The following is a blog post that Annie and I have been wanting to write for some time. We could not possibly explain all the stories or the “mishaps” that have occurred thus far so we have gathered a collection of typical “Zambian” moments that continue to amuse…
1) Two days ago Annie, Mr. Luhana, and I were kindly invited to lunch at Mr. and Mrs. Kaoma’s house. Mr. Kaoma is 3rd in command of ZAWA (Zambian Wildlife Authority) here at Ngoma and his wife is one of the leading teachers at the school. Lunch here is done much like Europe in that everyone leaves work and has a big meal at home. As we all sat down for lunch, Mrs. Kaoma began to uncover the four pots of prepared food. The first pot was clearly vegetables, the next was a yokey substance (come to find out it was okra), the third was Nshima (the staple food in Zambia), and the fourth was identifiable…
Margaret: What is in that pot?
Mr. Kaoma: It is meat
Mrs. Kaoma: It is impala
Margaret: Oh great, I love impala
The meal goes on…five minutes later…
Annie: Where is the meat from (considering we are in a national game park)
Mr. Kaoma: It was poached
Annie: Oh?
Mr. Kaoma: Yes, we came across a poacher and he ran away so we captured the meat.
2) Today KnowledgeBeat was sponsoring day two of the girls’ empowerment camp training. Annie was at the venue helping to facilitate the program and I drove down to town to pick up food that we needed. I passed through one of the ZAWA gates and was told to slow down. Side note: it is extremely common here for people to hitchhike and drivers to pick them up because very few people have transportation. Continuing on…I pulled over to the side of the road where I was approached by four men who needed a lift “downhill” to town. I said I was only going as far as town but that I could accommodate them. They all crowded into the car and when I looked around I noticed each of them was carrying a machine gun…
Margaret: The guns make me a little uncomfortable
Man #1: Don’t worry madam, we won’t shoot you.
Margaret: Thank you!
3) Day one in Itezhi Tezhi, Annie and I got lost trying to drive to a campsite after dark. I had no idea where we were going but Annie seemed to think it would be a good idea to leave before dark; what a good idea that would have been!! Although she told everyone that she wanted to be on the road before sunset, it wasn’t until AFTER sunset that everyone said “it is dark, you must go.” As Annie and I were trying to find our way (there are no lights here) we took a wrong turn and stumbled across a ZAWA ranger at his post. He seemed abnormally happy and was very eager to jump in the car and the show us the way. Annie, smart little one, promptly said “no, no, no, no, we will make our way just fine. Thank you.” He seemed to get the picture and told us how to get to our campsite, i.e. “it is right behind that hill” pointing to a huge mountain in the middle of the bush with a dam on the opposite side. I looked at Annie and asked “would he tell us the wrong directions?”
4) As a continuation to the story above, we arrived in New Kalala, NOT our intended destination and found it completely deserted. After asking an employee if New Kalala had a campsite, we were escorted down to an area directly on the Itezhi Tezhi Lake. Now, in the states, you would think, wow, this is great, we are right on the water. Here, you think, ummmm, there are hippos, crocs, baboons, and more. The campsite was a fair distance away from the main camp area and Annie and I were not keen on staying. After convincing the manager to let us camp up by the pool (because they had no other guests) we found that we may have been better off by the lake. We woke twice, once, to a still unidentified cat-like creature traipsing across our tarp, and second, to me asking “Annie, Annie, do you hear that??” That sound was the distinct sound of a hippo munching grass less than five feet from our tent. The next morning, the staff must have been laughing at us because they commented “oh, so you were visited by a hippo last night. We saw him just there.”
5) We were having a logistical conversation with Mrs. Kaoma regarding the girls camp. Mr. Peery (a ZAWA ranger and head of the PTA whose 16 year old daughter just gave birth two days ago) suggested that if we needed additional beds for the girls, there were several guesthouses down the hill that we could use. Mrs. Kaoma stated that we were going to have to make sure that there were enough chaperones with the various groups of girls because otherwise some girls would come back pregnant and she didn’t want to have to “explain to their mothers that they took girls to an empowerment camp and they came back pregnant.”
6) The first afternoon we arrived in Itezhi Tezhi, Annie and I noticed a very angry bull tied to a tree in the center of town. The bull seemed to know more than us at the time. Annie, snapped a picture of the bull commenting to Mr. Luhana as we walked by “why is he tied there, that is not very nice to do that to a bull.” A few hours later, Annie and I were sitting in the center of town talking to a few local people when I head an unbelievable sound coming from the bull. I commented to one of the women that bull sounded extremely angry. As Annie and I were driving out of town I looked over and was astounded to see at least 20 villagers standing on top of the gutted bull with machetes. Annie ABSOLUTELY could not believe that the bull had just been slaughtered in the center of town! Annie asked Mr. Luhana, “why did they do that?” Mr. Luhana answered simply, “food.” I personally thought the most amazing part was that the next day there were no blood, no flies, no sign that a slaughter had just taken place.
Ahhhh, Zambia!
