BEFORE my very own eyes, in the heart of the Central Business District (CBD) of Lusaka, that is on Freedom Way, I witnessed just one of the worst gut wrenching scenes I have ever seen in a long time.
The surge of rage which in a split second welled inside of me, rattling my emotional stability, was not one which I ever thought I possessed. My body went into involuntary spasms from the anger and disgust I felt, a cold sweat like currents of electricity running through my being, leaving me panting like a lunatic.
Moments later, after I had calmed down quite considerably, I mused at myself, wondering if those who commit crimes of passion go through similar motions, after they find a wayward partner abusing the confidence and trust placed in them.
Quite to the contrary, my burst of adrenaline fuelled by what I saw unfold in living broad daylight, was nowhere near matters of the heart, but however did have a telling impact on the very core of my beliefs.
I thank God that, in that moment, a quick scan of my vicinity, there was nothing which resembled a weapon laying around anywhere near me, or else I would have bludgeoned the back of the head of this bloke flat with no regret at all.
Deciding to stretch a little after a four hour marathon of editing copy on the desk, my legs were stiff and a brisk walk out of the office onto the noisy street, just outside the office door would do me wonders.
Right next to me, two youthful men clad in blue work suits, you know the ones with a strip of bright yellow reflective material on the seams of the lower garments and two straps running all the way on the front back and on the long sleeves of the coat were chatting, next to me, unoblivious that I had been curiously watching them for a while.
Their presence near the entrance of my office with two huge plastic bags, you know the type that those boys at Soweto market thrust into your face to prompt you to buy, when you show them any semblance or indication that you want to buy vegetables- yes those.
As the impatient call boys banged on the bus doors beckoning for a last passenger to jump on their buses, like a last call for the last passenger to jump on a flight before the gates close, and knowing that a pedestrian policeman or two are lurking nearby camouflaged in the sea of humanity, looking out for any truant bus driver who parks in the middle of the road to catch that one desperate person going home.
Then I noticed another quite confident looking man dressed in similar attire as the two chaps who were lazily hanging around strapp past me.
He carried a similar, but larger version of the plastic bag, this one in black color as if to hide contents from prowling eyes like mine. I could see him stagger a little weighed down by whatever was in the plastic bag. He suddenly settled with the other two, crouching down, perching his unknown weight in between his spread eagled legs.
Now I knew for sure that I was onto something, it was just a matter of time that, whatever unholy business which was going down, would be laid bare.
I felt silly standing there, the anxiety and anticipation about seeing what I had got myself into killing me. I somewhat felt like one of those undercover detectives about to bust a serious crime ring.
As the man painstakingly and slowly unravelled the black heavy container, occasionally looking behind his shoulder to see if there were no lurking unknown dangers ready to pounce on them.
During one of his sudden glimpses over his shoulder, his eyes locked onto mine, but, I looked straight ahead of him, like I did not know he even existed, looking way ahead of him and zeroing in on a Tangerine and Banana selling woman who expertly balanced her fruit basket effortlessly moving her neck from side to side, while the katundu on her head remained still. Only her Chitenge clad frame had locomotion always moving ahead and trying to entice a prospective buyer.
I feigned a popular medley, whistling loudly, playing a tune and focusing on the fruit seller.
Momentarily, I Iost my direction and when I realised my focus had drifted, I checked myself.
Much to my utter shock and surprise, as he slowly exposed the content of his wares, folding the plastic carrier-pink! pink! pink!
What! I could not believe my eyes. Inside the black plastic carrier bag which was almost bursting at the seams was chunks and chunks of red fresh meat.
Just moments before I stepped outside the office, I had been editing a very sad story which talked about a Livingstone toddler, who was battling for her life after she was infected with the deadly Anthrax.
She unfortunately developed an Anthrax ulcer on her tummy, which ravaged her frail body and had gnawed deep into her stomach exposing her intestines.
The doctors had made some attempt at skin grafting her to patch the worn out hole in her body. She was now desperately clutching onto dear life hoping to heal and once more, a chance at living a near normal to normal life, integrating back into society and ultimately growing up into a productive adult.
Earlier during the week, I edited another heart wrenching news story which exposed the worrisome trend of some unscrupulous traders who even with the annunciation of a full ban on movement and slaughter of some animals, were now in the habit of drying infected carcases of animals, drying them and placing them onto trucks bound for the Lusaka meat markets.
The meat was immediately confisticated and burnt by authorities. There are many more incidences of people escaping the stringent dragnet, but realistically speaking, out of the numbers of those caught and punished for breaking the law on the ban of the slaughter and movement of the animals, half are able to move and smuggle the carcuses or animals to the markets without detection.
How for instance do authorities register the Anthrax outbreaks almost at the same time in Mambwe Boma, Southern province, Central province and, or in the Western province?
So I watched these begin to transact as the supplier off- loaded chunks of beef into the other plastics belonging to the other two men.
