06: A Farm, Gomo, Celebration

Sorry for the delay folks. But I’ll make you at least one promise, if you keep reading and viewing photos, then I’ll keep posting.

Friday, April 3, 2015

At 5:20am, the water of the hotel shower is lukewarm at best. At 6:00am, the same taxi that brought me to the hotel last night, after meeting with the ambassador, picks me up along with my packed breakfast. I arrive at the home of Dave, the person I stayed with my first night in Zambia. At 7:15am we are on the road: Dave, Lionel, Michelle, and I.

After driving for several hours, we arrive at the border. There is a building for border control and we go inside to handle the paperwork. First we go through the line for Exit Control for Zambia and our passports are stamped. Next we wait in a different line for Entry Control and upon reaching the desk are handed a form. We each fill out the form, then return and wait in the same line again. (The forms were not available anywhere else for us to have filled out before waiting in line the first time.) Once at the desk again, each of us has the paperwork reviewed and then are directed to another counter to pay for a visa.

We wait in the visa payment line, pay for visas, and obtain receipts. My receipt has my name copied from my passport incorrectly. Before the cashier stamped the receipt as paid, with a stamp that includes the date, he adjusts the date to today's date, realizing that all stamps today up until now have been incorrect. I then return to the previous line, which I have already waited in twice, and wait in it again.

As I am waiting and now the second person in line, the Border Control Agent does not have a pen so asks the traveler for theirs. My turn. I hand over the completed form, receipt, and my passport. He hands the documents off to another person but I'm not directed to wait anywhere and now the next person is being helped as I, somewhat awkwardly, stand up by the counter right next to them. After five minutes I'm directed over to the adjacent counter. The agent who is processing my visa has stuck it into their documentation book instead of into my passport. The other agent helps her peel it out so it can be put in the correct place, my passport!

The form I filled out lists how long I will be staying. She asks me how long I will be staying and I tell her the same as what I have entered on the form. She ponders the information as if I don't really know how many days, then says she will put it for 30 days "just in case." She hands me my passport and the visa does have my name correct.

Within the Border Control building there is no directions or proper signage to help you through this whole process, and each of the lines you have to wait in are not even laid out in the building to be in sequence. When I entered Zambia, a single agent processed all that was needed in minutes: I waited in one line, one time.

Throughout this process, we had become separated. I do not spot any of the others inside so go outside to check. There are baboons climbing on the building and I take some photos. No one is at the vehicle so they must still be inside but I figure I will just wait out here. I walk around in the parking lot and there is a baboon walking across. I take some photos as it comes closer, not directly towards me but its path brings him closer before he will then be moving further away. I take some photos as he passes and goes on his way.

After I am done taking photos and have put my phone in my pocket, two guards signal for my attention as they are walking towards me. I wait and as they come closer I say, “hello.” They tell me that photos are prohibited. I say that I didn't know and that there is no sign saying that. I ask, "I can't take pictures of a baboon in the parking lot?" One of them says, "No, you can't take photos at Border Control, not of the buildings, people, or animals. No photos." I ask, "How would someone know that when there are no signs posted?" "You must ask. When you arrive somewhere you must ask what is okay and what is not." "Everywhere I arrive I need to ask what all the rules are for that place?" "Yes. There is a fine for taking the photos. $200." "I will just delete them," and I do. "It's too late, it has already occurred and you must pay." "I'm not paying you anything," I say calmly as I look straight into his face.

These are contracted security guards with no weapons or handcuffs of any kind, and they don't have any authority to impose fines, and I know they just want me to pay a bribe, so I will just entertain their antics. The one I had been talking to now says that he and I are friends and they are just letting me know the rules and they won't make me pay the fine this time. At this point, the other one had walked away from us to another area of the parking lot. The guard I’ve been talking to hasn’t said anything for a while so I say, "I'm going to go and wait for my friends over on that side," and wait to see how he will respond. He said nothing so I walk away, leaving him standing there.

He walks in the same direction as me, some distance behind. I pass the other guard and the one behind me joins him. The one that I pass says that I need to pay Kwacha (currency of Zambia). I say, "I'm not giving you any Kwacha." "Just something," he responds. "No. I'm going to go see how my friends are doing inside," and I walk away.

Besides each person needing to clear border control, the vehicle also needs to be documented with an additional fee charged. This includes several additional lines to wait in, similar to what it took to complete the paperwork and payment to receive a visa. It also includes Interpol. So that process, which Lionel is working through, is what we are waiting on at this point.

Eventually all paperwork is completed and we return to the vehicle, none of us being very excited about the processes just gone through. We now have to exit the Border Control area, pay an additional tax, which is not defined, have the contents of the vehicle inspected, and negotiate a bribe. They want to take our beer but Dave is pretty clear they won't be having it. We are able to leave without giving anything in addition to the final tax. Welcome to Zimbabwe.

