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My last blog out of Africa

2009-08-08T14:11:00.000-07:00

Before leaving here for home, Phillip asked me if I would go with him and a few kids on a safari to Africa's largest national park. We would be sleeping in tents.

Camping in an African national park? What do you think I said? "YES!"

Things I might have found out before saying yes: (good news): Florence, one of our older residents would be coming along to chaperon the girls. and the kids would do all the cooking and clean up (pretty much as they do at home).

The less than good news: There will be 12 kids in all. We have two tents, one for each gender. The only mattresses we have are the ones off our beds, two or which cover the floor of a tent. So I think the girls would not be too crowded with 6 in their tent, but I couldn't quite (or may be I could) visualize 8 males in a tent rated as a 6-man facility each wrapped with their own blanket. I couldn't see it as doable. But I happened to ride in the vehicle we would be taking. It has two long side benches in the back, suitable for lying on if you are not too wide. So I claimed the van as my place to sleep and that greatly eased my mind.

This year we have a trailer which means that not everything must be packed in the van along with the 'sardine' safari campers. The mattresses, tents, and most other baggage except the cooler and some food items went into the trailer leaving a little breathing space for the 12 occupants in the back. Phillip and I sat up front. got the picture? No, it was tighter than you imagine. Our vehicle is rated for 13 small Japanese.

Just before leaving, a new trailer hitch was installed. We left a bit later than we'd intended. The road was good and not much traffic. Checks of our load indicated everything was well stowed and tided down. However, Phillip noticed that the trailer was starting to buck a bit on the bumps. Sure enough the trailer hitch bolts were starting to loosen. We kept tightening them up. The treads were getting stripped making this ever more difficult. But the boys and Phillip kept everything from parting ways, even on the very unimproved road (more like unimproved bush) and on into the park and our campsite. The park entrance closes at 6 pm, we arrive with a whole 20 minutes to spare.

It was almost a two hour drive to the campsite and darkness took over. We arrived and set up tents and prepared our food in good order, like we had done it many times.

No one seemed anxious to stay up. Most of the staff dropped by to greet and welcome us. The camp director with a nice Australian accent told us about being sensible about leaving our tents at night. His rules: 1) Listen before opening your tent, no unusual sounds,then 2) open your tent and look around, nothing moving around out there, then 3) you can leave your tent, but don't tarry.

So armed with that good advice, we retired. I did not think I slept well, I heard distant animals sounds. So I was surprised in the morning when Phillip asked if I'd seen the lion. No, I took this as a morning joke. Not so, a lion had entered our camp, Phillip looked for footprints as he told about our visitor. He admitted that he was frightened not for himself, but for the girls and how they might be reacting. A camp guard came swinging a flaming torch and the lion moved off and I slept on..

A very auspicious start to our safari adventure. Earlier event also boded well. Even before we got into the park we had seen vervet monkeys, guinea fowl, kudu and bush buck.

We rose about 6 am (sun up) to a cold morning and a quick, inviting fire. After breakfast, Musaki, the camp attendant, came by to tell us our boat trip would be at 10 am. So we toured the edge of the Lufupa River by van first. We'd barely started when we met the camp's head guide who told us to look out for the lions about 50 meters ahead. "Keep your windows up and don't drive too close to them." And there they were, nine of them lounging around as if they'd been up all night frightening campers. They looked well fed, two large males and several females and two cubs. No long view through a telescope but only a few car-lengths away. Occasionally one of the males would lift his head to see if we'd gone yet. Also seen were more vervet monkeys, impala, hippos and zebra. Not a dull moment.

Then back to the camp and the boat launch site. The camp is located at the confluence of the Kafue and Lufupa Rivers. So our boat took sorties up both wildlife laden rivers and lasted what seemed a very short two hours. No one was bored (later my unofficial poll pronounced this the highlight of the safari). None of the children had ever been in/on a boat before.

Our skipper/guide could not have been better, he knew his animals and his audience. I asked him at one point if he'd been a teacher. "No," he said. I told him he was one. He kept us supplied with new animals, their names and the spelling of their names (some of us were keeping our journals up to date) and some interesting details about their life habits. At slow times he'd give us review questions. Everything we saw was pretty much up close and in clear view. Oh yes, and what we saw:

1. Hadeda Ibis

2. Never out of sight of a pod of hiippos

3. Brown-headed Kingfisher

4. Water Monitor Lizard

5. Vervet Monkeys

6. African Fish Eagle - Zambia's National Bird seen on currency, the flag and TV

7. Reed cormorant

8. Crocodiles

9. White-breasted Cormorants

10. African Finfoot

11. Green-backed Heron

12. Water Dikkop (thick-knee)

13. Hammerkop and their unusual nest

14. Cocktail Ant colony

15. Giant Kingfisher, both perched and hunting

16. Wire-tailed Swallow

The two hours went very quickly and we were back on dry land and back to camp for lunch sandwiches.

Enough animals for the moment, the kids opted for a swim in the pool before we went off on another wildlife ride.

This time many elephants and they were on the move and not wanting us to be very near, there were babies with them. We watched a mother and her young stripping the bark off a tasty bush (we had to watch because they were blocking the road). The mother moved on but this bush was really good and the little one was not about to leave it. Finally it turned as if called and takes off toward the mother and we can pass. I wanted to get out and taste that bark they made it look so good. We saw more hippos, a life-times worth of hippos, had no idea so many could live in such close a proximity to each other. They remained in their pods or small groups. Sulphur Pool, well named from the smell of it, was a favorite gathering place, hippos like other folks I know, like to soak in those sulphurous waters, must be good for their skin and perhaps bad for their ectoparasites. More crocodiles but singly, no large gathering of them. Phillip spotted a python who'd recently eaten (large meal which showed) and who didn't want to move, maybe he couldn't.

We headed back about a half hour before sunset, everyone tired and hungry. The children are motivated to eat but not well organized. I sat and watch what seemed as disorganized as an ant colony, a lot of random motion, no one in charge, but everyone doing something and all seemed to be enjoying what they were doing. The menu they selected was spaghetti and chicken with nshima as a special request of Uncle Phillip.

I have never seen spaghetti prepared in such an un-Italian way. Some kids started breaking up the spaghetti into random lengths and eating (crunching) the smaller pieces uncooked. Pots of water were put on the fire and the odd array of spaghetti 'sticks' poking well out of the pots of warm water. Neither pot had sufficient water for the job (my estimation). No one timed anything. I calculated it must have cooked for a least an hour or more, but much of it was sticking out of the pot for some time before it settled down and someone noticed and put a lid on it. The chicken was boiled for some undetermined time and then sort of fried or cooked in oil in a large pot. I watched all this is a half wakeful state, a few times I tried to make a suggestion, but one one was interested. I realized a that they were enjoying themselves and the lack of adult supervision. Phillip had retired to the van. After what must have been nearly two hours, plates were brought out, food was dished up. Phillip and a few others had nshima. I was brave and went for the spaghetti and somehow it was all good.

After supper and clean up, we indulged in an ancient African custom of telling stories around an evening fire. Phillip also demonstrate how to roast our last chicken on a spit. Fortified with all that food, we lasted about another hour before we had to retire. Never once on this trip did I have to call out telling the kids to 'be quiet and go to sleep', a most common and tiresome phrase from camping with similar aged children in the US.

Next morning it was not so cold. We went for a drive before breakfast to get the jump on those animals. We passed the camp director out on a similar jaunt. He had seen nothing. But we persevered and Phillip spotted some large birds out in the open in a swampy area. They were Wattled Cranes feeding. Probably the rarest of our sightings. Not rare but fun to watch were the Helmeted Guinea Fowl feeding in the road and being aggressive to one another while holding their wings high but pressed together over their backs while running at each other.

Back for our last breakfast, last camp meal. The repair staff of the park took on our trailer hitch problem with a lot of enthusiasm and large bolts and wouldn't quit until they had us together in a way they thought would get us safely home.

About 9;30 am Phillip takes a group picture, we break camp, pack the trailer and van and leave that very special place. On the way home we saw baboons, kudu, wart hogs and assorted antelope. Several stops to check and tighten those trailer hitch bolts, one stop for cold drinks and for Sam to drive once more on the left. We pulled into Chishawasha about 4 pm. We all had a great supper and a good night's rest.

Blog pressing out of Africa,

Uncle Sam

The latest from the real Sam Weeks

2009-07-18T11:14:00.000-07:00

This is really me and that only needs to be said because some Nigerian (well that's where he wanted the money sent) co-opted my email account and put out an urgent plea for money to all those on my contact list ostensibly because I was stuck while traveling in Nigeria and lost my pass port and wallet and you were (if so moved and fooled by the bad English) to send money quickly via wire transfer. I knew I'd been locked out of my Yahoo email and was informed that I could not get into that account for security reasons. I 'replied' to Yahoo Security message only to find out that Yahoo was unable to deliver it! Email friends delivered 'my sad message requesting funds' to my by hand. I had no email, has lost my contact list and all my email files. Mostly I wanted my contact list, since I don't remember anyone email address. It took only a few minutes to get another email address, but to whom could I write?

A phone call got me started and slowly I am getting addresses again. It came to me that perhaps putting my new address in this blog would get it to my 3 relatives and my 2 or maybe 3 regular readers and put them back in touch with me again. So if your emails have been undeliverable, please try samweeks23@yahoo.com

A Hot New Stove Arrives

In science class we had just finished studying about the various ways that heat travels when the students were a bit more interested than usual about something happening outside. A large silver, heavy object was being delivered and into the lunchroom doors it went. A little later found that we were the recipient of a special FREE stove from the UN World Food Program. It is very efficient and will reduce charcoal use by a significant amount, it can work with just a bit of kindling and no charcoal.

You don't drive anywhere in this area without seeing charcoal for sale or charcoal on the move. Mainly it is moved by bicycle. So much charcoal is loaded on bikes that they can not be ridden, but must be pushed much of the time. Charcoal is for sale roadside and can also be seen on passing trucks. I have not seen the areas where charcoal is produced but I heard them described. Not an ecologically cheerful sight to say the least.

Well if this stove catches on, those many folks in the charcoal business will need other work, one hopes doing less environmental damage.

But back to my science class. New efficient stove, dealing with heat transfer in a much better way! Oh, its time for a short field trip to the kitchen for 5th grade class inspection. No heat lost via radiation as with the typical Zambian (glowing) charcoal stove. All the heat is directed to and around the large pot which is designed to be held and surrounded by the stove. What a wonderful demo for my class and on just the right day.

Testing

Next week will be taken up with testing and I have been preparing exams for each subject. Something new about this testing session. This will be the first time that the students will receive individual copies of their tests. That is the teachers will not have to write them on the board. Board space is limited and I don't have space to write 50 questions.

Well, we have a copy machine, just like a real school. 'Blackboard' tests often involved students moving around in order to see the question and certainly gave them the chance to better see what other students had done or were doing. And the teacher will not have to be erasing the first part of the test in order to put up the last part. So better monitoring will takes place.

I don't think I am or was a good test taker. Tests have always made me nervous. After all these years of teaching and giving tests, you might be surprised to know they still make me nervous, that special feeling in the pit of your stomach, that tightness occurs, even when I am just giving the test.

Don't let your life be the test for which you forgot to study.

This is the verifiable Sam Weeks blog pressing out of Africa.

One day.

2009-07-11T13:36:00.000-07:00

A volunteer's schedule:

Up at 5:30am and I head for the shower. Hopefully I have remembered last night to 'recharge' the geezer (the hot water heater which was appropriately named Geyser but now through the evolution of language, shares its name with me). Recharging the hot water tank refers to the solution to a problem from low water pressure, even though we have two tall towers for our water tanks. The pressure in my building seems adequate to deliver cold water to the taps, but the geezer is located up on the wall about 12 feet and the pressure is not always there to raise the water to that height, I surmise. When that happens, the hot water just stops. So to avoid this problem (this may not seem straight forward, but please hang in there) the best thing to do is to go to the adjoining room with a tub. Now you cover the dual tap for cold/hot water with your hand and then turn on the hot and then the cold water. Since the water can not come out the tap, the cold water is backed up into the geezer/geyser via the hot water outflow pipe. Now why, you might ask, will it go into the hot water tank that way and not the usual way? Well I don't know, but I do know the best way to predictably get a warm shower and that Africa holds many mysteries.

Going back to my room, I try to note the day, is it clear or cloudy and is it windy. Well you know about the wind since our slatted (jalousie) windows are not a big impairment to a breeze. It's still dark but you look for signs of clear sky indicating possible sunny day which might suggest lighter clothing. Give it you best bet and get dressed.

Breakfast consists of cold cereal and fruit. Recently my concern is the hot water for my tea. We suffer from regular and mostly predictable power outages. Lately they have been occurring at about the time those in the other houses are stirring and starting their day. The stove and hot water kettle are electric. Tea has only been delay a few minutes some mornings. The dishes are washed in cold water.

This is the time spent with my daily log. I read through 'yesterday' to see if I missed anything at the evening writing, making additions if necessary. And then start the current day with my weather report and any details I know that will make this day different from the others.

Putting my day together requires assembling all those things needed through the day, up until I return home at about 4:30 (16:00 hrs). This might include: special books, materials for science class, water bottle, etc.

I leave around 7:30 and walk to school, often joined by the early kids. Once in my class room, I try to put in order the things on my desk for upcoming classes, but my room seems a popular place to stop in for kids of all ages. Also because I try to keep the windows and door closed, my room is warmer and they come in for the warmth, but tend to leave the door open. So I am busy at the door. (Should explain that the classroom door only stays shut if locked, or otherwise one must jam just enough burlap bag [it also serves as a door mat] into the jamb to hold the door against the breeze). The kids are also immensely interested in my desk and everything on it. Hands are out constantly shuffling and reorganizing my things in what I am sure seems a helpful way. So I am busy at my desk. It often is with some relief to have the day's instruction begin.

We try to start with my reading a story, maybe 15 minutes with a very brief discussion of what is was about. This sometime requires, however, that I retell the story so that everyone understands what happened. A couple of the students though sharp, can't get much meaning from the spoken word despite my slow pace with constant interruptions to make sure certain words are understood. I most always start by saying please stop me if you don't understand what is happening in the story.

Math is the first subject of the day and usually begins with drills. We've been working on the 'times tables'. I put numbers down the board somewhat randomly (to keep them from reading off their copies of the times tables printed on every workbook they have) from 1 to 12, and then put the multiplier next to them, such as "8", and then point at the random numbers and they call out the answer to what 8 times that number is. I have gotten them up to 'speed' both to avoid using the time table charts and counting on their fingers.

We go from drill to their working at the board in groups. I have learned it is best to give them each different problems since none of them can keep their eyes off what is going on next to them. We start with simple problems which are repetitious of the previous drill then work up to multiplying 2 and 3 digit numbers. Several of the student are good at this, to the point that I occasionally get my math corrected by one of them. I should be embarrassed but instead I am immensely proud.

We are doing division problems as well, now at the end of math class for those who have mastered their times tables and as a goad to those who haven't.

After math, it's usually English class which includes spelling. These words are used in sentences, making sure they can pronounce them and know their meaning. Most are doing well as they should. For I have explained that no one should ever fail a spelling test. It is the only test that a teacher ever gives in which all the right answers are provided well before the exam. Some students want me to make the spelling more difficult, so I have added five more difficult words to the 10 words frequently found in our reading.

