My computer officially died Friday March 23 at approximately 7:30 Pm. Efforts to resuscitate it have thus far failed. But I'm hoping I'll be able to retrieve all the files I've lost (I backed up pretty much everything expect for the pictures I've taken while in Zambia). So that sucks. Then I went back to the refugee camp for all of last week. I have some cool shots but I'm having trouble uploading them. Bear with me. This trip was really cool actually. I created this Festival Day where 1000 came to participate. Our GRS trainers graduated 650 children from the program and there was a series of all-star games for the league we run there. This whole celebration was in part a showcase for our donors. So some head honchos from SIDA and IOM (if you don't know the acronyms look em up) were present and really loved it. The program was praised and I momentarily beamed. But seriously the amount of work I put into it and the amount of stress it caused me were substantial(in the best possible way).

Right now I'm running around trying to leave things in their proper order cause Saturday I'm head to South Africa! I'm meeting up with fellow Wesleyanite Pat Garrity in Port Elizabeth and we're road tripping it to Cape Town. Hopefully hiking, wine-touring, and sushi will ensue. I was supposed to go for a week but that turned into 12 days because I'm going to be helping out with the GRS program down there for a three day training session at the end of my stay. Cross-pollination. April for GRS Zambia is packed so my head will be spinning when I get back but fortunately I was never given a job description so anything goes and that's just how we roll here.

What a week. Last Sunday I went to go see a crazy boxing match. Esther Phiri, the female middleweight world champion(who happens to be Zambian) took on Monika Valentinova Petrova, an 18 year old Bulgarian challenger. I've never seen boxing live so I didn't know that I was in for a sweaty five hours of people smacking and hugging each other. Before the main event there were a few fights including the Zambian Heavyweight championship bout. The place was packed to the gills with people lined up out the door trying to bribe the guards to get in. I had bought ringside seats (for about 15 bucks) and somehow we ended up in the VIP section on an elevated platform with cush seats right behind the Zambian Minister of Information. We were pretty much the only white people in there and I still don't know whether we were led to VIP merely because we were white or not. Anyway, the Heavyweight fight was hilarious; the champion didn't come out when he was called and then finaly showed up with a shit-eating grin on his face like he was untouchable. The contender easily beat him after much hugging and the crowd went nuts.

I didn't realize how long I would have to wait to see the girl's fight and I thought about leaving because I sweat through my shirt about four times, but I'm glad I didn't. The only thing that sucked was the ladies only fought 8 rounds, two minutes each. So it was short, but well worth it. Esther Phiri was immense and destroyed the Bulgarian. Monika just couldn't handle her. The minister's wife in front of us kept yelling "Genda, Genda," the cheer for the interesting brew of feminism here. She leaned back to us and shouted "Esther: she fights just like a man!" and my friend Jenny retorted, "Better than a man" but the comment was lost amidst the celebration.


On Wednesday I saw an incredible concert performed by the Guinean group Ba Cissoko. The cora is a traditional West African instrument in the guitar family. It's made out of a gourd though and sounds more like a banjo. Ba Cissoko has roots in tradition cora music but they have a very modern sound. There were cora two players, one electric bassist and an unbelievable percussionist. While certain reviews of the band have called the lead singer/cora player the "Jimi Hedrix of cora" actually the other cora player (pictured on the left) is the true virtuoso. Sometimes I thought he sounded like Bela fleck, other times like the Mars Volta's Omar Rodriguez with all of his foot petals and effects. But always there was an afrobeat backbone to the rhythms that made dancing irresistible. Bottomline: this was the best music I've heard in six months! The Zambian live music scene is pitiful and disappointing. But to hear a quality concert again was truly a blessing. If you can get your hands on some Ba Cissoko please do so.

Finally my housemates were both away for the weekend and it made me realize how little time I spend alone: refreshing as all hell! Reminds me of the Loudon Wainwright song, "One Man Guy":

I'm a one man guy in the morning
Same in the afternoon
One man guy when the sun goes down
I whistle me a one man tune

One man guy a one man guy
Only kind of guy to be
I'm a one man guy
a one man guy
And that man... is me

Gesh, on the left, has an unfinished, mostly unfurnished house that his father gave him. There is no running water, no electricity, just put in a few glass windows. It's a work in progress whenever he saves enough money for improvements. Actually right out of this shot of us in the makeshift living room is a pile of rubble that takes up a quarter of the space. But it's his own house, which is amazing.

