Not so simple to me

With the exchange rate for the Kwacha being volatile as it has been for a while, DSTV subscription prices have been sky rocketing and that means it is time to down grade on the bouquet option, consequently having access to fewer channel options. On the spin side, it means I have more time on my laptop to do what I love the most–writing!

Unfortunately, the effects of a weaker Kwacha have been far greater than just restricting my TV choice options but also restricted my internet bundle purchases for my chrome book. That means I can’t log onto the internet and update my Blogsite at will. So I have taken to exercising as yet another activity to keep me preoccupied when I am not working. 

The first thing I did was go and buy two skipping ropes, one for my wife and the other being mine. The first day we set about skipping, my wife was surprised to learn that it is one activity I never really learned while growing up.

She was surprised because for all she knows, I am a fairly ‘sporty guy’ who has played different games. As a matter of fact, I am reasonably competitive at volleyball, table tennis, lawn tennis, badminton and even basketball. In addition, I have on many occasions played other games like football and squash even though I never developed any skill of note at both. In a nut shell, I seem like a sports enthusiast hence nobody would have expected that the one thing I can’t do is use a skipping rope.

The truth though is that as simple as skipping might be or seem to be, I just never learned how to do it. Moreover, skipping is not the only thing that eluded my learning process. I was shocked recently when I listened to my 5 year old son whistling to a popular Airtel money advert that was playing on TV. I was surprised by the act because I myself have never learned how to whistle. How is it possible that a fully grown up man cannot be able to make any meaningful sound when whistling but a five year old can do it with relative ease? To escape the ridicule of friends, I have always easily brushed it aside by saying that whistling is for cattle herders and I have never been one.

The excuse is as lame as any that you will hear. The truth is simply I just never put enough effort to learn. The same way I never tried to learn how to use a skipping rope is the same way the virtuosity for whistling eluded me. One other thing that I’d also say that I never really grasped is the technique to execute any meaningful swimming. In my younger days I tried learning how to swim but all my effort was to no avail as to date I cannot claim to be a swimmer even by the lowest standards. My greatest attempt at swimming can only see me on the shallow side of a swimming pool.

However, my younger days were full of adventure and swimming is one adventure I once embarked on. My memories go back to the late 1980’s before I was even a first grader. Mulamba river which flows into Mongu town is a tributary of the great Zambezi river and has always been a hive of activity since I can remember. In the rain season when the Barotse flood plains are full with water, the banks of Mulamba tributary burst and there are larger areas for different kinds of activity other than the main harbor. So many people, children included find spots for many activities among which is swimming.

Mulamba, with maunyamo settlement now a permanent feature of the habour 

Against the wishes of parents and elders we would sneak out for an afternoon of swimming at the Mulamba harbor. I remember sneaking to the harbor on quite a lot of occasions but on all those times I quite never mastered the technique for swimming. On a sad and regrettable note, one afternoon’s visit to Mulamba harbor proved costly as one of our friends drowned and died there and then.

As the naive kids that we were, we ran back home and none of us said anything to older people, another costly mistake as reporting early enough could have helped save our friend. It was only later in the evening when one boy we called Sigumbuli (still can’t recall if that had been his real name or nick name as Sigumbuli means container), could not hold it and mentioned to the elderly what had happened. What followed were massive police interrogations for 5,6 & 7 year olds while a search for the body of our deceased friend was started at the harbor. To this day there have been times when I look back and wonder what could have been of our friend if he were alive today. It was the first time in my life that death came close to home.

It could be the episode at the harbor at such a young age that subconsciously engraved in me how the implications of me swimming could be dangerous and life threatening, consequently I never ever learned how to do it to this day. The incident at Mulamba harbor was a very sad episode in my growing up and despite being quite young, the memories of that day remain very vivid in my mind.

Skipping, whistling and swimming are activities I have mentioned above that I find challenging, but these are not the only tasks I execute with utmost difficulty. My wife couldn’t keep herself from laughing following my reaction when one day as we were driving to our new home we found a snake crossing the road. My first instinct was to drive over it and when I had passed, I made a u-turn and as I came back, I found the snake had also turned and was now going the other direction and I drove over it once more. When I made another u-turn to face the direction of home again, this time the snake was not in sight.

We drove home believing it had gone into the shrubs on the side of the road. When we got home and I needed to disembark from the car to open the gate, my wife asked me if really the snake had gone into the shrubs to which I answered in the affirmative. 
“What if it had just wriggled itself in the rim as the tyre rolled over it and it is now injured but underneath the car?” she had asked.

After that question, I was immediately gripped with fear and even though that theory seemed most unlikely to me the possibility was always existent. To get out of the car to open the gate, I had to jump a meter away and thoroughly inspect underneath the automobile. That episode sparked a teasing laughter from my wife who questioned how I would protect my household if a snake happened to stray into our premises when as a man of the house I had exhibited such kind of fear towards the reptile while I was in the comfort of a moving automobile.

In short, I am a grown-up man with a great fear of snakes. Americans would refer to me as a grown-ass man. While growing up, I lived in places where snake-human conflict was always inevitable. If one lives in such areas where snakes are bound to every now and then leave their confines in the shrubs and cross borders into human territory in the housing zones, then the art and courage to kill snakes must be acquired. In such housing areas survival means being able to strike first before a snake gets close enough to release its full wrath through its mighty venom.  

Without any known policy on snakes by Zambia Wildlife Authority, most of the time snakes are mercilessly killed in the hope of protecting human life. When I lived in Mt. Makulu, there were many occasions when we would be relaxing home and suddenly a snake squims its way into the housing perimeter and we had to scamper for safety or to find sticks stones or whatever weapons to try and eliminate the trespassing serpent. The same was the case when I lived in Mongu at St John’s secondary school teacher’s compound.

Despite the many encounters I’ve had with snakes, I do not remember ever being able to personally kill a single snake. I may have been among a group that killed a snake here and there, but never been the one to deliver the last blow that killed a snake. Snakes just really freak me and I try to keep my distance. I even freak out at snakes on TV even though the TV screen remains the nearest I can ever willingly get to a snake. On TV, I can even freak out when I watch one of those national geographic channel guys who want to treat snakes like pets.

Many a time these national geographic guys will give statistics of how most unlikely it is that a snake would attack humans. I don’t believe them most of the times even though I stay in front of the ‘tele’ and watch on. Could it be possibly true that there is no recorded case of an Anaconda swallowing a human? Or that pythons have never swallowed a grown human or animal except for the smaller animals? ‘Playing’ with snakes may seem simple to most of these guys on national geographic but that won’t give me any motivation to get near a snake. 

I may not be in the most extreme bracket, but I am definitely Ophidiophobic. To me, snakes are creepy creatures and I have no business near one. They are just serpents. In fact the devil himself.

I keep my distance from snakes, I will not be in any close proximity as that's just one more thing that's not so simple to me.