Reunited

and it feels so good

Bats and a Bird

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays. It conjures up memories of fallen leaves, chilled crisp air, family catching up around a table, a delicious home-cooked meal, and nursing food comas around a smoldering fire.

How do you celebrate Thanksgiving in Africa? You search, borrow and improvise. Turns out, it’s a pretty exportable holiday.

Our families may be far away, but good friends make their own sort of family. My roommates and I did our best to create an authentic setting. We pulled together all the table and table-like objects in our home (including the washing machine) and covered them in fabric. We set proper place settings and lit candles and even projected a fireplace on the wall. The weather did its part to recreate home, gifting us with a damp, chilly day.

My roommates and I found a turkey and the makings for stuffing. This was my first turkey, so I was fairly concerned throughout the whole process. But, with help from my roommate, it came out golden brown and delicious.

Our guests brought everything together with their outstanding cooking. The scrumptious spread included:

-          The Turkey

-          Roasted Rosemary Chicken

-          Cheesy Bread

-          Corn Casserole

-          Green Beans

-          Mashed Potatoes

-          Gravy

-          Sweet Potatoes with Marshmallows and Candied Pecans

-          and of course, Apple Pie

(Sitting down to dinner)

The next morning, we roused ourselves early (not without a struggle) to head north to Kasanka National Park. Every year tons (hundreds of thousands? millions?) of fruit bats migrate from all over South-central Africa to this particular park. My friend explained the attraction well: “Bats are like hair; if you see one you might be like ‘ew’ but if you see a whole bunch, you think ‘wow, that’s pretty beautiful.’”

We offroaded to our campsite, pitched our tents, and then set out to catch the bats taking off at sunset. I’m not sure anything could have prepared us for what we saw; it is such an extraordinary event. It started suddenly; someone spotted a few bats overhead, and they quickly grew in number. We rushed from a parking lot to an open field to get a better view. We could see a bat cloud swirling and growing in size amongst the trees in front of us. It grew and grew and eventually headed our way, spreading across the sky as far as the eye could see. It was hard to capture the scale of it on camera, but the setting sun behind the clouds did make for a nice backdrop.

The next morning, we awoke early to see them returning to their trees at sunrise. On the way, some of us rode in the bed of the pickup. The bumpy half hour ride was made completely worth it by our surroundings. To watch the light grow imperceptibly; to see the trees and animals materialize out of the heavy mist, to catch sight of the first bats flying overhead through the tree canopy, following the car; it was all incredible. Watching the sun rise over misty fields from the hide built into a tree high off the ground was wonderful as well.

The most beautiful moment of this very beautiful weekend, in my opinion, came on our drive back to camp after the sun had set. After fording a river, we came out into an open field. Switching the car off, we could see thousands of fireflies all around us. As we sat in the darkness, more and more of them materialized. The stars pushed their way through the clouds and, on the horizon, thunderheads crackled with lightening. It was one of those moments that will stick with me for a very long time.

"Still"

Elusive song: found. Happy Thanksgiving!

Stormy Weather

It starts quietly, first invading your dreams, taking you to waterfalls or sailing in high winds or that childhood memory of standing outside during a hurricane. Eventually, the drumming of the rain against the roof grows in intensity, slowly pulling you up through the haze into consciousness. By the time you piece together where you are (in bed- still dark out- too early for work) the noise has reached an astonishing level and continues to grow. The drumming and crashing is amplified in the breezeway outside and resounds through the windows, filling the room. And this is just the rain.

If thunderstorms at home are the sound of God bowling, then in Zambia, He must be on that level of Wii bowling where you knock down a hundred pins at once.

The first crash comes unexpectedly, with no warning rumbles in the distance. It is violently loud, exploding over the sound of the rain and shocking me fully awake. I remember thunder at home as a crash followed by echoing rumbles, or a brief tear into the fabric of the sky; here, each is a massive concussive blast that continues unabated for long stretches, sometimes five seconds or more.

I listen for a while, unconsciously pulling the covers over my body despite the heat. I’m not seeing any lightening, so there’s no warning before each crash. I count the seconds between them, for no particular reason. I wonder how it compares to a full aerial and naval bombardment. Probably pretty close.

Each time I start to drift back asleep; rumble..CRACK BOOM - and I am catapulted awake again.

I stuff my head between two pillows, hoping to muffle the sound. Now the lightening appears. Bursts of white light find their way through the curtains and strobe across the walls. Closing my eyes offers little relief.

Eventually, the rains subside. The smell of earth kicked up by their force is heavy in the air. It’s suddenly much cooler, as if someone had opened the door in a stuffy room. It should be easier to sleep, but the celestial salvo continues for some time. Slowly, the sound of the storm shifts into the distance, and I doze off again, visions of morning mud puddles dancing through my head.  

Lusaka News Flash

Let’s take a look at our top stories:

Weather Forecast: It’s hot. Really hot. I would estimate that I expend two thirds of my daily energy focusing on not melting. The remaining third is split between eating, breathing and typing. All our hopes are pinned on the imminent rains, but they seem to have taken a detour on their way to Zambia.

Sports Highlights: The Frisbee tournament, hosted jointly by R&G Events and ZamUltimate, was a huge success. Upwards of 60 people turned out for a day full of incredible displays of athleticism and perseverance. The level of competition was high and many of the games ended in nail-biting overtime. My team, Dark Blue, clawed our way into the semi-finals but our fairy-tale run was cut short, in part by the surgical throwing precision of a fellow Tufts Alum on the White Team. In the end, the Orange Team carried the day after emphatically steamrolling the competition.

(Favorite photo of the day: such raw emotion)

(Tournament participants)

Traffic Update: It’s still slow going on the streets of Lusaka these days, at least for this particular motorist. My loyal Toyota Surf, so scrappy and tough when I first arrived, has been KO’d for about a month now. It’s been necessary to adopt a “wait and see” attitude when it comes to finishing the repairs, and that can certainly get frustrating. Some resolution to this affair would bring as much relief as the rains.

