Double Your Nyanja! Muzungu (white person/foreigner) AND Njinga (bicycle)

Foreigners in Zambia, even if you don't learn "Muli Bwanji? / Bwino" ("How are you? / Good"), you will know this word:

muzungu.

This word means YOU. Many of us believe that muzungu means "white person," with Asians often grouped together in there, too, but some Zambians will insist that muzungu simply means "foreigner." But you'll also hear light skinned "bantu" Zambians being called "muzungu," as well as white Zambians. A black Zambian can even be called "muzungu" for dressing or talking like a "foreigner." So, perhaps we can just allow the definition of muzungu to be vague.

Now, muzungus, please heed my advice: you must learn more words in Nyanja than just "bwino" and "muzungu"! Here's a little story about why...

Before I knew the 100 or so nyanja words that I know now, (I better start learning more, or I will run out of blog posts!), I used to think, every time I heard the word muzungu in my presence, that the Zambians around me were speaking negatively about me. I would get paranoid. Sometimes I would get so exasperated with people "talking about me" and talking TO me, that I would retaliate. ("Why are you talking to me? Is it because I'm white?") And, the frustration of hearing "muzungu" spoken in my presence, but not TO me, inspired me to learn one of my favorite, though not-entirely-true, Nyanja phrases, "Nimvela chinyanja," meaning, "I understand Nyanja."

Here's a word for you, to learn, which helped take the sting out of "muzungu" for me, "njinga." It means "bicycle."

(Here's another picture of some muzungus on njinjas, in Meheba Refugee Settlement featuring muzungus: me and Cody, with bantus: Olila, Kwase, and some other great friends, I'm sorry, your names are not coming to me right now. Give me a break - this is from 2006!)

Last blog post I showed some pictures of different kinds of katundu that people carry using njingas in Zambia.

If you really want to have a good bicycle experience in Zambia, look no further than Chipata. Located in the Eastern Province of Zambia, near the border of Malawi, Chipata is like the Amsterdam of Zambia, in terms of bicycles. There are bikes everywhere! Those Chipatans must have very strong leg muscles, because it is also quite hilly, mountainous, even.

Photos courtesy of Jeana Hickling:

One nice thing to do in Chipata, is to take advantage of the njinga taxis. For less than a dollar, you can sit on the nice padded carrier on the back of an nginga and have the driver pedal you to your destination. (This photo courtesy of our friend Reinier van Oorsouw, though I found it in a Google search!) Notice the nice, comfy, padded carrier...

During one trip there with my sister Jeana, we rented a couple of personal njingas. While taking a little ride, I heard someone by the road say, "Muzungu achova njinga."

Now, if I would have only known the word muzungu, I would have heard this: "Muzungu blah-blah-blah blah-blah-blah, and would have assumed that the guy was making fun of me, and might have even gotten mad. But, instead, I understood that all he was saying was, "The foreigner is riding a bike," which makes perfect sense! I WAS a foreigner in Chipata, and I WAS riding a bike. (Also, please note, it is not uncommon in Zambia to hear people state the obvious. For instance: I'm washing my clothes. My housemate walks up to me and says, "You're washing your clothes?" Hey, that's one way to make conversation.)

The moral of the story is, when you hear the word "muzungu," the person speaking COULD be saying something harmless. Heck, they could even be saying something NICE. And then again, they COULD actually be making fun of you. The only way to know is to learn Nyanja... or just ask what they said.

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Jeana achova njinga ku Chipata...

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As a side note, you may have issue with being called muzungu, simply because you don't think it is nice to be singled out because of race or ethnicity. Here's another great reason to learn Nyanja, or other local languages. It can empower you to express these feelings! Some dear friends of mine, John and Jolie, became fluent in Bemba (the OTHER main Zambian language to learn) and Swahili when they were working in a refugee camp. (By the way, I found this AWESOME while simultaneously being mad and jealous because I wasn't and am still not fluent in any Zambian language. .... Confessions!) The kids in the communities we worked with would chase us saying "muzungu!" over and over again. I remember John explaining to the children, in a language they could understand, that they should call him "John" or "friend" and not "muzungu."

