Malawi 2: The Lake

Cliff jumping at Nkhata Bay
Puppy on Chizimulu Island
Island children
The witch doctor and me
The cathedral

October 15, 2009

On October 2nd Mark headed back to Livingstone while I headed to the ferry dock with Art; a Peace Corps volunteer staying at Venice Beach who had just finished his work in South Africa. After first buying a second-class ticket for the Ilala Ferry I was persuaded to upgrade to the first-class deck ticket for the day and half journey to the islands.

The Ilala consists of three levels. The lower level is comprised of the second and third class passengers. There are men, mothers and children strewn out amongst the crates and barrels of produce and building supplies. It is a lot cheaper but is crowded, dirty and there is a real chance of theft. The middle level contains the cabins, a bathroom for use by first class passengers, a dining room as well as some crew lodging.

The top deck was very empty. There were approximately ten or so Mzungus plus a few well to do locals. A canvas covers half of the deck giving much needed shade. There is a bar that offers cold soda and beer and sells biscuits for a very reasonable price. They bring around a menu and take our breakfast, lunch and dinner orders all of which cost around $4. Mattresses may also be rented for $2 and can be used to sleep on the deck under the stars.

James, a medical student that just completed a medical rotation in Tanzania, Tyse, a backpacker who works with state of the art communications technology, Art and I hit it off instantly and spent the two days playing cards, drinking Carlsberg and telling stories about our travels. Art in particular had some interesting tales to tell including how to slaughter a cow and the usefulness of buckets and paper plates in relation to human waste. There were also a group of Spaniards on the deck and two Finish guys named Eli and Elikah.

We reached Chizumulu around 7:30 pm on Saturday night. Eli had approximately the same travel plans that I did and disembarked with me. Despite the fact that the place we stayed at did not have any running water and the electricity went off every night at 10 pm, it was very relaxing. I spent most of my time reading and playing a local Malawian game called Bow. On Sunday I took a walk around the island and met a local named George that invited me to come visit his family. He also introduced me to the boat maker and attempted to teach me some Chichewa, the local language.

Monday morning Eli and I walked to the other side of the island to catch the Dow that runs between Chizimulu and Likoma only to find out that it was not running that day. We trudged back over to Wakwenda Retreat to wait for the motorboat that would be coming that afternoon. It was crowded and hot but we figured it would be a short hour or hour and half ride between the islands. False. We stopped at three different ports on the islands before we finally got off at the fourth four hours later. A taxi had been arranged for us and we rode in the back of a pickup truck to Mango Drift. They didn’t have any dinner left for us but the showers were lovely and the beds were quite nice.

The next morning I woke up early and sat in the hammock and read. Eli joined me around 8 am and we went out to explore the island. First stop: the witch doctor. When we reached his compound we were required to take off our shoes. We then carried a stick in our left hands across the yard and gave it through a tree to a young girl. We then sat outside waiting, watching the monkey they had tethered to a pole and after a while we were invited inside.

The room had mats set out on the floor and Eli, our translator and I sat down in the front row. The doctor sat behind a pulpit on a strangely decorated stage. There were hospital signs as well as signs proclaiming that God is Love and God is Great. A pile of animal furs were heaped on the rafters and in front of the doctor was a bed with incense burning before it. Above the doctor’s head hung a picture of Jesus as the good shepherd. The doctor himself was dressed in black priestly clothing. What hair he had was kept long and in dread locks.

Many other people joined us in the room and the ceremony began with chanting and singing. He then took some time to explain to Eli and me how he had come to be a witch doctor. When he was young he was cursed by someone and was forced to drop out of school early. He got his knowledge of the plant and herbal remedies he used from the spirits but believed that it was only through the power of God (the Christian God) that people were healed. It’s a strange mix of traditional and Christian culture.

