*Note: Erin has asked that you please not send anything else to her in Africa, as she may not receive it before she comes back home to the U.S.*

February 12, 2008

Hello. Merry Christmas, Happy 2008, and Happy Valentine's Day! I haven't written in months, so I'm catching up on my holiday greetings. Last month I celebrated an important day of my own- my 2-year anniversary of arriving in Zambia. I'll be honest, there've been times when I thought the 2-year mark would never get here, but now that it's come and gone, I can't believe how soon I'll be leaving this place.

This holiday season (hopefully my last Christmas apart from family) was spent in Mozambique, which was an incredible vacation spot... Although I was welcomed back to Zambia in true Zambian form- with a leaky roof directly above my bed and a moldy pillow and sheets! I was soon to find out that moldy bedding would be the least of my problems over the upcoming weeks. Within the past month I've contracted 2 separate bouts of pink-eye, ringworm, a poisonous spider bite (same as the 1 I had in 2006), a sprained thumb (biking hazard), and a bot fly (more about this to come). Thankfully, I'm feeling fine now... so no worries!

Well, without anymore stalling, here's a few snap-shot stories of the life of a Peace Corps volunteer:

A Mozambique Holiday

A few days before Christmas a small group of Peace Corps volunteers and I took a short flight from Lusaka to Johannesburg, South Africa. From there we took a bus ride (I think it was about 10 hours long) to the captial of Mozambique, Maputo (pronounced "Maputu"). We didn't have our travel visas for Mozambique ready (although we tried! Their embassy in Lusaka wouldn't give them to us), so when the bus operator found out that we didn't have all the right stamps on our passports, he almost didn't let us get on the bus! We pleaded and pleaded, and we finally came to the understanding that if the acquisition of our visas begins to hold up the bus in any way once we hit the border, then the bus operator would unload our bags and simply leave us at the border... No problem! We just wanted on that bus (which we'd already paid for)- we'd worry about the border when we got there. In our view, it'd be a better scenario to get stranded at the border and have to hitch-hike the rest of the way into Mozambique than to stay the night at the Jo'Burg bus station and try to figure out alternate transporation.

Once we arrived at the border, we got off the bus and literally ran to the desks of the border patrol officers, which was in a sort of outdoor warehouse. We must have cut in front of 100 people who we are pretty sure were cussing at us in Portuguese. Fortunately, the visas only took about 10 minutes to get, then we ran back to the bus to see if it was still there... It was, with all of our bags sitting on the ground next to it, ready to take off without us. As I picked up my bag, I did a little dance and waved my passport at the bus operator- He smiled... It was about time he chilled out!

We visited Maputo, which reminded me of a city you'd find in Europe, not Africa. All of the streets were paved and the sidewalks were lined with small shops and cafes. The country speaks only Portuguese, so getting around and ordering food proved to be a little more difficult than we thought it'd be.

From Maputo we travelled to Villanculos, a small village on the beach. Oh, let me tell you about the spectacular beach! It was like jumping inside a tropical postcard, then walking on the sand, going for a swim, and laying out in the sun. Beautiful crystal-blue waters and coconut trees everywhere. We were camping out at a backpacker's place, and on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I asked the owners if I could play my ipod on the stereo down by the bar and picnic tables that were there. They agreed, and I played non-stop Christmas carols... I'll admit that it feels a little ridiculous listening to Bing Crosby while you're wriggling your toes into the sand and re-applying sunscreen.

We met another group of Peace Corps volunteers who serve in Lesotho, and they were also on Christmas vacation (...They appreciated the carolling! I think some other guests got annoyed). One night we bought some fresh fish from the local market and had a cook-out with them. We basted the fish in butter and wine, wrapped them in coconut leaves, and grilled them over the fire. Then we asked the cooks at the bar to make us a big platter of Mozambique's staple food- which I don't remember what it's called, but it's essentially the same as maize nshima, the staple food of Zambia... It turned out to be such a wonderful meal. Probably my favorite meal of the trip.

After leaving Villanculos, we made a brief stop at Barra Reef, a huge holiday destination for white South Africans and Africaaners, then it was on to Tofo (said "tofu")- probably the biggest tourist hotspot in all of Mozambique. It was AMAZING. We camped there for about a week (and I would have stayed much longer if I didn't have a plane to catch). The beach was spacious and picturesque. Little boys walked around selling fresh roasted cashews and sea shell necklaces. The waves were enormous- frightening even- and I saw several surfers on them. I took scuba diving classes and got scuba certified while I was there... I saw some of the most incredibly bright-colored fish and reef! On New Year's Eve we walked a short distance down the beach to join a beach party hosting hundreds of backpackers. At midnight fireworks were shot out over the ocean... It was all just as I'd hoped it'd be- absolutely unforgettable.