We are learning to identify a complete sentence including the subject and predicate. Nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs are becoming more obvious. Reading and writing are two more activities. As an ESL teacher, I am hampered by not speaking, nor understanding the various languages these kids know and use.

Science class has involve looking at and dissecting flowers and fruit, drawing insects and identifying soil types. We are learning the metric system of measurements. I purloined a scale form the pantry of my house so we can weigh things. The Ithaca group sent us thermometers, the first that some children have seen. We all have rulers. So we measure the volume of boxes in cubic cms and determine the classroom floor area in square m. We have built a compost.

In Social Studies we have covered a large area of subjects from religion, over population, disease, farming, health, to local geography.

New to our curriculum is something called Technology and Creativity. And this is as broad as it sounds. Since I feel that I include technology in science class, I've tried doing more with creativity. We have molded objects from local (it's free) clay. But first they had to draw the object from three different perspectives. Now this took some explaining. One student couldn't get the idea of different perspectives and continued to repeat his drawing of the side of a truck. I finally took some clay and made a little truck and turned it, looking at it from the front and from above. No luck. I tried to get him to imagine what he would see while walking if a truck were coming towards him. I explained it to other students who understood and had them explain it to him in his language. Never got the second perspective I wanted but instead did get a most interesting Picasso-like drawing showing two sides of the truck at once.

The day includes a break at 10 and lunch at 1:00 and the end of instruction at 4pm. Since the other teacher have to walk some distance and catch public transportation, I hang around and see the kids off the school ground and on their way home.

On Thursdays last period my class has P. E. during which they play soccer for an hour. This is interesting to see how they interact on the pitch. In class they don't always get along smoothly. There are arguments, you took my pencil and the like. But on the pitch any signs of disagreement are gone and no fighting over whether a goal was scored or not. They play rough but with great freedom from cross words or fighting. It's a joy and a puzzlement.

Friday is testing day and we give exams in each subject. The school day ends at 1pm, the kids go home and the teachers work on lesson plans, etc. for the next week.

School breakfast is provided for non-resident children. Lunch is provided for children and staff.

After school I try to take a walk, since the classroom offers little real exercise. Then I headed home to check emails, read and catch some BBC news via the radio. At some point between 6:30 and 7:30 a group of boys will come for me from the house at which I am current eating. They take me to supper just in time to sit down and eat.

When the meal is over and the table cleared and wiped, the books come out and the listeners crowd around. Sometimes so tight, I can't turn the pages other times there may be as few as three. After about a half hour of reading, I excuse myself giving good-nights and walk home, noting the stars and the big dipper standing now on its rim on the horizon with no North Star. Occasionally I will turn 180 degrees to look at the Southern Cross or enjoy the moon shining on the metal roofs of the houses.

Home to writing my evening log entry and more reading, emailing, blogging. Finally I throw the large mosquito net with a grand gesture, but all I have ever caught is my bed. I must remember to recharge the geezer (you know all about that) and put on the automatic kettle which boils a liter of water and then shuts off, by morning it will be cold and become my drinking water for the day. And that's as exciting as it gets.

This is Sam Weeks blog pressing out of Africa.

Eating and Reading Around

2009-07-03T11:00:00.000-07:00

Well with the change of month, I have changed the house I eat at. I am now at house 2, not exactly in order, but I have made the full round of houses. Each is different with a little mini culture all their own. House 2 is heavy on formality with my food served in separate dishes instead of being served to you on one plate. The quantities are back where there were when I started, but because of the cold weather and increased appetite, I am not protesting quite so much. The first night, I was seated with the house mother, which was a first.

Again the children are not used to a story reading session after the meal and don't quite seem to know what to make of it. Sometimes I start with what looks to be the youngest about 3 in number and as I read the group grows in numbers and in age. I have them select the books and bring me the ones they want to hear. At this cold season of the year with short days and long nights, it is an old tradition to sit around the fire and listen to stories. We lack two things, the fire and the story teller. We sit indoors and listen to stories being read. In house 1, I read almost exclusively African folk tales. (except for Charlotte's Web). Our thanks go out to the Ithaca group who got a suit case full of African stories to us for the school library. Trying hard not to make this a little American colony and attempting to honor in some way Zambian culture, I read as much as I can of African material to them. Stories of children who's main relationship seems to be with a TV set and cell phone and a room so full of material things that they can't deal with it, who eat cookies, junk food, soda and pizza and hang out at the mall are not what I think they need to hear about.

Zambian Weather

Seems we've run out of what I can the Zambian Tourist Weather. I has gotten cold. How can I say that, having been raised on the frigid plains of eastern Montana; and having gone to school in the Rocky Mountains further west? Cold for me starts somewhere below zero. Why here its gotten down as low as 13 deg. C. Seems that's about 58 deg. F. Surely one can't call that cold. Well, not if you are living in a heated fairly tight house, and travel in a heated car and visit other places that are thermostatically controlled then that's not cold. Here if the temperature is 58 deg. F that is the temperature everywhere. In your bedroom, in the shower, in the kitchen, in the classroom, you can't avoid it and it will eventually, especially if you are confined to a classroom and desk, come creeping, seeping into your bones. Your hands will be cold and can only be warmed by holding a cup of tea. But you can only drink so much tea...

So we complain about the cold. The Zambians complain about the cold, as you would expect. They don't get much fluctuation in temperature throughout the year. But what you wouldn't expect what their reaction to it is. We do get some radiant energy from the sun and my class room has a hint of warmth in it on sunny days. I keep the windows and the door closed despite a stream of kids coming in because my room is a little warm. They never think to close the door, will go to the window and open it just to look outside. Any heat I started with would be gone in a few minutes if I did not countermand this behavior. Well they're just oblivious teens, after all.

But when I go to the teacher's lunch room, what do I find, everyone shivering with the door and window open and a heady breeze blowing through and each complaining about the weather. What is this, I demand (all my cultural sensitive out the window with any hint of heat). If you are cold, why not keep the warmth we have? They look at one another, shrugging their shoulders, and one says, I guess we just like the fresh air. Ah, just another of the unexplained African mysteries.

House 7 report

House 7 is being plastered inside and undergoing such finishing work. It is a new presence on the street of houses in our little village. I have enjoyed the reflected moon light off the new corrugated metal roof these past few evenings on my way home after supper/reading.

You Get July 4th.

Well I got to go to a wedding on the 4th, full report to follow. Then on Monday 6th is a holiday here: Hero's Day (none of my kids could name a hero to be remember on this day). And while we are still in the mood (mode), Tuesday is another holiday: Unity Day. So back to school on Wednesday.

A Equipment for the School

This week, Phillip brought back from Lusaka a beautiful box. This was something very special. It contained the first piece of equipment beyond pen and paper, for the school, a real copy machine. And this was not JUST a copier, but an accessory to our promised computer: a Printer and a Scanner. So when our computer arrives we will almost be working in this century, which ever one this is? Our computer, if it should have internet abilities, will allow us to do those functions demonstrated nicely by Mamie Spillane when she was here, down loading useful teaching tools/aids and we won't need someone to come from the US to do it for us on the busy Chishawasha office systems.

The Wedding

I was invited to a wedding on Saturday afternoon. The schedule of events worked out that I got to have a meal with Phillip and Maria and their 4 month old son, Shebach, in their home. Shebach provides sufficient entertainment that neither parent needed to be there to keep me happy. Good company, good food. Oh, and I saw a little tv, had forgotten what that is like.

The church in which the wedding was being performed had moved to their current location, but have not yet be able to put up a new building. So they are using a large blue and white tent with the internal, up to date appointments you'd find in any church building here: sound system (two lap tops, a PC, five microphones, Beringer mixer with a square yard or so of dials and slides, large paired speakers and monitor [we go for the sound and the Spirit here]), Yamaha keyboard, fancy lectern, stone floor, seats and benches. I know I am suppose to mention the orange roses in perfusion and gold and yellow ribbon, bows and fabric hangings (you can tell don't even know the vocabulary). The brides gown was white and she had a bouquet, there! The weather cooperated so temperatures were comfortable.

As the crowd gathered, I gradually became aware that there was only one muzungu (non-African) present. What made this most obvious was the line of about 6 young children (4 to 6 years old) seated at right angle to me who enjoyed staring. I didn't help things much by smiling at them and imitating their gestures, the most common of which is putting hands up to your face and almost covering up your eyes, but not quite and then turning away.

The service was to start at 2 pm. The groom arrived early. At 2:30, no bride, groom stressed, young children enjoying the silly muzungu. At 2:50 bride arrives, if you didn't know, the car horns and ululations were a good hint. The Bishop who will perform the ceremony (older brother of the groom) comes in and warms up the microphone and attendees. He introduces an unusual number of ministers, perhaps 8 for which special seating was provided, each had a role to play. The numbers were due in part to the fact that the Bishop is a bishop and his father, a minister was the guest of honor. The first sign that were we seriously about getting started, was that an attendant wipes down the lecture, a modern glass and chrome tubing structure.

At 3 pm we are underway with a prayer. The entire service was enjoyable and fun. The wedding party danced in. (oh, I forgot the pre-wedding rehearsals, not what you think). For months before the service the wedding party has been rehearsing weekly up to the last weeks when rehearsals become daily. Why? Because to be in the wedding party means that you must dance like a professional! Your wedding planner is also a choreographer and dance instructor. Back to the wedding ceremony. Well, suffice to say that each minister offered a word of advice and/or a prayer. Nothing too heavy except that the groom should have a vision or goal. If you should marry a man who is going no where, that is just where you will wind up. To me this advice was a little late in coming since they were half way to saying their vows and gone though an unusually long awkward period waiting for anyone to speak up as to why these two should not be married and then again while we waited to see if either of the couple had any reservations about the impending union. Several times it seem to be stated that divorce was not an option.

Must mention that the groom was told to be sensitive to the goals that his wife has, things that she has set to do for herself, before he proposed and she said yes.

I learned during the service and it was hard to miss, that the bride and groom were from different tribes. Thandie is a Tonga and Joshua a Bemba. Many jokes about misunderstood remarks between Tonga and Bemba's because of the similar sounding words with wildly different meanings. The Bishop told of his experience, marrying a woman from another tribe and feeling that he should know that language better, had begun to study it. Showing off to his mother-in-law he used a phrase in relation to her family which he took to mean something like "birds of a feather flock together" however a more literal translation is: those who spend time with folk suffering from diarrhea are apt to suffer from it as well!" When she made it clear what he'd said, he left quickly.

There was the exchange of vows and rings. The new husband was asked to unveil his wife and then demonstrate his affection so he very slowly and meticulously rolled it back off her head and kissed the bride. We were all asked if we had seen that, everyone to a person answered NO, a repeat performance, same question, same answer and another kiss.

Wedding party danced out, and the service was over at 5 pm. Have a feeling it might have gone longer, but the facility was needed for another function.

The reception was some kms and hours away in another church hall. This was fun, much dancing, displaying what months of rehearsals can do to 8 attendants and the couple. Dancing in Africa is not dancing unless a part of it at least is competitive, between the couples, between the males and between the females.

It was at the reception the over abundance of ministers started to overburden the affair from my perspective. It seemed the preaching wasn't preaching unless it was competitive. Of course the oldest minister and guest of honor had the last and the longest words, he finally said Amen and sat down, the MC gets up to wind things up when the Guest of Honor has one more word, one more charge from above which he had neglected earlier. Seems he has a sum of money is mind that should be collected and with many reminders that we would all receive more if we would only give more (when asked) and a couple of large plastic lids where passed to help finance the honeymoon. The old man said he didn't want the couple to call the Bishop in a couple days asking for money to get home. The sum of money was not quite enough, so the lids came round again.

At this point I get the high sign from Phillip and Maria and we were outa there. Only made one really bad gaff. My hand delivered invitation was so nice that I immediately made it a part of my daily log. It seems that I should have surrendered it at the door of the reception, but no one, I guess, was going to stop this old, odd looking, out of place man and hassle him for it. I walked in unscathed.

This is Sam Weeks with an invitation to next Weeks' blog and you can keep it!

Ms. Consilia Mwanza is the school.

2009-06-26T22:54:00.001-07:00

There are many people who make this place happen and I have mentioned only a few of them. A while back I reported on Phillip Mvula, the manager and one small part of his large job. He had tried to tell in a simple a way as possible, how one obtains a piece of property here. My explanation was a poor summary of all that he told me regarding his negotiations with three different chiefs regarding the possibility of adding some property to our facilities.

Another key person is Ms. Consilia Mwanza, head teacher of the school. She is in charge of its operation and the education of the children. The school serves our resident children plus as many of the kids from the surrounding area as we can take, the total is about 120 children. She oversees the work of 8 teachers.

She has had a long career in teaching, including experience at the International School, acknowledged as the best in Zambia. She has done some work in government schools but mostly worked in private ones.

It has been my privilege and honor to work for her. You quickly learn that this is a sharp, diffident, private woman, almost singularly focused on the well fare and education of the children. I worked with her for some time before finding out she is caring for her mother (who recently died) and several relatives children. Very down to earth. On my initial visit, I learned to appreciate her in her absence, she became sick and I had to step into her position or try to step into her position. I remember that several new students were admitted while she was away. In talking with these students just a few minutes on her return, she told me exactly what each of them needed in order to catch up with the others at their grade level. I had been working with these kids for several weeks and couldn't have given such a concise answer as to what each needed and been so specific. She is a no nonsense teacher with a good sense of humor.

She is a private person, as evidence I had to try multiple times to get her to agree to an interview; also I have several pictures of her with a paper held in front of her face. But, I am persistent. One day recently when she and Phillip were in discussions outside the school, I took several good pictures of her and was quite pleased with myself. Did I mention that she is a deeply religious lady? Well, God was protecting her that day. This was the only roll of film I have ever had come out blank, as if it had been fully exposed to light before developing. So I still have no pictures of her and am feeling a bit reluctant to try again.

She first started with Chishawasha in 2002, a year she says she will always remember for it coincided with the loss of her only son. The first 'school' was located in a suburb of Lusaka in the Servant's Quarters in a large home being used as the orphanage. They then grew and the school moved out to the garage.

From there the whole operation moved to its present site, but lacking a school building and funds for such, classes were held in a grass hut, a very Zambian structure. But quite cold. They once had to cancel classes on account of low temperatures. The grass hut was still there when I came in '06 and we occasionally used the play area in front of it. I am sorry I never took a picture of that bit of history, we used sections of it to provide cover around the latrine of the 'next' school which was two cleared out corners of block-built warehouse. It was dirty, it was rough, had no amenities, a favorite haunt for bees, the door was a frame work of welded rebars and a flap of canvas. Could not talk during a rain storm, rain on the tin roof would drowned out any instruction. It was also cold and drafty unless it was hot. We had blackboard and chalk, pencils and paper and sufficient books for less than half the class members. That did not deter Ms. Mwanza from producing stellar graduates.

She works on the principle of whatever you do, you must do it very well. Her greatest joy is to take on a student with zero knowledge of English and send her/him out into the world, reading, writing and speaking correct English.

