By Gregory Mofu
“Jesus wept.” — John 11:35
The shortest verse in the Bible. Yet, behind its brevity lies a depth of sorrow too heavy for words. Yesterday, Zambia lived its own version of that verse.
At a solemn press briefing in Lusaka, U.S. Ambassador to Zambia, Michael Gonzales, stood not just as a diplomat, but as a witness to a betrayal too painful to bear. As he announced the United States’ decision to slash K1.4 billion (US$50 million) worth of medical aid to Zambia, his eyes welled with tears. The image of a mzungu—a white man—shedding tears for Zambia became a piercing symbol of just how far we have fallen. Mzungu alila. A white person has cried.
And indeed, so should we all.
The aid cuts are not a matter of politics. They are about life and death. For the thousands living with HIV, battling tuberculosis, or fighting off malaria, this announcement means medicine shelves will run empty, clinics will turn away patients, and lives that could have been saved will be quietly lost in silence.
But these tears were not sudden. Ambassador Gonzales explained that since 2021, the U.S. government had uncovered massive theft in Zambia’s public health supply chain. Over 2,000 pharmacies were investigated—95% were selling stolen medical supplies. Nearly half of those stolen supplies had been donated by the American people, meant to be given freely to Zambians in need. The response from authorities? Silence, cover-ups, and token arrests of low-level individuals, while the real perpetrators remained protected.
How did we come to this? How did a nation that once stood as a beacon of democracy and hope become a place where even medicine for the dying is stolen for profit?
This is not just a funding crisis—it is a moral crisis. And the consequences will be devastating:
• Fewer antiretroviral drugs for HIV patients.
• Interrupted treatments for tuberculosis and malaria.
• A crippled healthcare system pushed further to its knees.
• A broken trust between Zambia and one of its longest-standing development partners.
Ambassador Gonzales’ tear was not just for stolen medicine—it was for stolen integrity, stolen lives, and a stolen future.
Now, Zambia must decide whether that tear will be ignored—or whether it will become the spark of reckoning and reform. Will we allow this to be remembered as the shortest day in our nation’s history, or the turning point?
The world is watching.
And Heaven, too, has already wept.