Walishiba, Nalishiba Ati Bonse Tuli Bantu...Walishiba, Nalishiba Ati Bonse Tulapitamo Fyashupa

Title Explnation: "You know and I know that we are all people, you know and I know that we will all get through the difficult things together." - Lyrics from the song "mailo" by K'milian, a popular Zambian artist.

Written October 7, 2009


Hello to my dear friends, family and any welcome strangers keeping up with this blog. It seems that time passes by more rapidly as I get further and further into my Peace Corps service and I’ve been finding it increasingly difficult to make the time to write and tell you about the past few months of my Zambian life. I have seen the steepest of highs and the deepest of lows recently in the roller coaster of emotions I have been riding since February 2008. I suppose I will choose to end this entry on a happy note, meaning I will tell you about my most recent challenges and difficulties first.
On August 8 life showed its unjust side with the death of my 35-year-old host brother Godwin. There were too many reasons why his death was so tragic; the age at which his life ended, the fact that he left a wife and five young children behind, that I watched my host mother bury a son in a grave right next to her husband’s, who had died just two short weeks earlier. Part of me is still struggling to understand such tragedy. My heart still feels sorrow, guilt, pain and emptiness as I think about it.
The circumstances of Ba Godwin’s death are still unclear, but I am certain that it was related to complications having to do with his HIV positive status. Part of me wishes to describe to you in detail the enormous effects this virus has had on members of my host family, even beyond the heavy burden of grief they have experienced in recent months. Part of me wants everyone to understand the type of heartache I have witnessed, only experiencing a mere fraction for myself of what my host family gone through.
But the other part of me also feels like this situation is somehow too personal for my host family, perhaps too poignant for me to merely describe in a public blog. There are many lessons and observations I have made about HIV/AIDS that I would love to share in person upon my return to the States if anyone is very interested. For now though I will simply say that Ba Godwin’s death has impacted me profoundly. Before his death it was so easy to pretend that the suffering of HIV was a thing of the past. That people who become infected with the virus simply can go on ARVs and live long, healthy lives. It was so easy for me to pretend that the symbols and objects of HIV in Zambia were limited to red ribbons, signs promoting abstinence and perhaps the ubiquitous SUVs promoting mobile testing and ARV services.
Now, though, when I think of the acronym HIV a medley of memories runs through my mind. I think of the empty house on my compound where Ba Godwin and his family once lived (his wife and children have since moved to her parent’s compound). I remember the face of Ba Godwin’s oldest son (also named Godwin) as he sprinkled dust onto his father’s grave as well as the face of his four-year-old son, Griven as he sat and colored with me after his father’s funeral in such an innocent way, still not understanding he would not ever see his father on this Earth again. These are just a few memories. I do not tell you these to make you also feel my sadness, but in an attempt to have more people understand that there are individual faces to all of the statistics we hear daily about those who suffer from HIV/AIDS.

Unfortunately, the impacts of HIV have not been the only hardships I have witnessed in recent months. Starting in mid-September, families’ stores of food begin to deplete and become difficult to replenish until the rains produce more harvests in late December to February (depending on how the family’s farming and gardening capabilities). Most villagers rarely begin to have food security again until March. Villagers refer to this time period as “hunger season”.
Obviously I was living in Zambia this time last year as well, but I can not remember being as affected emotionally by “hunger season” as I have found myself to be this year. Last year I remember “pretending” to myself (I think as a coping mechanism) that “hunger” season was just an exaggeration for a time period where villagers have fewer crops to snack on. I refused to believe that villagers actually feel real hunger.
This year, changes in my life have forced me to realize the sad truth that there is in fact little food available during these months. Last year I ate nearly all my meals alone after cooking “muzungu” food for myself which I had bought in Mkushi. Over the course of the past six months however I have been eating supper more frequently at my friend Paxina’s house until it had become typical for me to eat with her family every night. I have been trying to contribute my share to these meals; sometimes supplying charcoal to cook on or beans or rape (collard greens) for all of us to eat with the nshima Paxina makes. When I first started eating with her host family I felt a bit self-conscious; wondering if I was a burden to have over every night, worrying I was overstaying my welcome she had so warmly extended to me. But that worry of intruding on her family gradually subsided as I realized it pleased Paxina to have me over just as much as it provided me the joy of sharing a meal and conversation with other people.
Since hunger season has begun I am facing more of an ethical dilemma which goes far deeper than me worrying about whether I am overstepping a family’s boundary. This worry is different because Paxina is always sure to give me the biggest and best portions of food. Of course she is following the rules of warm Zambian hospitality and ensuring that her visitor and guest (I can never seem to shake these labels off no matter how much time passes) is fully satisfied. But what am I to do if she gives me the meatiest fish to eat while her family shares one tiny, bony fish? What am I to do if I am served a huge portion of beans that I know could better nourish Paxina’s three-year-old daughter, whose body is in such need of protein?
It would be culturally inappropriate of me to explain such guilty feelings to Paxina and would most likely be taken as an insult if I only ate a small quantity of the food she has served me. So lately and reluctantly I have been limiting my nightly visits to Paxina’s house to once a week. I pretend I have gotten busier at night as an excuse for my absence and try to make up for it by chatting with Paxina on walks to and from Fiwila. I am not sure whether or not she understands that I have been coming over less often because of food supply or not.
Additionally I have been trying to provide my host family with protein-rich foods a few times a week. I realize there are various risks in doing this. Peace Corps stresses not giving “hand outs” to anyone and to solely focus on knowledge sharing. I am aware of the fact that I might be increasing their dependency on a fleeting source of food because I only have six months until I leave them for my home in the States. I am also aware that many members of Fiwila are extremely jealous of my host family simply because of the fact that I live on their compound. If they were to discover the various foods I provide my family with from time to time it would only increase their envy.
I am aware of the drawbacks to boosting my family’s nutrition yet I still do it. Sometimes it is just right to go against generic rules. I do not think I could live there and feel okay with myself if I didn’t. I also feel like the circumstances of the two deaths in my host family so close to the season of hunger also justifies me to do what I’ve been doing. Funerals are generally expensive in most parts of the world and Zambia is little exception to that fact. Both my family and I understand it has been a particularly difficult year for them and they have been working hard to ensure they have plentiful harvests next year. They have fetched my water, swept my yard, given me gifts of food, looked out for my safety and security and helped me care for my pets over the past 18 months without asking for anything in return. I think I can “hand out” a small amount of food in return.

