HomeSICK

It's finally catching up with me. I think I'm dying - not really, don't panic. Besides, just yesterday one of the CCS volunteers in the Moshi program fell off the top bunk and was safely med-evac-ed home, so I'm certain if my current fever and sore throat escalate, I'll be safe and sound in my own bed (wait, do I even have my own bed? I guess I mean Zoe's bed.) with Millie in no time.

The other most exciting stories:

1. A black kite (a large hawk/eagle/vulture-like African bird) swooped down while we were having lunch on safari yesterday and tried to steal Sanjay's sandwich. Luckily, Sanjay kept his sandwich, but he does have two large claw scratches on his arm from the scuffle. Of course, since then, rumor has spread among the volunteers about the incident. I believe the last I heard was that a pterodactyl bit him, that he overheated on safari and had to be med-evac-ed to Nairobi. Actually, that's a conglomeration of three exaggerated rumors - the black kite, the volunteer falling from her bunk and the overheating of our vehicle while we were on safari. (Yep, we were stuck for almost an hour, not really certain if we would ever actually leave Ngorongoro Crater while our guides poured water that exploded into steam on our 1,000,000-degree engine. More on that later . . .
2. Someone tried to mug Connie on the daladala (a small bus form of public transportation that generally holds about 30+ people with asphyxiating BO in a vehicle the size of a minivan). While two other volunteers exited the daladala (which Diane calls the dollydolly), a man held Connie by the arms and tried to rip off her hip-sack. Luckily, Nadia (a totally nice volunteer from the UK who works with Connie on her placement at Patandi School, a school for special needs students), hit the guy and Connie escaped without any losses other than her false sense of security. Connie's in her 60s, so I assume they thought she'd be an easy target. Little did they know who they were dealing with! She's one tough cookie.

Anyhow, since I last wrote, other than continuing to work at our placements, we've visited St. Lucia's Home for HIV/AIDS orphans and infected women, painted Shepherds Junior and went on a one-day safari to Ngorongoro.

At St. Lucia's, we played with the orphans, and visited the lone adult patient currently residing in the facility. She, I believe, was the saddest case of all, as she's laid on a mattress on the floor without speaking a single word for two years. As they described her situation, it was the first and only time I've been nearly moved to tears. Her husband abandoned her there and has since moved on, with her children (and likely her infection as well), to another wife. I have never been in the presence of someone so completely alone.

As we left, they shared some general information about the AIDS pandemic in Africa. The figure they shared was that in the small ward of Arusha they serve (called, I believe Mt. Meru or Moivaro), it is estimated that 32% of the adults are infected, and the number is rising despite their best efforts. (Of course, they said, the statistics are collected by multiple agencies without any clear central accountability or method, so there's really no telling.) While the Clinton Fund is currently providing free drugs to combat the disease, that funding is limited to two years, and they're not certain how they'll replace it. They said that the key reasons for the continued spread of the disease are shame, silence, and an unwillingness to even be diagnosed, a tradition of wife inheritance, especially among the Masai, which passes even the wives whose husbands have died of AIDS on to the husband's brothers, the continued practice of traditional medicine among practitioners who do not sterilize their instruments and equipment between patients (and, in many cases, who don't treat the disease but rather the "curse"), and religious rituals, like mass circumcision, which are practiced by using the same, uncleansed instrument on all participants.

On Friday afternoon, we also painted my school, Shepherds Junior. Nearly 20 volunteers went, plus Zungu, a local artist who works next door to our dormitory. On Friday morning, I asked him if he'd donate his time to help us that afternoon, and he agreed without hesitation. He's SO nice., and made our job SO much easier, since he helped us open the paint, mix it, you know, the stuff I'd have had no idea how to do. Instead of paint stirrers, he used sticks, instead of sandpaper, he used stones. He thinned all the paint, and walked with me to the local hardware store when we needed to procure additional supplies. Even the taxi driver who brought us there picked up a paint brush to help. It was awesome, and it turned out incredibly. On the outside, it's bright blue with bright red trim, and the three classrooms are light green, light blue and gold. I must admit, I was very proud to have organized the effort. I can't wait to see the kids faces when they return to find their formerly gray stucco classrooms newly brightened and glossy with a fresh coat of paint.

Zungu's even coming back with me this week while I paint so that he can add a mural to the front of the building. I can't wait! Even though he doesn't have much, he's SO generous with his time - he also teaches art, for free, to local children in his spare time. We learned that when our team of painters took him out to dinner at Big Bite after we were done renovating. The food was awesome (think Amber India in Mountain View awesome), and it was totally interesting to talk to him, too. He actually used to be a porter on Kiliminjaro before he became an artist, and he only completed primary school but speaks nearly impeccable English. Based on his Kili experience, he said that he had no doubt that Sanjay would make it to the top . . . but he wasn't so sure about me.

After our Big Bite feast, I immediately went to bed as we had to get up to leave for a 6am safari departure.

The next morning, we left in an I-just-know-this-thing-is-about-to-break-down-and-strand-us-in-BFE minivan. Beth and Tegan packed a TON of snacks (thank goodness) so we ate crackers, peanut butter and nutella the whole way. Jean also provided us with some seriously coveted M&Ms. As we drove, we shared our favorite Africa songs by passing around everyone's iPod. We listened to today's:

Songs of the Day

• Africa, by Toto - I know, I know, this was yesterday's song, too, but I probably listened to it 5 times yesterday, so I haven't managed to escape its grasp yet.
• Circle of Life, by Sir Elton John and from Disney's The Lion King. Actually, this song nearly makes me cry when I hear it and am driving through the edge of the Serengeti. How lucky can one girl be?
• Baba Yetu, which is the Swahili Our Father. I don't know who sings this, but Alex, a 19-year-old good Catholic boy from Canada, brought it and it is incredibly beautiful.
• Weeping, by Josh Groban with the South African group Ladysmith Black Mombazo. It's a song about apartheid.

Once we'd completed our nearly three-hour drive to Ngorongoro, which is a huge imploded crater in the earth in which alot of animals live, we stopped at the gate to use the restroom, pour water onto our already-nearly-overheated engine, and watch a troop of baboons steal lunches from the Range Rover parked beside our broken-down heap. Even the monkies knew which of us would have packed the superior lunch . . .

We continued our drive, and they opened the roof of the minivan for us to peer out at the multitude of cheetahs, waterbucks, elands, gazelles, impalas, zebras, lions, elephants, flamingos and birds of all shapes and sizes (the coolest one was the Sacred Ibis). Once we'd made about 1/2 of our trip around the massive crater floor, our vehicle, as suspected just gave out. We were stuck for about an hour, but eventually, after significant consternation and talk with our travel companion Jean about how she, as a Boulder park ranger, would have the skills and supplies to save us, the vehicle cooled down. Of course, the drivers were feverishly running back and forth to the nearest mud puddles to fetch the water with which to cool the engine.

After we continued, we stopped for a quick boxed lunch of a grated cheddar-like substance & butter on white bread sandwich with a bluish-colored hard-boiled egg and a green, flavorless orange. We drank black currant juice from boxes. Luckily, they included some sort of African Doritoes and hid two tiny candy bars at the bottom, which we each quickly gobbled up.

After lunch (which was at about 3:30), we started to drive from the crater and, because a rain shower was moving our direction, we started to get super cold. Tegan and Alex had to pee so bad, and I started to feel feverish, irritable and my throat was killing me. We drove with wind gusts of about 2-degrees and speeds of 1,000 mph for over an hour while I slowly felt sicker and sicker. I put on my bright pink raincoat to warm up, but to no avail. Finally, we reached the exit gate, and several of us literally raced to the bathroom.

The rest of the drive was extremely protracted as well, because they couldn't push the gas too hard for fear of us overheating again. It may have seemed even longer for Diane, Jean and Sanjay, as Beth, Tegan, Alex and I sang the entire way home without any accompaniment except for the iPods in our ears. They hated every single Jewel, Beach Boys, Billy Joel and Simon and Garfunkel song we massacred, but I actually think they liked our rousing rendition of today's final

Song of the Day:

• I Touch Myself, by the Divinyls, which seemed to be very well-received.

We also stopped on the side of the road for Tegan's pee-break as Maasai warriors wandered past and watched her in an area that had until that moment seemed entirely deserted.

