I'm in Kasama for the weekend so that I can get an extension on my visa and not get deported, but loving the good food and movie-watching on the side at the house. ;) I had some crazy truly cultural experiences in my village the last couple weeks that I know I could never do justice to on this blog but I'll try anyway.
I went to church for the first time in my village. My neighbors are 7th day adventist so they go to church all day on saturdays. I didn't have much going on so I decided to join them a couple weeks ago. Like I've mentioned before, the singing here in Africa is beautiful. Not only do I hear it emenating at night sometimes from the village when the moon is bright and the kids stay out late, but people break into song at random and harmonize with no effort at all. It's like everyone knows their part from birth. The church choir made me stand up in front of everyone in the church while they sang a welcome song to me both in english and bemba. The minister came over and handed me a bible in English so I could follow along. Although I don't consider myself a very religious person and I don't adhere to one specific religion, I felt incredibly welcome and comfortable in this church full of people who don't speak my language and have a different set of beliefs. The sermon was on self-control and temperance, two things I never seem to have much of, but I was impressed with the minister's efforts to make me understand and even throw some English in, and I took the opportunity to work on my Bemba. The service was about 4 hours long and my brain hurt a little by lunchtime so I decided not to come back in the afternoon, but I made a resolve to try and go to at least one service at each church in Lufila. There is a Pentacostal church , Catholic church, and United Church of Zambia. Zambians love them some Jesus! :) If nothing else I'll go for the singing and to connect to more leaders in the community, because EVERYONE goes to church. I'll settle for saying my prayers before I go to bed at night. :)
Another crazy cultural experience I had was attending a women's initiation ceremony in my village. Gong show might be the only way to describe it...I couldn't compare it to anything in America. A couple younger women stopped by my hut just when it was getting dark one night and were saying something about dancing and how they wanted me to come with them. I was a little hesitant because, like pretty much every other encounter with Zambians I only understood about 10% of what they were saying, but decided to go with them. All I was going to do was crawl into my bed with a good book and go to sleep soon...BORING! Well we walked for about an hour to the other side of the village where there were a couple of fires going at someone's hut and lots of women sitting around the fire talking. I greeted all of them (something I've gotten quite good at...next step is more conversation, ha!) and sat with them around the fire for what had to have been a couple more hours, which was cool with me since it was getting pretty cold. The women seemed to vary in age from 20-70...maybe about 30 altogether. Some kept coming in and out of the hut and whatever was inside was a big secret. Finally the women told me I needed to pay to get inside, and of course I didn't bring any money so one of them loaned me 1,000 kwacha (about 30 cents) to get inside the hut. So there we all were, squished into this tiny hut with one candle burning in the corner. And in the center of the room is large falic symbol about a meter tall molded from clay with beans stuck into the sides and circular web of clay beneath it. In the corner were other clay figurines. One was a snake for sure...the others looked like miniature buddhas but I guess were pregnant women with baskets on their heads and babies on their backs and what may be inappopriate things to write about on this blog being done to them. I think these symbolized the "duties" of the women to their husbands. The ceremony was for girls who were about to get married, and was basically a way for the older women in the community to teach their daughters how to please their husbands and run their households. Of course they included me in the initiation (I'm proud to say I can now marry a zambian if I want...although the fact that I refuse to cook nshima and basically can't really cook in general or have a desire to pop out 10 babies makes the pool of zambian men who would want to marry me slim to none.) There was a lot of call and response chanting and singing while 3 women were consistently drumming in the corner. I got up and danced in the middle a few times and they LOVED to see my attempt to move my hips like they do. It must have been pretty comical, but I was really trying hard! As for the initiation, of course me and the other girls being initiated (mind you I'm almost 24 and they are maybe 14 or 15) had to first walk in circles around the falic clay molding, then dance around it, and finally sit on top of it. I'm all about participation in cultural experiences here, but I drew the line at this point. I'll dance till the morning light but hells no was I going to use that thing as a chair.
