KAMBISA

In Memorian

11.11, less then three weeks after Zambia’s 40^th independenceday, the Palestians lost their leader Yasser Arafat due to a mysterious blooddisorder. Whilst Israel was still neglecting UN-resolutions, Marwan Al Pargothy, the man who had the popularity to succeed Arafat in his quest to gain freedom for his people, was locked behind Israelian bars, breeding on peaceplans to stop neighbors from destroying each other.

Yasser Arafat

A week earlier a provoking-by-profession-columnist was killed in Amsterdam, once perceived to be the capital of tolerance. A young Dutch Muslim of Maroccan descent was arrested for stabbing and shooting this living statue of free-thought and leaving a deaththreat for a m.p., a former Somalian refugee, on his body. Van Gogh and her had made a film about mistreatement of women in Islamic societies, displaying four abused women in shine-through dress, verses from the Qur’an painted on their naked bodies underneath. Shortly after, Islamic schools were bombed and Christian churches burnt down.

Theo van Gogh

The columnist, too critical a thinker to generalize a group a varied as Muslims, was stigmatised to be an ‘anti-islam filmmaker’ in The Post, being dead could not defend himself. Arafat was denounced an ‘terrorist’ by the Israelian government and a ‘hero’ by many others. The issue of freedom is a tricky one. One man’s death is the other one’s breath.

Tobias or Carol?

Whose freedom is it when you can go an drink each night, but your love runs of and everything you’re fighting for ends up in the shredder of your own indiscipline? What freedom is it when you are allowed to vote, but denied a dream to choose for? Which freedom is it when your parents let you go to party, but you end up having a reputation which will hunt you for years? The freedom to destroy your own potential?

You or me?

Which freedom, whose freedom, what freedom; it’s up to us to chose. Feel free in the cells because nobody can touch your mind, or play slave in a wide empty meadow because there’s no wall to scratch on. If freedom is the ability to do what you want to do, your dreams must be its ultimate master.

There’s this strange way rape victims protect themselves; they give in and make themselves believe they allowed it. But what followed was the guilt for a sin they didn’t commit. Cruelly captured in our need to be free. Sometimes you have to give up in order to keep.

THE FIXED WAY OF LIFE

Tobias was just another guy with dreams of becoming a hip-hop star,a good guy with tight lyrics. Everything he wrote was deep and poetic. When you met Tobias for the first time, you would sense how deep his love for music was. He was the kind of person who would never give up on his dreams. But he died. How did he die? He killed himself!

Carol was the hottest chick at junior high school, good at sport, modeling and dancing. Even though her grades were not so good, her dream was to become rich. She had it all worked out: she would finish school and then start a business buying clothes from South Africa and selling them to the traders in Kamwala. At 15 she fell pregnant and the boy responsible was also too young to take care of her and the baby. All he could do was accept that it was indeed his child. After some time, Carol really knew what it meant to become an adult before your time. So what happened to Carol? Her spirit died.

Was Carol’s death more justified than Tobias’ because her body didn’t die? Or was Tobias in a better position because he was no longer a burden to society?

These are very common deaths in our society, and no one is doing anything about it. Our dreams are advertised everyday and encouraged on the radio and on T.V, but they are rejected by society. Society can’t embrace our dreams and aspirations because they are too Western, too commercial, too ghetto and so on. How come society can’t see that what the youths have to offer is what they have been taught and what they have found happening? Is society so blind that it can’t see the pain the youths are feeling, the confusion, the anger, the fear of failure?

‘Blacks crossing seven seas on blood and barks of trees

Hunger on street kids

Like chrome on Vietnamese

Mama shedin tears

Coz her boys are turnin into ghetto gees

Her tears falling like bombs droppin on Iraqi

360 degrees of social misdermeanor

spiritual pirates taken me to heaven on a Bima’

Everything has lost its value, even human life. No one cares about the next person. It’s now each man for himself and God for everyone. Everyone is busy sorting out their own problems. The leaders are busy quarrelling with each other. Spiritual leaders are also busy privatising God and the Sabbath. Parents are busy with their financial problems while their children are occupied with all kinds of physical experiments (a.k.a. growing up).

