The conclusion of the matter

Well a short final post before packing and heading to the airport.

At times like this it is natural to look back and evaluate the trip. Specifically thinking about what I would do differently if I were to ever do it again. The size of my hand luggage was if anything a smidgen too big. So yes you can travel all you like on one hand luggage. The luggage was my home made design and for the most part worked well although my belt was too narrow to be a comfortable strap. That will probably get reworked before I use it again. I'm not much of a swimmer but a number of times on this trip I went swimming. The first time I borrowed some trunks the second I actually bought some used ones in the market. Next time I'll just bring my own. Finally what I really regret is not buying a cheap notebook computer. My main reasons for not doing so in the first place was fear of breakage and theft. Instead I bought an old palm with a folding keyboard. The keyboard quit working after two months so the palm was pretty much worthless. My own computer that had photo editing software that I knew how to use and something I could compose on would have been nice. Oh well not too much of an issue.  Oh yea and I would have thrown some clear packing tape on the back foil of my cough drops since a number have come open and are sticky. Small stuff.


Tonight at 11:30pm I fly to London. I have 4h and 25min layover and then directly to Dallas. I will land in what is being billed as potentially the biggest civil servant strike in 30 years.  British Airways site seemed to indicate that since I don't have to go through security again it should not be an issue........yea, expect me when you see me. Thankfully I don't have to be anywhere at any certain time.


So in a few hours I will finally be down to no keys, no cell phone and no wallet. There's a certain freedom in that. The wallet got horse traded away yesterday sweetening the deal in the curio market. I like to think I got a good deal.


See you on the flip side. Leon

A very big place

Well it's been a good while since I blogged something. In the little more than a week I traveled from Zambia back to Uganda. The trip was done in three segments of 39, 34 and 11 hours.

The first bus trip started at 8am on Wednesday and didn't end till 9:30pm Thursday. Apart from one three-hour wait at a bus stop it was pretty much constant travel. The final destination on that day was Dar es Salaam. I had hoped to get up and see Bill again, who has moved to Arusha, but we didn't really coordinate that properly so it didn't happen. It is probably just as well as the next leg was probably made more easily starting in Dar. Part of my problem was Tanzania requires you to register your cell phone in order to be able to make calls so I could not communicate till mid-morning Friday. An area wide power outage kept me off the internet...I have become so used to instant communications that a little thing like that was unbearably annoying, at least for a little while.

shy hermit crab

The trip took longer than I had expected so I ended up catching up on my sleep and just bumming about town Friday and Saturday. One thought was that I would go to Zanzibar but, Tanzania likes to charge tourists US dollars to get there. I don't have that many dollars and they are a pain to get so I kept my money and went to a local beach. Someone said that the place to go is Oysterbay so I tried to get a bus there. The English language is a distant third option for many Tanzanians so actually getting there proved difficult. Finally I chose a bus that looked like it was going the right direction and told the conductor I wanted to go to the beach. I didn't get Oysterbay but I did get near. Now here is the important thing about travel, when you miss you may get something just as good or better. Where I was put out was at the ferry crossing where there are a very interesting couple of markets. If I'd had room in my luggage I could have picked up some awesome huge shells for Mom. I wasn't sure about US import law also so I didn't even ask the price.....sorry Ma. Just north of the markets the beach starts. There is a faucet on the outside wall of the market where guys were washing their clothes and washing themselves in the ocean. Be prepared for full frontal. Otherwise the beach was mostly mine...on a Saturday morning. There were tons of smaller shells on this beach. Further north storm sewers empty into the ocean and it's not as pleasant. Around this area I went back to the road where I noticed that if you are lucky you can get a

It's a nice tree but it doesn't really fit my landscaping

beach view room in your hospital. Yep, instead of expensive condos there is a hospital. Not everyone missed out on the opportunities to live across from the beach. Even further up was an expensive neighbourhood where at least a dozen ambassadors houses were. One was flying an an American flag but didn't have a sign I could see. I'm not sure what good being across the road from the ocean does when you build such high security walls, but there it was. I ended up walking about 8 miles to get to Oysterbay. If I had realized how far it was I would have gotten a bus but I could see it so I just kept walking.

Oysterbay

I didn't feel secure leaving my stuff on the beach and getting in the ocean so I didn't. That and I really don't like swimming all that much. I brought the stuff with me that I didn't feel comfortable leaving in the hotel room. If you want to swim but didn't come prepared they rent tubes and swimsuits should you feel inclined. I just ate lunch and decided I'd had enough sun. I got to the bus stop and the guy waiting there told me that I should ride the bus he was going to since that was the right one. Before we left I knew he was a politician but I trusted his word and rode with his bus. Never trust a politician. It was not my bus stop when we finally had to all get out. I spent a couple of hours wandering about downtown Dar but could have spent less since I did have the forethought to take a note of  where I really needed to be.

At one point in a quiet area of town I crossed a street and sensed that I was being followed. I headed straight and then sort of slowed and turned and as if lost. I then backed and headed what would have been left. Two of the three guys passed me and then also stopped and came back. I was sort of looking around and then went forward straight in the original direction. As I passed the middle one he reached out and grabbed my right sleeve. "HEEEYY!  don't be grabbing me" is what I said as I swung my fist up and hit him in the forearm. The blow was behind the plane of my back as I was moving away and not very powerful. It was powerful enough, or a show of power enough that he let go. Right then I was passing the other fellow who was on my left. The whole thing happened much faster than it takes to read and I'm still not sure just what all they had in mind. I just kept moving and they left me alone. Around the next corner I stepped into a store and got some ice cream to calm my nerves. A little later some street coffee to put them right over the edge but in a different sort of way.


I left Dar es Salaam at 6am on Sunday on the Taqwa bus line. Yes, you read that right. Their 'Q' is not the weak feeble one we use that has to go about all day with a  'U' crutch, theirs stands up like a proud and noble beast. As you can see I had little to occupy my mind until we stopped for the night at 9pm. Much of the day was spent looking at a country not worth seeing. The land was covered by low scrubby shrubs and looked entirely blighted. For what ever reason the bus company felt it was too dangerous to travel after 9. I was coming down with what turned out to be the flu and spent an uncomfortable night sleeping staying on the bus. I could have gotten a room but felt they were over priced and worried that I would oversleep as I took NyQuiltm. My final destination for the trip was Kigali Rwanda.

Monday the area of Tanzania as we neared Rwanda was much more beautiful. Rwanda itself was gorgeous. Most of the country is rolling hills and is very green. On the whole the people seem to have their act together. Somehow all the houses seemed nicer. The poor still didn't have as nice houses as the rich but they were not as shabby as those in Tanzania. For whatever reason there didn't seem to be any chickens around, just goats. I'm told there are chickens but I didn't see a one.

The reason for the trip to Rwanda, beyond adding two spiffy new stamps to my passport was to visit the Smiths. Kent and Michelle were both classmates of mine in high school. When I planned this trip I had a grand idea to visit as many of my class as possible and call it "one on one-21" because last year we couldn't organize a 20th year class reunion. So far, this is all I have managed to pull off, what with one thing and another.

