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. Checking to see if I have toothpaste 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.)
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. Checking to see if I have toothpaste 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.
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.
Oh, the heat. Hot season starts in mid September, peaks into the deep 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.