Bump!

I had my first real run-in with a Zambian bus driver today, when he decided to ignore all traffic rules (which is a very popular national past-time for drivers here) and drive up the middle of a busy road, seemingly unaware of hitting cars on both sides, knocking wing mirrors in and generally causing chaos. Only when there was lots of horn-honking and shouting through open windows (I may have been one of those shouting!) did he stop moving forward before he sideswiped me. There was nowhere for me to go due to large rocks placed on the side of the road (to stop the popular ‘off-roading’ around backed up traffic).

I drove on a few metres and pulled off the road, to check the damage and try to figure out what I was meant to do.

After some locals threatening to call the police (amidst accusations of drink-driving and carelessness), everyone cleared off (the first to abandon ship were his paying passengers). Another motorist and victim of his reckless driving was speaking to him in a local dialect ( of which I understood the word ‘brakes’, ‘alcohol’ and ‘drunk’ in English and the Nyenja for ‘stop it’,) when I asked her ‘What was he saying about brakes?’, she tutted, ignored me and left as well because she was late for a funeral. Which left me standing at the roadside with the alleged drunk bus driver and his helper. I was only still standing there because she said she was calling the police and I thought she might need my statement! Joke!

Luckily I was unharmed, and the wing-mirror was merely knocked out-of-place – there is a trace of paint on it where he knocked it back, I was amazed it didn’t fall off. Good job, Nissan.

Having taken his license plate details myself, I am now wondering what exactly to do with it?

Victoria Falls

Waterberry Lodge, March 9th.

The day started early. We were up at dawn and off to Chundukwa River Lodge for a morning horse ride through the bush.

My horse was a male called Ringside – a sweetheart who, unfortunately, did not feel the same way about me. He dragged me though several thorn bushes and tried to buck me off a couple of times. I was very proud of the men of the family, neither of whom had ever been on horseback before; they rose (or rode) to the occasion in the spirit of family adventure.

According to my daughter the ride was too tame and slow, but she will no doubt go on a more exciting ride very soon in Lusaka, without us amateurs!

From the lodge we drove through Livingstone to the very manicured and posh Royal Livingstone to join the crew who would take us to Livingstone Island for breakfast. This is the vantage point from which Dr David Livingstone first saw the Falls, and named them after Queen Victoria.

We just thought we were going for Breakfast. I will let the photos speak for themselves, but let me just note that this was an awesome first ever view of the Mosi-oa-Tunya.

While at the Island, we met the most amazing couple. They were visiting Zambia from the UK, celebrating their 60 year wedding anniversary. They were both over 80, but they are still the most adventurous couple I have ever met. For their 50th anniversary they hiked into and out of the Grand Canyon. They were doing toboggan runs at the age of 70. When we declined to let the kids swim to the edge of the Falls in the baby pool (the river was flowing at such a terrifying speed) I half expected Jack and Joan to come back soaked to the waist and whooping like a couple of kids. Sadly they didn’t, but they certainly know how to enjoy themselves. Inspiring.

We wasted a bit of time after breakfast checking out the Zambezi Sun (we prefer Waterberry lodge), generally just killing time while the weather took a turn for the worse; it is what we do best.

We visited the Victoira Falls World Heritage Site in a thunder storm; crossed the metal Knife Edge bridge while forked lightening lit up the Eastern Cascades and got well and truly drenched by the spray.  Some say Rainy Season is not a good time of year to see the Falls, but it was spectacular. As we were setting off along the footpath towards the viewpoint, a baby cobra slid across the path and into the woods. Still deadly, even if it was only small.

10th March
Back at the lodge all was calm and relaxed by the pool. Children studied, adults relaxed and read quietly by the river. The wind picked up, a few branches dropped off trees and… wait a minute, that branch isn’t a branch, it’s a snake. As it slithered into the bush, climbed the bush and into the tree, Kevin, one of the lodge managers, appeared and identified it as a Black Mamba. By the time I got the camera it had disappeared. Yikes. Deadly even though it was just a baby. Enough excitement for one day.

