We
are all affected by AIDS pandemicTour of Duty: Hanamaila and Chisekesi – Here we come
By Mazuba Mwiinga
We were on again, on another tour of duty on Taonga centres. This time
we were driving to places we thought are near and habitable. Deep into
the work, we no longer regarded our selves as cyclists, but as drivers.
No wonder we were driving to the lands we knew as friendly. Our Two
Wheel Drives (these are pushbikes mind you) scrolled the chains up
the ascending landscapes of Kalundu Ka Masiite in the south. The soils
so wet to push forward; we were in reluctant moods hoping we will be
back in time to get a very long But barely going for two kilometres,
over our heads, clouds gathered. In no time to check our wrist watches,
down the showers poured on us. We quickly turned our two-wheel drives
back and sook refuge at one of the hidden Taverns near the path we
used. Ten minutes later we were back on track, zigzagging past the
pools of collected water from the torrential rains that have been blessing
the place for the past two weeks. After covering an initially twenty-minute
distance by cycling in thirty minutes, we reached the tarmac and headed
west for another kilometer before diverted southwards for another two
kilometers and saw from s distance, Hanamaila Taonga Centre. We were
descending down a highland into a dambo full of water. My colleague
Maxwell Chifuwe leading the way, pumped more energy into his legs with
the intentions of crossing the moving water while on the pushbike.
Unfortunately he only went half way through, and the two-wheel drive
could not go further. He had to support himself from falling by stepping
into water with his left leg and then pushed forward. I stood from
the other side of the dambo watching amusingly. I was in my toughies
and could not take them off to push the bike across the water. So Maxwell
advised me to follow his suit. I went to the top of the highland and
let the bike go. You would have cracked your ribs with laughter seeing
me flashing out the water as my two-wheel drive oozed through the water
to the dry land. And soon after, heavy drops of rain welcomed us to
Hanamaila. We had to cycle faster to remain normally dry, but we could
not do it so successfully. Part of our bodies were drenched almost
to our skins. We were in time to observe the Taonga learners come into
soaked clothes to the center. Very determined to get an education no
matter what the obstacles. In rain or in dryness, they have vowed to
attend the lessons. Started in 2000, the center has two grade 5 classes,
one grade 3 class and one grade 1 class. The three mentors; a male
and two females are dedicated volunteers ready to see illiteracy levels
in their area a thing of the past. The center is just a few metres
from the formal school, Hanamaila Primary School. But according to
one of the Mentors, this has not hindered the running of the school
in any way. It has rather brought positive competition among the pupils
and learners to see who is who. When we arrived at the center, we actually
found formal school pupils lingering around observing their friends
following the mentors’ instructions. A learner talking to me
put it straight that he does not get enticed with formal school education
because Taonga has given her what she did not have before. She claims
that what she has is actually better in certain circles than what her
friends get at a formal school. By then it was thirty minutes after
the hour of thirteen. As we were about to set off for another destination – Chisekesi,
we discovered Max’s two-wheel had a flat tire. Puzzled we halted
and did all we could do to have it back on the road. In no time, every
suggestion meant a lot until we could see the tire inflated hard. Then
some roasted fresh maize cobs were served, chewing we went down through
the dambo and up the highland. When we came to the tarmac we headed
to Chisekesi in the west, a ten-kilometer journey of ups and downs.
As we approached the place, our faces were as if someone from swimming.
Sweat was dripping all over. We stopped and mopped them to appear fresh
and composed though we were completely exhausted. Like a tortoise,
we gradually rolled into Chisekesi and joined the Livingstone Road
for at least 600 metres before we branched into a trail taking us through
tall grass. Within 100 metres, we were stack. The path was crossing
a pool of water. This time we could not do the magic driving through
the water. The land was flat and we were foolishly tired. So we skirted
round the water and found a position where we could do some monkey
jumping and wheeled for another 200 metres before arriving at the Chisekesi
Taonga Centre. The center has only grade 3 and was opened last year.
The structure they use is a church. The roof is almost falling and
leaking. This according to the Committee chairperson is distracting
the learners especially this time of the year when it is raining. To
solve this problem, a new structure specifically for the learners is
at the roofing level. By the end of the rains, they hope that the learners
will be under a new shelter. By 4 pm we were back to where we resided.
It was now almost impossible to ride back. It was a ride and walk drama.
Stomachs empty and throats dry. At one points we thought we would call
for help. We stopped to try to make a call using my mobile phone but
to discover that there were no units to facilitate such a call! So,
all hopes drawn down we drove forward. The places we had thought were
near and habitable were actually tiresome and very hard to reach using
a pushbike. Thank God we at last managed to see the red brick housing
the studios of Radio Chikuni again. Unfortunately the following morning
my friend Maxwell reported that his two-wheel developed a major fault
in the front wheel. And the moment I arrived, I vowed never to use
the tubeless big tire two-wheel-drive again! Its not meant for adventures
of this kind.
