<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="no"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Thu, 05 Sep 2024 09:03:28 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>Botswana</category><category>Cambodia elephant Mondulkiri</category><category>race relations</category><category>travel</category><category>#1 Ladies Detective Agency</category><category>Africa</category><category>Lost iPad</category><category>Modisa</category><category>O'Hare</category><category>Sirga</category><category>South Africa</category><category>Stockholm</category><category>Val Gruener</category><category>apartheid</category><category>buses</category><category>indigenous</category><category>wild cat</category><category>women</category><title>Elephant Pith</title><description>Some thoughts by a . . . well, "middle-aged" woman embarking on uncharacteristic adventures to Africa and Cambodia to volunteer at  wildlife rehabilitation projects</description><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (elephantpith)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>155</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><language>en-us</language><itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit><copyright>Creative Commons</copyright><itunes:summary>Some thoughts by a . . . well, "middle-aged" woman embarking on uncharacteristic adventures to Africa and Cambodia to volunteer at wildlife rehabilitation projects</itunes:summary><itunes:subtitle>Some thoughts by a . . . well, "middle-aged" woman embarking on uncharacteristic adventures to Africa and Cambodia to volunteer at wildlife rehabilitation projects</itunes:subtitle><itunes:author>Ann Eshelman</itunes:author><itunes:owner><itunes:email>munninghoff@gmail.com</itunes:email><itunes:name>Ann Eshelman</itunes:name></itunes:owner><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-8238992434479974706</guid><pubDate>Sun, 18 Mar 2018 18:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2023-06-05T12:13:38.454-05:00</atom:updated><title>Aftermath</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Well, that's it.&amp;nbsp; I've been home now for about 3 and 1/2 months, and life has returned to something like normal.&amp;nbsp; I'm busy.&amp;nbsp; I have working at the local food pantry, being on the school board, art class, student mentoring, trivia night every two weeks, planning the Sustainability Fair, etc. etc. to keep me out of trouble, but there's a part of me that </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/03/aftermath.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGez99Bif8Evij-KfT2Wls05Qg9q3AqpUuZKyAt1OVXzis627X_qO8WoaGalew-_tMaMOBD5IKTqhxJxgS61ryDA1idfqBE9fdGRUuS0n8UF24A1tFukVgJS8Ws_j19zDi4e2pP_yleUEz/s72-c/IMG_20180318_120147992.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-4372015677902611659</guid><pubDate>Wed, 07 Mar 2018 23:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-03-07T17:25:33.178-06:00</atom:updated><title>The Final Leg</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I was again fortunate on the leg from Kigali to Amsterdam to be seated next to a Ugandan electrical engineer on his way to Haiti.&amp;nbsp; He had been working there trying to re-establish some infrastucture for several years and would come home to visit his family occasionally and go back.&amp;nbsp; He said going to Haiti was so odd for him, because</atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/03/the-final-leg.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMEUvXnZfSg7LOiad_NLqNt3T_kGM4JjVqpsTEmJfnXa3qHRPONiWCoKdFwYqsZW5xb9AruQubbRDFk8DH8YycILkevn8_52XhGVciN4Xy7EcOT6T5spm6tLGEBYjp1zlKiaKujYHo_lO0/s72-c/IMG_20180101_135711590.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-7179293290178782023</guid><pubDate>Mon, 05 Mar 2018 17:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-03-05T11:16:53.516-06:00</atom:updated><title>Hotel des Mille Collines</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Somewhere along the line I began to realize that my friends liked to surprise me.&amp;nbsp; So after we regretfully left Heaven, they told me we were making one last stop, but they didn't tell me where.
We pulled into the parking lot of a large hotel 


very near Heaven, and Moses asked me if I knew where we were.&amp;nbsp; As it happens, I did know where we were--at the Hotel </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/03/hotel-des-mille-collines.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0KxHeDNWf4Ev2zBwew_o6YWxoGtehLpw-9FHSn9zNIxrw4lN0UtJw0lOclv1xPVYEPDGp7w3P1y0sUSosxHdFcXqFU3YDGwKR_J1sbnZjv0SfFVH5CMxBAEKgqfEeKudLmZzAAXnEVD3Y/s72-c/IMG_20171127_085924666_HDR.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-960951192932411194</guid><pubDate>Sun, 04 Mar 2018 20:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2023-06-05T12:30:54.813-05:00</atom:updated><title>A Thousand Hills and a Restaurant </title><atom:summary type="text">

