The road to Solwezi

My time in Lusaka was up and I left to travel to Solwezi to start my placement on Sunday 4^th March.  I was greeted by my counterpart, Chilombo, at the Commonwealth Youth Centre and her companions. There were 6 of us travelling to Solwezi: Chilombo, Chipo (Chilombo’s son of two years), Holland (Chilombo’s colleague), Gerard (the driver), Chilombo’s nanny (it took me a while to work out who she was and why she was there) and myself. The reason for the packed car was that they had attended a training course in Lusaka over the week. So…we were squashed into a Toyota 4x4 and about to embark on an eight hour journey! Holland told me to sit back and enjoy the ride so I did.

Our first stop was in a village just south of Kabwe. This village was built around the main road – it becomes very clear that the main road in Zambia is the lifeblood of traders: stalls are set up very close to the road to capitalise on those who drive by. Traders don’t just sit and wait in Zambia, they come to you; they walk up to you with goods in tow and keep staring at you hoping for you to break and buy something. Holland and Gerard were all over this and were seasoned professionals. This was a place where you could get bargain fruit and vegetables. I watched them do the rounds: picking, sniffing, tasting and bartering.

Next stop was Kabwe, a fairly sizeable town. We would get food here for lunch (it was 10.40am) as future stops wouldn’t have many eating options. The group descended on a fried chicken shop. This was a good place to eat apparently, but I wasn’t so sure. It was similar to the fried chicken establishments that permeate London high streets. I could even see better places to eat across the road (Subway!) but I wasn’t going to go and do my own thing, so I ordered two pieces of chicken, chips and a can of cola - urgh. I completely demolished it, though.

By this time I had worked out that Holland was the character of the group. I watched him work effortlessly amongst the roadside traders, sifting his way through the tat and junk that people try to make Kwacha (the Zambian currency) out of. Holland purchased a best of Tuku Mtukudzi for the journey. This would be played on loop for the next four hours, with particular repeat plays of certain songs at Gerard’s discretion (tracks 3, 8 and 13 were particular favourites).

We reached Ndola after noon, which is pleasant town with wide streets and plenty of trees thereby giving off a European vibe. We called in at Holland’s brother’s place (a watermelon dropped off) and his mother’s place (bags of tomatoes and nuts dropped off). A short distance from Ndola was Kitwe – a large town with a gritty feel. At Kitwe the heat and the cramped conditions were getting to me and I was really desperate to get to Solwezi. Holland decided to change the CD at this point from Mtukudzi to a best of Phil Collins instrumental CD. As much as I like Phil’s music, the sombre sax solos in place of his voice really started to compound my tiredness and frustration. Waves of melancholia washed over me when I heard I Wish It Would Rain Down, although things perked up when Sussudio came on.

After Kitwe we had another short stop in Chingola, where a large mine is based, and from there we joined the final stretch of road to Solwezi. The natural environment emerged following the urbanised copperbelt towns: a cornucopia of green vegetation spread over undulating hills. It was at this time that I became conscious of the sheer number of people I had seen on the journey so far. They say that the population of Zambia is 13 million, but it felt like I saw more than that. I also saw a lot of churches, particularly Seventh Day Adventist churches on Chingola-Solwezi stretch. 

After about an hour, lo and behold we had another stop at a small village. There were plenty of food stalls which Gerard and Holland lapped up. I was at breaking point: tired, hungry, hot, sweaty, and sick and tired of instrumental Phil Collins. But I checked my perspective and reflected that a driver needs plenty of breaks on a journey that takes 8 hours, especially when the roads require serious attention when avoiding potholes and deciding to overtake vehicles. After our final stop it wasn’t long until we finally arrived in Solwezi. The odyssey was over.

Some thoughts from my first week in Lusaka

Arrival

So I arrived in Lusaka on Saturday 18^th February.  I was expecting the airport to be considerably larger than it was, and I couldn’t help feeling that it has shades of Cardiff International Airport. The first thing I noticed was the sun-scorched plastic windows on the terminal building which had been exposed to fifty-odd years of intense sunlight. I was also expecting some kind of melee considering I had arrived at an African airport but passing through customs was relatively straightforward, and we (VSO volunteers) were met by representatives of the VSO Programme Office to take us onto our lodgings for our in-country training at the University of Zambia.

Taxis

I saw Ban Ki-moon. He was part of a motorcade heading into the city on some business. I caught a glimpse from the rear seats of a clapped-out Honda that was proudly owned by Duvee, my taxi driver. Duvee told me that Mr Ki-moon said it should be OK for civil partnerships in Zambia (homosexuality is illegal and taboo in Zambia) to occur and if they wanted children they should be allowed. He was completely opposed. I could not understand half of the conversation so I just rattled out ‘yeah, yeah’ after every sentence to keep the conversation going. He blabbered on about Jesus, Muhammad and some other stuff and then I heard him talking about reproduction. I lost interest at this stage so just kept the show rolling with some more yeahs until I heard him talk about Colonel Gaddafi which is when my ears pricked up. I’ll never know how he actually got from religion to Gaddafi, though…

Taxis are a real experience in Lusaka. Apparently they have licensed taxis but I haven’t seen one, therefore I have become accustomed to using the unlicensed ones. The taxis are all moribund Japanese cast-offs that have been refurbished and shipped to Africa for re-use. The fumes that come from these cars are a saccharine petrol smell very different to the smell of fumes in London. Bartering a price for a ride is interesting. The drivers obviously overcharge you because you are white – they charge muzungu (white person) prices. So you have to be stern and try and get the price down. This can be done by walking away with your final price. You then have to hope they come crawling after you.

Town

Lusaka is quite hectic from my point of view but apparently it’s nowhere near some other African cities. After a week of being shepherded around town by VSO I eventually got my first walking experience near the centre and it was a real experience. There is so much life to see. It’s a different kind of life that you see on the high streets and town centres in the UK. The people here are driven by different needs, and the streets are covered in human traffic. People are selling, sitting idly about or simply getting from one place to the next. And when the rains have come down the mud pavements are covered in puddles so just adds to the drama of it all.

Cairo Road – the main drag – is the heart of the city. It is a long dual-carriageway and is packed with traffic. Taxi drivers just shout at you because you are white and they think you need a lift out of town, but apart from that the locals don’t hassle you. I walked down the central reservation where there is a track amongst trees – it is very pleasant and a lot easier than walking down the busy shop-fronted pavements. When I got to the end of the reservation a group of lads were just hanging out; one of them acknowledged me and put his fist out to touch mine, so I touched it and mumbled ‘alright’ and I moved on quickly with my backpack in tow. No matter how hard I try here, I’ll never be able to look cool! Who knows what they thought of me.

The other striking scene that Cairo Road offers is the on-road economy. As you near the northern end the road breaks into three lanes where the majority of the action occurs. All through the day there are people walking towards the traffic in-between the cars selling stuff: hazards lights for cars, fruit and vegetables, newspapers, mobile phone top-ups, trainers, cutlery… I could go on. It’s mind-boggling. It’s like 99p stores but on the streets. I’ve seen people buy newspapers and mobile top-ups, but I’ve never seen anyone just stop and try on a pair of trainers right there on a busy carriageway. I would love to know if these people make any sales on their trainer stock.