Canoe Race in Siavonga

I know you’ve all been waiting eagerly over the weekend to hear how it went.

The race consisted of 15 clues, stopping points along the way from the starting point on an empty beach several kilometers down the lake shore to the finish line at our lodge, Eagle’s Rest. Each stop was worth a different amount of points. Rowing a figure 8 around 2 large rocks in the water known as “the pimples” was worth more points than running to the bar at Lake Kariba Inns with a large fish tank. Sometimes we had to figure out clues and aquire things, like buying a smoked fish, or picking up a stone off an island. At the end, they put together our finish times and the cumulative number of points to declare the winner.

The press boats followed us the whole way. That’s right, representatives from ZNBC, Radio Phoenix and various newspapers were there the whole way to watch and record the whole thing. I’m famous now in Zambia. People are stopping me in the streets saying, “You’re that chick from the canoe race!”

Okay, not really. But it is going to be broadcast on TV tomorrow morning and again on Friday evening.

The winning team was a team of three locals who have essentially been rowing for their entire lives. They crushed everyone and won by 20 minutes or so. But coming up into second were my two supervisors, Steph and Jennie, who rowed amazingly well and solidly beat the Fogarty intern Jen and her husband Ben, who we affectionately refer to as “The Bionic Couple.” (In any given conversation with them, you might hear something like, “Dude, that time I did the 24 hour triathlon on Palau, I was totally stoked!”)

Well, I didn’t come in 1^st or 2^nd or even 3^rd, but 13 isn’t bad considering we capsized about 2/3 of the way through the race and lost our clue sheet and the smoked fish. At least we didn’t come in last. Perhaps it was appropriate that we were team “Capital Fisheries.” It seems that we were embracing the spirit of the water. Although from looking at the jazzy shirts they gave our team (see picture), they might have thought we were going to a golf tournament instead.

Other than the race, there was plenty of time for rest and relaxation. Siavonga does not have the advantage of elevation like Lusaka does. It was HOT. The bright sun and intense heat had us all awake by 6 am each day. I think I spent more time in the water this weekend than I did sleeping or eating. But when I was sleeping, I got to sleep on a houseboat, on a bed on the upper deck outside, with just a mosquito net between me and the breeze off the lake, which was pretty darn neat.

The evening after the race, we had dinner and an awards ceremony at a different hotel in town, one that had also sponsored a team in the race. It felt a bit like the Club Med experience I never had, and certainly like nothing I’ve experienced in Zambia. We ate dinner by the swimming pool, large grill with fresh fish, reggae music blaring, surrounded by palm trees, with the waves of Lake Kariba crashing in the darkness below us. There was a definite vacation/holiday spirit, with people dressed up, dancing. I could almost imagine it was a seaside town. Something I’ve definitely been missing in this landlocked country. Post dinner dancing turned into people being hot, which turned into some of the guys jumping in the pool in boxer shorts, which turned into more people being pulled into the pool in their clothes, which became an in-pool clothed dance party, as we listened to a live performance from Crisis, “the best rapper in Zambia,” or so he says. With lyrics like, Damn look at your body lookin’ all blown out, nice titties, beautiful eyes and nice thighs I can really see what he’s talking about.

Like many resort towns by the water though, move a little away from the hotels and it’s a different world. It felt much more like the little villages we passed on the three hour drive south from Lusaka. The cinder block homes, some with thatched roofs, look particularly inadequate compared with the fancy lodges, inns and hotels across the road. The landscape down there is generally brown, dusty, dry, steep hills with patches of green desert plants. The lake makes it humid. Despite the beauty right on the lake, the combination of the heat, dusty hills and humidity would definitely lower it on the list of places I would want to live.

Despite the heat, it was still an enjoyable weekend and as always, when I leave Lusaka for the weekend, I wasn’t particularly in a rush to come back. But compared to the heat over the weekend, Lusaka felt delightfully cool when we returned.

Next Conservation Society Event: A James Bond movie premier gala evening.

