I was always trying to find a good internet cafe closer to work in Lusaka. In May, I noticed on my way to work that there was a new one with big letters painted on the wall close to the Soweto Spar. It took about a month before I managed to go there. Unfortunately I was told that they didn't have any computers yet but that they would arrive maybe next week. I waited again for about a month before checking it again but the answer was still the same: "Maybe next week.". I meant to go there before leaving Lusaka but in the end I forgot to do it so I don't know whether they have the computers even now.
While I was still in Zambia, writing this blog was very important to me and I kept planning blog texts in my head. However, returning to Finland has admittedly reduced my motivation. Lusaka seems so distant now and it's easy to block the whole thing from my mind even though some friends keep reminding me that I haven't updated the blog. Luckily, I also gained some new motivation by talking with some applicants to the ETVO program. Actually few of them told that they had read my blog, or at least browsed it. Wow, I have readers (who are not my friends or relatives). So, I'm still planning to write about few things and finish the blog properly. Most of the posts are almost ready anyway.
So, coming up next: Victoria Falls, the biggest tourist attraction in Zambia. Maybe next week.
Showing posts with label life in Zambia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life in Zambia. Show all posts
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Monday, 26 July 2010
Some cultural differences
There are many aspects in Zambian culture that I still don't properly understand. One of them is that people are both extremely polite and extremely rude. Nobody wants to tell unpleasant truths, so instead they tell white lies. For instance, there is this guy who often comes to see me at our home (I mentioned how I met him in this blog post. He's starting to annoy me quite a bit but I can't tell that to him because it wouldn't be polite.). He came by several times during the weekend when I was in South Luangwa, and at some point he asked for my number. Obviously, I've instructed my family not to give my number to anyone. In that case, I probably would've told that he should ask the phone number from me when he sees me next time. Instead of that, they claimed that I had changed my number and that they didn't have it – which seems to me like a rather absurd story. Similarly, I've also tried different approaches to declining to give my number and white lies seem to work best. Some guys have simply refused to understand what it means when I say that I don't give my number to strangers.
Then there is the other side of the coin: people are often very rude, at least from a Finnish perspective. A good example of the rudeness was a situation that happened at work. I was supposed to supervise a computer exam for the students. When I went to the computer class, there was a middle-aged man using one of the computers. I told him politely that we are having an exam there and that we need also that computer. He told me that someone had told him that no-one is using the computers at that time and that he was writing some important document for KYP. I tried to be extremely polite and apologized for the misunderstanding but there was no way that he would leave the computer. He told me that he needed it only for a short time, which was in the end 1,5 hours. You might imagine how furious I was because organizing the computer exams is difficult enough even when we can use all the computers. In a situation like this, middle-aged men can be as rude as they want whereas everyone else is expected to accommodate to their needs and be friendly and polite.
(It was also a good lesson for me: even though everything always works out in the end here, it might still be better to plan properly. I'm so used to it now that nothing works as planned that my enthusiasm towards planning has declined and sometimes it has perhaps forced other people to accommodate too much because of my requirements.)
One of the stereotypes about Africa is the communality. It is true, at least here in Zambia. Also that has positive and negative effects from my point of view. It means that basically anyone feels that they have the right to come and talk to me and ask what am I doing here. I understand the curiosity and it's fine with me but it gets a bit tiring sometimes – especially when the discussion turns into my phone number. The positive side is that there are people ready to protect me. When someone has started insulting me, someone else has usually defended me. Or when someone started following me home from the Chawama market, I could just ask some boys to help me and they talked with the guy and I got rid of him.
One of the things that amazed me for a very long time was how nobody seemed to have any money saved for the rainy day. I've since understood that there are actual reasons for that (I know there are probably more of them than the ones that I mention here.). First, the inflation rate in this country is still around 10%, and historically it has been a lot higher. Therefore, it's best to invest the money immediately. Besides that, there are also cultural reasons: If you have money, someone will come to you and ask to borrow it. Because of the requirement to be polite, it is really hard to refuse. And it might be about a sick child or something similar, so you would feel really guilty refusing to lend the money. For the same reason, it is usually possible to borrow money if you really need it. Getting the money back is more difficult, so it's best if you've invested the money so that you cannot lend it to anyone.
So what happens when somebody receives money: Is it all just splurged? A part of it undoubtedly is, and I can understand that. However, a share of it is usually invested. For instance, my family has a fairly big house, that has a small flat separately, where there are tenants. They are also building another small house to the plot. So whenever there is extra money, it is used to buy building materials. That's very common here, and it works as a sort of insurance as well. If everything goes wrong, they can still rely on having they own house and receiving some rent from the tenants.
Then there is the other side of the coin: people are often very rude, at least from a Finnish perspective. A good example of the rudeness was a situation that happened at work. I was supposed to supervise a computer exam for the students. When I went to the computer class, there was a middle-aged man using one of the computers. I told him politely that we are having an exam there and that we need also that computer. He told me that someone had told him that no-one is using the computers at that time and that he was writing some important document for KYP. I tried to be extremely polite and apologized for the misunderstanding but there was no way that he would leave the computer. He told me that he needed it only for a short time, which was in the end 1,5 hours. You might imagine how furious I was because organizing the computer exams is difficult enough even when we can use all the computers. In a situation like this, middle-aged men can be as rude as they want whereas everyone else is expected to accommodate to their needs and be friendly and polite.
(It was also a good lesson for me: even though everything always works out in the end here, it might still be better to plan properly. I'm so used to it now that nothing works as planned that my enthusiasm towards planning has declined and sometimes it has perhaps forced other people to accommodate too much because of my requirements.)
One of the stereotypes about Africa is the communality. It is true, at least here in Zambia. Also that has positive and negative effects from my point of view. It means that basically anyone feels that they have the right to come and talk to me and ask what am I doing here. I understand the curiosity and it's fine with me but it gets a bit tiring sometimes – especially when the discussion turns into my phone number. The positive side is that there are people ready to protect me. When someone has started insulting me, someone else has usually defended me. Or when someone started following me home from the Chawama market, I could just ask some boys to help me and they talked with the guy and I got rid of him.
One of the things that amazed me for a very long time was how nobody seemed to have any money saved for the rainy day. I've since understood that there are actual reasons for that (I know there are probably more of them than the ones that I mention here.). First, the inflation rate in this country is still around 10%, and historically it has been a lot higher. Therefore, it's best to invest the money immediately. Besides that, there are also cultural reasons: If you have money, someone will come to you and ask to borrow it. Because of the requirement to be polite, it is really hard to refuse. And it might be about a sick child or something similar, so you would feel really guilty refusing to lend the money. For the same reason, it is usually possible to borrow money if you really need it. Getting the money back is more difficult, so it's best if you've invested the money so that you cannot lend it to anyone.
