By MIRIAM ZIMBA –
AFTER returning to Zambia in 1960 following her failed marriage in Southern Rhodesia, Malisela Tembo began working as a maid at the University teaching Hospital (UTH) maternity ward in 1973.
Born on an unrecorded date some time in 1944, Malisela, a former freedom fighter, quickly rose to the rank of senior maid.
In 1985, she met someone she never imagined could one day become first lady, Dr Christine Kaseba.
At the time, Dr Kaseba was one of the doctors working at the labour ward, and according to Ms Tembo, she shared a cordial working relationship with Dr Kaseba.
Perhaps because of this relationship the two shared, she had the privilege of meeting late President Michael Sata, who at the time was district governor for Lusaka.
Because of his active participation in politics, Ms Tembo was well aware of Mr Sata’s seemingly tough-intolerant nature, by virtue of him being a public figure.
However, Ms Tembo stopped at nothing in executing her duties in controlling entry to the maternity wing.
“Mr Sata once came to look for Dr Kaseba who was doing her rounds in the labour ward.
He was almost making his way into the labour ward when I stopped him and boldly told him it was a restricted area, and that he could not proceed beyond the entrance.
He was shocked at my bravery when I reproached him and pushed him away from trying to enter the ‘sacred place’ and he had a lot of respect for me, especially after realising that I was his traditional cousin,” she recounted.
In an act of reconciliation and atonement, Mr Sata who nicknamed Ms Tembo ‘Tombi’, gave her village chickens which she gladly accepted.
This was the beginning of their long lasting traditional cousinship with President Sata which was based on trust and generosity.
Every time Mr Sata paid Dr Kaseba a visit at UTH, he ensured that he stopped at nothing to greet Ms Tembo, who at this point in time had become his ‘trustee.’
“He would stop by and ask me to call Dr Kaseba for him, and I would gladly oblige,” she said.
She also recounted how Mr Sata offered material support towards her daughter’s wedding in 1988.
“He bought ten chickens, crates of soft drinks and alcohol for the wedding,” she adds.
In 2014, Ms Tembo received two medals on October 24, 2014 in recognition of her contribution to the country’s freedom struggle.
Her history in the country’s freedom struggle dates back to 1958 when she was at Chifiwti Middle School in Kitwe.
She was approached by officials from the African National Congress (ANC), to join the party.
Because of her literacy levels which at the time were rated better than the majority of indigenous Zambians, she was tasked to record some of the minutes of the meetings the party held as well as record names of new members.
Despite being a minor, she had already realised early enough the important role she was playing in the history of the country’s politics and this service she provided was not entirely thankless.
“They used to give me tips and in turn, I also gave a share of the tips I received with my class teacher, so I could continue being allowed to perform this task,” she recalls.
In 1959, at the age 15 years, she did what most girls her age would have done. She got engaged to be married.
It was around this very period that she was instrumental in the formation of the youth wing for political activism.
This required extensive travelling to different parts of the country in the name of political campaigns, and most of the long distances were covered on foot.
She recounts that just around the same period of the death of former freedom fighter Omelo Mumba in 1962, she was so engrossed in political campaigns that her impending marriage was not a priority for her.
However, she had to bow down to family pressure.
She was forced to join her husband Alifa Tembo, who was working in one of the mines in Hwange, Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe).
Because this was a marriage she did not enter into on her on free accord, it did not last long because she recalls having many conflicts.
“My husband and I argued mostly about my involvement in political activities in Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia). This did not allow for my active involvement in taking care of my home, and according to my husband, I was not ready or interested in marriage,” she says.
Because the colonialists in Southern Rhodesia had employed stringent security measures aimed at curbing the movement of political rebels from Northern Rhodesia.
Ms Tembo had to devise a mechanism of smuggling UNIP party cards to Zambians who were working in that country.
“I used to tuck a stash of party cards in my clothes whenever I crossed the border because a lot of my colleagues were arrested and detained in prisons because of smuggling political campaign materials,” she narrated.
“Most of those who got caught with these were those who hid them in their luggage. That was why they got caught, she added.
“There was a time when I heard that the colonialists had sent inspectors to raid homes of suspects to look for political campaign materials. When I got wind of this, I dug a hole in the ground and buried the cards until the dust settled,” she narrates.
She remembers that her passion for politics angered her husband so much that he could no longer take it anymore.
On one particular day, he burnt her with nshima, and sent her packing out of their house and she did not even have to think twice about it and seized the opportunity to leave for Northern Rhodesia.
“I understood the reason why my husband was uncomfortable with my involvement in politics, because it posed a risk to his job in the mines,” she added.
However, despite the fact that her husband’s actions amounted to assault, she was advised not to report the matter to the police for fear of having her husband locked up in police detention, which would have ultimately meant him losing his employment.
“I also feared that reporting the matter to the authorities would have also landed me in trouble because the police would have investigated what led to the fight and would have realised that I was a political activist, so opted not to report the matter,” she said.
At the time of Zambia’s Independence in 1964, Ms Tembo was already back in the country.
She was among the hundreds of Zambians who gathered at Lusaka’s Woodlands Stadium to celebrate the country’s Independence.
She was glad to have returned home because at the time, the black community in Southern Rhodesia were still being served through pigeon holes at shops and market places.
Prior to this, the couple’s marital disputes saved her husband from death when he missed work because they had a serious altercation over her political involvement.
“On this day, we were fighting as usual, when suddenly there was news about an accident at the mine he was working for where all the shift workers present died as a result of an under-ground cave-in,” she recounts.
In 1978, she later got married to Wilson Kondowe and the couple were blessed with seven children.
She explains that calls for unity and peace that common in the pre-colonial era was also required now as country mourned the death of President Sata, whom she described as a selfless leader who despite having appeared as a tough man was a very gentle and humble man,” she said.
On the day that news about the president’s demise broke, Ms Tembo was at her home in Lusaka’s Matero Township. “I was in my house that morning when one of my grandchildren told me the president had died. I decided to find out from my neighbours who confirmed it was true. I was in such shock that I immediately called the treasurer of the Freedom and Democracy Fighters’ Association, who also confirmed and advised me to get to Chilenje community hall for a meeting,’ she said.
For Ms Tembo, Mr Sata was not only a politician she knew from her days in the UNIP era, but also a traditional cousin, a trustee and comrade whom she will greatly miss.