Posts Tagged With: prov house

097: COS Party

Chelsi threw herself down on to the couch of the back porch of the Prov house.  “Hey Thomas, Janelle. How are you two?” Though they sat in the shade, the mid afternoon sun heated up the air enough, so that without effort small bits of sweat beaded up on the foreheads.

“Where good,” Janelle piped up. “How are you? How’s your site?”

“Well, when I came back from medical last week, my house was flooded, and the back portion of my roof collapsed.”

“Oh no,” Thomas chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Have you talked to Paige yet? Something like that happened to her too.  Like her walls broke.  It’s crazy, have her show you the pictures.”

“How is it now? Is it still broken?” Janelle squeaked.

Chelsi sighed, “My house is always broken.  But my host family came a propped the roof up some with sticks.  When it started slumping again, I went back and got another one of my friends to get some more sticks to give it a little more support.  It seems okay now, it not leaking any more than normal. We’ll see how it is when I get back.” Needing a drink, Chelsi stood up an made her way through the side door and into the kitchen.

The kitchen was a buzz with people peeling potatoes and cutting, chopping, shredding coleslaw components.  “Hey Chelsi,” Chelsi’s friend Tyler set down his knife and opened his arms for a hug.

“Hi Tyler, how’s dinner going?”

“Good, good, everything is going alright. When did you get here?”

“Just now, I had a horrible time finding transport so I ended up just calling a taxi. I also thought, ‘maybe I just shouldn’t come.’ But I knew I’d regret missing my own Close of Service party.” Even though Chelsi wasn’t officially closing, or ending, her service for another 15 months, she still felt a kinship to the other fellows in her intake who were leaving, and didn’t want to miss out on the tradition.  “I guess I could have walked, but I really didn’t want to be too tired by the time I got here.” With that she reached up on the cupboard shelf for a cup.  The vast number of people at the house meant her choices were limited.  She decided on a large stainless steel mug.

“No way! You need that energy for the mud pit later!” It was Oliver’s voice, coming up from behind.

“Oh my goodness, you guys really want ME to get in the mud pit? And do what?”

“We’re going to wrestle!” Oliver, cheerful as ever. Tyler laughed.

“Alright, we’ll see.”  Chelsi twisted the spout of a wine box on the counter and filled her cup.


The hot day slipped in to cool night.  All the while empty cups were refilled, and bellies were stuffed with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and coleslaw.  Chelsi was relaxing on the front porch with a few of the volunteers from the newest intake, when a ruckus of sounds drifted through the house from the backyard and into her ears.

“What’s that? What in the world are they doing back there?”

“I think that was Maddy defeating Oliver in the mud pit,” Victoria chucked. Chelsi had almost complete forgot about the mud pit. “I think that means I’m next, but I definitely don’t want to wrestle Maddy.” Victoria quickly downed the rest of her drink and stood up.  Curious, Chelsi followed suit.

“Are you going to get in the mud pit, Chelsi?” Jordan asked, remaining cross legged on the floor.

“I don’t know, will go down there, check it out.” Arm in arm Chelsi and Victoria made their way across the front porch, through the house and out in the backyard.  All the while whispering about potential wrestling mates.

In the poorly lit yard only about half of the people could be seen.  The others, covered head to toe in mud were catalogued against the night.

“Victoria, I think your next!” Tyler announced, being the first to notice the two women’s arrival.

“Okay, but I’m only going to go in if Chelsi goes in with me.”

“Fine, I’ve been convinced.” Chelsi smiled.

The two women removed nearly everything. Shirts, shoes, socks, skirts, watches, earing, so that when they were ready they had on nothing but their underclothes.  Holding each other’s hand for support, the two stepped into the pit together.  Chelsi hadn’t anticipated just how slippery it would be.

“Okay, rules,” Tyler announced. “Everything goes, but to win you need to pin both of your opponent’s shoulders for at least three seconds.”

Chelsi, not really sure what she was getting herself into, instinctively crouched down.  Her friend Victory was tall and narrow, so maybe if I get her below her center of gravity?

“On my mark,” Chelsi was aware of the small group that began to gather more closely around. “GO!”

