What a burning show!

Last Saturday, Burning Spear unleashed a musical storm that left us breathless and in a musical daze. Now that the smoke has settled, the equipment is packed away and memories are beginning to fade, here’s my take on that unforgettable spectacle.

• The organisers were clearly playing musical chairs with their audience demographics. Lawi is a musical maestro, but he was performing for a crowd that looked like they just emerged from a smoke-filled haze. Seriously, his music deserves a better setting than a stoner’s paradise! There’s a time and place for his tunes, and it’s definitely not in a cloud of smoke!
• Then we had Sangie, a musical gem, yet her audience was a bunch of time-travelling ancestors from the 1970s, with a few 60s and 80s kids thrown in for good measure. The 90s and 2000s kids? They were either babysitting their ancestors or trying to sell you some questionable ‘herbal’ products or wandering around, searching for easy targets to lift phones and wallets from! To these bunch of ancestors, Sangie’s music was about as appealing as bacon at an Adventist convention!
• And let’s not forget Lambanie Dube, the man with more stage names than hits! He fumbled his way through some covers (including a mangled version of Peter Tosh’s 'Rastafari Is') before dishing out his one well-known song, 'Chisoni Nkumatenda'. His only redeeming moment was bringing Hax Momba on stage, only for the MCs to step in and act as the ultimate party poopers.
• Then we had the two-song Burning Spear fan club, the ‘Identity’ and ‘Not Stupid’ squads, who were sobbing like toddlers who lost their ice cream after the reggae legend skipped their favorite tracks. You wouldn’t believe the wild conspiracy theories that were flying around like confetti at a parade: “He’s been bribed by President Lazarus Chakwera to keep those songs off the set-list!” and “He’s avoiding those tunes to prevent a full-blown mosh pit of mayhem!” "Wadya chibanzi cha ganja mkati." Argh, amangwetu!

What nonsense!

But what a (burning) show!

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.

Place of little hope

The sun is staring down unforgivingly. The Department of Climate Change and Meteorological Services had forecast minimum temperatures of 18 degrees Celsius and a maximum of 36 Celsius for Ngabu, Chikwawa. About 20km away at Nchalo, it feels like 100 degrees Celsius, yet it is only 11am.
We are on a mission, this stuffy and unbearable Wednesday, to Mgwinya Island about 10km south east of Nchalo.

Chikwawa

We branch off the main road and traverse through Nchalo Sugar Estate to emerge on the other side of the vast fields of sugarcane. We cross a stream and pass by a village called Ndirande. It shares a lot in common with its namesake in Blantyre. It bears the same scene of chaotic beauty, decay and poverty despite the riches within reach across the stream.
We chug down the rugged road, past cheery faces of children who wave at us oblivious to the chastising heat of the sun. Goats and chickens scamper at our approach. We rumble past some grass thatched houses and iron-roofed houses, some of which were reduced to a heap by Cyclone Idai in March. Order and destruction co-exist here.
We pass some fields and emerge by the bank of the Shire River. The river is flowing serenely and only the shifting position of twigs as they sail downstream suggests movement.
Five canoes are moored to a metal pole and gently nudge each other as the water laps against them. Close by, two donkeys are browsing with the contentment one can only find in abundance.

Boats moored to a metal pole

Donkeys feeding along the river bank

Some distance away, scores of bicycles are parked in an upended fashion. The owners, I learn, have crossed over to the other side of the Shire River where they have gardens.

Bicycles

There is bustle of activity on the other side of the river as three canoes are scrambled to take us across to Mgwinya Island in the area of Traditional Authority (T/A) Makhuwira.

Shire River

We are on a medical mission and as soon as the canoes beach, a multitude of hands help us to load various medical supplies into the canoes and soon we start our journey across the river.

Supplies being loaded in canoes

The three oarsmen paddle upstream with the graceful patience of people attuned to this sort of work. Slowly and gently we get to the other side of the river bank, on the island.

The boats cross the Shire River

The medical supplies are offloaded and before long, three local women with children strapped onto their backs welcome us and help carry the supplies from the dock.

Supplies being offloaded

Such has been the routine every week for the past three months for officers from Chikwawa District Health Office and Amref Health Africa.