The dancing, singing, and drumming continued all night. It was so much fun but also taken very seriously by all involved. Women would take turns going in the middle of the circle and girating their hips like crazy. They even went so far as to pretend to be having sex with one another, while mothers pointed out to their daughters who was doing it the best. I was pretty much in shock the entire time, for as un-open as people are here about sex, put a bunch of Zambian women in a room together and there are no boundaries. Probably around 2:00 a.m. I was starting to doze off a little (remember my bedtime is usually around 8 p.m.), so they gave me a blanket and put me to sleep on a reed mat in the hut next door. I couldn't see anything but could hear a baby crying and children whispering, 'musungu! musungu!' (meaning 'white person' in bemba). I was exhausted and freezing so I curled up in the blanket and tried to doze off before any rats or mice scurried over. When the sun came up, the women came and woke me after having been up dancing the entire night. In the light of dawn it really hit me how simplistically Zambians live. I had not been inside another hut in my area, and it made me realize how much stuff I have compared to them. It was pretty empty except for a bed in one room, a reed mat, and a pile of potatoes in the corner. They had probably given me one of maybe two blankets that they owned so I could stay warm. Their own children were probably just using chitenges, yet they would never have let me give the blanket back. They share what they have, no matter how little, no questions asked.
We danced a little more and ate nshima, chicken, and beans for breakfast. I got back to my hut at 10 am and passed out for the rest of the day. It took a couple days to process what had just happened. It was an incredible experience that I feel so lucky to have gotten to the chance to partake in, and as a result I feel a lot closer with some women in my community. They are so eager to show me their traditions, it definitely made me feel more a part of my community. As I've mentioned before, I've never met such amazing women as I have in this country. If they could only realize the power they hold this country would change dramatically for the better.
Well I'm headed down to Lusaka for In-service Training in about 3 weeks, which means community entry period is dunski. I am looking forward to starting work on projects both in my community and in Mpika in September. It will be great to see the other people from my intake at the training, then a group of about 15 of us are headed to Malawi for a week for our first official vacation! Yay for crazy tan-lines. :)
Hope all is well back home. I think about it a lot, although Zambia becomes more and more like home every day. Lately I've really been craving some pizza...that's delivered...to your door...a completely American concept that hasn't quite caught on in Zambia yet.
Much luv from AFRICA. :)
Katie
Friday, July 25, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
It's all fun and games until someone almost drowns...
I can't believe how much has happened in the past few weeks. 5 months ago I would have looked at some of the events of the last month and been in shock that this is actually my life...but after 5 months living in the bush nothing seems to surprise me anymore. My life seems to be one gong show after the other...at times i want to laugh so i don't cry, but most of the time i love it. :)
I just hope I can even begin to truly convey my 4th of July adventure on this blog...I don't know if I've ever laughed so hard while also honestly fearing for my life. Here goes...
As I wrote previously, us Mpika gals celebrated the 4th of July at Kapishya Hot Springs, about 25k west of the Great North Road (my village turnoff, but in the opposite direction). It so far out in the middle of nowhere (hmm sounds familiar...) that they charge $100 USD just to pick up guests from the main road and $300 USD for transport up from Mpika. We all met at the turnoff and luckily Lonnie drove us in to the springs at no cost. The springs make a natural hot (perfect temperature) pool that feed a stream leading to the Mansha River. Senator Gore-Brown, the famed builder of Shiwa House about 20k from the springs, wanted a hot bath after hunting and was shown the springs by his Zambian neighbors. He liked them so much taht he built a cabin right next to them as a weekend getaway for his family. Mark, his grandson, now own the property and his family's cabin became a quaint lodge for guests as the springs were developed into a business to lure tourists. The whole place is a small slice of paradise with cute little chalets by the river, a huge garden, and lots of palm trees. It's a tiny traveler's oasis, the only place to stop and rest for a night or 2 for those traveling between Mpika and Dar es Salaam. There is a nice campsite also run by Mark and his fiance, Mel, on the property. Being Peace Corps volunteers this was clearly our most affordable option, and all of us love to camp so we brought all our gear plus food, pots, and pans and set up our tents right next to the river. We found ourselves feeling a little spoiled by actually having toilet seats to sit on and HOT showers! Camping was luxury compared to our homes in the Bush. We had the place all to ourselves the first night but Mark told us it would be a busy weekend with both the 4th and 2 Zambian holidays coinciding.
