Mukupa Writes

By Linda Mupemo Hey people! It has been forever, group hug! Group hug!! Oh well, I do not really know who is reading this. But hey, with an audience of one or a thousand, the show must go on.  The thing is I am already in Easter mode. You know the bringing dead things back to life type of mode? Yup! So I thought of channeling some of this energy towards breathing life into the skeletons of my blog. Breathe oh blog! Breathe!!!  I never even got to share my hair experience with castor oil hey, but  I am back now. And I will write all about that soon enough. You know how we make plans especially when you are in your final year of study? Like I just want to ace these examinations, get my degree, find a stable source of income and settle in one of the urban areas. Then bammmm! Reality hits you.  Let me just say God has a sense of humour. He has this funny but fulfilling way of unleashing me into my destiny.  So, I am out here in one...

At this time and age, technology has evolved and so have modes of transportation and communication. To find a town that is completely secluded from these advanced services is not only shocking, but also heartbreaking. Yet this is the reality that people of Bwalya-Mponda have been living with since time immemorial. The town is located 87 kilometers away from Samfya district in Luapula province. It is one of the few swamps found around Lake Bangweulu. The people who live there are Unga by tribe. As the town is waterlogged, the main mode of transportation used is water transport. Dugout canoes are the commonest vessels used. I first went there with my mother, Mary Mutoni, in 2004. She hails from that swamp. I had jitters when it was time to get into the canoe. I was actually the last to get into it. It was a hair- raising experience. I slowly put my legs into the dugout canoe and sat very close to my mother like I could suddenly drown if I sat far from her. There were nin...

By Linda Mupemo The decision by the University of Zambia Students Union (UNZASU) to initiate a boarding house harmonisation project is welcome as many students are being exploited by boarding house landlords in the name of providing them with accommodation near campus. The University of Zambia has been gripped with the accommodation crisis for many years now. Some landlords near the university premises have seen this as a business opportunity as they have turned their houses into boarding houses where students rent bed spaces at a fee decided by the landlord. At the moment, there are over 10 boarding houses for both females and males around UNZA. The initiative is commendable and very helpful to students coming from places as far as Mpulungu who are not accommodated on campus. However, some landlords have taken advantage of the situation and are exploiting students by making them pay huge amounts of money for bed spaces in houses that are in deplorable states. The living...

Long, thick and shiny hair is the desire of almost every woman. Note the word 'almost' because some people   like it short, kinky, while others, well, go locks. Whatever hair length and type one has, the important thing is keeping it healthy. My sisters and I have had long hair since forever. We are fortunate enough   my mother's long-black-hair genes rubbed on us the right way.  My sister, Pamela Mupemo, on the left and I on the right The fact that I've always had long hair made me shun caring for it. I have never applied   my scalp with any necessary hair nutrients. I always thought to myself, "my hair is already long so why bother myself with buying hair products ?" All I have ever done is plait it (weaves and braids), un plait, blow it (at whatever degree of heat), let it breathe for a week or two, plait again and the circle continues. Through it all, the only product my scalp has ever come in contact with is vaseline, Baby Care to be specif...

By Linda Mupemo  At this juncture, heaven does not feel so close. Knocking but all the doors seem closed. My cries are seemingly more silent than the footsteps of an ant. My life is darker than a moonless night, So dark that the sun seems dimmer than a spark between two rubbing needles. I put my prayer on, all I get are boomerangs. My friends getting blessed, I watch in admiration as men of God deliver heavenly messages to them. I keep wondering when I will receive mine. The more I try to calm the storm, the more my boat sinks. I breathe life into the skeletons that have amassed around me,  My oxygen is seemingly just another death pill. I am slowly running out of my mustard-seed faith. I am on the verge of giving up his will.  But there is a voice inside me telling me to be still. Lost my family, dignity, wealth and everything else I worked so hard for. And you expect me to be still?  ...

By Linda Mupemo Welcome to the 21 st century where the core values of yesterday are the trash principles of today. Christianity has not emerged a cherry on the cake in this edited generation! Each time I permit my medulla to process a thought about who a Christian is, their life and their call, A rather formidable feeling grips my soul so I endorse two new words: Sundians and Saturdians because people now approach Christianity like an outfit for a date, only to impress and adore what we see. The rest of the days are party days, Saturdays and Sundays are the only holy days. Camouflaged in hypocritical personalities on service days, yet naughty all way Indulging in illicit activities with the notion of repenting later on church days, absurd! I call them Sundians and Saturdians, yeah and the truth must be heard! Pretending is not compulsory like the vowels are present in every word So I wonder if everybody is as holy as they portray themselves on social network...

By Linda Mupemo The curtain is slowly closing, wrapping up this phase. The crowd is still clapping, right time to leave the stage. We both know the story is ending, playing our parts but just faking. The love is already gone, no use faking what we are not feeling. As I say the last line of this beautiful love story, pain is pricking every inch of my soul. As I say the words we both dread to hear, my heart is shattered to the core. But I would rather take a bow than watch us drain our emotions in an endless war. From being the sugar in my tea, you turned into the pus in my wounded heart. The pus ripened and left around it an excruciating crust. No energy left within me, it’s time I put an end to this emotional dart. We have to celebrate what was and forget about what can or would be. We learnt our lessons and have a clear picture of how our next scripts should be. We can continue loving each other separately, forever my love you shall be. Goodbye my darli...