So I am now an official Peace Corps Volunteer as of Friday afternoon. Gina and I are officially united and ready to help our village become healthier and economically more stable. Swear-in day started off with a typical Zambian breakfast in the hotel Peace Corps has been setting us up in every time we go to Lusaka: pink mystery meat, boiled egg, white bread, and beans. I'd had my fill of this, so Gina and I augmented it with a little bit of Zambian granola- yum! Then 35 Peace Corps trainees and 3 Peace Corps volunteers (wives of the 3 married couples in my program) loaded up into vehicles in their best clothes they brought to Zambia. I opted for a little Zambian flair, so in addition to my black patent leathers and dress pants, I had a shirt made with a Zambian flag chitenge. The ceremony started at the Peace Corps headquarters in Lusaka where we gave speeches (in Lunda!) and had the ubiquitous "this is a big day in your lives" speech from the American ambassador to Lusaka. We had a little fun with a song written by one of the Zambian trainers and performed by the volunteers. Then we went to the Zambian state house. This is the equivalent of the White House. Security was surprisingly lacking once we were inside, and while I expected a whirlwind tour of the place, things were pretty relaxed, including monkeys climbing up the trees and peacocks screeching in the distance of the house grounds. We went into the equivalent of the Oval Room where we waited with some Peace Corps officials, ambassadors, Zambian chiefs, heads of aid organizations, and 34 young (and one middle-aged), excited Peace Corps volunteers. This was the first major event for the Zambian president of 28 days, Michael Chilufa Sata, and the first time any Zambian president attended (much less hosted) a Peace Corps volunteer swear-in ceremony. Peace Corps officials tried, successfully I think, to impress upon us the honor that we had that day. So much so that we were a little surprised at how relaxed the atmosphere was at the state house. Key to creating this atmosphere was Sata himself. I wasn't quite sure if his relaxed, matter-of-fact attitude was a testament to being top gun in Zambian politics or his personality. After the new volunteers took a couple of poorly choreographed pictures with him and some other big-wigs, he commented that it was time to go eat. We appreciated his directness. He invited the volunteers to be the first in line to the buffet of buffets, complete with Zambian bush meat, fresh vegetables that were not cooked to death, 12 other pans of good food with Zambian flair, and 5 different desserts, including flan and an awesome bread pudding. After eating, Sata didn't talk much, choosing instead to pick on the ambassadors from various countries. He referred to the chinese ambassador as "Mao Tse-tung". The french ambassador was "the frenchman", and the russian ambassador was "russki". We didn't know if he forgot their real names or if he had such a personal relationship with them that these names were acceptable. I'm guessing with just 28 days in office it was the former. The finale was when Sata instructed the 20-piece band to play the American national anthem, but they didn't know it. Sata apologized to the crowd and said something to the effect that a minister of defense (leader of the band among other things, I suppose) who doesn't know the American national anthem is of of little use to him. Later that evening Gina and I, along with the other married couples and a very hungry single volunteer went out for Thai-food, which was a big splurge on our stipend (about 10 dollars a plate--very close to a day's Peace Corps stipend). Too bad we are not making American salaries anymore!
The following day we started the journey to get permanently placed in our little village, which includes a 4 day layover in Solwezi to relax, process paperwork, and purchase things for our hut. One afternoon we stopped for lunch at one of those places where we had to place our order in one line and pay in another. I went to pay for my lunch and waited behind one person paying for his lunch. As I leaned over to get a good look at a tray of cookies that I wanted to buy, another Zambian approached and moved into the space between me and the paying customer. Since I was leaning to a side as if I wasn't committed to being in line, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and humbly got back in line, or what I thought was the line. A few moments later a second person cut in front of me with not so much as a glance to see how I might react. I realized then I was either getting royally taken advantage of as someone who didn't know the language or I was getting a lesson in person space in Zambia. After getting snubbed twice of my place in line I made sure I didn't lose it again by getting uncomfortably close to the person who was in front of me. So close that when he was finished paying I had to move over to make way for him. But, I didn't lose my place in line again. Hopefully I will be able to find a happy medium between what is considered American personal space in lines and what seemed like a stalking encounter to me.
