By JOSEPHINE  NGOMALALA –
DUE to drastic power cuts that have hit our country, it has become necessary to invest in a charcoal brazier as an alternative to a stove.
I, therefore, decided to purchase some to use at home. Little did I know that prices of braziers have been increased because of the sudden unprecedented demand.
I, therefore, decided to buy one from the tinsmiths themselves who are usually found the slums of our city Lusaka: A place where you will not venture into at night.
I parked my Toyota Dyna on the outskirts of Misisi Township in Lusaka near make-shift markets that accommodate charcoal sellers, vegetable sellers and tinsmiths.
The cacophonous sound of beating metal brought back memories of my late father who used to take me to the market every Sunday to buy fish and vegetables.
There was always a sound of beating metal which I grew to associate with the market and Sunday shopping.
As we approached the tinsmith’s stand, we were accosted by scores of young men all eagerly wanting to do business. This is an example of aggressive salesmanship that you associate with traders in Zambia.
We told them what we were looking for and haggled on the price until we reached an agreement. And then they told us that they made the braziers on demand to avoid losses.
They advised us to pay and come back after an hour. I could not trust them so we decided to wait while they made us some braziers.
As I sat in the car, reading the Times of Zambia newspaper I was disturbed by a dirty-looking man asking me to buy incense. He wore a dirty hat, which looked like a mortar board.
His fingers were sticking out in a pair of gloves which had holes in them. Although he carried about five heavy bags of what looked like garbage, only the incense was for sale.
I could tell that although the man was still in his late 20s, hard life had taken its toll, making him look older than his age. He had obviously not bathed in weeks.
As he extended his wares on the open window till I politely told him I had no money. However, he did not leave and asked me what latest news was in the paper that I was reading.
I turned the paper towards him so that he could see the headlines. Since I did not expect him to read, I was surprised when he read the headline ‘Ndola flats gutted’.
He expressed sadness at this development and went on to talk about the current affairs in the nation. He talked about the rising fuel prices and the power cuts, making suggestions on how the Government could solve the problem.
I was quite fascinated at his literacy and chatted with him a little further. He told me he had gone up to third year of high school. I wondered what kind of misfortune had befallen such an intelligent person confining him to slum life.
The man told me he had been to school in the mining town of Luanshya but dropped out when his parents died since there was no one to support him complete his education.
His said since then his life had been going downhill. After many misfortunes, had had resigned himself to his fate. While I was thinking about his wretched life, he left my window to continue peddling his merchandise.
I looked around and wondered how many other people had been trapped in these slums like himself. I saw a few young men drinking home-made brew and smoking.
Some had a look of hopelessness written on their faces. To others it seemed the drink was an escape from the harsh reality that surrounded them. For others this was the only place they felt they belonged.
An old man wearing a very dirty suit passed by. I wondered if the suit had even been taken to the laundry since it looked like it was hand-washed.
Looking closely at the man, I thought he could have had a good job once but had fallen on hard times. He had an air of importance which he created around himself reminiscent of his good old days.
He stopped to chat to some high school-going boys with the airs of a headmaster. I imagined that he was telling them to concentrate on school as it was the only way of escape from the slums.
Thinking of education reminded me of the tramp I had been talking to earlier. I remembered that he had been wearing a mortar board. Was it to give him a false hope of what his life would have been if he had continued his education to tertiary levels?
Finally, the tinsmith took me out of my musings and announced that he had finished making the braziers. I paid him and drove off to the sound of metal beatings.