I THOUGHT I WOULD BE KIND TO EVERYONE

It was around 16:30 yesterday when the clouds, like giant sponges, finally decided to release their final pent-up tears, bringing relief to the parched landscape. I had no doubt the local farmers were rejoicing at the prospect of a promising growing season and the hope of food security that came with it. In that moment, I took a deep breath, feeling the cooler breeze fill my lungs as I smiled at the simple joys of life. I also decided to step out of the discussion room at Annex, Queen Elizabeth Central Hospital—leaving behind the tutorial, discussions, and brotherhood with my peers—but that’s a story for another day.

As I stepped out of the hospital gate, mortuary side, I crossed the road and grabbed ufa and ndiwo at Chiyimilire—that joint where your stomach always thanks you! I dropped 9k and knew I was sorted for a few days. After the meal, I wandered toward Kamba, and bam! A serious craving for chips hit me hard. Luckily, I had 6k left, so I splurged a 2k note and treated myself. Off I went, koma... something happened.

As I savored the lingering richness of fat on my taste buds, I couldn’t help but reflect on the journey that has brought me to this moment. With just four months left to wind up academic life, I’m reminded of the countless hours of hard work and perseverance from elementary school through to this far—tertiary level. I have not failed to endure to the end, but the circumstances are almost shattering my life, my dream, my hope, and my belief in the transformative power of education.

So you see, this is not just a story—it’s my life, my hope, and my belief in the power of education. That’s today’s story.

As I walked, my mind drifted back to where it all began.

My story begins at Nkhoma Mission Hospital, where I took my first breath. My birth mother took me home to Misangu Section, Lilongwe, under the care of Traditional Authority Kalumbu. It was when I was four weeks old that I met my father, and to my infant eyes, his face was all over the moon—a memory that has stuck with me. He called me Ephraim, a name bestowed upon me by my grandfather, Mr. Chitedze.

My grandfather was like Joseph of that time—the only difference being that, in addition to carpentry, he ventured into forests like Chongoni and Chikangawa, cutting down trees carelessly, or rather, living life on his own terms. I don’t hold his choices against him; he did what he thought was best to provide. But our world shifted when my mother passed away during childbirth six years later, at a time when I was ready to start elementary school. My newborn brother, who never got to taste her milk, followed her two weeks later. That marked the end of our life as a full third-class family.

My lovely father, a selfless man, ensured our well-being by handing the three of us to his parents when he remarried three years after my mother’s passing. Despite his skills in repairing phones, radios, and motorcycles, he chose not to relocate to the city, prioritizing staying close to us instead. He supported us from afar as we stayed with our grandparents, facing challenges to make ends meet in the countryside where his talents were underutilized. Farming wasn’t his preference, but he made do. I, meanwhile, was focused on my elementary school journey.

At elementary school, I threw myself into my studies, fueled by the realization that I was a quick learner and that my teachers loved me so much. I recall how the headteacher partnered with me in raising a pig as I prepared to transition to secondary education. He constantly reminded me that I would secure a spot at a national secondary school, and other teachers echoed this sentiment. I was skeptical, given that no one from my school had been selected to a national or even district secondary school in ages. Yet their trust and kindness propelled me forward, and I didn’t disappoint—I was indeed selected to a national secondary school.

However, God’s plan took a different turn, and I ended up completing my secondary education at Namitete Secondary School, a district school. Financial constraints had made the national school option unfeasible.

At Namitete Secondary, I once again witnessed kindness and successfully completed my secondary education, earning my MSCE in 2019—a qualification that can be a game-changer. Still, my secondary education was not without its challenges. In Form 2, I faced a difficult period when I was sent home, only to be recalled a week later. From that point, I adopted a more relaxed attitude, trusting that everything would work out.

Reflecting on my journey, I’m filled with gratitude for Namitete Secondary. To this day, I remain uncertain about who covered my school fees, but I’m convinced it was Namitete Secondary School that gave me a lifeline—and ultimately, a ticket to university. That selfless act of kindness has inspired me to pay it forward and make a positive impact on others. Unfortunately, some events along the way have tried to ruin the good intentions born long ago—and that’s where my story is going. I will unfold this too.

I also acknowledge my imperfections. When secondary education seemed like an unattainable dream, I came close to giving up. It was during this time that I grew close to my girlfriend—you guessed it right, I had a baby boy with her before completing secondary school. Don’t worry, I’ll take you through my university experience next.

In 2021, I enrolled at a prestigious university in Malawi—Kamuzu University of Health Sciences (formerly the College of Medicine)—to pursue a five-year degree in Nutrition and Dietetics, a pioneering program that marked the beginning of an exciting journey. Survival at university has been a mix of kindness from different individuals and campus organizations, notably KUHeS CCAPSO, amidst the demands of academic life. While loans have been a necessary resource at times, the generosity of others has been a vital lifeline, making my journey a delicate balancing act of kindness and struggle.

So if you ask me what has kept me going? It’s hope and faith in God that sustain me, coupled with the kindness of people who have become my support system—people I wouldn’t dare disappoint.

However, lately, the struggles have intensified as I near the finish line, with financial constraints and the weight of my decisions bearing down on me.

So you see, when I finished feasting on the chips I craved so much, I realized that I have only a few days left to have proper meals. Sometimes, struggling university students live a life no different from street kids—or more properly, roadside beggars.

Let me end my story by unfolding what has changed my perspective of kindness—from showing kindness to anyone, to repaying it. I have been subjected to judgment and humiliation for my own decisions in the eyes of people I considered friends. I felt betrayed to realize that, as a married man, you cannot seek help when you are a student.

In that moment, I understood that my Malawi—the people who have been kind to me—are the ones I want to make a difference for.

So I walk forward, not defeated but determined—to finish what I started, to honor the kindness shown to me, and to be that kindness for someone else.

Based on true story!!