I’ve been in Zambia over a year. My existence here has become normalized in my mind. I guess you could say I’ve found my niche in this country and constructed a comfort zone which tends to make one less in awe of the goings on around them or at least of their absurdity. Riding my bike through rural Africa, arguing in kikaonde over a $0.05 price difference for tomatoes with a women along a wooded dirt path, or trying to avoid a zebra that’s grazing on the fairway of the 9th hole of the mine golf club don’t seem quite so novel these days and thus harder to get myself amped up enough in order to write about them. However, as my mom pointed out the other day, she is still immensely interested in my life here. So am I, and if for no other reason than to please my mom and to personally reflect on my current life situation, here is the 12th installment of the blog. I’m averaging almost a post a month…. Not bad in my opinion.
I had a visitor. His name is Pat, ch ch—A good friend and former house mate from college. Pat is currently teaching English in Korea at a robot high school. His visit happened to correlate with a music festival happening on the island of Zanzibar, off the coast of Tanzania. I hitched down to Lusaka, to pick Pat up, on the back of a truck carrying an estimated 5,000 avocados. You might be thinking to yourself that riding on top of avocados for 13 hours sounds tasty, it was. You also might be thinking it would be a bad idea for the avocados to have people on top of them, it is. There were bags of ripe avocados and bags of green ones. People were being instructed as to which bags were suitable for sitting. However about 4 hours outside Lusaka, the skies opened up and an old, stinky, oily tarp was pulled out and stretched across us passengers in the back. Through the ordeal, my friend Katherine, whom I was traveling with ended up on a comfortable soft bed of ripe avocados and had effectively made a lot of guacamole by the time we reached Lusaka. We managed to get to a guest house without having to purchase 200 avocados, but it was slightly awkward and guilt inducing, however putting people on top of avocados in order to make extra cash comes with its hazards I guess.
Pat reached Lusaka the next day and following a couple days in Lusaka where I was trying to finish and submit a grant proposal, we were off to Tanzania. We hitched a couple free rides up to Kapiri where there is another peace corps office/bunkhouse and then caught the train from there to Dar es Salem the next day. The train took a bit over two days to reach, but was a pretty luxurious way to travel. For about $25 we got first class tickets which got us our own compartment and bed. The train went through a large game reserve after crossing the border into Tanzania. Pat got to see giraffes, elephants, wildebeests and a hyena, which helped to alleviate my guilt for not taking him on a safari. The music festival on Zanzibar was held in an old fort in Stone Town and was a lot of fun. Unfortunately my camera is broken, otherwise I’d post some pictures of white sandy beaches and fort packed full of concert goers to make you all jealous.
Due to my poor reading and planning skills, Pat only was able to spend one night in my village. I wish it could have been longer as I was planning of putting him in charge of the literacy club for a bit, but travel is often measured in days and weeks here as oppose to hours and minutes and thus I think we spent about half of Pat’s time in Africa on some sort of transport—an experience in it’s self.
I’m back in the village now, trying to get my gumption up to bike into town. I told the forestry department I’d come meet them today. I wanted to finish this blog before I left so I could post it. I guess it’s done when I say it is. Done.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Off The Road
As many of you know, I haven’t been in Zambia for the past month, but rather off seeing the world. It just so happens that much of the world, for me, exists in Pleasant Hill, Oregon. I was home for Christmas and came to realize through conversation with family and friends that a lot more people read this blog than I originally thought. So, I’m feeling a bit guilty about leaving my readership hanging. There are several blog posts I’ve began over the past few months that I never finished or published so perhaps I’ll post a “lost posts post” (make sense?). Either way, let’s play catch up.
After a great Christmas/new years at home, which needn’t be explained because many of you were a part of it, I hopped on a flight back to Africa. I flew into joburg, got in around 5pm and rushed to the central bus station in hopes of catching the last bus to Lesotho where I was meeting up with a couple of friends—one a peace corps volunteer and another just visiting. Upon arriving at the station I was confronted with the reality that there was no bus leaving for Lesotho that evening and that I’d have to find a place to sleep. I’m usually a bit short on cash these days, but joburg is not a place to spend the night on the street, so I splurged on what I think amounted to, what they call in asia, a love hotel. The first room I was assigned had bedding strewn about and somebody’s abandoned nshima dinner sitting in the corner. I was tired and thought about just crawling into the used bed and perhaps picking at the forgotten food but the idea of the absent minded restless sleeper coming back at 2 in the morning prompted me to exchange rooms.