Can't forget we are still in Africa so it can get pretty HOT during the day, but it was heaven to sit in the springs at night before going to bed and wake up early every morning to warn ourselves up before th sun rose. We could also bathe in the springs! (I was the cleanest I had been in months...funny, but also kinda gross yeah?) The first morning in the springs we talked with Mark and he told us Lonnie had offered to pay for all 5 of us to go rafting on the river on Sunday (normally $100USD). He also asked if we wanted to have a meal served to us at the lodge on evening. We hadn't budgeted to pay for a meal at the springs and had brought plenty of food to cook over the fire, but he insisted on giving us an amazing deal for a main course on sunday night that we couldn't refuse. At this point it was Friday morning but our mouths were already watering looking forward to sunday!
We met a variety of travelers in our 5 days at the springs. 2 guys in their 20s (one American, one German) who both received their MBAs from Harvard spent a couple nights camping in the middle of a road trip from Capetown to Nairobi and then back to cape town by way of the east coast. We stayed up late talking with them, Mark, Mel, and a random German family about development in Zambia. Mark, although white with a british accent, is a true Zambian born and raised, who speaks fluent Bemba and English, and it was fascinating to listen to what he had to say about foreign aid to Zambia. When Zambia gained its independence in 1964 it was an economic powerhouse in Africa. In the past 44 years it has declined to the 11th poorest nation in the world. A peaceful country that has never experienced civil war, it is even poorer than other African nations that have been war-torn in the past. How does that happen? We talked a lot about what NGOs and free handouts have done to Zambia and how its almost created a culture of learned helplessness. We also discussed the importance of empowering the women here. Unless the women of this country are empowered to realized their own voice and strength Zambia will not develop, because it is the women who do all the work! Although the conversation was incredibly interesting, it reiterated a lot of frustrations we as Peace Corps volunteers experience in our villages. How do you work with the culture here to create sustainable development? No one knows the answer, but the conversation left me encouraged and a little inspired to back to work in my village. Zambians right now are caught between 2 worlds, 2 cultures, their indigenous way of life and that of the imposing western world. And the thing is, no matter how frustrated you get, you can't blame Zambians. But the fact is, Zambia will not develop sustainably until Zambians themselves want it to. It's all in their hands, and we as foreigners can help through education, as we are lucky to have grown up in a prospering country where education is valued by the government. It was great to hear a lot of different opinions regarding development, NGOs, and even Peace Corps.
One thing 2 months in the bush has turned us into is expert campers. there were 2 couples staying at the site next to ours and they said they could tell we had some experience with making fires, creative meals (more like throwing a bunch of stuff in a pot), and being resourceful. We brought our aquatabs along and filled up our nalgenes straight from the river, got our dishes spotless without soap, and stoked some pretty blazing fires with some matches, a little trash, and palm tree branches. One night this huge bus titled "Serengeti Team" pulled into the campground, fully equipped with sinks, tents on top, tables, chairs, spotlights, and old white people. Just a little ridiculous...at one point they were all eating fancy dinners with wine and had a spotlight out, a big fluorescent tubelight (bug zapper? p.s. it's cold season...not a lot of mosquitos) and each person was sporting a headlamp. They rised their hands from a faucet in the bus while a river flowed 10 feet away. I'm pretty sure they didn't speak to any other campers and they were gone by the time we woke up in the morning.
Sunday finally rolled around and were all pumped for a lazy river-esque ride on the raft and a gourmet meal in the evening. If we only knew what we were actually in for...
Although Mark did ask us if we had paddled before, his first cue to throw some lifejackets on board should have been when the raft took off minus 2 of us and headed straight into a tree. Second cue should have been when we spun in circles as Mark and Mel waved goodbye on the shore. So there we were, 5 naive American girls, heading down the crocodile-infested river in our bikinis with 3 wooden paddles and no lifejackets.
