Tropical Paradise

Couldn't resist throwing on some more pictures from Zanzibar. But what is the deal with crappy formatting? Blame it on my mac (hating the blogger site) or my internet ignorance. This aside, pretty amazing place, eh?


The picture below was taken just off "Prison Island" where Peg, some Canadian friends, and I went snorkeling. The next picture was taken in Stonetown where Peg and I wandered around one late afternoon. Its narrow, winding streets remind me a bit of Venice. As the sun went down we watched some boys play soccer on the beach while fishermen brought in their boats and scrambled up rock walls to secure their rigs for the night. Delightful.

Troy Aikman and liturgy

On Sunday I attended Catholic mass with my friend and co-worker Phyllis and I was rather bewildered when the liturgist for the day, after reverently bowing before the altar, turned to the congregation to reveal a baggy, black tee-shirt featuring a gigantic picture of Dallas Cowboy Troy Aikman with helmet dawned and a big toothy grin plastered across his belly. The liturgist stood beneath an enormous, awkward painting of the Last Supper where nine white disciples are gathered around faded gray loaves of bread with the fair, flowing-haired Jesus sitting austerely at the center. I say nine disciples because three of them are decapitated. Age and weather have taken their toll, so the three poor guys hover headless in the background. The windows in the church are hand-painted with scenes of Jesus engaging Africans in daily life. Tools are limited, so the scenes have been depicted using poster paint and despite their crudeness, they are oddly beautiful.

I hadn’t been to mass in years and as I knelt to pray I was properly humbled by the grandmothers that sat on either side of me. There was no complaint on their lips as their kneecaps found the hard, wooden kneeler, whereas my knees creaked in protest. Between the mamas to my right and my left and the hundreds of devoted Muslims I encountered in Zanzibar, I have been reminded this Christmas that discipline is not my strong suit. I rarely find myself in an uncomfortable posture of prayer and I even more rarely recite prayers in unison with my sisters and brothers in faith. Humbling indeed.

A smooch on New Years

Little Jason Smith threw his arms around me and gave me a big kiss during our New Years festivities this year. Jason Smith is 4 and I have decided that it is pure flattery when someone insists on kissing you, no matter the age. We had a Mexican Biesta (Jason has trouble with his r’s) and rang in the New Year playing games with some friends in the neighborhood.

I've maintained my weight

I am happy to report that I have not gained weight. My office-mates assessed me carefully and have decided that I “maintained” while on holiday. This is still a weird phenomenon I have not grown accustomed to, despite its regularity. People are constantly commenting on my weight (“fat” is complimentary). This is a pic of me with some of my Christmas presents. THANK YOU to everyone who kindly sent me lovely Western things. I literally cradled the bag of cheerios my sister sent to ensure they would not get squished in my luggage.

All that blue

I love the Indian Ocean. On Christmas morning, Peg and I traipsed out into the tidepools alongside dozens of women and children who were looking for octopus. Small creatures get caught in the shallow water, so you see children, buckets on heads, tromping through the warm aqua marine water, flipping over coral, to look for the slimy little creatures to sell in the market.
The warm breeze catches the colorful chetenge fabric of the head coverings and skirts of the women, so the landscape is painted with what look like brightly painted flags billowing in the air. Stunning. The afternoon was spent sipping ice cold cokes from the bottle and reading books (Angie sent a wonderful collection of short stories edited by Ira Glass). This was pure self-indulgence people.

The internet is being so slow, so I'll try to post more pictures another time. Happy New Year! Blessings upon you!

Spice Island

My friend Peg just got on a bus this morning to start her long journey home (to Seattle) after visiting me for the last couple of weeks! We spent 10 days on beautiful Zanzibar, which is an island just off the coast of Tanzania in the in the Indian Ocean. Gorgeous.

Nicknamed "Spice Island" this little tropical oasis boasts some of the best beaches in the world with ancient turtles (they stretch out their leathery necks for you to rub them), Callibus monkeys (that can be found no where else in the world), stellar snorkeling and scuba diving, and fresh sea food that is to die for. The island is about 95% Muslim, although the boys that led us on our "spice tour" promptly introduced themselves as "A Christian and a Muslim"-- unintentionally flaunting their easy friendship, seemingly unaware of the painful tension that seems to be rapidly increasing in our world due to fracas and careless and dangerously ideologically driven religious and political leaders. This is a blog. Am I supposed to write things like this?


Back to a lighter topic, we were told that cinnamon is an aphrodisiac for women and clove is an aphrodisiac for men. Thought this might be pertinent information for some of you. Five times a day the call to prayer wafted in on the breeze alongside the smell of sweet pineapple (tis the season), cardamom, and blossoms bursting with fragrance.

Peg brought all sorts of fun gifts from the U.S. (cheerios, Rolling Stones, the New Yorker, chocolate, movies, home-made goodies, and books)-- thanks for your generosity friends--- I felt pretty darn spoiled.

Everyone hates us

You know that don't you? I cannot tell you how many conversations I have had in the last two days that have reminded me that the world currently HATES the United States of America. We are called bullies, imperialists, narcissists, and a whole host of other nasty, little criticisms. All for good reason I suppose. Today at work I was greeted by a co-worker whose first words to me were, "I hate President Bush" (pronounced Boosh). He reminded me of the latest U.S. endeavor in Africa (seeking a country in which to build a military base). The African Union was in an uproar and the continent, almost unanimously, voted against this presumptuous demand. I admit I am a little tired of being hated.

Food a la Zambia

What's in Carmen's cupboards at home you ask? Well, ask and ye shall receive friends. Here is a normal day: get up around 7 a.m. and put a pot of water on the stove to boil (a must for clean drinking water). I then meander to the tub for a soak (no shower mind you), and then eat some granola (a recent discovery at the local grocery store). And then it is off to work. As you can see from the pic, I've got loads of food that looks pretty American. I roast my own peanuts (cheap little snack), drink boxed milk and instant coffee, and I indulge in "Coke Light." It is expensive, but I love it. The picture below is standard Zambian fare (for special occasions). This was the meal I ate on Sunday after church (the elders prepared it for the special visitors). The meal included enshima (on the left), potatoes, rice, hard boiled eggs, cabbage, "soup" (or "relish"), and chicken. Delish!

The Preacher

Here I am outside of a little church in rural Kamphinsa. I preached here on Sunday and was delighted to join this small congregation (about 25 adults and an equal number of children) for worship. My Swedish neighbor (the self-proclaimed heathen Mike) and Jenny (the pentecostal Brit) joined as well, which was lots of fun. The thatched roof kept the space nice and cool while the hot sun poured through the make-shift windows. While I was preaching this little brown dog came in and laid down in the entry way to the church. He was surprisingly intent on the sermon. Funny. First time a dog has ever listened to me preach.
These women pictured here were so excited to see a camera. They danced for me and insisted on having lots of pictures taken. Aren't they beautiful?

Baby ChiChi

I learned how to hold a baby "Zambian style." My co-worker Charles and his wife just had their first little one and everyone calls him "Chi Chi." He is the sweetest little thing and I was proud to be the first white person he has ever seen. They live in a compound called "Chimwewe" where the government is busy putting in new water meters to make sure residents are paying enough for their water. Most folks living here survive off of less than $200 a month. Ridiculous.