A socioeconomic analysis of Zambia’s contradicting realities

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. — Eagles, Hotel California

Much like the haunting Eagles lyric that inspired this piece, Zambia's economic reality is one that resists the convenience of silence or selective attention. The country's citizens inhabit it with every transaction they conduct, every queue they stand in, every nshima they deliberate over. To opt out of the conversation is not to opt out of the conditions. The weight follows one home. Zambia stands at a peculiar crossroads in 2026, a country whose aggregate economic indicators project cautious optimism while millions of its citizens remain enmeshed in poverty so structural and so deep that it has become, for many, an inheritance. It is a nation in which the trajectories visible on government spreadsheets and the lived experience of ordinary households occupy conspicuously divergent registers. Both, however, are empirically real. Both demand sustained, unflinching analytical attention. We could choose to stop talking about the economic challenges we are in any time we like but we cannot erase the fact that what is happening both affects and pains us. Much like the guests of that infamous hotel California, Zambia's citizens did not choose the terms of their arrival into these conditions. And for the millions who cannot feel the growth that the indicators announce, the corridors look no different from one year to the next. This contradiction of realities is the conversation we owe each other. This is the hotel room we all inhabit.

I. The macroeconomic recovery built on fragile foundations

On the surface, there is measurable cause for tempered optimism. GDP growth is projected at 5.8% in 2025 and 6.4% in 2026, propelled by the mining sector, an agricultural rebound following the catastrophic droughts of the 2023–2024 season, and a partial restoration of energy supply. The Zambian kwacha appreciated by 14.4% against the United States dollar in the first half of 2025, a non-trivial stabilisation signal, and headline inflation retreated to approximately 7.5% by February 2026 from its prior elevated levels. The International Monetary Fund (IMF) concluded its Extended Credit Facility (ECF) programme with Zambia in January 2026, disbursing a final tranche of approximately $190 million and bringing cumulative programme support to $1.7 billion. This denouement to a painstaking post-default restructuring process — initiated after Zambia became the first African sovereign to default on its Eurobond obligations during the COVID-19 pandemic in November 2020 — has materially restored a measure of institutional credibility. S&P Global’s upgrade of Zambia’s sovereign credit rating from ‘SD’ (selective default) to ‘CCC+’ represents a modest but symbolically consequential restatement of market confidence. Copper exports, which remain the bedrock of Zambia’s foreign exchange earnings, contributed $700 million to the interbank market and $500 million in fiscal receipts in the first half of 2025 alone. Yet the very buoyancy of these copper revenues illuminates the structural dependency that has defined, constrained, and periodically undone Zambia’s economic trajectory across successive decades. A nation whose fortunes rise and fall with a single commodity traded on global exchanges over which it exercises no influence is a nation perpetually exposed.

II. The aggregate growth is failing the majority

Disaggregate the macroeconomic narrative and what materialises is a social landscape of stark and sobering proportions. Approximately 60% of Zambia’s population live below the national poverty line, a figure that sits in discomfiting juxtaposition against the government’s 8th National Development Plan target of 45% by 2026. At the current pace of poverty reduction, that ambition is not merely aspirational; it is arithmetically unreachable within the stated horizon. The structural drivers of poverty, low agricultural productivity, inadequate human capital investment, geographic isolation, and persistent gender inequality, are not amenable to resolution within a single 5-year political term. Over 65% of the population subsists on less than $2.15 per day. The cumulative inflation rate between 2022 and 2025 registered at 44.3%, functioning as a concealed tax upon the poor that erodes the purchasing power of wages already insufficient to ensure dignified living. As of January 2024, Zambia's minimum wage for non-unionized workers ranges from approximately $74.35 to over $230 per month depending on the sector and job category. This is the floor beneath which basic nutritional, housing, and healthcare needs cannot be met. The chasm between this benchmark and prevailing incomes requires no elaborate statistical treatment to communicate its profundity. It is a chasm that parents navigate daily in the arithmetic of household survival. Food inflation has been disproportionately punishing. For households devoting the preponderance of their income to subsistence expenditure — as the majority of poor Zambian families are compelled to do — each percentage point increase in food prices is not an abstraction on a macroeconomic dashboard. It is a recalibration of survival: a meal deferred, a child despatched to school without adequate nutrition, a medical appointment postponed. The Gini coefficient, forecast at 0.58 for 2025, positions Zambia among the most unequal societies on the African continent and, by extension, in the world. Inequality at this magnitude is not merely a distributional concern; it is a political economy constraint that limits the transformative potential of growth itself.