11th March
The visit to the Victoria Falls Bridge was quite an eye opener. Again, quiet due to the season I believe, however there were some brave (mad) souls who felt the need to dive off the bridge toward the raging Zambezi below, before being yanked unceremoniously up and down for a few more moments by their bound ankles before being slowly hoisted back to relative safety. They call this madness bungee jumping, and of course my 14 and 17 year olds are desperate to do it. They can stay desperate until they are old enough to do it without my permission or my presence. They offer the choice of three activities on the bridge: bungee jumping, gorge swing ( like the bungee but you go feet first and swing out over the gorge on a metal line) and the gorge slide, which is a zip wire from the side of the gorge to the bride. So naturally I only let them do a tandem gorge slide, which of course is disappointing because there is less likelihood that you will a) die b) be severely maimed or c) wrench your back, neck legs and everything else and need physio for the next 49 years. Ah well. I’m a mother, it’s my job to be the ‘Fun Police’.

Next on the agenda was the rather sad Reptile Park down the road. While paying our entrance fees we noticed they were selling Croc Sticks. We asked politely what they were, and were told ‘Ah yes, you can buy, 25 kwacha’. On further questioning we were told the croc meat comes from a farm which rears them for food, hence on days when the cafe is actually open you can enjoy ‘Croc Bites’. Not a crocodile conservation project then… Otherwise that’s like going to the RSPCA and being offered Cat Stew or Collie Kebabs.

They do undertake some education programs for locals, so they may learn to understand the behavior and actions of crocodiles. They hope to instil in locals a respect for the beasts as well, although I think this country has a long way to go in terms of animal welfare. I have heard many times ‘The only good snake is a dead snake’ and there are also misconceptions about chameleons and owls which probably go back centuries, linked to witch doctors and superstition.

Anyway, our guide took us along the battered, rickety walkways to show us their selection of adult crocodiles. Having had their weekly feed two days earlier, they were particularly lethargic whilst they sought a bit of sunshine to warm their bodies which they need in order to digest the last meal. We were disappointed to have missed it, but the guide tormented them mildly with a stick to demonstrate how the crocodile cannot attack something from the front, they must turn their head do attack with the corners of their mouths.

We were able to view black mambas, cobras and pythons safely behind glass this time, but weren’t allowed to handle the ‘safe’ snakes on account of their likelihood to vomit so recently after a meal. Charming, eh?!

The highlight was being able to handle a baby croc (my daughter is the brave one), but the whole excursion felt rather like when you visit a seaside town a the end of the summer season.

Baby Croc

On the way home we clocked a giraffe having his dinner by the side of the road – what a handsome fellow he was!

Next – birding on the Zambezi!

Taonga School, Lusaka

Taonga pupils Reception – Grade 3

Posers!

This community school is part of Old MacDonald’s Farm project in Lusaka, Zambia.  Taonga schoo

l is currently free for all the children, who all come from poor families and cannot afford government schools. They each have been given a red polo shirt to wear as uniform, although they do not all wear them every day, as you can s

Grade 1 pupils at Taonga School

ee. No strict uniform code here!

 

The children are aged between 3 years and 14 years old. However, as the designated upper age limit is 12 years, many of them claim every year on their birthday they are turning 12…

There are 3 classes in total: a ‘Reception’ or Kindergarten class, a Grade 1 class and then a Grade 2/3 mixed class. With over 50 children, and another 60 or so on the waiting list, the limited resources are stretched very thin.  The school consists of three tiny adjoining rooms, and most resources are also stored there.  A termite infestation over the Christmas break ruined a door, the ceiling in one of the rooms and some of the furniture.  Luckily Abi, the teacher and founder of the school, had packed her books and other termite-edible resources away in plastic boxes, or the damage could have been far worse.

The school is desperately in need of resources, particularly reading scheme books. The children are also very much in need of clothing: any donated items which are not suitable for these children are redistributed locally to families or orphanages as appropriate. Any large items for teenage boys can be used by the Secondary school boys who live in the orphanage run by the MacDonalds.

I started volunteering here in January, working with the Grade 1 class which consists of 18 children.  We are teaching Literacy, Maths and Phonics, and covering additonal topics within these crucial subject areas. My main focus at the moment with Grade 1 is to encourage the children to practice speaking in English. The ‘official’ language of Zambia is English, although none of the 54 children currently enrolled would cite English as their native language. Most speak Nyanja, some also speak Bemba, and a few speak another local language as well. This is all before coming to school and being bombarded with English spoken in various accents depending on who is helping out that day!

