and may all your christmases be white

Happy Holidays! I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…but waking up to rain and mosquitoes…and white sand beaches I guess? I’ll be celebrating the birth of Jesus in Mozambique this year. Home is where I really want to be, with snow and decorative pine trees. But I can’t complain. I’ll be traveling with 6 friends to the beautiful Mozambiquan coast of the Indian Ocean. Mozambique was colonized by the Portugese, and we are all looking forward to delicious food and lovely architecture. There is supposed to be a full blue moon on New Years Eve, which promises to be unforgettable in and of itself. We’ve decided to fly by the seat of our pants even more-so on this vacation than others. As it turns out, booking anything ahead of time in Mozambique is next to impossible and actually an incredibly shady process. It fits nicely with the whole ‘lack of forward thought’ theme of my life in Africa. We are planning to show up with tents and just kick it on the beach. I only pray that I’ll remember the reasoning behind these laid-back plans when they begin to play out…

Myself and 5 other Peace Corps volunteers living in Mpika district put on Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) last week. I would like to begin with a few overarching themes (or maybe more appropriately, lessons learned) for the week: 1) Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. (Why does this continue to surprise me?)

Actually, I think that one theme suffices. Pretty much the entire week was in reaction to this theme. What can you do when you are fully aware of the prevalence of Murphy’s law in your life?

Just a few examples:

**Absolutely nothing was prepared when we arrived at the recreation center. There weren’t enough mattresses, sheets, blankets, and absolutely no sense of organization on the part of the manager of the place we were paying to rent.The center was ‘creepy guy’ central. Men with nothing better to do were just hanging around the recreation center we rented out the whole week. On that note, apparently renting out a center only means renting out two rooms. Everyone else in the center can feel free to blast music and talk really loud. And poke their heads into your space every 5 minutes, ignoring all signs to keep quiet and not enter. The water couldn’t be turned off. Faucets were leaking and bathrooms were flooding. Of course 2 days of absolutely no water were interspersed throughout the week.

**The teachers who came with the students (1 teacher and 2 students from 5 different villages) demanded allowances for being there; allowances on top of the transport, rooming, and meals that we provided for them. One student also expected to be paid to attend the camp. 1 teacher and 1 student decided to leave the first day due to the fact that we weren’t paying them to be there, even though it was clearly stated in a letter drafted to them weeks before the camp began. When the teachers began to demand money, we met with all of them and gave it to them straight; They weren’t going to be paid to attend the camp. The camp centers around equipping teenage girls with the skills and confidence necessary to overcome the many obstacles they face growing up in a patriarchal society. If the teachers weren’t willing to stay and be involved in the empowerment of these girls, we would pay them the transport money to leave right now. But if they chose to stay, they would have to be involved and show that they care. Most chose to stay because they lived so far away, not because they recognized the need to empower young women in their village. I find it difficult to think of a time in my life when I have met a more entitled group of people. The 4 teachers that chose to stay continued to cause problems for the next 5 days.

**We had one session on condom use, and sat down with the teachers before the session to address any issues they may have with teaching abstinence, condom use, and birth control. Zambia considers itself a ‘christian nation’ and churches and schools preach abstinence only. However, when most women are becoming pregnant when they are 15 years old, clearly people are engaging in sex outside of marriage. The World Health Organization has done studies that show that when young women are taught about birth control through abstinence as well as the use of contraceptives, they are more likely to choose abstinence for themselves more often than if they are taught abstinence only. It was not the intention of Camp GLOW to morally judge these girls for choices they make when it comes to their bodies, but to make every option available to them and allow them to make their own decisions. Although the teachers agreed with our intentions prior to the session, during the session they told the girls that sex outside of marriage is sinful, that they should read certain Bible verses, and basically that they were terrible people if they didn’t abstain from sex. They even told the girls that using birth control at a young age can cause you to have problems conceiving later in life. We found ourselves openly arguing with the teachers during the session.

So what do you do when everything goes wrong? Do you freak out and throw in the towel? Not here. Or you wouldn't last very long. When you live in Zambia, you cling so strongly to the smallest things that go right until you are white in the knuckles.

First of all, our caterer was amazing. We had delicious meals prepared for us every day, and for the most part they were ready within an hour of when they were supposed to be, which in Zambia means they were on time.

Most importantly, the 9 girls that stayed for the week were unbelievable. It was great to see Zambian teenage girls be able to be teenage girls around each other. They bonded throughout the week and really opened up to and accepted one another. They were so much fun to be around, and were always smiling. We had some pretty unforgettable dance parties. There were 2 18-year old girls we had attend the camp as counselor-types. They slept in the same room as the younger girls and got to know them on a more personal level. They facilitated a session on rape and sexual abuse with the girls (sans Peace Corps volunteers and teachers) toward the end of the week. Following the session, all the girls wanted to go to VCT (voluntary counseling and testing) for HIV at the local clinic.

During the session itself, 5 out of 9 of the girls revealed that they had been raped. Some had been abused by cousins, some by complete strangers. Only one of the men had been put in jail. What these girls face on a daily basis either breaks them or makes them stronger. When over half of the girls in a group of intelligent young women who have shown to be leaders in their communities have been sexually abused, something is incredibly wrong. I wish I could keep Zambian men away from these girls for the rest of their lives. I wish their society would protect them against constant harassment from men who could never hold a candle to their strength. I wish that older women in the community supported the younger generation, and gave them hope that life doesn't have to be this way. But the most I can do is do all that I can to equip these girls, in 5 days, with the tools and skills to stand up for themselves, to realize how incredibly strong and beautiful they are. The most I can hope for is that one aspect of the camp really sunk in; that just one girl gets her boyfriend to use a condom; that just one girl feels she can report her teacher raping her to someone she trusts and not feel blamed; that just one girl fights to continue her schooling. Change is incremental. All it takes is one girl realizing the potential power she holds, and helping other women around her to do the same, for this country to change. You just have to plant the seed...

Thank you so much to all who donated money to Camp GLOW. Without your help, these 9 girls would have missed out on an opportunity to change their lives. It is impossible to be sure that they will take everything they learned back to the village with them and put it into practice. All you can do is try. Story of my life in the Peace Corps.

Happy Holidays! I wish you all a healthy and happy Christmas surrounded by those you love.

Best wishes in the new year!

Love from Zambia.

katie

home sweet home?

Lately I've been ruminating on the concept of 'home'. I owe this not in small part to my 48-hour train ride returning from Dar Es Salaam to Kasama. When my friend Amy was visiting me for the past month, I couldn't stop thinking about home. America home. Minnesota home. Family, friends, seasons, coffee, hot showers, cars, paved roads. Home. When I was visiting Maiken in Tanzania my thoughts went back to home, and that's where my heart was as well. I don't think I've ever valued my friendships and family on that side of the globe more so than in the past two years. While in Tanzania, although enjoying my travels and adventures, I wanted to be back home in the states. I felt that was where I belonged.

Yet while waiting at the train station in Dar Es Salaam (for the train that was of course 8 hours delayed leaving on the long trip back to Zambia), I heard Bemba spoken for the first time in a couple weeks. And I felt an immediate sense of comfort. Most others riding the train were Zambian, and the language I recognized on their tongue reassured me that I was going home. Zambia home. Bembaland home. Bicycles, dirt roads, Zambian family, sunshine, rain, gong show. Home.

I am a resident of Zambia. I own a mudhut in the bush. I know my way around from the bush paths to the crater-ridden paved roads. Yet my life here has evolved into much more than mere residency. Not only have I converted my hut into my own personal space I like to call home, but I walk through my village and people know my name. And finally I know theirs! Although work is still frustrating and at this point almost nonexistent, I still enjoy the company of those I try to work with. I'm happy in my village. Nkomba village. My home in Zambia. Home sweet home.

I write this all at the risk of sounding completely cheesy. ;)

From where I'm standing, America sounds so nice. But Zambia has become a part of me. Leaving this country promises to be more difficult than I anticipate. At this point in my service, with about 5 months to go (possibly fewer), I am trying to relish this home to which I will realistically not return. Although my mind still tends to wander to my home on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, my flip-flops continue to remain firmly grounded in the dirt of Zambia. I will always have these two homes, and wherever I go one will always remain in my heart regardless of where my feet may stand.

