WAS CATHERINE KAUMBA HER REAL NAME?
NEVER judge a book by its cover, so advises the famous old adage. But four of my colleagues and I at the Zambia High Commission in Pretoria, South Africa, probably forgot about this noble advice and paid heavily for it - by being made to pay, from our own pockets, a huge hotel bill for a “stranded” Zambian beauty who turned out to be a conwoman!
I was relaxing at my home in Waterkloof, a plush suburb south east of Pretoria, that Sunday afternoon in July, 2009, when I received a telephone call from my High Commissioner, Mr Leslie Mbula, instructing me to get a driver and rush to Oliver Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg.
He said there was a Zambian woman from the United States who was stranded at the airport and I should go and find out what assistance we could give as a Mission.
Weekends were officially non-working days at the Mission but we had worked out an arrangement whereby there was always an officer and a driver available on standby to attend to emergencies during these periods. It was under this arrangement that the High Commissioner instructed me to attend to the stranded woman’s case.
Within an hour, I was at O.R. Tambo International Airport Police Post. I introduced myself at the Inquiries Office and the woman calling herself Catherine Kaumba was presented to me. She was dark in complexion, very pretty with long dark hair and wearing a jeans suit.
“Young lady, my name is Philip Chirwa from Zambia High Commission in Pretoria,” I said. “We understand you need our assistance. What is it?” I asked.
“Mr Chirwa, it’s a long story. I have heard so much about crime in South Africa but never in my wildest dreams did I think taxi drivers could be involved in such vices until today,” she started, giving way to tears. I calmed her down, assuring her that I was there to sort out her problem, whatever it was.
According to her, she was a Zambian student residing in the United States. Her parents were living in Virginia with four of her
“Mr Chirwa, it’s a long story. I have heard so much about crime in South Africa but never in my wildest dreams did I think taxi drivers could be involved in such vices until today,” she started, giving way to tears. I calmed her down, assuring her that I was there to sort out her problem, whatever it was.
siblings – her father, Mr Joseph Kaumba, was a civil engineer running his own business in Virginia and her mother a matron at a local hospital. She said her family had lived in the USA for over 15 years but that despite that, they did not forget their roots.
To this end, she said, her parents had made sure that all their children learnt to speak their mother tongue, Lunda, from the North-Western Province, as well as Nyanja and Bemba. “So I can speak the three languages fluently, even better than those living in Zambia,” she bragged with a chuckle.
And to prove it, she spoke some sentences in Lunda, Nyanja and Bemba. Although I couldn’t vouch for her in terms of her fluency in Lunda since I did not understand the language, I thought her Nyanja and Bemba were flawless. Also her appearance looked typically Zambian, so I had no reason to doubt her claim to Zambian citizenship.
Meanwhile, as if to erase any doubts that she was living in the United States of America, Catherine suddenly broke into what I considered a typical American accent. She was to use this accent throughout the subsequent interview with me. She said she was in a group of students from an American university which had an exchange programme with a South African university.
“My colleagues arrived here two days ago. I only arrived from Washington D.C. this morning because I missed my original flight. My university,
which is the University of Virginia, has a cultural exchange programme with the University of Johannesburg.
Last year, a group of South African students from the university visited the States and we took them around famous places within the Washington D.C., Virginia and Maryland areas. We even took them to the
White House.
“It is now our turn to reciprocate that visit. There are 37 of us from the States and, according to the programme, we are to be taken on conducted tours of famous places within the Gauteng and Cape Town areas, including the Union Building in Pretoria, Mandela’s old home in Soweto, the Kruger National Park in Limpopo and the Cape Point, the Cape of Good Hope and Robben Island in the Western Cape. Oh my God, I will now miss these world famous places!”
At this point, my guest broke into sobs again. I allowed her to cool down, then she continued:
“Before leaving home, my mum had warned me to ensure that I kept things in one place to reduce the risk of losing them. It was because of her advice that after clearing myself through the customs and things, I put all my documents, including my Zambian passport which I had obtained through the Zambian Embassy in Washington D.C, in one suitcase which also contained all my clothes.
“I then went to the taxi rank and got into this taxi. The driver was a young man probably in his mid-30s. I gave him a piece of paper bearing details of the
hotel where he was supposed to take me. He said he knew the place very well and that it was not very far from the airport. On the way, he greeted me and asked me where I was coming from.
When I told him I was from the States, he looked surprised, saying that he thought I was a Nigerian or something.
“I just laughed because I didn’t think I looked like a Nigerian. Anyway, we continued talking, him telling me about life in South Africa and me telling him about life in the States.
Then I realised I needed to visit the loo so I asked the driver to stop at any nearest filling station.
“Shortly afterwards, we stopped at this filling station. I got out of the taxi and went into the loo. I didn’t stay long there. Imagine my shock and utter disbelief when I got out of the loo to find the taxi gone! When I asked the petrol attendants where the taxi had gone, all of them said they just saw him drive off. I literally cried like a baby, not knowing what to do. All my things were in that suitcase and they were gone just like that!”
“What a tragedy, “I chipped
in sympathetically. “So what did you do after that?
Here you were, everything taken away from you. How then did you find yourself back at the airport?”
“A good Samaritan felt pity on me and offered to take me back to the airport so that I could seek the assistance of the police. God bless that man. I just don’t know what I would have done without him. I also thank the police for making it possible for me to communicate with my embassy,” she said.
I told her from the outset that the Mission had no mandate to send her back to the United States because there was no parliamentary vote (budget) for such things. “We can give you a travel document to travel to Zambia so you can obtain a replacement passport from the Passport Office in Lusaka but your parents or other relatives have to send you transport money for that,” I said.
She assured me that that could not be a problem – that once she phoned her parents, they would send the money immediately for her travel to Zambia. “I have an uncle in Lusaka. I can go and live with him for the time being until I get my passport,” she said, after which we started off for Pretoria so that we could use my office land line to call her parents.
Meanwhile, as we drove from Johannesburg to Pretoria, I called four of my colleagues at the Mission, Mr Ndumba, who was responsible for immigration matters; Mr Litana (administration), Mr Cheelo (tourism) and Mr Nshikokola (Finance), to meet me at the Chancery so that we could brainstorm how to deal with the young woman’s case. I thought it wouldn’t be appropriate to interview such a pretty young woman like her in my office alone.
(TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY….)