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AMASHIWI

"Culture is the heritage of us all. some may be more interested than others in the treasures of the past, but no one can fail to take a pride in his country's participation in the story of mankind, as represented in carvings, sculpture, music, paintings and the other arts. And there is a personal commitment to this, for no man can really say he is alone: we are all joined through our identity, with the cultures which are part of the mainstream of life"
- Simon Kapwepwe, Zambian Independence Freedom Fighter

"Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm" - Winston Churchill

"Try to be the rainbow in someone else's cloud" - Maya Angelou

"Your time is limited so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinion drown out your inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition" - Steve Jobs








Showing posts with label Grrrrrr :(. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grrrrrr :(. Show all posts

Monday, 30 October 2017

Laughter is not always the best medicine



When I saw this I didn't laugh. One, because the joke was not that funny - it was really predictable and has been told by many an African before this comedian. More importantly, it was a poor use of satire, one of my favourite tools we as humans have to communicate really serious issues in a disarming, more accessible way. I don't think when people watched this they thought goodness, I think that Africa is facing another huge preventable health problem, I think they thought this is so true - it's actually our mothers, grandmothers and matriarchs who have always been the problem. The argument was not strong enough and was poorly presented. It was dangerously dismissive of how this profound change in the way we eat can truly affect us. Worse, globally we have been idly seeing the effects for decades, so we here in Africa are literally following suit with our eyes wide open!

Recently there has been a huge explosion of malls and global fast food restaurants have scrambled to have outlets in them. The thing is, because we have heard about the strict standards these brands tend to have, we feel like we have hit a milestone in our development. In the late 90s and early 2000s only South African chains were opening up in Zambia. We now are worthy of such establishments and we find it cool to go eat and be seen there. I wonder how we will react when Micky D's finally comes to town as they are arguably the pickiest when it comes to granting franchise licences as they are finicky about brand consistency, standards and quality control.  We now have these companies sponsoring cool events, bringing more to do in Lusaka and making them ever more appealing. Worse part is they organise giveaways in the compounds (shanty towns) which I personally think is irresponsible - you are creating the perfect storm for brand loyalty from the most vulnerable in our society to seek out food that is cheap and addictive, not that nutritious and that could potential lead to health issues they will likely be unable to deal with. We are so focused on the appearance and financial gains of development without really stopping to think about the consequences. 

The growing middle class are excited about their new spending power and they are flocking to buy all the processed products found in the supermarkets in the malls that have flooded our neighbourhoods. I have 3 strip malls between 1 to 5 minutes away from me! It's ridiculous. In the same way we turn our nose up at our traditional grain based flour to make our staple food nshima for the trendier, less nutrious maize because it is white (and prettier than the shades of brown millet, sorghum etc produce), more fashionable and less village, we are doing the same with our food purchases. Why go to the market or grow your own food when you can be spotted at the mall with a trolley full of groceries in plastic bags? We love to be decadent and to show off even if it is to our detriment. We already have been unable to deal with HIV, malaria, TB, cancer and now we are going to further strain our resources by adding obesity and related diseases such as Type 2 diabetes to the list ?! The conversations I have had with doctors and medical professionals over the years scare me. Despite all the campaigns backed by government and development agencies that keep telling us this time we shall conquer, it seems our issues aren't really getting any better and the majority of Zambians are still grosssly under-served by our health resources.

I know a lot of people talk about personal responsibility, common sense and how the overweight and obese should be able to control themselves and exercise, but there are so many studies out there that show that the road to gaining weight is a highly complicated one, and for many one fraught with so many pitfalls as they try to regain control with healthier lifestyles. This issue needs to be treated with compassion and where possible thwarted before it has a chance to embed itself into the culture of a place.  Companies can still make money and be responsible about how they market and label their products.  However I feel that here in Zambia in particular, it may already be too late and we are not equipped with the emotional intelligence coupled with the political will to tackle this next real challenge on our health system. 

I had the most surreal experience with a lady I met through friends at a concert. As we were listening to the music, an obese person stood in front of us causing the lady to express with vitriol how disgusting the person was and how could they let themselves go like that and why was she out in public. I was so taken aback by the unabashed honestly and worse the fact that this lady thought that this wasn't cruel, and that she could freely speak to me like that. I replied that you have no idea why the person has put on that much weight, they are likely to be dealing with something physically, psychologically and/ or emotionally. Rather than judgement, that person has the right to dignified humanity from the world around them. I have heard people callously call children fat off the cuff.  We would rather see the overweight as a sign of wealth and health - being HIV-. Sick and/ or poor people are skinny. I don't think we have the will as citizens to push for change. We unfortunately will not be seeing people lobbying for USD42 million spent on gastric bypass operating equipment or doctor's training, the special ambulances and beds to handle the weight the morbidly obese, the medication... 


I am a really healthy eater. I was brought up that way and naturally gravitate to homegrown and home cooked nutritious food. Even though I spent my first years in the UK, my mother befriended Zambia Airways air hostesses to bring her kapenta (dried sardines). Our protein historically came from lean animal and vegetable proteins.  Fish could be caught fresh daily and dried to last months in the heat before we had refrigeration. It does not require large parties to be enjoyed without wastage. Apenta was one of my first words and to this day, one of my favourite fish dishes to eat.   Mum also found a way to grow beans in the cold Northern English climate so we could have chinkamba (bean leaves) to cook authentic traditional nshima meals.  We always had a garden wherever we lived and we grew things. I remember being proud of growing my own groundnuts (mbalala) and strawberries in my patch as a toddler. In Zambia and Kenya we only bought fruits that weren't growing in the garden. Since I moved back to Zambia in 2011 cashiers and/ or peopel in line behind me at supermarkets comment because I don't buy what the average Zambian purchases when they make the trip. I'm always told "you buy white people things" like broccoli, cauliflower, quinces, parsnips, pomegranate juice or assorted seeds like pumpkin and flaxseed. If you follow me on Instagram you will have seen how I love to post about food grown at the farm in my ancestral village, healthy food bought at stores and how I still eat well when I am travelling and eating out. I don't eat fast food often. When I do it's a guilt-free treat because I only indulge a couple of times a year. 

