Zambians are now becoming well traveled and if you ever went to a faraway place like Hong Kong for example, chances are you will bump into a Zambian if you looked hard enough.
I did not want to be one of the less traveled Zambians and decided to travel to Bangkok with an acquaintance of mine – Big Jo. We were first to spend some days in Johannesburg at a place called Hilbrow. My well traveled friend Big Jo, told me they had cheap accommodation and would be the best place to stay, you see we had limited funds. Big Jo’s neighbor’s cousin was doing some business in Bangkok and we were going to help him sell some of the “stuff†in Johannesburg and Zambia. I knew northwestern province like the back of my hand and I was going to make millions of kwacha selling the “stuff†there. Well that’s what Big Jo said. I did ask him what we would be selling and he said clothes, sofas, spare parts etc.
I later got to learn that Big Jo had conveniently left out some vital information about Hilbrow, like it was a dangerous place to be! But how was an innocent boy from Kasempa supposed to know such details.
So we traveled in a dirty “luxury coach from Lusaka to Johannesburg. When we arrived I had never seen such a big bus station in my life! It was called Park station. I thought when become rich I’ll build one like this in Solwezi.We then took a mini bus to Hilbrow. As we drove another mini bus driver waved a gun at us. It was then my legs began shaking. Despite that, we arrived safely in Hilbrow, but just in time to hear more gun shots.
“Big Jo lets go back,†I cried. He, like all the other people around was calm. I was later to learn this was a way of life here. We had barely disembarked from the bus when a group of men approached us.
“Butuka!†Big Jo shouted. But before my wobbly legs could move, all my possessions were taken from me. I shook like a leaf, at least I was unharmed I thought. A few moments later Big Jo resurfaced. My passport, the driver’s license I had bought in Lusaka and all my money were stolen. At least Big Jo had kept the air ticket to Bangkok.
We were about to go to the police station when a Zimbabwean man approached us.
“I saw what happened,†he said “but if you go to the police they will think you are an illegal immigrant.â€
Big Jo suggested we try the Zambian embassy. He said they would take care of me. As for him he had to proceed to Bangkok .The next day Big Jo left me at the Zambian embassy. I walked in and was looked at suspiciously by the beautiful lady at reception. I explained what happened and she said I needed a police report to verify what I was saying. I told her I had no transport money, no passport and no clothes. If they could just organize a passport and drivers license for me I could join Big Jo in Bangkok. She laughed at me so hard you would have thought she was watching one of the late “maximo’s†comedies. At this point I had had enough. I broke down in my mother tongue. This attracted two gentlemen from the next office. The lady told them I wanted a passport and drivers license from them. They too laughed at me. This again attracted an elderly gentleman, whom I’ll never forget. At least he showed more compassion for me.
To cut a long story short I never made it to Bangkok. I am back in Kasempa.I don’t have a passport. I tried to buy a drivers license from Mr. Mwape but I’m told things are now computerized so its difficult. As old as I am, I have to take a driving test. I’m told I have to reverse through drums on a hill!
So, I never want to travel outside Zambia again. I do not know what the function of a Zambian embassy is, if you can’t even obtain necessary documents from them when you are abroad. As for Big Jo I never heard from him. Never trust someone with the name Big Jo I guess!