What an electrifying week it has been watching the Malawi elections. From the sidelines, it felt like a thrilling horse race between two veterans: Peter Mutharika and Lazarus Chakwera.
At the time of writing, both men were claiming victory, even before the electoral commission had officially declared results. As a Kenyan, I could not help but feel a mixture of fascination and frustration. Much of the political grapevine unfolded in Chichewa, Malawi’s national language, and while I admired the vibrancy of the exchanges, I missed out on the wit, the jokes and the full cultural flavour.
But beneath the drama and colour lies something more important. This election was not simply a spectacle. It is a mirror reflecting our political landscape and offering lessons, some inspiring, others cautionary, as we prepare for 2027.
For a moment, Malawi was Africa’s democratic darling. In 2017, Kenya set a historic precedent when former CJ Maraga annulled a presidential election. Two years later, Malawi’s courts followed suit, nullifying their 2019 presidential election. Both cases were celebrated as rare acts of judicial courage that reinforced the principle that the will of the people must be respected. Yet today, that glow has faded.
In Malawi, optimism has given way to disillusionment and a failing economy. That trajectory holds important lessons for Kenya. The real story of Malawi’s election is the economy. The incoming president inherits a nation in distress. Inflation stands at over 28 per cent. Poverty has risen to 71.2 per cent. Basic commodities are scarce, and fuel shortages have made daily life unbearable. For Kenya, this is a sobering reminder. Our politics may still pivot around ethnic mobilisation, but the decisive factor in 2027 will be the cost of living.
Coalitions in both countries reveal another similarity. Chakwera’s coalition, once hailed as a model of unity, quickly fell apart. Joyce Banda and the UTM Party bolted, leaving the president politically vulnerable. Kenya’s Azimio coalition has faced a similar fate. Barely months after the 2022 election, cracks appeared as partners defected, leaving citizens confused about which coalition held a majority in Parliament. Parties that exist merely as vehicles for personal ambition cannot sustain stability or deliver coherent policies
Nepotism and corruption form another cautionary tale. Chakwera faced widespread criticism for appointing relatives and close allies to top government positions. His son-in-law’s appointment as his Director of Communications earned him the nickname “Family Man.” Combined with perceptions that his administration had abandoned the war on graft, public trust eroded swiftly. For Kenya, corruption scandals and nepotistic appointments may seem politically survivable in the short term, but they poison public trust.
Perhaps the most striking aspect of Malawi’s politics is the generational disconnect. More than half of Malawians are under 35, and the average age is only 17.5. Yet, their presidential choices were men in their seventies and eighties. Unsurprisingly, the youth took to the streets to demand jobs, food, and dignity. Kenya faces the same challenge. Their patience is wearing thin. If mainstream politics ignores their material needs, they too will find other, less predictable ways to push for change.
Institutional credibility is central. In Malawi, confusion over unannounced results and the spread of disinformation inflamed tensions.
Above all, the most powerful lesson from Malawi is that voters have grown more discerning. They want tangible results that improve daily life. For Kenya, the battle for 2027 will not be decided in rallies or clever campaign slogans. It will be won or lost on the bread-and-butter issues of jobs, food, healthcare, and affordable living.
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