We are a product of design, planning, and ingenuity

One of the enduring pleasures of growing up in an African society is the opportunity to participate in communal music-making. Long before radios, televisions, and mobile phones became commonplace, singing provided both entertainment and companionship. It emerged naturally from everyday life and accompanied people through the ordinary routines of the day. Men sang while cultivating their fields, women sang while pounding maize or preparing meals, and children sang as they played. Music was not reserved for special occasions; it was woven into the fabric of daily existence. Only hunting tended to be exempt, for singing would have frightened away the very animals being sought.

As a boy growing up at Nkhoma Mission, I enjoyed many such moments. Together with other boys, I participated in countless youthful activities that were often accompanied by cheerful singing. Although life at the mission differed in some respects from life in the surrounding villages, music was never far away. On bright moonlit nights, songs from neighbouring villages would float across the countryside and break the stillness of the evening. Those distant voices carried a sense of community and belonging that remains vivid in my memory even today.

Among the many folk songs that I learnt during those years was one that particularly captured the imagination of children. It went: Azungu nzeru, anapanga ndege; si kanthu kena, ndi nzeru zawo. Roughly translated, it means: “The white man is so intelligent that he succeeded in making an aeroplane; this achievement is due to nothing other than his intelligence.”

Whenever we heard the unmistakable buzz of an aircraft passing overhead, our eyes would immediately turn skywards in search of it. Aeroplanes were still a novelty in those days, especially for children. Their appearance inspired awe, and it was not unusual for us to recall, or even sing, the familiar tune as we watched them disappear into the distance.

At the time, I regarded the song simply as an amusing piece of village wisdom. Like many children, I sang the words without giving much thought to their meaning. Yet as the years passed, I developed a habit of paying closer attention to song lyrics. Songs often contain insights that are easy to overlook when one is young. What once seems like a simple melody can later reveal a profound observation about life, society, or human nature.

The aeroplane song is a good example. The observant Malawian who encountered an aircraft soaring across the sky as a giant bird arrived almost instinctively at two conclusions. First, the machine had been made. Second, the one who made it must have been intelligent. There appeared to be no other reasonable explanation. The aeroplane was clearly a product of design, planning, and ingenuity.

What is interesting is that an aeroplane merely imitates a bird. Indeed, the Chichewa word for aeroplane, ndege, comes from Swahili, where it originally means “bird”. Yet many people readily acknowledge that an aeroplane is the work of an intelligent designer while seldom making the same conclusion about a bird. The bird flew long before the first aircraft left the ground. It possesses abilities that engineers have spent generations studying and attempting to replicate.

What is interesting is that an aeroplane merely imitates a bird. Indeed, the Chichewa word for aeroplane, ndege, comes from Swahili, where it originally means “bird”. Yet many people readily acknowledge that an aeroplane is the work of an intelligent designer while seldom asking the same question about a bird itself. The bird was flying long before the first aircraft left the ground. It possesses abilities that engineers have spent generations studying and attempting to replicate.

My studies in biology deepened this reflection. At university, I became increasingly aware of the astonishing complexity of living organisms. The human body alone is a marvel of organisation. From its visible structures to the microscopic world of cells and the intricate mechanisms operating within them, every component performs specialised functions with remarkable precision. Most of these processes occur without our awareness, yet they sustain life.

The same principle applies throughout nature. Whether one considers the flight of birds, the workings of the human brain or the delicate balance of ecosystems, one encounters levels of sophistication that far exceed anything humanity has yet created. Indeed, it is the extraordinary capacity of the human brain that enables people to design aeroplanes, computers and artificial intelligence. Yet the brain itself remains more complex than any machine it has produced.

Whenever I reflect on these realities, I find myself returning to the simple logic contained in that childhood song. The evidence of design in the natural world points beyond itself to a supreme intelligence.

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