Steve Kabani

18/08/2026

13/08/2026

Continued....

The entire congregation turned around and burst into laughter.

The drunk village lawyer was somehow given a chance to speak.

"Ba Busa bafuno kambako." Then he pointed directly at me.

"What?! Me?! How am I involved in this?" I thought.

He then walked to the front and whispered something into Judge Katongo's ear.

For almost a minute, the two engaged in a serious private conversation.

Throughout the secret conversation, Katongo locked his eyes on me while nodding in validation.

At this point, I began wondering whether I had accidentally become the teacher's new jungle lawyer, a witness or an accomplice.

I saw the drunk fella walk to the teacher and whispered something before returning to the judge, in all this the congregation didn't seem bothered apparently, this was normal procedure.

Eventually the drunk lawyer returned to me.

"Nakamba naeve Katongo ati afuna K200."

"What? K200? For what?" I asked

He immediately changed his story. "No, ati teacher apempa ko tuzali azamipasa after court."

"I don't have." I replied

"Okay, timupase chabe even K50." He further asked

"Sir, nilibe." I replied

"Okay, tizazuba vochita." He remarked and walked back to the judge for another confidential meeting.

Then after about 3 minutes he returned and whispered to me

"Abusa! Issue ili sorted, aza wina teacher wanu, Muzanipasa ko chabe transport po bwelela ku BOMA"

At this point I realised that whatever legal system existed here, needed a total overhaul as there was clearly an informal taxation department operating.

Immediately after the whispering session, the secretary called the house to order.

"The proceedings shall be halted for 20 minutes. Everyone must go on break." He said

Everyone left.

I remained with the drunk jungle lawyer.

Then Katongo walked towards me.

"Abusa, muli bwanji? Taumuza vochita teacher?"

I smiled nervously still having no absolute idea what role I was playing in all this.

20 minutes later, everyone gathered again for the verdict.

Before proceedings resumed, I saw my drunk friend going to greet the teacher.

It was that special type of handshake where money changes jurisdiction.

Jugde Katongo looked at Mathew.

"Mafau, when last did you buy your wife soap?"

Mathew: "Ahhh, I can't remember."

Judge: "Good! when last did you buy her glycerin?"

Mathew: "Not that I remember."

Judge: "When last did you buy her sugar? Not sugar for the household. Her personal sugar?"

Mathew paused.

"Eeeh... I need to buy my wife her personal sugar?" I thought

Judge: "Have you ever?"

Mathew "I have never."

Judge: "GOOD!, have you ever bought her a mirror in your life"

At this point Mathew goes mute, he begins to realize that this case has escalated, its no longer Mathew vs The teacher, at this point it was social cash transfer vs rural hardship allowance, for the first time I witnessed the benefits of pay as you earn.

We were now watching the case undergo a complete pathophysiological reversal.

Katongo continued: "Like I earlier said, Katongo is a fair judge."

He looked at Mathew.
"So if you, as a husband, do not buy your wife her needs, what annoys you when a responsible person does it?"

Mmmmmmm, how had this case changed so quickly, five minutes ago, the teacher was being investigated.
Now he was being promoted to Community Development Officer under the ministry of husbandry and home welfare.

Katongo continued:
"You are supposed to be thanking this teacher for providing when you are failing."

"Your wife looks clean today because a very generous young teacher, who is doing the work of teaching your children, must also provide for your house. You should be embarrassed."

Then came the final blow.
"This court is busy and has no time to waste looking at jealous, lazy men. We are busy people. See, Abusa had to leave his work at the church to come here because some lazy man can't even buy a mirror for his wife."

I looked around.
Nobody corrected him.
Apparently, I was now officially abuusa.

"Let this be a lesson to all you lazy men in this village, case closed." Judge Katongo closed the case.
At that point the poor villager understood the power of a government payslip.

Then he turned to Mathew. "You will pay this court K100."

He turned to the teacher.
"And you, teacher, keep helping our community. If you want, you can even sue this man for wasting your time. We are always available."

And just like that, the case was over.

The teacher walked away as a community hero.

The husband left with a K100 fine and a bruised ego

The drunk jungle lawyer had probably secured the teacher's victory and a free ride to town

And me?
I had simply gone for a drive and somehow, I left the village court as Busa, witness, potential lawyer and unpaid member of the judiciary.

