Confessions of a Michigander in the dead of Zambia’s winter

What some folks don’t realize… is that Zambia can get COLD.

Yes.

Cold

As in fifteen-degrees-Celsius-in-my-bedroom-cold. 

(That’s like fifty-nine-degrees-Fahrenheit in my bedroom. That’s also the temperature at which my thermostat is set for Michigan winter nights. The only time I find such an indoor temperature comfy is when I’m layered in pj’s, fitted with toasty socks, and burrowed under my flannel sheets and wool comforter. Then, it is a delicious temperature, just right for sleeping.)

For warm-blooded creatures in the world, fifteen degrees Celsius may not seem extreme.

For me, this temperature is frigid.

It’s been a rough week.

A cold week.

Even my  bicycle-rides to and from gym have been chilly.

(cold sweat. Yuck)

There are only so many hot drinks one girl can manage each day… and that number is not enough to keep me perpetually warm in Choma’s winter. 

Our house is up on a hill in the shade in what’s known as the coldest town around.

After crawling back under the covers this morning (after I continued to lose instead of gain warmth under my tiny wool blanket in the sitting room…), I remembered my down jacket. So, here I sit, in my green, down jacket, wisely packed last October when Michigan temps were similar to current ones here.

Some things in life are very difficult to believe. The weather in Choma is one of them. 

In a couple short months, I’ll be so hot I won’t stop sweating day or night. 

The thought of a blanket on my bed will be similar to imagining the feeling of curling up in a running clothes dryer. My down jacket will be stuffed in the back of the closet, and I might wonder why I packed it anyway.

But for now, I’m ever so glad for my layers and our cupboard stocked with hot drink supplies.

And,

I must admit a jealously for my friends and family who are warm—yea, even hot—today.

I confess.

*sorry, no picture. You'll just have to imagine my green, down jacket.*