Anyway, I considered my night spent in joburg as a tactical retreat from my travel plans and the next morning I was up early in hopes of making it to Lesotho and finding Kali and Brittany. The small issue was that I had no phone and the number Kali had sent me for her phone was not working, thus I figured I’d just show up in the capital city, where they said they would be, and attempt to track them down. I mean, you’ve seen Lesotho on a map, it’s small, so how hard could it be to find two white girls who also happen to be looking for me? Well… I took a mini bus to the border and then crossed, took a taxi to the hotel I knew they had been staying the day before, only to find they had checked out earlier that morning and hadn’t left tell of where they would be headed. At this point I thought I might just be having a solo Lesotho vacation. However, I made it to an internet café, where I found kali had left a note for me indicating I should meet them outside a grocery store that afternoon. I found them.
Lesotho is a beautiful mountain country where most of the villages are built at the base or part way up the side of the mountains, I think in order to protect them from the wind. I spent much of my time traveling around, and a mean around as the country is a circle, Lesotho visiting various peace corps volunteers with Kali and Brittany. I found most of the volunteers in Lesotho have gas stoves, which is a huge quality of life improvement over sticks and charcoal, in my opinion. I also found volunteer moral there to be a bit low. There was recently a volunteer murdered in the capital city. From what I can tell he was well loved and his death has had a huge impact on the volunteer community as a whole, especially those that came to Lesotho at the same time, such as Kali and many of her friends I visited. It’s not really my place to comment on the current situation as I’m an outsider and saying too much will probably get me in trouble, but the support volunteers seem to be receiving from peace corps has been coming from the shape up or ship out mentality and as a result their numbers have dropped by about a third due to volunteers quitting or being administratively separated. This aside, my trip was a lot of fun and I even ended up saving a girls life by giving her the Heimlich maneuver after she choked on a large mint. Who knew that people really pulled that move in real life?
Following Lesotho, I hopped back on a bus to joburg where I had to, once again, try to track down a girl in an unfamiliar city, sans phone. Only this time I had never met her—I figured I couldn’t fail. Again I had the address of where she was staying so I figured I’d just saunter up to the front desk and they’d direct me to her. However, upon inquiring, I was told there was no record of such a guest at the hotel and that perhaps I had the name wrong. I wanted to meet up with this lady because she would be flying to Zambia with me the next day, where she was going to work at a clinic in my province as she’s a registered nurse back in the states. Also she had said I could stay in her hotel room and bum the ride she had arranged from the airport. Given the incentives, I decided not to give up on finding her too easily. I managed to finagle free internet from the hotel and proceeded to facebook stalk the girl. I found I had the name right and that the message she had sent me in fact did indicate she would be staying at this hotel. I went back to the front desk and asked them if they were sure that she wasn’t here. And the lady I asked this time said “oh yes of course, she just left”.
I was hungry so I decided I’d pull a stake out from the nando’s across the way from the hotel. How hard could it be to spot a 20 something white girl I’d never met? As I sat there intently (creeply?) watching every young Caucasian lady pass by as I dined on a chicken burger and beer, I came to realized I hadn’t done a sufficient job facebook stalking this girl. I couldn’t even remember whether her hair was blonde or black. I had also chosen a seat in the back of the restaurant so as not to appear too creepy when scoping out those passing by. I had several hunches that I wanted to act on and approach but my location meant I would have to abandon my dinner and chase them down the corridor. So I resigned myself to finishing dinner and then walking back to the hotel. As luck would have it, there was a young lady in the lobby who made eye contact with me, we pointed, laughed and proceed to go out to second dinner. The rest of my trip was pretty uneventful except for me missing my flight the next day.
I’m back in my village now, waiting out a rain storm before I can go get my sweet potatoes planted. Yesterday I spent in the boma where I met with the business association who got a large grant to start up a commercial honey project. I’m excited to be working with them as they have the resources and the initial drive that could help take the honey business here to the next level. Also I got the chance to taste the beer I brewed (thanks Rox) before I left and it’s highly drinkable. I brewed it in a container that used to carry gasoline so there is a slight petrol aroma to it, but I think that adds to the complexity and unique experience… plus it’s the only beer in town. I also found a pretty sweet mountain yesterday about an hour from my front door. I got some good photos of the surrounding landscape in which I live but as you may or may not have noticed, my photos have become a bit messed up both on the internet and here on my computer. So next time I have electricity and internet I’ll try to fix that and get some new ones up. Happy 2011!
After a great Christmas/new years at home, which needn’t be explained because many of you were a part of it, I hopped on a flight back to Africa. I flew into joburg, got in around 5pm and rushed to the central bus station in hopes of catching the last bus to Lesotho where I was meeting up with a couple of friends—one a peace corps volunteer and another just visiting. Upon arriving at the station I was confronted with the reality that there was no bus leaving for Lesotho that evening and that I’d have to find a place to sleep. I’m usually a bit short on cash these days, but joburg is not a place to spend the night on the street, so I splurged on what I think amounted to, what they call in asia, a love hotel. The first room I was assigned had bedding strewn about and somebody’s abandoned nshima dinner sitting in the corner. I was tired and thought about just crawling into the used bed and perhaps picking at the forgotten food but the idea of the absent minded restless sleeper coming back at 2 in the morning prompted me to exchange rooms.
Anyway, I considered my night spent in joburg as a tactical retreat from my travel plans and the next morning I was up early in hopes of making it to Lesotho and finding Kali and Brittany. The small issue was that I had no phone and the number Kali had sent me for her phone was not working, thus I figured I’d just show up in the capital city, where they said they would be, and attempt to track them down. I mean, you’ve seen Lesotho on a map, it’s small, so how hard could it be to find two white girls who also happen to be looking for me? Well… I took a mini bus to the border and then crossed, took a taxi to the hotel I knew they had been staying the day before, only to find they had checked out earlier that morning and hadn’t left tell of where they would be headed. At this point I thought I might just be having a solo Lesotho vacation. However, I made it to an internet café, where I found kali had left a note for me indicating I should meet them outside a grocery store that afternoon. I found them.
Lesotho is a beautiful mountain country where most of the villages are built at the base or part way up the side of the mountains, I think in order to protect them from the wind. I spent much of my time traveling around, and a mean around as the country is a circle, Lesotho visiting various peace corps volunteers with Kali and Brittany. I found most of the volunteers in Lesotho have gas stoves, which is a huge quality of life improvement over sticks and charcoal, in my opinion. I also found volunteer moral there to be a bit low. There was recently a volunteer murdered in the capital city. From what I can tell he was well loved and his death has had a huge impact on the volunteer community as a whole, especially those that came to Lesotho at the same time, such as Kali and many of her friends I visited. It’s not really my place to comment on the current situation as I’m an outsider and saying too much will probably get me in trouble, but the support volunteers seem to be receiving from peace corps has been coming from the shape up or ship out mentality and as a result their numbers have dropped by about a third due to volunteers quitting or being administratively separated. This aside, my trip was a lot of fun and I even ended up saving a girls life by giving her the Heimlich maneuver after she choked on a large mint. Who knew that people really pulled that move in real life?
Following Lesotho, I hopped back on a bus to joburg where I had to, once again, try to track down a girl in an unfamiliar city, sans phone. Only this time I had never met her—I figured I couldn’t fail. Again I had the address of where she was staying so I figured I’d just saunter up to the front desk and they’d direct me to her. However, upon inquiring, I was told there was no record of such a guest at the hotel and that perhaps I had the name wrong. I wanted to meet up with this lady because she would be flying to Zambia with me the next day, where she was going to work at a clinic in my province as she’s a registered nurse back in the states. Also she had said I could stay in her hotel room and bum the ride she had arranged from the airport. Given the incentives, I decided not to give up on finding her too easily. I managed to finagle free internet from the hotel and proceeded to facebook stalk the girl. I found I had the name right and that the message she had sent me in fact did indicate she would be staying at this hotel. I went back to the front desk and asked them if they were sure that she wasn’t here. And the lady I asked this time said “oh yes of course, she just left”.
I was hungry so I decided I’d pull a stake out from the nando’s across the way from the hotel. How hard could it be to spot a 20 something white girl I’d never met? As I sat there intently (creeply?) watching every young Caucasian lady pass by as I dined on a chicken burger and beer, I came to realized I hadn’t done a sufficient job facebook stalking this girl. I couldn’t even remember whether her hair was blonde or black. I had also chosen a seat in the back of the restaurant so as not to appear too creepy when scoping out those passing by. I had several hunches that I wanted to act on and approach but my location meant I would have to abandon my dinner and chase them down the corridor. So I resigned myself to finishing dinner and then walking back to the hotel. As luck would have it, there was a young lady in the lobby who made eye contact with me, we pointed, laughed and proceed to go out to second dinner. The rest of my trip was pretty uneventful except for me missing my flight the next day.
I’m back in my village now, waiting out a rain storm before I can go get my sweet potatoes planted. Yesterday I spent in the boma where I met with the business association who got a large grant to start up a commercial honey project. I’m excited to be working with them as they have the resources and the initial drive that could help take the honey business here to the next level. Also I got the chance to taste the beer I brewed (thanks Rox) before I left and it’s highly drinkable. I brewed it in a container that used to carry gasoline so there is a slight petrol aroma to it, but I think that adds to the complexity and unique experience… plus it’s the only beer in town. I also found a pretty sweet mountain yesterday about an hour from my front door. I got some good photos of the surrounding landscape in which I live but as you may or may not have noticed, my photos have become a bit messed up both on the internet and here on my computer. So next time I have electricity and internet I’ll try to fix that and get some new ones up. Happy 2011!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Back in the saddle again: A bad place to be with horrible diarrhea
Well September has come to a close. By the time I post this it will probably be well into October, but one thing’s for sure, it’s hot now and it will be hotter then. September has been an interesting month. I turned 24 at which point my friend told me I was entering a very unlucky year according to the Shinto calendar. He wasn’t quite done with his unlucky years, but decided he would pass on his charm anyhow, as I probably needed it more than he did. His dog promptly died a week later (R.I.P. Muchima) and he contracted malaria soon thereafter. I fashion myself a man of rationality, but I’ve been keeping the charm with me nonetheless.
I guess charms can’t protect against everything— my dog, Lukatasio, died last week as well. There are quite a few theories going around the village as to the cause of death, but my theory is that it’s somehow connected to the rabies shot I gave him a few days before he died. Anyhow, he’s passed on and I was/am sad, but it’s funny how quickly you get over something like the death of a dog when no one around you cares about dogs the same way we do in the states.
Ha, ok well I was trying to make this blog post the positive follow up to my last one but I guess it’s off to a bad start. Work is going well here. I’m working with a local bee keeping group to try and boost their productivity and gain access to markets. Our bigger plan is to organize the groups within the district so that they can process, package and sell in such a way that they get their honey out of Kasempa where it currently sells for about $1.50 a liter. This project suffered some setbacks as I had to go to Solwezi last week due to “medical issues” which caused some missed meetings. But I’m back now and pacheche pacheche (bit by bit) we’re making progress.
As it turns out, I left Solwezi for my village just in time. The Peace Corps bunk house/office was robbed at gunpoint the day after I left. No one was hurt, but the house was full of new volunteers waiting to get posted to their sights, so it was a bit of a rude welcome to the province. It’s something that I guess could happen anywhere and I have felt safer in Solwezi than I feel in places like Chicago, New York or even Tacoma. But again Solwezi is much smaller and a dynamic area with all the mines and close proximity to the DRC so I guess the small town feel can be deceptive.
I guess charms can’t protect against everything— my dog, Lukatasio, died last week as well. There are quite a few theories going around the village as to the cause of death, but my theory is that it’s somehow connected to the rabies shot I gave him a few days before he died. Anyhow, he’s passed on and I was/am sad, but it’s funny how quickly you get over something like the death of a dog when no one around you cares about dogs the same way we do in the states.
Ha, ok well I was trying to make this blog post the positive follow up to my last one but I guess it’s off to a bad start. Work is going well here. I’m working with a local bee keeping group to try and boost their productivity and gain access to markets. Our bigger plan is to organize the groups within the district so that they can process, package and sell in such a way that they get their honey out of Kasempa where it currently sells for about $1.50 a liter. This project suffered some setbacks as I had to go to Solwezi last week due to “medical issues” which caused some missed meetings. But I’m back now and pacheche pacheche (bit by bit) we’re making progress.
As it turns out, I left Solwezi for my village just in time. The Peace Corps bunk house/office was robbed at gunpoint the day after I left. No one was hurt, but the house was full of new volunteers waiting to get posted to their sights, so it was a bit of a rude welcome to the province. It’s something that I guess could happen anywhere and I have felt safer in Solwezi than I feel in places like Chicago, New York or even Tacoma. But again Solwezi is much smaller and a dynamic area with all the mines and close proximity to the DRC so I guess the small town feel can be deceptive.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Seedless Gripes
I have a great job. I get to work with fascinating people, in a fascinating place, doing work, that if successful, will leave a lasting positive impact on a community as well as myself. I make my own hours, decide what projects I’ll work on and learn something new every day—not to mention I make hundreds and hundreds of Kwacha an hour. It’s hard to complain, yet I’ve found myself this past week reflecting on some of the challenges that come along with this gig.
The vast majority of the challenges stem from the fact that I’m living thousands of miles away from everyone I’ve ever cared about. I’ve missed the death of my Granddad, something I had come to terms with as a probable reality before I left, but nonetheless hard to be the only grandkid not there to say goodbye to a man I loved and respected. Both my two brothers are growing and changing in ways that will shape their lives and it’s a bit hard to swallow that I’m missing out on my chance to help nudge them in what I see as appropriate directions. I know they are doing great on their own, yet as an older brother I like to at least pretend my “wise” advice is given some credence. Friends are forging lives for themselves in which I currently play a minor to nonexistent role and a girl I love is attempting the same. I guess the hard part is the realization that life is dynamic and back home will never be the way I remember it. This isn’t a horrible thing, but enough to cause some melancholy musing once in a while.
The job itself also comes with its own set of hurdles. I don’t speak the language. Sometimes I think I’m getting better but almost as often I feel I’ve taken a step backwards—especially having just come back to the village after a month’s hiatus. I have a lot of ideas I want to get people here excited about, but it’s difficult to get them jazzed to follow somebody who stands up in a meeting and says “I like trees. We can like trees together by having bees.” People are friendly about it, but I can tell a lot of the time we just miss each other.
While like I said, it’s nice to set my own hours, the fact is that I’m supposedly on duty 24/7 while in the village. Sometimes I’m busy, and sometimes I’m not. I know the nature of work here requires quite a bit of waiting around and that it’s important to give myself time to do nothing, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that I could/should be doing something instead of sitting on the porch finishing my third book of the week. There is so much to do here that sometimes I get frustrated working at the village level. The system in which my farmers operate limits their set of options. Part of me wants to go straight to the top and address these issues rather than teaching one at a time to make compost and burn their fields… less often. At the same time, especially when I’m feeling tired; I think it would be nice to have a place where I go to work. A place where someone has decided what it is that I need to do that day and when I finish, I’ve finished.
Anyway I hope this hasn’t come off too gloomy. I just thought it would be good to write about some of the issues that keep life here interesting and challenging so that y’all don’t think I’m spending my days frolicking with monkeys and zebras through some lion kingesque safari advendutre. Zambia is a beautiful and mysterious (to me) place. It challenges me every day and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The vast majority of the challenges stem from the fact that I’m living thousands of miles away from everyone I’ve ever cared about. I’ve missed the death of my Granddad, something I had come to terms with as a probable reality before I left, but nonetheless hard to be the only grandkid not there to say goodbye to a man I loved and respected. Both my two brothers are growing and changing in ways that will shape their lives and it’s a bit hard to swallow that I’m missing out on my chance to help nudge them in what I see as appropriate directions. I know they are doing great on their own, yet as an older brother I like to at least pretend my “wise” advice is given some credence. Friends are forging lives for themselves in which I currently play a minor to nonexistent role and a girl I love is attempting the same. I guess the hard part is the realization that life is dynamic and back home will never be the way I remember it. This isn’t a horrible thing, but enough to cause some melancholy musing once in a while.
