Images of Zambia from a
Colorado Chindelli
By John Ord May 2013
In December 2012, I advised my daughter
Regina (Gina) and her husband Scott that I was researching what would be
involved in me visiting them in Zambia during their last service year in the Peace
Corps. Five months later I was
descending into Livingstone Zambia after a 10,000 mile flight from Denver to
NYC to Johannesburg.
During the descent, my first of many images of Zambia was of a white
cloud of smoke in the distance, seemingly from a brush fire. I was wrong. In fact it was the opposite of smoke. Zambia was going to be a very
interesting place.
First Stop - Livingstone
I chose Livingstone to fly into
due to its location to Victoria Falls, a sight I most wanted to see. I expected Livingstone to be quaint and
orderly
as its British moniker might suggest.
Not the case. Our accommodations,
the Stonehouse Lodge described on the web as “elegant and charming“ was
anything but. Gina found it
online and was attracted to its swimming pool (not well maintained) and price
(about $55 per night including breakfast). What it proved to be was rustic, not elegant, but all in all
quite acceptable. We did share bathrooms
with other rooms but as we were there in the off season, we had it to ourselves.
As I had arrived several hours
before Gina, I walked to the central business district, about a mile from the
lodge. First impression, so many
people walking! Even though the
omnipresent blue Toyota cabs prowled the street with a quick honk to announce
their availability, the local population seemed content with walking to the
marketplace. I felt safe with so
many fellow pedestrians, even thought I was the only white face on the walking
paths. Speaking of which: proper
sidewalks in Livingston, as I was to find elsewhere in Zambia, are a rare public
accommodation. At best they are
paths next to the roadway that can scare the bejevies out of you as cars pass
by within inches of you. This is
especially the case if you are a Yank trying to get used to drivers driving on
the wrong side of the streets.
When sidewalks are present, they are in disrepair and likely to be next
to large, open concrete drainage ditches with no protective railings.
As Gina was arriving from Lusaka
by bus, I was hoping to meet her at the bus station. Only problem was, there is no real bus station. There exists only a large parking area
in the market place where bus tickets are bought and sold by various bus
companies from several shacks.
When I tried to inquire about the time the bus from Lusaka might arrive,
no one could offer a clue. The
typical response was “when it gets here.”
Really helpful. I ended up
meeting Gina at our lodge instead.
Encouraging news though: they are building some sort of bus terminal on
the edge of the downtown district.
It is hoped it will be done in time for a United Nations tourism
conference in Livingston in August.
Good luck with that as only a cleared section of land designated the
site at the time of my visit.
Another sensory image of
Livingston is the constant smell of soot in the air, a form of perpetual
pollution. At first I thought it
was due to the possible brush fire I had seen on my decent into
Livingstone. But Gina told me it
was due to the burning of wood by households for cooking, as well as trash for
lack of local collection services.
I had thought urban areas had moved past that mode of fuel and trash disposal. Not in the towns of Zambia as the smell
was prevalent in other cities and towns as well. There did not seem to be any great concern about the carbon
footprint being generated. I guess
there are higher priorities such as a new bus terminal.
Another observation from
Livingstone albeit somewhat sexist: for the most
part the women are beautiful. Most
all are trim and well-proportioned and appear to take pride in their
appearance. Most all have very
stylish hairdos which enhance their attractiveness. When I mentioned this to Gina, she enlightened, “Don’t be fooled. None of those hairdos are
real.” Evidently most all the
women wear wigs, false hair extensions or “weaves” in their hair to obtain a
more “Western” look that they could not obtain with their natural hair. My advice: Ladies of Zambia. You are
beautiful! Do what you can with
your natural hair and you will still be beautiful. The silly false hair enhancements are really not needed. But I’m a Chindelli (white guy). I doubt they will take heed. The Zambian men on the other hand, have
only one hair style seemingly without exception. Buzz cut. No
fuss, no muss.
Where the Wild Things Are
It would be a travesty for any
visitor to central Africa not to take the time to go on Safari. From Livingstone, that meant Chobe
National Park, about an hour’s drive into neighboring Botswana (requires an exit
visa). We hooked up with one of
the local outfitters for an overnight stay in the Park. The outfitter picks you up at
your lodge and takes it from there.
Cost $215.00 per person. A
bargain at twice the price.
Our first outing was a two hour boat
cruise up the Zambezi River. The
river was at its fullest as the wet season was just ending. Wildlife (elephants, cape buffalo,
hippos, water fowl and occasional baby crocodile) was spotted along the way in
a surreal setting. Next came the
land excursion that provided additional vantage points for wildlife. As we elected the overnight Safari, we
were treated to the late afternoon excursion. This is when much of the wildlife emerges from their daytime
lairs that offer protection from the day’s heat. In the cool of the late afternoon, we were able to witness
the emerging activity of yet more elephants, warthogs, impalas, baboons, and an
especially rare sight, lions. It
would be an injustice for me to try and describe the scene in narrative, so
hopefully the accompanying photos will be worth at least the proverbial
thousand words.