The journey into the interior begins

The journey continues

A German organisation, Sternstunden e.V., has been funding Chikwawa DHO, through Amref, to carry out outreach clinics in three areas that were ravaged by Cyclone Idai in March 2019.
The outreach clinics take place on Jombo Village in the T/A Ngabu on Tuesdays, Mafale 2 in T/A Lundu on Thursdays and Mgwinya Island on Wednesdays.
Darkson Matchado, Amref’s Emergency Response Coordinator for Chikwawa, says the outreach clinics have reduced the distance that child bearing women travel to receive family planning and antenatal services.
“They have also reduced the pressure on OPD services at Nchalo Health Centre as some are getting services in their communities,” Matchado says.
Having unloaded and picked up everything, our walk to the interior begins. Amos Watchman, the Health Surveillance Assistant (HSA) for the area, tells me the distance to the venue for the outreach clinic is about 7km. Or eight.

Travel on Mgwinya Island is not for the fainthearted. The place has no cars. I saw a few motorcycles and bicycles, but one needs to have signed up to an experience of a sore back to even countenance riding on one. The footpaths are a rugged mess of broken clay and uneven surfaces.
While I huff and puff as I try to keep up with the frenetic pace of the team (there are 13 of us), our women helpers don’t even break sweat as they dexterously balance the items on their heads.
As we walk up, Watchman recounts what happened in March when Cyclone Idai laid the island to waste. His house was destroyed, too, so he had to relocate to the ‘mainland’. Other people stayed put.
Looking around me, I cannot help but notice that the lush foliage on the island belies the cries of hunger elsewhere in the district.
A day before, I had been to Nyasa Village in T/A Ngabu in the same district where the pervasive outcry had been about hunger.
When Cyclone Idai swept across Chikwawa, many crop fields were damaged, rendering most people destitute and in need of food. In the wake of the disaster, Chikwawa DHO regularly conducts cooking demonstrations in order to improve the nutritional uptake among the people and build their resilience.
With funding from Sternstunden e.V., the office has been holding cooking demonstration in communities that were laid to waste by the floods for them to prudently use commonly available crops such as sweet potatoes. Nyasa Village is one of the areas that was bereft of food crops and the cooking demonstration could not have come at a better time.

Doughnuts made from sweet potatoes

Juice made from sweet potatoes

Mgwinya Island may not have such fears. It has food aplenty. Green fields of maize give way to green fields of sugarcane. Green fields of sugarcane give way to green fields of maize intercropped with creepers. It is an endless, breath-taking carpet of green.

Maize fields on Mgwinya Island are plenty

Here and there we pass a homestead. Here and there we meet someone tending to their crops. Here and there, birds break the monotony of our weary silence as we walk along the rugged surface.
Around 1:30pm, the purring sound of a diesel maize mill rises above the excited sound of children and the contented chattering of birds as if performing a chorus of welcome. We had finally reached our destination.
We soon emerge into a cluster of houses, which I learn is roughly the centre of this island. Under a huge Indian jujube (masau) tree, hundreds of children, women and men, are waiting expectantly for us.

The clinics start with health education

We have no time to waste, so the outreach clinics start as soon as we arrive. There are three clinics taking place simultaneously. There is an outpatients section being held under the tree. Under-five children are being attended to at another jujube. The women who had assisted us are attending this clinic as well.

Taking a breath from it all

The three women who volunteered to carry the supplies from the dock

The ‘maternity wing’ is out by itself behind the house fronting the huge Indian jujube tree. Pregnant women are being weighted under a tree, but consultations are taking place in an unfinished house that offers little, if anything, by way of privacy. In fact, none of the clinics here does.

An antenatal clinic in progress

Consultation room for pregnant women

Outpatient clinic

Under-five clinic

As I go about capturing the scenes, I overhear one young man telling a clinician he has had stomach ache for three days. He looks weak. I doubt he would have made the distance to the dock, let alone walk for another 10km to the nearest healthy facility at St Montfort Mission Hospital or Nchalo Health Centre at Nchalo, Chikwawa.
Mgwinya Island could be a place of no hope. Its population of 10,500 people is served by two HSAs, but it has no clinic. Its only school ends at standard five and has two volunteers for teachers.

Classroom on Mgwinya island

It has no borehole and no running water. People draw water from unprotected wells.

One of the wells at Mgwinya island

It is a similar refrain in the area of Group Village Headman Mzangaya, in T/A Ngabu on the mainland, where sanitary facilities were swept away and their reliable sources of water (boreholes) were also damaged.
Mzangaya community is picking up the pieces by rebuilding their sanitary facilities, but provision of water remains a major challenge. The community uses a damaged borehole and a shallow well, which raises fears of waterborne diseases.