The whole world is busy. Who is going to pay attention to Tobias? To society, he is just a selfish and childish person. How could he do such a thing? But could it be that he is happier and freer than he ever was alive. What about Carol? Was having sex and later having a baby her fault because she was adult enough to know what it would bring to her if she indulged? But what if this is the only life she knew, the norm in her neighborhood? THE FIXED WAY OF LIFE.

‘God the Father

God the Son

God the Holy Spirit

We pray that you can guide us

Coz none of us is righteous

From the book of Genesis we reminsce

Christians owing taxes

Even Pharasees’

Even though the whole world is busy, at least people should realise that just as the soul can’t live without the body, society also can not progress without the intact ambitious spirit of the youth. Society needs to educate and encourage the youth instead of criticizing us all the time. If things don’t change there will be nothing left to call a society just because someone underestimated the worth of another human being. People should not wait for what happened to Tobias and Carol to happen again before they can finally agree that a positive change in attitudes is really needed.

Only death should divide us - not hate, jealousy or status. Instead we should pray for God to guide and unite us, because none of us is righteous.

Queen

‘Blak Godess’ Queen Sheeba is a Zambian musician, formerly working with the Zambezi Symphony, including ShiMasta, whose story is found on the next pages.

The fragments on the right are taken from the lyrics of her upcoming solo-album.

Sheeba’s poem ‘Poetry of A Sinner’ is found at the backcover.

Cousin and Son

by ShiMasta

One Saturday, I woke up early in the morning just to fix the old roof sheets from leaking raindrops. In this two-roomed house I was renting, I couldn’t sleep during rainyseason. It was worth it, since it was cheap and I could only pay K60,000 per month.

While fixing the roof, I was drinking my favourite beer, chibuku. Suddenly my mind took me way back into the days I call ‘Mumatololo’ (wilderness). When reality first spoke to me, truth behind the mask. It’s good to focus on the mistakes of the past, I said to myself; sometimes it’s healthy. I sighed.

Mumatololo

One day, the whole family was out. I was a young boy, 15 years of age, still waiting for my school fees which my father used to spend on chibuku everyday, beating up my mum to a bloody face. Several times my mum was being called a bitch in front of others!

ShiMasta

Is a Zambian musician, formerly working with Zambezi Symphony, including Queen Sheeba, whose words are found earlier in this magazine as well as on the backcover, and Desh, whose works were found in previous issues.

Since Zambezi, ShiMasta has gone solo by releasing his debut cd ‘ShiMasta’. His second album, ‘Mwela Onse’, is on its way....

ShiMasta

My auntie came home, and found me reading my old English book. By then I used to buy myself cheap shoes and clothing in saluala. Sometimes I could help my mother with a K5,000. I did all the washing, plates, watering the garden etc.

So, we sat for ten minutes and my auntie was still quiet. I knew something was going on, because she’s a very outspoken kind. I asked what was troubling her. She said I was very young to understand. I insisted. She broke into tears and started saying she was going to be sent away – meaning divorce -, because she was barren. She never got along with my mother, who was complaining that my auntie lived very comfortable without giving her brother a child. So, she came to see my father because she was having a fight with my uncle over a lady she found drinking with my uncle at a pub around 22 hours.

she was going to be sent away because she was barren

She had some money, so she bought some beer and we started drinking. I started encouraging her, saying everything has got its own time. As we got drunk, she started crying that my heart felt very sad. I tried to stop her from crying but she couldn’t. When I held her close, rubbing off her tears with my fingers, she held me tight and then she kissed me saying I should help her get a child. It was my uncle who was barren, she said. No one was going to know if I never said it to anyone. She convinced me that if I refused, she was going to lose her marriage, and that she would be a very big disappointment to her family.

We ended up having sex and it became a habit. We did it everywhere we thought was private. People started asking me what was going on between me and my auntie, since we sometimes did things together. That’s when I woke up to my senses and told her people are noticing, ‘coz they are asking about us.

