Packing and Politics

Two years ago I came to Zambia with three books – a French-English dictionary – with lots of cartoon pictures of simple things – like animals and produce; a copy of “The Poisonwood Bible” – considered by many to be one of the definitive novels on Africa; and, “Guns, Germs and Steel” – another widely acclaimed book about humankind and civilization. Now, two years later as I am cleaning out my room and packing my belongings away to return to the United States, I realize that I have not read either book and still have not learned French. So much for my high and mighty goals of being well-read and fluent in French by the time I left Zambia.

I have, on the other hand, accumulated about 40 books (most of which I’ve read) which are now weighing down my trunk which will likely exceed the acceptable limit. After nearly two years in Zambia I am packing up my belongings and saying my goodbyes to friends and colleagues that I’ve made over the past two years.

I’m leaving Zambia at a very interesting time in its relatively short history. In less than two weeks, Zambians will go to the polls for the first time in five years and vote for their next President. I, of course, find this very interesting because of my own former service with the US government, and because of my unabated love for democracy, and all its promises.

Please do not conjure up images of civic debate, townhall meetings, and “get-out-the-vote” drives. Rather, every day the papers are splashed with headlines of the two major candidates slinging handful of mud at each after handful of mud. There is no known candidate debate over the hot topics – rather there are long convoys of cars, trucks, motorcycles with people spilling out everywhere clapping and singing songs about their candidate – who happens to have his face pasted over every vehicle with posters.

To my chagrin, I haven’t followed the candidates very much, nor am I knowledgeable in what they stand for. However, from what I’ve heard from those who are following the election – it sounds like both candidates are crazy, and neither would be good at the job of El Presidente` of Zambia

Even worse, I’m leaving for my travels in Namibia and Mozambique the day before the election occurs, so I won’t be able to experience a Zambian election firsthand (reason being that my work permit expires the day after the election). However, I will be close enough to follow the goings on, and I will be back for a couple day in October to hear all about the goings on.

With that, I’m back to packing books and knick-knacks and things I’ve collected over the past two years. Good lord, where am I going to put all this stuff?

Run Rachel, Run!

Blog fans,

I owe you all a big, profuse apology for neglecting my blog for upwards of six months. For those of you that have contacted me to nudge me to add something on – thank you. It’s very nice to hear that people actually read what I write, even if I think its dribble half the time, I’m glad to know that you like it!

I am pleased to report that I have just completed.... drum roll please…. my first half marathon!! In a momentary lapse of sanity, I decided seven weeks ago that it would be a fun and worthwhile challenge if I trained for a 13.1 miles/21.1 km race. Now, I should let you all know, that before this decision, I had never run any more than 3 miles in a row. There wasn’t much time to lose, I got right into the training regimen and started running as frequently as possible, as much as possible. From buying sneakers online (never trying them on before they arrived in Zambia), to getting blisters in all sorts of places (under a toe nail!) to running my first race ever, I have had a great time of it and am proud to announce that I ran my first race in 2 hours and 15 minutes (my goal was to beat 2hr20min).

Pictures of me running (a truly amusing sight) can be viewed at: http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=llfiqjs.934n8718&x=0&y=-chd1di

(If the link doesn't work, please let me know and I will put some pictures up)

The race was the inaugural marathon/half marathon in Victoria Falls Town – Zimbabwe. Seven of us piled into two cars and drove down for the weekend (four were runners, three supporters.) The race started out on the Zim side of the famous Vic Falls Bridge and crossed over from the Zimbabwe border to the Zambia border. From there we turned back into Zimbabwe and entered the Victoria Falls national park, running alongside the river through the bush, with the bemused baboons as our only spectators. On and on and on it went for 13.1 miles until I crossed the finish line ecstatic, giddy, and completely exhausted. Despite the aches and pains I have today (along with a nasty blister below my toe nail), I am already planning my next long run this weekend and am hoping to be in shape enough to run the Thanksgiving Day Half Marathon in Atlanta! Any takers?

Besides my new found fondness for running, there is not much to report from my end. For those of you keeping track, yes, my time here in Zambia is almost at an end. I have purchased my ticket home and will be arriving stateside on Oct 27 for good… for now. I will be based in Atlanta, working for my current employer while I consider what else is out there for me. (My race number was ‘202’ – which I took immediately to be an omen of my return to DC).

I am also pleased to report that in just over 3 weeks time, I will be taking off for a final tour of Southern Africa – a couple weeks in Namibia and a couple weeks in Mozambique. Between the red dunes of Soussuvlei, Namibia and the world-famous scuba diving of Mozambique, I know that I will have a great deal to email y’all and hope that you will all keep up to date with my traveling adventures (as long as I keep them up to date with you.)

I hope this blog finds you all healthy and happy. I am VERY excited to see many of you when I return to the states, and if I don’t happen to be in your town soon, I look forward to hearing your voices over the phone.