What we thought was going to be a lazy river with maybe some small rapids turned out literally to be whitewater rafting. We had lots of fun at first pretending we knew what we were doing, trying not to beach the raft on big rocks or run into thorny palm tree branches. It was of the course the first to be knocked out of the boat but luckily Kathy grabbed my hand just in time and pulled me back up. Trying to avoid hitting a tree, Danialle accidentally stabbed Becky with her paddle, and both bodies and paddles were pretty much flying everywhere as the might African river pushed us along. I'm not sure what caused it, but Kathy and I were the first to be completely knocked out of the raft. Kathy tried to grab my leg as I desperately reached for the raft but it was too late. I swam like a bat out of hell to catch up to the raft and the other girls helped me back on as we grabbed onto a tree to halt the raft and wait for Kathy to catch up. At this point we are all having some good laughs (mostly at my expense since I can't seem to stay in the boat and tend to slightly freak out when in water that may or may not contain a crocodile waiting to chomp off my limbs), celebrating every small victory over the rapids and thinking we can handle it, no problem.
Without warning, we are suddenly on the edge of a waterfall (not a huge one, but big enough that our raft would most likely capsize). All 5 of us go immediately into crisis mode. We stop the raft at the edge, get ourselves and our stuff out, and decide that our best bet is to get the raft over the waterfall and then all jump in afterward. While we are all yelling and not listening to eachother, Kathy slips and falls into the water and is being pulled toward the bottom of the waterfall. I've never seen Kathy stressed or worried before, but I will never forget the look on her face as she yelled to us for help. We were helpless, still standing on top of the waterfall with the raft, and the only thought going through my mind was do I remember my CPR from lifeguard traning because I'm going to have to jump into the falls after her. We were all panicking and trying to get the raft in the water as quickly as possible to get to Kathy, who luckily was now away from the falls but bobbing and floating quickly downstream. Of course the log we are balancing the boat on breaks and I am the only one left standing on top of the waterfall with no raft. I dove into the water and swam like my life depended on it to catch up to the raft. Kath was balancing on a rock downstream and I'm pretty sure none of us breathed until we were all 5 safely back in the boat. It was at this point that we realized we should definitely not be out on this river minus lifejackets, helmets, and someone who knows what they're doing. It didn't make matters better that we had no idea where the vehicle was picking us up to take us back to the springs. We stopped at a fork in the river and rested a little on the shore, asking ourselves what Mark could possibly have been thinking. We had no choice but to get back in the boat and keep on keepin' on. We went over one more small waterfall, this time all staying in the raft, paddled through some areas that looked like perfect crocodile hangouts, and conquered a few more rapids. I kept feeling as if I was in a zoo exhibit for Africa. It was pretty surreal hos beautifully and essentially African the river and area was. I have expected to see people watching us, safely on the other side of a glass barrier. 3 hours after starting off (we found out later the trip should have only taken 1.5 hours), we saw the vehicle that would bring us back to Kapishya. We survived! Although there's truth to the statement that we should not have been out there by ourselves on that river, we had teh time of our lives and I'm secretly glad Mark didn't warn us about it ahead of time. A rule of thumb in Africa is to go into every situation with no expectations...you just gotta go with the flow and have faith that things will work out.
We were still on a high at dinner that night, and it was the best meal I've since since I got to Zambia. What's funny is the main cours was lasagna, something I would have gotten too excited about back in America, but the cheese was creamy goodness and the entire meal was both prepared for us and different from what we eat here every day. We were literally licking the bowls and plates clean. There were 2 british girls from Lusaka eating with us at our table. Poor girls had to eat in self-defense out of fear that we might actually take the food off their plates. The other "higher-paying" customers at the 3-course table were taking their time eating and having intellectual conversation while we were inhaling our food while also still talking about food and laughing about our rafting experience earlier that day. We were like the kids' table at family gatherings!
