The joy of giving

During our Pre-service training one thing Zambians noted about American culture is that we don't share or give as freely as perhaps they are accustomed to. Many voulunteers disputed this matter saying, "but don't you see us share our lunches, and our cokes, and such?" My thoughts are this: yes we shared our lunch that was a portion for three, yes we gave a friend a sip of a cold beverage, I'm not saying we don't share but I'm saying a majority of American's, myself included, share or give when it's convienant. Yes I'm making a mass cultural statement that doesn't accurately reflect each individual but in many ways it does reflect the overlying appearance of our society.

Let me demonstrate: today I went to the river to do my normal chores. One of the older girls that lives around was there fishing. First of all she stopped fishing to come help me with my dishes. When we were done I asked how many fish she had caught so far. She held up a small fish not quite the width of my palm to show her catch. I smiled and bid her wishes for a good catch. Before I could leave a another young girl was offering me the fish. I insisted it was their fish to eat and that I didn't need it, but as is so common here, before I could hardly say no thanks, the fish was being scaled and gutted for me to take home and eat.  Will the girl catch more fish for the family to eat for dinner tonight? Maybe, if she stays all day then likely. But the point to me was that she gave up her morning's worth of fishing efforts and quite possibly the only protein she will have today without hesitation.

Yes the fish was small and yes lots of people fish here regularly but to me it wasn't the size of the gift it was the complete willingness to give without thought of her own needs. To put someone else before yourself entirely. I'll be totally honest with you if the tables had been turned I would not have been so selfless.  But it humbled me today to take this girl's only fish. I even started a fire just to fry  the little thing. And it was only a couple tiny bites but more than the protein it gave my body was the nourishment it gave my heart.

And perhaps next time when I think about being stingy with money or food or whatever I might have I'll be a little more like the girl with the fish.

The importance of culture

Someone mentioned to me the other day that there really is no need for currency anymore. First of all the bartering system has been employed since the start of time and currency is only an invention of government. Secondly by this individual's argument we should be capable of a world electronic currency that would make the printing, exchanging, and other hassles irrelevant.

To this statement I kindly disagreed. First off those who enjoy collecting different currency would be sorely dissappointed but secondly money is still one aspect that maintains culture.

The Nation of Zambia is comprised of 73 tribes with that many more languages and dialects. In order to bridge the gap the Zambian government has declared English their national language stemming back to their prior English colonialism. This has been one attempt at uniting these tribes, but back to the money. The Zambian currency is called Kwacha with their equivalent of "cents" being called ingwe. The current exchange rate is 6 kwacha to 1 dollar. (5KR to 1USD if you are exchanging smaller bills like 20s). Previously the Kwacha was in 1,000 denominations until a government effort change the value last year.

Despite attempts to unify all of Zambia under their current creed "One Nation Strong and Free" there still exists two worlds here- that of the rural and that of the urban. And in many ways it could be said that of the old and that of the new. And despite a declared national language and national currency the fact yet remains that there are 73 different peoples under one flag. I'll talk another time about the tradition of tribal cousinship as a means of keeping peace and culture but for now let's keep on the money theme.

The old world is the one I live in. The part of Zambia many refer to as "the bush" or "the village." It's the part of Zambia where they don't speak English and they still pay for things with Chickens. To my surprise it's the part of Zambia many urban Zambians have never seen or experienced. It is here that culture and currency is rich. It is here that exists the beauty in our differences.  Cultural differences between tribes still leaves room for many difficulties but the more we try to unite one common thing the more we strip away those very things that make us identifiable. So with all this being said I think there is simplist beauty in bartering. I think different currency is fascinating, though it can be a pain when traveling. But above all I think the idea of currency is that of the idea of language; it identifies us and allows us to carry out our own traditions. Can you imagine a world without brightly colored different sized Euros (another example of standardizing), without the fascinating creatures on Idian rupees, without our rather boring green American dollar bills, without pirates goldesque coins from Honduras, without the Zambian money that is usually so worn you can barely decern its value. I agree it would be highly convienant but aside from that it would be oh so boring! So I for one, rejoice in our differences that define our cultures, currency and all.

Snakes, rats, & bats oh my!

A cute bat lives in my chim, rats eat my stuff while I'm away, and a snake crawled over my foot in the river. It sounds like the start of the children's book "Alexandar's very bad horrible no good day" but in fact it's just my life here in Zambia.

