master degree courses online. Why can’t our esteemed educationists exploit such a route? We are training a few professionals indirectly proportional to the development agenda on the country.
In the interests of justice we rely on our learned colleagues in the law profession to offer us appropriate and unbiased guidance on the application of the law. The handling of disputes, civil or criminal, and the administration of justice has the potential to give people confidence in the law or to disillusion them. Some cases seem to be discharged at supersonic speed while other cases grow moulds in files with no hope of being addressed. In such a situation, what justice hope do our learned colleagues offer us? Many a times court rulings have been overturned by superior courts. What if in the first instance there was no appeal? It certainly means that there are people languishing in jails who could not have been had they appealed.
Of late companies have been folding down having been nursing losses consecutively. We question, where were the men and women of figures, the accountants? Where were the economic forecasters, economists? What strategic advises have they been offering to institute turn-around strategies. The value of their charteredness should have had a positive bearing if their academic prowess resuscitated the sinking ships.
Are our banks accessible to the common man? Are they the hub of economic development through provision of loans without infusing complex bureaucratic procedures that let people down? Are the interest rates being offered in line with inducing economic development at the household level? Probably our professional bankers need to streamline their strategies in the light of the economic development philosophy of the country.
Why is it that only a few Malawians have access to insurance policies? What is it that makes insurance policies not attractive to people? Our chartered insurers have the duty to go beyond the wording of the policies. They have to look at the practicalities of tailoring the policies with the economic interest of the people of this country.
Malawi is awash with professionals. Malawi can develop. The setback is that many professionals do not discharge their duties to the best of their intellectual capacities. We should run away from the temptation of writing high class proposals but unable to turn rhetoric into practical. Our professionalism can help the country if it moves away from the desks to the actual practical concepts.

CONSTRUCTION INDUSTRY AND NATIONAL DEVELOPMENT

2009-08-26T00:43:00.000-07:00

Behind the magnificent buildings that glitter our cities, the bridges that connect people from different sides, road networks that necessitate easy travel from one point to another, air terminals where planes land at, is the construction industry.

Behind the growth of infrastructural development that are improving the well-being of people through the provision of goods and services, silently hides the construction industry which can as well be termed as the backbone to national development. Infrastructure is indispensable to achieve the main development targets such as urbanization, industrialization, export promotion, equitable income distribution, and sustainable economic development. The construction industry, the main player in the infrastructure development, should as well be accredited with silently advancing national development agenda.

The construction industry has a remarkable impact on the GDP of a country, personal earnings and creation and sustaining of employees. The Associated General Contractors of America, projected that in 2009 in Maryland an additional of US$1 billion in nonresidential construction spending would add about US$2.2 billion to the state’s GDP, about US$660 million on personal earnings and create or sustain 17,000 jobs. The analysis on the jobs created was on the basis that 5,800 jobs would be direct construction jobs located within Maryland, 2,700 would be indirect jobs from supplying construction materials and services, and 8,500 jobs would be induced when workers and owners in construction and supplier businesses spend their incomes locally and nationwide.

It is obvious that construction industry is the pivotal element in infrastructure development. Byoungki Kim in the article ‘infrastructure development for the economic development in developing countries: lessons from Korea and Japan’ stresses that infrastructure development is one of the most integral parts of the public policies in developing countries. Good infrastructure such as road construction helps to lower productivity costs hence contributing to economic growth. The construction of relevant infrastructure like roads in rural areas has a considerable impact on national wealth distribution. In South Korea, extensive road networks in 1960s and 1970s led to rapid growth of vegetable production and other cash crops designed for the urban markets.

Numerous construction projects carried out in the country highlights the positive impact of the construction industry on socio-economic development. Roads that have been paved in rural areas linking them to cities have boosted trade in agricultural products as the cost of transportation of agricultural products has gone down.

The country is expected to benefit from probably one of Malawi’s mega-construction project: the Shire-Zambezi waterway. All benefits to be accrued out of the project will be as a result of construction activities carried out by the construction industry. The drenching of the waterway, the building of a port and an air strip are all expected to revolutionise business in Nsanje so too raise the socio-economic levels of the people surrounding the port in particular and nationwide in general.

In accordance with the project proposal for the Shire-Zambezi waterway, when the project is completed it will reduce costs of goods and services for landlocked countries like Malawi and Zambia by at least 60 percent of the current costs. This will certainly have a positive effect on the livelihoods of Malawians as the cost of living will likely go down. It is imperative however to note that underneath this wonderful dream has to be the construction industry.

Apparently as the government is geared to enhance rural development in its development agenda, the construction industry faces the daunting task to be part of the development philosophy. The construction industry has to ensure that it has the capacity to deliver development projects as per the needs of the government and in the time scale specified.

Many a development projects are in the pipeline, most notable, road projects, schools, police and teachers’ houses, boreholes, among many others. The construction industry would add value to the country’s development agenda through successfully undertaking the said projects. Certainly, the construction industry loses credibility, trust and reputation in the eyes of the publics if projects it undertakes do not live to the expectations of the people.

The government’s rural development project could further spur the growth of indigenous construction companies which will in the end trickle-down economic benefits to the country and the citizens. The mushrooming of indigenous construction firms with capacity to handle large scale jobs will save the country from losing forex as most projects will be handled locally, hence requiring no need for forex to pay international construction firm.

This could certainly write a new chapter in the history of the construction industry in the country. As the small construction firms will be developing they will certainly be competing for construction jobs in other countries within Africa and possibly beyond. This could make the construction industry a reliable partner in bringing into the country the required forex. The exposure of the construction industry abroad could as well play the ambassadorial role of marketing services that Malawi can offer in Africa and beyond. If one sector successfully storms the international market, other sectors stand an easy chance as they actually ride on the success of the pioneer service provider.

It is time that our construction industry becomes a force worthy reckoning on the international scale. We could learn from the Norwegian building and construction industry which has attracted international attention for its innovative design and exceptional products. Norwegian architects have won international acclaim for their modern approach to traditional materials such as wood, stone and metal. Norway has cutting-edge expertise in building large timber structures, tunnelling, and cavern excavation, as well as in road and bridge construction. Norwegian manufacturers export first-class timber and wood products like parquet flooring, prefabricated houses, and other building components worldwide. Glued, laminated timber (“glulam”) is a specially-developed, lightweight, and extremely strong product that has added a new dimension to the design of homes, large public and commercial buildings, and even bridges. The main terminal building at Oslo Gardermoen Airport is the largest laminated wood structure in the world. The Norwegian classic example is a precedent that our industry should set benchmarks on.
Meanwhile, as the economic development programme of the country has embraced Public private Partnerships, the construction industry could cement its backbone position in national development if it takes a crucial role in the provision of infrastructure that can support the initiative. As housing scarcity threatens our cities, the construction industry can, through Public Private Partnerships, construct houses. Not only that, the construction industry, by nature of its services, is well poised to take a leading role in some of the potential projects earmarked for Public Private Partnership agreements.
Apparently, the house construction boom provides investment opportunities in forestry and paper. As the online allafrica.com edition of 8 November 2008 reports Malawi's construction industry is experiencing a boom which has made investment in commercial forests a profitable venture. However, the report continues, current production levels don't meet demand in the local and foreign markets, hence the invitation to exploit commercial potential. It is noticeable therefore that the construction industry is giving rise to the growth of the timber industry hence providing a lucrative business and employment opportunity to many Malawians. This could further lead to a possibility of establishing private forests to satisfy the construction demand. Not only that, the construction industry has also been leading to tree seedling production becoming a vibrant economic activity practiced by both small and large scale entrepreneurs though at present the government is the largest buyer of seedlings.
In as much as we are proud that the construction and building industry has played a crucial part in the socio-economic development of the country, we can only hope that the industry will not be contented with its remarkable success but further polish some of its grey areas.

CONSTRUCTION AND CORRUPTION: AN UNHOLY ALLIANCE

2009-08-26T00:41:00.000-07:00

Construction is an integral part in the development of a country as it forms the mother component behind all activities bordering on infrastructure development. However, a worst evil that can wreck havoc in this extremely important sector is corruption and fraud that can lead to the erosion of ethics in the entire sector.

Of course corruption can be said to have infiltrated many developmental sectors but it is extremely important to note that the ravaging impact of corruption in the construction sector can be severe as it can deeply eat resources that could help develop programmes of significant national importance.

Speaking at a workshop on Project Anti-Corruption Systems held in Dar es Salaam in May 2007, Catherine Stansbury from the Transparency International of United Kingdom said that the construction sector was generally perceived as the most corrupt industry in the world.

Corruption has an edge to penetrate into the construction industry system as it can occur at any phase such as project identification, financing, designing, tendering and execution. This trend of corruption could involve project owners, funding agencies, consultants, contractors, sub-contractors, joint-venture partners and agents.

The worst thing is that the toleration of corrupt practices in the construction industry leads into misuse or poor use of public funds and infrastructure that is inadequate, defective, dangerous, and the chocking of the industry itself as the corrupt and incompetent practitioners prosper.

Corruption does not aid the development of the construction industry. If anything, corruption leads to the tarnishing of the image of this reputable industry and induce questionable perceptions in the minds of the people regarding the sectors’ contribution to national development. In the very end, the more corruption sieges the sector, the more competent and uncorrupt construction firms diminish as they are outmarketed by the most corrupt. This poses a danger in the sense that the corrupt firms dominating the sector end up undertaking projects that are hurriedly completed regardless of expected standards and the impact on the services to be provided.

The world has on several occasions experienced tragic events associated with corruption in the construction sector. The South Asia Investor Review of February 11, 2009 reports that on September 1, 2007 the newly constructed Sher Shah Bridge in Karachi, Pakistan, collapsed killing 14 people and injuring many others. The bridge had just been inaugurated less than a month before by the former president of Pakistan Pervez Musharaf. Shoddy construction and corruption were suspected but an investigation was yet to produce results.

The Investor Review further adds that earthquakes that hit China and Pakistan in the last few years have caused massive destruction. The fact that the damage was significantly disproportionate to government schools and other government buildings raised questions about shoddy construction by government contractors supervised by corrupt officials.

As the Transparency International explains, corruption on construction projects is damaging. It damages developed and developing countries resulting in projects which are unnecessary, unreliable, dangerous, and over-priced. This can lead to loss of life, poverty, economic damage and underdevelopment. The yet to be concluded education scam is a vivid examples of how a country retrogresses when construction projects are mingled with corruption. Up to now, many school blocks keep on existing on paper. Money that was meant to enhance educational development did not serve the intended purpose.

The scope of the damages of corruption in the construction industry stretches as far as companies. This results in tendering uncertainity, wasted tender expenses, increased project cost, economic damage, reduced project opportunities, extortion and blackmail, criminal prosecutions, fines, black listings, and reputational risk.

Of course corruption in the construction industry is a complex issue and difficult to root out easily. A research that was conducted in 2002 by the Chartered Institute of Building on corruption in the UK construction industry reveled that it is generally assumed that corruption occurs but the form and scale of corruption is by its nature difficult to establish. The research shown that many researchers had had direct experience of corruption. For example 41 percent had ever been offered a bribe on at least one occasion.

To really root out the malpractice this malpractice it is imperative that the construction industry adheres to a clear policy on corruption, ethics and transparency that recommends and supports the development and implementation of industry-wide anti-corruption mechanisms.

Strict adherence to ethical guidelines in the construction industry is the best means in the fight against corruption in this industry. As the National Construction Industry Council (NCIC) Code of Ethics for Contractors in the construction industry clarifies ‘Construction services have a direct and vital impact on the quality of life for all people. Accordingly, the services provided by Contractors require honesty, impartiality, fairness, and equity, and must be dedicated to the protection of the public health, safety, and welfare. Contractors must perform under a standard of behaviour that requires adherence to the highest principles of ethical conduct.’

But not only contractors should be expected to adhere to proper ethical codes. As the construction industry involves many players, it is also essential to ensure that consultants strictly adhere to a framework that standardizes their conduct. The NCIC Code of Ethics for consultants in the construction industry gives out fundamental principles that should govern consultants. The principles include: Hold paramount the safety, health, and welfare of the public; Perform services only in areas of their competence; Issue public statements only in an objective and truthful manner; Act for each employer or client as faithful agents or trustees; Avoid deceptive acts; Conduct themselves honorably, responsibly, ethically, and lawfully so as to enhance the honor, reputation, and usefulness of their profession.

The country can successfully wage a must-win war against corruption in the construction industry if the enforcement and monitoring of the industry stakeholders compliance to the stated ethical codes takes centre stage at the aggressive level. The inability to police the conduct of construction stakeholders in the light of the principle ethical guidelines codes breeds a fertile ground for corruption. The Anti Corruption Bureau should further take the initiative to sensitize contractors and the public masses on the repercussions of corruption in the construction industry on national development.

The Land

2009-08-26T00:40:00.000-07:00

A pen is mighty than the sword, so it is believed. Over the years, one art that has had the temerity to challenge swords has been poetry. The Poetry of South Africa’s Dennis Brutus did expose the inhuman acts of the apartheid regime. Nigeria is awash with poets fighting for liberation from economic and political exploitation: Niyi Osundare and Obiora Udechukwu are some notable examples. Malawi has its fare share in the hall of fame of poetry of protest through Jack Mapanje and Frank Chipasula. There is however a group of poets that can better be labeled ‘voices of protest’. Probably a leading figure in such a category would be Obiora Udechukwu of Nigeria.

Going through Udechukwu’s poem entitled: The Land, a reader gets a vivid image of the betrayed hopes of the people of Nigeria. Divided into ten parts, the poem is more of a lamentation of a common man who though lives in a country classified among the rich in Africa, he or she is lives a miserable life, unable to even access the basic necessities of life as the political elite takes all. The poem highlights the water scarcity as follows:

If thirst catches you in Uwani/ If thirst catches you Ogui/ I say/ If thirst catches you in Enugu/ There are many gutters for free/ Police will not arrest you.

The poem starts with a powerful introduction that entices a reader to read on. The distinguished professor, painter and poet internationally acclaimed for his visual arts poses questions in the opening two-line stanza: What is the hare saying to the fowl?/What is the owl singing to the moon?

An element that a reader might find intriguing and exciting in the poem is the lyrical style used and the irony in some of the sentences. For instance one stanza reads: We were once poor but rich/ We are now rich but poor. Another ironic adds reads: We were once naked but alive/ we are now clothed but a corpse.

The Land strictly challenges Nigerian politicians to move away from rhetoric politics riddled with empty promises. Udechukwu states in one stanza: Promises and three-piece suits/ Cannot climb palm trees/ Briefcases and files/ Cannot plant cassava/ Ora obodo, can one eat roast yam with petrol?

Dissilusionment in promises is clearly spelled out in a short stanza that reads: Promises are baskets of water/ Promises are words spoken to the wind.

Those who are fascinated with poetry for technical skills in poetic craft would certainly find ‘The land’ rich in that content. The poem weaves irony in an admirable fashion, deals with issues in the light of allegories, personifications, symbolism and other attributes of poetry.

Published in an anthology of poems, short stories and drama entitled: New Africa Voices, The Land gives an insight into the missing link in the development process of Nigeria: leaders with the vision and integrity to enable the country to fulfill its potential.

It might not be surprising that at the moment that Dr. Stewart Brown, editor of the anthology, was compiling the anthology Obiora Udechukwu and other academics at the University of Nsukka where he was a distinguished professor had been interned.

Obiora Udechukwu’s poetry offers new generations an opportunity to get in touch with the past, to learn the evils of dictatorship. Its lyrical style makes the poem recitable even using drums. The Land was written during the military regime in Nigeria. The author also boasts a collection of poems entitled: What the madman said, published by the Boomerang Press in Bayreuth in Germany in 1990.

Tekayo

2009-08-26T00:39:00.000-07:00

Fiction excites a lot when it does not only just entertain but teach as well. One excellent piece of fiction writing that portrays what havoc greed can cause in the life of a human is a short story entitled ‘Tekayo’ written by Grace Ogot of Kenya.

Set in Sudan, the story talks of a grandfather, Tekayo, who after tasting a delicious liver dropped by an eagle; he is filled with a craving which gradually leads to his moral disintegration. This is portrayed in how Tekayo progressively cuts himself off from his own nature, from his relations, community and work. In murdering children entrusted in his care all just in the hunt to roast their livers and in his eventual suicide, he effectively cuts himself off, in life, death and for all time, from the community.

One exciting element in the story is how the author consistently shows the reader how greed can transform the life of a human. In one paragraph Tekayo is seen storming the Ghost jungle all just to hunt for an animal with a liver as delicious as the one that fell from the claws of the eagle.

Tekayo’s changing life due to greed comes in the limelight when he, all over a sudden, started leaving home early, refusing even to take lunch with him to the field where he grazed cattle. He would just take with him his hunting spear.

The grand man’s greed was so deep rooted such that his dedication to grazing and milking the cows started wearing thin. The author paints a clear image as follows: ‘while previously Tekayo could patiently graze the cattle, his life had changed. He rushed the cow along, lashed at any cow that lingered in one spot for long. Reaching at the edge of the Ghost jungle he would live the cows grazing unattended as he went hunting.’

At one point in the book a reader comes across a scenario whereby the cows headed home alone as Tekayo was lost in the Ghost jungle hunting for animals with delicious livers. He even risked his life to eat livers of a lion, leopard, and hyena, all of which were tabooed by his clan. Yet, he never came across meat as delicious as the one that fell from the claws of an eagle.

