Expats Beware: Zambia-Part 1
The first in a series of misadventures around Africa
The following is the start of a strange story of one of my ventures into expat territory in Africa. If this prologue gains any traction I will add the other chapters. So, here we go:
You may have trouble believing that this is a true story.
All the events detailed here actually happened to me and my nearest and dearest. Because the events veer between the tragic and the horrific I have endeavoured to insert a little humour here and there so as not to depress you completely. Fortunately, the healing power of the passage of time has enabled me to do this.
I have not embellished, exaggerated or even made use of a little poetic license.
As you will see, I really didn’t need to. Only the names of the incredibly stupid and otherwise mentally and morally challenged have been changed in order to help them avoid any further embarrassment and, I guess, to help me avoid any potential lawsuits.
And so it came to pass.
Having provided over thirty years of dedicated, loyal and dutiful service to my employer and having been assured by our senior management week after week during the previous six weeks that all our jobs were secure I discovered one fateful Monday morning, that I, along with seven others, was on a “list.”
Not an awards list. Not a shopping list. Not even a duty list.
But a list of job positions that were to be made redundant. My cardinal sin? I held one of the posts on the “list.”
Now, nothing quite focuses the mind as the receipt of this kind of news. With a wife and three kids at home, two of them at university and one still at high school (my kids, that is), you can imagine that the shock was not a pleasant one. And puzzling too, as I had turned flying under the radar into something of an art form over the years (not all that difficult of course when one is only five foot six).
However, I digress. I tend to do that. Be that as it may, this story is about how we overcame this serious hurdle in our lives by, ironically, placing many other incredibly tougher hurdles in our own way and then ending up….
But now I am getting ahead of myself. I will try not to do that.
Back to the “list.”
Because now, as you can well imagine, I am in a spot of bother. A state even. Panic is a word that springs easily to mind. Thoughts of tall buildings, sharp razor blades and handfuls of little white pills jostle for space amongst the other pulp and mash inside my quivering brain.
You see, I am male, fifty years old, extremely white and proudly South African. Get the picture?
Yup, I was about as readily re-employable as a car guard with a disability. Or perhaps that should be a car guard without a disability?
Well, somehow, I managed to burgle a one year contract at a mine in Namibia and just before that contract expired I got “the call.” A head-hunter had found details of my illustrious career on a web site and I was looking at the opportunity of a job in Zambia.
And that’s essentially where this story really starts.
I attend an interview in Johannesburg and the next thing I am being offered the position.
With perks!
A generous dollar-based package. With a very handy upset allowance. Travel and removal expenses paid, and off to a new, exciting and exotic land. It just seemed too good to be true! I mean, as they say in the classics, what could possibly go wrong?
And who the hell are “they” in the first place?
So, preparations for the big move.
After taking note of the advice received from the CFO at my interview and the HR Director in Zambia as well as the erstwhile and totally reliable (more of that later) Automobile Association of SA we, like the Mechanical visitors from Mars, made our plans.
We sorted out our passports, arranged plenty of US Dollars (as advised), packed my Mazda 3 (eminently suitable for the area, as advised) to the hilt, handed over copious amounts of money to the kids, kissed the dogs goodbye and hit the road.
Just me and the long-suffering one, off on another great adventure!
At this point I think I need to tell you a few things about the long-suffering one, as she has a very pivotal role in this saga. First off, let me say that I am blessed with probably the best partner that a man could ever wish for. Vonnie is strong and decisive and has supported and often guided me through some very tough times in our lives. A hard-working and absolutely dedicated mother, she has had no small role in the raising of our three wonderful children.
My career in the mining industry has necessitated our moving house more times than we can remember, and she has stoically put up with it every time, often at the expense of her own career.
Not only that, but, how lucky can a man get, she is great looking and very nicely put together.
At the time of these events we had been married for twenty-six years. In a nutshell, I am a very lucky man.
Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, the call of the open road….
If I get a few reads and maybe some claps and comments, I will happily republish Part 2, where it starts to get real. Real bad!
The story continues here:
