Ready to Rumble

There's a little saying that some of you may remeber hearing from me that is also getting some air time hear. It goes a little something like this, "everyone looks better in lowlight." In Zambia it take on a whole new world and applies to such a wider variety of things and activities.
At home it explains the dimness in bars, weddings, romantic dinners and Victoria's Secret. In Zambia, however, it allows you to ingnore the eight legged wall decorations, spills on clothing, food in the bowl in front of you, and a number of bits on visible skin-- of course not having a mirror helps with that one too. In low light there is some peace of mind when you can only see an area immediately in front of you--if I can't see it, its not there. And theres just something more special about catipilar dinners in the candle light that the afternoon sun just doesn't capture. In Zambia they don't beleive in full length mirrors either--I mean not that I was thinking about getting one-- so when I see myself in full its my dark silhouette against the white washed mud brick walls of my house, and that is low light at its finest.
What low light isn't good for is trying to find a spider in the dark wool blanket on my bed. And why can spiders jump? It seems a little unecessary personally. I'm not especially fond of spiders, although I would like to think that we have a good working relationship-- atleast at home in Mich. Spiders serve a purpose; to trap and kill other more active pests like mosquitoes, flies and moths. Maybe there is a strike going on that I was not privy to in Africa because they live in harmony with their natural prey all within the confines of my my last line of defense against the whole lot of them, my "treated" net. So instead of affording them (the spiders) the professional courtesy of life and livelihood I have been --somewhat systematically-- evicting, scratch that, exterminating them. All I want is to sleep in peace under my exoctic white mesh safari fort (I can't call it a mosquito net as that would infer it has a utility or ability to protect me from bugs.)

To stay on the tone of insect maladies I will give you a glimps into my new and only real fear in Zambia, Bot Flies. In general flies are merely an irritant in life and participant in the fecal oral cycle. However, the Bot Fly is no ordinary fly; it is the sci-fi horrow movie of flies. A fly, perhaps, even feared by other flies. The following passages may be to much for the delicate stomach so consider yourself warned.
First I will set the scene, in Zambia when doing laundry BaMayos (a term previously discussed in other posts decribing women/ mothers) can't just through things into a washer or dryer. Clothes are hand washed in a bucket, rinsed in a bucket, and ideally hung up on a line--this is where the plots thickens. However, drying lines are not always possible or available, in which case clothes are hung on tree branches, bushes, grassy areas, and fences. In comes the Bot Fly.
What they do is lay eggs on all the previously mentioned places, especially bushes.When clothes ae being dried on these things they pick up eggs and also are open to have fresh new eggs layed on them. Thats gross as is, but it gets worse, much worse.
When you put on these clothes the eggs get onto and into your skin where they begin to grow in the comfort of you flesh. While enjoying the warm cushy land of milk and honey they swell and make a bump under the skin that could be easily confused as a zit. They are going through the life cycle of a larva under your skin and continue to grow and cause the area to enlarge. The pain begins and increases in intensity over the one to two weeks that they mature. If you wise up to the parasite you can apply a vaseline type goo to the area and they will begin to suffocate and break through the skin and goo to breathe. If you see this up close and personal it is reminicent of the scene in the movie "Alien." This of course is horrifying for anyone watching and the host of the Bot Fly. The size can vary from .5 to .75 cm, but seriously guys, do you think it matters?
I watched a good friend of mine have 13 plucked from her derriere--three had already made a break for it of their own volition.

So there you have it. In other news, I swear in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer in less than a week. I am thrilled and so ready to be at my site. I thought that since getting pictures to people is hard that maybe it would be fun if people wanted to send me disposable cameras and I will do a photo diary of a week or a couple days of my life, maybe write a nice letter, and I will send it back to you. Again, no pressure,but it could be fun-- I would make it fun.

I don't know how often I'll have internet access for a while since in Central Province its scarce, although improving. So the best way to communicate with me will be by putting your pen to the paper and writing me. Sorry. I might be getting a cell phone too which you can call or text. More on that as it unfolds. Thank you to everyone who has sent me a letter or package so far, I uber appreciate it. Might be able to sneak on again before I leave but I don't want to get my hopes up.

Keep on keeping on team!

Skip the End

I just got back to my home in the village from Serenje yesterday evening after a long day of "transport." Transport is the blanket term used to describe any method that you get from once place to another. Sometimes hitchi hiking--my personal favorite-- and mostly miserable public busses. Some of you may have gotten a texst message from me about hitching with the 96 Olympic Silver Medalist in the 400M dash. That was a nice ride. On this particular trip home I spent a bit of time sprawled out across some corn meal bags in the bed of a pick up truck soaking up the sun.

I was in Serenje because I was on what is known as "second site visit." Its part of our training where they send us back out into the bush to stay with a volunteer in the area where we will be posted. In case you are wondering I will be posted in Central Province in a village called Chibale. If you looked it up on a map it would be kinda fun to point out to your other friends, just a thought. My new address is ( I think, and I will correct it if I am wrong)

My name (obviously)
P.O. Box 850010
Serenje, Zambia

During my second site visit I was with four other of my friends staying with a volunteer who will be leaving in the next couple weeks. So we had a going away party of sorts in the village. It was a whole new world of partying. They brew there own beer and wine, which honestly I would is not an accurate reference to the actually consistency and taste. The Katata--or beer-- is thick with corn-- or unfiltered as they like to say-- and tastes like nothing beer has ever been associated with. After drinking about 6 mugs full and not getting the nice happy feeling I'm accustomed to when drinking beer I swiched to tea wine which is reminiscent of moon shine, but again with out the efficiency of moon shines alcohol level. Still though, I had an awesome time seeing how a village party is and dancing around the fire and generally being wild.

