Closing & Opening Doors: The end of my village life

"I wish I could tell you the secret to being forever young, but no one's figured that out yet. But if you see the glass half full, simplify your life, and give yourself to a worthy cause, you will be forever happy." --Bert Jacobs

After 2 fleeting years of village life in Eastern Province, my service has finally come to an abrupt end. Looking back, it’s hard to believe that I spent two years living in the African bush, but even more difficult to understand where the time went. Through all the challenges, hardships, accomplishments and victories, I can confidently say that it was my greatest adventures, and that’s why I couldn’t bring myself to ending it entirely – not just yet.

Currently I’m residing in one of the more affluent sectors of Lusaka; at a desk with lighting and electricity. If I get thirsty, I walk down the hall and get water – from a faucet! And, if I really wanted to splurge (but not really), I could get ice. Things have drastically changed in the past week. No more candles or fetching water from a well, no more cooking with charcoal or living alone. I have 3 roommates, my own room, bathroom, and all the wonderful luxuries that come with a modern house.

My last few weeks in the village were tough, but I kept my sights on the future. After accepting my new position at Grassroot soccer, I looked forward to the next chapter and getting back to modern civilization. I bid farewell to village friends, my hut, consolidated all my valuable possessions, and set things up nicely for the next incoming volunteer to take over my site. The hardest thing was leaving behind my animals. My turkeys I sold, my cat I gave to my girlfriend, and my dogs I let run free as they’ve always been - the sad thing (very sad) was that they couldn’t understand that this time, I wasn’t coming back.

On my last few days, I walked around the village, handed out remembrances and said my goodbyes. Many were confused and unwilling as they had just been getting use to my presence in the village. It was emotional at times but for the most part I was ready to move on. I ate every meal with my host family and left them with sentimental parting gifts that won’t allow them to forget me so easily. They still call me every few days to tell me how much they miss me.

A lot of people hear my story about living in the village and baulk at how I managed. They’re mostly surprised at the fact that I was able to live for so long with the lack of amenities that they consider necessary. To them I say it’s not the lack of amenities that make life in the village difficult. The difficult part is developing deep relationships with others as a foreigner. Most conversation I had, from day to day was merely small talk. With neighbors and farmers, I’d greet them, ask how there day was and that’s about all. I never was a volunteer that could engage in meaningful conversations or relate genuinely with villagers because of the language barrier. There has been many monumental instances of understanding and moments of cultural linkage, and sure I could get by with what I knew, but going two years without being able to fully express yourself – on a deeper level, is a challenging feat and enough to get one excited about returning to a more familiar living situation, one where communication flows more freely.

Not only was it a flurry of weeks in which I had to say goodbye to those in my village but also fellow PC friends in my province. Those who grew with me, learned with me, failed with me and succeeded with me were all difficult to part with. But I know that life after PC will bring us together in some instance at some point back home. It’s been a wild ride and it would have been quite different without having a few of the better ones to experience it with. To those of you (you know who you are) I love you.

As for my new position with GRS, I am the Peace Corps/Grassroot Soccer coordinator for Zambia. I handled virtually all of the rural affairs for GRS with Peace Corps. My job is about conducting training, monitoring and evaluation, recording data, participating in camps, following up with volunteers and improving the partnership that is Grassroot soccer and Peace Corps. I’m still trying to find my feet in the midst of the whole transition, but each day my role becomes clearer. The important thing is that I like what I do, find it meaningful and am excited about the impact I can make in improving things. I live on the same compound as my office; I get along with my roommates, and get to play soccer competitively 3 days a week. For now life is good, and I’m sure this year will end even faster than the previous 2.

 

I do get home sick now and then, though the memory of home gets cloudier each day (America is becoming a scary thought); the weddings I’m missing, friends I haven’t kept in touch with, and family members that are living their lives without me. Facebook seems like my only window to the world I once knew. Some days are tougher than others, but what keeps me positive is the thought of a bright future with opportunity. I’m hoping that all these tough decisions will pay off and lead me to a career that I can be proud of. Commencement is the name of the game I’m playing, and it’s all about the closing and opening of doors that lead to new things..

GLOW 2014

"No nation can rise to the height of glory unless your women are side by side with you.." - Muhammad Ali Jinnah


"Know what? Bitches get stuff done.." - Tina Fey


Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) is an all girls camp run once, and sometimes twice a year through volunteer initiative in each different province throughout Zambia. It is grant funded and volunteer coordinated. Similar to ELITE - though with girls, it brings together worthy adolescents from different villages to participate in a week long camp alongside Peace Corps volunteers and Government organizations. If you have read any of my previous Blogs about either ELITE or last years GLOW then you should have an idea of what the camp entails.