He then presented some cases of people he had healed. A young boy came limping forward that was completely unable to walk when he arrived. He also introduced us to a young woman who had been told she would lose her leg. He proclaimed her healed but she still had two giant sores on her foot. The rest of the ceremony consisted of a group of women giving thanks to the doctor for what he had done for them. They presented him with a chicken and basket of food. Singing and chanting ensued and a white powder was rubbed all over the doctor’s and the woman’s face.

Eli and I were then given a chance to take pictures with the doctor and since he is a very short man the people in attendance got a big laugh out of this. Eli then consulted the witch doctor on a problem he was having with his nose. He was given some white powder to snort and told to come back with some face lotion so that the rest of the powder could be mixed in with it. This would cost $20. If Eli were a black man he would have gotten piercings in his eyebrows where the medication could be injected directly. We left as soon after that as we could and headed to the other side of the island.

There is a large Cathedral on Likoma Island. In fact it is the second largest in Africa. The tall stone walls were built in 1905 and the newer tin roof was put over top in the 1980’s. The stained glass is dull and half missing but the church is in use and is generally well taken care of.

We explored town a bit longer and then headed back toward Mango Drift. The children we passed asked us for all sorts of things like water bottles, pictures and our addresses. My favorite, however, is when they held at their hands and said “give me my money” like you had stolen it from them.

On Wednesday morning we headed back to the mainland. We took the motorboat again although it was far less crowded this time. Empty soda bottles and items that would be sold at the markets in Nkhata Bay replaced the building supplies, full soda bottles and food products needed to supply the islands. It was a miserable seven-hour journey due to the sun and the fact that my stomach was cramping up again but we made it to the Bay before dark and walked over to Myoka Village Backpackers.

The next few days were possibly the most fun I’ve ever had. I met some really great people and there was so much to do. I went swimming the first morning and we took the rowboat out in the afternoon over to a beach to go snorkeling. That night we drank, told travel stories, danced and played pool. The staff at Myoka kept the music going all night and could be found dancing around the pool table, behind the bar and on top of the bar.

The next day we went on a boat trip to another beach. We fed some fish eagles, jumped off of a small cliff, snorkeled and played some beach games including volleyball. That night they had a giant BBQ buffet set out with steak kabobs, BBQ chicken, sweet potato fries, homemade garlic bread, vegetables and peanut sauce!

I met a fellow traveler, Graham that was going to Zambia the next morning and offered me a ride in the back of his pickup. I debated and then decided that it would be cheaper and I would get to Chipata much faster. The next morning we were on the road by 9 am and reached the border at 2 pm. Graham drove around Chipata until we found the bus depot and dropped me a resthouse about a block away. I spent that night reading and was on the 5 am bus out to Lusaka the next morning. I got duped again by the bus boys but got back to Livingstone by 10:30 pm. I even got to watch some interesting Nigerian movies on the way.

Overall my trip to Malawi was fantastic. I met a lot of amazing people and did some very unique things. My opinions about what is “nice” have changed considerably in regards to transportation, lodging and food and, like most westerners that come to Africa, I have learned about patience. The people of Malawi are among the friendliest in the world and most places I traveled were virtually crime free. But it is nice to be back in Livingstone again and get back into the projects. I’ve only got two weeks left here and I plan on making the most of it. Hope all is well back home!

Malawi 1: Mt. Mulanje

Venice Beach Backpackers
Bicycle taxis
Mulanje Massif
Top of Sapitwa
Mark and Shanu resting

October 14, 2009

On September 25 Mark and I got on the overnight bus to Lusaka and began the long journey to Malawi. We spent Saturday night in Lilongwe and woke up early Sunday morning to catch the express bus to Blantyre. Unfortunately while looking for the bus an overly enthusiastic chap showed us to a more inexpensive bus that promised to get us there in the same amount of time. It would leave at 8 am and take 4 hours. Unfortunately the bus did not leave until it was full (around 9:30) and after six hours of travel we were still nowhere near Blantyre and since the bus was close to empty we were put on to a different bus. We arrived in a suburb of Blantyre around 5 pm and caught another minibus to Mulanje. I soon learned that this was typical of public transport in Africa.

