We had exactly the weekend I needed: slow and quiet. I think on Saturday, the farthest Trevor went from home was the compost pile. Sunday, we spent the afternoon hanging out with friends, drinking tea, and playing ping pong.
We've had no more than an hour or two of water a day for more than a week now, and the power was out all day Sunday. We had just finished dining on cold food by candlelight when the lights flicked back on, just in time for us to watch the third hour of The Aviator, which I bought at the grocery store in Missouri for 99 cents.
Tanned, rested, and ready: Bring on the new week!
Monday, August 10, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Convenience
Halfway through mixing up a batch of bran muffins this morning, I realized I used the last egg yesterday. I walked next door to see if Marco had any. He didn't. So I grabbed my wallet and headed out the gate and a few doors down to Zambia's version of the convenience store, a little tuck shop in somebody's yard, built from sticks and plastic and stocking sugar, gum, matches, Jiggies (Zam-style cheese puffs), and other necessities. He had eggs; now we have muffins.
On my way back to the house, the bicycling vegetable man was headed up the street singing, "Lepu! Impwa!" I could have done all my shopping for the day within 10 meters of our gate, wearing my pajamas.
On my way back to the house, the bicycling vegetable man was headed up the street singing, "Lepu! Impwa!" I could have done all my shopping for the day within 10 meters of our gate, wearing my pajamas.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Garden report, new house
Last week the lettuce leaves were so tiny and fragile I felt guilty plucking them for a salad. But this week the plants are at the edge of producing so much we have to eat salads at every meal just to keep up. Luckily, last night we had a little help.
I didn't have any random vegetables to throw on top, so while rooting around the pantry for something to decorate the salads, I found this Japanese wasabi seaweed + sesame seed stuff meant for rice that I inherited when somebody COSed (thanks, Diana!). It added the perfect zing to the greens.
I'm a little worried about the garden's Chinese cabbage. The neighbors grow it, too, and it's getting to the point where there may not be enough people in Zambia to eat it all.
I didn't have any random vegetables to throw on top, so while rooting around the pantry for something to decorate the salads, I found this Japanese wasabi seaweed + sesame seed stuff meant for rice that I inherited when somebody COSed (thanks, Diana!). It added the perfect zing to the greens.
I'm a little worried about the garden's Chinese cabbage. The neighbors grow it, too, and it's getting to the point where there may not be enough people in Zambia to eat it all.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Guarding
This morning we invited Baldwin, the 90-pound night guard from the Peace Corps house, over to our house for coffee. When Trevor offered him a bowl of granola, I realized he had never seen cereal before, so I coached him on putting on some milk and eating it with a spoon.
Baldwin asked me to do a couple of things for the guards, one of which was to return his name to the house softies log. At some point, somebody left him off the sheet where people record how many Cokes they've taken from the house fridge, and he took this to mean he wasn't allowed to have them anymore. It kind of breaks my heart that it took months for him to work up the nerve to tell mention this.
We sent him home with a little baggie of Valentine's candy for his kids. He predicted it would make them jump up and down with happiness. That is something I would like to see.
Baldwin asked me to do a couple of things for the guards, one of which was to return his name to the house softies log. At some point, somebody left him off the sheet where people record how many Cokes they've taken from the house fridge, and he took this to mean he wasn't allowed to have them anymore. It kind of breaks my heart that it took months for him to work up the nerve to tell mention this.
We sent him home with a little baggie of Valentine's candy for his kids. He predicted it would make them jump up and down with happiness. That is something I would like to see.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Update
The bank was much quicker than I expected-- I didn't even have a chance to get out my magazine. This gave me the rest of the morning to eat cupcakes and hang out with the volunteers currently at the house.
After lunch, I cruised to the shops in our Land Cruiser, a vehicle approximately the size of a suburb, and terrorized bicyclists (not on purpose!) while navigating the narrow streets in search of bulk goods. Chipata's version of Sam's Club is a place called Kavalamungu. It feels like a Wild-West store to me. Everything is behind counters and stacked up to the ceiling. You tell the Indian guy what you want and he dispatches a Zambian dude to fetch it for you.
One of my purchases was 25 kgs of flour. Anybody who read Laura Ingalls Wilder books as a kid remembers Laura's mom sewing dresses out of the sacks. Sadly, our bulk goods come in crappy woven plastic bags that unravel the second you cut them.