12/08/2026

This year we decided to substitute broiler chickens and commercial layer eggs, we said, let’s go natural homegrown, organic village chickens and their eggs instead.

So we got ourselves 3 roosters, 13 hens, 6 guinea fowls and 3 turkeys, all freely roaming around.

The problem is that the past two weeks have completely overwhelmed us with eggs!
The children are collecting eggs every single day. They have officially been promoted to ma full-time midwives ba nkuku, every morning they are out there checking on the newly “born” eggs, counting them and reporting back during the morning briefing and handovers like “Daddy, today we have eight deliveries.”

At this rate, I am seriously tempted to one day administer Depo to some of these hens because clearly, in the aviary world, there is no planned birth and birth by choice.

But truth be told, the difference is undeniable. The colour, texture and taste of a village chicken egg is far superior to those other ones. Even the yolk looks healthier like it has been vegetarian, attending church and avoiding bad company.

So, if you know anyone in Lusaka with an incubator where we can take these eggs, please connect us

11/08/2026

Seated in front was a man in his 50s, light in complexion and of small stature. His hairline was suspiciously too perfect for his age as though he had just left the barbershop. His hair was shiny black so shiny I strongly suspected the intervention of Kiwi black polish.

His knuckles, neck and other skin folds still carried the remnants of melanocytes that had survived the genocde inflicted on his face and the rest of his body by the national chemical engineers' products: "Auntie Milly"

Beside him sat a young man in his early 20s on a yellow plastic container. In his hand was a blue Zampen pen whose end had been sharpened by his persistent chewing.

Between the high table and the congregation sat three people. At one end was a young man who looked well put together, I assumed he was an ECZ officer conducting community sensitisation.

In the middle sat a young woman, a moderate consumer of Milly's hydroquinones and kojic acid.

At the far end sat another man. You could tell he had a thousand words stored behind the vermilion borders of his lips.

His eyes constantly traversed the place, his head moved from one direction to another, and he appeared permanently prepared to object to anything anyone said, this one, I concluded, must be the village lawyer.

Judging by his confidence, the only person who could probably win an argument against him, is PS Carwanah

I hadn't planned to attend court.
I was touring through villages when I noticed this congregation under a tree. Curiosity got the better of me, so I drove around, parked my vehicle somewhere far and walked towards the gathering so that I dont attract unnecessary attention.

I found myself sitting behind among men who were clearly under the influence

From their commentary it was obvious that ethanol in their blood had already exceeded the minimum effective concentration and was now at a steady state concentration.

One of them looked at his friends and whispered:
"Imwe babusa babwela, nkalani normal?"

Another responded:
"Kulibe za normal apa. Sembe ba Mwila balipo, ba Judge ba zoona, not Katongo kawalala wamuntu."

The third one joined in:
"Kaili ndiye secretary. So pamene sibalipo ba Mwila, it means Secretary ndiye judge."

Whatever case had been concluded before my arrival, Judge Katongo was delivering the verdict:

"Since for two years you have failed to pay lobola, it means there was no marriage. Let Chewe continue living with Chris since he has already paid K1,700. However, the court fines you K300 to the woman's parents for cohabiting and K100 to the court. Case dismissed."

"Next case!"
The young secretary called out, still chewing the end of his pen which i recently saw cleaning his ear.

"Ba Mefiuz!"

Apparently, that meant Mathew.

"State your case."

Mathew stood.

"My wife has no respect. She answers me back. She takes longer than usual whenever she goes to draw water. Sometimes she refuses to eat, saying she is full, so I became suspicious."

He paused dramatically

"Last week, while searching in her bag, I found a pouch of salt, a pouch of sugar, a bar of soap and glycerin."

The congregation mummered

"When I asked her, she said they weren't hers. After a few sl@ps, she claimed they belonged to her sister. When we confirmed with the sister, she admitted they were hers, but when her husband questioned her, she later changed her story."

He paused again looking extremely proud of his investigative abilities.

"That's when I followed the Bible verse that says, 'Dont spare the rod, if you desire truth and respect." He said

"Sir! Are we all reading the king James version or yours is the Ethiopian Orthodox?" I thought

If this man had been sent to SA, he would have negotiated for foreigners to be retained. He would probably have negotiated also for the repatriation of the mortal remains

His ability to misquote scripture and adjust the narrative to justify his actions was extraordinary.

