The song is powerful. It is philosophical, too.
Rich man, share the riches with the poor
Before they share the poverty with you
Man, share the riches with the poor
Before they share the poverty with you.
This song by Culture resonates well with umunthu philosophy which Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu likes to talk about: that you cannot be fully you if your neighbour is not fully himself or herself, meaning you cannot live a happy life and talk about balanced diet when your neighbour is sleeping on an empty stomach.
The world has enough for everyone, only if the resources were distributed each according to their need. The challenge, and it’s a real one, is that resources are distributed through chainstores, hence the poor cannot afford what they want while the rich can afford what they don’t need. The final danger is that if the rich do not share their riches, the poor share their poverty. Exactly what is happening in the world today.
How can the poor share their poverty with the rich in a world whose economy has been growing at about three percent every year? Of course, the economy of all countries—except Burma and Zimbabwe—has been growing. But the gap between the rich and the poor has also been growing. Here is how and why.
HIV and AIDS
One reason, perhaps the main one, HIV remains a threat is sexual relationships outside marriage by both men and women married and single.
If people were faithful to themselves before marriage and faithful to their partner in marriage, we would not have been talking about HIV at the grand scale we do. But this is not as simple as it reads here. Poverty has sent hundreds of girls and women into prostitution. They earn a living from selling sex to men who can afford such temporary pleasures.
The girls and women have poverty and their bodies. The men and boys have money and lust for sex. The result is that the two sides share poverty. They do not share wealth.
This is how poverty is shared from the poor woman to the rich man. The woman, let us consider, has HIV and to make more money she sells herself for sex (and unprotected sex for more money, hence she is HIV positive). This status does not stop her from selling raw sex (let us use this term for unprotected sex). Thus she passes on the virus to more men.
Now let us take one man who catches the virus from such a sex worker. He passes on the virus to his wife. For whatever reason the couple does not test until the woman is pregnant and loses energy to the extent that the pregnancy is a cause for worry. The rest is history. It is still surprising that in this day some people do not accept their HIV status to benefit from antiretroviral therapy. They choose to die.
What next? The man dies—for whatever reasons, the man is often the first to die. Next the woman goes and leaves children without parents, without any idea about the sources of income the parents had, without a sense of direction for the future. And you know how orphans are suffering in Malawi and elsewhere.
A lady greeted me in Blantyre recently. I could not remember her, really but she greeted me with confidence. I stopped and asked who she was. This is becoming necessary, especially now when I have lectured (part-time) for four years at Chancellor College and one year at Polytechnic.
They maybe my former students, I tell myself always. She was not any of those I taught. We once stayed in the same neighbourhood in Chimwankhunda in Blantyre. She must have been young and I did not notice really someone growing up over 10 houses away.
What are you doing? I asked.
She said this and that, this and that, finally she realised she said nothing.
But she greeted me, so I had the right to know about a person who knew me. Thus I insisted to know about her. Then she told me a story, a long one and I was kind to listen to it. She married in 2005, upon falling pregnant. (I left Chimwankhunda in 2000.) She has a three-year-old girl now. The marriage is over. The girls is with its grandmother in a small house in Chimwankhunda. The mother of three I met is working in a bar in Lunzu. In short, this is a story about poverty.
Now you have money to buy beer or sex or both. You will get her one of these days and when you build trust in each other, you will begin to have unprotected sex. If she has HIV, you will be at risk of catching the virus.
Have you tried business? I asked.
Yes, she said. I was selling soap from Mozambique.
So, what happened to the business?
I lost the capital.
How?
My daughter was sick and I blew up my capital on hospital expenses.
What else could she do? If she lost her capital (money), she has not lost all capital (her body). This is what she is selling now.
How much was the capital of your business? I asked.
I can do with anything between K4,000 and K6,000.
Would you go back into business if you had this capital?
Very much. Actually I want to raise some money but I am not sure this will be possible because I am getting very little.
We parted. But I kept on thinking about this experience. When children stretch their arms, asking for alms, are they really asking for alms or love? They ask for love, not money. We can avoid sharing the girls poverty if we give her K6,000 for her soap business. Just K6,000. I can afford that, but my money, in this modern world, is for myself. I cannot share it with the poor. The result is that they will share me their poverty.
Environment
Nkula in Blantyre is a source of two forms of power: hydro and charcoal. The two forms of power are competitors; they do not necessarily complement each other.
Nkula hydro-power station is one of three on Shire River. The other two being Tedzani, seven kilometres down the river from Nkula; and Kapichira in Majete Game Reserve in Chikwawa. The area around Nkula, or put clearly, the catchment area for Nkula, may loosely stretches from Blantyre to Mwanza.
Once, this catchment area was full of trees. Now it is growing bare. Charcoal makers are among major culprits. They are still cutting trees, even those that are not there.
The result is bad news for Escom’s Nkula Reservoir which has a volume of three and a half million cubic metres. The bad news is that half of the reservoir is taken by silt, one major problem haunting Escom. This silt comes from all over in the upper Shire River, even from Karonga and beyond. But most part of the silt comes from Nkula Reservoirs’s immediate catchment area.
While Escom struggles to remove the silt that takes up half the reservoir, people in Nkula and beyond, in the hills, struggle to make charcoal.
Both Escom and charcoal makers are serving the same customers—you and me, in Blantyre. We want electricity from Escom. We also want charcoal to help during blackouts. And because power goes out often, the demand for charcoal keeps on increasing, resulting into more trees being cut, and more soil being washed down into Nkula Reservoir.
It is a vicious cycle that seems unstoppable. Charcoal makers know they are harming Nkula catchment area and the environment. There are hundreds and hundreds of bags of charcoal coming into Blantyre everyday on bicycles and lorries and small cars, even saloons.
Davie Mpasu is a 21-year-old boy from Chapeta Village, T/A Mlauli in Neno. He is a guardian and breadwinner for himself and his two brothers—John 14 and George 17. Their father died in 2003 followed by their mother in 2005.
A whole world, recalls Davie, collapsed. Then, he was 18 and he had to care for his brothers. Yet he had nothing. He was just a typical Malawian first-born who inherited nothing—except land—from parents. It is common in Malawi. They had to start from a scratch. The immediate solution was charcoal making.
"Kupanga makala sikufuna, ndi kuzingwa. Making charcoal is not by choice. It’s out of desperation," says Davie. "If we had an alternative, we would jump on that."
Davie has not seen any charcoal maker whose life has improved. This is true. Mark Samson, 42, lives in Mchotseni Four Village where he has been making charcoal since 1986 but he remains as poor as he was 22 years ago; perhaps poorer. He has a small house of mud wall and a roof that leaks when it rains.