Ifyakulya ubushiku fitula kumalushi

That’s how she ended up having my boy child, whom they are now living with. It hurts to see my own son raised by my uncle, especially the baby not knowing who I am to him. In Bemba we say “Ifyakulya ubushiku fitula kumalushi” (“What you eat in the night, you vomit in the morning”)

MozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRud

-intro-

This Mozegater no munankwe

DJ Banky bias munchende

Yes man tell them rud boy

-chorus-

Take it eazy rud boyz

Ala nati take it eazy

Rud boyz 2x

1990 kwali coup mwanba luchembe

1990 kwali coup

three years later Gabon disaster

ala nati three years later

Gobon disaster

Take it eazy rud boyz

Yalizandile x3 heh x2 boy x2

Yalizandile

-verse 1-

1990-1990 rud boyz kwaliko

coup mwamba luchembe

>> p. 19

BoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegate

Not All that Glitters is Gold

by Kababula Bupe, Mpika

I had to do one thing: obey or not. I choose the latter. Since then, bad things that I thought would never happen to me started happening.

My parents refused me from doing so,

but I thought all they said to me was useless.

It was after I had finished doing my teaching course when I decided to marry some one by the name of Alex, whom I had only known for six months.

My parents refused me doing so, but I thought all they said to me was useless. I refused to obey them and went on with my own plans. We wedded on the first of June, just after I had received my first salary.

Alex was an accountant, and he had always been there for me. He gave me hope for a bright future, he was always on time when I needed him.

After one year in marriage, things started changing. He was never at home during the day, not even on Sundays. He claimed that he was busy doing his work. My friends started telling me stories about him. I was told that he had a girlfriend who happened to be my relative. I could not believe it, for where there is love, there is trust. I trusted him so much.

He looked into my eyes and assured me that all the stories I had been told were lies.

One day, he came back early and I thought I had a chance to ask him about what I had been hearing. He looked into my eyes and assured me that all the stories I had been told were lies. He told me that I was the only lady he had ever loved. I begun to think as though the people who told me the stories about him, were just yealous. My parents came to tell me about him but all I told them was that I had my own life to lead. Again, I refused to obey my parents.

It was only after the parents of the girl came to me and told me that their daughter was pregnant, that I realised Alex had been playing games with my heart.

I called for a family meeting and to my disappointment Alex chose the young girl over me. After all the promises he made me, the love I gave him and the trust I had in him, he could not look back and fulfill his promises. He was gone.

do not rush for you will crush

I am now alone. My dear friends, do not rush for you will crush. If only I had obeyed my parents, I would not have found myself in such a situation.

I was born in Zambia about 25 years, 8 months ago. I do not know what it was like in this country before October 24, 1964. Everything I can possibly know about Northern Rhodesia is purely from what I have been told and what I have read, but mostly it’s from what I have read.

I have read a bit of the history of Northern Rhodesia and that of Southern and Central Africa generally. Not many people who lived in the then Northern Rhodesia have told me stories about the conditions of living before we attained independence. So I do not know of many injustices that probably took place in pre-independence Zambia.

My father once told me that older native people had to call all white persons as “sir”, or “bwana” whether the white person was young or old. Daddy told me this in the presence of my Mum and I asked them both if they themselves had had to call any white person younger than themselves as “sir” or “bwana”.

They said that indeed they did on more than one occasion had to address a younger person as “sir” or “Bwana”. Hearing this, I laughed at both of them and they laughed back. I thought it was very funny and stupid. And when a white man was coming, my parents told me that they had to give way to the white person to pass. This rarely happened to my parents because, so they told me, they did not get to meet white people often as blacks and whites lived and operated from quite different areas.

My parents had to call all white persons “sir” or “bwana”

I wonder how it felt like to get treated differently by society on the basis of race. There is no doubt in my mind that it was not easy to be happy in such land. Racism was her Majesty’s government policy and was entrenched in the way society was structured. It was made to be embraced by all – Asians, Europeans and Africans. This is still manifested even this day by many sectors and individuals.

If one attempts to understand the trend of racist behaviour in people living in Zambia today, one will probably agree with me that generally persons my age are not racists and do not speak nor act as such.

One might not disagree that those who actually lived and experienced racism still exhibit racist behaviour; or at least from time to time. I suggest that the reason is obvious. Old, especially bad habits die hard.

But I have never been ill-treated due to the colour of my skin, nothing inspires me to be racist.

