The Price Of Our Humility

Humility is a human trait that descends from the inner perception that the self needs to be aware of the peripheral in matters of mutual existence. It sometimes transcends love and compassion, for it may encompass them.

The humble do not always seem to be the victors in emerging African democracies; it is the rebellious that carry the day. Yet, any lesson in humility will always groom us to be calm and pacific even in the midst of turbulent waters.

On July 20, twenty Malawians were martyred in anti-government protests which for once, seemed set to bring Bingu wa Mutharika to reason. His subsequent national address a day later was initially somber-toned; but then that was a mistake the president quickly discovered: gentleness shouldn’t be part of his traits.

Twenty lives lost in your regime – where people are against your policies – should be a peace robbing scenario. In any case, their solemn souls must linger above your head, for if you never made the errors which those killed were trying to force you to realign, you would point fingers at others for the lost lives.

The 20 July demonstrations lasted a day in large part and that seems to be the reason we must pay a price. Perhaps, if the protests lasted a little longer, Mutharika would no longer be there at the State House today. But for one reason or another, the protests couldn’t go on, and that test on this regime appears to have been too little to stir anything at the State House.

We are just too humble, and for such humility, there is a cost. Our houses are being torched, our brothers are being brutally mauled to death after the presidential threat to smoke out any critic, but all we can do is sit back and be proud of our humility.

Coincidences occur in life, but then they have clearer explanations without suspicions if they don’t follow hot on the heels of anything. In any case, how do you explain a scenario where an authority threatens that all his critics will be dealt with proper, and then the critics begin to experience tragic acts? These shouldn’t be described as mysterious acts: they are clear manifestations of the threats proffered earlier on.

Robert Chasowa, a fourth year engineering student at the Malawi Polytechnic was the imminent pillar of hope – at least for someone. That’s where it stings deeper. Such a student who perfectly engineered his way into one of the most prestigious colleges in Malawi is finally no more, stopped by the accumulating evil of murderers in the making.

It is said he was being hunted by the police because of a one-page publication which used very critical language to rake the ills of the Mutharika administration. He was part of the crew that published the circular which came out weekly, and might as well go with his demise.

Robert was being hunted not to be tried, but to be killed. That’s how brutal life is. A young man who together with others was keen when it came to digging out secret information was supposed to be benefitted from. Some would use his undertakings to correct their problems, others would employ him in intelligence societies, but others still chose to end his life in such a heartrending fashion.

His mother did not have the energy to cry when she was brought to her son’s death scene. It was only her haggard body which spoke volumes of the pain that was smoldering in her heart as she tried to come to terms with the death of her beloved son. With all factors constant, Robert was supposed to leave college next year after successfully completing his Bachelor’s Degree. But, men with demonic hearts chose to cut short his stay in college – and on planet Earth.

The presidential assertion of smoking out critics is being perfectly implemented. The thugs target everyone deemed to be Mutharika’s enemy. They want to drive all of us into submission, or into hiding, or to our graves. All this is happening simply because we are so humble; too humble to ask the president to step down because of declaring war on his own people; too humble to band together and think of a better Malawi once and for all.

We are so humble that we watch one man – in his arrogance and stubbornness – steer our nation into untold tragedies, without forcing him to resign. And Mutharika himself knows that he is leading people whose barks are worse than their bites.

Our humility is costing our lives. It has filtered to the point where we seem to have no direction. A few people who would bring change to Mother Malawi are being butchered in cold blood, and we lack the conviction to let their blood not be shed in vain.

It only took the death of one man to initiate the revolution that spilt from Tunisia to other Arabic countries. Yet in Malawi, after the death of twenty-one people, those of us who are still living seem to be too humble to invade the streets of this country with our candles, our blankets and our cassette or CD players to dish out songs of freedom.

A few who have the inner conviction to fight are being killed; the rest of us are too humble to carry the fight on. And they must be turning in their graves now at a job they started which no one else seems to be willing to take up.

We keep waiting for the police to conclude investigations whose results they doctor before they even start – if they do them at all. Yet we pretty well know that these police officers are the very same people this regime is using to torment its own people. We are so humble that even if our brothers and sisters die brutally at the hands of this regime’s agents, we cannot do anything until we establish what really happened.

Mother Malawi is weeping – weeping really hard. She is crying for the lost souls that were set to bring change but have no one to pick up the relayed stick. Our country longs for men and women who will rise above the occasion and say enough is enough. These are the people Malawi needs now to save her from the pangs of agony she is rolling in.

Perhaps, for once, we should all be ready to die if that will mean saving our nation from destruction. We are the ones who can create hope for posterity. We can create a better Malawi for ourselves and our children. We must stand up and fight, or else we are doomed to be tormented by they that don’t even understand our history.

Well, as a writer, I have fervently refrained from writing my emotions in very explicit ways; but what is here comes from the deep recesses of my heart. Being a university student myself – my education progress brought to a pause by the gathering conceit of this regime – I keenly feel the pain of Robert’s death; this young man who will not be coming back sooner or later.

If death were some divine entity that would listen to the cries of they that are left behind, perhaps Robert Chasowa’s life would be revived by our tears. But death chooses to enter calm places where the pain would be so enormous. And, to those agents of death who slayed Robert, may peace be like gold dust to them. May they live to be haunted forever till they face God’s judgment at the end of their lives.

As we mourn the death of Robert, shouldn’t we sit down and reflect upon our country’s progress? Shouldn’t we judge that at least our patience has been strained to the limit? Should our humility continue costing lives that fervently fight for change? Perhaps, time has come for us to be humble no more. Maybe, this is the time we must rise and realign things in Malawi. We have the capacity to do so if we band together in hope and unity.