tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69988329646760128982012-02-17T10:47:56.230-08:00Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.comBlogger361100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-63962799028223498162009-11-09T01:36:00.002-08:002009-11-09T03:26:04.372-08:00

The newsroom is quite a hectic four-wall confinement. It is gruelling and daunting to perform the task of seeking the story of a man who bit the dog. Daunting because that involves dealing with sources that sometimes act funny when you are trying to get that extraordinary story.That pressure really gets to your head. You find whole hours going down the drain and the workload remains just as much

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-5225057753567759892009-10-07T08:20:00.000-07:002009-10-07T10:30:40.992-07:00

It was a little after ten when the four of us arrived at the Chichiri Prison to see Sam Mpasu, one of my most revered Malawian writers. When he wrote Nobody’s Friend, Mpasu was arrested by Dr Banda’s agents. His time in prison led to Prisoner 3/75 of Dr Banda, a grueling recount of his time in the inhuman cells of the one party regime.This time,Mpasu is in jail for the Fieldyork scandal when he

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-22358680316472229632009-09-22T07:06:00.001-07:002009-09-22T07:46:35.958-07:00

by Kondwani KamiyalaThat Dr David Livingstone was a great man goes without saying. How else can a man have his name in monuments in so many countries in Africa, America and Europe?Livingstone’s life is well-documented, in books, journals and he provides fodder for the historian seeking to piece up history. To the Malawian, Livingstone occupies a great space. Apparently, Malawi history records

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-43071075697903367132009-02-13T09:58:00.000-08:002009-02-13T10:10:21.462-08:00

After watching the Malawi Army brass band during parades in Lilongwe, little boys used to go back home and form their own ‘bands’. It is easy to imagine the little boys, with drums made from tins, ‘police caps’ from cartons and empty Chibuku packets making up for boots, walking about the streets of their township and doing renditions of such popular songs as Ku Chichiri Sindidzapita.No one could

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-27524897753525802362009-01-14T23:09:00.000-08:002009-01-14T23:15:24.588-08:00

Dear The Patriarch,It is not in my habit to pen patriarchs. But this once, I thought I should write one missive for you, The Patriarch. I have been compelled to, looking at recent events in Africa and I hope you will not misconstrue my writing for insolence.I know you have ever been an autocratic authority in your life. You have ever tasted how sweet a thing power is. You know how good it feels

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-20233721162398524862008-10-16T07:35:00.000-07:002008-10-16T07:45:23.330-07:00

One would think dying is better than spending 12 years of your life in prison for a case you have little knowledge of. And come to think of it, spending those 12 years living each day knowing that the hangman will one day come with his noose, and hang you, like he did with Saddam Hussein, is torture at its worst.Yet, you can only come to terms with the harsh reality that your spouse is dead, in

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-30164469485716877402008-10-13T04:46:00.000-07:002008-10-13T05:28:52.073-07:00

Celebrated Senegalese writer Ken Bugul (Marietou Mbaye) talks on a lifetime in writing. On talking to celebrated Senegalese writer Ken Bugul, whose real name is Marietou Mbaye, a few things about Malawian writing come out clear, in comparison to what is going on in other African countries. The writing art cannot move an inch if the government doesn’t put it as part of its development agenda,

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-28632240127652681572008-10-13T03:49:00.000-07:002008-10-13T04:45:19.805-07:00

They come and go. Their shows are, to say the least, massive in all senses of the word: good sound, nice performance that addresses the real issues. Yet Malawian musicians seem not ready to take their lesson on how well things should be done in music.Only last week there was an astounding performance by the Ivorian Dobet Gnahoré, who performed at the French Cultural Centre. There was so much to

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-81571970184093674212008-04-17T06:37:00.000-07:002008-04-17T08:15:41.063-07:00

Before his recent imprisonment for his part in the Fieldyork scandal, I visited Sam Mpasu to talk about his writing at his BCA home with my colleague Jack McBrams to chat with him anout literature:....“I will write, I wish to write but when you are always thinking politics, talking politics, you don’t concentrate”....by Jack McBrams & Kondwani KamiyalaSam Mpasu is known to many as a politician at

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-19966867352476939362008-01-03T22:50:00.000-08:002008-01-03T23:26:12.134-08:00