Apparently, after he administered the rod, his wife's testimony changed again.

She now claimed the items had been given to her by the teacher.

Immediately, I looked towards the young man I had assumed was an ECZ officer.

Wait a minute, could this be the teacher?

Mathew continued:
"When I confronted the teacher, he admitted giving her the things. So, Ba Katongo, I am here to know why the teacher is donating soaps to my wife."

In my head I was screaming:
"What, dude?! Why?!Bro why?? Why didn't pick from the Momas back in campus? Or why didn't you pick from among the 30,000 newly deployed?

The court remained extremely silent.
"Gooooood!" exclaimed Ba Judge.

"Here we don't care whether you are a boss, rich, poor, government worker or whether you know the President. Katongo deals with everyone squarely. As you know, you cannot corrupt me."

I looked at this judge.

His face, "bleached."

His hair, "Inyaced with Kiwi."

His hair line, "drawn."

A facecloth in his hands for dusting his hair every now and then.
That's not how judges who can't be bought look
Also you don't see such in people at 50.
To me, His suspiciously perfect hairline, dyed hair and constant use of a face cloth were all predisposing factors to corruption.

"Mama!, for you it's just questions so that we don't waste time. Is it true you were found in possession of these exhibits?" The judge asked

She replied "Ba Katongo, what happened is..."

"Ahhh! Don't waste our time. We are busy people. Were you found with these items?" He interrupted

"Yes." She replied

Judge: "Good. Were these items bought by your husband or the teacher?"

"Silence fell upon the court, so deep that I could my neighbor's red blood cells complaining about carrying oxygen while the rest of his cells were just chilling."

"Hehehe! I don't bathe cheap soaps. Chick bar soap from your teacher boyfriend, not me!" Mathew broke the silence

Eventually the poor lady answered in a low voice, her face sinking in shame.

"Niba teacher bamene bananipasa."

"Good. We move on," Katongo declared.

Judge: "Ba Teacher, are you the one who bought soap and lotion for Mefiu's wife?"

Teacher: "I bought soap and other things which I distributed to all the women at church."

Judge: "We are not talking about church here. We are talking about someone's wife. Did these items come from you or not?"

Teacher: "They came from me to the women's leader at church, not to this woman alone."

Before anyone could respond, one of the drunk men behind me shouted:

"Yes! It's true! even the Busa here has confirmed!"

He pointed directly at me.

The congregation turned around to see who this mysterious Buusa was.

I suddenly regretted my decision of joining this court hearing

Judge Katongo continued:
"Hehe! You see, Mr Teacher, we may not be teachers, but don't think we haven't been to school. Some of us have worked with ministers, professors and even presidents, we are known in high offices even across borders. Go to Congo and Lusaka and ask. So don't be overly clever." "What job did the government send you here to do?"

Teacher: "Teaching,"

Judge: "Was distributing lotions to people's wives part of why government sent you here?"

Teacher: "No, sir."

At this point I could see it clearly that this child of ZANUT was being led into a trap.

Judge: "So you agree that giving out soaps is not part of the reason you were sent here?"

Teacher: "Yes, sir."

Judge: "Did you get consent from the husbands of these women before giving them soaps?"

Teacher: "No, sir."

Judge leans forward "When you were giving soap and lotion to this woman, in whose eyes did you want her to look beautiful, yours or her husband's?"

At this point, it became obvious that if ZANUT is not sending a lawyer atleast guy here needed a "jungle lawyer." from among us seated there.

And as though one of the drunk men had read my mind, he turned to me.

"Abusa, teacher uyu saziba ku kamba. First timutandizeko."

The man suddenly stood up and shouted:
"Egesichuzi! Zeckisi!"

The entire congregation turned around and burst into laughter.

He was somehow given a chance to speak.

"Ba Busa bafuno kambako."

Then he looked directly at me.

What?! Me? How am I involved in this???
To be continued...

09/08/2026

Driving deep into the mountains, my expedition transformed when four men emerged carrying sticks, machetes and axes. Their faces looked distressed, yet strangely innocent, that innocence you don't see in Lusaka they signalled for me to stop and I stopped.

Two approached my vehicle with the kind of confidence that was clearly sponsored by social cash transfer.

“Open the boot! Right now!” one demanded.