"This business is for mere survival," says Samson, shaking his head. Indeed. It is just bare existence. He had no shirt, his chest was bare. It was hot, of course. But does he have a shirt to wear at home?
Charcoal makers know they are doing a disservice to Malawi. But there is something strong and strange about poverty that makes people do what is bad for themselves and others. In a way, they share their poverty and all people become poor.
Poverty does not only attack pockets, it attacks the brain. What the charcoal makers need is not sale of their product but a redemption of their mind from the poverty that has attacked them.
Otherwise, charcoal makers don’t bother about electricity, so they share their darkness with everybody else because of siltation at Nkula Reservoir which results from soil erosion which, in the Nkula catchment area, comes from deforestation which mainly results from charcoal making using trees often cut carelessly.
We just need to help the charcoal makers find alternatives and manage the few that may remain in the business.
Conclusion
I can go on and on and on citing more areas in which the rich are failing to share their wealth with the poor and, as a result, the poor are sharing their poverty with the rich. This is an article still being written and it is long; perhaps it will turn into a book, perhaps a long essay, over 100 pages gathering dust on my shelf. Hopefully, it will come to a fullstop someday.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Sharing Poverty
Nkula in Blantyre is a source of two forms of power: hydro and charcoal. The two forms of power are competitors; they do not necessarily complement each other.
Nkula hydro-power station is one of three on Shire River. The other two being Tedzani, seven kilometres down the river from Nkula; and Kapichira in Majete Game Reserve in Chikwawa. The area around Nkula, or put clearly, the catchment area for Nkula, may loosely stretches from Blantyre to Mwanza.
Once, this catchment area was full of trees. Now it is growing bare. Charcoal makers are among major culprits. They are still cutting trees, even those that are not there.
The result is bad news for Escom’s Nkula Reservoir which has a volume of three and a half million cubic metres. The bad news is that half of the reservoir is taken by silt, one major problem haunting Escom. This silt comes from all over in the upper Shire River, even from Karonga and beyond. But most part of the silt comes from Nkula Reservoir’s’s immediate catchment area.
While Escom struggles to remove the silt that takes up half the reservoir, people in Nkula and beyond, in the hills, struggle to make charcoal.
Both Escom and charcoal makers are serving the same customers—you and me, in Blantyre. We want electricity from Escom. We also want charcoal to help during blackouts. And because power goes out often, the demand for charcoal keeps on increasing, resulting into more trees being cut, and more soil being washed down into Nkula Reservoir.
It is a vicious cycle that seems unstoppable. Charcoal makers know they are harming Nkula catchment area and the environment. There are hundreds and hundreds of bags of charcoal coming into Blantyre everyday on bicycles and lorries and small cars, even saloons.
Davie Mpasu is a 21-year-old boy from Chapeta Village, T/A Mlauli in Neno. He is a guardian and breadwinner for himself and his two brothers—John 14 and George 17. Their father died in 2003 followed by their mother in 2005.
A whole world, recalls Davie, collapsed. Then, he was 18 and he had to care for his brothers. Yet he had nothing. He was just a typical Malawian first-born who inherited nothing—except land—from parents. It is common in Malawi. They had to start from a scratch. The immediate solution was charcoal making.
"Kupanga makala sikufuna, ndi kuzingwa. Making charcoal is not by choice. It’s out of desperation," says Davie.
There is an element of resignation in his eyes. He, for sure, knows charcoal is a culprit that is ending trees in Malawi. But that is not all. He knows charcoal business is not profitable. What can he do with K500 per bag retail price or K300 per bag wholesale price? (The wholesale business takes place right in the bush.)
He is often dirty, partly because handling charcoal results into dirt and partly because he does not have enough money to buy soap that can be used daily.
The work itself is tiresome. One has to cut a tree or trees, dig a tunnel, put the trees in that tunnel and burn them. It sounds easy and short. But it is not. Nkula and Mwanza are hot areas and cutting a tree is not an easy job; so, too, digging a tunnel, especially because every time a charcoal maker has to dig a new tunnel where pieces of wood have to be arranged systematically.
It is a process that takes two weeks to produce 10 bags, for example, and make K3,000 if sold by wholesale or K5,000 if sold by retail.
Consider that this is work that involves several people and some have to be paid from the same K5,000 or K3,000. At the end of the day, one walks away with K2,000 or K3,000 or something about such figures. This K2,000 is not enough to buy a bag of maize, hence the charcoal maker remains poor because in a month he makes between K4,000 and K5,000—out of hard labour.
"If we had an alternative, we would jump on that," says Davie, wearing a short trousers just like his two brothers.
It is hot, of course, but for them it is because they are saving the shirts they have. It appears easy when you have two or three or four or five or six shirts but there are people who have one shirt and when they wake up they have no choice, they know what to wear.
"I have not seen any charcoal maker whose life has improved," says Davie. This is true. Mark Samson, 42, lives in Mchotseni Four Village where he has been making charcoal since 1986 but he remains as poor as he was 22 years ago; perhaps poorer. He has a small house of mud wall and a roof that leaks when it rains.
"This business is for mere survival," says Samson, shaking his head. Indeed. He had no shirt, his chest was bare. It was hot, of course. But does he have a shirt to wear at home?
The charcoal made kilometres into the hills that make Kirk Range is sold on the road to Mwanza. Hundreds of bags are sold a couple of hundred metres from Kamuzu Bridge on Shire River at a place commonly called Zalewa.
But it is not charcoal only that is seen along the road from Lunzu to Mwanza. Now people are in quarry. They are spending hours in the sun turning big stones into small stones for the construction industry. They spend hours in the sun, using all sizes of hammers from the heaviest to the lightest.
At Mchotseni Four Village, there are bags of charcoal on one side of the road, and heaps of stones on the other side. People have cut trees to make charcoal. Now they are into quarry, breaking rocks and big stones into small stones. They have destroyed the home of birds and some reptiles that live in trees. Now they are destroying rocks, the home of reptiles and some insects.
The hills on the road to Mwanza are bare, with stones and rocks only. Trees were cut. Soon even the rocks and stones will disappear. Perhaps the hills will disappear in the long-range, so Nkula reservoir will disappear too because maybe Shire River will not be there. It sounds unimaginable but it is a possibility at the rate the environment is being destroyed.
There is a song by Culture titled ‘Share the Riches’. It is philosophical.
Rich man, share the riches with the poor
Before they share the poverty with you
Man, share the riches with the poor
Before they share the poverty with you.
This resonates well with umunthu philosophy which Bishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu likes to talk about: that you cannot be fully you if your neighbour is not fully himself or herself, meaning you cannot live a happy life and talk about balanced diet when your neighbour is sleeping on an empty stomach.
If the rich do not share their riches, the poor share their poverty. Exactly what is happening in Blantyre and Mwanza which form the wide catchment area of Nkula.
