Malawi Poem by Emmanuel Arunee Mwanza

May I introduce myself... I am Malawi.
Those who love me call me the Warm Heart of Africa.
I don't mind being called so,
For it is the beauty in me that mesmerizes,
Casting a spell of attraction on all who visit or are born within me.

Despite my beauty,
And the care I offer to both natives and guests,
Something still feels incomplete.
My people live in a war zone, though no weapons are used.
I see them fighting poverty, hunger, jealousy—
Perplexed by the ever-growing troubles they face.
As I quietly watch, shame overtakes me;
I realize my beauty is of little help now.
Oh! My people, how do I help you?

Look at those living in partially finished homes—
I can't sleep without dreams haunting me,
As hungry voices cry out for help.
Walk the streets, see little kids striving to survive.
Step into the offices, and witness the working class,
Struggling under the weight of skyrocketing prices.
Everything has risen—food, clothes—
Yet my people still stand as they did yesterday.

I see the hope in my people,
Staring at their mother for food, though it is not there.
My children, hold onto hope.
Don't worry, is all I can say to them.
A day is coming when my beauty will help,
And my people will fight hunger, poverty, jealousy no more.