Zambia, Again

My first time in Zambia, about 2 and a half years ago, I spent my time in South Luangwa National Park turning my head left and right, from elephant to lion to zebra, twitching from spending too many hours sitting inside a vehicle. Last year, I went to Zambia again, where I very memorably emptied the contents of my stomach on bus, car and canoe from the Malawian border to Victoria Falls to an island in the Zambezi River and allllll the way back to Lusaka, the capital.

I am back in Lusaka for the Association of International Schools in Africa conference, along with four other teachers and our new director. While my last visits were marked by (other than motion sickness) wildlife spottings of both the intentional and accidental variety, spottings of a disproportionate number of people with disfiguring facial growths and a personal bristling against Zambian aggression (which is apparently relative as coming from Malawi I definitely felt this the first two times, but coming from Lesotho, Zambians don't seem aggressive at all), this time around, I'm much more in conference-land than Zambia-land, with all the powerpoint presentations and over-cooked buffet food that implies.

I've had the chance to run a bit every morning before plenaries, institutes and workshops (which still does not seem to balance out all the sitting I'm being required to do) and I am completely and amazingly ignored by my fellow early-rising pedestrians. Unlike Maseru, it really smells like "Africa" here, which to me means blossoms on trees, burning trash, rotting fruit and fresh dirt. This is all the more noticeable in the early morning, before car exhaust competes with these other scents.

My neighbor and assistant teacher from last year asked me to do her a couple of favors while in Zambia, her country of birth, namely to deposit some money for her into her father's account and to pick up some mopane worms for her (dried caterpillars) to eat. I asked her where to deposit the money, and she said "any bank." Betty does not have a bank account herself and I had to explain to her that it would have to be deposited at the bank in which he has an account. She wrote down all the details for me, and luckily the receptionist at the hotel directed me to a nearby branch. When I asked the teller for a deposit slip, he gave me an eighth of a torn up piece of printer paper. I said, "oh, those, I already have one," and handed him the scrap of looseleaf Betty had given me. I felt a little shady handing over Betty's cash given the circumstances, but the receipt looked legitimate.

Hunting down mopane worms in the city market place was a tougher task. They seem to be out of season. I told Betty before I left that I might not be able to bring worms through customs, and she said, "if you can't bring me caterpillars, get kapenta." Kapenta is a small fish you can buy dried. I explained that if they confiscate caterpillars, I assume they would confiscate fish. My nose found the fish before my eyes did and I promptly decided that I would NOT be transporting them in my duffel bag, tote bag or pockets (sorry Betty!)

The conference itself is not as relevant to early childhood education as I would like, and so far has not been as stimulating and engaging as I found it to be last year. Yesterday morning there was a keynote address by the man who inspired the movie Fly Away Home. Who knows what this has to do with education, but at least the title of the talk did not have a colon in it (ie: Unpacking [Fill in Big Words Here]: The Implications of Big Word and Big Word on Big Word). I have my last workshop tomorrow and the presenter is a singer/storyteller. It lists "laughing" in the handout under what participants will do in the workshop, and you can't go wrong with that.