The New House

Well the new house shell is complete with roof, now the finishing work which I remember a contractor telling me is the second half of the job. It has grown up quickly and seems better built than the others. I am sure if I walk by today and ask when I can more in, the workmen will answer as they have the last 2 times I asked them, "Tomorrow."

Volunteers Go Home

Ellinor Angel and Mamie Spillane are leaving, they are leaving a different place than they came to. Both concentrated on the school. Ellinor on the school library and Mamie on class room instruction. Ellinor took a mostly empty room and made it into a functional library with organized shelves and a system that will let the teachers checkout books to their students. Plus she managed to get all the students interested in books and they library.

Mamie efforts through perhaps less visible, has none the less moved the school ahead and challenged our teachers with new ideas, techniques and some new materials that were badly needed. She left all we need to make more and similar materials to keep us up to day.

What these two have done leaves us in much better shape to face the future with a school of distinction. They will be missed, but not the work that they leave behind. [Slight correction, addendum] Ellinor has decided to leave twice, and will stop by again shortly before making her final exit for Obamaland.

This is Sam Weeks blog pressing out of Africa

New House Report

2009-06-19T11:57:00.000-07:00

A correction and update on the new house dubbed number 7. I had made some rash predictions in my last blog regarding the imminent appearance of a roof. I was not quite right, my assessments of how the building was going were made mostly at night on my way to and from supper, so there was some imagination involve with what I was actually seeing. The lumber I thought was going for the roof was in reality used for concrete forms to pour the lintels over windows and doorway. Here, however the lintels are continuous and run all around the house covering all the openings. Then the blocks are again laid on that lintel layer on up a few more rows. So now I see new timber for roof rafter and the roof joists are in place. The windows and doors are being framed in. When asked, the workmen always assure me that I can move in tomorrow.

What a lot of water!

Kathe, Phillip and Mamie Spillane (teacher trainer) have gone to Livingstone to see Victoria Falls.

Dictionary game

Last week I decided it was time to learn about dictionaries and looking at a few copies I had of a small dictionary for kids, no definitions, just some common reading words listed in alphabetical order. Seemed pretty useless, I had used it as a source for spelling words. But I wanted to motivate them to get used to looking words up and becoming familiar and comfortable with such books. Recently been watching them play soccer and they are quite competitive. I didn't have enough books for everyone. So I split them into two teams the Elephants and the Lions, each had 3 copies of this same dictionary. I listed 10 words on the board and they had to find that word and write down the preceding word and the one that came directly after it. The team that finished first with the correct answers won. Well right from the first the Elephants would seem to outweigh the Lions in their reading skills at least and I was putting my money (in my mind) on them. And sure enough, they won the first few games. Turns out we couldn't play just once. Eventually the Lions pulled up and the last few games were all draws. Speed seemed to introduce errors, so they would both finish quickly but both would have made an error. This seemed a good time to stop.

An almost functional library!

Ellinor Angel has got our library going with the few shelves we have. She has grouped the books in way that make them easy to find both for students and teachers. She has put up some nice posters that just happen to go with a good story book and makes a nice reading corner.

So with with 4 bookcases and sufficient books to pretty much fill them and a good number of cardboard boxes and a few tables and classroom chairs its almost a functional library. This afternoon the teaching staff meet with Ellinor to talk about loaning policies and a way to make them more equitable. We have always been more lenient with resident student than with those kids from the outside. We almost never let books go off campus. But we will use a time-tested method of Ms. Mwanza who has some books that she lets go home with kids from the outside. If they show they are responsible, take good care of the book and return it with some knowledge of what its about, then they earn the priviledge of borrowing from the library and can take them home. Otherwise they can check them out for classroom use.

More from the students:

Marvin is a good student but can get on your nerves. He never hears when you announce a change in activities. I announce to the class what we are going to do next and then turn to Marvin, who after three attempts to communicate with him, suddenly notices and always responds by saying "What?" Then you say it again and hope. Well the other thing he does, is draw. At the slightest hint of a break in the chain of events and he will clear his desk and bring out a drawing and be off in his own world. Or if you are changing from one subject to another, he will be in your face saying, "I am asking for a sheet of paper." "Why, Marvin?" "I want to draw." "Marvin, we are just starting English right now, you don't have time to draw." He gives you a disgusted look and slowly returns to his seat.

So its not surprising then when asked to write about his favorite thing to do, Marvin responded:
[the following is rended as closely as posible as it was written] My favorite thing to do is Draw. I like draw because Drawing is good For me when I draw it look nice.

To the same question Precious wrote: My favorite thing to do is read and playing and cooking and learning at school maths and spellings and Read. and science and s. s. [social studies] Because I like to cooking fish every day.

Ireen responded: My favorite thing to do is read because it is impetoune to lenrn some word.

Stella is a bit more (too) verbal: I like to read and my best subject is English. I like to make some clay [make things from clay]. I like to talk Story of my life and I like to do math. You know when we are doing english I like to answer the question. and attending church...

Blog prssing out of Africa, its my favorite thing to do.

When the teachers are taught...

2009-06-12T07:59:00.001-07:00

This Friday the teachers of the Glassco School had their first session with Teacher Trainer Mamie Spillane from Tucson, AZ. She is visiting for two weeks to spruce us up a bit. Her background is working with ESL kids from around the world, but mostly Mexican children. She shared with us her skills and methods and brought us up to date on the new method which Ms Mwanza pointed out was once called the old method. Seems you can't keep a good method down and its come around again. We all walked out of that first meeting with a useful tool, a tested game that will keep the children's interest while they learn the alphabet and the sounds the letters make. On Monday she will visit each class and demo a new (old) classroom teaching technique especially useful when your class members are at very different levels of skills.

Whats the chief thing you need to know in order to get property in Zambia?

Since Chishawasha is seeking land on which to build a secondary school and also to build some commercial enterprises, Phillip has been in negotiation with a variety of different people.

The president of Zambia has ultimate control over property in this country and can give it to whom he pleases. This is not often done, except in cases of national interest.

But at our level, you need to know the Chief of the Village and his tribe of the area in which you are interested. But you start at a level below the chief with some gifts. In the past gifts were pretty standard, chickens, a goat and the like. Now days things are more complicated, depending on whether you are of the same tribe as the chief or not. This will determine whether you know what gifts are appropriate or not. Anyway the headman begins the negotiations and receives the initial gifts. With luck, you move up to the Chief who control the property. There may be standard gifts that are expected, or you may actually receive a list of things. You will be pointing out to the Chief all the benefits to the village and tribe that will come with your development of the property. You will include things like the employment of folks, educating their kids, provide an outlet for some local products, etc. So if Chief says yes, it goes to the local council who then will recommend it to the Ministry of Lands who will then issue you a deed for the property for from 14 to 99 years.

Phillip has been in talks with 3 different chiefs of three different tribes, none of which are of his tribe. That means he has dealt with at least 3 different headmen as well. Each step is an interesting story which perhaps he will tell us when he has time.

House number 7 report:

The walls are complete and doors and windows are being framed in and the roof lumber seems to be assembled. This house is growing faster than any of the others.

More Stories:

Story of me
by Ian

My name is Ian Chipwende. I stay at 10 Miles. I am 14 years old.

Mother left me when I was a baby. Now I stay with my grandmother. My father left me in 2003. My brother left me in 2006.

I used to think of my father when he was telling me that "tomorrow you are going to town with me." Now my grandmother tells me that I shouldn't think bad of him otherwise we're going to be mad. Now I remember when he was telling me that Education is good. Yes, its good. When I grow up, I want to be a ZESCO [power company] worker.

Now I like to play with my friends, football, long jump, high jump and to drive a car [?]. Everything I like now makes me happy.

That is the end of my story.

About Myself
by Precious

My name is Precious Shabtubi, I am 17 years old. I was born in 1992. I live in Zambia.

Long ago, I was staying with my mother and father in the village. When my mother was sick, I was crying. My Auntie came and said, "Precious, why are you crying?" "My mother is sick," I said. "Don't cry, your mother is going to be okay." said Auntie. When my mother died, I was sleeping with her.

When someone talked about my mother, I used to cry. I stay with my Auntie or uncle. My father died when I was young, he left me when I was 3. But now I have grown up.

I learn at Chishawasha School. My Auntie is keeping me like her child. I have one brother but no sisters.

The Story of my Life
by Stella Mumba

Hi, I just want to tell you about my life.

You know when I was 7 years old, my grandmom like to tell me stories and I was very proud of what my grandmom told me.

You know when I became 8 years old, my mother died. I was not happy and my grandmom said, "Stella, don't cry too much, you will make yourself sick."

"No," I said, "I just want to know where my mother is. Is she in heaven or perhaps in hell?" "No," my grandmom said, "don't think about that, your mother will be alive really so stop thinking about it."

And grandmom told me that I will buy you a pair of shoes and stocking, "everything you want." And the school you will start from is that Chishawasha Children's Home. My mother died in 2008. And that is the end of my story.

Benefits of the writing of these stories:

Well, these stories have gotten these kids writing in a way that nothing else has. About 99% of their writing is copying. They are not used to thinking about their responses. Any question you ask will be a regurgitation of the last facts they remember, regardless of the question. So we try working on creativity. This writing is a good start.

I can't judge if it has any psychological benefits.

I can judge that it is very helpful for the teacher to know to whom he is talking and not push too hard on a student that lost his/her last parent within the year, for example.

This is Sam blog pressing out of Africa and gathering stories.

A house leaps up from the earth.

2009-06-05T11:14:00.000-07:00

House 7 seems to be jumping up from out of the ground. I don't see it often except by night walking to and from my supper. On weekends if I need a walk I'll pass by. Blocks are up about head level, it has a real presence now.

We are being visited by an Angel.

Ellinor Angel arrived via the wings of British Airlines and dived right in. Reading to children from the new books she brought with her. Today, she and I visited our school library and talked about what kind of books we need. Always the librarian, out of the few books we have, she managed to find a few more useful one for my class.

The school jumps a couple centuries forward:

The school will have its first computer, perhaps by Monday. A large step into the present.

The stories of the children:

Ms. Mwanza class has been doing their stories and I entered them on the computer (in the Chishawasha Office) so I could print them out, 'publish' them so to speak. So I was reading their stories in my class at my desk where my students wouldn't get to questioning me. I felt that they were too young and not ready for any heavy writing. But students can tell when I am interested in something and not sharing it. Quickly invented reasons would cause them to linger within view of my material. Finally I was nailed. "We want to do that," was all I could hear. So I agreed that we could try it, if they wanted. Since they wanted to do it, it took little urging on my part and I have been surprised by the results. Nothing as polished as the 7th graders, but a lot of effort and I think they have written more than they have ever been required to do.

It has not been all lightness and roses. Each of these kids has been through a lot and in helping them edit their work, a simple confusion of sentences, tenses, spellings, and general usage will unearth some painful memories with no warning. I would say to them, we don't have to do this, you can write about anything else you want. But none gave up. There are places that appear harmless where I know not to tread from previous attempts and tissues.

So here are some more 7th and 5th graders stories:

Brian is usually an eager student, better than average. He came forward to help me teach younger students during my vacation teaching stint. He seemed patient and attentive as a teacher. He is moody, but not unusually so for a teenager. He has been sick for a time and has not finished his story, so this is the first installment:

The Story of My Life

My name is Brian Banda. I live in Zambia.

I am 14 years old and am in grade five at Colin B. Glassco Primary School. If you want to come, you can find me. I have friends at home and at school. I like dancing and singing, but that is not my talent. My talent is basketball.

I was born in 1994 in November.

My mother died when I was in grade 1, but I wanted to keep my mind in school. I didn't see my father before he died. My mother told me that my father died before I was born and that made me cry.

When she was dying, my mother told me one word, "Don't give up on your life, learn how to be at home and school."

When both parents were dead, I was staying with my aunt. My aunt was good, but her husband was bad to me. One day my aunt was working and her husband was not. He wanted everything at the same time when I cooked for him, then he was refusing what I made. He told me that he was not the one who killed my parents. "So get out of my sight! Go away! I don't want to see you in this house again. I can kill you right now, get out!
[this is as far as Brian has gotten, I think installment II will be happier. Ed.]

I forget from time to time that my two diminutive students Ireen and Marvin are sister and brother and sometimes I am intruding in a family argument when they are not getting along. Ireen may be small, but she has sufficient attitude to make up for it. She knows what she wants and has a withering look, if she doesn't get it. He brother is a distracted class member who I think of as the echo. He repeats whatever you say, never quite paying attention. If he hasn't asked what I just said, I have to go over and give him separate instructions.

My Story
by Ireen Kangwa

Hi, I just want to tell you about my story. I am in grade 5. I learn at Chishawasha. My name is Ireen Kangwa. I am ten years old. I was born in 1998.

My mother's name is Memory Moyo. My father's name is Marvin Kangwa. My brothers name is Marvin Kangwa.

When I was three years old my mother left me. My grandmother's name is Ireen Mwtnogo. My grandfather's name is Tryson Moyo. I have four aunts, they are Fefb [best the ed. could do], Ruth, Bertha and Agnes. My uncles are Moses, David and Stanley. My mother was a good woman and father was a good man. When I finish my education I will be a teacher. Both my parents died, my mother in 2002 and father in 2005.

I like school so much and my brother also like school too. I have many friends at home and at school. I like my aunt because when I say something, she will give me what I want.

Thank you aunt and uncle.

Story of My Life
by Marvin Kangwa

Hi boys and girls, I just want to tell you about my story. I am 13 years old. I was born in 1996. I am from Chishawasha and am in grade five.

My mother's name was Sallely and my father's name was Marvin. When I was 10 years old, is when my mother died. I was so sad, she died in 2006 and my father died the same year.

My grandfather's name is Stanley. I have a sister named Ireen Kangwa.

My mother was a good mother and my father was a good dad. Both parents have left me.

I like school so much and so does my sister Ireen. I have many friends at school and friends at home. I like my aunt, my sister, grandmother and grandfather. When I finish my education, I will be a doctor. Thank you.

Several of the girls on their own have continued their writing by posting "My Dearest Mother" messages, expressing their love for their mother repetitively.

This is Sam blog-pressing out of Africa

All About Myself

2009-05-29T09:31:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, Ms. Mwanza the head teacher of our school, gave her 7th grade students an assignment to write about themselves. She had done this with several classes before and decided it was worth repeating. She show me a few of them. She thought it would be nice to have they typed out. Since the school is without a computer o any kind, I volunteered to do it in the evenings at the Chishawasha business office (and my Zambian home). After reading just one of them, I asked for permission to use them on my blog.

The first student's story was of special interest to me because I was along the day he took what seemed a sad ride to Chishawasha and then he had the joyous reunion with a cousin. Here Amos' story:

All About Myself

My name is Amos Chindalo. I'm 13 years old and in grade 7. The name of my school is the Colin B. Glassco Primary School.

My mother's name was Veronica Tembo. She died when I was 11 years old. She was 31 years old.

My father's name was Paul Chindalo. He also died when I was 11 and was 31 years old when he died.

In my family, we were two, my sister and I. My sister died before I was born so I am alone. I feel bad because all my family is gone.

After the death of my parents, I went to live with my grandmother. She sent me to a school called ZOCS. I started my grade one. I was there up to the 6th grade. Grandma later heard bout the Colin G. Glassco Primary School. She brought me here. I was put in grade four because I couldn't read. Today I am in grade seven and I read and write well.

