The beat goes on

In Lusaka again, much to my chagrin. We went to Serenje immigration again and were told that I can extend for a long period of time by applying for a visitors' permit in Lusaka. Carrie was going through Lusaka anyway to go to a training in Chipata, so I tagged along. Got here yesterday evening, fell asleep at the guesthouse then went out for some spectacular Indian food. Today we went to Ministry of Health again for the letter only to find that the guy hadn't even gotten to it in the intervening weeks. After waiting around for several hours I finally got to meet him, only to have him explain that I would have to tackle the issue from the bottom up (the exact opposite of what the people at the bottom of the hierarchy pyramid have been telling me). So first I need the Clinical Officer of Mpelembe clinic to write an offer of employment to the Serenje district head. Then the district head has to write to the medical head of Central province. Then the provincial head has to write to the man I have just spoken to. Then he can approve it. Completely illogical, especially when heard from the mouth of the man who makes the final decision. So I decided to not try and extend my visa expiration, in the hopes that I can get this work permit ironed out by October 21st, thus saving myself 500,000 Kwacha.
Been traveling so much lately it's hard to keep track of what's going on. On the way back to Mpelembe from Serenje one day I nearly got stranded in Chalilo (30 km from Mpelembe). There I had my ear nearly talked off by a well meaning drunk guy. He wants Carrie and I to come to Chalilo to talk to people about how to improve their farming methods (saving seed, compost, etc.) and, he hoped, bring irrigation machinery?? Ha. Anyway, after stating all the points he wished us to discuss, he went on about how he must save his family name, all of the high status position he holds, and how he uses latex gloves to pick his tomotoes. The chief arrived at some point and was giving villagers some wood to burn. I couldn't meet him though, because all I had were some small oranges to offer and meeting him outside of his palace would have been a big social faux pas.
On the way back to Serenje from Mpelembe I was explaining to some people that paying for sex is a bad practice as one could easily catch HIV from prostitutes, when one 12th grader asked in a doubtful tone "is HIV real?". When informed that yes, in fact it was real, and no, you probably won't catch it from silverware, he said he heard that they put HIV on all of the condoms at the condom factory. I was pretty depressed and horrified at the idea of a rumor like that going around in a country where 1 in 5 people have HIV/AIDS. I tried to tell him that the rumor is untrue, and that if he is going to be having sex that he should be using a condom.
In the village all is well except for the Headman's daughter's insane screechings that went on for half an hour one night. When the Headman and his son came over to return a bike, they explained that she was "just washing her eyes - it's normal". The next day when we inquired again, the brother, Charles, provided an even more dubious explanation. She has a demon in her. Unfortunately they very much believe that this is the case. He went on to explain some angels' fall from grace according to the bible, and their present role in disturbing people. He cited how Peg sometimes "talks too much, like she's a little odd" and of course her late night eruption. Ultimately, I think it was a parent's disapproval of her biking alone to Chalilo (perhaps to visit a boy) that sparked the incident. Especially since she took off the next day to Chalilo. Charles also told us about witches and their lack of humanity; thus justifying actions like beating them or burning down their houses. It's a weird world.
We also had a guest from Austria stay over one night. Incidentally, also the same night as the shrieking. His name was Christian (which led to much confusion among the Zambians "so he's a christian?" and "so he's travling to Mansa to go to church?") and he was traveling through Southern Africa to see the sights after having gotten his Master's degree. Pretty cool guy. It was nice to play host to a weary traveler, no doubt chocking up some credits to our Karma account. We even made pancakes with our own chicken's eggs (they were delicious and fluffy, but reduced vanilla-cinnamon-sugar-water is no substitute for real maple syrup [add that to my package wish list!]).
As alluded to, our chickens are both laying eggs. More specifically at a rate of 1.02 eggs per day between the two of them. Usually small, creamy colored and sometimes speckled. We put (as neighbor lady insisted) a basket containing sand in the corner of the hen-house. They seem to like that. For a while they were laying at set times, now they lay randomly. Both chickens caught a cold, but have survived. A chicken with a cold is a pretty pathetic/hilarious thing. They sneeze and have a runny beak. Go on and try to imagine a chicken sneezing, you probably are right on the money. After seeing the neighbor's hen surrounded by a batallion of precious little chicks, we've decided to get yet another chicken, so that we can have enough eggs to eat and raise up some fluffballs of our own.
There was another huge fire started in the "forest" this time. I watched it with that glazed fascination humans have always regarded fire until it started getting too close to the neighbor's property. I quickly jumped into the flammable fray with my fire suppression tree branch in hand, but was unable to save the roof of their pit latrine. At this point the Headman came by, not to help, but to point out that he had told the Mumba family that the firebreak must be 10 meters from the house. The neighbors and I managed to stave off the flame's wrath from encroaching upon the cooking shelter, house, and mango tree fortunately. The chickens got a feast though, as grasshoppers and all other manner of insect were driven from the forest and into their gullets by the fire.
The new bed, or as Carrie calls it "[my] bed", in the garden is flourishing in its fully intercropped glory. Portuguese cabbage leaves as big as your head! Tomato plants growing as though they lived next to a nuclear reactor! Carrie attributes all of this permicultural plenitude to my frequent waterings. We'll see, since Peg is watering the garden at the moment instead of me (hope there are no incidents of demonic possession in the vicinity of the garden). The grasshoppers (as mentioned, newly driven by the blaze) are nibbling the cabbage leaves as fast as their little mandibles can move, but their efforts are overshadowed by the rate of leaf growth. I really have to get around to mulching things though, so that our persistent weeds are suppressed along with the rate of water loss from the soil.
It's hot season now. It gets really hot, even early in the morning, and doesn't cool off much until late into the night. (Sarah, Jamie, are you even reading this!?) Unfortunately this is only the beginning. Fortunately, hot season seems to bring a lot of wind and some cloud cover to Mpelembe. It also brought a brief sprinkle of rain - to which Carrie exclaimed "oh no, the Zambians are going to think it's the apocalypse".
I think I'll go to Chipata with Carrie. It'd be nice to see a new province and new town. Anyway that's all for now. Take care.