Catherine's African Adventure: Luggage Crusade...

September 19, 2006

11:31 AM Lusaka,

Zambia

Simons’ House

Good morning all,

I have had a very calm and relaxing morning thus far. The family for the most part is out and about doing their thing. Uncle Scott is at work at USAID. Aunt Gacheke is playing bridge at the Japanese ambassador’s house. Sentai is at school. Winjiru is downstairs on the deck with her tutor. Dorcus flew back to Nairobi yesterday. Aunt Gacheke is recovering from several months of hyperactive thyroid issues. Dorcus was the “family representative” (Uncle Scott informed me) sent to make sure that Aunt Gacheke really was on the road to recovery. That accounts for the family. Although most everyone is out and about the house is far from empty. I have yet to see it empty actually. Carol, the cook/masseuse and Alice, the housekeeper, are almost always here. As well there is a gardener who I have yet to meet. Simon is supposed to be cleaning the pool and putting up mosquito netting on the porch although I have not seen him around. Everything and everyone moves at their own pace, to the beat of their own drum.

Yesterday, Monday, was quite a busy day for me. We woke up quite early and headed to the airport to drop off Aunt Dorcus and pick up my missing bag. I had called at least 3 times each day since my arrival. I filled out a missing baggage form upon my arrival and was given a sheet with about 5 phone numbers which I was instructed to call the next day. Not far away, a man started cussing rather violently when he realized his bag was missing. I smiled because for once I was in no hurry to get this bag back. The suitcase that had come through had my clothes and everything I needed immediately. However, after several unanswered calls to the airport and several more promises for a return phone call I realized why the man had been so flustered. Occasionally bags never came and frequently they were long in coming. I continued my calls and soon the receptionists knew who I was without me having to identify myself. Much to my surprise, South African Airways did call with the wonderful news that my bag had arrived at the airport. Aunt Gacheke and Aunt Dorcus were in line waiting to pay the departure tax. I went off in search of my bag. At the lost luggage office I was redirected upstairs to the British Airways office. Upon my trek up the stairs I found the office to be closed. I wished Aunt Dorcus a safe trip home with a promise that I would come and visit Kenya. Aunt Gacheke and I then went to the information booth where we were told that the B.A. office was supposed to open at 8 frequently didn’t open until 11. It being 10 we decided to have some food in the restaurant and wait for office to open. Upon finishing our brunch, we found the office had still not opened. We went back to the lost luggage office and told them of our predicament. They directed us to the South African Airways office which was past the police office. After conferring with several people we determined that the office was indeed through a single unmarked door. Through the door sunshine and hot air burned our retinas and throats. We were directed to another unmarked door and down a long sketchy corridor. I was coming to terms in my mind with possibly never seeing my bag again when a small sign marked South African Airways appeared. We entered a small office with 3 men. Two were filling out forms and one was busy talking on the phone assuring the caller that he would indeed find his/her bag. The caller was getting the same line I had been given about 6 times. He kindly asked us to wait for 2 minutes as he went and located the caller’s bag. After making it this far on the goose chase, 2 minutes was nothing. Aunt Gacheke and I were having a lively conversation and the time passed quickly. the man had still not returned and I commented on how the two minutes had turned into 10. She laughed and said we should have asked whether it would be 2 American minutes or 2 African minutes. Eventually the man returned and we followed him back through the long corridor, the blinding sunshine, past the police office and back through the entrance to the airport. I cleared security and followed the man into a backroom with 3 enormous dumpster-like baggage bins. I followed him to a man behind the customs desk who gave him a key to the bins. After unlocking the two large padlocks the doors swung open and I was overjoyed to see my bag sitting their safe and sound. We went back to customs where the man behind the desk inspected my passport in a show of security and then sent me on my way.

In addition to my airport adventure, Aunt Gacheke and I also made a trip to Uncle Scott’s office, the grocery store, Blockbusters (not part of the Blockbuster chain but nonetheless a video store), Winjiru’s school, and Sentai’s friend’s house. I took and nap. Uncle Scott and I went to the Marine house to play some weekly volleyball. The U.S. Embassy in Lusaka is guarded by US Marines. They live in a compound with an outdoor volleyball/racquetball/basketball court. Every week a fairly large group of ex-patriots (10-20) gather to play some volleyball. Last night the countries represented were Sweden, Norway, US, the Philippines, and several others that I could not identify. There were two fantastically tall players who would spike the ball faster than my brain could process what was happening. I managed to get some pictures and I think I’ll be back next Monday for more volleyball.

Later on today Aunt Gacheke and I are going to go to the weekly farmer’s market. I have little worry about becoming bored. There are a million and a half things to do. This evening I am fairly certain we will go for a 6 km walk as we have been doing every day. The weather is consistently beautiful. Highs of 86 F/30 C and lows of 55 F/12 C daily. The evenings are my favourite part of the day. Once the sun begins to set I am consistently amazed by the impossibly perfect evenings which go on until the wee hours of the morning.