The Infamous Bot Fly

"The Tumbu fly, cordylobia Anthropophaga, affects both humans and animals. The female fly deposits her eggs (over 100 eggs at a time) on soil, sand, and clothing that is drying in the sun. When the eggs hatch, the larvae can penetrate the skin of the host and produce a boil. In 8-9 days the larvae mature, wiggle out of the boil and fall to the ground. The most common sites for penetration are the arms, back, buttocks, scrotum, and thighs. Several lesions may be present.

The boil from the larvae is red and painful. The maggot can be seen at the center of the boil. When the mature larvae drops out of the boil, a pit is left in the center.

Treatment consists of removal of the larvae. Apply a thick oil or petroleum jelly over the entire boil. This suffocates the maggot and backs it out of the boil. The maggot can then be removed with tweezers or forceps. Care must be taken to prevent crushing the larvae and causing a more severe hypersensitivity response or subsequent infection. Clean the boil well with soap and water and cover until healed. Antibiotics may be needed to treat a secondary infection, if present.

Avoiding contact with the eggs is the primary prevention. Never lay clothes on the ground to dry. Iron all clothing with a hot iron to kill any eggs that may have contaminated the cloth. Do not sit or lie directly on the ground or sand. Treat the boil as soon as you notice it." -Peace Corps Zambia Medical Handbook

Yes, I had a Tumbu fly. It's more commonly known as a bot fly (probably since most people get them on their butts). I thought it would be fun to tell you about my bot fly experience by quoting everything I had to say about it directly from my journal. Here goes:

January 18, 2008

".... I think I have a bot fly. I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. It's on my back, just right of center, on my waistline. It's precisely where I wear the belt of my trousers, so it must be from when I wore a pair of jeans that were slightly damp along the waistline about a week ago. It hurts. I thought it was a mosquito bite at first, but it pangs from time to time (which is the worm moving around) and it doesn't itch. It's really sensitive, and it sort of has a hard center. So far it's just red and a little swollen but I've seen bot flies that have gotten huge and blue/purple and oozy and gooky. I'm just hoping it's not 1 of those. I slathered Vaseline all over it today hoping that it would suffocate the worm and either kill him or cause him to crawl out (This is the recommended course of action and is supposed to work)... but nothing happened. Guess I'll just try again tomorrow..."

January 21, 2008

"... So back to the topic of bot flies. I just read in the Peace Corps Medical Handbook that they take 8-9 days to hatch. I must be somewhere around day 4. It's really red, and I think I can actually see the maggot in the center. (It's hard to tell since I have to look at it with mirrors while I'm inside my hut, which is kinda dark). It hurts less today than it did yesterday. In fact, yesterday I could feel it moving throughout the day, but today he's been pretty still. I keep trying the peroleum jelly treatment, but nothing seems to happen. I'm expecting it to get pretty big and nasty and painful in the next couple days, at which point I can let him exit my body naturally or I can go to town and get someone to help me remove him... Both options sound painful! Oh well, I'll deal with it."

January 22, 2008

"Today the bot fly is ruining my day... It aches and throbs. I feel like this guy's been moving around all day- doing aerobics even! I've checked several times to see if he's crawling out on his own, but the bump doesn't look quite ready to spurt out a maggot yet... Although it does look much worse than yesterday. I may end up hitching to town tomorrow or the next day to get someone to pull the bot fly out..."

"... WHOA- It's night-time now, and I am laying in bed in serious pain. This bot fly has got to go! It's so sensitive that if the waistband of my trousers happens to just touch it, I jerk in pain. And whenever the little shit moves around, it feels like someone is pinching the sore and twisting it. I think I can juggle a few things around so that tomorrow afternoon I can head to town and try to take care of this. NOT FUN."

January 23, 2008

"... I came into town today to deal with the bot fly. I can't get over how painful that thing was... Anyway, I had 2 volunteers help me. I laid down on a mattress and they smeared a thick layer of petroleum jelly over the boil. In less than a minute the maggot began to emerge. He stuck his head out and sort of moved it around, but then he tried to retreat back into the hold. I had called the Peace Corps nurse beforehand, and she had told me that as soon as he begins to do that, you have to squeeze at the base of the boil, like you're trying to pop a huge pimple. This closes the canal and blocks the fly's passageway so that he has nowhere to go but out.

