By Chiti Manga
By any measure, the Catholic Church in Zambia occupies a moral high ground in public life. Its bishops speak boldly on governance, corruption, and social justice, often reminding politicians that leadership demands transparency and accountability.
It is precisely for this reason that the continued silence surrounding Archbishop of Lusaka Alick Banda has unsettled many citizens, Catholics and non-Catholics alike. 
In recent days, some members of the Zambia Conference of Catholic Bishops (ZCCB) have issued statements expressing unwavering solidarity with Archbishop Banda and the Catholic faithful, citing what they describe as sustained attacks on the Church’s mission and leadership. Yet conspicuously absent from these statements is any comment on the central issue troubling the public: how a Toyota Hilux, property of the Government of the Republic of Zambia, allegedly left the Zambia Revenue Authority (ZRA) yard under dubious circumstances and ended up in the possession of a senior cleric who was not a ZRA employee.
The silence on this specific matter is striking. When the government vehicle entered the vineyard, the saints were quiet. Now that law enforcement agencies want to inquire how that vehicle entered the vineyard, some voices within the Church are warning that a “boar has entered the vineyard.” The metaphor is powerful, but it risks diverting attention from a simple, legitimate question that any ordinary citizen would be expected to answer.
The matter has been further complicated by the testimony of Mulopa Kaunda, a man who says he has suffered more than four years of public ridicule for allegedly dragging a high-ranking Catholic priest into a dirty deal. In an exclusive account, Kaunda insists he has never seen or touched the vehicle ZRA claims he bought from the institution and sold to Archbishop Banda. He alleges that fraudulent receipts and documents were generated in his name by a named supervisor as part of a scheme to facilitate the illegal disposal of government vehicles from ZRA.
Since 2022, law enforcement agencies have been investigating cases of abuse of office among ZRA employees and the illegal possession of proceeds of crime involving private beneficiaries.
These are not matters invented by critics of the Church; they are active investigations by state institutions. Against this background, the decision by Archbishop Banda to remain silent after being summoned by the Drug Enforcement Commission (DEC) has inevitably fuelled public speculation.
To be fair, silence does not automatically equal guilt. Legally and psychologically, there are many reasons why an individual may choose not to speak. The right to remain silent is a fundamental protection in many legal systems, designed to avoid self-incrimination and to ensure that one does not say something that could later be misinterpreted.
Lawyers often advise clients to keep quiet while investigations are ongoing, precisely to control the narrative and protect their rights.
However, Archbishop Banda is not just any private citizen. He is a moral leader whose institution routinely calls on others to explain themselves, to submit to scrutiny, and to do the right thing even when it is uncomfortable. That elevated moral position changes public expectations.
When a Church that preaches transparency appears evasive, the dissonance becomes impossible to ignore.This is the heart of the argument advanced by Citizens First leader Harry Kalaba, who has openly questioned the meaning of solidarity in this case. Kalaba has stated that his absence from the DEC was deliberate and rooted in his personal principle of not siding with what he considers wrong. He has asked a question many Zambians are now asking: How does a ZRA vehicle find itself in the possession of someone who was not a ZRA employee?
Genuine solidarity is anchored in truth, accountability, and justice. Offering solidarity to someone who cannot, or will not, defend himself becomes morally complicated, especially when unresolved facts continue to emerge.
The DEC’s move to formally warn and caution Archbishop Banda in connection with a stolen motor vehicle and alleged bags of money has only intensified public concern. These are serious allegations, and they demand clarity, not clerical rhetoric.
Ultimately, Archbishop Banda’s silence may be legally prudent, but morally and socially, it is costly. The longer the quiet persists, the more space is created for suspicion, rumour, and doubt. For a church that prides itself on being the conscience of the nation, this is a dangerous place to be.Zambians are not asking for theatrics or hostility toward the clergy. They are asking for the same standard the Church demands of others: an honest account. Until that happens, the silence in the vineyard will continue to sound less like dignity and more like something carefully hidden among the vines.
