The first month of this new year was a busy one for volunteers in Southern Province. We had been waiting for months to finalize the lease for a new base of operations and quite suddenly the call was made. Stepping off of the plane, B and I were informed that we had a little over a week to move everything out of the old Provincial Resource Center and into a new site about one kilometer away. Abrupt changes to the existing game plan are par for the course in Zambia and although distressing, the news was proof positive that we had returned and came as a reassurance that everything was as we left. Volunteers from all over the province came in to pull off a successful move and all of our office equipment, furniture, and personal affects were relocated within a matter of days. In that first night, tried and tired on the floor under our mosquito nets propped up on so much carriage, we took comfort in knowing with certainty that we had come back to our home away from homes.

Much had to be done to make our new headquarters a functioning office. Documents sorted, doors refurbished, and shelves built to give everything a place. My modest carpentry skills were put to good use despite having to take a brief rest enforced by Peace Corps Medical Office. The rapid change in climate opened my immune system to attack and somewhere between the rain and dusty furnishings I found the time to come down with a bacterial infection in my throat. A regiment of sleep and penicillin did the trick and I was back on my feet in no time. I headed to nearby Kalomo with Chisco, a local bio-gas producing farmer, to check on the progress of a bio-gas digester installation at the local abattoir and recover from the rains with an unexpected dose of sunshine. As you can see from this picture of Kapapa farm road, the rains have been generous, and I arrived on site to find the digester dome filled with about 40 centimeters of water.

The digester is being built at a sizable slaughterhouse within Kalomo BOMA. Owned by a prominent political figure in Zambia, the abattoir will significantly reduce the environmental impact of meat and hide processing activities once the digester is complete. Sixty to eighty head of cattle end their earthly lives here everyday and generate a large amount of waste in the process. This digester will turn that waste into methane gas which will both treat the waste before introduction into the local ecosystem and produce fuel for boiling water, cooking, and processing hides. It is exciting to be working on a project that will advance the cause of green development by linking a nationally recognized political figure to bio-gas. The sun has come out in Zambia and it is a beautiful day.

Chisco and I check out the mornings waste output from the abattoir. Not a pleasant smell but a beautiful thing for bio-gas production.

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The rains have finally come to Southern Province. Tonga land is the last stand for the annual dry season in Zambia and the rains are said to finish earlier here than anywhere else in the country. Overcast skies provided a welcome reprieve from the sweltering heat of this region and the response from flora was overwhelming in its sudden and conspicuous nature. The color green has become dominant in the landscape and the results are stunning. My bio-digester apprenticeship continued under the cooler skies with a visit to a site in Mubanga with Christopher, an astute and experienced expert in the field. The Water and Sanitation Association of Zambia (WASAZA) is working to install a bio-gas system for the secondary school in this remote village.

The project is funded by World Vision and will safely process the waste from several hundred students into cooking fuel for the cafeteria. The system features a double-digester "trap" to catch solids and a Planted Gravel Filter (PGF) that includes a garden area to clean and use any waste water from the ablution blocks at either respective dormitory. Gas produced from the solids at each double-digester will feed into a digester near the cafeteria kitchen, where kitchen waste can be processed, and held until the gas is needed for cooking. WASAZA personnel had stayed on site throughout the construction process and done a great job. The school hasn't yet opened but will provide a much needed site for continuing education in a relatively isolated area.

B and I spent the holidays stateside. We took a relatively cheap flight at a rate reduced in acknowledgement of 14 hours of total lay-over time. The ticket seemed like a deal at first but by Amsterdam we had both resolved to avoid any flights like this in the future. We arrived short on sleep to a fortunately mild patch of Virginia winter. This was the first time I had seen my family in two and a half years and the experience was overwhelming. My brother, Garth, and his fiance, Margaret, flew in from Washington state and for the first time in a long time, we were all together. I took the opportunity to cook a Zambian meal for my family complete with nshima, ifisashi (ground peanuts and greens), supu (a condiment made of tomato, onion, and oil or fat), and soya pieces. Eating with one hand (no utensils) proved challenging for my family at first but everyone enjoyed the meal and got a little insight into the Zambian diet.

First night Virginia in Charlottesville was a nostalgic experience and a great opportunity to hang out with Returned Peace Corps Volunteers, Mindy and Leah, who came up from Winston-Salem to visit with B and I. We all went with my folks to see a Mark Nizer, the Buzzard Hollow Boys, a short film showcase, and Dr. Levine and the Dreaded Blues Lady. The acts were great and revived my love for Americana but the final countdown was a disappointing nightcap. Charlottesville opted to employ a laser light show instead of shooting off fireworks this year which held promise but kind of let everyone down. I would guess budget cuts but for the expense of this kind of entertainment and might venture an environmental prerogative if not for the huge cost of electricity in terms of coal and oil. Everyone enjoyed themselves throughout the evening, however, and it was great to reconnect with friends stateside and show off my hometown to B, Mindy, and Leah.

B and I headed up to the Washington, DC area for the few days before our departure so that we could spend some time with her family. We flew back to warmer climes shortly after the New Year a little bit fatter, sad to go but happy to have had such a welcome holiday with friends and family.

Southern Province, my new home with Peace Corps in Zambia, the land of the Tonga tribe, cattle, sour milk, open plains, and drought. For the past several decades, Southern Province has suffered from minimal rainfall coupled with a lack of naturally occurring water bodies. Sanitation, water management, and conservation farming projects rule the day, making this an ideal environment for the Southern Bio Power nucleus estate at Kapapa Farm. The site functions as a field office, resource center, and demonstration farm for Southern Bio Power to demonstrate fair trade practices and renewable energy sources on a working commercial farm. It is also my new home base and I spent several weeks this month learning about and working with bio-digesters in the agricultural context. I assisted with connecting a methane producing bio-digester to farm hand housing to provide renewable cooking gas for workers and their families.

The digester, named Elvis in honor of the household patriarch at this location, turns agricultural waste like cattle manure and vegetative compost into valuable natural gas. This particular digester is also connected to a bio-toilet, a pit latrine that feeds human waste into the digestion tank, for improved sanitation on site. Inputs from the latrine and sludge trough enter ansubterranean dome through an underwater connection. The water inside the dome provides an anaerobic environment for fermentation and pressurizes the gas that is produced (rising to the top of the dome) up to ten kilo-pascals. The digester is made of all local materials: bricks, mud, and cement, so that the primary installation expense comes from the pipes and stove unit used to harvest the gas. Southern Province suffers from massive deforestation, a result of cattle farming and tobacco drying practices in the area, and local farmers stand to benefit from adopting renewable energy sources that integrate easily with the prevailing agricultural paradigm. These digesters can supply more than enough gas for household cooking and heating needs (especially when composting glycerin heavy plant materials like Jatropha seeds) and can be used to produce electricity when employed on a large scale. Working in a partnership with Southern Bio Power over the next year, I will be expanding the outreach capacity of the organization to improve their ability to educate and train rural Zambians to work with technologies like bio-digesters.

Peace Corps Zambia held the semi-annual provincial meetings at the end of the month to coincide with Thanksgiving. This gave all the volunteers in each province the opportunity to gather as a family and share good food and drink over this American holiday institution. At the Southern Province office in Choma, we had the pleasure of a visit from our Country Director, Tom Kennedy, who came to represent Lusaka Headquarters at our meeting and enjoy the holiday with a few of his volunteers. Peace Corps pulled out of Southern Province in 2009 and only reopened the province a few months ago. Having the Country Director present at the first provincial meeting of the new Southern Province was a welcome recognition of the challenges faced by we the volunteers who have been charged with restoring operations here. We also took the occasion to hold a 50th Anniversary Celebration so that NGO and government counterparts could come to the office and network with volunteers. This was the fourth 50th anniversary I have participated in this year and quite possible the most fulfilling as most of our counterparts in Choma were unaware that Peace Corps was resuming operation in Southern Province. Letting folks know that we were back in town piqued interest in our programs and got everyone excited about establishing a legacy in the South.

B and I traveled to Lusaka after Provincials for a few days in Zambia's capitol before heading back down South. We took a brief detour on our way back to Choma and decided to go exploring for B's birthday. We traveled down a road that claimed to go to Lake Kariba, the largest man-made lake in the world, and ended up in the forgotten town of Sinazongwe. The area suffered during the Zimbabwean Civil War in the 1970s and the once vibrant fishing harbor has never fully recovered. We discovered a ghost town on the banks of a beautiful lake with a couple of lodges capitalizing on the peaceful surroundings. Tourism may indeed be the key to a revival of Sinazongwe in the coming years as the town provides easy access to this beautiful and resource rich area. Nearby Chete Island definitely held some allure for B and I after we heard the story of "Operation Noah," an irrational effort to populate the island with African wildlife including: elephants, lions, zebra, etc. Hopefully we'll get the chance to make our way to the island to see for ourselves before our time in Southern Province comes to a close.

Exploring new parts of Zambia is always fun, especially when you hitchhike student drivers

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Sinazongwe Harbor was once a major fishing port, this rusting bow was most likely a casualty of the economic ramifications of Civil War in Zimbabwe. The harbor stands largely abandoned today.

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These watchtowers were constructed during the Zimbabwean Civil War to prevent unexpected invasion by Rhodesian troops

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Locations featured in this month's post

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Zambia elected a new president on September 22nd 2011. After months of rallies, fierce allegations of bribery and corruption, and isolated incidences of violence, the people chose Michael Sata to be the fifth President of the Republic. The whole of Peace Corps Zambia listened and watched the election with bated breath. We had orders to stand-by in case of domestic turmoil with travel bans in effect until the outcome of the polls could be determined. B and I spent the week at the Southern Province office, listening to the radio and speculating on what could happen. Many predicted instability if Sata defeated incumbent Rupiah Banda, even more predicted outbreaks of violence if Sata lost. Banda's party, the Movement for a Multi-party Democracy (MMD), had been in power since the historic election of 1991 in which Zambia became the first African democracy to have a peaceful transition between two opposing political parties. Many people believed that a such a smooth transition would be impossible to repeat. Widespread allegations of bribery and corruption covered the newspapers and airwaves. The tension was immortalized in pop-songs and Sata's popular underground slogan, "Don't Kubeba." The words mean: "don't tell," and refer to a speech in which Sata encouraged voters to take bribes from MMD, but secretly vote for another party. Allegations of buying votes were largely unsubstantiated but the slogan proved as ambiguous and effective Nixon's plea for the "silent majority" in 1969. The MMD stepped down from power on September 23rd (Zambian presidents are sworn-in the day after an election) and peacefully handed over the powers of the executive to the Patriotic Front party and Michael Sata. Zambia remains an example of functional democracy in Africa and proof that a land of 72 tribes can live as one nation.

