April 11: Stranded!

Arrive in Lusaka with my crazy 3 bags (Herbert the Sherbet Suitcase, Javier, and Jemma), backpack carry-on, and my "smaller" personal item (actually 3" larger, but possible to squish into place). Originally it looks like Customs is going to be an issue. Miraculously, however, the gentleman decides to waive me through before coming to the suitcase holding the projector and a nearly fully stocked pharmacy to cover anything that might go wrong over a 4 month period. Additionally, he asks for my baggage tickets so I can actually exit the airport and then changes his mind (fantastic, because I didn't have a clue where they were stored and one, in fact, never showed!). Definitely answered prayer. Prayers, though, are still needed.



God is still watching over once I arrive. The night before I had received a confirmation email from the hostel manager that he would pick me up. Well, after struggling to get my suitcases in place and turning down multiple men who wanted to carry my bags, I finally get curbside. There is no person with my name on a sign. After over 20 minutes, I realize I am in serious trouble. I have the email address of Kalulu Backpackers, but not their phone number or address! Yet another, "Doh!" I also don't have an in-country phone nor have I exchanged any money; I haven't even reviewed the exchange rate. I know, I know..."Doh!"

Well, I finally prevail upon Eugene, the representative at Airtel (cell-phone company) in the airport, right before they shut down (it'd nearly been an hour since landing). He doesn't recognize the name of the hostel, but decides to try to track it down. He barely manages to keep from rolling his eyes when I say I don't have any local currency. Well, he shows me down the hallway to an exchange center; they, however, unlike Eugene, roll their eyes at my ineptitude (there's not much I can say; I deserve it!). Finally, Eugene tracks down a taxi-driver, Max, who runs routes for the other hostel in town: Lusaka Backpackers. In the meantime, I ask Eugene for the cheapest phone--all I need is for in-country use, and the ability to call international. I don't need a smart phone or slick games. He sells me a model for 50 KR ($10). I find out later how cheap it is when I let someone borrow it!

Max finally arrives, and fortunately he also knows where Kalulu Backpackers is. I finally arrive, but make quite the stir with my suitcases--which doesn't exactly make me feel secure. The "safe" Sean (the eternally inebriated manager I saw only on my last and final day at Kalulu) had mentioned in his email was actually a closet--thought it was only a little bit larger than a cupboard. So, my suitcases were stored in reception: an outdoor, gated room with bars (though it was open for free entry from 8 am to 10 pm during which time there was only limited observation).

After a lot of sleep and some disorienting rousing, I make it out to Kalulu's outdoor patio/bar/lounge. The night is just getting started (I find out how true that was later) and I introduce myself to three people I see seated at one of the bar tables: Ollie and Dominic from Germany, and Jane who lives in Lusaka.

Ollie and Dominic want to take Jane and I out for dinner. After managing to cram into one of the little, blue buses (four people crammed into the space of two and at least 4 rows of benches) to a nearby mall. While there, we have a delightful Italian dinner. Thank you, Ollie and Dominic!

We decide to forego the small bus home and wait for a taxi. Fortunately, Jane is around to keep us from being ripped off. We agree to meet the next day to visit the compound, The Garden, and school where Jane works.

Then it is time to sleep--cockroaches, spiders, and who knows what else be damned! Unfortunately, I awake to raucous, drunken arguments; shattering glass from bottles; and pounding music--not the quiet African night I had envisioned.