Take care and keep well
Rachel

Yodeling on Kilimanjaro

Prologue

Hello blogfans!

I have just returned from my ascent of Mt. Kilimanjaro and am quite pleased to inform you all that I reached the summit of Africa’s tallest mountain. Known as the ‘roof top of Africa’, Kilimanjaro stands at 5,895 meters (approx 19,000 feet) high and is rather difficult to get to. Oh no, this was not a ‘hop, skip and a jump up the hill, day in the park’ type hike – Nay, this was a TREK. Yes friends, I am now a treker – and not the type that flashes that “live long and prosper” hand sign, or worships Captain James T. Kirk in any freakishly unnatural way. Rather, this was a 5 night, 6 day camping experience (which, if you know me well, realize that this is not my usually sought out form of fun or entertainment). This was a challenging and difficult but highly rewarding adventure that left me gasping for air and asking myself, “Why can’t I feel my fingers or toes?”

Pics can be viewed at the following website:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=hdg1icx.4lyuel01&x=1&y=r5cd07

Ps - readers beware, this is my longest blog yet. Reading this may take as long as my 6 day trek.

Pole pole (it rhymes with guacamole)

Let’s start from the beginning. Brett and I traveled with a fantastic group of nine other hikers with the intent of reach Uhuru Peak (the summit point of Kili). For the eleven hikers in total, we had 36 various guides and cooks and porters to make sure that we went up the right trail, our tents were pitched when we got to camp, our food was hot and that our big bags were carried all the way. (Wait, you didn’t think that I carried my own pack up to the top did you? No way Jose! I’m not going to climb the largest mountain in Africa lugging my own 15kg backpack on my back! Puhhhlease)

So, with all our bags, tents and food taken care of – the only thing that we hikers had to do was walk. Up hill. Approximately 4,000 meters in five days. Easy enough, right? Right. Taking our tour coordinator’s advice to heart, I swore to myself that I would only think of the trek in terms of what leg of the hike our group was accomplishing on each day. I found it too overwhelming, and frankly – frightening, to think of the summit as the lone goal. It’s huge and intimidating. It’s not a pointy little peak – it’s a huge volcanic crater that has glaciers on its top. It’s ancient and big and cold, and I realize that I am too small in the scheme of nature to consider myself anything but a flea on this giant mountain. And that is why I didn’t consider the peak until summit day. Before then, I put all my thought into getting to our daily destination.

There are several routes that hikers take in climbing Kili; we climbed the Rongai route. The Rongai route originates on the eastern side of the mountain at an altitude of 1,950 meters. Our inaugural walk starting at the park gate led us through cultivated maize farms followed by rain forest. It truly is amazing to be walking through different climate zones within an hour or two and to see how the nature of the landscape changes with each step you take. For our first day we walked for 4 hours and slept for the night at approximately 2,600 meters (several people on our trip had watches that stated the altitude at which we were at, of courses none of the devices matched each other, usually off by several hundred meters, and so we really had little idea what our exact altitude was, just a general idea). For four days we steadily ascended the mountain to the base of the summit. Little by little. The motto of our guide was “Pole pole” (pronounced Pol-ay) – a Swahili term meaning “slowly slowly”. This meant that we walked slowly slowly every day, every part of the trek, for every step that we took. Sometimes it felt so slow that if we went any slower we would be going backwards. However, it was this sage advice and leadership that helped all 11 hikers in our group reach the summit because of our ever-slow, ascent up the mountain.

Over the next three days we slowly ascended higher and higher until we finally found ourselves on Wednesday afternoon at the base of the summit at Kibo Huts, approximately 4,700 meters above sea level. (Note to readers: the oxygen begins to thin at 3,600 meters – where we slept at day 2. From the point forward, it’s increasingly difficult to breath and people begin to experience altitude sickness with symptoms such as nausea, headaches, irritability, coughing because of water in the lungs and in very serious cases people develop cerebral edema and pulmonary edema. In the event that one develops any type of edema you get off the mountain as soon as you can – these are life threatening situations. Thankfully a daily dose of Diamox kept me in fine working order to the very tip top of that mountain with my only symptom being something that I have now come to define as “altitude insanity”.)

On Wednesday afternoon we find ourselves at the base of the Big Kahuna. Tonight we begin the summit attempt. After a late lunch, we’re instructed to nap until our early dinner, which is fine, because there is little to do up here. The oxygen is thin, there is little to see or do. We’ve just finished crossing the “alpine desert” to get here and we’re exhausted. Our dinner of potato stew, toast, and other carbs comes early and after a quick briefing from Obote (our head guide) we are off to sleep for 5 hours before our midnight departure for the top. The porters wake us all up at 11pm for our final meal before the climb and by midnight we are all in our multitude of layers (me: t-shirt, thermal underwear, long sleeve shirt, fleece vest, heavy duvet jacket and windbreaker – and that’s just for my top half!). Somehow, with my gloves on (the size of industrial strength oven mitts) I manage to pop my Ipod into my ears, get my head torch in place, strap my walking poles on, and we start off at 12:15am.

