Chief Problems

You would think that being a tribal chief would be all powerful but that is not always the case.

In one community there has been no chief since the last one died because two half brothers are both claiming the throne and the President who, like the Arch bishop of Canterbury and the monarch in Britain has to announce his approval before the chief can have any legal standing.  Whether or not the president cannot decide or is waiting for the tribe to settle the dispute I do not know.

In another case, near Kasama the chief has been prevented from entering his palace by the villagers who accuse him of stealing funds they had raised in order to hire a witch finder to track down one or more witches who must be to blame for a growing number of snake bites.  The District Commissioner has been petitioned to persuade the president to get the chief sacked.  The Commissioner has visited the community to hear their side and is now talking to the chief in his hideout. 

Otherwise we have two new Irish volunteers bringing with them a bag of smuggled blue Tipperary cheese so they are most welcome

Lusaka once again

Alice, my VSO boss arrives from Lusaka to see what we are doing, re-assures me not to worry, just to make contacts in Kasama and the 5 District Councils where we are working and I will find plenty of useful things to work upon.  The temporary lack of petrol in the Province has prevented us from getting out of town but that is now solved so things may be looking up.  First though I have to go personally to Immigration in Lusaka to sign for and collect my work permit which, I’m assured will keep Immigration in Kasama happy despite it being just for the originally planned three months, now completed. A further permit to the end of September is being organised to receive in a month or two.

Still, Alice is driving back the 500 miles and can give me a lift, as well as buying my first (acrylic) painting from Kabwe.  The road is generally good and the potholes easy to see in the daylight – not like a fortnight ago when two coaches collided leaving 25 passengers dead, or dead  before they could be got to Kabwe hospital.  Staying at a reasonable hotel I was then able to get my work permit – as elaborate looking as the one I had in China and then a shopping spree for our house – spare petrol can, a few keys cutting, as much Indian food as I could carry and a cable to link our laptops with a projector. A bus then to Kabwe for a weekend with friends who I had made there before an uneventful bus ride back North in time for an evening soiree at Brother Dominic’s house – he is a keen cyclist, player of the pipes, and raconteur having lived in Kasama since 1963.

falls ner Kasama

Municipal Offices

Monkey at the falls