I'm really passionate about this issue. We are a young population in Zambia and across Africa who are destined to be crippled by so many things before we have a chance to bloom.  So I say if we are going to use satire, let's use it wisely and effectively and regardless, we need to be less dismissive and more proactive about this pandemic which I would wager is likely to become the biggest health crisis across the continent in the next decade.  Though I am the Queen of passion, I don't believe in sticking ones head in the sand or up ones ahem to maintain a sense of optimism in life.  So even though I have painted rather a bleak future, even though collectively we are falling short, I believe if enough individuals stand up and fight, eventually as communties, we can change the way we as society deal with obesity. 


Wednesday, 25 January 2017

Content Single Girl Love Musings: Love. Sex. Marriage. Babies. Part I

Stanford Reunion in Soton with one of my little ones Ahmed
So I start with Love. I believe that God: the energy that rules us all, what ultimately the universe is all about, and what creates (and destroys when at its most twisted), is Love. It is the ultimate ideal in life.  I am a hopeless romantic.  Which is why I am single.  I refuse to settle and all the men out there should be happy because I do not have that most exalted of feminine qualities: a high tolerance for bullshit because you know, he loves me, I know it and that's all that matters of course; no matter how dastardly he is and how abominably he treats me. How people see things is of no import because, in the end, you don't know what really goes on in a relationship unless you are in it.  Yes, I am being facetious. Seriously though, love is not suffering, though you will be tested repeatedly ad infinitum. Love is, at its core, at its most pure, and at its zenith, kind. So why is it set up to make women miserable by duping them into believing that the ultimate goal is to best express this most coveted of human virtues through marriage?! It then is extremely, and in many instances, unavoidably susceptible to metamorphosing into its opposite; the most detrimental of vices. That's how people get their hearts broken, lose their faith in people, in themselves, and in life. People devolve into vindictiveness, disillusionment, meaness and cray cray to misguidedly allay and assuage abysmally.

Recently, I read this article that talked about how married men and single women are the happiest with their situation.  I believe it. Love and marriage are two very different things.  You don't have to be in love to marry, or to make such a contract work. Many who are in love are miserable after they tie the knot and there are those who have spent a lifetime together adoring each other without needing paper to certify their union.  Don't get me wrong, I think the idea of marriage, or without the label: spending a lifetime building, evolving and caring for someone, is beautiful.  It's work though. Everyday. It's an infinite and limitless commitment. Love over a lifetime, whatever form it takes is hard. It's unglamarous. It's unconditional - which means compromise, empathy, humility, faith, tenacity, and evolution are key.  You need grit to keep laying the road to continue the journey, wherever it leads.  When romantic, it's not the wedding, which is a drop in the ocean of moments that you will live through. Neither is it the honeymoon, which is why they talk about the honeymoon period.

Like I eluded to a couple of thoughts ago, Love does not only lead to this contract either.  It is multifaceted and can be expressed in so many ways platonically. It is unlimited in its iterations. There is also beauty in it being finite. Not every Love requires a lifetime to be expressed.  Time is a social construct and a moment can have more meaning than years of perceived bliss. You can do and feel more in a love that has a beginning and an end that one that drags on forever.  See?! Hopelessly romantic.  And it is because of this fact that I am single and I'm sure why many look at me as too idealistic and if I just...but I will not settle. Life is far to short to waste time doing that. Why? Because I have and continue to experience infinitely better love, everyday, in the platonic sphere than I ever have in the romantic, to date.  I will add this is not entirely my or my ex-boyfriends' fault. Those poor men were only acting in a way that was normal and expected.  They followed the script and so did I.  It took me a long time to figure out society sets women up to fail to get what they deserve, because they are led to believe they want certain things.  Patriarchy is Love's anathema. I now have pretty informed ideas of what I want and need.  I have an understanding of how a romantic relationship fits into the tapestry of love already extant in my life,  just haven't gotten round to figuring out how to jumpstart that process because I am a workaholic and I have so many people to care for me. I am not susceptible to grabbing onto anything just so I can feel like I am adored once in a while. I thank the heavens for that.

I have blogged before about how my family and friends are my most treasured possession.  I will above and beyond for them and vice versa.  These are the people I can lean on when times are rough, who do not judge me (or if they do it's from a positive, constructive, loving place).  Even if they disagree with facets of my life or my actions, they agree with me as a package by respecting my choices and allowing for the inherently flawed nature all we humans are burdened with. The male species I tend to attract try to surreptitiously trick me into becoming some sort of trophy.  They try to attack the very core of who I am, the things I am most proud of about myself and what I have achieved, in order to create the idea of me they think I should be. (The more conservative of my family try that tack too. Without tact. Ehk! But I can easily deal with that nonsense.)  There is nothing more painful than the realisation that this person, whom by the very nature of your relationship holds a special place in your social circle, turns out to be your number one enemy.  Whether its not deliberate or insidiously by design, it is heartbreaking. Even though I can see how and why you have acted this way, I am not forgiving because you can choose to rise above it and act authentically lovingly. The long and short of it  is that you actually really don't like me if you are trying so hard to break me and turn me into something else.  Please go and find that person, as that person is clearly not me.  And that is okay.  Why are you trying to force me to be that person and suffer your cruelty even if it is not your intention?! This dynamic is beyond me but anyhoo...