Canoe Race for Wildlife & Environmental Conservation Society of Zambia

It's going to be a fun weekend...

http://www.siavonga-zambia.com/newsandevents.htm

Not only is CIDRZ representing with 12 teams, that's 24 people participating in the race/scavenger hunt, but it's going to be on national TV! And viewers will be able to text in to support which team they think will win. I don't know if there will be any footage online, but if you are so inclined, take a look around the ZNBC website or the Radio Phoenix website. The only catch is having to advertise our respective teams' corporate sponsors. I might be representing something like Barclays Bank, or perhaps Total Petrol or even better, Zambeef. But at least they're putting their money towards a good cause.

Weekend summary and pictures to come on Monday. A winner's trophy perhaps?

Integration Implementation and Lusaka Loves Obama

After months of planning, it has begun. As the doors of Bauleni Health Center opened on Monday morning, there was no longer separate ART and OPD departments. There is just the integrated OPD clinic. 3 days in, it’s going surprisingly well. Even on Monday morning, Steph and I left the clinic by 11 am, because there was nothing to do, they didn’t need our help, they had it all under control. In the first three days of operation, Bauleni is at a point that it took Ng’ombe at least a month to reach after they integrated in July. Everybody who works at Bauleni knows where they are supposed to be and what they are supposed to be doing. The waiting area is quiet and orderly. Every patient is having vitals taken. Every patient is being offered HIV testing. Every patient is being seen by a clinician. On day 1, already, an inspiring story about the integrated system improving clinical outcomes:

One feature of the integrated clinic is that every patient who comes to the clinic is offered the opportunity to get an HIV test, every time. Because the national HIV rate is close to 20%, and even higher in Lusaka, knowing somebody’s status is essential to correctly diagnosing them when they present with certain symptoms. On Monday, a healthy appearing young woman and her 3-year-old son were offered (now) routine testing. She had come to clinic because her son had passed a worm in his stool but his health history (and hers) was otherwise unremarkable. She agreed to test, with a why-not- it’s-just-part-of-my-visit-now kind of attitude.

I’m not sure that she was expecting the positive result for both her and her son. From what my colleague Julian tells me, she took it surprisingly well. In fact, while most patients who receive a positive test result usually take some time to absorb the news and return for enrollment in the ART program, she calmly asked, “Well, what do I need to do next?” and then went directly to the enrollment room.

And there it is, our integrated clinic identified two HIV+ people who may otherwise have not been diagnosed until much further on in their disease, when they began to be symptomatic. Will this improve clinical outcomes? We believe it will.

On a totally unrelated note, there were an amazing number of tired Zambians this morning, even more tired than I was. While I only woke up at 4:30 am to catch up on election returns, many Zambians I spoke with had stayed up all night long watching. This morning, at work, on the van, at the clinic, there was a palpable excitement in the air. If there was any discontent in this country about their own election outcomes just days ago, this one certainly left everyone a bit happier. When CNN showed clips of the election party happening in Kenya, they could have just as easily turned the camera to O’Hagan’s Irish Pub here and seen just as wild a celebration. Indeed, it is a happy day in Lusaka.

And the winner is...

Banda, by about 30,000 votes. Forget waiting two months after election for inauguration, Banda was sworn less than two hours after the official annoucement of election results, complete with visiting heads of state, fighter jets flying in formation overhead (the entire Zambian airforce?) and a 21 gun salute that we could hear from our second Stitch n' Bitch Lusaka over in the Showgrounds yesterday.

The results were somewhat surprising, if only because Sata was ahead for a good 2/3 of the counting process. Was there vote rigging? A lot of Lusaka residents think so. But who really knows. Despite his promises to incite violence if he lost, Sata hasn't and things here have been surprisingly quiet. This morning, the workday went as usual, the CIDRZ nurses went out to the clinics, CIDRZ transport got us all there the normal way, and driving through the neighborhoods was like driving through on any other day. It seems that even if people aren't happy about the results, they are accepting. Much in the way that even if they didn't like Mwanawasa, they were respectful of him, in his sickness, in his death, and in his mourning.