Smiths

The Smiths have three children. Michelle is a stay at home mom and Kent works with youth sports programs as well as doing dicipleship. I ended up extending my stay by an extra day because of my flu. I wish I could tell you a whole lot more about them but I was pretty miserable while there and somewhat out of it. They were completely gracious and understanding hosts. If you must get sick in Rwanda I'd recommend doing so at the Smiths.

In my continuing quest to encourage you, my gentle readers, to abandon a life of debt I can relate that the Smiths are very much in agreement with me on this issue. Part of our discussion about money had to do with a co-worker of Kent who has back problems whom I'll call Peter.* Peter is one of those incredible Africans that all missionaries dream of. He is a firm believer with a heart for his countrymen who pursues his ministry with conscientious dedication. Kent is truly grateful to have him not as a employee (which he isn't) but as a true co-laborer. Some time ago he began to suffer from numbness and tingling as well as pain in various extremities. As he does not have much wealth Kent has helped pay some of his medical bills. No one he has gone to has been any help. In desperation Peter has sought out anyone who

Rwanda is a rainy place

might bring him relief. Various practitioners always have a high opinion of their services but after a number of treatments Peter is the same as ever. Finally Kent said he didn't want to keep paying for useless services when Peter wanted to try foot pressure point therapy. This naturally upset Peter. If it could help how could you not be willing to pursue it...well because it's not Peter's money that's how. The reality is Rwanda does not have the advanced medical experts that Peter needs and it may be the no one can help. Pray for him wouldn't you?

*Not his real name. I forgot to write it down so calling him Peter is not to protect his innocence but rather a concession to my bone idle laziness in the matter. I think, but am not sure, it was Micheal.

Solwezi

Solwezi is the town that Mom and Dad live in now. When we were growing up it was the end of a string of towns know as the copper belt. Solwezi didn't have copper but it was a provincial (think state) capital and had some, if poor, shopping. Beyond Solwezi you stepped off into bush. The blacktop went another 36km and then on to Mwinilunga. If you were going to Sakeji that was all well and good, but if you were going anywhere else-like most all the places we ever lived-then it was washboards and ruts and painfully slow dusty roads. Now that Mom and Dad have moved into town those roads are paved and only takes 1/3 of the time to travel. Oh well. 

Today Solwezi is a mining town and we have two more up the road towards Mwinilunga. There is talk of two more going in and the ones we have doubling in size within the next few years. Needless to say this has affected life in town just a tad. The other two mines have housing and limited shopping but most everyone comes to Solwezi to shop. Wiki says the town is about 67,000, it serves a much larger community.

Solwezi did at one time have a town plan with nice big lots. Now there is quite a housing shortage. Over time some of those lots have been divided so that there are four houses instead of two between streets.  Somehow no one expected the growth that came with the mines. The town just grew up around the one two-lane road that passes through town. If you need to drive through town right now there is no back way. Most of the neighborhoods you also have to go to the main road and then up to where ever you want, at least if you are driving.  Zambia has different levels of property rights. If you live in tribal lands then you talk to the chief and come to some type of agreement. The other land is leased from the central government, nobody owns land, so the best you can hope for is a 99 year lease. This land can either be obtained by the chief transferring it or it being in town. If you live in town you can also get a plot on city land. Basically what that does is allow you to live there and build. The requirement is that you develop the land and not hold it to speculate. This allows people who are lower or middle class to afford a house and keeps the super rich from holding all the land. You must, however, do some development in three years or the city gets the land back and gives it to someone else. Getting the title deed is your responsibility. All over town people are building houses in advance of the coming rains. They are supposed to get permits and all that but, well, what they don't know won't hurt them, right. It would not take much effort to show you a number of places that people have not built in the right place and since the road has not really been put in except on paper it gets moved. Talking to various people you hear about conflicts between neighbors, that when it gets to court it turns out buildings were built without permits, but often possession is in fact nine tenths of the law, especially if you build with burned rather than mud brick. New roads are being aggressively built and there is talk of a bypass.

The first and pretty much last word for grocery shopping in Solwezi is a South African chain store called Shoprite. Sure there are others shops,  but for what would be analogous to Albertson's or Kroger, Shoprite is it. Someone said that this one has the highest per-store sales of any in Zambia. I believe it. It is always busy. One of the main ways Shoprite differs from any grocery store in America is that the manager plays his choice of music. Most days that means late 80s country music. Some days it's praise and worship music. This is a pretty common phenomenon. If a African hears something they like, they play it. On the radio and in buses the play lists are nowhere near as segmented as you would expect in the US. Commercial television is the same way. When I was in Tanzania I watched a good bit of TV. Lots of the music videos appeared to have been made by someone who had the money to make them staring, them. One hour would be hard core American rap the next local language gospel. With the Christian music everyone was either dressed to the 9s or all the singers had matching outfits. Usually with steps, elaborate steps mind you, but not dancing.

So what, with one thing and another I will have been in town just over two months and Zambia three. What exactly have I been up to? Well I had hoped to do some real work about the place and maybe help people out or something. The main problem was the terms of my visa. Allow me to quote.

VISITOR IS NOT TO ENGAGE IN EMPLOYMENT
PAID OR UNPAID OR IN ANY BUSINESS OF
PROFESSION. NOT ALLOWED TO CHANGE
PURPOSE OF ENTRY WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION

So you can see my problem.....

The Wesslers are a young missionary couple who are also with SIM, Luke attended DTS. I have hung out with them some. They have become involved with a home base care program ministering to HIV patients. Besides teaching and discipleship for both the staff and patients they encourage them in various things that they can do to support themselves. Luke and Tiff are very committed to making sure that everything they do can be self sustaining. Beyond that ministry, Tiff has gotten involved with a woman's Bible study for mine workers' wives. There is a large South African community here in town who work on the mine, mostly as managers and specialists. The mine built housing for their managers and since it was really them doing the building, it's nice. The housing is built on a golf course with a good game fence to hold in the impala, zebra and sable. There is a good restaurant and club with a swimming pool, tennis courts and workout room. Initially many of men left their wives in South Africa but the wives soon figured out that they were kissing their girlfriends goodbye at the airport when they flew south to see them. Now there are lots of wives up here living in Solwezi but there is little to do here. Tiff has found that this community, which is insular to most Zambians, is open to ministry for her.

Many of the miners are at best nominal Christians but there are a few faithful  families. I begged a tour of the mine from one. I could bore you with soluble and insoluble ores but really it's best to just say it was cool to see copper at its beginning after having used the end product for so many years. I've included a picture of the pit-just because. Keep in mind the trucks down there are carrying 150 ton. The only thing they are really going after is copper. As a bonus they have a centrifugal machine that takes out the gold which is a minor part of their profit.

Solwezi does have some culture. There is 'cave' with ancient engraving in the rock. Yep it's pretty much that exciting. Just to make it more interesting I'm including a picture of Mom and Dad. Mom insisted that this would be a great place to take a picture, I think she just wanted to catch her breath.

