A Real Business

My home business is going very well these past few months and it has become a real viable business in Zambia. 

All the legal work of registering the company and myself with PACRA,ZRA,NAPSA and Immigration was completed and I am so thankful to have a work permit of my own now and the ability to work in Zambia. I have just hired my third full-time employee, and even with that we will still be maxing out on the work there is to do for now. I just paid my first round of taxes, to the Zambia Revenue Authority so I know it is real!   

We started the business as W's Cakery but when I tried to register with the companies registration association they said they weren't allowing Initials in the name, so I needed to pick another one. Strange because everywhere you look there are small businesses with that very thing. But it made me have to think of what to change it to and "Megan's" became the next choice. So while it is a bit daunting to have your name on everything, its also pretty exciting. When my friend was working on the logo she had Megan's in big font and Cakery small. I asked her to switch it so that CAKERY is more prominent than me. But she even snuck a little M, in the scrolling at the bottom.  :)  

So now we have our official logo, hats, aprons, t-shirts, new business cards, facebook page, etc. 

Megan's Cakery now has an "image"! 

My sales have doubled since July and I have begun supplying a few more products at a few new places. A Large bank in town has been buying cakes for their employees birthdays and I have a standard bagel orders for a few individuals as well as shops, including the cafeteria at the American Embassy! 

I tentatively have an order for christmas fruitcakes from one of the three major grocery stores in town. The order was kindly passed off to me from my friend Christine who has her own bakery which is for charity. Since my bakery is for profit, I have had more paperwork to fill out to become a supplier and am still waiting on the number of cakes. 

Somewhere around 100 is what was the estimate. Funny thing is I do not even care for fruitcakes. I have never had a desire to make one. or liked to make one. Or liked to eat one...I think you get the idea.  The recipe is from my friend and is very good (for a fruitcake!).  I had a lady ask me yesterday if she could order 250, unfortunately I had to tell her no. But would she be interested in 250 red velvet cupcakes instead??

The tortilla chips are selling faster than we can make them and we are very eager to get our shipment in a few weeks so we can modernize the equipment and expedite the chip making process.  Last week I started the “Breakfast On-the-Go”. 

We have a cute breakfast cart, attached to a bike that we drive to outside our gate near the corner where the traffic has to stop before turning. So we park it there and sell to the cars driving by. No one has to get out of the car and its easier than a drive thru! 

We are currently selling Cinnamon Rolls, Energy Bars and the mmEGG’n Bacon.

Egg,Bacon and Cheese on an English Muffin.  The first week went really well and I already have plans to get another cart and expand to an even busier location. 

We just serve from 6:30 to 8am. Which means we get up at 5am to prepare. And since we are waking up early, usually I am up at 4 something worried that I will wake up at 5, so lately I have been exhausted!  

We try to prep as much as we can ahead of time. The English muffins are made the day before, the cheese is sliced and bacon is mostly cooked so in the morning we just toast the muffins, and cook the bacon a few extra minutes. I got some really cool muffin top pans that my dad sent and they are perfect for cooking the eggs in the morning. We line them up pour the eggs in, bake 10 minutes and 24 perfect circle eggs pop right out of the pan we don’t even have to use oil or butter and then we assemble them. 

Sarah and Ian have been working part time for the business. Ian has been off school these last few months before starting at the new school in January. He has had a taste of a summer job, working in the family business. He joins one of the full-time guys selling the breakfast outside. The first day I sold with the guy and realized I have never seen a white person selling anything at the side of the road, so the smiles and honks and thumbs up were probably more for that reason than they wanted to buy something. But if nothing else, Ian standing out there with a tray in his hand alongside my other staff, draws some attention.  Sarah prepares the cinnamon rolls each day for the next day and then gets up at 5 to bake them. 

Jackson and Caleb wanted to get in on the “making money” aspect of the business so they help cut the foil that we use to wrap the mmEGG’n Bacon. Emma was helping out and using her crafty skills by cutting lots of fondant decorations out for the christmas cakes. 

It really is a family business. My dad is consulting and helping me with the business and spreadsheets and financial reports, my mom is the one who taught me how to bake and shares all her recipes with me, my kids are the reason for the years of experience in baking and then there’s James. He gives his input and help with most things from advertising, planning, budgeting, to yes go ahead and take a risk, to especially being there when I don’t know if I can do this. Sometimes I feel like I am just waiting for someone to realize I didn’t take business in school and I don’t particularly like Math or Economics and somehow I shouldn’t be allowed to have my own business!  :)  

But I like to bake. And I like to eat. And I like being able to making something so yummy that people will pay me for it and tell their friends about it and be excited about it! That outweighs the business and number crunching and paperwork so that on most days, when my staff actually shows up for work and things are running smoothly, I am enjoying it. There is something very satisfying about making the “best” cupcakes or the “best” bagels in town and to see and hear people try them  and say “ wow. now THIS is a Bagel. this is just like a bagel in America!”  

