Nizaziwonela – A Story About Heaven as Told by Old Man Mayor

Author’s Note

I can not help my white skin. In a place like Africa it is impossible for me to just blend in and disappear. Because I stand out, everybody looks at me. For some, mostly women and children, it is the kind of silent, questioning, look of wonderment at how this strange-looking man ended up here. But for many, when I walk by, all they see is money – because I am white I must have a lot of it and I am probably willing to part with it. The result is a level of harassment that tests the limits of my patience. One tout can follow me for several city blocks completely ignoring my disinterest in purchasing anything and my pleas to be left in peace, and when he finally gets the picture that I cannot be sold and decides to let me walk on, the next tout immediately swoops in figuring that, where the former failed, he will succeed. Everyone will give me, just me, a special price and every taxi driver wants me to choose them over all the others. Some shouts for my attention are brazen while some are more subtle. Depending on the day, all the attention can slide right off my back and I am friendly about it, and sometimes I can get downright rude with people and hate myself every time that I do – after all, this is their livelihood and how they put food on the table. Every so often, I have my expectations tested as when one individual asked me what I was looking for and I rudely dismissed him though, truthfully, I was a little bit lost. When I humbly asked where a particular café, where I was supposed to be meeting someone, was located, he pointed me right to it with the reminder: “Hey, brother, not everybody wants something from you”.

It was while I was visiting Livingstone that, when Old Man Mayor started yelling at me, my first instinct was just to ignore him. Old Man Mayor looked old – real old. He had a walking stick and spent his day mostly sitting by the main road. It was his age that made me stop for a second because old people do not usually try to get your attention as they are past the age where they need to try to sell anything. He also was not speaking English. Most touts will speak at least a little English rightly figuring that white people won’t speak the local languages. I tried to ask the old man if he spoke English but I was not getting through to him. My exchange with Old Man Mayor drew the attention of a few passersby and I asked one, a man about my age named Douglas, “Do you know what he’s saying?”

“I understand only a bit, but he says you look like Hanki.”

“Who’s Hanki?” I asked.

He asked Old Man Mayor who Hanki was and said, “He says it’s the long beard that makes you look like Hanki. The story of Nizaziwonela and Hanki is a story that they share in his village. He says it’s a story about heaven.”

To hear a story in native words and told through an interpreter is a unique but taxing experience. I’ve done my best to retell the story as I heard it, as I understood it, and as it might sound, in English, coming from the lips of Old Man Mayor the storyteller.

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Nizaziwonela

“A long time ago a man came to the village. A white man. He was tall and thin with straight black hair. He lived in Livingstone where he worked but he came many times to the village sometimes staying many months and it was whispered that he had taken a fancy to one of the young Lozi girls. Hanki stayed in Africa many years, over which time he grew a long beard and everyone in the village recognized him and when he passed through they would say, ‘There goes Hanki’.

“One day Hanki came to the village with a child. It was quite a sight because he even wore the chitenge[i]. The child was sick and the rumours were that she was unwanted. Some whispered that the story of her mother was a tragic one. It was said that when Nizaziwonela was born she cried so many tears that the rains came and the Zambezi overflowed[ii]. But Hanki took the child and loved her, and cared for her, and he swore that he would never lie to her. One day, Nizaziwonela and Hanki disappeared from the village and the villagers made up stories of what happened to them. Nizaziwonela was a child of the Zambezi raised on Hanki’s back, and travelled wherever he travelled – from Livingstone to the village, to the far corners of Africa, and all over the world. They had a special bond and all the village could see that, though she was not his child, he loved her and protected her as though she was from him. Nizaziwonela was just a little girl, and still sick when Hanki took her from the village, and Hanki never returned.

“And so the story goes that Nizaziwonela grew up in a world so unlike the world of the Zambezi. In the village, Hanki looked strange, but in Hanki’s world, it was Nizaziwonela who looked like she did not belong.

“One day, when she was old enough to speak, she asked Hanki: ‘Why don’t we look the same?’

“And Hanki knew that it was time to have a hard talk[iii], but he swore that he would never lie to the child. He said: ‘You and I come from different worlds. You are a child of the Zambezi and where you come from all of the people have skin just like your skin. Do not ever forget where you come from and know that, though I am not your father, you will always be my child and I will never lie to you.’ And Hanki cradled her in his arms as she cried so many tears that the rains came and the Zambezi overflowed again.

“One day, when Nizaziwonela was a little bit older she looked at the other children and always there were two with them, a boy and a girl. And so she asked Hanki: ‘Where is mommy?’