They were squeezing the boil, but the stubborn maggot didn't want to move. He just wanted to stay put, with about 3 millimeters of himself sticking out. After maybe 5 or 10 minutes (It felt like forever, but was probably no more than 10 minutes)... and after a lot of squeezing, he finally wiggled all the way out. Instantly, all of the pain was gone! I mean, the very moment that he exited I felt 100 times better! The nurse had said there'd be instant relief, but I didn't think there could possibly be so much relief so fast!

By the end of the day the swelling and redness were almost totally gone (although there's quite a big hole where he crawled out that continues to ooze.) We measured the maggot by laying him on a ruler- He was 1 full centimeter! He was bigger than I was expecting, and much fatter too."

So that's the saga of my bot fly. Within a few days the sore was just a small scab and looked like any old bug bite... You know, I always imagined that there might come a special day in my 20's when I'd give birth to a beautiful child- not a maggot. Life is full of surprises, huh?

Nkumba

As I was writing out this website entry, my little neighbor Shad (in grade 1) walked by with a big leaf in his hands. It looked like it was kinda heavy, and something was obviously bundled up inside. I could have sworn it was a leaf full of guts.

"Cinshi nshi?" I asked ("What is that?") He looked up at me and said, "nkumba," then continued walking to his house with his little package. Nkumba... That's pig. A little 1st grader just walked by with a leaf full of pig guts. Gotta love Zambia!

A Few Final Thoughts...

Well, as most of you already know, my 27 months of Peace Corps service are coming to an end. In fact, my official last day is April 16- only 2 months away. I can't describe how quickly- and how slowly- this time has passed. It is truly a different world here, one that must be experienced to be understood. The things I've written don't even scratch the surface of what a journey this has been for me.

I've probably learned more about myself than I have about Bemba culture... Trust me, spend 2 years alone in a mud hut and you learn to really look in the mirror. I've had more medical issues than I care to recall, and I once ate the exact same meal everyday for a month straight. My bike has given me a couple good scars, but you really can't blame it for throwing me off when I talk to it all the time like a madwoman. I've seen bats and snakes, I've been bitten by spiders and ticks, I've been called "fat," "so very fat," "huge," and "oh so fat... My god, you're just fat!"

I've also made a friend whom I've grown to love like a family member- Rhodah. And I'm happy to announce that she was married in November and is now expecting a new baby! We're both hoping for a girl. I think Erin would be a nice name, but Rhodah just laughs at me.

There are some children in my village who are regular visitors to my house. Sometimes we color, sometimes they'll sing and drum and dance for me, sometimes they just sit and stare at me... All of those fun moments, irritating moments, and even mundane moments all add up to a bunch of kids I'll never forget. And no matter how old we all grow up to be, they'll always be between 4 and 10 years old in my mind. I'll never get to know what becomes of them in the future, but I love them all the same... and I'll miss them terribly.

To say that I am experiencing some mixed emotions about returning to the States would be a gross understatement. Yes, I'm ready to see my family again. Yes, I'm looking forward to electricity. Yes, an ice cold margarita sounds so good! But to have those things I must say goodbye to so much here, so much that I've come to appreciate and love. The people, the traditions, the simplicity, the sunsets. Africa is majestic and beautiful and retains something pure that I feel we've lost touch with in the developed world. I feel at home here even though this is not my home. Someone once told me before I left that I'd "find a piece of my soul in Africa." I couldn't have put it better myself.

Thank you all for your continuous encouragement and for accompanying me on this journey. I should be home in mid-May. See you then!

Shalenipo na Lesa Mupale (Stay well and god bless you),

Erin

November 28, 2007

Muli shani bonse? Hello! Again, I know it's been far too long since the last time I've written. Not a whole lot has happened over the past few months. The rainy season is now here, and I must say that with the coming of the rains also came an unexpected rejuvination of my spirit. There is something about the smell, the new humidity, the cool mornings, and the puffy clouds in the sky that remind me of how much I really do love it here. Maybe it's because it brings me back to the beginning of rainy season last year, when I was just moving into my new hut and I was really enthusiastice about several of the projects I was working on. Or maybe it even brings me back to 2 rainy seasons ago, to my initial arrival in Zambia... Those 1st few months were the end of the rains, and I was definitely full of excitement and soaking up the beauty and culture of Africa back then. Regardless of the reasoning, I'm thankful that the rains are here and that they've begun to wash away the feelings of apathy that have tried to creep in this year.

