Its Been a While

It has been quite some time since I updated my blog. I stayed true to my word, as when I set out on this online journey of self discovery, I asserted "I will not update the blog if I am doing nothing but sitting on my thumb". Well, that has been the Lions share of my activity here since I got home. The other 5 % has been occupied by my tireless efforts to find employ. 

All joking aside, I enjoyed my time in the states since Africa. The comfort of technology is not to be underestimated. The comfort of good food is not to be underestimated. The comfort of good friends is not to be underestimated. I miss the beer though. They had some fine lagers over there. 

Minnesota has already begun to get cold. The latter portion of the summer , which I experienced , was immaculate. The weather couldn't have been better, and Minnesotans take advantage of good weather unlike any other people in the world. Fall has been a different story. I would even venture to say that fall has been non-existent. We slipped straight from September to November. October didn't happen, at least not as it is supposed to. A string of weeks of 40 degree days (and rain), with the capper of a half-handful of snowstorms, has given us a friendly reminder of just how idiotic it is to live where we do. And there are no mountains. The prospect of a winter here, after avoiding them for 6 straight years... makes me borderline suicidal... but I digress. 

I am at a cross roads now, deciding between another winter in the rockies and sticking it out here with the hopes of finding a better job. There have been some promising leads but nothing concrete. 

I will close this blog because I have a training session for ski season (if that gives you any indication of where I am leaning). The reason is my Dad and I may finally sack up and heli - ski this year. For that once in a lifetime experience, I will be in the best shape of my life. I would never forgive myself if I wasnt.

Danno

Pics and Proof

The Group.

The River.

Proof that Jack pushed me in.

Seventh Wonder of the World

We arrived at the falls around 4 oclock in the afternoon after a taxing day. We strode up to the gate.... and were astonished to find that entry would cost us 50000 kwacha! Or 10 dollars. You know you have been in Zambia for too long when you are getting out right fired up over 50000 kwacha. We grudgingly paid our dues and entered the park. We were absolutely brought back to life. The minute we entered the gate we noticed the moisture in the air... it was literally the first form of precipitation I had felt since setting foot in Zambia. See in their winter, there is no rain. But as we got closer to the falls, the air became dense with water... When we finally were able to see it, it felt as though rain was coming down from the heavens. Along with thunder. We were being splashed by from 500 feet below. 

Vic Falls is absolutely amazing. With the water at a fairly high level, it is reminiscent the mississppi river... if it ran over the san andreas fault. The gorge is maybe 500 feet deep, and the falls are roughly a mile long. We did the once over, taking pictures and basking in the radiance of the sight. The afternoon sun played tricks on us, constructing rainbows everywhere we looked. The falls is viewed from a peninsula across the gorge. One the other side of the peninsula is a bridge that leads from Zambia to Zimbabwe. "Built by Cecil Rhodes", a drunken Zambian told me. Thats something to take heart in... Cecil Rhodes of colonial Rhodesia fame. That was a while ago. We walked to the other side of the peninsula to view an activity taking place on the bridge... Bungii Jumping. I was initally struck by how manageable it looked... And then the person I had my eyes on continued to free fall for about 6 seconds. I became more nervous as we watched person after person huck off this concrete object. At the same time, however, I became more sure I would make the plunge as well.

We walked to the falls side of the gorge, the river before the descent. Jack and I were entreated by a young Zambian. "Hello, would you like to walk across the river on a concrete path to the islands in the middle?" "Yes", I replied. 

We walked up the river a bit before we saw another gent who appeared to be bounding on the water. As we got closer, it became apparent that his feet were maybe 8 inches under the water. He was on a concrete embankment, 200 feet long and maybe 8 inches in girth. He held my hand and I followed him on to it, Jack behind me. His friend offered to hold my shoes. I said no. As we shuffled slowly on this ledge, I looked down river. Maybe 100 yards away the Zambezi cascaded untold feet to the rocks below. I resolved to love life more than ever and be a good Christian if God let me off the ledge alive. It was not the final time that weekend I make that resolution. We finally crossed to the other side, after an ordeal that featured Stan getting wet up to his waist holding his camera above his head and deciding, wisely, to turn back. 

We reached an Island, and continued to Island hop. We took pictures of the sun, the view, ourselves and our guide. Our feet got dominated by sharp rocks that African feet don't flinch at. Our guide entreated us to go further, but as the sun set, we realized we should return back form whence we came. 

