I promised myself I would keep up with this blog . I’m not even sure if anyone is reading it anymore, as it was something I decided to do upon finding out I would be living for two years in the African bush and needed some sort of semi-consistent mode of communication with my friends and family back here in America. Yet in writing about my experiences and recording my thoughts and reflections, I have found a great outlet. The two years I spent in Africa have essentially changed me in ways that I am still only beginning to understand. Writing about what I am feeling and experiencing as I adjust back to life in a developed country helps me to understand how and why I have changed. So if anyone is still out there following my rants… great! If not, that’s ok too. I’ll still send out my thoughts into cyberspace every so often. ☺

When it was getting down to the end of my service in Zambia, I began to hear the term ‘readjustment’ more and more; all the reverse culture shock I would experience; how no one would care about the experiences I had or even ‘get it’; how I would be so excited to get back to the states, only to find myself praying for one more day in Zambia. I guess at this point I am still waiting for all of these emotions to hit, yet after three months I find it to be a slim possibility. I guess I consider myself lucky that I haven’t experienced an incredibly difficult transition period, and I realize that everyone deals with the transition differently and adjusts back to living in a completely different world at a different pace. Yet I’m starting to believe that a lot of the potential hardships of readjustment are fed to us before we leave. We are told exactly how we should expect to feel as if there is no alternative. I don’t mean to detract from or devalue in any way the different ways in which people adjust returning to the States after living abroad. I only want to shed light on an alternative to feeling depressed, overwhelmed, and unhappy. For me, it was time to come home. But the relative ease of my transition doesn’t mean it hasn’t been a major life change. I have internalized the changes I know I need to make in my life after living in Zambia. I make a conscious effort to not waste time sitting in front of the television. I notice portion sizes at restaurants and try to get two meals out of one. I turn off lights when I leave the room. I spend as much time outdoors as I can. I make an effort to limit my wardrobe to clothes I actually wear. I appreciate the positive and real relationships in my life and try to let those people know how important they are to me on a more regular basis. I try to stay true to my soul and appreciate the simple things in life. The key word here is try; I’m trying. Although I know I stray and easily get caught up in what can be an incredibly overwhelming fast pace of life filled with responsibilities and obligations, I try to stay grounded.

In April, I was asked to be the key note speaker at Eastview High School’s National Honor Society Induction Ceremony. Although I dread public speaking, writing the speech really gave me the opportunity to address my transition from the village to Minneapolis. The speech actually evolved into a sort of personal mission statement. I’ve copied it here:

Good evening inductees, current members, families, friends, and staff. Honestly I’m not one to jump at the opportunity to speak publicly. Frankly I find it a bit scary and intimidating. So when Mr. Beach asked me to address you tonight I thought back to my own induction into Eastview National Honor society almost ten years ago. Looking back, I can tell you truthfully that I don’t have the faintest recollection of who the honorary speaker was. And to be honest, this truth gives me a bit of comfort tonight. So why have I decided to speak in front of an entire auditorium of people who probably won’t remember my name in a week, let alone ten years from now? Well, although I don’t remember the theme of the speech or who delivered it, I remember feeling inspired as I sat where you sit now and began to become aware of the potential I held. It is a privilege that you have all earned to be a part of NHS. Through your dedication to scholarship, character, leadership, and service you have basically proven that you rock. But it is all too easy at this time in your life to become so entrenched in obligations to your family, your friends, your teachers, your coaches, that you forget your obligation to yourself. I am honored to address you fine people tonight, but most of all I feel honored to remind you that even as you go on to more education, your career, the military, traveling… whatever you choose, all you need to do is be aware of who you are at this exact moment and what got you to this point. If you always remember to return to the simplicity of your being, to the basics of your personality and what you know yourself to be, you will always be a rock star. You can’t know the world until you know yourself, and service to others begins with self-awareness. If two years living in the African bush taught me anything, it is that what is simple is what matters most, and to never let yourself go broke believing the simple should be hard.

I often woke with the crowing roosters at 4 a.m. to load up my bike (I still wish I could list ‘strapping things to bikes’ as a marketable skill on my resume) and start off on the two and a half hour cycle to the nearest main road before the sun got to a scorchingly hot point in the sky. One particular morning I remember feeling especially stressed about certain meetings I had in town, and what seemed to be the constant failure of my recent project efforts in the village. Although an incredible inconvenience, the bike-ride to the main road often became a necessity for my mental and emotional health. In other words, I had a lot of deep thoughts while cycling through the African bush. Approximately thirty minutes into the ride, without fail, I would pass by the token village eccentric, a very strange man I like to refer to as both the village welcoming and farewell committee combined into one human being. Most days he would be pacing back and forth on the bike path outside his home like a soldier, stopping to salute the morning sun every so often, all the while chatting away to himself. However, one morning I didn’t notice him in his usual spot. As I continued on my way, I began to notice a dark figure moving among the branches of a tree fifty meters ahead and figured it to be some sort of animal. Yet upon closer inspection, I quickly realized that the same crazy man had climbed and was perched in the tree, wearing nothing but a loincloth and some sort of cape. He had a large fruit in one hand, and was determinedly pounding it against a tree branch. I yelled out the standard morning greeting up to him, “Mwashibukeni Mukwai!” and I’ll never be sure exactly what he yelled back to me as I passed by, for I was desperately trying to keep my pace with the Black-Eyed Peas pounding through my iPod. But the fact is it doesn’t matter what he said. I proceeded to have the best bike ride of my whole two years, as the reality that yes, that did just happen, sunk in over and over again.

So you’re probably wondering why I’m telling you the story of a scantily-clad tree climber making music with fruit as you are about to be inducted into National Honor Society. It is because this story, with all its hilarity and ridiculousness, never failed to bring me back me back down to earth. Through all the crazy ups and downs, the moments of sheer frustration, the triumphs, the big failures, the small successes… when I remembered to just laugh and not take myself or life too seriously, it was doing so that kept me grounded and allowed me to learn what it means to serve. It helped me return to the simple things; the small stuff, because it’s all small stuff. And if you get too wrapped up in complexities and formulas, returning to the small stuff can never fail to save you.

Throughout my time as a student at St. Olaf College, learning about all the different ways to serve others was nothing if not overwhelming. I traveled to Mexico twice in those four years; once to aid in building houses in the border town of Juarez, and another time to study social programs and medical care in central Mexico. For the first time in my life, I saw real need. I was an eyewitness to dire poverty, to the clear reality of living on less than a dollar a day. I remember returning from one of these trips and breaking down emotionally from the seeming unfairness of it all. As a middle child, I desperately cling to my belief that life should be fair, and to see such black and white in life was both eye opening and heart wrenching. How can a small flowing stream, namely the Rio Grande, divide a haven of wealth and economic success from abject poverty and houses made of recycled tin? Why was life going to be unquestionably more difficult and full of economic hardship for those growing up on the ‘wrong’ side of the river? Although the answers to these questions are exceedingly more complicated than the questions that create them, I began to feel a desire and drive to search for an answer; an answer not only to why we have such need in this world, but the ultimate answer as to what can be done to create some sort of global balance. Returning to my eternal concept of fairness, I wanted to know what those who were born on third base could do for those who were struggling to make it to first, or even out of the dug-out. What is the best way that I can be of service to others? I saw need, and I felt compelled to understand it.

As citizens of a developed country, I viewed our specified role as that of a giver. I decided to join the Peace Corps because, in my eyes, it was the best way to begin to fulfill this role. But I would be lying if I didn’t also admit that my sense of adventure factored heavily into my decision to apply to live in a mud hut for two years. I graduated from St. Olaf having just begun to ask the big questions, just beginning to ask what it means to serve and how I can best be of service to others. I was about to find out that what I needed wasn’t answers, but merely the ability to ask the right questions.

When you take a look outside of yourself; when you step outside of your own beliefs, notions, and way of life, put on some else’s shoes and walk around in them for awhile, you are gaining a worldview that can only enhance your introspection. When you look at the world through someone else’s eyes, your own life is illuminated. My two years of service in Zambia can be summed up essentially as a return to the basics. Waking up every morning in a mud hut with a grass roof over your head can really cause one to appreciate the simple things in life; ultimately you don’t have a choice but to appreciate them. I fetched my water at the nearby river, carrying it over my back to my hut every day, being careful to conserve every drop, ever mindful of the amount used for drinking, dishes, and bathing. I started a fire every morning in order to make the necessary cup of coffee. I swept. I walked everywhere. Often times it felt as if half my day was spent greeting my neighbors in the village, as any social interaction not involving ten minutes of greetings was considered incredibly rude. I knew when the moon would be full and the children would stay up late serenading the night sky that never failed to show off the spanning Milky Way. I gave away my watch and told time by the constancy of the sun. I owned not a single mirror, and entertained myself by reading and writing. Irony is traveling to Africa to give of yourself to others, and in turn receiving the gift of finding yourself.

There is a quote by John Steinbeck that sheds light on the fine line between giving and receiving. He said to a friend once, “It is so easy to give, so exquisitely rewarding. Receiving on the other hand, if it be well done, requires a fine balance of self-knowledge and kindness. It requires humility and tact and great understanding of relationships. In receiving you cannot appear, even to yourself, better or stronger or wiser than the giver, although you must be wiser to do it well". Through the restructuring of my every day life, the true definition of service began to reveal itself. As I was peeling back the layers of my life and returning to the basics, I was in turn peeling back the layers of what it means to serve others so that, through all the facets and complexities, I arrived at a very primitive definition of service. The simplicity of my life began to parallel what I saw as a return to the simplistic nature of serving. I was realizing that my greatest successes in Zambia, the times when I was happiest, stemmed directly from the intangible. It was in the realization of empowerment on a clinic worker’s face when they knew they could facilitate healthcare education sessions completely on their own. It was in the gradual growing comfort those in the village felt around me the longer I was a part of their community. It was in the smile on a child’s face paired with slight confusion as they colored a picture of Mickey Mouse with a crayon for the first time on my doorstep. I realized that for me, service was becoming not just an act of giving, but an act of receiving as well.

When I saw the peculiar man in the tree that morning, I began to realize that in focusing all of my efforts on giving, I had forgotten the other half of service; the ability to receive. It is not our responsibility as citizens of the western world to ‘save’ those of developing countries. They don’t need our ‘saving’. The best type of service we can give them is one that comes from a combination of understanding and empathy. The best service we can give is service that is both informed and aware. When you put yourself out there, really open yourself up to other experiences, other cultures, the crazy ‘gong show’ (as I like to call it) of life on what all too often seems like another planet, it is then that you serve. When you remember that God has a sense of humor, when you stop taking yourself too seriously, when you take a moment to remember what makes you come alive and inspires your soul, it is then that you serve. So essentially it all becomes about awareness not only of the world around you, but of yourself.

You don’t need to move to a developing country for two years in order to become aware of the world. You don’t need to renounce your possessions, or live in a mud-brick hut with a thatched roof to have empathy for those living in poverty. Honestly it kind of just makes everyone think you are a bit ‘off your rocker’. All you need to do is be aware. Not only of the different ways in which people live their lives, but of how the way you live your life fits into the great puzzle. Being a member of NHS is testament to your character and potential to play significant roles in the course of the world’s future. You demonstrate the four pillars in your lives every day: scholarship, leadership, character, and service. Tonight I’ve focused mainly on service, yet the linking of all four pillars is not a secret. In the words of Howard Thurman, “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Never lose your spirit or compromise your soul. Live your life aware of who exactly it is you are, and you will live a life of service. Thank you, and congratulations on your induction into Eastview High School’s National Honor Society.

Here is an essay that I have been working on since returning from Zambia. I am still trying to formulate my thoughts into a cohesive expression/understanding of the past two years...

Since returning home from two years of volunteer service in Zambia through the Peace Corps, it hasn’t been malls, grocery stores, clocks, or all the white people not staring at me that I’ve found most overwhelming. Of course readjusting to the fast pace of life, the easy access to information and 50 different types of shampoo has been anything but underwhelming, the most difficult adjustment has been fielding questions from friends and family that never fail to include, ‘That must have been so difficult’, ‘I could never do anything like that’, or ‘How did you deal with all the poverty?’. If the past two years have taught me anything, it is that my definition of service deserved a dramatic restructuring. I’ve barely scratched the surface of understanding service, peeling back the layers of what it means to serve others so that, through all the complexities, I’ve arrived at a very primitive definition of service.

It is not our responsibility as citizens of the western world to ‘save’ those of developing countries. They never were and never will be ours for the saving. The best type of service we can give is service that comes from a combination of understanding and empathy, service that is both informed and aware. When you put yourself out there, truly allow yourself to be swept up by new experiences and foreign cultures in a place that all too often seems like another planet, you serve others. You take a look outside of yourself and your world. You quite literally step into someone else’s shoes and walk around in them for awhile, and you do so while gaining a worldview that can only enhance your introspection. I left Zambia with a million more questions than those with which I arrived. Thinking you know all the answers will only leave you stuck in a self- satisfied world that can become all too comfortable.

But grassroots development is most definitely not the only definition of service. Service can build its roots as close as your front doorstep. There is no need to move to a developing country for two years in order to become aware of the world around you. One does not need to renounce their possessions or live in a mud-brick hut with a thatched roof to have empathy for those living in poverty. The ultimate necessity is awareness. Read not only the newspaper, but online blogs and discussion forums. If you plan to give money to an organization aiding in development, look into not only the goals and aims of that organization, but where most of their costs are to see where your money is likely to end up.

We often think of service as a sort of transaction between two entities; one performs the act of giving, while the other in turn performs the act of receiving. Both are happy in their perceived roles, and the transaction we picture is straight forward and void of any confusion or misunderstanding. But when the lines are blurred the roles become interchangeable. The giver becomes also a receiver, and vise versa. This is the place where service finds its true definition, a definition realized only through awareness of these interchanging roles. It’s a bit ironic that it took serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in one of the poorest countries in the world to begin to comprehend the true nature of receiving. John Steinbeck once wrote to a friend, “It is so easy to give, so exquisitely rewarding. Receiving on the other hand, if it be well done, requires a fine balance of self- knowledge and kindness. It requires humility and tact and great understanding of relationships. In receiving you cannot appear, even to yourself, better or stronger or wiser than the giver, although you must be wiser to do it well.” Break out of the black and white roles of service, into the lovely gray of relationships where both parties stand to benefit.

