A month in...

I have about five minutes left to post something...sorry if it seems rushed, but I want to update everyone!

I am all moved into my homestay village. I live with another volunteer who I have become great friends with in such a short period. My homestay family is large and gracious. There are many smiling children who I am overwhelmed to see at night after long hours of language and technical training. I am learning kikaonde, which is the language that Zambians speak in Northwestern Province where I will be placed. I will be 25k away from the next volunteer, but I am happy that I am only 500 meters from a water source and only 1k from my school. I am so happy to be here. The Zambian people have been nothing but pleasant and seem to have an intense appreciation for life that I enjoy very much so. I hopefully will be able to post pictures in a month or so. I wish I had more time to describe my life here, but I have to catch a ride back to my village through Peace Corps.
I will quickly write a journal entry taken from Saturday, 2/27/2010:
I love Zambian thunderstorms. They calm the heat with their controlling bongo-like thuds. They creep slowly through the wide, African sky and unleash at the perfect time. The sounds of Nyanja singing and the bellowing laughs from local children are drowned out by the strike of a thunderstorm's wrath. The rain pitter patters on the straw roof of my mud hut here in Chishiko village. The soun is perfect motivation for studying KiKaonde. The rain hushes all other thoughts out of my mind, and I am able to rehearse my foreign phrases freely. And then...just when I am slumping into KiKaonde mindset, I am electrified by a strike of lightning only to remind me to stay on task with my new language.
Bamaama doesn't speak much English. She doesn't speak much KiKaonde either. But she sure laughs a lot and seeing her smiling face every morning is more language than I could ever ask for. Bamaama is the perfect representation of a generous Zambian. She wakes me up pleasantly in the morning with her warm laughter along with a boiling hot "bafa", bucket bath, awaiting upon my door stoop. I slowly awaken off my floor mattress and escape out of my mosquito net to the sounds of roosters and guinea fowls, and on the occasion, some Zambian hip hop music. Bamaama is always already on top of her daily tasks as I put on my bike helmet and rain jacket and begin to depart for my daily language lesson taught by Ba Golden. Bamaama's final ode of positivity before I leave, resonates with me throughout the day.