I had a talk yesterday with a fellow volunteer in Zambia. I sat on the couch crying as we were talking. He told me that after he found out about what happened to me, he marched into Peace Corps Zambia and told them "something needs to change here". He has since been working with them to revamp and redesign the HIV Trainings that Zambia volunteers receive. One of the changes they have made is making it more relative to volunteers, by having current volunteers share their own personal stories of risk and relationships. This includes talking about things like taking PEP (Post Exposure Prophylaxis). He told me that there has been a huge influx in the number of volunteers coming in and requesting PEP in the past few months, volunteers are treating it like "the morning after pill".

I feel a bit conflicted about this supposed influx of PEP use. On one hand, it is good that people know about it and are able to request it in order to keep themselves safe. On the other hand, if there is in fact an increase in PEP requests, does that perhaps lead one to question the underlying reasons and factors... if more people are requesting PEP, does that mean more people are participating in risky behaviors? And if so, shouldn't the Peace Corps (and other organizations) question themselves on whether they are doing an adequate job of educating and preventing the risky behaviors to begin with? Yes, PEP saves lives, but shouldn't we make every attempt to mitigate the risks as much as possible before needing to take PEP?

Although a bit outdated, this is what the 2008 Volunteer Health Report says about PEP:

(It would be interesting to know what the rates have been like since 2008). In lieu of this, I've placed a poll question specifically for volunteers regarding PEP... maybe we can get a percentage.

I have also added a new poll question for everyone, regarding other STIs or STDs. It is important to realize that all of these should be talked about too, not just HIV. Just for some extra information, here is what the 2008 Volunteer Health Report has on STDs:

* Unchanged over 10 years. Ouch.

* Viral = forever. Bacterial = Curable

Hey everyone! I hope this finds everyone well! I am now officially finished with community entry, which is the first 3 months in our village. Now that I am finished with that, I can take advantage of 4 days per month at the Peace Corps House, and take vacation days and cultural days. Normally, volunteers [...]

Sunny regards from Zambia. It is not getting colder here...that's for sure! My skin is pealing off my nose and I consider using sunblocker even at nights.....!

The last days were like a Rollercoaster-ride....Let me start with Wednesday and Thursday. Actually There is not so much to say since I spent most of the day (and night !) in the bathroom. I realized that an upset stomach is part of every journey I made and Zambia would not be an exception. I lost about 3 kilos which I had to gain back on Friday. After a few hours at the office in order to let everybody know that I am alive and that it is NOT Malaria, Marten, Domi, and me went to the mall in order to enjoy a good, american meal. We made it our tradition to meet up on Fridays and get something to eat that contains neither Pasta nor Pasta....Did I mention that I eat a lot of Pasta?!

However, we witnessed an interesting aspect that appeared to be present in many other places in town. The head of the restaurant was an old, american Lady who thought it would be appropriate to criticize and complain about out personal (!) waitress in front of us. This power game was a disturbing picture since it made the whole prejudices we were told come true. A friend of me told me a couple of days earlier that some people still think that authority replaces humanness".

On Saturday we decided to leave for some excursion in order to benefit from the sunny (yes it was sunny again) weather. We headed to Munda Wanga which is an Environmental Park that takes care of all the animals that are too weak to be sent into the wild. We were the only visitors and we enjoyed the 45 minute walk along the compounds with lions,antilopes, and many other animals. It was weird since it felt like a zoo but these animals actually live in this country and have been born here as well. We are though really looking forward to see them in real wilderness. Funny story: Independent from each other, we looked up information about the same camp in Kafue National Park and decided to go the for a long weekend in March!

We spent a couple of hours at Arcades (the big shopping mall) and waited for the kick-off of the quarterfinal between Sambia and Sudan. Lucky enough we were at the bar quiet early so we got seats with good view. The places was crowded and the next two hours should be an experience I will never forget. I have seen many matches in many different places, from Argentinian fanatics to Swedish exctase on the couch with Ralle, but this was just amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazing. Ever single person was dancing, singing, shouting, cheering, screaming and everything that you can relate to movement and joy. It was very catching and soon enough we were joining the Zambians on the tables, cheering for the Chipolopolo and having local beers all together. Zambia won by 3 goals and on our way back we witnessed parades of cars, people dancing on driving (!) buses, dancing people on the roofs and not to be missed, the VUVUZELAS. I could still hear them when I got up the next morning.

Sunday was a lazy day...Highlights: Played soccer with the kids outside the gate. I was trying to keep up with the guys but they are quick...way too quick for me who is way out of shape.

I did laundry (hand wash only) and had to witness how our puppy (Sasha) ate up one of my socks that fell down from the rope.

Entering the third week, I feel good.....excited about many things to come and about this week's activities at school. I wish you all a good start in the week and post some pictures later today.

Mulenga Joe

<a href=”http://www.packforapurpose.org”><img src=”http://www.packforapurpose.org/images/pack-for-a-purpose-288×59.jpg” alt=”Pack for a Purpose” width=”288″ height=”59″ border=”0″></a> Pack for a Purpose (PfaP) is an NGO based in the U.S. that aims at facilitating the donation of goods to community projects in Africa. Many safari lodges and other … Continue reading →

February 5, 2012 It’s a strange feeling to be rebuilding yourself at the age of 26, yet that is where I find myself. Ever since accident I have been dealing with a lot of medical rebuilding such as healing, but I have finally entered the part of recovery that includes rebuilding my physical strength along with finding a balance to my life. Last weekend I attempted some simple yoga and stretches for the first time since the accident and while it felt really good at the time to be doing it I paid for it all of last week in extremely sore muscles, I had a hard time getting out of bed Monday morning. I didn’t realize how a back injury affects not just the back but the entire body. It’s like going back 15 years in my body’s strength and flexibility, and I have to take it slow on top of it. So frustrating to a person who likes to move forward and get things done. Learning to breathe and slow down on certain aspects of my life has been a learning process since coming to Zambia, a learning process I am still working on. The nice thing is that this has given me the space and time to start deciding where I want my life to go, not just for the rest of my service in Peace Corps, but afterwards as well. Over the last few months I have been blessed with books, people, articles, opportunities, and animals to help me along the path of discovering a new way in which to live my life. I have had my faith in life and the path I have chosen reinvigorated and am more excited than ever to continue with the adventure I am on. Being grateful for all that I have been given, both the good and the bad, knowing that what I give out comes back to me times three, and that the most important thing in life is love. As I end a week her at Munda Wanga that was filled with accomplishments, hard work, new ideas, inspiring words, and frustrations; I know that I am making a difference with each day I am here, not just with the work that needs to be done, but also with inspiring people. I have to remember that 2 out of the three Peace Corps goals deal with cultural exchange; it’s only the third goal to assist in development. I realize that each time I am out in the park, writing a blog entry, and lending a helping hand I fulfilling the 1st and 2nd goals. There are going to be days that are hard, people who are going to be frustrating to work with, injuries that will happen (oh boy do I know about this one), and patience that will be tested. I also know I am going to grow through this process. I am going to take things at my own pace, continue working on my own personal development and goals, and give as much as I possibly can to the people around me. I have to remind myself that I am running a marathon not a sprint here; 27 months in a foreign country living in not easy conditions requires pacing. I am not going to feel bad any more when I take a day off, or spend an afternoon reading or writing, I need it for my own personal health. I am so glad that I took the majority of this weekend to mentally recharge and reboot, I needed it mentally, physically, and emotionally. So far I am proud of what I have done, the choices I have made, and the obstacles I have overcome; hopefully I can continue with this in the future. I also want to say a very sincere thank you to all the people out there who have given me their support on this journey. I would not be here today without all of you, not kidding in the slightest. Without all the inspiring words and encouragement I would have taken the 1st plane home after the accident. To all the people who read my blog, write letters and emails, and those that call and we get a chance to talk; I cannot thank you enough for being part of my life. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to be surrounded by so many amazing and inspiring people. I only hope that I can be as helpful and inspiring as you have all been to me! Love and miss you all, Tammy

I live in the land of the Kaonde tribe. There are hundreds of tribes in Zambia that all speak a different language and have different traditions and culture. I experienced one of the Kaonde tribe’s interesting traditions last week. It is called the “flying coffin.” The rural people of Zambia experience lots of death. I [...]

160 readers responded to the question: Would you ever date someone who was HIV+?

52 (32%): Yes

108 (67%): No

Thank you for your honest responses. It is good to know where I stand.

February 4, 2012 I seem to have a talent for ending up at zoos with unreasonable management. I have had great managers in the past when it comes to work, but the only zoo where I have seen talented management was at Northwest Trek Wildlife Park. While I am in a very different role here at Munda Wanga (1. I am a un- paid volunteer, 2. I am not technically employed by Munda Wanga but by Peace Corps, 3. I am more of a consultant than a zookeeper), but I still have to deal with our management on a daily basis. Our manager wants something for nothing all the time, when it comes to volunteers, employees, or the general public. He also doesn’t respect his employees; I especially see this with the keepers. The keepers here work so hard and would put many zookeepers to shame in the United States and yes while they haven’t had a formal education they still know their stuff when it comes to their jobs. Not to mention they are not just in charge of their animals, but all of their upkeep as well (cutting grass in the park, fixing fences, electrical work, you name it they do it) and they do it for very little pay, even by Zambian standards and have very little supplies to work with. When I was at Fresno Chaffee Zoo the other keepers and myself would joke around that we needed magic wands and crystal balls to be able to do our jobs, I didn’t know that I would also need those items here, especially since witchcraft and magic are against the law in Zambia. Pardon for my rant, but I hate to see good people getting taken advantage of and yes while I can leave at anytime they cannot and I want to make as much of a difference here as I possibly can. One of the reasons I am working on motivating the keepers is because I can do as much work as I can, but my work will end when I leave if the keepers don’t have the time or the energy to carry on. Employees who are never rewarded for going above and beyond have no incentive to do so and have even less of an incentive if no matter what they do, good or bad, they are going to be yelled at. I have been in that very situation, especially at Fresno Chaffee Zoo, and I know how it feels. This is a major part of my reasons for leaving the zoo industry. While I still believe that I was supposed to end up at Munda Wanga, and that yes it is going to be a better way of ending my zoo career than Fresno Chaffee Zoo would have been, I now know more than ever that I am done with working in this field and that when I am done with Peace Corps I will move onto a new career path. Not am I just done physically (with my back injury I doubt I could be a fulltime keeper again), but I am also mentally done with it. I am truly hoping that I can make a positive change here, not just for the animals but for the staff as well. Anyway I will close for today! Love and miss everyone at home, Tammy

Hello everyone. Long time, no update. The provincial house has been without internet for the past two months, which makes it quite difficult to do any updating of blogs or checking of Facebook. But, this is Africa, so I roll with it as best as possible. Right now, I'm in Lusaka. I sat on a panel for some of the newer volunteers and spoke about the realities of dating a local. I emphasized the importance of using condoms and getting tested for HIV regularly. And, of course, I talked a bit about some of the cultural differences and trying to compromise. But, that's a topic for another time. What I want to do today is mostly a picture blog featuring Mshawa Basic School. The fundraiser is going well. We've raised close to $1000 for the school, putting us almost halfway to the goal of $2000. I'd like to close out the fundraiser end of February, so if you haven't donated, please think about giving a little bit to the school. Hopefully, the pictures of the school, teachers and students will help people understand a bit more of the reality of rural schools in Zambia. So, let's get started!

The pictures below are of the classrooms. The first classroom is the nicest. In fact, it's been renovated since I came to the community. I remember my first three months at site passing the school and seeing the students having classes outside under the trees. The government funded the renovation project.

This next classroom building is basically what the entire school looked like before the renovation project. Despite its dilapidated appearance, it is still be used for classes. I actually sat in on a exam that was being given in the classroom pictured below the building. Not the most comfortable environment for learning.

The school is in a beautiful location, though. The view behind the classrooms is a lovely valley surrounded by forested mountains. The valley holds maize fields and grounds for sporting events, mostly soccer.

Below is a picture of my counterpart at the school, Mr. Mukelabai Mataa, Senior Teacher. He's standing in the doorway of his house. Teachers are provided housing by the school system, though in extreme rural areas the housing is sub-par. In my opinion, this house is a bit better than some I've seen and nicer than my house, but many schools have a difficult time attracting teachers because of the rough living conditions.

Another teacher standing outside of the same classroom pictured above. He'd just finished teaching for the day.

The next pictures are from the first garden project. On this day, the children transplanted rape (a local green) from nursery beds into the garden. 

The children, well and all Zambians in general, LOVE posing for pictures. Here some of the students hold up a bunch of rape as they prepare to transplant.

These boys are preparing a nursery bed for other vegetable crops.

And, Mataa helps to water in the transplants. As you can see, despite the rural conditions, Zambians take pride in dressing professionally for their jobs.

This is the second garden project. Some animals broke into the first nursery and ate a bunch of seedlings, so the school constructed a fence for their onion nursery. I was impressed with the ladder entry method.

Some of the students watering the onion seedlings.

And, watering the msangu seedlings. I mentioned it before but msangu is a tree that can be planted in fields to increase fertility and decrease the use of chemical fertilizers.

And, that's the end of the tour of Mshawa Basic School. The teachers and students are putting in an effort to raise money, too. So, please, please, please, think about donating for books. Go to www.gofundme.com/mshawa to donate. Any amount is welcome, and if for some reason, you cannot donate using paypal, please send me an email at mshawabasicbooks@gmail.com and I'll send an address that you can mail a check.

