TinTin's Adventures in Zambia

TinTin and Snowy are here for their Zambian adventure!  This poster was created by the fine folks at InHouse Design Studio. Hey...that's me!  The kids are waiting for the full book but for now putting the poster together was the project of the week as they were finishing up their final school days. What a push that was to get us all thru the week of parties, activities, assemblies, awards ceremonies, graduations and a life of total (but temporary) chaos.

To give you some context for this project:  Nyami-Nyami is the god of the mighty Zambezi River that watches over Lake Kariba and controls life in and on the river.  The Lake was formed in 1956 when a huge dam was built on the river which separates Zambia and Zimbabwe. Wikipedia of describes baTonga legend of Nyami-Nyami, and this legend certainly gives us a head start to writing a full story.  The Tonga people were 'displaced' (this is the polite term) by the dam construction and subsequent flooding but apparently had confidence that Nyami-Nyami would never allow completion of the dam.

The Knife Edge Bridge spans the river directly across from the Zambezi River's Victoria Falls. It was built  over the 'boiling pot' at gorge's Eastern Cataract.  During the rainy season the mist from the falls rains upwards ferociously and even a quick dash through the cloud will leave you soaked through in a matter of seconds.  (just have a look at TJs passport which he had on him in an inside rainjacket pocket wrapped in double zip-loc bags if you need proof...and our digital camera and cell phone graveyard).

We're certain that the full adventure will reveal itself over the course of our upcoming 35-hour journey. There's nothing like sitting in a coach airplane seat for that long with two children to get your creative juices flowing.  Blistering barnacles!

His Excellency

Dr Kaunda with the girls.  Check out little Nellie.

There are any number of strange situations we have found ourselves in recently.  I mention this to people from time to time, reminding them that this blog really only tells half the story.   There are topics that are off limits (work and colleagues which naturally constitutes a large part of our life), pictures I don’t share, names or landmark events that pass un-blogged.  But yesterday, we had a great opportunity that stumbled our way that I’m happy to share.  We were all scrubbed and polished and dressed for court (can’t talk about that here) and a random but funny work meeting that the kids were going to tag along to (can’t talk about that either).  Court was adjourned for another 2 weeks and the meeting was postponed til Friday.  So when our friend/former neighbor/fellow parent called as asked if the kids could come by after school to meet someone I was happily able to say “Of course!”

10 minutes to get ready.

It wasn’t exactly clear what sort of meeting we were going to get ready for, but the kids and I dashed home from school, they got changed into “fancy dress” and their handsome shirts and we ran over to our friends’ house.  The few times we need the kids to dress up always reveals our wardrobe shortcomings. Particularly at this time of year when it’s cold enough to wear trousers and closed-toed shoes (and when we’re packing for our US holiday where we’ll be no doubt buying all new shoes, socks etc.).  When you pull these things out just 3 times a year it’s very likely that the boys will have outgrown EVERYTHING they try to put on.  O luckily just scored some hip black trousers, a crisp white Herve-esque* and nice dress shoes b/c he needed them for his school play.  He also has just grown into two suit jackets that we picked up from a friend last year.

(*Herve Renard is Zambia’s very French football coach and is famous for his ‘lucky shirt, his perfect hair and the fact that even at a nail-biter of a mid-day match in Equatorial Guinea’s summer tournament he never broke a sweat.)

We don’t have belts, ties or any accessories and the trousers....let’s just say they are better suited for much shorter children. The only jackets that fit Finn are a leather motorcycle jacket (don’t ask why just know it’s AWESOME) and a polyester tuxedo jacket from the dress up box.  no. no. no.  He has one nice clean pair of chuck taylors but...wait...no we only have ONE chuck taylor and last I checked the boy has TWO feet. So he wore the grungy sneakers.

Hanging out at KKs house 

BUT they both have million dollar smiles and promised to be on their best behavior. There is nothing like a cheerful face on well-mannered child to make you blind to to the high-waters, missing buttons and dirty laces.

Dr. Steven Moyo, Dr. Kenneth Kaunda, and our awesome neighbor, Solomon Ossiya

How this meeting came to be.