One master piece of literary writing is showcased in the story through the author’s ability to tackle irony in an interesting manner. After Tekayo killed his second grand child, his sons wondered: which animal can it be that was terrorizing their village? One of Tekayo’s sons even suggested that his aged-father might be in danger from the ferocious unknown beast just as the two children had been. In the end, when Tekayo is found out to be the ferocious beast that was killing the children, he is treated like an animal he had become; he is locked in a windowless hut built for goats and sheep. Even his clansmen chanted: ‘he is not one of us. He is not one of us. He is an animal.’

Another literary art one comes across in the story is that as the story is set in a rural environment, the author brings to light the people’s traditional customs and beliefs. At supper time, male members of the Tekayo family would sit together and eat. And in observation of traditional beliefs they would throw some food on the ground before beginning to eat; thus sharing the food with ancestral spirits.

We further learn the mode of communicating sad news in this rural setting. When Tekayo was caught trying to murder his third grand child, a big fire was set on the compound and drums were beaten to notify villagers that sad news had occurred in the compound.

The traditional justice system and how punishment is meted out in respect of traditional beliefs and customs is well articulated in how Grace Ogot explains how the community would treat Tekayo the murderer. Ogot explains: ‘everyone on the clan must throw a stone at the murderer, for it was claimed that the murderer’s wicked spirit would rest upon a man who did not help to drive him away. Tekayo would be stoned to death outside the village.’

What the author does not tell in the story is why Tekayo could not kill any of the cows and roast its liver and claim that it had been attacked by wild animals? Perhaps since cows were domestic animals, he might have had tasted many of cow livers and were not as delicious as the liver that fell from the claws of the eagle.

The way the author concentrates on the single theme of greed throughout the story coupled with the writing style used well-versed in imagery and irony, makes the story an excellent piece of work for teaching short fiction writing. Students pursuing literature studies at the tertiary level can as well learn some writing tricks from the story. It is amazing that the story explains hunting tricks perfectly though authored by a lady.

Tekayo is a story published in the Anthology of East African Short stories, edited by Valerie Kibera. The collection boasts of other excellent short stories like Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s A Mercedes funeral, Meja Mwangi’s Incident in the park, Barbara Kimenye’s The battle of the sacred tree, among many others.

Baby animals

2009-08-26T00:37:00.000-07:00

Inculcating a reading and knowledgeable culture in children calls upon the availability of necessary information resources written in the taste and style than can appeal to the interest of children. In Cecelia Dube Loti’s Baby Animals, nursery and primary school teachers and even parents who like teaching their children to read and write the queens language, have found a good companion.

The 22-page book knitted with illustrations of animals and their names provides children an insight into the animal kingdom. It can probably be called the dictionary of names of baby animals.

The exciting part of the book is that it is written in prose format hence making it easy for children to read as the contents can as well be recited. In the book, Loti endeavors to teach children 22 baby names of some of the common animals. The first page teaches a child that the name of a baby dog is a puppy.

An element that appears to be of great and admirable appeal to children is that the book is written in such a way that after a baby animal introduces itself, it questions another baby animal on the other page of the book its name. That skill entices a child to go ahead to find the answer. At the end, a young reader finds answers to the baby names of the animals through the answers of other baby animals.

What can also arouse the interest of children in the book are the colourful illustrations done by Tofara Dikani. They all portray the baby animals in their infant stages. Surely, as children are young they also like young-like creatures like toys.

Further beyond, the additional art of putting all the illustrations contained in the book on the cover page but without their names offers the children an opportunity to relate the baby animals to their names while the book is covered. They could in the end refer to the actual pages for corrections.

By the time a child finishes reading the book he/she would have learnt names of baby animals for the following big animals: dog, cat, lion, sheep, pig, hen, cock, bird, eagle, horse, tadpole, duck, goose, butterfly, deer, bull, cow, goat, swan, hawk, and hare.

It is worthy mentioning that though the book is meant for children it is not logical enough to restrict it to them. Definitely, not many adults know all the baby names of animals written in the book. Having a glimpse at it can equip adults with knowledge of the baby names hence responding accurately in case children ask one some of the baby names of the animals written in the book.

Of course the book would have been much better if the baby animals had been arranged in the book in alphabetical since children easily follow alphabet. It could have provided them an easy task of easy learning through twinning its contents to the alphabet. However, that having been said, the book remains a vital resource in enriching vocabulary of children and adult learners. The author can only be encouraged to consider the baby animals story as a series to provide a more wider insight into name s of many other animals left uncovered in the book.

‘Baby animals’ has been published by the National Library Service and it is edition number 32 in its Werengani series. Werengani series is a series of books meant to enrich reading habits of primary school age children. The National Library Service embarked on the series to alleviate effects of the chronic absence of suitable reading materials written and produced with the Malawian child in mind.

The motive of authoring the book can be achieved if it is made available to children through their school libraries. The advantage is that publishers of the book, National Library Service distribute books for free to primary, secondary and tertiary institutions. School librarians will do their pupils justice by acquiring the book freely from the publishers.

The pursuit for economic independence

2009-07-10T01:18:00.000-07:00

Patrick Achitabwino

As a nation we stand tall and proud that we have clocked 45 years of self-rule. The heroes and heroines of this country are venerated as their will to secure a free country materialized either in their life time or long after their demise. It is obvious that their struggle for the independence of the country was not only meant to end at wrestling power from colonialists but to empower the natives of the country to own what belongs to them, to rejoice in the fruits of their resources and spearhead an economic revolution in a great fight against poverty and underdevelopment. Within the political independence is enriched our desire for better jobs, better pays and working conditions, more schools and health clinics, affordable modern amenities and, above all, a better future for our children

We can however not be an independent people without economic independence, so it is said. The American Revolution was not born merely to gain political independence from England but so too economic independence.

After 45 years of political independence we are yet to realize our dream of economic emancipation. More than ever before, the nation is challenged to strategize and implement policies that will spearhead an economic revolution capable of bailing out millions of our citizens from the trap of excruciating poverty. The political trend of the country should shift from one riddled with antagonism and the pull-down syndrome of developmental initiatives to the one that endeavours to reclaim a free-from-poverty independent state.

Our will for economic independence is meant to safeguard the inalienable fundamental human rights of our people. We are reminded by Article 25 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights that everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health, and well being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care.

It is worthy noting that the exacerbation of poverty erodes the dignity of the poor and further threatens the stability of political independence. Politics, political systems, democracy are all meaningless when the basic needs of a population are not satisfied. Apparently, the basic need of the people of the country is economic revolution that can lead to economic empowerment necessitating them to redeem their lives from the meshes of poverty. Political independence that lacks the support of economic independence is of no relevance to a family man who hardly has enough to feed his family; it means nothing to a woman who risks to see his children dying of preventable diarrhea arising as a result of unavailability of essential health services.

In an article entitled: The intervention of political and economic independence, Hsu Nai-Chiung says that without secure and full political independence, genuine independence is impossible; without genuine economic independence, secure and full political independence cannot last. Political independence is the precedent for economic independence, while economic independence is the basis for political independence.

The journey to economic emancipation must start from infrastructure investment and development. It is an irrefutable fact that infrastructure development forms the backbone to Africa’s economic independence. Infrastructure plays a vital role in sustainable development, foreign direct investment flow, GDP growth, inflation reduction, job creation, trade, service delivery and the cost of doing business.

We are proud that as a nation we have embarked on addressing our deficiencies in infrastructure development. The current administration has prioritized road networks, rail developments and high above all the Shire-Zambezi waterway. At least that marks the genesis to economic independence. Lord Aikins Adusei states that most rural communities in Africa become inaccessible during rainy seasons and harvested crops are wasted due to lack of transport. It is estimated that close to 40 percent of food produced in rural areas in Africa - countries that gained political independence – rots due to lack of roads and bridges. The absence of electricity, water, sanitation, irrigation facilities and silos limit the ability of the people to create wealth and do away with poverty. Banana farmers in Molere will no longer mourn over rotting bananas as they will be beneficiaries of the Thyolo-Makwasa road, maize traders in phalombe will benefit from the Chitakale-Phalombe-Jali road. Mobility of traders will be easy in Chitipa as a result of the Karonga-chitipa road.

Now is the time that the green-belt initiative takes its course. We need to enhance agricultural infrastructure. For a country blessed with perennial rivers, why should our agriculture depend on rain alone? The first step to economic independence is the adequate availability of food at the household level. The green-belt initiative coupled with the input fertilizer subsidy program form the basis on which we can build the foundations for economic independence. We can no longer be an independent nation if we fail to satisfy our consumption needs in a country with vast masses of fertile land and the political will to attain food security.

The private sector faces the daunting task of becoming the panacea for the country’s economic independence. Our trade should shift from the traditional primary products to value added. Until when shall we ever remain suppliers or raw tobacco leaf and cotton? For the whole span of our independence we have been producing primary products that go to developed countries; they have been adding value to them and sell them back to us. They have been reaping benefits that are six, ten or fifteen times more than that which accrues to us the producers. We lament with renowned literary icon Ngugi wa Thiongo: why should the builder sleep on the verandah? Why should the carpenter sit on the mat? Now we ask ourselves, why should the tillers of the soil earn too little on their tobacco sweat? Why do we allow the dominance of economics that allows tobacco buyer to set prices for our tobacco leaf regardless of the sweat of the tenant? Let us have our own tobacco processing plants. We have illovo sugar for sugar, it is a good example to emulate.

Probably one limiting factor to the attainment of economic independence in the country has been our inability to generate and distribute energy. 45 years after attaining political independence, our electricity supplying utility body can hardly satisfy the energy needs of even less than 7 percent of the population of the country at least 24 hours a day. If hydro power has failed us, let us try other alternative sources of energy. The Finish president on a visit to Nigeria in March 2009 wondered why Nigerians were incapable of generating energy for cooking and other services from the so much sun and wind. 45 years later, we can hardly supply solar or wind energy to our rural citizens. With intermittent electricity supply how do we expect our livestock farmers to benefit from their dairy farming? With no reliable power how do we expect the villagers to shift dependence from fuel wood for cooking?

Lord Aikins Adusei concludes in his paper that without heavy investment in infrastructure, it will be very difficult for Africa to make any progress forward towards economic independence. Increasing access to water, sanitation, roads, electricity, railways, inland water transport system, airports, harbours…are essential to Africa’s economic and social development, for without them it will be impossible to reduce poverty and improve both human and rural lives. It is costly but the price is what we have to pay in continued pursuit for economic independence.

Achieving meaningful economic independence certainly entails enacting legislation that protects the interest of the citizens of the country. We have to regulate the business industry as Indians do. We should be open to foreign investors as we have always been but on the basis that the new companies they establish should have Malawians as major shareholders. Only in that perspective can we be assured that we can no longer be exploited as any great part of investment made in the country certainly has a leaning on the citizens of the country.

In the book entitled ‘Social Contract,’ Rousseau states that human beings must be made citizens before they can be made men, but in order that they may be citizens, government must give liberty under law, must provide for material welfare and remove gross inequality in the distribution of wealth.

This is the best time that our people own and benefit from the natural resources the country has. We are guided by Benjamin Mkapa’s words in an interview with the African Business Editor: “our natural resources are being exploited, not by ourselves but by outsiders. That’s not necessarily bad, but its how that exploitation benefits not just those that invest their capital but those who own those natural resources.

As we celebrate the remarkable achievement of 45 years of independence from colonial rule we should never forget that our independence is not yet complete. We have the duty to achieve economic independence to effectively claim to have self-rule. In the words of a Kenyan constitutional law Professor Dr. PLO Lumumba, unless we change our policies, Africans will remain hewers of wood and drawers of water for advanced economies. The destiny of the Malawi nation should focus to economic independence which will result into the abolition of poverty. Why should our people be among the poorest when they are owners of the world’s richest continent in natural resources? Why should we have in the same country some individuals having net worth in millions of US dollars when thousands more live without knowing if they would have a meal before they sleep? We have the resources to complement our 45 years of independence with economic transformation we only need to change our decisions. Our celebrations for 45 years on independence should mark the genesis for economic independence.

KOMA CROC: A CROCODILES’ PARADISE

2009-06-09T06:59:00.000-07:00

Patrick Achitabwino

What comes to mind when people think of Mangochi is the azure Lake Malawi and Malawi’s pride, Chambo fish. The current strong advocacy for turning Mangochi into a tourism haven in a bid to turn tourism into Malawi’s gold has heavily been based on the presence of Lake Malawi and its wonderful shores highly spiced with numerous holiday resorts.

A trip to Koma Croc will let you realize that Mangochi has more to offer beyond the lake and delicious Chambo fish. Ever heard of anywhere in the country where the most feared animals, crocodiles, are bred for tourism? Koma Croc is the place. A single trip to the place will assure you that Malawi has more to offer in the tourism sector than meets the eye. Perhaps we only lack the vision, will and desire to diversify our minds.

The crocodiles’ haven is almost 25 kilometers away from Mangochi boma towards Monkey bay. A few kilometers before reaching a path to Lake Malawi National Park is a sign post written “Koma Croc” pointing a dusty road to the right that snakes through the edge of a hill. It is that road that leads to the amazing land of crocodiles.

The place looks more deserted with a few buildings. A single glance at the office of the Koma Croc is enough to tell you that you have dared to visit crocodiles in their territory. On the wall is nailed a skin of a slained crocodile.

Cast your eyes on a large tree close to the office; you will be assured that perhaps some crocodile hunters once challenged the mighty crocodiles. There is also nailed another skin of a crocodile, a rare sight indeed.The adventure starts with a payment of a few kwachas. You will not walk anyhow. The office has a guide, who for stage one will take you to a waist-high, roofless building. It has a small dam within. You stand by the waist-high wall as he courageously jumps into the building. Small crocodiles gather in groups, basking in the sun.Drama begins when the tour guide gathers courage to challenge any of the small crocodiles. He is trained to catch them, perhaps the making of our own “Malawian crocodile hunter”. He provokes one small crocodile with a stick then it jumps towards it and as it falls to the ground he slightly pins it down to the ground with the stick around its neck. It wriggles its head and tail powerlessly. Next, he grabs it by the mouth and tail then takes it close to you. Finally he throws it back into the little dam.

“If that has to bite you, it can not cause great harm,” he assured me though I could not be that courageous to follow suit.

The next destination is some cages where middle sized crocodiles are kept. Perhaps they are then grown up into more lethal animals, the guide dares not touching any of them, let alone stepping into their cage.Finally you are taken into a large building, over two meters high, roofless. In it large crocodiles are in different compartments. There is one pavement for visitors to walk through in admiration of the crocodiles. The pavement is separated from the crocodiles with wire fences.You see large crocodiles basking in the sun, others swimming lazily in the dams within. It excites to learn some tricks crocodiles use to catch their prey. I saw a crocodile with its eyes closed, mouth agape. You might think it is dead.

“Its mouth stinks,” the guide told me and my colleagues. “That’s why you can see all those houseflies flying into its mouth.” A crocodiles is clever, once many houseflies fill its mouth, it closes it and swallows them. The trick continues over and over.

But just as many tourism places are in the country, the crocodile farm needs a face lift. It must be highly cared for to attract the attention of tourists. With the Blantyre zoo existing in history books, if well cared for and publicized, the Koma Croc can be the best place where families can be going for a closer look at the fearsome animals. It can also be a good place for educational visits.

Poverty alleviation: Role of Financial and Insurance Institutions

2009-06-02T08:36:00.000-07:00

The stabilization of the kwacha on the market coupled with the lowering on bank interest rates can be a panacea to economic development most especially in trying to fish the poor from the vicious cycle of grinding poverty. The lowering of the interest rates could lead to widening access to credit and mortgage facilities to many poor people.

Access to credit is an important element in economic development as it supports small-business creation and provides greater financial flexibility to local communities and to the whole economy as a whole. Access to credit among the poor is one of the vital weapons in the struggle against the ‘silent holocaust’ of poverty.

Loans have a great effect to help the poor to diversify their risks, invest in productive assets, and enable education, healthcare and lifestyle expenses to be within reach. Access to credit enables the poor to smooth consumption during periods of low income or unexpected loses without having to sell productive assets or spend working capital.

A great challenge to financial institutions in the present scenario is that it appears that the financial system in its present state favours larger corporate borrowers than individual households. Further beyond, smaller borrowers receive higher-priced loans than the large corporate borrowers. In the very end, the lowering of bank interest rates has had little impact on the lives of poor.

His Excellency the State President Dr. Bingu wa Mutharika once challenged banking institutions to revise their credit banking policies to be in line with means for fighting poverty among the masses. Recently, the Minister of Economic Planning and Development Hon. Ken Lipenga added a voice to the same call. In a country where over half of the population live below the poverty line, it sounds more of an alienating factor to expect the same people to have collateral in case of requesting for loans.

S. Rutherford stresses that a good financial service for the poor is one that is done in the most convenient, flexible, affordable and surest way.

Worldwide banks are now positively responding to the call of providing financial services to the poor. Permanent access to financial services can help poor people take control of their lives. To overcome poverty, people need to be able to borrow, save, invest and protect their families against risks. As Lannart Barg argues, direct access to financial services can allow very poor people to progress.

Access to credit performs wonders when it is supported by access to insurance services. Whilst both savings and credit facilities are integral in assisting the poor overcome unforeseen loses their benefits are limited to the capacity of the individual to save or make repayments says Sabbir Patel in the article: “Insurance and poverty alleviation.”

In the agro-based Malawi economy, many poor people require access to insured loans to invest in farming. In many areas in Malawi people can benefit from livestock insurance as well as crop insurance schemes. Such insurances have the power to protect the farmers from loses of climatic and natural disasters.