This is one of the photos I took at Border Control. And I did delete them, after copying them first! They remained on the phone’s ‘clipboard’ until I pasted them later, effectively saving them. #smartphones

For lunch we stop at a restaurant that is a very common spot for people to stop while they are driving. There was a fire in the restaurant and since then they have built a new roof over everything and created outdoor seating. They’ve done that to keep on keeping on until they are able to rebuild. I had a ‘steak roll,’ which was basically a hamburger but with a piece of steak. There were dozens of condiments for you to choose from and put on yourself, many chilies, mustards, chutneys, sauces, pickled items, and grilled onions. Before leaving from our lunch stop, I purchase some biltong, which is similar to beef jerky.

Our nest stop is in Harare at a grocery store. We purchase some beverages before continuing on. At the cash register I pay in US dollars, not because they are willing to accept it, but because it is the only thing they will accept. Zimbabwe no longer uses its own currency, they use the US dollar for everything, basically as if it was their own. This is because their currency was so unstable and came to have no value. There are bills that have the denomination for millions of Zimbabwean dollars, and they became useless. For change from my US dollars, I did not receive US coins, instead I received both rand and bond coins. They use the coins from other countries while using US bills.

From Harare, we drive another 1.5 hours or so and at 5:00pm we arrive at our destination at a farm that is on the much larger property of Forrester Estates (to be discussed more later). The reason that has brought us here is our friend George. He is originally from Zimbabwe but I met in Zambia in 2008 where he was then living. We are camping here by a lake and the stars are so bright they reflect off the lake.

Map of drive to Zimbabwe:

Saturday, April 4, 2015

George left Zambia in December 2008 to pursue obtaining an ancestral visa to the UK based on his grandfather having held a British passport. He was successful and has lived in London for the last six years. In June 2012, he was at a pub in London when a woman came up to him because she thought she recognized him. It turns out that Carol was also originally from Zimbabwe. They in fact had dated when they were in high school in 1997, at that time each being at neighboring boarding schools. And 15 years later they reconnected in a London pub. In March 2014 they became engaged.

The farm we are staying on is where Carol’s father Dave lives. Dave is one of ten managers that live on Forrester Estates, which is 68,000 acres (27,000 hectares) of farmland for tobacco, cattle, peas, and citrus. Dave is the cattleman. The citrus from the farm ships as far as Hong Kong, Singapore, and Russia. As a tobacco farm, it is the largest privately owned farm in the world. To support all this, there are 19 dams with manmade lakes for irrigation, since it isn’t raining for eight months of the year. And all of this is owned by a German baron.

For all the guests that have travelled so far to be here, they have set up temporary accommodation including showers, toilets, sleeping ‘stables,’ and a kitchen area with a real stove, and refrigerator. There is also a fire pit, not to mention the bar with a full-time bartender. May I have another?

I have to say that George did a genius job on the showers. The water is pumped from the lake to an elevated high tank. From the high tank, the water goes to another lower tank, which is heated by a fire around the clock. The high tank provides the cold water and water pressure for both it and the hot water tank, and both serve the showers. Any time you want a hot shower, it is yours, with a bounty of hot water for all three showers to never run out. It could not be improved on.

After breakfast I head out for a bike ride on a bike that has been borrowed from a neighboring manager. The route ends up being a loop of approximately 10 miles on the dirt farm roads and has incredible scenery.

In the afternoon, there is a speedboat out on the lake pulling an inner tube. I have a go.

For the sunset, we go to the gomo. It means ‘large rock’. We head out from the farm in trucks and 4x4 vehicles, some of them driving all the way to the top. I ride in the back of a truck and near the top, those of us riding in the back decide we would be more comfortable walking, as the truck has to negotiate some very steep terrain. The views are incredible as we are on the highest point in the area for miles and miles.

From the top of the gomo.

Gomo Photo Gallery

We return to the farm and a group has arrived while we have been away. They have driven in two vehicles with trailers from South Africa and have had quite the series of adventures, including being pulled through three-foot deep mud by a very large tractor. And they become known as the ‘South African Contingent.’

In the evening there are a few fireflies fluttering around. I almost think I am seeing things that aren’t there. I’ve never seen fireflies before!

What is cool? Fifty people camping in semi-luxury accommodation on a farm by a lake, you know, ‘glamping.’

Sunday, April 5, 2015

After breakfast, I go back to the gomo with the South African Contingent in their vehicles, with a few of us riding on the top of one.

The afternoon begins with a wagon pulled by 16 oxen, followed behind by the choir from the local church. And on that wagon is a bridal party. Next is a wonderful ceremony. And then George and Carol are married! After the ceremony, they ‘depart’ on the wagon, before returning back to the reception.

Here is some condensed video from after the ceremony:

George and Carol on their wedding day!

The marquee is beautiful, the dinner is beautiful, the speeches are beautiful, and so is the dancing! Dinner consists of nearly everything being from the very land we are on including lamb, chicken, and beef. As the evening goes on, the host bar becomes a no host bar. But then it becomes a host bar again thanks to the son of the German baron. Thank you!

Outside of the marquee there are small, elevated fire pits on stands lighting the area. And the gardens this year were laid out and planted in preparation for the wedding, talk about planning ahead!