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I came across this list of bike-friendly cities. We're very proud that Cape Town is there representing Africa, but would love to see Chipata on the next list!

http://matadornetwork.com/trips/the-worlds-15-most-bike-friendly-cities/

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Here's an article about Chipata, complete with a slideshow of njinga pictures!

http://www.streetnewsservice.org/news/2011/march/feed-271/the-death-of-zambia%E2%80%99s-iron-horse.aspx

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Vocabulary:

muzungu (moo-ZOOn-goo)- foreigner, white person. Slang: light-skinned African person, or African who "acts" white.

bantu (BAHN-too) - in Nyanja, "people." Also describes a general group of language/ethnicity that spans across Sub-Saharan Africa, differentiates "black" Africans from Africans of Asian/White/Arab/etc descent.

Nimvela chinyanja (neem-VAY-lah cheen-YUN-jah) - I understand Nyanja.

katundu (kah-TOON-doo) - luggage

njinga (n-JEENG-ah) - bicycle

kuchova (k00-CHOH-vah)- to ride (a bike)

Muzungu achova njinga (moo-ZOON-goo ah-CHOH-vah n-JEENG-ah) - The foreigner is riding a bike.

Muli bwanji? (MOO-lee BWAHN-jee)- how are you?

Bwino (BWEE-no) - good

Katundu (luggage)

Eight months ago, my husband, daughter, and I boarded an airplane with one-way tickets to America. We moved. And the only katundu (luggage) that we brought with us was the normal airplane baggage allowance plus one suitcase. We had sold our car, sold Mathew's home recording studio, and sold and given away lots of furniture, clothes, and books, only packing up a few boxes of things to put in storage, at my grandfather-in-law's place, for when we eventually go back. It sure felt freeing to downsize our life!

And what do you know, the first day back in America, where did we go? Garage sales! Welcome to the USA, land of lots of easily accessible cheap junk! (Or treasure, depending how you look at it.) We actually did enjoy browsing through the salaula (second hand items), and realizing that we can get some things here easily that were harder to obtain in Lusaka. But it put up a red flag in my mind: Now that we've just downsized our worldly belongings, lets try not to re-stock on things we don't necessarily need.

A few months later, we moved from my mother's house in Pittsburgh, and all the family support that went along with it, to DeKalb, Illinois, a rural University town where we didn't know anyone. Coming from Lusaka, a busy city with very accessible public transportation, we did not foresee the need of having a car before coming here. Luckily, we found an apartment near the university and a bus line going to a shopping area. (Although there is literally NO public transport OUTSIDE of this town, apart from 2 five hour windows per week.)

Needless to say, we had to get creative, African-creative at times, to get some things done.


Bicycles in the US are often used for recreational purposes, but Mathew, with his $5 salaula bike from that first day in America, and me with my family-hand-me-down bike, and Nzinzi with her bike-seat, have been using them for utilitarian purposes.

One of the things that always fascinated me about Zambia was the incredible things people could carry on bicycles, for instance: a large adult-sized live pig; or a 4 meter high stack of bags of charcoal; or the entire family (one kid in front of peddling Dad, mom behind, sitting on the carrier, with a baby tied to her back).


Here are some examples of the katundu that people carry on bicycles in Zambia, courtesy of ace photographer, Ian Hanover:

My Illinois-katundu never got that extensive, but I have definitely mastered the art of carrying myself, Nzinzi, and 10 shopping bags on my bike. Talk about a leg workout!

Here we are this summer, BEFORE going to the store:

(How spoiled Nzinzi is with her fancy American bike-seat and helmet!)

When I haven't feel like pedalling, we have also carried our grocery store katundu on buses, getting it from the bus stop to the house by hanging bags on the baby stroller and using Nzinzi as a counter-weight. (What a helpful girl!)