&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The drive from Lake Bunyonyi to Kigali is not all that long, and as we proceeded, I began to feel that odd mixture of sadness that the trip is over and I wouldn't be seeing my new friends again for a long time, if ever, and also of excitement at going home.&amp;nbsp; We crossed the Uganda/Rwanda border like old pro's </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/03/a-thousand-hills-and-restaurant.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsnW43SilRwfMkpCQfsTsTVHSuNYxWCN_tHG4JaLmmn4BSPmcKjQrqqol140BFLowmmRnFdo_KoA-CH9QZ_c06dLNgiLrpaTzh0XiDppv7SM0shjjA3bgANI6BSmfaLi0are9J0Z18c-2/s72-c/IMG_20171126_054657579_HDR.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-609932191880835326</guid><pubDate>Tue, 27 Feb 2018 02:42:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-26T20:42:09.843-06:00</atom:updated><title>Lake Bunyonyi</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; In my mind I had rated Lake Kivu a 10 out of a possible 10 (though now that I reflect on it, perhaps I should have deducted a point or two because of the probability that it will blow up one day and kill everyone and everything for miles around).&amp;nbsp; I had to create a whole new scale when I saw Lake Bunyonyi.&amp;nbsp; 10 out of 10 is not enough for Lake Bunyonyi.
&amp;nbsp; &amp;</atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/lake-bunyonyi.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9g6cP77mJGL1pK4m6pF5e62Jl-aF9x1Z6DvUQX7c2IA869wwEXYPgs4R_E68eDTYIwYgckjE8pDcC-J7_sghAJCZ3b_L2vFP3lziucjdy-wtOs4l4G7h2wU2SCVnkiclpSmG4wn6N-GvI/s72-c/IMG_20171126_233742998_HDR.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-2633840587196120375</guid><pubDate>Mon, 26 Feb 2018 01:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-26T09:11:27.198-06:00</atom:updated><title>And the award for best picture goes to . . . . . . </title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; We all tentatively stepped out onto the road, bewildered as we could be.&amp;nbsp; It was shocking, after all the trekking we had done, to so suddenly find signs of "civilization."&amp;nbsp; The gorilla trackers were all sitting around, and they looked suspiciously like they were laughing at the frightful, exhausted mess we all were.&amp;nbsp; "Over there,"&amp;nbsp; they pointed out,&amp;</atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/and-award-for-best-picture-goes-to.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDkWryVLJX349MaHkrY-lQwirW6yqud4DLNfJDJdFKnTXfMiVNVRLJ7gI9XNWMn4K4nlpwvmFxj9ESyf4BvLgbGoH-YyB7HxaOfEeaD1yB5fV0duxR2tQH1KLT-av5CNpHAoV9aBjkp3z/s72-c/IMG_20171126_033529168.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-2748488651980688524</guid><pubDate>Sun, 25 Feb 2018 03:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-24T21:21:41.540-06:00</atom:updated><title>A trek of all treks</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I felt a little smug eating dinner that night since I already had my first gorilla trek under my belt.&amp;nbsp; I also had my insider information from the Dutch lady that morning that it would be an easy short hike, since hers had only been about 10 minutes into the forest.&amp;nbsp; Here in Bwindi is where she had trekked.&amp;nbsp; So I set off in serene confidence that this would be an</atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/a-trek-of-all-treks.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2NLe092iQX1FQbDiXT2-EYDTrGx-uV0gD0D23ulE_kOrFZIg26vGdGJTm7yRI-p5If_2o3Vg4IBLBGYOndIJVPwVwmsWOeMvy9oDSYZ-03Z_PGN2dhW88RgGy8Hkllt_FF5CPKKhFCD2/s72-c/IMG_20171125_234155564.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-2358827970800318751</guid><pubDate>Mon, 19 Feb 2018 02:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-18T20:43:18.941-06:00</atom:updated><title>Emma loses his appetite but manages to drive anyway</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The four of us--Moses, Jackie, Emma, and I got on&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; 