I love me, what I do and how I do it.  The people around the world who care for me already love all of that too.  In knowing this I am pretty confident of this much: romantic Love will never be enough for me to give that all up.  I am not going to be that special someone's everything and leave my friends, my career, my intelligence and my joie de vivre behind. And I don't want to be their everything either. That is an unnecessary and unrealistic set up.  Humans are viscerally social.  Confining them to being social with just one person is just a set up for disaster.  This is when people act up. At the core of it, they are looking to fill the voids that their partner cannot. Whatever the configuration, monogamous or not, heterosexual or otherwise, (I do not judge, do what works for you OPENLY please), it is important to communicate what this Love is and what function it has in your life in relation to all the other Love from family and friends, as well as to the things you like to do and experience.  There is so much in the world: so many people, places, activities, opportunities for growth, stimuli to create, innovate and enjoy in Love. Why we should aspire to reduce the only way to interact with these gifts and experiences through one relationship is ludicrous.  It's creepy too as that is what leads people to do psycho and underhanded things under the banner of romance in the pursuit and name of Love!

I believe that the person you decide to spend a lifetime with should slot in to your network to fulfill a specific, indispensable purpose, not to take over everything and vice versa.  And the reason that married men tend to be happier is they get everything they want, armed with societal norms and pressure, particularly emotionally.  Too many have not  been brought up well and callously disregard the other side in their relationships.  Which is why they even get jealous of their own children taking up their wives' time.  You are going to compete with a helpless baby and get your knickers in bunch, throw tantrums and hissy fits because you aren't always the centre of attention and I'm supposed to respect you?! What kind of Oedipal crazy are women duped into?! You partner ends up being your first child and you are supposed to sleep with him and leave him to head the household as men are more logical, and intelligent and unemotional. WTF?! Society has done a disservice to men by not allowing them to develop into human beings that understand themselves and others emotional needs and has led then to believe they act with logic when they don't. Society has done a disservice to women by saying that bearing the cross is the feminine ideal. That managing male stunted growth makes us martyrs.  That love is suffering and being able to take and shovel poop is our lot in life. I refuse to subscribe to that.

I'd rather enjoy the fact that I am well taken care of by those that I already love.  Most recently that has manifested primarily in: the Beb Gails (baby girls in a Zambian accent) being rocks I can lean on so I can stand tall. Continuing to live with my mother so we can watch over each other and not let our workaholic ways get the better of us. Travelling to the UK to spend Christmas with my younger sister, the love of my life and my number one cheerleader.  Working on self love and treating myself to good food, travel and new clothes. Workationing in Ghana and having an African Stanford reunions with everyone using their skills to build me back up as I do the same for them.  I am about to go to Naija and do the same. I have been housed, fed, loved, pampered, spoilt silly while being challenged, admonished and checked before I wreck myself too.  These people see the best in me and where, and when I can be and do better, they have let me know and are helping me get there.  And they value what I do for them too.  The reason I picked Ahmed to embody this visually is because he travelled for 5 hours from London to Southampton on Christmas Eve to see me for one hour. We hadn't seen each other in seven and a half years.  He then squeezed in another hour by meeting me at Heathrow before my flight.  This is typical of my friends, regardless of gender.  If we are travelling and we can find a way to meet, we do, because we spend many years and even decades between meets and so we make the most of every second.  I have never experienced that kind of dedication from a romantic partner consistently, over a long period of time, to work on and continually cultivate our relationship. Ever. I have been expected to bend over backwards and not get the same in return because I am the problem. They have never understood how my life works or how I operate and express love.  I have been punished for having grown up on 3 continents and lived a great life.  That is not Love. That's some twisted ish I do not want to know about.

So I am happy and content as a single girl, being a problem, around the world, with people who love me unconditionally. I am having a ball unapologetically!  Like I, said I believe God is Love. So I think that it is important to have Love underpin anything and everything that you do in order to honour your faith. I even sleep lovingly and everyone knows how I love my slumber and naperoos.  I don't have to wait for "the One" to do that.  That is just one of the many ways available to humanity to express ourselves and the blessing of life.  The possibility of being able to use that avenue excites me, and because I respect that union, I do not take bonding with someone in that way lightly no matter how fleeting or how long that Love is expressed. Though it troubles many in my life that there isn't a someone special like that in my life, I say to them: it will be when it will be.  In the meantime, I continue to be open to the possibility for that person to join the party so as to manifest Love romantically in a way that I cannot in platonic relationships, while acing it with the amazing people: friends and family I am privileged to have in my life, and sharing love through the work that I do.

I wish you the all the permutations of Love you deserve and I hope that you honour life by sharing the caring everyday, however and whenever you can xo!

To keep up-to-date with this series follow the instructions here. For mini insight-fests, positing and working through stuff, follow me on Instagram.  You can continue this conversation or chat to me about anything and everything on Twitter. To find out how I take action with love professionally, like my new Facebook page!

Thursday, 19 January 2017

Open Diary: NG-ma tales, NGangsta Moves

Last year I explained how my moods and well-being can be described on a spectrum based on the these two extremes: NGangsta and NG-ma. This year, I am determined to be NGansta and move forward with dedication because NG-ma will make sure I take care of myself.  Part of that self care involves writing.  I use my blog as an open diary, a way to vent, hash out things weighing on me, to find meaning in the chaos and beauty in life: from the crazy to the heavenly, the mundane to the extraordinary.  As I expand my ken, change my views and adopt new ways, I hope to elucidate ideas for not only myself, but if I can, for others too.  If my sojourns down the rabbit hole lead others to Wonderland, cool! I really do enjoy helping others while helping myself he he. 

I have been thinking a lot about African, global, societal norms, tradition and culture surrounding love, marriage and babies over the last year.  There has been a surge in weddings and births in my social circles around the world.  Many of them, particularly the women, have posted testimonials about their experiences.  They have also shared interesting articles about these major life milestones too. I have been amazed, entertained, shocked, not surprised, disheartened and encouraged by the conversations that have percolated, over-boiled and simmered perfectly around these issues.  I have found that for the educated, progressive, exposed and or well-travelled of female sex, navigating love, marriage and babies in the current milieu is a minefield.  The current global trend of gender equality would have us believe that all is righted in the world.  The reality is that things are only starting to shift.  Even if your partner at home is understanding, earthlings in general are not.  Many still think these "new" ways, ideas, interpretations and positions are alien.  There are a lot of people on both ends freaking out, and the backlash and fighting is fierce. 

