There is no better place where the spirit of togetherness and brotherly love flourishes with deeper meaning than in Malawi. Here it takes a whole village to raise a child from conception to burial.


“East or west, home is best,” goes one of the beautiful sayings in my sweet homeland even though anthropologists will leave no book unturned in search for theories that discredit such an honest statement of pride as merely ethnocentric and jingoistic.


Mama Malawi occupies a special slot in the universe as the “warm heart of Africa” whereas the media – the so-called “unblinking watchdog” – continues to depict Africans as warring, HIV-struck, hungry, dying and leaving parentless children confined in orphanages where pop stars of sorts can come and adopt them with abandon.Violence has never been Malawians way of living although vanquishing has continued to dent the history of our God-fearing republic through and through.

However, a Malawian will never suffer alone, for everyone of is a keeper of his/her brethren.


Who are we, then? We are a peace-loving people, not that gun-brandishing lot that brings bombs and blood to your TV screen. Disagreements are bound to happen where two people or more stay together –and they arise among us – but our brotherliness compels us to dialogue, dialogue and dialogue until an agreement is reached.


For time immemorial our soil has never known bombs and bloodshed. The nearest we came to armed conflict was in 1959 when our gallant foremothers and forefathers fought in defense of the country’s right to self rule. The oppressive tendencies of British Colonial occupants led a patient people into a consensus that children of the land had to stand up and liberate “the sweet motherland”. The brave took up arms and hundreds were killed (about 24 at Nkhata-bay jetty alone), maimed and jailed by imported soldiers of the “Mighty Queen Mother who art overseas”. Ever since the citizenry that comprises over 30 ethnic tribes has lived in total calm –real unity in diversity


And for your own information, all atrocities the heavily armed colonial invaders committed are completely forgiven with nobody dragged to The Hague for committing crimes against humanity, for we are only happy to have attained the independence they sacrificed to shed blood for and want to devout our precious time to eradicating poverty.


But get this right: Neither are Malawians angels nor the country a look-alike of heaven in totality. However, we are a haven where people cherish to face common problems with shared purpose. A belief has become deep-rooted in our midst that it is wrong to throw away a crumb of food when your “brother” has nothing to eat.


Who is our brother? Our neighbors and neighbors of our neighbors (and the chain continues until the least of people on Earth is served). We do unto them all as we would love them to do unto us. Next time you see a Malawian staggering on TV due to hunger know that the worse has come to the worst and we are all in it together. Extended family? NO! Such close ties make us a self-contained family, for it is manageable –not excessive a bit.


This brings me to the issue of HIV and Aids –the invisible alien we are tirelessly battling to disarm and surmount although those who think we are fighting a losing battle continue to cash in on pictures of our agony. With the prevalence reduced 12 percent from 14.4 three years ago, the aggressive microbe is wreaking havoc in our midst but we are breaking him bit by bit. WE face him neither as star commandos nor as platoons, but as one people: the affected and the infected


Without stigma or discrimination, we bathe, dress and feed our sick brethren. Seeking behavior change, we share best practices even more. And there is always somebody in the family fold to step up and raise the deceased’s children soon after burying our parents.


So musical is this bonding that it transcends generations and borders. Its melodious tune rises from our ancestors gone but not forgotten to the living. It trickles all the way and glues us into that unbreakable self-contained family which some misconceive which the uninformed scholars have tirelessly tried to disband as extended.


I can hear somebody querying: “just two years ago a pop star from overseas adopted one child from one of the numerous orphanages that are sprouting in your country, where was the family bond when the kid ended up in the foreign hands, the orphanage, and the adoptive parents?”


And adds another: “not long ago the dare diva was back in your country to adopt another abandoned baby and it had to take the courts to stop her sweet tune from prevailing?”


The good ole spirit of togetherness and brotherly love is nothing but a song long past its sell-by date. The uncountable problems rocking our society have finally succeeded to disparage our oneness and we need to embrace a new way of doing things.The power of problems of HIV and Hunger magnitude is irresistible.


We as a country ought to mourn the sudden disappearance of foster parents as much as we bemoan the failed adoption. Both leave the helpless young without a home, for an orphanage can never be a substitute for parental care.


We can not continue to burry our heads in the sand. There has never been an era where every Malawian has been for himself and only God for us all as now. The verbal vendettas and power struggle that dominate our politics need to come to a stop because leaders can use the energy and time they lose in castigating and frustrating each other to work together towards building a better world for the powerless poor.

The bickering of bigwigs in MAMA LAND is worse than the wrath of bombs and bloodshed elsewhere.Cry my beloved country.

The Second Coming of the Songbird

BY WABWEKA


Cry my beloved country, read the Preamble
“The gods of this city are dead and forgotten
The bonds lie threadbare and flesh rotten
Godless children grapple and grumble

No ways, said the content, no ways!
“Burial breaks no bone and gods remain upright
Ancestors’ graves become gravel sites
And their remains highways and taxiways”

Hear hawks hover, blared the gong
“Behold dare devil pops and descends at will
Landing, cruising, swooping for a kill
And finally pounces on helpless chicks for another song

Arise countrymen, shouted the conclusion
But the watchdog was not too old to bark and bite
Empty and hungry, the hawk flew out of sight
For even the songbird that sings for the gods lands

END NOTE
Completed on 17 April 2000 just three weeks after Malawi’s High Court in Lilongwe rebuffed Madonna Louise Coccine’s application to adopt Mercy Jere. Coming against the backdrop of the fast-track adoption of David Banda of Mchinji two years ago, the second coming of the celebrated American pop star brought into question the efficacy of ‘archaic’ laws and the strength of the age-old bonds in Malawi, a country where it takes a whole village to raise a child. Whither the spirit of oneness if our children – the so-called orphans – end up in orphanages where they can be adopted, instead of their next of kin’s homes where they can be nurtured and feel at home?