It might also help that people here are looking forward to the US elections tomorrow. Everywhere I go, people ask me about Obama. O'Hagans, the Irish pub here, is even having an all night party and breakfast on Wednesday to watch election results. If Obama was running for president of Zambia, he would win by a landslide.

Election Update

Elections were held Thursday. In anticipation of any potential civil unrest, we got off from work Thursday and Friday. Things here are still quiet though. The votes are making their way in from around the country to be counted, but there hasn't been a winner announced yet. Once again, the public access quality of the national TV station ZNBC keeps me laughing. Yesterday they had a very serious report from election headquarters, explaining how results from polling stations were being faxed in from around the country, how results were "pouring" in. The camera then pans to a line of fax machines, and every once in a while, one sheet of paper would come slowly through the outlet. Then they talk about these women whose job it is to sort through and verify, and they show some heavyset women sitting right next to the fax machines, picking up the papers from the outlet baskets and putting them into piles. Very official I tell you. Those reports are then intermingled with specially made music videos of Zambian men and women dancing outside various government buildings, singing about the wonderfullness of Zambia. It's enough entertainment to keep you going through the days and days it takes to count all the votes, should you want to watch election coverage for that long.

We probably won't know who the next president is until Sunday or Monday. To keep you occupied until they announce the winner, instead of ZNBC election coverage, you can enjoy my pictures from Busanga that just went up. Click on the pictures link to the right. Enjoy!

A weekend on the Busanga Plains

(Just a note about pictures on picasa, I'll upload the who lot from the trip as soon as I can, internet has been a bit slow, hopefully I can get into the office this weekend and just let 'em all go up. But for now, here's a few to go with my entry...)

Life on safari is a different pace. It accommodates, and sometimes even takes the shape of, the lives of the animals themselves. When they wake, we wake. When they eat, we go to watch. When they laze in the midday sun, we laze. And eat, and eat, and eat. Now that I’m a safari lodge expert, having stayed at two different lodges, I’ve realized that the formula is always the same: Wake at 6 am, morning game drive at 6:30, return around 10:30, brunch/lunch at 11, nap and relax, small afternoon snack and tea at 4, afternoon game drive at 4:30, including sundown drinks halfway through, usually on some hill overlooking a hippo pool, or herds of puku and lichwe, candlelit dinner at 8, sit by the campfire till you can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Life on safari is difficult I tell you.

As I walked through the front door of my house after returning from the airport on Monday afternoon, it felt odd to be inside. I realized that since I stepped off our tiny 6-seat charter plane on Thursday (we flew with Fly Mission, a charity organization that runs mission hospitals in the bush), I had not been inside since.

After a bit of a turbulent plane ride, as well as landing first at the wrong airstrip and being redirected to another, Rodney was waiting at Lufupa Airstrip for us. I could not have been happier or more excited to see him smiling and waving from the safari truck, our long awaited trip to the Busanga Plains had begun.

Kafue National Park itself is giant, about the size of Israel. the Busanga Plains are situated in the northwest corner, just a tiny piece and yet the plains feel vast. The flatness of it all puts the horizon at kilometers and kilometers away. Distances there can be deceiving. What seems like it should be a short walk can turn into an hour long journey, especially while trying to walk across uneven surfaces of trampled grasses and undulating mud hills shaped by the forces of water. These are the flood plains, and for many months of the year, completely under water. It is only during the dry season that we get the opportunity to visit the plains at all.

