ROBBED BLIND

Safety first.

When you’re new in a city and culture, it is easy to be distracted by bright shiny objects and miss the deep dark underbelly of society. We all take safety seriously, and it is top of mind to avoid sketchy situations. Lusaka, generally, is quite safe. Sure, there’s the odd pick-pocketer along Cairo road and City market, and it’s probably not safe to wander the streets after 2000 hours, but generally, it’s pretty safe here.

A few weeks back, I discovered that I might actually have a bit more freedom than other volunteers. You see, I discovered, since my looks shout Chinese, there is an automatic conclusion that in fact, I am from China and further more, I know kung fu.

My initial reaction when I first heard this stereotype was oh god, not this again.

You see, growing up in white rural, southern Ontario, I didn’t like the fact that I was ‘Chinese’, hated how people judged me because I looked different, and cringed when people would make assumptions like how I must know karate. Although I always got the last laugh watching people behave like fools as they showed off kung fu nonsense, deep down, I would resent how I would be stereotyped into a culture that I knew very little about. Unbeknownst to me a decade or so later, and half way around the world, I would be revisiting these scars of childhood.

At least things change, with age comes wisdom and I have since come to discover that as much as I dreaded that stereotype, there is actually some silver lining in it.

Globalization in all of its power, has opened the doors of Zambia to massive foreign investment by the Chinese who, like the rest of the world, has particular interest in Africa’s wealth of natural resources ( interestingly, China just handed Zambia $39M support package to purchase agric equipment…sigh). But I’m not in the mood to debate the positives and negatives of FDI in this post. Instead, I wanted to focus on the brighter side of the liberalization of markets, which brings with it what? None other than the influx of Chinese pirated DVDs of course! Of particular interest are the ones that feature kung fu superstars like Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee. HAIYA!

Thanks to this cultural invasion (or is it…revolution?), people not only believe I know kung fu, they also believe that I can kick anyone’s ass. Now, this is of course TRUE, but the point of the story isn’t the fact that I really CAN, but that there is an automatic association between the Chinese and getting your ass kicked and so people naturally fear messing with me.

The first time I discovered this, I was sitting around chatting with a few friends. Out of the blue, Max, who actually reminds me of Eddie Murphy asks me,

“Tell me Ka-Hay, you know kung fu right?”

“Ahh……sure?” ( It’s a half truth... one of my ancestors probably knew kung fu)

“Ah, see! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah (squeal of amazement as one realizes the truth).

Tell me, you have been training since you were this small yes? (holds his hand out to indicate the height of my little 1 ½ year old nephew)’

Ahhhhh…..(can’t answer through my tears of laughter)

“Tell me also, have you seen Jackie Chan with your naked eyes?”

Jackie Chan is worshipped here. Seriously, anyone know his agent? Get him on the next plane to Lusaka and he will be mobbed by rabid fans. Ok, maybe not mobbed but certainly worshipped…from afar…far out of the reach of his hands an feet.

Through fits of laughter, Max tells me about how this belief came to be. The legend here in the town of Monze (but surely, you can replace it with any other Zambian town or city.) goes something like this:

“You see, there was this chap in Monze – my friend Laurence's cousin—who was one of the best boxers in town. He trained all the time and no one could beat him no matter how hard they tried. This guy was GOOD, tough!”

Max emphasizes the last point with a flex of his bicep

“One night, he came across a little Chinese man just on that road over there (point in the appropriate direction) and one thing led to another and they had a quarrel. And then the little Chinese man, who looked like only a small boy, beat HIM! UGLY! UGLY!

I AM TELLING you! UUUUGGGGGLY!Aaaaaaaaaaaaah (squeal of delight).

And so, we don’t mess with you people. You guys, you can walk around the market at 2300 hours and you will be safe.”

“So, do most people here think that all Chinese people know kung fu?”

“No, uh ahn, not most people.

ALL people, ONE HUNDRED PERCENT. EVERYONE knows that the Chinese know kung fu.

