Thursday
I have an 8 o'clock communication skills class. I start around 8.30 but even then very few students are present. I talk about written communication and the students look like they couldn't care any less. I never got a good contact with this class. After that, I have a computer class. Again, not very many students are present. We review Microsoft Excel and talk about the coming exam, which I had almost forgotten.
The afternoon communication skills class is the opposite of the morning class. They participate actively and ask questions. The topic is communicating in the internet and netiquette. The students write everything down. After that follows another computer class, MS Word this time. Only half of the students are present, so I wouldn't want to proceed to a new topic but the students get bored, so I have to. Later, I realize that I shouldn't expect anymore that there are so many students present as was in the beginning of the semester. It's the same thing that happens always at the university as well, first lectures of the semester collect a lot bigger audience than the later ones. Of course, the effect isn't that extreme here, but the students have probably a variety of reasons why they can't attend. Some probably have to go to work.
After work, I run around the town looking for a present. The youngest of the family turns three. I had searched earlier for a perfect toy tea set, but can't find it anymore from the store. So I go to Shoprite and buy another kind of set from there. It's 17.30 when I get to Kulima tower bus station, so I decide to take a bus to Leveka, which is closer to home than Snow White. The bus to Leveka takes longer to fill up, so it takes a while before we leave. The traffic is completely jammed. There is a police traffic patrol at a nearby petrol station, so the minibuses can't use it as a shortcut and are thus unable to join the traffic. It takes probably half an hour to proceed 500 meters. After that, the rest of the journey goes fast.
It's already dark when I get off at Leveka. It's safer to walk from there than from Snow White, but I feel more uncomfortable because I walk so rarely from there. I walk together with a woman going in the same direction. At some point a young guy starts talking with us. The woman turns to her home and hands me over to him. We talk the usual small talk until we get to my place. He knows where I live, which I always find spooky. We exchange the usual pleasantries and I tell him that I won't recognize him later because I haven't even seen his face properly. I tell him to greet me when he sees me the next time.
At home, we celebrate the birthday. I give my present: the tea set, paper, crayons and soap bubble toy. She gets also a pair of shoes from her mother and keeps repeating “Is this all really for me?”.
At 19.30, we watch a telenovela called Second Chance, as we do every evening.
Friday
At work, I agree with a teacher that I have the last computer class with his students on Monday. They'll have first one exam and I can have them after that. I want to review MS Excel with them before they have an exam on that. My extremely small Friday class doesn't show up.
After work, I promise to go out for a drink with a friend. He has to meet someone in town, so I keep him company. The man follows the usual Zambian time concept, and 5 minutes turns out to be 25 minutes. It's again 17.30 before I'm at the Kulima tower bus station, but I take a minibus to Chawama. The traffic is almost equally bad as the night before. I am at home at 18.30 and it's already dark. On my way, I hear comments on how I'm late and someone warns that I shouldn't walk so late. I feel frustrated, as the days will only get shorter.
Saturday
I have tons of laundry, so I start my day by washing it all. While, I'm washing, the guy from Thursday comes to our gate. I am not very happy that he showed up there but I go to talk with him. He asks whether I have a boyfriend in Finland, and I say yes. He asks for his profession, and I answer that he's a teacher, because that's the only one that comes into my mind. Luckily, he doesn't ask more questions about my imaginary boyfriend. The discussions turns into religion and God. He says a lot of things and I stare blankly and say hmmm. Finally he leaves but promises to come back the next day. Hmmm.
I finish washing and have some breakfast while watching a live chicken in our kitchen. I decide to go to town to do some shopping. The weather is getting colder, so I've decided that I need jeans. I go to Kamwala, and buy the first pair that I try out. They cost K 60 000 (€ 10) and are made in China. I have Indian food for lunch at Downtown shopping center in Kamwala. It's still early, so I decide to visit the National museum, which is close by. I get the entrance ticket with the local price when I say that I have a work permit. Downstairs, there is an interesting modern art exhibition that was supposed to end already two weeks earlier according to the posters. When I walk upstairs, I try to figure out when was the last time I was in a building that has more than one floor. In the end, I come up with two internet cafes in Lusaka that are upstairs. After viewing the main exhibition that is upstairs, I change my opinion of the Lozi museum in Mongu: It's actually fairly big and extremely well-planned for a regional museum.