Dike Okoro, who has taught creative writing at the Roosevelt University in Chicago and is currently doing his doctorate in English at the University of Wisconsin, asked me to put this call for submissions at this blog. Fellow African writers may find it as step to widen their horizons:Emerging Voices of African Short Fiction & Poetry 2008 We invite all unpublished and well-established authors to

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-84947116550002258062007-12-14T08:34:00.000-08:002007-12-30T06:11:07.145-08:00

A common sight at the marketplace: people engulf an artist who craftily reads messages on pieces of coloured paper, which are also painted with flowers of all colours and shapes.The messages range from prayers, affection, daring enemies and so much more. Banja ndi anthu awiri, zikatha umphawi m'bwanga, mfiti idzafanso, the messages go on and on.One by one, the pieces of paper vanish, as buyers

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-23919154107751434402007-11-26T07:51:00.000-08:002007-11-26T07:56:48.711-08:00

One thing that General Arthur McDouglas left us is the adage that goes old soldiers never die: they just fade away. The other Sunday, I was walking downtown the Limbe Central Business District in Blantyre, when I met an old soldier who was fading away. He fought in World War II, and now he is a guard at a filling station. He had just knocked off, and was walking to his home, some three kilometers

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-67507291236686612232007-11-12T01:33:00.000-08:002007-11-26T07:49:49.103-08:00

A decade or two ago, Malawians who had relatives and friends abroad had few modes of communication at their disposal. If you wanted to communicate with loved ones abroad, you had to rush to the nearest post office and get an air form and jot your letter.Or else, you would buy some foolscap, put your pen to paper and when you were done, you would put it into an envelope with red and blue stripes,

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-12266987635751244002007-09-16T23:19:00.000-07:002007-09-17T01:54:21.437-07:00

By LEVI KABWATO, The Daily Times - Sunday, July 29, 2007http://www.sundaytimes.bppmw.com/article.asp?ArticleID=60Much has been said and written on Malawian art – music, writing, theatre, fine art and even film. The arts industry has produced phenomenal talent, from Proffessor David Rubadiri to Maria Chidzanja-Nkhoma to Wambali Mkandawire to Shemu Joya. But, there seems to be something that is

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-58668279226389175242007-09-02T04:28:00.000-07:002007-09-17T01:58:06.067-07:00

A quakeThe earth shakes and breaksThe mausoleum crumblesA flywhisk, that Stetson hat and three pieceWalk out, to see a new dayThis Figure, this poem can’t likeI have to hide itHide it even from His zealotsThe zealots that outlived The Despot for LifeLet me not face three and halfYears in gaol, where the poetRot, and rot, and rot for linesThese zealots thought against The Life DespotThe Despot for

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-39753896232128904802007-09-02T04:02:00.001-07:002007-09-17T03:23:00.867-07:00

First published in The Nation, August 29, 2007Artists are national politicians. They speak for all people—and all is all is all. But when artists go into politics, do they remain national politicians? Not necessarily. They even lose touch with the masses, the sources of art.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-30145531928398562612007-07-05T09:05:00.000-07:002007-09-17T03:36:15.437-07:00

Tomorrow, 6th July is Malawi’s Independence Day. On July 6, 1964, we shook off the fetters of British colonialism to become Malawi. We became a sovereign state, we were no longer a colony of Britain. As we celebrate this day this year, I ask myself: Has Independence or the attaiment of Republic status been any meaningful? I still long to be free. I long fellow Malawians to respect the law and

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-82842112632280919012007-07-05T05:04:00.000-07:002007-09-17T03:42:39.714-07:00

April 7, 1997. A mark in Malawi’s history was hewn. What was destined to become Malawi’s unique style of writing, the Mwangwego Script was launched.The script, which was to be used for writing Malawian languages, was to be incorporated into the school syllabi. Its inventor, Nolence Mwangwego said he had come up with the script since although Malawi had many languages, the country still used the

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-17079825965532656662007-06-17T03:10:00.000-07:002007-09-17T03:46:46.154-07:00

I am happy that my short story, Loafing Blues, has just been published in the Crossing Borders Magazine, a virtual magazine bringing together emerging writers from from Botswana, Cameroon, Ghana, Kenya, Malawi, Nigeria, South Africa, Uganda, Zambia and Zimbabwe. You can read the story and the others at http://www.crossingborders-africanwriting.org/magazine/issueeleven/Good reading!!

