I'm still here in Mpika trying to get some work done today in town and meet with an NGO this afternoon. I had a great birthday weekend with some other volunteers! On saturday we went to some waterfalls near mpika, swam in the nice cold water, and just hung out. On the downside, we found out that Kathy has decided to return home to the states. Luckily we were able to spend a great last weekend with her. She took the bus down to Lusaka last night and will be flying back to California in a few days. She is the third volunteer who has left Mpika in the span of a month, and when other volunteers are 99% of your support while living out in the bush it's really difficult to see them leave. As I mentioned before, there were certain safety and security issues that forced Becky and Hannah to leave, all stemming from one Zambian who lives in Mpika. What makes the situation even more frustrating is that one person can affect the services of 3 volunteers all in the same area. It makes me sick. It would be just me, Danielle, and Jeanna left in Mpika, but 2 new volunteers just got posted in the district and they seem pretty cool. Katy is another volunteer who will be finishing her service in about a month. I wish Kathy the best as she returns to Americaland, and I'm so grateful for having gotten the chance to know her. She is an amazing person and an invaluable volunteer. She will be greatly missed.
It's really been crazy the ups and downs I have gone through here. One week I'll be feeling great about life here, feel like I'm making headway with my project work, and will feel like I'm assimilating to the culture as best as I can. The next week I will be asking myself what the hell I'm still doing here, feel discouraged about work, and the culture makes me want to pull out my hair (which has been consistently falling out since I got here.) If I was truly out on my own in the bush for 2 years with very minimal contact with other Peace Corps volunteers I honestly don't know if I could make it here for 2 years. It is so hard to be living in a place where you will never fit in. People will always point at you and call you musungu, will always think that you have limitless amounts of money, and will always laugh at you no matter what you do. Of course I have learned to brush off most of it, but it's impossible not to let it affect you. You have to be true to yourself in order to survive here, and that includes being honest with yourself and knowing when you need to be around people who are feeling what you are feeling and who aren't from Zambia. Don't get me wrong, I have grown to love this country and the people of Zambia, but the fact remains that I will always be an outsider no matter what I do. I can still build strong relationships and make great connections with people, but due to the history of colonization and subsequent 'development' in Zambia I will always be viewed in a certain way here, and ultimately it is not the fault of Zambians. And I have to stay true to who I am no matter what circumstance I find myself in. For example, when I first got here I planned to attend many different church services just to get a feel for what religious experience is here in Zambia, but lately have felt that my attending services here is in a way supporting the christianization of this country, and I do not support the brainwashing it has affectively accomplished.
When I first came to Zambia I almost expected to develop a sense of negativity toward America. Yet after being here for 8 months I have found myself feeling the opposite. I really miss living in the U.S. and feel incredibly fortunate to be an American. America, of course, has it's problems, but I would not want be a female growing up anywhere else. I also miss the diversity of America. Some Zambians told me they thought that if they went to America they would be pointed at by white people and called, "black person" (much like they do to foreigners in Zambia), and I explained to them the diversity of America and that it just wouldn't happen. They seem completely baffled by the idea of black americans. I try to explain to them the civil rights movement as well as the emancipation of women in america. They mostly just look at me with blank stares, as if they have never heard of such things, and some of them are educated Zambians! They tell me they would like to have an American wife and I tell them they don't want an American wife because any self-respecting American woman will not cook and clean for you with your children on her back in the hot sun while you sit in the shade under a tree and get drunk. She will also not justify your beatings of her, and won't believe she deserves them because of your interpretation of the Bible. As I have written before, Zambia would change for the better if only the women here realized the power they hold and that the country would fall apart if they were to stop working for one day. I am incredibly grateful for having the opportunity to live in Zambia for 2 years and learn everything that I am learning here, but I think I will be ready to go home in a year and a half to values that I believe in, and to the respect of values different from one's own.
I do love this country though, despite my frustrations, and I am finding that some of the things that frustrate me most are also some of the reasons I choose to stay. My life is one crazy story after another, but I have learned to take one day at a time. And I've also learned that everything has a way of working out. You just have to be patient.
Miss you all! All my luv from Zamland.
Katie
Monday, October 6, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
24, single, and no i do NOT have any children :)
Muli shani! I just got into Mpika this morning from Katibunga, Danielle's site. She is my "closest' Peace Corps Neighbor, and I spent my birthday biking about 80k to her place, then today we biked another 45k into town. Have I mentioned that her and I went to the same middle school and used to play soccer together? small, small world. :) I got to her place in the evening and we made velveeta shells and cheese (sent from America) for dinner, and apple strudel that she made for dessert. I would have to rank it up there on one of the best bday dinners ever. :) It's been a busy couple weeks back in the village. The heat has been brutal, but mud huts are an engineering feat! They actually stay pretty cool during the day...no need for an air conditioner here in Africa. Last week one of my friends in the village stopped by and said he was going to see some elephants in a couple days, so I asked if I could tag along. Last Friday we started off in the morning and biked about 4 hours through the bush to Chilanga Scout Camp. I'll write more about my experience there in another post, but they people living at the camp were extremely hospitable. They made my friend and I lunch, then 2 scouts, sporting huge (tranquilizer?) guns and heavy duty boots and camo gear led us into the thick bush, along the Lufila river. About an hour into the hike, we came upon hippos playing in the water. We were so close to them, and they were HUGE. They just looked right at us, then kept playing in the water. Apparently hippos are very territorial and will run after you, slash your achilles with their tusks, then stomp you to death if they feel threatened...good thing we had the scouts with us. We didn't see any elephants that day, but I'm sure I'll have the chance to see them again. I was more than satisfied with just seeing the hippos! By the time we hiked back to the scout camp it was too late to bike home, so the village made us dinner and set up a little bed in the camp office for me to sleep in. I was overwhelmed by their hospitality and extremely grateful for a bed to sleep on. :) Oh, and upon our return from seeing the hippos the scouts told me the village was ready to hear my speech...speech? what speech? I just came here to see hippos! I ended up giving a health talk that turned into a Q and A on hiv/aids. It was an experience I'll never forget. I don't have much time now to right about it, so hopefully in my next posting I can go into more detail.
So other events from the past couple weeks...my bathing shelter burned down. They are lighting all the bush in the country on fire right now and the fires themselves escalate pretty quickly. I went to bed thinking the fire in my yard had receded to the river, but came outside about an hour later and my bathing shelter was in flames. Of course my soap, shampoo, razors, basin, and some laundry I had done earlier that day were all inside. I can handle not having the bathing shelter for the SCORCHING month of october because I can just bathe in the river...who knows, maybe I'll just have to bathe down there for the rest of my service...When my neighbors came over that night to begin the burning, I thought to myself, what better time to make s'mores! I had bought the supplies in Kasama and was going to introduce the delicious treats to my neighbors sometime soon anyway, so I told all the kids to find a stick and we roasted marshmallows while my yard was on fire. They seemed baffled by the whole concept, but I think they liked the s'mores. They are kids, it's sugar, enough said. :)
Someone stole all the nuts and screws that attach my front wheel to my bike, so I was riding it around praying I wouldn't be doing a nosedive. Luckily a friend came and got it one day and said he would be back in the afternoon. Later that day, he brought it back almost completely fixed. Of course I can't find tomatoes or toilet paper in my village, but spare bike parts they have. Add it to the list of things here that don't make any sense. I'm starting to compile a list of things that I have yet to understand here in Zambia. For example, Zambians are the most patient people on earth but can't stand in a line to save their lives. Everyone budges! Just this morning at a restaurant about 5 people in a row reached handfuls of money over my head and shouted out what they wanted as the workers completely ignored me and served them first. Also, the pace of life here is pretty slow and everything takes an extremely long time from transport to meetings. However, people drive crazy fast down streets in their cars honking like crazy as if they have a million places to go and a million things to do. As a pedestrian, you are at the bottom of the food chain. Not only do you need to dodge cars, but bikes can creep up on you too. Most of the frustrations I had in my first few months here I am now able to laugh off. Maybe the fact that so many things don't make sense here and life is kind of a gong show is one reason why I also love Zambia.
I will try to write more soon. I am camping at the waterfalls in Mpika this weekend with some friends and will be staying in town probably until Tuesday to get some work done. I miss home and everyone, and I hope all is well back in the states. All I hear about on the BBC lately is how horrible the economy is over there right now. There's more talk about that than the election! I hope things get better soon. Stay well, much luv from Zambia.
Katie
So other events from the past couple weeks...my bathing shelter burned down. They are lighting all the bush in the country on fire right now and the fires themselves escalate pretty quickly. I went to bed thinking the fire in my yard had receded to the river, but came outside about an hour later and my bathing shelter was in flames. Of course my soap, shampoo, razors, basin, and some laundry I had done earlier that day were all inside. I can handle not having the bathing shelter for the SCORCHING month of october because I can just bathe in the river...who knows, maybe I'll just have to bathe down there for the rest of my service...When my neighbors came over that night to begin the burning, I thought to myself, what better time to make s'mores! I had bought the supplies in Kasama and was going to introduce the delicious treats to my neighbors sometime soon anyway, so I told all the kids to find a stick and we roasted marshmallows while my yard was on fire. They seemed baffled by the whole concept, but I think they liked the s'mores. They are kids, it's sugar, enough said. :)
Someone stole all the nuts and screws that attach my front wheel to my bike, so I was riding it around praying I wouldn't be doing a nosedive. Luckily a friend came and got it one day and said he would be back in the afternoon. Later that day, he brought it back almost completely fixed. Of course I can't find tomatoes or toilet paper in my village, but spare bike parts they have. Add it to the list of things here that don't make any sense. I'm starting to compile a list of things that I have yet to understand here in Zambia. For example, Zambians are the most patient people on earth but can't stand in a line to save their lives. Everyone budges! Just this morning at a restaurant about 5 people in a row reached handfuls of money over my head and shouted out what they wanted as the workers completely ignored me and served them first. Also, the pace of life here is pretty slow and everything takes an extremely long time from transport to meetings. However, people drive crazy fast down streets in their cars honking like crazy as if they have a million places to go and a million things to do. As a pedestrian, you are at the bottom of the food chain. Not only do you need to dodge cars, but bikes can creep up on you too. Most of the frustrations I had in my first few months here I am now able to laugh off. Maybe the fact that so many things don't make sense here and life is kind of a gong show is one reason why I also love Zambia.