I go to buy some food from a supermarket and then some fruits from a market. When I'm selecting oranges and apples, a man comes and tries to sell me a plastic bag. I refuse but he won't give up until the woman selling the fruits shoos him away with an umbrella. After that, I see how a minibus hits a woman. Luckily, the woman isn't hurt. Considering how recklessly the minibuses drive, it's perhaps surprising that it is actually the first time that I see it happening.
I take a minibus back home. A man sitting behind me starts talking with me. He know some Finns, and he works for 4H in Zambia. He seems nice, and I tell him where I work. He promises to come and see me there, as I'd be interested in learning something about what 4H does here. Next to him, there is a man, who seems to me rather drunken, and who desperately wants to talk with me. Unfortunately, he uses Bemba, so he's not very successful. He gets off the minibus, and I have to get off to let him get out. He wants to shake my hand but my hands are full with my grocery bags. He starts slapping my face (not hard), and I yell stop. Everybody around me laughs and I don't appreciate it.
When I get home, only the youngest boy is there, and neither of us has the keys to the house. The women have gone to a baptism party. Eventually, the older boys come home and we get inside. The boys also cook dinner: We eat chicken. When the women get back, the mother hands me a beer. There was so much beer reserved for the party and so few people who drink that they had extras to take home.
Sunday
I wake up fairly early, and have breakfast. I go back to bed and read a book. Then one of the boys comes to tell me that the same guy is again at the gate. He wanted to greet me before going to church. I am getting a bit annoyed with him, even though he is nice and polite. He says he'll come again in the afternoon.
I agree to meet a fellow volunteer at Arcade's. We go to the cinema there and watch The Bounty Hunter. After that, we browse the Sunday market at Arcade's and buy some souvenirs. We also go to an internet cafe to plan the next weekend and have lunch at Subway. We finish by going to the supermarket and I buy a chocolate bar just out of the joy that I can, as the supermarkets, where I usually go, don't stock any chocolates.
When I get home, I ask whether the guy had showed up. He hadn't but he comes almost immediately after I've gotten home. This time he brings a friend with him. I tell him that I'm probably not at home on Monday evening.
Monday
One of the teachers asks me to supervise an exam. The exam starts only at 11, so I am not able to have a computer lesson with them afterwards. Oh well, maybe next day...
A drama group is having a meeting with a potential donor just outside my office. I hear part of the discussion and they refer to me a few times. I get the feeling that they are trying to score a few mzungu points because of me.
Both of the students of my Monday afternoon computer class are there, perhaps not very punctual, but always enthusiastic. We talk about going to US Information Centre to have internet lessons.
When I'm walking home through the Kuku market, a man grabs my arm and holds it so tightly that it hurts. I wrestle my arm free, and immediately another man comes to scold him.
Tuesday
The students have two exams, and I supervise the latter one. Thus, no time for review that day either. I catch some students passing notes to each other, and get extremely annoyed with them.
I have no classes on Tuesdays, so usually I use them for planning the lessons. I need to go to town to take care of some things and to visit an internet cafe. When I get to the internet cafe and manage to open all necessary web pages, their connection drops. The solution they offer is to come back some other time. I haven't managed to do any of the things I had planned, such as updating this blog. Oh well, maybe next day. I head back to work to do some paperwork and to plan an exam on MS Excel for the students. I leave work at 17:10 and make it home just before it's dark.
Wednesday
My morning is rather slow, and after I've left home, I notice that I forgot to take my credit card with me. I need cash, so I return home to fetch it and leave again. In town, I walk to an internet cafe. On my way there, a man starts talking to me. He comments on me being late for work and asks about my weekend. I give short and a bit impolite answers because I find it odd that a stranger talks to me like that. After he asks about school, I realize that I've talked with him earlier as well. I had met him while walking along Los Angeles road.
In the internet cafe, I see a friend and we go to a cafe next door to have coffee. It's one of the very few places in central Lusaka from where you can get good coffee. It's my favorite internet cafe because they have the most reliable internet connection that I've found and even a wireless connection, so I can enjoy a cappuccino in the cafe while surfing in the internet with my own laptop and imagine for a moment that I'm somewhere else than in Lusaka. I stay in the cafe long enough to update the blog and search for some information that had been on my mind. I forget half of the things I had planned to do because I'm trying to hurry up to get to work.
At work, I have only an afternoon computer class. I show them how to draw pictures and insert them to word document. They catch the idea quickly and practice with enthusiasm.
Was this a typical week? Some weeks are perhaps less eventful but I still don't know what is typical in Lusaka. It did have some exceptional points, such as not having any power cuts at work or at home.