Monday, June 23, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Mentoring Girls
On Wednesdays KnowledgeBeat hosts girls mentorship sessions at the Ngoma Basic School. The goal is to promote girls education and encourage girls to break free from traditional cultural molds in Zambia. The sessions are voluntary for girls in Grade 7, 8 and 9. Almost 100% of the eligible girls have been attending since the launch at the start of Term 2 (early May). Two of the teachers, Mr. Machilla and Mrs. Kaoma, have been leading the program from within the school.
This past Wednesday, we had scheduled a young female doctor from Itezhi Tezhi, Chikwe, to come to Ngoma and speak to the girls about her career path and striking a balance that works. We told her that we would pick her up from the hospital in Itezhi Tezhi at 13.00. However, a couple of kilometers from Itezhi Tezhi, we popped a tire. And so ensued a rather comical scene in which several very kind fisherman who came across us on their way to the river, attempted to help us change the tire. The unfortunate reality was that we did not possess the right tool to get the spare unhooked, and so rather than change the tire, we sent the popped tire off with a ZESCO vehicle that passed to be mended. Two hours later, the tire returned and the same young fishermen helped us get it back on the vehicle. We picked up Chikwe at 15.00 instead of 13.00 and headed for Ngoma, gnawing on the difficult task of trying to work in the remote areas where we operate.
Just about nothing out here happens without a hitch and the lack of infrastructure adds a layer of difficulty that can easily have you pounding your head against a wall indefinitely. When you sit in the U.S. getting the rambling excuses of why this or that didn’t happen as planned from the field, it is easy to pass judgment, but when you’re in the field doing all that you can, the tables are turned, and all you can do is prepare for the unexpected, roll with the punches, and adapt in ways that produce results.
When we finally did pull up to the school with Chikwe, all of the girls and the two teachers were patiently waiting in a classroom. The hour and a half session that followed was filled with lively discussion and lots of questions from the girls. To kick things of Mrs. Kaoma took a poll of all the girls who wanted to be doctors and those who wanted to be nurses – only one or two wanted to be doctors versus a dozen nurses. Chikwe said “why is that you don’t desire to be a doctor instead of a nurse?”, stating that because men are generally doctors and women nurses should not be a deterrent. By the end, there were close to ten who wanted to be doctors rather than nurses.
It was interesting to listen to the questions coming from the girls – there were a number about what it was like to be a doctor, how Chikwe had done in school, etc., but the majority had to do with how to deal with a boy. The general response given by Chikwe (and Mrs. Kaoma at points) was that a girl should not have a boyfriend as he will distract her – no discussion of balance. Chikwe herself is not married and she’s a beautiful young woman who is one of the head doctors at her hospital. The girls were surprised to find out she did not have a husband, and we can only hope that it will help them have the courage to break free from traditional customs of early marriage.
That evening one of the girls we’ve gotten to know, Boronah, came by our house. She had enjoyed the session as she did all of them. Getting out of Ngoma and doing something with her life is a priority for her and she believes studying hard and going on to secondary school is the only way. We reminded her about the scholarship program KnowledgeBeat is offering. Secretly, we both hope she gets one, because it’s girls like Boronah, the ones who are inspired to change their world, that keep us charging ahead.
This past Wednesday, we had scheduled a young female doctor from Itezhi Tezhi, Chikwe, to come to Ngoma and speak to the girls about her career path and striking a balance that works. We told her that we would pick her up from the hospital in Itezhi Tezhi at 13.00. However, a couple of kilometers from Itezhi Tezhi, we popped a tire. And so ensued a rather comical scene in which several very kind fisherman who came across us on their way to the river, attempted to help us change the tire. The unfortunate reality was that we did not possess the right tool to get the spare unhooked, and so rather than change the tire, we sent the popped tire off with a ZESCO vehicle that passed to be mended. Two hours later, the tire returned and the same young fishermen helped us get it back on the vehicle. We picked up Chikwe at 15.00 instead of 13.00 and headed for Ngoma, gnawing on the difficult task of trying to work in the remote areas where we operate.
Just about nothing out here happens without a hitch and the lack of infrastructure adds a layer of difficulty that can easily have you pounding your head against a wall indefinitely. When you sit in the U.S. getting the rambling excuses of why this or that didn’t happen as planned from the field, it is easy to pass judgment, but when you’re in the field doing all that you can, the tables are turned, and all you can do is prepare for the unexpected, roll with the punches, and adapt in ways that produce results.
When we finally did pull up to the school with Chikwe, all of the girls and the two teachers were patiently waiting in a classroom. The hour and a half session that followed was filled with lively discussion and lots of questions from the girls. To kick things of Mrs. Kaoma took a poll of all the girls who wanted to be doctors and those who wanted to be nurses – only one or two wanted to be doctors versus a dozen nurses. Chikwe said “why is that you don’t desire to be a doctor instead of a nurse?”, stating that because men are generally doctors and women nurses should not be a deterrent. By the end, there were close to ten who wanted to be doctors rather than nurses.
