KAMUZU & THE THREE ABORTIONS

It all began when I casually made a remark to a friend of mine. I simply said “Person X has started working with our firm. We are colleagues now.” I mentioned it in passing but the response I received at first passed unnoticed but made me think long and hard later on.

“Oh really.” Was the reply “Do you know that she has had three abortions?”

No I didn’t know that. Neither was it any of my business. At the time I just thought it was an awkward response to a very plain remark that I had made. And then I went home. As the shadows thickened in the silent night, I began to wonder how my friend knew that my colleague had had any abortion let alone three, or whether it was true. They were remotely acquainted and even if they were friends and knew each other to a greater degree, I didn’t see how it was appropriate to bring something like that up in casual conversation with a third party, in this case me. I wasn’t concerned at all with whether it was true or not for it wasn’t my life. What I was concerned with was how something that intimate could be public knowledge if it indeed was. And anyway what is “Public Knowledge”? The following day I woke up and began to listen more intently to the people around me. 

That was a year ago.

We are all rather aware of it. There exists too much gossip. Seedy, undignified and engrained. Unbeneficial, distasteful, unproductive. The gossip is so established, so palpable, it seeps through our whole society and saturates us across multiple layers. It stretches up from the bottom, swiping at the private lives of anonymous people, people who have not yet distinguished themselves in society, to those who dwell among the heights of politics and the board rooms of corporate companies. A CEO’s private life will be discussed by clerks during their lunch breaks and they will speak with the tone of familiarity.  A new employee will start a new job and as he or she is being oriented across different departments, everyone will know of him. The Diaspora of Malawi, citizens who have long since breathed the air descending the slopes of Mulanje, are in the know, chattering away about the lives of individuals thousands of miles away from them. And we return in kind. “He works as a bus driver in America, but comes on holiday with his Dollars trying to look fancy.” See what I mean?

The gossip is also a multi headed beast like the Hydra of Greek mythology. One obvious head is people’s sex lives – who are their partners; where they live; an STD they had at some point; HIV status . Another is their finances, the salary she earns, the new plot of land she has bought, the mortgage he has taken, the car someone is about to order, (though he hasn’t ordered it yet, “people” are in the know). And when one steps back for a minute and observes, one is struck by the interest, effort, energy and enthusiasm people display when they talk about others. They forget and ignore the ever rising and pressing problems that have slowly risen from their feet to their waists and rising further to ultimately drown them. The natural question I asked following my observations was how did things get to this point...and I think I have the answer in part.

History.

In 1964, Nyasaland ceased to exist and we became Malawi. Dr Hastings Kamuzu Banda, the father of the nation, then proceeded to rule as a dictator.  The government under which a person is born determines the kind of life a person shall live. Under a dictatorship, the idea of the dictator as a far reaching and overt presence seeps into a person’s mind and lodges itself there. Speaking to people who lived during that time and listening to their stories you get a sense of the uneasiness they were subjected to day after day. The fear they lived under. I once heard an old woman, eyes dim and whitened by former sight say “Kamuzu was like God looking over us all.”

Freedom of speech was removed and people lived in constant check of every word they spoke. One was fearful of spies, so much so that one could lie in one’s own bed and be nervous of one’s husband or wife. Neighbors living in polite society smiled at one another, visited each other’s homes, had their children play with one another but always harbored hidden suspicion. People disappeared simply for expressing a contrary opinion. This meant that one had to be supremely careful of what the person standing next to you thought of you. This person may not have had direct bearing to your success, they would not pay your rent or put fuel in your car, but they had the vague possibility of ruining you. One negative report to the authorities about you and you could be finished. Lose your job, or maybe even more. That was the coarse reality my parents’ generation lived under for almost 30 years. This led to an interesting cultural phenomenon. People became content with being small. Being small and hidden, so that one was safe. One was content to be part of an inconspicuous grey lump of clay rather than to be a slab of sapphire. Doing too well, saying too much, going too far, would mean that you are now visible to everyone and being visible to everyone meant being a large target and being exposed not only to enemies but even anonymous people or half acquaintances that may have the desire to harm you. One must never underestimate the envy that exists in society.  And this was further extended by people believing that being unnoticed and content with anonymity was being humble. Risk aversion which we currently see on a national level resulted, and not only risk aversion, but the most ambitious, the most aggressive, were subjected to the mercy of those content to live safely in a shell. Years living in this taut atmosphere of suspicion and distrust also led to us developing a hypocritical morality. A morality based solely on appearances. I have not yet seen a single night club in Malawi that has a condom dispenser. Not one. This is in a country where there is not a single family without someone who died of AIDS. We prefer the appearance of propriety over the actual substance of it. We unknowingly inherited this cultural history. We currently have a national financial scandal of mammoth proportions. A God fearing nation? Really? 

The future & success of every society rests in its brightest and most determined individuals. These individuals must have the courage to look within and grow into themselves. As Paulo Coelho said “Anyone that interferes with the destiny of another can never achieve his own.” This gross concern over the lives of others is choking and stifling. It diverts attention and energy and ultimately robs people of their talents and their future. It’s a very common occurrence for someone to pull you aside and “address” an area of your personal life by stating “People are saying…” Which people? And why is the opinion of mere acquaintances so important to an individual life? In truth this characteristic is endemic to small societies in general, but we have taken things a little too far. To grow into your own element you need first simply mind your own business.

The gossip is so entrenched in Malawi, rather than consider the more important aspects of this article, someone will be more concerned with finding out “who was the colleague who has had the three abortions.”

