President Mwanawasa's Death and American Leaders

Trevor, 18

Trevor spent years on the street before his stay at Fountain of Hope Shelter. From there, he was sponsored to attend a boarding school. He now lives independently in Misisi Compound in Lusaka, Zambia.

Two days ago, on August 19th, President Mwanawasa's death was announced, and Zambia is in a seven day mourning period. Trevor selected a book about American Presidents, and we discussed the late Zambian leader, American leaders and politics in both Zambia and the United States.

Books: Our Country's Presidents by Ann Bausum

Autobiography of a People: Three Centuries of African-American History Told by
Those Who Lived It edited by Herb Boyd: excerpt from Where Do We Go from Here? by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

me: What are your thoughts on President Mwanawasa's death?

Trevor: It's very sad. He was a good president because he brought democracy and fought corruption. He introduced departments to fight corruption. He helped change police force corruption by giving them higher salaries. In the past, the police collected money and let the criminals go. It will happens, but it happens less now.

me: Did the news inspire you to pick up this book?

Trevor: Yes. I really like JFK. I even saw a movie about him. His politics helped people, but he was killed in a car because of his politics. Opposition leaders wanted to take charge because President Kennedy was active.

This is like Mwanawasa. Some liked him, and some hated him because he offered something new. I can't tell if someone killed him or not. They say he collapsed at the African Union Summit, but they do not tell us how. Maybe someone put something in his water. By the time he was taken to the hospital, he was in a coma. I'm very very sad. I supported him.

In sub-Saharan Africa, if you can imagine, we are the only country with peace. No violence, no civil war. You go to Angola, Congo [DRC], Kenya, even Malawi in the past and South Africa where they don't like Zimbabweans, and they are killing people. Zambia is not that way.

me: Do you think Mwanawasa is like any of the presidents in this book?

Trevor: Maybe Clinton. I like Clinton. America has been in wars, like those introduced by President George W. Bush, but Clinton was a wise man and did not do the same. I thought his wife would have been wise. I don't know why she wasn't voted. I supported her. I don't know if Obama would be good.

Sata would not be a good president. He doesn't like foreigners, and that is bad. But I do not like the wages that foreigners give to Zambians. They are too low.

Where are you coming from?

me: New York City.

Trevor: Is New York the capital, as well? Or is it just Washington?

me: Ha! Just Washington.

[enter long conversation about New York.]

Trevor: Here is Bill Clinton. And here is Martin Luther King. Was he a prime minister? He was not a president.

me: No, he was a civil rights leader. Do you want to read about him? I can tell you about him, too, although I'm sure I don't remember everything!

Trevor: Yes! Please, where is it?

[after reading some of it]

Trevor: This is a very nice book. I will read the words of Martin Luther King.

[later in the day]

Trevor: I love this book. I knew some before, but now I know what he was doing in America. I like the statement by John Kenneth Galbraith. He said that if you could spend 35 billion dollars on the Vietnam War and 20 billion to send a man to the moon, why can't America spend something to get blacks back together? It's an interesting idea. I've benefited from American donors in terms of education. The doctors help develop the drugs for HIV/AIDS, and we depend on that help. America should help as much as they can.

Also, Martin Luther King talked about love. Not the romantic love. He said where there is love, there is no violence. You can't pull dark from darkness. You can't murder hate.

[long discussion following...]

me: Aren't you glad you read this today?

Trevor: Yeah, yeah. It explains a lot. Tomorrow I will read another one from this book. Maybe one per day.

me: Great! I'll be here again to discuss it with you.

Trevor: Shall we meet tomorrow, say 13 hours?

me: Okay, see you then!

Trevor: Look! There is one called "LL Cool J on rap."

me: That is hilarious. Let's read that one, too.

Tonga Village Visit

I had the incredible opportunity to visit a Tonga village in the Southern Province of Zambia with a friend who spent his childhood there. Singani village has not been exposed to missionaries or aid workers, so it was quite a culturally enriching experience.

