First Impressions
To say I was excited to be finally flying to Africa would be an understatement. This was what I had been waiting for since I was 15…maybe even earlier. I was full of anticipation and hope, trying to picture what it would be like, while at the same time trying not to have to many expectations.
The plane dipped below the clouds and I got my first glimpse of Africa. And it blew my mind. There was so much of…nothing. Open plains as far as I could see. Flat, bushy, red dirt roads and oh, so green! I have to admit that when I thought of Africa, I pictured dry and brown. But Zambia, in the middle of the wet season, is so green; it was beautiful! The plane continued to descend and we approached Lusaka airport – the airport for the capital city – and there wasn’t a city in sight. Just the green planes. In fact, looking out my side window, I couldn’t see any buildings. It felt like we were going to land on one of the red dirt roads. With a few hundred metres to go, the airport came into view. Two buildings and a dozen or so small airplanes. We landed and taxied to the middle of the tarmac where we disembarked the plane and walked across the runway to the airport buildings. It was hot (especially considering I was still wearing clothes from cold Germany), and I was tired from 14 hours of flying, but I was here.
Immigration was a straightforward process, and my baggage was going around the single conveyor belt when I arrived in the baggage hall. In fact, none of the three friends I was traveling with had any trouble either. Together, we walked out of the airport and were met by two members of the organisation we will be working with. They would drive us to our final destination about 3 hours north of Lusaka…more if the traffic was bad. We chucked all our luggage into the back of the van, climbed in and headed off.
Wow. Zambia. You’ve hit me with so many things all at once. I try to take it all in, but I can only comprehend snippets. There are people everywhere. Standing by the side of the road, just watching. Or waiting. Every spare space seems to be occupied by a corn field and I’m reminded that the staple food is maize. We share the road with bicycles, loads stacked and balanced carefully on the back. As we drive along, I can see hills in the distance, but they are probably deceptively far away, as the land is so flat. People walk along the side of the road, and occasionally a truck will stop and they will pile into the back before it speeds off. Near the airport the houses are large and surrounded by high, barb-wired fences. Keeping things in or out? I hear a siren in the distance and immediately all the cars (from both sides) pull off the road. A few police cars zoom past and the we resume travel as before. I’m struck again by how green it is, and the contrast between the green and the red soil. Suddenly, as if our surroundings have just remembered this is a city, a large shopping centre appears ahead. Western and familiar. We pull in to get some food for the journey as we will be arriving well after the kitchen on the base closes. Here I have my first introduction to Zambian money: the kwacha. It’s colourful but feels flimsy as it’s made of paper. I grab some yoghurt and fruit, handing over about 50 kwacha which feels like a lot, but in reality it’s about $6 AUD.
On the road again, I turn my eyes to the people: young boys selling toilet paper, a lady selling corn, toddlers playing together with hand-made toys. There are barber shops every few hundred metres and cages full of chickens for sale. This is the main road through Zambia. The Cape [Town] to Cairo Road. It’s busy, but in relatively good condition. The road is smooth, although the shoulder is anything but. The sun starts to set, leaving gorgeous trails of orange and purple, and we settle into the van for the long drive north. I have arrived.