“Why?” I asked.

“We want to search your boot” he shouted, while baptizing my boot with slaps.

At that moment, three thoughts entered my mind:
1) Drive off.
2) Let them search.
3) Keep talking and try to calm the situation before tomorrow’s social media headline reads: “Lusaka businessman robbed while enjoying mountain views.”

Then he dropped the statement that changed everything.
“In this Spacio, a whole cow can fit in the boot.”
“Dude! this here aren't no Spacio.” I thought

Immediately, i connected a few dots.

Earlier, I had given way to a Spacio. Its rear wheels were buried inside the fenders, the suspension compressed to the limit.

Whatever heavy thing that small Japanese machine carried it must have been as heavy as pastor Maxwell's issues.

As we passed each other, the occupants gave me a suspicious death row look.

I gave them back even a more intimidating mafia look.

Picture it in slow motion:

The Spacio passes,

They stare at me,

I stare back as the cars cross each other.

Then the guy in the passenger seat gives me a single upward nod, I don't nod back.

Very much like that scene in the Passion of the Christ movie where Jesus and Satan lock eyes as they pass each other, obviously, in this version, I was representing Christ.

Behind the Spacio I noticed water dripping from its boot.

Now, standing in front are four village C5s demanding to search my car, everything suddenly made sense.

“Those Spacio mafias must have stolen someone’s cow!" after all they are the real mafias not the facade I was putting up"

The realization hit me harder than a slap from a powdered Lunda PS slapping his Kaonde cousin who thought increasing the dose of Johnson powder to his already ashy dusty face was a good idea.

These people will stone me first then ask questions during the funeral.

I remembered that years back I was devoted to a Japanese full contact martial art (Nippon Kempo) up to red belt.

Unfortunately, karate is very useful until you have an angry village SWAT team with farming utensils in front of you.

I asked the older guy again:
“Why exactly do you want to search my boot?”

He replied: "Tulefwaya emo imilopa ya ng'ombe yale tonaila pakupita.": “We are looking for traces of cow blood.”

Thats was when I finally looked at my accusers properly.

All four of these my Bemba cousins combined probably weighed less than me.

The tallest among them was slightly above my waist with a foot size of about 34

I violently swung the door open and jumped off the car, I could hear the suspension sigh in relief as about a 110kg had been eazied off it's tension, as that mass landed on the ground, dust arose separating from sand grains.

Sheer muscle, strength and power anchored on two solid size 46 forbidden army like boots, muscle and not fat piecing through the two holes of the black bullet proof like vest.

There i stood, one tenth of a ton towering over the savanna grass land like a CDF building project awaiting commissioning.

Immediately, two of the men disappeared into the grass faster than the honorable's promises after this week thursday.

The remaining two slowly retreated

I looked at the guy who had been abusing my car:

“Iwe, isa kuno, check for your cow blood in the car, but if you don’t find any, this car will leave with your blood in it.”

Suddenly, I heard a voice shouting from somewhere in the grass: "Imwe, butukeni, teti mumone ati uyo nichi pondo alamipaya pofye." Translated: "If you want some great Kali is ready to give you😂"

At that point, my promotion to “Chi Pondo” had officially been approved and to protect my newly acquired title, I chased one of them until he disappeared into the grass

As is well known, my Bemba cousins have a special ability to vanish into grass that is barely one metre tall, their size allows it.

Fearing that they might return with reinforcements, I decided to proceed into the village and meet the head man, a calm, respectful Bemba man, not the Lusaka type, bena Mwila and Chilufya

He explained that the village had recently lost a cow, so everyone was on high alert.

We ended up sharing a meal together and we committed that we will help supply a few medical items to their rural clinic.

The four men were called in at the end of the meeting, we were laughing like old friends.

As compensation for almost turning me into a village barbecue, they gave me a full bag of maize.

So in the end, I entered the mountains as a businessman, almost left as a suspected thief, was briefly promoted to "Chi Pondo" and returned to my room carrying free maize.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is how business works in rural areas.

09/08/2026

Dear young husband, bro

Why hasn’t your wife included your name in her social media identity?
You may say, “Bro, it’s just social media.”
Perhaps, but women naturally associate themselves publicly with what they value, esteem and feel connected to.

So, it’s not about the username. It’s about what the username may reveal about her identity.

