President Peter Mutharika Moving Away From Bingu's Dream

They were brothers to boot.

In fact, it was one brother, former president Bingu wa Mutharika, who plucked Peter Mutharika, Malawi's incumbent president, from the United States of America where he had been thing as professor.

And, since his introduction in 2008, President Peter Mutharika has moved on to become Malawi's president, having shrugged off Joyce Banda and her People's Party in the 2014 Tripartite Elections.

However, Peter, too willing to distance himself from the Bingu wa Mutharika who plucked him from near oblivion, has started touting things Bingu wa Mutharika took for granted.

For example, while Bingu wa Mutharika openly made fun of boreholes, saying they were not sustainable, president Peter Mutharika was on Monday all over the sky, celebrating that his government has constructed 12 boreholes under Central Region Water Board.

By all standards,  Peter was supposed to be ashamed that a whole water board has reduced itself to a borehole-driller, instead of providing safe, tapped water to people.

Peter's shift is, indeed, ambarrassing.

Bingu wa right and Peter is wrong.

FOR ZOMBA

There comes a time when, as Richard Washburn Child— former United States of America Ambassador to Italy; yes, he who wrote the foreword in Benito Mussolini’s ‘My Autobiography’— puts it, one reaches fourth to touch reality in himself, and finds that he himself has gone a little forward, isolated, determined, illusive, untouchable, just out of reach— onward!

Well, it must be that time.

One day, three years ago, I made Zomba my second home under the pinch of necessity.

But, then, the movement itself was just soup; the main dish was hope that, once I would stumble in the trenches of tertiary education, I would leave ignorance— ignorance and my own uncertainty— behind.

Well, it has happened. But it has not happened.

Why? Because where I went [Zomba]— which I thought was the future; more less like a forward movement— has only brought me back to what I left behind [in Blantyre]. That is, experience. Life’s experience.

So much so that, as I go back to Blantyre, turning my back on Zomba, I realise that the forward move I made has, through its lessons, only taken me back to ‘The behind’— the world that was supposed to remain behind. That world is not Blantyre; that world is life.

Now, I will let Benito Mussolini speak for me:

"I do not believe in the supposed influence of books. I do not believe in the influence which comes from perusing the books about the lives and characters of men.

For myself, I have had only one great teacher.

The book is life— lived.

The teacher is day-by-day experience.

The reality of experience is far more eloquent than all the theories and philosophies on all the tongues and on all the shelves.

I have never, with closed eyes, accepted the thoughts of others when they were estimating events and realities either in the normal course of things or when the situation appeared exceptional."

Now, I do not know what I am saying.

And, so, let me leave Zomba behind. To Blantyre; where I will know what to think, believe and say.

I do not know what I am saying!

FOR ZOMBA

There comes a time when, as Richard Washburn Child— former United States of America Ambassador to Italy; yes, he who wrote the foreword in Benito Mussolini’s ‘My Autobiography’— puts it, one reaches fourth to touch reality in himself, and finds that he himself has gone a little forward, isolated, determined, illusive, untouchable, just out of reach— onward!

Well, it must be that time.

One day, three years ago, I made Zomba my second home under the pinch of necessity.

But, then, the movement itself was just soup; the main dish was hope that, once I would stumble in the trenches of tertiary education, I would leave ignorance— ignorance and my own uncertainty— behind.

Well, it has happened. But it has not happened.

Why? Because where I went [Zomba]— which I thought was the future; more less like a forward movement— has only brought me back to what I left behind [in Blantyre]. That is, experience. Life’s experience.

So much so that, as I go back to Blantyre, turning my back on Zomba, I realise that the forward move I made has, through its lessons, only taken me back to ‘The behind’— the world that was supposed to remain behind. That world is not Blantyre; that world is life.

Now, I will let Benito Mussolini speak for me:

"I do not believe in the supposed influence of books. I do not believe in the influence which comes from perusing the books about the lives and characters of men.

For myself, I have had only one great teacher.

The book is life— lived.

The teacher is day-by-day experience.

The reality of experience is far more eloquent than all the theories and philosophies on all the tongues and on all the shelves.

I have never, with closed eyes, accepted the thoughts of others when they were estimating events and realities either in the normal course of things or when the situation appeared exceptional."

Now, I do not know what I am saying.

