Written on May 26th:
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| The bridge that links Zimbabwe’s Victoria Falls to Zambia’s Livingstone |
It’s been almost three weeks since I stepped foot into Zambia, and I can’t help but look at the country with the eye of one who has lived in Zimbabwe. The countries are side-by-side, sharing borders at Victoria Falls, Lake Kariba, and Chirundu, so there is bound to be cultural crossover as well as geographic. I mean, they both begin with the letter “Z” – the only two countries in the world to start with this letter. So, how similar are “Zim” and “Zam”?
By all appearances, Zambia looks very similar to Zimbabwe. Its topography is dominated by that typical African scruff, interspersed with occasional dramatic hills. Its number one tourist attraction is Victoria Falls. Its waterfront is overrun with elephants and hippos. Its borders are chaotic, its towns unruly. Its people have similar facial features and skin color, and their clothes are the typical mix of colorfully uncoordinated African fabrics draped upon bodies with Western t-shirts, jeans, and caps (albeit often more worn that we would wear in the West).
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| Zambia’s Chirundu, on the edge of the Zambezi River, with Zimbabwe in the background |
Even Zambian traditional food is the same as in Zimbabwe. Its staple of pounded maize might be called “nshima” instead of “sadza”, but it’s still served with tomato and onion relish, cooked rape (African spinach), pumpkin leaves, beans, and for those meat-inclined, “village chicken” (meaning very chewy chicken due to strong muscles from wandering free). Take a piece of the maize-meal with your right hand, finger it into a ball, and dip it in the side dish of your choice. I could have been on the farm in Zimbabwe.
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| me eating Zambian “nshima” |
But delve a little deeper and the differences begin to emerge. Livingstone, for one, is much bigger and busier than Zimbabwe’s equivalent town of Victoria Falls. It’s evident that Livingstone has been taking advantage of the political problems in Zimbabwe – here, tourists have access to five-star hotels, gourmet dining, African markets, no less than a dozen banks, a Western shopping center, and plenty of activity and tour packages to choose from.
If you look carefully as you drive from Livingstone to Chirundu, or Chirundu to Lusaka, you can tell you’re not in Zimbabwe. The villages and towns, though run-down in a typical African sort of way, are bustling in a way you rarely see in Zimbabwe. I mean, there is stuff.for.sale. Food on the shelves, goods in the shops. Businesses are open, running. Hardware, clothing, cheap Chinese goods. People are lively on those streets, perhaps happy or relieved that there is, indeed, something to buy with their hard-earned cash. Lusaka, Zambia’s capital, has newish skyscrapers and land being developed into modern shopping centers. Zimbabwe’s buildings all scream 60s architecture, and nothing new has been built there in a decade (except for the Army Barracks built by the Chinese). Compared to the stir of these Zambia, Zimbabwe feels like one big, derelict ghost town.
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| the maize meal and cooked greens that come with every Nshima meal |
Maybe we can trace all this economic success back to recent political history. I mean, Zambia did get its independence more than 15 years earlier than Zimbabwe, and they didn’t have to go through quite the Chimurenga (“War of Liberation”) to get there. Yes, there has been political turmoil. There has been corruption, accusations of rigging elections, leaders changing the constitution in hopes of clinging to power just a bit longer. Typical African stories. But there is relative stability here, and positive international attention. There has been worldwide aid. And, there are minerals here. They don’t call the north “the Copperbelt” for nothing.
Whatever the reason, Zambia is what Zimbabwe should be, or would be, if Mugabe weren’t in the picture. As someone who spent so much time in Zimbabwe, getting to know Zimbabweans and liking it more and more every day, seeing what it should or could or would be was a bit painful, a bit sad. It made me feel badly for my friends on the farm, whose livelihoods can disappear in an instant if political heavyweights turn their way. For those I watched struggle every day to put food on the table, to clothe themselves and furnish their homes with meager pickings at inflated prices, and to believe in a positive future for their country. Zambia wasn’t heaven, sure, but for a Zimbabwean, it just might be.