.peace&luv.

happy turkey day!!

katie

p.s. a big THANK YOU to anyone who donated to our camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) proposal. We raised the necessary funds very quickly due to your support and will be putting on the camp the second week of December 2009. Your help is appreciated more than you know.

.things i'll probably never do again.

I climbed a mountain yesterday. Today I am walking around as if there is a pole shoved up my ass. I am currently in Arusha, visiting Maiken, a friend from my St. Olaf soccer days. She is in medical school at the University of Minnesota and is taking about 6 months to work in a hospital here in Tanzania with two other friends from the U. They have a pretty nice house and are living the crazy life as well. It's been interesting to hear about their experiences at the hospital and also to commiserate with their frustrations. They actually came up with a funny way of 'explaining' how things work/don't work in Africa. Picture a control room full of buttons; buttons that control atm machines, electricity, transport, etc. Now picture this control room taken over by monkeys, who push the buttons at random, with no rhyme or reason, their arms lunging out at random buttons with no sort of order. This is the control room that runs this continent. It has been infiltrated by monkeys and they have accidentally locked themselves in. But at least they are having fun, even if it is at our expense. Since it's accepted that nothing makes sense here, I like the monkey analogy. In a crazy way it helps my mind wrap itself around all the craziness. Luckily I live in the bush and never expect to have electricity, but when I'm in kasama and the power goes out 5 times in 1 day, I can blame it on the monkey button. :)

So back to mountain climbing. Maiken, Katie (one of her med school friends), Amy, and I climbed Mount Meru, the third highest mountain in Africa behind Kilimanjaro and Mount Kenya, for 3 days. It stands at an impressive 4,566 meters as is actually taller than Mt. Rainier (the highest peak in the continental U.S.). The first two days we climbed an average of 5 hours per day, going fairly slow to acclimitize to the altitude. The third days we got out of our toasty warm sleeping bags at midnight and began the 5-hour final hike to the summit to watch the sun rise over mt. kilimanjaro. The climb was definitely more technical than I thought, and the high elevation definitely didn't make heavy breathing any easier. We climbed over rocks and shifty dirt for 5 hours with our headlamps on, barely able to make out the path ahead of us in the pitch-black darkness (the moon was just a small sliver). But it was all worth it once we reached the top. We enjoyed Snickers bars and watched the sunrise, resting for 15 minutes and taking in the breathtaking views before spending the next 9 hours completely descending the mountain. There were two camps we stayed at along the way up, complete with rooms for sleeping, a kitchen, and a dining room. We hired porters, a cook, and a guide (complete with gun to scare away any charging buffalo...yikes!). We each packed a day pack with the essentials for each daily climb (water, an extra layer of clothes, a snack, etc.). We also packed 2 larger packs for the 4 of us to share, in which we put our sleeping bags and warmer clothes (there was some snow at the top and nights got pretty chilly even for us Minnesotans). Since Maiken and Katie are doctors here, they scored us all some diamox, which we took to prevent altitude sickness. Despite a minor rolled ankle, some bouts of diarrhea, and the biting cold we all made it to the summit and back down. There were two dutch men who were also climbing the mountain when we were, and one of them struggled a lot with altitude sickness at the top. Thank god for our traveling pharmacy. :) Although I'm sure I will be sore for the next week, I am really glad that I climbed Mount Meru. It was challenging and rigorous, at times incredibly dangerous, but so much fun with our group of 4. We sang disney songs to keep our spirits up, played cards at the camps, and spent more time laughing than gasping for air. Although I don't see myself taking up mountain-climbing as a hobby any time in the near future, I will never forget climbing a mountain in Africa in the middle of the night only to witness a spectacular sunrise with friends. Unforgettable.

Another thing I plan to never do again is bunji-jump. One of the first things Amy and I did once she arrived in Zambia was jump right on a bus to Livingstone with 3 of my closest peace corps friends. We decided on the adventure package, meaning we decided to absolutely terrify ourselves for the next 2 days. As much adrenaline rush as is humanly possible in 48 hours.

The first day our plan was to white-water raft on the Zambezi, followed by a booze cruise at sunset. Rafting was definitely way more intense than when I went in July, even though our boat didn't tip. There was one rapid that was so intense we had to get out of the raft and walk around the rapid on the rocks while our raft braved it alone, only to catch it and jump right back in afterward. After the final rapid, we were told to jump out of the boat and swim to shore to cool ourselves off before the long hike back up the gorge. While we were fighting the rushing current, my friend Claire yelled out that there was a snake right next to me on the rock. Always the calm one in crisis situations, I screamed out 'SNAKE!' and swam for my life. You know it's bad when Zambians are also freaking out a bit. It was a python that was probably just as terrified of us as we were of it. But we don't have the power to kill it with a single bite. So there. We made it safely to the shore, climbed up the gorge, and rested a little before boarding the weirdest boat cruise of my life.

The boat was overcrowed, but we managed to get on early and snag a table on the top deck. Then along came a group of about 20 older dutch people, who stole one of our seats (we thought they were joking at first) and wouldn't give it back. My view on the dutch is a bit tainted after that boat cruise. A girl and her mother were performing a model photo shoot on the back deck. Enough said. That's just weird. A random man came up to our table and shoved his camera in our faces, displaying a photo of his private area that made me nauseas. A random Aussie joined our table mid-cruise just for the fun of it. I have yet to meet an Australian I don't like. The drinks were flowing and a great time was had by all of course. But it was arguably the most confusing and strange 3 hours of my life.

Our second day in Livingstone we saw Victoria Falls (without much water flowing over it due to the dry season) as well as did a zipline, gorge swing, and bunji jumping over the Zambezi. While the first two were 'fun' while also managing to scare the crap out of me, I never plan to bunji-jump again. It literally froze me with fear. (My hands were frozen in a claw/death grip for at least 15 minutes after jumping. The whole operation was a bit janky, with mere towels wrapped around the ankles and then a swift push off the bridge. Once I was bouncing back up I was too terrified even to scream. Something was crazy with the rope and I was spinning and spinning, unable to orient myself or tell up from down. And I was still danging pretty far above rushing rapids. When a man tied to a rope descended to retrieve me and then pull me back up to the bridge, grabbed onto his legs for dear life and came just short of kissing him once we got back up to the bridge. I felt nauseas for a couple hours after the jump from all the spinning. I am glad that I did it, but it was a pretty intensely miserable experience. Of course I bought the dvd and picture cd to document it all. :) I am going to try to upload the video to this blog sometime today if anyone has any interest in watching me at my weakest moments, but don't be surprised if the power goes out or a monkey button is pushed that prevents the uploading.

Jumping off bridges and climbing mountains; two things that are crazy, and that I will probably never do again. Much like living in a mudhut in the bush of Africa. Once is more than enough. ;)

.luv from tanzania.

katie

when you are engulfed in flames...

Good afternoon from another sweaty, sticky, sky-wanting-to-rain-so-bad-but-can't-commit day in northern Zambia. My friend Amy and I just arrived back in Kasama today and will be getting on the train to Dar Es Salaam around 2am Saturday. I'll write more about our travels/adventures later but wanted to write a quick post about a weekend trip I made in September with about 20 other volunteers to 'The Wonder Gorge', commonly referred to around these parts as the 'Grand Canyon of Zambia'. We rented a canter truck (basically a big truck with a huge bed used for transporting goods...and people) to drive us 8 hours into the bush. Our plan was to camp for 2 nights at the gorge, and hike into the gorge itself down to the river below to cool off in the thick of hot season. I can safely say this trip turned out to be arguably the biggest shit show I have experienced in this country. And that's says a LOT.

After 8 hours in the back of a truck in the hot sun we rolled into the top of the gorge in the evening. We should have taken it as a bad omen when we were literally driving through fires and smoke. If I haven't mentioned this before, Zambians light their country on fire during the hot season. If the fires aren't stopped they tend to just keep spreading with the wind. We spent literally our entire first night at the gorge fighting these fires which had drifted out of control. There were fires encroaching on our camping spot on the tip of the cliff overlooking the gorge, as the canter truck dropped us off and promised to come back 'on time' in a couple days.