If you are looking for an authentic African public transport experience there are a few things you need to have in order to qualify:
o A live chicken
o A breastfeeding mother
o Street vendors at your window at every stop
o No less than 25 people in a 15 passenger van
o People getting in and out via the back window
o Must take twice as long as stated time

After two and half days of travel we were ready to climb Mt. Mulanje. Well almost ready. We headed over to Chitakale and stopped by People’s to stock up on food and water for the trek. After that we went to Info Mulanje and hired a guide/porter and planned out our route. We left one bag of stuff at the office and set off up the mountain with our guide Shanu carrying the other bag.

We walked by the tea plantations that surrounded the mountain and up over the rolling foothills. The next bit was quite steep but after about three hours we made it up to the plateau. The Mulanje Massif is comprised of a large plateau region that consists mainly of open prairies and patches of forests. Above this rise twenty majestic peaks the highest of which is Sapitwa, meaning “don’t go there” in the local language. At 3002 meters it is the highest point in Central Africa and we set out to reach the summit. We spent the next three hours trekking across the plateau to the Linchenya Hut. We cooked up some macaroni and cheese and were asleep by 8 pm.

The next morning we woke up early and were hiking by 7 am. The morning was fairly easy and offered some fantastic scenery. We reached the Tuchila Hut around 10:30 am. Originally the plan was to stop off for a half hour lunch break before climbing to the summit. However it started to rain and we were still at the hut at 1 pm. I was a bit concerned that my shoes were not good enough and that the rain may have made things too dangerous but I eventually convinced myself to climb up to at least the first ridge.

It was quite steep and at times I wondered how I would ever get back down but when we reached the top of the first ridge the second ridge didn’t seem very far away. The next bit was my favorite part of the climb, going over and under branches, between rocks and jumping from rock to rock. When we got to the top of the second ridge we could see the summit and I knew I couldn’t stop now. So it was down again, over rocks, through narrow gaps and up until we reached the summit. It was chilly at the top and the cloud cover prevented us from getting a good view but it still felt good to have gotten there. There was a plaque at the top of the summit in honor of a Brazilian man that had died attempting the climb without a guide. Many of the locals believe that the mountain is cursed and will not go near it.

The way down was tricky but we made it back just before dark. A group of 15 Germans had just arrived at the cabin and we settled in for the night. The cabins themselves are very well kept. There is a caretaker present at each that takes care of the cleaning and provides drinkable water and firewood. There are, however, no showers and the only toilets are long drops that don’t have any seats.

The next morning we were up early and started the four-hour hike down to the forestry station. My legs were sore and walking downhill all morning was tough my knees. I was also experiencing stomach cramps but we made it down by 11 am and paid the hut fees. We then wandered into the nearby village to wait for a minibus to take us back to Chitakale. The first one was full and instead of waiting for a second one we decided to take bicycle taxis, which allowed us to take in the breathtaking scenery around the massif.

After picking up the other bag and getting some pizza we got back in a minibus and headed toward Blantyre. We found a bus that said it was going to Monkey Bay and would be there by 6:30 that night. We grabbed a snack and I was going to use the bathroom but it was honestly the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. There were feces all over the floor and women were peeing out in the open by the sinks and the doorway. I got out of there as fast as possible, deciding that I would rather hold it.

The minibus arrived in Mangochi at 8 pm and told us that it was the last stop for the night. We were quite upset. We were used to them lying to us about how long it would take but never about the final destination. The bus driver redeemed himself a little by driving us around until we found a place to stay. He even stopped by his house and showed us his pet monkey. We ended up at the Holiday Inn (not quite US standards) and I took a much needed shower.

