Miracle fail to save prophet

Bushiri miracle tested: When the courtroom becomes the pulpit

By Kondwani Nyond

It's been nearly five years since Bushiri and his wife, Mary, dramatically fled South Africa while out on bail, escaping fraud and money laundering charges faster than you can say “miracle money.”

Yet the question many Malawians and South Africans keep asking is: Where, exactly, does a miracle begin, and more crucially, where does it end?

At a recent public lecture at the Malawi University, South African politician and former Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) member Mbuyiseni Ndlozi reignited the debate.

 “Religious or not, if they are criminal, let them face justice. No one should be shielded,” he said.

The room split into two. 

Some students broke into applause. Others booed as if casting out a demon. 

A few chanted  with "Major 1 for Life."

Because, as always with Bushiri, there are two congregations: the faithful and the frustrated.

However,at one time   Bushiri walked on air, at least according to a viral video and the unwavering faith of his followers. 

In another miraculous display, he reportedly claimed to have the ability of resurrecting a dead car with no engine and brought fridges back to life.

To his flock, these spectacles were not just impressive but evidence of a man in direct conversation with heaven.

 To his followers, the prophet is not just a preacher  but someone with  divine technician, spiritual mechanic, and celestial repairman.

But now, faced with legal battles and extradition attempts over fraud and money laundering charges, the prophet who once claimed power over life, death, and defunct fridges is no longer performing miracles in stadiums—he is performing defenses in court.

Commenting on the Facebook page, Clifford Sikwese, a third-year theology student who clearly might not be drinking the anointing water asked: “Why is the Prophet afraid of death? Why not face it with the same miracles and anointing water he’s been encouraging his followers to trust in?”

 "Instead of commanding angels, he now commands lawyers. Instead of laying hands on the sick, he files motions and appeals. The same man who once dared skeptics to question his supernatural gifts now leans on technicalities and constitutional protections."

However, some of his followers still chant, “Touch not my anointed,” as he walks into the courtroom, but even they must wonder—why doesn’t the man who walked on air simply walk out of this legal mess.

The same God who breathed life into broken compressors and hollow engines seems oddly silent in the face of subpoenas and court orders. 

It’s almost as if, when the miracles stop working, the court becomes the last refuge—even for the anointed.