After the gruesome experiences during the night, we might have dozed off for a few minutes before the house servant knocked at the back door. I was startled into wakefulness and realized that it was broad daylight already. I felt as if waking up from a nightmare into reality and the happenings of the night were just a bad dream. However, a shooting pain on my left shoulder where the intruder's iron bar had fallen, reminded me that the robbery was real.
I opened the kitchen door and found Richard, my servant, standing there. A large window-grill was lying not too far. "So, they left it here", was the first thing he said. A thought of doubt flashed through my muddled brain. What was he talking about and who were "they"? Did he already know about the robbery? Then why didn't he come to my assistance when the siren screamed its head off unless.....? My thoughts trailed off.
It was past seven in the morning. I decided to go to the local police station and report the matter. The sleepy policeman at the counter wrote down the F.I.R. When I gave him the list of articles that were taken away, he was asking me whether that was all as if a bit disappointed. However, I could not think of anything else. By the time he finished the F.I.R, a gentleman wearing a sports jacket whom I came to know later as the Officer in charge, breezed in. On seeing a foreigner near the counter, he approached me and asked what the problem was. After hearing my story he told me that it was a matter for the "Anti-robbery squad" and would be passed on to them. He further assured me that the culprits would be apprehended soon.
My next stop was at the office of the Ministry of Works. The windows that were damaged by the thieves had to be repaired. The maintenance officer promised to send his crew by mid-morning so that they could finish the job by late afternoon.
By the time I reached home, I found the police had arrived. There were three of them, including the finger-print man. He was dusting the window sill and frames, door handles etc. for prints and collected some. He would have to compare them with the collection of prints at the bureau. The other two were talking to Richard in a very friendly manner and smoking the cheap cigarettes he offered. As they were talking in bemba, I did not understand what they were saying. Anyway, it sounded like a friendly conversation, let alone any police interrogation.
The maintenance officer kept his word by sending his crew to repair the damaged windows and fix the protective grills. The phone line which was cut off by the thieves was also reconnected. In short things were back to normal once again.
During the lunch hour, the maintenance officer paid a visit to my place to see how the work was progressing. As the official vehicle was not available, he decided to walk, taking a short-cut through the town cemetery. He was walking along a well-defined path when he noticed a number of oblong objects on the ground nearby. He picked up one of them and found it to be a cheque book. He examined the others also and found them all cheque books of certain foreign banks. As my name was stamped on them, he concluded that the thieves might have tarried in the cemetery for a while in order to divide the proceeds of the robbery between them and the cheque books which were found among the spoils were discarded as they were of no use to them. The officer brought them along to me.
After the workers and some friends who had gathered at my place left, we felt very lonely. In fact we did not relish the idea of spending another night at No.34, David Kaunda drive. So we ate an early supper, gathered some clothes and rushed to the Top shop flats where some friends were staying. It was there that we slept for the next seven or eight nights until we left permanently the house that was our residence for the past fifteen years and moved to one of the ZCCM (Zambia Consolidated Copper Mine) flats with " round the clock" security.
Note: Securing a suitable alternate accommodation at such a short notice was not an easy thing. For this, I am indebted to a number of good people who sympathised with me at my predicament, like my colleagues Silumbu and Sakala, who were sharing one of the mine flats allocated to the housing pool and who agreed to swap with me, Mr. Zumani, my boss and Mr. Phiri, the district secretary of Mufulira who was also the chairman of the housing committee who both approved the proposal for the swap and made it possible for me and my family to move to the new premises within the shortest possible time. Undoubtedly this was another occasion of Zambian goodwill experienced by me during my long stay in that country.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
THE NIGHT THE DOGS FAILED TO BARK
It was the final day of the World Cup Football and the date was June 30th, 1986. I was recouping from a three week-long viral fever and the night was very cold.
Even though I went to bed at about 10.30 PM I did not know how long it took me to fall asleep. I was sleeping soundly when some strange noise woke me up. I was not sure what it was. I lay awake, listening for any further noise.
There it was again. It sounded like the creaking of a bed spring. I slowly got up from my bed and went to my son's bedroom to see if my ten-year old son had been turning in his bed during sleep. I found him sleeping peacefully. I returned to my room and found my wife already awake and looking out through one of the windows. I happened to note the time on the bedside clock as five minutes past two in the morning.
It was very quiet outside. There was sufficient light for us to see the plants in our garden, the wire-fence at the far end of the property known as No.34, David Kaunda drive, part of my drive-way, the double-gates and the trees on the other side of the road, in the compound of Pamodzi primary school. There was hardly any movement. The trees stood mute and motionless, bathed in the dim silvery moonlight and there was not even the distant hum of a motor car on the highway or the barking of stray dogs in the neighbourhood.
Suddenly it struck me very odd that my two guard dogs, Snowy and Sooty were nowhere to be seen. At night, they always used to be somewhere around, but not far from the vicinity of our bedrooms. I looked through one of the windows into the second garage where my Fiat was parked. The car stood bathed in the bright light of the overhead fluorescent lamp but there was no sign of the dogs.
The silence was ominous. I shuffled on bare feet through the narrow corridor in between the bedrooms and the living room to reach the door at the far end that gave access to the kitchen. That door was bolted on the inside with a heavy brass bolt. I did not notice the light that was filtering in through the small glass window at the top.
Without any hesitation, I pulled the bolt and opened the door. What happened during the next few moments took place so fast that I could not comprehend fully what exactly was happening. I had an impression of three or four people rushing in through the door and I felt at the same time as if some heavy object was falling on my left shoulder. However, I did not feel any pain but only heaviness. Then I felt being pushed backwards as if in the midst of a crowd along the corridor until I found myself in my bedroom and my wife standing at the far window, still clutching the pull-switch of the security alarm which I could hear wailing like a banshee from the roof-top. As its shrill cry shattered the silence of the night air, one of the intruders managed to grab the cord of the pull-switch and stop it. The apparent leader of the gang brandished a gleaming knife at us and ordered both of us to lie down on the carpet and we obeyed promptly.