III. The Debt Architecture: Governing Under Fiscal Constraint

Perhaps no dimension of Zambia’s current predicament is as structurally defining as the geometry of its public debt obligations. The 2026 national budget of K253.1 billion, representing a nominal increase of 16.6% over the prior year, allocates in excess of 36% to debt servicing and general public services. The fiscal implications of this configuration are not merely financial; they are developmental. Resources consumed by obligations incurred in the past are resources unavailable for investment in health infrastructure, teacher recruitment, road rehabilitation, or social protection programming. The opportunity cost of debt servicing at this scale is, in the most precise sense, human development forgone. Zambia’s public debt reached a peak of approximately 120% of GDP. Approximately two-thirds of this debt is held by external creditors and denominated in foreign currency, rendering the fiscal position acutely sensitive to exchange rate movements. The creditor composition: spanning multilateral institutions, bilateral partners including China and Saudi Arabia, and commercial bondholders,  introduced considerable complexity into restructuring negotiations. Discussions with certain creditors, among them Afreximbank and the Trade and Development Bank, remained unresolved into early 2026. The IMF’s characterisation of Zambia’s debt as ‘sustainable but at high risk of distress’ captures, with clinical precision, the paradox at the heart of the country’s fiscal situation: solvent in the technical sense, yet perpetually constrained in its developmental capacity.

IV. Energy, climate vulnerability and the geopolitical dimension

The 2023/24 drought was not merely a meteorological event; it was an economic shock of considerable amplitude. The contraction in water levels at Kariba Dam, the principal reservoir for Zambia’s hydroelectric generation system, precipitated severe load-shedding that cascaded through industrial, commercial, and household activity alike. Agricultural output contracted sharply. Manufacturing costs escalated. Livelihoods dependent on consistent electricity supply, from small salons and barbershops to larger processing facilities, were materially disrupted. The subsequent recovery in rainfall in the 2024/25 season has partially restored energy generation capacity, and this recovery accounts for a meaningful component of the GDP rebound projected for 2025/26. It is worth noting, however, that a recovery from crisis is not equivalent to structural progress. Recognising the strategic and developmental imperative of energy security, the government has initiated a landmark intervention through the Presidential Constituency Energy Initiative. Under this programme, a solar power plant of two megawatts generating capacity is to be installed in each of Zambia’s 156 constituencies. At full implementation, this initiative would add a combined 312 megawatts of distributed solar capacity to the national energy mix, a not insignificant supplement, particularly for rural constituencies currently marginalised from the national grid. Beyond the raw generation figures, the constituency-level distribution model carries the potential for genuinely transformative local impact: powering rural health posts, irrigation pumps, schools, and small enterprises in communities where energy poverty has long constrained economic participation. The execution risk, however, is real. The procurement, installation, maintenance, and institutional governance of 156 simultaneous solar installations demands administrative capacity and financial resources that must be carefully safeguarded against the twin pressures of fiscal austerity and political interference. Compounding the domestic energy challenge is the increasingly volatile external environment. The current instability in the Middle East, a region that supplies a disproportionate share of global petroleum output and serves as a critical node in international oil shipping lanes, carries material implications for Zambia’s import bill. Should geopolitical tensions escalate further, oil prices are likely to exceed current forecasting assumptions, increasing the cost of transportation, industrial generation, and agricultural inputs such as fuel for mechanised farming. For a landlocked country dependent on long overland freight routes, higher oil prices are not a localised inconvenience; they are an inflationary input that permeates the entire cost structure of the economy. The energy transition investments being pursued domestically will ultimately reduce this vulnerability, but the transitional period remains a window of exposure that demands both contingency planning and fiscal prudence. The broader climate trajectory adds a further layer of systemic risk. Zambia’s hydroelectric infrastructure, while nationally significant, is structurally vulnerable to the increasing variability of rainfall patterns that characterise climate change in southern Africa. The Batoka Gorge Hydropower Project on the Zambezi River represents an ambitious and strategically important investment. Similarly, the development of regional infrastructure corridors linking Zambia to coastal ports in Tanzania and Angola offers the promise of reduced logistics costs and enhanced market access. These are, without question, the right investments. Their long gestation periods, however, mean that the economy’s exposure to climatic and geopolitical shocks remains acute in the near to medium term.

