I found myself in quite an unusual setting on the first Saturday of November 2019. It was the first official meeting of the Humanists and Atheists of Zambia, a new organisation, taking place in a non-descript lodge in a suburb of Lusaka. A highlight for me was one speaker’s presentation on her experience of parenting as an atheist in Zambia. There were various other discussions and presentations on the topic of religion and non-belief, as well as a general knowledge and history quiz. As it happens, I scored the highest points in the quiz and my prize was two books by Yuval Noah Harari, Sapiens and Homo Deus. Whether I finished reading them is another story…
But that Saturday was the first time in my life, having been an atheist for over a decade and having spent most of my three decades in Zambia, that I experienced anything close to a sense of community in Zambia. I recall one attendee saying he had no idea that there were other people in Zambia who held the same beliefs, or lack thereof, as him.
When I lived in Ghana, I was able to find an atheist and humanist community which enriched my experience of living there. As a student heading to Australia for university, I was relieved to be going to a country where I knew my religion wouldn’t matter as much as it does here, and I could freely express my non-belief. I knew I would meet a lot of people who identified as atheist, agnostic, non-religious, and secular humanist. Furthermore, even though most people in Australia identified as “religious,” there was much more religious diversity than here in Zambia.
Walking into the meeting that November day, I found it already underway. I grabbed a seat and scanned the room. In the days before this gathering, I wondered what the racial, gender, and class mix would be. It turned out to be mostly black Zambians and mostly males but with several women in attendance. I didn’t get to mingle with everyone but got the impression that most people there were middle class.
Wherever you look across Zambian society, you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who openly identifies as atheist, agnostic, non-religious, or secular humanist. This is, after all, “a Christian nation.” The country’s constitution clearly says so and you can always count on someone to utter the phrase “Zambia is a Christian nation” in every other conversation. Often within a few minutes of meeting someone, they will probably ask you which church you attend. Christianity is the default and there is no consideration that you may be something else.
This assumption can lead to some funny moments, particularly with men who use their religion to hit on me. There have been a few times that, in a bid to impress me, a man has told me that God spoke to him and said that I’m meant to be his wife. Then there are the men who make sure they insert Bible verses in between their pick-up lines.
There are others who will make sure they tell you that they went to church last Sunday and give you a summary of what the preacher said. Beaming, they then ask if they can have your number or ask when they can see you again. The men in these scenarios have no idea how amusing the situation is for me and how much their virtue signalling hasn’t helped their cause. But I cannot blame them completely. Ask any number of Zambians what they want in a partner and the words “God-fearing” will inevitably come up.
Fast forward to a few months after the meeting and I met a few friends for dinner. They also happened to be atheists. At some point during the meal, they mentioned that they’d heard rumours of some kind of atheist meetup. As far as they were concerned, the rumours were false. They were then surprised to hear that not only did the event take place, but that I’d been in attendance. When they saw a post on social media giving details of the meeting, they felt that even if it was genuine, attending would be too risky, stupid even. With details of the meeting floating around, they wondered why I had been so confident that no one would disrupt the meeting, be it individuals or even the government through the Ministry of National Guidance and Religious Affairs.
I did see one post on Facebook imploring the Ministry of National Guidance and Religious Affairs to stop the meeting. Clearly this did not happen but, speaking of the same ministry, its very existence shows that there is no separation of church and state in Zambia. Religion, Christianity especially, is woven into every facet of public and private life.
The ministry was established by the current government; the same government that created a new public holiday, the National Day of Fasting and Prayer, in response to Zambia’s economic woes. The ministry is best known for banning South African dancer Zodwa Wabantu from performing in Zambia because she performs without underwear. However, the ministry denies this version of events. It has also spoken out on issues such as homosexuality, the rate of divorce, the imposition of a dress code as a supposed solution to rape and child molestation, sex dolls, and women posting semi-nude photos online. However calls from the public for the ministry to speak out on corruption in government have consistently fallen on deaf ears.
Now, neither the ministry nor any other government entity is arresting people for their religious beliefs, however there is still some unease that comes with being a non-believer in Zambia. That’s why the two atheist friends I had dinner with felt that even if there was to be another atheist gathering (there hasn’t been), they would never attend. It’s still too risky a prospect for them – fear of overzealous Christians (or even the ministry) taking over the meeting, or harm being done to their social standing and job prospects if word got out that they had been in attendance.
And that is one major difference between being a Christian in Zambia and being a non-believer. The former’s belief system is fully supported by wider society, the constitution, and government. Christians can freely attend church, prayer meetings, religious conferences, and Bible studies without a second thought. Meanwhile, the Humanists and Atheists of Zambia organisation struggled for a while to find a lodge willing to allow them to use their facilities. It was only when the organisers said the event was for “humanists” rather than “atheists” (apparently a less intimidating word), did they finally find a location to hold their meeting.
Months later, I ‘met’ a fellow Zambian atheist in the comments section of a Facebook post. We eventually met in person and shared our experiences of being non-religious women in Zambia. It was a reminder, not that I ever needed one, that there are atheists, agnostics, and secular humanists in Zambia seeking to connect with people like them. Of course, it’s difficult in an environment where you feel you can’t openly express your non-belief.
To be perfectly honest, I even considered writing this piece under a pseudonym. But to be atheist in Zambia is to simultaneously want to be seen, recognised, acknowledged while also wanting to remain in the shadows until a time when you feel it is truly safe to come out.
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Hi Jo! A wonderful read. I'm glad to hear that you had a wonderful time. Hope to see you again in the near future.