The nice thing about driving through Kafue National Park is that even if you’re not on an official “game drive,” even if you’re just driving to a destination, there are still animals to be seen. Our three-hour drive north through the forest and to the Busanga Plains included elephants, various types of antelope like puku, lechwe, kudu and oribis, in addition to countless birds. We drank beer and watched the sunset along a bend in the Lufupa River known as Crocodile Corner. In the darkness, it began to rain, the first heavy rain of the season on the plains. It made for an interesting final hour of the drive to the Plains Camp, in an open safari vehicle with only a canvas top. The glowing kerosene lamps of the camp in the distance welcomed us out of the wetness, to our home for the coming few days.

http://www.mukambi.com/?section=busangaplains

The camp itself is situated on an island. It’s not really an island as you would imagine it. In the dry season, sometimes it’s just a narrow, deepish, damp ditch separating it from the land around it. Nevertheless, once the rains begins, the water can surround it fairly quickly and so there is a long footbridge, a boardwalk of sorts, to get across to camp from where the vehicles park. The camp is delightfully small and intimate, with only four sleeping tents as well as the dining area. When I say tent, I mean a large safari tent with an additional canopy over it, complete with rugs, wooden four-poster beds, cushioned chairs and canvas- draped armoires. The bathrooms are found down bamboo-lined walkways, toilets and sinks with real plumbing, paradoxically outside. Sit on the toilet, brush your teeth, take a shower and watch the antelope graze in the distance. The dining area is a canopied deck overlooking the picturesque plains and two fig trees. There’s a bookcase tucked into the corner, built from an old wooden dugout canoe turned on its side with shelves added. There are books on wildlife, issues of Africa Geographic magazine, books by local authors.

On our first evening, in the dark, in the rain, I could not appreciate any of this. But there was candlelight, and wine, and good food, and friends, and laughing late into the night. I slept well.

Over the next four days, I went on several game drives and saw countless animals. The animals up and about on the morning drive can sometimes be completely different than those you start to notice at twilight. There are numerous types of antelope- puku, kudu, impala, lichwe, roan, and oribis. At first they are exciting to see, but soon become so common that you hardly notice them at all. It was interesting to learn the distinguishing features of each though. We saw crocs and hippos and elephants. We saw civets, ganets, and the elusive honey badger. Wildebeest, zebras, warthogs, bushbucks, waterbucks and my favorite name, the Lichtenstein Hartebeest. We saw countless, numerous birds, an ornithologists dream, I wish I could remember them all, but they include cattle egrots, saddle billed storks, kites, secretary birds, African fishing eagles, vultures, guineafowl, wattled cranes, crowned cranes, dikkops, grass owls, the lilac breasted roller, the cinnamon roller and honey guide. I think my favorite name is the Francolin. After a while, it was fun starting to combine names, like the scarlet breasted warbling cinnamon roll. An interesting fact about several of these birds is that they mate for life.

But the highlight of the animal viewing was the lions, especially since I hadn’t seen any on my last trip to Kafue National Park. There are two prides living in the area of the plains camp, the Busanga pride and the Papyrus pride. From Rodney’s stories, we had already heard that the Papyrus pride of six lions has taken a liking to the plains camp and visits fairly often. He’s even come to his tent on occasion to find them waiting for him by the door. This weekend was no exception. We were lucky enough to have many encounters with the lions, some perhaps a little closer than we expected.

The first encounter was at twilight, we passed another game vehicle who told us where to find them, and we came upon them lazing in the grass, cuddling and playing and rolling on their backs. In that setting, you can almost imagine them as large housecats, they certainly act that same way. In the safari vehicle, we could get fairly close, perhaps about 15 ft or so. They don’t have much reason to bother us if we don’t bother them. We all sat in silence for quite some time just watching.

The next evening, we again went looking for them at twilight, but we couldn’t find them. As true darkness set in and dinner time neared, we decided to give up our search and head back to camp. As we approached the road leading up to camp, there she was, in our headlights, the lioness sitting solidly in the middle of the road, blocking our way. Where there is one, there are more. Some quick assessment of the situation with the help of our spotlight identified the other five lions, off to the left, almost lined up single file, each further back into the field than the one before it. It seemed we had interrupted some lichwe stalking. Sometimes it can take them hours to situate themselves around a target, use one of them as a decoy and create a trap for some unsuspecting animal, about to be dinner. The lioness leading the hunt looked at us for a long time, then began to make some low grunting noises and stalked off to the right, then back, around the vehicle. Was she hunting us? Or just moving along? The other lions followed her, slowly, deliberately, taking time to plop down, rest, wrestle, play. We continued to count them. Six lions in sight. Six lions in sight. Eventually, after what seemed like a long time but was probably less than half an hour, our road block had cleared and we returned to camp.

