Postcard from Africa - Two Faces of Malawi - Lilongwe, the capital city of Malawi and the city of Blantyre named by Dr. David Livingstone after his hometown in Scotland, are bustling with upcoming elections. But Malawi has another Face...

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TWO FACES OF MALAWI - 22 February, 1999

Lilongwe, the capital city of Malawi and the city of Blantyre named by Dr. David Livingstone after his hometown in Scotland, are bustling with political gossip. All due to upcoming elections. I quickly realised that the ordinary Malawians appeared to be unconcerned and carrying on with their day to day chores to survive.

Malawi is scheduled to hold its second democratic presidential and parliamentary elections on May 18, 1999 but observers say poor planning could threaten the democratic process.

Voter registration in the elections when President Bakili Muluzi and his United Democratic Front face their main rival, the Malawi Congress Party (MCP) has been put off twice and the Electoral Commission has taken delivery of only one million of a required 4.8 million registration forms.

For 30 years Malawi was ruled by the late dictator Hastings Banda. He finally submitted to the ballot box in 1994, and saw his MCP ousted by Muluzi, a friend turned foe. International donors who keep the tobacco-dependent economy afloat are watching closely to ensure the voting is fair and some say they would not object to a two-month delay in order to ensure the elections are well planned and executed. Recent presidential pressure on the Electoral Commission to increase the number of parliamentary seats in the south of the country where Muluzi has his support base did not go down well. Muluzi has sensed rising resentment to his rule. Last month, in a radio address, he warned of plans to overthrow his government if it was returned to power.

It is more relaxed on the Lake and in the north suggested a lady teller at the Bank where I changed my American dollars into the local currency the Kwacha. She must have noticed my long face I thought. I took up her challenge and got on the luxury boat on Lake Malawi to go north. Are you going to the Likoma islands, asked the captain as he welcomed me aboard. The furthest north, I responded, Karonga then, he confirmed.

The bank teller was right I spent an uneventful three days and nights on the Boat, basking in the sunset and buying sweet-potatoes and enjoying the peanuts sold by women and children who canoed to the Boat when ever it stopped over.

With no notion where to go or why, I picked up my guitar and backpack and chose the first path leading from the tiny wharf at Karonga. Everyone greeted me in the local Tumbuka language. "Mawona, Mawona", and the ladies and girls quetsied as they greeted me. A man pushing a bicycle paced up to me and asked if he could try his hand at my nylon string guitar. I obliged. I haven’t played for so long, I am a bit rusty, said the middle aged man who introduced himself as James Ncandu.

We stopped by the pathway as he strummed a jazzy rhythm singing in Bemba a language spoken in north western Zambia. I am actually from Zambia, James enthusiastically informed me. I discovered that part of his family was in Zambia, others in Tanzania across the border and the rest in Malawi. An accident of the colonial boundaries demarcated at the Berlin conference when Africa was caked up and divided by the colonial powers who did not seem to consider traditional or ethnic boundaries.

James asked me where I was headed. I am just touring the place, relaxing a little bit I said. James declared I was his guest and vehemently

discouraged me from booking at the cheap Guesthouse. He invited me to his home. As we approached his grass thatched huts, he called for his wife announcing that he had brought a visitor. The wife, the kids, and the neighbours all came and heartily welcomed me. We all sat around a fire under the stars and James and me swopped playing the guitar. I belted the blues and the kids danced until the dust around the fire made me choke and splatter.

Put away the guitar now, announced James wife. James handed it over and she held it like a new born baby placing it against the wall of the grass thatch hut. She went into one of the huts and brought roasted cassava, yams, sour milk and cooked dry pumpkin leaves. What a delicious meal. The kids went to eat inside the hut.

After supper they all gathered around the fire while James fired questions at me and all listened attentively. Most anxious , they wanted to know what it was like in the city, let alone in Malawi or Zimbabwe from whence I had come.

James informed me that I did not have to wake up early but that we would all go to the "Mapenenga" ceremony the next day. I did not ask what Mapenenga was. I just surrendered to my host.

After walking through thick bush for about five kilometres James and me arrived at a spot cleared in the middle of the forest. This is it he told me. A few people had already gathered. I recognised James’ wife who had gone earlier disappearing into the bush. In no time, about 300 people gathered at the spot. Except for me, they had their faces painted in red, blue green and white colours, some wore masks, but they all wore very colourful costumes. Women were walking around with baskets full of what they called "Ground meat". It looked like sliced meat balls. I am vegeterean, I declined. No eat, they insisted explaining that this was a tuber similar to sweet potato and was from no animal.

The men kept disappearing into the tall Savanna grass and with most you could only see their heads or not at all. I assumed nature was calling until one of the men invited me into the tall grass. I was offered one of the grass straws which emerged from the ground. Drink, he said. The women had earlier dug pots of the brew into the ground and none of it was to be drank at the cleared spot, they told me.

We all then gathered at the cleared spot while introductions were made and indeed, there were delegations from Zambia, Malawi and Tanzania. In any case the three countries converge at this spot. James later explained to me that the three governments do not bother them as long as they do not stray too far from the borders. How far?, I wanted to know. Oh 5 or 50 miles, it depends, he retorted.

Trumpets made from gourds and reed flutes were blown to the beat of tens of drums.

We all danced and had fun until sunrise.

"Mapenenga" I was lectured, is a thanks giving ceremony performed around October on a date agreed by all the elders. It actually means "Get Crazy" or "get Your Yahs Yahs out".

I really enjoyed myself. I thought it most appropriate not to ask about elections.