Business News: Lacking a car has created some difficulties in accomplishing all the daily activities I was undertaking before. However, it has created an opportunity to focus on some of my other goals and responsibilities at work. Our Grade 12’s are nearing the end of their secondary school careers (one school has already finished their exams), and their gap year is now right around the corner. Finalizing the program for this next year has become an immediate necessity. It can be a little overwhelming trying to arrange plans for ten people over the course of  a year, but I’m really happy with what we’ve come up with so far. I think our students are going to be both active and challenged, giving back to their communities while at the same time preparing for their futures.

Coming up next: The Bat Migration, Thanksgiving in Africa and the KF Mentor Luncheon and Fun Day

We Survived Rapid Five

When we rolled out of Lusaka on Friday en route to Livingstone, I wasn’t sure what to expect from the next three days. What followed was one of the most adventurous and fun weekends I’ve had in a long time. I hope my summaries together with the pictures will do justice to our experiences.

Arriving at our hostel Friday night, we briefly explored Livingstone’s main drag before calling it an early night. In the morning I was able to meet up with Erin, the only other Princeton in Africa Fellow in Zambia, for a delicious breakfast. It was really nice to see firsthand where she lives and works and hear more about what her fellowship experience has been like. While we reside in the same country, our lives definitely differ in a lot of ways. I’m envious of her proximity to nature, Victoria Falls and all the outdoor activites around.

After breakfast, I caught up with our group which had grown as people continued to arrive from Lusaka by bus. We set off for the falls toting our cameras, bathing suits and plenty of sunblock. We stopped off at the bridge connecting Zimbabwe and Zambia, where two of our friends zip-lined across the canyon, before arriving at the main park. Losing all track of time, and probably giving myself mild heat exhaustion, I wandered up and down the path facing the falls with my camera and tripod looking for good shots. As it is the height of dry season, the flow of the falls is a mere trickle compared to the last time I’d seen it in 2008. The water was less impressive, but it allowed us the chance to really get a look at the enormous gorge and the towering walls. 

I made it back to the group just in time for our afternoon tour along the edge of the falls. 11 of us and our guide picked our way across what is typically the rushing Zambezi River, but is currently a mostly dried up rocky riverbed. We traced a path literally right along the edge of the gorge towards the ominously named Devil’s Pool. Fearlessly, we forded the remnants of the river and picked our way over stones worn smooth by flowing water. Finally, we reached our destination; a pool of water directly on the edge of the cliff. 

(The group ahead of us in Devil's Pool)

The pool is formed by a uniquely shaped rock which marks the edge of the cliff and encloses some of the water from the current. On both sides, the river still rushes past and tumbles down the canyon wall. From a rocky island we jumped into this fairly small pool. We were instructed to carefully jump far enough to avoid the rocks at the near edge, but not so far as to leap over the 300 ft drop directly behind. Being in Devil’s Pool stands out as one of the most simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying moments of my life. Two feet to my left and I would have joined the rushing flow plunging to the base of the falls. Instead, we were treated to an up close perspective of the raw power of the falls and enjoyed a beautiful sunset from atop one of the wonders of the world.

The following day we white water rafted down the Zambezi. In a convoy of large yellow rafts we put into the river below the Zim/Zam bridge, just after where the falls come crashing down. Rafting the Zambezi is best in the dry season, and we came at a time when the river is at just the right height and the rapids are at their finest. Never having been rafting before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. It became apparent to me from the very first rapid how absurd this experience was going to be. We basically paddled as fast as we could into each rapid, then threw ourselves at its mercy. In the bigger rapids, there were huge drops followed by giant walls of whitewater that would smash across the raft, sweeping away anything, or anyone, that wasn’t properly secured. 

On Rapid 5, known as the Stairway to Heaven (or, the Highway to Hell), we experienced our flipping fiasco. I can really only describe what transpired based on the video footage we watched at the end of the trip; everything in the moment was just water and whiteness. We crashed hard into the first wall of water in the rapid and our raft flipped easily, flinging two of us away and trapping two underneath. 

We continued through the rest of the rapid in these less than ideal locations. Those under the boat fought their way out and clung on. The other “long swimmer” and I were eventually picked up by safety guides in kayaks who had followed us in. For those 15 to 30 seconds in between, though, the experience was pretty harrowing. Getting to the surface was a struggle, but even then it was difficult to catch any breath as I got hammered again and again by white walls of water. All the while I’m trying to remember how to position my body to avoid getting my feet caught in rocks or slamming into them head-on. Needless to say, I was very happy when the kayaker fought his way close enough for me to grab hold. Clambering back into the raft at the end of the rapid, out of breath and shaken, we looked around at each other with wide eyes. The Zambezi had shown us who was boss, and we continued onward with that lesson in our minds. 

Minus the temporary loss of one of our shipmates to Rapid 7, we passed through the remaining rapids without any more serious incidents. In total we traveled 27 winding kilometers through 24 rapids. They ranged in size from small enough for us to intentionally swim through to one that was so dangerous we were forced to walk around it. In between rapids we admired the towering canyon walls, did a little swimming and conducted a few inter-raft raids. Exhausted, sunburned and soaked to the core at the end of the day, we were nonetheless happy and triumphant. Despite the occasional near-drowning experience, I wouldn't hesitate to go rafting again.

Monday was a holiday (Independence Day) so we didn’t have to hurry back to Lusaka. We woke up early Monday morning, had another delicious breakfast, then drove over to the Mosi o Tunya game reserve to do a short self-drive. Even in the morning the sun was strong and the heat seemed to push most of the animals into the shade and out of sight. We were lucky enough to locate one of the park guards who led us on foot to see the rhinos. The only seven white rhinos in all of Zambia are located in this park and are guarded 24/7 to protect them from poachers. We got close enough to see one of the mothers and her calf and take a few photographs before beating a hasty retreat back to the car. Having been charged a few times, our guide was happy to play it safe. Still, it was incredible to see these enormous tanks of animals in their natural habitat. Satisfied with this as a proper ending to our trip, we hit the road and made it back to Lusaka in good time. I've already started planning my next trip to Livingstone.