I'll try to check in sooner next time, maybe with some more personal stories. Can y'all believe that I've been here for almost a year. Time is flying, and I'm happy here in Zambia. I already know that leaving will be difficult. :) Wishing all of you the best!

I met with a counselor for the first time today. She is someone who works at an HIV Organization, and she usually deals with more drug and substance abuse counseling on an emergency and/or temporary basis. Luckily though, she is willing to meet with me as needed until my insurance issues get settled out and I can find a more permanent counselor elsewhere.

Our talk went fine, and as is typical for me (judging from my counseling sessions in D.C.), we talked much longer than we were supposed to. It is kind of funny though, because it is not really like we talked much about my own issues, more just hung out and talked in general.

There were a few things that we talked about though, that I thought might be good to share. She told me of a woman who feels so much fear and stigma, that she disguises herself when coming to the HIV Office. This woman has been hiding in fear for years, unable to share her status with family or friends. In a way, she has isolated herself from her life and the world. She still can’t move on from blaming herself for the choices that she made (which were not even unusual or risky choices to begin with). She is afraid to form new friendships or relationships. She is totally alone, and struggling to keep herself going.

The counselor also told me of another man who recently passed on. He had been HIV+ for 20 or so years. However, she feels that it wasn’t necessarily the disease that killed him, but rather the constant mental and emotional stress of dealing with the disease that finally wore him down.

These aren’t isolated stories. These are the stories of HIV+ persons all around the world. I feel so much sadness and pain when I think about it. Why should the world judge and discriminate against people with this disease so much that they are forced to withdraw from the world and isolate themselves in fear and shame? Why is there so much shame and blame associated with this disease, but not with other diseases? Why aren’t people who smoke or who are overweight shunned or judged for the choices that they make on a daily basis?

As we talked more about the woman who feels so stigmatized, we came to another conclusion… that perhaps there is just as much stigma within her own mind, as there is in others. Perhaps by hiding and feeling ashamed and assuming that no one will accept her, she is never giving anyone the chance to.

I shared what I have learned from my own experiences… that coming out in the open with my status was surely a very scary thing to do. I was terrified of how people could or would react. But, I took that plunge, and I made the determination to share my story, and to educate… to spread awareness as best as I could. And in turn, what have I received? Overall love, support, and acceptance. People are responding on a gigantic scale. Sure, some are upset and confused and worried at first. Sure, some feel awkward and unsure about what to say or how to act. But with more and more discussion comes more and more knowledge and information. And with that information comes more and more comfort and support.

I cannot lock myself away. I cannot hide and stigmatize myself in my own mind. If I had, if I do, I will just begin to crumble and deteriorate under the stress of it all.

I finally just counted up and organized all of the countries that I know for sure that my blog has been read in. I've been trying to keep track of this on an ongoing basis, but I know that I have missed some. Blogger only allows me to see the Top 10 viewing countries each day, and if I don't stay on top of it, they are are replaced with new ones. When this blog really exploded and was being passed all around, I have to admit I got a little overwhelmed and lost track. But, anyways, here is what I have managed to record...

ArgentinaArmeniaAustraliaAustriaAzerbaijanBangladeshBelgiumBotswanaBrazilBulgariaBurkina FasoCambodiaCanadaCape VerdeChiliColombiaCroatiaCubaDenmarkDominicaDominican RepublicEcuadorEl SalvadorFalkland IslandsFijiFranceGeorgiaGermanyGhanaGuatemalaHondurasHong KongIndiaIrelandIsraelIstanbulItalyJapanJordanKenyaLesothoLiberiaMalawiMaliMexicoMongoliaMoroccoMozambiqueNamibiaNicaraguaNigeriaNorwayPanamaParaguayPeruPuerto RicoRwandaSenegalSierra LeoneSingaporeSouth AfricaSouth KoreaSt Vincent & GrenadinesSurinameSwazilandSwedenSwitzerlandTanzaniaThailandTrinidad & TobagoTurkeyUgandaUkraineUnited Arab EmiratesUnited KingdomUnited StatesVenezuelaVietnamZambiaI am so happy that people have found this blog to be both helpful and interesting. Please keep passing it along. HIV needs to be talked about more. People need to be aware of and educated about it. I will do my best to keep up with it, and keep bringing you useful information.

P.S. If you are reading this blog in a country not shown on my list, please let me know. Thanks!

Today's run

Weather: Too warm for February 3. I think we humans broke the weather.

Traffic: None @ 5:30am

Time: ~50 minutes

My running partner was unavailable (zzzzzzzzzzzz....) so I set out solo on the almost seven mile loop from my house, around Stephens Lake Park and back. It was clear when I started out but now as the morning sky comes into focus more after sunrise there is a solid cloud cover. Sharon Ray told us to expect rain all day today.

I feel strong as the marathon gets closer. The Sedalia Half Marathon may be calling as a warm up next month. I love the quiet of the morning punctuated by only a few bird songs, malfunctioning droning street lights and the sound of me breathing. Deeply and evenly. I run for exercise yes but also for the solitude and the space. My best thoughts come to me when I am on a run. I may not recall them when I get home and on with my day, but there is a certain clarity I enjoy after a solid workout.

"When a man journeys into a far country, he must be prepared to forget many things he has learned, and to acquire such customs as are inherent with existence in the new land …                                             For the courtesies of ordinary life, he must substitute unselfishness, forbearance, and tolerance. Thus, and only thus, can he gain that pearl of great price – true comradeship. He must not say 'thank you,' he must mean it without opening his mouth, and prove it by responding in kind. In short, he must substitute the deed for the word, the spirit for the letter." –Jack London

I couldn't find work. Or, more accurately, I couldn't find anyone that was the right combination of industrious and crazy to work with me. That's why I started my small demonstration plot. It was an attempt to prove my worth to the village and it was something to do. I didn't really have a clear strategy for my plot when I started because I hadn't really thought it through. I just started digging. I did what I was asking others to do: dig basins early to enable timely planting when the rains come in November.

Digging isn't easy. Especially when it hasn't rained a drop in 6 months and it's 90° at night. I started to understand why farmers generally treat October as a month of rest and why they weren't listening to the white guy telling them to dig early. Still, I kept digging. I did most of my work between 5 and 7 am to avoid the heat and to give myself the rest of the day to look for people that were the right combination of industrious and crazy.

When the rains came, I was ready and I planted maize. And I kept digging. A month later, I planted peanuts and soybeans. I stopped digging and I started weeding. Then I harvested 9 bags of maize, 2 bags of unshelled peanuts, 1 bag of shelled soybeans, and 1 bag of velvet beans – each bag is 50 kg. My plot was small – about ½ a football field – but my harvest wasn't.

Somewhere in between the digging and the harvesting, I found work. I had 9 people that were the right combination of industrious and crazy. I had my plot and their plots as demonstrations. I had bush-cred and I had the attention of farmers – most were industrious, but some were crazy.

That was all last year. This year I have work. I have 67 farmers employing the techniques that I demonstrated in my field in a total area greater than 100 football fields. I put a lot more time into training the audience that my field gave me. And instead of having farmers visit me at my field, I visit them at theirs to offer advice and encouragement. I am pleased by the results of my field.

There were plenty of reasons for me not to continue my field this year; I had work, I didn't need to prove my worth as an agriculturalist, I was busy with Peace Corps programs and Kilimanjaro, it's hard work, and I won't even be around to harvest it. But I didn't put much thought into any of that. I just started digging. I even coerced my visitors and my wife to help in the field this year.

It was a bigger undertaking this year than last. It's almost twice as big and everything is planted now; the maize, the soybeans, the peanuts and the velvet beans. This year, like last year, the field was partly about leading by example and partly about having something to do – not much else happens before 8 am. But I had work this year. I had farmers to meet with and to train and I had their attention and respect. Still, no one but my closest neighbors have seen my field or seen me working in it this year. This year my field isn't about that.

This year my field is about saying, "thank you." This year my field is about saying, "goodbye."

For the past two years I have been housed, fed and cared for by two of the most sincere, selfless, hard-working people I have ever met. My field is for them. When I go, the crops will be mature and almost ready for harvest. They don't need the food and they don't really need the money that selling it will give them. But for the past two years they have treated me like a son and my field will be a quiet and earnest 'thank you' from a son to his Zambian parents. It's a 'thank you' in a language they speak more fluently and more frequently than Bemba or English.

I would give them the world if I could, but for them, and for now, my field is enough.

The first month of this new year was a busy one for volunteers in Southern Province. We had been waiting for months to finalize the lease for a new base of operations and quite suddenly the call was made. Stepping off of the plane, B and I were informed that we had a little over a week to move everything out of the old Provincial Resource Center and into a new site about one kilometer away. Abrupt changes to the existing game plan are par for the course in Zambia and although distressing, the news was proof positive that we had returned and came as a reassurance that everything was as we left. Volunteers from all over the province came in to pull off a successful move and all of our office equipment, furniture, and personal affects were relocated within a matter of days. In that first night, tried and tired on the floor under our mosquito nets propped up on so much carriage, we took comfort in knowing with certainty that we had come back to our home away from homes.

Much had to be done to make our new headquarters a functioning office. Documents sorted, doors refurbished, and shelves built to give everything a place. My modest carpentry skills were put to good use despite having to take a brief rest enforced by Peace Corps Medical Office. The rapid change in climate opened my immune system to attack and somewhere between the rain and dusty furnishings I found the time to come down with a bacterial infection in my throat. A regiment of sleep and penicillin did the trick and I was back on my feet in no time. I headed to nearby Kalomo with Chisco, a local bio-gas producing farmer, to check on the progress of a bio-gas digester installation at the local abattoir and recover from the rains with an unexpected dose of sunshine. As you can see from this picture of Kapapa farm road, the rains have been generous, and I arrived on site to find the digester dome filled with about 40 centimeters of water.

The digester is being built at a sizable slaughterhouse within Kalomo BOMA. Owned by a prominent political figure in Zambia, the abattoir will significantly reduce the environmental impact of meat and hide processing activities once the digester is complete. Sixty to eighty head of cattle end their earthly lives here everyday and generate a large amount of waste in the process. This digester will turn that waste into methane gas which will both treat the waste before introduction into the local ecosystem and produce fuel for boiling water, cooking, and processing hides. It is exciting to be working on a project that will advance the cause of green development by linking a nationally recognized political figure to bio-gas. The sun has come out in Zambia and it is a beautiful day.

Chisco and I check out the mornings waste output from the abattoir. Not a pleasant smell but a beautiful thing for bio-gas production.

~

February 1, 2012

Our Crocodiles

This week seems to a never ending string of surprises and intrigue. I went up to the keepers area to meet them at 8 AM meeting to find no one but our head keeper Raphael waiting for me. As it turns out all the keepers were at a meeting for becoming a union. I am personally very happy for the keepers that they are taking control of what they deserve. I am in support of the workers in most cases because they do more than anyone in management comprehends, also I have been in their shoes the majority of my life and I know how badly management can take advantage of their staff if given the opportunity. The management here claims that a union is going to be the fall of Munda Wanga, but to me a staff that is well represented and taken care of is much more hard working and cares much more about their jobs. When management can only find fault with them and their work it makes for a very unmotivated or caring staff, it won’t matter what they do right they will only be criticized for what isn’t perfect.

The Store Room Mess

Attempting to Sort the Mess

Due to the meeting I wasn’t able to get started on collection lists right away as planed so I jumped into cleaning out the dry storage area with Lauren one of our vet volunteers and with Debra a young local volunteer wanting more animal care experience. As you can see from the before and after pictures we were able to accomplish a lot in a very short amount of time. We sorted, cleaned up a massive rat nest that was living within their food horde and managed to kill 6 of the unwanted house guests, and made what was a mess into a clean and organized storage closet. The dry storage area is also going to be home to our enrichment supply area. I am currently beginning to receive donations from the surrounding community and will hopefully have an enrichment club up and running within the next couple of months.

What it looked like after cleaning, organizing, presure washing, and rat killing.

This afternoon I meet up with the vets from Zambian Wildlife Authority (ZWA) and was able to come and observe Shumba’s treatment again. Her paw in just the last few days has made a remarkable recovery from just last week! Thank you all very much for thinking positive thoughts. The infection is gone and the one big thing holding her back is that when she is licking her wound she is also licking off the new skin that is beginning to form. So the vets decided on a new strategy, today we bandaged the wound to see if it would help the healing process. We covered the bandage with a wool stock that we then medically taped on and covered with a bitter liquid that would hopefully deter her form biting or licking it. We are going to monitor it for the next 48 hours and then check to see how it goes. So again I am going to ask for all the good thoughts possible to be sent Shumbas way!

Top View of Paw

All Bandaged Up

I was, after all that happened today, able to complete all my plans for the day, I even found Emanuel, one of the Hoof stock and Bird keepers, a book on the Birds of Zambia. I was able to play the training game with the keepers again for a few minutes and the more we play the better they get and understand the reasons why we are playing. I was also able to accomplish the collection lists for primates and Hoof Stock, quite an accomplishment. I also had a very heart to heart talk with our head keeper Raphael. He told me that the keepers love me, but they are so afraid that I am going to change like other volunteers in the past and become unapproachable and underhanded. I assured him that this was not the case that the person he sees now is what he will get always. It was very nice to hear that what I am doing here is really making a difference not only in the lives of the animals, but in the lives of the keepers as well, and that I am wanted here was great to hear. I really think that I was destined to come to Munda Wanga, long before I even applied to Peace Corps. I do believe in higher powers knowing the best course of action for a person and how to make that happen. I am living proof at the moment.

