Tomorrow I'll miss you

I only have a few hours left in Germany. It has been quite a rollercoaster. Hanging out with the whole family was fantastic and beautiful and refreshing. Not sure what to report on the adjustment side of the trip. Landing in Frankfurt was emotional, but I still can't really explain. I wasn't sad, happy, fearful or really any one specific feeling....just somewhat overwhelmed.

I had a few days with just Marcey and Heather before the other 3 got here and let me tell you we hit the ground running. I had an epic first impression of Berlin and fell in love. Of course, with any place there are good and bad things, but I really like the feel of this city. I must thank Marcey's friends for the warm reception and their enthusiasm for showing me a grand time. Unsurprisingly Marcey has found genuine people who are each unique and possess the kind of spirit that makes you feel alive.

After Mom, Dad, and Tanner arrived we headed to Quedlinburg (where Heather studied abroad twice). It was a very cute and very historical little town. Beautiful houses and kind people. Her host family was so generous.

Back in Berlin we toured it up and celebrated Marcey's graduation! Oh her graduation day and night can only be described as magical. The photos are beyond hilarity. Which reminds me...I'm sorry for not posting new photos. I was too engaged in enjoying my time here, riding bicycles all over town, riding the U-bahn, eating deliciousness, sight-seeing, being ridiculous with the family, picnicking, sleeping in parks, dancing, and other nonsensical things. Maybe in a few more months (oh, but I did post a few for my undergraduate adviser...so enjoy those).

Now, I'm packing up and tying up loose ends. Marcey, Heather and I are going to enjoy a German brunch, then head to the airport.

Until we meet again in Afrika. Tchuess!

swaying daisies sing a lazy song beneath the sun

Think I’ll begin this blog with updates on organisms not found under the classification Homo sapien. The mama hippo, which lives in the small lake to the east of me, attacked a man who was illegally fishing at midnight. The area of the lake the man was fishing in is well known by all the villagers as the hippo’s territory. The man is still alive, though in the hospital. Riding my bicycle home from town one day, I stopped to talk to a friend traveling in the opposite direction. While we were talking, two men passed on bicycles headed in my direction. Both had big firearms strapped across their backs. This isn’t too unusual, especially since one had an automatic and this is what most military personnel carry, but the other man had a humongous rifle. It was the first rifle I have seen in this country. I noted it, but shrugged it off. After saying good-bye to my friend, I continued my ride home, cutting across a shortcut path through a small forested area. I came out on the feeder road to Phikamalaza and the two men were just ahead of me (they must have taken the long way). They were a bit too far ahead and a bit too speedy on their bikes so I couldn’t stop them. When I asked my villagers about these men I was told they were game rangers and had come to kill the mama hippo. I was a bit upset considering the circumstances (I mean, the man was illegally fishing in a notoriously dangerous area), but as of now they still have not shot the hippo and I think they have even left the area. That same week, two elephants passed less than a kilometer from my house. Yes. Two wild elephants left tracks in the sand and mud in the dambo (same as a draw) just a short walk to the northwest of where I was sleeping. I suggested to my village that maybe, just maybe the elephants were coming to rescue the hippo. I don’t think they believed me.
When I got home from my HIV/AIDS workshop I was told that a pig ate Blanco Pollo. It was a sad day. I was left with four orphan chicks. Then, a hawk picked one off. So I think I’m down to three, but I’m not really sure. However, the circle of life has blessed me with another hen (a gift from my mama’s brother’s second wife). Her name is Bubbles and she doesn’t seem to be very intelligent, even by chicken standards.
The kitties, Gooey Sana and Simon Says are doing fine, sans worms.
It’s sugar cane season.