As we drove into Arusha town, we begged to skip dinner, but our super-nice guide Naaz (a 22-year-old who's married to a former CCS volunteer) wouldn't allow it. He stopped and insisted, because of the vehicle problems, that he buy us each a dinner of fried chicken and chips (i.e., fries) at Steers, a local fast-food joint. The chicken had feathers all over, so I avoided it. The fries were good, though, and as I left the man cleaning our table said, "She likes fat, but not chicken." No shit, Sherlock.

Anyway, eventually, we got home. I've never been so grateful for a hard mattress on a bottom bunk in a room with water that runs only part of the time and is generally frigid, and supremely unreliable electricity that barely allows Sanjay to charge his camera. But last night I was grateful.

Actually, if I've learned anything at all here, it's really that we can subsist on so much less than we have . . .

I finally woke up, with a low temperature and a terribly sore throat at 2pm today. I didn't want to move, but I also didn't want to eat rice and beans for the 92nd time, so I left the dorm with Sanj and Diane. We walked through town, and, after I clumsily fell into a foot-deep hole on the sidewalk but completely avoided injury, we dined in style at Pepe's.

Pizza and Sprite has never tasted so good.

PS: Thanks for all the photos (especially you, Millie). In my current germ-ravaged state, I'm growing a little homesick, so every little bit helps . . . I'm hoping to recover by Saturday in time for our Kili climb. Sanjay is sick too ;(

PPS: Chooch, you are the cutest birthday boy ever!

Wetting the Bed

My roommate Diane used to be my friend. Yesterday, she wet my bed.

Actually, here's how it went down. Diane was sick and whiny and she took the whole day off yesterday while the rest of us went on a field trip past Kiliminjaro to Moshi. (Kili is f*%ing huge - I must admit I'm getting a little, okay a lot, terrified now. I've heard some serious horror stories and no matter how much Al Gore says the snow is melting up there, it still looks seriously white.)

Anyway, I mistakenly assumed that Diane's "day of rest" had allowed her to recover in full. And, when I went to bed on my bottom bunk, I playfully bounced her bed up and down - just enough to aggravate her. After my pestering, she sought retribution and dumped an entire liter of water on me in my jammies and on my already miserably uncomfortable mosquito-net suffocating bed.

I was soaked, and my bed still has not recovered. I'm quite certain my Swahili-only speaking maid is concerned about my incontinence problem. While these escapades went on, Connie, our "prim but mischievous" moo (we greet elders here with ShikaMOO, so we call the old girls, of which I'm now honorary because I'm not one of the coeds, MOOs for short) found a gecko on the wall and screamed like a six-year-old on a sugar-high for our neighbor "Sanchez" to save us from our insect invasion. (She can't remember and/or pronounce Sanjay's name, but I think it's appropriate that she's given him a Mexican nickname since he wants to name his first child Nacho.)

Sanjay ran over and threw the gecko toward Connie, who ran screaming from the room. He did, eventually, remove it. Finally, with the water spilt and the gecko exterminated, we were able to sleep soundly - except I was upside down trying to avoid the wet spot, and Diane whimpers in her sleep. I still like her, though ;)

To catch you up a little bit, we've been going to our placements most days, except for our field trip yesterday. The babies in my class are adorable - although my throat hurts from singing to them for hours a day -loudly - to get them to pay attention. I'm trying to teach them (along with their full-time teachers, Happy and Angel - how appropriate) letter A and number 0. So far, so good. I really adore them - My favorite is Mary. Everyone says she's mine, because she's the child with the lightest skin and she's also chubby like me. Today, she put my glasses on and she looked incredibly cute. She's 2 1/2. Of course, I have about a million favorites. Leah's another - she's older, maybe 10, in Class 3. I taught their math class the other day, and we held a little addition competition which she won. I cut her out a star from construction paper which said "I'm a Math Superstar". She was SO proud, she showed everyone and even put it on every day for the rest of the week. She's such a good girl.

I've also continued working on a fundraising plan for them, which has taken every free moment I have - and then some, which is, in part, why my postings have been so infrequent. But I really think it could help them to begin to raise the funds to continue to grow this school, so I'm committed to seeing it through. I'll be sure to share the plan once it's finished . . .

Tomorrow, we also plan to paint the three new classrooms that they just built in the back yard of the headmistress, Lucy. I can't wait to see the children's faces on Monday after they see what we have done.

Other than that, we went on a field trip yesterday, as I said, to Moshi, which is just past Mt. Kiliminjaro. We hiked down to an incredibly beautiful waterfall, saw a traditional home from the Chaga tribe, which was very interesting and looked like a tropical hut of some kind. (The Chaga people are originally from the Kiliminjaro area and, unlike the Masai, most no longer live traditionally but have substantially modernized.) We also saw some tunnels in which the Chaga hid from the Masai when the tribes battled over cattle (which they still do, sometimes). Then, we stopped for lunch at an outdoor buffet (yes, you read that correctly, a BUFFET) - where raw beef hung, nearly whole and definitely recognizable, next to the totally unpalatable beans, rice, okra, grilled chicken, noodles and beef mash that we ingested.

Later that day, I (I know this will be a surprise . . . ) suffered my first bout with diarrhea. Lucky, stupid me. Anyway, we made up for it by stopping at a supermarket on the way home where we bought Pringles and candy bars. I think I ate my weight in junk food - but, for those of you concerned about my weight loss, I did get up and jog this morning.

Not too much more to tell - we did play a rousing game of Celebrity (during which I was forced to charade "Pussy Galore") last night with Jean, a totally buff park ranger from Boulder - she couldn't stop giggling. I just love unstoppable laughter.

So, I'll end with that. I miss you all sooooooooo much, but we're doing just fine.

I hope your day ends, as mine did yesterday as a consequence of Jean's silliness and Diane's raindrops, with total joy and a bellyache from laughing too hard.

Songs of the Day:

• Africa, by Toto - which I haven't heard since I've been here but I CANNOT get out of my head;
• Faith, by George Michael, which I sing incessantly to a little girl named Faith in my class, who's also 2; and
  
• You are My Sunshine, which I heard my babies sing for the first time today during morning assembly (They sing for about 30 minutes every morning, all 110 of them together - it's really quite a beautiful way to start every day, to the sound of children singing. They must know a million songs.)
  

PS - Millie, thanks for your photo. I thought I couldn't possibly feel more guilty or miss you anymore. But after seeing that picture, I'm not so sure. You tell them to give you pizza and cookies for dinner and let you sleep in their beds. I promise I'm over half-way done now and I'll be home soon. I'll bring you a prize!!!

PPS - Zoe, I was thinking maybe Holland Elementary could be a "sister school" for Shepherds Junior, and you could be penpals with the children here and send them books, toys and school supplies that your school collects for them. Maybe you should ask your principal or teacher???
You'd just love them, and they could really use anything!!!! Pencils and paper are scarce (they actually ran out of pencils today, and couldn't find any to give one of the students), and some of the babies have never held a crayon!!! They LOVE stickers, even just little stars. Give it some thought, and let me know what you think! Ashlee - is there any sort of project the students in your program could do with the students or teachers here remotely???

PPPS - I know, we need pictures!!!!!! But the upload speed is simply overwhelming . . . Samahani, Pole, I'm so sorry - we're working out the glitches, I promise! You just have to see my babies!

Upendo Nursery

Here's a little bit about my placement:

I am a teacher at the Upendo Nursery, a small 2-classroom building walking distance from the dorm I am staying at. It has 14 kids right now between the ages of 3 and 6 but should have closer to thirty kids by next week. The kids here are adorable! They are these tiny little munchkins who run up and hold my hand as soon as I am in sight of the playground outside the school. They go to this school because they can't afford to go to the more expensive schools in town - they only pay $1 a month so that they can get porridge at lunchtime. (If they can't afford that, the family that runs the nursery pays for it with their own money.) The family is a preacher, his wife and their son Daniel who is the children's primary teacher. He is great with the kids, sometimes I wonder if he really needs our help but he says he does.

The work itself is pretty kickback - I teach them the alphabet, sing songs, and play with them. I guess I didn't know what to expect but working with them is pretty easy, I get to the school in the morning around 8:30, start lessons at 9:00, teach until about 10:15, and then let them play in the yard while we (Hilary, my fellow volunteer from Santa Cruz) go have Chai with Daniel. The children have their porridge served around 11:00 and then we walk them home shortly thereafter. I know I am having a great time with the kids but then I feel like I am not doing enough or not being utilized enough. I'm trying to do additional things like conduct Engligh lessons for some of the adults and helping Stacey with her work stuff. I still feel like I am constantly doing things and am exhausted, but I don't know how much of that effort is truly beneficial to anyone.