So what happens when somebody receives money: Is it all just splurged? A part of it undoubtedly is, and I can understand that. However, a share of it is usually invested. For instance, my family has a fairly big house, that has a small flat separately, where there are tenants. They are also building another small house to the plot. So whenever there is extra money, it is used to buy building materials. That's very common here, and it works as a sort of insurance as well. If everything goes wrong, they can still rely on having they own house and receiving some rent from the tenants.
Friday, 23 July 2010
Cost of living
€ 1 = K 6450 (Damn Greeks!)
Prices:
K 300 SMS
K 500 Tomato
K 500 Banana
K 500 Frita
K 800 Egg
K 1 000 Apple
K 1 000 Orange
K 1 500 Avocado
K 2 000 Cabbage
K 2 500 0,33 l bottle of lemonade
K 3 000 Local newspaper
K 3 000 Minibus ride in Lusaka
K 3 000 0,5 l of milk
K 3 000 0,33 l of coke
K 3 800 Loaf of bread
K 7 500 90 g chocolate bar
K 8 000 Packet of good biscuits
K 8 000 2 yards of chitenge fabric
K 9 000 Hourly rate in an internet cafe
K 9 000 0,5 l of yoghurt
K 10 000 Second-hand dress
K 10 500 Cappuccino
K 12 000 250 g of real butter
K 12 000 6-inch sandwich at Subway
K 13 000 400 g of beef mince
K 20 000 Live chicken
K 26 000 2 l of cooking oil
K 32 500 The Economist
K 35 000 Medium sized pizza
K 35 000 Taxi to Kamwala South
K 35 000 Pair of second hand jeans
K 50 000 Chicken tikka with rice in an Indian restaurant
K 50 000 90 g of parma ham
K 60 000 10 kg of rice
K 60 000 Pair of new jeans (Made in China)
K 60 000 Dorm bed at a backpackers in Lusaka
K 65 000 25 kg of mealie meal (the ingredient of nsima)
K 150 000 Fixed rate water bill for a month (cheaper if there is a meter).
K 150 000 One-way bus ticket to Lilongwe, Malawi
K 150 000 Night in a lodge
K 400 000 Monthly rent for two rooms in Chawama
K 450 000 45 kg bale of second-hand dresses
K 1 200 000 Monthly rent for two rooms in Roma
K 4 000 000 Semester in UNZA without government bursary
K 10 000 000 Monthly rent for a three bedroom house in Kabulonga.
(The prices obviously vary a lot depending on the quality of the goods and where you buy them, so these are just examples.)
Monthly wages are harder to find. The following are according to JCTR but they seem a bit high compared to what I've heard. They get the data from unions and organizations. (They also publish a basic needs basket monthly.)
Guard: 250 000 – 850 000
Secretary: 1 390 500 – 1 900 000
Teacher: 1 300 300 – 2 200 600
Nurse: 1 300 000 – 3 450 000
If you take a good look at the prices, you'll notice that quite a few things are actually more expensive here than in Europe. Dairy products are particularly expensive as are many imported things: computers can cost double the amount they cost elsewhere. I was told that the reason is a monopoly / oligopoly in many products. So while many things are cheap, to have a “western” lifestyle, you need to pay western prices.
A minibus ride for 2000-3000 kwachas doesn't perhaps sound expensive. But if you stop to think of it for a while, it's about K 100 000 in a month. If you need to take two minibuses to get to work, the price doubles as there are no monthly tickets. In practice, you might end up paying more for public transport here than what you'd pay in Helsinki, where you can buy a monthly ticket. Based on means of transport, you can divide people into three income classes: those who walk to work, those who can afford to take a minibus, and those who have their own cars.
When looking at the wages, you might start wondering how do the poorest even manage to pay the rent (I still do). That's why there can be easily ten people living in two rooms. Extended families live together to keep the fixed costs smaller. This is common especially in Lusaka where housing is more expensive than elsewhere in Zambia.
Prices:
K 300 SMS
K 500 Tomato
K 500 Banana
K 500 Frita
K 800 Egg
K 1 000 Apple
K 1 000 Orange
K 1 500 Avocado
K 2 000 Cabbage
K 2 500 0,33 l bottle of lemonade
K 3 000 Local newspaper
K 3 000 Minibus ride in Lusaka
K 3 000 0,5 l of milk
K 3 000 0,33 l of coke
K 3 800 Loaf of bread
K 7 500 90 g chocolate bar
K 8 000 Packet of good biscuits
K 8 000 2 yards of chitenge fabric
K 9 000 Hourly rate in an internet cafe
K 9 000 0,5 l of yoghurt
K 10 000 Second-hand dress
K 10 500 Cappuccino
K 12 000 250 g of real butter
K 12 000 6-inch sandwich at Subway
K 13 000 400 g of beef mince
K 20 000 Live chicken
K 26 000 2 l of cooking oil
K 32 500 The Economist
K 35 000 Medium sized pizza
K 35 000 Taxi to Kamwala South
K 35 000 Pair of second hand jeans
K 50 000 Chicken tikka with rice in an Indian restaurant
K 50 000 90 g of parma ham
K 60 000 10 kg of rice
K 60 000 Pair of new jeans (Made in China)
K 60 000 Dorm bed at a backpackers in Lusaka
K 65 000 25 kg of mealie meal (the ingredient of nsima)
K 150 000 Fixed rate water bill for a month (cheaper if there is a meter).
K 150 000 One-way bus ticket to Lilongwe, Malawi
K 150 000 Night in a lodge
K 400 000 Monthly rent for two rooms in Chawama
K 450 000 45 kg bale of second-hand dresses
K 1 200 000 Monthly rent for two rooms in Roma
K 4 000 000 Semester in UNZA without government bursary
K 10 000 000 Monthly rent for a three bedroom house in Kabulonga.
(The prices obviously vary a lot depending on the quality of the goods and where you buy them, so these are just examples.)
Monthly wages are harder to find. The following are according to JCTR but they seem a bit high compared to what I've heard. They get the data from unions and organizations. (They also publish a basic needs basket monthly.)
Guard: 250 000 – 850 000
Secretary: 1 390 500 – 1 900 000
Teacher: 1 300 300 – 2 200 600
Nurse: 1 300 000 – 3 450 000
If you take a good look at the prices, you'll notice that quite a few things are actually more expensive here than in Europe. Dairy products are particularly expensive as are many imported things: computers can cost double the amount they cost elsewhere. I was told that the reason is a monopoly / oligopoly in many products. So while many things are cheap, to have a “western” lifestyle, you need to pay western prices.
