These and other questions! I know you are wondering Claire what is Zambia like! Claire have you done surgery yet! Claire have you been bitten by the weird poisonous snakes that sound like chickens? No–but they have put me off of hiking a little bit you think you are going to see a fluffy chicken and boom a snake kills you.
While in the air on my way to Kenya–my first layover the stewardess asked if I wanted anything to drink. “Water please!” I said.
“Dry or sweet?”
I’d never had sweet water before it sounded intriguing and nothing seems right about ordering dry water. “Sweet please!” You’ve probably already caught on to my mistake. Well I did get a glass of sweet red wine and not sweet water.
Nairobi is a very large city. I can’t tell you anything else about it because I was only in the airport for about 3 hours. Getting through customs was an interesting process. First off they wouldn’t print my second boarding ticket in Tanzania so I had to find a place where they could print it as did everyone else. Secondly, they made us go through security but the line was kind of a shoving mosh pit. If you showed one minute of fear then you would end up further back in the line. I met a couple from Seattle that had adopted an Australian man. I think the Australian man was a little frazzled by how much they were defending him but apparently they’d been on safari together for a month. Weirdly enough the people sort of behind us in the sort of line were also from Seattle. You think you go halfway around the world to escape Washingtonians and they find you. (Nah I love them not to worry.) It was refreshing though to run into people from Washington and not Ohio.
After we got through the weird moshpit that was security and collected your stuff if you were lucky. There were so many people trying to get stuff on the conveyor belt that I watched some peoples stuff fall off and then you had to go try again. We headed to a desk that told us we would get our tickets there. After they told us no in fact you cannot and I watched an Australian cowboy lose his mind we went down a long tunnel and into the main airport. I stood in line at the next help desk and watched Australia man (the one who was adopted by the Seattlites) yell at the help desk people for missing his flight because he couldn’t get his ticket. I guess the Seattle people didn’t need to stick up for him. The help desk people were not impressed.
I asked a nearby worker if I needed to get my tickets here or if I could get them at the gate. He confidently told me the gate so I meandered off, bought a coffee, and a chicken pie which I’m not sure what was in it but it was to die for! Then when it was time to get my ticket well before my flight the desk people said “oh no you must go back to the help desk.” Luckily the frazzled people from my flight earlier had cleared off leaving frazzled people from a flight which had been canceled.
I did get my ticket and I didn’t even miss my flight. In fact I had so much time that I met a Nigerian priest named Fr. Michael. He introduced himself to me because he wanted to know about my Christmas tree tattoo. When I asked him what kind of priest he was and he said Catholic I said “me too!”
He was like, “Oh I know that from your crucifix necklace.” So was the tattoo question just a ploy to get to talk to a catholic–who knows. He was very nice though finishing a masters for his diocese. All of his family is in Canada so he was getting ready to go visit them although he definitely doesn’t like the cold. That seems to be a common trend among Africans.
Did I do cool things spending all night in the Lusaka airport staring out the window? No I read an entire book a Romance about an impulsive girl who makes dumb decisions, played wingspan, wrote this blog believe it or not, and did my best not to fall asleep. I’m not sure what the airport workers knew what to do with me. “You are just sitting here for the next ten hours?”
“Yep pretty much!”
I drifted off just as the sun was coming up. It was a really beautiful sunrise and there was a wind that came up and kept opening the automatic doors. I think probably ten minutes after I dozed off I was woken up. “Are you okay?”
“Umm yeah,” (I know I look homeless but I’m not promise)
It was an older woman who was just resting on the bench next to me while her son checked in. She was very nice. She’d lived in Tanzania for most of her life until her husband had died at which time she moved to Lusaka to be with her son. She just exuded peace and I can think of few people I’d rather be woken up by even if it is unsettling to get woken up when you weren’t even expecting you’d fallen asleep.
I got up from my stupor and meandered to the desk where I was informed I was in the wrong airport for the flight. Interesting. So where was the right airport? “That way,” the lady said and pointed. I proceeded to walk to the end of the terminal before realizing I’d missed the exit. It was a nice morning walk and only probably like ¼ of a mile which isn’t to bad. They wouldn’t let me check in for my flight so I went to sit and look out of this airports window. The coffee man must sense week souls because he came up to me and went, “excuse me madam, but can I offer you a coffee and a pastry.” Easiest sale on his part ever!