And, so, let me leave Zomba behind. To Blantyre; where I will know what to think, believe and say.

I do not know what I am saying!

FOR ZOMBA

There comes a time when, as Richard Washburn Child— former United States of America Ambassador to Italy; yes, he who wrote the foreword in Benito Mussolini’s ‘My Autobiography’— puts it, one reaches fourth to touch reality in himself, and finds that he himself has gone a little forward, isolated, determined, illusive, untouchable, just out of reach— onward!

Well, it must be that time.

One day, three years ago, I made Zomba my second home under the pinch of necessity.

But, then, the movement itself was just soup; the main dish was hope that, once I would stumble in the trenches of tertiary education, I would leave ignorance— ignorance and my own uncertainty— behind.

Well, it has happened. But it has not happened.

Why? Because where I went [Zomba]— which I thought was the future; more less like a forward movement— has only brought me back to what I left behind [in Blantyre]. That is, experience. Life’s experience.

So much so that, as I go back to Blantyre, turning my back on Zomba, I realise that the forward move I made has, through its lessons, only taken me back to ‘The behind’— the world that was supposed to remain behind. That world is not Blantyre; that world is life.

Now, I will let Benito Mussolini speak for me:

"I do not believe in the supposed influence of books. I do not believe in the influence which comes from perusing the books about the lives and characters of men.

For myself, I have had only one great teacher.

The book is life— lived.

The teacher is day-by-day experience.

The reality of experience is far more eloquent than all the theories and philosophies on all the tongues and on all the shelves.

I have never, with closed eyes, accepted the thoughts of others when they were estimating events and realities either in the normal course of things or when the situation appeared exceptional."

Now, I do not know what I am saying.

And, so, let me leave Zomba behind. To Blantyre; where I will know what to think, believe and say.

I do not know what I am saying!

FOR ZOMBA

There comes a time when, as Richard Washburn Child— former United States of America Ambassador to Italy; yes, he who wrote the foreword in Benito Mussolini’s ‘My Autobiography’— puts it, one reaches fourth to touch reality in himself, and finds that he himself has gone a little forward, isolated, determined, illusive, untouchable, just out of reach— onward!

Well, it must be that time.

One day, three years ago, I made Zomba my second home under the pinch of necessity.

But, then, the movement itself was just soup; the main dish was hope that, once I would stumble in the trenches of tertiary education, I would leave ignorance— ignorance and my own uncertainty— behind.

Well, it has happened. But it has not happened.

Why? Because where I went [Zomba]— which I thought was the future; more less like a forward movement— has only brought me back to what I left behind [in Blantyre]. That is, experience. Life’s experience.

So much so that, as I go back to Blantyre, turning my back on Zomba, I realise that the forward move I made has, through its lessons, only taken me back to ‘The behind’— the world that was supposed to remain behind. That world is not Blantyre; that world is life.

Now, I will let Benito Mussolini speak for me:

"I do not believe in the supposed influence of books. I do not believe in the influence which comes from perusing the books about the lives and characters of men.

For myself, I have had only one great teacher.

The book is life— lived.

The teacher is day-by-day experience.

The reality of experience is far more eloquent than all the theories and philosophies on all the tongues and on all the shelves.

I have never, with closed eyes, accepted the thoughts of others when they were estimating events and realities either in the normal course of things or when the situation appeared exceptional."

Now, I do not know what I am saying.

And, so, let me leave Zomba behind. To Blantyre; where I will know what to think, believe and say.

I do not know what I am saying!

Same Regional Business

In less than 12 hours, the Malawi Electoral Commission will announce the winner of the Parliamentary Election in Mchinji District, the Central Region stronghold of the opposition Malawi Congress Party.
As usual, the opposition Malawi Congress Party's candidate will emerge victor.
As usual, this will be taken as usual.
Because regionalism runs deeper than policies in Malawi's narrow-minded politics.
Maybe the next generations may change this!

Same Regional Business

In less than 12 hours, the Malawi Electoral Commission will announce the winner of the Parliamentary Election in Mchinji District, the Central Region stronghold of the opposition Malawi Congress Party.
As usual, the opposition Malawi Congress Party's candidate will emerge victor.
As usual, this will be taken as usual.
Because regionalism runs deeper than policies in Malawi's narrow-minded politics.
Maybe the next generations may change this!