Floored with sachet liquor at one of the shacks-cum-pubs along the Devil Street in Luwinga aka Mzuzu last Friday, Diehard Pakwawo – my new friend in town – confessed that things aren’t fine in the country.
Of course, I couldn’t agree less.
But it will be absolute injustice to say that under the leadership of Masiteni this is a lacking nation. We have everything at our ‘disposal’ – fluctuating fuel prices, safe maizehood, shoe donations – except money. Money, to be gospel truthful light talkers, has become a scarce commodity.
In Mzuzu, Malawi’s most generous and cheap city, money has humbled the mighty from the glittering stools of Sports Cafe and Mzuzu Hotel to the shacks-cum-bars of Devil Street in Luwinga, Mzilawayingwe, Area 1B
and; of course, Zolozolo where a mere MKW30 or MKW 25 – depending on your negotiation antics – can buy a full Coca-Cola bottle of local brewed wine from Nyaukandawire.
So, as we downed myriad of liquor sachets along the Devil Street, we thought and talked about these things.
Interestingly, it seems, people who drink along the Devil Street – most of them, as Diehard Pakwawo and I found out, primary school drop-outs – are for Masiteni come May 20.
“Mama uyu wakubwata,” [this woman is hot] said one of such men after a long silence of listening to Skeffa’s Dalitsani Okondedwa. “Food is everywhere.”
Diehard Pakwawo and I looked at him keenly. “Which food are you talking about?” Diehard retaliated. “You mean you people cannot see the ilk of Mama’s mediocre government?”
“It isn’t smelly,” another of the men chipped in. “It has never been. But that other one was, especially towards the very end.”
“What about cash-gate?” Diehard asked.
There was graveyard quietude, save for the blaring gumba-gumbas.
“What’s cash-gate?” the first man asked. “We’re the people who vote and we are telling you that Mama will win. What are you?”
“You well-to-do people,” the second man returned. “To hell with your Bottlestore politics! You simply practice Bottlestore politics which end the moment you finish the last of your Carlsberg Chills every Friday.
“We are the voters. We are the frustrated citizens. If we are not here it means we are somewhere drinking Kachasu on credit. Mama may have failed in one way or another but we, the voters, are telling you that she is going to make it. We don’t know cash-gate and all that nonsense you’re talking about. We care about food which Masiteni is earnestly providing.”
“You may vote for your black cock or yellow fever,” the first man said with finality. “But the fact is that Mama akubwata and we will vote for her.”
Diehard Pakwawo told me it was time to leave.
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