Travel far. Stay long. See deep.

What I've been up to #3: BAKING!!!

2011-01-28T14:08:00.000-08:00

One of the overarching goals of all Peace Corps Zambia projects is on developing Income Generating Activities - ways for people in our villages to earn extra income over and above their cash crop farming. Obviously fish farming has this potential, as does the organic farming and gardening I've taken up as a side project. But what Peace Corps also want to promote are other small skills like tailoring, bicycle repair, and craftmaking, for example. And in my case, I've been playing enabler to a neighbor (Ba Elias, also my fish farming counterpart), who's starting to craft a successful baking business.

I started experimenting with baking at my site almost as soon as I got posted. Peace Corps Zambia lore is riddled with bread and cake recipes bakeable in the village, so I figured I'd give it a try. I started off baking dutch-oven style: baking in a large pot with hot coals above and below. Using this crude and barely replicable method I managed to make a few good batches of banana and pumpkin bread. Once dry season rolled around and firewood became more available, I decided to upgrade to a wood-fired earthen oven, using actual loaf pans for my bread. Since it's made entirely of mud and thus very cheap for my villagers to replicate, I figured an earthen oven would be a good way to promote baking around my village.

Building the oven by gradually layering mud around a mold made of wet sand

The oven in action

One day Ba Elias walks up to my house and says "Mike, next time you make bread can you tell me so that I can come watch you bake it". Of course I agree, and we make banana bread together soon thereafter. To my delight he brought along a pen and paper so he could write down the recipe, each of the ingredients, and how much each of them cost. He tried the end product, agreed that it was fantastically delicious, and paid it the ultimate Zambian compliment "If you eat this for lunch, I don't even think you'll need to each ubwali!" So I gave him one of the loaves of banana bread to take back to his family.

Much to my surprise, however, he does NOT take the banana bread loaf back to his family. Instead he cuts it up into dozens of tiny pieces and proceeds to run all over the village, handing out the pieces to any adult he sees and asking them how it tastes. Just like the sample stands in grocery stores, I thought! I asked him about it that evening and he says, prophetically, "Once they try it, surely they will want to buy some later." (Fortunately he did also save some for his family)

And a few weeks later, as I'm getting ready to head into town, he comes to my house with fifty thousand kwacha (about 10 dollars) he's saved up, and asks me to bring back the banana bread ingredients that he couldn't get in the village. He tells me, "I was thinking, and I believe I can sell this bread for one thousand kwatcha per slice." I've seen villagers haggling to the death over a fifty kwacha note, so I seriously doubt they'd be willing to pay one thousand for a slice of bread, but I agree to bring back the ingredients anyways. At worst, I figure, I'll just end up buying his banana bread off of him for 1000k a pop, at least until he makes his money back.

I bring the ingredients back in a few days, and Ba Elias comes to my house to collect them. I make a point to offer him free and unrestricted use of my earthen oven, even when I'm not around. "No worries," he says, "I have my own oven." While I was gone he'd managed to find a little charcoal-powered metal box oven, as well a matching baking sheet, that he bartered for completely on his own!

I helped him make the first batch using his oven, and was astonished to find a queue of customers already forming down his driveway, before the bread had even finished baking. People were indeed willing to pay 1000k for a slice; in fact they were scrambling to be first in line! That meant that every loaf he sold netted him about $5 USD. And he was hardly having to try - everywhere he went, he was converting loaves into five-dollar bills in about 30 seconds!

The finished product: delicious banana bread!

That was back in October; unfortunately after a couple of weeks, the imminent rains forced baking to take a backseat to farming. Ba Elias probably won't bake again until May, after the maize harvest is finished. But to this day I still get people telling me "Michael, you must make Ba Elias make more banana bread...we are suffering here!" And we've already got plans for entrenching the business come dry season- taking a trip to the Tanzanian border to source cheaper ingredients; figuring out which ingredients (e.g. eggs, oil) can be substituted out without sacrificing too much quality.

This story never ceases to astound me. With only a seventh-grade education in a failing school system, Ba Elias has shown the brilliance and initiative to recognize a business opportunity, save money to pursue that opportunity, do cost calculations, advertise his product in advance, correctly set a market price, and source his own equipment, all nearly entirely on his own. I've just been there to try and keep the ball rolling. I can only hope he picks up where he left off once the rains go away!

What I've been up to #2: Farming Farming

2011-01-28T13:43:00.000-08:00

For as many generations as we can recall, the Krautmann family has been, first and foremost, a family of farmers. From mY father and grandfather to my great grandpa, all the way back to the very first fresh-off-the-boat Krautmann who ever set foot in central Missouri, little Krautmann kids have always grown up digging post holes, tending gardens, raising animals, and generally causing trouble. It's like a rite of passage into Krautmannhood. But alas, most of us from my generation have thrown off this mantle, and it pains me greatly. So under the guise of promoting food security and land conservation in my village (of course my real motivation is to assuage my guilt at having shirked my family heritage for so long), I decided to try my hand at a small conservation farming plot this upcoming rainy season.

Farming in Northern Zambia is traditionally done by hand. The farmers' tool of choice - a large hoe - is perhaps the most badass earth-moving hand tool I've ever encountered (Why they haven't yet been marketed in America is beyond me). The blade is the size of a large shovel blade and weighs 4 - 5 pounds by itself (mine is allegedly hewn from a hunk of 3/16" municipal storm drain). And then it's attached to a four-foot long baseball bat of a handle. It takes a bit of effort to get the thing moving, but the benefit is that it easily cuts through inch-thick saplings, six-foot tall clumps of grass, and whatever else you might encounter while digging. For most farmers here, a hoe and a small axe are the only farming tools they need to own.

Unfortunately Zambian farming techniques aren't quite as advanced as their weaponry. Northern Zambians traditionally employ a shifting slash-and-burn system (called "chitemene") that involves clearing and burning a plot of land, planting an indigenous crop like millet or sorghum for 4-5 years (until the soil is thoroughly depleted), and then moving to a new plot while letting the old one lie fallow. Because the native foliage gives little back to the soil, most of these fields must lie fallow for 40-50 years to regain their former fertility, So for the chitemene system to be sustainable each farmer must own a huge chunk of land (since he's only farming 10% of it at any given time), but the population of Northern Zambia has already far exceeded the level that this system can realistically support. If that weren't bad enough, farmers have now ditched their native millet and sorghum in favor of crops like maize, which have an even bigger nutrient requirement. As a result, Zambia has one of the highest deforestation rates in the world, faces huge problems with soil erosion, and has average crop yields well below what should be achievable.

Luckily a few small tweaks from the pages of Western organic farming can dramatically improve the situation:
- Intentionally rotating crops (e.g. planting maize on last year's legume field) can create soil with more balanced nutrient levels.
- Planting an improved fallow crop on unused fields can leave them good as new in as little as 3-4 years.
- Adding in natural fertilizers like animal manure, wood ash, and charcoal dust can improve soil structure and fertility over time.
- Using trees, hedges, and last year's leftover crop residues to help combat soil erosion

These are the techniques I'm trying out on my own little 25m x 25m plot next to my house (Though my aching arms and back might argue that "little" is a relative term!) My neighbors helped me collect sackfuls of ash and cow manure, which we've carefully buried in the middle of each planting ridge. We've portioned out a section for Maize, a section for peanuts, and a third portion TBD, with nice tephrosia hedges separating and surrounding each. Just planted the maize earlier this week after the first few heavy rains of the season.

The newly prepped field ready to plant

Hopefully this little experiment will go well, stay tuned for more results!

What I've been up to #1: Fish Farming

2011-01-28T13:24:00.000-08:00

As a Rural Aquaculture Promotion volunteer fish farming is the bread and butter of my work routine. In a typical week I'll have perhaps 3 or 4 meetings with different farmers or groups of farmers in my catchment area (all the villages within approximately a 25km radius). In a typical meeting I bike out to the farmer's village and spend the day helping that group/farmer with whatever fish farming task they are currently working on.

Some farmers are interested in digging new ponds or renovating existing ones, so I help them survey their land, measure out an appropriate area, and dig the pond to meet our R.A.P. specifications. We promote hand-dug ponds measuring around 10m x 15m x 1m deep (a nice balanced size that is relatively easy to dig and still has adequate fish-holding capacity). We also try to promote ponds with thick, sloped walls for added strength, and with screened outlet pipes to keep the pond from overflowing in a rainstorm. Such a pond might take an individual farmer a few weeks to a month to dig - it's much easier when working as a group. I try to help these groups think about how to efficiently divide and manage labor so they can finish the digging quickly (my record was a group that met at 6am to dig a small 10mx10m pond, and had the whole thing finished by 10am!).