The job itself also comes with its own set of hurdles. I don’t speak the language. Sometimes I think I’m getting better but almost as often I feel I’ve taken a step backwards—especially having just come back to the village after a month’s hiatus. I have a lot of ideas I want to get people here excited about, but it’s difficult to get them jazzed to follow somebody who stands up in a meeting and says “I like trees. We can like trees together by having bees.” People are friendly about it, but I can tell a lot of the time we just miss each other.
While like I said, it’s nice to set my own hours, the fact is that I’m supposedly on duty 24/7 while in the village. Sometimes I’m busy, and sometimes I’m not. I know the nature of work here requires quite a bit of waiting around and that it’s important to give myself time to do nothing, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that I could/should be doing something instead of sitting on the porch finishing my third book of the week. There is so much to do here that sometimes I get frustrated working at the village level. The system in which my farmers operate limits their set of options. Part of me wants to go straight to the top and address these issues rather than teaching one at a time to make compost and burn their fields… less often. At the same time, especially when I’m feeling tired; I think it would be nice to have a place where I go to work. A place where someone has decided what it is that I need to do that day and when I finish, I’ve finished.
Anyway I hope this hasn’t come off too gloomy. I just thought it would be good to write about some of the issues that keep life here interesting and challenging so that y’all don’t think I’m spending my days frolicking with monkeys and zebras through some lion kingesque safari advendutre. Zambia is a beautiful and mysterious (to me) place. It challenges me every day and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Out and About
I haven’t felt like writing a blog post for a while which is why I haven’t. Who wants to read something forced? Anyway I have been bouncing around the continent for the past month and am preparing to bike back to my village tomorrow.
The beginning of august found me in Lusaka where I was attending a two week peace corps training session. From there I took my first vacation with friends to Malawi.
Malawi was a lot of fun. We hitched there and had some of the best rides I’ve gotten yet in Peace Corps. The first ride we caught was with the American ambassadors personal driver. He had been to defensive driving school in the states and he had working seatbelts. From there we caught a ride with a very quiet rasta man with a nice pickup and then got in the sleeping bed of a semi truck who took us almost all the way to lake Malawi.
The lake was beautiful and the fish was the best I’ve had in a long time. We stayed there for a few days and then went down to Blantyre where we stayed at the nicest hotel in southern Africa for four days . My friend adam knew the CEO of the company who owned the hotel so we got to stay for free. The breakfast buffet and shower were some of the most sublime experiences I’ve had in a long time.
I’m ready to get back to my village and settle into a more productive existence that doesn’t revolve around finding transportation and dinner. I’ll write more when I have something to say about that.
The beginning of august found me in Lusaka where I was attending a two week peace corps training session. From there I took my first vacation with friends to Malawi.
Malawi was a lot of fun. We hitched there and had some of the best rides I’ve gotten yet in Peace Corps. The first ride we caught was with the American ambassadors personal driver. He had been to defensive driving school in the states and he had working seatbelts. From there we caught a ride with a very quiet rasta man with a nice pickup and then got in the sleeping bed of a semi truck who took us almost all the way to lake Malawi.
The lake was beautiful and the fish was the best I’ve had in a long time. We stayed there for a few days and then went down to Blantyre where we stayed at the nicest hotel in southern Africa for four days . My friend adam knew the CEO of the company who owned the hotel so we got to stay for free. The breakfast buffet and shower were some of the most sublime experiences I’ve had in a long time.
I’m ready to get back to my village and settle into a more productive existence that doesn’t revolve around finding transportation and dinner. I’ll write more when I have something to say about that.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
A Disjointed Effort
I put off writing these posts until I am eminently bound for a sizable population center with internet. Things usually come up and I don’t write anything, so I figured I will just write this post and then pretend it is up to date when I actually post it, which should be in a week or two. I spent this last weekend in Kasempa attending the agriculture show where I found, I think, the only man growing coffee in the district, hence it is 23:30 and I’m writing a blog post in my hut. The coffee is very good and he said he’d hook me up with some seeds if I visit his farm so hopefully I’ll get some more people around here interested in growing coffee, if only for my well being over the next two years.