Dad is involved in teaching in churches. The program that he uses was developed many years ago by various missionaries in Kenya and translated to local languages by our missionaries. Dad leaves teaching in churches here in town to local pastors and drives to out laying churches. Every other Friday he travels to his two furthest out and takes a local pastor with him who teaches at one on the way. Mom has a woman's Bible study she teaches every other month. Some time ago she taught on Elijah and some women wanted her notes. That has turned into a small Kaonde book which is currently in the proof reading stage.

I know this is a dead horse, but it's my dead horse. Needless to say both the Wesslers and Mom and Dad are debt free. The only debt that I'm aware of that the parents have ever had was when they got their first house. It is some indication of how far house prices have come since 1968 that the loan that they had to take on the house was only $2,500. They did have a good down payment.

Termites

NOTE: Blogger has changed how pictures are displayed when you click on them. To see full size first click on the picture then right click and hit view image. This will let you see the full resolution picture.  grrrrrrrr!

This is a blog that I've known I'd write from the beginning of my trip. This topic is actually one of the reasons for this blog. At some point I realized that Americans don't really understand the reality of termites. In the US we occasionally tear into a wall only to find that somewhere in the dark these insidious insects have been eating us out of house and home. Termites are our worst nightmare.

Dad next to an anthill.

In Africa termites, also know as white ants, are ubiquitous. In talking with Charlie about this topic, he said he'd heard that there were 3,000 different species* of white ants in Africa. Where in America they tend to keep to the dark, here their presence is out in the open. A person's daily encounter with them takes various forms. The largest and most in your face is an anthill. For whatever reason in Kenya I saw no anthills at all. As I moved into Uganda a few small scattered anthills began to appear, all of these were low squat things of no more than a few feet in height. Moving south through Tanzania they got somewhat larger. Zambia has the largest by far on this trip. I don't know if I continued south whether they would get bigger or as the temperature dropped they would again shrink in size. Naturally, different types of ants build different styles of anthills. For whatever reason, once they reach a certain size they don't seem to get much bigger. While I was in the bush I asked the Zambians how old they thought that they were. They just groaned and said that they had to be there when the world was created.

Chimney style anthill

Let me limit myself to the most common large type found here for a second. These anthills are as large or larger than a house. They are made by the ants ingesting clay and then carrying it to the build site and depositing-wiggling their heads from side to side- it much the same way a bee might wax for it's comb. For the most part they are solid with voids varying from the size of a fist to the size of a volleyball, in which they appear to farm fungus for food*.

Fungus farm, notice a few peeking out at the bottom

These farms are made of plant material brought from the surface and look 'brain' like. In this farm area there were also a colony of spiders which prey on the termites. They disguise themselves by attaching the bodies of their victims to their back. It would seem that the hill also provides a means of regulating the temperature, which may mean that once it gets to a certain size it need not get any bigger. After the recent rains the ants built an addition which you can see as being rough and is less than two weeks old (see pictures near bottom of the page). Previously there was a small area that always appeared to me slightly moist there. I wondered if there was a small amount of air passing through but never dug into it to investigate. Naturally if we assume that this anthill is hundreds of years old this is not its first colony. Indeed, often there is no apparent activity on the majority of anthills. While in the bush the visibility was often only 100 yards but I was seldom out of sight of at least one anthill, and more normally three were visible at any given time.

A vent down into an anthill. The clay was built loosely here.

On the way out of town they put in a power line and dynamited the tops of anthills to have them out of the way. What were normal mound style have in the intervening years grown chimney style tops. This also suggests that there is a level that for what ever reason they need.

The hills themselves are usually covered with trees. Growing up I always wondered if the tree came first or the other way around. This is not an unreasonable query. At times houses are overrun very rapidly by a mound and in a few years a fair size hill is built. Indeed I have noted a few places in towns that the fairly large, usually chimney style anthill are besides the road. While road maintenance is generally kept to a minimum, the anthills would have been destroyed when they put in the road. The vast majority of anthills are covered with trees and those trees got there after it was built. Not all trees grow at the same rate and some types of trees do seem to favor anthills but generally bush trees mature slowly. It is safe to say that many trees are sixty to eighty years old. Besides the trees that seem to favor anthills, bamboo, cactus and a type of mother-in-law tongue also tend to grow there. The bush bamboo that I'm thinking of was also found along rivers and streams on my recent trip to the bush. Why this was-or even if it was-is something my companions had never given much thought. Upon bringing it up they did indeed agree that bamboo likes to grow on anthills. Dad thinks it will grow on open ground so my theory may be shot. Regardless, the bush bamboo usually only grows in small clumps. Both Carlie and Rob attested to the fact that the outside of anthill are fertile. Rob has cut down a number of them in his field. He says that once you get below the surface they have high sodium. Now I know sodium by itself is an unstable metal that explodes when it comes in contact with water so no doubt it is sodium+something. What I don't know, it could be common salt. The solution is to add gypsum. This will allow water to penetrate and break down the clay in the soil.

Elephant damage

What ever the minerals in the soil, elephants seem to like it. I don't know if the ants intentionally brought up certain minerals or it was in the soil and they brought it up incidentally. As you can see the elephants have dug into this particular anthill. The scouts tell me that there have been no elephants in this area for ten years yet the clay soil is strong enough to not collapse. There were a few anthills in the bush that had been dug out in this way but by no means all. If it was because once started it was easier to continue or not all had what the elephants wanted I just don't have any way of knowing.

Kiln and the anthill it came from.
 Just keep whacking on that sucker, why not!

These large anthills are a valuable commercial resource for the Zambians. In town here there is a housing shortage on. Most everyone with an anthill is using it for the clay to make bricks. Brick making is hard, heavy work which people prefer to do as close to the build site as possible to keep down transport costs. Often in the villages the bricks are never burnt. A house is simply built with mud for mortar and mud bricks. Sometimes, because the only difference between a brick that will last, and one that wouldn't, is building a kiln and burning it a few days, they do that. They still don't have money for mortar, but clay and firewood is locally available so they build with mud mortar and burned bricks. If the roof is not kept up the wall may fall down but the bricks will be reusable. One of the scouts told me enough bricks for a small house could be produced in three weeks by one man full time. For the locally sourced, sustainable crowd everything for a villager's house is available to them from the bush basically for free. However, because of wood-bores and the inferior nature of the local grass the entire roof needs to be replaced every couple of years. Termites also help play a part in the demise of a house, although there are woods they will not eat.

The small style seen throughout the plain

So, I have discussed the large type of anthill. In the open planes especially, there is another type of anthill. These are small round topped columns. The smallest is about five inches in diameter and eight inches tall. Over the years they grow to maybe as much as eighteen inches across and two feet tall. The small ones are especially easy to kick over and if they end up close enough to their colony they will continue to be used with the next year's growth coming out of what was the side. I asked the scouts who, besides me, was knocking over these small anthills. They told me monkeys or baboons.(I don't remember) Our primate cousins have found out that inside of these are white ants which they like to eat, but they are none too bright. Having knocked over an anthill and eaten the panicking ants on the bottom they never take the next logical step of throwing it on the ground and breaking it to get the rest. A few times I did see something had dug into the side of these hills whilst they were still standing and was told it was some type of bird. I don't think this is it's main source of food since I only saw this a hand full of times. These anthills are mostly hollow, with walls forming chambers.

