The Kinky Green

Funsani Village: In Brief

Posted in peace corps adventure by Joy on June 7, 2014

I’m procrastinating. It’s after 11 am on a Saturday, and I *should* be outside chopping dried banana leaves & stalks into pieces about the size of my pinky. Standing in the sun. Using a dull machete with a makeshift handle of old plastic bags that will, inevitably, give me blisters. Now maybe you see why I’m procrastinating.

Apparently updating this blog falls in the same category as deep-cleaning. That is to say: it gets done when it’s more appealing than the alternative. Yikes. I never meant for it to be so! If you bother to visit here, you definitely deserve better.

Here’s what’s going on in Funsani Village:
– The banana leaves are to serve as growing material in the mushroom practical lesson I’m teaching this afternoon. (I already have peanut shells & maize cobs soaking for the same purpose, so, really, we’re covered.)
– It’s harvest season. Everyone is in the fields most days, bringing in maize, groundnuts (peanuts), sunflower, soy beans, cotton, & tobacco.
– My youngest village niece, Francisca, is motoring around like she owns the place & calling for Auntie with a big grin on the regular. ❤
– Training for July's trek up Mt. Kilimanjaro has me hoofing it to & from town (~20 miles or so, round-trip) whenever I can. Oh, and with perma-blisters on my feet. Attractive, I know.
– A bunch of kind souls in America-land donated $800+USD to my community's new school, and we delivered 98 brand new textbooks yesterday to a bunch of smiling children.
– The machete just arrived, so I'm going to head out into the mid-day sun & teach these banana leaves who's boss.


Dzina langa ndine Joy Douglas. Ndine waku America

Posted in peace corps adventure by Joy on February 24, 2013

“Me, my name is, I am Joy. I come from America.”

Today I joined the Lungu family, my homestay hosts, at church. A Mai said it started at 10, so sure enough we left about 10 after. As we were nearing the church, a girl walking with us asked me the time. “10:42,” I responded. “What time does church begin?”

“10 hours.”

The choir was singing when we got there, and folks continued to trickle in after us. Aside from the lax time frame, the service was very much like what I’ve experienced in the US.