I learned another lesson in Zambian etiquette at a lodge where several of us new volunteers went to relax and keep cool one afternoon. We had a swimming pool with cascading waterfall and poolside bar nearly to ourselves for several hours. One volunteer was laying by the pool with her drink standing beside her. There was a little bit of remodeling going on off to the side of the pool and one of the workers chose to roll his wheelbarrow load passed her, breaking her glass as he passed. He didn't even say sorry, which is pretty odd for Zambians, who have a habit of saying "Sorry, sorry, sorry" after any little grievance, whether they were involved or not. A little while later a waitress came by and cleaned up the glass. The volunteer pointed to the glass and asked for another. A while later the waitress returned and set down, in the same spot as the previous, a wonderfully cold but EMPTY glass. We all had a belly laugh immediately at this comical misunderstanding. We have found that Zambian waiters and waitresses often ask for precise instructions. For example, if I order a dinner item from the menu, I always get asked "How many" afterwards, as if my skinny stature was their cue to suggest that I might have more than one. So after the broken glass situation, it was clear that the waitress brought back exactly what the volunteer asked for.
After spending a day buying goods and supplies around Solwezi, it is becoming clear that service is a far cry from what you would expect in America. Our model "the customer is always right" is nearly completely flipped on its head in Zambia. When we Americans find ourselves in these awkward situations in Zambia there is a saying: "Zambia wins again", or "ZWA" for short. This is our reminder to ourselves that we are living in a different culture and we are at the mercy of it, and the sooner we get used to it the better off we'll be. It may sound a little pessimistic, but I am closer now to the "getting used to it" side of that pendulum so it is usually a source of comedy when I hear "ZWA" lately. We have heard that there is some mail in Mwinilunga, the nearest town to our village, so we are looking forward to getting that news from the States, probably on Thursday.
But first we have to purchase a few more things on our long list of hut necessities and wants, and then another 4 to 5 hours of driving to get to our new home for the next two years.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Scott Swears in Tomorrow!
Gina’s Post:
More pictures are up thanks to Chris and Yuki! You can check out the web album at:
Below this post is a blog that I wrote several weeks ago, but never had the time in a town with good internet access to post. As with many things in Zambia, good things come to those who wait.
In the meantime, plans changed a little, and instead of me going to Northwest province two weeks before Scott, I decided to stay with him as he finished training in Chipembi due to lack of a cement floor in our new hut. We are hoping that it will be finished by the time we move in come late October. His host family is nice, and I’ve occupied much of my time teaching them camp songs like “The Princess Pat,” teaching them how to make banana fritters, and passing around the homemade PVC pipe hula hoop (thanks Cynthia).
Not too many new things to report except that I did pass my language exam at an intermediate-mid level and it now VERY hot, although we now have a nice mid-afternoon thunderstorm several times to cool things off. Reminds me much of summers in Colorado (minus the fans or air conditioning), and the clouds are absolutely amazing.
Two of the other wives who are waiting for training to end with me also went to the clinic and took the initiative to give a health talk about diarrhea prevention to new mothers at the under 5 clinic. Although we needed an interpreter to translate it into Nyanja, I think it went pretty well.
Scott swears in tomorrow, which is also the Peace Corps Zambia’s 50th anniversary celebration. We get to be in the state house with newly-elected President Sata. I'll try to get pix if they allow it! Scott had an awesome shirt made for him out of Zambian flag chitenge material, although the Lunda speech he was supposed to give got cut from the program after they figured out it was going to be at the states house. Oh well . . . he did a great job giving it to all the host families at cultural day yesterday.