Our friend had a mentor/benefactor growing up who happened to work as the private secretary to the first president of Zambia, Dr. Kenneth Kaunda.  Dr. Kaunda held office from the time of Zambian Independence in 1964 until 1993.  He is a champion of civil rights and after the death of one of his sons is an active campaigner in Zambian’s fight against HIV/AIDS.  He’s now 88 and remains an active figure in politics and advocacy and is of course a local and international celebrity.  Zambian’s affectionately refer to him as “KK” but we reminded the kids that in person, he is to be called “Your Excellency,”   (I must say that this term does not roll off the tongue of an American mom, nor does “Your Worship” which is what I’m supposed to call our magistrate -- but after 4 years, I feel more comfortable calling her Mum.)

Our friend has been in Zambia for these past years with his two girls while their mom stayed back in Uganda for her VIP (very important position). Mom is now moving to Ghana for a new job and now she wants the girls with her.  So the girls are packing up and leaving dear old dad.  But not before he gets them an audience with the legendary first president.  Along with some other friends from school, we joined in for this meeting and they all got to spend an hour with His Excellency, Dr. Kenneth Kaunda at his Lusaka residence.  What a treat.

The meeting.

The kids got to goof around in the board room, twirl in the big man’s chair and holler at eachother while they ‘played’ tough guy presidents. Little Nellie:  YOU!  (giggle giggle) Get me coffee! (big laugh) YOU!  Make my bed! (more giggles)  The antics did not stop for the appearance of the president but they all remained on their best behavior and chatted about favorite foods, favorite colours, what it was like to be president--the FIRST president of his country, what instruments he played.  If J’s brothers had been able to come we’re certain the conversation would have drifted towards robots, aliens and KK’s ‘position’ on cheese.  The kids sang the national anthem and then we dashed out side to take photos in the courtyard.  Dr. Kaunda danced and sang for the kids and left us all laughing as he ran (literally) off to tea.

And that was that. (oh, wait, not so fast:  Beth reminds me they also learned the secret handshake....)

The kids all wrote their names on a sheet of paper so that they could each get an autograph.  They all wrote their full names, not a small fete for these guys with names and nicknames and christian names and traditional/tribal names.  

Oliver!

Wow!  Who knew a bunch of 2nd to 5th graders could pull off such a performance!  The annual school drama production of Oliver Twist went off without a hitch last night.  The Dickens novel was adapted for the younger set to be an hour-long musical.  The score was also adapted a bit more so that most of singing was the whole chorus with only a few (if any?) solos. O spent 2 months with a voice coach anyway, just in case and also to help with the simple problem of getting yourself HEARD while you are on stage.

The full novel has a storyline which is incredibly complicated and has a massive number of characters -- it's a great read but would be massively long play.  The school was able to bring in our new drama and performing arts teacher to help out.  Although he doesn't officially start until NEXT school year, it was nice to have a preview of some of the changes in store in terms of what the school is hoping to offer these rising stars.  Great job, kids!

Pictured here is O as Oliver with Jack Dawkins, aka, the Artful Dodger.

Aw, Nuts!

Dailass follows Cilla and the dogs to go see the macadamia nut trees for herself.

Now that you've met Dailass, who placed 1st for the Zambia National Barista Competition and 3rd in the Africa competition and is headed to the World Barista championship this week, let's see what she's up to.  Because her 'signature' drink for the competition is 'Proudly Zambia' -- an iced espresso made from Marika's/Munali Arabica beans served with macadamia nut milk and a touch of honey from Western Province, she decided she'd better find out where these nuts came from.  "They don't come from the ground?!" was her first reaction when she learned about these nuts.  Zambians know plenty about ground nuts, but tree nuts? not so much.

We drove an hour or so out Great North Road to Chisamba and over to the family farm of Priscilla D'Elbee, to meet with the proprietor (Priscilla) of Cilla's Nuts and learn about how this delicious nut makes it way to our shops.  Cilla owns a 6 hectare Macadamia nut plantation with around 3,000 trees. She imported them beginning in 1996 from Australia and runs a completely organic, self sufficient farm with the help of 7 other families.  