In single file procession Obote leads the 11 of us, along with 3 assistant guides, up the steepest part of the mountain. Because it’s pitch black we each wear a head flashlight to guide our steps. Because it’s so high up and so cold we barely speak. As we start off, I cannot see the actual mountain, but the lights of all the other climbers illuminate their progress and I know it’s there, if only by the location of their headlights. This is truly the most surreal experience – single file lines of other hikers, all attempting the summit in the middle of the night. If this were a movie I would suppose that all the people were marching towards the mountain top to meet the space ship that would haul us all off to go to Planet Zorp. Really, this is the most bizarre spectacle I’ve ever seen - scores of people attempting to reach Uhuru peak in the night, only visible by the lights coming from their heads. From the beginning of the summit attempt people are already coming down because of altitude sickness.

In this walk I become super-conscious of my body; of it’s every function, every step. Am I breathing ok? Yes. Do I have a head ache? No. Am I nauseous? Don’t think so. Why can’t I feel my fingers and toes? Eh, doesn’t matter, they aren’t necessary for my survival. With these questions running through my head on a repeat loop, I’m listening to music on my Ipod to help me stay motivated in getting up there. Not only is this process strenuous on your body, but it’s also cold and dark and lonely and I needed music to keep me going. Listening to my Ipod helped me stay focused and give me a little rhythm to the walk. Every now and then I’d do a little boogie dance to the beat of a good song. So yes, I feel that it is fair to say that I did partially booty-shake my way up the mountain to some pretty good tunes.

By 5:30am the first signs of daylight are peaking over the horizon. Because we are attempting the summit from the east we are fortunate enough to see a stunning sunrise and never in my life have I ever been so happy to see the sun, nor feel the certain warmth that comes with it. Sometime before 7:00 we reach Gilman’s Point – a point on the mountain with some significance – I know this because there is a battered sign to welcome us there. At approximately 5,700 meter, Gilman’s point is the first time on the mountain that we can view the crater from the rim. We are at the top of the mountain, but not yet the highest point. Many people stop at this point and go no further that Gilman’s because of altitude sickness. From here to Uhuru point it’s only another 200 meters ascent, but a two hour walk around the rim to reach it. With barely a rest at Gilman’s point our group sets off for Uhuru.

For the next two hours my goal is just to get there. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot, repeat, again, and again, and again. Still going pole pole we make the trek from Gilman’s to Uhuru in approximately two hours. We are walking on the rim with a huge volcanic crater on my right and the slope of the mountain (that I just climbed) on my left. A few remaining glaciers are hanging on to the mountain for dear life – estimated to be melted within the next 10 years at the current rate of climate increase. These glaciers are stunning and huge. I can’t contemplate them for too long because we just gotta keep moving. I’m losing patience and feeling desperate. I just want to be there. Just get me there so I can start going down again.

Finally we see the sign that says we are at Uhuru peak, the highest point in Africa, 5, 895 meters. Our group is ecstatic and exhausted. It’s 9:15am. We’ve been walking steadily for 9 hours. For the next fifteen minutes we take it all in, line up for pictures under the sign, pose, smile, hug, and just know that we all made it to the top. Within 15 minutes we have all started our descent off the mountain back to places where we can breathe normally. The descent is much easier on the body, with every step I take I can feel air coming back into my lungs. It’s instant and amazing. For the 9 hours that it took us to climb 1,200 meters, it takes me approximately 3 hours to get back down. In daylight the summit is huge and dusty, and it’s nearly impossible to believe that just a few hours ago it was a completely invisible beast in pitch black and we were all silently creeping up its winding scree paths.

After we reach Kibo Huts we sleep for an hour, have lunch and then are off to our next camp site. It’s another three hour hike, taking us gradually lower and lower until we reach the camp for that night at 3,600 meters. The air is good, I can breathe deeply, everyone is in good, but exhausted, spirits.

We finish the trek by the afternoon of the next day. Thankfully the shop just outside of the park gate sells beer and everyone in our group is having our first “Kilimanjaro” beer since we started out 6 days earlier. After three sips I’m completely tipsy and have a big dopey grin on my face. I just climbed a mountain. And a pretty damn big one at that!

For the next three days walking and movement in general was a struggle. My legs and knees are especially sore and it take a 60 minute massage from a very large Tanzanian woman named Flora to help put my legs back in partial working order. Brett and I slowly make our way back to Nairobi over a few days, relaxing in different lodges, enjoying the last remnants of vacation.