You can see this years new growth.
This took less than a week to add.

Finally, most white ants live in the ground. I don't know if they also live in anthills or they are another type that don't build anthills at all. They build clay shells around sticks and branches as well as tunnels and such up trees. It would be hard to walk across a yard and not find a stick which didn't have the ants protective shell built around it. with most of the native trees they simply eat the dead bark on the outside and leave the live wood alone.

I whacked a chunk into the new growth

So, Africa has termites which would make an American exterminator swoon.  So what? Well, a few obvious whats are you don't build houses with wood and expect it to be there long. There are things you can do with chemicals and types of wood that are better than others. Most houses are built with solid brick walls. Brick here is not a veneer but a structural component. Before colonization most people built houses to keep themselves dry and warm at night and that was about it. The climate is pleasant and cooking was done over wood so a wall-less cooking structure was adequate for living.

White ants repairing their home. There are 3 sizes.
Big gaurds, small gaurds and workers.
This is after 20 min work

Besides you could see who was coming so it was also friendlier. People didn't live in a building once someone died in it and they also moved about a bit* so there was no expectation that a building should be permanent. Even today, land in rural places is for the taking by the people who live there. If you wanted to move to a relatives' village, just find a spot and build your hut. So buildings in the bush are not viewed as a failure if they are not there in ten years. Not that there was any paper but if there had been it too would have been eaten. A number of my parents books have spots chewed out where they had been on a shelf that they didn't notice ants had climbed the back. Sub Sahara Africa has almost no record of its history. How much we would have if we had the same relentless destruction in our libraries who can say. This part of the world never wrote the books because...why bother.

Beyond houses and books the influence of white ants extends to something I have never really heard discussed. Food. Well sure they will eat your stored corn if you let them. What they do to the soil is  probably worse. I don't know what their whole digestive cycle is, but termites do eat a tremendous amount of dead plant material. It is true they do break down some cellulose and move it into the soil. What they do is compete with earthworms for food. Reading one of Rob's agriculture magazines, the writer made a passing comment about it. His comment was that termites carry off much of the nutrients from crops tilled in at the end of the year where as worms incorporate it into the soil and much of the nutrients stay right in the area. What I know for sure is we have very poor soil. Without fertilizer most fields need a few years rest after only three years of crops. With all the tropical growth this ought not be the case.

After a rain they come out at dusk to mate
and start new colonies.
Most are eaten by predators. Some get eaten by people.

So are termites an out of control menace? No. There is balance. The Kaonde have no word for ants in general. Each variety has its own specific name. The most pervasive are what we refer to as "crumb ants". It is this type that the Bible translators chose to use in the passage that says "go the ant, consider her ways". While these ants eat anything, they often take on white ants that have been disrupted and move into at least portions of their homes. Evidence of white ants existence can be readily seen everywhere but they are vulnerable and must live in their protective dirt tunnels and anthills.

*I have done no actual research for this blog. Anything you read should be taken with the proverbial grain of salt.

African families

Western families are defined both by our cultural background as well as by our Christian heritage. The family unit is generally seen as the parents and their children. The grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins falling into the less consequential extended family.

Culturally, and for a number of different reasons I don't have time to get into, Africans view family somewhat differently. Parts of what we would consider extended family are viewed as immediate family. Recently I was reading one of my father's books...Traditional Marriage in Zambia by Yizenge Chondoka. It had this to say about the African family:

"The other thing to remember about our traditional society is that family relationships that exist are very different from those that are in the European society. For  instance, one can have many 'mothers' besides the biological mother. This is because your mother's sisters are all you mothers. Your father's sisters are your aunts. Your father's brothers are your fathers. Your mother's brothers are your uncles. Your uncle's children are your cousins. The children of your mother's sisters are also your children: your daughters and sons. The children of your father's brothers call you father/mother. That is, they are your sons or daughters. Your sister's children call you (the brother) uncle. You call them nephew or niece. Your sister's children call you ( the sister) mother. Your brother's children are your children. You call them sons or daughters. They call you father/mother."

Glad I was able to clear that up for you. I had Mom help proof reading the quote and she says that not all of this is necessarily the case with the Kaonde. We sat down with our worker and hashed it out in more detail. Now Yizenge may be incorrect, but it could just be that he is from a different tribe. Here's what Clement had to say:

"Your mother's sisters are your mothers. Their children your brothers and sisters. Your mother's brothers are your uncles, their children your cousins. Your father's sisters are 'female father' (literal translation). Their children are your cousins. Your father's brothers are your fathers. Their children are brothers and sisters."

The society is patriarchal and matrilineal. That is, men are the head of the family but you inherit from your mother's brother who is your uncle. So for instance, if you are male and your mother's brother is chief you are in line for succession, not his own sons. In a society with a high mortality rate this close view of kinship works to ensure orphans are taken care of. It also means you are liable to attend many funerals. Something to consider when you think that twenty years, ago Kenya was set double its population in 18 years. I don't know about Zambia but I'm sure it was similar, but with AIDS it is about where it was then. 

There is a three part Chinese curse.

May you live in interesting times.
May you come to the attention of those in authority.
May your wishes be granted.

The first two seem simple enough, the last one was always a puzzler to me. Oh well.

Note: blogger is giving me fits with pictures again so I'm putting up a nice text blog today.

There is another SIM missionary couple here in town who are closer to my age. Luke went to DTS so we have the whole Dallas experience in common too. I'll blog about them later perhaps. The point is, I was at their house working on a few things the other day while they were out.

I was out at the far end of their large yard when there was a visitor at the back door. He had opened the bared door and the screen door and knocked on the door. When no one answered he sat on a part of the built in brick bar-b-que to wait. I decided I best hoof it down and see what was up. It was an old man wearing a decent but well worn set of clothes and a stocking cap. Africans get used clothes from the US and Europe. I'm not sure why they like stocking caps so well, with the temperatures pushing 90F, but they do. He had deep-set, blood shot yellow eyes and next to no teeth. With his short stubble, the description 'old coot' springs to mind. There was also a slight waft of booze about.

He started out in Kaonde which was unintelligible to me. I know enough to tell him that I don't know how to speak Kaonde. Just to be sure he understood, he asked me if I didn't speak Kaonde-in Kaonde. I repeated that no I don't speak Kaonde. Having come this far in Kaonde he launched off once again in Kaonde. I told him this time in English that I really didn't understand him and gave him a dumb look. Dumb looks are very useful, especially if  you suspect that they are asking for money. Which he was. Seeing he was getting nowhere with me in Kaonde he switched to English. His tale of woe was that he had come into town to go to the clinic because a car hit his hand and he had a case in court. He showed me his hand which looked slightly puffy but not too bad. Wouldn't I help him because all he had was seven pin.

An aside note here. Zambian money is paper clipped together in groups of 20 notes. They call the paper clips pins. Why I have no idea. When the worst of the devaluation was going on the largest note was a K50. One bundle of those was K1000. The traditional way of counting is one through five and then you go to five and one, five and two and finally, say five five five and two, for seventeen. Usually at this point an African would just say that there are many. As you can see this is a cumbersome way of counting. The result was all Zambians pretty much learned to count in English even if that was the only English they knew. The thing was that most Zambians had never had a thousand Kwacha so, as their money devalued, they had to learn a new word. Now for whatever reason the "th" sound is somewhat difficult for them to say and thousand is a long word so a thousand is now a 'pin'. For those keeping track one pin is now worth about 20 cents US.

