Living without.....

An interesting concept that I'm learning right now is living without. The Zambians have a way of using things up and wearing things out, and fast! I have always been a bit of a packrat and a great rationer. The problem with that is I end up with piles of old stuff I was saving for "just the right time/use." I, of course, tend toward the exact same habit here.

Most of the Zambians in the village are horrible at rationing and budgeting and so they often find themselves in the exact opposite position. The thing that most surprises me about this is how little it seems to bother them doing without. The mattress got destroyed, no problem sleep on the floor. The bicycle broke, walk instead. The clothes ripped, wear them with holes. The soap is used up, wash with water. The vegetables are gone, eat shima with no relish. And so on and so forth.

It's a concept I don't readily understand but I'm trying to take a page from the do-without book and find a happy medium. There is no point in having things if you don't use them but it is nice to set aside certain things and enjoy them in small quantities instead of using it all up right away in a frantic binge.

I keep a few bottles of nailpolish here at the house and frequently paint the kid's and bamaayo's finger and toenails. They love it, and I love the smile it puts on their face. Turns out a bunch of the school kids have gotten wind of this recently and they've been coming in droves asking for "ukupainta"- (to) paint. Sometimes I'm in the middle of cooking and don't want to get up to dig them out but other times I give them the polish bottles and when they are finished I come out to find my porch and them covered in it. At first I was a little upset that the polish was being used up so fast, soon it will be gone. And I really liked being able to make the day of the neighbors and people who help me out and wanted to save this treat for them. But the more I thought about it the more I thought,"when it's gone it's gone and they will be fine with that." 

After two years in country one might think I would've become a master at this but quite the opposite. I get fuel anxiety when I'm low on charcoal or spirits and promptly buy a bag before the previous is finished. In fact my neighbors now keep an eye on my charcoal levels and usually come to sell me a new bag when they notice I'm down past the half-way mark. But as I wrap up service I have 5 more months to try to learn how to do without.

Its a bit of a funny shift that happens when you are a PCV. For me I came to country expecting to rough it, so pooping in a hole and bucket bathing was at first an adventure, then it became the norm, and now I find myself missing luxuries like a toilet and shower. Yes I'm completely used to doing without these things and you would think in a way I would just forget they exist but on the brink of my return I find myself longing more and more for these luxuries.

In the end whether I truly learn to live without or not I've certainly stretched my comfort zone and have become very creative in my approach to what can suffice in place of many things. I've also learned that the bush really does provide so many amazing resources from the makings of a fire to food and everything in between!

The Peace Corps Family

Hello Everyone,
I had just about given up on posting any more entries due to the sheer frustration of connectivity and the ability to upload but this story needs to be told.

There are many reasons to join the Peace Corps and plenty of reasons not to but this past week I have experienced first hand one of the better sides of a Peace Corps service and that is the Peace Corps family. You may hear people say this and think it sounds super cheesy but let me tell you; this past week I have experienced an extended family, that I never knew, in a way I can't vocalize my appreciation for enough.

I was supposed to be on "vacation" in Namibia this past week. My vacation quickly turned nightmare when I was robbed my first day in the country and left without a shred of identification or money (I am alright). Let me tell you trying to get one without the other is IMPOSSIBLE! Luckily I am a PCV which means I am not alone. Not even close to it.

I called a PCV in Zambia to get the Namibia number (since that emergency info was now gone also). On the other end of the duty phone was a super supportive voice who quickly dropped his weekend plans, picked me up, and started to help me put together the pieces. My pass through of Windhoek has become a week long mess of paperwork and shoestring budgeting. Thankfully for the PC staff and volunteers of Namibia they have helped me to not only sort out the mess of money and ID but they have helped me salvage a bit of vacation in the process.

