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.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
.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
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
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
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
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