I have never been ill-treated or been treated less favourably because of the colour of my skin, and I have not treated anybody less favourably on account of their race. Nothing inspires me to be racist. I love blacks and whites. But my favourites are persons of Asian descent.

To those who lived before 24^th October 1964, Independence Day means liberation and freedom. When I was born, Zambia had long been independent and there was freedom and liberty in abundance already. That is all I have known and experienced as a Zambian - never oppressed, persecuted or improperly treated on account of the type of human being that I am. When I was in my first grade, my teachers were not even spanking us!

To me Independence Day means enhanced freedoms and liberties; it means democracy and adherence to the principles of natural justice; it means respecting human rights. It is a symbol of the betterment of our society in all ways.

We must strive to make ourselves into better human beings than we were the year previously. We must be able to successfully argue that as a country we are better off than all the previous years.

It is up to the younger generation to show our fathers and mothers that Zambia today is 40 years better off than it was 40 years ago.

It is up to the younger generation to show our fathers and mothers that Zambia today is 40 years better off than it was 40 years ago. This must show in the way we conduct ourselves mentally and physically.

Ours is a generation of gender equality, racial equality, information technology, intellectual property, democracy and environmental salvation.

We are interested in such subjects as debt cancellation, the inequities of the slave trade (these were certainly crimes against humanity), the effects of globalization on the third world economies, the threat of AIDS on the future of our economy, the problem of privatization, the question of maize marketing, the effect of the perpetual instabilities of the middle east on the oil prices.

We are interested in reading books with titles such as Time is Money, Do not Waste it, How to effectively Out-Compete your Competitors. This is not to sound unpatriotic but I want to propose that that is the main reason that many 25 year olds are not usually present at celebrations for National events such as Africa Freedom Day and Independence Day.

We as youths have our own problems

We as youths have our own problems and find meaning in quite different things from those that our fathers worship. By realising this, I believe it becomes easier for both the old and the young to appreciate their roles as citizens of this country.

Happy 40^th day my country.

Mama Chibesa Kankasa

interviewed by KJ

I’ve passed through many generations. In the freedom struggle I played a role which was appreciated. That’s why the first president appointed me as minister for women’s affairs. I wanted to raise awareness of freedom values, especially those for women. We were downtrodded upon. Traditionally, woman were just regarded as tools for the men; to cook for them, bear their children etc. This was further established by the colonial masters, who regarded us as second citizens. Women could not move without a marriage certificate. There were checkpoints in every province. Unmaried woman were not allowed to go to urban areas.

They said African woman smell bad.

I don’t know why they established such rules, I think it was just to humiliate us. Off course we felt bad, we rose against that humiliation. Women were not allowed to buy from European shops. If they wanted something, they could get it through the window. They said African woman smell bad.

Myself, when I was three years old, my mum took me from Northern Province to Kitwe to join my father. She could do so, as she was in possession of a marriage certificate. I was brought up in a missionary, my parents raised me in a Christian way and I finished grade seven when I was fifteen years old – which was very quick. I would have continued studying, had I not gotten married when I was sixteen. My husband was Mr. Timothy Jiranda Kankasa, he died 22 years ago, after we had ten children together.

The humiliations made the women of our land to rise against the traditional and the colonial system.

The humiliations made the women of our land to rise against the traditional and the colonial system. The freedom struggle started in the forties. It was the men who started it, the women followed, they wanted freedom from the colonial and the traditional system. We fought side by side with the men.

Both my husband and I were politicians. He was also a union leader. We were members of the ANC (African National Congress) and in 1955 I joined UNIP, which is still my party. I started organising the women during the struggle, promising them that independence would bring an end to the humiliations. They chose me as their leader, since I was more educated than the others.

After independence, I became the minister for Womens Affairs, which I was from 1969 till 1988, nineteen years. I am the longest serving minister of Womens Affairs.

educate the girlchild

Our work had been voluntary during the struggle, after independence now we were on the payrole. My job was to emancipate women; arranging paid maternity leave, initiating Womens Day and dealing with the way tradition still looked at women – there were still so many humiliations. We wanted to be part and parcel of the system, being appointed to high positions etc. My major aim was to educate the girlchild, so that she can be what she wants to be.