There are about 145 family and friends at the wedding with individuals from Zimbabwe, Zambia, South Africa, the United Kingdom, Austria, Switzerland, and one from America.

When George left Zambia in 2008, I drove out of town with him for his very last time of driving that drive. I knew then that I wanted to be here for this day, whenever and wherever it may be. It is actually the date that defined when my trip would start this year, and I fitted in going to Zambia before.

The honeymoon suite is a sailboat anchored in the middle of the lake, the bridge and groom being taken out with a speedboat at the end of the night.

Wedding of George and Carol Photo Gallery

Monday, April 6, 2015

Carol’s brother, Mike, takes a couple of the guests on a tour of the farmland.

First, we go and see tobacco in the different stages of the curing process, which takes seven to eight days. We walk through a tunnel that is at 78% humidity and 88°F (41°C). The air stings our eyes and throat, as the tobacco is off-gassing pneumonia as part of the curing. The final tunnel in the process starts at 140 F (60°C) and then finishes at 154 F (68°C). We don’t walk through that, but the doors were opened and we are in a small tunnel adjacent to the curing tunnel. You could say that I am not wearing appropriate footwear, and the heat stings my already sunburned toes.

Second, we go and take a look (from across the water) of the Gota Dam Residence, where the German baron lives when he is here. It was designed by a firm from London, is built on top of a granite rock (like the gomo), and cost about $7 million to build.

Third, we learn more about the cattle farm. There have been a peak of 6,000 cattle but currently there are 2,000. Many have been sold because of the current drought. The cattle are such a thoroughbred line that sperm from the bulls is sold around the world for $10,000 for a tube (called a ‘straw’). The pedigrees have to be traced back six generations. Of the top bulls in Africa, about 15 of the top 20 are here on this farm. That is based on size, weight, looks, and genetics. The most valuable are worth some shocking figures.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

I go on another bike ride, starting with the same loop, and ending with a detour through the woods and down into a valley. It basically became a mountain bike ride and was a lot of fun. Then I had to pedal back up out of the valley I went down into, making the route about 14 miles.

Zimbabwe Bike Rides Photo Gallery (Includes both rides.)

For dinner we are eating more beef. The story behind the beef is that it is from a steer named Christmas that was an engagement gift to George. We in fact have been eating Christmas the past few days including at the wedding. Merry Christmas!

As guests have been leaving the past two days, the temporary camp has been coming down. The kitchen and dining area has now shifted to the permanent gazebo by the lake. The camping party is down to eight people including George and Carol.

While we are out in the gazebo in the evening, I catch a firefly!

Firefly! Yep, this little guy makes light.

We are now all in normal camping tents, as the ‘sleeping stables’ have started to be taken down. There is rain in the night.

Camping on a Farm Photo Gallery

Random Zimbabwe Photo Gallery

“You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” – Winnie-the-Pooh

Honey-loving bear from the Hundred Acre Wood. 1924 – present. 

05: Remembering, Wild Animals, Bookends

Monday, March 30, 2015

This morning I woke up with a very mild stomachache and headache that became slightly worse throughout the day. I decided it best to stay home for the day.

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

In the afternoon, I start in Limulnga at Mbuywana’s home.

Mbuywana and me.

The drought that has taken place this year is soon to have a devastating outcome as it comes the time to harvest the crops that have not grown. “No rain: no rice,” as Waluka summarizes their situation.

After discussing the crops, which is now out of their control, we then talk about employment and having work. The conversation is amongst Waluka, Mulele, and me as we walk from the shops in Limulunga toward the school. During my visit here, they have both talked about waiting for work and waiting for opportunity, and I have reflected on their words and probable mindsets on the matter. I bring it up and tell them they can’t wait for work, that work is not going to come and knock on the door of their home as they sit inside. “Work won’t know the way from the road to where your home is to be able to knock,” I say, to clarify the personification I am trying to make so they will understand the point. They laugh.

I tell them they have to go and find the work, create their own opportunity, find the people that need things done, needing anything done. People don’t know who you are and what you can do, they won’t be coming to look for you, you have to go and tell people what you can do. It seems to be a new idea to them and Mulele seems to have an expression that would imply he can’t believe I am serious. I tell him I am and say that maybe you go and speak with 20 people and just one person has some small work for you to do, or maybe none of them do. But you won’t find out unless you ask, and even if there is no work to be done then, they may remember you in the future. I really hope that they think about this more.

At the school, I present on behalf of MacDonald-Miller, the company I was working for in Seattle, a donation to the Limulunga Scholars Scholarship Fund. The funds have come from the MacDonald-Miller Giving Fund, which supported a variety of great causes this quarter. The community school goes through grade 7 and is free to all students. After grade 7, the only option is to continue at a public school, all of which have fees. Limulunga Scholars was set up so there is a means to assist families in paying school fees so the students can continue their education. Many thanks from this community to the community at MacDonald-Miller!!

