As PCV's our service here is a short and fleeting one. When we first arrive, we are faced with rigorous, monotonous training courses both linguistically and technically that make our two year service ahead seem like an eternity to overcome. But as time passes, and we begin to develop in our respected lines of work, the feeling of the original eternity that we had felt begins to seem more like a sunset winding down over the horizon. Our jobs as we have chosen to accept, is to assimilate, train and eventually work ourselves out of a job, ideally leaving our skills and knowledge with those with whom we work. We aim to inspire others to pass on what they have learned to future generations furthering development. In all cases, this is a milestone; in Zambia, America, anywhere in the world and in every culture. The goal to life is to acquire knowledge, and pass it on to later generations. Weather we learn as students, or successfully teach as teachers. It is a lifelong process, but here in Peace Corps, we attempt this in a condensed express version. The result; a deceivingly short 2 year period of immeasurable development and growth both by the people we work with and within ourselves.
Only recently has the moment of reflection finally occurred to me as to what I've accomplished thus far in my service. Though it is a difficult concept for me to grasp, I am only weeks away from my one year mark of being in country. There have been many stories that I can remissness upon that have made me proud and thankful for making the decision of getting on that International plane flight just over 11 months ago leaving my home, country and friends behind. What was once a roll of the dice gamble has now become my greatest and most meaningful line of work. Though the wide scope of success stories that warrants this feeling of success is ultimately measured in its entirety, there are only a handful of stories that will remain with me long after my service ends.
My last blog centered around a memorable experience in which a village friend had approached me with an idea to organize a soccer tournament within, and involving other neighboring villages. We had only recently completed a boys empowerment camp which taught young men about leadership, teamwork and cooperation so they could take these skills back to the village and apply them to appropriate situations. My village friend, Joe, is one of my counterparts and I invited him along to camp to help facilitate. He had done an excellent job in assisting other volunteers and myself with translation, as a positive role model and active participant. Later on after returning to the village, he had proposed this village soccer tournament idea and we ended up turning it into a reality. I was taken aback on how he was able to exercise and recite so much of what we had taught at the camp to other villagers. He was putting in a valiant effort in trying to teach others what he had learned and the tournament had been a huge success as it was the first major organized sporting event that the village had ever hosted or taken part in.
Weeks after the tournament, I had some business to take part in outside of the village for a few days. I left Joe in charge of watching my house, feeding my turkeys, puppies, dogs and cat. When I had returned to my village, I found a rather neglected home situation. My turkeys seemed in poor health as the female had extensive feather loss - possibly due to the lack of water and food in their feeder/dish. The cat was no where to be found and my puppies also had no water, which lead me to believe they also had no food in my absence. Confused, I awaited Joe to return. The following day he was again nowhere to be found, which reinforced my theories. He finally showed up the next day and what I found was a completely different and off-beat Joe. Despite his face being covered with mysterious sores, Joe seemed like he was high on drugs or drunk or both. He was rambling about all sorts of random topics, not making sense and speaking non-stop not letting me get in a word or retort. I asked him questions about weather or not he had been feeding my animals, and weather or not he had been watching my house in my absence. He failed to make logical sense in any of his responses. Frustrated I dismissed him, thinking that the following day he would come to his senses. I was wrong. The following day the behavior had persisted, perhaps even had increased in severity. He forced his way into my hut insisting that I loan him personal objects of mine like my sunglasses, clothing and he even pocketed a harmonica of mine without my consent. To top things off he managed to commandeer my bicycle while my back was turned to go run an errand and was gone for several hours. When he returned, I put my foot down in anger. It was the first time I had to raise my voice and get confrontational with anyone in the village. I asked him if he was on drugs, if he knew of the why he was acting and why. To all the questions, he gave indirect answers, lies and denials. I was worried when he left that it could potentially be something worse then drugs.
In the next few days I had spoken with my other counterpart who offered his own theories about Joe's condition. Marijuana and chewing tobacco was his answer. He claimed that Joe had recently been hanging around the wrong crowd and just taken up the habit and obviously wasn't reacting to it well. We both confronted him about it in the days that followed but the reaction we got was just even more dodging and withdrawn. With Joe's odd behavior remaining, and myself not being the only one concerned, he was finally strong armed into going to the local health clinic to get evaluated by other friends and family. From there, he was sent an hour away to St. Francis to undergo further evaluation. Something was definitely wrong.