Consider your own experiences with the English language. My Kiwi friends have different words and pronunciation for various ordinary every day objects; I have some funny stories about that –  you know who you are!  I personally often lapse into ‘Americanisms’ which flummox my British friends; ‘Northern England’ English can be confusing just by the accent, never mind the speed at which they often speak (I’m allowed to say that, my husband is one)! And anyone NOT from Scotland: have you ever tried to understand someone from the North East coast or Glasgow in full flow? It’s a minefield, quite honestly.  Even if it IS your first language.

So at the moment, we have myself (accent fluctuating between English and American on a regular basis), Abi (English), Sam (South African) and a helper visiting from near Manchester with a Northern accent. Oh, and the MacDonalds who come from Scotland. You have got to hand it to these kids, they may look blankly at us sometimes but who can blame them? Most of the time, they take it in their stride and laugh. They also laugh at me when I try to speak Nyanja, but that’s fine with me.

Muli bweno. (Hi/How are you?)

I’m off to Livingstone this weekend to see Victoria Falls – I cannot wait. I will post some photos, assuming it’s not in such full spate that we can’t see anything at all.  I am optimistic…!

Rain: I think this is (finally) it!

Here we go!

We have a lovely new ‘pond’, or ‘mosquito farm’.

Safari on the Zambezi: Part I

You may notice that I haven’t blogged for over a month. It is always amazing how busy I feel, yet when someone says ‘So, what have you been up to?’,  I find it difficult to justify what has taken all my time.

The rains are holding off, even now at the end of November. Locals will give opposing views on the weather. Some will tell you, ‘It’s always like this. We get two rain storms at first, then we have to wait for the real rains to come’.  Others will claim that this year is unusual, and that normally it ALWAYS rains on Independence Day (24 October).

We were glad for purely selfish reasons, as we drove down to the Lower Zambezi National Park at the end of October to stay at Kanyemba Lodge.  This is quite a luxury option, with beautiful chalets to stay in like this one:

It was wonderful, I would recommend Kanyemba if you are planning a safari with children over 12 years.  (Many of the activities available are off limits to younger children for safety reasons. They are permitted to stay at the lodge but  activities such as  game drives and canoe safaris are not permitted.)

The Kanyemba staff were attentive without being intrusive and their guides were knowledgeable and reassuring. Whilst back at the lodge, life was very relaxing.

But for me, it was all about the animals.

The day we arrived, our guide Tommy took us out on a sunset cruise down the Zambezi river.  It was magical: our first experience of Zambian wildlife, and we were not disappointed.  We bumped against the bank next to a resting crocodile (who slid silently into the water just in front of my children… yikes).  We saw many pods of hippos, poking their eyes out of the water at us. One or two yawned as well, but of course I wasn’t quick enough to capture that.

Then Tommy spotted this beautiful lady, completely spent after catching a kudu on her own:

She was exhausted, and we watched her for at least ten minutes while she lapped water from the river’s edge.  I will refrain from posting the photo of her kill out of respect for readers of a more sensitive nature!

These guys captivated me as well.  There is something very appealing about a submerged hippo. 

Are the rains coming?

 credit  There has been great deal of talk about the rain here. It is interesting mainly in its absence. We’d had approximately 4 drops since we arrived in August (in direct contrast with weather experienced recently by friends and family in the US and Europe), until yesterday.  Having waited over two months for it, I must say the downpour was disappointingly short-lived. With no more than 20 minutes worth of light rain, it was the thunder which was more noticeable, partly due to the terror it always instills in the dog.  The weather was considerably cooler all day, though – which was a nice change to the 34 ℃ we’ve enjoyed recently. However, I am expecting that this is the start of  the long-awaited ‘rainy season’.  I am curious to see how the weather behaves, as I have had a mixture of reports – from ‘It rains for two weeks’ to ‘It will be glorious, then it will rain for 20 minutes and the sun comes out again’.  I have also heard that all the ditches fill up (including the shallow one around the house – I’m picturing a mini-moat), people say it becomes a bit more dangerous as you can’t see the potholes on the road, and the trees grow so quickly that they begin to cause problems to the overhead power lines.

The BBC weather forecast predicts more thundery showers today (sorry pooch!) and heavy rain tomorrow.  Watch this space. If it is dramatic, I post some photos of my own!

Our friends in the trees

Aren’t they cute?

