When Outsiders Stir the Dust: PFSA, Politics, and the Disrespect of African Burial Customs

When Outsiders Stir the Dust: PFSA, Politics, and the Disrespect of African Burial Customs

By Dr Mwelwa

When a hyena wants to stir the dust around the lion’s grave, it forgets that silence does not mean surrender—it means mourning. In the heart of Africa, where respect for the dead is sacred and mourning is not a political performance but a solemn right, we are now witnessing a disturbing twist of the knife into the soul of a grieving family. The Progressive Forces of South Africa (PFSA), a group whose political identity is as vague as its moral compass, has chosen to accuse the Lungu family of “running away from court cases.” This reckless pronouncement is not only ignorant—it is insulting, inflammatory, and profoundly misinformed.

It is not the African way to raise dust over a corpse; it is not the Zambian way to politicize a funeral. And yet, here we are—watching PFSA, from across the border, attempt to manufacture outrage and direct burial policy for a country they neither represent nor understand. There has been no uprising in Zambia, no petition, no grassroots protest accusing the Lungu family of wrongdoing. The Zambian people, in their collective wisdom, have responded to this moment with dignity, restraint, and silence—because they understand what it means to lose a loved one. But PFSA, apparently with time and funding to spare, has chosen to dishonor the dead and defame the living.

Let us make this plain: there is no court case in Zambia requiring the Lungu family’s presence. There is no warrant, no summons, no judicial order that has been ignored. If there are legal matters to be answered, they must proceed through lawful and independent processes—not through press statements issued by external pressure groups masquerading as moral authorities.

Even a family under investigation retains its constitutional rights. And in the case of burial, South African law explicitly vests the right of burial in the next of kin—not in the state, and certainly not in a South African fringe political group with no legal standing in Zambia. To suggest that mourning in another country is an escape from justice is not just shallow—it’s malicious. It also dangerously undermines both Zambia’s sovereignty and South Africa’s legal system, which rightly prioritizes the dignity of the dead and the rights of grieving families.

A child who does not know where the rain began to beat him will not know where to begin drying his body. PFSA does not speak for Zambia, and it does not speak for South Africa either. Their intervention is not driven by pan-African solidarity, but by a growing suspicion that they have been co-opted to carry a narrative foreign to both Zambian public sentiment and legal reasoning. One must ask: who benefits from this disruption? Who funds this indignation? Who writes their script?

The Lungu family, whether loved or criticized, is not on trial. They are in mourning. To convert their grief into a political tool is to dance naked in the village square and call it leadership. African culture teaches us that even an enemy deserves dignity in death. That principle is not suspended because of past disagreements or speculative investigations.

Let us be clear: the Zambian government itself has approached South African courts to stop the burial of a former President, a move that is both unprecedented and legally questionable. This has already created diplomatic friction and cast Zambia in an unflattering light. For PFSA to now insert itself as the moral compass of this tragedy is not only presumptuous—it risks inflaming tensions between two nations historically bound by freedom struggles, not funerals.

The African proverb reminds us: “When the roots of a tree begin to decay, it spreads death to the branches.” If political groups like PFSA continue to weaponize grief, distort law, and undermine family rights, the result will be not justice—but generational division, cultural erosion, and constitutional confusion.

The Lungu family deserves empathy, not condemnation. If there are legal matters to resolve, let them be handled after burial, through formal and competent courts—not through headlines authored by non-state actors with hidden agendas.

To PFSA: Zambia is not your playground, and our grief is not your podium. You do not speak for us, and you certainly do not decide where our leaders are buried. If you respect the memory of our shared liberation, stay in your lane and let the next of kin bury their dead in peace.

For Zambia knows what you have forgotten: “You do not point at your father’s house with the left hand.”