Now for updates on the Homo sapiens whom I so love. My new baby brother was named after the late Agogo who died in January: Johnston Nyasulu. But the Agogo’s nickname was Scale so this is what everyone calls the baby too.
I am currently in Chipata helping the newest intake shop for their huts. It’s been quite a long few days, but they are all sweethearts and it’s been fun.
I will be reuniting with my dear biological family in LESS THAN 3 WEEKS!!!!! After this shopping adventure in Chipata, I’ll head back to site for a busy week already packed full of activities. Then, I’ll be truckin’ back down here for a Bob Marley festival. Then, scootin’ across the country to ol’ Lusaka. Theeeen, surfin’ the blue skies to zi fatherland (Germany), where I’ll be celebrating Marcey’s graduation from her school of governance in Berlin! Things I’m most excited about: my family, good sausage and even better beer, crazyfast internets (lots o’ photo uploads!), dance clubs, cheese, reliable transportation, reliable water, the ability to go out into public and be completely ignored and/or not stared or yelled at, and the freedom to show the world my whiter-than-a-fishbelly thighs, but most of all I’m excited about hugging my family.
Things I’m slightly apprehensive about: advertisements, pollution, noise (other than the calming effect of chicken squawking), bright lights = less stars, crowds of businessmen with briefcases, shiny objects, over-priced everything, and is there such a thing as over efficiency? If there is, I bet the Germans have mastered it and it will spin my head around. Regardless, I’d say the excitement blows the apprehension out of the water (the water which is currently refusing to flow out of the tap, thus preventing me from taking a much needed shower so that I can make it to my afternoon meeting smelling clean and fresh…Zambian efficiency at its best).

Work is going well. It is definitely picking up. I met with a fish farming group and will be conducting a training session for them on pond management next week.
I’ve been meeting with some active youth groups. At PEPFAR training we received a board game that educates the players about HIV/AIDS. It’s called Edukator. The youth really enjoy playing the game. I taught one youth group how to play Red Rover. They absolutely loved it, except they had a really difficult time pronouncing the name of the game and because this is essential to actually playing the game, we had to rename it with a Tumbuka word: “belelawela,” which means you come over here.

So I know I’ve mentioned before that Zambians interchange their “r’s” and “l’s” quite often. Some are easy to decipher: like cobla instead of cobra, Ellen instead of Erin, Bob Marrey instead of Bob Marley, led instead of red, geoglaphy, engrish, and the rist goes on. Fly and fry trip me up sometimes because they are both English words as do light and right. Some mix-ups are hilarious. Around election time it is really funny when a Zambian wants to talk to you about the “upcoming erections.” Jokes aside, I had my first slip-up the other day. I was discussing the cost of planks for making benches with someone and I said, “Well, how much for just one prank?”

Since arriving in Zambia, I have crocheted 31 beanies (I’ll finish #32 tonight and I have 2 others half finished as well), 4 scarves, and 1 handbag. Obviously, I have a lot of downtime, mostly on account of Zambian time-management skills.

Rainy season is petering out which is good because Simon Says likes to crawl around between the plastic lining and the grass of my roof and this has caused big holes to form where rain now leaks right over my bed.
Also, with the end of lainy season comes the beginning of cold season. I’m not rearry looking forward to it as central heating exists in none of the structures I frequent. But on the blight side, I’ll get to drink more hot chocorate. :)

All of you affiliated with schools, I wish you well during finals. All of you not affiliated with schools, count your blessings! The next time you’ll be hearing from me, I’ll be in Deutschland enjoying the lederhosen!

Typical

Life here is not without its frustrations. One thing that makes things more difficult is the effort required to do basic tasks. Marcey even observed that so much effort goes into everyday, yet so little seems to get done. For example, to travel down here to Chipata the distance is roughly 180km (approximately 110 miles): a distance that in America would most likely take less than 2 hours to cover. It took me over 5 ½ hours (after waiting 2 ½ hours for a ride)! Well, for one thing the road is complete shit so understandably the owner of the car I rode in cared enough about the vehicle to drive ridiculously slow. Then, we stopped a couple times to pick up other passengers, one of which, a lady headed to the hospital and to whom I got the distinct pleasure of being squished up next to, repeatedly threw up in her lap. Well, into her chitenje. Then, she would just ball up that part of the cloth and barf in the next section over. It would have been the most miserable ride had I not been in such a good mood. Why was I? Not really sure. Sometimes Zambia has a mysterious way of making you feel great. Maybe with all the frustration and dispair that can hang so heavy, the brain must just really latch onto the small pleasures scattered throughout each day. Or maybe its just that the situations you find yourself in would be considered so absurb to the person you once were, yet you find yourself void of any surprise. You really have no choice but to just accept the situation for what it is - not what your American brain thinks it should be - and go with it. Eventually, the absurd becomes the typical. Sometimes I wonder if I will be able to discern what is typical in American culture when I get back.