A minibus ride for 2000-3000 kwachas doesn't perhaps sound expensive. But if you stop to think of it for a while, it's about K 100 000 in a month. If you need to take two minibuses to get to work, the price doubles as there are no monthly tickets. In practice, you might end up paying more for public transport here than what you'd pay in Helsinki, where you can buy a monthly ticket. Based on means of transport, you can divide people into three income classes: those who walk to work, those who can afford to take a minibus, and those who have their own cars.
When looking at the wages, you might start wondering how do the poorest even manage to pay the rent (I still do). That's why there can be easily ten people living in two rooms. Extended families live together to keep the fixed costs smaller. This is common especially in Lusaka where housing is more expensive than elsewhere in Zambia.
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
Notes from minibuses
Sometimes the minibus journeys are plain frustrating but it's true that my life would be a lot more boring if I drove with my own car. I could have a blog where I'd explain only the funny things that have happened to me in a minibus but I want to share a few of them with you:
I was in a minibus going home after work, and our minibus had to stop because an MSF (Medecins sans Frontieres) car came behind us with emergency lights and sirens on. Two minibuses followed immediately after the MSF car. They had obviously seen their opportunity to pass all the other cars when they are giving way to the emergency vehicle.
…
One evening, I took a minibus from the Embassy supermarket to go home. There is no bus station there but usually there are people dropping off from the buses that come from town, so it's not difficult to catch a ride from there. I took the first minibus that I saw – or actually heard the familiar John Howard, Chawama shout. The minibus had only the conductor and the driver and no other passengers but they started driving anyway. Unfortunately they turned to the wrong direction. I got very worried, and it didn't help much when we turned to a small road where there were basically no people around. They explained me how they were just avoiding the police but as I hadn't seen the police car, it was hard to believe it. Eventually, after driving those small roads for a while, we started seeing more people and we got to a place that I recognized. They dropped me off at my usual stop and didn't even take any payment from me because they had delayed me.
…
I took a minibus to the Manda Hill mall. Because I don't go there often, I was unsure how much the ride should cost. That's why I asked from the girl sitting next to me whether she knew the price. It turned out that she was going there as well. She asked what I was planning to do there and I rambled about “nephew's” birthday and that I needed to buy him a present. Then I asked her plans and her answer was that she works there in a pizzeria. Duh. Served as a remainder that usually people going shopping in Manda Hill don't take a minibus.
…
During that same minibus journey, there was a man sitting on my other side. He told me that he had seen white people before but had never talked with one. He was very nice and polite but he had a question: he wanted to know whether white people have any culture. He told me how he can do wood carvings and then asked from me what I can do. This question took me first by surprise but I answered that I can knit, and that I learned it from my grandmother. Soon after that I came up with an even better example: I can do Finnish folk dances (I considered it safe enough to mention it as it's highly unlikely that I would ever be in a situation here where I would need to prove it – it's probably 15 years since the last time I've danced.) He was impressed after hearing this, so I succeeded in removing at least one misconception of the white people.
I was in a minibus going home after work, and our minibus had to stop because an MSF (Medecins sans Frontieres) car came behind us with emergency lights and sirens on. Two minibuses followed immediately after the MSF car. They had obviously seen their opportunity to pass all the other cars when they are giving way to the emergency vehicle.
…
One evening, I took a minibus from the Embassy supermarket to go home. There is no bus station there but usually there are people dropping off from the buses that come from town, so it's not difficult to catch a ride from there. I took the first minibus that I saw – or actually heard the familiar John Howard, Chawama shout. The minibus had only the conductor and the driver and no other passengers but they started driving anyway. Unfortunately they turned to the wrong direction. I got very worried, and it didn't help much when we turned to a small road where there were basically no people around. They explained me how they were just avoiding the police but as I hadn't seen the police car, it was hard to believe it. Eventually, after driving those small roads for a while, we started seeing more people and we got to a place that I recognized. They dropped me off at my usual stop and didn't even take any payment from me because they had delayed me.
…
I took a minibus to the Manda Hill mall. Because I don't go there often, I was unsure how much the ride should cost. That's why I asked from the girl sitting next to me whether she knew the price. It turned out that she was going there as well. She asked what I was planning to do there and I rambled about “nephew's” birthday and that I needed to buy him a present. Then I asked her plans and her answer was that she works there in a pizzeria. Duh. Served as a remainder that usually people going shopping in Manda Hill don't take a minibus.
…
During that same minibus journey, there was a man sitting on my other side. He told me that he had seen white people before but had never talked with one. He was very nice and polite but he had a question: he wanted to know whether white people have any culture. He told me how he can do wood carvings and then asked from me what I can do. This question took me first by surprise but I answered that I can knit, and that I learned it from my grandmother. Soon after that I came up with an even better example: I can do Finnish folk dances (I considered it safe enough to mention it as it's highly unlikely that I would ever be in a situation here where I would need to prove it – it's probably 15 years since the last time I've danced.) He was impressed after hearing this, so I succeeded in removing at least one misconception of the white people.
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
Food, part 2
A friend listed some ideas on what I should write about in my blog and one of them was food. This happened about three months ago, so in case you have any suggestions, it's a good idea to tell them immediately or otherwise I won't manage to write about them before leaving Lusaka.
Food here is basically synonymous with nsima, maize porridge, which is the staple food. Nsima doesn't have any taste at all, so it wasn't too hard to get used to eating it. We eat rice as well and occasionally also pasta. Rice is also cultivated in Zambia, especially in the Western province.
Typically we have some protein source and some vegetables with nsima. In my family, the protein source varies rather evenly between fish, sausages, beef, chicken, eggs and beans. The vegetables are often impwas, okra or some leafy greens such as pumpkin leaves, rape, sweet potato leaves or some others of which I don't know the names. My favorite food is eggplants with eggs.
The amount of meat is fairly small but we do eat it regularly. It might be beef heart though. However, there is a protein source that everybody in my family says they prefer over beef: caterpillars. They have a very high protein content, so in that way they are an important part of the traditional Zambian diet. I wasn't too enthusiastic about them but I closed my eyes and tasted a few. The taste isn't too bad but the mouthfeel doesn't allow you to forget what you're actually eating. They are not a big part of our diet though; during these three months we've had them twice and there was always something else besides them.
