Midway through a 400-kilometer journey from Lusaka, the calm capital of Zambia, and Livingstone, a well-known city replete with natural protectorate parks along the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe, I found myself struck by a miniature existential crisis. The day had been spent wonderfully, with me sampling shoka nyama (grilled street meat) and bananas right from the streets, and pestering two officers from the Zambia Tourism Agency, Agatha and Martha, with a plethora of questions akin to a 5-year-old. The weather in Zambia was perfect, a crisp 20 degrees that strongly contrasted with Egypt’s summer heat, and the company I was keeping was jovial. How is it then, that I had been struck with one of my bouts, while I was 6,764.6 km kilometers away from home? Even in the southern African country, I had found myself seeing my friends’ Instagram stories. Some were getting married, others were having their first child, and some were absolutely killing it at their jobs or have had the most wonderful, picture-perfect summer adventures. The endless, joy-killing scrolling had left a bitter taste in my mouth and left me wondering, as many of my…
Unveiling Zambia’s Cultural Tapestry: Lessons on Diversity and Acceptance
November 1, 2023
