Today I arrived in Samfya safely. My traveling companion is a guy named Mysheck Fefelo. He is in charge of coordinating the church activities for the Jubilee Center. We left Ndola at 6:30 in the morning and headed toward the Congo. We debated for a while whether to take the way through the Congo because it can be very troublesome for Americans. Luckily, I have a Zambian work permit that looks like a Zambian passport; therefore, the Congolese think that I am Zambian.
In fact, one immigration officer asked me if I was Zambian and of course I told him yes. Mysheck started telling the people that I was a Zambian raised in the USA. The trick for getting through the Congo is to smile and become good friends quickly with the immigration officers. It is ridiculous how many people you have to pay to go through there. There are literally four people in a line, and you have to visit everyone one of them while they look at your passport. Then you have to hand them anywhere from $1-2. They just put the money in their pocket and don’t give you a receipt. Knowing that I am American they know I have money; therefore, their price goes up. Mysheck and I therefore always let him pay. When anybody asked for money from me, I would always say, “No money.” and then point at Mysheck. Of course I had wads of money in my pockets, but if they saw that we were in trouble.
The border towns (see pictures) are crazy places. Everybody is trying to sell you something, or they are always wanting to wash your car. I literally had a guy come up to me and ask me if I wanted to go window shopping. I said no to his question at which time he told me that window shopping is going to look for a girl with whom to have sex. In response I just looked at him like I did not understand. (The dumb look always works when you are in a foreign country.) The spread of HIV/AIDS was exacerbated because of border towns such as these. The towns are know to have a high percentage of people with the disease, and when men, truck drivers especially, come through unfortunately many of them have sex with the girls. Many of the truck drivers have to spend three or four days at the borders waiting to cross the border; therefore, their likelihood of the disease increases with their sexual activity. In turn when they leave, they spread the disease to other parts of Zambia/Africa. It is a very unfortunate situation.
When you cross into the Congo, nothing changes except that you drive on a dirt road instead of a paved one. To imagine it just think driving down a dirt road through a forest for two hours with houses like the one shown in clusters or communities. The one noticeable change is that you do have drive on the right hand side of the road instead of the left. It is weird to switch in the middle of your journey. The Zambian countryside is just like the Congo- forest with brick huts in communities. Seeing rural Zambia makes you appreciate what you have. Though they mostly can’t access them, the urban poor at least have some conveniences around them. The rural poor have NOTHING around them.
Safya is interesting because it is adjacent to a huge lake; therefore, it is a fishing town. In a land locked country like Zambia the lake surprises you. The name of the lake is Lake Bangeweulu, which literally means "where the water meets the sky." The lake is very odd in the fact that you can not tell the difference between the water and the sky. They are both the same color, and it is very hard to distinguish the two. Many Zambians have never seen a lake this size and marvel at it. The sad thing is that because there are no fishing regulations, the lake has been overfished. It is a peaceful place though. Because it is much smaller and less hectic than Ndola the Zambian pace (a.k.a the slow pace) is much more distinct here. That’s it for now. I will be sure to write more about my travels around the Zambian countryside.
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