Security concerns about the election prompted the Lusaka office to expedite the Close of Service (COS) date of my intake. Instead of September 24th, members of my group officially ended their tour of service on the 2nd. One by one, my peers spoke before ringing an old wheel rim (a tradition in Peace Corps Zambia) and walking on towards a sudden and uncertain future. It was strange to say goodbye after two years. We had known each other through trials and celebrations that seemed to last forever and now it was time to move on. I stayed behind with the other extension volunteers; those of us who signed on for another year passed through all of the farewell dinners, the drinks, the trips to the airport, the hugs, and turned the page to begin a new chapter in Zambia. I was now the Volunteer Program Coordinator for Appropriate Technologies and engaged in a partnership with Southern Bio Power to develop outreach tools and build the capacity of both our organizations to bring beneficial technologies to rural areas. My last task as a Rural Aquaculture Promotion (RAP) volunteer before taking on my new responsibility was as a technical trainer for the incoming group. I headed to Chipembi Agricultural College to meet the trainees who would replace the volunteers who had just left, my intake. The experience was surreal and reminded me of how much I've come to love Zambia. I found myself salty and reserved in comparison to the enthusiastic optimism of the soon-to-be volunteers I was training, but endeared by their desire to live and know my adoptive country. I will never understand this place, but I love the land, I love the people, and I was proud to take part in preparing the next group of volunteers for their new lives.

35 new RAP volunteers, our largest intake yet, swore an oath of service on October 21st, 2011. The event took place at the statehouse in President Sata's first diplomatic function since taking office. Peace Corps Zambia further honored the occaision with a 50th anniversary "open house" at the Lusaka headquarters to coincide with the swear-in. B and I set-up and manned the Appropriate Technology booth to give visitors an idea of what our program is all about. Other displays detailed the heath, fisheries, environment, and education projects respectively, as well as PC/response and Girls Leading Our World (camp GLOW). The event was geared towards highlighting the achievements of volunteers in Zambia and opening a repoire with partner organizations with offices in Lusaka. This was my third 50th anniversary celebration for Peace Corps and perhaps the most exhausting. B and I travelled to Choma the following day to prepare to post our new Tonga-speaking volunteers. It was time for me to rest and recuperate before moving into my new home in the South.

B holds up a copy of the Times of Zambia announcing Sata's victory in the 2011 tripartite election

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US Ambassador, Mark Storella checks out the 50th anniversary display for Appropriate Technology while our Director of Programs and Training, Lauren Mamane looks on

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Ambassador Storella and I appreciate the work-of-art that is the bamboo bicycle at the 50th anniversary display for Appropriate Technology

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Mshale bwino. This is the way Lala Bembas say goodbye. Literally translated it means "you stay well," a polite phrase announcing ones departure, and implies a fondness for those left behind. This month I bid farewell to my tribal family in Changilo and moved out of my home these past 23 months to begin work on my third year extension projects. The occaision was marked with a final meeting in which the village wished me well and expressed their gratitude towards myself and Peace Corps with a few gifts and a shared meal. I gave "rememberances" (parting gifts to friends) and we prayed for continuing prosperity in Changilo village.

The evening became more sentimental after I opened a jerry can of home brewed beer and we broke out the instruments. Adam had recently moved to a village about 12 kilometers away to work with agro-forestry projects and he brought his mandolin to the festivity so that we could jam a bit. Raised near Tazwell, Virginia, he knows a good bit of the bluegrass and old-time tunes that I picked up during my schooling in Blacksburg. The local men (women do not drink in public until they are very old in Lala culture) danced an instinctive clog as we played the music of Appalachia into the cool Mkushi night.

A Peace Corps Landcruiser picked me up on a quiet morning a few days later. I have never bid someone farewell with more literal honesty than I did at that moment. There is an emmense love in my soul for those farmers in the Mkushi hills and I wish only the best for them. They have undoubtedly taught me more than I could ever teach them and they have changed me forever. I am proud to be the one called Ba Nkalamu by the Lalas of Changilo. I'll carry this with me for the rest of my life. Mshale bwino ba Changilo, Nalebafaluka ifwe. Ndefwaya kubwela nobeline.

I hardly had time to process my emotion before leaving for Solwezi in the North-Western Province of Zambia on my first assignment, facilitating a week-long appropriate technology workshop. I would be taking over as the volunteer program coordinator for appropriate technology in October and the workshop functioned as a "training by fire." Luckily, I didn't have to fly solo as the outgoing volunteer program coordinator and volunteer logistics manager were on hand to make sure that everything was on track. B is taking over for the logistics manager so I had a competent partner in crime throughout the workshop. B and I facilitated sessions on design, problem framing, resource management, and design assesment during the first few days and then broke participants into groups based on interests indicated via survey.

The four groups were responsible for designing, constructing, and testing three technologies each. Using the design tools provided earlier in the week, participants adapted technologies to fit the needs and resources of their respective communities and then set about fabricating the devices that they designed. This approach recognizes that Western industrial designers cater to about 10% of the worlds population. Fostering a culture of innovation in the other 90% will not only breach previously untapped pools of ingenuity but empower rural inventors to use their poverty as a means to create sustainable and effective solutions. Each volunteer participant had to apply with a Zambian counterpart with the idea that the two will work in tandem to bring appropriate technology thinking to their village.

The four teams also worked on a "design challenge" project in which all of the group developed different designs to solve the same problem, keep pests out of foodstuffs using only bush materials. Later in the week, we brought in several local women (identified as the target user group for the devices) in as a random sample group to test the devices and give user feedback. Our sample group provided insight that the designers applied to their other projects, allowing them to begin to think as a user as well as a manufacturer.

B and I helped acquire materials, guide the groups by asking user related questions, as well as helping with labor in a few instances. We also set up and demonstrated a few technologies of our own throughout the week across three distinct categories: Pedal powered machines, water santitation/irrigation, and alternative cooking methods. The demonstrations inspired the teams by showing how a mechanical (simple machines) or chemical (using electricity to turn salt water into chlorin) principal can be applied to solve a problem in a resourceful way. We were on hand during the workshop to relate the principals demonstrated directly to the designs of each of the respective teams. At the end of the week, we invited people active in the Solwezi community to come and see what we had accomplished during a "technology showcase." Participants had a chance to let users try out their designs and explain how they developed the idea from concept to construction.

Pedal powered machines are one of my favorite concepts, especially if the bicycle is still a functional mode of transport after the modification. This maize sheller cranks out kernel after kernel about twenty times faster than by hand and the bike can still be used as a mode of transport. This device comes as a kit from Global Cycle Solutions for about 30.00 USD and the modification takes about fifteen minutes. We used this model alongside a pedal-power cell phone charger to demonstrate how cycling energy can be harvested in a variety of ways.

North-Western province produces alot of honey. The wet tropical environment is ideal for the type of vegetation that allows the bees to thrive. As a result there are numerous companies purchasing raw product for processing that offer better prices for pressed honey. The problem is that honey presses are expensive and largely unavailable to farming communities. This team set out to design a functional honey press out of broken jerry cans and wood. The resulting prototype was able to crush the comb and harvest honey but proved rather difficult to clean. The team redesigned the press by the end of the workshop and intends to build it with the assistance of carpenters in Mwini Lunga district (West of Solwezi).

Jatropha trees are also found in abundance in North-Western province. The trees were brought in years ago when leading economists cited jatropha oil as one of the next great renewable energy sources. The group that I am partnered with, Southern Bio Power, purchases large ammounts of jatropha seed to produce biofuel for generator and automotive use but there is little that small jatropha growers are doing to benefit from their trees in the village. One potential application is to use the raw oil from a village press as a fuel for laterns. Unfortunately the oil is too viscous for a wick so the latern must pressurize the fuel. Using a gravity fed fuel well and a charred maize cob for a wick, this lamp burned for several days. The team constructed the lamp from an old bottle, can, bottle caps, and tubing to demonstrate how a gravity fed system with a more porous wick can create a highly efficient jatropha oil lamp.

Every Zambia road has a substantial ammount of litter alongside. Travellers and tourist routinely throw all trash out of the vehicle with the assumption that burning season will erase all traces. In the villages, children use the litter to fashion toys, but little is done to clean up the roads in towns and cities where wild fires can't reach. One team decided to address this problem by developing different uses for discarded plastic. The most interesting concept involved roofing tiles made of old plastic bottles and melted plastic bags. To test the idea, the team constructed a small demonstration. Photo-degradation of the compounds in the plastic got cited as a potential challenge over time and we are looking forward to seeing a full size house tiled with plastic for an acurate empirical test.

Wood charcoal is a major problem in Zambia. Deforestation has become endemic due to population growth and increased demand for cooking fuel. This made alternative cooking methods a popular topic at the workshop. This simple metal cylinder uses packed sawdust as a cooking fuel. The dry sawdust is packed around a pole that connects to an air intake at the bottom of the cylinder. The pole is removed during ignition and the sawdust provides a steady source of heat for about 4-6 hours. We found out just how efficient the stove is when we went to empty it out in the morning and found that the fire was still burning. Lumber mills in Zambia routinely burn their sawdust piles to dispose of them so this technology could provide an additional source of revenue for mills seeking to cut down on waste and deforestation as well as a fuel source in deforested areas.

Pop-can stoves have been used by backpackers in the States for years. I constructed this one with two soda cans, some sheet metal, and an old tin lid. All of the materials were pulled out of a trash pit. The bottoms of the cans were cut off and put together to create a closed compartment. This was the hardest step as fitting two cans of the same diameter together without creasing either can is not an easy task. Once the compartment is formed, small holes were nailed around the top for gas to escape and one large hole was put in the center to allow me to fuel the stove. To use the stove, I put four cap-fuls of rubbing alcohol (1 liter cost 3 USD in Zambia) into the stove via the fill hole and then covered the inlet with the cap from a coke bottle. The stove is on the tin lid with a dash of spirits spilled on it and the lid is ignited. The flame on the lid quickly boils the spirits inside the stove and sprays out of the top holes under pressure (Boyle's law), ignited by the flames underneath. The stove looks very much like a gas burner and is considerably efficient. I constructed a triangular windscreen/pot holder out of the sheet metal for ease of use.

Dehydrating foods is one alternative method of food preparation that is already alive and well in Zambia. Sun drying caterpillars and mushrooms is a traditional activity during rainy season but success is completely dependent on the weather as it takes several days to completely dry something in the open air. Using the greenhouse effect to harvest solar energy, food can be dehydrated much faster and without damage from rain or pests. This dehydrator uses a greenhouse chamber to feed hot, dry air into a food compartment. The compartment is ventilated to the allow continous flow of hot air.

These are just a few of the designs that came out of the Solwezi workshop. The real work was empowering counterparts to become inventors. To inspire the spirit of creation in our participants was worth alot more than showing off all these cool machines. Although, I must admit, the technologies are pretty cool.

The appropriate technology volunteers from 2011 passed the torch to the 2012 coordinators at the Solwezi workshop.