I cannot express the outpouring of support I've received from both staff and PCVs alike. People I have never met before have offered to give me money, have fed me, have housed me, and have spent numerous hours in offices helping me recover/complete various paperwork or funds. When I was so close to finally getting a replacement passport I was told I needed $135 USD! I didn't have that much in Namibian dollars let alone US dollars. Every step of the way there seemed to be a hiccup, but one of the US staff members loaned me the cash and when we discussed how to repay the only thing she asked was that I pay it forward one day when I have the opportunity to do so. You better believe I will.

I might not have gotten to skydive over the desert or kayak with the seals or enjoy any of the planned activities but what I did get to see was an inside look at Namibia from the gracious homes of PCVs. I didn't get to shop the vast craft markets and bring home all the loot I wanted but the couple pieces I was able to get (after getting some cash from home, which was it's own headache) I bought from groups that PCVs work directly with and I know exactly what went into each piece. To me this is far more valuable than having a bunch of junk that is potentially made in China or India anyway! Quality over quantity.

I got to have an impromptu dinner with 6 other Namibian PCVs over homemade burritos, wine, and cake while watching the sunset over a lake. I've been able to learn about other PCV projects here and look at what they are doing in their communities and learn a lot about the culture of Namibia that I otherwise might've missed.

So, while losing everything is no fun (do be vigilant when traveling), I have had such an outpouring of support from this extended family that I call Peace Corps. If you are contemplating joining PC and not sure about leaving friends and family in the States behind I can only say to you, you are missing out on a wonderful large family abroad. Bad things may happen, life happens! But with the support of family I am still smiling at all the warmth (literally!) and beauty that Namibia has to offer.

No names have been mentioned but if you read this you know who you are and I am forever grateful for everything each one of you did for me in my time of need.

Village Portraits

Ba Joshua

Ba Careen

Ba Joyce

Ba Elvis

 Ba Priscilla

Ba Careen

Ba Elias aka Bataata

Ba Misheck

Ba Calvin

Ba Maggie

Ba Matilda

Ba Joshua

Ba Henry

Mid-Service Update

It's midterms, which marks the official half way point of my service. I've been notoriously bad at blogging due to a mixture of factors including lack of service to post, being too busy with programs, and just being too tired and worn out to write sometimes. There is also the fact that those things that once seemed novel have become so very commonplace. Carrying water on my head once felt like an accomplishment; now it's just part of the routine of life. Teaching was at first novel and challenging but my class and I have fallen into a groove and now it is just work.

Life isn't easy but it has ceased being hard. I've figured out some life hacks to make my existence here a bit easier, like boiling water the night before on leftover dinner coals and storing it in a thermos to keep from having to start a fire in the morning. Even the things that I recall being so miserable when I first came such as public transport don't feel that bad anymore.

I suppose you could say I've settled in. In fact you could potentially say I'm thriving. I love my village and feel so at home there. I hate the bomas where I am viewed as a white person with money but in my village I'm just another villager. And while that doesn't stop people from asking for things it certainly changes the dynamic. For instance I don't mind being the village shoe repair woman with my gorilla glue.

Yes, a year has changed a lot of things like the fact that I let some spiders live in my house with me and actually can squish the others. A year of village living has taught me patience and resourcefulness, it has highlighted my strengths AND my weaknesses. I have learned that there is always a silver lining, if you look in the right place. The past year has confirmed what I always knew as a universal truth; life isn't fair. It has made me realize how much I miss cheese, sour cream, and ice cream. I have learned that it is always hotter before it rains but that the rain will come, and it will bring with it blissful moisture. I've learned a whole new set of "bush skills" and a language I can't use anywhere else in the world. I have learned how to make friends anywhere and that a smile is universal. I have experienced true loneliness, missed family and friends, and then picked myself up and carried on. I've learned that positive change starts small and youth really are the future. I've learned that I can, in fact, bathe with only a kettle of water. I have realized how many conveniences that I formerly took for granted, and yet only slightly miss. I've gone from newbie to expert. Yes, a year will change a person.

Peace Corps is almost like some sort of bizarre social experiment. We remove ourselves from everything familiar and comfortable and trade it in for a mud hut and millions of developmental headaches, only the strong survive. We challenge ourselves to new levels of "who am I?" since all of our past societal factors have been removed from the question and it's just the village and you. You have good days and bad. Projects flourish and the fail. Counterparts come and go. People come and go. And there you are just trying to make some sort of difference no matter how small.

