Cultural Dissonance: Yesterday, I ate a “chicken cajun sandwich” [sic] at a Muslim fast-food place called Strictly Halal. In Zambia. I’m not sure what made the sandwich Cajun, per se — no peppers, no “blackening,” no crawfish (mmmm…crawfish). All I saw were mayo and pickles. Maybe pickles are, like, underground Cajun and I didn’t get the memo.
Why Journalists Can Appear Evil to Outside Observers, Part 3,637: When I got a phone call this morning saying that a teenaged girl had died after a long bout with tuberculosis, my only thought was, “Yes! Woo hoo!” (See, I’m writing a story on Zambian funerals and I needed to do some reporting and…never mind. I am evil.)
My Ever Declining Story Count: It appears that one of the five stories I was planning on writing is about to fall through. I had hoped to write a profile of Nevers Mumba, the vice president of Zambia. Mumba is a televangelist who got his theological training in, of all places, Dallas. Would have been such a fun story to write, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to get an interview. Alas. The religion section of the DMN would have ate it up, I bet.
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