At present the poor have little means for money management as there is little access to banking and insurance services. It only requires a little change in the business philosophies of banking and insurance institutions to enable the poor enjoy the benefits of their services. As expressed in the book: “Empowerment and poverty reduction,” empowering poor men and women requires the removal of formal and informal institutional barriers that prevent the poor from taking action to improve their well being – individually or collectively – and limit their choices.

The development of the nation must start with addressing the plight of the poor who are in the majority.

The vaccine

2009-06-02T08:33:00.001-07:00

The chief’s lieutenant stripped the child at his bareback. There arose, in the foggy dusk of his mind, thoughts of how a swelling crowd would gather in his support, and of how policemen would comb the place like ants in the name of law and order, and maybe the worst would really come to the worst and the police would use their batons and the barrels of the guns, but if that happened at all, if that happened, oh God have mercy, stones would have to rain at the law enforcers.

Nothing succeeded, Che Jalasi believed, unless there were men and women prepared to go out and fight and sacrifice. He was ready to fight for his child to walk again. He was ready to sacrifice for the mobility of his child. He had already sacrificed a lot. When his wife tried to vaccinate the child behind his back, he chased her and since then he had been living all alone with no intention of reconciling with the wife.

The spectacled doctor, a stethoscope hanging around his neck had talked to him as he was watching his face and saw how anger had tightened it and how veins had arisen up on his neck.

“The legs have been severely deformed. This child has been affected by polio. You must have not immunized him.”

His eyes protruded. “It is not your polio. Somebody has bewitched my child. Of all the children born in our village who have not been immunized, why only my child has to suffer polio. I know who has done this. I swear, I will beat him until my child walks again.”

The doctor was wrong. Something at the back of his mind was telling him who had bewitched his child. He would tear him to pieces. He had caught the snake by the tail and it had to bite.

“Poor moth,” he said by himself as he was hurrying home. “He thought he could fly over fire and not get singed.”

He could not accept that his child be vaccinated in accordance with the immunization campaign that the government was carrying out in the country. The people of Inkosi Mtepuwa were opposed to the vaccination. The Inkosi had told his people that the immunization campaign was a plot by the government to make their children impotent.

“We are labeled as rebels,” he addressed a gathering of his people. “This government wants to suppress our future generation. These vaccines are destined to kill the maleness of all the male children. As long as I, Inkosi Mtepuwa the first, am alive, none of my people will allow their children to be killed silently by the government.”

The gathering clapped hands. They loved their Inkosi. He had always been behind them, protesting against the government for failing to bring development into his area. Just some few years past he advised his people not to cast ballots to choose a parliamentarian for the area following the sudden demise of another.

“Why should we vote for people who do not help us? Why should it be our right to vote when it does not benefit us? Why should our people queue on long lines all just to send somebody into a house full of disagreements and foul language?”

His people believed him. Che Jalasi, the chief’s loyal lieutenant, was the eyes and ears of the chief. He was the architect behind several meetings held in the village reminding people that it was a suicide taking their children to the health centre for immunization.

“Our chief doesn’t say things he does not know. When he was working in South Africa, the apartheid government planned to poison the piped water that was meant for the blacks community so that all blacks perish. Is there any difference with this government that wants to kill the reproduction power of our children? This is a silent holocaust.”

Che Jalasi was even at the forefront of a group of protesters who run to the health centre, panga knives and spears in hands. He knocked the health assistant’s door open, grabbed him by the neck and get him seated on the veranda of the health centre.

“No more vaccinations in our community.”

The health assistant trembled at the panga knife that was held close to his neck, the very key that with only a single strike could open the iron gate of death.

“Do you hear me?”

“I…I...I am …” A slap rung thunders in his left ear as he scampered down. Words could no longer come to his lips.

Che Jalasi pinned down the health assistant on the neck . “The government is paying you to betray your people. You believe in their lies. During the days I was born nobody was vaccinated. Our people have grown up healthy without vaccinations. Since when have vaccinations become of great part of our people?”

As his meaty legs kept pushing him home, he rubbed dust out of his eyes. If only the health assistant could dream, he had to escape from the Mtepuwa kingdom. His life was mourning for the kid stripped at the back. He thought of the crippled legs. He would have loved to see his child growing up as athletic as he was, marshalling his young boys from the bully children of the adjacent villages, rise to one of the feared bodyguards either for the current chief or any other to follow. It was a pride to be a Chief’s lieutenant in Mtepuwa Kingdom.

One thing could not be erased from his mind. The health assistant at the health clinic home had bewitched his child so that all lies about the importance of vaccination appear to be true. What a coward, Che Jalasi thought, if the healthman was man enough he should have gathered courage to face him face to face, a knobkerrie by a knobkerrie, spear by a spear, and wrestle till the last man stands.

He stormed into his home village singing anti-immunization songs. People heard him, a cluster gathered and sped direct to the health assistant’s home.

“My son should walk. You can’t bewitch my son…,” he was perspiring.

The health assistant stood still, immersed in the sea of the eyes of the angering villagers. They had machetes, torn branches of trees, axes, stones and whatever weapon they could use to vent their wrath on the bewitching health man. He had seen the crowd demolishing his house and the clinic, setting everything ablaze.

Police vehicles screeched to a stop as baton wielding officers jumped out. Che Jalasi stood in front of the crowd as if he was an impenetratable barricade. They pointed guns at him and defiantly held a panga knife and spear in a combat stance.

“You are obstructing justice…” a pot-bellied police officer said.

“We are denying the power of the justice that wants to kill our children. We are defending the justice that will make our generations live.”

The police charged at him. He took one step back then swayed an axe over one policeman. It stuck on his thigh. Stones flew at the police as they let guns speak the language of law and order. Che Jalasi was shot in the right leg and arrested alongside Inkosi Mtepuwa the first and thirty other protesters.

In the prison he could not remember how long he had been fighting the bedbugs and fleas and the lice and the other tiny things that gave him sleepless nights. Two weeks must have passed as the wound on his thigh was rotting, stinking and giving out pus. From a distance his ears listened to the news bulletin on the winding-powered radio.

“We will fight back for our kingdom,” he said by himself.

The Minister of Local Government had just announced that Inkosi Mtepuwa the first had been dethroned by command of government for denying his people access to vaccines. The Ministry of health had also confirmed that 65 children were at risk of suffering polio in the Mtepuwa kingdom. The government had therefore demanded that immunization be carried out in the kingdom with immediate effect.

“Spare my child,” tears rolled down his cheeks. “Spare my child …” He fainted.

In life and in death

2009-06-02T08:26:00.000-07:00

They had sunk their ballooning bodies on the bedside of Michael, trembling, shuddering and aghast. Life was breathing out of him, the limbs had been broken, the head had been bandaged and the beddings were blooded.

He uttered a word but his voice faded like a faint echo from distant hills. He carried in his soul not only his voice but his and the voice of Miranda. Mr. and Mrs. Yotamu exchanged glances as rivulets of tears flew out of their eyes. They looked at their son in the eyes again; they were lifeless and lusterless and seemingly pupil less.

Michael had not slept at home for three days. The last time he bombarded his parents’ house, he had snaked in shouting, the hairs on his head standing erect with anger. His wounded heart was cursing the days and the hours and the bitter moments which seemed to lengthen and lengthen.

“You don’t understand what it is to love Miranda,” he shouted.

Mr. Yotamu’s face thickened as anger exploded through his bushy mouth. “You are not grown up enough to understand love. Look at my bald head, my life has seen and known more than you.”

Michael rolled his shirt as his glance clashed with her mother’s face. She knew they would not agree anything. As long as Michael was their child they would never succumb to his emotions.

“We seek the best for your life. We raised you up and we would love to see you happily married. Not to that lunatic…”

Michael had his hands elevated in the air. “God forbid. She is as human as papa and you.”

Life had been rosy until the moment Michael arrived with Miranda in his parent’s house. It was time he was grown up enough to have a matrimonial ring on his finger. He had walked in, hand in hand with Miranda. Her other hand was striking the walking stick down as she was searching for where to step her foot next.

“Meet Miranda,” Michael had said as they were seated. “We have been in love since the days of our college and I am pleased to say that we have resolved to get married.”

Mr. Yotamu did not answer. Mrs. Yotamu looked at her son with disgust.

“We are all teaching at the same secondary school,” he continued, unmindful of their displeased faces.

Mr. Yotamu took a sip of cold water, angrily gazed at his son. His voice, like thunder, roared: “She is blind, isn’t it?”

“Yes dad.”
“You are marrying a blind girl, isn’t it?”
“Yes dad.”

He cleared his throat. “We have never had a blind person in our clan and I swear, you should not be the first one to bring this bad omen amidst our people.”

Miranda’s heart thundered as tears trekked out of her sightless eyes.

Mrs. Yotamu added more salt on the fresh wound: “I think something is wrong with you my son. Of all the girls, why a blind one? What is there in the blind that is so special that the sighted do not have?”

Michael felt the bricks of pride being demolished. Miranda was not just any ordinary woman. She was a woman full of love. Thrice, girls with sight had duped him for others. He wanted to tell them that back at the college when he was admitted at the hospital Miranda was on his bedside.

Michael wore a mantle of courage on his shoulders: “She is blind, yes, but her soul has eyes that can see love. You are sighted but in your sighted eyes you are unable to see love. To me, as blind as she is, she is not just a breathing living thing but the Miranda of my dreams. If only you had eyes that could see what lies in oceans of love, you would have smiled at Miranda. She would not have been shedding tears…”

Mr. Yotamu bashed the table. “Out of my sight.”

With his meaty hands he rushed at the girl, grabbed her on the wrist and muscled her out. Michael could hardly believe the action of his beastly father. Miranda fell on the veranda as Michael walked slowly towards her. He held her on his bosom as her tears rained on his chest.

Michael stormed into the house lazily in the evening like a cat fished out of the bowl of oil, disjointed, restless and tired. He looked at his mother as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Do you know what you have done mama…”

They were both looking at him.

“Mama, Miranda is at the hospital. Her blood pressure shot high resulting into stroke. I have seen her being oxygenated…”

Mr. Yotamu banged the table. “If you have nothing to say you better retire for sleep.”

Michael changed his shirt then stood before them. “If it was a blind man marrying a sighted woman you would not complained. It now seems a crime for the opposite to happen.”

He banged the door behind his back, dragging his feet slowly like an impregnated chameleon on the way to the hospital, leaving behind a tiny cloud of dust. The image of Miranda was before him, ricocheting his mind over and again. In the hospital his eyes caught a glance with those of Miranda: they had lost the sparkle and were looking more distant. She felt her hand in his then felt a cold chill down his spine. Blood had stopped flowing. It was all over for Miranda.

“In life and in death I will always love you,” with a tearful face Michael said as he was throwing soil in her grave that had welcomed its new tenant. He saw the soil closing her from the chapter of the living. But not to him, together they had written a painful chapter that could not be thrown away. From the disordered chamber of his brain, Miranda had not departed and she would never depart.

Mr. and Mrs. Yotamu were shaken when the police called them with the shocking news that their son had been hit by a speeding track. He had been walking on the road, unmindful of the direction. Witnesses had said that several cars hooted at him but he kept walking until a truck hit him.

“We should have let him marry Miranda,” her voice was sorrow-stricken as her hand firmly rested on Michael’s chest. He coughed, blood gushed out of his mouth.

“Our only son…,” her voice died as she got lost into sobs. She looked at the husband in the eyes; they were red as his countenance sombred.

The doctor pressed Michael at the chest and blood gushed out again.

“Our records show that he was absent minded as he was crossing the road,” the doctor tried to sooth them. A stethoscope was hanging down his chest as he was gazing at them through the spectacles that were hanging on the edges of his nostrils.

“Mama,” his voice labored to be audible.

“Speak my son, speak.”

Michael coughed, parted the blooded lips open then distantly said. “You…you see what you have done to Miranda…”

They looked at him; his face was drenched in tears. “I have no reason to remain alive in this world where others have power to deny others love. When Miranda was alive I was happy but you killed my happiness hours…”

The doctor pulled a thermometer out of Michael’s armpits as he labored to speak.
“Death is kind mama. I will meet Miranda in the world of the dead where love can blossom regardless of blindness. Love, ma…loves…”

His mouth remained agape as the eyes stood still. The doctor punched him on the chest then spread his arms in the air.

“I am afraid we have lost such a wonderful young man.”

She fainted.

Foerver my love

2009-06-02T08:22:00.000-07:00

Destiny is destiny; no mortal being can tamper with it. Dogs can rule this world but they cannot rule God. Though the term dog is an inverse reading of the term God, a dog will always remain a vicious animal with no power to change the course that God has curved for us.

Clara my love, my life is skinned to the born as I cast a glimpse at the torrent of tears bursting out of your sparkling eyes. Please lean on my shoulder; it is the only shoulder you can cry on for comfort. This epoch of pain and sadness, this chapter of abandonment and restlessness shall soon come to pass. We will triumph with time. Thoughts of you always linger in my brain, awake or asleep, sparking a feel of a terrible sensation of blood flow through my veins, a flow of the desire and the longing to be with you always.

“Promise me that you will love me forever, that you will love me the way I am,” you told me, lying at the hospital bed. Your bright eyes had lost the touch with reality. I assured you that I would. I said that to you I would hang on like death; that without you my life would be worthless, with no desire to live but no wish to die.

It hurts me to see you in tears. I know the merciless wounds that words can wreck on a human. Words cut beyond razors, for razors cut where you can see but words mercilessly dissect the inner marrows of the heart where you can’t see. Trust me, my life is ready to go any mile, to withstand any pains that there might be, until we realize our dream. Remember Clara, you are the reason why I am alive, the dream of my life, the candle that lights my path of happiness.

To begin from the very beginning, yes the beginning of the beginning, I told my mother straight in the face that I see no woman on earth other than you fit enough to go to the altar with. I told her in the face that I love you and that I was even ready to sacrifice my life for you.

I looked at mama, Clara, it was as if she was ill, there was a tremor on her face. Then I heard her voice very slow and very soft like the sea breaking steadily against old and broken cliffs: “You are too young to understand love. You are too young to mention love and death in one mouth.”

I see Clara; the measure of one’s intelligence is not by the size of the head. At last I have come to realize that in as much as my mother is a woman; she is far away from understanding what love is all about.

Probably my mother does not understand what it is to have your blood flowing in my vessels. I can never part away from you, we can never part away from each other, not even death can separate us. Every time I touch my heart and feel its beat, I am reminded that what carries life in my blood vessels is your love. Mama can’t see that. She is blinded by the need to get hold of grandchildren she can call her own.

The circumstances through which we met makes me believe beyond reasonable doubt that we were meant for each other. I just saw you by my bedside at the hospital. Doctors told me that I had fallen from the school bus, drunk, on the way from a soccer match back to the campus, Mangani College of Sciences. Of course we were all in the same class but we had not been that close. Something pricked me when the doctor told me that I had had a blood transfusion and that you had donated blood for the cause. From that moment on I stopped seeing you like Clara Yakaya, I only saw an angel in your form.

“I wish you a quick recovery,” I heard your voice dancing softly in my ears. After you were gone, your name sprung up to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour into my bosom. I thought a little of the future, I thought of your blood that was keeping me alive, I thought of the joy my life would get if only I live with you till death do us part. Clara, I was thinking that when you come again how would I explain my absolute adoration of your beauty: a tall woman with an elegant figure, long-legged, narrow-hipped, broad-backed, strings of black hair dancing on your forehead.

I caught a glimpse of you again on the next day in the company of fellow students. Honestly Clara, cease crying, my heart leapt a somersault. I did not know how I would unburden the scrolls of love buried in the innermost soul of my heart. You gave me a handshake; I grabbed your hand longer in mine. There was something in your eyes that told me that you would be mine forever, something that whispered into my heart that you would never leave me. Actually, in your left ear I whispered that I love you. You just smiled then left with your colleagues for the school campus.

I see it unthinkable that four years later in our love life, having introduced you to my parents so too the inverse being true, my mother then has to insert a wedge in our life to tear us apart. I solemnly swear by the moon and the stars and the sky that I do not subscribe to what my mother said to you. She is not God. It is only you and me who have the moral mandate to decide our destiny.

You see what, I am highly surprised that a week prior to events that led to disagreements with mom, we visited her. I saw you pounding maize with the apongozi side by side. She actually confided in me that I had made the right choice. Why now? Why the indecision?

Of course what upset her was that a medical examination revealed that you have uterus cancer. We were together. Doctors actually said that the only solution was to operate on you and remove the infected uterus. Oh, God, we sighed a sigh of discomfiture, that entailed that we would never ever have a child of our own.

Danger, Clara, danger. You visited mama this afternoon only to meet a woman who could not dare look you in the face. I looked at papa only to see his face going somber; his life seemed to have fled. He tried to infuse life and happiness on his face, a mark that could not help to betray the cold and dark heart underneath his ribs.

“Sorry apongozi,” mama at last faced you in the face. “You must leave my son alone. He cannot marry a woman who will not bear her a child. He is my only child.”

You see, I didn’t expect mama to be that ruthless. I saw you returning back, dejected, desolate. I rushed over to you but you parried me away. I rushed back to my parents; there was nothing we could agree. Clara, I remain yours, the Patrick Sache on your life, the one whose life is kept alive by your blood. I promise you Clara that forever you will be my love. There can never be any woman to fill the space that you have been occupying. I have a solution; we will go to orphanages, pick two kids from there then make them our own. Please smile, at least I have to see the whiteness of your teeth.