The farmhouse where she lives and bases her business is one her grandfather built in 1907.  The land has been passed down and sold off over the years but she has held onto this parcel and is growing a thriving and exclusive plantation.

The farm grows three varieties, all on hearty and reliable Beaumont root stock.  The reason for the variety is that each have slightly different characteristics, the most important of which is that they are ready for harvest at three different times of the year.  The farm is always busy and the nuts they sell are always the freshest and highest quality.  Because their 10 ton yield is relatively small, the operation is quite literally "hands on" and there is very little in the harvest and processing that is mechanised. 

The trees can grow to a height of 12 meters but to keep things simple, they are pruned in the shape of a cone/christmas tree which means they get the best light and the nuts are easy to harvest.  Harvesting is hand-work and done with ladders.  The trees produce sprays of tiny flowers -- each flower has the potential to grow into a nut.  

A spray of mature nuts looks a bit like a cluster of grapes -- really hard, big, grapes.  When they are ripe and ready to harvest they outer husk starts to split and either they are picked off the tree or they fall to the ground and are collected.

Wheelbarrows of nuts are collected in the 'Factory' and run through this machine which agitates them and the husk falls away leaving the nut in it's hard hard shell. The husk is used for mulch and nothing in the farm goes to waste.  

The remaining shell is incredibly strong and can only be cracked after the nuts are dried.  Cilla has worked on a machine which was pieced together from an old pool pump and a bouncy castle blower that keeps the nuts at about 60 degrees C for 3 days.  This dries the shell out just enough to where they can be run through a nut cracker.  The nuts are shelled either in this machine or finished by hand.  They are dried further in another Cilla-made device and are then packed or go to the kitchen.  

 

The farm is unique in that they are one of the few that not only works 'by hand' but that does everything from planting of the seedlings to the preparing of the finished products and packing them for sale.  They mainly produce nuts but they also make speciality biscotti, chocolate sweets and macadamia nut oil.

This week, Cilla's nuts will travel to Vienna as Dailass prepares to wow the judges.  Best of luck, Dailass!  Watch her performance as competitor #40

Define "Breathtaking"

We had a long talk with the kids about why we were electing to spend a friday morning packing and preparing for a weekend adventure.  "Why again are we taking a different road?"  In terms of distance, the drive was shorter, but in time the drive was expected to take at least double.  Why subject ourselves to 6+ hours in the car when 2.5 was an actual option?  We came up with a whole list of reasons and repeated this list just as we were leaving the last stretch of paved road til Sunday afternoon.  About the time we finished the list, our lead car stopped and our fearless drivers hopped out, cursing and inspecting the BRAD NEW shocks.  More on that in a second.  First, the list:

1) we've wanted to do this drive for ages
2) we had TWO other families who were also wanting to do this trip this weekend
3) we have cabin fever like nobody's business
4) it's not too hot
5) there no threat of rain
6) no one said "DON'T GO!"

About #6.  We did have one puzzling conversation immediately after the first car of our-two-car-three-family-convoy turned around. It turns out the new shocks were fine, it was the springs that were shot and without them the car was feeling every bump and the noises were getting worse to the point of being metal-on-metal and were were only 30 minutes into the trip, if that.  They simply coundn't carry on.



The conversation  between TJ and RM (aka Roadside Man).  RM stopped to watch us re-pack as we shifted gear to accommodate our new mom&baby passengers and a mess of gear to accommodate the impending car switch-a-roo in Lusaka. RM also stuck around to say a few stern words to the few little boys who also stayed to watch ("they like to 'pick'" he says):

TJ:  From here the road to Chirundu is passable?
RM:  Yes.  It is impassable.
TJ (to himself): Why did I ask that question that way.
RM (repeating himself): Yes, It is impsssable.
TJ:  I'm sorry. Do you mean to say the road to Chirundu is passable?
RM: Yes.
O:  Remind us why we are doing this drive again?
TJ (less confidently): Because it is said to be "breathtaking and spectacular."
O:  Dadddy? Define breathtaking.

