There are losses that feel unreal, as if the world has made a mistake and will correct itself if we wait long enough. The deaths of five Malawian musicians this week feels like that kind of loss; sudden, disorienting, and deeply unfair.

They were on the road, doing what musicians across the continent have always done: travelling long distances to keep the music alive, to show up for audiences, to make a living from their craft. Instead, the journey ended in tragedy. They were travelling from Blantyre to Lilongwe, a mere 360 kilometers, a journey they had taken many times before.

Raphael Chitsonga (drummer and sound engineer)

MacFarlane Banda (guitarist)

Vincent Mkwinda (road manager)

Wilfred Kapengule Jnr (pianist and music producer)

Elivacy Myaba (vocalist)

They were not just names. They were the sometimes unseen backdrop of many unforgettable performances across Malawi’s stages.

As members of The Hive Band, they helped carry Malawi’s contemporary sound with class, care, and devotion to the music. When they met their death they were on their way to perform with Eli Njuchi, one of Malawi’s Afro-pop talents. Njuchi canceled the concert and immediately attended to the needs of their respective families.

Since the news broke, grief has moved through Malawi’s creative community, shock, disbelief, and a silence that feels too heavy. A planned performance was cancelled, but what truly paused was the sense that tomorrow is guaranteed.

I knew Wilfred Jnr and Elivacy but I was  more familiar with Wilfred who was called Jue by all who knew him. He was a kind, calm spirit who lived for the music. He played the piano. He adored jazz even though he had never taken a jazz class. He would mention the late Musa Manzini as his inspiration, among other greats. He took music very seriously.

He and Elivacy were also part of a cover band called Mingoli Band, performing across the city of Blantyre. Their sets were electric, the kind that never failed to pull people onto the dance floor. That is how I met them. From that moment, they became friends, and they remained so, right until the end.

Their deaths also ask uncomfortable questions about the risks artists take every day: long drives, unsafe roads, and the absence of protection for those who carry a country’s cultural life on their backs.
Still, there is gratitude. For the music they made, the stages they graced, the lives they touched, mine included. Their sound remains, in recordings, in memory, in the way Malawi will remember them.

Today, the music feels quieter. But it has not disappeared. May their names be spoken and summoned in musical spaces across the country.