Jeff and Pheri After the doing the Primate Collection List

Also an update on the kitten that is so nicely sleeping on my lap at the current moment, Galahad is doing great! He is now hitting his litter box 99% of the time, got his nails trimmed (although it is now

harder for him to climb into bed), received a bath this week (trust me when I say he needed it), and is eating well and growing like a weed. He is becoming a true comfort to me and I am so glad that I have him, as unexpected as it might have been.

Anyway enough of my chit-chat for the time being, goodnight to all, and may you all be as blessed as I have been lately. Love and miss you all, Tammy

1/31/2012

One year ago today, I got on a plane to Philadelphia for staging for the Peace Corps. One year ago today, I met the other 28 volunteers that I was to spend my next 2 years in Zambia with. I can't believe so much time has passed already. I can't believe I am here, instead of there. Of the 29 of us that started that journey a year ago, 7 of us are already back home... 3 due to Medical Separation, and 4 due to Early Termination. 22 brave volunteers remain. I wish them luck, happiness, and good health as they continue on in the journey that we others could not quite complete. Happy Anniversary REDs 2011. Do us proud!

So it is officially February 2012, that makes a year of Peace Corps service. Well technically I think I was on the plane on Feb 1st last year, but I’m counting it. To mark the occasion I got to host first site visit for the new RED’s coming in this year. It was a blast, I tried to give them an experience of everything. I took them to school to observe classes and talk to the teachers. My HIV support group came over to talk to them about working in the community. My favorite part though was making a huge Zambian dinner with Nshima, chicken, chiwowa (pumpkin leaves), soya, soupu, and potatoes. My counterpart came over and helped us kill the chicken (well the trainees did) and cook. The people at the dinner included teachers, villagers, my host family, my pcv neighbor, and the new volunteers – it was pretty great. It was really heartwarming to see all the people my village that matter to me in one place sharing a meal. Happy anniversary Zambia.

February 1, 2012

My already hectic grand plans for Monday became more complicated when Simon, our driver here at Munda Wanga, came up to me and asked me if I were ready to go. I had just finished measuring the cooler / refrigerator for shelving with our head keeper Raphael and was about to sit down with him and begin designing the shelving at this point and was totally confused. I had been planning on going with Simon and Raphael the next day, Tuesday, on their weekly shopping trip but not today. Just then my cell phone rang and it was Fred, my manager, and he told me that he wanted me to go with Simon and the primate keeper Pheri to a friend of his house and catch a wild Vervet monkey that had taken up residency on her property and was starting to steal food from her pet Vervet monkey. Having pet Vervet monkeys is such a bad idea and yet it seems to be a common problem here in Zambia since they are so common. Normally, trapping a wild animal is something that Zambia Wildlife Authority (ZWA) would do but the lady was afraid to call them because she didn’t have a permit for her Vertvet Monkey pet and didn’t want it to be taken away. As it turns out her pet Vervet monkey was found and raised by her 15 years ago, before there were good options for rehabilitation and release, which is why she still has it. The vets and I convinced Fred to still go to ZWA and talk to them about the situation. Partly because the woman should have a permit for a full grown male Vervet monkey, and also because taking the monkey away from here at this point would be devastating to the monkey, the only person he has ever known his whole life. You can change up a primates “family” when they are young, but the older they get the harder this becomes and at 15 years of age it would be impossible.

So off we went to attempt to capture a wild Vervet. Once we arrived at her house it was easy to see why the wild Vervet decided to stay around. She had a very large property full of fruit trees and on top of it she was offering the little guy food to stop him from getting into her monkeys food. Pheri and I step up the catch cage and waited for oven an hour for an appearance but never did see the little guy. So we left the cage full of food so he could get used to it and would come back another day. I felt bad for Pheri, because he still had the entire primate section to take care of since he was the only primate keeper on staff that day and by the time we got back it was close to 1 PM.

Vervet monkeys I have the feeling as going to become a thorn in my side before too much longer. I’m glad that Coco arrived before I realized how big of an issue pet Vervet monkeys are here in Zambia. There are so many people, mainly white people “mazoongooes”, who either buy the babies from people selling them on the side of the road or they somehow are given the babies to raise. The best option for both the monkey and the people would be to turn the baby over to a sanctuary or rerelease program right away. Many times sanctuaries, like Munda Wanga, have surrogate moms for the babies and other youngsters for them to be friends with, even if they are not visibly on display. The worst thing a person can do is hang onto the monkey for months until they are completely attached to humans and no longer recognize monkeys as themselves. When Coco arrived here he was very close to this point, but we got him with a female Vervet the day after he arrived. Yes he took some time to adjust, but now he no longer looks to humans as friends at all, he looks to other Vervets.

This last weekend I had a family come out with a 5 month old Vervet female named Mojo who had been raised from the time she was a day or two old by the couple and they were just now looking for a place to put he,r because guess what she was turning into an adult monkey. They did not want to bring her to Munda wanga because they didn’t want her put in a cage, however as they were told by ZWA Munda Wanga is their only option because we are the only rehabilitation and release program for Vervets currently in Zambia. So the lady called me yesterday to inform me that she will be after all brining Mojo to us next week. I am worried for Mojo because she is going to have a very complicated transition. She has never been around other monkeys and from as far as I can tell her family spoiled her and let her get away with anything she wanted to. These things are going to make it that much more difficult for her to integrate with the other Vervets.

A quick note about yesterday, I went with Raphael and Simon on their weekly shopping trip. First we went to Freshmark, the distribution center to all Shoprite grocery stores in the country, to pick up their less than perfect castoffs. We loaded up the majority of our pick-up truck with a variety of fruits and veggies. It was really cool getting to see a distribution center in Zambia, it really wasn’t much different from America in the way it functioned.

Then we were off to Soweto Market. Now not many white people ever go to Soweto market because it is dangerous and dirty, not even well to do Zambians go to Soweto Market. However we went because of their super cheap prices on produce. While most of our produce is donated we still need to supplement with corn, cabbage, and cucumbers. So off I went with my two “body guards” and went into Soweto market. To say I stood out would be an understatement. I was the only white person for miles around and I am really glad that I had absolutely nothing on me that could be stolen because I doubt I would have made it out with it. Everyone was yelling mazoongoo mazoongoo! As Raphael translated for me most of the men, the majority of them rather drunk (and this was 9 AM in the morning) kept shouting how beautiful I was, and would I marry them, one who thought I was Raphael’s wife asked if he could buy me from him. It was shall we say a very interesting experience. I also couldn’t go up to the produce places with Raphael until he negotiated a price because they would hike up price just because I’m white, the local white people call it “skin tax” because everything at a market is more expensive for white people than black people. Here are a couple of pictures Raphael took with his phone of me at the market. It was a very interesting and productive day and I was able to see a side of Lusaka that most Peace Corps volunteers would never get to see.

Love and miss you all, Tammy

Today's run

Weather: 40 at 5:15am

Traffic: None

Time: ~45 minutes

My running partner and I are back on. He has been out of the loop for running with me the last few weeks. Mike said that if we were dating I would have broken up with him by now. I returned with that I merely would have said that I was taking a break to get my stuff straight.Either way, I like running with someone else. Knowing that my running partner is waiting for me at 5:15am to run 7 miles is a motivator.

Transportation in Zambia is difficult. In rural Zambia not everyone has cars. People rely on their bikes or walking. To get further distances people hitchhike or take a minibus. And as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I rely on the same modes of transportation that the local villager relies on.

In my village there is only one car. It belongs to Mr.Zhiomi, one of the teachers. Besides that vehicle, occasionally another vehicle will drive by. Usually a truck bringing fertilizer, transporting maize, or a government vehicle coming for a program. When these vehicles pass, If I'm not already outside, I run outside to see which vehicle is making its way through Kawama. I stare it down like I've never seen a vehicle before.

Locally, people walk everywhere. They walk to their farm, walk to the chigayo, walk to church or to a funeral,etc. I see women walking with babies on their back, with no shoes, carrying a bundle on top of their head. When asking where they are going they say a funeral in Shukwe. Shukwe is an hr in a half walk away. Many people even have to walk 3+ hours to town, to get to the hospital, because they have no other way to get there.

Having a bike in Zambia is like having a car. They not only carry one person but also that person's family and their goods. It is normal to see a man biking with a child sitting on the bar in front and a women on the back of the bike, with a baby on her back. Or its normal to see a goat, many bags of charcoal or maize being carried on the back as well.

Peace Corps gives every Volunteer a bike. It's a Trek bike from America. I regularly have Zambians surrounding my bike 'oohing' and 'awwwing' it. I bike to town (1.15 bike ride) every so often or bike long distances to visit other volunteers. Around my community I use my bike as well or just end up walking.

Getting further distances is more tricky. A lot of the village Zambians don't travel far distances due to money but the teachers and other government workers often have wives in major towns (i.e. Solwezi) so they tend to go there once a month to visit them. There is a mini bus that most take. It is usually overloaded with people and goods. Although they drive super quick, they always end up leaving two hours late and it ends up taking much longer to get to the destination. The other way is hitchhiking, which is cheaper and quicker.

I usually travel to Solwezi once a month. It is about three hours away. I get to the side of the road early. If I see a car, I stand on the side of the road and stick my arm out to the side and move my arm up and down. There is very little transport on the tarmac, which is the main road that goes to Solwezi(I have to bike 6km to get to the tarmac). On average I wait around 5 hours to get a ride. And once I get a ride it's another 3 hours.

One difficulty with transport in Zambia is that the vehicles and bikes are not well maintained. They are old and rundown. There have been several times that I have been in vehicles that have broke down in the middle of nowhere. Today I had a ride with a vehicle that one of the car doors had to be held closed with a wire. But besides the vehicles being in poor condition, it is safe to hitchhike in Zambia. Zambians are generally very friendly people.

Round Round get around, I get around. Slowly but surely.

Here just a few pictures from today's PE lesson with the 2nd grade. Today we were focusing on football drills and the importance of hygene!

January 29, 2012I was able to start my absolute favorite activity this week with the keepers; animal training! I know that I am going to have to take it slow and in small steps but I have no doubt that the keepers are going to get and eventually become great at it. Working here with the keepers is a constant learning process for both sides. For me I am having to find the ways to successfully integrate my ideas, suggestions, and knowledge in ways that for Munda Wanga work. It does no good for me to introduce things that are not sustainable because once I am gone it will fall apart. One of the barriers that I am working against is language. While some of the keepers speak good English others are not as well versed and the local language that everyone speaks is Nyanja not Bemba so I have no background in that at all. Luckily the keepers are all willing to help communicate what I am saying between each other when one of them isn’t getting what I am saying. The language in its self is becoming a team building activity. The keepers are also learning American things like high fives, and new terms like “guinea pig” when talking about trying something new. This week I introduced the basics of training, Cues and Bridges. The bridge as I told the keepers is the term that is used to tell the animal “good job”. I went on to explain how it can be anything, but once you decide what the bridge is going to be you need to keep it clear and concise to be able to have clear communication with the animal. I then described what a cue is, it’s the way you tell the animal what you want them to do. The most basic steps of animal training, but also the most important ones a trainer is ever going to use. I then had them all stand up and I introduced the “Training Game” to them. The “Training Game” is when you have two people partner up and one becomes the trainer and the other becomes the trainee. The object of the game is for the trainer to get the trainee to do a behavior (something clear and simple like clapping hands, tapping a foot, spinning in a circle, etc), but all the trainer can say is the bridge, which in the case of the keepers is the word yes. As we started our first round it was taking the keepers over 5 minutes each session just to begin figuring out how best to play the game. The great thing about the training game is it places the keepers in a position to feel like the animals do when a new behavior is being trained and it helps them become better trainers because they understand how clear and specific they have to be. I was impressed with the progress we made in just one day; it was very exciting to see the light bulbs go on in the keeper’s heads as they began to understand the concept better and better. The next day, Friday, I went back up to play again, only this time I added more on. I began to explain how the trainers excitement, tone of voice, and body language can contribute to communication. For instance instead of just saying a dull yes every time the trainee does a behavior add more excitement and intensity when the behavior gets closer and closer to the end goal. With this tad bit of knowledge the keepers went from taking over 5 minutes to reach the end goal to under a minute. Once they did so well with that I added on the next piece the “no”. Now in training using a no, or in training lingo a Redirective Stimulus (RS), is very controversial. Some trainers refuse to use it I personally think that it is very helpful. If you could imagine looking for a hidden object in a room and you only ever were told “hot”, as in getting closer, it would be much more difficult to find the object than if you were given both “hot” and “cold” so you knew when you were going in the wrong direction. When I train I use “no” as a way to tell the animal when they move in the wrong direction, I do not use it as a punishment, which I think is where a lot of the confusion comes from on the topic of “no”. I now gave “no” to the keepers to add to their communication toolbox, and we played the game again. This time all the keepers hit their end behaviors in 10 – 15 seconds instead of 5 minutes as it was taking just 24 hours ago. If you could imagine my jubilation at their success and progress I was through the roof. Not only had they improved on their skills successfully but they also did it in a way that was fun. We were all laughing and joking by the time we had finished the game and, I think that the keepers felt great about their progress. Again it turned into a team building activity. I have come to realize that if there is anything one thing I can do for Munda Wanga it is to inspire the staff to greatness. We have a great staff here, but they have never been treated well or thanked for the jobs in which they do. They have had no reason to go above and beyond or to risk greatness. Already I have been seeing a slight shift in their attitudes; as small things like apple crisps and coke-a-cola treats reward hard work, the keeper lounge now has electricity and is slowly being remolded into a nice place to be, and tools and supplies make their way to the keepers, a sense of hope that things are going to get better and that positive change is happening is beginning to emanate from the keepers.I am going to keep moving forward and making whatever difference I can. Maybe this is why I was meant to come here. Not only do I know zookeeping but I am also a positive person who wants to spread that energy to others. As I am about to begin another week I am filled with anticipation at the things it will bring. I love and miss you all back home! Tammy

After two years of cooking over charcoal on a brazier the size of a frying pan, it is glorious to have a kitchen. The refrigerator is apartment size, but enables us to buy and eat meat. We opted to continue to drink room temperature water so that we could shop for fresh foods once per week only. The stove/oven resembles a microwave oven in size and having the door open the oven. The 2 burner stove is directly on top of the oven. The unit sits on a small table which I brought down from my hut in the village. I was so disappointed when I discovered that only one of the burners worked. I was really looking forward to expanding my cooking beyond one-pot meals so I bought a two burner hot plate and am happy. The oven bakes pretty hot so is ideal for homemade bread. To my great relief, my cake pans fit inside. It probably uses less electricity than a big oven. Then the whole unit shorted out and we had to buy a replacement last Saturday. Maybe it was worn out from all the baking I have been doing, including bread. So now I am baking and cooking on a brand new unit.

