Dear Editor,
PRESIDENT Hakainde Hichilema’s visit to the funeral house of Mr Peter Kapala is a solemn reminder of the unbearable pain that comes with the loss of a life partner.
The death of a spouse shatters the heart, disorients the soul and leaves a void that no words or gestures can ever fully fill. In such moments, compassion, dignity and closure are not luxuries they are necessities.
When I saw the video of Mr Kapala broken down I remembered Madam Esther Lungu, Zambia’s former First Lady. Months have passed since she lost her husband, a former head of State, the father of her children, the man with whom she shared her life.
And still, she remains trapped in a cruel and prolonged mourning, denied the simple, sacred right to bury her husband and find closure.
While one widower is allowed to grieve openly, supported and comforted, another widow continues to mourn in uncertainty, her pain stretched endlessly by circumstances she did not create.
Each passing day reopens the wound. Each delay deepens the trauma. Grief does not heal when it is suspended; it only grows heavier.
Death strips away titles, politics and power. In death, we are simply human. Widows are simply widows. Pain does not ask which side of politics one stood on. Tears do not recognise party colours. And sorrow does not respond to authority or office.
To deny a widow the right to bury her husband is to deny her dignity. It is to deny her peace. It is to turn mourning into punishment.
No woman should carry such a burden, least of all under the watch of a nation that claims to be governed by law, justice and Christian values.
Compassion must not be selective. Humanity must not be conditional. If we can stand with one grieving family today, we must also stand with another who has waited far too long for mercy, fairness, and closure.
Let this tragedy awaken our collective empathy. Let it remind us that leadership is not only shown in moments of power, but in moments of mercy. And let Madam Lungu be allowed what every widow deserves the right to mourn, to bury and to heal.
AMAI SHAKA.





