SWAMPY TALES

Our grass-thatched, mud, four-cornered hut stood between two old mango trees near the village' s family Kabuli (graveyard), at the very end of Mukanga village. When the burial ground overgrew, chilling bouts of fear rushed through me when passing by it as I grew up believing ghosts do harm; especially if you whistled in the night within the vicinity of the cemetery. The only time I felt relieved in the night was when the tall grass around the burial place was burnt. I couldn't figure out why we lived so close to ghosts if they were that harmful. Why would dead relatives become that hostile as to hurt living members of their own family for such petty acts as tooting? Beyond our hut was a vast plain leading to the next village named Mutoni, aka Maishike, which was neighbouring another small village called Chikonde. In the east was Iyamba, the capital of Ncheta Island of Chief Bwalya Mponda. We had many neighbours in front of us, some in small round huts fenced with "Iceec...

Dear Aspiring Luapula Constituency MP, 'Umwana bamufunda pa kuya. Pa kubwela alakana' Our forefathers coined the adage: “Insala ni ndiminwa, te mpulilwa iyoo.”   This was to encourage us to go out and till the land so we did not become beggars. If our own household had no food for longer than two days, and you were forced to ask for help from relatives or friends, the head of that household took the blame and apologized as a responsible provider for the family.   (Remember those days when our fishermen were allowed to freely excel at their trade?) Yes, we even had floods at times! Those who failed to consistently feed their own families had derogatory nicknames such as Impumfi, abapushi , etc. So, in terms of development, you will be that head of our communal household of Lunga. I am convinced you realize this and is the reason you want to run for that office. I know that things are different today. The game has completely changed. Incessant floods, partly due to block...

WHAT A DARK-BLACK SEASON FOR LUNGA!   Tuesday October 1, 2019. I woke up to a myriad of missed calls. One by one, I called back. All of them tried to deliver a single solemn message: “Uncle Chisala is no more!” A single, sixty-something old, handsome and controversial man who had been sick for a while had died. I last visited him several months earlier. I was filled with shame and that disturbing sense of guilt. Maybe, I should have done more for him. But my hands were already full with other pressing responsibilities. Many issues needed my urgent attention. I had just returned home from nursing an equally very sick sister.   I had to camp in Mansa to keep checking on her in Samfya while trying to keep my small business afloat. Sustaining my boys’ stay in boarding, rent and other bills were all calling. That was the start of one disastrous rainy season of 2019/2020.   Just as I arrived in Kitwe to mourn uncle, another persistent phone call from the village kep...

It is termed Nkutu in the Bisa language.   The seasonal, temporal farming camp, where families trekked in search of fertile land for cassava cultivation.   This was necessitated by the overuse of land around villages, leaving it barren for any meaningful farming. Almost every capable person would go and encamp ku Nkutu, in distant places, leaving their villages almost vacant, for not less than three months.   Depending on where you secured fertile land, there would be a sizable number of families in Nkutu . The farming season was normally between November and March. We cultivated reasonably vast fields where we grew cassava and sweet potatoes before returning home.   Life here was a bit alien, especially when it came to the availability of my favourite fish.   We often fed on two main kinds of vegetables, katapa – cassava leaves or kalembula- sweet potato leaves. For many men from our village who were customary fishermen, living in such condit...

To tell their stories, individual biographies would be ideal. They made important contributions to the village economy. But, due to time and   the fact that no one can give adequate and in-depth details about their diverse social and other aspects of their well-lived lives today,   a mere glimpse in their role   as observed in my childhood might remind   compatriots of where we are coming from;   and jerk our dormant conscious   of how much we have neglected   our tourism package which is still covered in dust in the   archives. It will also serve to remind all the born-frees that there was life before us, which was enjoyed just as much. Hunter. Blacksmith. Carver. Tanner. Potter. Brewer. Weaver.   And other artists . Armateur Knives & Cooking Sticks from an urban market- Pic by Vincent Mwanda These are some of the unsung contemporary ‘industrialists’ and artists who contributed immensely to the village economy a...

                      Ministry of Education-Curriculum Development Center (CDC) Approved. CHAPTER 3 FIISA MU NSHIKU “Pilikiti, tanasha fikali. Kano male male.” Bushe mumfwa shani nga ifyo mulefawaisha ukucitika fyakokola? Bushe mulasuswa no kutendeka ukucita ifingalenga mwakana ukupokelela icalailwe? Umfweni ifyacitike mu Mfumu Chipangano. Kale, ubwina nama nabo bwaleteekwa nga abantu. Mu mushi mwa Kanabesa ba Chipangano mwali imitundu ya nama mpanga iyapusanapusana. Inama shonse shalepyunga imilimo yalekanalekana umo shalesangila utwakulya. Shimbi shalebombelela ukulingana nefyo imilimo yaliko yalefwaya ababomfi no bwishibilo baakwete. Kwali ne fibusa Kolyokolyo na Lufwinyemba, abalebombela pamo no kwakanya utobabombela.  Kolyokolyo no munankwe Lufwinyemba baileipusha incito ku Mfumu. Balefwaya bakabombeleko kwisano. Imfumu yakwete amabala ayengi, kanshi ne milimo yalesangwa ku balefwaya. Pa mbali ya mulaasa, imfumu ...