SWAMPY TALES

"Ubufumu buucindika abeene," literally meaning, customary commoners, must honour their traditional leaders. So said our wise forefathers. Why is it important to do this? Because the traditional leaders are custodians of all that we are. They symbolize our culture; they mirror our tradition and are an insignia of what we call TRIBE (which means a group of persons having a common character, or interest.) They represent not only our history but are the emblem of our struggles, our triumphs, our evolution, our beliefs! And, most important, they hold in trust what belongs to us, our heritage, OUR LAND, AND ALL THAT IT HOLDS. As such, every tribesman must honour what we have.    Yes, we honour and respect our chiefs, headmen, and Guardians' of Nature. Therefore we should not allow anyone or anything to erode this esteem? Is it possible for the state and privatizers to undermine their authority while we look helplessly on? Can we do something? Why should we bother to do so? What...

Naturally, honest people hate thieves. As people created in God's image, like their creator, they abhor anyone with long fingers.  One of the shortest verses in the Cibemba Bible is Exodus 20:15 which is a single word, ‘ Wilaiba ,’ emphatically prohibiting stealing. However, some have always crossed this line and helped themselves with something that belonged to someone else. Men with such behavior are all over, including Lunga. Often, it is difficult to pin down the thief, especially the pretentious impostor who disguises himself as the holiest of the tribe. How do you trace or identify the thief from a crowd of innocents? Not so hard with the natives of Lunga. Lunga forebearers used three kinds of scarecrows, one for animals and two others for people.   The former being a mere dummy. Usually, mannequins were put by nets and weirs to scare away otters and other riverine predatory animals from feasting on fish, thereby preventing them from damaging the fisherman’s equipment....

Greetings to you all brethren living in blessed Lunga! If the legendary tale is true that Lucheleng'anga (presumed to be Jesus) stamped his footprint on a rock at the banks of Bangweulu in Kasoma Bangweulu's village, then somewhere in Lunga is Bethsaida (House of Fishing); and so, some of you are busy in our developing Magdala (Place where fish is processed.)  What a privilege to know that despite the devastating Covid-19 pandemic, we can still share thoughts about how we want to spend the remainder of our lives! It's indeed a privilege that in His wisdom, he created that part of the world, so different from others, and designed it so special for our inheritance. Some of you might have read my thoughts before about those who are happy to be called Apamwambas while they define us as grassroots, commoners, or simply common men. Oh yes, we might have grown up being told some people are supposed to be up there and look down upon you.  Sounds true on face value, doesn't it? ...

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...