I think God could tell I was scared. Quite ironical considering that it was my first trip in five months. I should’ve been excited! Yet at the airport, I half-heartedly disembarked from the car, pulled my luggage out of the boot and queued up for check-in. I had a voyage to Zambia.

Two weeks earlier when I received my e-ticket, it came along with a travel advisory that left me rather scared and consequentially doubtful about the trip; I told you about that under the commentary ‘An air-ticket to hell?’ 

It warned me of all sorts of dangers in the Zambian Capital Lusaka; from stray dogs bouncing on the streets with rabies looking for someone to bite to large malaria carrying mosquitoes-the advisory made it sound like going to Kenneth Kaunda’s city was a terribly risky venture. 

Now the trip was here. With just under two hours before the flight, I sat in the far corner of the departure lounge, away from other travelers, to hide my scared but determined face; seen that look before? Scared but determined. Think of a fitting emoji for it.

Luckily, I had traveled with Robert Greene. Not the man, his book. The 33 strategies of war is a tome I love largely because of its many ancient anecdotes that make it untiring to read. 

Held up in both palms, its breadth covering my face, I groped through the pages almost romantically. Those who saw me might have frowned at the title WAR. 

Knowing about my fears, God decided to delay our departure by over an hour, to allow me time to overcome my fears; the cover story to other passengers was that there was a glitch in the cockpit. But the real story was me for RwandAir never delays; it is always reliable.

The gospel is right about God. He’s all-knowing. The delay helped because instead of departing at 18:45hrs and arriving at 21:05hrs, flight WB0100 landed at the Kenneth Kaunda Airport well past 23hrs and by the time I got into my hotel room, it was well past midnight.

Fatigue, is an efficient cure for fear. A trip that had started on Sunday ended on Monday. Tired, I didn’t give a hoot about crazy dogs, their rabies or fat mosquitoes, all I wanted was to go as deep inside Lusaka, find a decent hotel and tuck myself away in the warm duvet of a large soft bed.

I will assume that the Zambian authorities knew about my misgivings about the trip for in a bid to win me over and forget the scaremongering advisory, they handled me like a virgin out on her first date.

Keep your Ulysses Grant

I had armed myself with a US$50 note to pay for my entry Visa as the norm is for most African countries; with poise I stepped forward to be processed by the female Zambian Passport officer whom I handed my travel document and money.

Officer: (Politely asks). You’re Kenneth Agutamba? 

Me: Correct. 

Officer: (Smiling). Is it your first time in Lusaka?

Me: Correct.

Officer: Are you here for the Meetings?

Me: Correct.

Officer: (Takes my mug-shot, stamps into my passport and hands it back with the Ulysses Grant bill unclaimed!)

Me: You aren’t charging me for the Visa? I asked, incredulously looking at the crisp bill.

Officer: (Smiling graciously). It is okay. Enjoy your stay in Zambia.

I watched other travelers pay the money and counting myself ‘lucky’ I walked through to the baggage claim area, my Ulysses Grant bill safely tucked away. 

Now that was unexpected. That I wouldn’t pay for the Visa wasn’t the plan. I was counting on the experience to inspire a paragraph for this article where I would rant about African governments preaching integration but practicing policies of disintegration.

Nonetheless, the Visa fee waiver was the beginning of a process to decapitate the ugly perception that had been inoculated into my mind about Zambia by the scaremongering advisory.

After recovering my baggage, a lady at a special desk to receive delegates gave me a password for Wi-Fi opening a floodgate of social media messages that I had missed during the flight. 

Now isn’t hell said to be hot? In May, Zambia is as cold as Europe. For a moment, I thought I was at JF Kennedy or Heathrow for on stepping out, alongside other delegates, a strong wave of a cold breeze hit us before rushing forward into the warmth of a waiting bus parked nearby. 

After more than half an hour, the bus pulled up to Protea Hotel Lusaka Tower, a decent 3-star rated facility which is likely to become 5-star once a partnership with Marriot is officially unveiled sometime next month. 

The rooms are warmly decorated with large wall mirrors, Wi-Fi, flat-screen TV, coffee machine, a safe and a working desk. After making myself comfortable, I had a warm shower that helped ebb the exhaustion but its sleep that I most needed. At 2am, I slept, like a baby.

No city for hills

I was walking on a street pavement, hands in my pockets, music in my ears when all of a sudden people behind me started running; I looked behind and one runner almost beheaded me with his elbow as he skedaddled, fear written on his face like a man that had just seen an angry ghost. I opened my mouth to ask the next runner what they were running from but before I could utter a word, he shouted in my face ‘just run, idiot, don’t you see the dog!’ Then I saw it. A large beast with shabby fur running crazily towards me; it looked mad and sick. I ran. But a few blocks a head, another dog appeared from the blue. I stood there baffled wishing this was all a dream. As the dog prepared to launch its canines into my flesh, I screamed and pounced fiercely to grab its rough neck with intent to strangle it with the vengeance of a tribal warrior. Instead, I grabbed the mosquito net above me. God had answered my prayer; it was an ugly dream.

As if on cue, the alarm clock started ringing. It was 5am; time to wake-up and face Lusaka realities. Arriving at midnight helped keep my expectations virgin. I grabbed a remote and switched on the flat screen TV on the wall, a local news channel.