At work I have been revising the Peace Corps cookbook called "Where There Is No Take-Away". It has been great to add tips and correct recipes. Last night I baked the corrected brownies recipe and it received approval from my official taste-tester and roommate.

.

The apartment has a meter to measure the units of electricity that we have to pre-pay and then load. Next week we will walk over to the nuclear plant owner and plunk money down for another 45 units.

We lost electricity last Friday night, so went to bed early and read by candlelight. We just went into the village mode. However, through my window I noticed that the apartments across the courtyard all had lights. Next morning I checked with a neighbor who was watching TV. Her husband came down and immediately located the problem as a tripped fuse switch on our meter. Like any new resident, we have to learn these things.

Well, not actually today. More like around this time last year...I boarded a plane to live for 2 years in a country I'd never been to, met 29 incredible individuals-many of whom in the subsequent months I've come to rely on as family and came to this country as a brand-spanking new Peace Corps Trainee.

Holy Jesus I've been here a year. I can't say that time has flown by- sometimes it feels like I've just stepped off the plane onto hot Zambian tarmac, other times it feels like I've been here for a hundred years. Like most things in this country, it just depends on the day. But, here I am, another year older, another year (hopefully) wiser, another year of incredible experience under my proverbial belt. So what have I been doing in my 2 cough3cough month break? Stuff.

Not gonna lie, my first Christmas away from my family was rough. No egg nog, no arguing whether we'd do white or colored lights, no real tree, no cookie baking marathon, no claymation movies or 24 hours of A Christmas Story. For the majority of the Christmas holiday, Mansa didn't even have electricity. But what we did have for the holiday was each other. Vastly different (packet punch, face paints and a night out to a dirty warehouse bar) but no less special, Christmas this year simply reaffirmed that what you do doesnt really matter, just who you do it with, and I spent my holiday with some of the best people a volunteer could ask for.

Okay enough of the sentimental stuff- onto the funsies: NEW YEARS! After traveling for 2 days from Mansa to get to Lusaka to meet my FAVORITE Zam-ladies and a whirlwind night devoid of sleeping but full of tequila, we found ourselves on a 6 hour bus heading to Livingstone to see Zambia's claim to world wonder fame- Victoria Falls. We did what we could on Peace Corps budget, which limited us to a booze cruise and a bomb New Years party at a lodge on the Zambezi, but honestly the best part was getting to spend some much needed quality time with the girls. But I'm not gonna wax poetic on how much I love my friends because I'm hoping they already know. Imma talk about the booze cruise (and New Years and Vic Falls). SO, its billed as a "river cruise" down the Zambezi where you're served dinner and as much booze as you can handle (or until they run out). We had an awesome time on it and saw a good amount of animals- a couple crocs, some monkeys and an f-ton of hippos. New Years Eve party was a booze-driven blur, enough to make me miss the actual countdown to the new year. There were monkeys that we saw jumping from branch to branch in the trees above us earlier in the night though. I think the best part of our vacation though was just seeing the actual falls. They were un-freaking-believable. I had a pre-concieved notion of what they would look like, but seeing the actual falls...they blew my mind. They're spectacular. Words cannot describe.

The biggest misconception that I had was that the falls fell into a giant pool of water, but they dont. It's like the earth just split and there's a giant scar running down the face of it that the Zambezi falls into. Its a giant valley pretty much, all black and jagged wet rock face. One of the things I found most impressive was the spray. No one really talks about it but since the water is falling on rocks and not into a pool, it creates a mist you can see from pretty far away that just blankets (and consequently soaks) everything. I thought it was the coolest thing when we were on the booze cruise and you could see the white spray coming up, or when we were driving to the falls in one of those open-top safari vehicles and we turned a corner and there we were at the top, mist billowing and the falls looking like the end of the earth. I wonder what Dr. Livingstone thought about that.

Word of caution though: as incredible as it is, it is also incredibly dangerous. Due to the ever-present mist, everything is wet and consequently slippery. The hand rails only reach to chest level if there are any at all. The drops are steep. Very, very steep. And the bottom of the gorge is full of not-so-soft rock. Not to mention there are unofficial guides that take you for an unofficial tour to walk on the lip of the falls (I'm serious-people do it. If the internet were working in Mansa I have pictures of two girls and an illegal guide standing in the water literally ON the edge of the falls). People die all the time.

There are also baboons. Not the lovably eccentric Rafiki baboons, but large, brown, intimidating baboons with even larger canines. Volunteers have horror stories in regards to these baboons and one stole my friend's purse to drink her alcohol packets and eat her doxycycline (malaria profylaxis) when we were there. A year ago a tourist got killed when a baboon tried to take away his camera and he slipped and fell into the falls. If you know me, there's only one primate I hate more than baboons. And that's gorillas.

So that's pretty much what I did during my vacay. Right now I'm in Lusaka for the new RED diversity panel (I'm special and unique!). It was so strange meeting the new RED trainees- even stranger than meeting the new CHIP/RAP intake since these new ones are in the same program. It was refreshing to see a group fresh out of America-land, enthusiastic and excited and still devoid of the cynicism and jaded menality that seems to take over the longer you stay and work in the field (sorry- just being honest). After panel I got to shop and hang out with a few of them and there's some seriously awesome people and potential in this group. They're gonna do some great things once they get in the field. Good luck with PST and power to y'all!

That's about all I've been doing recently. Term 1 started a few weeks ago (I nearly killed myself planning/writing up lesson plans for the one and a half weeks of lessons I missed) and its going pretty well, more on work and projects at a later date. Hope all is well in the home land! Love all of you and you know how to get me if you need me.

Today I had to get up at 5.45 since I was asked by the head of the Libala High School to be at the weekly assembly. While I was standing next to the teachers in front of circa 800 pupils, agroup of 8 graders sang the national anthem and read out the weekly prayer. I was presented as the new "coach" that will assist them to improve the skills and lead them to succesful times on and off the field. I was heartly welcomed by a loud "GOOD MORNING, COACH JOE!!!".

Today we had Physical Education at Burma Basic School, so I finished some paper work before getting to the site with Chenge and Levy. This time I brought my camera and so I was able to take some pictures. We had the 8 graders today so we went for some interesting active games accompanied by a lot of singing and dancing. I am on my way to learn the basic songs that make them stretch and move like the Coach wants them to...it is just not that easy to pronounce this language and my motor function leaves a lot to be desired. However, we had a lot of fun and introduced this week's topic to the kids. Most of the activties and games will be framed withing the topic of HIV/Aids.

Afterwards, we took some minutes to get some snacks and some refreshements on the market and we had a great time joking around, teaching me new expression like "Ey, Chicken....move!" which appears tp be helpful in the crowded busses! :) I dare, however, to make use of it since I haven't learned how to say "Sorry...I did not mean to insult you....My friends told me to say that!" Only then I might use it!

Today is Monday so that means that I am focusing on my studies and some research regarding my thesis-topic. I got in touch with some partner organization as well as journalists who I will meet up next week. I am doing really fine in this country and can't wait to get more and more involved in the activities as well as implement new projects! So far I am trying to get as many people as possible from back home to donate their old, washed-out or small sport jerseys so I can send them to this organization. The reason is simple....For most children, and I experience that every day when going to sport classes, the outfit is an essential and crucial precondition for getting active in sport activities. What we might take for granted is often one of the obstacles to benefit from the many advantages that sport brings with. If you have some jerseys or sport outfits in your closet that you do not need anymore, or you know somebody who might do so, just send me an email and I will set you on the list of potential donations. Further information will be provided!

Have a good start in the week! Regards from Zambia!

Mwauka bwanji everybody.

I am sitting in the office on a Monday morning after an eventful and really exciting weekend. But let's start the highlights in order.

1) Since Friday we are 2 more in the SIA-family. Dominique and Marten from Holland joined the SIA-house and are staying for 6 months in Zambia! On Friday we more or less showed them around and went grocery shopping. After 5 days of pasta I felt like mixing it up a bit....so I bought some rice!

2) On Saturday I went to "school games" at Libala High (School). Raul, my collegue at the organization, is the coach of the girls-basketball team at Libala High. The schoolgames turned oput to be a tournment between 5 schools in basketball and football. The football field was more or less an acre with two posts and a bumpy field of grass. It was, thus, eve more impressive how the palyers performed. What was even more impressive was the celebration when somebody scored a goal. Players started to dace, to do backflips and to jump through the air like...yeah like what?!

Another thing that amazed me was the warm-up sessions before the matches. The whole team is jogging in file, dancing, singing and throwing themselves on the ground. It is just catching and so much fun to look at....it is the joy in their face and the passion they have for the game and the music that creates this wonderful picture.

At the same time on the basketball-court (streetball) boys and girls were battling out the prestigefull glory of being the best school on the court. I was surprised by the physical intensity and the partly very spectacular games. Apart from that I met a lot of new people and had some interesting chats about the current performance of the Zambian football team. While Raoul was busy coaching the boys and girls of "his" school, I switched my chair frequently between the two fields, enjoying the games in the sun...oh did I mention that it was sunny again. I heard afterwards that we had 42°C that day! At night I most likely looked like a lobster who just jumped out of boiling water. It was a great day and I took some great pictures from the fields. Too bad that I couldnt join the others out for some drinks...the sun was giving me a hard time.



On Sunday the two dutch and the two norwegian and me went to the Sunday Market. I could have spent a lot of money since there were lots of amazing handmade stuff and potential souvenirs. I figured, however, that I will have to come back at a later stage. We spent the day walking around the market and taking pictures of our neighbourhood. My personal highlight were two sales women at the street who gave us two fresh Mangos for free when we bought some fruits. Not onyl were the Mangos really really good, but we are now officially their best friends for life. It seems to be quiet easy to get in touch wit the locals here which eases the whole transition process from "being used to your surrounding" to "being the white stranger". Even though one is more than aware of the fact that the colour of skin should not be a matter of concern, it is an interesting process one experiences when people continuesly tell you that you are "white".

The Sunday should not end without two additional highlights.

1) I had my first Zambian beers after I realized that I would never be able to keep my "promise" not to drink for the 10 weeks I am in Zambia. It is just not ME....watching soccer, chilling in the afternoon sun and NOT holding a cold beer in your hands while chatting with your African friends.

2) Zambia vs. Equatorial Guinea....Final match of the group stage..."Colour"-TV, CheeseBalls, and a screaming crowd in front of the screen when OUR captain Katongo scored the important 1:0 for Zambia which meant that we qualified for the quarter-final. Tonight we will know whether we are going to face Angola or the Ivory Coast. But everybody is pretty confident that we can beat any team this year. The spirit that this team brings on the field is accompanied by the touching background of Zambia's participation at the African Cup of Nations. In 1993, the whole Zambian national team died in a plane crash when they left Libreville, Gabon for a FIFA world cup qualificaiton match in Senegal. A resurrected team defied the odds, and displaying an offensive playing style, came second place after losing the final of the Cup 1994 against Nigeria. This year the "Chipolopolo" want the title more than ever since the final will be played in Libreville, Gabon!

From my journal entry December 1, 2011:

I woke up at about 6:30am with a list of things to do because I knew it was going to be a busy day. I was in the outdoor kitchen cleaning my bike chain from sand like I had been meaning to do for 3 days. The next door neighbor came by and asked for some of our concrete so they could plaster their outdoor kitchen, and I had to say “no” so I felt bad, as I don’t quite have saying no mastered yet. Then two young sons of another neighbor came by for what seemed like an eternity just to say hello and play but all I wanted to do was get all of my chores done and get ready for the school writing/letter exchange program before heading to the clinic to assist with the pre-natal clinic. I knew this was the last opportunity for Scott and I to help the students write the letters in English because they were leaving the next day for a 5-week Christmas holiday. At 7am, my host mother came by the outdoor kitchen and mentioned something in Lunda about a pregnant village woman needing my help. She pointed to the hut across the dirt road. As I’m still learning Lunda, I didn’t really get the gist of it, and said, “fast, fast so we can prepare for our school program.” In my head, I was thinking to myself: “they know I’m not a doctor. I wish I could skip all these visitors and just get my morning chores done.” She seemed in a hurry, and I didn’t even get a chance to tell Scott that I had started cracking eggs for breakfast inside the hut.

