3 Days & Counting…

Only three days left until we swear in as full-time Peace Corps Volunteers! Unfortunately, I have been a bit sick for the last couple of days and my language proficiency test went very poorly this morning. My instructor was kind, but did mention that I did not seem myself—perhaps he noticed when I misunderstood his family question and answered that I had five children instead of saying I am the oldest of five children. Then, he proceeded to inquire about why I’m not married, which in English is hard enough to explain, and I fumbled for several minutes with my pieces of vocabulary to tell him that I didn’t marry so I could work in Peace Corps! This wasn’t a good enough explanation for him since we have a married couple in our training group, so I just said that at home I was too busy between work and school and friends. He said that didn’t make any sense to him since I had time in the evenings, and the language exchange broke down altogether. I then mumbled through a few statements about my work in the Peace Corps, etc. and generally forgot more than I remembered of the words I’ve been practicing for several weeks. So, I’ll find out on Thursday if I have to retake the test. To make myself feel better about my dreadful performance this morning, I will write out the first goal of the Peace Corps in my local language.

Kukwasha byalo bikebekwa bukwasho bwa bukomo. I know you’re impressed.

Yesterday I went home early after our final presentation for technical training and lay in bed for most of the afternoon and evening and just stared at the “ceiling”, or trash bag hanging under the thatched roof, and listened to the roaches and my mouse play. I did finish reading my novel, which was nice, and spent some decent time catching up on sleep. I’ve actually had a bit more time than I expected to read during PST and the PC Trainees have been great about exchanging books once we’re finished with them. Since our days end at sundown (approximately 7:00 p.m.!) there is not a whole lot to do between nightfall and sleep except read, study, and write letters. I try not to write too many letters when I’m feeling a blue, so I find it works better to just immerse myself in a book. The only downside to this is that I often fall asleep with my headlamp on and wake up in a couple hours cursing myself for wasting precious precious battery power. I’ve decided to keep track what I’ve read while in Zambia and I am going to try to add a very nerdy book list to this blog if the network stops crashing every few minutes.

Books are incredibly expensive in Zambia and they are a rare commodity. I went into the bookstore in Lusaka on Sunday to take a look around and was amazed to see that the cheapest paperback runs about 45,000 kw. Sure, this is only about $10 USD, but for the average rural Zambian, this amount is exorbitant. One of the projects I’m most interested in is a regional library since I strongly believe in the advantages of reading and exposing readers to literature. My counterpart is also very interested in such a project, but the logistical complications are a nightmare, and it will take me a while to fully discover whether or not this project is feasible and if it’s really a priority in my two year commitment here.

The rains are starting to subside and we will be heading into the cold season soon. I’m still not certain if cold means cold the way I think of it in Colorado, but both Americans and Zambians have assured me that my long underwear and hat will be necessary in a couple of months. While I’m sweating in the hot Zambian sun, this seems unbelievable! My new little—and I emphasize the little-- hut is equipped with a tin roof, a status symbol in the village, but an amenity that serves to bake the inhabitant, so I have a feeling I’ll be nice and toasty for a while. Perhaps when cold season gives way to hot season, I’ll be wishing for a thatched roof!

This morning my foot went through the latrine floor after my morning trip to “wash my knees” (a Zambia euphemism). Since I can’t possibly think of anything worse than having the pit latrine cave in while I’m inside, I’m now walking across the path to my friend’s pit latrine when necessary. The Zambians absolutely do not talk about bodily functions in any way or even appear to ever need use of the latrine, so I have to take a walk of shame, toilet paper roll glaring in my hand, any time nature calls.

I’m going to dash now while the network appears to be up… I’ll write again from Solwezi after swear in!

Final Week of Training!

First, I want to say thank you to Jenny-Jenny, Frank & Angie, Aurelia, Mom and Dad, Sis. Bass, and Cynthia for the packages!! They all came this week and it was fabulous! I felt so spoiled, and I shared the wealth with my training group yesterday. We were all starving for some American junk food and the packages came right on time. M&Ms and Pringles have never tasted so great. Also, I finally got some letters that had been delayed for a while and I’m going to have a lot of fun catching up on writing once I get posted. So if you are waiting for a response from me, I will be doing a ton of writing when I arrive in Mufumbwe, and will fill you in on the personal details then.

