By: Patson N. Musenge Jnr
Flying Under Foreign Skies: The Medical Student Redefining the African Dream in Moscow
“I didn’t want to study in Zambia. Not because we do not have quality education, but I just thought there could be something better out there.”
For Nyambe, a medical student navigating her second year in Moscow, Russia wasn’t a lifelong destination; it was simply the door that swung open when others remained shut. Born and raised in Kitwe, later moving to the capital, her path abroad was paved with pivots. Rejections from the UK, the USA, and India left her searching until 2023, when an opportunity at the Peoples’ Friendship University of Russia (RUDN) materialized.
Stepping into Russia meant defying the heavy skepticism of onlookers who questioned her safety amidst global conflict. Her resolve, however, was anchored by a simple, quiet faith: other students were there, surviving and completing their degrees, so she would too. RUDN had always looked like the “dream university” from a distance: the academic equivalent of a grand Zambian wedding. She wanted to be in Moscow, and she took the leap.
The reality of that leap hit her not through cultural differences, but through the sheer shock of her first Russian winter. To compound the transition, she contracted COVID-19 during that initial freezing season.
Surviving the climate was one thing; surviving the Russian academic system was entirely another. At RUDN, Nyambe quickly discovered that student life demanded an aggressive level of independent study. Unlike the written-exam culture standard in Zambia, the Russian medical curriculum relies heavily on oral examinations.
“It is rare in Zambia where you have to go and explain to your teacher,” she notes. “But here, the majority of the exams are oral. You have to know what you are doing, you have to know what you study. It forces you to truly acquire the knowledge.”
The primary barrier to that knowledge remains the language itself. Navigating complex medical concepts in Russian pushed her to a point where, initially, understanding was replaced by pure memorization. Yet, she adapted, managing a grueling routine where post-class hours are strictly reserved for sleeping to offset the sleepless nights spent hunched over medical texts.
But Nyambe refuses to let the crushing weight of a medical degree diminish her spirit. Self-described as inherently outgoing, she has intentionally injected herself into the cultural fabric of her university.
“I am everywhere,” she laughs. “If someone is performing on stage, they look for me.”
This magnetic pull to the stage culminated in her entry into the Miss Africa competition. After a year of helping friends prepare behind the scenes, her peers pushed her to step into the spotlight herself. She wanted to put herself out there, inspired directly by the legacy of past contestants, like Rhoda Kabukabu Katulushi, the Zambian representative who claimed the crown the previous year. Nyambe entered with the quiet confidence that she could do the same, if not better.
Behind the scenes, the preparation was a chaotic, frustrating race against time. Rehearsals were plagued by incomplete dance routines, missing performance elements, and moments where no one seemed to listen. Yet, out of the stress, her team transformed into a tight-knit family.
When the curtains finally drew back, Nyambe’s performance was nothing short of audacious. Her team constructed a mock helicopter, allowing her to literally fly onto the stage for her entrance.
Her cultural presentation looked beyond national borders, aiming to unite an entire continent. Her dancers performed a meticulously choreographed routine representing the rhythms of the North, West, and East of Africa, before culminating in a powerful Zambian dance to represent the South.
Beneath the glamour of the stage and the triumph of her performance, the reality of being an African student in Russia carries quiet, heavy burdens. Beyond the persistent language barrier, Nyambe acknowledges the presence of racism, sometimes woven directly into classroom interactions.
“Sometimes the teachers do it so mildly so that other people don’t notice,” she shares. “But, yo, you just said that and I heard you. It’s there.”
She navigates these undercurrents with the same resilience that carries her through her oral exams. The displacement makes her long for home: specifically for her family, the comfort of nshima, and traditional Zambian foods. Yet, she harbors absolutely no regrets.
To the young Zambians looking toward distant horizons, her message is an urgent call to action: “Go for it. There is so much out there to learn and see. The Zambian system is good, but this experience helps us make our own systems better across so many sectors. Let’s come out here, see what we can learn, and go back to improve our country with that knowledge.”
Nyambe didn’t choose Russia to fit into a mold. Whether she is explaining a medical diagnosis to a strict professor in not-so-very fluent Russian or hovering above a crowded Moscow stage representing her heritage, she is proving that a Zambian heart can thrive under any sky.
[Picture: Nyambe Martha Mukumbuta]
Kuchalo celebrates Zambians making their mark abroad. Know someone with a story? Reach out. 🇿🇲
