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One of my dear sisters recently said, 'Home is not where you live, but where you belong.'

My Chafye Tour/Family

This post proved true as I experienced it when I visited Lunga, particularly Chafye Island, last April 2023. After a long time, I checked on my sister and her children. I travelled from my habitat in Ndola from 05:30hrs in the morning, arriving in Chafye at 19:30hrs. This trip was a combination of a journey by public bus and a voyage by public and private boats.

The swamps are as pristine as I saw them many years ago. However, the village has grown significantly. Many youths who had just heard about me were just as anxious to see me as I was. Everything fell in so naturally. I enjoyed the camaraderie I yearned for in the last fifteen years.

Indeed, I received a thunderous welcome on the eve of the Social Cash Transfer disbursement day! You guessed right what transpired the following day. Merrymaking!

Please note that I am not exaggerating by using the word, 'thunderous.' I witnessed the feeling of people who loved you for who you are and not what you can give them. They celebrate you just as much as you observe them. The mood and feeling are very different from the political welcome you see, which is but of hired crowds. I am talking about the real, natural bond of people of the same everything!

As soon as I settled down the following morning, the environment reminded me of many things that happened when I was a child. One person immediately attracted my attention. As a boy, relatives had neglected him to the extent that jiggars overran his feet, which made him walk like someone with a disability. He had messy hair, tattered and dirty clothes. However, today he is a clean and 'normal' gentleman. He reminded me of the kind of personal transformation a determined person goes through. When he came around to greet me, I was amazed at his sharp memory and sense of humour. This man is surely my hero.

A woman, now a grandmother to 11, whose mother was a very close friend to my sister, showed up with an interesting story. She is slightly older than I am. By 10:00hrs in the morning, she was drunk, just like some of the men I played with in our childhood, now on the government Social Cash Transfer payroll. I do not blame them because genuine circumstances have forced them.

"Kunda, you are here to see your sister?" My woman friend shouted while extending her hand for a handshake.

"Of course, yes," I said while adjusting my hand to free my palm from her vice-like clamping hand.

"Do you remember being my crush when we were children, but you could not read the signal?"

"I did not know about that. Was that so?" I said, moving away from her.

"You couldn't realize girls' manoeuvres because you were young and stupid."

"Okay. I am now sharp and alert." I said, laughing.

"Get out! I have finished my business with men. They are stupid."

   Her conversation was short-lived because many other people wanted to greet me.

You can imagine the fellowship during the three days I spent in Chafye.

Another longtime friend came. He did not look very well. That prompted me to ask what was wrong with him. He explained that he had been sick for some time now. He told me he had endured ongoing chest pains. I asked him what the hospital diagnosis was.

"My illness is traditional, my friend. The hospital cannot treat it."

"Really?" That is too bad." I said, avoiding being inquisitive in private matters.

After my friend had left, my sister explained what the man meant by his illness being traditional.

"It is Nshima." My sister said. His wife had affairs with other men she is yet to discuss. As a result, he is suffering from Nshima.

"I see. So that belief is still as strong as ever?" I asked.

"You think it will ever go away? As long as unfaithful women exist, men will live with it forever."

"Look, sister; some men have turned this belief commercial. If the intention is to summon those who stole their oranges and charge them mercilessly, some couples will always use it to earn whatever they want from culprits."

"That is very true. One woman has implicated more than ten men. They have charged them all thousands of kwacha. The husband has bought movable assets. And there is no talk about divorce." My sister said.

I heard many stories of men falling victim to the Nshima misfortune.

 For the uninitiated, my brother-in-law explained something that made this belief not appear too primitive after all.

 "It comes from a long-standing tradition that kept couples faithful to one another. On the couple's wedding day, they made a fire, held a clay pot together (akalongo) and put it on the fire together. The woman would then cook a small Nshima. When the nshima was ready, the couple would take the pot off the fire together. That symbolized a vow that they were one, and should any of them go and have sex outside of marriage, the innocent would fall sick. If the man disrespected the vow while the woman was pregnant, the woman might die of Incila. If the woman misbehaved and returned home to cook for her husband after an unholy adventure, the man would die of Nshima. Unless both disclosed the names of those, they had sex with publicly. The disclosure should always be public so others can learn and avoid mischief."

Wow! My visit was worthwhile—so many things to learn plus many platefuls of Mpende. I am sure that you people in Lunga can now read this post after the government blessed you with the best internet service in the country. It is a new dawn in Lunga. God bless you all! Keep the fire burning!