Existence out here is sometimes bizarre, often humorous (if you can laugh at yourself), and 100% unpredictable. And that's what gets me out of bed each day. It's been a year in Luapula and I dare say I'm enjoying my little village.

So here's to a year! And a very merry one to come!

 One year in Zambia

Well I'm a month late but on African time it's better late than never!

My airplane touched down and I stepped foot on Zambian soil for the first time over a year ago. My oh my, how life has changed since then. To truly summarize how much would be next to impossible but let me give you a glimpse.

1. Home is now characterized by a 4 room mud brick and thatch roof hut.  In America I lived in a 6 room Victorian home complete with plumbing and electric.

2. My village is about 5 kilometers long and lines the tarmac (road) while approx 600 people live here. In America my city of residence holds just under 440,000 people in a 5,517 square kilometer area.

3. Monday-Friday I teach English to 30 grade six pupils. I also run various clubs throughout the week addressing HIV/AIDS, life skills, and literacy. In America I spent Monday- Friday working in an office in middle management.

4. I don't mind the 7 minute walk and hour of washing dishes in a river. In America I hated having to load and unload a dishwasher!

5. I've come to terms with my arachnophobia and even let the giant wall spiders live in my house now. In America I couldn't kill a tiny house spider.

6. I go to bed no later than 8 most nights and typically crawl into bed to escape the mosquitoes and other creepy crawlies by 7pm. In America I routinely stayed up until 10-12 doing things.

7. I say hello more times a day than I can count since greeting is a big part of the culture here. In America I only had to greet a person once.

8. My yard is the hangout spot for village kids and I even built them a tree swing. In America I was not at all a "kid person."

9. If I want to eat I have to start a fire and cook a meal. In America I ate so much fast and prepackaged food.

10. I make $200 a month and live comfortably. In America I made 40k a year and struggled to pay bills.

11. To get somewhere I either have to hitch a ride with a random vehicle or ride a bicycle. In America I could hop into my car and drive anywhere I needed.

12. I routinely reuse or burn my trash here. In America I hauled it to the curb weekly to pile up in a landfill.

13. My primary form of entertainment is reading. In America I hardly ever read for pleasure, preferring TV or socializing during down time.

14. I now stumble my way through an awkward mix of English and Bemba to attempt to communicate with neighbors. In America I could just download an app to translate anything foreign.

15. I've learned how to slow down a bit here and take time to "smell the roses." In America everything was far too fast paced to divert from a schedule.

16. Here I see other non-African people maybe once a month, and the site of an unfamiliar one sparks heightened interest. In America I was one of many white folk.

17. I can't walk around a Boma (town) here without being harassed. In America I could show up naked to a bar full of drunks and receive less attention (not actually a tested statement).

18. Here time is finite since I know my service will come to a close and so I try to plan projects to fit them into each season before I leave. In America I never had to think about time in the same way.

19. I enjoy so much nature and wildlife here. In America we have killed off many bugs and creatures in our city life.

20. Almost every morning I start the day by having a devotional time. In America I was always on the go and seldom made time for myself.

Life here is so different in many ways but the simplicity of life in the bush is refreshing. I have learned so many important lessons in this last year and witnessed the night and day differences of a developing nation compared to an established one. I'm sure that in the coming year I will continue to grow and learn and see the world with ever changing eyes. But for now I am, and will forever be, eternally grateful for this experience, for all the good days and the bad. I wouldn't trade my time in the village for the most luxurious life on the planet. Here's to one more year of goats bleating, babies crying, children learning, mothers smiling, walking through tall grass on dirt paths, and loving life.

Zam Travel

Oh the places you'll go!
That is if you have an abundance of time, no sense of smell, and don't mind being canned like a sardine in a sorta seat.

