Chansa Kabwela’s case kicks off

Chansa Kabwela. Sorry about the branding, pics are hard to come by.

Chansa Kabwela. Sorry about the branding, pics are hard to come by.

A Zambian journalist, Chansa Kabwela, is being tried on pornography charges because she sent government ministers photographs of women being forced to give birth in the streets because of hospital closures and strikes.

The prosecution has already started flailing, accusing Kabwela’s employer, The Post, of contempt of court because it published an opinion piece by Reporters without Borders.

Utterly ridiculous, but this case is an important test of how progressive Zambia’s government is, and how independent of government and church the judiciacy can be. The government has already failed in its basic handling of the affair, and its down to the judiciary now to protect freedom of speech from government interference – it’s an opportunity to set an historic precedent that shouldn’t be missed.

It’s appalling, absolutely appalling, that the Post has already been reduced to running a statement which says the photos were ‘in bad taste’. The only thing in bad taste about the photos is that the circumstances in which they could be taken were allowed to come about in the first place.

Kabwela faces a five year sentence if convicted. There’s an online petition here which will no doubt make no difference, but at least raise the profile of a shocking case that’s been mostly overlooked so far by the mainstream media. Ironically, for a case about photography, there aren’t even any pictures of Kabwela on the web barring the one above from the (Government owned) Times. Today’s story from the Post is here.

Guardian International Development Competition

You can’t teach a thirsty child | International development journalism competition | guardian.co.uk.

There you have it – confirmation that I’m through to the final 16 in the Guardian International Development Competition with an article based on May’s trip to Zambia with LearnAsOne.

The competition is run in association with a load of NGOs and the DFID, and the idea is that the 16 semi-finalists get to go overseas and cover a story for a special supplement. There were two categories covering both professional and amateur journalists, and a winner in each each (based on the next article we write) will be announced in November.

For me, though, this was the real prize. The chance to meet people at the Guardian working in the field I’m most interested in and go overseas with some of them on an assignment. I’m not naive enough to believe there’s a job waiting at the end of it, but in terms of career-enhancing network opportunities – and as a learning experience in ‘serious’ journalism – it’s pretty much, as we say, da bomb.

There’s also a more personal reason I’m so glad to have made it through. The only reason I was able to take time off and pay for the Zambia trip – something I’ve always wanted to do but never had the resources for in the past – was thanks to a small inheritance from my grandmother who died earlier in the year. She was a strong supporter of both children’s charities and Fair Trade goods throughout her life, and aside from the work already achieved with LearnAsOne, I think she’d be very happy that this opportunity has also come about as a result of her legacy.

As a more light hearted sidenote, I can’t help but smile at the fact the briefing day at the Guardian offices has a slightly different agenda for the amateur and professional entrants. The former have to turn up early and get right to work, the latter are asked to rock up around ten-ish for a late breakfast followed by lunch. It’s almost like they know a thing or two about journalists there…

George’s story

George, teaching about the UN and ZImbabwe to Grade 7s

George teaches Grade 7 about Zambia's role in the UN and Zimbabwe

Apologies for the lack of posting lately – I’ve been pretty much off for a week with some odd throat infection.

I’ve finally managed to get part of George’s story up on LearnAsOne though, which I’m incredibly happy with. He’s literally one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met: I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he ran a kitten sanctuary on the side. Funny, polite, unassuming and incredibly well educated, his presence at Simakakata alone destroys any preconceptions you might have about poverty in developing countries. George was born in a community very similar to the ones we visited and has dedicated his life to giving the kids he associates with a future.

Well worth a read, if only to remind yourself the world isn’t such a bad place after all.

New donations page up

Saviour and Valencia fetching water

Still busy catching up on work, but finally managed to do something useful for LearnAsOne to follow up on the Zambia trip. Steve’s sorted out a project page on the meta-charity site GlobalGiving in time for its UK launch. The site has been a huge success in the US – it works the same way LAO does, in that you can see your money going directly into a project budget – and is properly launching in the UK this week to much news fanfare. Should be some good exposure.

Sunset on the Zambezi

Sunset on the Zambezi

Right, finally got round to uploading most of my Zambia pics to Flickr. Didn’t actually take that many (and even less that are any good) because we had the amazing Brenda with us for that. Mostly, I was busy taking notes and writing.

