A vote for the nation

At the break of dawn I am staggering across the room, like a man succumbing to the effects of an intoxicating drink, as I make my way to the bathroom.

A turn of the knob and the water splashes out with a rapid burst, the coldness of the water catching me unaware. My body jerks backwards, in a split second of reflex action I bump my head on the overhead cabinet behind me. I moan agonizingly in the pain. I am not staggering anymore, in an instant I am fully awake and my senses are operating at 3 cups of coffee. As if to retaliate, I walk out of the shower angrily and put on some clothes, the shower is a failed mission.

This is not any other ordinary day, this is the 20th day of the 5th month of the year of our Lord 2014. This is the day the Malawian nation elects a leader to guide the nation for at least 5 years, God willing.

After all has been said through flamboyant campaign trails far exceeding the pomp of a thousand royal wedding processions, one leader will be chosen.

The trip to the polling station is short, accompanied by my housemates, jokes and laughter echo all round. Faces beaming with eagerness and anticipation of a bright future not promised to us.

I step out of the car with such intent and importance in my walk as if I am about to address a United Nations Assembly. A quick check for my voter ID in the wallet and next thing you know I am standing in line. Shielded from the cold abrasive morning winds by a black hoody and double layered pants, I am ready to cast the vote.

A glimpse of the queues, filled with people of all walks of life, gets me to think of our role as Malawians in this matrimonial act of democracy.

The aphorism that democracy is a game of numbers plays out innocently in the minds of many until you cynically add to it that at times all the fools can be on one side. At the end of the week, you could be a fool who voted for the ruling party or the fool whose party did not make it.

Calls to vote wisely have been rife on social networks you could be mistaken ‘’wisely’’ was the name of a presidential candidate. However, all in all, there is no wisdom when you cast a vote, just an opinion.

I do not wish to lay waste my words by being concerned with the abstract thoughts lingering in the minds of all these people. However, for as long as it is from these thoughts that an opinion is formed, and from this opinion a government is elected and supported, it can never be considered as a matter of little consequence.

The interest of the people in a leader lies not in what is promised but in what will be done for the nation. This is the premise upon which a vote is cast, action, long lasting action and not masquerades, white elephants and illusions.

We neither reside in dreams nor visions, but in the realities of the common man’s needs. The need to satisfy oneself in times of hunger; the need to get medication when afflicted; the need to live under a roof; and most of all the need to be dignified. I do not mean to demean the importance of dreams and visions, oh no, but if they are but words of no substance, they are mere rumors and tales.

Not everyone can agree, no absolute majority can be struck, no unanimous decision will be reached, this is the nature of a democratic system or so be it any system that operates on a consensus. There will always be winners and losers in an election. It is the responsibility of the winner to govern with resolute honesty and for the loser to provide balances and checks like a true statesman.

The paramount truth is that no single citizen’s opinion is wrong. How we arrive at our individual opinion may be flawed due to limitations of exposure to facts and other factors, but this does not invalidate one’s opinion. The opinion is an absolute. That is why every citizen has a constitutional right to vote and to do it only once. It is this opinion, no matter how it is arrived at, that carries the day. It is this opinion that supports a government, without which chaos is inevitable as a government is run by oppression.

A vote cast is cast in vain if it is cast for an individual and not the nation. Irrespective of the different ideologies, principles, and characters embedded in the presidential candidates, the furtherance of the country should far supersede our lines of differences. We can love different political parties but our love for the nation should be indifferent. The unearthing of this deeper love is what should unite us irrespective of who we voted for. This is a true and patriotic vote.

Democracy begins with the embrace of differences, an understanding that in the absence of differences, there would be no need for a democracy as one rule would suffice. It is astonishing to see people present dogmatic statements and show no willingness to listen to opposing views and yet attest their subscription to democracy. Baffling! An oxymoron of some sort.

The vote that is most important is not the vote that is cast for the winning candidate neither is it that vote cast for the losing candidate, but rather the vote that is cast and is counted. This is the vote for the nation.

At the front of the line now, with a patriotic vote to cast. God bless Malawi.

Who can fathom?

Majestically she carries herself with royal steps, flawless to the eye it is almost as if time around her is frozen. You can feel the sound of her steps thump on your heart, distinct by their cold and lasting chilling effect. Her form is imposing on all who catch a glimpse, her frame never changing from age to age. Every household knows about her, her visits though common are dreaded. When she visits, how much you lose is not up for debate or deliberation. Arbitration in any court is futile. We are bound by a mutual unilateral contract, for a lack of a better expression. Today ladies and gentlemen, I am being paid that visit.

