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Thursday, 6:30 p.m., Dave's house, Lusaka

I'm too tired to fight with Blogger tonight, so my first picture will have to wait until tomorrow. I'm struggling a bit with taking photos -- I don't want to be "that guy," the muzungu (white man) staring out of the 4WD Toyota, taking pictures of the plight of the Zambians. And, quite frankly, I can't be -- everything here is photogenic, but the photo cannot tell the story, it can only capture the moment. And there are so many stories.

I mean, how does a photo describe the feeling of being surrounded by a sea of black faces, being obviously foreign, and yet reading every sign in English? Or of walking into the grocery store and purchasing Philadelphia Cream Cheese, All Bran cereal and veggie burgers, and then looking across the street at the decrepid open city market -- complete with headstone vendors out front? Or of living most of your life with pre-conceived notions of "Africa" as a land of backward, militaristic, tribal nations, only to realize that, in the city at least, cell phones are plastered to the ear of almost everyone you pass on the street?

The answer is, it doesn't. I heard a great truism today about Africa for the Westerner: "It takes a week to get it, and a lifetime to get over it." I've been here 12 hours, and for me comprehension has only just begun.