Our stomachs both bull and satisfied for the first time in way too long, combined with feeling emotionally and physically drained from the trauma of the day...needless to say we slept like rocks sunday night. We decided to head back to our villages on Tuesday, so Monday night Becky and I ended up hanging out at the bar with Mark, Mel, and a bunch of Brits. Becky and I hung out behind the bar with Mark for awhile and although we probably spent more than we should have we bonded with Mark and Mel and they even bought us a couple rounds. :)
Althought the break was nice and refreshing, I was looking forward to getting back home to Lufila, especially to my nice warm bed. :) Of course my bike broke while cycling to the tarmac before going to the springs and I had to bike on 1 gear for about 20k, so before I could cycle back to Lufila I had to spend a couple days in Mpika and wait for Lameck, who works for the Peace Corps in Northern Province, to drive up to my turnoff where I had to leave the bike and attempt to fix it. I stayed a couple days with Becky and we decided on a whim to get braided extensions in our hair, called "Plaiting" in Zambia. Picture 2 white girls wandering through the market looking for "Pretty Woman" fake hair (the brand to get apparently). We settled on "Darling" in reddish-brown. Although we clearly look pretty ridiculous, we provided the village entertainment while 4 women braided our hair for about 5 hours. They even fed us! It was a fun day-long even and we figured if nothing else we would do it just for the humor factor. So now we have long Zambian braids (actually Becky's have already fallen out, but I'm still sporting mine), but we basically look Jamaican. :)
Turns out I'm quickly running out of kwacha, but I have some more crazy stories that I'll try to write about this weekend when I have to go to Kasama to extend my visa. Much luv from the African Bush! Hope all is well ku America. Miss you more than lasagna...:)
Katie
I just hope I can even begin to truly convey my 4th of July adventure on this blog...I don't know if I've ever laughed so hard while also honestly fearing for my life. Here goes...
As I wrote previously, us Mpika gals celebrated the 4th of July at Kapishya Hot Springs, about 25k west of the Great North Road (my village turnoff, but in the opposite direction). It so far out in the middle of nowhere (hmm sounds familiar...) that they charge $100 USD just to pick up guests from the main road and $300 USD for transport up from Mpika. We all met at the turnoff and luckily Lonnie drove us in to the springs at no cost. The springs make a natural hot (perfect temperature) pool that feed a stream leading to the Mansha River. Senator Gore-Brown, the famed builder of Shiwa House about 20k from the springs, wanted a hot bath after hunting and was shown the springs by his Zambian neighbors. He liked them so much taht he built a cabin right next to them as a weekend getaway for his family. Mark, his grandson, now own the property and his family's cabin became a quaint lodge for guests as the springs were developed into a business to lure tourists. The whole place is a small slice of paradise with cute little chalets by the river, a huge garden, and lots of palm trees. It's a tiny traveler's oasis, the only place to stop and rest for a night or 2 for those traveling between Mpika and Dar es Salaam. There is a nice campsite also run by Mark and his fiance, Mel, on the property. Being Peace Corps volunteers this was clearly our most affordable option, and all of us love to camp so we brought all our gear plus food, pots, and pans and set up our tents right next to the river. We found ourselves feeling a little spoiled by actually having toilet seats to sit on and HOT showers! Camping was luxury compared to our homes in the Bush. We had the place all to ourselves the first night but Mark told us it would be a busy weekend with both the 4th and 2 Zambian holidays coinciding.
Can't forget we are still in Africa so it can get pretty HOT during the day, but it was heaven to sit in the springs at night before going to bed and wake up early every morning to warn ourselves up before th sun rose. We could also bathe in the springs! (I was the cleanest I had been in months...funny, but also kinda gross yeah?) The first morning in the springs we talked with Mark and he told us Lonnie had offered to pay for all 5 of us to go rafting on the river on Sunday (normally $100USD). He also asked if we wanted to have a meal served to us at the lodge on evening. We hadn't budgeted to pay for a meal at the springs and had brought plenty of food to cook over the fire, but he insisted on giving us an amazing deal for a main course on sunday night that we couldn't refuse. At this point it was Friday morning but our mouths were already watering looking forward to sunday!