Despite the Close of service ban that peace corps enacts on volunteers who are about to finish their service by requiring them to remain in their village to focus on closure, I felt 2 months was much longer then needed and rebelliously choose to participate in the camp. After all, I had already done 2 ELITE camps and felt that doing the second GLOW was only fair, and, since everybody participating in the camp hadn't done GLOW before, my experience could be a valuable asset in ensuring things go smoothly.


It was a last minute decision - mostly because I underestimated the amount to work it would take to close out my service, prepare for a new job and new living situation. Regardless, I made the camp a priority and delayed a few deadlines in order to attend. At the last minute I identified 2 girls and a counterpart only a day before the camp (each volunteer is suppose to bring a Counterpart and 2 girls from their village). I felt uneasy at fist because I hardly knew anything about the CP (Counterpart) I brought. The whole thing seemed rushed and I feared the worst regarding our relationship. A common problem at these camps is that CP's can sometimes have the notion that the whole event is about them when in fact its focused solely on the girls. Luckily it hardly amounted to an issue. Just as ideal camps develop, the girls and counterparts were shy and intimidated at first, but slowly opened up to the camp as the week progressed and understood why they were there and what we wanted them to get out of it.

I was especially proud of the two ladies who bravely volunteered to coordinated and direct the camp. One, it was their first attempt at even participating in a camp, and two, I understood how much time, energy and stress goes into a project such as this with my role as the camp ELITE director. I felt sympathetic to their burden. The camp was all in all a success and the amount of impact that we had on the girls reminded me of why I participate in secondary projects such as GLOW and ELITE. Yes they are lots of work, and require lots time and energy, and yes I could have been in my village relaxing, but the end result was worth the hassle.

The camp entailed presentations on gender norms, leadership, confidence and motivation, HIV/AIDS, malaria, journal writing, assertiveness, body awareness, early pregnancy, and the reproductive system. Though I was a participant and had little to do with the planning, I did play an instrumental role. I helped organize all the sporting activities including the Olympic games, capture the flag and final review jeopardy. I presented twice and helped straighten out some discrepancies with the budgeting and concerns we had with the facility. But make no mistake, camps like these are entirely team efforts and we all played instrumental roles in making the camp the success that it was.

To compare the camp to last years - because of the tremendous dedication the volunteers had in devoting themselves to the camp - it amounted to a more conducive camp atmosphere. The programming wasn't executed any better, but the group of volunteers that attended meshed so well throughout the camp that it surmounted to a greater learning environment and bonding experience for all - even between volunteers and girls. After each day we'd come together as a team and go over our day - what we did well and what we could have done better. We were dedicated to improvement and strove towards it as the week went on. By the final few days it was clear that our efforts had paid off and the proof was in how open and happy the girls were. They praised our efforts with songs and dance they coordinated on their own.

To sum up - my decision to attend camp GLOW less then a week before my transition into my extension was a decision I would gladly make over and over again. Camps like these have been the flagstone of my secondary projects and their impact is without a doubt substantial. I claim ELITE as a more enjoyable experience, but feel that GLOW is more important as it fosters female empowerment to girls who have little to none. I could think of no better final project to end my service on as I did with camp GLOW 2014. Thanks ladies.

Spontaneous Zanzibar Get-away

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” – St. Augustine


It struck me only a few weeks before my ‘community exit period’ would commence (a time when volunteers about to close their service are required to stay in their village and provide closure to their community for their service); I was running out of time to vacation out of country and panic mode began to set in.

Up till then, I had only been on vacation out of the country once – Malawi, and I came to the realization that I was failing at an objective that drove me into the Peace Corps to begin with – my desire to travel.

I brought my thoughts up in conversation with my girlfriend and we began brainstorming destinations that appealed to us. Turns out she too was overdue for time away – all we needed now was a plan. We discussed time we could spare from our projects, countries that appealed to us and our spending budget.

Similarly, we both loved and missed the beach, we didn't want to be on a stressful schedule and craved some fresh seafood (anything other the nshima) - All signs that pointed to a small island off the coast of Tanzania that many volunteers and vacation goers have visited frequently and spoke highly of - The island of Zanzibar.