With makeshift eye black liberally applied, its time to hop in the muck and dig a new fish pond!

Other farmers want to learn or review feeding practices for fish in their existing ponds. In this case I'll go out with the farmer on foraging expeditions to collect termites, quality plant leaves, animal manure (to fertilize plankton in the water), and other choice food sources. My goal is to help that farmer establish a routine for feeding and maintaining his ponds.

Well-maintained fish ponds: thick walls, lots of fish food, and clear of weeds

Still others have had fish for several months already and are interested in harvesting and selling them. This is a good opportunity to stress business and management skills like advance advertising, good recordkeeping, and creating and following work plans. Then of course I'll help out with the actual pond harvest, since I can never avoid an opportunity to get muddy and fishy :-) Finally, I've ended up helping a lot of farmers measure out and dig long furrows to carry water to their ponds and gardens.

The many ways of harvesting fish from a pond: using a modern seine net; making a traditional Bemba reed fish trap; baling out water to catch the fish by hand; and....telekinesis?...No, the people on the bottom right are customers waiting to buy harvested fish

Because my site is so far away from any town or large marketplace, there's not a big enough market to promote fish farming as a legitimate, full-time business. My farmers can make a bit of extra side income selling amongst themselves in the village, but my main focus is on using fish farming as a means of improving family nutrition. Judging by the abundance of children in my area running around with thin hair and rounded bellies it's clear that getting sufficient protein is a challenge for many people. Thus a set of fish ponds is an easy and attractive option (whenever you want fish for dinner, just go to the fish pond and fish out a couple!) for families looking to spruce up their diet.

All in all I've got about a dozen formal groups - complete with chairman, treasurer, etc - and another couple dozen individual farmers who I meet with on a regular basis. In total they have about 200 - 250 fish ponds, and harvest about 10 kilograms of fish from each pond. Much of this was done already before I even arrived, so I can't take credit for all of it :-) There's certainly much room for improvement - work still to do for the two volunteers who follow me - but I'm happy to say that my fish farmers are off to a good start!

Rumors of my demise...

2011-01-27T23:28:00.000-08:00

Wow, in a place where time is so incredibly relaxed, it's amazing how fast it seems to go by. My apologies - I'll do my best not to let a lapse like this happen again. I promise I have actually been up to stuff over here (like hosting my family for a couple of weeks in May!!! Thank you so much Mom & Dad for sharing your thoughts on our trip!), and now I get to make up for lost time!

I've gotten several questions recently along the lines of "Mike, so you've been in Zambia for over a year now, and we still don't know very well...what is it you actually DO for work in your village?" I'll focus on this in the next few posts, but my job at the present moment can basically be summarized as 1) teaching fish farming techniques to interested farmers, 2) promoting organic/conservation farming and gardening, and 3) inciting the creation and sale of delicious baked goods.

I've also been feeding my travel bug bit. Over 4th of July weekend I went hiking in the fabulously beautiful Mutinondo Wilderness Area, a local Northern Zambia treasure so under-the-radar that even most Northern PCVs are only barely aware of its existence. In September I finally boarded the TAZARA train that passes through my village, coming back from a trip out to Zanzibar Island. And most recently I headed down to Livingstone to see Victoria Falls and Chobe National Park. Pictures coming soon!

Sorry again for the delay, and enjoy the deluge soon to come!

Guest entry from Mike's family: Vacation May '10

2010-11-21T17:18:00.000-08:00

-May 8-21, 2010-

Mike invited his family to add a guest entry chronicling our Zambia experience when we visited him.

It all started about a month after Mike got to his village, in September 2009, when Matt started agitating to come visit. It took ‘til about December for the idea to take root, to work up the nerve, and for us to agree that most of us probably would survive. We set a date of May, read a few books, updated passports, bought plane tickets, got vaccinations & anti-malaria meds, and figured out “carrion” (malapropism for “traveling light”).

We flew from Chicago to DC but missed our connecting flight due to really high winds (Jen’s favorite new hobby is white-knuckle landings). After a night in DC, we went standby and got lucky—off to Jo’burg. The IPOP (interesting person on plane) was a Purdue college student of Indian descent who had been born/raised in Zambia. Among the most important recommendations he had was that we find and enjoy some Amarula, which is Africa’s answer to Bailey’s Irish Cream. He also helped us find our way through the Johannesburg airport. After a 2^nd flight, we arrived safe in Lusaka, Zambia, where Mike and his favorite cab driver met us at the airport. It was 9 PM, after dark, and yet there really weren’t many city lights. Lots of people were walking along the streets; dark skin, dark clothing, hard to see.

We slept the first 2 nights at the Bluecrest, a family-owned set of western-style guesthouses in a walled compound complete with armed guards, swimming pool, bar, running water, flush toilets, and electricity most of the time. Next day, we ate lunch at the Kilimanjaro, favorite scene for expats. At the car rental agency, we noted that the parking lot had more demolished cars than working ones; it made us glad we had a driver to pick us up next day for our trip to Kasama, the northern city “near” his village. We had dinner at an excellent Indian restaurant.

The drive to Kasama took all day, driving 80-90 MPH on a 2-lane road that had catastrophically large potholes (2-3 feet deep, 20-100 meters long) in places. We saw 2 cases where large lorries from Dar had crashed after their drivers either didn’t see or didn’t understand the potholes. Our driver, Roland, was much better at seeing the potholes than I was. It made me glad we had a driver. Along the road, which really didn’t have a shoulder, there were people all along the road, waiting, walking, selling, or watching-- even in the middle of nowhere. Then there were the police checkpoints, which our Bemba-speaking driver got us through without incident. It made me glad we had a driver. We arrived late to learn that our reservation at the hotel had been cancelled because the hotel decided to host an international conference instead. So we stayed across the road at the Thorntree Lodge, first-rate accommodations run by British expats. Dinner was leftovers, of course, but was delicious.

Next day, we packed up and headed out of town. After about 20 km, we turned off the tarmac onto a side road. So far, so good. Well, a FEW stretches were OK. Much of it was deeply rutted, so bad that we had to go around. One place, we actually had to get out of the truck and direct the driver’s placement of the wheels . Luckily it was dry. We stopped at Jocelyn’s (fellow PC volunteer) place for a nice lunch. One of her villagers was an elderly woman who’d gone senile, but all were gentle with her.

One thing we’d noticed was the number of phone calls Mike was getting, inquiring when we’d be getting there. The villagers had gathered near Mike’s house around 9 AM and were wondering why we weren’t there yet. Many had gone home by the time we arrived, around 4 PM or so. We’d have never guessed. As our truck pulled within about a half kilometer of Mike’s house, we started to pick up an entourage. When we got to his house, there were about 50 adults gathered around the truck, together with at least 3 times that many children. They were “ululating” loud and long; we were quite overwhelmed. As we got out, they took each of us aside and welcomed us. “Mike is now OUR son, so you are our brother.” To which we replied, after much coaching, “Eumquai”.

We were slowly shepherded to seats of honor on Mike’s porch. The villagers organized themselves, brought out the drums, and they broke into song and dance. Women and men wrapped a citenge about their waist, then did a hip-wiggling dance, competing with each other somehow. All around, the onlookers clapped and sang to first-rate drum accompaniment. Some time later, the oldest man came forward and gave a speech about how grateful they are for Mike: he speaks Bemba, lives like one of them, is genuinely helpful and sincere, and is so open and sharing. Meantime, the kids were staring at us, trying to see what we were like, trying to get photographed, or being coy. They were well behaved. Jen sat down and talked with them, coached by Roland our driver. I’m not sure who was more taken with the other: the children or Jen. The final part of the celebration was a ritual meal, wherein a chicken is served, and the oldest member at the table starts it off by eating the gizzard. The honor fell to Matt, who was up to the task. (Unfortunately, between his broken Bemba and their broken English, Matt never learned how they’d prepared it so deliciously.) In addition to the chicken, we were served nshima, the Zambian version of Polenta.