After lunch, I cruised to the shops in our Land Cruiser, a vehicle approximately the size of a suburb, and terrorized bicyclists (not on purpose!) while navigating the narrow streets in search of bulk goods. Chipata's version of Sam's Club is a place called Kavalamungu. It feels like a Wild-West store to me. Everything is behind counters and stacked up to the ceiling. You tell the Indian guy what you want and he dispatches a Zambian dude to fetch it for you.
One of my purchases was 25 kgs of flour. Anybody who read Laura Ingalls Wilder books as a kid remembers Laura's mom sewing dresses out of the sacks. Sadly, our bulk goods come in crappy woven plastic bags that unravel the second you cut them.
Deep breathing
A sense of yogic calm is so helpful in Zambia.
Right now I'm drinking my second cup of coffee and mentally preparing myself to visit the bank to find out if the paperwork has been processed in Lusaka so I can access the funds PC advances to us in the provinces so we can do things like pay the water bill. I'll stuff a few magazines in my purse and probably wish for prescription anti-anxiety meds by the time the visit is over.
Right now I'm drinking my second cup of coffee and mentally preparing myself to visit the bank to find out if the paperwork has been processed in Lusaka so I can access the funds PC advances to us in the provinces so we can do things like pay the water bill. I'll stuff a few magazines in my purse and probably wish for prescription anti-anxiety meds by the time the visit is over.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Better
In the village, Trevor struggled to get people to commit to any project. Here in town, he's juggling so many things that he has to constantly remind himself not to create more. Recently he met a volunteer with another organization who's working with the planning office and wants help teaching GIS mapping, so he has the chance to do work that's actually in his field of expertise.
We've also made friends here, besides other PCVs. Trevor has a squash date Wednesday. My Saturday yoga classes are jamming, and we've had several coffee and lunch dates.
We've gone from enduring to living. What a difference.
We've also made friends here, besides other PCVs. Trevor has a squash date Wednesday. My Saturday yoga classes are jamming, and we've had several coffee and lunch dates.
We've gone from enduring to living. What a difference.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Time, time, time
Time itself is kinda meaningless in Zambia, but timing still matters. Folks eat the traditional maize meal paste, shima, with globs of cooked vegetables or meat. It takes us white people some practice before we manage to scoop up the last of the okra with the last handful of shima.
One goal of my anti-hoarding campaign is to subvert my usual tendency to save my special things for some mythical special occasion that often doesn't arrive before said special things dry up and rot. Instead, I want to force myself to use them up and enjoy them. I want us to skate out of Zambia on a wave of candy wrappers and the nubs of used-up colored pencils. I want to sip the last packet of Kool-Aid the day we fly out.
The friend who bequeathed me the yarn tried to time the end of her spices. By last weekend, she had run out of Mexican seasoning and salt. She bought one pin's worth (20 cents) of cooking oil in a plastic bag because she didn't need a whole bottle. Her final few days in the village were flavored with cinnamon and Wochestershire sauce. When she was at our house last weekend, gazing longingly into our pantry, I was tempted to offer her little baggies of garlic salt or cumin, but I know that part of the satisfaction is timing it exactly right.
One goal of my anti-hoarding campaign is to subvert my usual tendency to save my special things for some mythical special occasion that often doesn't arrive before said special things dry up and rot. Instead, I want to force myself to use them up and enjoy them. I want us to skate out of Zambia on a wave of candy wrappers and the nubs of used-up colored pencils. I want to sip the last packet of Kool-Aid the day we fly out.
The friend who bequeathed me the yarn tried to time the end of her spices. By last weekend, she had run out of Mexican seasoning and salt. She bought one pin's worth (20 cents) of cooking oil in a plastic bag because she didn't need a whole bottle. Her final few days in the village were flavored with cinnamon and Wochestershire sauce. When she was at our house last weekend, gazing longingly into our pantry, I was tempted to offer her little baggies of garlic salt or cumin, but I know that part of the satisfaction is timing it exactly right.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Hoarding relapse
Peace Corps Volunteers pass through the country in a cycle that feels excruciatingly long when you're suffering through Pre-Service Training but begins to accelerate around the midway
point.
While it is depressing to constantly say goodbye to friends, one advantage for us dumpster-diving types is that folks jettison vast quantities of perfectly good stuff. Since my quirks and hobbies are common knowledge around the greater Chipata area, I've become the magnet for knitting- and yoga-related castoffs. Today when I pulled my friend Maggie from her site, I inherited rainbow-colored handspun yarn and yoga flashcards.
