Learning to love dislikable Lusaka

Almost every backpacker I meet on my travels seems to strongly dislike Zambia's not so charming capital, and found it to be nothing more than a unavoidable stopover on their way to more welcoming destinations. Having lived there for a while, I got to see the other side of this unattractive city.


Walking around Kulima Tower, one of Lusaka's most crowded and chaotic bus stations, you do not actually feel that Zambia is one of the most thinly populated countries in Africa, with only 15 people per square kilometre.

The scene that greets you is crowded, noisy and intense. Lusaka's dusty, crusty roads are filled with swarms of blue minibuses, taxi's and other cars, continuously hooting their way through the never-ending congestion. They push themselves into intersections and roundabouts, seemingly without caring for a dent more or less, and with no respect for the faded zebra crossings.

The pavements are the territory of hundreds of street vendors, selling ear buds, pegs, fried meat, lollies, shower caps, strange looking orange mushrooms, trousers, Ray Ban sunglasses, much needed frozen water and a whole lot of other random things.

All this made my first experience in Lusaka rather overwhelming. I was not sure how I would ever get used to this city and find my way around all its busy corners.

But as I had been told before by people who got to spend more time there, Lusaka has a way of growing on you, and lo and behold, not long after getting there, I had fallen prey to that and Lusaka had worked its way to my heart.

Chawama, the compound where I lived, was no less crowded and chaotic than the city centre, even though it is situated on the outskirts of town and has more of an informal settlement feel. I stayed in a one bedroom house with no electricity or water (see my pre-previous blog) with a lovely family.

There is Bridget, who became my dearest friend and sister, her 1 year old son Nixon, and from time to time her husband, my big brother, who is a truck driver assistant and would sometimes come home for a few days in between his trips to Zimbabwe, Botswana, Malawi and Congo.

My day mostly started at 6:00, with baby Nixon throwing himself at me, wanting to play, or crying to go outside to find his mum, who would already be sweeping the yard. I would wake up, take Nixon outside, then get back and start with my morning reading. After that I would wake up, get charcoal and start a fire on the brazier to boil water for bathing and making morning tea.

Meanwhile I would sweep the house, make the room and go outside to say 'mwauka bwanji' (good morning) to our neighbour who everybody refers to as Ma Chileshe (Chileshe's mum). She is the comedian of the neighbourhood and also became a dear friend to me, who could already make me smile before she even said a word. Still wearing her night wrap on her head, she would already be sharing stories as she washed her dishes, asking if anybody else also heard the thunder striking at 03:00, or what time the neighbourhood prostitute next door came home last night.

By that time my water would be ready and I would take a quick bath in a big basin in the bedroom, as we did not have a bathroom, and I would be off to the community school where I worked. The constant demand for attention and the noise of so many excited children cramped into a small room could be quite exhausting, but I loved spending time with my more than sixty kids, who were so heart-warming despite their visibly tough circumstances.

After roaming around town I would enjoy the long evenings of sitting outside with the other ladies from the neighbourhood. As we prepared food on the charcoal braziers, we would share stories, dream about the houses we hoped to own one day, and advise each other on life's hardships, like alcoholic and cheating husbands, and other issues that were dear to our hearts.

Going through my days like this, I slowly discovered that behind the overwhelming first impression of this city, there was a lot to appreciate. Even though the food was nshima (maize porridge) every day, the endless variety of vegetables that we ate it with brought happiness to my vegetarian heart. Pumpkin leaves, sweet potato leaves, rape, bondwe, okra, impwa and lumanda to just name a few, often made into a delicious relish, mixed with pounded peanut flour.

No matter how dislikable Lusaka had seemed at first sight, it eventually became home to me. Even at the crowded bus station I learned to find my way. The conductors, who can be quite rough and intimidating, now know me, and walk me to the Chawama buses with a smile. You gotta love it :)