“I would rather not know how to write and have something to say than know how to write and have nothing to say.”
-Enrique Tessieri
I'm convinced that there has been some sort of space time continuum that has tampered with my grasp of time. Its been 3 months since I've been in country, yet it feels like nothing shorter then a year. I can hardly remember routines and tendencies that I use to practice back in the states, and visions and memories of places and things I use to do are fading fast because my brain has been crammed with an unfeasible amount of information. Life changed so much upon my leaving of the states and arriving here in Zambia. Then came PST which entailed a whole new mode of getting use to, and now PST has ended and once more we must adjust to a new lifestyle...Bush living. Its amazing how much I've been through and learned in 2 months that its no wonder I'm starting to forget things from San Diego. Upon arrival, I've learned a language, learned the odds and ends of aquaculture, and even the culture of a country I knew so little about. But after all I've been through; the training, people and culture. The time has finally arrived to do what I've come to do. Help people.
The conclusion of PST was stressful, very comparable to a finals week in college but even more chaotic. There was sleepless nights when all I would do is study until I couldn't keep my eyes open. There was logistical mishaps, nervous breakdowns, yet pride and accomplishments as I came to realize that I had passed all of my exams and quotas. I had aced my aquaculture exam and finished with one of the highest scores. Language on the other hand was much more difficult for me to naturally grasp and though I didn't score poorly at all, I didn't obtain the grade I was aiming for. But a passing grade is a passing grade and with a deep breath and a forceful smile, I let it go and solaced myself with the idea that it will only improve with my immersion within my village where it will be practiced on a day to day basis with students in classrooms and farmers in the field. I have the motivation to have it mastered before I leave this country. And learning is all about attitude.
Our graduation day was entitled 'Cultural day'. A day when we would celebrate the conclusion of PST in Chongwe, say goodbye to our host families, entertain them with amusing presentations and prepare food. Though it was a time of celebration and commencement, it was also difficult for many to pack their bags and move out and away from the families that most of us had become so attached to during our 11 week accommodation. I lead the charge for the food preparation and organized spaghetti with 4 different sauces (meat, blush, Alfredo and vegetarian), macaroni and cheese, garlic bread and root-beer floats for desert, all for 120 people. Though I was the ringleader and organizer of the event I couldn't of had a better team that worked together so well and in such harmony. The food all came out amazingly and I earned a bit of street credit with the PST staff, the host families and my fellow volunteers in the process. The day was a huge success, though my groups presentation, (and my effort specifically) which was a singing and dancing performance (mostly improvised and in my opinion mediocre yet humorous) needed more rehearsal (the majority of my time and priorities were with cooking and studying for exams.)
It was emotional saying good bye for the last time to the family that had so gracious invited us into their home. I appreciated everything that my father and mother did for me; preparing food, preparing baths, cleaning and helping me with my language, that it would have been cold not to have gotten worked up and glossy eyed in saying farewell. But with that emotional goodbye, there was also the amazing feeling of accomplishment and a bright future on the horizon. We were all about to embark on something great.
Our final item of business was a more official swearing in ceremony at the Ambassador's house in Lusaka. The main event so to speak, where all the big wigs and higher ups of Peace Corps and Washington would attend and witness our oath of allegiance and commitment to serve as official volunteers for the United States in Zambia. I had heard it was a big deal. But when we arrived at the Ambassadors house and saw the high quality luxury that was being presented to us (golden tea spoons, fancy tea, REAL COFFEE), I realized that the tie I was wearing wasn't going to make me feel over dressed at all. The event was televised live on TV and many higher ups were in attendance, including the ambassador (his boss was Hilary Clinton). After numerous speeches and more then several words of wisdom, we all held up our right hand and went through the motions of promising to abide, defend, educate and serve in our 2 year service. We received certificates, shook hands with the ambassador and officially were converted from trainees to volunteers. A big deal and it felt good to make it to the other side. I was getting very tired of being called trainee.
