I didn't think anyone would be watching when I agreed to talk about health reporting early on a Saturday morning talk show. But they were. Good Morning Zambia

When I was asked to appear on ZNBC's live "Kwacha Good Morning" show recently, I thought it was the least I could do -- literally. It didn't seem likely that very many people would be watching a talk show at 7 o'clock on a Saturday morning but I am always happy to talk about health journalism. And I figured I could at least spread the gospel of media houses establishing dedicated health desks, to the people working at ZNBC, even if no one else watched.

The liklihood of that seemed compounded to me by the impromptu confirmation, which came after 4 on the afternoon of the day before the live show at 7 the next morning.

I remembered a Zambian journalist friend of mine describing her first day as a newspaper reporter here, during which so little activity seemed to take place that she wondered, 'Could this be the day that they just don't put out a newspaper?'

But to her relieved surprise, a newspaper did come out, and it has everyday since, she added. (That is not strictly true -- a couple of times since I've been here, a newspaper or two didn't hit the streets on the morning it was meant for, but it did eventually come out.)

Anyway, I couldn't help but think, with the degree of risk-taking that the late-breaking call implied, that maybe the show was an optional, rather than a regular, of the Saturday morning line-up.

Genetically incapable of showing up at 7:10 for something that airs live at 7:20 I arrived at the studio at 7 a.m., to find myself alone, save for the caterers and a group practicing an excercise routine.

Gradually my fellow guests, a motivational speaker pitching his DVD, some people from the government tourist ministry, and a Swedish agricultural expert showed up.

The hosts, who wore loose cotton African attire, began with small talk between them -- about the weather, which predicably was hot, as it is summer here. It was too hot, they agreed, to do anything. In the meantime, the Swedish agricultural expert arrived wearing a suit, sat next to me, and complained about the air-conditioning in the studio -- too cold, he said.

My turn came after the motivational speaker and the tourism ministry representatives. The hostess hurriedly asked me to repeat my name, and we began.

She followed that with reasonable questions. She agreed that health deserves more coverage than it gets here. What were we doing right in health reporting in the United States, she asked, that I could tell them? I said not much, pointing out that newspapers aren't doing well in the U.S., and laying off health reporting staff. I said the answers are right here, and that a dedicated health desk could establish the expertise and the forum to give health, as well as preventable illnesses that shorten average life expectancy here to 42 years old, their proper due.

She said actually average life expectancy is about 35.

All the more reason to commit some of the resources that are going to covering politics and sports, which divide people, to the common concern of health, I said. She agreed, and mentioned they could use a health desk at ZNBC.

The nicest part, though, was it turned out people, at least people who know me, but didn't know I was going to be on, were watching. I had turned my phone off for the shooting (no, nobody reminded me to), and forgot to turn it back on. Still, the messages have poured in from reporters here saying I did good work for the media here that morning.

The point of all of which is, the power of the media lives here, if we just use it when we can.