When I attended Robert Blake Secondary School in Dowa during the late 1970s, I was taken aback to learn that nearly half the student body came from northern Malawi. This struck me as noteworthy at the time. Then, a few years ago, I came across a blog by someone from outside the country claiming that Northerners were more intelligent than other Malawians. I found that view rather unconvincing.
I do not subscribe to the idea that intelligence is the exclusive domain of any one region, be it in Malawi or indeed anywhere else in the world. Should IQ tests be administered across various districts throughout the country and the resultant data meticulously plotted on graphs, each area would almost certainly exhibit what statisticians refer to as a normal distribution. This would manifest as a small number of exceptionally bright individuals at one end of the spectrum, a similarly limited group facing intellectual challenges at the other, and the substantial majority clustered comfortably in the middle range. Such a pattern is a statistical commonplace, illustrating how human cognitive abilities are distributed relatively evenly across populations, shaped far more by access to opportunities, nurturing environments, and socio-economic factors than by mere geographical location.
From my own observations and experiences, the comparatively lower school attendance rates in the central and southern regions of Malawi can be largely attributed to fathers who remain notably absent from their children’s daily lives, a situation deeply intertwined with the prevalent matrilineal family structures in those areas. Under this traditional system, children are regarded as belonging firmly to the mother’s clan, placing the primary responsibility for their welfare squarely on the shoulders of their maternal uncles. Fathers, whether aware of this on a conscious level or not, internalise the reality that their offspring form part of the uncles’ mbumba—the extended clan network. Consequently, in the event of a divorce or separation, custody defaults unequivocally to the mother’s side, further reinforcing this separation.
As a direct consequence, many fathers operating within a strictly matrilineal framework refrain from taking an active role in promoting or ensuring their children’s school attendance. They often lack detailed knowledge of their children’s day-to-day activities, such as what they learn in class or even whether they attend school regularly, viewing such matters as the uncles’ duty rather than their own. Of course, exceptions to this pattern do exist, as one might expect in any broad societal observation. There are commendable instances of men who rise above these cultural constraints, exerting influence to guide their children successfully through secondary school and, in some cases, all the way to university. However, such determined individuals remain uncommon, particularly in areas where matrilineal customs are observed with the utmost stringency.
This challenge does not stop with the fathers; it extends equally to the maternal uncles, who seldom reside in proximity to—or even in the same household as—their nephews and nieces. Physical distance frequently separates them, whether across villages, districts, or broader regions, and, unlike the direct father-child relationship elsewhere, uncles and their charges do not share a common surname. These practical barriers, combined with other relational dynamics, render sustained and meaningful involvement exceedingly difficult, offering uncles few compelling incentives to invest fully in the children’s upbringing and education.
By way of contrast, in the patrilineal societies of northern Malawi, fathers exercise direct and unambiguous responsibility over their children, who bear their name and are integrated into their paternal lineage by custom. This arrangement compels a father to advocate strongly for his children’s education, driven by the desire to evade the stigma of failure and to bask in the acclaim of success. Community members might inquire, “Whose child is that excelling so admirably?” allowing the father to claim rightful pride, while poor performance reflects squarely back on him alone, not on some remote relative, thereby fostering a powerful motivation for consistent paternal engagement.
Why do mothers not fill this role in matrilineal systems as fathers do elsewhere? Mothers could, with support, take this important role, but custom places men—uncles, not mothers—in charge. Many mothers, raised without schooling themselves due to absent fathers, cannot guide their children in educational matters. This cycle continues, though exceptions exist.
I do not mean to criticise matrilineal ways outright; they serve a purpose. Only mothers know paternity for certain, unlike fathers, who assume it. Paternal inheritance risks property going to the wrong heir; matrilineal inheritance ensures it does not.
Still, challenges arise, as noted. The system needs adjustment to address them. Government action is needed—perhaps incentives or rules. In the worst cases, keeping children from school could be treated as an offence.