The next few days went from cumbersome nicely dressed events to all out pool parties and celebrations at the great east motel where we all got to eat hotel food, swim in pools, intoxicate ourselves and enjoy the last few days we would have together for 3 months until IST (in service training). It was a good time and we all bonded with stories of PST, what we wanted to do with our service, and nights on the town where we would dance and laugh until the early hours of the morning. Though I really could have gone without the bed bugs. No fun.
After 2 days, we a packed our things again and headed out to our provincial houses where we were to shop and prepare for our community entry. A time when we would move into our community and meet people, explore and survey land to where we could and couldn't build fish ponds. It was a stressful few days of winging purchases and buying all items we'd need for the next 3 months.
I'm typing to you now currently indulging on the eve of my posting day with internet, running water and showers all at my disposal for one last evening. Tomorrow I gather everything I have bought in the past few days and all I own and head to my village where I will be left to fend for myself and relinquish the hand holding privileged that PC have spoiled me with up to this point. Its been an amazing journey to this point, and to think that it hasn't even really begun yet is mind boggling. This will be the last Blog that I will most likely be capable of posting for the next few months as there is no internet connection in the bust. I will be meeting chiefs, turning my hut into a home, meeting my community and finding my feet in a new life. It will be so exciiting to experience all the challenges, struggles, joys and accomplishments that are soon to come as well as the friends and relationships that I will soon develop. A new life lies ahead and I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be...
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
The REAL Lusaka
"I open my eyes, each morning I rise, to find the truth I, know that its there..." - SOJA
The truth. Only obtainable by first hand experience. We are told one thing only to find another. Yet that is the jest of life. Experiencing things for yourself and drawing your own conclusions is how we become who we are. We use recommendations as a guide and opinions as direction. Yet ultimately, the only pure truth to be found is with our own two eyes. Upon coming to country I had believed a lot of myths to be truth and found that I had a very uneven, inaccurate view; I thought wild animals roamed freely, I thought everyone was going to be miserable because they were poor, I thought everyone who had aids would be miserable, and I thought people were going to despise us because we were Americans. But the truth eventually cleansed my ignorance. The same goes for a little trip to the capital of Zambia, which is what this blog's topic is about...
To prevent us Trainees from going completely insane due to a cumbersome language and tech schedule, the staff believed it to be in their, and our best interest to treat us to an occasional day in the capital where we could eat pizza, ice cream, shop and use the precious internet. Once every few weeks we'd board a bus, travel one hour to the safe part of Lusaka called Manda Hill and Arcade. Here we found stores, shops and bars that had a rich upper class feel similar to what could be found in America. Manda Hill was a huge outdoor/indoor mall with a striking resemblance to most other malls we'd find in America. Clean floors, vaulted ceilings, restaurants, sporting good stores, fashion outlets. Everything we could possibly need was realistically there. We were so desperate for life outside of Chongwe that we never questioned how big Lusaka was, what the other areas of Lusaka were like, and if there was any place that sold cheaper booze... until we met Hunter.
Standing about 6 feet tall, with scruffy black hair, a rather lanky build was our street smart, city savvy leader. Hunter was near his last few days in country as a P.C. volunteer, so he had experience. He had been a mediocre fish farming instructor(though very knowledgeable just lacking teaching skills and motivation) yet amounted to being a wonderful guide in showing us the real side of Lusaka, which was constantly being eclipsed by PC staff. We had become close with hunter through humorous interactions and also an addictive board game we played constantly called settlers or captain. After being in his company for a few weeks he made it clear that me and a few others were among his favorites and he decided to give us a few tips the next time we had the opportunity to venture to Lusaka.
So the day finally came and we all arrived at the rich, fancy Manda Hill shopping mall like always with hours to kill. But this time we were making a break for it. We exited the parking lot and began to venture down the road toward the heart of Lusaka to a market called Kamwala, but better known to other volunteers as "the dirty market". Here one could buy alcohol in virtually any shape or form from various countries around the world; 8% red horse beer from the Philippians, Turbo King beer from the Congo, Jack Daniels, Captain Morgan, Johnny Walker are only to name a few. Cheaper Chitenges (basically thin cloth materials worn by all Zambian women that have a million uses), fireworks, soccer cleats, soccer jerseys, belts, wallets and sunglasses as well as male enhancement and clothing all for a fraction of the price you'd pay for the same stuff at Manda Hill.