My favorite subjects are R.E. (Religious Educ.), math, English, science and social studies.

My hobbies are reading, playing football and praying.

When I grow up, I want to be a pilot. I want to be a pilot because I want to help passengers to travel from one country to another. I would also like to be a pilot because I want to know many countries, how they look and how big are the oceans and how it feels to fly in the air.

I will work hard so that I become a pilot. And I should know how to operate many things and must know many tribes. I think it will be better for me. And I must look smart and be careful for my batteries in the airplane. And one more thing to be a pilot, you must be intelligent.

* * * * * *

All About Myself

My name is Boston Lupupa. I was born in 1996 in Northern Province, District Mpika, Chief Luehembe. My mother left when I was very small and I don't know her years.

About my parents, my father was a fisherman. One day, while he was at the river, he was beaten and he came back sick and died. My father's parents thought that my mother's parents were responsible for my father's death. They bribed someone who was a witch, by giving him goats. He witched my grandparents. They didn't recover. They were brought home and an African medicine was tried but they never got well. They both died. After a month of their deaths, my mother got sick too and died. My parents had two boys and one girl. We were taken on by my uncle, who was just a young boy and he is still very young.

He left the village and came to Lusaka with us in 2002. He put us in school but he had to struggle mostly to feed us because he had no job. Luckily after some years he heard about this school and brought me here. I am lucky because the school provides everything for me. I am doing well. I hope to pass my examination. And when I finish my education, I want to go back to my village to see my sister and my aunties.
* * * * * * *

All About Myself

My name is Rachael Chibuyo. I am 14 and in grade seven. My favorite subjects are English, social studies, and science. When I grow up I want to be a journalist. I live in Chishawasha and my teacher's name is Ms Mwanza.

My hobbies are singing, reading, playing with friends and listening to music. I am very kind to many people. I love ppeople and I like laughting with people.

My mum was Salome. My aunt tells me that my mum and dad were good people, if someone in her family needed help, she would help. It make me happy to know that my mum and dad were kind people. They died when I was very small.

My brothers are Ali and Mula. My sister is Ngoi. My grandmother died in 2004 when I was alreaday here. She wasa a good woman.
* * * * * * *

About Myself

My name is Joshua Banda. I am 13 years old. I was born in 1996. I am in grade 7. I learn at Colin B Glassco Primary School. I was boorn in Kabwe.

My mother's name was Kabaso Bwalya. When she died I was 4 years old. My father's name was Joshua Banda. He died when I was 5. When my parents died, my grand mother took me from Kabwe to Lusaka. I stayed for 2 years without going to school Then someone came to our home and asked my gradnmother if she kept orphans, and she said yes. This lady brought me here. I Then starte my grade 4. I am very happy to be here.
* * * * * * * *

About Myself

My name is Mathews Mbewe. I am in and I go to Chishawasha.

My father's name was Patrick. He died in 1994 and left my mother pregnant. My mother's name was Miriam. After some months mum gave birth. After a year whe died. When we lost both parents, we were then taken by my uncle who later died too. We had no one to take us to school; we were just home and getting older. My aunt then heard abaout Chishawasha. She brought us here. We were too old to Start grade 1. I was 13 years old and my brother was 8. We were put in grade four. It was very difficult. The teacher had to fgive us grade one work.

Today I am very happy, I can now understand some of the things I learn. My teacher says I've made great improvement. I thank the owner of the school, my aunt who brought me here and my teacher Ms Mwanza. I pray for them every day. I will never forget them.
* * * * * * *

This is Sam Weeks blog pressing out of Africa (7th grade).

Sometimes a muzungu is just a muzungu,

2009-05-22T23:54:00.000-07:00

but sometimes he is a 'white person'.

A few years ago, I saw a large "For Whites Only" sign atop a bus in Lusaka. Took me a moment to realize it was a soap advisement. However, in the Post Office one day two women were complaining about the service they weren't getting. I wound up defending the PO employee. "Well, this is the reason you don't complain," said one holding her dark arm next to my pale one. They felt they were being discriminated against, and I was getting good service because I was white. There have been no other such incidents in all my months here.

Then last Saturday, Phillip and I were returning the large tent we had borrowed from the Zambian Air Force. When we arrived at the facility, Phillip went in the large guard house complex and was gone for about 10 minutes, he came back out and we sat for another 10 minutes. Finally a female officier emerged and looked us over as she slowly approached. Going to Phillip's side of the vehicle. "You didn't tell me you had a white person with you," she says.

So there I was, not a muzungu, which I prefer, but a white person. She didn't ask if I were Zambian, but was directed to a bench where I could wait for Phillip to return.

I should say the reverse happened at the US Embassy where on my first visit I had gone with Phillip to register. Phillip was directed by a Zambian employee to leave, with a 'get out' tone in his voice.

This Weeks' Interview:
Lazarous Mwale, age 16.

Lazarous became a special friend of mine on my last visit. He seemed to attach himself to me and was always ready to have something read to him. He and I didn't communicate well, he had a limited vocabulary in English and I had none in Nyanja. I often wondered what stories he most liked, until I realized he didn't care what I read, it was just 'the reading' he liked.

He was about 13 then and a 3 year resident of the orphanage. At times I could see he was hurting, staring off, focused on nothing with a forlorn look on his face. Questions as to how he was feeling or if there was anything that would make him feel better, or was there anything he would want to talk about, got no answer. I think Phillip said he had no more success than I. So at those times, I would just sit beside him for whatever time I had.

He would sometimes accompany me on my walks and it was in that way I learned something of his background, such as that he was raised in a village before moving to Lusaka. I've mention before that he would be distressed when the boys (without a village background) would chase the stray cows off our property by throwing rocks at them. He knew that cows were valuable and to be treated with respect.

Lazarous is in the 7th grade, a lanky shy fellow who is apt to look at the ground for a moment when addressed. His hobbies are reading, football and taking walks. One day he would like to be a pilot in the Zambian Air Force. He knows that he will have to first enter the army and then be chosen for training and duty in the Air Force.

His happiest time at Chishawasha was just last Friday at the Official Opening.
His saddest occasion here was when he learned of the death of his aunt (mother's sister). He had lived with her for a time.

What changes have you seen in your time here? The buildings, school, and the gardens are much bigger. The houses and the school are the biggest change.

What do you l like best here? The school.
What things would you change: I would make a new pitch [old one was put out of action by the new electric fence], and build more houses.

Relatives? I have no relatives here but I have an uncle and cousins I can visit in Lusaka. I have an older sister I have not visited in the village.

Friends? I have friends in Lusaka that I know from my visits there, as well as friends from church and here.

What would life be like if you had not come here? I would not have learned all that I have learned here. I may have gotten some school but nothing like this we have. Living with my aunt was not all bad.

What would you wish to find in the next container? Lots of books, lots of school things (supplies), and clothes.

What would you do if you had the money? Build houses for those who have none, for those in need, like we do here.

Any memories to share from your past? I had lived with my mother and father in the village, when my father died, I went to Lusaka to live with my aunt. K remember my parents. I was too young to go to school at that time.
Can you keep in touch with your siblings? My uncle who lives in Eastern Prov. tells me about how they are.

Anything else you'd like to say? I would like to know about you who read this.

A little thing, or is it?
Nshima (cooked maize meal) is served with every supper and sometimes lunch. These is this large white mound on about 1/3 of your plate, somewhat reminiscent of mashed potatoes, although much more resistant. You can easily cut portions with your fork. Zambians often serve a little meat with this and it comes with a small serving of 'soup' (gravy) which is always put on your meat.

It seemed like such a small thing to me, not the least unreasonable, to have my 'soup' served on my nshima just like gravy on mashed potatoes. When being served I have adroitly shifted plate to get the gravy where I wanted it, no luck. Seemed I only trained the server to be more observant. I have forcibly grabbed a young girl's arm who was serving me to direct the 'soup' nshima-ward, but without success, but did manage to cause some annoyance.

Last night when one of the boys was serving, I all but cried in my request for this special consideration. I won! But before the blessing, mother, at the other end of the table, spotted this unfortunate nshima and was directing one of the kids to remove the contaminated serving and give me a fresh one. I was able to thwart this without upseting the table. I can only guess at the level of offense I caused the others at that meal.

Well, the proper way to eat nshima is with your hands, not a fork. If you were picking up your nshima and rolling it into a ball, you would not want it covered with oily gravy. You daintily dip your balled nshima into the 'soup' before eating it. Pristine, white nshima is appetizing but not a serving covered with 'soup'. Some little things are much bigger than you could imagine.

This a more culture conscious Sam, blog pressing out of Africa.

The Official Opening

2009-05-16T12:01:00.000-07:00

About 7 on the bright sunny morning of the event, I went over to the school to see what was going on. This was the location of most that would be happening. A large tent was being put up in the play ground for the visitors but it was covering most of the area where we'd planned for the children to sit and perform. So when Ms Mwanza, the school manager, and the other teachers arrived, we made some quick changes which had the benefit (later) of putting more of the students in the shade during a long hot afternoon. We had not only a large tent for visitors, but also a smaller one for dignitaries.

The MC duties were handled nicely by Bishop Eddy Mulenga, the only complaint was that all his jokes were of the pulpit-tested variety

Jenny Liva as Board Chair made some welcoming remarks. In addition in her role as Chair of Refreshments, she and her chef from Protea Lodge provided wonderful food, I am told (our guests ate what they could and carried off the rest). None of the staff or students got any. Seems the quality of our guests (many were neighbors and guardians or parents of our local students) did not match up with that of the finger food provided. I witnessed one enthusiastic woman jerk out one of the paper doilies from under a plate of little sandwiches and proceed to use it as a plate to carry away as many as she could make it hold.

In planning this function several references were made to the nature of what was to be served. Phillip asked me, "What's finger food?" I started to explain its food you eat with your fingers-- a totally ridiculous definition, since all Zambian food is eaten with your fingers. "A snack, not a meal. Okay."

What all happened? Well the school was named for Colin Glassco to honor him and his foundation for financing it as well as several houses.

In addition I have vivid memories of children singing with full-throated voices, warm, rich harmony and African rhythm; tear raising recitations; adult professional performers of drummers and dancers, men leaping with vibrant and vibrating women; and speeches by dignitaries: Her Royal Highness Chieftainess Mungule (of her tribe and a geographic area, this is not simple!), the Honorable Deputy Minister Friday Mulwa (who came, but not on schedule), Foreign Service Officer from the US Embassy and former teacher, Malia Heroux, and Colin Glassco, Kathe Padilla and Phillip Mvula. There was no shortage of spoken words, but they we not all empty rhetoric. A request as made for more land for a high school and all the personages were present to make that decision and all were in agreement, the exact parcel of land to be announced later. Nothing like that could happen in the US, instant, on-site governmental action. There were other dignitaries but they didn't speak.

The ribbon cuttings opened the school and the houses followed by tours. The function was scheduled to run from 1:45 to 4 pm. It ran from 2 pm till sunset.
I had the opportunity to met some of the guardians of my students.

This Weeks' Interview:
Nicolas Banda, age 14, in the 7th Grade.

When I first met Nicolas 3 years ago, he was a quiet retiring, conscientious student who did his work by himself. His goal then was to be a preacher and from his manor seemed to be half way there. His Bible was his primary reference book. I could always call on him for a prayer and he seemed happy to oblige.

Some changes have taken place in the ensuing years as I learned when starting Writers' Club. The main question he and the other 4 boys wanted to discuss at the first meeting was "How do you talk to girls?" Spiritual maters had been forgotten or waylaid.

He was 8 years old when he came to Chishawasha.
His hobbies: Football and studying.
His goal: He wants to be a footballer when he grows up. Any ideas how you can make that happen? I've got to work hard at school to start.

Your happiest time at Chishawasha: When I first came here.
Your saddest time: When I quarreled with friends. (residents)

Changes you have seen: Many houses have been built since we moved from Olympia in Lusaka. We came by bus to our first house here which was still not completed.

What do you like best? School.
Like least? Playing sports other than football.

What would you like to change? I wouldn't change anything.

Relatives here or nearby? Yes, I have Charles here, my younger brother and Annette (see earlier interview), my older sister. I have an older brother and aunt that I can visit.

What would life have been like without Chishawasha? I couldn't have gone to school. I would have been passed around among my relatives, it would not have been very comfortable.

My father died when I was two, I don't remember him. My first memories are of my grandparents, they raised me. They were still alive when I came to Chishawasha. I came from Lusaka, but the years with my grandparents were in a village.

What would you like to find in the next container? Shoes, soccer shoes, clothes and football (soccer) pads.

If you had the money, what would you do? I'd buy myself a home and cars. Then I would build an orphanage like this one.

This is Sam blog pressing out of Africa.

Colin and Debbie leave, Kathe arrives

2009-05-09T04:21:00.000-07:00

Colin Glassco and Debbie Norman no sooner left than Kathe Padilla arrives--by cab! There was some confusion regarding her arrival date and no one met her at the airport. Despite the method of arrival, she still came with a truckload of ideas. (See next)

Chishawasha Enterprises
Kathe has plans for a string of businesses in Zambia to help support our work here and to provide work opportunities for our kids. With this in mind, she asked one of our former students, Florence, who seems just a bit adrift right now, if she would like a job in a store. With answer to the affirmative, this teacher is working with her on her math, change making and customer service skills.
Prep for Official Opening
We're cleaning everything. Everyone was out doing something by way of cleaning or removing rocks; I and 4 very enthusiastic kids went at the perimeter of the school yard. We collected 2 wheelbarrows of junk and some building materials. Some was from the workmen who'd lived on premises and cooked their meals on the edge of our yard. Much was from the kids. We worked hard with only one brief detour. As we moved methodically around the yard we came to some heavy brush. Three of my four assistants saw 'something' deep in the bush and eagerly scampered off, almost out of sight. There was no garbage; it was the chinga-chinga berries that are ripe just now and a powerful lure away from any work (anything). I called them back without success. Finally I was forced to use my deterrent of last resort on the fugitives. I blew on my sports whistle (loud enough to hurt my ears). It stopped them in their tracks and they returned sheepishly. I have no idea what gave this whistle that authority it has but then I don't question things too closely as long as they work.
School starts again, new student, old tricks and a box solution:
New classes, new students to work with, 5th and 6th grades. They seem a sharp bunch with all the characters that you could imagine in a group of 18 children and an especially wide range of heights, the tallest being more than twice as tall as the shortest. Then we got a brand new student, Mercy Banda (she is not related to our other Banda's nor to Samuel Banda of the Zambian Soccer team, its a common name.) To welcome Mercy into the class, coming with nothing, I gave her a new pencil and a rub (eraser) and a ruler, much to the envy of the rest of the class. A loud collective sigh as if rehearsed could be heard. Each of them had been working on me for a ruler, a rub or a pencil only because Ms Mwanza saw to it that I got a regular table for my 'desk' and promptly removed the old small table (with a drawer). Now without a drawer, all the supplies were laid out for everyone to see and handle and covet. If the teacher has pencils, you must have one, even if you have to hide those you have or generously loan them to others. "Teacher, teacher, I don't have a pencil." This is heard when you start a project and if you are dumb enough to fall for that, then half of the class is magically pencil-less. Half the period can be spent getting everyone a pencil and trying to figure out what they were using in the period just before. And then, "Teacher, teacher, I don't have a sharpener." By the time everyone is ready, you have just time to introduce the topic and the class is over. No one can sharpen a pencil as slowly and thoughtfully as a Zambian school child. Each is a connoisseur of a fine point.