We reached the Island that lead to the concrete embankment. Our guide froze... "A Hippo has used this path!" He exclaimed. Wonderful. I scurried like a little girl through the 30 yards of foliage and high tailed it along the walk of doom back to the mainland. Our guide then asked us for 5000 kwacha. Or one dollar. We felt he had earned it. 

We returned back to the Fawtly Towers to refresh. We dined on maybe the best Indian food I've had in all my days and called it an early night because of the jam packed day we had on the horizon. Bedtime was 2 am. 

We rose around 630 to prepare for our 730 departure for white water rafting. I felt horrible, suffice it to say, but I sprung out of bed infused with nervous energy. Ok thats not true but I did eventually get out of bed and took an english breakfast from the cafeteria. 

Jack and I had a truly Zambian experience yet again as the cab we enlisted to take us to the ATM broke down and then indignantly asked us to push him up a hill. Being good midwestern boys we lent a passive aggressive push and continued on our way, as we had no time to spare. 

We hopped in the bus and arrived at "The Waterfront", the jumping off point for our Zambezi rafting experience. The Zambezi is considered one of the best rivers in the world for kayakers and rafters. This time of year the current is stong and certain rapids rage, but the water level is high enough that people don't usually die. Good news for me, as I like to spend as much time out of the raft as in it. Bad news for me is that the Zambezi has crocs in it. 

Our fellow clientele included some dorky spanish people who COULDNT SPEAK ENGLISH! jeez. The nerve. Some british family with a 75 year old man and his porky buy lovable 14 year daughter. fishy. and some other british guy who proved himself to be a certifiable coward. oh, and I forgot to mention the other 40 patrons... British Schoolboys! Wonderfully tart.

Ours was the first raft and I cannot say Stan Jack or I was impressed with our crew. The old brit and his daughter, the cowardly brit (though we didn't know his MO yet), and a dutch man who looked like flaccid penis. He was even bald. 

After the how toos and a few simple rapids, we embarked on our first class 4. I was in the front across from Jack. The boat lurched up, his side far above mine. My side emptied into the churning water. I stayed strong. That is until Jack used me as his personal support bar. The pictures we purchased afterwards show it, it is an opinion but a statement of fact. He pushed me in. No matter, I held on wisely to the safety rope and loaded myself back into the boat. 

The rafting continued, only heating up. We were allowed to float some rapids ourselves, a fact that became a bit unnerving when we glimpsed crocodiles basking on the rocks next to the river. We were also able to jump rocks next to the river that in higher season would have constituted the river bed. Crazy huh?

Karma is a bitch, and Jack Gray found that out the hard way. On double trouble, the 17th rapid, he bit the dust and had to float the final 150 yards in his life preserver, taking mouth fulls of water while laughing hysterically.

Stan got into the act on of the final rapids, losing control and falling in. No one has to know I also fell in on that rapid.

A vendetta arose when another boat, filled with little british gits, splashed us repeatedly. I replied with well placed splashes, but I could tell by Stan's pensive demeanor that he had more in store. What was in store was on display as we paddled into the cove to finish our trip. The offending boat bumped against ours and Stand sprung into action, evincing a deep understanding of aquatic and amphibious combat. He leapt from his seated position into the water and in a quick maneuver grabbed the guide of the boat and dragged him into the water. The guide was stunned and alittle nonplussed, I imagine, but he acknowledged defeat and so did the rest of the gits. 

Soon after this display of leaping ability, Stan would take up the stakes... and so would I.

TBC

Seventh Natural Wonder of the World

Thursday to Monday was a wonderful and taxing stretch of life. Thursday night began with dinner at a Chinese "Hot Pot" restaurant, compliments of my new friend, Eric Chen of KT hubs. The entire office was invited and it was a jolly time. Venerable folks like Mr. Ngoma, Mr. Kennedy, Mwela and Emmanuel made the trip Jack and I were not about to miss the opportunity to cut loose with the Zambians I have gotten to know best. There was a bit of  apprehension about the Chinese restaurant, as Zambians usually stick to their own cuisine (and they also really dislike Chinese folks). However, after wondering aloud whether they would be forced to eat dog and making other inappropriate jests at the expense of Chinese cuisine and culture, they devoured the fare. Things got a little tipsy for most, and the toasting began. Zambians love repetition. Surprisingly, given this fact, the toasts were quite entertaining. I even got up there to represent the interns, thanking the Days and the staff for their hospitality.

After dinner, Kennedy our best friend here in Zambia and truly an awesome fellow, took us to a truly Zambian club. We were the only mizungos (whites) there, and we got eyeballed as such. But people, as they have been our entire time here, were overwhelmingly friendly and after awhile we settled in and had quite a time. We set up a little dance group around Kennedy's brother, Ted... Weird Huh? Then we trekked home the catch the bus.