very well.&amp;nbsp; I was very self-conscious, however, about
the fact that we seldom ate together, and we almost&amp;nbsp;
never slept at the same hotel.&amp;nbsp; They would drop me off
at a hotel--sometimes with Jackie to keep me company--
and then go off to find housing for themselves and
also </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/emma-loses-his-appetite-but-manages-to.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOIWoC4L9tMXA5jn3gFfZOFFRaREwcleCjJil_ZRSLxYNULjcIgqJVhH1NKRAylBtqMpMVQCaOUJsEUY6MLVhQRO3BXHtYhq2_GM9ZkovOIVZdw-SnMaVacNWyReLjIOcjOal9B6AlWhfR/s72-c/IMG_20171125_062311939.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-3156586566000683908</guid><pubDate>Sun, 18 Feb 2018 02:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-17T20:15:46.709-06:00</atom:updated><title>Down the mountain and graduation</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;


&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; While we were admiring the big guy's waking up process, we became aware that there was a little guy goofing around.&amp;nbsp; He was a mix of curiosity and fear.&amp;nbsp; He clearly wanted to approach us but he was also afraid of us.&amp;nbsp; I was surprised when our guide told us he was six years old--he appeared so young to me, and his behavior </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/down-mountain-and-graduation.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk3PSMOiB3viZrT7JVV0e-oeWZIBUcgC0R3HXLh9XXY4a-oinmGPBqvOchhOP8emnfF_3-aPC5ivobmFmqwA0b6hT2Hmr1U4sgSEQiIncMkLcaXc1YnkZjY1qKXLuUEXLoYMqgedBojbIF/s72-c/IMG_20171125_031552316.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-5998436111401002155</guid><pubDate>Fri, 16 Feb 2018 23:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-16T17:09:09.725-06:00</atom:updated><title>And now for our feature presentation . . . .</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The day started out inauspiciously.&amp;nbsp; I was awakened from a sound sleep by the sound of terrified screaming, seemingly just a few yards from my window.&amp;nbsp; I was simply paralyzed--couldn't think what to do.&amp;nbsp; I was relieved to hear some authoritative-sounded voices raised, and the screaming stopped.&amp;nbsp; I hoped for the best.&amp;nbsp; I asked the desk attendant </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/and-now-for-our-feature-presentation.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelDmXoT_3_iO_m2eHrUv_iiSFOmSkcdoHpyg2aW06t7BTnKEhko9yBT9XIn3xOvivZmJlwt82fEzPEv3VjYYvjwOcbZ9-mo3gfqQgXbGNSeKsxaoFEzEGyg4BU0muEDSY6Kf8Q5ApcKTt/s72-c/IMG_20171125_043720515.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-5112484405072273518</guid><pubDate>Thu, 15 Feb 2018 03:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-14T21:06:33.125-06:00</atom:updated><title>Over the border and through the woods</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; We left Gisenyi mid-morning and started heading for the Rwanda-Uganda border.&amp;nbsp; The countryside was very beautiful.&amp;nbsp; I was especially 


taken with the TEA fields!&amp;nbsp; They were so lush and richly--well, GREEN!&amp;nbsp; Apparently it was the season to harvest tea, which is very labor intensive.&amp;nbsp; I was told that the only way&amp;nbsp; to harvest </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/over-border-and-through-woods.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivq3XaZWgZ1pEX9hKHGy8YEUAd99fXFQ_XHyTfWwqOQiM87YBlnus-ZqeCpyCZuKHEfABBTpxAXkG6Ebhb81fbaI_9QZ2-DgEVk6PU-Fps3RPQJjPAmyDZBVQeZgNu_5CBh3xKbyr5Mqp1/s72-c/IMG_20171124_030459869.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-3010800043292713483</guid><pubDate>Mon, 12 Feb 2018 02:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-11T20:02:25.703-06:00</atom:updated><title>Just one more thing . . . . .</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; My night in Gisenyi was my last night in Rwanda, so, like Columbo in the old television series, I find I have just one more thing to say about Rwanda before, literally, crossing the border into Uganda.&amp;nbsp; More importantly, I have photos that just are crying out to be included, even though they didn't fit neatly into my narrative.