It was harder than Chelsi imagined it would be. The mud was slick and any time either woman made an attempt to grab the other, the other would just slip away. They laughed and squealed some but had to remain mindful in order to keep mud from filling their mouths. It was difficult to say just how long they fumbled around in the pit for, but the two grew tired quickly, And Chelsi, having finally gotten a secure reach around the back of Victoria’s knees, was able to knock her off her feet and on to her bum. Chelsi was surprised by the strength of Victoria’s upper body, when she tried to push her back into the mud.  Chelsi nearly lost her advantage more than once, until Victoria’s arms tired, while Chelsi’s weight didn’t, and Victoria’s back and shoulders slid into the mud.

“ONE, TWO, THREE,” Tyler’s voice rang, and the crowd cheered.

Chelsi stood up, extending a hand to help Victoria, who took it with a smile. “You’re right, that was kind of fun. Thank you.”

“Yeah! Wow you’re good,” Victoria laughed.

The two friends carefully picked their way out of the pit, the crowd backing away to give them a wide berth.

“Alright, who’s next?!”

Categories: Action, Health & Fitness, Thriller | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

087: A New Year

​Chelsi sunk back onto the dingy green media room couch next to her friend Tyler.  He was leaned forward though, fidgeting with something on the brown wicker coffee table.  

“So how’d it go? How was Zanzibar?” Tyler asked. 

“You mean, beside perfect in every way?” Chelsi voice was long and tired, but Tyler laughed.

“That good, huh? I mean, I heard about the train ride.”

“Oh, yeah, that god damn train! It nearly killed me, like seriously, we almost died.” Chelsi was sincere in the fieriness of her tone.  “Jason came the closest though.  The train car that derailed was the dining car.  Which was also of course the car smack dab in the middle of the train. Then after 18 hours of playing ‘how are you going to fix the train’ they ultimately decided that the dining car had to be left behind. So the only things we had to eat, was whatever we could buy through the window at short station stops… And, and there was no drinking water.”

“Yeah, it was not like that when Jason and I took it last time.”

“That’s what he kept saying. But you know what? I think it worked out for the better.  Because if the train hadn’t been delayed we would have gotten in to town yesterday, instead of today and because I only had one house day left this month, I wouldn’t have been able to stay for New Year’s. I would have been sitting alone in my house like last year.” She paused for a moment, remembering sitting in her now broken easy chair, staring at the clock on her phone; watching the minutes tick by – 23:50, 23:51, 23:52, 23:53, 23:54, 23:55, 23:56, 23:57, 23:58, 23:59, 00:00, 00:01, 00:02, 00:03, 00:04, 00:05, 00:06, 00:07, 00:08, 00:09, 00:10. Then she went to bed.  She couldn’t even recall if she had open a fancy bottle of wine.  “It’s much better this way.”

“Speaking of,” Tyler straightened himself and stood up. “It’s nearly midnight, and we’ve got fireworks to shoot off!” He looked down at her with a smile and started towards the door.  “Are you coming?” he pulled open the door and music filled the room.

“I’m right behind you,” She called after him looking at her watch; 23:56.  2017 huh? Chelsi thought to herself. 2007 feels like just the other week… But at 16 could I have really imagined myself here? She looked around the dimly lit room. The walls were concealed by floor to ceiling shelves of DVDs, VHSs, books and an assortment of other media materials.  Chelsi wasn’t even sure what color the walls actually were.  Nnn…, mmm well maybe…
She pulled herself up off the couch and walked into the common room. The house speakers, one stacked on top of the other, were bumpin’ the hottest beats from the club.  DJ Neal was squatting at the computer just beside them, finishing up the que for the next 30 songs.  Ireri and Sid, two volunteers from the newest intake were getting down on the dance floor together. Jason on the other hand was up on the dining table, twerking it with everything he had: “Neal! Neal!” he cried, “We need the Thong Song! Play the Thong Song!”

“No! Jtrain! We’re not playing the Thong Song.” Neal looked over his shoulder at him, “and you’re going to break the table if you keep doing that.”

“Alright everyone, if you want to see fireworks, come outside now!” Tyler screamed through doorway to the back porch. And with that, the music was tamed and the whole party filed outside.   

They stood on the steps of the porch watching intently the little cardboard boxes lined up in front of them in the grass.  “I know that one,” Sami whispered to Chelsi. “It’s the most dangerous one, because if they don’t fire at the same time then the whole thing will come shooting sideways across the ground and explode.” She voice crescendo-ed into glee, “and you don’t know where it’s going to go!”

