My Stay with a Missionary Family...

     I stayed with a family in my village for several days while my roof was being re-thatched. They are missionaries from the States and have lived here for almost seven years. They are a family of six: two girls, two boys, and mom and dad. The mom and I get along fantastically and are taking full advantage of having another American woman to talk with which is a rarity here in this African village.

     We are the minority: eight white people out of 5,000 in this community. There is another missionary who stays nearby who works with this family. All of us interact the way we would in the States: family dinners at the dinner table, watching movies on the DVD player, jumping on the trampoline, and ‘normal’ conversation with the ability to speak English at a normal speed without the accent we use when speaking with the locals and without the worry whether we are being understood or not.

     The Family’s Work…The work of the missionary family and my work as a Peace Corps Volunteer are similar: we help people learn how to help themselves. The only difference I see is spreading the Word of God, which I don’t do because I work for a United States government agency.

   I was able to watch an interesting workshop my friends held at their site. They have a piggery which is maintained the way how people in the bush maintain pigs. Pigs, as opposed to cattle, take up little room and because of their smaller size they are easier to handle. Raising pigs for food adds to the limited variety of protein foods that are available in the village.

      I watched a pig slaughter done the traditional way. Difficult to watch.

     First was the wrangling of the chosen pig. It is not good to wait for the pigs to get too big, or they are too difficult to handle.

     I will save the rest of the details of the actual slaughter from this blog…little too disturbing for those who are uncomfortable learning how animals are killed for food. Some who witness this may say they want to become vegetarians; I didn’t choose this. Instead, I decided for now on I will always eat meat with a new kind of appreciation; this animal gave its life for me to fill my stomach. I will think that way even when eating a McDonald’s hamburger (IF I ever eat one). 

     The villagers in training are learning a skill that can potentially make a big difference in their lives. Their diets will improve and they can earn an extra income.     So, how can pork products generate income in a society that lacks refrigeration?     The missionary family has the solution…sausage. Pork is ground, mixed with preservatives, encased, and then hung to dry for a few weeks. No refrigeration necessary. 

    This sausage is not sold to local villagers; too expensive. Instead it is sold in the cities. This sausage is rich and considered a delicacy. The miners in town are willing and able to spend the extra money for a product that is locally made that they can serve with crackers at their cocktail parties.

Invasion of the Dorylus species and saving kittens… My stay with the missionary family is like that at home in the States. The house they live in has indoor plumbing, and electricity. I stayed in a guest house attached to the main house…I had my own shower with hot water, and flushing toilet. Things I live without at my hut.

    I think it was my third night staying at their house. It was late in the evening, said goodnight to the family and headed to my quarters. When I entered my bathroom I saw a stream of black ants marching from the window to the sink. There were thousands of them.

    I went back to the main house to let my friend know about the ant party going on when she rushed me through the door and shut it abruptly after I entered. She said there is a snake right outside. She got her husband and we found a puff adder coiled in the corner outside the door. Puff adders aren’t deadly, but the bite is painful and can cause swelling. Unfortunately it had to be killed and her husband was successful with this task.

     Snake conquest over, my friend and I both armed with ant killer went into my bathroom and sprayed the trail of ants. We found that they made their way in my bedroom as well. We sprayed everywhere. We agreed I would spend the night in on the couch in the main house.

    These ants are of the Dorylus species. They are also known as impashi, driver ants or siafu. These ants are medium size and can travel in a row of up to 50,000,000 ants. The trails of these ants are easy to avoid, often a person has to jump over an ant trail while walking in the bush. The ants will attack anything living and bite a painful bite with their pincers and NOT let go. They are capable of killing and eating immobile prey.

   I fell asleep on the couch while my friend baked bread for morning’s breakfast. I woke shortly after falling asleep to a discerning discussion between my friend and her husband. I got up to see what was wrong. My friend said the ants are attacking the week-old kittens and their mother. I followed them outside to where the kittens were. The husband tossed the kittens away from the ants, but all six kittens were literally covered with ants. Our first thought was to put the kittens out of their misery…they were crying in such agony and their mother was beside herself while she was also covered with ants.

     My friend and I decided to at least save two kittens. If we pick up the kittens, we assumed the ants would attack us, too, but they didn’t. They continued to latch onto the kittens.

    We rushed them over to the kitchen sink, and held their bodies under the running faucet while we picked each individual ant off the kittens’ little bodies. There must have been well over 50 ants on each of them.

    We were successful pulling all the ants off the two kittens, dried them with towels and placed them with their waiting mother. Immediately they began to nurse.