When you have a car, you don't think about katundu that much. If you have something bulky to take from point A to point B, you just put it in the car and go. A lot of Zambians have cars, but MOST Zambians don't, so katundu is something you see a lot. Ever ridden a minibus? People get on their with multiple big baskets, boxes, bags, and depending on the area, even animals. I have used this form of public transportation in Zambia for years, and it still hasn't lost its charm. Especially on long-distance buses, katundu can fill up more of the bus than people do, overhead, on laps, under the bus, in the aisles! (With driver, conductor and passengers, crossing their fingers that the bus doesn't get stopped by police.)

Nzinzi has a great children's book called "Tap-Tap" which documents the excitement of getting everyone and their luggage onto a small truck for the commute home from a day at the market. Although set in Haiti, it mirrors our minibus experiences in Zambia. (For more information on the book, click here.)

For those of you with cars, enjoy the blessing! And hopefully we will be joining your ranks soon. For those of you without cars, who have to creatively carry your katundu, God bless you. And enjoy the good company (if you're in Africa), or the funny looks you may get (if you're in DeKalb, Illinois)! And don't forget, you're getting your exercise!

As an end-note, in my research for this post, I have been informed that there is an alternate meaning for katundu, which I prefer not to discuss on my family-friendly blog. Please ask a Zambian friend about this innuendo. :-)

Vocabulary:
katundu (pr. kah-TOON-doo) = luggage

salaula (pr. sah-lah-OO-lah) = second hand goods (usually clothes)

Chikondi (love)

"Chikwati sindalama; chikwati ni chikondi." *

(Marriage is not money; marriage is love.)

-Mathew Tembo


Valentines Day is upon us. I'm not usually a promoter of commercialized holidays, but I do like an excuse to celebrate love. Sure, romance can be nice, but you can also use the special occasion to show your friends that you love them, too! You don't necessarily need to go out and spend money on something valentiney. You could make something, bake something, knit something, write a poem or a song, choreograph a Valentine's dance, make home-made valentine's cards, anything to show your loved ones that you love them!

Here are some of the Valentines that Nzinzi and I made:

If you're not into the romantic love or the brotherly love, you can always celebrate football love, because the Zambian Chipolopolo boys are the Champions of the Africa Cup of Nations!

These football champions are giving some love to their new Valentine:

(article here: http://www.flavafm.co.zm/):

Here are some loving Nyanja words to get you through the day:

Kukonda (pr. "koo-KOHN-dah) = to love

Chikondi (pr. "chee-KOHN-dee") = love

Nikukonda (pr. "nee-koo-KOHN-dah") = I love you.

Nikukonda maningi (pr. "nee-koo-KOHN-dah mah-NEEN-ghee") = I love you a lot.

Nikonda Chipolopolo = I love the Zambian National Soccer Team! (Literally, "I love the bullet.")

Nikonda ______ = I love ______ (You can fill in the blank for yourself!)

*(Buy Mathew Tembo's "Chikwati Sindalama" here.)

And lastly, here's a great Zambian song about loving someone for who they are, not for what they have! (Some Zambian men love this idea, because they think Zambian women just want expensive gifts! Ladies, is this true? Nalu says no.) And it's in English!

Chipolopolo (bullet)

This weekend, the world witnessed another historic sporting event. Millions of fans followed as one team battled it out against another, trying to get the ball to the opposite side of the field. Finally, the winner emerged victorious and the losers returned home empty handed.

The sport I am talking about is football, of course! And the game I am talking about is, of course, the Africa Cup quarter final match between Zambia and Sudan. Yes, "football," known popularly in the United States as "soccer." You might note that a lesser known game, called "American football" also had a big match this weekend, the "Super Bowl."

During a breathtaking 90 minutes, Zambia managed to score, not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES against Sudan. Take that, Sudan! (Now, if it were Southern Sudan, I'd be a little more gentle.)