I will try to write more soon. I am camping at the waterfalls in Mpika this weekend with some friends and will be staying in town probably until Tuesday to get some work done. I miss home and everyone, and I hope all is well back in the states. All I hear about on the BBC lately is how horrible the economy is over there right now. There's more talk about that than the election! I hope things get better soon. Stay well, much luv from Zambia.
Katie
Sunday, September 21, 2008
.a little slice of paradise.
We all packed up and left Nkhata Bay at 6 a.m. Monday morning, September 1st. I got back to my village Friday evening, September 5th. That's African transport for you in a nutshell. :)
Following a week of in-service traning in Lusaka, a group of us headed east to Lake Malawi. We all split up and basically said, 'meet ya there!'. It felt a little like rat race at times when we would see eachother on the road, knowing that the few you just passed on the side of the road had every chance of passing you up later in the day. But the Gods of hitch-hiking were smiling on Kai, Davy, and me because we ended up getting a sweet ride with a couple German World Bank guys who drove us all the way from a big bridge in the eastern province of Zambia to Lilongwe, the capital city of Malawi. They had stayed in a Holiday Inn in the Lusaka the night before and even offered us pastries they had taken from the continental breakfast earlier that morning when we all stopped for a lunch break on the side of the road. They helped us to swiftly cross the border and dropped us off right outside the Lilongwe Peace Corps house before dark. And the best part is they wouldn't accept any money so we literally traveled halfway across Zambia and into Malawi for FREE. Another part of our group showed up in Lilongwe later that night and although they looked a little more frazzled from travel and had spent more money they definitely had some crazy stories from the day.
We got to know some Malawian Peace Corps volunteers who were also staying at the PC house in Lilongwe, and they seemed pretty friendly. They helped us out a lot with how to get from Lilongwe to Nkhata Bay and also told us approximate costs since we all know there would be some minibus price inflation for the 'musungus'. Malawi is a poorer country than Zambia and everything there is incredibly cheap. Traveling to Malawi for vacation is popular among Zambian PCVs for that reason. However, even though the Malawian PCVs can pretty much go to the lake whenever they want, they don't receive as high of a living allowance as we do so it's a lot more expensive for them to travel to Zambia than it is for us to travel to Malawi. Also, visas into Malawi are free while a visa into Zambia costs about $150.
The 7 of us set out early the next morning for the lake, hopping from minibus to minibus along the way. At our last minibus station before reaching our final destination, we loaded our final van carlsberg in hand to celebrate the last stretch of 2 loooong days of travel and our first time out of the country in 6 months.
Nkhata Bay is nestled into rolling, rocky foothills on the northern edge of Lake Malawi. The water is a mediterranean blue that fools you into thinking its an ocean. The faintest hint of a boundary is in the faded outline of the mountains of Tanzania and Mozambique in the distance on a clear day. Most days, however, the lake and sky blur out the horizon line and the dug-out canoes become distant specks suspended mid-air.
Our group of 12 stayed in a beach house right on the lake, complete with a big deck overlooking the water ideal for both sun-bathing and star-gazing. Actually, a few of us only slept in our rooms for one night. Every other night we pulled our mattresses out onto the deck and fell asleep under the stars. Seeing the lights of the canoes full of fishermen at night light up the lake made braving the gnats and mosquitoes worth it. I didn't even mind being woken up every morning around 4 to the singing and chattering Malawian fishermen hauling in their boats full of that night's catch.
Nkhata bay is intriguing in that the lodges for travellers are dotted throughout the bay among the homes of the villagers. A backpacker is likely to feel that they are experiencing the "true Malawi" in a sense, and the villagers are able to benefit directly from tourism. Yet after living for 6 months in a village I was struck by the difference between this Malawian village on a hill and my village in a remote Northern corner of Zambia. The rural community of which I have become a part in Lufila has remained virtually untouched by the tourist industry and direct foreign contact in general. I am a novelty as I stroll down the main street (or dirt road if you want to be technical) because I am probably one of the first if not the first white person who has ventured to their community, let alone living there as they do for 2 years. Although tourism has helped the indigenous community in Nkhata Bay to flourish, I found myself feeling eager to get back 'home' to my village, to Africans who remain untainted by tourism. Malawians in Nkhata Bay are very friendly, but you can tell they are used to 'pleasing' foreigners, always knowing the right jokes to tell or what to say to make the sale. I missed the genuine friendliness of Zambians; the pure eagerness to get to know you as well as teach you their culture. Their smile hasn't fallen on backpackers from around the world, but instead, teeth or no teeth, illustrates a simple happiness to greet you. And if you greet them in their tribal language? Then it's as if you just handed them a million kwacha. :)
So as I wrote before, I was planning to get SCUBA certified in Malawi, and to my own surprise I actually went through with it. If I had known how tough it was actually going to be I might not have shown up for class Monday morning. I started to conquer one fear while another was magnified. Turns out breathing from a tank underwater goes against all intuition; remembering to relax, breathe slowly, and not freak out is the hardest part of scuba diving. I was that girl who made the instructors check her respirator themselves before diving and who literally cut off the cirulation in the instructors hand while going through a semi panic attack on the floor of Lake Malawi. My fear of deep water and enclosed spaces collided and the first dives we did were 2 of the most unenjoyable experiences I've ever had. I was ready to throw in the towel after day 2 but my extreme stubborness came to the rescue and by the fifth dive on the last day I was loving seeing all the beautiful fishies and was learning to trick my mind into not thinking about the fact that my only source of air was a tank strapped to my back. My fear of fish began to fade, as they were a welcome distraction to thinking too hard about my breathing. As for our group, 8 hours of class and diving a day paid off when we all passed and receieved our certifications on day 4. Although our grace underwater could use some work (lots of whacking eachother in the head with flippers) we all stuck it out and are already planning to dive in places like Mozambique and Zanzibar. Throughout the week, our instructors kept tabs on what they referred to as 'beer points'. If someone forgot to lay their tank down on its side before walking away from it, and one of them noticed, that person earned 1 beer point and at the end of the week had to buy everyone a round of beer. Does it surprise you that yours truly paid for drinks on the last day after class? :) Although we were pumped about getting certified, the 5 of us were ready to spend our remaining 3 days in Malawi soaking up the sun with our already lobster-red friends. On Saturday we all rented a boat. We got to feed some Fish Eagles and do some cliff-jumping before heading to a sandy inlet where we snorkeled a little bit and tried our hand at paddling a dug-out wooden canoe. Needless to say it's way harder than it looks and we all looked absolutely ridiculous. After enjoying a home-cooked lunch on the beach we headed back to our house to get ready for the Nkhata Bay night life. We were a pretty big group and definitely brought the party wherever we went. The owner of a neighboring lodge told me the craziest people he's had stay at his lodge have been Peace Corps Zambia volunteers. Makes sense I guess....Zambia is one of the only remaining Peace Corps countries that is truly rural, and we tend to take advantage of our time out of the bush-bush. Even most Malawi PCVs have electricity and running water. Not a single Zam volunteer has either. Long story short, the 12 of us left Malawi early Monday morning looking and feeling pretty worse for the wear. Luckily we had a couple days to 'sleep' on transport. We departed in our minibus alrady planning to make it back sometime during the remainder of our service. It was a wonderful vacation in a breathtakingly beautiful part of Africa, but we were ready to get back home to village life and 10 hours of sleep a night. :)
Due to some safety and security issues in my district, my really good friend Becky had to leave Mpika and move to Luapula Province on Thursday. Danielle, Jeanna, and I helped her pack. It was a really sad day to see her go. She has been a huge support for me, especially during my struggles in the very beginning. And she's my fellow minnesota soccer girl. :) I am hopping to visit her at ther new site in Mansa district in a few weeks. Hannah, an amazing volunteer in Mpika who had been here for about a year and a half was forced to end her service and move back to America for the same security reasons. We will miss her tons but I hope everything works out for her back in the land where everything works...
So it's back to village life for me. I missed it. Becky brought me back some starbucks coffee grounds from America (she recently went back for a wedding in MN), and I spend a good 5 minutes every morning just inhaling the aroma of the grounds. :) Plus my mom sent me about a 2-year supply of peanut m&m's so I'm in heaven. I can officially start working now, so I'm gong to be busy working with the neighborhood health committees (and forming or reforming them in most cases) as well as continuing to work with community leaders. The in-charge/midwife at the clinic is my counterpart/colleague so I discuss most of what I plan to do with him. He is extremely knowledgeable about health care in Zambia and a big soccer fan so I enjoy stopping by the clinic to talk with him. While basically running the clinic by himself, he manages also to study for further courses he is taking in Kasama. He always watches out for me, too, and if I have any problems in my village, such as thievery, he is the first person I go to. One frustration I am beginning to have is that no one can give me a straight answer as to the activity ( or inactivity for that matter) of my neighborhood health committees. Ba Chikwaba, my counterparrt, tells me none have more than 4-5 members, but the chairperson of each committee tells me they have 15 members (the ideal number). hmmm.... So I wrote bush notes to each chairperson and even hand-delivered some by bike letting them know I'd like to meet with their NHC's as soon as possible. At this point I am waiting to hear back from them. Hopefully by next month I'll have had a chance to meet with all 7 NHCs and assess whether they need to hold community meetings to elect more/new members. I feel a little rushed to get the ball rolling with them as soon as possible because rainy season is fast approaching and the pace of life slows down even more come November.