There were four of them. One appeared very huge and wore a face-mask. He gave short, crisp orders and the others complied with. They forced open locked cupboards and ransacked shelves and drawers. They pulled out the contents and scattered them on the floor. The leader kept on asking for American dollars which we did not have any. They gathered electronic equipments, wrist watches, and anything else that attracted their attention, but very little money as we did not keep any large amounts at home. They looked into my son's bedroom briefly but did not take anything from there. Then they left, taking the house-keys and the car keys along with them so that we would not get out of the house immediately and follow them or go to the police. However, we were too scared to even move out of the bedroom.
As soon as I heard the front door bang indicating their departure, I ran to my son's bedroom and carried him to our bedroom. The child was shivering. In fact he was awakened by the wailing of the security alarm and had seen the thieves, but was so scared that he pulled the blanket over his head and remained motionless until I gathered him in my arms. After putting him down on the bed, I lifted the receiver of the telephone and found it dead. It was obvious that the thieves had cut the telephone wires before entering the house. There was nothing else for us to do but to huddle together under the same blanket and sit, waiting for the apparently never-ending night to end and the dawn to come.
There was one question that pestered us while we sat there, awaiting the morning: "Why didn't our guard dogs bark that night?" We got the answer the next morning: The dogs were poisoned by the thieves.
NOTE. We are very grateful to the Zambian officials for the sympathy they had shown to us and for rendering all possible assistance during the period that followed immediately after the above-mentioned incident. It was found out later that the crime was perpetrated by dissidents from a neighboring country who infiltrated into Zambia through a common border.
Even though I went to bed at about 10.30 PM I did not know how long it took me to fall asleep. I was sleeping soundly when some strange noise woke me up. I was not sure what it was. I lay awake, listening for any further noise.
There it was again. It sounded like the creaking of a bed spring. I slowly got up from my bed and went to my son's bedroom to see if my ten-year old son had been turning in his bed during sleep. I found him sleeping peacefully. I returned to my room and found my wife already awake and looking out through one of the windows. I happened to note the time on the bedside clock as five minutes past two in the morning.
It was very quiet outside. There was sufficient light for us to see the plants in our garden, the wire-fence at the far end of the property known as No.34, David Kaunda drive, part of my drive-way, the double-gates and the trees on the other side of the road, in the compound of Pamodzi primary school. There was hardly any movement. The trees stood mute and motionless, bathed in the dim silvery moonlight and there was not even the distant hum of a motor car on the highway or the barking of stray dogs in the neighbourhood.
Suddenly it struck me very odd that my two guard dogs, Snowy and Sooty were nowhere to be seen. At night, they always used to be somewhere around, but not far from the vicinity of our bedrooms. I looked through one of the windows into the second garage where my Fiat was parked. The car stood bathed in the bright light of the overhead fluorescent lamp but there was no sign of the dogs.
The silence was ominous. I shuffled on bare feet through the narrow corridor in between the bedrooms and the living room to reach the door at the far end that gave access to the kitchen. That door was bolted on the inside with a heavy brass bolt. I did not notice the light that was filtering in through the small glass window at the top.
Without any hesitation, I pulled the bolt and opened the door. What happened during the next few moments took place so fast that I could not comprehend fully what exactly was happening. I had an impression of three or four people rushing in through the door and I felt at the same time as if some heavy object was falling on my left shoulder. However, I did not feel any pain but only heaviness. Then I felt being pushed backwards as if in the midst of a crowd along the corridor until I found myself in my bedroom and my wife standing at the far window, still clutching the pull-switch of the security alarm which I could hear wailing like a banshee from the roof-top. As its shrill cry shattered the silence of the night air, one of the intruders managed to grab the cord of the pull-switch and stop it. The apparent leader of the gang brandished a gleaming knife at us and ordered both of us to lie down on the carpet and we obeyed promptly.
There were four of them. One appeared very huge and wore a face-mask. He gave short, crisp orders and the others complied with. They forced open locked cupboards and ransacked shelves and drawers. They pulled out the contents and scattered them on the floor. The leader kept on asking for American dollars which we did not have any. They gathered electronic equipments, wrist watches, and anything else that attracted their attention, but very little money as we did not keep any large amounts at home. They looked into my son's bedroom briefly but did not take anything from there. Then they left, taking the house-keys and the car keys along with them so that we would not get out of the house immediately and follow them or go to the police. However, we were too scared to even move out of the bedroom.
As soon as I heard the front door bang indicating their departure, I ran to my son's bedroom and carried him to our bedroom. The child was shivering. In fact he was awakened by the wailing of the security alarm and had seen the thieves, but was so scared that he pulled the blanket over his head and remained motionless until I gathered him in my arms. After putting him down on the bed, I lifted the receiver of the telephone and found it dead. It was obvious that the thieves had cut the telephone wires before entering the house. There was nothing else for us to do but to huddle together under the same blanket and sit, waiting for the apparently never-ending night to end and the dawn to come.
There was one question that pestered us while we sat there, awaiting the morning: "Why didn't our guard dogs bark that night?" We got the answer the next morning: The dogs were poisoned by the thieves.
NOTE. We are very grateful to the Zambian officials for the sympathy they had shown to us and for rendering all possible assistance during the period that followed immediately after the above-mentioned incident. It was found out later that the crime was perpetrated by dissidents from a neighboring country who infiltrated into Zambia through a common border.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
"AFTER THIRTEEN YEARS OF MARRIED LIFE....."
As I was driving along Lusaka's Cairo road, I saw an Indian gentleman walking along the side-walk, with a brief-case in his hand. He had the appearance of someone from the outstations. I thought of offering him a lift to his immediate destination and pulled up near him. He looked up, saw a fellow-Indian behind the wheel and stood patiently for me to invite him into my Nissan. As it was one of the mid-morning lull periods, there were no "honkings" from behind while other cars swished past.
