Travelling while African

It’s long been a dream of mine to be published in print and well, it finally happened. I have two articles in the July/August edition of Proflight Zambia’s in flight magazine, Nkwazi. The glossy mag is one of the best publications the country produces and it’s great to be in it. That my first print articles are in a top tier magazine only makes me more chuffed. Better still, I’ll now be a regular contributor so there’ll be more articles to come.

So here it is, the first article I submitted to Nkwazi, Travelling While African, where I reflect on my experience of living abroad with a focus on my time in Australia and Italy.

Travelling While African

It was a warm afternoon in the Eternal City, Rome, as I walked along, heading out to see some of the popular tourist sites. A man selling cheap Roman souvenirs, the kind made in China, stared at me and screamed. I was scared for a second and wondered what horrible crime I had committed. As I looked around, trying to figure out it if it really was me the man in the too-tight grey jeans was staring at he pointed at me shouted “Naomi Campbell!” Relieved, I burst out laughing and kept walking but not before a couple of people pulled out their camera phones to take a shot of me as I walked down my cobblestone catwalk. Somewhere out there are three Italian men who mistakenly think they’ve laid eyes on one of the world’s greatest (and most ill-tempered) supermodels. This little incident happened on the streets of Rome during my good old days as a university student. Travelling and living abroad as minority you may experience incidents of subtle or overt racism but there are other experiences that are more innocent and downright funny.

In other cases of mistaken identity I’ve been mistaken for an “African princess.” One Italian man approached me and presented an “Eat, Pray, Love” type arrangement in which we would meet over coffee and I would teach him English while he taught me Italian. This man thought I must be a princess exploring Italy on a trip funded by my royal fortune. I assured him I wasn’t a princess but I’m not sure he was convinced. Similarly, while on a boat ride off the coast of Queensland, Australia an elderly Brisbanite man who was well-travelled and by no means ignorant asked me if I had royal blood. He however did not let the matter go until I mentioned being distantly related to a member of a royal establishment back home. “You can tell these things,” he insisted, “even if the relationship is distant.” Though surely, if I were a poised white girl from England he would not assume I was related to princes William and Harry. Still I laughed and took some pleasure in the fact that anyone actually viewed me as regal.

In one incident that happened during my time in Brisbane I found myself both confused and flattered. Over lunch a friend told me one of the girls she lived with was talking about me. I braced myself for the worst only to be told, “My roommate told me she thinks my Indian friend is very pretty.” I didn’t know what to make of it. On the one hand she thinks I’m pretty, the flattering part. On the other hand, she inexplicably thinks I look Indian. Surprisingly, when I told one of my black Zambian friends living in Brisbane hat someone had mistaken me for an Indian female she said the exact same thing had happened with her.

One of the most baffling encounters for me happened on my third day in Brisbane. I’d just moved into my on-campus accommodation and was chatting with two girls I shared a floor with. When I said I was from Zambia the bewildering response I got from one of the girls was, “What part of Australia is Zambia in?” Too stunned to answer, my mouth opened but no words came out. The only thing I can conclude is she thought I’m an aboriginal Australian even though I scarcely look like one. Eventually I found my words and told her Zambia is a country in Africa. She was embarrassed but glad to have learned something new

The geographical confusion did not end there, a fellow university student in Brisbane revealed that he did not know South Africa is a country. When I mentioned a trip I had taken there several years ago this Canadian master’s student said, “Oh, so South Africa’s a country. When I watched Invictus I thought there was a south African team and a north African team.” Sensing how dumbfounded and amused I was the guy tried to turn the tables on me and asked me if I could name any Canadian provinces. He was lost for words when I mentioned 6 out 8 provinces in quick succession.

