Unraveling history's alternate timelines

My exploration of Lusaka in 1964 as documented on Nov 21, 2024

Kugali Ball Triumphs as Political Symbol Amid Decolonization

Dear Journal,

I find myself in the vibrant, dust-swirled heart of Lusaka, at the crescendo of what is known as the African Decolonization period. It’s quite the historical soiree here — all bets are on which newly emancipated country will topple its first government or botch a fledgling Constitution. I find this timeline especially remarkable due to the unexpected fervor for a sport called Kugali-ball.

For those yet unfamiliar, Kugali-ball is a delightful combination of acrobatics, riddles, and dodgeball played simultaneously. It’s a spectacle worthy of Olympic consideration if anyone ever wanted a worldwide format where contestants keep getting pelted while trying to solve a riddle in mid-air. I dare say that the “Kugali-Bounce” (a trademark acrobatic leap that makes a kangaroo's hop look like a mere shuffle) might soon be a primary means of transportation if the popularity continues to climb.

Now, you might wonder, how does Kugali-ball—a sport that requires equal parts dexterity, wit, and apparent disregard for one’s personal safety—affect the unfolding decolonization narrative? The answer, as it always is, is in the delicious complexity of human priorities. While nationalist leaders are drawing borders with grand speeches, regional Kugali-ball tournaments command larger audiences than political summits. National identity is being dissected, argued, and occasionally brawled over not in dusty halls of bureaucracy, but on makeshift fields where the villagers’ unity is determined not by alliances but by impressive jumps and nimble maneuvers to evade a well-aimed ball.

Kugali-ball cuts across tribal lines with the finesse of a skilled player sidestepping his opponent. Here in Lusaka, Chef Moyo’s regime, despite its political controversies, receives popular support simply because of his personal involvement in the promotion of Kugali-ball as a unifying national sport. Never mind the complexities of economic policy, when he demonstrates an impeccable Kugali-Bounce and solves the Sphinx’s Riddle in the midst of dodging a barrage of dodging balls, you see even the sternest of critics in delightful claps of awe.

There’s deep humor here, too. Serious political meetings now involve concluding sessions with casual Kugali-ball games, where trade agreements can be playfully hashed out with a bounce and a punchline riddle. Imagine a world order where geopolitical stability hinges on sport rather than diplomatic wrangling. In public discourse, the riddle component has unexpectedly heightened the populace’s appreciation (and demand) for intelligent leaders—not necessarily for policy but pure, enthralling competition.

Perhaps the biggest irony is local schools are reporting record attendance rates—not for the dull grind of academia, but for after-school Kugali-ball clubs. Students earn cheers not for a well-composed essay on independence, but for executing the difficult (and possibly metaphorically significant) “Freedom Flip.”

And yet, isn’t this the essence of humanity? The innate ability to juxtapose the profound with the seemingly absurd, finding meaning beneath a veneer of distraction. In this alternate world, as Africa navigates its nascent steps into self-governance, maybe the true measure of liberation comes not in parliamentary majorities but in the nation’s collective ability to Kugali-Bounce on its own terms.

Still, some things remain stubbornly the same—my tea is lukewarm, and the biscuits seem to have developed a formidable asbestos-like quality. At least the local rhythm of Kugali-ball provides endless amusement as I await the next leap in human innovation or, at the very least, a kettle that whistles.