First

It’s been a week of firsts. I had my first flat on the new bike. I made my first batch of village fudge. (Mixed reviews: Though it never solidified, perhaps because the sugar never dissolved, it was still sweet and chocolately, and that counts for a lot when you’re experiencing a cookie shortage.)
Then, I found my first tarantula in the house.
It was hiding out in a stack of books on the floor, looking way more like an animal than a bug.
I captured it in a cut-off two-liter bottle so Trevor could witness it when he got home. He was duly impressed.
Later, the carpenter tossed it over the fence, not quite far enough from the house in my opinion, but it’s not back. Yet.
Our host dad says he will apply some type of traditional medicine to keep the bugs out while we’re in Chipata this weekend. All the Americans we’ve asked say that while tarantulas bite, they aren’t poisonous. The Zambians, however, insist that the bite can kill you.