I tried to ask probing questions like "Why did you come to town with not enough money for bus fare back?" but got mostly rambling, evasive answers. I decided the thing to do was to text Luke and see what he thought I should do. I also sent the same text to my Dad. Dad called back and allowed as how it was a tough thing and Jesus said if you give someone a drink you had done it as to him. I mentioned at this point drink may have already being going on. Aha. Well the up shot was Dad was willing to take a risk on that up to 20pin.

Now Dad has a soft heart towards people. There is a beggar who comes by that Dad gives two sandwiches and a glass of water. The sandwiches have a quarter inch of jam in them, which is enough to give me early onset diabetes just looking at them but, that's how Dad eats them too, so there you go. That's not all, they also help out a family who's teenage retarded daughter was gang raped. The three men got her pregnant and gave her HIV and are thankfully in jail. Mom and Dad make sure that the baby is getting some better food. I could go on but you get the idea.

As soon as Dad and I were done talking I got this text from Luke. "Mali kafwako. (no money) If it is who I think, he comes often and drinks like a fish. Tell him we have no money". I asked his name...Johnathan. As I was texting that back his insistent begging became sobs and tears. Now I was really feeling bad for him. Then this text came from Luke. "Yup. That's who I thought. He's stubborn, but don't give him anything, even when he cries."

Well now, I'm a cynic and a bit ornery to boot. I decided to put it to the test. Up to this point I had been unwilling to give the guy a penny. I decided if he really did want bus fare I'd pay the balance of it. As we were walking the ten minutes or so up to the bus stop Luke and I were still texting back and forth. At one point this guy said how nice cell phones were and broadly suggested I buy him one. I told him to save his money and buy his own. He decided to shut up on the topic as it seemed he was going to get some free money from me although I don't think he quite knew what I had in mind. It did reinforce in my mind that all he really wanted was beer money.

As we approached the bus stop I asked again where it was he wanted to go, so that he would not change his story on me. Nope he stuck to that thing like glue. We found the bus no problem and the price was 30pin. I asked for his money. He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a few K1000 bills. I said "No, no where is that K5000 bill you had?" He put those bills back in his pocket and pulled out the seven pin from his pants pocket. I now made him pull the money back out of his shirt pocket. There was one stay K500 that clung to the K1000 bills he tried to shove back in but I made him give that up too. All told he had eleven pin. I made up the other nineteen. I told the conductor I wanted a ticket and that he was not to refund this man any money without finding me first and giving me mine. I kept the ticket to be sure. Hard experience has taught that bus drivers NEVER refund money so I felt pretty safe. Telling a bus driver to not refund money is like telling me to not join the ballet...yep a safe bet. As it was he was the last person on the bus before it was full so they shut the doors and drove off.

Now we have a gracious God who meets us where we are. God loves a cheerful giver and knows I'm a cynic. As that bus pulled out I can honestly say I was glad I had made a small gift into this man's life.

As it happens, although the bus was parked near the road, the exit to the parking lot was back behind a gas station onto a side road. On the other side of that road is a place that sells ice cream so I decided to get one. As I was walking across the gas station parking lot the bus pulled in to get gas. Our fellow yelled out the window asking how he could travel without his ticket. Well, the conductor was right there and knew where he was going. I made my way over and had a word with the driver and conductor. Johnathan was now out of the bus and quiet hot. He was yelling this and that, telling me to keep my money and so forth. The problem, as I saw it, was his brain is dissipated by a lifetime of drinking and his thinking could not get out ahead of ours. No sooner did he say forget the whole thing than he remembered that his money was involved in the deal too. To add to his problems the bus driver stood firm and did not disappoint my expectation of never refunding money. Gas, having been bought, he was urged back on the bus-without bags or baggage, and off they went. I just looked it up, the place he was going is about 115 miles out of town. Somehow his face, as he departed, didn't look as happy as you would expect for someone whose wishes had just been granted.

I miss the rains down in Africa

Zambia has two seasons...rainy and dry. The dry season is divided further into two parts-the cold and the hot. The dry season starts at the end of April and by July is in the cold season. If you recall at the beginning of August when I was visiting my friend Rob, there was occasional frost on the ground. There are a few clouds so what you really have is a typical desert climate with heat in the day and cold in the night. Gradually the days get less cold and the season becomes hot. Around the first week in September when I was in the bush we had clouds at night and it was noticeably warmer. Rains came last week, a bit early this year. All the dirt roads around here have the finest talcum powder, like red dust. It flies up in a huge cloud and coats cars, people and plants. Like the transformation brought about by the first snow, the rain washed all that dust away and made the world new.

Jacaranda and Bougainvillaea (foreground)

Mornings are now soft, delicate and velvet. The air is pungent with the smell of decomposing leaves and Jacaranda blossoms. There is the faintest of breezes. The days may still get hot but by late afternoon the dark clouds form and moderate the temperature. The temperature may flirt with 90F but somehow even if it has rained it is never muggy and humid, don't ask me how-it is a puzzle to me. So far on this trip, until this last week, there had been but the briefest of showers. For a while I was worried that I would hit them everywhere I visited during the dry season. Perhaps if you are old enough you remember the 80's song which gave this blog it's title. No, you don't? OK so I mis-heard what I wanted to hear. The lyric is really 'I bless the rains'. The fact is, I did miss the wonderful African rains and couldn't be happier than to be here now.

Note: A big welcome, whoever you are to my Russian friends.

Security

Editor's note: This blog has been half written for months. It probably should have remained that way.

    Author's note: There is no editor.

Security...we all want it in some form, whether emotional, financial, spiritual, political or personal. The pursuit of it drives our lives and directs the decisions we make in life, sometimes to our own harm. Since this is a simple little blog I'll leave the analysis of codependency to someone with more experience and deal here today with personal.

Everyone wants to feel safe in their own homes. Anyone who has ever been burglarized knows that awful vulnerable feeling that comes when you come home to an open door and a ransacked house. That day was January 8th, 2000 for me. My reaction was to get a dog. Under the circumstances I feel it was a fairly measured and reasonable reaction.

Everywhere you go in Africa, the desire to keep belongings safe is in evidence. Shops have bars and shutters. Security guards loiter and large shopping chains have someone on every aisle. Having someone who can help you is a nice change but is not really the reason that they are there. There is a whole industry that supplies gates and shutters. If you have a gate, then you need to lock it but also protect the lock. Gates have a plate that covers the lock so you have to reach around and unlock a lock you can't really see, or some have the lock in some type of box.

Better neighborhoods are fenced with 8' concrete block walls. On  top of the walls is often a row of razor wire or electric fence. Some people have the loop razor wire with a electric fence strung on the inside of that.

As you leave town the fences thin out but where they can afford them people still have bars on the windows. Some places in the bush the mud brick homes have windows that have been closed up. I'm not really sure why they were there to start with but that's what I've seen. In the rural areas, social life really happens outside or in the open walled kitchen area not inside a dark house.

