Sousa Jamba
I was ten years old when, in 1976, we turned up at the Zambian border as refugees fleeing the Angolan civil war.
I was to spend the next eight years in what effectively was to become my second country.
There are many communities in Zambia of Angolan origin, but the late President of Zambia, Kenneth Kaunda, who has died at the age of 97, is not being officially mourned in Luanda as he is in the rest of Southern Africa.
Despite the official indifference towards the passing of Kaunda, many on the ground and in the villages here are expressing sorrow at the loss of a figure they see as having been uniquely kind to them at a very difficult time in the country’s history.
To note the passing away of Kaunda, memory cards with his speeches are on sale in shops that usually sell cards with Zambian music.
Back then we lived in Twapia, one of the major towns in the Copperbelt province. We had Zimbabwean neighbours fleeing from the white minority regime of Ian Smith; Zairians who had fled from various wars in their country; Malawians who had fled from the Kamuzu Banda dictatorship.
It is hardly surprising that the whole continent is mourning this great son of Africa!
Kaunda, who, before independence in 1964, had been a lay preacher and schoolmaster, welcomed us all. When he would lash out at some incompetent or corrupt official, KK would say, “You do not play with God’s people!”
Kaunda saw himself as a guardian of “God’s people” — not just Zambians. He himself was the son of a Malawian missionary of the Church of Scotland, David Kaunda, who had settled in northern Zambia.
I first saw Kaunda in person at Mwinilunga Secondary School in 1982. I was part of the team producing the school magazine, “The Mwinilunga Express.” There had been rumours that we would interview the president; we were all deeply excited.
President Kaunda landed and came out of a gigantic helicopter; he was surrounded by a phalanx of ministers and state dignitaries. I was, however, to catch a close glimpse of him: he was wearing a brown safari suit, cravat, and brown suede shoes!
He also had the usual white handkerchief which was supposed to symbolise peace — and which, some speculated, had magical properties.
Here was a man who ruled a country, and made mistakes, but in the end lived to see more generous appraisals of his long life.
Image source: @MmabathoMontsho
