Musungoed in Mazabuka

So the weird and wonderful world of Zambia continues to amuse me. Last weekend was a long 4 day weekend to celebrate heroes day (not super heroes so no dressing up). To take advantage of this a Zambian friend and I went away to Kafue for a party by the river and then on to Mazabuka to meet some family and friends and see what rural life in Zambia is like.

In true Zambian style we left late for our trip and therefore all of the large ‘luxury’ coaches had gone. I think my face was a picture when I realised that either the trip is cancelled or we go on a dodgy death defying blue bus holding  a ludicrous amount of people. Before getting on the bus I walked around it and kicked the tyres to check they were actually inflated. We all squish in and we are off. It seems that the same routine follows on long distance journeys as the short ones in Lusaka. People just stand at the side of the road and are picked up along route with various random items with them like bags of coal or bamboo sticks. We finally arrive and our destination and my poor English bottom somewhat bruised from the unkind seat.

There was a party by the river and lots of dancing and merriment before heading off to a nightclub in the town. It was like the first time I went out in Lusaka repeating itself all over again with people just staring at me the whole time as if I had two heads. After a while this bored me along with various ludicrous offers so we left and went to our motel. Yes people Motel. I have never stayed anywhere so revolting in my entire life. I did not sleep all night for fear of the skin infections I was contracting just by making contact with the bed sheets. The next morning I went into the bathroom to find a menagerie of insects including a huge spider and a couple of roaches which seemed as big as my head. I made the educated decision that I would be cleaner if I did not wash. I am not sure what I expected for £12 a night..... We vacated the dermatology nightmare to stand at the side of the road and be picked up by another death defying bus.

On arrival in Mazabuka we head to the area where my friend grew up and met their two brothers and wives in their family home. My only challenge was to avoid the offers of food so I repeatedly said how full I was from the lunch we had just eaten and my cunning plan seemed to work.

We walked around the compound going to various houses, all made of cement with metal roofs. In each house I was always offered a seat even if no one else sat down and it would appear I was the only one who thought it was ludicrously hot. Some of the family members can not speak English so there was lots of conversations in Nyanja. Those who did speak English asked me lots of questions, particularly shocked and horrified by our English weather. When we left one house to go to the next we would be escorted through the compound, half the time with someone wanting to carry my bag with me. Children were running up behind us, making me feel like the pied piper, shouting musungo and various other things, my favourite being ‘ We are going to eat you alive’. Having high fived about one hundred mini hands I felt like a larger less attractive Angelian Jolie and a little embarrassed by all the attention.

After about 4 hours, 10 kilometres walked, endless glasses of water and conversations I could not understand and with 4 more relatives to see before we were done I decided I would sneak off and have a smoke. Here in Zambia women are really frowned upon for smoking so I made out I was going to make a call and sneak off. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a musungo to hide in a compound? I stood behind a small outhouse before realising it was a toilet and someone was peering at me through a hole in the wall whilst taking a dump.

We finally arrive back at the brothers house and whilst the men stand outside drinking the women are expected to stay inside cooking. I had a lesson in making nshima (it tastes like colourless playdough but is the dish of choice here). There was only one cooking ring on the hob so everything had to be made separately and took about three hours.  I was quizzed further by the women whilst I amused them with my lack of upper body strength and inability to paddle nshima. In a quiet moment I managed to smuggle a beer and some cigarettes and head out the back for a moment to myself. Although only 7pm it was pitch black and I managed to fall into the mud gutter with all of the waste water. Covered from head to toe in shitty water with panic rising as to how I was going to go back inside subtly I decided my only option was to chain smoke......Jeans rolled up to hide the mud stains and a quick top change ‘because I was cold’ and you almost would not know what had happened other than the smell coming from me.

Dinner was finally served at 9pm. As the guest of honour and due to my, er, ‘allergy’ to nshima I was served rice and steak and was given a knife and fork to my relief. Everyone else is enjoying eating with their hands whilst I tried to cut into my steak to no avail. I finally concede and pick up my steak with my hands much to the merriment of my hosts.

Residing in a nicer b and b recommended by a VSO volunteer who had lived in Mazabuka I slept well until 5am when a cockerel started his morning calls. Seriously what kind of hotel has a bloody cockerel. We leave Mazabuka in the morning this time travelling in a car with 6 other random people all paying £5 for the 2 hour return journey.

On arrival in Lusaka I headed to a nice cafe to feel some sense of normality and to regale my friend with my tales of rural life. On route there I see a large Alsatian running towards me. In total fear I grab the person nearest to me and demand they protect me. The chap in question looked as terrified as I do when random men accost you on the side of the road and once my fear subsided I found this amusing. He escorted me to my destination with said dog walking a few meters behind at all times.

So this blog’s instalment of national news was heard at full volume on the radio during my bus ride to work. A man provided 5 goats as a dowry for his brides family. On the morning of the wedding one of the goats died so the wedding was cancelled.