Damaged borehole at Mzangaya village

Damaged borehole at Mzangaya village

Well at Mzangaya village

Amref Health Africa, with funding from Sternstunden e.V., is providing chlorine to the communities in Mzangaya and on Mgwinya Island, but they need a sustainable option. The island has its own unique challenge of transporting drilling equipment.
The clinics ends at 4pm. The sun has turned the Shire River into a canvass of shimmering gold by the time we return to catch the canoe.

The team returning

Mission accomplished: Part of the team landing on the bank of Shire River

As we sail across the river, I am left reflecting wondering whether Mgwinya Island is a place of no hope. But there is hope, however little of it, that reflects itself in small gestures of volunteerism by people and the abundance of food on the island.

On Chaponda, Mutharika and faeces

Highlights of Malawi this week (so far).

• George Chaponda gets arrested and suddenly everyone starts singing praises of the ACB and the government. It shows, they say, the ACB’s independence and the government’s commitment to fighting corruption. But let me be the party pooper here: pigs will have to learn to fly before anything of substance comes out of it. The same institutions receiving high praise cannot get around to disposing of, let alone start earnest work on, the famous 13 Cashgate files.
• President Peter Mutharika tells donors off on the Salima-Lilongwe Water Project. On another day, the opposition, the CSOs and the media would have been up in arms to censure APM. Strangely, the government, the opposition, the CSOs (and we, the media) seem to have collectively sworn to a caustic pact to see this project through, come rain or high water. I trust this project ends well and not in tears because there won’t be enough humble pie to pass around should it tank.
• Water in Area 18, Lilongwe, gets contaminated with faeces. Did the pipes for the two separate systems combust spontaneously such that both Lilongwe Water Board and Lilongwe City Council were taken unawares? Highly unlikely. One of the two was negligent. One of the two systems’ pipes burst and it was left unattended to for a long time. Such things happen all the time. I would have expected citizens to demand answers on this negligence that exposes people to harm. Instead, we are engaged in a race about who produces the best memes or jokes about the situation. Gallows humour will solve none of our problems. Sewer pipes burst all the time in our cities and it takes ages before they are attended to. Area 18A might be the butt of jokes (pun intended) today, but tomorrow might be your turn to eat a cake of poop. Never underestimate the power of the councils and the waters: they can surprise and disappoint in equal measure.

Blantyre Water Board insulting clients

It’s hard to like Escom unless you are working there. I suppose even some of the employees flinch at the very thought of working there. In the sport of throwing expletives in Escom’s direction, it should rank as the only occasion when Malawians leave aside their tribes, political choices, football clubs they support and unite for that one cause.

The lot that moan at Escom’s supposed legendary incompetence is largely an overindulged middle class and usually male. For the common folk, unless the maize mill is not running, they couldn’t care less.

In all of this, however, I have found reasons to admire Escom despite its limited means. I cannot remember the last time Escom kept me in the dark for two days or more. It is usually a few hours. Again, Escom often warns consumers about impending blackouts by publishing load shedding schedules which help one to plan their day. Of course, Escom reserves the right to disappoint, so once in a while it throws the schedule out the window and does what Escom knows best.

For most people, the reason we need electricity are usually as mundane as charging the phone, watching TV or listening to music. We lose next to nothing without electricity.

Some utility organisations, however, have been spared of the sort of flack that Escom cops. Take, for instance, the water boards and I am talking about Blantyre Water Board (BWB) in particular. When I last lived in Lilongwe about two years ago, water was not such a big deal. Granted, we had hiccups once in a while but overall we coped. I understand Lilongwe Water Board has of late fallen on hard times and it is failing to supply water properly to residents. I hear that is all due to the hazards of overpopulation and lack of foresight.

Early this year, as Escom and other water boards were lamenting that El Nino would affect their operations, BWB issued one of the most carelessly worded statements I have ever read when it declared it didn’t envisage such challenges. But as anyone who has lived in Blantyre long enough will testify, BWB’s response was vanity than reality. BWB and water shortages are hand in glove.

It is not uncommon for some townships in the city to have dry taps for a week without explanation or apology from BWB. As I am writing this, my area has gone for three days without water. No warning. No explanation. And no apology is forthcoming.

The more I read BWB’s slogan about ‘Water is life’, the more I am convinced the board is either intentionally raising the middle finger at its clients or it is just clueless. If the board knows water is life, how does it expect people survive for a week without water? And in what should be counted as one of the most misguided decision, the board had the gumption to raise tariffs on a product it barely supplies! What cheek!