Perhaps the funniest security measure is the couple who have one end of a cable locked to their car and the other to their bed. Dad has to leave early some days, Mom's thankful that so far he's always remember to unlock it...so far.

Ten days in the bush

These top two pictures don't go with the text.
I just put them up here to break it up

The South Africans used to have a saying that you should make your servant quarters nice enough for yourself to live in because someday you may have to. That has sort of happened here in Zambia. The mission built a house here in Solwezi many years ago which is now in the custody of the Zambian church. There is a missionary couple living in the house but the church is also renting out the servant's quarters to a descendant of a former missionary. His name is Charlie Rae and he works as a civil engineer for the mines and is 4th generation in Africa. He was at Sakeji about 20 years before me and when I was young I knew (as much as someone young can know someone old) his parents. His niece and nephew were also at Sakeji with me although some years younger. All this to say I got to know Charlie and he told me about an opportunity to go in the bush and count animals.

Charlie is a (note not the but a) driving force behind the West Lunga Trust which opperates in an area just outside one of Zambia's least developed game parks. The game park does not in actual fact have any accommodation for visitors at all and the wiki entry says it's not even listed by the tourist board. The area is in tribal land under control of three chiefs and is designated as a Game Management Area or GMA. The land in the GMA is not open to farming or habitation except by permission by the chief (some of the scouts live near the road). In order to fish the river, a commercial license must be obtained from the government fisheries department. It is possible to cross the area but only if you obtain a transit letter form the chief. Barring a fishing license or a transit letter the only people allowed into the GMA are game scouts (and apparently friends of Charlie). The game scouts are different from game rangers in that game rangers work in the game park and are paid by the government. The scouts are local men paid by the chief or possibly someone at the provincial level. The scouts have the power to detain you but not press charges or decide you can be let free if the evidence is too small to prosecute. That is to say, game rangers have some authority that in the states may be at the discretion of a district attorney or prosecutor. Both scouts and rangers go armed with AK-47s. Much of the scouts other gear has been provided by Charlie (the scouts are all big fans). He has been the force behind making sure the annual inventory is done, which is where I come in. Since 2003 lines have been laid out every 5k that are in theory 10k long and are walked once a year, the animals seen are recorded. For reasons not fully understood by me but involving vast sums of UN money coming into the district and being squandered elsewhere, the inventory had not been done the last two years.

Friday September 2nd I was asking Charlie (after talking about planes, if you must know...he flies a RV-6) about the counting. He said if I wanted to go I'd better hurry since it was about to start and he was leaving that afternoon. With a minimum of thought and maximum of worry I decided to do it. My main worry was whether I would physically be able to walk the distances required. Charlie felt that on an average day we would walk 25k. A quick extremely slow trip to the bank and grocery store, as well as market and meat market saw me outfitted with a small backpack, cheap wide brim hat, some apples, granola bars, rice, split peas, hard candy and two types of precooked sausage and jerky. I also had a 2.5liter jug of water, a borrowed sleeping bag and thin mat from Mom, with my camera I was ready to go. The plan was for me to go with Charlie to his house in Mwinilunga for the night and then Saturday drive with the chairman of the West Lunga Trust to the GMA. As it turns out the chairman's car was not working so on Saturday and then Sunday I went with Charlie out to a new house he is building. I tried to talk pictures but my camera utterly failed to capture the splendor of the site. The Japanese have a word to describe the harmony of a well trained horse and it's experienced rider...what ever that word is, it would apply to this house. The house is situated out of town close to the airport surrounded by virgin forest. In the middle of the property is a large sink hole about 150' lower than the house which has a small marsh/lake at the bottom. The whole property is surrounded by game fence and the plan is to have various African antelope in the fence. There will be a number of places to stay around the hole with a eye to the local upper management of the mines as customers on a weekend getaway. The accommodations will be tents that have a cement slab under them and a thatch roof over with a bricked shower and toilet at the end. The Zambians have long since stopped building round huts preferring square corners since that seems I guess, more modern. Needless to say old-time whites in Africa always choose the round option whenever they can. Charlie's cabin has two bedrooms with a curve leading into each wing and round ends on them. When we were there they were putting up the ridge and rafters. Well, I had a ball. As a former roofer the sort of problems he's invented were right up my alley.

The woods showing the difference between an ideal
burn and a too hot and dry burn.

Monday morning we hired a truck to haul me down to the GMA at 7am. The driver was 1 1/2 hours late which was just as well since I had been up all night sick and was feeling very fragile. Lets just say I started out the trip well drained. America's 3rd favorite hypothetical question(the other two involving the sound of hands and trees)  involves a question about bears and woods. In regards to me, the answer would be yes, yes I did, but not till Thursday.

They only hold their guns like gangsters
while posing for pictures

Let me at this point give a summery of the trip and then handle a few topics by themselves.
We arrived first at the scout camp, picked them up and moved to base camp 1, about 7k away, and set up camp.  The next 3 days some went on patrol and some counted on lines 9,7 and then 5. Having accumulated some blisters I sat out line 5. Next a number of us went up to base camp 2. The next 3 days we counted on 3, 4, and 1.  Again blisters being a problem I sat out line 1. The following day we returned to base camp 1. The last day on patrol we did line 6. The car was to get us but was late so we didn't leave till early on the 16th.

The suspect

Let me now focus on a few specifics. The day we arrived we pulled into the scout camp and they had there a poacher who had been caught with a load of dried baboon meat. Apparently the scouts were just walking along a path and he was coming the other way and decided not to risk running against AK-47s. His partner did and got away. Both men were from local villages and well know to the scouts. The next day when we came from patrol he was sick as a dog and was diagnosed with dysentery caused from drinking bad water. After he didn't improve overnight one of the scouts went off in the bush and brought back some roots from what we a kids called a monkey face tree (no idea why, we learned it from others). They boiled up the roots and he drank the 'tea'. A day later he was doing fine.

Bush medicine 

The night we went to base camp 2 five scouts and the suspect remained at base camp 1. Somehow during the night he removed one side of the cuffs that were on his feet and fled into the night.  I say somehow because for a while they gave a reward for convictions until poachers figured out that a large bribe was better than 6 months to 6 years in jail. When I asked the chairman of the trust what would happen he felt that after hiding for a month or two he would arrange a relative to return the undamaged cuffs and plead his case. The fact that scouts and this poacher all live in the same area makes it hard for them to be strict. In the villages poaching is viewed as sort of wrong, like running a stop light that has been yellow so long it's starting to turn pink. Not all poachers get off. One day when the scouts were on patrol on the other side of the river they were on the track of poachers and met some scouts working for a different chief. The other scouts said they would take over and if they didn't find them come over for breakfast. Next morning they were warmly welcomed and after loud greetings all round got down to exchanging information and telling stories. Now all of this is in a language I don't understand so I was mostly busying my self with breakfast but one story was so dramatically told I asked what they were saying. It seems their guys caught a poacher but when they got to the road his village threatened the scouts with having a witch doctor put a curse on them. The spiritual darkness here is such that this was not an idle treat and the scouts didn't treat it as such. They got right on their radios and called in the game rangers 'come pronto'. Well come they did. In mass. The rangers pulled right up into the village and proceeded to lay a beating on all concerned. The scouts described it as being like a riot with the rangers doing all the rioting. Then they too the poacher off to jail. I asked if they had a curse put on them but they just laughed and said no. People in Africa do indeed live in fear of witch craft but when it comes down to it men with AK-47s wield a more immediate level of respect.