“Please be careful Tyler!” Ireri called from the porch.

“Its fine,” and one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, little boxes filled with colorful explosives were lit, and Tyler took a few steps back.  

 With a loud bang, the first rocket shot off and a white flash filled the air.  Another bang, and green and red stars were propelled through the night sky.  And, “Bump, bump, bump,”

“Jtrain!” Neal shouted, “No one wants to hear the Thong Song!”

Categories: Current Events, DIY, Science & Technology | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

081: Albert the Turkey

​“Just let me do it this year,” Chelsi had responded to Hannah and Sami’s email about preparing for Thanksgiving 2016.  “I just need you to make sure that the turkey arrives on Monday, alive and well.  DO NOT let them put it under the bus!”  What Chelsi had realized was that she just needed to make her instructions simple and clear. She was taking it upon herself to organize the meat course for this year, and rightly so, she thought, remembering last year’s ‘meat leader’ Paul, who had taken on the position out of some poorly placed sense of manly duty.  

“The entire time we were cutting up the pig last year he kept complaining that he was about to vomit.” Chelsi tried to explain to anyone who would listen.  

“So then what else do you need?” Hannah and Sami had responded after accepting her bid for the position.  

“Charcoal… Just charcoal. I’ll talk to Neal about what else he needs for the pig.” Slightly against her better judgement, Chelsi had delegated the task of cooking the pig to her nearest neighbor Neal.  She had been swayed by his genuine passion for the project and her confidence in her ability manage and rectify his inevitable failure. 

“He wants to put the pig in a pit, doesn’t he?” 


“Do you think that’s a good idea? Do you think it’ll work?”

“He’s very confident it’ll work, I think there’s about a fifty-fifty chance.  But this year I can guarantee that the turkey will be good and next year Neal will likely be the one leading the meat, so it’s better that he gets all of his wackiest ideas out of him now.”

When the day before Thanksgiving came, all preparations commenced.  A proverbial grave was dug, a funeral pyre lit inside and when the sun began to sink low on the horizon the pig, wrapped lovingly in banana leaves and chicken wire was buried in the pit. At that time, Chelsi could have sworn that she had seen a matching graving spring up just beside, all of your hopes and dreams, the headstone had read.  But Chelsi had walked away with confidence in her own project; dressing the turkey, Thanksgiving’s real star, she thought to herself. 

With some patience and agility the bird, who had been free to roam the expansive yard of the provincial office it’s last few days of life, was caught.  Though a larger crowd than Chelsi had expected showed up to watch the bird bleed out, it died well with little commotion. “Which is what you want,” she had instructed her friend and assistant Oliver.  “Next we’ll dip it in the water I’ve been heating on the brazier and we’ll feather it.”

The cleaning and cutting went smoothly, and nine plump piece of meat where dropped into brine and stored in the fridge till the next morning.  
“What time to you think we should unbury the pig?” Neal asked Chelsi Thanksgiving morning around the breakfast table.

Chelsi shrugged, “What’s your confidence level like that it’s finished?”

Neal paused for a moment in quiet reflection, “97%. I am 97% sure that in like an hour it will be perfectly done.”

“Alright then, I’ll meat you out there with a shovel.” Chelsi laughed, “get it? I’ll MEAT you out there?”

Chelsi passed the next hour rinsing, drying and rubbing her bird with barbeque spices and setting the fire on the brazier.  And when the time came she meandered out to the front yard.  

Neal and Oliver where on their hands and knees brushing aside the dirt over the pig.  “It doesn’t really feel warm…” Neal said with a strong strain of concern in his voice.  When the pig was finally uncovered and hoisted out the outlook was not promising.

“This, this little spot here is the only part that cooked.” Neal said, deflated but with rising inflections of worrying and haste in his voice.  

“So what do you want to do now?” Chelsi ask, feeling genuinely sorry that the scheme hadn’t been successful.  

“I don’t know… I don’t know, do you think it’s still safe to eat?”

Chelsi looked it over; it smells, but not unlike any piece of meat, the color’s fine, the flesh still has integrity. “I think its fine.  I got the grill going. Why don’t we just put it up there, cover it and see what happens.”

When Chelsi looked up, she could see Neal’s face covered in full blown panic.  A thousand reasons of doubt exploded from his mouth.  

