Christmas in the Tropics

My very own slacker spiral

It all started with a little additional work stress, too much fun on holiday adventures, and then moving to a new home. All of that added up to a complete disregard for my blog. My apologies to those of you that have faithfully checked it over the past month. I humbly admit I am a bum.

So my very biggest news is that I moved. It wasn't really my first choice, but I've learned, when in Africa, you don't always have a choice. I've been homeless since November. Yep. That's right almost three months without residency. I don't really want to go into details of why, but Peace Corps and I decided that my home wasn't really that safe for me anymore. My wonderful friend Christie graciously offered me her home in the interim, and I began my house hunting.

I have since added house hunting to the ever growing list of things that are much easier in America; its right up there with daily meals at Taco Bell and maintaining sense of dignity. Anyway, there's no Craigs List or online apartment listings or bulletin boards or anything other than hearsay. After about two months of this I started feeling like that little leprechan who knew his lucky charms were somewhere but couldn't ever quite catch them.

I gave up.

I hate admitting it but I just couldn't do it anymore. By January Ginger and I had moved three times, which is not easy on a puppy or me for that matter. A wonderful house, that was promised to me fell through, and it was just the end of the line for my sanity. It didn't help that I had exhausted all of my temporary housing options and I was left with two choices: 1. Sleep in my tent in the yard of a cooperative Adventist or 2. Move 65km to big-city-Blantyre where there was a wealth of housing options and a fabulous job opportunity.

So here I am.... moved from the spiders and the dreaded outhouse, and my fancy counter top and my little garden, into a rooftop apartment with all the comforts and conveniences of America. I'm right back to massive, overwhelming culture shock, but I strongly suspect my hot shower will help to wash that away quite quickly.

Eat your Heart out Anthropologie

As you approach the holidays, and question what to get yourself, or your loved ones, consider these gorgeous bags made by an amazing group of women right here in Malawi.

http://lusolamanja.wordpress.com

I have multiple bags; they hold up great and the patterns are always stunning!

Bye Bye Milo

My sweet kitty, Milo, was put to sleep this morning. I'm so sad I wasn't there to say goodbye. Thank you to everyone who loved her, friends who played with her, and roommates, family, and friends that took care of her.

She was a wonderful cat.

This turkey did NOT come with a pop-up thermometer

Its never easy to describe how different life is over here to you guys. Other volunteers talk about becoming desensitized to the crazy stuff we go through daily. Its true, and it can be difficult to relate to the normalcy of life back home.

Luckily, those familiar things like holidays bring back all the hominess and traditions and snap this crazy world back into focus.

So, here is my first Thanksgiving in Africa Adventure...

First, there was no thought of turkey for dinner. They are large, muscely, expensive, and rare, so that was out. The solution: 4 large fish sold from a man's bike handlebars, one duck that a random villager appeared with, and one chicken.

The chicken was SMF and I's responsibility. So how do you get a Thanksgiving chicken in Africa?? Here's my step-by-step guide.

1. Pick a direction and start walking

2. Tell anyone you see you are looking for a chicken, in Chichewa, of course, which roughly translates to "Tikufuna nkhukhu. Mukuziwa ali kuti?"

3. Eventually villagers will start pouring out of their houses to follow and watch the action.

4. The man who earlier had a school of fish tied to his bike will approach, gesticulate wildly, and indicate that he has a chicken to sell for double the price you are willing to pay.

5. You follow him to his house a kilometer away.

6. He makes you take your shoes off, sit on his mat, meet his entire extended family.

7. He will bring you a bowl with no less than 12 mangoes to eat and knife that looks like a piece of shrapnel from WWII.

8. You will hack at the mango while you watch most of the extended family chase a chicken around and around the yard and into the house.

9. They will tie its legs and start waving it in your face.

10. You patiently explain that you want a "lady" not a "gentleman" chicken while pointing at your chest area to get the point across.

11. More chicken chasing and mango mutilation

12. Argue over price until finally pulling out all your money to prove that's all you have.

13. Walk away proudly with the chicken and 11 mangoes tucked underarm

14. Chop off chicken head (I had nothing to do with steps 14-19)

15. Throw in boiling water

16. Pluck

17. Disembowel

18. Season

19. Cook

20. Enjoy!!

Hope all of you had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Here's to a lifetime of exciting memories and wonderful friends and family to share them with!

It's all in the Game, Game Count that is

All semblance of a social life, real meals, productivity or hygiene activities have all come to a screeching halt. I always was a sucker for crime dramas, and, with the recent introduction of HBO's "The Wire," I've had to re-prioritize my life a little. Locking myself away to shamefully finish all five seasons as fast as possible has proven to be a little difficult in the absence of electricity, but, not to be deterred, I've figured out I can get in about three episodes a day if I haul my computer up to the hospital, make sure its fully charged before hauling it back home, and, if I bring lunch to work, I can furtively close my door at lunch time and get it one more episode.

I have a problem, but I'm going to blame it on my lack of westernized culture and my need to feel connected back home. West Baltimore is practically identical to Decatur, Georgia; right?

Thankfully, I was forced out of my reclusive/obsessive patterns to go to a Game Count. I thought it sounded like a great idea.... Go walking through a Game reserve,(think safari park) and assist the park by counting any animals you may see. This is how it was sold to me. Sounds nice right?

Further probing uncovered that Peace Corps volunteers are led by a lone gunmen/forest ranger as they bushwhack their way across double digit kilometer distances, to try to get really close to animals that are a lot bigger and more territorial than we are. In retrospect, I'm fairly certain we were being used as bait; who else besides Peace Corps volunteers are stupid enough to not only do this, but get put on a waiting list to do this. In fact, if you have more seniority you get to go and count/chase after the more dangerous animals.

So, possibly not such a great idea, but, since moving to Africa, my sense of adventure and need for adrenaline has spiked considerably.

In reality the Game Count was a lot of walking in high heat and humidity, occasionally a glimpse of an antelope-like thingy running away, and a giant splinter in my foot.

To liven up the atmosphere I asked to hold the clipboard; at least then I could pretend I was a lady scientist on a very important scientific exploration. When that fantasy staled, I went back to what I'm most fond of and became a renegade cop who has chasing drug dealers into the heart of the jungle.

It got even better when we happened on a group of "poachers," and surrounded them commando style crawling on the ground, ready to attack, until we realized it was just another group of Peace Corps & Gunman. Good thing I wasn't holding the gun; my crime drama training tells me to shoot first and ask questions later, but that would have been quite a lot of paperwork for poor Peace Corps.

A break from reality

Out of the village and into luxury for my birthday. Hot showers, food not over a campfire, wine, cool temperatures... it was perfection