Once upon a newsroom, in the echoing corridors of Times Group, lived a man who fancied himself Malawi’s answer to Christiane Amanpour if only Christiane Amanpour had a curry-stained kwachas courtesy of the Indian cabal, a fabricated name, and the political consistency of a coin toss.
We speak, of course, of Brian Banda though his birth certificate, if found, would reveal the less palatable truth: Juma Zammimba. Yes. Zammimba. A name that sounds like a sneeze and a bout of diarrhea all in one breath. A name that apparently caused such prolonged trauma on the playground that Juma was forced to rebrand himself entirely.
And herein lies the rub: a man who rewrites his own name cannot, by definition, be trusted to report the truth of others. But Brian has never been in the truth business. He’s in the Brian business. And business, lately, is bad.
Enter Leah Malekano: And Suddenly, Standards Returned
The entrance of Leah Malekano to Times Group was less of a hire and more of an exorcism. A well documented, well trained, utterly incorruptible journalist with over a decade of experience at Zodiak and credentials from LUANAR, the UK’s ICM, and the MISA-DW Akademie. She’s interviewed presidents, run prime-time current affairs shows, and managed to do so without soliciting kickbacks to secure interviews, or by seeking compensation from Indians to broker high power meetings with senior members of government.
Leah represents everything Brian Banda is not: calm, principled, surgically precise with her questions, and respected by both government and opposition alike. Her arrival has turned the Times Group newsroom into an actual newsroom again, instead of a stage for one man’s hormonal outbursts disguised as political analysis.
Brian’s Love-Hate (Mostly Hate) Relationship with Women
Now, here’s where things get spicy. Brian Banda does not handle strong women well. Ask any junior female journalist who’s survived a “coffee date” invitation. Rumour has it Brian believes HR means Hot Reporters.
He is a man who according to newsroom folklore once tried to serenade a young reporter at a rally, was publicly rejected, and reacted not with grace but by allegedly throwing a chair at the young lass. His romantic style? Somewhere between Romeo and Jefrey Epstein. And those who’ve turned him down have often found themselves suddenly demoted, sidelined, or ghosted harder than his old name.
To say Leah’s presence makes him uneasy is an understatement. Leah doesn’t flirt, fumble, or fetch tea. She leads. And Brian, ever fragile, is not used to women who rise without kneeling first.
The Panic is Palpable
Sources inside Times Group confirm: Brian now avoids Leah in corridors like a child dodging homework. His swagger, once semi-intact, now flaps loosely behind him like a badly tied necktie in a power cut. His confidence? Shot. His voice? A little higher. His scripts? Riddled with panic rewrites.
Meanwhile, Leah walks in each morning like she owns the broadcast tower and quite frankly, she should.
The Curious Case of Chikadya’s Selective Blindness
And yet, as Brian’s antics continue unchecked, Leonard Chikadya, Times Group’s CEO and part-time Rupert Murdoch wannabe, watches in silence. The same Leonard who preaches editorial independence and high standards now presides over a newsroom where Brian Banda is allowed to operate like a hormonal dictator in a press pass.
Why? Possibly because Leonard is still sulking having been jilted, it seems, by the incumbent President that declined to assign him as a board seat at a prestigious parastatal. So what does he do? He uses the institution partly owned by the Kamuzu Banda family yes, his own paymasters, to launch editorial grenades at the very party they once helped to build.
It’s like trying to torch your landlord’s house while living rent-free in the garage.
Legacy vs Lunacy
Let’s be clear: Leah Malekano is the future. She is the journalist Times Group wants you to believe it employs: smart, clean, and unflinching.
Brian Juma Zammimba Banda, is a ghost from the past. An actor in his own tragicomedy, playing every part but the professional. He is what happens when ego meets access, when unverified gossip replaces verification, and when no one in management is brave enough to say, “mate, maybe sit this one out.”
He is not a watchdog. He’s a lapdog in a necktie. And lately, he barks only when told or jilted.
The Final Word
Leah Malekano is not here to fill a quota. She’s here to raise the bar.
And with every polished segment, every surgical interview, she exposes the tragic farce that Brian Banda has become. A man whose greatest fear isn’t irrelevance it’s being outshined by a woman who did everything he pretended to do, but better, cleaner, and without needing to change her name.
Let the newsroom wars begin.
In this corner: Leah fearless, flawless, and finally here.
In the other: Juma Zammimba—a man still running from his past and from women with better press cards than him.