Yesterday we had our American culture day where we had the opportunity to honor our host families for taking care of us for the last eight weeks. Part of the program was to cook an American feast, which actually ended up being mostly Mexican food—burritos, guacamole, beans—and bbq chicken with garlic mashed potatoes. I was incredibly impressed with how the food prep came together since we started with very minimal amenities: one four burner stove top, a few braziers, a grill, some plates, no real knives. Since we were feeding 150 people, I thought we’d have to eventually just throw our hands up and serve raw veggies, but after spending hours with a Leatherman chopping bell peppers, onions, and garlic cloves into tiny pieces for the mashed potatoes, the feast came together. Our group just pitched in and got the work done with very little in the way of organization, a tremendous feat.

Our families also sang us songs and presented us with gifts. The Americans sang the national anthem (awful) and the Zambians sang us their national anthem (in harmony). I received two bowls from my family, which I intend to use as cereal bowls once I get posted. I also had to recite a thank you speech our language group wrote for our families. The speech went much better than expected; the Kaondes in our village were very excited to hear their language spoken even though I was stilted and slow. Our final language proficiency exam is on Tuesday and I’m quite nervous. We had a mock exam on Friday and I passed, but Tuesday will be the first time I’ll really be speaking in a continuous manner in the local language to someone other than my language teacher for thirty minutes. Agh! Wish me well. My tata made me feel a bit better this morning when he came by to tell me that he was very proud of my language accomplishment.

I called my sister yesterday at 3:00 a.m. Colorado time because I’ve been ridiculously homesick this week. I’m still very pleased with my decision to be here, but I miss hot showers, pop culture, clean couches, and access to technology. I miss my family and my close friends so much my heart is in my throat just writing the words. I had a minor meltdown on Tuesday night when my ba mama came into feed me nshima. I felt terrible to be crying over my meal, when I can’t explain to her why I’m crying and that it has nothing to do with her or how well they are taking care of me or really anything about Zambia. I needed the instant gratification of a telephone call, so I rang D up in the middle of the night to just say hello. (Thank you, Celtel!)

It’s difficult to be split between the half of myself that feels fulfilled and challenged by this experience and the longing for the people who mean so much to me at home.

I finish up training this week and I’m ready to move on to the next phase of my Peace Corps life. I’ll be writing again soon from my new home.

p.s. I have had no end of trouble trying to upload photos. Someday I’ll get the system figured out, so until then I’ll keep snapping away.

Heading Back to Chongwe

Today is our final day in Solwezi and we’ll be returning to Lusaka on the 6:00 a.m. bus tomorrow with our language trainers. Our very kind trainer has invited the three of us Kaonde learners to stay with him in his home with his family for the evening tomorrow and go into Lusaka on Sunday for a final day in the city before we head into our final two weeks of training. Then, pause for a drumroll please, we will be heading off to our lives. I’m fortunate in that we are taking a proper bus tomorrow, so I will get the spoiled bwana treatment of riding sans animals and getting a place in my own seat. Also I’ve learned the great art of hanging out a bus window with 1 or 2 pin (one or two thousand kwacha) and yelling at the street vendors for biscuits (cookies) or soda for the ride when we make our short stops so I don't get too hungry.

For those of you who don’t know, Solwezi is about an eight hour bus ride from Lusaka and my village is about a five hour bus/car/lorry/ox cart ride from Solwezi. They have recently improved the roads, so if any of you are planning to visit me at my site—you know you want to!—the best way to get here is rent a 4-wheel drive after the rainy season and drive. Although many people have friends and family visit them from the states, the trip from Lusaka to my site is nothing to sneeze at. Some of you may want to simply meet me in Lusaka and then travel together to a national park for some fantastic game viewing.

I know a few of you have sent email, and yes, I’m responding when I can. Internet access here tends to be slow and expensive, so I prioritize my time online to write in this blog and then respond to emails as I can. I have been writing letters nearly every day that are far more personal than this blog, and you should be receiving those soon. So even though I often don’t respond to email, or it takes weeks for me to get back with you, I do read them and it makes me feel very loved to hear from you no matter the form of communication.