“Since there is not much more we can do,” Chelsi tried to retain all of her cool, calm and collectedness, “let’s put on the grill and see what happens.”

With the effort Chelsi, Neal and Oliver managed to situate the pig on the grill and Chelsi was able to return her focus to the turkey.

For the last time, she removed the piece from the refrigerator, rinsed them then patted them dry.  She placed a grate over her fire and laid out the pieces as far from the fire as she could.  She checked her watch, about 4 hours till dinner, perfect.   

With the remaining time Chelsi bathed and dressed, and periodically turned her pieces on the fire.  She enjoyed the parade of fanciful dishes passing by; green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, cranberry sauce, freshly baked diner rolls, pies, cakes, cookies. Everything one would expect for a Thanksgiving feast.  

“And how’s the pig coming?” Chelsi asked Neal as the dinner hour approached. 

“I think it’s going to be okay.  It looks good, it smells fine.” And Chelsi couldn’t help but notice that the color in Neal’s face was looking better as well.  “Oliver and I are going to take it off the grill and remove all of the edible pieces.”

“Great, I think the turkey is done too.  I’m going to grab someone to help me pull it apart and plate it.”

After removing it from the brazier and setting it to rest, the meat pulled away perfectly from the bones of the bird. 

“Oh my goodness,” Chelsi’s friend Allison cried, “this has to be one of the best turkey’s I’ve ever tasted.”

“Thank you!” Chelsi said blushing.  
When the dinner table was complete, all the volunteers gathered around and shared what they were thankful for.  For Chelsi, it was finding family so far away from home.  

Categories: Adventure, DIY, Drama, Food & Recipes, Horror, Nature | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

044: PCVL

Chelsi stared at the Shoprite shelf in the open refrigerator.  “All I really want to eat is cheese,” she thought aloud.  But there was none that she could afford.  30 kwatcha for an ounce of cheddar … No. 24 kwatcha for ten individually wrapped slices … Double no.  She wandered away from the refrigerator section. Maybe they’ll have the big bags of fake Cheetos, she thought. 
It was pushing close to 5pm, she had left her house at noon.  When she offered to take the position as Acting Peace Corps Volunteer Leader for the rest of the week she had double checked that it was alright that she arrive later in the afternoon, but she never anticipated it taking her five hours to get to town.   Her feet dragged through the crowded isles, the extra mass from her backpack not doing her any favors. 
“Chelsi! Chelsi!” She took her eyes briefly off the shelf of snacks. “There you are.” It was Chad. Close in tow was Mike and Aubrey. A whole Mufumbwe gang.  Chelsi spirit picked up a bit.
“Hey, guys,” but her mind was still focused on cheese flavored snacks.  Chad and Mike pushed their way through the crowd towards her.  Aubrey continued perusing the shelf of cookies. 
“We’ve been trying to call you all day,” the urgency in his voice was settling in to relief. 
“Yeah, my phone only works when it’s plugged in. Sorry.” She paused to think, hopefully the status of her phone: broken, would not conflict with her official duties of minding the volunteers. “Why did something happen?”
“Well, it’s just that Ephriam left yesterday morning and we were expecting you then. We thought maybe something happened to you.”
Chelsi sighed and shook her head, “I swear the posting for the opening was from the 25th to the 27th, and I told Ephriam I wouldn’t be coming in till this afternoon. He said it was fine. Sorry you all were left to worry.”  Go figure. “He didn’t leave any instructions, you know about house schedule, generator rules, house goods, duty phone, did he?”
“No he just left,” Chad’s relief was now calm.  He clutched a Shoprite basket in one hand and played with his beard with the other. 
“Great, cause he didn’t tell me anything.” Chelsi shrugged, too tired to care, there’s always plausible deniability if something happens.
“We’re going to make a Greek pizza, with olives, and tomatoes, and some reasonably priced feta, if you want in.” Mike chimed in sensing the weariness in her response.
“That would be great. Cause I was just going to eat cookies and NikNaks. Who else is at the house?”
“No one, it’s just the three of us.”
“I’m still going to eat this bag of NikNaks.”
“Even me,” Chad chuckled grab a bag off the self for himself. 

