By Patson N. Musenge Jnr | Kuchalo
How a Chingola Native Found His Voice in Moscow
“I never even thought I’d be in Russia.”
James Masela is from Chingola on the Copperbelt. Russia was never part of the plan. But when a scholarship opportunity appeared, he took the leap — a decision that changed everything.
Today, James is a highly regarded student leader who has served in various portfolios across multiple student bodies. He is also the published author of What I Wish I Knew As An African Child. Yet the book that defines much of his legacy almost didn’t happen.
The idea was born out of a casual conversation. After showing a short piece he had written to a friend, they posed a simple question: “Why not turn this into a book?”
At the time, James had no idea what he was signing up for.
“All I knew was typing my notes,” he reflects. “I didn’t know it goes beyond that: editing, publishing, buying copyrights, and what not.”
The resulting title came from real, lived observations. Depending on where a person is raised and the values they pick up, those elements construct exactly who they become.
While celebrating the strengths of his heritage, James isn’t afraid to challenge old mindsets. In Chapter 3, he tackles what he calls the “Respect Paradox.”
“Instead of teaching children not to speak back to adults, what if we taught them how to respond to adults?” James suggests. “That would foster curiosity. That would let kids ask more questions.”
It is a small shift, but one he believes could create a generation of young people who don’t just obey, but understand.
When asked what he most wants African children to know, his response is immediate:
“Being African is a superpower. There’s no race in the world as enduring, as persevering, or as hardworking as Africans.”
However, his concern is that too many people limit that power to a rigid, traditional standard of success: get good grades, become a doctor or an engineer, marry, and settle down.
“We are hardworking when it comes to mastering everything set, based on the African dream,” he notes. “But if we could look slightly beyond that, be more daring, and believe in ourselves more, I believe we could truly shine away from the African standard of success.”
Stepping outside that standard requires a willingness to walk alone. For James, one of the hardest lessons on his journey was learning the power of boundaries.
“In as much as we appreciate our loving culture, the togetherness, the helpfulness, sometimes the journey to success is lonely. You may need to say a lot of ‘NOs’ rather than ‘YESes.’ Most successful people learned to say a two-letter word frequently: ‘no.’ It saves you from unmerited results.”
That resilience was put to the test when James became President of the Zambian Students’ Association in Moscow.
As a third-year student tasked with leading final-year and Master’s students, his first major hurdle was simply earning the trust of his peers.
The challenges weren’t just internal. Externally, poor coordination from a few offices on the Zambian Government’s side made it incredibly difficult for students to get by, highlighting a critical need for an improved work culture.
Yet, under the biting weight of foreign skies, the student community found its own ways to survive.
When new students arrived from Zambia in the dead of winter, the association organized clothing drives, collecting spare winter boots and coats from senior students to shield newcomers from the cold. When a student fell ill, they pooled money based on sponsorship status. When someone competed in an event, the community showed up in solidarity.
To James, this collective survival is the very definition of community.
The transition to Russia was far from seamless. For a student used to pulling straight A-pluses in secondary school, the language barrier proved to be a profoundly humbling equalizer.
“I came here and settled for the bare minimum because the language was so challenging,” James confesses. “That haunted me; being a student who used to get A-pluses, now settling for the bare minimum.”
Ultimately, the struggle reshaped his entire perception of education. Realizing he was surrounded by an incredibly intelligent pool of peers, he adjusted his mindset: all it took was working extra hard.
Through that adaptation, he grew to admire the cultural pride of his hosts. Russians celebrate everything — every holiday, every achievement — safeguarding their sacred traditions across generations without losing their authenticity.
It is a level of cultural preservation James hopes Zambia can one day emulate.
To any young Zambian about to touch down in Moscow, James offers advice that is both practical and profound:
“Ask yourself: ‘Where do I want to be in four or five years?’ Then ask what you need to do to get there. This is your chance to build a character that will sustain you after university. Your academic qualifications are key to most job opportunities. But your personality and the values you build as a person will keep you there.”
As for what lies ahead, another book is likely on the horizon within the coming year. Beyond that, James is focusing on personal branding and dreaming of launching community work aimed strictly at the youth.
“Building confidence. Building drive. Building curiosity in young people. That’s where it all starts,” he says. “I don’t plan to do it if only old people are involved. I want to start with the young.”
He admits he is still learning and still growing, but the groundwork is already laid.
And for a young man from Chingola who never imagined he would end up in Russia, that’s not a bad place to be.
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