Africa doesn’t need money; it doesn’t need more Peace Corps volunteers; it doesn’t need fancy formulas for development; what it needs is awareness of its reality on the part of both Africans and foreigners. Africa does not exist to fulfill the sole role of receiver; it has way too much to give back to us to be stuck in such a box. T.S. Elliot claimed that, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” When we challenge our view of the world, we challenge our actions in accordance with that worldview. We grow; we learn; we serve. We peel back the layers to reveal that we went broke thinking the simple should be hard.

Long story short: I got sick. Peace Corps couldn't figure out or treat what was wrong. I was sent home one month early, and have officially been back in Minnesota since March 17th.

I apologize to anyone who has been following this blog and didn't know that I left a bit early. I look now at the last time I updated, February 15, and feel a little bad that it was more than two months ago! A lot has changed since then.

My health situation has since been figured out. And I'm fine. I guess the most exciting updates are as follows: I take showers as often as I can. (I forgot how nice it is to have fluffy, clean towels to dry off with.) I make coffee with a coffee maker every morning. I go for runs in suburbia where no one stares at me. (I have yet to get on a bike... that will take some time.) I have a lease starting in june on an apartment in uptown minneapolis; One part-time job; Currently looking for one or two more. I've been dating. I've been drinking too many good beers. And all the food I eat is so tasty I can barely believe it. :)

Ultimately i'm happy to be home. And to be honest, I don't miss Zambia right now. Of course I will never regret my experience there, but it was past time to come home. I am sure that as time goes by I'll begin to miss aspects of my life there as well as people I met. But I am in such a better place mentally and emotionally right now. A big difference I've noticed in myself since I've returned is that I unfailingly find joy in the little things. And it's all little stuff. :)

So what's next? Trying to figure that one out...

I am looking at grad schools for mass communication/journalism and hope to head back to school in the fall of 2011 or 2012. I'll probably be sticking around the cities for about a year. After that, who knows? Colorado... New York... Texas... California...

I want to remain stateside for awhile. I see myself traveling and possibly living abroad again. It just feels too great to be home right now.

I am planning to keep up with this blog, and will write more about my readjustment back to Americaland. If you like it, read it. If not, no worries. :)

Again, I apologize for not being on top of updates. Yay for this amazing Minnesota spring, and go Twins!

take care. and peace.

katie

A capital city with no sidewalks, in a country where the majority of the people walk everywhere they go; Buses and cars in a hot rush, in a place where time holds no meaning and nothing happens quickly; A country powered on the backs of the hard work of women, who hold no financial or legal power in their own households; A people obsessed with money and social status, living in a socialist society where individuals are not meant to stand out above others; A focus on what something looks like to outsiders, with no attention paid to the inner quality; An established national language, which the majority of citizens fail to speak or comprehend.

The more time I spend in Zambia, the more contradictions I notice. I’ve been stuck in Lusaka dealing with medical issues since Thursday, and have been feeling more and more frustrated with what I see and experience here. As a disclaimer, I’ll mention that of course contradictions exist everywhere in the world; I highlight those in Zambia because in order to understand them I need to put them out there, address them head-on. For my personal sanity I feel a need to comprehend them. Why are things they way they are? Why do people behave the way they behave? My life here is a futile yet hopeful attempt to put the pieces together, although I have the feeling they won’t complete any sort of logical puzzle. I’m destined to leave Zambia with far more questions than with which I came.

Lately even I feel like a walking contradiction. I’m living in one of the poorest countries in the world, in a rural village not found on a map, trying to work with local people to change their behavior. But what if the situation were reversed? If a purple-colored person moved to suburban Minnesota and tried to get me to change my behavior, I would most definitely think they were crazy. Oh, and did I mention that person isn’t fluent in English? Lately I find myself losing passion for grassroots development work. Grass can’t grow if it doesn’t receive nourishment from the sky. People cannot thrive with a government that consistently fails to protect their rights and best interests. If my neighbors in the village were somehow able to afford to travel to Lusaka, they might just die of shock upon seeing the wealth that resides in their capital city. The class disparities in Zambia are black and white, with very little grey in between; it might as well be two separate countries.

Foreigners come here to ‘help’ the people, while the government continues take a lot off the top, breeding both corruption and greed. As cynical as it sounds, power and money come hand-in-hand, and what chance does the majority have if they are poor, lack access to quality education, and are powerless to keep themselves healthy and thus alive? In a perfect world they’d have a fighting chance, but the haunting reality remains that they don’t.

I am almost to the point of feeling hopeless after living here for two years; I can’t imagine the hopelessness one must feel raised in a country that doesn’t even pretend to care about their future. Correction: they do pretend to care, which may be even worse, as it creates the illusion of a potential that can easily be fulfilled. It takes not only a strong sense of self and a willful character to succeed as a Zambian raised outside Lusaka, but help from institutions put in place for the specific purpose of helping. I believe that certain institution is not Peace Corps. It isn’t NGO’s. It isn’t anyone that is not Zambian. It is institutions created by Zambians, made up of Zambians, run by Zambians that have the responsibility to help their fellow citizens.

As a volunteer in Zambia, I am lying to myself if I say that I am doing more for Zambia than it is doing for me. The ultimate truth is that I have gained more from this experience than any Zambian who has known me. And I will return to the United States a more informed citizen because of the opportunities my own country has afforded me. I attended public schools funded by my government. I burrowed money from my government to attend college. I say my government because it is a government with which I have a relationship; Although I’ll admit not always a perfect one, a relationship nonetheless. I would venture to say that tragically few rural Zambians feel any semblance of a connection to their government, and thus lies the contradiction in the Zambian government; It is a government that doesn’t govern its people. A government is a branch or service of the supreme authority of a state or nation, taken as representing the whole. If one is representing themselves and the interests of a select few, they are not a true government. Until the Zambian government decides to govern its people, those same people will continue to die of HIV, be unemployed, turn to the bottle, and experience no quality education and thus ability to better their own situation in life. That is true hopelessness, and it stems from contradiction.

I will be home in a little over two months, and it will be good for me to reflect on my time in Zambia from a different perspective. Although hindsight tends to blind itself to the ‘bad’ and illuminate the ‘good’, I don’t want to forget what has been negative in my experiences here; the frustrations and criticisms are just as important as the positive and praised. It’s human nature to find the silver lining, but we can’t ignore the dark clouds. Until we weather the storm, we can’t experience the sunshine.

katie

I believe that approaches to development are changing constantly. As an agent of healthcare development in Africa, if I don’t consistently assess and alter my personal approach at the extreme rural level, how can I expect to effectively participate in that development as a whole? I tend to yo-yo between the belief that all foreign aid should pull out of Africa as soon as possible, and the belief that there is hope in a system of foreign aid that actually helps those who need it most. But hope can only come from consistent dialogue amongst outside agents of development as well as host country nationals.

Among the PC volunteer community, there is a constant running dialogue surrounding whether or not any of us should really be here, and if we are actually doing more harm than good. We share our idealistic solutions to anyone that will listen, as well as our growing list of frustrations regarding living in the middle of the African bush without money or resources for the work we are expected to do; but we would be kidding ourselves if we thought we were the only foreign aid workers in the country who have these conversations.

I attended a development panel last week that opened up such a dialogue between the Peace Corps, NGOs, and the US Embassy in Zambia. It was held at the one of the higher-up Embassy officer’s home in Lusaka. (Light snacks and wine were served…they haven’t learned yet to keep Peace Corps volunteers away from free-flowing drinks…). Although we took time to appreciate good old-fashioned chips and salsa (even salsa con queso!), our main focus was kept on the questions put forth to us by American aid workers outside of Peace Corps (identified by their slick-backed hair, suits, and lack of flip-flops). We talked for a couple hours, although it felt like mere minutes, about issues such as handing out large sums of money to rural villagers, the entrepreneurial spirit (or lack-there-of, according to the US embassy) of Zambians, Zambian politics and its role in aid, and how we can keep hope in what all too often seems to be a hopeless situation regarding development in this country. There was a panel made up of 2 American employees of NGOs in Lusaka, 1 employee of the US Embassy, and 3 Peace Corps Volunteers (representing the education, health, and agriculture projects). Although at times the discussion turned to debate and became a bit heated, what was most significant about the panel discussion was its ability to help us realize the tremendous importance of what we have to teach each other. Although sometimes we hate to admit it, as rurally-placed volunteers we have a lot to learn from those focused on the big picture of development in Zambia. And even those dressed in suit and tie, living in fancy gated homes made to separate Africa from their small American haven, have something to learn from the liberal, tanned and dirty Peace Corps volunteers who spend two years trying to blend into a rural community in the bush, whose job it is to focus on the small picture, the ‘roots’ of grassroots development. If we can learn to listen to one another and open up our discussions and conversations to another point of view, development in this country can only stand to gain. However, there is one party missing from this equation, a group of the utmost importance, without which there would be no equation in the first place. This group consists of Zambians themselves.

One comment made by an NGO worker at the panel rang especially true; that we cannot afford to forget that we are guests in this country. We are welcomed with open arms, complete with a plethora of greetings and handshakes, into Zambia. Zambians desire to show us their culture, the way they live, their beliefs and values, their lives in such a way that allows us to call this land-locked country in sub-saharan Africa that so easily gets lost in the shuffle our home for as long as we choose to stay. Ultimately, no matter what projects we work on, how strong the relationships we form with host country nationals, or how long we talk around the point of development in Zambia, none of us need to be here; from the volunteer carrying water to her hut everyday to the US Embassy worker in charge of dispensing small-scale grants to community schools to the Director of World Vision. Ultimately we should all be constantly working ourselves out of our jobs here. Zambia is developing from the hard work of Zambians, not foreigners. We have to recognize that we are here to aid with that development, not to do it ourselves. I feel like a broken record when I say that development in this country can only come from Zambians themselves; but surely this seemingly simple concept has defined my service and life here for the past two years.

Maybe it’s the tiny hippie hidden somewhere inside me, but I tend to get a bad taste in my mouth when seeing foreign aid workers driving around fancy land cruisers with USAID (United Stated Agency for International Development) emblazoned on the side. I know part of this bitterness comes from seeing them pass by me as I’m stuck hitch-hiking on the side of the road (dude, my tax dollars help pay for that vehicle!), but mostly I tend to think they are missing what’s right in front of them; the projects they fund and work they do doesn’t trickle down to those at the very rural level who need it most. I’m angry at them for not seeing what slaps me in the face every morning that I wake up in my village. But when I get caught up in this anger and bitterness I only forget that they may have the same frustrations with me. I am only focused on development at the smallest of scales, and I don’t see all that goes into efforts to dispense developmental initiatives across an entire country. I don’t see successes and failures on a national level. I don’t have a degree in foreign affairs or international development. I only have my experiences of the past two years, experiences that have never failed to spark my curiosity in the big picture. After discussing/debating development efforts with those with the fancy suits, many pc volunteers feel even more put off by those at the top. As for me, I find myself more intrigued. There is so much more to learn, and unless you are willing to keep your mouth shut long enough to hear another point of view you’ll find yourself stuck in a self-satisfied world in which it’s easy to feel a bit too comfortable. It doesn’t help to criticize a system over and over again. We need to learn to understand that system, its failures and successes, and work within it ourselves in order to change it. I could see myself possibly working internationally in the future, at what capacity I’m not sure. But my interest has definitely been sparked.

The group I came to Zambia with almost 2 years ago had our COS (close of service) Conference in Lusaka last week. There were 52 of us at the beginning, and now we are 45. 15 people in my group have chosen to extend their service for a third year, most continuing their work with different NGOs in Lusaka. In order to celebrate the near-end to our time in Zambia, Peace Corps put us up in a fancy lodge for 2 nights about an hour outside of Lusaka. During the day we had sessions on the logistics of finishing up our service as well as moving on with life after Peace Corps. But the best part of the conference was hanging out with 44 other people who all seem to be in about the same place mentally and emotionally as I do right now, 44 other people who have been living here for the same amount of time as I have. At this point, in the thick of rainy season, most all of us have finished with our projects and are ready to move on to what is next. Of course there is that bittersweet feeling that always accompanies ending an incredible yet, at times, extremely frustrating experience that can’t help but change you. I booked my flight home, and should be arriving in Minneapolis (I pray it’s not too cold) on April 24th. Although I feel more confused now more than when I came regarding exactly what it is I want to do next, I feel at peace with the fact that I’ll figure it out. I know what makes me happy, and I’ve learned to find comfort in the little things. It’s time to leave Zambia behind me, knowing that what I learned here I will carry with me for the rest of my life. And that’s all I know for sure. As so succinctly put by Tom Petty:

It’s time to move on. It’s time to get going.

What lies ahead I have no way of knowing.

Under my feet the grass is growing.

It’s time to move on. It’s time to get going.

katie

Search no more. I believe I have found the most beautiful corner of sub-saharan Africa. Mozambique lays on the eastern side of southern Africa, forming a long stretch of coastline on the Indian Ocean. Not only is the country itself magnificently beautiful, but the people exude beauty from their language to their welcoming manner. Mozambique was colonized by Portugal, causing Portugese to be the official language. Yet the dialect spoken is ‘africa-fied’ in such a way that could only create a perfect mix of Bantu and Romantic tongues.