Next day, we met the local head-man, who is the village elder. He is a farmer just like all the rest. There is no visible indication of his role, but all are deferential to him. He served raw groundnuts, and we attempted to have a conversation. I gave him my favorite wool shirt, according to custom for visitors of stature like ourselves. We also met neighbors and toured fish ponds and the gardens of Mike’s Zambian counterpart. A neighbor brought us lunch, which was simple but delicious. For dinner, we fixed a big split-pea and sweet potato curry. As an aside, we learned that our Land Cruiser had a flat tire and the spare was low.

Spending the day as villagers, we learned how challenging it is to get through the day. The nearest electricity was 50 miles away; water was a quarter mile away. In the space of that day, our 5-person household needed 3 trips at 5 gallons each, used for cooking, dishes, washing our clothes, and bathing. The chimbusu (Concrete deck with a slit opening into the pit-toilet below; “squatty potty”) took some target practice. The stove was made from the rim of a truck-tire, heated by a charcoal fire. The pot sat essentially on the charcoal. We cooked with a single aluminum pot. The challenge of day gave way to the relaxation of night by a fire. When it burned out, we saw a moonless night sky ablaze with stars—I think each star in the entire universe shone on us those nights. Under that vault, Mike talked about all he’d learned, what he hopes to achieve, how his people have such riches of community, and how easily it can be ruined by things like money and well meaning outsiders doing the wrong good things.

Our second night, after we’d gone to bed, Jen got up late to answer a call from Ma Nature. On the way to the chimbusu, a Puff Adder (About 3 feet long and 8 inches in diameter: low length-to-width ratio, and pretty slow-moving for a snake) introduced itself to her with a long, loud hiss that conjured images of far larger creatures. Scared her out of her wits, she could be heard retreating our direction as she repeated a 2-word mantra. She rather animatedly summoned her dad, who grabbed an axe, cut a pole, and prepared to introduce it to its maker. Concerned about what local perceptions might be, Dad first asked for advice from Mike; and when Mike came to address the issue, Patti came too. The debate was lively even before all the cast had gathered, and the snake found it absolutely riveting, at least for awhile. Eventually, it got bored and hungry, so off it slithered, puff-adder style (slow and sluggish). Sometime later, the discussion hit a lull, as is known to occur in most conversations about every 7 minutes. At that point, the cast realized that discussion had become somewhat dated. The pitch and decibel level died back to grumbling as we visited the chimbusu and returned to bed.

Next day, we took a pre-trip trip to the neighboring village to address the low spare tire. There, we borrowed a broken-down bicycle pump and took turns amongst ourselves pumping. It makes me think of trying to fill a washtub using a thimble. After 45 minutes, we called it full (no visible change in inflation) and headed back to Kasama. We made a slight detour to give a young mother and her sick baby a lift to the local clinic. We stayed the night at Kasembo Guest House, just north of Kasama. Sometime (I never knew when or where), our driver took the tire in for repair and re-mounting (It made me glad we had a driver.).

We abandoned our plan to go to Victoria Falls because it would require so much more driving and leave little time for anything else. Instead, we went to Chishimba Falls National Park, which was nearby. We missed the monkeys, which the park ranger says are excellent purse snatchers. They had departed to rob farmers’ fields of maize. As rivers go, this one was modest, but the top and bottom of 3 separate falls made quite a splash. We spent many electrons trying to capture their totality by digital camera, but eventually gave up, sat back, and enjoyed it all.

That evening, we took a tour at the Mwela Rocks National Monument and saw some petroglyphs dated between 2,000 and 10,000 years old. They are attributed to the Yao people (“bushmen” is a derogatory term). They portrayed rites of passage and hunting. Our young, well informed local tour guide had typical western attire, but whenever we got into the really rugged rocks, she would pull off her shoes and go barefoot. She pointed to a spot the size of a quarter on the face of a rock and described its purpose, as follows. The father of the bride-to-be would point out the target to the daughter’s suitor, who must prove his readiness for marriage by hitting the spot with an arrow from 25 paces. (Roland, our driver, didn’t think too much of that story. From the banter that followed for some time thereafter, it was obvious that the tour guide enjoyed baiting him about a possible deficiency in his archery skills.)

On the way back to Lusaka, we stopped at Kapishya Hot Springs, and at Shiwa Ngondu, the setting for a novel called, “Africa house”. We had lunch with a grandson of the founder, who acquainted us with the actual family history, which was not quite the same as the novel. This part of the trip was the closest we got to really wild land; we didn’t see anything, but my neck hairs could definitely tell we were seen. Still, we were well away from the large game preserves nearby that are so famous. That night, we stayed in Mpika at a motel that left us shuddering. Mike described it as “not so bad, compared to some others.” I didn’t ask him to elaborate. And we enjoyed finally meeting Mike’s girlfriend Laura, a fellow PC volunteer.

We returned to Lusaka and visitedthe Kalimba

reptile park. Here, we met a few highly poisonous snakes, some crocodiles, and a caretaker who wagged their tails for us (he suggested avoiding the front ends).

We hit the City Market and loaded up on more Citenge. Next day we visited the Lusaka National Museum, which had an exhibit sponsored by the Lechwe Trust. It sponsors modern Zambian artists. We also visited the Kamawata market, which had lots of touristy crafts and a 300-lb hippopotamus carved in Teak which definitely belongs to Matt if he can just figure out how to get it home. Alas, he limited his purchase to a 1-meter tall warrior carved in African ebony. Some family found it ludicrous to think that we’d ever get it home because it obviously would NOT fit into the suitcase. Matt responded by stopping by the only hardware store in Zambia. He pick up materials and made a custom shipping package complete with bubble wrap that had been measured very carefully at the time of sale. Of course, late that night we ate more Indian food and had some Amarula.

As Jen and Matt sat on the porch of the cabin enjoying the last late hours of their last Zambian evening, “Francesca “ materialized from nowhere and bewitched Jen in a very feline purring sort of way, reminiscent of Kipling’s “cat who walks by himself.” Some considerable time later, Jen said goodbye in a “parting is such sweet sorrow” kind of way, and went inside to bed. Francesca was a bit weak on romantic literature and didn’t really buy into the parting or the sweet-sorrow. Taking things into her own paws, she found her way inside, about 3 AM. She and Jen found the reuniting a sweet delight.

We spent several hours re-packing for the trip home; it’s hard to fit 20 citenge in one’s carry-on luggage. Misfortune overtook us when Jen came down with a nasty case of dysentery, the morning we were to leave. We were on the cusp of skipping the flight and getting her to a hospital, but serendipitously, the airport had an infirmary with a physician on duty. The physician’s examination, some essential electrolytes, and a higher dose of ciprofloxacin instantaneously cured our worry about a severe medical crisis somewhere over the South Atlantic 15 hours away from the nearest doctor; the dysentery took a few more days to respond.

By the time we got to Chicago, we were exhausted. Thankfully, Jen’s fiancé Nick met us at the airport and chauffeured us home. He’s a good man. (Matt’s 3-foot warrior made it home without getting sick or injured; the crate worked perfectly. Now it’s time to contemplate getting that 300-lb hippo…. “MATT! Do NOT think about that!”)

Looking back, it’s hard to believe we were there so long ago. The experience was intense; the post-trip letdown lasted a good week before we started to recover. Something about being outside one’s comfort zone. But it was great to see that Mike is inside his: to see his affection for his villagers, his simplicity, self-assurance, relaxed attitude, and willingness to laugh at himself. We’re proud of him.

In - Service Training

2010-02-01T01:49:00.000-08:00

- January 28, 2009 -

There are only a few times during our stay as Peace Corps volunteers when all 40 people from my intake get together, and In-Service Training (IST) is one of them. On January 17, we all traveled down to a government hostel in Lusaka for two weeks of supplemental training and meetings with our program trainers. Getting to see everyone again, and hear their stories from site, was an incredible time- i continue to be amazed at how everyone's village offers a completely unique experience. Some people live with families, some without. Some live right next to town, some live 200km away. Some have NGOs all over the place, some have villagers who've never seen a white person before. We all have different successes, issues, and problems, which means we've all changed quite a bit since Swear-In back in September.

Our supplemental training was short, but very important. We learned primarily about sustainable agriculture, about how to better utilize the resources around the farm to improve soil fertility and reduce the cost of inputs like fertilizer. This is a hugely important issue for Zambia, because farmers here are so dependent on government chemical fertilizer support (which is currently being reduced by 80-90% in my village), and very susceptible to drought and other climate change phenomena.

