Lusaka–Ndola “Dual Carriageway”: Is the UPND Rebranding a Road Extension as a National Milestone

By Kapya Kaoma

Recently, I’ve been struggling with what should be a straightforward question. Is the UPND government building a new dual carriageway between Lusaka and Ndola, or are they simply adding two more lanes to an existing road?

This is not a question of grammar or semantics. It is an important question we must answer as it relates to the politics of infrastructure in the nation. In construction, the difference between building something new and extending something old is not just technical, it’s financial and political. If I add two rooms to my house, I don’t claim to have built a brand-new house. Why, then, is the government selling an extension as a groundbreaking achievement?

From the beginning, the Lusaka–Ndola road project has been riddled with contradictions. Construction progress has appeared sporadic and uncoordinated. It only made sense when we learned — astonishingly — that the project had no lead engineer until late last year.

In any serious infrastructure project, that would be a red flag. But here, it was spun as a non-issue. We were told the workers on-site were “all engineers,” so there was no need for a supervising one. That statement is either technically crazy or deliberately misleading. Having people with engineering degrees on-site is not a substitute for qualified project leadership. It’s like having trained doctors in a hospital with no head surgeon or no plan.

The truth may be simpler — and more politically inconvenient. This project is not a completely new road. The additional lanes follow the exact path of the old road, which means this is not a greenfield development. There are no significant route realignments, flyovers, or alternative bypasses. No massive new bridges. No extensive drainage systems being redesigned. What we’re seeing is an expansion, not a reconstruction. A duplication, not a reimagination.

In engineering terms, this distinction is crucial. When you construct a new road, you invest in fresh geotechnical surveys, environmental assessments, and new civil and structural designs. That comes with high costs — and high expectations. But when you extend an old road using pre-existing plans, the complexity (and cost) drops significantly. So, if this is an expansion, then why was the price tag of the initial PF project so heavily criticized? And what are we really paying for given the corruption associated with this administration? The answer lies in politics.

The PF administration, for all its flaws, invested heavily in physical infrastructure. Lusaka saw massive road projects, flyovers, and bypasses — actual engineering works that reshaped how the city functions. Of course, critics rightly questioned the costs and debt burdens. But the work was visible, transformative. The UPND, on the other hand, came into power promising fiscal prudence and transparency. They needed to appear responsible — both economically and politically — while still delivering big-ticket infrastructure to please voters and donors.

So what did they do? They rebranded an extension project as a “new” road. No need for fresh designs. No need to re-engineer drainage. Just follow the old alignment, build two extra lanes, and declare victory. It’s politically safe — no ballooning costs, no groundbreaking risks. But it’s also intellectually dishonest.

Worse still, we risk ending up with a half-baked project. If the old lanes aren’t fully rehabilitated, we may find ourselves with one side of the carriageway crumbling while the other is just breaking in. It’s déjà vu — the same old road, now with twice the lanes and none of the structural reform.

And yet the public narrative remains confused. Most Zambians still believe we’re getting a brand-new dual carriageway. They see the headlines, the ribbon cuttings, the presidential tweets — and assume progress is being made. But as any builder or engineer will tell you, adding two lanes to a tired road without reworking its foundation is a short-term fix. Not a national milestone.

In the end, this isn’t just about tar and gravel — it’s about truth in governance. Infrastructure should not be a tool for political illusion. If we’re simply extending a road, then say so. If we’re repurposing old plans to save money, then own it. But don’t dress up a maintenance project as a generational transformation.

This road may get us to Ndola, but politically, we’re still stuck in a loop — repackaging old promises with a new spin.