In an effort to cut back on the number of absolute travel nightmares while roaming in Africa (although they never cease to make the best stories after the fact), my friends and I decided to fly first to Johannesberg in South Africa and continue on from there to Mozambique by bus. At this point in my Peace Corps service, I have no qualms with experiencing a bit of westernized culture for the sake of my sanity. South Africa never fails to be somewhat of an oasis for the Peace Corps Africa volunteer community. McDonalds, malls, customer service, 4-lane highways, sandwiches, diversity, and did I mention McDonalds?? Maybe I should find it a bit shameful to admit that 75% of the time we had in Johannesberg was spent at the local shopping mall. But just to have so many options and people who are willing to help you make decisions; to have efficiency, to be perfectly honest… it made me ridiculously happy.

After spending one night in the big city of Joberg, we hopped on a 6-hour bus headed for Nelspruit (near the border of South Africa and Mozambique). I believe I’ve mentioned this multiple times already on this blog, but you learn to fly by the seat of your pants when you live in Africa. When you make plans you only set yourself up for disappointment; whereas when you let go of any expectations and just let the cards fall as they may, you are bound to be pleasantly surprised. Although this philosophy conforms nicely to my lifestyle in Zambia, I realize it will need to be adjusted upon my return to Americaland. Having some sort of game plan seems to work out much better that side of the Atlantic.

Upon our arrival in Nelspruit, we made our way to the mini-bus station in hopes of getting on a last-minute bus going to Maputo, the capital of Mozambique. Living in a peaceful country such as Zambia has increased our naivite when it comes to traveling in Africa. As we were walking to the bus station, multiple people pulled their cars over to concernedly inform us that we should not be walking around this town as foreigners; that is was actually incredibly unsafe. Stuck with only the possessions on our back, no car, and no clue when it came to our orientation in Nelspruit, we justified our will to get to the bus station by the false security of power in numbers. I can honestly say that it was not the best situation to be in and we should consider ourselves fortunate that everything ended up working out sans any sort of confrontation. We got on a cramped mini-bus to the border and proceeded to Maputo knees against the seats in front of us, necks cocked to the side, heads pressed against the roof. All we wanted and needed to do upon arrival at the backpackers in Mozambique was shower. There was no water. We camped on the roof of the kitchen and due to pure exhaustion were able to fall asleep despite the stagnant humid heat that would come to be a common theme for us on Mozambiquean nights. We woke up the next morning dirty and stinky, but with beach on the mind and the determination to get to our next destination.

We were told by staff at the backpackers that due to the nightmare that is transport in Mozambique, we should abandon dreams of making it to Vilancoulos (our northernmost destination), and instead stop in Xhai-Xhai first, then head onto Tofo. Of course when you don’t own a vehicle in Africa, public transport becomes the only option more often than not. But we were just one hellish, hot-box, cramped mini-bus (termed chapas in Mozambique) ride away from surf and sand in Xhai-Xhai. We were like children when we finally arrived at the beach, running to the water through the sand with the energy, it seemed, to swim all the way to India. Someone from above smiled down on us when we scored our own beach house for what amounted to about 10 US dollars per person per night, complete with air conditioning, kitchen, grill, shower, and our own private stretch of beach. Needless to say, we extended our stay in Xhai-Xhai by a few days and found it hard to tear ourselves away from that paradise and brave another round of transport to Tofo. We cooked lobster for Christmas, along with prawns and even shark on other nights. We bought the shark while walking along the beach, intentionally in denial of the fact that the very location where we were swimming was obviously where it had come from… A couple of Mozambiquean teenage boys offered to skin the shark for us, and I can safely put that meal on my ‘top ten most delicious meals ever’ list. 

Most vacations I have gone on in the past two years have not been ones that have championed rest and relaxation. From sandboarding in Namibia to snorkeling in Zanzibar, I have tried to take advantage of the all the adventures that sub-saharan Africa has to offer. Mozambique was beautifully different. You couldn’t help but just chill out and soak in the beauty all around you. I went on long walks on the beach, swam in the crazy ocean surf, read my book in the sand, and most nights my friends and I stayed up late into the night, looking up at the stars and out at the endless abyss of the ocean, having conversations you can only ever really have over a campfire; on the beach; in the middle of nowhere.

Reluctantly remembering we are 25 years old and have a duty to get crazy on New Years Eve, we said goodbye to our perfect little haven in Xhai-Xhai and hitch-hiked to Tofo. If Xhai-Xhai is the epitomy of r&r, Tofo is party central, serving as a popular New Years Eve destination for both Mozambiqueans and South Africans. We found ourselves in a tent city in the sand at a backpackers on the beach. It felt a bit like Woodstock Tofo-style. I say this with the realization that I am making a gross generalization…but stereotypes exist for a reason…and white South Africans are small-doses people for me. I actually can’t really stand them. They remind me of the epitomy of racist, southern, conservative ignorance, and they were inescapable in Tofo. I won’t go off on a tangent, but I will say that I fear for the future of South Africa whenever I meet white South Africans in my travels. Again, I know I am generalizing here, but if I never meet another Afrikaner…I’m ok with it. However, I did witness something on the beach in Tofo that gave me hope for humanity. There were two Mozambiquean boys, probably about 8-10 years old, making jewelery on the beach to sell to tourists. I was resting in the shade about 10 yards from where they were working. There was a white South African boy of about the same age sitting with them. He was learning how to make the jewelery, and would run off with one of the boys to the beach whenever they saw potential buyers. I overheard one of the Mozambiquean boys give a bracelet as a gift to the South African boy. For the next two days these three boys were inseparable, playing together around the beach and in town. Racial differences seemed not to exist, and economic, social, and cultural lines were blurred. In a place where one is constantly reminded of their skin color, I found hope for the future of Africa in these children; blame it on the part of me that, through all my frustrations, still knows a solution exists in this crazy world when it comes to hate and discrimination.

New Years Eve Day some of us decided to snorkel with whale sharks. They are the largest fish in the sea; incredibly graceful, beautiful creatures. And we were able to swim right alongside one of them! Of course I had to talk myself out of a freak-out the entire two hours…oceans and sharks are two of my biggest fears. Sharks are actually way out of my league…I’m afraid even of fish. But I can now add it to my list of things that were fun to do exactly ONCE.  There was a live reggae band performing on the beach as a full blue moon rose over the ocean on New Years Eve. I’ll never forget what it felt like to welcome a new decade (and the year I get to come home!) in such a beautiful setting. I’m a lucky girl.

Transport from Tofo back to Johannesberg was anticlimactic, just the way I like it. We had one more day at the mall there, and I flew out of that magical airport knowing that the next time I will be there will be en route to Americaland! As I’ve said before, the familiarity of returning to Zambia always makes me feel as if I’m returning home. But I can’t deny that I’m excited for the day when my home makes sense to me.

Speaking of which, it looks like I’ll complete my Peace Corps service at the end of April. The new country director in Zambia seems to be blanketly denying all applications for an early close-of-service. I applied to leave one month early due to finishing work early in the village. Oh well, what’s one more month when I’ll have been here for 25 already? I’ll see all the people I came to Zambia with next week at our close-of-service conference in Lusaka, where we should receive our final ring-out dates so we can book our flights home. And when I say ‘ring out’ I mean it literally. Before we leave the Peace Corps office in Lusaka for the last time, we hit a metal tire rim with a stick, symbolizing the official end of our service. This is of course accompanied by nostalgiac and uplifting speeches, hugs, and sometimes tears. I promise to shout it on the mountaintops once I know the date I get to partake in this ritual.

I hope everyone enjoyed a warm and cozy holiday season, wherever you may have celebrated. I heard there was a lot of snow, and still is! Take care, and much love from Zambia.

~Happy 2010~

.peace.

katie

Happy Holidays! I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…but waking up to rain and mosquitoes…and white sand beaches I guess? I’ll be celebrating the birth of Jesus in Mozambique this year. Home is where I really want to be, with snow and decorative pine trees. But I can’t complain. I’ll be traveling with 6 friends to the beautiful Mozambiquan coast of the Indian Ocean. Mozambique was colonized by the Portugese, and we are all looking forward to delicious food and lovely architecture. There is supposed to be a full blue moon on New Years Eve, which promises to be unforgettable in and of itself. We’ve decided to fly by the seat of our pants even more-so on this vacation than others. As it turns out, booking anything ahead of time in Mozambique is next to impossible and actually an incredibly shady process. It fits nicely with the whole ‘lack of forward thought’ theme of my life in Africa. We are planning to show up with tents and just kick it on the beach. I only pray that I’ll remember the reasoning behind these laid-back plans when they begin to play out… Myself and 5 other Peace Corps volunteers living in Mpika district put on Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) last week. I would like to begin with a few overarching themes (or maybe more appropriately, lessons learned) for the week: 1) Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. (Why does this continue to surprise me?) Actually, I think that one theme suffices. Pretty much the entire week was in reaction to this theme. What can you do when you are fully aware of the prevalence of Murphy’s law in your life? Just a few examples: **Absolutely nothing was prepared when we arrived at the recreation center. There weren’t enough mattresses, sheets, blankets, and absolutely no sense of organization on the part of the manager of the place we were paying to rent.The center was ‘creepy guy’ central. Men with nothing better to do were just hanging around the recreation center we rented out the whole week. On that note, apparently renting out a center only means renting out two rooms. Everyone else in the center can feel free to blast music and talk really loud. And poke their heads into your space every 5 minutes, ignoring all signs to keep quiet and not enter. The water couldn’t be turned off. Faucets were leaking and bathrooms were flooding. Of course 2 days of absolutely no water were interspersed throughout the week. **The teachers who came with the students (1 teacher and 2 students from 5 different villages) demanded allowances for being there; allowances on top of the transport, rooming, and meals that we provided for them. One student also expected to be paid to attend the camp. 1 teacher and 1 student decided to leave the first day due to the fact that we weren’t paying them to be there, even though it was clearly stated in a letter drafted to them weeks before the camp began. When the teachers began to demand money, we met with all of them and gave it to them straight; They weren’t going to be paid to attend the camp. The camp centers around equipping teenage girls with the skills and confidence necessary to overcome the many obstacles they face growing up in a patriarchal society. If the teachers weren’t willing to stay and be involved in the empowerment of these girls, we would pay them the transport money to leave right now. But if they chose to stay, they would have to be involved and show that they care. Most chose to stay because they lived so far away, not because they recognized the need to empower young women in their village. I find it difficult to think of a time in my life when I have met a more entitled group of people. The 4 teachers that chose to stay continued to cause problems for the next 5 days. **We had one session on condom use, and sat down with the teachers before the session to address any issues they may have with teaching abstinence, condom use, and birth control. Zambia considers itself a ‘christian nation’ and churches and schools preach abstinence only. However, when most women are becoming pregnant when they are 15 years old, clearly people are engaging in sex outside of marriage. The World Health Organization has done studies that show that when young women are taught about birth control through abstinence as well as the use of contraceptives, they are more likely to choose abstinence for themselves more often than if they are taught abstinence only. It was not the intention of Camp GLOW to morally judge these girls for choices they make when it comes to their bodies, but to make every option available to them and allow them to make their own decisions. Although the teachers agreed with our intentions prior to the session, during the session they told the girls that sex outside of marriage is sinful, that they should read certain Bible verses, and basically that they were terrible people if they didn’t abstain from sex. They even told the girls that using birth control at a young age can cause you to have problems conceiving later in life. We found ourselves openly arguing with the teachers during the session. So what do you do when everything goes wrong? Do you freak out and throw in the towel? Not here. Or you wouldn't last very long. When you live in Zambia, you cling so strongly to the smallest things that go right until you are white in the knuckles. First of all, our caterer was amazing. We had delicious meals prepared for us every day, and for the most part they were ready within an hour of when they were supposed to be, which in Zambia means they were on time. Most importantly, the 9 girls that stayed for the week were unbelievable. It was great to see Zambian teenage girls be able to be teenage girls around each other. They bonded throughout the week and really opened up to and accepted one another. They were so much fun to be around, and were always smiling. We had some pretty unforgettable dance parties. There were 2 18-year old girls we had attend the camp as counselor-types. They slept in the same room as the younger girls and got to know them on a more personal level. They facilitated a session on rape and sexual abuse with the girls (sans Peace Corps volunteers and teachers) toward the end of the week. Following the session, all the girls wanted to go to VCT (voluntary counseling and testing) for HIV at the local clinic.

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

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

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

Best wishes in the new year!

Love from Zambia.

katie

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

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

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

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

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

.peace&luv.

happy turkey day!!

katie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.luv from tanzania.

katie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hope all is well in Americaland!

.peace&hair grease.

katie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some random noteables:

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

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

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

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

katie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.peace&luv.

katie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stay well.

.Peace&Luv.

Katie

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

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

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

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

.peace&luv.

katie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

13) Your menstrual cycle coincides with the moon cycles.

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

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

on a related note...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

katie

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

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

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

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

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

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

.peace.

katie

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

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

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

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

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

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

Katie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Katie

p.s. YAY obama!

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

I am a sweaty mess more and more often these days. The African sun feels like it's burning me from the inside out most of the time, and the fact that my malaria prophylaxis makes me more sensitive to the sun doesn't help. However, I just got back from a trip to Luapula province with some friends. We camped at Lake Bengweulu and Ntumbacushi falls, meeting up with some other volunteers in that province and enjoying being by water in this hot hot heat. We camped right on the beach in Samfya for 2 nights, then spent a night at the Peace Corps house in Mansa (and 4 hours doing karaoke :) ), then camped 2 nights at some amazing waterfalls up north. I've realized that Zambia is a country full of hidden treasures. Most of Zambia's tourism (not a very booming industry here) comes from its game parks and safaris, with most foreigners flying their private jets or driving in land cruisers straight to the parks while pretty much ignoring the rest of the country. Living here in Zambia has given me the opportunity to travel around this country and explore the undiscovered and untouched beauty here, albeit mostly on unsafe, uncomfortable, and ridiculously slow transport. Waterfalls in the middle of nowhere, marshy, green fields that seem to stretch on forever speckled with the silhouette of mango trees, rocky 'mountains' carved by fast-flowing rivers where hippos bathe. Once you arrive, the natural beauty is immediately worth the painful hitch in the back of a truck for 16 hours with 20 other Zambians, 2 of which are probably sitting on your lap. We got up at 5 a.m. a few days ago to try a 'shortcut' road from Mansa to Kasama. We arrived in Kasama around 10 p.m. on the same day caked in at least 3 layers of dirt and sweat, even after having been pelted with rain for about an hour. Almost the entire road was dirt, and at one point we were being passed by bikers. The truck we were in was carrying petrol, providing the fresh scent of gasoline to our luxurious hitch. In Luwingu, about 180km north of Kasama, we switched trucks and proceeded the rest of the way in a pickup that broke down about every 30km. 9 months ago I probably would have been more stressed out after such an experience with transport, but the 5 of us arrived late at night in kasama with weary smiles on our faces, able to chalk it all up experience. :) At least we know now never to try that specific 'shortcut' again.

