This is the story of a middle-class 32-year-old living in Zambia, one of Africa’s most peaceful countries, and far from one of its poorest.
It is also the story of the everyday Sisyphean struggles of tens of millions of aspirational Africans in the world’s fastest-urbanising continent, one that is changing more quickly beneath the surface than most people realise. Today about 40 per cent of Africa’s population lives in cities, against less than 20 per cent in 1960, opening up the promise of a middle-class life with access to education, services and new ideas, if not usually to well-paid jobs, business loans or adequate infrastructure.
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Finally, it is the story of the family support networks that provide a social safety net but can sometimes smother individual aspirations.
Prince Nyirenda lives in the rapidly expanding town of Chipata in eastern Zambia. He drives a car for a living, though he speaks meticulous English that suggests a better-paid office job. His mother tongue is Kaonde, which is spoken by only 350,000 people. He has also learnt Nyanja, the more widely spoken language of Eastern Province.
Nyirenda has a wife and a three-year-old son. In a country and a continent with a fertility rate of just over four, he and his wife don’t plan to have another child until their financial situation improves — even if it takes 10 years. As more people move to the cities, the fertility rate is gradually dropping — it was seven in 1980 — even if less quickly than some demographers had expected.
Nyirenda’s life story is one of ambitions deferred. One of four children, all boys, he was brought up in a village by his mother after his father, who worked in the copper mines, suddenly died — the sort of catastrophic event that is the death knell to a million dreams. “My mother told me: ‘One day father knocked off work. He complained that he was not feeling well. The next morning they took him to the hospital — and that’s when he died.’”
When Nyirenda had to give up his studies at 16, just one year shy of graduation, his maths teacher “dropped tears” to see such a talented pupil quit. But his mother had to make an agonising decision. His two older brothers were training to be teachers. She could not afford to educate them all. His turn would come.
He helped her on the farm. After three years, he moved to the copper belt where he learnt to drive and became a taxi driver. Some years later he was offered a job driving for a Chinese company selling solar panels in the east of the country. Days would be long but the pay was good. He would earn $118 a month, and accommodation was free.
After two years the contract ended. He found another taxi job and got some long-haul trips delivering second-hand Japanese cars from the Tanzanian coast to Zambia over roads with potholes that could swallow a goat.
Eventually, he saved enough money to buy his own car, a 21-year-old Toyota Corolla for $3,530. That ladder to a better life was swiftly followed by a snake. His younger brother was studying in college to become a doctor and the family was struggling with fees. He sold the car at a loss and sent $3,000 to his sibling. His family would help him when the time came.
In the meantime he had fallen in love. He met his wife, who had just graduated from high school, on a Sunday. “I went to church to worship and I saw her singing. And I thought she was beautiful.” Later, when he proposed marriage, her family had one stipulation: he should pay her college fees. She would be the fourth person he had helped through higher education.
Now, Nyirenda lives in a two-bedroom house with a living room and kitchen, indoor bathroom, running water and electricity, for which he pays $48 a month. He budgets a further $80 for food, clothing and incidentals, and puts a little away for his son’s education. He spends $2.50 on family health insurance.
His wife got her diploma last year but has yet to find a sought-after job in a government school, which would pay up to $275 a month. To get by, Nyirenda has started rearing chickens. He began with 55 and then bought 110; they cost $235, including feed to rear them to adulthood. Of the last batch, one died, the family ate nine and he sold the remaining 100 for a $157 profit. Next month he plans to buy 220.
When his wife finds a job, she will help him through college, but he will need to complete his high-school diploma first. Still quick at maths, he wants to study accountancy.
Nyirenda is keeping the embers of his dreams alive. “I’m looking forward to making sure all my plans work well.” He is doing better than most. The future of Zambia, and of Africa, rests with millions like him.
david.pilling@ft.com
Letter in response to this article :
Our microfinance targets African women exclusively / From Malin Rosenkvist, Director of Fundraising, MicroLoan Foundation, London SE1, UK