We - but mostly her, developed an itinerary that would have us out on the white beaches of Zanzibar for 3 full days with 3 days of travel there and 3 days back. All we could really afford and spare away from our congested schedules. The final decision was made when we found affordable plane tickets that would cut out an unappealing 40 hour train ride- one way.

Our flight into Dar Es Saalam (our first leg) was all too easy which reinforced our comfort at having made the decision to fly instead of travel by train. Dar Es Saalam was a big city – much bigger and with more character then Lusaka – the Zambian capital. Perhaps the Muslim influences and Arabic architecture was to credit. I thought the city had a feel like the tenderloin district in San Francisco with the way it was structured though a bit more chaotic, with less hookers and a more conservative feel.

We took a ferry from Dar Es Saalam to Zanzibar where my city admiration was outdone once more by the awe, beauty and mystery of Stone town. The city was a maze of stone alleyways, Arabian architecture, clustered 3 story buildings, art inspiring architecture and elaborates engraved doors.

We spent the first day wandering around and deliberately getting lost. It was one of my favorite days during the trip to be entangled in such a mesmerizing array of culture and structural wonder. We shopped and indulged in some of the treats that Zanzibar had to offer including: cane sugar juice, local curry, seafood, teas, and street food. We explored some of the town’s historical sites including: the Old Portuguese fort, the house of wonders and the house where Queen lead guitarist Freddie Mercury was born.

The following day we continued our journey to the east side of the island - beach bound. Along the way, we stopped off at one of the highly recommend spice tours that gives Zanzibar its reputation as ‘The spice island’. The spice tour was well worth the hour and a half stop. We learned lots of interesting facts about many of the various spices that we use all too often in our dishes. It was in a beautiful jungle in the middle of the island surrounded by palm trees and exotic plant life. We ate various exotic fruits, were sung to by a local boy at the top of a coconut tree, learned about vanilla, turmeric, coco, coffee, pepper corn, African apples, star fruit, cinnamon and many other well-known spices. It was a tour well worth the money we spent.

We commenced our journey by heading to the east side of the island to a small village town called Bwejuu. It was quite, serene and best of all - vacant. It was also somewhat poor though not as bad as Zambia standards as the tourism industry seemed to have supported much of the community’s basic needs. We stayed in a Bungalow owned and operated by a very nice local who was more than accommodating to all our needs.

We spent the next few days just simply relaxing out on the beach, eating good food, drinking cocktails and just being ourselves with nowhere to be, an ideal vacation by my standards. We snorkeled at a nearby reef and saw a vast array of fish and sea life – though not quite as impressive as Hawaii. The water was warm, clear and the weather was favorable.

The shore break was interesting as there were no waves or swimmable waters for a few Kilometers down the beach. However the sands were soft and we found plenty of things to do on the beach to explore and occupy our time like: Frisbee, playing with children, playing music, reading, and collecting shells.

When it was time to begin our journey back to Zambia, we dragged our feet and regretted that we hadn’t planned a longer trip. Leaving those beaches was one of the hardest things I’ve had to force myself to do in quite some time.

We spent one more day in stone town trying to absorb as much of what we enjoyed on our first pass through, collected all the necessary souvenirs and ate all the delicious foods that we know we’d miss.

It all ended too sudden – except for the ferry back to Dar Es Saalam which made us both a bit regretful of our overindulgence in seafood before boarding. The oncoming waves made the ships journey back unpleasant, and not even our first class tickets could save us from our nocuous stomachs.

When we got back to Zambia it was like awakening from a wonderful dream on Monday morning. The vacation just didn’t seem long enough even though it was over a week, proving its success and how enjoyable of a time we had.

If you ever have the opportunity to venture to Zanzibar I couldn’t recommend it strongly enough. The wonderful fusion of African, Arabian and beach culture give the island amazing ambience and atmosphere that must be seen to believe. It would be a wonderful place to spend a considerable amount of time and really take in the local culture, a thought that tempted me from time to time while I was there.

I wouldn’t think twice about going back given the opportunity and I wouldn’t rule out the idea anytime soon.

Pedaling to Provs

Life is a song - sing it. Life is a game - play it. Life is a challenge - meet it. Life is a dream - realize it. Life is a sacrifice - offer it. Life is love - enjoy it. - Sai Baba


Its tough getting old - a drag as put by mick Jagger famously. It's especially rough when you're reminded this by your colleagues on the regular. Though I'm not the oldest in Eastern Province, Grandpa is what everyone knows me as, probably because I don't put up with much nonsense, say things how I see them, and have a hard time hearing when people mumble. Guilty as charged - Ill admit. But when something is said about another, constantly, for a considerable length of time, they either start believing it, or make an effort to prove it wrong.