I'm trying to reform my hoarding ways, but how does one say no to a perfectly good set of circular needles?
point.
While it is depressing to constantly say goodbye to friends, one advantage for us dumpster-diving types is that folks jettison vast quantities of perfectly good stuff. Since my quirks and hobbies are common knowledge around the greater Chipata area, I've become the magnet for knitting- and yoga-related castoffs. Today when I pulled my friend Maggie from her site, I inherited rainbow-colored handspun yarn and yoga flashcards.
I'm trying to reform my hoarding ways, but how does one say no to a perfectly good set of circular needles?
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Laundry update
When I was putting away my Esther-washed laundry, I noticed three things:
1. She ironed everything, including my socks. Just like my grandma used to do! She ironed my underwear, too, but Esther can't because in Zambia you have to wash your own underwear and pretend like it doesn't exist. (Don't ask me. I don't understand it either.) (On vacation my friend & I came upon a girl rinsing her undies in a stream, and I secretly took her picture! I still feel a little guilty about it. But it's not like I'm going to post it on my dang blog or anything!)
2. It all smelled really nice.
3. And it was all really clean. Those ironed socks? I had gotten used to them being orange, the color of the dirt that worms its way into my shoes whenever I go jogging. I thought it was like Alabama dirt that just doesn't come out, but it turns out that it does if you have the magic touch, like Esther!
She says it's because her hands are strong. Could be juju. Who's to say?
She's also pretty stoked that I'm writing about her here, and says you can call her and she'll do your laundry, too.
1. She ironed everything, including my socks. Just like my grandma used to do! She ironed my underwear, too, but Esther can't because in Zambia you have to wash your own underwear and pretend like it doesn't exist. (Don't ask me. I don't understand it either.) (On vacation my friend & I came upon a girl rinsing her undies in a stream, and I secretly took her picture! I still feel a little guilty about it. But it's not like I'm going to post it on my dang blog or anything!)
2. It all smelled really nice.
3. And it was all really clean. Those ironed socks? I had gotten used to them being orange, the color of the dirt that worms its way into my shoes whenever I go jogging. I thought it was like Alabama dirt that just doesn't come out, but it turns out that it does if you have the magic touch, like Esther!
She says it's because her hands are strong. Could be juju. Who's to say?
She's also pretty stoked that I'm writing about her here, and says you can call her and she'll do your laundry, too.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Purge
Now that I'm officially in charge of the Peace Corps house, I'm throwing away junk like a maniac. Ripped t-shirts, holey jeans, scratched CDs, torn-up books, rotten food: look out, trash pit!
But I am also taking advantage of the one major perk of PCVL-ship, which is that the housekeeper does my laundry for free. While Trevor toiled away at home on his own filthy threads, I hauled mine over to Esther on the back of my bike. By lunchtime my shirts were flapping in the breeze.
The guilt I feel over not doing my own dirty work is SO outweighed by the thrill of not melting my skin with laundry soap and having clothes that actually get clean.
But I am also taking advantage of the one major perk of PCVL-ship, which is that the housekeeper does my laundry for free. While Trevor toiled away at home on his own filthy threads, I hauled mine over to Esther on the back of my bike. By lunchtime my shirts were flapping in the breeze.
The guilt I feel over not doing my own dirty work is SO outweighed by the thrill of not melting my skin with laundry soap and having clothes that actually get clean.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Stockpile
The convergence of [treats that arrived in this week's mail] + [Trevor's family wanting to buy plane tickets to meet us when we finish Peace Corps next year] = has me thinking about the snacks I've got stockpiled in the pantry. This leads me to conclude that I have finally amassed enough koolaid to last until May [eta: maybe April!], when we're outta here. Ditto taco seasoning and other spicy things.
I struggle with the tendency to hoard things, even here where I know my stay is temporary and I will have to carry home my collections in a suitcase. Recently I read an article in Oprah magazine (of course) that advised me to unburden myself from excess junk, knowing that everything I need is readily available. Clearly this writer has never lived in Chipata, where we have experienced shortages of everything from electricity to tomato paste.
It's hard to relax the hoarding instinct when you regularly face empty shelves at the grocery store and have wrung the last drops from your emergency water cans. If I can master the urge here, it should be a breeze when we return to the Land of Plenty.
So-- deep breath-- don't send any more koolaid! I have enough.
