Bumps in the road

Zambia's President Levy Mwanawasa died a little over a week ago in Paris hospital; as I wrote before he suffered from a stroke and had been recovering up until Tuesday when his condition had worsened overnight and he passed away.

The country is in shock - we are under a 21-day national mourning which means no entertainment, no major celebrations, festivals, etc. People are worried about the economy—foreign investors are being sketchy about the upcoming presidential by-elections after 90 days as the opposition parties could gain popularity and the MMD could potentially fall apart (the party in power now).

The general feeling in Lusaka right now is one of confusion; this is the first time the country has lost a state president - people are sad, praying, uncomfortable. It's what everyone is talking about this week; the local media is all over it and pages of newspapers are filled with condolences.

Since the President's death, things have been a little up and down. I've been sick all week, coming home from a stressful meeting early Monday at work with a fever and sick stomach and after my fourth day of being sick yesterday I finally went to the clinic and they said I have gastric acid ingestion (whatever it's called) and gave me some antacid for me. Basically it feels like someone is yanking around the tubes in my stomach every couple of minutes. Not fun. I wasn't at work the whole week and went for a bit this morning only to find my boss not there and nobody doing anything so I went to immigration to pick up my permit, which was not ready, and am now unsure about where to proceed.

I am going to Livingstone tomorrow with a fellow JHR friend which should take my mind off things - I'm feeling pretty crappy, again, about my placement and just want things to get better but don't have the physical or mental energy to do anything about it right now because of how my body feels.

Declarations of admiration via SMS

Ladies, this post is for you—if you're looking for a man better head over here, because the amount of attention you'll be getting is out of control.

I need to be more judgmental when giving my phone number out to people; what seems like could be a potential friendship tends to end up rather in text messages saying the following from the guys I have met through friends, at shows, at conferences (any place I would normally befriend people). Names are not being written to protect the authors themselves:

"The night is silent but I can't sleep/maybe because I am waiting for my cell phone to beep/Before I dream what I want is to get yo' message and read/"

"Hey I just keep on thinking about u and don't know why/I think I really need to talk to you on a serious note/am sorry to say this but I think am falling for you/coz I keep on thinking of you/plz tell me something/miss yo smile dear."

"I'm enthralled by your beauty/mesmerized by your charisma and spellbound by your love/No wonder I am always thinking about you."

"Hi there just thought of you/cuz da last time I saw you you were tempting/like an ice cream cone on an October afternoon/"

"A smile is a way of writing my thoughts on yo face/telling you dat u r accepted, liked and appreciated/so here is a big smile 4 u/have a nice 2morrow/"

This weekend was probably one of the greatest ones I've had so far here; Friday night I went to a "bri" (bbq) at a friend's place - definitely the best chicken and t-bone I've ever tasted. Drinking along to '90s dance music, eating far too much, meeting too many people whose names I don't remember...was wonderful.
Saturday night was the highlight—some friends, including my new roommate, went to a bar called Break Point, in an area called Kabwata. Two of us were the only muzungu girls at the bar, something we had yet to experience (but have experienced in Montreal believe it or not on St-Laurent...) and we went for a free show where O.C, the Zambian hip-hop artist I interviewed last week was performing along with a ton of other apparently big artists.

All in all, the two of us girls ended up on the stage even though security wasn't letting anyone else pass, I met all of the artists (with names like Petersen, the Don and MKV), tried Shake Shake for the first time (beer that is like porridge...honestly. But it's really good), got hit on by some crazy drunk girl with half-closed eyes (due to her state) and learned how to shake my "African booty" (as my coworkers call it) as best as I could. I still need to learn how to accomplish that. It is a human right to dance after all..isn't it?

Work is still up in the air in regards to how I am feeling about it. Friday could have been great, I have a long meeting with my boss about projects and things he wants me to work on. The problem is that once I leave him and go back to the office, putting things into gear with my colleagues is where it gets tough. They still don't seem to understand what or why I am there even though we all get along really well. This is where it's going to get tough; today I got there and had nothing to do until 1 p.m. because Mondays are production days; so eventually I spoke to two of the guys there and figured out things a little. They noticed I seemed a bit down so the girls and I went out for a quick afternoon break and talked things over.

