Have you ever imagined the saying “East or West Home is the Best” being challenged? What does it really mean? Have you ever wished to experience a totally different culture from your own? Well, try staying in a different country.
When the day finally came for me to relocate to Zambia for my exchange programme sponsored by Fredskorpset, the excitement in me could not just cool down. At one moment, if felt like vibrating so that everyone around could have a taste of the same.
The programme runs for a whole year i.e. 10 months in the host country, one month- the last two weeks for the preparatory course while the last month is used to transfer skills at home organizations. Different organizations exchange their staffs that are attached to different countries in the same capacity.
Word went round and everyone wanted to be told of the details. One question that stood out was “what about the children and has your husband approved of this?” I answered until I felt like chasing them away because they were making me loose focus.
When I was just about to leave the house for the airport, I realized one document was missing; the yellow fever card. The previous day I had gone round showing people the requirements to travel to another country. I remembered I had left it at my Auntie’s office.
I had to look for a way of getting it and since I could not travel without it following the insistence that its one of the requirements otherwise one may be denied entry, one thing ringed in my mind; postponing my journey. But how was I going to do this without incurring charges? Armed with my good journalistic skills and some public relations, I called the airline and lucky enough, I found one staff we had interacted in a past event.
I quickly collected the card, sent communication to my home organization, Association of Media Women in Kenya (AMWIK) who in turn forwarded the same to the host Zambia Media Women Association (ZAMWA). Unfortunately by the time they received it, they had already dispatched someone at the airport to meet me. He was quickly called back
Time to say last goodbye to my family came and off I went. We had been informed that the flight would take approximately two hours. So much was going on in my mind. The plane was not full and I was lucky to occupy all the three seats. I tried sleeping in vain. Apparently, this particular flight was so cold and I was even shivering: Anyway it was just the fear of meeting new people, the kind of food and accommodation I would have. I had gone through the usual training of culture shock but then still inside me something was not at peace.
We landed safely at the Lusaka airport and the first thing I did was to check on the time. Shock! It was way past midnight. But those people had told us that the journey would take approximately two hours, why is that we are arriving at midnight instead of 23 hours? Why did they have to lie?
By the time I was getting off the plane, everybody else was rushing towards the clearance desk. Confused and alone, I followed them. I was served last and since I dint know which document was required as I was going to stay for a longer time, I produced everything including the card, the agreement and the doctor’s report just to prove I was medically fit to stay in Zambia.
Everybody had already picked their luggage except mine. Can you imagine those ladies brought it me! I was so shocked, something I have never seen in any other countries I have traveled to, including my own.
The man behind the clearance desk just told me he would give me a visa for one month and that I should organize with my host organization to get another. This was surprising because back in my home country you would be required to go through a vigorous process and if you don’t qualify, you may be turned back for proper documentation.
I met my host who received me so well, like we had known each other for quite some time yet we only met at the preparatory course. I bet they had waited for long and was quick to pass my apology.
I inquired about the time and that’s when I learnt Kenya was ahead by an hour. I felt so guilty for condemning the Kenya Airways staff but then it was too late for an apology.
The drive from the airport to the house was longer than my expectations. The house was on the fourth floor and I imagined whether I had some energy left to go up. Well I managed. I dint find my colleague from Uganda who I was informed was yet to arrive. You could guess right the feeling in my heart. The house was too big and spending a night alone is like being left in a bush with hungry lions. After being sure I had locked all the doors, I was dead asleep.
The following morning, I woke up after my good alarm rang at 07 hours. I took a shower and quickly got ready as my pick up time was 08.30 hours. When no one was forthcoming by then, I wondered what was keeping them. I switched on the radio and you will not believe what I heard; it was 07.40 hours. I asked myself whether there was something wrong with my watch, then I remembered I had not set it as per the time here. It was too late to go back to bed.
I was introduced to Susan, the administrator who took me to have breakfast at the Harrets bakery. Well, I really waited for this time. She was so nice and we had along chat. I must admit these Zambians are so welcoming that one would think you are one of them.
One thing I was fast to check on was their street lighting. It’s so organized that the cars need not be stopped by police. They are orderly and know what to do. Well, thumbs to their city council.
