Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda, first President of Malawi, died on November 25, 1997, aged 99 or 101 depending upon the source, after governing Malawi from 1964 to 1994. The honorific “Ngwazi” meaning “hero” was frequently affixed to the front of his name and is typically translated more grandly as “Great Lion.” His mausoleum in the center of Malawi’s capital city, Lilongwe, is festooned with leonine imagery punctuating his magnificence.
Walking the perimeter of the mausoleum, one can clearly read the four principles promulgated by The Great Lion advertised on outsized pillars gracing his sepulcher: Unity, Loyalty, Discipline, Obedience. A tad severe and perhaps ominous for a fledgling democracy to be sure, especially when one delves deeper into Banda’s biography.
Born circa 1898 in the British Central African Protectorate (later Nyasaland), Banda’s first name, Hastings, was taken from a favored Scottish Presbyterian missionary, John Hastings, and Kamuzu refers to an herbal fertility root administered to his mother. He was aided in early life by the Methodist and Presbyterian churches which sponsored his education in the United States and Scotland. A degree at the University of Chicago later led to two medical degrees, one from Meharry Medical College in Tennessee and the other from the University of Edinburgh. All respectably auspicious.
His entry into politics was gradual, and while practicing medicine he was eventually asked to represent the Nyasaland Congress in the UK. Sidetracked by a scandalous affair with his receptionist (which may or may not have resulted in a child) and a seven year stay in West Africa, he returned to Nyasaland in 1958 after 42 years abroad. Further hindered by the British government’s invitation to reformatory confinement for dangerous political activity, Banda eventually emerged as a national leader as the colonial period in Malawi ended in 1964.
Faced with pesky democratic annoyances like free elections, separation of powers, and human rights, Banda obviated these problems by simply ignoring them from the beginning of his administration. Starting with the barely concealed murder of opposition leaders, Banda proceeded to rule Malawi with an iron fist for 30 years issuing autocratic decrees including forbidding women from wearing trousers or baring their knees, dictating the length of hair for men, and outlawing young men from keeping their hands in their pockets while in public.
To the outside world, he was the kindly African doctor (who wore a Homburg and brandished a fly-whisk) despite his full-throated support of the Vietnam War and South African apartheid. No one knows the true number of those jailed, disappeared, or outright executed by Banda and his government, but it likely runs in the tens of thousands. Today, as Malawi celebrates 30 years of multi-party democratic government, memory seems mercurial as the legacy of his inspiring personal story and corrupt political record sparks both nostalgia and fury.
Like the man himself, Banda’s mausoleum is multi-layered. Deep within the edifice is The Great Lion’s actual tomb, unseen and inaccessible to the public. On full view, however, is a becoming marble façade garnished with fresh flowers, noble sculpture, and inspirational narrative.