So more later I hope all is well and I look forward to hearing from you, wink wink.

How do you say...

As you learn a language there is a constant inability to express yourself. My favorite phrase is "mutila shani (insert english word or phrase) ici Bemba?" I really want to say something but the syntax here is a bit goofy and every vocab work I learn equates rouggly to sally sells sea shells by the sea shore.

Wrapping my mind around the idea of being able to fit an entire sentence into one string of letters has been mildly difficult. Take for example the sentence "he was learning" that translates roughly to "balisambilila." I think the the longest string of letters that equals a phrase that I have had to use is about 19 or 20.

Also there are no "r's" in the language, however I think that everyone names there children using the letter R. Take for example my little brother, his name is Bright. They can't say Bright, so they say "Blight." That is kinda humorous to me. Maybe a bit to subtle for the rest of you but what can I say I have a delicate pallet for humor.

I mentioned before how I wanted to write down funny things that happen so I don'tforget to tell you all. Well I think the major problem with that is that maybe it's not funny later. After I looked through the list I made the only one thing was still funny. The event transpired like this...

It was a day like most days in Zambia, sweltering hot and 100 percent humidity. Also like many days I am suffering with an ache in my stomach rivaled only by food poisoning. My Bamayo has just informed me that "ifyafulya ca icuungolo" is ready and that I can come up to the house to eat. At that exact moment something deep and dark in my bowels awoke and I with toilet paper in hand tried as gracefully as possible to fly to the icimbusu (pit toilet).

My icimbusu has a hinged door to shield my private privvy moments from full view of anyone in the front yard. So I am, as I mentioned, trying to gracefully take care of my issues before I go to eat my evening meal of oil soaked leaves and grits. I enter my icimbusu remove the cover over the hole and begin the process of removing one leg of pants so that I do not end up soiling my clothes. At the moment I begin to un button my pants the door ( which I mentioned was shielding me from full view ) fell to the ground with a thud, turning everyone's attention towards me. It may be helpful to know that in Zambia using the toilet is a secretive and highly taboo affair. People will literally go 2K out of there way around the house through the woods and back so that people will not know that they are pottying. Apparently the book "Everybody Poops" didn't make it over here.

Back to the story, I am in my toilet, everyone is seeing me, and I have a demon to exorcise in my tummy. I re-button my pants and move out into the yard. I pick up the door ratherly dumbly and kind of just stand there not sure what to do. Meanwhile, there are tiny erruptions of anger in my stomach alerting me to the urgency of my situation. After what seemd like an eternity my Bataata come over and looks at me dumbly while I apologize for the door falling off even though I myself did not cause the thing to break.

He stares at the erroded and rusty hinge and then yells to my Bamayo for tools. Meantime my Bamayo makes me go inside to eat dinner. So i sat and ate dinner, because thats what you do. I'm sure you can imagine the anguish. I hope you enjoyed.

Check this out too, http://www.tamaniproject.com/joomla/index.php?option=com_gallery2&Itemid=88&g2_view=core.ShowItem&g2_itemId=177 there some pictures of me around and my group!

Lady in Red

There are a few things that happen seldomly for me in Zambia, one is having internet access twice in a week, another is sitting on a toilet when using he bathroom. Both have happened today in no particular order. What is more common is hearing "Lady in Red," or Michael Bolten twice in a row, and even non stop Marven Gaye or Lionel Richie while doing a variety of activities like hitching to town, eating lunch with my homestay family or even perusing the local radio stations in the late evening.

Today over lunch it was "Lady in Red." I couldn't help but smile wistfully as it blarred through the ginormous boom box in the dining/living room. When I say blarred, what I mean is that if I close my eyes and had a drink in my hand I could probably pretend that I was at a rave. I'm constantly sweating like I had a party drug cocktail--not that I ever have, this is just based on a Lifetime movie I saw once-- which adds to feeling of being shoulder to shoulder in a warehouse with the music screaming away. Who knew that even "Lady in Red" could conjure that up feeling at certain decibals?

On a completely unrelated note I think that I am losing my hair. One of the side effects of the Malaria meds we take is hair loss but I was secretely hoping that would skip me and I could just stick with the "vivid dreams" or maybe loss of balance--that would be fun on bike. I brushed my hair last night and came away with a solid handful. I don' t think that it is all from one place but my hair is not exactly thick as it is, "I can't spare a square" so to speak. Maybe I can call locks of love and get my hair back. I look into it.

I've been getting crabby with myself whenever I get to town because I forget half the funny stuff that I was meaning to tell people. I thought about writing it down but that seemed weird to me. I'll try hard to have something good for you on Sunday. We're going to a Dam on Saturday where we will be having a BarBQue so I bet I'll have something good.

Keep on keeping on....