Hello Hot Season

There’s no doubting it anymore- the hot season has arrived. Though it’s only been in the mid to upper 90’s, the sun burns with exceptional intensity. It’ the kind of heat that will render the inside of your car a blistering, uninhabitable wasteland if you leave it parked in the sun for long. The sun just bakes the asphalt to the point where walking feels more like being roasted from all sides in an oven. Hopefully it will only be a few more weeks before the rains come and cool things down a bit. Although, if I don’t get serious about fixing the A/C in my car, I may not make it that far.

Speaking of cars, keeping my cool has been even trickier thanks to a week of automotive troubles. First, failing brakes and unnatural sounds coming from under the hood forced me to hand my car over to the mechanic (again). The mechanic we use is a great guy, and knowing how much I need a car for my job, he offered to let me use his while he worked on mine. It was a good temporary solution, but his car requires even more loving attention than my own. Heavily tinted windows make driving at night complicated. A lack of wiper blades makes driving in the rain problematic. A broken windshield makes driving in general tricky. Even getting in the car is difficult as there are no handles and only two of the doors unlock. The shifter sticks, the interior lights frequently go off, and this morning I woke up to find one of the tires had deflated. He did warn me the fuel gauge was “deceptive,” but I learned the hard way today just how misleading it could be. Driving down the highway, I found out that a quarter tank actually means completely and utterly empty. Thankfully, there was a filling station nearby which I limped into, literally running on the fumes of fumes.

On a more positive note, there have been some really cool things going on at work lately. First of all, we’ve reached the final stage of our selection process for next year’s scholarship recipients. We spent many hours last week driving all over Lusaka to interview the 15 students who received top marks on the exam we administered last month. Visiting their homes and talking with the students allowed us to make a more detailed assessment of both their vulnerability and their personalities. I think we all came away with a better idea of who will make the best additions to our program. Unfortunately, funding limitations will probably not allow us to take all 15 students, so we will be facing some difficult decisions soon.

There has also been a lot of progress with one of our student community service projects. A group of both KF and non-KF students at Chalo Trust School have been working on a project dealing with the environment; specifically the dangers of plastics and improper waste disposal. In conjunction with students from the International School of Lusaka and various non-profits, we have been looking for ways to take this project to the next level. The idea is to use different mediums (art, literature, music…) to spread messages about dangers to the environment, and also health, to members of the students’ communities. The first steps toward this goal are beginning to be realized; some students have been making art projects out of recycled materials while others have written a simple book which talks about a particular environmental risk in communities. Today I took the story to a primary school to be illustrated by the younger students there.  

(KF, Chalo and ISL students working on artwork made from recycled materials)

Outside of work, the next few weeks are shaping up to be pretty interesting. We’re heading to Livingstone for the upcoming long weekend where we’re planning to whitewater raft and walk along the edge of Victoria Falls. I’m also hoping to be able to cross into Zimbabwe and meet up with the couple whose home I stayed at 3 years ago. The following weekend is Halloween, and after that my housemates’ production company (R&G Events) is throwing another party. They’ve purchased a foam cannon which, we have discovered, can bury a car and half a dozen people in under 5 minutes. 

(The foam machine in action)

Before the festivities at night, there will be a Frisbee tournament involving hopefully a hundred people from all over Zambia. We ordered some custom Frisbees for the occasion that I helped design. They just arrived this week and look pretty great. Expect some good stories and new photos soon!

(Our ZamUltimate Frisbees)

Mission: Malawi

It was still dark when we loaded our belongings into the taxi, conducted a final bleary-eyed review of the essential items, and set off for the bus station. Arriving in time to catch an earlier bus, we squeezed our way on board, crammed our bags into any remaining spaces, and, settling into our seats, eagerly awaited the beginning of our journey to the Lake of Stars music festival in Malawi.

The driver must have known we were music lovers because he wasted no time in putting on his vast collection of gospel hits, sung in auto-tuned Nyanje with elaborate synth accompaniment. As it was very early and most people looked ready to doze off, he made sure to set the volume somewhere between ear-splitting and mind-numbing to prevent anyone from missing out. So, from 5:45 in the morning to about 9, our thoughts, dreams, even our very existence, was fully pervaded by these soulful serenades. At our first pit-stop somewhere in the mountains of central Zambia, we finally got a reprieve, allowing our brains a chance to reform to their original shape. But even after starting out again the music remained paused. We wondered; could we be so lucky? But it was merely an opportunity for some sermonizing from a fellow passenger. So while enjoying our complementary pineapple Fantas, we dutifully learned about thieves and good shepherds, though I find it hard to recall how they were related. In an abrupt and concerning turn of events, the entertainment following the preacher was Wrong Turn 3: Left for Dead, a gratuitously violent movie involving murderous cannibal hillbillies and concluding with the death of every character in the film. Fully over-stimulated by this point, we spent the remainder of the trip in a confused catatonic state, and were all too happy when the bus rolled into our final destination: Chipata. We stayed the night in this border town with a friend, collected two more compatriots from the airport in the morning, then in a hired van, the five of us set out for Malawi.

Immediate impressions of Malawi found many similarities with Zambia, but that’s not surprising considering the permeable, flexible borders and shared heritage. Quickly, the landscape opened up. Rolling green plains were strewn with immense rock formations jutting out in angular ways like sinking ships. We passed through the capital, Lilongwe, and though it was hard to explain why, we could definitely feel we were in a different country. In a few hours we drew close to the mountains and began ascending into their heights. Through them we traced a twisting and meandering route, peppered with hair-pin turns, the kind at the end of which you find you’ve been unconsciously holding your breath. At last, we made it to the other side and could see massive Lake Malawi stretched across the horizon.