Head teacher Mutinta Musowani and grade 8 students Recent Lubinda and Maxwell Mando, two scholarship recipients.

It has been six year since the below photo.

Construction team members. January 2009.

And we take a new one.

Construction team members. March 2015. Back: Ngela Ngela, Waluka Mataka, Musasa Felix, Tyler Nelsen, Mwanalushi Muketoi, Mulele Ngela. Front: Angel Mubita, Mutemwa Mutumwa.

Now it is time to dig something up. Mutinta and I dig down to the top of two of the foundations for the water tank stand, as I couldn’t remember which one we needed to be at.

10 September 2008.

This was the day we finished placement of the first concrete for the school construction project, anchoring the water tank stand into the ground. This was a huge milestone for clean water and also the water needed for construction. I dated it then. We uncovered it now, to remember.

From the school, Mutinta and I take a mini bus into Mongu and he takes me to dinner.

Tonight I am staying at Aka’s house in Mongu. I had planned on going to bed early, but then one conversation lead to another. I learn about his time in politics, which started by accident. Besides his publications within his political career, Aka has contributed to other publications over the years as well as written several books, one of which he signs and gives me a copy.

I also learn more about his father, King Lewanika II. He met Martin Luther King Jr. at two different times during their lives, as well as exchanged correspondence over the years. Some of their correspondence is with the Martin Luther King Jr. Center. As well, the New York Times published a letter from King Lewanika II in 1961, which I have included below.

Distrust in Africa

To the Editor of the New York Times:

Like a cold wind the news from Alabama is blowing through Africa. Our rural and towns people are shivering before this new evidence that even the undisputed achievements of the black man in the West cannot protect him from the stigma of color – even in the United States of America, the land which has claimed to be the champion of anti-colonialism and the rights of man.

Many of my friends in Central Africa are saying, How can we trust the United States of America? Her offers of friendship and help are not really true. She wants us to be friendly to her but is not prepared to prove her friendship to us. Is it not true that in the United States of America men and women of our color have won respect and fame as doctors, lawyers, teachers, business men, scientists, soldiers, airmen, etc. Did not a black man first stand along with Commander Peary at the North Pole in 1907? Has not our brothers’ blood flowed with the blood of white Americans in the defense and the rights of man? And yet, in this same country, men and women are suffering because their skin is black. How can the United States of America speak for us in Africa?

Our hearts beat like yours, America. Oh, Alabama, be brief, be quick for once.

Godwin A. Mbikusita Lewanika
Member of Parliament for Luangwa, Kitwe, Northern Rhodesia
May 25, 1961

The New York Times
Published: May 31, 1961

Note: Northern Rhodesia, as listed at the bottom of the letter, is now present day Zambia.

In 1972, the letter was published in the book Talking back to the New York Times: Letters to the Editor, 1851-1971.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

In the morning, I board the bus heading to Lusaka. The door to the bus is held shut from the inside by a ratcheting tie-down strap, as the actual locking mechanism no longer works. And amazingly this bus has four seats across, instead of five. I knew they existed here, just only rode one a few times during 2008. It is lightly raining at times during the drive.

As the bus is cruising along at a good pace in an area without potholes, the bus hits and kills a dog. It is actually fairly common as the general rule with small animals on the road is to not swerve because you can leave the road, lose control, and end up killing yourself. It did make me sad when it was hit, it may have been a stray dog, or one kept by a family, either way was not fun to see it from the front row right before it was hit.

After about five hours, the bus crosses over the Kafue River and makes a stop. I depart the bus and load my bags into the vehicle that is there waiting for me. We take a short drive towards the river and arrive at Mukambi Safari Lodge, where I will be staying for the night.

The lodge is directly on the river, and just on the other side of the river is the national park. The property is quite nice and right in the middle of the land of wild animals, even having a ‘friendly’ hippo in the area that can be heard from the dining area. At times they have had just about every animal come through the property of the resort, including lions, leopards, elephants, and hippos. Because of this, the guests cannot be out alone on the property after dark; a guard must escort them because animals can come here anytime.

I let Mbuywana know that I will be staying a night here at the lodge. Mbuywana still has quite the sense of humor at age 70.

In the evening, I went on a boat ride to view animals from the Kafue River. Also on the ride with me were two women from Denmark along with their daughters who were each about twelve years old. We saw many hippos, birds, a few monkeys, and some elephants. As the dusk set in, the reflection on the water of the bank, trees, and clouds was magnificent.

Mukambi Evening Boat Ride Photo Gallery

Once ashore, I check my phone and have a text from a number I don't know. The message thanks me for the work done in Limulunga and extends love to my family. At the end: "Ambassador Inonge Lewanika." We have never met. But I have a good idea on how she has come to have my phone number.

Before dinner, I have a drink at the bar just as a fairly heavy rain begins to come down. Interesting people are about everywhere in this world. I meet a man from Stow-on-the-Wold, England. (I in fact had never myself heard of the place before.) He is here in Zambia to teach anti-poaching training and has an extensive military background. In addition to teaching, he recently completed anti-piracy training to have a position that can support him so he can make the trips to Africa to teach anti-poaching, which is what he really wants to be doing.