Soon I came to know that my passenger's name was Meendi Rattha (pronounced 'maendi rath-tha') and he was working as a teacher of English in the Luapula province of Zambia. He was from the uttar pradesh in north India. His immediate destination was the office of the Indian High Commission. As I also wanted to collect a few application forms from there, I assured Mr. Rattha that I could drop him there and he thanked me profusely.
After parking my car we went up the steps to the "Reception". There was a lady in attendance. She smiled at us and asked what she could do for us. To my great surprise Mr. Rattha burst out into a small speech which ran out something like this: "After thirteen years of married life my wife decided to go to India on account of her brother's son's marriage which is supposed to take place by the end of next month and as a result...." By that time, the lady behind the counter managed to stop the monologue and asked him what he wanted exactly. Without being interrupted, Mr. Rattha told her in so many words that the reason for his visit was to apply for a separate passport for his wife as they were on a joint- passport at present. The lady directed us to one of the inner rooms. It was a large room with three people sitting behind their individual desks. I saw the desk marked "Application Forms" and went there to collect the forms that I needed. In the meanwhile Mr. Rattha approached the central desk where a distinguished looking gentleman was seated. As he looked at Mr.Rattha enquiringly, he exploded into his monologue "After thirteen years of married life...." and went on about halfway through the story before the gentleman managed to stop him. He then told him very patiently that his wife would have to apply for a new passport and her name would have to be deleted from the joint-passport. He was asked to go to the next room and meet the Consular Agent who would assist him with the procedure and tell him what all documents would be required.
As I had already collected my forms, I thought I would now leave the office and go home. Mr.Rattha was in good hands and the teachers' hostel where he stayed was within walking distance. I made my departure as he was just entering the Consular Agent's room. While I went down the steps I could hear once again Mr. Ratha's voice echoing from somewhere inside the building "After thirteen years of married life, my wife..........."
Soon I came to know that my passenger's name was Meendi Rattha (pronounced 'maendi rath-tha') and he was working as a teacher of English in the Luapula province of Zambia. He was from the uttar pradesh in north India. His immediate destination was the office of the Indian High Commission. As I also wanted to collect a few application forms from there, I assured Mr. Rattha that I could drop him there and he thanked me profusely.
After parking my car we went up the steps to the "Reception". There was a lady in attendance. She smiled at us and asked what she could do for us. To my great surprise Mr. Rattha burst out into a small speech which ran out something like this: "After thirteen years of married life my wife decided to go to India on account of her brother's son's marriage which is supposed to take place by the end of next month and as a result...." By that time, the lady behind the counter managed to stop the monologue and asked him what he wanted exactly. Without being interrupted, Mr. Rattha told her in so many words that the reason for his visit was to apply for a separate passport for his wife as they were on a joint- passport at present. The lady directed us to one of the inner rooms. It was a large room with three people sitting behind their individual desks. I saw the desk marked "Application Forms" and went there to collect the forms that I needed. In the meanwhile Mr. Rattha approached the central desk where a distinguished looking gentleman was seated. As he looked at Mr.Rattha enquiringly, he exploded into his monologue "After thirteen years of married life...." and went on about halfway through the story before the gentleman managed to stop him. He then told him very patiently that his wife would have to apply for a new passport and her name would have to be deleted from the joint-passport. He was asked to go to the next room and meet the Consular Agent who would assist him with the procedure and tell him what all documents would be required.
As I had already collected my forms, I thought I would now leave the office and go home. Mr.Rattha was in good hands and the teachers' hostel where he stayed was within walking distance. I made my departure as he was just entering the Consular Agent's room. While I went down the steps I could hear once again Mr. Ratha's voice echoing from somewhere inside the building "After thirteen years of married life, my wife..........."
Monday, April 20, 2009
THE SCHOOL FETE
It was headmaster Pillay's idea that a fete should be organized in order to raise funds for the School Bus Project. During the previous P.T.A (Parent Teacher Association) meeting the School Bus Project was approved and the headmaster was authorized to raise funds using whatever means he deemed fit. The suggestion to conduct a fete was received whole-heartedly by the staff and a committee consisting of volunteers was formed forthwith. The headmaster and the deputy-head being the ex-officio members of this committee, it was empowered with the task of planning the details and forming various sub-committees for the execution of the plan.
It was decided to conduct the fete in the school-campus itself which was large enough for the purpose. A suitable date was fixed and various sub-committees such as the planning committee, the publicity committee, the seating and room-allocation committee, the entertainment committee, and the reception committee were formed.
Starting from the very next day after the formation of the committees, there was a flurry of activities as the various committees began their work. Workers got busy trimming the lawn, clearing the grass and weeds around the football field, painting the posts and railings around the tennis and basket ball courts as well as the swimming pool, putting a new coat of paint on the old buildings, the compound wall and other structures. Lessons were either interrupted or suspended as urgent meetings were called or pupils were pulled out for rehearsals. Various departments started organizing their exhibits for display during the fete. The Needlework section of the Domestic Science department concentrated on making dresses, baby-ware and dolls while the Cookery section made plans for baking cakes, scones, doughnuts and other eatables for sale on the big day. The Science department decided to put up exhibits of a competitive nature in all the three laboratories. Participants had to pay a small entry fee, but winners would be rewarded adequately. The English, Geography, History and Mathematics departments made arrangements for the display and sale of books, charts, maps, models, souvenirs, replicas etc. and for some competitions using electrical quiz boards on which coloured bulbs would light up when correct answers were given. The Art department built up a collection of magnificent paintings, clay models, statues and pottery. The Metalwork and Woodwork departments got busy making knives, shovels, tool-boxes, stools, cabinets etc. for display and for sale. In addition to what the departments put up, there were other interesting items like a jumble sale to sell hundreds of surplus items such as disused shoes, ties, caps, clothing, dolls, toys or any other useful article donated by pupils and teachers, a shooting range where you could try your luck by shooting with an air gun at paper ducks that were kept moving and also a "fish pond" where you could "fish" for gifts. It was also decided that an entry fee would be collected at the gates.