Early on in my service, I had a veteran volunteer approach me about a bike excursion she was contemplating. The excursion would start from our district in Petauke and end in Chipata - roughly a 150 km biking trek. At the time, I was new, and the thought of all that biking didn't intrigue me much - I wasn't looking for a challenge and couldn't come up with a reason to agree to such an endeavor. Fast forward 2 years later, and the same question was asked of me again, but this time by a different volunteer.


Ask me why I agreed this time and not before and I wouldn't be able to give you reasoning; perhaps it had a bit to do with the looming reality that my service was dwindling down. Needless to say, a physical challenge of this stature seemed like an enticing way to prove that my nickname had little to do with my physical abilities and a memorable way to cap off a service.

After a bit of planning, I decided the bike excursion would be during the travel day to our bi-annual provincial meeting. It seemed like a fitting ritual for my final meeting and a challenge that would do well in disproving my elderly ways. I rallied and solicited to other volunteers, but successfully was only able to draft one other. Charles met me the night before at my site. We meticulously planned and predicted the best possible way to approach a 150km bike excursion in one day. It wouldn't be easy, but doable if we followed a strict pace with few lengthy stops.

 

We woke up around 4, prepared breakfast, and were on our way a little after 5. The weather was chilly and the winds were harsh. So harsh in fact that the first leg of the bike trek was a frustratingly demoralizing venture. To keep our mind off the horrendous weather conditions we played 20 questions and caught up with one another's life. The first leg to Katete which would be our first stopping point was marked by winds that were so furious that if we weren't being blown off balance, then we were pedaling down hill in what felt like a brutal hurricane. You could tell that the wind was crippling Charle's vigor. His pace was much slower then mine and when you bike 60 km the day before - the muscles protest a bit, especially when you have to work twice as hard to get just as far.

We finally reached Katete around 11. It was a brutal 66 km. We were torn by the wind and I was road rashed from a crash by an accidental 'Cut off' by Charles. Feeling outdone by the wind, Charles made the decision to end his bike trek there in Katete and proceeded to hitch hike the remainder of the journey. It was a touch choice for him to make, but he felt that he was slowing me down, and with a much harder second leg still to go, he didn't think he could manage anymore wind torment.


I started off a little before 12 after a delicious buffalo lunch. The final leg would last for 88 km, through rolling hills, long stretches of highway and through construction dirt roads. It was a bit more enjoyable alone I admit. I was able to set my own pace, listen to music, and lose myself in thought. I felt like Forest Gump only on a bike trekking across the country for no apparent reason - I just felt like biking. The scenery was beautiful and I noticed so many more details and lays of the land then ever before. The wind died down about halfway through and then everything became blissful and serene.

About 3/4 of the way in, my muscles started to remind me of the reality of the situation. I was starting to get sore and my energy levels were depleting. The stash of sweet potatoes that I had brought were diminishing and I was not hydrating properly. Never the less, this was the part of the journey were pushing was key. I had to make it the rest of the way as I had come too far to submit. I pushed on despite the ache and pain of my body. It was like painting a room - a big one, by yourself. You start off with vigor, broad compelling strokes, using your arm muscles in an effective manner, but then 5 hours later, when you're on that last wall or last coat, you start throwing your whole body into the process using muscles in an unorthodox manner - trying to get your legs and hips and any available untapped body part to help you finish the task at hand. My pedaling had become rather odd - I was either in the highest year using my entire body weight to gain ground, or in the lowest gear pedaling at light speed moving as fast as a slug on a cold day. Every meter was a battle.


The home stretch seemed to last an eternity. Just when I thought my destination was just around the bend, another stretch of land would crop up and I found myself saying to myself over and over "Where did this come from". It was almost as if some superior being was stretching the land further and further. It was a mental struggle to keep my spirits high and my body in motion.

I arrived at my destination a little after 4 p.m.. I was so exhausted that my muscles began to crap immediately after getting off the bike. I was welcomed to the house with a cold beer and congratulatory complements. I had accomplished my goal - a 150 km bike trek across the province. It felt satisfying and rewarding to tell people when they asked that I had made the entire ride with out hitching. Surprisingly I was hardly sore the next few days. I recovered well and I think its safe to say that somewhere, behind the thinning hair and mild crows feet is a bit of youth still poised and ready to prove itself when need be - at least for a few more years until the next great test.