&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; For </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/just-one-more-thing.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY4wD4Odv-vzSPTqfaIzNZMc6lBCvULxnL4b5vQeGjqSD-D_A-W8J-JfJHicLoAvB1VH7q6J3rMXMl0wLXYjm2kS7SPFR6BZbyYl2ZK_QiuN6eoYOnj_htyF42yeIz_WN80OZpF69cr3TX/s72-c/IMG_20171122_005429279_HDR.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-7860256214551487509</guid><pubDate>Fri, 09 Feb 2018 17:49:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-09T11:52:19.255-06:00</atom:updated><title>Lake Kivu</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; If you're in the mood for some terrifying news, read all about Lake Kivu.&amp;nbsp; It is one of Africa's Great Lakes, near Lakes Victoria and Tanganyika, and about as beautiful as one could hope for.&amp;nbsp; But it sits on a huge mass of gasses, which according to historical analysis, has caused the lake to literally explode about every 1000 years or so, which wipes out all </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/lake-kivu.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitHXbMijwsLYJ2wc5fl4arNSYW_J7XL3n-fhRDdl3sQ4UBdQkoGg_sTkEk9IrBn821sq73sLttaYRw3qwOleJ7dg8PQxRawvbL-Eb-BNDvIsMskg77W02KEkg12BMNBz24S0yvk3H9aQWT/s72-c/IMG_20171124_010857882.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-4253208911845072511</guid><pubDate>Wed, 07 Feb 2018 20:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-07T14:53:07.193-06:00</atom:updated><title>Thinking about Dian Fossey</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; In the part of the world I found myself--near where the nations of Rwanda, Uganda, and the Democratic Republic of Congo come together--it is impossible NOT to think about Dian Fossey.&amp;nbsp; Her memory is so very cherished by so many people, and the impact of her life's work is so very extensive, that she seems to be at the forefront of the collective consciousness, </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/thinking-about-dian-fossey.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivGfNro58RlCxSsuD97a7NsBwBuAUr-wloqvNRmDNVuj20MqlLyEhXhBLSpX-Ii8g5rGbr5_sJ2oFbcjA-dP_wP_nE6BifdjWQCuQ0DXDATK_SFYq0wnN76I0CRHx8EiKzsI3ba4V9c9bT/s72-c/IMG_20171121_100915594_HDR.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-9167781547159096425</guid><pubDate>Sun, 04 Feb 2018 22:40:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-04T16:40:53.074-06:00</atom:updated><title>Well, THAT was a fine large afternoon!</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; One of my Mom's favorite ways of describing a pleasant event was to call it a "fine large" whatever, and let me tell you, the afternoon after the morning monkey trek was both fine AND large!
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Moses had been telling me that we going to visit a local "cultural village," and I imagined that that was going to be a rather tame affair, but of course I was </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/well-that-was-fine-large-afternoon.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtvv7QNQgeFDz1WR5fvS2Lv20y4__nwgBvW3Ix-m-Zh-92nHv8FbW5ymjOGMVUJ_KOJ4qAIMwWpL3aGUxszfdKDI8u5miWnKl5tb4dWPhj5FLPCYUQ8hEVQuaRHCohjHHnmA0Zv8CJwrBW/s72-c/IMG_20171122_041334489.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-2989239381161808764</guid><pubDate>Fri, 02 Feb 2018 21:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-02-02T15:05:00.509-06:00</atom:updated><title>Jubilation and monkeys</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I awoke that morning to the sound of men chanting rhythmically seemingly circling around the streets of the town.&amp;nbsp; I couldn't imagine what the occasion could be.&amp;nbsp; I got up and went to breakfast where a TV was playing, and the news was huge.&amp;nbsp; Mugabe resigned!&amp;nbsp; And thus 37 years of rule was ended.&amp;nbsp; Clips of hysterically joyful Zimbabweans dominated </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/02/jubilation-and-monkeys.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSs8VvGCv2baxhoHLDbBoEfyUUit6Smb5ifymmxgj0A0_vonv4iiGAGsNncH7m4SDItEKcOwxg0_qxg8pYjMHb3ZY6qXz356CzhvzyhNG6WX9QUvphrKI0QWfAj1Z4Ix_AB-vdTy9p8jxX/s72-c/IMG_20171122_022915972_BURST000_COVER_TOP.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-8479438341228590725</guid><pubDate>Sun, 28 Jan 2018 21:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-01-28T21:24:20.228-06:00</atom:updated><title>The road out of Kigali</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; It was somewhat of a relief to leave the Genocide Center, though in Rwanda you NEVER leave the Genocide far behind.&amp;nbsp; We did leave Kigali (pronounced CHigali in the local dialect) behind as Moses, Jackie, Emma, and I headed northwest.&amp;nbsp; The countryside was VERY beautiful.&amp;nbsp; There has been a bountiful rainy season there, and the grass was green, the crops were </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-road-out-of-kigali.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSeQm7d0JFUAsJf-CBWOIMaamOosNXmZVRw3S4SFxj_x0Y5KLNM0IN6VKLRDCLn1mBniXzMImliXCTavkuanpbgvx-k7f2oTyuw1NVTcrFYT6jGgLw4M9l2ML0r77ubkC1sO8dk7slNNA/s72-c/IMG_20171125_075157574_HDR.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-7015080939105768203</guid><pubDate>Wed, 17 Jan 2018 20:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-01-17T14:14:48.752-06:00</atom:updated><title>The Genocide</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Of COURSE the first stop of our upcoming week's travels was the Genocide Center. Being only about 20 years ago, the Genocide is very much in the forefront of the Rwandan collective consciousness.&amp;nbsp; I was there in November, but I understand that the time from April to July, the anniversary of the actual 100 days of genocide, is a time when Rwandans are even more </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-genocide.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE2xjCrHWBJVFIF6qHIbiS3AZIbbGST2JzJPUn4tjhSMSJIW6m-Ae3lNix-cDuJArF9HhSW1tSQAzdI0mmXi4SIbaMgfZOzKXrCfoAk00BsG6AYVIa8Jo6CZgCU5YpVK5sFviaJ-7CkOgI/s72-c/IMG_20171121_044036363_HDR.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-7609078450512016211</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 Jan 2018 20:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-01-15T14:09:33.254-06:00</atom:updated><title>Ubumuntu</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; So much for the euphoria of Dancing Queen.&amp;nbsp; I am at LEAST as morose as the cowboy on the dusty road in Nevada.&amp;nbsp; My moroseness comes from the acute shame that "my" president created for the entire United States by crassly and stupidly dismissing all of Africa, together with Haiti--reportedly.&amp;nbsp; Click&amp;nbsp;here if you've been in a coma the past few days.&amp;nbsp;</atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/01/ubumuntu.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJU0odjamaUn1m2TiZasEfBbJEUn8Wtd1dwE7m_f02a9poI92YixL9mCcxdMxNHArwRQ_7c3ERx7GwSCu0tQsKGrq3pFRajan7y8S-uKWWSbeKPhkGS3VUuvPuKb7pp-4ho7c9cv9Ka4-A/s72-c/IMG_20171121_023914435.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-3469631345957524668</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jan 2018 17:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-01-10T11:51:13.392-06:00</atom:updated><title>Swedes in Africa, Part II</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I had the hotel dining balcony all to