In the meantime, I thought I’d show my own little musing about more local fare tried in the village:
The Lion King
Scott’s family served warthog last night. I tried not to have visions of Pumba in my head as I gulped down very tender savory bones covered with melt-in-your mouth red meat. Along with the staple carbohydrate of roller-ball nshima, they also served it with some really tasty boiled potatoes. So, for a gal not too used to so much carnivorous fare, I would have to say it was just about the best meat and potatoes I ever ate. Apparently Scott’s host father got the bush meat from a friend of his, and ironically, several other volunteers who have host families near us also got warthog last night. Not something I would have every night, but definitely a novelty. As a side, this is probably the first wild creature I have eaten in Zambia, but Scott has had bush meat on two other occasions as well as caterpillars and termites—I guess the termites have a nice deep fried crunch!
Charlotte’s Web
The female pig on Scott’s family’s compound is so pregnant it looks like she could burst any day. She traipses around with her giant belly covered in mud from some nearby mud pit with a few other slightly smaller pigs following her and likes to scratch all day in the mango tree outside our round hut, or sometimes directly ON our hut. I’m really hoping to see cute pink little piglets but don’t know if I’ll get the opportunity as we’re moving to NW province after Scott swears in as an official volunteer. There are also enough friendly little wall spiders that do a fair job of munching the mosquitoes in our hut that sometimes I think I’m living in the middle of Charlotte’s Web, although I did kill what I think was a poisonous one running across our bed the other day.
I do venture to say that the animals that we have now become accustomed living with side-by-side are probably some of the luckiest free-range animals in the world. The villagers seem to have a kind of symbiotic relationship, which is essential considering their lack of refrigeration. The animals kind of just roam from compound to compound munching on whatever is around and somehow know how to make their home every night. Yesterday as Scott was having one of his last classes, we saw a herd of cows wandering through blissfully munching on banana tree leaves. The chickens at Amaama Annie’s were my favorite as about 5 of them had between 2-9 chicks each and you could see little pecking families digging for bugs, foraging for dropped nshima, and flying up to the wash bin to snag a drink of water. My favorite was watching a mama chicken single-beakedly kill a toad and subsequently divide it up for her little young very quickly before the other chicken mamas started pecking at her for their share of the kill. The little girls would help gather the little chicks each evening and let the mamas keep them safe inside of their cooking shelter.
Since our future site has mostly goats and sheep around (the latter looking so much like the former that you sometimes can’t tell the difference except for the ubiquitous “baa” sound and a longer tail), I’m looking forward to utilizing the compost for gardening and possibly even starting a goat milking project. Although first step will be to build a bamboo or thatch fence around our future garden because any hope of keeping these hungry foragers away in the land without boundaries is to fence them away from vegetation that we happen to want to eat.
The roaming phenomenon applies to children as well. Since I have been with Scott’s host family for less than two weeks, I have a very hard time distinguishing which children belong to whom. After 11 weeks, he is better, but can’t always place a child with his or her particular family. It doesn’t help that aunts are very often referred to as “amaamas,” so the kids you think are brothers and sisters for so long actually turn out to be cousins or friends. Good thing they all know me simply as “Mrs. Scott.” One thing I do know is that whenever the hula hoop gets broken out, or people start beating on their jerry can drums, you can guarantee that a nice little group of 3-4 children will quickly multiply to 20 or more. So, when planning village activities, we have to keep in mind that we might just attract the entire neighborhood within a matter of minutes.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gina’s (old) Post from early October:
I will officially be a Peace Corps volunteer this Friday. That is the day our entire CHIP group (health education) will go to the US Ambassador’s office in Lusaka for the fancy event. Scott will join me for the hooplah, and then his RAP (fish farming) group will officially swear in on October 21st. Unfortunately I won’t be able to go to his because I’ll be up in Northwest province preparing our new house before the rains come, which is supposedly mid to late October for Northwest province. We’re in Lusaka today for a banking day, so I wanted to relate the last few events of the CHIP training while we have internet access J.