At this point I should probably explain a little more clearly my job and role as a CAHP project volunteer in Lufila. I think I tried to explain it a few months ago but it has even become more clearly definied for me since I arrived in Zambia 7 months ago. Here's a metaphor: pricture me as the hand holding the back of the bike seat and the NHCs are learning to ride the bike. I teach and support them, even giving them a little motivational push until ultimately they are on their own. My job is all about education and empowerment of the NHCs. Their role is to address the healthcare needs of their respective villages and my role is to build their capacity to do so. In the Zambian Ministry of Health structure, the ministry itself is in charge of 9 provinces. Those 9 provincial health offices oversee 72 district health offices. Within each district there are about 25 rural health centers (or gov't. clinics), each of which serves a catchment area that ideally contains 3-20 active neighborhood health committees. Decentralization of health care in Zambia aims to allow this hierarchy to work from the ground up, with NHCs communicating needs and issues as well as reporting on healthcare activity to their RHC (rural health center), who then reports to the district, and on and on up the ladder. In a perfect Zambian world this system would empower villagers in rural areas to work within their communities to address health issues...but of course the system is flawed. Frustrations occur during frequent breakdowns in communication and many NHC members are left understandably feeling powerless and insignificant. Their membership on the NHC is completely voluntary yet still a status symbol within their community. Some members are extremely motivated to address the needs of their community while others view membership as a sort of popularity contest. As I stated before, I am currently experiencing some frustrations with the NHCs in my clinic's catchment area because the committees were supposed to be formed 5 years ago and they have gone through quite a bit of training, yet not all members are active and many NHC communities have not been sensitized to the role of the NHC. A training is useless unless there are enough NHC members to implement the skills they learned in the training in their communities. I am ultimately supposed to train the NHCs in the 6 major health thrusts in Zambia and consistently do follow-up trainings on project design and management, action planning, and budget-making, etc. I am supposed to constantly monitor and evaluate their progress throughout the next 2 years. Yet I am starting to believe that social mobilization, forming the foundation of the NHC, is still a work-in-progress in my area. Although the NHCs were apparently formed 5 years ago, I feel as if I'm starting from scratch. Its ok though, because as a first generation volunteer in my village my main focus is to build a solid foundation with my NHCs on which the 2 generations of volunteers that will follow me can build. Building the full capacity of the NHCs is a 6-year process, according to Peace Corps and the ministry of health in Zambia, and rushing my NHCs now will only hurt them in the end. So I am trying to build good relationships with them as well as other community leaders so that my 2-year service here is not full of frustrations and so that life is a little easier for the 2 volunteers who will live here after I leave. In America, we become so used to always seeing tangible results. You put a lot of work into something fully expecting a result that is both measurable and reflective of the hard work you put into it. I believe the main objective of Peace Corps as an organization, although they may not come right out and say it, is not so much direct, tangible development as it is the building of solid relationships, 'keeping the peace' if you will. Education, whether it be in health, agriculture, or the rural school system, forms the cornerstone of Peace Corps grassroots development aims in Zambia, but you can only educate sustainably if you form good relationships with those in your community. Not only America but other first-world countries tend to exploit the third world and although aid intentions aren't necessarily malicious, the desire to force our way of doing things on those of a poorer and more vulnerable country essentially is, in effect. Peace Corps is by no means a perfect organization. It's disorganized and lacks accountability in many areas, but I respect it in that it doesn't place tangible development on a pedestal as many NGOs and other foreign aid agencies seem to do. Actually Peace Corps discourages its volunteers from constructing building or using large sums of donation money to fund rural projects. As cliche as it sounds, Peace Corps is working in developing countries like Zambia to build relationships, not monuments. They are much more interested in teaching a group of community leaders in the bush how to write a proposal to fund something like the construction of a well than a Peace Corps volunteer moving into the village and building the well themselves. Although the constant focus on sustainability can be both frustrating and exhausting, it has forced me to rethink my views on foreign AID to Africa. There is a constant dialogue among PC volunteers regarding the answer to development and the correct way to go about it. And the truth is no one knows the answer. But I have to believe that if living in the heart of an African village for 2 years gets me no closer to an answer to development here, then at least I will have come closer to understanding the hearts of Africans themselves. And despite constant diarrhea, contracting malaria, hitching rides in the back of tomato trucks, or riding my bike 30k just to buy eggs that have mostly cracked by the time I bike home, it's still a desire to understand Zambia and the people here, as well as to begin to formulate my own answer to devlopment that gets me out of bed every morning. That and the African sky. :) .much luv.
-katie
"the movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside. For them the earth is not exploitable ground but the living mother."
"the criterion is how you treat the weak. The measure of civilized behavior is compassion."
Following a week of in-service traning in Lusaka, a group of us headed east to Lake Malawi. We all split up and basically said, 'meet ya there!'. It felt a little like rat race at times when we would see eachother on the road, knowing that the few you just passed on the side of the road had every chance of passing you up later in the day. But the Gods of hitch-hiking were smiling on Kai, Davy, and me because we ended up getting a sweet ride with a couple German World Bank guys who drove us all the way from a big bridge in the eastern province of Zambia to Lilongwe, the capital city of Malawi. They had stayed in a Holiday Inn in the Lusaka the night before and even offered us pastries they had taken from the continental breakfast earlier that morning when we all stopped for a lunch break on the side of the road. They helped us to swiftly cross the border and dropped us off right outside the Lilongwe Peace Corps house before dark. And the best part is they wouldn't accept any money so we literally traveled halfway across Zambia and into Malawi for FREE. Another part of our group showed up in Lilongwe later that night and although they looked a little more frazzled from travel and had spent more money they definitely had some crazy stories from the day.
We got to know some Malawian Peace Corps volunteers who were also staying at the PC house in Lilongwe, and they seemed pretty friendly. They helped us out a lot with how to get from Lilongwe to Nkhata Bay and also told us approximate costs since we all know there would be some minibus price inflation for the 'musungus'. Malawi is a poorer country than Zambia and everything there is incredibly cheap. Traveling to Malawi for vacation is popular among Zambian PCVs for that reason. However, even though the Malawian PCVs can pretty much go to the lake whenever they want, they don't receive as high of a living allowance as we do so it's a lot more expensive for them to travel to Zambia than it is for us to travel to Malawi. Also, visas into Malawi are free while a visa into Zambia costs about $150.
The 7 of us set out early the next morning for the lake, hopping from minibus to minibus along the way. At our last minibus station before reaching our final destination, we loaded our final van carlsberg in hand to celebrate the last stretch of 2 loooong days of travel and our first time out of the country in 6 months.
Nkhata Bay is nestled into rolling, rocky foothills on the northern edge of Lake Malawi. The water is a mediterranean blue that fools you into thinking its an ocean. The faintest hint of a boundary is in the faded outline of the mountains of Tanzania and Mozambique in the distance on a clear day. Most days, however, the lake and sky blur out the horizon line and the dug-out canoes become distant specks suspended mid-air.
Our group of 12 stayed in a beach house right on the lake, complete with a big deck overlooking the water ideal for both sun-bathing and star-gazing. Actually, a few of us only slept in our rooms for one night. Every other night we pulled our mattresses out onto the deck and fell asleep under the stars. Seeing the lights of the canoes full of fishermen at night light up the lake made braving the gnats and mosquitoes worth it. I didn't even mind being woken up every morning around 4 to the singing and chattering Malawian fishermen hauling in their boats full of that night's catch.
Nkhata bay is intriguing in that the lodges for travellers are dotted throughout the bay among the homes of the villagers. A backpacker is likely to feel that they are experiencing the "true Malawi" in a sense, and the villagers are able to benefit directly from tourism. Yet after living for 6 months in a village I was struck by the difference between this Malawian village on a hill and my village in a remote Northern corner of Zambia. The rural community of which I have become a part in Lufila has remained virtually untouched by the tourist industry and direct foreign contact in general. I am a novelty as I stroll down the main street (or dirt road if you want to be technical) because I am probably one of the first if not the first white person who has ventured to their community, let alone living there as they do for 2 years. Although tourism has helped the indigenous community in Nkhata Bay to flourish, I found myself feeling eager to get back 'home' to my village, to Africans who remain untainted by tourism. Malawians in Nkhata Bay are very friendly, but you can tell they are used to 'pleasing' foreigners, always knowing the right jokes to tell or what to say to make the sale. I missed the genuine friendliness of Zambians; the pure eagerness to get to know you as well as teach you their culture. Their smile hasn't fallen on backpackers from around the world, but instead, teeth or no teeth, illustrates a simple happiness to greet you. And if you greet them in their tribal language? Then it's as if you just handed them a million kwacha. :)
So as I wrote before, I was planning to get SCUBA certified in Malawi, and to my own surprise I actually went through with it. If I had known how tough it was actually going to be I might not have shown up for class Monday morning. I started to conquer one fear while another was magnified. Turns out breathing from a tank underwater goes against all intuition; remembering to relax, breathe slowly, and not freak out is the hardest part of scuba diving. I was that girl who made the instructors check her respirator themselves before diving and who literally cut off the cirulation in the instructors hand while going through a semi panic attack on the floor of Lake Malawi. My fear of deep water and enclosed spaces collided and the first dives we did were 2 of the most unenjoyable experiences I've ever had. I was ready to throw in the towel after day 2 but my extreme stubborness came to the rescue and by the fifth dive on the last day I was loving seeing all the beautiful fishies and was learning to trick my mind into not thinking about the fact that my only source of air was a tank strapped to my back. My fear of fish began to fade, as they were a welcome distraction to thinking too hard about my breathing. As for our group, 8 hours of class and diving a day paid off when we all passed and receieved our certifications on day 4. Although our grace underwater could use some work (lots of whacking eachother in the head with flippers) we all stuck it out and are already planning to dive in places like Mozambique and Zanzibar. Throughout the week, our instructors kept tabs on what they referred to as 'beer points'. If someone forgot to lay their tank down on its side before walking away from it, and one of them noticed, that person earned 1 beer point and at the end of the week had to buy everyone a round of beer. Does it surprise you that yours truly paid for drinks on the last day after class? :) Although we were pumped about getting certified, the 5 of us were ready to spend our remaining 3 days in Malawi soaking up the sun with our already lobster-red friends. On Saturday we all rented a boat. We got to feed some Fish Eagles and do some cliff-jumping before heading to a sandy inlet where we snorkeled a little bit and tried our hand at paddling a dug-out wooden canoe. Needless to say it's way harder than it looks and we all looked absolutely ridiculous. After enjoying a home-cooked lunch on the beach we headed back to our house to get ready for the Nkhata Bay night life. We were a pretty big group and definitely brought the party wherever we went. The owner of a neighboring lodge told me the craziest people he's had stay at his lodge have been Peace Corps Zambia volunteers. Makes sense I guess....Zambia is one of the only remaining Peace Corps countries that is truly rural, and we tend to take advantage of our time out of the bush-bush. Even most Malawi PCVs have electricity and running water. Not a single Zam volunteer has either. Long story short, the 12 of us left Malawi early Monday morning looking and feeling pretty worse for the wear. Luckily we had a couple days to 'sleep' on transport. We departed in our minibus alrady planning to make it back sometime during the remainder of our service. It was a wonderful vacation in a breathtakingly beautiful part of Africa, but we were ready to get back home to village life and 10 hours of sleep a night. :)
Due to some safety and security issues in my district, my really good friend Becky had to leave Mpika and move to Luapula Province on Thursday. Danielle, Jeanna, and I helped her pack. It was a really sad day to see her go. She has been a huge support for me, especially during my struggles in the very beginning. And she's my fellow minnesota soccer girl. :) I am hopping to visit her at ther new site in Mansa district in a few weeks. Hannah, an amazing volunteer in Mpika who had been here for about a year and a half was forced to end her service and move back to America for the same security reasons. We will miss her tons but I hope everything works out for her back in the land where everything works...
