I was pulling out on the gravel road that leads to the main highway outside Kitwe. At my first turn-off I saw women and children walking beside the road. The early morning sunlight just breaking through the thick canopy of the trees made it difficult to see everyone clearly. But I was able to make out their arms fully extended from the shoulder, shaking their open hands up and down at the wrist signaling they wanted a lift.
“Clutch, shift to neutral and brake” I consciously thought to myself, being new to driving a manual diesel vehicle and quickly rolled to a stop beside them. “We are going to the Luanshya turn off” they said. “Aweee-kay” I replied with a smile and thumbs up. In the rear view mirror, I watched as the first group threw the bags from their heads into the back of the pick-up and climbed in. The children pushing themselves up and reaching their feet as far as they could to get over the side walls, almost falling into the trunk shortly afterward.
“Clutch, first gear…” I was thinking to myself until I looked into the rear view mirror again. Squinting, I peered far on the gravel road stretching far behind me, criss-crossed with shadows from the tall trees lining both sides. Silhouettes of children waving away from me was all I saw towards a woman who seemed to be walking as fast as she could towards me. To get a better look I turned to look over my right shoulder… and saw the door frame. “You’re driving on the right side Anthony, look behind over your left shoulder.” I said to myself and turned the other way.
There was the old woman, hunched over by years of working, coming out of the shadows. The women already in the trunk moved around to give space and grabbed the bags that the children were carrying beside her. Stumbling into the back despite being helped by everyone she sat down and I saw a glimpse of relief just before she smiled at everyone else in the back. Two loud knocks on the roof of the cab, and then I began to drive off.
As I released the clutch and stepped on the gas I reached down to the crank on the door and cracked the window a little more open. Laughter and chatter could be heard amongst the sound of rubber tire crushing gravel and the loud whine of the diesel engine. “Oops, need to shift up. Clutch, 3rd gear, gas.”
We were picking up speed on the gravel road, the grass between the two red dirt tracks disappearing faster under the hood. The flashes of sunlight light through the shadows of trees and the clanging of keys against the steering column quickened their rhythms as the road curved eastward. Then, BAM! We broke out of the trees into a pasture and everything in front of me disappeared behind the direct sunlight that now illuminated the thin film of dust that collected on the windshield. After pulling on the arm to the right of the steering wheel and unintentionally signaling a right turn, I flicked on the wipers using the arm on the left side of the wheel and was able to see again through streaks of dirt now smeared across the windshield.
I saw a merger ahead and slowed down looking cautiously through the trees to see if there was a speeding vehicle about to break in front of me. There wasn’t and again I stepped on the gas. “40km/h, 45km/h… 50km/h” the dials read now that I was on the main gravel road. It was wide enough to have two cars side-by-side. Being cold in the morning, I became conscious of the fact that I may be going too fast for those behind me. Glancing at the rear view mirror, I saw that they had tucked the cloths they were wrapped in tighter and were mostly curled more to fight off the cold. The plum of dust grew thicker and higher behind as my speed increased. But the people were all were still smiling though clenched lips and squinted eyes from the dust and looking into the eastern morning sunlight. So far so good.
Continuing on, I was slowly veering the truck to the left and to the right side of the road mindful of being as smooth as possible for those riding in the back. A few times on this route taught me where I need to position myself to avoid the large stones that protruded up from the ground.
Coming up the final hill, we began to see the tops of large cargo trucks speeding past the opening between the tree line ahead of us. We were approaching the main highway. Just before the pavement, I turned off to the side, turned on the hazard signals and parked the truck. Everyone jumped off and the old woman who raced to the truck at the beginning of our journey walked up beside me. Her hunch allowed her to only raise her head slightly above the lower frame of my window. But the size of her smile was unmistakable. She raised her arms high in the air then clasped her hands together in front of her saying “na toe tela, sana” (Literally: I’m thankful, very much). “Aye, em queye. Muyende wino” I shouted back (which, I think means: Sure thing, go well).
I will always remember being out in rural areas, biking or walking those long distances against the wind, against thirst and against those rolling hills. Every time a pick-up truck stopped to lend me a lift, it was a God-send.
That morning, it felt nice to pay the favour forward.
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