For whatever reason we ignored the only piece of advice anyone who drives this route is given: "Whatever you do, don't go with just one car!" And we decide: "What the heck, let's go with just one car!"  (spoiler alert and grandparent-reassurance side-note:  the story has a happy ending)

Super mom, Anna, lets the boys play with wee-one in the car while she gets the gear battened down.

Long story short, the road was rough, narrow, overgrown, steep, rocky, sandy, washed out, nearly invisible for stretches.  BUT we were really glad to have done it.  The car was so awesome and our drivers were awesome, our passengers were....mostly awesome.  FPFJ was nervous, or more likely high on peanut M&Ms b/c he didn't stop talking loudly or moving the entire drive.  This meant the sleepy baby didn't get to sleep. At all. At one point, her momma needed to drive to help get over some full-on car-sickness, I was "in charge" of Madelise.  She wasn't keen on this idea and decided to take a bite outta my arm--rabid crocodile-style!  We really can't blame her for needing to assert that SHE was in charge!  O admitted once we were back on level ground that he really thought we would roll the car and plummet our way down the escarpment instead of slowly maneuvering its steep rocky switchbacks.  There was a point where 4/6 passengers thought surely we had taken a wrong turn and were actually driving on foot-path.  (Maybe Madelise thought so too but I think she was with TJ on this one.)

Where are we?  Is this a road?  Let's check with the new phone....sure enough WE ARE HERE.
but wait?! The road is over THERE.  This new ap and hardware got a HUGE thumbs up despite the misplaced marker.

The view of the Lower Zambezi River Valley with the Zimbabwe Hills in the distance.  This was the beginning of insane switchbacks and drop-offs where O thought we might just tumble our way down to camp.

It was a great adventure and gave O at least a working definition of "breathtaking."  We decided to add the word "harrowing" to the rumored "breathtaking and spectacular" description of the Escarpment Route.  Would we do it again?  Yes.  We would not do it again alone and we'd pack shovels, and a saw/axe and more cheerios.  Should you do it?  Yes!  But, whatever you do, don't go with just one car!

 A few more snaps:

Anna, Madelise and O take a break from joys of the Vomit Commet.

Cotton Stainers (?) -- I noticed them after I marched in the field but before I picked some bolls to bring back to the car.

We made it! Yeah!

Kate's new 'linkedin' photo?

A few hours and many 'cheese curls' later the last cast was the best.  Dan landed the only tiger fish of the day.  They are delicious but this one went back in the river instead of into the pan. 

We ditched the fishing for a bit and went to check out the hippos, elephants and crocs.  It's easy to forget they are there.

STRIKE! and strike out.  Darn it!

Escarpment

So....we're headed out tomorrow morning for a camping and road trip that's been on the list of things to do for 3 years.  But it just occurred to us today that we don't actually know the route or have a map beyond "head out leopards hill road."  The one above shows our starting point (Lusaka) and ending point (Kiambi) but we're going the infamous "escarpment route." you know, the one NOT on the maps.  All we know is that the path was last maintained in 2008 (4 rainy seasons ago), that you only do it as a convoy and with high clearance 4x4.  There are any number of reasons for going this way and for going now-- the most compelling of which is that every description of this particular itinerary uses the words "breathtaking" and "spectacular."

WISH US LUCK!  (and send us a map if you have one?!)

Practice makes perfect?

While O was off at the national science fair with his "Does Practice Make Perfect" experiment (Part I was a week long spelling 'practice/no practice' test and Part II was a month long 'practice/no practice' swimming and running test) and FPF was at a sleepover, we were home practising our cocktail shaking.  So distracted were we with the Earl Grey Martinis at the Winters that we very maturely neglected to fix any dinner, instead having finger-food fondue while watching the Season 5 premier of Mad Men. Which leads me to this very open party invite:

.....and this recycled bit of inspiration for your fancy-dress from our visit to 1965:

Not actually from 1965, but from Uttara and Inder's party in 2009.
 If only photoshop would launch a line of cosmetics and hair products. 

If you a total party pooper and unwilling to dress up, print out a life-size character mask from the official AMC Mad Men party guide.  Meanwhile, our party shopping list is looking like this: brandy, gin, whiskey, coffee liquor, vermouth, vodka, creme de cacao, and....chips and dip.