I've cropped the bloody bits.

While walking the lines almost every day we crossed poacher's paths and almost every day there was traffic less than two weeks old. Most of the poaching is done with wire snares. On September 11th we came to a stream bed with a young Blue Duiker caught by the leg in a wire snare. Normally it would have caught an adult around the neck and killed quickly. In this case it had taken the fur off the leg to the knee and broke the other leg where it wrapped around the tree. We put it right down. They say that the poachers set traps and then leave so they wouldn't be caught. They then return a few days later. These guys had probably seen the scouts go into the bush and had not been in the area for two weeks. The poor thing had been trapped for about a day.

Bush Viagra tm

I touched briefly on the bush medicine used to cure our poacher's dysentery. One day coming home we came to a small stream and the leader let out an load exclamation. I thought he must have fallen in since I was at the end of the line and was still scrambling through the dense brush that always surrounds these streams. Nothing could have been further from the truth. The fellow found a plant that helps with potency and in the turgidity department. Well all the guys on the trip were from their mid thirties to mid forties and all wanted some. Again it's boiled and the juice then drunk about a tablespoon at a time three times a day. They offered me some but I demurred, I really don't have much need for that type of cure at this point in my life. Later in the trip more roots were collected that were supposed to improve general good health.

An improvised bridge

Every day out walking we came across streams. This being the dry season some were mere boggy places or stagnant water. Others were babbling brooks. The scouts all wore 'gum' boots so stepping in water was not a problem. I didn't mind water so long as it was not too deep. My main worry was that I fall in and kill the GPS and my camera. Several days after we crossed we took a break while I ate my lunch and all had a good drink. I carried 2 1/2 liters of water which was about the right amount. If the stream was moving they all drank straight from it as they did the Lunga. If it was stagnant they had treatment pills they put in the water. One day we saw where a poacher had lit a fire and we were headed that way. Since we were high already we decided to keep to the high ground.

The pool I'd sit in to wash.

At one point we crossed a fast moving stream that couldn't be more than 100' below the ridge line. I would have loved to explore it's source. I can't figure how you could have a water source so near the top of a ridge but there it was. The best spring was at base camp 2. The camp was situated where it entered the Lunga. I had been told it was a hot spring. It was at best a lukewarm stream. Still considering how chilly the Lunga was it was a pleasure to sit in at the end of the day and wash my cloths whilst getting cleaner than I ever did splashing water over my shoulder(while suppressing a scream) at base camp 1. The whole of that stream was less than 300ft long but will be somewhere I return to often in my dreams as an almost perfect place.



The actual job we were doing was two fold. At it's core we were doing an inventory of the animals we saw in the area. In all of this area fire is used to clear the grass. Within about a week of being burned new tender grass appears despite being the middle of the dry season with the rains months away. How or why the grass knows to grow once the coarse dry old stuff been burned is an enuring mystery to me.
Most of this area had either not been burned or burned within the last week or so. In areas that hadn't been burned there was no way at we were going to see animals short of stepping on them. In the other areas there was little food for them. Although we were in fairly open woodlands not much could be see beyond 100 yards. The upshot of all that is we saw lots of scat and tracks but few animals. To be fair I did indeed see the hind ends of a few rapidly departing critters. Nothing you could have gotten a camera turned on for. The second thing we were doing was marking the trail for years to come. Every 100m or so bark has been cut off a patch of tree. Some lines also had how far along it was marked but that was 5 years ago and needed repainted. After the first day I had some pretty gnarly blisters. In all my worries blisters didn't cross my thinking...just goes to show the futility of worry.....you're liable to worry about all the wrong things.
Least you blame my boots, as Charlie did, they fit as well as any footwear (or should that be foot ware look it up and give me you opinion in the comments, Mom and I settled for footwear) I have had in the last decade. Crashing through heavy brush I was daily grateful for their heavy construction. No, unfortunately my soft flabby feet were the real culprits. By the end I had 7 but one which was king. From the second day onwards a scout and I went forward at a plodding pace to find the marked trees, letting the painters follow. In tall grass marked trees were often hard to find since trees were not directly on the line but close. One tree to the next might point you off the line a bit.
The other major peril whilst walking were numerous shrubby thorn trees which were about shoulder height and hid like snakes in the grass waiting to grab you. The solution was a bamboo walking stick which also made walking considerably easier. I really liked that stick but left it in the bush since I couldn't see a use for it here in town.






Two of the guys were completely honey crazy. Coming home they were on the look out for wild hives. Now I know African bees have quiet a reputation but they are not as bad as all that. So far as I know they never got stung even as they chopped down the tree the bees lived in. In the category of you learn something new every day I found out that there are a whole class of stingerless bees that also produce honey. The ones that they found came in two sizes and besides not stinging they also differ in that they store honey in round pouches. They don't produce much honey.

A sweet tooth break. Get it any way you can.

The entrance to the small bees' hive

Honey pouches about 1/3
of their honey

What Africans call Bream

The Lunga river divides the game park from the GMA. The area we were in was about 15k north and west of the game park. We camped on the bank of the river. It was of course a spot picked for it's natural beauty. We camped under huge old trees with a good mix of palm trees which were graceful and had beautiful arched leaves. Charlie at the last minute loaned me a Hennessy Hammock which was very comfortable. The only problem was the nights were cool and the sleeping bag compressed under me kept me somewhat cooler than I would have liked the first night. The next night I wore more cloths to bed. I never did figure out a graceful way to get the top half of me into the sleeping bag. For those unfamiliar (probably all) the hammock is asymmetrical with allowances made so you can sleep on your side in an almost flat position. The concern about the hard ground sorted, the hammock had a built in net so the creeping bug problem was also sorted.

Simon with a Tiger fish

What a welcome relief since I brought no tent. We brought a canoe with us and used it to haul supplies to and from base camp 2. It was also use by Simon the guild to fish. Simon has a good quantity of western fishing gear Americans have given him over the years. Almost every day the supper pot had fish in it. Happy (yes that's his real name), who you see in the group photo holding a cat fish, and Simon would set night lines for cat fish. If you ever get a chance get Charlie to arrange a fishing trip for you. Tiger fish are the king of sport fishing in Zambia. Bring silver lures with a leader. They have a mouth full (well not actually full, since the teeth remain on the outside when they shut their jaw, but you know what I'm saying) of sharp teeth. As far as eating goes they have lots of small "Y" bones. It's these bones which give them their explosive speed and fight on the line.


