My Pal Nshimbi

Laban Nshimbi was the first person that I ever met from my community when we attended a Peace Corps training event called “The Host Workshop” in April 2012.

It was just days before I would head to my village and I remember he was bursting with energy and smiles. He was so excited to meet me. I instantly liked him.

Look at this guy... how could you not like that smile instantly.

From that first day, some 700-plus days in this village, we’ve been the closest of friends.

I probably can’t go three minutes talking about my Peace Corps service here in Zambia without mentioning the name of Nshimbi.

We’ve had ups and downs — like when we were lost in a swamp miles from home — and sometimes with each other as true friends occasionally will.

But through it all I’ve come out of it with a great friend. As he says, “We work hand in hand together.” We also laugh together, get frustrated together, wonder what the crazy woman down the trail is babbling about together and continuously learn from one another.

Nshimbi does most of his work on his own.  He was the only other bachelor in the village aside from myself.   Throughout my two years he kept up his work ethic and it paid impressive dividends, as seen here with his corn and bean fields.

He’s been the focus of many of my articles in the past, as well as a source of information for many more. I’ve relied on him far more than I ever could have imagined and probably more than I should have.

But through these two years he’s been happy to help. For all the articles involving him I give him a laminated copy and, inside his hut, hang his Battle Creek Enquirer clippings — about six in all.

He asked me once when I was looking at them, “Am I famous now in your country? At least well known?” I had to tell him he wasn’t famous like a movie star, but he was, in fact, important because without him, my time here would’ve been vastly different, vastly less rewarding.

This photo is from the first day that we ever tested our bicycle plow.  He really helped me in my work to promote this tool throughout my two years.  Without his interest it would've been a much more uphill battle to demonstrate it among local farmers.

Together, Nshimbi and I have worked on a lot. We’ve dug fish ponds together; tried revolutionizing African agriculture though our bike plows; and planted enough trees to have national forests.

But, to me, the fish ponds were the most fulfilling. They were tangible. We could touch them. And while people said fish farming was impossible in our area, Nshimbi proved them all wrong with not one, but two ponds.

Done in five weeks each and with a design of his own, they’re all producing fish now, which translates to food and money for him. The man constantly amazes me.

One day he came to me and said he was starting a company. I laughed thinking it was a joke. Turns out it wasn’t. He had officially registered a company with the Zambian government: Kamabuta Designing and Recycling Enterprises.

His company takes discarded trash from other people and makes doormats and electrical strips for charging solar panels so they can plug multiple items in at once.

It’s been amazing to see all this happen, but maybe the most important service that Nshimbi provides me is seeing the world through another person’s eyes.

This photo was taken on my last day in the village.  Nshimbi was one of two people that waited hours and hours with me until a bus came to pick me up.  Classic Nshimbi - doing more to help me than most would.

I’ve been lucky to have someone so near that can converse openly and frankly, in English, about life here. I see village life from my perspective as an American and also from his — someone who has lived it his whole life.

I don’t have much longer here in Makiya Village with my good friend Nshimbi — or “Shim” for short — but I’ve had a lifetime’s worth of laughs and learning already.

Like most of the people I’ve come to know here, Nshimbi has given me far more than I’ll ever possibly give him. Long after I leave here I know I’ll think of him and wonder how he’s doing, where he is, if he’s lost in that swamp again.

It’s unfortunate that the experience has to come to an end. I did make him one promise: “If I ever make money from writing about my time living here I’ll use some of the money to fly you to the United States and show you my home, my country.”

I’d like to show him the Great Lakes, the Grand Canyon, the redwoods, the cities and so much more. Maybe then I can start giving back to a friend who has given me so much.