I stayed by myself in the huge provincial house last night. It was ok until the power went out when I was halfway through cooking supper. Luckily we recently purchased a gas powered stove so I was able to finish and eat. It was still pretty freaky. Especially when someone started banging on the gate. I closed myself in my room with 3 candles, a couple beers, and some music. After almost 2 hours the power came back on so I watched a movie, curled up on the couch with a blanket, a mountain of pillows, potato chips and cookies, I felt like a normal American.

So I must also tell you what happened last time I was in Chipata. Cherie, Ashley, Major, and I went to the East Point Discotheque to watch a popular Zambian pop musician perform. His name is Dandy Krazy (look him up. says he’s touring the U.S. maybe you can catch a show). It was quite a cultural experience, I must say. I’m not really even sure how to describe the event. Just know we had a GREAT time. At one point during a break, Cherie announces, “I’m gonna go meet Dandy.” And she just marches off towards the side stage. The rest of us look at each other, shrug, and follow her. We met them and talked awhile and exchanged numbers. Then, we danced on the stage a little. Went to the back club area and danced some more. A very nice, upstanding woman (most likely a prostitute or "sex worker" as is now pc) showed me how to dance like a Zambian. Then, at some unmentionable hour, we made our way back home and crashed. The next day, around lunch time Dandy called Ashley and brought his friends over for lunch. Ashley cooked some spectacular sima, soya, soupu, and chigwagwa. We hung out and talked to them for a few hours. The kraziest things happen here. Countless times have Cherie and I looked at each other and wondered: what the hell just happened?

I also have a new baby brother! Marcey, Anya Theo was pregnant! I had no idea until I got back from Malawi. She had the baby yesterday.

This is all I have energy for. good night and make nice dreams.

Lost in a memory

Happy New Year! And what better way to start the new year than to write a blog...remember the flexibility of time here..in fact, I'm probably still early. I started writing this blog entry in January. Yeeeeeeaaaah. So we’ll start at the obvious place: New Years.

New Years was fun. I spent it in the village. A few days after, however, my Agogo Idah’s husband died. He was the old headman before my Zam-dad. I saw him just a few hours before he died. He was not well. The funeral that followed was quite the cultural experience. I’m still trying to process it. Sure, I had been to a few Zambian funerals before, but this one was right next door, so I got to experience the entire process. First, I helped my family clear the house in complete silence and watched as they tenderly carried the deceased man’s body from one room to another. The village gathered in the sitting room and just outside the house. I sat in a corner. Then, as if on cue the women began wailing and crying and screaming. This went on for hours…well into the night. I went to bed around midnight and got back up at 4. I sat outside the house and watched the sunrise. Then, some men went off to dig the grave and others began constructing the coffin. I never went back into the house. I helped care for my sisters and the small children. People just kept pouring into the village from all directions. There were hundreds as this old headman had been very good and was loved by many. Then, they took the coffin inside the house and you could hear the nails being driven in. Not one person spoke. Preachers stood up and began what I can only imagine was preaching, but it seemed like they were yelling at the people. I think one was drunk. Then, the coffin was brought outside and some women made a circle around it and sang and danced slowly around it. The chief showed up, which at first I thought was quite impressive. But as he gave his speech, he said some of the most disrespectful things I could imagine being said at a funeral…especially in front of the grieving family….with his hand resting on the coffin. After he left, we all proceeded to the gravesite. It was a very long and somber day.

Shortly after, I traveled to Lusaka for In-Service Training. It was so good to see everyone from my intake. They kept us quite busy with sessions and classes and gardening and a counterpart workshop. The most awesome thing that happened, however, was that my sister, Marcey, flew in! Well, that, and I won a lot of kwach at the casino thanks to Sajay, my enabler.