I grew up on bagels in South Florida, quite literally cutting my teeth on them. My dad would bring them home for us on Saturday mornings, or if I was willing to wake up early enough, I could go for breakfast with him and sit in the bagel shop enjoying my sesame seed lightly toasted bagel with cream cheese. The cream cheese was so thick that even now in our overpriced cream cheese deprived country my mouth is watering. I would love to be transported back to Coral Springs just for a morning breakfast with Dad, I wake up early enough now. We could sit in the corner booth at Bagelmania, him with his black coffee and me with my orange juice and I would be happy even to discuss Math, over a bagel. 

Speed

The “summer months” have sped by and “our summer” is now here. 

In June, our lives were very much up in the air and we were not sure the next step ahead. James’s teaching position was ending, of his own choosing, and we didn’t know what was next.  He ended the teaching job with another job already lined up. But that one “ended up” falling through and it was a highly stressful time not knowing what was next. Especially when my parents were coming to visit. What could be more stressful for a son-in-law living in Africa then to be jobless when his in-laws show up for the first time ever!   But the Lord already knew the next step.

Some friends from church heard about our situation and offered James a temporary job. They had recently started a side business with a motorcycle courier service and asked James just to startup and boost the business.  We were very thankful for the new job but still wondering what would happen in October.

Only two months into the job and they were discussing a partnership in the company.

So now James is Managing Director of Macspeedy’s and the business is growing! 

The market is so ripe for it,  as traffic in Lusaka is so bad and companies currently hire taxis and drivers to take things across town and sending things via the motorcycle is much cheaper. So its all about getting the word out and more and more sales.  I have asked a few times if he can just throw the kids on the back of the bike and have them delivered to school, but so far it’s been a No. 

He is working a lot of hours, and is “always on”, but we are extremely thankful and marvel at the Lord providing this job. One that can carry us into the future and help meet the needs of our family.  And honestly, my 2 cents, is that it is refreshing to be out of the “ministry world” where things seem to run on a whole different level, then the rest of the normal working world. 

His abilities and skills are very well suited to this line of work and he is even using his past experience in Management and Human Resources at UPS  from 17 years ago. You never know when you will use and need something that you learned way back. That is one of the neat things about life. All our experiences, shape us and prepare us for the next thing we do. What’s funny is that James has always said, “if my family’s livelihood ever depends on my being a salesman I am afraid we will starve!”.... and now part of the job is selling the services. 

So, he just turned 40 a few weeks ago and rather than buying a motorcycle for a “mid-life” experience.  He is running a motorcycle business!!  :)   

Grace said she told her friend at school that “my dad has a motorcycle, thats his work”.

About 10 years ago when James was a pastor in KY, someone once told him that he looked like a “biker” because of his goatee and shaved hair. She told him as a negative thing, but we laughed because I liked his “biker look”.  Still do. Thus the goatee after all these years, and Leather jackets are nice, but personally I think he can stop before we get to the “chains and all” look.  

Necessity is the Mother of Invention

After almost 5 years we are now enjoying CORN tortilla chips on Sunday nights.

Our tradition has been reinstated. 

“Where there is a will there is a way,” pretty much sums up my dear husbands work ethic and determination. So for about a year and a half of researching and overseeing the project, Sarah and James have produced homemade corn tortilla chips. Now my business gets to take the credit for their hard work and determination. About a year ago two stores started stocking some tortilla chips. Spar Grocery and Woolworths. Both are imported from South Africa and as soon as they hit these stores , each selling their own brand, they are gone. So it is hard to find them...until now. 

We are selling them. 

A few weeks ago marked the first grocery store (Melissa's Supermarket) that bought them as well as the only mexican restaurant in town. In all of Zambia as far as I know.  Two other cafes are stocking them as well. (Blue moon Cafe and The Deli). They are a big hit and we are selling them as fast as we can make them. Yesterday a woman trying a sample at the market said she felt like she was back in Texas! 

It is hugely labor intensive taking about 8 hours of work to make 10-15 bags of chips.

Is it really worth it then? 

Absolutely.

We are increasing production and have a full-time employee now that only makes chips. All day long. 

First the corn is boiled and soaks 12 hours. Then the corn is drained and ground into a fine grain. We currently only have a small hand grinder and so for a while it had to be  ground through twice to get the texture right. Then it is taken and made into a dough.

