.. I am here to make flannel or combing the dolls or remove stains the leopards which is already more on the subject. No, because the descriptions of games on my breakfast with the Indians (a About! Somebody up there and was very attentive to your prayers: we have gone avocado milkshake, bananas with kiwi and mint leaves, a slippery even more digestible porridge) may induce thoughts like, is there on vacation . Actually I'm working hard on two projects: the first, as many of you know, is the realization of Graziella's garden. The second is a work with the staff of Olga's face organizational identification and allocation of responsibilities.
This obviously would have the desired , that one goes to the office (my desk in the photo) in the morning, opens his laptop, listen to the little music to Windows and start up Internet Spippola looking for flooring for the garden, picnic tables, outdoor lighting, swings, sandbox and all that comes to mind about how to create an outdoor space. Or, still sitting at the computer, you squeeze your brain to make memories resurface of a job, the organization of the psychologist, who had been buried by tons of muffins with carrots and tomatoes stewed in a certain branch of the socket of Venice. Well, it is not, or rather, not exactly. Not only because of technical problems: it interrupts the supply of light or the Zamnet (the local telecom) greets and thanks and you're there like a cuckoo clock waiting for you reconnect. It also happens that Brandina arrives announcing the senior cook, with the placidity of the Zambians that there are more chickens and a table has ordered four portions. Then close all go to Shoprite in front to take the chickens. Or get Sister Frances, a nun who speaks Irish narrow, fast e. .. abundant that as soon as you know I'm a psychologist ensnare me: is pursuing a project of the Japanese cooperation to build a kindergarten in the compound poorest Livingstone and a psychologist would be useful to give a hand to teachers. What are you doing? You say no? Not me. Saturday evening, around 7.30 Joseph and I were working in the office when 18 people arrived at the restaurant that was really enough pudsy. I see that Joseph, like an eel closes everything, takes off his shirt, puts on the black T-shirt with the logo of Olga's and jumps to make pizzas. I followed suit and attack in the kitchen with fresh salads and an endless mountain of dishes to wash and dry.
Other than ER! Of course, I also concede recreational breaks like this morning with Mishongo (you can learn at home version of the picture) to the Maramba market a market that most African so you die. One Musungu (pale) followed the swaying belly of the stalls in the crevices, inside the various shops with the tin roof, listening without understanding a damn The talk in "Bemba" in "Tonga", in "losi", in "nianja. Are presented to all those who Mishongo know (but I would say that virtually all) as "law", that is a relative experience, aunie of Joseph (you know that he is spinning on a chicken BBQ at home). 
It 'a show to attend the ceremonial meeting: one by the hand holding the left hand at the elbow, the handshake is complicated, three-step and I always mistake the succession, if a person is older and you are a woman there bows. As you can imagine I do not ever bow in return I have throngs of women who bow: it will be an advantage? At the end of the day I bought: three Pescioni fresh directly from the Zambezi (the next episode will tell you what they know), 6 bowls of tin with enamelled floral motifs (typical African it is since I was in Madagascar that I wanted) 8 chitenge (which we are called pareos, here are the traditional clothes of women) that when I need to cover sofas and chairs in my house (too much indian! I'm in Africa) and that you will end up on my return as gifts : great for tablecloths, 18 lollipop (lollipop) for boys in the kitchen and love it. I spent a total of € 15. Contento Michele Uras?
the Maramba market I could not photograph anything because they do not like. And I understand them: how many times I damn the Japanese photograph me while I pulled up the Venetian bridges my overflowing shopping carts! The goal can be troublesome ethologist curious.
We do however know a bit 'of Livingstone: The Dylan's Supermarket, where you can not find the oregano to flavor the tomato sauce and some shops in the Main Road. 
Fish and peace. 
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