Over dinner I have some thoughts, in fact I’ve had them even before arriving today. I’ve had them while out on the boat, and now they continue as I sit at dinner. I am sad to have left Limulunga after spending time with the men that were previously my workers. I think of those that don't have work, can't pay for food, have crops that have not survived this year due to the drought, and cannot afford to pay their children's school fees. This one night here for me is the same cost as what I treated the small group from Limulunga to when we went to Senanga. I realize that most people would say that to make that comparison is not fair on myself. But it is my thought.

I know I have done much for the community I have just visited, with time, encouragement, and financial giving. But I still think about the numbers, and what they represent. I struggle with the topic and what numbers are going where, what I am spending on myself now and throughout this year. I don’t doubt my own generosity, but I still question my ability to do more.

I could have stayed in Seattle this year and given the total budget of my travels to those in need. Here, home, anywhere there is need. I also know I could have stayed home and bought the new vehicle I would like or soon made a down payment on a home. In those cases I know that I would not think anything about spending on myself the savings I have accumulated. But being here, there is nothing between me and immediate, obvious need.

So, I struggle with the thought of these different items and the numbers and what they mean and what those numbers could mean for the others. I don't have the answer, and I know there isn’t necessarily a right one or a wrong one, or that the answer is the same for anyone else, or that the answer can’t change. I know I never will feel okay while thinking about these items, and maybe that is the point.

I go to the high lounge to look out over the Kafue River and see the show provided by the lightning. The rain drips off the thatched roof, dripping down in front of me as I watch through. The rain has actually lightened now. I look down to the river and see my very shadow, cast by the light behind me. Also down on the flat water are the bar stools and railing I am leaning against.

The lightning flashes, lighting up the river as if it was midday. At times the flashes are so bright, and in direct view, that my vision has to readjust after, as if I looked at the sun or the arc from welding. The thunder cracks heavy and the rumble continues across the sky, passing from east to west above me.

I feel I don't deserve to be here. I don't feel that anyone really does, to experience something like this. Or maybe we all do.

After the rain has nearly stopped, I have a guard escort me to my chalet.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

It has rained nearly all night, stopping some time before 4:30am, when I awoke and could hear a hippo. I’m up for the day at 5:15am to meet at 6:00am in the dining area, after being escorted there by a guard. We take a boat across the river to the other shore and from there go in two trucks with seating mounted in the bed of each. I am in a truck with the same people from Denmark that were on the boat yesterday afternoon.

We see many animals and birds as well as fresh lion paw prints at two locations that were from different lions, the size of the prints indicating so. We do not spot either lion, but we were very close as the prints were very fresh, the rain having stopped not very long ago.

Mukambi Morning Drive Photo Gallery

After lunch, I head back to the Great West Road and wait for today’s bus going from Mongu to Lusaka. This driver is crazy. We come so close to being in several accidents as he passes vehicles. The odometer does not work and rests at zero. For the last two hours or so, an alarm buzzes periodically. Not sure what it is for, perhaps neither does the driver, as he continues to ignore it.

The last two hours were not the best either. After arriving in Lusaka, the traffic is so incredibly, unimaginably bad that it takes three hours to go just a few miles to the bus station. As my bags are under the bus, and the bus is close to vehicles on either side of it, there is not a chance of getting off early with my bags, as the doors would have no way to be opened for the bags to be removed. I never saw traffic this bad when I lived here. Vehicles start to run out of gas and then are being pushed, making it all worse. A car hits another car.

The three-hour traffic delay has quite affected my evening, which is now having the order flipped. I take a taxi to a restaurant and what should have been a 15-minute drive in traffic takes about three times as long, the driver even deciding to go down a street in the wrong lane for an uncomfortable distance. Once at the restaurant, it is another hour before Patrick arrives, as the entire city is barely moving.

Patrick lives in Mongu and was a great help to me when I lived there. While I have been in the Mongu and Limulunga area, he has been in Zimbabwe. He arrived back into Lusaka yesterday, but since I was staying one night at the lodge, he waited to go back to Mongu and stayed an extra night in Lusaka so we would be able to meet here. Patrick was a friend and great help to me so it is great to be able to see him.

Having dinner with my friend Patrick. He was a great help to me when I lived here in 2008

It is late by the time we are done with dinner, but I am quite set on fitting in all my plans despite the delay caused by the horrendous traffic. Patrick is using his brother’s car for the night so drives me to my next stop, where we arrive at about 10:00pm. He drops me off and we say our goodbyes until we will meet again some day.

Tonight, at an unordinary hour for such an event, I meet the ambassador. Princess Inonge Mbikusita-Lewanika. She is the older sister of Mbuywana and Aka. She retired in 2012 after have been the ambassador to the United States, as well as 18 other countries in the Americas. Prior to her work as an ambassador, she served in other rolls in politics as well as humanitarian aid. She has a home in Mongu now and stays with a friend when she is in Lusaka, the home we are at now. They have stayed up for my arrival since I was so delayed. Inonge comments that even at 72 years old, she is still a night person.