Let me state clearly that gender equality and equity is ultimately about choice.  Allowing for a spectrum.  If you believe in traditional roles, good for you, work with that.  I do not negate your views in choosing to want different, or for feeling that certain ways, beliefs and maxims are derogatory and subjugating.  The point is to agree to disagree and to create space for individual decisions for our collective well-being as humanity. That means going beyond tolerance, but actively allowing expression through manifested understanding, catalysed by validating different ways to do, be and act.  That being said, I have been traumatised by quite an ugly shift in local and global contexts, as patriarchy fights back in reaction to feminist movements gaining new fervour, backing and efficacy.  I have also had very interesting conversations about gender, sexuality, identity, self expression, tradition, modernity and culture that I would like to ponder a little more. This has mostly happened on Twitter, so I would like to delve deeper into these issues in a way that 140 characters disallows.  I need an unlimited canvas to use my paintbrush to paint more detailed portraits.


This is a section of the walls inside
a popular Accra Night club, from the
high ceilings to the floor. So beautiful!
I thought Things on Thursday was a good place to launch, as these be no small tings now. So over the next few weeks and months I'm cutting through the black and white of societal norms and delving into the grey:

Woolgather Wednesday will feature ruminations and illuminations through my Love. Sex. Marriage. Babies. series.

Twit Tuesday will be a hodgepodge of profound nonsense that I have tweeted about that I would like to expound on.

It's going to be awesome possum. I know I'm going to have oodles and poodles of fun doing this. So this Dorothy is taking that tornado out of Kansas and I can't wait to see what lies somewhere over the rainbow... 

For mini insight-fests, positing and working through stuff follow me on Instagram and Twitter. To find out how I take action around these issues publicly, like my new Facebook page!

Tuesday, 4 October 2016

Dios Mio! - How my Deo Became my Salvation

This tweet reminded me of an profoundly nonsensical incident that sent me into a tail spin a couple of months ago:


So in August I started using the male version of my antiperspirant.  Not by choice, but because my body is very finicky and this particular brand is the only one it doesn't react to. Problem is I'm also extremely sensitive to smell.  When I put it on I had the most visceral and adverse reaction to it.  The smell clobbered my senses and sent me into a man-hating stupor.  Seriously!  My sister found it hilarious, but at the time it was traumatic. I can only laugh at myself in retrospect.  The smell is that typical alpha male scent that deodorants tend to have.  That  puerile odor that is supposed to capture the quintessentially male essence.  The one teenagers spray all over their bodies like in that famous brand, that rhymes with fax and was formally known by the name of a type of cat, ads. I felt physically, emotionally and mentally assaulted.  It was nuts! Yes my deodorant had me in conniptions and discombobulated smh...

Eventually the horrendous ordeal made me think about why I had had such a strong and unpleasant reaction to it.  At this point the Zambian election was imminent.  I was on a social media detox because I just couldn't take all the crazy - mostly discourse informed and led by initiatives, speeches and comments of male origin, conjured up to maintain power and oppress in every way, shape and form.  I realised I am done with entertaining that in the slightest. I do not need that in my life, let alone emanating from my armpit! The scent was a trigger to direct me to something much larger. Paradoxically the oppression led to my salvation and enfranchisement.
I choose me! For more visual empowerment
follow me on Instagram. I have been creating
a serious of mini projects using images to grow,
inspire and work through things.

After realising that it was the deodorant but wasn't really about deodorant, I got to thinking about how I could change how I viewed the situation.  Instead of man-bashing, I should continue to empower myself and find a new way of dealing with such assaults for my health.  My new project A.C.E. is all about that so instead of just working it, I needed to keep living it too.  I cannot be baited into a less productive way of dealing with the current gender situation in my country and the world.  For my project to be honest I need to continually and actively do things in my own life to empower myself, and to not let patriarchy and the asinine acts of men affect me so. I cannot allow myself to be sucked into hate because of my environment.  Love must prevail! I must keep the peace and maintain well-being in my life too.

I had already started with things like this:



And plan to continue, as I did after I recovered from this trippy incident, with things like this:

😤😤😤 #mondaymotivation #zambia people it's hot. Stepped out today in shorts and relatives afraid of me being lynched. I only went to @BongoHive, not like I was prancing about town where I know regardless of what is rational I'd be stoned. One thing I do know is I am not asking for it and in no way carry myself so. I'm just regulating my temperature as our weather climbs the 30Cs. I refuse for small minds to cage me into overheating. Why should I have to be correcting for your backwardness and patriarchal oppression? I have said this would be a mission for years. It definitely is now. Started inadvertently last week and what are considered short and disrespectful wardrobe choices (any dress, skirt or shorts above the knee and/or tight) are going to be a mainstay this hot season.  For more start following @aceprojectzed as we are about to launch our first mini project and start conversations about nuance, freedom of expression and respect. #proudlyzambian #africa #mafashio #fashionista #style #activism #thestruggleisreal #aceproject #purplereign #ngosa34 #melanin #thighsforjeaux
A photo posted by Ngosa Whoopi Chungu (@whoops.c) on


I. JUST. CAN'T. ANYMORE! Life is too short to let other people's issues throw you off so. So I choose me. I choose my sanity.  I choose self care.  I choose to fight. I choose to have my frustration ignite a new passion for change.  And together we will win. There is space enough for us to all to be, and do, with respect to one another.  That tweet reminded me that even though the bloviated rhetoric of lesser men tends to be amplified, there are lots of beautiful men out there, and in my life, who prove that there is a way to equality, equity and equanimity without oppression.

