The People Are Suspicious and History Confirms: Whoever Shakes Hands with FRELIMO Does Not Survive

Luis Munguambe Junior"

History, that old lady who never forgets, has repeated the same lesson to those who dare to pay attention: those who shake hands with FRELIMO do not survive. And yet, there are always those who insist, perhaps deluded by empty promises, perhaps convinced that this time it will be different. But it is not. It never was. It never will be.

Those who get too close disappear. Those who trust betray themselves. Those who believe in sweet words end up swallowed by poison. It’s all written, from the times of armed struggle to the present day. Enemies, allies, dissidents, opportunists — everyone’s fate is predictable. Some fall mysteriously, others are erased without explanation, and those who survive live like dead, silenced by fear or convenience. Does anyone still remember Samora Machel? The hero of independence, the man who believed in revolution, the charismatic leader who suddenly fell from the sky. What really happened in Mbuzini? Who knew too much? Who profited from his death? Questions that remain unanswered, but which the people answered long ago.

And what about André Matsangaíssa and Afonso Dhlakama? They were adversaries, yes, but even they did not escape. Because for absolute power, any dissenting voice is a danger. Any shadow of resistance must be crushed. Today, history repeats itself, and peace agreements are nothing more than smokescreens, designed to deceive those who still believe that dialogue is possible with those who never kept a promise.

Daviz Simango, the politician who dared to dream of an alternative, has suddenly left. Natural causes, they say. But there is something very convenient about the way opponents disappear one by one, always at the right moment, whenever their presence would become too big a thorn in the side of the system. What happens to businessmen who grow up without kneeling before the party? Suddenly, tax problems, lawsuits, relentless investigations arise. Some are forced into exile, others fall from grace, and there are those who simply vanish, leaving no trace. And what about the kidnappings? Ah, the kidnappings… People talk, they whisper in the markets, on public transport, at dinner tables. They say that the targets are not chosen at random, that there is an invisible network, that there are those who know but do not say, that there are those who give orders and pretend not to see. And how is it that the police, so efficient in crushing peaceful protests, never manage to find the real masterminds of the kidnappings?

If there is one thing that FRELIMO does well, it is sweeping dirt under the carpet. The problem is that the carpet is already too full, and the smell of rot has become impossible to ignore. The people are suspicious, yes, but they are suspicious because they have learned from pain, because history has shown them that trust is a luxury that only the naive can afford. Yes, Venâncio, the last person to trust was someone you must know. Someone who believed that, by shaking Frelimo's hand, he would be building something better for the country, for the people, for the future. He did not live to tell the tale. Not because he did not want to, but because history was taken from him, stolen in a cruel and insidious way. He, like so many before him, thought that politics could be the key to change. Frelimo, however, has always had another agenda: not that of construction, but that of destruction of all those who dare to dream.

And you still insist on working hand in hand with Frelimo, thinking that it is possible to reform it, transform it, or at least negotiate a piece of what remains of its power. Do you think that by supporting it, you will be different? You are mistaken, Venâncio. All those who, like you, thought they could play the game and get away with it, discovered too late that Frelimo does not forgive. There is no room for dissidents, for voices that challenge the status quo, for those who think they can negotiate a piece of the pie without eventually paying the price of betrayal.

You see, but you don’t see. Or, even worse, you choose not to see. Frelimo, with its mask of unity and progress, has a history of blood on its hands. It has been manipulating for decades, using institutions to crush any genuine opposition movement. The people already know the tactics: empty praise, promises of change, fake smiles. But in the end, what’s left are forgotten bodies, torn families and souls destroyed by a machine that feeds on the naivety of those who still believe in its goodness. So, Venâncio, wake up! The last person who trusted Frelimo didn’t live to tell the tale.

2025/12/3