We also invited our counterparts to come down for a two-day workshop on project management. We focused on how to teach villagers to better identify their own talents and the resources within their community. This is a critical step that is missing from many people's thought process. Most people here seem to think that large projects need funding from the government and outside NGOs; one of my biggest and most critical roles is to help people see the potential they have to complete these same projects without any outside help, using just their own creativity and hard work. It's a tough thing to try and teach, so I'm extremely glad that Ba Elias was able to come down and attend the workshop with me. We'll have a lot of work to do when I get back.

It was also fun to catch up on the wide world of sports. The NFL playoffs were playing on satellite TV, but there was a 12-hour delay or so between the live game and the showing here in Zambia. Thus we all had to make a pact that we wouldn't check the scores online before the game came on, spilling the beans for the rest of the group. In that *other* kind of football, the Zambian soccer team made quite a run in the African Cup of Nations, but got knocked out by Nigeria after a 0-0 overtime tie led to a 5-4 loss on penalty kicks. It's fun to see how crazy everyone is about soccer here. During the games, each shot on goal is accompanied by a deafening roar that seemingly comes from everywhere around town. But after the Nigeria loss, and another excruciating one to Cameroon (89.5 minutes of hard work and brilliant play against a far superior team got ruined by a few seconds of stunning, ball-through-the-goalie's-hands ineptitude), the entire city of Lusaka sat in stunned, despondent silence.

But after two weeks of fun in Lusaka, everyone's getting a bit worn out and now we're getting ready to head back to our sites. The next few months should be productive and exciting, as the rains ease up a bit, people begin to harvest their crops (and hopefully fish ponds), and a new intake of volunteers comes in (yay, we're not the newbies anymore!!!). And my family's coming to visit in May, which will undoubtedly be a fantastic experience!!!! Talk to you soon!

La Navidad de las Dugongos

2010-02-01T01:35:00.001-08:00

- January 6, 2010 -

Being from Michigan I’m a firm believer that Christmas should never be associated with words like “tropical paradise”, “coral reefs”, or “death by pineapple”. But being so close to the equator and so far from home and family this Christmas, I was forced to make compromises… Thus with the prospect of snow angels thousands of miles away, I settled for second best: traveling with four other Zambia PCVs down to Vilankulo, Mozambique to celebrate the Holidays on the ocean.

Being naïve newbie volunteers, we decided to make the trip overland, via the Zambian border at Katete. But this being Southern Africa, traveling is never as innocent or as simple as it would seem. By the time we made it, five full days and 17 vehicles later, we realized the wisdom of those who flew. On one leg of the trip we got stuck in the rain while sitting in the bed of a pickup truck. Another leg found us standing on top of our luggage for 14 hours on a double-booked coach bus fighting constantly with angry, pushy, over-crowded Mozambiquans (Mozos for short???). Still another ride involved cramming 24 people, 20 bags of luggage, a dozen crates of empty beer bottles, five sacks of beans, and a chicken onto a tiny pickup truck. We discovered that outside of the main roads (like the Great East & North Roads out of Lusaka), there is so little traffic that we really didn’t have much of a choice of transport; either take the overloaded coach bus today, or wait and hope that tomorrow’s coach bus has a bit more room. Long story short, getting there sucked.

Hitching down to Lusaka - this was the easy part where I still had room to take pictures

Fortunately, Vilankulo was the perfect place to recover from such an arduous journey. With palm-lined beaches, warm turquoise water, and a hostel right next to it all, swimming became at least a thrice-daily activity. Vilankulo is famous for its 4+ meter tide differences, so the beachfront always looked different than the last time you swam there (this also meant that no matter how high up the beach we placed our stuff, we would inevitably end up scrambling to keep it dry). We also took a trip in a dhow, a simple-yet-remarkably-effective Arabic sailing vessel, out to the nearby Bazaruto Archipelago to go snorkeling on a pair of incredible coral reefs. Through the crystal clear water we must have seen 40-50 species of tropical fish - groupers, puffers, angelfish, clownfish, parrotfish, a couple of barracudas off in the distance, and even a lionfish. Not to mention the coral itself came in all colors and patterns. On the other side of the reefs, world-class deep sea fishing kept us well-fed with red snapper, tuna, and kingfish (it was a common sight to see the local fisherman walking around selling 30lb red snappers fresh out of the water). Unfortunately we never caught a glimpse of Vilankulo’s most famous aquatic animal: the dugong. This nearly extinct cousin of the manatee is so rare that it’s attained nearly mythical status - although photos grace the cover of nearly every tourist brochure and people walk around sporting “Equipo Dugongo” (“Team Dugong”) t-shirts, even most locals have never seen one in person. Yet Vilankulo remains one of the last dugong-inhabited areas in the world.

Our little hostel chalet and the surrounding beach - not a bad place to set up shop for a week!

The insane four-meter tide difference turned ocean into desert and left many a boat beached for several hours at a time

But aside from the snorkeling, swimming, and seafood, I really just enjoyed hanging out with the other volunteers, getting to know them a bit better - we get precious little time to spend with volunteers from other provinces. Thus sitting under the pavilion eating pineapples, playing vicious games of Phase 10, and blasting Christmas music was the perfect change-of-pace from the humdrum of Northern Province village life. We also took some time to explore the town of Vilankulo itself, which despite its status as a top tourist destination remains a *very* African city: lots of dirt roads, vacant lots, walled compounds with broken glass set on top, gravity-fed plumbing everywhere, unreliable electricity, and a big central market containing an impressive variety of crafts and citenges. And during our explorations we somehow managed to befriend every dog in the entire town - had a giant gaggle of them following us everywhere - much to the dismay of our hostel’s gate-keeper. By far the most notable canine was a cute little puppy named Dent, who accidentally killed a duckling while trying to entice it to play, and whose punishment (dealt out by our evil hostel worker nemesis) was to get a brick thrown at his head. Fortunately he survived, though he had a baseball-sized goose egg on his head and still seemed a bit wobbly when we left.

Our dhow trip out to the Bazaruto Islands

After watching New Years fireworks from the beach, however, we started off on our long trek home. Tired of overcrowded pickup trucks and double-booked coach buses, we decided to take minibuses the entire way to the Zambian border. This proved to be a bit faster and a whole lot less eventful. A couple days later I was back at my site, ready to squeeze some work in before heading to In-Service Training the middle of January. All in all our trip to Mozambique was a great experience, but next time I think I’ll fly!

Rainy Season is Coming to Town

2010-02-01T00:30:00.000-08:00

- December 19, 2009 -

Christmas is just around the corner (the lack of Christmas carols here is deceiving!), which means that here in Zambia, rainy season is just getting into full swing! Unlike America, where rainfall is scattered throughout the year, Zambia's rainfall is entirely concentrated in a six-month period between November and April. (from May to October, there literally won't be a single cloud in the sky!). And the rain here is absolutely fascinating to watch! Thunderstorms take their sweet time rolling in (I can see the storm clouds by mid-morning, but it might not rain until late afternoon), and offer spectacular 360-degree lightning shows accompanied by thunder that rumbles for 30 seconds or a minute from one side to the other across the sky. And the storms come from any direction, defying the influence of any jet streams that may be around.

My yard turns to mush, but my grass roof holds strong during the rainstorms

This wacky weather has a huge impact on my farmers and on how life operates here in Zambia. Without irrigation or farm equipment, neither of which are found in rural Zambia, farming revolves completely around the rains. During the dry season, the ground is too hard to plow by hand, and too dry to plant anything. Thus nowadays my farmers are working double-time to prepare, plow, and plant their fields before too much of the rain has gone by. The Bemba name for the month of December, "Mpundu milimo"( meaning "twin jobs"), reflects this hardworking time of year. After the maize is planted, the workload eases up a bit, but then the "hungry season" kicks in for the months of January and February. During these two months supplies of food from the last harvest are running low, but it's still to early to harvest this year's crop. And the rain wreaks havoc on many vegetable crops like tomato and onions. Thus food will be scarce, right at the time when people are working the hardest. It's no surprise then, to hear that villagers often lose significant weight this time of year.

During the rainy season everything turns green- including my bathing shelter!