Our Zambian men have always been very understanding. In fact, men helped us to brew the convention of elimination of all forms of discrimination against women in 1979. I signed it in Kopenhagen, it was a worldconference with all memberstates of the United Nations.

Let the young ones come.

I’m a retired politician, I’ve done my part, I am now aging. Let the young ones come. If they want advise, they can always come.

I started the Kalingalinga Care off Orphanage because off my consciounce. After living with children who have become orphaned, who don’t go to school. Working for them, I consider my last appointment on earth.

Nowadays, girls are sleeping around too much.

In the past we had orphanes, but not in big numbers like now awadays. It’s due to HIV/Aids. Women should protect themselves from sleeping with men. Nowadays, girls are sleeping around too much. I blame it on poverty, they don’t have what to do, they just believe in sex. If I were to be Minister of Womens Affairs today, I would urge the government to create jobs.

What Osama Means to the Minibus Driver

A fictional monologue based on here-say/heresy

-check out the mag in paper-

Outlook on Osama – a View from America

-check out the mag in paper-

MozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRud

bashala bonse bali uko

twalimine rud boys pa ka chelo

kuya ku mabala

nalisendele na waileshi or instile radio

naleumfwa, naleumfwa rud boyz nati amuti mbuya

bapoke chalo

mama isa zanda ebele

very stupid, very rud and very foolish rud boys shali nimbezi

mama aisapoka aisapokarud boyz

iyo radio ala umfwa

boyz yalizadile

ebele mozegater kashichachine

nati nachila myeba

aisa njipusha tuchte shani?

Naisa shikamo rud boyz imbe

Imbe rable now wich side?

Imbe refuge

Mozegater (1978, Kasama) started composing his own ‘Chiunda’-music in 1998. “Chiunda” means “sound”, Mozegater explains, ‘any sound is music. Listen to the sounds at the roundabout, that’s music.’

Rud Boyz talks about the things surrounding the issue with Captain Solo in Kasama between 1999 and 2000. It intends to put people into a clear picture.

For more information, contact Mozegater on 097 617469 or mozegater@yahoo.com

BoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegaterRudBoyzMozegate

From the dairies of a drunk: Suzyo’s System

some fiction by KJ

Wednesday

I have to go and see my mum. She’s been asking for me. Problem is; she’s expecting me to have a job by now. My uncle organised me an interview with some chap who seems to need an accountant. I went but they wanted to see my papers. We made an appointment, but by the time I was supposed to be there, Kasongo had shown up. His wife had thrown him out, big shit. She had been told he had been sleeping with one of her friends. Man, the guy was complaining. I couldn’t chase him. Off course it s a bit true, but he had not expected her to find out about it. When he went to see the other one, she was equally upset. The guy is in trouble, I’m telling you.

my head is banging like a blacksmith’s hammer

Friday

Ishhh, big fun last night, now my head is banging like a blacksmith’s hammer. Wish I had thrown up last night, didn’t think it was that bad. Met some nice chick, she claims she’s eighteen, but seeing her this morning, I doubt. Hope nobody is gonna come and arrest me. Anyway – she had very nice hips, 100% worth the risk. Considering to call her, but might get disappointed. According to Charles the size of the thighs is compensated by the size of the brains. He was claiming he had tested it a hundred times. Can see why he thinks like that; the skinny ones are somehow bit easy to get, fat ones allways pretending to be some kind of queens. Think the skinny ones are more straight-forward, they just tell you their price and off you go. But eeh.. me, I like some flesh in my hands.

Chico was like that. Man, I was a fool to let that one go. She stuck with me through and through. She took a lot of my shit, I don’t like being told what to do. But she needed something also, I guess I wasn’t always being fair. Still, we believed in it so much. We had plans. I wanted to marry her and have twins. Don’t know what went wrong, I guess it was the money-shit. I wanted to find enough cash before proposing to her, but things didn’t work out. One morning, I just found her gone. Not even a note. They told me she’d gone to the village. Maybe she just got tired of waiting, a girl’s got her time.