    We went back outside…luckily the rest of the kittens were still alive. The three of us continued picking off the ants of the rest of the six kittens until they were ant-free. All six kittens were back with their mother nursing away. The mother wasn’t covered with ants like the kittens, but she did have a few latched on the inside of her mouth which we were able to remove.

    I visited my friends a week later and all six kittens are alive and well. Their eyes are open now--cute as ever. So glad we did what we did to save them knowing we may risk having ants biting our hands which happened once in a while, but it didn’t matter to us.

    Interesting thing about the relationship between humans and these ants…when an army moves into a hut, people tend to allow them to ‘clean’ their hut of insects the ants find inside. Once the insects and other critters are devoured, the ants move on.

Latest update... I came down with malaria this past Thursday. I am on daily malaria preventative medication, but with everything going on with my roof and living out of my backpack I may have missed a dose. My symptoms were dehydration, high fever (I felt like I was in an oven), weakness, and achy joints. The symptoms came on within a three hour period, so I got tested and was positive. I caught it early because I never developed a headache. I am fully recovered now. Don't want to get that again!

    My roof is being re-thatched. It supposedly wasn't done correctly the first time, so since the second time re-thatching is so close to rain season, rain season began while my roof was off. So, I have to wait for the grass to dry before they put it on my roof. Some of my things are damaged, but I may be reimbursed for some things like my mattress.

Crazy cab ride...

     I’d like to use this cab experience to explain what it’s like to ride in a cab in Zambia. Cab rides here are much different from cab rides in the States.

     So buckle your seat-belt and enjoy the ride.

     I take a cab as a last resort. I would rather hitch which is fairly safe and a common way to get around in this country since most people don’t have cars or a lot of money. I chose to take a cab this particular day because later in the day it is difficult to find a ride hitching.

     I choose to take a shared cab because it is affordable compared to a private cab. A private cab costs ten times more.  On a Peace Corps budget I have no choice but to take a shared cab.

     Around noontime on Saturday I set out to the roadside of in my village in my full-length skirt, Teva sandals, hair pulled back and carrying my almost-empty backpack with the intent to come back with it loaded with food and supplies.  Solwezi, my boma (town), has a large market, a grocery store and the provincial house where Peace Corps Volunteers go to do work, such as writing grants or updating blogs.

    I sat in the shade on the roadside waiting for a cab to pull up. I attempted to journal until a local sat next to me to chat. Then we were visited by an intoxicated man from the bar, and then another one…the conversation wasn’t very interesting. Finally all three left. I was alone again. I looked at the time on my phone; I’ve been waiting for over an hour. No cab.

     Finally a cab pulled up after two hours of waiting. If I had to get somewhere at a certain time it wouldn’t matter. This is how it is in Zambia. It is ok to be late because it is so difficult to get anywhere on time.

     I get in the small compact Japanese hatchback along with two other people. I sit in the passenger seat with my pack on my lap. We pull out onto the road. Immediately the cab pulls over to pick up a couple waiting on the side of the road. They are headed to Mutanda; halfway to Solwezi. They pile in. Four people in the back seat and the driver and me in the front and the trunk full of bags.

     We continue to drive down the tarmac (paved road) at excessive speed while dodging the wading pool-sized potholes. The cab stops to let off a passenger at a small village--one less person--not always a good thing, because this means the driver can stop and pick up another passenger which can take a long time.

     Driving along there is a man with a single bag slung over his shoulder waiting on the side of the road waving us down. OK, this shouldn’t take long.

     Well, I was wrong.

     The driver of the cab gets out and talks with the man. The man disappears into a small hut. A few minutes later the hatchback opens and something is placed inside. Whatever it was it made a loud yelling sound. I turn around…it’s a full-grown goat, hogtied, placed upside down in the trunk.

     Great! Poor goat! Usually it’s live chickens that are thrown in the back of cabs.

     So, this pick up ended up taking about 15 minutes. Cab is full. We continue stops along the way dropping people off and picking more up. The man with the goat is finally let off. I watch them unload the goat and untie the goat’s legs; the goat stumbles onto its feet and the man leads it with a rope tied around its neck.

     The remaining passengers and I are dropped off at a gas station about a half mile from where I am usually dropped off. Walking isn’t such a big deal around here. Passengers are dropped where it is convenient for the driver even if the full fare is paid.

     I pay the driver, give a quick thank you in Kikaonde, sling my backpack on my back and walk along the dusty, busy main road of Solwezi. I have about a mile and a half walk to my destination.

     I’m used to this mode of travel. Every cab ride has its own unique experience…never the same, never reliable, and never uneventful.