It was interesting to listen to the questions coming from the girls – there were a number about what it was like to be a doctor, how Chikwe had done in school, etc., but the majority had to do with how to deal with a boy. The general response given by Chikwe (and Mrs. Kaoma at points) was that a girl should not have a boyfriend as he will distract her – no discussion of balance. Chikwe herself is not married and she’s a beautiful young woman who is one of the head doctors at her hospital. The girls were surprised to find out she did not have a husband, and we can only hope that it will help them have the courage to break free from traditional customs of early marriage.
That evening one of the girls we’ve gotten to know, Boronah, came by our house. She had enjoyed the session as she did all of them. Getting out of Ngoma and doing something with her life is a priority for her and she believes studying hard and going on to secondary school is the only way. We reminded her about the scholarship program KnowledgeBeat is offering. Secretly, we both hope she gets one, because it’s girls like Boronah, the ones who are inspired to change their world, that keep us charging ahead.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Man...Whites
Sunday we made our way to Itezhi Tezhi from Lusaka. The road is paved about 2/3 of the total distance before it turns to dirt ridden by a sea of potholes as you approach Kafue National Park. Despite setting out early that morning, the heat of the sun when we hit the bush left us all sticking to our seats and wishing that the sea of tsetse flies swarming the vehicle would disperse so we could open the windows. Margaret almost jumped in my lap when one found its way into the vehicle, it succeeded in biting my foot but I chose to keep my mouth shut for fear she’d have a heart attack. They carry sleeping sickness among other things and tend to make the entire area around where they bite you swell up and itch terribly. Generally unpleasant. We passed a host of small villages, many with signs posted along the road, saying “come visit us” or “help our school”. Women and children pass from one to the other along the road, often bearing huge loads of wood, water, charcoal or food atop their heads, a feat that will never cease to amaze me. They smile and wave as we pass, and we feel guilty about the cloud of dirt that engulfs them as our vehicle goes by.
Though we had repeatedly asked Luhana prior to our departure if the house and to be office we wanted to set-up in Itezhi Tezhi for the organization would be ready for us, it was not. And so began two days of “house-hunting” in Itezhi Tezhi. The first of the two available houses was available within a block of other homes, with no privacy and insufficient security. The second was located atop the hill in the upper scale part of town, had wide open rooms and full bathrooms. However, there was clearly construction still underway, and when we finally connected with Francis, the owner, after several failed attempts that yielded some phenomenal fresh lemonade from his wife, he informed us it would not be ready for a month – pieces were needed from Dar Es Salaam and Lusaka. So we agreed to take that house when it was ready to serve as an office from which we can reach Ngoma and other schools in the District. After inquiring about every other available structure within Itezhi Tezhi, we deduced that we had no viable options. ZAWA to the rescue. Mr. Kaoma, the third in command out of Ngoma who also journeyed with us from Lusaka, kindly offered us a house within Ngoma on a temporary basis and ensured that the original house prepared for Annie, our Peace Corps volunteer, would be turned back over to KnowledgeBeat as a place for Sarah or other team members to stay while in Ngoma in the future. And so five years later, I am once again living in Ngoma, and it is so good to be back.
The two days and nights we spent in Itezhi Tezhi before shifting to Ngoma had their share of entertaining encounters – from an angry bull tied to a tree being slaughtered in the center of town to waking up in the middle of the night to a hippo munching grass not more than five feet from the tent we had deliberately placed to avoid such a visit (this incident quickly lead us to toss out the idea of camping outdoors for the remainder of our stay). The second night we stayed at the ZESCO flats and had a drink with Francis before dinner, during the course of which he showed us that he had stored our phone number under the name “man…whites”, and so we gained insight into how we were being perceived, the two white American girls and the respected, old Zambian man. It was also evident that the entire town knew our activities play by play as well as where we were staying each night; a reminder that news travels extremely fast in a small “town”. We also awoke the next morning to the unfortunate desperation of poverty – the cap to our engine oil was missing. Stolen. Not a drop of engine oil had splashed out and on these roads, had it fallen off as they were suggesting to us, the whole engine would have been covered. Two South African men opening a horse Safari lodge slashed up a water bottle as a temporary fix and several hours later a boy declared he happened to have the exact part, asking for 80,000 kwacha in exchange. We snagged our stolen cap back, refusing to pay, and set out for Ngoma.
We were welcomed with open arms in Ngoma, several girls cleaned the structure that we would call home, and an electrician came to ensure that we had power with which we could cook on an electrical stove rather than over charcoal as so many villagers do here. Tonight as we were preparing food, three of the village women came to sit with us, Ruth, who worked in the health clinic, “mom” as we call her here, who works for ZAWA, and Mrs. Kaoma, a school teacher who is running our girls programs. They commented as we began to chop vegetables and sort out our pots, pans and dishes. Intrigued that we had decided to make pasta and vegetables for dinner, they insisted that the next night they would teach us how to make fish and nshima (the staple food here) properly. It was a very settling and welcoming feeling, 5 women sitting on a stoop talking and sharing. It is good to be here.