HIV Education
One of our practicals last week consisted of going to one of the local schools by our training site and teaching about either HIV or empowerment. Since we had only a 45-minute session, Heidi and I chose to teach about HIV and test our own knowledge about HIV and Zambian culture that has been drilled into us for the past 10 weeks. When we arrived at the school, we were pleasantly surprised to find out that we got a 12th grade class of an all-girls boarding school. Most of the girls came from cities, and many were college bound. Their English was impeccable, and they made fun of us for our American accents.
We started with the handshake game that illustrates how quickly the virus can spread when a person doesn’t know they are infected and doesn’t use protection. We then had them do a “race” at the chalkboard where each team got a piece of chalk and the members of each team had to write a word or phrase on the board having to do with HIV. We got everything from “human immudeficiency virus” to “condom” to “virgin power” to “sex before marriage is a sin.” The activity facilitated a nice discussion to some of the myths surrounding HIV transmission in Zambia, and these girls’ role as they are entering one of the highest risk times of their lives—the university. We also talked about the fact that many married couples in Zambia have at least one partner with the virus and what they can do to lower their risk. The girls were excited and wanted our mailing addresses at the end so that we could keep in touch.
It was very refreshing having such an active and knowledgable audience, although we definitely will not have the same level of English proficiency and literacy in the village. In fact, my village only has a school that goes to the 9th grade, and many women drop out at that time to tend the fields.
Election Week!
Election day was September 20th and it was apparent far and wide in Zambia, even in the villages, as carloads of singing Zambians and political parades filled the streets. Peace Corps declared a standfast for all volunteers and trainees, which meant that we couldn’t travel to Chongwe for several days prior to and after the elections, and we also couldn’t leave our homestays the actual day of the elections on the off chance that violence should break out. Most of our Zambian language and technical trainers all left to journey to their respective provinces in order to vote. My host mother, sister and brother all voted, and proudly demonstrated the brown ink on their left thumb as a sign of their voting.
The two most prominent candidates were incumbent president Rufiah Banda and opposition party leader Michael Sata. After two days, no official result had been announced, and you could tell the Zambians were holding tight, and some were questioning why the Zambian government was taking so long, as they said in previous elections, most results come out the following day. Some even suspected the results were being rigged in favor of the incumbent, which is why it took so long.
At 1:30 in the morning of the 23rd, I heard cymbals, screams, and running, mostly coming from the bar of the street. For about 5 minutes I sat in my bed terrified that the result was angry people mad that the election was rigged. Then, as the sounds came closer to my house, I heard “Sata, Sata, Sata” and “wawato, wawato, wawato,” which was his election campaign of row row row your boat. I was shocked as I thought he didn’t have a chance over the incumbent’s well funded campaign. The yells and calls were those of joy in the takeover of a 20-year dominating party. Rufia Banda conceded and Sata was sworn in that very afternoon.
Most of my Zambian trainers were pleased with the result, although my language teacher and host mother were not so happy. I guess just like any democracy, you can’t please everyone . . . but it was an interesting experience to see the democratic process alive in a developing nation. Zambia prides itself in being a country of peace, and except for a few isolated events in Lusaka, election day went off without a hitch and the result was favored by most people I asked. Just like any new president, I’m sure this one will have challenges unimagined while he was campaigning, but it was fun to see the energy of the people that day. Our standfast was lifted the day after his swearing in.
Stir Crazy
I feel like I’m back in high school right now as the weather is just starting to get uncomfortably hot during the day (nights are still cool), and each training session seems like it lasts twice as long as it should. It’s just like every last week of school that I’ve ever remembered. It doesn’t help that a few days ago, the huge ceiling beam of our large nsaka (grass-ceiling open-air meeting pavillian) collapsed while we were in it. The beam itself was made of two long tree trunks roped together—forget about steel beams or treated lumbar around here. Luckily, the ceiling didn’t collapse all the way and everyone quickly got out. The beam is now being held up by three more tree trunks used as crutches to keep the entire structure from crashing down. Needless to say, we are not having class there and have been delegated to a hot, stuffy classroom, which has further perpetuated the “when is this going to be over?” mentality.