My Camp Elite

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." - Mark Twain

Of all projects that I have taken on in my two year stint here in Zambia, none have compared to Camp Elite. 

A quick and dirty - Camp Elite is an all boys youth empowerment camp in which each province decides to host boys and community mentors in a camp environment. We choose PCV's who then choose 2 boys and 1 counterpart from their village to come to a venue (boarding school) and learn, participate, play and compete in camp related activities. In a nutshell - summer camp.


I attended the previous year's camp as a participant, and it easily became one of my favorite side projects. After it was all said and done, I volunteered for the lead coordinator position for the following year (this year). And since nobody wanted to take on the role, I easily assumed it.


Planning a camp with 15 volunteers, 15 counterparts and 30 kids is an immense amount of work. So many details and intricate planning go into the final product. I think I began planning back in September for a camp that wouldn't commence until April. It was funded entirely through a USAID grant and all costs and budget details were required to be accounted for months before the camp was to begin. We had to predict how much everything would cost, and any slip up, or over looked expenditure would result in money out of our own pockets. Tee shirts had to be ordered and designed (which I did myself - and I was quite pleased with), food for +60 had to be planned out for 5 days and 4 nights, room and board - including bedding which had to be purchased, a quality venue that could house the type of activities we wished to perform, and transportation for everyone including community organizations that were invited to attend. All this is just barely scrapping the surface of what had to be brought into consideration. It was naturally a stressful build up unto the actual event that haunted my sleepless nights and every waking thought months prior.

I mirrored the camp in virtually the same format as the previous year. Of course there were changes that were made to improve the camp, but the camp the previous year - even though it was the first one in our province, was a great success.


We divided the kids, counterparts and PCV's into teams just like last year, but this year we had a sort of 'tryout' in which a few PCV's responsible, would go around and assess each kid's physical attributes. Based on this, we did our best in dividing the teams fairly. Last year we had a random draw for teams and the result was one team with the majority of counterparts and older kids. It was unfair and we wanted to avoid that.


The first day was a bit unsteady as the facility had issues with lighting and locating keys for the boys dormitories. Bathrooms and water were also inconsistent and filthy the first day and we had to do our best to remain patient and understanding with the staff and facilities shortcomings. Our patience paid off immediately after the first day and in the words of our original camp coordinator, Chirs Boyer, who ran the coordination of the camp the previous year and was in attendance for this camp as a community organization spokesman - 'we caught our stride'.


Things began to come together and we found a rhythm that would not be suede by hiccups that came in the scheduling as the camp progressed - such as community organizations not showing up or activities and sports that went over scheduled time. We did what PCV's do best - adapt and improvise and in each instance when an obstacle would come our way, we overcame.


The schedule was grueling - we were up at 7 a.m. and didn't retire until 10 and 11 p.m. some nights. On more then one occasion we were late to lunch and dinner and most presentations had to shave time off in order to accommodate the extensive variety of subjects and activities I wished to include. We had a volleyball tournament, kickball game, dodge ball match, scavenger hunt, relay race, soccer tournament, capture the flag game, water balloon fight, nightly board games & movies. We learned about male circumcision, proper condom use, gender equality, environmental conservation, how to be a successful man, business ethics, goal setting, fish farming, nutrition, malaria, HIV/AIDS. We even had a few colleges in the area come out to give the kids some exposure. It was a well rounded curriculum and the kids got a rich, mixed variety of subjects to learn about.

When the camp was all said and done, it was obvious that we all had put everything we had into the camp. PCV's were tired, cranky and exhausted - but the pride in knowing that we had just empowered and potentially diverted the lives of many of the participants was encouragement enough to keep us smiling and pushing on. The final days were bittersweet. It was good to know that we ran a successful camp and that we would finally be able to get some rest in the village - but sad to see everyone go. Especially when every kid that I spoke with hardly wanted to leave. Most begged me to continue the camp for days, weeks and even months longer - which brought quite the smile and warm feeling into my heart.


As the type of person who is his own biggest critic, I can comfortably say that there was little I could have done, regarding the planning aspect, better. If I could do it all over again I would have a hard time making the camp more successful then what it had amounted too. Feedback from everyone - PCV's, counterparts and kid was all positive and even those that had their doubts to begin with admitted that Camp Elite was a great success, far better then what they had initially predicted.