 myself while eating my delicious goat stew.&amp;nbsp; I'd ordered goat because, well, it's not every day one has the choice to eat goat, and I'm always curious about the meat that is said to be the most widely eaten meat in the world.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I sat outside in the very pleasant evening air and looked over the magnificent hills of </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/01/swedes-in-africa-part-ii.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjVHKHVdeR8KSDhIWSMttAt9V7Rbafl_HWgz5Jm-ZcPjYeO0MGD-V9UR5xhuQYe1yB5mWUbG24X30lubl6PVdurQn6VhiWMScX2Nkj7LdHQ2MP8_THykAsiOK58h2guD78m3X9MDm84DA/s72-c/IMG_20171121_014811732_HDR.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-8079938629503796593</guid><pubDate>Tue, 09 Jan 2018 21:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-01-09T15:09:59.154-06:00</atom:updated><title>An almost weird transition</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I can't say I worked hard at EDD, but my days were pretty full.&amp;nbsp; I'd made a lot of friends there, so by the time Monday rolled around and it was time for me to go, I was feeling sad.&amp;nbsp; Dalia sat and waited with me when all of a sudden, it started thundering, which was not new, because we had little thunderstorms almost every afternoon.&amp;nbsp; But this was QUITE </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/01/an-almost-weird-transition.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbDp9wQxTN_jO77xZEdvmr9c6CRbeDqm6TjYRdQidpU9-cR-fKNIJ9EhY43pPd_uoOCRsoynA47BnXGRobx90wEzEL9O9AZr7w1rx8BR7xl6tb-cd53iZQz5Admr7wiZxWhyZq_GGaNHj/s72-c/IMG_20171121_014920165.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-6072548567585034379</guid><pubDate>Mon, 08 Jan 2018 20:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-01-10T10:17:51.713-06:00</atom:updated><title>The house at the school</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Initially I was pretty shocked by my accommodations at EDD.&amp;nbsp; But once I bought an adequate supply of bottled water and toilet paper, I began to feel quite at home.&amp;nbsp; I got into the habit of sitting outside my door on a little ledge there, drinking coffee, 

