Another note about transport. Sometimes it is amazingly redeeming. I have definitely ridden part way out of Lusaka on some strangers lap in an jammed packed minibus-grateful to be going. Getting any transport home when you think you won't is amazing. And riding in the back of a flatbed truck at dusk down my beautiful dirt road is one of my favorite things. The other day I had a really good conversation with my seatmate on the way to the village. We talked about black people and white people, HIV, development... I told him we don't have malaria in the US- which was a surprise. It was raining, the road was muddy and slippery and eventually I was the only passenger left. I asked the driver if he stayed in Lwimba or past and he said he stayed back at a past turnoff.

Keli: So I am the only one?
Driver: Yes. (fishtailing in the mud)
Keli: Oh sorry sorry.
Driver: But how would you manage in this? To walk? No.

So it doesn't ALWAYS steal my soul. It was nearly dark when we reached the market, my bag was wet, it was raining and the road was so muddy I lost my flip flop several times. But it was so nice to be home, walking past the taverns- the swarming laughter, chatter and reggae music competing with the pulsing cicadas.

Garbanzo was also happy that I was home. I could tell because if I was not in motion he was sitting somewhere on my person.
Garbanzo is often very muddy.
Now no place will ever feel like home unless there is a muddy cat sitting on my neck surreptitiously licking my face.

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The thing about haphazard gardening is that is doesn't actually work that well. I may have transplanted some weeds so that they may have more room to flourish...

The story of Zanzibar will be told via photos.
Merry Christmas.