They want to take me to a salon this week and see what I can get done this week—a friend here got a weave done (not plaits...just extensions) and it looks great. Maybe I want long hair again? Then another one of the girls invited me to her place this weekend where she said she would make me chikanda, African bologna and absolutely delicious, meet her family and hang out.

I also caved and bought some work clothes at a shop, not used. I found trousers (don't call them pants here) and two shirts for around $70 (I think that's the exchange rate now...the kwacha is so shady here, it changes constantly).

Kumyumba (home) and a day in the distro truck

Simon, my flatmate making nshima in the kitchen.

I moved in to my new place on Mberere last Saturday, finally a place to call my own for the next six months. Simon, my flatmate is a Zambian artist who does batik art, paintings, jewelery making and a whole bevy of other curios (he works at a market dubbed the curio market for arts and crafts).

The weekend was chock-full of parties, dinners and loads of fun followed by a Sunday of extreme exhaustion and a slight hung-over state. I seem to be spending far too much time at the malls, more so than I would like, but as I explained before, the malls are the places to be here. Frankly, after getting overcharged 7,000 kwacha for an Irish coffee at Rhapsody's and fighting about it for half an hour, I'll be spending more time elsewhere at places in town.

There is the option to go to Livingstone this weekend but I think I am waiting on that - I still don't feel settled yet. My week at work has been productive - I am taking things day by day and have had meetings with my boss and he has told me that he wants me to revamp the mandate and remodel the editorial policy for the paper; big job over the next six months which will hopefully end in a relaunch of the paper complete with a solid design and logo, as well as a focus on the tag-line of The Monitor which is not communicated at all through the stories that are featured.

Yesterday I spent the morning with Lloyd who takes care of distribution - I went around with him to all the different vendors and found out how they make their money - off commission from selling each paper and they only make 500 kwacha! That means they need to sell at least seven papers a day to make even one dollar Canadian's equivalent. And last week we didn't sell so well because The Post had the same headline as us and everyone would pick up the daily before ours.

The company vehicle on the road for distribution

I feel as though the dynamic at my paper is divided like I was saying - editorial board and then my boss who takes care of business; what puzzles me is that he runs the issue review meetings. We have agreed that I will teach him about the editorial side of newspapers and the basics of journalism since he has the human rights thing down pat; hopefully this will mold the hole that seems to exist.

Meanwhile I love attending press briefings...the free and delicious Zambian food is certainly a huge draw and I'm learning the way of the Zambian economy at the same time.

Face of Redds Fashion Summit

Here is some of the so-called glitz and glamour that battled it out on the catwalk last Saturday at the Face of Redds Fashion Summit. Begin with two of Zambia's self-proclaimed "hottest acts"...

DJ O.C

John Chiti

Face of Redds

It was America's Next Top Model meets the search for the next Molson girl. Saturday night, I attended the Face of Redds fashion summit at Rhapsody's, in the Arcades mall. You wouldn't think you were in Africa - I honestly could have been in downtown Toronto at Milestone's watcing another high profile event (Rhapsody's has a very Milestones-ish feel complete with red illuminated waterfalls and drinks called the "Woo Woo").

With a slogan of, "the secret behind a woman's smile," I wasn't sure what to expect. Amidst the throngs of bikini-clad models (accompanied by cheering and jeering men), followed by cocktail dresses, formalwear, casual outfits and much more, I snapped as many pictures as I could and tried to understand where someone would wear these clothes in a city such as Lusaka, but the creativity from the local designers was certainly impressive.

John Chiti, DJ O.C, and a pair of hip-hop-a-la-cheesy popping twins who I plan on importing back to Canada performed in between each set, switching between singing and lip synching on top of their own tracks, something that is apparently common at live shows here.

Each model is a contestant and had a huge number written in marker pinned to her outfit - very attractive. The finals are in September and we have the next month to vote on which girl we want to be the next "Face of Redds" cider. I've got my number picked out and ready to be SMS'd to the judges. how about you?

I'll try and get some pictures up here soon so you can choose for yourself.