I came home from school and found a rare cardboard box of which I took control, it will be my supply cabinet into which only my eyes and hands will be allowed and from which this tight old teacher will carefully mete out what is truly needed.

This Weeks' Interview:
Monica Phiri is 14 years old and has been here for 5 years. She is in the 6th grade. I remember her from my first visit 3 years ago, when she was an inquisitive, lanky tom-boy who could out-jump any of the boys on sports day and god knows they tried (for a while) then no one challenged her.

Today she is much more lady-like but still a teenage, not into competing with boys.

I have now had the pleasure of being her teacher. If anyone knows the answer to a question, she does. She is alert, but will soon pull a book out into her lap and start reading if this teacher isn't holding her interest sufficiently, thinking that he won't notice.

Her hobbies are singing, reading, African dancing, cooking, sewing and plaiting (hair).

Her dream is to become a doctor and work with orphans.

Her happiest memory here is when her younger sister came to join us a couple years ago.
She couldn't easily come up with a saddest memory while at Chishawasha.

What changes have you seen at Chishawasha? Well they have done everything for me. Oh, and there are all those new houses and more visitors. I enjoy the visitors.

What do you like best? The education.
What do you like least? [long pause] "The dishes?" I suggest. Yes, doing dishes.

Do you have relatives besides Tiness, your sister? Yes, my grandmother and grandfather.

Do you have friends outside Chishawasha? No.

What do you know or remember of your life before you came here? I know when my mother died, I was one year old and my grandmother took care of me. My earliest memories are of her. When I was 6, she had a stroke and I had to take care of her. I had to do everything to support her. There was not much money. It was through the Catholic Church that I got to Chishawasha.

What would you wish to find in the next container? Some DVD's, some movies.

If you had the money, what would you but or do with it? I'd buy a house and clothes for my grandmother and grandfather and others that I know.

New House Start:
The block press is going again and in use more hours than the sun shines, over 900 block made in one day. All this as a prelude to house SEVEN again thanks to Colin Glassco.

This is Sam blog pressing out of Africa

Whirl Wind Visit

2009-05-02T03:03:00.000-07:00

You daily do your job and surely the folk you work with are appreciative, but it is your job. Your routine and regular problems tend to keep the mind busy. Then you get a visit from Colin Glassco and Debbie Norman from Canada and the Glassco Foundation, our major contributor. Colin never stands still; he is always leaning hard towards his next appointment. His time is measured against a formidible list of things that must be done. As he says there is a good portionof his head labeled, Donor. His purpose is to see that contributors get an almost first hand view of what their money has done and is doing. As we are touring our facility, Colin is reviewing the rest of the day with Debbie and you can feel his day and your part in it. Cameras, video and still, record where we are with each of those funded projects. All this gets you looking at your everyday routine as something much larger and worthy of inspection and come with an overwhelming gratefyllness for the faith and generosity of Colin and others thousands of miles away.

For such an exhilarating, it was not without its problems which seem almost humorous now. It started when Phillip arrived on foot in the morning. He explained that the large lock we bought yesterday for the new front gate did not seem to work with the one key that was with it. Unable to unlock the gate, he left his car and climb over it. He retrieved the extra keys that had come with the lock, at least one of which worked and our day was started. But there was to be one more 'key' problem. Phillip had in this 'timed' visit managed to work out a surprise for our guest, lunch at Portea Lodge and a chance for Colin to and the chair of our board, Jenny Liva, to meet. She runs the lodge so it would be about the only way for them to get together. Everything was going smoothly right up to the surprise. We had gotten in the van and about to drive off, except the ignition key would not turn, the mechanism had frozen up. The fact that the Glassco Foundation had purchased this vehicle only added to the uncomfortableness of the situation. The clock seemed like an inevitable steam roller pressing the rest of the day flat. I have no idea how long we 'played' with that key and ignition, was it hours? Debbie and Colin, seasoned travelers were used to dealing with unexpected delays. But finally Phillip's car returned from its errands. A quick check or the schedule revealed that we could still make it if we persevered and se did. Wonderful meal, Jenny a gracious hostess, and back on time (give or take 5 minutes) to the hotel in Lusaka.

New Month: A new house on my monthly meal rotation:
You have to 'learn' a new house; each has a different feel, different rules, and different expectations of the guest.

Things you would notice as a first-time guest in any of the houses: You are the first to be seated, generally at the head of the table. Water is brought for you to wash your hands (soap and towel may be included). You are served first. Once in your chair, you do not rise for anything that anyone else could possibly do for you, until the meal is over. Things brought to you like a fork may come by way of a child with a respectful kneel. You are the only one with knife and fork. You will have your own private water pitcher and only you will have access to the juice flavoring to put in your water to mask the boiled flavor. Since you are seved first, you have to wait the longest to start eating and only after grace has been said. Most of the conversation at the table will be in Nyanja and thus incomprehensible to you. Some polite coversation will be made from time to time in English. Water to wash may be offered again at the end of the meal. You will be severely questioned if you should take the initiative to say take your dishes out to the kitchen. "Wasn't there a mother or one of the children to do that for you?" At each house I have explained several times that it is nice to be such a pamped guest, but it is even nicer for me to be 'one of the family'. Through improving negotiations, I have gotten the 'Ritz treatment' down to about one night.

Do they know what I like and don't like? They seemed to and it was like this info was passed from house to house along with me. By the time you've gotten to your 4th house, you feel confident. That was until Friday and the first night in house 3, I was being served and I asked what it was (it was not obvious). "Offals" was the answer delivered along with two portion on my plate with the beans and nshima. My mind quickly weighed my alternatives. My stomach was not feeling in an experimental mood (as the day I ate the termites). I didn't want to waste the food so I offered it back apologetically. I had forgotten about offals and had thought that capenta (very small dried fish) was the only dish I didn't care for. Other houses fixed soya bits for me on capenta nights. This was the first meal of offal I had encounted on this visit.

The story reading detail came with me and it was expected after supper. One child brought me a story-picture book to read, lasted only a few minutes and I picked "Charlotte's Web" which we are now well into, with a first night audience of 8.

This Weeks' Interview:
Annette Mwala is 16 and came at age 11 when we were in Lusaka. She is in grade 8 at SOS school.

On my last visit, she was a student of mine and was shy but smart and I would call on her when nobody else knew the answer. She was not quick to raise her hand and she was not altogether comfortable with me as her teacher and would look at me skeptically when I was trying something new. (And she like the others was having difficulty understanding me.) I did not fit her picture of what a teacher should be. I was not Ms Mwanza, whom all the children loved and trusted and never did silly things like this guy. Annette, I would say was always reserved and I never worried about her not doing her own work or cribbing on an exam.

When needing a song, hers was a strong voice which quickly inspirred the others to join in. She was also reliable for a morning prayer. (Yes, we do that here.)

Hobbies: Dancing (African), singing and listening to music (gospel).
Goals: Jouralist or lawyer. She would like to continue her education abroad.
Happiest memories: When her brother Charles came to live here.
Saddest memories: When Mother Alice past away.
Changes at Chishawasha: I speak and understand English. How much did you understand what I said on my first visit? Not a lot. (Ouch! Oh, did I say she was honest?)

Changes in our organization: We are helping a lot more people.
Like best: The teaching, [that is] my education.
Like least or what would I change: (no offering)

Other relatives: I have a cousin here: Nicholas Banda.

Friends outside Chishawasha: Yes at my old school and now at the new one.

What was life like before Chishawasha: No school, nowhere to live, no one to take care of us. Where you taking care of your younger brother at that time? Yes. [She had come originally saying she had no siblings as she check this organization out. Once she determined it was safe, brought her brother in.]

Container wish: Laptop, radio, clothes and shoes.

If you had the money: I'd buy clothes, shoes and yes, a house. If anything happened here, I would have a place to go.

Anything else you'd like to say:
I started out in Lusaka. I remember my parents. My father was a truck driver. Did he ever let you ride in the truck? Yes. He died of T-B when I was 9. My parent divorced when I was 5. My father remarried and my step-mother was bad, she also died when I was was 9. I lost contact with my mother. She remarried, I don't know her name. She had other children. I would like to find my other brothers and sisters, I have tried but so far without success.

Signs of Protea
Our old small sign on the Great North Road will be removed and put at our entrance off Minestone Road. A larger sign will replace it all thanks to Protea Lodge. As Jenny Liva said the original was too small for a fast trafficked highway, hardly readable unless you were looking for it. But it will be just the thing to direct folks into our drive and new gate.

Soccer Report: For the want of a shoe...
A couple of times last week around 4 pm, I went for an amble and wound up following the noise to the new temporary soccer pitch at the end of the school.

So much energy dissipated in those last two hours before the sun went down. Hard playing and including many of the younger boys, some of whom could mix it up with the oldest twice their height. Boys played to exhaustion, bent over to catch their breath and then got at it again.

What most caught my attention was their foot gear or lack of it. Many went barefoot, although much of the pitch is hard packed clay there are plentiful stones of various sizes. John, one of our best players, was wearing sandal. I told him that I was sure this was illegal since every time he kicked the ball wih any force the others had to not only watch where the ball was going, but also had o follow the trajectory of his sandal to keep from being hit. Wisedom was playing with one knee length red sock on withsomething wrapped round his ankle beneath it. Siva was playing with one (winter) boot. You would have no problem counting the toes of most players, shoe or no. Needless to say, none had soccer shoes. It was painful for me walking back with them in the on-coming darkness. They were limping and wobbling like old soldiers fresh from a campaign.

It just so happened that yesterday was 'shoe day' at the warehouse and I attended to see if anyone was getting soccer shoes. There were none. Some of the shoes were sports shoes, but most were in such good condition that they wouldn't get near the ptich for at least 6 months and as many toes showing.

Knowing about this blog, John asked me to make soccer shoe appeal and I just did.

This is Shoeless Sam blog pressing out of Africa.

The wages of reading?

2009-04-25T01:18:00.000-07:00

The after-supper reading has been going along fine, several chapters a night. Perhaps it's unrelated but eggs began being offerred afterward. Then more eggs in threes and then in quantities of 10.
And what was that mysterious 4th bowl on the supper table one night? (Usually only the standard 3: nshima, cooked veg. leaves and meat or beans.) No one was talking. It was served after the meal, homemade yogurt banana pudding. Dessert is way off any Zambian menu. Another night fresh orange halves were served for the reader and all the listeners. And more eggs.

This Weeks' Interview: Wisedom Muzoka
Wisedom is 17 years old, of short stocky build. He was 12 when he came to the orpanage then in Lusaka.

His is not as open as some of the others and just a bit more difficult for me to understand. He speaks at a faster clip to my ear.

I remember him coming to my room on my first visit and always feeling a little put off by him. He was slow to tell me what he wanted because his eyes were roaming around my room. Even as he talked, he usually didn't look at me but continued (I think) to inventory my belongings. He was a frequent visitor until I found he always came with that same phrase, "Sir, I am asking for the ____ (his current need). He usually was asking for something he'd seen on a previous trip, but sometimes he was on a 'fishing expedition". I felt my only use to him had to do with what I had brought with me.

Later when I began to greet him with "What do you need now?" and not being forthcoming in providing it, he was not above sending others who seemed on better terms with Uncle Sam to try instead. When questioned carefully as to why something was needed, the covert agent would eventually fold and say it was for Wisedom. He needed a variety of things but mostly having to do with batteries and electronics.

Wisedom is in the 11th grade. His current hobby is learning the guitar and listening to music, mostly hip hop.

Sports: I like football (soccer) and I am good at it. I am learning basketball. I would like to play golf. [no idea where that came from]

Goals: I would like to complete my current studies and then take some courses in banking and find a job in that field.

His happiest memory here: When I passed 7th grade final exams and oh, when I got a laptop that worked.
His saddest: He could come up with one. [Others suggested that he would have had several to consider.]

Changes he has seen here: The children are getting older.

What I like best here: The kind of life... he hesitated. "life-style' I suggested, Yes, he agrees.

Changes he would make: More sports and group outgings, camping, visiting game parks, and such.

Relatives: I have a sister who lives far away but I have gotten to see her. I also have a brother I haven't seen in years.

Do you have friends outside Chishawasha?
Yes, I have friends from school, from church and from the neighborhood.

What would life have been like without Chishawasha?
I would not have been exposed to so many good friends, my education would have hiccupped (been hit or miss). I would have been out of it... I am more up to date now.

My 'next container' wish: Laptop, that is a better functioning laptop, Windows, Apple computer. Also musical instruments, guitar and keyboards.

If you had the money: I would buy a good house in Lusaka and a fancy car. Anything left over, I would give to some place like Chishawasha.

Anything else you would like to say I appreciatet the laptops that were sent, I use one in my studies.

Addendum:
Last night after the 'evening story time' Wisedom came swaggering in, dressed in a 'new' sports coat (he'd been 'shopping' in our warehouse donations) and carrying a brief case which he said contained a little cash for Uncle Sam as he plops it on the table in front of me. He could have been a mafia boss, he was accompanied by a group willingly portraying his seedy henchmen. Each of whom would slink by and try to take the brief case. I asked him what kind of car he'd come in. "Oh, the hummer is parked outside," was the answer with a jerk of the head.

Official Opening Report:
Everyone, everything is leaning hard toward this grand event. The embassies have not yet responded as to what level of officials they will be sending, will keep you posted. Anyone have a red carpet/brass band?

Fence Update:
The fence is complete, 15 electified wire strands. This comes with an impressive gate and guardhouse and an introductory wall on which a sign will be painted to tell you what impossing organization lies beyond. The new entrance road is still just fresh-cut from the bush (unimproved track) at present.

Guitars
In my interviews guitars have come up as possible contain items. I have since learned that the two guitars we have came from previous containers. And I should say that those two instruments are currently providing lessons for 6 students, including John, Toko and Wisedom who you now 'know' blog-wise.

Chingachinga Season:
Chingachingas are wild red berries about the color, size and tartness of cranberries, but they are mostly pit. Not much fruit. But enough to keep kids picking them and bringing pocketfulls to class. This soft-hearted teacher thought he couldn't really stop their consumption so he allowed them in class. Intent on what he was doing, about a half hour later, gets up to walk to the board, but this is now difficult from all the chingachinga seeds on the floor. We took a chingachinga seed break in instruction to sweep.

Games:
Our young folk spend a good deal of time playing games. It would be hard to find a time to walk across our campus and not see at least three groups ingaged in some game or other. Some you would recognize as Marbles and various competitive ways of jumping rope (or short section of hose), or games like Jacks played with small stones, throwing one up and snatchin another from a pile before catching it. Hop Scotch is common on the school play grounds but not much around the homes.

Yesterday I saw my first game of Chishawasha tennis. It is played with a tennis ball, of course. The raquettes were two short pieces of plank liberated from a construction site. These require only two-handed shots. The court size depends on how much area you can cover while the ball is in the air. And it is playes sans net.