I purchased a traditional chitenge to wear out of respect for their way of life. Chitenges are often worn in Lusaka, as well. I slept in a mud hut and participated in the rigorous daily tasks of the Tonga women, including fetching water from the well for cooking and bathing and carrying it on my head, attempting (and failing) to hold firewood on my head, selecting a live chicken and preparing it, sweeping around the huts in the morning amongst the guinea fowl, and preparing dinner around fires we built in the evening.

I learned a great deal about herbal remedies and even spoke to a local healer. One of the grandmothers and I were able to communicate through my friend's translation. She explained that slavery continued long after the government and historical texts reported its end. White tobacco farmers started a hybrid language called Chilungu Boy to speak to their workers, and she remarked that she wished I knew it. It was surreal to have someone imagine that I might speak a "language" born out of slavery. She also described the annihilation of game populations after rampant poaching, among other fascinating tales of Colonization's effect on village life.

I packed a book from the Lubuto collection with me. I was breaking the rules by removing a book from the library, but books simply do not exist in villages, and I couldn't resist the once in a lifetime chance to share a story with the children there. On the long, late, uncomfortable bus ride (a given in Africa), I had my friend translate the story to Tonga and help me with pronunciation. I made sure to select a story without Western references or aspects of modernity they wouldn't recognize.

The children loved the book, lingering on every word. There is a strong possibility their acute attention was due in part to my presence in general, but it was a Lubuto success nonetheless.

It was an honor to be welcomed in Singani village. I distributed much needed and seldom affordable products: bars of soap, Mealie Meal to make nshima, cooking oil, sugar...and some much appreciated Cadbury products, as well! I was presented with a pineapple from the gardens as a parting gift.

Below are two photos of the children's story time and two for the sake of cuteness.

The Streets at Night.

Vasco knows many of the children and young adults living on the street, and he makes weekly trips after dark to promote the Fountain of Hope shelter and the library. I went along last Wednesday to see life on the street for myself. Keesjan Husselman, a film student in Amsterdam who has lived and spent a great deal of time in Africa, was shooting a documentary on street children, and he came, too. We walked along train tracks through downtown Lusaka to the bus station where we met a group of young kids. Vasco introduced me to two of the kids who stay on the street but come to the library, and they came to my storytime. They told me they liked the Zambian folk tale from Nelson Mandela's Favorite African Folk Tales, as they stood around tables outside shops. We left the bus station and headed to a dusty space concealed by concrete walls where many of the kids sleep at night. It can only be accessed through a small crawl space where a metal sheet was pried open. Next to an abandoned, rust-covered car are long, rectangular slabs of concrete, hollow inside and serving as sleeping areas. No one was around, so I was able to capture it on film:

I'm becoming accustomed to being the only female in dangerous situations, and Vasco thought we should skip the Soweto Market where the older kids convene at night. Of course, I insisted on going and assured him I would not take any photos. The market is crowded during the day, each wooden stand filled with vendors and their goods, but at night it's black and desolate, and we used lighters and cell phones to walk through it. In the back of the market next to an open field, we found the kids standing in groups, most near the bonfires they build in the last row of the market. They were very nice and respectful and not at all what I anticipated. Zambian music was playing, and I even danced along with a couple of them. Many escape the lure of street drugs, but many use an inhalant called Sticka, which is huffed from a bottle. A few kids holding bottles, eyes glazed over, approached me laughing and slurring "Madam" repeatedly. I was determined to get a few photos, hiding my camera underneath my hoodie and using the natural light setting. It was a foolish thing to do, and I'd been warned against it. I walked away from the group, aiming my camera at the groups gathered around the fires. Three kids followed me because they assumed I distanced myself out of fear.

"Why do you fear us?", one asked me.

"I don't fear you, I just wanted to look at the fires."

"No, you are scared of us! You see our suffering, and you are afraid."

In my defense, his friend said, "She is not scared, she is looking at the fire."