“And Hanki knew that it was time to have a hard talk, but he swore that he would never lie to the child. He said: ‘Your mommy and daddy, the people that made you, never left the Zambezi where you came from. They are both lost and you will never find them. I am sorry, my child. But remember, it is only foolish people who believe that it takes two to do the work where one is enough. You will always be my child and I will never lie to you.’ And Hanki cradled her in his arms as she cried so many tears that the rains came and the Zambezi overflowed again.

“Nizaziwonela was growing up and becoming a woman. One day she asked Hanki: ‘Will I ever fall in love?’

“And Hanki knew that it was time to have a hard talk, but he swore that he would never lie to the child. He said: ‘You will have strong feelings for many people in your life that you will confuse with love because those strong feelings will stir emotions in you that you are not used to feeling and you will say, I must be in love. The truth is, real love only exists when we help others because for real love we do not fall, but instead we rise.’ And Hanki cradled her in his arms as she cried so many tears that the rains came and the Zambezi overflowed again.

“Nizaziwonela became a woman. She was a child of the Zambezi in Hanki’s world and eventually, his world became hers, and Hanki grew old and sick. One day she asked Hanki: ‘Why are you sick?’

“And Hanki knew that it was time to have a hard talk, but he swore that he would never lie to the child. He said: ‘When you were young you were also sick and I took you and I made you well. But it was because you were young that you could be made well. I am old and when you become old there is no returning from the sickness. Eventually, we all die.’ And she cradled Hanki in her arms as she cried so many tears that the rains came and the Zambezi overflowed again.

“Nizaziwonela watched as Hanki was dying and she was afraid. She asked Hanki: ‘What will happen to you if you die?’

“And Hanki knew that it was time to have a hard talk, but he swore that he would never lie to the child. He said: ‘I will surrender my body to the Earth from where it came. My spirit, I trust, will ascend to heaven. I have lived my life with love – love above all things. Remember, when love is real, we rise.’ And she cradled Hanki in her arms as she cried so many tears that the rains came and the Zambezi overflowed again.

“Nizaziwonela was frightened in the final days before Hanki would pass away. She said: ‘I am so frightened. Before you go, tell me everything I need to know.’

“And Hanki knew that it was time to have a hard talk, but he swore that he would never lie to the child. He said: ‘You are a child of the Zambezi. I love you. And you will always be my child. That is all anyone needs to know.’ And she cradled Hanki in her arms as she cried so many tears that the rains came and the Zambezi overflowed again.

“And so Hanki died and his spirit left his body and his body returned to the Earth. And it was many years ago, I don’t know when exactly, but Nizaziwonela returned to the village repeating the words that Hanki had spoken to her all the years of her life, that she was a child of the Zambezi. She came and she told her story to all of the children of the village, and each time she told her story she cried so many tears that the rains came and the Zambezi overflowed again. When Nizaziwonela returned there was so much rain that the maize grew in stalks so much higher than the villagers had ever seen – twice the height of a man. She built a school and brought reading and writing so that children could leave the village and earn wages from Lozi villages to Lusaka and as far as the Copper Belt.

“And, so the story goes, after Nizaziwonela had left the village and lived her life, her spirit also left her body and her body returned to the Earth. And looking down upon the village she felt Hanki standing next to her and she was filled with joy and happiness. And she asked Hanki: ‘Is this heaven?’

“And Hanki knew that it was time to have a hard talk, but he swore that he would never lie to the child. He said: ‘No, my child, this is not heaven. Heaven has been watching you all these years live your life with love – love above all things – in a way so real and pure as to rise to this place. And they held each other in their arms and cried so many tears together that the rains came and the Zambezi overflowed again.

[i] Chitenge is the term, used by almost all of the tribes of Southern Africa, for the cloth wrap that women wear around their backs to carry their children. The chitenge also represents a rite of passage that all girls receive when they reach womanhood.

[ii] Seasonal rains in Africa do not convey any of the doom and gloom like a rainy day in Europe or North America. Rains in Africa are joyous as they mark the end of the dry season and bring life to the fertile soil that helps the crops grow and that feed the people.

[iii] ‘Hard talk’ was the term that Douglas used (the italics are mine), which I imagine is an imperfect translation going through several non-native English speakers. You could tell from the look on his face whenever he used the term that what was about to ensue between Hanki and Nizaziwonela was the kind of uncomfortable conversation that people do not like to have. In this case, ‘grave’ or ‘uncomfortable’ might be more accurate, but for the sake of the story, I have kept his words.