Oink

It's not everyday I get to design an ad campaign for a Dodgeball Tournament+Pig Roast fundraiser at a Mexican restaurant in Zambia to help raise money to send the Blue Moon's amazing baristas (Dialass and Miriam) to Vienna.  On the fun project scale it equals the posters O and I did for the Italian dinner they put on at the (other) Mexican restaurant at  the Swedish School of Lusaka to send them to Ethipia for the All-Africa barista championship competition (in which Dialass placed 3rd).

Get out your Atlases, folks! I'm dizzy just thinking about it.

(Keep an eye out for the posters....we need to settle a few details before going to press.)
 

Tri as we might

FPFJ and Chris cheering Owen on during his swim.

little bikes, little legs, great results

April marks the beginning of Term 3 at school, the beginning of cold, blustery, dusty weather and....TRIATHLON SEASON!  A handful of families at school started training in January for O's "Does Practice Make Perfect?" Science Fair experiment (for which he's competing in the ISAZ science fair this year) which measured training/practice results for running, swimming and spelling.  Since we were all in a good routine with exercising (and TJ's schedule was cleared up, ahem, more on that later) we all carried on with the training with the idea competing in the annual triathlon event.  We participated last year but decided to up the ante and add some distance and a few more races.  TJ and I both did the sprint distance (the longest they offer), O did the intermediate distance, and FPFJ did the 'fun' distance. We joined forces for a sprint relay with FPFJ as coach on wet socks and bike helmet duty.

I'm so proud of everyone who rallied (some 300 participants this year!), especially our friends who swim very well but still insist that they are "not swimmers."  After assembling a rag-tag jumble of unwieldy and half-working bicycles and swapping triathlon-suitable sports apparel we made our way through a few months of trail riding, jogging (me), running, and swimming at the Olympic pool, triathlon day came at last!

Team Jennings with Coach PFPJ won the family category for the sprint distance, clocking in at a respectable 57 minutes. (woo-hoo!) The victory was credited to O, who ran the 4km in under 20 min.  He finished strong, proudly passing people in the last 100 meters.  Good thing he finished so quickly, b/c he had to rush off to do his individual race!  He improved his individual time over last year despite that the had just run for Team J and despite that his chain came off his thousand-pound bike in the middle of the race!  PFPJ had a great 'first' race experience and swam 50m breastroke and then surprised us all with 50m of backstroke alongside his friends little Isaac (the youngest finisher!) and big Isaac (who grew up here but is moving to NYC next week, boo hoo).  He finished first in the Under 8 group (we won't reveal how many were in the U8 group...)

TJ on the Rockhopper - overdue for a new bike and WAY overdue for new tubes on this one!

TJ and I were both happy to have participated, met our personal goals, etc.  He's ready to sign up for another race and hopes that for the next one he'll actually be able to feel his legs for the run.... don't ask, let's just say a big Thank You to muscle memory.  Just yesterday we tried to go for a ride in Chamba Valley but were put off in the first km by a double puncture.  TJ pulled out a 2cm shard of metal (not a "piece", an evil-looking pointy shard) that was in there from a pucture last week.  The bike tube with 5 patches somehow served him through 24km on race day. (There still aren't any replacement tubes, so we added 2 new patches yesterday!)

The race is a fun one, with Zambia-only challenges: a stretch of road that is actually 90% potholes and 10% tarmac), a stretch on a single-track path alongside a busy street, silty sand on tight corners and the simple fact that we share the entire race route with people on their every-day way to work and home with their bikes loaded down with gigantic bags of charcoal, 2m long stacks of wood on their heads, babies on their backs, etc.  The bike route is the best and requires more mental energy than physical energy --you'll end up in market stall, a field of 2m tall grasses or upside down under a truck if your attention wanders! Last year in trying to drive the bike route I pulled the front bumper off the landcruiser after I missed a turn.

O can still beat us both in the 4k distance, by the way....his face gets a tiny bit red but otherwise this distance is a cake-walk for him.  Way to go, people!