Alright, I hope you enjoy reading through the following excerpts from my life. I suppose there is a common theme to a few of them- babies. You'll see what I mean...

Surprise in the Toilet

One day in mid-October I returned home after a little time away to find that most of the mama goats in my village had given birth to their babies. The ones that hadn't delivered yet looked miserable and ready to pop... Goats, goats, everywhere!

That afternoon I noticed a small crowd of adult men and women huddled around my pit latrine. What's so interesting about my toilet? What's going on? I wondered. I walked over to discover that a baby goat had fallen down the hole! A couple men lifted the grass thatch off and placed it on the ground (...my topless out-house looked so strange, and I actually felt a little embarrassed having all my neighbors hanging around the spot where I poop.) A long bamboo pole was lowered into the hole. Then a rope was also lowered, and before I knew it (literally, I was momentarily distracted by a bug or something and when I looked up...) they somehow hoisted up the baby goat.

He was tiny and black and COVERED in poop. He bleated and cried so loud. He couldn't have been more than 2 days old, and I imagined he was traumatized, screaming for his mother. I would be too if I had just been trapped in a shit cave, waiting to die. Poor little guy!

Return of the Seki Seki

Goats, goats, goats. When I signed up to come to Africa I never anticipated that goats would be the #1 animal I'd have to deal with- maybe snakes or crocs or, I don't know, monkeys? But not goats. Most nights they loiter around my house and wake me up at least a 1/2-dozen times. I don't even remember what a full night's sleep feels like!

One night a few weeks ago I was on the brink of goat murder... I got out of bed around 2:00 in the morning and quietly tip-toed to my front door. I was preparing to fling open the door and scream at the goats who like to congregate on my front porch. (This sometimes scares them away at least for the rest of the night). These obnoxious goats have these annoying, intolerably loud goat conversations with each other- They sound like crazy people yelling, burping, hiccupping, and crying in gibberish... but this story isn't about goats at all, it's about a much smaller annoying animal... the seki seki. As I was getting ready to swing open the front door and frighten the goats to death, I saw 2 seki seki scurrying around my rafters. (You guys remember the seki seki?... They are little grey rats with big eyes and fluffy squirrel tails). When I awoke the next morning I found a pile of shredded carrot on my desk- I must have dropped a piece of a carrot on the floor the day before and the seki seki found it and had a nice midnight snack on my desk...

About a week later I was in bed sleeping when I felt something crawling over my feet. I instinctively kicked it away and continued sleeping, letting it become part of my dream. After a few moments, I jerked myself awake and grabbed my glasses and headlamp. What was that?! I momentarily freaked out. Then I saw the little seki seki scurrying up my mosquito net and struggling to find the hole he must have climbed in through. At 1 point he almost fell back into my bed... I squealed and huddled up by my pillow. He finally managed to free himself from the confines of my net... However, he didn't leave my house.

I must have gotten up 4 times that night, trying to scare him away. He kept walking on the tops of my walls and climbing in my grass roof. I tried shining my light on him and yelling... didn't work. I tried shining my light and calling him a ridiculous string of profane names and other obscenities... still didn't work. I took my axe and smacked the wall next to him, making a grunt that sounded kinda like "wuh!!" (I must have looked like a primitive man with his 1st tool!) This caused him to scatter, but he'd return within seconds. Finally, I took some heavy duty mosquito repellant and sprayed him. That worked!...

2 mornings later, as I was getting dressed I heard a crackling, shuffling sound... Then a bunch of little squeaks (like baby birds). I could tell it was comig from just above my head, so I looked up and started to investigate my roof. Directly on top of me I could see a big (maybe 6 inches long) seki seki moving in the tight space between my clear plastic and the grass of my roof. I watched as the seki seki started nudging a small pile of bright pink babies... They immediately began to squeal and wiggle around. There were a few blots of blood smeared on the plastic sheeting around them. She must have just given birth the night before! A little to the left of the seki seki family I could see a shredded up, white, cottony clump that had an unmistakable turquoise-blue string at the corner of it... The seki seki apparently stole a tampon from me and used it to make a nest in my roof!! Sure enough, the mama seki started transferring the babies 1-by-1 to the protection of the nest.

