Denise Chaila on the links between her two homeplaces and the huge influence of Zambia's first president, Kenneth Kaunda, "not a freedom fighter, but the freedom fighter"
I will have written this piece many times by the time it reaches you. I will have called family for their input, discussed it with my parents and siblings and friends, consulted people close to the Kaunda family, anything to ensure I do justice to the memory and legacy of Dr Kenneth Kaunda.
How do you describe a man who makes your father's eyes light with pride and protectiveness when he speaks of him? Who your mother looked up to as a small child? Who was the face on the money your uncles and aunts used throughout their adolescence? Who is referred to globally by those of us who hail from Zambia as the Father of our nation?
Carefully I suppose. With as much sincerity as I can muster.
We need your consent to load this comcast-player contentWe use comcast-player to manage extra content that can set cookies on your device and collect data about your activity. Please review their details and accept them to load the content.Manage Preferences
From RTÉ Archives, President Kenneth Kaunda's 1964 address to the Irish people about Zambia and its need for professional people
Dr Kenneth David Kaunda, affectionately known as KK or 'The Old Man’ to his closest, was the first president of Zambia and the man who won the freedom of our nation in 1964. Not a freedom fighter, but the freedom fighter. The man who unified the tribes of Zambia post colonisation. Imagine that Michael Collins or Dr Martin Luther King was still alive. You’re on the right track.
Freedom is the lifeblood that sings within the veins of both of my homes, Ireland and Zambia. It’s why finding peace with my dual nationality hasn’t been quite as jarring as people assume it might be at times.
If you want to know the heart of a nation, listen to the anthems they sing when called to stand for their home. Some are about their supremacy, some are about their resilience, all are calls to distil their legacy into something that can be sung and lived by all of their people.
We need your consent to load this YouTube contentWe use YouTube to manage extra content that can set cookies on your device and collect data about your activity. Please review their details and accept them to load the content.Manage Preferences
Denise Chaila performs "Chaila" at Other Voices Courage at the National Gallery
If you are singing Amhrán na bhFiann, you are singing "no more our ancient sireland/ Shall shelter the despot or the slave".
If you are singing the national anthem of Zambia, you are proclaiming that you and those you sing with are "victors in the struggle for the right/ We’ve won freedom’s fight/ All one, strong and free."
Freedom. Unity. A complete rejection of the globally debilitating narrative of colonisation and grief and loss. A uniting desire to grow and thrive and live beyond the impact of plantation and cultural loss and reclaim not just language or culture; but the right to build and define or redefine yourself in the eyes of the world.
This is our aisling. The sacred dream that connects Frederick Douglass, Nelson Mandela, Éamon de Valera and Kenneth Kaunda. Three of whom walked the streets of Limerick city and raised their voices or raised hell or raised each other up as the moment demanded. Here we find our common denominator, we find our voices. Sometimes smooth and warm, sometimes bloodied and raw, singing the same song that our elders sang.
We need your consent to load this comcast-player contentWe use comcast-player to manage extra content that can set cookies on your device and collect data about your activity. Please review their details and accept them to load the content.Manage Preferences
From RTÉ Archives, footage of President Kenneth Kaunda of Zambia on a visit to Ireland in 1964 (silent footage)
So it stands to reason that when KK was considering his international policy and sought connection, he chose to ask those who would see his appeal for aid as request made amongst equals who understood his predicament. Not an invitation to be condescended to. He went to those who had been there from the start. We have a shared history. No blacks, no dogs, no Irish, right?
"The moment you have protected an individual you have protected society," Dr Kaunda once said.
And at a time when external rhetoric would seek to divide us based on our differences I think it’s valuable to remember that the safest way to protect culture and heritage is by protecting each other. Amongst those who fight to sustain their freedom, there is a shared bond. A fire, a connection, a unifying purpose. One that says "I will never be conquered again." One that says, "you are my kin because you know my pain, but you are my family because we fight together so none of us ever experience it again."
This man is the reason I’m in Ireland, but ultimately he is part of the reason I am who I am. What I am, is not alone.
We need your consent to load this rte-player contentWe use rte-player to manage extra content that can set cookies on your device and collect data about your activity. Please review their details and accept them to load the content.Manage Preferences
From RTÉ Archives, Kenneth Kaunda is awarded the freedom of Limerick in November 1964 (silent footage)
On August 22nd 2020 I was awarded the honour of being the Limerick person of the month and it was a catalyst for one if the most profound experiences I've had since I came here. I told my parents and they were proud, yes, but not because of the award alone. The moment reminded them of KK. "He was awarded the freedom of the city in 1964," my mother read from an article she had pulled on her phone. "You might be the second Zambian person ever to come to Limerick and be honoured with this kind of recognition."
I didn’t even know what that meant at the time but it sent a shock of relief and awe through me which was so breathtaking I could’ve cried. For those of you like me, being given the ‘Freedom of the City" is like being given the keys to the city.
There’s a sense of place that grounds you when you’re given permission to tie yourself to the history of a land. To know that Irish history is Zambian history and vice versa. And it’s likely not just limited to Zambia. For most of my life I’ve wrestled with the loneliness of migration. Searching for definitions of ‘home’ that would not require me to deny my experiences and relationships and unique journey in order to fit a mould- a stereotype- of what’s expected of a Zambian or an Irish person.
We need your consent to load this Spotify contentWe use Spotify to manage extra content that can set cookies on your device and collect data about your activity. Please review their details and accept them to load the content.Manage Preferences
Does belonging mean that you must have a certain accent or skin colour or religious belief? Or can it mean that you choose a city, or a country, it chooses you back. From the Locke Bar to the Regional, back to UL campus and around to the Island Field. This is the place where I came to find myself. This is the place that found me. This is the place where my elders walked.
Dr Kaunda was in Limerick in November the year we gained independence. He waved his white handkerchief and marched with people on the streets I walk. He was loquacious and it didn’t matter because his every word was received with warmth. He went to the Crescent College, where my siblings attended secondary school as he was close to the Jesuit priests who ran it. He met with de Valera and opened his speech under the Limerick coat of arms by saying he was "as much a Limerickman as any of you."
As someone who is so often challenged about their Irishness or referred to as ‘New Irish’ its beautiful to watch history tell me a story like this.
This is the story of black men and women owning their connection to this land and people without shame or apology. With no ‘claim’ but love. There’s nothing too new about us "new Irish" at all. We belong to a unique and glorious tapestry of history that doesn’t often respect our expectations. Some of these untold stories provide a foundation for our belonging that is at once inspiring and emboldening and can encourage us to keep digging for connection if we let it.
It seems strange to imagine that the man who won me my freedom is alive and resting somewhere, 97 years old. With a life and a family and hobbies that have little to do with the cataclysmic shifts he created in the lives of everyone in Zambia or in Ireland. In Limerick.
Remembering that reminds me of the power that we all have when we stop making demigods of the people we honour. When we recognise that everything they did is within our power to achieve too. They did it because their integrity didn’t demand perfection from them, it just demanded commitment and sincerity. The willingness to show up and be there.
As we are. Ordinary and extraordinary and human all at once. We are here. Together. In Joyce’s eternal present, collapsing history and our fears for the future and holding fast to the power of who we are right now. Informed by all of the stories of our elders.
Táimid anseo.
Denise Chaila's "Go Bravely" is out now. She is one of the acts appearing on Ireland in Music on RTÉ One on December 29th at 8pm
The views expressed here are those of the author and do not represent or reflect the views of RTÉ