Back in Zambia I’m often asked if I experienced racism while abroad and the simple answer is no. Not the direct kind anyway though I’d say I experienced ‘racism of lowered expectations.’ That’s the kind that might make people say, “Oh wow, your English is so good. Did you learn to speak it here or back in Africa?” However, I found that most people who enquired about my background and life back in Zambia did so out of genuine curiosity and had no intention of offending me. For many people in Rome and Brisbane especially, I was the first black person and/or African they had the chance to interact with. People had a sincere desire to learn about the place I’d come from and to hear firsthand accounts rather than just news reports. And that’s the beauty of travel, for both the traveller and the local that encounters the traveller, it offers the opportunity to learn something new and enrich our lives. It’s a mixed bag at times. Some days you’ll be mistaken for a supermodel or princess and others you’ll roll your eyes so many times because once again someone made a comment about ‘Uncle Bob’ aka Robert Mugabe after you said you’re from Zambia. The sights, sounds and tastes we experience when we travel enrich our lives but the most enriching experience is part when we interact with the people that create them.

Zambian Namwali Serpell wins Caine Prize, shakes things up

She has it in the bag, or should I say in the sack. Namwali Serpell was yesterday awarded the Caine Prize for African Writing for her short story, The Sack. (Silly pun intended.) Namwali is the first Zambian to win the prize and in another first, she announced that she’ll share her prize money with the other four finalists: Masanade Ntshanga, FT Kola, Elnathan John and Segun Afolabi. 

The win is great for Namwali but also other Zambian writers. Zambia doesn’t exactly have the most vibrant of writing scenes (although things are looking up) so to see a compatriot nominated for a prestigious writing award is encouraging.  As every other Oscar winner seems to say, "it’s an honour just being nominated.” I first heard of Namwali when she was nominated for the Caine Prize (for her short story Muzungu) in 2010. I didn’t know who on earth she was but it was reassuring to hear of a notable Zambian writer, even if she was based in the US.

From left to right: Masanade Ntshanga, FT Kola, Elnathan John, Namwali Serpell and Segun Afolabi 

Image credit: CNN

As for Namwali’s decision to share her prize money, this is how she explained it:

 “It was an act of mutiny for me. I wanted to change the structure of the prize because I felt that for the writers its very awkward to be placed in this position of competition with other writers that you respect immensely in this American Idol or race horse situation when actually you want to support each other.”

There certainly is a competitive element to writing. If I gain an opportunity, I’m ‘taking it away’ from someone else. With seemingly few opportunities for writers in Zambia, it’s easy for us to become overly competitive or become so overwhelmed by the competitive aspect that we stop trying. The latter is more my experience. I believe that as much as we should fight for opportunities, it’s also important for writers to support each other. I have a few writer friends who can share in the frustrations of trying get a career off the ground. Some of these friends are talented but for a number of reasons will not even put there writing out there. Namwali’s win is not just for her; a lot of Zambian writers will be spurred on by her nomination and win and that’s a wonderful thing.

Anyone can learn from Namwali's act of mutiny though, not just writers. We're conditioned to compete from an early age. We're encouraged to be the best in class and on the sports field and that pressure continues throughout life. However, no matter how hard we try, there will always be someone smarter, better looking, with a better job and seemingly, an overall better life. Often we're better off sharing in our successes rather than obsessively competing to get to the top and stay there. 

Upon hearing that Namwali would share her prize money and her reason for sharing it, I recalled a Tedx Talk, titled Trust Your Struggle, by CNN International anchor Zain Asher. During the talk Zain tells her audience how she got her dream job, and it wasn't through ruthless competition. In fact, she even spoke of how she helped out a lady who was interviewing for the very same anchor job she was after. As she wraps up, Zain says:

"I don't believe in competing for what I want, I believe in creating what I want. In order to be successful I don't need to take anything away from anyone else…Having a competitive spirit, having that need for one-upmanship and comparing yourself to other people again and again can actually bring out fears and insecurities that end up holding you back."

Competition has its place and its advantages but we sometimes benefit from doing away with it. That a Zambia won Africa's most prestigious literary prize is great. That she chose to recognise her 'competitors' and share her prize money with them is even better.