A Big Thanks to Tom

One of my favorite things about living here in Zambia and interacting with the children around my village is the thumbs up I get when I greet them.  At first I would just say "hello" and wave at them, then one day I got a thumbs up from a kid I passed on my bike.

From that day on I've decided that if the thumbs up was good enough for Tom Cruise as Maverick in Top Gun, well then, by all means, it's good enough for me... it's good enough for all of us.

Ah, thank you Tom.  Thank you very much.

Now I have no idea where or even when these kids learned the thumbs up greeting, but I like to think it came from Top Gun and Mr. Cruise, some time / somehow.

Although the thumbs up gesture has a very rich and varied past (ranging from Ancient Rome to World War II to contemporary times), I believe that its use here in rural Zambia now has added a new chapter to that history.  And without doing any real research or even trying to back this claim - I think a big thanks is owed to Tom Cruise for his advancement of this universal gesture.  So let me speak for all of us and say, "Thanks Tom.  Thanks."

It is worth noting that according to Wikipedia (the best website in the world) the thumbs up gesture in the Middle East has a derogatory meaning.  Tom must not be loved as much there.

My Desk / Office / Dinner Table

I recently wrote about how much writing I’ve been doing, and mentioned that some of my writing happens in the forest.  That’s true, but more of my actual work and writing happens at my desk. 

As one of the first things I purchased when I moved in it has been worth every penny, dime, or Zambian Kwacha.  My desk was made by a local carpenter, and aside from my bed, I spend more time here than anywhere. 

So here is my desk.  Let me give you a tour of it… 

My desk / office / dinner table

Sitting on my desk is a radio that I’ve adorned with characters from “The Office.”  I put Andy Bernard next to the power switch, because every time I turn the radio on I think about how Andy had to turn off his anger after he punched a hole through the wall.

I have candles, lots of candles.  The sunsets about 6:30 every night here, so how is someone without electricity suppose to see?  Candles, that’s how.

Piles of papers (to the top right).  Like any office I have papers and if I’m not careful they’ll grow and grow until they cover the full surface.  Making my desk a shelf.

I’ve got a few pictures of family and one of Michael Scott.  If you have to question the latter photo, then you don’t know anything about me.  If you don’t see your picture up there, I apologize.  I’d be happy to put it up, but you’ll need to send it this way.  So go ahead… send away.

Let me see, what else is there?  There’s a picture here, so look for yourself.  Just know that I spend a lot, an awful lot, of time toiling away there: writing reports, letters, playing Monopoly on my Kindle, and doing insightful thinking.  

Rare Ceremony A Privilege To See printed 08/01/12

This article was originally printed in the Battle Creek Enquirer on Aug. 1st.  

Every year, towards the end of June, my area holds a festival to celebrate Chief Chizela (the local chief), his subjects, the recent harvest and the area’s rich cultural heritage.

The festival is complete with singing, the pounding of drums, a lot of dancing, and local foods. Of all these, the dancing was my favorite by far.

Traditional warriors waiting for the chief.

Never would I dream of attempting to mimic one of these dances, because the resulting laughter would ring in my ears for days.

But it is still entertaining to watch even if I’m too scared to participate and my favorite of all of the dances was called the “Lion Walk.” It involved five men beating drums, 12 or 13 women singing, and another four women imitating a lion as it stalks its prey through an imaginary Zambian forest.

This whole scene conjured up images of National Geographic for me, as if I was the first outsider to ever view it.

A traditionally dressed warrior during the procession to the festival ground.

The festival itself is only one day long, but the preparation for it starts weeks and weeks earlier with the gathering of grasses and timber from the surrounding communities. These materials are then used to create a kind of parade ground and additional structures for the ceremony’s attendees. There are no collapsible stages or stands like what we would use in the United States. The natural construction gives the whole scene a very authentic and traditional feel, which is exactly what it is…the Ntongo Traditional Ceremony.

On the day of the ceremony thousands and thousands of people flock to the Chief’s palace where the ceremony is held. Additionally, local members of parliament, government officials and other chiefs from the surrounding chiefdoms are in attendance.

All the chiefs come and meet together, then when it is time to begin a rifle is fired into the air and a procession begins with the chief’s group going from his home (the palace) to the parade ground. The procession is lined on both sides of the lane with onlookers (just like a parade in the States) and as the chief comes closer the drums and the njimba (a traditional instrument that looks like a xylophone) beat louder and louder. As the chief passes, people get in line behind him and make their way into the parade ground.

Men playing the njimba and other percussion instruments.

There the chief sits front and center, with the other chiefs and distinguished guests flanking him. To his immediate sides are men dressed as traditional warriors, and in front (seated on the ground) are women dressed traditionally as well.

Once he’s been seated the program begins and there are songs, dances and speeches. The entire event is a unique experience because though there are more than 250 chiefs in Zambia, only a handful still have ceremonies of celebration like this.

The chief's structure with traditionally dressed women and men surrounding it.

It’s a tradition that’s being continued every June and I’m very lucky to have been able to at least view and participate in one of them even if I’m too scared to dance at it.