V. The contraction of developmental resources

The 2026 national budget allocated K33 billion to education and K26.2 billion to health, nominally increased figures that nonetheless leave both sectors significantly underfunded relative to their obligations and the developmental needs they are called upon to address. The health allocation sustains a K21 billion financing gap against Zambia’s commitments under the Abuja Declaration, which obligates African governments to dedicate no less than 15% of public expenditure to health. Education’s proportional share of the overall budget has, in real terms, declined. The aspirational commitments to recruit additional teachers and health workers are commendable in direction but uncertain in resourcing. Into this environment of constrained domestic social sector financing comes a further and potentially underappreciated structural challenge: the contraction of donor funding to Zambia’s social sectors. For decades, international development partners: bilateral donors, multilateral agencies, and international non-governmental organisations, have been critical co-financiers of Zambia’s health, education, nutrition, and social protection programmes. The current period of global fiscal retrenchment among traditional donor nations, compounded by shifting geopolitical priorities and donor fatigue in several development assistance portfolios, is producing a measurable contraction in the external resource envelope available to Zambia’s social ministries. Programmes in HIV/AIDS treatment, maternal and child health, food assistance, and cash transfer schemes that have historically relied on donor co-financing face the prospect of resource gaps that domestic budgetary allocations are poorly positioned to fill in the short term. The implications of this contraction extend well beyond the balance sheet. The loss of donor support in health, for example, risks reversing hard-won gains in antiretroviral therapy coverage, maternal mortality reduction, and vaccination rates, progress built over years that can be unwound with disquieting rapidity under conditions of resource shortage. Social protection programmes that have extended thin but critical safety nets to the most vulnerable households may face coverage reductions at precisely the moment when elevated living costs are deepening the exposure of low-income families. Zambia must, therefore, urgently develop a credible and adequately resourced domestically funded social protection architecture that is not contingent on the continuance of external generosity. The dependency of social sector delivery on donor goodwill is itself a form of structural vulnerability that warrants policy attention commensurate with its severity. In the famous words of Adam Smith, it is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest. We address ourselves, not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our own necessities but of their advantages. The HIV/AIDS burden places a chronic and resource-intensive demand on the health system. Rural communities remain structurally disconnected from productive opportunity through inadequate infrastructure. The convergence of these challenges with contracting donor financing constitutes a human development crisis in slow motion, one that does not manifest in dramatic headlines but accumulates, quietly and devastatingly, across populations and generations.

