Africa » Zambia
Africa » Zambia
Letter 3 (written 6/17) - Sunday, July 8, 2001
by Ratty
Fellow Americans --
Have I mentioned yet how beautiful Zambia is? I believe I have, but the point cannot be overstated. Did I note how wonderfully kind everyone here is? The same goes for that.
Happy Fathers' Day to all. May the waning days of spring in America be as pretty as the waning days of fall here in southern Africa. So far the Zambian fall/winter has been downright bearable, and at times bordering on ideal. Sunny, 22 degree days (that's around 75 degrees F. for you non-metric speakers) that begin at about 6:30 AM and end about 5:30 PM. We're now 4 days away from the shortest day of the year, and a full solar eclipse! Our group of about 20 volunteers and trainers will travel to Kabwe (north of Lusaka, south of Kitwe) to burn our retinas. It'll be nice to have a little break from our very busy and hectic training schedule.
(I'm writing this from the shade of our host parents' hut, and our bamama wants me to write "Mwapona Buti" to you, an afternoon greeting from an amazing woman who speaks about 4 languages, but English not among them.)
Before we're here too long to still notice the little everyday exotic facets of life here, I think I should relay them now: We sleep under white, silky mosquito netting to avoid malaria (the only common, nasty disease here). Our cimbuzi (outhouse) consists of a mud-brick structure and grass thatch roof that encloses a keyhole-shaped hole in the floor, complete with concrete foot pegs as suggested positioning.
Every night we stand outside admiring the Southern Cross, sideways moon, and lack of a north star. In the evenings JP and I both take sponge baths, then eat unidentifiable chicken parts by candlelight with our host father, Briton. (Occasionally Emma also dines with us, but that's fairly unorthodox by Zambian standards. She's also usually too busy tending children, the fire, chickens, washing, etc.) The rolling landscape here is punctuated by 20-foot-tall termite mounds that defy any angle of repose. The difference in plant life on the mounds is remarkable -- all land here has been turned and cultivated at some time, so the mounds are the only unplowed soil.
Our water source is a well 1/4 mile away. (Somehow African water seems to weigh more than American water. Correolis effect, perhaps?) At night we can hear distant neighbors singing in unknown languages. It's amazing how far sound travels absent the constant din of traffic. Light pollution here is likewise nonexistent. The stars, planets, moon and milky way almost knock you down with their clarity and brightness. We've started to take morning runs/walks (JP runs, Rat only walks) to bask in the sunrise and have a few precious moments to ourselves. "Alone time" is a foreign concept here; that has taken some getting used to. The morning bird-call symphony is like no other we've ever heard. It would be worth recording if not for every damn rooster from here to Livingstone trying to outdo the others. I've rarely had such aggressive feelings toward a chicken... they say living in the bush makes you a bit loopy.
Evening now: We just returned from consoling a neighbor whose house burned down -- very sad to see. Apparently she was visiting with our host mother here when one of the kids ran up the road with the news that her home was ablaze. By the time we arrived the house and all of the woman's worldly possessions had been destroyed. As we sat looking at the smoking heap, feebly trying to console her across a language divide, the woman's concern was that Jena and I be comfortably seated on her remaining bags of cornmeal! How very Zambian.
(Next day): I have finally found a bird field guide that includes Zambia. This morning's outing included several new species. Lots of warbler-looking birds with yellows and blacks; a few that are borderline comical with red, green and white plumage.
As part of our cross cultural training (as if living with a Zambian family weren't enough) we traveled halfway to Ndola to visit a chief's palace. Senior Chief Mushili is a frail, older man complete with khaki-clad bodyguards and hundreds of "subjects" (i.e. the 1000+ people that live in the surrounding villages.) He's been a chief since 1961, has 5 wives and has fathered 50 children. We wondered if he knew all of their names. Meeting a man of such high stature is not a simple handshake. Our group of about 15 visitors was first briefed on etiquette, then filed into the outdoor meeting area clapping quietly all the way, sat cross-legged, and after a brief pause in the clapping, gave another round of subdued applause. After a heady 30-second silence, the chief instructed us to relax and sit comfortably, and so the tradition in northern Zambia goes. Not so with chiefs in other regions. Some require visitors to lay in a fetal position, clap, roll over, clap more... ah, how power corrupts.
(An insect the size and sound of a chopper just flew by.) I'm now out of words and space - and the little African bacteria in my gut are threatening to riot. Eat all of the good cheese and red wine that you can, for some others are not so fortunate.
Love to all,
JP & Rat
- Created:
- Tuesday, October 12, 2004 at 12:34 PM