To all the real men out there I salute you, and to all the women out there fighting for our right to be, I'm with you sisters xo! I forgive my deodorant, it's not its fault it smells like an idiot. If you want to talk more about this or anything else, tweet me! 

Thursday, 22 September 2016

Tikambe Natulande Part 2

I expressed in Part 1 what a mind*bleep* filming this episode of the vanguard television series produced by Samba Yonga for BBC Media Action was. Even though this post is part of my Things on Thursday series, this is no small thing let me tell you. Are they ever with me ;)?

Youth Counsellor Nancy Mweene and I on set filming our
episode. Photo Credit: PR Girl
I think the most shocking part of the experience for me was the fact that a father felt that it was okay to stick his penis inside his daughter's vagina to teach her about how sex is not to be taken lightly and that she was too young to have intercourse.  That he was able to get aroused in order to penetrate her.  That despite her cries he still went on to rape her.  The despicable act was in no way consensual on her part. That he then ejaculated into his hands so he could mix his sperm with traditional herbs in order to make some juju concoction to rub on her stomach, so if she did have sex, she would get stuck to the dastardly boy who was in cahoots with her, so they could catch them both in the act and reprimand them accordingly! You can't make this kind of crackpot crazy up! I. JUST. CAN'T. As far as I know, the girl did not contract an STD or worse ended up pregnant only to be come the mother/ sister to her brother-incest child! It is pure luck that her once innocent soul was not forced to suffer any more than it already has been burdened with.

I could not express myself quite that bluntly on camera, as Zambia is still in the dark ages. We couldn't even use scientific, technical terms in order to really depict just how heinous a situation this poor young girl was in and what trauma she faced. I am known to not have any brakes, but I was not going to jeopardise the initiative by not finding a way to get this important message out. Her story was more important than any agenda of mine. I was quite annoyed I couldn't quite articulate myself as clearly and as freely  as censorship is a huge part of the problem.  We need to talk openly about sex because clearly we are having it and it was revealed as the Tikambe Natulande season unfolded that children much younger than 10 are experimenting, because we aren't creating safe spaces to chat about this natural and important part of our lives.  This is almost a year since I filmed the episode and I am still shaken, angry and disturbed that this is not a singular case, but there are thousands around the country being disciplined along this spectrum of sexual perversion in the name of tradition and good parenting.  This is not who we are.  We are so lost in Zambia that those with any sort of power abuse it in the most devious and evil ways. We have to do better.  What future do we have if our youth are continuously blighted by the most unnecessary of traumas. Unadulterated, blunt, uncensored truth serum is required to not only be  prescribed, but actually dispensed in bucketloads like Cod Liver Oil. Not teaspoons or tablespoons but bucketloads.  It won't go down well, but it will be good for us.  We just need to suck it up and get on with curing ourselves of this hush hush syndrome that is crippling us.

Here is the episode and you can watch the rest of the season on the Tikambe Natulande Channel:


If you would like to talk more about this, tweet me and for professional advice on sexual reproductive health issues and for resources near you in Zambia, contact the Tikambe team on Facebook or Twitter.


Tuesday, 13 September 2016

Lenshina and the Inauguration

So this post really isn't about the Inauguration.  Zambia decided and some of us may not have gotten what we wanted, but today incumbent President, His Excellency Edgar Chagwa Lungu, is being sworn in. What has come out of this election cycle is that Zambia is a flock of lost sheep who are so desperate for direction. For me the political arena really isn't the place to duke this out, as personally I do not see my principles and my ideals for Zambia even remotely represented by anyone who seeks to serve in that capacity.  I have no idea what is going on in that ring, so this bull is using her horns to bust out and explore the great wide world out there for answers and to create my own solutions that hopefully have an impact in some way on a larger scale.


This past weekend I went on an amazing artistic journey quite by accident.  I have been in hibernation pretty much all year, trying to put myself back together after inadvertently finding myself the protagonist in what I realised was a Humpty Dumpty phase.  Thankfully all the King's horses and all the King's men were not required, but this Queen needed a whole lot of soul searching to reemerge.  I may have ended up broken after last year's success, but I am on the mend and patched up enough to move forward.  Part of that has been reconnecting with life in Lusaka and thankfully new hope has revealed itself. I have been inspired by our tenacity, and that artists in particular are finding ways to express themselves, even though this is a fearful time in Zambia - a time in which many of us youth are fearful of things regressing so far - that there will be no path for our future, only a way for the archaic, the disconnected, the greedy and the power-grabbers.


On Friday I decided to go to a Modzi Arts event about whether we do indeed have Zambian Literature. One of my girl crushes Mulenga Kapwepwe was on the panel and she talked about how it is clear from the way we write today that we have no idea who we are. We defined only in the past tense, in writers long gone. We take on other people's voices, experiences, their landscapes without having visited and try to co-opt their lives unsuccessfully.  We would rather write in broken English, live the life we watch on TV and adopt their truths and their pain, than actually tackle the specifics of our situation.  There is nothing wrong with being inspired by others.  There is everything wrong with living in someone else's skin with no real understanding of who they are and worse who you are.  In order for Zambia to move forward, to create great works, we need to live in our dysfunction, channel that through what we do and manifest, in order to work through and come out the other side wiser, strong and defined.  There is nothing wrong with declaring your truth, however untidy it may be.  If you are discombobulated, say you are and be done with it.  If you need to look back to figure out where you are to move forward, then do so. Take it from someone who has spent their life deranged and confused.  I have blogged over and over about how I live in uncertainty - you can still find identity in the unknown...trust me ;)!


