Life in Livingstone is mixed. The weeks are hard, and dealing with poverty, illness, entrenched cultural issues and inadequate facilities is quite tough so at the weekends the volunteers take time out, do some of the activities (bungee jumping is not for me - you know that!) and generally try to chill.
On Saturday I decided to have a massage at the Royal Livingstone hotel - partly as my back has been a bit stiff (I'm fine) and also as a wee treat. The Royal Livingstone is something else, and by far the nicest hotel here. After I checked in at the salon reception, my massuese, Bridget, walked me through the gardens away from the centre of the hotel. We walked about 100m; in the gardens there were vervet monkeys - silver coloured with bright blue testicles, and babboons, with zebras grazing around the edge. We came to a white small marquee type tent and walked around the outside to the edge of the river. The tent had 3 sides, and a view over the Zambezi and the edge of Mosi oi Tunya. I had to take a photo, mostly so I could take the time to stop and look. I've tried about a dozen times to upload it onto the blog but you'll just have to use your imagination as its not working. I think it is a view I will never have enough of.
The massage was good - you know how sometimes you worry that you are just going to be uselessly stroked, but it wasn't like that at all. As I was lying there, I could hear thunder grumbling away in the background. After a few minutes there was a huge cracking explosion of a thunder clap right over our heads and the rain came down fast and hard. I so love that smell of wet red earth, and I thought how perfect it would be if a hippo or 2 could magically appear, just to complete the story. I swear almost the instant I had the thought I heard a hippo grunt. I lay there and smiled - it seemed too good to be true, although I think Bridget was wondering what I was smiling at! After the massage ended I sat for a moment or 2 just looking out at the river and the falls but I couldn't see the hippos. I wondered if when I blogged this (I am reliably advised by Martin that it is usable as a verb) I should just pretend that I actually saw the hippos to make a better story, but as I was about to head back and find my friends I saw them rise out of the water and do a classic hippo yawn. I could only stand and watch and try to take it all in, so no photo. Yet another surreal Africa moment, but very different from the others.
The rest of the weekend was quite quiet. At the new house we have a pool, so we chilled there during the day and went for drinks in the evening. So far this week I've been back at the college in the morning and reading at the orphanage in the afternoon. I really like the students at the college, but the so called course leader has done diddly squat work-wise since I've been there, so I've had to tell him yet again I'm not here as his teacher but unqualified assistant. It falls on deaf ears and today he asked me again for money. It turns out that most of the students are not former prostitutes but fee paying individuals with only one or 2 from difficult circumstances who don't pay. Now that the community thinks there is a mzungu teacher there are more students, so they are making more money, but still refuse to buy any course materials or do any work. At the end of the week I'm going to assess with our project co-ordinator whether I should stay there or go back to work at one of the schools and I suspect it will be the latter. The students clearly have figured something is up as today several of them asked me for my contact details. It is, I suppose, not an unusual African experience - things are not what they seem and I'm sure the person who initially got the volunteers involved in this project will be as frustrated as the rest of us when he finds out what's going on.
As well as the project, I also enjoy my daily chats as I wait to be picked up outside Maramba clinic where some of the other volunteers work. There are 2 local guys - Brave and Norman - who also volunteer at the clinic, who usually stop by when they know we are there waiting for the truck to pick us up. Norman is great - he gives me a running commentary on all the people passing by - this one is a shebeen queen and a prostitute, that man hurt himself falling over after drinking too much "illicity" (Norman's word for the illegal brew they make in the villages that is 95% proof), another man is taking firewood up to the shebeen as its used for the illegal brewing. The government and local authorities turn a blind eye to all of this as they don't want to lose the votes of the villagers, but it seems to be a major social problem.
But some things never change - I'm now off to Spar to get some cat food.
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