However, there is one sighting
that I will try to describe as it struck me to be almost spiritual. We witnessed a tower (herd) of giraffes
moving across the landscape in the early evening. The image of a tower of giraffes in motion at full gallop is
ethereal. The bottom half of
the herd is an awkward, almost clumsy movement of unequal sized legs bouncing
along the terrain, much like droplets on a hot skillet. At the same time, the upper body and
necks of the herd moved gracefully and rhythmically, like a grove of palm trees
waving in a breeze. Only the grove
of heads was traversing the landscape like an armada of ships at full
sail. A sight that will never be
captured in even the most endowed zoos.
How the clunky motion of the legs could be connected to the gracefulness
of the body and neck can only be answered by means of Creative Genius.
After a traditional Zambian meal
of nshima, greens, chicken curry and pudding the human herd slept in tents at
night. I was awakened twice in the
night. Once when the surrounding bush
seemed to come alive with every animal and bird roaring, growling or chirping
in some kind of primeval competition.
It reminded me of the verse in Where
the Wild Things Are by Maurice
Sedak: “And
the wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth
and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws.” I was glad I was safe amongst my human herd.
Later in the night I awoke
again. Only this time it was to eerie,
complete silence. Nothing. No birds chirping. No animal howling. No crickets. No wind in the trees.
Absolute quiet. The world
was at peace.
The next morning, after a brief
breakfast, we headed out of Chobe National Park. We saw an occasional wildlife sighting, but not nearly as
often as the evening occurrences.
Then we exited the Park, crossed the Zambezi, left Botswana and returned
back to the land where the wild things no longer live. Such a pity.
And the Flood Gates of Heaven Opened…
As a child at Evergreen Junior
High, I remember studying about Africa and the Livingstone expedition. What I retained most from the lesson
was his discovery in 1855 of the huge waterfall on the Zambezi River called Mosi-oa-Tunya by the natives. Livingstone later named them Victoria
Falls after the then reigning queen of Britain. Mr. Latham, our 9th grade geography instructor
must have done an exemplary job of describing the falls because from that day
forward, I thought that if I ever get a chance I would visit them. That day came on my third day in
Zambia. I was not
disappointed. In fact, it exceeded
my childhood imaginings by a factor of 10. As Victoria Falls has been named one of the Seven Natural
Wonders of the World, there is little I can add to describe the beauty and
grandeur of the Falls that others have not.
At the time Gina and I visited
the Falls, it was at the high water mark, coming off the wet season. As such the volume of flowing water was
at its greatest. This is
both good news and bad news for the traveler. Good news: the
power and force of the cascading water is at its fullest. The noise is deafening. You can hear it within a mile of the Falls. Bad news: you can’t see it.
The volume and vertical fall of water is so great that a lot of it
vaporizes before it hits the bottom.
This creates a mist that forms a curtain between the viewing side and
the actual falls. The mist
continues to rise hundreds of feet above the rim of the falls and can be seen
10 to 15 miles away. That is why
the natives called it Mosi-oa-Tunya – the
Smoke that Thunders. It
has been known to confuse some first time visitors who descend into Livingstone
by air and mistake it for smoke from a brush fire.
Note of advice to travelers to
the falls: do not pay for the various rain gear and ponchos you can obtain at
the entrance to protect you from the rain-like mist. The complete drenching from the mist (The Zambezi baptism) is
part of the total experience. The
warm African sun will dry you out in no time. The viewing trail goes for about a mile. Even when the curtain of mist is present,
every so often it does part to reveal the magnificent falls. The only way I can describe it is as
though the flood gates of heaven have been opened as the water appears to be
gushing straight out of the sky.
Put Victoria Falls on your bucket list. You won’t regret it.
In case you are wondering how
Victoria Falls compares with our Niagara Falls, the numbers are below.
Epitome of British Influence – High Tea
As long as you have now included
Victoria Falls on your bucket list and committed to the time and expense to
make it happen, you might as well include high tea at the Royal Livingstone
Lodge on your list also. The Lodge
is within walking distance or a short cab ride from the Falls so you can check
off two bucket items on the same day.
The Lodge, a five star resort situated on the Zambezi River right before
it cascades down the falls, is a lasting legacy to proper British eloquence and
snobbery. The grounds include a
private game reserve featuring giraffes and zebras without the normal zoo enclosures. Our budget did not allow us to stay at
the lodge, but we did indulge in their afternoon high tea offering. For a cost of $20 each we were treated
to the most elegant tea setting imaginable with your choice of over 20 blends
of tea. In addition, you are
offered the most exquisite display of finger sandwiches and desserts you could
ever desire. Come hungry and with
a sweet tooth because you can visit the dessert bar as many times as you
like. And the service is something
inspired by British royalty. We
were there in the off season, so there was no wait.