It’s time the board stopped insulting its clients by clinging to that heartless slogan. Escom saw the folly of its ways after some prodding from Cama and it tweaked its slogan; it’s not too late for BWB to follow suit.

Malawi’s metaphor of falling presidents

Of late, President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe seems to have developed a habit of stumbling and falling. In February last year, the nonagenarian stumbled and fell at a Harare airport, to much mirth and pity in equal measure for the nonagenarian.

If that fall was dismissed as a blip, such doubts were cast aside a few months later—in October—when he stumbled again in New Dheli, but he had Indian prime minister Narendra Modi to thank for breaking his fall.

A combination of old age and almost 15 years of incessantly fighting opposition both at home and abroad can wear down any man. He can, you might even say, be forgiven for the occasional fall.

Malawian presidents, on the other hand, seem to have perfected the art of falling in public dating from the latter days of Kamuzu Banda to the present day rule of President Peter Mutharika. In fact, the stumble and fall of sitting Malawian presidents—at least three of them—reads like a poignant metaphor of the state of their nation and, as it has happened in the past two occasions, it has turned to be a harbinger of their own political fall.

For instance, as power was slipping from his grasp in the early 1990s, Kamuzu Banda famously stumbled and fell in Harare where he had gone for the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting (CHOGM). Malawi’s economy at the time was a shambles, his political foes were closing on him. It was as if the fall presaged his own political downfall a few years later; first, when the citadel of his power—one party system of government—was demolished during the June 93 referendum and, when he fell at the polls in May 1994, never to rise again.

Bakili Muluzi and Bingu wa Mutharika largely stayed on their feet, but the same cannot be said of the national economies or the political systems they presided over. They stumbled with such regularity they may as well have just stayed on the floor.

Joyce Banda’s obituary as a president was sealed when she had her own kiss with the ground—was it in Mzuzu?—after she also stumbled. It was a cruel metaphor of how she governed the country during two uneventful, but wasted years. She stumbled in her speeches (claiming rather naively, among other gaffes, that she saw nothing wrong with receiving stolen property), messed up the economy, lorded over the looting of public funds, seemed to be unsure of her own position (remember how she used to say donors have told me this and that) and how mightily she fell at the polls. That fall crystalised all her failures.

Now President Peter Mutharika has fallen as well. It is no laughing matter. The economy has fallen, the kwacha has fallen, the real value of the salaries has fallen, our morality has fallen (we are killing or threatening to kill each other for fun). And, oh, the water levels in Lake Malawi have fallen.

Look, anyone can fall, but in Malawi, that relationship with the ground seems to carry a double jeopardy. It is, perhaps, a warning for our leaders to do something about everything that has fallen, but they seldom pay attention to it. To their peril.

Mutharika fell, but he was swiftly helped to his feet by his attentive bodyguard. If only Mutharika’s fall and his being helped to his feet were the metaphor for Malawi’s fortunes, we would be the better for it.

Even cockroaches have leaders

Monday’s coup d’état in the People’s Party (PP) seemed like the right thing to do. PP’s leader, Joyce Banda, has displayed all the signs of a reluctant and, sometimes, clueless captain of a rudderless ship that is riding choppy waters.

After that coup and the subsequent developments, we now know that those who thought regionalism was on its way to the grave celebrated way too early. We—particularly politicians—think about protecting the interests of our respective regions first before the national concerns. We also know that parties’ constitutions (even Malawi’s own Constitution) are just worthless collections of high sounding legal jargon which nobody cares for. We further know that Banda has the devil-may-care attitude towards her leadership of the party and couldn’t care less if anyone led it so long as she was left alone to brood over her losses.

Since PP’s elective convention in 2013, Banda has lost vice-presidents faster—and more of them—than a Standard One pupil would lose her pencils in a year. Alright, I admit, I may have exaggerated but, if within two years of refreshing your leadership, you have had five deputies—three elected and two appointed—ditching you, it is serious indictment on your suitability as a leader. Maybe not even a Standard One pupil could be that careless with her pencils.

JB, to be fair, hasn’t done herself any favours by holing up in South Africa, insulating herself from the challenges and the insults her followers have to live up with.

That alone would have been enough to call for a convention—or whatever instruments it is that manages these matters—to push for a leadership that is amicable as it is acceptable. Or even a coup d’état.

Hence, the Monday putsch would have assumed a veneer of acceptability and respectability had the coup plotters done the right thing by seeking a consensus of like-minded individuals from a broad spectrum of the party’s membership across all the regions.