When they finally let me through security I understood why they’d waited. There was approximately one gate. When it came time to board they boarded several flights at once and you just had to follow the right lady to the right very small airplane. I don’t have a fear of flying so this was all good in my books but my plane I think seated 20.
The wings being so small is honestly what struck me the most, that and our phones weren’t aloud to be on at all during take off or landing and don’t even think about having headphones in. I watched the couple next to me get away with it by pretending to be asleep. I should have done that! I was basically a walking zombie by then. The snacks on this tiny plane were excellent though–we got mango juice and popcorn!
When we touched down in Mfuwe I had the sudden realization that I’d miscalculated my flight time by an hour. That means instead of being picked up like everyone else basically off of the tarmac because the airport was a single room building (I’m not even joking) I once again got left. Ah well I’m getting used to standing forlorn at airports while those around me get to go on Safari.
I must have looked unwell because I certainly felt it because a guy came to my rescue. Which I’m still a little suspicious of him and I won’t lie I haven’t been returning my calls but he bought me water and sat me in the shade and helped me get my taxi when it showed up. Icouldn’t get a straight answer out of what he did because maybe he was studying, maybe he was working for the government, I think he was a nutritionist, and he was working on some spiritual-nature something or another. He was very calming even though he kept laughing at the fact that I stared at the airport door like a lost puppy.
Now when my taxi driver did come this guy waved him down and got me loaded. I am truly sorry if your phone calls are harmless my guy (which yes I gave him my number because I was so grateful he stopped me from throwing up) but I just don’t trust men anymore unless I’ve known them for 3-5 business years.
Ishmael should have been a formula one racer. He’s been driving as a job for 19 years and he took the pothole and people littered road like a slalom course. Now I was a little bit shocked because I landed in this tiny airport with no town and then proceeded to drive two hours through the African Savannah which had just a couple villages. My brain definitely went “What are you doing?” But I was so tired I didn’t really care if I died. Despite his erratic speed, wheel jerking, and desire to go from 20-100 km as fast as possible I totally fell asleep on this drive which shows you how exhausted I was. (What can I say I just don’t do allnighters like I used to–okay I could never do them)
Chipata after the savannah is like coming into another world. It’s like you are in the middle of nowhere and then out of the blue you are in a city of 100,000 people. I’ve immediately noticed that there are more private vehicles, at least in town, and the clothing is more modern than in Tanzania. More people have smartphones and seem a little less interested in each other’s lives. Ishamael and I waited and waited and I was beginning to think that they had forgotten me when Dr. Peduche’s husband, Gemini showed up. He paid Ishmael which means I now owe him a life debt of 1200 Zwacha, then we ran some errands. For me we went to the ATM and the grocery store (where he told me very specifically to buy all my produce.) He just kind of followed me around the grocery store and suggested good brands to me. “I like this one it has a better flavor, or this rice sucks.” (I don’t think he realizes how special my rice turns out half the time anyways)
After groceries we picked up Dr. Peduche and Beth their daughter whom I adore. She is super sweet and fun. She just finished University in Australia–what’s interesting in when she talks to me she has an Australian accent but when she talks to others she has a Zambian accent. She is a Zambian Phillipino :) She got her degree in counseling and is working on applying to more school. Her hobbies include being terrified of snakes which…I am now too, reading, cooking, and just being a cheerful person.
With the Peduche’s we went to the open market–where I could have bought my produce for a fraction of the cost and it would have been better quality. Ah well can’t trust Gemini when he’s talking about groceries apparently.
We went to dinner at an Indian family’s house. I think several generations lived there and it was something special to all pray together as SDA, Muslims, and Catholics. The food can I tell you was to die for! I happily ate several plates although I didn’t love the potato salad–I just don’t think it’s my thing. As dinner and time went on more people kept showing up and I really couldn’t keep them straight at all. Something about sleep deprivation does that to you.
Beth kept me company though and I didn’t have to think to much because sometimes its easier to talk to someone your own age in your own language. She’s lived in Zambia, Kenya, Australia, and although she is visiting the Phillipines she has no desire to stay there because it is to hot. I laughed at this because for me Zambia is too hot. When I got off the airplane at Mfuwe I thought I was going to keel over dead it was so hot.
