I wrote this story for all of my friends that came in with me to Zambia in Feb. 2012. Our two years just ended and many of them went home. They were all equally unique and outstandingly interesting. When leaving Peace Corps, volunteers have a "ring out ceremony," which marks the end of their service. This was read to everyone at that ceremony. Most of the jokes are for them, but maybe it's still a little amusing without knowing all the small nuances?
Deep in the heart of Africa stood a Blue Devil. Gordon Motsinger was his name and he
was in the Central Africa, drawn by his interest in birds. He was on an expedition, a bird survey
to study the rarest of birds found only in Zambia.
Before he could set out he stopped in Kabulonga and talked
to a local expert about where he may find Zambia’s most exotic species. Ba Don leaned back in the chair when
Gordy walked in and after listening to his inquisition chuckled softly to
himself, hummed a little bit, then said some seemingly mysterious things, and
out Gordon went – more confused than before. “Wait, what does that mean? What did he say?
Huh?” He wondered.
To the North-West he travelled first.
Immediately he spotted a
chickadee?
No, wait, it was a
Vermont Paradee.
Seen only in
pairs, they mate for life – a thing of beauty.
He left without contra dancing westward to Mufumbwe District.
No way he’d go there he thought, for
only Chief Blekking of the Kaondes can stand to go to a place "Where The Streets
Have No Name".
With the magic in his step of NWP he leapt the Leopold
Pinnacle. Peace Corps said he couldn’t
step there, so he flew to Ruapura.
Near the water he saw the chicken man, and asked, “Ba Stefan, is there a
bird so rare it’s seen no where else but hele?”
Stefan stepped back from the hens and felt his unkempt beard
and replied, “One? We’ve got two!
The
Wisco Lippe – an unusually kind bird – and the Idaho Jenkins – a bird with
Kopala Swag… often seen in Zampop videos
.
Both are quite beautiful and rare.
Ruapura without a Wisco Lippe and an
Idaho Jenkins is like the Congo… there will be chaos and travel restrictions.”
To Mambweland Gordon travelled next.
And there on the shores of Tang he
stumbled upon a unique but rather shirtless character with an immovable smile that
was busy patching a boat.
Gordon asked, “I say, I’ve heard
there’s a specific Pacific bird found nearby.
Do you know about it?” The boatsman, still shirtless, looked
up and brushed away the hair from his eyes and beamed a response, “Yes, it’s a
Chan-dra.
A bird of tanned plumage, but the only
way to view it is at night and you’ll have to play salsa music for it to
appear.”
Dejected, Gordon said he
only had contra music on his iPod.
Maybe he would try on another trip.
“Aw, sorry to hear that. It’s a real beauty.
G’luck, brother.” And off sailed the Smiling man in pursuit of the day’s
catch.
He meandered his way south to the greater Kasama area.
There he saw a bird quietly sifting
through some ashes – the Steen Sparrow.
That night, quietly lying beneath the stars, Gordon heard a rhythm
– musical rhythm – like entrance music… Swedish House Mafia it was. A ghost appeared: the ghost of
Drew. He said, “Let me tell you
something [Gordon]; Everybody gets one chance to do something great. Most
people never take the chance, either because they're too scared, or they don't
recognize it when it spits on their shoes.”
Just then the Ozoma Owl – found deep in the bush and often used
for traditional medicines by villagers pooped on Gordon’s shoe. In the morning, with a new pep in
his step from seeing Drew and a slightly soiled left shoe, Gordon took on the
new day and the first bird he saw was spectacular - the red feathered
Lauren. Soul-less in flight, its
mating call is a dancing stomp.
Upon leaving Kasama he danced his way toward the great North
Road where he came upon a second traveler, although this one was weary. The traveler claimed his name was UK or
England or Britain or something sounding royal and said he was having bike
troubles: his 821st flat tire.
While discussing, the cyclist mentioned that they needed to get moving fast
as light was fading. Safety and
Security were becoming a concern.
In the nearby forests a mad man lurked.
Occasionally bearded and wrapped in a do-rag, Ephraim
scoured and hid among the trees.
They needed to go before he would enact his wrath. Off cycled Britain and over the
mountains to Lundazi Gordon did dance.
Gordon was sad to find no birds in Lundazi as it’s a
treeless landscape – man’s hunger for timber had claimed nature’s beauty. While wiping a tear from his eye,
Gordon smelled the aroma of a delicious dish being made. He followed his nose and came to the
House of Hess – a delicatessen of such high quality that its equal had never
even been seen in Europe.
There at an opposing table lounged a man named Ross. Seems he had no care, worry, or
motivation in the world. Without a
word he pointed Gordon to the rest of Eastern and made the motions of a
bird.
Thinking it time to move on, Gordon set out again. This time to Eastern where he quickly
came across the squawking Fiona Finch, which looks very similar to the finches
seen throughout the British lowlands.