I actually got yelled at yesterday by one of the staff at dinnertime because almost all of the volunteers did not attend a scheduled 30 minute presentation about the Tanzanian education system. In front of everyone she said how disappointed she was and then she called out my name and said that as the leader, this was on me. (I didn't attend the presentation either because we had a 2-hour window before the presentation and Stacey and I needed to go into town to buy with our own money the paint and supplies we needed to paint Stacey's school.) Needless to say, I was upset; this seems to be the main issue I have with this volunteer program - it is way too structured and you have no real free time to do any personal items, much less any real work. I understand that you have to structure a full day of activities for the 18 and 19 year olds among us but for us adults, just give us the latitude to be effective.

Anyways, I have to run back to the ranch for another meeting but I really can blog for hours straight, there is so much to say (I think Stacey is writing about our trip to the Masai village right now so stay tuned for that - it's great stuff.) We hope you are all doing well and I can't believe how sad Millie looks - I think we'll have to bring her back an elephant tusk as a bone for her to chew on.

(I just found out today that the Colts and the Bears would be playing in the Super Bowl - how awesome is that! And a special thank you goes out to Win-Champion who is tivo'ing 24, my favorite TV show for me.)

Mzungu Mwalimu

Mzungu = Foreigner
Mwalimu = Teacher

I am both now. I'd apologize again for the lapse in communication but it really is totally unavoidable. You cannot possibly imagine the situation in which I currently write. It's actually amazing that there's a computer at all. Near our "compound" is Tengeru Village. The internet facilities are here. I cannot possibly describe to you the conditions outside the doors. It reminds me somewhat of a ghost town from the southwest - dusty and crumbling with chickens wandering the narrow loose gravel alleyways aimlessly. There's a key difference, however. The place is entirely kinetic - tailors sew on their porches, tiny children play independently, and many people wander the dirt paths that cross back and forth in no seeming organizational scheme. As they pass one another, they greet one another without fail - Shikamoo ( I respect you), Hujambo (Hello) and Habari (How are you?) must pass the lips of each individual one thousand times. Completely unlike the fast, ignoring Americans who pass one another at strip malls.

As energetic as the village is today, it is even moreso on market days - Wednesdays and Saturdays, when you can't even move for all the people. There are second-hand clothes and shoes stacked four feet high (which we've been told are mostly stolen from packages bound to Africa from well-meaning European and American donors), and a farmers market is crowded with individuals selling their bananas, mangos, dried fish - whatever they have - to make a pittance to feed their families. It's incredible. Hopefully, I'll be able to post pictures at some point, but everyone's advised us never to take pictures in the market because either a) our camera will be stolen or b) anyone in the general direction of our photo will expect to be paid a commission.

The small internet shop in which I reside is set in the midst of this place. It's almost incomprehensible to imagine that we're even in the same century as the internet was invented given our surroundings, but here I sit in the midst of total irony. That said, we are talking about a dial-up connection slower than the pony express, but there is something. I am sitting next to two small local boys whose father is giggling while watching them play a game in which President Bush and Condoleeza Rice are armed and defending themselves from potential assassins in the oval office. Small World.

Anyway, I came to the village to write to you about my volunteer experience so far. It's probably good that I've waited 4 days in to write this, because I've had the opportunity to see and feel a little more. Hopefully, I can find the words to describe it.

I am a teacher a Shepherds Junior Academy, a local primary school that has 6 classes; Baby Class (ages 2-3), Nursery Class (ages 3-4), Pre-Unit (Kindergarten), and Classes 1-3, which seem to generically correspond to our grade structure. I am in the Baby Class. These children are perhaps the cutest I have ever seen, snotty noses and all. Of course, I understand nary a word they are saying as, at this age, they speak almost exclusively Swahili. My favorite is probably Eliza, a little girl who sits near the back of the class and constantly says one of the few words I know to describe her perception of my degree of comprehension of the Swahili language - kidogo or "just a little." Of course, there's also Damares, Prisca, Melania, the two Charities, Collins, Faith and Jordan. All of them have the brightest eyes I've ever seen. They sing incessantly. My personal favorite:

Be happy, be happy before you die. (Come On!)
Be happy, be happy before you die. (Come On!)
My friend is ___________. She's a girl.
Shake-a your body before you die. (Come On!)

(In hearing from some of my fellow volunteers at local HIV orphanages and hospitals, death is much nearer to them than it ever is for American children. Just today, three of our volunteers attended a funeral service for an 8-year-old girl from St. Lucias who died not from her HIV infection, but from chicken pox that spiked a fever and, from the perspective of one of the volunteers, killed her from dehydration as they have no facilities to deliver IV fluids and have no time or resources to ensure the children drink a sufficient amount of clean water.)

As for my new favorite song, they clap along and they shake their little hips and dance during the last line if we've called their names. And we try to sing it for as many of the children as we can before 2-year-old booties can no longer sit still (and whose names we know - the teachers don't even know some of the children's names!) Of course, once they can no longer sit still, the teachers tell them to sit quietly and they pass out one stuffed animal to each child to play with independently. You should see these toys. The eyes are all gone and the stuffing hangs out on every single one. But they may have no toys at home, so they love them, and rock them like tiny babies.

Zoe, when I get home, we are cleaning out your closet and mailing them here.

There's a schedule on the wall that says what we're supposed to be doing when, but it seems to be completely irrelevant, at least this week, as it's the first week of school and our head teacher - Teacher Happy - is not feeling well at all. In fact, on my first day, she was not present and on our second day, she slept all day on the floor in the back of the room trying to recuperate. As she did, her assistant teacher (Teacher Angel) and I attempted to keep 33 2-year-olds entertained, quiet and sitting in their seats. It was a nearly impossible feat. The classroom is so small that you can't even get to the children for fear of stepping on another one. It's truly incredible.

Actually, though, I suppose I'm kind of surprised by how little I'm surprised. In truth, the school seems just like an American school with FAR fewer resources. It's not what we've got, but I do believe the children are learning and are cared for by their teachers. (This, in fact, may be the greatest lesson I take home: it's not so much that they have too little, though that's true - but it's become clear that we have far, far too much. And we've lost sight of the important stuff for all the material bullshit. For them, families, neighbors, friends and relationships are still clearly the most important.)

They have no crayons, balls, jump ropes, desks, toys, teaching aids, computers, text books, a/v equipment, etc. Even pencils and paper are terribly scarce. A teacher from another classroom came to our room today searching, in vain, for a pencil. I brought crayons in for the children to color an apple (a sound for apple!), and one little boy cried because he didn't know how to color - it seemed that many of them had never held a crayon before. I'd love to see an American teacher attempt to teach in this environment. This morning, for instance, I hand wrote out the letter a, instructions, the date, and 10 dotted a's to trace in 33 notebooks; in a separate 33 notebooks, I wrote the date and instructions and drew an apple for each child to color. Photocopying is simply too expensive. They work hard - an the teachers make only about 70-80,000 shillings (or about $60-65) per month for their efforts.

In addition to my work with the children, I've been working with the former-poultry-business-owner-turned-headmaster Lucy to develop a capital plan to raise funds to expand her school and start an associated orphanage. I believe this is actually where I may do the most lasting good. Lucy is a good woman who started this school. From everything I've seen and heard, she's done an incredible job given her limited resources.

You can bet that I'll be asking each of you to contribute to her fundraising efforts - I'll let you know more after my plan is complete . . .

Sanjay is at Upendo Nursery, a school for 2-6 year olds. He seems to like it, and I'm sure he'll post later with some details. Right now, he's teaching English to the school's staff.

Both of us are enjoying ourselves, but there definitely seems to be something critical missing. I was interviewed today for a PBS special about voluntourism. They asked whether I felt like I was doing "good." I really don't know. Here's how I feel: It feels good to have babies run to me, hold my hands and kiss me. It feels good to hug them and play with them. But, in all honesty, I feel like I'm getting more out of the experience than they are. I SO want that to be different, and I'm hoping that my fundraising plan is a step in the right direction, but I just don't know . . . some of the volunteers and I are also planning to paint some of her classrooms, so at least I'll leave some mark behind, I suppose.

This weekend, we're headed into Arusha for dinner and tomorrow we'll be camping in a Masai village. We'll be sure to catch you up upon our return. You can continue to expect our updates to be somewhat sporadic . . .

PS: I haven't had time to proof, but wanted to get you an update, so sorry for any necessary edits!