Friday morning began unpleasantly, as it began at 5 am. The bus left at 6 and we had to get our tickets before then. Should have gotten up earlier, because when we got there the "business class" bus was booked. This bus was 5 seats to an row. Luckily my doctor, may he remain anonymous, was nice enough to give me some sleeping pills just for occasions like this. Another poor decision. It became a poor decision when I woke up 2 hours after consumption during a rest stop looking like the living dead, walking around like a zombie scaring zambians. But after then stop I thankfully fell back asleep. 

We arrive in Livingstone, home to Victoria Falls. Vic Falls is one of the "7 natural wonders of the world"....  no one can tell us what the other 6 are. Someone brought up Niagara falls, but that gots vetoed. "You cant have two waterfalls on the list!" Valid point. We are staying in the Backpackers Lodge, Fawlty Towers. The Fawlty Towers is both a hostel and an old british sitcom, though I wasn't aware of that latter factiod. It was a hole in the wall, but it was nice... pool, bar, camping out back, fun loving clientele from appearances. We set off at once for the Falls, and arrived at about 345 pm. After our 8 hr bus ride, the day began to feel long... until we glimpsed the falls. Absolutely amazing. Just impossible to put it in words... at least if one is coming off an 8 hr bus ride back to Lusaka as I am now... TBC tomorrow (the weekend includes some big dangerous surprises so stay tuned!

LIKE A BOSS

Work was lively today. FK and Leah Day (Founders of WBR, cousins) arrived in Lusaka at midday. There are in town to resolve the issue of dysfunctional coaster hubs, plaguing WBR bicycles since it switched from its old one piece coaster hub to the more highly performing KT two piece hub. FK being the SRAM founder that he is and KT being the eager business partner that it is, the hub manufacturer pulled out all the stops and sent its president. These circumstances led Stan, Abson and I to a 2 pm meeting with KT's Eric Chen in the lobby of the Taj Pamoozi, the premier hotel in lusaka (owned by Mr. Aurora, owner of WBR assembler Tata Zambia, more on him later). Ill be honest in saying that its not really much to be the premier hotel in Zambia... but it is a nice hotel. Anyways we met with Mr. Chen in the lobby and he was a pretty nice guy- we were trying to get a feel for whether or not he was going to try to cheat us on the broken hub or claim that nothing was wrong with it but he approached the issue with an open mind, even though he had pride in his product. FK came down from his room and we made our way to Tata Zambia to allow Eric to view the hubs firsthand, test them and , if need be, meet with the aforementioned Aurora. Well, we did meet with Aurora. We were ushered into his office upon entry to the compound, and after the necessary pleasantries and protocols (the term Zambians use), this guy proceeds to offer his unsolicited opinion as to why the Hub doesn't work, and why KTs hub is a POS, and finally sketches his own design on a napkin. In front of a guy who founded a huge components manufacturer and another guy who runs one. FK is just slackjawed and Eric is sort of looking at Aurora, and then back at FK, unsure whether to defend his product or aquiesce out of deference to FK, assuming that Mr. A is FK's boy. Finally, FK interrupts him in the interest of time and says "Frankly, we tested this hub using sophisticated means and it is more durable than our prior model. I dont really understand the design you have laid out here... I think we ought to go test the hubs." By this time Aurora has fielded a cell phone call in true Zambian fashion, so we leave his office immediately to attend to the real business of the day. Mr. Chen proves to be an interesting guy, willing to get his hands dirty to make sure his hubs are ready for the test, borrowing wrenches and other tools to ensure their performance. The issue appears to be that the hubs were not fully tightened when they left his plant in China, but are functional when tinkered with. This is a small problem to be fixed on his side and good to have identified it. But the test is tomorrow and we shall seeeeeeee.

Ramblings

This post is meant largely to get my ass back on the bloggin bandwagon. Its been a low key week, but I gotta stay in game shape. 

The week, as noted, was uninspired but productive. We got into the office on Monday, Jack and I, with our boss Dave and our "supervisor" Stan gone down to Zimbabwe. We sat down at our desks, and I found that I had little or no capacity for work. I did, however, have the capacity for a morning cup of coffee and all the solemn joy that ensues. That hurdle passed, with aplomb I might add (get it, aplomb rhymes with...), I stared down the remainder of the day: a desolate wasteland of sitting in a cold office trying not to get caught looking at the web. Jack and I had sent off our report on the impact of WBR on the RAPIDS HIV/AIDs program and were in between appointments on our next project with nowhere really to go on it that particular day.  It was a horrible feeling. I don't mind sitting in an office all day if I am working. I hate sitting around looking at the internet. Listen to me complain about having to sit in the office for a day, when every other day has consisted of visiting villages or working on projects I am genuinely interested in... WBR is spoiling me rotten.