As the fete-day drew nearer, the air of expectancy deepened. The sub-committees started meeting almost every day to review the progress. In the meanwhile an advance amount was paid from the PTA fund to Toyota agents in Lusaka to book a 26 seat Coaster for Mufulira Secondary School and a huge poster bearing the picture of the mini-bus was posted on the main notice board with the caption, "Our School Bus- Soon A Reality".
At last the great day arrived. All the arrangements had been finished by nightfall of the previous day. There was multi-coloured bunting all around the central court-yard and on both sides of the paths leading to the amphitheatre, football field and gymnastics court. Hundreds of coloured flags were hung from clothe-lines stretched all over the place and massive multi-coloured umbrellas were placed in different parts of the main court-yard, with chairs arranged in circles. This is where people would sit and enjoy the refreshments that were on sale. As the fete would start at 2 PM only, the morning session was devoted for applying finishing touches. We could see the Cadets practising already their march-past in the football field and hear their band. The prefects in their smart uniform were at the gates and all over the school campus keeping an eye on the pupils who were moving about either on duty or on various other pretexts.
When the gates opened at 2 PM there was an onrush of people who were waiting outside for a considerable time. The prefects at the gates handled the crowd well and ensured that each one would get an entry ticket before being admitted in. The band at the reception foyer struck a welcome note and volunteers among the pupils led the visitors to the starting place from where they could follow the signs that were put up by our artists throughout the school campus which had been transformed into a wonderland of fun and amusement.
It took more than two hours for the spectators to pass through the departmental stalls, science laboratories, art, woodwork and metalwork rooms etc. Once they came out in the open, there were many other attractions such as Indian and African dances, plays in the amphitheatre, cadet march, gymnastics etc. which everyone was free to watch.
Soon it was 5 PM and people were still coming in. As the campus was overflowing with spectators, it was decided to close any further entry. The cadets allowed people who wanted to leave to use the exit gates, but the entry gates remained closed. However, those who were within the grounds were free to remain until 8 PM to listen to the melodious Indian music concert organized by the Hindu Association of Mufulira as a tribute to the school, which was scheduled to take place soon after the stalls closed at 6 PM.
It was a day of great enjoyment to the people of Mufulira, young and old alike. Not only that the fete was a very successful event, the takings of which enabled us to reach much closer to our target amount for the school bus project, but also was one of the most memorable days in the history of Mufulira Secondary School, under the able leadership of Mr. Arthur J. Pillay.
It was decided to conduct the fete in the school-campus itself which was large enough for the purpose. A suitable date was fixed and various sub-committees such as the planning committee, the publicity committee, the seating and room-allocation committee, the entertainment committee, and the reception committee were formed.
Starting from the very next day after the formation of the committees, there was a flurry of activities as the various committees began their work. Workers got busy trimming the lawn, clearing the grass and weeds around the football field, painting the posts and railings around the tennis and basket ball courts as well as the swimming pool, putting a new coat of paint on the old buildings, the compound wall and other structures. Lessons were either interrupted or suspended as urgent meetings were called or pupils were pulled out for rehearsals. Various departments started organizing their exhibits for display during the fete. The Needlework section of the Domestic Science department concentrated on making dresses, baby-ware and dolls while the Cookery section made plans for baking cakes, scones, doughnuts and other eatables for sale on the big day. The Science department decided to put up exhibits of a competitive nature in all the three laboratories. Participants had to pay a small entry fee, but winners would be rewarded adequately. The English, Geography, History and Mathematics departments made arrangements for the display and sale of books, charts, maps, models, souvenirs, replicas etc. and for some competitions using electrical quiz boards on which coloured bulbs would light up when correct answers were given. The Art department built up a collection of magnificent paintings, clay models, statues and pottery. The Metalwork and Woodwork departments got busy making knives, shovels, tool-boxes, stools, cabinets etc. for display and for sale. In addition to what the departments put up, there were other interesting items like a jumble sale to sell hundreds of surplus items such as disused shoes, ties, caps, clothing, dolls, toys or any other useful article donated by pupils and teachers, a shooting range where you could try your luck by shooting with an air gun at paper ducks that were kept moving and also a "fish pond" where you could "fish" for gifts. It was also decided that an entry fee would be collected at the gates.
As the fete-day drew nearer, the air of expectancy deepened. The sub-committees started meeting almost every day to review the progress. In the meanwhile an advance amount was paid from the PTA fund to Toyota agents in Lusaka to book a 26 seat Coaster for Mufulira Secondary School and a huge poster bearing the picture of the mini-bus was posted on the main notice board with the caption, "Our School Bus- Soon A Reality".
At last the great day arrived. All the arrangements had been finished by nightfall of the previous day. There was multi-coloured bunting all around the central court-yard and on both sides of the paths leading to the amphitheatre, football field and gymnastics court. Hundreds of coloured flags were hung from clothe-lines stretched all over the place and massive multi-coloured umbrellas were placed in different parts of the main court-yard, with chairs arranged in circles. This is where people would sit and enjoy the refreshments that were on sale. As the fete would start at 2 PM only, the morning session was devoted for applying finishing touches. We could see the Cadets practising already their march-past in the football field and hear their band. The prefects in their smart uniform were at the gates and all over the school campus keeping an eye on the pupils who were moving about either on duty or on various other pretexts.
When the gates opened at 2 PM there was an onrush of people who were waiting outside for a considerable time. The prefects at the gates handled the crowd well and ensured that each one would get an entry ticket before being admitted in. The band at the reception foyer struck a welcome note and volunteers among the pupils led the visitors to the starting place from where they could follow the signs that were put up by our artists throughout the school campus which had been transformed into a wonderland of fun and amusement.
It took more than two hours for the spectators to pass through the departmental stalls, science laboratories, art, woodwork and metalwork rooms etc. Once they came out in the open, there were many other attractions such as Indian and African dances, plays in the amphitheatre, cadet march, gymnastics etc. which everyone was free to watch.