So it's back to village life for me. I missed it. Becky brought me back some starbucks coffee grounds from America (she recently went back for a wedding in MN), and I spend a good 5 minutes every morning just inhaling the aroma of the grounds. :) Plus my mom sent me about a 2-year supply of peanut m&m's so I'm in heaven. I can officially start working now, so I'm gong to be busy working with the neighborhood health committees (and forming or reforming them in most cases) as well as continuing to work with community leaders. The in-charge/midwife at the clinic is my counterpart/colleague so I discuss most of what I plan to do with him. He is extremely knowledgeable about health care in Zambia and a big soccer fan so I enjoy stopping by the clinic to talk with him. While basically running the clinic by himself, he manages also to study for further courses he is taking in Kasama. He always watches out for me, too, and if I have any problems in my village, such as thievery, he is the first person I go to. One frustration I am beginning to have is that no one can give me a straight answer as to the activity ( or inactivity for that matter) of my neighborhood health committees. Ba Chikwaba, my counterparrt, tells me none have more than 4-5 members, but the chairperson of each committee tells me they have 15 members (the ideal number). hmmm.... So I wrote bush notes to each chairperson and even hand-delivered some by bike letting them know I'd like to meet with their NHC's as soon as possible. At this point I am waiting to hear back from them. Hopefully by next month I'll have had a chance to meet with all 7 NHCs and assess whether they need to hold community meetings to elect more/new members. I feel a little rushed to get the ball rolling with them as soon as possible because rainy season is fast approaching and the pace of life slows down even more come November.
At this point I should probably explain a little more clearly my job and role as a CAHP project volunteer in Lufila. I think I tried to explain it a few months ago but it has even become more clearly definied for me since I arrived in Zambia 7 months ago. Here's a metaphor: pricture me as the hand holding the back of the bike seat and the NHCs are learning to ride the bike. I teach and support them, even giving them a little motivational push until ultimately they are on their own. My job is all about education and empowerment of the NHCs. Their role is to address the healthcare needs of their respective villages and my role is to build their capacity to do so. In the Zambian Ministry of Health structure, the ministry itself is in charge of 9 provinces. Those 9 provincial health offices oversee 72 district health offices. Within each district there are about 25 rural health centers (or gov't. clinics), each of which serves a catchment area that ideally contains 3-20 active neighborhood health committees. Decentralization of health care in Zambia aims to allow this hierarchy to work from the ground up, with NHCs communicating needs and issues as well as reporting on healthcare activity to their RHC (rural health center), who then reports to the district, and on and on up the ladder. In a perfect Zambian world this system would empower villagers in rural areas to work within their communities to address health issues...but of course the system is flawed. Frustrations occur during frequent breakdowns in communication and many NHC members are left understandably feeling powerless and insignificant. Their membership on the NHC is completely voluntary yet still a status symbol within their community. Some members are extremely motivated to address the needs of their community while others view membership as a sort of popularity contest. As I stated before, I am currently experiencing some frustrations with the NHCs in my clinic's catchment area because the committees were supposed to be formed 5 years ago and they have gone through quite a bit of training, yet not all members are active and many NHC communities have not been sensitized to the role of the NHC. A training is useless unless there are enough NHC members to implement the skills they learned in the training in their communities. I am ultimately supposed to train the NHCs in the 6 major health thrusts in Zambia and consistently do follow-up trainings on project design and management, action planning, and budget-making, etc. I am supposed to constantly monitor and evaluate their progress throughout the next 2 years. Yet I am starting to believe that social mobilization, forming the foundation of the NHC, is still a work-in-progress in my area. Although the NHCs were apparently formed 5 years ago, I feel as if I'm starting from scratch. Its ok though, because as a first generation volunteer in my village my main focus is to build a solid foundation with my NHCs on which the 2 generations of volunteers that will follow me can build. Building the full capacity of the NHCs is a 6-year process, according to Peace Corps and the ministry of health in Zambia, and rushing my NHCs now will only hurt them in the end. So I am trying to build good relationships with them as well as other community leaders so that my 2-year service here is not full of frustrations and so that life is a little easier for the 2 volunteers who will live here after I leave. In America, we become so used to always seeing tangible results. You put a lot of work into something fully expecting a result that is both measurable and reflective of the hard work you put into it. I believe the main objective of Peace Corps as an organization, although they may not come right out and say it, is not so much direct, tangible development as it is the building of solid relationships, 'keeping the peace' if you will. Education, whether it be in health, agriculture, or the rural school system, forms the cornerstone of Peace Corps grassroots development aims in Zambia, but you can only educate sustainably if you form good relationships with those in your community. Not only America but other first-world countries tend to exploit the third world and although aid intentions aren't necessarily malicious, the desire to force our way of doing things on those of a poorer and more vulnerable country essentially is, in effect. Peace Corps is by no means a perfect organization. It's disorganized and lacks accountability in many areas, but I respect it in that it doesn't place tangible development on a pedestal as many NGOs and other foreign aid agencies seem to do. Actually Peace Corps discourages its volunteers from constructing building or using large sums of donation money to fund rural projects. As cliche as it sounds, Peace Corps is working in developing countries like Zambia to build relationships, not monuments. They are much more interested in teaching a group of community leaders in the bush how to write a proposal to fund something like the construction of a well than a Peace Corps volunteer moving into the village and building the well themselves. Although the constant focus on sustainability can be both frustrating and exhausting, it has forced me to rethink my views on foreign AID to Africa. There is a constant dialogue among PC volunteers regarding the answer to development and the correct way to go about it. And the truth is no one knows the answer. But I have to believe that if living in the heart of an African village for 2 years gets me no closer to an answer to development here, then at least I will have come closer to understanding the hearts of Africans themselves. And despite constant diarrhea, contracting malaria, hitching rides in the back of tomato trucks, or riding my bike 30k just to buy eggs that have mostly cracked by the time I bike home, it's still a desire to understand Zambia and the people here, as well as to begin to formulate my own answer to devlopment that gets me out of bed every morning. That and the African sky. :) .much luv.
-katie
"the movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside. For them the earth is not exploitable ground but the living mother."
"the criterion is how you treat the weak. The measure of civilized behavior is compassion."
Thursday, August 21, 2008
I'm in Lusaka and feeling over-stimulated. It's funny that when we first flew into Lusaka I wasn't very impressed by the city itself and couldn't wait to get out to the more rural areas, but right now I am LOVING lusaka. :) Good food, toilets, hot showers...doesn't take much these days...Our entire intake of about 50 volunteers arrived here a few days ago for about a week of in-service training. Us Northerners lucked out with a pretty sweet ride from Mpika. We hitched from the police post (genious idea by Jeanna!) and got almost an entire bus transporting soap to ourselves! They did NOT want to take us at first but were easily persuaded by the lady with the gun who didn't smile much (gotta luv zambia!). I have actually lucked out lately with transport (and have probably just jinxed myself), because I caught a ride from my village turnoff with some canadian and british families who were on their way back from vacation up north. I started off around 6 a.m. from my hut and made it to the tarmac by around 9, where I saw a bunch of white people with about 5 cruisers. I left my bike at a shop, walked over to them and asked for a lift. They looked completely confused because I literally just popped right out of the bush. But they were very friendly (not always the case with white people driving in Zambia...you are much more likely to catch a lift from a Zambian). I was having flashbacks from childhood family road trips as I got into the backseat full of empty boxes of snacks, word puzzle games, and squabbling children. What I found most surprising was that the car actually smelled "good" and I was probably the stinkiest one there, and the kids weren't staring at me and calling me 'muzungu'! It made me miss home a lot. :(
So our intake pretty much all met up in Lusaka on Sunday, shopping and eating before heading to NRDC (where training was taking place). Everyone looked pretty much the same except tanner and a little more frazzled-looking, and as always the girls have mostly all gained a couple pounds and the guys are melting. It has been great to catch up with people and find out how village life is for everyone. Most everyone seems to be doing great, and people have definitely become happier and more relaxed since training.
A bunch of us are headed to malawi on saturday and I am so pumped! We are staying for about a week and it's starting to get pretty hot so a beach will be nice. I'm planning on getting certified in SCUBA with some other people, but the only thing holding me back is my 2 biggest fears of deep water and fish...but hey it's all about conquering fears, yeah? :) We'll see if I got through with it.
It's also been nice to talk to the Peace Corps medical doctors here. I am seeing a doctor in Lusaka for some stomach issues tomorrow morning so hopefully my troubles there can get cleared up. The PCMO also told me I need to move out of my hut because I have too many bees....but I'm hoping she's just being a little on the dramatic side. I don't think she realizes that it's been 4 months and my village still hasn't dug my rubbish pit....so them building me another house is most likely out of the question. Plus I love my hut and location. I think I'll just try to get the villagers to knock the hive down...maybe they can do beekeeping...haha now I'm thinking like a peace corps volunteer. :)
Speaking of village life, I just found out that my (former) cat was attacked by a hawk and died! 2 months ago after I gave my neighbors my jerk kitten they told me she had run into the bush...but turns out they didn't want to break my heart and tell me the truth...little do they know I am NOT a cat person.
