There is a moment in every national crisis when people look to their leaders not for miracles, but for a voice. A word of comfort, a sign of assurance, or simple proof that someone at the top sees the fire. Malawi is in that exact nightmare right now, yet our leaders are entirely missing in action.
Let us be honest about the ground reality. Malawians are living through a grinding, daily hell. Fuel has been scarce for a month, bringing transport, commerce, and emergency services to a crawl.
Power outages are relentless, plunging homes into darkness and stalling small businesses. Basic food items like maize, cooking oil, and sugar are climbing out of reach, forcing mothers to skip meals so their children can eat.
Minibus fares have doubled, turning a simple trip to work into an economic luxury. Foreign exchange remains a locked vault, the kwacha is in freefall, and jobs are vanishing by the day.
This is an emergency. So where is President Peter Mutharika?
He left the country weeks ago for yet another private visit to South Africa. No one knows where he is, what he is doing, or when he intends to return. While the nation burns, our Head of State is playing hide-and-seek abroad. That is not leadership; that is abandonment.
Yet, the President’s absence is only half the tragedy. The other half is the deafening cowardice of the opposition, the very people meant to stand in the gap and hold power to account.
When the Malawi Congress Party (MCP) recently announced a press briefing, ordinary citizens held their breath. They hoped a senior heavyweight would step forward to offer a voice of comfort.
Instead, the party rolled out Moses Kunkuyu and Jessie Kabwila. Not the Leader of Opposition, Simplex Chithyola. Not the Secretary General, Richard Chimwendo. Just junior members of the National Executive Committee the usual rotating cast of spokespersons, while the principal commander stays locked away locked up in Area 10.
This is not a criticism of Kunkuyu or Kabwila as individuals. But in a national crisis, Malawians needed the leader himself. They needed Lazarus Chakwera.
And true to form, Chakwera was nowhere to be found.
This is not an accident; it is his signature character. This is how he governed when he sat in the big chair, retreating into silence whenever the economy bled, whenever fuel dried up, or whenever corruption scandals broke.
He always sent ministers, deputies, and proxies to face the music while he sheltered behind palace walls. Now, sitting on the opposition benches, he is playing the exact same old tune.
Does Chakwera truly have the heart of the people? The question answers itself. A leader who cares does not hide when his citizens are drowning in suffering. A leader who values public service does not delegate his core duty to junior officials when the country is on edge.
Chakwera knows what it means to face these exact economic pressures. He has the platform, the experience, and the political weight to be a powerful voice for a hurting nation. Yet he chooses the comfort of silence.
The hard truth Malawians must face is that Chakwera will never change. The man who governed by silence is the same man leading the opposition in silence. Where the President is absent and silent, the nation cries out for an alternative voice—and finds an empty chair.
Malawians deserve far better than this. They deserve leaders who show up, speak up, and understand that leadership is about sacrifice, not titles. Until we refuse to accept cowardly absence as an answer, our political class will continue to treat national crises as a spectator sport.
The time for real leadership is now, but Chakwera will never provide it.
He never has.
He never will.
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