Zambia (2): Corrupt Presidents and lovely animals - what does that tell you?

Our broader experience of Zambia shows a much lower standard of living compared to its neighbours we have visited. There's little wildlife seen outside the Parks, unlike other countries. But that probably reflects the country's position. If you are a little wealthier you can afford to conserve wildlife. But, if you are poor, and if your word myama means wild animal and your word for meat is, funnily enough, myama - it doesn't take Einstein. If animals eat and wreck your maize and rice gardens, you get pissed as well.

But the big news story given many pages coverage, was all about ex-president Frederick Chilbura's being found guilty by judgee Peter Smith of the London High Court of defrauding Zambia of US$41million, an amount he has been fined to pay back. Chilbura is reported to have spent US$1million of tax payer money on suits alone.

But the papers are also excited by the fact that current President, Levy Mwanawasa, is trying to claim glory, but the editors maintain his campaign was financed by Chilbura. All good stuff.

In an open letter to Chilbura, in letters to the editor in The Post, a correspondent Wilson Pondamali captured the feelings of the populace:

[Ex-presidebt Chilbura]:
I want to address you on the subject of your theft, as detirmined by the competent Judge Smith in London. I know the way you are feeling by now, and I sympathise with you. However, at the time you were stealing from the ordinary Zambians like me, the following are just some of the things that happened to most of us.
We completed our grade twelve education and could not be absorbed into tertiary
education institutions due to their being inadequate. There was a lot of leakage of examinations going on because teachers were starving and alll they could get was quick money by leaking examination papers.
We lost a lot of relatives from curable diseases like malaria and tuberculosis, because there was no drugs. Money was there but you decided to use it to fulfil your personal desires.
(continued)

Our taxi driver expressed similiar sentiments, but went one further. He blamed all the HIV/AIDS cases in Zambia on Chiluba as well!!

Some Zambian history for you: Northern Rhodesia gained independance, and became Zambia, in 1964. Kaunda became president, but in 1972 he declared his UNIP party the one and only legal party, and he the only candidate for president. 27 years as president resulted. By 1990 people had has enough. Rioting resulted from extreme unemployment and crime, and full elections called for. Enter Chiluba. A Zambia Daily Mail letter (Barrett, Lusaka):

This is a man who took over presidency from Dr. Kaunda at a time when
majority Zambians were fed up with 'wumuyayaya' (forever) one party
state kind of goverment. I remember very well as everyone does how suffering
Zambians thought a messiah had come in the name of FTJ Chiluba and MMD to
save them from the Kaunda rule and his party UNIP .
From hence corruption and abuse of authority became encompassed in the
government structures and institutes. The thieves were in leadership, and we
were well graced by president Chiluba.'

This is currently the topic on all Zambians lips. It's neat witnessing it.

Some days later, Chiluba calls a press conference to pronounce his innocence. Reported by Zambia Daily Mail, he rejects Judge Peter Smith's judgement, 'describing it as racist and aimed at inciting Zambians to rise against him'. '[Smith's language] was abusive, demeaning and insulting, derogoratory, inflammatory and unbecoming of a High Court Judge.' ' In fact, his view was dangerous and paternalistic going great lengths of inciting Zambians to rise against one an other.' But this is not the mood I've encountered. Zambians want his blood. He admits spending from the 'Zamtrop fund', a slush fund used for 'security requirements'. He would not risk Zambia's position by dwelling on internal security issues, except to say 'the account has been used for a lot of good in Zambia'.

Anyway. Some other good stories from The Post: A government minister, Mwansa Mbulakulana, has called on all chiefs to be at the forefront of discouraging immoral activities i.e. sexual abuse, early marriages, and excessive beer drinking. Draw your own conclusions from Chief Naka's response. "We are ready to listen and learn. We must cease sexual abuse and early marriages." (!!!)

Also, I reckon my good dear GP Dean could learn from the services advertised in the classifieds of The Post (Wednesday May9, 2007): (Mind you I have always found Dean pretty easily.)

TRADITIONAL MEDICINE AT WORK PROBLEM! PROBLEM!
Manhood extension, maritial, impotence, fibroids, infertility, employment, court cases, low sperm count, sport, stomach pains, hiccups, prolonged periods or no periods, backaches, swelling of the testacles, miscarriages, swelling stomach or legs, promotions, skin disease, protection of properties, treated lucky jewekery and life protection, no sexual feelings, run-away husbands or wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, stolen or lost properties, cassabraca for women. C5 for men and much many more. CONTACT THE SPECIALIST: Doctor Cholembedwa. Direct No. 097-862575. Take a bus for Chipata Compound drop at Shokazi Corner, walk 100 meters along dusty Kasangala Road to Olympia Extension right at House No. D36 opposite a shop - Marapodi.
Now not even I could make that up! And to think, I will be in Chipata.

I meant to give you a recommendation to read Alan Paton's Cry, the beloved country. I read this in school days, but like most things of that era, I had forgotten. A simple, moving story, and a tad frustrating. Now the cold weather is approaching at home, curl up in front of the fire and you'll knock it off in a Sunday afternoon.