And you people, you don’t have bones. You can be beaten and nothing, no bleeding, nothing. But us, aaaaaaaaah, we will be beaten UG-LeY.”

So, I’ve tested the scope of this belief; from Mkushi to Choma, to Lusaka and it is true, no one wants to mess with me for fear of being beaten ugly. And so I can be one of the few volunteers who can wander around until about 2300hrs, by myself, and maybe even with a few million kwacha hanging out of my pockets, gold chains around my neck, swinging strings of diamonds around and wearing a sign that says ‘Rob me, please…I beg you’, and I would still be safe.

I am conscious of the many privileges and stereotypes I bring and do actively try to break as many of them as possible; But you know, this one, this is one that I have consciously decided to let run wild.

I do have to mention however, as with all good things, there is an exception, and I learned about it on Easter weekend a little while back. What is it? Well… its that the Chinese association only works if you’re awake.

As I mentioned in a previous post, the southern Africa EWB volunteers got together in Malawi for our quarterly meeting over the Easter weekend. After putting all of the trial and tribulations of the travels to Malawi (see demonstracion del gongo post) behind us, we got to work and put our heads together to chat about our placements our work, our organizations, and opportunities to have more impact and other such things. All of this was done at Senga Bay campgrounds ( would suggest anyone who is traveling in that neck of the woods to check it out) which is a gorgeous place right on the coast of Lake Malawi. In between our work sessions, we were able to have campfires on the beach, jump in the lake to cool off when the sun got too hot, and just enjoyed being surrounded by scenery and nature around us.

One evening, some us of decided to sleep out on the beach. Just picture this, it was a brilliant; the stars were out, the air warm, and the sand soft. I laid down my chitenge (African cloth) to sleep on, rolled out my sleeping bag and to protect myself against my own carelessness (high risk factor), I put my glasses in its case and put the case beside my head.

OOOOHHHH, it was a glorious slumber; warm breeze, sand moulded bed, moonlit and star scattered sky, waves crashing against the shore. In the morning I woke with the rising of the sun and looked out across the waters of the lake. I thought about how perfect it was and how lucky I was to have been able to experience such a lovely sleep.

And then reality set in.

It turns out, during the night, some guy had walked by our group and made like it was Boxing Day. He did some five finger discount shopping acquiring a cell phone from my friend Trevor, a head lamp from my friend Danny, and from me, from little innocent ol’ me, from beside my big fat head, a pair of glasses.

That’s right MY GLASSES! Gone! You know, I always thought it was just a figure of speech, but that night I was literally robbed blind.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Maybe it was because my face was buried in my sleeping bag that this unbelievable event happened. Surely, had he seen the Chinese features I had inherited from my parents, he would have thought twice about taking what was not his because I would have, most definitely, beaten him UGLY.

We looked for my specs on the beach. (ok, alright. My friends looked, I blindly tagged along like a drunken fool trying not to fall into piles of garbage or bump into kids). Nothing.

We talked to the kind staff at the campgrounds who suggested our first action should be to report it to the police. (Hahaha, Oh stop, it hurts.)

I even offered a bounty of $100 USD for anyone who could bring back my glasses in one piece, no questions asked. (Vision after all is priceless). Nothing.

So, as you read this, somewhere in Malawi some poor soul is trying to pawn off my pair of coke bottle glasses. What’s sad is that he even doesn’t realise that he’s never going to get any money for them because they’re strong enough to make anyone nauseous, dangerous enough to blind someone for life and powerful enough to knock anyone out cold the instant they put them on.

In the meantime, if you’re eager and passing through Malawi anytime soon, the bounty is still on. Just send me the goods in a brown unmarked envelope and if all is intact, I’ll send you the cash.

And as for me, well, I’ve kicked my kung fu training up a notch. I’ve trained myself to sleep with my face uncovered, well exposed and visible at all times. Oh, and to remedy my temporary blindness, I’ve taken to using my spare pair of glasses…