Apparently, living overseas boosts creativity

Cretalia, in the jacket, Bernard and their sister. Whose name I missed.

Cretalia, in the jacket, Bernard and their sister. Whose name I missed.

Lovely night last night at Ross Atherton’s (editor of PC Gamer) leaving party. He’s off to do exciting things in Paris. As it was also the first time I’d met up with Bath people since getting back from Zambia, obviously there were lots of questions about how it all went. Mostly the evening was spent deflecting questions – I won’t feel proud of the trip until we’ve actually raised some serious cash – but it did make me think of this story from the Economist, which I read while overseas.

The premise is that living overseas enhances your creativity. Sounds like a romantic notion cultivated by want-to-be Hemmingways, but psychologists reckon they’ve found a link. It’s a couple of weeks old now, as a story, and I only mention it because it’s rung very true for me this week.

I’ve written a lot since I got back – mostly laptop reviews for Stuff and finishing off bits and bobs for Gamer. (An aside – The Samsung X360 is awesome, by the way, although I don’t think I’ll be trading in my Eee 901 for anything else any time soon after its performance in Africa.) I’ve not had any time to work more on the LAO blog, or post much here. The thing is, while we were in Zambia, I couldn’t stop writing – I was exercising all kinds of journalistic skills that have lain dormant for a while and really enjoying work again. There are even – heaven forbid – a few short stories plotted out among my notes.

Now there’s a real danger of falling back into the same old routines again – working to deadlines, only writing for money, feeling exhausted because of the enforced early mornings which having a three year old daughter brings. This must be avoided at all costs – but it feels strangely hard.

One of Brendas stunning images from Simakakata

So, two new targets are set. First up, I need to help Steve actually gain some profile for LearnAsOne and raise the money we need to build the school in Simakakata. Secondly, I need to find a job overseas. I don’t think I’ll ever move as a freelance, it’s just too much of a risk.

What’s this?

What would they grow here?

What would they grow here?

OK – my curiousity needs sating. Spotted this farm in the middle of what looked like salt flats or something while flying from Joburg to Livingstone two weeks ago. Anyone know what grows in fields that look red from the air?

Two weeks ago…

…this was a new pair of boots. Most of the kids we trudged around with were barefoot.

You should see what the dust did to my phone...

You should see what the dust did to my phone...

The thatcherless years

Putting decent thatch down is harder than you'd think.

Putting decent thatch down is harder than you'd think.

Just time for one last bundle of thoughts before the plane leaves. Plenty more to write up later, but for now, this will have to do.
It’s as easy to play armchair politics as it is to be the world’s greatest football manager from the comfort of your couch. All the same, it’s impossible not to get frustrated when you know there’s a really simple solution to a major problem.

One thing about Simakakata has been bugging me, and asking a few questions has left me wanting to scream.

It goes like this: there’s no point anyone sending money to fund a school building that’s going to crumble away or lose its roof in a few years. Certified, permanent structures need to built now, or when the time comes for the government to take on the school properly, they’ll simply need to start construction from scratch again.

Building materials here are expensive, largely because the transport network is so poor. Getting metal sheets to Simakakata for the roof is going to be hard work and will require a decent truck. That it should be a sizeable part of the overall cost makes sense.

My question was that if the community can hand craft 60,000 rough bricks and fire them, why can’t they do the same for roofing tiles and save even more money? No-one seemed able to give me a decent answer: that’s fair enough. I don’t know enough about construction to know if it’s even possible: roof tiles may require a more accurate mould or a different type of slate. No-one really uses them in Africa anyway, so there must be some reason.

I asked Haakon, the Norwegian facilitator at Response Network who drove us around a bit, about it. He shrugged, unsure himself. Then he sighed. Then he explained one of the most teeth-gnashingly stupid situations here.

During colonisation, he said, houses were built to European designs and many traditional skills were lost. That meant a lot of buildings going up using entirely inappropriate materials, in entirely inappropriate designs. Like using metal for the roof – there’s barely a worse fabric for keeping temperatures stable, especially keeping the heat in at night. It corrodes quickly in the harsh climate, and is far too expensive for the communities to buy in.

