Hello from inside my hut, where I am safely tucked in bed and under my mosquito net! I heard this week that another volunteer had internet service in her house, so I inquired about the equipment and now, for just a little over 50 U.S. dollars, I have the modem that lets me connect to the internet while in the village! Technology is a beautiful thing! I hope that now I will be a bit better at keeping up with this blog.
I know it has been a while, and it is time to update you on what I have been up to since arriving at site. I hope you have enjoyed looking at the pictures. I will continue to send flash drives with more photos and videos for my mom to post, because internet here is too slow for me to get them online. Hopefully, my updates will help better describe what you see, however, they may not always be posted at the same time as the pictures.
After swear-in on September 24th, the day on which I became an official Peace Corps Volunteer, I entered what Peace Corps calls “community entry,” a 3 month period of time where new volunteers are supposed to remain within their districts, not travel, not do any major work, and focus on getting to know their communities and existing health system. Below you will find my observations during that time, as well as general descriptions of my life here in Zambia. Enjoy!
My Living Situation
I am stationed in the Eastern Province of Zambia, specifically in Chipata district, very near to the provincial capital. I live on a family compound with the Ngoma family. In the local language, Ngoma means “drum.” I have quite a few Zam family members, so let me introduce them to you.
Host Father: Atate Ngoma (Atate = Father)
Atate is about 56 years old and father of 8 children (3 from a previous marriage, and 5 from his current wife). He is not only my host father, but also my counterpart (aka my link to the community, the person that serves as translator at meetings and helps plan and organize community gatherings on my behalf). He also takes wonderful care of my property and is very concerned with my safety. He is a well-educated village resident, speaks English very well, and loves Dolly Parton and the Beatles! He is fairly well-off in the community, as he has a 4 room house with a tin roof, owns a bike and cell phone, as well as a few solar panels that store enough energy to provide a few hours of light in the evenings and charge his phone.
Host Mother: Amai Ngoma (Amai = Mother)
Amai is in her late 40s and is mother to 7 children (2 from a previous marriage (which ended in a scandal when her husband was “stolen” by another woman in the village, so I am told) and 5 from her current marriage with atate). Amai is very very skinny for having birthed 7 kids, and has a harsh-looking expression on her face most of the time, however, under the surface, she is a very caring woman that is genuinely concerned with my well-being, specifically my nshima consumption (the staple food here). Amai’s English skills are not as strong as those of Atate, but usually we are able to communicate through a mixture of Chinyanja, English, hand gestures, and lots of laughter.
Host Brothers and Sisters
Out of the 5 children Amai and Atate have together, only 4 live here in the village. The second born son is away living with an aunt and going to a better school than the village has to offer, because Atate believes he is the brightest of all the children. I have spent just a brief period of time with Danny, as he has only come to visit on his December holiday from school to see the family and help with planting in the fields.
David is my oldest Zam brother. He is about 19 years old and just passed his grade nine exams. Because the village school does not offer grades 10-12, he will have to go to boarding school if he wants to further his education. He is an overall sweet kid, but here lately, he has been testing the waters of his independence and thereby testing the patience and forgiveness of Amai and Atate. Chasing after girls, drinking, and coming home late at night have caused a rift between him and his parents. I hope that if he is permitted to go to boarding school, he straightens up, but I am sure this will come only after further exercising his independence, as is typical of any other 19 year old male across the globe. I will keep you posted on where he ends up.
Lunia is the oldest daughter, age 13, and in grade 7. Her name means jealousy, but she was named after an aunt, so I don’t think that the meaning is any reflection on her personal character (and I have never met the aunt to see if the name better fits her). Her English skills are not that strong, so we don’t usually sit around having any deep conversations or anything, but we have enough in common that we can both appreciate a good shade of nail polish and sit together to play beauty parlor. Amai deals in used clothes, so occasionally, Lunia will emerge from the house in a new piece of evening wear, and will saunter across the yard to go to the market to buy tomatoes. These moments always make my day!
Hilda is the next in line, named after her mother , 10 years old, and in grade 4. Atate says that she is brighter than her older sister, and I have observed that she did very well in school at the closing day of the term in December. Hilda is much more fascinated with me and eager to sweep my house and tote my water than Lunia – perhaps it is an age thing. Her English skills are pretty much on par with those of her sister though, so no real deep conversations with her either. She is very playful, enjoys jumping rope and playing tic-tac-toe (which I taught her), and loves to make ridiculously loud noises and impersonations of neighboring villagers, which are somewhat amusing for the first 5 minutes.