It is colder in Chipata. I felt a little bad about looking so tired they ended their evening early because people were still hanging out–although it was just the Ang’s and the Peduche’s at that point the other family had all gone inside or out for the final prayer in the evening. (They had some of the cutest kids!) Dr. Ang has been here for 30 years with his wife (he is 80 and wicked smart pretty sure he’s going to live forever) and Dr. Peduche has been here for 18. It was interesting because they were talking about retiring and going home to the Phillipines but I’m not sure if I spent 30 years in one place if I would even want to move back home.
It was another hour up a dirt road to Mwami. This is again when my brain went–what am I doing? I fell asleep but woke up a few times when we went through government checkpoints–because there are several on the road up to Mwami because past Mwami is the border and smuggling is discouraged in Zambia. (It is better than when I was in Tanzania and felt like every time I went by the cops in the bus and they didn’t notice me I dodged a bullet–they are a little into bribery)
Sleep time at last. I don’t even honestly remember if I put on my pajamas or just collapsed on the bed. I am not made of super strong stuff apparently.
Friday they didn’t have me come into the clinic so I slept in. I actually had to force myself to do this because my body–I hate it–is used to getting up at 7 AM now. (This doesn’t mean anything Mom I’m sure I will revert soon)
I through force of will stayed in bed till 11 A.M. and then wandered out into the house. I met the two house keepers Nana and Ester first. They were cooking lunch for some of the guys I live with. Just as I was finishing my coffee–which they had made for me and then taken my groceries and started cooking with I met the first of the people who live in the house. Patrice is from Southern California is in her mid fiftees and is there teaching nursing. She has kind of adopted me which I really appreciate it and she is very friendly. She likes to complain about the load shedding system–which is for about 8 hours of every day we lose power at a random start time. (Like tonight as I’m writing it it was 3-11 P.M today which is a lovely time to not have power.) She was actually born in Mwami as her parents were missionaries here.
She has been here since february with her husband Rick who walked in the door shortly after her. He is as he likes to say, “A heathen Lutheran,” and is an artist. He is very into ribbing people and I think he was glad to have someone younger there to joke around with. The other guys are Emmanuel, (From India), Ishmael (From Mexico), and Asbel (From Panama.) Emmanuel is very cute but engaged and also SDA and also way to serious for me (sigh) good thing I’m married. Ishmael and Asbel don’t speak much English so we communicate in my bad Spanish and their bad English and really don’t have much of a connection unless we are laughing because we are trying to eat breakfast too fast–late for prayer and all that.
I straightened up my things, realized I had very little clean clothes and decided that instead I should download books on my phone and do laundry at an unknown day in the future. Patrice took me for a tour and I got to see all of Mwami. Mwami isn’t actually a town–it’s just the hospital and nursing school. There are three villages it that surround it that you can get to by walking down dirt paths. Patrice has made me weirdly scared of going down these paths so I might not wander to the villages–there are also a ton of teenage pregnancies so maybe it’s for the best.
The hospital I will get into more later as we did a speed run tour of it and I have since spent quiet a bit of time there–weirdly enough. The nursing school there has only a couple classrooms, even fewer chairs–because there are a shortage of those, and 600 nursing students. They were all huddled around studying on Friday afternoon and yes they look just as dead inside as Carroll College nursing students do.
Further beyond the nursing school there is a compound for pregnant ladies near their due date. They are kept near the hospital so they can make it when they go into labor and in case anthing goes wrong. They are really cute to watch. A bunch of pregnant women braiding eachothers hair, cooking group meals, and just hanging out together. It’s also a smart system considering how far some of the women travel. (Most of them are younger than me which makes me feel like maybe I should get a move on creating Claire JR. (JK))
There is also a primary school and the SDA church and founding fathers grave. I get the sense that it’s kind of a holy spot for them and I really love the SDAs but getting teary eyed over fathers who are only 100 years old seems like a bit of a let down after being in Rome. Still they have done a lot of good work. I really appreciate how much teaching they do. We walked down to the market where you can buy the bear necessities that you need-toothpaste, avocados, what else do you really need?