We have a soccer pitch, or we did, before the fence. As it currently stands, the back of one goal keeper would be dangerously near the electirc fence. Keeper are under enough pressure without that. So the pitch will have to shift at bit. No one is anxious to go back to playing on stubble and trampling it down to hard packed palying surface again.

The goals are rustic, upright poles and a cross piece cut from the bush. The main obstacle to soccer here is the omnipresent thorn bushes. One kick out-of-bounds can be a deflating experience for the toughest soccer ball. That is why you often see the younger kids, especially, playing with a very limp ball.

There are some neighborhood teams that come and play against the Chishawasha squad from time to time. There are other schools in the area, might be a possibility of a tournament.

The warehouse has a basketball hoop on the side. Just recently the court has been severely deministhed by a load of crushed stone. The basketball at least is usually inflated sufficiently to dribble, all thorn bushes have been banished from that busy work/traffic area.

I promise more fun and GAMES later, could do a whole blog on nothing else.

This is Sam at play, blog pressing out of Africa

Poceza M'Madzulo

2009-04-18T03:30:00.000-07:00

Poceza M'Medzulo. Its pronounced just like it looks (with a'ch' for the 'c' and a sort of stutter on the 'm's'. Zambians are fairly tolerant of mispronunciations (unless of course they are young children trying to teach you, in which case you are better than a stand-up comedian). Oh yes, and what does it mean? Rough translation: evening story time. But the full flavor of these words would be an after sunset communal gathering which would naturally be under a tree, include a fire and of course a story teller and would occur most commonly during the cold, dry season.

It seemed accidental to me. After supper, individual children have been bringing a book for Uncle Sam to read and one to three little ones might sit or stand by, trying to get their book 'next' in line. However, this week -definitely into the cold, dry season- I somehow got to the bookcase first and spotted some books I would like to read to them. First was Redwall by Brian Jacques. Why not try a chapter and see how it goes? I couldn't stop with one chapter, after chapter 5, I looked up at a pleasant mix of older and young kids (6-18) with expectant faces waiting for more. "To be continued," I said considering the hour.

I had not realized (or maybe remembered) the powerful draw of a story other than as a break from work during school hours. But then I did recall rushing back to elementary school after lunch, making sure I was on time for the next chapter of Piggly Wiggly or some such story. So now 7th Grade studies during this vacation study schedule, start with a chapter of Redwall. They come on time and sit without shoving desks around and fighting over books, and they begin to work quietly when it is over. So much more pleasant than the screech of metal desk legs being pushed over concrete by 3 or 4 students and then trying to speak over the din to say, "Its time to settle down."

This Weeks' Interview: Thokodzide Kauma
Thoko (sounds like Toko) is 18 and a very self assured, caring person with an easy smile and an enjoyable, thoughtful interviwee.

She came to Chishawasha when it was in Lusaka at age 11 and has been with this organization for 7 years, the same as John (from last weeks blog). She is in 11th grade in high school. She likes reading and listening to gospel music. She also enjoys caring for others and you can tell, she does it so naturally, she has a calm reassuring presence, with very much the air of a house mother and I think she could fill in in this capity when needed. A week ago, I was anxious for my lunch so I could be back to school on our 'vacation' schedule. She gives me that charming smile and says, "No problem, Uncle Sam," and got me well fed and out there on time, seemingly effortlessly. She also has taken care of Shaback, Maria and Phillip's new baby, which she has asked o do.

Her favorite school subject so far: Accounting.

Her goal is to study medicine or mass communication. She will continue to work hard through 12th grade and then look for a university outside Zambia.

Her happiest memory here: When I made it to the 10th grade.
And her saddest was when she didn't do well in her end-of-term exam in 10th grade.

Changes I have seen: "We have become more friendly."
What I like best here: The education and meeting new people and making new friends. She has friends both from school and church.

What would you change? "Would like separate housing for the older kids."

She has relatives which she can visit, grandparents, brothers and cousins.

How would life have been without Chishawasha?
Hard and there was not much education.

What was it like before you came? I was living with grandparents and a brother and getting some schooling. But it was uncomfortable, it was hard on them.

What would you buy if you had the money? "A house and farm with chick-run, cows, pigs and vegetable garden.?
She is certainly not your typical teenager.

School Report: Matching wings.
Somehow the contractor got some paint that was just a shade off in color from the first wing and painted the second wing with it. Thanks to some diligent and perceptive students the problem was corrected. A second disaster was avoided when they noticed that their seond bucket of paint was a shade off the first one they had just finished and none of that got applied. Now both wings match

The school is coming together. Since we are in and using it every day, like your growing child, you sometimes miss things by the slow but steady changes and these jump out at you when looking at pictures even a few weeks old. But we do have a deadline. See next item.

The Official Opening of the Chishawasha Children's Home and Learning Center.
Well its about time. Kathe started this all 7 years ago in Lusaka and then moved to our present location about 10 km north of town. But now with the completion of the shcool and the visitation of Colin Glasscow from Canada (he is responsible for the major contributions including our water supply and buildings) it seems we need to acknowledge and celebrate this event. So an appropriate event is being planned which means a major effort to complete everything and make it all spffy for visitors and to organize the happening.

Event planning had P and I visiting the US and Canadian Embassies. The results are not yet in as to the level of representative that will be attending/speaking from each of these countries. We may have the Acting High Commissioner from Canada (with the help of some folks in Canada) and I was trying to use that as a bargaining chip for someone above a secretary's secretary from the US. There will be one of ministerial level from the Zambian government. And if that is not enough, the refreshments are being handled by Protea Lodge. Let me know if you are interested, I may be able to finagle you an invitation. The date? The middle of May.

Weather report:
Sunny but colder and drier. You never notice it when it happens, but somehow the copious rains have been turned off and there is no longer any mud in sight. Some mornings a jacket is required. We may see rain again in maybe 4 months.

Perimeter Fence:
The way has been all cleared despite the a horde of bees with contray views. One can now easily walk our boundries. It has that peaceful feeling one used to get walking down Minestone Road, before it was turned in to a thoroughfare. Several heavy metal posts have been set in concrete, some with sturdy braces. This give the place a much more finite feeling than it had before. The new access road is cleared and the beginnings of the guard house can be seen.

This is Sam Weeks at the end of that road, blog pressing out of Africa.

Melba Finch on Melba Toast?

2009-04-11T04:28:00.000-07:00

Bird Report:
Another near bird visitation ocurred last week. I was sitting in my classroom and heard that sickening 'thud' of a bird hitting a window. I checked to see, on the sidewalk a dead male Green-winged Pytilia (also known as a Melba Finch) not an uncommon caged bird and personally known to me from my charges at the Smithsonian Nat. Zoo. It had given its life trying to make a visit, but missed the open window. I think the watering of the grass between the wings of the school had attracted it and a sudden fright sent it on its last flight path through, not over, the school. It is beautiful and improbably colored (by No. American standards). Bright red face and bill, grey head, olive back, red tail and a stripped breast of pale orange and black. That's a lot of color for a bird about the size of your thumb.

I took it around to show the students who seemed intent on getting a look at it. Some asked to touch it and carressed its feathers. Others asked in an off-hnad way what was I going to do with it and pinched its breast. Melba Finch on Melba Toast?

Then in some ornithological semetry, the next bird I got a good clear, unobstructed look at out the school window on the wild side was a male Eastern Paradise-Whydah hopping around on open ground. No binocs needed. Nothing to compare it to in No. America. Sparrow-sized bird with black head, orange bib, yellow back of the head, black back and yellow breast. But its hard to get these details because what you are looking at is his TAIL, which is three times longer than the bird, all black slightly down curved, except for a couple of feather are 'twisted' at right angle to the others and arch upward. Having an appendage like this has got to be a 'drag'. The birds seem to fly well but often with an upward pitch in a head wind to stay airborn. Finally (we come full circle) the females of this species parasitize nests of the Green-winged Pytilia. Perhaps he was looking for his 'adopted' father, now deceased.

The resident of the week: John Makunda

John is 17 and a mature, capable and easy going fellow, not difficult to converse with and with a good sense of humor. He is one you turn to when things go wrong: he knows where things are and how to get them and how things work, esp. compouters and he is as calm as he is capable.

Yes, a sense of humor: Near the end of my last visit, John and Wisedom came to my room with somber faces and presented my with a large sum of money. "Whats this and where did you get it?" I asked.
"its for you Uncle Sam," they answered, ignoring my questions. For abaout 10 minutes we went round and round without any clarification other than "its for you Uncle Sam," in the most sincere manor. I protested that I couldn't figure out where they had gotten it and that I could not accept it under any circumstances. I couldn't get them to take it back.

Finally as they turned to leave, John tossed off over is shoulder that it was the egg money from Phillip that I would need on my next errand. How nicely done, I was still sputtering in protest-mode when the message sank in.

John came to Chishawasha at age 10 (2001) at its original location in Lusaka and has spent 7 years with this very much 'extended family'.

He likes computers, basketball and soccer; is a good athlete and must be 6 ft. tall. In school he likes geometry especially as relating to engineering. He would like to take his high school A-levels, do a 'year of Cambridge' here, then look into other schools pursuing either engineering or accounting.

His happiest memory is when he got his first laptop (no, he corrected) his first working laptop.

When asked about his saddest time he quickly says when I got dumped by my girl friend (joke, laughter). "Which of the many?" I ask. Likely saddest times are not easily shared.

He has seen many changes in his time here. "We started with one house, now more buildings, more children, more fun, more friends to hang out with and play sports with." Then he adds thoughtfully, "more children, more problems."

He has friends outside Chishawasha, they are school mates.

What he likes best about this place is the education it provides. What he likes least is doing dishes. He does like to cook, I have enjoyed food he has prepared.

Things he might change? He would build a youth hostel where teenagers could live together and it would be set up so they would have their own budget and could buy some of the their own things and learn to handle money.

He has relatives: Grandparents and cousins at some distance whom he can visit. He considers himself a city boy, not of, or from the village. He stuts around the room to demonstrate his sophistication, asking incredulously "Do I look like a country boy?"

What might your life have been like without Chishawasha? "I think I would have been a very irresponsible citizen and ignorant.

What was life like before you came here? "Miserable and hopeless?"

Imagine what you might most like to find in the next container: "Computers, including Apples, musical instruments, esp. electronic keyboard, guitar, sources of music such as ipods, etc. Maybe a video game such as play station.

If you had the money, what would you buy? Lots of thought.... "maybe a motor bike."

Vacation School Schedule

How can you have a school schedule during vacation? Well we just do, for those that need it and for some it includes Saturdays and Sundays and it sure includes this teacher, 8 - 4, M - F and a couple of weekend afternoons. I can't complain about the schedule since I made it up from the components Ms Mwanza gave me. I sort of know when I was doing it, that Zambians don't have the concept of 12 - 1 lunch break which is a part of the routine for me and some of the students. The mothers seem to be adjusting and my lunches have been good if not as timely as I would like. (Notice how every topic in this blog eventually gets back to food?) To save time while watching one mother cutting up raw cabbage, I offerred that it didn't have to be cooked for me. Got a skekptical look. As a matter of fact, I continued, I might even like it better that way. I as handed a bowl full to which I added some vinegar, mayo and salt (there is no pepper in kitchens here). I was observed (maybe heard) enjoying myself so much that I got a bigger bowl the next day. Oh yes, it's these little things in life that matter!

I should mention that the Vacation School Schedule includes an Easter Holiday which I do get. What is a holiday during a vacation?

Perimeter Fence.

Take this item off the 'badly needed list'. The boundaries are being cleared as I write. This is a double joy. First that it is being done at all and second, that it is financed by they Zambian Board's efforts. The Board Chair, Mrs. Jenny Liva, Manager of the Protea Lodge, is a go-getter and great fan of what we do. Besides heading up the board and fundraising, she is always offering things like bags of starter grass for the school grounds, books for the craft market booksale, and you have to be careful about mentioning refreshment needs for special functions because she is apt to say, "Oh, let me take care of that."

I happened to meet the contractor who is doing the fence as he was working on our contract. He has done and maintains the enclosure for Protea Lodge which in their case must keep in wild animals such as African antelopes. So I inquired if he gaurentees his fences to keep in things like Kudus. "Oh yes." he responded quickly. "Good," I said, "would that also cover teenagers?" He grinned and said he thought not. No "teenage clause" in our contract. But the fence is not to keep anyone in but others out.

Whats out of place here?

Sometimes the sight of something triggers thoughts and feelings from the past and other places, as did the homemade soap a while back. While in Africa, frequently these stimuli seem often to include something jarringly 'oout of place' as regards your memory's image. The sight for instance, or our maize stalks being gathered in and stacked in large shocks and sure enough there were the pumpkins, not bright orange yet, but large ehough to make jack-o-lanterns. Here were the very symbols of Thanksgiving and Halloween. The eye sometimes sees what it want to see. I ran to get my camera to shoot this picture so reminiscent of past holidays and now seldom seen at home. While trying to compose the pictures in that soft afternnoon light, something was not right. Something was shocking by its innocent presence but I could not get an angle that would eleminate it. No, those large, bright green banana trees in the background did not lend the effect I was after. I had not seen them earlier.

This is Sam blog pressing out of Africa and still waiting to pick his first banana from a tree.

Another woman like my mother?

2009-04-04T03:08:00.000-07:00

Somewhere there is or was another just like my mother. A person who couldn't kep a handle on her hobby and let it get all out of control. Perhaps she was a worse case than my mother whose addiction had far ranging effects, but never got as far as Zambia. Perhaps if she'd lived longer...

When a few of the oldest of her six children started leaving home, she needed something to take up the slack. Somehow she got into soap making. A pretty clean hobby, you might think compared to some. However, this activity quickly escalated and the supply soon outstripped the demand (if there was any). Not only was she making soap at home and had the neighbors saving their fat for her, but she started teaching classes in soap making. Everyone inthe family and then even relatives were expected to do their part and use more soap or find outlets for it. I know personally that an entire dorm wing at Montana St. College was kept clean by it for almost a year; I did my part.

Well you can imagine my surprise and the waves of emotions that poured over me when what should come out of several boxes from the container shipment, but these brown cakes in the shape of tin forms also included. This seemed a 50 year old time-capsule from my past. It was not just the soap itself nor the tin forms, but the quantity that spoke to me. I could see my mother working on her soap and smell the basement where much of the activity took place and hear her voice, pleading in a demanding way for me to grind up that brick-hard stuff so she could use it in the washer (this is as close as she ever got to child abuse). I don't she ever shipped any abroad. It is the only soap now used here in the school restrooms. So I am daily transported overy many miles, through many years and somewhere there is a family relieved of an excess of homemade soap. Thanks for the memories.

Some benefits from the economic slowdown.

About a year ago, Phillip had told me that electrical service here was getting worse with ever more frequest blackouts. But since I have been here, we have not had many. Some weeks go by without a break (galling now that we have our super generator).

The explanation is that a year ago, the Zambian electric company had more customers than it could support. The largest consumer was the copper industry which was using 47% of the total. Now that copper is now 'on hold' there is plenty for everyone.