I struggle with the tendency to hoard things, even here where I know my stay is temporary and I will have to carry home my collections in a suitcase. Recently I read an article in Oprah magazine (of course) that advised me to unburden myself from excess junk, knowing that everything I need is readily available. Clearly this writer has never lived in Chipata, where we have experienced shortages of everything from electricity to tomato paste.
It's hard to relax the hoarding instinct when you regularly face empty shelves at the grocery store and have wrung the last drops from your emergency water cans. If I can master the urge here, it should be a breeze when we return to the Land of Plenty.
So-- deep breath-- don't send any more koolaid! I have enough.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Oxymoron of the week
After dropping off the newbies for their first site visit, we met up with a volunteer at a shop near her house. Alongside the Spiderman and kiddie punk rock satchels for sale was a pink and purple backpack featuring Barbie... wearing a burqua. I recognized her by her mascara.
It took all my willpower not to buy it, but then I wandered across the road for a cold diet Coke and got assaulted by the maniac orange-selling ladies again and the feeling passed. I did manage to score a watermelon this time around, and it rolled out of the truck and cracked open on the concrete just as we arrived back at the office. (Note to the singer/songwriters out there: Similar to "rain on your wedding day," I would consider this rotten luck, not irony. Anyway, we still ate the watermelon.)
It took all my willpower not to buy it, but then I wandered across the road for a cold diet Coke and got assaulted by the maniac orange-selling ladies again and the feeling passed. I did manage to score a watermelon this time around, and it rolled out of the truck and cracked open on the concrete just as we arrived back at the office. (Note to the singer/songwriters out there: Similar to "rain on your wedding day," I would consider this rotten luck, not irony. Anyway, we still ate the watermelon.)
Sunday, July 26, 2009
The Little Things
In true Peace Corps fashion, the newbies spent much of their first few days in Zambia lugging their giant suitcases, backpacks and duffel bags around. I would love to peek in their bags and see what they considered essential for survival in Africa.
Of course, this is different for everybody and every situation. On this latest trip to Lusaka, my quality of life was enhanced greatly by the real coffee I brewed in my travel mug/ French press, pulled from the Chipata house free box. When the newbies struggled to make peanut butter sandwiches during a pit shop traveling upcountry, they were impressed when I pulled a camping spoon/fork out of my bag. And starting out on the trip, I stuffed a half dozen plastic bags in the roll bars of the Cruiser.
Of course, this is different for everybody and every situation. On this latest trip to Lusaka, my quality of life was enhanced greatly by the real coffee I brewed in my travel mug/ French press, pulled from the Chipata house free box. When the newbies struggled to make peanut butter sandwiches during a pit shop traveling upcountry, they were impressed when I pulled a camping spoon/fork out of my bag. And starting out on the trip, I stuffed a half dozen plastic bags in the roll bars of the Cruiser.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Torch passing
The outgoing PCVL got on a plane this afternoon, so I'm flying solo now. So far, so good-- all the PCVLs took the new trainees shopping today for cell phones and food for this week's site visits. We didn't lose anybody or get robbed.
Tomorrow morning we get in the truck for a long and windy trip back upcountry. I packed snacks, music, and about a dozen plastic bags, an entire roll of TP, and hand wipes. Even though I get to ride in the front seat now that I'm The Big Bwana, I'm taking no chances with the Cruiser Curse.
Tomorrow morning we get in the truck for a long and windy trip back upcountry. I packed snacks, music, and about a dozen plastic bags, an entire roll of TP, and hand wipes. Even though I get to ride in the front seat now that I'm The Big Bwana, I'm taking no chances with the Cruiser Curse.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Greasy and delicious
Since last time we were in Lusaka, I've been debating with myself about Crisco. I've never seen it for sale anywhere in Zambia except at the grocery store by the Peace Corps office, but I didn't buy it last time we were in town because 1. it cost 65,000 kwacha, which is a shocking $13 (and we make in the low triple digits, so this is saying something), and 2. I knew Trevor would harass me mercilessly if I did because let's face it, there is something pretty creepy and disgusting about Crisco.
But honestly, I prefer Crisco cookies to butter ones (I know, I know, I know) and the last package I got from my mom contained two bags of real chocolate chips (something else you can't buy here; usually people just chop up candy bars). So I finally decided to go for it, and when I got to Melissa's this afternoon I discovered that Crisco is temporarily marked down to 40,000!!! I even found a tub at the back of the shelf that doesn't expire until December (the ones in front expire the day after tomorrow).