We headed to the office for an introduction, can you believe I was able to pick a few words like muli bwanji (how are you), bwino (am fine) zikomo (thank you) and many more. That was so first, of course I congratulated myself but most, to the people who were able to flow with me. I got some cash. Susan, now my turned tour guide took me to a forex bureau. She advised me not to change much saying “ this money gets finished very fast so you better have most of it in dollars and just change whenever you require some cash,” That was really helpful I must say.
The rate was crazy; 1 dollar at 4,680 kwacha! In Kenya it went at Ksh. 75. There we go; I had started making comparisons of the two different cultures. That was nothing until we went for shopping.
The only two things I was able to recognize at the supermarket were Royco and Omo which are manufactured by the local companies in Kenya. The rest appeared to me like some strange items that I hardly identified. The worst was the prices, I laughed. At least my tour guide was able to assist in counting the money otherwise the lady at the counter would have had fun laughing at me.
Our next stop was the market. I asked for the banana prices. The seller mentioned something like 1 pin. I assumed I dint hear properly and requested him to repeat the price because as far as am concerned, the local currency was referred to as kwacha, what was he trying to say? Again my tour guide saved the day. She explained that it’s one thousand which is locally known as one pin. I later came to learn the history behind the pin. They used to pin (put together in bundles) the smaller currencies together to make one thousand so it was derived from that. I wondered why it was that expensive but then realized this was a different currency. Back home, we bought three bananas at ksh. 15. Here it is one thousand. Culture comparison once again.
I started the conversion and for every item we would buy, I had to convert and see whether the amount was the same or if it was on the higher side. I was surprised to see they have a 50,000 note while in Kenya, the highest denomination is 1,000. Well it started sinking that this was a totally different culture. Susan had to help me identify the different notes.
Before we went back to office, I bought a line and talk time since I needed to inform people back home that I had arrived. Another shock, airtime is worth from 5,000! In Kenya I would buy airtime for as little as Ksh. 20 and be able to talk. Well, we bought and I loaded. Until now am still not able to tell how much they charge per minute. Its all strange figures.
Back in the house (I had been advised to go early and take a rest), I found a good Samaritan under the instruction of Auntie Imelda, she had cleaned the house! I thought that was so nice. “These people are really nice” I just felt like am home again. I made dinner and after having it, I slept.
The third and fourth day were for familiarization and I really felt home. I said to myself, ‘wait until you are away from home and see whether you don’t get the home feeling.” Something I had to frequently practice is the use of the currency, am better today.
I met the programme officer at Zamwa on 19th, Sally Chiwama, who welcomed me. We interacted well and updated each other since we had met back in Kenya while she was on an exchange programme at Amwik.
One thing I must admit at Zamwa is that they are very welcoming and helpful. They have assisted me in settling and getting acquainted with so many things. Brenda Zulu, their ICT consultant has also helped me set up my own web page and get access to other communication tools.
My colleague from Uganda, Sarah arrived on Friday night. You will not believe it but I was her turned tour guide.
It has taken me little time to start getting adapted to the different culture. People are so friendly here and very respectful. You buy an item; someone almost kneels to give it to you and your change back after paying. That’s unheard of in Kenya. I am so glad that I got this opportunity and am sure there is so much to learn, not only at Zamwa but in Zambia. We share a common goal, to see the advancement of women, not only in Kenya and Zambia but Africa at large and the whole world.
This exchange of ideas and Programmes is very important because what you think is not proper culture, may be working for a different community.
One thing I have learnt from these culture shock experiences as I continue to adapt, that there are so many challenges living in a different set up and withdrawal may be hurting. The best thing is to try and accept that I am in a different culture, be patient and try to understand that this is their own way of doing things. It will be much easier for me if I recognize that there is no bad, good or neutral culture; all culture is just different and its worth learning it, because it may just be an eye opener of great things to come, I have seen it.
My first assignment as we wait to get clearance from the immigration and get press cards is to represent the Programmes Officer at the World Press Freedom Day (WPFD) Committee meeting at the Press Association of Zambia (PAZA) offices. I have no idea of what to say there but since I am a journalist and aware of what’s happening to this profession worldwide, I have a rough idea and know that the struggle is related all over. This will be followed up by a meeting for the Media Liaison Committee to try and revive the Media Council of Zambia just before the celebrations of WPFD starts.
We are also gearing up for the International Women’s Day which comes up in March.
One thing I have learnt from Zambians is that they are never hasty with life. In Kenya we are used to doing things faster, including walking that you may be knocked down on the streets if you are sluggish. I will need to get used to this life but trust me, when I get back I will have to switch back to the fast life.