Fish is common in our household, either fresh or dried. I'm not a huge fan of fish since in my opinion nothing in this country happens that fast that you could have proper fresh fish in Lusaka. The dried fish is sold in the markets so I see daily the amount flies around the fish, which doesn't really increase my appetite. Then again, closer to water, the fish is often excellent. A specific type of fish is kapenta, which is a very tiny fish. It used to be one of the cheapest protein sources but apparently isn't anymore. Kapenta tastes like fish, so I prefer it over caterpillars (unlike the rest of the family) but I have the same prejudice against kapenta that I have for fish in general here.
Vegetables are almost always cooked. When I cooked for my family for the first time, I made some salad and the teenager of the family said that it was the first time ever she had salad.
Spices are not commonly used, in my home there were no spices besides salt, before I bought some. Salt is used a lot. I don't know is it the heat or what, but I've also developed a taste for salty food. Month ago I found myself adding salt to a toasted sandwich in a restaurant.
There are many customs related to eating. Before eating, we wash our hands. Classically this is done so, that there is a dish filled with water, and the man (the head of the house) washes his hands there first and then the rest in some sort of rank order. As the bacteria and diseases can actually spread that way, there has been campaigning against the custom, so instead we have a separate dish for fresh water, from which we can pour water on the hands.
Traditionally everything throughout the meal follows the rank order: men take food first, then women and the children last. Man is the one who brings the money to the house, so he gets also a lion's share of the food. There are also some other details that show the rank: For instance, I get a porcelain plate whereas the children eat from plastic plates. Traditionally also, the man would eat seated on a chair while everybody else sits on the floor. We have a dinner table but not all can fit around it at the same time, so some of the children usually have to sit on the floor. So did I for the first three months before we got the dinner table.
Nsima we eat with our fingers but rice or pasta we eat with forks or spoons (there are never enough forks for everyone). I had lunch with another mzungu in a restaurant, and we ate nsima with our fingers – not very exotic for either one of us after already spending a few months in Zambia. However, to the waiter this was apparently something special and afterwards he come to thank us for respecting their customs.
Admittedly, I don't eat nsima in a restaurant that often – once a day at home is quite enough for me. That time, the lunch restaurant had ran out of rice before we got there. Usually I go to Subway or to an Indian restaurant. Subway is cheap here, and it's nice to eat some fresh vegetables sometimes. Indian food isn't that cheap but there are quite a few Indians here so the Indian food is usually excellent. Then again, pizzas and hamburgers are hugely over-priced and not that good.
Food here is basically synonymous with nsima, maize porridge, which is the staple food. Nsima doesn't have any taste at all, so it wasn't too hard to get used to eating it. We eat rice as well and occasionally also pasta. Rice is also cultivated in Zambia, especially in the Western province.
Typically we have some protein source and some vegetables with nsima. In my family, the protein source varies rather evenly between fish, sausages, beef, chicken, eggs and beans. The vegetables are often impwas, okra or some leafy greens such as pumpkin leaves, rape, sweet potato leaves or some others of which I don't know the names. My favorite food is eggplants with eggs.
The amount of meat is fairly small but we do eat it regularly. It might be beef heart though. However, there is a protein source that everybody in my family says they prefer over beef: caterpillars. They have a very high protein content, so in that way they are an important part of the traditional Zambian diet. I wasn't too enthusiastic about them but I closed my eyes and tasted a few. The taste isn't too bad but the mouthfeel doesn't allow you to forget what you're actually eating. They are not a big part of our diet though; during these three months we've had them twice and there was always something else besides them.
Fish is common in our household, either fresh or dried. I'm not a huge fan of fish since in my opinion nothing in this country happens that fast that you could have proper fresh fish in Lusaka. The dried fish is sold in the markets so I see daily the amount flies around the fish, which doesn't really increase my appetite. Then again, closer to water, the fish is often excellent. A specific type of fish is kapenta, which is a very tiny fish. It used to be one of the cheapest protein sources but apparently isn't anymore. Kapenta tastes like fish, so I prefer it over caterpillars (unlike the rest of the family) but I have the same prejudice against kapenta that I have for fish in general here.
Vegetables are almost always cooked. When I cooked for my family for the first time, I made some salad and the teenager of the family said that it was the first time ever she had salad.
Spices are not commonly used, in my home there were no spices besides salt, before I bought some. Salt is used a lot. I don't know is it the heat or what, but I've also developed a taste for salty food. Month ago I found myself adding salt to a toasted sandwich in a restaurant.
There are many customs related to eating. Before eating, we wash our hands. Classically this is done so, that there is a dish filled with water, and the man (the head of the house) washes his hands there first and then the rest in some sort of rank order. As the bacteria and diseases can actually spread that way, there has been campaigning against the custom, so instead we have a separate dish for fresh water, from which we can pour water on the hands.
Traditionally everything throughout the meal follows the rank order: men take food first, then women and the children last. Man is the one who brings the money to the house, so he gets also a lion's share of the food. There are also some other details that show the rank: For instance, I get a porcelain plate whereas the children eat from plastic plates. Traditionally also, the man would eat seated on a chair while everybody else sits on the floor. We have a dinner table but not all can fit around it at the same time, so some of the children usually have to sit on the floor. So did I for the first three months before we got the dinner table.
Nsima we eat with our fingers but rice or pasta we eat with forks or spoons (there are never enough forks for everyone). I had lunch with another mzungu in a restaurant, and we ate nsima with our fingers – not very exotic for either one of us after already spending a few months in Zambia. However, to the waiter this was apparently something special and afterwards he come to thank us for respecting their customs.
Admittedly, I don't eat nsima in a restaurant that often – once a day at home is quite enough for me. That time, the lunch restaurant had ran out of rice before we got there. Usually I go to Subway or to an Indian restaurant. Subway is cheap here, and it's nice to eat some fresh vegetables sometimes. Indian food isn't that cheap but there are quite a few Indians here so the Indian food is usually excellent. Then again, pizzas and hamburgers are hugely over-priced and not that good.
Friday, 4 June 2010
Food
I have no idea what these are called. However, they are usually cooked with pounded groundnuts:
Caterpillars at the market:
Cooked caterpillars:
Chicken foot with nsima. (There was something else for dinner as well. Chicken feet are a special delicacy.):
Kapenta at the market:
Cooked kapenta:
Dried maize:
Dried maize cooked with pounded groundnuts:
Caterpillars at the market:
Cooked caterpillars:
Chicken foot with nsima. (There was something else for dinner as well. Chicken feet are a special delicacy.):
Kapenta at the market:
Cooked kapenta:
Dried maize:
Dried maize cooked with pounded groundnuts:
Thursday, 27 May 2010
A week in a volunteer's life
Thursday
I have an 8 o'clock communication skills class. I start around 8.30 but even then very few students are present. I talk about written communication and the students look like they couldn't care any less. I never got a good contact with this class. After that, I have a computer class. Again, not very many students are present. We review Microsoft Excel and talk about the coming exam, which I had almost forgotten.