I am looking forward to pulling an all-nighter and watching the U.S. elections in mpika on Tuesday. The Zambian presidential elections just occurred a few days ago here in Mpika, along with numerous charges of corruption against the victorious candidate. The candidate that lost is from mpika so I'm hoping there are no negative repercussions(sp?) in my area. If rioting or conflict occurs it will most likely take place in Lusaka, but hopefully the country remains peaceful.

The rains have started over here, but have mostly been in the late afternoon or at night. The rainy season will last for about 5 months, but I'm looking forward to the landscape becoming a lot more green and lush. Everything has been so dry with all the burning. I'm not looking forward, however, to how the rains will affect my work in the village. In October I scheduled meetings with my NHCs and only one was 'successful' (and by successful I mean at least half of the NHC showed up). Its incredibly frustrating to ride your bike for an hour or more in blistering heat just to find that one or two people have showed up to your meeting. Where can you go from there? If people won't even show up to meetings, won't even take the first step to work with you, what can you do? I'll be the most effective volunteer in my village if I work with those who want to work with me. I've established good relationships with a handful of community leaders so they are the ones of I will work with the most. I'm here to capacity-build and work with community members, not to be a cheerleader. Once I realized that working with those who are already motivated to improve health in their community and trying to get them to work with those who are unmotivated can keep me from going insane with frustration, I became better able to plan what I can realistically hope to accomplish in the next year and a half. I also hope to work more closely with the district health office in the future and attempt to initiate some improvements in their approach to rural health development. For example, all of the healthcare education material given to rural communities in Zambia is written in English. Yes, it's the official language of Zambia, but maybe 2% of villagers in my area can speak, read, or comprehend it. The information should be presented in Bemba until the ministry of education can effectively educate Zambians in their official language. The implementation of policy in the health and education sectors of the Zambian government is a mess, and I'm quickly realizing that every sector affects the other, and their improvement depends on cooperation between all sectors (health, education, agriculture, etc.) I have become so interested in public policy while I've been here, and have found myself wanting to learn more about why these policies were developed in the first place and what is preventing them from being implemented.

Well, it's about time to wrap up this post. I've been missing America a lot lately, especially as the holiday season approaches, but I did dress up as Jazzercize barbie for halloweeen, all the volunteers in northern province are planning to cook a big thanksgiving feast together (turkey and all!), and I am booking tickets to wine country for christmas and cape town for new years...all things that take my mind off of being so far away from family and friends. I also have made such great friends here, and I don't know what I would do without them in this country. I love my village and am definitely having the experience of a lifetime, yet all while realizing how lucky I am to have the best family and friends a girl could ask for back home. I just gotta keep on keepin' on. Sending you all my love from Zamland!

Katie

I'm still here in Mpika trying to get some work done today in town and meet with an NGO this afternoon. I had a great birthday weekend with some other volunteers! On saturday we went to some waterfalls near mpika, swam in the nice cold water, and just hung out. On the downside, we found out that Kathy has decided to return home to the states. Luckily we were able to spend a great last weekend with her. She took the bus down to Lusaka last night and will be flying back to California in a few days. She is the third volunteer who has left Mpika in the span of a month, and when other volunteers are 99% of your support while living out in the bush it's really difficult to see them leave. As I mentioned before, there were certain safety and security issues that forced Becky and Hannah to leave, all stemming from one Zambian who lives in Mpika. What makes the situation even more frustrating is that one person can affect the services of 3 volunteers all in the same area. It makes me sick. It would be just me, Danielle, and Jeanna left in Mpika, but 2 new volunteers just got posted in the district and they seem pretty cool. Katy is another volunteer who will be finishing her service in about a month. I wish Kathy the best as she returns to Americaland, and I'm so grateful for having gotten the chance to know her. She is an amazing person and an invaluable volunteer. She will be greatly missed.

It's really been crazy the ups and downs I have gone through here. One week I'll be feeling great about life here, feel like I'm making headway with my project work, and will feel like I'm assimilating to the culture as best as I can. The next week I will be asking myself what the hell I'm still doing here, feel discouraged about work, and the culture makes me want to pull out my hair (which has been consistently falling out since I got here.) If I was truly out on my own in the bush for 2 years with very minimal contact with other Peace Corps volunteers I honestly don't know if I could make it here for 2 years. It is so hard to be living in a place where you will never fit in. People will always point at you and call you musungu, will always think that you have limitless amounts of money, and will always laugh at you no matter what you do. Of course I have learned to brush off most of it, but it's impossible not to let it affect you. You have to be true to yourself in order to survive here, and that includes being honest with yourself and knowing when you need to be around people who are feeling what you are feeling and who aren't from Zambia. Don't get me wrong, I have grown to love this country and the people of Zambia, but the fact remains that I will always be an outsider no matter what I do. I can still build strong relationships and make great connections with people, but due to the history of colonization and subsequent 'development' in Zambia I will always be viewed in a certain way here, and ultimately it is not the fault of Zambians. And I have to stay true to who I am no matter what circumstance I find myself in. For example, when I first got here I planned to attend many different church services just to get a feel for what religious experience is here in Zambia, but lately have felt that my attending services here is in a way supporting the christianization of this country, and I do not support the brainwashing it has affectively accomplished.

When I first came to Zambia I almost expected to develop a sense of negativity toward America. Yet after being here for 8 months I have found myself feeling the opposite. I really miss living in the U.S. and feel incredibly fortunate to be an American. America, of course, has it's problems, but I would not want be a female growing up anywhere else. I also miss the diversity of America. Some Zambians told me they thought that if they went to America they would be pointed at by white people and called, "black person" (much like they do to foreigners in Zambia), and I explained to them the diversity of America and that it just wouldn't happen. They seem completely baffled by the idea of black americans. I try to explain to them the civil rights movement as well as the emancipation of women in america. They mostly just look at me with blank stares, as if they have never heard of such things, and some of them are educated Zambians! They tell me they would like to have an American wife and I tell them they don't want an American wife because any self-respecting American woman will not cook and clean for you with your children on her back in the hot sun while you sit in the shade under a tree and get drunk. She will also not justify your beatings of her, and won't believe she deserves them because of your interpretation of the Bible. As I have written before, Zambia would change for the better if only the women here realized the power they hold and that the country would fall apart if they were to stop working for one day. I am incredibly grateful for having the opportunity to live in Zambia for 2 years and learn everything that I am learning here, but I think I will be ready to go home in a year and a half to values that I believe in, and to the respect of values different from one's own.

I do love this country though, despite my frustrations, and I am finding that some of the things that frustrate me most are also some of the reasons I choose to stay. My life is one crazy story after another, but I have learned to take one day at a time. And I've also learned that everything has a way of working out. You just have to be patient.

Miss you all! All my luv from Zamland.

Katie

Muli shani! I just got into Mpika this morning from Katibunga, Danielle's site. She is my "closest' Peace Corps Neighbor, and I spent my birthday biking about 80k to her place, then today we biked another 45k into town. Have I mentioned that her and I went to the same middle school and used to play soccer together? small, small world. :) I got to her place in the evening and we made velveeta shells and cheese (sent from America) for dinner, and apple strudel that she made for dessert. I would have to rank it up there on one of the best bday dinners ever. :) It's been a busy couple weeks back in the village. The heat has been brutal, but mud huts are an engineering feat! They actually stay pretty cool during the day...no need for an air conditioner here in Africa. Last week one of my friends in the village stopped by and said he was going to see some elephants in a couple days, so I asked if I could tag along. Last Friday we started off in the morning and biked about 4 hours through the bush to Chilanga Scout Camp. I'll write more about my experience there in another post, but they people living at the camp were extremely hospitable. They made my friend and I lunch, then 2 scouts, sporting huge (tranquilizer?) guns and heavy duty boots and camo gear led us into the thick bush, along the Lufila river. About an hour into the hike, we came upon hippos playing in the water. We were so close to them, and they were HUGE. They just looked right at us, then kept playing in the water. Apparently hippos are very territorial and will run after you, slash your achilles with their tusks, then stomp you to death if they feel threatened...good thing we had the scouts with us. We didn't see any elephants that day, but I'm sure I'll have the chance to see them again. I was more than satisfied with just seeing the hippos! By the time we hiked back to the scout camp it was too late to bike home, so the village made us dinner and set up a little bed in the camp office for me to sleep in. I was overwhelmed by their hospitality and extremely grateful for a bed to sleep on. :) Oh, and upon our return from seeing the hippos the scouts told me the village was ready to hear my speech...speech? what speech? I just came here to see hippos! I ended up giving a health talk that turned into a Q and A on hiv/aids. It was an experience I'll never forget. I don't have much time now to right about it, so hopefully in my next posting I can go into more detail.

So other events from the past couple weeks...my bathing shelter burned down. They are lighting all the bush in the country on fire right now and the fires themselves escalate pretty quickly. I went to bed thinking the fire in my yard had receded to the river, but came outside about an hour later and my bathing shelter was in flames. Of course my soap, shampoo, razors, basin, and some laundry I had done earlier that day were all inside. I can handle not having the bathing shelter for the SCORCHING month of october because I can just bathe in the river...who knows, maybe I'll just have to bathe down there for the rest of my service...When my neighbors came over that night to begin the burning, I thought to myself, what better time to make s'mores! I had bought the supplies in Kasama and was going to introduce the delicious treats to my neighbors sometime soon anyway, so I told all the kids to find a stick and we roasted marshmallows while my yard was on fire. They seemed baffled by the whole concept, but I think they liked the s'mores. They are kids, it's sugar, enough said. :)

Someone stole all the nuts and screws that attach my front wheel to my bike, so I was riding it around praying I wouldn't be doing a nosedive. Luckily a friend came and got it one day and said he would be back in the afternoon. Later that day, he brought it back almost completely fixed. Of course I can't find tomatoes or toilet paper in my village, but spare bike parts they have. Add it to the list of things here that don't make any sense. I'm starting to compile a list of things that I have yet to understand here in Zambia. For example, Zambians are the most patient people on earth but can't stand in a line to save their lives. Everyone budges! Just this morning at a restaurant about 5 people in a row reached handfuls of money over my head and shouted out what they wanted as the workers completely ignored me and served them first. Also, the pace of life here is pretty slow and everything takes an extremely long time from transport to meetings. However, people drive crazy fast down streets in their cars honking like crazy as if they have a million places to go and a million things to do. As a pedestrian, you are at the bottom of the food chain. Not only do you need to dodge cars, but bikes can creep up on you too. Most of the frustrations I had in my first few months here I am now able to laugh off. Maybe the fact that so many things don't make sense here and life is kind of a gong show is one reason why I also love Zambia.

I will try to write more soon. I am camping at the waterfalls in Mpika this weekend with some friends and will be staying in town probably until Tuesday to get some work done. I miss home and everyone, and I hope all is well back in the states. All I hear about on the BBC lately is how horrible the economy is over there right now. There's more talk about that than the election! I hope things get better soon. Stay well, much luv from Zambia.

Katie

We all packed up and left Nkhata Bay at 6 a.m. Monday morning, September 1st. I got back to my village Friday evening, September 5th. That's African transport for you in a nutshell. :)

Following a week of in-service traning in Lusaka, a group of us headed east to Lake Malawi. We all split up and basically said, 'meet ya there!'. It felt a little like rat race at times when we would see eachother on the road, knowing that the few you just passed on the side of the road had every chance of passing you up later in the day. But the Gods of hitch-hiking were smiling on Kai, Davy, and me because we ended up getting a sweet ride with a couple German World Bank guys who drove us all the way from a big bridge in the eastern province of Zambia to Lilongwe, the capital city of Malawi. They had stayed in a Holiday Inn in the Lusaka the night before and even offered us pastries they had taken from the continental breakfast earlier that morning when we all stopped for a lunch break on the side of the road. They helped us to swiftly cross the border and dropped us off right outside the Lilongwe Peace Corps house before dark. And the best part is they wouldn't accept any money so we literally traveled halfway across Zambia and into Malawi for FREE. Another part of our group showed up in Lilongwe later that night and although they looked a little more frazzled from travel and had spent more money they definitely had some crazy stories from the day.

We got to know some Malawian Peace Corps volunteers who were also staying at the PC house in Lilongwe, and they seemed pretty friendly. They helped us out a lot with how to get from Lilongwe to Nkhata Bay and also told us approximate costs since we all know there would be some minibus price inflation for the 'musungus'. Malawi is a poorer country than Zambia and everything there is incredibly cheap. Traveling to Malawi for vacation is popular among Zambian PCVs for that reason. However, even though the Malawian PCVs can pretty much go to the lake whenever they want, they don't receive as high of a living allowance as we do so it's a lot more expensive for them to travel to Zambia than it is for us to travel to Malawi. Also, visas into Malawi are free while a visa into Zambia costs about $150.

The 7 of us set out early the next morning for the lake, hopping from minibus to minibus along the way. At our last minibus station before reaching our final destination, we loaded our final van carlsberg in hand to celebrate the last stretch of 2 loooong days of travel and our first time out of the country in 6 months.