Inonge shares about her careers in humanitarian aid and politics. Due to who here parents were when she was little, and then what her careers have required, she has travelled and flown all over the world for decades. She jokes a bout living on the go, in planes and in airports. She has not flown in a year now, the longest time in a long time. Now retired from politics, she is working with many different humanitarian aid efforts as well as doing leadership training with youth. She says she is busier than ever before.

Thank you very much to those who made donations made toward the school repair projects! They were sufficient to complete the needed repairs at the school, as well as some extra that will pay school fees for students continuing beyond grade 7.

I believe in education and I believe in the construction of the school that took place here. Although money was donated, what was given was the gift of education. Education to enable individuals to better themselves, to rise above their current circumstances, to progress and excel. To enable them to do what every human has the capacity and desire to do.

If you would like to support the community school, funds would be greatly appreciated to support students and teachers in ways listed below.

Limulunga Scholars Scholarship Fund

The community school is free and has classes through grade 7. For grades 8 through 12, the only option is a public school, all of which have fees. $75 covers the cost of school fees, books, uniforms, and supplies for an entire year for one student. That means $375 provides a student with a high school education! (*$75 is the average, as fees vary based on school.)

Teachers Compensation Fund

The teachers effectively work on a volunteer basis, frequently receiving no pay for many months when there are no funds available. A public school teacher here earns 3.5 times the amount that the community school would like to be able to pay their teachers. What is amazing is that some of the teachers could be working at a public school and be paid but they choose to stay and teach at the community school for free! $138/month is what the community school would be grateful to be able to provide to a teacher. – Three people donating $46/month would provide one teacher’s salary.

Tax-deductible donations can be made HERE. Scroll to the bottom to find ‘Zambia Support,’ which is only for the community school. If you would like assistance setting up a reoccurring donation, please send me a MESSAGE.

The school construction project had a larger outcome than education for children. It was monumental for the workers in what they learned, the focus they developed for the future, and being productive as an individual and member of their community. It has been exceptional to return and hear the stories as I have sat in homes and to see their businesses and projects.

As I have learned about the history of Barotseland, I have realized that I am part of the story of one community, and they are part of my story as well. I now don't just have better bookends for my past experience here: I have the best bookends.

Check out the map of Zambia to see the locations where I have been.

Click on the map to go to the interactive version.

New photos have been added in each of these galleries:

Limulunga Community School Photo Gallery

Random Zambia

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime." – Mark Twain

Author. November 30, 1835 - April 21, 1910

04: Floodplains, The Zambezi, Songs in Lozi

I’m a bit delayed in my posts, but hopefully we will be caught up at some point. To put content up sooner than later, the next several posts will cover just a few days each, this will also shorten the read. We had a meeting and the writer discussed it with the manager and we all agreed. We’ve also discussed writing less, though that is still in debate.

Kingdom of Barotseland

Now to follow up on the meeting I had with the prince and tell you more about Barotseland. Prince Akashambatwa Mbikusita-Lewanika is 67 years old and goes by ‘Aka.’ Below are some highlights of what I found most interesting and also will hopefully give an overall understanding.

• The monarch started on the basis that the people decided they needed to have a king for governance and chose one, not that a conqueror became king through conquest.
• The people continued choosing kings from the same family. Since they are chosen, kingship is not passed from father to son, but all kings do come from within the royal family.
• The title for the king is ‘Litunga’ which means ‘keeper of the earth.’
• In written history there are 31 Litunga of Barotseland.
• The first two Litunga were queens and later the 16th Litunga was also a queen.
• Oral history remains that the rulers prior to the first two queens were women.
• The 3rd Litunga ran away when he heard rumors that he would be chosen. He had to be brought back and was forced to be king.
• The most basic disqualification for leadership: wanting to be a leader. You are not a leader by right or might; you are a leader because people have chosen you to be there leader to serve them. Someone wanting to be a leader might not be ‘user friendly’ to be a king. This still remains the ideal characteristic for kingship.
• When you are crowned you are given a name of kingship, but still keep your given name.
• The ‘language of the king’ is Luyana. To a degree, it can be thought of like Latin. If you use it, you are educated and of high class. The term ‘Litunga’ is Luyana. When speaking about the king, the words are of the language Luyana, and those words are only used to speak of the king, not of other people.
• The 12th Litunga had the longest period of reign, being more than 70 years.
• The king’s children generally will not be seen outside of the palace until they are able to walk. To protect the children, they may be given several names and the palace will release the wrong information that a child born a boy is a girl, and vice versa.
• It is doubtful that there will be a queen as Litunga again, but it is not impossible.
• The 27th through 30th Litunga were all brothers. They have the same father but do not all have the same mother.
• A person does not own land; they have custody of it and are the custodian of it.
• There have been many conflicts and there are political disputes still today between the Kingdom of Barotseland and the Republic of Zambia.

