Back in the, er, swing?

In the three weeks the house was empty over the holidays, the internet company suspended our service. We ran out of electricity. All the food in the freezer thawed, and now it smells like someone died in it. The lights don't work. We ran out of water. Hot water - alas, that's not working either. Crainky, I wasn't gone that long! Welcome back to Zambia!

The first week in the office proves busy. On a ride to a rural clinic to fix a computer, I debate the future of Africa with a coworker. He explains that it all comes down to management, or rather, mismanagement, fostering an environment for corruption to blossom. He is anxious about the secession of Southern Sudan, and what it could mean for the rest of Africa - where there are lots of other very divided countries, granted, none in as grave a situation. On the way back from the clinic, I explain to him how engines work and airplanes fly - complete with scribbles in a notebook. He says he is fascinated, but still terrified of flying.

This week I have had to dawn rubber 'gum/duck' boots and a rain jacket to brave the downpoors. I will be sitting on my computer, headphones on, when all of a sudden it sounds like the roof is going to collapse. A glance out the window reveals that, indeed, the sky is falling. And as it turns out, the sky is awfully wet. There are 6 ft deep culverts alongside the main roads, often instead of sidewalks or a shoulder. They are easily clogged with mud or trash. The water pooring out of the sky quickly fills these drainages, especially when it rains for hours, off and on, for months at a time. One street by my house has a perpetual lake across the middle of it. I instruct any taxi to take the long way to avoid the giant potholes that are forming. The other intersecting road is on an incline. The ground is so saturated at this point in the year, that even a small drizzle starts a small waterfall that cascades its way from the top of the street to the bottom - washing along anything in its way. Gum boots, umbrella, rain coat - they help, but things still seem damp. Without a washing machine or clothes dryer, newly washed clothes hang all over our hallways.

I recently veered off the road on my bike into one of the culverts - guessing wrongly which way
a pedestrian would move when when I rang my bell. Yes, I have a sweet bell on my bike to alert everyone that a Mzungu on a bike - complete with helmet (one of the very few in all of town - you are welcome mom!) is coming along - a sight for all to see. This scene got even better as I flew into the mud and over the handlebars. I guessed which way she would have moved as if I were in the States. This isn't the states, and there are giant mud and trash filled traps that spring up on you when you least expect it!