We met a variety of travelers in our 5 days at the springs. 2 guys in their 20s (one American, one German) who both received their MBAs from Harvard spent a couple nights camping in the middle of a road trip from Capetown to Nairobi and then back to cape town by way of the east coast. We stayed up late talking with them, Mark, Mel, and a random German family about development in Zambia. Mark, although white with a british accent, is a true Zambian born and raised, who speaks fluent Bemba and English, and it was fascinating to listen to what he had to say about foreign aid to Zambia. When Zambia gained its independence in 1964 it was an economic powerhouse in Africa. In the past 44 years it has declined to the 11th poorest nation in the world. A peaceful country that has never experienced civil war, it is even poorer than other African nations that have been war-torn in the past. How does that happen? We talked a lot about what NGOs and free handouts have done to Zambia and how its almost created a culture of learned helplessness. We also discussed the importance of empowering the women here. Unless the women of this country are empowered to realized their own voice and strength Zambia will not develop, because it is the women who do all the work! Although the conversation was incredibly interesting, it reiterated a lot of frustrations we as Peace Corps volunteers experience in our villages. How do you work with the culture here to create sustainable development? No one knows the answer, but the conversation left me encouraged and a little inspired to back to work in my village. Zambians right now are caught between 2 worlds, 2 cultures, their indigenous way of life and that of the imposing western world. And the thing is, no matter how frustrated you get, you can't blame Zambians. But the fact is, Zambia will not develop sustainably until Zambians themselves want it to. It's all in their hands, and we as foreigners can help through education, as we are lucky to have grown up in a prospering country where education is valued by the government. It was great to hear a lot of different opinions regarding development, NGOs, and even Peace Corps.
One thing 2 months in the bush has turned us into is expert campers. there were 2 couples staying at the site next to ours and they said they could tell we had some experience with making fires, creative meals (more like throwing a bunch of stuff in a pot), and being resourceful. We brought our aquatabs along and filled up our nalgenes straight from the river, got our dishes spotless without soap, and stoked some pretty blazing fires with some matches, a little trash, and palm tree branches. One night this huge bus titled "Serengeti Team" pulled into the campground, fully equipped with sinks, tents on top, tables, chairs, spotlights, and old white people. Just a little ridiculous...at one point they were all eating fancy dinners with wine and had a spotlight out, a big fluorescent tubelight (bug zapper? p.s. it's cold season...not a lot of mosquitos) and each person was sporting a headlamp. They rised their hands from a faucet in the bus while a river flowed 10 feet away. I'm pretty sure they didn't speak to any other campers and they were gone by the time we woke up in the morning.
Sunday finally rolled around and were all pumped for a lazy river-esque ride on the raft and a gourmet meal in the evening. If we only knew what we were actually in for...
Although Mark did ask us if we had paddled before, his first cue to throw some lifejackets on board should have been when the raft took off minus 2 of us and headed straight into a tree. Second cue should have been when we spun in circles as Mark and Mel waved goodbye on the shore. So there we were, 5 naive American girls, heading down the crocodile-infested river in our bikinis with 3 wooden paddles and no lifejackets.
What we thought was going to be a lazy river with maybe some small rapids turned out literally to be whitewater rafting. We had lots of fun at first pretending we knew what we were doing, trying not to beach the raft on big rocks or run into thorny palm tree branches. It was of the course the first to be knocked out of the boat but luckily Kathy grabbed my hand just in time and pulled me back up. Trying to avoid hitting a tree, Danialle accidentally stabbed Becky with her paddle, and both bodies and paddles were pretty much flying everywhere as the might African river pushed us along. I'm not sure what caused it, but Kathy and I were the first to be completely knocked out of the raft. Kathy tried to grab my leg as I desperately reached for the raft but it was too late. I swam like a bat out of hell to catch up to the raft and the other girls helped me back on as we grabbed onto a tree to halt the raft and wait for Kathy to catch up. At this point we are all having some good laughs (mostly at my expense since I can't seem to stay in the boat and tend to slightly freak out when in water that may or may not contain a crocodile waiting to chomp off my limbs), celebrating every small victory over the rapids and thinking we can handle it, no problem.