Lastly, there is the baby, John, but said “Joanie.” He is about 5 or 6 and hasn’t yet started school. During the first few weeks at site, he was my constant companion, falling asleep in my lap at the end of each day. The novelty of the white girl living in his front yard has lessened somewhat, but still remains quite strong. He enjoys sitting on my stoop, following me around, dancing for my entertainment, giving me high fives, and escorting me back to my house at night after supper (upon leaving me at my door he says “good morning!”). He is really cute, but definitely the spoiled baby in the family who has become especially good at throwing fits when he doesn’t get his way. He recently received a new bike, and within one day, learned how to balance so that he could go riding with me on the paths surrounding the family’s compound.
Family Dynamics
Male dominance is the norm in Zambian society, and my family is no exception. Atate goes first in most anything. For example, he is usually the first to wash his hands and begin filling his plate at any meal. Respecting one’s elders is of huge importance, and thus it is appropriate for a woman or child to often kneel before an elder or a man when posing a question or giving and receiving something from their hands. My host sisters kneel every time they present Atate with something. Everyone in the family works hard, especially my 13 and 10 year old sisters. The sweep, haul water, wash clothes and dishes, cook meals, as well as help in the fields. They are usually busy with these tasks around the clock, minus the time they are not at school or sleeping. The family would fall apart if not for these two. Amai does similar tasks, but works a little less intensely due to her seniority and doctor’s orders to do lighter work. Atate works very hard in the fields and around the house and community. Just the other day, he spent the entire morning hauling the family’s maize to the mill to be ground, and today he assisted in the building of a coffin and burying and older community member that just passed away. For 56, he is strong as an ox, and works so relentlessly that any chance he has to sit for a period of 2 minutes, he immediately falls asleep. David, the oldest son also helps haul water at times, take maize to the mill, and work in the family’s fields. He has his own plot of cotton to help pay for his school fees.
Crops and Cooking
Every family in the community is allocated fields by the chief to grow the crops that will sustain them throughout the year. My family’s fields are about a 20-30 minute walk from their house and are planted with mango trees, cotton, ground nuts, maize, pumpkin, rape, and another legume that I cannot remember the name of. Other crops in the area include tobacco, okra, tomato, an eggplant-like veggie, avocado, lemons, oranges, bananas, papaya, onions, cabbage, soy beans, sunflowers, and beans.
Because I live essentially in the Ngoma family’s front yard, I am treated as their daughter and take meals with them usually twice a day. Lunch is served really late, usually between 2-3 pm, due to the family’s busy morning being filled with chores. Dinner is between 7-8 pm. The staple food here is nshima. This is milled maize that is cooked in boiling water. There is a right and a wrong way to cook nshima. The right way involves a particular stirring technique, appropriate water temperature, and good deal of patience and physical strength. I am working on my skills, but am not yet fully capable of seeing a large pot cooked to completion, because the substance turns as thick as glue in the final stages, and I lack the upper body strength to continue stirring to the end. If done correctly, the final product is something like grits left to harden in the pot a bit. The cook then scoops out lumps of nshima using a special nshima scooper. What is then presented at the table is a malleable substance that is broken off bit by bit, rolled around in the hand, and used as a vessel to transport other foods (called “relish”) to the mouth – an edible fork, if you will. In an area with no dish washers, much less running water, cutting down on utensils to wash is not a bad idea, plus, eating with the hands is quite fun. I have really taken to nshima, and enjoy eating it more than some of my fellow volunteers. As I mentioned earlier, nshima is a close cousin to grits, so to a southern gal like myself, ground corn served hot is not a foreign concept to me.
Nshima is always the main course served at every meal, accompanied by relish (aka sides – protein (if lucky) and veggies). Relish at my house is typically a vegetable, usually cabbage, rape, or pumpkin leaves (my favorite, especially when cooked with pounded ground nuts) all cooked in oil with onions, tomato, and salt. Protein is usually scarce, so whenever I eat with the family, I prepare a relish that is a protein source – typically beans, lentils, or soya pieces (think textured vegetable protein, only tastier than what you can get in America.) It always amazes me the little amount of relish that is placed on the table. By using nshima, the family is able to stretch out what little there is, so that everyone gets a taste. It is heartbreaking of course, as a dietitian, to know that my family is not fed appropriately, but part of my job here is to educate on that matter, so I certainly have my work cut out for me.