She led me across the road. I was very surprised as she led me into a side door of one of the small mud brick homes. This was my first time inside the home of someone I did not know, so I figured there was definitely something wrong. We crossed a small living room with the only furnishings being a few stools, and into the bedroom, which had two beds made out of bricks and covered with reed mats.

Lying on the floor was a female traditional birth attendant (TBA), at the foot of the young woman. She was surrounded by four other village women, most of whom I recognized as my neighbors. She was lying on the floor on a reed mat with another woman helping prop her head up and covered only by chitenge fabric. I knew at that moment that I couldn’t just politely excuse myself. There were no men in the house, and I could hear the sound of children playing in the front yard, as if they knew something was going on, but knew very well not to interrupt. I felt honored and helpless at the same time that the village women would invite someone they knew less than one month to this intimate birthing experience.

Luckily I had seen one other birth of a good friend back home, so I knew a bit what this was about, but at the same time worlds apart: no hospital, no heart rate monitors, epidurals, or labor-inducing drugs at hand, much less electricity or running water. No sutures, suction, or forceps. No nurse for over 19 kilometers, and no cell phone service. There were a few buckets of water near the mat for washing. The TBA had with her only disposable latex gloves, a bar of soap, and a jar of petroleum jelly. Was this really happening? I had read about a similar experience from a Peace Corps volunteer in the mid ‘90’s, but I naively assumed that most births these days happened in the clinics.

The mother was about 10cm dilated and I could already see a little round bump of the head when I walked in. The TBA was skillfully stretching the labia in between contractions, where all the women coached through with soothing words. The woman in labor had found a small crevice in the mud brick wall to her left, and was using it as a foothold during the contractions. Her right leg was braced against another woman’s knee as they all sat in low stools surrounding her. I asked how many other children she had, and she said this was her fourth. She looked no older than 25.

When I entered around 7am, I assumed this would probably happen quickly since the head was protruding out. She had already been in labor for a few hours. The minutes ticked slowly away and each one seemed like an eternity as the contractions came no closer together. The mother made hardly a sound and was not sweating, but I could tell by the expression on the TBA’s face that things were not going as planned. Between each contraction, the little one’s head kept disappearing back inside the mother. The women helped the mother change position by supporting her a few times in a squat or half-stand, which exposed the traditional Lunda scars in the shape of intricate designs that had been etched on her back during a woman’s initiation ceremony probably a decade before. The mother was unable to stand on her own and looked several times as if she would collapse into the arms of the assisting women.

Around 9am, things got downright scary. My host mom led the women in a round of Christian prayers, and I could see both the mother and the rest of the women taking turns giving it their all to get this baby out. Some began praying very fast as if they were speaking in tongues. I’m no expert, but I think at this point at a western hospital, she would have been given some type of drug to assist her in labor. I couldn’t understand exactly what the women were saying, but I kept hearing the word “ambulance” being called out intermittently, which I knew could not be good. I even volunteered to bike to our rural clinic to radio the hospital, but deep down inside everyone knew that it wouldn’t come. In my three months at our village, I have never seen the ambulance up our road. Three of the women heard a cantor truck (one of about 5 vehicles per day that drive our road), and went to flag it down to see if it would stop to give the woman a ride to the BOMA. For awhile, it was just myself, the TBA, and the mother, and all I could do was hold her hand.

My heart sunk, and minutes turned into hours. I had a sinking feeling that there was something horribly wrong as the amount of head showing was less than it was when I arrived. I heard the rumble of the truck go down the road and knew then that the women were unable to negotiate a ride (would you let a lady give birth in the back of your pick-up truck?) and that whatever was going to happen would happen in that home. The mother-to-be said another prayer for strength. The TBA and village women surrounded her once again with a second wind of energy.

Finally, around 9:45 am, contractions started coming closer together and the water broke. The head came out and was out for what seemed like an eternity without crying and looking very pale yellow. I still had my suspicion that this would be one of these horrible statistics you hear about rural childbirth in Africa when a little body came out, the baby started crying, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. All I could think of to say was “amayala,” meaning “it’s a boy!”

My stomach was still in knots from the close call, and I didn’t think I could handle watching the afterbirth, so I volunteered to prepare a drink of oral rehydration salts at my hut for the mother, who was at this point sweating and shaking. When I came back into the house, the poor mother was just seated next to the water buckets like a forgotten piece of clothing while all attention was on the baby. The women took turns washing him and then swaddled him with no less than 3 clean blankets and a cute little hand-knitted outfit. I don’t even think he got to taste his mother’s milk (even though he was making sucking motions with his mouth) before they whisked him into the arms of the TBA, who rode on the back of a bicycle powered by a neighbor 4 kilometers to the local clinic to be weighed.

They invited me to ride along, and really wanted me to register the baby. Before we left the hut I asked what his name was so they could mark it on the register. I must be used to the U.S. where people sometimes name their future children before they’re even conceived. The mother looked at me blankly, and all the other women pointed at me and said, “you name the baby.” I couldn’t even think. I had less than 2 minutes as we were already in a hurry to get the baby weighed and back to his mother. Some trendy American name came out of my mouth that I don’t even remember now, and all I remember was seeing blank stares on the villagers’ faces. I was not going to subject this poor child to years of mispronunciation, so I blurted out, “Golden.” That was my Lunda language teacher’s name, and I’m pretty sure it was a familiar name. They all smiled and nodded in approval and we were off to the clinic: me on my fancy mountain bike and 3 people including a 30 minute-old swaddled infant on a rickety Zambian bike.

I walked into the clinic and helped the child get registered, and then saw the three off again on the bicycle ready to unite the baby with its mother. I walked next door to the school, my head still spinning and somehow mustered the energy to assist Scott with the letter writing activity with 30 energetic 7th and 8th graders. All in a day’s work!

Follow up:

Golden is doing well and I always see him strapped to his mother’s back as she goes to the fields or to meet the other village women. I always say “Golden wakola?” meaning literally “is he strong?”, and she confirms, saying “Golden wakola.” It will be fun to see him grow over the next two years. I never found out what prevented his mother from going to the clinic for the birth, but thank goodness he is a happy, healthy infant.

I was invited to observe another home birth about a week later, but came a little late (this one must have been without complications) and was only able to see the afterbirth and the cord cutting by the TBA using a piece of string. Of course they wanted me to name that one too, so I named him Philip.

Without my prodding, the in-charge of our clinic announced that we should work with the TBA’s to implement a program that encourages women to come to the clinic for deliveries. Although the clinic has no running water, electricity, or a nurse, it does have beds, latex gloves in stock, and access to a short wave radio which is a step up for the home births. Most importantly, this gradual change in behavior is getting the women used to the idea of traveling somewhere for labor for the sake of their own health and that of their children. I’m working with the TBA’s to create ways to dialogue with their villagers about safe birthing practices.

While nothing significant has happened to me as of late, I just thought I would put a few thoughts out here that might be of interest to some...First, I went up to visit a friend of mine in Mbala. She lives about 380 km north me, just near the Tanzanian border. While she only lives 12 km from the Mbala town- the bike ride to her site takes about an hour and a half because of the rolling hills and rough terrain. Needless to say she doesn't get a great deal of visitors. She has a beautiful home and a wonderful family that stays just near her. She is a fish farming volunteer so I got to see a couple of her ponds that looked really good and I was incredibly impressed by. As I only have a few months left, I was glad to get a chance to see another friend's site. We put so much effort into making our lives manageable here, it is such a special treat when we can have a friend visit. Our villages are our homes and the people who live around us are our family. While Peace Corps Volunteers are also our family, the villagers are the people we spend the most time with, and we are always telling stories about these folks to our friends. Therefore it's nice to put a face to a name that you hear about from other PCVs.A note on Zambian culture:As a white person in the village, I stick out a lot. Most everyone knows who I am, and I am treated as a bwana (rich person). Therefore, wherever I go in the village, I am given the penultimate symbol of respect: the chair. If I attempt to sit on the ground with everyone else, I am usually chastized until I sit on whatever chair they have brought out for me. This may be simply a plank of wood that is about 3 inches off of the ground, or it might be a plastic sack filled with grass, or it may be a village stool that my butt barely just fits on, or it could be an actual finely made chair. It is incredibly embarrassing how much people will fall over themselves to give me a chair when I am usually perfectly content sitting on the ground. As I do stand out in a crowd here, I feel much better trying to fit in and be among the people rather than being separated. Similarly, whenever there is a large group eating nshima, I am always forced to eat INSIDE with the leaders of the meeting or the most affluent of the group. This frustrates me beyond belief. First of all, it is usually stifling hot inside any home which makes eating uncomfortable. Secondly, like I mentioned, I do not like being set apart from the villagers and them forcing me to eat with people they put above themselves. While this bwana group of people usually gets to eat first and their meal includes the best of the relishes, I would much rather be sitting outside on a reed mat eating with mayos than with people from town who act like they are better than the villagers.I usually bike with my ipod on my arm... Most people think that I am biking around with a solar panel on my arm...There are usually around 3-7 churches in one village. In every village, the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witness churches are by far the nicest ones. Throughout the country, these churches are almost identical. They're all made out of really nice brick, have tin rooves, and usually a very manicured yard area. I have to admit that I know little to nothing about the Jehovah's Witness church, but I have to assume that the churches here get their funding from the states to build these really nice Kingdom Halls.Rainy season is in full swing right now. This means it rained almost everyday in my village for two weeks. The rain usually comes in the afternoon and will last through the night until morning. Therefore if I wake up and there is any semblance of a sun outside, then I will hurriedly wash my clothes. It is not uncommon for my laundry to be wet for three days because there is no sun, and everything is just damp. I can't even begin to explain how disgusting and frustrating it is for clothes not to dry! With the rain also comes the end of all meetings. If there is a meeting or gathering scheduled of any kind, and it is raining, then it is automatically assumed the meeting is cancelled. Similarly, children and teachers do not go to school if it is raining- even if they live right next to the school. Therefore, unfortunately I spend a lot of my time sitting in my hut and reading during rainy season. I just finished "The Grapes of Wrath" recently, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I had never read the book in it's entirety before, and as I always am with John Steinbeck, I was enthralled. A lot of the sentiments characters in the book were expressing about their America in peril seem to apply to today. "Where is this country going?" It's sad, but something that a lot of people seem to be thinking about lately.I am going to miss the kids in my village (my kids) so incredibly much when I leave. Lately, when they are over at my house, I will tell them that I am going to miss them so much when I go to America (Nkaya ku America pa April, na nkafuluka sana!). Usually they give me a blank stare and as I walk away they'll mock my Bemba. I would be lying if I said this didn't make me sad. I hope they'll miss and remember me. I've given them enough candy to give them multiple cavities, so at least they may remember me that way ;o).

Today's run

Distance: 13.41 miles. A half-marathon and some change.

Time: 115 minutes

Weather/time: 45F at 5:00pm.

Traffic: Moderate. It is Sunday when people like to get in their cars and, you know, go for a Sunday drive.

Since north Columbia remains vague to me I thought I'd build a run around covering the length of Smiley Lane. Smiley is an East-West arterial road (I am guessing) that traverses the far north side of town. The north side with its low-density housing and big yards and general identity-lessness. The sidewalks in this zone were more or less constant (there is a significant gaps from Providence west a block or so.) The pedestrian situation at the Vandiver/Oakland Gravel/Paris Road intersection needs some help.

Immediately after the run I am sore with little left. It is hard to think about how this was a half-marathon and the race I signed up for is two of those.

I had images from the movie I started watching last night and finished this morning. The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner is a 1962 British story about an independent-minded guy who gets hisself into a home for troubled boys thanks to a crime he does when he needs cash money to support the family now that his Dad has died. He runs not to please his Governor at the home but himself. I recommend it. The heroes girlfriend was played by an actress named Topsy Jane. Really. Let me know if you want to see it you can borrow my copy if you can't find one at your local Salvation Army thrift score like I did.

My friend sent me this article the other day that explores another risk of unprotected oral sex. I can honestly say that this is new news and information to me. Very interesting...

Please read HPV study finds 7% of U.S. teens, adults carry virus in mouths

As we have now already started a great conversation, and caused people to think about the idea of "hiring" someone with HIV, I would now like to ask the even more difficult question of whether you would ever date someone with HIV?

Those of us with HIV will have to struggle with this dilemna for the rest of our lives... telling potential partners of our status, and making ourselves vulnerable to rejection and pain.

I can honestly say that prior to my infection, I probably would have answered "No" to this question. In fact, I had a situation where this kind of came into play. I want to tell you a little bit about something that was going on with me in my village prior to meeting my "townie" and contracting HIV.

I had been in my village for a little over 3 months. I had made very close friendships with my fellow teachers, men and women. However, there was one male teacher that I formed a particularly close friendship with. I was attracted to him, and it was pretty clear that he was attracted to me too. We flirted and joked with each other. We spent time together during school, after school, and even on weekends. We really got along well. However, even with the growing closeness and attraction, we kept things strictly at the friendship level. The other teachers and villagers started noticing our relationship though, and comments started being made. It didn't really bother me. However, it did bother him, and he actually started putting some distance between us, because people were "bugging" him about it. We eventually discussed this and once it was out in the open, we started to move past that hump.

We had just gotten to the point of discussing the possibility of taking our friendship further, when some of the female teachers approached me about something. They told me that this particular male teacher had been having a sexual relationship with another female teacher. Furthermore, they told me the rumors that that this female teacher was known to "sleep around" and also that she was "sick". (They don't really say that someone has HIV, they just reference them being "sick"). Suddenly, I was faced with this dilemna that the man I had grown so close to, and thought I had such a good friendship with, was possibly sleeping with someone else, and was possibly infected with HIV!

