5 years before Apollo 11, a landlocked African nation tried to send teenagers to the Moon to beat the US and USSR, but the failed mission was probably never about the space race at all

When people think of the Cold War-era Space Race, two superpowers usually come to mind: the United States and the Soviet Union. Their rivalry produced historic milestones, from Yuri Gagarin's first human spaceflight to the Apollo Moon landings of 1969. But this contest for cosmic supremacy is not exclusive to the superpowers; a newly independent landlocked African nation briefly dreamed of charting its own path into space.

At the center of that unlikely ambition was Edward Mukuka Nkoloso, a former soldier, teacher, and self-proclaimed scientist who announced that Zambia would beat both the US and the USSR to the Moon. His ambitious vision involved teenage "Afronauts," homemade spacecraft, cats destined for Mars, and unconventional astronaut training that quickly captured international attention. While the program never came close to leaving Earth, Nkoloso's story has since become one of the most remarkable, and debated, chapters in the history of space exploration.

Who was Edward Mukuka Nkoloso?

Born in 1919 in what was then Northern Rhodesia, a British colony that became Zambia in 1964, Edward Mukuka Nkoloso received a missionary education before being drafted by Britain during the Second World War.

According to the Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum, he served as a sergeant in the Northern Rhodesia Regiment's Signal Corps, where he developed an interest in science and used his language skills as a translator for the colonial government.

After returning home, Nkoloso established a school, which he later claimed the British shut down for political reasons. He subsequently worked as a salesman, became involved in Zambia's independence movement, and styled himself as a political organizer and educator. As anti-colonial sentiment gained momentum, he proclaimed himself founder and director of the Zambian National Academy of Science, Space Research, and Philosophy, an organization that would become the foundation of his extraordinary space ambitions.

Zambia's unlikely entry into the Space Race

Northern Rhodesia officially became the independent Republic of Zambia in October 1964, just as the United States and the Soviet Union were locked in an intense race to reach the Moon. Only a week after independence, Time magazine introduced the world to Nkoloso and his bold plans.

It described him as, "grade-school science teacher and the director of Zambia's National Academy of Science, Space Research and Philosophy."

According to the report, Nkoloso had a plan "to beat the U.S. and the Soviet Union to the moon. Already Nkoloso is training twelve Zambian astronauts, including a 16-year-old girl, by spinning them around a tree in an oil drum and teaching them to walk on their hands, 'the only way humans can walk on the moon.'"

The aspiring astronauts became known as "Afronauts," a deliberate play on the Cold War terms "astronaut" and "cosmonaut."

Zambia’s dream of Mars with homemade rockets

Nkoloso's program was far more than a written proposal. Curious journalists who visited Zambia were shown what he described as genuine astronaut training exercises.

According to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, trainees rolled down hills inside 40-gallon oil drums to simulate weightlessness. Others swung from ropes tied to trees using what Nkoloso called the Mulolo system, which he claimed could recreate the sensation of freefall and even serve as a future launch method.

He also unveiled a homemade spacecraft called D-Kalu 1, a drum-shaped vehicle measuring roughly 10 feet long and six feet wide. The name partially honored Zambia's first president, Kenneth David Kaunda, and Nkoloso claimed its aluminum-and-copper construction made it suitable for spaceflight.

His plans grew even more ambitious. He announced that a 17-year-old girl would become Zambia's first astronaut and promised that the country's inaugural launch would take place on 24 October 1964, Zambia's Independence Day, from Independence Stadium. He later claimed the government denied him access to the launch site.

Perhaps most famously, Nkoloso declared that he intended to send trained cats to Mars, adding another surreal chapter to an already extraordinary story.

The search for funding

Grand ambitions required substantial financial backing. According to the Smithsonian, Nkoloso asked the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) for seven billion dollars to fund his program. UNESCO rejected the request.

He also appealed for financial support from Israel, the Soviet Union, the United States, and the United Arab Republic, but none responded. The program survived only through modest donations from individuals around the world.

Without meaningful funding or government backing, the Zambian Space Program gradually lost momentum. Students moved on, training facilities deteriorated, and the dream of launching Afronauts into space quietly faded.

Satire, symbolism, or genuine ambition?

Historians have debated whether Nkoloso truly believed Zambia could reach space or whether his project was partly political theater. American-Zambian author Namwali Serpell, writing for The New Yorker, noted that when the programme collapsed, "the program suffered from a lack of funds," adding that Nkoloso blamed "those imperialist neocolonialists" who were, he insisted, "scared of Zambia's space knowledge."

As Smithsonian explains, many journalists who visited the academy focused on the spectacle while overlooking Nkoloso's broader message.

At a time when newly independent African nations were struggling with poverty, infrastructure, and the legacy of colonialism, the world's superpowers were spending enormous sums competing for prestige in space. In that context, Nkoloso's project can also be viewed as a satirical commentary on Cold War priorities and a symbolic assertion that newly independent African nations deserved a place in humanity's future beyond Earth.