Closing of Service

So I arrived here in Lusaka a couple of days ago to tie up all of my lose ends and tomorrow I'll 'ring out.' Ringing out is the symbolic ending of one's service where we bang a metal rod on an old car wheel. What better way to commemorate one's two years of service than with a percussive beating of something commonly found in junk yards around the United States. Although I jest, it's oddly appropriate for this country.

The last couple of days I've been running around trying to get signatures from all the appropriate people to vouch that I've turned in my medical kit, water filter, quarterly reports, etc. I've also feverishly been typing up my Description of Service and Completion of Service reports (10 pgs total). Then I even got to write my own letter of recommendation. Needless to say, future schools or employers will be thoroughly impressed with my Peace Corps service because my letter of reco is so complimentary.

Aside getting blood drawn, TB tests, malaria tests, and the like from the medical office, I also got a cardboard container the size of a tall boy beer can. The contents of the can are three glass vials containing some mystery fluid, three popsicle sticks, and some toilet paper. It reminds me of the pine box car kit that you get in Boy Scouts. 'What does one do with these materials,' you ask. Well, the medical office needs three separate poo samples. So now each time I poo (up to three times) I have to collect a 'sample' and put it in the little glass jar inside my carboard cylinder. That's strange in and of itself, but since nature can call at any time of the day, I have to carry my cylinder with me. For the last two days I've been walking around everywhere and have butt mud samples in my manly hip pack. You may call it a fanny pack, but I prefer the masculine version.