The festival was held directly on the lake, so both our campsite and the stage area were on the beach. After sorting out some logistical problems due to the lack of cell service, we were able to set up camp before nightfall and made it to the first night of music. In the morning, we were awoken by sunrise and, climbing out of our tents, were struck by the view. Amongst palms of different varieties and heights, colorful tents dotted the beach like blooming exotic flowers, rain flies fluttering in the cool breeze coming off the water. 

(The campsite)

Ringing the expansive lake, implied ghosts of purple mountains could be seen through mist.  During the day, even in the morning, the heat was intense. Luckily, this was one of those rare African lakes that are swimmable- you risk a couple parasites but at least there are few crocodiles. We divided our days between swimming, lounging and eating. The most active we got was either climbing a nearby hill or the dancing in the sand all night (actually pretty tiring). 

(From the hill: stage can been seen on beach through trees on center right)

The second night was the musical highlight of the trip, and the best of the best had to have been Freshlyground, a South African group. I’ve been hearing of them for years but had missed many chances to see them live. I guess they’ve reached a pretty high level of fame by this point; last year they recorded WakaWaka with Shakira for the World Cup. When they played that as an encore (sans Shakira) the whole beach was just a moving mass of happy faces. We had one more day and night to soak in all the beauty of the lake, the happy music and the friendly people before having to say goodbye. Early Monday morning we climbed, exhausted but happy, into our van and started back the way we came.

In our short journey we saw a beautiful face of Malawi, but we also got a glimpse of another side of the country. It is currently undergoing both political and economic upheaval as the ruling party dukes it out with both foreign governments and unhappy citizens. 40% of Malawi’s budget comes from foreign aid, and the UK is the primary contributor. However, after a row over alleged mishandling of government money and authority (read: shiny new jet for the president), diplomatic relations with Britain have crumbled. The British high commissioner was expelled and in retaliation, Britain, followed by others, froze much of its aid. A lack of foreign exchange has inhibited the purchasing of fuel to the point where, “fuel stations are just for decoration here,” as our driver put it. The rare station that has gas also has long lines of cars. Lack of fuel and new austerity measures have sparked deadly riots around the country.

Even in our brief travels across the country we felt the effects of these problems. Running out of gas on our way home, we spent almost an hour in Lilongwe looking for somewhere to refill. With all the uncertainty and scarcity of fuel, it was surprising to see the roads still jammed with cars. In the end we had to drive all the way to a bootlegger’s house to get 5 liters out of a water jug. I’m certain we burned more than that searching for it. Our journey was complicated further by another particularly ugly side-effect of the country’s woes. All along the roads we had to contend with an ever present, ever greedy, Malawian police force. We must have gone through over a dozen “checkpoints” over the course of the trip, sometimes as close as five minutes apart. Probably unpaid by the government, their salaries are made up by “fines” collected at these stops. Time and time again we were stopped and payment was unrelentingly demanded. It passed the point of reasonable; even our calm driver was pushed to extreme agitation. We finally limped our way back into Zambia, and I couldn’t suppress a smile as the friendly customs agent stamped my passport: it was a spectacular trip, but it was good to be home.

Let's Hear it for Zambia

Late last night, Zambians achieved what has, of late, eluded many other countries: the successful and peaceful transfer of power from one political party to another. After a relatively quiet couple days of voting and counting, the results were made official around midnight last night. Upon their announcement, crowds of exuberant supporters, armed with car horns and vuvuzelas, took to the streets in celebration. Somehow I managed to sleep through it all, but this morning you can still see echoes of the jubilant night. The roads are jammed with marchers and there’s a literal symphony of triumphant honking, whistling and singing as people hang out their car windows with wild abandon. Everywhere you look the blue propaganda of the incumbent party has been quickly and effectively replaced by posters and wraps in opposition green, and the refrain of the opposition’s theme song, Donchi Kubeba (Don’t Tell Them) can be heard from every direction. This is a marked change from the past two days, when Lusaka was an empty ghost town. There was a huge army and police presence on the streets and all businesses would close up at the slightest rumor of unrest.

It's true, it wasn't a perfect execution; opportunistic mobs burned and looted businesses in a few cities across the country, and opposing supporters clashed in the compounds (though the vast majority of businesses and citizens were safe and secure). In addition, far too much money was spent on the campaigns and the government was wrong to silence all but state media ahead of the announcing the results. Nonetheless, the crowning success cannot be denied: the opposition candidate has been elected and the incumbent party is duly and peacefully handing over power. Not to say I believe one party to be better than another, I truly don't have the knowledge or experience to comment on Zambian politics. Rather, I'm celebrating the turnover (after twenty years) and the transition. If, by the end of today, this changeover reaches a peaceful resolution, I think the world should applaud what has happened here. With respect for fellow citizens and for the foundations of a democratic system, Zambians have laid the framework for a model of peaceful and representative elections which should be built on by all countries, in Africa and beyond.

Read more here and here 

What's New? (Other than the year)

Cruising on a secluded back road, returning from one of our schools to town, the windows are down, the breeze is perfect, Paul Simon is crooning from the speakers and the landscape is awash with a spectacularly orange sunset that seems to last for hours. These are the times I can really just relax and enjoy what’s happening around me. I wish I could share all of these little moments, but at least I can tell you about some of the cool things that have been happening here.

(A brilliant sunrise)

First of all, happy 2004! No I’m not suffering from heat stroke, that’s the new year as of yesterday according to the Ethiopian calendar. I’m sure my fellow fellows in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia enjoyed some great celebrations there, but even in Lusaka we observed the holiday. My roommate was invited to a new years party put on by the Ethiopian community here by a coworker at the UN, and she took me along. The food was amazing, the company was great and it was wonderful to sit in on the celebration of what felt like one big family. There was a roving band of singing kids decked out in their finest clothes approaching tables and handing out roses in exchange for a donation (nothing short of extortion through cuteness). Unsurprisingly, there was plenty of impressive dancing in styles I had never seen before involving lots of exaggerated shoulder and leg movement (more on this here). The highlight may have been the tradition of jumping over a roaring bonfire as a test of one’s manliness. All of this redoubled my resolve to visit Ethiopia at some point in the next year.

