Dear Shikulu - Tamara Kaunda Pens a Letter to Her Grandfather

Dr Kenneth David Kaunda is the founding father of the country we know today as the Republic of Zambia. A true African statesman, he not only played a pivotal role in the liberation struggle of Zambia but was instrumental in securing freedom for other African countries. I reached out to Tamara Kaunda, who is one of Dr Kaunda’s grandchildren, and she wrote this letter paying homage to the great African man we all love and admire. 


Letter to my Grandfather,

               By Tamara Kaunda

Dear Shikulu,

I remember how when I was growing up I used to walk ten kilometres from your farm to school every day and my school mates would wonder why you didn’t just buy a car for me to be dropped off and picked up from school. Even at that age I understood the significance of humble beginnings and I would tell them that it was my duty to work from scratch and make use of what I had to get to where I wanted to be. The fact that you fought for the freedom that I enjoy in Zambia is more than enough for me.  Back then, you had just come out of power and many people had negative perceptions about you. I felt it was my duty to not only stand up for you and remind people of the great things you had done but as part of the first family I knew that how I behaved was a reflection on the whole family.

Thank you for building this beautiful land which we shall continue building and forever treasure in our hearts. My hope is that as Zambians we will continue to love one another and be the change we want to see in our country rather than complaining about our challenges. I think that each generation faces its own set of trials. Today in Zambia we have economic challenges and I would like to encourage our people to seek solutions to our problems in the same way that you and the men and women who fought for our independence chose to seek solutions to our lack of freedom.

I believe that if every single one of us took it as a personal responsibility, together we could continue building what our forefathers built for us. When I went to study in China you were tremendously happy and encouraged me learn how the Chinese worked and bring those lessons back to our land. Having learnt from their incredible work ethic and just graduated from medical school I am excited about my plans for serving my country, particularly women and children.

If any of my fellow countrymen cast their eyes on this letter, I ask them to remember you, to focus on building skills for self-reliance, to teach their children to fish and not wait to be spoon-fed and to be future oriented and not short-sighted. We can build a Zambia that we all love, a Zambia that prospers, the Zambia of our dreams. I know that this is the dream that you have for us and I hope we can bring it to fruition in your lifetime.

With all my love,

Tamara

Tamara Kaunda pictured above with her grandfather, Dr Kenneth Kaunda, "Whenever I am with him there are no dull moments because we are a pair that loves life and people." 
Photo Courtesy of Tamara Kaunda.

Tamara shared a few extra nuggets about her beloved grandfather.

1. How he inspires her

What inspires me most about him is the love he has for his country. He managed to unite 72 tribes and we have lived in harmony for the past 50 years. He did everything in his power to unite us and he taught us that regardless of which part of the country you come from we are all Zambians. The one thing I admire most about him is his love for the land. He believes in agriculture, and as a part of the family I was taught farming at a very tender age and that has helped me even now. My grandfather believes that if we could all go back to the land and make use of it we would have an economically stable and happy Zambia.

2. What he has taught her

One of the greatest ways in which he has impacted me is through his belief in hard work, talking less and doing more actions. He believes if you want to make an impact on a community, your country and the world at large do not just talk; do it and your work will speak for itself.

3. What he loves about her

I always looked for forward to having him for Christmas at the farm and I would be excited because I wanted to tell him all about what I had done at school. Trust me, he liked me because my school reports have always been outstanding! My grandfather is fond of imitating me whenever I speak because my voice is a bit sharp and am usually smiling and full of energy when I express myself. 



Thinking about a nation’s founding father

Dr Kaunda served as the president of Zambia for 27 years and his acquiescence to relinquishing power in 1991 after losing the election was an act of magnanimity not many African rulers have been able to practice. It laid the foundation for the robust multi-party democracy that Zambia currently enjoys. Dr Kaunda has shown himself to be a compassionate and affable patriarch whose dream for his nation is that of an abundance of love above all else. He has been up front and centre of Zambia’s and Africa’s response to the HIV and AIDS pandemic as a member of the Champions for an AIDS-free Generation in Africa. Dr Kaunda is a prolific writer, penning several books over the course of a lifetime. One of his books,  “Letter to my children,” is a heartfelt attempt to reach out to his children and impart the fatherly words of wisdom and instruction they may have personally missed out on as a result of having had to share their dad with millions of other Zambians.  By now, Dr Kaunda is not just a father but a grandfather too and is as iconic a father figure to his grandchildren as he is to the nation.

Enkosi

Never in all my life has linoleum held such a profound fascination for me as it did on my first time volunteering   at the Red Cross War Memorial Children's Hospital. As my eyes bore holes in the floor I found my feet shuffling uncontrollably while at the same time anchoring me to a single spot like a ton of lead.

This was a bad idea, a voice in my head announced.  I can't stand that particular voice in my head. She is a smug know-it-all who sounds like the narrator of Desperate Housewives and is only ever present when things are going badly.