PPS: I'll also get some pictures as soon as I can - you've got to see these babies!!!!

Who Says White Girls Can't Jump?

I have to catch you up on our last few days in Kenya. They were truly fantastic.

But first, quickly, a VERY happy 8th birthday to my favorite niece, Zoe. I miss you, short stack, and I'll see you very soon. I have some VERY fun presents for you!

And now, back to our show:

After we wrote last, we spent just the night in Nairobi. We ate, mistakenly, and expensively, at the American Southwestern restaurant called the "Spur". We had nachos and fajitas. Not good. Very bad. But we were, admittedly, too scared to leave the hotel at night. And, nachos sounded good. I'm sorry but Nairobi is a disaster, it's probably the armpit of Kenya. It smells like toxic fumes have engulfed the city and it is complete chaos; if any of you are ever going to safari in the Masai Mara and you have to go through Nairobi, don't spend any more time in Nairobi than you have to.

Oh, we forgot to mention the notorious "blister beetle" that one of our fellow guests fell victim to at Jao camp. Apparently, the blister beetle is a beetle with yellow or red marking that when it comes in contact with human skin (it just has to sit on you) will secrete some nasty toxin that will create a huge, red, itchy spot that actually grows in size but here's the kicker, if you touch the red spot and then touch another part of your body, that area too will be affected. Needless to say, poor Pam had these huge nasty red spots on both of her legs and everybody seemed to offer different advice as to how to cure the rash. I'm not sure how she'll explain this to her doctor back home...

Anyway, we woke up the next morning, and went for a short drive through the center of the city so that Sanjay could pick up some camera equipment that we forgot to pack. (Yeah - I can upload my pics for you!) While I waited in the car with the guide, two men came up to the car looking for jobs. Unemployment is a huge issue in the city. I asked about wages, and my guide said that less than $100 a month was a common wage for factory workers, while those in the tourism industry make about $200 a month. To send a single child to private school (and public schools are, apparently a nightmare) costs $100 a month, and the least expensive 1-room accommodation in the worst neighborhood in Nairobi costs $30/month, while a 1-room accommodation in a middle class neighborhood costs about $70 a month.

We caught our flight from a small airport on a small plane. Actually, it had a full 15 seats. Compared to the earlier flights between Botswana and Zambia - which were on 6-8 seat planes fully equipped with the interior - and probably engine - of a 1972 Chevy Nova. So, I was comfortable, not nauseous and grateful.

Once we arrived, we were picked up by our Masai guide, Timothy, and transported to the amazing Bateleur Camp, perhaps our favorite lodge of all. Immediately, we were led to a truly sumptuous meal created by our fabulous chef, Meshack. We love him. Our first meal started with a chile lime vegetable broth, followed by a grilled pork with Thai noodles with a side of Eggplant Salad. I actually loved the eggplant, so Meshack gave me the recipe:

Eggplant Salad
(For 50 - Do I have that many friends?)

• 15 medium size Japanese Eggplant, cut into large cubes and salted to drain the water from them
• Oil To fry them in
• 4 cups Balsamic Dressing

Drain the cubes for 30 minutes. Deep fry them for 1 minute in VERY hot oil to seal them. Put them in a roasting pan and finish cooking them. Toss them with dressing - refrigerate and serve.

I think it may have actually been the fact that the fact that the eggplant was grown in Meshack's garden, which he toured with us, and which was tended by the gardener Peter, with tremendous pride and TLC. We actually signed a guest book to tour the small garden:)

We ended that meal with a dessert of fresh pineapple spears with a cardamom caramel saucy. Fricking fantastic. Meshack was amazing.

Enough about food, I know what you've all been waiting to hear about, I just have two words for you: "Cheetah Kill". We witnessed a cheetah (named Honey) along with her three male cubs hunt and ambush a pack of Thompson's gazelle. We had front row seats to the action as our tracker called out the play by play. Once the cheetahs were in range (about 50 meters) to the gazelle, we saw Honey emerge from the tall grass at full speed and chase down one of the gazelle at the back of the herd. I can't even begin to describe to you how fast that cheetah moved. It looked like the gazelle were moving in slow motion as this lean, long blur quickly closed the gap between them. Honey then leaped onto the back of one of the tailing gazelle and chomped on to its neck. While she clung on to its neck, her three cubs ran to her and began to feast on the gazelle that was still slightly moving. (All of the squeamish can skip this paragraph now.)

The cubs started to pull at the tough hide of the gazelle for a few minutes and it finally came off and they all (including Honey) began to feast on the insides of the gazelle. All you could see was these four cheetah huddled closely over this carcass (which you couldn't really see except for the occasional shot of some internal organ as the cheetahs moved to choicer pieces of flesh) and the sounds of bone and flesh being crunched and chewed. Oh, and the cheetahs faces were covered in blood. It was disgusting but at the same time none of us could turn away. And these cats eat fast; apparently hyenas and lions will steal their kill away if they happen to see it.

As the cheetahs ate, a herd of wild buffalo were making their way in the direction of the feasting cats. One of the male buffalo spotted them and pointed its snout forward towards the kill. It started sniffing the air and our guide informed us that the buffalo have smelled the carcass and think that one of their own has been killed and they are not too happy about it. All of a sudden, a few of the buffalo started to walk directly to the cheetahs in an offensive posture. As the buffalo got to a few feet away from them, one of the male cubs got up, hunched his back (to make himself appear larger) and charged the encroaching bulls. The four bulls ran off in what looked like a very comical scene. Then, a larger herd of the buffalo (about twenty) charged the cheetahs and chased them off of the carcass. Some of the buffalo had a few young with them and they slowly sniffed the ground and walked directly to the carcass and began to sniff it intensely, as if to find out whether "Uncle Bob" had been eaten. The buffalo finally left and the cheetahs returned again to finish their meal.

At this time, two jackals appeared from the brush and watched the carcass. Jackals are fierce scavengers and are pretty bold; these two jackals walked right up to the kill while the cheetahs weren't paying attention and almost snagged a bit of meat when one of the cubs spotted it and immediately chased it away. It was funny to see this cheetah chasing this runt of a dog over and over again across the plain. Anyways, the cheetahs bellies began to bulge and we left them to their meal.

And now, back to the food. For dinner that night, we had stir fry steak and shrimp that Meshack cooked himself right in front of us. We chose our own sauces and ingredients. Yum. He followed it off with a spectacular chocolate pate with a passion fruit puree. I know, I know, enough with the Martha Stewart bullshit, but I wish I could convey to you just how beautifully this man crafted every meal.

The next morning Timothy brought us some jewelry that his wife had made, so we purchased some Masai gifts - if you're lucky, we might just have something for you. Then, we went on a fairly uneventful morning game drive - no major sightings, although I'll inventory everything we saw later on. What was exciting about the drive was learning about a million fascinating facts about the Masai from Timothy. I was, perhaps, more inquisitive than most, but I cannot describe just how transfixed I was learning about their culture and traditions. Here's what I learned:

• The Masai live in very small villages. Timothy's village has 80 people. Most of them are related or very close.
• They have no running water nor electricity. As we drove in, we saw Masai women bathing in the stream. Timothy said that electricity was actually not very interesting to them, but they'd very much like running water so that they don't have to drink from and bathe in the same water as the animals.
• They live, almost exclusively, on cow's milk mixed with cow's blood. They occasionally have meat, but almost never vegetables. Timothy was very clear that they DO NOT farm at all, and said that their cows are considered a blessing from God. If someone eats wild game instead of the cows sent from God, they are shunned by the community.
• Hunting is strictly illegal on the Masai Mara, but the Masai still hunt lions for sport, to prove their bravery. The most brave warrior during the hunt gets to keep the mane of the lion, which he'll wear in ceremonies. The second most brave, which Timothy was, is marked with matching knife wounds in both arms, and receives a headdress of ostrich feathers
• The men, at least, seem as much associate with their "age group" as they are with their families. They go through the rite of circumcision together around the age of 15, and seem bound together for life. As for the circumcision, it is performed by an elder with a knife, and if you flinch, you are known for life to be a coward, and are given only a common-bird feathered headdress. If you are brave, however, you receive a headdress made from the feathers of the most beautiful birds on the Mara. (By the way, Mara is the Masai, or Maa, word for "spotted", as the plains of the Masai Mara are speckled with Acacia trees.
• Female circumcision is still practiced, around the age of 13, although many in the community, including Timothy, are working to end the practice. He said that in many cases the girls themselves wanted to participate in the ritual, for the sake of tradition.
• They are polygamists. Men have anywhere from 1-3 wives, depending on how many dowries they can afford.
• They are Christian. But Timothy had never heard of Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. Their traditional religion was monotheistic as well, and Timothy says it simply is not that different, at its core, from Christianity.
• They're semi-nomadic, and Timothy's village has only been in its current location for about 4 months. They move around to find new food and water sources for their cattle.
• The cattle sleep in a sourt of atrium covered with dung within the confines of a fence that encircles the two rooms in the house, where the humans sleep.
• They don't use a calendar. Timothy did not even know what his birthday or precise age is, and the Masai do not celebrate birthdays. That said, we did hear the Masai sing a song of "Happy, Happy" to someone celebrating a birthday. They simply sang the word "happy" over and over again. Very fun.
• The primary jobs for women are jewelry making and beekeeping. Actually, our guide is very interested in setting up a website to sell the jewelry from the women in his village. We let him know that we had some friends in the States who might be willing to help him set up a quick ebay site to sell the jewelry - let us know if anyone's interested in helping out our Masai friend!