Epilogue - I ground an airplane
By the time we are set to fly out of Nairobi, I have developed a nasty head cold and an ominous case of the diarrhea. Brett and I have both run out of clean clothes and are beginning to smell, I'm really looking forward to getting back home and sleeping in my own bed. As we board our plane to Lusaka in Nairobi (from the rear), I happen to notice a sizable rip in the underbelly of the wing. Having the wherewithall to know that is not supposed to be there, I nudge Brett and show him. He tells the flight attendant. The flight attendant tells the captain and the engineers. Twenty minutes later the captain tells us the plane has been grounded because a vehicle passed under the wing and ripped part of it up and we can't use the plane. Big sigh of relief. Glad I noticed that, glad Brett told the flight attendant (cause we're not really sure if someone would have noticed before take-off). So, I'm proud to say that not only have I climbed the tallest mountain in Africa, but I've also grounded a plane (actually Brett and I grounded a plane. he played an important part.)

That's it blog readers! If you made it this far you should receive an award for your patience and ability to read my ramblings.

Cheers until next time,
Your lady in Africa

Appreciation and Depreciation

Appreciation and Depreciation

Hi blog fans,

It’s the height of the rainy season here in Zambia and I am pleased to report (based on being in Zambia for two wet seasons now, and reports from Zambians) that we are having a good, wet, so-stormy-that-the-dirt-roads-are-completely-muddy-and-I-slip-in-them-when-I-walk-to-work rainy season. This is worth taking note of as many other parts of Africa are facing a drought that will likely take millions of lives. While Kenya and other east African countries are reporting consecutive multiple years of low rain, dying animal herds, fewer water sources and extreme malnutrition, Zambia is experiencing growing maize, bountiful fruit and vegetable harvests, a never-ending downpour, and the occasional power outage because of all the foul weather.

Almost every day there are reports on various new outlets of increasingly desperate humanitarian conditions for people living in Niger and Kenya, just to name two countries (I always like to go to the BBC – check it out at http://news.bbc.co.uk) . As much as I hate to preach, please allow me one minute to climb up on my soap box and ask that everyone take a moment to learn more about what is going on in these countries and consider how you may be able to make a difference. Whether it’s a monetary donation to a charity organization or increasing your awareness about the crisis, I would just ask that you do something. Ok, stepping off of soap box now.

That being said, my dollar ain’t goin’ half as far as it used to. In the past couple months, the Kwacha to Dollar ratio has plummeted from 5,000 Kwacha/dollar to approximately 3,200ZMK to the USD. Now, it may not seem that bad (hell, it’ still cheap), but, my dollar is now only going 60% as far as it used to. All of a sudden, a movie that used to cost approximately $4 (20,000 kwacha THEN) is now $7 (20,000 kwacha NOW). Rumor has it that the dollar is going to sink even further, to a 2,500 ZMK to the USD level, maybe even 2,000ZMK to the dollar. If that happens, please feel bad for your friend Rachel and do whatever you can to make the dollar strong again. And ask your friends to do the same. My buck needs to go a just a bit further!

Ok, the power is back on at the site and I’m now going to post this mini-blog

Signing off from rain-drenched Lusaka
RJB

A New Year, A New Blog

Hello bloggerinas,

I hope the post-holiday season finds you all health and happy, well-fed (but not so well-fed that your clothes don’t fit anymore) and well-gifted. I am back in Lusaka after a whirlwind month of traveling from the States, back to Zambia, to Rwanda and to South Africa. But, before we can say ‘Hello 2006’ let’s say ‘Au Revoir 2005’…….

Bonjour Rwanda!
In mid-December I ventured to Rwanda for a week of serious working with my counterparts at our HIV research project in Kigali, the Rwandan capital. Not only did I get a chance to improve my pathetic French, but I also got to drink delicious beers, dip my fries in mayonnaise, instead of ketchup (can you believe it? It’s good!) and visit a beautiful country whose people are rebuilding their lives and livelihoods after one of the late 20th centuries most gruesome humanitarian episodes. Kigali is a bustling city whose spotlessly rubbish-free red dirt roads, motorcycle taxis and never ending hills make it one of the nicest African cities that I have seen to date. (Admittedly, I haven’t seen that many, but Kigali is that remarkable that I’ll wager that it’s up there on most people’s lists). Truly, Rwanda lives up to its name as the ‘Country of a thousand hills’ (Les milles colines) as it is just one rolling green hill after another. It’s quite different from the flat, flat, flat land of Lusaka.

Despite my intense work week in Kigali, I did get out one afternoon to visit the Genocide Memorial museum, which I must say was a powerful and extremely interesting and somber memorial to those killed during the spring months of 1994. It’s very difficult to find yourself in the midst of an active and friendly city like Kigali and not pause to think about the genocide. I tried not to spend too much time thinking about it, but it was hard. Despite all of that, I would very much like to go back for either work or for travel.

Goodbye 2005, Hello 2006!
After Rwanda is was right back to Lusaka for an awesome Hanukah and Christmas celebration (as they both fell on the same day this year) with Nancy and 19 other people. We made a turkey, latkes, a couple hams and so many other side dishes it’s difficult to recount it all. After that, a few days at work and then Brett and I jaunted off to Cape Town to celebrate the New Year and take in the sun, sand and shops of my favorite South African destination!