Looking back to move forward is exactly what happened the next day.  I decided to watch Lenshina, a play about the Lumpa Church Uprising after Independence, as when I got home after the literary discussion, the Internet was lit with rave reviews. And I was not disappointed.  Both the UNZA Drum Theatre Troupe skits that preceded the main event and Lenshina were amazingly Zambian and fresh.  I laughed, sighed, cringed, "cried", was challenged, affirmed and above all was moved deeply.  What I loved most was that none of the actors put on weird foreign accents which Zambians seem to think make them sound cooler, more intelligent, more attractive and unfortunately, not Zambian and therefore better when speaking English. This erroneous view, symptomatic of a deep self hatred and low esteem, a glaring manifestation of the colonised mind that we tend to ignore, brush over and worst of all reward, is disturbingly sad to witness and usually detracts from what is being communicated.  I no longer listen to radio because I just can't with most DJs, the most blatant form of rewarding this behaviour.  You are enough mwebantu!  Just speak with whatever accent you have: it's your truth, it is the audio map of your life, be proud of your journey please! I equally was tickled by the fact that vernacular was used: mostly Bemba and in Lenshina, Nyanja and Tonga were also featured. Also, so chuffed I understood pretty much everything, so could get all the jokes as the scripts deftly interwove English with our mother tongues which is the way we quintessentially communicate. I am so glad that the art respected that. Every Zambian I believe is at least bilingual. One Zambia One Nation would not be able to exist in some shape or form without at least understanding your people and the diversity in the vicinity. At this point may I apologise if you were in at the Playhouse with me on Saturday: in true African style, I cackled, hooted and hollered, gasped and talked back so loud I couldn't help myself. I blame the raucous company I keep. And no it wasn't the wine I drank, it was only one glass he he he. It's how we do on the continent, and it's one of my favourite things about the way we immerse ourselves when suspension of reality is required at the theatre or the cinema.  We engage so viscerally and profoundly with art, something that is largely lost in the West. There is theatre etiquette and a separate, more stringent set of rules for the cinema. Ehk! I have been on the receiving end of many a side-eye and tut when I forget where I am when far from home enjoying myself.  Okay maybe I'm not that sorry because clearly I have no control...


What made me proud to be Zambian after the performance was the fact that the youth who put together Lenshina, took on a very controversial subject in a time when people are retreating to their corners and are afraid to speak.  They were able to comment on today using the past. And they did it in a refreshingly modern way, not limited by the comfort Zambians feel in the familiar.  We tend to produce content that is stale, repetitive and tired.  Our complacency, which has led to the disquiet and dissatisfaction that has manifested itself in cadre violence, political clamp downs and the loss of our peace and friendliness, has in turn revealed itself in art that proves that imitation is not always the best form of flattery.  We may have found comfort in knowing what is coming but it keeps us stagnant.  It has stopped us from growing.  And knowing that forces wanting to "help" will come and bail us out has put us in a position of begging.  And this was reflected in some reactions to the play, asking for more of the story as they felt they enjoyed it so much it should have included everything about the Uprising to make it longer, which completely misses the point.

The play took a particular stand.  Unbiased yet strongly pointed.  Was Lenshina in the wrong or was Kaunda?  The rapier delivery of dialogue built on short sentences and each scene ending with the protagonists accusing each other of having "blood on their hands", perfectly articulated the struggle of defining self and moving forward after colonisation - that One Zambia One Nation was something that needed to be worked at even then.  Lives were lost in the struggle and it is up to each of us to come to our own conclusions and most importantly I feel, be inspired by our history not to fall into the same pitfalls our Founding Fathers did. Not to be afraid of different points of view.  To allow for nuance. To respect our differences and work harder to find common ground to ensure peace beyond tolerance.  I will discuss this much going forward as I launch my new endeavour the ACE Project. The play was timely, evident in the fact that religion played a huge part in the confusion and lies were disseminated on both sides to advance each others causes.  Both sides I feel were honourable and authentic in their point of view, but their truths were subjective to their experience and goals which blinded them. That ultimately led to clashes rather than compromise for a better future. To miss those parallels because you weren't given the full story is short-sighted.  To not understand that true art fills your soul yet sparks your spirit to want more is an oversight we cannot avoid. If you feel a different presentation was required, create your own chance, write your own play, give us another view.  Art is never complete, it is supposed to add to the conversation and facilitate the creation of more.  Art is meant to "comfort the uncomfortable and discomfort the comfortable".  It is not meant to necessarily answer your questions, but it can give you peace knowing that the questions are out there and that the answers are being searched for, the solutions and being worked on.  

This play used that past to give us the language today to communicate what we are feeling, to know that this is not anything new, but also to warn us that just because it has happened before, doesn't mean it should happen again.  Repeating history is not an excuse, evidence to be justified in defeat. Instead of praying from a place of hopelessness and not hope, let's help ourselves as deliverance comes to those who demand it through their actions.  Ultimately the play  was able to contribute to the conversations we are having and inspire us to respond in turn. Despite the rickety theatre, the lack of resources, the cast and crew persevered.  Their situation is a metaphor for and the reality of Zambia right now.  They were able to find and communicate a painful beauty despite the shadows trying to overcast and obscure.  They illuminated their desire to succeed in the most thoughtful and entertaining way.  They achieved what great art does, they were able to inspire.  Hence this blog post ;}!





Tuesday, 19 April 2016

Madness and Tea

One of the beauties of the internet, is I continue to get tangled in webs woven by beautiful Black (and African) women around the world.  Twitter is the best place for that.  I have met ladies whom I feel I know like the lines on my palms, and yet we have never occupied the same space physically.

As I have no picture with Malaka,
I have substituted her with some
sistren eye candy and my latest pic
repping the hooded clan.
 Photo taken by Vince Banda 
One such dame is one of my favourite girl crushes Malaka.  I first came across her when trying to find a transcript of the famous Intellectual Scum conversation by Field Ruwe, but did not really get to know her till we both featured in a Google hangout about African women, sex and love.  This lead to the epic Twitter love affair of the hooded sistren.  The profound nonsense that we spout out in abundance is so much fun.  I get to Big Pun and she shines in her irreverently unabashed, insightful, crazy and intelligent way. She is the sage and I am the jester. And vice versa - I Yoda to her Jar Jar Binks. I look forward to finding nuggets on my TL to jump-off from and flex my witty muscles.  I can't wait for us to go on our train excursion.  She thinks I'll forget. I have proof-o. Don't make me juju...




