I’m going to ask you to do something with me. I’m asking you to use your imagination and your inner-child to drive the streets of Chibolya with me. I don’t think I have properly introduced you to our community, and it’s about time you experience it for yourself (in the comfort of your own home). Think of it like going on a ride in Disneyland that transports you to a whole new world, minus the “click” sound of the safety bar falling in place.
“CLICK”. “Welcome to the wonderful ride through Chibolya. I will be your tour guide this afternoon. Please sit back and enjoy the ride!”
First things first, let’s jump into the car! No! Not that side! You see, in Zambia, the steering wheel is on the right side of the car and we drive on the left side of the road. Right, now that we are all in the correct seats, we will take the short drive from our house, to Chibolya. From our house we take a few turns on paved roads and then a left down a dirt road. I mentioned Disneyland earlier, and if you’ve been on the Indiana Jones ride, then you know what it feels like to drive on Zambian dirt roads. The car jostles from side to side, whoops! Sorry! Big bump! I didn’t mean to send you off your seat!
Now we are in our community. As we drive through, the sights, sounds, and smells fill the car. There is not a cloud in the sky and the sun beats down at a comfortable 80 degrees. There is dust everywhere. And I mean everywhere. The plants nearest the roads are no longer green but a light brown because of the dust. As we drive, we pass Mapalo School, the school we are involved in. You can hear the sounds of children playing and laughing. We continue on and now we see women fetching water from the borehole (like a well with a pump). Their conversation is flowing as their buckets fill with manzi (water).
Continuing on, we pass little shops of women selling tomatoes, onions, and potatoes from the front of their homes. We greet them with a “mwachoma bwanji” (good afternoon). We smell the charcoal burning in people’s small stoves. It’s not an unpleasant smell, in fact it is reminiscent of camping as a child. Kids start shouting “muzungu, muzungu!” (white person) at us. We smile and wave and go on our way.
We are almost at the end of Chibolya. We pass more homes made of brick, concrete, and metal roofs. “Clack, clack, clack” we hear men hammering away at pieces of metal to make mbaula (small, charcoal stoves). We take one final look at Chibolya, and then we are back on paved roads.
Thank you for joining me on a tour through our community! I hope you got a small taste of Chibolya and what it feels like.