It is eight o’clock in the morning, a beautiful Friday morning, when my phone rings. I dash to my desk to pick the call and I see it is one of my good friends, a friend beyond a friend actually, one I consider my brother. I pick up the phone in haste, with a tone of such vibrant energy I could stand out as a radio presenter. With a standard salutation 101 afforded to my brothers, I call out his nickname with such confidence and eagerness.... ‘What up TC’, I say, waiting for him to state the purpose of his early call. There is something strange in how he acknowledges my greeting, it is somewhat formal by any standards expected from him as he calls me out by my given name and not my nickname. I can sense a broken dialect in his tone, something is wrong. Thoughts are running through my head at speeds I cannot decipher, I can feel my heart thumping harder and faster, my concentration is heightened as if I am bracing for an impact. There is a pause before he utters his next words which does little to help my anxiety levels which by now are in overdrive. “He is gone, Wanangwa is gone, apparently he was in a car accident and he didn’t make it”, he says, I respond as a child, “What do you mean”? Of course I know what he means, but the human nature in me is in a momentary state of denial.

Time freezes around me. He repeats his words, almost angrily as if he is shouting at his younger brother, and adds one more detail. I learn he was with Lusayo, another brother of mine.

I pause, I am literally trying to embezzle words out of my mouth to say something sensible but nothing comes out. I can feel my insides collapse, that sickening feeling in your stomach. I reach for my chair and collapse my body on it. I can say nothing more but a simple okay.

It is that visit and she has visited and it has pleased her to leave with two of my brothers. It is hard enough to handle one loss, but two? This is atrocious! This is death visiting, her visit ever more damning.
This has been a loss I seldom can fathom and comprehend. Fists clinched, with tears drawing by the door of my eyes in a room of helplessness. I punch the wall with weak and flimsy punches like those of a woman.

I am resigned to a sense of defeat and self-pity in the face of this visit, yet somewhere deep in my soul I am compounded by joy when I turn and look at the lives my brothers led. This is confusing to the core of the soul. A seasoned veteran like me shouldn’t be asking this question, yet I am inclined to ask, Why?

There is a moment or two of deep silence in my soul, everything around me is muted, it is as if everything is in slow motion. I am still hoping this is a lie or a dream or a prank that Sayo has pulled, he is capable of such after all. It is in that faint hope I gather up energy within me and pick up the phone to call one of my brothers who would be in the know how. It is dialing, but there is no answer, and the wait seems endless. Finally he picks up, and in a calm and collected voice I ask how he is doing. All this in an attempt to feign ignorance of what I just heard, like feeling the temperature of the water with your feet before you dip in. Futile, his immediate response is one I dreaded the most as he confirms my fears.

Still I refuse to give in, I turn that hope of this being a prank to the hope that a mistake has been made, somewhere somehow. Maybe the accident has happened but it was not as fatal.

I pace out of my office without speaking to anyone, I am racing on the road like a minibus driver heading for Sayo’s house which is some 5 minutes away from my office. I arrive at the house and I am met by chaotic scenes, distraught faces are littered everywhere outside the house. By now the little hope I had has withered away.

I walk into the house and there lies my brother’s wife, prostrate on the couch with a friend holding her hand. She is consumed by inconsolable grief, her cries piercing to the soul. I approach the side of the couch and hold her hand; she calls out my name, tears flowing from her eyes in a storm of cries. I can only say two words, ‘‘take heart’’, I stay there speechless before walking out the door.

There is no procedure on how to deal with death, no manual whatsoever, how do you console her, where do you even start from I ponder to myself. But this one thing I have learnt, and that is to say as little as you can.

Men are conferring in small pockets of gatherings outside the house; you can almost cut the intensity with a knife. Everyone is in a state of shock and disbelief. Someone taps my shoulder from behind, I turn around and it is a face I recognize. We sit down and he shares the little information he has gathered thus far.

There are moments of idleness as I sit down under a tree shade to try and grasp everything. Then it hits me, Wanangwa is also gone. At this time I am thinking of his wife, his sister, brothers and mother. I must go see them. This is just too surreal, what part of the game is this, if I could be in two places at once it did be better. This is just unfair I mammer to myself.

It is a drive across the opposite end of town from Sayo’s house, just over 10 minutes’ drive with rush hour traffic. I am dashing between two houses to mourn my brothers, how can this be? What is this? I didn’t sign up for this. In no time I arrive at the house, met by Wanangwa’s sister. Her eyes bloodshot, her movement clearly burdened by the loss. It is hard to look into her eyes, it is even harder to say anything. I am sitting there almost like a dumb person and she is doing all of the talking. It is tough. But if I won’t be there, who will be?

