Now that I am settling to what is to be my new normal, I thought you may or may not find it interesting to see what a typical week might look like for me here in Lusaka. I will start out with a Saturday, since last Saturday is not one I will soon forget.
Saturday
Saturday was one of those days that you decide, even before you open your eyes, that you will snuggle up with a fluffy book, and listen to the rain from the coziness of yo
ur warm bed. Unfortunately, it happened to be one of those (hopefully) rare weekend community training days. Yes, Anne and I had to dress up and trudge down the muddy path to the office, load crates of soft drinks using a tiny umbrella, jar over horribly bumpy and flooded streets and spend all day in a damp church fellowship hall. Not overly cheerful, we had to cram our usual weekend chores into the few hours remaining in our evening. I started making the tomato cucumber salad for the next day’s lunch and Anne started the laundry. I had moved on to the chocolate brownie trifle when I heard the sound of rushing water. In that moment, our kitchen sink (which the washing machine flows into) decided to drain d
irectly onto the kitchen floor instead of using the pipes. I shouted for a bucket, but only one we had was woefully insufficient and had to run around the flat collecting every trashcan, etc. in the place that could possibly hold water. The next 20 minutes we became a bucket brigade, switching the washing machine hoseSaturday was one of those days that you decide, even before you open your eyes, that you will from bucket to bucket, and running them upstairs to the bathtub in between. After dropping exhausted into bed, I thought that the “honeymoon” just might be over!
ur warm bed. Unfortunately, it happened to be one of those (hopefully) rare weekend community training days. Yes, Anne and I had to dress up and trudge down the muddy path to the office, load crates of soft drinks using a tiny umbrella, jar over horribly bumpy and flooded streets and spend all day in a damp church fellowship hall. Not overly cheerful, we had to cram our usual weekend chores into the few hours remaining in our evening. I started making the tomato cucumber salad for the next day’s lunch and Anne started the laundry. I had moved on to the chocolate brownie trifle when I heard the sound of rushing water. In that moment, our kitchen sink (which the washing machine flows into) decided to drain d
irectly onto the kitchen floor instead of using the pipes. I shouted for a bucket, but only one we had was woefully insufficient and had to run around the flat collecting every trashcan, etc. in the place that could possibly hold water. The next 20 minutes we became a bucket brigade, switching the washing machine hoseSaturday was one of those days that you decide, even before you open your eyes, that you will from bucket to bucket, and running them upstairs to the bathtub in between. After dropping exhausted into bed, I thought that the “honeymoon” just might be over!Sunday
Sunday was a much better day. The weather had not improved much, but at least we spent the day away from our troubled kitchen, doing what we wanted to do. After church, we went to a couple’s house for a braai (known in the States as a "cookout") with several other people. The grilled chicken, burgers, and lively conversation were just what we needed after our hectic evening. We got dropped off at the office for some quick email checking and calls home and then went on to Bible study. Arriving home by 7pm meant we got to indulge in the cosy book-reading we missed out on the day before.
Monday
Monday I called the landlord first thing. Much to our surprise, the plumber was able to come that same morning to scope out the problem! That meant I had to run back home to let him in and then run back for a meeting, but at least we were on track to get our kitchen in working order. After a nice meeting with the Field Office Director before she headed off to Washington DC for a special event, I tried to finish up as many things as possible since I would be out the next day. We ate pasta that night, trying to keep the dinner mess at a minimum since our sink was already piled with now kinda icky dishes that we had no way to wash. More reading and then bed.