Please don’t tell the management,
but Gina took the opportunity to take a dip in their magnificent pool
afterward. I retired to the
veranda overlooking the river where Gina and I later enjoyed cocktails while
watching the sun sink into the mighty Zambezi.
Not a bad day for the price of a
movie and dinner back in the States.
Journey to Mwinilunga
Livingstone was a great place to
begin my Zambian adventure. But
the real objective was to visit Gina’s and Scott’s assigned Peace Corps village
in the upper Northwest Province near the town of Mwinilunga, some 500 miles
from Livingstone. We went via
Lusaka as I wanted to go to the capital and largest city of Zambia.
Lusaka – And the most impressive building is…?
We took the bus from Livingstone
to Lusaka, stopping overnight in Choma about half way so Gina could visit a
Peace Corps center there. As
far as Lusaka goes, there is not much good I can say about the city. Certainly not a bucket list destination
unless you like bustling, crowed, dirty, confusing and generally unremarkable
venues. However, it did offer one
amenity that I did not see anywhere else in Zambia: a Western style enclosed
shopping mall. Actually three of them. It was obvious that they catered to the
one-percenters that benefit from a bloated foreign aid based government and
large Non-Government Organizations (NGO) offering massive relief programs. Evidently one of the malls is dubbed
the “Mall that AIDS Built” by local cynics as it patronized primarily by
employees of foreign-funded NGO’s supporting massive AIDS programs centered in
the city. However, the malls did
provide a nice respite from the otherwise chaotic street vendor and shanty marketplaces
prevalent in Zambia’s towns and cities. That is where we met up with Gina’s
husband Scott who was training new Peace Corps recruits in a nearby town.
There was one notable building in
the city that seemed to dominate the skyline as it was situated on a rise that
could be seen from most parts of the city. The building was massive in size and dwarfed those around
it. Although the architecture was unremarkable, it was formidable and hinted of
a fortress. It was obviously an
important government complex. Gina
confirmed as much when I asked her what it was. She informed me it was the United States Embassy.
Chikmubuso – An Oasis of Hope
Lusaka did provide one interesting
and rewarding side trip. A cohort
from my employment put us in contact with an organization that her mother had
founded that operated in one of the slum areas of Lusaka. Even though our taxi driver assured us
he knew where it was (they all said that) he did not have a clue. We relied on the directions of our
contacts which lead us on a circuitous trip to one of the most impoverished
neighborhoods I have ever seen. I
won’t describe it here. Suffice it
to say it left me with a sinking feeling that humanity had failed this
place. In the middle of this place
was a compound of buildings known as Chikmubuso. This particular Sunday, they were having an open house to
show guests what they had accomplished and the clients they served. Gina, Scott and I were honored to be
guests on that day.
Chikmubuso is a word that means
remembrance. Remembrance of those
who suffer and die from AIDS and our duty to do for others. The center offers support for widows,
orphans and grandmothers of those affected by AIDS. Linda Wilkinson, the founder of Chikmubuso aims to support
the children and women who are left behind, unable to fend for themselves. 73 widows and 350 children are served
by the center by offering work programs and schooling. The women learn to crochet handbags
from used plastic bags and other recycled materials. The bags are sold in various marketplaces and at fundraisers
in the USA and elsewhere. On
our visit, we met the women who were proud of their new found abilities and a
chance to begin life anew.
Humanity was alive in this
neighborhood as personified in the efforts of Linda and her staff. Chikmubuso may mean “Remembrance” in
the local language. But in my
estimation it means “An oasis of hope” to all those that it serves. You can learn more about this
grassroots program by visiting there website at www.chikumbuso.com.
Solwezi - The Wild West Revisited
From Lusaka, Gina and I flew the
250 miles to Solwezi, avoiding the 10 hour bus ride. Scott remained in Lusaka to continue his training of the new
Peace Corps recruits. Solwezi is near the Cooperbelt Province of Zambia. As the name implies, its main resource
is copper and related minerals.
Thanks to the Chinese’s investment in the extraction industry in Africa,
Solwezi has become a boomtown. Think
Sacramento during the Gold Rush or Dodge City KS during the 1870’s. Mining trucks and mine workers clog the
main road through the town. Dust,
noise and crowds define the scene.
Infrastructure is inadequate and prices high. A certain “each person for them self” attitude exists. The one modern supermarket in town,
ShopRite is guarded at its entrance by armed guards equipped with
semi-automatic rifles. Shoplifters
beware! There is a Peace Corps
center in Solwezi a bit off the main route which offered a respite for a few
hours as we waited for our bus to journey to Mwinilunga.
Getting around – Zambian style
Now is probably a good time to
discuss the various modes of public transportation used to get around in
Zambia. There are basically seven
methods of travel.