Over the next few days I am hoping from one house to the other, I confirm that the most one can do in this situations is to keep quiet and let your presence do the consoling. Utter a lot of words in these trying times and you will be assured to do more damage than harm. Hearing some of the things that are said when people try to console the bereaved is evidence of more stupidity in words and more wisdom in silence. Words like ‘I know how it feels’ should be banned at funerals, they are too belittling and insulting almost. People offer the weirdest advice I tell you; do not cry because you need to show that you are strong; in an attempt to console Wanagwa’s wife one lady says, ‘’look, I have been married for over 20 years, you have only been married for less than a year, be strong.’’ What? Ironically these so called consoling words offered lighter moments of laughter as I chatted with Wanangwa’s sister. People can be very insensitive at a time when they need to be very sensitive and unwittingly. Deadly unintentional mistakes.

These were my friends but most importantly my brothers. I have known Wanangwa since high school, for over 15 years we had been friends. I have known Sayo since my college days, over 10 years we had been friends. Their lives demand a lot from me. I call them modern day missionaries. Never a dull moment I remember being spent with these boys.

Wanangwa was a continuous bundle of joy with such a timid and humble heart. He was a man ever so passionate about his service to the Lord and evermore resilient to the cause of Christ. I have never had a friend and a brother with such a simple and beautiful soul. His love for dancing was testament to the joy he possessed. Never to pick needless arguments, smiling most of the time. I had always teased him together with my friends about his dark skin complexion. This was the banter we shared amongst ourselves as friends and brothers, everyone was picked on.

In all the years I have known Sayo, he has forever been passionate about his service to Christ, the greatest similarity he shared with Wanangwa. His willingness to sacrifice for the Lord was in his nature. A calm collected gentleman but quick to express his dissatisfaction if you are delaying the work of the Lord. On the few projects I had worked with him there were times I had to pull him back so he could catch a few breaths as I took hold of the situation in a more timid manner, with the exception of a few cases when we did both be short fused. Moments I cherish the most. Music was his soul, if I was in need of new gospel hip hop music, I knew where to go.

There is much more I can write of my two friends, my brothers, Sayo and Wanangwa but that will be for another day and a book.

I have been compounded by grief to the core of defeat, nothing for now seems to be interesting or as exciting. I have temporarily lost the energy, I don’t know how long it will take. The 27th of December was going to be Wanagwa’s birthday, which will not be happening again, at least in this life.

It is tragic when young men below the age of 30 leave us, it is tragic when parents have to lay a wreath on their son’s graves, and it is tragic when you leave young widows behind. Is there anyone who can fathom, let alone face it, are we resigned to its evermore consuming powers? Who among us can tame its ferocity, ceaseless in its stride, scornfully majestic it continues to laugh in our sorrows.

I take solace in the fact that my brothers passed on in the course of serving God, tragic as it is, glorious it will be, now and forever. Their souls I have known all these years and this I know, they will want me to celebrate their lives. Tears are never ending but I am consoled by the wonderful life they shared with me and many souls.

Life erupts in bursts of joy, laughter, happiness, sadness, and painful moments. To ponder with the question ‘why’ over matters of death is inevitably to venture into an abyss of no answers. A room with a hundred doors but no way out.

Sayo once shared me a podcast which shared about life and the preacher said, ‘living a long life isn’t necessarily living a full life.’

‘‘I ask you neither for health nor for sickness, for life nor for death; but that you may dispose of my health and my sickness, my life and my death, for your glory….You alone know what is expedient for me; you are the sovereign master; do with me according to your will. Give to me, or take away from me, only conform my will to yours. I know but one thing, Lord, that it is good to follow you, and bad to offend you. Apart from that, I know not what is good or bad in anything. I know not what is most profitable to me, health or sickness, wealth or poverty, nor anything else in the world. That discernment is beyond the power of men or angels, and is hidden among the secrets of your Providence, which I adore, but do not seek to fathom.’’ – a prayer by Blaise Pascal

In loving memory of my brothers and friends,

Lusayo Mhango
Wanangwa Sanga

Knowing what she wants

I scream, I am throwing a tantrum, I am punching the walls, I am in a raging fit, I cannot understand, it is beyond my comprehension.

I am quick to judge, I hasten to degrade and demean. How can a simple concept ever elude her so much? I am willing to give her everything, even mine own life, well almost. Yet she seems to neglect and ignore these great and seemingly ultimate sacrifices. How? I am bewildered to say the least. I am amazed and appalled.

This is a sense of deja vu throughout the course of my infantile life. I see and hear the same stories over and over again like a broken record. She always seems to leave the one who is willing to give the most to be with the one who will not give up a finger nail. What on earth am I missing?