Then the dough is rolled out into tortillas and pressed flat and thin and then hand rolled out some more with a rolling pin. From there they are cooked on each side, then cut into triangles. Then Fried, then salted, then cooled and packaged. 

Living in a country where corn (maize) is the staple food product you would think that we could easily refine this process but that has not been the case.Even the hammer mills that grind corn for very cheap could not grind wet corn. It has to be dried out. Then we tried an Indian (as in from India, Indian) friends’s grinder but it only made it mush. So we are still hand grinding. 

Thus the lengthy process to make corn chips. Some people here attempt to make chips out of the flour tortillas... it was that desperate of a situation! 

But, as part of growing the business we are getting a shipment of an electric grinder from the states, via Mexico, an industrial tortilla press and a fryer via Canada to help reduce the production time and increase the amount of chips flying out of our doors. It really is a global effort to bring chips here. :)  Sarah has turned over the production to our full-time employee Fungai and Ian now has a part-time job working alongside him. She has moved on to developing Salsa. She has gotten the recipe down now and we hope in the next few weeks to add that to our repertoire of goods sold.  

We excitedly introduce EL GRINGO Corn tortilla chips to ZAMBIA! 

Next time... from the Cakery, we discuss bagels and ice cream.

They Came.

I was talking to my mom on the phone last night and mentioned the kids signing up for their new school and one of the kids friends staying with us for a couple weeks while her parents went to South Africa, and then I said, “And you know exactly what I am talking about!”. Because you were here. You met my friends. You saw where the kids were going to go to school. You saw what I am talking about and now you know. 

It was a great 2 weeks, and I am so glad my parents were able to come visit us, here...in Zambia. It’s as if the last 5 years of our life now can be understood. It can be seen clearly. It makes sense. 

It’s a difficult thing to move away from family and friends. We have experienced that a few times, the farthest before here was Montana. My parents were living in Georgia at the time, and Montana is pretty much as far from there as you can get. 

In my family, being far away is measured by how many hours it takes to get there in a car or how many plane rides, and if there was a dire emergency I could be there in “fill-in the blank” hours.  My parents moved from their families in Wisconsin and Illinois to Florida when they were starting their family. And I can remember every summer getting in the car and driving up to see my grandparents. So I don’t think my parents naturally assumed that we would live in their backyard when we established our own family, but I know for sure they didn’t expect Africa. But back to Montana...it seemed agonizingly far when the kids were little. and the winters were cold. and my sweet Emma Rose was born early and my mom couldn’t come visit until a week later. That was hard.

We were far. 

With the exception of our 4 years in Montana, we always managed to see my family at least once if not twice a year and my mom always found the time to drive up and see us in Kentucky every few months.  Whether it was for the major life events, ( the most memorable being the birth of Caleb, the only one of the kids that she was there at the birth for ),  or the everyday events, to watch the kids while James and I had time away or just to get her Nonna fix, she was able to hop in the car and get to us, to me, whenever I needed her. 

Then Africa. 

And it was hard to understand. 

And it was hard to be happy. 

And it was hard not to feel the loss of a daughter and grandchildren. 

And it was hard to relate and empathize.

And it was hard to arrange times to talk on the phone just to feel connected.

And it was hard not to meet the newest grandchild until a year and a half later.

And really hard when two of the kids were hospitalized. 

And maybe the hardest when it seemed like my own life was falling apart.  

And we were in Africa. 

Not just a few hours away. 

We were many, many, tears, away. 

Many years, away.

Many miles, away.

Many shots away.

Many days of planning, away.

Many days of saving money, away.

Many plane rides and layovers, away.

And then they came.

Oh Happy Day! 

And now, they have seen. They have been here.  

They have sat at the dinner table in my home 

They have met my friends, 

They have spent time with the kids, 

They have seen where we shop and what we do and how much things cost here.

They have seen where we go when we just need a break from Africa. (The Taj mom for sure...)

They have seen the marketplaces and the street vendors. They have had fruit, puppies, trinkets and any random objects held up to their window to buy. (Dad, Are you sure you didn’t want to buy a plunger or picture of the Zambian president?)

They have sat in the dark and been here when we scurried to find the flashlights and waited for the power to come back on. (and heard the kids pretending to scream or get lost in the dark)

They have met the children and seen the work that we established for the orphans. 

They have driven with me through Chipata and Kabanana. 

They have worshipped with us at church, both with our expat friends and with our impoverished but full-hearted Zambian friends. 

And they have heard the incredible, soulful singing.  And been moved. 