The next morning we went to Monkey Bay and checked into Venice Beach Backpackers. We were the only ones staying there and had the beach to ourselves. It was nice to relax after so much climbing and traveling. I even got to help some local girls fish with a mosquito net. We wandered into town later that night to check the ferry prices and get some dinner. It was dark by the time we headed back but it’s a very safe area and the locals were very helpful on pointing us in the right direction.

The next morning Mark was gone before I woke up. He had to get back to Livingstone to work so I would be on my own for the next week. For more about my trip to Malawi stay tuned for Malawi 2: The Lake.

HIV/AIDS: Death and Dying

September 24, 2009

Today we finished our HIV education course. All of the students passed with 80% or better with 6 of the 8 that showed up for the final exam scoring 20/20. Admittedly the test was pretty easy, but I think they still learned a lot. One of the questions that they struggled with was whether or not HIV was a punishment from God. They are a very religious people and believe that all is in accordance to God’s plan.

We had started the class by talking about the proper way to use a condom and since no one else would do it, I ended up demonstrating to the class how to correctly open and put a condom on a practice penis. (I wonder what the Catholic Church thinks about that…) Brave then followed with a very detailed description, which I got a very good video of. We finished off the session with the presentation of certificates and plenty of pictures. I am on strict orders to print these out and send them back so that the women that graduated the course can have a picture of themselves with their teachers.

Although I have seen a lot of sick people since I have been here, I was lucky for the first few months to not have to deal with death. Or at least be oblivious to it. There was one time about three weeks ago where a patient we were supposed to see at home-based care had died the night before, but I did not know the patient so her death had a minimal impact on me.

This past week though it seems to be everywhere. We ran into some women crying in the street this morning at Maramba HBC. I knew that something big had happened since it is very rare that Zambian women, men and even children can be seen crying. It turns out that their older sister had died that morning. At another home-based care this morning, Claudia found out that a patient she had been seeing fairly regularly had died. To top it off a patient that I had seen last week passed away yesterday. He had cancer and had large tumors and sores on his legs. We tended to the sores but there wasn’t much else we could do. He looked sick but not on the verge of dying and the news came as quite a shock to those that had helped with his treatment.

One of the driver’s at the house took the monster truck out this morning to carry the mourners for the funeral of a friend’s son. I’m not sure what an actual funeral is like here but I saw the funeral procession driving through town today. They fill up the back of big trucks and divide up between men and women. Then they drive through town singing songs, but not sad sounding songs, just African songs.

They deal with death a lot more here than we could ever imagine. It’s not just old people that die or the occasional freak accident. It’s children and parents and young men and women that have these horrible diseases. The treatment for HIV/AIDS, TB and malaria have gotten much better in the past years but there are still people we see that don’t have the means to get to the clinic or run out their medication and find out that the clinic has run out as well. To top it all off many of them don’t have enough money to buy the right amount and kinds of food to keep themselves healthy.

Africa is a tough place to visit and to work. It’s an even tougher place to live. I am continuously surprised by the strength of character that the people here show. The projects we are doing have their faults but I hope that we are making a positive impact.

The Devil's Armchair

Edge of the Falls
Jumping into Angel's Pool
Sunset Cruise
Sweet tan/dirt lines
Devil's Armchair

September 19, 2009

Last Saturday a group of fellow volunteers and I headed out to Victoria Falls to swim in the much-heralded Devil’s Pool. Turns out that it costs $50 to see the actual Devil’s pool. The take you across the top of the falls in a boat out to Livingstone Island and you can spend the day seeing the pool and hanging out on top of the falls. We went for a cheaper option. There are local guides that will take you across the falls to the edge of the falls and a pool called the Devil's Armchair (or Angel's Pool).

The guides are actually illegal but will take you out for as little as K10,000 a person (around $2) if you bargain with them. The water is quite low at the moment so crossing the falls is fairly safe. We stopped once on the way to the pool to take pictures near the cliff. The pool itself was a fair size. Earnest, our knowledgeable guide showed us where it was safe to jump in and then took some pictures for us. I jumped in twice and got some sweet action pictures and videos from the edge of the pool.