We’ve had several great preliminary meetings with the school and ZAWA. Much more to come on the details over the next few days as we have a big meeting with the school Thursday morning, and the training for the girls camp this weekend.
Though we had repeatedly asked Luhana prior to our departure if the house and to be office we wanted to set-up in Itezhi Tezhi for the organization would be ready for us, it was not. And so began two days of “house-hunting” in Itezhi Tezhi. The first of the two available houses was available within a block of other homes, with no privacy and insufficient security. The second was located atop the hill in the upper scale part of town, had wide open rooms and full bathrooms. However, there was clearly construction still underway, and when we finally connected with Francis, the owner, after several failed attempts that yielded some phenomenal fresh lemonade from his wife, he informed us it would not be ready for a month – pieces were needed from Dar Es Salaam and Lusaka. So we agreed to take that house when it was ready to serve as an office from which we can reach Ngoma and other schools in the District. After inquiring about every other available structure within Itezhi Tezhi, we deduced that we had no viable options. ZAWA to the rescue. Mr. Kaoma, the third in command out of Ngoma who also journeyed with us from Lusaka, kindly offered us a house within Ngoma on a temporary basis and ensured that the original house prepared for Annie, our Peace Corps volunteer, would be turned back over to KnowledgeBeat as a place for Sarah or other team members to stay while in Ngoma in the future. And so five years later, I am once again living in Ngoma, and it is so good to be back.
The two days and nights we spent in Itezhi Tezhi before shifting to Ngoma had their share of entertaining encounters – from an angry bull tied to a tree being slaughtered in the center of town to waking up in the middle of the night to a hippo munching grass not more than five feet from the tent we had deliberately placed to avoid such a visit (this incident quickly lead us to toss out the idea of camping outdoors for the remainder of our stay). The second night we stayed at the ZESCO flats and had a drink with Francis before dinner, during the course of which he showed us that he had stored our phone number under the name “man…whites”, and so we gained insight into how we were being perceived, the two white American girls and the respected, old Zambian man. It was also evident that the entire town knew our activities play by play as well as where we were staying each night; a reminder that news travels extremely fast in a small “town”. We also awoke the next morning to the unfortunate desperation of poverty – the cap to our engine oil was missing. Stolen. Not a drop of engine oil had splashed out and on these roads, had it fallen off as they were suggesting to us, the whole engine would have been covered. Two South African men opening a horse Safari lodge slashed up a water bottle as a temporary fix and several hours later a boy declared he happened to have the exact part, asking for 80,000 kwacha in exchange. We snagged our stolen cap back, refusing to pay, and set out for Ngoma.
We were welcomed with open arms in Ngoma, several girls cleaned the structure that we would call home, and an electrician came to ensure that we had power with which we could cook on an electrical stove rather than over charcoal as so many villagers do here. Tonight as we were preparing food, three of the village women came to sit with us, Ruth, who worked in the health clinic, “mom” as we call her here, who works for ZAWA, and Mrs. Kaoma, a school teacher who is running our girls programs. They commented as we began to chop vegetables and sort out our pots, pans and dishes. Intrigued that we had decided to make pasta and vegetables for dinner, they insisted that the next night they would teach us how to make fish and nshima (the staple food here) properly. It was a very settling and welcoming feeling, 5 women sitting on a stoop talking and sharing. It is good to be here.
We’ve had several great preliminary meetings with the school and ZAWA. Much more to come on the details over the next few days as we have a big meeting with the school Thursday morning, and the training for the girls camp this weekend.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Friday the Thirteenth
Today we met with the Ministry of Finance to discuss reporting procedures and accounting systems within Zambia for international NGO’s such as ours. The gentlemen we met with is an old friend of Luhana’s who holds a high seat within the organization. A mob of people surrounded the guard post when we arrived, and we had to be fetched and escorted inside. They were people in search of money owed to them by the government, clearly impoverished and desperate, and sadly never likely to see a dime. We walked out happy that we would be able to account for finances in a manner that complied with both U.S. and Zambian standards. Given how small we are, we will hire a consultant from the Zambian Institute of Chartered Accountants to come in biannually and “do the books” as they say here.
From there we made what has become a typical route through the bank, the mechanic, and the internet café. Logistics here are painfully slow, from navigating the roads to the internet crashing every five minutes. Surprisingly, the vehicle was almost ready when we arrived complete with a new windshield, washed interior and best of all an engine that ran. We thanked Mr. Gray and promptly drove it to John (trusted mechanic) to polish off before we head into the field. The journey was my first driving experience within Zambia and the combination of Lusaka roads, driving on the “wrong” side of the road, and an old stick shift vehicle made me nervous and left me exhausted, but other than a few “watch out you almost hit that person” squeals from Margaret and losing Luhana in the traffic, things went pretty smoothly. It took John all of 7 minutes to identify that the bushels needed to be replaced and so rather than driving off with the car, we left it with him to tend to and shifted our planned departure for Itezhi Tezhi from Saturday to Sunday.