Looking back I cant help but feel proud of all the effort and time I devoted to this camp. It has easily been the hardest I've ever worked in my life and decompressing when it was all said and done took nearly a week of solitude in the village. As a career path, I could possibly see myself in the camp director position - I got a lot of satisfaction out of it and wouldn't mind taking on the role again - though I have a hard time understanding how some camps can last for weeks on end.


With the camp now behind me and all the planning and anticipation done, I can't help but feel a bit empty and lost without the anticipation on my shoulders. In the future, but not as the coordinator, is camp GLOW, a women's empowerment camp that takes on all the same issues a bit more tailored to female empowerment. It will be nice to not be in the driver seat for this one, but I will take a sympathetic standpoint towards the one who is.

Hunger Season

" The more you share, the more the sun will shine" - Charlie 'All dogs go to heaven'


Hunger season is no picnic, literally and figuratively. Imagine a time of the year completely opposite to the holidays that we in the states look forward to like Christmas or thanksgiving where overindulgence is celebrated. Kind of a difficult concept for an American to grasp until actually experiencing it. In a nutshell, hunger season is a period of a few months during the year where Zambians, in certain parts of the country, go without food variety, and in worst case scenarios - food.


The way the time table goes for the average villager who is 95% of the time unemployed and a peasant farmer is similar - at least in my area of the country. Harvests for maize, the cash crop that fetches the most weight in money after its sold, occurs, roughly in May & July. This is the most affluent time of year where families and even the poor reach the peak of their income level. They harvest acres of maize and sell it for a moderate return depending on how well and hard they have worked that year.



The money either gets saved or spent depending on how responsible the farmer is. Hopefully they've set some income aside for fertilizers and seeds for the upcoming planting season (October-November). They also keep some of the maize for themselves and their families so they can take it to the hammer mill and eat nshima(corn meal), the Zambian staple food, for the rest of the year. Given the circumstances, the family either sells or keeps enough to last. After the plantings occur, and the nshima has been fed upon for closing in on a year - supplies start to run low. On top of the scarcity, September- November is dry season and vegetables from their gardens also start to become less and less plentiful. No water = no vegetables.


By the time February comes around, just a few months after the rains have started, the vegetables in their gardens are too raw to harvest, and their maize supply for nshima is now either gone or running very low. Some people have learned and planned for this rock bottom time of year, while others suffer and are at the mercy of those who were wise. This sad, sad time of the year is referred to as hunger season and its felt in villages all over the country at different times of the year.

From a PCV's perspective, we have no change in the living allowance we receive monthly, even during hunger season. Though it may be a bit harder to obtain fresh vegetables, the difficulty that we experience during this time of year is guilt. While my next store neighbor is eating plain nshima with no vegetables or proteins in very meager quantities, I'm next door cooking a pasta prima-vera dish, or eating a dinner with 10 ingredient and 10 different spices. It has a tendency of making me feel greedy. Its a guilt trip like no other to see a skinny child with an empty belly while mine is full. But the reality is that I cant feed an entire village meal to meal - so where do I draw the line when I want to sneak my neighbor a plate of rice or some vegetables to go with what little rations they may or may not have? News of my actions spreads faster the wildfire in the village so the second I give one person food, 20 more appear at my door-Usually children. Its a road to a perfect storm that could cause other backlash like village jealously and, or even violence to those who have been favored. A fine line to say the least and we PCV's are encouraged not to hand out at will in such a way to avoid these potentially volatile situations.


So what do I do? I've come to the conclusion, after plenty of time to decide that I should give as much as I can spare during this time of year. I use to be under the impression that giving was counterproductive to what I do here in Zambia. Harboring a dependent lifestyle is not what development is about. I'm here to be a temporary crutch and teach them the skills that allow them to maintain on their own. But during hunger season, I submit. I do cook for my neighbors when I see them hungry, I do make extra food each night - it may not be enough to feed the masses, but it feeds some.


Now I don't want to give the impression that my village appears in starving swarms, or that I'm a soup kitchen - its not that bad and i'm not that much of a saint, but, as the richest one in the village - especially during this time of the year I feel it my duty to step up and be a giving tree to whomever I can support on a low key the best I can. Some nights I give, and some nights even I eat rice with tomatoes and can't supply others. But where I can trim the fat and break off a piece, I do my part. With great power (or sources of income) comes great responsibility - My liberal mom would be very proud of that.


