On Monday and Tuesday this week, The Maravi Post encountered a curious and concerning sight in the heart of Lilongwe, Malawi’s capital city.
A green, old-looking car without any registration number was spotted parked near Wulian shops, close to Bwaila Hospital—one of the city’s busiest areas.
What made this more striking was its location: directly next to a restaurant where traffic police were actively stopping and inspecting vehicles as part of their normal operations.
Despite its visibly unroadworthy condition and complete lack of number plates, this car remained untouched by law enforcement.
Written boldly on its bonnet were the words, “Constitutional Rights for All,” suggesting a message of activism or defiance.
Both the front and rear windscreens carried the label “Freedom Fighter,” an odd proclamation in a nation that has now celebrated 61 years of independence.
This prompts a fair question: which freedom is being fought for, and against whom?
The vehicle’s condition and political slogans alone would ordinarily be enough for police to act swiftly.
In Malawi, traffic officers are often quick to detain or penalize motorists whose vehicles are unfit for the road.
However, this particular vehicle drives through checkpoints with apparent immunity.
When police mistakenly attempt to stop the car, the driver—reportedly with arrogance and pride—asks, “Kodi simukundidziwa? Mwayimitsa boma ngati simukundidziwa?” (Don’t you know who I am? You’ve stopped the government if you don’t know me.)
Such statements speak volumes about the culture of impunity now entrenched in some corners of Malawian society.
After two days of follow-up investigations, The Maravi Post can confirm that the vehicle belongs to none other than Mulo Makina, infamously known as “the guy of panga knives.”
Makina, a resident of Mchesi in Lilongwe, is widely believed to be closely linked to the ruling Malawi Congress Party (MCP).
According to credible sources, he plays an instrumental role in intimidating and assaulting individuals who attempt to organize anti-government demonstrations.
His car has now become a symbol of unchecked power and street-level enforcement of political loyalty.
This is no isolated case—it is part of a wider trend in which politically connected individuals act with impunity while ordinary citizens face the brunt of the law.
That this vehicle can cruise freely past roadblocks, untouched, while others are detained for minor violations, highlights the selective application of justice in Malawi today.
It is a clear example of how political thuggery is tolerated—and even protected—by those in power.
The symbolism could not be starker: a beat-up green car, wrapped in the language of rights and freedom, protected not by law but by allegiance to a political elite.
And yet, the political landscape is shifting.
Malawi is now just two months away from the critical 16 September 2025 general elections.
The burning question is whether the public will continue to accept this state of affairs.
Will Malawians renew the mandate of a government under which figures like Mulo Makina act as untouchable enforcers?
Or will they say enough is enough?
The case of this unregistered green car is not about traffic violations—it is about the rule of law, equality before the law, and the dangerous normalization of political intimidation.
As the countdown to the elections accelerates, Malawians must decide what kind of country they want to live in—one where the law protects all, or one where power shields a few.
One thing is certain: the days of silent tolerance are numbered, and the ballot box will soon speak for the people.