Being that him and I were so close, and I happen to be a very straightforward and open person, I confronted him about this issue. He denied that he was having a relationship with the other teacher. He said that it was all just rumors that had been created because other people were jealous. I continued to question him about it, and also ask others about it to try to figure out the truth. I wanted to believe him, but I also just couldn't ignore what everyone else was saying, especially with the whole HIV thing being mentioned!

Unfortunately, this all happened the week before I left for my trip to the capital city. I left my village upset and confused about our relationship. He was also extremely upset about it, and getting more and more angry each time I attempted to discuss it. Once in the capital city, most of my volunteer friends said it probably wasn't a good situation to get involved with. As soon as any question about HIV was brought up, the response was usually, "Oh girl, you don't want to mess with that."

I was struggling with this ordeal during my 2 weeks in the capital. I was still having stressed phone calls with him during breaks from our training sessions. I talked in length with my best volunteer friend about our "complicated" relationships with Zambians. It was so tough! Zambian men have such a reputation for being unfaithful and untruthful! We just couldn't figure out how to successfully enter into or be in a relationship with them.

We watched a video one day during those training sessions. It was about volunteers contracting HIV during their service. Out of the group of 27 of us, it was me and my friend who were crying at the end of the video. I was crying because I was scared. Because I liked a guy so much, but was so scared to get into a relationship with him, because there were rumors of him having HIV. Because I couldn't get a clear answer from him or anyone. Because it was so hard and different to have a relationship and communicate with someone with such a different culture and upbringing. My friend was crying because she was already in a relationship with a Zambian and was facing some of the same trust and communication issues. We both wished there was someone there in Peace Corps that could talk to us and help us more with these issues. There are contracted counselors available for mental health issues, however, it was rumored that it was very difficult to get to talk with them, and you had to go through Medical in order to ask for and be approved for an appointment. My friend and I discussed the possibility that maybe the HIV Educators themselves, although not counselors, might be able to meet with us.

After the video, I remember approaching our HIV Educator to ask if we could possibly set up appointments with her to discuss relationship issues more in depth. Although she said "Yes", she seemed kind of unsure, hesitant, and thrown off by my question. I never made an appointment with her. Maybe I should have...

It was during this stressed and confused and upset time that I met my guy in the capital. It probably added to my state of mind at the time and played a role in the poor choices I made 5 days later. It's kind of ironic. I was trying to avoid one situation where I "might" be exposed to HIV, and in turn put myself directly in a situation where I did get HIV. Wow. All I can do at this point is laugh.

Well, I didn't really intend to go into that whole story in this post, but I started typing, and that is what came out. Back to the original question though about dating someone with HIV... I would have said "No" before, but honestly it would have been based on a lot of fear and ignorance. Since contracting HIV, I have learned so much more about transmission and prevention, about risks and reality.

The reality is that, in most cases, it is very difficult to contract HIV. The reality is that with treatment, HIV+ people can reach an "Undetectable" viral load and decrease the risk of passing to a sexual partner by 96%. The reality is that up to 50% of HIV+ people are in sero-discordant relationships (where one person has the virus and one does not). The reality is that couples can have a safe and healthy sex life and at the same time remain sero-discordant for LIFE (meaning the virus is NEVER passed to the partner). The reality is that there are methods of safe conception even for sero-discordant couples. The reality is that people can safely live in and share a household together and never pass the virus. I know this now. I wish I had known more about it back then.

I hope that others can learn more about this and educate themselves. Learn the risks, and learn the reality. And then ask yourself, would you ever be willing to date someone with HIV?

Please respond to the poll on the sidebar, and leave your comments below.

275 total voters responded to the question:

Should a HIV+ person be required to inform their employer of their HIV status?

17 (6%): Yes.

96 (34%): No.

152 (55%): It depends on the job.

10 (3%): I can't decide.

Thank you all for your responses. And thank you for all of the additional comments left on my post "Jobs. Jobs. Jobs."

As many people (55%) responded "It depends on the job.", I am curious as to which jobs you believe should require a HIV+ person to disclose? Please add your comments here to let me know for which jobs one should disclose their status, and why?

Thanks again!

Yum! I made some fresh fruit an d veggie juice last night during a downpour. It is delicious.  Recipe: I just threw in whatever I had, and tried to chop it a bit first to help the blender.  8 mangoes, 1 banana, some spoonfuls of applesauce, tomato, spinach lettuce and moringa leaves, pro-biotic yoghurt and [...]

January 27, 2011

Greetings everyone! Today I want to introduce Shumba. Shumba is a lioness from Kafue National Park. In early December Shumba’s front paw was severely bitten by a crocodile; guides and agents from Zambia Wildlife Authority (ZWA) kept an eye on her and it was very soon obvious that she was not going to make it without medical attention. ZWA then made the decision to try something they had never done before, they decided to attempt to capture her in order to treat her wound which now had a raging infection. Part of the reason they made the decision was because she is so young, only 3 years old and has not only a long life in front of her but should also be able to have a few litters of cubs as well. Munda Wanga was then contacted to see if we could house her while she was undergoing medical care and treatments, not only were we the perfect facility for this, but ZWA’s headquarters is right across the street as well to administer veterinary care.

Shumba has now been here at Munda Wanga for the last almost 2 months. Her paw is looking so much better than it was but she has a long way to go as you can see from the pictures. Twice every week our volunteer vets team up with ZWA’s vets to clean the wounds and apply medications. We try to keep we as happy and well cared for as humanly possible, but she is wild at heart and does not want to be here, she want to go home.

This blog is going to be unique in the fact that I am going to ask something of my readers. I am going to ask that you all think good thoughts, say a prayer, or whatever you believe to make positive things happen for Shumba. She needs as much help and encouragement as we can all give her. She hates being locked up, after all she was a wild lion the first 3 years of her life, and wants to get back to her pride. I do not mean to interfere in others lives but I am asking because right now Shumba could use a miracle to get better.

Love and miss you all! Tammy

We’ve had more than a few cross-cultural exchanges over the past few months with our village, but I wanted to share two of the most memorable

1) The Geography Lesson: sitting around the brazier (burning coal stove) and talking with some of our neighbors after dinner“So when you came here to Zambia, you came in an airplane, right?”“Yes.”“Did the airplane cross the ocean in the air or did it float on the water?”“In the air. Let us show you on our map. The journey was long and we had to take a few different airplane rides.”“America is part of North America or South America”“Actually America should be called the United States because there are many countries in both North and South America. The U.S. has 50 states including Alaska and Hawaii”“Hawaii? You mean people live way out there in the middle of all that water?”“Yes, just on that little dot.”“ They are not afraid that the ocean will drown them?”“No, they are used to it. They can even swim in places where their feet don’t touch.”“Alaska, it is very cold?”“Yes, very cold.”“And there is a small Russia just next to Alaska. I thought Russia was the largest country in Asia.”“Russia is the largest land country, partly in Asia and Europe, and if this map was put on a large ball called a globe, the large part almost stretches to Alaska. Maybe sometime we could show you a globe.”“If you went all the way to the end of Russia, would you fall off the end of the earth?”“No, you would just continue around the circle.”“Wow, God has really made an amazing great big earth.”“Yes he has.”

2) The Wedding Talk: with a bunch of youth at the clinic. We were trying to translate the word “partner” into Lunda in preparation for a skit. “So in America, a partner is someone you are with whether you are married or not?”“Yes, for example Scott is my partner.”“(Shock) You mean you’re not married to him?”“Yes we’re married. He’s my partner AND my husband.”“When you got married, did he have to pay your parents money?”“No, we don’t have that custom in America”“You mean his family didn’t have to pay anything?”“No.”“In our culture, the man has to pay the wife’s family because he is taking her away, and the family is losing work.”“In America, it’s almost the opposite. The bride’s family usually has to pay for the wedding.”“(All the boys) Wow! Send me to America to get married!”“(All the girls) If I get an American husband, send him to Zambia so he can pay me!”

17 Jan 2012 | Magalela Village, Zambia (-17.3014, 26.0948) From a photographer’s point of view, the subjects are amazing and I love walking around the village taking pictures of each interesting person.  Personally, this is only possible because I know … finish reading The Faces of Zambia

And we have 63 of them to share with you from the last three months:

https://picasaweb.google.com/ginaord/CommunityEntry02?authkey=Gv1sRgCOXmwP3uqYqpfA

Scott and I are doing well, and taking turns passing through the provincial house on the way to more Peace Corps training in Lusaka. We've had a busy few months filled with community introductions and house projects, but have taken notes so we can hopefully post some stories in the upcoming weeks.

We had a relaxing Christmas and New Year's in our village . . . we were some of the few volunteers we know who did not travel over the holidays as we hope to save up our vacation days (hopefully for some of you coming to visit--you know who you are!). Thanks for all the cards and letters in the mail. They're a great treat when internet access is scarce.

We keep hearing about all these crazy winter snowstorms and counting our blessings to enjoy warm sunny days usually punctuated by afternoon or evening rains. Okay, sometimes they are torrential downpours, but usually pretty mellow. It just makes mountain biking on the local roads and bush paths more of an adventure!

Keep checking in on this blog as we should have more posts soon.

Gina and Scott

One night last week, I was halfway through preparing myself a delicious dinner of minestrone (complete with carrots, green peppers, and green beans) when there was a knock at my door. The cook from the Conservation Centre had brought me … Continue reading →

This week I have been visiting Lavushi Manda National Park and the Bangweulu Wetlands. Lavushi Manda is a park in a similar situation to Kasanka’s in the mid-eighties. The area (about 1500km2, approximately three times the size of Kasanka) is … Continue reading →

After a few days of looking how things work out in Zambia, I am now updating you on the recent events.

Since I can imagine that it is not in everybody's interest to read long texts and jump from one paragraph to the next, I will provide you with the highlights of the week so far

1) 3 days of sunshine make me almost look like a local! Good work of the sunblocker and the moskito spray....Statisitcs so far: Moskitoes killed: 5 Moskito bites: 0.....winner after points: Johannes fran Lönneberga!

2) First days of working at the schools with super cute 6 and 8-years old children. Getting to know the difficulty to manage practice and sportive activties for 120 (!) children at once. Coach Joe together with his friends, jumping and singing in Njanja (one of the 78987552 zambian languages), doing exercises and races and telling the kids about important life skills such as trust, teamwork, honesty. I am wondering if anybody would notice if I just take all of them with me...did I already mention that they are SO cute! Writing the repots at office and studying became routine and makes time passing by quiet fast.

3) Zambia got a draw against Lybia and has good chances to qualify for the final stage of the African Cup of Nations. People are nuts when it comes to their team, the Chipolopolo (Copper Bullets) and I danced together with my Zambian roommates in front of a not so coulourful Coulour-TV when they scored. Everything is in movement...dancing, singing...I actually never saw a Zambian sleeping. I wonder if they do sleep at all?!

4) I start getting used to be the main attraction in busses, on the streets... I start to wonder whether it as at any time different back in Europe?!

5) Played marbles with two little children who were sitting on a road on the way to office. I lost :(

So far some updates of what I am doing and how I am doing! I will post some pictures this weekend. So stay tuned!

Muzungu Joe

Since I have 3months left I think its only right that I make a Zambia Bucket List of things I want to accomplish, see, visit before I leave this place. Some things aren't possible due to time and my inability to travel in my last three months but maybe an unfinished list will give me motivation to come back?!

1)Go to Ukusefya P'Ngwena- the Bemba Crocodile festival ( its in October )

2) See a Rhino ( there are only two places in Zambia that have the rhino. Livingstone and North Luwangwa)

3)Go see the Lozi ceremony/ go to western province (the ceremony is in April)

4)Sign in a Zambian classroom

5)See Vic Falls from the Zimbabwe side of the falls

6)Learn how to "Dance" (village initiation to womanhood)

7)Bike to the farthest school in my zone (over 40k away)

8) Learn to cook Nshima properly start to finish

9) Watch a baby being born

10) Have a baby named after me ( I had a puppy named after me already)

11) Eat a Crocodile Burger

12) Visit Chilubi Island ( apparently there's an Island in Zambia...a landlocked country?)

Ill probably keep adding to this list even though I am running out of time. We'll see how many I can cross off my list!!!!

It occurred to me after a great visit with the Maryville College J-term crew, that I haven't updated many people about HENDRIX! Well, I am no longer the proud owner of that sassy puppy, the local vet is. After Hendrix gave birth to her 6 puppies she started getting VERY sick. She had worms I just couldn't get rid of. So the vet came by to check on her and basically told me that when I leave Zambia he would take her. That was a relief because I wanted to make sure she had a good home before I left or I wouldn't be able to let her go. She got better for a while. Then all the puppies left and she started acting different. The village told me that she just missed her babies (although by the sounds of her growls at them I'm sure she was happy for them to go). For two months she had company in the puppies while I was a way at school. She was lonely now. And that wasn't good for either one of us. I also started getting REALLY busy with work and Peace Corps activities and was never at home. That meant she didn't have me or the puppies to keep her company anymore. So I decided that instead of giving her way in April, it would be better to give her away in November before thanksgiving and our provincial meetings.

To say it was hard to give her away is an under statement. It was a three day process for many reasons 1) Hendrix is super smart and I swore knew what was happening. 2) The vet was not so smart and underestimated how feisty and stubborn my dog could be. 3) Motor bikes aren't very good at transporting a big, scared puppy. Day one- She jumped out of the box we put her in countless times. She tricked us into thinking she would stay but the vet got down the road and she jumped out and started running back to my hut. She bit her first person that day...ME! Day 2- We decided to take her in a car but no one could find fuel to take her to her new home. Day 3- Success! She rode in the back seat of the car and when we got to the vet, she was her normal barking self. The vet has her brother from the same litter, his name is Rainbow, so now she has someone to play with all day! I'm sure after she bossed Rainbow around for a while they became friends.

