It was never my intention to teach Yoga in Eastern Zambia. It’s my personal life, my daily practice. But people saw me, want to try… the rest is history.

I’d been coming to Zambia’s Eastern Province for a good few years because My project of getting a schooling for Ketty had become more than a long-distance ‘volunteer/aid project’. Ketty and I were best of friends; her mates at Magwero School would always sign to Ketty, ‘Your Dad’s here’, when I showed up to collect her at the end of a term. Always made me laugh given that her skin is very dark, and mine white European.

Anyway, the staff at the lodge where I stay, (a dysfunctional but cheap place run by a dictator, and staffed by many long-suffering Zambians who became my friends), would see me doing my Yoga every morning and gradually asking if they could join me, so I set up classes and they grew and grew.

With the blessing of my Mentor in Yoga, (Swami Nishchalananda established the Yoga ashram in Wales where I live), I trained some close friends as teachers so the classes could continue when I wasn’t there. Then they got sacked! (committing the cardinal sin of arguing with the autocratic ‘ruler’ of the NGO/Lodge).

We had an idea…. we would build our own Yoga Hall. A crazy idea! But it came to fruition…. fate seemed to be with us, money was donated, Ketty’s mother Alice (one of the Yoga Teachers) was keen we build on her bit of the compound… the rest is history.

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