There can’t be too many days when you start work climbing down a ladder, with a government spy, into a dingy underground shaft in search of a torture chamber. This was how the meandering road of journalism took me to tunnels and bunkers deep beneath Lusaka, the capital of Zambia, on a sunny day in September 1995.
A few hours earlier I had been sitting at the presidential palace with the diminutive former President Frederick Chiluba. He assured me, with his peculiar trademark expression of rolling his eyes so all you could see was their whites, that we would see shocking evidence of torture in the days of his predecessor Kenneth Kaunda.
At the time, Kaunda had been a thorn in the side of Chiluba and was staging a political comeback. To give Chiluba his due, the union leader had ousted Kaunda, fair and square, at elections on a wave of votes of people fed up with food shortages and autocratic tendencies from the old man. It ended Kaunda’s 27-year reign since the day Zambia won independence on October 24, 1964. KK or Super Ken, as they called him in the copper belt, was determined to fight back at the 1996 elections and was going to wring out every bit of popularity he had as well as making a nuisance of himself to the people in power.
<div id="attachment_3519" style="width: 215px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-3519" class="size-medium wp-image-3519" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/Par1766006-1-205x300.jpg" alt="" width="205" height="300" />Zambia&#8217;s former president Frederick Chiluba gives the thumbs up outside the Magistrates Courts on Febrauary 15, 2008 in Lusaka after the court ruled today that Chiluba should face a corruption trial in May. Chiluba would have to show cause why he should not be convicted on charges of theft of public funds and abuse of office, prosecutor Mutembo Nchito told AFP after the ruling by Lusaka Magistrate Jones Chinyama.</div>
In response, Chiluba threw mud at Kaunda from every angle. He tried to deport the old man to Malawi with a bizarre claim that the former head of state was not a Zambian – his father, a Church of Scotland vicar, was born in Malawi. In 1998, there was a misprision of treason trial where Kaunda was charged with failing to inform authorities of a treasonous act. Kaunda, who spent nine months in prison during the independence struggle, was to spend many more months behind bars on remand and grew a bushy Father Christmas white beard in protest. Appropriate, since he was arrested on Christmas Day.
“These are frightened little men trying to hurt me,” was one of Kaunda’s phrases of the time.
This was the scene on the surface on that day I walked into the dim tunnels built by engineers from the former Yugoslavia in the days when Lusaka was under attack for sheltering guerrillas from neighboring Zimbabwe and South Africa.
It was a bit like walking down a mine as the shaft led downward, in a gentle incline. There were lights here and there perched in the rock; every now and then there was a room off the main tunnel. We had the camera ready to get shots of the torture chamber; we found… nothing. If there was a torture chamber it was well hidden.
We scoured the underground bunkers and all we found was a radio station with a five-kilowatt transmitter, lots of damp carpets and rotting wood, what looked like a council chamber and rooms filled with bunk beds; little else.
We emerged at the other end of the long tunnel, which came out at the presidential palace, puzzled. Why had Chiluba sent us on a wild-goose chase? There was anecdotal evidence from a Major Ronald Chansa who told of being held and tortured in the tunnels for 21 days in 1981.
Afterwards, we headed for Kaunda’s home in Lusaka to ask the question about torture.
“If I see a spider in the bath I will take it out before I put my water there,” says Kaunda in denying the charge.
“Maybe there were one or two over-zealous policeman, here and there, but I can say I know nothing of torture.”
Maybe.
Chiluba faced corruption charges after his term in office and died in June 2011. Chansa, if there was such a man, never spoke out again. Kaunda, who famously grabbed the microphone to make a tribute at Nelson Mandela’s funeral in December 2013, is alive and well, living in Lusaka. He pulled out of the 1996 election at the last minute and never stood again and was acquitted of misprision of treason.
Maybe between the three, lies the truth about the bunkers deep below Lusaka.
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Deep Under The Earth  In Search Of A Dark Secret

