Carrying the Weight of the World Wearing Heavy Boots!

Carrying the weight of the world wearing heavy boots!                   Sept 5, 2012

 I remember being a little girl...contemplating the meaning of the world.   I would spend hours looking the magnificent pictures of national geographic, amazed at the wondrous world...daydreaming of all the different cultures, traditions, customs...so unknown to me in rural Wisconsin.  But as always, there was a flip side to this.   I couldn’t grasp how god could be so mean to let people go hungry, sick, without an education...I pondered the injustice of it all....what it meant and if there was a way to fix it.  In short...I was looking for a way to find world peace....and I didn't doubt that was possible at the time.

Things have changed, time has passed...I am weathered and a bit callused.  I like to think that world peace is still possible, but my capacity to dream it is heavy and overwhelmed.  It is a daily struggle trying to figure out if what I am doing is making a difference. 

Geographically, I have made it far from that little girl in small town Wisconsin.  I am now a 31 year old women writing from a hut in a village in southern Africa.  I see everyday what some of those national geographic stories portrayed. 

 Sustainable community development...in theory it is great...empowering individuals...communities that are so used to getting hand outs rather than education, that they don't even realize the power to change is in their hands and they have the ability to do so.  They visualize 'America' as this amazing world they want to be...but the assets and resources they still have...most Americans would save a lifetime for.  It angers me...sometimes...to hear them want a different life....this is a beautiful life and these are beautiful people.  I think..or at least like to think, that is just something else lost In translation.  They want an improved way of life...and I want that for them as well.  Their children are in rags, no shoes, sometimes nowhere to learn, hungry season is profound (more so than my last blog ignorantly protrays), and health care is far and inadequate.  The list could continue.  And yet...the children laugh and play...the adults dance and sing...celebrating what they do have and striving to make change in the community better.

My downfall here is the inability to say no.  Which leads to me being overwhelmed...the fear that I am going to disappoint this community is overwhelming every day.  I am exhausted and terrified...and I only and still have twenty months left of my service.  To be honest though...in one way or another, I think this has been a life long journey that won't end after twenty months.

Why is the worldy pendulum so off balance?  The 20 some years since I pondered this same question has left me with no concrete answer.  The only thing I can conclude is that we are faced with different challenges in life as a way to help complete our souls....maybe earth is just a university for our soul.  Possibly the world is off balance while the universe is swaying just right. 

May the beautiful universe guide you through your lessons.

Peace and love from Zambia

The Fringe of Western Civilization In the Bush of Africa

                                                                                                                          August 1, 2012

The Fringe of Western Civilization In the Bush of Africa

I should start by saying this is just my experience, and i know my closest neighbor does not face this reality.

It's not what I expected, village life, life in the bush of Africa surrounded by a culture and language completely foreign and unknown to me.  Possibly it is the village and location i was placed.  I am over twenty km from the tar mac but then only about five to the boma, or main town, which happens to big a huge transport hub, not just for Zambia but for copper and Tanzania which is the route most exports go.  The fringe of western civilization is where I ended up...in the bush of Africa.  Supposedly hungry season exists, but I can't imagine it...especially while most huts in my area have tin roofs (a sign of a wealthy farmer), some even with solar panels and converters.  The reality of the language is that most people speak better English than I do Bemba...so even though I struggle trying to remember verbs and how to attach one of the seven tenses...my community patiently waits until I finish when they kindly correct means answer usually in some form of broken English. 

Some women paint their nails and wear wigs...everyone belongs to a Christian church of some kind.  There is evidence of traditional culture.  The women wear incitenges (wrappers like a sarong)...though its not a complete shock to see a woman in trousers.  Showing bare leg is still unheard of.  The funerals is where I have noticed the most Zambian culture.  The bamayos (women) in their traditional icitambalas and incitenges... an icitambala or head wrap is worn as a sign of respect to the deceased.  The deep wailing  by the women fills the air with sorrow as they rotate their way in and out the house of the deceased, while the men sit in their separate area near silent.  The wailing from the women reverberates in every inch of your body and soul...even if you have never met the person that died, the grief is unavoidable.  Occasionally a beautifully sorrowful hymn cuts through moments of the wailing.  I don't want this to sound morbid, but I now almost look forward to these moments, as they are as near what I expected from traditional Zambian culture.  I am realizing that I long for that and can't help but to feel somewhat disappointed that it is not what I am finding.  The fact is, western civilization is creepy like a vine you don't know exists.

Don't get me wrong, i love my community and their culture.  They are hard workers....from laughter from the children fills the air as the red African sun sets on the field in which we are harvesting this year’s maize crop...to the ride on the OX cart as we transport the maize from the field, to the ubwali for every meal, water from the well, and letters by candle light...I am still in the village...just not in the fairy tale aspect I expected. 

 

There is a lot of work to be done here too.  My area is cutting the forest at an alarming rate for various reasons, but primarily to produce charcoal mainly to sell to people in the towns where they make a substantial profit.  I understand it.  It is quick money, and what they know how to do. 

 So project one...try to teach sustainable forest harvest, how much they will alter their environment (and there for livelihood as they live off and are so dependent on the land) if they continue to cut, teach alternatives to income generation, and try to find those that really care that will help to regenerate the forest, even though they won't see a paycheck from it.  For anyone that knows me, it’s obvious this will be close to my heart through the next two years.  Not too far behind it would land the sustainable agriculture, food security projects, community schools, the abundant impact of AIDS/HIV, and orphans.  Which each are there own can of worms...for a later date. 

So here I am...I have made it through community entry and the beautiful people of Zambia have welcomed me with open arms and a list of hopeful projects.  The reality is, I already care deeply for my community and I wouldn't change my posting for any other!

Oh, did I mention I have tried caterpillar, whole fish (i mean it all), and.....wait for it.....field mice!  AHHHHHH....mentally couldnt get over it, but it tasted sooo good.  Lol, when in Africa :)

 

Until next time...Peace and Love from Zambia!

 

**warning** please keep in mind that I write them very similar to what I would a journal entry, they are not meant to be a professional publication...just my thoughts and feelings. Some days are good, some are bad, and some fluctuate from moment to moment.  My life here and the reality that is presented to me (or at least my interpretation of it) fluctuate moment to moment, day to day.  I have nothing but love for the people of Zambia, but as Peace Corps claims, "it's the hardest job you will ever love".   I am finding myself at home here in Zambia, none the less, difficult moments exist.  I am trusting, as my friends reading this, you will enter this blog with an open mind and heart.  I miss you all more than words can say and hope you enjoy this occasional snap shot into this experience.  Oh, and they reflect my personal views, not those of US Peace Corps or the US Government J