The nickname of the Zambian National Football (Soccer) Team is "Chipolopolo." Here's how to pronounce it: "chee-POH-lo-POH-lo." Here's another way to say it, if you're excitedly cheering: "CHEEP-oh-LO-poh-LO!"

Chipolopolo means "bullet." Yes, this is what we Zambians use to kill the other team! Metaphorically speaking, of course. The Zambian National Team are also sometimes called "The Copper Bullets." (Can anyone tell me how to say "copper" in Nyanja?) Copper mining and export is one of the biggest industries in Zambia. Here's an idea: who wants to start a copper refining and manufacturing business IN ZAMBIA? Why are we exporting raw material when we could be making more money off of the finished product? Not to mention creating jobs. Hm?

Back to football. After the Chipolopolo boys pierced the heart of the Sudanese team, the Copper Bullets are on to the next big target, and its a formidible one: Ghana. Remember... Ghana has played in the World Cup. The Ghana National Football team BEAT the USA National Soccer Team in the 2010 World Cup. (Okay, beating America in soccer doesn't say much, but still!)

Zambia is going to need to play a very good game to beat Ghana today (or tomorrow, February 8, depends what time zone you're in.) So please, wear your green, copper, black, and red, or should you so choose to join me, dress like the coach: crisp white button down shirt with jeans. Check what time Zambia is playing on your local or internet listings and watch the game. It is sure to be good! And if they win, they get to play in the final match! (Americans, this would be the "Super Bowl" of the Africa Cup. And sorry, no Madonna being pulled across the field by dozens of muscley men stepping in time.)

Vocabulary:
chipolopolo = bullet
bola (pr "BOW-lah") = football/soccer
ochaya bola (pr "oh-CHAI-ah BOW-la) = football player
Zambia iza wina (pr Zambia "EE-zah WEE-nah") = Zambia is going to win!

And in closing, here's a song to get us pumped up, by one of my favorite Zambian artists, Mozegator:

Ndalama (money)

Happy New Year, Nyanja Word of the Week readers! It has been a whopping month and a half since I've posted anything. What I can say is that the holidays, although blessed and wonderful, were a bit hectic and slightly illness-ridden. Also, I had these wonderful ideas for thought-provoking holiday blog posts, but didn't get around to writing them out in beautiful prose. Anyway, now that I'm back into the daily grind, I hope I can keep bringing Nyanja words and phrases to you, (with out without inspirational stories)!

A lot of exciting news from Zambia this week. The national football (soccer) team has been doing pretty well in the Africa Cup! I'd like to write more about that soon.

Also, it has recently been announced that Zambia will be "rebasing" it's currency by dropping 3 zeros from the Kwacha. At first, to me, this seemed like an aweful idea. I like the current Zambian money. (50,000 Kwacha, the highest denomination note, is around $10 US) It also seems like a silly thing to be using money and resources for when there are a lot of other ongoing problems being faced in the country. Then I read this article in Zambia Weekly, which outlines some of the pros and cons. Now I'm slightly more on the fence. HOPEFULLY, if this happens, all the PROs will come true and the CONs will be as small as possible.

Nyanja words/phrases:

Ndalama (pron. "nn-dah-LAH-mah") = "money"

Kwacha (pron. "KWAH-chah") = "sunrise" and the name of Zambian currency

Nifuna ndalama. (pron. nee-FOO-nan-dah-LAH-mah) = "I want (or need) money."

Mufuna ndalama? = "You want money?"

Afuna ndalama. = "He/she wants money."

Here are some phrases for when you don't want to buy something or can't give someone money:

Nilibe ndalama (pron. nee-LEE-bain-dah-LAH-mah) = "I don't have any money."

Napya (pron. NAHP-yah) = "I'm broke." (Slang, literally meaning is "I'm burnt.")

Mailo* (pron. MAH-eelow) = "Tomorrow." (This usually works if you don't want to say "no.")

*(Mailo also means "yesterday," but we can talk about that later.)

