A PORTRAIT OF PRIVATISATION, BLANTYRE AND SALIMA
text by Mabel Mnensa, writer, Cape Town (with roots in Malawi).

Blantyre is a city stuck in a privatisation induced coma. The crumbling buildings, abandoned foundations of houses never built and lengths of fenced but undeveloped land hint at a developing city comatose.
On the road towards the Blantyre CBD from the airport is an abandoned Air Malawi aeroplane marooned on a seemingly neglected piece of foundation. A foreign business person who insists on doing the work alone has been building a hotel which will feature a roof bar looking out to the derelict plane. Air Malawi, under financial strain, was liquidated and flights were suspended in February 2013. From July of that same year, it was operated by Ethiopian Airlines in a strategic partnership.
Off the same road is an area once known as ‘Railways’ where families of those who worked for Malawian Railways lived, a parastatal once run by the Malawian government. Once home to a vibrant community, it is now a dead space with high walls, and roads that become slimmer by the day as the dirt road that lies underneath, aided by time, slowly encroaches. Evidently, Malawian Railways was also prey to the more destructive side of privatisation; sold off in 1999, a move that made it the first railway system in Africa not operated by a parastatal.
The effect of the privatisation of Malawian Railways can however be traced right up to Salima, a town that is a four hour drive away from the city of Blantyre. What remains of the once popular Salima Railway Station are the barely standing doors, peeling layers of paint and the buildings surrounded by wild bush. It is understandable for anyone to struggle to imagine Salima Railway station as ever having been the centre of economic activity in the town. The road that leads to it is now rarely taken; it is dusty and rocky, determined to test the bearings of any car.
Only the signage on the abandoned and derelict buildings along this road suggest that they were once shops, and that the road along Salima Railway station was once bustling with economic activity between the 1970s and 1980s. Trains carrying goods and passengers heading to Blantyre, Tanzania, Zambia and even down to Zimbabwe passed the town. Taxis, buses, shops and traders converged around the station. Coming from the surrounding towns and villages, reluctant children with sleep-laden eyes were often spotted slumbering behind mothers determined to get onto the 6 am train ride to the city of Blantyre.
In 2018, all that remains of those heydays are the fuzzy memories of the children — now grandparents — who recall with fondness stories featuring Salima station in its glory days and a building that is now a mere shell, serving as a pitstop for good trains between the neighbouring cities. But even its days are numbered; soon it will be demolished. The station was recently acquired by a Brazilian company with no interest in its history or the memories it holds. A manager, when asked about the demolition, said they had no choice as the roof was threatening to collapse and so were the doors. No mention was made of the still solid building and foundation, nor the cultural heritage of the building. This manager also believes the building was established in 2000, at a push in 1997. He is not from Salima and he too is not concerned with its histories.
Salima, a town dating back centuries, is also home to one of the most beautiful Lake Malawi lakeshores, but there is not a single monument or building that tells its story. For now, all its stories exist in the vocal exchanges between generations.
Salima railway station poses an important question, one especially poignant for African spaces, “whose job is it to preserve the history and heritage of a place?” Perhaps the answer lies in a healthier form of privatisation for these African spaces: a privatisation and democratisation of the town’s memories and histories that digs beyond the facade of decay and neglect, exposing layers of a rich past on which the future narratives of the people of Salima and those dedicated to it can be made possible. This is an alternative to the fast approaching reality of the conquering outsider, more invested in bottom lines than histories, subsequently owning Salima’s narrative and overwriting their stories.
Perhaps, Salima Railway Station should be registered as a heritage site to be protected from demolition, and rather repurposed to become a museum or monument housing the town’s precious memories. But for now it is but a town in a coma waiting for someone to make the daring move.
