Mistaken identity

I had originally decided to walk home as the day had been long and stressful but as I reached the half way point I was soaked through with sweat and exhausted in the heat so decided to jump onto the magical blue bus for the last leg. I hand over my two pin and state my destination ‘Zesco’. The conductor asks me to repeat myself. On my third attempt at saying Zesco half the bus join in, but clearly annunciating the word correctly much to everyones merriment. The conductor then tries to tell me I owe him more money, an event which occurs every other day. By now my bus friends jump in and harang him for abusing the poor musungo. I just turned my ipod up and tried to blend in............ These days with the heat rising daily the bus smells more than fruity and the less time you are on it or the bigger distraction the better. I get off the smelly bus a few stops later and begin my 5 minute journey home when a man urinated  behind a tree almost dives out, zipping himself up and says ‘white person, white person, I really do love you’. It was at that precise moment I was inspired to pen my latest blog.

It has been a while since I have written, partly because the cartoon that is my life here becomes more and more normal on a daily basis, I realize this might be hard to believe but it is true. Alongside that a stint of bad health stun gunned me and robbed me of my banter but all is back on track now so I shall update you on life in Lusaka. 

Work is progressing well. Busy as can be with strategies being written, training being carried out and most exciting funders starting to nibble the bait of a (in my opinion) rather exciting and life changing slum project. The other evening I found myself at a water and sanitation night learning about faecal sludge management. I know what you are thinking, free bar, but you are wrong. There was not a drop of alcohol in sight. It was actually a fascinating look at how bad things are here in Lusaka and Zambia that sanitation is not a basic right or indeed something that many people here know enough about to do anything about. One of the speakers actually listed the priorities for spending money in the slum areas: 1. Food – understandable. 2. Alcohol...... no judgment from me. 3. Talktime- as all phones are pay as you go and most Zambians have at least one phone which never leaves their side this was not a shocker for me. 4. A TV. Sanitation is so low down the list I dread to even think what number it is. There is limited to no sewage system here so pit latrines are used. Human waste builds up in this holes and the chaps that empty them are mortified by their jobs so do the work at night, normally drunk. They dig a new hole next to the old one and throw the waste in there. When you think that there are almost no pavements here and the ground is literally the ground this is a disease nightmare. In wet season when everything floods the human waste just floats around spreading infections and diseases. Worst of all is pit latrines collapse and last week 5 kids died in a compound where this happened. Sooooo that makes a night of faecal sludge management and finding solutions cool rather than super sad! 

Other things that have occurred of late include:

1.       An albino coming up to me and saying ‘we are the same, we both have see through skin. You should give me some money’. Now, not normally one to want to distance myself from someone in need I felt a small judgemental panic rise. Albino’s are seen here as magical and particularly in rural areas are killed and their blood, skin and bones used in magical potions. Somewhat more worried about myself than his plight I muttered something and trotted off as swiftly as possible fretting that others might think that I am also albino and kill me. It is a guilt I have been living with since.

2.       I have been used as marketing material on the bus twice in ten days. Bus drivers shouting to potential customers that their bus is the best as they have a musungo on. For once I am delighted they say musungo and not albino...... On one occasion I then asked for a discount as I had only half a seat and the chair in front was broken and had cut my knee. The man said no. 

3.       A bar I frequent now insists that my friend and I come behind the bar to help ourselves as it draws attention and more people come to the bar to buy drinks. He is thinking about implementing ‘Musungo Hour’ where we work behind the bar and drinks prices go up for an hour. I declined.

4.       Drinking laws in Zambia have changed. The government have decide to try and break the vicious circle of those who are unemployed drinking too much and then not looking for new work by tightening the laws. Bars can now not serve beyond 10pm, clubs 3am and to my utter distress supermarkets 7pm. Yes 7pm. The best bit about the scheme, and obviously I not suggesting corruption here at all, is that a bar can pay a fee per hour to stay open longer than the allocated hours. Interesting.....

Next week I am invited to the British High Commissioners for a drinks reception with Princess Anne the VSO patron. Last time I rocked up at James house (the High Commissioner himself) I, along with 27 other VSO members drank his house dry. I am however more focused on the canapés this time. It has been a long time since my palate has enjoyed a canapé and with royalty in attendance I have high hopes. I plan to line the handbag with cling film and hangout near the kitchen door to get the best scoop of snacks. Cheese, real cheese could be an option people. I shall update you on the outcome.