A Dangerous Song

I cannot write, write to praise the mantle holder
I cannot write, write to create false hopes
I will not create a poem to raise a sad song
A song that was not sung by any poet
A sad song that could only be read in secret
A song that was censored in grubby dungeons
A song whose lyrics were never known
A song that was not published or condemned
It was only built in rumbling dark prison walls
Such a song I will resurrect towards the end
I will place its disturbing images on his face
Such a song needs the support of everyone
Everyone including those that have no voice
It is a song that can be sung in murmurs
It can even be recited in signs, in silent cries
Just this wacky song alone, this wicked poem
No one will be able to use it to praise the tyrant
It will be sung to rebuke him, to chastise him
This song is dating to the beginning of freedom
It was barred by your enemy, your worst enemy
It was loved by a few, a few who shed their blood
It carries their blood, that crimson blood
To your age so you can smell the flesh blood
It has carried the message to this generation
But you hate its content, its disturbing words
It’s not a song to be sung in this peaceful age
This age of hope, this age that desires its enemy
I cannot sing any other song, only this rude one
This snag must be ruined by an observant listener
I will sing only one trustworthy song
One song bearing only the truth even if painful
I will not sing that song that they all sing
I will not be their cheerleader, their leading vocalist
I will reject their changed freedom song
An innocent song whose lyrics have been changed
That song alone I will not be bribed to sing

Desires

Desires abound in all humanity
Desires to strangle our integrity
Desires to kill every upcoming celebrity
Dangerous desires of his majesty
Peaceful desires that create curiosity
Desires trailing weaklings’ thoughts
Odd, strayed desires for a failed dynasty
Just desires placed forward with serenity
Desires of a wise African necessity
Failed desires, mauled desires, extremity
Tension abounds in wicked desires
As yet for life that so soon retires
Power everywhere like roaming fires
Justice nowhere, no subject acquires
Aides so noisy, protecting wicked desires
Convincing the caster with fake fliers
Convicting just, dissenting criers
Pinching them with piercing pliers
A carelessly chosen statement fear stirs
Judgments fail, first wisdom tires

Whispers Across Africa

Terror and war rumble across Africa
Carrying with them whispers of death
Whispers that cook fear and loss
Whispers across Africa
Whispers warning the last child
To spare the life that brought it fourth
To bring down the weighing weapon
That is carried with agony
Whispers from mothers
Whispers from fathers
Whispers from the stranger
Whispers that Africa be calm
Loud whispers are everywhere
Pleading with the cruel hands
That authorize that we be killed
Dark faces that siphon our blood
Masters who adore themselves
They receive dangerous whispers
Send forth from dying Africans
Whispers that are carrying olive oil
Fearful whispers that speak not
Tearful whispers that cry not
Whispers across Africa
Whispers across the continent

Our Words

As we write, we shall write again
With cruel pains and on dark papers
We shall portray again and again
The statue of this once glorious vulture
This rough bird whose rumpled feathers
We are sure will have settled
And with pride we will write again

As we sing today, we will sing again
Songs of joy, comfort and aggression
We shall sing songs of the vulture
That soars into the outer space
And sends his sharp, red eyes
Filled with cruelty, pride, oppression
This perilous prey whose beaks gape
To threaten gentle parrots, swallows
lapwings and even eagles
But we are mindful of one thing
With mockery we will sing again

Yet we won’t praise him again
As his might will finally disappear
But we will write and write and write
To portray the statue of the fallen vulture
And we will sing again and again
Songs of peace, harmony, not compassion
We shall sing about the rising vulture
As he will rise to the sinking bottom
With his dull eyes, closed beaks
To be dethroned by the eagle
Or even by the parrots, swallows, lapwings
So as we praise him today
We won’t praise him again
If we do, then with mockery and ridicule

A Legacy In Tatters

If there is a day president Bingu wa Mutharika rues most in his political career, it surely should be July 20. This is the day that shook the foundations of the State House with emotions, tears, anger, frustrations and death from Malawians. It must have sent a peculiar sting down his spine, forcing him perhaps to lose touch with reality.

How he understood it seems to go beyond what we think: his 21 July national address spoke volumes of a frustrated president who in attempting to consolidate his firm hold of power only incurred the anger of Malawians more. His insight was instantly put to a ridiculous test when instead of finding ways of rebuilding the falling image of his empire, he invited more barrages of criticism from the Civil Society and others.

Mutharika isn’t God; that much the world knows, and that means he cannot manipulate minds of Malawians in any way so that they should instantly side with him irrespective of all the burdens his administration is pinning down on them. In essence, he must now know that his legacy now is no entity man can desire. If he does not deprive himself of truth and honesty, he must pretty well know that his reputation as a human being is at stake; his legacy as a president is in tatters; and his Democratic Progressive Party’s image has been terribly tainted.

In old age, man must strive to be happy, for these are moments of reflection where one needs to take stock of his life. As old age catches up with us, we are supposed to change for the better, not for the worse; we must pull people’s admiration towards us, not rebuke. Yet, these tenets are not automatic. Some men must contradict the conventional principles of life in old age, perhaps to draw our attention from the ordinary. But, it does not provide pleasure for us when the deviants of old age ideological predictions are public figures whom we tended to adore.

Mutharika played a good political game in his first term of office where when he was confronted with untold opposition from the beleaguered opposition in Parliament, he pretended to be the slaughter lamb that must be carefully handled. The Civil Society gave him all the support, university students sided with him, and numerous stakeholders sympathized with him.