The afternoon communication skills class is the opposite of the morning class. They participate actively and ask questions. The topic is communicating in the internet and netiquette. The students write everything down. After that follows another computer class, MS Word this time. Only half of the students are present, so I wouldn't want to proceed to a new topic but the students get bored, so I have to. Later, I realize that I shouldn't expect anymore that there are so many students present as was in the beginning of the semester. It's the same thing that happens always at the university as well, first lectures of the semester collect a lot bigger audience than the later ones. Of course, the effect isn't that extreme here, but the students have probably a variety of reasons why they can't attend. Some probably have to go to work.
After work, I run around the town looking for a present. The youngest of the family turns three. I had searched earlier for a perfect toy tea set, but can't find it anymore from the store. So I go to Shoprite and buy another kind of set from there. It's 17.30 when I get to Kulima tower bus station, so I decide to take a bus to Leveka, which is closer to home than Snow White. The bus to Leveka takes longer to fill up, so it takes a while before we leave. The traffic is completely jammed. There is a police traffic patrol at a nearby petrol station, so the minibuses can't use it as a shortcut and are thus unable to join the traffic. It takes probably half an hour to proceed 500 meters. After that, the rest of the journey goes fast.
It's already dark when I get off at Leveka. It's safer to walk from there than from Snow White, but I feel more uncomfortable because I walk so rarely from there. I walk together with a woman going in the same direction. At some point a young guy starts talking with us. The woman turns to her home and hands me over to him. We talk the usual small talk until we get to my place. He knows where I live, which I always find spooky. We exchange the usual pleasantries and I tell him that I won't recognize him later because I haven't even seen his face properly. I tell him to greet me when he sees me the next time.
At home, we celebrate the birthday. I give my present: the tea set, paper, crayons and soap bubble toy. She gets also a pair of shoes from her mother and keeps repeating “Is this all really for me?”.
At 19.30, we watch a telenovela called Second Chance, as we do every evening.
Friday
At work, I agree with a teacher that I have the last computer class with his students on Monday. They'll have first one exam and I can have them after that. I want to review MS Excel with them before they have an exam on that. My extremely small Friday class doesn't show up.
After work, I promise to go out for a drink with a friend. He has to meet someone in town, so I keep him company. The man follows the usual Zambian time concept, and 5 minutes turns out to be 25 minutes. It's again 17.30 before I'm at the Kulima tower bus station, but I take a minibus to Chawama. The traffic is almost equally bad as the night before. I am at home at 18.30 and it's already dark. On my way, I hear comments on how I'm late and someone warns that I shouldn't walk so late. I feel frustrated, as the days will only get shorter.
Saturday
I have tons of laundry, so I start my day by washing it all. While, I'm washing, the guy from Thursday comes to our gate. I am not very happy that he showed up there but I go to talk with him. He asks whether I have a boyfriend in Finland, and I say yes. He asks for his profession, and I answer that he's a teacher, because that's the only one that comes into my mind. Luckily, he doesn't ask more questions about my imaginary boyfriend. The discussions turns into religion and God. He says a lot of things and I stare blankly and say hmmm. Finally he leaves but promises to come back the next day. Hmmm.
I finish washing and have some breakfast while watching a live chicken in our kitchen. I decide to go to town to do some shopping. The weather is getting colder, so I've decided that I need jeans. I go to Kamwala, and buy the first pair that I try out. They cost K 60 000 (€ 10) and are made in China. I have Indian food for lunch at Downtown shopping center in Kamwala. It's still early, so I decide to visit the National museum, which is close by. I get the entrance ticket with the local price when I say that I have a work permit. Downstairs, there is an interesting modern art exhibition that was supposed to end already two weeks earlier according to the posters. When I walk upstairs, I try to figure out when was the last time I was in a building that has more than one floor. In the end, I come up with two internet cafes in Lusaka that are upstairs. After viewing the main exhibition that is upstairs, I change my opinion of the Lozi museum in Mongu: It's actually fairly big and extremely well-planned for a regional museum.
I go to buy some food from a supermarket and then some fruits from a market. When I'm selecting oranges and apples, a man comes and tries to sell me a plastic bag. I refuse but he won't give up until the woman selling the fruits shoos him away with an umbrella. After that, I see how a minibus hits a woman. Luckily, the woman isn't hurt. Considering how recklessly the minibuses drive, it's perhaps surprising that it is actually the first time that I see it happening.
I take a minibus back home. A man sitting behind me starts talking with me. He know some Finns, and he works for 4H in Zambia. He seems nice, and I tell him where I work. He promises to come and see me there, as I'd be interested in learning something about what 4H does here. Next to him, there is a man, who seems to me rather drunken, and who desperately wants to talk with me. Unfortunately, he uses Bemba, so he's not very successful. He gets off the minibus, and I have to get off to let him get out. He wants to shake my hand but my hands are full with my grocery bags. He starts slapping my face (not hard), and I yell stop. Everybody around me laughs and I don't appreciate it.
When I get home, only the youngest boy is there, and neither of us has the keys to the house. The women have gone to a baptism party. Eventually, the older boys come home and we get inside. The boys also cook dinner: We eat chicken. When the women get back, the mother hands me a beer. There was so much beer reserved for the party and so few people who drink that they had extras to take home.
Sunday
I wake up fairly early, and have breakfast. I go back to bed and read a book. Then one of the boys comes to tell me that the same guy is again at the gate. He wanted to greet me before going to church. I am getting a bit annoyed with him, even though he is nice and polite. He says he'll come again in the afternoon.
I agree to meet a fellow volunteer at Arcade's. We go to the cinema there and watch The Bounty Hunter. After that, we browse the Sunday market at Arcade's and buy some souvenirs. We also go to an internet cafe to plan the next weekend and have lunch at Subway. We finish by going to the supermarket and I buy a chocolate bar just out of the joy that I can, as the supermarkets, where I usually go, don't stock any chocolates.
When I get home, I ask whether the guy had showed up. He hadn't but he comes almost immediately after I've gotten home. This time he brings a friend with him. I tell him that I'm probably not at home on Monday evening.
Monday
One of the teachers asks me to supervise an exam. The exam starts only at 11, so I am not able to have a computer lesson with them afterwards. Oh well, maybe next day...
A drama group is having a meeting with a potential donor just outside my office. I hear part of the discussion and they refer to me a few times. I get the feeling that they are trying to score a few mzungu points because of me.
