A familiar rhythm fills the room as my barber tilts my head to get a better angle as he shaves against the grain. He starts to sing along out loud, to my surprise. The song is ‘Baby Riddim’, a popular afrobeats song by Nigerian artist Fave SZN.
At a time when I have been contemplating the role my nationality and “otherness” has played in the progression of my career, here was a moment that gave me reason to pause. It felt like we were two people from different backgrounds, with nothing in common except the chair that I occupied at this moment. Yet while he was singing the lyrics to the song, loud and slightly off-key, I was whispering the words beneath my breath, enjoying it just as much he was.
This speaks to the power of music & the arts. To their ability to transcend borders and tribe. The essence of the track carried us, reminded me that we were all human after all. Our similarities far outweigh our differences. And the things that make us unique only add to our shared experience of the journey of life. I wish I could carry this moment out of this instance of time and into the halls of cabinet. But for now, we sing along.
T.
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I have a friend I’ve lived with for a long time. Our lives have had similar circumstances for many years. He’s handled disappointments in his life much better than me. I have often been bested by my own disappointed hopes. My dedication to this service often wanes in the face of the various challenges that have risen to face my ambitions. But not his. And as much as I hope on his behalf, I too am disappointed in equal measure. But how do you escape that instinct to believe in the “Ubuntu” of fellow Africans? Africans, who look and sound like me, but who at the same time desperately try to separate their identity from mine.
I have spent the last 11 years of my life somewhere not home, and I have learnt a despairing truth – that black or white, as long as that country is not my birthplace, I will be treated as less than. Financially and systematically oppressed to the point of despair. However, I know this much: I would choose the racism of the west, over the xenophobia of my kin folk, so fixated on the dividing demarcations imposed on us by the European explorers of bygone times who sought to prosper off the sweat of our backs and the birthright of our land. And here we are still, holding knives to the throats of our mother’s children.
T.
*If you’d like to support my writing, why not buy me a coffee?
Anytime I have encountered death it has had the same effect on me; I’m forced to reflect on the entirety of life. The covid pandemic has brought new complexities in illness that have made me all the more conscious of the proximity of demise. I remember thinking to myself some months ago, that I have never been more afraid of my job, as I am now.
I have spent almost my entire adult life living away from home. I spent 6 years in Russia at University, and then the following 4 years in and out of South Africa, Lesotho, Malawi and Rwanda before eventually settling in Zambia for the last couple of years.
I’ve been working as a medical doctor in a junior role for the last 2 years. As a consequence of my nationality the government never formerly employed me, despite multiple recruitment drives by the Ministry of Health of Zambia. I cannot begin to describe how difficult it is to work as a full time medical doctor, without any form of salary or allowance. The covid pandemic only made the experience harder. Over the 25 months that I have worked here, rotating through various departments, I have had covid 3 times. The first requiring hospitalisation, and all 3 instances together necessitating 7 weeks time off sick for recovery from various effects of the infections. I have had to cover all my own medical bills.
I have never been one to complain or speak out about the pressures I was facing, but the last year kd
was the hardest thing I have ever had to mentally persevere through. Financially, the stress has been unbearable, driving me into depression almost cyclically. Most of my coping mechanisms have been unhealthy. My body betrays the difficulty I hide behind witty comments and upbeat conversation in it’s inability to keep weight for long periods of time. Fortunately, most of my coworkers don’t care enough to notice. We’re all pretty wrapped up in our own “social problems” as they like to call them.
“Burnout is nature’s way of telling you, you’ve been going through the motions your soul has departed; you’re a zombie, a member of the walking dead, a sleepwalker. False optimism is like administrating stimulants to an exhausted nervous system.”
Sam Keen
Normally, I wouldn’t have thought to write something like this. However in the last few weeks and months I have been increasingly at loggerheads with members of my team and immediate supervisors who have taken every opportunity to belittle my experience. I want it to be known that I have nothing, because I put everything into this. I wish the hundreds of patients I have cared for and managed over the last 2 years, all came away with the feeling that I gave them my best: My full attention, focus and my hardest work. I hope that the several doctors, nurses, hospital staff and students I have encountered within my role have found me a reliable colleague and an approachable person. I hope I have left more smiles than frowns. I am ready to move on to whatever comes next. And as I wait for things to fall in place, it is my sincere expectation that I have accumulated enough good karma to cash in for a more fulfilling journey on the road ahead.
Between a GoFundMe & an OnlyFans, I don’t know what I need lol.
But, here’s to building from the ground up. Here’s to a clean slate.
T.
If you’d like to support my writing, why not buy me a coffee?
Poetry by Tsungai 
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