I spent the rest of the weekend on a sunset cruise, going to mass, relaxing and cleaning my room. The power system here in Livingstone is sketchy at best. When I first got here Thursdays were power cut nights and we would eat and play card games by candlelight until the lights came on again around bedtime. This week however, the power decided to cut out for a few hours on Tuesday and again for four hours on Wednesday. This isn’t a big deal except that I had plans to talk to my dad on Skype. I did eventually get a hold of him on Thursday evening.

On Wednesday Annaleen and I were filmed for a documentary. The film crew was from France and was taping a group traveling across Africa. They wanted to include a bit about what African Impact is doing in the community, so they came by to tape us doing a home-based care visit with a woman named Agnes. I’d seen her a few times before. She is bedridden and paralyzed on her left side due to a stroke a few years ago. The family has been instructed to do exercises to increase her range of motion and circulation and prevent bedsores.

The film crew taped us entering the house, taking Agnes’s vitals, interviewing her and the family to see how she was doing and giving her some medication to help with the pain. They also taped a bit of us walking around the community, interacting with the kids, and interviewed Annaleen. They told Annaleen that they didn’t want an American to do the interview. I guess the French really don’t like us.

I was working in Maramba Clinic yesterday morning. Normally this is a very busy place, but the morning was slow and I spent half of the time reading. About midmorning a ten-year-old boy came in wearing an old man farmer outfit. His ears stuck out under a big-brimmed baseball hat and he wore a plaid, collared, short-sleeve button-up shirt. He had on dark blue pants with a belt and black dress shoes. As I took his vitals I found out that his name was Zefania and that although he seems to be a normal height for his age he weighed only 16 kg, 3 kg lighter than when he came to the clinic last time. He was all skin and bones and seemed shy, although if you smiled at him his slight grin would turn into a big toothy smile. I’m not sure if he had some sort of genetic disease or if he was just really sick and unable to maintain his body weight. It’s hard to see cases like that where the young are so sick and it feels like there’s nothing you can do to help.

The rest of the week has been pretty quiet. Yesterday afternoon I taught the Adult Literacy Class and realized how hard the English language can be. I also realized how much I am not an English teacher. Most of the group went to Jungle Junction this weekend, but I opted to stay back, save some money and prepare for Malawi.

Zimbabwe

Tombi, Tawanda and me
Me and a lion cub
Ostrich
Head wound a few days ago
Head wound right after it happened

September 10, 2009

I have managed to give myself a Harry Potter like scar above my right eye. Although not exactly lightening bolt shaped it is about an inch and a half long and begins at my hairline. I was thinking about doing something different with my hair anyway. Why not bangs?

How did I manage to do this to myself? Fortunately for me I at least have a good story to back it up. Last Friday fourteen other volunteers and I loaded into the monster truck and started the long haul toward Antelope Park. We got as far as Miombo Lodge the first day where we went on a game drive. We saw a giraffe with her baby, an ostrich crossing the road in front of us, and a herd of elephants at the watering hole. That night a group of Zimbabwean dancers came to the lodge to entertain us with their singing, dancing and animal impressions.

After the dancers left I went back to my room for a short bit before heading back over to the campfire. Martin was the only one there but informed me that the rest were over by the huts watching some bull elephants at the watering hole. I joined them on the steps of a small, elevated hut. Four of the elephants finished drinking and continued on their way, but one particularly curious one stayed behind. He had one tusk and was most likely the weakest member of the group since he was drinking last. He knew we were there and turned toward us on numerous occasions, particularly when someone would get up and leave.

Soon only our driver, Chris, and I were left on the steps. A few other people had just left and the elephant had noticed. He took a few steps towards us and started flapping his ears and trumpeting. Chris saw these as warning signs that the elephant was going to charge and took off running. I froze for a second debating what to do. I could stay on the stairs and wait to see what happened. Michelle had told us that the elephant couldn’t distinguish us from the building and would not charge us as long as we stayed on the steps. But at the moment I did not want to stay and find out if that was true.