Alas! It lost all pretentions of righteousness after its leaders reduced the coup to a regional affair than a national concern they wanted it to be or it should have been.

Former vice-president Khumbo Kachali may be an astute politician but some of the characters which PP regional leader for north Christopher Mzomera Ngwira cited as making him fit for the leadership of the party are laughable at best and pathetic at worst.

Ngwira suggested that the mere fact that Kachali has a police officer assigned to him—that by virtue of his position as former vice-president, a position to which, rather than being elected to, he was simply appointed—made him the ideal person to lead PP. Maybe. Maybe not.

Kachali became Malawi’s vice-president without subjecting himself to the will of people nationally. In terms of national politics, he is as raw as any and to imagine he would command universal respect and support in the PP, let alone nationally, is gullibility redefined.

Let’s not forget, Kachali is a turncoat of some fearsome reputation. He was in the United Democratic Front (UDF) and when it seemed its fortunes were changing for the worse, Kachali was one of the first people to bale out for Democratic Progressive Party (DPP).

After being chucked out of DPP alongside Banda, they founded PP, where fortune—fate, maybe—found him in the right place at the right time when he was appointed Malawi vice-president following the death of Bingu wa Mutharika.

Last year when Banda made it subtly known to Kachali that he was unelectable as vice-president, he threw a fit and campaigned for President Peter Mutharika against his own leader.

One year on, after Mutharika has ignored him for rewards for his sweat in the campaign, Kachali and his minions would have us believe he is the next best thing to lead PP to glory. Maybe he is, depending on the standards the party is aspiring for. After all, even cockroaches have leaders but that doesn’t make them better than the vermin they are leading.

Either Mutharika or Kachaje lied

Having combed with a fine toothcomb through The Daily Times’ story about Economics Association of Malawi (Ecama) suggesting that President Peter Mutharika lied on the economy, I have failed to come across a statement where Gregory Gondwe, the author, quotes Ecama’s president Henry Kachaje as saying “Mutharika lied on the economy”.

Which is why I find Ecama’s rambling rebuttal to the story needlessly provocative, lacking coherence and direction, contradictory and built on shaky ground. And a waste of resources.

Perhaps, Ecama could have stated their case better by publishing Kachaje’s presentation for us to judge how 'unprofessional' The Daily Times or the journalist were, if at all. They didn’t! I would have expected them to, at least, reproach Gregory for quoting Kachaje out of context or inventing quotations. Shame, they didn’t either!

Nowhere in the story does Gregory quote Kachaje directly as saying Mutharika lied to the nation about the economy. And nowhere in its published tantrum does Ecama say Gregory misquoted Kachaje. What the journalist used was inference or interpretative journalism. If someone says “John does not say the truth” it is not farfetched to infer that John is a liar. Just as there are million ways of skinning a cat, they are even more of saying someone is a liar. Kachaje used one of those.

Gregory directly quotes Kachaje, on economic growth, as saying: “How can we be sure that ‘the economy is expected to rebound to higher levels averaging 7 percent’ when we have just experienced the worst floods in recent history and agricultural output is expected to drop by 30 percent?” In his State of the Nation Address in May, President Mutharika said on the subject: “It is estimated that the economy grew by 5.5 percent and it is expected to rebound to higher levels averaging 7 percent or higher from next year.” Interpretation? Mutharika lied.

On inflation, Kachaje rhetorically asked in his presentation last week: “How will the interest rates go down when inflation is unlikely to drop significantly? How will people’s disposable incomes increase when they will be buying food at higher prices?” He was, in all probability, responding to what Mutharika said in that address: “We expect annual inflation to fall to 16.5 percent in 2015 compared to 23.8 percent in 2014. The decline in inflation is expected to increase people’s disposable incomes and interest rates are also expected to decline in 2016.” Interpretation? Mutharika lied again.

Kachaje and Mutharika are patently not singing from the same hymnbook and only one of them can hold the truth. The journalist in Gregory just brought up that fact. Mutharika is a lawyer. And a politician. And politicians are not necessarily noted for their preference for truth. Kachaje, on the other hand, is an economist. Not just a riff-raff economist picked off the street; he is the boss of them all, including those boys and girls Mutharika relies on for advice on the economy.

And when he barks on the economy, people sit up and listen. Kachaje is an authority on the economy. Hence, when Kachaje says that what Mutharika said on the economy is more suited to a John Grisham novel than reality, you need to put those facts into perspective. And that perspective is that Mutharika lied on the economy. Kachaje didn’t have to say the words out loud.