I made it to Solwezi on my bike trip without much incident. Provincial meetings went well and then I came back (exciting I know). I built a solar cooker the other day out of a cardboard box, wrapping paper from ken’s girlfriend and the plastic cover off my tech manual. It works great, I’ve managed to cook beans rice and then combined the two to make a pseudo chili… it was good though. While on the issue of food, I slaughtered my first goat last week. Uncle Charlie should be proud as the knife he gave me was christened with its first kill. Slaughtering a goat is intense here in that there is no refrigeration so once you kill the thing you are in a race to eat it as fast as possible. I got my meat fix, which is a rarity these days.
This Paragraph is 3 weeks older than the above two but I think my last blog post could be inserted in between and we’d have a coherent time frame. Otherwise, it doesn’t really matter the order of things, so long as they happened.
I attended a burial for a man in my village yesterday morning which marked my first up-close experience with death and funerals in Zambia. I walked the 2k to the burial site with a couple of teacher friends, and arrived fashionably? late just as they were lowering the coffin into the ground. We weren’t the last people to arrive and we even found some leaving as we approached the cemetery. So I guess, like all other events here, attendance is constantly in flux and gatherings don’t begin so much as they begin to grow.
The sounds of the funeral were some of the most eerily beautiful I’ve heard. There was a constant drum beat and women singing accompanied disconcertedly beautifully by the unconstrained wailing of women who must have known the man well (most didn’t, but all are expected to attend a funeral in the village). Even the shovels throwing dirt over the coffin kept time and those men speaking over the grave fit themselves into the overall sound of the event such that they seemed only to be speaking a verse of the larger composition that was the funeral. The light was also intensely beautiful as cemeteries are the only places near population centers where the trees are allowed to grow to their full potential. Thus the light penetrating the canopy was filtered in such a way that everything touched emitted a muted glow. Anyway it’s hard to put into words—it was neat.
I’m in Kasempa at the moment trying to remedy Lukatazho’s (Luke) flea situation. Did I mention I have a puppy? He’s pretty cute and loves pooping under my bed. He’s impossible to take a photo of due to the fact he never stops moving but I’ll work on it cause I’m sure you all can’t wait to see adorable pictures of a puppy as they’re hard to come by.
I made it to Solwezi on my bike trip without much incident. Provincial meetings went well and then I came back (exciting I know). I built a solar cooker the other day out of a cardboard box, wrapping paper from ken’s girlfriend and the plastic cover off my tech manual. It works great, I’ve managed to cook beans rice and then combined the two to make a pseudo chili… it was good though. While on the issue of food, I slaughtered my first goat last week. Uncle Charlie should be proud as the knife he gave me was christened with its first kill. Slaughtering a goat is intense here in that there is no refrigeration so once you kill the thing you are in a race to eat it as fast as possible. I got my meat fix, which is a rarity these days.
This Paragraph is 3 weeks older than the above two but I think my last blog post could be inserted in between and we’d have a coherent time frame. Otherwise, it doesn’t really matter the order of things, so long as they happened.
I attended a burial for a man in my village yesterday morning which marked my first up-close experience with death and funerals in Zambia. I walked the 2k to the burial site with a couple of teacher friends, and arrived fashionably? late just as they were lowering the coffin into the ground. We weren’t the last people to arrive and we even found some leaving as we approached the cemetery. So I guess, like all other events here, attendance is constantly in flux and gatherings don’t begin so much as they begin to grow.
The sounds of the funeral were some of the most eerily beautiful I’ve heard. There was a constant drum beat and women singing accompanied disconcertedly beautifully by the unconstrained wailing of women who must have known the man well (most didn’t, but all are expected to attend a funeral in the village). Even the shovels throwing dirt over the coffin kept time and those men speaking over the grave fit themselves into the overall sound of the event such that they seemed only to be speaking a verse of the larger composition that was the funeral. The light was also intensely beautiful as cemeteries are the only places near population centers where the trees are allowed to grow to their full potential. Thus the light penetrating the canopy was filtered in such a way that everything touched emitted a muted glow. Anyway it’s hard to put into words—it was neat.