We hitchhiked via an over crowded mini bus with stickers of Jesus, the virgin Mary, John Cena and the Undertaker all over the dash and windows to the heart of the capital where things were quite different from where we originally were quarantined which soon became apparent that it was the tourist side of the city. Where we were now was a vast deviation from our usual norm. It was chaos the minute we stepped off the bus. The streets were over crowded, there were small shops tucked away in every nook and crevice, and people were selling goods on blankets in the streets from vegetables to dress shoes. Thousands of people were out and about with limited walking space all trying to go their separate ways in a frenzy of sales, price haggles, arguments and taunts. It was overwhelming and hectic, yet the experience made me feel alive and satisfied. We walked through a hoard of soccer fans blowing horns, people constantly selling and bombarding us with cheap goods (as we were white and to them, obviously rich), and occasionally from time to time, we would hear spy accusations. It was dangerous and thrilling, mesmerizing and inspiring to take in all the stimuli that was before us. Much more of what I had envisioned markets to look like as opposed to where we had come from. It was the real Lusaka.
We marched in a single file line keeping close to one another to be on alert for pick pockets and thieves a few Kilometers to our destination. When we arrived we found stands made out off sticks. Uneven, soggy, rocky terrain, and dozens of shops with all sorts of liquor and beer crates outside of them. After getting a break down of how to go about buying and finding the best deal for what we were looking for the bargaining began. We bounced from shop to shop deploying a variety of tactics that entailed sweet talk, coaxing, and begging with the little Nyanja we knew. It was both a mission for cheap liquor and a Language lesson in shopping. A very entertaining and competitive game of trying to get a better deal then your buddy would and the more we ventured to the market, the better we got at it.
When it was all said and done, I had walked away with two bottles of rum that were less then half the price at manda hill, a pair of soccer cleats for 15.00 USD(adidas) and sunglasses that worked out to 1.50 USD. It felt good to be able to score goods at prices that were much more affordable. Upon arriving back at Manda Hill we told others and from there on out every time we made our way to Lusaka, Kamwala market was in the game plan. It was a very educational experience that taught me the lesson of going out and being adventurous on your own accord (well with a few others for saftey). We had a decent tour of much of the city, experienced our first taste of public transportation and now had a much better, and affordable means of obtaining alcohol and other goods. Though the end result was technically to obtain cheap booze, getting there and experiencing the true side of Lusaka was the ultimate prize to be had. It was a big Varsity step in the grand scheme of Volunteering in Zambia and gave me an adventure seeking mentality that I will deploy as I venture out on other expeditions throughout my journey while here.
The truth. Only obtainable by first hand experience. We are told one thing only to find another. Yet that is the jest of life. Experiencing things for yourself and drawing your own conclusions is how we become who we are. We use recommendations as a guide and opinions as direction. Yet ultimately, the only pure truth to be found is with our own two eyes. Upon coming to country I had believed a lot of myths to be truth and found that I had a very uneven, inaccurate view; I thought wild animals roamed freely, I thought everyone was going to be miserable because they were poor, I thought everyone who had aids would be miserable, and I thought people were going to despise us because we were Americans. But the truth eventually cleansed my ignorance. The same goes for a little trip to the capital of Zambia, which is what this blog's topic is about...
To prevent us Trainees from going completely insane due to a cumbersome language and tech schedule, the staff believed it to be in their, and our best interest to treat us to an occasional day in the capital where we could eat pizza, ice cream, shop and use the precious internet. Once every few weeks we'd board a bus, travel one hour to the safe part of Lusaka called Manda Hill and Arcade. Here we found stores, shops and bars that had a rich upper class feel similar to what could be found in America. Manda Hill was a huge outdoor/indoor mall with a striking resemblance to most other malls we'd find in America. Clean floors, vaulted ceilings, restaurants, sporting good stores, fashion outlets. Everything we could possibly need was realistically there. We were so desperate for life outside of Chongwe that we never questioned how big Lusaka was, what the other areas of Lusaka were like, and if there was any place that sold cheaper booze... until we met Hunter.