Tuesday
Tuesday I took my first “Woman’s Day” since arriving here in Zambia. From what I best understand, one upon a time, it was decided that it would be best for everyone if woman just stayed at home during “certain times of the month”. From that concept comes the very nice
Zambian employment policy that every woman gets one day off each month, no questions asked. With the plumber due, this day came in quite handy. So instead of rushing off to work that morning, I took my time getting up, dressed, and fed. I spend some time trying to arrange the dirty dishes so they didn’t appear quite so disgusting when the plumber arrived. Then I headed out for my first trip to the “Tuesday Market” with a dear lady, Lindy, who has been in Zambia for decades as a missionary and who has been showing me the ropes. The Zambian market is like a very crowded and caotic farmers market. The venders are arranged in very narrow rows with their wares spread out on the floor around them. There are hundreds of people also pushing their way through and haggling over prices as they go. It was all 
pretty intimidating and I don’t know how successful I would have been without Lindy by my side. I left loaded down with tomatoes, corn, peppers, zucchini, cilantro, and much more. After putting away my produce, I settled down to wait for the plumber to arrive, which took a while. In the mean time I measured my windows and several other things for future projects after realizing I had taken my first set of measurements in inches instead of centimeters. I made my grocery lists. I wrote out some postcards… Finally, the plumber came. I had to stay close at hand so that I could supply the various things he needed such as a mop, bucket, rags, etc. When he was all done, it turned out that a little rubber cement was all it took to fix the problem. (?) Once I felt it was dry enough, I washed the dishes, did my laundry, and made a pot of very nice “Roasted Tomato Soup” which we had for dinner along with some fresh biscuits. Woman’s Day was getting Zambia back into my good graces. ☺Wednesday
Wednesday was taken up with an all day workshop. This time I got to be a participant instead of the trainer. The seminar on advocacy was held in the Intercontinental Hotel, which was quite a treat. By this time, the weather had turned absolutely perfect. We
got to have an ample buffet lunch in the hotel’s beautiful pool-side courtyard. How I would have loved to lounge by the pool, book in hand, soaking in the sunshine like a true lady of luxury! But it was back to the training I went. After the training we hit the grocery store for some hectic rush-hour shopping. It was worth battling the crowds, because we found chocolate chips! (Their spot on the shelf had been empty since I got to Zambia!) Fortunately, we were still digesting our ample lunch and no dinner was needed. Instead, Anne and I pulled out the measuring tape, fishing line and stick-on hooks and hung hats and purses on the wall of our living room. It looks great (and not too girly) despite how it sounds.
got to have an ample buffet lunch in the hotel’s beautiful pool-side courtyard. How I would have loved to lounge by the pool, book in hand, soaking in the sunshine like a true lady of luxury! But it was back to the training I went. After the training we hit the grocery store for some hectic rush-hour shopping. It was worth battling the crowds, because we found chocolate chips! (Their spot on the shelf had been empty since I got to Zambia!) Fortunately, we were still digesting our ample lunch and no dinner was needed. Instead, Anne and I pulled out the measuring tape, fishing line and stick-on hooks and hung hats and purses on the wall of our living room. It looks great (and not too girly) despite how it sounds.Thursday
Thursday I spent all morning trying to track down prices for the media budget I am putting together. In Zambia, there is no such thing as “looking on the website” or even calling and having prices faxed or emailed to you. You have to go to each place, in person, and explain what you want and get a handwritten quote. Talk about time consuming! I ran back to the flat during lunch to make a batch of the famous “Larios Brothers Salsa” (which I haven’t eaten yet due to the lack of tortilla chips in Zambia) and then spent the afternoon finalizing the media budget. I made a quick call to my friend Elise back in the US (great talking to you Elise!) and then headed home. I decided to put my produce to good use by making a great big pot of “Garden Vegetable Soup”. It’s a good thing that it made a big pot, because it took me several hours!
Friday
Friday started out with a meeting with a police trainer from the U.S. Embassy. I will be helping out with a special police training manual that our office is collaborating on with the Embassy. Then, I headed over the Zambian Immigration Office to check how my temporary resident permit was coming along. Just as I was beginning to get bewildered, Lindy showed up with a new missionary and walked me through what I needed to do. It turns out that my temporary
permit was ready and was granted for the whole length of my stay! That is a great blessing since I have heard horror stories of others who had their permits repeatedly delayed or who were granted only a few weeks at a time. We left the office promptly at 5pm in anticipation of a new activity we had heard about the previous Sunday. The neighborhood playhouse (which seems to only have productions two nights a month) offers aerobics! I am sure we were quite the sight – clueless and clumsy! But it was actually kind of fun. Since we still had plenty of veggie soup left, I made chocolate chip cookies after taking a cold shower. (Did I mention that our hot water heater decided to stop working, but not until after the plumber had come and gone?)And so, I am sitting in my flat, snacking on warm chocolate chip cookies and “long life” milk, listening to the sounds of street traffic, crickets, and the neighborhood club, and typing a nice long blog post. Maybe the honeymoon isn’t quite over yet. ☺ Leia Mais…
International baking is something I haven’t done since Moscow ‘98. I was afraid that this entry would end up being entitled "Pride Cometh Before A Fall". Baking skills don't necessarily translate from continent to continent. It is said to be a science (though I don’t understand it very well) and when it comes to ingredients, the types, quality, and substitutions you encounter can make a “world” of difference in determining success and failure.
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