Anyways, this lack of purpose led me to my go to site, Realclearpolitics.com, a metamedia site that basically accumulates the best political articles around and puts them on a webpage for one to link to. Much like the drudge report of huffington post. Insert markets or sports for politics in the url to fit your tastes. After lapping up the excretions (its a theme) of our nations op-ed writers I have come to a few conclusions about the Obama Administration, the healthcare debate and those who cover it. Let me preface these comments by saying I have a very superficial understanding of our healthcare system.

1. People who write about this stuff, on both sides, don't seem to be familiar with "the issues":

I suppose this isn't a revelation for most folks, but it dawned on me after I read my 56th article about the healthcare debate. I had no more understanding about the nuts and bolts of the situation than I did before I read all these articles. Sure, now I know about "the public option", a phrase bandied about with either awed regard or frenzied disdain. I know that the plan will "ration" healthcare. Depending on who is writing the article you will find that the plan "increases competition" or kills it, will either save money or mortgage our future. My mind is filled with a bunch of other buzzwords and knowing references to things the plan includes, or will do or wont do. But I am still ignorant. Ignorant of the overall structure of what the new plan would be and also embarrassingly ignorant to the realities of our current plan. So too, I believe, are most of the people writing these articles. These folks were writing about 9/11 8 years ago, then al qaeda, the economy the next year, the iraq war, then immigration, then Afghanistan, then north korea and Iran, then China, the environment, then the "new economic paradigm" ("derivatives negate risk we will never have another recession" was a common refrain), then the campaign, then sarah palin, then joe bidens dumb ass, the crisis ("derivatives are the devil, we will never have positive gdp growth again, some body must do something nowww" etc) the spectacle that was Barak Obamas 100 days ("the most important event in the history of mankind" is how I refer to the event) and now healthcare. This is their job, writing about the cause du jour. And I am not criticizing them personally. But I am saying that such breadth of coverage must come at the cost of depth. And I see almost nothing of import in the op-eds that I ravenously digested this past monday, except when I read George Will. I love that guy. Rather than discuss what is being proposed, attention surrounds whether what is being proposed will succeed. Its like a football announcer who constantly repeats the score to the viewer, expecting that statement of fact and a handful of inane truisms to properly elucidate the picture. John Madden may have made a career of it, but that doesn't mean it impresses me when anybody else does it (we all need to admit it was impressive when Madden did it).

2. I will say it. I DONT LIKE OBAMA.

I say this at pain of exile from my generation. However, I need to make known a feeling that has been brewing in me ever since I watched the guy get sworn in. I supported him during the campaign, I even volunteered at his head quarters in Bozeman this past fall making calls. I believed he represented me, that he was at heart a practical moderate. I believed he supported the basic tenets of capitalism, but also (and reasonably) held that we did needed backstops and programs for honest people who lose their jos or lose their way. I believed, basically that he wasn't a big government liberal. I was wrong. Soo wrong. And once I realized that, well, my opinion on him changed pretty quick. I have been disappointed in the stimulus, in his approach to the bailouts (coughing up the dough while impotently moralizing at bank/insurance execs), his weasly treasury secretary, his moronic VP, in Peter Orszag, in his tough talk on unions followed by coddling, and now in his handling of healthcare. Most of all, I have been disappointed by his fat ass press secretary. Where the hell does that asswipe get off... doing anything? He is a true slob. But I digress. Its not necessarily even that I always disagree with what he does... Its more his disingenuous, professorial way of having his cake and eating it too. He describes massive extension of the government as "increasing competition" and argues that the monstrous health care bill will cut cost... Really? Just tell me what your plan is buddy! Don't lie to me! This thing needs to be fixed. Maybe a public option will help. Maybe spending money now will improve healthcare... fine. Tell me that, don't lie and tell me that spending money... is making us spend less money, because.... its impossible. The fact of the matter is if he was calling it like he saw it, I would disagree so it makes no difference.

I suppose the main point here is DO NOT READ AYN RAND AND EXPECT YOUR POLITICAL VIEWS TO REMAIN MODERATE. A related piece of advice would be do not read Ayn Rand in Africa... it just doesnt mesh. None the less, that is exactly what I am doing. 