And there were drums, and they were enjoyed in a way that I never thought my dad would enjoy drums in church.

And they have seen and experienced first hand the selfless giving and serving by others who have nothing, and yet give with joy out of their nothing.  

And we did all these things together. Experienced them together. 

Not just me writing home trying to tell them how it feels when you are invited into someone’s home and you sit on a broken couch, looking around and you see how many essential things are missing from that home, like electricity and running water, and a kitchen. And trying to explain how you count the number of kids that all sleep in the living room, and hear them say how grateful they are that you came to visit but really you are just thinking of how as the visitor you have received more blessing from them and can learn so much about gratefulness from them. 

It’s not something that can be explained. It is only something that can be felt, and felt only by experience. 

They have seen the elephants with us, gone on safari and played countless card games with the kids. Who knew a card game could get so loud and intense? Oh yes, this is the Riordan Italian-Irish side of the family on that one! Stories of “when I was a boy”, from Poppa were told again and more kids were old enough to laugh at them this time, I think even one or two ones I didn’t remember.  And for every fresh fruit and vegetable and salad that they couldn’t eat, there were baked goods from the Cakery to compensate. So that even in my business and sales, they not only saw some of the stresses but have tasted the goodness. 

They have experienced the painfully slow internet to the point of it being commented that its almost better not to have it at all then to expect it will be working well.

They have seen how we run out of talk time and have to top up with scratch off cards for the phone. In one way or another they have had to wait...and wait.. and wait.

Welcome to Zambia.

When they stepped off the plane and Jackson’s and my hearts were beating so fast because we were excited, for me it was more than just excited to see them. 

It was to be able to have them enter into my life. A life, that in many ways has been closed off for the last 4 1/2 years. It was an excitement that maybe things might make a little more sense, maybe they can see.  

SO they made it. They conquered their own fears of the unknown, -of Africa, of eating and drinking the right things to not get sick, flying for hours and hours, bugs, spiders, lizards, mosquitos, malaria. 

It took some time for them to visit. Maybe just to see if this was for real. If this was really going to be home. More than a passing fancy, or an emotional high, but to see that we are here.  (for now...)  - that’s for you mom, it’s easier that way. :)    

And in all of this they were telling me they love me. they love us, they came for all of us. but, it’s me.  

I know. Loud and Clear.

And if they are not ever able to come again, -if health, finances or desire fails it’s really alright with me, because I am content and happy!

They came!

A Developing Country

I have recently realized first-hand what it means to live in a developing country. 

It might seem like a surprise that it has taken over 4 years to see. But certainly the definition of developing country is clear but not until you live in a developing country do you understand what that fully means.  At some point in the last 38 years, countries in poverty were changed from “third world countries” as I remember them being called to “developing countries”.

I see it now as I drive over paved (or tarred ) roads that used to be dirt. When I see a shopping center, a new grocery store, more electronics for sale, etc. 

The pot-hole filled dusty dirt road that takes me into Kabanana has been paved and what used to take 15-20 minutes to drive down takes 5 minutes. 

There was just one main grocery store, Shoprite at Manda Hill when we moved here.

Manda Hill was one of the two large shopping centres in Lusaka. In fact they were renovating it from an outdoor strip mall to an enclosed AIR CONDITIONED! Shopping Mall the first year we lived here. No OSHA approved saftey measures, I remember walking under scaffolding and over electrical wires to go from one store to the next, since they were proudly “still trading” during the renovations. 

Since that time, 2 other brand new shopping malls were built in various parts of town. New office and banking complexes. New hotels and lodges. New restaurants and movie theaters, giving off the feel of a developed, richer country. The city has had increased problems with traffic in the last year especially as more middle class Zambians have been buying cars more easily. 

When we moved here we bought a used Prado, actually fairly old. It came from South Africa and we had to pay about $7,000  USD in taxes just to get it into the country. 

Now there are a few companies in Lusaka that are able to import cars from Japan more cost efficiently and so there has been a boom of cars on the road and not enough roads to host them all. 

I drove by a restaurant we went to our first year here. It was nice, but I haven’t even thought twice about it now since newer restaurants, some chain ones out of South Africa have moved in. 

As I was taking my parents around to different places I often would say, this was just a dirt road when we moved here, or this shopping mall wasn’t even here, or we used to have to pay for our electricity here, but now there are 4 different paypoints more convenient to us.  All signs of growth and progress.

 Even just the access to food items now as opposed to before. We can find many things now that we couldn’t before. It just now becomes a matter of availability and cost. How much are you willing to spend on cream cheese?  8 USD for a block of it?  Frozen berries and sour cream. And the list goes on and on.

