3 Days & Counting…

Only three days left until we swear in as full-time Peace Corps Volunteers! Unfortunately, I have been a bit sick for the last couple of days and my language proficiency test went very poorly this morning. My instructor was kind, but did mention that I did not seem myself—perhaps he noticed when I misunderstood his family question and answered that I had five children instead of saying I am the oldest of five children. Then, he proceeded to inquire about why I’m not married, which in English is hard enough to explain, and I fumbled for several minutes with my pieces of vocabulary to tell him that I didn’t marry so I could work in Peace Corps! This wasn’t a good enough explanation for him since we have a married couple in our training group, so I just said that at home I was too busy between work and school and friends. He said that didn’t make any sense to him since I had time in the evenings, and the language exchange broke down altogether. I then mumbled through a few statements about my work in the Peace Corps, etc. and generally forgot more than I remembered of the words I’ve been practicing for several weeks. So, I’ll find out on Thursday if I have to retake the test. To make myself feel better about my dreadful performance this morning, I will write out the first goal of the Peace Corps in my local language.

Kukwasha byalo bikebekwa bukwasho bwa bukomo. I know you’re impressed.

Yesterday I went home early after our final presentation for technical training and lay in bed for most of the afternoon and evening and just stared at the “ceiling”, or trash bag hanging under the thatched roof, and listened to the roaches and my mouse play. I did finish reading my novel, which was nice, and spent some decent time catching up on sleep. I’ve actually had a bit more time than I expected to read during PST and the PC Trainees have been great about exchanging books once we’re finished with them. Since our days end at sundown (approximately 7:00 p.m.!) there is not a whole lot to do between nightfall and sleep except read, study, and write letters. I try not to write too many letters when I’m feeling a blue, so I find it works better to just immerse myself in a book. The only downside to this is that I often fall asleep with my headlamp on and wake up in a couple hours cursing myself for wasting precious precious battery power. I’ve decided to keep track what I’ve read while in Zambia and I am going to try to add a very nerdy book list to this blog if the network stops crashing every few minutes.

Books are incredibly expensive in Zambia and they are a rare commodity. I went into the bookstore in Lusaka on Sunday to take a look around and was amazed to see that the cheapest paperback runs about 45,000 kw. Sure, this is only about $10 USD, but for the average rural Zambian, this amount is exorbitant. One of the projects I’m most interested in is a regional library since I strongly believe in the advantages of reading and exposing readers to literature. My counterpart is also very interested in such a project, but the logistical complications are a nightmare, and it will take me a while to fully discover whether or not this project is feasible and if it’s really a priority in my two year commitment here.

The rains are starting to subside and we will be heading into the cold season soon. I’m still not certain if cold means cold the way I think of it in Colorado, but both Americans and Zambians have assured me that my long underwear and hat will be necessary in a couple of months. While I’m sweating in the hot Zambian sun, this seems unbelievable! My new little—and I emphasize the little-- hut is equipped with a tin roof, a status symbol in the village, but an amenity that serves to bake the inhabitant, so I have a feeling I’ll be nice and toasty for a while. Perhaps when cold season gives way to hot season, I’ll be wishing for a thatched roof!

This morning my foot went through the latrine floor after my morning trip to “wash my knees” (a Zambia euphemism). Since I can’t possibly think of anything worse than having the pit latrine cave in while I’m inside, I’m now walking across the path to my friend’s pit latrine when necessary. The Zambians absolutely do not talk about bodily functions in any way or even appear to ever need use of the latrine, so I have to take a walk of shame, toilet paper roll glaring in my hand, any time nature calls.

I’m going to dash now while the network appears to be up… I’ll write again from Solwezi after swear in!