What Mutharika said can only wear a veneer of truth if Kachaje took it on the chin and confessed that his presentation was an uninspired attempt at economic fiction; that the economy would probably rebound to higher levels averaging 7 percent irrespective of the worst floods we have experienced in recent history or a downturn in agricultural output by 30 percent; that interest rates would decline, as Mutharika hopes, even if inflation is unlikely to drop significantly.

Only on that score would we say what Mutharika said was the truth and Kachaje lied. Otherwise, Mutharika lied on the economy.

As scandalous as they come

On a scale of one to 10, I am caught in sixes and sevens about which is the most mind-numbing and insensitive between Minister of Information Kondwani Nankhumwa’s suggestion that Malawi should buy a presidential jet once the economy improves and Malawi Congress Party’s decision to celebrate the life of Dr Kamuzu Banda and honour its veterans.

For starters, Nankhumwa’s suggestion is ridiculous and a colossal insult to the time we live in. I will take him on his word that every country in the world may have a presidential jet, but I am certain those nations buy them with the sweat from their collective brows and without hurting the poorest. Such is the state of Malawi’s economy that, if it were not for vanity, we should ill-afford those fuel-guzzling monsters that make the presidential convoy, let alone a jet. So pessimistic am I that I just do not see the economy picking up that enough resources which can be set aside for that vanity project without hurting the poor.

For the President to jump on commercials airlines may not make economic sense — what with the time lost, the inconvenience of waiting in airport terminals, the ignominy of rubbing shoulders with riffraff and, need I add, the loss of his otherness and respect — but if we must buy our own presidential jet, we should desist from dipping our hands into donors’ funds: “economy improving” suspiciously sounds like a euphemism for “when we receive donor funds”.

The last time we bought a presidential jet, the deal started so badly it had to end similarly. From the British throwing a fit over abuse of their resources to fund the luxury purchase to its diabolical sale by the Joyce Banda administration, it was doomed from start to finish. We are yet to regain the goodwill of the British in the form of budgetary support. And the government’s Account Number One is yet to receive a single penny from that transaction.

It was one scandal too many and the least the country needs at this point, when we must all put our collective shoulder to the wheel, is a repeat.

Now to the MCP. The quest by the party to rekindle a non-existent, idyllic past under Dr Kamuzu Banda knows no bounds. According to MCP, Malawians ought to remember Kamuzu for such achievements as “roads, hospitals, universities and airports, among others.”

Sure, we should, but when will MCP organise a national event to mourn the lives of men and women cut down needlessly by Kamuzu’s agents, thousands who were driven into involuntary exile for fear of death, hundreds of thousands who suffered one way or the other at the hands of the man whose birthday will be celebrated on May 14?

If they cannot do that, they are well advised to keep news of the celebration in-house. Kamuzu was not everyone’s cup of tea. This announcement is like dancing on the grave of the man you have killed as his relations look on helplessly.

I feel a colossal mistake was made after the referendum in 1993. Much like what happened to the Nazi in Germany after the Second World War, MCP should have been banned for eternity, if only to curb the cultism that has followed since Kamuzu’s death.

MCP did enough damage to the psyche of Malawians to last a lifetime. What Kamuzu did in terms of development has actually damaged subsequent leaders who have adopted the same minimalist attitude.

Bakili Muluzi spent an entire 10 years yelling about how he had freed Malawi from the jaws of autocracy and dolling out K50 to poverty-stricken Malawians and termed it empowerment. His supporters wept a great deal when Bingu wa Mutharika swept into town, who complained with bitterness how Muluzi had reduced him to a 2-minute man and built ports where there were no ships. Joyce Banda spent two years in office doing nothing of substance but distributing goats.

It must be remembered, throughout his 30 year rule, Kamuzu insulted the people of Mwanza and Neno and reminded us how he had freed us from the ‘stupid’ federation, as if that fight was a one man show. That’s the legacy Kamuzu left for his successors, who have played by the book.

As we leave MCP to their follies and plans to “honour [its] party veterans from the North, Central, South and the East”, perhaps they should also reflect on Kamuzu Banda’s victims or their relations “from the north, central, south and the east” who could really do with an arm around them. Maybe it is only me, but I find the whole idea of honouring Kamuzu with a day a tad scandalous and insensitive. Or even the mausoleum and the statue, which are a daily mockery to his victims. But that is only me.

Where 50+1 doesn't cut it

Post-May 20 elections has thrown up all manners of characters who are wringing their arms trying to come to terms with how someone who received less than 40 percent of the popular vote is lording over them. It's a travesty and outrageous, illegitimate even, they moan, that a 'minority party' should govern the majority.