There have been a few firsts in the past month; we had our first student move on to the next step in life as he headed out to do his A-levels at the African Leadership Academy in South Africa. We’re very proud and happy for him as he joins the ranks of other future African leaders who've attended this prestigious program. I had my first paid gig as a photographer, shooting headshots at a party for a casting company. KF had our first event where we were able to gather some of our older students and their mentors together for dinner and a discussion of their futures. It was a delicious meal and a very productive dialogue.

Right now it’s hot and dry, and it hasn’t rained in months, but amazingly life is starting to bloom here. There are trees filled with stunning purple flowers that look absolutely surreal scattered on the rust colored ground. There's bougainvillea that looks like rolling waves of color overflowing the walls of houses around town. Even the thorny plants growing out of the gravel in my yard are putting out dramatic red flowers. I’m told that this is just the smallest taste of the lush, vibrant rainy season, so that’s definitely something to look forward to.

(Bougainvillea)

There’s a farm out in Lusaka West where they keep lions- mostly for breeding, but a couple as actual pets. All questions about the intelligence of keeping wild predators as pets aside, it was pretty incredible to be close enough to touch these beautiful and, happily, friendly big cats.

Community service is a big part of our scholarship program; each student is expected to design and implement a project. One of the ongoing projects has been the sensitization of communities to the issue of waste disposal, specifically plastics. To help the students further this project, we’ve been looking at different ways they could teach people how to reuse plastics. Two of the places we’ve visited so far to help inspire the kids have been pretty incredible. 

First, we met a group of boys in one of the compounds who, on their own initiative, have been creating instruments (drums, kazoos, cymbals) out of rubbish. What’s more, they’ve organised themselves into a legitimate band, with a repertoire of well rehearsed songs and even marching choreography. I was told sometimes they march down the main streets to raise money for their school fees. I don't have the internet bandwidth to post the videos I took of these so called Band Boyz, so a picture will have to do instead. 

Another weekend, we visited a hospital where the relatives of the patients are taught how to make jewelry and bags out of paper and plastic so they can earn a little money. The techniques were very precise and at times painstaking, but the end products are really amazing. This ingenuity and enterprise definitely impressed and inspired me, and I hope it did the same for our kids.

Thanks for reading! With the national elections next week and an upcoming trip to Malawi for the Lake of Stars music festival at the end of the month, I'm sure there will be more stories to share soon.

Rules of the Road

Life in Lusaka is full of speed bumps. No, not metaphorical ones, real cement humps in the middle of the road. They’re everywhere, of varying size and degree of concealment. Seriously, I feel like they were intentionally made to be impossible to see; under the shade of a tree, around a sharp corner, with no distinguishing coloring or warning signs. At first, this made for some exciting and unpredictable car rides. You’re cruising down the road, mid conversation with the person in the passenger seat when “WHUMP” your heads are hitting the ceiling and the car is making all sorts of concerning sounds. The other day I realized, when I didn’t slam full speed into a particularly sneaky one on my ride home, I was actually getting a hang of where they were located. In fact, I feel like I’m learning how to avoid a lot of speed bumps (metaphorical ones this time) related to driving in this city. Here are some things I’ve discovered so far:

When backing up, don’t expect any consideration from other drivers other than helping you find your blind spots and test your brakes; they will find any way to cut behind you.

If you plan to meet someone or pick something up, even if you’ve confirmed, always, always call ahead; gas isn’t cheap so you risk wasting a lot more than time.

If someone flashes their high beams at you it’s easier to just make something up rather than try to figure out their reasoning. Are your high beams on? No. Maybe there’s a cop ahead? Probably not. Perhaps they’re commenting on the weather, or maybe they’re lonely and just want a little human contact. I was worried I was missing out on some Zambian driving code until someone flashed us when I was in a taxi and I asked the driver why. I had to laugh when he answered, “I have no idea.”

It’s important to realize that the colors of a traffic light have different meaning here. Green is go, yellow is go faster, and red is keep going until a car from the other direction physically blocks your path.

Passing is encouraged, often necessary with the sorry state of some of the cars here, but if you’re stuck behind a slow moving election campaign convoy, it’s best just to accept your fate and take the opportunity to admire the scenery.

Road rage, on the other hand, is frowned upon. If some cheating driver cuts a long line for a light, the typical Zambian will let not only him in, but also the ten other cars attempting the same move. A simple nonchalant wave of the hand out the window seems to excuse even the most thoughtless and dangerous driving decisions. You can imagine how frustrating this can get for someone from the ruthless world of Boston driving.

However, I did get put in my place the other day when attempting to reverse out of a parking space. After the third car mercilessly blocked my exit I lost my patience and laid on the horn. When the other driver got out of his car I braced for a verbal attack, but was surprised and humbled to hear instead, “Peace is the most important.” Needless to say, I let him pass, and have tried to always keep that in mind since then, even in the most maddening of situations. I guess switching sides of the road wasn’t the biggest adjustment to driving here.

Catching up: Two Busy Weeks in Lusaka

Two weeks ago I moved into my new place, and I feel like life has been in fast forward since then. This post may be a bit disjointed, but I want to write a little about what I’ve been up to before I lose any more time.

The end of the first week of August was the deadline for short listing our best applicants for the scholarship this year. This meant scrambling all week to make sure I had read and graded all one hundred and thirty or so applications from our partner basic schools. As most of our applicants come from very vulnerable backgrounds, this frequently proved to be a difficult task.  Judging on financial need alone, it would be impossible to pick only a handful from this pool. Because we are looking for exceptional academic achievement as well, it is possible to identify a group of students who fit both criteria. As in any case where you are using a narrow tool to address a wide need, it is difficult to put aside those who do not fit the criteria as well. However, after a long staff meeting to compare our picks, I have a really good feeling about the forty Grade 7’s we have selected to sit our exams. We’ll have to await the exam results to know for sure, but I’m confident there are some brilliant, driven students in that group who will make good use of this scholarship.

