Arrived this morning in Lusaka, the capital of Zambia, on the overnight bus from Livingstone. This is one of Africa’s more repellent capital cities, a dirty sprawling urban industrial wasteland with no redeeming qualities. A day spent here is about 8 hours too long. But I managed to get out to a wildlife sanctuary just on the outskirts called Munda Wanga. I had been in email contact with the management, inquirying about a volunteer position there. I took a tour of the place and quickly realized it had seen better days. They had no rehabilitation programs to re-release healthy animals back to the wild. Many of the animals, including an American black bear and a Bengal tiger, were rejects from the western circus circuit. They looked tragically out of place. They had dutifully served their useful life and were now unceremoniously dumped into anonymity in Africa, retired without benefits. A young elephant was there alone which had been found at 2 weeks old suckling from its dead mother. Most disturbing was the Vervet monkey, which was rescued after being used as bait during dogfights in Israel. They offered me a job here but I declined. There isn’t much I can do here.
As a honky in Africa, there’s nowhere to hide. It’s nearly impossible to keep a low profile. I stick out like a sore albino thumb on a black hand, whip cream on a chocolate sundae. The masses here have been taught, usually by their parents or school teachers, that all white people are rich and that if you just ask them, they’ll probably give you money. Many young children, as early as age 4, approach me and robotically say “gimme mahney”, “hallo schoolpen”, or “pleez dollahs”. Just once I’d like to take a moment to teach one young buck to refine his approach. Convince him that if he just adds a bit more to the request, he’d be more likely to receive some cold cash. “Try saying, ‘give me money you rich white pig.’” I’d pay to see the look on some poor French woman’s face.
At times, I feel like a mobile ATM machine, camouflaged as a human. Just a potential source of money to be milked. Some locals approach me with a genuine desire to befriend a traveller. Some just want to be seen talking with a white man, even just a simple acknowledgement, perhaps to boost their immediate social status. Some just stop & stare, as if I’m an undiscovered alien species. But most begin the conversation politely enough and it always ends in some disguised request for money. It’s exhausting as it usually happens relentlessly over the course of a given day. It’s unfortunate cause I find myself putting my auto-shield up to divert any attempts at my shillings. I get snappy and dismissive too quickly and I often, inadvertently, filter out the good guys. I have found myself apologizing to some which I have mistakenly insulted or been too hard on. When I reflect back on the days interactions, I often feel guilty about my lack of patience. The fact is, these are just poor people looking, however desperately, for any possible opportunity to improve their lot. Sometimes, I make the mistake of interpreting their engagement of me as a personal attack, a disrespectful assumption on my part. It’s a delicate balance which I need to improve my skills on.
The current “scandal de jour” here in Zambia involves the deputy Minister of Health. The ministry was recently donated a large medical aid shipment from America which included anti-retro viral drugs to combat HIV. The deputy minister decided it was a good idea to sell those designer drugs to a country (unnamed in the local media) which paid market price for them. He then used some of that money to buy black market knock-offs of ARV from Bulgaria at bargain prices and distributed those drugs to the citizens of Zambia. Of course, he pocketed the difference and paid his strategically placed political friends to shelter him from any inquiries. The issue blew up in his face, as the President of the country was caught in numerous lies during testimony of protecting the minister from any prosecution. Endless corrosive corruption continues to rust away the engine of African politics.
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