First we tried to make a fire break around our campsite. Although I can proudly claim making it to Junior Girl Scouts in middle school (i'm brushing off my shoulder), my nature 'expertise' doesn't extend to fighting fires. I mostly stuck to knitting and selling cookies. Much more difficult. ;) Luckily the guys in our group became all gung-hoe (sp? is that even a word?) and it was contagious for almost the entire group. We found big leafy sticks and started chasing the fires and hacking them out. Night had fallen and we were a crazy sight in the glow of the flames, sweaty and frantic yet still laughing, mostly at the fact that yes, this was actually happening. We managed to control the fires long enough for us to enjoy some dinner. But before passing out from utter exhaustion we formed groups of 2-3 people who were responsible for 'fire watch' during a 2-hour chunk of the night. Each group, when finished with their shift, would wake up the next group, and so on and so forth until dawn. The flames would calm down during the day, but as the wind shifted during dusk we would once again go into survival mode.

Speaking of survival, I had never before been in a situation that allowed me to witness so many peoples' (and my own) varying ways of handling crisis situations. Some became panicked and needed to pace and talk themselves through it. Others were all about coming up with a plan and organizing the troops. Still others connected their ipods to speakers and played music. Even others just sat and stared...before deciding they needed to cook something. Thank god for the latter groups we fought Zambian bush fires while listening to tunes from America, and had yummy food to eat afterward. There was a point where people actually started setting the bush afire to create a fire break with a smaller circumference around our tents. At one point this self-formed fire got a bit too close to my tent. My friend Joan immediately realized this and sprinted toward my tent, grabbing it out of the fast-approaching flames before they could begin to melt the exterior. However, in her quick movement of the tent one of the poles snapped. Thank god for REI. I already have new poles on the way free of charge! Shout out to them. :)

The theme of our wonder gorge trip was Murphey's Law. Whatever could have gone wrong, went horribly wrong. After a night of interrupted sleep to watch the fire patterns across the hills, we decided to hike down into the gorge. What should have taken approximately 2 hours took at least 4...for those who made it. The wonder gorge is no grand canyon because rarely does anyone go there. There are no trails to the bottom of the gorge. And you are scooting on your booty on a steep incline for most of the trip down, yelling out for the sake of those below you when you accidentally break a rock loose that goes tumbling down...down...down...The whole idea was incredibly dangerous and in hindsight we should probably have been using climbing gear and a balet system. Out of all times in my Zambian life, my stomach decided to have a parasitic attack while I was scaling down the side of the cliff. Instead of calling out to warn of falling rocks, I was calling out "don't look up! i have diarrhea!". I would find the nearest tree and cling on for dear life while my stomach rid itself of something nasty. I won't go into detail. Needless to say I was forced to end my trek down into the gorge, turn around, and begin an equally taxing trek back up the cliff, stopping along the way to relieve myself. It was disgusting. I was disgusted by myself. I made it back up to the top eventually, joining with a few others who had either decided immediately that the hike down was too dangerous and not worth it (they were the smart ones) and others who, like me, had made it part of the way and decided to turn around. Of course it was the thick of hot season so we hung our african fabrics and tent rainfly's in the branches of leafless trees to create some sort of shade. I spent the remainder of the day either running into the bush or laying in the fetile position in the shade. It was one of those days where I wonder what the hell I am doing here. Some pepto helped a bit, and luckily I was ok for the long canter truck ride back to 'civilization' the next day.

To compound the effects of the oppressing heat, we almost ran out of water. The Canter truck promised to pick us up around 8am in the morning after 2 nights in wonder gorge hell, but instead didn't show up until about 4pm. Luckily we had 2 bikes with us and two brave souls biked 15km to the nearest village to fill two jerry cans with water and bike them back to us. By our third day, we could barely move because of the heat, we had just drops of water left, and we were using choice words regarding the drivers of the truck who had dropped us in the middle of nowhere and were 8 hours late in coming back to retrieve us. Oh, and did I mention that someone left honey out overnight and bees were swarming everywhere? gong. show.

I am proud to say we all managed to survive our wonder gorge camping trip. But the beauty of the gorge did not equal the misery of the weekend. The best thing we took away from that trip were the stories of misery and survival. Being a peace corps volunteer in Zambia teaches you two important lessons: 1) that nothing will ever work out as its supposed to, and 2) do whatever you need to do to deal with it. Oh, and that past a certain point, things can only get better... at the very least you will always have a good story. :)

That's all I have for now. It has finally started raining! The temperature has dropped at least 10 degrees. It's my last rainy season in Zambia. Actually, it's the last change of season I'll experience here. It will probably still be raining when I fly back stateside in the spring.

Hope all is well in Americaland!

.peace&hair grease.

katie

might be a quarter-life crisis. or just a stirring in my soul.

Sorry Sorry! That's Bemba for I apologize profusely for not making a blog post since July. Turns out life here happens and gets in the way of keeping to any type of schedule or plan. ZAMBIA happens. There are power outtages in Mpika, internet network is down for a week or so, yours truly runs out of kwacha for internet use...I should stop making promises to update regularly. Suffice it to say I shall update my blog 'if the will of god insists'. Now I've truly become Zambian. :)





I'm not sure if I can fit the past 2 months of my life in one post, but at the risk of sounded long-winded I'll give it a try. My family visited for two weeks in August! We had an amazing time traveling around together and I feel so incredibly lucky that they were willing and able to embark on the gong show that is a trip to sub-saharan Africa. Zambia isn't considered the most popular of tourist destinations when it comes to relaxing, care-free travel. But the fam proved to be troopers and for most of the trip everyone was a happy camper. Literally. For the two weeks in between hug attacks in Livingstone and some tears at the Lusaka airport, we swung over gorges, slept amongst leopards and hippos (actually incredibly terrifying...armed guards circle your tent all night), traveled at night over crater-filled roads, danced in the middle of 100 villagers, drank locally brewed beer (and many a mosi lager!), soaked in hotsprings under the starry african night sky, and so much more. My family left Zambia with 3 added layers of dirt. But at least it looked like a tan. :) It was really difficult seeing them off at the airport but their visit oddly re-energized me for my final 6 months of life here. The quote of the trip came from my mom. We were sitting under my insaka on the day of the big village party. My father was in shorts with a bandana wrapped around his receding hairline (sorry dad!). My mother turned to him completely nonchalantly and stated, "Len, put your pants on and take your headdress off. The party is about to start." :)





The week following my family's visit I stayed in Lusaka to help out with training the newest group of volunteers as a Resource Volunteer. Ideally this would entail facilitating sessions every day and being busy in general...but this is Peace Corps. In Africa. Which translates to consistent schedule changes and no one really knowing what's going on at any given moment. It was nice to get to know the new volunteers, though, and I had a chance to camp over night at my homestay family's compound from when I was in training. It was crazy to see how my little host brothers grew in a year and a half, as well as carol, who was about a year old when I arrived in Zambia. They had one new addition to the family, Naomi, and I really enjoyed hanging out with them. Crazy how fast time flies!





In September I attended Ukusefya Pa Ngwena, the Bemba cultural festival that takes place annually in Kasama. We hitched a ride out to the festival in the Maximum condom truck. You know it's gonnna be a good day when that's how it begins. :) Past presidents, most notably Kenneth Kaunda, were in attendance, as well as the current vice president. I went to the festival last year and expected it to be a lot of the same types of tribal dances. However, due to the number of politicians a big chunk of the festival was speeches. In English. A language which most Zambians living out in the bush don't understand. There was some dancing in the morning, the highlight being a lady riding around in circles on a bicycle with a jug of water on her head, drinking from it with a big spoon while cycling. We tried really hard to score some free t-shirts, which we finagled(sp?) a few days later in town. But we left in the early afternoon heat to hitch-hike back to Kasama.





My treck back to the village began with a Tanzanian truck driver attempting to kidnap me and steal the birthday package from America I had just picked up at the post office in Mpika. We never discussed a price when I got into the cab of the truck, and I often get free rides to my turn-off because semi-trucks are so incredibly slow. However, this guy refused to let me out of the truck until I paid him, and as he kept driving past my junction he took my America package and threw it in the corner of the windshield. This guy should have known better than to mess with this girl on transport days. I went off on him. I was speaking really fast and using many 'french' words. But I think he got the point. I gave him some money to make him stop the truck so I could get out, but I wasn't about to go down without a fight. He's lucky I didn't smack him upside the head with my bday package. But I knew there was a chance there could be special fragile candies in there you can't find anywhere on this continent. And he was not worth the risk.