At least my mini-kwacha key chain will increase in value (if only sentimental value) when the old kwacha notes are discontinued!

Kuwasha (to wash clothes)

Have you ever washed your own clothes by hand? Have you ever washed other people's clothes by hand? Maybe you have, maybe you haven't, but if you're a Zambian woman, you probably have. In Zambia, washing machines are expensive. Electricty is expensive and unreliable, and most people don't have access to it. The same can be said for running water. But who needs a washing machine, anyway! Washing clothes by hand isn't the end of the world! It's part of everyday life.

I learned the local techniques of how "kuchapa" (to wash clothes). My grandmother, who grew up on a farm in the American midwest has also filled me in on the techniques she used. (I'll share some tips at the end.)

Many of you may find the word "kuwasha," which is a synonym for kuchapa, easier to remember. Nyanja by nature is an ever-changing language, borrowing from different languages and evolving its own slang constantly.

Even though I do possess the skill of being able to wash clothes by hand, in Zambia, I liked to take the opportunity to give employment to others by paying them to do my washing. Or, in the case of my younger live-in sister-in-law, convincing her to washa for me. She was way better at it anyway. My whites never got as white and I never wash jeans with as much determination. (Thanks, Misozi! We miss you!)

Here is a Zambian TV ad for hand-washing soap that show's some of the local expertise in chapa-ing.





I am so so SO thankful that we have a washer and dryer in our new apartment in the American midwest! (Back to my roots!) We are very blessed.

That said, as a small family, especially a small family which contains one member who likes to make messes, and is potty training, and uses cloth diapers on a part-time basis, I have actually had the desire to chapa from time to time, not wait for a full load of like-colored laundry to be ready to go into the machine.

Easier said than done! The laundry detergent readily available in the US is only for washing machines, and is harsh on ones hands. Having experienced the wide variety of hand-washing soaps available in Zambia, I recently found American laundry soaps disappointing. In Zambia, we had brands such as Boom, Chik, Bullet, Chapa, Washa, Sunlight, and Omo, that I can come up with on the top of my head. These brands had products ranging from bar soap for clothes, to washing paste to washing powder.

In America, I couldn't find anything like this in the normal grocery stores! Woe was me. Until, who came to the rescue, but noneother than, my local neighborhood... Mexican grocery store!
Behold, Roma! Complete witha beautiful lady washing her clothes in a bucket. And very affordable!

Thanks to Roma, we're back in action, washing the occasional lone stinky cloth diaper or delicate green sweater that shouldn't, for its own sake, go in the washing machine with the white towels. This washing goes on in our secondary bathroom (another blessing).

A little while ago, I had a small kuwasha/kuchapa project soaking in the sink, when I started doing something else in the kitchen. I came back a few minutes later to find Miss Nzinzi Tembo doing some washa-ing herself:



What a helpful girl! And, I'd much rather have her immersed in hand-washing soap than in Tide.

Thanks for reading Nyanja Word of the Week!

Vocabulary:

kuwasha (pronounced "koo WAH shah") = to wash clothes

kuchapa (pronounced "koo CHAH pah") = to wash clothes (synonym)

kuwasha mbale (pronounced "koo-WAH-shah mm-BAH-lay") = to wash dishes

Line from Mathew Tembo song, "Next Year", being said from a wife to her husband, who she is fed up with:
kuwasha washa ni kwako (pronounced "koo-WAH-shah WAH-shah nee KWAH-koh") - washing clothes (all the time) is yours (your job)

ni = is

kwako = yours

("Next Year" and other Mathew Tembo songs can be downloaded from iTunes, Amazon, and other popular downloading sites!)

And last but not least, tips for handwashing:

Tips from Zambian Women:

* Use patience, persistance, and work up your callouses. (I learned this by observation.)

* Always work up a good lather!

* For stains on white cloth diapers (nappies), smear hard-bar washing soap on stains, then hang them up. Once they dry completely, getting the stains out is much easier!

