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.

Zed Hair guest post - I featured

I'm happy (and kinda proud) to say an article of mine has been featured on Zed Hair. The sight is hugely and is Zambia's number one natural hair blog. I wrote the article with Zed Hair in mind and I'm so happy it was accepted. In the article I reflect on my first year of having locks (dreads) and all that I've gone through in that time. My locks are really more than just a hairstyle. To understand what I mean, read on.

The other woman is not to blame

“Whatever you’re trying to do...Don’t forget that God sees,” the message began. I didn’t read the rest for several days but I knew instinctively what this was about. It was a message from a lady who was uncomfortable with me, a single woman, being friends with her husband. I had previously sensed that she disliked me and she had struck me as the jealous type but I decided to let it go and give her the benefit of the doubt.

The message upset me more than it shocked me. For a start, despite what she may have thought, I wasn’t trying to steal away her man or anything of the sort. I thought she had a lot of nerve looking me up on Facebook and sending a message to falsely accuse me of something she had no evidence for.

However what was more upsetting than the false accusation was that she chose to attack “the other woman” rather than talk to her husband. I was an easy target. Rather than work up the courage to have a difficult talk with her husband about their relationship she confronted me from behind a computer screen.

But let’s imagine I was planning something sinister or that I had actually had an affair with this man. I still think it’s better for the scorned woman to take the high road. It does one no good to confront the other woman. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s wrong to have an affair with a married man but I also think the man has a greater obligation to his wife than his mistress does. The husband after all took vows and made a promise to be faithful. And no woman really steals a man from his wife or girlfriend. The man makes a conscious decision to have an affair and he should be held accountable for his actions. It is unfair to put all or most of the blame on the other woman.

Unfortunately though, rationality often goes out the window when a woman thinks someone is going after her man. In my case, I believe it would not only have been wrong for me to pursue the man in question but quite frankly, impractical. The man I was supposedly trying to get my claws into is a foreign national who lives on another continent. When we met he was in Lusaka only because of a short-term work engagement. His wife, who was born and raised in Zambia, was in the country on holiday. Maybe she thought I would try have an intercontinental affair and either eventually lure him back to Lusaka for good or something else equally as dumb and complicated. Had my accuser been secure in her relationship she probably wouldn’t have messaged me. But she chose to burden me with her insecurities and bring me into a situation that ultimately had nothing to do with me.

Once my anger began to subside it began to make way for amusement. And as I laughed it off I remembered the one other time I was accused of trying to steal someone else’s husband. This man was relentlessly pursuing me but I had absolutely no interest in him. Late one night as I was about to go to bed I got a message from his “wife” telling me to stay away from her man. She asked how I could dare go after a married man who also had a child. I knew nothing of this woman, nor the child and I tried to explain that I wasn’t interested in her husband but she would not listen to reason. It turned out however that this woman had a child with the man but was not and had never been married to him. It was unclear whether they had ever dated. What was clear is she worried that I was a gold digger and that me being involved with her “baby daddy” would mean she’d receive less financial support than usual. But unfortunately she chose harassing me over talking to the father of her child.

I should add that I have actually been in a relationship that ended because the guy left me for someone else. I knew exactly who she was, we had mutual friends and I saw her on a regular basis. However, I said nothing to her even though I could have confronted her. She does bear some responsibility for the end of the relationship but ultimately it’s the guy that chose to leave me and I’d have gained nothing from attacking her. I just wish more women would see it this way. Talk to your significant other or leave him, it’s your choice. But ladies, let’s not attack each other over decisions our partners make.    

Husband wanted; black men need not apply

The front page of a recent edition of The Post, Zambia’s top selling daily newspaper, lead with headline, “I’m a virgin and my dream is to marry a white man.” Next to those words was a picture of Juliet Buumba, 21, who ran an advert in the paper in which stated she was looking for a man to marry, a white man to be precise. A silly but harmless thing to do I thought. She knows what she wants and she’s going after it, I told myself as I tried to rationalise her words.

The problem is her reasons for wanting a white man are based on a lie and Juliet’s ignorance. As she puts it, “White men are not violent. They do not abuse their wives and that is why I want a white man to marry me.” I’ll give Juliet credit for one thing; gender based violence (GBV) is a huge problem in Zambia and that’s putting it lightly. The same paper that carried Juliet’s story also featured an article stating that 8,699 cases of GBV had been reported in the country from January to June. We can safely assume that this is only a fraction of the cases and there are likely many more unreported cases as most women don’t report cases of abuse.

Perhaps Juliet has watched one too many American sitcoms featuring loving white families and near perfect white husbands and boyfriends. Or maybe she’s let herself believe that because incidents of GBV are high, all black Zambian men are bad people. Either way, she’s rather naïve for a 21-year-old. The story did generate a lot buzz (which is obviously what the Post was after) and Juliet has been condemned by many but she likely has some secret supporters especially among other black women who fantasise about partnering up with a white man.

Juliet Buumba

postzambia.com

While I’ve never dated much (Facebook needs an option for perpetually single), the times I have it’s been more out of my race than in it. As someone who’s dated more out of her race than in it I’ve received both admiration and criticism, although this criticism is often laced with some form of envy. Many a wide-eyed black girl has asked me what it’s like to date a white guy. “It must be nice one girl” once said, answering her own question. One friend initially told me that unlike me she could never date a white man but then weeks later admitted that she really badly wanted to date one. She was just embarrassed to admit it earlier. Another friend who has a policy of dating only white men “settled” for a mixed race man earlier this year. While he treated her rather well it was clear she would’ve been happy if he was fully white and not just half white.

I must honestly say I’ve generally felt that white guys have treated me better than non-whites but unlike Juliet I’ve not fooled myself into thinking that all white guys are better than all black guys. As one friend put it, “They’re not all Mr Darcy.” I do find myself making negative generalisations about Zambian men often. Today for instance while passing through two different bus stops on the way two work I got harassed by some men who thought it appropriate to make creepy comments about my appearance. I had close to a dozen men “undress me” with their eyes all before 8am. They seemed to think they were complimenting me but I simply felt violated. Some of these men get annoyed when I ignore them as if they deserve my attention after they whistle at me like an animal and rudely shout at me to come over to them. A significant proportion of Zambian men certainly need an attitude adjustment when it comes to the way they view women. I could write a whole other post on this and I have to stop myself going off on a rant right now.

At the time the Post article went to print Buumba had apparently received 50 responses, only 2 from white men. I can only assume the men must have a fetish for black women or perhaps have had a rather unsuccessful dating life. Because why else would they be willing to date a deluded woman who was mostly interested in them for the colour of their skin. And the 48 non-white men? I don’t even know what to think of them. Maybe they think they can “convert” Juliet and redeem black men.

If Juliet ends up with William, the respondent to her ad that she’s most interested in, I’d say the two deserve each other. In the same way that Kim and Kanye deserve each other, they’re both deluded people. But hey, I’ve spent too much time writing about a woman who I’m not sure deserves any attention at all.