Charcoal makers know they are doing a disservice to Malawi. But there is something strong and strange about poverty that makes people do what is bad for themselves and others. In a way, they share their poverty and all people become poor.
Poverty does not only attack pockets, it attacks the brain. What the charcoal makers need is not sale of their product but a redemption of their mind from the poverty that has attacked them.
Otherwise, charcoal makers don’t bother about electricity, so they share their darkness with everybody else because of siltation at Nkula Reservoir which results from soil erosion which, in the Nkula catchment area, comes from deforestation which mainly results from charcoal making using trees often cut carelessly.
Note: A longer article of the same title will be pasted in a week’s time.
Nkula hydro-power station is one of three on Shire River. The other two being Tedzani, seven kilometres down the river from Nkula; and Kapichira in Majete Game Reserve in Chikwawa. The area around Nkula, or put clearly, the catchment area for Nkula, may loosely stretches from Blantyre to Mwanza.
Once, this catchment area was full of trees. Now it is growing bare. Charcoal makers are among major culprits. They are still cutting trees, even those that are not there.
The result is bad news for Escom’s Nkula Reservoir which has a volume of three and a half million cubic metres. The bad news is that half of the reservoir is taken by silt, one major problem haunting Escom. This silt comes from all over in the upper Shire River, even from Karonga and beyond. But most part of the silt comes from Nkula Reservoir’s’s immediate catchment area.
While Escom struggles to remove the silt that takes up half the reservoir, people in Nkula and beyond, in the hills, struggle to make charcoal.
Both Escom and charcoal makers are serving the same customers—you and me, in Blantyre. We want electricity from Escom. We also want charcoal to help during blackouts. And because power goes out often, the demand for charcoal keeps on increasing, resulting into more trees being cut, and more soil being washed down into Nkula Reservoir.
It is a vicious cycle that seems unstoppable. Charcoal makers know they are harming Nkula catchment area and the environment. There are hundreds and hundreds of bags of charcoal coming into Blantyre everyday on bicycles and lorries and small cars, even saloons.
Davie Mpasu is a 21-year-old boy from Chapeta Village, T/A Mlauli in Neno. He is a guardian and breadwinner for himself and his two brothers—John 14 and George 17. Their father died in 2003 followed by their mother in 2005.
A whole world, recalls Davie, collapsed. Then, he was 18 and he had to care for his brothers. Yet he had nothing. He was just a typical Malawian first-born who inherited nothing—except land—from parents. It is common in Malawi. They had to start from a scratch. The immediate solution was charcoal making.
"Kupanga makala sikufuna, ndi kuzingwa. Making charcoal is not by choice. It’s out of desperation," says Davie.
There is an element of resignation in his eyes. He, for sure, knows charcoal is a culprit that is ending trees in Malawi. But that is not all. He knows charcoal business is not profitable. What can he do with K500 per bag retail price or K300 per bag wholesale price? (The wholesale business takes place right in the bush.)
He is often dirty, partly because handling charcoal results into dirt and partly because he does not have enough money to buy soap that can be used daily.
The work itself is tiresome. One has to cut a tree or trees, dig a tunnel, put the trees in that tunnel and burn them. It sounds easy and short. But it is not. Nkula and Mwanza are hot areas and cutting a tree is not an easy job; so, too, digging a tunnel, especially because every time a charcoal maker has to dig a new tunnel where pieces of wood have to be arranged systematically.
It is a process that takes two weeks to produce 10 bags, for example, and make K3,000 if sold by wholesale or K5,000 if sold by retail.
Consider that this is work that involves several people and some have to be paid from the same K5,000 or K3,000. At the end of the day, one walks away with K2,000 or K3,000 or something about such figures. This K2,000 is not enough to buy a bag of maize, hence the charcoal maker remains poor because in a month he makes between K4,000 and K5,000—out of hard labour.
"If we had an alternative, we would jump on that," says Davie, wearing a short trousers just like his two brothers.
It is hot, of course, but for them it is because they are saving the shirts they have. It appears easy when you have two or three or four or five or six shirts but there are people who have one shirt and when they wake up they have no choice, they know what to wear.
"I have not seen any charcoal maker whose life has improved," says Davie. This is true. Mark Samson, 42, lives in Mchotseni Four Village where he has been making charcoal since 1986 but he remains as poor as he was 22 years ago; perhaps poorer. He has a small house of mud wall and a roof that leaks when it rains.
"This business is for mere survival," says Samson, shaking his head. Indeed. He had no shirt, his chest was bare. It was hot, of course. But does he have a shirt to wear at home?
The charcoal made kilometres into the hills that make Kirk Range is sold on the road to Mwanza. Hundreds of bags are sold a couple of hundred metres from Kamuzu Bridge on Shire River at a place commonly called Zalewa.
But it is not charcoal only that is seen along the road from Lunzu to Mwanza. Now people are in quarry. They are spending hours in the sun turning big stones into small stones for the construction industry. They spend hours in the sun, using all sizes of hammers from the heaviest to the lightest.
At Mchotseni Four Village, there are bags of charcoal on one side of the road, and heaps of stones on the other side. People have cut trees to make charcoal. Now they are into quarry, breaking rocks and big stones into small stones. They have destroyed the home of birds and some reptiles that live in trees. Now they are destroying rocks, the home of reptiles and some insects.
The hills on the road to Mwanza are bare, with stones and rocks only. Trees were cut. Soon even the rocks and stones will disappear. Perhaps the hills will disappear in the long-range, so Nkula reservoir will disappear too because maybe Shire River will not be there. It sounds unimaginable but it is a possibility at the rate the environment is being destroyed.
There is a song by Culture titled ‘Share the Riches’. It is philosophical.
Rich man, share the riches with the poor
Before they share the poverty with you
Man, share the riches with the poor
Before they share the poverty with you.
This resonates well with umunthu philosophy which Bishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu likes to talk about: that you cannot be fully you if your neighbour is not fully himself or herself, meaning you cannot live a happy life and talk about balanced diet when your neighbour is sleeping on an empty stomach.
If the rich do not share their riches, the poor share their poverty. Exactly what is happening in Blantyre and Mwanza which form the wide catchment area of Nkula.
Charcoal makers know they are doing a disservice to Malawi. But there is something strong and strange about poverty that makes people do what is bad for themselves and others. In a way, they share their poverty and all people become poor.
Poverty does not only attack pockets, it attacks the brain. What the charcoal makers need is not sale of their product but a redemption of their mind from the poverty that has attacked them.
Otherwise, charcoal makers don’t bother about electricity, so they share their darkness with everybody else because of siltation at Nkula Reservoir which results from soil erosion which, in the Nkula catchment area, comes from deforestation which mainly results from charcoal making using trees often cut carelessly.