Anyway, I have to start preparing myself. Need to be at that white guy’s office by thirteen. He says he can get me a deal, but I need to see his manager first. Aftershave is finished, have to get some before I go. Smelling like shit.

Saturday

Woke up to find my sister knocking at the window. Mum wanted me. I had wanted to go there being able to help her with something, but there was no more chance for delay. Tried to get myself together, while she cleaned up the house. When I came back from having a bath, I found the bookshelves re-organised with the comdoms neatly near the bed-end. Am gonna kill her if she spreads the word.

Mum was worried. My uncle had told her I had failed to show up for the job-interview three times in a row and now they were no longer interested. I had to talk my way out of it big time. Don’t know where I got it from, but I guess I made it.

I wish she knew how right she was.

We had some nice lunch, chicken. She asked me how Chico was. I haven’t told her we broke up. So I said she’s gone to the Copperbelt for further studies. She looked at me and said ‘You must be missing her’. I wish she knew how right she was. Feels bad to lie to her, but I don’t want to make her upset. I’ll make things right and make her proud. My sisters need new shoes and it’s high time Benjamin starts going to school. He’s almost five now, and too sharp.

On the way back I met Matongo, that guy is organised. He’s looking smart these days, says he’s been running around trying to get adverts for some magazines. It seems, since he got a baby, thay guy has turned really serious. I wanted to take him for a drink, but he refused, said he had to go and sort some business.

He offered he could introduce me to some of his people on Monday. The way he’s talking, things can work out. They give you a 15% of every add you get them. He says it’s a lot of hassle, people trying to sweet talk you, making you come for nothing etc. but you just have to come out like you’re time is valuable and they need you more than you need them. OK, it’s small money, but in the end the smalls add up to a big one. I think I should just try it, I’m tired of begging people for jobs everyday.

tired of begging people for jobs everyday

Sunday

Chico killed my baby! Met her friend in A-bar the other day, she got pissed with me and said I had made her having an abortion. I blasted at her, didn’t believe it. Chico is no person to kill a baby. She can’t do that. But that friend gave me a lot of details which made some sense, says how was she going to raise a baby with a guy like you? You were just gonna give her promises, that’s all you ever did, she had nowhere to go.…. shit, am gonna kill myself.

‘you were just gonna give her promises,

that’s all you ever did’

Sunday (later)

Went to see her at her grandmum’s place, am told she’s not there and they don’t know where she is. I don’t believe them, the shirt I gave her was on the line. She wouldn’t have left without it, she wore it on our first date and the first time I laid my hands on her. She wore it on my birthday, on every special happy occasion we had.

What if she did? She must be really upset with me. What did I do to her?

Wednesday

I’ve been ging roud like crazy, trying to find out more ‘bout Chico and trying to get some money. Somebody said she’s got a baby; maybe she’s just talking, but if it’s like that, I need to support her. One guy said she’s engaged, but the way he described the fiancee I think he was talking about me. He admitted he hadn’t seen her for long. Can’t really get a clue as to where she is, or how. I’ve been hanging round a bar near her grandmum’s place, but people are not saying much. Looks like they’ve been instructed. Wish I didn’t expose myself when talking to that bitch or going to her place.

I have messed up.

I have messed up. Can’t even really see why. Things were just fine, we were gonna have a nice life. She was going to study, I was gonna work. We wanted babies, why didn’t she tell me she was pregnant? I would have stopped her.

OK, she complained; she wanted me home at night, she wanted to go to college. But I didn’t know it was like this, that serious. Her grandmum told me staying with me was going to stop her from studying, it was gonna make her a housewife instead. They didn’t want that, Chico had a dream and the brains to make it come true. She wanted to become a lawyer. She could not accept just sitting at home waiting for me.

But that’s not what I wanted either; I was convinced I would make it. Things were not working out, I knew. But I took it to be temporary. I didn’t see why me having some fun had anything to do with our plans not going according to sheme. I was trying hard to get her some cash, I didn’t see the harm in having a beer afterwards. I didn’t get why she was crying over stupid small things, she’d never been like that before. I guess mistakes which were coincidence to me, started to look predictable to them. When she used to mention my ‘bad habits’, I just blamed her of having a lack of faith. Now that I come to think of it, maybe that’s why she used to pray so much in the end.

