I just got back from home this Thursday the 8th…It was the best thing ever! There truly is no place like home. I was at peace, burdened somewhat by some things but at peace. Don’t know if that makes sense. It was weird in that it felt like we never left but my kid sisters and brothers are no longer kids. They are young women and men. I still can push them around and I’m even more protective over them than I was six years ago.

I no longer see my family through romantic eyes. I am no longer the naïve young woman who left (Considering I never ever thought of myself as a young woman when I left – I was female) I am a woman now. I see things differently and to be honest, my family like all families has issues but we also have love and gifts and talents and a unity that is not present in many families. This trip for me was enjoyable in so many ways and difficult in others.

To start off we almost missed our flight out of Perth but thank God we had checked in online. When we got to the airport, I had to run inside with my hand luggage and stand in line and then had to wait for the other three who casually walked to where I was. Then ran back out when they had come in to help my dad with the remaining bags. Of course this whole time, my daughter was telling me I needed to have more faith and my young sister kept saying to me “woman, calm yourself.”

I was standing at the counter still not believing I was finally going home and even after the boarding passes were given, I was panicking. my mum had to get money changed and I was freaking out. Even after we were on the plane, I still didn’t believe I was leaving the Island and it was only once we were in the air that I relaxed.

My daughter turned to me and said, “You really need to have more faith…I told you we wouldn’t miss it.” In Dubai we almost missed our flight again and this time people were already boarding when we got there. I had gone to the toilet and found my family had walked ahead. I found them but then my mum and sister went shopping. 

My daughter still kept saying we wouldn’t miss the flight and at some point I did tell her to never change and always view things with eyes of faith and not fear (paraphrased). I really pray that she doesn’t because life does knock you around every so often and the older you get, the harder it is to believe that good is coming.

I was struck by joy at being home and grieved when my plane approached Kenneth Kaunda International from Harare on our way to Perth. We couldn’t leave the plane and it was as if my heart was telling me, you don’t belong here. There’s a fear that it will be a long time before I see my family (the one left in Zambia) and that like last time, they might not be there when I go back.

I have not come to terms with loosing my grandmother Bwalya (have to specify which one) and Uncle four years ago and seeing my grandmother’s grave for me was the most difficult part of the whole holiday, She was part of what it meant to be home. I spent a week in her old room and it was confronting because she’s gone. My Uncle, just feels like we just couldn’t meet because he was away or something. didn’t see his grave and so his death is a little less real than hers.

At the memorial, I gave a poem, was going to do two but decided not to. My brother gave a speech and what he said was as true as ever. Life is short and family and God is all we have. Lets not let material things come in between us as people, as family and friends. instead of asking what it is that “this family” can give you, ask what you can give your family. It’s only then that we will be able to help those in need without grumbling, and it’s only then when we can work together to strengthen our families.

its hard to get past thinking about the loss and move towards thinking about the long years we had. I pray that one day, I will be able to look a photos of mama and write poems about both her and Uncle Isaac that are happy. Life is short, Don’t waste a moment of it. Love those around you and be a light and pillar for someone else.

So my sister told me about a woman in Zambia who was sentenced to 17 years for murder…did a quick search in google and found a Lusaka Times article about it. From the news report, it seems the woman acted in self-defence. The story can be accessed here, if you want to see the context of the case. It is said that the woman was beaten by the man and she grabbed an alternator cover and hit him with it. He died and now she has been sentenced to 17 years behind bars because of the “seriousness” of the crime and apparently after taking into consideration, the events that led to the death.

I’m no lawyer but from my understanding, for someone to be convicted of murder, intent to kill has to be established. This particular case sounds more like a case of self-defence and not murder. Apparently Zambia is a Christian nation, governed my Christian values, yet despite the fact that even in the old Testament, God made provisions for those who killed someone unintentionally. There were cities of refuge, to which they could go and be provided with safety incase the family of the deceased wanted to take the law into their own hands. They were by no means thrown into prison and the higher penalty for murder was not applied.

In the Christian nation, however, the judge states that “You killed your own husband whom your children called father, and now your children will no longer have someone to call father,” making me wonder, who is fighting for the cause of the woman, where is justice for the children?

These children now have lost both their mother and father. With the current state of prisons, it is more likely that this woman will not exit that prison in seventeen years and even if she does, she has little chance of making a decent life for herself afterwards. I hate to think what will happen to her children.

Isn’t it funny that when a young girl was charged and was facing possible jail time for pornography charges, which according to the law, she was guilty of, people were rallying behind her, calling for her to be freed? Yet here’s a woman, who in self-defence kills her husband and no one is standing behind her. How many women are going to have to die before we stand up and stop men abusing their wives???

I have been very quiet of late on this blog. I recently started working and have been struggling to get posts out on a regular schedule. I pretty much need to organise myself and get a schedule going. I plan on expanding what I post one my wall to include Zambian cuisine, culture and also how to speak one of our 72 languages, called ici Bemba, while still keeping short stories and the things I’ve been writing about a big part of the site. I think this is still in line with what the blog is about. Things that I am passionate about.