Note: A longer article of the same title will be pasted in a week’s time.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
What the U.S. Got Right
There aren’t so many things to learn from the U.S., at least for a postcolonial and cultural theory student like me. But the epic presidential election and its aftermath offers insights worth studying.
It was a grand victory, yet President-elect Barack Obama remained humble, using gracious words in his acceptance speech which was full of humility—and visionary, too.
“It’s been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America,” he told 240,000 supporters in Chicago’s Grand Park. “I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he has fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor [Sarah] Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation’s promise in the months ahead.”
When McCain called to congratulate Obama, he was humbled, saying, “I need your help.”
This is victory with humility. It is a lesson Nelson Mandela likes to teach: that we must defeat others with humility and lose with dignity.
It is a lesson Mandela learned in his boyhood when an animal he rode took him into thorns and left him ashamed. Since then, he made up his mind to win with humility and lose with dignity. This is African wisdom which our friends in the West have upheld over the years and we are abandoning carelessly.
McCain’s concession speech from the Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix, Ariz., said the U.S. media, was everything it had to be—a generous, gracious reminder that when the campaign comes to a close what really matters is a shared enterprise as Americans.
“Sen. Obama and I argued our differences, and he has prevailed,” McCain said. “No doubt many of those differences remain. These are difficult times for our country. I pledge tonight to do all in my power to help him lead us with the many challenges we face. Whatever our differences, we are fellow Americans... and believe me when I say: no association has ever meant more to me than that....”
This is patriotism—love of a country. McCain has fought so many battles, the most popular being the Vietnam War. He has won and lost. But it seems the battle of this election was his last and he lost—but with dignity.
Obama, on his part, accepted the victory in a new way, yet like any other U.S. president. He spoke like a world ruler, not a president confined to the U.S.
It was this acceptance of victory and defeat that Malawi may wish to learn from the U.S. The winner must do so with humility while the loser maintains his dignity.
But this U.S. election was not the first one to offer lessons for all of us. The 2000 election that ushered George W Bush into the White House, only to mess up US’s foreign policy, was also full of lessons.
The loser of that election, Al Gore, won the popular vote and he believes the election was somehow stolen from him. (It is a complicated story of the electoral system of the US.)
As a result, the former vice president fell “out of love with politics,” because he became the fourth man in U.S. history to win the popular vote but lose a presidential election. But in the face of such disappointment, he showed admirable discipline—waking up every day knowing he came so close to victory, believing the Supreme Court was wrong to shut down the Florida recount but never, never, never talking about it publicly because he didn’t want Americans to lose faith in their system.
Lose faith in their system? Yes. Gore knew the Supreme Court robbed him victory. He had a right to complain all his life the way John Tembo or Gwanda Chakuamba do. But Gore knows such complaints take people’s confidence away from their systems.
How many Malawians have faith in the Malawi Electoral Commission? How many of us believe elections can ever be free and fair? How many of us will accept next year’s election results? The challenge we face is that since the reintroduction of multiparty democracy in 1993, the 1994 presidential and parliamentary poll is the only one accepted as free and fair by the presidential candidates.
It was hugely because founding President Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda, accepted results while votes were being counted and he left no room for anyone to complain.
In 1999, Gwanda Chakuamba cried foul. So, too, he did in 2004. Already some people are saying next year’s elections have been rigged. Yet we are five months away from elections. This is so because people love power a lot more than they love their country.
We need to help our people have faith in our systems, especially elections. We can achieve that if our politicians learn to accept polls.
Even when they know they have been robbed of victory as was the case with Al Gore, our politicians must learn the hard patriotism: to accept results and let life go on. In fact, the way to go is to work towards developing an effective electoral process, one that gives power to people. That is one lesson from the U.S.
It was a grand victory, yet President-elect Barack Obama remained humble, using gracious words in his acceptance speech which was full of humility—and visionary, too.
“It’s been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America,” he told 240,000 supporters in Chicago’s Grand Park. “I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he has fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor [Sarah] Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation’s promise in the months ahead.”
When McCain called to congratulate Obama, he was humbled, saying, “I need your help.”
This is victory with humility. It is a lesson Nelson Mandela likes to teach: that we must defeat others with humility and lose with dignity.
It is a lesson Mandela learned in his boyhood when an animal he rode took him into thorns and left him ashamed. Since then, he made up his mind to win with humility and lose with dignity. This is African wisdom which our friends in the West have upheld over the years and we are abandoning carelessly.
McCain’s concession speech from the Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix, Ariz., said the U.S. media, was everything it had to be—a generous, gracious reminder that when the campaign comes to a close what really matters is a shared enterprise as Americans.
“Sen. Obama and I argued our differences, and he has prevailed,” McCain said. “No doubt many of those differences remain. These are difficult times for our country. I pledge tonight to do all in my power to help him lead us with the many challenges we face. Whatever our differences, we are fellow Americans... and believe me when I say: no association has ever meant more to me than that....”
This is patriotism—love of a country. McCain has fought so many battles, the most popular being the Vietnam War. He has won and lost. But it seems the battle of this election was his last and he lost—but with dignity.
Obama, on his part, accepted the victory in a new way, yet like any other U.S. president. He spoke like a world ruler, not a president confined to the U.S.
It was this acceptance of victory and defeat that Malawi may wish to learn from the U.S. The winner must do so with humility while the loser maintains his dignity.
But this U.S. election was not the first one to offer lessons for all of us. The 2000 election that ushered George W Bush into the White House, only to mess up US’s foreign policy, was also full of lessons.
The loser of that election, Al Gore, won the popular vote and he believes the election was somehow stolen from him. (It is a complicated story of the electoral system of the US.)
As a result, the former vice president fell “out of love with politics,” because he became the fourth man in U.S. history to win the popular vote but lose a presidential election. But in the face of such disappointment, he showed admirable discipline—waking up every day knowing he came so close to victory, believing the Supreme Court was wrong to shut down the Florida recount but never, never, never talking about it publicly because he didn’t want Americans to lose faith in their system.
Lose faith in their system? Yes. Gore knew the Supreme Court robbed him victory. He had a right to complain all his life the way John Tembo or Gwanda Chakuamba do. But Gore knows such complaints take people’s confidence away from their systems.
How many Malawians have faith in the Malawi Electoral Commission? How many of us believe elections can ever be free and fair? How many of us will accept next year’s election results? The challenge we face is that since the reintroduction of multiparty democracy in 1993, the 1994 presidential and parliamentary poll is the only one accepted as free and fair by the presidential candidates.
It was hugely because founding President Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda, accepted results while votes were being counted and he left no room for anyone to complain.