Standing about 6 feet tall, with scruffy black hair, a rather lanky build was our street smart, city savvy leader. Hunter was near his last few days in country as a P.C. volunteer, so he had experience. He had been a mediocre fish farming instructor(though very knowledgeable just lacking teaching skills and motivation) yet amounted to being a wonderful guide in showing us the real side of Lusaka, which was constantly being eclipsed by PC staff. We had become close with hunter through humorous interactions and also an addictive board game we played constantly called settlers or captain. After being in his company for a few weeks he made it clear that me and a few others were among his favorites and he decided to give us a few tips the next time we had the opportunity to venture to Lusaka.
So the day finally came and we all arrived at the rich, fancy Manda Hill shopping mall like always with hours to kill. But this time we were making a break for it. We exited the parking lot and began to venture down the road toward the heart of Lusaka to a market called Kamwala, but better known to other volunteers as "the dirty market". Here one could buy alcohol in virtually any shape or form from various countries around the world; 8% red horse beer from the Philippians, Turbo King beer from the Congo, Jack Daniels, Captain Morgan, Johnny Walker are only to name a few. Cheaper Chitenges (basically thin cloth materials worn by all Zambian women that have a million uses), fireworks, soccer cleats, soccer jerseys, belts, wallets and sunglasses as well as male enhancement and clothing all for a fraction of the price you'd pay for the same stuff at Manda Hill.
We hitchhiked via an over crowded mini bus with stickers of Jesus, the virgin Mary, John Cena and the Undertaker all over the dash and windows to the heart of the capital where things were quite different from where we originally were quarantined which soon became apparent that it was the tourist side of the city. Where we were now was a vast deviation from our usual norm. It was chaos the minute we stepped off the bus. The streets were over crowded, there were small shops tucked away in every nook and crevice, and people were selling goods on blankets in the streets from vegetables to dress shoes. Thousands of people were out and about with limited walking space all trying to go their separate ways in a frenzy of sales, price haggles, arguments and taunts. It was overwhelming and hectic, yet the experience made me feel alive and satisfied. We walked through a hoard of soccer fans blowing horns, people constantly selling and bombarding us with cheap goods (as we were white and to them, obviously rich), and occasionally from time to time, we would hear spy accusations. It was dangerous and thrilling, mesmerizing and inspiring to take in all the stimuli that was before us. Much more of what I had envisioned markets to look like as opposed to where we had come from. It was the real Lusaka.
We marched in a single file line keeping close to one another to be on alert for pick pockets and thieves a few Kilometers to our destination. When we arrived we found stands made out off sticks. Uneven, soggy, rocky terrain, and dozens of shops with all sorts of liquor and beer crates outside of them. After getting a break down of how to go about buying and finding the best deal for what we were looking for the bargaining began. We bounced from shop to shop deploying a variety of tactics that entailed sweet talk, coaxing, and begging with the little Nyanja we knew. It was both a mission for cheap liquor and a Language lesson in shopping. A very entertaining and competitive game of trying to get a better deal then your buddy would and the more we ventured to the market, the better we got at it.
When it was all said and done, I had walked away with two bottles of rum that were less then half the price at manda hill, a pair of soccer cleats for 15.00 USD(adidas) and sunglasses that worked out to 1.50 USD. It felt good to be able to score goods at prices that were much more affordable. Upon arriving back at Manda Hill we told others and from there on out every time we made our way to Lusaka, Kamwala market was in the game plan. It was a very educational experience that taught me the lesson of going out and being adventurous on your own accord (well with a few others for saftey). We had a decent tour of much of the city, experienced our first taste of public transportation and now had a much better, and affordable means of obtaining alcohol and other goods. Though the end result was technically to obtain cheap booze, getting there and experiencing the true side of Lusaka was the ultimate prize to be had. It was a big Varsity step in the grand scheme of Volunteering in Zambia and gave me an adventure seeking mentality that I will deploy as I venture out on other expeditions throughout my journey while here.
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