How to refresh hope

On Sunday, two trains (a passenger train and a cargo train) crashed head on about 30km from our lion lodge. It is estimated that 89 people are dead. Five rail cars burned and it took them 8 hours to put out the flames.

Another volunteer (Kathryn-from Seattle) and I went to the hospital with two of our managers to offer any help they might need. Upon arrival at the hospital, we were met with a sea of hundreds of family members waiting outside the gate to see if their loved ones were okay.

The hospital was complete and utter chaos, but with an underlying type of organization that it seems would only work in an African hospital. Soon after our arrival, a helicopter came in. We rushed out with gurneys and wheelchairs and I helped a man with an injured leg out of the chopper and then pushed him into the hospital. Next came people in ambulances and again with the wheelchair, this time to help a gentleman with broken ribs, named Luciano. It was frenzied work.

When the second chopper came in, I grabbed a blanket and again rushed to the scene. It wasn't until I was within about 10 feet of the helicopter that I heard someone say "they are bodies". I was absolutely crestfallen. The hope that had ballooned as we all ran towards the chopper, seeped out of me. I put my, now useless, blanket over one of the bodies and went back to the hospital.

For the remainder of the day, we helped by giving food and water to everyone in the hospital. We started with the crash victims, then moved on to the regular wards. There were two women in the female ward who will stay with me for the rest of my life. We didn't speak at all, but there was so much strength coming from the eyes of their emaciated frames that I couldn't help but be awed.

Our last stop with the food was the maternity ward and we were able to go into the premature room where a baby girl the size of my hand was sleeping in her mother's arms. She didn't have to hang out in an impersonal incubator, just in a very warm room with her mom. It was beautiful. The mother asked us to think of a name for her and we came up with Precious. And when Precious woke up and opened her eyes, it seemed all the tragedy of the day had been washed away and hope was back.

Love you all,

Jen

How to fight a raging bushfire

First, get a stick.

Now, I know this may seem rather counter- intuitive, given that wood is actually fuel for fire. And I'm not gonna lie to ya...I was thinking exactly the same thing as I ran at the fire armed with my stick.

Next, name your stick.

I chose the name Bram for mine (as in Stoker-again maybe a little ironic given that I wanted to put the fire out and not stoke it, but it was MY stick) , but anything you choose will be fine (it is only essential that you name your stick, otherwise it will not help you!).

Next, beat the fire as hard as you can with your newly named stick.

Last, run like hell...especially when the flames get to be twice as high as you!

Repeat as needed.

So, we were having a regular day on Saturday at the Lion Encounter when we got a call that flames were nearing out lodge. Our Duty Guide, Nathan, piled three volunteers (me, Nicola-from England, and Zowi-from the Netherlands) and four Zimbabwean staff members in the van to go scope it out. We were armed only with two litres of water and an axe. I figured we were just going to check it out (for evacuation purposes) and then call in the fire brigade! How wrong was I?! Nathan said we would fight it if it wasn't too big and I found myself feeling that an axe and what amounted to a small puddle of water might not be entirely effective. Then the lad busted out with the idea of using sticks...

Confused but undaunted, I charged into the bush after Nathan (who used his axe to cut me a nice leafy Bram), ran full-tilt towards the flames, and proceeded to whack the crap out of everything on fire. I even perfected a wonderful slap-shot technique to douse the fire (keeping close to my Edmonton roots!). I was so charged with adrenalin that it was a least an hour until I noticed that my hands were bleeding. Frickin' amazing!!!

The fire brigade never did show up and in the end about 40 locals and us three foreigners (armed with Bram, Sam, and Danny) defeated the beast!!! I know I used the word exhilarating to describe my experience with Phoenix, but it doesn't get much more exhilarating than fighting a fire with a stick.

I hope this finds everyone well! Thank you very much to those of you who replied to me, as I love to hear from you. Sorry these e-mails are so few and far between but be assured that I am thinking of you and miss you all!

For those keeping track, I received my first bite from a lion on Sunday. It was from our 5 month old Amanzi who is so cute you forget he is a wild beast, but he did his best to remind me! Thankfully I was wearing a sweater, so he didn't break the skin, but I have a nice bruise on my right bicep.

Last night I went out for dinner and ate some warthog, crocodile and a disgusting, black, size of my index finger mopane worm (Survivor, here I come!). I went on a game-drive to Botswanna today (Tuesday) and got to see zebras, giraffes, warthogs, elephants, hippos, impalas and anything else you might remember from The Lion King! Life is good!

J

How to approach a lion...

I have finally made it to Zimbabwe, and (more import-
antly) I have finally found a relatively fast internet connection (it has taken me about 30 minutes just to log on!). Welcome to Africa, Jen!!!

I have just completed my third day as a volunteer with the lions and I often catch myself realising what I am actually doing. Everything is incredibly surreal. The landscape looks like a painting, with powder blue, cloudless skies (not to mention the punishing sun-in the winter, no-less), and the grass is that really long, hay-coloured stuff that looks like goldilocks!

I received my first and highly impressive scratch on my first day (from a 3-month old pride-of-the-Pride in the making, named Langa). No, no, lions are not, in fact, just really big cats! They are actually just razor sharp teeth and claws in a bed of fur, even the 'wee' 3 monthers! And it turns out that it is not a good idea to put your face on their belly (even if you really want to!). :)

Also on my first day, I was taught the proper method of approaching a, nearly full-grown and fully capable of disemboweling you in one swipe of their paw, lion. The head guide at our park, Ian, took me up to see our oldest cubs (the 18 monthers) and I will admit that the fear meter was pretty low-they are just cats after all, aren't they? Ian then proceeded to explain that one swipe of the paw was equivalent to 1 tonne of pressure. Uh-huh...fear meter starting to register. He explains that I must establish dominance by disciplining the lions with a whack across the mouth if they try to bite me, scratch me, or even look at me the wrong way. And I'm thinking...isn't that gonna just piss him off even more? He tells me to kneel down near the shoulder blade of our biggest cub (if you can call this ginormous razor with fur a cub!). The cub's name is Phoenix, but he is also known as Mr. Grumpy. Okay, fear meter through the roof, here people! And it is at this point that Ian reminds me that they can sense fear (yeah, too late, Buddy!). So, I kneel down and start to pat Grumpy Pants on his back. He starts to wag his tail (which, if you're familiar with cats, is not a good thing). Ian tells me to continue petting. Alrighty, then! Grumpy Pants starts to growl! Continue? Okey dokey...I don't really need my right arm, do I? Grumpy Pants turns and snarls and at that point my heart is just pounding in my ears and Ian tells me to whack him. Huh? Whack him? Whack him, Jen! So I whacked him! I hit the poor lad across the snout and told him 'No Phoenix!' (in my best teacher voice). And would you believe, in some crazy rule of the natural world, that earned me the respect on this razor with fur. It was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life!

Love you all and hope you're well.

Jen