Life in the village as of late has been just ok. I've been trying to work with my agricultural officer in hopes of meeting some farmers groups and possibly doing some composting and permagarden workshops. I've also met with the headteacher at the basic school and we are hoping to put together an IGA (income-generating activity) workshop with the P.T.A. Much like the Rural Health Center, the school doesn't receive adequate funding from the government so they need to organize activities in the community to help them raise money for basic materials like chalk and paper. Right now they work a maize field but I am trying to link them with the local agricultural officer to possibly start up a chicken coup. Yet I think I reached the pinnacle of my frustrations with development work in the village a few weeks ago. I was meeting with some farmers in another village not too far from mine. I was helping them with an action plan, and they were coming up with the resources needed for activities they were planning. With each resource they had to also write where it was coming from. They had one column for internal resources, those that are contributed by the community, and one column for external resources such as coming from Mpika. Instead they kept turning to me and saying "you will give us this, and you will give us that". You would think that after a year and a half living in the village, not handing out money or resources but instead trying to link people to them, that I would not be seen as a walking dollar sign anymore. Sadly that's not the case, and I'm beginning to think that I never should have expected that mentality to change. By doing so I was setting myself up for frustration. What disappoints me the most is when the same people I have been working with for so long continually expect me to just give them things, as if my hut is a bank, money grows on my mango trees, and I'm hoarding valuable resources under my bed. What gets me through the times when I want to throw in the towel and head home is dinner with my neighbors when we end up singing and dancing; the simple beauty of mud-hut living; and coming to the point where I cycle through my village and everyone knows my name and greets me a smile. I've fallen in love with Zambia. But I've lost a lot of my passion for development projects at the rural level. If a well-educated Zambian isn't willing to live in the bush for two years and work with the rural clinic to educate people on basic healthcare, then what am I doing? This country will only develop when those who are fortunate enough to have received a good education realize that Lusaka Zambia and rural Zambia are two separate countries. Foreign aid is useless unless the citizens of a country are willing to help eachother out. My main counterpart, the clinic In-Charge/Midwife is amazing. He is one of the most active members of the community, is well-trusted, well-educated, and works really hard to make small changes at the very rural level. My personal belief is that Zambia could use less american peace corps volunteers and more people like him.



Right now it looks like I'll be returning to the states in April/May. I believe my 'close of service' date is April 21st, but that can always change. I would love to do a little bit of traveling before flying home but will cross that bridge when I get to it. If I do travel it probably won't be for very long. I'd like to make it up to Rwanda and Uganda, but if I don't that's ok too. Where I really want to be right now is back in America. :) I am anxious to get back and try to figure out my life. But I'm too stubborn to leave Zambia early, I know it would be difficult to get a job right now stateside, and through all the ups and downs I'm still happy over here. I'm not quite ready to leave just yet.

A few weeks ago I was biking out of my village when I noticed a man about 50 meters ahead of me on the path look up into a big tree on the side of the path and immediately start running. I could see some object moving up in the tree, too large to be a bird but definitely not an animal...once I reached the tree I looked up and saw something I'll never forget. A man had braced himself up in the tree. He was wearing a cape and a string bikini/loin cloth. He was picking fruits from the tree, pounding them on the trunk, and staring right at me. Keep in mind that it was around 5:30/6 in the morning. I greeted him in bemba while preparing myself to haul ass if he jumped down. I had my headphones in and was listening to music, but I'm pretty sure his response was 'mpeleniko 3pin' (give me 3,000 kwacha). I thought he might decide to begin target practice with the fruits so I took off and never looked back at crazy. But I continued to laugh about this incident for another 2 hours and the rest of my day on transport. How can I leave this country early and miss out on random events like this one that make me feel like I'm in the twilight zone? :)

So it's the thick of hot season here. And believe me sub-saharan africa doesn't mess around in the hot season. It is HOT. I tend to rise and shine a good 2 hours earlier than during the rest of the year. It's pretty scorching by 7/8, so I try to get up around 5:30/6 to run.

Some random noteables:

I think my dog is knocked up. For real this time. She was in heat last month and a steady stream of male suitors came to my compound to try and get with her. It was extremely intriguing, but also pretty gross. Needless to say, according to science, she has got to be pregnant by now.

Also, I was lucky to celebrate my 25th birthday with friends in Kasama. We made delicious pizza. But before eating it, we sent someone outside with it, called them, and had them deliver it. It was nice because we had coupons. :) The next night about 8 of us camped at the hotsprings. It was luvly. :)

Amy Odland, one of my friends from college, is flying in TODAY to visit me for a month! I spent the weekend in Lusaka with my 3 best friends in the country, and we are all headed to Livingstone today for bunjee jumping, rafting, gorge swings, ziplines, booze cruises...as much fun as we can pack into two days down there. Then it's a couple weeks of traveling around Zambia with Amy and up to Tanzania in November to meet up with another friend from college, climb Mt. Meru and return to the paradise of Zanzibar for a few days. :) aaahhhh.... life here is rough. wink!

I hope life in Americaland is good. Yay for Obama and peace. :) All my luv from the land of Zam!

katie

Surf & Sand in Namibia

Good morning from Lusaka! I am down here in the city of dreams to say goodbye to Becky, one of my best friends here, who has decided to end her service early and will be flying back to the states for good on Friday :( I don't know if I would have made it through my first few months in Zambia without her. She is also a Minnesota soccer girl so we were pretty much instant friends from the beginning, and I am really sad to see her go. But I know she's happy with her decision and really relieved to be going back to a country where life just seems a bit easier at this point...



I , however, am still enjoying living here despite the constant craziness, ups and downs, stomach 'issues' (that's what we'll call them), weird infections, and 3-hour bike rides under the hot African sun. As I watch the sun go down while cooking dinner over hot coals every night and smell the sweet smoke from small fires burning throughout the village I realize that this place is going to be incredibly difficult to leave. I know that I'll be ready to return home to the states in April, but my village in Zambia has become a second home that will be hard to say goodbye to. I definitely anticipate experiencing a bit of homesickness for Chitumbi village following my peace corps service.



So my most recent adventure was to Namibia over Independence Day. It began with a 24-hour bus ride to Windhoek, the capital city, where the weather was at least 20 degrees cooler than in Zambia. I traveled with Becky and Jules, 2 other volunteers who live in Luapula Province, and immediately upon arrival we had to go shopping for warmer clothes. Lucky for us, Windhoek could easily be mistaken for a European city with its beautiful architecture as well as its amenities and offerings. The more I travel, the more I realize that I live in the 'ghetto' of Southern Africa...and by that I mean the country that has probably experienced the least amount of developmental changes and improvements since their independence. The roads are terrible, solid infrastructure is almost nonexistent, and corruption runs rampant. But the truth remains that it has been my home for the past year and a half and I still feel a sense of comfort and relief when returning back to Zambia. At least here I expect every day to be a gong show, and if it isn't I find myself surprised if not a bit confused. My standards have been thrown out the window in almost every facet of life, and I am happy to say I will return to the states one of the most easily pleased persons in the world. As I've mentioned before, Zambians are beautiful people with so much strength both physically and spiritually...and that rare beauty is one of the only consistencies I have come to rely on every day that I wake up in Zambia.



So back to Namibia...we froze our butts off for 2 days in Windhoek before heading to Swakopmund, a small coastal town closely resembling the gulf coast of Florida. We stayed at a lodge for a few days, went running in the mornings on the beach, enjoyed cute little coffee shops with delicious breakfasts, rode ATVs through the desert dunes and even tried our hand at sandboarding. We rented a 4x4 truck for 6 days, fully-equipped with a tent on top and all the camping equipment we could ever wish for. They should post peace corps volunteers with one of these trucks! We camped on the beach a few nights and also drove to Sussusvlei, where watching the sun rise over the highest dunes in Namibia is known throughout the world as a life-changing experience. We camped right outside the national park and woke at 4:30 a.m. to drive to one of the highest dunes, hike to the top, and sit overlooking the desert to watch the sun rise. The bold contrasting colors of the sand and sky are themselves indescribable, and it is an experience I could never forget.