I can easily look at things and see that it is a bit more “comfortable” living here than it was when we first moved here. And that makes me think 2 things. 

First, the irrational. It’s almost like I want it to still “count” that we moved here when many of these things weren’t available. So it still matters that here we are in Africa where you can’t even get something that you can in America...boy its really rough. But thats not why we came, to deny ourselves access to anything and everything you could possibly ever think you might want. So that people would be impressed that we are still making it here, though outwardly it may not seem as difficult as it once did. 

We moved because we had a heart to come and work alongside the Zambians in the work we were involved in. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t find pesto sauce or parmesan cheese, whip cream and chocolate chips at the store. 

It didn’t matter that many of the roads we traveled on were dirty and dusty. We came because we knew that’s what we wanted and what we believed God had paved the way for us to do. So now that I can find those things at the store (except the parmesan cheese), does that make it any less important that those things are here, or that I am here for that matter? 

It is still difficult to deal with the corruption in legal systems and especially with the police. You are never quite sure when you see the police or a roadblock checkpoint if you are going to “get by” this time. We have been having more power outages than before. The internet though cheaper now than 5 years ago is slower because there is not enough bandwidth for the country. It’s like its developing in someways faster than it has the infrastructure for.

As my mom said, its almost better to just not have it than to expect it is working when it isn’t or it is so slow. Everyone has a cell phone now, because they just skipped over the whole landline era. Dad said it was very interesting to be sitting in a poor church with no electricity or running water and hear people’s cell phones going off.  It’s a strange picture and mix of technology and development. 

The second thing that this developing makes me think about is that it is surface and “comfort” changes. 

I still drive by the UN building a few times a week where it lists on the wall the goals, or visions of the UN. Reduce infant mortality and maternal death...Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger. 

And I stop right there. That is the one that always gets me. 

That there are degrees of hunger and degrees of poverty.  You can never rid a society of hunger and poverty, but the realistic goal to get rid of the EXTREME versions of that...

That for all the fancy hotels and shopping malls and paved roads I am now driving on,  there is still extreme poverty, short life spans, death, sickness and disease everywhere. 

And though the city may be “advancing”  and looking a bit more developed in some places, how many less kids are living on the streets now than 5 years ago. How many kids are now in school?  How many fewer people have died from cholera? On the whole are there more people who have access to clean water now and what are the statistics on that? 

And when its cold at night how many people have enough for warm blankets and fires.

Has the country’s health care improved so that the average person can now get good health care and be seen by a decent doctor or be attended to at a clean hospital?

Or are those things just now available for the wealthy?

I am glad there are nice(r) hospitals and clinics to go to now, if we need them. 

But how about the majority of the population that are still only able to go to the main hospital in town where many people say, you go there to die. Where women are daily giving birth to their babies on the floors of the hospital. 

I don’t really know how you go about developing a country, I have never claimed to be interested in or know much about politics or policies or public education available to all. I have heard that in Kenneth Kaunda’s day everyone was promised an egg a day. That didn’t last long, but it was a nice idea. 

I like driving on paved roads. I really like the ability to have dinner out at a nice restaurant. I really, really like being able to go to a nice grocery store a half mile from my house.  But, I don’t want those things to lull me into thinking that the country is better off now than it was before. 

I was reminded of this, just this week. I was meeting James for lunch and as I parked the car, a boy as young as Jackson came up to the car, raggedy, runny nose and coughing. He was asking for 2 kwacha. 35 cents.  I didn’t want to just give him money but told him after I finished maybe I would have something for him. I walked on and he lingered at my car then later during lunch with our friends he came up to the table begging and was shooed away by the management. I still planned to get something for him to eat after. For some reason he just impacted me, I was thinking about my boys. 

But lunch carried on and then I went to look at some DVD’s  and I didn’t see him at the car when I left, so I just carried on. As I drove away in the distance I could see him in my rearview mirror holding up his hands just looking at me.  I felt bad, but not enough to turn the car around get caught up in traffic and then try to buy some food to give to him. 

The next day I bought some extra juice, a roll and a banana at the store because I knew I would be passing by the same place I saw him, and this time I wanted to be ready. But he wasn’t there. I hope I see him again. The little ones sometimes are working for older kids or even parents who then take the money from them, so I figure if I at least can give a little food, that can take the edge off the hunger. It won’t eradicate the extreme hunger but it can make a little tummy not so empty. 

One of my boys came home from school this week and told me that their friend was absent today and the teacher mentioned to pray for him. The boy cut himself with a razor.  He was using a razor blade to cut something out of his toy car. Common method of sharpening pencils at school, using it to cut things etc. 