RETHINKING MARTYRHOOD

2009-06-01T05:30:00.000-07:00

Rethinking Martyrhood

Patrick Achitabwino

“We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.” I have a Dream speech, Martin Luther King Jr.

When Martin Luther King Jr. was delivering the famous I have a dream speech in Washington DC on 28 August 1963, his eyes were focused on the future of America. He was later to be a martyr for freedom. Many decades after his assassination, America finally has a black president in the name of Barack Obama. If the soul of the revered reverend has to look at the trend, definitely it will be filled with excitement that the struggle he spearheaded alongside many other black civil rights activists like Malcolm X has not in vain.

Just as America has had a huge share of martyrs for freedom, so too is Malawi. The history of the liberation of the country from colonialism and even autocratic regime cannot be complete if it alienates the role that martyrs played in shaping the democratic destiny that we attained. It is imperative however that we realise that the heroic activities that led to their deaths were meant to serve only a single purpose: developing the motherland. If we are falling back on development, if we are wasting much time with corruption, fraud, and all evils that impinge on socio-economic development of the country, certainly, knowingly or not, we are render the martyrs heroic acts of no value.

44 years later after gaining independence over half of the population of our country live on less than USS$ 2 a day, our mothers walk long distances to access water, access to health facilities is beyond reach of millions. Three governments later, we are still challenged to develop our country in line with the vision of our beloved martyrs. The emancipation of our country from colonialism and dictatorship cannot be highly appreciated if the majority of our people continue to be sadly crippled by abject poverty, political immaturity bordering on settling personal scores than addressing issues that can lead to development, and development of myopic programmes to appease political followers or opponents. 44 years later while sitting on a vast land of wealth that is so fertile but also harboring essential minerals that can speed the country’s economic emancipation, we are yet to utilize the potential we have for the benefit of the masses. The dream of the martyrs is miles away from being fulfilled in totality.

When those who lived to ensure that future generations live in a better Malawi decided to take up arms or oppose ideologies that were retrogressive in the development agenda of the country were martyred they were like signing a promissory note for the country, blessing us with the mandate to carry over their vision for the benefit of the citizens of the country.

Suffice so to say, the raising of the national flag in the name of independence was not in itself an end to the freedom that our forefathers craved for. The struggle was basically meant to ensure that the liberation of the country brings with it food on the tables of people, social, economic and academic development, create jobs for generations present then and those to come. Even the attainment of democracy was not only meant to provide us a license to speak anything in the name of freedom of expression, it was meant to empower us to speak developmental issues, strategies for economic growth and poverty alleviation. Unfortunately, we have wasted much time on political propaganda. At best, we have been mediocre in implementing strategies for economic growth. If the souls of our heroic martyrs have to take a look at deliberations in the national assembly, they will feel ashamed that honourables elected to address the needs of the people do easily, and with little remorse, turn the august house into a kindergarten where they have a license to speak any language with the privilege of not being prosecuted. That actually taking place when the masses they represent go on empty bellies.

We have, as a nation, a mandate to carry on with the dream of our heroes and heroines of the country who lost their lives for a cause: freedom for the people of their motherland. The onus is on us now to liberate our brothers and sisters from the bondage of poverty, deprivation, suffering, gender and other discrimination. As Africa’s political icon Nelson Mandela said in his inaugural address, so too we can say on our own soil, let there be justice for all, let there be peace for all, let there be work, bread, water and salt for all. There is no better means to thank our distinguished martyrs than to further the dreams that led to their premature deaths.

On this martyrs’ day let us reflect with a vision for the future the lives of Reverend John Chilembwe, John Grey Kufa, Attati Mpakati, Masauko Chipembere, Orton Chirwa, Mkwapatira Mhango, Aaron Gadama and the other renowned and unrenowned martyrs who sacrificed their lives for a better Malawi.

Bingu's Victory: Dreams, aspirations and the future

2009-05-26T23:46:00.000-07:00

2009 POLLS: DREAMS, ASPIRATIONS AND THE FUTURE

Patrick Achitabwino

The will of the people is the will of God, so the wise says. The will of God has come out; Dr. Bingu wa Mutharika will lead the nation in the next five years, implementing the vision of nation-building and national development. The enthusiasm that drove millions of Malawians to cast ballots defying apathy fears and the perceived too-close-to-calls-results’ comments of our political analysts and scientists is a complete manifestation of the dreams, hopes and aspirations of the people of the land. Top at the agenda of the minds of Malawians has been continued socio-economic transformation.

Malawi as a country has wholeheartedly given Dr. Mutharika and his DPP government the mandate to advance socio-economic recovery policies. We are reminded by even the African National Congress (ANC) Freedom Charter that no government can claim authority unless it is based on the will of the people. Dr. Mutharika and the DPP government therefore wear robes of authority as per the mandate of the development-conscious Malawians.

The 2009 polls can be best described as a victory for democracy in the country. Several previously perceived political benchmarks have crashed. The pattern through which we have voted manifests that our democracy has matured beyond comprehension. We have broken the boundaries of perceived traditional African democracy that offer support to contesting presidential candidates along tribal or regional lines. Dr. Mutharika’s triumph is a symbol manifesting that gone is the chapter of politics of tribalism, regionalism, personalities, god-fatherhood, sycophancy, parrotry and pull-down syndrome. Ushered in is a new era of politics of issues and national development.

The perspective through which people have voted out some previously perceived political untouchables out of the national assembly demonstrates that Malawians now have redeemed their capacity to utilize the authority that belongs to them. It is no harm to express that every irresponsible and electorates-wishes inconsiderate behavior portrayed by some former lawmakers in the national assembly disfranchised millions of people they were representing. However, while the disfranchisement could have killed the people’s trust in politics, it served as a springboard for launching their power to remove underperforming parliamentarians from the august house.

As the political dust is settling down, Dr. Mutharika and his government are highly challenged by the electorates to deliver on the promises made. The president and his distinguished honourables in the national assembly have to be mindful that they silently signatured on the hearts of Malawians a binding contract on development issues to be carried out. Now the time has come to transform rhetoric into action. From the campaign promises articulated in the manifesto must grow a strong determination to satisfy the aspirations of Malawians. It is good to note that our votes are a sum total of our aspirations and our ballots mirror the future of Malawi we crave for. Our votes manifests our dream to wage a fierce war against poverty. Our dream echo the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr: “The curse of poverty has no justification in our age. It is socially as cruel and blind as the practice of cannibalism at the dawn of civilization, when men ate each other because they had not yet learned to take food from the soil or to consume the abundant animal life around them. The time has come for us to civilize ourselves by the total, direct and immediate abolition of poverty.”

Our voting pattern has consolidated our nascent democracy. We are reminded by Georges Nzongola-Ntalaja that democracy is a moral imperative, a social process, and in particular a type of political practice appealable to all human societies.

The best means to safeguarding this admirable new chapter of politics is only through delivery of promises made. It is worthy putting at the back of minds that democracy is meaningless to people without economic and social rights. Democracy means nothing to people who cannot eat properly, have no roof over their heads, are jobless, unable to send children to schools, and have no access to a minimum of descent health care. Our people will celebrate and sustain this admirable democracy if food security keeps being maintained, the K2 billion loan to the youth is disbursed, our pregnant women access maternal services without the fear of dying out of maternal complications, among several core fundamental needs. Our people need water, electricity and other essential amenities. We are proud that our dreams are well entrenched in the Malawi Growth and Development Strategy (MGDS). Let the document be the guiding factor to national development.

In his David Anderson Address entitled: Challenges of pluralism, democracy, governance and development, renowned developmental economics Professor Adebayo Adedeji reminds us that democracy is more than just ballot baxes, the political parties and all the institutional trappings. It is a way of life, a culture and a lifestyle at all levels of society and in all spheres of human endeavors. Through our votes we have placed ourselves on the avenue of democratic progress that has to become a part of our life and living. Politicians will no longer take the trust of the masses for granted.

It is now the hope of the country that through Dr. Mutharika’s second five-year term, millions of Malawians will benefit from socio-economic policies that will fish them out from meshes of excruciating poverty, the people of the land would share in the wealth of their country. Thousands of people in the country are miserably paid, earning far less than what their labour befits. The votes of the economically-disadvantaged were a cry for the establishment of an atmosphere that restores their human dignity through the abolition of the exploitation of man by man perpetrated by some employers who pay their employees money too little to sustain a living. We borrow the words of Oliver Tambo, one of South Africa’s political icons: ‘it is unconceivable that some Africans should achieve happiness on the basis of the tears and grief of other Africans.’

The eyes of Malawians are now fixed at the national assembly. It is the hope of the people of Malawi that the DPP majority will work for the betterment of the people of the country. We anticipate the passing of national development bills and the appropriate scrutinization of budgets in the light of providing masses appropriate essential services. This is the time that lawmakers bring sanity in the national assembly then convince us that the august house is indeed the house for deliberating the wishes of the people. We are not far away from 2014 when we will use our prerogative rights again to hire or fire lawmakers. The miserable loss of previously outspoken lawmakers is enough wake up call to now parliamentarians.

Whereas African countries have and continue to be perceived as retrogressive in democratic ideals and fundamentals, Malawi has proved to have embraced democracy in totality: peaceful and transparent elections. We have finally extolled virtues of multi-ethnicism and have now embraced it as a tool for nation-building and national development. Now is the best moment to do away with feelings of political bitterness that characterized the campaign period. All the politics, all the campaigning, all the manifestos were all means of finding best solutions to healing socio-economic ills dogging the development of the country. At the end of the day, the best considered formula to socio-economic progress that Bingu unveiled to the masses won the peoples’ hearts hence the renewal of Dr. Bingu wa Mutharika’s tenancy at the state house. We congratulate you Mr. President.

Beyond the Horizon

2009-05-26T23:44:00.000-07:00

BEYOND THE HORIZON

Patrick Achitabwino

To you, my lady, I sing madrigals
Through the silent strings of the wind though
For the ears of the heart of love
Hear the whispers of the silent wind.

Oh, mistress your love if I have to prize
Gold is nothing. Silver is nothing.
My heart mantled in waiting robes
Patiently for you and you alone can wait
For as long as eternity itself.

If distance was but to arrow hope dead
Loneliness plunder bricks of love to rubbles
The rose flower in me could have withered
But no waiting in love is too long
No loneliness in silent love is fatal.

As the chariot of time flies by
So does it at its tail carry closer and closer
Love that knows no borders
Till you come, oh mistress, I will wait.

Economics Journalism Handbook - Book review

2009-05-26T23:43:00.000-07:00

ECONOMICS JOURNALISM HANDBOOK
For the Malawi Media

Author: Nixon K. Kariithi

Economics journalism in Africa is one of the branches of media that most people classify as having a strong appeal to elitist orientation. Most business and economic stories lack the spark to ignite public interest as they are characterized with jargon and issues that affect large corporate bodies. The Economics Journalism Handbook for the Malawi Media by Professor Nixon Kariithi seems a timely intervention in the empowerment of economic journalists to broaden their outreach so too reinforcing their writing skills.

The handbook consists of 7 chapters and appendices of glossary of national budget terms and copy editing marks. Chapter 1 provides an insight into the state of business and economic journalism in Africa. It clarifies that reporting on business and economic issues in Africa has become of significant importance as a result of the realization that most of Africa’s major problems – war, poverty, dictatorship, and ethnic hostilities – have an economic dimension worthy reporting on. Not only that, the increasing trade in business interaction between African countries has also lead to the growth of economic reporting.

On the state of business and economic reporting in Africa the chapter highlights some problems that hinder progressive reporting, among them, reporters inability to distinguish between personalities and issues, nor developing links between related macroeconomic events; and reluctance of government sources to provide data.

The second chapter narrates what the author calls: ‘Writing as a way of life.’ It is in this chapter that economics’ reporters are reminded that in journalism effective writing is measured on the barometer of effective communication. Journalism has to narrow at reporting persuasively, interestingly, powerfully and effectively. Another beauty of this chapter is that it gives economic reporters a good dose of putting parts of speech into good use. With examples, it further clarifies how best to use punctuation.

Reporters who have been having headaches in newsgathering will find relief in chapters 3 and 4 as they give tips on newsgathering techniques. Kariithi challenges journalists to source all stories clearly and exciplictly to enable their audience to form their own judgement of a story’s credibility, and to protect the newsrooms’ reputation if stories are challenged. The handbook cautions that though press releases are sources of information, journalists should be handling them with skepticism. Press releases are intended to promote the interests and favourable reputation of the individuals and organisations that disseminate them. Reporters should have the edge to unearth circumstances leading to the issuing of the press releases.

Business and economics can not survive without numbers. It is in this regard that chapter 5 takes an intrinsic look into the significant importance of statistics in news stories. Chapter 6 attempts to reinforce the understanding and covering of national budget. National budget coverage should encompass the whole budget cycle that covers the following stages: preparation/formulation; approval/enactment; implementation/execution; monitoring and evaluation; and audit and reviews

The handbook says: “Journalists should report on the budget issues throughout the year.”

Among the essential documents that the Handbook encourages economic reporters to refer to when reporting national budget issues include: the budget statement, the annual economic report, the financial statement, draft estimates of expenditure on recurrent and capital account and supplementary estimates of expenditure on recurrent and capital accounts.

The final chapter of the book is entitled: “Improving economics news writing and reporting.” The chapter emphasizes on the power of writing strong news’ introductions. It also offers some practical ways of improving news reporting.

The handbook has great relevance to the Malawi setting as most of the examples illustrated in it are reprints of paragraphs of news stories published in newspapers in the country. Kariithi, an associate professor of Journalism and Media Studies at the University of Witwatersrand in South Africa did a fair job of research. The handbook, as the author emphasizes, is a critical addition to resources available to African journalists as they endeavour to accurately and effectively report their national economies. The handbook can also be used for academic studies in journalism.

The author however could have done much justice to the book if there had been balanced coverage of print and broadcasting illustrations used as examples. Almost all illustrations are from print media. Probably this has been the case as most broadcasters do not keep records of news they air. On 3 occasions, the term ‘to’ had been referred to as ‘co’ and in another sentence ‘days’ was spelled as ‘clays.’ However, these few errors do not undervalue the content of this vital resource.

Living the Dr. Livingstone Dream

2009-05-26T23:42:00.001-07:00

LIVING THE LIVINGSTONE DREAM

Patrick Achitabwino

“And if my disclosures regarding the terrible ujijian slavery should lead to the suppression of the East Coast slave trade, I shall regard that as a greater matter by far than the discovery of all the Nile sources together,” Dr. David Livingstone in a letter to the editor of the New York Herald

If central Africa carries history of renowned figures who initiated what could be termed as the renaissance of Central Africa, then one, Dr. David Livingstone stands tall in that remarkable history. Dr. Livingstone made geographical discoveries for European knowledge, inspired abolitionists of slave trade, explorers and missionaries, opened up central Africa to missionaries who initiated the education and health care for Africans and trade by the African Lakes Company. The Livingstone impact undoubtedly played a crucial role in the struggle for national independence in different central African states. Africans educated in mission schools founded by people inspired by Livingstone were at the forefront of national independence movements in central, eastern and southern Africa.

Over a century later, we are yet to realize the full dream of Dr. Livingstone. Transportation of goods is confined to roads, unable to develop the cheaper water routes. Over a century later we are dreaming of the Shire-Zambezi waterway as one means of enhancing trade in the Sub Sahara part of Africa. We are yet to benefit greatly from trade. At best, we can only afford to export primary products, thus reaping too little from our sweat. In the words of Dr. Patrick Lumumba, an eminent academician and law professor, Africans remain the hewers of wood and drawers of water for larger economies.

Dr. Livingstone believed that Christianity, commerce and civilization would deliver Africa from slavery and barbarism. Over a century later, can we claim that we are a civilized nation? Civilization is enhanced by increased levels of literacy rate. Millions of our civilians could not break beyond the standard eight mark. Only about a thousand out of a population of twelve million people can be admitted into the university every year. Our esteemed mothers travel long distances to access water. Electricity reaches less than 2 percent of the entire population of the country. We are yet to reach the peak of civilization in totality.

We could claim that we are civilized because we are a democratic society. But embroiled in many political maneuvers, manipulation, regional-based political support, is our democracy a civilized democracy? The answer is absolutely no.

We haven’t done that badly though. Our nation has enjoyed relative peace for decades. We have a generation growing up without seeing rebels brandishing guns. We transformed from autocratic regime to democracy peacefully. We have achieved food security. Those are remarkable steps made towards absolute civilization.

In trying to live the Livingstone dream, we have as a nation to embark on an economic and social revolution. The nation has to ensure that its citizens earn what can keep them alive for thirty working days. We can hardly expect tangible progress on the socio-economic front when millions of our people are paid as low as K3, 000.00 a month. We are proud to live in a generation that has seen no slave trade. But isn’t poverty worse than slave trade. Millions of our people live on less than 2 United States Dollars a day. They are shrouded in the bondage of the slavery of poverty.

We can realize the Livingstone dream if we can say along Dr. Martin Luther King Jr that “I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, equality and freedom for their spirits.”

It is impetrative that we develop the agriculture sector for secondary products exports to liberate from the meshes of poverty millions of Malawians who depend on farming. Let the government and the private sector establish cooperatives, equip them with appropriate resources, and challenge them to succeed. Malawi has good soil and plenty of water. If there is something Malawians know better then it is agriculture. If agriculture productivity is raised by thirty to fifty percent, it definitely can have a substantial increase on the GDP of the country.