Nkhata Bay is nestled into rolling, rocky foothills on the northern edge of Lake Malawi. The water is a mediterranean blue that fools you into thinking its an ocean. The faintest hint of a boundary is in the faded outline of the mountains of Tanzania and Mozambique in the distance on a clear day. Most days, however, the lake and sky blur out the horizon line and the dug-out canoes become distant specks suspended mid-air.

Our group of 12 stayed in a beach house right on the lake, complete with a big deck overlooking the water ideal for both sun-bathing and star-gazing. Actually, a few of us only slept in our rooms for one night. Every other night we pulled our mattresses out onto the deck and fell asleep under the stars. Seeing the lights of the canoes full of fishermen at night light up the lake made braving the gnats and mosquitoes worth it. I didn't even mind being woken up every morning around 4 to the singing and chattering Malawian fishermen hauling in their boats full of that night's catch.

Nkhata bay is intriguing in that the lodges for travellers are dotted throughout the bay among the homes of the villagers. A backpacker is likely to feel that they are experiencing the "true Malawi" in a sense, and the villagers are able to benefit directly from tourism. Yet after living for 6 months in a village I was struck by the difference between this Malawian village on a hill and my village in a remote Northern corner of Zambia. The rural community of which I have become a part in Lufila has remained virtually untouched by the tourist industry and direct foreign contact in general. I am a novelty as I stroll down the main street (or dirt road if you want to be technical) because I am probably one of the first if not the first white person who has ventured to their community, let alone living there as they do for 2 years. Although tourism has helped the indigenous community in Nkhata Bay to flourish, I found myself feeling eager to get back 'home' to my village, to Africans who remain untainted by tourism. Malawians in Nkhata Bay are very friendly, but you can tell they are used to 'pleasing' foreigners, always knowing the right jokes to tell or what to say to make the sale. I missed the genuine friendliness of Zambians; the pure eagerness to get to know you as well as teach you their culture. Their smile hasn't fallen on backpackers from around the world, but instead, teeth or no teeth, illustrates a simple happiness to greet you. And if you greet them in their tribal language? Then it's as if you just handed them a million kwacha. :)

So as I wrote before, I was planning to get SCUBA certified in Malawi, and to my own surprise I actually went through with it. If I had known how tough it was actually going to be I might not have shown up for class Monday morning. I started to conquer one fear while another was magnified. Turns out breathing from a tank underwater goes against all intuition; remembering to relax, breathe slowly, and not freak out is the hardest part of scuba diving. I was that girl who made the instructors check her respirator themselves before diving and who literally cut off the cirulation in the instructors hand while going through a semi panic attack on the floor of Lake Malawi. My fear of deep water and enclosed spaces collided and the first dives we did were 2 of the most unenjoyable experiences I've ever had. I was ready to throw in the towel after day 2 but my extreme stubborness came to the rescue and by the fifth dive on the last day I was loving seeing all the beautiful fishies and was learning to trick my mind into not thinking about the fact that my only source of air was a tank strapped to my back. My fear of fish began to fade, as they were a welcome distraction to thinking too hard about my breathing. As for our group, 8 hours of class and diving a day paid off when we all passed and receieved our certifications on day 4. Although our grace underwater could use some work (lots of whacking eachother in the head with flippers) we all stuck it out and are already planning to dive in places like Mozambique and Zanzibar. Throughout the week, our instructors kept tabs on what they referred to as 'beer points'. If someone forgot to lay their tank down on its side before walking away from it, and one of them noticed, that person earned 1 beer point and at the end of the week had to buy everyone a round of beer. Does it surprise you that yours truly paid for drinks on the last day after class? :) Although we were pumped about getting certified, the 5 of us were ready to spend our remaining 3 days in Malawi soaking up the sun with our already lobster-red friends. On Saturday we all rented a boat. We got to feed some Fish Eagles and do some cliff-jumping before heading to a sandy inlet where we snorkeled a little bit and tried our hand at paddling a dug-out wooden canoe. Needless to say it's way harder than it looks and we all looked absolutely ridiculous. After enjoying a home-cooked lunch on the beach we headed back to our house to get ready for the Nkhata Bay night life. We were a pretty big group and definitely brought the party wherever we went. The owner of a neighboring lodge told me the craziest people he's had stay at his lodge have been Peace Corps Zambia volunteers. Makes sense I guess....Zambia is one of the only remaining Peace Corps countries that is truly rural, and we tend to take advantage of our time out of the bush-bush. Even most Malawi PCVs have electricity and running water. Not a single Zam volunteer has either. Long story short, the 12 of us left Malawi early Monday morning looking and feeling pretty worse for the wear. Luckily we had a couple days to 'sleep' on transport. We departed in our minibus alrady planning to make it back sometime during the remainder of our service. It was a wonderful vacation in a breathtakingly beautiful part of Africa, but we were ready to get back home to village life and 10 hours of sleep a night. :)

Due to some safety and security issues in my district, my really good friend Becky had to leave Mpika and move to Luapula Province on Thursday. Danielle, Jeanna, and I helped her pack. It was a really sad day to see her go. She has been a huge support for me, especially during my struggles in the very beginning. And she's my fellow minnesota soccer girl. :) I am hopping to visit her at ther new site in Mansa district in a few weeks. Hannah, an amazing volunteer in Mpika who had been here for about a year and a half was forced to end her service and move back to America for the same security reasons. We will miss her tons but I hope everything works out for her back in the land where everything works...

So it's back to village life for me. I missed it. Becky brought me back some starbucks coffee grounds from America (she recently went back for a wedding in MN), and I spend a good 5 minutes every morning just inhaling the aroma of the grounds. :) Plus my mom sent me about a 2-year supply of peanut m&m's so I'm in heaven. I can officially start working now, so I'm gong to be busy working with the neighborhood health committees (and forming or reforming them in most cases) as well as continuing to work with community leaders. The in-charge/midwife at the clinic is my counterpart/colleague so I discuss most of what I plan to do with him. He is extremely knowledgeable about health care in Zambia and a big soccer fan so I enjoy stopping by the clinic to talk with him. While basically running the clinic by himself, he manages also to study for further courses he is taking in Kasama. He always watches out for me, too, and if I have any problems in my village, such as thievery, he is the first person I go to. One frustration I am beginning to have is that no one can give me a straight answer as to the activity ( or inactivity for that matter) of my neighborhood health committees. Ba Chikwaba, my counterparrt, tells me none have more than 4-5 members, but the chairperson of each committee tells me they have 15 members (the ideal number). hmmm.... So I wrote bush notes to each chairperson and even hand-delivered some by bike letting them know I'd like to meet with their NHC's as soon as possible. At this point I am waiting to hear back from them. Hopefully by next month I'll have had a chance to meet with all 7 NHCs and assess whether they need to hold community meetings to elect more/new members. I feel a little rushed to get the ball rolling with them as soon as possible because rainy season is fast approaching and the pace of life slows down even more come November.

At this point I should probably explain a little more clearly my job and role as a CAHP project volunteer in Lufila. I think I tried to explain it a few months ago but it has even become more clearly definied for me since I arrived in Zambia 7 months ago. Here's a metaphor: pricture me as the hand holding the back of the bike seat and the NHCs are learning to ride the bike. I teach and support them, even giving them a little motivational push until ultimately they are on their own. My job is all about education and empowerment of the NHCs. Their role is to address the healthcare needs of their respective villages and my role is to build their capacity to do so. In the Zambian Ministry of Health structure, the ministry itself is in charge of 9 provinces. Those 9 provincial health offices oversee 72 district health offices. Within each district there are about 25 rural health centers (or gov't. clinics), each of which serves a catchment area that ideally contains 3-20 active neighborhood health committees. Decentralization of health care in Zambia aims to allow this hierarchy to work from the ground up, with NHCs communicating needs and issues as well as reporting on healthcare activity to their RHC (rural health center), who then reports to the district, and on and on up the ladder. In a perfect Zambian world this system would empower villagers in rural areas to work within their communities to address health issues...but of course the system is flawed. Frustrations occur during frequent breakdowns in communication and many NHC members are left understandably feeling powerless and insignificant. Their membership on the NHC is completely voluntary yet still a status symbol within their community. Some members are extremely motivated to address the needs of their community while others view membership as a sort of popularity contest. As I stated before, I am currently experiencing some frustrations with the NHCs in my clinic's catchment area because the committees were supposed to be formed 5 years ago and they have gone through quite a bit of training, yet not all members are active and many NHC communities have not been sensitized to the role of the NHC. A training is useless unless there are enough NHC members to implement the skills they learned in the training in their communities. I am ultimately supposed to train the NHCs in the 6 major health thrusts in Zambia and consistently do follow-up trainings on project design and management, action planning, and budget-making, etc. I am supposed to constantly monitor and evaluate their progress throughout the next 2 years. Yet I am starting to believe that social mobilization, forming the foundation of the NHC, is still a work-in-progress in my area. Although the NHCs were apparently formed 5 years ago, I feel as if I'm starting from scratch. Its ok though, because as a first generation volunteer in my village my main focus is to build a solid foundation with my NHCs on which the 2 generations of volunteers that will follow me can build. Building the full capacity of the NHCs is a 6-year process, according to Peace Corps and the ministry of health in Zambia, and rushing my NHCs now will only hurt them in the end. So I am trying to build good relationships with them as well as other community leaders so that my 2-year service here is not full of frustrations and so that life is a little easier for the 2 volunteers who will live here after I leave. In America, we become so used to always seeing tangible results. You put a lot of work into something fully expecting a result that is both measurable and reflective of the hard work you put into it. I believe the main objective of Peace Corps as an organization, although they may not come right out and say it, is not so much direct, tangible development as it is the building of solid relationships, 'keeping the peace' if you will. Education, whether it be in health, agriculture, or the rural school system, forms the cornerstone of Peace Corps grassroots development aims in Zambia, but you can only educate sustainably if you form good relationships with those in your community. Not only America but other first-world countries tend to exploit the third world and although aid intentions aren't necessarily malicious, the desire to force our way of doing things on those of a poorer and more vulnerable country essentially is, in effect. Peace Corps is by no means a perfect organization. It's disorganized and lacks accountability in many areas, but I respect it in that it doesn't place tangible development on a pedestal as many NGOs and other foreign aid agencies seem to do. Actually Peace Corps discourages its volunteers from constructing building or using large sums of donation money to fund rural projects. As cliche as it sounds, Peace Corps is working in developing countries like Zambia to build relationships, not monuments. They are much more interested in teaching a group of community leaders in the bush how to write a proposal to fund something like the construction of a well than a Peace Corps volunteer moving into the village and building the well themselves. Although the constant focus on sustainability can be both frustrating and exhausting, it has forced me to rethink my views on foreign AID to Africa. There is a constant dialogue among PC volunteers regarding the answer to development and the correct way to go about it. And the truth is no one knows the answer. But I have to believe that if living in the heart of an African village for 2 years gets me no closer to an answer to development here, then at least I will have come closer to understanding the hearts of Africans themselves. And despite constant diarrhea, contracting malaria, hitching rides in the back of tomato trucks, or riding my bike 30k just to buy eggs that have mostly cracked by the time I bike home, it's still a desire to understand Zambia and the people here, as well as to begin to formulate my own answer to devlopment that gets me out of bed every morning. That and the African sky. :) .much luv.

-katie

"the movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside. For them the earth is not exploitable ground but the living mother."

"the criterion is how you treat the weak. The measure of civilized behavior is compassion."

I'm in Lusaka and feeling over-stimulated. It's funny that when we first flew into Lusaka I wasn't very impressed by the city itself and couldn't wait to get out to the more rural areas, but right now I am LOVING lusaka. :) Good food, toilets, hot showers...doesn't take much these days...Our entire intake of about 50 volunteers arrived here a few days ago for about a week of in-service training. Us Northerners lucked out with a pretty sweet ride from Mpika. We hitched from the police post (genious idea by Jeanna!) and got almost an entire bus transporting soap to ourselves! They did NOT want to take us at first but were easily persuaded by the lady with the gun who didn't smile much (gotta luv zambia!). I have actually lucked out lately with transport (and have probably just jinxed myself), because I caught a ride from my village turnoff with some canadian and british families who were on their way back from vacation up north. I started off around 6 a.m. from my hut and made it to the tarmac by around 9, where I saw a bunch of white people with about 5 cruisers. I left my bike at a shop, walked over to them and asked for a lift. They looked completely confused because I literally just popped right out of the bush. But they were very friendly (not always the case with white people driving in Zambia...you are much more likely to catch a lift from a Zambian). I was having flashbacks from childhood family road trips as I got into the backseat full of empty boxes of snacks, word puzzle games, and squabbling children. What I found most surprising was that the car actually smelled "good" and I was probably the stinkiest one there, and the kids weren't staring at me and calling me 'muzungu'! It made me miss home a lot. :(

So our intake pretty much all met up in Lusaka on Sunday, shopping and eating before heading to NRDC (where training was taking place). Everyone looked pretty much the same except tanner and a little more frazzled-looking, and as always the girls have mostly all gained a couple pounds and the guys are melting. It has been great to catch up with people and find out how village life is for everyone. Most everyone seems to be doing great, and people have definitely become happier and more relaxed since training.

A bunch of us are headed to malawi on saturday and I am so pumped! We are staying for about a week and it's starting to get pretty hot so a beach will be nice. I'm planning on getting certified in SCUBA with some other people, but the only thing holding me back is my 2 biggest fears of deep water and fish...but hey it's all about conquering fears, yeah? :) We'll see if I got through with it.

It's also been nice to talk to the Peace Corps medical doctors here. I am seeing a doctor in Lusaka for some stomach issues tomorrow morning so hopefully my troubles there can get cleared up. The PCMO also told me I need to move out of my hut because I have too many bees....but I'm hoping she's just being a little on the dramatic side. I don't think she realizes that it's been 4 months and my village still hasn't dug my rubbish pit....so them building me another house is most likely out of the question. Plus I love my hut and location. I think I'll just try to get the villagers to knock the hive down...maybe they can do beekeeping...haha now I'm thinking like a peace corps volunteer. :)

Speaking of village life, I just found out that my (former) cat was attacked by a hawk and died! 2 months ago after I gave my neighbors my jerk kitten they told me she had run into the bush...but turns out they didn't want to break my heart and tell me the truth...little do they know I am NOT a cat person.