My House
My house tour video is coming soon, but until then, here is a quick preview. I live in a traditional mud house with a grass thatched roof. I have two rooms – a bedroom that is pretty much taken up completely by my bed and a few suitcases, and a main room that serves as an office, food prep area, as well as a gym, whenever I take a notion to exercise. The outside of my house is in keeping with that of my neighbors’ homes, save for a beautiful Carolina blue stripe I just painted around the base the other day. The inside, however, is a bit different, as it is full of furniture made by the local carpenter, and plastic storage bins, luxuries that many of my neighbors cannot afford. The inside walls were also painted, one of the first home projects I undertook during my first week at site. I chose the colors cream and sky blue, going for a cozy Martha Stuart cottage-type them, and I am so glad I did, because it made my hut quite bright and inviting.
Living in a house made of mud and grass is quite charming, but it also comes with its share of needed maintenance. The mud walls are perfect hiding places for termites and the roof beams are an awesome environment for weevils, both of which you can hear chomping away at night if you stand still and listen really close. The termites aren’t so out of control yet, any time they burrow out of the wall, creating a little mud appendage on my pretty paint job, I just chisel it off with a butter knife, thinking that they will at least be distracted enough with the repair work to keep them from building new ones. (It usually takes them just a few hours to build it up again). The weevils were a bit more problematic, as the more they chewed through my roof beams, the more dust fell into my house. Before putting up plastic to line the roof and catch the dust, it looked like it had snowed in my house each morning when I woke up. At present, my house is rid of neither of these 2 new roommates, but as long as they stay where they are and don’t cause my house to cave in over the course of my stay, I think we will get along just fine.
I have a lovely round meeting shelter right outside my front door. The shelter is also meant for cooking, however, due to weevil dust showers, I usually cook out in the open. The shelter has instead become a sort of play pin, as I usually try to corral my tiny daily visitors to the area to keep them from hanging around my porch or peeping in my windows. I have nearly peed on myself several times due to an unexpected squeal or “salley!” behind the screen of one of my windows. I also take lunch with the family in my meeting shelter, because it contains a nice set of bamboo chairs for us to sit in during the day.
Clothing
My normal every day wear in the village is a chitenge and a tank top (gotta prevent famers tan!). A chitenge is a two meter piece of cloth wrapped tightly around the waist and falls to the ankles in order to hide the most seductive part of a woman’s body, the legs. Like nshima, I have also really embraced the chitenge. They are cheap (about 2-4 US dollars), easy to wash, and come in a variety of beautiful and wild patterns. I have already started hoarding some of them away, imagining all of the sewing projects they will inspire upon my return home!
My Village Identity
On my first visit to my village during my training period, I was given a village name. I am not sure who chose it, but I thank them for being so kind, as they named me “Chimwemwe,” meaning happiness or smiling! My host dad also christened me with a Zamified version of my own name, and now my family refers to me as “Salliwe.” I am thankful that other local names such as “Jealousy,” “Fatness,” and “Beating” didn’t make the final cut. Chimwemwe is fun to say and keeps me smiling every time I hear it!
Greetings
If there is one thing a newcomer to this country better get straight right away, it’s greetings. Greeting is an integral and time-consuming part of Zambian culture. Like in America, there are morning, afternoon, and evening greetings, however, unlike in America, here in Zambia, one can never bypass such exchanges for a simple tip of the hat, smile or nod. No sir! You greet in full or be forever banished and ignored by the village. I don’t go anywhere in the village without throwing out at least 10-20 “Muli Bwanji”s (how are you?). I may not be able to converse much more than that, but I’ll be darned if I don’t try to get in my proper hellos. You must start off on the right foot, you know? Having a meeting and someone comes in late? Well, of course we should halt and all 20 people in attendance greet the late comer! It’s only proper. These greetings are often accompanied by a hand over the heart, two clasped hands and a little curtsey, or, if in close proximity, a secret handshake that requires 3 movements (I am secretly very proud each time I pull this one off as coolly as if I have been shaking Zambian hands for years!). To go along with the handshake, it is also proper to touch your right forearm with your left hand as a sign of respect. Also, never be surprised when your handshake partner holds on longer than most Americans would deem more than enough sufficient to say hello. Zambians like to linger on this, so I have learned to just go with it and not be too much of a limp noodle. While it may seem as if I am poking fun at this tradition, please understand that this is not the intent of this post. Greeting in this way has just been one of the many cultural differences I have noted between my home country and Zambia. I have really come to appreciate the time Zambians take to inquire about one another and the acknowledgement of everyone’s presence. It is actually quite a beautiful thing to watch.