I decided that my new tenants probably weren't going anywhere anytime soon, so I waited until that evening to have my neighbor come check it out. "Ba Friday, I have a problem. Come inside my house," I said. He came inside, and since the sun was in the process of setting, I had to find my headlamp and shine it up at the nest. "Do you see? There are animals in my roof." "Ahh..." he replied, "RATS." He smiled and had this look on his face that made me believe that he had a long-standing vendetta with the entire rat kingdom and he was about to savor this opportunity to exact revenge.

"What can we do?" I asked. Thinking out loud, he said something about tearing the plastic- but then the roof would leak. Then he said to leave them there and when they get bigger and start to crawl around my house, I could put out rat poison. Not an option. I made that clear.

Then, without even telling me what he was doing, he took my stool and positioned it beneath the nest. Then he placed a 1/2-empty jerry can of water on top of the stool and climbed on top. I moved around so my headlamp was still shining on the nest. He then found an opening where 2 sheets of plastic came together and proceeded to squeeze his arm inside. Within seconds he had the mama seki in his hand. As she tried to maneuver away from him and out of his grasp, he took her head between his thumb and forefinger and applied pressure until she was dead... He pulled her out of the roof and tossed her out onto my porch. (Of course, there were a couple kids out there and so a small chorus of "oooh" and "yangu!" came from outside).

Next, he reached back inside and gathered up the entire clump of cotton- containing all of the babies- and tossed it outside as well. One of the babies slipped out and was squirming and crying on the floor by my feet. I hated knowing that this day-old animal the size of my thumbnail was about to die... As Friday was about to step down from the jerry can, he called out, "Ah! Another one... A big one!" He reached back into the roof, squeezed the life out of what I presume was the daddy seki and tossed it on the porch.

We went outside. The kids were standing around staring at the babies as they struggled on the porch. (I was actually quite surprised that they weren't playing with them). We counted the family and -including the stranded baby that I made Friday scoop up out of my house- there were 11 babies total and 2 adults. He gathered them all up, then (very matter-of-factly) simply tossed every one out into the grass next to my dishrack. I could still hear the squeaking babies.

"The rats eat the cloth. They eat the clothing," Friday told me. Then he simply walked away. So did the kids. Everyone just left after the killing spree was over. It was bizarre.

All in a Hard Day's Work

So a lot of people have been asking about how my work projects have been going lately... Well, I recently completed a 4-day workshop at a nearby school where I was able to train 16 local teachers and community leaders on how to promote HIV-awareness in their community. It was a huge success! It's 1 of my Peace Corps accomplishments that I am really proud of.

I've also been meeting with a local farmer and his wife to teach about growing and cooking with soya beans. They, in turn, are planning to teach about soya beans to their local development group... The library project I've been collaborating on is moving forward steadily, although there have been quite a few unexpected turns. I have joined projects with another volunteer in the area, and the library is now part of a Community Recreation Center, which will be focused on activities and HIV-awareness programs for local youth. I am very optimistic about this change in plans and I'm looking forward to seeing some real progress very soon.

Well, thanks for following along with this very belated journal entry... There will probably be an even longer period of time between this 1 and the next because I am planning to go on a much-anticipated trip to Mozambique in December/January. So, I am wishing all of you a wonderful Christmas holiday and Happy New Year. Stay well!

Shalenipo,

Erin

August 15, 2007

Hello everybody! It's been so long since I've written, but it's not from lack of trying. I've sat down several times over the past few months to put into words all that's happened to me recently, but there's been 1 event that affected me so deeply that I simply haven't been in a state to want to recall and write about it... Let's just say that the month of June has had the most emotional scope of any month of my Peace Corps service. It began with the highest high- the arrival of my family for a 10-day visit- to 1 of my absolute lowest lows- the death of a baby girl. The month of July was a little more calm, and now August is proving to be positively boring.

I am currently feeling pretty healthy, but I can now check Giardia and Osteochondritus of the chest from my list of African ailments. I can also say that I now only have 1 degree of separation beween myself and 3 famous political figures... A Peace Corps volunteer I know recently shook Laura Bush's hand during her visit to Lusaka. Another volunteer bumped into Bill Clinton at a restaurant during his recent visit to Lusaka. And, a local farmer that I work with had a meeting with Zambia's first lady, Maureen Mwawawasa last week. So obviously, I have my foot in the door with some very influential people.

The cold season is over, and it is hot, hot, dry, and hot! I'd be lying if I said that a frozen margarita hasn't appeared in my dreams every night this week! Well, I'll stop complaining about the weather and get on with the stories/experiences I want to share with you. Please note that although some of these stories are light-hearted, there will be a section where I touch on the death of a child in my village. She's the reason I haven't managed to write in so long, and my heart still breaks for her family...

