Mixing it

One of the most interesting things about being here is hanging out with people from wildly different places. On Saturday morning I was cooking nut roast with my Brazilian hostess and the Zambian woman who cooks for the family. Also there, cooking excellent vegetable biryani, was my South African Indian colleague.

I've just had a meeting with an upfront yet charming Dutchman, who said 'what advice can I offer you about working on HIV/Aids in Zambia? Stay out of it!' I've met angry Canadians, cynical Irish people and, well, American Americans, and learnt a bit about working with Zambians themselves, who are generally very polite and reserved until they've worked out where you're coming from.

I've also been exposed to some diverse cultural influences: there's a lot of Southe American music playing in the house where I'm staying, we get African news in the car on the way to work, which is full of part tragic part hilarious announcements about various bonkers regimes, and last night we went to see Read My Lips, a French film showing as part of Lusaka's international film festival.

Despite all that, today I've got a song running through my head and I can't get it out. This is annoying in itself, but what's doubly annoying is that the song is Peaches' F**k the Pain Away. Which is hardly appropriate, when you think about it.