After our morning of Masai inquisition, we sat down again for one of Meshack's delicacies. He fed us:

Moroccan Bisteeya
Serves 6

2 cups butter, melted into Ghee
1 cup onion, chopped finely
8 diced chicken thighs, chopped or shredded finely + 1 cup chicken stock
1/2 cup dried apricots, finely chopped
1/2 cup blanched almonds, chopped
2 teaspoons of ground cinnamon + 1 teaspoon extra
3 teaspoons toasted and ground cumin
1 teaspoon turmeric
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 cup Greek Yoghurt
4 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped and 1/2 cup chopped coriander leaves
10 large sheets phyllo pastry
Salt & Ground black pepper
3 tablespoons icing sugar and the extra teaspoon cinnamon

1. Preheat the oven to 180C. Heat 25g of the butter in a pan; gently fry the onion until pale and golden. Add the chicken, chicken stock and all spices. Cook gently until done.
2. Stir in the apricots and cook for a further 2 minutes. Remove from the head and cool. Shred the chicken (we had it chopped, though, and I prefer that, I think). Season to taste with salt and pepper, then add parsley and coriander. Beat eggs and yogurt together and add.
3. Melt the remaining butter. Unroll the phyllo pastry. Keep the pastry sheets covered with a clean, damp dish towel to prevent drying.
4. Line the bowl with 3 layers of the pastry sheets. Spoon in the chicken mixture. Sprinkle with almonds, 1 teaspoon icing sugar and cinnamon. Fold up edges of bottom sheets in a rough pattern (to enclose the chicken in a pastry puff). Brush with butter.
5. Crumple the remaining pieces and place them on the top of each pie, then brush over any remaining melted butter. Bake the pie for about 20 minutes, until the pastry is golden brown and crisp. Serve pie hot or cold, dusted with the remaining cinnamon and sugar.

The recipe isn't exactly clear on a couple of things - he made individual pies, and I think this is for one larger pie, so you might have to experiment a little - but it tastes FANTASTIC. Again, it's probably best with herbs from Meshak's garden. When he presented his recipes to us, they were rolled with a sprig of fresh rosemary, and he signed them - "Thank you for coming - Chef Meshack".

That night, we went on a game drive again. Timothy told us we were going for a night drive, and drove us around to the Mara River. One thing about the Masai Mara is that it can get cold very quickly. The weather is extremely unpredictable; within a matter of minutes, it can go from rain to really hot to really cold and windy. Needless to say, when the sun went down, it was really cold and windy especially when driving around in an open Range Rover. Also, my allergies were killing me. There is so much pollen in the air that I could not stop sneezing, thank God for Stacey's packing every medicine known to man because the Benadryl sure did the trick.

So as we went on our drive, we got to a spot with firelit torches behind a thick set of trees. We came to a clearing and saw a tent setup with dining tables, the chef at a huge barbecue rack, and even a bar setup; all lit by torches. It was awesome - and a complete surprise! After getting a few cocktails, I heard what sounded like a hippo call very close by (hippos come out of the water and feed at night and you don't want to be anywhere near a hippo). The hippo sound came closer and closer and then all of a sudden we heard blood-curdling screams all around us which scared the crap out of all of us. Then a group of about 15 Masai warriors appeared and started to sing and dance for us. (Actually, if you must know, I was in the zip-up tented port-o-let just pulling down my pants and nearly wet myself as I thought I heard a hippo closing in on me. I quickly pulled up my pants to see what the hell was going on.)

After a few circle dances and songs, the Masai began a traditional jumping competition in which each Masai warrior jumps to see who can jump the highest and win the respect of the other warriors. At this point, one of the warriors grabbed Stacey by the hand and led her into the jumping competition. Stacey immediately leaped into the air, graceful and majestic. It was like watching a cheetah bound through the Mara, or like Michael Jordan performing one of his mind-blowing, tongue sticking-out, dunks. Everyone at the camp (including the warriors) were awestruck by what they were witnessing. (I admit that I didn't think it could happen but white girls can definitely jump.) Being the vigilant photographer that I am, I caught a picture of this impressive display of agility and athleticism, in mid-leap mind you. (I will be selling a limited number of these prints in case you are interested in a poster-sized version of this once in a lifetime occurrence.) After her solo, each warrior grabbed one of us and led us in the dance.

After a fabulous dinner of barbecued chicken, ribs, lamb and a dessert of fried bananas with caramel sauce, we departed back to our lodge accompanied by an armed warrior. (Apparently, a lion had been wandering through our camp and this was a safety precaution.) We saw a couple of hippos with the spotlight but nothing else too terribly interesting.

The next morning, we went for an early game drive leaving at 6:30 in the morning. The roads out were especially wet and muddy today. After driving around for about an hour, our third passenger spotted something sitting in a tree. It turned out to be the elusive Mara leopard. (It is extremely rare to see the leopard out here.) We followed it around as it sneaked through the tall grass. It was extremely wild and did not want to be photgraphed at all. It finally leaped across the road and disappeared.

We drove further and, due to a rainy season that's lasted much longer than usual, we were splipping and sliding all over the road. It was actually kind of fun. Until we almost missed our flight out to Tanzania. We slid off the road into a ditch, and Timothy politely asked us to get out of the Land Rover and onto the leopard, cheetah, lion and hyena-filled Mara. As it turns out the animals were not to fear. The mud, however, was another story. We literally sunk about 6 inches into a thick, black muck that splashed onto our departure clothes as we walked away from our vehicle. Fortunately, we both avoided another pant count deduction. But barely. After another car (gari, in Swahili) came and pulled Timothy out, we returned to the lodge, caught a quick breakfast, and were off to the air strip for our departure.

Before we left, Timothy gave us each a very special bracelet that his wife had made for us. As we boarded our flight, and continued our takeoff, he waved and blew us kisses. I knew our safari was ending, and I almost cried.

Despite predicted rains everywhere in our path, the sun has shone brightly on every step of our journey so far - here's hoping the same is true in Tanzania.

PS: Here's a summary of what we saw on the Masai Mara -

• Mammals: Thompson Gazelle, Grant's Gazelle, Giraffe, Topi Antelope, Warthogs, Cheetah, Silverback Jackal, Cape Buffalo, Waterbuck, Eland, Heartbeast Antelope, Spotted Hyena, Elephant, Olive Baboon, Hippo, Crocodile, Zebra, Leopard

Birds: Ostrich, Cattle Egret, Black Stork, Egyptian Goose, Secratarybird, African Whitebacked Vulture, Tawny Eagle, Longcrested Eagle, African Crowned Eagle, Black-chested Snake Eagle, Dark Chanting Goshawk, Red-Necked Spurfowl, Gray Crowned Crane, Black-bellied Bustard, Speckled Mousebird, Cinnamon-chested Bee-eater, Lilac-breasted Roller, Southern Ground Hornbill, Crowned Hornbill, Yellow-Throated Longclaw, Red-faced Cistacola, Gray-backed Fiscal, Common Fiscal, Superb Starling, Red-Billed Oxpecker, Fan-tailed Widowbird, Fin-tailed Whydah, African Citril, Cinnamon-breasted Bunting

Safe & Sound

Just a quick check-in to let you know we've made it to Tanzania. We're going out for a drink - so we'll catch up tomorrow! I've got so much to tell you about our time with the Masai . . .

The Unbearable Whiteness of Being

Boy am I white.

