Again Wednesday August 11, 2010
I get up between 6:30-7:00. Eat breakfast (pb&j, toast, cereal, granola if I can get it, or oatmeal) with coffee, usually just put my tea kettle on my family’s fire to heat the water. Sometimes I do a few chores in the morning and then go to a meeting or work on something. Some days I do chores all day. Sweeping my dirt floor, sweeping my bath shelter and pit latrine, dishes, laundry, fetching water. I usually only cook if I’m home all day and not too busy. I cook lunch more than dinner. If I have bread I eat pb&j, maybe I make pasta or just have like a cup-a-soup and a boiled egg if I have eggs. Or if I’ve been to town and have vegetables sometimes I try stir fry or curry. Sometimes I cook for lunch and then just reheat for dinner, but usually I eat with my family for dinner. It’s just easier not to spend 2 hours cooking and then I get to chat with my host father which is usually great. With my host family I eat nshima usually with cooked leafy green vegetables like rape, Chinese cabbage, or pumpkin leaves, sometimes beans, soya pieces, mushrooms and occasionally chicken. My favorite is ifisashi: pumpkin leaves cooked with pounded groundnuts. It’s like a peanut sauce. So good. My family also helps me heat my bathwater which really helps out with time spent on chores. A hot bucket bath can actually be really nice. After dinner I either tidy up my house or try to get some productive reading, journaling or letter writing done. Then, time for bed around 9pm, sometimes 8:30, sometimes closer to 10pm.
(Sunday 8-15-2010 Ah, I was going to try and give more info about other things I do, but there’s too much going on in Lusaka right now. Too many people I love that I don’t see very often and too many things I want to do. Maybe later.)
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Bits of info
7-31-10
Still have laptop battery, so I’ll type another story or 2.
(Still ignoring that my parents blog about me exists. So I don’t know what you may or may not have read about me there. Still think it’s a little creepy)
So July 29th was my 3 months in the village. Crazy. It has FLOWN by. I finally got 2 pieces of my furniture this week, a bookshelf and a food prep table-no such thing as kitchen counters in huts. Took 3 months but the table is fabulous. Never thought I’d be so happy to have a table. LOVE it. I cook sometimes but not much. Partly because I had to take outside, where I’m borrowing a small table from my family and where there’s fire, everything I wanted to use. Me cooking also = the musungu show. (what’s the white girl have today??) Ah, there a lots of other reasons why I don’t cook, too. Working on that. Pretty pumped to get my dining table too, hopefully this coming week. Also in love with my bookshelf. Now, if my house would just get built. My temporary house is fine, but I’m really excited to have a cement floor, and one which is remotely level. Hopefully by the time I get internet to post this, I’ll have a report on some construction progress. Supposed to happen next week. Now, all I have are some bricks, not even enough for the house. And they have to knock down another small house first, where mine will go. There’s some drama there because it’s currently housing 4 boys who have come here for school, grades 8 & 9, because they don‘t have teachers or something where they‘re from. I’m staying out of that one. I didn’t decided where the house would go or make the plan to keep boys there and then kick them out. I just came here to be a volunteer and hang out in Africa. Not cause drama.
Still have laptop battery, so I’ll type another story or 2.
(Still ignoring that my parents blog about me exists. So I don’t know what you may or may not have read about me there. Still think it’s a little creepy)
So July 29th was my 3 months in the village. Crazy. It has FLOWN by. I finally got 2 pieces of my furniture this week, a bookshelf and a food prep table-no such thing as kitchen counters in huts. Took 3 months but the table is fabulous. Never thought I’d be so happy to have a table. LOVE it. I cook sometimes but not much. Partly because I had to take outside, where I’m borrowing a small table from my family and where there’s fire, everything I wanted to use. Me cooking also = the musungu show. (what’s the white girl have today??) Ah, there a lots of other reasons why I don’t cook, too. Working on that. Pretty pumped to get my dining table too, hopefully this coming week. Also in love with my bookshelf. Now, if my house would just get built. My temporary house is fine, but I’m really excited to have a cement floor, and one which is remotely level. Hopefully by the time I get internet to post this, I’ll have a report on some construction progress. Supposed to happen next week. Now, all I have are some bricks, not even enough for the house. And they have to knock down another small house first, where mine will go. There’s some drama there because it’s currently housing 4 boys who have come here for school, grades 8 & 9, because they don‘t have teachers or something where they‘re from. I’m staying out of that one. I didn’t decided where the house would go or make the plan to keep boys there and then kick them out. I just came here to be a volunteer and hang out in Africa. Not cause drama.