Luhana really has been amazing, spending every day running around town with us straightening out odds and ends, updating us on the programs, and ensuring us that whatever it takes, he is committed to seeing this succeed. With all Luhana’s kindness and “western” thought and treatment of Annie and I, there are inevitably cultural barriers. Zambians do not like to talk about money, making it difficult for us to openly discuss salary payments, the cost of our rental house in Itezhi Tezhi, and other expenses with Luhana. Whenever we confront Luhana with a pointed question he would deem inappropriate or uncomfortable he often giggles in his own way and says “ohhh Annie and Maggie, that is funny, I will remember that but we must not worry, as we are together and all will be fine.” Regardless of the occasional bump along the way, Luhana remains “honored” by our visiting and interest in his country and in perfect “African hospitality” is more concerned with our comfort than his own. You can see that he carries a great amount of pride for his people and his country and is eager to share that. Regardless of time or schedule, if we are passing through an area where he has family, Luhana stops to introduce Annie and I. He treats us as family, a rare and different gift that I have not encountered often in the states.
This will, fingers crossed, be our last post from Lusaka before we return to pick-up Sarah and Katie from the airport in two weeks.Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Lusaka and the Vehicle Saga
Ah Zambia. Margaret and I made it to Lusaka on Monday night, scrambling excitedly off the plane and inhaling air filled with what I can only describe as the smell of a developing country – a mix of burned trash and the “bush”, uncontrolled exhaust, and the raw beginnings of industrialization. Luhana fetched us from the airport, and we set-up camp at Eureka, the same place I slept the first night I ever spent in Zambia five years ago.
One thing that will never cease to amaze me is how well Zambians remember you – after all these years, every time I show up at Eureka, John says, ah, Greenforce, you have returned! Friendly and welcoming is a characteristic that pervades Zambians, and at times it is almost overwhelming – “space” as we would say in the States is not something that people here are cognizant of - for Margaret and I it is a difficult adjustment, especially when all we have to call our own is a tiny two person tent staked in the midst of overland buses in the Eureka camping ground that we share with our packs.
Surprisingly or unsurprisingly very little seems to change here and yet at least for me there is a distinctly different feel vibrating from the country than when I first came in 2003. Lusaka itself still sustains itself off the same handful of primary roads, leading to almost insatiable amounts of congestion – the motorbike trend that has rocked Asia has yet to take hold in Africa, so minibuses, 4x4’s tramping through town between bush trips, and cars streaming a dark grey cloud of exhaust smoke that leaves me contemplating its impact on global warming compose the mayhem. There are the same shacks lining the sides of the streets with woman selling fruits and vegetables, clothing and goods. However, today they are made of tin, they are composed in neat rows in many parts of town, the government realizing they could not rid the country of them, built sturdier structures for people to sell from. And there are the cell phones – there are hands down more billboards and stores selling cell phones than anything else: “Rock your world with Celnet” and pictures of young Zambians dancing while they hold a cell phone to their ear.
While discussing the purchase of a vehicle, we asked a Zambian man who runs a Maid and Gardener Training Center what he thought of the current government and the initiatives under way. He was pleased. He said they were doing a great job. They are investing more and more in education and infrastructure. They have finally started taxing the mines (mainly copper), increasing the amount of funding that remains within the country – today the tax is 17%, compare that to 1% several years ago. Progress. But progress that you have to understand how to see and measure, because when you look at what is the capital of the country otherwise, you will wonder how they still seem so behind (recommended reading on the theory of this is The Bottom Billion by Paul Collier).
In the midst of taking it all in, the last few days have been occupied by obtaining a vehicle. For a while now, it had been made clear to us that transport and infrastructure were the primary barriers to expanding KnowledgeBeat’s programs. In choosing to work in rural areas, the challenges that have slowed development in those regions have been brought glaringly to our attention. While there are buses from Lusaka to Itezhi Tezhi, none exist to Ngoma or the next generation of villages we plan to touch. So with the help of a substantial grant specifically dedicated toward the obtainment of a vehicle, Luhana, Margaret, and I spent the last few days viewing vehicles with the help of the old Greenforce mechanic, John.
Agonizingly slow and expensive would be the two thoughts that come to mind regarding our search. We worked off a list of recommended second hand car sellers that Kathy had given us. Our first impression was sheer shock at the cost of the vehicles – honestly, most of these cars would be turned over to junk yards in the U.S., but a group of clever mechanics and handy people keep them running here. To Luhana’s chagrin, one of the first things out of my mouth to a gentleman selling the cars at Henson’s, was “are you kidding, I could buy this car new in the U.S. for almost the same price”. He laughed, “ah yes, try that, and than see that you will pay more than double in import tax to Zambia”.
Import tax. Shipped or driven across, it is astoundingly high which is even more shocking when one realizes that no vehicles are manufactured within Zambia and lack of transportation means remains a huge barrier to development. The problem is that the government doesn’t actually pay its people which means that border guards and customs officials are grasping at straws to obtain payment, regardless of the price at which it comes for the country at large.
