Times of Zambia Posted September 13, 2013 by Chanda Davies in The Special Features An Embarassing Nc’wala Aftermath IT HAPPENED TO ME WE are told to eat in order to live and not otherwise, but our CORRESPONDENT, who appeared to forget there were other purposes for living, even temporarily, overate at a traditional ceremony and paid the price in mid-air when his bowels opened up on an aircraft with no toilet! Find out how it all happened… _____________________________________________________________________ THE knack with which Chief Inspector Simbotwe mispronounced names and places alike always left me bewildered. For instance, on this particular afternoon, Inspector Simbotwe had just finished giving the four of us a detailed brief of our assignment at the forthcoming N’cwala ceremony of the Ngoni people of Eastern Province. I was part of a detail of six paramilitary officers assigned to provide security to a very important person (VIP) who was travelling to the ceremony as one of the ceremony’s special guests. Our task was to provide escort services to and from the ceremony as well as befitting physical security during the event. In winding up his brief, the inspector said: “For transport, you will use the new Nathan – the Nathan Hard body!” A contrived misnomer for a Nissan Hard body van. Naturally, this sparked a burst of unguarded laughter in the room following the mispronunciation, but the inspector didn’t seem to care at all about the mischievous mirth and promptly sauntered out of the briefing room to his office “to attend to other national duties”. Since the ceremony was on a Saturday, our motorcade left Lusaka on Friday morning and safely arrived in Chipata mid-afternoon without any incidence. This being my first trip to Chipata, I thoroughly enjoyed the trip and the awesome picturesque nature of Eastern Zambia in general and Chipata town in particular. One place of interest I asked my colleagues to not fail to show me before we reached there, were the famous Manenekela hills. It was breathtaking to gaze into the depths where many a motor vehicle and a life had perished without recovery. Legend had it that lions roamed the depths and would maul survivors from motor vehicles that dropped into the valley. Our team was up and about early on Saturday morning in readiness for the glorious ceremony. Once we had ushered our VIP among other dignitaries, we were able to enjoy relative freedom to sample and enjoy the ceremony. I must confess that one aspect of the ceremony that I enjoyed and sampled to the utmost was the food. And that, precisely, is the reason for my writing. Hailing from a part of the country that does not have much to show in terms of traditional ceremonies, I was overawed by the magnitude and sumptuousness of the N’cwala ceremony. Our hostesses encouraged our group to feel free to sample as much food and drink as we possibly could. I was particularly enticed to sample much more when it was discovered that I was a traditional cousin of the Ngonis! And being one not prone to shying away from challenges, especially the cuisine type from my traditional cousins, I delved into every dish and drink, traditional and modern, I could lay my hands on. I occasionally asked for some food items to be wrapped for me to take away. My reckoning was that such food would become handy on our return trip on Sunday and would help save on our allowances for that rainy day. The return trip by road was, however, not to be! Just after the climax of the ceremony, word filtered to us that our VIP was required to be in Lusaka that evening and that a helicopter was on its way to fetch him and obviously, the security detail, too. I thanked my stars that my longstanding longing to travel by air had come at a most wonderful, though unexpected time. I felt quite sorry for the driver of our vehicle who was going to drive back to Lusaka all by himself. Before long, the military helicopter had landed at Mtenguleni and our VIP made his farewells. We walked the short distance to where the chopper was parked and behold, we were aboard the chopper. I could not contain my excitement as I quickly took in the neat interior of the aircraft and proudly noticed how young and smart the pilots were. Soon the doors were closed and we were reminded to fasten our seatbelts. The engines were fired and, presently, the chopper left the ground with a jerk. I felt a wonderful sensation as we continued to rise and as the people and structures below us became smaller and smaller. I couldn’t help but imagine for a while that I was the pilot. This good feeling was not for long! Ten minutes into the flight, I felt the first signs of trouble – stomach trouble. The twinge of stomach pain was sudden, but subsided almost as suddenly as it’d come. I thought to myself that perhaps the pain was as a result of the steep rise of the chopper and also to several air pockets along the way. I made a mental note that if ever I became a pilot, I’d be taking gradual take-offs instead of steep ones so as not to inconvenience my passengers. The second spasm drew me out of wonderland into the present. These particular cramps lingered a little while longer. When the third round of cramps came, it was sure confirmation that trouble was indeed looming. By now I’d began to have that characteristic sweat that comes along with severe stomach pains resulting from too much food intake. I began to inwardly invoke the power of God to intervene in my predicament. When the fourth spasm came, it quite literally took away my senses with it. “Nanga ku lavatory nikuti?” I enquired from no one in particular. Realising that there was no lavatory facility in the chopper (I’m sure modern versions of helicopters have the facilities), made my desperation even worse. “Hey!” I shouted to one of my colleagues, “Bauze ba driver baimilileko pa Katete nifuna kusebenzesako lavatory” (tell the pilot to stop over at Katete. I would like to use the lavatory!) A moment later I was informed that our flight was a VIP flight and was not allowed to make any unauthorised stop-overs for security reasons. I was further informed that our first and final destination was Lusaka. As for Katete, I was curtly made to understand, it was not on our bearing for that particular trip. I shut my eyes to try and close my mind from the rumbling noises and pain emanating from my rioting stomach. To no avail! By now my muscles were tout and fists clenched like a man ready for a physical confrontation. Then the fifth spasm came. As I was contending with the spasm, the aircraft suddenly hit a sizable air pocket and dipped suddenly. The resultant fear triggered by the sudden dipping of the chopper meant a momentary lapse of concentration on my lower sphincters which to my utter disgrace opened – in the chopper, in mid air! I can’t describe to the fullest extent the atmosphere that prevailed from the eruption of the volcano henceforth. At that point, I decided that the safest way was to faint. Yes, induced fainting. On arrival at the airport in Lusaka, I noticed that the aircraft parked right next to a fire tender. After everyone else had made their hasty exit, no doubt triggered by the hostile inner environment, I was finally ordered to alight. As soon as I was outside, I was met with a burst of water from one of the firemen which sent me sprawling to the ground! Iam still serving. Serving my motherland in a small remote town away from the line of rail and VIPs where I was immediately transferred to after the incident. NB: Contributions to this column, the column you write, should be sent to The Editor, “It happened to me” P O Box 30394, Lusaka, email:tozletters@gmail or drop them at any of our Times Printpak offices.
Posted on: Fri, 20 Sep 2013 11:24:11 +0000
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