In a span of two and a half days we went wine tasting in Franchshoek (a 300 year old French Hugenot settlement and fantastic wines!), climbed Table Mountain (on New Year’s Day, no less!), hit the beach, hit the shops, ate fresh fish, welcomed in 2006 and relaxed at our lovely guesthouse nestled at the base of Table Mountain. All in all, a lovely, relaxing, not-nearly-long enough vacation.

And now, we’re going on three weeks in on the new year and I’m T-minus one month till I leave for my Kilimanjaro climb (just bought socks and wooly hat from REI), woefully out of shape and sore from all the different thigh and butt exercises I’ve been trying out. With that, I’m going to sign off. I realize, that this is one of my shorter blogs, but my new resolution for the new year is to write more frequently, but shorter blogs.

Hope this blog finds you all well my little bloggerinas,
Happy and healthy new year to you all
Cheers,
Rachel

Where has the time gone?

Hello Blog Fans!

It’s been a long time, nay, too long, since my last blog. Many, many apologies to my readers, some of whom are irked at my lack of blogginess. I hope this blog will satisfy your interest in all things Zambian.

One year ago today…..

I found myself in a remote and far corner of Zambia, residing in a small guest house in the town of Ndola watching the returns for the US presidential election rolling in and finding out that I despise the state of Ohio. Why, oh why, oh why-o did we ever have Ohio? On the other hand, I had just started out on a one year project that would keep me out of the states for at least 25% of the second Bush term. Silver lining! Now, just one year later I’m watching disgrace after misstep plague the president’s second term in office to which I say “Huzzah! More silver lining!”

So, you might be asking yourselves, what have I been up to for the past few months? Here goes…..


Blonds *DO* have more fun!
It’s been such a long time since my last blog that I must take a moment to update y’all on some of the big changes in my life. First, I got blond highlights during a business trip to Johannesburg. Second, I moved to Lusaka last month. Third, I got a car. In that order: I had an opportunity to travel for work in late August, just days shy of my 28th birthday (oh yeah, I turned 28. Really, the first birthday I’ve ever had that on the day of – I actually felt older. Reallly older. Like, wow, I’m almost 30-older. Not a pleasant feeling when you’ve been a 20-something for so long!). On the morning that me and my colleagues were set to return to Zambia, we found that we had 4 hours to kill before needing to be at the airport and we took the rare opportunity to spend some of our hard earned kwacha at the big mall “Sandton City” in Joburg. Now, I have never been a mall fan one day of my life (all 28 years of it) however, the site of the grandiose, lavish and overly-consumptive, South-Coast-Plaza-esque mall just sent my under-consumed heart a-pitter-patter. Oh yes, if there has ever been any doubt that I am not my mother’s daughter, friends, lay all doubt aside – it’s true, I have finally come into my genetic destiny – I shop like a mad fiend and can put you all to shame. There. I’ve said it. While some of you may see this as a challenge – a shop-off of sorts, please don’t think I’m threatening here, I’m just saying that being out of the consumptive life style for a year does NOT put me on the bench. No, no, no! Rather, I’d argue that I’m just as fit and ready to power shop as any of you ladies (and gents!). So, with much VISA glee I spread the South African Rand left and right as I purchased enough clothes, hair stuff, and jewelry to satisfy my year of having been totally deprived of shopping opportunities. It was fantastic, gave me such a rush. What is it about spending money on one’s self that is so gratifying?



Lusaka A-go-go
Item number 2 on my list of exciting things to fill y’all up on – I *finally* moved to Lusaka! (Of course, as luck would have it, the month before I move to the big city I meet a lovely, charming, overall great Aussie gentleman that I now call my boyfriend. I could take the next few paragraphs to bitch and moan about the general lousy timing of it all – “why didn’t we meet sooner” “why just at the end of my stint in Kitwe” – but I am not one to gripe. Rather, I’ll say this - Brett (said Aussie’s name) and I are pursuing a Zamromance relationship from Kitwe to Lusaka. For more details on said boyfriend do drop me an email at rjblacher@gmail.com. All appropriate details will be disclosed.)

So, back to me. I moved to Lusaka at the very beginning of October to find myself immediately immersed in my new job which is to help set up/coordinate the clinical research trial that I have been working on in the Copperbelt for the past year. Which, I can now say with certainty that I love. Yes, I’m not sure if it’s the anal-retentive person in me, or the idea of getting to organize loads of different details, but I really enjoy the logistics of establishing this clinical research trial. I am without a doubt very excited for the next year in Lusaka.

