My beloved President Peter Mutharika. I have hope that you are in the finest of health. The sharp and angry swords of time have spared me lately. That is to say, I am in the best of health.
Beloved Peter, sir, it is now two years since I last wrote you. It is not like I do not have anything to write to you. I have piles of letters for you. One day, I shall find time to send them to you.
Beloved Peter, sir, of all the letters I have, this one, I think, cannot wait. I am writing to you with reverence knowing that apart from being citizen number one, you and I are close to five decades apart in terms of years we have strutted upon the Earth.
Beloved sir, I know you will burst in fits on anger upon reading my letter. I also know that there are some people who will get angry on your behalf. Well, it matters less because in every setup, there are jingoists just like there are perverts. It is normal.
Beloved sir, let me not wind and whirl too much. My letter to you is not coated in sugar. It is as straight as it is. Those cronies surrounding you, sir, will not tell you the truth. Actually, they are seething with rage that I am reporting them to you.
Beloved sir, at 79 you are an old man and your good place is a retirement home somewhere at Chisoka or the US where your treasures are laid. I personally do not take the years you have served this country for granted. Of course your gang of thieves and its attendants has rundown this country while you conveniently looked away. It is your style anyway.
On your watch, beloved sir, Malawi has been a disaster. When you were being ushered to the presidency, many thought a professor of law—a very revered and dignified profession—was a solution to our woes. But beloved sir, you have just proven that you are just another mistake we traditionally make after every five years.
Your resume, beloved sir, speaks for itself. A disinterested minister of education, a drooling minister of foreign affairs and nonchalant minister of justice are some of the lines on your CV. But we are fine with it.
Beloved sir, are you that sleepy such that you cannot tell that your cronies are involved in stinking corruption? It is that you are not aware or you have conveniently gone into a comatose?
Beloved sir, the other time, you were embroiled in the police food rational scandal in which some money—K145 million to be specific— was deposited into an account whose signatory is no one else but you. Your sycophants rushed in desperation to pay back the money. You claimed innocence.
Are you, beloved sir, not ashamed that your name now reverberates in corruption and wrong-doing? Do you, beloved sir, have a clear conscience on all this?
Beloved sir, why must a perceived sophisticated person who has gone through the concrete jungles of the civilized world be lured into Orient mess of corruption?
Is it not embarrassing that the whole head of state should be cartooned by some corrupt Orient businessman?
My beloved sir, if they do not tell you, I will tell you today. You are surrounded by a gang of thieves that wrongly advises you and take advantage of your old age and detachment from reality.
Beloved sir, like it or not you are on the wrong path and you are being misled. If you are not being misled, then you are just among the crooked lot.
One day when we meet, I will look you in the eye and demand the truth from you, beloved sir.
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