Sunday is my day off so I usually try to do something to make it different to the rest of the week. This is a particularly appropriate style of life for a Christian, enjoying myself on the Lord's Day, celebrating some of the good things the Lord has given me.
Lusaka is where I usually go as there are more opportunities there. I live in Chilanga, a small town about 15km away from the capital, Lusaka, and the possibilities locally are limited to Munda Wanga, the wildlife park, which I'm keeping in reserve for another Sunday....coming up later in this blog!
This Sunday morning dawned sunny and warm so I headed off to St Ignatius' Church for Mass with my swimsuit and camping towel in my backpack. This involved a (mini)bus ride to the infamous Kalima Tower bus station followed by a half hour walk guided by my extremely useful street map.
After Mass, I followed my trusty map to the Sports grounds and found the pool. No one was in the office at the entry so I went on in, undressed and went up as directed by the painted sign to the poolside. The pool, 50 metres by 25 metres, gleamed in the warm sun as invitingly as I've ever been gleamed at by a stretch of water. Walking , as instructed by another sign, through the (dry) footbath, I dived in to the deep end and found the reality fully lived up to my expectations. The water, initially cool on my skin was refreshing without being chilly and very fresh and clean. Swimming peacefully, I realised there was a false note in this blissful scenario which was the paucity of other swimmers, a mere half dozen in this huge expanse. OK, the paths round the pool and the seats for spectators were dilapidated and the diving boards removed from the frames but the grass surrounds were trimmed, there was no rubbish, the tall acacia and baobab trees made a lush green background and dragonflies were dancing over and sipping from the clear water. This municipal pool seems to be Lusaka's best-kept secret; at 10/5 kwacha for an adult/child (the equivalent of about £1.20/60p) it has to be within the purse of many Zambians who I know spend considerably more to go to pools in hotels and 'Water Fun Parks' with flumes, slides etc. Maybe some advertising? Or maybe it can be kept as our secret?
Sunday, 27 January 2013
Wednesday, 23 January 2013
Zambian holidays
My Zambian colleagues seem to take a month's leave in a year, either in one piece or in bits here and there; this particularly for the Clinical officer who acts as a doctor at the clinics. and has no backup whereas there are, for example four nurses who can cover for each other.
I don't think my local colleagues go away on holiday as a time of rest and recreation; they are more likely to take the opportunity to visit distant family, catch up with a home job like planting maize or work on their house. Transport is expensive here over large distances and staying away from home very pricey unless with friends or family.
There are some great holiday venues in Zambia though and my co-volunteer has currently gone to visit the Mosi oa Tunya (local name meaning 'The smoke that thunders' aka Victoria Falls) with a friend visiting from Ireland. They are staying at the Maramba River Lodge, situated between Livingstone Town and the Falls. The first time I visited the Falls, in 1998, my daughter was with me and her research into a good place to stay turned up Maramba. Since then, I have frequently stayed there with a variety of visitors and found it a perfect little haven. It consists of : brick and thatch rondavels, each en suite; in the centre, a small rocky swimming pool, bar and restaurant. There are several walks nearby, including to the Maramba River, a small tributary joining the great Zambezi at the stage of heading for the spectacular 500m drop, the centre and purpose of this area. Once, driving in to Maramba with an English friend desperate to see 'at least one elephant' we were amazed to find about twenty large elephants rampaging round the site, ripping at the trees, trampling and eating plants, lurching alarmingly round the parked vehicles. After a while, many photos later, the staff picked up metal bins and sticks and noisily ushered the elephants back into the bush. This was a good reminder to us that we were living in the bush and to stay in our rondevels at night, not only to avoid a possible close encounter with an elephant but to avoid snakes and hippos and keep monkeys out of our cabins- they too can be destructive.
I don't think my local colleagues go away on holiday as a time of rest and recreation; they are more likely to take the opportunity to visit distant family, catch up with a home job like planting maize or work on their house. Transport is expensive here over large distances and staying away from home very pricey unless with friends or family.