The last day was a long and boring one. We didn't expect our ride to be there before 11am at the earliest. We were packed and ready to go. As the afternoon drug on we cussed and discussed our driver. We decided that the chairman's truck must have been broke down again and that the hired truck must be stopping to pick up rides. By 5 we admitted (we were out of cell range) to ourselves that my note had either not gotten to Charlie or he was letting us stay an extra day or something. We unpacked and set up camp again. There were many discussions around the fire about what we should do. Some of the guys wanted to leave their stuff and walk the 27k to the main road. In the end I said no, let's give it another day and we went to bed. At 3:15 Simon gave a yell, 'The car is coming!' Sure enough it was the chairman. His car had problems on the way so they nursed to back to town and made repairs. They then came and got us but since his starter was out we had to leave since he couldn't turn it off. Wouldn't you know it as we were about to leave Happy came running up with a catfish. He'd run to check his night lines as soon as he heard the car.

Some final thoughts on the trip. It is probably the last time in my life I will ever get to spend any time like that in the African bush. It is still there and despite poachers there are still animals in it which makes me glad. I would have gotten a walking stick sooner. It really helped keep off the thorns and in walking on rough terrain. Charlie sent a kilo of salt and two of sugar with me. I should have brought oil too. A bag of onions and a dozen head of cabbage would have been widely welcomed. Packets of tomato sauce and seasoning might have been nice. Because I only drank boiled water a kettle would have been nice. They took limited pots since they were in a carrying mentality. I came with a car and it would have not been a problem. For the life of me I can't think of anything I'd be able to do different about blisters.
If you are going to be in Zambia in early September and miles of trekking through the bush appeal to you, I'd suggest contacting Charlie via the West Lunga Trust website well in advance. I can't say you wouldn't regret it but I can say I don't.(a week later now that my blisters have healed)

Shindwa

Editors note: There have been no blogs recently since I was in the bush for two weeks.
    Authors note: there is no editor.

Just what is a Shindwa you ask? Well, it may be me misspelling a Lunda word...that is always a possibility. If I am in fact spelling it correctly then it is the fruit of what some might call wild ginger. At Sakeji, Shindwas were one of the wild fruit we ate and, as wild fruit go, have a high ratio of edible food to fruit. Most bush fruit is skin and seeds. This post is as much about me reminiscing as providing any sort of relevance to you, the gentle reader.

Shindwa grow part way out of the ground and are bright red, they really stand out when walking through the bush. The tough outer hull is not eaten, inside is a white pulpy/fibrous fruit with the consistency of maybe a not very juicy orange. A peach is more fleshy and a mango more stringy. The white part is fairly tart although not as tart as a "sour head" candy. It has it's own flavor which I won't try to compare to anything because it is it's own. Dad never liked them because he felt like they tasted like a scoury calf which I always felt was an unfair comparison. Throughout the pulp are dark seeds which I believe are known as Grains of Paradise. The seeds are indeed fairly peppery and are mostly swallowed whole. I first saw reference to Grains of Paradise on the TV show Good Eats. The internet has may recipes for GOP but none for the fruit themselves. I suppose that is because the seeds can be dried and transported easily and that no doubt some in West Africa eat the fruit. If they don't then they are missing the best part. From time to time Mrs. Bru. made Shindwa ice cream and I made the ones you see in the bowl above into not very good jam.















Final note: Today, September 20th is election day in Zambia. Please pray for peace. With 10 people running for president some will vote for someone who doesn't get the job.

Kingdom Hall

Mom thinks this title is in bad taste, just so you know.
I started this post and didn't finish it so it is a bit out of order.

At Sakeji the most we ever had in our class was 8. As it happened there were 4 boys and 4 girls. After about the 7th grade we were only 4, 2 boys and 2 girls. Elizabeth I have no idea what happened to. Desiree was, last I know, in Kampala but I was unable to reach her. She seems to not be on facebook much and may be out of the city or on furlough. I you read this Desiree...hi. Robert Kingdom is living in Zambia and farming (his father came to Zambia as a volunteer and stayed on farming). Coming from Tanzania I was not sure whether I would be welcome. Andrew, who farms near him and was in Jason's grade, is on facebook (Rob would rather 5 real friends than 200 facebook friends and I'm afraid he may have a point) had said he would check but had not gotten back to me.

I stayed at the Mkushi city council guest house when I got into town since it was midnight. I had been to see both Andrew and Rob on my '05 visit. They both live some ways out of town. During colonial times foreign farmers were limited by law in where they could farm-the Mkushi area was one area. I knew that Andrew was involved in a church that reached out to white farmers. The challenge Sunday was finding that church. I asked at an Anglican church and they thought that the church was at Chengelo School which is on Andrew's dad's farm. The farm is 20km back north and 7km off the main road. I got a bus from town to the main road. I had been waiting for sometime with no one going that way when a pickup pulled into the gas station, with a young white lady in the back. Hey, if they gave her a ride there is hope for me. Turns out she was peace corp and meeting someone there. They were with the power company and going right by the school. Hop in. Thank you Lord. It was the wrong church but Andrew's parents were there. We had actually stayed at their house in '87 but they know our whole family in any case. One phone call later I had a warm welcome to stay with Robert. Thank you Lord.

Last time I visited the Kingdoms were building their house and Amy was pregnant. The house is a pay as you go affair and Sean will be 6 in December. The house was built without the benefit of an architect. Amy would be the first to admit that the kitchen is too big and the living space is too. The house was built basically as two houses connected in the kitchen area. Each wing is the same with 3 bedrooms and a bathroom. There are still things to be done to the house but apart form there being perhaps too much space it's comfortable. The roof is metal and especially at night quite noisy as seed pods from trees pop open and fall onto it. The Saturday they went out and left me at home alone is when I really noticed it most.

Besides Sean they also have twin boys Hugh and James who are 4. The boys were not as interested in books as my small relatives-something I attribute to Asha leading the interest in. The Kingdom boys', after a day of shyness, main interest seemed to be piling on me and using me as a trampoline. A favorite trick was to go sliding over the arm of a chair whilst kicking me about the ears and insisting that I pull them back up. I'm not complaining-just saying. My favorite trick on the other hand was, if I was carrying them, to toss them headlong over my shoulder and down my back. I never could seem to get them past my neck.

Robert grows wheat in the dry season and soy during the wet season. The wheat is grown under center pivot sprinklers that came from Nebraska. Most of the day is filled up with worry and not much else for most of the growing season. Mkushi has the coldest weather of anywhere I have been on this trip (I slept under 4 blankets). Some mornings there was frost on the ground when we went out. Rob has a very specific dollar amount for what it might cost if the frost is too hard when the wheat is pollinating. He also knows how much birds in the wheat cost him as well as how much is damaged by the tractor spraying various things on the crop. If a field is doing well and the price is up there comes a price point where it makes sense to get a crop duster rather than doing it with the tractor. So far they have made a good living farming but it does not keep Rob from various worries. It also allows Rob to be a stay at home dad while Amy works as a vet.

One morning there was a crop duster at sunrise. Anyone who know me at all knows that I have a slightly more than passing interest in flying. Rob is out ahead of me on this count. He has 5 hours of flight instruction and was spending the days studying for the written test. Needless to say we got on like a house on fire. At first I thought the crop duster was one of his flying friends taunting him but he roused me from bed (remember it was cold) and we watched till he was done with the field. So the moral of this story is if you want to be a great host when I visit-arrange for a crop duster.