As we were sitting down to dinner, they announced that the lions had been seen stalking across the footbridge towards camp. They were somewhere on the island. This would definitely be a good night to make sure you get an escort from the dining area back to your tent. The thought was there, but not at the forefront of my mind. A much anticipated dinner came, we dined, we enjoyed. As we were finishing dessert, Rodney suddenly raised his hand, shushed us all, and pointed a flashlight off the deck towards the campfire pit. There, less than 10 ft from the deck, was a lioness with several others not far behind her. In the distance, to the far side of the deck, our flashlights revealed a lichwe. It seems we interrupted yet another stalking/hunting session. She gave a decided growl and almost a mock charge, which sent several of us leaping further back into the dining area. It certainly gave me a bit of a rush. But I couldn’t have expected its effect on some of the other guests. A large, long-haired, older German woman with a boisterous, in your face personality, who had lived in Zambia for 40 years and was an old hat at safaris, sat hushed and dazed- looking in her chair, puffing away at a cigarette, tightly holding the hand of her small, mild-mannered Zambian husband.

After having most decidedly established their dominance, the lions didn’t stay long. They soon wandered away from the dining area, toward the sleeping tents and then around to the other side of camp, in search of another target. Minutes later, the staff reported the lions once again crossing over the bridge, leaving the island. This was not to be the last encounter however.

A couple hours later, Sarah K., Rodney and I were sitting by the glowing campfire, chatting, taking in the fabulous starry sky. Most of the camp had already gone to sleep. Quite suddenly, we heard a low grunting and a rustling in the grass. As had seemed to become the formula for the day, Rodney turned on the flashlight and there she was, the lioness in the grass, probably less than 20 ft away, watching us. “Alright,” he said, fairly matter-of-factly, “get over to the deck.” In one synchronized motion, Sarah and I were over and up onto the deck in about two large leaps. The lioness didn’t come any closer. Sarah and I sat crouched on the deck, recovering our breaths. In the light from the flashlight, she turned slowly and stalked away once again, back around the camp and presumably, off the island. That was the last we saw of the Papyrus pride for the night.

As we packed our bags on Sunday, with a strong wind blowing in across the plains, shaking our tent (Oooooooooklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plains…), it felt too soon to be leaving. None of us were excited to head back to the smog and traffic of Lusaka. Somehow, through the wonders of spotty email access and miscommunication, we got our wish. We were meant to fly out of an airstrip that was closer to our camp, but the message never got through to the pilot. After nearly an hour and a half of waiting with no planes in sight, it seemed that our ride wasn’t coming. And if fact, as we found out later, once again, the pilot went to the wrong airstrip. I can’t say any of us were too disappointed to turn around, drive back through the forest and once again see the glowing kerosene lamps of the camp welcome us back to our home on the plains for one more night. So I had another chance to sleep in an amazingly comfortable bed, in a beautiful tent, under a marvelous night sky overflowing with stars, with the whistling wind lulling me to sleep. One more chance to brush my teeth while watching the grazing puku. It’s times like that when I think I should just go open a bed and breakfast somewhere far away and fabulous.

Alas, this time we managed to meet our pilot, and return to Lusaka, and come back to real life. Seems as if HIV and TB hasn’t really become a problem yet among the lions of the Busanga plains. But if it ever does, you better believe I’ll be one of the first people out there ready to lead any public health initiatives they may come up with.