So really, she is already aware of my powers so she best not try me. Once she returns to the motherland, we are planning! Yes, it's by force as we say here in Zed.

Anyhoo, back to the point of this post. So Malaka, posted this "old man rant" about how Africans in the West end up pandering to the stereotype of waxing lyrically about the Africa of Heart of Darkness and National Geographic photographs, not the perfectly imperfect blend of tradition and modernity, light and darkness, poverty and wealth, aet cetera, ad infinitum, and everything in between that actually currently exists on the continent. Right now I'm obsessed with nuance: adding more viewpoints to the debates that are going on locally and globally. The article made me think about how we in Zambia are completely suckered into this form of presentation to get the approval of some NGO, to get some accolade, to lure foreign direct investment or a new aid program, to get our names out there. We crave foreign validation to feel worthy. It's sad. We are enough! Just put yourself out there honestly and D'Arcy will like you just as you are Bridget Jones ;}.

This led me to have the exchange with her, storified below.  I hope it makes you think about the way we represent ourselves, and about how if we don't allow for nuance, we who are the made the "Other" will remain stagnant. If you are part of the "Us" group, who dictate what rhythms the Other has to dance to, think about your part in perpetuating this nonsense.  There should only be one we, a diverse group called the human race, trying to make it the best way they can and accepting of the way others are. 


Like this post? You can find more in Twit Tuesday..

For more information about my journey this year and to keep up-to-date with the world of MbA, follow me on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.


Thursday, 29 October 2015

Zed Love

I am currently sitting in the Emirates Business Class Lounge at Dubai International Airport, en route from San Francisco to Lusaka. Five years ago I was at in this very airport returning home from LA after my masters, excited by what was to come as I transitioned back to living on African soil. Is it coincidence that there are so many parallels to my journey when I started this blog? Methinks not.  Methinks the universe is trying to tell me something. I would be foolish not to listen. So thought I would ruminate over a coupla things on Thursday ;}.
 
I have clearly missed writing, and I am glad I have found my waxing lyrical mojo once more. I am so excited to go back home. I am so at peace with myself, and I am not worried about losing this feeling once I land.  When I left Ghana in 2014 I wanted to stay on, as I felt I would not be able to bottle that spirit I found in me there and dose myself every time I needed a pick me up.
 
What I want to say in this post is, a year on from Zambia's 50th, despite the recent woes with Zesco's crippling, schizophrenic loadshedding, the Kwacha plummeting - further adding to the debilitating situation caused by our energy crisis, and tradition/ religion being twisted to be used as a scapegoat to continue bad practices, to excuse unethical behavior/ decisions, as well as to quell the masses by passing the buck of responsibility on to a higher power/ dogma, I see a bright future.  There are still people out there finding a way to be and to do regardless of the situation.  I still firmly believe that the way to
  Being un-CEOrious during
#ZambeefInYourTown
e18hteam national tour, photobombing
a picture with Zambeef Manager
and audience members in Lusaka.
Photo Credit: PR Girl
survive and thrive is to not base your dreams, goals and route to success on who is in power, whom you have to accept as the people have chosen and respect their decision and just get on with it.  And if they haven't, well it is what it is, isn't it, so unless you can do something about it, once again you just have to find a way to live with that too.  The same goes for waiting on the perfect conditions arising, or any other fixed parameters that people can use and abuse for their own ends. If all is just right great. More often than not it isn't, so you just have to find  way to work with the cards you have been dealt. Zambia is far from stable enough to bank on things being just right and so I continue to adhere to the school of thought of just get it done.  Be aware of the current environment, the possibilities and the pitfalls present and the potential for either in the near and distant future.  Ultimately work with what you have and innovate perpetually, as being flexible and adaptable, is what is required.  If you are in constant evolution, you can ride whatever wave you encounter as you navigate the treacherous sea that is development, the state in which Zambia and much of the world is still in.  Even places in the developed world are no longer predictable, stable or giving, even when you do everything right.
 
Life is not meant to be easy, or there would be no point in living it as the highs and lows, the extremes and all that lies in between, is what makes it a great ride.  Zambia provides that in spades.  I like the challenge of it.  I now have found a way to thrive in it. I am no longer there to prove a point, that I am meant to be there.  I am now there because I choose to be, because it is the only place that affords the life that I cannot escape from, nor do I want to anymore.  I was able to reflect on this at the most beautiful sanctuary while at my 10 year Stanford Reunion on Independence Day. I am truly blessed to  be able to save to travel to my global family now because I live and work in Zambia, where I do not have to spend much to live a great life.  I don't know how I would have survived being away from the majority of the people who make my life worth living without the internet. However, the nuances of communication are largely lost and so in the end, it becomes necessary to see people in the flesh and to feel physical places and reconnect with environments and certain milieus singular to places and congregations of specific people. I have found the beauty, the humour, the work hard play hard balance and the company to make Zambia my permanent base to interact with the world.  Here are some more pictures from instagram that illustrate this:
  
The humour
 


 
Work hard play hard
 

 
 Great company
 

Can't wait to land in a coupla hours.  Hope the heat won't kill me though, it's scorching out there and the temperature differential is over 20C!


For more information about my journey this year and to keep up-to-date with everything going on with the film as well my other projects in Zambia and globally, follow me on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

Monday, 26 October 2015

Coming to America, Dream of Africa: To Zed with Love...


Thought I would finally redeem myself and start blogging again this Mama Monday. What has sparked my creative juices in a literary fashion once more? America!

Indeed it is the place where I started this blog 5 years ago.  The scene is almost the same; though in California, I am at Stanford, not USC in LA. I haven't been to America since I left in August 2010. This blog then helped me to work through my nervous condition of reconciling my Afropolitan nature. I think I have finally cracked how to be global living local but constantly need to check in when things get wobbly. Now, to sustain it this healthy cycle... 

