ZAMBIA LETTERS, 27

ZAMBIA LETTERS, 27

17/07/2025

It was pitch dark, 0430, and I had to wait for the taxi driver. Fortunately, I had been planning for him to be delayed a little. I arrived at the station at 0530, just in time for the bus. The station in Kitwe is small so there weren’t many hustlers around, but the trip to Kabwe was long as the roads were being reconstructed. 

I arrived, took a Yango, checked in at the lodge, asked for another room as the water wasn’t functioning properly, received a smaller room on the second floor, took a Yango to a mall, had some Indian food, went back, did some writing, started a new attempt to read Han Kang.

Hanna called. She told me she had a tip from Victor. He had told us to read a book, that there was a book we really needed to read, a good novel that could give us interesting perspectives... but no. She couldn´t remember the title.

I fell asleep early.

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18/07/2025

Woke up at seven. It was a difficult night. Something is wrong with the electricity in my room. When I turn on the lights, I feel my hand tremble, like you get a little shock from the plug. The blanket on the bed is made out of fleece, pure synthetic.

When I laid down, I got electrified by my sheets. And when I was lying there, I felt something crawling along my legs. I realized that it wasn't insects, but that it was actually electricity sparkling along my thighs, making my hair stand up. Then there was a flash of lightning. Blue flames shot out from the sheets. I thought it might be the fleece blanket reacting with the synthetic sheets, so I threw it off the bed and left it lying on the floor. But I didn't have a t-shirt with me, only shirts, and I didn't feel like sleeping in them. So I had a cold night and I kept on waking up.

Had a poor breakfast. Sat down in the hallway outside the room to take notes. I actually found a pretty cozy spot. There was a steel chair with a soft cushion that almost felt like an armchair and next to it there was a Zambian drum on the floor, which is probably intended to be used as a form of coffee table. At least that's how I used it.

Got off early. Took a Yango to Mukuyu mall and topped up Airtel so I can pay the Yango drivers without having to handle cash, as they often don't have change. Also, bought a pen at the bookstore. They recognized me from yesterday. I chose one for 5 K. So, you only came to buy a pen? Yes. I handled them 10 K. They didn't have change. Can't you buy two? Don't you have a more luxurious one for 10? I got one of better quality then my first choice. I need it to replace my Parker because it's running out.

The driver who came was a woman, Gloria, the first one I've had. I told her to take me to Broken Hill Mine, the gates, and she called someone, probably the office, to get directions. We drove along a railway line, then crossed it and entered a really dusty and run-down industrial area. Everything was covered in brown slag and dust or rust. It looked deserted but it was fully active and at regular intervals there were gates with security guards. My driver asked around. A man said we had taken the wrong road and that we should drive back over the railway line again. She asked him to get into the taxi and show us the way, and he did. We came to an earth bank and a metal gate.

The driver got out and started banging it. I thought there was no way anyone would open it, that there hadn't been people there since the 19th century. Later, it would turn out that there was indeed a guard behind the gate and his name was Victor.

On the other side of the road there were some houses. A man washing clothes called out to us that there was another gate further away. I thanked Gloria and the man for their assistance. He got 20 K for the trouble. She got what the app showed but she called me back and said that her app showed a higher amount, because we had changed destination. It was bullshit, but I gave it to her just to get on with it.

I walked a bit along the earth wall in the direction of the next gate. I came across a hole in it and was able to take pictures into the mining area ibehind. The water pools, the mounds, the gravel roads and, on the other side of the water, some kind of premises. Suddenly I saw a man behind the gate. I waved to him and he opened.

My name is Ludvig Uhlbors and I am an artist from Norway. I am wondering if I can come in and visit the mine?

He waved to another man, who was apparently his boss, and introduced us. The boss, whose name was Salim, looked worried. He was cautious and asked many questions about me and my identity. He said he had to ask his boss and was clearly afraid of making a mistake.

I must admit that I explained myself to him quite poorly. Actually, I was completely unprepared and I didn’t even know what I was looking for. But I figured that if I said I was interested in emissions, environmental pollution and toxic waste, he would certainly turn a blind eye. So I said I was looking for the Broken Hill Mine because I was interested in the place where the Broken Hill Man was found. 

It turned out that Salim was actually very benevolent. He understood roughly what my visit was about. To his understanding, I was an artist from Norway who had randomly gone to his mine to try to locate a national monument, and that was pretty much how it actually was. And I suppose he found my vagueness and my unprofessional confusion very credible. Surely, I must be an artist.

So he tried to be as helpful as he could. He let me take a couple of steps inside the gate and then he pointed in the direction of a tree. That, he said, is the tree that everyone talks about. Everyone is taught that that is where they found the skull. But in fact, it is completely wrong. That is where David Livingstone rested, but the skull was found in another place, not there. But it is difficult to unlearn something, once it has been established. You cannot remove it. So, now everyone thinks it was there and now that tree has become a National Heritage.