Categories: Adventure, Drama, Mystery | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

008: Chengola Road

“Daisy, NO!” Chelsi cried as her puppy jumped from the chitenge sling tied around the handle bars of her bike to the ground.  Chelsi stopped the bike just as Daisy moved out from under the tire.  She struggled to find her footing on the ground; her legs were weak and the bike seat was just a touch to tall. “Daisy, come here. Get, GET over here,” she reached for the wiggling puppy.  She could not blame her for wanting to be back on the ground, it had been a long day for her cramped up in the bicycle. 
Chelsi scooped up her puppy while balancing the bike on her hip. She surveyed her surroundings; they were stopped on the shoulder of the Chengola Road, a road notorious for its heavy use by mining traffic and terrible condition.  There were some tall trees just 15 feet behind her, but no houses and no people. Two were cars coming just over the hill in her direction.  This was supposed to be simple, she thought to herself. 
The plan itself had been simple:
Where Chelsi stayed in Kamijiji she was about 24 kilometers from the provincial capital Solwezi. The trip to town took her through all of the villages familiar to her, over the dam that made Mitukutuku Lake, through maize fields perched high on a hill before dropping sharply into a valley, where on the other side of the stream she would bike back up a hill, just as steep, surrounded by village houses and tiny shops.  After climbing a little further she would reach the tarmac that would take her the rest of the way to town.  All in all the trip would take about two hours. 
From there she would head to the Peace Corps transit house, or Prov house to get assistance fixing up her bike and get directions to the ministry of agriculture and livestock office so she could visit the district veterinarian.
“Perfect!” she told her friend Sara, a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer, just a few days before on the phone. “I have to go to town anyway to have Daisy vaccinated, and Kabisapi is what? Just another 30k down the road towards Chengola? Instead of turning back and coming home we can continue on to your house! Help you settle in and check out your site for a day or two.” Chelsi was anxious to see her friend again and see the house she had heard so much about.  Apparently the villagers had been so dissatisfied with the previous volunteer’s work that just after he left they came and stole the porch he had built.
And so, that morning came; Chelsi was a little nervous to be spending the night away from her site but she felt significantly better about it knowing her puppy would not be left behind.  She started out early, or at least early to her, about 7:30. She packed a small bag, which was strapped to the bike rack and her Daisy who was tied up in the front.
Most of the ride was uneventful, till she came up closer to town.  Weaving her bike through the throngs of people she was quite the special sight, a white woman with a shiny white bike helmet strapped to her head toting a lumpy looking parcel, and what’s that?
Ah! Bajina kakabwa!” came the excited cries when people realized it was a dog she was carrying. 
She turned out of the villages and on to the tarmac just west of what the other volunteers referred to as ‘the dirty market.’ This affectionately bestowed name did not reference the merchandise or the rioting that occasional breaks out in the square but, as her Peace Corps Volunteer Leader (PCVL) put it once “You’re allowed to go there, it’s just dirty. Like you think your feet and legs are getting tan, then you take a proper shower and you’re like, ‘oh…’”
Really all of Solwezi was like this, however it was as if the dust blowing across the rest of town was all collecting here. She was focused though, passing the streams of sludge and piles of garbage without a second glance. There was no room not to be totally focused, and so close to her destination. One slip up and if she was lucky she would only collide with a group of loiterers, maybe a parked car, an unnoticed misjudgment by an eighteen-wheeler and it would be the end of her time as a Peace Corps Volunteer, and probably her life. Biking through all of Solwezi demanded this type of undivided attention. So she was relieved when the Shoperite, a South Africa in grocery store, and her turn off towards the Provo house came into view.
The house was quiet and though she had announced her coming a few days before she was nervous because she knew the dog really was not supposed to be there, but would only be for a few minutes, she justified to herself.  She positioned her bike up on the stand and located Ephraim, a permanent resident of the house, where upon having a second set of eyes look at it she was led to the realization that she had been turning the rear derailed adjustment screws the wrong ways.  “Oh and you can find the vet’s office here.” He gave a brief description before continuing on with his other work.
The doctor was friendly and Daisy was a really trooper and the only hang up was that her last vaccine would not be ready till 2 or 2:30 that afternoon. “Do you have any business in town that can keep you busy until then?” it was coming up on noon now.  So they went back to the Prov house.
