Sleeping in Chongwe

19-8-2012




"Life is just a mirror and what you see out there you must first see inside of yourself." - Wally Amos



There are many elements of American life that I miss; being able to get in my car and drive, the ease of accessing hot water with a mere turn of a knob, and the mouth watering sensation of a burrito meshing with my taste buds... Yet among these modern luxuries that I unknowingly took for granted until this PC experience is having a peaceful sleeping atmosphere. One where lights could be switched off and disturbances would be at a minimum for the majority of the night. It was glorious to have the commodity of retreating into a room, closing a door and having peace and quite until daybreak. Those days however are a fleeting memory. A tale of a life back home that once offered the possibility of 8 hours of sleep throughout the night. And now, even the thought of 7, or even 6 hour sleep is an unlikely scenario..

For the past three weeks, I have lived in a small village. Here the people live a simple life. There is only one main road and a series of paths that lead to different villages and shanties. Most live without electricity, all without plumbing. You'd think by these standards that life would be peaceful. Somewhat of a relaxing break away from the hustle and bustle of urban living. If you assumed these facts to be true, just as I, you couldn't be further from the truth.


My nights here are anything but peaceful. I've never been a model sleeper, I usually wake up a few times in the middle of the night to tend to a disruptive bladder, yet I find so many other factors that contribute to a restless night sleep that my bladder is now the least of my woes. First are the rats. Not one, not two, but a hoard of rats that swarm my hut the moment the lights go out. I hear them in the dark while I lay in bed. They scurry about most likely searching for food, but sometime from the sound of their claws, I think they're playing an organized game of soccer. Despite my conscience efforts in keeping my hut immaculate they still come. I sleep with a flashlight in one hand and a shoe in the other and constantly arise when I hear them approach. I sleep light and am always ready to strike when their ugly head rears in my flashlights beam . I am becoming a seasoned vet in the art of setting traps and anticipating their escape moves. So far I have caught three, two by smashing with a shoe. Though I am desperate to exterminate the species, I'm beginning fear them less, and have mildly been accepting their presence as a part of Zambian life.


There's a bar less then 1 km down the road, and similar to many American bars, it closes very late and plays very loud music. It wouldn't be such an issue if Zambia had a better rounded music selection, but I am not so lucky. They play a total of 3 songs; three songs played all night long in a continuous fashion somewhat similar to what you'd expect if a burnt out Lynard Skynard fan made all the musical requests at a dive bar in the deep south. Yet I'm even less partial towards Zam-Pop. If there is some type of auditory water-boarding torture that I'm not aware of, this would be a close rendition. To exacerbate the situation, the bar sends a slew of drunken divas, both men and women, stumbling past my house all with a perceived licence to sing, repeating tunes with no volume control as they retreat back to their shanty dwelling.


Aside from the rats, my home stay family has two dogs. A male named Scooby, and a female named Spot. They are wonderful dogs and I credit their excellent guarding skills for part of the reason why I feel so safe. They seem like a very fitting couple and are very territorial about our area. One morning, about a week after being placed in my home stay, I awoke to find 4 other dogs near, yet keeping their distance from both Spot and Scooby. They were all male, and after observing their particular interest in Spot, Bob Barker's famous quote about having your dogs fixed began make sense . For 3 weeks now, poor Spot has been on the defense from horny, seed spreading males all with one thing on their minds. Despite Scooby's brave and valiant efforts, there have been several dogs that have been larger, stronger and more aggressive. The result has been constant growling and barking, late night fights, blood curling yelps, a tired frustrated Spot, and a bloody and scarred Scooby. I'm beginning to believe that Spot is the only female around these parts. Every night i'm torn on weather I should exit my hut and intervene in these intense quarrels, or let nature run its course.


Another noteworthy sleep impediment are the preventive medications that Peace Corps prescribes to us. Namely Methloquine, which is a doxy (preventive) for Malaria. I have dabbled in the experimentation of mind altering drugs once or twice in my youth, but when it comes to real crazy trips, I mean intense vivid dreams, Methloquine takes the prize. My dreams since being on the drug have been intensely detailed and vivid and I have become quite fond of the nights when I do take the drug ( which is once a week), because It supplements for the lack of entertainment on those long dull nights in my hut when reading doesn't cut it. After a night when the drug level peak, I usually wake up laughing, sometimes relieved, always baffled and consistently exhausted because my mind, instead of resting, was composing some off the wall mind adventure that came from god knows where.


The symphony of the night is often complimented with crying babies, wandering cows, and active fruit bats that I think live in my thatch roof. And going back to the bladder issue, I've decided to take advantage of an abandoned 2 liter container that I use as a temporary rest room because my restroom is too far for comfort to be walking to half asleep in middle of the night. A chimbozie (Outdoor bathroom) isn't the most comforting facility as it is, and is usually a hangout spot at night for rats and or unfriendly poisonous snakes. My advice to anyone contemplating Zambia as a vacation spot, especially if your going to do village living is to get as much rest as you can before traveling in country. A quite night doesn't exist here..