If you want to see the place where the skull was found, you should go back across the railway and ask for a man called Gary Domingo. He knows a lot and he can show you the place. It is in a little lake, which has been created in a water-filled open pit mine, and it is actually very close by.

I thanked him warmly for his kindness and gave him 200 K and started walking back. I had only come about 100 meters when he opened the metal door again and came running after me,

Wait, wait, I can help you a little more. You have come such a long way from Norway and have only gone here on profit and loss, I understand that you must get something more out of this. We walked together towards the first metal door, where the taxi had stopped. 

Salim told me that he was the marketing manager, and that it is difficult to find a job these days. The owner was actually his brother. Their mine was not doing so well anymore, he explained, because it was about to be emptied. But the demand for zinc has actually increased.

We arrived at the metal door and he started banging on it. Victor! He shouted. Victor!

No one came. He fumbled with his keys in the lock and tore the door open, nervously. Quickly, quickly, if my brother sees you…

I stepped in and found myself standing right in front of the tree. I got a couple of nice pictures. Then we had to jump back out again and lock the door. As we were doing that, Victor stuck his face out, surprised. He grinned and greeted sheepishly.

Salim carefully drew the route to Gary Domingo’s office in my notebook and I thanked him again. Then I walked back, all the way to the place in the industrial area on the other side of the tracks where Gloria had first taken me to, before we had turned around. As I walked there, I came across many large trucks, filled with gravel and stones. Scattered between them, a tanker truck with water also appeared from time to time. It released a scattering of water that fell over the sandy road and bound the dust and sand.

Then, at a trashy cemetery for rusty old car wrecks, I found Gary Domingo.

His office consisted of a plastic chair under a sunshade. It stood in front of a warehouse that was completely deserted but had a couple of large sliding doors and inside them there were a couple of Chinese men, doing business with Gary. The actual industry was happening in the overgrown area in front of the warehouse. There were Zambians sitting there in tailoring positions, hitting large stones with picks and sledgehammers. There was also a kind of crusher fitted with two large rotating wheels and some of the men were shoveling fist-sized stones into it. Next to this piece of mechanism there was a water tank. The whole environment was just as dirty as can be imagined.

Gary was an incredibly nice and helpful man. He was delighted that I came and ieven nvited me to sit on the other plastic chair under his sunshade. Norway, he said, I don't get many people coming here to see me, from Norway.

Well, I am actually from Sweden, but I live in Norway.

Really? My best friend is Swedish. His name is Bertil Eriksson.

That is a very Swedish name, how did you meet him?

Here! He lives here, he is actually still here. His father is from Sweden but his mother is from Kabwe. So, how can I help you?

Judging by his appearance, I think Gary had Indian roots. He told me he was born in Kabwe but that he had moved to England and that he had worked for British Airways for a while, before deciding to move back. Now, he ran a business refining minerals from artisanal miners, usually Zinc, which he resells.

I explained that I was an artist, or actually a writer, and that I was looking for the place where the Broken Hill Man was found. He laughed out loud. I can show you. It’s right here. Come on. I can show you, and then I can drive you there.

We took a few steps behind the warehouse and suddenly we were standing overlooking a water-filled open pit. He pointed to the other side of the man made lake. There were some dead trees rising out of the water.

“There. Between those poles and the opposite bank, that is where they say that it was found. Somewhere at the opening of that small bay. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

We jumped into his Land Rover and he took us around the lake, it was only a minute and a half away.

This is funny, you're coming today. I have a friend, she works with conservation, and tomorrow they are having a very important meeting here in Kabwe. What a coincidence. You know of course that the skull is not here, it is in the UK. And you have probably noticed that the problem in this country is that people are really lazy, Nobody is pushing for anything. So we're not getting it back. Nobody is pushing. But if you do something that pushes for this, then, it's totally worth it.

We got out and walked a little bit. Our path went through a pile of garbage and he apologized for it. See, nobody cares, we try to clean it up, we do cleaning, but it's useless, its'e really sad.

And with that we got to the water itself. There was a man there, squatting down and washing his clothes. He greeted us in Bemba. Gary was inspired. You can sit here and do your drawings. Maybe. This is a good view. Maybe over here, I don’t know…

I explained that I would cast mask from the stones.

This is a good stone, maybe, This one. How about this one? He gave me many good suggestions, but unfortunately he soon had to go back. His phone rang and he was needed at the office. But he asked me to contact him again and to send him pictures when I was done. And don’t hesitate, he said, to call and ask if there is anything.

The man who was washing clothes had finished. He asked me, very politely and with a detailed explanation of why, for money for food. I gave him 200 K. It was a lot but I didn’t have change and it felt good to give it to him.

I found two stones that had faces, facing the place in the water where the Broken Hill Man was found. The water looked like it always does in water filled open pit mines. It was bluish and clear, as if there were large amounts of lime in the water, and there were small fish swimming in it. 

The casting of the masks took quite a long time to rock and I became a little worried about the sun, because I had forgotten to bring sunscreen, but after a couple of hours I felt they had rocked enough. I walked back to Gary, showed him the masks and ordered a Yango.

