Lusaka 2

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  Lusaka, Zambia
Monday, July 14, 2008

05 July - Lusaka

Well, this turned out to be one of the most time wasting days in memory. Here in Lusaka, as previously mentioned, I am totally dependent on the kindness of the staff or of other guests of the Mission for transport - primarily to the supermarket. Today it looked like I would have a bounty of choices as both Hanna and Karin (more about her later) told me of their plans to go shopping today.

As Hanna does not like to linger while shopping (and I do!), I thought it would be better to go with Karin. So Hanna went shopping first - without me. No problem, I thought, because I'll get a ride with Karin a bit later, and for longer.

Early in the morning Karin told me that she would go to the bus station at 11:00 to pick up her boyfriend, come back to the Mission and have breakfast, then set off for an afternoon of shopping at Manda Hill, Lusaka's biggest shopping center, which I have yet to visit.

I estimated, based on what she told me, that she would be leaving at 12:30 or 13:00. By the time 13:00 rolled around, I was already hungry, but I put off eating lunch, thinking that I could have something at the mall for a change. When 14:00 came and went without any sign of departure, I decided to have my lunch. As soon as I had reached the point of no return (i.e., all packages opened, etc.), Karin came in and announced her imminent departure. I had no choice but to abandon my plans for a big shopping tour. So in the end, two shopping transport options turned into none - and I ended up just puttering around the Mission for most of the day. It was at this point that I started entertaining the thought of returning home to Bangkok prematurely - and just abandoning the rest of the trip - including the already paid group tour through South Africa as well as the already paid return flight. I've already lost so much money in the stock market since the beginning of this trip that abandoning the few thousand dollars of already paid services would be immaterial. And I'm in such a bad mood now that I really want to be home.

Feeling sympathy for my plight, Hanna let me help her with her gardening work, which did me a bit of good as I was/am severely lacking in physical exercise. I exercise very regularly back home in Bangkok, and when I don't get a chance to exercise I feel awful.

Now, as promised, for a bit about Karin: She is a very attractive German aid-worker whom I estimate to be in her late 30s/early 40s. She is currently working in Mutare, Zimbabwe but was advised by the German government, along with all of their colleagues in Zimbabwe, to leave the country during this sensitive period surrounding the elections taking place there now. (You know, the place with the democratically elected dictator Robert Mugabe.)

When Karin announced yesterday that her boyfriend would be coming today, I tried (as one does) to imagine what he would be like. I figured he would be a dashing, handsome German fellow aid worker, perhaps five or tens years her senior - or even a rich businessman who would have the means to support the high tastes of such an attractive woman. Well, I think you can surmise by the fact that I'm writing this at all that I couldn't have been more wrong: Her boyfriend is a sort of reggae-looking black Zimbabwean dancer who looks to be in his late-twenties/early thirties. It's not that I see anything wrong with people being in any relationship of their choosing. But I can't help but think that if a man of her age were to show up with a woman of her boyfriend's age - and profession, there would be accusations of sexual exploitation and such. Once again, it's not the relationships that I object to but the hypocrisy of accepting it when a woman does it but condemning it when it's done by a man.

As for Karin's attraction to a man who could not be more different from her in appearance: I personally think it is a biological thing. There is a benefit in nature to a diverse gene pool, so I think that nature makes us attracted to people who look different from us. For example, being handsome myself, I have a preference for ugly girls. More seriously, though: Being blond-haired and fair-skinned, I have always had an attraction for dark haired, tan-skinned girls. (Not that my preference has meant much to dark-haired, tanned girls, though.)

Also, amongst German women in particular (from what I've seen on this trip - especially on Zanzibar), there seems to be an exotic attraction for black men. (When you grow up with blacks, as I did in America, they lose a lot of their exoticness!) At the beach resort we stayed at in Zanzibar, for example, there were a few local "beach boys" who spent their days lifting weights building their muscles, and their evenings sleeping with German tourist girls. I don't know if these guys brag to the girls about how many women they sleep with, but they certainly brag to the guys about it. One particular guy with whom I had an unpleasant encounter there claimed to have slept with a girl from every country except South Africa. (Well, come to think of it, I guess that means that it's not just the German girls who are doing it then!) Still, if you see a white girl with a black man in Zanzibar - or perhaps elsewhere in Africa - there is a good chance that she will be a German girl living out one of her lifelong sexual fantasies. Again, though, who am I to tell people what they should find exotic or desirable?!