Now, these quarters are on his neck because of political and socio-economic tragedies Malawi is rolling in. He achieved a lot in his first term, and he was adored; now he is on a mission of errors and he is being rebuked. The unfairness in this may only be spotted by they that despise honesty. He has been asking why all of a sudden the same quarters that supported him in his terrific first term have turned against him. Whether it is a rhetoric question or not, the point is that he knows the answer: it is simply because his current style of leadership keenly opposes that which he started with.

This administration has passed many unpopular bills. Bingu has engineered the endorsement of his brother Peter for the DPP candidacy – even though he and his admirers will claim he will not force anyone to vote for Peter at the convention. Many other ‘atrocities’ have been committed by his administration, and these are the things the Civil Society is interested to realign.

Closing a university college over academic freedom would always seem something out of the question. But, in this administration, it has been proved that such an act is practical. Well, after Chancellor College and The Malawi Polytechnic got reopened on 4 July, people, especially students, heaved sighs of relief as they thought they were back to make progress. But, as things stand today, normal teaching and learning has not yet resumed at Chanco. Whether this paints a good picture of the Mutharika legacy is perhaps something anyone may tell with the courage of their convictions.

In essence, if truth be told, Mutharika showed that he was not utterly convinced that the lecturers were fighting for a legitimate cause. His use of phrases like “false pursuit for heroism” in the 5 June speech clearly showed that the president was not satisfied that the lecturers were right in their pursuit.

And, it is clear that since Mutharika is Unima Chancellor and therefore formally holds the top most position in the university hierarchy, the University Council can in no way do anything contrary to what the president has said. And the only logical conclusion drawn from these premises is that it is Mutharika who wants to make sure Kapasula and company are fired, and therefore one may say without fear or favour that the president is the one who instructed Council that whatever the case, the four lecturers should not return to Chanco. This definitely puts this administration’s legacy in very bad shape.

The commonplace sayings regarding the passing of character traits among relations are “Like father like son” and “Like mother like daughter”, but of late, Malawians have been forced to coin another one which draws the similarities between a husband and a wife: Like husband like wife. Callista Mutharika has been the centre of public attention because of very infamous remarks.

This lady politician who chanced upon finding herself in the presidential palace by matrimonial virtues seems perfectly set to consolidate the palatial stubbornness and conceit. She was recently quoted in the media as having told Civil Society leaders who are championing for a better Malawi to go to hell. Such undiplomatic language from the first lady begs the question of what sort of advice she offers to the president.

Normally, first ladies are supposed to be apolitical women who must take the leading role of advising the president. There is a certain kind of softness that crowns men’s hearts when they are being talked to by their wives; and if Bingu remains obstinate, then we conclude the first lady is helping him to retain that status.

First ladies are not supposed to be compared, but it is hard to fight the impulse to compare Callista and Ethel (May her soul rest in peace). They are, of course, two different beings, but the dictates of their position demand that they be exemplary women who should refrain from petty politicking and mudslinging. We don’t expect them to be utterly infallible – for they too are human beings and are not immune to vulnerability – but we expect that in their fallibility, it must be understood that their intention was never to attack or offend someone.

But the first lady had calculated her speech in Mzimba perfectly. Whether written or imaginary, there might have been subheadings of aforethought insensitivity in the speech. She must not take the ululation from women as a sign of approval of what she said; it was simply the predictable response that people are always eager to offer to their leaders with words, but never with their hearts.

The same people who were applauding Callista when she recklessly attacked the Civil Society leaders must have been mocking her on their way back home. Amongst them, there obviously were women who understand the tenets of motherhood beyond or behind politics. It might not matter to them whether the first lady is a politician or not; that she is a careless mother might be the remnants of the whole speech. And this must be a strong move in the mission to maul her husband’s legacy.

After the expiry of his term in 2014, we would celebrate Bingu’s remarkable political career, but unfortunately things will go to the contrary. We will rebuke him, chastise him and perhaps even imprison him for a number of atrocities we have encountered. The goodies of his first term will not be remembered any more and we will wish we never saw him in Malawi.

Of course, those who are employed to right his wrongs will always tell us that between now and 2014, people’s anger will subside and the Mutharika brand will be the favourite. They still believe Malawians are still slumbering sheep that will wake up tomorrow and forget whatever happens today. But while it is hard to predict the course of politics, Mutharika’s future seems clearly dim.

Such an economic engineer who couldn’t see that changing the national flag, buying the posh jet for himself and donating maize and lending money to Zimbabwe would culminate in the current economic crisis, may only wish his brother should take over the high office. Such an economist who couldn’t project his strategies a little further – beyond the theoretical economic drawings – must rue his near past, the time when he rested on his laurels and sent packing Fergus Cocrane-Dyet.

No one can say with confident conclusiveness that there is nothing Bingu can do to “reorganize” Malawi’s economy. He just has to sink a little lower and apologise to the donor community for his egotism. After all, he himself initially understood that the budget would need donors to be fully implemented.

He should not waste time, for the greatest waste in this world that man can ever make which cannot be recycled or reclaimed is the waste of time. In fact, all wastes are done in the realm of time and we need to be careful not to waste time. Money and honour might be there in abundance, but a legacy in tatters destroys a man’s reputation. And this is what Bingu is doing – wasting the last part of his presidential term; battering his own legacy; missing the glory that is supposed be brought by old age.

There is no doubt that somewhere somehow Bingu is having or will have regrets. Regrets are pains of the memory that all mankind have. But the most painful regret is that which keeps you company when there was all hope and advice to avoid it. Mutharika could have avoided the current political and social-economic tragedies rocking Malawi if only he listened to voices of reason.

And still, he can retrieve a little bit of some confidence from Malawians if at all he is ready to embrace a kind of leadership style that should emanate from the heart and should consider the hearts of others; a kind of leadership that embraces the harness of compromise. That seems to be the last hope to recoup a staggering reputation; a legacy in tatters.