I’m in Kasempa at the moment trying to remedy Lukatazho’s (Luke) flea situation. Did I mention I have a puppy? He’s pretty cute and loves pooping under my bed. He’s impossible to take a photo of due to the fact he never stops moving but I’ll work on it cause I’m sure you all can’t wait to see adorable pictures of a puppy as they’re hard to come by.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Temporial thngs
I have a small field of sweet potatoes intercropped with tephrosia trees (an ag forestry tree that we promote) that is about 2k from my house. It was burned down the other day. I spent a while kicking the dirt but all in all am not too upset as this is the time of year that people burn the bush around here for one reason or another. It did get me thinking though about some of the challenges facing long term agricultural development in the region. There exists a limited ability to invest long term in ones land both due to the traditional land tenure system where land is simply on lease from the chief and because every year your field is likely to be burned down whether you start the fire or not. The ability to put into practice growing trees in conjunction with crops is severely limited if you are unable to protect young trees from brush fires. Next year I think I will try to do some preventative burns in order to protect my field.
Anyway, aside from minor day to day frustrations of living in a culture that is not fully my own, life has been great. I’ve recently joined the futbol club in my village and scored the most amazing goal of my life in my first game. It was a cross that got headed out to the top of the box where I chested it down to my foot and volleyed it into the upper right hand corner. The crowd went nuts.
On the work side of things, I’m managing to stay pretty busy I’ve been working with farmers making compost and manure teas as well as trying to keep up with my own garden. I’ve been meeting with some community leaders about an idea for a farmer’s resource library that I want to see built as part of a larger community agriculture shed currently underway and being built by all the co-ops in the catchment area. People have been very enthusiastic about the idea as it would provide, for motivated and interested farmers, an accessible place to gain access to the technical and innovative ideas associated with agro forestry, conservation agriculture, bee keeping, fish farming, permagardening, etc. On that note we have a bee keeping training tentatively set up for early September with one of the new co-ops in my village who is very motivated. They just bought several 100kg bundles of clothes from the Congo which they are now selling for a profit in the boma to generate some start up capital for their bee keeping, oil pressing and rice growing schemes.
I have found that my a large part of my job thus far dictates that I go around and listen to peoples money making schemes and then try to pick out which ones will work and which ones are scams or ill guided. I’m getting better and I have even started to scheme myself. I feel if it wouldn’t get me fired I could start up a couple of capital ventures here that would make me pretty wealthy.
I’m in Solwezi this weekend for the provincial agricultural show and our nation’s birthday. Nothing like being abroad to turn one into a patriot. I think we are slaughtering a goat for the occasion. Anyway I’m a bit rushed so I think I’ll leave off here but I hope to post again soon because I always am forced to leave a lot out.
Anyway, aside from minor day to day frustrations of living in a culture that is not fully my own, life has been great. I’ve recently joined the futbol club in my village and scored the most amazing goal of my life in my first game. It was a cross that got headed out to the top of the box where I chested it down to my foot and volleyed it into the upper right hand corner. The crowd went nuts.
On the work side of things, I’m managing to stay pretty busy I’ve been working with farmers making compost and manure teas as well as trying to keep up with my own garden. I’ve been meeting with some community leaders about an idea for a farmer’s resource library that I want to see built as part of a larger community agriculture shed currently underway and being built by all the co-ops in the catchment area. People have been very enthusiastic about the idea as it would provide, for motivated and interested farmers, an accessible place to gain access to the technical and innovative ideas associated with agro forestry, conservation agriculture, bee keeping, fish farming, permagardening, etc. On that note we have a bee keeping training tentatively set up for early September with one of the new co-ops in my village who is very motivated. They just bought several 100kg bundles of clothes from the Congo which they are now selling for a profit in the boma to generate some start up capital for their bee keeping, oil pressing and rice growing schemes.
I have found that my a large part of my job thus far dictates that I go around and listen to peoples money making schemes and then try to pick out which ones will work and which ones are scams or ill guided. I’m getting better and I have even started to scheme myself. I feel if it wouldn’t get me fired I could start up a couple of capital ventures here that would make me pretty wealthy.
I’m in Solwezi this weekend for the provincial agricultural show and our nation’s birthday. Nothing like being abroad to turn one into a patriot. I think we are slaughtering a goat for the occasion. Anyway I’m a bit rushed so I think I’ll leave off here but I hope to post again soon because I always am forced to leave a lot out.
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