We definitely have to revolutionize the way we do our trade. Our country has to start thinking big. I have the belief that the country can benefit a lot through selling cigarettes to international markets than tobacco leaf. Is it not possible for us to acquire loans from multilateral institutions and purchase machinery that could enable us process uranium and other mineral resources into finished products? Can’t we embark on exporting canned fish and beef? This can be the best means through which we can empower the fisherman along the lakeshore and the cattle herder from Nsanje or the northern part of Malawi to benefit from his trade. Is it not a setback to be importing tinned fish and canned beef, beans and other products when we have the capacity to produce our own and export?

One remarkable perspective in the Livingstone dream was his hardworking spirit. Perhaps one of the cancers eating productivity in Malawi is laisez faire attitude towards work. People report late for duties, knock early for lunch, return back late, and get more excuses to be out of office. The tendency of working for allowances is denting the spirit of hard working. It was hard work that saw Livingstone discovering Lake Ngami, Lake Malawi, Lake Bangweulu and Victoria Falls. As long us the mindset of our people has no drive to work for the development of mother Malawi, living the Livingstone dream would ever end up a dream. The public and private sector has much human potential capable of transforming this country. It only requires a little injection of dedication and patriotism to give out the best they can.

The country is awash with many professionals. They have the duty to lead the country towards the realization of the Livingstone dream. Health professionals must spearhead programmes meant to enhance delivery of health services to all the people; agriculturalists should champion the revolution of agriculture in the country; lawyers enhance the development and application of enabling laws that can preserve the dignity of every citizen; accountants ensure that financial resources are put to good use in the development of the nation. The list of professionals and what they can do in pursuit of fulfilling the Livingstone dream is endless. All, as citizens of our country, have the noble task of ensuring that the Livingstone dream is realized, no matter how long it may take.

Kamuzu's 'I am too bust to die' philosophy

2009-05-26T23:40:00.000-07:00

KAMUZU’S “I AM TOO BUSY TO DIE” PHILOSOPHY

Patrick Achitabwino

Among the words of Wisdom attributed to Ngwazi Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda that can be accessed on the Bulawayo 1872.com is the quote: ‘I am too busy to die.’ The only missing link is that the website only caught Kamuzu with that word of wisdom but doesn’t provide further information as to where the Malawi’s former leader said that. Beneath the caught one can read the passion that the former head of state, the father and founder of Malawi, had over development. One can easily say that the sentence is of equal margin to Mahatma Gandhi’s quote: work as if there is no tomorrow.

It is the ‘I am too busy to die’ concept that led to significant infrastructural, economic, academic, and social development of the country during the reign of Dr. Banda. It is the drive of that sentiment that made Dr. Banda always dream for excellence in all undertakings. It was the same belief that gave the Ngwazi a vision for future. The former leader did set the development pace for the country, the political agenda meant to transform masses of Malawi civilians from the meshes of abject poverty. It is no wonder then that among necessities that Dr. Banda considered of great value to Malawians were food, housing and shelter.

The best way to the future is through the past, so says the wise. Fifteen years after the reign of Dr. Banda it is time the nation learns to adopt his social policies to spearhead socio-economic development for the country. The nation will be justified to take an intrinsic look into what Kamuzu did better for the nation then replicate such ideologies and implement them. Having been led by Mchikumbe number 1 for 31 years, it is high time that our agricultural policies reflect that of Kamuzu to ensure that food is available for all Malawians.

The development of Malawi requires putting into effect the “I am too busy to die’ philosophy. This country requires a public sector that is highly motivated and patriotic to serve its people. Kamuzu ensured that the civil service becomes the backbone of development. In this democratic dispensation, the civil service has lost that scope. In many government offices, the level of discharging duties is at best mediocre. A new laziness syndrome called ‘work as you earn’ has eroded the pride of the civil service. But civil servants were not being paid millions during the reign of Dr. Banda. Civil servants then were driven by the motivation, hunger and desire to be part and parcel of national development.

It was the element of keeping the young generation too busy to die that led to the success of the youth Malawi Young Pioneers programmes. The development that was meant to equip the young generation with skills to enable them grow into productive citizens of the country was probably one of the best youth policies to be run in Southern Africa. The current generation, as it struggles to create jobs and other initiatives that can ensure self-reliance among youngsters, should look at the positive side of the Malawi Young Pioneers programme, replicate it then rescue millions of youngsters from the potential of becoming vagabonds.

Probably Dr. Banda could as well be interpreted as having tried to mean that he was too busy with developing the academic sector before he dies. Almost 95 percent or beyond of professionals that are doing good work for the country passed through colleges built by the regime of Dr. Banda. He did set an academic pace that the country needs to spearhead forward. As Malawi needs more and more multi-talented professionals to be the fulcrum of socio-economic development, so too does it need a massive investment in the academic sector: primary, secondary schools, and colleges.

In the drive to add great value to the credentials of our graduates, we need to recruit and retain highly qualified human resource better suited to impart relevant and appropriate knowledge in our students. Colleges during Dr. Banda’s regime had lecturers with impeccable credentials. As globalization puts the whole world in close scrutiny, we need to safeguard our qualifications and endeavour to equate them with the best renowned international academic qualifications. Dr. Banda knew that the future of any country lies in the development of the education sector. That is the philosophy we have to advance as well.

We have to look to the future in the words of Dr. Banda: ‘there is a future in Africa for all of us, for the majority and minority races and tribes.’ That is a noble call to the civilians of the country that in a bid to implement development agendas for the country, oneness should remain the key not tribalism and regionalism. As we cast our eyes forward, we are encouraged by the spirit of Dr. Banda to work hard as if there will be no tomorrow.

To err is human, so it is said and believed. The errors of today are the lessons of tomorrow. As we are commemoration the heroics of Malawi father and founder it is imperative that we look at all his perceived wrongs with a forgiving heart then learn that we ourselves never fall into the trap of commiting such errors.

It's all over my love

2009-05-26T23:39:00.000-07:00

IT’S ALL OVER MY LOVE

Patrick Achitabwino

Men, it has never pricked my embattled soul that one other moment shall dawn over my life when I will have to hate my home and seek solace in nearly the same environment that wrecked havoc over my soul: bottlestore.

Barman, give me a cold one and a round for these drunkards. Aaaah, mayiwathu, a plate of nyamayankhumba please. Just cut a K500 peace.

It is these mayiwathu guys, these beer carriers who keep our eyes busy with their tantalizing walks, balancing nyamayankhumba in one hand and bottles of beer in another, that have thrown spanners in the wheels of my love. They smile, yes the smiles that tease intoxicated minds of drunkards.

Men, I certainly believe that had you been in my shoes you could have totally agreed that what I am doing is sane. Just imagine, Towera, a sweet angel I have been dating for four years, all having been set to grace the altar in matrimony, has decided to abandon me.

Holy Christ, my zip has no discipline, Towera concluded deep in the marrows of her heart. I have no morals, no respect for love, and no thought over my future, Towera told me straight in the eye. Men, she boiled me in the hot pot of her anger. I tried to plead with her to give me a moment to explain but she was noncommittal. Immediately she called ankhoswe, bringing to a halt wedding preparations.

I have to clear the mist, lest you be deceived. I am mad guys because Towera is that type of ladies that can make guys crack their necks to breaking all just to cast a glimpse at her: dark in complexion, long-legged, hilly-hipped, after all what do you need in a beautiful woman.

So it is just a few minutes after 5am. How time flies, we have been imprisoning ourselves in this bottlestore since 10pm last night. Men, I have been trying to drink my sorrows down my stomach but they can sink no more. The more I try to forget them, the more Towera’s beaming visage ricochets in the walls of my brain.

Fellows, Towera has been my everything. There was a time my employers suspended me for two months. Reason? My bad habit of reporting for duties while drunk, and even sneaking out of office at times to guzzle a few bottles down the esophagus. During the period of my suspension on no pay, I survived because of Towera. She would bring to my house her pay slip and the whole pay itself then gave me the privilege of being the lord and master over her money.

Least your minds deceive you; Towera is not such a cheap monkey who roams on the street hunting for any drunkard. No, she is a respectable lady who drives her own Rav 4, daughter to a retired diplomat who resides in one of the posh flats in Namiwawa.

You see, this is the paradox of love. Despite all her well being she used to call me darling, one and only, sweet heart, you name it. She used to love me like I have never been loved before. I just recall that the first time we met was in the coachline on the way to Lilongwe. We shared seats. I stole a quick glance at her. She realized I was shy, then smiled.

You have never seen me stammering guys, no matter how drunk I am, but on that hour of grace I even stammered to mention my name. Towera loved calling me by my full name: Zondwayo Chiwalo. The way my name would dance at the tip of her tongue and scratch my eardrum, I can never tell.

Mayiwathu, yibwere nkhumba. Guys, I just think we are having a pork breakfast, isn’t it. Pork meat means no hangover. You can’t go wrong with pork meat and a few cold bottles. It is just like a strong wind that chases clouds away to provide a clear space through which the sun can light the earth.

Oh, thanks for driving me back to the right lane. Back to the issue, yes the issue at hand. This stupid Zondwayo told Towera Mulandu that he is a procurement clerk and was heading for Lilongwe to sort out arrangements for a board meeting scheduled to be held the next day.

Surprise men, surprise. Towera fished out a business card and handed it over to me. The card told me she was a brands manager for one of the car selling companies in the country. The designations written after her name were so many, call them. I…I…anyway, they are not relevant at this point in time. I just dipped my hand into my hip pocket, fish out a scrap paper then caricatured on it my phone number. She inserted it into her golden laced pace.

Men, this was the shortest journey I have ever traveled to Lilongwe. We finally said goodbye. We said we would meet again but little was I dreaming that we would ever meet again.

You should have seen how amazed I was a week later to see Towera snaking into my office. I nearly fainted. Actually, she said she had come to take me out for lunch at the hotel. Oh men, I took part in those so called business lunches at the hotel. I ate and ate and ate eeee. The way my tongue was licking the lips was more of a salivating dog. After all, I had earlier on escaped from the office to kill hangover with two bottles. Hunger was beating drums in my belly and the hotel food had to dance to the tunes.

The good thing I like with Towera is that she drinks a little. The moment that led to the beginning of our journey in love was the one that she took me to the sportsman’s bar for a few whisky glasses. It was right there, while whisky had knocked our brains down, that Towera told me that she was desperate for love. Actually she told me that she was ready to do anything to any man who would commit to live his life with her.

Men, who could not dream kutola nkhwangwa ndi mpini womwe. Call me a gold digger guys, call me what you want, but that was a once in a lifetime opportunity that poor Zondwayo, a resident of a rickety, roof-caving-in more of a toilet size bed-sitter in the impoverished Ntopwa in Bangwe, could not afford to slip through his fingers. You see guys, by then I had this other girlfriend, first born daughter to my landlord. Your guess is as well as mine; the following morning I lambasted the landlord’s daughter that she was not my type. After all, I had nothing to lose as Towera had to rent me a descent house in Nkolokosa a week later.

Men, what has made me mad, I say and please listen attentively, Towera told me that she wanted to have a feel of life at any of the bottlestores where I quench my beer thirst. I grabbed that an opportunity to take her to Mayi Nabanda pub down the stream down there. You see, I wanted those lunatics of girls who look you into the pocket with envy to see that I am not their type. You know them well guys, these worst robbers, mbava zoba powopseza ndi ntchafu.

That was a mistake guys, and I repeat, a worst mistake. No sooner had I alighted from the vehicle, hand in hand with Towera, than this other slim to the bone bitch pelted insults on me. Oh, guys, oh guys, she just yelled: Lero mwabwera ndi ena. Amwali alipiriretu ameneyo, kukonda ulele. I saw my heart flying out, my soul, my humanity, even my very self.

You should have thought it was a dream, another bitch bullied her buttocks in my front, yelling: lero ndipanga zainu. Ndikufuna zanga.

I looked at Towera. I looked at these night queens. I looked at myself then got lost into a sea of desperation. You see guys, Towera fished out K1000 from her purse, threw it at the …. forgive my tongue I am very angry, grabbed me by the neck and pulled me to the car. With anger written all over her face she told me that it was all over. Actually, with tears she told me: it’s all over my love.

I am lost guys as I am talking to you. Call me a fool; call me whatever you want, but that is what my stupidity has paid me. I just don’t know what I will tell my parents. I don’t know who is to pay my rent; I live in a house that is beyond my salary. Barman, beers please, more beers. I will just drink and die for I see no reason to remain alive in the absence of Towera.

Goodbye my love

2009-05-26T23:38:00.000-07:00

GOODBYE MY LOVE

Patrick Achitabwino

A thousand miles will tear us apart. We don’t know when we will meet again in a free world where love can be left to fly with its wings unsinged. The world is cruel Clara; we have seen the ugly face of it. Documentations have been written of innocent people leaving everything behind and get caged in tents in across-the-border countries as a result of war. People leave their impoverished countries and take the risks of staying in foreign lands illegally all just in a pursuit for economic survival. They are all refugees in one way or another. There is another worst and cruel type of refugeeing status the world is yet to document: leaving the land of your ancestors for a far away country where love can flourish.

The moment this bus ignites, whisking you away from my eyesight, hammering a distance inch by inch, I will be almost dead. Why me? Why you? Why us? Why has God closed his eyes on us? As I will be waving you goodbye I can see no tomorrow, for tomorrow I die, as my life without you is as well as dead. This moment then I have nothing to fear but unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, painfully, how others have played god over our love life. What we have experienced, oh, dear Clara, I pray that this bus doesn’t leave soon, has terrified angels, tormented our souls, and even destroyed the essence of humanity in us.

“I have a passport,” I told you the day we hatched our plan. “I will find some ganyu in town, keep any coin that passes through my hands till I raise enough money for transport to Joburg. There I will find you and secure a job, then we will live happily forever.

I saw a spring of tears cascading down your cheeks. Your heart must have been submerged in a torrent of tears. You held me firmly on your chest, the pounding power of your heart beating my ribs. We have lived a life without a choice. This darkest moment had to come and the hand of the clock has finally struck the dot of the hour. I have to say goodbye to you through the window of a bus.

Cry no more Clara, I can never forget you. By the grave of my grandmother I solemnly swear that you will always be on my mind. Since the first day that you flitted my eyes I have been seeing you not just as a living and breathing Clara Yakaya, but as the Clara of my dreams; not as an object of love but the reincarnation of love itself. I swear Clara, or even if it has to mean that I die so that you live, I am ready to take such a privilege with great honour and pleasure, in total reverence to your unparalleled love and beauty.

How love begins Clara, how love begins, you can’t tell. Do you remember that the first time we crossed paths was at the Shoprite? I recall that somebody snatched your bag. I heard you yelling for help, then like a threatened snake ready to bite I chased the bag-snatcher, knocked him down with a left as he was attempting to cross the highway then rescue your bag.

“Thank you very much,” you told me as you were fishing out some banknotes from the rescued handbag. I said no. I said I did not rescue your bag to be paid; I did it just to help. Actually, I recall having said: “sister, no, thanks.”

You see, I couldn’t recognise you that other day we met. When you yelled my name: Patrick Sache, I shook. I stopped then you sped into my embrace like an arrow. When you invited me for lunch I just said in my heart that praised be God. Honestly, I didn’t have a coin for lunch. I followed you blindly to the restaurant like a lamb led to the slaughter.

I was nervous as we were seated. You stepped your foot on mine and I looked you in the eyes, oh, it was as if they were seeing me deep in the heart. When I stretched my open hand towards you, you caressed the palm with your hand and that did send me crazy. Crazy, I really mean crazy.

“Your boyfriend must be the luckiest man born of a woman,” I admired.

I nearly shed tears when you told me that your heart had been torn apart twice with promises of broken love. Firstly, your father had wanted you to marry his friend’s son as a means of strengthening their business interests. That never worked out.

“I think it was all for money. I hate money. I hate rich people. They think money is equal to love,” you startled me. I looked at you; the angelic touch of your hand sending my soul into paradise then wondered how could guys afford to lose such a beauty.

Honestly, I don’t know what forces pulled our lips closer to each other; we kissed.

“I think I am in love with you,” you said.

Oh, dear me, an icy chill then run through my spine, a sense of insufferable anxiety oppressed me; a consuming curiosity pervaded my soul; and then sinking on the chair I remained for some time, I think, breathless and motionless, my eyes fixed at your beaming countenance. Something in your eyes told me that you and me were for real, that you would never leave me no matter the circumstances. The touch of your hand made a silent vow with mine that you would catch me whenever I fall.

Disaster was looming, Clara, disaster. One weekend we were waiting for a minibus at the stage, tyres of a poshy Mercedes benz screeched to a halt. I saw you shivering as your father bullied out of the vehicle. The strong muscled figure faced me in the eye and in no time his meaty hand gave me a strong warning with a thunderous slap.

“Dad, he is just a friend,” you screamed as he was shovelling you into his car.

Your father was not yet through with me. Two weeks later I bumped shoulders with him in the corridors of our offices. I coiled like a threatened millipede. He was just shouting, I can hardly recall what he said.

I paid the price the week that followed. I received a letter that the company was undergoing a restructuring process such that my services as a messenger were no longer needed. You saw the letter Clara, we actually could see the silent anger of your father beneath every word in the letter. Poor though I was born, that was the moment I learnt the arrogance of the rich.

Sometimes when I sit I ask myself, how did your father know where I stay. Remember the time you quarrelled with your father then escaped to my house? Your father came to my house with an impi of police personnel, knocking the termites-ravaged door open then forcefully pulled you out into the car.

