Why I love my African skirt.

The chant for APRA* is: One Africa, One APRA, One APRA, One Africa.

Earlier this week while travelling in Lusaka, Zambia, I went exploring. There is something energising and healing to be under the African sky, especially if that sky is bright blue and the sun blazing down. And, as an added elixir, an air of peace, calm and tolerance.

When abroad, I refuse to have international roaming on my phone after receiving an eye watering bill years ago when I was heading to Milan via Dubai. I therefore knew that access to wi-fi and ordering a Yango (Uber equivalent) would be limited to get me from place to place on my day of explorations. Making sure that I was wearing comfortable walking shoes, sun screened and had a bottle of water, I was set to tackle the day.

First stop, the Freedom Statue. From there, a quick check on Google maps (luckily you don’t need the internet to check your location) helped me to head in the direction of the Soweto Market, a recommendation from the taxi driver who collected me from the airport over the weekend.

Heading to the market, there are several other markets on route, bustling with people, shoulder to shoulder, often no room to pass, you just have to go with the crowd; no backing out, you have to just move forward. Go with the flow. The people of Zambia are incredibly friendly, and peaceful, no underlying aggression or tension. I can’t image that I would ever head into a local market on my own in the middle of a township in South Africa, which is rather sad.

As with any market, you can pretty much buy everything imaginable. The two main commodities by the looks of it: second hand clothing, acres and acres of the world’s second-hand clothing and fresh food. Almost every stall has a small megaphone that is plugged into a recording blaring out at full volume the cost of their items. Before the trip, I manged to rupture an eardrum, so in this instance being slightly hearing impaired was a blessing, but the other ear took strain.

There were also a number of stalls selling beautiful African material. At Mama Fasi’s stall my eye fell on a blue patterned piece of material. It was incredibly reasonably priced (I should have bought more material!). After confirming that it wasn’t made in China, but from Tanzania, I asked Mama Fasi, tongue in cheek, if there was perhaps someone who would be able to make me a skirt with it? Anticipating a ‘are you insane? no, not here’, she said, yes! Just around the corner! 

And there, right next to her shop, in the small corridor, was a lady sitting behind her old Singer sewing machine, willing to make me a skirt while I wait. Mama Fasi cleared a wooden bench for me to sit on. (I didn’t want to venture too far as I wasn’t sure that I would find my way back again, and by that time I was a bit marketed~out. There I sat listening to the megaphones chanting, while Destiny, all the way from the Congo, sewed up a storm.

Three of the vendors opposite Mama Fasi’s stall had their lunch in the corridor and invited, no actually insisted, that I join their meal of nshima (pap), chibwabwa (pumpkin leaves mixed with peanuts) and peri-peri chicken. I had bought peanuts earlier in the day which I was able to contribute to this feast.

Destiny did a marvellous job of making the skirt! It even has pockets!

A skirt made in Zambia, by a lady from the Congo, using material from Tanzania, bought by a South African, a truly African skirt!

The skirt isn’t 100% perfect but, the imperfection is perfect. It’s absolutely marvellous, beautiful, comfortable and the pockets a wonderful surprise. To me, this one garment, represents the fabric of Africa in so many ways, Africa isn’t perfect, but it is absolutely marvellous, beautiful, versatile and it will surprise you in wonderful ways, it is home.

We are all one Africa.

[*APRA = African Public Relations Association, and I’m here in Lusaka, Zambia presenting the research that Reputation Matters did on the state of ethics and PR landscape in Africa at their annual conference.]