Gogo didn’t say anything about a pregnancy, but the way she’s coming out, I guess being pregnant made her decide the time for waiting was up. I remember she tried to put me on a deadline once. She told me if I was not gonna get her into college by the next term, she was gonna move back in with Gogo and find a job. Off course she didn’t. I even forgot about it.

Thursday

I saw her in town, carrying a baby on the back. I shouted from the window, but when she saw me, she ran into the market. I was in a bus, by the time I entered I couldn’t find her anymore.

I’m gonna find her and prove myself.

I’m gonna find her and prove myself. Got another job interview next week, I even begged them to give me another chance. Meanwhile, I’m gonna find somebody to borrow me some money, then I can start some small business. But first I have to find my reg. Don’t know where I left it, but I need it for that interview. Maybe I left it with Kasongo the other night… let me go and check on him.

Tourist Missing the Eclipse

by Michael Ahlee

One of Australia’s tourists missed his mission due to drinking of African spirits: Kachasu. On Thursday the 21st of June 2001, we had a great event which attracked a lot of people from all over the world. The sun, earth and moon were alligned in a straight line and the shadow of the moon fell on the southern hemisphere of the earth, causing the so-called eclipse.

Imagine, what an event to be missed by someone who came all the way from Australia to see it. On the very day of the event, the man decided to taste kachasu, what a mess. He had drunk so carelessly that he couldn’t notice what was taking place.

When it came into his mind that he had missed his once-in-a-liftime’s event, he cried by all means, what a big.... what a big mess. His colleagues tried to calm him by saying ‘Don’t worry much We took some pictures and recorded eveything on video.’, but a video is not a life experience.

Addition from the writer:

Yes, my brothers, time wasted is never recovered. Note these seven disadvantages of drinking alcohol:

substruction of money
addition of troubles
multiplication of enemies
division of family
destruction of health
misunderstanding of friends & relatives
total loss of respect

Let these seven alcoholic laws guide you from drinking beer.

Kambisa!BeHeard.

Freedom?

... was made by:

Michael Ahlee

Kabalupe Bupe

Ostakachte John Gathedeme

Klaartje Jaspers

Mozegatter

Rabecca Ngoma

ShiMasta

Queen Sheeba

Bellah Zulu

Thanks!!!

to them, their many helpers and those who agreed to be interviewed or photographed,

Comments and reactions

can be send to:

Kambisa!BeHeard.

c/o Klaartje Jaspers

p.o. box 37657, Lusaka

or:

KambisaBeHeard@hotmail.com

< ZIKOMO KWAMBILI < THANKS < NATASHA MUKWAI < TWALUMBA <

The Poetry of a Sinner

by Queen Sheeba

I walk the pathway of confusion,

I meet the carrier of illusions,

the man ahead of me drops crumbs of obstacles

hungry as I am, I feed on them like a child

on sweet lies of the suckle,

after this I lie down to dream, the dreamy dreams of a dreamer,

escaping this life of a prisoner,

I destructedly try to dream my life away,

a run away dream of a better day,

with the dawn of reality I wake up to take a bath,

to wash off this sleepy lazy aftermath,

I dive in the lake of reckless desire,

the water cannot cool me down, I’m like the fire

later I’m swept away by the whirlpool of insanity

not even the anchorman can save my vanity,

I’m then eaten by the jaws of sorrow,

only to be vomited because I see the light of tomorrow,

I succumb to the preacher man’s warmth,

and patiently dry while I wait for he who was, he who is, he who shall cometh,

Soon my patience is tested by the tradesman,

who promises that peace and harmony will rise at the same time as the sun,

his voice as smooth as velvet,

and his beauty is as captivating as an African sunset,

he tells me that if I exchange my soul with a life without poverty,

I shall not drown in self-pity,

soon I’m dancing to the sweet melodies from the harp of the beast,

and I die, as I’m hit by an Angel with its furious fist,

I awake to find judgment,

from the judges of my testament,

and I subconsciously wait for my punishment,

my last wish as a sinner, is to ask one question,

the question that will balance my life’s equation,

If God had so loved the world, why had he given me a mind?