Marcey’s visit was ridiculous, insane, incredible, heart warming, heart wrenching, hot, humid, hilarious, etc. I usually wake up in the village between 6 and 6:30. With Marcey here, we slept in until 7:30 or 8! And let me tell you, my village is a ghost town at that hour. EVERYONE is either at school or at work in their fields….and who said Peace Corps isn’t the real world?

My Zam-fam (Zambian Family) got 2 kittens while I was away! One is a great mouser (with which they are quite pleased), the other has rickets and worms. So many, in fact, that Marcey and I named her “Gooey Sana.” It’s Spanish for “worm” although I’m fairly certain I’m not spelling it right. One night, Marcey went to bed kind of early so I went over to my family’s house to hang out. After about an hour, I went back to my hut to find Marcey, not sleeping, but standing in the middle of my room with a candle. She just looks at me and goes, “Gooey Sana is throwing up under your bed.” So I get on my hands and knees and shine my light under the bed. Sure enough there are several small piles and she is in the back corner hovering over one and scarfin’ it back down. There is a large pile real close to where I am so I shine my light on it and see that it’s moving! Naturally, I freak out. Then, on closer inspection we realize that it isn’t the puke itself that’s moving, but tons of white skinny worms waving and wiggling around! It is like a scene from a horror film. So, I ran to get Idah’s help. I have dealt with grossness here that I never imagined having to deal with and I did it gracefully. But this I just couldn’t handle. Ask Marcey.

Speaking of worms, I was sick the first half of Marcey’s visit and she was sick the last part. :) That did not stop us from gallivanting around the Zambian bush almost everyday (even though I’m pretty sure it was the constant traveling in the unfamiliar heat that got Marcey sick in the first place). We sang lots of Disney songs on our travels. We played netball with the teachers against the students at the school. We got to sit in on a few classes and they sang songs for us! It was really cute. After one week, we went into the BOMA and watched the super bowl rerun….no commercials…it was sorta boring…just wasn't very into it. BUT I did get to make queso from a huge block of velveeta that grandma and grandpa sent me! We made potato wedges and smothered them in cheesy goodness! Along with the beer it almost felt like a genuine American super bowl party…except there were no commercials.

The next day Marcey desperately wanted to get on the internet so she could download readings for the classes she was missing by being here. Pretty important, I will agree, but allow me to expound on the difficulties of interneting in Lundazi. There are 2 known places that like to call themselves internet cafes, but really they are just dark rooms with a few old machines that pass for computers. The first one we walked to is run by an NGO. They buy internet in bundles and when the bytes run out, well, so does your luck. So no luck there, except that they had, in fact, bought more bundles, but no one was sure where they were…really? You just lost your bundles? Just like that? Just misplaced the bytes? After living here for 7 months, I’m the least bit surprised. But several times during Marcey’s visit, including this one, I was reminded of the absurdity of MANY situations in this beautiful country. So we hike over to the other “café” that is run by a religious organization. Turns out they are able to receive the wireless internet that the radio station broadcasts. But they have no vouchers to sell. Yeah. The radio station is back on the other side of town beside the other internet café we just left. So back across town we go. It takes close to an hour to buy our wireless time because the guy selling it isn’t there at first and then he doesn’t have change. When Marcey gets back to the religious café, lo and behold, it still doesn’t work. So, on her way back to where we were staying she stops at the first café where they had miraculously found their lost internets! What should have taken an hour took four. This story should also exemplify for you some of the reasons why it has taken me 2 months to write another blog.

Marcey stayed with me another week. She took astounding photographs. On our last night, we ate Comida. I almost told my mama to cook a different chicken, one that my counterpart had given us. But we decided the new one needed a few months to beef up. I found out that they eat every single part of a chicken. All except this weird skin flap on the butt. They throw that to the dogs. Oh and the feathers. They don’t eat the feathers. But they munch on the toes, feet, head. I even tried a piece of chicken intestine and guess what it tasted like? Chicken, of course. Marcey and I taught them how to bread the chicken before frying it and man, oh man, Comida tasted better than KFC, or even Grandy’s.

