In a country littered with modern-day prophets, one would have hoped that days of days [masiku a masiku] that come with regrettable events were over.
Yes, you got me right— I am talking about days of days.
I guess you, Dear Pain, have heard people say “Your days are numbered” or “days of walking 20 kilometres on foot from home to school are over”, “days of weeping are over”, “days of unnecessary meekness are over”.
Did it occur to you that days have their own days?
I mean, there are days of days of sadness [masiku a masiku a chisoni]. There are days of days of happiness, days of days of inactivity, days of days of activity and what have you.
It is a bit philosophical, kind of.
That is why I am saying, with our version of modern-day prophets, one would have hoped that days of days of pain [masiku a masiku a ululu] would be minimised as, in most cases, we would be forewarned by our watchful men of visions.
But we have not done that good in that area.
On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday this week, we had heavy rains— the type that douses off wildfires.
As we know, it was been pretty hot these past weeks as some careless people have been on the prowl, burning bushes, setting trees on fire and indulging in acts meant to destabilise the ecosystem.
And, customarily, nature has always come in to douse the fire, literally. When the bushes are burning, rains fall in droves, giving the dry leaves and tree branches respite.
Earlier this week, nature intervened. It rained cats and dogs and, guess what, the brick fence that gives us a sense of safety back home collapsed.
Just imagine. Earlier this year, we had tropical storms Ana and Gombe. The brick fence survived.
In fact, it has been there for years, withstanding excessive heat and rains— only to collapse this year.
Which does not come as a surprise to me, really. This has been a strange year. A year of never-ending queues.
Like the situation back in 2012, when people were lining up for fuel; this year, people started lining up for cooking oil.
This year, people queued for sugar— which was not there in the first place.
And, talking about the government, while we have been busy queuing for fuel, some government officials have been b u s y queuing for fertiliser at a butcher man’s place.
Literally. That is why we say Malawi is a shocking country. Not Malawi. I mean, some confused people in Malawi.
At first, we heard that the money at stake was in billions. Then, the figure was pegged at K750 million. Now we have learned that the money has not been recovered.
Whatever the case, taxpayers’ money was used in a deal that beats the imagination.
Anyway, Parliament will come to the bottom of that. I can leave it there.
My worry, though, is that, in search of the millions that have grown wings, we may end up losing billions.
I mean, Malawi Government officials that are trekking outside the country are pocketing allowances. Those officials are flying business class abroad. These public officials are eating and drinking at our expense.
And that is another disaster. We will end up recovering the money said to have been ‘stolen’ from us but end up losing billions to efforts aimed at recovering the money that was spent while using shortcuts.
Either way, we lose.