Freedom!

Recently, as Americans observed a national holiday, Memorial Day, so did citizens of dozens of other countries observe a national holiday. Americans remembered those who died to secure their freedom, while Africans, continent-wide, celebrated their freedom from colonial masters.

Three weeks into our month-long swing through Zam’s Western, Central, and Lusaka Provinces, we found ourselves in the capital, Lusaka—on Africa Freedom Day. The city was relatively sleepy that morning, Lusakans apparently taking the liberty of sacking in. As my colleagues and I ran some errands, it occurred to me that this might be an opportunity to get a closer look at the “Freedom Statue” we’d driven by so many times when passing through Lusaka.

By the time we arrived at the statue, the Zambian president, Rupiah Banda, had already come for a wreath-laying ceremony, and gone. The first time I’d seen the statue, an image of a big, muscular, bare-chested man breaking free from the chains that bound him (Zambians call him "Ma Cheni, Ma Cheni," one breaking free from his chains) it was obvious that it was somehow tied up with the concept of freedom. Now, up close, any doubt about this was quickly resolved by the block letters—F R E E D O M—emblazoned on its base. The monument had a satiny, black sheen, and appeared to be supported by the strings of triangular flags strewn from it, the kind you see flapping in the breeze at car dealerships. The colors—green, copper, black, and red—borrowed from the Zambian flag, signify Zambia’s rich land, copper, people, and the blood the people shed for their freedom.

The monument stands in the midst of a green, close cut lawn, fenced in at the foot a Chinese-built Zambian government building. Hundreds of children laughed, screamed, and frolicked on the grass around the statue. When I began taking some “snaps” (as Zambians say) of the statue, it was as if a magnet lured those kids in front of my camera—jumping, smiling, shouting, and waving. When I stood before the statue for my colleague to snap me however, those children closed in on me like a rugby scrum, grabbing my arms and legs, jumping on my back. It was like a family get-together with my nieces and nephews, or a mugging! My Zambian colleague-photographer would have none of this, either concerned for my safety or about getting a more dignified snap! He sternly reprimanded the children, commanding them to stand back; he appointed one young boy as “captain,” to restrain the others. After one such “appeasement snap,” I told him it was okay for the kids to gather round.

What freedom children have in their innocence. I noticed this while in the Western Province. Visiting a headmistress at an elementary school, I was introduced to a first and second grade class—and snapped them. Free as birds even in their crisp blue school uniforms, they jostled and jockeyed for position in front of my lens—fresh faces, all bright eyes and beautiful white teeth.
Their raucous laughter crescendoed to cheers and screams at the burst of the camera’s flash. My colleague urged me to stop, saying I was causing “pandemonium.” Pandemonium. For some reason that word made me laugh, maybe because it was true, but nevertheless this was a pandemonium borne of childish innocence. Rich or poor, everywhere I’ve been in the world children are innocently free, at least they look and sound that way.

Back at the Freedom Statue, as we were leaving, scads of children followed me, clinging to my shirt and pants, holding my hands, grabbing my legs, and patting my back. In that moment I felt joy, and sadness—joy for the obvious reasons, and sadness, at first, because I wondered how many of them were so eager to touch me because they’d been conned into believing that it’s good luck to touch a muzungu. Moments later though, I was told that many of these were homeless, “street kids” possibly high from sniffing glue. How free then, were they, really?
I thought more about freedom. Am I free? What I am free from? What am I free for? What am I doing with my freedom? I thought about what Paul meant when he said “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery” (Galatians 5:1). Got freedom? Real freedom?