Sorry this post has been kind of random and scattered...seems my life is kind of that way here in Zambia. Being at this training has given me more ideas for my village and I am excited to get back to the bush after Malawi. I've been thinking about helping my village form an HIV/AIDS support group, and I'd also love for them to form a women's group. I also want to teach some English, and a bigger, more long-term project I have in mind is the construction of a library....these are all still little just thoughts at this point but when I sat down to write an action plan for myself it made the next two years actually seem like not enough time. Time is crazy here though, because the weeks and months seem to fall off the calendar while the days can sometimes be agonizingly long.
I will try to write again when I pass through Lusaka after Malawi. All my love from Lusaka!
Katie
So our intake pretty much all met up in Lusaka on Sunday, shopping and eating before heading to NRDC (where training was taking place). Everyone looked pretty much the same except tanner and a little more frazzled-looking, and as always the girls have mostly all gained a couple pounds and the guys are melting. It has been great to catch up with people and find out how village life is for everyone. Most everyone seems to be doing great, and people have definitely become happier and more relaxed since training.
A bunch of us are headed to malawi on saturday and I am so pumped! We are staying for about a week and it's starting to get pretty hot so a beach will be nice. I'm planning on getting certified in SCUBA with some other people, but the only thing holding me back is my 2 biggest fears of deep water and fish...but hey it's all about conquering fears, yeah? :) We'll see if I got through with it.
It's also been nice to talk to the Peace Corps medical doctors here. I am seeing a doctor in Lusaka for some stomach issues tomorrow morning so hopefully my troubles there can get cleared up. The PCMO also told me I need to move out of my hut because I have too many bees....but I'm hoping she's just being a little on the dramatic side. I don't think she realizes that it's been 4 months and my village still hasn't dug my rubbish pit....so them building me another house is most likely out of the question. Plus I love my hut and location. I think I'll just try to get the villagers to knock the hive down...maybe they can do beekeeping...haha now I'm thinking like a peace corps volunteer. :)
Speaking of village life, I just found out that my (former) cat was attacked by a hawk and died! 2 months ago after I gave my neighbors my jerk kitten they told me she had run into the bush...but turns out they didn't want to break my heart and tell me the truth...little do they know I am NOT a cat person.
Sorry this post has been kind of random and scattered...seems my life is kind of that way here in Zambia. Being at this training has given me more ideas for my village and I am excited to get back to the bush after Malawi. I've been thinking about helping my village form an HIV/AIDS support group, and I'd also love for them to form a women's group. I also want to teach some English, and a bigger, more long-term project I have in mind is the construction of a library....these are all still little just thoughts at this point but when I sat down to write an action plan for myself it made the next two years actually seem like not enough time. Time is crazy here though, because the weeks and months seem to fall off the calendar while the days can sometimes be agonizingly long.
I will try to write again when I pass through Lusaka after Malawi. All my love from Lusaka!
Katie
Friday, July 25, 2008
awe sure...
I'm in Kasama for the weekend so that I can get an extension on my visa and not get deported, but loving the good food and movie-watching on the side at the house. ;) I had some crazy truly cultural experiences in my village the last couple weeks that I know I could never do justice to on this blog but I'll try anyway.
I went to church for the first time in my village. My neighbors are 7th day adventist so they go to church all day on saturdays. I didn't have much going on so I decided to join them a couple weeks ago. Like I've mentioned before, the singing here in Africa is beautiful. Not only do I hear it emenating at night sometimes from the village when the moon is bright and the kids stay out late, but people break into song at random and harmonize with no effort at all. It's like everyone knows their part from birth. The church choir made me stand up in front of everyone in the church while they sang a welcome song to me both in english and bemba. The minister came over and handed me a bible in English so I could follow along. Although I don't consider myself a very religious person and I don't adhere to one specific religion, I felt incredibly welcome and comfortable in this church full of people who don't speak my language and have a different set of beliefs. The sermon was on self-control and temperance, two things I never seem to have much of, but I was impressed with the minister's efforts to make me understand and even throw some English in, and I took the opportunity to work on my Bemba. The service was about 4 hours long and my brain hurt a little by lunchtime so I decided not to come back in the afternoon, but I made a resolve to try and go to at least one service at each church in Lufila. There is a Pentacostal church , Catholic church, and United Church of Zambia. Zambians love them some Jesus! :) If nothing else I'll go for the singing and to connect to more leaders in the community, because EVERYONE goes to church. I'll settle for saying my prayers before I go to bed at night. :)
Another crazy cultural experience I had was attending a women's initiation ceremony in my village. Gong show might be the only way to describe it...I couldn't compare it to anything in America. A couple younger women stopped by my hut just when it was getting dark one night and were saying something about dancing and how they wanted me to come with them. I was a little hesitant because, like pretty much every other encounter with Zambians I only understood about 10% of what they were saying, but decided to go with them. All I was going to do was crawl into my bed with a good book and go to sleep soon...BORING! Well we walked for about an hour to the other side of the village where there were a couple of fires going at someone's hut and lots of women sitting around the fire talking. I greeted all of them (something I've gotten quite good at...next step is more conversation, ha!) and sat with them around the fire for what had to have been a couple more hours, which was cool with me since it was getting pretty cold. The women seemed to vary in age from 20-70...maybe about 30 altogether. Some kept coming in and out of the hut and whatever was inside was a big secret. Finally the women told me I needed to pay to get inside, and of course I didn't bring any money so one of them loaned me 1,000 kwacha (about 30 cents) to get inside the hut. So there we all were, squished into this tiny hut with one candle burning in the corner. And in the center of the room is large falic symbol about a meter tall molded from clay with beans stuck into the sides and circular web of clay beneath it. In the corner were other clay figurines. One was a snake for sure...the others looked like miniature buddhas but I guess were pregnant women with baskets on their heads and babies on their backs and what may be inappopriate things to write about on this blog being done to them. I think these symbolized the "duties" of the women to their husbands. The ceremony was for girls who were about to get married, and was basically a way for the older women in the community to teach their daughters how to please their husbands and run their households. Of course they included me in the initiation (I'm proud to say I can now marry a zambian if I want...although the fact that I refuse to cook nshima and basically can't really cook in general or have a desire to pop out 10 babies makes the pool of zambian men who would want to marry me slim to none.) There was a lot of call and response chanting and singing while 3 women were consistently drumming in the corner. I got up and danced in the middle a few times and they LOVED to see my attempt to move my hips like they do. It must have been pretty comical, but I was really trying hard! As for the initiation, of course me and the other girls being initiated (mind you I'm almost 24 and they are maybe 14 or 15) had to first walk in circles around the falic clay molding, then dance around it, and finally sit on top of it. I'm all about participation in cultural experiences here, but I drew the line at this point. I'll dance till the morning light but hells no was I going to use that thing as a chair.
The dancing, singing, and drumming continued all night. It was so much fun but also taken very seriously by all involved. Women would take turns going in the middle of the circle and girating their hips like crazy. They even went so far as to pretend to be having sex with one another, while mothers pointed out to their daughters who was doing it the best. I was pretty much in shock the entire time, for as un-open as people are here about sex, put a bunch of Zambian women in a room together and there are no boundaries. Probably around 2:00 a.m. I was starting to doze off a little (remember my bedtime is usually around 8 p.m.), so they gave me a blanket and put me to sleep on a reed mat in the hut next door. I couldn't see anything but could hear a baby crying and children whispering, 'musungu! musungu!' (meaning 'white person' in bemba). I was exhausted and freezing so I curled up in the blanket and tried to doze off before any rats or mice scurried over. When the sun came up, the women came and woke me after having been up dancing the entire night. In the light of dawn it really hit me how simplistically Zambians live. I had not been inside another hut in my area, and it made me realize how much stuff I have compared to them. It was pretty empty except for a bed in one room, a reed mat, and a pile of potatoes in the corner. They had probably given me one of maybe two blankets that they owned so I could stay warm. Their own children were probably just using chitenges, yet they would never have let me give the blanket back. They share what they have, no matter how little, no questions asked.
We danced a little more and ate nshima, chicken, and beans for breakfast. I got back to my hut at 10 am and passed out for the rest of the day. It took a couple days to process what had just happened. It was an incredible experience that I feel so lucky to have gotten to the chance to partake in, and as a result I feel a lot closer with some women in my community. They are so eager to show me their traditions, it definitely made me feel more a part of my community. As I've mentioned before, I've never met such amazing women as I have in this country. If they could only realize the power they hold this country would change dramatically for the better.
Well I'm headed down to Lusaka for In-service Training in about 3 weeks, which means community entry period is dunski. I am looking forward to starting work on projects both in my community and in Mpika in September. It will be great to see the other people from my intake at the training, then a group of about 15 of us are headed to Malawi for a week for our first official vacation! Yay for crazy tan-lines. :)
Hope all is well back home. I think about it a lot, although Zambia becomes more and more like home every day. Lately I've really been craving some pizza...that's delivered...to your door...a completely American concept that hasn't quite caught on in Zambia yet.