We've reached our hotel in Nairobi, Kenya. Between the airport and here, there were many, many people walking and a ton of traffic on our nearly 45-minute drive. But I saw only one other white person. One. I know, I'm in Africa, but it still feels strange. I'm just not used to so blatantly sticking out in the crowd.

The city is chaos. While everywhere else we visited has had a beautiful scent, this place wreaks of environmental toxins - especially rubber and petroleum.

As for the scenery, imagine a dense urban area built entirely without a city planning department. A tire factory stands next to a furniture store stands next to a pasture filled with cows stands next to small shanties built as homes stands next to a park stands next to people lying on the sidewalk. It's incredible.

We're just here on a layover, so there's not much to tell. We don't plan to leave our hotel. This is the only place we'll visit where there's an active, applicable State Department warning, so we're not taking any chances. (Aren't you proud, Mom?)

We also had a layover last night in Johannesburg at the Intercontinental Airport Sun, a super nice hotel where I satiated my craving for familiar flavors with a room service meal of pesto pasta.

To be honest, I miss control over my own food supply. I like to be able to choose what I'm going to eat and when - it makes me feel entirely out of control. It also makes me shove whatever I can down my gullet whenever I can (like the chutney potato chips we had at the airport this morning with a banana muffin in the South Africa Airways lounge) to avoid the potential of being hungry later and having either nothing or something that tastes bland, boring or yucky.

We're off to the hotel restaurant now, and we leave first thing in the morning. Hopefully our Botswana and Zambia posts keep you interested for a while, as we're headed tomorrow to Bateleur Camp. If we can't reach you from there, we'll catch up once we find an internet cafe in Tanzania.

Don't worry, Mom, we're safe!

Reclaiming My Voice

So, as expected, no internet at Jao Camp. Thank God. We awoke at 5:30 every day to begin our game drives, and our night game drive, which was followed by supper and drinks around the campfire, didn’t end until 8 or 9pm – so sleep has been at a premium. I did, however, get just enough rest to reclaim my voice, which was missing for nearly 5 full days.

That said – what a beautiful place. If Cape Town smelled of the warm sea, and Zambia smelled of clean, pure air, Jao smelled like earth – in some places mud, and in others hot, dry sand.

The architecture of the camp was beautiful, the Okavango Delta was pristine, though dry for this time of the year. And the animals were incredible. I’ll give you a full inventory later, but suffice it to say that we saw over 70 species there, thanks in full to our insane guide, David. It was like being with Mowgli out of the Jungle Book or something. Every track, every scent, every bird’s call, every signal, every plant, every tree, every termite mound – you get the point – he knew it all as if he was one of the animals that lived in this majestic place and was the translator for them all. Simply fascinating. (One interesting fact: If antelope know a predator is nearby, they’ll stick up their tails to show the white underneath, which silently warns other animals nearby that there’s danger afoot. It also showed David where to look for the lions.)

In one instance, he saw three sets of leopard tracks pointing in opposite directions, and knew immediately (and, it turns out, correctly) that a female leopard (nicknamed Beauty) had hidden her kill in one thicket, and had left it there while she went to fetch water from a nearby watering hole. He drove our Land Rover straight to the cat – and we then followed her back to the thicket he had predicted where she feasted on an antelope she’d hunted two nights before. The thicket was abuzz with the sound of swarming flies and crunching antelope bones and smelled strongly of rotting flesh. Nasty – but very interesting, nonetheless.

Though I don’t believe we forged any lasting relationships at the camp other than David, we did meet the managers – two white South African couples – Chris & Tara and Freddy & Marianne. Marianne’s family was also there. Her parents were chicken farmers from Cape Town, and her 33-year-old brother, Francois, was there as well. While I’m not certain what he does for a living, I do know that he was scrumptious, had a beautiful accent, and could identify the stars and constellations and, from those, could point to true north. (For those of you men reading along, that last quality is very masculine and incredibly sexy . . . ) Also at the camp were a group of half a dozen Germans who never spoke to us, and two other American couples – one set honeymooners from Manhattan, and the others, Pam and Bernard, were from San Francisco (literally about ½ a mile from Sanjay).

At camp, we were fed incessantly. There was breakfast at 6, tea around 9, brunch at 10:30, high tea at 4, sundowners at 6:30 and dinner at 8ish. For as much as they fed us, there was nothing very good, nor very local in flavor. We did have cake at 4pm everyday with tea, so I suppose I can’t complain too much. On our last evening, we did have one pretty yummy local dish – seswaa & pap – which is a chopped marinated beef with a tomato onion relish served with a thick maize porridge that’s traditionally used as a hand-held pocket with which to eat the meat. Sanjay’s favorite was the dessert at last night’s meal, a date bread pudding, which was pretty nice. While we ate outside under a sky full of more stars than I believed possible, the staff serenaded us with local music and dance. That, I did love.

One thing bothered me about this particular camp. The managers, as I said, were whites from South Africa, while the staff were blacks from Botswana. Again, segregation. David, who I introduced before as our guide, works at the camp for three months at a time, then returns to his family of 4 children for 21 days. It is, for him, quite a sacrifice to provide a better life for them. He is looking for a small business loan so that he can start up his own business in transportation or tourism – but he has no collateral.

Which brings me to something that has been stuck in my brain since I arrived: how can I – or anyone – really help? So far, it seems like the most common American responses in places like Africa have been imperialism and/or proselytism. Make them American or make them Christians – much as we did with our own Native Americans. It seems simplistic, shortsighted and incredibly arrogant. What seems preferable are programs that educate and empower the people of Africa to build upon their own heritage and define their own destiny. For instance, loans for local entrepreneurs to build businesses in their own communities. And schools that educate people on all of the options – political, social, cultural, religious, etc. – as well as creative thinking skills so that Africans can thoughtfully decide what they want to become.

It’s interesting. One night at the dinner table, we were discussing Oprah’s school for girls in Johannesburg. (This keeps coming up . . . ) In any case, many local people seem upset that she spent, I believe, $40 million, to educate 152 girls; the argument is that she could have spent less per student and provided schooling for many times that number of children. The world really does suffer from an epidemic of small thinking. I applaud Winfrey’s choice. In order to build a future for this continent, Africa’s children must be exposed to every potential idea. Their educations cannot be limited – they must be broad and intense. It will take exposure to every possibility, and the ability to imagine the impossible – to build the Africa in which these girls will want to raise their own children.

Enough of my musings, though I’m sure much more is to come once I reach Arusha . . .

Other than the staff, at Jao we had no interaction with the local people, flavors or culture – only the animals and their habitats which did, in fact, make for a fascinating 4 days in and of themselves. Want to know what species we saw? Let’s do a quick run-through:

Mammals: Bushbuck, Giraffe, Impala, Kudu, Red Lechwe, Reedbuck, Steenbok, Tsessebe, Honey Badger, Wildebeest, Zebra, Cape Buffalo, Elephants (we saw one taking a mud bath, one at sunset, and a breeding herd with tiny babies!), Hippos, Banded Mongoose, Slender Mongoose, Chacma Baboons, Vervet Monkies, Warthogs (My favorite after the elephants and hippos), Side-Striped Jackals, a Leopard, and a pride of Lions that included two females, two males and two tiny cubs.

We evem saw the hippos, elephants and buffalo about 5 feet off our balcony. We’re glad we didn’t see a mole rat, because the custom is that if you see one outside, someone you love will die; they’re normally underground in their burrows.

Birds: Reed Cormorant, Great Egret, Little Egret, Slaty Egret, Squacco Heron, Hamerkop, African Openbill, Saddle-Billed Stork, Marabou Stork, White-Faced Duck, Egyptian Goose, African Pygmy-goose (very cute tiny geese), Spur-Winged Goose, Martial Eagle, African Fish-Eagle, Dickenson’s Kestrel, Red-Billed Francolin (these were little roadrunners that ran in front of our jeep wherever we went), Wattled Crane (an endangered species), African Jacana, Southern Black Korhaan, Cape Turtle Dove, Meyer’s Parrot (I thought our driver said “Maya’s Pirates” because these look like little Mexican pirate birds), Grey Go-Away Bird (his call sounds like “go-away, go-away”), Coppery-Tailed Coucal, Black Coucal, Giant Eagle-Owl, Pied Kingfisher, Little Bee-Eater (a very cute little green guy), Lilac-Breasted Roller (I thought this was the most beautiful), Red-billed Wood-Hoopoe, Red-Billed Hornbill, Ground Hornbill, Crested Barbet, Pearl-Breasted Swallow, Marico Flycatcher, Grey Shrike, Burchell’s Starling

I actually LOVED the birds – even though they probably seem lame compared to the lions and stuff, they were BEAUTIFUL.