This past week was the beginning of KF’s Work Experience program, one of the programs I'm responsible for. Each year we find work placements for our Grade 10 students for a week during their August holiday. We try to place them at businesses or organisations in their field of interest where they can also get an idea of what working in an office is like, discover some of their talents and strengths and gain useful skills for the future. During this past week we had students at Nkanza Labs, a pathology laboratory; CIDRZ, a health organisation which is fighting HIV/AIDS through treatment, research and training; and Afri-Connect, one of the big internet providers in Zambia. 

(Martinho gets a lesson in blood clotting at Nkanza Labs)

(Ngosa attends a puppet show put on by CIDRZ in order to sensitize children about HIV/AIDS)

(Edson keeps an eye on the grid at Afri-Connect)

Ensuring everything went well meant a lot of driving around to visit students at their placements and getting up at 5:30 every morning. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed this; it’s nice to see the sunrise and to feel like you’ve accomplished a lot by 9 in the morning. We’ll have to wait and see if I can manage to continue getting up early after the program ends. This week our other three Grade 10’s are going to Multi-Choice, one of Lusaka’s main TV providers; a cancer clinic at the University Teaching Hospital; and the WorldWide Fund for Nature. I am hoping these students will enjoy their placements as much as the first three seemed to.

Outside of work, things have been almost as busy. We’ve hosted some fun get-togethers at my new place already. We had an especially nice dinner last Tuesday where we cooked about 14 pounds of fresh crayfish from the farmers market and served that up alongside sautéed bok choy, delicious garlic mashed potatoes and capped off with Johanne’s now famous homemade chocolate cake rolls. 

(Lots of crayfish to be shelled)

Last week was also my first time playing rugby. Two of my roommates, former members of the national Zambian rugby team, are avid players. Luckily they are also patient teachers as I was starting from very close to zero knowledge about the sport. After gauging the size of some of our fellow players, I was pretty thankful we were playing touch rugby. The strategy is completely different from anything I’ve played before, especially the idea of only being able to pass backwards, but I think with some time and practice it could be pretty fun. The weekends have been a great combination of fun and relaxation. Two weekends ago we spent a lazy day enjoying a botanical garden just outside the city which also houses a wildlife reserves (pictures are up on Flickr). This past Saturday was another languid morning full of coffee and books before attending a marathon wedding anniversary for one of our mentors (and coincidentally, my friend’s landlord).

Other events from the past weeks include finally finishing the newsletter we send out to our mentors each term which is written and edited by the students (I can email you a copy if you’d like to see), meeting up with Erin, the other PiAf Fellow in Zambia during her twelve hour visit from Livingstone to Lusaka, and saying more goodbyes. Lusaka is losing one of the closest friends I've made here as she returns to Denmark to finish her masters, as well as our awesome intern Julian who heads back to school in Switzerland.

(Zambia PiAf Fellows!)

One story from last week; I’ve been meaning to buy a desk for my new room, but after doing some scoping on the roads where carpenters sell their goods, I was having trouble finding time to actually go make a purchase. I happened to be driving down that road one morning and, upon seeing a good choice, decided to just pull over and buy it on the spot. I negotiated a fair price (I think) but there was a catch; the desk wasn’t quite finished. Peter the carpenter offered to come finish it at my house, but I was actually on my way to work from a café. Not wanting to come back to this side of town later, I loaded the desk, Peter and all his tools into my car and drove to the café where he finished it up in the parking lot. We then brought it to my house before I dropped him off at home. It was just one of those moments that make you smile, made possible by so many elements that just wouldn’t happen at home. It was nice to buy something from the person who actually made it, and so far it’s been a great desk and good first step in my room-improvement plan.

In closing, I’d like to wish a late happy 34^th wedding anniversary to my parents, and an early happy 14^th birthday to my little sister Sophie; just because I’m not there doesn’t mean I’m not celebrating with you.

Homemade Pasta and Hugo the Hippo

The one month mark has come and gone. The fact that it slipped by unnoticed is a good sign; between a full work load and an eventful after work scene life has been pretty busy, but it’s been time well spent. Today is a new marker in my life here, one that’s a bit more noticeable. This will be the first night I spend away from my host family and in my new home. If you’re looking at a map of Lusaka, I’ve moved from way down in the bottom right corner up to the center-middle to an area called Kalundu. I’ll be living in a four bedroom house with two Zambians guys and an Australian girl. Having been able to spend time with them since arriving in June I know they are all great, hard-working people who are also a lot of fun. I actually got to know the two guys more while working as a photographer at a concert their production company, R&G Events, put on last weekend. I’m really looking forward to spending at least the next six months at this house. Most of all I’m excited to put down some roots, to finally unpack my suitcases, and to start cooking in my own kitchen.

(Working at the concert)

Before moving out of the Mwenye household, I cooked them a farewell dinner. I decided to go with an old standby; my interpretation of my Dad’s interpretation of my Grandmother’s unbelievable pasta sauce. I picked up fresh tomatoes, onion, garlic and parsley from the farmer’s market and was able to find most of the other ingredients at the grocery store. With some help from Aunt Paulina and Gertrude we managed to cook a pretty authentic version of the dish which was eyed warily at first as it bubbled in the pot, but was eventually enjoyed thoroughly by all.