The Wolf Family African Vacation

During the last week of May and 1st week of June my entire family came for the vacation of a lifetime. I hadn't seen them in almost a year & a half, and it was everything I'd hoped it would be! I was actually shocked at myself for not crying when I saw everyone in the airport terminal for the 1st time... I didn't tell them that I'd been crying as I paced back and forth at the terminal waiting for them to arrive. The anticipation was so much- I was sweating and crying and worrying- I must have looked like a complete wreck when they first laid eyes on me!

Everything about the next 10 days was wonderful. We stayed at some extremely nice lodges with good food, drinks, scenery, artwork, etc. Victoria Falls was amazing- There's no doubt about it being 1 of the greatest natural wonders of the world. There's really no describing its magnificence. I was glad my family was as awed by it as I was. Simply spectacular. We did the Vic Falls gorge swing... Originally, the plan was to bungee jump, but it was closed on the day we were there. The gorge swing was described to us as much more "thrilling" than the simple bungee, so we gave it a try- over a 50 meter drop before swinging across the entire canyon. Yeah, even Mom & Dad took the plunge. It was awesome!

After Livingstone, we crossed the border into Botswana to visit Chobe Park- 1 of the most famous national parks in Southern Africa. Located on the river separating the 2 countries, from our lodge we could watch the sunrise in Botswana and the sunset in Namibia. At Chobe, we saw elephants, hippos, giraffes, wart hogs (so cute!), crocodiles, monkeys, mongoose, black mamba snakes, impala, kudu, puku, storks, a lioness and her cubs, water buffalo, and probably a dozen more species of animals that I'm forgetting to mention. The only animal I was disappointed about not seeing was zebras. I've seen them before, but I really wanted my family to see them too.

After Chobe, we hired a vehicle and travelled all the way up to Kasama (virtually crossing the entire nation in the process). I took them to the rock paintings and our local waterfalls, Chishimba Falls (which I've described in a previous journal entry). The rock paintings aren't what most people typically imagine when they think of ancient rock/cave paintings. They weren't depictions of men hunting animals and stuff like that. There were a few animals, but most everything else was really abstract... 1 rock was covered with dots made by people dipping their thumbs in animal blood mixed with other unknown herbs/chemicals and placing their thumbprints on the wall. This was a form of recording the tribe's population at the time.

Another rock had a very simple sketch of a penis and a vagina. These drawings were used to teach about sex/reproduction during initiation ceremonies... The low point of my trip actually took place at the rock paintings. Underneath and even across the very middle of a few paintings were big Bible verses painted onto the rocks by Pentecostal missionaries who used to hold prayer sessions and Bible studies at the rock painting site. I was deeply saddened, disapointed, and angered by such a disrespectful act to these rocks, which provide this unique glimpse into our distant past.

The following day began with a brief visit with my best Zambia friend Rhodah- She prepared a breakfast of roasted groundnuts and sweet potatoes for everyone... I have never seen her so excited as she was when she met my family! From there, we continued on to my village- Safwa. We were, as expected, bombarded by children. From the time we arrived around 10:30 until we all went to bed, I don't think we had a single moment alone as a family. I first took everyone over to the headman's house, where we sat in his nsaka and went through the Bemba tradition of exchanging greetings and thanking the headman for allowing my family to visit. At the appropriate time we handed over out mandatory bag of "gifts" to the headman. Included in the bag was an Old Navy flag t-shirt (XL... What was Mom thinking? This is sub-Saharan Africa where people are starving. My headman can't weigh more than 120 pounds) and a Dodge baseball cap with a USA flag on the side of it. Although he didn't open the gifts in front of us (That's just not customary Bemba style), I have seen him in the meantime wearing the oversized t-shirt and the baseball cap. In fact, I haven't seen him without the cap on since my family came, so I think he's quite proud of it.

Next, we walked over to my neighbor's house and watched a goat and a chicken get slaughtered in preparation for our evening meal. After a quick trip down to the river to show off the pontoon that ferries vehicles across, we returned to my house fo the main festivities of the day. My entire community came to my house for an afternoon of singing and dancing. My neighbor Ba Patrick had slashed all of the grass between our houses and put out a reed mat and wooden bench for all of us to sit on. Traditional dances were performed by some of the youngest pupils from the local school, then a few adults, and then I got up and danced. The whole village erupted in laughter and cheering when I started dancing... I must have looked so ridiculous, but I didn't care. One of our local church choirs performed a few songs for us in Bemba. I got up and sang with them, but they caught me off-guard by adding new verses that I'd never heard before.

