You know, I can remember it almost as if it were yesterday: bright sun, dust, thronging crowds, Mkishi dancers scaring even the well-dressed sophisticates; a military tattoo, fireworks - and the Union Flag coming down slowly, as the new flag went up in the Independence Stadium. October 24th, 1964: birth of a new country. A bright new, eager and idealistic government, determined to make the most of a country that had been kept back at the expense of its southern neighbour.
And then growing up there: memories of big trees, sudden summer rain, endless bicycle adventures; playing marbles, wandering in the bush...surrounded by poor but friendly and apparently happy people, leaving doors unlocked.... Having a new currency, where 100 little brightnesses ("ngwee") made up one dawn ("kwacha").
And huddling together outside school on November 11th 1965, wondering exactly what the "unilateral declaration of independence" from Salisbury meant. Watching as security became ever tighter; people were deported for no obvious reason; teachers and fellow students and their whole families disappeared literally overnight. Going to secondary school, and singing the national Anthem every day under a fluttering flag; standing up for it every time one went to movies.
Discovering it would be a good idea to continue one's education outside the country; watching as both Rhodesia and Zambia slid down the slope towards increasing insecurity and unrest and unease.
Staying attached, though: marrying someone from near where I grew up; living and working there in vacs, maintaining the passport, with great difficulty.
Eventually losing the links to the homeland: divorce and emigration do these things to one. Watching, watching as home slid further and further down into economic ruin; as the currency became a joke (what's the sound the Rand makes as it hits bottom? "Kwacha"!!).
Then finally, after increasing hassles at airports, giving up citizenship: having the Zambian consul-general in Pretoria tell me that all passports were being withdrawn "because too many Nigerians are buying them". Becoming, at long last, a South African.
But getting excited recently to see a Zamsoc booth on Jammie Steps: seen from afar because of the so-familiar flag (like our noble eagle in its flight...).
And still remembering every word of the national Anthem...for a long while I used to sing it down the phone to my only other Zambian friend in Cape Town; I even taught it to my children. Now I use higher technology: check this link out.
I have visited Zambia only twice since 1983: once on Ushepia business about eight years ago, and again for 50th birthday reasons in 2005. And what it showed me was - the past is really another country; you don't want to try and go back there. And modern Zambia was a great place to visit, but I'm too used to Cape Town to want to live there again.
And October 24th has rolled around, and past, again - and Zambia is middle-aged at 44 years old, just 9 years younger than me.
Happy birthday. Happy birthday, Zambia. I hope to see many more.
Ed Rybicki