Today we had John view a variety of vehicles that we thought were within reason, budget and functionality. No dice. He very straightforwardly (a rare and appreciated trait among a Zambian) informed us that among other problems, the engines needed to be replaced, and even than the vehicles would cause us “a lot of trouble” and probably last “for a year”. He turned and glanced at another vehicle, “let me see that one”, it was substantially above budget, but we let him at it. His recommendation – you will not find a better vehicle for what you want and it is priced reasonably. After much heartache and anxiety on our part about the budget, we came to the conclusion that squeaking out the funding to purchase a vehicle that could survive was worth it in the long run.
Negotiations. Most of the time in Zambia Luhana’s ability to effectively negotiate drastically exceeds ours. However, in this particular instance, the gentleman was not Zambian and clearly of a western mindset. The indirect, refusal to commit or even make an offer on Luhana’s part was met by severe frustration. I kept my mouth shut for the first round before bluntly telling Luhana he had to cut the run around and be direct or we were never going to get anywhere. The final agreement was reached with the gentleman on the phone and Luhana standing next to me iterating numbers that spewed out of my mouth each time he glanced my way.
At present, Margaret and I are sitting in the bar in Eureka, waiting for the power to return so that the kitchen can cook food. We haven’t eaten yet today and it is 8:30pm. Day two of not eating breakfast or lunch. And day three of Levy hitting on us - the “space” phenomena in full effect.
One thing that will never cease to amaze me is how well Zambians remember you – after all these years, every time I show up at Eureka, John says, ah, Greenforce, you have returned! Friendly and welcoming is a characteristic that pervades Zambians, and at times it is almost overwhelming – “space” as we would say in the States is not something that people here are cognizant of - for Margaret and I it is a difficult adjustment, especially when all we have to call our own is a tiny two person tent staked in the midst of overland buses in the Eureka camping ground that we share with our packs.
Surprisingly or unsurprisingly very little seems to change here and yet at least for me there is a distinctly different feel vibrating from the country than when I first came in 2003. Lusaka itself still sustains itself off the same handful of primary roads, leading to almost insatiable amounts of congestion – the motorbike trend that has rocked Asia has yet to take hold in Africa, so minibuses, 4x4’s tramping through town between bush trips, and cars streaming a dark grey cloud of exhaust smoke that leaves me contemplating its impact on global warming compose the mayhem. There are the same shacks lining the sides of the streets with woman selling fruits and vegetables, clothing and goods. However, today they are made of tin, they are composed in neat rows in many parts of town, the government realizing they could not rid the country of them, built sturdier structures for people to sell from. And there are the cell phones – there are hands down more billboards and stores selling cell phones than anything else: “Rock your world with Celnet” and pictures of young Zambians dancing while they hold a cell phone to their ear.
While discussing the purchase of a vehicle, we asked a Zambian man who runs a Maid and Gardener Training Center what he thought of the current government and the initiatives under way. He was pleased. He said they were doing a great job. They are investing more and more in education and infrastructure. They have finally started taxing the mines (mainly copper), increasing the amount of funding that remains within the country – today the tax is 17%, compare that to 1% several years ago. Progress. But progress that you have to understand how to see and measure, because when you look at what is the capital of the country otherwise, you will wonder how they still seem so behind (recommended reading on the theory of this is The Bottom Billion by Paul Collier).
In the midst of taking it all in, the last few days have been occupied by obtaining a vehicle. For a while now, it had been made clear to us that transport and infrastructure were the primary barriers to expanding KnowledgeBeat’s programs. In choosing to work in rural areas, the challenges that have slowed development in those regions have been brought glaringly to our attention. While there are buses from Lusaka to Itezhi Tezhi, none exist to Ngoma or the next generation of villages we plan to touch. So with the help of a substantial grant specifically dedicated toward the obtainment of a vehicle, Luhana, Margaret, and I spent the last few days viewing vehicles with the help of the old Greenforce mechanic, John.
Agonizingly slow and expensive would be the two thoughts that come to mind regarding our search. We worked off a list of recommended second hand car sellers that Kathy had given us. Our first impression was sheer shock at the cost of the vehicles – honestly, most of these cars would be turned over to junk yards in the U.S., but a group of clever mechanics and handy people keep them running here. To Luhana’s chagrin, one of the first things out of my mouth to a gentleman selling the cars at Henson’s, was “are you kidding, I could buy this car new in the U.S. for almost the same price”. He laughed, “ah yes, try that, and than see that you will pay more than double in import tax to Zambia”.
Import tax. Shipped or driven across, it is astoundingly high which is even more shocking when one realizes that no vehicles are manufactured within Zambia and lack of transportation means remains a huge barrier to development. The problem is that the government doesn’t actually pay its people which means that border guards and customs officials are grasping at straws to obtain payment, regardless of the price at which it comes for the country at large.