Much luv from AFRICA. :)
Katie
I went to church for the first time in my village. My neighbors are 7th day adventist so they go to church all day on saturdays. I didn't have much going on so I decided to join them a couple weeks ago. Like I've mentioned before, the singing here in Africa is beautiful. Not only do I hear it emenating at night sometimes from the village when the moon is bright and the kids stay out late, but people break into song at random and harmonize with no effort at all. It's like everyone knows their part from birth. The church choir made me stand up in front of everyone in the church while they sang a welcome song to me both in english and bemba. The minister came over and handed me a bible in English so I could follow along. Although I don't consider myself a very religious person and I don't adhere to one specific religion, I felt incredibly welcome and comfortable in this church full of people who don't speak my language and have a different set of beliefs. The sermon was on self-control and temperance, two things I never seem to have much of, but I was impressed with the minister's efforts to make me understand and even throw some English in, and I took the opportunity to work on my Bemba. The service was about 4 hours long and my brain hurt a little by lunchtime so I decided not to come back in the afternoon, but I made a resolve to try and go to at least one service at each church in Lufila. There is a Pentacostal church , Catholic church, and United Church of Zambia. Zambians love them some Jesus! :) If nothing else I'll go for the singing and to connect to more leaders in the community, because EVERYONE goes to church. I'll settle for saying my prayers before I go to bed at night. :)
Another crazy cultural experience I had was attending a women's initiation ceremony in my village. Gong show might be the only way to describe it...I couldn't compare it to anything in America. A couple younger women stopped by my hut just when it was getting dark one night and were saying something about dancing and how they wanted me to come with them. I was a little hesitant because, like pretty much every other encounter with Zambians I only understood about 10% of what they were saying, but decided to go with them. All I was going to do was crawl into my bed with a good book and go to sleep soon...BORING! Well we walked for about an hour to the other side of the village where there were a couple of fires going at someone's hut and lots of women sitting around the fire talking. I greeted all of them (something I've gotten quite good at...next step is more conversation, ha!) and sat with them around the fire for what had to have been a couple more hours, which was cool with me since it was getting pretty cold. The women seemed to vary in age from 20-70...maybe about 30 altogether. Some kept coming in and out of the hut and whatever was inside was a big secret. Finally the women told me I needed to pay to get inside, and of course I didn't bring any money so one of them loaned me 1,000 kwacha (about 30 cents) to get inside the hut. So there we all were, squished into this tiny hut with one candle burning in the corner. And in the center of the room is large falic symbol about a meter tall molded from clay with beans stuck into the sides and circular web of clay beneath it. In the corner were other clay figurines. One was a snake for sure...the others looked like miniature buddhas but I guess were pregnant women with baskets on their heads and babies on their backs and what may be inappopriate things to write about on this blog being done to them. I think these symbolized the "duties" of the women to their husbands. The ceremony was for girls who were about to get married, and was basically a way for the older women in the community to teach their daughters how to please their husbands and run their households. Of course they included me in the initiation (I'm proud to say I can now marry a zambian if I want...although the fact that I refuse to cook nshima and basically can't really cook in general or have a desire to pop out 10 babies makes the pool of zambian men who would want to marry me slim to none.) There was a lot of call and response chanting and singing while 3 women were consistently drumming in the corner. I got up and danced in the middle a few times and they LOVED to see my attempt to move my hips like they do. It must have been pretty comical, but I was really trying hard! As for the initiation, of course me and the other girls being initiated (mind you I'm almost 24 and they are maybe 14 or 15) had to first walk in circles around the falic clay molding, then dance around it, and finally sit on top of it. I'm all about participation in cultural experiences here, but I drew the line at this point. I'll dance till the morning light but hells no was I going to use that thing as a chair.
The dancing, singing, and drumming continued all night. It was so much fun but also taken very seriously by all involved. Women would take turns going in the middle of the circle and girating their hips like crazy. They even went so far as to pretend to be having sex with one another, while mothers pointed out to their daughters who was doing it the best. I was pretty much in shock the entire time, for as un-open as people are here about sex, put a bunch of Zambian women in a room together and there are no boundaries. Probably around 2:00 a.m. I was starting to doze off a little (remember my bedtime is usually around 8 p.m.), so they gave me a blanket and put me to sleep on a reed mat in the hut next door. I couldn't see anything but could hear a baby crying and children whispering, 'musungu! musungu!' (meaning 'white person' in bemba). I was exhausted and freezing so I curled up in the blanket and tried to doze off before any rats or mice scurried over. When the sun came up, the women came and woke me after having been up dancing the entire night. In the light of dawn it really hit me how simplistically Zambians live. I had not been inside another hut in my area, and it made me realize how much stuff I have compared to them. It was pretty empty except for a bed in one room, a reed mat, and a pile of potatoes in the corner. They had probably given me one of maybe two blankets that they owned so I could stay warm. Their own children were probably just using chitenges, yet they would never have let me give the blanket back. They share what they have, no matter how little, no questions asked.
We danced a little more and ate nshima, chicken, and beans for breakfast. I got back to my hut at 10 am and passed out for the rest of the day. It took a couple days to process what had just happened. It was an incredible experience that I feel so lucky to have gotten to the chance to partake in, and as a result I feel a lot closer with some women in my community. They are so eager to show me their traditions, it definitely made me feel more a part of my community. As I've mentioned before, I've never met such amazing women as I have in this country. If they could only realize the power they hold this country would change dramatically for the better.
Well I'm headed down to Lusaka for In-service Training in about 3 weeks, which means community entry period is dunski. I am looking forward to starting work on projects both in my community and in Mpika in September. It will be great to see the other people from my intake at the training, then a group of about 15 of us are headed to Malawi for a week for our first official vacation! Yay for crazy tan-lines. :)
Hope all is well back home. I think about it a lot, although Zambia becomes more and more like home every day. Lately I've really been craving some pizza...that's delivered...to your door...a completely American concept that hasn't quite caught on in Zambia yet.
Much luv from AFRICA. :)
Katie
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
It's all fun and games until someone almost drowns...
I can't believe how much has happened in the past few weeks. 5 months ago I would have looked at some of the events of the last month and been in shock that this is actually my life...but after 5 months living in the bush nothing seems to surprise me anymore. My life seems to be one gong show after the other...at times i want to laugh so i don't cry, but most of the time i love it. :)
I just hope I can even begin to truly convey my 4th of July adventure on this blog...I don't know if I've ever laughed so hard while also honestly fearing for my life. Here goes...
As I wrote previously, us Mpika gals celebrated the 4th of July at Kapishya Hot Springs, about 25k west of the Great North Road (my village turnoff, but in the opposite direction). It so far out in the middle of nowhere (hmm sounds familiar...) that they charge $100 USD just to pick up guests from the main road and $300 USD for transport up from Mpika. We all met at the turnoff and luckily Lonnie drove us in to the springs at no cost. The springs make a natural hot (perfect temperature) pool that feed a stream leading to the Mansha River. Senator Gore-Brown, the famed builder of Shiwa House about 20k from the springs, wanted a hot bath after hunting and was shown the springs by his Zambian neighbors. He liked them so much taht he built a cabin right next to them as a weekend getaway for his family. Mark, his grandson, now own the property and his family's cabin became a quaint lodge for guests as the springs were developed into a business to lure tourists. The whole place is a small slice of paradise with cute little chalets by the river, a huge garden, and lots of palm trees. It's a tiny traveler's oasis, the only place to stop and rest for a night or 2 for those traveling between Mpika and Dar es Salaam. There is a nice campsite also run by Mark and his fiance, Mel, on the property. Being Peace Corps volunteers this was clearly our most affordable option, and all of us love to camp so we brought all our gear plus food, pots, and pans and set up our tents right next to the river. We found ourselves feeling a little spoiled by actually having toilet seats to sit on and HOT showers! Camping was luxury compared to our homes in the Bush. We had the place all to ourselves the first night but Mark told us it would be a busy weekend with both the 4th and 2 Zambian holidays coinciding.
Can't forget we are still in Africa so it can get pretty HOT during the day, but it was heaven to sit in the springs at night before going to bed and wake up early every morning to warn ourselves up before th sun rose. We could also bathe in the springs! (I was the cleanest I had been in months...funny, but also kinda gross yeah?) The first morning in the springs we talked with Mark and he told us Lonnie had offered to pay for all 5 of us to go rafting on the river on Sunday (normally $100USD). He also asked if we wanted to have a meal served to us at the lodge on evening. We hadn't budgeted to pay for a meal at the springs and had brought plenty of food to cook over the fire, but he insisted on giving us an amazing deal for a main course on sunday night that we couldn't refuse. At this point it was Friday morning but our mouths were already watering looking forward to sunday!
We met a variety of travelers in our 5 days at the springs. 2 guys in their 20s (one American, one German) who both received their MBAs from Harvard spent a couple nights camping in the middle of a road trip from Capetown to Nairobi and then back to cape town by way of the east coast. We stayed up late talking with them, Mark, Mel, and a random German family about development in Zambia. Mark, although white with a british accent, is a true Zambian born and raised, who speaks fluent Bemba and English, and it was fascinating to listen to what he had to say about foreign aid to Zambia. When Zambia gained its independence in 1964 it was an economic powerhouse in Africa. In the past 44 years it has declined to the 11th poorest nation in the world. A peaceful country that has never experienced civil war, it is even poorer than other African nations that have been war-torn in the past. How does that happen? We talked a lot about what NGOs and free handouts have done to Zambia and how its almost created a culture of learned helplessness. We also discussed the importance of empowering the women here. Unless the women of this country are empowered to realized their own voice and strength Zambia will not develop, because it is the women who do all the work! Although the conversation was incredibly interesting, it reiterated a lot of frustrations we as Peace Corps volunteers experience in our villages. How do you work with the culture here to create sustainable development? No one knows the answer, but the conversation left me encouraged and a little inspired to back to work in my village. Zambians right now are caught between 2 worlds, 2 cultures, their indigenous way of life and that of the imposing western world. And the thing is, no matter how frustrated you get, you can't blame Zambians. But the fact is, Zambia will not develop sustainably until Zambians themselves want it to. It's all in their hands, and we as foreigners can help through education, as we are lucky to have grown up in a prospering country where education is valued by the government. It was great to hear a lot of different opinions regarding development, NGOs, and even Peace Corps.
One thing 2 months in the bush has turned us into is expert campers. there were 2 couples staying at the site next to ours and they said they could tell we had some experience with making fires, creative meals (more like throwing a bunch of stuff in a pot), and being resourceful. We brought our aquatabs along and filled up our nalgenes straight from the river, got our dishes spotless without soap, and stoked some pretty blazing fires with some matches, a little trash, and palm tree branches. One night this huge bus titled "Serengeti Team" pulled into the campground, fully equipped with sinks, tents on top, tables, chairs, spotlights, and old white people. Just a little ridiculous...at one point they were all eating fancy dinners with wine and had a spotlight out, a big fluorescent tubelight (bug zapper? p.s. it's cold season...not a lot of mosquitos) and each person was sporting a headlamp. They rised their hands from a faucet in the bus while a river flowed 10 feet away. I'm pretty sure they didn't speak to any other campers and they were gone by the time we woke up in the morning.