The start of rainy season is also an adjustment for me. Biking back from Kasama with 50lbs of clothes and food is no longer a convenient endeavor, since the road now has a foot or two of mud and knee-deep pothole-lakes in many places. Grass and weeds grow like crazy now - a foot per week is not unusual, which means I'm constantly having to dig my house and yard out from under a mountain of weeds. People don't like to go anywhere or do anything while it's raining, so I'm always left guessing whether or not I should travel through the rain to a scheduled meeting. And I'm not very good at predicting the rains just yet (after all, they do come from every direction), so getting stranded in faraway villages is a constant threat. Just yesterday (probably my worst day at site thus far), I was biking home from a village 35km away. Our introductory meeting had run waaaay late, and it started to downpour almost immediately after we left. My counterpart, Ba Elias, and I ended up biking/walking almost 20km in the dark and rain, which took us several hours. It's been a long time since I've been that soaked and miserable. But luckily I used the opportunity for some cultural exchange: I was riding behind Ba Elias and kept losing sight of the road and his outline in the dark. So I taught him how to play Marco-Polo! He'd say "Marco", I'd say "Polo", and we could both keep track of each other while biking home in the dark/rain! So rainy season definitely will require an adjustment, and is full of various inconveniences and annoyances, but I realize that this rainfall is what brings life to the land and allows my farmers' crops to grow.

But because Christmas is coming up, and because my farmers are all busy in the fields, now seemed like a good time to use a few vacation days and see a bit more of Southern Africa. So I'm heading down from Kasama today to meet up with some Central and Eastern volunteers, and we're heading down to Mozambique for Christmas and New Years!

The Finer Points of Life

2009-11-26T23:32:00.000-08:00

I feel like my previous entries have focused mostly on my major events/problems/accomplishments here in Zambia, at the expense of describing all the little everyday adjustments that we PCVs have had to make in order to adapt to a Zambian lifestyle. Thus I've started to compile a list of little tips, tricks, and cultural observations that hopefully will help round out the picture of how everyday life gets along here in Zambia:

When trying to light your charcoal cooking braizure in the rainy season, a little kerosene goes a long ways. Sometimes you can also find dried grass and twigs underneath big trees. If you want to get really creative you can put mashed up peanut shells and melted candle wax into an old egg carton. Or you can just buy fire starters from Shop-Rite.
After getting the braizure started, you have to swing it around to give it air and really get it burning. Just be sure to wear flip flops when you do so. Wnen the inevitable happens and a small coal falls down your footwear, if they take you longer than 0.3 seconds to remove, then you're gonna be in for a major ouchie.
Trying to keep a white t-shirt white when you're washing by hand in a bucket is one of the more difficult and time-intensive chores you will ever attempt. Thus the key to hand-washing clothes is just to never get them dirty in the first place. Corollary to this rule: there is a BIG difference between what IS dirty and what LOOKS dirty - hence the reason why olive and khaki are such amazing clothing colors here.
If you have a problem with bats squatting in your house for the night, just use a candle - works like a charm! Put it in the middle of the floor to avoid any fire hazard, and let it burn all night for two consecutive nights. They hate the light, so they'll find another place to roost!
When hunting mice, rats, and kasekeseke in your house, DON'T reach for just any wooden spoon. As eight such rodents have already discovered, the umwiinko (the flat-sided wooden spoon used for stirring nshima, among other things) is 21.5" and 3/4 lb of dexterity, accuracy, and pure annhiliation for all things squeaky and four-legged. It's SAD for those mice - singularly assured destruction.
When biking in the village there are no posted speed limits. But if you pass by someone's house before you can say "Mwashibuka shani na imwe?", you are probably going too fast, and people will begin to wonder what's so important that you don't have time to greet them properly, which is bad for your precious reputation. Bike at such speeds only in times of emergency (or in your neighboring PCV's village :-) ).
At church, there are MAJOR brownie points to be earned by dancing to the music. Everyone expects people to dance, though few actually dance themselves (yay double standard!), but since you're already the weirdest person in town, you have nothing to lose by sticking your neck out!
On funeral days, you should greet everyone "Mwacuuleni mukwai" - "how are you suffering?" Doesn't matter how far away they live or now close they were to the person who passed away
When someone asks where you're going, it's considered a perfectly acceptable answer to point in the direction you're heading and say "There!".
BaMaayo Magic I: How village mothers manage to clean the bottoms of their pots, how they cook two-gallon pots full of perfectly lumpless nshima, how they carry 40L of water on their heads, and how they manage to find people selling tomato/onion/cabbage are mysteries I have no hope of cracking.
BaMaayo Magic II: The speed of information travel increases significantly when the airwaves are unencumbered by cell phones, radios, broadband, and other newfangled electronic wizardry. If something noteworthy happens 25km away, every mother in the village will know within the hour, guaranteed, without even leaving the comfort of their front porch.
Any of your parent's siblings are considered to be your parents as well, and thus are free to punish you, admonish you, and dish out chores as they see fit.
Do remember what your Chieftainess looks like, so that you aren't always the last one to kneel down when you meet her on the street (By the way, Chieftainship succession rules are pretty neat: the "crown prince" so to speak is not the Chief's eldest son as with Western Cultures, but rather the eldest son of the Chief's eldest sister).

Rockin the Village Life (cont.)

2009-11-26T23:22:00.000-08:00

I'm also really beginning to enjoy all the biking I'm doing. Since I'm 50km from the nearest paved road (there are none in my district), 20km from the nearest vehicle, and since the train only comes on Saturdays, I pretty much rely on my Peace Corps-issued Trek 3700 to get me everywhere. Which is amazing, since biking on all the bumpy, windy bush paths is way more exhilarating than biking the streets of Ann Arbor. I've also been out on some longer trips: to Kasama (85km), and to my nearest PCV neighbors, Jocelyn (20km) and Christine (90km). Saturdays are my exploring days (ukushinguluka in Bemba - "Just circling around"), where I pick a small mountain off in the distance, or a village on the map, and try to go find it. Haven't really been that successful, but it's been a great time explaining the concept of exploring to the bewildered locals.

My village "roads"- either impossible narrow or muddy from the rains, but always fun to bike!

Not all's rosy in Chandaweyaya, though. Besides the lack of mechanized transportation, the food's pretty hit or miss as well. The hits include making peanut butter (its incredibly simple - I don't know why people don't do it back home!), giant bundles of bananas, and the mangoes that are about to come into season. The misses include things like whole fish (*eaten* whole, not just served whole), caterpillars (the little ones are actually alright, but do we have to eat the big black spiky ones too???), and pretty much anything made from dried cassava flour. And in addition to spotty food, I'm fighting off an invasion of bad-mannered, give-an-inch-take-a-mile little kids. They don't ever leave my house. They constantly and repeatedly ask me for everything I own. Every time I do something nice like take their picture, play soccer, cook fritters, or make paper airplanes for them, they all really enjoy it, but i just end up fueling the "Gimme Gimme Gimme" and the "Let's go crowd around Ba Michael while he cooks his meal because we're bored and maybe he'll give us something" fires".

Photographing the kids - don't be fooled by their innocent and fun-loving appearance

But somewhere amidst all this socializing, biking, eating, and chasing away little kids, I'm actually doing some work as well. I've done a bunch of "Community Entry" activities like community mapping, daily activities schedules, and needs assessments, all designed to help me get to know the community members and drive out their strengths, goals, and desires. From these activities I've found a project trying to research methods of making peanut oil (since everyone grows groundnuts, nobody can sell them; but everyone does buy lots of cooking oil). I've also started to teach fish farming lessons to several local farmers. Most of the farmers speak no English, so I've been teaching primarily in Bemba. This is where Ba Elias, my neighbor and Peace Corps - assigned work counterpart, has really begun to shine. We have spent enough time together that he really understands how I speak Bemba. Even when the other farmers are confused by my Bemba wording, Ba Elias usually understands what I was trying to say and is able to re-explain it ("What he's really trying to say in Bemba is ____").

My counterpart, Ba Elias, and footballer friend Ba Isaac, dodging crocs on the Chambeshi

Finishing the Community Mapping activity in my nsaka

The fish ponds of Ba Elias

Ba Elias is also displaying an ever-increasing flair for sarcasm. One day, when I returned from a Chandaweyaya Agricultural Committee meeting, I wanted to confirm that his name was on the all-important Farmer's Register. When I ask him he simply laughs and replies in nearly perfect English "Are you kidding me? I MADE the Farmer's Register! I'm the first name on the list!" (turns out he was the former Chairman of the C.A.C., but I don't know where he learned to say "Are you kidding me?"). I'm fairly certain that after two years, Ba Elias will be not only the most knowledgeable fish farmer in the land, but also the best user of sarcastic English slang expressions. Now that's what I call development!