Reptiles: Spotted Bush Snake, Nile Crocodile, Rock Monitor, Water Monitor, Leopard Tortoise

I have to say, that I have been thoroughly Disneyfied. In the warthog, I saw Puumba, in the lions, Simba; the elephants were Dumbo and the steenbok Bambi. Kind of sad, I suppose . . .

We actually saw a few cool plants, too. The roots of wild cotton can be used as a cold remedy, though the buds are poisonous. Wild sage can be used as a mosquito repellant and, in conjunction with camel thorn, can cure gonorrhea. The local people use elephant dung in place of any plant ingredient in a remedy because elephants eat everything, so some of every plant is thought to be in the dung. Dried elephant dung is also used as a mosquito repellant and to ward off evil spirits.

There was a “Sausage Tree” that appeared to have salamis hanging from it.

We viewed the animals and plants on foot, from our Land Rover, and on a dugout canoe called a “makoro” which was paddled by a poleman in waters that were, in some places, only 6 inches deep. On our boat ride, in particular, the poleman made me a necklace and a hat from water lilies. In his culture, if a man is in love with a woman, he’d make her a necklace from a water lily – if she loved him in return, she’d make him a lily-hat. (As an aside, to let us taste some traditional staples of his people’s diet, our poleman also dug up a water lily root for us to eat, which tasted of potato, and he plucked and peeled a papyrus reed which tasted sweet and subtly of cantaloupe. The reed can be chewed as chewing gum. )

In general, each moment here so far has been so surreal that I feel that, as of yet, I haven’t fully connected. From the majesty of one of the world’s seven natural wonders, to an elephant standing 5 feet in front of me, to the small boy with scabs covering his head standing directly in front of me as I crossed the border from Zambia to Botswana, to the hundreds of trucks in line for 4 days to cross that same border via a single ferry that carries them each inefficiently one by one, to 112 orphans fed by their neighbors who have nothing for themselves in a village made of mud huts – I don’t have a place in my brain to process all of the sounds, flavors, smells and sights that my senses are imbibing. I’m drinking, but I’m not getting drunk. I’m seeing, but not feeling. I’m hoping that the shock wears off soon . . . I want this to be real.

I miss pizza. And Millie. Mom – Is she okay???

Oh, and sorry for the dirth of photos - Sanjay is experiencing significant, and quite frustrating, technical difficulties. Hopefully, they'll be resolved soon.

3-4 Cows

We meant to post this on our last evening at Tongabezi in Zambia, but the internet connection was down - then we had no connection in Botswana and Blogger was down in Johannesburg last night.

This post was originally composed on 1/4, so I'm posting it there. Instead of the general play-by-play, I'll cut to a synopsis of our experiences at Tongabezi in Zambia and some general musings for the day ;) Our next post will catch you up on Botswana . . .

EXPERIENCES

• Game Drive (1/4/07 AM): Fabulous. We saw 2 white rhinos , as well as many impala, giraffes, baboons, buffalo, wildebeest, vervet monkies, zebras and even a bush baby and a giant monitor lizard at the Mosi-Oa-Tunya game park near Victoria Falls. We were led by Godfrey. Apparently, at Tongabezi, the staff take British names - most of which are generally reminiscent of an English butler's name, like Jeeves. There's Aston, Knox, Given and Godfrey to name a few. The all have fabulous tales that I'll share below. For now, suffice it to say that Knox is my favorite, and I want to bring him home. Not only is he physically beautiful (hubba, hubba – Ashlee, you must come to Africa), but he's fantastically interesting in his insights about his country. More on him later. Interestingly, though, white rhinos are not white - it's a mispronunciation of "wide" - which they are. All rhinos - black and white - are actually gray. Godfrey called the male giraffes "cheeky boys" and said that they fight or "neck" all day long. Actually, on giraffes, you can tell the males from the females by their antlers because the males have no dark fur on them because of all the fighting they do. A guest named Sidney, an American marketing consultant who lives in London, frequents Club Meds, applies too much fake tanner, and is a raving Democrat (yeah!) accompanied us on our drive in the open-air Land Rover.


• Indian Head Massage (1/4/07 PM): Just before we had lunch on the veranda, Sanjay and I each got scalp and face massages from Brigette. Not fabulous, but nothing to sneeze at either. (No, this is not where Sanjay lost his pants ;)


• Zambezi Canoeing (1/4/07 PM): What a beautiful trip. The water was like glass, and we could hear the Falls although they're about 15.5km away. It was on this excursion that we met Scott, the producer of The Color Purple on Broadway and his boyfriend/partner Brad, an addictions interventionist who hilariously interjected a bar from "In the Jungle" every time a topic of conversation grew too controversial or boring. They are wonderfully entertaining and have made our stay here immensely more enjoyable. Again, more about them later. Brian was our guide – he too was pretty fun, although he seemed to want to feed us to the hippos and the crocs. Sanjay was hilarious at first. At the back of the boat, he was our driver, and we kept going in circles. He is not really “at one” with the water. That said, by the end, he was a paddle master.


• Sunset Cruise (1/4/07 PM): First off, as we stepped on to the boat my new nemesis Allan remarked casually “I wonder what the poor people are doing tonight.” I wanted to throttle him. I wanted to scream: “They’re cleaning your room, cooking your meals, and driving your fucking boat. Asshole.” I refrained. Dinner would be another story – but we’ll get to that later. As we left shore, Chris, the driver of our boat, hit a crocodile and blew out the motor of our boat. I still believe that it was hippo, but he wanted to spare us feeling any unnecessary sympathy. (To them hippos are nuisances, though, so I doubt he would have cared. Baboons too.) We transferred boats, and while I sipped water, Sanjay drank a few Zambian beers with Bill, a Coke executive who runs their Burger King arm in Europe and the Middle East, while Alan and his lovely (please note the irony) wife Claudia (pronounced by Alan, in an irritating British accent, Cloud-ia - we've placed a pic below so you can all more fully share in our loathing) drank Chardonnay with Jay, a pharmaceutical salesman who sells hepatitis C drugs at a profit margin of 32% per $50,000 prescription regimen. Yes, everyone seems filthy rich – except us. Those for whom money is their passion are not nearly as interesting as those who just made it accidentally on the way to pursuing some other passion. We sat on a beach on the Zambezi, where there was white sand that squeaked as we walked, and we watched perhaps the most memorable sunset of my life.



• Dinner (1/4/07 PM): Ah yes, dinner was a festive affair. We sat at the group table which included (besides Stacey and myself), Allan and Cloud-ia, Scott and Brad, Bill, Jay, and Sidney. It started off lovely, with our cauliflower soup appetizers and tomato basil salads, and then it quickly turned into a bloody feud between Republicans and Democrats. After I'd introduced myself as a consultant, but said I'd eventually like to go into children's theater, Sidney said "well there's no money in that." I replied that I believe that if I pursue something I really love, the money will come. At this point, Scott started to share the fascinating story of his nearly 10-year endeavor to bring Alice Walker's The Color Purple to Broadway, despite its somewhat depressing themes and its unlikely success. (For those of you who don't know, Oprah Winfrey later got involved in the production and it has been a major Broadway success. He was actually in Africa to participate in the opening of Winfrey's new girls school in Johannesburg.) Well, somehow this very inspiring story was interrupted by Alan. (Note that I could care less how his name is actually spelled.) I'm not certain how, but he moved the topic to politics. He and Cloud-ia (proud pseudo-libertarians/republicans from Newport Beach, O.C.) were right-wing conservatives who supported our fearless leader, George W. Needless to say, it got very heated, especially between Allan and Stacey who clearly despised each other. (At one point, he said, "obviously people like 'her' -meaning me - have to focus on the argument on George Bush rather than Barack's accomplishments," which he insisted were non-existent. I - politely - reminded him of my name and insisted that Obama's ability to unite and inspire people was a qualification that superseded any possible resume entry for a potential president.) It was quite funny because we were all arguing and took quick timeouts as the staff came to sing a few songs in Zambian for us at dinner and then resumed our fight between songs and then afterwards. The next day at breakfast, Alan & Cloud-ia "forgot" to say "Good Morning!"


