Blue Skies

Every day, all around the world, people lift up cameras and phones to capture the setting sun. No matter how many times you've seen it, no matter if its the same sun, no matter if you'll never look at the photo again, most of us are compelled to try again and again to capture its magic.  Last Wednesday, looking out the window of a moving truck, I tried for the umpteenth time. And still, what picture can compare to the awe of the moment?

Admittedly, this sunset was special to me. It was my first African one in nearly two years. Perhaps its the red dust in the air, or the glow of fading heat, or the scene that the sun sets itself into, but I'm always enchanted by them. 

***

The road from Mfuwe to Chipata is mostly smooth sailing; you only need to dodge the odd pothole. Along the generous side strip, pedestrians, ox-drawn carts, and bicyclists mingle. We passed through villages that would have been at home in Senegal. In some, merchants spread out their wares upon the ground, lit by a suspended electric lamp. In others, electricity and loud beats flowed outward from the shops, illuminating youth walking with arms across each others shoulders. We shared the road with lumbering trucks, gray sedans, and the occasional SUV. Above, the stars came out, revealing patterns I couldn't recognize. 

Winding through the gentle hills, I would occasionally glimpse a glow on the horizon. It would quickly disappear around the next bend or through the patchy forest. But in a second, we were surrounded by the firefly glow of houses perched on hills. Street lamps began to appear, empty market stalls waved from the roadside; we arrived.

I was approaching 24 hours of near constant travel. Though they share a time zone, I still needed three flights to reach Chipata from Frankfurt. So it was a relief to see the hotel, to get the key to my room, and to find that the restaurant was still open!

The next morning, I was picked up by the incorrigible Irishman, Mr. Creighton, who directs operations at Good Nature Agro. In between stories about the Chipata golf course (the oldest in Zambia), he pointed out the landmarks. There, one can find a good chemist (pharmacist), a shop for chintzy crap over there, and here is the best Indian food in town. At the gate to the facility, a guard took our temperature and squirted hand sanitizer into our palms. 

Inside, people moved purposefully and quickly. Over 200 women were seated on tarps, shelling groundnuts by hand. Children wandered through their midst if they were big enough, or were gathered up into baby slings if they weren't. A team of laborers spread gravel across the road. In the factory, a dozen workers cleaned, sorted, and bagged seeds. Workers wore hard hats, blue overalls trimmed in green, and a focused look.

***

That weekend, I took a walk down the main strip. The sidewalks were full of people going about their business.  At the street corners, brightly stickered bicycles with padded rear racks lay against lamp poles. Young men stood nearby and called out to potential passengers. Women stacked pieces of fruit and vegetables into small pyramids on top of tarps and looked on with patience.  At a strip mall, pieces of marinated chicken turned slowly on a vertical spit (döner anyone?). A driver honked his horn angrily as he pushed through an area occupied by motos, trucks, bikes, and pedestrians. 

I remember my first time in an African market. I was overwhelmed by the activity, overly scared of thieves, in need of a large beer by the end. But now, it feels like peering into the engine of a running car. The market is the heart of the local economy, the place where things are accomplished. Here you can see start-ups, entrepreneurs, craftsmen, and commodity traders. It is alive and intense!  And it makes the sterile shopping malls and overly advertised online stores of the West look like a poorly drawn imitation. 

Standing there in the sea of life, I felt the click I'm always looking for. Africa is a wonderful place, with a million opportunities, a billion smiles, endless cultural nuances, and the thrum of community running throughout. It's good to be back.