Good people, it’s shocking our beloved Warm Heart of Africa has become a nation of killers, the worst birthplace for persons with albinism in the world.
What happened to this God-fearing nation of ours?
This is the question that races to mind as persons with albinism are being forced to restrict their movement to a necessary minimum since they live in fear of the prevailing killings, abductions and exhumations.
A day hardly passes without hearing media accounts of the gruesome attacks that have become talk of every marketplace, workplace and beer-place.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” concurs DJ Wachikaya, who lights up special nights at Little Havanna in Mzuzu. In the nightclub at Mzuzu’s Old Town, it is not unusual to hear the selector reply Culture’s Innocent Blood, sermonising the revellers that “innocent blood [of people with albinism] mustn’t be shed down.”
“Listen to what I’m saying!” he says. “Think a little, think a little, think a little, think a little. People with albinism are not goods for sale, but human being like you and I”.
When the fallen Jamaican reggae star Joseph Hill and his band released the tune, they wanted equal rights and justice for all.
Stunningly, Wachikayakaya uyu uses it dial up remind you and I to think rationally because it is better to languish in poverty than drink like a rich person who sheds innocent blood.
Calling for clean cash, the selector sternly states bloody money said to be trickling down from the ritualistic murders of have no place in the 21st century.
Ignore the coloured lights, smoke and jovial humanity dancing in circles.
The message mirrors a desperate solo effort to tackle a cocktail of superstition and poverty which has left the endangered minority in a spiral of fear, discrimination and deprivation.
This is commendable.
Let’s spread the message until there is no escape from the tidings of equal and fair treatment of all peoples as the country searches for lasting solutions to the bloody atrocities.
Like Wachikayakaya often says, I found myself nodding.
Yes! Yes! Yes!
‘Yes’ is not a trivial amen, the most abused language of your beer-place, marketplace or workplace.
It entails total complicity to the things we find acceptable—and ending these senseless killings is one of them.
Not doing anything terribly vindicates Al Franken’s Lies and the Liars who Tell Them in which Malawi gets a mention as a nation of dunderheads who believe their wealth lies in witchcraft instead of hard work and innovativeness.
Ndiyeno! By the way, Mzuzu will play home to the first Miss Malawi auditions tomorrow. Let the race to the crown begin.
The hiatus of the prestigious beauty contest did not deprive Malawians gazes at girls of lose morals, but a noble search for human faces of everything good about the nation. The beautiful looks. The functioning brains. The confidence. All those smiles. The unique wear.
The zeal to sell our hugely endowed country as an irresistible tourist attraction in the world, not a no-go zone for people who look different.
This is the Miss Malawi those with the requisite brainpower, appearances and the guts must join in, for Malawi cries for believable persons to tell the world we are a warm-hearted people like any other, nor cold-blood murderers.