“ALFRED, I can tell you, we have survived the holocaust. You cannot believe what has happened since you have been away – so many of our friends have died; you meet their widows or children and you just do not know what to say.”
With those words, our friend and former Raylton Club manager Scott Brown graphically narrated to me the tragic story of how in a short  period Ndola had lost ‘so many professionals, including young lawyers, High Court judges, doctors, journalists, editors, senior Zambia Railways (ZR) and other parastatal organisations’ chief executive officers (CEO).
In other words, he was telling me that some members of Zambia’s fast-growing middle class had been wiped out as if the country had experienced the holocaust that took place in Nazi Germany when six million Jews perished in gas chambers at the hands of fascists headed by Adolf Hitler during World War II (1939-1945).
I had arrived in Ndola from Gaborone, the Botswana capital, at night so I could not go to any of the banks in the Central Business District (CBD) to buy the Kwacha until the next day.
As I walked on Buteko Avenue the following morning, I ran into Scott Brown who was sitting outside Alamein Bottle Store where he had been offered some employment after his sudden ‘retrenchment’ from Zambia Railways (ZR), which he had served for nearly 30 years.
‘Scottie’, as we fondly called him in the hey-day, had difficulty walking due to arthritis. He had also developed high blood pressure (BP) and was constantly in pain. Despite these afflictions, he could still afford a smile.
He told me he was lucky – to have been given a job by young Monty Duggan, a family friend and whose father used to run the once popular Broadway Tavern – because most of his ‘unlucky’ former colleagues at ZR had died “due to depression arising from early retirement or retrenchment”.
Some, of course, had died due to other natural causes, he explained, adding that what was even more painful was the fact that many workers did so without receiving their terminal benefits, thus leaving wives and children in a state of destitution.
The young lawyers he mentioned included Derrick Kafunda, Happy Chama, Gutsy Chilandu, Wilson Mwale and Eddie Tembo, all former classmates at the University of Zambia (UNZA) while High Court judges included Dr Chishala Chitoshi, a former Ndola town clerk, and Mr David Lewanika, former Football Association of Zambia (FAZ) and City of Lusaka chairperson.
At the Times of Zambia, almost the entire team of sub-editors that I left on the Main Desk in April 1992, including the man who replaced me, as Chief Sub-Editor George Ngambi, had also died. Others were Louis Likulunga, Lawrence Kazenda, Ian Mugala, Mike Moono and Jack Lumbwe, if I remember correctly.
Reporters included Stanley Mulenga (features) and Lennie Katulushi (sports), Lina Sianaluja and Emily Kachabe (editorial secretaries) and many others. This was just a tip of the iceberg.
‘Scottie’ then related the depressing story of former Times of Zambia deputy editor-in-chief, Namushi Nyambi, who died, as he put it ‘a destitute’ because of non-payment of his ‘perks’ after he and Mr Naphy Nyalugwe, the editor-in-chief, were suspended and later replaced on instruction from Lusaka.
A highly gifted and intelligent man, Mr Namushi Nyambi, who was my predecessor, made history by becoming the first African Chief Sub-Editor of the then Lonrho-owned Times of Zambia, a position which was one of the top jobs ‘reserved for whites’ during the colonial days when the paper was called Northern News.
While Mr Nyalugwe was redeployed and remained within Lusaka, Namushi, who hailed from Western Province, was sent to Kasama in Northern Province, as one of the district administration officers.
Namushi only had a muttering knowledge of Bemba, the language spoken in the region, and most of us, who did not know what sins the two bosses had committed, thought the move was harsh and a pathetic justification of punishment.
If it was a question of abuse or misapplication of company funds, surely such monies could have been converted to loans and later recovered from their salaries, we opined at the time.
Sympathisers and believers in efficient service delivery also questioned how Namushi was going to perform his duties in a completely new environment and away from his family?
Like any civil servant, and in the spirit of One Zambia One Nation, he was expected to serve anywhere in the country, but colleagues wondered why a journalist should be sent into ‘exile’ for perceived ‘rehabilitation’ – that is if he needed reformation.
Namushi did not stay long at his new post in Kasama and returned to Lusaka. I am told that because of accommodation problems in Lusaka, he finally went back to his home district, Kaoma, in the Western Province, a battered man.
According to Scott Brown, Namushi returned to Ndola, apparently in a bid to access his pension benefits from the old Zambia National Provident Fund (ZNPF). He was in such a sorry state that former colleagues and members of the Ndola Club had to mobilise funds to buy him some decent clothes.
“How do you treat a former Deputy Editor-In-Chief like that? I think Namushi was shabbily treated,” he said of a man that everybody liked because of his humility.
He then gave me a list of people who had passed on, including Dr George Simwinga, the former NAMECO director of operations based at the Times/Printpak offices in Ndola.
Dr Simwinga, he added, was involved in a road accident on the Ndola-Kitwe dual carriageway near Twapia Township but died later in hospital. I could not help but shed tears
Dr Simwinga was one of our lecturers in Public Administration at UNZA before he joined Times/Printpak as general manger and later NAMECO director of operations.
He was a modest man and astute administrator.
I had once travelled with Dr Simwinga to Mufulira for his mother’s funeral service at the UCZ and subsequent burial at Kansuswa Cemetery.
“I do not know what is happening in places like Kitwe, but Ndola has lost so many of its professionals; there are very few of us remaining; Alfred, I tell you, we have survived the holocaust. Far too many people have died in a short space of time; it’s shocking,” he said then.
On my next return to Ndola, I went to Alamein shop hoping to say ‘hi’ to my old buddy Scott Brown, but the place was closed and there was no one I could ask.
However, as fate would have it, I met his ex-workmate Perry Miti, a former ZR human resources manager, outside a shop on Independence Avenue.
Before I could tell him that I had been trying to call on Scottie, Miti announced the shocking news that Scott had collapsed and died in his flat as he and others celebrated his birthday.
Apparently he had gone to the ‘Gents’ upstairs when he collapsed. When he did not seem to be returning, one of the revellers decided to go upstairs and check only to find him lying on the floor, lifeless.
The cold hand of death had struck again. Oh my God, I exclaimed as I remembered his graphic reference to the holocaust outside the Alamein shop, not knowing that was to prove to be our last meeting.
I also recalled what the Bible says in Matthew 24:36-42, which reads in part:
“But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heavens, but my Father only.”
Scottie’s two children – daughter and son – had relocated to Zimbabwe to join their mother’s relatives most probably in Harare.
His wife, ‘Shaffie’, with whom he had been separated for a long time, had also died some three years previously, Miti added.
“I didn’t know all that because Scottie had not talked about it,” I said.
“If you do not see somebody that you used to know, don’t ask anyone about their whereabouts or you will be shocked,” Miti said as he leaned on one of his crutches.
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