hey guys i came across this amazing piece written by one of our fellow malawian brother. it very political if u understand it hope u enjoy it like i did.   Dearest Child,
I decided it’s better if wrote this letter in English, because some of you were pretty young when you left and you might not remember your mother tongue. I enclosed a photo of me in my best dress. The black, red, and green one with the setting sun stitched across the chest. The pictures a few years old unfortunately, but I look much the same even though I’m in my forties. I’m still living in the same house you left me in and it’s still under construction. Remember the one built on the T-junction where those three major roads meet; Zambia Ave., Tanzania Road, and Mozambique Street? Your family’s bigger but it’s not quite the same because a lot of your cousins and friends have jumped on planes to chase dreams that they’ve seen on D.S.T.V screens. It makes no sense to me. They say they’ve lost faith in your uncle Chilembwe’s pocket money and would rather get cash that’s green, or be paid by a woman they call Queen. Her name’s familiar…we might have met before. But I think the last time I saw her was in 1964.
I have to stop now, my hand is getting sore, but I promise once I gather my thoughts to write you some more.

Dearest child, I know I haven’t been the best mother at times, and my first husband was a jealous man. As much as I loved him he was hard to understand. He thought too much freedom a crime, he’d punish your older siblings sending some into exile. I even heard rumours of prison cells and crocodiles. It took me thirty years to end that relationship, and when I did it felt great. After that experience I concluded maybe it’s better just to date. So I give my new partners two years and that’s that, though the first man I tried it with almost got too attached. Maybe I made the mistake of showing him too much affection, because when his term was over he tried to get an extension. And it seems there’s always somebody who knows what’s best for me better than me. Like your white cousins who are constantly trying to give me advice and say I can’t survive without their expertise. Oh please! I’ve got kids that are educated better than some of them will ever be; Doctors, lawyers, economists, and engineers. When I say this some of them chuckle, and some of them sneer. But I can’t wait to see the look on their faces on the day you re-appear.

Dearest child, I’m gonna post this to your last known address. I hope the stress of living illegally in a foreign place hasn’t prematurely wrinkled your face. When I’m alone I think of silly things like if you miss my cooking. It’s painful to think that you’re just a single plane booking away from my loving arms. I’m contemplating writing a will because if I ever come to harm I’d like to guarantee you inheritance. As a consequence of you being overseas, some of my assets are being managed by Libyans and Lebanese. It’s makes me wonder how different it would be if my future plans were in your hands. Oh, by the way, I reserved a spot on a beach with the best sands by the lakeside for your home coming party…whenever that may be. I miss you. But don’t let my emotion be a weight on your spirit. These words should be like a sad song that makes feel warm, and confident when you hear it. Remember, my main concern is that you’re happy.

From the bottom of my warm heart, yours eternally, your mother,
Malawi

P.S Whatever you do, know I wish you the greatest success. Take care of you for me, child, God bless.



-- Edited by micahj3k at 22:50, 2005-12-07