THE ART OF ACTIVE LISTENING
In the heart of Zambia’s Copperbelt, amidst the bustling activity of the ZCCM(Zambia Consolidated Copper MInes) mining operations in the late 1960s, my dad carved a niche for himself that left an indelible mark on the community of Chamboli Township in Kitwe, and on me.
Known colloquially as “Biafra” for its tumultuous atmosphere reminiscent of the Nigerian conflicts, Chamboli was a hotbed of youthful energy and restlessness. Gangs of youths, unchecked, could easily veer towards chaos, challenging the very fabric of social order. “Duster” and Chipalo were among the notorious individuals that come to mind. At one point, United Bus Company (UBZ) services through Chamboli were suspended due to unrest. It was here, in this vibrant yet volatile environment, that my dad transitioned from his initial role as a teacher in the government sector to a pivotal figure within the ZCCM mining company as a Social Worker, spearheading the Youth Development Programs in Chamboli. Chamboli had a Youth Club near Section M housing estate. In those days, social policing was done by the Mine Police, who had their station near the Kabombeka shops, between Section M and Section P housing developments. The Mine Police patrolled the township 24/7 in their Police vans, with their police dogs. The chief of the Mine Police had a famous whip that he used to discipline people who broke the law. He was not averse to using it on those who were brought before him, including youths, for various infringements. He was Plan B.
Plan A was my dad, Mr Kingsley Sendama. His tenure in Chamboli was marked by a profound tranquility that belied the neighborhood’s notorious nickname. Under his guidance, what could have spiraled into unruly disturbances never escalated beyond his control. The secret to this unwavering stability wasn’t an iron fist or stringent policies but something far more impactful: his innate ability to listen actively.
Mr Kingsley Sendama – Community Development Officer
Recently, a friend mused about how my dad would marvel at today’s advancements in Artificial Intelligence in that typical listening style of his. This reflection sparked a deeper contemplation on my part about the qualities that enabled my dad to navigate the challenges of his time so adeptly. Among these, active listening stands out as a cornerstone of his approach.
Active listening was not merely a skill for my dad; it was a bridge he built, connecting him to the hearts and minds of Chamboli’s youth. With a genuine interest and an open heart, he listened to their stories, their grievances, and their dreams. In doing so, he created a space where each individual felt valued, understood, and, most importantly, heard. He was instrumental in getting a lot of drifting youths into the Lwanshimba Technical Skills Program, an academy located on a mine farm just South of Chamboli compound, where youths learned technical and agricultural skills. Going in as wayward youth, they would later graduate as skilled adults who went on to get stable jobs in the Copperbelt mines and far afield.
My dad had a way of listening that made you feel like you were the only person in the world when you spoke to him. He embodied the essence of what it means to be an active listener. Every time I, or anyone else, had something to say, he gave us his undivided attention, signaling through his body language and expressions that he was fully present. His eyes would lock onto the speaker’s with an intensity that conveyed genuine interest, his nods and slight leans forward across the space between us erasing all distances.
He was a master of verbal affirmations, interjecting little sounds and words of encouragement that spurred you to keep going. “I see,” “Go on,” or “Really?” he’d say, his voice always warm and encouraging. These affirmations weren’t merely perfunctory; they were rich with his genuine desire to understand every nuance of what was being shared.
Dad had this incredible skill of reflecting and paraphrasing what you’d just told him, often adding, “So, what you’re feeling is…” or “If I’m hearing you right, you’re saying that…” It was his way of ensuring he truly grasped the heart of your message. This habit of his not only demonstrated his attentiveness but also opened up a space for any necessary clarification, making every conversation with him a pathway to deeper understanding. He provided you with a painless way for you to correct him on any misinterpretations of what you were saying.
He knew exactly how to ask questions that expanded the conversation. His inquiries were thoughtful and probing, yet never intrusive. They were designed to peel back layers, to delve deeper into the subject matter without ever making you feel as though he was prying for the sake of curiosity alone. Through his questions, he showed that he valued your thoughts and was invested in learning more about your perspective.
Above all, my dad was empathetic. He could sense emotions and respond with such sensitivity that you felt seen and heard in a way that was both comforting and empowering. “It sounds like that was a tough situation for you,” he might say, or “You must be really proud of yourself for that achievement.” His empathy bridged any gaps, creating a connection that was profound and real.
People were naturally drawn to my dad because of his listening style. They felt appreciated and understood, which is why many sought his company and counsel time and again. He had this unique ability to make you leave a conversation feeling better about yourself and your situation, no matter what you had discussed. It was this quality that not only made him a cherished parent but a beloved figure to all who knew him.
In learning from him, I’ve come to realize the immense power of active listening. It’s a gift, a way of making others feel valued and seen. My dad’s listening style taught me that it’s through such genuine engagement with others that we can truly connect, understand, and make a difference in their lives.
P/S
Before their merger into ZCCM in March,1982, Anglo American Corporation, later called Nchanga Consolidated Copper Mines (NCCM) operated Nchanga, Nkana and Konkola copper mines, while Roan Selection Trust (RST), later known as Roan Consolidated Copper Mines Limited (RCM) operated Roan Antelope, Mufulira and Chambishi copper mines.