Work
Now that community entry is over, us new volunteers are expected to do more than just sit around with our neighbors and each nshima. We are supposed to get to work and get the ball rolling on sustainable development. Here in my community, I can tell that the ball is going to roll really slowly, however, from talking to more experienced volunteers, I knew to expect this, and am not in complete shock. I have instead decided to find a new hobby to keep me busy when meetings are canceled, or no one decides to show up (I will keep you posted on what I decided).
Here is a bit of background on my project and community:
I am I the CHIP program – Community Health Improvement Project. All CHIP volunteers are placed within a reasonable distance of a rural health center and are expected to help strengthen the community’s existing health structure via co-training, co-facilitating, and co-planning with local groups, clubs, and health committees. Peace Corps model of sustainable development uses “co” in many of its descriptions of the volunteer’s role, as the whole idea behind the work that we do is to essentially “work ourselves out of a job” by the end of our service, and have our communities carry on with the projects we started or strengthened together as a team. Because we are not supposed to move in and take over (which is somewhat difficult for a bossy older sister like myself), we are expected to work closely with local counterparts and share the leading role. My first counterpart has been my Atate (host dad), because he speaks excellent English, is well-educated, and is a prominent and respected member of the community who people will listen to. He also seems to have a pretty good grasp of Peace Corps mission. I am working on getting to know other members of the community a bit better, and hope to have more than just one counterpart (preferably find a female, so that I can reach women’s groups a bit better).
My clinic has just two paid employees (a nurse and an environmental health technologist), and serves approximately 8,500 individuals living in an area composed of several hundred villages, the furthest from the clinic being a 4+ hour journey on foot that crosses 3 rivers. The clinic is also staffed with volunteers from the community that donate their time and efforts to help weigh babies, distribute medicines, and educate on health topics such as prevention of mother to child transmission of HIV. Some of these volunteers have been formally trained, but many have not, and are holding positions that should only be reserved for qualified personnel. However, with only 2 paid employees and 8,500+ people to care for they do their best to serve those that need medical care.
To serve as organizers, educators and spokespersons for their community’s health priorities, the clinic’s catchment area has been divided into 8 neighborhoods, each containing a representative body called an NHC (neighborhood health committee). Meeting the NHCs is a great place to start as a health volunteer, as it is important to see how organized the committees are and determine what community leaders think are their area’s greatest health priorities. I have currently met with 5 of my 8 NHCs, and am waiting to hear about the remaining 3 who have cancelled on me or not replied to my request to schedule a meeting. From what I have observed thus far, it looks like starting from square one with most of the group is what my first priority will be. Training the NHC members on their role within the community is so important, because many people join the committee because they want prestige or given a seat because they already have prestige, and do not fully understand the responsibility they have to their community. Starting with simple things such as the 5 roles of the NHC, as laid out by the Zambian Ministry of Health, is where I will begin with many of the groups. Other vital groundwork is holding elections, and writing the group constitutions. So much of my work will be organizational before I can get started with any major health projects.
I have also met with my local drama group (the villagers love skits!) that performs skits about health and my local HIV support group. Like the NHCs, both groups need to start from ground one and get organized before we really make any major headway with health education. For my second meeting with the HIV group, a whopping 2 members showed up out of the original 15 that came to the first meeting. Apparently, this poor showing was due to the fact that I did not hand out free stuff during the initial meeting, as was explained to me by the returning two members. Discouraging? Yes, a bit, but not completely unexpected. I am planning to remedy this by holding meetings closer to members’ homes, and see if that helps improve the turnout. I will let you know if it works.
Another project in the works is a school health club, if only I can convince the headmaster that “no, I am not here to provide the school with free sports equipment.” Oh dear! I can tell that a lot of what I will do here is continue to explain what Peace Corps is and how sustainable development works. I am what is called a “first generation” volunteer, meaning that I am the first volunteer to live and work at my site, and if all goes well with me, 2 others will follow so that the community has a volunteer for 6 straight years. Being first gen, I expected to have to lay a lot of ground work, my main responsibility being to assist in creating more organized groups for the following volunteers to work with (I asked to be first gen, because I like doing this sort of thing). I am up for the challenge, though I know progress will happen pangono pangono (bit by bit). I’ll keep you updated on my future endeavors!
