George's Garden

As it turned out, Lingwe never turned up to take us for dinner with his family last night. Although slightly disappointing, this didn't come as a surprise - we were half expecting that he would forget (and half hoping, as we'd bought some pasta to prepare: real food!) Mind you, we did bump into him later and got some sort of an explanation... but that story will have to come later.

We were meant to meet Kenneth and Wilson (who has the only car) at 9am in order to travel out into the bush to visit 'George's garden' - George was a man who had been trained by SAPEP to go back to his community and begin a garden, which they could all contribute to, so that they might be able to sell the home-grown produce to generate an income to alleviate the poverty which they suffered (partly caused by the effects of AIDS, and partly making the effects of AIDS worse). Meeting at 9am meant of course that Wilson arrived at 10am, but we're used to that now. We did eventually get there, using the worst route I have ever traveled on - in places nearly the whole track had been eroded so that it was riddled with crevasses, causing either my head to hit the roof as we went over a bump, or all of us to slip in our seats as the wheelbase of the car was at least at a 45 degree angle to the ground.

On arriving, we were first shown around the main garden, which was predominantly planted with vegetables such as tomatoes (which had unfortunately been trampled by a rogue cow), okra, cabbage and 'rape' (I'm not sure whether we have this in England - it doesn't seem to be the same as what we call rape seed, it's more like a cross between cabbage and spinach). 

I know this is a bit blurry, but I just thought it bizarrely resembled an African version of the Beatles' Abbey Road cover

Bernadette having a wander amongst the veg

They received funding to drill a well with last year, and I managed to get my daily exercise by pumping some water through (which took quite some time with my lack of arm muscles - they have previously been named the 'twiglets').

We helped out and did a bit of watering, but I think I managed to water my shoes as vigorously as the vegetables.

Next we were shown around to the smaller garden, which contained larger plants and trees, many of which were fruit-bearing. We received a lot of information from George regarding the uses of the various parts of the plants - it seems that even common species such as rosemary or sycamore can treat a range of ailments from asthma to memory loss. I was a little dubious of this at first, but then I reasoned that a lot of our modern medication probably originated from such sources, so why not believe in their potency?

signs like this were placed by every tree to demonstrate the uses 

artfully hiding my head behind the grapefruit tree

Afterwards we sat down with the community and they showed us the range of tinctures and ointments they make out of the plants, including dried leaves which they grind to a powder and add to food. They even make their own spices - there was turmeric and hot chilli powder of a standard to rival any UK shop.

'tincture', which is taken orally for a variety of ailments

ointment to treat sore joints

the box of tricks

Wilson helped himself to a rather large spoonful of their delicious jam

We were then taken into George's hut for lunch (which unfortunately didn't utilise the spices - it was nshima and chicken). Overall, George told us that the gardens yield approximately 30 Kwacha per week - although this is only $6, and has to be shared between the eighteen people who tend the garden, it gives them enough of an income to survive in a better way than they did before. They are beginning to expand the gardens as their success grows (they have just won second prize at a local agricultural show, and are about to take their produce to the district show) although they still face huge problems: for example, they need to keep the animals out of the garden, as part of their crop has just been ruined, but chicken wire is an extortionate price.

After returning to our lodge, we were just settling in for a quiet night in when there was a knock on our door. It was Charlie, a friend of Bernadette's who we went out with the other night, and he had Bernadette on the phone and said she was expecting us (even though we'd only left her a couple of hours ago). Thinking it would be rude to decline the invitation, he gave us a lift to the restaurant where she works; who should be there but Lingwe, our disappearing dinner host, and so we sat having a chat and a drink (on the subject of why he had never turned up to take us out, he said he'd come to call for us at 1pm - goodness knows why as firstly that is definitely not dinner time, secondly it was not the time we agreed and thirdly he knows we work in the daytime). We had been looking forward to making ourselves some dinner again and so we were a little frustrated that, having been prised out of our room for no apparent reason, Charlie disappeared and Bernadette was busy working. After making polite conversation with Lingwe for a while, we made our excuses and went to tell Bernadette we were leaving. She began to smile and said, "But hasn't Charlie told you why he brought you out?" Eva and I looked at each other on confusion - we hadn't realised there had been an ulterior motive, especially as Charlie had disappeared. "Let me ring him," grinned Bernadette - as we were waiting for him to return, the purpose of our presence finally became known: he wanted to take Bernadette, Eva and me to a nicer bar up the road (one of the most frustrating things we've experienced here is that no one actually tells you what you're supposed to be doing until about the fifth time of asking). So we drove up to another lodge, which had a nice quiet bar, and sat talking for a while over a couple of drinks (Charlie's hospitality seems boundless, but we persuaded him we needed to leave after two rounds). However a certain bonus did come out of our trip: the lodge had very nice rooms, with free internet and really modern showers (!) and because they knew the landlady, we managed to book ourselves a room for when we return from Livingstone at the same price as we are paying now. Bliss!

We're back now, having made ourselves dinner, and we are being urged on by the thought that we will be in Lusaka by Saturday, where there is apparently an Indian restaurant - curry sounds like heaven right now. That's all for now, but lots of love from us (sorry, I realise that's a bit of an abrupt ending when juxtaposed with curry thoughts - please forgive me).