Cold season has arrived with a surprising velocity. It is as though all of the bitter winds from arctic climes had accelerated beyond braking speeds and brought a chill that doesn't usually exist in this part of the world by accident. In all actuality, the temperatures are far from extreme. It is more the lack of refuge and stark contrast with hot season that are an issue. These conditions appealed to my sense of self preservation and sent me North, towards the equator, to the more temperate province of Luapula for the July 4th holiday. Lake Bangweulu at Samfya was as beautiful as ever and her beaches still held the heat of a summer now gone from Mkushi's windy mountain scape. Our party shared the holiday with a few miners, some teachers from the States, and a church group engaged in mass baptism. The braii (cookout) was a highlight of the weekend with everyone chipping in on a great group meal. Max and I did our part by playing music for the party until neither they nor ourselves could stand it anymore.

After the festivities were over, I only had a few days in Changilo before heading a few hundred kilometers South-West to Chipembi. The number of new volunteers brought to serve as part of the Peace Corps Zambia family has grown with every intake. Now the training site in Chongwe is no longer sufficient to have both the Community Health Improvement Project (CHIP) and Rural Aquaculture Promotion (RAP) intakes training at the same time. Chipembi was identified as a viable training site for RAP given the local resources; an agricultural college and a girls' secondary school make up the majority of Chipembi "township." Thus the development of training center facilities were relatively simple, the challenge lay in finding adequate community resources for our trainees. Our team arrived the second week of July to address a community that had never heard of Peace Corps with the goal of turning it into a training site for 38 Americans fresh off the boat. We started by trying to find existing fish farmers in the area that could assist us with hands on training. Unfortunately, most of the ponds that we found had fallen into disrepair years ago due to poor management.

Our team located a basic school some 8 kilometers away that had semi-functional ponds nearby and they were happy to have us stock the ponds for them. Next we went to nearby villages and identified homestay families for trainees to live with during the training period. My job consisted of greeting families and explaining that: A) white folks can speak Bemba, B) white folks can eat nshima, and C) white folks don't mind living in a thatched house but we are a bit tall. I was the first white man that several of the families had met that spoke a local language so simply being around was enough to convince them that we were serious about bringing Americans to live here.

After a few weeks, Chipembi was just about ready for trainees to arrive. Our team went back to Lusaka to await their arrival (we finished with four days to spare) and I left team to go back to Changilo to a hut that would no longer be mine in one month more. We were preparing the site to train our replacements. We were getting ready to hand our lives over to complete strangers whose competency would depend largely on our own.

Peace Corps turned fifty years old this year. To mark the occasion, volunteers in Central province organized a country-wide celebration for volunteers and representatives from the organizations that we work with. Administration had concerns about having the event in Lusaka so we decided to invite them to Serenje instead. We set up exhibits to display several aspects of volunteer work and life in Zambia as well as a volunteer art exhibit and Peace Corps trivia game. I helped set up the Appropriate Technology booth and performed a little music with my friend Max (who coincidentally is also from right outside Charlottesville, Virginia). The event was such a success that Peace Corps staff decided that they did want a celebration for volunteers in Lusaka after all as well as small provincial celebrations. A few volunteers in our province got this table built and detailed as a 50th birthday present to Peace Corps.

I had my Close of Service (COS) conference this month. Peace Corps Zambia holds this meeting at a wonderful resort right outside of Lusaka called Chaminuka. All members of my original intake group were called together one last time to talk about our time in Zambia and begin to prepare for the next step. Our number had dwindled since July 2009 and emotions were high for those of us left standing. It was great to be able to see everyone and enjoy good food and drink after we had each had such vivid experiences. Peace Corps sprung for the full package with all meals, game drives, and activities accounted for. We all enjoyed the cheese cave (not an actual cave made of cheese, what a misnomer) after being deprived of artisan cheeses for so long. We also proved that "bottomless wine" does not apply to twenty some thirsty volunteers. The proprietors claimed that they had run out but I still have doubts that this was true.

B and I took advantage of a morning game drive to check out the small private park managed by Chaminuka. We saw wildebeest, hartebeest, hyenas, lions, and giraffes. We spotted a giraffe family getting breakfast at a nearby acacia tree and they were amicable enough to allow us to pose. We kept our distance given the presence of the calf and our desire to not piss off the tallest of all extant land mammals. It was strange to realize how fast the past two years have gone. The feeling of attained momentum in the programs and projects had finally come to us all and now we were being asked to apply the brakes. Accomplishment, sorrow, pride, and fond sentiment cannot begin to sum up what we felt those three days at Chaminuka. Heading back to our villages for the last time struck a chord with us all, it was time to move on and the time had come all too early.

This lion was behind a chain link fence. This was a good thing as he did not take kindly to Bosco's taunts regarding the NBA playoff games. We were concerned about the structural integrity of the fence and decided not to further press the lion on favored basketball teams.

This month I prepared to leave the village. I knew that my schedule for the next eleven weeks wouldn't allow time to finish everything I started and in a sense I would never have the time. Even if I had another two years in Changilo, the type of work we do in Peace Corps does not have a finite ending that I would ever be able to see. Coming to terms with leaving my community had to start now.

I held my last workshop on Appropriate Technology. Having been nominated for an extension position coordinating the Appropriate Technology program for Peace Corps Zambia, I felt that it was fitting to show my community the kind of work I would be doing over the next year. Appropriate Technology empowers rural Zambians by providing training in mechanical design, innovative problem solving, and science education. I had introduced the program to Changilo last year when we designed, built, and operated a charcoal kiln to process maize cobs and for my final workshop I invited the participants to choose a problem to address. The community chose to tackle diarrea in children.

Using problem framing techniques, participants determined that incidences of diarrea could be dramatically reduced if children were encouraged to wash their hands. The challenge was to design a technology that would encourage children to wash their hands after using a pit latrine. The community then designed a hand-washing station using design criteria and assessment tools to satisfy their chosen requirments. The hand-washing station had to be cool, fun to use, easy for children to operate, and perform its function well. Participants designed and built an improved "tippy-tap" hand washing station to test their idea and found that the device was indeed fun for children (to the point that kids on my compound routinely drain all of the water washing hands, feet, face, etc.). The station was constructed out of a few poles, rope, a brick counter weight, and an old plastic jug. The participants all declared the project a success and spent the rest of the afternoon discussing alternative designs to build hand-washing stations at their own homes.

I am all at once sad, happy, relieved, and anxious that my last workshop is over. I traveled to the homes of the farmers that I have been working with over the past two years and felt an overwhelming range of emotions as I reflected upon the impact that Peace Corps has had here. I am the second volunteer to have served in this community and I have seen that the system works. Many farmers are now teaching each other about inter-cropping, fish farming, bee keeping, and business skills through conversation, demonstration, and cooperation. Many people no longer feel helpless, do not wait for donors to give them the tools to progress, they use what they have to get what they need here and now. I'm reminded of what I said at my first meeting: "there are only two things you can depend on: God and yourself. God will bring you into this world and take you out, everything inbetween is up to you. No one will ever help you like you can help yourself." I'm not sure where the sentiment came from but It's right on.

The rainy season is leaving us again. The showers come less and less and everyone knows that soon they will finish. Early maize is harvested for family consumption, the take still too small for sale. To outwit the random showers, families hang their maize from the ceilings of nsakas (traditional outdoor cooking shelters) to dry. The smoke from cooking fires drives away pests and dries the maize in the lee of the roof. I find that this imparts a certain flavor to the maize meal that is produced and makes nshima superior in both taste and texture to the bland commercial brands available in town.

Zambia has its fair share of socialist holidays and for many rural Zambians these days pass without notice. For Youth day this year, the school held an event with the focus on young women. Restless Development volunteers worked with the teachers and myself to coordinate a day-long show of culture, drama, and educational activities at Changilo Basic School. Restless Development is a non-governmental organization that works at schools to promote female empowerment, equality, and HIV/AIDS awareness in Central and Copperbelt provinces. The show we organized at the school featured dramas and poems written by the children in which the young women dealt with sugar daddies, abuse, and living in an area with a high HIV/AIDS prevalence (It is estimated that 17-21% of people are living with HIV/AIDS in Central province).

The dancing was the highlight of the day as the girls group we started last year as part of Peace Corps GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) program led the crowd in a cultural tour of Zambia's many diverse tribes. The girls each wore the traditional dress for each tribe respectively and taught us about the customary foods, ceremonies, clothing and crafts from each region. They concluded their tour with a spectacular dance presentation that brought in several participants from the crowd.

The Easter holiday came late this year and fell within a couple days of my birthday. Zambia has about five national holidays during this time (Easter Thursday through Monday) that are considered holidays by Peace Corps as well. I decided that it was time to visit Northern province, the only part of Zambia I had yet to visit, and make my way up to Lake Tanganyika by Easter. B and I, joined by a small group of friends, hopped a chibuku (maize beer) truck heading North and began to make our way through the Muchinga hills.

Mpika is the first town one comes too heading due North out of Serenje. A little over a hundred kilometers from Lala land, Mpika is where the great North road splits in two and the well maintained branch to the West runs to Kasama and Mbala. We took the Eastern branch towards Nsoka and traveled up "Danger Hill" (that is the honest-to-God name of the place), over house sized pot-holes, and past burned out wrecks of tractor trailers in search of the Kapisha hot springs. We reached our destination in one harrowing afternoon and set up camp by the natural hot springs. Kapisha is adjacent to Shiwa Ngandu house, a historic farm house that now operates a resort, and the two are owned and operated by the same family. They are very fond of Peace Corps volunteers and all of us were loath to leave their hospitality after just three days.

Kapisha staff dropped us off on Kasama road at our request to begin hitching North to Mbala. We met up with more volunteers in Kasama and contracted a bus to take us all to Mpulungu. Zambia's only port, Mpulungu sits just West of Mbala on the shores of Lake Tanganyika. The Lake boarders five countries and is the deepest of the rift lakes. It is a huge source of wild caught fish and Mpulungu has flourished with the trade. We spent the night at a small lodge and hired out a boat the following morning to take us to Isanga Bay about three hours away. Isanga Bay is only accessible by boat during part of the year and is secluded enough to enjoy unspoilt nature but the lodge nearby provides enough amenities to feel comfortable. The campsite that the lodge maintains right on the beach was pristine. We celebrated Easter as a family with a braii (cook-out) and games on the beach.

I made it back to Serenje in time for a quiet birthday celebration with friends and of course, cake.

I returned from Zanzibar refreshed. One would be hard pressed to visit such a wonderfully unique place without feeling inspired. Changilo in March is quite pleasant as the rain limits its presence to late afternoon showers that prevent the harshest rays of the sun from heating the Earth beyond comfort. It was time to stock the large production ponds farmers had been working to construct since last year. We choose to stock impende (red-breasted bream; Tilapia rendalli) from a Department of Fisheries (DOF) brooding site in nearby Chalata. Given a lack of support from FAO and DOF vehicles in the area despite attempts to schedule far in advance (note the FAO vehicle in the background of this picture, the driver was alternating between impressing the female technician and using his cell phone to talk to friends in Lusaka the entire time we were there. Money well spent, America?). Local farmers and I opted to schedule a series of cycling trips to ferry the fingerlings to our new ponds in Changilo. This process always began early in the morning to take advantage of cooler temperatures. Fingerlings are supposed to be purged in advance to cut down on metabolic processes in transit but this is often not done due to inadequate quality assurance measures.