Force

Force or Fossy likes stories and being read to. He isin 1st grade now, but out habit of reading together goes back 3 years during my first visit and we established an evening read in which many others joined (crowded) in. Force being the youngest was usually in my lap and other would 'press' around even on the hottest evening, each needing to se the book.

Besides reading, we enjoyed playing together. We invented a game one when he had a big stick. He would grab one end and I the other and then he'd lead me on a tour of his play area. Then it would be my turn and the more ridiculous the tour, the better, in tight cirles, up stairs and down. To anyone watching I would proudly point out the "big fish" I had caught. Even now at time Fossy is called Big Fish by the others.

He was too young for school then and the only child at home when all the others left in the morning. He played energetically by himself, often doing what he saw the ever present workmen doing. I remembe him digging 'footings' with a stick roughly 1:40 scale of the real thing not far off.

From time to time, he would get lonesome and 'visit' school especially during recess. Once he came in and seated himself at a school table. He seemed very student-like so I gave him a pencil and paper. I never saw a child work so diligently on his symbol representation of writing and when not writing he seemed a careful observer. Well now he is doing the real thing. I have yet to encounter him in his classroom.

For the month of March in my 'house rotation', I have been eating in Fossy's house and he has sat beside me during all the meals. He is quiet but volunteers to say grace more often then asked. It isn't easy to get a word in amongst the older kids chatter during meals. But once over and before the table is cleared he there with a book. He has to be fast for there are 2 older girls who will cut him out of the action, though they are much more into the attention they get than any story, judging by how they talk to eachother and anyone else in the room while I am reading. I try to give Force priority and always take at least one of the books he brings and make sure there is not a girl between us while reading it.

Last Saturday night, Zambia played Egypt in soccer and everyone else left quickly after the meal to watch the game on TV and Fossy and I had a wonderful uninterupted reading session. I think Uncle Sam tired first, said good night to Big Fish and trundled off to his bed.

In The Company of Adults

2009-03-28T02:09:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday afternoon we had a meeting of the Zambian Board of Chishawasha. It was a good and productive meeting of enthusiastic members and everything went well. As I stepped out into the warm afternoon sun, I had the most expansive feelings of well-being. Yes, it was a good meeting but it couldn't have had such an effect on my emotions. Then it came to me that I had been in the compnay of adults for a coupel hours and engaged in conversation on topics other than math or the alphabet and the sounds that letters make. What a wonderful feeling! I had even enjoyed the 'prevelidge' of taking notes, something I always avoid is such meetings.

How many seeds in a banana? Or where is the maize?

In science class we recently covered flowers and flower parts and pollination and fertilisation (as we spell it here). So in our class this week we were working on what becomes of those fertilised flowers. In prep for the class, I got permission to go around and filch stuff from the gardens. I had been warned about getting permission lest I be shot. I inquired of the mother who gave me the okay, as to whether she had a gun. She was unarmed. I used mostly things that were aged beyond use in the kitchen: small pumpkin, small squash, some red impwa (egg plant: when edible they are green or white and are the shape and size of an egg), picked my first okra and finally took three ears of maize. I suplimented these with a couple of apples, plums and bananas from the store.

Students were supposed to cut these open, draw them and note the number of seeds. Some adults here, previous to the class had assured me that bananas have no seeds. So I made sure that we counted them, or rather estimated the number. Each student got a narrow, measured section of a banana and counted the seeds in that. Then with the length of the banana, they could roughly estimate the total number. Rather than have them count the seeds in an ear of maize, again suggested another estimate: count the seeds in an average row and then multiply that times the number of rows. While I was doling out measured banana slices to one group of students, I gave the maize to another. It wasn't until near the end of class that I realized that the maize had disappeared. Very few kids had seen it. Well I knew the fruit should be watched closely and kept my eye on that, but I hadn't thought the raw ears of maize would be such tempting items.

I think I traced those ears back to the culprit. So for our next class, he will get to estimate the seeds on three ears of maize and then count them to see how close he was. But worst of all, he will have to give it all away afterward, getting none for himself. What a diabolical teacher.

School Work?

Much work is being done on the school building and grounds. Some badly needed gutters have been installed. Rain from the roof of the school has been carrying away our playground and was laying bare the foundation in places. And finally our new concrete walkways have ended abruptly at the edge of the high covered porchway connecting the classrooms. There was an awkward step up or down that this old teacher always tried to do gracefully, but rarely succeeded. Well now we will have steps. On our next school day the concrete should be dried and set.

New Generator

Our new generator is connected and fueled up. It automatically starts 5 seconds after a power outage and shuts off when it comes back on. Now that would seem to solve all our power problems, right? No, this is Zambia. Now that we have this generator, our electric company it seems has hooked up many more folks to the same transformer, so the power doesn't just quit, it goes off and on, and of and on, rapidly enough that our generator doesn't want to get involved. Its hell on computers and other equipment and your well-being in general after a half hour or so.

House Rotation

Early on in my sty here, it was decided that each house would get me for a month for supper. Prior to this, I was getting passed around and would go to supper with who ever came to get me. But communications got scrambled and a couple of times I missed my evening meal. A monthly schedule was instigated. So starting in April, I will get to adapt to a third new house and their customs which keeps the routine from being too routine.

Bird Report:

Bulbuls, boubous and sunbirds. The sunbirds have been feeding 'in' the large blossoms of a common foxglove species just outside my classroom window.

How a chameleon can change more than just its color.

It was mentioned in conversation that chameleons were common in this area, yet I had not seen them now or on my first visit. So I asked the kids if they found one to let me know. It happened and I thought it strange that they came and took me to the chameleon. It was a bit of a walk and a chameleon might disappear in the mean time. Seems they could have picked it up and brought it to me. Well it was on the ground surrounded by somewhat apprehensive looking kids. They were more upset when I picked it up and put it on my sleeve. I walked back with it to get my camera and no one came with me. I didn't realize how strange that was at the time. The statement that 'I am going to get my camera' is usually the equivalent of the pied piper at work. So I took the pictures in peace without incident and left the reptile on th banana leaf which had served as my wildlife studio.

Somewhat later, several of the girls came to do a special cleaning for the board meeting. While hardly through the door, I began being quizzed regarding the whereabouts of 'that animal'. Sensing how much they disliked it, I lied and said that it had gotten away inside and would they please take care not to step on it. "Oh! is that it next to your head?"

So now I have a powerful defense. Several of the younger girls have had much fun informing me that they are witches and might harass me on my way home in the dark and have tried to hide behing the foliage to frighten me with much laughter. Nothing I could come up with could counter their determination, I was sure to be frightened. But now all I have to do is mention my friend, the chameleon, and I have way more protection than anyone would need. The night time paths are safe again.

The First Day of Spring??

2009-03-21T03:08:00.000-07:00

So you have passed your 1st day of spring. We've had spring-like weather here. A couple of weeks ago we went through a kite flying fad. Kites were made from strong grass stems a bit like bamboo, covered with plastic from shopping bags. Kite string comes from those large woven plastic bags by un-weaving and then tying the strips together.
Encourage by all this fun, Uncle Sam decides they need to see a box kite and I gather the materials. I have kite string! The grass stems seem a bit heavy and slippery, hard to tie firmly together. Several Zambian kite flyers have viewed my offering (as yet unfinished) and pronounced it "dead in the air" or something to that effect. It remains sequestered in a dark corner of my room. Its sort of box shaped. The stem supports are drying and getting lighter, but some have broken even before "feeling" the wind. The splints used to correct this don't look too encouraging. Overall, it has the look of a kite that has been flown for too many seasons- sort of like its maker. The kids here refer to their kites as the Zambian Air Lines.
We've just completed a full week of Ithaca weather, overcast and rainy. My laundry doesn't dry in time to be worn, getting to work with dry feet is a rare blessing, never mind the mud.
Improvements to the school yard should reduce the mud in the class rooms and make it look nicer and feel cooler in the hot season. The space between the wings of the school now have concrete walkways with grassy areas in between.
You lawn builders of the northern hemisphere might enjoy seeing how its done here. No seed, no fertilizer, no mower, almost no tools. The soil is worked up with a maddock. No smoothing the area with a rake, the rain does that. Rows of grass plants are placed in rows about 9 inches a part. It looks very much like short quack grass. Once in place a thin strip of rich-looking, black soil is put down in a narrow along the grass rows. The grass will spread to make a lawn.

Doing remedial math drills can be mind numbing for the students and the teacher. A few minutes of this can make me forget my times tables. Anything for some variety. We get so involved in memorization that we miss some connections.
This week we tool a break, sort of, from multiplication and did some simple division. Most knew that 10 divided by 2 = 5. But then had trouble with 10 divided by 2, even using hands and fingers. By repeatedly doing this and similar problems, one by one they each had an "ah-ha" moment and the right answers. We would conclud each problem as the above example with the multiplication equivalent: 5 x 2 = 10 and 2 x 5 = 10. Any of you have problems following this, I'll see you when i get home. Its nice to have a group of kids smiling together at what they 've learned.
Other incidents are for the teacher's smiles only. I have joked that some of the "finger-counting" math students might like to use their toes for bigger calculations. The other day because of the mud, some removed their shoes to keep from tracking in and sure enough one child was bent over, fingers wide-spread and counting toes! Definity not a time to offer the kid a "hand". I have threatened to make them wear mittens during tests and during drills we sometimes sit on out hands.

I had some late night visitors on Thursday, they slipped passed the our guards and seemed to head right for my house. Once there, they made sufficient noise to wake me. The sound seemed to fill the whole clinic as if it were the source of the noise.
It was an owl, a pair of Spotted Eagle-Owls (ID'ed by their vocalizations). Besides their calls, the males talons made a loud scratching sound on the metal roof. His calls were answered by his shyer mate who stayed some distance away. He may have been using our security light as an aid to hunting.
These birds, Bubo africanus, are listed as "common" in this area. However, these were anything but common birds! They had come to visit me.

Why dis I come to Zambia and why did I return? Have not answered that question to anyones safisfaction including my own. "That should be exciting" some offered. Well excitement by the month aint all its cracked up to be, especially at my age. I have really tried and failed to be excited by months of hand laundry. Its easier to get excited about wearing dirty clothes! And I really don't like to travel for much more than a day.
Perhaps its only fitting and fair that someone who spent so many years "giving UU's the opportunity" to do things they really didn't want to do, should be exiled to darkest Africa for a time, but not twice.
I am somewhat partial to the explaination of Garrison K. (can't spell his name) of P. H. Companion, who tell us that those folks who keep the church going by doing things such as serving on those thankless committees year after year, are not the best people in your organization. No, just the oppositie. They are the ones who are working off their guilt as best they can. I know about that. And don't tell me UU's don't believe in guilt, they may not believe in it but that doesn't stop they from living it. Yet I trust I am not just on an extended guilt trip at your expense.
Been reading Bill Moyers' 'Moyers on America'. He tells of his last TV conversation with Joseph Campbell who was dealing with the "requirement in the human psyche for centering in terms of deep principles."
"You're talking about a search for the meaning of life." Moyers said.
"No, no, no," J. C. answered, "I'm talking about the experience of being alive!" he explained. "People say thats what we're all seeking is a meaning for life.... I think that what we're seeking is the experience of being alive.... so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive."

A few lines from Tennyson's poem, Ulysses, follows:
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life.

Blog pressing (and trying to deal with the rust) out of Africa,
Sam

The week(s) that was.

2009-03-14T02:21:00.000-07:00

Update on Margaret: We continued our work for a couple mornings. Kept her up to speed, she hasn't lost any ground. I have better learned the length of her attention span and when learning has come to an end.

Thursday, March 12th is Youth Day and a Zambian National holiday. What did some of our students do? Well NONE of them veged out on a couch in front of a TV or played computer games all day, NO. One team of 7, mixed ages spent most of the day painting the exterior of the clinic. With their "Tom Sawyer" enthusiasm, they tried (unsuccessfully) to enlist my help. Uncle Phillip was there to get them started and then left to attend his list of must do's. The kids with no further supervision and only a few encouraging words (Good job; or Looking good.) from Uncle Sam, kept at it through a hot day until about 3:30 and then cleaned up their brushes, rollers and work site. Throughout the whole time I heard not one word of anger, nor anyone hollering at another as to what they needed to be doing or to stop goofing off. Did hear some delightful singing and the monotonous (to my ear) drone of mostly electronic teenage (noise) music.

They had worked dilegently without the best equipment, an old heavy homemade ladder, for example, hard for me to move.

And finally, they did a wonderful job, no paint spills, very little splattering, no trampled flowerbeds. If you have any painting to be done, I reccommend them hightly. My only complaint: its hard for me to have a lazy day with all that good work going on just the other side of the wall. Other crews did the exteriors of two more houses and the interior of another.

Gardens pretty much surround the clinic. We have tomatoes which have gotten high enough to be tired up to overhead wires. Other tomatoes are about a foot high, which will come on later. Sweet potatoes and cabbage and maize is/are most of the sceenery from my windows. (for you damn Eng. majors)

You needn't think that you have a monopoly on winter activities. Why just the other day at the Arcades shopping mall at temperatures hovering around 80 F, well folks (not many) were skating. They were wearing hockey skates, perhaps Cornell is looking outside Canada? Notice I didn't say ICE skating. A 6 X 6m area was enclosed by metal rail (fence) and covered with heavy rubber mat covered in a white (not reminicent of ice) tough plastic. I didn't feel compelled to try it. Perhaps if they'd had figure skates.

Have had some cultural adaptation problems dealing with special care and compliments. Special care, specifically desserts, or better called 'after dinner treats'. After finishing a large Zambian meal, you are fairly stuffed with maize and not wanting anything more at least of the veg. catagory. But to show their appreciation of your just being here, before you can get away, out comes for examples: 1) a cob of boiled maize which most resembles field corn, I know this since I have eaten my share or what I thought was my share of field corn. It is served warm or cold sans butter, or anything else that might redeem it. You try to come up with the words to counter this 'gift' but their expectant faces foil your best attempt. Generosity overwhelms me and I look for anyone with whom I might share. 2. Or a medium sized boiled squash, halved. Fortunately they don't mind your throwing the seeed away. Again generousity is my only way through this. They call it in English a small pumpkin or in nyanja, mponda. 3. the other night after supper, thinking I was free of food, I was reading to the children when quietly without a word, there appeared in front of me a cup of steaming milk, tea bags, a bread and butter sandwich and a bowl of sugar. No one wanted to share! I hope that if you have dessert, that you can enjoy it to the FULLEST, as I do.

Finally, even though I am losing weight, the Zambians have a strange (to us)compliment when they haven't seen you for a time "Oh, you've gained weight." This goes back to when only the rich and well to do where able to put on weight. Perhaps its similar to things that I have said, "You're looking fat and happy!" which really doesn't refer to what one weighs. I asked Phillip if the compliment was any more common with the AIDs epidemic, AIDS here was called the 'wasting disease' before being "discovered" by modern science. "Interesting qestion." was his response.

Interesting questions are always more consuming than an answer.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

Margaret and the alphabet

2009-03-07T03:16:00.000-08:00

I got to work with Margaret and Webster (came in a group of 5 students) yesterday, Friday morning. I got the 3 others working together with multiplication flash cards and blackboard work while I concentrated on Margaret and Webster.