Today we had John view a variety of vehicles that we thought were within reason, budget and functionality. No dice. He very straightforwardly (a rare and appreciated trait among a Zambian) informed us that among other problems, the engines needed to be replaced, and even than the vehicles would cause us “a lot of trouble” and probably last “for a year”. He turned and glanced at another vehicle, “let me see that one”, it was substantially above budget, but we let him at it. His recommendation – you will not find a better vehicle for what you want and it is priced reasonably. After much heartache and anxiety on our part about the budget, we came to the conclusion that squeaking out the funding to purchase a vehicle that could survive was worth it in the long run.
Negotiations. Most of the time in Zambia Luhana’s ability to effectively negotiate drastically exceeds ours. However, in this particular instance, the gentleman was not Zambian and clearly of a western mindset. The indirect, refusal to commit or even make an offer on Luhana’s part was met by severe frustration. I kept my mouth shut for the first round before bluntly telling Luhana he had to cut the run around and be direct or we were never going to get anywhere. The final agreement was reached with the gentleman on the phone and Luhana standing next to me iterating numbers that spewed out of my mouth each time he glanced my way.
At present, Margaret and I are sitting in the bar in Eureka, waiting for the power to return so that the kitchen can cook food. We haven’t eaten yet today and it is 8:30pm. Day two of not eating breakfast or lunch. And day three of Levy hitting on us - the “space” phenomena in full effect.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Faulty Bomb Threats
The 5:15 am wake-up call came early this morning and was supposed to be the start to a fairly easy day of travel from Cape Town, South Africa to Lusaka, Zambia. Program Director, Macmen Luhana, would collect us from the airport and by mid-afternoon we would be laying a framework for a summer building KnowledgeBeat from the inside out. That’s not exactly how the day panned out…
Annie and I were met at the Cape Town airport by a crowd of ~200 people herded into a small overhang in the garage directly across from the domestic terminal. People had been waiting there since 5 am for the airport to re-open due to a faulty bomb threat. After waiting there for around an hour everyone began pushing to the front and the airport re-opened.
We made it inside and found that our flight was in its final ticketing and check-in stage, what a joke! The flight was technically closed and boarding before travelers had even checked in. Annie and I were starting to get a little concerned about our connection in Joberg to Lusaka. It was going to be tight, be we were most likely going to be able to make the connection, or at least that’s what we thought.
When we finally got into our seats and began taxiing down the runway, the plane shut down its throttles and we pulled over for a “mechanical problem.” Come to find out the airplane door wouldn’t close properly. At this point, there was officially no hope in making our connection. Welcome to traveling in Africa.
We arrived in Jo-burg at 11:07 am, 17 minutes after our Lusaka flight had already left. The re-ticketing line was horrible because of all the Cape Town connections. After an hour in that line we were told that we could be confirmed on a 6:50 pm flight.
So here Annie and I sit at the Johannesburg Airport writing our second blog. I guess I shouldn’t have been joking around with her last night that our travels were going to be a hysterical comedy of errors…
Annie and I were met at the Cape Town airport by a crowd of ~200 people herded into a small overhang in the garage directly across from the domestic terminal. People had been waiting there since 5 am for the airport to re-open due to a faulty bomb threat. After waiting there for around an hour everyone began pushing to the front and the airport re-opened.
We made it inside and found that our flight was in its final ticketing and check-in stage, what a joke! The flight was technically closed and boarding before travelers had even checked in. Annie and I were starting to get a little concerned about our connection in Joberg to Lusaka. It was going to be tight, be we were most likely going to be able to make the connection, or at least that’s what we thought.
When we finally got into our seats and began taxiing down the runway, the plane shut down its throttles and we pulled over for a “mechanical problem.” Come to find out the airplane door wouldn’t close properly. At this point, there was officially no hope in making our connection. Welcome to traveling in Africa.
We arrived in Jo-burg at 11:07 am, 17 minutes after our Lusaka flight had already left. The re-ticketing line was horrible because of all the Cape Town connections. After an hour in that line we were told that we could be confirmed on a 6:50 pm flight.
So here Annie and I sit at the Johannesburg Airport writing our second blog. I guess I shouldn’t have been joking around with her last night that our travels were going to be a hysterical comedy of errors…
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Golden's Recycling
Tomorrow Margaret and I leave for Lusaka. We've spent the last few days running the gamet in Cape Town from townships to the Cape Grace Hotel, bouncing from one extreme to the other and gaining insights into life here, today.