Sorry this post has been kind of random and scattered...seems my life is kind of that way here in Zambia. Being at this training has given me more ideas for my village and I am excited to get back to the bush after Malawi. I've been thinking about helping my village form an HIV/AIDS support group, and I'd also love for them to form a women's group. I also want to teach some English, and a bigger, more long-term project I have in mind is the construction of a library....these are all still little just thoughts at this point but when I sat down to write an action plan for myself it made the next two years actually seem like not enough time. Time is crazy here though, because the weeks and months seem to fall off the calendar while the days can sometimes be agonizingly long.

I will try to write again when I pass through Lusaka after Malawi. All my love from Lusaka!

Katie

I'm in Kasama for the weekend so that I can get an extension on my visa and not get deported, but loving the good food and movie-watching on the side at the house. ;) I had some crazy truly cultural experiences in my village the last couple weeks that I know I could never do justice to on this blog but I'll try anyway.

I went to church for the first time in my village. My neighbors are 7th day adventist so they go to church all day on saturdays. I didn't have much going on so I decided to join them a couple weeks ago. Like I've mentioned before, the singing here in Africa is beautiful. Not only do I hear it emenating at night sometimes from the village when the moon is bright and the kids stay out late, but people break into song at random and harmonize with no effort at all. It's like everyone knows their part from birth. The church choir made me stand up in front of everyone in the church while they sang a welcome song to me both in english and bemba. The minister came over and handed me a bible in English so I could follow along. Although I don't consider myself a very religious person and I don't adhere to one specific religion, I felt incredibly welcome and comfortable in this church full of people who don't speak my language and have a different set of beliefs. The sermon was on self-control and temperance, two things I never seem to have much of, but I was impressed with the minister's efforts to make me understand and even throw some English in, and I took the opportunity to work on my Bemba. The service was about 4 hours long and my brain hurt a little by lunchtime so I decided not to come back in the afternoon, but I made a resolve to try and go to at least one service at each church in Lufila. There is a Pentacostal church , Catholic church, and United Church of Zambia. Zambians love them some Jesus! :) If nothing else I'll go for the singing and to connect to more leaders in the community, because EVERYONE goes to church. I'll settle for saying my prayers before I go to bed at night. :)

Another crazy cultural experience I had was attending a women's initiation ceremony in my village. Gong show might be the only way to describe it...I couldn't compare it to anything in America. A couple younger women stopped by my hut just when it was getting dark one night and were saying something about dancing and how they wanted me to come with them. I was a little hesitant because, like pretty much every other encounter with Zambians I only understood about 10% of what they were saying, but decided to go with them. All I was going to do was crawl into my bed with a good book and go to sleep soon...BORING! Well we walked for about an hour to the other side of the village where there were a couple of fires going at someone's hut and lots of women sitting around the fire talking. I greeted all of them (something I've gotten quite good at...next step is more conversation, ha!) and sat with them around the fire for what had to have been a couple more hours, which was cool with me since it was getting pretty cold. The women seemed to vary in age from 20-70...maybe about 30 altogether. Some kept coming in and out of the hut and whatever was inside was a big secret. Finally the women told me I needed to pay to get inside, and of course I didn't bring any money so one of them loaned me 1,000 kwacha (about 30 cents) to get inside the hut. So there we all were, squished into this tiny hut with one candle burning in the corner. And in the center of the room is large falic symbol about a meter tall molded from clay with beans stuck into the sides and circular web of clay beneath it. In the corner were other clay figurines. One was a snake for sure...the others looked like miniature buddhas but I guess were pregnant women with baskets on their heads and babies on their backs and what may be inappopriate things to write about on this blog being done to them. I think these symbolized the "duties" of the women to their husbands. The ceremony was for girls who were about to get married, and was basically a way for the older women in the community to teach their daughters how to please their husbands and run their households. Of course they included me in the initiation (I'm proud to say I can now marry a zambian if I want...although the fact that I refuse to cook nshima and basically can't really cook in general or have a desire to pop out 10 babies makes the pool of zambian men who would want to marry me slim to none.) There was a lot of call and response chanting and singing while 3 women were consistently drumming in the corner. I got up and danced in the middle a few times and they LOVED to see my attempt to move my hips like they do. It must have been pretty comical, but I was really trying hard! As for the initiation, of course me and the other girls being initiated (mind you I'm almost 24 and they are maybe 14 or 15) had to first walk in circles around the falic clay molding, then dance around it, and finally sit on top of it. I'm all about participation in cultural experiences here, but I drew the line at this point. I'll dance till the morning light but hells no was I going to use that thing as a chair.

The dancing, singing, and drumming continued all night. It was so much fun but also taken very seriously by all involved. Women would take turns going in the middle of the circle and girating their hips like crazy. They even went so far as to pretend to be having sex with one another, while mothers pointed out to their daughters who was doing it the best. I was pretty much in shock the entire time, for as un-open as people are here about sex, put a bunch of Zambian women in a room together and there are no boundaries. Probably around 2:00 a.m. I was starting to doze off a little (remember my bedtime is usually around 8 p.m.), so they gave me a blanket and put me to sleep on a reed mat in the hut next door. I couldn't see anything but could hear a baby crying and children whispering, 'musungu! musungu!' (meaning 'white person' in bemba). I was exhausted and freezing so I curled up in the blanket and tried to doze off before any rats or mice scurried over. When the sun came up, the women came and woke me after having been up dancing the entire night. In the light of dawn it really hit me how simplistically Zambians live. I had not been inside another hut in my area, and it made me realize how much stuff I have compared to them. It was pretty empty except for a bed in one room, a reed mat, and a pile of potatoes in the corner. They had probably given me one of maybe two blankets that they owned so I could stay warm. Their own children were probably just using chitenges, yet they would never have let me give the blanket back. They share what they have, no matter how little, no questions asked.

We danced a little more and ate nshima, chicken, and beans for breakfast. I got back to my hut at 10 am and passed out for the rest of the day. It took a couple days to process what had just happened. It was an incredible experience that I feel so lucky to have gotten to the chance to partake in, and as a result I feel a lot closer with some women in my community. They are so eager to show me their traditions, it definitely made me feel more a part of my community. As I've mentioned before, I've never met such amazing women as I have in this country. If they could only realize the power they hold this country would change dramatically for the better.

Well I'm headed down to Lusaka for In-service Training in about 3 weeks, which means community entry period is dunski. I am looking forward to starting work on projects both in my community and in Mpika in September. It will be great to see the other people from my intake at the training, then a group of about 15 of us are headed to Malawi for a week for our first official vacation! Yay for crazy tan-lines. :)

Hope all is well back home. I think about it a lot, although Zambia becomes more and more like home every day. Lately I've really been craving some pizza...that's delivered...to your door...a completely American concept that hasn't quite caught on in Zambia yet.

Much luv from AFRICA. :)

Katie

I can't believe how much has happened in the past few weeks. 5 months ago I would have looked at some of the events of the last month and been in shock that this is actually my life...but after 5 months living in the bush nothing seems to surprise me anymore. My life seems to be one gong show after the other...at times i want to laugh so i don't cry, but most of the time i love it. :)

I just hope I can even begin to truly convey my 4th of July adventure on this blog...I don't know if I've ever laughed so hard while also honestly fearing for my life. Here goes...

As I wrote previously, us Mpika gals celebrated the 4th of July at Kapishya Hot Springs, about 25k west of the Great North Road (my village turnoff, but in the opposite direction). It so far out in the middle of nowhere (hmm sounds familiar...) that they charge $100 USD just to pick up guests from the main road and $300 USD for transport up from Mpika. We all met at the turnoff and luckily Lonnie drove us in to the springs at no cost. The springs make a natural hot (perfect temperature) pool that feed a stream leading to the Mansha River. Senator Gore-Brown, the famed builder of Shiwa House about 20k from the springs, wanted a hot bath after hunting and was shown the springs by his Zambian neighbors. He liked them so much taht he built a cabin right next to them as a weekend getaway for his family. Mark, his grandson, now own the property and his family's cabin became a quaint lodge for guests as the springs were developed into a business to lure tourists. The whole place is a small slice of paradise with cute little chalets by the river, a huge garden, and lots of palm trees. It's a tiny traveler's oasis, the only place to stop and rest for a night or 2 for those traveling between Mpika and Dar es Salaam. There is a nice campsite also run by Mark and his fiance, Mel, on the property. Being Peace Corps volunteers this was clearly our most affordable option, and all of us love to camp so we brought all our gear plus food, pots, and pans and set up our tents right next to the river. We found ourselves feeling a little spoiled by actually having toilet seats to sit on and HOT showers! Camping was luxury compared to our homes in the Bush. We had the place all to ourselves the first night but Mark told us it would be a busy weekend with both the 4th and 2 Zambian holidays coinciding.

Can't forget we are still in Africa so it can get pretty HOT during the day, but it was heaven to sit in the springs at night before going to bed and wake up early every morning to warn ourselves up before th sun rose. We could also bathe in the springs! (I was the cleanest I had been in months...funny, but also kinda gross yeah?) The first morning in the springs we talked with Mark and he told us Lonnie had offered to pay for all 5 of us to go rafting on the river on Sunday (normally $100USD). He also asked if we wanted to have a meal served to us at the lodge on evening. We hadn't budgeted to pay for a meal at the springs and had brought plenty of food to cook over the fire, but he insisted on giving us an amazing deal for a main course on sunday night that we couldn't refuse. At this point it was Friday morning but our mouths were already watering looking forward to sunday!

We met a variety of travelers in our 5 days at the springs. 2 guys in their 20s (one American, one German) who both received their MBAs from Harvard spent a couple nights camping in the middle of a road trip from Capetown to Nairobi and then back to cape town by way of the east coast. We stayed up late talking with them, Mark, Mel, and a random German family about development in Zambia. Mark, although white with a british accent, is a true Zambian born and raised, who speaks fluent Bemba and English, and it was fascinating to listen to what he had to say about foreign aid to Zambia. When Zambia gained its independence in 1964 it was an economic powerhouse in Africa. In the past 44 years it has declined to the 11th poorest nation in the world. A peaceful country that has never experienced civil war, it is even poorer than other African nations that have been war-torn in the past. How does that happen? We talked a lot about what NGOs and free handouts have done to Zambia and how its almost created a culture of learned helplessness. We also discussed the importance of empowering the women here. Unless the women of this country are empowered to realized their own voice and strength Zambia will not develop, because it is the women who do all the work! Although the conversation was incredibly interesting, it reiterated a lot of frustrations we as Peace Corps volunteers experience in our villages. How do you work with the culture here to create sustainable development? No one knows the answer, but the conversation left me encouraged and a little inspired to back to work in my village. Zambians right now are caught between 2 worlds, 2 cultures, their indigenous way of life and that of the imposing western world. And the thing is, no matter how frustrated you get, you can't blame Zambians. But the fact is, Zambia will not develop sustainably until Zambians themselves want it to. It's all in their hands, and we as foreigners can help through education, as we are lucky to have grown up in a prospering country where education is valued by the government. It was great to hear a lot of different opinions regarding development, NGOs, and even Peace Corps.

One thing 2 months in the bush has turned us into is expert campers. there were 2 couples staying at the site next to ours and they said they could tell we had some experience with making fires, creative meals (more like throwing a bunch of stuff in a pot), and being resourceful. We brought our aquatabs along and filled up our nalgenes straight from the river, got our dishes spotless without soap, and stoked some pretty blazing fires with some matches, a little trash, and palm tree branches. One night this huge bus titled "Serengeti Team" pulled into the campground, fully equipped with sinks, tents on top, tables, chairs, spotlights, and old white people. Just a little ridiculous...at one point they were all eating fancy dinners with wine and had a spotlight out, a big fluorescent tubelight (bug zapper? p.s. it's cold season...not a lot of mosquitos) and each person was sporting a headlamp. They rised their hands from a faucet in the bus while a river flowed 10 feet away. I'm pretty sure they didn't speak to any other campers and they were gone by the time we woke up in the morning.

Sunday finally rolled around and were all pumped for a lazy river-esque ride on the raft and a gourmet meal in the evening. If we only knew what we were actually in for...

Although Mark did ask us if we had paddled before, his first cue to throw some lifejackets on board should have been when the raft took off minus 2 of us and headed straight into a tree. Second cue should have been when we spun in circles as Mark and Mel waved goodbye on the shore. So there we were, 5 naive American girls, heading down the crocodile-infested river in our bikinis with 3 wooden paddles and no lifejackets.

What we thought was going to be a lazy river with maybe some small rapids turned out literally to be whitewater rafting. We had lots of fun at first pretending we knew what we were doing, trying not to beach the raft on big rocks or run into thorny palm tree branches. It was of the course the first to be knocked out of the boat but luckily Kathy grabbed my hand just in time and pulled me back up. Trying to avoid hitting a tree, Danialle accidentally stabbed Becky with her paddle, and both bodies and paddles were pretty much flying everywhere as the might African river pushed us along. I'm not sure what caused it, but Kathy and I were the first to be completely knocked out of the raft. Kathy tried to grab my leg as I desperately reached for the raft but it was too late. I swam like a bat out of hell to catch up to the raft and the other girls helped me back on as we grabbed onto a tree to halt the raft and wait for Kathy to catch up. At this point we are all having some good laughs (mostly at my expense since I can't seem to stay in the boat and tend to slightly freak out when in water that may or may not contain a crocodile waiting to chomp off my limbs), celebrating every small victory over the rapids and thinking we can handle it, no problem.