Henceforth I journeyed through all my life's experiences and those of other people in trying to see past the 'men are from Mars and women are from Venus' paradigm.

The phone rings, ardently I pick up. A friend I share with my trivia and solemn concerns has finally called. I have been expecting her call. So eager to let things off my chest I have no time for salutations...'why do you do these things, why, what should a man do to have you', I speak as a demented person seeking answers only a mad jury can provide. By now she is bursting into laughter knowing this is one of those phone sessions.

I narrate to her a story of a girl who has just dumped her boyfriend of 10 years with a simple sms of 'it's over'. This is a guy who has done all he could, well seemingly all he could to be with her forever, and he is repaid by an sms, which did not detail the fact that she was now seeing someone else.

Her response was stupendous and amazing, an eye opener, it could easily pass for an A+ in medical or law school. She tells me in a calm and collected voice, befitting a royal, 'the mere fact that you men are faithful makes you think you deserve her, that's not it.'

I am amazed, only this time, with a sense of understanding. This has never come across me like this. Nerves in my cerebrum are enthused by this small revelation that cascades to the logic that makes me assert this audacious claim that I now know what she wants.

It matters not what a man will do, whether he will cut off his limb, go to the moon and back, jump a cliff, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if at the end of it all it does not make her happy. The moment a man cannot make her better half smile, laugh, or cry, as long as she is not happy, he has lost the battle. He is expired, defunct, useless chuff; he needs to be made redundant. Simple, just like the theory of evolution, well almost.

8 out of 10 women I have asked have admitted to me without second guessing that they would rather be with a man who cheats on them but makes them happy, than be with a man who is faithful but does not make them happy. Happiness to a woman is not about what you do, no; it is about the things you do that will make her happy.

What then can a man do to keep her? The answer is a plain simple, nothing. A bit crude you may say, but the reality of it all is that men are lazy in nature; they will exert minimal effort when it comes to relationships. What a man can best do is to live his ordinary life, if a woman is attracted by this, what a beautiful couple this will be. If a man resorts to extras that are beyond him, it’s a whole different ball game.

A man who goes out of his way to make a woman happy will not last the second mile. His natural self will get the better of him; he will slack and blend in to his normalcy, his unattractive normalcy. Game over.

let he who has not loved before.....

I have been around numerous people of all walks of life and they all seem to share one common mark in their lives,a mark of love.

I have had my fair beating I will admit of this animal we call love,one way or the other and I will tell you it isn't pretty but it isn't too bad neither. It is almost a religious type of experience,it can only be admired if you have fallen captive to it. When you are in it,you will enjoy it but not without some pain.

It seems to every supernatural experience there is a sacrifice to be borne and I wonder if the sacrifice of love is the heart. How you love someone so much it hurts. To feel that longing to be with someone will tend to uplift you yet dampen you at the same time,especially when that someone is not around. The dynamics similar to those of a storm at sea that came from nowhere and calms as quickly as it started.

The topic so broad I cannot exhaust on an infinite piece of paper.

It feels good to love someone and to be loved and that can hardly be disputed,but the same goes of how love can hurt at times.

Then there comes that monster all hearts fear,the heartbreak. I could stop right here but let me continue a bit more. Is it possible there is a mature lady or gentleman out there who has never had their heart broken? I would love to know of this individual.

The reality of it all is that it always takes another heart to break another. It will break you if you love someone and they don't love you back. It will break your heart if you love too much. It will break your heart when this revelation comes to you. It will break your heart even more when you cannot accept that the other person doesn't love you back.

It appears to be a paradox that people who you love the most don't love you back the same,whether this is true or not,I cannot say for I have not been through the heart of every man.

Then comes the recovery or should I say the comeback after a heartbreak. It comes in different places and at different times with different people. Others will recover faster than others while others will take a bit more time,well maybe more than necessary.

I sat down one afternoon and I happened to come accross a song by Don Williams titled 'you fool my heart',I think that's the title. I strongly related with the lyrics this artist sung...'fool,fool heart,what have you done,I thought by now you had enough,but no you had me falling in love again...fool fool heart,guess you never learnt,taking chances like what you doing is smart..my fool heart...fool fool heart,how quickly you forget...just when you were about to mend you feel like you in luck so you try it again..' I earnestly think these words are priceless in defining the recovery process of love as well as the secret of love. In as much as it usually hurts us,most people and I emphasize 'most people' will tend to go back into it. Is it because we can't live without it? I don't know.

It goes beyond rocket science how we tread within our heart now and in the future.

I could write a lot but I will lose track too many times.

I exit with this advice,no matter how someone says they love you,if they can't show it with their actions,if they are not willing to make sacrifices for you or part away with somethings,they don't love you.