By Roxanne Reid
Zambia is a riot of colour, bicycles and smiling people. It’s a medley of small shops with engaging names. And its roads aren’t nearly as bad as some people would have you believe.
Zambia is a riot of colour, bicycles and smiling people. It’s a medley of small shops with engaging names. And its roads aren’t nearly as bad as some people would have you believe.
We entered Zambia from the Caprivi region of Namibia, so the village architecture continued without much change from what we’d seen there – the tree-branch skeleton, filled with globs of mud and topped with thatch.
Every now and again we saw a village with a shopping centre consisting of faded, ramshackle shops with names like Second Chance Grocery, Happy Investment (wouldn’t you invest in that?), Young Don Barbershop, Promising Point Bar or the Last Hope Auto Shop. There were signs of the religious underpinnings of the Zambian people in shops with names like Shower of Blessing, the God Bless Shop and the Blessed Grocery. And there were indications of foreign influence in the China shops, a Yaweh Pharmacy and a Moosa’s Grocery. But my all-time favourite was Where God Says Yes Barber.
Every now and again we saw a village with a shopping centre consisting of faded, ramshackle shops with names like Second Chance Grocery, Happy Investment (wouldn’t you invest in that?), Young Don Barbershop, Promising Point Bar or the Last Hope Auto Shop. There were signs of the religious underpinnings of the Zambian people in shops with names like Shower of Blessing, the God Bless Shop and the Blessed Grocery. And there were indications of foreign influence in the China shops, a Yaweh Pharmacy and a Moosa’s Grocery. But my all-time favourite was Where God Says Yes Barber.
Dotted throughout the countryside are small patches of cabbages, cotton, maize or sweet potatoes, whatever people can coax from the soil. Along the rural roadside, stalls display large enamel dishes piled high with tomatoes or purple sweet potatoes; others offer pumpkins, or basketry, or wooden chairs and even beds. No matter how poor people are, they seem to be trying to make a plan to earn some cash, no matter how small their plot of land or how many hours it takes to ply what skill they have.
Women here carry their babies wrapped in a chitenge on their side, rather than on their backs. (A chitenge is a bit like a kikoi or sarong and a fashion essential in Zambia). It seems nicer that way for the little ones, who get to see mom’s face occasionally, instead of just her back. Many women seem keen on high-fashion in the hair department too; even in the rural areas we often saw braids of endless variation, wigs, weaves or straightened hair, anything to express their sense of style.
Bicycle repair shop
Bicycles and beer
It wasn’t unusual to see a woman sitting side-saddle on the back of a bicycle ‘taxi’, a chitenge-wrapped baby on her hip. In Zambia the bicycle is king, and there are thousands of them. Simple black bikes of the sort you don’t see in South African cities anymore – no gears, a bell on the handlebars and a mirror so you can see what’s coming up behind you. It makes the perfect transport, lightening the load, speeding up your journey.
Many bikes have homemade baskets about three-feet wide on their back carriers. One might be filled with a fat black pig, another with clothes of all colours, obviously going to a stall somewhere to be sold. You might also see a bike strapped with ten or more empty 25-litre plastic drums, on its way to collect water from the village pump, or someone pushing a bike loaded with four or five newly filled drums up a steep hill in the heat of the day.
It wasn’t unusual to see a woman sitting side-saddle on the back of a bicycle ‘taxi’, a chitenge-wrapped baby on her hip. In Zambia the bicycle is king, and there are thousands of them. Simple black bikes of the sort you don’t see in South African cities anymore – no gears, a bell on the handlebars and a mirror so you can see what’s coming up behind you. It makes the perfect transport, lightening the load, speeding up your journey.
Many bikes have homemade baskets about three-feet wide on their back carriers. One might be filled with a fat black pig, another with clothes of all colours, obviously going to a stall somewhere to be sold. You might also see a bike strapped with ten or more empty 25-litre plastic drums, on its way to collect water from the village pump, or someone pushing a bike loaded with four or five newly filled drums up a steep hill in the heat of the day.
Mosi beer is everywhere too, made from maize instead of barley. We liked it a lot, not gassy, a bit like Millers but less sweet, only 4% alcohol. And we succumbed to Mazoe orange juice made in the citrus district of Ndola; it tasted better – more real orange – than any orange squash I’ve ever had at home. We snatched a few bottles to bring home with us and a Zimbabwean friend’s eyes sparkled at the sight of it, a remembered treat from days gone by.
If bicycles, Mosi and Mazoe are pure Zambia, so too are power cuts, predictably unpredictable. In our fortnight in Zambia, we experienced five. Twice, it meant we couldn’t get fuel in a town we were passing through because the pumps weren’t working. Luckily we could make it to the next town, but the lesson is that it’s always a good idea to fill up whenever you can. Don’t wait till you’re low on fuel. If you limp into a town on your last dregs of fuel and there’s no power at the pumps, you’re just going to have to make like the locals and wait it out – usually for an hour or two.
But don’t worry, this is Africa, truly Africa, and there’s plenty of time.
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If bicycles, Mosi and Mazoe are pure Zambia, so too are power cuts, predictably unpredictable. In our fortnight in Zambia, we experienced five. Twice, it meant we couldn’t get fuel in a town we were passing through because the pumps weren’t working. Luckily we could make it to the next town, but the lesson is that it’s always a good idea to fill up whenever you can. Don’t wait till you’re low on fuel. If you limp into a town on your last dregs of fuel and there’s no power at the pumps, you’re just going to have to make like the locals and wait it out – usually for an hour or two.
But don’t worry, this is Africa, truly Africa, and there’s plenty of time.
Like it? Pin this image!
More about Zambia
Copyright © Roxanne Reid - No words or photographs on this site may be used without permission from roxannereid.co.za
Copyright © Roxanne Reid - No words or photographs on this site may be used without permission from roxannereid.co.za
