Zikhale’s Ruthless War on Refugees: How Malawi’s Homeland Security Chief Drove a Humanitarian into Exile
One year ago, I was forced to flee the only country I had known as home for 21 years—not because I broke the law, but because I dared to defend the rights of refugees. My exile was not the result of a fair legal process, but a targeted campaign of intimidation, smear, and silent persecution orchestrated by none other than Ken Zikhale Ng’oma, Malawi’s then-Minister of Homeland Security.
Zikhale didn’t just fail the refugee community—he waged war against it. Under his leadership, the Ministry became a tool of fear and suppression. He twisted facts, manipulated state machinery, and criminalized compassion. His mission was clear: crush anyone who dared to stand in the way of his politically fueled, xenophobic agenda. I happened to be one of those people. For offering hope to the vulnerable, I became a target.
The threats escalated quickly. My family lived in constant fear. My children were terrified every time I arrived home late. We had sleepless nights, haunted by the possibility of state agents, traffickers, or worse.
Zikhale’s Ministry—while failing to dismantle real trafficking networks—chose instead to destroy my reputation. They pressured organizations I had worked with for years, leading to my unjust removal from the board of Jesuit Refugee Services. All because I spoke out for those with no voice.
Let’s be clear: this wasn’t policy—it was persecution. While Zikhale turned a blind eye to armed trafficking syndicates and international plots against Rwandan dissidents, he focused the full weight of state power on silencing a refugee advocate. Why? Because empathy is dangerous in a system addicted to control. Because in a nation where cruelty has become convenient, kindness is now treated like treason.
But they didn’t win.
Even in exile, I continue my mission. Through Inua Advocacy and global partnerships, I remain a voice for the voiceless. My absence from Malawi is physical, not spiritual—I still fight for legal reform, dignity for refugees, and a future where humanity is not illegal.
Zikhale may have abused his power, but his legacy will not be one of strength—it will be one of shame. History will remember not just what he did, but what he failed to do: protect the vulnerable, uphold human rights, and lead with justice. He drove me from my home, but he will never silence the truth.
To those still in Malawi—refugees, allies, and fellow citizens—I say: keep standing. A new law is coming. A new era of dignity will rise. And when it does, let it be known that not even Zikhale’s iron grip could stop the flood of justice.
To God be the glory. The fight continues.