Without warning, we are suddenly on the edge of a waterfall (not a huge one, but big enough that our raft would most likely capsize). All 5 of us go immediately into crisis mode. We stop the raft at the edge, get ourselves and our stuff out, and decide that our best bet is to get the raft over the waterfall and then all jump in afterward. While we are all yelling and not listening to eachother, Kathy slips and falls into the water and is being pulled toward the bottom of the waterfall. I've never seen Kathy stressed or worried before, but I will never forget the look on her face as she yelled to us for help. We were helpless, still standing on top of the waterfall with the raft, and the only thought going through my mind was do I remember my CPR from lifeguard traning because I'm going to have to jump into the falls after her. We were all panicking and trying to get the raft in the water as quickly as possible to get to Kathy, who luckily was now away from the falls but bobbing and floating quickly downstream. Of course the log we are balancing the boat on breaks and I am the only one left standing on top of the waterfall with no raft. I dove into the water and swam like my life depended on it to catch up to the raft. Kath was balancing on a rock downstream and I'm pretty sure none of us breathed until we were all 5 safely back in the boat. It was at this point that we realized we should definitely not be out on this river minus lifejackets, helmets, and someone who knows what they're doing. It didn't make matters better that we had no idea where the vehicle was picking us up to take us back to the springs. We stopped at a fork in the river and rested a little on the shore, asking ourselves what Mark could possibly have been thinking. We had no choice but to get back in the boat and keep on keepin' on. We went over one more small waterfall, this time all staying in the raft, paddled through some areas that looked like perfect crocodile hangouts, and conquered a few more rapids. I kept feeling as if I was in a zoo exhibit for Africa. It was pretty surreal hos beautifully and essentially African the river and area was. I have expected to see people watching us, safely on the other side of a glass barrier. 3 hours after starting off (we found out later the trip should have only taken 1.5 hours), we saw the vehicle that would bring us back to Kapishya. We survived! Although there's truth to the statement that we should not have been out there by ourselves on that river, we had teh time of our lives and I'm secretly glad Mark didn't warn us about it ahead of time. A rule of thumb in Africa is to go into every situation with no expectations...you just gotta go with the flow and have faith that things will work out.

We were still on a high at dinner that night, and it was the best meal I've since since I got to Zambia. What's funny is the main cours was lasagna, something I would have gotten too excited about back in America, but the cheese was creamy goodness and the entire meal was both prepared for us and different from what we eat here every day. We were literally licking the bowls and plates clean. There were 2 british girls from Lusaka eating with us at our table. Poor girls had to eat in self-defense out of fear that we might actually take the food off their plates. The other "higher-paying" customers at the 3-course table were taking their time eating and having intellectual conversation while we were inhaling our food while also still talking about food and laughing about our rafting experience earlier that day. We were like the kids' table at family gatherings!

Our stomachs both bull and satisfied for the first time in way too long, combined with feeling emotionally and physically drained from the trauma of the day...needless to say we slept like rocks sunday night. We decided to head back to our villages on Tuesday, so Monday night Becky and I ended up hanging out at the bar with Mark, Mel, and a bunch of Brits. Becky and I hung out behind the bar with Mark for awhile and although we probably spent more than we should have we bonded with Mark and Mel and they even bought us a couple rounds. :)

Althought the break was nice and refreshing, I was looking forward to getting back home to Lufila, especially to my nice warm bed. :) Of course my bike broke while cycling to the tarmac before going to the springs and I had to bike on 1 gear for about 20k, so before I could cycle back to Lufila I had to spend a couple days in Mpika and wait for Lameck, who works for the Peace Corps in Northern Province, to drive up to my turnoff where I had to leave the bike and attempt to fix it. I stayed a couple days with Becky and we decided on a whim to get braided extensions in our hair, called "Plaiting" in Zambia. Picture 2 white girls wandering through the market looking for "Pretty Woman" fake hair (the brand to get apparently). We settled on "Darling" in reddish-brown. Although we clearly look pretty ridiculous, we provided the village entertainment while 4 women braided our hair for about 5 hours. They even fed us! It was a fun day-long even and we figured if nothing else we would do it just for the humor factor. So now we have long Zambian braids (actually Becky's have already fallen out, but I'm still sporting mine), but we basically look Jamaican. :)

Turns out I'm quickly running out of kwacha, but I have some more crazy stories that I'll try to write about this weekend when I have to go to Kasama to extend my visa. Much luv from the African Bush! Hope all is well ku America. Miss you more than lasagna...:)

Katie

Muli Shani! Since I just posted a week ago there is not much new to report, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to use internet next so I thought I would take advantage. I had to come to Mpika again this weekend to get my new malaria medicine, but it works out nicely because Becky is having a village party at her place tomorrow with food, music, dancing...should be lots of fun! The past week flew by in my village. It's crazy how time can go both slow and fast at the same time. I chucked the cat...gave it away to the little neighbor boy because it was driving me up the wall. It would not stop meowing and I knew it was time to get rid of it when I would secretly cheer on my puppy when it would attack the cat in the yard. So it's just me and little imbalala now, who is not so little anymore since after I feed her she trots over to the neighbor's house for nshima, which I refuse to make for myself, let alone the dog. Turns out I am absolutely not and will never be a cat person. (Although I might try to burrow one from someone in the village before rainy season to keep away the cats.)

Becky, Kathy, Jeanna, Danielle, and I are all going to the hot springs "near" my place to celebrate the 4th of July! I met with the owner, Mark, who is from the UK and whose brother runs Shiwa house, and I told him we were celebrating independence day. His response was, "celebrating high oil prices, and a bad president, huh?". Haha oh the british...they're just jealous because everyone is always celebrating their freedom from them. :) We are going to camp and grill out, and they even have showers and bathrooms at the campsite! It's the simple things in life...

I went for a run yesterday and at one point I could look out over the whole valley and see the large hill by the road that I have to bike to in order to get to Mpika. My booty hurt just looking at the distance, but the view was amazing...makes me wonder how I ever ran on a treadmill.

I hope you are all enjoying a HOT Minnesota summer! I miss the lakes so much, especially wakeboarding...can't do much of that here. No boat for one, and you'd probably get eaten by crocodiles if you fell in. Happy early 4th of July! Enjoy some extra sparklers for me. What do you think Mark would do if we set off fireworks at the springs? hmm... :)

Miss you all! Much love from zambia. :)

Katie

p.s. I can almost light my brasier without using my firestarters now...baby steps.

I made the trip back down to Mpika after almost 2 weeks in the village. I love my village, but have come to realize that there are certain telltale signs that I need to get out for a couple days. One of these is when I find myself hiding from villagers in my hut because I just don't want to greet yet another person in Bemba. I also know I need a break when I start have conversations with my pets. I've realized that there are days when I go without speaking any English, and my poor family gets there ears talked off whenever they call :) I am staying with Kathy this weekend, another volunteer who lives about 15k from Mpika. Her sight is gorgeous with an amazing view of the silhouette of the mountains and the lights of Mpika, and she is an awesome cook.

This past week was Child Health Week in Zambia, so every day I went with the clinic staff to different villages in my catchment area to give children 5 and under as well as pregnant mothers immunizations and vitamin supplements. I tried to convince the children that the vitamin A and deworming pills were sweeties, but they weren't really buying it. :) Of course the clinic staff mostly rode the motorcycle to the villages while I followed behind on my bike, but Peace Corps just gave us these sweet new Trek bikes so mine was fun to test out. Of course it makes it a little more difficult to persuade villagers that you are a poor volunteer when Peace Corps shows up in the land cruiser with a shiny new bike and accessories....but I won't complain because I get lots of use out of it. I was planning on attempting the 130k ride to the boma on Friday but after a week of biking for Child Health Week I settled on 30k to the tarmac and then hitched the rest of the way.

So one of the villages in my catchment area that is only about 7k from my village has a legitimate problem with Elephants. They storm their crops and their homes, while the community is pretty much helpless as poaching is punishable by death. The NHC members told me I could come anytime to see the elephants. I might just have to bring my tent and take them up on that. Because even though it's horrible that they are causing such problems, it's not every day in America that you see elephants storming things...

The other Mpika volunteers and I are planning a trip to the hot springs to celebrate the 4th of July! Luckily it sits right next to an African Holiday so we get about 5 days off. A bunch of us are also planning a trip to Lake Malawi right after In-Service training at the end of August. Apparently there is amazing scuba diving there.

I have become increasingly annoyed with people staring at me. It's like I am constant entertainment that never gets old for the children. Adults will stare as well. I try to greet the adults in Bemba and usually that helps, but with the children I have started making funny faces back at them and having 'staring contests'. I always win of course :) I have to remind myself daily that I am so different from them and I stand out so much that they can't help but stare. It's like a purple-colored person wandering through America. Even when I see other white people in Mpika I find myself staring at them too! I want to know what they are doing all the way out here...and I'm sure they probably wonder the same about me.

I finally got an official malaria medication switcheroo approved by the Peace Corps Medical Office. I am now taking Doxycycline, which is an antibiotic that I need to take every day the entire time I am here, which clearly isn't good for the body, but I'll take it any day over malaria.

I am becoming a little more clear as to what kind of work I can do in my village. I attended a Neighborhood Health Committee training a couple weeks ago at my Rural Health Center conducted by HCP (Health Communication Partnership), an NGO here in Zambia that basically does my job as a CAHP volunteer except they have money. My NHC's are just getting started so there is plenty of potential for capacity-building which is what I am here to do, and I hope to work with HCP to make the training complete as well as help with monitoring and evaluation. The HCP workers that I met said they have worked well with some Peace Corps volunteers in the past, and they only come to my area quarterly so I can work together with them to fill in any gaps in training as well as work with the NHC's on a more regular basis. That translates to lots of biking for me. :)

Hope all is well back home! Zambians here that follow American politics at all are pumped about Obama! Kathy gave me some Obama stickers I am going to hand out in my village....ya know, with all the people around here voting in November....

I miss you all more than cake. Much love from the Zambian bush!

Katie

Mwapoleni bonse! I'm back in Kasama now for Provincial meetings. I got in yesterday and after 2.5 hours on my bike with my tent, sleeping bag, and backpack, then about 4 hours in transport vehicles I just about collapsed after arriving at the Peace Corps house last night. (After my highly-anticipated hot shower and a couple cold beers of course.) A bunch of volunteers were already at the house so it was nice to see people and hang out, and the rest will get in today. Meetings are all day tomorrow, then this weekend a few of us are going to head to Chishimba Falls near kasama to see the waterfalls and camp.

The past couple weeks in my village have gone pretty well. I attended my first under-5 outreach clinic with my counterpart in a village about 36k away from my own last wednesday. My counterpart was pretty upset at the turnout, as he was anticipating more mothers to come. They bring their children for immunizations and vitamin supplements, and babies are weighed as well. Basically it's lots of wailing babies, but they are so adorable! It is also an outreach to the village to provide birth control and also educate on safemotherhood, HIV during pregnancy, family planning, etc. Although I was just an observer at this first clinic, in the future I will participate in the educational component as well as get to weigh some babies (and most likely get peed on). Malnutrition in children is a major issue here in rural Zambia. It was one thing to read and learn about conditions such as marasmus and kwashiorkor during training that produce bleached/lightened hair and swollen bellies in children, but quite another to actually see the effects of malnutrition first-hand. Families here are so large and resources for proper nutrition are not readily available (I even worry about my own nutrition in the village). Under-5 clinics are a great way to reach very rural villages who otherwise would not be able to take their children to the Rural Health Center, and the opportunity for health education is great, but they are ineffective if only a small number of mothers show up. This will be an obstacle I will attempt to tackle as a volunteer here. This three months of community entry time is helping me to see the great number of opportunities there are for me to work with my community and help develop their abilities to reach out to community members and motivate them to take responsibility for their health (since the government of Zambia has delegated that responsibility to them).

Last weekend, Lonnie, a retired peace corps volunteer who drives me to Mpika a lot (I think I mentioned him in an earlier post), wanted to introduce me to the people that run Shiwa house about 30k from where I live. Talk about surreal moments in Zambia. Shiwa is a huge colonial british mansion that was built in the 1800's I believe by a British family that moved to Zambia for development aid. The original owner of the house was actually the first and only white person to receive a government burial from President Kaonde, as he was key in helping Zambia gain their independence from Britain. His decendents now run the house and people fly in from all over the world (in their private jets of course...there is a landing strip on the property) to stay at the house, dropping thousands of dollars in a matter of days. The house is absolutely gorgeous (needless to say my mud hut pales in comparison) and I got to meet and have tea with Charles, the british owner. He even offered me a free stay in the house anytime I would like to stop by! I explained to him where I was living and what I was doing in the village, and he said "call me old-fashioned but I can't believe they allow you girls to live way out here in the villages"...haha. Clearly he thinks I'm hardcore (wink!) He gave me his number, the house number, and his son's number (he's single and in his 20's....I think Lonnie is playing match-maker) in case I get into any trouble in my village and need to get out. In case of emergency they are great people with vehicles who could help me, but let's hope a situation like that never arises (knock on wood). At least it gives me peace of mind.

My neighbor next door just had a baby boy, so precious! I had dinner with them the other night, chicken (yummy!) for the special occasion, and I got to hold him all bundled up in about 10 blankets. They gave me some money to buy some baby clothes here in Kasama, so I'm going shopping after I finish with the internet.

The transition to village life has gotten easier with each passing week. It's hard to believe I was posted over a month ago! I went to a soccer game in my village last Sunday, and it was so much fun to watch, they were so good! They even played with kleats and uniforms which is almost unheard of in village games. However, maybe 30 minutes into the game there was a disagreement about a penalty kick was called. The opposing team refused to give up the kick, and pretty soon the entire village was out on the field arguing with eachother. Then the game was over. Everyone just got up and left. I felt as if I was the only one who was surprised by all this. Ha! Something that would never happen in America....but I guess there is a rematch next weekend.