VI. The political economy of an election year as fiscal prudence is under pressure

Zambia approaches its 2026 general elections with a government that carries a legitimately mixed but broadly creditable macroeconomic record. President Hakainde Hichilema and the UPND administration, which assumed office in August 2021 on a mandate built substantially on the promise of economic rectification, have achieved meaningful stabilisation: the kwacha is stronger, inflation is declining, the IMF programme has been completed, and the sovereign debt restructuring has been concluded, albeit protracted and technically demanding. These are genuine achievements that deserve acknowledgement without equivocation. Elections, however, are not adjudicated in the register of macroeconomic indicators. They are determined, in significant measure, at the kitchen table: in the arithmetic of household budgets, in the price of mealie meal and cooking oil, in the perceived adequacy of the health post and the classroom. For the millions of Zambians whose material circumstances have not meaningfully improved despite aggregate stabilisation, the political dividend of macroeconomic management remains intangible. The risk in this environment is that fiscal discipline, the very discipline that secured the IMF imprimatur and the kwacha’s recovery,  is no match to the electoral logic of populist expenditure increases, subsidy expansions, and public sector wage adjustments calibrated more to political positioning than to fiscal sustainability. The fiscal implications of the electoral cycle are further amplified by a structural development of considerable consequence: the increase in the number of constituencies from 156 to 226 mandated by the Constitution of Zambia (Amendment) Bill No. 7 of 2025. Each additional constituency created generates a cascade of attendant expenditure obligations including the establishment of new constituency offices and administrative infrastructure, the recruitment and deployment of additional electoral officers, the extension of the Presidential Constituency Energy Initiative (discussed above) to accommodate the new units, the funding of bye-elections and ultimately full general election logistics across a larger number of electoral units, and the ongoing parliamentary representation costs of additional Members of Parliament. The recurrent cost implication of constituency expansion is, accordingly, not a one-time electoral expense but a permanent adjustment to the base of public sector obligation, one that must be absorbed within a fiscal envelope already under the dual pressure of debt servicing and social sector underfunding. Prudent fiscal planning requires that this structural expenditure increase be explicitly costed, transparently disclosed, and managed with the same rigour applied to other categories of public expenditure. The ZIPAR and United Nations analyses of the 2026 national budget identify with precision the governing tension: the budget must simultaneously sustain the fiscal consolidation that has been so painfully won and respond to urgent, legitimate, and politically resonant social needs. All these should be done while navigating the expenditure pressures of an election year compounded by structural expansion. This is a governance challenge of the highest order, and the manner in which it is navigated will have consequences that extend well beyond the polling cycle.

VII. The copper dependency and the imperative of structural transformation

Copper has been simultaneously Zambia’s most consequential asset and its most persistent developmental constraint. The global energy transition — driven by the accelerating deployment of electric vehicles, photovoltaic solar systems, wind turbine technology, and grid-scale energy storage — has generated sustained upward pressure on copper demand, affording Zambia a favourable medium-term positioning in the global commodity landscape. Mining sector foreign direct investment is materialising. Refined copper output is rising. The government has pursued active industrial policy to leverage this commodity moment through economic zones, smelting investments, and infrastructure development. Yet the structural vulnerability inherent in commodity dependence has been demonstrated with sufficient frequency in Zambia’s post-independence economic history to require no elaborate theoretical elaboration. When copper prices contracted between 2015 and 2017, fiscal revenues collapsed, the kwacha depreciated sharply, and poverty deepened. The causal chain from a global commodity price movement to a Zambian household’s access to healthcare or education is, in Zambia’s case, disturbingly direct and disturbingly short. Diversification of the productive base, into processed agriculture, manufacturing, tourism, information technology services, and regional logistics, is not a long-term aspiration to be deferred to a more convenient fiscal moment; it is a structural imperative whose deferral imposes a compounding cost on the country’s developmental trajectory.

VIII. Conclusion

The Eagles sang of a gilded entrapment, a mirrored corridor from which guests, however willing their initial arrival, discover that there is no mechanism of departure. Zambia’s economic conditions are neither gilded nor metaphorical. They are constituted by real debt obligations, a real climate crisis, real inequality of a magnitude that diminishes the developmental relevance of aggregate growth, and real policy decisions whose cumulative consequences have accrued across decades. But unlike the passive inhabitants of the Hotel California, Zambians are not merely occupants of their circumstances. They are farmers, miners, teachers, entrepreneurs, health workers, and citizens who carry the weight of structural disadvantage and continue, with remarkable resilience, to construct meaningful lives within it. The macroeconomic stabilisation underway is substantive, and its preservation is a non-negotiable precondition of any credible developmental trajectory. But stabilisation economic fundamentals, understood as an end rather than a foundation, is insufficient. The pace of poverty reduction, projected at approximately 1% per annum, is inadequate to the urgency of the human condition it purports to address. At that rate, the reduction of poverty to tolerable levels is a multi-generational enterprise. The contraction of donor financing, the energy insecurity compounded by global oil price volatility, the fiscal pressures generated by constituency expansion, and the recurrent social spending gaps left by the withdrawal of external partners all represent structural headwinds whose cumulative weight demands not incremental management but strategic ambition. Zambia possesses, in meaningful abundance, the foundational ingredients of transformative development: a young and growing population, substantial mineral wealth, significant agricultural potential, a relatively stable democratic tradition, and an institutional architecture that functions, however imperfect and underfunded. What it requires is a governing philosophy that subordinates short-term electoral calculus to long-term structural investment; a political economy of patience and discipline in which the Presidential Constituency Energy Initiative is rigorously executed rather than rhetorically declared; in which social sector spending is domestically anchored rather than donor-contingent; in which constituency expansion is fiscally planned rather than institutionally improvised; and in which the diversification of the productive economy is pursued with the urgency that its strategic importance demands.