We just had interviews with our mentors from the ministry of health to go over the technical objectives, as well as our LPI, which stands for Language Proficiency Interview. It is supposed to be an interview that lasts 15-30 minutes where an officially-trained tester orally assesses one’s language proficiency. It is taped and then scored by a number of trained scorers. Topics can range from anything from basic greetings, to talking about one’s family to anything random. Mine lasted 50 minutes, so I don’t know if it’s good or bad, but I do know that my tester in Lunda asked me very specific questions, such as why I liked teaching yoga to children with disabilities, why it was a problem that women in rural Zambia had so many children, and to explain my application process in Lunda for getting into the Peace Corps. Needless to say, everyone came out of their LPI’s feeling a little tongue tied, but I think everyone in our group passed their various languages.
On Saturday a group of us went to a swimming pool at a lodge in town to celebrate the almost-end of our training and beat the heat. We even talked the manager down to a 5,000 kwacha ($1) discount by saying that we were Peace Corps trainees. It was glorious to bask in the sun and hang out for a few hours until we saw the storm clouds roll in. It had happen once before, but just wind and clouds and not a single drop of rain. This time the rain came down and we quickly got out of the pool in time for a spectacular show of rain, thunder and lightning. It reminded me of a July afternoon in Denver. On the way back, we rode our bikes past Chongwe to pick up a few of the guys’ swearing-in outfits. I and most of the gals already had our colorful chitenge outfits made by local tailors, but the guys chose a tailor in the market that took a week longer to complete the outfits than she already said. Seeing as we have to move from our host families in Chongwe on Wednesday, she was pushing the time limit, which seems to be a trend here in Zambia. Marcus tried on his ostentatious orange-flowered Austin Powers looking shirt and it fit perfectly, minus the button holes that the lady still didn’t put in. Danny put on his authentic looking elephant vest that fit quite nicely until we realized that the elephants were all upside-down and the tailor made the entire vest without realizing that small little detail. We started looking very upset, saying “but the elephant feet, they are up in the air,” and she profusely apologized, offering to give Danny a 5,000 kwacha discount from the 35,000 price it cost to make the vest. I will try my best to post pictures of my lovely poofy-sleeved chitenge outfit when I wear it at swear-in!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Nearly Done Training
Gina's training is close enough to taste, and mine is eagerly awaited, just 2 weeks after her swearing-in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV).
Have you ever played "telephone" ? The game where one person thinks of a short phrase, whispers it to the person next to them, and that person whispers it to the person next to them, and so on, until the last person is reached. That last person then tells all what they heard. Rarely does the last person's phrase equal the first person's phrase. Now imagine doing that in a room full of native English speakers, and native Zambian speakers, of which there are about 5 languages represented. It turns out the original phrase was "what makes oil boil?". By the time it got to me, about 20 people into the crowd, I heard "no word is done". By the time it got to the end, after about 70 people, who were an even mix of English and Zambian language speakers, the phrase was "How can I help you?" A testament to how communication can be in our new environmnent.
The latest highlights:
*At my village visit in which I was immersed in language and culture (Sept 12 - 15) I found that
1) Zambian kids can learn how to play Frisbee pretty fast. They've got a good backhand throw after about 15 minutes and can start attempting a forehand throw after about 1/2 an hour after seeing a Frisbee for what seemed to be the first time.
2) a couple Peace Corps volunteers would have preferred to serve in Vietnam rather than the Peace Corps had they been given the chance when Peace Corps was starting in the 1960s.
3) vaccinating 700 chickens from the New Castle virus can practically double the number of chickens in the village.
4) Zambians love theater. I saw 2 theatrical skits performed by Zambians. I guess when they don't have TV, theater is a natural for many young Zambians.
