Less than a month left

We’ve spent much of the past year reminiscing about the UK and making top ten lists of things we’re going to eat (mushrooms, Coop apple and cinnamon English muffins), see (Home and Away) and do (a proper pint at a proper pub.) We’re now counting down the last month in Zambia and it’s started to dawn on me that there actually might be things that I miss about Chipata.

Multi-cultural dinner parties. A couple of weeks ago, for instance, we shared the dining room with a young Indian volunteer who’s spent the last month spending literally heaps of Zambian Kwacha on phone calls home to his wife-to-be who he’s yet to meet. Next to him was Amanda, our English housemate and her parents who are in their mid-seventies but look little older than 55. Opposite me sat Denis, a Ugandan VSO who asked me to explain what ‘sleazy’ meant in between mouthfuls of lasagne. Stephen, sat to my right told us how in his clan back home in Uganda a couple must be able to recite five genealogical lineages to ensure that no ‘cross-breeding’ would occur. Alternatively, the President’s clan must marry their first cousin. And then there was me sniffling in the corner (I had a stinking cold) next to an exhausted Henry (he’d been running a conference since 07:30 that morning.)

Buying in-season veg fresh from the market, the tomatoes here taste amazing, really sweet and always a gorgeous scarlet colour which contrast to the oranges which, if not caught just at the right time are bitter and still green. I’ve definitely missed being able to get mushrooms, red peppers or courgettes all year round but there is something really satisfying knowing that you’re eating fruit that fell from a tree outside your living room window or veg that was grown in your neighbour’s garden. And we’re not even here long enough to see another mango season. Ahhhh!

Having the time to cook the fresh veg into something yummy. There’s not much to do in Chipata by means of evening entertainment so we’ve spent many a night trying out new recipes. I’m under no illusions that I will actually keep up this good habit back in the UK what with getting home after six and having Home and Away and the pub to tempt me away from the kitchen.

SarryAnna No matter where you go in Zambia there is always a gaggle of children ready to jump out from nowhere. In our neighbourhood the children are yet to tire of shouting ‘sarryanna, sarryanna, how are you, how are you, where’s Jimmy? Where’s Jimmy’ I definitely won’t miss the shouts of ‘Oi! Mzungu, give me money’ from the adult men but I won’t put up too much of a fight if the children try and jump into my suitcase.

Having our own personal tailor. I spent last Saturday morning rummaging through my wardrobe and throwing away most of the clothes I brought out with me (most of which are now stained orange from the dust). And my suitcase is now going to be a headache of bright colours from all the bits and bobs I’ve got made out of the local chitenge material. I really can’t tell whether it’ll look alright on a British high street but someone told me bright prints were in?

And of course Jimmy, but my mind was put to rest a little after we visited her new home. She’s going to be living with Franklin, Henry’s colleague who has a house with a court yard, complete with smiling kids and her best friend-to-be; Brucie the neighbours sloth like mut.

So this is it. We’re flying home on Thursday, September 27^th. Henry starts his new job on October 1^st in Lewes, near Brighton and I head for the job centre. Between now and then we’re heading up to Tanzania and Zanzibar to lap up the last bit of African sunshine before heading home just in time for the British Autumn. Great!

P.S. Sorry for the lack of photos but I think the dodgy electrics here fried my camera’s battery charger and I’ve only just got a new so fingers crossed for next time. See you all soon xx