Sources

1. World Bank Macro Poverty Outlook (October 2025)
2. International Monetary Fund, Extended Credit Facility Sixth Review
3. ZIPAR/UN Zambia 2026 Budget Analysis Report
4. Zambia Statistics Agency (ZamStats), Consumer Price Index Reports 2025–2026
5. African Development Bank, Zambia Economic Outlook 2025
6. Electoral Commission of Zambia, Constituency Delimitation Report
7. Zambia Ministry of Finance, 2026 Budget Address
8. Trading Economics, Zambia Macroeconomic Indicators
9. Statista, Zambia Gini Coefficient Series
10. ZambiaInvest, Mining Sector FDI Reports 2025.
11. The Jesuit Centre for Theological Reflection (JCTR), Basic Needs and Nutrition Basket (BNNB) (February 2026)

The Clock Doesn’t Wait

When I was young, we had a humongous wall clock which would strike a tune at every hour. I never heard the clock ticking. I rushed everywhere and arrived nowhere, convinced myself that there would always be more time. It never announced itself; it simply ticked while I confused movement with meaning.

Decades later, I feel the weight of years I scarcely noticed gathering quietly. The dreams that once shouted with urgency now whisper in a language I must strain to understand. I had an epiphany: the clock never sped up. I simply stopped ignoring it and started hearing every tick and tock.

In all this, I’ve watched many friends and family pass to the other side. For those still walking this earth, their dark hair has surrendered to silver. I have witnessed lovers who promised each other forever only to become strangers before the hour has fully turned. A hospital corridor clock clicked through a long night while life quietly slipped from present into memory. Memories blur and soften, but the clock remains precise and unwavering.

You see, we rage against time, but it is indifferent. We bargain, plead, or sometimes pretend not to hear it. But time does not negotiate. Unlike Dorian Gray, whose portrait absorbed the cost of time, we are doomed to carry ours in plain sight. The mirror, time’s quiet accomplice, equally grants no mercy. When you make the mistake of checking yourself in the mirror, there is no comfort there, only the quiet confirmation of clock hands that never stop moving. Each line you see on your face, and each bone that aches or cracks when you stand or stretch, is the time’s unmistakable signature.

If you are still young and are still wrapped in the illusion of invincibility, here this: the clock does not wait. It offers no extensions to the late bloomer and no grace period for hesitation. It ticks whether you resent its haste or revere its lessons. Life rarely announces its turning points; it simply moves forward while you are still deciding.

Though time is linear, the tragedy is not reaching your final hour. It is arriving there without having truly lived because you allowed fear, distraction or pride to steal the moments meant to matter. Moments of connection. Moments that ask nothing more than your presence. The clock keeps count; we decide what counts.

So, on this day, I stand in front of the mirror not in denial but in acceptance. I bow down and kiss the ring, acknowledging that the clock does not wait. It never has. It never will. Yet time’s indifference is not cruelty, it is simply the condition of life. Within its unyielding rhythm lies something extraordinary, the space to choose. Either to grieve what slips away or cherish what remains. Either to curse the ticking away of time or dance while the music still plays. However, what we cannot keep, we can still honour. Hold a hand without hurry. Notice each breath while it is still yours. Give your day to what really matters.