There is little new to report here. I’m having a few minor medical issues; I think my body is finally over the adrenaline rush of getting here and is complaining about the lifestyle. I have a nasty spider bite on my leg that looks crusty, a mole on my face peeled off, my sunburn is cracking in great brown blotches, I have a toothache, I’m sneezing from the dust, and my stomach has been pretty sensitive and puffy. Of course I’ve also been eating an enormous amount of dairy products in the last few days since I have access to ice cream at a tuck shop and a fridge where we can store milk/chocolate/cheese at the Solwezi house. My ailments can probably be prevented with closer care of insect repellant, pajama pants, sunscreen, vehement flossing after every meal, allergy medication, and proper attention to diet. I’m turning into a crispy dirty hag, but I’m also having the time of my life.

Tonight the previous group of volunteers is passing the baton on to us, the newbies. I’m impressed that after two years in Zambia, the PCVs of NW province have such tremendous self-confidence and have created such close bonds with the other members of the Peace Corps community. It’s going to be a great two years.

I’ll write again after training! Peace Be With You All.
Stacey J.

Street Children and Shawarma

Still in Solwezi and desperately needing a nap! My group and I spent hours last night preparing a Mexican feast and then played a improvised game of Scattergories. This week has been a nice break from the training routine and an opportunity to spend more quality time with the friends we’ll be depending on for in-country support through the next two years.

For lunch we’ve begun a ritual of getting shawarma and chips from a fabulous take away place near the Peace Corps house after language training and then traveling up to a little ice cream shop for a soft serve break. I find it difficult, however, as a moderately chubby American woman to eat my shwarma and swirled cone blissfully when hungry street kids are standing 20 feet away from our table begging. I learned on our first site visit that some of the street kids sniff their own urine and feces in an attempt to get high and stave off their hunger pangs. There are no easy answers in how to respond to the great need of these kids—some of them are as young as six or seven—and I internally wrestle with my moral obligation to give them help.

Yesterday, I went to the grocery story to get items for dinner and discovered that our town has a shortage of eggs. So leaving my friend in the store to fend for herself in the Zambian queues (most Zambians completely ignore line protocol), I went out to the road stand to get a few eggs for breakfast pancakes. I saw the street kids that have taken to following us around Solwezi and asked them in my abysmal Ki Kaonde, “Make kwepi?” (Where are the eggs?) So the kids then nominated themselves as my egg scavengers. They were able to locate a stand in the food market with eggs when it would have taken me hours. At one point, a woman from one of the shops yelled at them to leave the Muzungu lady alone, but I was able to let her know that they were with me. I paid them in sweeties for their services, but I know that this did not fill their bellies. They asked me for ice cream and I denied it because the need does not end with my assistance. I believe this will be a personal struggle for the duration of my time in Africa, but I am getting some comfort, albeit very small comfort, in that the work I will do in education hopefully brings sustainable assistance to the children in the Northwest province.

I’m enjoying my access to electricity and the internet this week! I hope to post with a few anecdotes and thoughts until I return back to training this weekend. I experienced the miracles of the internet yesterday when I sent my folks an email to let them know that I would have my phone on this week and they called me five minutes later. Technology is fabulous.

Mushale Bulongo. Remain Well.
Stacey J.

Finally Time to Blog

Our week at the provincial house has been relaxing and much needed. Our language classes take place in the morning for a few hours and then we either have a cultural discussion in the afternoon or time to study, shop, read, or blog! Last night the six of us brand new Northwestern PCTs made an impromptu dinner of fried soya pieces, spaghetti sauce and macaroni and it was fabulous. Our dinner plans were shifted a bit because the grocery store had closed for a holiday, National Youth Day, and we had to think of what to make with the few groceries we had left over from our site visit. Tonight I’m going to try my hand at making chocolate chip cookies and soya fajitas. After weeks of eating unfamiliar food, communally cooking American food is a blast. We’ll see how I do in my hut when I’m preparing for just myself.

I decided to write today a bit more about my job, my community, and my new home.
I had the opportunity to talk with the head teacher at the school where I’ll be based. The basic school is a government school for 1st through 8th grade and I’m very impressed with the head teacher’s level of personal ambition for his own education and his drive for finding resources for his kids. There are 1300 students who are registered and only six school rooms to house them all. The school lacks space, teachers, and funding in general. My community has suffered greatly from the loss of lives to AIDS and most families do not have the 12,000 kw/term for each of their children to attend school consistently.