When I leave the village for an extended period of time, which these days occurs often, I'll give all my vegetables to my neighbor. When I cook dinner at night, Ill cook a pot of food twice as large as I usually can consume on my own and hand out portions to my neighbor kids (when i can - every other night). Its not much, but its something, and as long as I can keep it seasonal and sporadic, I feel like its the loose change that you and I may contribute during the Christmas season to the salvation army Santa outside of the mall.


This year was exceptionally bad as I had a consistent group of kids saying each night during February that they were hungry. I concluded that their parents dropped the ball in rationing their nshima supply or ran into some problems that caused them to sell more maize then they should of. The way I justified it is that most of these kids fetch me water on a daily basis anyway, I'm just paying my water bill at a higher rate this year with portions of food on top of sweeties (hard candies I give to kids for getting me water).

With March now here and May and June just around the corner, early harvest will begin to occur soon and money will once again start coming around to villagers, enabling them to start eating healthier diets and thus lessen the wave of people I feel obligated to feed. Its a rough time of year, but Zambians are a strong enough people to be capable of overcoming, with or without my help, but hey - I'm here to help.

I guess what I'm trying to get at is to communicate to you the grand difference of seasonal times in this country, and in comparison to the culture and holidays we know of in the states, but also that flat out giving isn't necessarily condoning dependency. If its done with consideration, empathy and responsibly it can be the most sincere gift that one person can bestow on another. I've come to change my perspective on the way I go about it and think I have a clearer picture on the way it should and shouldn't be done. Perhaps my new found giving habit may even foster a more inclined tendency among them to give when the chips are high on there side and therefore creating a sustainable environment where everybody helps everybody when they can. Justified in that sense - Im just doing what I came here to do. I feel better about my decision already.

Holiday Sunshine & Housing Blues

Every adversity, every failure, every heartbreak, carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit. - Napoleon Hill



Unbelievable as it may be, Its getting to the point in my service where days go by and the closing draws near. Its kind of like dying in a sense - you want to get everything that you had wished for yourself done before its too late. A PCV bucket list if you will. What's even harder to accept, at least for me and my untouched bucket list, is the fact that I've been here for almost a year and a half and haven't left this country. Not once. The holidays are a great opportunity for a PCV to get away and do things outside of village life. With all this in mind, the decision wasn't difficult. One of the more convenient visits, mainly because of affordability and proximity was a country that I'm practically bordering - Malawi. Malawi is a small, and fairly unheard of country, in many ways similar to Zambia and almost impossible to distinguish. For one, they speak Nyanja; the same language as me (though a different dialect), the people are friendly and the urban set-up is virtually identical - minibuses, an unusually high currency system, and ruthless cab drivers who don't look twice a pedestrians. It was especially a done deal since all transportation and boarding costs were taken care of thanks to a generous birthday present (Thanks again, you know who you are).


And so the planning was made, the date scheduled and the boarder was crossed. My first impressions - Are we really out of Zambia? It really was difficult to tell. A short boarder check was the only thing that made it its own. As we ventured further and further into the country, I couldn't help but notice how green, lush, and full of tress the country was compared to Zambia. Much of the growth was in part due to it being rain season, but the groves and groves of unscathed trees that we were passing by were obviously protected and adding to the beauty of the country. A beauty that Zambia would also possess had it not been so raped and plummeted by deforestation. I've mentioned before that Zambia ranks high in world wide deforestation. Malawi, on the other hand, had environmental protection laws in many areas of its country. The areas that we drove through and it was a night and day difference compared to the damage that had already taken place in Zambia. Malawi took care of itself.


Our commute, though not as smooth as we had hoped for, ended up well. We arrived safely and secure at our destination - Lake Malawi, Ncota Bay. It was a sleepy town right on the lake of beautiful Lake Malawi. I'm not sure if the climate and fauna was always as lush and beautiful as we had seen, but I suddenly had flashbacks to my tropical days in Hawaii. The scenery was that of an island. The air was dank and humid, but there was a cool breeze that blew of the lake constantly. There was lush foliage all about and the lake couldn't have been more picturesque. Our lodge was one of the recommended premiere accommodation spots and it was easy to know why within our first few hours. The place was tucked away in a hillside overlooking the bay. A breeze was ever present both at night and in the day, the staff were accommodating and food and drink menu extensive as it was delicious and creative. They had specials almost everyday including buffet options. As a peace corps volunteer coming out of the village where the same three meals are consumed on a never ending cycle, this was absolute heaven.


