Livingstone Living

Livingstone is a wonderfully interesting city. It’s the capital of Zambia’s Southern Province and the country’s most important tourist location. Behind copper, I’d assume tourism is Zambia’s second most important industry. Including all of its (impoverished) suburbs, Livingstone has roughly 140,000 people, so it’s fairly similar to the F-M metro area in terms of population. The similarities don’t extend much beyond that. For instance, there are no traffic lights in Livingstone. Of course, the need isn’t great when there are only a handful of paved roads. Really, there is only one short stretch of a “downtown” type area. It’s centrally located along the always-busy Mosi-Oa-Tunya Road. Here, one will find stores, banks, bars, restaurants, and markets. It is really a thriving commercial area. I even spotted a Chinese restaurant the other day!

With its large size, one will find nearly all occupations in Livingstone. In Zambia, the traditional patriarchal society is still the prevailing custom, so men dominate most of the white-collar professions. Women, though, are not overtly oppressed and do hold some important positions. Beyond traditional jobs, many citizens are street sellers. Some set up stands in the suburban areas while others line up goods on the sidewalk. Others still just carry goods in their pockets. It’s impossible to walk the streets without being offered cell phones, bananas, or copper bracelets. Watch out for the illegal money changers who will happily trade you some photocopied kwacha for your US dollars or British pounds.

Along Mosi-Oa-Tunya Road, I most frequently stop by a bank’s ATM, Wonderbake (for some goodies), ShopRite (for groceries), or an internet café. However, one can also find an ice cream parlor, several sewing shops, many restaurants and bars, and even a small casino. Of course, there are more unique features such as the David Livingstone Museum and the offices of the UN World Food Programme.

Thinking about Livingstone leads me to categorizing some of the enduring memories I’ll take with me from this great place. Chief among these is the image of Zambian woman. This image takes two forms: a woman effortlessly carrying a heavy load on her head or a woman with a small baby attached to her back by a simple piece of beautiful African fabric. These women are incredibly strong-willed and physically strong to boot. At Mwandi school, the kitchen women carried 50kg bags of maize and carried them on their heads. That’s over 100 lbs!

I’ll also always associate Livingstone with a burning smell. Sometimes this burning smell is a small fire used to fry up some fish or other foods. More often, its burning piles of garbage. Whatever the case, this woody/charcoal-y smell is quintessential Livingstone in my mind.
The sounds of Livingstone to me are honking car horns. The horn honking is not an aggressive sing of road rage like in the US. Instead, horns are used as gentle and friendly notices to other drivers to alter behavior, or more commonly to just say hello to a friend. For me, the honking horn also always signals the arrival of our project buses. It’s like an extraordinarily obnoxious wake-up call. In addition to car horns, I’ll also think of street vendors and curio shopkeepers offering an energetic greeting of “How are you my friend? Come see my shop. Looking and touching are free. All prices are negotiable.” Ahhh…if only Wal-Mart was like that!

Not many people make their home in Livingstone proper. Instead, they live in the suburbs/townships/compounds like Mwandi, Linda, Maramba, etc. These areas run the gamut of wealth. Some houses actually appear quite nice. Almost all of these are made of concrete breeze bricks and are ramblers. However, most of the homes in the neighborhoods are much simpler. Some may be built of concrete bricks but will be left unfinished. Most have an outhouse-style toilet, even in the poorest communities. I suspect some foreign aid source or agency funded that project at one time. In the poorest areas, houses are built of mud that dries into a fairly sturdy clay. Some yards have extra large tents that are labeled as gifts of the United States. Of course, these homes are literally side by side with no room for a yard, as if grass grows here anyway. Truthfully and thankfully, most of the homes are serviceable dwellings that are at least a bit adequate for raising a family. They are nowhere near Western standards of even the poorest homes, but the families here are not screaming for more luxury.
Another feature of Livingstone is the huge dog population. Every night I fall asleep to a chorus of barking canines. All the dogs here look like they are direct descendents of some sort of doggie Father Abraham. I have never seen so little variation in such a large population. All the dogs are the size of medium sized labs and have similar type of fur. Some dogs have homes (I know because the gates have signs warning me of this), but most are strays.

Livingstone truly is a remarkable place full of vigor and joy. Like many big towns, especially those in African, many of its modern Westernized trappings cover up the real stories seen in the compounds. Poverty, hunger, disease, and overpopulation are rampant in Livingstone. After experiencing the city for over 2 weeks, I firmly believe that the power of the gracious and kind people here will overcome the evil forces of those agents and lead to a thriving Livingstone not so far in the future.

Zac