One thing Zambia has in abundance, though, is grass. Great big savannahas-full of stalks that tower over your head. Why, then, can’t the school be thatched for free?

The very basic schools we saw in the bush were. The problem is, that when the villagers build their huts and these rudimentary structures, they just layer dried grass on roughly hewn timbers for the roof. As anyone who’s live in rural England knows, real thatching is a highly skilled, difficult and expensive affair. The two schools near Zimba already had holes in the roof after just a couple of years: when it rains, children have to huddle together near the blackboard to stay dry.

Apparently, no-one here knows how to create and layer thatch properly. It’s a skill which has been lost, and never reintroduced. If just one person in the community at Simakakata could be trained, the school could have a good roof which would last for many years for free. They could train others, and sell the skill on. There are obstacles: getting a trained thatcher here, finding a place to train, finding people to train, but surely it’s worth the effort?

I’m going to suggest it to George, the headmaster, as one of the evening classes he holds once the new schoolhouse is built.

Two new schools

Time to say goodbye, for now

Time to say goodbye, for now

Back with the program today – and everyone in Zambia has a ‘program’ which they stick to as tightly as African time allows.

I haven’t blogged much about leaving Simakakata school behind because, well, there’s no way I won’t be coming back to visit. The staff, George, Sonia, Beatrice, Loveness and Edwin, are quite possibly the most driven people I’ve ever met. The kids – Sonet, Vincent, Saviour, Vaalencia, Alex, Brighton, and of course, little Irene – couldn’t ask for better teachers. Now we just have to build them a school.

Today, though, we went what you might call off grid. At least 10km, probably more, into the bush to see two more schools. We picked up a Response Network volunteer along the way. Which meant the four of us were squashed onto the backseat of the 4×4. Cosy, to say the least. Painful and exhausting too.

The kids of Makumba. Amazing what a difference teachers and time make in the most basic settings

The kids of Makumba. Amazing what a difference teachers and time make in the most basic settings

The first school was much more basic than Simakakata. Makumba Community School isn’t too far off the road outside Zimba, but it’s a simple three room mud hut with no desks and chairs, no electricity and a badly thatched roof. It’s been here since 2004, but in order to attract government assistance would need completely rebuilding to something approaching acceptable standards.

Right now, the school is concentrating on putting up decent accommodation for teachers to stay. They have no salaried staff: the headmaster, Mark Sibalwa, is a retired teacher, he lives nearby and works for free. The other two volunteer teachers come from the community and have no training. At least there’s a borehole right next door so the kids have water.

Mark’s influenc is evident from the moment we turn up.

Even by the time we left Simakakata many of the children were still shy around us, running away and laughing every time we offered to shake their hand with a friend ‘mwa bukabuti’. At Makumba, though, three years of having someone with training around meant our greeting was much more confident and the standard of English incredible (English is the lingua franca in Zambia, encouraged by the first president to break down barriers and promote in a country with 78 official languages. All children have to learn it as well as their native tongue from grade one).

Of course, the amazing welcome means we have to raise the money now

Of course, the amazing welcome means we have to raise the money now

Mark joined us on our mega-off-road drive to Siakayuwa. This is the school LearnAsOne will be helping if enough funds are raised for Simakakata. It’s much, much more remote than anything else we’ve seen. Here, the arrival of mazungas is still greeted with dancing and feasting and a cute sign chalked onto one of the latrines marking it for ‘Visiters’.

Just as I was starting to feel uncomfortably like the colonial imposter, the head of the PTA turned round and offered me his email address. He commutes regularly to Livingstone by walking to the bus in Zimba, to see his university educated sons. While he’s there, he pops into the internet cafe. The lesson is you should never underestimate anyone you meet.

The school here is a poorly built structure with gaping holes in the thatched roof, no books and two volunteer teachers who only graduated to grade 10 themselves (GCSE equivalent is grade 12). They went for a day’s orientation at the nearest ‘proper’ school before taking up their posts.

We didn’t spend long enough here to talk to all the kids in these two schools and get to know them in the same way as Simakakata. I hope to be back here soon.