Back at the house we sat on the porch and enjoyed the sun until the power came on and with it the Wi-fi. Like that both of us ran inside to get on our devices. I desperately wanted to download a book and sometimes the power goes out after coming back on so you have to take your chances when you can. Did I mention that there are so many hens with their chickens and roosters running around spastically here? I love it.
I went outside and sat with my back against the tree to enjoy the chickens, other birds, and call my parents. While we were talking two neighborhood boys kept walking back and forth and everytime they had to greet me. I love that about the places I’ve been–greeting and acknowledging other people is very important. My conversation with my parents came to a quick end when I realize I’d sat on an ant trail and no I hadn’t been having back cramps I had ants all up my back and in my pants. Their bite wasn’t that bad and most of them crawled out pretty quick but it did make me more hesitant to sit against any more trees.
I was getting ready to make dinner when Patrice offered me some of theirs–so I got to sit down and have very American Spaghetti, broccoli, and bread. It was quiet enjoyable and I really enjoyed the gesture. I did the dishes and they asked me about my love life–because apparently everyone is interested in that. I told them a few stories of my failures and right or wrong they are very defensive of me now. They both were married before to “Cheating bastards,” as they said. It sounds like on Patrice’s side the guy wasn’t engaged at all. It was cute to get to hear about online dating from them and how much they love eachother. As Rick said, “I’ve had more good days during the year with Patrice in the last ten years, then I did in any of the 16 I was with my wife.”
That night having been in book withdrawals I went to my room to go to sleep and read a 200 page novel instead. It had been recommended to me by Jennifer and it wasn’t bad. It was the guys first book so my inner literary critic came out but it was very nice to read and listen to the bugs and quiet. It is wonderfully quiet here.
Saturday morning is for the Lutheran Heathen and me although I definitely agreed to go with them to their sabbath celebration next week and also to preach? (Unfortunately my current theology reading has been all about the Eucharist and that might not be the best topic to choose.) I’m not really sure they are letting me use the piano if I come.
I woke up read half of another book and then having sated my book withdrawals got up to work on my blog and eat my delicious breakfast of peanutbutter, banana, and toast, and a cup of coffee. I haven’t gotten tired of this yet. And the coffee situation. Don’t even get me started. The cleaning ladies threw away the lid to my coffee so because the Latinos and I have the same type of coffee I thought I’d poor mine in with theirs. I. Do. Not. Go. through coffee like them. I’m pretty sure they snort it or something, but honestly I should have expected that, let’s be real.
Rick and I hung out and talk about art and he sketched a giraffe. He is really excellent and furthermore has excellent taste in music. I feel like he could be my uncle or something. Although his humor is an aquired taste that I’ve gotten used to. It is an interesting thing about art that even though we have different mediums we can talk about so many things in the same way–such as interpretation and expression. Of course he also plays the guitar while I can’t really draw.
While he is in Mwami he is rebuilding a house and is the mantience manager for the hospital which he hates–”I’m getting nowhere near the espestis roof–that is something I will write a grant for and that’s it. He was given this job after confessing to doing some of his own housework.
We hung out and drank coffee listening to his music and it was a pretty good way to spend a saturday morning. When the church goers got back we packed up to walk up to the Ang’s for lunch. Apparently the service had been good although Patrice was annoyed by whoever had taught the lesson and Emmanuel had been forced to pray in front of the group again–which I don’t get the feeling he loves. I think Asbel would like it but they don’t know how to ask him because he doesn’t speak much English or Nchanga.
The Ang’s live just a quarter mile up the road and it is beautiful. It is backed up against the mountains which are like Savannah forests (I can see now why Beth is afraid of snakes.) They have a manicured hedge garden including hedges shaped into chairs and a welcome sign. They were getting ready for the lunch in the pine grove that Dr. Ang had planted when he’d first gotten to Mwami. It was Gemini Peduche’s birthdya and the Peduche’s belated anniversary. There were about a million different options for food. Ugali (they call is Shima here), vegetables, salads, a few different meat dishes, a tofu dish, sugar cane, watermelon, fried eggplant. Anything and everything in between.