Yet my favorite part of the trip was camping right along the beach. We found ourselves on the 4th of July looking out over the atlantic ocean, watching dolphins swimming and jumping right off the coast, sipping on wine around a campfire in the sand while the sun set. What better way to celebrate freedom? :)

We stopped in Livingstone en route to Lusaka on our return back up north, spending a day rafting on the Zambezi followed by a sunset booze cruise. Rafting was pretty hardcore, beginning with a long steep hike down the gorge. Becky, myself, and one other man were the only Americans, and thus the only ones in our group of about 50 people to jump into the icy cold rapids multiple times. There was one time when our guide told us we could jump in and 'float' feet forward down a particular rapid. Of course I jumped right in, immediately regretting that decision. The water was icy, I could barely breathe because the waves kept splashing over me, and I got caught on the wrong side of the river in a whirlpool spinning around to what I thought might just be my death...until from out of nowhere my guide appeared like an angel and pulled me back into the raft. Needless to say, after about 4 hours of paddling through rapids I was looking forward to an ice cold beer (or 2) while watching the african sunset from a slow-moving boat cruise. We ended up seeing an entire herd of elephants drinking water on the bank of the river, giraffes, and hippos during the 3-hour cruise. Once I returned to my site I had some of the most amazing nights of sleep I've had in awhile. I had a great time on my trip, as always when traveling through southern Africa, but it always puts a smile on my face to finally cycle into my village after being away, arriving home again. :)

Upon my return to Zambia I learned that I would be hosting new volunteers at my site for 3 nights. The newest intake of volunteers (new volunteers come every 6 months) arrived in my village the evening of July 26th and returned to Lusaka to begin training on July 29th. The first visit to a volunteer's site is a way for the newbies to see what life in the village is all about before they begin training. They can defecate in a hole, help draw water, take a bucket bath, and cook over a fire. I recently built a fire pit in my yard so for two nights we sat around a blazing fire and talked into the night. They had so many questions, as I did when i first arrived, and it was a bit overwhelming with 6 of them but my friend Claire traveled up to my site to help out with hosting. We showed them how to cook delicious meals while lacking a variety of foods, how to greet people in Bemba, and even went in search of elephants one day. We never saw the elephants, but did manage to see their destructive path through a neighboring village as well as the big loads of elephant poop they left behind. I also took them to my rural clinic one morning, where my counterpart, Mr. Chikwaba, spoke with them about the challenges faced by the clinic as well as the successes they have experienced.

We spent the third night of their visit camping at the hotsprings about 60km from my site. During the cold season in mountainous Northern Zambia, there is nothing like soaking in a natural jacuzzi at night while gazing up at the stars through the palm trees. I had a great time talking with them about what's new in the states, what they are excited and nervous about in Zambia, and just getting to know each of them. The funniest thing was how clean they were. Their bags were still spotless, and I still noticed them washing their hands every 5 minutes. After being here for a year and a half, I manage to wash my hands very sporadically, usually in my dirty dish water that I'll use consistently for an average of 3 days before tossing out... wait a second, am I really a health volunteer? :) It was so nice to have visitors to my site, as I am so far out that it very rarely happens. It makes me even more excited for my family to come in less than 2 weeks!! I am meeting them in Livingstone on August 10th and the 2 weeks they will spend in Zambia promise to be both crazy and amazing. I can't wait for them to experience the daily gong show of my life here...hard to believe I haven't seem them in a year and a half. Time flies when you're having fun...I'll be finishing up my service in less than 8 months.

I hope everyone had a good 4th of July back stateside. It was hard to miss out on fireworks and parades...and as I sat on the beach in Namibia I thought of all the fun summertime celebrations going on along another coast of the atlantic. I am still loving life here, although it can be a nightmare at times. I miss my family, I miss my friends, and I miss the familiarity of my culture. I also miss ordering pizza, taking hot showers, and drinking good coffee...but I'm pretty sure I can stick it out until springtime. I know when I get back I'll miss carrying my water and squatting over a hole...oh wait... ;)

.peace&luv.

katie

It's the morning of June 16th in Mpika. I'm sitting at my usual internet cafe as the world wakes up outside. Before arriving here, I sat under the verandah at my favorite restaurant, sipping on a cup of coffee and eating a hearty breakfast of fruit and biscuits, observing the tiny shop vendor across the street hang the used closed she sells that have worn out their use as hand-me-downs in countries oceans away. Cantor trucks and bicycles passed by packed with goods and people, and of course there were some near-accidents as they noticed the blindingly white blonde sitting just off the side of the road. Although I enjoy the usual sound of birds and straight-up nature that accompany my rising out of bed in the village, sometimes its nice to be in a place where you can witness the daily interactions of shop-owners and businessmen and women, a place where the pace of life is just a bit faster and you see people working together to get by in what promises to be another beautiful, sunny african day.

I'm staying in Mpika for a couple days to check in with different NGOs and work on some projects. I believe I've written about NZP+ in previous posts, but they are a wonderful organization in Zambia that works with those who are HIV+, helping to support them in living positively while also doing work in prevention and battling social stigma. One thing I've realized I'm very passionate about is providing support to those living with HIV and AIDS. Slowly, slowly I have been working with certain members of my community to create Lufila Support Group. They only have 4 members right now, but I'm working on linking the group with NZP+ so that there can be more sensitisation in the community and the group can be registered officially with a reputable organization in Mpika in order to strengthen and build their own group capacity. Two members of the support group are Mary and Michael Chamanga. A few weeks ago I invited them to my hut for lunch and they told me their story. Michael was an engineer in Lusaka who was forced to retire when he found out he was HIV+. Him and Mary then decided to move back to the bush, where they farm for the little income they are able to acquire, barely enough to make bi-yearly visits to Mpika District Hospital to get their CD4 counts. They rely solely on the Lufila Clinic in-charge (my main counterpart, Mr. Chikwaba) to transport their medicine the 120km from Mpika. It's about a half-day's journey from their home to the clinic...and they have been diagnosed with a virus that will eventually kill them as it has countless others this side of the globe. Yet this is a fact they make so easy to forget immediately upon meeting them. They are two of the most strong-willed and well-educated people I have met in my community. They not only look physically strong, but they have a spirit that communicates to the world around them that they will not be so easily defeated. They are the model of what it means to battle social stigma and live positively, and a source of inspiration not only for those who are sick but for others like myself who have the privilege of their trust and friendship. I've been seeing them more consistently as we work together to build and strengthen the first support group of Lufila catchment area. :)

It's officially cold season here in Zambia. I didn't realize how much of a debbie downer rainy season is until the clouds blew away, the sun started shining, and the rains subsided. Of course, in the next month they'll start burning the country but for a small window of time the weather is perfect. It's comparable to early september weather in minnesota, but it lasts for 3 months and I plan to never take it for granted again. Come November, the rains will start again, and a general lack of motivation to work on anything but farming throughout Zambia. Right now, people are motivated to do community work and all the meetings I had in my first year of service of finally bringing about action and associated results. Along with the support group, I am working with Mr. Chikwaba on a possible proposal for a computer for the rural clinic. I have also been working with HBC(home-based care)/OVC(orphans and vulnerable children) club as they draft a proposal to ZNAN(Zambia National AIDS Network) that focuses on providing support to those living with HIV/AIDS. At the mid-term conference in Lusaka, we had the opportunity to participate in a permaculture workshop with a guy who works for the Peace Corps in Tanzania. He taught us how to implement 'perma-gardens', small-scale sustainable agricultural practices, in our communities in order to improve food security as well as basic nutrition at the very rural level. We got dirty making compost piles, double-digging, and working on our own sample garden at the Peace Corps office in Lusaka. I loved it. I returned to my site axe and hoe in hand, hoping to start my own garden before the next rainy season. I also am planning to work with the agricultural officer in my community to do some workshops on composting and more sustainable agricultural practices in general that are guaranteed to lead to higher crop yields. We all know the agonizingly slow process of behavior change...but it's worth a shot.