This year has been a crazy year. A truly blessed year. But turbulent due to the fact that certain parts of my life, essential to my soul and spiritual health, were sidelined. I am finally able to afford to travel, thanks to e18hteam getting into film festivals and being brand ambassador for Zambeef, but I have barely been able to read, let alone write since I posted the traditional Top 10 of the preceding year.

Descent in to SFO in September
So how does America get me to write? Zambia, though I love her, requires so much of my energy spent on surviving the crazy to thrive, that I get lost in the thick of things.  If you have been following me on social media, you will have seen I have made a couple of trips to Europe.  There I am at home, so my soul gets a breather to just be, which is a prerequisite for regeneration, but not great at fostering growth.  What the US does is smack me in the face. I know it's going to occur many a time, yet it happens spontaneously, erratically, unpredictably, and I'm blindsided every time.  It challenges who I am, where I come from and what my place is in the world in such a singular way.  

I have not been back in 5 years and have not found a reason to be excited to return until a close friend's wedding, my documentary included in the Official Selection of SVAFF, and my Stanford 10 year reunion all coincidentally scheduled themselves within a month of each other in Northern California.  The trip was worth it on so many levels.  The film had just completed a national tour and I was in need of a break. So the wedding and reunion book ended my trip, so could travel for work while getting some much needed downtime in between.

Within two hours of arriving, switching from International to Domestic, as I made my way through security to embark on my 3rd flight, after 24 hours already spent on 2 planes plus a 4 hour layover, Amurrrica did not disappoint with why I left (so I am now at peace with that decision and will never look back), but also revealed why I need to come back to get some shock treatment regularly. When I handed over my passport to the lady at Security:

TSA Agent: Oh my God, I knew that couldn't be right! I was like whaaaaat, you can't be from Zamunda, coz that's a fictitious place!

She waits for a response from me, but all I can do is smile, gobsmacked, and with the foresight to just smile but not wave because I am not a penguin from Madagascar, but I could be King Koffi's illegitimate daughter at this point he he he...

TSA Agent: You know what I mean, right...

Me: Yes, yes I do. Coming to America.

TSA Agent: Yeah! So you are from ZAAAMBEEEEEYAAAAAH?

Me: Yes, It is in Southern Africa.

TSA Agent: Never seen that before!

In my head I'm thinking, why am I the one to pop people's Zambia cherry?!

In retrospect this is hilarious. Take this quiz to make you feel better. Coming to America is all sorts of wrong.  It was in the 80s, even more so now, but you have to see the hilarity in it or you'll just die inside thinking of all the damage through misrepresentation and ignorance it has caused. I proudly got 10/10.

I took another 6 domestic flights and visited California, Massachusetts and Illinios. These trips all created encounters with TSA Agents and people who tried to put me in a box they understood before their brain exploded, as I don't read to the stereotypical conditioning that is required for people to assign norms in order to interact:

Reading directly from my passport as they say this:

Multiple TSA Agents: Ah you're from Zimbabwe... 

Me: !!!!!!!!!!

Random conversations with strangers:

Thought you were from Africa! When I heard your accent, I detected French there...

In my head: I'm from an English speaking African country and went to school in England and speak terrible French so....

Oh so your name is Engasa? Is that from the click language, you know the one I am talking about right?

Me: Languages with clicks are further South in Zimbabwe, Botswana, South Africa, but I think you are referring to Xhosa.

Yeah, that's the one. I'm actually trying to learn that. Do you know how to pronouce...

Internal dialogue: I love my name Ngosa, so small yet causes such great difficulty in pronunciation he he he.  Why do Americans only know about the click language?! Do they know that it's rude to refer to it that way and ignorance to not know there is more than one? And please if you are going to learn any language, KNOW ITS NAME out of respect for the people who speak it and the culture it represents. Inexcusable! And no I will not be an authority on how you butcher someone else's tongue...

Back in the day this would irk me to the point where I would need all my might to hold back the vitriol that would try to force its way out in volcanic proportions and decimation.  Before I needed to avoid Pompeii, now that volcano is not even dormant, it's extinct. I talk about these incidents with empty passion, devoid of emotion. I ask myself what lead to the crazy and attempt to work out a rational explanation for their words and actions, but don't stress about it, whether I can figure things out or not. Why? Because these moments are hilarious.  I find the humour in this derogatory ignorance towards my continent and my people.  All I can do is lead by example, but I am in no way obligated to educate. These are grown people, armed with the best access to the Internet and its treasures.  Google is at their disposal with a plethora of information to expand horizons, to increase exposure exponentially ad infinitum. But what I get from these jolts of crazy are a wake up call for my soul. Woolgathering ensues and I have been able recalibrate, refocus - reacquaint myself with who I am as well as who I want to be, and how to get there to be a positive force in the world and a part of communities.  

Wearing Poleka by @MutoniChola
and copper jewelry from Free Zambia
So thank you America, for now you have bulldozed through my writers block and exposed a whole new creative space that includes blogging. Once again, I have been forced to Nike and just do it, but what has also been revealed is my evolution.  Last time I started writing out of anger and despair, this time I write not from a place of irked and determined indignation, but from a peaceful, sage place of transcendent freedom and comfort in oneself that outside forces ultimately cannot put asunder.  No longer noxious, my relationship with America has turned from detrimental to a positive, catalytic, cathartic one.

So all because of some profound nonsense, (and you know I love me some of that), in coming to America, I did not dream of staying and being a model immigrant, but of going back to the continent to the country I love, flying the Zambian flag proudly ;}. So cheers to that, to writing again and to heading back to the continent tomorrow!

For more about my journey this year and to keep up-to-date with everything going on with the film, as well my other projects in Zambia and globally, follow me on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.