“My daughter cannot live in this toilet,” he shouted.

I never told you this. That was the time I asked myself whether we the poor and the rich are children of the same God. Are the rich children of a larger God and we the poor of a lesser God?

Anyway, finally we had a chance to meet. We agreed that you will go to South Africa. We talked to your uncle who stays there. He actually said that when two hearts merge into one, no one should have the power to separate them. Thank God that my terminal benefits were enough to buy you a bus ticket and a few food stuff to keep you alive on the tiresome journey. I don’t know how your father will react the moment he notices that you are nowhere to be seen.

Go in peace my Clara. I have made a resolution; I will go to the tobacco plantations and become a tenant until I raise enough to enable me travel to Joburg. We will meet Clara, shed tears no more, all this pain is temporal. Remember that it is only when it is dark enough that you can see brightening stars…

How time flies my dear. See, the driver has rolled the engine, the tyres are jealously slowly and slowly robbing you off my sight. Of course from my sight you will be gone but in my mind you will always remain. Goodbye my love, until we meet again, I remain yours, Patrick Sache.

Forgive me my love

2009-05-26T23:35:00.000-07:00

FORGIVE ME MY LOVE

Patrick Achitabwino

Ciara my love, I humbly kneel before thee, though in this circumstance like a penitent before a priest shielded in a confession box. Ciara my love I know you can hear me; we are only curtained from each other by this wooden door. I can hear the pounding of your heart, smell the aroma of your Arabic scent, and see the flood of tears that is wiping away the debris of anger smeared over your heart.

Oh, thee my beloved, the only one God in his infinite wisdom saw worthy that I go to the altar with; I humbly say I am very sorry. I read the epoch of my shame in the newspaper, saw the severity of my infidelity on television, and to cap it all suspended at the office for giving wrong excuses for a wrong cause. Ciara, this is the moment that my life needs you most. You are the only shoulder that I can lean on.

Aaah, I have come back to my senses, please open the door to see the avalanche of tears cascading down my cheeks. Though I am walking on clutches, the distance from the stage to this your parental home could not erode my wish to talk to my beloved. See, Ciara, see; see the POP that has enveloped my foot up to the edge of the knee. I know it is a testimony of my betrayal.

Yes, a worst husband I have been. Yes, the worst of all the worst on earth. But Ciara in as much as I am evil to you my beloved, it doesn’t mean that my life cannot transform. Remember the story of the biblical Saul turned into Paul. Give me a chance I will turn into Paul, I swear, honestly, I swear. I have been on the road to Damascus like Saul. I have been blinded by scales like Saul. In my case the scales have been a road accident. I have changed Ciara, my life has changed, we need to go back home and live a happy life.

My rose flower you are the only one I can confess to. I am ready to tell you nothing but the truth. The girl you read about in the newspaper and even probably watch on TV being oxygenated has been my girlfriend for the past year and a half. Get me right when I say I confess, I really mean it. I am sorry that many a times I lied to you that I was going to this hotel or that for this workshop or that conference all just to have a license to escape from home and be with the girlfriend.

To begin the story from the very beginning, that is the beginning of the beginning, I firstly lied to my superiors at the office that I have to take three days leave to nurse my ailing father at the hospital. That having been granted I went on to inform you my beautiful wife that I would be out of home for three days attending a strategic plan workshop in Mangochi. I recall seeing your eyes going pale, not out of anger but love. I saw you and our beloved two little kids, Tinashe and Yolanda, waving me goodbye.

Ciara, it just happened that it was Towera’s birthday. Sorry, I didn’t tell you that her name is Towera Maweya. You see, we came across each other on the internet. You know, there are these many websites where people log in for online chats, seeking friends, and even partners. Let me make the point clear, I didn’t register on the site to hook up girls, no, absolutely not. Anyway, it just happened that I started having online chats with her, then next was exchanging phone numbers, oh, lord have mercy I ended inviting her for dinner at a hotel. What next? Your guess is as good as mine, we fell in love.

Sweetheart, I hope you can understand me and really understand me better. A man and a woman can’t be friends for long. You and I were at first just friends, then this other day, the magnetic forces of love pulled our lips together. It was that kiss that had the magic to whisk us to the alter four years later.

Anyway, back to the story. Some months later, I really can’t recall how many months later, and I pray that you understand me patiently and with a forgiving heart, Towera was pregnant. It didn’t matter whether I was responsible or not, what mattered is that I am a married man with two children. Actually she knows all that. She even knows the names and birth dates of our children. I know that sounds like giving too much, but no, I wanted her to appreciate that no matter her beauty, my life was committed to you and our two children. Ciara, I had no choice but to advise Towera to abort and she really did. In true sense, I didn’t want to have children outside our marriage.

Ciara, my journey with Towera started in Mulanje where we traced the banks of Likhubula river, swam in the Dziwelankhalamba dam. We then proceeded to Ntchentchere rock paintings where we admired rock marks inscribed by the akafula. Our next destination was Kasungu National Park. We did not reach it. The last thing I recall is that it was foggy and rainy in Dedza and the car started skidding.

“You will be okay,” a bald-headed spectacled doctor assured me. “You have had a blood transfusion and your foot is in POP. As for you wife she is in the intensive care with a deformed backbone. She will never be able to walk upright again.”

Ciara, I sighed a sigh of discomfiture. I thought of you and the children and what I would tell you. I called for newspapers next day morning only to see the car crash story making headlines. The worst visited me when I was trying to shift my attention from the story. I turned the TV on to listen to news, there the story was again, beaming with pictures of the damaged car, image of Towera being oxygenated and myself being stretchered into a hospital ward. You never came to see me. I reached home four days later only to find a deserted house and a note on which you said that you have suffered enough shame.

Ciara my beloved, Towera’s parents have sued me, my employers have suspended me for giving false reasons for my leave, and you have abandoned me. I can lose anything else but not you. Remember Ciara, remember, we have traveled from a distance in our love life. I know I have wounded your heart but whatever the case, no problem can tear apart the love that God blessed. Our children need our parental care. Ciara my love, please forgive me, forgive me my love. I have always been Mabvuto Chiwaya your husband and forever I will always be. Please just come out we have to go home. I have been kneeling on this door post for long, I am ready to remain kneeled for as long as it may take you to forgive me. Please, I can never leave this place without you.

Valentine

2007-03-06T03:31:00.000-08:00

VALENTINE

By

Patrick Achitabwino

A battered dirty pail lay desolate at a corner, leaning against a mosquito-blood smeared wall. It was dead hot and springs of urine were snaking over the rugged floor, meandering into all directions.

Maliko staggered as he fell onto the floor, the poisonous smell of sweat, human waste, and urine and armpits dogging his nostrils. The long arms of the law severed all ties of his liberty at a watering hole, just as he was guzzling one bottle of Carlsberg Green after another, letting the sour drink pour into his throat as if it was chasing with it all the problems of his life.

“You have a right to remain silent,” a muscular built police officer, bullet headed, warned him as a handcuff married his arms together. “Whatever you say will be used against you in a court of law.”

He thought of protesting but the moment the butt of a gun brushed his chest, all the energy and courage escaped. A charge sheet was read out to him at the police station. He was under police custody for unlawful wounding.

In the cell he was almost deaf. All the inmates were half naked, others dressed only in underwears, resting their skeletal bodies on the floor. A leader had to say ‘turn right’ and in unity they all did. The smell of the meal that was served bundled out all the interest of appetite in him. Weevils could be seen spicing the beans as the nsima was a step too close to porridge.

A pain in the chest crawled his mind to the genesis of the long journey. Zione, a slender, milk-teeth lady he had just engaged angrily bulleted her way into his office, tears cascading down her cheeks. She looked grossly unfamiliar, a total stranger, like a mad woman on the street who yells at passers by.

“Cheater, crook…,” she stammered as she was shivering with anger. She threw a newspaper on his desk then sped out of the office.

“Zio, please…,” Maliko had his hands elevated as if lost in the midst of a prayer. Zione was nowhere close for comfort.

He grabbed the phone then quickly dialed her.

“This marks the end… Thank you for all the pains, proceed with your valentine,” Zio said then hang the phone. He called her many a times and finally she switched off the phone.

He walked out of the office, loosened his neck tie, looked left then right. He started walking anyhow. He found himself at the rusty gate of Mapanga City Park. He strolled past it, paused a moment then proceeded. He could not even hear whistling birds that were chatting in the trees. All his life needed was to enter into the silence of the park, step over grassy springs, and look at the trees, the birds, the sky, hands in pockets.

“You said you love me but you lied,” faintingly he heard a voice from no where. He lazily opened his eyes, swung 360 degrees to trace the source of the voice, but there was nobody close. A salamander lizard stood on a tree nearby, gazing at him, nodding its head mockingly.

For a moment he thought of tearing the newspaper that was weighing his right hand down. He had met Lusubilo Machaka, the lady at the heart of the controversy, at a party at one of the hotels one night. They shared the same table. She was hilly buttocked with a golden bracelet on her right hand that was matching the long golden earrings. Glittering lipstick that debrissed her small lips brightened her bewitching smile. They talked of their professional life, personal life. They danced to the soft music, tight, shared glasses of wine. It was all love at first sight. They spent a romantic night together at her home.

He later started dribbling her calls. It was either he was busy or the phone was off. He told her straight in the face in her office that he had a girl friend he was engaging in a few days time. She challenged that she did not care of the other woman. Or even if they would be two women it would be fine with her.

She dropped a bomb a month later. She sent him an e-mail that she was pregnant.

“I am too young to impregnate a woman,” angrily he told her on the phone.
“Who told you,” she spat back venom.
“I underwent an operation when I was young and the doctor said I can never father a kid,” he was sweating.
“The doctor was wrong,” she cut the line.

Maliko called again but there was no response.

He thought of Zione, the first woman his life had ever loved. They had been in love for five years. They met in the second year at Chikangawa University. He was studying law as she was pursuing business administration.

She had always been kind to him even during the university days. The night he lost his mobile phone at one of the bottle stores in Chibanja township she surrendered hers to him. Her generosity climaxed the moment he lost his first job as an attorney with Luwinga and Company law firm. She used to give him half of her salary for the six months he was jobless. Their affair had blessings of parents of both sides.

Their engangement was colourful, held in the spacious multi purpose hall in Blantyre. Parents relived their youthful days, dancing to the envy of youngsters.

“Osatipangisa manyazi achimwene,” he could hear his mother ululating at the top of her voice. She was too excited a woman. For the first time in life, Maliko Butao saw his mother dressed in a trouser and his father in a skirt, white maize flour smeared in their heads. They tossed coins in the air, flapped paper banknotes right from the entrance of the hall up to the front where Maliko and Zione were carrying a basket.

A dread locked inmate awoke Maliko from the long train of his memories. He had a large scar on the forehead, just above the eye. His mouth smelled more tobacco as his teeth had lost the whiteness.

“Jah man, what crime did you commit man?” his language was punctuated with rastafarianism tones.

It was a custom, so Maliko was informed, that whenever a new inmate joins a cell, he confesses the crime committed to his colleagues.

He grabbed a newspaper that was in the right hand of the rasta then flipped the classified ads page. The page was littered with many valentine messages as it was Valentines Day.

“You see this name here?” he was pointing at the newspaper. “This is me.”

The inmates clustered around the newspaper to read about their new colleague. The message read: Maliko Butao, how can I thank God enough for having you in my life. You are more of a piece of gold found in the desert, a spring of joy in my life, a source of inspiration. For I would rather die than lose you. Let the world know that you are mine forever. I am proud to be three months pregnant of you. Lusubilo Machaka.

Maliko swore before his colleagues that Lusubilo had wrecked his life, that Zione had counted herself out of the cobweb of his romance.

“Jah man, does babylon arrest Jah people for impregnating girls?” the rasta aroused laughter in the cell, stabbing a hurriedly rolled cigar between his fat lips.

“You don’t understand rasta,” twin beads of tears rolled down his cheeks. “When Zione smashed the newspaper with the message on my desk I went mad, dead mad. I bought three bottles of bears, quickly drained them then drove to Lusibilo’s house. I smashed her with a bottle on the forehead. I left her bleeding and uncounscious. That is the crime I have committed.”

He knew he would lose his job. Being the programme manager for the Commission for the Advancement of the Rights of Women he had acted unethically. By hurting a woman he had rendered his job useless. His greatest worry was the media. Definitely, his story would be the lead article on the next day.

The SMS

2007-03-06T03:29:00.000-08:00

THE SMS
By
Patrick Achitabwino

Men, you can never be clever with these gadgets called cell phones. Nokia what, Motorolla what, they all come in different names, with a highly unimaginable power to break marriages at a lightening speed. Not even marriages built on the granite foundations of church oaths have the power to withstand the breaking power of mobile phones.

Imagine, come night I am a slave, praying incessantly that this ‘spare wheel’ whom I met where only the heavens know does not call. Principle number one, turn the phone off the soonest you are home. But I learnt a bitter lesson, the night my uncle passed away at Kumwamba hospital, none of my relatives could get me on my mobile phone. The stupid thing I did was turning it on in the morning when I was too thirsty for two cold ones only to be greeted with a funeral text. Turning phones off at night is bad, too bad men though we men are often left with no choice but to turn these gadgets off.

You see what, at times I believe that all men are fools, forgive my tongue if you are so honest a husband. You know, my neighbour, a grey-bearded school teacher, Che Jalasi had even to formulate and paste a commandment on the head board of his bed. He confided to me over a bottle of Kuche Kuche that it reads: my wife, never touch my phone without my consent.

This other night, my neighbour told me with a smoke stabbed in between his fat lips, that his wife tried to mess up with his phone. Oh, men, Che Jalasi went mad, for a week his tongue never tasted any food cooked by the hands of his wife, let alone bathing the water warned by her. The only thing they did as a family was going to church together on Sunday though they never talked to each other.

You see what, later I learnt that Lucy, my beloved wife for five years, and mother of our two lovely daughters, Ezelyn and Michelle, scans the inbox messages in my phone every night.

It was too hot this night, and by hot, I really mean too hot. I was sweating. I think the sky should have been sweating as well. And as if the sweltering hotness was not a stab in the rib, the rude call of nature threw me out of bed.

Men, guess what? Lucy was strong-eyed, my handset clasped in her hands. She had turned it on and by whose grace did she get the SIM card code I will perhaps leave never to know. I grabbed the phone off her hands. I noted her targets, firstly, messages received and sent; secondly, calls received; and thirdly, frequently called numbers.

I changed my style. If this spare wheel is named Chrissy, I would save her name as Chris or Gladys as Gladwell. I learnt the trick from this church elder friend of mine. These church elders, chat with them over a bottle of wine in some dark spaces, you will learn a lot.

As I sit, with my head buried in my trembling hands as an ostritch that buries its head in the sand, I curse the day I bought a mobile phone. For behold, the heaven is my witness, it has brought much miseries than joy in my life. You will shed tears with me, Lucy is never the same woman she used to be. She will never forgive me and I will never forgive myself.

It is with great pains that I recall what happened. This rude call of nature whisked me out of the house. You know these houses that are only graced with pit latrines. It was raining cats and dogs, as the threatening lightening and thunder kept many a people trembling.

Having relieved myself, I unsuccessfully dribbled past the pouring rain then sped into my house. The moment I stepped my feet into the house I realized something was wrong. Plates had been smashed down, pouring soup was snaking over the carpet. I gazed at my wife, tears were spiraling out of her eyes. She had my mobile phone in her right hand.

I wrestled the phone out of her hand then checked in coming calls so too the inbox. There was no any call received let alone a message. I wondered what broke hell loose. Having found no reason in my brain I rushed into the bedroom, hunger pelting my belly. I closed my eyes in a desperate attempt to woo sleep to catch me down but sleep was no where close.

Faintingly I heard a knock. It was the housemaid. “Madam is breathing restlessly,” she said. For a moment I hesitated. Lazily I walked to the sitting room only to find Lucy down on the floor, unconscious. I sprinkled water over her head but she was no closer to gaining consciousness. Michelle was just crying as there was nobody to breast fed her.

At over a hundred kilometers an hour I cruised to the referral hospital, tears welling in my eyes. White uniformed nurses ushered Lucy into the intensive care unit. For as long as I could remember I did not switch my phone off at night for the first time. I called many people than I can recall. I was there by her bed all night long. At the slightest moment she opened her eyes I smiled but she did not.

“Mr. Machaka,” a spectacled doctor with a stethoscope hanging around his neck stood calmly before me. “Your wife suffered a massive high blood pressure that led to minor stroke. I am afraid to say that the stroke has paralysed her limbs. We will offer her clutches so too a wheel chair.”

As tears spilled out my eyes, so too was Lucy in tears. She was waving me off her bed. She told me it was all over with me. She told me I had crippled all her life dreams. I told her she was the only one and that I could do anything to make her happy.

The morning that followed was a nightmare. Her parents thundered into the hospital, oozing with anger. Her dad shoveled me off the bed. I was lost. I was still unaware of the crime I had committed. Lucy called for my mobile phone and confidently I handed it to her. Then I saw her parents gathering around the phone. I knew something was wrong, their eyes turned blood red. Her dad threw it unto me and ordered me out of the hospital.

Reality caught with me, I had missed the messages outbox. The message that caused the predicament read: “I told you I made a wrong choice. You unmistakably have all the qualities for the woman of my dreams. I cannot wait for long to replace the woman I have with you. Just tell me when you are ready and thy will will be done. Sweetheart.”

