Kelvin Kachingwe
20 March 2003
opinion
ON a standard Zambian map, you will hardly notice the location of Mayukwayukwa refugee settlement camp.
It is probably just a tiny dot, not even in bold cartography, and yet it is part of a sprawling hinterland nearly 163 square kilometres harbouring almost 53 villages.
With an estimated population of 22,000 people and 99 per cent of whom are Angolans, Mayukwayukwa is in fact, one of the oldest refugee settlements in Africa.
The refuge was established in 1966, and originally meant to accommodate about 4,000 Angolan refugees.
But because of renewed fighting in Angola in October 1999, a new influx of refugees of about 17,000 arrived at the camp.
But on this trip, we were supposed to spend a night in Kaoma town, one of the hot spots in Western Province, before proceeding to the settlement the following morning.
'Hot-spot' for us because of the Lozi-Nkoya wrangles which have permeated the locality for more than six decades.
With this realisation, we were inclined for an update on current happenings.
Personally, all I knew was that, Prince Mwanawina, half brother of the then Paramount Chief Yeta III was sent to Mankoya to oversee tax collection.
But when Mwanawina started posing as a chief, Chief Mutondo of the Nkoya vehemently protested to the district commissioner. But unfortunately, Mutondo was poisoned in 1943 and died.
Later, Chief Mutondo's son who inherited the throne, was exiled to Kalabo for 10 years for agitating for the removal of Mwanawina from Nailele.
Armed with that bit of information. I was eager to reach Kaoma on time, if not ahead, so as to get to learn the lifestyle of the local inhabitants.
But as misfortune would have it, the Mumbwa road did not help our crew which comprised only journalists.
Our driver was getting frustrated because of the bumpy and ragged road.
A Prado vehicle was availed to us by the United Nations High Commissioner of Refugees (UNHCR), and thus were confident of making it to Kaoma before 18:30 hours, having started off at about 14:00 hours. How wrong!
The pot-holes, or sorry the 'ditches' on Mumbwa road did not help our vehicle.
What we needed probably was a high-base four-wheel drive vehicle with broad wheels.
But even with that, there was simply no guarantee of a comfortable ride. Passengers were still bound to bang their heads against the roof of the car on rough terrain.
We were relieved when we got through the impassable road just after a few kilometres away from Mumbwa.
But still, the pedestrians we met on the way - from Mumbwa to Kaoma, did not help us.
They seemed to have much to think about than the on-rushing vehicles. Our driver kept on sounding the horn of the vehicle at pedestrians who cared less about the speed of the vehicle and its effect, should it come in contact with them.
But like in journalism, there are two fundamentals you observe when driving - speed and accuracy.
However, should these two be in conflict, then accuracy must always come first. In my perception that is what our driver did, but that meant arriving in Kaoma a little bit late.
Having started off from Lusaka at about 14:00 hours and made a few stop overs at which we were treated to 'some hard flesh' village chicken, we found ourselves in the Kafue National Park at around 17:00 hours.
Our plan was to spend about an hour in the park. One crew member said 17:00 hours was the best time for game viewing.
I could not wait to see some of the game, having only been exposed to Monkey Fountain Zoo in Ndola and Munda Wanga in Lusaka before.
But unfortunately, we found ourselves facing an elephant, right in the middle of the road!.
One crew member, whose knowledge of Western Province had proved valuable on this trip suggested we wait.
But again, he told us, we should be prepared to wait for close to 25 minutes.
This did not seem a good suggestion to the driver who instead suggested that he puts the vehicle on high speed while he revved it towards the elephant.
No, not a good idea we thought. Behind us, was a Habitat for Humanity team and a CR Carrier Bus.
The CR Bus driver lighted a cloth thinking this will scare away the elephant, but all in vain.
However, we were relieved to see a speeding truck and trailer from the opposite direction.
No sooner was the truck nearing the eleph ant than the Habitat for Humanity vehicle sped off followed by us.
In the meantime, we had lost a valuable 10 minutes trying to elude the wild animal.
After an hour or so, we were out of the game park, but the task of dealing with pedestrians who knew little, if anything, about road safety continued.
Instead of them dodging the vehicle, it was us dodging them. We concentrated on listening to Shatel's second album Unbreakable which we all agreed, we had overplayed, but did not mind doing so again, for it was the only tape we had apart from Oliver Mtukudzi's two other albums.
Later in Kaoma, I was surprised to learn just how popular the singing duet are in the western countryside of Zambia.
Almost all the joints were playing Shatel, thanks to the Lozi influence by Saboi Imboela on Unbreakable.
But then, how about the criticisms that Shatel always gets in Lusaka, I wondered. Show after show, fans complain of how the singing duet are unable to perform live.
Before we could realise it, we were already in Kaoma. The only minus was that we were unable to agree on the Guest House to book.
Others settled for a popular guest house which women in our company, however, turned down citing lack of proper hygiene.
But one crew member who knew about the Kaoma nightlife insisted on this guest house being an ideal place since it was centrally located.
He said his satellite would be well placed to operate from there than in the interior.
I agreed but for some reason, found myself in some guest house right in the interior of Kaoma. Not ideal for a journalist, particularly for a features writer!.
The guest house was nowhere near what a household in one of the shanty townships of Lusaka contains.
There was no kitchen to talk about, let alone a television set. A single bed was covered with plastics which were being used as bed sheets.
But then this is simply the best in this part of the country. You cannot ask for anything better.
In the night, we found many patrons speaking Nyanja, and I half suspected they were from Lusaka.
True to my suspicion, after talking to them, I discovered that some of them were from Lilayi and Woodlands Extension. Lusakans are full of escapades, I thought.
They had come to visit their relatives en route to attend the Kuomboka ceremony due next month, so they told me.
Later in the night, I was relieved to discover that I could communicate using either my incorrect Nyanja or better still, English.
This was a great relief, especially that I did not know a single word in Lozi except something like 'kiwena fela nilata' thanks to local pop Idol Tasila Mwale's song!.
In the morning, we were on our way to Mayukwayukwa, a distance of about 105 km from Kaoma town and about 505 km from Lusaka, which I was told posed many travel problems during the rainy season.
The World Food Programme (WFP) often have their food trucks getting stuck on the Kaoma-Lukulu road.
Fortunately for us, we were able to get there without much ado as William Shakespeare would say, although we knew that if our vehicle could talk, it was bound to complain about the landscapes we had forced it to pass through.
At the settlement, we were greeted with cheers of joy from the refugees who seemed not to have any problems at all.
They had sufficient food, their children were in school, they had a clinic, hammer mills and cows. These are things some families in the shantys of Lusaka can only dream about.
Thanks to the implementing partners in sanitation, health, water, food, education, agriculture and community development.
But I asked myself as to what dreams they have as refugees. Do the children have a dream to one day become a lawyer, medical practitioner or a journalist like me? Are they not afraid of an attack from some enemy combatants?
Are they aware of who the new minister of Homes Affairs is or the current scenario at the United Nations regarding Iraq?
But then, at this time, I was already too exhausted to contemplate further on these issues, having covered a distance of 610 km in total, and a return trip still awaiting.
But the experience on this trip was necessary, and the happenings worth recounting. I cannot wait to go back!
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