May your years ahead be measured not merely in time passed, but in moments deeply lived. Like the love boldly given, beauty intentionally noticed or courage quietly practiced. May you dance while the music plays and recognize the melody while it still plays.

The clock doesn’t wait.

Neither should you.

Small Shoulders. Heavy Burdens.

The first Friday the 13th of 2026 has arrived, a date long associated with bad luck among the superstitious. This year brings a rare triple occurrence, as the 13th day of the month falls on a Friday in February, March and November. While the idea that Friday the 13th is unlucky can be dismissed as mere superstition, the day remains culturally significant. Even if its power lies only in what people believe about it, that belief alone makes it noteworthy. And for many, the superstition is still very real.

While many fear a calendar date, for a young girl in Gwembe, 'bad luck' isn't a superstition, it is a permanent resident in her home. 

During my last travel, I encountered a story that still weighs heavily on my heart to this hour. It is the kind of story that stays with you long after you walk away. Like a shadow on a sunny October day. A Friday the 13th horror story.

Mary (not her real name) is a 10-year-old girl living a life no child should ever endure. She lives with her mother, let’s call her Jane, who suffers from epilepsy.

Based on available records and historical timelines, I estimate Jane to be about 27 years old. Mary was born under circumstances Jane cannot bring herself to discuss. Within the community, painful whispers persist. Whispers of abuse, superstition and cruelty. From what were able to piece together, both Mary and her baby sister were likely conceived by men who believed the myth that sleeping with a woman who has epilepsy would bring them wealth or protect them from imagined danger.

Whatever the origins of these beliefs, whether rooted in superstition or fear, their impact is tragically real. Three innocent lives are now bearing the consequences of these harmful and deeply entrenched practices. Mary is not Jane’s only child. There is also Ruth (also not her real name) who is just eight months old, still a baby and entirely dependent on her mother’s care.

When Jane suffers an epileptic episode, the world stops for this family. And in those moments, it is 10-years old Mary who carries out everything. She becomes the caregiver, the decision-maker, the protector. She watches over her mother as her body convulses and sometimes dashes to the healthcare facility to ask for help. Regardless of the hour and that healthcare facility is about 2 Km away from where they live. She soothes and carries along her crying baby sister. She manages fear, hunger, uncertainty and responsibility all at once. Mary has no childhood to remember: no space for play, no room for dreams. Her days are shaped by survival. At an age when she should be learning, laughing and being held, she is instead holding everyone else together.

And the other relatives? Surely someone should be there, after all we respect the extended family system in Zambia. Surely family should matter. Yet no one could give us a clear answer on where other family members are or live.

We documented this heartbreaking reality and reported it to the Ministry of Community Development and Social Services (MCDSS). We are committed to following up with the relevant authorities. Our hope is that this family will be placed on the Social Cash Transfer programme and relocated to an environment where Jane can receive proper medical care, where Ruth can grow safely and where Mary can finally experience what it means to be a child. They need a radical shift in their fortunes like yesterday.

At first glance, this may appear to be an isolated tragedy: one family, one community, one painful story. But stories like Mary’s do not exist in isolation. They ripple outward, touching our society in ways we often choose not to see. When a child is forced to grow up too soon, when superstition replaces humanity and when silence stands in for responsibility, the cost is carried by all of us.

Mary and Ruth are not just victims of circumstance; they are mirrors held up to our collective conscience. If help does not come now, what kind of future awaits them? What kind of adults are we allowing them to become: shaped by fear, neglect and survival instead of care, protection and love?

Mary shouldn't have to spend her whole life 'goodwill hunting' like scavenging for the basic kindness and safety that should be her birthright.

A society is ultimately judged by how it treats its most vulnerable. If we allow children like Mary to carry burdens meant for adults, we are not merely failing one family, we are quietly accepting a future built on abandonment. There is still time to intervene, to protect and to restore what has been taken.

But time, like childhood, does not wait.