I jumped off the stairs and took off at full speed. I could see the vertical support column on the other side of the hut and aimed to go just around it. Unfortunately it was quite dark and I didn’t see the horizontal beam that stuck out a foot or so further than the edge of the hut. I hit it. Hard. I stumbled a bit then remembered why I was running. I ran a few more steps and put my hand up to my forehead. I could feel the blood on my hand and running down my face.

Michelle heard me hit the beam, as did many of the other people around the fire. I was soon seated next to the table with a napkin held firmly against the wound. People spread out looking for fellow medical volunteers that may have brought a medical kit with them. I was told that the cut was quite deep but that under the circumstances it would be very difficult to get me to a hospital. The nearest healthcare center was four hours away, it was late at night and travel was difficult.

Luckily, one of the fellow volunteers, Owen, had his first aid kit. He also had a job in a hospital back home and had experience with wound cleaning and stitches. The bleeding had pretty much stopped. Guess I bashed it in a good place and avoided the major arteries. We decided against stitches due to lack of proper equipment and instead closed the wound with steri-strips. I stayed up for another hour or so to make sure that the bleeding was under control and I did not have a concussion.

I slept well and when I woke up the next morning the bandage was clean, the swelling was gone and I did not have a headache. We drove to Antelope Park the next day and set up camp. The original plan was to head to the clinic that day but the wound was doing well and Roy, the coordinator of the lion-breeding project, said he would look at it in the morning. He dealt with wounds like this all the time.

The next morning he took a look at the wound but suggested we go into the clinic to get the steri-strips taken off just in case the wound opened again. Michelle and I went into town while the rest of the group went on elephant rides and saw a lion feeding. We went to a 24-hour clinic in downtown Gweru, which is where Michelle spent a lot of her childhood. The steri-strips came off nicely and the wound was closed. They put a fresh bandage on, gave me some antibiotics and we headed back to camp.

The rest of the time at Antelope Park was spent walking with lion cubs, seeing the lion-breeding program and going on a bush walk where we learned about the medicinal properties of the trees and bushes. I also had a chance to go on an elephant ride. This elephant had one tusk, just like the one we had seen at Miombo, but her name was Tombi and she was a very gentle giant. The elephant behind me kept giving me gifts such as rocks and sticks in exchange for food.

We slept in tents and were cooked three huge meals daily. Monday morning we drove to The Great Zimbabwe Ruins. The drive took about twice as long as expected (over 4 hours) but the ruins were really cool to see. Tuesday we headed back to Victoria Falls. The fifteen of us spent the night at a hostel called Shoestrings and spent the next morning seeing the falls from the Zimbabwean side.

It’s good to be back at the house. My head is healing nicely and it doesn’t hurt. I’m thankful that it wasn’t more serious than it was. All in all it was a very exciting weekend. A special shout out to Russ Peterson. I saw you were a follower of my blog. I have meant to email you. Just haven’t. Well, hope all is well with everyone who is reading this.

The problem with Livingstone

September 3, 2009

This morning I spent the morning doing home-based care in Nakatindi. Nakatindi is among the poorest communities in Livingstone. Instead of the brick houses that are typical in other areas, almost all the homes are built of sticks and clay. Michael, one of the volunteer caregivers, met us at Nakatindi School and we set off into the community. We saw around ten patients, most of who were doing well. Their major complaint was simply a lack of food. As I mentioned earlier, 1 in every 3 people in Livingstone is HIV positive. Once their CD4+ count drops below 300 they are put on anti-retroviral treatment (ARTs). ARTs are supposed to be taken with food. Unfortunately when food is not available and the drugs are taken the patient becomes nauseous. When vomiting occurs, the drugs cannot do their job.