It Ain't Easy Being Green

For over 3 years I have hated this patio.  It COULD be a great space.  Instead it is awful.  A giant pukey reminder that this is not our house and that if I had an extra few thousand dollars lying around I would put it into the house that we actually own, not this house that we rent.  But it is our home (cue the violins) and this charming man I call my husband finally had the brilliant idea not to replace the hidousness at our own expense, but to temporarily remove it.  And so, while I was out the other day.....

 But that's not all.  The patio roof made the whole cave-like interior dark and green as well.

Not any more! Lookie! LIGHT!

But that's not all, no.  Because now that we can actually SEE our entry and sitting room we have some incentive to tidy it up a bit.  And with this newly awesome patio, we have another excuse for dinners al fresco.  It also almost eliminates the need to knock out the dining room wall to put big doors and a patio off that room -- which is more of a giant hallway than an actual DINING room. As if we need ANOTHER place to eat at 23b!  We truly are all just trying to make up for the lack of restaurants in Lusaka. I wish I was kidding about this.

the patio's inaugural supper...can you tell my tripod broke?

For the time being we'll leave our patio roof open b/c the temperature is dropping quickly and the bright sunlight (and heat) streaming in is most welcome.  (think fleece jackets, down vests and our ski hats) Once September rolls around we'll take a little trip out to Kafue (home of Danger Boy, a new friend of Snort's) to pick up a dozen reed mats to secure up there to give us some nice shade while still letting in some filtered and happily NOT-GREEN light.  The rainy season is the big question mark but it's a long way off.  It hasn't rained for 3 weeks and most likely we won't see a drop of the wet stuff until November. Did you hear that in Seattle?  NO RAIN UNTIL NOVEMBER.  I still can't wrap my soggy head around this fact.

always room for guests at 23b....

Tujilijili

my little phone and some sample sachets -- fits nicely in your pocket. easy to conceal and carry around.  They are especially popular with bus and taxi drivers.....  I picked these up during my walk -- from the rubbish not from a vendor!

This week the government put a nationwide ban on Tujilijili....overnight it became illegal to buy, sell, consume, stock, distribute, import, manufacture, possess or drink it.  What is tujilijili?  Plastic packetes/sachets with 20-50mls of liquor, 40-50% alcohol by volume. Some are strongly flavored, other are straight shots of whisky, rum or branday. Small, cheap (500 to 1000 kwacha/ 10 - 20 cents  per sachet) and easy to conceal, the tujilijili packets that litter the streets are evidence of its popularity and ubiquity.  While the response to the ban has been publicly positive, the traders and manufacturers are finding public support for their position as they have been left with unsold and now illegal stock.

Testing your patience

After all my many visits this was the first time I saw a sign!  There are cars triple parked in front of the sign and the entrance so it's no wonder I never noticed.  Taking pics of/in government buildings is a big no-no so unfortunately you'll have to trust me that this is a pretty flattering view on the facility.

A friend of mine recently asked me to walk her through the steps of getting a local drivers' license.  I happened to be a queue at the time to pay for my car's road fitness certificate.  The only thing I could tell her was DON'T DO IT!  Doing thing 'the right way' (legal, by the books, or whatever is the way you are "supposed" to do it), particularly with getting a license to drive....only tests your patience, not your driving skill.  Remember my experience getting a driver's license?

Getting the road fitness was not as ridiculous but it was still straight out of a Monty Python sketch.

So, our car needs an annual 'fitness' sticker.  Right away the problems start.  There is no STICKER.  There is a circle on a piece of paper that you have to cut out and somehow affix to your front window.  Our car has 4 stickers on the FRONT WINDSCREEN that are each 3.5 inches across: one practically tattooed on from when the car lived in Japan and three for Zambia, a road tax certificate ($90/year), the fitness "sticker," and the scam of the year, a carbon tax sticker.   Now, that is safe.  TJ has a proof on insurance sticker as well.  The carbon tax came into effect randomly, we had to scramble to pay b/c they started giving fines right away for not having it.  Then they decided the carbon tax law was illegal, ridiculous or unnecessary, so they stopped it right away as well.