Sunny and Me
Finally, Item number 3 – I bought a car a couple weeks ago, and oh my, has the quality of my life improved drastically. Sunny is my 1997 Nissan 4-door sedan (also called a Nissan Sunny) which also was a taxi cab for some years. Perhaps now is a good time to provide y’all with some ideas about what the car situation is like in Zambia. Only the very very very wealthy can afford new cars. In other words – new cars are rarely sold in Zambia. Japan has a program where they old cars (Mitsubishi and Nissan) for cheap. Most expatriates will drive big SUV cars but nothing too new – most cars are from 2000 and earlier.

The story behind my Sunny is that it was brought over by a man who owns the biggest taxi company in Lusaka (in fact, it has a “dial a cab” sticker on the back – adds to the charm of it all). His wife worked at the International School of Lusaka, where one of the expats bought it from him. In turn she sold it to another expat who just got a job in Angola and lucky for me I heard about it in time and got a hold of it for myself!!! Now, Lusaka is not such a huge city, but, I cannot emphasize enough how nice it is to be able to tool myself around and not really on taxis, minibus’s, and the kindness of friends.

As I am writing this blog on the flight between Atlanta and Los Angeles to begin my much-needed home leave (been 14 months since my last visit to the West Coast and 13 months since being in the states), I realize that all is going quite well in my Zamlife. Work is great, colleagues at the site are fantastic (a quick shout out to all my fellow ZEHRP-ies - Laura – is this good enough of a mention?), there is romance in Zamland and I’ve got a car and blond highlights. Really, could it get much better? I doubt it.


November 5th is Guy Fox Day
Another strange tradition that I recently encountered in Zambia is “Guy Fox Day”. Now, unless you are a Brit reading this blog, you probably have no idea who Guy Fox was and why we celebrate him. As far as I could figure it out from the BBC World News Radio Service, Guy Fox was a Catholic dissenter when Protestant King James I was on the thrown (James was the Protestant, right? If James was the Catholic then Guy was the Protestant, I can never figure it out). Anyways, Mr. Fox and his co-conspirators did not like the new Protestant King and on November 5, 1605 plotted to kill him when he was in the House of Parliament using several barrels of gun powder to kindle and explode Parliament. Sadly for Mr. Fox, his co-conspirators ratted him out and the rouse was discovered before King James I could be blown to bits. For his punishment, Guy Fox was tortured and then quartered. Now, for some reason that I still can’t quite figure out Zambia (a country that prides itself on being independent from it’s long time rulers, the Brits), along with the UK, (and every other formerly British country?) celebrate this day by having huge fireworks shows, lighting bonfires and in some cases make an effigy of Guy Fox and quarter him up. I’m not sure if these people use horses or just over-ambitious children, but either way, I think it’s odd.

I celebrated my first Guy Fox day in Kitwe this year with a mediocre firework show (high quality for Zamstandards, total bubkas for this girl who has seen the DC 4th of July fireworks display from the White House lawn and the Rose Bowl fireworks many many years in a row – but who’s comparing? Not me. Wouldn’t be fair.) I had a great time as Brett and I watched the fireworks, ate burgers, and guzzled some beers. Another lovely night in Kitwe.

So my friends, as always, if you’ve made it this far I commend you for your patience. We are soon to land in LAX and I am going to see my home for the first time in way too long. I look forward to calling as many of you as possible while I am home (in LA till Nov 28) and will then be in Atlanta till Dec 1 when I get back on the big bird destined for Lusaka. I am looking forward to some much needed American football, Mexican food and a heavy dose of California culture.

A happy Thanksgiving to you all,
Rachel

Traveling in Zambia

Howdy readers,

I thought that for today's blog I would devote some time to describe some of my recent travels, highlighting especially the absurd and amusing things that happen on the way.

Please Remove Your Seatbelts

I recently flew to Johannesburg from Ndola for a one day meeting for our clinical research trial. Before we took off from 'Ndola International Airport' (worst Duty Free I've ever had the pleasure of shopping!) the pilot informed us that because of the diesel shortage in Zambia right now, we would have to land in Lusaka to refuel before proceeding to Joburg. Thirty minutes later we touch down in Lusaka to top off the tank. However, before the refuel begins, the flight attendant gets on the speaker and asks that we all take off our seat belts. I find this curious, because flight attendants are usually asking us to put our seat belts on, not take them off. I joke to my friend sitting next to me that they've probably asked us to do this because in case the refuel goes bad, they would try and get us all off the plane in time... (assuming that we would have time to squish 40 people off of a tiny jet plane). I laugh at my own sarcastic interpretation of this message, thinking "oooh, I am soooooo smart!".

As the flight attendant comes down the aisle, I ask her, "Why are we supposed to take off our seat belts?" to which she responds sweetly "In case there is a fire with the refuel tank and we need to evacuate the plane", with a smile at the end... Good lord - if the refuel goes bad there's no way in hell that we are all getting off the plane. In my opinion, it makes no difference if our seat belts are off or tied in a triple knot around my ankles, if the fuel up goes haywire we're all goners.... I am dumbstruck and look to my traveling companion who is equally befuddled.... However, for some reason, I find humor here, as if the the airline is trying to make us as prepared as possible, but really, what are the chances we'd all make it off? Nil.