My kitty, puppy, and I are like a happy little family in my mud hut. I talk to them a lot as if they are people...but they keep me company and although I regretted buying them at first because of the maintenance I am glad they are there to greet me when I come home! They didn't get along at all at first, but the other night while I was eating dinner (cold corn from the can because I didn't feel like lighting up my brasier) they were both curled up together on my lap sleeping. I love my puppy, and the cat has it's moments when it isn't completely annoying, but it has killed a couple mice so I let it stick around.

Andrew Jo, the PCVL (peace corps volunteer leader) came to visit my site last week, and since I'm so far out he just spent the night. He was my first company and it was so nice to have someone to talk to in English about concerns, things that are going well, village life, etc. We made a big mexican feast that I would probably never attempt on my own. And the result of his visit is that my village thinks he's my husband...haha. They just can't fathom the fact that I am not married and don't have children. There was one woman at the under-5 clinic who was 22 and already had 4 children. Women my age in Zambia are breastfeeding and working out in the fields....while I am still figuring out exactly what it is I want to do with my life. They say I am like a soldier because I ride my bike and that I am very strong. I tell them that Zambian women are the strongest women I have met. Anyone who can carry 20 liters of water on their head while also carrying a baby on their back (in the hot African sun of course) will beat me any day in a competition of strength.

I hope all is well on the other side of the world. I hear small tidbits about the upcoming election. I'm disappointed I'll miss all the craziness surrounding it all. I just gotta figure out how to vote from here....

Miss you all! Sending you all my love from Zambia.

Katie

Well, I survived my first two weeks in the village. I'm not gonna lie, the first week was my toughest in Africa so far. I was posted on Saturday, May 3(?) and the malaria had left me pretty anemic, so I was pretty exhausted. I commissioned some villagers to cement my house, and that whole process took almost 2 weeks. Each day I had to move everything out of my house early in the morning and then move it all back in at the end of the day. The process of making my water ok to drink took a few hours. There is a stream that runs close to my house and I was both fetching my water from as well as bathing in that river, until I was notified that it is dangerous because of the crocodiles. oops? So now I need to go further to get my water from a different part of the river (the neighbors help me out sometimes but I like knowing I can do it myself....p.s. I don't know how these women carry those buckets on top of their heads....ouch!) Once I get the water I need to chlorinate it, filter it, boil it, then wait for it to cool so I can drink it. After a week of being dehydrated because that process takes forever, I decided to stop boiling it....and pray I don't get a parasite from the river.

I probably slept a total of 5 hours the entire week, a combination of being homesick, taking my malaria medicine (which makes me hallucinate and causes my hair to fall out), and just the shock of knowing how far out I am. I made it through the first week and then biked 2.5 hours to the tarmac and hitched a ride to Mpika to meet up with some other volunteers for the weekend. I was really struggs at that point. However, an angel sent from God came in the form of a retired peace corps volunteer named Lonnie who volunteered in Zambia in '95 and just never really left. He married a dutch doctor from the mission hospital near Mpika and is now building a house on a lake near where I live. He is an old white guy from Alabama :) He gave me his number and said I can catch a ride with him to Mpika whenever I need to since he goes there a lot in his big truck. I got a ride in with him again this weekend because I need to go to the immigration office for my work visa, and he has been telling me about all the great places to camp, bike, and hike around the area. He's crazy, but amazing at the same time. :)

I don't want this post to give off the impression that I'm miserable, because I am definitely not. The first week was one of the hardest of my life but it just made me realize that the next two years are going to challenge me in ways I never imagined. My counterpart in the village, who I will be working with a lot ( he is the in-charge at the clinic) is great and is basically running the entire clinic by himself so he is eager for me to lend him a hand. There is a lot of great work to be done in my village and I am so thankful for the opportunity to live there and integrate into the community for the next two years. My neighboring family is awesome, and the fact that they don't speak much English is just another reason for me to keep working on my Bemba! My site is gorgeous, and I have been exploring around the area a little bit. Apparently sometimes elephants have been known to come through, and I am located in the game management area and very close to North Luangwa National Park, where there are lots of wild animals to see. :)

I think the hardest part so far has just been feeling lonely. I eat some meals with my family that lives close, but one can only eat so much Nshima (the staple food of Zambia)....so there are lots of times where I put on music, cook my meal for myself, maybe have a glass or 2 of wine, read, and head to bed around 8:00 at night or earlier (it's dark by 6!). As I get to know more people in my community I'm sure the loneliness will subside, and this whole process of adjustment will just make me stronger in the end.

There are some things I will never take for granted again....1) a hot shower (although warm bucket baths under the stars of an african night sky is something everyone should experience), 2) a cold beer, 3) a bed to sleep on, and 4) chips and salsa, and 5) the amazingly supportive friends and family I have back at home (and liz in china!).

Oh, and chalk it up to filling an emotional void, but Becky and I bought puppies on a whim last weekend. :) I think mine has special needs and she looks a little worse for the ware, but I'm a little scraggly myself these days so I thought it was the perfect fit. :) Now I just need to figure out how to bike it back to my village without killing it....

All in all, things are looking up and I am excited to keep exploring Northern province. There are some hot springs near my place that I want to camp at soon with some friends, and my community is holding a public meeting sometime soon about my work as a peace corps volunteer so it will be nice to meet more people. And I've gotten to play soccer....a lot. :) I think I'll be OK. Thanks for all the support, and much love from Zambia! I will try to write again soon. :)

Katie

Yup, I'm still here in Kasama. Sunday morning I woke up with some mad stomach issues, and by Sunday night I was pretty much down for the count. I'll spare the gruesome details, but basically I felt like hell for a good couple days. Lots of fetile position on the bathroom floor....and thank god I had a bathroom at all to spend time in and not a pit latrine. The Peace Corps medical office thinks I had malaria but doesn't know for sure. All of my symptoms pointed to the big M. Luckily there were people at the provincial house here in Kasama to take care of me and I could sleep in a comfy bed. :) I wasn't able to go shopping with all the others for move-in because I was so sick, and they also didn't want to post me when my body was still recovering, so I should be posted tomorrow (saturday)! I am kind of going stir crazy at the house. Plus the tv isn't working so I've been doing lots of reading and sleeping. I was finally able to eat some normal food yesterday, but the malaria has made me pretty anemic so I'm get tired easily. Turns out Malaria is not fun and I hope to never get it again. However, Peace Corps did give me some miracle medication that helped me feel better a lot faster than I normally would have. Oh, and thank you all so much for all your messages of concern. Looks like I'm gonna be ok!

So I should be able to post on this blog again in a few weeks, as I have to come back to Kasama on May 21st to renew my visa. Then I'll be back up here again in June for Provincials, when all PCVs in Northern meet up to discuss....stuff? Not sure, I guess I'll find out!

So I officially move in to my hut tomorrow and after having stayed at the house for so long I am SO ready. It'll be crazy! I miss you all and remember to fight malaria in Africa! :)

Katie

Hello from Kasama in Northern Province! Turns out my opportunities to use internet will be pretty few and far between for the next two years, especially since my site is way far out, but I promise to try and update this blog as much as possible. There are so many things that I want to sat it's going to be hard to get it all in before I run out of kwacha...but here goes....

The past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of activity. All 51 of us officially swore in as Peace Corps Volunteers on Friday!! Thank GOD training is over. Of course I will miss my host family and close friends that I've made over the past two months, but I am so ready to get on with what I came here for in the first place. We had a big celebration with our host families last week, and I had to give a speech in Bemba, but I think it went pretty well. We cooked a ton of food and our families gave us gifts and we said goodbye to them. I tought my family to give a peace sign and say 'peace out' when I got here and they all said it as I was getting into the land cruiser and driving away. Love them! I plan to go back and visit them while I'm here in Zambia.

After swear-in, Peace Corps put all of us up in the pretty nice place called Eureka Farms in Lusaka. Somehow Becky, Davy, and I lucked out with the honeymoon suite chalet! wink! We stayed at Eureka for two nights and celebrated training being over. I don't think someone could have hand-picked a more random group for our intake. There are so many crazy characters and we are all very different from eachother...but we do have in common that we are willing to live in the bush-bush of africa for 2 years and we have a ton of fun together. I've made some amazing friends here already in the past two months and it's important to have that support system. Of course I really miss all my friends and family from home. I just want everyone to see what my life is like here, because it's pretty indescribable.

I am here in Kasama with the other 7 volunteers that will also be in Northern Province. We are staying at the Provincial House, which is a place we can come to 3 days out of every month to meet up with other volunteers and have some time away from the village to just chill. We will head to Mpika on Tuesday I will be posted to my site on wednesday! Crazy! I am so excited to move into my hut and be settled in one place for 2 years, as well as meet the villagers and get to know the community...but the other half of me is a little scared shitless. I am probably the most far out of any volunteer in Zambia, but I know that I have a lot of support through the Peace Corps and I wanted the hardcore experience so I just need to make it through the initial adjustments.

Thanks for all the letters! I appreciate them more than you know. :) My new address for the next two years is:

Katie Bierlein (PCV)

P.O. Box 450100

Mpika, Zambia

Oh, and on a random tally, so far I have only seen one snake, no rats, a few bats, some zebras, a couple lions, 4 million chickens, 5,000 goats, eaten one crocodile burger and one caterpillar, hit only one zambian with my bike (it wasn't my fault I swear!), and had only one serious biting of the dust on my bike (still a little sore from that one). We'll see what happens once I get to my village!

I hope all is well back in the states! I think about you guys all the time and I hope that Minnesota weather improves soon. :) I will try and post again as soon as I can, but it may not be until June. Miss you all! Peace out homies.

Katie

hey everyone!

muli shani from the african bush-bush! it's crazy but this is the first time i have been able to access my email or blog since i got here. i have an internet phone but for some reason facebook has been pretty much the only site i can get to on it. there is so much to say and so little time! first of all, africa ROCKS. i love zambia. the people, the climate, the scenery. i love it all. it's hard to believe that we only have one month left of training, the time is going by pretty fast! training is pretty intense, with about 7 hours of class almost every day (4 hours of language in the morning and 3 hours of technical traning in the afternoons). so much information has been thrown at us that it can get pretty frustrating at times, but it's the times when i am biking to class and there are mountains in the distance or when i am brushing my teeth at night and i just stare up at milky way spanning across my hut in the african sky that i know it is all worth it. :) the people in my intake are awesome, too. there are a handful that i've become pretty close with and we are already planning vacations to zanzibar and trips to eachother's sites.

we found out on thursday where we will be spending the next two years of our lives! i will be in northern province, about 80km north of Mpika. My village has never had a peace corps volunteer before, and started building my hut before peace corps even told them they needed to so hopefully that means they are as excited as i am! there are natural hot springs about 20k from my village and my hut is secluded by trees. i am also very near mountains as well as a game park to see lots of animals! there is an old victorian house built by an englishman very near to me that is apparently a huge tourist spot and has chalets that are great to go stay in overnight or camp out at. My site is pretty far out and will require an hour of biking just to get to the Great North Road (the major road running through northern province), then another hour car ride (i'll need to hitch!) to Mpika. I believe I am 30k from the nearest pc volunteer, danielle, who is awesome and another soccer girl. :)

I am so incredibly excited to get to my site but also a little nervous as i won't have cell service and who knows how far i will have to bike to get it. however, i was looking for a hard-core experience and it sounds like that is what i am going to get!

we are in lusaka right now buying food and such for a visit to northern province to see our sites and meet other volunteers in the province. we will be staying up there with another volunteer for a week. it is also an opportunity for us to meet people in our village and maybe get a carpenter to start building us tables, bedframes, etc. for our huts. later today, there is a big party for us back at the training center, complete with soccer, goat (i hear it's yummy!), and dancing! they even got us a dj haha. well i'm almost out of time here but hopefully i can update this blog again soon! thanks to all of you who have written letters, i have been busy writing letters to you all as well (mostly while sitting in class haha).

i hope everything is well back in the u.s., i miss you all like CRAZY but everyday am reminded of how i am having the experience of a lifetime. much luv from ZAMBIA!!

love,

katie

Well, it's about 3:30 in the morning on the day of my departure to Washington D.C. and I just finished packing. Crazy. Luckily Sarah and Jamie were there to help me sit on things. :)

I am really going to make an effort to keep up with this blog. Hopefully I will have a chance, once we arrive in Zambia this weekend, to write a post about how orientation and all the traveling went.

Thanks to everyone who came to my going away party! I think a great time was had by all, and it was so good to see everyone before leaving for 27 months. I really do have feel so lucky to have the best family and friends in the world. :)

I need to be at the airport in a couple hours....one thing I don't mind leaving behind is the cold Minnesota weather....it's supposed to be 79 degrees in Lusaka when we arrive! My body might just go into shock....

I love you all! Take care, and be sure to go over to my house and argue with my parents so they don't miss me as much! :)

.katie.

I've never really been into the whole blogging thing, but after reading many blogs from peace corps volunteers I have realized that they are incredibly helpful and practical. While I am serving in the peace corps, I can write about my experience when I get the chance and be better able to stay in contact with my friends and family. So this is my first post....and I'm going to try to keep it short and sweet. :)

This past October I was invited to serve in the Peace Corps as part of the Community Action for Health Project in rural Zambia. And when I say rural, I mean RURAL. I will be living in a mud-brick hut with no electricity, the nearest running water will be a half-hour's walk, and my thighs will only continue to grow in size as I will use my all-terrain bike (courtesy of the Peace Corps) to travel at least 20 km a day. I will be working through the Ministry of Health in Zambia to help establish and maintain Rural Health Committees that will contribute to the decentralization movement in Zambia. Basically, I will try to help rural Zambian villages be sustainable when it comes to health care. So of course right now I'm feeling incredibly under-qualified, but I will go through intense training for 3 months prior to my service in Lusaka. I report to my staging in the U.S. on February 20 and depart for Africa with 30-40 other wide-eyed volunteers February 24.

My hope is that this blog will serve as a place where my family and friends and anyone else interested can check up on my adventures in Africa. Right now I'm just trying to get ready to go and prepare for what hopefully will be the experience of a lifetime. :)