Now, despite his child-like demeanour, poet Yohane Pangani is old enough to get used to stage lights, media practitioners’ tripod stands, unblinking television cameras, and such other minor irritations in life.
Pangani should, surely, be used to these irritations – I mean, stage lights, media practitioners’ tripod stands, unblinking television cameras— and the people who carry them around [as if there was nothing better to carry; or no better things to do than ask questions. I say so because he has been performing for over five years now.
But, maybe, before I delve into the subject matter that has brought me here today— the subject is, of course, Pangani— let me talk a little bit about people who use stage lights, tripod stands, unblinking television cameras and questions, all in the name of journalism or whatever they call it. I think these people live a lie!
Just imagine, they tell us that they pursue the stories they chase – in a typical cat/ mouse fashion— in the interest of the public. Which public? Did we vote for you? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Si ife ana ife [We are not kids. Do not fool us]!
Just say you do so to line your pockets with cash at the end of the month. Osatipusitsa ife iyayi. Mukayesa ndi ife ana [Do not fool us. We are not kids]? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Actually, you are the people who ‘imported’ trouble into Pangani’s mind at Mibawa Multi-Purpose Hall the other day. Here is what happened.
One of the local radio stations in the country was commemorating three years, or so, of existence. Now, a three-year-old baby is old enough to have teeth of its own but is not old enough to marry. But it seems this radio station has cut its teeth and ‘married’ in three years! It’s quite a feat and no mean achievement.
Now, Pangani found herself at the venue early this month. Upon his arrival, some poets, most notably Joseph Madzedze, entrusted Pangani with CDs and DVDs of their vernacular language poems.
Get me right, Pangani was selling his own poetry CDs. You know how people make hay while the sun shines.
I do not know how Pangani knew that an individual would, surely, buy a CD or DVD at K500 apiece. After all, the people had no inscription marked ‘I have money’!
But Pangani, the good poet, had an eye for a ‘money-ful’ pocket and seemed relentlessly practical in terms of sales’ pitch. Through such efforts, the gulf between being broke and full of cash got bridged.
However, Pangani was going about his business without those stage lights, media practitioners’ tripod stands and unblinking television cameras around.
Then, as Pangani was about to sell a CD to a certain dread-locked man, a photographer who snaps people for cash in Limbe made his way to the scene. When Pangani saw him, he started running away. Why? I do not know.
Now, between Mibawa and Multi-Purpose Hall [I mean, in front of the hall], a river flows freely, without being disturbed by river waste. You know the disease that plagues Blantyre rivers: pollution.
Pangani would have jumped across that river had Madzedze not shouted at him. ‘Iwe ukuthawa chiyani? Si aliyense amene amanyamula camera ndi mtolankhani [Where do you think you are going? Not everyone who carries a camera is a journalist]”
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Maybe Pangani did not want to be called a CD/DVD vendor! Or, perhaps, he was ‘protecting’ his reputation!
Yohane Pangani’s flight
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