TBC

HIV

The people that know me best probably wouldn't call me hard hearted. However, they probably wouldn't peg me as sensitive to the plight of other people, either. I suppose I occupy the sentimental middle ground. I held that middle ground during my first 5 weeks here. I went into the bush to see the villagers hit hardest by HIV. I spoke with them, heard the stories of illness, death, of poverty and orphans. I also heard to stories of triumph over impossibilities and stories of love. I was moved by what I heard. However, I maintained emotional distance. My interest was more academic or professional than sentimental.  I was more caught up in gathering stories than listening to them. More interested in capturing the interesting human interest or work relevant content. "Oh I am very sorry to hear you lost your husband and three siblings to HIV... I think it is wonderful that you donate your time as a caregiver to help other HIV victims in your community... How has the WBR bicycle helped perform your job as a caregiver better?" I maintained an emotional barrier for most of my first month here, quickly rationalizing or suppressing my the emotion I felt. This was not because of my job, of course. I just never broke through.

This past Tuesday, Jack and I watched James (pseudonym) give a hugely impressive 8 hr workshop to a group of rural bicycle mechanics selected to be trained as WBR field mechanics. Throughout the workshop he spoke with overwhelming authority on issues ranging from economics to business management to bicycle repair to politics. He had these guys eating out of his palm, like a politician. I knew James was an exceedingly bright guy and this did nothing to diminish his standing in my eyes. James has been working with Jack and I to remedy spare parts distribution problems. My first day working for WBR in "the field" I perceived spare parts was a problem and wrote up a proposal for a pilot spare parts distribution center to gauge demand and verify if WBRs high quality parts truly have a market.  James has been working on this stuff for 2 years, however he was kind enough to allow me the pretense that I wasn't making suggestions and observations he had considered long ago, and really has done a great job making Jack and I feel like a part of the team. 

Jack, James and I were talking over a Coke outside the training center during a 15 minute break. Jack asked James, some variation of the question "So how many siblings do you have James?" James, in his composed, contemplative way looked at the sky, squinted, cocked his head to the right and said, "Well, there is just me". He smiled a melancholy smile. "I suppose thats not right... I have two cousins of my age. They are very close to me and stay with me now, I take care of them. They grew up in the house of my parents, so I consider them my brother and sister." He drew a heavy breath and looked at the ground. "I don't talk about this very much, however I used to have 2 brothers and 1 sister. They all have passed." My body literally reeled, expression changing from the inconsequential half smile of light conversation to a look of disbelief. "Yes... Yes... I lost two of them on one day. My older brother and my younger brother. All to AIDs. It was... It was probably the most difficult day of my life". He related the whole story in the melancholy matter of fact of someone steeled by time int he face of tragedy. "Sometimes I think about how things could have been... If ARVs (anti retro virals)  had been around... It was 1999, and ARVs came in 2004 or 5. I know they would be fine, just fine if they had been around. They would be alive today..." James raised his eyebrows back into the late afternoon sky, at the sun low in the sky. "My older brother... he was not a... sexual man, he was not interested in women... even his wife. It was by accident that they became married! Haha... he was interested in other things... I just do not understand how he became ill." James's eyes shimmered.  "But that is how it happened... I have wonderful parents, a wonderful wife... I have children. I am very lucky... Yes, very lucky."

Tears had welled in my eyes. The truth of HIV presented itself to me. Whereas I saw the virus as  an ailment that preyed on the careless, the poor, the sexually promiscuous, the ignorant... I realized that here in Africa it wasn't that way at all. HIV is a plague. It took someone in whose reflection I saw myself to make me understand. I saw that the virus had laid waste to families. Why shouldn't that have happened to my family? It would have. And that thought was just far too much to bear. James's siblings were all into their 30s when they contracted HIV, with families and jobs. To reach adulthood with the people with whom you are the closest in the world and then, a couple of agonizing months later... poof. Words cannot describe it.  

So I got myself back together and watched James finish his workshop. I took a run later that day and got to thinking about the conversation again. Again I imagined I had to bear James tragedy. Toward the end of my run, 400 yards away from the entrance to our house I began bawling. My chest heaved as I tried not to think about the nightmare I conjured. A pedestrian walked by and I turned the other way. I had to sit down to compose myself on the ledge next to the sidewalk, covering my face. So why did James's story get to me in a way none of the others had? I realized that even though I had heard countless stories just like James's, I was unable to see my reflection in them.  But when I finally saw my reflection, I finally saw the hideous legacy of the plague that is HIV/AIDs in Africa. It is horrifying.