Then we headed to Malawi: Marcey, Cherie, and I. It was quite a long trip over to the lake (11 hours and 9 hitches to be exact). We got stuck in a small town/area called Mvera. Yes, MmmmmmVera. For those of you who don’t know, Vera is the lovely name of my even more lovely mother. There is also a very small town in west Texas named Vera. I would drive through it on my way to and from home (in east Texas) during college. It was always a nice reminder of mommy while on the long road. So naturally, I was pleased to have landed in this nice town of Mvera, Malawi, thinking we would surely be graced with a great hitch to get us over to the lake by sunset. Well, Mvera turned out to be a vortex in the universe. We were stuck there waiting for soooo long! Looking back on the experience, even though that town broke us and turned us into delirious lunatics, it taught us patience…and also that I had accidently bought raw eggs instead of boiled eggs in the last town. However, the timing of that discovering was impeccable. Just as Cherie began to laugh at my misfortune (as she is wont to do from time to time), a little old man walked up behind me and said he was hungry. I turned around and said, “Well, I gots 2 eggs here you kin have. They’re raw so be sure n cook’em 'fore ya eat’em.” He looked so bewildered (and not on account of my waning English skills). Eggs are quite expensive and to just be given them by strangers (even though, technically, he asked) is unusual. But really, what was I going to do with them?
Finally, we made it to the lake. Oh, the lake was beautiful. Swimming did my mind, body, and soul wonders, just getting to completely immerse myself in water. It was magical. Magical in that special way that gives you worms. Ha! Yeah. Worms again. So Lake Malawi is known for its schisto. Schisto is a tiny worm that burrows into your skin and lodges itself in your gut somewhere (intestines, bladder, etc). I’m sure google or wiki could explain better than me (if you are going to look it up, know that I’m abbreviating it because I don’t know how to spell it out). Peace Corps won’t treat us for it until we leave at the end of our service. So until then, you can just call me Gooey Sana! You call them worms, I call them uninvited company (but company is company here, so I can’t complain too much).
It rained a lot in Malawi. I hope some of it made it up to my farmers because they have gotten so little this year. But every night there would be a huge downpour that lasted for hours and hours. And every night the roof over my feet would leak and each night the puddle would be larger than the night before. On the morning we left to drop Marcey off at the airport and head back to Zambia (my birthday, in fact), I mentioned the nightly puddles to the girls and explained to Marcey why I had been spooning with her a little more each night. Cherie looks at me and goes: why didn’t you just move the bed over? Cherie's logic = genius.

Not only was Marcey’s visit ridiculous, insane, incredible, heart warming, heart wrenching, hot, humid, hilarious, but it also came with the most inspiring and fulfilling moments. Thank you, my sister and best friend. Thank you for the sacrifice it took to come, monetarily, physically, and scholarly. Thank you for the love and understanding you gave me and my village. Thank you for being there when I cried. Thank you for always making me laugh when I cry. Thank you for the stimulating conversations and the intellectual debates. Thank you for the part of your life that you gave to experience, understand, and live a part of mine. Thank you for being the padoko to my tutuba! Thank you for being the mbasela to my nkuku! Yeah….that last one didn’t make any sense. But then again, neither does my lack of litter box, my inability to buy sunglasses (thanks grandma/pa, I bet you didn't know that I actually needed a pair), nor my irrepressible urge to yell “Booboo’s mama!” at the unsuspecting children.

Enjoy the cold my loves. And the olympics? And for pete’s sake, would someone in Texas drink a Dr. Pepper for me? And Bird, if you get a chance, go to the candy store at the mall and get me a big-o-bag of D.P. jelly beans. I hope they still have'em.

Booboo’s mama!

Merry Christmas to all! And to all Buenos noches!

Wait, that’s Spanish…not chiTumbuka! I’ve been teaching some of my friends here to speak Espanol. It has become a ritual at my hut. Almost every evening, my sister and a few young people that have completed grade 12 (and therefore can speak quite good English) hang out with me. We have leaned quite a lot from each other. I have taught them lots of card games, introduced them to many new genres of music and musicians, talked for great lengths about American culture, and cooked delicious new foods for them (pancakes blew their minds). They tell me all about Zambia from their own perspectives and experiences. It is good to hear this generation’s ideas and views. They are, after all, the ones who are going to make the change and the difference where it really matters.
I’m really surprised at the number of educated individuals that actually complete grade 12 (no easy feat here…there is no free education beyond grade 7 and the cost is ridiculously high, beyond the attainment of most families, especially when they have more than 4 children for whom to pay), yet have no where to go but back home to the village where the only opportunity is to pick up the shovel and hoe and follow in their parents’ struggling footsteps.