The KK 11, Zambia’s team of yesteryear, was so aptly named after our great leader, the father of our nation, Kenneth Kaunda. The name came with great power and strength. It was almost like a weapon we could use when we ran into battle on the pitch.
The first time I heard of the KK 11 was on the radio. I remember it like it was yesterday. In 1974, on an evening when Zambia was playing in its first Africa Cup of Nations final, the high pitched voice of commentator Dennis Liwewe streamed through the wireless safely secured in the corner of the house. I followed the match between the KK 11 and the Leopards of Zaire intensely. Liwewe shouted the names that still ring in my mind today as two great sides battled for the honor to be African kings in the finals in Egypt. I still remember the stadium name being belted out in loud voice, ‘El Nasser in Cairo!’
My memory of this day is still clear as Mulamba Ndaye scored for Zaire, followed by Brighton Sinyangwe and Simon Kaodi Kaushi equalizing for Zambia to take the match to a replay.
There were other great names. Names that have remained etched in our history, such as Dick Chama, Dickson Makwaza, Edwin Mbaso, Boniface Simutowe, Jani Simlambo, Bernard Chanda, Brighton Sinyangwe and Emmanuel Mwape.
That team covered every blade of grass as they battled from box to box, ran from man to man and dug deep into their energy reserves in search of victory. Their determination forced the match into a 2-2 draw against a highly rated and favored Zaire side. This forced a replay which saw Zaire winning and qualifying for the 1974 World Cup in Germany. Nevertheless, that Zambian team epitomized pride and commitment. They were a collective force, a powerful team full of big names that made them a powerhouse.
A few years later, I was privileged to watch them at Dag Hammarskjöld stadium in Ndola. They were playing Zaire again, this time in a qualifier. It was the first match I watched live in a stadium and the epic battle remains one of the most unforgettable events in my life. I was with my late dad and my late elder brother, Benjamin, when Zambia savoured a 2-1 victory, courtesy of goals by Richard Stephenson and Peter Mhango.
We were able to see many matches because my dad was a member of the executive committee of the Football Association of Zambia. He used to take us to a lot of stadiums while we were growing up and we could play football all day in local grounds.
From merely following the team in the newspapers and watching them in training, I came to admire and respect this mighty group of men. Imagine then how I felt as a 19-year-old when I was first called up to join the KK 11 in 1982. I was immensely proud to wear the Zambian shirt and have the chance to feature in tense battles before capacity crowds, playing alongside the greats of my time.
President Kaunda came to almost all the games. I was in awe the first time I met him. I remember his trademark white handkerchief, his presence, his height and his strong handshake. He would come to the stadium in his impressive motorcade just as the game was about to start. We would line up and shake his hand, which motivated us to go out and do our best. Then he would ask the referees for the match ball and he would charismatically and stylishly kick the ball around with his right leg, much to the delight of the crowd.
When I first heard that we were going to State House for a luncheon I was totally mesmerized. Me, a 20-year-old from Mufulira, going to State House? It was 1984 and we had just returned from Uganda after winning the East and Central Africa Challenge Cup. The KK 11 was invited to dine with the president. I remember using the cutlery and crockery with state insignia emblazoned on them. We all looked forward to that and it inspired us to keep winning.
It was the first of many dinners and luncheons hosted by Kaunda. But, what was most memorable of Kaunda was not the state banquets, it was that he attended the matches, he ate with us and in those interactions, he shared a lot with us. In his humility he inspired us and his call to the team was to play with dignity and honor and for the people.
Kaunda always told us that we had to go out on the pitch to die a little for mother Zambia. He galvanized us and garnered a lot of support for the team.
That culture of hard work, sacrifice and dedication to duty has carried on with the Chipolopolo; we never forget what is now our tradition.
This new generation also had an encounter with Kaunda when in 2012, during the greatest moment of Zambian football, President Michael Sata sent him to join the team in Gabon for the final of the Africa Cup of Nations which we won.
It was meaningful for Kaunda to have been there on that great night in Libreville. He was emotional and he used his traditional white handkerchief to wipe away his tears of joy. The culmination of his dedication to football came full circle on this historical day.
The new generation of players coming through the ranks will find the same values, messages and encouragement as they go on to play for Chipolopolo. Kaunda left an indelible mark in our footballing history. He taught us about pride and nationalism, he taught us to be humble yet proud, he taught us One Nation, One Zambia. We will be eternally grateful for his part in our footballing history.

Tag: Kenneth Kaunda

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