First Impressions

24-8-2012


"The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience." -Eleanor Roosevelt

Since arriving in Zambia, there have been many sighs of relief shared by both me and my fellow PVT's (Peace Corps Trainees; not volunteers until training is complete). The first and most relieving was felt upon exiting the plane and arriving in Zambia. The destination total took us easily 24 hours and for most of us, it felt like a week. Traveling to the other side of the world is demanding and I have gained a new found respect for all those international diplomats and businessman that perform it on a routine basis. Its definitely not for me. The second was making eye contact with my luggage at the baggage claim because we had heard terrible stories of others in our position prior who had their bags mistakenly sent to other parts of Africa. A nightmare that none of us wanted to be apart of, especially since our luggage was all we had for the next 2 years. And the third came from witnessing our initial accommodations, which weren't quite what we had expected. A hotel, though not quite up to American standards, but still a hotel. It was fairly beat up and run down, but not the shanty hut that we had scene in national geographic or read about in our PC prep Manuel. Turns out they wanted to break us into Africa slowly.


Our hotel was located just outside of Lusaka and appropriately enough, it was called the Barn Inn. It had a humble spread with decent landscaping and a safe feel compared to some of the scenery on the bus ride from the airport, which was a little more of what you'd expect from a third world country. My room had a total of 4 lights throughout the suite with only 2 bulbs, so I guess it only had 2 lights. There were mosquito nets hanging above the beds( that I broke the first night), and there was no hot water..at all. In America, this accommodation would be the scene you'd expect in a horror movie or a cheap afternoon delight rest stop. But in Zambia, this was prime living only available to the rich and privileged. You can imagine that I was a bit upset about not having a heated shower after a 24 some hour plane flight across the globe. Yet, my will convinced me that this was an initial step in the tolerance that I'd be formulating in the next few months as I acclimate to African living .


Learning more about the staff who manage and looked after our well being gave me comfort and reassurance that Peace Corps really was a organized government entity. The healthcare provided seemed much better then any I had received in America, which first threw some red flags and anxieties, yet also gave me relief knowing that I wouldn't be turned away due to lack of insurance or a crowded waiting room. It was also reassuring to learn of the rigorous orientation and training that we would soon be going through. Most of us had felt rather unqualified for the work we would be doing, we fretted that Peace Corps would just drop us off in some remote village and have us figure the rest out. Not at all. We would undergo an intense 11 week program of strict language training and in depth technical fish farming. They assured us that we would enter training unqualified, yet exit with the knowledge and skills that a successful Peace Corps Volunteer possesses, despite the fact that we had never heard of any of the local languages, and most of us knew jack about how to farm a fish.


It has been good to be able to pick the brains of other PCV's who have been in country for a good amount to time. Both in asking them questions and discovering all the discouraged yet tapped resources and methods of living that are not recommend, yet utilized by PCV's regardless of the frowns and sighs by some of the higher ups. Among them is hitchhiking, which makes the safety and security officer here cringe, but is an obvious and primary means of transportation among all the vet Volunteers. Another reason its good to be around volunteers that have been in country for some time is to see how much different they are compared to the rest of us who are still very fresh off the boat. Some seem to be affected in a positive way, while others seem to have a jadedness about them. I've noticed that not everyone who stays in Peace Corps really should. The sense of pride is like a leash that seems to keep many here even though it may not be for their own good. Yet its also reassuring to see others with a genuine contentedness to humanity and themselves that many of us newbies are ignorant towards. Their style of communication is direct, focused and sincere; not deterred by technologies or the sense of having to be other places other then where they are at the present moment. They seem to value the conversations and the people within them and are not longing for the past or anxious about the future. It is a characteristic that I hope Africa grants me by the end of my service.

Our intake has been recognized by other PCV's and PC officials as a very cohesive, friendly group unlike most other intakes prior. Its unusual that most everyone gets along and that not many have ET'd( Early termination) as of yet. I can also confirm that I feel that most of us in the group are at least easy going and enjoyable to be around. The sense of camaraderie amongst us contributes to the sense of safety and support that reassures me that I have made the right decision in coming here.


Although I'd love to claim that I have not a care in the world up to this point there are many anxieties on my mind and a consistent amount of stress that goes with being a PCT on the brink of volunteer service. The most obvious questions: What language will I get assigned? Will I pass the test and be fluent in 11 weeks ? Where will I be posted for 2 years? Will there be anyone near me? And then there are questions that came about from reading the medical Manuel, and that list is far too long, but some of the honorable mentions: What do I do when I get malaria (because its almost guaranteed)? What the hell is trich (and a dozen other diseases I've never heard of)? What do I do if I get bite by a black Mamba/Puff Adler/Rattlesnake/ Spitting Cobra (Other then panic)? What the hell is a scorpian spider? Though many of these questions had reassuring answers by the medical staff, many could not lull over my stressors no matter how many times I would rephrase the questions. It goes back to not having hot water in the room though, its one of the things I'll have to accept, the very real possibility of something bad happening, and adapt to it with the best of my abilities, with what life has taught me thus far. Peace Corps has its list of risks and though I was aware of them before coming to Africa, they were heightened greatly after learning about them more in depth. Though someone like me feels more at home when living the life becomes more dangerous and less predictable on a day to day basis, which is a big reason for my decision to join in the first place. I suppose its a double edged blade.


I anxiously await all that lies before me, the struggles, the rewards, the highs, the lows, the breakthroughs, the pitfalls but maybe not the snakes. Its an exciting time to be on the brink of adventure such as this. A moment that goes unexamined, underrated and unmentioned, standing at the starting line. Once it is behind us it can never return, the adventure begins the road ahead commences and the comfort of knowing your future ceases to exist, the future is now created step by step, molded by the very decisions and actions that we choose. Only a very minute amount of American have embarked on such a journey that the percentage doesnt exist in rational numbers. It makes me proud to be a statistic in that respect..