Soon it was 5 PM and people were still coming in. As the campus was overflowing with spectators, it was decided to close any further entry. The cadets allowed people who wanted to leave to use the exit gates, but the entry gates remained closed. However, those who were within the grounds were free to remain until 8 PM to listen to the melodious Indian music concert organized by the Hindu Association of Mufulira as a tribute to the school, which was scheduled to take place soon after the stalls closed at 6 PM.
It was a day of great enjoyment to the people of Mufulira, young and old alike. Not only that the fete was a very successful event, the takings of which enabled us to reach much closer to our target amount for the school bus project, but also was one of the most memorable days in the history of Mufulira Secondary School, under the able leadership of Mr. Arthur J. Pillay.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Staff Meeting in a Zambian Boarding School
The very first full-fledged staff meeting that I had the privilege to attend, came up at the beginning of the new term after my arrival in Luwingu. It took place on a Friday before the reopening of schools. The meeting was scheduled for 14.00 hours Zambian time. Even though I wasn’t quite used to the 24 hour clock, I figured it out as 2 PM. In Zambia, it was customary in those days for teachers to wear a tie when they go to their classes. So, being a new teacher, I dressed up properly and reached in time for the meeting. The venue was given as the staff room. When I reached, I found the staff room in great disorder. Even though it was nearly the starting time, the chairs were not arranged properly and the room was very untidy. Some of the early arrivals had pulled up some chairs in a small circle and were involved in animated conversation. Most of them were British or Irish. The men were in their shorts and T-shirts while the ladies were wearing some very short skirt or frock. None of them appeared sufficiently well-dressed for a staff meeting. Mr. Syal, one of the four Indian teachers in the school, was sitting alone in a corner and staring at nothing in particular. He was wearing a clean shirt and tie. A huge Alsatian dog was seated very comfortably on a large chair as if presiding over the meeting. Later I came to know that it belonged to a teacher named Reid who looked like a high school student. The headmaster, Mr. Simposya, arrived very promptly at the starting time, but there were only ten or eleven people present and no one seemed to notice his arrival. However, by 2.15 PM more people were trickling in and soon the meeting was called to order. It appeared that the headmaster, being a very neat and tidy person, was a bit distressed by the general uncleanness of the place and mentioned something to that effect in his opening remarks. Mr. Campbell, the acting deputy head, growled something about the ‘master on duty’ failing to carry out his job and the headmaster checked the duty list on the notice board to find out who was on duty. Reid was on duty but he had ample excuses to offer. He had arrived from the Copperbelt only the previous evening. His servant did not look after the dog properly in his absence so that the dog became very sick and he had to take the dog to the vet that morning and had arrived from there just before the starting time of the meeting. That accounted for the dog’s presence in the meeting but he assured that he had instructed the dog to remain silent during the meeting. He was sort of hinting that the headmaster should be thankful for his presence under such trying conditions. Mr. Simposya did not make any comments but moved on to the next item on the agenda, which was the reading of the minutes of the previous meeting.
I thought the reading of the minutes was a simple affair. Someone who normally takes down the minutes of a meeting reads it out during the next meeting and the minutes will be passed with or without correction. The corrections are made only if some errors were noticed in the minutes. Any progress on the decisions made in the previous meeting or further actions based on the same are discussed during “matters arising”. In Zambia, reading of the minutes takes most part of the time in a meeting. All sorts of questions, discussions, suggestions and observations come up during the reading of the minutes with frequent interruptions of the reading. It appears that we are going on and on in circles. People talk not only about what happened in the previous meeting and what plans were made, but also about what should be our future plans and what some people noticed in some other places sometime back etc.
About half way through the minutes’ reading, three people walked in. They were the Pipers and their neighbor Longridge who were delayed due to some reasons of their own. Now it was the turn of Mr. Simposya to give the newcomers an account of all what happened and what we discussed in their absence, starting from his opening remarks and the general untidiness of the staff room. They too had some explanations to make for their delay, questions to ask and suggestions to make. Another period of discussion followed and no one seemed to be in a hurry to make any progress.
As a result of these lengthy discussions and repetitions, it was almost nightfall and the staff room was getting darker and darker by the time we were not even half way through the agenda. We had no electricity as the diesel tanker from Kasama had not arrived that week and the generator could not be operated as a result. Knowing this, I was very hopeful that the meeting would come to a close very soon and the rest of the items in the agenda would be postponed for discussion on a later date. But to my great dismay, one of the orderlies (‘peons’ are called ‘orderlies’ in Zambia) started bringing in some ‘Tilly’ lamps and placing them in different parts of the room. Soon the staff room was filled with sufficient light to allow the meeting to continue for an indefinite period. I also noticed that most of the people appeared very relaxed and no one seed to be in any particular hurry. Many were sitting with their legs drawn up on to the chair and chain-smoking. Reid’s dog was sitting patiently on its chair and wetting the cushion with its plentiful saliva. The room was littered with hundreds of cigarette stubs and ashes were sprinkled all over the place. The meeting went on unhindered.
By 8 PM I wanted a cup of coffee very badly but there were no provisions for that. I felt like screaming, but thought better of it and decided to go to sleep instead, as some people were already doing. As I was about to doze off, there was a lull in the discussions and a moment of silence prevailed. That was when it came – the sound of very powerful snoring from one of the dark corners. All the eyes were turned in that direction and the culprit was identified, but the sleeping person continued to sleep and snore away, blissfully ignorant of what was happening. It was Mr. M, the teacher of local languages who did the snoring. The headmaster knew when he was licked. Mr.M was a well-respected old man who could not be reprimanded in public even by Mr. Simposya. So he simply called the meeting to a close and I went home with a great sigh of relief, thanking Mr. M silently for the kind action unknowingly performed by him that day.