I mentioned my Agogo in the last blog. I crocheted her a green hat with a pink and purple flower on it. I don’t think she has taken it off since I gave it to her! She is really cute in it. As always, I will try to post photos…
My Agogo’s name is Idah, as is her granddaughter. Idah the granddaughter is my best friend and sister. She is amazing! If she did well on her grade 9 tests, she will be allowed to continue schooling through grade 12. Grades 10, 11, and 12 cost a family around $200-300 per year. Remember that statistic about Africa that says most families here live on less than $100 a year? Yeah…….

I experienced my first earthquake! There has been some shifting going on in the Great Rift Valley, more over in Malawi, but we are feeling the tremors here. I woke up to my bed shaking. I could simultaneously hear a chicken right outside my wall so my first thought was, “How in the world is that chicken shaking my bed?” Then, I realized how absurd that thought was and blamed the shaking on Mef (my malaria prophylaxis that has been known to cause hallucinations….I’ve only had crazy vivid dreams to date). Later that day, my father, Save Nyasulu (or Zulu for short) told me there was an earthquake and I didn't feel so crazy after all.

My Zambian sister, Idah, gave me a chicken! It is solid white; so naturally, I named it “Blanco Pollo.” While I was at it, I named Idah’s mama chicken “Loco Pollo” because it chases other chickens. The chief gave me a chicken as well! I named it “Comida” because when my sister, Marcey, comes to visit in February (there is not enough room here to express my excitement!!!) she will get to kill and help cook it! Yeah, I don’t think I told you about that yet, Marcey….surprise?

I have really been loving life in my village. I am much more comfortable and happy than I was even a month ago. My relationships with my family here and neighbors strengthen everyday. I’ve met with several fish farmers in the area and have begun advising them on how to improve their current ponds and get them ready to stock with fingerlings. In the upcoming months, I will be conducting management workshops and continue teaching proper feeding techniques. I also helped my father here to measure and dig a new pond!

Development work is difficult. I’m beginning to experience the downsides and flaws of organized (and not so organized) aid programs (Peace Corps included). There is not one simple answer to complex issues. There are many dynamics – cultural, economic, political, historical, religious, local, national, global, generational, etc. – coinciding and colliding. But I didn’t need to come all the way to Africa to figure that one out. I learned it time and time again in college. It is the same in every society and culture. It’s just that…well, I guess I’m just once again realizing how naïve I was before I came. This has been a most humbling and enlightening experience. And the best element is that I continue to discover new things about myself, this culture, American culture, and the natural wonders and cycles of which we are all a part.

Well, right now I’m in Chipata for the holidays (internet has been crap for a few days…). There are 9 of us that came in to celebrate Christmas together at the Provincial house in Chipata. We have been cooking and eating so many delicious dishes. It is so wonderful the people you meet in Peace Corps. I’m talking about the other volunteers. I wasn’t aware of this additional culture with which I would get to interact and become a part of. It is pretty fantastic indeed. There are lots of unique characters and personalities. And it has really broadened my network of friends across the U.S. And it has definitely broadened my repertoire of culinary interests. For breakfast Christmas morning we ate: drop biscuits with gravy made from bacon grease, bacon, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, fruit salad with fresh mangoes and cucumbers, and corn pudding. You have to make almost everything from scratch here and it really makes you realize the incredible-taste-bud-exploding experience that store-bought/pre-made/ready-made/just-add-water products cheat you out of. I’m not convinced anymore that the convenience is worth the sacrifice. For dinner last night, I made Mexican Lasagna. Many of you have tried my attempts at this dish. But we put 2 spins on it here. Aurora made pineapple-mango salsa from scratch for the topping. There are no lasagna noodles to be found in Zambia (maybe Lusaka, but we are 8 hours away), so Kevin made homemade ones! It was pretty fantastic. I successfully made egg nog from scratch. In fact, I have made it three times now and am getting better every time! Makes me think of you Grandma. Wish I could share them with you. I'll make you some when I come home. Oh, and I made banana bread one afternoon and deviled eggs with avocado.