WILLIAM KAMKWAMBA’S APPLE

Started here

Currently here

We were seated at a bar & grill and among us were friends, acquaintances, and one random person nobody really knew that well, but who has the right like everyone else in a bar & grill to order a drink and have a chat. Naturally he was the loudest. Fortunately for him and everyone else, he wasn’t annoying at all and threw snippets of wit and flashes of humour adding to the cheery mood. He was also conscious of his anonymity and as insurance to keep his place among semi-strangers he also threw rounds which is commendable. No problem. Shap! 

Conversation was initially pocketed, between groups of two to three people and as conversations go, the more interesting discussion swallows the blander, and at that time there was no conversation more scintillating than the death of Steve Jobs, so everyone soon joined in to comment. I hadn’t known Mr Jobs personally, so other than the general empathy I feel towards anyone who passes away and their bereaved families and friends, I had little to say so I just listened. Initially I listened passively, with divided attention, but as the discussion went on, I began to converge my thoughts on what was being said about the late Steve Jobs. There was a lot of admiration for the man and I hadn’t disagreed one bit (neither did the wider world) for he was after all a famous man and when famous men die, debate begins on the impact of their lives and the documentaries I had seen were in his favor. What I didn’t understand however was the context of their admiration and I unknowingly committed the unpardonable sin by asking “ Why was Steve Jobs so inspirational to you?”

My question was almost blasphemy, and I immediately became a leper as punishment. They chided me for my lack of detailed knowledge of Apple and Pixar and one of them, who still lived in his mother’s house at an age when this is inappropriate, even threw in a snide remark “maybe you have never owned an apple product.” In return I thought, “maybe you have never paid rent because you buy too many Apple products.”  But I let it slide. In fact, I actually have never owned an apple product - but so what? And that was my point.

“What I mean is why do we as Africans exclusively make heroes of foreign figures. This would be like Scandinavians having Nubian Thors.”

“What do you mean by that?” someone asked.

“Well, since we are speaking of inspirational figures, why do we always gain inspiration from so far away? I just don’t quite understand why you a black African in Blantyre Malawi are so overly inspired by this man to the point of offense when someone vaguely questions the source of your admiration. ”

They then regrouped and without even seriously considering what I was trying to convey, they verbally intensified the potency of Steve Jobs. Now I had had a long week and I wasn’t in the mood to be wasting my leisure moments hosting prizeless arguments so I conceded for the sake of my sanity.

“Ok Steve Jobs was one of the most inspirational men I ever heard of in my life.” I finally said to end the conversation. They ignored this and purposely continued to remind me of things I already knew, accomplishments he had achieved as though I hadn’t watched the documentaries. “Ok yes I agree” I kept repeating at regular intervals trying to change topic. When they finally finished, they had a look of mild triumph, iphones firmly planted in their pockets. Rent money not quite. I then withdrew from conversation and looked around the table.  The topic had changed and I waited a long while before I asked a question.

“Has anyone ever heard of William Kamkwamba?”

Nobody had heard of him. Then I asked if anyone had ever heard of the boy who harnessed the wind. After that extra information, two people confirmed that they had heard “something of that nature” in the past. Now to summarize, William Kamkwamba was born in poverty and decided to build a windmill to power electrical appliances from materials in a scrap yard after teaching himself science from books he obtained from a dilapidated library. I need not offer more details here. Look him up. He is famous. Not Steve Jobs famous, but famous nevertheless. TIME magazine named him one of the 30 under 30’s changing the world. But what struck me on this evening was why his contribution would not even be assimilated by the people he shares citizenry with. He should be a household name but isn’t quite so in Malawi. Then I remembered the words of a writer whose name I couldn’t pinpoint. “To look at a thing is very different to seeing a thing.”

They had looked at William Kamkwamba but they had not seen him.

For some reason we do not see the efforts, the industry, the hope, the ingenuity of our own people that live and work in our immediate surroundings. This is something I have also seen in other African countries. Now part of this is due to the selective nature of popular media, but a larger fault I feel is just a lack of affinity for our roots. No matter how high a tree rises, it is the roots that keep it in place and act as an anchor of strength. I personally can relate more to William Kamkwamba than to Steve Jobs, simply because he is more accessible. His story is universally rich and simple for it has heartfelt messages. Do not pity yourself. Look deep within and contribute. Where you begin does not have to be where you finish. Steve Jobs was a white American Man who achieved many things that maybe only a white American man can achieve. I can relate to that to a very small degree.

These were the words of Kamkwamba (almost trembling with nervousness speaking rudimentary English) at a TED talk.

“We are seven children in my family…before I discovered the wonders of Science I was just a simple farmer…my family ate one meal a day…because of the hunger I was forced to drop out of school... I looked at my father and those dry fields (due to a famine) and it was a future I could not accept.”

The rest is history. 

Now inspiration can come from many sources. And this is not to say one must localize inspiration, but it is to say that we need to look at everything within context for we have the habit of ignoring our own heroes who are unsung, unheralded. And I am not remotely suggesting that Kamkwamba is greater than Jobs, for such comparisons are inappropriate. All I am saying is that can such a man as Kamkwamba please be given a standing ovation and be discussed at bars & grills, in  houses, avenues and buses in the country of his birth. For there are others like him - ignored. Young, black and talented. And instead of focusing on the failures, the public purse looters, and the generally incompetent (which exist in every country) could we sing of the industrious and the hopeful. The salt of the Earth. The pillars of society.  That is all.