Without warning, we are suddenly on the edge of a waterfall (not a huge one, but big enough that our raft would most likely capsize). All 5 of us go immediately into crisis mode. We stop the raft at the edge, get ourselves and our stuff out, and decide that our best bet is to get the raft over the waterfall and then all jump in afterward. While we are all yelling and not listening to eachother, Kathy slips and falls into the water and is being pulled toward the bottom of the waterfall. I've never seen Kathy stressed or worried before, but I will never forget the look on her face as she yelled to us for help. We were helpless, still standing on top of the waterfall with the raft, and the only thought going through my mind was do I remember my CPR from lifeguard traning because I'm going to have to jump into the falls after her. We were all panicking and trying to get the raft in the water as quickly as possible to get to Kathy, who luckily was now away from the falls but bobbing and floating quickly downstream. Of course the log we are balancing the boat on breaks and I am the only one left standing on top of the waterfall with no raft. I dove into the water and swam like my life depended on it to catch up to the raft. Kath was balancing on a rock downstream and I'm pretty sure none of us breathed until we were all 5 safely back in the boat. It was at this point that we realized we should definitely not be out on this river minus lifejackets, helmets, and someone who knows what they're doing. It didn't make matters better that we had no idea where the vehicle was picking us up to take us back to the springs. We stopped at a fork in the river and rested a little on the shore, asking ourselves what Mark could possibly have been thinking. We had no choice but to get back in the boat and keep on keepin' on. We went over one more small waterfall, this time all staying in the raft, paddled through some areas that looked like perfect crocodile hangouts, and conquered a few more rapids. I kept feeling as if I was in a zoo exhibit for Africa. It was pretty surreal hos beautifully and essentially African the river and area was. I have expected to see people watching us, safely on the other side of a glass barrier. 3 hours after starting off (we found out later the trip should have only taken 1.5 hours), we saw the vehicle that would bring us back to Kapishya. We survived! Although there's truth to the statement that we should not have been out there by ourselves on that river, we had teh time of our lives and I'm secretly glad Mark didn't warn us about it ahead of time. A rule of thumb in Africa is to go into every situation with no expectations...you just gotta go with the flow and have faith that things will work out.
We were still on a high at dinner that night, and it was the best meal I've since since I got to Zambia. What's funny is the main cours was lasagna, something I would have gotten too excited about back in America, but the cheese was creamy goodness and the entire meal was both prepared for us and different from what we eat here every day. We were literally licking the bowls and plates clean. There were 2 british girls from Lusaka eating with us at our table. Poor girls had to eat in self-defense out of fear that we might actually take the food off their plates. The other "higher-paying" customers at the 3-course table were taking their time eating and having intellectual conversation while we were inhaling our food while also still talking about food and laughing about our rafting experience earlier that day. We were like the kids' table at family gatherings!
Our stomachs both bull and satisfied for the first time in way too long, combined with feeling emotionally and physically drained from the trauma of the day...needless to say we slept like rocks sunday night. We decided to head back to our villages on Tuesday, so Monday night Becky and I ended up hanging out at the bar with Mark, Mel, and a bunch of Brits. Becky and I hung out behind the bar with Mark for awhile and although we probably spent more than we should have we bonded with Mark and Mel and they even bought us a couple rounds. :)
Althought the break was nice and refreshing, I was looking forward to getting back home to Lufila, especially to my nice warm bed. :) Of course my bike broke while cycling to the tarmac before going to the springs and I had to bike on 1 gear for about 20k, so before I could cycle back to Lufila I had to spend a couple days in Mpika and wait for Lameck, who works for the Peace Corps in Northern Province, to drive up to my turnoff where I had to leave the bike and attempt to fix it. I stayed a couple days with Becky and we decided on a whim to get braided extensions in our hair, called "Plaiting" in Zambia. Picture 2 white girls wandering through the market looking for "Pretty Woman" fake hair (the brand to get apparently). We settled on "Darling" in reddish-brown. Although we clearly look pretty ridiculous, we provided the village entertainment while 4 women braided our hair for about 5 hours. They even fed us! It was a fun day-long even and we figured if nothing else we would do it just for the humor factor. So now we have long Zambian braids (actually Becky's have already fallen out, but I'm still sporting mine), but we basically look Jamaican. :)
Turns out I'm quickly running out of kwacha, but I have some more crazy stories that I'll try to write about this weekend when I have to go to Kasama to extend my visa. Much luv from the African Bush! Hope all is well ku America. Miss you more than lasagna...:)
Katie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)