Next was the Winged Wilson Wren, which is endemic to the hills of
Chadiza.
After taking some photographs and field notes Gordon set
off, where he nearly immediately met a very kind woman, named Sophie. He explained his interests in birds and
although Sophie knew nothing of birds she told him he may be interested to meet
a certain local legend: Caleb. She
escorted him to Petauke where he found the Hebrew Hammerkop. Gordon, Caleb, and Sophie walk into a
bar and the bartender says, “Did you see the wall or bridge when ya walked in…?”
Thinking this sounded familiar and worried about what was to
come, Gordon left right then for the land of the Tongas - a truly magnificent
place.
Believing he had gotten away from all of his problems Gordon
let his guard down on his way to Southern and was nearly ruined for it when he
ran into the troll of the Luangwa Bridge: the Contemptible Choe – a beast known
for his cheeky and uncivil temperament.
He only had to pay 7 Kwacha to pass, because luckily he had his ARC card
with him, so he got a resident rate.
Along the edge of Victoria Falls he spied the Adamson Crane,
a bird of such grace and elegance that Gordon nearly contraed over the fall’s
edge. And perhaps he would have if
it hadn’t been for a nearby frolicking Zip named Alan Lamp.
He said, “You’re a birder?”
“I am,” replied Gordon.
“Don’t look for the birds on your own, look for the bird
master.” He then enigmatically
pointed towards Central Province.
Off Gordon pranced.
At the Kapiri turnoff he was feeling slightly hungry, so he
stopped to buy a Shwarma at the Continental. In front of him was a Texan with tattoos covering much of
his body. Of particular note was a
Cap’n Crunch inking.
Along the way he passed a sun-kissed California bird of prey
– the Boyd’s Falcon, but he knew he was close when he encountered the Wizened
Russ Owl. An usually distinguished
owl with the pension for eating rabbits, the Russ Owl seemed to not even notice
Gordon.
Gordon looked tiredly at the Russ and asked, “Am I close?
Please, tell me I’m close.”
“Just ahead, around the trail’s bend,” Russ hooted.
He crept up and there, ten meters to the left, was Pete Wrublewski,
the most famous birder in the world – someone all should look up to. So at peace with nature it was as if he
were hugging it. Gordon whispered,
“Pete Wrublewski, I presume?”
“Can I help you? Ikaleni mukwai.
But… please don’t touch me.” was the nearly inaudible reply.
Gordon couldn’t sit.
This was his hero. He could
barely stop dancing due to his excitement.
Finally he managed to ask, “What bird are you here to study?”
“I’m not studying birds today. I’m here to see THE LORAX. Shh…. Here he comes.”
There, not there but just there, very near, into the
clearing, on the forest’s edge stepped Henry – THE LORAX.
A sight to behold.
A smile to envy – from ear to ear – and
the finesse of a leopard on the prowl.
He was clearly one with the trees.
But, as quickly as THE LORAX appeared, it vanished.
Gordon cried out, “That was amazing. A LORAX!”
And Pete said, “In my years here, during my time, I’ve seen
a lot of birds, but only the occasional LORAX. It’s sad though, because things they are a-changing. When I first began we had so many
birds, now some are gone and others are even extinct. The Screaching Savage – truly an
annoyance. The Craig Andrews-Jones,
which I loved dearly, but it too left too soon. The Albertson from Mkushi was a small, chatty little
bird. The Cricklair Hawk – local
lore says it migrated to lands with more zeros. The Alf Owl: small, but packed a full punch of energy. The SB was a nonchalant bird ranging between
Lundazi and California, and there was even the Patricia Parrot. She was as a bird should be: graceful, good
natured, and wise. And now,
they’re gone. More will be
following, I’m sure.”
Gordon listened and looked on before thoughtfully replying,
“About times like these 2 Pac once said, pour one out for my homies.” He reached down, poured some Jolly Jus
for he and Pete and they soaked the red soil with the sugary elixir… for their homies.
For a few moments they sat there quietly – contemplating -
when Gordon broke the silence by saying, “Unfortunately I need to be
going. I don’t have enough
cultural days to linger for much longer.
Thank you though. Thank you
so much. “ He tried to give Pete a
hug but that didn’t work... not that it was rejected, but rather it just wasn’t
reciprocated. Seems he was serious
about not wanting to be touched. So instead, he did a small contra dance to show his thanks
and off he went.
On his flight home, as he was thinking about the distances
he had covered and all he had seen, the neighbor next to him asked, “How was
your trip?”
Gordon said, “It was more of an experience, a once in a
lifetime experience. It all went
by so fast, but it changed me forever.
It was great.”
“Wonderf!” Ba
Anthony said, smiling. “Truly
wonderf.”