Zanzibar
Towards the end of training, a few of my fellow volunteers and I decided to plan a Christmas vacation as something to look forward to during the 3 tedious months of community entry that lay before us. We agreed that the exotic location of Zanzibar would be the perfect get-away after 3 months of uninterrupted village life. The trip began with a train ride from Zambia’s central province, and all the way through Tanzania to Dar Es Salaam. The train ride was a two and a half day adventure. I will skip over the part where our sleeper car reservations were misplaced, forcing us to spend the first night in the bar car that smelled like urine and was home to at least 3 rats, to the part where we spent hours looking at the windows at the beautiful scenery. Tanzania was really lovely to watch roll by as I held my head out the window. Towards the end of the ride, we drove through a game park where we saw warthogs, primates, impala, giraffe, and many beautiful birds. The mood, which was slightly depressed (for all passengers) after traveling for 2 days un-showered, in cramped quarters with other stinky folks picked up considerably as the first animal sightings were made. There was a real sense of camaraderie when you’d hear someone shout “over here!” when they spotted an animal on their side of the train. Running back and forth from side to side was a fun task as the train rocked along the tracks.
By the time we arrived in Dar Es Salaam, several hours after our anticipated arrival time, it was quite dark, and all we wanted to do was get to our hotel, take a hot shower, and sleep in a real bed with a real pillow and sheets that hopefully hadn’t been used by the room’s previous occupants (as was the case on the train). The following morning, we woke and headed to the ferry, gripping our bags tightly as we boarded, due to warning that the ferry was prime pick-pocketing territory. I think that the ride to the island was about 2 hours, but I am not exactly certain, because this seasick-prone traveler forgot to pack her motion sickness medicine and spent most of the ride with her eyes closed, trying not to vomit. Once on solid ground, however, I felt much better, and after passing through immigration and filling out paperwork, I was welcomed into the alleyways of Stone Town. We spent three nights in Stone Town and filled our days there with shopping, eating and some more eating. The next three nights were spent in what was like a tree house at a beach on the northern end of the island (Kendwa Rocks) - it was very Swiss Family Robinson. The following three nights were spent at a Paje, a beach on the eastern part of the island. Both beaches were absolutely beautiful, and we spent lots of time lounging in the sun, eating seafood under thatched umbrellas on the shore, and floating in the water. We did get out for a few activities as well – spice tour, snorkeling, kayaking, as well as swimming with dolphins. See the pictures for more info on those.
Overall, it was a beautiful and relaxing trip. We returned to Stone Town for another night before boarding the ferry back to Dar the following morning. We rode the train again on our way back to Zambia, and I will again skip over the part where we almost didn’t get tickets and 3 of us had to sit in 4th class for the 1st night in a car meant for 40, but occupied by 300 Tanzanians crammed in with their extended families, many of whom refused to use the actual exists and jumped in and out using the car’s windows, to the part where we arrived safely home with all of our luggage and belongings intact, minus one passport that was found and returned a few days later.
Upon returning from vacation, we headed straight to a two week workshop in Lusaka, Zambia’s capital. The workshop was one with our village counterparts, and was meant to help us plan and organize for work in the village. The workshop was entertaining, as the counterparts always kept the volunteers laughing and with their jokes and skits. A few of us took our counterparts out for Indian food as a thank you for attending the workshop (see the most recent pictures from site). Atate loved his first experience with Indian food, and even stopped by the front desk on the way out to tell the owners how much he enjoyed the meal and to ask “how do you say ‘thank you’ in your language?” Ha! He is just too much at times!
After the conclusion of the workshop, I returned to Eastern Province with two new suitcases full of stuff acquired in Zanzibar and Lusaka (so be prepared for some awesome gifts when I return home!). After being away for so long, I happily returned to the village and fell right back into the routine of daily nshima meals, something I had actually truly missed over vacation. Upon arrival at site, I was even hugged by Amai (host mother), a rare event if you read the previous section on “greetings,” as the secret handshake and lingering hold is about as touchy as welcomes get. My welcome by the rest of the community included about 10 side comments on how fat I had become over holiday. Eating was the main activity each day, so I wasn’t surprised. Two people even went so far as to say that my neck was fleshy enough to pinch! Being told you are fat, however, is a compliment here, meaning you look healthy and refreshed, and is not always indicative of actual weight gain. In my case, however, I was both refreshed and fluffier. I am not too concerned though, because with just a few trips hauling water my souvenir poundage will start melting away – fingers crossed!
Now that Christmas holiday is over, I have my eyes set on an Easter break safari! Cannot wait! I love this job : )