I drew the curtains, ushering in the morning light. For the first time, ‘our eyes met.’ Lusaka as seen from my sixth floor room balcony was as flat as the courtyard of a polygamous African chief in one of the pre-colonial kingdoms.

My eyes rushed ahead in excitement, several kilometers away, seductively exploring whatever loveable features the view had to offer. I could see a play field yonder; a duplex under construction nearby, several billboards of commercial banks’ outdoor advertising, patches of green here and there and not many tall buildings in this part of the city.

Clearly, I wasn’t in the city centre. I later learned it was the Eastern part of Lusaka. Parking space for cars seemed to be everywhere. I scanned the streets below me; they were flat and lanes not clearly marked and roundabouts almost unrecognizable, narrow pavements for pedestrians, but no dogs in sight, a major relief.

The Annual Meetings were due to begin in two hours time. I called myself to order and within half an hour, I was ready for breakfast. The restaurant was on the 9th floor of the hotel. There, a bar too, and a mid-sized swimming pool right at the top. The view was great here.

A swimming pool on the roof-top is something that will soon become local news in Kigali once the Zinc Hotel, right next to the Ministry of Finance, is completed. 

I thought Mwiza was a name copyrighted to Rwanda but the waitress that received me said she had no links to Rwanda. In Zambian local dialect, the name means ‘welcome/come again’ according to her…in Rwanda, it means someone beautiful.

The breakfast setting was London culture. An assortment of fresh fruits and juices and a warm assembly of dishes were on display. Having not had dinner last night, I had a full appetite to facilitate me through the task before me.

I went for my favorite; scrambled eggs and beans with fresh tomatoes and a glass of mango juice and had my fill knowing that at the Meetings, lunch would be hard to come by. 

I thanked myself later as I was right in my prediction. It became a routine every morning throughout the week, have as much as possible at breakfast and skip lunch. It worked for me and another colleague.

Mulungushi International Conference Centre

The 2016 African Development Bank Annual Meetings were held at Zambia’s Mulungushi International Conference Centre built in 1970 with the vision to be the most preferred convention centre locally and internationally.

President Paul Kagame is right when he says leaders in countries like Rwanda have to do two things at ago, build the nation while at the same time correcting mistakes of past governments.

As past Rwandan governments engaged in maladministration, preoccupied with planning the extermination of sections of the Rwandan population, countries like Zambia were already planning for the future, conference tourism through international meetings.

Today, almost fifty years later, after successfully removing bad leaders, Rwanda is now pursuing conference tourism through projects like the Kigali Convention Centre that is set to host the African Union Summit in a few weeks’ time.

Zambia’s Mulungushi was at the centre Africa’s struggles for independence and has hosted numerous AU summits. In fact, a large statue of the African Union stands majestically inside the sprawling compound of the conference centre.

The Mulungushi is like a large cave of conference halls with close to ten conference halls and a dozen boardrooms making it one of the best facilities for conferences. 

But it is its location that makes Mulungushi perhaps one of Zambia’s most prized establishments. Imagine a place where wild impala walk around freely in large groups, grazing on grass oblivious of the human activity around them.

Not a single foreign delegate wasn’t amazed by this amazing sight; on the first day, they couldn’t help but capture these beautiful wild scenes on the memories of their smartphones. 

If everyone at the Mulungushi was a delegate, then these Impalas were the four-legged delegates. Where were they coming from? 

The Mulungushi International Conference Centre is nestled in a unique natural habitat and these impala are among the residents of the wild surrounding that is rich in flora and fauna, a true reflection of Zambia’s African heritage.

Cool Zambians 

To be honest, I was too preoccupied with the Meetings to find time to go out and explore the city and my hotel was conveniently located next to the conference centre, hence no chance for opportunistic driving through the city.

Behind my hotel was a sprawling modern shopping centre full of arcades, several restaurants, a bookstore, pubs a community entertainment centre, a gym and a market for Zambian handcrafts where local Zambians sold their works. It is in these places that I met local Zambians.

They are friendly, like most Africans are to foreigners. They laugh easily. The girls look honest and carry a remote innocence on their faces. Unfortunately, they love wearing imported hair, long and wild artificial wigs imported from Brazil and China.

Thankfully, these artificial hair imports are balanced by Zambia’s copper exports to China and Europe; as a result, the Kwacha remains fairly strong against the greenback for when I changed my Ulysses Grant bill (US$50), I was given 500 kwacha. That said a lot about the local currency.

However, Zambia’s copper exports have, like other commodities been hurt by tumbling prices on the international market on account of which its currency lost ground against the dollar in recent months.

But compared to other currencies that aren’t backed by any major export sales, the Kwacha is in a relatively safer corner at a time when for instance the Rwanda Franc is headed back to Rwf800 for a dollar or Rwf40,000 for US$50 instead of 500 kwacha it would cost in Lusaka.

At the entrance of the gym next to my hotel, a poster announced a three bedroom fully furnished apartment available for rent at 11000 kwacha, a month, inclusive of a house maid. Now, 11,000 kwacha is equivalent to Rwf700,000 but how much would such a facility cost in Kigali?

The cost of utilities is largely influenced by the relationship between the dollar and the Rwanda Franc; we have been here before, no? Fortunately, unlike their Lusaka counterparts, Kigali ladies prefer natural to artificial hair; this will save our dear Franc from depreciating further.