There are some great holiday venues in Zambia though and my co-volunteer has currently gone to visit the Mosi oa Tunya (local name meaning 'The smoke that thunders' aka Victoria Falls) with a friend visiting from Ireland. They are staying at the Maramba River Lodge, situated between Livingstone Town and the Falls. The first time I visited the Falls, in 1998, my daughter was with me and her research into a good place to stay turned up Maramba. Since then, I have frequently stayed there with a variety of visitors and found it a perfect little haven. It consists of : brick and thatch rondavels, each en suite; in the centre, a small rocky swimming pool, bar and restaurant. There are several walks nearby, including to the Maramba River, a small tributary joining the great Zambezi at the stage of heading for the spectacular 500m drop, the centre and purpose of this area. Once, driving in to Maramba with an English friend desperate to see 'at least one elephant' we were amazed to find about twenty large elephants rampaging round the site, ripping at the trees, trampling and eating plants, lurching alarmingly round the parked vehicles. After a while, many photos later, the staff picked up metal bins and sticks and noisily ushered the elephants back into the bush. This was a good reminder to us that we were living in the bush and to stay in our rondevels at night, not only to avoid a possible close encounter with an elephant but to avoid snakes and hippos and keep monkeys out of our cabins- they too can be destructive.
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
A perception of the development of an HIV+ life in Zambia
I'm sure that regular readers of this blog are well aware by now of the fact that I am working in Zambia as a counsellor at a
hospice run by a missionary order of nuns.
The hospice in-patient unit is temporarily closed due to financial constraints so the work is running clinics for TB patients and those who are HIV+ and making home visits into the community, especially the poorer compounds, taking food to help those in need if the hospice has received donations from charitable companies and individuals.
I am frequently struck by the comparison between the way these people are now able to live compared with their fate in 2002, when I left Zambia.
Now, able to freely access the ARV (anti retro viral) drugs they need to live with their 'status', a typical HIV infected adult is likely to be at work (if they are lucky enough to find a job in this area and time of high unemployment), working on their allotments to provide food for their family or at home, or giving voluntary assistance to neighbour and family members who are sick or in difficulties.
HIV+ children growing up with the prospect of taking ARVs for the rest of their lives, seem to be developing well and doing well at school and college. Now adults can mostly look after their own children, a task which used to fall to the Ambuyes (grandparents) who, their own child-rearing days behind them, had to cope with a whole new generation of kids.
A much more cheerful picture than the one I left in 2002 to go back to England to be with my parents; when the best and only care on offer to those infected was fellowship, love and prayer, with a blanket, water and aspirin. In those dark days, many people were banished from their homes and villages as others were afraid of catching the virus by sharing a house with the positive ones.
So the pattern of care has changed from one which was basically palliative to one which supports the efforts of this increasingly large group of people to live a 'positive lifestyle', adhering carefully to the drug regime, taking as good care of themselves they can with a healthy diet, rest, relaxation and condom use for sexual intercourse even for a married couple who are both positive, to avoid re-infecting each other with a constantly evolving virus, slightly different in each re-infection.
And where next? With good management of the disease, people's life expectancy should not be effectively shortened by their HIV status; more and better strains of ARV drugs may become available (at the moment there are only 2 'lines' of drugs available so anyone unable to take some for any reason or reneging on their drug regime, can rapidly run out of options)
Fellowship, love and prayer, of course, never go out of fashion; these continue to be an important part of the mix of help available, much of which comes through the churches (CHAZ, the churches health association of Zambia, is a big player in the field of the prevention and mitigation of HIV and Aids in Zambia.
Praise God
The hospice in-patient unit is temporarily closed due to financial constraints so the work is running clinics for TB patients and those who are HIV+ and making home visits into the community, especially the poorer compounds, taking food to help those in need if the hospice has received donations from charitable companies and individuals.
I am frequently struck by the comparison between the way these people are now able to live compared with their fate in 2002, when I left Zambia.
Now, able to freely access the ARV (anti retro viral) drugs they need to live with their 'status', a typical HIV infected adult is likely to be at work (if they are lucky enough to find a job in this area and time of high unemployment), working on their allotments to provide food for their family or at home, or giving voluntary assistance to neighbour and family members who are sick or in difficulties.
HIV+ children growing up with the prospect of taking ARVs for the rest of their lives, seem to be developing well and doing well at school and college. Now adults can mostly look after their own children, a task which used to fall to the Ambuyes (grandparents) who, their own child-rearing days behind them, had to cope with a whole new generation of kids.
