Today, there are many countries with their own space programs, but only three nations
have ever launched their own crewed spacecraft - the US, Russia (/Soviet Union) and China.
China's capabilities here are largely attributed to the Russians letting them copy their homework,
but America and Russia's space programs date back to the fifties,
and were fueled by a mutual rivalry to develop spaceflight capability, known as the Space Race.
The Space Race saw the United States and the Soviet Union compete to create the
first artificial satellite, put the first human in space and put the first man on the moon. But
there was an unlikely, third competitor that threatened to beat them both - the African
nation of Zambia. Yes, in the 1960's, Zambia had its own space program, although... Well,
if you've ever seen Ghana's "advanced military hardware", this was less convincing than that.
Zambia's space program first came to international attention in 1964, when Northern Rhodesia gained
independence from Britain, and became the Republic of Zambia. The global media were surprised to hear
of a Zambian man who wasn't all too happy with this, and even more surprised to find out why.
He was Edward Makuka Nkoloso, a grade-school science teacher and director of Zambia's
National Academy of Science, Space Research and Philosophy. Nkoloso complained that the current
political machinations were disruptive to his space program, and his quest to beat the US and
Soviet Union to put the first person on the moon. Now this may surprise you, but Zambia's National
Academy of Science, Space Research and Philosophy wasn't an official office. Nkoloso had made it up,
and appointed himself as director general. Despite this, the Academy did actually
have a facility and trainee space cadets - believe it or not, they even had a rocket.
As you can see, it's less "state of the art" and more just "state"- as in "look
at the state of all this shite". Yeah, the Academy's facility was an abandoned farm,
and Nkoloso's dozen trainee astronauts, or "Afronauts" as he called them,
were little more than teenagers. Training exercises inluded being put in an oil drum
and rolled down the hill and swinging from a tree on a tyre. This was to simulate weightlessness.
Nkoloso said his space program was inspired by his first flight on an airplane - when he
was disappointed that the pilot wouldn't stop the plane so he could walk around on the clouds. Man,
they don't even stop to let you have a piss, never mind go for a walk.
Nkoloso's goal was to put an Afronaut on the moon. The Academy had also come to the conclusion that
Mars was inhabited by primitive Natives, and Nkoloso wanted to set up a Christian ministry
there to convert them. But he wouldn't be able to do any of this without financial backing,
so he wrote to numerous countries and organisations asking for money,
including the US, the Soviet Union, Israel, and UNESCO. The amounts he asked for ranged from
20 million dollars to 2 billion dollars. Surprisingly, every organisation turned
down these very reasonable requests, although some did respond with well wishes and advice.
Sadly you can't fuel a rocketship with well wishes and advice, and assumedly they tried,
but Zambia's space program soon fell apart due to problems both internal and external.
Nkoloso claimed that foreign meddling greatly disrupted Zambia's space program, and spies from
the US and Soviet Union were eager to steal their secrets, which according to Nkoloso,
were way more advanced than anything either of the superpowers had to offer.
Another problem was the Academy's constant relocating. Their headquarters would move to
locations that just coincidentally lined up with whatever new day
job Nkoloso had gained employment in. Worst of all though, were the astronauts.
Astronauts, famous for their bumbling ignorance and high-handed arrogance are well known for
their grandstanding and hotdogging, and the afronauts were no exception. Nkoloso claimed
the international attention had gone to their heads, making them think they were stars. They
had the gall to ask to be paid for their work. Two of Nkoloso's best men went on a drinking spree
and never returned. Another joined a local tribal song and dance group. The rest, Nkoloso claimed,
were too busy making love instead of focusing on their studies. A female afronaut fell pregnant,
and had to return to her parents. By 1969, man had reached the moon,
but the flag that flew on its surface was American, not Zambian. Edward Mukuka
Nkoloso had watched someone else achieve his dream. Zambia's space program was nothing more
than a laughing stock. But who was the joke really on? Who was this guy? Was he for real?
Edward Makuka Nkoloso was born in 1919 in Northern Rhodesia. He received a missionary
education learning theology, Latin and French. He wanted to join the priesthood but was drafted
to fight in World War II as a member of the Northern Rhodesian Regiment under Britain.
In the signal corp, he was promoted up to sargeant, and it's here where he reportedly
first learned an interest in science, after being shown how to operate a microscope. After the war,
Nkoloso wanted to found his own school, though the colonial administration denied
him a permit. He opened one anyways, and it was shut down and he was prosecuted.
He then joined the resistance movement, and gained a following as an activist
and freedom fighter. He was arrested and imprisoned in 1956 and 1957. According to
Nkoloso, he was tortured during this time. Upon his release, he was appointed "National
Steward" of the United National Independence Party, which was formed by Kenneth Kaunda,
who would later become Zambia's first president. When this happened, Nkoloso served as President
Kaunda's "Special Representative", at the African Liberation Center, an organisation that supported
the work of freedom fighters all across Africa in their struggle against colonialism.
Friends and enemies agreed that Nkoloso was a very well educated and likeable fellow, but what they
couldn't seem to agree on was his mental state and how committed to Zambia's space program he
was. Some say he was just eccentric, others say he was crazy. There's even the view that his mind
was broken by the torture during his arrest and imprisonment, and he was never the same again.
As such, there are several theories that explain the motivations behind the Zambian space program.
The first is that it was all done in earnest, and Nkoloso really believed he could put an Afronaut
on the moon. The second is that it was just a bit of harmless fun, and maybe even a bit of a satire
of colonialist attitudes towards Africa. While the global media was busy making a mockery of Zambia's
space program, maybe they hadn't realised the Zambian space program had made a mockery of them.
There's a metal band I like called GWAR, and they dress up in these ridiculous costumes and
play the part of intergalactic aliens. I find people's first reaction to this is either utter
bewilderment or smug condescension. "Oh you like these clowns? This is like a child's idea of cool,
look at their silly costumes". I think the Zambia space program might be a little like GWAR in this
regard. Like, good job genius, you got the point of it being a joke but have now somehow
convinced yourself it's you who's playing it on them. How long do you make it through a Three
Stooges movie before proclaiming "hey, these guys are a bunch of morons!". I think the whole
"converting the primitive Martians" thing is probably the best evidence of this, that seems
like a subtle wink and a nod sort of thing. The third theory is that the space program was
merely a front for freedom fighting operations, and Nkoloso was using it to teach young recruits
covertly. Maybe if you're widely known as the village idiot who thinks he's a spaceman
it's easier to explain why you have certain chemicals and materials in your posession.
Nkoloso worked as a teacher on-and-off throughout his life, teaching Latin,
science and maths. In 1983 he received a law degree from the University of Zambia. Sadly,
in 1989, he passed away at the age of seventy. He was buried with presidential honours.
In tribute to Nkoloso's contributions to space travel, I will be setting up my own
space program, with hopes of offering an alternative to the three nations capable
of launching crewed spacecraft. So if you're sick of these bastards,
or even if you are one of these bast -- uh, good people, why not considering supporting
the Qxir space program by joining my channel membership or donating to me on Patreon. You
can also just subscribe and watch my videos. That's free. And unlike well wishes and advice,
you can fuel a rocketship with subscribers, so hop on in. See you next week, folks.