Such a scenario, they weep further, is retrogressive, entrenches tribalism, creates divisions, exacerbates regionalism and breeds all manner of shenanigans. It's all doomsday stuff, if you listen to some of them with a sympathetic ear.

To their immeasurable credit, they proffer a solution that would have been illuminating were it not flawed, that is, if no candidate receives over 50 percent plus one of the vote (50+1) in future elections, Malawi should conduct a runoff between the two top presidential candidates.

It has everyone nodding their heads in agreement. But let us be frank with facts — and with ourselves: the problems we have as a nation have little, if anything, to do with the flaws in our electoral system.

The fundamental error is to believe that once a candidate attains over 50 percent plus one of the vote, nepotism would be buried, people won't be fired in the public service for their political choices, regionalism would be deleted from our national collective conscience, tribe will cease to exist as a prerequisite qualification for public appointment and all that sentimental hogwash — all because the president would have been elected by a majority of the electorate.

They say that as if we have forgotten how Bingu wa Mutharika shafted the nation after he single-handedly managed to turn a 76 percent political investment in 2009 into a circus of bigotry, nepotism, tribalism, misogyny, murder and economic malaise at the time of his death. Strange how someone who harvested so much national goodwill sowed so many seeds of discord!

No ruling party (and even some, if not all, opposition parties) would acquiesce to any change to the laws. Forget crocodile tears and frothing at the mouth in public. In private the opposition endorses simple plurality; after all, they won’t have to huff and puff their way to Kamuzu Palace. Political parties love the current regime as it is less expensive (monetary terms) and gives almost everyone a good shot at power.

The Democratic Progressive Party proved it in the last elections (as did the United Democratic Front in 2004), and, as the popular saying goes, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Would DPP tempt fate and tinker with a system that has served them so well? Doubtful. Would the opposition support changes to a flawed system on which a fellow erstwhile opposition party piggybacked? I'll not wait with bated breath for that wind of change.

Willingness to change aside, the nation would need to grapple with funding for the elections. National Salvation Front president James Nyondo may not be everyone's cup of tea but he did dispense some gems of wisdom during the presidential debates, one of which was about our eternal dependence on donor aid and our reluctance to plan and live on our means. He said something to the effect like: "Kukonza malamulo oti udzidya bread katatu koma ukudalira a neba".

For the May 20 elections donors committed up to 40 percent of Malawi's electoral funding (although they dispensed less) but Mec still has debts to settle incurred from conducting the elections. In the event of a runoff, who do we expect to fund our never-ending experiment with democracy? If we can't find our source of funding that will not disturb allocations to others sectors of our society, let us keep our mouths shut and let the current system flourish, flawed as it may be. Arguing that democracy is expensive will earn you top marks in a political science class but it will neither buy medicine in public hospitals nor pay public workers.

The funding aspect calls for a fundamental change in thought and habit. We need an independent Malawi Electoral Commission that would be funded by the state comprehensively. None of that, however, will happen. The state is motivated to keep MEC on a short leash, dependent and underfunded to ensure it remains an organiser of events rather than a process that elections ought to be. MEC is at the mercy of the executive and donors even to organise a by-election in one ward.

While we agitate for 50+1, we should also consider how we can tackle voter apathy. Voting in Malawi is not compulsory and experience has shown that turnout in by-elections is very poor with close to 25 percent. The recent by-elections in Thyolo and Blantyre, among other areas, attest to this. So, if only 25 percent registered voters turn-up in a presidential runoff, the threshold of victory would be significantly reduced (about 13 percent of all registered voters) and may not address the issue which the 50+1 brigade is campaigning for. To cap the grim picture, some internal conflicts in Africa have started after candidates have refused to accept results of a run-off, all because the stakes are high and the expectation even higher.

Admittedly, the 50+1 raises the stakes and improves the quality of competition. It also ensures that the majority of voters are subjected to a narrower choice and can be able to give their choice much thought. But we just don’t have the resources and the political conviction to tread that route.

Maybe we wouldn’t have this discussion if intra-party democracy was the byword for our political parties. Malawi has 40-plus 'cry-baby' political parties, all of whom were conceived due to a clash of egos. While the right to form a political party is everyone's right, isn't it time we put restrictions to safeguard registering parties whose pervasive ideology is 'tantrum'? Maybe, just maybe, if we had fewer parties, we wouldn’t even need 50+1.

