One Day in Lusaka - Babies and Cockroaches
Early the next morning sis and I met the driver, and flew on Air Zimbabwe (scary prop jet) to Lusaka, Zambia. Although we arrived, most of our bags did not. The bags which did make it were battered, and there was a big piece of cardboard sticking out from my duffel bag (Interesting how even after getting rid of the movie and all the dollies and clothes we still had bulging bags. Girls have to shop, after all...)
As we had to wait for the driver, we hung around the baggage carrell until the next flight came in from Zim, and luckily our luggage was on it (some bags did not make that flight either and would arrive the next day). I was only staying in Lusaka (the main city in Zambia) until the next day, but sis was working there all week. We met the driver, who was, to our surprise, driving in a sort of convoy.
We were told that in December this driver had been attacked driving a diplomat and her family home from the airport, and although she and her child had managed to escape, the driver had been kidnapped and beaten, and left for dead. THIS driver, the man in our car! Wow. The way things work now is that there is a heavily-armed security vehicle on either side of the official car, and they accompany all of the drivers from the airport.
Sis and I weren't so sure what to think of all this - we had heard that Lusaka was relatively safe (especially compared to South Africa) and we were interested to see what we would find...
What we did find was an Interncontinental hotel that was less than adequete! What we found was a smoky room (when we had requested a non-smoky room) and when we decided to pay to be upgraded to a non-smoking room on a better floor, and opened the book of amenities, we found a cockroach, just LYING in wait for us. Not to be spoiled, but after Harare, this was a major shock. We decided to try to think positively, and sis went to work for a couple hours (we were very close to the High Comission) and I prepared for my rehearsal, which was to be heald that evening.
THE REHEARSAL
This event well deserves a section of its own. It makes me stressed even to write about it, but here goes:
I had been told that at 7pm a member of the local music society would meet me at the hotel with the pianist and a rehearsal venue. At 7:15 she had arrived, with the news that unfortunately the pianist was late and as her babysitter had cancelled she would be playing with her baby strapped to her back.
The baby was indeed strapped to her back - lashed on with a piece of cloth. The cranky baby, who needed breastfeeding twice and who ultimately ended the rehearsal because she wouldn't stop screaming. There was in fact a babysitter with her, who didn't do much to quite the baby, but who played the piano badly during the breastfeeding. The hotel refused to provied a room for the rehearsal. They wheeled the grand piano into the corridor, which was often filled by guests passing through to the parking lot. There was musak playing loudly through the speakers. Although we asked the manager to turn it down, we were informed that it was being piped all over the hotel and to turn it down would inconvenience the other hotel guests. (Poor other hotel guests - deprived of musak for an hour).
So we practised, or tried to. For two hours. The music society lady disappeared and te baby's screams bounced around the corridor, competing with the blaring muzak, and the voices of the other hotel guests and the 4 security guards who had gathered to listen. Also the pianist didn't speak English (she was from Japan), and apologised every time she hit a wrong note, which was about every three seconds. I was so patient. I need praise for not-pitching-a-fit!
After the wretched rehearsal (I don't think she understood a word I said about tempos or anything, and I forgot to mention that after breastfeeding the baby sat on the pianist's lap and banged the piano with her angry little fists...and I understand that it is extremely commendable to play ANYTING on the piano while juggling a fussy baby. HOWEVER.) we went for dinner, which was an undercooked pizza missing half of the toppings and hosting more than our gourmet-fest in Zim.
I didn't feel wonderful about leaving my sis at this horrible hotel, but the next morning I hopped the 6am shuttle back to the airport. I was going to Maputo, Mozambique!
As we had to wait for the driver, we hung around the baggage carrell until the next flight came in from Zim, and luckily our luggage was on it (some bags did not make that flight either and would arrive the next day). I was only staying in Lusaka (the main city in Zambia) until the next day, but sis was working there all week. We met the driver, who was, to our surprise, driving in a sort of convoy.
We were told that in December this driver had been attacked driving a diplomat and her family home from the airport, and although she and her child had managed to escape, the driver had been kidnapped and beaten, and left for dead. THIS driver, the man in our car! Wow. The way things work now is that there is a heavily-armed security vehicle on either side of the official car, and they accompany all of the drivers from the airport.
Sis and I weren't so sure what to think of all this - we had heard that Lusaka was relatively safe (especially compared to South Africa) and we were interested to see what we would find...
What we did find was an Interncontinental hotel that was less than adequete! What we found was a smoky room (when we had requested a non-smoky room) and when we decided to pay to be upgraded to a non-smoking room on a better floor, and opened the book of amenities, we found a cockroach, just LYING in wait for us. Not to be spoiled, but after Harare, this was a major shock. We decided to try to think positively, and sis went to work for a couple hours (we were very close to the High Comission) and I prepared for my rehearsal, which was to be heald that evening.
THE REHEARSAL
This event well deserves a section of its own. It makes me stressed even to write about it, but here goes:
I had been told that at 7pm a member of the local music society would meet me at the hotel with the pianist and a rehearsal venue. At 7:15 she had arrived, with the news that unfortunately the pianist was late and as her babysitter had cancelled she would be playing with her baby strapped to her back.
The baby was indeed strapped to her back - lashed on with a piece of cloth. The cranky baby, who needed breastfeeding twice and who ultimately ended the rehearsal because she wouldn't stop screaming. There was in fact a babysitter with her, who didn't do much to quite the baby, but who played the piano badly during the breastfeeding. The hotel refused to provied a room for the rehearsal. They wheeled the grand piano into the corridor, which was often filled by guests passing through to the parking lot. There was musak playing loudly through the speakers. Although we asked the manager to turn it down, we were informed that it was being piped all over the hotel and to turn it down would inconvenience the other hotel guests. (Poor other hotel guests - deprived of musak for an hour).
So we practised, or tried to. For two hours. The music society lady disappeared and te baby's screams bounced around the corridor, competing with the blaring muzak, and the voices of the other hotel guests and the 4 security guards who had gathered to listen. Also the pianist didn't speak English (she was from Japan), and apologised every time she hit a wrong note, which was about every three seconds. I was so patient. I need praise for not-pitching-a-fit!
After the wretched rehearsal (I don't think she understood a word I said about tempos or anything, and I forgot to mention that after breastfeeding the baby sat on the pianist's lap and banged the piano with her angry little fists...and I understand that it is extremely commendable to play ANYTING on the piano while juggling a fussy baby. HOWEVER.) we went for dinner, which was an undercooked pizza missing half of the toppings and hosting more than our gourmet-fest in Zim.
I didn't feel wonderful about leaving my sis at this horrible hotel, but the next morning I hopped the 6am shuttle back to the airport. I was going to Maputo, Mozambique!
posted by Melamondiale @ 10:23 PM
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