Alone I sit tonight, no power and little for company but Strumble, Mumbles and Derrick the forlorn Zambian. Unfortunately they are all made of wood and we sit here together in the poorly illuminated room that is home. Strumble is a beautiful oak rocking horse who has travelled the world with us and all the children have grown up with and ridden until they had their own horses. Mumbles is a grey back seagull who had lost his beak at birth, so we bought him cheap in Chichester. Luckily for Mumbles, we had a very good friend who made lutes for a living and who had the empathy with wood that only a man who made perfect 14th century musical instruments would have. (I bet he had never been asked to make a seagull’s beak before.) Derrick on the other hand is a new edition. I bought from a local craftsman in Lusaka and who has an expression that epitomises the issues in modern Africa.
Anyway the four of us are sat in the “living room” with nothing for light but an oil lamp burning citronella oil in the vain hope that it will keep the mosquitoes at bay. (It doesn’t, but it smells marginally better than paraffin.) The power went off again at 19:00 again as it has done every night I have been home since Saturday. It seems it is some sort of power shedding as they call it, Though it only seems to affect the capital and surrounding areas.
Power is a funny thing. We spent six months in Zimbabwe with about four hours power a week (and that was in the middle of the night) but we managed. Everything from the morning cup of tea to all the meals were cooked on the open fire, yes we moaned, especially in the rainy season but it was somehow special. About eight weeks after being booted from Zim, I will never forget Sharon saying as she got frustrated with the small electric cooker.” I miss cooking on an open fire” That is something I never thought that I would here her say. The thing is this was hardship for us but its everyday life for the majority of Africans.
And I think that is it. Being out here you prepare for and are able to put up with the idiosyncrasies of Africa and all that it throws at you. In England, life is very comfortable and everything works and you become complacent.
If it snowed in Africa tomorrow for a month I can almost guarantee that the place would not grind to a halt. People would still go to work. They would build snow ploughs, drink even colder beer and sell the stuff to the Congolese and make a plan. Yes they would moan a bit but they would get on with it.
So why isn’t Africa a superpower? It has the most fantastic resources.
Because when it comes to doing anything more than putting the next meal on the table, the wheels fall off. And please don’t get me wrong I am not a racist. My friends and I have discussed this at great length (and yes I am talking about my local friends here.) and they will admit the same. They will plant enough maize for this year to feed their families. Not a bit extra in case it is a bad year or if it is a good year for them to sell on. They live for today, because that is here. Tomorrow is another day, and we will sort that out, when and if, it comes.
I am not saying that everyone in Africa thinks this way but the majority of people do.
On the up side they have something that is fast disappearing in the West and that is to consider those around you. Family, family values. Due to circumstances that have conspired to be prevalent here. A family is no longer you your wife and your children, but a family unit can cover three generations, cousins second cousins and beyond. And within that group there may only be one bread winner. Nine times out of ten, through that sort of adversity they make a plan and gear up. Though unfortunately only until the next harvest.
I think where I am coming from here is that we have a tremendous amount to offer Africa and there is even more than we can take away. And I don’t mean oil, diamonds and wood. But giving business, economic conservational and agricultural acumen. And learning the true values of what we are and how our decisions and actions affect others around us.
We have to get out of our self centred ruts and help others see the bigger picture too. You will be surprised just how much you learn. Mostly about ourselves.
So, me sitting here moaning in the dark while my friend moves his family 700 km on the back of an open lorry down treacherous roads in the rainy season sort of pales into insignificance in the bigger picture.
Denzil Bark (On his soap box)
I hope this was not too depressing. (remind me not to write when I am pissed and lonely)
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