Come to think of it, even MEC would have saved substantially if we only had the four presidential candidates and excluded the eight no-hopers!

Kondesi, GOtv and Macra’s hypocrisy

Gabriel Kondesi had become a fading memory by 10 June 2013, a footnote to Malawi’s troubled history in establishing broadcasting standards that are as acceptable to one as they are accommodating to all. He had his 15 minutes of fame (and a fair share of infamy) in October 2009 for running a pirate radio station made out of homemade materials. And then just as swiftly, he vanished into oblivion.

But thanks to the impeccable competence of the Malawi Communications Regulatory Authority (Macra), his name has been thrust into the fore with a thirst for vengeance of a kind after Multichoice Malawi Limited dared the sleepy regulator by nonchalantly flouting licensing procedures.

An awakened Macra was not to be bullied around, however, and so, in its infinite wisdom, it issued Multichoice Malawi with a tepid reprimand for bypassing its authority and rolling out GOtv.

“[Macra] hereby issues a warning to Multichoice (Malawi) Ltd for launching GOtv Services without authorisation and license contrary to Section 46 of the Communication Act,” cooed Macra in an advert that appeared in the daily papers.

Macra then went to great lengths to expose its discomfort at having to explain how they had conspired with Multichoice officials over the licensing fraud. Like some stern headmaster who must admonish a wayward but brilliant pupil, Macra made sure they chastised Multichoice in a way they won’t forget in a hurry: “This warning follows a meeting that was held at Macra offices on 23rd April 2013 between Macra and Multichoice officials where the latter acknowledged that they did not follow both the law and procedures in launching GOtv. Pursuant to Section 54 (4) of the Act, the Authority hereby publishes a warning issued to Multichoice (Malawi) Limited.”

Now, every time someone starts their sentence with ‘meanwhile’, it is a dead cert for a spoiler. Because like the headmaster to that wayward but brilliant pupil, Macra went on its knees and serenaded Multichoice by committing itself to legalise GOtv’s illicit foray into local broadcasting with a retrospective license: “Meanwhile, Multichoice (Malawi) Limited is allowed to continue may proceed [sic] offering GOtv Services as the authority is in the process of licensing them.”

Catastrophe averted, everyone goes home happy — except that Macra has exposed its hypocrisy to a wide reading world for denying Kondesi similar privileges in October 2009.

Taking a cue from the privilege Macra had extended to Multichoice, they should, at the very least, have invited Kondesi and over a cup of tea told him: “Look here, boy, you just don’t wake up one day with your homemade broadcasting paraphernalia and start broadcasting the following day. They are rules, boy, they are rules, you have to follow, get it? Now run off and regularise yourself!”

But they didn’t; instead, they threw stinging, cold handcuffs at him for contravening one broadcasting law too many to operate in a free world, hauled him before a magistrate, fined him K50,000 and unable to pay, bundled him off to prison to serve 10 months imprisonment for being poor failing to pay. No questions asked. No round table discussions. Nothing. Just cold indifference.

That he was released following a public outcry is beside the point. That Mike Kuntiya, then acting director general of Macra, unilaterally licensed and promised to fund him for K10 million (much to the chagrin of a bemused board) just weakens the position of Macra as regulator. In licencing GOtv retrospectively, the regulator has just established an untenable precedent which it may find itself hopeless to defend.

We expected GOtv to be off the air or fined — and heavily — if not for Macra to establish parity with Kondesi’s punishment, then to assert itself and send out a message that circumventing its authority will have dire consequences.

In terms of influence, Pachikweza Radio was child’s play (which it was), affecting people living within a 35km radius. A drop in the ocean. GOtv? It’s reach and influence is immeasurable, the entire length and breadth of the country and all they got was a slap on the wrists. Actually, a slap on the wrist does not even begin to describe what went on here. Was Macra inspired by corporate greed in merely warning Multichoice but appalled by the individual innovation of Kondesi in persecuting, or, prosecuting him? Indeed, what message does this send to young Malawian innovators? Is this a country hell-bent on punishing innovators? 

If educated people (Multichoice should have plenty of those) failed to realise they needed a licence to broadcast, it is too big an ask to expect Kondesi, a semi-illiterate school drop-out, to have a scant idea about broadcasting licenses. That would be stretching the limits of absurdity far too far.

Meanwhile, while the executives at Multichoice are back at their desks, congratulating themselves and polishing their CVs for pulling off the biggest broadcasting licensing fraud of the century, Kondesi shuffles around with the screaming ignoble tag of an ex-convict around his neck.