06 October 2008

Finale (or is it!?!)

Ok ok ok, this has been much delayed. But here it is

I don't remember the timeline on all of this, but I'm pretty sure it all happened before I got on the plane back to the US.

We set up a meeting for our local Jatropha (that biodiesel oil-seed producing plant) growers to learn more about how to plant and maintain the seedlings they had in their fields. We invited Peter (that South African organic farmer) to talk to the villagers about it, to be followed by a presentation by Carrie on AIDS and possible future workshops. We put up signs about the event in all the popular spots. Carrie and I were totally shocked to arrive to a crowd of maybe 100, mostly women gathered under the mango trees at the school.

Unfortunately, very few of them came to learn about Jatropha or AIDS. Most were there to talk to the Ministry of Lands' wife (who also owns this shop in Serenje) for some unknown purpose. Lucky for us, she didn't get there till later, so all those people got to hear about growing Jatropha and AIDS. Peter gave a slightly less than stellar presentation in terms of organization (probably just cause the PowerPoint projecter wasn't working... kidding), but I think people got most of their questions answered. As Carrie was talking to them, the Ministry of Lands' wife came and the crowd excitedly flocked to her and started singing something.

After we got back to the hut we tried and succeeded in scoring a ride to Peter's farm. We arrived to see that his house had been totally burnt to hell by lightning. The mud-bricks still were standing for the most part, but were ready to fall over pretty soon. A bunch of Peter's stuff was ruined by the fire and the rain. Maybe thatch roofs aren't the best things in the world. Surprisingly he didn't seem too terribly concerned.

We spent almost all of our time by the river while we were there. It got pretty boring. Fortunately we had a steady supply of drinks and guavas. We got to sleep outside on the sand between rocks by the river. That would have been cool except that Peter was there too. Three is a crowd. Peter also came down with malaria and so was less than active. One neat thing we saw there one morning was wild guinea fowl. We had seen the much larger domesticated variety at Peters and in villages. The wild ones could fly though, so they were more interesting to watch. Unfortunately they make the same annoying sqeaking noises.

Some funny things at the river were the constant anticipation of seeing mysterious and gigantic "river lizards". As we were walking down, we saw weird tracks in the sand. Peter said that they were from the river lizards which were huge. He said they were really common but we never saw any and they sounded impossible. Another funny thing was going out in the boat. We thought it was going to be a nice long trip down the river, but it was actually just a very short stretch that took maybe 2 minutes to traverse. Carrie tried paddling the boat once and almost killed us both.

The best part of the farm was definately getting to milk a cow. Peter let us try one morning. I had read about how to milk, but it's much harder in practice! Carrie and I didn't get much milk out of her, partially cause she needed to have her udder bounced against (after her calf drank some milk and slammed his head into her udder a few time, she let down a lot more milk for Peter's employees) and also because she was a village cow, not a breed like a Holstein or whatever (village cows aren't specialized for milk production and has short teats) Peter was yelling at his workers about not emptying out the milk pail after each cow, and that was pretty terrible and uncomfortable.

Another cool thing was Peter's radio. He has a radio that can communicate with radios around the entire world! I don't understand how the hell it works, since radio waves are pretty low energy and Peter is in the middle of nowhere. He talked to some guy in Italy for a while. Apparently it's a big hobby for some people. They keep a book with cards from all the people around the world they've been in contact with. Very strange. I just picture all these lonely guys calling eachother and talking about their local weather and how clearly the other person is coming through. Anyway, after a couple days on Peter's farm we biked back to Mpelembe.

Carrie and I tried to buy up and pound a lot of icikanda roots so that we could bring back the powder to make icikanda (African Balogna) for friends and family at home. One day we both ate a bit of the pounded (but not dried) icikanda. It tasted pretty bitter. That night, at exactly the same time, we both got terrible stomach aches. They ended up being in proportion and duration to how much each of us had eated of the raw icikanda (mine being much worse cause I ate more). Later Joshua came over to warn us that the icikanda would poison us if we didn't dry it. He asked if we ate any and we lied that we hadn't. If only he told us earlier!

Our soap went missing again. We asked the neighbors if they knew where it went and they said their dog must have eaten it. Really? Why would a dog eat soap? And if it did, wouldn't it be in some sort of pain or discomfort? Hmm.

It got soooo cold during cold season! One morning I checked the thermometer in the garden and it said 36 degrees fahrenheit! I didn't believe Carrie when she complained about the cold in her letters, but it's true, Africa can get really goddamn cold. I think it's because there is so little moisture in the air, so at night when the sun doesn't shine, all the heat radiates away into space with no water vapor to trap it in.