Some Tuku, a bike ride, a book shop and a Stitch n’ Bitch

After three months here, my weeks have become routine and sometimes my weekends feel that way too. Sleeping late, ultimate frisbee, lounging by the pool, out to dinner, get togethers and potlucks, movies, big weekly food shopping at Shoprite. With limited forms of transportation, limited funds, and limited things to do in Lusaka, it’s hard to switch things up too much. But this weekend, with a little creativity, we managed to make it feel totally different.

It started off with a concert at the International School, given by the great Oliver “Tuku” Mtukudzi, a musician from Zimbabwe who sings Shona music. I can’t remember the last time I heard music performed in a high school gym, but it was easy to forget the setting when they finally came on stage. It was a night of clapping and dancing and fabulous music, late into the night.

Mary is an older, White, British woman who owns a house and property a bit outside of town, to the southeast, way down (and up!) Leopard’s Hill. From the entrance to her driveway at the top of the hill, indicated by the simple, hand-painted sign, you can just make out the two “skyscrapers” of Lusaka far off in the distance. They seem delightfully far away. This lovely, shaded, verdant piece of land is not only her home, but home to Mary’s Book Shop as well. She specializes in selling used books out of a large shipping container turned into a walk in book display area. Her range of books would amaze you. From historical classics to dime store mysteries, travel guides 15 years old to poetry anthologies, cook books, how-to guides, recent New York Times bestsellers, even old Jane Fonda exercise VHSs. I found a book about “Modern Israel” published in 1965. She also throws in the occasional new/unused book and novelty items. The Christmas season has begun, as I’m sure it has back in the states, and Mary had a full line of traditional holiday crackers (those large, paper wrapped, cardboard candy looking things with surprise toys inside) direct from England.

We wanted to get some books as a gift for Rodney and for the guest library at the Busanga Plains Camp we’re going to visit, and so it seemed like a good excuse for a visit to Mary’s and a nice long bike ride to get there. The physical distance from our house is probably not that many miles, but riding on a heavy, squeaky, partially-broken-gear Zambike, on the rough unevenness of the side of the road, alongside trucks chocking thick smoke, first through the craziness of Kalingalinga and then over the many hills of Leopards Hill (clearly misnamed), under the intense midday sun, it made for a good 1.5 hour adventure.

But we made it. The little signpost, the tree lined driveway and the little children selling bunches of flowers could not have been a more welcoming sight. In order to get to the actual shipping container/book shop, you must first walk through a tented, seating area, nestled alongside a grove, where old, white, expat couples sip tea and eat little cakes and biscuits. The whole setting felt so decidedly un-Zambian, I really had to remind myself where I was. Perhaps we stuck out just a bit in our sweaty athletic clothes and bike helmets. For most people, this is a leisurely weekend drive. If nothing else, they were impressed with our hard work to get there. “Where did you bike from?!”

Two hours later, stomachs full of our brown-bag lunches and Mary’s chocolate cake, bags full of books, feeling much revived, we ventured back the other way. The ride home was definitely easier. The good part about having gone slightly uphill the entire way out there was getting to go slightly downhill on the way home. The only adventure on the way home was attempting to buy bottles of water from the roadside shop, which turned out to be a bar, with many Zambian men hanging about who apparently started happy hour at least 6 hours early. It really got me thinking and wondering about mental health services and rates of alcoholism here, but that’s a discussion for another time.

This weekend also marked the first ever Stitch N’ Bitch Lusaka. What is a Stitch N’ Bitch you ask? Imagine those old groups in small towns, when women would sit around and quilt together, late into the evenings, away from their husbands. Now move that outside, to an Italian restaurant by edge of the polo fields. The women are younger. Most of them are knitting, but there was needle point and even some quilting too. They’re all sipping cold drinks under the hot sun, like iced coffee, beer, and pina coladas. And they just happen to be in Lusaka, Zambia. But no matter where it is, stiching and bitching will always be the same. I’ve learned how to knit. I finished my very first project, an iPod cozy, something no iPod should be without.

Amazingly, we are already halfway through this week. Friday is a holiday, Independence Day. Tomorrow we leave for our long awaited safari to the Busanga Plains. I can't wait!