Zambia

Maybe it was just luck that my bicycle tire blew out right in front of the bike repair stand in the Freedom Compound shanty town. I took that same road every time I travelled between my village and the town of Monze during my Peace Corps service in Zambia. I usually pedaled as quickly as I could through Freedom Compound in order to avoid all the beckoning calls of “Mzungu”, white person or foreigner. This time I had no choice but to stop. As soon as I slowed down I was rushed by people trying to help me. “No, no, it’s fine, I can manage myself” I told them.