Zambian families are extremely tight and count the children of their siblings as their own. This causes those of us who have been trained to accept the nuclear family as norm no end of confusion when we see strange children in our yard that call themselves a “sister”/”brother” to the children we live with and see every day. It’s nearly impossible to decipher the family relationships in American terms of a two parent family with a series of children. Because of this, most families simply adopt the orphans of other families members who have passed on from either HIV related illnesses or other diseases as part of their own family unit, making some families very large. Since most villagers do not actually have a salary, but live off their land and get cash only once a year during harvest, finding funding is extraordinarily difficult.

In this challenging environment, my primary job will be to help with capacity building in getting a resource center established at my school that can aid in zonal and district level administration. Without getting into acronyms and job specifics, I will be working to assist with teacher trainings, aid in monitoring schools within my district’s jurisdiction, facilitating HIV/AIDS awareness classes, discussing options for generating income to help support teacher training (etc.), help track the community schools in our area that use IRI for education, and really be the go-to person for my school. From all the training we’ve received from PC, my general understanding of my position is to listen to my community, figure out what I can assist with, and then get in on grassroots development. I’m terrified and thrilled about the challenge.

I’m attempting to get some photos uploaded, but the network keeps crashing here in this internet café, so I may be successful in only getting one or two up. I will try to include a photo of my new home.

I will be living right on the compound of a carpenter, his wife, and four beautiful children. Because it’s rainy season, much of my house is incomplete, but I was able to see the framework of my teeny tiny hut and make some suggestions. I have just asked to put in some windows so if a spitting cobra comes to visit my house, I’ll be able to see it immediately from the door. The carpenter I’m living next to is busy building a bed frame, table and chair, bookshelves, and a clothes shelf so I'll be at home when I arrive in April. I’m thinking of how to Martha Stewart my home in a way that makes it most comfortable for the next two years without very many resources.

Many of you have inquired about sending American things my way. I have heard through the grapevine that I’ll be getting a few packages in “anytime from now,” (one of my favorite Zambian sayings, and I thank you, thank you, thank you in advance. It can feel very isolating to be away from technology, news, and familiar people, so getting mail and packages from home feels like a wonderful holiday!

Here’s my wish list:

Granola bars
Snack foods
Add water foods: Easy Mac, Soups, Etc.
American shampoo/conditioner
Body spray
Batteries (AAA or AA)
CDs or DVDs (I have a portable CD player and access to a DVD at the provincial house.)
Disinfectant wipes/Anti-bacterial gel
Photos!!!!!! (Preferably laminated or in a cover so they don’t get destroyed by dust or water.)
Chocolate
Hard Candy
Spices (Tony’s spice makes even nshima taste good)
Olive Oil
Lotion
Velveeta Cheese

I’m off again to do some studying and will report again as soon as I can. Just two more weeks until I swear in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer! Hoorah!

Stacey J.

Polygamy, Lories, and Mendelssohn

This is the first time I’ve had internet for weeks, so I apologize for the delay in updating. So much has happened that I will never get a chance to write it all here, but I promise that if you have sent me snail mail—and I’ve received it!!—then I have mailed you personally with an update. And I aplogize up front for any spelling or grammatical errors, but I'm in a huge rush since every second counts up the kwacha!

First, I finally got my actual assignment for my work in the next two years! Please do not send mail into Lusaka anymore, because in three weeks I’ll be living just outside of the town of Mufumbwe in the Northwest Province of Zambia! (Please see the address at the bottom of the page.) I had the chance to go visit the volunteer I’m replacing this past week and had a great time making new friends and learning new skills like how to make a fire in a brazier and then cook on the coals. I discovered I’m one amazing tortilla and pancake artist. Perhaps it’s because the American way of cooking on stove and using a million ingredients or because I have access to Sonic and Whole Foods, or that I’ve been eating only for energy while I’ve been in training, but while I found a million ways to avoid cooking at home, I found myself loving the process here and have made fabulous curry, tortillas, banana chocolate chip pancakes, and almond syrup to show for it... Mom: I took pictures of this process just for you!