I returned to my village after the mid-term conference in Lusaka to find out that my dog is knocked up. Oh man, once those puppies come I might as well just tell everyone I'll be MIA for a week playing with them in my hut. :) My neighbors have already laid claim to 2 of them, and various other community members want an offspring of Imbalala as well. True to her Zambian nature, my dog, although preggers, still manages to accompany me on my daily runs...never failing to make me feel a bit out of shape... The gestation period for dogs is 63 days so I believe she should give birth sometime in July or August, as she isn't showing much yet.

Since I've been in Mpika I've been staying a guesthouse where I've been able to watch the Confederations Cup on television every night. Watching soccer only makes me realize how much I miss playing it. I also forgot how beautiful footballers are. (wink!) I wish everyone back in the states got as pumped about this amazing sport as they do over here in Africa. Because here it's not just a sport, it's integrated into the fabric of life.

I've also been busy working with some other volunteers on planning a girls' empowerment camp we hope to put on next December. I'll write more about it later, and I believe I've mentioned it before. If we can pull it off, I believe it will be an experience that is unmatched for the girls able to attend from our villages.

Sorry this post has been kind of all over the place. Such is my mind these days...I hope you all are enjoying the summer wherever you may be. :) I'm headed to Namibia over the 4th of July with a couple friends. Hitchhiking, camping, driving along the coast, and maybe trying my hand at sandboarding...promises to be another memorable Independence Day!

Stay well.

.Peace&Luv.

Katie

adventures in china

I just returned from a 2-week trip to Shanghai, where the city never sleeps, the fake version of every designer is right at your fingertips, and you can find cheap, greasy chinese food on every corner...along with a starbucks :) Liz Frederick and Nick Anderson, two of my friends from college, are both teaching english over there while also holding onto a variety of other jobs. They were both recently on a reality t.v. show called Shanghai Rush (China version of The Amazing Race), they work at a restaurant, Nick does some modeling (no big thang :) ), and Liz also does some writing and editing for a newspaper. They are definitely living a life that's just slightly different from mine in the african bush... The fact that they have both lived there for 2 years made all the difference. They took us to the best restaurants and clubs, we saw temples and gardens right in the middle of the city, took a few overnight trips to gorgeous mountains and lakes, and got to go to starbucks on a daily basis! We also met a lot of their friends from all over the globe, even one guy from Zambia. They knew the best places to go and how to get there. We would have been completely lost without them. Among our various adventures were sleeping in the lobby of a hostel because there was no room at any inn, getting a facial and massage at a swanky spa, ordering pizza(another product of lazy american culture...love it) and watching pirated dvds all night, spending 4 hours exploring the 4 levels of the 'fake market', where you can get everything from Fendi shoes to Tiffany's jewelry to Prada bags at a fraction of the price (all knock-offs of course, but who knows besides you?), and sharing a bottle of wine on a bed on the roof of the Hyatt Regency in shanghai while looking over the night lights of the never-ending city. For two weeks we soaked up as much of the glamorous life as we could before coming back to flip-flops and mud huts.

The first thing I noticed upon arrival in the big city is that people weren't staring at me. The chinese seemed to go about their business (maybe glancing at me once because I'm taller than them with blonde hair) without really caring what I was up to. They seem to be really friendly toward foreigners but not in awe of them, whereas Zambians are interested in everything you are doing, and will stare at you without restriction as if you have an arm growing out the side of your head. I also noticed that the chinese, although interested and intrigued by western people and culture, display a deep pride in their country. Of course there is government control, but the chinese seemed to love china and have a deep appreciation and respect for its culture and traditions. Having lived in Zambia for a little over a year, I have found the lack of Zambian pride in Zambia to be a major source of frustration. I realize I'm making generalizations here, but Zambians are so intrigued by western culture that it is as if they want to be western. They try to look 'progressive' by wearing western clothes and hanging out with foreigners. Many Zambians I have met in Lusaka will speak about villagers living in the bush as backwards and ignorant. Its tragic when the westernization of this country attempts to erase its culture and traditions as if they aren't good enough anymore. I've previously written about a Zambia that is caught between two worlds, this dichotomy being the root of the problem of development here. Traveling to china made this Zambian psyche even more apparent to me. It also forces me to once again ask myself what good I am doing here, and if I should even be here. I know that Zambia needs to figure things out on its own and develop in its own way, but I can't help believing that I can do good by providing even the slightest little push in my community. I stay because I believe that Zambians should be proud of their culture and traditions, but that babies shouldn't be dying from diarrhea due to lack of clean water. I stay because I believe that when Zambians are empowered to stick up for themselves and demand more from their leaders, this country will change for the better, and I want so badly to witness that empowerment at the grassroots level, where I believe it should begin.

Being in China made me realize what I take for granted back in the states, allowing me to appreciate it so much more. I enjoyed taking a hot shower every morning and being able to blowdry my hair afterward...while also having a mirror to look in. I made full use of the coffee maker (what a marvelous invention!), slept like a baby on a spring mattress, enjoyed running water and electricity, and realized all over again what a huge fan I am of the sandwich. :) Of course, I appreciate the simple way of living in the bush and I missed the beauty of the blue sky and starry nights of Africa as well as the smell of wood burning as women cook over a fire and the sound of children singing throughout the village as the sun sets. Yet there's a different kind of beauty in a city, experienced as you look out over the span of apartment buildings and sky-scrapers and know that 20 million people are going about their everyday lives just as you are. There is beauty in the hush of steady traffic, in the flashing lights on buildings, in the ordered chaos of the city streets and sidewalks.

Now it's back to the african bush for me, and less than a year to go! In one week I'll be back down in Lusaka for mid-term conference and medical check-ups, then possibly making a trip down to Victoria Falls before getting back to work in the village. I'm praying my hut is still standing... the rains seem to have subsided and its back to beautiful sunny days...every day...here in Zamland. I hope you all are experiencing lovely weather as summertime approaches! I'll try to write again soon!

.peace&luv.

katie

You know you're a PCV in Zambia when...

Here's a list I've been working on in my hut from time to time...enjoy!

You Know You're a Peace Corps Volunteer in Zambia when...

1) You don't think twice about going potty in a plastic bag at night to avoid leaving your hut.

2) 30km is considered a 'pretty short' distance.

3) You hoard plastic Shoprite bags for their superior 'quality' in the world of plastic bags. a.k.a. you've become a crazy bag lady.

4) You have to resist the temptation to interior decorate with doilies.

5) You will drink and enjoy anything that is cold.

6) You refer to any home with bars on the windows as 'very fancy'. Glass windows are just way out of your league.

7) If your lap is empty on transport, there is always room for more people.

8) You immediately lose your ability to estimate distances, and waving your hand toward a certain place is considered giving directions.

9) You will go days without bathing because you honestly consider wet wipes to be a healthy alternative.

10) The word 'odi' makes you cringe. (Zambians say this before they enter your house...I guess it's equivalent to knocking on your door? Yet they tend to yell it loudly at 5:00 a.m. while also pounding on your door or even your window. The worst part is there is no Bemba word to tell them not to enter.)

11) If a problem arises, your first reaction is a single big long sigh.

12) You secretly enjoy some ZamPop. (Zambian pop music...tends to be pretty tragic)

13) Your menstrual cycle coincides with the moon cycles.

14) Spiders are no longer the enemy, but your trusted ally in the constant battle against bugs.

15) You carry toilet paper on you wherever you go.

on a related note...

16) You've had to wipe with Zambian Kwacha sans T.P. on more than one occasion.

17) You enjoy eating Nshima (cornmeal, staple Zambian food) and even crave it and order it at restaurants.

18) You've become used to being sexually harrassed on a daily basis.

19) Basically you have no shame. You can never act more crazy than Zambians already think you are. :)

20) You may or may not have multiple W.A.D.'s (Wierd African Disease the actual medical classification for unexplained diseases picked up in Africa)



I'm sure there will be many more to add in year 2 of my service...I'll try to keep updating. :)

That's all I've got for now...much luv to you all from zambia! Take care and happy easter!

katie

halfway there, livin' on prayer :)

It's about 3:30 a.m. and I find myself still staring at the computer screen at the peace corps office in lusaka, still completely in awe of fast, free internet. I'm 'illegally' crashing here for the night not just to save a little money on lodging but to get through a looong list of things I need to accomplish on this computer in the 48 hours I'll be down in the big city.