Sigh, after all the the refuel went on just fine and we made it Joburg with nary an incident.

Nigerian Cinema

The buses that I take from Kitwe to Lusaka are usually in pretty decent shape. The seats are cushioned, there are TVs and there are polyester curtains on the windows that open up (with much effort). Now, the four and a half - five hour bus drive from Kitwe to Lusaka, or the other way around, generally allows for two movies to be shown. Mind you, the movie may be playing, but there's so much other noise that you can't hear a word spoken. Anyways, usually we get such gems as "Predator" (a rather gubernatorial flick - two body builders turned actors turned governors are in that movie) or "Con Air" for the first movie, then for the second movie we usually get some Nigerian movies that are.... ummm..... er..... interesting?

Now, perhaps my Hollywood born-and-bred bias is about to shine through, but I cannot imagine a worse means of torture than to make someone watch two to three hours of Nigerian movies. As it so happens, I've ridden the bus so many times (or perhaps the movie selection is so small), that I am now at the point where I'm beginning to see some of the same movies twice. In fact, I recently resaw "Police Officer" - a Nigerian comedy(?) that takes some of the slapstick humor of "Police Academy 1 - 5" and mixes it with some of the nitty-gritty urban lifestyles of a more dramatic feature such as anything starring Ice-T and taking place in East L.A. resulting in a truly bizarre comedy-drama that makes no pretenses of making sense (or perhaps it's that I can't hear the dialogue over the shrieking baby and the melodic tune of the buses horn as we pass oil tankers at an astonishing speed on the wrong side of the road. But I digress.)

Anyways, the movies are always interesting on the bus. And, for some reason, there are bumper stickers on the TV (below the screen) that read "Eat Bertha's Mussels" - now, call me crazy, but isn't that from a restaurant in New England? And, on the back of the buses there reads hilarious modern American vernacular messages like "Don't hate the playa', hate the game" - as if for some reason the bus is really "in the game". It's these curiousities that never cease to make me laugh, shake my head in disbelief and chalk it up to a cultural experience in another country.

And with that, I bid y'all adieu!
Happy Sunday
Rachel

The Great Mama Comes to Africa

Howdy readers!

I would like to set the stage for today's blog - earlier this month my dear mother decided that it was time to venture to Africa to visit her dear, and only, child. Prior to her arrival I had no idea how my mum would view Africa, how she would take it in. So, with some trepidation, and a great deal of excited anticipation, I met up with my mum in Victoria Falls Town, Zimbabwe......

Mum and I met up at the luxurious and historical "Victoria Falls Hotel" overlooking the spray rising up from Vic Falls, lingering in the horizon. This hotel is incredibly lush with gardens and verandas and loads of staff to take care of your every need. I haven't traveled this nice since.... ever!!! Wow, it's great to have mum here to treat me to such nice things like a hot shower, clean beds, warm food! Backpackin' aint ever gonna be the same.

On our first night in Vic Falls Town while mum and I waited to be picked up for our 'Sundowner's Cruise' (aka, the Booze Cruise) she was looking into the parking lot of our hotel when she nudges me and says "Rachel, that dog has a back problem." I peer into the distance, "Mom, that's not a dog, that's a baboon." To which mum shrieks "WHAT???? A monkey???" Me: "No mum, a baboon. Totally different animals." Mom: “Oh.” (Note to readers, in Vic Falls Town and throughout the Vic Falls park on both the Zim and Zam sides there are loads of baboons that wander around aimlessly, take no heed of the humans ooohing and ahhhing at the bold wildlife). So, here we are, sitting outside our hotel and mum spots her first wild animal stalking the parking lot and mistakes it for a dog with a back problem. Funny, no?

I gotta believe that my mother has never seen any ferocious and life threatening animals (let alone, baboons) roaming around in the wild, so I figured her reaction to seeing all these animals would be pretty amusing (at least from my observational standpoint).

The next day mum and I were off to see the falls. We started by touring the Zimbabwe side (lovely) followed by a tour of the Zambia side (much better, in my completely biased opinion). Prior to going to the Zambia side of the falls, we were waiting for our driver to pick us up (who happens to be the same gentleman who picked me up the day before at the airport, and knew that I was going to meet up with my mum whom I hadn't seen in several months). When he comes to fetch us, he walks into the lobby of our hotel and sees me “Ah, hello Rachel!” and sees my mum, whom he had not yet met, and pronounces quite loudly: “Ah! The GREAT MAMA!” Now, of course my mum LOVES that she was just called the ‘great mama’ and for the rest of our trip at intermittent points puffs out her chest, sticks out her chin and with pride announces, “I’m the Great Mama!” to anyone willing to listen. Good lord.

