September 19, 2023
I emerged from Lusaka Backpackers and went out into the morning light. It was a strange time—an extension of the middle of the night. When I arrived here at one o’clock in the night, I could see nothing in pitch-blackness. Now the sun was in the gap of the big trees. I had been walking along the large white houses. A woman sat cutting pineapples, alone in the shade under the tree. I was hungry—I ate nothing but biscuits yesterday. I knew Lusaka was a big city, so I headed to the most nearest mall, Levy Shopping Mall. Along the road, there were purple-green trees and pedestrians walked past. I had always been wondering about this tree since I saw it in Tanzania and it looked like Japanese cherry blossom colored by an evil spirit. I thought Sakura was fragile as if from some distant memory. It would be gone within two weeks. Perhaps my father could know this beautiful tree. At last I got around to using Google Lens app.
Trees color in Spring
Old blood in “Jacaranda”
I always wondered
What it meant of Africa
Calmness but toughness
Jacaranda fascinated me while several young men spread clothes to passing cars in the center of the road. As I approached Levy Mall, I was greeted by a sign of pizza on the huge billboard, and a young man in a Nike jersey running. I felt like I was in America. Inside the mall I saw stylish young men walking on the large clean floor. In Hungry Lion young women enjoyed talking and whispering and eating. These were simple, peaceful people. At the same time, I hated to be a bore about these, and there had been a complication. Perhaps because of such convenience, you can get anything as if to shop at Aeons Mall in Japan, so I went straight away to Pick n Pay, not seeing the tenant shops at all.
On the other hand, I was curious and pleased, for I found a scrupulously clean salad bar. I had been craving for healthy food and there were plenty of choices—boiled eggs and boiled squash and cheese and beens, and fresh sliced cabbage. Besides, it was a reasonable price. I thought I would take out a salad and eat pool side at Lusaka Backpackers, then in the evening I would order a big steak and beer watching a football match at its bar. And tomorrow morning I would better leave Lusaka with good feeling. I had plan and the first thing I had to do was buy a ticket to Livingstone.
I went out of the mall. People walking along the pavement in front of stores seemed to be well off, the cars neatly parked. And it was the first time I saw a bookstore in Africa. I walked toward the intersection a hundred yards, and then crossed it. Before long, I could sense a new tension in the air. I looked along to the bus terminal and noticed garbage in a long ditch. Strange older men sat on the bench under the tree. As I waked past Hungry Lion, the three young men was coming this way with light steps, blasting hip-hop from a phone. “Hello, Chinese,” said one of them. His necklace was bling.
After a while, I walked by men in shabby clothes wondering aimlessly on the mound of dirt. Some stopped to look at me, while others followed closely behind. On the other side of the road, cloud of steam rising up from chicken on the wires, locals sat on the ground in a gathering.
Around the bus terminal there were buses coming and going. A crowd of men swarmed about the stationary buses. Once I stepped into this area, mighty guys came from all directions with vigorous sprit. The atmosphere was radically different from any other developing countries. “Where are you going?”a tall, rangy young man was closed to me. “Livingstone, tomorrow,” I said. “Okay, come along,” he strangely exhilarated. I ignored, walking on. He stuck close to me. When I increased my speed, he stood in front of me, and so I dodged him trotting away. There were dozens of bus companies ranged in front. It was difficult to find the sign of Power tools. “China,” one voice after another echoed. Staring at anything, I had been too scared that I might be robbed of my possessions.
“I introduce the good company,” the tall man said. “It’s okay,” I said bluntly. Many guys hovered about me, looking at me. I quickly walked around looking for the sign while he kept close to me. “Don’t follow me,”I said angrily and was at a loss as to where to go. He did not speak at all, but stayed. “Don’t follow me. I don’t buy from you!” I shouted and then broke into a run to give him the slip in the crowd. In no time he chased me. At the bus terminal in Myanmar, the touts followed me endlessly and surrounded me, and as I had almost lost control, however, I was not scared because they had slowness of middle-aged man, but this beast was exceptional. I stopped, pivoted on my foot and ran on. In the end the tall man stood blocking me. Around and around I moved, “Help me,” I said helplessly at a few man. “This guy been following me.” He had said something to them in their language.
“Go away,” I said fiercely. I walked away. he followed me. There was no way out. “Okay, explain to me, the bus detail.” “Of course, come,” the tall man gestured toward a dusty booth, where an older man in ragged checkered shirt sat dozing off. He had white frizzle hair. The tall man said, “Just sign here, your name,” he pointed at the page of the notebook, gleefully trying to get me to hold a pen. “Sorry, please wait. I just want to be thinking.” He barely heard me, soliciting the dozing older man for a kick back, and almost immediately I ran off, yelling, “Please tell me Power tools.” “Power tools!” “Power tools!” One man started to lead me without saying a word. I could see three persons in yellow uniform standing straight in a booth. “I’ll buy a ticket to Livingstone,” I said, somewhat in relief. Turning back, that son of a bitch was no longer there.