* For stains on jeans, use washing soap with a small scrub brush, like a nail brush.

Tips from my Mother and Grandmother:

* Use REALLY HOT water, and give clothes time to soak.

* Use a washing board!

Ndiyo (main dish)

Americans all over the world and their families and friends have just celebrated the holiday of Thanksgiving, a time for reflecting on the blessings we've been given, often uniting with extended family and friends, and feasting on a LOT OF FOOD.


The Nyanja word for "food" is vakudya. And the Nyanja verb for "to eat" is kudya, so here's a sentence for you to practice: Nikudya vakudya ("I'm eating food").


But today we're talking about ndiyo, or "main dish." In Zambian English, ndiyo is translated as "relish," but "relish" in American English refers more to a condiment than to the real substance of what ndiyo means in Nyanja. Ndiyo can be chicken, beef, goat, or fish, or any of the myriad of amazing green leaves and other vegetables eaten in Zambia, or even insects! Ndiyo is the dish or dishes that are served next to the staple food, nshima (cornmeal paste), or rice.

Here's the story for the day:

In January 2009, Mathew and I took a trip to visit his family in the rural district of Petauke, in the Eastern Province of Zambia. He has a sister living there who is very industrious, farming with her husband, taking care of the household, and raising 4 children. Our accommodations were even more rustic than my time spent in a rural refugee camp. We slept on the floor of a mud-brick thatched-roof house, bathed using a bucket in an outdoor straw structure, and took a walk into nature in order to answer the call of nature, if you know what I mean.

I couldn't really communicate except through translation, because my sister-in-law, and most of Mathew's family there, do not speak English fluently. One day we decided to accompany my sister-in-law and brother-in-law to their fields to do some farming. The men were tilling the ground using cow power:

At first, I just watched, but then I decided to help my sister-in-law do some weeding. Mathew's younger brother, who is in high school, (a level not attained by Mathew's other siblings, giving one stronger knowledge of English and other subjects) was also with us. I asked him, "Should I pull out anything that isn't maize (corn)?" And he said "yes." So that is what I proceeded to do.

(BEWARE TRAVELLERS TO ZAMBIA AND FOREIGNERS RESIDING IN ZAMBIA: sometimes a person will reply with "yes," even though they haven't understood your question. If you're not sure if the person you're talking to is sure, ask follow-up questions! I have fallen into this trap several times.)

I pulled out EVERYTHING that I saw that wasn't corn, including a familiar leaf, chibwabwa, or pumpkin leaves, which are one of the common delicious dishes served in Zambia and completely underutilized in the USA. But, if these pumpkin leaves were getting in the way of the corn, by all means, let's get them out!

Half-an-hour or so later, my sister-in-law must have noticed my handiwork and approached me. "Ni ndiyo," she said. "That's food." Instantly, with my limited Nyanja knowledge, I knew she was telling me that I was pulling out precious "main dish" food, which is hard to come by at times in the village, but I did not have the vocabulary to respond to her or apologize to her. Although she didn't seem angry, I was slightly mortified, having been trying to act all cool, like I fit in with all the cool village subsistence farmers. After she and I collected as much chibwabwa as we could from what I had discarded in piles so that we could eat it for dinner, I sat down and sulked until it was time to go home.

We visited the village again this year, with a one-year-old Nzinzi, who gave me an excuse to hang out with the children, who I was less worried about impressing. That was more fun. Still, I hope next time I go to the village I'll get to participate in farming again - the right way, and hopefully my Nyanja* skills will be better, so I can have better dialogues with my family there!

Enjoy your ndiyo this holiday season!

*By the way, the language spoken in Petauke is actually Nsenga, which is related to Nyanja. I'd like to learn Nsenga, too, one day. But Nyanja is understood by many people all over Zambia, and often used as a common when talking to people from different areas, especially in Eastern Province and Lusaka. Many people in Petauke use Nyanja, instead of Nsenga, to try to communicate with me if they don't know English.