The roads are bumpy here. Any time you go off the main highways, you can travel on dirt roads for hours in any direction heading further and further into the bush. The further you drive the more lost you can get since everything looks the same. When we make trips on the dirt roads, including the one that takes us to our home in Jembo, we do our best to enjoy the ride. Singing songs, playing music on our IPods, and telling stories of home keep our minds and bodies focused on things other than the constant jostling. When we start approaching the paved highway, those last few feet of slow slow bumps can feel like the longest. But once the land cruiser pulls itself over the curb and onto the highway, we can’t help but give a little cheer and a big sigh of relief. After that, it is usually smooth sailing for a while and we can finally relax and fall asleep. (I’ve somehow managed to fall asleep on the bumpy roads too!)
These are the literal bumps in the road that we face here in Zambia. But there’s a lot of metaphorical ones too J Plans are constantly changing. Plan B quickly turns into plans X, Y, and Z. When my parents ask me a “what are you doing this weekend” question, I usually answer with, “I’ll tell you after it happens!” A few big bumps this month have included the often unbearable heat and getting malaria.
I spent this past week hosting a team of nursing students from Indiana Wesleyan University. The whole week felt like one big long bumpy road. My role was to prepare breakfast for the team of 22 people and supervise/help prepare the other meals with our hired cook, Ida. That in itself was going to be a new challenging experience for me, but I was ready to give it a try.
The first day, Tuesday, the team was arriving for dinner, so Ida and I would have the whole day to prepare. A glass coke bottle exploded, rocketing glass and sticky pop all over the inside of the fridge and all over our vegetables. I lost the menu. So Ida and I had to sit down and try to recreate it from memory. The vegetables I had bought only a few days before had already gone bad and moldy despite sitting in the cold fridge. (The 110F heat contributed to this problem) So Ida and I had to go to the market to find more vegetables. Despite all of this, the first meal was a success and every stomach was happy and satisfied. Looking back, I thought there were some bumps in the road that day but I had no idea what the next few days would bring.
Wednesday went by without any major problems. That evening after dinner was finished, I prepared an overnight French toast dish. All I would have to do in the morning is put it in the oven for an hour. Since I was staying in a separate house from the main guesthouse I decided I would cook the French toast in my house so all I had to do was get up and stick it in the oven. Then I could get ready for the day before finishing the rest of breakfast preparations by 7AM. When I stumbled out into the kitchen at 5:30 on Thursday, I tried to turn the oven on. It wouldn’t work and I just couldn’t figure it out. Thankfully, Google is an excellent resource. I felt proud of myself for searching for this specific brand oven, finding the user manual, and successfully turning the oven on. The oven was on, the French toast was beginning to cook, and I had a half hour to head over to the main house and make coffee etc. When I returned to retrieve the French toast, I found the oven off and the toast still cold and soggy. It was supposed to be served in 10 minutes. Thankfully, I had eager helpers who assisted in frying the toast by hand on the stove. By the time everyone left at 8, everyone who wanted a bite of toast got some.
Friday’s breakfast was much less uneventful, but the day took a bad turn when we learned that Ida’s father had died during the night. She would be leaving us for the rest of the trip to be with her family during their time of mourning. The next few meals were going to require a decent amount of preparation and they were meals I had never really cooked before. Especially not for 22 people. Thankfully, the team was flexible. They had great servant hearts and were eager to help cook and clean throughout the day.
The week was HOT. Being in the kitchen cooking didn’t help at all. Friday afternoon we had a glimmer of hope that the rains might come when big black clouds and a strong wind came our way. The power went out (not an uncommon occurrence) just after we had finished preparing dinner. Candles were lit, and positive attitudes brought out for a few hours without power. A few hours turned into going to bed without power. It was hot in our bedrooms. No power meant no fans. The ladies I was staying with decided to pull our mattresses onto the living room floor in front of the screen door so we could have some fresh air. It took forever to fall asleep with the heat, and my mind was racing with thoughts of all the food we had for the next two days going bad without any refrigeration.
I woke up in the morning at 5:30. Power still out. My fears were quickly confirmed that the wind blew down power lines and it would be an unknown amount of African time before the power came back on. (Did I mention that this ‘storm’ never actually delivered any rain?) Having the power go out in Zimba is worse than in Jembo. In Jembo, we have gas stoves. In Zimba, they are electric. Meaning, there would be no cooking for our group of 22. Not only that, but we woke up to absolutely no water pressure. With this heat, drinking water is more than a necessity. (Pretty sure I’ve been drinking a gallon and a half a day!) Not only that, but one of the girls in the group had been violently sick all night long. We needed to leave. In about an hour’s scramble, transport was arranged, bags were packed, and we were on our way to Choma where the group has been staying in the World Hope guesthouse.
When we arrived in Choma, it felt like we got off a very long bumpy road and were finally smooth sailing on pavement. Through all of the bumps of the last few days, the group has been so helpful. In fact, I think they’re having fun preparing meals. Being back on their ‘home turf’ makes them feel as though they should be hospitable to me, even though I’m still responsible for preparing their meals until tomorrow’s lunch. They’re eager to help peel potatoes, and we’re going to get creative and make apple crisp. Tomorrow’s pizza lunch should be the cherry on top of a very long week.
As I write this, there are still 3 meals left. I’m tired, and hot. But I’m writing this with the hope that the bumps are over, and we’ll have an uneventful 24 hours. After my responsibilities are done, I’ll really give a little cheer and big sigh of relief. Despite all this craziness this week, this group has been fantastic in helping each other and myself sing through it all. I really have had a great time playing ‘hostess’ and do look forward to the next time I have the opportunity to serve people this way.
Flexibility is our friend, Expectation is our enemy. And we daily… no, hourly, are reminded: T.I.A. This. Is. Africa. Sometimes you just gotta learn to enjoy the bumpy roads J
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