The fingerlings were carefully loaded into twenty liter plastic jerry cans, filled with 16 liters of clean water, each can holding 160-180 fingerlings. The cans were tied to our bicycles with rubber straps fashioned from blown out innertubes. By 08:30 hours we began the return journey through the bush just as the sun began to get hot. The best option for this circumstance is to keep pedaling and pray for rain. If the cans get too hot, the fish will die. If the cans are jostled too much, the fish will die. If the dissolved oxygen drops low enough, the fish will die. We had an hour to cover approximately 15 kilometers of washed-out bush path to deliver our unweildy precious cargo. We arrived without incident, having paused once to add dissolved oxygen to the containers with a portable bike pump, and placed the cans in the water to allow temperatures inside and outside of the containers to equalize.

We covered the cans with wet grass to shade the plastic and waited for the temperatures to balance. Once confident that the fingerlings would not go into shock due to a rapid change of temperature, we opened the lids and allowed pond water to flow into the containers. Allowing the fish to swim out of their own accord to minimize damaging them. I demonstrated this process a couple times a week throughout the week until farmers were confident enough to do it without my assistance. Altogether we stocked upwards of 6,000 fish using bicycles this month. I cannot express the joy of the farmers and their families when they see the fish swimming around the ponds that took so long to build. And I cannot express how great it feels to be tired, muddy, and wet at the end of the day knowing that hundreds of kilos of fish will be harvested six months from now because of the work we did today.

You can order anything in Zanzibar. With programs on auto-pilot and having accrued leave by not traveling over the Christmas holiday, B and I decided to head North and find out if this euphemism had any ring of truth. The largest cultural event in East Africa, the Sauti za Busara music festival, happens to come around in February and we felt that it was as good a time as any to check it out.

Our trip started in Serenje. The Tazara rail line runs between Kapiri Mposhi, Zambia and Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. The line is the result of a Chinese backed development project from the 1970's intended to ease trade between Zambia and Tanzania but much of the service has fallen into disrepair due to inadequate maintenance. The passenger trains are known for their disregard of schedule, random stops, and customer service that leaves much to be desired. This is the perfect mode of transportation for any adventure. We boarded the train in Serenje and crossed into Tanzania the following morning. We rocked through green rolling mountains and through part of the Selous, the train startling giraffes and elephants as they grazed the wilderness.

We pulled into Dar es Salaam on the third night. It was immediately apparent that we had arrived in a large capital city, heavily influenced by its predominantly Islamic population. The streets were packed with hustlers, the Indian food was amazing, and the harbor was bustling with trade goods. Dar es Salaam is unlike everywhere else I've yet visited in Africa. The heat at night was thick and oppressing but one still felt electrified by all of the activity happening, a different language around each corner.

We took the "fast ferry" (apparently it is faster than the alternative) to Zanzibar island the following day. Two hours out from Dar es Salaam the turquoise water began to thicken with dhow boats fishing and trading. We rounded the island and got our first view of Stonetown, the administrative capital of Zanzibar. Stonetown had been a flourishing trading port for centuries and the dynamic influence of the Arabs, Indians, Portuguese, and British who tried to tame her is visible in the skyline. The architecture of Stonetown is a beautiful amalgam of every culture who ever plied a trade. Zanzibar is a semi-autonomous part of Tanzania and although technically part of the larger sovereignty, it is largely self governed. This was made abundantly clear by the Zanzibari immigration officials who greeted our ferry and refused to allow several of our party entry to the island. My friends and I were held back because we did not have adequate proof of having ever received the yellow fever vaccine. Peace Corps administered the vaccination before we came to Africa but the WHO cards that documented this were locked in the records room of our Lusaka office. Unfortunately we were unable to reach the Lusaka office due to restrictions on international calls. In the end we agreed that 5,000 shillings (a little over 3.00 USD) each was enough for the immigration officials to go ahead and let it slide this time and we were free to enter this wonderful island.

Fortunately the tourist trade is relatively new and although Zanzibar is considered a premier destination in the Indian Ocean, Stonetown is still a medieval town with deep roots. Many streets are a little over a meter across and none of them follow a straight line. It is an enjoyable afternoon to be lost in Stonetown and walking in circles through nameless cobblestone alleys. One of my favorite aspects of this is the door watching. Most of the doors in Stonetown are ornately carved with beautiful designs in exotic wood. Many of the doors are ancient and have suffered from the elements over the past century or so but I love this place that is so connected to its history that the past still breathes.

During Zanzibar's heyday in the 19th century, the island was home to sprawling spice plantations that supplied world demand for vanilla, nutmeg, coriander, cinnamon, and saffron. Following the abolition of slavery on the island, many of the plantations faltered and what remains are modern operation that cater to organic markets. Most of the plantations cater to eco-tourists these days and it was relatively easy for us to find a great spot right outside of Stonetown. Our guide had us pick and taste vanilla, curry, and cumin as we wondered the wild looking plantation. We ended up at the ruins of the Sultan's bathhouse nearby and joined a larger group of sight seers heading to see Zanzibar's "slave caves."

Further up-country are a series of caves allegedly used by plantation owners to smuggle slaves in and out of Zanzibar after the ban was imposed. The caves are still used as a water source by nearby people who avoid going to them alone. We toured the area and then took off for white sandy beaches nearby. Zanzibar is at about 4 degrees latitude and the days can be unbearably hot. Oppressed by the heat, we took off into the waters off Zanzibar's Eastern shoreline and swam with the dhow boats and tropical fishes for a few hours before returning to Stonetown.

Inspired by recommendations from fellow Peace Corps Volunteers in Zambia, we left Stonetown for a few days to visit the small fishing village of Matemwe. The town sits on Zanzibar's East coast and is home to several small lodges including our destination, Ally Keys. The lodge is a picture perfect locale for back packers and is staffed by a group of happy-go-lucky Rastafarians who spend more time hanging out with the guest than stressing about work. The "laid-back" vibe is contagious and it was great to spend a few days not worrying about a thing. Our meals consisted of whatever was caught that morning (either calamari, crab, king fish, octopus, or lobster) and our schedule was non-existent. I'd recommend this place to anyone that finds vacations stressful.

By the weekend it was time to head back to Stonetown to catch the last three nights of the Sauti za Busara music festival. Passes were relatively inexpensive and well worth it to see the wide range of music, crafts, and documentary films being offered. The festival is held in the middle of an old stone fort built by the Portuguese in the 16th century right in Stonetown. Highlights included bands from Mauritius, Somalia, Mali, Zanzibar's own Bi Kadude, and several films. The music and dancing goes until almost sunrise with locals and people from all over the world gathering to celebrate East African culture. One band from Zambia, Nomakanjani Arts, even invited B, Ashley, and I onstage to show us traditional Zambian dances having noticed our enthusiasm for their performance. To their surprise, we performed the traditional dances without instruction and sang along in fluent Bemba. Although the group was disappointed that their time tested joke that white people can't dance was a flop, they were excited to find out that we lived in Zambia and promised to stay in touch.

The nightlife in Stonetown is vibrant. Alcohol is not widely available outside of those establishments that cater to tourists but seafood is in abundance. The nightly seafood market at Forodhani gardens is the most conspicuous reminder of the Oceans bounty. Lobster, crab, scallops, clams, octopus, fishes, squid, and shark are just a few of the options available at the extensive open-air spread. Merchants set up tables daily to sell the catch of the day and cook the seafood to order on the spot. Bargaining and taste-test are common as are the cats who keep a watchful eye for anything that falls off the skewer of some unlucky patron. After a year and a half in a land-locked country, we were in heaven.

Zanzibar was amazing. Following the final night of the music festival, we boarded the "fast ferry" back to Dar es Salaam and found our way aboard the Tazara train heading South. We were tired, happy, and inspired by our visit to such a culturally rich place and we all shared the same sentiment: life is good.

Rumba is alive and well in Africa

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A killer violinist from Tanzania

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I would love a Zanzibari door for my hut

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B and Ashley snorkel around the reefs offshore

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Hands down the coolest dhow I've ever seen

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Waiting for my foot to heal was not a high point in my service. Compared to life in the bush the office can be pretty boring. Not being able to travel only compounded my frustration and malaise started to set in by the second week of January. Thankfully, my program director sent me down to Lusaka as a trainer for part of the month. Rural Aquaculture Volunteers from the 2010 intake were reporting for In-Service Training and I was asked to come down and speak about the more business oriented aquaculture going on in my village. The break from Serenje was welcome but talking to folks about Changilo just made me want to get home as soon as possible.

During my visit to Lusaka, I met briefly with the medical team and they gave me the green light to go back to my post. I had opted out of putting my foot in a cast during rainy season due to my commitment to avoiding "jungle rot" and similar skin conditions. This caused a little apprehension among our medical staff who were worried that the injury would heal slower without protection. Understanding our respective concerns, we settled on my absolute promise not to walk on my foot for a month. I held up my end of the bargain and we all went home happy in the end. Back in Changilo I found that everything was going well in my absence. The rains had been generous to our crops and several fish farmers had successfully harvested, sold, and restocked fish. My animal friends were a little more protective than usual, holding a steady vigil on my porch, and I had to come up with several tricky ways of getting out to visit farmers without being followed by either Lt. Pickles or Winston. Most of these tricks involve rope.

Another great surprise was the multiplication of my poultry. I am not entirely sure where they all came from but I suspect that a few neighborhood chickens have gone AWOL and ended up staying in my coop. Several of the additions I recognize, they were chicks when I last saw them but they are of the right breed. Some are quite obviously faking it and come from breeds that I had not yet seen in my village. I have yet to find out who they actually belong to as my family insists that they are mine and I will most likely leave the situation unresolved. My brother, Garth, has recently gotten engaged to a wonderful girl back in the States and seeing as how the Lala tribe traditionally gives all kinds of livestock for bride price payment and wedding presents, I might as well keep the chickens around.

The rains came last month with violence. They washed out roads and Fields, drown crops and termites; they cleaned a half year of dust and sweat off the land and up came the bush. Now the rain is settling and doesn't like to work regular hours. Now the days are peaceful, fragrant, and humid.

In between the showers, I visit neighboring farms to discuss organic fertilizers and business plans. The informal talks over cups of monkoyo (a traditional non-alcoholic brew) that take place in the damp and smoky nsakas (outdoor cooking shelters) are a rewarding part of my service. It is clear that several farmers here are putting their knowledge into practice and will be able to continue advancing themselves without help from outside organizations. It is a beautiful thing in Peace Corps to work yourself out of a job and it looks like I'm on the right track. I'm also pumped about my banana tree (pictured) starting to fruit. The trees only produce once and must then be cut down to make room for the succors to grow and mature. I wont be around for another harvest so I've been employing manure tea to bump up the production.

