The Rains Continue in Zambia
In all the years we lived in Zambia we have never seen rains like this season has brought. Our lawn has become waterlogged and is actually growing algae, the old abandoned pool on our compound has become a dark green lagoon. Water is gushing through drains and across roads.
It’s interesting how weather can change one’s perception of a landscape. I am a Brit and therefore used to rain and murky weather. The grey drizzly days make me feel more at home. When it doesn’t rain temperatures soar and make me heavy and tired by mid-morning, but with the cooling effect of the rain I am bounding around without sweating.
Not everyone enjoys this time of year as much as I do however. We are lucky to live in a well-built house with drainage, but out on the compounds, things are very different. I was chatting to a local taxi-driver and he described how a friend of his has had to send his wife and children away to stay with relatives while he stays behind and sleeps on a table, since the flooding where he lives is so bad. He can’t cook and instead is eating out, we both joked how we felt this was good excuse to eat in restaurants and take a holiday from his family. But this story illustrates a big problem here, regular flooding.
Lusaka is a working city and one of the fastest growing in sub-Saharan Africa. There is not much in the way of tourist attractions, houses sit in large gardens, completely walled in. Rather than existing as a cohesive city, Lusaka is more of a group of little towns that are bleeding into one another. When you walk down the street you are greeted by electric fences and large gates, concrete walls and neatly landscaped driveways. Sadly many of us ex-pats are not necessarily aware of how the other half lives, those tall walls and heavy gates don’t just keep out thieves, they keep out uncomfortable realities as well.
If you cannot afford to live in one of these properties, you live in a ‘compound’ – a township of basic houses, usually brick, small and built close together. Roads are unpaved and most of these house have only the most basic of amenities, meaning they may not have water or electricity (though it does vary from compound to compound).
Poor public transport means that some compounds on the outskirts have market stalls, hairdressers, convenience stores and shacks that sell cheap booze so that residents don’t need to traipse into the main areas of the city. These compounds are at least an improvement on the shanty towns that have grown in countries like Kenya and South Africa, but there is one major problem with these areas when it rains. They flood. Poor or non-existent drainage systems and a lack of forward planning when building mean many of the places sit on low land that simply fills with water every time it rains. Part of Lusaka is built on a large seam of marble and slate which also adds to the problem. Photo credit.
Recently we have seen terrible destruction in Europe and Haiti from extreme rainstorms and although the damage in Lusaka is not nearly as bad, it is dangerous. Most of these compounds have outside ‘drop toilets’ – toilets that are holes in the ground. Many families grow their own food near their houses. With heavy rains comes diseases like cholera and malaria and other health problems as people’s toilets flood. Those families that grow food for themselves may lose their crops because they flood and die.
The sad thing is, this happens every year. Zambians pay high taxes including VAT that is on a par with the UK and yet there is little to show for it. So what is the answer? My taxi driver feels it is the fault of the government who he claims are more interested in re-election than helping citizens. Whatever the cause, until something changes many people like him will continue to sleep on tables in rainy season.
This is Elizabeth’s first post on PocketCultures. She is originally from the UK and has been living in Zambia for 3 years. When she is not dodging floods she works as a freelance writer and helps out at a local art gallery. Find her on her blog Scrapbook.