Deep in the Malawi bush where lions and hyenas roam, it is easy to imagine what the ruins would look like: the clocktower toppled, the Romanesque arches crumbled, the wrought-iron gates bent and rusted, the artificial lake a malarial swamp, the entire 1 380-acre site a deserted, soundless rubble. Fitting tribute to a megalomaniac’s folly.
They named him after a little root, but Hastings Kamuzu Banda grew to become the Ngwazi – the conqueror and chief of chiefs. He was a conventional enough dictator who looted the treasury and jailed (or worse) his opponents.
But he had a unique dream: to give the smartest, most gifted children a classical education worthy of Plato. Kamuzu Academy was to last for ever.
This was almost a fairytale, replete with cricket, blazers and chips. The founder could take funds from his personal piggy bank – the State – and silence critics with a very real threat: ‘Food for the crocodiles.â€
Reality crashed through the crested gates in 1994 when the president was ousted from power. No more Banda, no more money and, inevitably it seemed, no more academy. Teachers and pupils left in droves, the electricity was cut off, paintwork flaked. Oblivion beckoned.
But Kazumu has confounded those who expected the jungle to swallow it. Tramping over the smooth lawns recently, a procession of several hundred pupils, teachers, parents and dignitaries carried flags to the auditorium and made speeches honouring the late dictator, his dream still very much alive as they celebrated the 21st anniversary of the academy’s foundation.
Often described as ‘the Eton in the bush†in deference to the top British school, Kamuzu is now a private, profit-making, fee-paying school where British staff teach United Kingdom high-school level Latin and Greek to the children of Malawi’s rich. ‘There was a real risk we would close, but we are past the danger. It’s getting easier year by year and I can say now that the academy is here to stay,” says Frank Cooke, the headteacher.
But from its inception, controversy has dogged the school, and the question remains: is this a beacon of excellence to nurture one of Africa’s poorest countries or an unfunny, wasteful parody of Englishness?
Some 150kms north of the capital, Lilongwe, in Malawi’s central region, the academy was built in the shadow of the kachere tree under which Scottish missionaries taught the young Banda to read and write at the beginning of the 20th century. Surrounding villages teemed with malnourished children too poor to go to school but when Kamuzu opened in November 1981, its 300 pupils had most of the education budget -USD40 -million – for, among other things, uniforms, dormitories, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, piano lessons, a golf course and a library modelled on Washington’s Library of Congress.
Presidents Robert Mugabe and Kenneth Kaunda heaped praise upon it, Ronald Reagan donated an inscribed dictionary, the BBC made a documentary and the headteacher of Eton was so impressed that he said Eton should be henceforth known as the Kamuzu of England.
Cooke (51), appointed as a history teacher in 1982 and the head since 1997, reels off the statistics: 390 pupils aged 11 to 19, girls a small majority; 38 teachers, of whom 20 are from Britain, 17 from Malawi and one from New Zealand; an additional staff of 450 to manage the facilities and crops of maize and tobacco. A board of six Malawian trustees administers the academy, which charges annual fees of USD 5 500 per pupil, per year.
‘We used to be free but when Dr Banda died we lost 100% of our income,” says Cooke. Half of the pupils and a third of the teachers left and those teachers who stayed took a 20% pay cut. ‘It was a traumatic few years but we rebuilt from the bottom up with fee-payers and we are now economically viable.”
Originally a working-class lad from Manchester, Cooke regrets that the founder’s vision of free access for the brightest did not last but, he says, standards remain high – 95% passed the United Kingdom high school level exam. ‘We’d be a good grammar school in Britain.”
Banda, a diminutive medical doctor with a taste for Homburg hats who trained and practised in Britain, was a raging Anglophile yet led the overthrow of British rule in his homeland, one of many paradoxes. His autocratic rule spared Malawi war and economic upheaval but poverty deepened and his political opponents tended to disappear or die in ‘car crashesâ€. Cooke weighs his words. ‘He was an enlightened despot – an extraordinary leader with vision. He could have bought two MiG fighters but instead built the school.”
Was Malawi not systematically mismanaged? A pause. ‘No, not entirely. It is right that the academy honours Dr Banda’s memory and remains as his memorial to the nation.”
The original ban on Malawi teachers has been lifted but the syllabus is largely unchanged: Latin and Greek compulsory up to 15-17 years but no modern languages, not even Chichewa, Malawi’s native language, and little African history or literature.
After a frosty start, relations with the founder’s democratically elected successor, Bakili Muluzi, have thawed. He attended founder’s day in 2001 and his portrait gazes from walls. The academy is no longer funded in any way by the education budget but the state-owned Press Trust recently donated USD 450 000.
By late afternoon classes and sports are over and pupils drift into their dorms, the boys’ walls adorned with posters of Porsches, Jennifer Lopez and Heineken. Most seem to be the children of government officials and executives. Politics is not popular. ‘You try to be careful because some elements of dictatorship are still there. There are children of politicians here. You could say something and next thing you know, your dad is fired,” says Walter Miseleni, 18, the headboy. After studying engineering in Britain – Cambridge University, he hopes – Miseleni wants to return and develop Malawi’s minerals. The headgirl, Thembi Katangwe (19), wants to study medicine in Britain and return as a paediatrician to fight HIV/Aids.
The headboy and headgirl adore the academy but criticise the new intakes of youngsters. Rich and not always bright, says Walter, they risk becoming an arrogant and spoiled island within their own country, despite the fact that they do regular charity work in poor villages.
He predicts that exam results will soon plunge because the entrance exam had been made easier, to facilitate fee-payers. Teachers disagree. Andrew Wild, who is head of science, says his classes of 13 to 20 pupils are highly motivated. Alex Collins (26), the newly arrived head of physical education, beams through his sunburn. ‘Fantastic. I’m head of a department and the kids are brilliant, they give you respect. Unlike my last school in south London, where I put a lot in and got nothing back.â€
The one problem for staff is the lack of social life. On site seven days a week, there is little to do but read, watch films on satellite television and chat to colleagues in the bar. ‘Please write that a young, female teacher is needed,” Collins grins. Most staff seem content, but they lament their low salaries – less than USD 19 000 – and the unreliable phone and Internet connections.
It would have been senseless to let Banda’s dream, folly or not, moulder into ruins. Many pupils and their parents’ money would simply have gone to expensive schools abroad. Thanks to Kamuzu, they stay at home, realising a tyrant’s vision of nurturing a breed apart. –