By By Chifuniro E. Banda
In March 2025, the Malawi Writers Union (Mawu) a announced the launch of national short story competition, open to both seasoned writers and secondary school students. This year’s themes— mental health and/or artificial intelligence— are as topical and contemporary. They ask us to look deeply into ourselves as a society and ask tough questions: How are we treating those who are struggling silently? What stories are we telling about the mind and the machines of the future? This literary initiative has coincided with a major legislative development—the decriminalisation of attempted suicide in Malawi.
Parliament recently passed a bill repealing the legal provision that criminalised attempted suicide. For decades, under Section 229 of Malawi’s Penal Code, anyone who survived a suicide attempt could face criminal charges.
The idea that a person in mental and emotional crisis could be punished with imprisonment was always disturbing. It sent the message that the law had no room for empathy; only judgement. This new bill signals a crucial shift in our collective consciousness. Mental health advocates have said, for years, that a suicide attempt is not a crime—it is a cry for help.
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True, most people who attempt suicide often do so because they feel trapped, isolated and hopeless. They are not seeking attention but relief from pain that words often fail to express. In truth, many people who reach that point have spent months, even years, battling thoughts they did not know how to share. And when they did reach out—some were dismissed, laughed at or even condemned for being “too weak” or “too faithless”.
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The bill passed by Parliament is a step in the right direction. It aligns Malawi with modern understanding of mental health as a medical and social issue, not a moral failing. It urges us to treat those who attempt suicide not as criminals but as patients in need of urgent support. But legislation alone cannot change culture.
That is where creative voices—writers, poets, musicians, dramatists— must rise. This brings us back to the issue of the Mawu short story competition. Through fiction, writers can paint the emotional realities behind mental illness. A short story can breathe life into statistics and policies. It can humanise depression, anxiety, trauma and loneliness in ways that reports or sermons cannot. In doing so, storytelling becomes not just an art, but an act of advocacy.
Writers have a special task: to speak for those who are too burdened to speak for themselves. To imagine characters who mirror real people— students haunted by cyberbullying, men crushed by unemployment, women enduring silent abuse or children yearning for someone to just ask, “Are you okay?” Stories allow us to enter the minds of others.
And if we do that well, we may finally begin to understand that mental illness is not someone else’s problem—it is a human problem, woven into families, workplaces, classrooms and places of worship. The role of writers in this transformation cannot be overstated. Just as politicians pass laws, artists shape perceptions . And perceptions are powerful. A well-told story can stay in someone’s heart long after a campaign ends or a bill is passed.
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It can start conversations in households, classrooms, church pews and marketplaces. It can even save a life. We must also look ahead. Now that the law has changed, what next? Our health system must be prepared to provide quality mental health services—not just in cities but across rural communities. Teachers need training to detect signs of distress.
Religious and community leaders must promote messages of inclusion and healing. Parents must learn to listen without rushing to discipline or denial. That done, and should the President assent to the bill, that shall mark a historic shift in our legal system. But the real work will happen in homes, workplaces, schools, clinics, churches—and yes, in stories. That is where healing begins.
As Malawi embraces this new legal and cultural chapter, writers must not remain silent. It is time for storytellers to illuminate the silent battles fought behind closed doors. Now, more than ever, literature must rise to meet life. By exploring themes of mental health with honesty, writers can contribute to a growing body of literature that speaks not just to policy, but to the heart.