Both of the students of my Monday afternoon computer class are there, perhaps not very punctual, but always enthusiastic. We talk about going to US Information Centre to have internet lessons.
When I'm walking home through the Kuku market, a man grabs my arm and holds it so tightly that it hurts. I wrestle my arm free, and immediately another man comes to scold him.
Tuesday
The students have two exams, and I supervise the latter one. Thus, no time for review that day either. I catch some students passing notes to each other, and get extremely annoyed with them.
I have no classes on Tuesdays, so usually I use them for planning the lessons. I need to go to town to take care of some things and to visit an internet cafe. When I get to the internet cafe and manage to open all necessary web pages, their connection drops. The solution they offer is to come back some other time. I haven't managed to do any of the things I had planned, such as updating this blog. Oh well, maybe next day. I head back to work to do some paperwork and to plan an exam on MS Excel for the students. I leave work at 17:10 and make it home just before it's dark.
Wednesday
My morning is rather slow, and after I've left home, I notice that I forgot to take my credit card with me. I need cash, so I return home to fetch it and leave again. In town, I walk to an internet cafe. On my way there, a man starts talking to me. He comments on me being late for work and asks about my weekend. I give short and a bit impolite answers because I find it odd that a stranger talks to me like that. After he asks about school, I realize that I've talked with him earlier as well. I had met him while walking along Los Angeles road.
In the internet cafe, I see a friend and we go to a cafe next door to have coffee. It's one of the very few places in central Lusaka from where you can get good coffee. It's my favorite internet cafe because they have the most reliable internet connection that I've found and even a wireless connection, so I can enjoy a cappuccino in the cafe while surfing in the internet with my own laptop and imagine for a moment that I'm somewhere else than in Lusaka. I stay in the cafe long enough to update the blog and search for some information that had been on my mind. I forget half of the things I had planned to do because I'm trying to hurry up to get to work.
At work, I have only an afternoon computer class. I show them how to draw pictures and insert them to word document. They catch the idea quickly and practice with enthusiasm.
Was this a typical week? Some weeks are perhaps less eventful but I still don't know what is typical in Lusaka. It did have some exceptional points, such as not having any power cuts at work or at home.
I have an 8 o'clock communication skills class. I start around 8.30 but even then very few students are present. I talk about written communication and the students look like they couldn't care any less. I never got a good contact with this class. After that, I have a computer class. Again, not very many students are present. We review Microsoft Excel and talk about the coming exam, which I had almost forgotten.
The afternoon communication skills class is the opposite of the morning class. They participate actively and ask questions. The topic is communicating in the internet and netiquette. The students write everything down. After that follows another computer class, MS Word this time. Only half of the students are present, so I wouldn't want to proceed to a new topic but the students get bored, so I have to. Later, I realize that I shouldn't expect anymore that there are so many students present as was in the beginning of the semester. It's the same thing that happens always at the university as well, first lectures of the semester collect a lot bigger audience than the later ones. Of course, the effect isn't that extreme here, but the students have probably a variety of reasons why they can't attend. Some probably have to go to work.
After work, I run around the town looking for a present. The youngest of the family turns three. I had searched earlier for a perfect toy tea set, but can't find it anymore from the store. So I go to Shoprite and buy another kind of set from there. It's 17.30 when I get to Kulima tower bus station, so I decide to take a bus to Leveka, which is closer to home than Snow White. The bus to Leveka takes longer to fill up, so it takes a while before we leave. The traffic is completely jammed. There is a police traffic patrol at a nearby petrol station, so the minibuses can't use it as a shortcut and are thus unable to join the traffic. It takes probably half an hour to proceed 500 meters. After that, the rest of the journey goes fast.
It's already dark when I get off at Leveka. It's safer to walk from there than from Snow White, but I feel more uncomfortable because I walk so rarely from there. I walk together with a woman going in the same direction. At some point a young guy starts talking with us. The woman turns to her home and hands me over to him. We talk the usual small talk until we get to my place. He knows where I live, which I always find spooky. We exchange the usual pleasantries and I tell him that I won't recognize him later because I haven't even seen his face properly. I tell him to greet me when he sees me the next time.
At home, we celebrate the birthday. I give my present: the tea set, paper, crayons and soap bubble toy. She gets also a pair of shoes from her mother and keeps repeating “Is this all really for me?”.
At 19.30, we watch a telenovela called Second Chance, as we do every evening.
Friday
At work, I agree with a teacher that I have the last computer class with his students on Monday. They'll have first one exam and I can have them after that. I want to review MS Excel with them before they have an exam on that. My extremely small Friday class doesn't show up.
After work, I promise to go out for a drink with a friend. He has to meet someone in town, so I keep him company. The man follows the usual Zambian time concept, and 5 minutes turns out to be 25 minutes. It's again 17.30 before I'm at the Kulima tower bus station, but I take a minibus to Chawama. The traffic is almost equally bad as the night before. I am at home at 18.30 and it's already dark. On my way, I hear comments on how I'm late and someone warns that I shouldn't walk so late. I feel frustrated, as the days will only get shorter.
Saturday
I have tons of laundry, so I start my day by washing it all. While, I'm washing, the guy from Thursday comes to our gate. I am not very happy that he showed up there but I go to talk with him. He asks whether I have a boyfriend in Finland, and I say yes. He asks for his profession, and I answer that he's a teacher, because that's the only one that comes into my mind. Luckily, he doesn't ask more questions about my imaginary boyfriend. The discussions turns into religion and God. He says a lot of things and I stare blankly and say hmmm. Finally he leaves but promises to come back the next day. Hmmm.
I finish washing and have some breakfast while watching a live chicken in our kitchen. I decide to go to town to do some shopping. The weather is getting colder, so I've decided that I need jeans. I go to Kamwala, and buy the first pair that I try out. They cost K 60 000 (€ 10) and are made in China. I have Indian food for lunch at Downtown shopping center in Kamwala. It's still early, so I decide to visit the National museum, which is close by. I get the entrance ticket with the local price when I say that I have a work permit. Downstairs, there is an interesting modern art exhibition that was supposed to end already two weeks earlier according to the posters. When I walk upstairs, I try to figure out when was the last time I was in a building that has more than one floor. In the end, I come up with two internet cafes in Lusaka that are upstairs. After viewing the main exhibition that is upstairs, I change my opinion of the Lozi museum in Mongu: It's actually fairly big and extremely well-planned for a regional museum.