God is my witness, I did not author the message. I am a victim of generosity. You know what, this other day I was having a cold one at Thirsty Pub a friend of mine requested to text his girlfriend through my phone. I knew the lady he was to text. She had totally wrecked havoc in his family.

Men, what can I do? Her parents have sworn never to see me. They took her to their home. All my calls are barred. I journeyed there this other day to confess that I was innocent but a flying panga knife missed my neck by the grace of the almighty. I have since stopped attending calls of these spare wheels let alone do I gather courage to propose to them. I am lost. I can not live without Lucy. Memories of the day we stood before the priest and vow that we would be together till death does us part are fresher in my mind. Dear friend, I only hope you will join me in prayer for truth to be out. These cell phones I will live never to treasure them.

Cost of love

2007-03-06T03:28:00.000-08:00

THE COST OF LOVE
By
Patrick Achitabwino

The moment the steel gate banged behind my back I knew it was goodbye to the outside world. A sea of eyes congested in an overcrowded cell was tearing me apart. A pungent smell of urine in conspiracy with shit fleeing from the overflooded leadless pot dumped at a corner gave my nostrils the greeting of the cell.

For five years, five solid years, I have to live in this overcrowded cell, see death face to face, struggle with scabies and live on a weeviled-beans meal a day. But why only five years? I am shaking my hornless head. Why was the magistrate so unfair with me so as not to sentence me to life imprisonment? After all, I have nothing to lose; I have had enough of the sorrows of the outside world.

The image of Suzika still lurks at the back of my mind. She had the eyes that defied darkness, sparkling at night. Her round taxina-bottom swayed backwards many a necks of men along the streets. I recall with laughter one day along the streets when vendors nearly provoked her anger. As she was passing by they sung …mainjekishoni akulera…dibwiriyo, dibwiriyo…

We had been married for a year and she had not been blessed to visit the maternity ward any day sooner. What started as a mere stomachache one evening proved fatal and costly to our affair. Doctors diagnosed her with cancer of the womb. She had to be operated, they insisted.

The moment the prosecutor asked me to confess guilty or not guilty, the Chief Executive of Mayoka Town Assembly was astonished to see me pleading not guilty. I was not guilty, I could not be guilty and I will live never to acknowledge that I was guilty.

As I was standing in the dock, face to face with him as a principal witness of the state I drew him back to the morning I banged into his office, sweat dripping on my forehead. I asked him if I had not told him that my wife was wrestling with death at Mangani Private Clinic? That she would not survive if I would not get money to pay for her operation?

The Chief Executive, Che Jalasi as we all used to call him at the office, told the court that the conditions of service of the assembly do not provide for loans in excess of the K100 000 I had requested to people of my grade.

I reminded him that this was a case of life and death. I told him that conditions of service are mere words written by people. I had even challenged him in front of his desk at the assembly, my fist banging the desk, that by public demand a constitution gets amended then how special was a mere conditions of service.

The magistrate, grey haired with his eyes curtained by sunglasses lifted the gravel and hit his table several times to control my temper. They were accusing me of stealing K100 000 from my office. I did not steal, I insisted, on humanitarian grounds I took the money to save the life of my wife.

Infact the day Che Jalasi denied me a loan I rushed to the hospital only to find my wife on a life-supporting machine. She gazed at me once as if saying “why my darling, why not saving my life?”

I recalled that it was the month end and that people had paid rentals to the assembly and to make matters far much better I was the controller of the coffers of the assembly. Early morning I rushed to the office, opened the safe and took K100 000 then rush to the hospital.

“You will have an operation,” I assured my wife. I saw Suzika smiling as nurses were driving her on a stretcher to the theatre.

I kept waiting outside the theatre, fingering my rosary for divine intervention. I could visualize the medical personnel scissoring the belly of my wife, removing the cancerous part, suturing the wounds and driving her out to me. But all that was mere thinking.

A stampede of armed police personnel drove me out of the long train of thoughts. I was under arrest, they told me. I told them the arrest had to wait, the life of my wife was more valuable than the might of the handcuffs. They could not reason. They had much power in their long guns.

“Bayisoni Mayikolo, you will be charged for stealing public money,” a tall CID officer told me at the police station.

“Correction,” I told him. “You will charge me for saving the life of my wife. The only crime I have committed is to come to the rescue of my dying wife”

A band of police officers were astonished, I could read that on their faces. They ushered me into the remand cell that smelt blood. One of the remandees was shot in the leg in a shoot out with the police. He was an armed robber.

A bomb caught me while I was in that cell. A policewoman unbolted the steel gate and took me into another office. God forbid, filled with sympathy she let the cut out of the bag, Suzika was no more.

“Amen..amen…” I had nothing more to say.

In the courtroom the double-edged sword of justice, if indeed it is just, was at the blink of chopping my head.

“Before I pass judgement do you have anything to say?” the magistrate asked me.

I nodded my head and said no.

“You are therefore convicted of theft by public servant…”

I cut the magistrate short. “Objection my lord, convicted of theft by love servant…”

The magistrate hammered the gravel on his table. “Theft by public servant, and I am therefore sentencing you to…”

I could not hear the judgement as I was arguing with him that it was theft by love servant. Finally prison warders led me to this prison. I have no regrets. Suzika is dead and let me pay the cost of loving her dearly. ENDS

Only for love

2007-03-06T03:26:00.000-08:00

ONLY FOR LOVE

By

Patrick Achitabwino

The day we met I was seated under a large acacia tree, my head leaning on my knees. Tears had stopped flowing out of my eyes, they were springing their way into my heart where only my blood could see them.

A crumpled piece of paper laid on the ground. The message was clear: the family of Nyamazaini is inviting friends and relatives to the wedding of their only son, Gracious to Ziolire Sokonombwe…As if that was not enough, Billy’s pumpkin head laid on the side of Ziolire’s on the photo.

I had called Gracious, unbelievably his voice sounded far much distant, barren from the love that it used to evaporate. We fell in love by coincidence, he had told me. He lost interest in me long enough than he could remember. My heart had grown deaf. I cannot recall anything he said. I only recall the phone clicking as it went dead.

I felt a tap on my shoulder as I reluctantly lifted my head up. A zoo attendant who later told me his name was Tiyanjana had squatted. He saw the marks drawn on my cheeks by a flood of tears.

His mother had told him never to cry, Tiyanjana told me. Crying would not solve my problems. It was not the end of my life.

I felt the broken pieces of love being mended in my heart. He embraced me and I felt the warmth of his chest. Whatever was it that was killing my heart, he reassured me, he was very sorry.

Tiyanjana told me he believed there is always time for everything. His mother died when he was young. His father married another woman who chased him away. He grew up along the streets until an orphans care center offered him solace.

He told me he acquired his school certificate and later on became a zoo attendant. I narrated to him the successes of my father as a businessman. I told him a betraying boyfriend wounded my heart. He sympathised with me and told me that the betrayer was not the one the Almighty had chosen for me.

I felt Tiyanjana felt the pains razoring my heart. He had suffered the same pains. The mother of the girl he had fallen in love with could not accept him for a son-in-law. He was told point blank that over her dead body, she could not accept a man who is not a graduate to marry her daughter. That was the point where love and money crossed paths as he told me.

I saw him again in the supermarket. He saw me. We saw each other. Our eyes twinkled at the joy of meeting again. We all waited and searched for words to say but the words refused to come.

I recall the Friday I went to the zoo happily again. Firstly, the hug was wonderful. There was a look in his eyes that seem to tell him that I would succumb to the weight of his love. One thing was clear, he was only waiting for the moment my knees of love would collapse. I was waiting too. My heart was waiting.

He told me he felt comfortable when I am around. He told me I make the world a good heaven for him.

The words tore my heart deeper than a razor blade. Aren’t razor blades better? For they cut where you can see but words cut where you cannot see. We hugged and I closed my eyes as the bar magnets of love pulled our lips closer. I felt being loved again. I felt what is it to be in the hands of a loving boyfriend.

I am the reason he would live in this life for, he assured me. If it was not for him, I would not have fallen in love again, I too confessed.

But fate lied a few centimetres away from us. My parents chased him when he came home to see me. I fled home for him. I was more comfortable in his bed-sitter house, a smokey-lamp made of a kerosene bottle sprouting a yellow light. For the first time I learnt what a nuisance rats can be. They kept chatting, chasing each other and even tasting our toes. It rained for a few minutes and some astray raindrops tore their way into the house. We held each other at the corner but still I had found the happiness I could not get in my fathers house.

At this time TVs did not matter, DVD was a vocabularly forgotten. I was more comfortable having supper on a mat and sitting on a chopped log turned into a small chair. I loved his trust. I loved his honesty.

My parents came two days later oozing anger. They whisked me into the Mercedes benz. I was crying. I saw Tiyanjana crying. I told my parents it was only for love that I was with Tiyanjana and that not even death could part me away from him

What did I know about death, about life, about love, to mention death and love in one mouth? My mother had fumed as dad was breathing angrily. They ordered a watch guard that I should not be allowed to walk out of the house, not even to be visited by anyone. I was ordered not to answer any phone call.

Four days later I escaped to the zoo only to be told that he has not been reporting for duties. I rushed to his home and his neighbour told me he had been admitted at Chitakale hospital the last night. I went there only to find him moaning all alone in bed.

Tiyanjana told me that since I left his home he resorted to bear drinking to kill the sorrows. He said he could not remember where he had been attacked at night. Worse still, the attackers had dismembered him and other passers by rescued him. He had been to the theatre but the damage was too severe that he would never be a man again. I cried. He told me never to cry. He said God would give me another good guy. I said no, not any other except him.

I saw papa and mama stampeding in like soldiers in a fierce combat. I beg you papa, I reasoned with him, take him to the private hospital. He looked at us, Tiyanjana was shivering with fear. Papa talked to a doctor at a corner for a few minutes.

I cannot love a man who is not a man to take my daughter for a wife, he shouted at me. With tears spiralling down my cheeks I told him that a man is one who cares for a woman. A man is not a man because of children. A man is a man because of the passion he has for his wife.

The watchman dragged me out of the ward into the vehicle. I am now a prisoner at home. Love is in a cage. I am still waiting for the day I will escape to be with Tiyanjana again. We will meet and escape to lands where love is left free and we would reminiscence over the past with laughter. Then I will no longer be Ezelyn Sabola. I will be Mrs Ezelyn Tiyanjana Tchete. Only for love I love him.

Just for love - short story

2007-03-06T03:25:00.000-08:00

JUST FOR LOVE
By

Patrick Achitabwino

Thank you for taking a sit, mama. Beauty screamed at my door that Saturday morning. No sooner had I bolted the door open than she fell in. She was almost breathless.

“Robbers have shot dad in the ribs last night,” she told me amid sobs as a volcano of tears broke loose out of the chains of her eyes. As I held her on my bare chest, I felt her warm tears cascading down my ribs. She was frail. Her dad was still unconscious at Malingamoyo Private hospital.

There was literally no drop of water in my house. Saliva had gathered its army in my mouth and I could feel the sourness. The closest water kiosk had bursted. The only water hope was the borehole a number of football grounds away, just behind the house of the headman.

You know Mbayani mama. Twice you were lost the last time you visited me. You take this way only to find that it goes straight into the toilet of somebody. You return back and you are lost. The way is just after the toilet. Just dribble past its corner you note that the path continues.

The sad story is that her father did not survive the killing power of the bullet. When we went to the hospital we found nurses coating his body in white sheets. We all cried. Imagine, I was just in a pair of slippers, hair completely unkempt, mouth unbrushed. Beauty’s relatives who were at the hospital seem completely disgusted of my presence. But she clung to me like a little kangaroo in its mother’s pouch.

You see papa, her father was a prosperous businessman living in the wealthy people Mount Pleasant area. He owned a number of vehicles. Mr. Maluwa, a stocky-built man, with a forest of beard lost his wife through an accident many years past, just when Beauty was young. She was the only hope he had.

Anyway, only God knows where I was going when I met Beauty. It was a cool Sunday afternoon. A scrappy vehicle with its lights set on full hit her along the Kamuzu highway. The vehicle sped away. I saw her falling, rolling several times on the tarmac road. I was just too close and I rushed to see her. She had fainted. I stopped a vehicle, thank God the driver was kind to take us to Queen Elizabeth hospital. Her mobile phone kept calling but I did not know how to operate it.

Mama, you should have been there to see how delighted I was the soonest her eyelids parted open. I was afraid that if she dies, I could not have known where to go with her corpse, let alone who to call. She smiled, I smiled. I told her we were at the hospital. I looked at the fairness of her skin, it was more babysh.

“Thank you for saving me,” her accent was too English. She could not complete a mere sentence without infusing it with the Queens language. With the little JC I have I was able to grab a few words she used to spice her speeches with.

“What’s your name,” she asked me in English as well.

“My name is Matiki Mayilosi,” I stammered a little English.

Beauty called her father on her cell phone. In no moment I heard tyres screeching outside the hospital ward. His feet walked lazily against the floor like a slithering snake. The aroma of the smell of his perfume engulfed every part of my nostrils. I itched, honestly I did. She told him everything. He shook my hand, and it smelled perfume even after the hand shake.

“Thank you young man,” he said as he was fishing out a cheque book out of his breast pocket.

“Your name, please?”

I responded.

“Get this K20 000 cheque”

I confessed frankly that I had never stepped my feet in the bank. I do not have an ID to help me cash the cheque. He went into his car only to come back with three bundles of money. Each bundle comprised K10 000 of K500 notes. Mama, never in life before had I ever been blessed to grab such a huge amount of money in my hands. I trembled. I tried squeezing them in my socks but the money was just too much. I thought of buying a paper bag, put tomato in it so that pick pockets would not rob me.

Beauty and I became friends. Close friends. She bought me a cell phone. We fell in love mama.

You see what ma, gossipers rushed to her father. He called us together and said he had no problems as long as it was for real. I confessed it was, so too Beauty did. But she was completing her studies at one of the colleges in town. Mr. Maluwa said we should not go too fast until she completes her studies. He gave me a K100 000 to start business as I was jobless. That was how I ended up shifting from Mbayani to Soche East. My business is doing well.

I know you will be amazed to hear this. Robbers who shot dead my father-in-law were arrested. Beauty was a witness, we were all together. She told the packed court that on the night the attack happened, the five robbers broke the main door and demanded money from her father at gun point. He told them he had no money then they shot him. The most sad thing is that they gang raped her. Medical examinations confirmed the rape. Far much worse, three of the five bandits tested HIV positive.

“For shooting a victim dead and infecting a girl with HIV/AIDS I am sentencing you to death by hanging,” the magistrate ruled.

Pa, ma, I beg you to hear my story patiently. I am the only person Beauty can lean a shoulder on. Her father’s relatives confiscated everything from her home. They even sent her to the village. All her dreams were doomed.

She came home crying. Despite the AIDS threat I still love her. I know my love for her is the highway to death. Ma. Pa, should I not sacrifice for love? Please do not change your faces. Sindinadye mchira wa buluzi. It is only just for love that I love her. No woman in life has ever loved me the way Beauty does. People are dying of road accidents, malaria, floods, and does AIDS make any difference? After all we can live together for twenty years or more. Who knows, perhaps a cure might be found. May be the many stories of Chambe, Malawi Mix, whatever are prophecies of better days to come, the days AIDS shall be like any other curable disease.

Thank you for being attentive. I only pray that you be on my side. I love her, she loves me, we love each other. Not even the threat of death can separate us. END

Insured romance - a short story

2007-03-06T03:23:00.000-08:00

INSURED ROMANCE
By
Patrick Achitabwino

Monday night. The hand of the clock pointed 8:49. Malikebu dragged his feet on the floor like the belly of a snake slithering its way into the bush. He forced his way into Zolozolo police station. It is an emergency, he told the police.

The last time he had seen Diandra, his wife for seven months was over the lunch hour at home. They talked of the war in Iraq, saw Charles Taylor in court in Siera leone courtesy of CNN news. She would drive to the hair saloon later in the afternoon, Diandra had told him as he was leaving for office.

“My wife has gone missing,” he told the police. “She cannot be contacted even on her mobile phone.”

Tuesday morning. As Malikebu drove to Bakodaya private mortuary deep in the city centre of Mangani city he stole a glance at the front page of the Daily Post newspaper. Woman murdered in a car ambush, read the headline. The Post had quoted the police PRO as saying that a woman identified as Diandra Malikebu was found shot dead in her vehicle in the outskirts of Minimini Township.

According to the publicist, the alleged car hijackers abandoned the vehicle after it had run out of fuel and they shot the victim dead.

He found the women’s choir at the mortuary. Reverend Makoka embraced him as he told him not to lose hope in God. The will of God is difficult to understand. It could not be as much more difficult as now. Diandra was the third wife in two years. Hurting so much was that all his wives had departed from the world through tragic circumstances.

Mellina was the first lady to insert a matrimonial ring on his finger. He was then an emerging businessman. Malikebu Stationery and Printers was just blossoming. Four months after the big day, fate skidded into his house. She was burnt in the house, reportedly due to an electrical fault while he was on a business trip to Mangochi.

Sopano awupeza moyo…kuli mtanda wayesu…sopano awupeza moyo, the choir sung as pallbearers were lifting the coffin carrying the remains of Diandra into a vehicle.

Malikebu had seen deaths. He had seen coffins. Alicia, his second wife of four months died in a vehicle that caught fire as she was igniting it on.

“Dust to dust, ashes to ashes,” reverend Makoka said as the coffin carrying the remains of Diandra were being lowered for eternal rest. Malikebu saw his love being robed off his sight by mere soil. Twin beads of tears broke from the chains at the edges of his eyes as they dribbled down on his cheeks.