Well, now that we’ve gotten through the difficult news, let me tell you about the fun, happy stuff! On August 15 I took a much needed break from the hardships of village life and headed on a month long road trip with my friends Patrick, Julia and Alec through Namibia and on down to Cape Town, finishing in Johannesburg. It was wonderful to have the ease of our own transportation in the Toyota Yaris we picked up in Windhoek, the capital of Namibia. I also feel lucky to have seen such a significant chunk of Southern Africa this way; not visiting solely the major cities and tourist destinations but also the places in between. The landscapes of Southern Africa are stunning. Zambia of course has some beautiful views and national parks, but it was so refreshing to see some geographic diversity. We saw open plains scattered with African animals, vast deserts of sand dunes that eventually met the sea, spectacular mountain ranges, and valleys scattered with annual wildflowers.
In addition to the geographic diversity, it was fascinating to get a taste of how countries in Southern Africa can vary in levels of development as well as culture. Many parts of Namibia felt more like Western Europe to me than stereotypical Africa; I was shocked at how developed it was. We saw so many different skin colors in the two countries we visited; the blacks in Nambia seemed to have different shades of skin than the blacks in Zambia. There were such large populations of white people almost everywhere we visited. I only wish I had more time to better understand the current race relations in these areas. There was still much evidence of the painful past of apartheid in both Namibia and South Africa; one major example being the dilapidated townships on the outskirts of sparkling, prosperous cities. There is still large evidence of a stark contrast between the privileged and the poor. Namibia and South Africa were also different because there was little evidence of rural communities or villages along the main road, whereas in Zambia you see thatched roofs on top or mud huts littered along the way between main towns.
We had such wonderful experiences on our journey! We climbed massive sand dunes, went sea-kayaking with seals, walked on beaches, observed how sea salt is extracted from the ocean, explored the breathtaking Cape of Good Hope, smelled African flowers in the Kirstenboch Botanical Gardens, got drunk off of South African wine in the gorgeous vineyards of Stellenbosch, and plenty of other activities I’ll spare your envy by not mentioning. But I will tell you that we saw the following animals over the course of our month-long journey (without stepping foot into a single zoo!): a jackal, hyraxes, elephants, hyenas, warthogs, right whales, dolphins, seals, African penguins, baboons, ostriches, impala, a Springbok, giraffes, flamingos, pelicans, numerous beautiful pure-bred dogs (hey you don’t see those in the village!), and so many more I know I am forgetting. At least you get the idea.
We also made sure to satisfy our appetites with any food other than nshima, tomato, cabbage, beans or Soya pieces. I think we could have won some sort of award for the amount of food we ate in addition to how diverse it was. Anyone reading this most likely has access to all the foods we ate and could care less about it, but I am proud of the fact that after 16 months in the bush we got to savor Thai food, sushi, prawns, angel fish, fresh salads, hummus, Chinese food, German food, any and all types of meat, pizza, hummus, burritos, cheese, cheese, cheese, bagels! Not to mention the diverse options of beer available to us. I have to stop typing these out considering I currently can’t get my hands on any of these delicacies! I don’t want my mouth watering too much.

Not surprisingly, I found it a bit difficult to adjust to life back in Zambia following such a pleasurable, comfortable, stimulating vacation. But, as always, it is beneficial for me to think happy thoughts and dwell on the positives. I have noticed lately that I am much busier with Peace Corps projects that seem more destined for success than some I tried to carry out in my first year. I am putting a lot of concentration and effort into training a group of high school students to educate their peers about sexual health, decision making and HIV/AIDS. This training has been rewarding and has kept me busy. I am also preparing for and am greatly looking forward to Camp GLOW in December, which you hopefully have already heard about somehow. If you haven’t, I’ll be reporting on it later. 
Although I often find myself counting the days until I will be back home with all of you, I know I still have many lessons to learn, things to accomplish first and events to look forward to. For one thing, there are green, marble sized buds growing on the mango trees outside of my hut. And in less than a few months’ time I will be enjoying their delicious fruit! Better yet, when they are ready for plucking, my wonderful sister will be here visiting with me. I can’t wait to show her my life here then travel to Zanzibar together.
And I also try to remember how lucky I am any time I have the privilege of receiving a heartwarming smile from any of the village children surrounding me. I try and remember that these moments are limited.

Until next time, I love you all!