Yellow Card to the Chapo Government: From Promised Prosperity to the Threshold of Poverty

There is a growing number of opinions corroborating the idea that Mozambique has transformed itself into a country that has ceased to move towards development and is dangerously plunging into a dark regression, marked by the destruction of the social fabric and the deconstruction of the identity and unity foundations that inspired the struggle for liberation. The dominant feeling in the streets, hospitals, schools, and markets is no longer just dissatisfaction, but profound sorrow and loss of hope in the face of a state captured by incompetence, political arrogance, and the absence of a strategic vision for sustainable development—or, if we prefer, a disconnect that is not only ideological but also discursive. With each public statement, with each dawn, society trembles and agonizes because the indifference shown in each paragraph has not been to minimize the devastating effects of misery.

Under the historical rule of FRELIMO, the country has regressed exponentially over the last 50 years, as if heading towards a zero point from which to attempt a new beginning. And with each election and elected president, the hope of this new beginning lingers, a hope that seems far from happening. In the hands of FRELIMO, the country has been slowly transformed into a space where party loyalty is valued more than competence, where failure is frequently rewarded, and where the poverty of the people no longer seems to provoke any moral discomfort among the governing elites. The result has become visible in all sectors: youth without prospects, rampant unemployment, a suffocating cost of living, degraded public services, and institutions incapable of meeting the basic needs of the population.

Going backwards is not just a metaphorical stylistic device; it's a concrete reality, certainly hard to pronounce. It's going backwards when a country rich in natural gas, coal, fertile land, and mineral resources remains unable to guarantee decent food for its people. It's going backwards when hospitals cease to be places of hope and become representations of suffering and abandonment. It's going backwards when schools produce low-quality diplomas while thousands of young graduates are condemned to unemployment and informal work.

The recent appointment of Carmelita Namashilua as Inspector-General of the State has become a perfect symbol of institutional decay. Her time at the Ministry of Education was associated with some of the most embarrassing episodes in public administration: scandalous spelling errors in national exams, serious management failures, and a growing discrediting of the education system.

In a country even minimally committed to meritocracy and public accountability, a track record of this nature should warrant caution. However, in Mozambique, failure often seems to transform into a passport for political promotions. The appointment of Carmelita Namashilua reinforces the perception that the state apparatus remains subordinate to the partisan interests of Frelimo, regardless of the results achieved.

This scenario raises profound doubts about the political autonomy and leadership capacity of President Daniel Chapo. Various opinion circles and media outlets are beginning to question whether the head of state effectively governs for the country or merely manages internal party balances. There is a growing feeling of a president constrained by party structures, incapable of breaking with old political vices and lacking sufficient authority to promote genuine governmental renewal.

Presidential speeches, far from reassuring the population, have frequently exacerbated the perception of improvisation and political superficiality. While the country faces a severe social and economic crisis, the President often seems disconnected from the concrete reality experienced by the average citizen. Instead of presenting structural solutions to unemployment, the cost of living crisis, or the degradation of public services, the official discourse insists on vague slogans and symbolic measures.

A tragicomic example of this was the launch of the idea of ​​creating small urban gardens to replace paved areas and cemented public spaces, the result of individual efforts to establish decent housing. The proposal, presented as a solution to food and economic issues, was met with irony by many sectors of society, trivializing the President who still stubbornly refuses to acknowledge his role as the architect of millions' destinies and continues to be the timber crushed by the blows of a cunning predatory elite, or whose credibility seems irrecoverable in the eyes of the suffering people of the Indian Ocean. Not because agriculture is negligible, but because it sounds offensive to reduce the debate on food security to the opening of small, improvised gardens in a country with millions of hectares of arable land, extensive river basins, and extraordinary natural conditions for large-scale agricultural production.

A serious government would be investing in agricultural mechanization, irrigation, technical assistance, storage, industrialization, and distribution of production. It would be transforming the countryside into a national economic engine. Instead, the country remains dependent on imports, grappling with food insecurity and witnessing families unable to afford basic necessities.

Meanwhile, the crisis between the government and healthcare professionals is reaching alarming levels. For over a year, doctors, nurses, and other professionals have been denouncing inadequate salaries, poor working conditions, and a lack of serious dialogue from the government. According to these professionals, the crisis has already contributed to the deaths of more than two thousand people whose lives could have been saved under normal operating conditions of the national health system.

The number is terrifying. Two thousand lives lost represent fathers, mothers, children, and citizens who could be alive today. These deaths expose the failure of a state incapable of preserving what should be sacred: human life.

Even more disturbing is observing the government's apparent indifference to the magnitude of the tragedy of a collapsed healthcare system. There has been no political urgency proportionate to the gravity of the situation, no genuine connection with healthcare professionals, no institutional humility to acknowledge errors or establish concrete commitments. On the contrary, the government seems to walk on impassively, as if two thousand deaths associated with the partial collapse of the healthcare system were merely an administrative detail.

This is extremely dangerous and degrading for any society when a state loses thousands of citizens due to structural negligence and yet refuses to sit down at the table for dialogue with healthcare professionals, showing a lack of willingness to act with seriousness and sensitivity, ultimately demonstrating a dangerous trivialization of human life. The message conveyed to the population is devastating: the life of the average citizen is worth little in the face of the bureaucratic arrogance of power.

At the same time, the President is making numerous trips abroad, attempting to project an international diplomatic image while internally the country plunges into a spiral of degradation. There is a growing perception of a disconnect between the government and the national reality.

The hydrocarbon crisis further reinforces this feeling of collective failure. For years, natural gas was sold as a passport to national prosperity. Jobs, industrialization, wealth, and economic transformation were promised. Today, however, the people remain poor, while the real benefits seem distant for most citizens.

Poverty is rampant, unemployment is destroying dreams, the cost of living is suffocating families, and despair is silently growing among young people. And when a generation loses hope, the entire country is at risk. Crime, violence, radicalization, and social tension are on the rise.

The Chapo government therefore deserves a firm yellow card, not only for the inherited mistakes, but above all for the demonstrated inability to reverse the course of regression. The country needed strong leadership, reformist courage, and a break with the failed practices of the past. Instead, we are witnessing the continuation of the same partisan logic, the same recycled faces, and the same disconnect between power and popular suffering. Mozambique does not need empty speeches, improvised symbolism, or optimistic propaganda. It needs competence, strategic vision, public responsibility, and the courage to put the national interest above partisan interests.