Caterpillars are back! Nest full of Mopeni caterpillars were moved from deep in the bush to certain trees in the village that were marked with an axe to indicate their purpose to passerby. The trees, safe from potential harvest for fuel or construction, provided food for the young caterpillars for all last month. Now that they are being harvested and dried, everyone in the village is enjoying the treat. I have found that they work well in most stir fries when the crunchiness is maintained. They remind me of pistachios but have a distinctly different aftertaste. Did I think that I would have an affinity for caterpillar a year ago? No. But you really have to give these things a try. I've also heard that there are medicinal benefits but sources are conflicted on this one.

I finished December laid up. Having broken the fourth metatarsal on my left foot in a construction accident, I was inclined to forgo travelling for the holiday. I'm not even allowed to go back to my village until late January. I spent Christmas and New Years sitting in various locations around the office with a few friends. B and I have triumphed over the Central province movie collection and become expert cribbage players. I also found this very cool looking insect pretending to be a leaf (pictured). I am frustrated with myself for not being able to get back to Changilo for the December fish harvests but I'm beginning to realize that I needed a break of some kind. I just wish it didn't have to involve my foot.

The wind and rain have returned with full force to our mountain village. Days are now regularly retired with brief but powerful downpours that send the precious topsoil, weakened by months of dehydration, into the seasonal river that cuts Changilo in half. As the agrarian calendar begins a new cycle of production and farmers make use of every clear-skied moment in the fields, I am resigned to what has become my "reading season."

This time last year, I was in the midst of my "community entry." The first assignment in the service of any Peace Corps Volunteer, get to know everything you can about your catchment area, was all at once exciting, strange, exhausting, and wet. Now I feel at home here and on most days, I just feel wet.

This is the view of my yard during the first solid rain of the year. It came out slightly better than my attempt to photograph the hail stones that followed soon after and if you look close enough you can see that my entire yard has started slowly migrating downhill. A common phenomenon in November, the erosion is largely due to the lack of ground cover around villages and is symptomatic of the desertification plaguing sub-Saharan Africa. The reasons for promoting agro-forestry species that help hold down and rejuvenate soils have never been more apparent. The early rains have no mercy for the loose dry earth but are a gift from God to the rural farmers who will count every rainfall now that the season has started.

On lighter notes, Lt. Pickles (our young vervet monkey) is terrified of the storms. I think that this must be his first experience with rain given his apparent age and the fact that he has become nearly impossible to keep out of my hut during the downpours. It gives me to opportunity to clean the wound on his foot and provides a source of entertainment. I have recently determined that it is much easier to mimic a monkey than to be mocked by one and that the phrase "monkey see, monkey do" is either a fallacy or a mistranslation and in any case not true. I will undoubtedly have more time to study the depths of this falsehood as the rains continue and I run out of books to read.

Getting out of the village for the semi-annual provincial meeting was a welcome respite from the rains (my area seems to be in some kind of meteorological anomaly as it was not raining in Serenje). Peace Corps Zambia tactfully schedules the November gathering to coincide with Thanksgiving to make sure nobody goes too stir crazy and it works. It certainly gave me something to be thankful for.

October is the hottest month in Central province. The temperatures reach little higher than the typical Virginia August yet seem unbearable given the relative lack of respite afforded by an uninsulated hut. Water is in shorter supply, it hasn't rained in six months, and I find myself stretched out on the concrete floor throughout the midday hours for no one is out working in the heat. The most discouraging aspect of the only real hot season month in Mkushi has to be that acceleration of decomposition; the speedy destruction of my perishable pantry. This year I built a simply clay pot refrigerator to prolong the shelf-life of my precious fruits and vegetables and found that it worked so well I could even keep dairy for about a week. The unit is composed of a small inner pot nested in sand inside a larger one and covered with a lid. The sand is then saturated with water and as this evaporates through the unglazed pots and sand to the the outside, it takes the heat energy from the center chamber and leaves the contents nicely chilled. MIT's Alternative Technologies program pushes this system as a low cost way for vendors to keep crops on market longer. My fridge works well enough that several residents of Changilo, and a census worker, want to put one together themselves. I'm just happy to have chilled fruit after a ride back to my house in the sun.

October is also a time when a lot farmers in my area prepare for tomato season. The process entails the hiring of piece workers in most cases as the sheer amount of land to be prepared by hand is staggering. To help cover this expense and feed these workers (often distant relatives) my family began harvesting cassava. Cassava grows under almost any condition, requires little care, and can be harvested anytime after two years. The root must be soaked and rinsed to remove harmful toxins and can then be pounded into flour for nshima or roasted. It has virtually no nutritional benefit but functions well as a food security crop as it can be grown with such little upkeep and I find it filling and delicious. The Bembas of Luapula are known to mix serious amounts of cassava with their maize flour when making Nshima but its a little harder to find down here in Mkushi and I'm enjoying a little something different.

My family got a new friend this month and although I've had difficulty in determining his species (most locals say they haven't seen this type of primate before), the kids and I refer to him as Pickles. Caught in a snare deep in the bush, his foot was cut nearly in two when a young trapper found him and brought him to me. Bembas find monkey meat to be a delicacy and my family had no qualms with purchasing Pickles with the intention of eating him once he gets bigger. I'll admit I'm curious about the dish but right now I'm more worried about healing that foot and making friends.

After a particularly embarrassing fall and a nearly rolled ankle, I decided to do something about the large number of maize cobs littering my yard. The year's harvest has finally finished being shucked and stored for its trip to the grinding mill and left a wake of maize cobs throughout my village. They can't be composted, too acidic, they can't be used as feed, whats to feed on, and burning them in the cooking fire produces more smoke and carbon monoxide than anyone should spend time around, especially the women and children typically given the task. It turns out that the cobs produce a great charcoal when the carbon monoxide is ignited and the oxygen removed inside a kiln. Building the kiln cost me thirty-six mud bricks and a day's labor laying them down. A successful workshop and the subsequent disappearance of maize cobs from my village, priceless.

The family kids enjoyed listening to a few tunes and pressing out the briquettes the following morning. After the cobs were charred, we filled a sac with them and beat it all into a homogeneous powder. This was mixed with a small amount of boiled cassava flour and water which has the properties and consistency of glue. The mixture was poured into old tin cans and pressed with a bit of wood cut to size and then the finished briquettes were set out to dry in the sun. The community was impressed with the ease of the whole operation and the quantity of free clean burning fuel that we produced. I'm now planning to construct a small rack to fit the kiln so that it can double as a smoker for the preservation of fish that local farmers would like to preserve.

Its hard to believe that I moved into that village one year ago this month. Taking the oath of service on September 24, 2009, I had no idea what was in store. To celebrate the occasion, I took a celebratory trip up to lake Bangwelu in Luapula Province and had a wonderful evening camping on the beach with my friend, B. We met up with a trio of friendly German cyclists who had travelled from Eastern Province, over the Mchinga escarpment, and were passing through Luapula on their way to Northern Province and Tanzania with the hope of making it up to Dar-es-salaam. They had unfortunately lost their road bikes in transit to Africa but had managed the trip so far on the local Chinese steel (bikes that weigh around 40 kilograms and are anything but a nice ride). We shared a camp fire and the beautiful piece of lake upon which we happened to meet and then we parted ways the next day. I returned to Changilo refreshed and ready for another year.

The FAO project team, accompanied by our illustrious Department of Fisheries representatives, paid call this month to check on our progress here and announced that my farmers were ready to seek out the necessary start-up loans now that the structural requirements are complete. As tomato planting season heats up, most farmers are shifting gears and focused on applying for fertilizer support loans anyway so the scheme appears that it's going to work out. I took a bit of this free time to work on a few other projects geared towards sustainable farming like building the rabbit hutch of my dreams. Admittedly this was more to bolster my protein intake in the village than a development program as many Changilo farmers keep rabbits, but the manure isn't going to hurt my demonstration perma-garden either.

I also put up a raised chicken coup for harvesting eggs and manure. My prize hen, Annabelle, just hatched chicks so I won't be eating her anytime soon. The coup is raised off the ground which allows waste to fall onto the ground for easy collection and prevents the spread of diseases like newcastle, which strikes village poultry stocks every few years and kills indiscriminately. My last chicken coup fell victim to rainy season termite swarms this past January and I have high hopes that by spreading the oil of tephrosia trees on the supports, I can save this one from a similar fate.

The end of the month brought the inswa (edible termites) up from their winter berths under my yard and into the hands of waiting children. They collected a good bag of them for me and I have to say that they aren't that bad in a stir-fry if one isn't reminded of the fact that your eating bugs. I also found them incredibly fun to try to catch. I recieved a small group of trainees aspiring to become Central Province fish farming volunteers for Peace Corps in the final days of August. I took them around to practice interviewing farmers, staking ponds, and harvest fish. They enjoyed Changilo and a quick trip down to Kundalila falls but I'm not sure they dug the bugs. All in all they're a good group and should be make fine volunteers when they swear-in next month.

The cold of a mud and thatch hut can make it difficult to get out of bed at sunrise. Several unannounced Landcruisers bearing UN ensignia arrived at my compound around this time, prompting notions of an unexpected evacuation for security reasons or any other emergency that my lack of cell phone network would prevent me from knowing anything about. Fortunately for everyone involved, the cruisers had come to talk to me about an FAO food security project advancing the development of commercial fish farming. High potential zones were being surveyed around Zambia to focus on moving subsistence farmers into producing yields capable of supporting the huge domestic demand for fish.

As Zambia's natural water bodies suffer from widespread overfishing and a decline in harvest capacity, the overall demand for fish has increased exponentially due to a rising population and improved transportation infrastructure. The Department of Livestock and Fisheries chose my area as a rural pilot project to create a model of how experienced small-scale farmers can expand existing systems into more business oriented large-scale production. After a brief survey of farmers in Changilo, the FAO team had me bring this program to the people I thought could get it done.

Three weeks later, seven Changilo farmers had successfully renovated existing ponds, about a hundred meters square on average, into five hundred meter square production ponds. The dikes have a shorter and steeper slope as the fish will not be breeding during cultivation and increased volume is a priority. Now that construction, largely by hand, has been completed we've moved on to developing the business skills necessary to manage a commercial operation. With the great people of Changilo, that looks like it will prevent no significant challenge.

Provincials. An opportunity for the whole family of volunteers from across Central Province to share skills, exchange ideas, socialize, air dirty laundry, and to catch up on the pleasantly fickle policies of our capital staff. After its all over, we can get back to work. This month, the farmers of Changilo self-sponsored a workshop series on integrated farm management. My job was to head up sessions on perma-culture organic gardening, tree nurseries, supplemental feed production for fish and livestock, and organize the whole thing. I needed to call in a few favors and bring out volunteer experts on beekeeping, livestock management, and gardening, as well as district officials from the departments of agriculture and co-operatives, forestry, and livestock and fisheries.

Two days of gardening, lectures, presentations, and of course, good food, with the assistance of four other volunteers and the people of Changilo village led to a surge in interest throughout the area. Demonstrations of composting and producing natural pesticides have conspicuosly led to adoption at several farms and 'nitrogen fixing' has become a new local buzzword. Immediate results aside, the participants constructed a community demonstration perma-garden with the intent of using the site for future workshops on organic farming. I am hoping to assist the development of self-sustained farming systems over the year via more workshops and one-on-one consultancy at individual farms.

