Lusaka market

City market west of Freedom Way is where the grassroots Zambian goes to shop. Roadside blankets spread with dried fish, fruit, green beg, corn and secondhand clothes. Behind the squatting women who sell these wares are decrepit mini vans that act as local buses. They stream through shoppers and stop, it seems at random spots. But commuters seem to know exactly where to get their bus, and they bustle with their wares through the narrow gaps between vehicles where young men hiss, whistle and whisper in my ear; “Take me to your country.”
This is the city market where narrow stalls tail off in long tight lanes. The stall I want is in the pink section. A newspaper ad seeks to help nurses and midwives wanting to work overseas. I want to talk to those behind the ad about the brain drain of nurses here.
I peer down the lane of stalls, tightly packed with shoppers, tradesmen and those with no jobs and nothing to do. A few people watch me as I head into the lane – I can’t see the end – the area where the yellow zone ends and the pink zone, where I am headed, begins. I look back out to the bus zone and can’t see the road beyond. A young man hisses sharply in my ear and I move fast, back out toward the buses, the roadside and the shop traders of Freedom Way. I thought I was brave enough to visit Yanos Foundation Homes in person, but suddenly their mobile phone number sounds apt – it’s not what Michael Palin would have done, but he had a camera crew.
I chicken out, but this market doesn’t seem like the type of place that would house a reputable agency truly taking young Zambian nurses overseas. I call their mobile number and a man answers. I say I have a young friend interested in their service. He said they organize visas and jobs and charge 100,000 Kwacha for the forms, 25,000 Kwacha for regulations and they will post out a package within three weeks of receiving the money. I ask what is in the package? Why? I have a friend, she wants to go to UK, but she wants to know what she is paying for. The telephone line goes dead.