In Rooster circles Tanjewberymud is now legendry. And often recited at breakfast time on trips away. A copy of which, I believe, lies in the Taupo History. But I'll relate an extract from Vic Guhrs' The Trouble with Africa:

'Good evening,' says one. I see that his (a safari camp waitor) trousers are slightly too short; his scuffed shoes are showing, and one sole flapping. He is new, and I know that he is struggling with his English.
'Today we have super, is tomato.'
There are polite smiles from the diners and when they have finished their
soup, he is back, offering his tray to the lady sitting next to me.
'oh, what have we here.' she enquires, ladling a big spoonful of stew onto her plate.
'Snake and kitten pie,' comes the reply. (I remember the same waiter offering banana filters as a dessert yesterday, and this morning at breakfast he announced: "We have punched eggies, scalambala, or flying eggies. With bacon.")
The lady peers down at her plate, then at the waiter, then at me.
'It's OK,' I whisper, 'in fact, it's delicious.'

Lusaka, the capital, is a well worn dusty, infrastructurally streched city: power drops a couple of times a day and water stops/starts. A big town feel really. Easy to navigate. Probably easily forgotten as well. Except, maybe catching up for dinner with Petr, our Botswana ride and his lovely wife Renata (the Renata second for the trip).

Africans use what I term flexible honesty. That is, they tell you what they think you want to hear. Lusaka- Chipata? Six hours. At 10 hours and hitting dark, and now not knowing how much further it becomes disconcerting. But close: 10 and a half hours.

The buses are getting noticeably tirder and more crowded. But you know, we wouldn't want to do it any other way. We meet lovely people. The bus pulls off the highway and drops off/picks up people in the smallest of villages . All stuff we wouldn't experience if we were tucked up in a car by ourselves or belting along in an overland truck.

In the middle of nowhere roadside 'shops' appear. Tiny, mud walled, grass roofed , and all painted gaudy pink or pale blue. They appear to have to be 'branded'. They're outrageous:
'Paradise Bar and Grocery' (read shabeen where they homebrew -probably safer and cleaner to drink gasolene.)
'The [heart] of the Mark' (god knows! But heart is a red heart shape as in famous I[heart]NY)
'Uncle Chelima and Son Enterprise' (they're big on Enterprise)
'Enterprise Supermarket' (!!! The thing han't more than six sq m floor space!)
and not to forget: 'Graced with Blessings Store' (also big on religious conotations)
But I was intrigued by 'In God We Trusted'. Did the past tense indicate the store was their reward, or did they trust in god but ended up having to resort to opening this crappy little shop.

Anhow its nice to be rewarded for travel efforts. After arriving in Chipata, we locate Dean's Hill View Lodge, and meet Dean, a pom, who is building his venture from scratch and doing a nice job. Not easy here - it takes time. We are the only guests and feel he is keen to see us. We chat for hours over dinner and drinks, and sleep the sleep of the dead. Nice stop, nice guy.

Then it's off to Mfuwe, and South Luanga National Park. We have looked forward to this, especially having just read Vic Guhrs' book. This will be a fair-dinkum 'wild' experience. But we have to get there first. It's only 125 kms but takes eight and a half hours, which includes the mandatory mucking around to fill up the bus and then six and a half to get there. Above the driver a sign reads: 'This car is protected by the blood of JESUS'. Yeah, well, maybe. But who is protecting my cramped legs, numb bum and squashed genitilia? Man I now know how sardines feel. Behind our heads, Deb and I had half a dozen bicycle tyres and a bag of potatoes under our feet. I retain enough humour to still be astonished by some of the most magnificant baobab tree specimens we've seen so far.

We arrive at Flatdogs Camp, slang for crocodiles. Just unreal. Three elephants greet us, we erect our tent not 30 meters from the river's edge. On the other side two elephants are looking for their river crossing spot, only 50 meters from our tent. We walk to the water's edge for a look - shit ourselves! a big croc turns and splashes back into the river. When I looked for a nice grassy spot to put the tent, the animal guard tells me to move back five meters "The hippos graze that grass" Crikey! I'll shift at least five. Come dark and our tourches light up all the hippos grazing between our tent and the river, and the sets of croc eyes in the water. Hyenas whoop throughout the night. In the morning there's elephant dung not far away, and monkey shit on the tent! At first light, I open the tent fly for a view of the river and draw Deb's attention to the elephant ghosting past. Not 20 meters away! We hadn't been there 12 hours. Again, nicely rewarded for a tough travel day.

We take a night safari and score our leopard. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful creature. Big five. Big tick. Oh, and one day watched the new born giraffe struggle from its placenta and attempt it's first important task: to stand. Nicest park we have been to. Although brief, we enjoy the company of Tanja and Matthias from Frankfurt.

Sitting by the river; jotting blog notes; in the shade of a big tree, while an African sun beats relentlessly; sipping on a Mosi Beer; hippos grunt; birds shrill; an elephant trumpets amongst the trees across the river. Time floats into the ether. But it's Sunday - that's alright then.

I wrote in my first Zambia posting that we had crossed the Zambezi and things felt even more African. I was fascinated with the Chiluba corruption trial. And then I read in the concluding stages of The Trouble with Africa:

'...[or] the politician who must decide whether to put his hand in the till
or use his head and his heart to improve the prospects of his people; we all
have a choice to make.

Cross the Zambezi, and you will see for
yourself.'

Hmmmm. Seems I'm not alone. Oh, and I've now moved onto reading Thabo Mbeki's Africa: define yourself.

Anyway. We have a return email from Mrs. Zulu (I kid you not) confirming our cabin reservation on the famous old Ilila passenger/cargo ferry that will take us up Lake Malawi. Better get to Malawi.

Fight becoming one of the sheep.

Max
aka Mad.