Walking – by far the cheapest and most prevalent mode of
transportation requires only your own two feet. The general populace uses this mode more for economy than convenience
or exercise. However, the locals
can’t understand why any Chindelli (us white guys) would resort to
walking. When we asked our lodge
desk clerk in Lusaka for walking directions for the 2 kilometers to the local
Catholic Church, they frankly did not understand the question. “Why are you asking? We will get you a
taxi.” No directions were ever
given. We used an outdated map
instead which somehow got us there albeit a bit late.
Biking – Although the Peace Corps’ modus operandi for its
volunteers while on assignment, few bikes were seen in use by the locals. Zambia is not a bike friendly country
in that the major roadways do not have safe shoulders to ride on. Urban areas are just too congested with
side streets in such poor condition that bike riding is treacherous. Rural areas offer roads and
trails that require you to walk your bike as often as riding them in some
areas. However, I did see one
hardy family of three on a single bike with luggage on the back rack.
Hitching – While the literature suggests this is a normal practice,
I did not see much of it. Gina has
done it on occasion, ending up in the back of produce trucks and other
precarious vehicles. Fortunately
she didn’t suggest I try the local “experience” while visiting.
Minibus – Next to walking, this is probably the most utilized form
of public transportation in the urban areas. I am not sure how it works. Basically the drivers cram as many bodies in small mini-vans
as possible. This may be up
to 15 people in a van designed to carry eight. I have no idea how to tell which minibus is going
where. Personal space is
zero. Gina did suggest I try this
local experience. I declined. My observation of the practice and an
imagination of what it was like was all the “experience” I needed.
Taxi – Anyone who owns a beat up Toyota Corolla is in the taxi business. There are no meters, no formal rate
charges and no apparent licensing.
If you own a Corolla, you are qualified. Rates are negotiated before each trip. On one trip Gina and I took, we stopped
to pick up a driver’s friend, a spare tire and stopped to add enough gas for
the trip. The first stop for any
ride over two kilometers (about 1.2 miles) usually involves a stop at the petrol
station to purchase enough gas for the trip. The drivers seem to have petrol inventory management
perfected in a just-in-time system.
Bus – There is intercity bus transport with competing service from
three or four bus companies.
Posted time-tables are more or less guidelines when the buses arrive and
depart. It is a game of chance as
to the quality of the bus you end up on.
Some are quite modern and spacious while others are filthy with crammed
seating. You really don’t know
till it arrives. All are usually
packed full with passengers even standing for a long duration of the trip. A ticket does not guarantee you a
seat. The buses are used by the
locals to carry goods and produce between towns. Chickens, large bags of meal
and produce were all part of the cargo, both in the bus and in the cargo
holds.
The bus stops at most villages
between the major towns making for a long bus ride. However, I found these to be quite interesting as each
village offered its own slice of Zambia.
At some you could buy snacks and fresh produce right from your bus
window. These included fried
chicken, boiled peanuts, watermelon and pineapples. At one stop, five women were selling their home fried
chicken. I saw three, maybe four
takers. I am still trying to figuring
out the economics of such a trade.
There appears to be way too much supply for the demand. Economics 101 would suggest that the
supply should decrease to meet the demand. But try to tell that to the women trying to earn a few Kwacha
to support their families.
The en-route
entertainment system consists of overhead TV’s playing cheesy soap operas and
musical videos. Music ranges from
American C&W to Zam Pop (a form of gaud awful Zambian rap). The genre and volume is at the complete
discretion of the driver. What he
likes is what you hear. On the
four hour bus ride between Solwezi and Mwinilunga, his choice was the gaud
awful Zam Pop at full volume. I
could not get off that bus fast enough when we reached our destination to relieve
a splitting headache.
Plane – I did use the internal plane service ProFlight for flights
between Lusaka and Solwezi. The
equipment was a 20 passenger dual turbo-props. Service and reliability were terrific. The hour flight was about $385 round
trip. Definitely worth the price
to avoid the ten hour bus ride each way.
Local Markets – Inefficient Efficiency
Allow me to ponder here on some
observations I made on the marketplace in Zambia. With an undergraduate degree in Economics, I have always
been intrigued on how markets work and how they are subject (or should be) to the
ebbs and flows of supply and demand.
So I took an inherent interest in what I observed in the marketplaces in
Zambia and tried to make sense of them.
As near as I can tell during my brief visit there exist four consumer
markets in Zambia:
First, there are the traditional “Western” retail markets consisting
of legitimate stores with predetermined prices and properly receipted. These are many of the ShopRite grocery
stores (a South African chain) and the higher end retail malls we visited in
Lusaka. These operate much like
any retail establishment you might find in America. You choose goods, you go to the checkout, sales tax is calculated
(16% Value Added Tax (VAT) in Zambia) and the transaction is properly receipted.