Thursday 27 May 2010
Tuesday 18 May 2010
My Africa
A colleague asked from me what sort of things we hear from Africa. I told him that there are basically two alternatives: either it focuses on wars and poverty or then it's hugely romanticized and mystified and focuses on the beautiful nature and wildlife. I think these two images are really tight in our minds. Always when I leave Lusaka and see the landscape, I remember again that I'm really in Africa. Obviously, Lusaka is just as much in Africa but it's hard to remember it because it doesn't match the Africa of the images.
I thought that I'll go through some cliches and tell you how they look like from my point of view:
Poverty. Yes, there is poverty in Lusaka. It's not visually that clear though as you might expect - there are no mud huts with thatched roofs or desperate looking children with tattered clothing. There are people who struggle to provide adequate meals for the family, and who do live with less than a dollar per day. There's obviously a lot to this topic, and I'll try to write something more about it at some point. For more on the images of poverty, check this project that encourages to think beyond the pictures. (via Aidwatch)
Wars. Zambia is a peaceful country, just as I have been told numerous times. There are some refugee camps though, as some of Zambia's neighbors do not quite have as peaceful history as Zambia does (Think: DRC, Zimbabwe, Angola, Mozambique, Namibia). They are visible only in that way that they are mentioned in the news, or as the presence of UNHCR.
Illiteracy. This is obviously difficult to judge, but I would say that it's not as big of a problem as you might imagine. Zambia's school system has it's problems (such as the low salaries for teachers, which makes them very unmotivated and the job in general not a very appealing one), but the school attendance rates are fairly good – especially in towns. According to UNICEF, the total adult literacy rate is 68 %.
Food. 95 % of time, we eat nsima (maize porridge) or rice, with vegetables and beef, chicken, fish, beans, eggs or sausages for dinner. Sometimes we have pasta as well. But yes, the odd stuff, such as caterpillars exists as well.
Heat. We've had day-time temperatures below 20°C and it's only going to get colder.
Wildlife. Again not very surprisingly, there isn't much of wildlife in Lusaka – outside zoos of some sort. National parks are more or less the only places where you can actually see wildlife, and even they have suffered because of poachers. I saw a hippo in Chirundu though, but that is already close to Lower Zambezi national park.
I used the excellent guide “How to write about Africa” as a source for inspiration. Any other cliches coming to your mind?
I thought that I'll go through some cliches and tell you how they look like from my point of view:
Poverty. Yes, there is poverty in Lusaka. It's not visually that clear though as you might expect - there are no mud huts with thatched roofs or desperate looking children with tattered clothing. There are people who struggle to provide adequate meals for the family, and who do live with less than a dollar per day. There's obviously a lot to this topic, and I'll try to write something more about it at some point. For more on the images of poverty, check this project that encourages to think beyond the pictures. (via Aidwatch)
Wars. Zambia is a peaceful country, just as I have been told numerous times. There are some refugee camps though, as some of Zambia's neighbors do not quite have as peaceful history as Zambia does (Think: DRC, Zimbabwe, Angola, Mozambique, Namibia). They are visible only in that way that they are mentioned in the news, or as the presence of UNHCR.
Illiteracy. This is obviously difficult to judge, but I would say that it's not as big of a problem as you might imagine. Zambia's school system has it's problems (such as the low salaries for teachers, which makes them very unmotivated and the job in general not a very appealing one), but the school attendance rates are fairly good – especially in towns. According to UNICEF, the total adult literacy rate is 68 %.
Food. 95 % of time, we eat nsima (maize porridge) or rice, with vegetables and beef, chicken, fish, beans, eggs or sausages for dinner. Sometimes we have pasta as well. But yes, the odd stuff, such as caterpillars exists as well.
Heat. We've had day-time temperatures below 20°C and it's only going to get colder.
Wildlife. Again not very surprisingly, there isn't much of wildlife in Lusaka – outside zoos of some sort. National parks are more or less the only places where you can actually see wildlife, and even they have suffered because of poachers. I saw a hippo in Chirundu though, but that is already close to Lower Zambezi national park.
I used the excellent guide “How to write about Africa” as a source for inspiration. Any other cliches coming to your mind?