Winter has come to Mkushi with overcast days and windblown nights. Aside from sporting a new skylight in my thatch, due to the shifting air pressure of the mountains ripping at my roof in the dark hours, I have come to realize that the sub-tropical bush gets much colder than I was led to believe in America. Never would I have guessed that icicles could form on the grass hanging over my porch. As maize harvest begins to conclude, farmers in the village have the time to build fish ponds and practice more environmentally friendly (read less subsidized chemical fertilizer use) farming techniques that take a little bit more planning but payoff in higher yeilds and lower expenses in the end.

I spent the week of my birthday visiting B in Luapula at her village outside of Mansa. I felt like stretching my legs a little bit and getting a change of scenery. Having another volunteer cook for me on my birthday wasn't so bad either. It turned out that I share a birthday with one of her nieghbors so we made two gorgeous cakes and enjoyed ourselves immensely. B lives on the grounds of her local clinic and shares the area with employees and their families rather than the family compound style of residence that I have in Mkushi. As a result, the local children frequently stop by to see what we're getting up to and found great entertainment in watching us do the same menial chores and activities of village life that they see every day.

I also had the opportunity to visit Kundalila falls in nearby Serenje on my way back to Mkushi. About sixty kilometers up the great north road from Serenje boma there sits a dusted sign, obscured by the rust of a dozen rainy seasons, that marks the turn for a national heritage site somewhere south of the tarmac. Following the indicated road brings one to a quite unremarkable camp ground that fails to belie the nearby view, one of the most spectacular that I've seen in Zambia. Behind a stand of trees and rocks as convenient as christmas wrapping paper lies the edge of the plateau upon which most of Zambia sits. One looks over the beginning of the Luangwa river valley that separates Central and Eastern Provinces with a few hundred kilometers of wild game reserve. The falls were a short hike down into a gorge south of the campsite and were no less beautiful that the preceding view of the valley. We swam all day and spent the night at the humble camp site above.

Back in Changilo, the more experienced farmers assisted me with the staking of several new ponds in the North-Eastern part of our village and at the local school. Community involvment has been the keystone of activity since my move into Changilo and continues to be the engine that keeps me going. Knowing that the work Peace Corps volunteers are doing will continue far beyond the tour of duty provides an inherent satisfaction that makes the best out of even the most difficult of days. Of course, the beautiful commute to work doesn't hurt either.

The past several weeks of tapering rain have dissipated into crushing heat, giving opportunity for volunteers all of the country to take advantage of the Easter holidays to stretch our legs and venture out of our post for the first time since January. I travelled with my friend Brittany to Mongu, the capital of Western Province and the seat of the Lozi tribe, to witness the largest tribal festival in Zambia. The Kuoboka, meaning "movement from water," takes place every year around the first week of April to celebrate the centuries old annual migration of the royal family from the rainy season palace to a dry season residence. The royal family is moved on elaborate boats from Lialui, the royal island village on the Zambezi flood plain, up the river to a second palace outside of Mongu. The festival was unfortunately delayed by several weeks due to an unexpected death in the royal family so we missed the big event by chance this year but I was able to pursuade the royal guards to allow me a few photographs in the royal village in exchange for a couple American cigarettes.

B and I hitched back down the Western road into Kafue National Park after a few humid days in Lozi land and rested our heels at the Mukambi Safari Lodge on the Kafue river. We had spotted a few elephant in the area from the back of an empty dump truck on the way to Mongu and wanted to check out the wildlife a little more closely. Given that our original plans had to change due to the delay of Kuomboka, we jumped at the opportunity to spend time around this world reknown superhighway of rare birds, hippos, and crocodile. The dinner menu at the lodge was also noteworthy and the short stay acted as an absolutely amazing early birthday present for myself.

The stay often found us riding through Kafue park in an open back Landcruiser at sunrise in search of Africa's big five, the tourist wildlife most associated with Victorian era exploration and the safari experience. Rainy season brought the savannah grasses up to over a meter in height and made it impossible to spot the large predatory cats who relish this time of year for the abundance of game and ubiquitous camoflage of overgrown bush. Elephant are numerous in the Kafue river basin and we saw quite a few of this beautiful mammal. This young bull was found feeding at dawn atop a termite mound adjacent to our camp. I snagged a great video but was unable to load it for you guys due to the limitations of Zambian internet access.

We were able to spot side-stripped jackals, zebra, puku, kudu, impala, springbuck, baboons, and several amazing birds. Kafue park is a world reknown bird watching locale and the only natural habitat of the Queen's Babbit, a rather small yet impressive species. Our guide seemed dissapointed by our reaction to spotting one and informed us that one a year is seen on average in that area of Kafue park. Wattled-toed cranes, condor heron, hippos, and crocodile populated the area immediately next to the river and livened up our mid-day boat tour safari down the river. I found the hippopotomus to be quite a bit more dangerous than the crocodile, as they are apt to charge any boat that strays to close (thankfully they can't actually swim, they just walk on the bottom of shallows), and preferred watching impala graze by the lodge.

After an action packed stay at Mukambi, we hitch-hiked back to Lusaka and headed into Southern province, destination: Lachinvar National Park. This reserve is tiny compared to the giant Kafue (the size of Switzerland) and is listed in the Lonely Planet travel guide as difficult if not impossible to travel to without a chartered flight. Indeed the park boast no lodges or accomodation of any kind and is mentioned by the guide seemingly just to dissuade visitors. However, Peace Corps volunteers who have survived living in the bush will basically go anywhere they damn well want to go. We pulled into Monze late in the afternoon and negotiated to ride into the bush with a local farmer who dropped us off a mere fourteen kilometers from the park entrance. We were fortuitously picked up within minutes by who else but the Department of Fisheries. The field officer found my work in Mkushi very interesting and insisted on taking us to Lachinvar to see his research site.

Our host took us around to the all of the traditional sites that we had come to the park for and delighted in supplementing what we had read in the ever cynical Lonely Planet travel guide. The great hollow baobab tree had been a site of traditional practice for centuries before the land was purchased for farming years before being granted as a national park. The local members of the Tonga tribe holds that entering the tree is a cleansing experience but that turning your back on the spirits withing will result in a series of misfortunes for the offender. Given the circumstances of our arrival, we found it wise to exit the tree by walking out backwards just to be safe.

The park is also home to the drum rocks. Carved out of a great hollow stone upon the floodplains are pitched drums marked by centuries of usage. One is able to craft percussive melodies on this ancient natural instrument. These drums have been used in traditional events for generations and it was a pleasure to play them and follow in a long continuum of music creation. In addition, the park also has a population of water buffalo, red lechwe, and a natural hot springs rumored to have healing properties. We enjoyed our tour of the park and set out on our way back to Lusaka the following day to get back to where we once belonged.

Rural Aquaculture Promotion is geared towards improving the capacity of farmers in rural Zambia by working as a Department of Livestock and Fisheries field officer within the village community. The imbasela (sweet bonus) of all this is harvest day. Complete with celebratory fish fry and the fruits of six months or more of steady pond management. Changilo has quite a few farmers who have cultured the same stock for over a year without a complete cull and that can mean alot of stunted fish as the breeding cycle allows for eight or nine generations within this time period. With no fresh stock, inbreeding can take a toll on the working fish farm. As the rainy season begins to draw to a close, a primary goal has been to undergo long overdue harvest and start over with fresh stock from the nearby Chalata production site. We try to use traditional baskets to harvest as much as possible as the free mosquito nets from the clinic are loaded with pesticide thats great for preventing malaria, not so much for a nutritious meal.

Harvest day starts with the cutting of the dike wall and creating a drainage furrow, steadily increasing in depth, with a hoe just before sunrise. Around mid-morning it's time for the fun to begin as the water level has become low enough that fish can be gathered with a modicum of effort and the whole family gets involved with catching, cleaning, sorting, weighing, and selling. Finally the pond will be let to dry completely and crack on the bottom to destroy disease and the eggs of invasive species before refilling the pond to prepare for stocking the pond again.

New volunteers have arrived in country and as they begin training outside of Lusaka, those who have fulfilled their two years of service prepare to depart for life beyond Peace Corps. These folks were my mentors and source of support throughout me first few months of service, helping to guide me through the sometimes confusing world of volunteer life. It was a shame to see them go but such is the way we have chosen and it was a pleasure to spend a few final days with some great people. I wish them the best of luck in all of their future adventures.

Rain, rain, and more rain. Rain in my yard, rain in my house, rain in my clothes, and under my skin. February in Lala land is a time to reflect upon the abstract facets of life. Those that live inside the mind and are the only dry survivor in this world of wet. Write songs, read books, carve wood, and fend off imposhi. Imposhi are ants that swarm, eating everything in their path before passing on without a trace, covering the earth for less than a day before they themselves are swallowed into the great equatorial horizon. The ways to stop them are few: lines of cornmeal and/or ash and burning anything and everything. Unfortunately the rainy season makes the latter option near impossible to accomplish and in this corner of the world, ants move when the forest's table is set and the bounty of month long rain is on the plate. My host family used every option available to save ourselves and the livestock that forms a village bank account. Before my very eyes, a safe and pensive distance from the stings and bites, the reddish tide of ants turned aside, unable to cope with an unexplained line of cornmeal. They say it's old magic, I say thanks.

Life indoors also allows for plenty of chess, when the opponents are available. When they didn't find me I went and made a place to find them. Changilo Basic School now runs the meanest game around at weekly meetings of the Changilo Chess Club. Chess is considered part of elementary curriculum in several nations around the world due to its ability to expand the players' critical thinking capacity through regular play. I can tell you that after a few rough sessions, once the club really got into the swing of things, I stopped being able to win games and I take that to be a very good indicator of success.

The rain isn't all that bad after all and they say that it's going to end pretty soon. The bees are swarming, the fish are growing, and what few workshops don't get rained out, people really seem to enjoy. I even managed to get Changilo beekeeping off the ground with the help of a very dedicated local farmer. I still can't wait until I can get around again without arriving soaked and/or covered in mud, but before that day comes I will do what I can in the beautiful place I've come to call home.

The completion of community entry, the first three months living at post, is marked by the In-Service Training conference held in Lusaka, Zambia. Volunteers from all over the country are brought together for a week-long seminar detailing workshops and information sharing sessions to aid in program development within our respective villages. The opportunity to see everyone from Pre-Service training was welcomed by all and as the stories and bottles passed around the days, we all felt a little bit more connected to something much bigger than ourselves.

The workshops offered much needed training on beekeeping, clay pot refridgeration, perma-culture gardening and community action planning. Techniques and methods to promote income generating activities are critical to addressing the needs of village farmers who lack access to the educational materials necessary to develop their operations in a sustainable way. A training staff of hardened Peace Corps veterans and experts brought in from accross the country afforded our group a meaningful week that will benefit our respective communities greatly.