But, The thing about this specific razor blade was that it was just used by someone that had HIV/AIDS. 

And now an 8 year old boy used it and cut himself.  And my son was relaying the incident to me. There have been things I never expected my kids to encounter. But it is reality. And it is life.  I wanted to use the opportunity to encourage them yes lets pray. Let’s learn from this too, do you ever use a razor blade? No. And at the same time to teach them some balance in response to these situations. Not to fear or panic but to be wise.

These things happen in developed countries, certainly. 

I am concerned though that the semblance of outward development doesn’t really solve the problems or address the weightier issues of developing the people and their lives, the very heart of Zambia. And it’s really, really important. Because it’s a beautiful people. 

Salaula

 I didn’t grow up wearing random people’s clothing. 

Sometimes my older sisters clothes, (hand-me-downs) 

but not everything and certainly not all the time.

We were blessed to be able to have new clothes basically whenever we needed or even wanted them. 

When we just were starting out having our own kids, we were given some baby clothes, which I used for the kids, but still the majority was new clothes or older sibling clothes still in good condition. 

As a young mother, I remember some people portrayed shopping at goodwill as “more holy”.  So I tried it, I mean who wouldn’t want to be “more holy” if thats all it took?  But alas I just couldn’t. And I will tell you the secret I learned, it doesn’t make you any better of a person. Not one little bit. It can even make you proud because you DO shop at Goodwill. Crazy I know.

But, Why didn’t it work for me? 

The store always smelled bad, things were so disorganized and just seemingly thrown together and I never really found anything that “great” or  worth all the effort to search.  

So what I did was shop the sales, and in general clothes don’t cost that much in America and relied on grandparents spoiling the kids with a nice new dress for the holiday or a package sent with something new for each child. And it worked. Our family grew and then our kids did the hand-me-down thing. Big boxes of clothes stored for the next child to use them as needed, and having all the kids within a relatively short span, many of the outfits were still in style for the little kids. 

However many times along the way when we used to be a “pastors family” we were given clothes, not really asked if we needed them but just given them. The random garbage bag handed to us after church.  hmmm...I will never forget one “bag of clothes” that had several pairs of little boy underwear in it. And I will just say even with hand-me-downs I ALWAYS drew the line even back then on used undergarments, I just had to. But this one “donor” said, oh and don’t worry all the underwear in the bag just has mud stains from the boys playing out in the mud....WHAT???   

I felt a bit mortified and struggling to feel appreciative. Because many times it was a blessing to receive clothes, and of course I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. But really?

So fast forward 10 years. My kids grow out of their clothing and guess where it goes? 

In black garbage bags to donate. 

We usually have two bags, one to donate to the kids in Kabanana, or to a family in poverty that we know and one bag to “throw away”. Clothes with rips, stains--food or grass stains that is!, buttons missing, zippers broke etc. And I take that bag and tell Catherine (our maid) “these clothes are finished” and show the holes and stains and rips. Then I set them aside. And she knows that if she can use them she can have them. But it is a bit of an unspoken, yet slightly awkward thing. I don’t want to assume that she wants our old and discarded clothes. But almost every time she does. And yet I wouldn’t want to throw them directly into the trash because that is wasteful. But I also don’t want to donate those to the kids in Kabanana. Just because they are poor, it doesn’t mean that they should have to wear shabby ripped up clothing. So every few months we do the garbage bag thing. 

Then the kids or James and I need more clothes so we do the Salaula thing. 

The open air market of used clothing on the street. 

Isn’t that Ironic. 

But maybe more ironic, is that I enjoy it. 

And that it is even more disorganized and chaotic and smelly then Goodwill every was. And it takes much more time to pilfer through pile after pile of clothing.

And it is a test of patience. That you will even find what you are looking for.

And of trust that when they see you they won’t raise the price, or that you won’t get money stolen from you as you walk through. 

You certainly have to be in the mood to Salaula. If you are not, it is just hot, dusty, way too crowded, noisy and everything that can be “cool” and “neat”  just becomes aggravating and frustrating. 

There are 2 places I go. One is in a market near the house and the other is in town. 

The market near the house on a few occasions I have taken my kids with me. Usually to buy shoes sometimes, or let them pick out what kinds of clothes they like. But generally it works best if I just know what they like then come home with something. They have proper stalls there, of wood and black plastic (kind of like garbage bags) covering the stalls and the extra clothing that is not hung up on makeshift hangers is spread out on a table in a pile to look through. 