While I'm so happy that she's happy, my hut is lonelier then ever. I don't come home after a long day and have someone waiting for me. I don't have anyone to keep me company at night which is hands down the hardest, loudest, loneliest, longest part of any day. But I don't have to worry about her anymore which is nice. I am on my own time again and can do what I need and want without worrying what will happen to her while I am gone. I miss her a lot though. We said our last good bye in November because I'm afraid that if I visit her before I leave she would try to follow me. She was such a great (and sometimes stressful) addition to my service and I'm so glad I got to spend my first year and a half with her. She was a great dog for sure and everyone started comparing their love for me to by love for Hendirx. The village has learned how much Americans love their pets and now probably think we're even crazier after watching my interactions with Hendrix. The one good thing about giving the puppies away....three of them are in my village and I get to visit them or they visit me anytime they want!

one of Hendrix's puppies we named her skunky her new name is Tiger

You do not have to live in a Zambian mud hut or find yourself to be the only gringa in a crowd full of thousands of Ticos to experience culture shock, or a sense of surprise that you have found yourself in a certain corner of the world (even if this corner of the world happens to be at home). We all know that culture is everywhere and regardless of whether one has traveled abroad they have experienced a world view different from their own. Culture weaves its way into age groups, work environments, family dynamics, recreational activities, the online world, etc. etc. In the last ten days, I've been a foreigner in Costa Rica, then a foreigner among foreigners because I speak Spanish and have lived with the locals. I've also made interesting observations on the lifestyle of backpacker travelers, surfers and the beach community of Santa Teresa, CR. I realize that this trip of mine to Costa Rica is merely that, a vacation, and not a living experience. Therefore it should be a breeze for me to pretend I'm a Tica or a beach bum for a mere two weeks. For the most part, it does seem that my ability to adjust to another culture has come as easily as remembering how to ride a bike. However, there have been a few moments of struggle which have led me to create the following list of strategies for a fun survival.

The cliff notes version for friends who have told me I can be too verbose:

1. Be grateful for everything

2. Laugh3. Chew, smile, and swallow

4. Dance, even if you think you don't know how to

5. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the view6. Take care of yourself

7. Drink a little bit (with caution) 8. If all else fails, ask for forgiveness, forgive yourself and move on.

The rambling version (mostly for myself):1. Be grateful for everything

This trip has left me with a predominant feeling of gratitude. Gratitude for various stories listed in this blog, gratitude that I have gotten to experience so much of the world over the last ten years, and mostly for the relationships I have made doing so. My Costa Rican family was the first family of foreigners who taught me lessons on generosity. They fed me, sheltered me, loved me and taught me Spanish ten years ago and have repeated such gifts in the same manner this time around. I am so thankful they have trusted me enough to let me peer into and become a part of their lives for a little while. Moments that make cultural immersion worthwhile include the following:Daniela and I curling up with her mother Irma in her bed as we watched a Peruvian cooking show after stuffing ourselves with rice, beans and fish. We only payed slight attention to it as we distracted ourselves with laughing (bring in strategy #2 below) about me being the "hija perdida¨ and discussing how different life in Colorado would be for them, how they would die in the snow and cold. They say that one day they will visit and I can only hope this is true as I would love to pay back a small amount of all gifts they have shared with me.

Being grateful of course also includes constant reminders about appreciating everything that is wonderful about home, something I hope to write more about in a future entry.

2. Laugh

Something else to be grateful for? The capacity to laugh with others and at myself. During one of the nights we were staying in San Carlos, Daniela and I were changing into pijamas when she suddenly shrieked upon the discovery of a cockroach on her shirt. Shooing it away near my feet, I had an immediate reaction of fright and did a creepy crawly sort of dance. Once again we could not stop laughing. Who would have ever thought a cockroach could have such an effect?

3. Chew, smile, and swallow

Another time I have been forced to laugh at myself has been me and the challenge of eating meat down here. Prior to this trip I convinced myself I was going to stick as much as possible to my oh-so-prenentious pescatarian diet (and to be a little bit more easy going said that an occasional piece of chicken could be fit in). My how that has flown out the window, starting with me consuming a delicious pineapple cream cheese dip at a Costa Rican uncle's birthday party last Saturday. I pinky swear that I did not notice the flakes of pink as I commented to Daniela how rico the dish was. All she did was laugh and ask in a sarcastic, carniverous way whether I knew I was eating pork. With an abashed no, I said it did not matter because I was in Costa Rica and could do whatever I wanted, taking a bite of the steak on her plate. Daniela's response to this was that I only care about American animals and not the Costa Rican ones.

I thought that the meat eating of that night would be an isolated event but of course the next morning awoke to my host mother Irma serving me a Costa Rican breakfast plate complete with a heaping portion of ham and eggs casserole (note that it appeared impossible to pick the ham out of the eggs). I know that I could have politely reminded Irma that I ¨usually¨ try not to eat pork, however the pride and generosity with which she had served the plate led me to my decision to forfeit my desire to not eat meat. My strategy at this point was to chew, smile, be grateful (strategy #1) and swallow.

Since becoming a semi-vegetarian many have asked me whether I have noticed changes in the way I feel in my body. I had never been sure of the answer until now that I have been reintroduced to the consumption of pork and beef on this trip. I must have a stomach of steel as I have not felt physically ill per se (or at least have not yet) BUT I have become acutely aware of an undefined, difficult to explain, fog of heaviness and disgust in my stomach.

I will not say that I regret eating the pork but will declare that I plan on returning to my vegetarian lifestyle with a vengance upon my return Stateside. And will be grateful there that I have full choice over what foods I want to nourish my body with, as well as the access to markets where I can buy them.

4. Dance, even if you think you don't know how to

Just do it. Don't think about it too much. See other blog entries for details.

5. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the view

Give me an i-pod and a window seat on any sort of bus and I am a patient, content girl. It may sound strange to some but bus rides with good views are often my most memorable and favorite parts of traveling. I am sure this origniated with the drive between San Jose and San Carlos I grew accustomed to many years ago. It was so nice to experience the views on this journey again this time around. This 2.5-3 hour long ride of windy roads blanketed by an ephemeral mist of fog showcases so much beauty. Coffee plantations are chiseled into the faces of lush, green, rolling hills. On the edges, houses painted with bold colors and topped with corrugated roofs hang daringly close to the edges. You pass pastures of cows munching on grass in between small, lazy towns that hug themselves to the side of the road. People that live in them seem to always be enjoying the simplicity of life- whether it is the older woman lounging on her patio as she munches on a bag of plantain chips, the farmer with large sombrero and heavy black boots walking alongside the road, or the soccer team of boys sitting in a circle on a green plaza in front of one of the town's cathedrals.

On this drive I found myself thinking about a lot of different people in the world- my sister in Portland came to mind, my Mom in the suburbs of Denver, my best friend in New York City, my Zambian family back in Africa. It seemed a miracle to me that so many places and lives were all existing simultaneously.

6. Take care of yourself

One of my biggest challenges of traveling recently has been finding the appropriate time and space to take care of myself physically and mentally. I previously mentioned how little my Costa Rican life seems to have changed since coming here years ago. Something major that has, however, have been my discovery of how much of an impact yoga, meditation and eating healthy can have on my life. There were several days I went on this trip without incorporating any of these into my time and the absence of them did not go unnoticed in my body or mind. This brings me back to the aspect of gratitude and how traveling can make you realize the benefits of your life back home. I have much more control over what I eat back there, have a plethora of yoga teachers to learn from, as well as have a beautiful, quiet and adequate space to meditate in.

I do try to remind myself here though that even though I can not do a full hour of asana (the sanskrit term for yoga poses) or find a quiet space for fifteen minutes in which to meditate, this does not mean that I can not take a deep breath from time to time or do a forward fold in the privacy of a bathroom.

I am also grateful (strategy #1!) that I am currently writing this from Playa Santa Teresa. I am here taking a break from being Tica and playing catch-up on my spirituality, as well as having fun in the sun. Yoga classes to the sound of ocean waves abound here and I have plans for my first meditation on a beach. I also, of course, am planning on engaging in all of the other strategies discussed on this blog entry here (see below).

7. Drink a little bit (but with caution)

I have to admit that some moments here, drinking has been the best remedy. When I first arrived in Santa Teresa all by myself, I was terrified of being lonely for many days and that I wouldn't make friends. A little wine to the rescue to try to combat that shy side of me and I found myself having interesting chats with backpackers from Germany, Denmark, England and San Francisco.

Another situation in which drinking seemed to be the best resort was last Sunday when Daniela convinced me to accompany her to a party in a town called Palmares. This turned out to be a sort of carnival, music festival and drinking fest all mixed into one. Under the hot Costa Rican sun, I suddenly found myself packed into a crowd full of drunk, college-aged Ticos, dancing in a way that Daniela described as vulgar (means the same in English) to reaggeton (I have no idea how you spell this) music. In Costa Rica apparantly at concerts a large part of the party culture involves cooling off by dumping beer onto each other's heads as well as spraying it into the rest of the crowd. At first I was slightly annoyed by all of this and felt incredibly old which had me feeling sad for a spell. Costa Rican Imperial and Rock Ice with lime to the rescue! This way I was more able to effectively dance and laugh with Daniela and her cousin Mariela at all of the borrachos in the crowd.

8. If all else fails, ask for forgiveness, forgive yourself, and move on

Nine hours, a nasty shoulder-strap sunburn and a beer-an-hour later, I was no longer able to effectively implement the strategies above. I kept telling Daniela that I was too American and too old to be at Palmares, frustrated with the fact that her and a boy she is dating (post breakup) kept telling me we would be leaving in 30 minutes even when they had said that hours before. As day grew into night (nights have been surprisingly cold in San Jose) and the pork I had eaten fermented in my belly along with the beer, I was no longer a happy camper. How quickly I seemed to have forgotten the laid back lifestyle of Tico Time (not to mention its Zambian cousin). I feel embarrassed about this bout of mal humor and wish I could have maintained more of a free spirit. Fortunately, this brings me again back to strategy number one. I am so grateful that I have created a relationship with my Costa Rican sister where she can see the bad side of me but forgive me and love me anyway.

As I mentioned, I am in Santa Teresa Beach for today before heading up to Playa Conchal tomorrow to finish the trip out with my host family before I catch my flight back to Colorado on Monday. Once again, I will find myself in a cultural situation where all of the above tips will be quite necessary. :)

January 25, 2012You know when really weird unexpected things happen and you wonder if you are seeing them correctly. This happened to me on my nightly stroll through the zoo tonight. As I turned the corner of the yellow baboon exhibit I found 3 large dromedary camels coming at me down the path way. I immediately stopped gasped and then grabbed my phone to call the head keeper. I had the feeling that the camels had not be given permission to take nightly jaunts around the zoo and three fully grown camels were more than I wanted to take on at the moment, especially I don’t know them very well as of yet. I also knew that we had a 4th camel somewhere; so as the first three I saw continued down the path I started my search for the last one as I awaited keepers to arrive. I did find him still chowing down in the makeshift camel exhibit (they were recently put in an empty field between a couple of the exhibits to “cut the grass”). Knowing where that one was I turned around and began to follow the other three, curious to where they were going. As it turned out they were on their way to the goat exhibit which is also the old exhibit they used to be in and I guess they had just decided that it was time for a visit. The keepers showed up and we escorted the last male into the goat exhibit with everyone else until we could get the fence fixed. The goats were rather upset about having their peaceful evening upset by 4 large camels coming in and taking over their barn. The mothers who have young goatlits were the most upset, especially the one who had just given birth yesterday. Today seemed to be the day for rounding up animals. I am currently working on updating the Munda Wanga collection list, this has not been done in the last couple of years and some of the keepers don’t even know how many animals they should have in each exhibit. I started today with reptiles since I thought it would be an easy category to start with. The Crocodiles, no problem, 3 males and 2 females, easy peasy. The yellow tortoises were another story entirely. Myself and their two keepers spent about ½ an hour just rounding them up from around their very over grown and large exhibit. I almost stepped on one while I was looking. Jeff, one of the keepers even climbed into their den to pull them out. And it’s not like once you rounded them up to one area they were going to sit there patiently, oh no they all go taking off into different direction, moving faster than you think a tortoise should be able to move . It’s like herding cats and some of the big girls were surprisingly heavy. As we found out once we started sexing them (determining if they were male or female) and counting them we had 28 females and 12 males; 40 leopard tortoises in total. We were all laughing by the time we were through. Yesterday I scheduled a surprise treat for all of the keepers as a thank you for doing such hard work on the daily’s that I introduced last week. I made apple crisp, another local volunteer made brownies, and one of the vet volunteers bought sodas. Again the keepers were really thrilled and are starting to believe that positive change is coming their way. I was also able to get up the new signs in the keeper office I am attempting to revamp so little things keep happening:)As for the baby animal news, Coco is continuing to do better and better with other Vervets. In fact both last night and this evening I witnessed him cuddling with the other female and grooming each other, such a positive step! In just 2 weeks we are going to be able to introduce 3 other Vervets that have also been in quarantine that were all pets gone wrong. The Kitten is also doing very well although she is no longer a little girl she is a he and one of the vet volunteers proposed the name Darwin to replace Arwin, but I am leaning toward Galahad myself because he has the heart and soul of an honest knight.My only regret about the past couple of days is that I haven’t had my camera with me. I am going to have to start carrying it all times just so I can capture all the unique experiences that keep happening to me here at Munda Wanga. That’s all for tonight I will continue to update about the weird and wacky world in which I find myself living. Love and miss you all, Tammy