23 in a minibus

Welcome to Zambian travel my friends.
The norm here is hitch hiking which isn't exactly like it sounds. Hitching usually implies a free ride and I seldom get those. But if you want to catch a ride in the middle of the bush you stand on a road and wave your arm/hand until someone stops. Sometimes it's a bus, other times it's a private vehicle, and occasionally they are big rigs (though I don't flag those). They stop, you tell them a destination, they tell you to get in, you ask for a price, they say don't worry about it (this is a trick, always negotiate before), you agree on a price that is usually half of what they asked for originally, people and bags are shifted to make room where there is none, and you cram yourself into that space hoping the door will shut or if it's a bus you cram in hoping there is actually a seat, and then you are off- that is until the next person waving down a ride. The process continues on as people (inevitably the ones in the back corner) get off and others get on until you finally reach your destination. Rides range from a truck bed to a leather seat with a seat belt, its all in the luck of the day.

An average ride to Mansa, the provincial capital, takes me about an hour and a half on a good day. I go at least once a month to get money from the atm and groceries when we get paid. From Mansa you can get to Lusaka by way of a charter bus that charges 150 kwacha for the 13-15 hour ride (if you don't break down). These bus rides are dreaded and cram you into a seat that even the tiniest of human could not comfortably fit all the while blaring Zampop or more often Bemba worship songs. The worst part is I can sing along now. You would think that means I've ridden the bus too much which is only partly true; it's more a matter of the fact that the same cd gets played on repeat the entire trip. If you are lucky you will get a seat next to a reasonably sized Zambian who prefers to sleep. If fortune is not in your favor you end up with a half of a seat and a screaming baby in your lap while everyone's bags whack you in the head as they squish down the isle you are practically seated in. These buses make scheduled stops to load and unload passengers at major bomas/towns. They tell you they are leaving in 5 minutes, 20 minutes later everyone tries to frantically board the bus as it's pulling out.

On occasion I've had the pleasure of decent conversation with a fluent English speaking Zambian, though I've also experienced the displeasure of fluent drunk Zambians who like to point out that Obama is President and that I'm going to marry them and take them to America. The people you share very close quarters with for short to long rides rang from teachers & government workers, to farmers & children.

And then there is the cargo. I've sat on crates of bottles, I've had live chickens on my feet. I've seen more giant blankets and suitcases crammed into precarious places than I could ever wish for. Zambags (a large heavy duty reusable shopping bag) full of who-knows-what. Mini-buses crammed with bags of mealie meal (maize) and tute (cassava). 18-wheelers stacked high with Zambians balancing on their bags of charcoal to sell at the market. Bicycles heading to their new homes in the village. New farm tools like hoes & the occasional wheel barrow. The items transported here run the gammet!

I once got a hitch from a Zambian who had been to my hometown. When he asked what state I was from and I replied with Colorado he asked, "like Colorado Springs?" I turned my water bottle proudly displaying my Mountain Chalet sticker with Colorado Springs underlined and we both laughed at what a small world it is. Later he even proceeded to show me our new $100 bill! I thought it was monopoly money! When I asked what I owed him his sweet reply was; "how can I charge a sister that is teaching my people and speaking my language?" I didn't argue. We still keep in touch on Facebook.

People overcharge us the minute they see white skin not knowing that we live here and know the prices but we also get some pretty nice charity sometimes when people find out who we are and what we do. Zambians appreciate volunteers because they bring aid to the people but they are always particularly fascinated that we live in the bush with them for two years. This fact alone means that just about every car ride involves the same conversation. Come to think of it I should just record the questions and answers and hit play on my phone when I get into a new vehicle where they don't know me. It would save me a lot of brain power struggling to hear which question is next through the blaring music or wind howling through cracked windows all while deciphering the accent.

I've made it a common practice to wave at every vehicle that passes on the tarmac/road as I walk to school every day never knowing when one them might just be my next ride.
On the upside, flying economy from now on will be a luxury!