This time of year the rains are driving out and in some cases into our homes the creatures big and small. The bat who lives in my chimbusu was only speculation from the regular and centered droppings but on a rainy Saturday I finally met the little fellow face to face. He was actually quite adorable and I felt a little bad shooing him out into the rain but alas I don't want to be pooped on while I'm pooping!

The rats and mice, well they are always around but they've taken refuge in my roof where the cat can't get them. So instead I hear them running around up there in my plastic lining all the time. Unfortunately while the cat is away the mice WILL play. And by play I mean eat through books, boxes, plastic bags, and poop all over my house! It makes me never want to leave my house for vacation again.

And the snake: this time of year a lot of their burrows have flooded from the rains and they are out and about for your viewing pleasure (not!). I had previously seen a few small, probably harmless ones and killed one with a stick but the ones out and about now are no joke. The other day I was at the river intently washing my clothes when I felt something on my toe. I looked down and a 4ft long black snake was resting its head on my presumably warm and comfy foot. Now I'm not overly scared of snakes, I think one could say I have a healthy appreciation of them but I won't hesitate to hold a pet snake and I was the kid who freaked mom out by bringing ones I had caught inside. However, here in Africa just about every variety of snake is darn near deadly and even if the venom doesn't kill you the resulting infection from a bite sure could. So needless to say when I saw a blackish grey head of the sleek and smooth variety resting on my foot I screamed and ran away. Admitidly this was a stupid move because motion and noise only irritate snakes. Luckily this guy wasn't an aggressive snake and didn't pursue me out of the water but he sure did lift his head and hiss. I looked around for a big stick to kill the snake with and I don't know how exactly it's possible since there are always bamboo poles laying about, but I couldn't find a single stick in the vicinity. I tried a different method and started yelling "insoka!" the bemba word for snake. Usually this results in 1-5 villagers popping out of places you didn't even know existed and coming to kill it, but I timed my washing just right and there wasn't a soul around. Just me and an angry snake chilling by my laundry. I was contemplating what to do and when I looked back up it was gone. I hadn't seen where it went, I hadn't heard it go, and there was no trace that it had ever been there. Feeling sufficiently creeped out and slightly questioning my sanity I cautiously returned to my washing. I kept thinking, "there is nothing here and it happened so fast, maybe I was just imagining it." I didn't understand where a 4ft snake could've disappeared to in an instant. After a while I forgot about the snake and was in the home strech of finishing washing my clothes. I was reveling in the accomplishment when that same darn snake poked his head around the other side of my bucket. I again screamed and stumbled back a bit but not so far this time, the snake didn't seem to care at all. It's almost as if he was just saying "what's up, you doing some laundry over here? Let me see what your washing in this bucket." And when my reply was just to carefully watch him he got bored and moved to the rocks on the side. I tried my "insoka" tactic again but nothing. This time I didn't take my eyes off the thing. Instead I studied it. It looked far longer now that it was stretched out instead of scrunched up preparaed to strike. At first I could only see black but now that the sun came out I noticed the grey/silver coloring and I immediately made note of the head shape since this is exactly the color of our deadly friend the black mamba who is called so not for the outter skin but the pitch black inside it's mouth. Luckily mambas have a coffin shaped head with a more pointed nose, this one clearly had a more circular/oval shaped head. Whew! It also probably explains why it didn't chase me as a mamba would've. I watched this thing slither around the rocks and then dip back into the water. The thing swam completely submerged under water silently and almost invisible! It wasn't until it neared a tree that it began to swim with its head up. It lifted it's body out of the water an impressive distance until it grabbed a branch and pulled the rest of its body into the tree. I watched it like a hawk while I washed my last clothing item and rinsed everything. It blended in with the branch so well I couldn't tell if it was still there or not but I definitely high tailed it out of there once everything was clean. Having a valid case of the creepy crawlies I flinched at every movement in the bush on the path home. After hanging my clothes I called my friend and he identified it as an olive web snake from my description, only mildlly venomous and not at all aggressive, but never the less reccomended investing in a machete or something to carry with me when I'm in the bush this time of year. The villagers laugh at me now when I take it to the river, but just wait what they will say the next time I meet one!

Welcome to rainy season in the bush my friends! And snakes, rats, and bats are only the beginning of the life that has emerged from the foliage.

PICTURES FROM TRAINING: SUMMER 2014

Pictures from training in Chipimpi near the capital of Lusaka:  summer of 2014