Muleya's Birthday Party

I got to attend a nice little birthday party last weekend. Well, I guess you could call it a birthday party. Whatever it was, it was fun.

Muleya, my little next door neighbor and sister of the infamous (infamous means MORE than famous) Junior the Pooper, was turning five. Birthdays aren’t that big of a deal ‘round these parts, but people do take note of them and sometimes celebrate.

So, I figured, what better way to celebrate than by slaughtering a live animal? I dropped some money on Chealo, Muleya’s 18 year old cousin, and got her to pick up a big ol’ chicken at the local market for supper. Chickens aren’t that expensive. We got a big one for K20,000, about US $4. Still, you have to keep in mind that Zambia is one of the world’s poorest countries and many can’t afford to eat chicken on a regular basis, so it’s a nice treat.

As usual, I insisted that I be the one to do the slaughtering. Having financed the purchasing of the bird I didn’t feel out of line in doing so. So, I sliced it up and gave it over to Chealo to cook up.

Oh boy, what a party. We sat out on mats on the ground in the back yard and ate chicken and nsima and cabbage. We talked and laughed and threw food at each other. It was a clear, breezy night and the stars were out and in full effect. The cows were mooing and serenading us in the background.

The party suffered a minor setback when the birthday girl, walking around with her chicken in her hand, tripped and dropped her chicken in the sand. Man, she started bawling. I told her that it was ok, that it was her party and she could cry if she wanted to.

So, all in all it wasn’t that different from most other nights here. They usually eat outside like that and I often join them. But we did get to eat a big ol’ chicken, and that was nice. In a way I felt like I was back home at Two-For Tuesday.

So that was the “party”.

Later on we were sitting around and chatting, and we started talking about Christmas. They asked me what we did at Christmas time in the US. So I told them. I asked them what they did for Christmas here. One of the girls looked at me and said quite matter-of-factly, “Well, Sam, pretty much exactly what we’re doing right now,” ie. sitting around and not doing much of anything. She didn’t say it in a negative way. Just stating the facts.

I’ve come to find out that most churches have a lot going on around Christmas time, but, for the most part, it sounds like there won’t be a whole lot going on different from the usual.

That’s how it goes out here in Siavonga. There ain’t much changing from day to day.

And you know what? That’s a-ok with me. Give me a little chicken here and there and I’ll do just fine.

Chuck Norris No More

An interesting shift occurred recently without my realizing it.

It all became apparent as I was strolling through the streets of Lusaka last week. Edwin Luneta, the Namumu Finance Manager, Zenzo, Namumu’s Assistant Accountant, and I were there to take care of a few items of business. They were submitting a quarterly report to a big Namumu donor organization and I was renewing Namumu’s fishing license.

As we walked here and there throughout the city something very strange happened. My hair is a bit longer now and my beard a bit bushier and this time, for the first time, not one person called my Chuck Norris. No, no, they all called me something else. This time I heard, “Hey! It’s Jesus!” no fewer than 10 times. No joke.

The strange thing is that it wasn’t a slow shift from one name to the other. I mean, I would have anticipated that maybe the number of people shouting that I look like Chuck Norris would slowly decline and the number of people shouting that I look like Jesus would slowly increase. No, it was a sudden shift from one to the other.

So, as I see it, somewhere along the line I instantaneously transformed from looking like Chuck Norris to looking like Jesus (or, at least, what people in Zambia think that Jesus looked like).

Go figure.

I’ve got to say, one thing I’m very much enjoying about my life in Zambia is the opportunity it has afforded me to, for the most part, show a blatant disregard for my outward appearance.

Namumu is in a very rural area. Needless to say, most of the people in the surrounding villages don’t put too much effort into getting dolled up every morning. Most everyone’s wardrobe options are pretty limited. It’s common to see people wearing the same shirt every day, or to rotate between two outfits every other day. This isn’t true for everyone, there are definitely some sharp dressers, but it’s true for a good number.

So, all this goes to say that I can get away with looking like crap some of the time and that makes me happy.

But don’t worry, folks, I keep myself put together for the most part. Esther Namuyamba (Munjongo’s wife) makes sure of that. She gives me a hard time if my hair isn’t combed or if my pants are dirty. Some days when I know I’m looking skuzzy and I see her coming I have to duck around the corner so she won’t see me. But don’t tell her I said that.

So, there you have it, apparently my appearance has changed quite a bit since I’ve been here. I can only imagine what they’ll be calling me in Lusaka if I’m still here walking around a few months from now…

A Zack Morris Wannabe and a Science Nerd

Zambia is a beautiful country and a wonderful place to live. Let me start with that.

Still, it is a developing country and, as a result, life within it can be filled with frustration after frustration. Corrupt government leaders, underperforming schools, lack of infrastructure, it all adds up to one big headache.

But every now and then I see something that makes me hopeful for the future. Just recently two particular cases have stood out in my mind.

First, there’s Eric. Eric is a bright young chap who lives just down the road from Namumu. He is around 10 and is a student at the Namumu Community School. In fact, his father is the hippo-slaying Zambia Wildlife Official I mentioned in a blog way back.