She was right though. I am not a people person, I hate hospitals, am repulsed at the thought of germs and sick people and I am scared of real life children, particularly babies. I had no business being at a children's hospital and thinking I could be put to any kind of use. As one by one the other volunteers around me were assigned to various duty stations, some to sort through donations, others to play with sick children I became increasingly aware of the rapid and powerful thudding of my heart against my rib cage. I swear that traitor was trying to escape. My own cardiac tissue would have preferred to leave me for dead than witness the next few hours of what was sure to be a resoundingly disastrous attempt at doing some good in the world. Unbelievable!

The nurse handing out the assignments was nothing short of a force of nature. The magnitude of this woman was both terrifying and awe-inspiring like a raging weather phenomenon or an impossible geographical feature. She was massive and when her no-nonsense eyes locked with mine it became clear that I was doomed.

You. You're coming with me.

Oh heck no, I thought and slid behind a girl in front of me. There were only two of us left.

I realized she still had me on lock. Curse you skinny, short girl!

Tarryn, they are waiting for you in the garden. Wena (pointing at me) let's go!

As we walked through the corridors, me with my feet of lead and Sister Hurricane with the power of a gale force wind I began to nurture hope that perhaps I would be relegated to a windowless room at the back of the hospital somewhere and made to sort through old patients' records or some such innocuous activity. Anything but human contact would have been great.

We stopped walking. I looked up from the linoleum. A baby in a crib...barely audibly whimpering in a sea of soft fluffy bright yellow bedding. When I saw a pair of tiny feet clad in peppermint green woolen booties poking through the bedding I knew that I was done for.

The Hurricane handed me a feeding bottle.

The thing is, I- I -I don't really know how...

It's fine he knows what to do. I'll check on you later.

I gingerly offered the bottle to the baby.

Don't be silly. Pick him up and sit in that chair! 

Oh. Er. Yes. Of course. That's what I was about to...

Tsk! She was already gone as I lifted the soft mass of peppermint wrapped preciousness and then proceeded to freeze in mid air.

Do not screw this up. Do not drop the infant. What are you doing? Do not grip him so tightly, you'll smother him! Calm down. That's better. Everything is fine. Everyone is okay.

Little wrinkly hands reached up to my chin while hungry eyes drank in my apprehensive face and examined me closely. It felt like a moment between Gertie and E.T. I was definitely the E.T. Steadily the contents of the bottle were gulped down and as I looked into the eyes of this helpless human being who had trusted me, a total stranger, to provide him sustenance, I was humbled. I suddenly felt connected to the pulse of life and I was simply grateful to be a part of it. I marveled at him: such a beautiful, warm and peaceful baby...What could have brought him here and why was he alone?

Will my baby make it? said a frail, shaky voice breaking into my thoughts. She was tiny, drowning in what appeared to be hospital robes and she looked like a rag doll as she struggled to move her wheelchair closer to us. Her eyes were bulging giving her a look of bewilderment and her skin was covered in lesions while her hands shook uncontrollably. I immediately recognized the signs.

Is he all right? she whispered the words in Xhosa through her bright pink quivering lips. It wouldn't be long for her...

I looked down at him. His skin was the colour of savanna grasslands at sunrise in the dry season and as he stared up at me, oblivious to his impending orphan-hood he flashed a toothless grin that pushed hard against chubby, dimpled cheeks tinged with pink. Oh dear. It was my treacherous heart again, swelling against my rib cage and exploding with a feeling I cannot articulate...

I heard her lungs wheezing beside me. Argh! Why? Why, why, why was she asking me anyway? I wasn't a doctor, I was just a kid for goodness sake!

Yes, I mumbled.

You could at least have the decency to look at her... said the narrator of Desperate Housewives.

I turned and fixed my eyes somewhere in the middle of her forehead.

Yes, he will make it, I said hoping to God this wouldn't turn out to be a lie.

She sighed, Enkosi. I looked away.

Thank you? Why on Earth was she thanking me?

He likes you. Do you come here often? Her wheezing was escalating.

Y-yes. A lie.

Will you come back tomorrow?

Yes. Another lie.

Enkosi. 'Nkos' ibusise. (Thank you. God bless.)

Nothing wounds me as much as the gratitude of the poor and helpless. It pierces straight through my spleen and leaves my soul haemorrhaging guilt and a deep sense of failure and inadequacy. Because let's be honest. Can we ever do enough? Do we ever really extend ourselves as much as we could? I know I don't. I could definitely do more.

I do not remember what his name was. I don't even know exactly what he was sick with. If he did make it as I told his mother he would, he is ten years old this year. I imagine he can do fractions and decimals and loves playing soccer with his friends. I imagine he gets three solid meals a day and is happy and well adjusted. I force myself to imagine this because the chances are as one of over 2 million children orphaned by AIDS in South Africa, the alternative reality is far too dark and depressing for me to live with and actually be able to sleep at night.

Peter Pan, the immortal child. There is a statue of him at the entrance of the  Red Cross Children's hospital.

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