To her great delight her friend Dick had arrived at the house and even better she was beginning to prepare a lunch that she would ultimately share with Chelsi.  “And Oh My! Look how Daisy’s grown!” She was twice the size as when Dick dropped her off three weeks ago. 
Chelsi passed the time tinkering with her bike and chatting with a few other volunteers that trickled in over the course of the afternoon.  It was just before 2 when she disclosed her plan to bike to Kabisapi.  “Why don’t you just hitch?” Ephraim offered with a tone of bewilderment.
“Well, I have the dog and the bike, and I can bike.  Biked here, it’s just another 30K.”
“But it’s a puppy, and there plenty of trucks, and you’re white and female. You’ll get picked up.” Chelsi was only partially concerned that her added baggage would prevent her from getting picked up. It was more that she was just afraid of hitchhiking.  She had hitched since arriving in Zambia and even a little in the States, but never by herself and never to a place she’d never been to before.
“I just want to ride the bike,” she insisted.
Chelsi and Daisy breezed through the vet’s office on their way east. It was 2:30, she texted Sarah saying that if they had not arrived before 5 something was wrong, and so they started down Chengola Road.  This road had a reputation and not for being a smooth graceful ride but for being both the most heavily traveled and most poorly maintained road in all of Zambia and Chelsi was about to experience it up close.  It was heavily used by mining trucks, ferrying copper and equipment between mines reaching north into Northwest Provence and Kitwe, a prominent mining town in Copperbelt Provence.  The road was also frequented by the mine managers in their fancy SUVs and private contractors usually in pick-up trucks. Then there was Chelsi, apparently the only one crazy enough to transverse this road without the protection metal doors, closed windows and a suspension system. 
The dust was worse than ‘the dirty market’ and every time a truck went by she became trapped in a cloud of dust. The tiny particles created a film on her eyes, filled her nostrils and if she pressed her teeth together there was a crunch… It did not take long before she decided that she would never bike to Sara’s again, but for today she continued on. 
She looked at her watch, “Just another 45 minutes,” she relayed to Daisy, who was beginning to stir in her sling.  Though she said it with encouragement her heart was full of doubt.  She was biking slower then she had that morning and was sure they were more than 45 minute away still. She turned her head to look back towards the sun, but we should still have enough light, at least two more hours. Maybe two and a half.
The traveling was slower not just because the clouds of dust, which forced her to slow out of fear she might drift in to the lane of traffic, or that the afternoon sun was more punishing, but that Kapisapi was turning out to be perched atop a mountain.  There had been no slopes on which to coast down, despite the punishing uphill climb. After another hour of biking she began to worry that she a ridden past it, that she had been so focused on maintaining her forward momentum she had not seen the market her friend had told her to watch for. She was afraid to turn around though and go back because every rotation of her bicycle wheel down would be one she would have to make back up if she was wrong and more importantly the sun was starting to hang very low in the sky. There’s no time for second guessing yourself.  She pressed on, hoping that this market would be just around the next bend, or up the next hill.
Exactly how much time had passed is unknown, but the shadow of her on the bike was long and began to disappear into the shadows of the trees ahead. The bike was slowing to a crawl, maybe I’ll just get out and push for a while, that might be easier.
“Daisy, NO!” her puppy wiggled free of her sling and jumped to the ground.  Chelsi nearly fell on top of her trying to stop and dismount the bike.  She sigh once she knew the dog was safe from getting in the way oncoming traffic. Shoot, now what?
She was tired, she looked around. ”you’re white and female. You’ll get picked up.” Echoed in her ears. She saw the two cars coming in her direction.  What are you going to do? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?
With just a moment left before they were past her she stuck out her arm, shook her hand in the proper up and down fashion and closed her eyes preparing for the oncoming cloud of dust.
To her surprise when she open them a pickup truck was pulled over onto the shoulder just ahead and an Indian man was stepping out.
“Is your bike broken?” he called out as she started towards him. 
“Yea,” a half-truth but she was not recovered enough to tell the whole story.  He helped her lift it in to the bed on the truck. “She’s vaccinated,” she said picking her puppy back up. He chuckled a little, clearly she was not a threat. 
“Where do you need to go?” he got back behind the wheel and unlocked the passenger door.
“I need to go to Kabisapi. It can’t be too much farther up the road.” She climbed onto the seat.
“I don’t know where that is, but I’m going to Ndola.”
“It’s definitely before Ndola.” He turned the truck back on and signaled to get back on to the road.  Chelsi took out her phone and texted Sara an update on her situation.
“I’ll be there soon. Look for me on the road in a white pickup.”

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