A much more cheerful picture than the one I left in 2002 to go back to England to be with my parents; when the best and only care on offer to those infected was fellowship, love and prayer, with a blanket, water and aspirin. In those dark days, many people were banished from their homes and villages as others were afraid of catching the virus by sharing a house with the positive ones.
So the pattern of care has changed from one which was basically palliative to one which supports the efforts of this increasingly large group of people to live a 'positive lifestyle', adhering carefully to the drug regime, taking as good care of themselves they can with a healthy diet, rest, relaxation and condom use for sexual intercourse even for a married couple who are both positive, to avoid re-infecting each other with a constantly evolving virus, slightly different in each re-infection.
And where next? With good management of the disease, people's life expectancy should not be effectively shortened by their HIV status; more and better strains of ARV drugs may become available (at the moment there are only 2 'lines' of drugs available so anyone unable to take some for any reason or reneging on their drug regime, can rapidly run out of options)
Fellowship, love and prayer, of course, never go out of fashion; these continue to be an important part of the mix of help available, much of which comes through the churches (CHAZ, the churches health association of Zambia, is a big player in the field of the prevention and mitigation of HIV and Aids in Zambia.
Praise God
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
Food, glorious food
Food preferences and habits can often be taken as indicators of nationality, culture and class.
In England, food boundaries are becoming blurred, especially in the takeaway sector, where the potential consumer is offered a wide range of styles and nationalities of food. This is sometimes only eaten in takeaway or restaurant form; rarely cooked at home and adopted as part of the family dishes, except of course, by those ethnic groups to whom that food 'belongs' or keen cooks and foodies, eager to add a new dish to their repertoire.
There's little difference here in Zambia, as witnessed by the variety of restaurants and takeaways in an up-market shopping mall such as Manda Hill, Arcades or Levy Junction. Indian, Asian, Chinese, Steak House, Pizza, Fried Chicken restaurants, many of whom are international brand names, jostle with ice cream parlours and cake and coffee bars..
Here though, there is maybe a bigger divide between the 'luxury' foods and the everyday meals eaten by most of the population.
At home, most people eat the national staple food, nshima, a stiff porridge made from mealie meal, served with 'relish' which could be any combination of vegetables, eggs, meat, or fish, my favourite being cibwawa, pumpkin leaves with pounded groundnuts.
Nshima doesn't seem to be served at Manda Hill, an interesting divide between the home foods and the restaurant and takeaway foods. Potatoes, rice and bread are sometimes eaten at home though the staple nshima is the 'food' without which a Zambian will say "I haven't eaten" despite having put away steak (usually referred to as T bone) with chips, vegetables, bread and ice cream!
Bon appetite
In England, food boundaries are becoming blurred, especially in the takeaway sector, where the potential consumer is offered a wide range of styles and nationalities of food. This is sometimes only eaten in takeaway or restaurant form; rarely cooked at home and adopted as part of the family dishes, except of course, by those ethnic groups to whom that food 'belongs' or keen cooks and foodies, eager to add a new dish to their repertoire.
There's little difference here in Zambia, as witnessed by the variety of restaurants and takeaways in an up-market shopping mall such as Manda Hill, Arcades or Levy Junction. Indian, Asian, Chinese, Steak House, Pizza, Fried Chicken restaurants, many of whom are international brand names, jostle with ice cream parlours and cake and coffee bars..
Here though, there is maybe a bigger divide between the 'luxury' foods and the everyday meals eaten by most of the population.
At home, most people eat the national staple food, nshima, a stiff porridge made from mealie meal, served with 'relish' which could be any combination of vegetables, eggs, meat, or fish, my favourite being cibwawa, pumpkin leaves with pounded groundnuts.
Nshima doesn't seem to be served at Manda Hill, an interesting divide between the home foods and the restaurant and takeaway foods. Potatoes, rice and bread are sometimes eaten at home though the staple nshima is the 'food' without which a Zambian will say "I haven't eaten" despite having put away steak (usually referred to as T bone) with chips, vegetables, bread and ice cream!
Bon appetite
Wednesday, 9 January 2013
using language!
Remember that old up-tight sexual innuendo comedy whose name I have mercifully forgotten but involved references to 'Percy filth' and 'using language'? In that, bad language was anything remotely sexual....imagine that in a modern comedy!
