Snake 0, David 30

The dogs went mental, raa, raar, rarr. Raa, raa, raar. Yvonne roused herself from the fire and went to find out what they were barking at. Thirty seconds later, Yvonne was screaming and shouting for a torch. Raar, raar, raar, awhhhhhh, raar, raar, awhhhh. People went crazy! The kids went running first towards the commotion and then rapidly away from it. Eventually I decided I had better get up from my toasty spot next to the fire and see what was going on.

Someone eventually found a torch and by the time I got to the spot the snake was crouched against the wall, probably petrified. “Did you see how it sat up and spat at me?” I heard Yvonne say to Gian as I arrived. In the vague light from the torch that Gian was holding, the snake looked brown with white stripes. There was noise everywhere as humans and dogs got over-excited. Rakes appeared and stones soon followed. The stones were hurled through the air and pounded the poor snake who was rapidly trying to escape the madness and wondering to itself what had happened to what had been only moments ago, a very pleasant evening of hunting frogs. Next Bobby the dog decided he wanted a piece of the action. He dived in amongst the rocks and grabbed the snake in his jaws. Yvonne started screaming for the safety of her dog while the dog yanked the snake from side to side in its jaws. I assumed the dog was a goner but somehow the snake was having too hard a time to be able to bite the dog. Yvonne lost a dog just a couple of weeks ago to the same sort of situation; the dog fancied a go at the snake and the snake caught the dog. Anyway, after much shouting at Bobby he dropped the snake in the grass and Yvonne chased him away. I went around and grabbed the biggest of the rocks that had already been thrown. It was more like a small boulder but I hurled it at the snake, hitting it firmly on the tail, arse! With the snake pinned down by the rock I moved in with the rake. The head of the rake went through a 270 degree angel and hit the rock, clang, bugger! Too much adrenaline was coursing through my system. Again the rake head went whizzing through the air and this time came down hard behind the snake’s head. “Whack” went the rake into the soft grass and mud. Two more times the rake came down until I was sure the poor thing was dead.

“Spitting Corba” was the pronouncement upon closer inspect from Yvonne. Not lethal but apparently if it spits vemon in your eyes then you’ll know about it for quite a while. I felt (and still feel) bad for the poor snake though. I don’t like harming things, especially when they are outside. Next time, I would prefer to trap its head with the rake, pick it up behind the head so that it can’t turn around and bite me and then throw it outside the compound to continue life. I’m not quite sure I’m brave enough to do it though. Time and circumstance will tell I suppose.

Finally, it’s official, I’m past it! I have just said goodbye to my twenties and now stand at the brink of another decade of my life. I celebrated in my own way by working late, then going home to two gin and tonics and a bar of Cadburys fruit and nut. Not my usual stylist or active birthday but there you go, everything is different right now. Now Kerryn, I think the barmaid might finally be right, I might just be too old for those trousers!

Your thirty-something snake murderer in the middle of nowhere

Silly O’clock

Beep, beep, beeeeeep went the alarm clock at 4.25 in the morning for the second time in the last ten days. I wrestled with my mosquito net in a wretched still-asleep state, cursing my own resourcefulness and foresight to put the phone on the table at the other side of my bedroom just five hours before. By the time I disentangled myself from the bed I was awake and by the time I reached the phone, I almost didn't mind the ungodly hour. I therefore decided to forgo the sneaky extra five minutes in bed and just make a start on breakfast. A caffeine free breakfast at that!

Two hours later I'm bouncing along sitting atop a petrol generator with my neck bent at sixty degrees because the roof was too low to be able to sit up straight. We have just started a two-hour journey to the site of a new Taonga school in a place called Kalisowe. Kalisowe isn't even within the Chikuni parish strictly speaking but over the years many initiatives have been done with the community. The latest is this Italian designed school, for grade one to seven (primary school) pupils. We are going because today is the official opening of the school. The Minister for Education, the Bishop of Monze and the second in command at the Italian NGO that paid for the construction are all attending. I'm in the entertainment car that is leaving two hours before everyone else in order to set everything up. Two 300W speakers, stands, clothes and drums cling precariously to the roof of the 4x4; 13 people, the aforementioned petrol generated and a jerry can are stuffed inside like sardines (and we had to leave another 4 people behind!). I couldn't help but remember London underground at rush hour as we bumped, sloshed and skidded along the 'road'. I also thought of the images of those Indian trains with all the people on top; after 20 minutes of looking at the world at an angle, I was beginning to wonder if it wasn't such a bad idea. The people are mostly Mukunzubo people as they are one of the three official entertainments lined up for the day. Normally this means Mukunzubo girls but sadly due to term time and the opening being on a Monday, it's almost exclusively Mukunzubo women, drat!