Wednesday 12 May 2010
Kuomboka
Kuomboka is one of the many traditional ceremonies in Zambia, and perhaps the most popular one. It takes place in Western Province, near Mongu, during the rainy season. To put it in short: the Lozi king, Litunga, resides in Lealui during the dry season and when his palace in Lealui gets flooded during the rainy season he moves to Limulunga. There is one boat for the king and another one for the queen, and a lot of paddlers in both of the boats.
Soon after I had arrived to Zambia, I met a Lozi at KYP and he invited me to join him to watch the Kuomboka ceremony. The whole thing with the Kuomboka was so Zambian that I want to write it here in detail. Bear with me even if it's a bit of a long story.
Kuomboka doesn't have any fixed date but it depends on the flood situation – and of the king's timetable, I guess. The date was announced some time before Easter. This year the Kuomboka was to take place on 17.4. Thus my short holiday would end with Kuomboka. I planned to come back to Lusaka either on Wednesday or Thursday of the same week and then we would continue on Friday to Mongu.
I had heard that there are a lot of people travelling to Mongu to watch Kuomboka and that the accommodation would be sold out almost immediately after the date was fixed. Therefore when I returned on Thursday afternoon, my first idea was to buy the bus tickets so that we could get to Mongu. I called my friend and he approved me buying the bus tickets. I went to the first ticket counter at the Intercity bus station in Lusaka that I saw selling tickets to Mongu, and bought the tickets. We got the seats numbered 2 and 3 - a not very positive sign. Apparently, I was the first person to buy the tickets. The bus was supposed to leave at 8.30 and the ticket seller told me to be there at 8. I also asked from my friend whether he had made any arrangements for accommodation, and his answer was that we'll work out something because he has so many relatives living there.
Next morning, I was at the bus station soon after 8, and I wasn't very happy when I saw the bus. It was completely empty and didn't look like it would leave any time soon. My friend was more realistic about the timetables and arrived around 8.45. Then the only thing to do was to wait and to watch the bus companies' fight for the passengers going to Mongu. We met a lot of people, and I learned my first words in Lozi. Sometime before eleven, the bus driver started the engine to make it look as if the bus was about to leave and at 11.15 the bus finally left.
The journey took about eight hours, so we arrived to Mongu around 19. We met lots of my friend's relatives and friends there but it wasn't quite that simple to find a place to stay. This confirmed my idea that organizing something beforehand wouldn't have been such a bad idea, as there are so many people going to Mongu, but I did refrain from saying “I told you so.”. I wasn't worried though: I've already learned that everything always works out fine in the end. I apparently looked tired so sometime after nine we took a taxi and went to my friend's grandmother's place. His grandmother had stayed there as long as she lived and now there were still his grandmother's sister and his cousins. Grandmother's sister is basically like a grandmother and cousins are brothers, so it wasn't even necessary to ask whether we could stay there.
There was a small problem considering the sleeping places though. First suggestion was that I can sleep in a double bed next to the grandmother. I said that's fine with me (I had read from Maiju's blog how she had had to share a bed during her first weeks in Lusaka), but the discussion in Lozi continued and the end result was that the grandmother had to give her bed to me and move to one of the cousin's room. That room was apparently too messy that they could have put me there (rather amusing considering how clean and organized I always keep my room). So in the end I did have a bed just for me, and a huge guilt for making the grandmother to go somewhere else.
Next morning, I moved to another relative's house. These relatives were introduced to me as cousins, from which the only thing you can deduce is that they aren't first cousins. That house was better taken care of but I did find the whole concern for a proper place to stay for me rather amusing. I met the “brothers” later as well, and followed the conversation how their uncle / big brother tried to guide them to take better care of the place.
When we left in the morning, I asked what was the word for “mzungu” in Lozi. It turned out to be unnecessary as very soon after that a woman, who was absolutely plastered, came to talk with me and repeated the word “mukua” several times. Just as I guessed, it wasn't the only time that I heard the word during the weekend.
I had no idea of what was going to happen and when, so I just trusted my local guide. It took quite a while to organize everything in the morning, so it was around ten that we got to the harbor in Mongu. We decided to take a boat to Lealui, which is where the king leaves that morning. The views on the Zambezi floodplain were beautiful and the trip rewarding already for that reason.
As only appropriate in Zambia, we arrived too late to Lealui. The king had already left and we saw the boats only from a distance. It was interesting to see Lealui though. Looking at the floods, I wondered whether they had moved out from there already earlier. Is Kuomboka so late that the numerous visitors can enjoy sunshine instead of rains?
