By Allan Ngumuya
When Vice President Dr. Saulos Klaus Chilima was sworn into office following the historic 2020 court-sanctioned elections, many Malawians believed that a new era of unity, transparency, and progress had dawned. The Tonse Alliance, a coalition that brought together several political parties under the leadership of President Dr. Lazarus Chakwera, symbolized hope. But that hope has long been squandered—and Chilima, the symbol of youthful dynamism and visionary leadership, became one of the biggest casualties of that betrayal. Today, Malawians are grappling with a cold reality: their Vice President died in the forest, abandoned, in a manner that many feel reflects the tragic dysfunction at the heart of the Malawi Congress Party (MCP)–led government.
Dr. Chilima’s death in a plane crash in Chikangawa Forest on June 10, 2024, left the nation in shock. But the manner in which the government handled the tragedy has left an even deeper scar. The search operation was not launched promptly. Despite the aircraft losing communication around 10:00 AM, the government delayed its official response until 10:00 PM—twelve painful hours of silence. During that time, contradictory and misleading statements were issued, alleging the plane had crashed in an inaccessible area within thick forest. Yet when the wreckage was found the next morning, it was discovered not in the deep forest as claimed, but near a village and a main road.
The delay in searching, the inadequate urgency, and the falsehoods surrounding the crash site all point to a deep failure—not just operational, but moral. Chilima and the eight others onboard reportedly perished alone in the freezing forest night, as the government stood paralyzed. To add salt to the wound, the black box was said to have been removed under suspicious circumstances, while armed security personnel tightly guarded the crash site, leaving many questions unanswered.
The government’s subsequent establishment of a Commission of Inquiry appeared only after mounting pressure. Even then, the panel was stacked with loyalists and political allies, casting doubt on the credibility and independence of the investigation. When the report was finally released, it failed to answer the fundamental questions that the nation was asking: Why was the search so delayed? Who authorized the false reports about the crash site? What exactly caused the crash? Why was the black box not publicly accounted for?
The failures didn’t end with the mishandling of the crash. President Chakwera’s decision to announce his 2025 candidacy on Kamuzu Day—while Chilima stood silently at the podium—was a blatant breach of their political agreement. It was also an insult to the millions of Malawians who voted for the Tonse Alliance on the understanding that Chilima would succeed Chakwera after the first term.
In death, too, Chilima has not been given the dignity he deserves. The government’s attempt to construct a memorial pillar several kilometers away from the crash site, rather than at the actual location where the tragedy occurred, is an act of symbolic erasure. It is not only foolish—it is deeply disrespectful to the memory of a man who gave so much to his country.
Furthermore, the decision by the President to host a government memorial in a location far from the private family memorial in Nsipe—on the very same date—has been seen by many as another tone-deaf and disrespectful act. How could a leader, let alone one with a religious background like President Chakwera, justify organizing a state function that directly competes with the mourning of the bereaved family? It defies both African tradition and common sense. If anything, it reflects a growing trend within the MCP leadership: to isolate, sideline, and ultimately abandon those who no longer serve its narrow political interests.
From fertilizer procurement scandals involving butcheries and pharmacies, to the highly questionable Bridgin Foundation promise of a $6.8 billion investment—despite warnings and red flags—President Chakwera’s leadership has become synonymous with delayed decision-making, questionable judgment, and an apparent unwillingness to listen to advice, even from those with insight. Many Malawians now ask: who is really advising the President? Is anyone truly in charge of government affairs, or has the ship of state been left to drift?
Dr. Chilima’s tragic death has become a mirror reflecting the failures of a government that promised change but has delivered chaos, dishonor, and heartbreak. This was a man abandoned both in life and in death—by those who once called him a partner. And as the nation approaches the one-year anniversary of the crash, a candlelight vigil is being planned for June 10, 2025. From Nsipe to every corner of Malawi, the people will light candles—not just to remember Chilima, but to expose what has been hidden in darkness.
In the end, the question is not just about who failed Chilima. It is about how a government failed its people, its promises, and its principles. For a President who once preached integrity, love, and unity, the silence, the delays, and the dishonor speak louder than any sermon ever could.
As Ntcheu’s own proverb goes, “Nkonze nkonze anasupula maliro a weni.” In trying to fabricate a narrative, the government has desecrated a sacred memory. And history will not forget.
