Vomizzlers

At least once, but hopefully a few times, each month I get a package from home.  Sometimes they're from family and sometimes they're from friends, but nearly every package I get has candy in it.  I can find Twix, Snickers, and even the occasional Crunch bar in the larger Zambian cities, but specialty items like Nerds, bubble gum, or Twizzlers (the focus of this blog post) have to come from the United States.

A little while back I picked up one of these packages.  It was a great package.  Lots of different kinds of candy, a personal note from the sender, and some other odds and ends.  It was great knowing people back home hadn't forgotten about me - but what made it especially great was the family size package of Twizzlers that were included.

I opened the package and ate a few.  I then ate a few more.  Then a few more, and before I knew it half of the package was gone.  I had eaten half of a family size portion, otherwise known as what two normal people would eat.  And I had done this in one sitting.

Around the same time I discovered this I realized that it was time to make dinner.  I'm lazy though and opted for more Twizzlers.  Plus, I wanted to challenge myself to see if I could eat the rest of the package.  It's the small challenges that make life so worthwhile, right?

I can't say no to these little twisted delights.

Wrong.  I finished that package.  In fact, it wasn't even that difficult.  Unfortunately, the human body is not equipped for so much strawberry flavored goodness and just a few minutes after finishing the package a felt a twinge in my stomach.  I knew what this meant.  I raced outside to my trash pit and I vomited.  Out came a family size helping of Red 40 colored, partly chewed Twizzlers.  It was disgusting.  I felt not only physically sick but also disappointed in myself that I couldn't hold them down.  I'd wasted a completely good American candy in such a pointless way.

When asked if people should continue sending me Twizzlers after this story I respond with, "Yes, but please send smaller packages."  I secretly believe that another family size package will be irresistible to me... I just can't say no to such a great candy.

An Update on Mr. Kook

Here's an update on Mr. Kook, the chicken that I was given some months ago.  Well, he has been eaten.  For a while Mr. Kook enjoyed a fantastic life.  He was the only rooster in the village and had all the hens to himself.  However, that couldn't last forever.  Soon some other roosters grew as big, if not bigger, than Mr. Kook and he was continually having to defend his ladies.  He did this for some time, but when he could no longer hold his ground I knew it was time - his reign was over.

I shared him with a family that I live near, and one night we ate him.  He wasn't particularly tasty, but it was meat (something I rarely am able to find around the village), so I enjoyed.

This is my portion of Mr. Kook.

But, Mr. Kook's legacy lives on.  He fathered many chicks with many hens in the village and his blood lines are continuing on.  I often see small chicks with his same odd feather coloration cruising around the village.

And to say thank you for sharing him with my neighbors, they in turn gave me a hen.  I've named her Mrs. Kook and it's just too bad her and Mr. Kook will never meet.  Even though he's no longer strutting around the village his babies are and I now have a hen that will produce chicks because of him and his sacrifice to feed me and some locals.  Thanks, Mr. Kook!

The Villa at the Vill

Believe it or not, my hut here in Zambia, which is really more of a house, is a fairly comfortable pad for a bachelor like myself.

It is about 290 square feet — larger than the apartment I rented immediately after college — and made from compressed, kiln-fired bricks. The roof is composed of grass thatch and does a really good job keeping the rain away, while the floor is hand-mixed concrete. All things considered it’s home for me, and will be for the remainder of my Peace Corps service.

With an assortment of trees, my hut will someday become a forested getaway.  For now, it's home and it's not too bad.

I’ve named it “The Villa” because once in a while I have a lot of spare time to name inanimate objects, like a hut. But also because I get a laugh out of imagining renting this place to someone in a travel magazine by describing it as “The Villa at the Vill” — like it’s a trendy, remote vacation spot.

The ensuing description would go something like this — The Villa comes complete with tropical fruit trees (mangoes and guavas), an enclosed pit latrine for your private use and a chest-high bathing shelter where the user can take in the surrounding views. The African sunsets are a must from this vantage point.

The backside of my hut.

Additional features worth mentioning are the solar panel — complete with car battery to charge all your electrical needs; a mosquito net because avoiding malaria on vacation is a must for every world traveler; a hammock where passing the day away in comfort is as easy as sitting down; a garden where the freshest, most delectable vegetables are grown year round; and lastly, the locals (your neighbors) will treat you nicer than you have ever been treated before.

From arrival to departure you will be greeted every morning, afternoon and evening with ear-to-ear smiles. You won’t want to leave. This is the Africa of your dreams.

At least that’s how I imagine my rental description going, and truthfully it is pretty accurate (except for not mentioning the constant issues I face with mice and termites).

The Villa seen from under the mango trees.

The villagers near me are as nice as you’ll find anywhere in the world (they really do boast ear-to-ear smiles from morning to night) and the presence of the solar panel on my roof, which means power all day and night, is well worth the $260 I paid for it.

I’ve tried my best to make it all my own by adding HGTV-inspired touches: painting the outside a flashy hue of orange, the inside white (to reflect candle light at night better), planting a few trees, having a hammock sent from home, building a grill for the occasional barbeque and hanging up pictures of friends, family, and home.

I’m even hoping to hang at least one strand of Christmas lights from the roof in December, powered by my solar panel, of course.

If anyone is ever in the neighborhood and needs a place to stay, don’t look any further than “The Villa at the Vill.” It has to be one of Mufumbwe District’s most exclusive hideaways. It will be everything I’ve described and more. I guarantee it.