Money exchanged hands and the men exchanged pleasantries and went off their ways into opposite directions.
I was shattered!, broken!, Angry, gutted!
The last thing I remembered was my futile attempt to lunge at the beef merchant, but blinded with fury, I did not see one of the hawker women carrying a case of half frozen mineral water who was at almost the same time that I was in full flight towards the meat boy, was also approaching from the opposite direction.
She was by no means a small woman, and with the case of half frozen mineral water on her head, some extra kilos were added to her already impressive scale tipping, record breaking achievement.
Just as I reached out to the beef merchant, in a split second, the woman hawker had arrived.
My head hit her square in the side of her middle section and she let out a sharp yelp before the clash sent both of us sprawling to the uneven, rough pavement of the side -walk.
As I landed heavily getting quite some nasty bruises on my arms, one or two of the bottles she was carrying landed on my head. I was out cold.
I came to, shouting Kawalala! Kawalala! in apparent reference to the Beef Merchant who by now had disappeared into the crowd to live another day. The Water Hawker woman was cursing, hurling all kinds of invective at me, but we were all but just victims of fate. I invited her into the office complex to dust off and rendered my apologies offering to buy off all the water she had been selling. She did not hesitate to take up the offer.
Unwrapping and wrapping her Chitenge tighter, she took off mumbling to herself as though nothing had ever happened.
The beef merchant, the anger in me started boiling over again, I was seething, and just before I could relaunch my search for the Beef merchant, my phone rang to indicate that there were more stories ready for me to edit. I wobbled back into the office.
At the last count, the government had released alarming figures of about 300 Anthrax infected people across the country- And still counting. This has been one of, if not the worst Anthrax break out this country has ever experienced.
Thousands of animals especially in the Southern Province have been culled just to stop the spread of the disease from escalating. But are we doing well as citizens in helping the government mitigate the crisis before us.
And maybe, the careless behaviour being displayed by citizens is out of ignorance, that we have taken a pedestrian approach to all the warnings of the do
Anthrax is caused by a spore forming bacterium. It manifests mainly in animals. Humans can be infected through contact with an infected animal or by inhaling the spores. Inhaled Anthrax can be harder to treat and fatal.
It is treatable by medical professionals.
It is spread by animals or insects. Requires a medical diagnosis. Lab tests or imaging are required.
HOW DOES IT SPREAD
Symptoms depend on the route of infection. They can range from a skin ulcer, with a dark scab to difficulty in breathing.
Treatment consists of administration of antibiotics.
Short term resolves within days or weeks. Critical needs emergency care.
The first Anthrax case was reported in Zambia in 1914. The first outbreak was reported in 1987 and claimed 4200 Hippos and 1000 other animals.
Another case in study was an outbreak which occurred in Eastern Zambia in 2011. In this case, it was people who had started eating Hippo carcasses because of the dire food shortage situation during the dry season.
Hippos in their search for food started rooting in the soil and became infected with anthrax and started getting sick and began to die. Those people living near the sites of Hippo deaths started collecting the Carcasses as a convenient source for cheap food and they too became sick.
The resulting outbreak of the Anthrax among people who had either eaten the meat of Hippos, or had been involved in the butchery of the infected hippos became a serious and eadly twist.
By September of 2011, the disease had already infected 500 people with 5 fatalities in Chama. A survey conducted confirmed that the primary spread of the Anthrax was by consumption of the infected carcasses due to food insecurity.
Similarly, the outbreak that has hit Zambia lately is primarily due to the consumption of infected cattle.
It has to take a lot of teaching and culture reorientation of long and deep held traditions in especially in traditional cattle rearing areas.
For example, an interview with locals of some of the most badly hit areas of Southern province revealed that, from time immemorial, they often practiced a culture of drying and salting animals before consumption of the meat, believing that, doing so would kill off any disease that the animal had died from.
Such norms are hard to change in people and therefore, more scientific and appropriate re-education modes need to be employed.
However, the government has embarked on a sensitization drive which has paid off and as at two weeks ago, there have been no more new cases of the disease reported.
The issue of adherence of laws and regulations is another aspect that needs to be policed with much vigor and resolve.
The message about the danger of Anthrax has reached the majority of the population and that is why those who defy the directives are using underhand ways to trade in the meat business.
It is therefore arguable that those who have continued with this illegal meat trade are doing it out of lack of knowledge but rather clear impunity against authority.
A point of argument therefore arises, If the majority of the Zambians, for half the year have adopted the fish ban of the rivers and water bodies to allow fish to spawn before fishing, why would it be too difficult to allow a total ban on the sale and slaughter of animals to control such outbreaks as the Anthrax.
I know it also borders on the economy of most households and businesses that depend on beef to sustain their lives, but is that not the same case with fish and the annual ban?
There has to be a change in policy on how we manage such food sources, but If we are going to survive such outbreaks that are partially brought about by climate change; as was the case in the 2011 outbreak in Chama, during the long dry season.
Food for thought.