Myukwayukwa, Mushwala and More!!

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The roads in Zambia are long and usually quite straight but it’s the gravel tracks that I found most exciting. Red gravel (dirt) tracks cut through the countryside linking towns and villages. There is a story of one of the early Irish Capuchins out here who cut one of the first of these roads through the bush from Mangango to Mongu (over 150Km). It took him and his team 29 days to go out and 3 days to come back on the new road. The dirt roads call for some expert driving skills and in Trensio and James we had two of the best. They  broke at the last second, in just the right places, to avoid, sometimes, grand canyon styled potholes. Trensio said you know if a Zambian is drunk if he drives in a straight line, a sober driver always swerves!!

Myukwayukwa is an UNHCR refugee camp housing Angolan refugees displaced following the civil war there back in the 1960’s. At its peak the camp (there are in fact 35 individual camps) housed over 30,000 refugees, today that number is down to about 7,000, most of which were born in Zambia (although one young lady reminds me: ‘we are Angolan’, when I asked if they were registered as Zambian’s…that cleared that up for me!). For many years the Friars provided outreach to these camps. The first camp we arrive at is Camp 1. On the way in we pass UNHCR tents and cross a well-constructed bridge, built by the Zambian Army. Children wave to us as we pass and the atmosphere seems as light and colourful as any other town we have passed through.

We arrive at the Church of the Assumption in the centre of camp one, with Br James, who is the Priest to the camp. The church was built in 1965 and is very beautiful in his simplicity. It is kept in excellent condition and decorated with colourful toilet paper draped from the rafters for Christmas! The back of the church is full of musical instruments none of which I have seen before – drums, homemade guitars, a double-bass type instrument and of course shakers – seed shakers are a backbone of Zambian music. James celebrated mass here on New Year’s Eve and said that the roof nearly lifted off when the band and choir were in full flight and, by the look of their equipment, I can well believe  it.Our hosts, a group of young people and an old man who only spoke Portuguese,  took us down to the Hydro- Dam, where people washed their clothes, fished and walked across the dam on the most precarious of ledges, some even carrying bundles of sticks on their heads!! The dam means electricity for the camp and also, quite obviously, it is a place of social importance too, somewhere to meet and connect. We left the camp enriched by the welcome and kindness of the young people who showed us around.

We drove through the bush passing herds of cattle and small clusters of mud and thatch dwellings. People went about their usual daily business. We made a number of short stops along the way as James reconnected with James reconnected with villages and villagers he had seen since before Christmas. We stop at one of the most colourful scenes I have ever come across.  A group of  up to 100 women and children are gathered outside a remote clinic, they are dressed in vibrant reds, yellows, greens, blues and purples. The scene resembles and ad for some washing power. The medic on duty tells us a familiar story. There is an outbreak of measles and malaria in the area. We ask if malnutrition is a problem, he laughs and says ‘look at them, what do you think?’…we did and chubby little faces looked back! Question answered.

On our way back to the Friary we picked up two sets of passengers: a woman returning home (15 km on foot) with her child who has malaria. He was very quiet and looked miserable. Our next passengers were three young women who were off to visit a woman from their village that had just given birth in another village. The distances people have to travel on foot for the most rudimentary of activities is astounding. Our final stop was to George and his wife Agnes. George is a retired school teacher who would have worked closely with our friars over the years. This couple, married for 57 years, have lost three of their adult children to AIDS.  Out here, and even in wider Zambian society, very few families have escaped opening the door of their home to this devastating visitor. But today George and Agnes smile and are surrounded by their grandchildren, who eagerly stick out their hands to shake ours. Life can be cruel but new hope is always emerging, eager to put its hand out to us…… we just need to take it.

Next Stop Lusaka to begin the process of settling into life at St Bonaventure's College.