Golden, a classic microentrepreneur from Khayelitsha ("new beginning") Township (population 1.2 million) outside Cape Town, takes aluminum cans among other things and transforms them into decorative flowers. His work is nothing short of amazing and it has enabled him to bring a flat screen TV into his tin walled 3 room home that he, his wife, and their 6 children share. He sells each flower for between 15 and 85 rand depending on size and complexity. He can make 25 flowers a day, sales fluctuate widely. I asked him do you have anyone working with you? do you take any loans? there was a 5,000 rand check on the wall from a micro-finance competition he won. No, he has no help other than occassionally from reluctant children, and no he does not have loans, as he does not like debt. He makes enough to scrap by comfortably and inspires school children throughout the township to take a creative approach to trash. Vison. He had none. In a sea of poverty he had created a means to give his family a slight lever, yet he had no desire to try to take it to the next stage, to actually pull him and his family out of poverty. Margaret had visions of decorating weddings in the U.S. with the flowers, i could see retail stores throughout the country. But that will not likely ever happen. He is the epitome of what microfinance is funding. Fruit stands, 5 room bed and breakfasts - small efforts that are making people's lives better, but where are the entrepreneurs creating growth? Where is the infrastructure to take micro-finance to the next level? To create businesses that will change their world and ultimately the world.
The mall on the other hand, the Waterfront, has a brand new "iStore" aka Apple Store. It also has Guess, Gucci, Tumi, and a host of other international brands. Little more than the pharmacy could be attributed to a South African business. I asked one of the gentlemen in the Apple Store who was kindly enabling me to use an external hard drive to install programs on my Mac AirBook - what is driving the economy here, what beyond tourism is creating wealth? He had no answer. The secondary answer in Cape Town is of course wine, but he like so many others, can only think of tourism. Yet there is so much more from retail to energy. It is happening on a micro level, it is happenig haphazerdly, it is happening and most of the country doesn't have a clue. There isn't a structure to small and medium size business or a middle class yet. There is a complex dichotomous society deriven from the Aperthid that is still struggling to leave its racial roots behind.
There is a huge opportunity here. One which is slowly taking shape. It will be different, the solutions cannot be carbon copies of other societies, culture and technology are demanding creative solutions. South Africa will likely be the center of Africa's economy for years to come, so we had all better not only understand it but strive to be part of it. Because there will be those few entrepreneurial spirits who emerge, giving Golden and other micro-entrepreneurs a vehicle through which their creativity can mold the future of Africa, gaining a toe hold within a sea of predominantly international conglomerates. Those types of spirits, leaders are rare and no matter how instinctive without education behind them, they are as likely to wind up governing a rebellion or surrendering to AIDS as launching the Google of Africa.
Golden, a classic microentrepreneur from Khayelitsha ("new beginning") Township (population 1.2 million) outside Cape Town, takes aluminum cans among other things and transforms them into decorative flowers. His work is nothing short of amazing and it has enabled him to bring a flat screen TV into his tin walled 3 room home that he, his wife, and their 6 children share. He sells each flower for between 15 and 85 rand depending on size and complexity. He can make 25 flowers a day, sales fluctuate widely. I asked him do you have anyone working with you? do you take any loans? there was a 5,000 rand check on the wall from a micro-finance competition he won. No, he has no help other than occassionally from reluctant children, and no he does not have loans, as he does not like debt. He makes enough to scrap by comfortably and inspires school children throughout the township to take a creative approach to trash. Vison. He had none. In a sea of poverty he had created a means to give his family a slight lever, yet he had no desire to try to take it to the next stage, to actually pull him and his family out of poverty. Margaret had visions of decorating weddings in the U.S. with the flowers, i could see retail stores throughout the country. But that will not likely ever happen. He is the epitome of what microfinance is funding. Fruit stands, 5 room bed and breakfasts - small efforts that are making people's lives better, but where are the entrepreneurs creating growth? Where is the infrastructure to take micro-finance to the next level? To create businesses that will change their world and ultimately the world.
The mall on the other hand, the Waterfront, has a brand new "iStore" aka Apple Store. It also has Guess, Gucci, Tumi, and a host of other international brands. Little more than the pharmacy could be attributed to a South African business. I asked one of the gentlemen in the Apple Store who was kindly enabling me to use an external hard drive to install programs on my Mac AirBook - what is driving the economy here, what beyond tourism is creating wealth? He had no answer. The secondary answer in Cape Town is of course wine, but he like so many others, can only think of tourism. Yet there is so much more from retail to energy. It is happening on a micro level, it is happenig haphazerdly, it is happening and most of the country doesn't have a clue. There isn't a structure to small and medium size business or a middle class yet. There is a complex dichotomous society deriven from the Aperthid that is still struggling to leave its racial roots behind.
There is a huge opportunity here. One which is slowly taking shape. It will be different, the solutions cannot be carbon copies of other societies, culture and technology are demanding creative solutions. South Africa will likely be the center of Africa's economy for years to come, so we had all better not only understand it but strive to be part of it. Because there will be those few entrepreneurial spirits who emerge, giving Golden and other micro-entrepreneurs a vehicle through which their creativity can mold the future of Africa, gaining a toe hold within a sea of predominantly international conglomerates. Those types of spirits, leaders are rare and no matter how instinctive without education behind them, they are as likely to wind up governing a rebellion or surrendering to AIDS as launching the Google of Africa.
Think big, act locally. Margaret and I will focus on only a sliver of what it will take when we reach Zambia tomorrow, but we hope one day, that sliver will spread like wildfire through the Bush.
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