(Gertrude enjoying her pasta)

This long weekend (today was Farmer’s Day) also contained another exciting event. It was my first time since getting here that I left the boundaries of Lusaka. A casual suggestion on Saturday morning came together quickly, and impressively, into a full blown overnight trip to Lake Kariba in the southeast of the country on the border with Zimbabwe. It’s hard to explain the full benefit of escaping from the dry crowded city into the rolling green hills and being close to a body of water for the first time in this land-locked country. While the road required some attentive driving, between overloaded trucks and sporadic potholes, the ride was only about two and a half hours and the scenery was captivating. The lake itself was massive; at 5,580 square kilometers it is the largest artificial lake in the world. It is the product of a dam that filled in a massive river valley along the Zambezi and which now supplies power to both Zambia and Zimbabwe. Unfortunately we were unable to swim due to the triple threat of bacteria, Nile crocodiles and the ever dangerous hippopotamus which call the lake home. We did, however, take a beautiful sunset cruise at night, and in the morning were able to go fishing. While as a team we failed to catch anything larger than my thumb, we did come very close to a troop of island baboons, and our guide managed to snag himself a tiger fish, which lives up to its namesake in the tooth department I must say.

(Sunset over Lake Kariba)

While the trip was on a whole extremely relaxing, we did find ourselves in a uniquely stressful situation after our sunset cruise. As we pulled up to shore we suddenly realized we had a rather large visitor in our campsite. Grazing his way toward our tents was the 5,000 lb resident of the area, Hugo the Hippo. It was very cool to see one outside of water and to really get a sense of their sheer mass; it’s much bigger than a cow and probably as tall as a horse. On the other hand, this bulk combined with their high aggression and territorial nature makes them one of the most dangerous animals in Africa. So it was with some trepidation that we approached to within thirty feet of Hugo to make our campfire and cook dinner. Having to walk past him to the bathroom sent my heart racing- every time he would raise his massive head from grazing and fix me with that unnerving stare it was all I could do not to sprint for the nearest building. We all breathed a little easier once he wandered off into the night, but I wasn’t the only one who later dreamed in his flimsy canvas tent of that massive beast meandering back through our site. Ultimately we survived our hippo encounter, and I came back to Lusaka today refreshed and ready for an important and busy week at work where we begin to narrow down this year’s applicant pool for the scholarships.

Rethinking the Farmer's Market

Dust choked sunlight pours in from the rafter windows of the warehouse and settles heavily on the endlessly shifting lines of figures flowing between colorful tarps loaded with produce and vendors. It’s just after quitting time and the weekly Tuesday farmers market is in full swing. Sacks of colorful spices jostle for space with avalanches of cabbage and lettuce. Watch your step as you squeeze down the crowded aisles lest you accidentally knock down one of the many pyramids of neatly stacked red and white onions. Buy peanuts by the kilogram, avocados the size of a small dog or tofu in either wet or dry form. It’s a bonanza of color and noise; rows upon rows of buyers and sellers, voices raised in the familiar verbal dance of haggling. A veritable sea of people ebbing and flowing with the tides of the bargain, crashing against itself violently where the aisles intersect, little eddies forming around the stands with the best product. Bring $10 and leave with enough fruits and vegetables for a week- and delicious ones at that.

It’s a common scene in developing countries all over the world. Women sitting all day in a crowded market or along the side of a road, shooing flies away with cow-hair switches, entreating passers-by to stop and examine their goods. For me, it became so commonplace I failed to scratch the surface of its meaning until recently. Without really thinking about it, I assumed these were women selling food they had produced themselves. I was given a fresh perspective on these markets, and on small scale vendors in general, after reading Abhijit Banerjee and Esther Duflo’s new book Poor Economics. In actuality, many of these vendors are purchasing their goods from a large supplier in the morning. Or, to be precise, they are renting them. Most of these individuals purchase their daily stock on credit and pay the supplier back at the end of the day, with interest. What really blows me away is exactly how much interest they pay. One of the studies cited in Poor Economics found the average produce vendor in Chennai, India was paying an interest rate of about 4.69% a day! Working off of that, the authors determined that, "a $5 loan, if it goes unrepaid for a year, leaves a debt of nearly $100 million.” It was this astonishing figure, and the possibilities that freeing vendors from this yoke would present, which helped create the idea of microlending, still one of the biggest buzzwords in the development field. Microlending is defined, according in part to Wikipedia as, “the extension of very small loans" [usually at modest interest rates] "to those in poverty designed to spur entrepreneurship”

The plot thickens when the authors attempt to assess the impact microlending has had on poor people across the world. In one comprehensive study they find, on the one hand, it hasn't had a negative impact and was helping bring down wasteful spending, but on the other hand, wasn’t dramatically boosting business creation or empowering women, two of the “sexier” results supporters are looking for (apologies to Jane). They had determined it was working, but not with the level of  impact people were hoping for, so they attempted to figure out why. Two of the reasons they found are also what make microlending as consistent as it has been. One, giving loans to groups of women, and therefore employing the social pressure of joint liability to ensure repayment, also discourages individuals from making any risky investments. Another is the strict repayment schedule borrowers must follow which starts shortly after the loan is received. This prevents people from investing in projects where the payout isn’t certain or immediate. Both of these stipulations cut down on loan defaults (for good reason) but also on risk, and failure, and therefore the impressive results many people are looking for.

One final reason questions the idea of poor people as “natural entrepreneurs”, a common tag line in microlending. The authors suggest that some of the deficiency in results may be be due to a lack of enthusiasm on the small business owners’ parts. They are running businesses that will likely never be able to grow beyond a certain point because of minuscule profits, saturated markets and/or unaffordable capital to make the leap into a bigger business. Plus, they’re not the greatest jobs in the world, more of something put together to help make ends meet. Many of these owners may be just biding their time until they can find a better/more interesting/more profitable job and have no interest in making a career out of being, say, a fruit vendor. Personally I found these conclusions to be at the same time fascinating but logical. However, as a relative amateur in this field, I would love to hear any thoughts or criticism.

If you’ve made it this far, I’m impressed, so I’ll leave you with the fun fact that I had a chicken foot for dinner tonight. You may or may not be disappointed I don’t have a picture to share.

