the goodness and loveness

Broken English is wonderful and every day when I hear a Zambian say, "the goodness" I chuckle inside. To an extent it truly is an appropriate saying. The goodness in Zambia is seeing a bright red sun every evening around 7, getting used to the smell of petrol and burning trash, knowing how to get home even if you are driving on the left side of the road, and having a projector in your house to watch movies on. The loveness is watching all of us interns gather around our pup-kamba- when she got partially run over by a car. Happy to announce Kamba is fine, limbing and swollen, but surviving. The loveness is also learning all 17 coaches names and their sites, heading my first GRS meeting, and understanding every single acronym in a conversation.

A few notes from the past week. I started running around a bit and every step that I take turns my shoes a deeper and deeper red. I find it absolutely amazing that Zambians walk to work and arrive with so little dust on them. I have, however, heard a rumor that they carry shoe brushes with them. Perhaps I'll find out soon. I ate a chicken claw at a braai, tasted like chicken. Baked. On Saturday me and the girls in the house, Maxime, Marissa, and Lena, went to go see Jamaican artists Brick and Lace and as an intro to their African debut, Zambian artists opened. Incredibly entertaining, the whose who of Zambian Artists appeared and sang, or rapped, their hearts out. Let's just say that I am well versed in the genre of Zambian music. Sunday brought with it relaxing by the pool in the heat and a warmly welcomed Indian meal for dinner.

The week has been piled with visits to many of the sites where our programs take place. I was able to take an unexpected trip to the Tuesday market that immediately made my heart soar. It was a colorful mosaic of fruits and vegetables, not to mention the mamas who aptly sold the, literal, fruits of their labor in their decorative fabrics and wise smiles. It was a scene full of life and non-sequitor. Suits, people in business suits, shopping at a grungy market. I will end with a brief scene from the market.

I was on a mission to buy eggplant for a roommate, Max, and found a supply of eggplant priced at 3,000 kwacha, approximately 60 or so cents a kilo. I still have very little idea as to what a kilo looks like, except I weight 56kilos or at least that is what the scale in the kitchen says, and so I selected 3 eggplants. The mama asked me to hand it to her, balanced it in her rough hands and shook her head disapprovingly at me. Obviously I had no idea what a kilo looked or felt like. She quickly piles 4 more eggplant into the bag, hung it on the scale, showed me the scale reading one kilo exactly, and sent me on my merry way. Mission: learn what a kilo and half-kilo feel like.

peace to all.