Because I have been there before and know the routine, I decide to just take care of this errand myself.  (My first mistake). Most people just have someone do it for them, a driver from work, a gardener, an 'errand boy' or something.  I have no idea how much the thing costs and we don't have a driver or errand boy, so I figure easier just to do myself.  I park by the Dept. of Mines, collect my papers and copies of papers that they might or might not ask for.  Then I am confronted by the queue, the line.  Since the new government took over there are noticeable differences in how things are run.  At the DMV (here the RTSA) there is a room (room 12) with bank of windows with tellers/agents and computers. In the past there is a disorderly order to the situation - a bit of jockeying for your place in a non-line but people generally know when it's their turn. When someone tries to sneak in, everyone jumps in to tell them to wait or let so-and-so go first.  It's not pleasant on a hot day to be stuck in room 12 but it's not torture.

Anyway, maybe it's the way of the new government...now the room has a row of new (but already broken) airport style waiting chairs and the door has two military guards with big guns (today two really beautiful women) and a private security guy with his little beret and official vest letting people in as seats open up. The line is out the door and along a narrow path which likely would not be covered in the rain.  Already I am glad I didn't come in Feb when the fitness certificate expired but when it was raining.

After a full boring hour in line it's my turn.  I give the agent my expired form with the hole in it from where I cut out the not-a-sticker-sticker.  She asks if I need to take care of anything else.  Nope.  OK, it's 28,080 kwacha.  B/C the smallest bill is 50 it's rounded up to 29,000.  But she doesn't have change, so I pay 30,000 kwacha or $5.24.  I waited in line for an hour to pay $5.24.  This just gets me the application for examination and the receipt, which curiously says "Payment Reference:  NOT APPLICABLE."

Next I have to go the the inspection yard which is TOTAL COMEDY, again, straight out of Monty Python.  I thankfully have thought at least to have the car washed and have changed out a brake light bulb. The inspector, faced with the examination sheet with a list of 15 things to examine opens the hood/bonnet and proceeds to scold me for daring to bring in a dirty car.  I look at him like he's from Mars.  The car is sparkling clean inside and out -- it's so clean no one recognises me at school in the morning.  "But," he shows me, "the engine is not." And he marks down the fault in a very dramatic fashion and inexplicably makes a note that the exterior car body is dirty as well.  I remember suddenly that TJ had to get an his car engine steam cleaned after failing his fitness inspection (for this reason alone) and fear the worst.  "Next time I will fail you if you bring this dirty car in again."  The car gets a pass despite the dust.  It wasn't exceptionally dirty, just normal car- driving-in-the-city-dirty...it was cleaned a month ago when we got the last oil change -- a comedy of a whole other sort involving our car being held at Central Police while our mechanic sat in a holding cell for getting 'caught' answering the phone while driving back to the house.  The phone call he took of course was TJ calling to see when he would be bringing the car back.  D'oh!  Anyway, looking at my dusty engine was the extent of the rigorous-on-paper-only "examination."

Now I had to take the paper to get signed.  There is a little shack by the gate which has 2 desks crammed in and 4 examiners (one literally smashed behind the door on a tiny collapsing folding chair.  I wait and eventually get the paper signed....by the same guy who 'inspected' it.  Why I had to take my papers to a new spot and wait my turn only to have it signed by the same guy, I'm not sure.

Next, to "Room 7" (next to room 8, the one with no sign or number) to submit the examination papers and get the paper with the not-a-sticker "sticker."  The line for Room 7 is easily an hour long and lunch time is 15 minutes away so I pack up and return the next morning, hoping that my decision to delay does not mean I have to start over.  Mercifully, it does not and mercifully there is NO ONE in line.  The agent takes my papers, prints my 'sticker' and instructs me to return with it to the examination lot.  There I am to find the examiner.

I return as instructed to the examination lot without the car but with my husband.  I am warmly greeted by the examiner "Ah, Mama, you have returned!  What can I do for you?"  TJ on the other hand is detained at the gate and reprimanded by a guard for accompanying me.  The guard is in turn scolded for wasting time reprimanding TJ.  While this is going on the sticker get signed (sure enough, the same examiner as last year and the same examiner as the previous day) and we are released from RTSA until the next sticker comes due.