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-71852288162143341682007-06-14T04:43:00.001-07:002007-09-17T03:53:06.800-07:00

Short story by Kondwani KamiyalaFirst Published in The Weekend Nation on May 19, 2007This earth is like a giant ant eater. We, petty men, are like ants. One by one, we are swallowed by the earth.It is no matter how we are swallowed by this aardvark: we may be rich or poor, great or not but at some point, an accident may lead us into the gut of the earth, if not, a lengthy ailment. Some are born

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-78567633197183990282007-06-14T04:39:00.000-07:002007-09-17T04:00:55.995-07:00

Remember that how you (Malawians) conduct yourselves during and after the referendum (on 14 June 1993) is most important, since it will not only show our maturity as a nation, but also determine whether we move forward as a nation or degenerate into chaos. –Dr Kamuzu Banda, first president of MalawiToday is 14th June, Malawi’s Freedom Day. On 14th June, 1992, Malawians lined up, after 31 years of

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-27994638168207215432007-05-09T23:02:00.000-07:002007-05-09T23:39:23.918-07:00

IT'S BEEN quite some time since I last posted at this blog. Primarily, I had to turn back and look into myself again. What did I really seek to achieve by setting up this blog? Primarily, it was a means of getting my works of literature to be read by friends spread across the world. My initial belief was also that this blog would act as an electronic archive for my work. It was necessary to store

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-11787821958877453382007-05-09T22:39:00.000-07:002007-09-19T00:32:41.014-07:00

a Short Story by Kondwani KamiyalaTHE OCTOBER noon sun was high up the blue sky, and the boys could feel its scorching heat on the sandy soil beneath their feet.Hoes perched on the shoulders, hunger, thirst and tiredness gripped the boys as they trod on the lonesome path linking Chatha Village and the maize fields. Since daybreak, they had been in the field tilling the land in preparations for

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-70275204553955262952007-05-09T22:25:00.000-07:002007-09-19T00:39:07.300-07:00

IT WAS June 1992. I remember the time so vividly. I was a standard seven pupil at one of the public primary schools in Blantyre. Anyone who was in standard three or seven during the Kamuzu days had the most interesting experience of the Dr. Banda propaganda machinery. As little children, we did displays in praise of the Ngwazi during the MCP annual festivals at the Kamuzu Stadium. Such rallies

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-22864354014372129012007-05-08T23:00:00.000-07:002007-09-19T01:04:16.994-07:00

The slave is freeThought has no yokesThe prisoner is freeThere is no prison for dreamsFreedom is at the poor man’s doorSleep is never soldMan is not born freeSlavery, bondage at birth endwhere the umbilical cord is cutI wrote this short poem titled Liberty sometime back. My inspiration at the time was a young man who was in prison for a year. Of course, at the time, I was also thinking about

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-85653513775353108182007-02-14T00:04:00.000-08:002007-09-19T01:06:44.037-07:00

Kondwani Kamiyala26 September 2006 - 09:00:17The sages who coined the adage that there is unity in diversity must have been thinking of Massa Lemu and Timwa Lipenga. This, you would find true after going through the exhibition the two are running at the Blantyre arts haven, the French Cultural Centre.On the surface, you would think Lemu and Lipenga would have nothing in common because, for one,

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-89840253156724207392007-02-13T23:48:00.000-08:002007-09-19T01:35:57.497-07:00

Kondwani Kamiyala At first glance, the Mulanje Mountain looks like a massive barren rock. You would think there is no life up there. One would seriously believe that life ends with the lush green tea plantations at the foot of the mountain. Coupled with the mythical tales of the ancestral spirits on the mountain, the belief that the mountain is lifeless is deeply rooted in the core of your heart.