“We have lost a hard worker, we have lost a firm believer in Christ,” the reverend consoled Malikebu as he was leading him to his vehicle.
The Malikebu family was well known as die-hard believers. Be it a big walk to raise funds for the church, the family would always be there. They majored in tithing. They could buy a choir a uniform, purchase cement to enhance developments at the church not forgetting sponsoring activities meant to fundraise for church projects.

Diandra was an active member of the women’s choir, women’s charity group, Children of God Orphanage Center and Women in Church Development. Malikebu was a church elder, chairman of the development committee, treasure of the church committee, and a patron of the youth wing of the church called Soldiers of Christ.

The night that followed the burial of Diandra became a nightmare in the life of Malikebu. He bursted his way out of the house, dressed in only underwear, screaming. A watch guard grabbed him as he fell down.

“Munthu akundithamangitsa,” he told the watchman.

The guard skidded into the house, searched all the rooms and found nobody. He grabbed the boss by the hand and led him into the sitting room.

“It must have been a bad dream,” the guard told him.

Malikebu stabbed his legs into a trouser and stuffed his hairy belly into a white t-shirt as the guard was walking out. It did not take him an hour in the house to scamper out again and dump himself into a car.

“Call the police,” he shouted at the guard as he was driving off.

Reverend Makoka was awed when Malikebu’s vehicle screeched at his door step.

“Pastor, pastor,” he was screaming as he was hurrying into the pastor’s house. “Pray pastor, pray…”

Reverend Makoka saw Malikebu lying on the ground, his face buried in the carpet. His wife joined him in prayer. Later on they showed Malikebu a room where he had to sleep.

Hardly half an hour elapsed than he rumbled out of the room, screaming. The pastor held him, prayed once more and gave him a bible to read in his room until sleep caught up with him.

The pastor and his family awoke in the morning but Malikebu shown no signs of being awake. They knocked on his door to wake him up for a morning prayer but he could not open. Reverend forced the door open only to see Malikebu hanging to the roof. He had hanged himself using a rope that was in the room on which people could hang their clothes.

The bible was still open on the pillow. On the last blank page of the bible was his final message and it read:

Pastor,

It is better to die in the house of the man of God. I am sorry for any shame my death would cause to the servants of God. I had no choice but to end my life this way.

Since the burial of Diandra, I have never had a moment of peace. In my house, the ghosts of Mellisa, Alicia and Diandra assaulted me accusing me of killing them. I escaped into your house but the ordeal continued. They said I would never find peace in my life.

Bear with me Pastor, the ghosts have all the reasons to accuse me. I used to insure every one of them for millions of kwachas that I ended up collecting from insurance agencies. Their deaths were all staged. Pray dear pastor that my soul may rest in peace.

Malikebu

Libraries and National Development

2007-03-06T03:18:00.000-08:00

LIBRARIES AND NATIONAL DEVELOPMENT

By

Patrick Achitabwino

Information and a conducive environment of its free flow is a vital tool in all forms of human endeavour. It is the link pin of national development. For a nation to develop it needs to have and provide relevant, updated and adequate information on food security, health, democracy, population, education, family planning, youth empowerment, gender equality, environment etc. Libraries are there for proper management, provision and dissemination of such information.

Paul Tiyambe Zeleza in the article The dynamics of book and library development in Anglophone Africa emphasised that books and libraries form crucial repositories of knowledge and information accumulated over time, so that to have access to them is to enter an ongoing intellectual conversation within and between societies and generations, and partake in the immense heritage of human social thought,

Information is power and power belongs to the people. Information is a vehicle that drives people to a better understanding that in turn induces sound judgement and decision-making.

It is irrefutable fact that libraries are a pivotal point in democracy promotion and socio-economic development in a country. Dickson Vuwa Phiri argues that for democratic processes to make sense, those that govern must be aware of the needs of those that are governed, whatever or wherever they are. To articulate such awareness, politicians and electorates must be provided with information relating to democracy, human rights and, the rule of law.

Nancy Kranich agrees when she said that libraries are the corner stone of democracy in our communities because they assist the public in locating a diversity of resources and in developing the information literacy skills necessary to become responsible, informed citizens who can participate in our democracy.

Even president Franklin Roosevelt during the Second World war when the future of democracy was much in question told the nation that libraries are essential to the functioning of a democratic society…Libraries are the greatest symbols of the freedom of the mind.

Information promotes and empowers citizens participation in the democratic process; it maintains the rule of law and creates a viable outlet for the injection of public opinion. Information informs the policy-making process of political leadership, all of which nurtures the building of sustainable peace for the enhancement of the state.

Libraries play a vital role in the health sector. A vibrant health sector needs a well-documented and organised health information meant for dissemination to users and potential users in order to consolidate health records, planning and management. Libraries provide people with appropriate information on diseases and prevention measures, health care, side effects of premarital affairs, dangers of early pregnancies and any other health related information.

According to S. Mapasure of Standards Association of Zimbabwe, in Zimbabwe were introduced Drug Information Centers and National Diabetes Information Clearing House that in the end minimised the misconceptions people had on drugs and diabetes. With the HIV/AIDS pandemic retarding socio-economic developments in our nation, measures to avoid the scourge and the enhancement of behaviour change can yield a positive impact if information on such issues was accessible to rural masses through rural libraries.

It goes without saying that rapid population increase impedes development. Libraries face the challenging task of being reliable reservoirs of information pertaining to problems associated with population increases. Land degradation, food shortages, deforestation, drying rivers, drought, urban migration, unemployment, rising prices, increasing poverty and diseases are all side effects of rapid population growth. As long as people are informed of such pertinent issues through their local libraries, the trend is likely to reverse. The world belongs to the living, so writes Thomas Jefferson.

Libraries play a great role in national development through the support they offer to the education sector. It is an irrefutable fact that without libraries there as well can be no universities hence the creation of professionals' drought. All professionals, whether graduates or not, are capable of utilising their skills through the knowledge they acquired through books and the internet in libraries. Lawyers safeguard the flow of justice and foster constitutional developments; teachers support literacy campaigns; doctors support health issues, the list is endless. All those are products of information dissemination progress through different libraries.

John Abdul Kargbo argues that experience has shown that a country’s educational system could be as strong and as weak as the library resources that support that system.

The National Library Service has been championing the provision of relevant information materials to different communities through the establishment of rural libraries with the element of supporting adult literacy as well as helping in the establishment of an informed society in Malawi. Through such small libraries, people who were deprived of information are now capable of reading and writing. High above all, having come across a wide range of information pertaining to issues affecting their societies, they have been able to make informed decisions that have been helping in implementing socio-economic growth.

Kigongo-Bukenya of the Makerere University in his presentation at the Standing Conference of the Eastern, Central and Southern Africa Librarians, SCECSAL XI, meeting argued that information for literacy arms the masses themselves completely to see their own needs and problems and discuss means of solving them. What is worthy noting is that for information to have a broad outreach, libraries must be there.

For a nation like Malawi that has an agricultural dependent economy, the need for management and provision of agricultural information to communities and individuals is necessary. Malawi require libraries that provide agricultural information which should be accessible to policy makers, researchers, extension workers, students and the communities as a positive step towards improving the declining food security in the country. Agriculture is the backbone of the Malawi nation and we need libraries that can be harnessing information on marketable crops, agri-business, agri-economics, diversion of crops, diseases affecting crops, farming methods, irrigation, etc.

The world is now geared towards industrialisation. However, industries can hardly develop without relevant information on prospects and challenges. There is therefore, writes Noel Shillinglaw and Wanda Thomas in the book The Information society, a need for professionally managed libraries at work places if total quality is to be achieved, because apart from making the information that enables decision making timely available, libraries also contribute significantly to staff development.

As competition in business stiffens and economic instability keeps threatening the nation, investors need information to develop suitable business strategies. In general terms they need libraries that can provide them information on economic data, import and export figures, changes in foreign exchange rate, inflation rate, as well as salary figures. The business community needs librarians that would be harnessing information on the cost of living, worker productivity, costs of machinery, changes in international treaties, domestic consumption and production, communication, infrastructure, labour laws, etc.

The role of libraries in promoting the marketing of the tourism sector cannot be underestimated. Libraries as reservoirs of information are the most reliable information reference centers where tourists can seek information on hotels, motels, national parks, mountains and other interesting places.

Unfortunately, at present, the greatest barrier to information provision by libraries to promote democracy and socio-economic issues is high illiteracy rate. Most information is in print and over half of the population of Malawians cannot read and write. Justin Kiyimba went on to say that coupled with illiteracy is the fact that even those who can read and write have little interest in reading.

Other barriers include lack of trained personnel in librarianship, lack of resources, financial constraints, inadequate library services, poor distribution network of libraries, lack of viable publishing industry that can be publishing and providing survey reports, workshop reports, etc on local democratic and socio-economic issues.

In a general perspective, as the UNESCO Draft Medium term plan 1984 n- 89, puts it, individuals and communities must be provided the knowledge and know how that will awaken them to the projects open to them, and above all, enable them to act more effectively themselves in improving productivity, hygiene, health and general living conditions and on exercising their civic rights. But the central point where information can be harnessed, accessed and disseminated is the library. If effectively used and supported, libraries can promote democracy and socio-economic developments in the country. No nation prospers without information and no information can be properly managed and disseminated without libraries and librarians. ENDS

Koma Croc: A crocodiles' paradise

2007-03-06T03:14:00.000-08:00

KOMA CROC: A CROCODILES’ PARADISE

By

Patrick Achitabwino

What comes to mind when people think of Mangochi is the azure Lake Malawi and Malawi’s pride, Chambo fish. The current strong advocacy for turning Mangochi into a tourism haven in a bid to turn tourism into Malawi’s gold has heavily been based on the presence of Lake Malawi and its wonderful shores highly spiced with numerous holiday resorts.

A trip to Koma Croc will let you realize that Mangochi has more to offer beyond the lake and delicious Chambo fish. Ever heard of anywhere in the country where the most feared animals, crocodiles, are bred for tourism? Koma Croc is the place. A single trip to the place will assure you that Malawi has more to offer in the tourism sector than meets the eye. Perhaps we only lack the vision, will and desire to diversify our minds.

The crocodiles’ haven is almost 25 kilometers away from Mangochi boma towards Monkey bay. A few kilometers before reaching a path to Lake Malawi National Park is a sign post written “Koma Croc” pointing a dusty road to the right that snakes through the edge of a hill. It is that road that leads to the amazing land of crocodiles.

The place looks more deserted with a few buildings. A single glance at the office of the Koma Croc is enough to tell you that you have dared to visit crocodiles in their territory. On the wall is nailed a skin of a slained crocodile.

Cast your eyes on a large tree close to the office; you will be assured that perhaps some crocodile hunters once challenged the mighty crocodiles. There is also nailed another skin of a crocodile, a rare sight indeed.

The adventure starts with a payment of K50 per head. You will not walk anyhow. The office has a guide, who for stage one will take you to a waist-high, roofless building. It has a small dam within. You stand by the waist-high wall as he courageously jumps into the building. Small crocodiles gather in groups, basking in the sun.

Drama begins when the tour guide gathers courage to challenge any of the small crocodiles. He is trained to catch them, perhaps the making of our own “Malawian crocodile hunter”. He provokes one small crocodile with a stick then it jumps towards it and as it falls to the ground he slightly pins it down to the ground with the stick around its neck. It wriggles its head and tail powerlessly. Next, he grabs it by the mouth and tail then takes it close to you. Finally he throws it back into the little dam.

“If that has to bite you, it can not cause great harm,” he assured me though I could not be that courageous to follow suit.

The next destination is some cages where middle sized crocodiles are kept. Perhaps they are then grown up into more lethal animals, he dares not touching any of them, let alone stepping into their cage.

Finally you are taken into a large building, over two meters high, roofless. In it large crocodiles are in different compartments. There is one pavement for visitors to walk through in admiration of the crocodiles. The pavement is separated from the crocodiles with wire fences.

You see large crocodiles basking in the sun, others swimming lazily in the dams within. It excites to learn some tricks crocodiles use to catch their prey. I saw a crocodile with its eyes closed, mouth agape. You might think it is dead.

“Its mouth stinks,” the guide told me and my colleagues. “That’s why you can see all those houseflies flying into its mouth.”

A crocodiles is clever, once many houseflies fill its mouth, it closes it and swallows them. The trick continues over and over.

But just as many tourism places are in the country, the crocodile farm needs a face lift. It must be highly cared for to attract the attention of tourists. With the Blantyre zoo existing in history books, if well cared for and publicized, the Koma Croc can be the best place where families might be going for a closer look at the fearsome animals. It can also be a good place for educational visits.

Author is Membership Services Officer for the Society of Accountants in Malawi (SOCAM) in Blantyre

Fraud: a thorn in the Malawi Economy

2007-03-06T03:10:00.000-08:00

FRAUD: A THORN IN THE MALAWI ECONOMY
By
Patrick Achitabwino

The unprecedented rate at which fraud is creeping its way into the Malawi economy is suicidal as the nation risks being nailed on the cross of poverty. A Kenyan conman was recently arrested in Lilongwe for operating a fake NGO that has swindled poor Malawians of their hard earned money.

It has now ceased surprising to hear that employees of company A or B have been arrested for fraudulent activities in excess of millions of kwachas. Newspapers are easily flooded with adverts about people who are on the run and that whosoever would give information leading to their arrest would be rewarded thousands of kwachas.

Fraud has become a rabbied dog that is viciously crippling the already weak economy of the country. The worst danger lies in the sense that most fraudsters are usually people in positions held in high esteem such that it is unthinkable that they might be involved in such malpractices.

Winnie Madikizela-Mandela - a potent symbol of resistance during the South Africa’s apartheid system – who was known as the ‘mother of the nation’ by her many supporters, but disparaged as the ‘mugger of the nation’ by her detractors, was convicted of fraud.

Madikizela-Mandela, a lawmaker, was found guilty of 43 charges of fraud and 25 of theft. Addy Moolman, her financial advisor, was found guilty of 58 counts of fraud and 25 of theft. The two were accused of fraudulently obtaining bank loans worthy 120 000 United States dollars in the name of bogus employees of the African National Congress (ANC) Women’s League, of which Madikizela-Mandela was president.

Fraud alongside corruption is threatening the survival of many corporate bodies in the country. Defrauded industries would in the end have no option but to close their businesses, as they would not be posting profits. That would in the end erode the investors’ confidence in the country, deprive the government of tax revenues hence inadvertently affecting developments.

The most unfortunate part of fraud is that it is capable of hiding beneath the veil of seemingly just operations. There have been allegations that some orphans care centres are just calculated means for self-enrichment in the name of supporting orphans.

Fraud has the power to curve highways to massive poverty. As the fraudsters get rich, millions of people end up wallowing in the whims of abject poverty. When industries are defrauded, massive job losses bare their teeth ending up spiralling millions more jobless people on the streets.

The Commission for Africa – a 17-member commission chaired by UK’s Prime Minister Tony Blair – noted that fraud is one of the evils that are hindering economic growth in Africa. Even with massive financial aid, Africa’s economic growth will be questionable, as fraud will be derailing it.

According to a report authored by a campaign group called Global Witness, fraud leads to chronic instability and poverty. For instance, in Angola, where quarter of the oil revenue is unaccounted for each year, one in four children dies in infancy. Yet, as Gavin Hayman of the Global Witness says, the international community spends 200 million US dollars each year trying to feed one million people in Angola who are critically dependent on international food aid.

Scars of fraud and their devastating impact in the health sector in the country are far much visible. Malawi registers one of the highest maternal deaths in the world as clinics run without drugs. Unbelievably, truckloads of medical equipments and drugs get siphoned into fraudsters’ houses. Such a fraud further puts the impoverished Malawian who survives on less than 1 US dollar a day on a great disadvantage. Just because he or she cannot afford health services from private clinics, he or she dies of diseases that could have easily been cured.

The insurance industry is suffering the consequences of massive fraud. There have always been reports of staged fake accidents all in the interests of claiming money from insurance companies.

And as technology advances, so too have fraudsters grabbed it as an opportunity to make more money. The Director of United States Secret Service Ralph Basham says that Internet fraudsters, motivated by money and armed with sophisticated technology, pose an increased economic threat as they steal data from companies and industries.

With just a few keystrokes, online fraudsters can disrupt the economy of a nation and our poor nation must stand on guard. The fact that Malawi is too poor such that its industries cannot invest millions on security software to protect their computer systems makes them an easy target for fraudsters.

Howard Schmidt, a special adviser for cyberspace security during the first term of president George Bush, cautioned that Internet fraudsters are increasingly targeting less protected businesses. Such a change in tactics poses a great risk to struggling economies of poor countries like Malawi.

Fraud devastates economies. For instance, law enforcement agencies in the USA disrupted an online organized crime ring that spanned 8 US states and six countries. The ring had stolen 7 million credit card numbers, costing consumers and credit card companies 4.3 million US dollars.

Malawians who surf the Internet are prone to online fraud. In accordance with the Internet Fraud Advisory, a not for profit group based in Britain, the internet has become a paradise of money laundering fraud, lottery winner fraud, primer on internet fraud and fake job fraud. Fraudsters have also embarked on creating and publishing dating or match making websites.

Fraud, if unchecked, will devastate our economy through the grounding of industries, crippling of health services, sky-rocketing the unemployment rate. It is the hope of the nation that the Money Laundering Bill will be passed in the national assembly soon.

Author is the Membership Services Officer for the Society of Accountants in Malawi (SOCAM)