I started asking Michael about his family as we walked back to the school to be picked up. He said that he has six children. The oldest boy completed secondary school but because he cannot find a job, he still lives at home. His oldest daughter completed the 9th grade but is unable to attend school anymore because Michael can’t afford the school fees ($165 a year). His wife sells fish products at the local market and he spends his time volunteering to help his community. Jobs are scarce here especially for those that do not have a good education. The money his wife brings in is spent on food for the next day’s meals. The children eat first and if there is enough left the parents will eat too.

It is hard to comprehend sometimes how little they have. They buy their food with 2500 kwatcha. This is equal to about $0.50. Some healthcare is free. HIV treatment, medication and testing are free as well as Malaria and TB treatments. Children under 5 are seen for free as are people over the age of 65. Any other treatment incurs a clinic fee of 5000 Kw. They also need to have a book to write their medical history, vitals and appointment notes. This costs them 1000 Kw. Transportation to the clinics can also be very difficult. Those that cannot walk must save up money to pay for a taxi. To top it all off, the clinics may refuse to treat the elderly or those that are severely ill.

All of this leads to a lack of quality medical treatment of those that need it the most. Clinics run out of ARTs and TB meds regularly. The waiting rooms are full of people waiting to see the doctor, if there even is a doctor at the clinic. A lot of clinics are staffed with only a few nurses with insufficient training.

I had a discussion today with one of my fellow volunteers. Lately male circumcision has been promoted as a way of preventing the spread of HIV. It sounds like an absurd thing to be promoting when it may cause a decrease in the use of condoms, but it turns out that it can decrease the transmission of HIV by up to 50%. The problem seems to be more in how the clinics are promoting it. It should not be presented as a cure but rather as another preventative measure that should be used in conjunction with other preventative measures like condoms. The other volunteer said that no one should promote male circumcision because the people here are not smart enough to understand the difference between a cure and something that decreases the risk of transmission. I was in favor of telling people the truth and letting them apply the knowledge. Just because these people aren’t educated doesn’t mean they are stupid. And despite everything that they have to deal with here, they are quite a happy bunch of people.

Botswana

Elephant crossing the river
Hippos!
Lion!
Elephants crossing the river behind me
Water pump

August 31, 2009

Last week Mathias and I taught our first of five HIV classes. Topics covered include what HIV/AIDS is, how it attacks the body, how it is and is not spread, condom use, positive living, and treatment options. One of the local African Impact employees, Brave, assists us and translates for those that do not understand English well. I am really excited about this project because Mathias and I will be teaching the class the whole way through and will be able to see the progress the students make and see what information they learn from the course.

Last weekend the group headed out to Chobe National Park in Botswana. We stopped in town to pick up a few supplies and I was surprised by how much more developed Botswana was than Zambia. The roads were paved and free of potholes and the storefronts resembled those of home. While waiting in the monster truck for the rest of the group to get back we saw some warthogs and a random woman decided to stop and pee on the side of our truck. Very strange indeed. Friday night we camped out by the fire and ate a hearty meal of steak, sausage, potatoes and corn on the cob. After dinner we talked around the campfire and then headed to bed early.

Saturday morning we got up at 5, had breakfast and drove out to Chobe National Park. During the morning safari we saw water buffalo, impala, giraffes, an elephant and a lion. There are only twelve lions in the entire park so seeing one was really cool. After brunch back at the campsite we hopped on a boat for a three-hour river cruise. We saw crocodiles and water buffalo. There was a large group of hippos, half of which were grazing on land, which is a very rare sight when it is so hot out. The highlight of the cruise was seeing a heard of male elephants cross the river right in front of us, which is also a very rare sighting.

We got back Saturday night and Sunday was spent relaxing at Zambezi Sun. This morning I took vitals at Dambwa clinic and this afternoon was spent farming at Maramba. It took us about an hour to get the water pump (stair-stepper) working but I had some great conversations with Robbie and Ollie. Next week’s post will be a bit late. We are planning a week-long trip to Zimbabwe, which I will tell you about when I get back.