"My" sitting area at "my" house

and enjoying the morning sun complete with lots of bird calls, the voices </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-house-at-school.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2rGLvQDMc5DXowyBo0Yua9g3GxJKf5c808m8uuHWPerdqZBC6KDGdN_Vn-Y-MmUtb8nv1HSW2635d-DZEn1_7pNq6W0va5NHjG67oi0-Gp6e5_6NR2xq1_mombzyIO2aKop9vrvRb13B/s72-c/IMG_20171116_002614819_HDR.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-7717538611741153907</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 Jan 2018 17:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-01-07T11:23:40.100-06:00</atom:updated><title>News From Zimbabwe</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Some of my friends have occasionally asked me, "Aren't you afraid to travel to Zimbabwe?"&amp;nbsp; I was nervous the first time.&amp;nbsp; Seeing President Mugabe's face on display at the airport when I first arrived a couple of years ago WAS an intimidating sight.&amp;nbsp; Mugabe is, of course, the stuff from which Africa's worst legends are made, and in the 37 years he has been in </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/01/news-from-zimbabwe.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSv3pB2uR3gLsiuVaLtKt1nXfi1EZ5bqC9Y4o9dlODAZe9C1RCgUBO8x6GxRNWP7Dbl3ntkpZvwXh2NgMiVMGxBme3ZbBP65GSdcoiycUookms2yVfAFmscffP2bSCiOcv7Ar_Lq0IZ3l/s72-c/from+Guardian+for+blog.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-2861573421892544588</guid><pubDate>Thu, 04 Jan 2018 18:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-01-04T12:38:37.295-06:00</atom:updated><title>Mr. Charles Hazabintwali</title><atom:summary type="text">&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I have mentioned Charles only in passing so far.&amp;nbsp; It was through Charles I had initial contact with EDD.&amp;nbsp; It was Charles with whom I exchanged emails informing me what to be prepared for.&amp;nbsp; It was Charles who picked me up at the airport late that Monday night.&amp;nbsp; It was Charles who helped me with 


the day to day complexities like Rwandan currency and buying </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/01/mr-charles-hazabintwali.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGI4BC0pjJf1msb8ddP_JDOIUBvzYBGyy2OjFg0RyZHycyeJnUO2K7nTKaaL8B51uJQcaB7RIVt7rT5dwfVlslyIz1cf-xvkmwmWdaTsDXGFL9wsQPpUqX6lCkaz4KW9YzWFyNGt76h-pI/s72-c/IMG_20171119_041947713_HDR.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6558138000668120170.post-1776256920849598368</guid><pubDate>Thu, 04 Jan 2018 01:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2018-01-03T19:10:05.041-06:00</atom:updated><title>Experiment in International Relations, Part 2</title><atom:summary type="text">




























&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I had the bright idea that I should take photos of each writer together with the letter he'd written, so that the kids in Rhinelander could see what their correspondent looks like.&amp;nbsp; That did so not work.&amp;nbsp; Boys came and went, and letters piled up

and got shuffled around.&amp;nbsp; Anyway, I decided to feature here the two most </atom:summary><link>http://elephantpith.blogspot.com/2018/01/experiment-in-international-relations.html</link><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoQmPsRIuhfN0LPN-R5mBEEADEgT_31djDJZEO09UbizcFNn7TrnLt94VMmuc0qmt-6O2j3rLviH6u4B0m6jkL8uLwhoqwZEv2XJ7Zs11s4r36eyJp_seXW4dyvXmZqqRDaOnbzXxW0PfO/s72-c/IMG_20171118_031420347.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total><author>munninghoff@gmail.com (Ann Eshelman)</author></item></channel></rss>