The Cost of Betrayal: A Reflection on Loyalty and Consequence
By Dr Mwelwa
I am Bemba, and I write this with a heavy heart. It pains me to say these words, but truth must be spoken, even when it cuts deep. I do not write as an outsider throwing stones; I write as one among you, ashamed of what I see, yet hoping that we can wake up before it is too late. A lion that fails to teach its cubs to hunt only raises prey, and today, I ask—what have we become?
During the Bill 10 debate, the Patriotic Front (PF) tried to lure known UPND members into betraying the Zambian people. They promised them riches, comfort, and political survival, but they stood firm. They refused to sell the nation for a few pieces of silver. This was a test of integrity, and some passed. But today, as another moment of truth approaches, I fear that the ones who will betray Zambia will not be strangers—it will be my own brothers from the North and East. Those whose names are already written in the pages of infamy, those who have made betrayal a culture. Ukutangila tekufika—being first on the road does not mean you will be the first to arrive.
Look at Gary Nkombo. A man who has served in government, who has faced adversity, who has been fired but has not turned to insults. It is not that he does not have grievances; it is that he understands the meaning of loyalty and respect. His principles are intact. He has not gone begging for favors from those he once opposed. As Socrates once said, The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be. Nkombo is a lesson, a reminder that dignity still exists in some corners of this nation.
But then, there are others. Look at Amos Chanda—welcomed into UPND, embraced by those who saw value in him. And what did he do? He immediately started throwing dirt at the very men who gave him a name, insulting even Michael Sata and Edgar Lungu, the very people who once trusted him. Tell me, if a man can curse his former masters so easily, why should the new one trust him? HH saw through the deception and cut him loose. That is how a true leader acts. As Confucius said, He who flatters with one hand and stabs with the other is a friend to no one.
And what of Miles Sampa? A man who has hopped between parties more times than the seasons have changed. This is the man who once said a Tonga must marry a Bemba to win an election. He turned against Lungu, crawled back when things didn’t work out, then turned again. And now, what does he stand for? Nothing but his own survival. He is not alone in this. His actions mirror those of many from the North and East who see politics not as a duty to serve but as a marketplace where the highest bidder wins their loyalty.
Then there is Geoffrey Bwalya Mwamba (GBM), a man who once wielded influence but now finds himself in a difficult place. He has had his share of political shifts, moving between parties and changing allegiances. Perhaps, in the end, the cost of such a path was too high. Today, he sits unwell, facing the consequences of a political life that lacked a single, unwavering agenda. And though I critique his decisions, I cannot help but feel sympathy for him. A man is more than his political choices—he is a father, a husband, a member of a community. Even as we analyze his journey, let us not lose our humanity. The Greeks warned us, The price of dishonor is exile, and the price of disloyalty is loneliness. One must ask—did GBM’s choices bring him closer to power or leave him isolated in the end?
Chishimba Kambwili is another whose political path has been unpredictable. One day chanting UPND slogans, the next back in PF, shouting Alebwelelapo as if he had never strayed. His firebrand nature has made him both loved and despised, but what has it truly earned him? A man who does not stand firm is no different from dry grass in the wind—he will go wherever the wind takes him, but he will never have a place to call home.
And then there is Sunday Chilufya Chanda, a man who used to smear HH with insults daily. Today, he is whispering his way into UPND, hoping for protection. Should we trust such people? Are these not the same people who will betray Zambia when the time comes for constitutional amendments? Umulilo uwaikatisha, tabapalamako ubushiku bwacha—you do not warm yourself with a fire that might burn you tomorrow. As the ancient Greeks taught us, A false friend and a shadow attend only while the sun shines.
And yet, I look at a man like Royd Moonga, who had his differences with HH but still carried himself with dignity. Even when he left, he refused to go on a campaign of insults. When I asked him for dirt on HH, he simply said, “I will not speak ill of him, for he was like a father to me.” That is what loyalty looks like. That is what honor looks like.
We, the Bemba and Eastern people, must ask ourselves—why are we seen as traitors? Why do we not stand firm in one place? Is it greed? Is it lack of discipline? Is it the love of quick rewards? A tree that is uprooted too many times will never grow strong roots. The same applies to men who change sides whenever the wind blows. A nation cannot be built by men who cannot be trusted. Ubushiku bufwile inkalamo, cimbwi talebepo abengi—when the lion dies, the hyenas come in numbers. We must not be those hyenas, circling only where the meat is.
Let us learn from those who stand firm. Let us be men whose word means something. If we continue like this, we will be remembered not as warriors, but as sellouts. We cannot allow that shame to stain our name for generations. A man’s true worth is tested when the storm comes. Let us not be found wanting. As Lao Tzu wisely said, He who stands on tiptoe is not steady; he who rushes ahead does not go far.
A nation is only as strong as the trust that binds its people. Let us not be the weak link in the chain. Amaka ya baume tabi pwa mukoshi, yapwa mu mutima. A man’s strength is not in his neck, but in his heart. May our hearts be strong, and may our actions reflect the honor we claim to have.