* while witnessing the slaughter and gutting of a hen at my host family's house, during one of Gina's visits to Chipembi, we saw developing eggs inside the chicken. Cool.
* when sending packages to Zambia, writing in red ink and/or including random bible verses on the package can help shorten/insure the delivery.
* during a day when training was really getting old, I was saved by an impromptu jam session with plastic containers as drums, one of our trainers on guitar, and a couple of co-trainees on vocals.
* election day in a little village in Zambia is pretty quite. Meanwhile, we hear stories of riots in the big cities like Lusaka and Ndola.
* I ate a fish that reminded me of a rainbow trout or even a farm-raised salmon. Memories of Washington State followed...
* 3 days after the election the villagers finally get the results. Getting those results at 1 a.m. didn't stop them from celebrating with drumming and singing. Not much sleep for me that night!
* my host family is having an addition put on their house. As simple as this process appeared to be, the characters were the same: contractor trying to do the work as fast and cheaply as possile while the home-owner watches, eagle-eyed, for any deviations from the plan, of which there are several, much to the contract-less builder.
* Ever had cow's feet for dinner? It is practically a delicacy in Zambia. Three textures exist on this one, none of which resemble meat, but most resemble some sort of degree of jello hardness.
* playing pool in a little corner bar on a mini-pool table with intoxicated Zambians was much more fun than I thought it could be. I won 4 games in a row, which is more a testament to how drunk my opponents were rather than my skill.
* On a site visit to a large-scale fish farm, we saw crocodiles up close. More pictures later. At the farm there is a nice cyclic approach- pig manure feeds fish, fish feed crocodiles, fish and crocodile meat pays for pig feed, repeat.
* Zambians are really big on treating their guests to the meal before anyone else. I have eaten alone more often than I'd like in Zambia. On another site visit into my future village (October 1 to October 4) I had a Zambian sit in a dark corner just 7 ft away while I ate by myself. When I offered food to him, he said he would eat later on. I'm not sure if he was there for moral support or just to see how the white person would handle eating nshima.
* the cacophony of birds early in the morning is worth the early wake-up. My favorite is the one that sounds like someone blowing across the top of a bottle.
* Caterpillars and termites are common foods out in the bush at certain times of the year. Fried, they really aren't that bad. Mom, don't worry, this is not my typical meal.
* At the site visit to my future Zambian village I made grilled cheese sandwiches for my host family. It blew their minds on a couple of different levels, the most significiant of which was a guy cooking for the family. Eating cheese was a close second. I miss cheese!
* Zambians don't like to walk in the rain. I spent 2 hours packed underneath a shelter with a family of 9 waiting for a downpour to pass. I had a raincoat and hat, but my host insisted that we stay dry.
* I saw the fish ponds where I will be living in Northwest Province of Zambia, and met some of the fish farmers. I am eager to start working with them to improve their fish yields and fish size. Some are very excited to be getting help. I hope that they only expect knowledge from me, and not instant cure-alls for their fish farming problems!
* though Gina had planned to go to our site immediately following the end of her training, because our house was not finished she decided to wait until I ended training, so we will be together all the time starting October 7th or so. I am looking forward to sharing Zambia with her on a daily basis.
Have you ever played "telephone" ? The game where one person thinks of a short phrase, whispers it to the person next to them, and that person whispers it to the person next to them, and so on, until the last person is reached. That last person then tells all what they heard. Rarely does the last person's phrase equal the first person's phrase. Now imagine doing that in a room full of native English speakers, and native Zambian speakers, of which there are about 5 languages represented. It turns out the original phrase was "what makes oil boil?". By the time it got to me, about 20 people into the crowd, I heard "no word is done". By the time it got to the end, after about 70 people, who were an even mix of English and Zambian language speakers, the phrase was "How can I help you?" A testament to how communication can be in our new environmnent.