Near the end of my conversation with Aka I say, “So you are a prince?” He responds, “It depends on what your definition is for a prince,” I provide my definition as, “The son of a king.” “Then yes, I am a prince.”

Aka is the son of the 29th Litunga, King Lewanika II, whose given name was Mbikusita. Aka’s last name is Mbikusita-Lewanika. The first part (Mbikusita) comes from his father’s given name, and as Aka’s second name indicates he is his father’s son. (‘Surnames’ don’t have the function in Africa as we know them, they still function as second names did in Europe in the 1700s.) The second part (Lewanika) is to indicate royalty, although not all royal families adopt this same convention in their names. Aka is also the grandson of the 24th Litunga, Lewanika I.

I ended up meeting with Aka because I know another person with the name of Mbikusita-Lewanika. That would be his sister Mbuywana, the principal of the community school. She is still a princess at age 70. Once a princess, always a princess.

Kings of Barotseland Photo Gallery Includes the most recent six kings, reigning from 1916 to present.

Friday, March 27, 2015

I arrive in the afternoon to Limulunga and meet Mulele and Musasa at the community school. We start walking north along the road and soon it begins to rain, so we take cover under the veranda of a church. There are some women there selling bananas so we buy a dozen or so, they are smaller than the average banana. Once the rain lets up a bit, we continue our walk north, eating the small bananas as we go. We reach the area of shops and go into one of them. After asking, I swap three warm drinks from my backpack for the exact same drinks in a refrigerator in the shop. Cheers.

From the shop we walk to the home of Musasa. In 2008, Musasa was whom I put in the role of general foreman for the school construction project. Once we are inside his home, it is extremely hot. But he has invited me here so this is where we will meet, even though it is easily 15 degrees cooler outside with a breeze. I drip sweat for the entire time we are in his home.

Since the school construction, Musasa has done some other construction projects at some schools and a post office. Primarily he is farming but does other work as there are the opportunities. He farms rice every year and sells it, last year selling 60 bags of 50 kg (110 lbs). This year with the drought, he may not be able to sell any. His wife helps with the farming as well as buys maize in the town of Kaoma, several hours away, and resells it in Limulunga for a profit.

Musasa has increased the size of his home by double since 2009, and his family definitely needed it. He and his wife married in 2005 and have six children of their own. In 2005, his brother and sister-in-law both passed away, leaving two children that Musasa took in. In 2007, his sister died, leaving another child that he took in. So with the addition of the three orphans that are his nieces and nephews, he now cares for nine children that are ages 19, 16, 16, 14, 11, 10, 10, 8 and 7. All the children have been healthy in his home, but it takes every bit of income to be able to feed everyone and pay their public school fees once they continue beyond grade 7 at the community school, where there are no fees.

The Home of Musasa Photo Gallery

From the home of Musasa, we head with Mulele down to the harbor, which is a dug channel from the floodplains to Limulunga. We continue past the harbor and find a location with a great view of the plains.

A dredger removing sand from the bottom of the harbor in Limulunga.

Mulele was the bookkeeper during the school construction in 2008. He was in charge of payroll, checking tools out and back in to all workers, material use tracking, and eventually petty cash.

Since almost all business here is done in cash, paydays included many currency notes and envelopes with each person’s name on it for their pay to be placed into. Besides those envelopes, many workers had an additional envelope for savings to be placed into each week. Besides knowing the total number of cash needed each week, we also needed to know the quantity of each note needed so each envelope for pay and savings could have the exact amount put into it each week. I developed a process for Muelele to determine all of this and we dialed it in until there were no longer any mistakes. Each Friday, Mulele let me know the total quantity needed for each denomination of note and he handled the rest. This meant that each week, Mulele received an amount of cash that at times was equal to an entire year’s pay for him. Nothing ever went missing or was questionable. And prior to us working together, he did not know the math to be able to do any of this. What he was able to do for the project made my job a lot easier.

Since the school construction, he has done farming and various work when there have been opportunities. Recently he has take a driving course and obtained a driver’s license, something not common for those living in Limulunga. He is working on becoming a taxi driver. He stays with friends in Mongu during the week and with his brother Ngela, the welder, in Limulunga on the weekends.

Saturday, March 28, 2015

Today we are going on a journey. A mini bus arrives at Liseli Lodge in the morning and Shaun (PhD student from Canada) and I get aboard. We head up to Limulunga and pick up two teachers and four of the men who worked on the school construction. We are on the road out of town by 10:15am.

We drive south for two hours, enjoying some fancy cookies along the way, and arrive at our destination in the town of Senanga. Here we are staying at a small resort for one night in three chalets. The resort is located right along the Zambezi River. I wanted to do a short trip out of town and attempt some fishing.

The Zambezi River in Senanga.

The fishing poles are home made with the pole being a stick. There is a piece of foam from the sole of a sandal tied into the line of each to act as a bobber. The hooks are purchased, but it is also common that they will make their own. Waluka has made most of the poles. For what they are, they are very well made. We fish away on the shore of the Zambezi River and out of all of us over several hours of fishing, just one is caught, a little one about 4” or so long.