I covertly put my camera away and joined the group around the fires. There were probably forty of them altogether. Street kids form groups, and this group has a lot of respect for Vasco. It is dangerous at night, needless to say. Theft and violence against outsiders and within the street community are common. One kid unzipped Keesjan's backpack. He was from another group across the market, and this group decided they wanted to punish him for it. They have established a rapport of trust and friendship with Vasco, and an attempt to steal from Vasco's friend reflects poorly on them. Keesjan told them he forgave the guy for trying to steal, but we left shortly after that incident. I was filthy and shocked and left the market in silence. Millions of kids in sub-Saharan Africa live that way.

note: For respect and safety reasons, I took these photographs covertly using a natural light setting (with the exception of the photo of me in the car).

gathering on the street

inside their hidden area that houses their "beds"

the bonfires in the market

beds are on the right side along the wall

walking through the market

Lubuto artists

On Saturdays, people come from outside centers to use the facilities, and special programs are offered.

In the arts building, young artists worked on oil paintings although their instructor, a Zambian painter who also teaches art at the international school, is away for the next few weeks. I was amazed at the work of one student in particular, but they were all generally well done. I spoke to each student about their paintings and recorded their names, ages, their works' titles and anything else they wanted to add about their work, and I photographed them with their paintings and their paintings alone:

Robby Musole, age 18
lives in Kamwala, Lusaka
title: Makisha Ceremony, 2008

"I was born in the Western Province of Zambia where this ceremony is performed. I like the tradition."

note: The Makishu Ceremony is performed in the Western Province by the Losi tribe.




















David Mweene, age 17
lives in Kamwala, Lusaka
title: Mirror, 2008
























Bob Solache
tree and house scene, 2008
Kenyan and living at Fountain of Hope
note: Bob is hearing and speech impaired.



















Roy Chitwila, age 14
lives in Kamwala
title: Come and Drink, 2008


















John Mukoshachule, age 14
lives in Kamwala, Lusaka
title: Chopping Down Trees, 2008























On August 16th, the instructor returns, and I'm looking forward to finally meeting him after hearing about him and seeing the product of his teaching. With his approval, I'd like to develop an art history class to correspond with the Saturday lessons. I got the idea after sharing Andy Warhol: Prince of Pop by Jan Greenberg with Benson because he really loved it and wants to learn more about Basquiat. I asked the artists if they'd be interested and they were extremely enthusiastic about the idea. Let's hope I can pull something together that will be helpful. Lubuto is in need of a better art history collection, so I'm trying to get books from another library here to use. If only I packed another suitcase full of my heavy art books!

Mumbi: Library Employee

Mumbi
age: 12
grade: 6

me: Tell me something about yourself.

Mumbi: I live in Masauko in Lusaka. My grandmother wanted me to come to school here because she loves me and wanted me to get an education.

me: I heard you're the #1 student in your grade. How did you get perfect grades?

Mumbi: I concentrate in class, and I like learning very much. My favorite subject is English. I want to know how to speak English very well.

me: Uh, you DO speak English very well!

Mumbi: No, I don't.

me: How did you start working at the library?

Mumbi: They asked me to work in the library because I am number one, and they said they will pay my school fees. Here we only have grade 7, and then you have to pay.

me: Do you like working? What do you like about it?

Mumbi: Yes, I like it because this was the first library like this in Zambia. I like it very much.

me: What do you do when you're working?

Mumbi: I tell the boys and girls how to use the library. I help if someone does not know how to read. Some of them want to use the library but don't know how to read. Also, if they use a book, they can't put it back on the shelf. I tell them to put it in the basket.

me: You also help keep the statistics.

Mumbi: We want to know how many come to the library and where they come from, so I get them to sign in.

me: What is your favorite book?

Mumbi: Curious George because George wants to know everything. As for me, I want to be curious and do as he has done.

me: What do you think about working on my project?

Mumbi: I don't know, I just know that I help you! (laughs)