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-3485855252055313752007-01-26T22:40:00.000-08:002007-09-19T01:58:15.665-07:00

By Kondwani Kamiyala, first published in The Nation on Sunday newspaper. A thought for town mongers, and those in the diaspora.At first, it was Edgar and Davis’s song Musamabwere Kumudzi that compelled me to make the visit to my native land in Dowa. The last time I went there was in 1989, when I was just a Standard Four pupil, so that piece of music made me agree: it is not a wise

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-14276941921690127152007-01-17T05:58:00.000-08:002007-02-01T01:28:19.860-08:00

This is an excerpt from my upcoming maiden novel. The title is not fully determined, but it will be published later in the year. It's a journey through politics, romance, history, Malawian mysticism......An hour laterThe high-class BCA suburb residential area was getting dark quickly, a cold breeze was sweeping through the night from the Thyolo Highlands. Reverend Dr MacDonald Chando was feeling

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-13523568082886567342007-01-17T05:51:00.000-08:002007-09-19T03:03:37.513-07:00

IMFAUsachite matama imfaThakati ndiweOpanda chisoniPolodza akuluNdiwedi mbandaMantha ulibeWamayi moyo pokhwathulaYosamva mankhwalaNthenda ndiwekuli chete ana watengeraKwanthawi ndakusakaNdikakupezandikuphaUsachite matama imfa.

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-26668534571218545552007-01-17T05:48:00.000-08:002007-09-19T03:11:19.091-07:00

Political PromisesPopular people play politicsExposing plastic hopes opposite penuryPromising people power of povertyPoor people perseverePleonastic promises for prosperityPoliticians perpetually permitWeep not Ô peoplePolitical promise is not the pillTo pacify your poliomyelitis of poverty.---------------------------------The Protest MarchThis black land you know, sonKnew protest marches before

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-44477925396673135822007-01-17T05:45:00.000-08:002007-09-19T03:13:54.669-07:00

1. Yeah, senselessYeah, SenselessDo you hear?All women are mine, WebsterIn my Angolan village.Incorrigible corruptCreating chicken economicsAt Bretton Woods, COMESA….international thievery.Still, you dreamAnd you,With your sexually transmitted degreesRetire to abyssimal oblivionI drank your waterSwallowed your baitWaitedwaitedand waitedThat fool is a politicianhe fooled me AGAINYeah, Senseless2.

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-49743916679834594892007-01-17T03:11:00.000-08:002007-09-19T03:21:38.909-07:00

Kulira KwangaPoem by Kondwani Kamiyala, as recited before President Bingu wa Mutharika on Anti-Corruption Day, 2005Uku ndi kulira kwangaKulilira mchimwene wangaWapita nayo njalaatalephera kuhonga wachimangaKoposadi ndamulirapoti ampingoanakana kuyimbieachifukwa abusazam'manja sadapatsidweDzana adalepherawakumadzi ulendokumaphunziroadalibe passportPassport Officer ankafunanaye atadyapoDzulo

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-26471058751083448592007-01-17T03:03:00.000-08:002007-09-17T01:50:43.045-07:00

Thick bloodShort Story by Kondwani KamiyalaI remember that particular Monday morning for it was at the month-end. I had just got my salary and had spent more than half of it settling bills, paying back debts and buying groceries at the weekend.Each of the 20 teachers at Dzukani School has his own desk in the staffroom. Mine is at the far left of the room. Against the wall is my locker, where I

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-62900285734134569222007-01-17T02:48:00.000-08:002007-09-19T03:27:31.530-07:00

For Brown Vitsitsi and Chawezi Chirwa: taught, my friends, you now teach future teachers the complexities of learning….Tapiwa I ignored the knock at my front door.Usually, when I mark the students’ work, I do not entertain any disturbances, let alone interruptions.The students’ English notebooks, heaped on my coffee table, stared at me, as if challenging my intellect. I had promised myself I

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6998832964676012898.post-68158636046159807562007-01-17T02:04:00.000-08:002007-01-17T02:46:36.637-08:00

I welcome you, wherever you may be, to this my blog. Here I take you into the literary world of my sort. It is a traverse into my culture, my roots and, my writing. By extension, I still believe in the same old Nizanian belief that Writing Eases my Pain a Little. I guess writing has that theraupetic value, both to the writer, and the reader. All writing that is devoid of such a salutary value is

Kondwani Kamiyalanoreply@blogger.com1