All in all, spending time with my family was just as wonderful as I'd hoped it would be. I've barely touched upon all of the things we experienced... It's difficult to capture such a whirlwind 10 days in a single letter. Just before saying goodbye to everyone came my high point of their visit- My newly-engaged sister Amber asked me to be the maid of honor in her wedding next summer! It looks like bumming around Africa indefinitely is no longer an option... See you next summer!

The Death of a Beauty

On the evening of June 24, my next door neighbor Ba Patrick came by my house to inform me that a little girl in our village had just died. Her name was Sylvia and she was a grade 1 pupil at Safwa Community School. She was 6 years old. I asked him what happened. "We don't know, she just died. Stopped breathing." I asked him when this all happened... "Just now. I have just now returned from her house where she is dead." "Are you sure she is dead? Should we try getting her to a clinic?" "She is dead," he said again. "And you don't know what happened to her? Was she sick? Could she have choked on something and that's why she stopped breathing?" ...I had so many questions and Patrick was being so vague! I finally got out of him that the girl had come down sick the day before- "She was breathing very difficult. You could walk by the house and hear it like this..." He made an imitation of the breathing that sounded like a cross between snoring and gasping. I've never heard of malaria causing such difficulty breathing, but that's the obvious ailment that entered my mind. "Yes, maybe it was cerebral malaria," Patrick agreed. (I was later told that it was probably meningitis.)

Sylvia, Sylvia... I tried to put a face to that name. I knew she was 1 of the kids that plays around my house sometimes, but I couldn't picture her. Patrick explained to me that she belonged to the family that lives just across the main path, as you're walking to the school. I knew the house he was referring to but still couldn't place the little girl.

Here's an excerpt from my journal on June 24: "...I can hear the wailing outside. I'm bundled up in my bed writing in my journal while less than 100 meters away from me dozens of women are crying and lamenting over the death of a 6-year-old.

I wish there was something I could do, but I'm completely out of my element at times like this. Patrick asked if I could spare a candle for the mourning family (so that the wailing can continue through the night)... I gladly gave him a candle. Now all I can do is lay here and listen. Sometimes the wailing is so faint that I assume it must have stopped. But then I'll hear an old woman give a long wail and more women will chime in. It sounds like it comes and goes in waves.

Tomorrow should be the funeral. I don't know if it'll be in the morning or afternoon, but I'm heading to town so I probably won't attend. Sylvia- I wish I could picture her face in my mind. Then again, maybe it's better that I can't."

A couple days later I was just arriving home after a day spent in another village, when Ba Patrick came by and informed me that another child had passed away. Her name was Beauty, and she was only 2 or 3 years old. Apparently she'd been sick for the past few days, and the family took her to the clinic (about 12K away), where she was diagnosed with cerebral malaria. They sent the family to another, newer clinic located about 40K away. So, they took the little girl there and she received 2 "injections". She died that afternoon.

Beauty was actually one of my very close neighbors. Her older brother Mwila (age 6 or 7) is 1 of the boys that is always playing at my house. He is a really sweet kid- 1 of my favorites- and he's always watching over his younger brother Oswald, who is about 2, and is a spitting image of Mwila. I could hear the women wailing: "Ooh! Maayo! Umwaana wandi! Oohh!" (Mother! My child!) It was so sad... The most desperate and mournful and heartbreaking sound. Mwila soon came by and asked me if I was going to come to their house to take part in the wailing. "Beauty afwa (died)," he said to me so matter-of-factly that I was caught off guard by what he was actually asking of me. I really love that little boy, and even though he was behaving so calm and unaffected, I could see in his watery eyes that he understood death... I wanted to hug him and give him the childhood that I had.

An excerpt from my journal on that day: "... Wow, 2 funerals- 2 child funerals- in less than a week. It's exhausting trying to sort through all of the emotions and thoughts and questions that surface when a young child dies... especially from preventable diseases. Neither of these deaths should have happened! It makes me so angry when I look at it that way. Then my heart breaks for the mothers... Then I feel guilty that my life has been such a picnic and these kids never got a chance to really live... Then I feel sorry for all of the other kids, who have gotten used to having their siblings and friends die. They almost seem unaffected by it. Granted, they are just kids, but I get the impression that they've become completely desensitized to death around them. It's all so tragic... but so common, which makes it less tragic and all the more tragic at the same time."

