That time Zambia tried Space Travel

When you think of space travel you don't think of Africa. But you should. In the 1960s, the Soviets and Americans weren’t the only ones trying to get to space. The Zambians were right alongside them, led by a man named Edward Mukuka Nkoloso. Nkoloso was a grade-school science teacher and director of Zambia’s National Academy of Space Research and Philosophy whose goals were very simple: to send a man, woman and, eventually cat, into space. There was one problem with his plan, however; there was no way it would work. In fact, the plan was so patently absurd, that many have wondered if the Zambian Space Agency was an exercise in satire, at best, or a demonstration of unbridled optimism untethered to reality, at worst. 

The Programme:

A clear example of the absurdity of the plan is the event that inspired Nkoloso to accept the directorship of Zambia’s Space Agency. Nkoloso was inspired by this first aeroplane flight. Whilst soaring through the air, Nkoloso desired to walk amongst the clouds. When the pilot, naturally, refused, the rebellious origins of Zambia’s space agency were planted. At that moment, Nkoloso determined that he would take himself to the stars. Specifically, he would recruit and train 12 astronauts to travel to the moon. However, his methods for training leave something to be desired. According to TIME Magazine, Nkoloso trained these astronauts “by spinning them around a tree in an oil drum and teaching them to walk on their hands, ‘the only way humans can walk on the moon.’” Additionally, Nkoloso made his trainees swing on a rope, before cutting it to experience free fall. In fact, and to further cement the absurdity of Nkoloso’s plan, this system would inspire his first choice for space travel: a giant catapult. Nkoloso would, later, abandon this system in favour of turbulent propulsion. Speaking of turbulence, Nkoloso, and his 12 astronaut trainees, were dressed in colourful outfits that could have been spotted from space. Nkoloso wore a combat helmet, khaki military uniform and a flowing cape made out of multicoloured silk with an embroidered neck. While his astronauts wore green satin jackets with yellow trousers. These, however, were not space suits.  

To fund Nkoloso’s plans, he wrote to a number of countries, including the United States, the USSR and Israel, asking for $2 billion in aid (currently valued at $18 billion, when adjusted for inflation). Many of them declined, replying only to wish him well. Only one person, not country, gave him aid; a space-minded school boy from India who heeded his call and sent Nkoloso a 10 rupee note. Unfortunately, this was not enough to finance the programme; and the lack of funding it what led to the failure of the space programme. As funds dried up, Nkoloso’s astronaut trainees deserted the programme. Speaking to the Associated Press, Nkoloso recounted the departures: “Two of my best men went on a drinking spree a month ago and haven’t been seen since . . . Another of my astronauts has joined a local tribal song and dance group.” Nkoloso’s star pupil – Martha Mwamba, who was to travel to Mars – fell pregnant and dropped out. By 1965, Nkoloso’s programme was no more. 

Understanding Motivation

The programme’s collapse raises the question of motivation; why was this programme pursued in the first place? Nkoloso was well aware of Africa’s technological capabilities. As a freedom fighter, who mobilised communities against the British through coordinated work strikes, he was also well aware that the primary priorities of many post-independence governments would be to rectify the underdevelopment their nations had endured. This underdevelopment severely limited the resources available to developing nations and forced them to lean on the former colonizers for capital and expert labour. In light of the scarcity of precious resources, why would any resources be allocated to the nascent Zambian Space Agency which, was not a developmental priority? Two reasons come to mind: to prove a point, albeit an elaborate point and; (2) the Agency was a front. 

A Joke Taken Too Far: Satire

Addressing the first of these; the Zambian Space Agency existed to prove a point about the mismatched developmental priorities of the West. That, in an age characterised by independence and development, the West chose to spend its surplus wealth on the space race, which mainly benefitted them rather than the common man, rather than on the developmental projects in the Global South. What better way to expose this misalignment in priorities than through satire. Satire is the use of humour, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people's stupidity or vices, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues. A great example of this is the hit American show “Saturday Night Live”, or it’s Kenyan equivalent The XYZ Show. Both use humour and hyperbole to expose the nonsensical policies, actions and statements of political actors in the US and Kenya, respectively. And evidence exists that Nkoloso intended to do the same with the Zambian Space Agency. 

Evidence for Nkoloso’s satirical intention exists in a 1964 op-ed he wrote describing his space programme. He wrote: “we have been studying the planet through telescopes at our headquarters and are now certain Mars is populated by primitive natives. Our rocket crew is ready. Specially trained spacegirl Martha Mwamba, two cats (also specially trained) and a missionary will be launched in our first rocket. But I have warned the missionary he must not force Christianity on the people if they do not want it.” Here, Nkoloso regurgitates the same logic that animated European colonialism; the presumption that the indigenous people would be primitive because they were not like us, and that these primitive peoples would need salvation from a benevolent visitor. As a formally colonised person, it is unlikely that Nkoloso believed it. It is therefore odd for him to, uncritically, repeat the logic. This repetition is, therefore, a potential indicator of satire.

The Perfect Front: Freedom Fighter Trainer

However, and as noted, another reason exists for the Zambian Space Programme; that the Zambian Space Agency was a front. This is likely, given the role Nkoloso played in post-independence Zambia. After Zambia won its independence, Nkoloso served as a Special Representative for President Kaunda at the Africa Liberation Centre. The Centre was a safe house and propaganda machine for freedom fighters across the continent. Given Nkoloso’s close connection to the Centre, is it possible that the Zambian Space Programme served as a cover for military training? According to historical records, Nkoloso’s duties as a special representative were to train the freedom fighters militarily in the Chunga Valley – where the space programme was located. Furthermore, the absurdity of the programme was the perfect cover for more serious activities because that absurdity, coupled with good-old-fashioned European racism, allowed foreign intelligence to dismiss Nkoloso. 

Conclusion

In the end, Nkoloso’s space programme – whether established as a front or as a satirical exercise – left its’ mark on Zambia and Africa. Despite its ridiculousness, Nkoloso still created the first space travel programme in Africa, at a time when Africa was shirking its’ colonial past and embracing its independent future. In this manner, these galactical ambitions perfectly mirrored the unbridled promise of an independent Africa, finally free to chart its own path to development. Just as the slow dismantling of this dream mirrors how the West regarded African plans for development and the power the West held over Africa’s ability to realise its dreams. Imagine if the US and USSR had provided Nkoloso’s programme with scientific and technical expertise in order to build capacity, instead of money. How much further would Zambia be? 

Ultimately, This is not a story about a madman with impossible dreams or the satirical intent behind those dreams. It is a story of how those dreams were not taken seriously by those with the power to do so. And, ultimately, the story of how dreams die. And from experience, I can attest, that dreams don’t die with a bang or a pop, but with a whimper; as they are slowly deprived of the things that sustain it.