The volunteers were invited to bring along a community member who we have found to be of great assistance with our first three months of work in the village. Our counterparts took part in community action planning seminars to assist in the implementation of effective assessment and execution of development programs. The idea is simple, a community volunteer who resides in the village will be far more effective in achieving sustainable goals than an outsider who is going to leave in two years. The fostering of community volunteers with access to the same training materials as Peace Corps volunteers will have a greater impact for a longer period of time. My counterpart, Mr. Mashisha, lives just down the path from me in Changilo and was delighted to attend ISTT with these goals in mind and remains excited about our joint beekeeping initiative to be implemented during the February flowering season. As for me, I'm just happy to have a village elder on-board to make Changilo an even better place to live. 2010 is off to a great start.

Planting season in Changilo village runs concurrent with the annual spell of consistent rains that slowly slake a soil thirsty after months of sunshine. Much of Zambia is experiencing a drought and, although my village seems to be exempt from the ruinous lack of wet weather in the South, village elders are still concerned over a noticeable reduction in rainfall over the past few years. My work in the village has slowed quite a bit as the schools are out of session until mid-January and everyone is planting Zambia's staple crop, corn, while the getting is good. This provided an excellent opportunity for R&R (with Peace Corps' goals of cultural exchange in mind of course) in the nieghboring country of Malawi. Spending my Christmas Eve on a series of buses (at the end of a two-day hitchhiking epic just to get to the border), I arrived at Nkhata Bay, Malawi in good spirits shortly before midnight.

Our party found lodging at Mayoka Village Inn, just outside of the small town of Nkhata. The lodge is made up of several chalets across a waterfront mountain side and is positioned so that the porch of each cabin provides flattering views of Lake Malawi while completely obscuring ones nieghbors. The resident members of the Tonga tribe make their livelihood via traditional fishing techniques and transport themselves with ease in hollow-log canoes. The vessels proved difficult to pilot but became navigable with a modicum of practice and a lion's share of dedication.

The locale also provided our group with numerous hidden coves and beaches to explore, provided one mastered the canoes and had a fondness for snorkeling. Denizens of Nkhata bay are well accustomed to the backpacking traveler type and seemed to enjoy our company greatly without the pretense of catering to tourist. I spent one pleasant afternoon relaxing on the beach with a few volunteers and a group of local children who did not disagree at all with our intentions of starting a small football game and locating nearby cliffs to leap from. My Bemba lingual prowess meant little in the midst of Tonga and Cewa speaking children I made due with sign language and mimicry, communication devices that have been of great assistance ever since my arrival in rural Africa.

The Wildlife surrounding Nkhata Bay was stunning and my only regret is that I carried my camera on my person more frequently to accurately capture their activity. Out on the water, one may spear a small fish with hollow bamboo (for buoyancy) and call to the fish eagles who live upon mountainous coast to come and grab an easy snack in exchange for a photograph. With a hand motion and a shrill bird call, the eagles are alerted to the proposition and arrive in accordance with the established agreement to receive their pay. This fellow has been named Tony Blair by the local guides and has no qualms about taking fish from strangers who have paddled out to the cove in which he resides.

The local primates are known to have considerably less respect for the human population and do not wait for an invitation to arrive. This little guy arrived to watch our group eat breakfast and to find an opportunity to bring himself to our table for his own share of the victuals. He did not get the chance however as the locals are well acquainted with the designs of a devious monkey and are well equipped to run them off the premises. Although they do not eat the primates like my own Bemba tribe, they are not fond of the proclivity for larceny found in many of the species.

I made my way back to Zambia following a fantastic New Years celebration on nearby Chikale Beach. I found myself the champion of a dance contest at Mayoka village and was given free lodging for the evening as well as a few drinks for my efforts. I choose to present a traditional Lala Bemba dance for the Tonga judges who were stunned to see the musungu gone bamayo and expressed their admiration justly. Live music under a full moon concluded 2009 in style as the waves of Lake Malawi ebbed away the old and brought in the new bit by bit.

The first rains of the coming season have brought about a wild transformation in the sub-tropical forest of Central Province. The trees have exploded in lush green, insects have multiplied a million times over, and giant wild mushrooms have sprung up overnight. The fungi are rumored to grow large enough to harbor small jungle deer and are brought to market by mushroom hunters who know just where to find them in the bush. I regularly seek out the smaller samples available from the hunters as these often take several days to consume and although the mushrooms are easily the best I've ever tasted, I have little desire to eat mushroom for every meal.

November is time for most farmers to begin planting the maize crop as the heavy rains are yet to arrive and the soil is receptive to the work. Those with fish ponds begin to ready for harvest in December during the national ban on wild fishing activity that allows for higher prices to be had at market. My life in the village has been guided by both of these seasonal demands but I still find time to relax and hang out with my friend Jeffit. We've always gotten along well and I'd already suspected a latent kinship when he sported this handsome shirt found at a local second hand clothing merchant. November is also a time for Peace Corps Volunteers to hold their provincial meetings and gather together to discuss the important issues of our time. The most important of which is the menu for our Thanksgiving feast, an event I am sorry not to have properly documented but perhaps it is for the best.

Following the provincial meeting, I took the opportunity to visit a few friends at Samfya beach. The shores of lake Bangweulu are endless stretches of white sand and the water a serene pool reflecting the skies all the way to the horizon. The weekend was a much needed refresher after the frantic atmosphere of the provincial houses for both the Luapula ladies and myself. The visit also provided me with insight into the lives of the wild fishermen who populate the Luapula river islands to bring in the exotic, and threatened, tiger fish that grow larger than a man's leg in these waters. We often hear of the ecological havoc wrought by these men without motors who fish the depths as their fathers did generations back but rarely see the faces of their families or the humble encampments designed for transient efficiency. Many ignore the fishingbans and push the tigerfish closer to extinction out of custom not spite, not avarice. These are not the activities of rich, unscrupulous poachers but a livelihood employed to feed children in a place where alternatives are out of reach and tradition dictates future actions. Yet another place in the world where people are just trying to get along and further evidence that nothing, even debates about species preservation, is ever cut-and-dry.

Changilo is a quiet agricultural community located in the Mkushi district of Central province. My compound is made up of five homes, including my own (pictured far right), in which resides the family of noble patriarch, Ba Chibuye. Having made my home here for the past month, I have developed a domestic routine and become acquainted with many of the people with which I will be working. My primary objective is to promote improved fish farming techniques in the rural setting and I have found many auxiliary projects to involve myself with as well. Working with school officials, I am designing a supplement to the Agricultural Production Unit curriculum that will involve a fish pond surveyed, constructed, stocked, and managed by 9th grade students. 67% of whom, on average, will not continue their education and choose to integrate themselves into the local community. In exchange, I am taking Bemba classes with 8th and 9th grade students in order to further my understanding of the language while undergoing a cultural integration through interaction with area youth.

Weekday activity has a chronic dependence on the sun. Waking around 05.00, I light my charcoal brazer to produce coffee and breakfast and sweep my house while I am waiting for water to boil. By 08.00 I have usually eaten, fed Winston, bathed, washed dishes, swept my house and yard, and am headed off to visit farmers or go to the school. In the afternoons I simply relax in the shade and enjoy myself. Winston-Salem, esq., my faithful canine companion, typically follows me throughout the day's routine although I am trying to dissuade him of this habit. His favorite activity has so far been eating nshima on my porch with me and being far more interested in what I am eating than his own portion. I am grateful for his companionship despite the fear he instills in the locals. Barring an evening of drinking ubwalwa (village maize beer) with my neighbors, I am in bed by 19.00 nestled under my mosquito net and managing the days text messages.

One of the many perks of living near expanses of African bush is the number of exotic plants and animals that I encounter on a regular basis. This area is reputed to be home to lions, apes, and digers (a small and delicious type of jungle deer), although I have yet to venture far enough away from the settled areas to encounter them, the stories of their behaviors are harrowing in the least. I have made encounters with several benign and ill-benevolent members of the reptile family including chameleons, bearded dragons (which I had kept as pets in Blacksburg), and black mambas. Tropical fruit trees are ubiquitous in Changilo and I highly anticipate the coming mango season as each day the fruits seem to be a little bit larger. I have already discovered that avocados frequently grow to the size of a human head in this climate and the wonders of fresh bananas. Mkushi is certainly a place of undiscovered natural beauty and wealth.

Having arrived at my post late last month, I was able to set some time aside to explore the district of Mkushi in which I am based. A band of Peace Corps Volunteers traveled to the site of Wonder Gorge to see this national treasure firsthand and find respite from the demanding routine of life in the field. This venture offered spectacular views of the gorge as well as an exhilarating climb down from the precipice into the waters below. Challenged by wildfire, curious baboons, and the frequently vertical orientation of our descent, our group of volunteers were able to arrive at the river basin unharmed and enjoyed the rapids whilst the fire that we had outrun burned itself out in the flood plane. Our summit of the charred mountain proved to be less difficult than our climb down as the forest ground litter and tall grasses had been graciously removed during our time in the water. Neglecting the fires sweeping through these hills I was struck by similarities between this equatorial oasis and the great Appalachian mountains of Western Virginia. The adventure certainly made Mkushi seem a little bit more like home.

As our training period began to reach a much anticipated conclusion, we traveled North to Luapula province for a week of hands-on technical and cultural immersion hosted by a Rural Aquacultural Development volunteer. The trip allowed us to experience one of the most distinctive regions of Zambia and to get our first real taste of life in the African bush. Ntumbatushi falls in Kawumbwa features several sets of cascading water and basins bowled out of the rock by the ferocious volumes of rainy season. Visiting this area whilst the water was at its lowest point during the year allowed us to make use of the small river that winds its way through the elevations to cleanse ourselves and recreate after a hard days work in the field. RAP volunteers are known for a work hard, play hard philosophy and our training will ensure that this proud tradition is carried on into the next generation.

The cultural and technical sessions were guided by the expertise of a veteran Peace Corps Volunteer based in a small village near Mwense. Many of the daily task demanded of village domesticity and associated with work in Rural Aquacultural Production were made clear as a small group of us lived alongside our host for the a little over a week in order to see just what we were getting ourselves into. The majority of our party are going to be based in the Central Province districts of Mkushi and Serenje for the next two years, living alongside the Lala tribe, a sub-group of the greater Bemba tribe family and cousins to the Bembas living in Luapula. The highlight of our immersion into the Bemba world was a festive celebration held under a full moon in front of the house of our expert trainer. The village children began to gather in the dark and called our group out of the house with chants led by a conductor playing an upturned jerry can in the center of the gathering. We were brought into the center of a growing circle and prompted to dance as the crowd of local youth sang, drummed, and cheered us on. Later in the evening, we were treated to a theatrical performance of several village tales complete with choir, drums, and costumed actors. The dramas featured anecdotal accounts of animals, spirits, and people interacting in strange and often comical ways. Told in Bemba, the plots were a bit convoluted to the English ear but provided for an entertaining and enjoyable end of the night.

