Conman of the nation

Long before conmen became a dime a dozen, Malawi had a con artist who had such a sweet tongue he could sell you the pants you were wearing. He wore the façade of innocence, the face of a saint and had the sweet tongue of the serpent in Eden. I have forgotten his first name in the mist of time (was it Melvin?) but his surname was Chagunda, although I would be least surprised if it turned out to be an alias. He was the producer of Malawi's first Hollywood (and greatest) film that never got made!

Freshly out of secondary school in 1995, my bestie James Sochera and I were idly wandering up and about, when we heard about a film production that was recruiting actors (ideally extras) for a movie that would star Cynthia Rothrock. Now, Rothrock was big. The mere thought of rubbing shoulders with her, even if it meant being kicked in the nuts, was edifying in the extreme.

So we presented ourselves for recruitment at some nondescript office at the Chichiri Trade Fair Grounds. There was quiet some crowd. But there were no auditions. Just an obligatory recruitment fee (was it K2,000?), an offer of basic training in martial arts (enough skills to scare Rothrock for a few seconds) and promises of a hefty pay to end all paydays. We had no money for the fee, but we scrounged here and there and came up with the fee.

A few days later, we started the hard yards in karate (or was it kung-fu?) at Flamingo along the Magalasi road. The club had a small courtyard on the eastern side where every morning, we sweated as we broke our backs to learn the ropes in as little time as possible. Our sensei, Colvin Kaumira, an ex-MYP, applied himself to the cause as much as we did.

At this point, no one had seen nor read the script of the supposed movie.

On some days, as we shouted our ‘huwaaas’ and ‘hiyaaas’, we would be serenaded by the soothing sounds of Wepaz Band (?) as it held its rehearsals in the club. I got introduced to I Jah Man through the band’s rendition of ‘Jesus Selassie I Keepeth My Soul’ and ‘Jah Heavy Load’. On most days, however, it was the roar of car engines and the hollow echoes of our hoarse shouts that provided the soundtrack to our sweaty endeavours.

Chagunda later assured us that Rothrock had landed but she had proceeded to Liwonde National Park for her vacation. Before flying back home to prepare for the filming, however, she would come around to Blantyre to see the progress we were making and also meet the president (Bakili Muluzi).

That news was sweet music to our ears. Later, we heard rumours (started, no doubt, by Chagunda himself) that Chuck Norris, too, had also flown in and would be part of the movie. In our naivety, we believed it and it only added to our excitement.

Journalists came in their scores to take front-row seats as witnesses to the unfolding history of the making of the first Hollywood movie in Malawi. MBC’s ‘Morning Basket’ featured us as we hollered our ‘huwaaas’ and ‘hiyaaas’; newspapers gave us acres of prime space; we seemed to be everywhere. We were unstoppable. Nothing could go wrong.

Some within our group started to set themselves apart. They positioned themselves as experts on martial arts or the workings of Hollywood. Some attached themselves to Chagunda like a leech to a beast. They wanted to be cast the juicy roles in the movie. Others even led the sessions whenever Kaumira was delayed. And whenever he was around, these would always hang around him, pretending to glean pearls of martial arts wisdom that dripped off his lips.

But it all came crashing down one day.

Every day we had lunch brought by some woman. For some few days previously she had not shown up. Chagunda had been a constant presence at our training. But one day he failed to turn up. When he also failed to turn up the next day, alarm bells started to ring. He had sent a message through one of his leeches, though, that we should meet at the office on the morrow. Our training was in disarray.

At the office the next day it was all chaos.

By and by it dawned on us we had been played for fools. There had been no movie. No Cynthia Rockrock. No planned meet-and-greet between Rothrock and Muluzi. Certainly, no Chuck Norris. It had all been Chagunda’s imagination.

As the con unravelled, we learnt he owed MCCCI, Flamingo, the woman who brought us food, some of his office workers, the taxi man who drove him around; as a matter of fact, he seemed to owe anyone who shook his hand.

But his trail had grown cold by the time people realised this. He had just disappeared, but he resurfaced some time later.

He pulled off a scam here and another there, but none rivalled in extensity with the Hollywood con.

The last I heard of him was in the early 2000s after he was arrested for pulling off another scam.

I wonder what mischief he’s up to, if he’s still alive.