(my temporary house below)
I think I’m the only volunteer waiting on a house to be built. Good thing it’s me and not some others. I’m really patient about it, perhaps too much so, in that I didn’t push for it’s construction early enough. My temporary house is round, a former kitchen/store house. Maybe I don’t mind staying in it because I can’t help but laugh every time my batata (host father) tells me I’m staying in his chicken. Never occurred to me that it might be easy to mix up the words chicken and kitchen, but say them, they‘re close.
People seem to want to know what my daily life looks like, a typical day. Don’t think there’s such a thing as a typical day, not yet anyway. I’ll just try to describe a few things. I get water for washing and bathing from a small stream nearby, but have to carry it uphill back to the house. My batata grows sugar cane, which all Zambians LOVE to eat, especially school kids. Batata tries to sell it but they don’t have money so they come a fetch water and do other chores for him and get paid in sugarcane. So lots of days I don’t have to fetch water, which is nice. Drinking water comes from a pump/bore hole at the school. Too far to carry all the water I need for bathing and laundry. Drinking water gets chlorine then filtered. Chlorine is prob not necessary since it’s from the bore hole and gets filtered and now that I’ve been here a while. But I have so many stomach issues I do it just in case. The chlorine is Clorin, special for drinking water, I think subsidized by USAID, but not for sure.
Ok laptop battery is dying, more next week when I get to electricity!
The Rat Saga
Written Saturday July 31, 2010
Got my laptop out in my hut. Crazy. Decided I’m going to use it until the battery dies, so it’s blog post typing time. It’s been 3 months since I’ve been on a computer. My fingers don’t quite remember what to do.
I’m sitting here with my brand new kitty in my lap. She’s teeny, 7 weeks old and ridiculously adorable. Her name is still tentative so that will be to follow sometime. I’m really excited to have a new kitty companion, and we love each other already. I’ve been awaiting her arrival since day 1 in my hut so she can scare away my rats. i HATE rats. Nshatemwa sana koswe. Nalitemwa sana pushi. I really like cats.
So, perhaps unsurprisingly, I’ve never lived with rats before. Maybe this says something about my life that previously my only rat reference was Templeton from Charlotte’s Web. Now, I have several rat stories:
First night in village, they ate a hole in the side of my watermelon. No big deal, just cut that part off and eat the rest.
Rats make A LOT of noise.
Rats like to use mosquito nets to climb up and down from the roof to the floor. Less than enjoyable when one is sleeping under such a mosquito net.
First trip out of the village (week 2) was largely prompted by my desire to purchase rat poison, and get my packages from the post office of course.
If a rat only eats some poison, and not a lot, then it doesn’t die until it climbs somewhere in my roof. Can’t find those until they start smelling. Awesome. Result #1: Maggots in my house, including one, quite mysteriously as I always keep my mosquito net tucked under the mattress, in my bed. Result #2: Dead rat juice (blood?) dripping from the dead rat in my roof onto the corner of my bed. Wasn’t planning on doing laundry that day. FYI-washing a mosquito net with lots of soap because you’re freaked out about dead rat blood leads to the African bush version of the overflowing suds in the washing machine because the kids put too much soap, a la Brady Bunch. Mosquito net=excellent bubble maker. (One rat did die outside on the ground. Praise Jesus.)
Rats really like groundnuts (peanuts to you in Americaland). The Chief gave me a huge bag of groundnuts when I went to meet him. Sweet, but I couldn’t exactly fit all those in my food buckets. My attempts at keeping the rats from eating them failed miserably. I’ll add a pic if I get a chance. I got real tired of sweeping up groundnuts shells and rat poop. As I was sweeping or listening to the rats crunch groundnut shells, I would think about how they were getting fat and happy on my groundnuts. This inevitably made me sing to myself Templeton’s song about how the fair is a smorgasbord.