The official language of Zambia is English, chosen at Independence to avoid the tribal clashes that could follow the choice of one of the seven main Zambian languages as the national one. English is the language of government, law, business, journalism, education past the first grades of school ; anything that requires a Zambia-wide or international response.
On previous occasions when I worked in Zambia I was based in a college where English was an important part of the skills I was teaching. Staff were from different countries and parts of Zambia so communication was in English and it was easy to believe that it was actually the national language.
The local language in the Eastern Province of Zambia and Lusaka, the capital city, is Nyanja, closely related to Chewa, spoken in other African countries including Malawi.
Being trained professionals, the Zambian staff should have a reasonable grasp of their national tongue and most of them do, to varying levels of competence but are, of course, more comfortable speaking in Nyanja.
This effectively enables them to form a group closed to the bazungu (plural of mazungu, a Bantu word for white person, meaning literally 'confused person wandering about')
When a conversation resolutely stays in Nyanja though I'm sitting apparently in the group or switches when I enter a room, I could be forgiven for feeling rejected from this little community though the truth is more likely a feeling of privacy, a family thing. Difficult to feel part of this community as the language divide keeps us all in our proper places.
I wonder when I've used language to exclude or keep at arm's length? I feel sure I have: jargon, in-language, family jokes, literary or cultural allusions can be horribly effective in excluding. My experience of exclusion here has increased my awareness of how I treat others.
I shall long remember the sudden burst of laughter in a group to which I can only smile pleasantly, pleased at their amusement and hoping I'm not the cause of their good humour.
The official language of Zambia is English, chosen at Independence to avoid the tribal clashes that could follow the choice of one of the seven main Zambian languages as the national one. English is the language of government, law, business, journalism, education past the first grades of school ; anything that requires a Zambia-wide or international response.
On previous occasions when I worked in Zambia I was based in a college where English was an important part of the skills I was teaching. Staff were from different countries and parts of Zambia so communication was in English and it was easy to believe that it was actually the national language.
The local language in the Eastern Province of Zambia and Lusaka, the capital city, is Nyanja, closely related to Chewa, spoken in other African countries including Malawi.
Being trained professionals, the Zambian staff should have a reasonable grasp of their national tongue and most of them do, to varying levels of competence but are, of course, more comfortable speaking in Nyanja.
This effectively enables them to form a group closed to the bazungu (plural of mazungu, a Bantu word for white person, meaning literally 'confused person wandering about')
When a conversation resolutely stays in Nyanja though I'm sitting apparently in the group or switches when I enter a room, I could be forgiven for feeling rejected from this little community though the truth is more likely a feeling of privacy, a family thing. Difficult to feel part of this community as the language divide keeps us all in our proper places.
I wonder when I've used language to exclude or keep at arm's length? I feel sure I have: jargon, in-language, family jokes, literary or cultural allusions can be horribly effective in excluding. My experience of exclusion here has increased my awareness of how I treat others.
I shall long remember the sudden burst of laughter in a group to which I can only smile pleasantly, pleased at their amusement and hoping I'm not the cause of their good humour.
Thursday, 3 January 2013
What's in a name?
The Zambian Kwacha has been rebased but not revalued or devalued or renamed.
Since 1st January 2013, the rate has been reset so that what we used to call the 'pin' (effectively the basic currency rate for all but the tiniest transactions,1000 kwacha, equivalent to about 12p) has become the new kwacha.
Three zeros disappear with a sigh of relief so now we have about 8 ZKW to £1 instead of the previous exchange rate of around 8,000 ZMK to £1 or GBP in new-speak. Very logical and should lead to a much simpler system all round; the old and new kwacha peacefully co-existing until June by which time the old notes will have been removed from the system.
But this is Zambia where nothing is ever quite as it seems nor as simple as it should be so problems have arisen. The best seems to be when people pay using old kwacha (ZMK) and refuse to receive their change in new kwacha (ZKW) as they are thereby getting 'less kwacha' True, of course! But not in terms of, say bottles of Mosi beer, now available at a bargain price of ZKW 6 instead of last week's price of ZMK 6,000. it's all in the order of the letters from ZMK (ZaMbian Kwacha) to ZKW (Zambian KWacha)
And coins are now re-introduced: 1 kwacha and 5,10 and 50 ngwee (100 ngwee = 1 kwacha-that's new kwacha, of course, ZKW) In previous hard times, the depreciation of the kwacha (the old sort, ZMK) meant that the coins were worth more in terms of the metal they were made with than their exchange value and many excellent cooking pots came onto local markets.
