Malawi is once again standing at an uncomfortable intersection—where faith, law, community interest, and national identity collide. The dispute between Asko Pesola and the Kachanga Mosque in Blantyre has sparked emotional reactions across the country, injecting new life into old debates about noise pollution, freedom of worship, and the delicate balance of coexistence.
Last week, the High Court in Blantyre, through Judge Mike Tembo, granted a seven-day preparation window before hearing Pesola’s application to restrict the mosque from performing the Adhaan, the traditional Islamic call to prayer. The applicant argues that the sound disrupts classes at a nearby school and interferes with the religious practices of others living in the vicinity.
Meanwhile, the mosque—represented by lawyer Morris Matola M’baya—views the request as a direct attack on religious freedom, a constitutional right they insist cannot be negotiated away simply because some find the practice inconvenient.
It is a legal showdown promising to be intense, emotional, and politically charged.
Noise or Worship? A Nation Struggles to Define the Boundary
This case exposes a fundamental tension Malawi has never fully confronted:
When does religious expression become noise, and who gets to decide?
Both sides are demanding absolute recognition of their rights.
Pesola’s camp claims the Adhaan—when amplified—disrupts learning and infringes on the peace of others. Their argument reflects a sentiment often ignored: that noise, whether religious or secular, can have real impacts on people’s daily lives. Malawi’s urban centres are full of unregulated loudspeakers, from churches and mosques to bars and political rallies. Pesola is not wrong to highlight the problem of unregulated sound. It is a national issue.
But the mosque’s side also has a legitimate point. The Adhaan is not merely an announcement; it is a religious obligation, an identity marker, and an ancient practice central to Islam. Shutting it down is not the same as telling someone to lower their stereo—it is akin to asking churches to silence their bells or Pentecostal churches to mute their praise teams. Freedom of worship cannot live on paper alone; it must also live in practice.
In truth, both sides stumble when they assert their positions as absolute and non-negotiable.
There is no absolute right—not to noise and not to unrestricted religious expression. Rights exist within a shared space, and shared spaces demand compromise.
A Constitutional Tug-of-War Being Fought Emotionally
The case has already inflamed public debate, with opinions like that of Mussah Langson circulating widely. His impassioned defence of Islamic worship is powerful—and correct in many respects. Malawi is not officially Christian or Muslim; it is constitutionally pluralistic. The state cannot suppress one religion to appease the sensibilities of another.
But passionate defences, while necessary, risk turning the conflict into a religious confrontation rather than a legal question.
When people begin to frame the issue as “Muslims under attack” or “Christians demanding silence,” nuance evaporates—and extremism festers.
On the other side, voices supporting Pesola must also resist the temptation to treat the Adhaan as deliberate disturbance rather than a centuries-old religious practice. The danger lies in demonising worship instead of interrogating how it is practised in modern, densely populated communities.
The Real Issue Malawi Keeps Avoiding
At the heart of this conflict is something far less dramatic than religion:
Malawi has no functioning, enforceable national framework regulating communal sound—religious or otherwise.
Churches blast speakers at dawn. Mosques issue calls to prayer. Nightclubs roar until morning. Politicians shout through megaphones.
When everything is loud, everything becomes a battle.
The Kachanga case is merely the symptom of a deeper failure:
Successive governments have lacked the courage to regulate communal sound fairly and consistently.
Instead, the courts are repeatedly forced to referee disputes that should have been addressed by policy long before tempers rose.
Where the Scales of Fairness Lean—But Only Slightly
Neutrality requires acknowledging the complexity of both arguments. Yet, if one must weigh the case strictly on constitutional principles, freedom of worship carries more legal weight than freedom from annoyance, particularly when the annoyance is not demonstrated as harmful but inconvenient.
This does not mean mosques (or churches) should be exempt from regulation. Volume controls, speaker positioning, and community agreements are all reasonable expectations in a functioning society.
But calling for a complete ban on the Adhaan—a religious rite—is legally excessive and socially inflammatory. If Pesola’s concern is volume, then the remedy is regulation, not prohibition.
A Lesson for a Fragile Nation
Malawi’s peace has always rested on coexistence, not conformity.
We do not have one faith, one culture, or one worldview. We have many. And each demands space.
But when that space is shared, negotiation—not confrontation—becomes the only sustainable option.
As the High Court prepares to hear this case, Malawians must resist the urge to turn it into a battlefield of identities. We must demand that the court apply the law calmly, that communities act in good faith, and that government finally confront the issue of sound regulation.
Because today it is the Adhaan.
Tomorrow it will be church speakers.
After that, political caravans.
If Malawi continues addressing these issues emotionally instead of legally, our future will be a nation where every sound becomes a lawsuit, and every disagreement becomes a crisis.
The Kachanga case is not about who is right—it is about whether Malawi can learn to share its soundscape without silencing its soul.
