They say you can try to smuggle a pangolin, but you’ll always fail—not because the authorities are clever, but because the pangolin stinks.
No matter how much you wrap it, no matter how deep you hide it, that stench will rise, announcing itself to the world, declaring, “I AM HERE!” And so it is with Norman Chisale—the walking, talking, gun-waving embodiment of stench in Malawi’s political ecosystem.
Here is a man who began his journey as a mere secondary school dropout bodyguard to Peter Mutharika, but through the art of lurking in the corridors of power, he has morphed into the true power behind the throne, a shadow kingmaker ruling from the gutters. Like a pangolin stuffed into an illegal trader’s sack, his past crimes and present misdeeds cannot be concealed. His name reeks of corruption, violence, and impunity. And no matter how many times he bathes in his ill-gotten wealth, that stench does not wash off.
A Stinking Legacy
Norman Chisale, the man who once stood behind Peter Mutharika holding an umbrella, now stands in front of him, holding the leash. Some say he whispers into the ears of the former president, others say he shouts. Either way, the message is the same: power must return to the hands of those who see governance as an opportunity to loot, intimidate, and manipulate.
The pangolin analogy is fitting—not because Chisale is endangered (though one day he may be, when justice catches up with him), but because the stench of his actions can never be ignored. This is a man facing a truckload of criminal charges—fraud, money laundering, and corruption, among others. And yet, instead of answering for his crimes, he prowls the political jungle, issuing threats, flashing his wealth, and positioning himself as the gatekeeper to Mutharika’s ambitions.
The Protected Pangolin
The pangolin, in its natural state, is a protected species, much like Chisale has been under the DPP regime. Under Mutharika’s government, the law bent for him, shields were raised for him, and voices were silenced for him. When caught, he did not face the consequences—he simply dug his claws into the system and emerged stronger, more dangerous, and more emboldened.
But here’s the thing about protected species: when the environment changes, the protection disappears. The poachers become the hunted. And in the Malawi of 2025, the habitat that once sheltered the Chisales of this world is shrinking. The shadows are disappearing. The law—long trampled and mocked—is stirring back to life. And the day is coming when the rot will no longer be hidden behind the disguise of political loyalty.
The Pangolin: The Cure for Political Cancer
Perhaps the third point about the pangolin is its medicinal power. They say the pangolin is a cure for cancer—slow but effective, unassuming but deadly to the disease it fights. And so too shall The Pangolin be. We will be the antidote to the cancer of corruption, the scalpel cutting away the diseased flesh of Mutharika and Chisale’s legacy. We will expose, we will reveal, we will disinfect.
Norman Chisale, your time is coming. Your name is too pungent to be hidden, too protected to be ignored, too dangerous to be left unchallenged. We will be here, rolling out the truth, stripping away the lies, and ensuring that no one forgets the crimes of the past.
You can try to hide the pangolin, but you cannot hide the stench. And now, more than ever, Malawi needs a cure.
Welcome to The Pangolin. We Smell Too Bad to be Ignored—And We Are the Cure.
