This Isn't Zambia

 This isn’t Zambia

The Creator made her gold. Solid gold. She was pure, beautiful, endowed with aesthetic appeal. We loved her, it was a wonderful feeling to belong to her. We called her home.

The spirit of Ubuntu reigned. We operated in concert and sung her anthem with a reverberation of a genuine sense of belonging. We stood definitely proud and wonderfully free.

But, her beauty lured some. Her healthy face, succulent and full breasts made them lust after her. They joined us as we praised her; they sung so beautifully, we were sold.

“They must have good intentions…”

And just like that, we let them in.

But alas, they raped, defiled, mutilated, and harassed our once virgin beauty. She was left broken and bare without the sparkle of health.

This isn’t Zambia.

Our once beautiful home has been turned into a painful desert, with nothing but weeds, twigs, bushes and shrubs.

The air is laden with corruption, disrespect for rule of law, disregard for human rights. There is freedom of expression, improperly so-called but no freedom after expression. There is a miasma of barbarism, crimes against humanity, cruelty and insensitivity.

The homeless have their shacks taken away; the orphans have their parents taken away still. Yes, even the little they have is taken away. The poor get poorer while the rich get richer.

Propaganda is rampant. Black is made to pass off as white? This isn’t Zambia.

We are made to beg for what is rightfully ours because selfishness has crept into our hearts. The ones meant to protect, hurt and kill instead. The lighthouse is covered by storms so that it fails to give light to the poor wayfarer.

The young who will be the leaders of tomorrow are mercilessly taken away for airing out their grievances.

One day, they committed a huge crime. They took away an innocent heroine who was a victim of circumstances. Her blood cries out from the ground. It demands justice. In a land so free, or so they say, no one should never have to beg for dear life.

Was Zambia at war? Did we have an intruder sent to disturb peace? Was she an enemy? Hell no, why then did she have to die a martyr’s death at the hands of the chosen protectors? This isn’t Zambia.

‘Stand and sing of Zambia, proud and free?” proud of what? Free from what? The caged bird doesn’t sing of freedom. Landlocked in spiritual, political, social, economic and religious poverty; hiding behind a religious garb to cover our sins and cowardice.

The flag that once gave us pride makes us shudder.

The green that once stood for our resources has turned brown due to the change in the intellectual climate. The red that stood for the blood of our freedom fighters now stands for the innocent souls that have died at the hands of the so-called protectors!

The eagle doesn’t fly anymore; it’s dancing with chickens.

The Ubuntu in the black color is gone!

Our selfishness and short-sightedness has ruined us; our virgin damsel is ruined all because we couldn’t distinguish between love and lust. This isn’t Zambia.

This is not a political agenda; it’s a moral cry for social justice!

We have lost our beloved! The image we have now is not Zambia. It may look like it, it may even smell like it but this isn’t Zambia!

Our beloved is lost… but we must fight to restore whatever has remained; try and give her beauty for ashes.

We are in a mess but definitely not out of the Creator's mercy.

This isn’t Zambia, but it can be.

My Lover, My Friend

He was in my circle and we were friends, good friends, maybe even best friends. We met through a mutual friend and quickly grew closer than “a brother.” There were times when I considered him as more than that but he was way better as a friend. Well, they say marry your lover and your friend but right now he was just a friend, not too sure about lover.

I helped him choose his girlfriends, gave ideas on how to sustain the relationship but when it failed as all others did, I was there, helping to pick up the pieces. I let him cry on my shoulder, I let him keep me up at night because he wanted to talk to someone. Somehow, I felt the resurgence of my feelings but I thought myself too strong to handle it and control it.

And so we continued spending more time together; I was helping him through the break up after all. We went shopping together, had ice cream, watched movies or played chess. He was so happy, and that made me happy.

People eventually started asking about us.

“We are just friends,” I responded, but deep down I hoped we weren’t.

One day, we decided to talk.

“I seem to have a way of ruining good things, don’t I?” he asked.

“Well, you know the song… ‘If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life…’”

“’Never make a pretty woman your wife…’ haha. Well, are you saying I’m miserable because I go for the pretty ones?”

“Just look at her. She’s drop dead gorgeous. You know, I wonder, what really went wrong?

“Gorgeous she was. She was also very caring, loving and all that. It is just that we were incompatible on a number of things and before you say it, I knew all this before we started dating. I just hoped that the more we knew each other, the easier it would get. Clearly not and here we are!”

“So what would you rather have, a trophy wife or peace of mind?”

“I want both.”

“No you can’t have both; well, you can but it’s rare.”

“It’s rare, but very possible.” He said the last line with an air of flirtation and leaned in. My head was hot, I pulled back.

“So which one do you think you are?”

“This is not about me.”

“Which one do you think you are?”

“You know what…”

“WHICH ONE ARE YOU?”

He wore a serious face as he asked the same question for the third time. I could feel myself getting emotional and tears almost dropping. This was a defining moment.

“None... well at least for you.”

“There! You are doing it again. Downgrading yourself and thinking you are not good enough…”

“Well, do you blame me? You make it so impossible for me to feel good about myself. I am both to someone else, or even one to another but I’m none to you. None.”

“Well, I never said that.”

“Then why haven’t you…? You know what, never mind. Stop thinking with your emotions.”

“I know you will pin this on my emotional imbalance but trust me, I say this with a sober mind. You are the trophy, the peace of mind. Sometimes I wonder where we would be if I chose to let what I feel have free rein.”

“What do you mean?”

He drew in and fixed his eyes on mine. I felt hot again.

“Well, maybe this is not the right time for this discussion but just know that I have always had you as a friend, but something within me has wanted you as a lover too.”

There it was. He said what I had wished for all this time. There it was!”

***

I see the picture of that beautiful day every day in our living room, hanging next to our wedding frame. My friend had become my lover. Everything had happened as I had imagined. I found love, true love; love that made me walk down the aisle and make a vow to be a lover and friend for all seasons.

I found my beloved!