A rare treat

One of the things that attracted me to Zambia in October was the conditions. No electricity. No running water. Sleeping on concrete floors. Pit latrines.
I was curious how I'd do, because I'm kind of a wuss.

As it turns out, I was fine. Once you decide you're going to be okay, you are.
What I hadn't anticipated was the loveliness out there, the sense of being a part of something, of both remoteness and closeness.
Of the innate wildness of our planet.
Of the fraternity it's possible to find with near-strangers.

Kids from the village hung out with us by the campfire some nights. After most everyone had drifted off to bed, three in particular stuck around, singing in Losi and Bemba and English, drumming, dancing. It is a privilege to know such beautiful, open young spirits.

These are the three. Click here to listen.