After only one night back in the village I made
my way back to Solwezi to meet up with Ellen. I have successfully survived a
week alone in Zambia, even though I was not in the village the entire time I am
still counting it. I received a prearranged ride from Brain, a Canadian working
for a small company that helps villagers rent to own hammer mills to process
maize. I almost felt spoiled riding in a
minivan, in the front seat, with a seat belt on, and with control over the
stereo. It seems almost surreal that I own one of the motorized vehicles in the
States and I can drive it whenever and wherever I please.
We decide to make a detour to the Mutunda Falls
just outside of Solwezi to get a castle (the better of the crappy beers in
Zambia). It is advertised as a resort and for Zambia standards it is high class
and by high class I mean they have flush toilets although they are lacking
toilet paper and toilet seats it is still a step up from a hole in the ground.
I think my standards are waning. The falls were beautiful, peaceful, and
refreshing. I did not realize how much I love the calming roar of running water
until it has been absent from my life for several weeks. This was the first body of water that I have
seen since being in Africa. Although weary of crocodiles I could not resist the
urge to kick off my shoes and let my feet dangle in the water.
Later Ellen and Justin decide that it is time
that I experience the Titanic, a night club in Solwezi. Prior to entering the club Ellen gives me a
lesson in what I like to call defensive dancing. It pretty much consists of
putting your arms up with your elbows sticking out to beat away unwanted dance
partners, which in the Titanic is everyone. Being the only white girls in the
club we did draw a lot of attention, but I was able to implement Ellen’s dance
strategy with enormous success. The Titanic is setup similar to a dance studio
with mirrors all around the perimeter club. I felt rather uncomfortable seeing
my reflection dancing, but I appeared to be the only one taking issue with it.
Looking around the club Zambians everywhere were watching themselves dance in
the mirrors. I don’t mean like the occasional glance in the mirror, I mean they
are standing dead in front of the mirror, making eye contact with themselves,
and dancing. I think I may have seen a few wink and smile at themselves.
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