Woman missing for 11 years appears suddenly and thought to have been in a coma. After appearing, two seperate families claim her as their daughter, while her husband (who she could identify), claims that she is not his wife. To resolve the issue, DNA tests were to be run, but now one of the families is suing the other.
Man wakes up to find tortoise with a coffin on its back and carrying a letter in front of his house. The letter included threats to this gentleman to pay a debt he owed. Aparently the day before a pidgeon had also been taken hostage and threatened.
These are some of the headlines and topics of discussion around town…ah, Africa!
So, after about 1 week in country, I took a trip downtown to walk around a bit so as to try and get a better handle on this new country that I had yet had time to explore. First of all, you have to understand that this trip is unlike most others that I have taken. I’m secluded…cut off from mainstream Zambian society and culture. The first week and a half I was staying with a US Expat family in the eastern suburbs, basically cut off from Lusaka and the haunts that I would normally go to as I begin to get a feel for a new city. Up until that time my outings consisted of trips to and from the National Malaria Control Center and back to their house or out to one of three American-like strip malls (aptly called Arcades, Crossroads and Manda Hill).
So, I went downtown. After traveling along broad colonial beulavards (you know, the ones with a wide median between the traffic, with acacia or jacarand trees lining both sides of the street with their trunks painted white) through embassy row and past government buildings (the largest of which is the former party headquarters, taken away because it was deemed that having the largest building in Lusaka was unseemly for a political party) and over the railway tracks, I arrived downtown. Really? This is downtown? Two lovely socialist-styled office buildings (you know, hard edges, very boxy, no creativity or light allowed in) make up the skyline. After walking the entire street that makes up downtown and seeing little of interest except for the occasional South African food or shopping chain, I headed towards people and activity.
Lusaka Central Market! This is what I was looking for. I entered the fray to see what I could find and to try to piece together a picture of Lusaka and Zambia in general from what I suppose is their largest market. Organized along one main bulevard down the middle with stalls moving perpidencular away like a well planned city, the central artery was clogged with moving bodies, boys shouting out their goods and sales, women bending over to look at piles of shoes, you know, regular market activities. It got a bit exciting when a man with a wheelbarrow filled with freshly severed cow heads and legs blocked traffic briefly as he tried to turn down one of the narrow alleys. I wanted to snap a photo, but I thought better of that idea. As I zig-zagged up and down the aisles, I came across stall after stall of second hand shoes and clothes. Almost no local cloth, but what is available, the best comes from the Congo. I was surprised to come across some good looking fish, lots of spinach, beans, corn meal, cow and goat meat and other foodstuffs. Lots of stationary supplies and of course, nice Zambians who were the first to make me aware of the leading headline mentioned above. We spent about 10 minutes talking about the travesty of this woman’s situation before I headed out of the market (not before I was propositioned by a market woman) in search of some food and drink. I finally found a nice spot, where I had a couple of well deserved afternoon beers (Mosi Lager: As mighty as Zambia’s Mosi-Oa-Tunya), chicken, nshima (aka pap, TZ, ugalia, mealiemeal, corn meal) and relish (what Zambian’s call anything else served with nshima).
After that, I really have not had much of a chance to go exploring. Most of what I see is between the malaria offices of the Ministry of Health and my guest house. Most of that is, interestingly enough, space. That is the one thing that I have not come to grips with yet; the large amounts of space that exist everywhere in this city. Whether this is a result of poor urban planning (check) or a low population density (check – only around 14 people/km) I am not sure, but it is unlike any other capital city in Africa that I have seen. We’ll be driving along and there will be a huge open field off to the left, then a set of developments, followed by a strip mall or government building, followed by more wide open spaces. Not only this, but the buelevards are all quite wide. Not all of them of course, but the main arteries are those classical colonial streets described above.
Now that I’m staying at a real guest house, I’m learning just how expensive this city is. It is very difficult to find a comfortable, safe place to stay for under $100 and meals average about $10. Drinks are about $1.50, which isn’t terrible, but more expensive than in most other countries. I did get a chance to go out last weekend, which was fun. One of the guys from the office came and picked me up and took me out for a night of beers and dancing. The music is great because it is all congolese rumba and samba, but I can’t say I’ve heard much as far as great Zambian music. I’ll keep searching though…
Finally, work. Wish that I could say it has been great, but it hasn’t. We’ve lost 3 weeks already and it looks like we are about to lose a fourth. Too many beauracratic hurdles and not enough motivated people. When we finally got our ethics approval from the University of Zambia (last Friday), my counterpart decided to take off for a UNAIDS conference in South Africa. He assured me that his absence would not delay our start date any further, but after trying to pilot test our tools today at a cement compnay, we had were turned away without any testing because they were not aware of our coming and the people we needed to talk to are out of the country! Now they are saying we can come on Wed. of next week, which is when we should be on the sugar plantations down south. Very frustrating because I have limited time and resources to put into this project. I have now learned the joys of working with the Ministry of Health and will take away valuable lessons for future projects. I have no idea how all of this is going to play out in the end because I’ve given up on trying to drive this process, especially after being put in my place multiple times by both my counterpart and his supposed supervisor in the Ministry. Clearly I’m an outsider here who is supposed to simply accept the fact that I don’t understand the process and that things take time. Too many games. Too many egos. Not enough motivation. Man I can’t wait to get out of this beauracratic nightmare and get back to working with communities! At least there you know where you stand and the protocols are typically easier to follow.
So for now, I’ll settle in for the remainder of the Rugby World Cup and maybe head out of town this weekend for a little R&R in a nearby park. Cheers!
