Any time from now . . .

meanHey, Hey, Hey,

Hi everybody! Thank you all for the emails and comments you've posted. I miss you all like WOAH.

So, I've had a pretty busy two weeks since I last informed everyone of my goings-on. Any time from now I will learn how to put some pictures up on this thing and give you all the visual experience. Everything will happen "any time from now" in Zambia. Time is elastic. The word for tomorrow is the same as the word for yesterday, Zambians live for today and the future is a really abstract concept for a lot of people in the village. When will we get that phone working? Any time from now. When will I get a lock for my injinga? Any time from now. You get the picture.

Okay, so I guess I should begin by saying my Bemba is picking up speed. I had my first language oral simulation exam on Friday and I got to tell the examiners all about uulupwa lwandi bekala ku America (my family live in America). Of course, I had to lie about your professions, because disc jockey, hair dresser, and social worker are all corruptable in Bemba. So Dad, you got to be a shing'anga (doctor), Jess you were a namutekenya (driver), and Tad you were a kafundisha (teacher). Anyway, I'm pretty sure that I passed with flying colors, and that is a very good thing. Oh yeah, I think that Tia was a nashi (nurse) too, because I didn't want to use kalaliki (office worker) twice. I showed them all my skills.

Last week I did not come into town to write to you all because I went to church with my phenominal bankashi (sister) Ruthie. Church was soooo long. 3 hours. The sermon was an hour and I totally zoned out because it was mostly in Bemba and I didn't understand. They made me stand up and introduce myself at the end and I gave it the old college try. My Bemblish is excellent as it turns out.

My biking is getting better. It is seriously uphill both ways to get to the training center in Mwekera. 15 clicks = about 9 miles and it takes an hour to get there. Each time is a little faster than the last. My first trip took forever because I had never had to ride in sand before. It is brutal. I don't know how the Zambians do it. We get American mountain bikes that can handle it if you know what you're doing, but Zambians have simple one-speed bikes loaded six feet high with sacks of ifyumbu (sweet potatoes).

Anyway, I've named by bike Cruiser, because on our maiden voyage to Mwekera two weeks ago, we hit a Peace Corps Land Cruiser driven, luckily, by the Peace Corps Medical Officer. Mom, do not be alarmed, you've talked to me twice since then, I'm obviously fine. It was a sandy patch that also happened to be the narrowest part of the road and a blind spot for cars coming around a corner. I tried to fall into the bush, but my bike pushed me the other way right into the side of the moving Land Crusier. I'm totally fine. I bruised my ankle and a bit of my sternum, but I've healed just fine, thanks to my trusty arnica gel.

Story number three: I had food poisoning this week. Gnarly details upon request. It was from a boerwors sausage that my bamaayo prepared (I thought nothing of it, it is the same sort of sausage I ate in Cape Town). I knew it was from that because the whole thing started with some really awful heartburn in the middle of the night, but I didn't want to get out of my sleeping bag and mosquito net to get the Pepto from my med kit. I woke up at 5am and I knew I was about to have some awful "runny tummy" as they call it in SA. As I said, details upon request. Anyway they've tried to serve the same sausage to me twice since then, and I have barely been able to look at it. In general, I have absolutely no control over my diet during homestay. I don't get veggies on any kind of regular basis. My bamaayo was giving me an amacungwa (orange) every morning for a few days, but that has become a distant memory. It turns out they grow rape (a cabbage that is prevalent here) in a garden that I just discovered yesterday. I don't know what they do with it. They also have an eggplant plant growing there, but I've yet to see eggplant on the dinner itabulo. Just the other day I was sitting outside working on my Bemba and a guy came up on his injinga and stopped in our yard. He handed my bamaayo two large sacks. I asked her if it was amataba (maize). She said no, they were ifyumbu (sweet potatoes). I haven't seen those yet either. I told her that I like umusalu (veggies) (not to be confused with umusula - a**hole - pardon my Bemblish). Perhaps any time from now I may get to eat some.

Oh, I also went to a Zambian funeral in my village this week. It was acutally really cool. Funerals last for about three days in the village. Family comes from all over the place and everyone in the village attends at least one of the evenings. There were probably 250 people in the yard at the home of the deceased, huddled around about 18 campfires. Six church choirs came and took turns singing and dancing. It was very pleasant and everyone seems to enjoy each other's company. They stay out all night (my friend Paul and I peaced out early at 22h00 (10pm for those of you on the twelve hour clock) and come back home at 5h00 (5am). The choirs sing all night. I could hear the whole thing from my bed.

Two nights ago my friend Katy's bamaayo showed up while I was eating dinner (I think it was scrambled eggs, that's what I usually have for dinner). She said that Ruthie and I had to come to her house to learn to dance. Ruthie said she did not want to go, but she also said that Ba Agnes is a good kafundisha. I decided that if Ruthie did not want to go, that maybe I didn't either, but she said it would be rude to refuse the invitation. We both went. Katy and Ginny, my fellow PCTs and neighbors in Kakolo were already there. I came in and they had me sit down on the couch. They put the table in front of the door and we were truly a captive audience. It was a private lesson, no males allowed. Four young ladies of about our age from the village were there to teach us to dance. They said it is very important for girls and boys to know how to dance in Zambia. The whole thing was totally sexual and made me sortof uncomfortable at times. It was interesting, and I was amazed. I should just say that I do not have the stomach muscles required to dance like a Zambian woman. There were hand gestures that we did not understand, and when we asked what it meant or why they did it they all replied that they would tell us tomorrow. I read it to mean the same as "We'll tell you when you're older."

So, the Fourth of July is coming up. I am sad to be missing the fireworks and symphony at Grafton. I hope all will enjoy. July 3rd and 4th are public holidays in Zambia too. Farmer's Day, and I don't know what the other one is. So on Tuesday I get to stay home with my bamaayo and learn how to keep house and what not. Then in the afternoon we are having a Cultural Day at Mwekera. Doc, one of our trainers is out hunting an impala to roast as I type this. It should be exciting. I guess there will be dancing and all kinds of stuff. Rumor has it we will get to try caterpillars and termites (as in we will get to eat them). Hopefully my stomach will be back up to par for the experience.

Well, I miss you all. Chad, thanks for the remedial Bemba help. Sean, I'm teaching people our handshake, it's a hit. Tad-guy, everybody loves your iPod, it is amazing what the shuffle will pick up on that puppy. Jenny, I've been doing my part to advertise GP and the knocks all over Zambia, you guys are huge over here. Kara and Meks, I'm learning all kinds of new sayings to bring back to you. Jess, it's apparently not cool here to ask a pregnant woman when she is due or to mention that she is pregnant, so pretend that I never asked, but I hear all is well. Mom and Dad, my bamaayo and bataata send their greetings and well-wishes, as do I. Tia, I am living that article you gave me, I'm a real fashion plate here. I just put on as many layers as I can in the morning and as I take each layer off I realize how ridiculous my outfit is, oh well. Aileen, I hope that the Peace Corps application process is going well, hang in there it's a long road. I'm told that Peace Corps Zambia has the lowest rate of drop-outs and the highest extension rate in the world. Come join us. Hey, if anybody has photos from home and or photos from my going-away party I would love to see them or receive them in the mail. That would be so awesome. And, if you're sending a package, I would love some dried fruit and nuts. I am on my way to Shop-Rite now to get some chocolate, the first I will have tasted in about a month. I'm pretty psyched.

Okay, this is costing me a fortune. Gotta go. Oh yeah, I might be getting a cell phone this week. I'll send the info your way.

Love you all to pieces and miss you like crazy. Love, LIBs