THE DARK TALE OF JACK BANDAWE IN NDIRANDE, BLANTYRE
By Michael Martin//MALAWI
In the dense township of Ndirande on the outskirts of Blantyre, Malawi, a fear spread quietly yet relentlessly around 2008—2009.
The story centers on Jack Bandawe, widely known by the ominous alias “Nachipanti”.
Bandawe hailed from Ndirande, a community long plagued by socio economic strain, overcrowding and rumours of occult practices. In such a context, whispers of sinister acts gained traction fast.
According to Mr. Ephraim Dzinja of Goliyo, Ndirande, Bandawe was arrested for the murders of several people in Ndirande Township in 2009.
The case was sensational and chilling. Yes! Bandawe allegedly admitted that he had been paid MK 80,000 to “suck the blood” of his victims before killing them.
Locals say that this heinous event stirred a wave of panic throughout Ndirande.
Many people believed that Bandawe was part of a group who operated under hooded anonymity, at night, in minimal clothing earning them the nickname “Nachipanti” (loosely meaning “one who wears just pants”).
In September 2006 and February 2007, several grievous assaults occurred in Ndirande, involving beating and rape in which Bandawe and others were implicated.
The case revealed serious failures and delays and three of Bandawe’s alleged accomplices, Towera Chisa, Kelvin Chisa and Noel Numero were acquitted in 2010 due to lack of sufficient evidence.
In 2010, the High Court of Malawi found Bandawe guilty of murder and sentenced him to death.
For many years, Bandawe remained on death row at Zomba Maximum Prison, though no execution was carried out. Malawi had not executed a prisoner in decades.
During his incarceration, reports indicated that Bandawe’s conduct improved considerably and he showed remorse, participated in prison programmes and became relatively peaceful factors later used in his favour.
In July 2022, under a special clemency (Case No. 17 of 2022), Lazarus Chakwera, former President of Malawi, commuted Bandewe’s death sentence to life imprisonment.
The official justification cited his good behaviour and the fact that Malawi had not executed a prisoner in about 30 years so the death sentence was largely academic.
The “Nachipanti” saga is more than a criminal case and it reflects anxieties in Malawi about urban poverty, occult practices, extrajudicial fears, failures of the justice system and the debates about the death penalty.
Bandawe’s case sparked intense media coverage and public debate on how does a township respond when its very nights are haunted by tales of bloodsucking murderers? How does justice respond when evidence is weak and fear strong?
For the residents of Ndirande, the case left deep scars. Some families refused to talk. Others moved. The fear lingered long after arrests and trials ended.
Beyond Ndirande, civil society groups in Malawi used the case as a touchstone for discussing the efficacy of the death penalty, rehabilitation, and human rights.
Supporters of clemency argued that life imprisonment is both humane and sufficient; critics argued that atrocities like this deserve the ultimate penalty. Bandawe’s commutation added weight to that discussion.
The tribunal’s delay, the acquittal of some accused and lingering rumors kept the case alive in public memory. Some elements remain murky: the exact number of victims, full details of the group, the role of superstition vs criminality.
For legal scholars, Bandawe’s change in prison behaviour raises questions about whether even those sentenced to death can reform and how the prisons system handles such conversions.
Ultimately, the “Nachipanti” episode is a haunting chapter in our history rooted in urban hardship, fear of the unknown, the intersection of folklore and crime and the long shadows cast by a man whose name still sends tremors through Ndirande’s alleys.