The question is, does she naturally include you in her identity?
Because sometimes, brother, It’s not just social media. It’s an indicator of a much bigger issue.

Happy Sunday bro.

07/08/2026

Yesterday, while peacefully galavanting through the village hill roads, I stumbled upon a huge crowd. The atmosphere was electric, singing, dancing, ululating, dust everywhere. I slowed down and before I could ask what was happening there was a shout "ba Honorable baisa"
Before I could even reverse, my car was surrounded. Women were ululating, youths were chanting slogans, people were waving chitenges like I had just returned from negotiating the shepolopolo back into the tournament. I slowly disembarked, joined the celebration in the interest of unity and conformity and before I knew it, my face was already powdered and just like that, I had become the people's candidate.

From this happening it became painfully obvious that nobody actually knew who this Honorable was or what he looked like, the only sure thing about this crowd was that they had confidence in me.

About 5 minutes into the splendour, one sadist came to rob me of the glory and honour " Tamumwene ati tebo aba? efyo mukafulungana pa day yaku vota" shouted one man who came sprinting.
Translated: "blablablabalbla" simply put, he was a sadist who didn't want to see others happy or why didn't he let me busk into the glory even a little longer.

That's when common sense finally visited me. I had somewhere important I need to go, I quietly engaged first gear and left before they handed me a microphone or asked me to promise a borehole by next Friday.
I won't lie though, those five minutes as "Honorable" were glorious, the tuma songs, the chants, the es**rt, the powder, the popularity, it's addictive. Anyway,I left comforted knowing that earthly glory is short lived and mine was five minutes.

But to the actual aspiring Honorable who was waited upon, let him "throw his brain there" (aposeko amano), Honorable, five days to go and your own supporters are enthusiastically campaigning for a complete stranger because he happened to be wearing a suit.
Pa balot kumankala ba ma suits full.

06/08/2026

I don't know why you all are so determined to live in Lusaka, but out here in the rural areas, life is peaceful, quiet, and strangely addictive.

Yesterday, the management team on site (which, in this case, was me) unanimously decided that I should take the afternoon off and get some rest.
Since I'm surrounded by mountains, I figured, "Why not?" So I drove about 15 km into the mountains until I found what could easily qualify as a five-star campsite minus the Wi-Fi, room service, and anyone asking me for anything.

Feeling inspired by all the fresh air, I attempted a bit of mountain climbing and within a few minutes my body called an emergency board meeting. The verdict was unanimous: "We admire your ambition, but let's be clear, you are not 21anymore." you know when you are 21, what aches after an exercise are muscles, at my age what aches first is your chest and your heart.

One thing I genuinely love about my job is that it places me at the intersection of medical science, business, and village tourism.
One minute I'm discussing healthcare, the next I'm solving business problems, and before I know it, I'm auditioning to become the next greatest mountain GOAT.
It's an amazing combination even if my knees don't always agree.

03/08/2026

The past three weeks have seen me in and out of hospital admissions. Last week we received an emergency call of duty 7 hours from the capital.

I got out of my sick bed, loaded the truck, and we set off, with the truck trailing behind me.

About 7 hours later, we were on site in the early evening and went straight to work. Close to midnight, everyone retired to their beds. I, however, retired to a hospital bed.

The following morning, around 6, I quietly slipped out of my hospital bed and was back on site, with a cannula still in my arm. I jokingly call it my "charging port" used for recharging when life's battery runs low.

We worked until late afternoon, when it became clear that the body needed to be again on a hospital bed. That became my routine for the entire week. Some nights in the hospital, others at the lodge, what mattered was getting the work done.
At one point, I had to record a long video for my wife, convincing her not to travel to "rescue" me because, despite everything, I was still fit for service.

Today, the project stands at about 80% complete, and, thankfully, I have also recovered to about 80%.

Why am I sharing this?
If it is truly your vision, then rest only on the Sabbath or in the grave.
You have no excuse not to show up. You have no reason to give up. You have no justification to quit. You have no argument for rest and procrastination and if death comes let it find you on duty and not resting.

Keep marching soldier, sacrifice that sleep, deny yourself those meals, sale that comfort and trade the luxury, postpone that pleasure, for it is in these "behind the scenes sacrifices" where success is forged.That kind of success that makes people wonder how you did it and accuse you of satanism.