A walk through the sharp edges of ‘Dzuka Malawi’

I was bitter and angry. The young men had just stimulated my orgasm of shame. I was so ashamed for not knowing. They explained in simple, but clear terms the hardships that my clan faced.

They spoke with authority and determination, recalling the good things that our ancestors enjoyed many years ago when the land was still on its virginity state.

The young men explained his bitterness on how we have abused the land, taking away the dignity for nothing. He mentioned the growing corruption practice, disregard for the rule of law and the attrocities being committed under our guard.

I felt afraid. Afraid for their  dear lives. What if the CEO of suffering heard them. Whats better than death, fearful than fear, I coughed my fears away and gave him my ears. They now had my full attention as they continued beating ignorance out of our poor souls dwelling in a rich land.

One of the young men narrated of his Uncle’s big shop that had turned to a mare Canteen following the coming of a mysterious man from a far land who started his selling joint as a Canteen, only to end up a wholesale, swallowing that of a local, poor Uncle. Truthfully, similar to scenarios that my first grade teacher called “Vice Versa” each time he assessed my home work.

The young man, in his 20s continued to school us, explaining how foreigners from distant lands had impregnated our Mother land with their astray semen making us look barren for producing nothing worthy their recommendation after years of struggle.

According to the young man, they have deemed us useless in the presence of our very own giant creatures that dangled between our legs.

In the end, the young man, with his friends preached of unity, peace and pleaded with all of us to have a burning desire for success to better our lives and claim back the lost glory we had thrown to the dogs through the very same “rights” we are entitled to, including what the the rest of the world term as “the right to VOTE.”

He was just bitter and worried that we were still going to elongate to moment of suffering through the very same “right to vote” that the world bestowed upon our naked knowledge.

As I was beginning to recognise their voices, respect their knowledge and join their good call for action, I heard a knock on my door. I woke up, realised it was just a dream.

Simultaneously, the knock kept on and I forced myself out of bed, went out of befroom straight to the front door, opened it. I saw four young men I had seen in my dreams telling me they are on a journey to wake Malawi up from the sleep of shame.

The youngmen were Fredokiss, Kalawe, Martse and Mwanache, carrying a very big and old styled radio cassette listening to their remix “Dzuka Malawi.”

I have risen from my sleep and joined the fight. Malawi needs to wake up and fight for her second freedom. Look at all these levels of unemployment, foreigners’ dominance, unfulfilled dreams, internal insecurity and many more.

The radio cassette is now on my shoulders listening to the song of the moment “Dzuka Malawi Remix” that can be downloaded on this link –http://m.malawi-music.com/song.php?id=3239

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