Secondly, there is the government controlled market. This is where the central Zambian
government sets the price. When I
arrived in Livingstone in mid-April, the posted price of gasoline at
established petrol stations was K8.16/liter (about $6.50/gallon). This was the price no matter where I
went in Zambia. It did not change
for the full 2 ½ weeks while I was there.
During the same period in Denver, the price changed from $3.29/gal to
$3.68/gal reflecting underlying market conditions (good ol’ supply and
demand). And back in the good old
US of A the price varied form station to station, city to city and state to
state. Not so in Zambia. Some clandestine Higher Power has
determined that K8.16/liter is the defacto optimum price that should be charged
for petro and that will not change unless the Higher Power deems
otherwise. I have no idea who
absorbs the shortfall or reaps the benefit as the international price for crude
changes the price the Higher Power has to pay for the gas.
Thirdly, there is the street market so prevalent in all the towns
from Livingstone to Lusaka to Solwezi to Mwinilunga. These are where thousands of street vendors sell their goods
on the walkways or in shanty little shops covering huge shopping districts in
each town. The shops are selling
the same commodity items (fried corn, fresh vegetables, cell phones,
housewares, shoes, grains, fish) all within a few stalls and sometimes next to
each other. All transactions are strictly
cash. No VISA. No checks. No traveler’s checks (do those still exist?) Cash only, period. No receipt. No VAT collected.
Based on observed activity and
size of this type of operations, this appeared to be the largest retail
activity in Zambia. Again, Economics 101 would suggest that some form of
consolidation should take place to take advantage of some economies of
scale. But it isn’t
happening. Each vendor is content
to take his miniscule portion of a commodity and live off its merger
profit. In my mind, this creates a
very inefficient market as far as manpower to support but a very efficient
pricing mechanism as you can’t charge any more than the vendor a few stalls
down. A very inefficient,
efficient system. One that takes
more than an undergraduate degree in economics to try to understand.
It was also observed that if you
evoke the name of God in your business name, it will somehow generate some sort
of competitive advantage. That may
explain the proliferation of names such as God Promise Boutique, God’s Love
Barbershop, Father Forgive Them Motorcycle Supply, Debtor of Grace Traders,
Blessing of God Lodge and (my favorite) Man of God Investing.
Lastly, there is a system of barter that takes place in the remote
villages in the bush. It is probably not of significant aggregate value. But still a marketplace to be reckoned
with when considering the totality of the Zambian economic fabric.
Mwinilunga – Gateway to the “Real” Zambia.
The main road through the
Northwest Province brings us to Mwinilunga, the BOMA or county seat that
encompasses the remote village that Scott and Gina are assigned to by the Peace
Corps. Mwinilunga is a sleepy
little town lacking of any of the larger retail chains and is solely made up of
street vendors operating out of shanty shacks, government offices and NGO
offices. Vehicular street traffic
is all but nonexistent on the main street. You are more likely to get hit by a bicycle with no
brakes than you are a car. Electrical
power, when available is turned off at 11:00 pm and turned back on at 6:00
am. We stayed the night there
before journeying up to Gina’s village in a most quaint lodge. It was a few kilometers from town and
situated on a lush hillside along the Lunga River. A wonderful respite from the noise and bustle of the previous
stay in Lusaka. The following day
after a bit of shopping from the local vendors for provisions in the bush, we
began the trip to what the people in this area refer to as the “Real
Zambia’. An area where the Zambian
people migrated from the Congo several hundred years ago and still retain their
village way of life.
The Road to Gina's Village
Gina and Scott’s assigned village is about 18 kilometers, (10 miles) from Mwinilunga. You get there by traversing an
ill-maintained dirt road full of ruts, potholes and washouts. A taxi can make it there at low speeds
and with an astute driver. The
road there passes by perhaps a dozen such native villages, all inhabited
by people of the Lunda tribe. A
journey on the road is a journey back in time when there was no running water,
no electricity, no telephones. Each
village is comprised of between 10 and 30 brick and thatched roofed huts, each
with a detached outside cooking shelter.
Total inhabitants in each village range between 50 and 200 of which well
over half are children. Most of
the children spend the day outside waving and greeting passers-by who come by on the road by
foot, occasionally by bike and rarely by vehicle . When school is in session, they do attend. But it can be a hit and miss
proposition. The women spend their days cooking, fetching water, washing at the
stream, attending to children or visiting. The men go to the fish ponds or the fields to attend their
crops, or just hang around playing cards.
Other inhabitants of the villages include chickens, goats, sheep, pigs,
dogs, and chickens, all roaming freely without fences or enclosures. The village has a definite daily rhythm
that doesn’t vary much. One I
would get to know and appreciate in my four days of visiting in the village.
Gina and Scott’s compound
consisted of the normal two room brick and thatched roof hut and detached
cooking area. In addition, they
had a brick outhouse, shower area (using solar heated water bags) and a tool
shed that Scott built himself.
