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.