I go to buy some food from a supermarket and then some fruits from a market. When I'm selecting oranges and apples, a man comes and tries to sell me a plastic bag. I refuse but he won't give up until the woman selling the fruits shoos him away with an umbrella. After that, I see how a minibus hits a woman. Luckily, the woman isn't hurt. Considering how recklessly the minibuses drive, it's perhaps surprising that it is actually the first time that I see it happening.
I take a minibus back home. A man sitting behind me starts talking with me. He know some Finns, and he works for 4H in Zambia. He seems nice, and I tell him where I work. He promises to come and see me there, as I'd be interested in learning something about what 4H does here. Next to him, there is a man, who seems to me rather drunken, and who desperately wants to talk with me. Unfortunately, he uses Bemba, so he's not very successful. He gets off the minibus, and I have to get off to let him get out. He wants to shake my hand but my hands are full with my grocery bags. He starts slapping my face (not hard), and I yell stop. Everybody around me laughs and I don't appreciate it.
When I get home, only the youngest boy is there, and neither of us has the keys to the house. The women have gone to a baptism party. Eventually, the older boys come home and we get inside. The boys also cook dinner: We eat chicken. When the women get back, the mother hands me a beer. There was so much beer reserved for the party and so few people who drink that they had extras to take home.
Sunday
I wake up fairly early, and have breakfast. I go back to bed and read a book. Then one of the boys comes to tell me that the same guy is again at the gate. He wanted to greet me before going to church. I am getting a bit annoyed with him, even though he is nice and polite. He says he'll come again in the afternoon.
I agree to meet a fellow volunteer at Arcade's. We go to the cinema there and watch The Bounty Hunter. After that, we browse the Sunday market at Arcade's and buy some souvenirs. We also go to an internet cafe to plan the next weekend and have lunch at Subway. We finish by going to the supermarket and I buy a chocolate bar just out of the joy that I can, as the supermarkets, where I usually go, don't stock any chocolates.
When I get home, I ask whether the guy had showed up. He hadn't but he comes almost immediately after I've gotten home. This time he brings a friend with him. I tell him that I'm probably not at home on Monday evening.
Monday
One of the teachers asks me to supervise an exam. The exam starts only at 11, so I am not able to have a computer lesson with them afterwards. Oh well, maybe next day...
A drama group is having a meeting with a potential donor just outside my office. I hear part of the discussion and they refer to me a few times. I get the feeling that they are trying to score a few mzungu points because of me.
Both of the students of my Monday afternoon computer class are there, perhaps not very punctual, but always enthusiastic. We talk about going to US Information Centre to have internet lessons.
When I'm walking home through the Kuku market, a man grabs my arm and holds it so tightly that it hurts. I wrestle my arm free, and immediately another man comes to scold him.
Tuesday
The students have two exams, and I supervise the latter one. Thus, no time for review that day either. I catch some students passing notes to each other, and get extremely annoyed with them.
I have no classes on Tuesdays, so usually I use them for planning the lessons. I need to go to town to take care of some things and to visit an internet cafe. When I get to the internet cafe and manage to open all necessary web pages, their connection drops. The solution they offer is to come back some other time. I haven't managed to do any of the things I had planned, such as updating this blog. Oh well, maybe next day. I head back to work to do some paperwork and to plan an exam on MS Excel for the students. I leave work at 17:10 and make it home just before it's dark.
Wednesday
My morning is rather slow, and after I've left home, I notice that I forgot to take my credit card with me. I need cash, so I return home to fetch it and leave again. In town, I walk to an internet cafe. On my way there, a man starts talking to me. He comments on me being late for work and asks about my weekend. I give short and a bit impolite answers because I find it odd that a stranger talks to me like that. After he asks about school, I realize that I've talked with him earlier as well. I had met him while walking along Los Angeles road.
In the internet cafe, I see a friend and we go to a cafe next door to have coffee. It's one of the very few places in central Lusaka from where you can get good coffee. It's my favorite internet cafe because they have the most reliable internet connection that I've found and even a wireless connection, so I can enjoy a cappuccino in the cafe while surfing in the internet with my own laptop and imagine for a moment that I'm somewhere else than in Lusaka. I stay in the cafe long enough to update the blog and search for some information that had been on my mind. I forget half of the things I had planned to do because I'm trying to hurry up to get to work.
At work, I have only an afternoon computer class. I show them how to draw pictures and insert them to word document. They catch the idea quickly and practice with enthusiasm.
Was this a typical week? Some weeks are perhaps less eventful but I still don't know what is typical in Lusaka. It did have some exceptional points, such as not having any power cuts at work or at home.
Tuesday, 18 May 2010
My Africa
A colleague asked from me what sort of things we hear from Africa. I told him that there are basically two alternatives: either it focuses on wars and poverty or then it's hugely romanticized and mystified and focuses on the beautiful nature and wildlife. I think these two images are really tight in our minds. Always when I leave Lusaka and see the landscape, I remember again that I'm really in Africa. Obviously, Lusaka is just as much in Africa but it's hard to remember it because it doesn't match the Africa of the images.
I thought that I'll go through some cliches and tell you how they look like from my point of view:
Poverty. Yes, there is poverty in Lusaka. It's not visually that clear though as you might expect - there are no mud huts with thatched roofs or desperate looking children with tattered clothing. There are people who struggle to provide adequate meals for the family, and who do live with less than a dollar per day. There's obviously a lot to this topic, and I'll try to write something more about it at some point. For more on the images of poverty, check this project that encourages to think beyond the pictures. (via Aidwatch)
Wars. Zambia is a peaceful country, just as I have been told numerous times. There are some refugee camps though, as some of Zambia's neighbors do not quite have as peaceful history as Zambia does (Think: DRC, Zimbabwe, Angola, Mozambique, Namibia). They are visible only in that way that they are mentioned in the news, or as the presence of UNHCR.
Illiteracy. This is obviously difficult to judge, but I would say that it's not as big of a problem as you might imagine. Zambia's school system has it's problems (such as the low salaries for teachers, which makes them very unmotivated and the job in general not a very appealing one), but the school attendance rates are fairly good – especially in towns. According to UNICEF, the total adult literacy rate is 68 %.
Food. 95 % of time, we eat nsima (maize porridge) or rice, with vegetables and beef, chicken, fish, beans, eggs or sausages for dinner. Sometimes we have pasta as well. But yes, the odd stuff, such as caterpillars exists as well.
Heat. We've had day-time temperatures below 20°C and it's only going to get colder.
Wildlife. Again not very surprisingly, there isn't much of wildlife in Lusaka – outside zoos of some sort. National parks are more or less the only places where you can actually see wildlife, and even they have suffered because of poachers. I saw a hippo in Chirundu though, but that is already close to Lower Zambezi national park.