Another thing that I noticed is that Karin tolerates things in her African man that I don't think she would tolerate in a European partner. For example, African males have a more traditional idea of how tasks should be divided between the genders (i.e. - work should be done by the woman while relaxing should be done by the man.) As such, Karin's Zimbabwean boyfriend, as nice as he otherwise was, made himself scarce when there was work to be done, for example around the kitchen. Had a European man done the same thing, I think it would have been grounds for divorce - or possibly even hanging. Once again the word hypocritical comes to mind. I could of course be wrong and Karin might be the one European woman who accepts being considered a second class citizen to men. But somehow I don't think so. More likely it was a case of hormones overriding principles. (I guess we've all been THERE before!)

06 July

Woke up feeling so bad that I could no longer hope to get better without medical intervention. I went to Peter and Brigitte and after calling my travel insurance company in Thailand (as required - according to their instructions), Hanna brought me to Lusaka's best - and therefore most expensive - medical clinic. In poor places like Africa, one might expect medical care to be cheap because it has to be affordable to the local populace. In fact that applies only if you want to be treated by a witch doctor. If you want to see a properly trained doctor in a reasonable amount of time in a reasonably decent environment, you have to pay through the nose. Just to see a doctor at this clinic cost 300,000 kwacha - or US$90. And that's before having any tests done or getting any medicine.

After poking and probing, listening to my body with a stethoscope and asking some questions, the doctor concluded that I have a respiratory tract infection - curable with a $20 course of anti-biotics. (Actually he prescribed the $50 course, but I opted for the generic version at less that half the price. Even if my insurance will pay for it, I don't like to waste money.) If I want to know the exact nature of the germs affecting me, the doctor said that I could come back tomorrow for more testing - for the minor additional fee of US$150. This further testing was clearly nothing more than an attempt to wrangle more money out of me as the doctor already knew what was wrong and was able to prescribe the correct anti-biotic. Only in the very unlikely event that the prescribed anti-biotic doesn't work would I consider going back for such expensive testing. (In Thailand I can have a minor operation for that much money!)

When I got home from the pharmacy with my medicine, I started reading the instructions / warnings and immediately noticed that this medicine is penicillin-based and should not be taken by anyone with a history of allergy to penicillin. Well, it just so happens that for all of my adult life I have been under the impression that I am allergic to penicillin. Under the impression, I say - but not sure. Here's why: When I was a kid, I had ENORMOUS difficulty swallowing pills of any kind. I just couldn't get them down. For anything. At one point I had an illness for which penicillin was prescribed. My mother sent me to the bathroom with a glass of water and after an hour or so I emerged still unable to swallow the damned pill. One good thing came out of this experience, though, and that was that I seemed to have developed some kind of rash - which could then plausibly be used as an indication of an allergy to penicillin. So this rash saved me - at least for that moment.

In truth, though, I never knew if I was actually allergic to penicillin - or if I had just willed that rash on myself - or even only imagined it. My doctor in Thailand suggested that it was not possible to will a rash, so, to be on the safe side, I had always avoided penicillin-related products, as there were always alternatives available. (Come to think of it, probably more expensive alternatives, which is probably why he so willfully supported my would-be penicillin allergy.)

If the doctor here had asked me if I had a penicillin allergy, I would have probably told him that I think I do - and he would have prescribed something else. As it was, I was already home with the medicine, suffering badly, and having no way to get back to a pharmacy to get a replacement. So I did the only thing that I could: I took the medicine. And guess what? I'm not allergic to penicillin! It took this confluence of events - and the passage of forty years time - for me to find out, but at least now I know. And it can't be a bad thing to have solved one of my own personal life's mysteries.

This is my first time to be sick enough to require medical attention while traveling - and the first time I will try to claim on my travel insurance. We'll see if they are as good at dishing out money as they were at accepting my premiums! If not, then I just saved myself a lifetime of future insurance premiums.

The remainder of the day I spent resting, reading (a great book that I just started: A Short History of Nearly Everything" by Bill Bryson), and having my usual evening walk and talk with Peter. Later in the evening, as I was about to prepare my dinner, I saw a pack of chicken legs on the kitchen counter and asked Charlie, another visiting German aid worker, whose they were and what they were planning to do with them. He said they belonged to him so I asked if I could cook them for him (and Karin and her boyfriend) - just so they could get a taste of some Louisiana home cooking. I only wanted to cook them - but Charlie insisted that I could not cook without joining them for dinner, so that is what I did. The chicken was enjoyed by all - except for Karin, who is a vegetarian. But she did enjoy the gravy.

