Expats

Saturday afternoon, 1:45 p.m., Dave’s house, Lusaka

One of the preconceptions I have held of Africa is that of the “Expat,” those folks (muzungu – white man – as well as Indians, Chinese and others) who come here to live and work among the people of this continent, in a variety of capacities – missionaries, Peace Corps volunteers, relief workers, bankers, manufacturing managers. My visions of the expat life have been shaped, as all my visions are, by the media – in my case, movies such as Out of Africa, Blood Diamond, or even Empire of the Sun, which depicts British life in China at the cusp of World War II.

Zambia was a British colony, where the official language is still English, and so the staccato calls of “How are you” from children as young as 3 rang out on our ride this morning. This was definitely a muzungu ride – although we started this morning with a group of young, promising Zambian racers, by the end it was five of us: Rick, me, a Swedish PhD student in public health, the American head of a bank, and a South African banker who also sponsors a local development squad. This was my experience of Zambia today, heading out on the Great Northern Road, 50km to a roadside stop where we turned and rode 50km back, complete with a follow car. We finished, as all good group rides do, with time spent around the coffee shop table, and later a dip in the icy pool at the banker’s house. Talk about surreal!

Apparently, cycle racing was a big deal here in Zambia in the 1970s, pretty much until the copper mines began their steep decline and the economy began to disintegrate. Now, there is a committed group of expats trying to revive it, as a way to encourage the youth – some of their best racers are 14 and 15 years old. Which sounds so amazing, until you remember that half the population is under 16.

In some ways, this encouragement is very good, in that it gives the next generation an outlet, and something to think about in their future. That seems to be a difficult recurring theme here – the future – as so many Zambians do not live their lives “deliberately,” or with planning. And in a world in which death comes every day, can you blame them?

So it was sort of strange to be rolling along the road, being called to by the young children, trying to reconcile the fact that here I was on a group ride, and those children were calling to me from huts, literally. Or as we entered the city, we passed by an area populated mainly by Zimbabwean refugees, where small children were playing in the drainage ditch, which I’m sure was not just street runoff. It is said that Zambia is a good introduction to Africa, because it is not quite as harsh as other countries – but when you see the strife in the compounds, it is hard to ignore the tragedies these people face each day.

So today has still been “Africa Light,” which in a way is good as I prep for some pretty big emotional hits in the next couple of days. At the same time, though, there are reminders everywhere of why so many muzungu are here, trying to help. The best we can do is create solutions that empower Zambians to help themselves, and give them that glimpse of a future.

Race tomorrow, 150km starting with about 30km of descent, and then a long battle uphill on the way back, as Lusaka is on a plateau – it’s going to be a tough one!