Tai Chi for bush living

Tai Chi is not merely a martial art practiced by those who subscribe to a dowist lifestyle, and it certainly isn't just exercise for the old guys at the YMCA. Tai Chi is a way of life. A way of commanding one's body toward health, relaxation, and a better quality of life and movement. Tai Chi is moving meditation. Sure the art form teaches self defense and can be a good workout but it is so much more. Everyone I know who has really given tai chi a chance has a story of self exploration, healing, or positive change.

Back in the states I would attend classes under the wonderful Shifu Michael Paler (if you are in Colorado Springs look up his school). Under Michael I learned so many amazing things and each week/class was a new realm of discovery. It was here in only a short 6 months I learned how to relax my body and orient my posture. I learned technique and form.I learned how much stronger and more flexible tendons and ligaments are than muscle. It was in class that I finally learned how to quiet my busy mind. It was in class I learned how to live and love more fully. Tai Chi taught me to appreciate my slightly overweight frame I had always struggled to love. It taught me to be thankful for my health and mobility.

When I moved to Zambia I had grand notions of practicing my newly found art form daily and continuing my journey on my own. Those hopes were quickly crushed with a tiring PST regiment for the first 3 months, followed by a hellishly hot season for the next 3 months in which I only wanted to press against the cool concrete floor. With the circumstances pushing me further and further from my original goal I was becoming a bit disappointed in myself and my lack of discipline. Occasionally, I slept wrong and my neck was a bit sore so I'd do some tai chi stretching to loosen things up and relieve the pain but I wasn't doing my normal 30 minute warm-up and form. Occasionally, I still chastised myself for not "practicing" more but I've come to realize that while I may not practice my tai chi I instead live it.

Every day both consciously and unconsciously I put into practice the many aspects of tai chi I worked so hard to learn. My form has changed from 24 count to the every move of daily living. Bush living is demanding. We are subsistence farmers, teachers with limited resources, health workers with no vehicles, skilled tradesmen with hand tools, we haul our water from a river, fight the earth to bring forth food, and spend the days making something from nothing. Ironically, because of this lifestyle these kids know what I had to relearn in my mid 20's- how to use your body. It sounds crazy and intuitive but it's not. Our western life has us hunched over keyboards, lounging on a couch, or working out with machines that aren't the best for our anatomy.

The women here carry large loads on their heads often without hands, and more commonly with a baby strapped to their backs. They are crazy strong and usually pretty skinny. The math doesn't seem to add up, unless you understand how to really use your body. In training PC cautioned us from carrying water on our heads because there have been too many neck injuries as a result. I've heard several PCVs tell me they don't carry heavy things on their head because their neck muscles aren't strong enough. Ironically, it has nothing to do with strength, it's all about posture. I take all the misaligned kinks out of my body and simply let gravity do the heavy lifting. I can carry loads on my head that I can't even lift to my head. It is so incredible how our anatomy really works. When you learn to relax all those tight muscles and let your tendons do the work it becomes almost effortless. I still can't balance the buckets of sloshing water like these incredible women but I have accomplished my goal of carrying things like a local. As an added bonus they still chuckle when I lift buckets up to my head to haul back from the river.

Carrying things on my head was the major goal I wanted to accomplish through use of tai chi but as I said before I find it's flowing into every aspect of my daily existence. When I swing my braiser I rotate from my hips instead of over extending my arm. I recently realized I can even practice being "pung" while pouring my kettle. I squat I-don't-know-how-many times per day, something that I couldn't have done for more than a few seconds back home. I find myself tensing up when dealing with frustrating people on buses but then I make a conscious effort to relax. I wish I could say that made travel tolerable, which is doesn't, but it does prevent me from the pain often associated with a long crammed bus ride.

I was worried when I came to Zambia about not having a chiropractor to see here but I've now gone the longest period in my adult life without chiropractic care and I've never felt better. The benefits of tai chi for both  body and mind are numerous and I can't imagine how much different my existence here in the bush might have been without this knowledge. While my experience back in the states was rejuvenating and even healing for some physical ailments, here it is just down right necessary.