As I near the completion of my first month living in Zambia, I have finally found the time to post. I have been adopted by a kind Zambian family of the Bemba tribe and have been living with them for the past three weeks. My bamayo, or mother, has taken great care to provide for my domestic needs (when one considers the lack of electricity and running water this is quite a feat) while my batata, or father, has been of great help in my struggle to learn the language of the Bembas in record time. Our compound is located near Chongwe in Lusaka province in a small village that has become very near familiar over the fortnight. This picture shows bamayo, batata, myself, and my sister (bankashi) Mulenga posing in front of my thatch roof hut in our yard. Mulenga is very fond of clinging to my person as can be observed when bamayo Carloline breaks to halt her approach.

Most of my time is spent at the training center about 10K down the road in technical courses on fish farming and formal language class. The Peace Corps approach seems to be based upon the idea that if one is given more information than one can possibly retain that the difference will be worth the mental exertion spent. I am enjoying this training period however and am very excited to be a part of an organization with a proven positive and sustainable impact (unlike almost any NGO I've seen here).

This photo demonstrates the industrious nature of African ants. The small mound to the left is in fact the roof of a house that is dwarfed by anthropodal construction in an extreme sense. These anthills are a dominant feature in many parts of Zambia and are in fact used by members of the Tonga tribe to measure and divide tracts of land. I have also learned that these anthills can be the source of freshwater springs as they are often so old that trees begin to grow upon them and the ant tunnels function as straws when the trees exert a force of capillary action. This can be very useful as much of my work in the field revolves around finding sources of clean water to source a furrow when not building in the dambo, or low lying areas. I have not been informed as to the location of my site and look forward to finding out in the future, making sure to post whenever I can. To conclude, Zambia is a wonderful country and the 21st century is a very exciting time for Africa and the world. I'll leave you with a picture of the next generation of Zambians, this group can be found in my immediate proximity whenever they can help it, who have a wide world in front of them.

My last night in America. Tomorrow I will embark on a day-long winged sojourn to my new digs in Zambia. The registration process today allowed all of my peers to meet their future colleagues and get acquainted with what will be expected of us in-country. Anxiety and aspiration are both rival and lover in the affairs of the future. I do take solace in the fact that we are together and that I am not going on this adventure alone. The less than rapid introduction to my fellow volunteers was enlightening and productive as we filled our hotel boardroom with our shared hopes and common fears.

The past week has been a whirlwind of farewells and forgets as I have sought to prepare myself for what will soon become much more of my life than a simple occupation. My family has surpassed all in the name of understanding and support and lend faith to my growing commitment. My number one girl and best friend has been there every step of the way and given nothing but encouragement in the face of a prolonged separation of the likes we have not yet known. Meg snapped this shot of my final radio broadcast as Reverend Sevren on WTJU's "Can't Say I've Heard It" yesterday afternoon during a sudden rainstorm in an otherwise parched Charlottesville. We spent the day enjoying each other and trying to load up our cerebral granaries with enough sensory memory to get ourselves through the coming distance. The Peace Corps will be a challenge to more than myself.

In trial truth is born and I cannot wait to find out who I am when everything I have ever known is gone. This weekend I will visit sites in Zambia that will become increasingly familiar to me in the coming months as I preview my own future station. Yours truly and ever optimistic, I will have arrived.

Fond farewells to my quiet college town of yesteryear, I have come and gone. After a midnight stand at Fellini's #9 on Monday with iRon Lion, I hopped on down to Blacksburg to see a few familiar faces and favorite places. The town has kept moving in my absence and has taken on the dream state of estranged familiarity. It was a pleasure to talk to old friends and see how Blacksburg is changing. This is a photograph taken of the New River at McCoy. It has and shall for sometime still remain one of my favorite places to visit.

On the home front: The Rock and Roll Cannibals will be eating brains out with a switchblade spoon at a private party tomorrow night and The Greg Ward Project is bringing I and I conscious to Fellini's #9 in downtown Charlottesville on Monday. Garth, my pedagogic elder brother, will be arriving on Monday and staying until I leave. There comes time for every family and with ten days counting, the hour is high.

1777 saw several unofficial celebrations across the colonies employ a thirteen-gun salute at sundown on July 4th to honor the commitment of Independence made one year prior. The modern day celebrations can be a marvel of high-tech bacchanalia or a modest summer day spent with family and friends. My 4th subscribed to elements of the former yet maintained the dignity of more intimate festivity.

Meg and I spent America's birthday on Lake Anna, located near Mineral, Virginia. We shared a day of water sport with our friend Kirsten, her family, and a few other friends near the nuclear power plant in Louisa county. The elaborate modern fireworks display undoubtedly was not a celebration of our man Periello's hand in the successful passage of an energy tax in congress. Although the tax will eventually benefit efficient facilities like North Anna, it is not a popular initiative with many of the power plant's employees for obvious reasons.

Meg and I spent July 3rd in Shenandoah National Park near the infamous Old Rag. We were able to backpack up Robertson Mountain and then down to Broken Back River in time to make camp and cook dinner. This 10.5 mile hike took us on one of the steepest trails in the Blue Ridge Mountains that includes a near 2000 ft. descent within a single mile. Sore and ache all aside, we were both pleased at our ability to cover so much difficult terrain in one day and hike our way out of the park the next morning with ample hour left to drink and cavort our hearts away at Lake Anna. The pleasures of Independence.

The Old News: Last weekend's tour put my proficiency as a reggae saxman to the fire as I found myself onstage with Ever G and Peanut (Culture) in front of several hundred fans who did not seem particularly eager to hear the white boy playing the black man's music. The concert in Hampton was a success however and I look forward to posting some of the media recorded by the venue. The next performance in Mason, OH was a family oriented park gig with a couple hundred people sitting in the sun and staring us down. Despite the complete lack of movement on the part of anyone over the age of ten, several people inquired about merchandise which I take as a desirable litmus reading for any show. Check out a video of my work backing up The GWP Band in Mason right here. Our return to Charlottesville was a return to business as usual with a notable increase of seasoning to flavor our audio entrees. Serving up at Fellini's #9 and Coup de Ville's felt like putting on a great pair of shoes after a good rest. Ready to hit the ground running and in my case, cross the finish line.

After bagging my second wild rabbit of the season, I came upon a rather enjoyable way to prepare dinner at Singlebraid with primarily local ingredients. The current trend favoring local fare over the processed and often nutrient bare products of global agro-industry is rooted in the infant logic of conservation equals gastronomics (see Slow Food Nation; Calro Petrini and/or Animal, Vegetable, Miracle; Barbara Kingsolver). Our booming rabbit population here on the farm is in dire need of predatory control and I have just the recipe to entice denizens of the commonwealth to step up to a statewide issue of ecological importance.

Roasted Rabbit with Turnip au Gratin:

1 wild rabbit; skinned and cleaned

marinade:

2 tbs soy sauce

1/4 c olive oil

1 tsp fennel seed

pinch garlic granules

pinch onion powder

1/4 c vodka

1/4 c sherry

1 : mix marinade ingredients and pour over rabbit in container suitable to the task and set aside for a few hours in the fridge.

stuffing:

1 tbs butter

1/4 c diced apple

1/4 c diced onion

1/4 c chopped celery

1 clove chopped garlic

1/4 c bread crumbs

pinch fennel seed

1/8 tsp salt

1/8 tsp paprika

2 : preheat oven to 450F and remove rabbit from marinade.

3 : saute apple, onion, celery, and garlic in butter for a few minutes on medium heat and remove to mix with remaining ingredients. Stuff rabbit with mixture and bind with string to hold in the good stuff.

4 : place rabbit on a roasting rack and slip it into the oven, dropping temperature down to 350F as you go. Set a timer for 90 minutes and remember to periodically baste with olive oil and a dash of black pepper.

Turnip au Gratin:

3 large turnips

2 tbs butter

2 tbs flour

1/3 c milk

2 tbs sugar

1/8 tsp paprika

1/2 c grated sharp cheddar cheese

breadcrumbs

salt and pepper to taste

5 : peel and dice turnips, setting the greens aside, and parboil in lightly salted water until tender (about 20 minutes). Drain out the water and mash up the turnips with paprika, salt, and pepper.

6 : melt butter over medium heat in sauce pan and stir in flour. When the roux just begins to brown, add milk and stir over low heat until the mixture thickens up. Combine with turnips in a baking dish and top with cheese and breadcrumbs. Place the dish in the oven with your now sizzling wild rabbit when you have 20 minutes left on your timer.

7 : steam turnip greens while the rabbit and turnip au gratin are finishing up. Serve with a little balsamic vinegar.

8 : enjoy your meal with vigor but remember to chew your food slowly to ward off digestive complications known to plague the ravenous eater.

My parents and I found this meal to be both seasonally correct and nutritionally sound. We are recent converts to the turnip and are smitten with both its versitility and efficiency. The crop seems to do exceptionally well in Virginia soil three seasons out of the year and all parts of the plant can be eaten. Although my mother was a bit hesitant to chow down on fresh game, I do believe she enjoyed this particular preparation of the rabbit. Just wait until I bag the next one; bon appetit.

With 28 days left at Singlebraid, I finally have some time to breathe. I finished off a brief tour as a guest with iRon Lion, including Hampton, VA Beach, Norfolk, Charlston WV, and Haggarstown MD, with a show last night as sax man for the Rock N' Roll Cannibals at the Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar.

Despite fatigue, inconvenience, and a new drummer, we packed the house and brought it down to a level of rockabilly filth seldom seen in Charlottesville's little hipster haven on the hill. The Falsies bassists, Morgan Moran, filled in for Rat on the set and kept the boys on point while Tristan once again succeeded in wooing fans and pissing everyone else off by breaking more strings and telling dirty jokes to fill out the set. Again we fail to disappoint. I wasn't able to snag a photo of last night so you'll have to make due with a stock photo from the OBL.

My other band, the Dubsettors, will be bringing roots, rock, reggae on the road this weekend. We'll be popping up in Harrisonburg, Hampton, and Mason OH, and will be pleasing the righteous with performances including Ever G, iRon Lion, and P-Nut. This will be my last series of gigs with the band before I depart for Africa.

In the old news: Meg and I traveled abroad to visit my Aunt and Uncle in London last month to see the sights of the old country. This brief hiatus allowed us to overnight in Paris via Eurostar. If you haven't walked the Eiffel Tower at Night with your lover, here's a little taste of what your missing.

London is, despite what melting icecaps say, a timeless city. One foot is rooted firmly in the traditions of the past while its compliment swings into the twenty-first century with gusto. The radio chip in your public transit "oyster" card will take you to areas unchanged for five hundred years. As an amateur historian, I was immediately enamored with the hodgepodge of distinct neighborhoods that make up the several cities composing London. I was considering trying to live there myself one day, but Pakistan won the Twenty20 championship and the beer is way too bland so perhaps I will simply have to visit in the future.

In consideration of my pending tour with the United States Peace Corps, I have decided to begin logging my experiences in an effort to create a public record for myself and others. This account my not always be accurate, laconic, or interesting for that matter but it will be here. Please enjoy what you can and forgive any trespasses of punctuality that I may commit in the name of convenience (and temporary lack of computer access), I really could care less...If I wanted to.