The Real Africa

Lusaka is unlike any other African city I have been to. There is this dramatic dichotomy of wealth and poverty coexisting virtually right next to each other here. On one hand there are paved roads and wireless internet cafes and modern supermarkets...and just outside the fences of each are beggars and women who sit all day selling produce by the side of the road and street kids living under bridges sniffing glue. And all around this city of tree lined streets and big beautiful homes filled with ex-pats are the dusty compounds of wall-to-wall shacks and dirty streets where the majority of Zambians live.

Maybe I am naive. I guess most cities have this class division of wealth to some extent and I have just never paid that much attention to it. Maybe it's because I am confined to the walls of my cushy ex-pat life with no transportation to see what's beyond them (at least not yet). They call Zambia "The Real Africa," but to me it seems like any other big city with all of its traffic congestion and bureaucracy and hormoned chickens and fruit treated with pesticides and people who walk past you without acknowledging you’re there. Not like the Africa of friendly folks and slow-paced living and awesome fresh food and wide expanses of nothing but bush – what I used to think of as the real Africa. I don’t want to compare this place to somewhere else I have been. I want to love it for its uniqueness and revel in the fact that this place has become what lots of development projects wished it would become. I want to be so thankful that there are plenty of schools and qualified teachers and roads without landmines and fully stocked hospitals and democratic elections. But sometimes I can’t help but long for those quiet starry nights and my little green tent in the middle of nowhere eating a mango that some little bare-footed child has climbed a tree to get for me. Some part of me wishes that Africa would never become developed or crowded or adulterated with our western culture. What would our world look like if we made every place just like the one next to it? And another part of me knows that to some extent, this is good. It is good for people to have proper water sources and access to education and a stable government. It is good for those who live here and good for their children to come. But why can’t we have these things without losing what makes a place like this truly unique? Why does “better” have to be cookie cutter? Why does development have to mean metropolitan and urban?

I don’t want to put my own expectations and views on how I think this place should be. How I want it to live up to my vision of “The Real Africa.” But each time I hear that I scoff. In my head I am thinking, “this is DEFINITELY NOT the real Africa! Where are the open spaces and huts and wild animals??” And each time I here beautiful booming African voices singing tame Southern Baptist hymns instead of their joyful melodic praises to God, I am sad. But why? Why can Africa only be one way in my mind? Why must it be underdeveloped and farm-like? Is it my wish for this place to remain primitive and nomadic to suit my preconceived visions and expectations of the way Africa should be and should remain? Yes, part of the reason I love Africa is because it is underdeveloped and simple. Because it is a break from the norm – from the hustle and bustle. Because people here appreciate things that many times our western cultures no longer sees as valuable. Because life just seems sweeter and less cluttered here. But I know that is unfair. I know that is me exploiting it and perhaps using it as my own personal haven from all things busy and American. I never knew this was “The Real Africa”, but this one seems like NYC and I think I prefer the fake one right now. I know I haven’t been out at all, but I can only make a guess that this is not the real Zambia. Getting out is refreshing. Each time I get to go to one of the compounds and visit our clients in their homes, I long to go back and wish I could feel connected to this city like I did to that place. There is so much more life within the walls of those shanties than within the walls of this concrete jungle. And I bet that getting into the bush will be even better. Every place has big cities and unfortunately this one is where I am living for the next little while. Bit thankfully, the people make up for what the scenery and city life lacks.