When I had the Zambian picture show in Winthrop on Saturday, January 7th, the Lehman's insisted that we do it at their home and Charlie and Youngme also kept Bob and I at their home for the whole three days weekend.We had snow shoed in their hundreds' acres of farm land, to the Twisp River bank and back to their house before all friends came. All my dear Winthrop friends adopted Bob and me well. The morning before we drove 250 miles back to Bob's home we got another treat of morning tea with so many baked goodies from another group of friends at Chuch and Robin's place. On the top of this whole load of the fortune of friendships, this time we had really stopped to see the sign of the history that Chinese people were in the Methow valley many years back.........and on the top of all, we saw the mountain goats on the almost empty road side that allowed me to take pictures of them from the opened car window for these animals can be unpredictable at times.See, the cold snowy days were not all for the works and unconveniences only......Cheng 1/26/2012

This snow storm started on Saturday, January 14th while I was having 18 friends to come for my Zambian picture show and it came down on and off for the first four days all were about 5 inches on the ground. Wednesday there was good 10 inches of snow as weatherman reported. I went out to shovel the drive way and side walk; it was hard work for the snow was wet and heavy. Thursday morning, we were covered by a whole sheet of ice about half an inch thick all over every thing and every wehere, for it had rained down ice the whole night. Lucky that I did the shovel the day before; it would be way too heavy to shovel by this time. Bob did cleared the snow from the top of brushes; otherwise we would have them all broken down by this ice storm. The brooken down tree branches had brought down the power lines in many places so we got the power and internet outage for a few days. People who have generators were busy to get it work and rush to the gas station for fuel........we drove out ways before "a" gas station had power to do the businesses. Power was back on Saturday but the internet was not until Sunday night. Well, if Dr. Friedrich's office did not change my appointment from January 19th to February 16th, I can't drive out anywhere on those icy roads anyway. So very thankfully, I believed another time that there is reason for any thing to have happened. Also it will be a great memory to talk about with villagers when I returned to Zambia. Cheng 1/26/2012

Well once again my over reaching plan has changed, but at least this time around I am already seeing more quantifiable results. A few months ago a fellow volunteer came to visit my site, Ed “kick in the pants” O’connell. Ed is the other aquaculture promotion volunteer that was placed in Central Province from my intake. One day while he was at my site I confided in him about some of the struggles and apprehension I had met with getting fish farming going in my village. One of the biggest adversaries that I had faced was that of the dambo or a low lying area of land that collects water, similar in many regards to a swamp. The reason undrainable ponds are so feared is because the amount of controllable variables is significantly less. Now in training we learned about rural aquaculture that specifically dealt with drainable ponds. An area in which I had no prior knowledge and it was a beg step out of my comfort zone. Seeing that Nshinso has few to no furrows, I was a bit nervous of working with dambos or undrainable ponds, being an even further stretch outside of my comfort zone. Most volunteers avoid them if they can, a crowd of which I was apart. Then if the crowd of aquaculture volunteers that participate in dambo ponds is small, the group of volunteers that actively builds dams is that much smaller. Aquaculture was already a stretch for me, building a dam was just too far. Too far that is until Ed “kick in the pants” O’connell asked why I hadn’t already built one, making it seem like the most natural thing a person could do. For some reason this innate sense of reservation has not presented itself in Ed. I think it might have something to do with the fact that he has not read a single book at site. Instead, he has stock piled his hut with Peace Corps manuals, getting to know them quite intimately. To my good fortune I was in the process of staking ponds when one of my closest neighbors quite randomly expressed interest in building a dam for his dambo. So with Ed’s kick in the butt, I figured why not. Now building a dam is not exactly a small undertaking because you are trying to block a large amount of water all traveling one direction. Furthermore, seeing that this farmer was a subsistence farmer with two kids, the oldest being no more than two ruled the children out of helping. Also, he had little capital to invest in the hiring of help. Weighing these factors I eagerly offered my assistance seeing that I also had no idea what I was doing, this way we could help each other along. As a side note: A common theme in Peace Corps is getting asked for wheel barrows from the natives, seeing that many Aid organizations have built reputations for giving them out. I was not planning on doing this, so I figured it was a good chance to see what the bare minimum amount of tools was that we would need to build the dam. Even more so, no one else was using me and I figured why not. So, with two hoes and a shovel we started picking away at this monster panono panono(bit by bit). We broke ground and from the get go we were already having disagreements. More often than not I won the argument, but occasionally I would have to bite my tongue. We started around early October and a few days later the first rain was soon to follow. The problem with this is that as soon as the rain comes Ba Richard would have to start working on his maize field, which would halt any progress made on the dam. The first rain struck and we were filled with panic. If we had any hope of finishing we needed to kick it into high gear. A typical day would start at around 6am and we would work until 11am. Generally we stopped at 11am because by then the sun was beating down. The early rain also required us to plug the key early(center of the dam wall usually left to be filled at the end). This is because as the rain increases the flow of water running between the walls may become to strong and compromise our ability to plug the middle of it. So we plugged it prematurely even though the dam walls were not finished. Plugging the key early means that building the dam becomes a race. If the water level keeps rising, we then have to build the height of the walls before the water level reaches the top and flows over. We proceeded to plug the walls as quickly as possible, neither of us knowing if it would really hold water. The next day we kept working, continually observing the dam. We noticed something but both of us were too nervous to tell the other. Finally, after the second day we couldn’t hold it in any longer and I finally remarked quite jovially to Ba Richard, “Do you see that, it is actually blocking the water!” Just below the dam had completely dried. None of it was leaking. But the first rain was just that and the second and third were no where to be found. We continued digging, but day by day it seemed to just get hotter and dryer, eventually the dambo completely dried. Fortunately and unfortunately, the rain that led us to believe a down poor was coming turned out to be a flash in the pan. Crazy. It is the only way to describe how one feels when looking up at a cloudless sky, tossing on another shovel full of dirt as the wind picks up and blows it back in your face. You know that rainy season is supposed to be around the corner, but you begin to think that it is all in your head. In practice Ba Richard and I currently have a meter and a half high mound of dirt that is increasingly getting dryer as hot season progresses. In theory we have a dam. As the rains come, which should be any day now, the dyke wall is supposed catch the water, raising the water level. On either side of the dam approximately 20cm below the height of the dyke wall we have two spill ways, a place for the water to exit, before the dam over flows. As the water reaches the spill way it is then furrowed off. Water that originally acted as run off can now be used for gardens, drainable fish ponds or maize production. Also, it gives the farmer the ability to have a regular amount of water that can be irrigated for a few months of the year rather than depending on the unpredictability of the rains. Thus, my focus by working on a farmers demo plot has shifted from a top down, to a bottom up approach. “So Will, we have heard you rant about what you “trying” to do in the past and have seen how effective those attempts have been, what makes this time any different?”There are several things that have already made this plan much more effective. The first is that this farmer and the dam are quite close in proximity. From my door it is about a 10 minute walk to the dam and even closer to the farmer’s house. This cuts down significantly on travel time. Furthermore, it provides a visual for the farmers to see how the theory will work in practice as opposed to working purely from theory, also known as a demo plot. The next big benefit is that it effectively weeds out those who are just looking to waste my time. Before I would bike about 30 minutes to Nshinso(the epicenter of my village), set up times to meet with farmers in town and then wait about 2 hours for them not to show up. Then I had a nice 30 minute bike ride back home. In all, my previous method wasted about 3 hours or more of my day producing no results. Now just I set up a time with the farmer for them to meet me at my site. This allows them to see a dam being properly built, also providing an opportunity for them to talk with Ba Richard explaining things that I might leave out, in their native language Bemba. So how has the plan actually worked in practice? Since we have started, I have had about scheduled 7 meetings and three of people I have scheduled with have actually shown up. For those that did not show up, instead of wasting over 3hrs I have relaxed in my hut reading or occupying my time with other activities. If you make it out to my site to see the dam I will then explain the finer points of dam construction. This gives the farmer a chance to see a finished working model and you have won the chance for me to visit your site and make a site assessment. Out of the three farmers that have visited, I have staked three dams and two have broken ground. For this late in the season I tally the progress as a huge success.

So for the last year and 10 months I have been talking the talk. And it is easy, telling people you are about to go somewhere without really having any plans laid out, piece of cake(preferable chocolate on chocolate).

However in 1hour I will be Walking the Walk. I leave Philly for JFK at 1:30am then after a 15 hour flight I am off to South Africa and transfer onto another flight to Zambia. Then next two days will be a lot of traveling, and a lot of transitions, but I am taking this adventure one moment at a time.

A group of us went to dinner tonight, which was fun. For the first time in a long time I did not need to explain my reasoning for going or defend this journey I just had to get to know people that are on the same journey. There are 37 of us in the group leaving today.

I am excited/nervous/shocked/numb/sad/happy x billion but I am giving this a try one day at a time and keeping a positive attitude!

It is weird to think this is actually happening, maybe when I hit the ground in Zambia tomorrow I will feel it more. For right now I am going to enjoy my last U.S. shower. ahhhh

Today's run

Distance: 7 miles

Time: ~60 minutes

Weather/time: 34F at 4:30pm.

Traffic: None on the trails, thank you. Lots on the streets so I avoided those.

For this afternoon's run I did a loop on the MKT and the County House Branch Trail. Columbia's newest trail is a wonderful needed route that helps get runners and bicyclists from southwest Columbia across that dreaded highway that cuts through our neighborhoods (read: Stadium Blvd.) It is so named for the former Boone County Poor House or the County House. I am not sure where this structure exactly is, but I am committed to finding out. The creek so named for the former County House or Poor Farm runs behind my house.

With the opening of the County House Branch Trail there is a great run that pushing it I can do in an hour or thereabouts. I see geese, deer, birds, humans and their dogs. They see me. The trail is being discovered slowly by more and more humans but for the most part I had it to myself yesterday afternoon. I pushed and completed my 7 miles in under an hour, which is great because I only had one hour in which to run.

80 training days left until St. Louis Marathon.

I guess I should be happy that Ive finally made it to the 90 day mark but its really bittersweet. I officially have three months left in Zambia and three months to wrap up two years of work. My time in the village is starting to feel like one long drawn out goodbye. I have so many things that I want to complete but I feel like I have no time to do it. Never thought I would feel this way, but two years is really not a long time at all.

Ive finally got the literacy group started in my village and people are excited for the opportunity to learn. The resource center that I have been trying to stocks since I first arrived FINALLY has some books and there are more on the way, thanks to my Alma mater Maryville College. I feel at home in my hut, maybe too much so as I like to hide away on the weekends. I feel grounded in the village, like I'm suppose to be there.

I wanted to extend. I went back and forth in my mind about staying in Zambia. The program in Kenya I wanted to extend with is no longer an option so I thought about doing something special education related in Zambia. It didn't work out. I'm not ready to go back to Americaland. I have to start speaking proper American English and I'm not sure if I can. I'm scared of all the people, the noises, the cars, the lack of communication on transport, the pace of America and choices. I'm so nervous about choices. I am excited to see my family and friends, to be able to trust transportation, to stand in a line and know for sure that I am next, to eat sushi and to be in Chattanooga again. But it'll be extremely hard to leave this place. This has been my life for 2 years and its become so normal and Ive adapted to this way of life.

BUT on the bright side of things. I do have plans for this term. Instead of trying to extend to do special education work, Ill be working at Musakanya Basic in Mpika Boma in my last three months of service. The school has a Special Education Unit which is specifically for Deaf students up to grade seven. I went to the school and talked with the Headmaster and a few of the teachers. They welcomed me and were very excited that I was interested in working with them but upset that Ill be leaving in April. One of the teachers at the school is Deaf herself and was impressed that I could actually sign. She told me I was a much better signer than the other teachers and I needed to come to the school so she could have someone to talk with. Yup that was the highlight of the day for sure. Since I live 105k from the school it will be a "come when you can" type of situation. I'm happy that they are willing to work with me. This is something Ive wanted to do since my first year but I never felt I had the time.

Since I am not teaching at my school this term, I have more time to do other things. I decided that I didn't want to start something I couldn't finish with this new group of Grade 9s. Ive been able to work start to finish with two grade 9 classes and its something that I loved about teaching here. I got to see the kids grow. I don't want to start in term one and not be able to follow them all the way through their grade 9 year. Ill be there for tutoring, and I want to go in a few days a week and start a reading program with them but I cant be their English teacher. Kinda sad but its better this way. Ill get to work more on teacher training in the schools which is something I enjoy and something that needs to happen. Ill also have enough time to work at the preschool and with the teacher on curriculum development. The teacher is good with the kids, they just aren't learning as much as they could. I guess since this is their start to education its only fair that they start their route memory training now but if I can teach the teacher a new way to set up her classroom and help with new methods then maybe the kids can learn a bit more before they go to Grade 1. Ive seen a few of the preschool kids from last year at Mpumba and they look so cute and eager to learn. Its refreshing!

I guess for the next three months Ill take as many pictures as I can, sit with as many people as I can and eat all the Nshima my body can handle and try not to look at my neighbors like its the last time. I can do this....I can. Its like my first 3 months all over again. Living in two places at once and not knowing exactly where I want/need to be and not knowing how to focus on the here and now. That should really be the goal for the next three...focus on the present and enjoy it for what it is.