Lets try something different. Using 3x5 cards, I made simple alphabet flash cards starting with "a" and going through the letter "h". Not setting our goals too high. Margaret had never gotten though "e" on our attempts to master the alphabet while working at the blackboard. We started slowly in alphabetic order and then jumbled them. For a time Webster was definitely ahead at naming the letters and giving an example of a word that started with that letter. But at some point I sensed a shift as Margaret began to hold her own and then slowly take the lead, we were past the letter "e" and flying. She was sounding more confident and less tentative. I needed to add more cards. Soon we were half way through the alphabet with the teacher fairly gushing with praise and approval. Something neither student had heard much of except in math.

We took a break and went to the board where they would write the letters as I called them out. That went well with Margaret still in the lead, most often he was checking on her answer before writing his own. We wrote our names and named the letters in them.

When asked, they opted to go back to the cards. We finished the alphabet pretty much, still having problems with "v", "u" and "y". They were flagging, so we went back to the board and were actually doing some spelling of words.

What a wonderful session, Webster and Margaret looked the happiest I'd seen them, not that vacant, puzzled stare they would have much of the time in class. Even the other 3 girls had refrained from fighting over their cards and chalk. I got their disapproval when I gave M. and W. a rub (eraser top) for their pencils as a reward, while they got nothing.

I remembered with some shame the previous feelings of anger that these kids were not responding as I thought they should to the best that I could give, when they had not been able to grasp what I was about. A teacher without patience is not a teacher.

But with all this a terrible realization hit me. This couldn't be a worse time for this to have happened. This was Friday preceding a week's vacation. It would be at least 10 days before we could review this again. All this would be forgotten by then. I am reminded daily of how much forgetting is involved in learning. Well, at least I learned that they could learn it.

Later I shared my experience with Ms. Mwanza who reminded me that Margaret is a resident and that I could work with her as much as I wished during the week ahead. Here I had been wondering what I was going to do. So I talked to the mother in her house and said I would be visiting at 9 am for a session each day with Margaret.

Many folks here and at home have had the idea that I came here mostly to teach Zambian children things like math, English, Science, etc. However some here have a completely different idea of why I am here. Many of the children seem to think (especially after supper) that I have come for them to teach me Nyanja. So my lessions have gotten pretty heavy, esp. the last few evenings. And just as my younger students, I forget much of what I'd "learned" the night before. I used to accuse them of "giving me lession" only to have a chance to laugh at me. But lately they have become more serious. It gets intense when you have 3 or 4 young teachers all instructing at once and trying to correct my pronounciation. But this all ends when one of them askes me to say the word for "witch". None can ever keep a straight face when I make a stab at "freetzee" and everyone desolves in laughter and I sneek towards the door and make my escape. Last night however, I was accompanied all the way home by no less than 4 screeching, very scary witches.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

Blogging in March

2009-03-01T01:54:00.000-08:00

This weeks was working with a small class doing remedial work and found that one child could not recognize the letters of the alphabet. Was able this time to set the others on a project giving me time with Margaret. We worked for most of the period on the first five letters, writing them and saying their names and then trying to identify them. We seemed to be making progress and had fallen into a routine that was giving her, I thought, some confidence. But then the period ended. I mentioned to her teacher what I had done and if she had others, I had a free period when I was available.

Next time Margaret and Webster came, just the two. We worked together, Webster was moving along and making good progress. Margaret seemed worse than when we first started. Got Webster to where he could work by himself without a lot of help and concentrated on Margaret again. By the end of the period, I was convinced that Margaret had problems identifying letter symbols. So I tried numbers and she had no problems what so ever. I have not given up on Margaret, not really sure as to how to continue.

We start with 'a' and say the letter and write the letter and repeat, several times. She now id's 'a' with no problem. Next we do 'b' and she has no problems, 'c' the same. About the time we get to 'd', we do a little review starting with 'a'. The real problem each time come with the letter 'e'. Which she most often calls 'g'. Came to me that a poorly written g and e can look similar if you reverse them laterally. Anyway, no amount of repetition of saying/writing seems to cement it in her memory. She can write her name, so since it contains an 'e' I thought maybe we can learn it, by learning the names of the letters in her name. Didn't work. So I am low on ideas and open to suggestions. Not sure if this blog has response capabilities. My email address is samuuman@yahoo.com. Thanks for your help.

Did a special class of 7th Grade on Charles Darwin/Evolution and 200th ann. of his birth, 150th ann. of his "On the Origins of Species". Very handy was the Sci. American purchased in Ithaca Airport just before leaving. That seems a long time and way away.

In science class were dissected a flower and identified and labeled the parts. It was not easy to find suitable local flowers for the class. Current local flowers are small or large composites. But my eye wondered to our garden flowers... There were large, 7 inch long white funnel-shaped blossoms in some numbers (I needed 24). Discreat inquires seemed to indicate that no one felt 'close' to them or might even notice they were missing. They worked wonderfully, easy to take apart and the parts were easy to see and draw. Kathe had told me they were Moonflowers, ala Georgia Okeeffe. The only problem is that I told the kids that a blossom should tell us something about the pollinators since that is partly what they are for. None asked me about this particular flower, but I have wondered. White, heavy sweet odor, could it be night blooming and bat pollination? Couldn't determine time of blossoming, blossoms were there in all stages. Moonflowers are supposed to be vine like plants, ours are low bushes and the flowers are at ground level, some are even on the ground and partially eatten by the ants(??). Any help out there, see email address above.

On trips into town one always sees many pedestrian carrying things, not always what you might expect. Large pieces of furniture are walking into Lusaka. From a distance they look much like Disney characters from Beauty and the Beast. A large bookcase seems to have its own legs as it is braced against someone's back. Yesterday, I was surprised to see a large bed rolling sideways down the edge of the road. As we drew near, I could see it was balance across a wheelbarrow. One would think that car-furniture accidents would be common. Saturday we witnessed a car-bicycle accident, almost no damage to the rider, wouldn't have given much for the bike.

Last night after dinner, I was persuaded to stay for Zambia-Tanzania Soccer match on TV. However, Zambian TV uses ads to fill in the space between broadcasts. They don't have many ads so after what seemed like a half hour of the same 3 ads over and over, I opted to go home and to bed. About 11 pm a loud cheer went up from all six houses. Took me a few seconds to figure out the source and reason for the sound. The outcome of the soccer match must have been good for Zambian.

It may be football to you, but its soccer to me. Anyone remember Laugh-In?
Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

What's happenin'

2009-02-21T01:13:00.000-08:00

Writers' Club

Leo seems to have made me a special friend. He is one of the slower and older boys. Communication with him is difficult, seems to understand very little. Early on in class he was ignoring all that was going on, completely absorbed in a note of multi-folded paper. Since he doesn't read well, I wondered at his deliberation as I confiscated the missive and put it on my desk. This caused him some visible distress. Towards the end of the day, the note was still there, I called Leo in and returned it, saying he can have notes, but shouldn't read them during class. This oddly enough seemed to make him my friend and he'd go out of his way to pass by and greet me in the morning or on the playground.

Next thing I know, he'd joined the Writers' Club, one of the least communicative kids in the school. Well teachers wouldn't be teachers if they didn't believe in miracles. A few day ago, in class I was trying to extend Leo's attention span, finally went up to his desk, while speaking to him, he seemed to nod off. His response was of someone sleep deprived. I checked with other teachers and Ms. Mwanza, alerted them but we know almost nothing of his home life.

Next Writers' Club we were reporting on our assignment, an outline for our first story. Most of the boys had stories of a boy meets girl variety. We get to Leo's: A man comes home and beats his wife. She responds, "No problem."

How much of Leo's story is actually 'his story'?

Immigration Office (an obligatory story of anyone extending their visa in Zambia, I know I did one on my last visit here, sorry)

To keep one from getting bogged down in their problems, the Imm. Off. has a specail program called Visa Extension. You must drop whatever positive work you might be doing and go in person to get in line, sign in and then face a bewildering array of desks numbered from 1 to 16. This is completely different from my last visit. Do you do the desks in order, or just pick your lucky number? I knew this was my "shake down visit" where I'd learn everything I done wrong and what I must do on my next visit to be successful. I took careful notes this Friday afternoon. On Monday I gathered all the needed items, photos, xerox pass port pages, letters with proper letterhead and signatures and finally a bank check for the amount of the fee. With high hopes I presented the fruits of my labors (labours) on Monday. HA!! The bank check which I had gotten at some time and effort was correct for the fixed fee quoted on Friday, but was not even close to the Monday's fee. The only good news was that it was less. Rush back to the bank (45 min one way) wait in another line, explain the error, get yet another check while they decide what to do with the last one, back through the afternoon traffic while my stomach reminds me of no lunch, and arrive before the Imm. Off. closed. A Hollywood Movie finish, except that the Cashiers Office closes 1/2 before the rest, it being closed, there was no one to give the money too.

Since it seemed that the last step was to pay, Philip decides he can do that tomorrow on his own while I get back to teaching. Just before lunch (which would have been sausage and nshima) the driver hands me a note from Philip explaining that they took the check, but my face must be there for the final stamping of my pass port. Rush out, get to the office to find that I have just made it for their afternoon break. Finally get in and find a desk with no line. I am offerred a seat while the man at the desk goes through a tall stack of papers. After he complete about five, he kindly lets me know that this will be the last, before he gets to me. A short story later and he stamps my pass port. "When do I return?" I ask. Next month. I can hardly wait.

New Generator

A new large, heavy (2 tons) generator arrived yesterday. It is automatic, turns on at power outages and off when electricity returns. It is powerful enough to run our stoves, hot water heaters, etc. But,( there is alway a but) it needs to be moved to a yet to be poured concrete pad and then hooked up to our system. When? who knows.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

Life and Death

2009-02-15T01:11:00.000-08:00

Most happy to announce the arrival of Shabach Mvula. (Philip & Maria's) Long awaited, assisted finally by a doctor and cesarian delivery. Both parents are recovering rapidly. Certainly hard on the mother. But I was most aware of the toll it took on the father, who in Zambia is kept at a good distance both physically and informationally.

Hospital staff are not open nor forthcoming regarding the status of ones spouse. Briefest of info offerred at long intervals. An expectant father lives via his cell phone waiting for THE call, but instead he is sharing his lack of current knowledge with innumerable friends who call for updates, only to be told, "No word yet." It took three days before we got the positive news.

On a completely opposite note, the father of one of our teachers died and to show our respects, faculty divided in half each going on consecutive days. The first group visited outside the home (house remains empty until after the burial) with family, friends and relatives. Meanwhile back at the school I was left with the 3rd grade class for a couple of hours at the end of the day. They had their assignment to finish their drawings of the "food groups" they had studied in science and then each was to select a story book and read it to the class. The drawing went fairly well with minor clashes over the least available color of crayons and the very slow student who was more intent on hording crayons than finishing his work.

Third graders have a hard time making decissions, especially those having to do with earth-shattering importance: which book will I read in front of the class? A few quickly grabbed the one they wanted, others though could not be satisfied, every book had to be inspected, then tossed aside. Several of this sort make the problem more acute. Finally the subsitute-teacher had to step in and decide for the last ones.

This is not the way I would have chosen to spend one of the hottest afternoons we've had. The readers were shy and seemed to know that if they spoke softly (mumbled) they might finesse the hard words.

The listeners couldn't hear enough to hold their attention. I got one of the better students to assist the "reader" while I tried to keep some decorum. But order slowly melted away in the heat like ice cream at a 4th of July picnic. I got to abreiviating the stories to a couple pages, finally the last student tried to read a story way beyond his skill level. I beleive there is a process in physics which describes going from order to chaos, need not review that here.

Suffice to say that it is sad when an old would-be sub teacher is defeated by a class of third graders. Doesn't leave much self-esteem. Yet I know, had it been filmed, it would be classic comedy. Took longer to unwind that evening.

Next day was my turn and we went to the funeral and grave site for the burial. The church was packed. The deceased was 78 with 11 children. We stood outside the church in a hint of shade. From there we drove to the cemetery. The intense African sun encourage me to take my hat. "No hats at a funeral" said Philip with some authority. Thinking this would not take long, I went bare headed.

Beside the grave was the usual piles of dirt but also freshly mixed cement. The casket was lowered and some dirt followed. Then the cement and finally the remainder of the dirt. By standers helped the two-man cemetery crew with this work. When all the dirt was used up, more had to be acquired near by to nicely round off the grave with a mound a couple of feet high. The minister spoke a few words and then folks moved off. It took about 45 min. Philip explained the cement was to discourage the coffin robbers. They can be resold as new, there being no used-coffin market.

We returned to school, I had to wait for one class period to end the day and run home to my aloe for a tender head.

A-peelingly yours,
Sam

More from Zambia

2009-02-07T01:03:00.000-08:00

Blogging just now is difficult and this time its not the computer's fault. Just as I am starting this at this email cafe, just outside has started some very loud singing, dancing, drumming, but I must keep my back to it and blog on...

I have a new friend at school. A second grader named Julius Zulu. Bright open face, always with a smile or that bright, expectant look as if I was about to do something wonderful. He started by greeting me on the playground (not unusual) but he isn't just passing by like the other children. He stands there. So we discuss the weather and what he is learning and what subjects he likes best.

His next appearances have been in my classroom while I am working by myself and the students are suppose to be outside. "I want to learn math" he says with some enthusiam. What teacher can say no to that? Only once I put him off, just long enough to go get my lunch and return, not eating with the other teachers as I usually would.

We do drill exercises in addition and subtraction. He is not a finger counter, that habit that keeps most Zambia children very slow. With those kids, I insist that they sit on their hands when we drill, fast enough that there is not time to count.

Lately Julius has brough a couple of his friends, two or three. If there is not time for math, he askes me for a story, just now its a specific story, "The man whose house was too small". Once in class I was caught without a storybook, so I told a story, rather than read. Thank you UURE folks for providing me with good material, wish I had paid more attention. The first story was a Jewish tale about a man whose house was too small and went to his rabbi. Well here it was about a man who went to the village and got help from the chief or wiseman. He gets the help he needs, the house doesn't change, but the man's perception of his house. Fun to discuss what happens with the children. Anyway, its seems that is the favorite of today and there it usually not time to tell it with voices and actions which a good African story deserves, so Julius, remember Julius, well he'll be back again. If only all my interactions with children were this positive....

One day this week, I was sitting in the lunchroom eating my rice and sour milk. I was on one of those short chairs for preschoolers, had my back to the door. I turned when someone entered and because of my deminished height, I was eye-to-eye with a strange (not seen her before) little girl. She was wide-eyed with surprize. So I greeted her silently by mimicking her experssion. Not good. Fear quickly spread across her face. I looked away, coverd my face, but a few seconds later, I could hear her crying.

I had heard the face of an old muzungu can make children cry. Some Zambian parents, I am told use just the thought of one to make their children behave. "The big, bad muzungu will get you!" Well I got this one and there was nothing I could do.

Blog pressing out of Africa with the drums still throbbing behind me,
Sam

I am still here in Ithaca

2009-01-10T08:27:00.000-08:00

No, I an not greeting you from Zambia, I am still stuck here in the snow and cold temps. Due to mechanical failure at one air port and weather at another, it was just not meant to be, BUT thanks to Louise, I have got my blog up and running. Much more interesting things to follow.

Sam