It’s About Dignity”: Lungu Family Cries Out Over Painful Betrayal by the State.

“It’s About Dignity”: Lungu Family Cries Out Over Painful Betrayal by the State.

With sorrow etched deep in every word, the family of late President Edgar Chagwa Lungu has broken its silence exposing what they describe as an agonizing experience marked by broken promises, shifting goalposts, and a burial process that has become a national shame rather than a moment of honor.

From Johannesburg, family spokesperson Makebi Zulu fought back emotion as he spoke on behalf of a grieving family that says it feels humiliated, isolated, and stripped of its right to mourn in peace.

“This is not politics. This is about basic human decency,” Zulu said, his voice trembling. “We are mourning a father, a husband, a brother, and a leader. And all we’ve asked for is the space, the sincerity, and the dignity to say goodbye.”

Instead, the family says it has endured a cruel series of betrayals from the Zambian government beginning just a day after the late president passed away on June 5. Initial talks, they say, began in good faith on June 6. But every step forward was met with two steps back. Agreements reached with government leaders were later discarded. Commitments were made then denied.

Even the intervention of regional elder statesmen, such as former Malawian President Bakili Muluzi, was not enough to keep the process from unraveling. “What was agreed between President Hichilema and President Muluzi was later thrown out,” Zulu said, his tone heavy with disbelief. “Every time progress was made, the government changed the terms. Again and again.”

For the family, the pain has gone far beyond bureaucratic confusion it has become personal.

“What hurts the most,” Zulu confessed, “is the deliberate attempt to turn public opinion against us. State-owned and aligned media have painted us as difficult and unreasonable. We are not. We are just broken. We are just a family asking for peace.”

With tears in his heart, Zulu described how the state’s handling of the situation has left the family feeling like strangers in their own country as if their loved one’s legacy was being erased, one headline at a time.

“The body of our father still lies in wait. Not because we are divided. But because each time we come close to honouring his final wishes, those in charge move the goalposts.”

The grief, he said, has been compounded by silence, misinformation, and the sense that the very institutions meant to support them in mourning have instead waged a quiet campaign to shame them.

“We are hurting,” Zulu said quietly. “We are trying to bury a man who gave his life in service of this country, and yet we are being treated as though our pain is a burden.”

His final words were not political they were a raw, human plea to the conscience of the nation.

“We don’t want a spectacle. We don’t want fanfare. We just want a dignified farewell. We want to honour him with the same respect he gave this country whether you loved him or not. He was a father. He was ours. Let us bury him with peace.”

As Zambia watches, and as days turn to weeks with no closure in sight, the question now lingers painfully in the air: will a grieving family be allowed to mourn their loved one in dignity or will politics bury compassion?