I thought the reading of the minutes was a simple affair. Someone who normally takes down the minutes of a meeting reads it out during the next meeting and the minutes will be passed with or without correction. The corrections are made only if some errors were noticed in the minutes. Any progress on the decisions made in the previous meeting or further actions based on the same are discussed during “matters arising”. In Zambia, reading of the minutes takes most part of the time in a meeting. All sorts of questions, discussions, suggestions and observations come up during the reading of the minutes with frequent interruptions of the reading. It appears that we are going on and on in circles. People talk not only about what happened in the previous meeting and what plans were made, but also about what should be our future plans and what some people noticed in some other places sometime back etc.
About half way through the minutes’ reading, three people walked in. They were the Pipers and their neighbor Longridge who were delayed due to some reasons of their own. Now it was the turn of Mr. Simposya to give the newcomers an account of all what happened and what we discussed in their absence, starting from his opening remarks and the general untidiness of the staff room. They too had some explanations to make for their delay, questions to ask and suggestions to make. Another period of discussion followed and no one seemed to be in a hurry to make any progress.
As a result of these lengthy discussions and repetitions, it was almost nightfall and the staff room was getting darker and darker by the time we were not even half way through the agenda. We had no electricity as the diesel tanker from Kasama had not arrived that week and the generator could not be operated as a result. Knowing this, I was very hopeful that the meeting would come to a close very soon and the rest of the items in the agenda would be postponed for discussion on a later date. But to my great dismay, one of the orderlies (‘peons’ are called ‘orderlies’ in Zambia) started bringing in some ‘Tilly’ lamps and placing them in different parts of the room. Soon the staff room was filled with sufficient light to allow the meeting to continue for an indefinite period. I also noticed that most of the people appeared very relaxed and no one seed to be in any particular hurry. Many were sitting with their legs drawn up on to the chair and chain-smoking. Reid’s dog was sitting patiently on its chair and wetting the cushion with its plentiful saliva. The room was littered with hundreds of cigarette stubs and ashes were sprinkled all over the place. The meeting went on unhindered.
By 8 PM I wanted a cup of coffee very badly but there were no provisions for that. I felt like screaming, but thought better of it and decided to go to sleep instead, as some people were already doing. As I was about to doze off, there was a lull in the discussions and a moment of silence prevailed. That was when it came – the sound of very powerful snoring from one of the dark corners. All the eyes were turned in that direction and the culprit was identified, but the sleeping person continued to sleep and snore away, blissfully ignorant of what was happening. It was Mr. M, the teacher of local languages who did the snoring. The headmaster knew when he was licked. Mr.M was a well-respected old man who could not be reprimanded in public even by Mr. Simposya. So he simply called the meeting to a close and I went home with a great sigh of relief, thanking Mr. M silently for the kind action unknowingly performed by him that day.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
A Very Dusty Home-coming
We were on the last leg of our journey, returning from a five-day trip to Chilubi Island and Bwangwelu swamps in the Northern Province in connection with the National Census in Zambia. During our voyage from the Island port of Santa Maria to the mainland port of Nsombo, we ran into bad weather and the waves were so high that we thought we were going to capsize. However, now that we were nearing the mainland, the surface of the lake became as smooth as glass and the boat raced evenly like an arrow released from the bowstring. The mid-morning sun cast its bright light on the lake and the port of Nsombo emerged out of the horizon.
However, a great disappointment was awaiting us at Nsombo. There was no government transport available to take us back the sixty kilometers to Luwingu. At the sub Boma they told us that the government “Land-rover” from Luwingu had been coming for us every day for the last three days and returning empty. The vehicle had come this morning also, but went back earlier than usual, i.e. just a few minutes before our arrival. The telephone system was out of order and there was no means in Nsombo to contact Luwingu. This was certainly not one of our lucky days!
We could see the ferry from where we were standing. The Moonraker, the boat in which we had come, was pulling out slowly from the jetty into the great expanse of water. The crew members were on their way to their base at Samfya, after accomplishing their mission. The blue lake, the bright sun and the gleaming white boat made a pretty picture before our eyes, but we were not in a mood to enjoy the scenery. We stood there racking our brains to find a way to reach our final destination.
Perhaps most of my readers may not be able to understand the seriousness of the situation. Like many other remote parts of Africa, Nsombo was a place where the only motorized transport that you could see was a government Land-rover or truck that would appear once in a blue moon on official business. The villagers in those parts never travelled far. The only places they frequented were the fishing areas of the lake and the “bush” from where they collected firewood. No one in a radius of fifty kilometres would have owned a motor vehicle, let alone a bicycle. We were in a ‘fix’ as some people would say.
I don’t remember how long we stood there, contemplating our next move. I thought Mr. Sichangwa, the District Secretary of Luwingu who was the leader of our party would figure out a way, but I could see helplessness written all over his face.
Even before we heard the laboured rumbling of an old motor, we saw a moving cloud of dust at some distance on the winding dirt road. We craned our neck to see what was happening, but could not see anything except a belt of trees on the road side and the dust cloud. Then we saw it, a box-like contraption, moving in our direction. When it came closer, we could distinguish it as what was left of a Land-rover, without any top or sides, a rusty chassis mounted on four wheels with some kind of a platform fixed on it and the engine sounding as if the whole thing would break loose at any moment. There were no seats inside. The driver was perching precariously on the metal skeleton of something which used to be the framework of a seat a few decades ago. But if I say our hearts lifted at the very sight of this moving monstrosity, you can just imagine how desperate our predicament was. The vehicle, if I can call it so, sped up to the jetty and stopped abruptly as the road ended there. The driver wanted to take the vehicle back. While he was making a number of unsuccessful attempts to throw the gears into reverse, Mr. Sichangwa approached the driver and introduced himself as the District Secretary of Luwingu before asking him anything about the vehicle. We learnt that the vehicle belonged to the Department of Agriculture and had been involved in a serious accident sometime back. The wreck was bought in an auction sale after many years by the present owner who was a former mechanic in the Ministry of Works. He rebuilt the vehicle to its present state by improvising the necessary parts from here and there. It was still in a very early stage for making a trial run on the public road, but he was taking a chance as the roads were fairly deserted most of the time. The DS asked him whether he could take the three of us to Luwingu in his vehicle to which he replied with an emphatic “No”. In the first place his vehicle had no road tax or fitness certificate. Then there were other reasons too, he may not have enough fuel in the tank, the engine was misfiring every now and then, the indicators and the hooter were not working, there were no seats and he was afraid that it would break down before reaching its destination. The DS told him that he would give him thirty minutes to adjust the carburetor and check the brakes. He added that he should not worry about the road tax or fitness at the moment as we were on national duty and it was an emergency. He said that he would make sure that the police would not bother him. As for the seats, he told him to organize some mattresses from his home to put inside the vehicle and we would take a chance with the other things such as a possible break-down or running out of fuel. He also promised to pay for his services as soon as we reached Luwingu and also to provide him with sufficient fuel for his return trip. After coaxing him for another fifteen minutes, he agreed finally but with a warning that no blame should be put on him in case the vehicle had a break-down on the way. Then he departed to make the vehicle ready for the trip.