In the few days that Joe was gone, I could only speculate as to what he was suffering from. Different mental conditions, perhaps he injured his head, I had even went as far as to accept cerebral malaria as a possibility. My other counterpart had ventured up too the hospital a few days later to check on him and reported that Joe's condition hadn't improved and he was in fact singing and dancing in a strange drunk like fit when he went to visit. The hospital was running blood tests and weren't sure when they would be able to release him.
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| Joe - top left Zambian Government Parliamentary member - bottom right |
Some time had passed and Joe finally returned from the hospital. Though he wasn't displaying such odd behavior as before, it was obvious his recent stint had left him a little exhausted and depleted, both mentally and physically. His sores didn't quite look as bad, but he was mentally slow similar to the behavior a recovering junky might exhibit. Many programs that I had planned to have him involved in I had to cancel and I was unsure if I could use him any further as a reliable counterpart. When I asked him about the whole fiasco he was still very unsettling about it, not wanting to admit or say what had landed him in St. Francis hospital for so long. It wasn't until weeks later when he had finally fully recovered that he admitted he had been smoking marijuana.
I left the village again on business of a different nature for a week. This time I had my other counterpart in charge of taking care of my hut and animals while I was away. I returned with great relief. This time to a hut of healthy animals and full water and food dishes. Early the following morning I awoke to the sound of a whistle blowing which signified the summoning of the village soccer team to training. I was confused because normally they didn't train in the mornings, only the evenings. Later on during the day, during the usual time that the team does hold their training sessions I noticed an unusually large gathering of people near the soccer field. A quite unusually large gathering. I decided to investigate.
What I found amazed me. There were people from all sorts of different villages awaiting a soccer match between 2 villages that were about 10km away. On top of that there was another game immediately proceeding and another one after that. Three games on a weekday was unheard of. On top it all, the village that it was being played in wasn't even playing in it. I felt out of the loop. While I was standing there, in utter disarray, Joe had found me. I noticed Joe's sores were subsiding, he seemed cognitive and aware, not the dull spaced out version that I had been experiencing the past few weeks, and he was able to hold his old astute conversations with me. Joe seemed back to normal.
When I asked him what was the reason behind so many people being in the village, and about the upcoming soccer game he told me that it was all his own doing. In my absence, he had organized and mobilized a much bigger, and better tournament then the one we had originally executed. There were 14 teams involved, trumping our first tournament which only had 4, and he had contacted members of the Zambian Parliament to sponsor by providing prizes for the champions and runners up. They had also promised to come on the day of the championship to present the prizes personally. There was a planned out tournament schedule, organized referee coordination and entire board of members responsible for the tournament. And the Zambian government was sponsoring it. In short, it was an amazingly well organized tournament. I was thunderstruck at what I had just been told. In the short week that I had been away, Joe had organized and mobilized 14 villages into an organized tournament. Everything was thought through and he had done it all himself without my supervision. Not even two weeks prior had he been in the hospital because of an overindulgence in a substance that had thrown his whole world into a downward spiral. Then low and behold he made a 180 degree rebound and took charge in a village tournament so much more grand then the one we had organized together just weeks prior. I was nearly in tears. Happy, proud, astonished tears.
The tournament would go on to be a week long with multiple games everyday. The entire village and those from miles around would all flock to my village in the evening to gather round and watch their village participate attracting people who would also sell goods giving opportunity for people to make money. It was a festival setting and a great event to bring positive publicity to the community and the whole thing was done without my knowing and participation. I had worked myself out of a job successfully and the village loved it.
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| Champions: Chataika; N'chtanji |
It will be challenging to measure the impact of all the assignments and jobs that I will have had my hand in when I eventually conclude my service. Some impacts more obvious then others. But its instances likes these, the ones that take you by surprise that bring the biggest smile and remind me why I'm living the life of a volunteer here in a third world country half way around the world. When I look back on this experience years from now, its moments such as this one that I want to have surface in my memory. I think what makes this story especially noteworthy is not only the continuation upon the foundation I laid with starting the tournament, but Joe's ability to overcome. We've all made poor decisions in our lives, ones that have escorted us down dark paths, some of us continue on, but if we're lucky we are able to find our way back to more meaningful avenues. I'm amazed on how well and fast Joe was able to correct his mistake and change things in his life and community for the better. Sometimes its the way we rebound from the speed bumps that define who we are.