Sunday finally rolled around and were all pumped for a lazy river-esque ride on the raft and a gourmet meal in the evening. If we only knew what we were actually in for...
Although Mark did ask us if we had paddled before, his first cue to throw some lifejackets on board should have been when the raft took off minus 2 of us and headed straight into a tree. Second cue should have been when we spun in circles as Mark and Mel waved goodbye on the shore. So there we were, 5 naive American girls, heading down the crocodile-infested river in our bikinis with 3 wooden paddles and no lifejackets.
What we thought was going to be a lazy river with maybe some small rapids turned out literally to be whitewater rafting. We had lots of fun at first pretending we knew what we were doing, trying not to beach the raft on big rocks or run into thorny palm tree branches. It was of the course the first to be knocked out of the boat but luckily Kathy grabbed my hand just in time and pulled me back up. Trying to avoid hitting a tree, Danialle accidentally stabbed Becky with her paddle, and both bodies and paddles were pretty much flying everywhere as the might African river pushed us along. I'm not sure what caused it, but Kathy and I were the first to be completely knocked out of the raft. Kathy tried to grab my leg as I desperately reached for the raft but it was too late. I swam like a bat out of hell to catch up to the raft and the other girls helped me back on as we grabbed onto a tree to halt the raft and wait for Kathy to catch up. At this point we are all having some good laughs (mostly at my expense since I can't seem to stay in the boat and tend to slightly freak out when in water that may or may not contain a crocodile waiting to chomp off my limbs), celebrating every small victory over the rapids and thinking we can handle it, no problem.
Without warning, we are suddenly on the edge of a waterfall (not a huge one, but big enough that our raft would most likely capsize). All 5 of us go immediately into crisis mode. We stop the raft at the edge, get ourselves and our stuff out, and decide that our best bet is to get the raft over the waterfall and then all jump in afterward. While we are all yelling and not listening to eachother, Kathy slips and falls into the water and is being pulled toward the bottom of the waterfall. I've never seen Kathy stressed or worried before, but I will never forget the look on her face as she yelled to us for help. We were helpless, still standing on top of the waterfall with the raft, and the only thought going through my mind was do I remember my CPR from lifeguard traning because I'm going to have to jump into the falls after her. We were all panicking and trying to get the raft in the water as quickly as possible to get to Kathy, who luckily was now away from the falls but bobbing and floating quickly downstream. Of course the log we are balancing the boat on breaks and I am the only one left standing on top of the waterfall with no raft. I dove into the water and swam like my life depended on it to catch up to the raft. Kath was balancing on a rock downstream and I'm pretty sure none of us breathed until we were all 5 safely back in the boat. It was at this point that we realized we should definitely not be out on this river minus lifejackets, helmets, and someone who knows what they're doing. It didn't make matters better that we had no idea where the vehicle was picking us up to take us back to the springs. We stopped at a fork in the river and rested a little on the shore, asking ourselves what Mark could possibly have been thinking. We had no choice but to get back in the boat and keep on keepin' on. We went over one more small waterfall, this time all staying in the raft, paddled through some areas that looked like perfect crocodile hangouts, and conquered a few more rapids. I kept feeling as if I was in a zoo exhibit for Africa. It was pretty surreal hos beautifully and essentially African the river and area was. I have expected to see people watching us, safely on the other side of a glass barrier. 3 hours after starting off (we found out later the trip should have only taken 1.5 hours), we saw the vehicle that would bring us back to Kapishya. We survived! Although there's truth to the statement that we should not have been out there by ourselves on that river, we had teh time of our lives and I'm secretly glad Mark didn't warn us about it ahead of time. A rule of thumb in Africa is to go into every situation with no expectations...you just gotta go with the flow and have faith that things will work out.
We were still on a high at dinner that night, and it was the best meal I've since since I got to Zambia. What's funny is the main cours was lasagna, something I would have gotten too excited about back in America, but the cheese was creamy goodness and the entire meal was both prepared for us and different from what we eat here every day. We were literally licking the bowls and plates clean. There were 2 british girls from Lusaka eating with us at our table. Poor girls had to eat in self-defense out of fear that we might actually take the food off their plates. The other "higher-paying" customers at the 3-course table were taking their time eating and having intellectual conversation while we were inhaling our food while also still talking about food and laughing about our rafting experience earlier that day. We were like the kids' table at family gatherings!
Our stomachs both bull and satisfied for the first time in way too long, combined with feeling emotionally and physically drained from the trauma of the day...needless to say we slept like rocks sunday night. We decided to head back to our villages on Tuesday, so Monday night Becky and I ended up hanging out at the bar with Mark, Mel, and a bunch of Brits. Becky and I hung out behind the bar with Mark for awhile and although we probably spent more than we should have we bonded with Mark and Mel and they even bought us a couple rounds. :)
Althought the break was nice and refreshing, I was looking forward to getting back home to Lufila, especially to my nice warm bed. :) Of course my bike broke while cycling to the tarmac before going to the springs and I had to bike on 1 gear for about 20k, so before I could cycle back to Lufila I had to spend a couple days in Mpika and wait for Lameck, who works for the Peace Corps in Northern Province, to drive up to my turnoff where I had to leave the bike and attempt to fix it. I stayed a couple days with Becky and we decided on a whim to get braided extensions in our hair, called "Plaiting" in Zambia. Picture 2 white girls wandering through the market looking for "Pretty Woman" fake hair (the brand to get apparently). We settled on "Darling" in reddish-brown. Although we clearly look pretty ridiculous, we provided the village entertainment while 4 women braided our hair for about 5 hours. They even fed us! It was a fun day-long even and we figured if nothing else we would do it just for the humor factor. So now we have long Zambian braids (actually Becky's have already fallen out, but I'm still sporting mine), but we basically look Jamaican. :)
Turns out I'm quickly running out of kwacha, but I have some more crazy stories that I'll try to write about this weekend when I have to go to Kasama to extend my visa. Much luv from the African Bush! Hope all is well ku America. Miss you more than lasagna...:)
Katie
I just hope I can even begin to truly convey my 4th of July adventure on this blog...I don't know if I've ever laughed so hard while also honestly fearing for my life. Here goes...
As I wrote previously, us Mpika gals celebrated the 4th of July at Kapishya Hot Springs, about 25k west of the Great North Road (my village turnoff, but in the opposite direction). It so far out in the middle of nowhere (hmm sounds familiar...) that they charge $100 USD just to pick up guests from the main road and $300 USD for transport up from Mpika. We all met at the turnoff and luckily Lonnie drove us in to the springs at no cost. The springs make a natural hot (perfect temperature) pool that feed a stream leading to the Mansha River. Senator Gore-Brown, the famed builder of Shiwa House about 20k from the springs, wanted a hot bath after hunting and was shown the springs by his Zambian neighbors. He liked them so much taht he built a cabin right next to them as a weekend getaway for his family. Mark, his grandson, now own the property and his family's cabin became a quaint lodge for guests as the springs were developed into a business to lure tourists. The whole place is a small slice of paradise with cute little chalets by the river, a huge garden, and lots of palm trees. It's a tiny traveler's oasis, the only place to stop and rest for a night or 2 for those traveling between Mpika and Dar es Salaam. There is a nice campsite also run by Mark and his fiance, Mel, on the property. Being Peace Corps volunteers this was clearly our most affordable option, and all of us love to camp so we brought all our gear plus food, pots, and pans and set up our tents right next to the river. We found ourselves feeling a little spoiled by actually having toilet seats to sit on and HOT showers! Camping was luxury compared to our homes in the Bush. We had the place all to ourselves the first night but Mark told us it would be a busy weekend with both the 4th and 2 Zambian holidays coinciding.
Can't forget we are still in Africa so it can get pretty HOT during the day, but it was heaven to sit in the springs at night before going to bed and wake up early every morning to warn ourselves up before th sun rose. We could also bathe in the springs! (I was the cleanest I had been in months...funny, but also kinda gross yeah?) The first morning in the springs we talked with Mark and he told us Lonnie had offered to pay for all 5 of us to go rafting on the river on Sunday (normally $100USD). He also asked if we wanted to have a meal served to us at the lodge on evening. We hadn't budgeted to pay for a meal at the springs and had brought plenty of food to cook over the fire, but he insisted on giving us an amazing deal for a main course on sunday night that we couldn't refuse. At this point it was Friday morning but our mouths were already watering looking forward to sunday!
We met a variety of travelers in our 5 days at the springs. 2 guys in their 20s (one American, one German) who both received their MBAs from Harvard spent a couple nights camping in the middle of a road trip from Capetown to Nairobi and then back to cape town by way of the east coast. We stayed up late talking with them, Mark, Mel, and a random German family about development in Zambia. Mark, although white with a british accent, is a true Zambian born and raised, who speaks fluent Bemba and English, and it was fascinating to listen to what he had to say about foreign aid to Zambia. When Zambia gained its independence in 1964 it was an economic powerhouse in Africa. In the past 44 years it has declined to the 11th poorest nation in the world. A peaceful country that has never experienced civil war, it is even poorer than other African nations that have been war-torn in the past. How does that happen? We talked a lot about what NGOs and free handouts have done to Zambia and how its almost created a culture of learned helplessness. We also discussed the importance of empowering the women here. Unless the women of this country are empowered to realized their own voice and strength Zambia will not develop, because it is the women who do all the work! Although the conversation was incredibly interesting, it reiterated a lot of frustrations we as Peace Corps volunteers experience in our villages. How do you work with the culture here to create sustainable development? No one knows the answer, but the conversation left me encouraged and a little inspired to back to work in my village. Zambians right now are caught between 2 worlds, 2 cultures, their indigenous way of life and that of the imposing western world. And the thing is, no matter how frustrated you get, you can't blame Zambians. But the fact is, Zambia will not develop sustainably until Zambians themselves want it to. It's all in their hands, and we as foreigners can help through education, as we are lucky to have grown up in a prospering country where education is valued by the government. It was great to hear a lot of different opinions regarding development, NGOs, and even Peace Corps.