He returned with the vehicle after about an hour and we set off sitting on a couple of old mattresses from which a very unpleasant odor was emanating and with a lot of unfamiliar noises coming from the engine and other parts of the vehicle. As there was no roof or canopy to protect us from wind and sun, we sat there in the scorching heat of the sun, clutching firmly on some part of the bodywork lest we should be thrown out by the repeated jolts or blown apart by the wind. Within a short while we noticed that a lot of red dust was settling over us, but could not do anything about it. The journey was pure torture by the combined effects of heat, wind and jolts. The many bumps and ditches on the road as well as the twists and turns of the road were all taken at such a high speed that we thought we could hear the rattling of our bones within the body. The driver did not utter a single word throughout the journey that appeared to go on for ever and he totally ignored our plea to reduce the speed. However, the vehicle did neither break down nor run out of fuel until we reached Luwingu late in the afternoon, tired and hungry, aching in all the joints and completely covered from head to foot in red dust so that we all looked like creatures from another planet and beyond recognition even by our own mothers. The Land-rover dropped me at my home and I could see by the expression on my wife’s face that she was panic-stricken on the very sight of this apparition before recognizing me as her beloved husband and the vehicle as the moving wreck of an old Land-rover. It was of great consolation to me to know that I was just in time to stop my wife from going to the police to file a complaint about her missing husband who left home five days ago on national duty. Some of the neighbours who looked up at the high-pitched whining sound of the vehicle and witnessed my home-coming expressed later their delight in seeing me back in ‘one piece’ even though in a very shabby and unrecognizable state.
.
However, a great disappointment was awaiting us at Nsombo. There was no government transport available to take us back the sixty kilometers to Luwingu. At the sub Boma they told us that the government “Land-rover” from Luwingu had been coming for us every day for the last three days and returning empty. The vehicle had come this morning also, but went back earlier than usual, i.e. just a few minutes before our arrival. The telephone system was out of order and there was no means in Nsombo to contact Luwingu. This was certainly not one of our lucky days!
We could see the ferry from where we were standing. The Moonraker, the boat in which we had come, was pulling out slowly from the jetty into the great expanse of water. The crew members were on their way to their base at Samfya, after accomplishing their mission. The blue lake, the bright sun and the gleaming white boat made a pretty picture before our eyes, but we were not in a mood to enjoy the scenery. We stood there racking our brains to find a way to reach our final destination.
Perhaps most of my readers may not be able to understand the seriousness of the situation. Like many other remote parts of Africa, Nsombo was a place where the only motorized transport that you could see was a government Land-rover or truck that would appear once in a blue moon on official business. The villagers in those parts never travelled far. The only places they frequented were the fishing areas of the lake and the “bush” from where they collected firewood. No one in a radius of fifty kilometres would have owned a motor vehicle, let alone a bicycle. We were in a ‘fix’ as some people would say.
I don’t remember how long we stood there, contemplating our next move. I thought Mr. Sichangwa, the District Secretary of Luwingu who was the leader of our party would figure out a way, but I could see helplessness written all over his face.
Even before we heard the laboured rumbling of an old motor, we saw a moving cloud of dust at some distance on the winding dirt road. We craned our neck to see what was happening, but could not see anything except a belt of trees on the road side and the dust cloud. Then we saw it, a box-like contraption, moving in our direction. When it came closer, we could distinguish it as what was left of a Land-rover, without any top or sides, a rusty chassis mounted on four wheels with some kind of a platform fixed on it and the engine sounding as if the whole thing would break loose at any moment. There were no seats inside. The driver was perching precariously on the metal skeleton of something which used to be the framework of a seat a few decades ago. But if I say our hearts lifted at the very sight of this moving monstrosity, you can just imagine how desperate our predicament was. The vehicle, if I can call it so, sped up to the jetty and stopped abruptly as the road ended there. The driver wanted to take the vehicle back. While he was making a number of unsuccessful attempts to throw the gears into reverse, Mr. Sichangwa approached the driver and introduced himself as the District Secretary of Luwingu before asking him anything about the vehicle. We learnt that the vehicle belonged to the Department of Agriculture and had been involved in a serious accident sometime back. The wreck was bought in an auction sale after many years by the present owner who was a former mechanic in the Ministry of Works. He rebuilt the vehicle to its present state by improvising the necessary parts from here and there. It was still in a very early stage for making a trial run on the public road, but he was taking a chance as the roads were fairly deserted most of the time. The DS asked him whether he could take the three of us to Luwingu in his vehicle to which he replied with an emphatic “No”. In the first place his vehicle had no road tax or fitness certificate. Then there were other reasons too, he may not have enough fuel in the tank, the engine was misfiring every now and then, the indicators and the hooter were not working, there were no seats and he was afraid that it would break down before reaching its destination. The DS told him that he would give him thirty minutes to adjust the carburetor and check the brakes. He added that he should not worry about the road tax or fitness at the moment as we were on national duty and it was an emergency. He said that he would make sure that the police would not bother him. As for the seats, he told him to organize some mattresses from his home to put inside the vehicle and we would take a chance with the other things such as a possible break-down or running out of fuel. He also promised to pay for his services as soon as we reached Luwingu and also to provide him with sufficient fuel for his return trip. After coaxing him for another fifteen minutes, he agreed finally but with a warning that no blame should be put on him in case the vehicle had a break-down on the way. Then he departed to make the vehicle ready for the trip.