In 1999, Gwanda Chakuamba cried foul. So, too, he did in 2004. Already some people are saying next year’s elections have been rigged. Yet we are five months away from elections. This is so because people love power a lot more than they love their country.
We need to help our people have faith in our systems, especially elections. We can achieve that if our politicians learn to accept polls.
Even when they know they have been robbed of victory as was the case with Al Gore, our politicians must learn the hard patriotism: to accept results and let life go on. In fact, the way to go is to work towards developing an effective electoral process, one that gives power to people. That is one lesson from the U.S.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Ngwazi Barack Obama
The question was simple. Who is the wife of David Bekham? I asked my Chancellor College fourth year students. Victoria, they answered in unison.
The next question was equally simple. Who is the wife of Kinnah Phiri? I asked. There was some thinking, a slight laughter, and then sadness. Nobody knew the name of Kinnah Phiri’s wife. I told this story to Kinnah Phiri when we met for an interview recently.
"Bekham is a celebrity," he said. "I am not." Kinnah was, in essence, saying that nobody has made him a celebrity. Celebrities are made, they do not make themselves. They are made by the media. The challenge in Malawi is that we in the media have not gone far to make and sustain celebrities.
We do not cherish our great men and women, boys and girls. One reason is lack of skills to write and produce powerful profiles that build our skilled individuals. The other reason is envy.
Why should I make him great? We ask. Envy is an infection that has infiltrated all sectors of our country and we are fighting poverty, illiteracy and disease, leaving out envy which is a great enemy of development. But I want to know about Kinnah.
There are more things to learn from here than from the West. I really don’t admire Britain and US. I admire our rich ways of life.
But one thing we can learn from the US and Britain is how they make their own celebrities. The last time England won the World Cup was in 1964. Since then, the BBC lists England among the favourites to win the cup every time it is being played. Even two years ago, the BBC was busy saying England could win the cup.
Or think about this: Is David Bekham the world’s greatest player? No. Why, then, was he more popular than any other player in the world?
The reason is the media in Britain builds sons and daughters of the land. There are so many Malawians who have lived meaningful lives, whose stories can help us answer difficult, puzzling questions about life. Think of George Patridge, Rose Mkandawire, Matthews Chikaonda, DD Phiri—the man who introduced me to the art of writing in 1993/94, Rose Chibambo, Cecilia Kadzamira, T/A Chitera, Young Chimodzi, Jack Chamangwana, Lawrence Waya, and Ethel Kamwendo Banda—not apostles who give themselves the title Dr without reading for a PhD; these liars must have their stories buried because they are dangerous to Malawians.
Think of Ngwazi Kamuzu Banda. How many of us know him well? Who is there to tell us about him? Cecilia Kadzamira, John Tembo, Aleke Banda, Gwanda Chakuamba. But are these people telling us anything about the Ngwazi? No yet.
Perhaps the media in Malawi is not to blame. Lack of profiles in our newspapers and programmes is a reflection of lack of a biography writing culture. We can count biographies in Malawi. Professor Brown Chimphamba has one, Bishop James Tengatenga, Vera Chirwa, the late Kanyama Chiume and a few others have also written about themselves.
Aleke Banda, a man with over 50 years of public service, does not have a biography yet. But reading his brief piece in Weekend Nation recently puzzled thousands. The man has a story. It is a story that must be told, and beautifully, so.
But are we going to read about this story? Ask Aleke, not me. Then there is Edge Kanyongolo whose real first name is Fidelis. The story is that he was a very brilliant student and his professors used to say, ‘He has an edge over other students’ to the extent that Edge became his name.
To be honest, I don’t know whether or not this is true. He needs to tell us. But what I do know is that he was detained at Mikuyu while a college student. This, too, is a story that must be told.
Then there are professors who started as primary school teachers, going to evening secondary school classes and passed MSCE, went to teacher training college, finally Chancellor College. And there is a successful woman who was a cleaner at a health centre until she married a graduate who encouraged her to sit for MSCE, went to TTC, Domasi College and finally Chancellor College.
Or do you want me to tell you about my college mate who was a houseboy and was sent to evening classes by his master? He passed JC and MSCE and ended up in the University of Malawi. All these are wonderful stories that must be told in profiles and biographies.
Sadly, we are not telling each other our stories and we lose our history because a country’s history is in the stories of its people. Instead, our stories are told by outsiders. They come and write about the Ngwazi from their perspective.
Who is going to tell our story? We must tell our own story and redeem it from the hands of hijackers.
By the way, the past two years I have been saving for a Christmas holiday in Egypt (the Suez Canal), Greece and Spain. But I will not go for a good reason: the victory of Barack Obama. If you know the history of the US, you should know why Obama, the conqueror, maybe the face of a new America.
My plain view is that I will not spend my money on holiday. Instead, I will fund Inkosi ya Makosi M’mbelwa to witness the swearing-in of Obama on January 20. M’mbelwa will have one task: to crown Obama the Ngwazi of America—or is it the Ngwazi of the world?
I thought M’belwa enjoys giving out this title?
The next question was equally simple. Who is the wife of Kinnah Phiri? I asked. There was some thinking, a slight laughter, and then sadness. Nobody knew the name of Kinnah Phiri’s wife. I told this story to Kinnah Phiri when we met for an interview recently.
"Bekham is a celebrity," he said. "I am not." Kinnah was, in essence, saying that nobody has made him a celebrity. Celebrities are made, they do not make themselves. They are made by the media. The challenge in Malawi is that we in the media have not gone far to make and sustain celebrities.
We do not cherish our great men and women, boys and girls. One reason is lack of skills to write and produce powerful profiles that build our skilled individuals. The other reason is envy.
Why should I make him great? We ask. Envy is an infection that has infiltrated all sectors of our country and we are fighting poverty, illiteracy and disease, leaving out envy which is a great enemy of development. But I want to know about Kinnah.
There are more things to learn from here than from the West. I really don’t admire Britain and US. I admire our rich ways of life.
But one thing we can learn from the US and Britain is how they make their own celebrities. The last time England won the World Cup was in 1964. Since then, the BBC lists England among the favourites to win the cup every time it is being played. Even two years ago, the BBC was busy saying England could win the cup.
Or think about this: Is David Bekham the world’s greatest player? No. Why, then, was he more popular than any other player in the world?
The reason is the media in Britain builds sons and daughters of the land. There are so many Malawians who have lived meaningful lives, whose stories can help us answer difficult, puzzling questions about life. Think of George Patridge, Rose Mkandawire, Matthews Chikaonda, DD Phiri—the man who introduced me to the art of writing in 1993/94, Rose Chibambo, Cecilia Kadzamira, T/A Chitera, Young Chimodzi, Jack Chamangwana, Lawrence Waya, and Ethel Kamwendo Banda—not apostles who give themselves the title Dr without reading for a PhD; these liars must have their stories buried because they are dangerous to Malawians.