After visiting the falls for a couple days we made our way down to Cape Town for a few days of being uber-tourists! Wow – Cape Town is absolutely fantastic! Beautiful city, located between a gigantic mountain-plateau and the Atlantic Ocean. For three days mum and I toured the town, shopped till we dropped (well actually, I did. Imagine me – haven’t been to a city with a proper mall for over nine months – I went nuts. It was like jumping into a giant ice-cream sundae and eating until I exploded – shopping was great, I am satiated.) Besides shopping (which, NO, wasn’t the highlight of our trip, well, for me it was up there), mum and I went to Table Mountain, Robben Island (where Nelson Mandela was held political prisoner for over 20 years), a 300 year old winery and Kirstenbosch, a lovely botanical garden, and ventured down to the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point. I went to the Southern-most spot of Africa! Wahoo! We were lucky because we had great weather when we were there and I even bumped into a friend of mine from Emory! (Many thanks to Simone and her generous family for having my mum and I for Shabbas dinner, what a treat!!)

The other great thing about Cape Town, that I had been looking forward to for the past months, is the abundance of fresh fish and highly regarded cuisine. My main priority while in Cape Town was to eat my weight in fish, especially sushi! I got my sushi and did eat more than my fair share of tuna, mussels, salmon and many other water dwelling creatures. I’ll have you all know that I am quite a happy fish-filled camper.

Next we were on to Kapama Buffalo Camp, a game reserve near Krueger National Park where we would have the safari portion of our trip. It was a bush-style camp where we stayed in tents – albeit, luxury tents with bathrooms and beds with electric blankets. Our days consisted of waking up at 6am, getting in the Land Rover by 6:30, game drive until 9:00, come back to camp for breakfast, relax until lunch, eat lunch, nap some more until 3:45 when we got back in the Land Rover for our evening game drive, come back by 7:30, dinner at 8:00 and then back to sleep. Basically, for four days we sat in cars, watched animals, slept and ate. And, was it worth it!

Over the four days of our safari, I saw the big 5 (lion, elephant, leopard!, rhino and buffalo). Sadly, mum only saw 4 out of 5, as she happened sit out of the evening game drive where we saw the leopard. On that same fateful game drive I had the opportunity to witness (within 20 meters) a very rare occurrence. At the beginning of our afternoon game drive, we came upon two lions (a brother and sister pair) lolling by a small reservoir of water. As we moved on we noticed five zebras approaching the reservoir for a late afternoon drink of water. As the zebras silently sallied up to the water, the lions started to stalk what would soon be dinner. We turned the Land Rover around and get in to position for the dinner entertainment. Within two minutes the lions were in position and made the attack! Four out of five zebras turned and ran, while the last lady zebra went into the water, thinking that it would provide protection. Now, with one lion facing the zebra on the banks of the water, and the other behind her on the other side, the zebra has nowhere to go except to try and race pass the facing lion and get the hell out of the proverbial Dodge.

Well, the poor zebra’s days, (nay, minutes) were numbered; when she made her move out of the water, trying to dash pass the lioness, she wasn’t quite quick enough and the lioness made her jump. In a blink the male lion was at her side, assisting his sister in bringing down the zebra. For a good ten minutes we watched (at an incredibly close range) the two adolescent lions wrestle, mangle and maul this animal. Now, I know that this is how nature works, and I completely believe in the idea of “survival of the fittest” – but, it was gruesome and I felt kind of bad for the zebra (so did her zebra comrades, as we heard them cry for her out in the bush). However, let me say this – despite my feelings of total nausea and some sentimentality for the zebra (and my momentary ponderings of becoming a vegetarian again)– it was AWESOME to witness this. My photos can not come close to describing how real this was. I’m the first to admit that I have never seen anything like this (not even on the National Geographic channel!) and I will always remember this, it was spectacular.

So, I gotta admit that at first I wasn’t too excited for the safari portion (I figured, I’ve done safari before, really roughing it in tents, without toilets or electric blankets) and thought that luxury safari really wouldn’t compare to my previous trip to the Lower Zambezi National Park. But, after seeing all of the Big 5 (especially witnessing the more ferocious side of nature at work), I conceded, and realized that this trip was just as great, if not better. I can only imagine that mum loved it as well (as she’s already begun speaking of her next visit to Africa; perhaps a safari at the Serengeti?)

I’ve now prattled on for two and a half, single-spaced pages in Word, and can only imagine that a small percentage of those who started reading this document have not nodded off or reached retirement. To those who are still hanging on to the bitter end – hooray! You guys are champs! No, there’s no reward for making it here, except for the warm fuzzy feeling that you will get from knowing my truly awesome trip to South Africa with my Great Mama!

And with that, I am signing off. Lance Armstrong is about to win his 7th Tour de France and I want to focus all of my Sunday afternoon attention to the television. Hope all are well and I am now looking forward to coming home and seeing you all some time around Thanksgiving.

Cheers,
Rachel