So I was left with quite a clever rat. Wouldn’t eat poison groundnuts. Got my tomato one night and ate a big chunk out of it. So I said, ok rat, you eat my tomato, you’re gonna eat poison tomato. Put a bunch of poison on the spot it had eaten. Nope, the rat moved the tomato, turned it over, and ate the other, non-poisoned side.
Got my laptop out in my hut. Crazy. Decided I’m going to use it until the battery dies, so it’s blog post typing time. It’s been 3 months since I’ve been on a computer. My fingers don’t quite remember what to do.
I’m sitting here with my brand new kitty in my lap. She’s teeny, 7 weeks old and ridiculously adorable. Her name is still tentative so that will be to follow sometime. I’m really excited to have a new kitty companion, and we love each other already. I’ve been awaiting her arrival since day 1 in my hut so she can scare away my rats. i HATE rats. Nshatemwa sana koswe. Nalitemwa sana pushi. I really like cats.
So, perhaps unsurprisingly, I’ve never lived with rats before. Maybe this says something about my life that previously my only rat reference was Templeton from Charlotte’s Web. Now, I have several rat stories:
First night in village, they ate a hole in the side of my watermelon. No big deal, just cut that part off and eat the rest.
Rats make A LOT of noise.
Rats like to use mosquito nets to climb up and down from the roof to the floor. Less than enjoyable when one is sleeping under such a mosquito net.
First trip out of the village (week 2) was largely prompted by my desire to purchase rat poison, and get my packages from the post office of course.
If a rat only eats some poison, and not a lot, then it doesn’t die until it climbs somewhere in my roof. Can’t find those until they start smelling. Awesome. Result #1: Maggots in my house, including one, quite mysteriously as I always keep my mosquito net tucked under the mattress, in my bed. Result #2: Dead rat juice (blood?) dripping from the dead rat in my roof onto the corner of my bed. Wasn’t planning on doing laundry that day. FYI-washing a mosquito net with lots of soap because you’re freaked out about dead rat blood leads to the African bush version of the overflowing suds in the washing machine because the kids put too much soap, a la Brady Bunch. Mosquito net=excellent bubble maker. (One rat did die outside on the ground. Praise Jesus.)
Rats really like groundnuts (peanuts to you in Americaland). The Chief gave me a huge bag of groundnuts when I went to meet him. Sweet, but I couldn’t exactly fit all those in my food buckets. My attempts at keeping the rats from eating them failed miserably. I’ll add a pic if I get a chance. I got real tired of sweeping up groundnuts shells and rat poop. As I was sweeping or listening to the rats crunch groundnut shells, I would think about how they were getting fat and happy on my groundnuts. This inevitably made me sing to myself Templeton’s song about how the fair is a smorgasbord.
So I was left with quite a clever rat. Wouldn’t eat poison groundnuts. Got my tomato one night and ate a big chunk out of it. So I said, ok rat, you eat my tomato, you’re gonna eat poison tomato. Put a bunch of poison on the spot it had eaten. Nope, the rat moved the tomato, turned it over, and ate the other, non-poisoned side.
A few days later, I had a rather flexible carrot that I decided wouldn’t be good to eat which I forgot about and left on the floor. Next morning of course found that the rat had gotten it, buy my rat is picky. Didn’t just eat the carrot, peeled it first. When possible, there’s a picture to prove it.
Cross your fingers, now that I have my akapushi (baby cat), I’m done with rats.
alive and lovin' it
May 26, 2010
Ah, sorry about the silence.
I haven’t really had time on an actual computer since I got back form SA. Well, ok, I could’ve made time and spent the money, but there was just too much going on. I think I said this already, but I’ve really enjoyed just being in the moment since I’ve been here. Haven’t been thinking about what I want to say to the masses. I think some volunteers are blogging on their phones but I haven’t felt into that yet. Also now that I’ve waited so long, figured I’d write a long post. Maybe later I’ll post more often via phone. I can check email really easily so I’ll respond, eventually, if you email. Right now I’m typing this on my ipod in my hut. My hope is that I’ll be able to get it on my laptop and then the internet. So if you’re reading this then great! That means it’s not still trapped on my ipod.