Town is a whole different story. I don’t take the kids there. It is too busy and I am doing well to keep my hand on my purse and my “game on, don’t even think about messing with me, ignore whatever rude comments are made and keep walking” face. It generally works well. Even within town there are several levels to it so I always stay on the “right side” of the road for a muzungu. 

The used clothing come in bales, sent from places including the US, UK and China. Then people buy the bales to sell. (My one issue here is that I think many of these used clothes are “donated to Africa”  but then once they arrive they are sold. Sold to others to produce an income for themselves so that part is good at least but still seems a bit iffy). 

The bales are categorized. Children clothes. Ladies skirts. Sweaters. Swimwear.Undergarments.Jeans.Towels.Sheets.Trousers.Dresses and on and on.

So each seller basically opens up their bale of used clothing dumps it on the palette or the ground that has been covered with a tarp or mealie sack and then people come and start picking through it.  Whenever a bale is opened there is a huge group standing around waiting. The people are wanting to grab up the best items to then take and resell for a higher price themselves, or just wanting the best shirt or skirt, whatever- as the buyer. The seller often stands or sits in the midst of all the clothes throwing out them here and there for people to look at. 

So when you are shopping there, you weave in and out of the constant flow of people walking and shopping themselves, dodging the occasional car. I stop and look through then move on. Since we have been shopping this way for a few years now, I am getting better at figuring out the piles after picking up just one or two items. I can now spot the chinese clothing based on the style,(um how do you describe some of those styles?!?! )  and the feel of the fabric (cheap) and the sizing (too small for this girl!).

And I know the piles from the USA. If I see 2 or 3 recognizable labels American Eagle, Old Navy, Abercrombie, Merona, etc I know I have found a good pile and then I take time to look through some of it. I don’t know how many American Eagle t-shirts I have bought in the last 2 years, they are very popular to get rid of it seems. Sometimes the items are pretty random, some small town baseball teams jerseys, a family reunion with pictures of family members on it, etc. 

So the good thing is you can find some great deals. I mean great! If you are in to that kind of thing, which I totally understand if you are not.  So today I went into town.

And I bought a sweater for 3 kwacha. A name brand sweater for 50cents. And it looked good. Then I bought a few things for the kids which are usually easier to find and then I stood at a pile that was just being opened. I had never done that before but as I was saying I was in the “mood”. I stood for about 10 minutes watching, picking up a few items here and there and then found one shirt. The man had been shouting out 15kwacha, 15 kwacha, 15 kwacha for the entire time I was standing there. Just over and over, very loudly. When I decided I only wanted the one item I handed my 20 kwacha to get change and then he told me there was no change because it was 20 kwacha. And I immediately became UN, in the “mood”. I argued back, you only have said 15 the entire time and then the woman working there said, no its 15 and 20. Some are 20 some are 15. I was clearly irritated and then a woman next to me said thats not right and I said I know! I waited a minute and saw he wasn’t budging and though I should have thrown the shirt back and gotten my money I just walked away, very mad. 

My shopping was done for the day. Probably be a few months before I venture back out.  It was less than a dollar difference $3.75 instead of $2.50 but it was the principle that bothered me! Oh well. And then I got the shirt home and tried it on and it didn’t quite fit right.  Which might mean I have to advance to the next level and that is trying on the clothing there in the middle of town. Over my clothes of course, but I always find it looks silly as I am driving by and see a woman trying on a bra over her clothing, or slipping a skirt underneath her chitenge to try on. So please call me on it if you ever see me doing that! Occasionally I have tried a dress on, at the stalls that are enclosed but don’t really want to make a habit of it. I think I rather waste $3 then make even more of a spectacle than I already am walking through town. 

Every so often we do buy new clothes at the stores here in the mall. The clothing is a lot more than what it is in the states and the quality on many is not great. The ones that are decent quality, like Woolworths and Foschini (my favorite!) are pretty expensive but very nice when its a birthday or christmas or they are having a great end of season sale. 

But the VERY exciting thing is that we have had grandparents buying clothes for the kids and us, and my husband has been shopping in America for the last week, which means that we all are getting something new and obviously in style in just a few days. 

Kind of makes you feel like Laura Ingalls driving into town getting a “store bought” instead of handmade dress!  In our case “Brand new” instead of “used” clothing! 

Pictures to follow! 

Street Vendors

Sometimes you have to make light of an annoying situation, or try to find the bright side of something stressing you. 

For me, lately driving around Lusaka has become stressful. 