They also had a vegetable garden and chicken coop. All-in-all quite a compound. It
probably had the most amenities of any in the village due to minimum living
standards as required by the Peace Corps.
The tribe does have certain
customs such as married women should not stay in the same hut with even their
fathers. So Gina was relegated to
sleeping in a tent outside the hut during my stay. I stayed in a proper bed in the hut as Scott was still away
teaching training classes.
Mwani vudey mwani
My visiting the village proved to
be quite a novelty for the villagers. Having another Chindelli in the village,
especially the father of Gina created a lot of curiosity. Men, women, and
children all came by Gina’s hut for the express purpose of greeting me. I felt like a celebrity, enjoying my 15
minutes of fame. As few of the
natives knew little if any English, I had to learn their form of greeting. Lunda is a very hard language to
learn. It amazes me that both
Scott and Gina have learned the language well enough to converse with the
natives; a real testament to the Peace Corps’ immersion training. For me, it was a challenge to learn the
few phrases used for greetings.
The most common is “Mwani vudey mwani” (mawa- nee voo-day mawa-nee). Which means something along the lines of: “it’s my great pleasure to greet you and may you and your entire family and
all your friends always be blessed with happiness and good fortune in all that
you ever desire to do” or something to that effect. The three hundred times or so I used it
when both meeting and greeting the people, I don’t think I ever got it
right. Most every time I voiced
it, it generated laugh-out-loud responses from the children and suppressed
chuckles from the adults.
The other phrase I learned to use was “Nasakilili mwani” (na sa-kee-lil-lee mawa-nee) - thank you.
It takes a village…
There is a saying that it takes a
village to raise a child. In the
bush villages of Zambia, it might be rephrased to “the village exists to raise
children.“ Children are
everywhere. From a Western
perspective it is easy to conclude that the mothers in the villages are bearing
too many children (families with six, seven or eight children were not unusual)
at too early an age (mid-teens).
Most women of child bearing age have a child wrapped around her in the
traditional baby carrying cloth. Without
being judgmental, the result is that a large percent of the village population
are children. I was told that 90%
of the population in rural Zambia is less than 25 years old. Children can be seen and heard as you
pass the villages along the road.
Although they are poorly dressed, they seem to be genuinely happy. Whenever I brought out my camera to
take a picture, it was like a magnet and in no time ten to 15 children would
gather to have their picture taken.
They all seemed to know Gina personally. As she and I rode bikes on the connecting road, shouts of “Gina!
Gina!” would emanate from every village imploring Gina to stop and pay a
visit. The high birthrate has not
been lost on the NGO’s and government medical programs. Most center on the three big medical concerns
that center around reproduction and gender issues: HIV, spread of malaria, and
pre-natal care. There are also
gender education initiatives to empower women in making the choices that affect
their lifelong wellbeing.
What’s in a name?
For
the most part, Lundas do not decide on a name for their children until days
after the birth. This may be a
custom rooted in the old superstitions or from the fact that many pregnancies
do not go full term. Gina told me
that she has been asked on many occasions to help with the naming of the child
by the parents after the birth. I
was somewhat skeptical of this until one day a new proud father came up to Gina
in my presence and exclaimed the good news that his wife gave birth to a boy
yesterday and they are in need of a name.
Could she come up with one?
It appears she had given out previously the names of Golden (her
language teacher), Fredrick (her maternal grandfather), Philip (her brother),
John (thank you very much) and Scott (her husband). So she looked at me and asked, “Dad can you come up with a
name?” I suggested her
paternal grandfather’s name of Robert.
So right there on the spot the name was chosen after my father. So if you are ever in the Lunda village
of Kalendi and meet a Robert, you will know how his name came about. However, it may be pronounced “Obet” as
r’s are very hard to pronounce in Lunda.
Anglo names seem to be quite
popular for bush babies. During my
stay at the village, I was introduced to Beauty, Pardon, Happy, Wave, Joy,
Patron, Bright, Reagan, Obama (very popular for some reason), Steven, Mercy,
Golden, Hope, Charity (no Faith as it is too hard to pronounce the “th”)
Clifford and Gift. Go figure.
Can we talk religion?
I had several religious
experiences in Zambia. The first
was attending Sunday Mass at St. Ignatius Church in Lusaka. The service was very similar to Mass in
Denver as it was in English. We
did arrive a bit late so ended up in the choir loft. The only chair left was a plastic white patio chair that
looked inviting. There was a reason
why it was empty. When I sat down
in it, it completely collapsed sending this Chindelli sprawling to the floor
with a large crash temporary disrupting the service. When it became apparent I was all right, the locals quickly
cleared a bench for us on more stable footing. The service resumed with one red faced Chindelli in a sea of
black locals.
One of the major activities in
the bush villages is church activities.