It's as if the universe is saying, sorry about the puke thing, why don't you go home and make yourself some nice cookies. Thanks, universe. I will!
But honestly, I prefer Crisco cookies to butter ones (I know, I know, I know) and the last package I got from my mom contained two bags of real chocolate chips (something else you can't buy here; usually people just chop up candy bars). So I finally decided to go for it, and when I got to Melissa's this afternoon I discovered that Crisco is temporarily marked down to 40,000!!! I even found a tub at the back of the shelf that doesn't expire until December (the ones in front expire the day after tomorrow).
It's as if the universe is saying, sorry about the puke thing, why don't you go home and make yourself some nice cookies. Thanks, universe. I will!
Transport juju
Yesterday's transport was so ridiculous it was actually funny. Well, it was funny later, after I had taken a shower.
Usually riding in a Peace Corps cruiser is the best possible way to get to Lusaka: it's (relatively) fast, it's free (thanks, taxpayers!), the driver is never drunk, and you may be crammed in with other people but at least you know them and they usually don't stink. But yesterday the combination of looking sideways (the back seats face the middle), being post-going-away-party hungover (some of us), and inhaling a disturbing unwashed smell caused the middle passenger to lose his breakfast all over the rest of us. At least we were almost to town, so we mopped up with TP, cranked open the windows, and tried not to think about it.
Readers paying close attention may sense a theme developing here. Here's hoping it does not continue to develop.
We were delivering one of the passengers to Lusaka to "ring out" and go home. As a parting gift, she gave me her travel charm, a banged-up toy car. She says she always gets a good hitch when she makes it offerings of her favorite candy. Clearly she neglected it yesterday.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Newbies, oldbies
Lately there's been a little too much traveling without Trevor, but that changes tomorrow when I head down to Lusaka to meet up with him and to await the arrival of the next group of PC trainees!
Preparing for the first site visits of the newbies has got me thinking a lot about how excited and freaked out we were back in the winter of 2008 when we were cramming a ridiculous amount of crap into gigantic suitcases, saying goodbye to our neighborhood and families and pets, and sipping those final margaritas. Last night I picked up an old journal to make a "to do" list and opened to my own first site visit, when Zambia was blowing my mind every minute. I'm thankful that nothing here seems as overwhelming or alien as it did those first few weeks.
Even though I was coming home to a Trevor-less house tonight, I felt a surge of contentment upon opening the door to our cozy little nest. OK, it doesn't hurt that I left a burgeoning going-away party and returned to our friendly Italian neighbor and a quiet house full of knitting projects and Project Runway. Even better was when I went out back with my headlamp to pluck a handful of arugula for dinner. Life is good.
Preparing for the first site visits of the newbies has got me thinking a lot about how excited and freaked out we were back in the winter of 2008 when we were cramming a ridiculous amount of crap into gigantic suitcases, saying goodbye to our neighborhood and families and pets, and sipping those final margaritas. Last night I picked up an old journal to make a "to do" list and opened to my own first site visit, when Zambia was blowing my mind every minute. I'm thankful that nothing here seems as overwhelming or alien as it did those first few weeks.
Even though I was coming home to a Trevor-less house tonight, I felt a surge of contentment upon opening the door to our cozy little nest. OK, it doesn't hurt that I left a burgeoning going-away party and returned to our friendly Italian neighbor and a quiet house full of knitting projects and Project Runway. Even better was when I went out back with my headlamp to pluck a handful of arugula for dinner. Life is good.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Hitching, again
For his trip to Lusaka for a work conference this week, Trevor found the best way yet to hitch: He arranged a ride in advance with a friend, the guy who runs Chipata's ice cream/pizza parlor. Mosali showed up in his shiny new car exactly when he said he would, toting two giant tubs of samoosas and cold Red Bulls. One excellent thing about Muslim drivers is that they are unlikely to be drunk.
They stopped a few times (prayers, family visit) but dropped Trevor off at the door of his swanky hotel in excellent time. He waltzed right in to the dinner buffet and (I'm guessing) spent the rest of the evening surfing the satellite TV.
They stopped a few times (prayers, family visit) but dropped Trevor off at the door of his swanky hotel in excellent time. He waltzed right in to the dinner buffet and (I'm guessing) spent the rest of the evening surfing the satellite TV.
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