I came down here from up north with my friend Joan to go to the Chinese Embassy and apply for our travel visas to China. We will be traveling over to that side of the world in a few weeks, visiting Liz, my roommate from college, who is working in Shanghai. Our trip is 2 weeks along, and the itinerary includes Shanghai, Beijing, and a few other places along the way. :) I am so excited to see what her life is like over there, and it is a part of the world where I have no idea what to expect. It promises to be another crazy adventure travel adventure! I've recently become convinced that Peace Corps is America's best kept secret with all of the traveling I have been able to do. And as far as the work I am doing in my village, I finally feel that I know where I fit into the whole 'system' of development work at the grassroots level, at least in my remote corner of Zambia. I've been working a lot with community groups, helping them with things such as group management, developing trainings, IGA formation (Income Generating Activities), action planning, proposal-writing, etc. I helped my clinical officer and 2 members of the anti-AIDS club/youth group facilitate a week-long Lifeskills training for the club. It was a TOT, or training of trainers, as we were teaching the youth (mostly 17-22 years of age) how to be effective peer educators in the community. We discussed relationship, communication, and leadership skills, as well as principles of behavior change and how to be effective role models to other youth in the community. There was a large HIV/AIDS education component as well. I think that as a whole the training went pretty well. I experienced a lot of frustration with the girls in the group who refused to participate and would only giggle when it came to talking about serious topics. One of the female teachers from the school in my community, Mrs. Chisanga, whom I really respect and admire as a community leader, joined us to facilitate a session on the importance of education in Zambia. She spoke about how students need to realize the opportunities that can open up to them if they can pass their grade 9 exams and go on to high school. I learned that only one student passed their grade 9 exam at the basic school in my community last term. ONE. The students aren't holding themselves accountable for their learning, yet they are also stuck in an education system that is failing them. Mrs. Chisanga said that she offers to work with kids outside of class and to help them study, but very few take her up on her offers. She finds herself especially frustrated with the girls in her grade 8 class, who refuse to participate or take anything seriously in front of the other boys in the class. Girls become pregnant at the age of 14 and drop out of school, while the boys who have helped to place them in that situation continue on with their schooling and thus have a chance to leave the village and further their studies. Mrs. Chisanga made a strong argument to the girls that taking their education seriously affords them options in life; opportunities unavailable to them in the village. If they want to become pregnant and continue to live on their family's compound for the rest of their life, that is ok, but at least have it be the life they consciously chose for themselves. Instead of looking up to Mrs. Chisanga as a strong, well-educated woman in the village, the girls seem to resent the fact that she pushes them to expect more from themselves. My hope is just that she continues to push, regardless of the resistance. Zambia could use a lot more women like her.

I recently finished reading the book, "The Invisible Cure" and believe that if you truly want to begin to understand the spread of HIV in Africa and what can possibly be done to combat it you must read this book. Its focus is on concurrent partnerships in Africa and how relationship patterns and networks in sub-saharan Africa create an ideal environment for the spread of the disease. It also speaks a lot to African-initiated groups and strategies, particularly in Uganda, that have been successful in significantly reducing HIV incidence. I thought the book was brilliant and highly recommend it. It's given me a lot of ideas with regards to working with HIV aids patients in the community, as I hope to aid in the creation of a support group as well as increase sensitisation throughout the community.

There has been a lot of drama in my village lately regarding the recent witch hunt and accompanying witch trials coordinated by a witch doctor brought all the way up from Mpika to rid the community of black magic. Following the funeral of my neighbor's child, whom was believed to have been 'bewitched' by a member of the community, my village headman defended someone who was accused of performing black magic. Shortly afterward, the accused person fled the village, apparently making my headman look guilty, and he was severely beaten at his home in the middle of the day. I saw him at the clinic and he looked horrible. He was sent to the hospital in Mpika to recover, but is an incredibly old man (in a country where the average life span is 34) and I'm not sure when he'll be able to return to the village. The police came to conduct an investigation, but I'm not sure of the results yet. I have talked to friends and people I work with in the village regarding my safety and chances of being accused, and they laugh it off and say that I'm ok. (knock on wood!) They talk about it as if it is no big deal, but clearly it is taken very seriously by many community members, and I hope the intensity of the situation fades with the rains.

I returned from the paradise that is Zanzibar about a month ago, and really enjoyed traveling by train to Tanzania! It was interesting to see the stark differences in the 'development' of the two countries. Tanzania seemed to be a lot more 'put together' than Zambia; it was noticably more organized not only in its economy but in the look and feel of its towns and cities. Zambia is a nation full of Christians, while Tanzania has a strong muslim influence. I loved hearing the call to prayer from the roof of our hostel on the island, and Zanzibar itself was an island rich with history and a mixture of influences. The music festival began at sundown each night, so we spent our days exploring stonetown, going on a spice tour, checking out the shops, and enjoying drinks on the picturesque, 'screensaver' beaches. Smoking sheesha is very popular there, and we enjoyed a variety of exotic flavors as we passed around the communal hookah. The last night of the festival, which featured east african music, was at Kendwa Rocks, along the north shore of the island. We relocated up there for a few nights, staying in a lovely hostel practically right on the beach. We attended the all-night festival finale on the water, and were able to arrange a sunset cruise on a dhow sail boat, as well as snorkeling. There were probably close to 60 Peace Corps volunteers from Zambia who attended the festival, and apparently over 200 Africa PC volunteers in all who travelled to the island for the week, and it was nice to meet people from other areas. There were around 30 of us traveling together on the train, which went through a game park along the journey so we were able to see giraffes, elephants, monkeys, impala, etc. from the windows of the train. Our train arrived too late into Dar for us to make the last ferry to the island, so about 15 of us managed to charter a flight on a small plane. We flew into Zanzibar just as the sun was setting, still in shock that we miraculously managed, as peace corps volunteers, to arrive in such style. The price was not much more than the ferry, and I think someone was looking out for us up in that African sky... :) But the universe quickly caught up with us on the train ride back to Zambia, when the engine seperated from the train cars, making us technically a runaway train until they were able to pull the emergency break on the cars, leading ultimately to our almost 10-hour delay getting back to Bembaland. Of course, I was taking a shower at the time and was hurled against the wall as the train screeched to a halt, splitting my chin open. Hmmm...it always seems like the closer in proximity I get to Zambia when returning from travel, the more things start to go wrong and the more delays there are. Such is life. :) This is how you make memories, right? ;) I've accumulated a variety of scars so far on this continent, each accompanied by a pretty ridiculous story...and I wouldn't trade them for the world. :)

It's now almost 5 a.m. in Lusaka and the sun is going to start rising soon...which means this girl needs to get some shut-eye before the long bus ride up north tonight. I hope you all are well, and I continue to miss you more than you know. Enjoy your spring breaks and hopefully the returning warm weather and sunshine! Much luv from the land of Zam!
.peace.
katie

It's funny how used to being alone one can become here. Living in a mud hut by yourself forces your independence and subsequently sharpens your ability to entertain yourself and have full-out conversations with yourself in your head. I do have friends in my village and am lucky to be surrounded by a very warm and welcoming community. I also have established good working relationships with counterparts. But at the end of the day, it's just me cooking dinner over my brazier, reading by candlelight, saying goodnight to pets, and crawling into bed around 8 or 9pm. I wake up in the morning by myself, again light up my brasier for coffee and oats, and am perfectly content spending the day reading in my hammock if there is no work to do. What started out as a feeling of intense loneliness has evolved into a comfort with being alone, and I have learned so much about myself in that process. And feeling more comfortable with myself in my village had lead to feeling more comfortable around Zambians, as I feel I've gained a quiet confidence that took me a year to build.

I just got back from Lusaka early this morning. I had to go down to the big city to pick up my work permit that FINALLY arrived in the country almost a year after my arrival here. I took the night bus down on Wednesday and came back to Mpika on the night bus last night. There were a couple of volunteers there on other business, so it was nice to go out to dinner and catch up with them. For the most part, though, I did a little shopping, took advantage of free internet at the Peace Corps office, and hung out with myself. I went to see a movie ('Yes Man', pretty cute!) and enjoyed eating subway and ice cream. :) I wanted to get back up to Mpika by today, as I am planning on visiting the orphanage here with Jeana. The lady who runs it is Zambian but spent a lot of time in the UK. She returned wanting to give something back to her country and she sounds like a smart, educated Zambian woman. She is of course always looking for assistance with all the children, so I'm hoping to volunteer 1-2 saturdays per month.

