Mbumba, a dedicated farmer, lived with his wife Alina and three children, Kingab, Kwilwa, and little Ndiywa, in a modest mud-brick house in a small village called Sangwa. Their home was five miles away from a small field that had been passed down through generations. Mbumba walked to the field every day, apart from Saturday and Sunday, carrying a hoe over his shoulder and a machete, while his wife prepared porridge for the children.
Life in Sangwa was very difficult. To survive, most residents, like Mbumba, subsisted on farming. When the rains were good, they harvested significant crops, some of which they ate and some of which they sold at the nearest market. But hunger spread in the village when the rains were poor or nonexistent.
Mbumba developed a strong desire to improve his family’s circumstances. One year, he heard about the successful farmers in the nearby districts. These farmers had fields that yielded large harvests, producing at least 50 bags of maize per acre. Mbumba reasoned that if he planted more maize, it would help him address his family’s extreme poverty. His children would then have enough food and decent clothes, and they would receive a quality education.
The following evening, Mbumba decided to share his plan with Alina. “My lovely wife, please come. I have something important to discuss with you.” Alina begged him to wait for five minutes until she finished washing Ndiywa.
When she was finished, she came to Mbumba and said, “I am here, my hubby. Please, tell me.” Mbumba started presenting his plan to his wife. He said, “If we plant more maize this year, we will earn more.” She looked at him and asked, “Where will we get the money to rent fields and buy fertilizers and seeds?” Mbumba was silent for a moment and then lowered his head. “I will borrow,” he said.
A few days later, Mbumba travelled to the next district, Nsanganja, where there was a trading center, to find a moneylender. He met a wealthy moneylender, Manjaa, who agreed to provide him with 2,000,000 Malawi kwacha on a 4% monthly interest rate. Manjaa sat behind a wooden desk, wearing a suit and an expensive watch. The office looked professional; it featured high-quality decorations and good security. Mbumba knew the interest was high, but he was determined to be successful. He was given a contract, which he signed with trembling hands. He hoped that he could pay back the money and even make a profit after harvesting.
For the first few weeks, Mbumba worked harder than ever before. He asked two workers to help him clear more land in his field, and he rented a second field for 70,000 Malawi kwacha. He bought maize seeds and waited for the rain to come.
But nature disappointed him. That season, the rains came late. And when it rained, it was intermittent. Mbumba had purchased insufficient fertilizer, and he didn’t have enough money to buy more for both fields. Because of the burning sun and insufficient fertilizer, the maize plants became yellow, and some of them withered before the harvest.
When the harvest time came, Mbumba was filled with fear. Both fields were almost bare. Maize plants were scattered here and there, with tiny cobs. After harvesting, Mbumba was unhappy and stressed because the yield was far too low to cover the debt and his family’s needs. The following day, he sat down on a plastic chair under a tree in his compound, thinking about the loan. He lost his appetite and refused to eat.
Alina tried to comfort him. “At least we have got something to eat,” she told him gently. Mbumba knew he was in trouble because he wouldn’t be able to repay the loan. Two months later, the moneylender started asking for the money, including the interest. Mbumba asked for more time. The moneylender gave him one more year. But the interest continued growing every month. The next harvest also failed because of an outbreak of pests and Mbumba struggled to make ends meet.
Sometimes, the family ate only once a day, and small portions of unhealthy food at that. The children stopped attending school because they lacked uniforms and books, and Mbumba couldn’t pay the school fees. The eldest child, Kingab, asked, “Dad, when will we resume school?” Mbumba felt so sad he was unable to answer the question. Kwilwa and Ndiywa became thin from hunger, and Alina started losing hope.
Then Mbumba’s worst fears were realized. The moneylender came to his house with some other men from Nsanganja. They stood outside and told Mbumba that his house would be confiscated because he was unable to pay the debt.
Mbumba fell to his knees. “Please,” he begged. “My children have nowhere to go.”
The moneylender didn’t listen to his pleas. He forced the family out of the house they had owned for a long time. The family’s few belongings were thrown outside, while the neighbors watched in horror. They did not intervene. Mbumba’s family moved to a hut owned by a good-hearted neighbor, who said they could stay there until they found a better place to live.
Life became intolerable. Mbumba’s spirit was consumed with shame, hunger, and hopelessness. He no longer spoke much and started spending a lot of time alone under a mango tree near the hut, staring into the distance.
Alina became very worried about her husband. One afternoon, she told him softly, “We are still alive, my husband. Let’s fight together and change our living conditions.” Mbumba didn’t respond. He could only see his failures as a husband and father.
Late one night, while his family and the entire village were sleeping, Mbumba got up and left the hut. The moonlight shone on the ground.
The next morning, at 5 a.m., two villagers who were going to their fields discovered his body hanging from a large tree near the maize field he had inherited from his ancestors. News spread quickly in the village. People felt pain in their hearts. Women cried, and men shook their heads in sorrow. Mbumba’s wife was inconsolable, and the children were confused and terrified.
“Why did Father decide to leave us?” Kingab asked his mother in tears. Alina couldn’t answer the question.
The following day, Mbumba was buried in the village cemetery, near a small tree. Villagers watched in silence as the dead body was covered with earth. After the funeral, life continued in Sangwa, but people still talk about Mbumba. His story is a reminder of the danger of extortionate loans and extreme poverty, and of how quickly farmers’ hopes and lives can end.