Unfortunately, Gesh's father passed away of stomach complications last Tuesday. I went to the funeral on Friday although I never had the fortune of meeting the man, my first in Zambia. Gesh was suprisingly strong and resilient about the whole thing. While my thoughts are not settled on the subject of death in Zambia, sometimes I think Zambians aren't afforded the luxury of mourning like Americans. They can't sit shiva for weeks. At the same time, the ritual of burying the dead happens with much more frequency here (Gesh lost a brother to AIDS not more than two months ago). Does this serve as an anesthesia to numb the pain of loss? It seems difficult to imagine that one can get used to the idea of death. Yet the trauma of many deaths might distance an individual from further occurances of such loss. I'm not sure. I do know that Gesh's inner strength is inspiring.

What he never told me is that his father was the personal driver for Kenneth Kaunda, the first president of Zambia. KK (as he is affectionately called) was at the funeral and gave a eulogy. Nothing could be more of an honor in Zambia.

I look forward to seeing Gesh's house take form and become a beautiful home were he and his family can one day live and from which he can inspire those around him like his father did before him. RIP Mr. Banda.

More Monkey Business

I have a lot of chimp pics and I don't want to be selfish about them.

Elizabeth takes some time to clean Alice's teeth.

I don't know what happened with the exposure on this one, let's just call it art.

This monkey's name is Shithead because he is a little shithead. As you can see, he's trying to drive away the rental car. He's also a misogynist and bites women.

In my darker moments, I feel like the refugee camp is just one giant out-stretched arm, hand palm-up, begging. This is the feeling I get when I'm there, on the ground, dealing with league we support and the GRS program that we support. The bottom line is that our efforts in Mayukwayukwa may not be sustainable once our contract to go there runs out for the simple reason that if we aren't visiting them and bringing with us gifts and incentives ie Nike shirts or soccer balls, they will cease running the programs. Nevermind that the benefits of the program (knowledge and understanding about HIV and AIDS) is what really matters. It's the forest through the trees syndrome; it's the live from moment to moment mentality.


Yet I must also remember that these are displaced peoples that did not choose their situation. At forty years old, Mayukwayukwa is the oldest refugee camp in Africa. Most of the people there who I work with were born in the camp and now have children of their own. If all your life you have been given food by the World Food Program you are going to be inclined to receiving food. Now the UN might pass a cessation clause for Angola meaning that all those refugees that escaped the dire situation there forty years ago or resurgent problems in the late nineties will lose their status as refugees. Essentially they will become illegal immigrants. Those that have already been repatriated voluntarily are not accepted by their Angolan brethren, the refugees are called "Zambianos", a strange xenophobia prevails.

Who Said Detachable Hoodies Ain't Cool: Part Deux

A new interactive dimension to this blog was recently created when one Nicholas Nogrady of Brooklyn, New York sent me a glorious photo that matches the one I posted a few months back. I feel like he's one of those street artists on Las Ramblas standing really still, imitating Rodin's Thinker or something, but better. If anyone else feels inspired feel free to help me help you get on this here site.

I haven't had internet for the past two weeks and before that Elizabeth was here so I apologize for the absence. I also just got back from my fourth trip to the Mayukwayukwa Refugee Camp. I feel like I haven't been home in awhile so let me fill you in on what's been going down.

Elizabeth arrived Feb. 20th and left March 3rd. We did Zambia properly, hitting up Livingston, going to a Chimpanzee Orphanage and chilling in Lusaka, grassrooting and whatnot.

This was my third time going to Victoria Falls, and honestly each time I've been I've seen something completely different. Depending on the season the magnitude of the falls differs, and right now it is at its most glorious. Here's me in December and then the exact same spot two weeks ago:



How crazy is that. Now it's breathtakingly powerful; there's no sense in wearing a raincoat because the mile high spray comes down like a torential rain in Florida only it never lets up. Actually the whole time we were there we couldn't stop laughing; the spray making us giddy. Apparently, Vic falls is suppose to be energizing, something to do with all the negative ions produced by the water tumbling. I buy it.


