Full circle

The rains have been earlier and heavier this year so it was only a case of when there would be a call from one of the rural communities in Mazabuka requesting disaster relief support. Last year we did not visit Manyoonyo until March but on Friday the Chairperson of the community called the District Commissioner asking for assistance. A team of five of us jumped into a 4x4 from the Department of Agriculture (picking up last year’s wellington boots) and after almost two hours of driving along roads which went from being rutted and bumpy at first, then slippery and muddy, to eventually just huge puddles of water and mud, we arrived in Manyoonyo.

Despite the heavy rains this year the flooding so far appears to have been the result of man’s own making. Sometime in 2010 a team of engineers starting building a main and a number of minor canals – the job has so far not been completed, nor did the team consider what impact these new canals might have when it rains. The main canal is acting like a dam, where previously water could disperse over the land now a large lake has appeared because the water has nowhere to go. The result is that tens of hectares of maize crop has been drowned, and therefore destroyed, and the likelihood that peoples’ homes will collapse as the flooding continues. Fighting has broken out between farmers whose crops are submerged by the water and others that have benefited from the canal like dam protecting their crops. Basically a mess and you cannot feel but sorry for the farmers and the rest of the community. The water levels in the toilet blocks at the local school are also close to ground level; any overflow would lead to effluent mixing with flood water. So we spent the day walking around the community, sympathising with the people we met, noting down all the problems and their grievances, offering (little pieces of) advice and promising action. The DC had a report by the following day. I hope that the recommendations are acted on.

Out in the fields

“Just turn right, there” Teddy said as he directed the car to head into a grassy, potentially swampy, field with no apparent path in view. Today Marco took us to meet a sweet, charming old lady called Eusabia (70+ which is pretty remarkable in Zambia) who had been his cleaner, cook and surrogate mother/grandmother when he had spent two years living in a rural community called Chikuni; a village around 90 minutes south of Mazabuka. She is also Teddy’s mother-in-law and the guard at Marco’s home. The cluster of four homes (1-2 room buildings) and other constructions to keep goats, pigs and chickens were in the middle of nowhere, and surrounded by fields of maize. An accurate reflection of rural life in Zambia, though the family with their crops and animals are probably in a better situation than many others. Our visit was being honoured by the slaughtering of one of the family’s goats for lunch. Before the meal Teddy proudly showed us some the crops that he had planted, whilst Marco and Lucia (switching on their work, agriculture brains) gave him marks out of ten for his efforts. The goat was served alongside nshima, onions, relish and green vegetables; simple but tasty. In return we handed over a few provisions with promises of further support if asked for. Despite some of the frustrations of working here, the welcome, warmth and friendship offered by the people that I meet makes me forget those troubles.

Back down to earth

The magical world of Zanzibar is a fading memory, as back in Maz life continues with a few bumps and hiccups along the way . . . This week has seen a few power cuts (always at the wrong time i.e. when we want to cook dinner) with the threat of more, and longer ones, on the way. It is raining cats and dogs too, bucket loads of water is falling from the sky as the road outside our house becomes a muddy, boggy mess yet we even had a water shortage on one day! Whilst back at work . . . our funding has arrived but only what the organisation was meant to receive up until September last year. So the rest of last year’s money is still missing along with the funding for the first quarter of 2011; messy and frustrating to put it politely.  The move to the new office space has therefore stalled.  The Boma – the district HQ where our office is based – could also be described as a mess. The smell of bat shit has returned as a nearby office has removed a huge pile from its roof and just dumped it outside.  Chickens also run amuck, clucking around through the office corridors. Naively I hoped things would be a bit different but so far more of the same. Welcome back.

Bemba meal

As a sort of welcome back a Mazabuka friend invited us around to her house for a Bemba meal a few days after we had returned from Zanzibar. There are at least 16 major cultural groupings (but more than 72 different languages and dialects spoken) in Zambia. I reside in the Southern Province where Tonga is the dominant tribe or grouping. The Bemba tribe, which this friend Victoria originates from, is mainly from the northern and north eastern parts of the country. In contrast to the culinary delights of the fresh fish, seafood, fruit and juices of our holiday this was a different, more basic meal. It felt more African to me. We had nshima (a thick cooked porridge made from ground maize), liver, tomato relish, pounded groundnuts mashed with leaves, okra, beans, kapenta (sardine like and sized fish) and fried caterpillars (which taste more like charcoal that any insect). To drink Victoria had made Munkoyo, also brewed from maize, and when we had it was non-alcoholic; a few days left to ferment and it would have been very different.

Back on the Tazara train

Throughout our Zanzibar trip we had remained undecided or did not really want to think about how we would make it back to Zambia. The plane was the quickest option but the prices were just too much (US$ 350+). The bus was the cheapest and quicker than the train but that speed was part of the problem. A friend who left before us from Zanzibar warned us by text that “the bus is a nightmare, do not get it”. We returned to the train station in Dar and pleaded with the ticket seller for any available seats on the next train. At one stage third class seemed like the only option but then she kindly squeezed us into a second class compartment (sleeps six people) along with two young Tanzanian boys and another man. So a bit like Groundhog Day we found ourselves back on the Tazara train doing all the same things again (reading, scrabble, wandering minds . . . ). This time the express train only arrived six hours late. Happy days.

New Year in Nungwi

On New Year’s Eve we headed to the north of the island, and Nungwi, which is much busier with more lodges and lots more people. The tide is also different as in Bwejuu it was only really possible to swim early to late because the sea would disappear for hundreds of metres during the day. Whereas in Nungwi there was virtually no tide so at any time of the day it took only a minute to walk from our lodge to reach the warm bluey ocean. For New Year everyone seemed to head to one of the largest lodges that was holding ‘the’ big party. We danced on the sand, enjoyed the fireworks at midnight and crawled into bed in the early hours; the following day was definitely a time for reading on the beach and swimming when the sun became too hot. Our last full day in Zanzibar was also the best one for snorkelling. A boat took around two hours to reach a small island just off the northern part of Zanzibar and upon jumping into the sea we were surrounded by thousands of fish. They were everywhere in all shapes, sizes and colours. There were plenty of jellyfish took which at times felt like your body was constantly being pricked by a needle but this did not take away from the enjoyment of seeing the fish. The starfish were big and colourful. For me the sleek, black and yellow striped fish shaped like arrows were my favourite. On the journey back we ate freshly caught tuna, baked on the braii whilst we were snorkelling. None of us wanted to leave.