Think of Ngwazi Kamuzu Banda. How many of us know him well? Who is there to tell us about him? Cecilia Kadzamira, John Tembo, Aleke Banda, Gwanda Chakuamba. But are these people telling us anything about the Ngwazi? No yet.
Perhaps the media in Malawi is not to blame. Lack of profiles in our newspapers and programmes is a reflection of lack of a biography writing culture. We can count biographies in Malawi. Professor Brown Chimphamba has one, Bishop James Tengatenga, Vera Chirwa, the late Kanyama Chiume and a few others have also written about themselves.
Aleke Banda, a man with over 50 years of public service, does not have a biography yet. But reading his brief piece in Weekend Nation recently puzzled thousands. The man has a story. It is a story that must be told, and beautifully, so.
But are we going to read about this story? Ask Aleke, not me. Then there is Edge Kanyongolo whose real first name is Fidelis. The story is that he was a very brilliant student and his professors used to say, ‘He has an edge over other students’ to the extent that Edge became his name.
To be honest, I don’t know whether or not this is true. He needs to tell us. But what I do know is that he was detained at Mikuyu while a college student. This, too, is a story that must be told.
Then there are professors who started as primary school teachers, going to evening secondary school classes and passed MSCE, went to teacher training college, finally Chancellor College. And there is a successful woman who was a cleaner at a health centre until she married a graduate who encouraged her to sit for MSCE, went to TTC, Domasi College and finally Chancellor College.
Or do you want me to tell you about my college mate who was a houseboy and was sent to evening classes by his master? He passed JC and MSCE and ended up in the University of Malawi. All these are wonderful stories that must be told in profiles and biographies.
Sadly, we are not telling each other our stories and we lose our history because a country’s history is in the stories of its people. Instead, our stories are told by outsiders. They come and write about the Ngwazi from their perspective.
Who is going to tell our story? We must tell our own story and redeem it from the hands of hijackers.
By the way, the past two years I have been saving for a Christmas holiday in Egypt (the Suez Canal), Greece and Spain. But I will not go for a good reason: the victory of Barack Obama. If you know the history of the US, you should know why Obama, the conqueror, maybe the face of a new America.
My plain view is that I will not spend my money on holiday. Instead, I will fund Inkosi ya Makosi M’mbelwa to witness the swearing-in of Obama on January 20. M’mbelwa will have one task: to crown Obama the Ngwazi of America—or is it the Ngwazi of the world?
I thought M’belwa enjoys giving out this title?
So Many PhDs
There is something happening in our country. It is a craze for PhDs. Some people want to be called Dr this of Dr that and the way to get that title is to claim to have a PhD.
And there are those with honorary PhDs. Academically, a person with an honorary PhD is not called Dr this or Dr that. They can indicate that they have an honorary PhD, meaning they have performed, in some aspects of life, to the standards of a PhD.
But not in Malawi, even those with honorary PhDs want to be called Dr. Take the example of Muluzi, the man whose profile is not clear to most Malawians. (By the way, where was he born? What was his primary school? Where did he write JC?) He got an honorary PhD from whatever university and upon return he was called Dr Muluzi, ever since.
This is the first time I am calling him Dr Muluzi just for the sake of this article, otherwise I have no business calling a person who did not go as far as Form Four Dr.
Muluzi and others who have honorary PhDs are not supposed to be called Dr because this is an academic title reserved for those who have been to school, those who have studied for a bachelors, a masters and a doctorate. A PhD means a person can now start learning. A PhD means a person is able to look at the world using some kind of theory to understand issues, events and ideas.
A PhD means one has specialised in some area of study and they are an authority in that area. Now when we call honorary PhDs Dr, what area have they specialised?
The case of honorary PhDs is just one and not a big crime. There are people who don’t have PhDs but claim to have one. They went to the US, Britain or some country and came back claiming they have a PhD. So, they get good jobs, earn a lot of money while the bodies they work for sink down into underperformance. You talk to them and they don’t engage you intellectually and you begin to wonder whether or not they really have a PhD.
I hear even in some academic institutions of higher learning there are some who claim to have a PhD when they don’t. How do they beat the university system? I don’t know. My suspicion is that some people are peers and trust each other without any documentary evidence. If I went to college with Gracian Tukula and he is my principal or registrar, I would just tell him, "I am back with my PhD" and he would believe me, and treat me like a PhD.
The worst thing is that there is rumour—and most serious truths start as rumour—that one or two senior staff in some academic institutions have no masters degrees. They just disappeared for a year or two and came back to say ‘I have a masters’ and their bosses who are their friends believed and treated them as such.
I have a feeling that some members of the generation that is in 40s and 50s are cheating this country a lot in terms of qualifications. They pose as if they are qualified but some of them are not. They insist on experience but working for 25 years, which they call 25 years of experience, does not necessarily mean 25 years of ideas and brilliant performance. Malawi is looking for ideas, not experience which in Malawi is routine.
All over the world, people are realising that some members of the old generation, even those in 60s, are cheating and working as if they are dying tomorrow. They don’t care what happens to their institutions. (Read about the financial crisis in the West and you will begin to believe this.)
But the worst culprits are church leaders who claim to have PhDs when they do not have the papers. They are prominent apostles, or whatever they call themselves. Of course, this issue of PhDs is common to pentecostal churches, not the evangelicals or the traditional Christian denominations. The old, traditional churches—Catholic, CCAP, SDA and others—do not allow fake PhDs, hence we have genuine papers in these churches and they don’t insist on being called Dr.
There is Dr Bonface Tamani who doesn’t bother, so long you call him Father Tamani, that is alright. There is Dr Martin Mtumbuka, who is a genuine PhD but he does not bother about the title. There is Dr Sosten Mfune of the SDA church; he, too, does not really bother but he has a PhD that took him years.
But it is these apostles who are claiming to be Dr this or Dr that when they don’t even know what it means to read for a bachelor’s degree. They don’t know a thesis, don’t even think of a dissertation. But these men of God without shame claim to be apostle Dr this, apostle Dr that. Shame! Even genuine PhDs in these churches are silent. They respect the apostles, giving them the title Dr.
I have no respect for any man of God who claims the title Dr when they don’t have any paper. They are liars, not only that, they give an impression that a PhD is easy to get and their followers, especially young people, may think life is that easy.
As someone who loves young people, I want to see an old generation that cares, that guides, that leads by example, not an old generation that cheats and lies and destroys.
My plain view is that President Bingu wa Mutharika, being chancellor of some of our universities, must ask those who claim the title Dr, to bring out their papers. By being chancellor he is a custodian of academic qualifications in Malawi and they must be guarded most jealously. In fact, Mutharika must start by flying around his own PhD!