Back to the hotel room, left the masks there. Then I went back again, to Mukuyu mall to buy something against the sun at the pharmacy. I also bought a couple of bottles of water. ClaraShey called.

I met ClaraShey at Mukuyu mall and we took a Yango to Nyaka guest house. The bar is located in an open area where there are also several other bars. Right next to it lies the old Mine hospital, which now functions as a children's hospital.

ClaraShey is a teacher and artist, educated in Lusaka. She started working with pollution from the mining industry when she was contacted by the organization Environment Africa. They arrange debates and activities that raise awareness about lead poisoning. The ambition is not so much to get the attention of the authorities, or to push through demands for action, but rather to make private individuals realize that lead poisoning exists. As part of this, they have turned to teachers because they are a group that has a great opportunity to convey information to future generations. One of the methods they have used is, for example, board games; such as the old classic game Snakes and ladders. They modify the game so that you can make good or bad choices in relation to lead poisoning, and when you get to a certain square, it means you made a bad choice. Then you read out that choice and then you go down a few steps on the game board.

A good choice could be, for example, watering the gravel in the garden or planting grass. A bad choice could be taking soil from a contaminated area and using it in your own garden.

She explains that lead poisoning is usually spread through the air. That's why the mining industry drives around with large water tanks and moistens the sandy roads in their industrial areas. It can also affect people through food or drink in such a way that it ends up in the body through their mouths. Lead poisoning is something that is dangerous over time. You can live in the worst affected areas for short periods of time, you can for example rent a house there, but you shouldn't live in such a place for 20 years.

After a while, Mr. Simon arrives. He is 51 years old and has worked in mining for 27 years. In 1994, the company he worked for went out of business and since then he has been working freelance, as he calls it.

I ask him about a typical workday. He says that he gets up at six, gathers his tools and heads to the work site. There he meets two colleagues. One of them is digging and the other two are standing guard. They dig deep, not in a crater shape. There is a risk of accidents and people have been exposed to landslides and have been buried alive. The sign that a landslide may be imminent is when gravel or rocks start to fall from the roof. In that case, you have to escape quickly. He says that it is not very common, but that it has happened and that he has lost colleagues. It is the people standing guard above who are tasked with looking out for signs of an imminent accident.

All the digging is done by hand, without machines.

Mr Simon says that the problem is poverty. If he didn't need the money, and if he could find an alternative, he would rather do something else. According to him, it is difficult to get a job at an established mining company, which has formal safety procedures and more modern equipment. You have to have contacts or be related to the owners. ClaraShey, who translates from Bemba, adds that it can also be a matter of qualifications.

According ot him, life as a freelance miner is unfair. They are the ones who do all the heavy and dangerous work but they get very little paid for their minerals. It is the middlemen, the people who buy the material from them and who pass it on, who make the big money.

He has suffered badly from lead poisoning. At one point he had 80% of it in his body. I am not sure, in retrospect, what that means but I assume he means he had 80% of the lethal dose. In any case, it was a high dose and he sought medical attention. They managed to administer medication that neutralized the poisoning. He says he feels well now and that he has recovered, but he is coughing regularly and deeply throughout our interview. I can't help but remember what ClaraShey said on the way to the meeting. It is shameful to be affected and to appear weak. Moreover, our bodies get used to a difficult situation over time. I also saw evidence of that during my stay in Mufulira.

He still has occasions of severe discomfort that bother him. It manifests as constipation. Sometimes he is constipated for two weeks. The dust collects in his body and burns together and forms a stone that lies inside the organs and causes damage. When it becomes serious, surgery is required.

To counteract the symptoms and the damage to the bodies, the health authorities distribute milk. He says it helps. Milk and milk products neutralize the toxins.

Towards the end of our conversation, he tells me that he has also tried his hand at gold. Gold mining has become increasingly common in recent years and last year it caused many deaths that were highlighted in the media. Gold is common in Mumbwa and Mufumbie. The background is simple. From time to time, landowners pick up rocks that they find on their property that look like they could contain some kind of valuable mineral. They take them to specialists. If they get a positive report, they start digging. The authorities oppose this, but it is difficult to stop. The landowners are often proud and bullheaded. They believe that it is their land and their rights, and they do not trust either the authorities or the big companies. At the same time, they cannot meet the qualifications needed to obtain a license. Therefore, they prefer to dig themselves, sometimes together with labor that they invite. Mr Simon traveled up to Mufumbie on such a matter but he found nothing. One gram, he says, I came home with one gram of gold.

When it gets dark, I drop ClaraShey off at her house and then I go back to Mukuyu and have a Jalfrezi. The gay waiter is happy to see me again and makes it quite clear that he remembers my last order. When I leave, he says I look just like Harry Potter.

In the evening, I make sure to avoid touching any wall sockets. I don’t want to charge myself and get shocked by my sheets. But it doesn’t help. I fall asleep, exhausted, to the sound of rattling cockroaches and the flash of blue lightning from the all-synthetic bed sheets.