Ok, it’s raining now. I think there is dancing going on in the kitchen, so I’m gonna let yall go for now. Hope you all had a wonderfully blessed Christmas. I miss you all terribly. It has been 6 months since I left Lubbock and last saw my kindred spirits and the land of my birth. It has been 5 months since I left my family and loved ones…longest separation in my life. Something I learned from reading Bless Me, Ultima: it is better to take your experiences (whether trial or tribulation) and turn them into strengths, not weaknesses, for the future.

Oh, one more thing. The clouds here are unreal. Unreal to you at least. Unreal to me at first. It feels like my memories of the first few months of being here are painted with exotic and unbelievable experiences. Recently though, life is becoming more real and personal. I’ve had some very real experiences recently involving violence and death. At the same time, the rains are bringing forth such an explosion of life and love. I enjoy the rhythm of life here. And I like being a part of the whole. I will always be an outsider to this culture, but it is the daily intertwining of my life with the individual lives around me and their spirits, needs, desires, hopes, fears, mysteries, and connections that reaffirms the reality of my experience here. Some days I feel very ordinary and content; like I’ve figured this all out, like I’ve been living this life for a long time. And then, I look up and see these clouds, beautiful and spread across the sky, painted with colors my eyes have never before seen. I watch them as they melt and grow and change and move on, dancing with the sky, and it reminds me of my own dance of growth, change, and impermanence.

Good-bye 2009.

And the rain, rain, rain came down, down, down

The rains have finally come! That might have been the longest drought of my life. 6 months, I think. The rain is really exciting too. It sounds neat on the grass of my roof and I only have a few leaks, mostly right by my door. But it’s ok. Nothing sits there. Oh, except for this chicken I named Lanolin. If I get my photos posted, you can view Lanolin chillin’ in my doorway during a rain. She’s pretty cool.

I’m going to talk about food:
I made peanut butter the other day. It was fun and delicious! I’m thinking I will buy a mortar and pestle when I go back home and make my own peanut butter from now on. It is SO easy. Ok, maybe I’ll splurge every once in a while and buy some creamy Peter Pan…..or Jiffy……mmmmm…….
On a grosser note, I ate a horrible-looking bug with wings. It was really hard to put in my mouth (yes Heather, I know), but once I did it actually tasted incredibly good (yes Heather, again). It had a nice crunch to it. Check out my photos.
Children bring me mangoes almost everyday. Lots and lots of mangoes.
One of my younger brothers here killed a wild rabbit. They said he snuck up on it while it was sleeping and beat it with a stick. He is probably 9 years old. Then, we ate it. It tasted like wild African rabbit.

Now, I’m going to talk about witchcraft:
There was a hyena trying to eat a piglet the other night. Some say it was a witch creature. Either way, our dogs chased it away. Some powers that witch had.
There is a terrestrial snail here that leaves quite large, pretty, white shells everywhere. I told a few people that I like them and want to decorate my house with them after, of course, assuring them that it is a perfectly normal behavior in America (it is right?). So my Agogo (more on her in a bit) and my father have been bringing me shells when they come home from the fields. Every evening this past week, I have been helping my sister Ida study for her final exams. There is a young guy, Saidy (pronounced “Side-ee), from a cluster of houses next to our village that taught at a nearby school. He is better help than I am and laughs just like Tigger, so I let him hang out with us at my house. The other night, he and Ida and a few others were telling me some interesting things about these snail shells. Apparently, witches decorate the shells with classy effects like beads, needles and pubic hair. Then, they use them to fly to America in 2 seconds. No seriously, 2 seconds. But the catch is they have to be naked. No cargo allowed. Then, once in America, they must land at airports (I mean, where else are you going to land a snail shell covered in….yeah) where their friends are waiting with clothing. I wanna know how they contact their friends. Probably wirelessly, through their charred corncob transmitters covered in bull poop. Scott heard a similar story, except the witches there use reed mats and it takes them 20 minutes to get to America (guess witches in my area are more advanced with their intimate hair follicle usage).

