And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
- Anais Nin




Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Ok, NOW it’s (kind of) like Colorado

So it’s the dry season now, which means the rich, red earth has turned a dusty, terra-cotta brown. The grasses are turning too. And some of the trees. And the air is different – sharper, crisper, more acrid (the dry season is also the burning season); the wind more insistent and less predictable. These days, whenever I go on one of my walks (or, more recently, runs – the all-carbs-all-the-time diet is doing, as our housekeeper was good enough to point out last week, quite a number on my already ample behind, so I thought maybe I oughtta step it up a bit), I return, eyes stinging, with the bitter smell of charred wood (which smells curiously like burnt coffee to me) clinging to my clothes. But I’m enjoying the cool, crisp evenings and the warm, bright days which – excepting the smoke – do remind me of Colorado. Oh, and the flowers! Goodness, they are extraordinary. There are new ones every day, it seems. There’re bougainvillea trees and geraniums (gerania?) and these amazing orange droopy lily-looking things that I can’t for my life find the name of and - get this! - poinsettia bushes (I know! Poinsettia bushes!)! Our street is awash in color: vibrant purples, brilliant fuscias, velvety reds, golden yellows, dazzling pinks, bright oranges, stunning peaches... Kondwani and I take walks sometimes just to look at them. Although usually, within a few minutes, she is fast asleep – perfect pink lips forming a perfect pink heart, her tiny head snuggled against my chest, her little fingers grasping the neckline of my shirt, like she’s afraid if she let’s go, I will too. Oh, if she only knew...

A few of you have sent emails or MySpace messages recently (bless you, by the way – I’m desperately homesick and I miss you all madly so your messages, even if I can’t always reply, do my lonely little heart good) wondering what’s up. The truth is – not much, actually. Most of the time, I’m helping Chris and Amy with the baby (who, I have to say, is pretty much the coolest effing thing EVER) so they can work. And while I worship the hallowed ground the wee one does not yet walk (or even crawl) on, and would happily give a dissertation on her every developmental milestone (she found her hands recently, and we are endlessly fascinated – as is she – by this discovery, and will watch her for hours as she clasps and unclasps them; but then, we watch her sleep, too), her pooping and burping proclivities (for someone so tiny she sure does manage some earth-rattlers), and how her smile is, hands down, the most awe-inspiring wonder in the history of planet earth, I scarcely think that’s what you guys are interested in when you’re asking how it’s going in Africa – even if it is my favorite part.

When I’m not helping to take care of Kondwani, I spend my time (still) trying (unsuccessfully) to secure myself more volunteer work. And writing – although obviously not (insert sheepish grin) my blog. Short stories, though. And film scenes and descriptive paragraphs and whatnot – y’know, “creative” stuff. In fact, I’m supposed to be writing right now (I’m behind on my weekly self-imposed deadline) but, like any good procrastinator, I’ve decided what I really need to be doing right now is something else – so I’m writing my blog!

Anyhoo, so yeah – “how it’s going in Africa.” Much like it’s going for many of you back home, I imagine – there are good days (like any day spent with the baby or driving through the Zambian countryside, for example) and there are not so good days (like when I learn about the unexpected death of an AIDSRelief employee’s young daughter or encounter the bureaucratic obstacles to doing work here – or just miss home). I did get my visa issues worked out (the doctor at St. Francis Mission Hospital got the head of the Zambian Anglican Council – the priest I mentioned in my last blog – to secure me a work permit) so I was able to (finally!) meet up with Chris and Amy in Macha for a quick spell then turn around and travel with them to Mwandi a couple days later. Oh, and we almost died on our way home from Mwandi when BAV’s back right wheel broke off – and I mean literally broke off – and went zooming off into the ditch across the road. I watched it, too, for a good prolly ten or fifteen seconds before I realized it was actually our wheel bouncing merrily along beside us. I mean, I heard the thump and the attendant shrill screech of metal on asphalt, felt the car jerk, and saw Chris’s hands tighten around the steering wheel as he Formula-Oned us safely to a stop on the side of the road; while we were skidding, I even did one of those “Wait, is that…?” trail-off things, my finger pointing limply towards the skipping rubber wheel. But somehow, while it was happening, it never really registered. The really freaky thing, though? It happened at the exact same spot where we’d come upon a fatal accident on our way to Mwandi (a flat-bed lorry had lost the container load it was carrying, careened out of control, flipped over the container and landed upside down in the ditch on the side of the road, completely crushing the cab; unfortunately, by the time we got there, it was too late for the driver, who’d been thrown from the cab and killed instantly). Amy was literally mid-sentence saying, “Y’know, I can see why this is such a dangerous stretch of - ” when our tire flew off. In other words, we were very, very lucky.

Besides that, though, there’s not too much to report. I am, if you can believe it, already halfway through my sixth month here, which has prompted a couple of you to ask if I’m ready to come home. I mentioned the homesick thing, so a part of me wishes I were there already. But I also mentioned my continuing frustration with being unable to secure consistent volunteer work (my visa issues put the kibosh on my trip to Mozambique with Sam, I haven’t been able to coordinate my return to St. Francis with Shelagh, and despite repeated visits to the Lusaka Teachers’ Association and a letter expressing my intent to help out, there seems to be no end to the hoops I must jump through before I can actually do any work for them), so I often feel like I’ve not yet done what I came to Africa to do. Consequently, I’m not quite ready to go (that, and I’m gonna really really reeaally miss Kondwani…).

But then, as a purported person of faith, I should know that the plans we have for ourselves don’t always shake out the way we hope they will or think they ought. And I imagine that, in due time, I’ll come to learn that no matter what I expected I would learn or experience over here, no matter what it was that I had hoped to do, whatever God’s purpose was in bringing me here was perfectly fulfilled.

Oh, and we’re going on safari this weekend! It’s my birthday present from Chris & Amy, which we didn’t get to celebrate in May since we were at Mwandi, and I’m really looking forward to it. Hopefully, I’ll have some cool new pictures to post next week! Until then, lots of love to you all…

PS Some of you have asked about the baby’s name. Kondwani is a Nyanja name (Nyanja is one of the over 70 tribal languages spoken in Zambia - it is also one of the most common). It was given to her by the social workers who picked her up from the hospital where she was abandoned. It means “happiness.” :-)

Picture 1: Bougainvillea and poinsettia bushes on our street
Picture 2: The amazing orange droopy lily-looking things that I can’t for my life find the name of
Picture 3: Me and the wee one at Mwandi
Picture 4: The wee one
Picture 5: BAVs, post-wheel-pop-off; if you look closely you can see how close to a couple inches of steel were sanded off the brake drum during our perilous, wheel-less descent
Picture 6: More bougainvillea (er, I think...)