In this special report, Winnie Luwembe shines a light on a critical issue affecting thousands of refugee children in Malawi. 

These young individuals face uncertainty about their nationality and future, as despite being raised in Malawi, they're denied basic rights and opportunities available to citizens. 

The story of Joy, a 22-year-old of Rwandan descent born in Dzaleka Refugee Camp, and Mireilla's struggles 16 years ago, highlight the ongoing challenges these children face. 

Winnie explores the complexities of Malawi's nationality laws and the potential benefits of change, which could unlock the potential of these children to contribute to Malawi's development."

In Malawi, one is considered a citizen either by birth, descent, naturalization, registration, or conferment. 

As a citizen, one enjoys different rights, such as having a National Identification Card, the right to contest for a political position, the right to vote, and secure government-funded education, among many other benefits. This is not the case with non-citizens, especially refugees.

Malawi started receiving refugees as early as the 1980s and 90s, with well over a million Mozambican refugees. 

This is believed to have forced a rushed-process for Malawi to ratify the relevant international refugee instruments and draft the Refugee Act of 1989. 

More attention was paid to the status of refugees when more of them trekked in from the Great Lakes region and the Horn of Africa. 

In 1994, Malawi established Dzaleka camp, the main residence for asylum seekers.

“As parents, we are not happy, thinking about the hopeless future of our children, since they are not accepted in the country where we came from [Rwanda]; even here, the country they were born in. It’s really sad,” Tina, Joy’s auntie, laments.

Joy was born to refugees’ parents in Malawi, so too are her cousins and many others. These are almost stateless children because the laws of Malawi are vague on their status.

Currently, there are over 20,000 children born to refugees in Malawi whose nationality is unclear; their hope for nationality is in vain. 

Despite being born in Malawi and staying here for most of their lives, these refugees' children are not considered Malawian, as they are denied most of the rights accorded to citizens.

Joseph Chauwa is the spokesperson in the Ministry of Homeland Security.

“Citizenship is conferred by the minister. In case of the citizenship by registration or naturalisation, the person should migrate from legal permanent resident to citizenship, but in terms of the legal permits, refugees’ status is not recognised as one, so the current citizenship law does not allow issuing of citizenship to someone who is recognised as a refugee in Malawi,” he says.

The 22-year-old woman, whom we call Joy, was born in Dzaleka camp in Dowa district. Her parents told her that they came from Rwanda and have stayed in Malawi for about 28 years. 

She recalls failing to access university education despite securing good grades in the Malawi School Certificate of Education because she is considered a refugee.

“I did my secondary school up to Form Four, I passed with good grades but I could not go to university because of my status. As it is, I cannot even access government scholarships, like other Malawian students, but I really wanted to pursue further studies so that I could be able to stand on my own and help my sick mother access good health care,” she says.

To her, she thinks she is stateless, as she is not considered a national here in Malawi, nor in her parents' home country, Rwanda. 

This, according to her, affects her life, as she is denied various human rights.

She says: “If I am asked who I am, I don’t give a proper answer because I am not accepted in my parents’ home country. Even here, the country I was born in, I am stateless—and this affects me a lot, as I am denied different opportunities.”

Joy's story is not far from that of a 24-year-old young man we named James. He was born in Malawi, but unfortunately, all his parents are dead. 

All that he has now are just memories of what they told him about their escape from the Democratic Republic of Congo, with him as their only child. He was left to fend for himself at the age of 17.

He laments: “I’ve grown up in this camp. I went to school up to Form One, but I dropped out after my mother passed away. I was her only child, and after she died, I was left alone at home. My father had died earlier in the DRC.

Now I work as a builder, dig pit latrines, and take on other piecework just to survive. Wherever I go, people ask if I have an identity card. The only card I have is a refugee card—so I’m called a refugee everywhere I go.”

Zodiak first broke the story of the status of refugee children in Malawi in 2009 with the story of Mireilla Twayigira. In 2009, despite scoring good grades in the MSCE examinations, she could not be selected to local universities because of her status.

“She said: “When the conflict started in Rwanda, I lost my father. We buried him in our backyard before fleeing the country, running for our lives. We moved through different refugee camps until my grandfather heard about Dzaleka Refugee Camp in Malawi—he’d heard it had a better school. That’s when we left Maheba Camp in Zambia and headed to Malawi.

It was a long journey for a young child of about five years. I was malnourished and exhausted after walking all the way from Rwanda to Malawi.”

Mireilla is now a highly qualified medical doctor and a passionate advocate for refugee education. Her journey took a transformative turn when her story came to light, earning her an international scholarship through the Jesuit Refugee Service’s Refugee Education program to study in the United States.