One thing 2 months in the bush has turned us into is expert campers. there were 2 couples staying at the site next to ours and they said they could tell we had some experience with making fires, creative meals (more like throwing a bunch of stuff in a pot), and being resourceful. We brought our aquatabs along and filled up our nalgenes straight from the river, got our dishes spotless without soap, and stoked some pretty blazing fires with some matches, a little trash, and palm tree branches. One night this huge bus titled "Serengeti Team" pulled into the campground, fully equipped with sinks, tents on top, tables, chairs, spotlights, and old white people. Just a little ridiculous...at one point they were all eating fancy dinners with wine and had a spotlight out, a big fluorescent tubelight (bug zapper? p.s. it's cold season...not a lot of mosquitos) and each person was sporting a headlamp. They rised their hands from a faucet in the bus while a river flowed 10 feet away. I'm pretty sure they didn't speak to any other campers and they were gone by the time we woke up in the morning.
Sunday finally rolled around and were all pumped for a lazy river-esque ride on the raft and a gourmet meal in the evening. If we only knew what we were actually in for...
Although Mark did ask us if we had paddled before, his first cue to throw some lifejackets on board should have been when the raft took off minus 2 of us and headed straight into a tree. Second cue should have been when we spun in circles as Mark and Mel waved goodbye on the shore. So there we were, 5 naive American girls, heading down the crocodile-infested river in our bikinis with 3 wooden paddles and no lifejackets.
What we thought was going to be a lazy river with maybe some small rapids turned out literally to be whitewater rafting. We had lots of fun at first pretending we knew what we were doing, trying not to beach the raft on big rocks or run into thorny palm tree branches. It was of the course the first to be knocked out of the boat but luckily Kathy grabbed my hand just in time and pulled me back up. Trying to avoid hitting a tree, Danialle accidentally stabbed Becky with her paddle, and both bodies and paddles were pretty much flying everywhere as the might African river pushed us along. I'm not sure what caused it, but Kathy and I were the first to be completely knocked out of the raft. Kathy tried to grab my leg as I desperately reached for the raft but it was too late. I swam like a bat out of hell to catch up to the raft and the other girls helped me back on as we grabbed onto a tree to halt the raft and wait for Kathy to catch up. At this point we are all having some good laughs (mostly at my expense since I can't seem to stay in the boat and tend to slightly freak out when in water that may or may not contain a crocodile waiting to chomp off my limbs), celebrating every small victory over the rapids and thinking we can handle it, no problem.
Without warning, we are suddenly on the edge of a waterfall (not a huge one, but big enough that our raft would most likely capsize). All 5 of us go immediately into crisis mode. We stop the raft at the edge, get ourselves and our stuff out, and decide that our best bet is to get the raft over the waterfall and then all jump in afterward. While we are all yelling and not listening to eachother, Kathy slips and falls into the water and is being pulled toward the bottom of the waterfall. I've never seen Kathy stressed or worried before, but I will never forget the look on her face as she yelled to us for help. We were helpless, still standing on top of the waterfall with the raft, and the only thought going through my mind was do I remember my CPR from lifeguard traning because I'm going to have to jump into the falls after her. We were all panicking and trying to get the raft in the water as quickly as possible to get to Kathy, who luckily was now away from the falls but bobbing and floating quickly downstream. Of course the log we are balancing the boat on breaks and I am the only one left standing on top of the waterfall with no raft. I dove into the water and swam like my life depended on it to catch up to the raft. Kath was balancing on a rock downstream and I'm pretty sure none of us breathed until we were all 5 safely back in the boat. It was at this point that we realized we should definitely not be out on this river minus lifejackets, helmets, and someone who knows what they're doing. It didn't make matters better that we had no idea where the vehicle was picking us up to take us back to the springs. We stopped at a fork in the river and rested a little on the shore, asking ourselves what Mark could possibly have been thinking. We had no choice but to get back in the boat and keep on keepin' on. We went over one more small waterfall, this time all staying in the raft, paddled through some areas that looked like perfect crocodile hangouts, and conquered a few more rapids. I kept feeling as if I was in a zoo exhibit for Africa. It was pretty surreal hos beautifully and essentially African the river and area was. I have expected to see people watching us, safely on the other side of a glass barrier. 3 hours after starting off (we found out later the trip should have only taken 1.5 hours), we saw the vehicle that would bring us back to Kapishya. We survived! Although there's truth to the statement that we should not have been out there by ourselves on that river, we had teh time of our lives and I'm secretly glad Mark didn't warn us about it ahead of time. A rule of thumb in Africa is to go into every situation with no expectations...you just gotta go with the flow and have faith that things will work out.
We were still on a high at dinner that night, and it was the best meal I've since since I got to Zambia. What's funny is the main cours was lasagna, something I would have gotten too excited about back in America, but the cheese was creamy goodness and the entire meal was both prepared for us and different from what we eat here every day. We were literally licking the bowls and plates clean. There were 2 british girls from Lusaka eating with us at our table. Poor girls had to eat in self-defense out of fear that we might actually take the food off their plates. The other "higher-paying" customers at the 3-course table were taking their time eating and having intellectual conversation while we were inhaling our food while also still talking about food and laughing about our rafting experience earlier that day. We were like the kids' table at family gatherings!
Our stomachs both bull and satisfied for the first time in way too long, combined with feeling emotionally and physically drained from the trauma of the day...needless to say we slept like rocks sunday night. We decided to head back to our villages on Tuesday, so Monday night Becky and I ended up hanging out at the bar with Mark, Mel, and a bunch of Brits. Becky and I hung out behind the bar with Mark for awhile and although we probably spent more than we should have we bonded with Mark and Mel and they even bought us a couple rounds. :)
Althought the break was nice and refreshing, I was looking forward to getting back home to Lufila, especially to my nice warm bed. :) Of course my bike broke while cycling to the tarmac before going to the springs and I had to bike on 1 gear for about 20k, so before I could cycle back to Lufila I had to spend a couple days in Mpika and wait for Lameck, who works for the Peace Corps in Northern Province, to drive up to my turnoff where I had to leave the bike and attempt to fix it. I stayed a couple days with Becky and we decided on a whim to get braided extensions in our hair, called "Plaiting" in Zambia. Picture 2 white girls wandering through the market looking for "Pretty Woman" fake hair (the brand to get apparently). We settled on "Darling" in reddish-brown. Although we clearly look pretty ridiculous, we provided the village entertainment while 4 women braided our hair for about 5 hours. They even fed us! It was a fun day-long even and we figured if nothing else we would do it just for the humor factor. So now we have long Zambian braids (actually Becky's have already fallen out, but I'm still sporting mine), but we basically look Jamaican. :)
Turns out I'm quickly running out of kwacha, but I have some more crazy stories that I'll try to write about this weekend when I have to go to Kasama to extend my visa. Much luv from the African Bush! Hope all is well ku America. Miss you more than lasagna...:)
Katie
Friday, June 27, 2008
Muli Shani! Since I just posted a week ago there is not much new to report, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to use internet next so I thought I would take advantage. I had to come to Mpika again this weekend to get my new malaria medicine, but it works out nicely because Becky is having a village party at her place tomorrow with food, music, dancing...should be lots of fun! The past week flew by in my village. It's crazy how time can go both slow and fast at the same time. I chucked the cat...gave it away to the little neighbor boy because it was driving me up the wall. It would not stop meowing and I knew it was time to get rid of it when I would secretly cheer on my puppy when it would attack the cat in the yard. So it's just me and little imbalala now, who is not so little anymore since after I feed her she trots over to the neighbor's house for nshima, which I refuse to make for myself, let alone the dog. Turns out I am absolutely not and will never be a cat person. (Although I might try to burrow one from someone in the village before rainy season to keep away the cats.)
Becky, Kathy, Jeanna, Danielle, and I are all going to the hot springs "near" my place to celebrate the 4th of July! I met with the owner, Mark, who is from the UK and whose brother runs Shiwa house, and I told him we were celebrating independence day. His response was, "celebrating high oil prices, and a bad president, huh?". Haha oh the british...they're just jealous because everyone is always celebrating their freedom from them. :) We are going to camp and grill out, and they even have showers and bathrooms at the campsite! It's the simple things in life...
I went for a run yesterday and at one point I could look out over the whole valley and see the large hill by the road that I have to bike to in order to get to Mpika. My booty hurt just looking at the distance, but the view was amazing...makes me wonder how I ever ran on a treadmill.
I hope you are all enjoying a HOT Minnesota summer! I miss the lakes so much, especially wakeboarding...can't do much of that here. No boat for one, and you'd probably get eaten by crocodiles if you fell in. Happy early 4th of July! Enjoy some extra sparklers for me. What do you think Mark would do if we set off fireworks at the springs? hmm... :)
Miss you all! Much love from zambia. :)
Katie
p.s. I can almost light my brasier without using my firestarters now...baby steps.
Becky, Kathy, Jeanna, Danielle, and I are all going to the hot springs "near" my place to celebrate the 4th of July! I met with the owner, Mark, who is from the UK and whose brother runs Shiwa house, and I told him we were celebrating independence day. His response was, "celebrating high oil prices, and a bad president, huh?". Haha oh the british...they're just jealous because everyone is always celebrating their freedom from them. :) We are going to camp and grill out, and they even have showers and bathrooms at the campsite! It's the simple things in life...
I went for a run yesterday and at one point I could look out over the whole valley and see the large hill by the road that I have to bike to in order to get to Mpika. My booty hurt just looking at the distance, but the view was amazing...makes me wonder how I ever ran on a treadmill.
I hope you are all enjoying a HOT Minnesota summer! I miss the lakes so much, especially wakeboarding...can't do much of that here. No boat for one, and you'd probably get eaten by crocodiles if you fell in. Happy early 4th of July! Enjoy some extra sparklers for me. What do you think Mark would do if we set off fireworks at the springs? hmm... :)
Miss you all! Much love from zambia. :)
Katie
p.s. I can almost light my brasier without using my firestarters now...baby steps.
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