Geez there are so many stories now. Where to start? First of all, I love it here. Loving every minute. Well, pretty close anyway. And the 30 mins or so here and there that are stressful, uncomfortable or crazy usually make really good stories later. And there are so many great things, it takes no time to remember and bounce back. J Hmm, I’ll save those crazy stories for later and only tell about how happy I am. And this won’t really tell much about what I’m actually doing or what it’s like here. But maybe in another post. Or if you’re reading my dad’s blog maybe you’re getting that. (I’m not reading it myself).
There are so many things everyday that confirm that I am absolutely supposed to be right here, right no, in THIS village in Zambia, at this time in my life. God put me right here. Still don’t know what the heck I’ll do after, but I feel like I was made for this. I just fit. I know it’s all still new and exciting and I’ll probably have frustrating times, but I’m really pumped for the next 2 years.
Ok, I’ll try to list some examples of why I love it:
I love alone time. I love time to think and process everything. I’m journaling more regularly that I ever have before.
I never get bored. Maybe it’s just my personality. There’s always so many things I could be doing: Reading ag stuff for working, making a dent in my general reading list, journaling, writing letters, attempting to cook, walking to the cell network spot to check email/text, sweeping my dirt floor, laundry in buckets, hauling water, studying language, talking to people about America or anything, actually working on my PC paperwork, designing chitenge clothes in my head while sitting with people taking when I can’t understand, just sitting…see what I mean.
I love the weather. It’s sunny and beautiful everyday now that it’s dry season and it’s not too cold for me at night, not yet anyway. I love the clouds, the sunset behind the trees, twilight, and the full moon.
My village is perfect for me. They’re really excited to learn so many things, most of which I actually know about. It’s really good that they’re so gung-ho because I’m maybe a little too content to just sit and read books. They really motivate me to work for them. So many people want to know me and be my friends that someone comes to see me or takes me to do something everyday.
My village/host family take really good care of me. Maybe the secret to my happiness is that I’m spoiled… They heat my bath water. I eat dinner with them so I hardly cook. (hey, I will, I’m just taking it slow) My pit latrine is built up like a toilet instead of just a hole. That’s actually the key to my happiness. Squatting kills my knees. (sorry if that doesn’t make sense. Pictures someday.)
It’s beautiful here. Hills, trees, little rivers, a small waterfall which supposedly has monkeys, wildflowers, I already said clouds, and super cute kids everywhere I turn.
My fellow PCV friends are so so great. I seem to do well in groups where no one knows anyone when we start and we’re instant friends because we’re thrown together. (study abroad, internships, even sorority) and people who decide to join the peace corps are generally pretty awesome. :)
I love to dance. So do Zambians. And my PCV friends.
I really enjoy Zam-pop.
I like Obama. (so do Zambians. A future post someday on the plethora of Obama merchandise)
I’m a Christian. So are 90% of Zambians/100% of Zambians I’ve met so far. Most Peace Corps Volunteers are not. Zambians frequently ask what church you go to or if you are a Christian. I get to enjoy at least a little bond and understanding there, while many other people are always having to explain why they don’t go to church/pray. (Sorry future volunteer that will replace me if you don’t want to go to church. I’ll try to explain before I leave and you come.)
I’m a Christian. I’m trusting, thanking and praising God all the time here.
I’m here for the whole experience, I don’t have a narrow agenda that might not get fulfilled. I love just getting to live in rural Africa. Visiting me would be my dream trip. Guess that means I’m living the dream. :)
(Aug. 6, 2010:
Glad I typed that when I did. It’s all still true but there were lots of days I wouldn‘t gave written the same post. Had to retype it, from the ipod, but didn’t change it, to preserve how I felt then.)
Ah, sorry about the silence.