I used the excellent guide “How to write about Africa” as a source for inspiration. Any other cliches coming to your mind?
I thought that I'll go through some cliches and tell you how they look like from my point of view:
Poverty. Yes, there is poverty in Lusaka. It's not visually that clear though as you might expect - there are no mud huts with thatched roofs or desperate looking children with tattered clothing. There are people who struggle to provide adequate meals for the family, and who do live with less than a dollar per day. There's obviously a lot to this topic, and I'll try to write something more about it at some point. For more on the images of poverty, check this project that encourages to think beyond the pictures. (via Aidwatch)
Wars. Zambia is a peaceful country, just as I have been told numerous times. There are some refugee camps though, as some of Zambia's neighbors do not quite have as peaceful history as Zambia does (Think: DRC, Zimbabwe, Angola, Mozambique, Namibia). They are visible only in that way that they are mentioned in the news, or as the presence of UNHCR.
Illiteracy. This is obviously difficult to judge, but I would say that it's not as big of a problem as you might imagine. Zambia's school system has it's problems (such as the low salaries for teachers, which makes them very unmotivated and the job in general not a very appealing one), but the school attendance rates are fairly good – especially in towns. According to UNICEF, the total adult literacy rate is 68 %.
Food. 95 % of time, we eat nsima (maize porridge) or rice, with vegetables and beef, chicken, fish, beans, eggs or sausages for dinner. Sometimes we have pasta as well. But yes, the odd stuff, such as caterpillars exists as well.
Heat. We've had day-time temperatures below 20°C and it's only going to get colder.
Wildlife. Again not very surprisingly, there isn't much of wildlife in Lusaka – outside zoos of some sort. National parks are more or less the only places where you can actually see wildlife, and even they have suffered because of poachers. I saw a hippo in Chirundu though, but that is already close to Lower Zambezi national park.
I used the excellent guide “How to write about Africa” as a source for inspiration. Any other cliches coming to your mind?
Friday, 23 April 2010
Annoyances
We were supposed to have a meeting at work at 2 pm. At 1.55, I was starting to feel a bit restless, and at 2 o'clock I asked from the people next door that weren't we supposed to have a meeting. They smiled at me and told that we'd have lunch first but the lunch wasn't ready yet. After perhaps ten minutes they called me to go to lunch with them. Around 3 pm we went to the office to wait for the meeting to start. Around 3.20, others arrived and we were able to actually start the meeting.
Waiting is the thing in Zambia that usually gets on mzungus nerves. ”I'll be there soon” usually means that you have to wait at least 20-30 minutes, and when somebody says 20 minutes you should at least double the time. This has taught me new aspects of myself: I have almost endless patience when it comes to waiting. I guess I should thank my brothers for this as they have very Zambian time concept.
There are some exceptions to my patience though: My 8 o'clock communication skills class is a nightmare. First, I have to get up very early to make it to work before 8, and then the students come very late. By 8.30 maybe a half of the students has arrived. It makes teaching next to impossible.
Patience isn't always such a good thing either. It took over 1,5 months from me to get my work permit. I'm sure that if I had had less patience, the process would've been faster.
I get annoyed with waiting also if it seems that I cannot make it home before it gets dark. That is one of the things that I've found most difficult to get used to: it's not safe to walk alone after dark. (This is not a general rule of Lusaka though, there are areas where also a white girl can walk safely in the evening, but Kamwala South is just too quiet.) I've had someone escort me when I've gone home as late as 8 o'clock in the evening. It's also annoying when I know that it means that my friend spends extra two hours traveling with minibuses just to make sure that I got home safely.
On more technical issues, I was thinking what would I choose if I could have one thing fixed here to make my life more comfortable. Would I choose running water, washing machine, indoor toilet, no power cuts, internet connection or something else? (Actually having reliable running water would fix most of the problems. For the moment, having an indoor toilet or a washing machine would be rather pointless when you cannot count on having water all the time.) In the end, I came to the conclusion that I would choose a functioning waste management system. At home, waste “management” means that we dump all the garbage across the road. At work, it's chucked in the backyard.
The lack of waste management annoys me in several ways. It means that there is trash just about everywhere. The trash is burnt regularly, and walking through the smoke that comes from burning plastic is not one of my favorite things to do. It makes me also feel guilty for everything I buy - particularly for bottled water - because I know where the empty bottles end up. It also feels like a personal insult for me as an engineer. This country has numerous problems that are really difficult to solve. However, waste management is plain logistics so it shouldn't be such a difficult problem to solve but it does require money.
Waiting is the thing in Zambia that usually gets on mzungus nerves. ”I'll be there soon” usually means that you have to wait at least 20-30 minutes, and when somebody says 20 minutes you should at least double the time. This has taught me new aspects of myself: I have almost endless patience when it comes to waiting. I guess I should thank my brothers for this as they have very Zambian time concept.
There are some exceptions to my patience though: My 8 o'clock communication skills class is a nightmare. First, I have to get up very early to make it to work before 8, and then the students come very late. By 8.30 maybe a half of the students has arrived. It makes teaching next to impossible.
Patience isn't always such a good thing either. It took over 1,5 months from me to get my work permit. I'm sure that if I had had less patience, the process would've been faster.
I get annoyed with waiting also if it seems that I cannot make it home before it gets dark. That is one of the things that I've found most difficult to get used to: it's not safe to walk alone after dark. (This is not a general rule of Lusaka though, there are areas where also a white girl can walk safely in the evening, but Kamwala South is just too quiet.) I've had someone escort me when I've gone home as late as 8 o'clock in the evening. It's also annoying when I know that it means that my friend spends extra two hours traveling with minibuses just to make sure that I got home safely.
On more technical issues, I was thinking what would I choose if I could have one thing fixed here to make my life more comfortable. Would I choose running water, washing machine, indoor toilet, no power cuts, internet connection or something else? (Actually having reliable running water would fix most of the problems. For the moment, having an indoor toilet or a washing machine would be rather pointless when you cannot count on having water all the time.) In the end, I came to the conclusion that I would choose a functioning waste management system. At home, waste “management” means that we dump all the garbage across the road. At work, it's chucked in the backyard.
The lack of waste management annoys me in several ways. It means that there is trash just about everywhere. The trash is burnt regularly, and walking through the smoke that comes from burning plastic is not one of my favorite things to do. It makes me also feel guilty for everything I buy - particularly for bottled water - because I know where the empty bottles end up. It also feels like a personal insult for me as an engineer. This country has numerous problems that are really difficult to solve. However, waste management is plain logistics so it shouldn't be such a difficult problem to solve but it does require money.
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