Despite evidence from Mireilla's story that if well-utilized, refugees can help boost the country's socio-economic development, little has changed 16 years down the line.

“As human beings, we all share troubles. We all face hardships and moments of joy—no one is immune to difficult times. That’s life, right? And when you're struggling, you want someone to support you. We all share that need. So, we should ask ourselves: If it were me, how would I want others to help me? Because everyone goes through hard times,” says Mireille.    

Joy’s auntie, Tina — not her real name herself — came to Malawi as a young girl. Now a grown woman with three children, she faces a painful reality: her children are not considered Malawian, even though they have no other place to call home.

“It hurts me,” she says. “My children are called refugees in the country they were born in. No one knows them in the country I came from, and they wouldn’t be accepted there. I feel sorry for them because they don’t have a future.”

Those refugee children born in Malawi in 1994, when Malawi took in more asylum seekers, are now 30-year-old adults working in different sectors, benefiting the country with their skills and expertise.

“Most of the youth in this camp are doing businesses, like farming, carpentry, building; operating hair salons, barbershops and more, only a few are working in the other sectors,” Tina adds.

Spokesperson for the refugee rights organization, INUA Advocacy, Brenda Twea, says the 1989 Refugee Act contradicts Article 34 of the 1951 international convention on refugees, to which Malawi is a signatory. 

This convention gives refugees fundamental rights to education, work, and healthcare, among many other rights, and encourages states to facilitate assimilation, expedite naturalization proceedings, and reduce costs associated with acquiring nationality.

Twea said: “The 1989 Refugee Act, which is still in force in Malawi, is silent on long-term integration. It makes no provision for refugees to apply for citizenship, which directly contradicts Article 34 of the 1951 Refugee Convention. That article calls on signatory states—including Malawi—to facilitate the assimilation and naturalisation of refugees.

Despite this, refugees born in Malawi are not considered eligible under the Citizenship Act, even if they’ve never known any other country. This denies them fundamental rights, including legal identity.”

The current situation of nationality for children born to refugees in Malawi is controversial, as, according to the Malawi Law Society Vice President, McHarven Ngwata, Section 18 of the country's Citizenship Act gives provision for stateless people to apply for citizenship if they qualify.

But the 1989 Refugee Act seems to be a stumbling block that needs review to fit with the practicality on the ground.

He says: “The Refugees Act is a legal framework that was enacted a long time ago, and since then, many things have changed. I think it’s high time we revisit these laws to assess whether we should continue maintaining certain reservations—both in the Refugees Act and the Citizenship Act. It’s worth asking whether some of these provisions still serve us today.”

The law and policy custodian of the matter at hand is the Ministry of Homeland Security at Capital Hill in Lilongwe.

Following our visit to Dzaleka Refugee Camp, we returned to the Ministry of Homeland Security to ask spokesperson Joseph Chauwa what is being done to address the legal barriers facing refugee children.

“Citizenship is conferred by the Minister,” Chauwa explained. “In cases of citizenship by registration or naturalisation, the individual must migrate from a legal permit to citizenship. But under the current law, refugee status is not recognised as a legal permit. So the Citizenship Act does not allow for the issuing of citizenship to someone who is recognised as a refugee.”

Sixteen years after Mireille’s story captured global attention, Malawi still appears unprepared to embrace the role refugee children can play in national development.

The status quo shows that refugee children have a long way to go to find justice, as outlined in the 1951 Refugee Convention.

In the meantime, these stateless children linger — carrying voices of concern and hope.

Mireille says: “I advocate for refugee education after seeing what it has done for me. I believe I’m living proof of what some people only read in research papers about the untapped potential of refugee children.

“If they’re given a chance to excel, education doesn’t just benefit the individual—it benefits the host country too, whether they’re resettled or integrated. These are the durable solutions for refugees. Education gives them self-reliance, rather than depending on humanitarian aid.”

Malawi is not only flouting its international commitments—it is also losing out on the potential that children born to refugees can offer in socio-economic development, if the stories of Dzaleka’s children who have lived to serve the nation are anything to go by.

The 1989 Malawi Refugee Act is outdated in the context of modern globalization and integration. It fails to reflect the realities of long-term displacement and the aspirations of refugee children who have known no other home.

There is a local adage that says, “Mwana wa mnzako ndi wako yemwe, ukachenjera manja udya naye,” loosely translated as “A child of your friend is like your own; if you take care of them, you may benefit from them in the future.”

It’s time Malawi took that wisdom to heart.