After a quick walk in Lealui, we returned to our boat, and it left back immediately. We got a bit closer to the king's boat but then the boat crew decided that we had forgotten someone in Lealui, and we went back there. They took maybe twenty more passengers to the boat and after that the journey was unbelievably slow with the under-powered motor that the boat had. We could just watch the speedboats passing us and doing the trip in perhaps one fourth of the time. Even the beautiful scenery started getting dull under the burning sun.
It takes several hours from the paddlers to get from Lealui to Limulunga, so we had our lunch and met some more people before heading to Limulunga. Limulunga was full of people. The boat ride to Lealui is rather expensive – at least in local standards – but Limulunga is just a minibus ride away from Mongu, so most of the people go only to Limulunga. It all resembled more of a big modern festival than a traditional ceremony. People were drinking beer and enjoying the atmosphere. Both of the big mobile phone operators, Zain and MTN, were sponsoring the event and you could see their ads everywhere. I also saw numerous different kinds of Kuomboka t-shirts, most of which were probably printed by entrepreneurial individuals – I think Lozis could work a better organized plan for selling Kuomboka souvenirs.
We went first to see the Lozi museum. This discussion took again place in Lozi but the answer for the inquiry about the ticket price was “2000 from you and 5000 from your friend”. Naturally, a discussion followed with arguments such as “How can you charge from someone's wife more just because she is white?”. I don't think they quite believed that one but in the end also my ticket was only 2000 kwachas. The museum itself was rather small but interesting enough.
After that, we went to wait for the king to arrive. The path from the harbor to the palace was lined with fences. We were a bit far from the harbor but directly at the fence. First, the paddlers came, they are traditionally clad in animal furs. After a long wait, the king finally came together with the Zambian president. (They were surrounded by policemen, so I didn't get a photo of them.)
We stayed also the next day in Mongu and went to Limulunga again. We were hoping to see the king because we had heard that he is in front of his palace to meet his people, but we had bad luck and he wasn't there. Instead, we went to have a closer look at the boats and saw some traditional dances. Naturally, we also met some more people. Kuomboka continues even after that but I had to get back to work, so we took a night bus to Lusaka. This time, the bus actually left according to it's timetable at 21. The bus had the most uncomfortable seats ever, but eventually the journey ended and we got back to Lusaka around 5 o'clock in the morning. Kuomboka was definitely worth all the trouble, and I would recommend going there to anyone.
Soon after I had arrived to Zambia, I met a Lozi at KYP and he invited me to join him to watch the Kuomboka ceremony. The whole thing with the Kuomboka was so Zambian that I want to write it here in detail. Bear with me even if it's a bit of a long story.
Kuomboka doesn't have any fixed date but it depends on the flood situation – and of the king's timetable, I guess. The date was announced some time before Easter. This year the Kuomboka was to take place on 17.4. Thus my short holiday would end with Kuomboka. I planned to come back to Lusaka either on Wednesday or Thursday of the same week and then we would continue on Friday to Mongu.
I had heard that there are a lot of people travelling to Mongu to watch Kuomboka and that the accommodation would be sold out almost immediately after the date was fixed. Therefore when I returned on Thursday afternoon, my first idea was to buy the bus tickets so that we could get to Mongu. I called my friend and he approved me buying the bus tickets. I went to the first ticket counter at the Intercity bus station in Lusaka that I saw selling tickets to Mongu, and bought the tickets. We got the seats numbered 2 and 3 - a not very positive sign. Apparently, I was the first person to buy the tickets. The bus was supposed to leave at 8.30 and the ticket seller told me to be there at 8. I also asked from my friend whether he had made any arrangements for accommodation, and his answer was that we'll work out something because he has so many relatives living there.
Next morning, I was at the bus station soon after 8, and I wasn't very happy when I saw the bus. It was completely empty and didn't look like it would leave any time soon. My friend was more realistic about the timetables and arrived around 8.45. Then the only thing to do was to wait and to watch the bus companies' fight for the passengers going to Mongu. We met a lot of people, and I learned my first words in Lozi. Sometime before eleven, the bus driver started the engine to make it look as if the bus was about to leave and at 11.15 the bus finally left.