I haven’t really had time on an actual computer since I got back form SA. Well, ok, I could’ve made time and spent the money, but there was just too much going on. I think I said this already, but I’ve really enjoyed just being in the moment since I’ve been here. Haven’t been thinking about what I want to say to the masses. I think some volunteers are blogging on their phones but I haven’t felt into that yet. Also now that I’ve waited so long, figured I’d write a long post. Maybe later I’ll post more often via phone. I can check email really easily so I’ll respond, eventually, if you email. Right now I’m typing this on my ipod in my hut. My hope is that I’ll be able to get it on my laptop and then the internet. So if you’re reading this then great! That means it’s not still trapped on my ipod.
Geez there are so many stories now. Where to start? First of all, I love it here. Loving every minute. Well, pretty close anyway. And the 30 mins or so here and there that are stressful, uncomfortable or crazy usually make really good stories later. And there are so many great things, it takes no time to remember and bounce back. J Hmm, I’ll save those crazy stories for later and only tell about how happy I am. And this won’t really tell much about what I’m actually doing or what it’s like here. But maybe in another post. Or if you’re reading my dad’s blog maybe you’re getting that. (I’m not reading it myself).
There are so many things everyday that confirm that I am absolutely supposed to be right here, right no, in THIS village in Zambia, at this time in my life. God put me right here. Still don’t know what the heck I’ll do after, but I feel like I was made for this. I just fit. I know it’s all still new and exciting and I’ll probably have frustrating times, but I’m really pumped for the next 2 years.
Ok, I’ll try to list some examples of why I love it:
I love alone time. I love time to think and process everything. I’m journaling more regularly that I ever have before.
I never get bored. Maybe it’s just my personality. There’s always so many things I could be doing: Reading ag stuff for working, making a dent in my general reading list, journaling, writing letters, attempting to cook, walking to the cell network spot to check email/text, sweeping my dirt floor, laundry in buckets, hauling water, studying language, talking to people about America or anything, actually working on my PC paperwork, designing chitenge clothes in my head while sitting with people taking when I can’t understand, just sitting…see what I mean.
I love the weather. It’s sunny and beautiful everyday now that it’s dry season and it’s not too cold for me at night, not yet anyway. I love the clouds, the sunset behind the trees, twilight, and the full moon.
My village is perfect for me. They’re really excited to learn so many things, most of which I actually know about. It’s really good that they’re so gung-ho because I’m maybe a little too content to just sit and read books. They really motivate me to work for them. So many people want to know me and be my friends that someone comes to see me or takes me to do something everyday.
My village/host family take really good care of me. Maybe the secret to my happiness is that I’m spoiled… They heat my bath water. I eat dinner with them so I hardly cook. (hey, I will, I’m just taking it slow) My pit latrine is built up like a toilet instead of just a hole. That’s actually the key to my happiness. Squatting kills my knees. (sorry if that doesn’t make sense. Pictures someday.)
It’s beautiful here. Hills, trees, little rivers, a small waterfall which supposedly has monkeys, wildflowers, I already said clouds, and super cute kids everywhere I turn.
My fellow PCV friends are so so great. I seem to do well in groups where no one knows anyone when we start and we’re instant friends because we’re thrown together. (study abroad, internships, even sorority) and people who decide to join the peace corps are generally pretty awesome. :)
I love to dance. So do Zambians. And my PCV friends.
I really enjoy Zam-pop.
I like Obama. (so do Zambians. A future post someday on the plethora of Obama merchandise)
I’m a Christian. So are 90% of Zambians/100% of Zambians I’ve met so far. Most Peace Corps Volunteers are not. Zambians frequently ask what church you go to or if you are a Christian. I get to enjoy at least a little bond and understanding there, while many other people are always having to explain why they don’t go to church/pray. (Sorry future volunteer that will replace me if you don’t want to go to church. I’ll try to explain before I leave and you come.)
I’m a Christian. I’m trusting, thanking and praising God all the time here.
I’m here for the whole experience, I don’t have a narrow agenda that might not get fulfilled. I love just getting to live in rural Africa. Visiting me would be my dream trip. Guess that means I’m living the dream. :)
(Aug. 6, 2010:
Glad I typed that when I did. It’s all still true but there were lots of days I wouldn‘t gave written the same post. Had to retype it, from the ipod, but didn’t change it, to preserve how I felt then.)
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