From Northern Rhodesia to Zambia-A Childs Eye-View: Heres another secret Ive discovered, parents are Greek gods incarnate but their children are mere humans suffering or rejoicing at the whims of these gods,...these fates. Just think of it, they insist they know you better than you know yourself, they in fact think they know best (!), they threaten to do supernatural things such as having the ability to give you a bright future, they are above the law allowing them to punish you without right of redress, and they marry and fight. That they are gods does not make children godlettes, no such word exists-they made sure of that in the eternal past-children are human, slaves to these creative forces. Parents are gods and goddesses and this makes them think every decision they make is good for the slavish children. Perhaps it was in such god-like passion that father consigned us to the hades that was Matero, he knew best and we would have to just shape up and love it. Matero then was a little different from todays regular compound, It was a melting pot of cultures, tribes, nationalities, and of ideas. Matero qualified to be called a melting pot. It confined you to one location and kept you in through walls of poverty, it had white hot passions, hot tempers, hot girls and boys and even hotter small houses. Speaking of houses, the new government had constructed a different sort of house that was bigger and electrified-perhaps as part of the integrated housing policy meant to create a classless society. This had the opposite effect as those living in the darkened ones only felt worse for living right next to a much better electrified home. I said Matero was a melting pot of nationalities. Mainly you had Zambians, Southern Rhodesians, Malawians, South Africans and some Congolese (the men were mostly in the music and watch-fixing business, the women came along but for other reasons). The Rhodesians were mostly into Peugeot cars; they had taxis which were either gained legitimately or through legally incorrect ways...it was the age of the Mazezuru. These Rhodesian people were mostly non-political migrants who were several generations Zambian but kept their culture and ways alive. The South Africans were more private, even a little aloof, and most were political refugees, a few were migrant workers who had settled in Zambia long before independence. The Malawians were terrified of Kamuzu Banda and many tried to pass for pure Zambian, Kamuzus spies and abductors were everywhere, one could not be too careful. The Congolese were nocturnal, only coming out at night to entertain with their skillful singing and guitar work. They rarely carried out their watch repair business in Matero itself, preferring to do so in the city centre. The overwhelming majority of foreign people were Rhodesians, we had two neighbours from Rhodesia and Matero itself shared a border with Mandevu and Marrapodi. These two other compounds were more or less an extension of Southern Rhodesia for the great numbers of its citizens resident there. There were increasing numbers of guerrilla fighters from both RSA and Rhodesia, but they were very good at concealing their true nature to the Zambians. The character of Matero was very heavily influenced by the Southerners, right down to the accent and even words that formed the Nyanja we spoke in this township. The place was also violent, much in the same manner as was associated with South African or Rhodesian townships; the weapon of choice was the knife and many fell at its point. The Six-gear Okapi knife was the AK47 of all knives. It was so known for the six cerrations it had on a gear that locked it into the open position. The six gear was a feared weapon, the rapid tak!tak!tak!tak!tak!tak! sound was its calling card and for many the last sound they heard this side of existence. Dad must have realised the disaster he had brought upon us as soon as we moved, but the man was stubborn and would not immediately retreat. For this particular son, his answer was to allow me get one free three gear blade from every order of Okapi knives he made. Ok, so the assailant had three more death-clicks than I had, and on a larger knife...thank you very much father. Try as I would, he would never allow me to own that mother-of-all-knives, the six gear Okapi. Dark streets and knives are always a bad combination, throw in three young children and a drunk gang and you have a news item in the making. One such night we almost made news....
Posted on: Mon, 15 Sep 2014 22:54:02 +0000
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