I wonder if, by rebasing Shakespeare's words, 'a kwacha by any other name would smell as sweet' But he was wondering about floral perfumes and personal nomenclature and, anyway, a 'rose' would be a novel currency descriptor. 1 Rose = ZMK 1.000... Doesn't trip off the tongue like, for example, ngwee. So that's a 'no'. Meanwhile, those of us fortunate to have been millionnaires are now mere thousandaires and the days of being able to leave an ATM with a bit of an internal swagger as a freshly minted millionnaire are long gone. Now minted, that has currency overtones too 100 Mints = 1 Rose?
The fun continues!
Since 1st January 2013, the rate has been reset so that what we used to call the 'pin' (effectively the basic currency rate for all but the tiniest transactions,1000 kwacha, equivalent to about 12p) has become the new kwacha.
Three zeros disappear with a sigh of relief so now we have about 8 ZKW to £1 instead of the previous exchange rate of around 8,000 ZMK to £1 or GBP in new-speak. Very logical and should lead to a much simpler system all round; the old and new kwacha peacefully co-existing until June by which time the old notes will have been removed from the system.
But this is Zambia where nothing is ever quite as it seems nor as simple as it should be so problems have arisen. The best seems to be when people pay using old kwacha (ZMK) and refuse to receive their change in new kwacha (ZKW) as they are thereby getting 'less kwacha' True, of course! But not in terms of, say bottles of Mosi beer, now available at a bargain price of ZKW 6 instead of last week's price of ZMK 6,000. it's all in the order of the letters from ZMK (ZaMbian Kwacha) to ZKW (Zambian KWacha)
And coins are now re-introduced: 1 kwacha and 5,10 and 50 ngwee (100 ngwee = 1 kwacha-that's new kwacha, of course, ZKW) In previous hard times, the depreciation of the kwacha (the old sort, ZMK) meant that the coins were worth more in terms of the metal they were made with than their exchange value and many excellent cooking pots came onto local markets.
I wonder if, by rebasing Shakespeare's words, 'a kwacha by any other name would smell as sweet' But he was wondering about floral perfumes and personal nomenclature and, anyway, a 'rose' would be a novel currency descriptor. 1 Rose = ZMK 1.000... Doesn't trip off the tongue like, for example, ngwee. So that's a 'no'. Meanwhile, those of us fortunate to have been millionnaires are now mere thousandaires and the days of being able to leave an ATM with a bit of an internal swagger as a freshly minted millionnaire are long gone. Now minted, that has currency overtones too 100 Mints = 1 Rose?
The fun continues!
Tuesday, 1 January 2013
2013
Seems like a good day to write a post. Get me away from the frustration at trying to sync (sic) music onto my ipod for the bus journey home tomorrow. Too many choices; I need an idiot's guide.
Despite the the cliches of new starts, new year resolutions etc this is a new beginning, numerically at least, and we humans like new starts, maybe echoing our deep need for salvation, for reaching beyond our petty turmoils to something better, richer, more joyful.
Mm, these pairs of heads don't look joyful; maybe they need to make a resolution to start communicating! The weaver finch nest at the top shows hope, at least; these medium-sized yellow birds, resembling Yellowhammers, perform graceful aerobatics as they weave flexible green grass into their nest, suspended safely out of reach of predators (dogs, rats?) ready for their eggs to be laid next month while the rains are still providing plenty of insects for the hungry fledglings.
Back to Chilanga tomorrow; back to work...now, my resolution?
Despite the the cliches of new starts, new year resolutions etc this is a new beginning, numerically at least, and we humans like new starts, maybe echoing our deep need for salvation, for reaching beyond our petty turmoils to something better, richer, more joyful.
Mm, these pairs of heads don't look joyful; maybe they need to make a resolution to start communicating! The weaver finch nest at the top shows hope, at least; these medium-sized yellow birds, resembling Yellowhammers, perform graceful aerobatics as they weave flexible green grass into their nest, suspended safely out of reach of predators (dogs, rats?) ready for their eggs to be laid next month while the rains are still providing plenty of insects for the hungry fledglings.
Back to Chilanga tomorrow; back to work...now, my resolution?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)