Our days were spent either canoeing out on the water, in a motor boat headed to a beach for volleyball and cliff jumping, watching eagles catch fish out of the lake, playing soccer with local children, playing card/board games, and of course drinking with people from all ends of the world. There was an unusually high number of peace corps volunteers as well from Zambia, Malawi, Nymibia and Botswana. Getting to know about them and their service was enough conversation to last an entire day. In town we indulged at local restaurants, shopped at local Rasta shacks and bought jewelry and hand carved sculptures. We really got a feel for the pace of life. The weather fared well and it only rained a few times (but when it did it was still nice). The local food, specifically butter fish, was some of the best I've had since college and everyone was so friendly, nice and happy to be in each others company. Time slipped away much sooner then we expected and we found our self's booking 2 extra days longer then we had intended spending money we really shouldn't have - yet, I have no regrets.


As all good things come and go, we said good bye reluctantly to our little island paradise and headed back to Zambia a few days before new years. On the way out I couldn't help myself and spent a hefty amount of money (with the peace corps budget) on a package of fireworks. Unfortunately my haste failed to recognize that the ones I had purchased weren't the type I desired. All of them were fountain style and designed with smaller children in mind. No explosions in the sky or loud bangs to really get the adrenaline flowing; just an all too safe flow of sparks. Regardless, it was a good new years back in Zambia with a few close friends. We made the best of it and welcomed 2014 in with open arms.


The time had finally come for me to venture back to site and work. Let me explain a bit of background on what was going on while I was away. While on vacation and a few weeks prior to it, I was in the process of getting my kitchen hut rebuilt as the roof was on the verge of collapsing - with or without me in it. The reconstruction period, so I was told, would take no more then a day, especially because the housing committee works together as a team in a large group. Well, things weren't working as hasty as that. It started out being a day, then I gave them 3, 3 turned into a week, a week into a month and by the time I had ventured back from vacation, it was going on 2 months. Life without my kitchen, I found was aggravating. Everything in my kitchen was moved into my small hut meaning things were unorganized, stacked in piles upon each other, and driving me insane. I was cooking both outside and on my bed and tripping on things every time I entered and exited my hut. Think of a sports closet that is stuffed to the brim and then forced closed. The last straw was when I dropped a pot of well prepared dinner all over myself and furniture as I tripped for the hundredth time over the same nonsense. I had to get away.


And so I left my hut on leave with peace corps not to return until it was finally finished. I had told the people in charge and hoped that it would speed up the process, but my kitchen hut lay in shambles for weeks after I had left with no progress being made. It was rain season and most villagers were out in the field preparing their maize crop - exactly what I had feared. Would any of them every come back to help me out? I kept trying to contact and nag the people responsible, but to no avail. When I finally had word that it was finished, after another few weeks, I came back only to find a mess. The roof had very little grass, the floor was ankle deep in mud, there was no window, no door and a gap that may or may not have been a window that you could almost fit a compact car through. I immediately went back to where I was before and awaited a more through job to be done, one that showed they gave a damn. Now the downside to this entire debacle is that all of it occurred in the heart of crunch time for fish farming. I had loads of work to do, including a fish farming grant, and I was burning through money being out of my village for so long. I couldn't afford this to go one any longer.


And so finally after another week or so, it happened. After loads complaining, calling and nagging, they finally rebuilt and fixed all the issues I had with it upon my inital return, and I had a new remodeled kitchen that wasn't going to kill me. If I could go back and make the decision all over again would I? Hell no, I would have taken my chances with the roof coming down on me, but It's nice to have my village life back again. My new kitchen, though structurally sound, lacks windows and still leaks all over. Though I've decided not to make such a big deal about it, I have to struggle in the heart of rain season with moping my floors every other morning. But through all the struggle with living away from home basically in someone elses house, I'm finally back. Back to my animals, hut, farmers counterpart, and most importantly - work. I'm quite behind in my schedule of where I hoped to be at this point, but such is the life of a PCV. Though it will be a headache and require constant nagging of a different sort, in due time everything will work out and though late, I will have caught up on pond construction and stalking before to long.


And so with February right around the corner, and my service winding down, I plan on spending ample amounts of time focusing on work and development in the village. My goal is to have doubled the amount of fish ponds that I had last year, accomplish several more Grassroots soccer interventions with multiple schools, run an unforgettable Camp ELITE with 16 other volunteers and 45 other Zambian villagers and grow a thriving garden through 'Keyhole gardening' techniques that will be noticed and adopted by others in the village. I'm optimistic. I figure coming out of a housing blues slump like the one i'm in will only make rebounding natural. Cheers to 2014 - may it be a year worth looking back on..