Rockin the Village Life

2009-11-26T22:35:00.000-08:00

Life in Chandaweyaya continues much as it has for generations: People gather at the local watering holes to wash clothes and chit chat, the men head out into the fields to get their maize and groundnut crops planted before the drenching rains arrive, and everyone gathers in the nsaka in the evenings for dinner and merriment. Except lately there's been this funky white kid set up shop over that side, he dresses really oddly, makes lumpy nshima, looks like he's wearing a wig, and he's running around all over the place telling people they should start farming fish. Worst part is he says he isn't leaving for two years...

Grand Central Station - abandoned but surrounded by well-manicured flowering bushes

The funky white kid with a wig that hasn't been trimmed since late June

Just kidding - it isn't like that at all over here (though some people still do believe I'm wearing a wig)! I'm two months into my three-month community entry, and things are going extremely welll. My village is like a giant, 5000 person family - everyone knows everyone, everyone lives nearby each other, nobody has any qualms about walking through someone's yard or lending out their belongings. We are a very close-knit village, even by Zambian standards. When I go to the market and pass by 30 households along the way, I'm greeted by name by no less than 30 households' worth of people! And when they all pass by my house on their way to the fields (which they do en masse - I can meet most everyone in the village just sitting on my porch), we greet each other again just for kicks!

The view of Chandaweyaya from atop Keyaya Hill

I've also fit in some enlightening conversations about America and American cultural holidays with my neighbors. For example, my neighbors all know now that Obama does NOT rule over the entirety of North and South America, that not everyone is a farmer in the U.S., and that people still feel full even when they don't eat nshima for dinner. They can point out Michigan on the map, and some can even use their hand to point out Kalamazoo! They have a particular interest in holidays: I've told them how kids dress up, run around and collect sweeties for Halloween, and how Thanksgiving is our big harvest celebration (their eyes lit up when I described a turkey as being like a 7kg chicken, and they promptly inquired as to how they could obtain them here in Chandaweyaya).

My neighbors

My favorite place to chat, though, is the house of Ba Emmanuel and Ba Rosemary. They are two of the most accepting and witty people I've met in the village; instead of concentrating on all my stuff like most people, they are more interested in learning about our holidays and traditions, which is a welcome relief. To give you an idea of their fun-loving nature: when I first met them I accidentally called the wife "Ba Rosie" as I couldn't quite remember her name. She immediately burst out laughing, and ever since has been calling me "Ba Mikey". So of course Ba Emmanuel jumped into the action, and we are now "Ba Manny, Ba Rosie, and Ba Mikey!" And just to ice the cake, I show up one day in a nice fish-themed citenge shirt, only to find that Ba Rosie is wearing the exact same citenge wrapped around her head! Even in Africa people still have wardrobe coordination issues!

Ba Rosie and our matching outfits!! Though teaching kids to use a camera is really hard here.

<---- New mailing address!

2009-10-08T05:48:00.001-07:00

Since I'm going to be in Kasama far more frequently than Lusaka, I've got a new mailing address:

Michael Krautmann /PCV
Peace Corps
P.O. Box 410374
Kasama, Zambia

Nganda Yandi (My Home)

2009-10-08T05:38:00.000-07:00

--October 4, 2009--

Well, folks, I made it! After a 12-hour Land Rover ride to Kasama, and from there an 80km journey through what has been dubbed "The Worst Road in Northern Province," I finally arrived at my village of Chandaweyaya (or Keyaya, depending on your preference for long words) on September 29.

My home, complete with brick-lined driveway!

Despite its seclusion it is really a busy place. There are about 5000 people in the Chandaweyaya catchment area, spread out over 11 smaller villages. We have a stop on the Kapiri -> Dar es Salaam railway, and a fairly substantial maize storehouse for all the surrounding area. The area lies on a couple of beautiful dambo valleys, which drain into the nearby Chambeshi River. Unfortunately the Chambeshi I'm told is "infested" with crocs and hippos. Also, the school is fairly large, and the head teachers all seem like genuinely friendly and competent fellows.

The front porch

Inside the living room (sorry 'bout the Stuff Piles)

The 'busu and the bathing shelter

My house itself is truly a testament to Zambian resourcefulness. Except for the cement on my floor and the plastic lining my roof (both extraneous luxuries provided by the Peace Corps), everything used to build the house came from the earth less than 100 yards away. Bricks are made from anthill clay and fired, mortared together with more anthill clay. The roof is supported by wooden beams, and is made of grass that was cut from the field across the street. The floor (until the cement came) was made of stamped earth, and veneered with still more anthill clay. Everything is tied together using strips of super-supple bark from a few species of trees in my yard. Even the paint used for my house: white, yellow, orange, grey, and black, is all distilled from nearby soil. Thes amazing thing is that it's a LEGITIMATELY nice house too! A sofa, coffee table, and a few posters on the wall should make it as comfortable as any apartment I've lived in at school. Everything's great - except for the cell phone reception. I have to climb the 30-foot antill outside my house to get even a bar of service, and I have to hike 2km to the school to get enough reception to talk.

Mt. Reception, the anthill outside my house where I can get a bit of service

The view from atop Mt. Reception

My Nsaka (basically an outdoor living room)

But the best part is that the villagers are all extremely friendly and extremely happy to have a volunteer. I'm the first Peace Corps volunteer (and probably the first white guy) ever to live in their community, so there's surely going to be some serious cultural exchange (like gift-giving for example: I found out the hard way that Zambians don't open gifts in public when I bought Cokes for myself and my counterpart and he promptly shoved both of them into his bag, returning the empty bottles with much gratitude the next day).
For the first few months my job is simply to ride around and get to know the area and the people. So that's all I've been up to so far. The community, however already has plans for me to lead an English study group and to teach a few grades at the local school (and play goalie on their championship caliber inter-village football team, a task I'm not sure I'm up for). In short, I think Chandaweyaya should be a pretty nice place to set up shop for the next two years!

PCT --> PCV!

2009-10-08T05:22:00.000-07:00

--September 25, 2009--

The day we've all been waiting for has finally come - the day when we all shave/bathe for the first time in five weeks, don our most ridiculous citenge outfits, and officially make the plunge from Peace Corps Trainees to Peace Corps Volunteers!

Starting the morning off with fine dress and hearty laughter

The Northern Province Crew

Our swearing-in ceremony, held this morning at the house of the U.S. Ambassador, was quite the festive and emotional affair. I couldn't believe how well everyone cleaned up! We all had spent the past couple of weeks frantically trying to get our citenge outfits tailored, so it was a real treat to see how well everyone's turned out (I kept it close to home with a Maize and Blue citenge shirt). I also got to give a speech in Bemba during the ceremony, on behalf of all the Bemba students, which was intended to be serious but somehow ended up being raucously funny (I'm not sure I'll ever find out why)! In general, the day was full with lots of congratulating, photographing, joking, hugging, and laughing. It's hard to believe that only nine weeks ago we were all seated nervously and awkwardly in the conference room of the D.C. Holiday Inn as perfect strangers. Now it's like we're family. When some of the existing volunteers come back to Chongwe for training, THEY'RE the ones who are all nervous and awkward as they try to decipher our relationships and nicknames and inside jokes.

Ba Sikota, our training manager, making an appearance in traditional Lozi dress

Practicing for our speeches!

Delivering the speech!

But at the same time the laughter, hugs and pictures all carried a bittersweet tinge. We all knew that the intensity, intimacy, and proximity that forged such tight friendships is about to come to a close when we get shipped out to our respective provinces tomorrow. It's just now hitting home that nine weeks is far too short a time to really get to know someone, and far too short a time to spend amongst such good company. And what's more, we're all going to be together again for only four more weeks over the next two years. Of course the friendships will still remain, and we'll still be able to visit each other at site. But without electricity, internet, transportation, or reliable cell phone reception, planning such outings is going to be a slow and laborious process. We're probably not going to get to visit everyone we want to. So while Swear-In day was outrageously enjoyable and memorable, it also marks a rather abrupt separation from the comfort, friendship, and immediate support of our fellow trainees.

Our aquaculture trainers, "Big P" and "Scorpion"

My language class with Ba Whiteson, our teacher

Culture Day - American Style

2009-10-08T05:15:00.000-07:00

--September 23, 2009--

Today marks an exciting and nostalgic first for me: the first day since my arrival in Zambia that I actually felt like I was back in America. Such a monumental occurrence came on Culture Day- a Peace Corps Zambia tradition where the normal roles are reversed and the volunteers cook American food for the host families.

