ChaChaCha Road

     The Old Man lowers himself onto the ground and places the hoe beside him. Above the sun shines, but below has shade and a moment of respite. Around his eyes lie the crisp wrinkles of a lifetime in the field. With his free hand, he scoops up some soil and slowly lets it loose. It is tired too. In front of him are rows and rows of rustling corn. They wave like peasants to their king. Beyond is the new fence, worth a decade of patient saving. And beyond that is Tubabi, a cluster of homes perched on a little hill surrounded by fruit trees. The Old Man has sat often in the shade of this tree, taking in this view, as far back as when he was a boy. Then, there were more fruit trees and less houses. Every year, more babies are born and the orchard must be cut to build a place for them to live. And then those babies have babies of their own. The trees could not keep up anymore. He scoops up another handful of soil and thought, neither can the land. He closes his eyes. A motor...

Every day, all around the world, people lift up cameras and phones to capture the setting sun. No matter how many times you've seen it, no matter if its the same sun, no matter if you'll never look at the photo again, most of us are compelled to try again and again to capture its magic.  Last Wednesday, looking out the window of a moving truck, I tried for the umpteenth time. And still, what picture can compare to the awe of the moment? Admittedly, this sunset was special to me. It was my first African one in nearly two years. Perhaps its the red dust in the air, or the glow of fading heat, or the scene that the sun sets itself into, but I'm always enchanted by them.  *** The road from Mfuwe to Chipata is mostly smooth sailing; you only need to dodge the odd pothole. Along the generous side strip, pedestrians, ox-drawn carts, and bicyclists mingle. We passed through villages that would have been at home in Senegal. In some, merchants spread out their wares upon the ground, ...