Paying Homage and Other Stories

This weekend I had the chance to take a 5 day trip to accompany my host father on his business in the Copperbelt. Much of the trip was spent following him around doing errands as he takes care of various sets of orphans and the numerous businesses he administers, many for deceased children of his. There were also many very enjoyable moments and some highlights I would like to pass along. The trip was centered in the cities of Ndola, Kitwe, and the small village of Ibenga but we also passed through Chingola, Chililibombwe, Mufulira, Kalulushi, and Luansha - for those of you who like maps.

I should first say that despite being the mining and industrial hub of Zambia the towns are all really nice. I had pictured ugly, dirty mining towns - think 19th century London with its smog and grime and you will get close to what I expected. Instead, I found the nicest towns I have visited in Zambia. Why? This seems to be due to that pleasant colonial policy of not letting black people live anywhere near town. Hence, the houses and buildings in town are all really nice - fit for the Brits, Rhodesians, and South Africans who ran the place - while the dwellings for poor people are all shoved to the outskirts. It may be a downright rotten way to run a country but a great way to build a nice looking town. The result is leafy trees, nice colonial era banks and administrative buildings, and nice houses with large yards that, unlike Lusaka, do not have to be surrounded by ten feet of brick and electric fencing.

The countryside is also really nice. It is very green and unlike the south, is capable of growing trees that stand more than 10 feet tall. In addition to natural vegetation there are also large tree plantations which look just like natural forests. These are quite large and so you can pass for quite long distances with forest on both sides of the road. So much for polluted, industrial paradise.

The first highlight was the Dag Hammerskold memorial near Ndola. He was the UN Secretary-General who was killed when his plane crashed there in 1961 on his way to mediate between warring parties in one of DR Congo's many fights. After 5 kilometers of driving off the main road we arrived at a beautifully treed memorial site. A statue now sits where the plane crashed and a plaque marks the ant hill where his body was found. Everything is very well laid out and there was a nicely built interpretative center at the side. There was even a pleasant and knowledgable guide. Even though I knew nothing about Dag H, I felt a little moved by the facility and the man.

Another highlight was the mines. Unfortunately, being the weekend, we were unable to get a tour but saw among others the wettest underground mine in the world and the second largest open pit mine in the world (both figure are according to my host father). They told us, though, that if we returned an underground mine tour could be ours. Will have to try and work that in sometime.

One reason for the trip was for my host dad to visit his farm. He runs a farm that was left by his late son. It is quite large, especially for Zambia, with three large maize fields that take two months to harvest (manually) with 100-150 workers. All you can see is row after row of maize. Last year they produced 17,000 bags, the year before that was 22,000. This year will likely break both of those marks. To go to the farm we stayed over night in a town called Ibenga. I slept at a farm house of one of my host dad's many relatives in the town. It was great - there was no power and, being the countryside with no towns anywhere nearby, the view of the stars was tremendous. I had no idea that there even were that many up there! It is a neat thing to be squatting over a hole in the outhouse (squatting, not sitting, as there was no seat), by the light of a lantern.

On the way back from the farm I asked my host dad a question about chiefs. Before I knew it we whisked off the main road and were on a bumpy track heading for the local chief's palace. Palace is a bit of a misnomer. The house itself is smaller than a bungalow, and his several wives live in other houses just outside the complex. It does have electricity, though, as a wire is sent out from the nearest town several kilometers away just for the purpose of electrifying his house. We were greeted by one of the wives who then sent for the chief and we went to his meeting place where we were questioned by the chief's attendant. When the chief showed up we remove our hats and knelt on the ground. You don't shake hands with a chief as he is far more important than you are. When the chief gave us the OK we sat down. It was explained that my host dad had a farm in such and such a place (although not actually in his chiefdom) and that we were passing through and felt it appropriate to pay our respects to the chief. Then my host dad gave the attendant some money, and the attendant passed it on to the chief (you don't give it directly, that would be disrespectful). After a brief conversation we left and continued on our way. As it turned out we were interrupting the chief from a funeral (these last several days) for his niece (who died when there was a bike on bike accident with his son). It's not every day that you get to pay homage to your local African chief. I asked my host dad a lot of questions about the chief system on the way home that day and will write more on the subject later.

My host dad has many business interests I had not known of that I discovered on this trip. It was also a very sad trip in lots of ways. He has a heavy equipment rental company that his son had bought with some friends after privatization. His son had ran it quite well and was the majority shareholder but after his death my host dad had the friends run the day-to-day operations because the company is based in Copperbelt, not Lusaka. We were at the business several times and clearly the friends have done a horrible job - the place is nothing more than a pile of rusted metal junk now with only a very few working vehicles and even these were not on the road because the drivers had not been paid. Then we visited a guesthouse in Kitwe which had been run by another son (note that I'm not always sure who are actual biological sons because the word son includes both sons and the sons of your brothers) who worked and was trained in the catering industry. After his death his daughters are trying to carry on the place. Again the business is suffering. My host dad really wants to spend more time on these businesses but he also feels called to his ministry in Lusaka. Several times he pointed out that he would really like to spend more time on these businesses but he needs to do God's work first. Clearly he has made up his mind what is more important to him, but at the same time he also reguarly faces pulls in other ways. I'm sure it is not an enjoyable situation to be in to watch your family's businesses slowly fall apart while not being able to do much to stop it.

Anyways, that was quick summary of our trip. A nice getaway and a great chance to see more of the country.