Preparing for the feast (I made about 40kg of fruit salad and helped flip tortillas)

Any kind of event where 40 people are teaming together to cook food for 250 people is bound to be interesting. But there was something extra special about this Culture Day; it was like we'd managed to carve out a little chunk of America and ship it over. Maybe it was all the hubbub and confusion that inevitably cropped up, so reminiscent of college life and so foreign here in Zambia. Maybe it was the good ol' American food: fajitas, jambalaya, caesar salad, no-bake cookies. But I think what reminded me most about America was standing outside barbecueing chicken and flipping tortillas with an LSU, a Tennessee, and a Michigan State alum and a diehard Cal fan, talking smack about the coming weekend's football games. That right there is the America I know and love, and for one day we had a taste of it here in Zambia!

My host mom and dad - excited that they don't have to do the cooking!

A Good One's Gone Away

2009-10-08T05:12:00.000-07:00

--September 20, 2009--

She wears a broad, beaming smile as a near-permanent fixture upon her face, and exudes such a genuine sense of warmth and kindness that even a culturally awkward chap like myself cannot help but feel comfortable around her. She understands the thoughts and frustrations of a Bemba student even better than our professionally-trained Bemba teachers. And her motivation and perseverence are unsurpassed. Even these past couple of weeks, when she was visibly sick, she managed to show off her pearly whites every now-and-then. Oh and by the way she cooks the best pot of nshima in Chongwe district.

But yesterday the Lord decided he couldn't wait any longer to get his paws on such prodigious talent.

I came home from class yesterday to find that my host Auntie, Ba Justina, had died somewhat unexpectedly from a tumor in her abdomen. I had known that she was ill - after all, that was the only reason she was living here in Chongwe with my host family. But I was still surprised at how fast her condition must have deteriorated. She's been to Lusaka several times for treatment, but for some reason her surgery kept getting delayed (I could speculate why, but that would only lead me on a useless rant about the Zambian [lack of a] healthcare system). Suffice it to say I think her condition was treatable, which makes this mourning all the more frustrating.

But what's also been surprising is the Zambian way of mourning their dead. The whole community has responded - there must have been 40 people there yesterday - but no one seems to be overly sad or concerned. All the women sit inside, laughing and chatting. All the men sit around the fire and talk politics and football like they're at a tailgate. I can tell that deep down inside, many of them are grieving, especially my host father. He smiles a little more faintly and stops laughing a little more quickly than usual, but it seems that Zambian culture does not permit him to express this grief.

Per Peace Corps policy, I have been pulled from my home to ease the burden on my host family, so I'm now staying at our school, in the dorms where our trainers live. I'm expecting to go back tomorrow, but we're going to be moving out pretty soon anyways. I certainly didn't expected my homestay to end on such a somber note.

Zambia in just Four Words

2009-10-08T05:00:00.000-07:00

--September 3, 2009--

A tip of the cap to the HIA folks back home for sparking this conversation, and to the rest of my Northern Province crew for turning it into a vibrant discussion / eight-hour-long brainstorming session as we sat crammed in a Land Rover on our way up to Kasama (by the way we are getting exponentially better at cramming into Land Rovers - our new records are 14 people inside and nine bicycles on top!!). So I share with you now the highly-refined and oft-amended fruits of our discussion: four words that capture our experience in Zambia thus far.

1. Citenge: Because this traditional African clothing epitomizes both the resourcefulness and the colorful nature of the Zambian people. When all is said and done, the citenge is really nothing more than a towel-sized sheet of fabric. But Zambians use them for just about everything imaginable: A dress, a skirt, something to wrap around your dress/skirt while cooking, carrying babies on your back, carrying water on your head, shielding your head from the sun, backpack, curtain, towel, tablecloth, doormat, coffee filter, etc etc etc. Not only are they insanely versatile, but they also come in the most insane array of colors and patterns imaginable. And one is not truly a Zambian unless he/she is wearing the most insanely-colored citenge money can buy.

2. Celestial: Because of the powerful African sun, which has an uncanny ability to turn the bone-chilling, 50-degree coldness of my early-morning language sessions into the sweltering bake-fest that is my 13:00 bike ride to aquaculture class. Because of the moon, so bright that I can officially walk, play soccer, and even read outside without luminary assistance. And because for once in my life I can actually see the Milky Way cutting a bright white swath from one horizon to the other.

3. Ancestral: Because everything about this landscape just feels so...evolutionarily well-adjusted. The ridges and valleys here are extremely subtle - yet wide - so despite the seeming flatness you can often see for miles. The savannah grasses are thick but only chest-high, so they seldom impede your vision (unless you stop to tie your shoe, in which case you can't see more than three feet). And between the grass and the sticky clay soil you can build just about anything. It just makes so much sense why our ape ancestors decided to stand up and use their eyes and hands. After living in the savannah and walking the bush paths around our school, it's finally hit home: here in Zambia I'm a human in his natural habitat.

4. Ubwali: The Bemba word for nshima, because no list would be complete without this Zambian staple food. The people of Zambia believe that their nshima gives them strength which no other food can provide. In fact, many Zambians believe they haven't really eaten until they've eaten nshima. And the manner in which nshima is eaten - using hands instead of utensils, and served in one big community bowl - speaks to the openness, warmth, and family-centered mentality of the Zambian people.

In other news, our second site visit is going by in a blur. I got to teach my first fish-farming lesson (about different types of fish here in Zambia) to a local co-operative of about 40 people or so. We also took a really interesting hike out to some 2000-year old, pre-Bantu rock paintings near Kasama. Another day we had a rather exciting encounter with a drunk Zambian policeman who was wielding his AK-47 more casually than a kid with a cap gun! Most importantly, though, I'm having a great time with a bunch of the other Northern Province volunteers - my family for the next two years!

On the Great North Road to Kasama with a fully-loaded cruiser

The new Northern Province aquaculture volunteers: Mo, John, myself, and Christine

One of those wide sweeping valleys I was talking about

Biking on the bush path during second site visit

Sporting our leafy greens!

I'm going to Northern Province!!!

2009-08-29T05:43:00.001-07:00

Just got my official site posting, and I'm headed to a site just northeast of Kasama in Northern Province. I'll be the first Peace Corps volunteer ever at that site (no pressure or anything!), and I'm leaving tomorrow (the 30th) to head up to Kasama for a week and a half. I'll let you know more when I get back!

Training Time

2009-08-29T05:25:00.000-07:00

-- August 23rd, 2009 --

Life here in Zambia just keeps on trucking at breakneck pace. Two days after returning from our first site visit we were assigned to a language group (I’ll be learning Bemba!) and taken to live with our host families, where we will stay until the end of September. I’ll never forget the incredible nervousness, excitement, and anticipation we all experienced on that first night of homestay. A group of us - John, Leah, Angela, MaryEllen, Ashley, and I - were stuffed into the back of a Land Rover (again…), rehearsing our simple Bemba greeting more intensely than we’ve ever rehearsed anything in our lives! One-by-one the volunteers all said their anxious goodbyes, hopped out of the Land Rover and into the welcoming arms of their host family, anxiously reciting the aforementioned greeting to much smiles and applause. And just like that they were gone, disappearing into the sunset as we continued to the next volunteer’s house. It was at once a sad and exciting time - sad that our amazing Group of 42 was finally being separated, but exciting in that we each could look forward to our own unique homestay experience.

My new home at Ba Enock and Ba Robina's place

And for these past couple of weeks my homestay family has been absolutely incredible. My host father is 65 years young (and by young I mean not-a-single-grey-hair-on-his-head young), a retired Army contractor who is originally from Copperbelt province. My mother, also from Copperbelt Province, is the quintessential family matriarch - the one who really runs the show around this place. She has a quick and hearty laugh, and despite my dire warnings she has showed no qualms about entrusting me with the family cooking from time to time. I also have a host auntie who has been a truly unexpected blessing. She is in town only because she is sick (she’s waiting for surgery in Lusaka) but she is all smiles all the time. Every day she eagerly and patiently helps me through my often-futile attempts at constructing full Bemba sentences, and to her persistence I owe much of my current vocabulary. I also have a pair of teenage host brothers who are football-crazed maniacs, a trio of host sisters who love to play cards, and a whole gaggle of young kids, most of whom are probably not actually related to my family.

My host aunt, Justina, and Joshua, one of the chitlins around the house

Making nshima!