• Sunrise Cruise (1/5/07 AM): We likely could have skipped this, as it left at 5:45am, and we’d just been on the Sunset Cruise. (Also, as our valet, Given, personally wakes us up and puts us to bed every night, this required him to wake up extra early, so we felt bad.) I’m VERY glad we went, though. Generally, I think both Sanjay and I feel, in Thoreau’s words, like we want to “suck the marrow” from every moment of our trip. I think our comparative lack of wealth has made us very appreciative of every possible experience. As for the cruise – we were the lone boat on the Zambezi, and it was only Sanjay, me and the driver in the boat. It was still and quiet and beautiful and a glorious beginning to our day.


• Victoria Falls (1/5/07 AM): Today, Godfrey took us, with Scott and Brad, to see the Falls from the Zambia side. (Read my last post for more details about the view from Zimbabwe.) From both sides, the Falls are breathtaking, although I think Zimbabwe currently has a better view. My double rainbow appeared again. At the end, we briefly visited a crafts market, where the salespeople asked to barter our socks and clothes for their wares.


• Gorge Swing (1/5/07 PM): Brad and I went on a contraption called a gorge swing in which you jump off of a cliff and swing to the other side of the gorge at a full freefall. It was amazing!!! The initial freefall is sheer terror; you actually think that you are going to just fall to the bottom (about 100m down). Sanjay is insane - and as he jumped Lionel Richie music from the 1980s was blaring in the background.
  
• Simonga Village (1/5/07 PM): Before lunch, Sanjay and I took a tour to Simonga Village, a small traditional village of about 3,000 residents, mostly peasant farmers who work their own small plot for the food they use to live.
  Words cannot describe the poverty. Aston, our guide, kindly led us around, sharing stories and diligently answering any question we asked. We started by meeting the village elder, Elizabeth, who's pictured with me to the left. She has total authority in the village, and her power was inherited from her father, the previous elder. She makes certain all the village children attend school, settles legal disputes, allocates land parcels, etc. My conversation with her was brief but fascinating; she shared that all three of her children had died, and I palpably sensed from her a profound sadness about their loss. She now raises her two grandchildren.
  There are 112 orphans in the Village. They are counted by the Village Guide who led our tour – his other duties are to look over the town and allocate the general funds (which are received, it seems, primarily from tourist donations) for care of the sick or orphaned that he identifies. Generally, orphans are taken in by neighbors. He said most of their parents died of malaria and other local diseases. I wonder to what degree they are affected by HIV. The children (orphaned and not) played with toy trucks they made themselves from fence wire. (That’s right – rusted fence wire that formerly surrounded old train tracks.) They followed us around happily waiting to have their pictures taken, singing songs and dancing for us. The babies had soiled diapers and crawled on the dirt - happily.
  Aston explained that the village homes are made of mud and sticks with a thatch roof. The mud is replaced annually after the rains, and the roof every 7 years. We asked about religion: there are seven churches in the village, all Christian. The churches are mud, and the pews are made from old railroad tracks. We took a picture of the Catholic one (my alma mater would be proud). Aston shared briefly about the rules of marriage, and stated that while asking permission and paying a dowry of 3-4 cows (over time, on credit – everyone recognizes that no one has so much at one time) is traditional, new rules allow for “wife stealing” without punishment. When a young couple is truly in love, the man may steal his young bride (about 18 years old), but must pay a tariff of 1-2 additional cows, for a total of 5-6 cows. (Yes, cows.)
  There were small businesses throughout the village, where many make their money. There were small bars, a vegetable stand, a blacksmith and two carpenters who made furniture. Some villagers work for other local businesses, like the lodge where we’re staying. We learned later that they make as little as the equivalent of $40/month working full-time in the tourism industry here. For the sake of comparison, we’re paying $800 each per night to stay in this lodge. The owner, though he lives in Zambia, is a very wealthy foreigner.
  Our guide said he loves his village – that he was born there and that he will happily die there. Zimbabwe is probably 2-3 miles away, and he’s never been out of his own country. I don’t know what to make of it. Two of the staff I talked to – Knox and Godfrey – both echoed a common theme. They said, for them it is normal – it’s fine – it’s not so bad. They smile all day; they never complain. Unlike us . . . all the time . . . with all we have . . .
  When we spoke to Godfrey on the way back, we asked him briefly about the differences between the education provided at the school established by the owners of our lodge and the government school in Simonga Village. He said that the gap was enormous. While every child from the Tongabezi school passed their National exams, not a single one from the village school did so. He said that the teachers are so poorly paid by the government that while they are supposed to be teaching, most run second businesses during school hours.
  [As an aside, Sanjay tells me that I’m too verbose, but it’s difficult to self-censor when I’m tired, I don’t have the patience to edit and sometimes, like today’s visit to the Village, I feel I simply must provide complete descriptions and not leave anything out. I’m not certain if I’m doing that for me or for you, but in either case, I’m trying to capture each moment as completely as I can. It’s all so, well, foreign and fascinating. That said, do let me know if my blog becomes like a boring slide show of Allan & Cloud-ia’s last Mediterranean cruise. I’ll try to spice it up. Trust me, from where I sit, it’s anything but boring.]
  
• Fishing (1/5/07 PM): We caught a rock, we caught a plant, and Sanjay even caught a tree. Our guide, Aston, actually climbed the tree on the bank to retrieve his lure to avoid our incurring a fee. But we caught no fish. We did see a mama-jama crocodile, and our guide threw beef at it to make it jump in our direction. Not as much fun as you might think and slightly terrifying as it was about three feet from me.

GENERAL MUSINGS

• Up With People: I can’t stop singing Up with People songs now. Before we visited the village, Scott joked that he wanted me to gather the villagers and choreograph a few Up with People numbers before I returned to the lodge. Thanks, Mom, for playing their album about 1.2 jillion times while I was growing up. You’ll be glad to know I can still sing every word to Up with People, Let the River Flow and Robbie Robot and the Tran-Sisters. (Yes, Tran-Sisters.)


• The King of the Countries: So far, everyone I’ve asked where they would like to travel most has said the US, except for Godfrey; he said Europe. The other day, too, one of our cab drivers, when he heard where we were from said, “Ah . . . the king of the countries.” He was insistent. I’m not certain how that makes me feel . . . it kind of frightens me if we are some sort of blueprint for which to strive for developing nations. There simply has to be a better model - or at least one that honors their heritage rather than ours. Speaking of which, there is brand new strip mall in Zambia, complete with a Subway sandwich shop. Let the Americanization begin.


• A Christian Nation: At least 4 local people have mentioned to me that Zambia has been “a Christian nation” since the 1950s.


• Happiness: Poor Sanjay. I kept him up late last night musing about something Knox said. He said people here always smile and never complain, even with what little they have. Meanwhile, many of the American and European tourists with whom he interacts complain incessantly. Sanjay and I talked until he grew bored and tired (as you probably are now of this blog) and we wondered how happiness should truly be measured – in happiness, wealth, freedom, knowledge? Is more happiness better? More choices? I just don’t know . . . (By the way, the academic studies say Zimbabwe, Zambia and Tanzania are some of the least happy on earth. Check out http://www.happyplanetindex.org/map.htm)


• Teeth: I’m not sure what this is about, but all the staff here have beautiful, perfectly white smiles. They don’t seem to eat many sweets. On the flip side, most of the European tourists we’ve met have gaping maws filled with crooked fangs. Frightening.


• Fort Knox: Speaking of beautiful teeth, I come back to Knox. As I mentioned before, he’s handsome, charming and strikingly intelligent. He loves American movies, and wants to go to film school. He used to own his own import business that went bankrupt after two of his trucks were hijacked in South Africa while transporting cars and computers between there and the Congo. Thus, he’s back to Tongabezi, his former employer before he went into business for himself. He also used to be a competitive swimmer, and got a swimming scholarship to a college in Florida that he could not accept because it required him to find his own sponsorship to enter the US. He's already written us an email to let us know that he's nominated us his "guests of the year". He even called us ",joyful, easy-going, understanding and fun to be with." Such a nice guy. If anyone knows someone in film school admissions - this guy is awesome. We'd love to help him out!


• Mango: There’s a cat in the lobby of the lodge named Mango. She follows Sanjay around and she mysteriously drools. It’s slightly disturbing. Oh, Mom, just so you know, they had dogs for pets in the village as well.


• Squeaky: My plague has now simmered to a squeaky agitating voice that I hope people don’t mistake for the real thing. That said, I feel almost 100% better ;)

Question of the Day: How do you think Sanjay really lost his pants?

Good night – and again, tomorrow, when I’m less tired, I’ll be a much better writer ;)