I don’t know what it is but this year it seems traffic has gotten much worse.  There are always people walking everywhere, or selling things. On the sides of the road, across the road, buses darting here and there, people driving on the shoulders to avoid the traffic or even across empty lanes and turning into the school because no one is coming and the kids might be late and there is a long line of traffic and they are aimlessly following the car in front of them but then they get caught and pulled over for reckless driving and the officer says he will impound your vehicle and you now have to find a way out and go later to the office downtown and miss your bible study for breaking the law, and then apologize to the officers and admit your fault but ask for pardon...ummm.... never mind.  

So yeah traffic,  its really bad, but the street vendors sometimes give you something to look at, or laugh at. 

At many of the stoplights and intersections all over Lusaka, there will be people standing by your cars with very normal and very random things to sell. And these guys can be very annoying but also very good at their job. They know if you only half way glance at their item through your sunglasses that they MIGHT have a customer. 

Rubber Car Mats or a Christmas Tree anyone? 

There is the “tourist” section where you can buy all things Zambian, Our “friend” Lazarus stands near the mall with his Zambian shirts and flags and hats selling to cars that stop or pass by and waving and saying hi to those of us that just drive by regularly and have chatted. 

Then you have the guy with the tomatoes and onions and avocados.

Or the apples and oranges. Then the standard newspaper salesmen and saleswoman and those selling the prepaid talk time. They are everywhere EXCEPT where you need them to be first thing in the morning between 6 and 8 am taking the kids to school and no one is to be found. 

There are the housewares, electronics, antennas, dog collars, jumper cables, toilet bowl cleaners, plungers, roach killer, pencils, and the list goes on and on. Pillows, hat racks, laundry baskets, lamps...

It truly is sooo random.

Turkeys, chickens, kittens and dogs. Yes, they will stand at your car window when you stop, holding up puppy dogs, one in each hand just pleading for you to buy them. 

Many times the dogs have been stolen themselves or are carrying diseases. 

Then closer to town there are men who are selling clothing. Pants and skirts. They buy from the used clothing bales that are opened up and laid out on the ground to sell in the market and then come out a bit from that area and let customers window shop.  Or more accurately they hold them in front of every car window that they walk by.

The hilarious thing about these guys is they stretch out the waistband as they pass looking for the size of the person that would fit the clothing. If they think they find a match they will linger longer at the window. I saw a cute skirt today and so rolled down my window to ask about the price. 65 kwacha. You have to talk and decide fast because normally mid-transaction the traffic starts to go and you will be honked at for holding up traffic while you window shop. and rightly so. 

65, I said no thanks. Then he said ok 50. no thanks. My offer was 30. Then he throws the skirt through the window at me and said ok take it. I grab the waistband to see ( since there are not sizes marked in some of these items) and realized no it probably won’t fit right. Then I handed it back, he grabs the waistband and says, no...look it stretches!  Yes, it does but just because something stretches and you can “fit” into it doesn’t mean that it “fits”. A truth I am afraid many people have yet to figure out.

A few days ago Caleb wanted me to buy him some sunglasses with his money. I told him I wasn’t sure where to get ones for kids, thinking about stores that sell them. He said well all you need to do is drive somewhere and then the guys with all the sunglasses stuck into the foam board that they hold will come up to your window and you can get them. 

That boy is a genius! I had forgotten. It’s something (not exactly sure what, but) when your kids idea of where to shop is from these vendors. 

So I was driving through town today and found a guy with sunglasses. So I bought them. Very simple and cheap! He said 25, I said 10 knowing that I would pay 15 if I had to. He said 15. Deal. Sunglasses bought in less than a minute. I love bartering. The power is with the buyer, I love that!  Especially if it’s not something you need then its just a bonus if you get what you want at the price you want. 

But the main thing I was thinking as I started this post was that sometimes its nice to have a little fun with these guys. 

So, the sunglass man comes to the window ( most always the windows are rolled up for safety ) and I am WEARING sunglasses. He tries to convince me to buy and I just smile and point to my sunglasses on my face. 

The cell phone holder guy comes over, I hold up my phone and show him, I’m good. Already have one buddy. 

The man with the fruit. I have just come from the grocery store, so I hold up my bag of apples to the window, got it covered. 

So today there was a man holding a cheap knockoff of the game scrabble in one hand and a tummy tightener with a picture on the front of a woman in an aerobic leotard  (remember those) with leg warmers and big 80’s hair. (Scary!) 

 He came over and held up the tummy tightener. Hmm...why not the scrabble game? 

So I looked down, patted my tummy and said, “I’m good thanks."  

About half the time they get the joke and smile,  the other half they don’t. 

Either way I drive away a little less stressed by the traffic and vendors laughing either to myself or literally out loud.