There was a huge bolt of lightning across the river and off in the distance. It was followed by a huge crack of thunder that actually jolted me a bit from the intensity. There was some light rain and we took cover in the building, afterward returning to some more attempts of fishing.

In the early evening, we go out on the river on a pontoon boat for an hour and enjoy the sun as it goes down and lights up the clouds. It is grey skies and there is not a sunset to view but it was quite enjoyable to be out on the water with these men that have never done something like this before. We enjoyed some more of those nice cookies, from the mini bus ride here, along with the cider Hunters Gold, which was my absolute favorite when I lived here before.

Some of the men chose not to drink because they don’t have alcohol, and another tried cider for the first time. For the ones that do drink, they enjoy a drink very rarely because they can’t afford it when they have barely enough to get by day to day for the basics. Anyone who does drink, would make their alcohol themselves from the fruits that will ferment and turn to alcohol.

The resort wanted to charge 10 kwacha per person for us to use one of the barbecues. I wasn’t  a fan of that, so instead we went into town and went to a sit down restaurant that was 25 kwacha ($3.50) per person. At the end of dinner, Peter, the bus driver, bought sodas for everyone. It meant a lot that he wanted to contribute to the trip. He also gave a discount on the final cost for the mini bus.

Sunday, March 29, 2015

In the morning, we pack up and head for the harbor, making a stop on the way to buy rolls for breakfast. The harbor is not large and doesn’t really have anything official or permanent about it. There are more than a dozen temporary thatch enclosures where fisherman stay and from where dried fish and fresh fish are sold. We have come to buy fresh fish, since we couldn’t make our own catch, but there are none. It is not the season for fishing, so we don’t feel so bad about our own lack of success.

Hand carved canoes in the harbor in Senanga.

We are on the road out of Senanga by 7:45am because we need to get back to Limulunga so some of the guys can go to church. If the plan hadn't been to leave early to be back in time, some of them wouldn't have come. For the duration of the drive, there are grey skies with no rain, which doesn’t happen very often, but is nice because it brings cooler temperatures.

After dropping off my bag at Liseli Lodge and eating some additional breakfast, I head to the community school to attend the same church service as I did last week. Since it is Palm Sunday, the congregation is walking from the town to the school with palm branches and I have arrived before them. One of the workers from the school construction in 2008, which I had not seen yet during this visit, is there and comes to me to talk and he ends up translating for me as Mulele had done last week. The service is in the large hall today and in attendance: 24 adults, 10 teens, and 21 children. In contrast to last week’s unusually small service, this is larger than average because of it being Palm Sunday.

Because it is Palm Sunday, the service is much longer than usual, running for almost 2.5 hours. During the service there were many songs in Lozi by the choir and a bit of dancing at the end, which I did get wrapped into. At the very end of the service, every person goes through and shakes the hand of the other, starting with the pastors and then once each person has shook the hands of those already in the line, they join the line at the end as the other people come through, so by the end every person has shook the hand of every other person.

The two videos below are under two minutes each. They are clips of songs in the Lozi language.

In the afternoon, Waluka comes and finds me in Limulunga. When I had texted several of my workers after arriving, one of those was Mwanalushi. He had not responded and no one has seemed to have his number. Waluka sent someone to go and find Mwanalushi and they did. Mwanalushi came to find Waluka this morning while I was at church so now Waluka gives me the phone number for Mwanalushi. I give him a call then go to his home, which is about halfway between Limulunga and Liseli Lodge.

Mwanalushi is so excited that I have been trying to find him and now have come to his home. He is in disbelief that I have returned. His disbelief is both amazing and perplexing because it does really seem to take him some time to really believe I am there and talking to him! We have met at the road and now walk to his home, which is not too far. He lives on the land of his father just next to his sister and her children. He married in 2006, is now 28, and has two children ages 6 and 3.

In front of his home on a tarp is maize spread out drying in the sun, the grains having been removed from the cob. I ask him about it since I don’t know the exact process before it becomes usable for nshima. He explains that it is only taking two days to dry this season because the drought has already made it so dry when it is picked. Normally it would be pre-dried at the location where it was grown, before being spread out to dry in the sun, but it isn’t necessary this year. So two days from now, it will be milled and ready for making into nshima.

Maize drying in the sun before being milled.

Mwanalushi was a worker who I always enjoyed being around. He always smiled and was ready to laugh over a situation or joke. When something was needed from Mongu, he was the first choice for sending on the mini bus to go find what was needed and have it back at the construction project at the school. Today he primarily farms but would like to work as an auto mechanic. He took a course on auto mechanics and had a short duration of employment as a mechanic but he has not been able to find a job long term.

The Home of Mwanalushi Photo Gallery

New photos have been added in each of these galleries:

Random Zambia Photo Gallery

"Do not dare not to dare." – Aslan

The Great Lion. High King of All High Kings. Lord of Narnia. October 1950 - forever.