Ishmael and I got into a nonverbal battle about who would get food first because we were both being asked to and neither one of us wanted to. I won. I am quiet stubborn when I just refuse to move. I sat down with Emmanuel, Ishmael, Asbel, and Gemini, which it doesn’t seem like I’m the person who should sit next to the birthday boy but Dr. Peduche and Beth were preoccupied. Besides us there were the Peduche/Ang’s housekeepers family, some nursing students who were “spiritual children?” and a few other people that I’m not sure who they were. It did feel a little segregated because the Zambians all sat on benches and everyone else sat at the table.
Emmanuel has been here for two years and is part of the Marantha mission? I’m not sure what that is but I know they have fifty volunteers from the states coming in July. He is working on seeing a secondary school built. He is engaged and I think ready to go home.
Ishmael and Asbel are both helping with the school and are only here for 3 months. Ishmael has young kids and Asbel has university age kids. Apparently Panama is very small and pretty. That was about the depth of our conversation. Although I asked them how they liked being here and before they answered Gemini just said, “They love it obviously how could you not.” If I were them I’d probably be a little homesick for my family. The food was excellent even though half of it I had no idea what it was. I did avoid the potato salad today. There was also homeade guava juice which was excellent.
After lunch there was birthday cake to be had. It is a tradition at least in this part of Zambia for their to be a knife girl who dances up to the cake. They had their friend–one of the Zambians Sarah (who I think used to be Beth’s nanny) do it. It was a really fun tradition. There were so many people that the smallish cake was given out very judiciously be Mrs. Ang. A little too much so as it turns out, because there was plenty left. Also who designed cake decorations that weren’t edible? I hate ball bearings.
Everyone slowly dispersed after this except the Ang’s the Peduches, the Lewison’s (The California couple), and I. Beth and I got to talk more about podcasts, reading, and cooking. She is actually very sad to be leaving next week to go to a wedding.
One of the conversations involved names they’ve heard in the hospital. Here are a few, “Justdidit, (maybe a Nike Fan, maybe a misunderstanding), comeless (I don’t even want to think about this), Savior (not bad), Worried (watch this kid not have anxiety), and Written (which could be really deep or just annoying.) Another one I’ve been introduced to is Black–that was the guys name. Although I wouldn’t put it past a Karen to name their kid “Blanco,” so no judgement.
It sounds like for the weather in Mwami I’ve hit the jackpot. It is relatively cool, it’s dry, and it’s green. As the season goes on it gets colder and brown and dry. Then it rains and gets foggy, and then it gets hot dry and on fire, and then rainy, and then back to cool and dry. Well sort of something like this at least close enough. Meanwhile I’m here while the flowers are blooming and there are chicks running around everywhere.
We finally left at about four O’clock so I went for an evening walk to stretch my legs that were not used to sitting in a lawn chair all day–even though it was an awesome afternoon. The Ang’s house looks out over the whole valley and I can totally see why he’s been on mission here for thirty years.
Anyways back to my walk. I just walked the perimeter of the hospital and said hi to the Zambians headed home. A lot of them ride bicycles which is really fun. The birds were out in force, the evening light made everything golden, and the corn stalks were waving. I was feeling very lonely and sure it would have been nice to share this with someone but it’s hard to be lonely in such beauty.
The mosquitos here are huge. I just smashed one against my screen that was full of my blood and he was a large one. Anyways back to wherever I was at. Oh yes. Have you ever heard of Danny Kaye? I haven’t but Richard and Patrice think he’s the best thing ever so perhaps it is worth watching a show with him in it. Did I do my laundry? No I bought tickets with my mom to Livingston, ate dinner, and watched half of the Oscar Romero movie and only teared up a little bit over it. (So I think I’ve still got my cry streak going.) That’s it. I know that Saturday was a little rushed but I have better stories if I get caught back up so hopefully tomorrow I’ll write Sunday and Monday-You’ll get to meet Pastor Dream-and it will feel less rushed.
Song of the post: 8 Days a Week by the Beatles (Because Rick was listening to it while sketching also remind me he said he’d draw me a picture of the monestary and Vistula if I send him the picture.)
Quote of the Post: “Prepare yourself mentally Claire, that’s all I can say to do you, we look forward to seeing you!” -Dr. Ang on the phone Thursday Night.