A few weeks ago, while on a supply run to Lusaka for Namumu’s carpentry workshop, I ran into Eric’s father in the city. He was carrying two giant bags packed with candy and Jiggies, flavored corn chips that are very popular among the children of the region.

I laughed and asked him if he was trying to fatten up his family. No, he told me, the bags were not for the family. They were for Eric.

Apparently, a few months ago Eric did some work for a neighbor, clearing away a large area for planting, and was paid K10,000 (around US$2.00). Instead of immediately blowing that money on toys/candy/some other useless junk, Eric took the K10,000 and decided to start his own little business venture. Keep in mind, this is a 10 year old.

He started small, buying just one bag of candy. Then, like a little African Zack Morris, Eric sold the candy amongst his friends from school, turning a small profit. He then took his earnings and reinvested it all, buying even more candy and a few packs of Jiggies, again selling them to his friends.

The cycle continued and now, a few months later, as his father travels to Lusaka to pick up his monthly paycheck he buys candy in bulk and transports it back for Eric to sell.

It’s oh so common in this world, and especially in Zambia, for people to live beyond their means, living off credit and on the verge of financial disaster. It’s nice to know that kids like Eric are around and are thinking ahead and showing an entrepreneurial flair. I think that boy has a bright future.

Then there’s Saliya, age 12, who lives in the house just next door to me (with Junior the Pooper). Saliya is also very bright and just the other day demonstrated to me that the schools around here are actually teaching a thing or two.

Most days, when I finish work at a reasonable hour, I wander over to my home and sit around on the front porch or in the back yard, reading or chatting or watching the sunset behind the nearby Baobab tree. Recently, Saliya, who also happens to be one of my loyal readers, has taken to firing question after question at me on topics ranging from US History to World Geography to Science to Medicine. She has a very active mind.

Actually, I’m not really sure if she doesn’t know the answers and wants to hear them from me or if she does know the answers and wants to test me. Either way, she keeps them coming.

The other day we had a chat about the positions of the planets, rotation vs. revolution and the history of the universe (you know, the light and casual conversations that everyone has in the late afternoons after work).

Much to my surprise, Saliya had a pretty good grasp on all of it. She then proceeded to tell me all about energy, and about the differences between, gravitational, potential and kinetic energy (which I already knew about because I was a physics teacher…no big deal).

It made me happy to see that there are some sharp kids around here, even if Saliya is beginning to border on becoming a geeky science nerd. Actually, Zambia could use more geeky science nerds, so that would be ok.

If you have any messages of encouragement for Eric or Saliya, let me know and I’ll send them along.

Pooped on Again, a Spear Fishing Re-do and Hijacking Plans

Wow. It is insanely hot here. Insanely hot. From about 7 am to 4 pm it is completely miserable. At all other hours it is only slightly less miserable. I don’t know if I will survive.

Although, the heat has afforded me the opportunity to stagger around with a carton of milk in my hand, drinking occasionally and proclaiming aloud, “It’s so hot out here…Milk was a baaaad choice.” Nobody’s gotten that one yet but I’m going to keep it up anyways because you know what? It’s funny to me.

Ahhhh, nobody gets me.

But enough with the complaining, here’s what’s been going on around Namumu lately…

Junior, the young boy next door (Innocent’s replacement) is growing up right before my eyes. I’ve seen him take his first steps and speak his first words. He gets cuter and fatter every day. His aversion to pants is still as strong as ever.

I really love that little guy, even though he pooped on me. Again. I picked him up the other day and boom, it happened. I should’ve seen it coming, though. I couldn’t even get mad at him. It’s like I always say, “Poop on me once, shame on you. Poop on me twice, shame on me.”

My army of girl readers is going strong and has even been growing as of late. Wendy is knocking out chapters of “Mercy’s Birds” like it’s her job. Vivian is stuttering less. So, if I don’t go insane from reading one crappy young adult novel after another things should keep on just fine.

I was visiting the Peters, two kapenta fishing camp owners I mentioned some time back, and they informed me that their son was returning from South Africa next week and is an expert spear fisherman. They told me to come over to fish with him sometime. Man, I’m excited. After my aforementioned fishing failures with Clivet aka the Sweater I am looking to step up my spear fishing game. I’ll keep you updated.

Our water system hasn’t broken down in a few weeks, so that’s nice.

Finally, I had an awesome follow up conversation with Zenzo, one of Namumu’s accountants, concerning local traditional marriage issues.

We were riding back from town in the Namumu vehicle. Wendy, my number one reader, was in the car, coming home from school. I had given her a newspaper to read through and she was asking me questions. She started reading an article about terrorism and plane hijacking.

“What does ‘hijacking’ mean?” she asked.

I started to explain to her when Zenzo cut in, saying, “You know, Sam, traditionally it is acceptable for a Tonga man, when he identifies a Tonga woman that he wants to marry, to get three or four large friends to “hijack” that woman, perhaps when she’s out drawing water, and to take her back to his home where he can negotiate with her family over the issue of marriage."

So, as it turns out, I might not even be needing the support money to buy a Tonga wife, I’ll only need three or four strong friends. And saving money is always good, right?