And there are those with honorary PhDs. Academically, a person with an honorary PhD is not called Dr this or Dr that. They can indicate that they have an honorary PhD, meaning they have performed, in some aspects of life, to the standards of a PhD.
But not in Malawi, even those with honorary PhDs want to be called Dr. Take the example of Muluzi, the man whose profile is not clear to most Malawians. (By the way, where was he born? What was his primary school? Where did he write JC?) He got an honorary PhD from whatever university and upon return he was called Dr Muluzi, ever since.
This is the first time I am calling him Dr Muluzi just for the sake of this article, otherwise I have no business calling a person who did not go as far as Form Four Dr.
Muluzi and others who have honorary PhDs are not supposed to be called Dr because this is an academic title reserved for those who have been to school, those who have studied for a bachelors, a masters and a doctorate. A PhD means a person can now start learning. A PhD means a person is able to look at the world using some kind of theory to understand issues, events and ideas.
A PhD means one has specialised in some area of study and they are an authority in that area. Now when we call honorary PhDs Dr, what area have they specialised?
The case of honorary PhDs is just one and not a big crime. There are people who don’t have PhDs but claim to have one. They went to the US, Britain or some country and came back claiming they have a PhD. So, they get good jobs, earn a lot of money while the bodies they work for sink down into underperformance. You talk to them and they don’t engage you intellectually and you begin to wonder whether or not they really have a PhD.
I hear even in some academic institutions of higher learning there are some who claim to have a PhD when they don’t. How do they beat the university system? I don’t know. My suspicion is that some people are peers and trust each other without any documentary evidence. If I went to college with Gracian Tukula and he is my principal or registrar, I would just tell him, "I am back with my PhD" and he would believe me, and treat me like a PhD.
The worst thing is that there is rumour—and most serious truths start as rumour—that one or two senior staff in some academic institutions have no masters degrees. They just disappeared for a year or two and came back to say ‘I have a masters’ and their bosses who are their friends believed and treated them as such.
I have a feeling that some members of the generation that is in 40s and 50s are cheating this country a lot in terms of qualifications. They pose as if they are qualified but some of them are not. They insist on experience but working for 25 years, which they call 25 years of experience, does not necessarily mean 25 years of ideas and brilliant performance. Malawi is looking for ideas, not experience which in Malawi is routine.
All over the world, people are realising that some members of the old generation, even those in 60s, are cheating and working as if they are dying tomorrow. They don’t care what happens to their institutions. (Read about the financial crisis in the West and you will begin to believe this.)
But the worst culprits are church leaders who claim to have PhDs when they do not have the papers. They are prominent apostles, or whatever they call themselves. Of course, this issue of PhDs is common to pentecostal churches, not the evangelicals or the traditional Christian denominations. The old, traditional churches—Catholic, CCAP, SDA and others—do not allow fake PhDs, hence we have genuine papers in these churches and they don’t insist on being called Dr.
There is Dr Bonface Tamani who doesn’t bother, so long you call him Father Tamani, that is alright. There is Dr Martin Mtumbuka, who is a genuine PhD but he does not bother about the title. There is Dr Sosten Mfune of the SDA church; he, too, does not really bother but he has a PhD that took him years.
But it is these apostles who are claiming to be Dr this or Dr that when they don’t even know what it means to read for a bachelor’s degree. They don’t know a thesis, don’t even think of a dissertation. But these men of God without shame claim to be apostle Dr this, apostle Dr that. Shame! Even genuine PhDs in these churches are silent. They respect the apostles, giving them the title Dr.
I have no respect for any man of God who claims the title Dr when they don’t have any paper. They are liars, not only that, they give an impression that a PhD is easy to get and their followers, especially young people, may think life is that easy.
As someone who loves young people, I want to see an old generation that cares, that guides, that leads by example, not an old generation that cheats and lies and destroys.
My plain view is that President Bingu wa Mutharika, being chancellor of some of our universities, must ask those who claim the title Dr, to bring out their papers. By being chancellor he is a custodian of academic qualifications in Malawi and they must be guarded most jealously. In fact, Mutharika must start by flying around his own PhD!
Monday, November 3, 2008
‘Our Success is Team Work'
The Flames have made it into the final phase of qualifiers of Nations Cup and World Cup. Who is responsible for this success of a team that was turning into losers on the continent. I put this and other questions to national team coach Kinnah Phiri.
Me: It seems to me people are not sure who is responsible for the recent success of the Flames. Is it the coach? Players? Football Association of Malawi? Sports Council of Malawi? Or what is responsible for this success?
Kinnah: Good governance.
Me: I never expected that answer. What about good governance?
Kinnah: Good governance in general. [But] it starts with money. There is money to construct roads and bridges; there is money to pay me as coach and fund functions of the national team. Football is part of a national structure. When there is good governance along the structure, things work. I did not bring new players. I inherited a team that was losing time and again. What has changed?
Me: That is the question that should be answered.
Kinnah: It is the leadership. No leadership, no success. It starts with the President [Bingu wa Mutharika], the Sports Minister Mr Vuwa Kaunda, the Sports Council of Malawi where Mr [George] Jana is doing good job; then we come to Fam where Mr Walter Nyamilandu is doing things properly and then it comes to Kinnah Phiri running the national team properly. It is a joint effort. Success does not come from one person. There is no way you can fail to produce good results when the set-up is good.
Me: Where is players’ commitment?
Kinnah: It is about good leadership at all levels. Players can be committed when leadership is good. I have said that this team was called useless. I took over the same team and it is successful now.
Me: And juju, what is the place of juju in football?
Kinnah: We can believe in juju, but it does not work. Juju cannot score a goal. It works psychologically. In football, we talk about playing properly.
Me: In a recent interview, you said you do not fear big teams.
Kinnah: We don’t fear big teams. We will play normally. We will play as we play any other team.
Me: No specific way of playing?
Kinnah: I cannot go into particulars of tactics because our competitors will know our formulas.
Me: What about Didier Drogba?
Kinnah: He is playing in a big league. He is a good player but he can be marked properly.
Me: How?
Kinnah: He will be playing as a team, not as an individual. If you cut his services he won’t be a good player.
Me: Cut his services. How would that happen?
Kinnah: No, no, no. I am not saying anything tactical. We are going to prepare normally, no special preparations apart from what we have been doing.
Me: There are five groups, each with four teams. If we are among number one to three we will go to Angola for Cup of Nations in January 2010; if we are number one, we will go to South Africa for 2010 World Cup. What is your destination?
Kinnah: Our aim is to take the Flames to South Africa. Whatever happens, we want to be in South Africa.