The journey took about eight hours, so we arrived to Mongu around 19. We met lots of my friend's relatives and friends there but it wasn't quite that simple to find a place to stay. This confirmed my idea that organizing something beforehand wouldn't have been such a bad idea, as there are so many people going to Mongu, but I did refrain from saying “I told you so.”. I wasn't worried though: I've already learned that everything always works out fine in the end. I apparently looked tired so sometime after nine we took a taxi and went to my friend's grandmother's place. His grandmother had stayed there as long as she lived and now there were still his grandmother's sister and his cousins. Grandmother's sister is basically like a grandmother and cousins are brothers, so it wasn't even necessary to ask whether we could stay there.
There was a small problem considering the sleeping places though. First suggestion was that I can sleep in a double bed next to the grandmother. I said that's fine with me (I had read from Maiju's blog how she had had to share a bed during her first weeks in Lusaka), but the discussion in Lozi continued and the end result was that the grandmother had to give her bed to me and move to one of the cousin's room. That room was apparently too messy that they could have put me there (rather amusing considering how clean and organized I always keep my room). So in the end I did have a bed just for me, and a huge guilt for making the grandmother to go somewhere else.
Next morning, I moved to another relative's house. These relatives were introduced to me as cousins, from which the only thing you can deduce is that they aren't first cousins. That house was better taken care of but I did find the whole concern for a proper place to stay for me rather amusing. I met the “brothers” later as well, and followed the conversation how their uncle / big brother tried to guide them to take better care of the place.
When we left in the morning, I asked what was the word for “mzungu” in Lozi. It turned out to be unnecessary as very soon after that a woman, who was absolutely plastered, came to talk with me and repeated the word “mukua” several times. Just as I guessed, it wasn't the only time that I heard the word during the weekend.
I had no idea of what was going to happen and when, so I just trusted my local guide. It took quite a while to organize everything in the morning, so it was around ten that we got to the harbor in Mongu. We decided to take a boat to Lealui, which is where the king leaves that morning. The views on the Zambezi floodplain were beautiful and the trip rewarding already for that reason.
As only appropriate in Zambia, we arrived too late to Lealui. The king had already left and we saw the boats only from a distance. It was interesting to see Lealui though. Looking at the floods, I wondered whether they had moved out from there already earlier. Is Kuomboka so late that the numerous visitors can enjoy sunshine instead of rains?
After a quick walk in Lealui, we returned to our boat, and it left back immediately. We got a bit closer to the king's boat but then the boat crew decided that we had forgotten someone in Lealui, and we went back there. They took maybe twenty more passengers to the boat and after that the journey was unbelievably slow with the under-powered motor that the boat had. We could just watch the speedboats passing us and doing the trip in perhaps one fourth of the time. Even the beautiful scenery started getting dull under the burning sun.
It takes several hours from the paddlers to get from Lealui to Limulunga, so we had our lunch and met some more people before heading to Limulunga. Limulunga was full of people. The boat ride to Lealui is rather expensive – at least in local standards – but Limulunga is just a minibus ride away from Mongu, so most of the people go only to Limulunga. It all resembled more of a big modern festival than a traditional ceremony. People were drinking beer and enjoying the atmosphere. Both of the big mobile phone operators, Zain and MTN, were sponsoring the event and you could see their ads everywhere. I also saw numerous different kinds of Kuomboka t-shirts, most of which were probably printed by entrepreneurial individuals – I think Lozis could work a better organized plan for selling Kuomboka souvenirs.
We went first to see the Lozi museum. This discussion took again place in Lozi but the answer for the inquiry about the ticket price was “2000 from you and 5000 from your friend”. Naturally, a discussion followed with arguments such as “How can you charge from someone's wife more just because she is white?”. I don't think they quite believed that one but in the end also my ticket was only 2000 kwachas. The museum itself was rather small but interesting enough.
After that, we went to wait for the king to arrive. The path from the harbor to the palace was lined with fences. We were a bit far from the harbor but directly at the fence. First, the paddlers came, they are traditionally clad in animal furs. After a long wait, the king finally came together with the Zambian president. (They were surrounded by policemen, so I didn't get a photo of them.)
We stayed also the next day in Mongu and went to Limulunga again. We were hoping to see the king because we had heard that he is in front of his palace to meet his people, but we had bad luck and he wasn't there. Instead, we went to have a closer look at the boats and saw some traditional dances. Naturally, we also met some more people. Kuomboka continues even after that but I had to get back to work, so we took a night bus to Lusaka. This time, the bus actually left according to it's timetable at 21. The bus had the most uncomfortable seats ever, but eventually the journey ended and we got back to Lusaka around 5 o'clock in the morning. Kuomboka was definitely worth all the trouble, and I would recommend going there to anyone.
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