Our Peace Corps training here in Chongwe has been pretty intense thus far, but also incredibly rewarding. Every morning I meet with three other volunteers and a language trainer to learn Bemba for four hours straight. Learning language for four hours per day is quite mentally taxing, but boy is it effective! I’ve studied Spanish for five years and Chinese for two-and-a-half, and yet I think after these nine weeks of training I will be more proficient in Bemba than I ever was in those other languages.

After Bemba class I typically eat lunch with my host family and then bike eight or nine kilometers down the road (unpaved of course) to get to my technical fish-farming sessions. We do all sorts of crazy fish-farming activities in these sessions: we’ve measured and staked out a pond for construction, transported small fingerlings by bike for 13km, held fish-food-finding competitions, and actually harvested a local farmer’s pond. In the coming weeks we will perform a second, more serious harvest, which we may get a chance to sell in the local Chongwe market!

Looking forward, everyone here is holding their breath for next Thursday (the 27th), which is when we find out exactly which site we will be going to. As a Bemba speaker I know I will be going to either Central, Northern, or Luapula Province, but I’m still waiting on the specific details. And during the first week of Septembe we will go on a second, more extended site visit that will include a two-day stay at my site-to-be. So in two-weeks time I will be able to tell you all about the place in which I will be living for the next two years! But until then, stay well and enjoy those last few days of summer back in the States!

Field trip to Copperbelt Province

2009-08-29T05:13:00.000-07:00

-- July 29, 2009 --

WOW! The Peace Corps certainly doesn’t waste any time getting our feet wet! After only four days in Zambia, the trainers split us up into small groups and sent us out into the bush to live with a current volunteer for a few days. What an adventure! My group of six trainees (plus our Host Volunteer, a driver, a stowaway Training leader, and luggage/food for everyone) all got stuffed into a single Land Rover for a ten-hour drive out to Copperbelt Province, where we received a brief but enlightening taste of life as a PC-Zambia volunteer.

Tight squeeze in the back of the Land Rover

Living conditions here are pretty spartan - I can see why Zambia has a reputation as the Peace Corps' most remote outpost. Volunteers live as one of the villagers, which usually means a small thatched-roof, mud-brick hut with no electricity or running water, using a pit latrine, cooking over an open charcoal fire, and taking bucket baths with water drawn from a well. Our site visit was no different.

Camping outside our host volunteer's mud-brick hut

THE 'BUSU!!! (short for 'icimbusu', the Bemba word for toilet)

But despite all the conveniences of my technologically superior Western upbringing, it's been surprisingly easy to adapt to this new Zambian lifestyle. In fact, the slower pace and lack of technology has in many ways been quite rewarding. Waking and sleeping with the daylight hours just feels so much more natural than those 1am college nights. And after a hard day's work under the scorching African sun, I actually really look forward to a crisp, refreshing, beneath-the-stars bucket bath. I've found that a book reads just a little bit better when its words are flickering in the candlelight, and I’m still discovering new possibilities in the world of one-pot cooking. I must admit I’m even becoming a fan of squat toilets (The genius of their design is that only the bottoms of your shoes ever touch anything dirty - imagine the wonders this could do at those appallingly-filthy gas station bathrooms back home)!

The highlight of our trip, however, was the day we spent meeting some of our host volunteer’s fish farmers. He made a point to introduce us to both his “good” and “bad” farmers, and the contrast was eye-opening. At one extreme was the farmer who designed and built his own two ponds, maintained them perfectly, and even developed his own farm integration system to irrigate his crops with excess fish-pond water (super-fertilized fish pond water works wonders on a maize crop). With the extra money he earned he’s managed to build a new house and put his kids through school. He also developed an appreciation for reading and wants to start a local library.

Checking out the local fish ponds!

On the other extreme was the farming co-op, which in theory wanted to have fish ponds but was unwilling to put in the work necessary to build and maintain the ponds. Instead they spend their time trying to secure free handouts, supplies, and labor from passing non-profit organizations. In the short term they benefit greatly from all those free goodies, but once the donors leave they are back in the same hole they've always been in. This co-op farmers had developed such a dependency on foreign aid that they'd lost sight of their own ability to generate income through hard work and an open mind. It was very disappointing to witness, but it’s a big problem here in Sub-Saharan Africa, where there are a ton of aid organizations spending a ton of money, but relatively few groups who have the skills and perseverence (emphasis on perseverance!) necessary to turn that money into truly sustainable improvements in the lives of Africans. That's why I'm in Peace Corps :-)

IAMFINEHOWAREYOU!!!

2009-08-22T05:45:00.000-07:00

--JULY 24, 2009 ---

Well, folks, it took four airplanes and ~22 hours of flight time, but I successfully made it to Zambia in one piece, along with 41 other superawesome Peace Corps Zambia trainees (yes, Hitchhiker fans, that means 42 of us total)! After convening in Washington D.C. for a day-long meet-and-greet, the entire group departed together on July 22nd for the Zambian capital of Lusaka. The whole trip was a rather surreal experience, filled with the complete range of human emotional expression. At one end were the teary goodbyes and thoughts of "what have I gotten myself into?" as I departed Kalamazoo. But that quickly turned to nervous excitement as I arrived in the D.C. airport, and began bumping into and meeting the other Volunteers (with their predictable age range and absurdly high luggage:person ratio, Peace Corps volunteers are surprisingly easy to spot in a crowded airport). And finally, by the time we'd all finished our D.C. -> Dakar -> Johannesburg -> Lusaka marathon, we were all chatting and joking like we'd been friends for years!

After arriving in Lusaka to the cheers and high-fives of PC-Zambia staff and volunteers, we hopped in the back of a Land Rover (our new favorite form of transport) and headed to a local government hostel just outside Lusaka. We've been staying there for the past few days getting our vaccinations and meeting the training staff, and we'll soon be heading out into the bush (i.e. getting thrown into the fire) on our first volunteer site visit. So far, though, Zambia seems like an incredible place; here are a few observations I've made thus far:

- Despite sharing a border with such conflicted countries as Zimbabwe, D.R. Congo, and Angola (or maybe because of that fact), Zambian culture seems to be obsessed with peacefulness. When a Zambian asks me what I think of their country, the greatest compliment I can give is to say "Zambia is peaceful" Rather than resort to violence, the 72 Tribes of Zambia seem perfectly content teasing each other good-naturedly about their various tribal stereotypes (i.e. Bembas are lazy, Nyanjas are dumb, Tongas are wierd, etc), and they are proud of the fact that they don't fight each other.

- Nshima, the Zambian staple food, also seems to hold a cult-like status. Nshima is a maize-based dough (think extrk-thick polenta) that you mold into small clumps with your hands, and then use to pick up other relishes like cabbage or chicken. It's really amazing, and I can see why people like it, but the extent to which Zambians revere this starchy substance is rather surprising. I've already heard several Zambians complain of moderate -to- severe lack of nourishment after being forced to "settle" for rice or pasta for a week.

- English may be the official language, but the only English I've heard spoken by native Zambians (apart from our PC trainers) is the word "IAMFINEHOWAREYOU!?!?" Yes, it is one word, and it is the only greeting I typically receive from anyone under the age of 20 (though I do receive the occasional "YOUAREFINE!!"). However, learning the main greetings of the two local languages - Bemba and Nyanja - scores me big points with the over-50 crowd. A simple "Muli Shani!" works like magic to induce beaming smiles (and rapid responses that I cannot understand) in all of the older folks I meet.

Well, that's about it for now. we're finishing up all our initial orientation session in Lusaka, and getting ready to head out to visit some current volunteers' sites. I'll let you know how that goes!

Welcome!

2009-07-02T08:39:00.000-07:00

Hello family and friends! I plan to use this journal to chronicle my experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Zambia. For the next two years I'll be working with the Zambian government to establish and develop small aquaculture (fish-farming) businesses to help boost the income of rural communities. This means learning about local aquaculture methods, teaching small business skills, and building organizational capacity in local farming networks.

My journey begins on July 21 in Washington DC, where I will meet for two days with other newly-minted PC-Zambia volunteers. Then we will all fly to Zambia together for 9 weeks of training before being shipped off to our assigned posts.

If you find something interesting, have news/stories from home to share, or are suddenly struck by a brilliant international development idea, please do send me a comment, an email, or an old-fashioned snail mail letter. Snail mail is particularly welcome since I will likely be without electricity most of the time. I will always keep my address up-to-date on the sidebar <--