We are finally wrapping up training for Peace Corps and I’m looking forward to being an adult again and taking care of myself. I have some great home stay stories, but I’m longing to get to work and start establishing myself in my community. It may help that I had a very bizarre week before traveling to Mufumbwe and part of this was due to the lovely family I’ve been staying with.

Some of you may recall that when I arrived in Zambia I did not have a home stay mother. Since gender roles are strictly defined, this meant that I did not really have anyone to make meals or help me with washing or heating water for bathing. After about three days of being in a nearby neighbor’s care, a woman showed up that started bringing me meals. I was so nervous and excited that I didn’t really notice her absence and sudden appearance. Fast forward five weeks. I was sitting at my table attempting to study Ki Kaonde and learning nothing quickly. My “parents” were attending a family funeral and my “brothers” had just brought me a lovely bowl of peas for dinner and had gone to bed. Outside my hut was this incredible commotion and a woman yelling “Odi! Odi!” (Let me in.) Since everyone was away, I did the brave and noble thing. I put all my bags in front of the door and turned up my music and ignored the person and just studied while the roof shook a bit and voices yelled. I was Noah in the Ark. I finally fell asleep around midnight and when I woke in the morning and asked my TaTa what had happened, he just replied in Zam fashion, “it has been taken care of.”

So I went to language training and asked my instructor if he knew what trouble was brewing in the Kaonde family. He then told me the story that had been withheld on a Need To Know Basis. Here it goes:

My tata had a large family, but his wife passed away in 1999. All of his children are from this first wife. He remarried. This wife was his wife until he opted to have a PC volunteer (moi) and she did not want to keep an American in her home. She left. I arrived. A third wife appeared to take care of me. The second wife then returns to kick out wife number three, but did not know that I live in the original family home. So after much yelling at my house, some stone throwing, and a family brawl, wife number three is here to stay.

The best part of this story: no one seems dazed by this except myself.

Every day in Zambia is an adventure. Yesterday I had to hitchhike with my Peace Corps neighbor in the Mufumbwe district back to our provincial home for a week of intense language and cultural training. We woke at 6:00 a.m. to bike at sunrise down into the boma to try and get transport. (My current favorite Zambian activity: biking through the bush. Awesome.) When we arrived into town, we sat on the side of the road for three hours waiting for a ride when a lorry truck pulled in and said we could hop on for a fee. The back was piled with Mealy Meal and a couple women, but it looked like enough room for the two of us. By the end of the trip, I was perched on the Mealy Meal with 25 Zambians, a chicken, and three feet of luggage without any sunblock on going about 30 mph on the open road through the bush. I had to pause and think of my new life as an adventurer. I particularly missed my brother, Jeremy, when I thought of how much joy he would take in such a ride!

We are at the provincial home for a week and I’m eating everything I see. The Peace Corps sets up a house for each province where the volunteers can go every month to use the phone, stay in a real bed, use the internet, cook on a stove, and take a shower, and so this week we are using it as a training base and a way to get familiar with all of our neighbors. Tonight we are making lasagna and chocolate chip cookies and I’m going to read to my heart’s content. The provincial home also houses a library of all the books that volunteers have read and did not want to take home with them when the returned to America. Hundreds of books. And time to read. Wow.

I love my new home. I will write more of this later. I’m only a few clicks from the school I’ll be basing from and a few from my town. The town has an amazing perk: a BAKERY! The American missionaries who live on a compound outside the town has shared recipes with a Zambian woman who has started making cakes and banana bread for the community. I stopped in for a piece of chocolate cake the other day and the woman looked at me and said, “you will be my best customer. You and that other boy.” (Meaning my Peace Corps neightbor). Yes, I will be her best customer. Mufumbwe also has power (most of the time), has a little outdoor place to play pool, a guest house that will rent me showers!, and a beautiful main road lined with gorgeous trees. I’ve met several wonderful people and sat in on the choir practice for the New Apostolic Church of Zambia yesterday. Amazing. The choir was learning complicated classical pieces by listening to an instructor who read the music from a sheet-without using a pitch pipe. I was welcomed warmly and sat on the front pew beaming for more than an hour.

I’m running out of time here. I will return sometime this week to add thoughts and post pictures. I miss you all and I think of you every day.

With all my love,
Stacey Jean.