Chikumbuso Widows and Orphans Project

I became aware of this project a couple of weeks ago – I had seen recycling bins dotted around town for plastic carrier bags – this is remarkable mainly because other than glass drink bottles (i.e. Coca-cola/Pepsi/Fanta/the local Mosi beer) NOTHING can be recycled here. The bins caught my attention. Then I visited a retailer who was selling handbags bags made from these recycled plastic bags. What a clever idea!

It turns out that the recycled bag project is one of many undertaken by the Chikumbuso Widows and Orphans Project in the Ng’ombe compound in Lusaka. They have a Primary school with 350 pupils, and they arrange sponsors for older children to continue their education after 6th grade. They find sponsors for orphans ($250 per year makes a world of difference) and grandmothers who have been raising their orphaned grandchildren. And it goes on. I met a couple of the widows today, along with one of the wonderful volunteers, and I bought this bag.

I have some minor reservations – they are not really objections and I can’t really stand by them as I am as guilty as the next customer. You see, the bags were originally made ENTIRELY from recycled carrier bags. The market for the eco-friendly, ‘uglier’ bags is somewhat limited, so they use a greater amount of purchased plastic now, to accommodate customers’ needs. My bag contains some recycled supermarket bags, but more of the material was crocheted from purchased plastic. It is a moral dilemma; I wanted to help by buying a bag, but I wanted one that I would be likely to use regularly and not just leave it sitting in the wardrobe. However the reason I liked the project so much from word go, is that they were recycling. As I mentioned, there is no real infrastructure here to deal with the extent of household waste, recycling and the sheer quantity of plastic and glass that the recent development of Lusaka has clearly created. Many people burn their rubbish: of course glass and tins do not burn away, and plastic burns but smells awful and releases goodness knows what quantity of toxins into the air.

So – by now buying their plastic instead of recycling used bags, are the widows of Chikumbuso becoming part of the problem, instead of going some way to relieve it? Having said all of that, theirs was not, I don’t think, ever an environmental  issue - it was a survival issue. These women and children were destitute: there was no money for food or school; the grandmothers could not work and were struggling to support family members they could not afford. Chikumbuso provides training, work, skills, school, food and love to hundreds of children, widows and grandmothers. Furthermore, the products are really special, individually hand-crafted pieces of art.

Did I mention you can volunteer? Volunteer now

The website mentions their need for teachers. Right now I can’t think of a worthier cause.

I can’t wait to find out more.

See website www.chikumbuso.com for more information.

Weekly Photo Challenge: (Everyday Life)

Getting around Lusaka

There is an interesting array of transport used in Zambia.  The main modes of transport, as you would expect are; walking, cycling, and riding the blue and white city buses . On a daily basis I also see a variety of open-bed trucks with crowds of locals perched on the side or standing up in the back.  One bad pothole or emergency stop and the consequences could be horrendous. They don’t seem to mind.  I am interested to see what happens when the rainy season begins. 

Sometimes, the truck will contain mainly cargo, with one or two men balanced precariously on top.  

The routes people choose to walk along would make even the bravest person flinch, but it is not uncommon to find very small children walking along these fast, busy roads all alone and often barefoot. There is nothing as luxurious as a pavement here, in fact there is only a narrow paved ‘shoulder’ along some of the roads, and then a wide dirt path. Cyclists prefer the shoulder, as it is easier to pedal along, (walkers prefer it also, it is firmer under foot and keeps their shoes cleaner) but often the loads cyclists carry on the back of the bicycles jut into the road, causing a hazard for the motorist.  Add to this mix, narrow lanes, no street lighting or no ‘cats’ eyes’ to guide the driver, many vehicles being driven with poor, broken or just switched off lights, no lights or reflectors on any bikes whatsoever, and driving in the dark becomes more and more treacherous.

The blue and white public buses are crowded, poorly kept and drive on and off the dirt shoulder at will.  Often, people will be standing, hanging out of the open sliding door.  I have also discovered that, in Zambian terms, the bus is quite expensive (4,000 kwacha to travel around 3 miles – the equivalent of 50 p or 80 US¢) – when set against the minimum wage for a general worker of 700,000 kwacha per month (£89.00 or $142.00 per month)  (Ministry of Labour and Social Security at http://www.mlss.gov.zm/upload/SI/SI%20general.pdf) , it explains why many choose to walk for an hour or more, instead of spending their hard-earned kwacha on the bus.