Most of the religion is Christian based which means a lot of singing and
dancing to drums. Gina and I were
invited to one choir practice and the locals were thrilled when we joined in
with the dancing and singing. Two
nights later, in a very dark brick church (remember no electricity) the whole
congregation of the Christian Community Church (CCC) was whooping it up in the
name of Jesus. The singing was in
the Lunda language and was beautiful with full harmonic rhythm. The chanting, the drums, the moonlit
night. A purely African
experience!
There was also a Catholic service
near the village on Sunday. As no
priest was available, a local deacon said the service. It was completely in Lunda. However, when I walked in, they did
give me an English bible so I could follow the readings that were posted. They also gave me a side by side interpretation
of the Nicene Creed. I include it
below so you can see how different the two languages are.
Gina advised me ahead of time not
to be two generous with the offering as it would set a precedent for other Chindellis
who might visit in the future. So
I reduced my offering from 50 kwacha to 20 kwacha (about $4.00) on her advice. When the offering box was presented,
only I and two other local women made a contribution. The prior week’s offering was announced during the announcements. Total received: 2 kwacha ($0.40 Yes that’s 40 cents US). So even my meager 20 kwacha
donation was a windfall to the local parish. I am sure they will put it to good use.
The
service lasted the normal hour or so.
However, the announcements at the end of the service (usually a few
minute in the US) went on and on.
Apparently that is when all matters of the parish are discussed. Everything from who is bringing what at
the next social to when will a Sunday school for the children be
organized. We politely excused
ourselves after about a half an hour as the “announcements” were just getting
started.
Although witchcraft is not openly
practiced, it does raise its ugly head on occasion. When visiting with The Chief of the Lundas, he pointed out a
hut that had a hole in the exterior wall.
He explained the occupants of the house were victims of the “walking
coffin”. It appears a few months
ago, a child had died in the village.
The family wrongly felt his death was caused by a spell put on the child
by another woman in the village.
In order to seek revenge, the family rammed the coffin into the hut of
the women who allegedly cast the spell and left it there in her living
area. So beware. While in Zambia, be careful who you
rile because you may end up with a casket in your living room.
A Day with Chief Kanongesha
I was riding my borrowed bike by
myself waving to the kids in the villages when a white SUV pulled over. The driver called out to me asking who
I was as he had not seen me in the area before. I smiled and said I was visiting my daughter Gina Ord. He laughed with delight and said he
knew Gina and Scott well. As a
matter of fact he was hoping to recruit Scott to be a head tribesman. Then he introduced himself as Chief Kanongesha,
head of the Lunda tribe. He asked
how long I was staying and I told him a couple of days. He hoped we would meet again before I
left and went on his way. As I
relayed this to Gina, her eyes grew big and exclaimed “Do you know who that
was? He is the most important man in the whole Lunda tribe. I hope you treated him with respect.” I replied “I think I did.” I didn’t think much more of
the encounter.
Two days later, Gina and I were
riding our bikes to Mwinilunga when the same white SUV came by and the Chief
stopped again. Gina was as excited
as I had ever seen her. She asked
the Chief if I could have my picture taken with him. He declined saying that instead he would like to invite us
to join him for lunch at his palace on Saturday. Evidently you do not refuse any offer by the Chief. Gina immediately said we would be
available even though we had made other plans and arranged for a 10:00 am
meeting at the palace.
The Chief’s palace was 28 kilometers
(15 miles) beyond Kalendi. Our
only mode of transportation was our bikes. But you do not show up at the Chief’s palace in biking
shorts and a T-shirt. As my only
button down shirt was terribly wrinkled, it needed a good ironing. No problem. Gina directed me to the village tailor who owned a coal
heated iron. He was honored to do
it for free but Gina insisted on paying him the going rate: six fresh eggs from Gina’s chicken
coup. So the deal was struck. A
freshly ironed shirt and six fresh eggs traded hands. No credit. No
cash. No receipt. No sales tax. The ancient barter system still in practice.
You also don’t
show up at the Chief’s palace empty handed. Gina corralled her most prized Rooster, Idaho and gently put
him in a box and strapped the box to the back of her bike. Idaho would be a most fitting gift for
the Chief. And off we went on our
28 kilometer trek to have lunch with the Chief at the palace. The bike trip was as much mental as
physical due to the poor condition of the road way. It was a constant struggle to find the best track on the
road in order to avoid potholes, ruts, washouts and sand traps.
Two hours later we arrived at the
palace. The palace was not so much
a palace as a fenced compound of large thatched huts and open areas. It was well kept and had some modern conveniences
such as electricity from a generator and filtered water from an on-site
well. There was a large outside
cooking area with traditional wood burning stoves.
The Chief took us to another area
that featured a dammed river creating a beautiful lake. The dam was also used to generate
electricity for the nearby school.