When the day finally came for me to relocate to Zambia for my exchange programme sponsored by Fredskorpset, the excitement in me could not just cool down. At one moment, if felt like vibrating so that everyone around could have a taste of the same.
The programme runs for a whole year i.e. 10 months in the host country, one month- the last two weeks for the preparatory course while the last month is used to transfer skills at home organizations. Different organizations exchange their staffs that are attached to different countries in the same capacity.
Word went round and everyone wanted to be told of the details. One question that stood out was “what about the children and has your husband approved of this?” I answered until I felt like chasing them away because they were making me loose focus.
When I was just about to leave the house for the airport, I realized one document was missing; the yellow fever card. The previous day I had gone round showing people the requirements to travel to another country. I remembered I had left it at my Auntie’s office.
I had to look for a way of getting it and since I could not travel without it following the insistence that its one of the requirements otherwise one may be denied entry, one thing ringed in my mind; postponing my journey. But how was I going to do this without incurring charges? Armed with my good journalistic skills and some public relations, I called the airline and lucky enough, I found one staff we had interacted in a past event.
I quickly collected the card, sent communication to my home organization, Association of Media Women in Kenya (AMWIK) who in turn forwarded the same to the host Zambia Media Women Association (ZAMWA). Unfortunately by the time they received it, they had already dispatched someone at the airport to meet me. He was quickly called back
Time to say last goodbye to my family came and off I went. We had been informed that the flight would take approximately two hours. So much was going on in my mind. The plane was not full and I was lucky to occupy all the three seats. I tried sleeping in vain. Apparently, this particular flight was so cold and I was even shivering: Anyway it was just the fear of meeting new people, the kind of food and accommodation I would have. I had gone through the usual training of culture shock but then still inside me something was not at peace.
We landed safely at the Lusaka airport and the first thing I did was to check on the time. Shock! It was way past midnight. But those people had told us that the journey would take approximately two hours, why is that we are arriving at midnight instead of 23 hours? Why did they have to lie?
By the time I was getting off the plane, everybody else was rushing towards the clearance desk. Confused and alone, I followed them. I was served last and since I dint know which document was required as I was going to stay for a longer time, I produced everything including the card, the agreement and the doctor’s report just to prove I was medically fit to stay in Zambia.
Everybody had already picked their luggage except mine. Can you imagine those ladies brought it me! I was so shocked, something I have never seen in any other countries I have traveled to, including my own.
The man behind the clearance desk just told me he would give me a visa for one month and that I should organize with my host organization to get another. This was surprising because back in my home country you would be required to go through a vigorous process and if you don’t qualify, you may be turned back for proper documentation.
I met my host who received me so well, like we had known each other for quite some time yet we only met at the preparatory course. I bet they had waited for long and was quick to pass my apology.
I inquired about the time and that’s when I learnt Kenya was ahead by an hour. I felt so guilty for condemning the Kenya Airways staff but then it was too late for an apology.
The drive from the airport to the house was longer than my expectations. The house was on the fourth floor and I imagined whether I had some energy left to go up. Well I managed. I dint find my colleague from Uganda who I was informed was yet to arrive. You could guess right the feeling in my heart. The house was too big and spending a night alone is like being left in a bush with hungry lions. After being sure I had locked all the doors, I was dead asleep.
The following morning, I woke up after my good alarm rang at 07 hours. I took a shower and quickly got ready as my pick up time was 08.30 hours. When no one was forthcoming by then, I wondered what was keeping them. I switched on the radio and you will not believe what I heard; it was 07.40 hours. I asked myself whether there was something wrong with my watch, then I remembered I had not set it as per the time here. It was too late to go back to bed.
I was introduced to Susan, the administrator who took me to have breakfast at the Harrets bakery. Well, I really waited for this time. She was so nice and we had along chat. I must admit these Zambians are so welcoming that one would think you are one of them.
One thing I was fast to check on was their street lighting. It’s so organized that the cars need not be stopped by police. They are orderly and know what to do. Well, thumbs to their city council.
We headed to the office for an introduction, can you believe I was able to pick a few words like muli bwanji (how are you), bwino (am fine) zikomo (thank you) and many more. That was so first, of course I congratulated myself but most, to the people who were able to flow with me. I got some cash. Susan, now my turned tour guide took me to a forex bureau. She advised me not to change much saying “ this money gets finished very fast so you better have most of it in dollars and just change whenever you require some cash,” That was really helpful I must say.