Zambia is not at all like I was hoping in regards to wildlife. Today we REALLY went into the back of beyonds. Yet I didn't see any big animals, no gazelle, no elephant, no buffalo, no giraffe, nothing, nada, zip. Apparently it's all in Kenya. Bugger! One of the people in the car had been out to Kalisowe the previous week and apparently found a two-meter-plus snake across the road along the way. I duly kept my eyes peeled for a while afterwards but to no avail. The scenery was very beautiful though with wide savannah spread out between hills. When you are up high like we were you are really reminded just how beautiful and remote the place is; Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas any more. And the journey will remain with me for many years to come, but because I was cramped but because of the good humour, the scenery and the mind boggling road, leading through rivers, up the side of hills, past schools, through vegetation that is taller than the car and through awe inspiring wilderness.

The opening went well, though the minister sent her lackey rather than risking the journey herself. A wise thing too as the (sadistic) fathers wanted the minister to see for herself just how bad the rural roads are and so told the locals to not do anything to improve the route. The speeches were quick, the entertainment was good and plenty of locals turned up. However… the best entertainment was on the return journey when we found two of our priests and the bishop stuck in the mud. I've already explained the mud situation but it had rained Saturday and Sunday so the ground was quite ‘soft'. The memory of the bishop up to his ankles in thick grey mud makes me smirk even now. Someone said they had a cable to which Fr. Andrew raised an eyebrow, "A Chinese (manufactured) cable?" he asked. We hooked up to the two cars and Andrew suggested everyone stand back. Five seconds later the cable snapped without the stuck car moving an inch. Anyone who knows Andrew knows what he said next. Those that don't are surely smart enough to work it out. Next up was the rope, which ended up being the winner although it took two attempts. Soon the stuck car was on its way and for some unexplained reason sped away at a terrific pace. A bruised ego may have been heavy on the pedal.

Now I have to do the same thing again tomorrow for another school opening, this time in Namakube. Ah the joys.

Until next time,
Mr. Silly O'clock

A step too far

"Dear Lord, that’s diabolical!" I thought to myself one morning. For us Catholics the Lent season is fast approaching and every year around this time, I decide to give something up, not just because it’s lent but as a reminder that I can live without the things I think I need and as a reminder that people elsewhere don’t have access to such things. Now anyone who knows me even remotely will know my passion for coffee. My body hasn’t been caffeine free since I was sixteen, back when I was in transition year (a gap year after finishing O levels but before starting the A level syllabus) and I had my first cup of (bluuwwkkk) Maxwell House instant coffee (oh how I’ve become the coffee snob). Anyway, since that day, I have had a regular intake of coffee and when I got to London six and a bit years ago, what used to be a regular intake became at least a daily intake.

Coffee in London is spectacular! Quality, variety and access are all there. I have my secret favourite places, in the middle of Soho, Covent Garden, London Bridge, Regents Canal, Holborn, Earls Court, Kensington, Hackney, Stoke Newington, Shoreditch; you name a place in Zone One and I probably know where to get good coffee! Espresso, macchiato, cappuccino, latte, stumpy, flat white, affogato, they are all wonderful depending upon the mood and occasion. I’m practically salivating at the very thought of hearing, smelling or drinking this liquid gold.

Coffee in Zambia hasn’t been quite as bad as I had feared. Living with an Italian has helped enormously! He had his own little two-cup (i.e. a double shot) mocha when I arrived. The priests have both a two-cup and six-cup (oh YES) mocha. Finally, as a lovely gesture, Gian brought me back a three-cup mocha from Italy when he returned to Zambia last month. So I have still managed three and a half cups/shots of coffee a day. The Zambian coffee, as I think I have already mentioned is very good. And I recently found a premium quality outlet that I have yet to allow myself to sample.

Now, back to the opening line of this entry. I was sitting enjoying my morning coffee at home when into my head popped the idea that I could give up coffee for lent. Forty days of being caffeine free. No coffee, no (caffinated) tea, probably no work. This is the challenge my stupid brain has set me. Yes, I am giving up caffeine for lent…

I have obviously attempted to give up other difficult things before, alcohol, swearing and chocolate being some of the most recent. With alcohol, my four alcoholic friends (you know who you are!) suddenly had a big problem with it, continuously whining at me, “are you stilllllll off alcohol?" in the most sarcastic tone they could muster. It was a real eye opener to me, how other people needed me to drink in order to validate they’re drinking. I thought I would struggle but actually I really enjoyed being able to stay out until late and get up bright eyed in the morning, feeling only a little tired. Coffee though is different! Coffee isn’t just an addiction; it’s a necessity, like breathing oxygen! I’m doomed I tell you…

Your soon-to-be, caffeine-free Zombie,
David