
Zambia & Exeter 1976
Born in Chingola, Zambia in 1952, Chisanga Puta-Chekwe studied at Birmingham University in the UK before going to Oxford to read for a second undergraduate degree in PPE (philosophy, politics and economics). Returning to Zambia, he practised as a lawyer, focusing on human rights, which led to his detention as a political prisoner for three years. After moving to Canada where he founded the Chekwe consultancy before going on to take roles in Canadian public service, including serving as Deputy Minister for Citizenship and Immigration. Puta-Chekwe is now President of the Masomo Education Foundation, and he continues to serve on Rhodes Scholarship selection committees for Zambia. This narrative is excerpted from an interview with the Rhodes Trust on 7 October 2024.
‘I learned that privilege comes with responsibility and duty’
I was born at a very interesting time, a year before the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasa was imposed on Rhodesia. That lasted only ten years, and a year after that, Zambia became independent. So, I saw a little bit of the harsher aspects of colonialism, and I also saw the promise of self-government.
My parents essentially entrepreneurs, and I was brought up in an environment of privilege. It took me a long time to appreciate this, but because of my parents’ approach, I did learn that privilege comes with responsibility and duty. And even in the segregated days of Zambia, my father had friends who were European or Asian whose children I got to know. So, I had lots of friends who did not look like me, and I think that did influence my outlook. I felt less burdened by issues of ethnicity.
I started at local education authority schools in Zambia, where I got great encouragement. As a young boy, I had declared to my parents that I wanted to become a lawyer, but as a teenager, I decided that I wanted to do dentistry. That wasn’t possible in Zambian universities then, so, for the last two years of secondary school, my parents arranged for me to go to Sir Williams’ Borlase’s school in Marlow, in the UK. I remember arriving on a grey day, still jet-lagged, and the class was doing mock exams. The teacher said, ‘Well, the African child has to participate. Of course, he won’t pass, but he just can’t sit there.’ I sat and did the exams, and came quite close to the top of the class. There were people in the school who never quite forgave me for that! I have to say that the attitudinal differences in England were noticeable. The question of skin colour hung over me. People were polite, but it took a lot longer to make friends. It wasn’t as natural as it might have been in Zambia.
On applying for the Rhodes Scholarship
At some point, I got tired of studying sciences and went back to my old ambition, to be a lawyer. I could have gone to a number of universities, but my elder brother was in England at that time, studying at the University of Birmingham, so that went to the top of my list. I had vaguely heard about the Rhodes Scholarship, and then, in my last year at Birmingham, I was at a meeting of the university’s international comparative law association and I encountered a young fellow who was a Rhodes Scholar. I have to say, I found him a bit pompous, but I became fascinated by the idea of the Scholarship. When I left the UK and went back to Zambia, I saw the advertisement, and I thought, ‘Well, maybe I should apply and see where the application goes.’
The interview panel was intimidating, because it really was Zambia’s best brains interviewing you. I have to say, though, that naivete was a great asset, at least for me. I just went and was myself. A couple of weeks later, I got a letter telling me that I had won the Scholarship, and they told me that the other Scholar elected from Zambia was Remy Mushota (Zambia & Exeter 1976), who actually went on to be Zambia’s foreign minister.
‘It was a different world’
I certainly appreciated the culture of Oxford but, like so many young people, I did not realise just how privileged and fortunate I was to be studying there. It was quite different from Birmingham, in that the tutorials were one-on-one. It was also a different world in other ways then too. I felt a bit at sea at first, especially in college, and not entirely understood. I remember my first collections at Exeter College, where the tutors review your progress with the Rector. My tutor said, ‘Well, Rector, this pupil writes very well for an African,’ and then he sat back with a look of satisfaction as though he had just paid me a great compliment. Fortunately, the Rector, Greig Barr, was sufficiently enlightened to know that that wasn’t an appropriate statement, but I wasn’t going to speak out, so, I just sat there.
While I was studying in Oxford, I was also actually practising law in Zambia, because, having qualified as an advocate, I had to do a certain number of hours. That was a challenge, but I still managed to find the time to become president of the Oxford Africa Society, which was hugely enjoyable and became a great success. I’ve maintained contact with most of the friends I made there, and I’m pleased to see that the Africa Society is still going strong today.
‘I had to respond, and damn the consequences’
I went back to Zambia to practise as a lawyer. By then, the country was no longer a democracy but a one-party dictatorship. I worked in a practice that combined corporate law and human rights law, which was a blessing, because the income from our corporate clients paid for our human rights works. I represented one man who was detained and it took almost two years before he was charged. I was very vigorous in defending him, contacting Amnesty International and going on campaigns. The authorities got it into their heads that they would never succeed in this case if I was at large, and so, I was myself detained without charge or trial, until the international noise around my case became an embarrassment to the government and I was released.
People have sometimes asked me whether being detained is something I regret, but I don’t regret it. Yes, it was a terrible thing, but in those circumstances, it was just something that someone like me had to go through. I would not have been honest to myself, having the power of a lawyer, having the responsibility of a Rhodes Scholar, if I had just sat back and said, ‘Oh, well, you know, another person was detained without trial, and somebody was shot by the police. Too bad, let’s move on.’ That was my fight. I had to respond, and damn the consequences.
After I was released, I went back to practising law, and then my family and I decided to move to Canada. I did not have a job there, and as an immigrant, it proved harder than I had imagined to get work. I set up the Chekwe consultancy, offering to sort out problems for companies and organisations. I was very fortunate to have a contact at the Canadian International Development Agency, and after doing some work for them, I was contacted to ask whether I wanted a part-time position with the Criminal Injuries Compensation Board. That led on to a range of positions, including as executive director for Oxfam Canada and then working for the Ontario government as chair of their tribunals for rental housing tribunal and social benefits. Eventually, I became Deputy Minister for Citizenship and Immigration, which was fascinating.
I retired in 2015 and have held a number of other roles since then. My focus now is twofold: I’m a member of the Ontario College of Social Workers and Social Service Workers, sitting on many of their committees, and I also continue to work with the Masomo Education Foundation, which I helped to found. We offer funding to support talented students in Zambia so that they can go on to university, and I can honestly say that I have never felt such satisfaction in anything I’ve done.
'It’s not something you retire from’
I have big dreams for the Rhodes Scholarship. I am confident that the needs of the Scholarship are going to be aligned with the needs of the world. I am hoping that we will have more African Scholarships, and particularly southern African Scholarships. Partly, that’s because where the initial money came from to start the Scholarship, but it’s also because by 2050, one in every four citizens in the world will be African. That means we are going to rely on the African continent for leadership, and there is no better way of developing a leader than through the Rhodes Scholarship.
Rhodes Scholars have been selected after a competitive process. They should always reflect on that and admit that they are privileged. That means understanding that they also have responsibilities and duties. That is what it means to fight the world’s fight. It’s not something you retire from. Whatever your situation, you must find a way to promote those values. More generally, I would say to Rhodes Scholars, listen to your instinct. Knowing who you are is incredibly important.