The rate was crazy; 1 dollar at 4,680 kwacha! In Kenya it went at Ksh. 75. There we go; I had started making comparisons of the two different cultures. That was nothing until we went for shopping.
The only two things I was able to recognize at the supermarket were Royco and Omo which are manufactured by the local companies in Kenya. The rest appeared to me like some strange items that I hardly identified. The worst was the prices, I laughed. At least my tour guide was able to assist in counting the money otherwise the lady at the counter would have had fun laughing at me.
Our next stop was the market. I asked for the banana prices. The seller mentioned something like 1 pin. I assumed I dint hear properly and requested him to repeat the price because as far as am concerned, the local currency was referred to as kwacha, what was he trying to say? Again my tour guide saved the day. She explained that it’s one thousand which is locally known as one pin. I later came to learn the history behind the pin. They used to pin (put together in bundles) the smaller currencies together to make one thousand so it was derived from that. I wondered why it was that expensive but then realized this was a different currency. Back home, we bought three bananas at ksh. 15. Here it is one thousand. Culture comparison once again.
I started the conversion and for every item we would buy, I had to convert and see whether the amount was the same or if it was on the higher side. I was surprised to see they have a 50,000 note while in Kenya, the highest denomination is 1,000. Well it started sinking that this was a totally different culture. Susan had to help me identify the different notes.
Before we went back to office, I bought a line and talk time since I needed to inform people back home that I had arrived. Another shock, airtime is worth from 5,000! In Kenya I would buy airtime for as little as Ksh. 20 and be able to talk. Well, we bought and I loaded. Until now am still not able to tell how much they charge per minute. Its all strange figures.
Back in the house (I had been advised to go early and take a rest), I found a good Samaritan under the instruction of Auntie Imelda, she had cleaned the house! I thought that was so nice. “These people are really nice” I just felt like am home again. I made dinner and after having it, I slept.
The third and fourth day were for familiarization and I really felt home. I said to myself, ‘wait until you are away from home and see whether you don’t get the home feeling.” Something I had to frequently practice is the use of the currency, am better today.
I met the programme officer at Zamwa on 19th, Sally Chiwama, who welcomed me. We interacted well and updated each other since we had met back in Kenya while she was on an exchange programme at Amwik.
One thing I must admit at Zamwa is that they are very welcoming and helpful. They have assisted me in settling and getting acquainted with so many things. Brenda Zulu, their ICT consultant has also helped me set up my own web page and get access to other communication tools.
My colleague from Uganda, Sarah arrived on Friday night. You will not believe it but I was her turned tour guide.
It has taken me little time to start getting adapted to the different culture. People are so friendly here and very respectful. You buy an item; someone almost kneels to give it to you and your change back after paying. That’s unheard of in Kenya. I am so glad that I got this opportunity and am sure there is so much to learn, not only at Zamwa but in Zambia. We share a common goal, to see the advancement of women, not only in Kenya and Zambia but Africa at large and the whole world.
This exchange of ideas and Programmes is very important because what you think is not proper culture, may be working for a different community.
One thing I have learnt from these culture shock experiences as I continue to adapt, that there are so many challenges living in a different set up and withdrawal may be hurting. The best thing is to try and accept that I am in a different culture, be patient and try to understand that this is their own way of doing things. It will be much easier for me if I recognize that there is no bad, good or neutral culture; all culture is just different and its worth learning it, because it may just be an eye opener of great things to come, I have seen it.
My first assignment as we wait to get clearance from the immigration and get press cards is to represent the Programmes Officer at the World Press Freedom Day (WPFD) Committee meeting at the Press Association of Zambia (PAZA) offices. I have no idea of what to say there but since I am a journalist and aware of what’s happening to this profession worldwide, I have a rough idea and know that the struggle is related all over. This will be followed up by a meeting for the Media Liaison Committee to try and revive the Media Council of Zambia just before the celebrations of WPFD starts.
We are also gearing up for the International Women’s Day which comes up in March.
One thing I have learnt from Zambians is that they are never hasty with life. In Kenya we are used to doing things faster, including walking that you may be knocked down on the streets if you are sluggish. I will need to get used to this life but trust me, when I get back I will have to switch back to the fast life.
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