To Find the Real Zambia, It Took a Village

We asked Fanny if she could show us some traditional medicines.

"This will help a man's sex problem," she said quickly, picking up a gin bottle and pouring a few drops on a spoon. She paused to gauge our reaction.

Was she joking? Should we dare crack a smile? We did. And so did Fanny.

"And these," she continued, turning serious, and grasping a handful of roots, "help patients who are having seizures."

She also spoke of a special bark she boils to treat patients who need blood. "I don't want my patients to use the blood that hospitals want to give them," Fanny said, lowering her voice. "The hospitals get their blood from people whose mother or father may have the deadly AIDS disease."

Rashes, infertility, diarrhea -- Fanny has remedies for these, too.

"This is not magic," Fanny said, repeating herself.

After a half-hour, we said our goodbyes. But as we were leaving her hut, Fanny told Gabriela that she really liked the cowry-shell necklace she was wearing.

"I've been looking for these types of shells. I use them to help people with bad luck," Fanny said. "I put the shells in a white dish with roots and a liquid, then wash the patient's face, while we are both facing the east. That brings the patient good luck."

Fanny kept staring at the necklace, which Gabriela had bought on a trip to the beach a few summers back.

"Would you like me to give you the necklace?" Gabriela asked after a few thoughtful moments.

Fanny's eyes glistened.

"God bless you," she said, grasping Gabriela's hands. "Because you gave me these shells, I guarantee that you'll have a lot of luck in your life."

Then we were off, ready to resume our safari. As we walked to our vehicle with Banda, several children emerged from their huts, waving and yelling, "Zikomo! Zikomo!"

"Zikomo means 'thank you,' " Banda told us. "These children were telling you: 'Thank you for visiting our village.' "

Bill Brubaker is a writer and editor for washingtonpost.com.