Sundays in Zambia

Today we're taking a break from pictures of the gorgeous country and people. I know, I know – why? I promise – there will be some more next week. But this week I want to talk about some of the documents I required to live in Zambia – besides the obvious passport and work permit.

First of all, I had to have an Aliens Registration Card. At the time I not ever heard of a non-citizen of a country being referred to as an alien so I thought that was hilarious. I was an alien. Heh.

 Before I came to Zambia I was issued an International Driving Permit.

However, not too long after arriving I had to apply for a Zambian driver's license. Boy that was a process! Forms and going to multiple offices, and then at the end, an oral exam along with the other missionaries who were applying for a license. I was asked what emotions might cause a person to drive carelessly. I said rage or anger or sadness. Nope, none of those was the right answer. The right answer was joy! The examiner said that a very happy person doesn't pay attention to the road. At the time I thought that was a very funny answer, but later I learned better. My only speeding ticket was a few weeks before my wedding 19 years ago. I was barreling down the road singing to Amy Grant at the top of my lungs. I was going 82 mph. In a 55 zone (it had just changed from 65, but still!). Thankfully I didn't lose my license. Anyway, I managed to pass the driving exam & received my Zambian license!

A couple of other ladies and I decided to get memberships to the Intercontinental Hotel pool. We decided to say that we were a family so that it would be cheaper. Yes, I see the irony that two missionaries and a teacher at the American Embassy School (whose name was also Dana!) were cheating. I even feel somewhat ashamed about it now. In any case, we got our membership. I always laugh when I see the name – Mr. & Mrs. Damawallace. My name was Dana Wallace. Apparently I was taking the fall in this caper.

The last document is my membership card to the Bulldog Den at the local marine base (? I have no idea what it was called – these were the marines assigned to the embassy). We would go to watch movies, eat popcorn and flirt with marines. I saw The Princess Bride there for the first time – one of my favorite movies of all time (next to Joe vs. the Volcano). And I got a date to the Marine Ball with one of the marines from Michigan. We also played softball with the marines (I use the word "play" loosely – I am no athlete). One of the guys was from eastern NC and I loved hearing that voice from home. His accent was so thick that the other marines couldn't understand him over the radio. Made me homesick, a bit.

Come back next week when I talk about my attempt to teach cross-stitch at the Women's Missionary Union conference. Not a pretty picture!