Joshua and some of the village kids asked us if they could pay us to watch our TV. For a long time we couldn't understand what they were saying. Then we finally realized they thought we had a TV because they heard our music sometimes. Our music must sound so radically different than their conception of music, that they thought they were hearing a movie or tv show!

At some point Carrie and I went over to another PCVs site at Chalilo for the area Agriculture Fair. We got there and couldn't locate the volunteer (Alex) at the fair site. We were then told that actually nothing was going to happen the first day cause the musicians weren't there. Alex's site is also where Chief Chitambo IV (the fourth) lives, so we went to check out his "palace". We were really picturing a palace, so after we biked through the gates of silence (with their "NO YELLING" sign) and passed some huts and insakas, we were perplexed. A guard approached us and asked what were were doing there, and we said we wanted to see the palace. He pointed behind us to the completely underwhelming set of huts (ok one had a tv satellite dish). Funny.

A nice guy led us to Alex's house, but apparently he had just left with the wheelbarrow and his demonstration beehive. So we turned right around back to the fairgrounds. We found him and walked back to his hut. While walking my bike I incurred a slash across my foot from the pedal which would later get infected and require antibiotics Argh!

Alex's house and neighbors were soooo radically different than ours. They had a well with a big bucket and a crank to draw up the water. His family often makes him meals and heats up water every day for him for a bath. His neighbors were all really nice and kinda bwaana, so they never beg or steal from him. He, and apparently most volunteers, use laundry detergent to wash their dishes. So toxic!

The next day, the fair did actually happen bit by bit. We got there too early, when almost no one was set up. We waited forever as people trickled in and set up. There weren't many people with stuff to show and it was mostly corn. It was cool seeing the few weird native crops like this spiky orange cucumber-fruit. One family had a handcranked peanut butter mill! Other people had more field crops like peanuts, millet, and sorghum. Some women had some arts and crafts they had made. There was a good bit of buzz about Alex's hive, so he was over there much of the time. We also got huge pieces of Chalilo icikanda (which is the best cause it has the most peanuts). After a while we decided no more interesting exhibits would open up so we biked back home.

Shortly after that trip, we went to visit Laura, another PCV, to attend a village dairy goat workshop. Carrie had been trying for so long to get dairy goats, so we thought that this would be a good opportunity. And we wanted to just hear about goats. Laura had the best site of all. She had a small canal of water flowing right by her house complete with ducks. Her house was all nicely painted inside and she had so much good food from home! She also got radio so we got to listen to a little of what was going on in the world.

The goat workshop was at the house of the family that keeps the goats Laura aquired. The patriarch was this super nice old man who loved to tell stories. He also had a non-funtional fish pond (since Laura is a fish farming volunteer [dry because the woman who "owns" the canal diverted it from the ponds]). A vet from Mkushi came out to talk to the people in Laura's village about the proper care of goats in Zambia. It was pretty long and in Bemba. We understood some of it. During the presentation I sat on the ground with the women (always trying to lead by example about changing gender roles). The women thought that was really funny. After we got to meet the goats a bit, though they weren't exactly "tame". It got sooooo cold in Laura's hut at night. Oh my god. The next morning was spent just trying not to die of hypothermia. After things thawed out a bit we hitched back home (actually Carrie went to Lusaka).

While Carrie was in Lusaka I worked on a new bathing shelter. I designed it so that one could actually stand up and shower for a change. I also tried to make it more wind-proof, but that didn't work out perfectly. It's tall and constructed like a traditional Zambian bathing shelter (out of sticks and tall grass). It's funny how after trying our version of how we want to build things, we ended up going with the Zambian way (chicken house, bathing shelter, chicken laying shelter). The bathing shelter works pretty well, except that it's super difficult to raise up the full drum of water. I tried to counterbalance the weight with a large log, but you really need two people still. I guess Carrie now just stands on a chair to fill it instead of filling it then raising it.

Some final funny things about Zambians. A large number of boys paint their fingernails. When asked why they had no answer. It's especially strange since you wouldn't think nail polish would be readily available in rural villages, and that hardly any women paint their nails. Men who wish to portray themselves as being in high positions not only wear long pointy shoes, but keep their pinkie nails long (not to snort cocaine, trust me). I think they view it as a symbol of not being a farmer or manual laborer, since it would be impractical to have a long pinkie nail and swing a hoe. It's really just kinda silly and gross looking.

Jesus, I have almost another whole blog's worth of stuff to write about our trip to Zanzibar. Hmm. Ok, look forward to an epilogue! Except it won't be anything like an epilogue. It will just be what happened going to and staying in Tanzania. Hakuna matata.

Dad! much belated thanks for the chocolate, cocoa, jam, and brownie mix (even though we burnt half the batch).

Diana! thank you for the coffee! it was much much better than the freeze dried stuff.

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