Okay….enough of that. How bout granny stuff:
Grandmother in chiTumbuka is “agogo” and does mine ever. She is purty darn old, but spunky as all get out, I mean a real hoot n’ a half (man, I miss Texas, yall). I’ll try to get a better photo than the one where she fell asleep in my “kitchen.” She lives 2 houses down and loves to wander over and check on me several times a day. She kinda has a scowl on her face, especially when she is trying to understand my Tumbuka and scrunches up her nose. But good gracious her smile is a wonderful thing. It spreads across her scowl like raspberry jam on toast. It is so pleasant. I do things or say things sometimes just to get her to smile. It really makes my day. And makes me miss raspberry jam.

The rain has caused the green to ooze out of the streams and creep across the hills. There was this brown and dying lump of plant material right outside my house. It has now shot up 5 elephant ears!!! One fond memory of my American Granny, Ida’s old house was her huge elephant ear plants (that and the snapdragons). It was the first place in my memory that I encountered them. Now, across the years and the miles, I have been blessed with my own elephant ears. It’s the small things that connect us.

I hope all is sweet as peaches. I am enjoying being alive and sharing my beat on this beautiful, insane, insect-ridden earth.

Happy Halloween!

They don't celebrate halloween here. They don't even know what it is. But I hope you all have fun tonight and get lots of treats!

Well, it has been quite a month indeed. I have 2 hippos that live in a lake that is only a ten minute bicycle ride from my hut! They will migrate to the lake that is a ten minute walk from me in a few months. They are neat to watch. I haven't seen an entire hippo body yet. They stay in the water, only surfacing to breathe and wiggle their ears!

We had a relaxing weekend last weekend celebrating Cherie's birthday! It was so good to see everyone and talk and hang out and be American...well, as American as you can be in the middle of a fetus.

Please, take this moment to guide your eyes to the right of these words and observe the series of letters and numbers that make up my mailing address!!! I am so happy to finally get this posted. My parents have successfully sent a package so it does work! Takes about a month. And this will be my address from now until the end of my service.

I am now able to kill, defeather, gut, butcher and cook an entire chicken all by myself! I am constantly around chickens. Their behaviors range from funny and endearing to annoying and sometimes alarming. I really enjoy them and think I want to live in a place where I can have them when I get back to America. We have guineas here too and they remind me of the ranch, Mom. We also have 3 ducks. There were 4, but I ate one.

My mama here is having an oven built between our houses! She bakes bread a lot and sells it. She gives me buns-i almost everyday. I eat a lot here. Never would have believed I would gain weight in Africa, but I am. The women love to come up to me and tell me "Anya Zulu mwawona tutuba chomene lino!" Which translates to "Anya Zulu you look very fat today!" Being told you are fat is a compliment here. My emotions are torn on that one. Oh yeah, "tutuba" means fat. I think that word is hilarious. I tried to explain what a tuba is, but I don't think they understood. I feel very alone sometimes when it comes to humor. Their sense of humor is so different. They find things funny that I just don't get at all. And then they don't get my humor at all either and I find myself talking to myself, my walls, water bottle, food, mosquito net....anything that I happen to be looking at at the moment. Oh, I don't think I talk out loud that much...but I do just start laughing at things I think of when no one is around.

I'm finding more time to daydream and its so wonderful! I've also been shelling groundnuts and maize with the women. I've been going to lots of meetings. I played netball with some women last night and it was a lot of fun! Netball is like a combination of basketball and ultimate frisbee with a soccerball.

Day-to-day activities include waking up between 6 and 7am. Everyone else gets up between 4 and 5. Then I sweep my hut out...it's always so dusty. Then I eat cereal or oatmeal. My mama brings me tea and rolls. Then I either go to a meeting or read or crochet or hang out with people in my village. Eat lunch and do one of the above activities again. My sister brings supper to my hut if I don't cook. We eat together and then talk. I have recently been teaching her and others how to play cards. They love it, but it gets very exhausting because they want to play ALL the time. Feel free to send playing cards!

Ok gotta go. I'll try to make it back here in a week or so with more info. LOVE!