And if I ask you how, you will say nothing tactical.
Kinnah: Of course.
Me: OK. Sept Blatter accused England of breaking a soccer cardinal law when it hired an Italian Fabio Capello as a national coach for the English side. Blatter said a national coach team must speak the same language with his players. Do you agree with Blatter?
Kinnah: I agree.
Me: Why?
Kinnah: Football is played in a culture. You can’t leave culture out of football. A coach needs to understand his players and that understanding comes from speaking the same language.
Let me say this, football is more than playing on the field. We do counselling. The players face challenges which some of us faced and we discuss those things. It is important that we understand their challenges in the context of [our] culture.
Me: What about coaching on the pitch and language?
Kinnah: Football players have an inborn talent that needs to be enhanced. Some may not be educated and we know if you are a Malawian and speak English, you must be educated. Now, should we keep out a player because he does not speak English? We can realise the full potential of players when they speak the same language with a coach.
Me: Is that all? Can a foreign coach really want the Flames to win all the time? Would he feel a loss the way you, being a Malawian, would? If he is from England, for example, and we are meeting England, in whatever cup, would he want Malawi to beat his home country?
Kinnah: A foreign coach is here for money [while] a local coach is here for love of the country. A foreign coach has to make money and enjoy in his home country. Have you ever seen a foreign coach who built a house here and made Malawi his home? But Malawi is my home and this is where I will invest.
Me: You can choose to invest outside Malawi. It is not automatic that you are a Malawian and you invest in Malawi.
Kinnah: No. Then I would have stayed on in South Africa. I love my country and I want to be part of those developing Malawi.
Me: You were a great player and now you are turning into a great coach. But I have never heard about any of your sons turning into great players. Are you worried?
Kinnah: I have three boys and all of them concentrated on education. Two are in the United kingdom; one is doing a masters in IT, the other is doing architecture. My first born, Foster, was a good player but had a serious injury while a student at MCA [Malawi College of Accountancy], and that stopped his rise [on the soccer ladder].
Me: Are you worried that your sons have not lived your soccer name?
Kinnah: No. They have their own future in what they are doing.
Me: What is your message to Malawians?
Kinnah: They must keep on wearing red. They must love their country by supporting the national team and they must come to games in large numbers.
Me: It seems to me people are not sure who is responsible for the recent success of the Flames. Is it the coach? Players? Football Association of Malawi? Sports Council of Malawi? Or what is responsible for this success?
Kinnah: Good governance.
Me: I never expected that answer. What about good governance?
Kinnah: Good governance in general. [But] it starts with money. There is money to construct roads and bridges; there is money to pay me as coach and fund functions of the national team. Football is part of a national structure. When there is good governance along the structure, things work. I did not bring new players. I inherited a team that was losing time and again. What has changed?
Me: That is the question that should be answered.
Kinnah: It is the leadership. No leadership, no success. It starts with the President [Bingu wa Mutharika], the Sports Minister Mr Vuwa Kaunda, the Sports Council of Malawi where Mr [George] Jana is doing good job; then we come to Fam where Mr Walter Nyamilandu is doing things properly and then it comes to Kinnah Phiri running the national team properly. It is a joint effort. Success does not come from one person. There is no way you can fail to produce good results when the set-up is good.
Me: Where is players’ commitment?
Kinnah: It is about good leadership at all levels. Players can be committed when leadership is good. I have said that this team was called useless. I took over the same team and it is successful now.
Me: And juju, what is the place of juju in football?
Kinnah: We can believe in juju, but it does not work. Juju cannot score a goal. It works psychologically. In football, we talk about playing properly.
Me: In a recent interview, you said you do not fear big teams.
Kinnah: We don’t fear big teams. We will play normally. We will play as we play any other team.
Me: No specific way of playing?
Kinnah: I cannot go into particulars of tactics because our competitors will know our formulas.
Me: What about Didier Drogba?
Kinnah: He is playing in a big league. He is a good player but he can be marked properly.
Me: How?
Kinnah: He will be playing as a team, not as an individual. If you cut his services he won’t be a good player.
Me: Cut his services. How would that happen?
Kinnah: No, no, no. I am not saying anything tactical. We are going to prepare normally, no special preparations apart from what we have been doing.
Me: There are five groups, each with four teams. If we are among number one to three we will go to Angola for Cup of Nations in January 2010; if we are number one, we will go to South Africa for 2010 World Cup. What is your destination?
Kinnah: Our aim is to take the Flames to South Africa. Whatever happens, we want to be in South Africa.
And if I ask you how, you will say nothing tactical.
Kinnah: Of course.
Me: OK. Sept Blatter accused England of breaking a soccer cardinal law when it hired an Italian Fabio Capello as a national coach for the English side. Blatter said a national coach team must speak the same language with his players. Do you agree with Blatter?
Kinnah: I agree.
Me: Why?
Kinnah: Football is played in a culture. You can’t leave culture out of football. A coach needs to understand his players and that understanding comes from speaking the same language.
Let me say this, football is more than playing on the field. We do counselling. The players face challenges which some of us faced and we discuss those things. It is important that we understand their challenges in the context of [our] culture.
Me: What about coaching on the pitch and language?
Kinnah: Football players have an inborn talent that needs to be enhanced. Some may not be educated and we know if you are a Malawian and speak English, you must be educated. Now, should we keep out a player because he does not speak English? We can realise the full potential of players when they speak the same language with a coach.
Me: Is that all? Can a foreign coach really want the Flames to win all the time? Would he feel a loss the way you, being a Malawian, would? If he is from England, for example, and we are meeting England, in whatever cup, would he want Malawi to beat his home country?
Kinnah: A foreign coach is here for money [while] a local coach is here for love of the country. A foreign coach has to make money and enjoy in his home country. Have you ever seen a foreign coach who built a house here and made Malawi his home? But Malawi is my home and this is where I will invest.
Me: You can choose to invest outside Malawi. It is not automatic that you are a Malawian and you invest in Malawi.
Kinnah: No. Then I would have stayed on in South Africa. I love my country and I want to be part of those developing Malawi.
Me: You were a great player and now you are turning into a great coach. But I have never heard about any of your sons turning into great players. Are you worried?
Kinnah: I have three boys and all of them concentrated on education. Two are in the United kingdom; one is doing a masters in IT, the other is doing architecture. My first born, Foster, was a good player but had a serious injury while a student at MCA [Malawi College of Accountancy], and that stopped his rise [on the soccer ladder].
Me: Are you worried that your sons have not lived your soccer name?
Kinnah: No. They have their own future in what they are doing.
Me: What is your message to Malawians?
Kinnah: They must keep on wearing red. They must love their country by supporting the national team and they must come to games in large numbers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