I am also planning to watch the superbowl tomorrow (at about 3am) with some other pcvs at a guest house in Mpika. I just hope I can stay awake!

As far as new updates from the village (because we all know how exciting life can be out in the bush...;) ) North Luangwa national park sent some scouts to my area to hunt the crocodiles. Someone was recently attacked while crossing a bridge that's pretty close to my part of the river. Yikes! Apparently Crocodile Hunter should have done a show in my village...

I attended my first funeral in the village. My neighbor's 3-month old baby passed away the other night. Know one knows the cause of death but some seem to be attributing it to witchcraft...not uncommon in these parts. It was an all-night affair but they just came and got me in the morning to pay my respects. I laid awake in my hut almost all night listening to singing, chanting, wailing, and drumming. It was an experience like no other I've ever had to sit among my entire village surrounding a tiny coffin while women paced around wailing and screaming and religious leaders read from the bible. It was a beautiful morning in Zambia, one to be spent harvesting in the fields; the community would morn yet another premature death, then return to life as they know it. That wasn't the first child's death in my community since I've been here, and it won't be the last. Death is by no means taken lightly here, and a woman who loses her baby here mourns just as much as any other mother across the world faced with such a loss. The difference is that death becomes a harsh reality here much sooner. People are forced to deal with it much more often, yet power and intensity of their mourning is unwavering with each funeral. I can't begin to describe the energy that morning at my neighbor's hut, but will always remember the stinging, desperate pain in not only my neighbor's eyes, but on the faces of the community as they gathered to feel that pain alongside her.

I miss you all so much and hope all is well back in the states. I'm sending you lots of love from Zamland, and am trying to keep up with this blog more often. Take care!

Katie

Still Alive!

Wow, has it really been almost 3 months since my last post?! I am so sorry that I've failed to keep up with this blog lately. Honestly, I've been traveling around like crazy, hardly in one place longer than a week. And it doesn't look like I'll be settling down any time soon...

I guess the holiday season came and went since I last wrote. My closest friends in the Peace Corps, 4 other girls from my intake and also in northern province, came to visit me at my site about a week before Thanksgiving. I met them at my turn-off on the great north road and we biked from there to my hut, where we spent two nights before biking about 5 hours through the bush to Danielle's site in Katibunga. It was white people on parade through the ancient african bush! With our peace corps sanctioned helmets we were probably quite a spectacle. We spent 3 nights in Danielle's village before biking across the mountains back to the Great North Road. From there we hitched a ride to Mpika, then up to Kasama for Thanksgiving. Rainy season was just getting started in November so of course we got completely drenched as we rode from my site to Danielle's, arriving at her village a muddy mess. We then attempted to bathe in her river...which was also full of mud. Luckily we were all able to stink up Danielle's hut together. :) I have to say though, the image of the ominous, dark thunderheads we were riding into coming up over the mountains as we biked through the valley will always be frozen in my mind.

Our Peace Corps provincial meetings happened to fall the day before Thanksgiving, and the two staff who travelled up from Lusaka came bearing gifts: 2 turkeys and multiple bottles of wine. God bless america and its huge eating sprees...all 25 of us volunteers in Northern Province helped created a delicious Thanksgiving feast, which we shared with the guards at the house, our house keeper, and also the provincial general service officer and his family. (All Zambian). I'm pretty sure they enjoyed the food immensely, even if it definitely did not include nshima.

Danielle and I were voted onto VAC at the provincial meetings, the PC Volunteer Advisory Committee. It's comparable to a student council, but for the Peace Corps. Every 6 months we travel down to Lusaka and meet with 3 volunteers from every other province along with Lusaka staff and discuss a variety of issues ranging from bike problems to provincial house rules to changes in vacation forms...etc. It's a way for Lusaka staff and volunteers to connect, so volunteers can better understand what goes on in Lusaka and Peace Corps staff can remember what it's like to be a volunteer living in the bush.

In the beginning of December I traveled to Lusaka for a week to participate in a training development workshop for the new health project in Zambia. I am a part of the CAHP health project right now, and the other health project in Zambia is called HAP and deals mainly with HIV/AIDS. Peace Corps has decided to combine the two health projects into one, more comprehensive project, and they wanted input from volunteers in the field on what the training for that new project should look like. It was arduous and, at times, very tedious work, but it was a great opportunity to work with the training officer and other staff to develop a cohesive project that hopes to be more effective than the separate projects as they currently are.

While down in the big city, I decided to take advantage of access to the PC Medical officers and had my stomach checked out. Turns out I was harboring a bacteria in my stomach from my river water...the consequences of which I'll spare you the details. :) They gave me antibiotics, told me to boil my water from now on, and sent me on my way. I finished the antibiotics and now boil, chlorinate, and filter all of my drinking water...and it's made a world of difference. Turns out boiling your water isn't too tough. The hardest part is just waiting for it to cool....which I'd take any day over spending quality time in my pit latrine. :(

Christmas creeped up on me, and at that point I was so ready for a break from this country. I was so tired of biking to meetings and one person showing up, and the cultural differences were frustrating me more than ever. I knew that I would either come back from south africa with a much better outlook on life here, or I would have a tough decision to make come January. Fortunately for me it was the former. It's taken me almost a year to get to the point where I come into my village and feel the familiarity of arriving home. People in my village welcomed me back with smiles, wishing me a merry xmas and a happy new year. I stayed almost 2 weeks in my village before traveling down to Mpika yesterday to watch the presidential inauguration, and they were 2 weeks where I felt more comfortable and more happy in general while in my village than I have in a long time. I'm still attempting to teach one of my neighbor's English, and the other day we broke out into "head, shoulders, knees, and toes" in my hut. Crazy how children in a rural village in Zambia sing the same tune most Americans learn in Kindergarten. I really have no idea what I'm doing, flying by the seat of my pants and making up lessons as I go...but it's all about the small victories, and she is helping me with my Bemba at the same time.

I also am working right now with some of my clinic staff, developing a Life Skills training which we hope to do the first week of February. We are training the youth anti-AIDS club in facilitation on subjects such as HIV transmission, HIV/AIDS and human rights, early pregnancy, alcohol abuse, living Positively with AIDS, etc. It's great to see one of the younger clinic staff specifically take ownership of the sessions he will facilitate during the training, and I'm happy to have the opportunity to work with him and other leaders of the anti-AIDS club.

I am also trying to collaborate with an NGO in Mpika called NZP+ (Network of Zambians Living Positively). They advocate living positively with HIV/AIDS and do a lot of community health education relating to HIV/AIDS. Their staff is really helpful and they do some great work out in the bush, so I'm really hoping to develop a good working relationship with them and ultimately try to form a support group for people who are positive in my community.

Some other volunteers and I are hoping to organize and implement a week-long camp for the empowerment of girls sometime in 2009. It's called camp GLOW (girls leading our world) and has been successfully organized by PC volunteers in the past. We are just in the beginning planning stages, but if we can pull it off I think it will be one of the best things we will have contributed to this country in our 2-year service.

I traveled to Cape Town, South Africa for Christmas and New Year's and had way too much fun. :) It's one of the most beautiful places I've ever been, and although the best way to spend the holidays is with family, I was lucky to be traveling with great company. Lots of wine, surf, sand, sun, mountain-climbing, shopping...we definitely took advantage of our time in a developed city. :) I'm off again to Zanzibar in February for the Sauti Za Busari music festival. It promises to be another crazy adventure!

So that's a 'brief' summary of my life for the past few months. Still Africa. Still a gong show. But I'm feeling more peace of mind about my role in all the craziness, and more mindful of the fact that I'm almost halfway done with my service. I promise to try and write again in the next 3 weeks! Until then: stay warm, be happy, love life. :)

Katie

p.s. YAY obama!

p.p.s. this is probably an unneccessary detail, but I haven't bathed in about 2 weeks. Crocodiles have been spotted in the river, and with the recent news that a villager was eaten by a croc while swiming 5 years ago, I'm staying away. Probably won't have a bathing shelter until March when the rains let up...thank God for wet wipes! :)