Dear Editor,
I have lived in England for nearly three decades now, but not a single day passes without my thoughts drifting back home to Zambia.
No matter how comfortable life becomes abroad, the heart never truly leaves the place where it first learned to beat.
These days I follow every development back home with keen interest. The political atmosphere ahead of the August 13 elections reminds me that democracy remains alive, even if opinions differ sharply.
Equally emotional has been following the burial of former President Edgar Lungu. Whatever one’s political persuasion, such moments remind us that leaders eventually become part of our shared national history.
I also keep a close eye on the economy. Like many Zambians in the diaspora, I celebrate every sign of progress but worry whenever the cost of living rises because my relatives still feel the pinch.
Every month, when I send money home, I am reminded that the fortunes of our families are tied to the fortunes of our country.
Sometimes I find myself longing for the Zambia of my youth. Those were the glorious days when Kalusha Bwalya dazzled football fans with his magical touch.
Watching the national team was more than sport—it was a national celebration. Every victory united us, regardless of tribe or political affiliation. We all proudly wore the green jersey.
I also miss the era of President Kenneth Kaunda. Whether one agreed with all his policies or not, KK embodied a spirit of unity, humility and patriotism that still inspires many Zambians scattered across the globe.
Perhaps my strongest memories are from my days at the University of Zambia. UNZA was more than a place of learning; it was a melting pot of ideas, friendships and lifelong dreams.
We debated politics late into the night, survived on little money, borrowed lecture notes from friends and somehow always found enough money for a bottle of Chibuku after exams. Those simple moments remain among the happiest of my life.
Living in England has given me opportunities I may never have found at home, but it has also taught me that there is no substitute for one’s roots.
Zambia is more than a country—it is the smell of the first rains, the laughter of neighbours, the sound of market traders and the warmth of people who treat strangers like family.
I remain hopeful that Zambia’s best days are still ahead. Though miles separate me from home, my heart will always beat to the rhythm of our beautiful nation.
Yours faithfully,
Musonda
Sussex
England