The Golden Disarray

The name Kasempa originates from the title of a powerful 19th-century Kaonde warrior chief, Jipumpu. Known for his swift and unexpected attacks, he would cause his enemies to flee in such a panicked rush that their animal-skin clothing would be left in disarray. This earned him the nickname Kasempakanya bantu biseba (the one who causes a disarray of skins) which was eventually shortened to Kasempa and adopted for his chiefdom. By 1902, the British colonial administration, seeking to secure mineral deposits, established Kasempa as a district. Three years later, when Chief Jipumpu died in 1905, he was succeeded by his nephew Kalusha, who was officially inaugurated as chief in 1907. 18 years later, the Evangelical Church in Zambia would establish Mukinge mission, famed for providing quality faith, health and education.

A century later, Kasempa has become the latest epicentre of Zambia’s new gold rush. Much like its neighbour Mufumbwe, thousands of people from across the country and even the wider SADC region are converging on the area in search of the hypothetical and literal pot of gold. But what looks like opportunity on the surface is quickly revealing deep cracks in public health, social protection and the local economy. The signs are stark. Sanitary facilities are almost non-existent in mining camps, which are unmistakable due to the blue-light tents used for shelters. The Ministry of Health has recorded increases in disease outbreaks linked to overcrowding and poor hygiene. Violence, including murder among miners, has become disturbingly common. For instance, one healthcare facility reported receiving 4 deaths on arrival in the past 3 months, a stark increase for a community that had never experienced such incidents.

For the people of Kasempa, the social cost is visible in classrooms that are losing young girls to early motherhood and households forced into deeper poverty as the cost of basic goods skyrockets under inflated demand. Many of the mothers seeking care at under-5 clinics appeared to be minors, a testament to the rising issue of early motherhood in the area.

Kasempa’s story is not an isolated one. It mirrors a broader problem in Zambia’s artisanal and small-scale mining sector. While the large-scale mining industry operates under relatively clear licensing and environmental rules, the small-scale mining sector remains fragmented and under-regulated. Zambia is estimated to have more than 100,000 artisanal and small-scale miners, yet only a fraction operate under formal licences. The cost of licensing and the complexity of the process push many into informal operations, where oversight is weak and risks are high.

The government has begun to expand support for this subsector. In the past year, budget allocations to ASM have more than doubled and hundreds of new artisanal licences have been granted. Gold-marketing centres are being established to reduce exploitation by middlemen. These are positive steps, but Kasempa shows how much more urgently needs to be done.

Three priorities stand out.

First, regularisation. Mining cannot be left to chaos. Registration of miners, simplified licensing and clear oversight are critical not only for revenue, but for safety, law enforcement and community stability.

Second, health and social protection. Every mining rush should trigger deployment of mobile clinics, clean water, sanitation and disease surveillance. Equally, social programmes must protect children, especially girls, from dropping out of school under the weight of mining-related pressures.

Third, cushioning the local economy. When demand spikes, locals should not be priced out of their own markets. Measures to stabilise food and basic goods, combined with efforts to add value locally, can prevent the economic distortion that is pushing communities further into poverty.

Kasempa is a warning. Gold can enrich lives, but without deliberate governance, it can just as easily strip them bare. If Zambia is to benefit from its mineral wealth, the state must ensure that artisanal mining does not become a story of lost childhoods, collapsing health and broken communities.

The time to act is now, before Kasempa becomes the rule rather than the exception.