The generator had recently stopped functioning and needed
replacement. After many months and
help from church missionaries a new $50,000 German generator was acquired and
installed. When I asked how it was
working, the Chief said it was not for lack of a simple electrical cable that
also needed replacing. No one new
for certain when or if a new cable would become available. So, for now the new generator was idle
for want of a relatively inexpensive cable.
We went back to the palace where
lunch was being served in the Chief’s home. The living quarters were very modest by Western
standards but royal when compared to the village abodes. The Chief changed into his ceremonial
dress and we ate in the living room.
The menu consisted of tea, boiled peanuts, fresh pumpkin, bread and
honey, hardboiled eggs and watermelon.
Gina and I had a delightful meal when the chief announced to our
surprise that we would now go to the dining room where his wife had prepared
the main courses. Evidently the afore
mentioned menu was only appetizers.
When Gina and I mentioned that we were not expecting anything additional
and were quite satisfied, the Chief politely informed us that his wife would be
offended if we did not continue with the meal. So we sat down again and enjoyed the second courses of
nshima, fish (some of the best I ever tasted), tomato sauce, garden greens,
sweet potatoes, and cassava leaves. Needless to say we were quite full when we left the table.
The Chief then took us on a tour
of the grounds showing us the various historical features there. He then took us into the presentation
hut where he sat on his throne explaining the various artifacts in the room: bows and arrows, animal skins, carvings,
a staff from Queen Victoria days.
It was as though we were on a private tour in a boutique museum. It was here that I finally had my
picture taken with Chief Kanongesha of the Lunda tribe.
Afterward he drove us half way
back to our village so we could avoid the roughest part of the road. As we waved good-by, we couldn’t help
but appreciate that we had sent a great day with the great Chief Kanongesha of
the Lunda tribe. It was an honor
and a pleasure that will be long remembered.
How are things in America?
Zambians, both rural and urban
are intrigued by America. They do
not hesitate to ask questions about America to get some firsthand knowledge
about that mysterious place half way around the world.
Questions that I was asked about
America include:
How are things in America? This was asked most often. I was never quite sure how to respond
to it.
Is Colorado Republican or Democrat? This was asked by a taxi driver in Livingstone
who obviously had more interest in American politics than his own.
Do you like Obama? Tough question to answer as Zambians
have a high regard for the man.
How much money did it cost to come to
Zambia? They are fascinated
with the costs of things in America.
I was always honest with them and responded in this instance with “about
$2,500 (a fortune to villagers) that I saved over a long time” trying to
emphasis the value of savings.
Do you use coal (charcoal) or wood to cook
your food? “Neither. We use electricity or natural
gas.”
Do you have drying racks (wooden shelves
made from branches to dry dishes)?
“No. We mostly have
electric dishwashers that both wash and dry our dishes.”
Does the sun shine the same in America as it
does in Zambia? “Yes. But the seasons are reversed. We are entering summer in America now.
“
Final Reflections on Zambia
Even though I spent 2 ½ weeks in
Zambia and covered over 500 miles, it was only a speck in time and a tiny
footprint compared to what all there is to know about a diverse and complex
country. So any general
conclusions I may make may be challenged by better informed authority. But I do have some observations:
What I will miss the most about
leaving:
The friendly
greeting from all the people I met
Cooking fresh
eggs and toast over a coal fired brazier
The natural
rhythm of daily life in a real village
The interest
Zambians have in America
Having my
daughter (and son-in-law) so near
What I won’t miss at all:
Zambian pop (the
hip hop music)
Nshima, the
doughy, sticky staple served at most meals
Mosquito nets
over the beds at night
Riding bikes
over sandy and rutted back roads
Gina asked me near the end of my
visit if I had to describe the people of Zambia in three words, what would they
be? I ended up requiring five
words.
Content with life as is
The Zambians I observed seem so
content with the current state of their lives that real improvement in standard
of living or economic development will not be initiated from within or by its
native citizens. Any changes will
stem from outside influences: foreign aid (thank you Uncle Sam), NGO programs,
foreign investment (Chinese mining of its copper and other minerals). As long as the people are content with
their current ways of life, markets will remain inefficient, rural villages
will be without electricity and running water, and birthrates will remain high. Even though that seems to be the
way it is, for the most part the people of Zambia remain respectful,
extraordinarily civil and very happy.
To all that I met, the fellow bus
riders, all the villagers, the women at Chikmubuso, the taxi drivers, the
shopkeepers, Chief Kanongesha, the Peace Corps volunteers, I can only say
“Mwani vudey mwani” as it is my great pleasure to have met you and may you and
your entire family and all your friends always be blessed with happiness and
good fortune in all that you ever desire to do.
And to Gina and Scott for their
hospitality during my visit, “Nasakilili mwani”. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
John Ord
May 2013
Thanks for this great post! We hope to visit our son next summer.
ReplyDeletereally enjoyable read!
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