Trip - July/August -2006

LUSAKA

Lusaka! Home away from home!  An hour has not passed since my arrival and I am swamped with merchants, vendors, runners and people selling their wares. Hundreds of masks, statues and beautiful treasures are spread out on the ground around us.  Bargaining, haggling, raised voices, entreaties to the gods! Yeah, it was good to be back. My heart was pumping and my head reeling with the overload of sensations. This is the part of Africa I so ravenously crave. 

I spent my first week purchasing, meeting up with old friends, organizing transport, food, rations, and of course, gifts for our friends out in the bush.  

KAOMA

Kaoma and the orphans of the Chesire Community Center is always my first stop when venturing out towards the Zambezi. It has become a pilgrimage for me. The excitement and pleasure that the young children show when I get there, is beyond words.  I gave my customary food supplies, gifts, and donations to Rita, the head of the home (thanks to all of you!), and then watched as the children plunged with enthusiasm into the bags of clothing, choosing, and putting on their new found treasures. Alas, the news that some of the young children succumbed to their illness saddened me immensely. Rita assured me that they had been cared for with love and dignity until the end.

I spent several days in the region, getting reacquainted with some old friends, traveling the surrounding areas, purchasing lots of great items. Leaving Kaoma and heading towards Mongu, I stumbled across Kapalu and Kalelwa, masked ancestral guardians,  roaming the streets collecting contributions for the Mukanda camps of the region. They looked at me knowingly, and the air around me sizzled with the feeling that this trip would be an extraordinary one.

CHIVANDA

At Chivanda village I met up with Ackson Lumbala, the Chikenzi (mukanda doctor), and Benny Muyobo, a good friend who is an elder of the village hosting this years Mukanda camp. I was in for a surprise! They felt it was time for me to stay in the mukanda camp and not in the nearby village as I have always done in the past. This was extraordinary as it is nearly impossible for a “foreigner” and especially a white man, to stay in the camp. My repeated journeys to the region and contact with them over the years had finally come to fruition. The only prerequisite was that I had learn the Tusoma signs and symbols of the camp (read more about them here). In preparation to enter the mukanda enclosure,  I agreed to undergo a cleansing ritual and a tattooing with magical ingredients. It was my way of showing respect to my hosts, for taking me in and accepting me as one of their own. 

The next morning I was given a potion of roots, bitter and vile. As the day progressed violent cramps took hold of me with sweating and vomiting soon to follow. I alternated between a  semi hallucinatory state, with the world around me coming alive and whispering ancestral secrets and a state of despair, with my rushing off into the bush to relieve myself. 

Once done, I was escorted back to the village and fed a chicken and corn meal. I was taught the symbols of the camp, which I went over several times until I fell into a fitful sleep. At daybreak we awoke to a beautiful sunny day and of course the inevitable tattooing session. Here I was given the name "Chindele Mbunda" which means white Mbunda (because of my large cheeks). What an honor!

While walking around the enclosure, lost in a daydream of wonder, scrutinizing all the masks and symbols around the camp, the drums started beating loudly. I looked around startled and  was beckoned to the edge of a crowd that was forming in one end of the enclosure. My head started reeling when I finally saw what the commotion was about. There in front of me was a naked man held down tightly by two men. He was being circumcised! I couldn't believe it! It took all my will power to watch and record this surreal scene.

After ten excruciating minutes it was over. I sat down to catch my breath and was given katsasu (millet beer). The man who was circumcised smiled weekly and seemed thankful it was over. I soon found out that he was a Lozi man who had married a Lovale woman and to fit into the community had decided to undergo the procedure. 

One may view the whole circumcision and read more it here. (Please note that some images are graphic and not for everyone).

The rest of the afternoon was spent drinking more katsasu and having a merry old time. Night fell quickly and the roaring fire danced and leapt on the leafy enclosure walls. A young attendant closed the gates to the mukanda camp, sealing us from the outside world.

The night was aloud with sound and laughter. Sporadic song would break out suddenly, one unified voice letting the village know all is well with the young boys. Lying there, I looked over at Nyasemi standing proud and tall in her corner. In the flickering light of the fire she seemed so larger than life and I could have sworn I saw Mupala, Chikunza, Katatola, and myriads of ancestral Likishi swarming out of her and dancing in the tree tops to the rhythm of the flames. Smiling down on me they let me know that I was good hands.

I spent over a week coming and going from the mukanda camp, roving the surrounding region to do my purchasing. It allowed me to see more of the life of the camp, see how masks were made, watch the young boys learning to dance, and have some insightful conversations with the elders. (This will all be incorporated into our story of the Mukanda ritual). It was a melancholic day when I finally left, heading for the Zambezi and Angola.

KALABO

On the way to the borders of Angola to meet up with some of my regular vendors, I stopped in the village of Kalabo. There I had the wonderful opportunity to meet Chief Mundu, the Mbunda Chief, who agreed to see me. To enter the Royal Compound and ask for permission to be seen, we had to do a special clapping session with heads bowed and knelt on the ground.

Chief Mundu "rules" Kalabo. He heard about my adventures in the Mukanda camps, and was pleased at my interest. He believes strongly in tradition, and stated that he would encourage circumcision and the mukanda camps as long as possible. He feels that the world tends to view Africa as a poor continent, dying of disease and aids and overlooks the proud traditions that are still present. Although western technological influences are slowly infiltrating into the western regions of Zambia, he feels strongly that this region will remain steeped in its traditions. It was a very humbling meeting.

I spent a few more days traveling in the region before heading back to Lusaka and a much needed rest before heading to the southern Democratic Republic of Congo.

LUBUMBASHI- DRC.

So much for foresight. Here I was in the Dem. Republic of Congo during the elections. Posters were everywhere and people were excited at the prospect of choosing their own government.  Yet an underlying current of tension and fear was present as everyone readily knew that the situation could easily degenerate into chaos. It is a a crazy place, where logic is thrown on its head and you have to let the madness take hold of you. It will eat you alive if you don't! Trains were not running, soldiers were everywhere and movement to the interior was quite difficult. We lived through blackouts and under armed guard, with the fear of "piage" (siege) on the night of the preliminary election results. I still managed to get some beautiful pieces. The electrifying energy had me pumped to the point that my visa had expired and I let it ride.

I came across the Community organization of Centre de Reveil. It is a center which is run by the church and the larger community with the aim of assisting those in need - orphans, war victims, aids victims, and the physically handicapped. It became apparent that this center needed assistance and we vowed to help (Read more here).

On my return to Zambia, I was stopped at the border, and my expired visa and camera were enough for the guards to throw me in a cell and accuse me of spying. Hours of pleading, negotiating, feeling totally helpless and at their mercy. It took a bit of arm twisting, but finally they accepted to take the money I had in my possession and let me go. As I left I humbly thanked Vincent, the leader of the guards and shook his hand. He smiled, gave me his cellular number and told me to look him up next time I come to the Congo! This, dear friends, is the madness of Africa.

LUSAKA

The usual lunacy of packing the container and getting ready for shipping engulfed my last week. It was only on my last night before my journey back home to Canada, sitting around the camp fire that I managed to relax. I reflected back on my trip and realized that Africa has shown me many of her faces. She had summoned and reincarnated her spirit beings in her Mukanda camps. I drank her potions and had her scars on me. She had shared her knowledge and culture with me. She also showed me her corruptness and instilled fear in me. She showed me how fickle life can be. She humbled me! Raising my beer to the moon I drank to her health and to the next time we would meet.

Yiannis

October 2006

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