The Ice is Melted

I met him along zambezi river and something struck me. Is he a Lozi (the local tribe in western Zambia) or an internal 'immigration' from the east of Zambia as it is said? I quench my interrogative thought to save my mind some energy from racing in this lovely place that the community is seeing me as a stranger. Mixed emotions engulf me since I will call this small village my 'home' in the next two weeks while I await to wake up in my motherland. I come to my sense and realise that there is no much difference in comparison to my beloved country. The people are welcoming and interested in my coming and care more about me than I thought. It confirms to me that truly Africa is the place to be because of the people.

'Who are you and what brings you here?' He asks. My paranoid mind gets confused but I realise that I should introduce myself beyond my name. He ask me of my country and we navigate to compare geography, population, history, politic and many more. I am happy to here and observe that we are all the same. He smiles and nods to affirm that we are one continent separated by mere geographic boarders. At this time my instincts confirms what I feel, see and hear from the people

I am captured by the unique local leadership structure of royalty they possess and how it is highly respected by the people. My interest intensifies and I am eager to see and meet with the chief in his palace to mark my historical experience in this beautiful land. My newly found friend is equally determined to ensure I meet his local leader despite the bureaucratic protocol. This is an event we had planned for some day so it is not a go back for us until we meet the great man. We share our thought under the mango tree and reminisce on the probabilities of the delayed chief's subordinate response. And so we finally meet the chief

We spend time along the zambezi river running away from the intense heat of over forty degree Celsius. Occasionally seeing crocodiles and admiring the life of the fishermen. Seeing the cows cross the river in the morning and in the evening reminds me of my life in the village. Nostalgia feels my mind and it wonders away from Zambia back home several times. He feels that I am bored and misses home and sympathise with me. I wish I could let him understand how much I appreciate his time with me. Culturalization and socialisation intensifies my learning. I get to know the characteristic sounds of animals and their interpretations. Drums beat in the morning and late at night on the island perhaps to signifies that the island dwellers are awake and in touch with the mainland dwellers. The smell of the aquatic life reminds me of my days growing up by the lake side. I gradually fall in love with this awesome place.

He shows me how to approach the community and government leaders. Coming from the heart of the city, I have to dawn different characters to help me identify with the people. Things seems slow at first but I am taught patience in getting things done but of the greatest importance is the humility and love that is held amongst the people. Highest value is in relationship. I survive through by learning the words litumezi and shangwe which means 'thank you' to communicate my level of respect and gratitude to the people I interact with. I follow keenly on the non verbal cues he teaches me; clapping of the hands, partial bowing, intonations and smiles. I great coach he remains to be

My two weeks stay is over and he is not sure whether I grasped it all. Leaving with high hopes that I return to this great land in the near future.

I decide to give it another four weeks try. This time the community no longer sees me as a visitor but as part of their own. I am surprised when people great me by my name, call me across the streets to say hello, asks me of how my family and how my home country is doing, inquire about my stay and duration. The ice has finally been broken. My coach has a sigh of relief and is more comfortable and impressed on how fast we have achieved most of the socialisation if not all. I move in the market with much boldness as I feel I belong, I yearn and dare walk on the treats because people know me. I am not worried to come home after sunset because I belong. I do not hesitate to ask and drink water because they will provide what they have and not run to the shop to buy 'special' water for the visitor. Chicken is no longer slaughtered but I eat from the same pot as the rest.

We take a crazy drive to the falls, crocodile park, make fun and jokes. The ice is indeed melting. Victoria falls is the height of our interaction and we let ourselves loose. Breaking from the chains to reprimand one another and make fun of each other. We both love machines and so we bond, I get to know his other family and they embrace me with love. I move in and out of the kitchen, wash rooms, around the compound without asking permission, clear the table after meals, take lead in prayers and shop in the local market. The ice has indeed melted. We go to his church and I am amazed, he is the greatest choir master I have met in my time. The melodious voice of his small singing group certifies his role as the choir director.

I come back on the new year for another week. Emotions are shared, we scold one another, quarrel, argue, compete with each other. I cry when he cry, hurt when he hurt, laugh when he laugh. I am interested in his growth, we share current and future plans, we endeavour to develop one another. We are free because the ice has melted. He is no longer a friend but a brother. We have gradually moved from stranger to friends to siblings as it happens in Africa. Engraved DNA within our genes do not mater but our cultural practices and socialisation surpasses the physiological definitions. He has marked my 33 even before June and marked my new year. I articulate his thoughts that one does not need a whole community to create transformation but only an individual. I acknowledge that he has mastered the art of personal relations