Departure time was 7:00, but being the seasoned African veteran that I am now, I knew not to arrive before 7:30. We got on the road at 8:00, but only relatively speaking, as we then spent the next hour in the nearby town buying corn meal and chickens (dead) and cabbages and picking up two women who wanted to go out to the town and trying to find a canister that wouldn't leak to hold some extra fuel. After we filled up by siphon at the gas pump (watching the man sucking in the gasoline to get it flowing brought up so many objections I wasn't sure where to start, but it was the only way to get the fuel in the tank) we finally set off about 9:30. There were now 8 of us in the Land Rover, including a lady whose luggage I was sure either had a fair supply of Limburger cheese or catfish stink bait in it. 6 of us were actually going to deliver the certificates, and we were well supplied with 30 Cokes that the director bought for us to drink on the way (I must have looked thirsty). Why does it take 6 to deliver a certificate? Because that's Zambia. It brought to mind the lightbulb joke (How many Zambians does it take to change a lightbulb? 4. Really.) To be fair, I added nothing to the trip but a warm body, a stomach in which to reposit Cokes, and a digital camera with which to take the pictures of the graduates.
Although it has been touch and go since my experience at the Ren Fest (I think there is a previous blog showing my picture before the nausea set in) I have conquered my recently aggravated motion sickness, which was a good thing, as the road is less than perfect out to the bush. We stopped when we saw one of Lason's friends who had just gotten back from a game hunt, and swapped the leaky petrol fumes for 2 day old slaughtered meat smells as they needed some gas and we apparently needed some game meat. After dropping off both of the ladies on the way (the cheese lady was so ecstatic after getting home, rushing around hugging people and smiling, that I asked how long she had been gone -- 5 days) we arrived at Kamakechi around 2 hours later, to find that the graduates had not really come to take their test and get their certificate.
Lason got angry and made a show that we were going to turn around and go home, a prospect which made me a bit frantic, as I was hoping that the cheese smell would have more of a chance to dissipate before we climbed back in. Fortunately, they materialized after about 10 minutes, called by an unknown (to me) messenger source, and we set down to take the test. Meanwhile, some of the local ladies had unloaded the back of the van of its cargo of chickens and tomatoes and cabbage and cooking oil and were making a headstart on the celebration feast, a fact which I appreciated, since it meant I would be subsiding on more than a sugar high, and we were also unlikely to bolt at that point.
During the test, Lason and I and the driver decided to go looking for a few of the local people who we would like to encourage to start ARV's. This whole process, although amusing to me, is really remarkable in that we literally spend eight to nine hours in a car to track down three or four people. It brings to mind the parable of the good shepherd, who was determined that no one should be lost, and I have nothing but respect for Lason and the guys in the program in their efforts and endurance to do this day after day. Unfortunately, about the time that we made it another 30 kilometers down the road, the deluge hit, literally turning the road into a foot-deep raging torrent of red mud. We're laughing that we should have brought a boat, and it turns out two of the women we are looking for are actually staying in the camp behind the hospital, about a 5 minute walk from my front door.
So we shimmy back on the slick water soaked road, stopping briefly to check out a nearby copper mine that has fallen on bad times (owned by a Lebanese man who is currently in a Zambian jail for stealing cars -- an extra bad 2006 for that particular Lebanese man) and get back in time to discover that everyone has passed (it's now about 4 o'clock) and eaten their feast. Passing isn't that difficult a task, as you only have to get 40% right, but I felt better that everyone had scored 80% or above in this particular class. They serve us our part of the feast, and then I pose with each of the graduates to get their picture taken before we hit the road again.
On the way back, now taking the road at higher speed since there are fewer Cokes to be broken and we're about 3 hours behind schedule, we spot some mushrooms after the previous rain. The car skids to a halt on the mud and everyone else in the car scrambles out to collect them. I am assured repeatedly by two of the men, who readily admit they have never picked mushrooms before in their life, that these are quite safe to eat (I'm sure they are right, but feel I have plenty of groceries at home and don't need to risk it), and we proceed to stop at several mushroom stands on the trip back home.
Here's hoping that I'm not busy treating 5 cases of mushroom poisoning tomorrow.
I am going to try to attach a photo to this -- the last time I tried this it didn't work, but this is a different format, so we'll see if this comes through. Somebody make a comment, since I won't be able to go on the blog itself to verify. So you should be looking at a smiling picture of me holding a certificate.
2 comments:
Hi, Matt! The picture didn't come through (at least not on my browser), but thanks for describing it - congrats to all who received a certificate! Hilary
That was one fantastic blog. And I couldn't see the picture either.
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