You're never really clean in Zambia

No matter how much you try: you're never really clean in Zambia. It doesn't matter if you've taken the most thorough bucket bath of your life and scrubbed every nook and cranny. The minute you rinse off and step out of of your bathing shelter into the dust or mud your feet are instantly dirty again. Along the same lines your clothes are never really clean either. They may look and smell mostly presentable but the minute you stick that dirty foot through your legging or pant leg they are once again dirty. It's just a fact of life here.
I scrub my feet with my leftover dirty bathwater. We do dishes in what quickly becomes a dirty bowl of wash water followed by an only slightly less gross bucket of rinse water. The laundry water is a bit counter intuitive as you scrub your clothes with nothing less than soapy watered down mud by the end of the bucket. Of course much like the dishes the first couple pieces of clothing get a nice rinsing but after that you are really just diluting the soap and dirt combo that has been rubbed into the deep pores of the fabric by harsh hand washing. Sure your clothes might be stain free and mostly smell like nothing but they dry stiff from the lingering soapy dirt clinging to the fibers.
Even after I shower I dry myself off with a chitenge that in the same day might've been used on the ground, around my waist, on my head or quite possibly all three.
The good news is that no one in the villages has running water to keep clothes supremely clean and even those that are fortunate enough to bathe in a concrete shelter have to step on the same dusty ground at some point. So despite the fact that I'm more hygienic here than I ever was in the states I think it's a safe bet to say I'm never exactly clean here in Zambia.

You are too fat!

One major cultural difference that may come as a shock upon arrival is the difference in what is perceived as beautiful. Here is Zambia, at least the more rural areas, being fat is a sign of health and wealth. If someone says "you are looking fat today" the appropriate response is thank you!
Now for a slightly larger women coming from the media blitz of American commercialism this was a bit hard to wrap my brain around. For the last 27 years everything around me told me that being "fat" was ugly and unhealthy. So needless to say the first time I was referred to as fat my mind did a bit of a double take.
And then again just a week ago. I asked if there was a better way to tie/wrap my chitenge and my host mother's reply was "you are too fat!"
Yikes! I'm what? Oh right that's a good thing here. What a contrast.So this weight and beauty image I struggle with in the states is all of the sudden the picture of beauty. This body I've abused trying to maintain is suddenly the key to my survival. With no mirror and only stretchy waistbands on skirts and leggings I have no way to gauge my weight situation. No scale to track my impending doom as I did in America. And best yet; no media advertisements to compare myself with. All of a sudden my gauge of health becomes simply "can I complete the tasks I need to?"
At first the answer to this new metric was no; but as the days pass and I ride my bike, carry heavy buckets of water, and use this gift I was given, the answer shifts a little more each day. To my mother's dismay I'm still only eating one lump of n'shima and while I'm not changing physically I think the change is coming mentally.
It's amazing how much easier it is to love yourself when comparison and judgment are removed. I think the next time someone says "you are looking fat today" I'll sincerely be able to reply "Thank You!"

Bush Routines

Every morning they sweep the whole compound...

Bamaaya (mother) washing dishes

Chimbusu (pit toilet) and bathing hut (right)

Bataata (father), Eunice and Phades (sisters)

My Hut during training..

Sisters

My sister said I could only carry one jug....

Phades.. Three jugs of water!

Sunday Morning breakfast... July 2014

Home Sweet Home

I'm getting used to the routines here in suburbia Zambia. The chickens running around the compound when I first get up, the cat begging for my breakfast each morning (and me sneaking the leftover of my boiled egg to him), the pieces of thatch that randomly fall from my roof in the middle of the night, my sisters cooking at the fire when I come home each evening, the boys yelling at the cows as they haul water back on the ox cart each afternoon, the songs coming from the darkness each night, and OH the stars!
I'm getting used to squatting; squatting to use a hole for a toilet, squatting to bathe, squatting to cook, squatting to write on the lowest part of the chalkboard (in a dress), squatting to repair my bicycle, and so on. The routines around here are mostly predictable but then again there is what I like to call ZamCulture and you never know who will join you by the fire at night, or stop by to ask for some veggies, or delay your path to talk for a while.
Even things like ducking to enter any enclosure have become routine habits. And the sweeping; my favorite exercise in futility! No matter how much you sweep there is more dirt/ thatch/ or bugs 5 minutes later, it doesn't matter if it is inside or outside.
These routines become common place, they become life- and at a surprisingly quick rate. I find that on those rare, still, and quiet nights when there are no jubilent songs drifting through the night air that the day somehow feels incomplete. Even as I write this I smile at the songs of the drunk man outside. It may not be as pretty as the normal hyms I hear but the music of the night has become routine and even the songs of the drunk are part of this crazy routine here in Zambia that I like to call life.

Zam Twitter- June 2014

They say the best form of flattery is imitation and I sure hope that is true as this idea is stolen, errr I mean borrowed from a fellow Zambian volunteer. Check out Matt's blog at www.fishinginzambia.wordpress.com.

June 2014-

6/9/14-Woke up early to leave for the airport. Stopped and had my last chick-fil-a meal on the way.

6/10/14- Took my last shower for a while at the hotel in Philidelphia during staging.

6/11/14- "I'm sitting in Newark airport waiting to check my massive luggage after a sleepless night."

6/12/14- Zambia Day 1. Spider rules to live by which had to be employed night 1: If it lays flat against the wall you want them around, if they stand up off the wall, kill it.

6/16/14- First site visit to Maureen's site in Southern province. Met a cheif while dropping off other volunteers.

6/18/14- Learned how to milk a cow; I'm not particularly good at it.

6/19/14- I'm not used to seeing so many unattended children walking the roadside.

6/20/19- Said goodbye to quite possibly the nicest host family in all of Southern! Shout out to Ba Levius and Ba Ellen. They were so sweet telling us we were part of the family and should come back to see them anytime.

6/20/14- Said hello to a new host family and a spider infested hut for my 12 week training program.

6/21/14- Got brave and waged war on the spiders.

6/22/14- The wind was so strong it blew off chunks of my thatch roof. I now have a Zambian sun light.

6/23/14- Start of language training. I'm learning bemba which means I don't yet know where I'll be placed.

6/24/14- Feeling frustrated, seems like training is all or nothing. A day filled with too much important info or worthless common sense sessions.

6/25/14- I can see my breath this morning. I underestimated African winters.

6/27/14- Giant tarantula spotted directly in my path to the chimbusu. Assessed the size of the spider and my sandled feet. Decided in favor of the spider after visuals of it running up my leg if I tried to stomp it. Spoke outloud to the spider (you do crazy things in Africa) "Ok Mr. Trantula, you are going to go back to the bush and NOT my hut; and I'm going to go this other way and pretend this never happened."

6/29/14- So much wind! I thought the tin roof of my host family's house might just blow off!