Taking Off the Training Wheels (Or, The Cheapest Ticket Ever)

It’s quiet except for the sound of metal security gates rolling open and shut throughout the neighborhood. Everyone’s coming home for dinner, trying to beat the chill that follows on the coattails of sunset these days. I’m watching its afterglow in the backyard, eating spoonfuls of chunky peanut butter straight from the jar. It isn’t long after the last streaks of orange fade from the clouds before the cold forces me indoors as well.

At the end of my first week alone here, it’s a good time for reflection. Since Monday, I’ve no longer had the luxury of having Jamie around to guide me at work, bring me around to social events or, most serious of all, to direct me around town. It has come time for me to strike out on my own, to seek my own fortune, or something to that effect. I feel each day has been progressively easier and more productive. Slowly I’m figuring out where Jamie left off and attempting to carry on that work. At the same time, I’m trying to lay the groundwork of my own impact here. I’m meeting with the heads of the three private schools to hear their thoughts on the KF students, what changes (for better or worse) they’ve noticed in the program and kids and how we can more effectively work with the school administrations. I also spent an afternoon at Chalo interviewing each student individually to get a better picture of them both academically and personally, and I plan to do the same with the other two schools. I’ve found that one on one, the kids are much more open and friendly with me. Leaving the school that day I felt a rush of optimism; it was a good first step towards becoming more comfortable with each other.

I’ve moved into the Mwenye house for my homestay which should last until the end of July. I lucked out once again with my host family; the Mwenyes have made me feel truly at home from the minute I stepped through the door. There have been four young cousins visiting for the holiday so in my free time you can usually find me jumping rope, losing at tic-tac-toe, or playing games on the computer. In fact, they love computer chess and minesweeper so much I typically can’t sleep past 9 am on the weekends before being woken up by eager knocking. The location of the house is a trade off; it's very close to two of the schools but fairly far from just about everything else. As I look for housing for the remainder of my time here I’ll probably focus on areas closer to one of the main roads where the KF office is located, in the center-north of town. Fortunately, I have been provided with a car which makes traveling around the city infinitely easier. I’ll definitely be paying a stiff price for that luxury though when I use the car for personal driving; by my calculations it’s over $6 USD per gallon of diesel.

In other news here, KF just received an intern, Julian, from Switzerland who will be joining us for 6 weeks. He’ll be working primarily on creating short video profiles of the students. It’s surreal to be welcoming new people like Julian and others to Lusaka being so completely fresh off the plane myself. But I’m getting the impression that that’s the way of things here; the NGO worker/ expat scene seems like a constantly revolving door with people always coming or going. It’s a really strange context in which to try and build meaningful relationships, but seasoned veterans here assure me you get used to it, for the most part.

I’ll leave you with one funny anecdote. I was pulled over today for the first time, for answering my phone will driving. It was definitely dumb on my part as I’m new to driving here and the roads can be crazy at times, but it’s also illegal. So I didn’t protest when a cop hopped into my car at a stop sign and had me pull over. He told me the fine was 270,000 kwacha (about $50 USD) and asked how much I had on me. Having just bought gas, I had a laughable grand total of 25,000 kwacha. This amused my new passenger so much he called over a policewoman standing nearby. We chatted for a bit and, after realizing I was a poor NGO worker, they asked me to just fork over the little bit I had. The scene ended happily with the man mockingly handing me back a 5,000 note “for airtime” (i.e. to buy more talktime for my phone) and me having to politely insinuate I was engaged in order to avoid giving the woman my phone number so she could set me up with “a nice policewoman” she knew. In terms of run-ins with the law, this goes down as one of the most enjoyable (and least costly).

(Disrupting class at Chibelo Basic School)

"Zambezi"

Check out this song by Tinashe, a British-Zimbabwean artist:

Meeting the Students

Today was the last day of official orientation. Not that this orientation has been very official, but we’ve finished everything we set out to do. We started early in the week by systematically going over each part of the Kucetekela Foundation, specifically the programs I’ll be responsible for. This will include an active role in the selection process, which has already begun, managing the mentoring and work experience programs and supporting our programs officer in academic monitoring and tutoring of the students. Each day contained a healthy mix of both going over my massive binder over coffee and practical experience around town. For example, one day we discussed the mentoring process, wherein a local community leader is paired with a KF student to provide advice and support throughout their academic experience, and afterwards we interviewed a new mentor and took them to meet their student.

Between training sessions we’ve been pretty busy. With Jamie’s guidance I've been improving my driving skills while exploring the city bit by bit. We’ve enjoyed BBQs, or brais as they’re called here, as well as various other treats including sugar cane and nshima, a millet-based side dish used to scoop up the meats, vegetables or sauces on the plate. We’ve walked around a compound, where much of the city's low income housing is located and where most KF students are drawn from, as well as one of the main markets in the city. For those of you who know my habits, you won’t be surprised to hear I’ve already purchased a knock-off Zambian soccer jersey.

The past two days have been the culmination of orientation: finally meeting the students who are sponsored by the Kucetekela Foundation. After learning about all the ways I would be supporting and interacting with them it was great to actually get to meet them. They are the core of this organization, they’re the reason we’re here, and I hope that knowledge will guide me in all my efforts this year. The students are spread across grades 8 through 12 at three different private schools; Chalo Trust, Leopard’s Hill and Ibex Hill. There are 36 students in total, the majority attending the latter two schools. I was really stuck by two things as I met them: First, they’re not children at all, but rather young adults with confidence, charisma and struggles shared by their peers all over the world. Second, I was amazed at their willingness to accept me into their lives. Jamie has become very close with all of them and they are understandably disappointed he is leaving, yet after only a few minutes together, they were already warm and welcoming. I truly can’t wait to get to know each of them over the next year; they are all incredible kids who have achieved so much already despite many challenges. Each one has a unique personality, outlook and sense of humor, but they all seem to share a sense of motivation and dedication uncommon among their age group. I’m simultaneously excited and pretty nervous that, starting next week, I’m going to be highly involved in their lives- their successes and their struggles. Here’s hoping for more of the former than the latter.

(Jamie and I with the Leopard's Hill KF students)