On my drive to work each day, I pass an old and crowded cemetery, known locally as the “Old Leopards Hill Cemetery.”  Graves are crowded together in what seems to be a haphazard fashion.  Markers are made of slate or even wood.  There are no real roads or even pathways amongst the graves. 

Funerals are big here in Zambia, and at least once or twice a week, I will see a large group of mourners gathered in this place, standing amidst the dirt and the dust.  But a new cemetery is being developed, literally right in the middle of the old one.  Called “Leopards Hill Memorial Park” it is privately owned and purports to “offer world class facilities and a tranquil final resting place.”  The front page of their website states “Rest in Peace – FINALLY.”  It is apparently going to be quite a comprehensive cemetery with a “full range of burial products.”

Read more about it HERE.

Today I drove into the park to have a look around.  There is an imposing entrance, a guardhouse and a group of solid-looking headstones near the front gate.

Most of the cemetery is still “under construction” but it is not an unattractive place.  There are wide swaths of open field and some new graves scattered here and there – some covered with mounds of flowers.  There are also some headstones set under the trees.

As I walked further into the park, I saw what looked at first like a set-up for a wedding and wondered if the park was doing double-duty.  As I got closer, I realized it was for a funeral…obviously a big one, as the large monument was covered in white cloth as if for an unveiling and there were several large tents and canopies set up, along with a portable podium and sound system.  I asked the groundskeeper about it and he told me that it was a memorial service for a former member of Parliament who had died last year.   (I made sure it was okay to take pictures!)

Across the park, I could see another, less elaborate, pavilion set up for a service, with the family getting out of a car and a long stream of mourners walking down the path to the site. 

Walking back to my car, I noticed fruit trees here and there.  At first I thought they were apples.  Perfectly round, green fruits with a hard shell, about the size of a grapefruit.  Some had fallen on the ground and there were dried husks lying around.  I took one and cracked it open to see what it was.  Another groundskeeper saw me and I asked him what they were.  He told me they were a fruit called “mazhanje” and he showed me how to eat it.  The pulp inside is actually many small pits – you scoop it out with your fingers and suck the pulp off and then spit out the pit.  It was delicious….sweet and juicy; like nothing I had tasted before.

When I got home, I looked it up…I THINK the fruit is an Uapaca kirkiana or sugar plum, although the picture on the Wikipedia page did not look quite like the trees I saw.  It is an indigenous fruit and grows wild.  They do not cultivate it, but allow the trees to remain when ground is developed.  I have never seen them in stores or markets; apparently they are a big favorite with the locals.

This weekend, the tenants in the flat next to mine had a big barbecue in the common backyard and invited everyone in the surrounding flats to come.  Apparently these weekend barbecues were a regular thing last year, but this was the first one since I have been here.  It was attended by a large number of ex-pats, mostly in their 20s and 30s and most of them working for some service organisation or other.   (These service organisations are called “NGOs” for “Non-Governmental Service Organisation.”)

And they were from all over the world, too…some Americans, but also folks from Spain, Holland, France, Venezuela and several other countries.  There were also folks from Zambia; some were service workers as well and some boyfriends/girlfriends of the ex-pats at the party.

The three little girls who are daughters of the on-site manager were also invited.  They had made (with help from one of the girls who lives next door to me) a delicious chocolate mousse.  This was devoured within 15 minutes of being put out on the table.  Other folks had brought offerings such as cous-cous salad, baba ghanoush, some kind of spicy popcorn, fresh pineapple with rum and mint and other kinds of salads and side dishes.

But the real deal was the meat.  The huge grill was filled with charcoal and after the coals had turned to embers, piled with meat of all kinds.  Marinated ribs, sausages, steak, pork, chicken, shrimp…there was even a kind of cheese that could be grilled.  Unlike a typical picnic where the meat is eaten along with the rest of the food, this was like a separate meat course.  Good thing, too, as there was no room on the plate for such things as salad.

A lively game of Beer Pong was set up and played with great gusto throughout the evening.  I was informed that the red Solo cups being used were “regulation” and had actually been shipped over from the states.  Over near the pool, a more sedate game of Jenga was taking place.  The little girls darted in and out, always somehow having a full plate of food.

It was fun talking to everyone about where they’d come from and where they’d been.  After a few hours, I went back to my flat, but the party continued into the night and I could hear the laughter and the cheers from the Beer Pong game for quite some time.