07 July

Woke up feeling infinitely better that I felt yesterday, thereby suggesting that the additional recommended lab work will not be necessary. Spent the day puttering around the house, doing massive amounts of reading, a bit of clothes washing, and having my usual sunset walk around the neighborhood with Peter.

08 July

Hitched a ride to the Kabulonga shopping center where I had a brief opportunity to check my e-mails, if not update my blog. One noteworthy issue was raised which needs to be addressed: My dear friend Helmut was showing an inclination to side with my English opponents regarding the reason for them objecting to my wearing the same (colored) clothes throughout the trip based on an experience we had together a year ago when I didn't notice that I was smelling after wearing the same clothes for about five days in a row then. So let me put Helmut's suggestion to rest here:

First of all, when I was with Helmut last year, it was in warm, coastal Mozambique - and I hadn't changed my clothes for about five days there at that time. On this trip, the circumstances were totally different: First of all, I learned from my experience with Helmut and made a mental note not to subject anyone to my ill smells by not changing my clothes for so long again. So in this case, I was showering - and changing my clothes - every two days - in places that were so cold that I didn't ever sweat a drop. I was also able, due to my previously-mentioned "kitchen sink", to wash my clothes very easily, frequently, and with great pleasure. So all things considered, I don't think it was possible that it was my smell that my fellow tour members were objecting to when seeing me in what they thought were the same clothes every day. They were objecting simply to seeing me wearing what they thought was the same outfit. And besides, as my lawyer Gregory astutely (as always) pointed out: We were in the middle of Africa - not at a ball. They didn't have the reasonable right to expect to see me in a different tuxedo every day. And finally, just about every one of them looked a whole lot dirtier to me than I could have possibly looked to them. I rest my case.

During my long days of recovering from my respiratory infection, I have had a chance to do some thinking about the possible cause of my illness: I am pretty sure that it is somehow connected to those ice cold showers in the ice cold air from the camping leg of my tour just prior to arriving in Lusaka. So it turns out that I wasn't actually as good as I thought at tolerating those cold showers - not that I had much choice about it.

Another thing: The act of recovering from an illness occupied me - to the extent that I lost any desire to get myself back home as quickly as possible - as I was feeling the desire to do just a couple of days ago. I have a challenge on my hands: Getting myself well again. That has been occupying all of my efforts over the past few days. Also, it hasn't hurt my mood that I have managed to make back over half of my massive stock market losses in the past few days. I guess I was due for a bounce, both financially as well as emotionally and physically.

09 July

Woke up feeling better yet again - but still not completely well. In fact, still far from it. Still lots of gunk coming out of my nose, but at least it's not bloody anymore. My best moment of the day is when I wake up. After that I drift back downwards throughout the course of the day.

In the evening I joined Brigitte, Peter and Hanna in the main house to watch a documentary (in German, on German television) about the Thai Royal Family. It's telling that I had to come to Zambia to see such a documentary about my own country! It was interesting to see film clips of His Majesty the King as a young man giving interviews in English. I had a lump in my throat during the whole documentary, so emotional was it to me.

14 July

I really don't know where the time has gone. I spent my days trying to recover from my respiratory infection - but, truth be told, I don't feel completely well yet, and tomorrow is already my last full day in Lusaka. I had hoped (and expected) to be well by now.

Essentially I settled into a routine over the past week or so: Eating (not enough), sleeping (too much), reading (an enormous amount), taking evening walks with Peter (almost without exception) and talking with Brigitte and Peter - and whichever other guests happened to be visiting. Yesterday evening, for instance, we got a new guest: Peter, an English carpenter who builds various facilities for poor Zambians. We also had a visit from a neighbor: Nadeera, a young Sri Lankan woman who is working for the UN.

After having watched the movie "Shooting Dogs" about the genocide in Rwanda, our conversation turned to the topic of doing the right thing in difficult circumstances. I personally felt that the UN was criminally negligent in abandoning the Rwandans under its care when they knew/had to know that the result of their abandonment would be the slaughter of thousands of innocent people. Yes, they had their "mandate" - and that was not to shoot unless fired upon. But, well, that's just not good enough when thousands of innocent lives are at stake.

On the one hand I am really looking forward to moving on with my journey. On the other hand (there can't be one hand without the other, right?), I am at least a little fearful of joining another group tour based on my recent bad experience with the other group. On the other hand, they can't really all be horrible, right? Otherwise nobody would ever join them. Right? Ha! On the other (third) hand: Maybe tours were meant only for certain types of people - by which I mean people not like me. We'll see soon enough, as this next tour starts this Thursday, 17 July from Johannesburg.

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