We hit up the requisite Sunset Cruise aka booze cruise on the Zambezi River. When you are boating down the river with complete strangers and an open bar, anything can happen, especially when an Aussie decides it's time to invent new types on shots. But the gem of the cruise was my man Yak of whom I somehow didn't get a picture. This guy was 40 Year Old Virgin meets Around the World in 80 Days. He was a Missourian covered in American flags who'd been around the world 7 times and been to all 7 continents, but I wondered if in fact he had ever stopped breast-feeding. Now that's cruel but Yak was truly classic, an oblivious albeit weathered world traveler.


After that it was elephant riding. Pretty cool to be on an elephant going through the savannah for an hour. Everyone goes with a guide and I learned that my elephant was a naughty girl who disappeared into the jungle for eight months and came back pregnant. I think my favorite part about the whole thing was just seeing Elizabeth riding an elephant, like she was the queen round these parts. Her elephant was the biggest one in the pack. However, better than riding was feeding them afterwards. I've basically got this elephant trunk in my face and I give it some nuts and she sucks the food out of my hand and puts it in her mouth. Bizarre.


Finally, we made a visit to the Royal Livingston Hotel for drinks on our last night. This place is uber 5 star and really brings it back to colonial times. It's like a recreation of Rudyard Kipling's day. We had this queezy feeling of being completely out of place in the British empire swank, but also like the kids allowed to sit at the grownups table at Thanksgiving. Anyway, we went there with my friend Bernerd and there just happens to be a grand piano at the bar and he happens to be a really good musician. It was hilarious, he tapped out the piano man, sat down and played and sang a two hour set. Mostly oldies, Beatles and U2(this is the same man doing a head-stand during a u2 song at my party), but me and Elizabeth were blown away. That and the husband making his wife take back glass after glass of whiskey before midnight because she was giving up alcohol for Lent(they were Irish) made for a most enjoyable evening.

Back in Lusaka, I showed Elizabeth off to all my friends, had her experience the Kidsafe Soccer league I run and we sampled the meager selection of good restaurants the city offers. We were only in Lusaka for the weekend (notice how I scheduled all our trips during the week making my February holiday all the more conspicuous).


Monday we were off to Chimfunshi, the Chimpanzee Orphanage, in the Copperbelt. It was an easy six-hour drive in the rented car. This place was a no-frills joint but perfect nonetheless. We stayed in a tin hut on the side of the Kafue River. Picturesque, there was a picnic bench that served as our dining room outside. They would bring us coals for the grill but it was self-catering, so we had to make all our meals, camping-style. Everything were delicious needless to say, from grilled pork medallions and saffron rice to soy marinated sirloin with green pepper, corn, and lentil salad with fresh basil. You know how I do!


The chimp experience was wild. They basically didn't prepare us at all and simply opened this cage door and out came five baby chimpanzees who immediately jumped on us. It was pretty surreal, one minute just hanging out and the next carrying a chimp through the woods. What?! We got to play with them for about an hour an half, wrestling, tickling. These animals are incredible, each with its own personality and temperment. It was fascinating being so close and observing how they interact with each other and with us. My favorite was one of them, Ed, would climb part way up a try and then jump down onto our guide and smack her on the ass, mischievious little fellow.


So the chimps at Chimfunshi are from all over the world. From Chile to Russia to Saudi Arabia, most of them have been rescued from defunct circuses or Arabian bars where they've been made to smoke cigarettes and drink. Now they're in the middle of Zambia. The people at the refuge don't ever set them back into the wild, which is good and bad I guess. They provide all the food and we got to watch a couple of feedings as you can see above. It was totally amazing. The refuge also has a hippo named Billy hanging about who was rescued as a baby and it still fed from a bottle though she's fifteen. I have never seen a hippo out of the water in broad daylight before so this was particularly cool. They are massive massive creatures and realy quite unbelievable.


Elizabeth almost missed her flight because my alarm didn't go off which actually would have been better. Her ghost is everywhere now and I'm still getting back into the rhythm of life without her. But the trip was incredible and I'm just thankful she got to come here. So that was a short summation of the our time together. It's a week later now and I'll fill you in soon on my trip to Mayukwayukwa but I wouldn't want to burden you with too much information at once. Take a break, grab a Snickers, and maybe when you come back I'll have updated something. Not that my internet is back up I'll be sure to post more often.