Barack, Thanks

Dear Barack, I wonder whether it’s worth writing this. The odds of you ever reading this don’t look pretty good. I will, however, write anyway.

I am writing many thousands of kilometres away from America or even your ancestral home Kenya. I have never been to America although like Giddes Chalamanda, I hope one day my dream of visiting your union of states will come to pass.

This is madness. I have plenty of things I can write about here at home. We have a runaway economy, #FeesMustFall, nagging electricity or water problems.

We, the warm hearts of Africa seem of late to turn into beasts as well, so I could have written about ‘hyenas’ busy spreading HIV/Aids through some loose cultural practices that seems not to understand that in this twitter generation they long outlasted their welcome, or how some men—and I am sure they are most men—are killing and maiming our brothers and sisters with albinism.

So shameful is the act that your counterpart here, His Excellency Professor Peter Mutharika is losing sleep with such men just as you do about terror groups like ISIS.

UK’s Prince Harry sneaked into the country this week, so if I really wanted to write about animals but be positive, I have fodder on the historic transfer of elephants within Malawi involving some 500 elephants. It could have boasted our tourism, perhaps. We need the money to be spent on university education which some elitists have decided it should be a privilege to a few; condemning many with exorbitant fees without a cushion of a loan.

Yet I write you. And I have the audacity just to call you Barry, as if we are long time friends. Or as if I am American and not a Malawian where I have to address a leader by his full official title, (check how I have addressed our president above) which is often mouthful too, everywhere.

But I write Barack, because you inspired me eight years ago when you run for White House and as you finally leave the Oval Office, I am grateful.

As a black young man—no, as an African, I was proud of your mere achievement just to run for such an office. I was impressed by your rhetoric and your life story.

I fell in love with Michelle, (sorry Barry I just had to admit it) and Maria and Sasha.  I bought your book Audicity of Hope and borrowed Dreams of my Fathers. I loved you. I admired you.

I was, however, afraid.

I was afraid for you as much as myself. In my three decades here on earth, I have seen so many false starts. There have been so many sad endings to sweet starts. I was afraid White House will crash your legacy with failure. I was afraid of losing your position in my heart, too.

But the eight years have been a huge success, you have returned the respect the world had for America and revamped the US economy. What else Barry?  You have retained our love.

As that comedian Larry Wilmore joked at the recent White House Correspondents Dinner: “Yo Barry, my nigga, you did it”.

So, go Barry to rest, by that, you will mock the Robert Mugabes of this world. And you will forever remind us of the power of the American dream and inspire us to search for our own African and Malawian dreams. Go Barry! n