After many arranged days and subsequent cancellations (mantra: breed patience, not resentment), we set off to visit the chief! I had very little idea of what to expect. During training, we were briefed about etiquette when visiting a chief but each experience is likely to be different. The tribal chiefs in Zambia comprise the traditional leadership which works in tandem with the modern government. There is a hierarchical system of chiefs in each tribe, which works to maintain local leadership within tribes and within tribal regions. To me, it seems chiefs and tribal leadership are the figures that handle day-to-day issues as they arise in people’s lives- land disputes, divorces, arrivals of new residents, interpersonal conflict, theft, and cultural celebrations. The chiefs also usually are the owners of the land, and people either lease or buy land from chiefs for agriculture and villages. On the everyday basis, a common person is much more likely to interact with a chief than with a member of parliament or other governmental official. The chiefs are accorded that respect- even the MPs or President will show appropriate deference to a chief, I’m told.
I was fortunate to be accompanied by my counterpart and my host father, who acted as examples of proper behavior. They made me feel nervous, though! As soon as we parked our bicycles by the gate, they transformed from gentlemen into tittering schoolboys, acting nervous, speaking in hushed hurried tones, and looking around with what seemed to me like apprehension. We rearranged the bicycles against the trees at least three times before they were satisfied. These men take a royal visit seriously.
The palace is located in about the center of the village and has a long path leading to the gate. If one wants to meet with the chief, you approach the gate and wait for the chief’s retainer to notice you and come out to greet you. The retainer asks your purpose for visiting the chief. If it is a worthy matter and the chief is available, the retainer will take the message to the chief while you wait outside the gate.
While we waited for the retainer to return, my counterparts briefed me on the clapping procedure, which is a way to show respect in Lunda culture (as well as other Zambian cultures). At this point, I was sweating in my chitenge, which is of course what a woman should wear to see the chief. The retainer returned and said the chief would be pleased to meet with us. He opened the gate (which was like the levered arm on a modern parking garage, except made of sticks and not motorized) and we approached. When we reached the opening to the gate, we knelt and clapped a series of seven quick claps, three times. Then we stood and followed the retainer onto the palace grounds. I had imagined us entering a court of palm fronds and reed mats for the subjects but we were instead led into a modern living room, with overstuffed sofas and a coffee table draped in lace doilies. The schoolboys and I panicked for a few moments about where each should sit, then roosted and waited for the chief to enter. We left the largest armchair at the front of the room open, thinking it a fitting seat for a chief. My counterparts whispered in Lunda until the chief entered from behind a curtain. We immediately knelt and repeated the clapping procedure. The chief took his seat, not in the large armchair but in a humble wooden chair in the back corner of the room. He greeted us and welcomed us, then asked us to explain our presence. My host father did all the speaking, in Lunda, so I was struggling to follow along. I know there was some discussion of Peace Corps, the aquaculture project, and how long I would be staying in the village. The chief spoke directly to me then, while my ataata (host father) translated. He said I was very welcome to do my work and that he would treat me like a daughter, even though our skin is different. He spoke with my counterparts somewhat more, then blessed us all. I was called forward to present my gift, which was a packet of 1kg sugar and some cooking oil, to the retainer and was thanked by the chief. Bringing gifts is the compensation for the chief’s time. The nature of the gift reflects the nature of the issue- a packet of sugar or a chicken (but not a black one) is appropriate for audience and small disputes, while goats or even a cow are required for more serious issues.
We filtered out and were ushered by the retainer past the gate, where everyone seemed to breathe and speak normally again. The presence of the chief, humble though his nature, commanded reverence. I feel protected and supported by living within a chiefdom, especially one so far away from other arms of the Zambian government.
The only troubling component of the visit was the chief, in his wooden chair in a dark corner, was wearing a hat that partially obscured his face. I’m seriously worried if I were to pass him on the road or see him in the market, I wouldn’t recognize him by face.
Addendum: The above situation actually happened two weeks ago in my village. Did I jinx myself? I was bicycling home, up a decently steep hill in the afternoon sun, when a man called out to me from the side of the road. He was coming from a house where music was playing and many men were sitting drinking. I was tired and not eager to stop to be talked at by a drunk person, so I waved and continued biking. The man started following me, still calling out and telling me to stop, so I finally braked hard (in a little bit of a huff) and turned around, saying “Okay,” with more than a little disgruntle in my voice. The man started talking to me and I didn’t know who he was, but he was being followed by a worried looking younger man, clearly sober and in stark contrast to the speaker. It quickly sunk in that this younger man was the chief’s retainer, which of course means the drunk man speaking to me is… the chief! I immediately kneeled down and clapped, then stood and apologized to the chief. He had been drinking liberally and was slurring his words somewhat, so I apologized for not understanding and wished him well. I only hope he has a less than clear memory of the interaction. At least I’ve seen the chief in daylight now!
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