Zambia is beautiful. Well, I can’t say that for sure. I think that Zambia is beautiful. It could be an acquired taste though. I can’t remember if I thought that it was beautiful when I first got here. I can understand why people would think that it isn’t.
Firstly it is the dust. There is dust fucking everywhere. No matter what you do, you will be covered in dust by the end of the day and there should be a national law against wearing white. Because well it is white. But second of all, certain Zambians go a little heavy on the foundation, and well, lets just say, you can tell the order of their morning routine. Makeup first, clothing second. Checking their clothes to see if they left half of their applied face on the collar of it is no where on the check list of morning routines. Make no mistake, I am not judging them. My family would argue that the same could be said about the order in which I brush my teeth, and checking to see if I am toothpaste gizzed all over my clothes doesn’t cross my mind until really attractive men point it out to me. (I take it as proof that they were staring at my boobs. How else would they have noticed that huge white spot on my black shirt? My idea of self validation works out well for me.)
Anyway, back to Zambia. So there is dust. There are multiple shades of dust as well. If you ever get the opportunity to stroll through a Zambian village you will be privilege to view the amazing spectrum of colors that make up our soil. The woman search far and wide for a good grey, red, crimson, pink , orange or black to smear their huts with.
It should be mentioned that there is so much dust because there are no trees. They tell us that Zambia is the second most deforested country in the world. Second to Brazil. Ask a city dweller who branches out into the country for the first time how much a tree can play up the landscape. Trees do a lot. They are like the push up bra of mother nature. A good bra can do a lot for a girl. Trust me, my chest was, and still is as flat as my back…until I found the right bra that is. Normally I would think that a bitch with a snotty name like Victoria who boasted about so many secrets would be a complete and total bitch that I would never associate with. Instead I give her a mental high five every time so man asks me about the toothpaste stain on my tit.
Then, there is trash. A lot of trash. Not all over, if the infastructure was there, Zambians could be the cleanest people on earth. they sweep everything into neat little burn piles every morning. Typically it seems like they only burn when the wind is blowing in your direction. Just walking to work I could get stoned on burning plastic fumes. If it weren’t awful, it would be awesome, but alas climate change is no joke.
Zambia is also hot. Hot season starts in mid September, peaks into the deeps circles of hell in October, and should start to come down in November. Usually the heat comes down when the rains come. Usually there is a big rain, mid/late November and they just become more consistent until December when you can start to say you are in rainy season now and not hot season. Usually. But this year Zambia has decided to just be one big clit tease and not allow the rains to come. Just dragging out hot season longer and longer. The longer it goes without rains the hotter it gets, because the heat is what snaps the rain into falling. It is like meeting the absolute man of your dreams. I mean the dude is fucking perfect, you’ve already undressed him mentally with your tongue and then you find out he is gay. This is the kind of break from the heat I am talking about needing right now people.
This wasn’t a blog post to bitch about Zambia though. This was supposed to be a post about breathing. I love Zambia. I stayed for a third year when I could have called it a day after two. I love Zambia. I think that Zambia is beautiful. I have found great amounts of inner peace here. Zambia is uncomfortable at times. It can be hot and dirty and smelly. And it can push you into your absolute worst.
Except, you know what always happens to me? The breeze will blow. Or on a good day the wind. I believe that the wind and the breeze are completely independent of Zambia. They are sent to you from a higher power. When you have been pushed to the end. When you are as far outside of “comfortable” as you can be, the wind comes. And when it comes it is such a relief that it forces you to inhale deep. Take it all in and just breath. I do this every. Single. Time. I have found that no matter how upset, hot, uncomfortable, frustrated, or just ready to cry I am, after the wind blows I am ready to handle it all.
The Universe wants you to win. Zambia taught me that. Even when Zambia wants me to loose, the Universe wants me to win. Just take a breath. Breath deep. It will last you longer.