The latest highlights:
*At my village visit in which I was immersed in language and culture (Sept 12 - 15) I found that
1) Zambian kids can learn how to play Frisbee pretty fast. They've got a good backhand throw after about 15 minutes and can start attempting a forehand throw after about 1/2 an hour after seeing a Frisbee for what seemed to be the first time.
2) a couple Peace Corps volunteers would have preferred to serve in Vietnam rather than the Peace Corps had they been given the chance when Peace Corps was starting in the 1960s.
3) vaccinating 700 chickens from the New Castle virus can practically double the number of chickens in the village.
4) Zambians love theater. I saw 2 theatrical skits performed by Zambians. I guess when they don't have TV, theater is a natural for many young Zambians.
* while witnessing the slaughter and gutting of a hen at my host family's house, during one of Gina's visits to Chipembi, we saw developing eggs inside the chicken. Cool.
* when sending packages to Zambia, writing in red ink and/or including random bible verses on the package can help shorten/insure the delivery.
* during a day when training was really getting old, I was saved by an impromptu jam session with plastic containers as drums, one of our trainers on guitar, and a couple of co-trainees on vocals.
* election day in a little village in Zambia is pretty quite. Meanwhile, we hear stories of riots in the big cities like Lusaka and Ndola.
* I ate a fish that reminded me of a rainbow trout or even a farm-raised salmon. Memories of Washington State followed...
* 3 days after the election the villagers finally get the results. Getting those results at 1 a.m. didn't stop them from celebrating with drumming and singing. Not much sleep for me that night!
* my host family is having an addition put on their house. As simple as this process appeared to be, the characters were the same: contractor trying to do the work as fast and cheaply as possile while the home-owner watches, eagle-eyed, for any deviations from the plan, of which there are several, much to the contract-less builder.
* Ever had cow's feet for dinner? It is practically a delicacy in Zambia. Three textures exist on this one, none of which resemble meat, but most resemble some sort of degree of jello hardness.
* playing pool in a little corner bar on a mini-pool table with intoxicated Zambians was much more fun than I thought it could be. I won 4 games in a row, which is more a testament to how drunk my opponents were rather than my skill.
* On a site visit to a large-scale fish farm, we saw crocodiles up close. More pictures later. At the farm there is a nice cyclic approach- pig manure feeds fish, fish feed crocodiles, fish and crocodile meat pays for pig feed, repeat.
* Zambians are really big on treating their guests to the meal before anyone else. I have eaten alone more often than I'd like in Zambia. On another site visit into my future village (October 1 to October 4) I had a Zambian sit in a dark corner just 7 ft away while I ate by myself. When I offered food to him, he said he would eat later on. I'm not sure if he was there for moral support or just to see how the white person would handle eating nshima.
* the cacophony of birds early in the morning is worth the early wake-up. My favorite is the one that sounds like someone blowing across the top of a bottle.
* Caterpillars and termites are common foods out in the bush at certain times of the year. Fried, they really aren't that bad. Mom, don't worry, this is not my typical meal.
* At the site visit to my future Zambian village I made grilled cheese sandwiches for my host family. It blew their minds on a couple of different levels, the most significiant of which was a guy cooking for the family. Eating cheese was a close second. I miss cheese!
* Zambians don't like to walk in the rain. I spent 2 hours packed underneath a shelter with a family of 9 waiting for a downpour to pass. I had a raincoat and hat, but my host insisted that we stay dry.
* I saw the fish ponds where I will be living in Northwest Province of Zambia, and met some of the fish farmers. I am eager to start working with them to improve their fish yields and fish size. Some are very excited to be getting help. I hope that they only expect knowledge from me, and not instant cure-alls for their fish farming problems!
* though Gina had planned to go to our site immediately following the end of her training, because our house was not finished she decided to wait until I ended training, so we will be together all the time starting October 7th or so. I am looking forward to sharing Zambia with her on a daily basis.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)