He returned with the vehicle after about an hour and we set off sitting on a couple of old mattresses from which a very unpleasant odor was emanating and with a lot of unfamiliar noises coming from the engine and other parts of the vehicle. As there was no roof or canopy to protect us from wind and sun, we sat there in the scorching heat of the sun, clutching firmly on some part of the bodywork lest we should be thrown out by the repeated jolts or blown apart by the wind. Within a short while we noticed that a lot of red dust was settling over us, but could not do anything about it. The journey was pure torture by the combined effects of heat, wind and jolts. The many bumps and ditches on the road as well as the twists and turns of the road were all taken at such a high speed that we thought we could hear the rattling of our bones within the body. The driver did not utter a single word throughout the journey that appeared to go on for ever and he totally ignored our plea to reduce the speed. However, the vehicle did neither break down nor run out of fuel until we reached Luwingu late in the afternoon, tired and hungry, aching in all the joints and completely covered from head to foot in red dust so that we all looked like creatures from another planet and beyond recognition even by our own mothers. The Land-rover dropped me at my home and I could see by the expression on my wife’s face that she was panic-stricken on the very sight of this apparition before recognizing me as her beloved husband and the vehicle as the moving wreck of an old Land-rover. It was of great consolation to me to know that I was just in time to stop my wife from going to the police to file a complaint about her missing husband who left home five days ago on national duty. Some of the neighbours who looked up at the high-pitched whining sound of the vehicle and witnessed my home-coming expressed later their delight in seeing me back in ‘one piece’ even though in a very shabby and unrecognizable state.
.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Neither Too Early Nor Too Late
We were on our way back to Luwingu from the remote village of Fube (pronounced "foobey") after an operation in connection with the National Census in Zambia. There were five of us in the boat, including the district secretary(D.S) of Luwingu and me, the senior census officer for the district. The Moonraker, a 30 ft. cabin cruiser which could do upto 35 knots in the open sea was now making about 6 to 8 knots in the treacherous Bangwelu swamps.
It was Thursday afternoon. In fact, we should have been back home by Tuesday evening. The reason for the delay was due to the fact that our skipper who boasted at the commencement of our journey that he knew the waterways of the swamps as good as the lines on the palm of his hands, lost his way miserably and got us all stranded, but for the help of some local fishermen. It goes without saying that we lost a lot of precious time, effort and fuel as a result. However, we accomplished our mission and were on our way back. Our going was very slow because of the many sand bars in the canal and also due to the presence of under-water weeds that kept on getting entangled on the propellers. Even though we were very anxious to reach home, we knew that we would have to spend the night at the island port of Santa Maria and resume our journey early next morning.
We were sitting on deck chairs and chatting. The D.S casually asked the skipper how long it would take to reach Santa Maria. He hesitated before answering and then said "may be two hours unless our tanks run dry".
We were startled. We never knew we were on the brink of running short of fuel. "What about the reserve tank?" the D.S asked. "We are almost at its bottom. May be another ten km" was the reply.
The D.S and I looked at each other. We were given to understand at the start of the trip that we had more than enough diesel. The boat had an extra fuel tank for surplus fuel and the skipper had been instructed to ensure that both tanks were filled up before commencing our journey.
Apart from losing our way in the swamps, we had another misfortune. The skipper's assistant who was new, fiddled with the boat's wireless set and made it inoperative soon after we started on our voyage. As a result we had no means of communication at present. There were no passenger boats operating through the swamps. Our food supply also was running very short and each one of us was longing to reach home and have a decent meal and proper sleep.
We travelled for another thirty minutes or so, and found ourselves at the mouth of the canal leading from the river. It was good that we were at last out of the swamps, but still we had to go far. Even though we were nowhere near the passenger-boat service lane, if someone came along in a canoe, the skipper's mate could go to Santa Maria and send a wireless message to Bwangwelu Water transport company in Samfya which owned the boat to arrange for some fuel. Even then it would take several hours before we could get out of this jam.
Now that we were in river Chambeshi, the skipper could have opened up the throttle and sent the boat at full speed. But as the tank would run dry at any moment, he kept the boat moving under minimum acceleration. As we cleared the turn-off, a lone bottle store from where we bought soft drinks two days ago came into sight. We decided to stop there and explore the possibilities of communicating with the outside world.
The bottle-store appeared empty and forlorn. It was nearly 2 PM. As there were no people around at this time of the day, our arrival did not create any excitement. While the skipper's mate made the boat fast to the railing of the rickety jetty, we noticed a 200 litre drum like the ones they use to transport petroleum products lying on the river bank, a little distance away from the jetty. It was rusty and appeared as if abandoned by someone a long time back. However, the skipper went and examined it. It was either stuck fast in the mud or filled with something, as it would not move easily. He went and made enquiries at the bottle-store. The man at the store told him that the drum contained some diesel that was dropped there at lunch time by a passenger boat from Santa Maria. The boat crew had instructed to give the diesel to one of their charter boats by name “Moonraker” which had gone to the swamps a few days ago as it would have exhausted its stock of fuel by this time. He showed us a written message scrawled on a piece of paper. It simply read "Diesel for Moonraker".
We did not know whether to laugh or cry for joy. There was no difficulty in convincing the store-keeper that we were from the Moonraker as the name was written clearly on the side of our boat. The man at the store came out to assist us in siphoning the diesel into the boat’s tanks and we proceeded on our way after thanking him profusely. We also felt so grateful to someone at Bwangwelu Corporation in Samfya who was thoughtful enough to visualize our predicament and ordered one of their passenger boats to deviate from its normal route and make a side trip of more than thirty kilometres to assist us even before receiving any message for help from us. Above all, we thanked God for sending this timely help that came neither too early nor too late.
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