The Funeral

The following is a direct excerpt from my journal on June 29: "I woke up several times throughout the night to the sound of drumming and singing... It is now 7:15 and there are still 2 or 3 women wailing over at Mwila's house. They must be exhausted! I just spoke to Ba Friday (my neighbor), and he said that they are now constructing a coffin, and sometime around 10 or 11:00 will be the burial...

...So I sat in my nsaka and watched a group of men gather at Ba Matthew's house (another neighbor) to chop and saw and nail away at the coffin. It took them about 2 hours. At 9:30 Ba Patrick came over to take me to the funeral. It was at the grandparents' house, which is directly across from mine, going down toward the river. I had been watching the crowd slowly grow- the women in front of the house, inside the nsaka, and surrounding the nsaka, the men sitting in the shade under the trees to the side of the house. I walked over with Patrick. He joined the men, and I put my chitenge down and sat next to the women ouside of the nsaka. For the next hour I listened to the mother wailing and crying from inside the house. I think the grandmother and maybe a few aunts were also inside, crying alongside her. Most of the women seated around me would sniffle, and I'd turn my head to see their red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. After a short while, 4 women came out of the house (it was the headman's wife, Patrick's wife, and 2 others). They began dancing in a small circle and singing church songs.

Next, the coffin was brought out of the house, containing little Beauty. It was covered with a chitenge. I imagine that it was the chitenge that the mother would carry her in (strapped to her back), but I don't know for sure. As the men carried the coffin and placed it on the ground atop a reed mat, the mother and grandmother followed them- crawling on their hands and knees, weeping hysterically.

Several men took turns standing up and praying or reading from the Bible. Then, the small coffin was hoisted onto the back of an old bicycle and strapped on with a piece of black rubber. I got up and followed as the coffin was moved out to the graveyard. There must have been something like 150-200 people proceeding in a single-file line down a small path that led deep, deep into the bush. There was sobbing, moaning, and sniffling all along the way. The path zig-zagged through tall grass, and I felt like we were in the middle of the wild. If for some reason I was left out there alone, there's no way I would have found my way back. As we were walking, Ba Friday told me that we were going to the graveyard for "young ones". "There's another one for adults?" I asked. "Yes," he said as he pointed toward our left in the direction of the adult cemetery.

When we arrived at the burial spot, everyone took a seat somewhere in the grass, making a sort of semi-circle around the grave. "Do you want to see what is happening?" Friday asked me. Unsure of exactly what that meant, I said yes. We seated ourselves in the grass, just in front of where a man was deep in a pit, shoveling out dirt. A couple more men joined in, taking turns with a shovel and hoe, digging the grave to the appropriate depth. When it was finished, they removed the chitenge and lowered the small coffin into the grave. They added about 1 foot of dirt on top of it and a man stomped around, packing that dirt down. The man hoisted himself out of the pit. Then the grandfather approached the grave. His chin was quivering and his eyes were filled with tears. When he got to the foot of the grave he fell to his knees and wept openly. His face was in his hands, and a few men came over to lift him up to his feet. I glanced over at Ba Friday. His eyes were full of tears, and I thought I saw one slip down his cheek. It's uncharacteristic of men to cry in public here, so I knew this was a rare and special moment.

The grandfather collected himself and said a few words to the crowd. I couldn't interpret the majority of it, but I think he was recounting what happened during the past few days leading up to her death. When he finished, the pastor got up and said a few words, then Patrick got up and talked as well. I looked at Patrick's wife while he was speaking... She just sat there crying- Her eyes focused on the ground instead of on her husband. Next, the men began shovelling the rest of the dirt on top of the coffin, filling the grave and making a mound of dirt that extended about 2 feet above the grave.

Immediately to the left of Beauty's new mound was the mound of dirt making Sylvia's grave... These 2 little girls, buried so close together in space and time.

The 1st to leave the gravesite and lead the procession back to the village was Beauty's mother, clearly distraught. Throughout the funeral she sobbed and moaned, "Maayo! Umwaana wandi! Bupe wandi!" (Oh mother! My child! My gift!) Hearing her cry "Umwaana wandi! Bupe wandi!" was almost too much for me to witness. My heart and my tears were in my throat, and hearing and watching her grieve like that was too much sadness to bear! I began to feel nauseus and I seriously thought I might throw up- I've never, never reacted that way at a funeral. I don't think I've ever witnessed such intensity of emotion before. I literally became heartsick for this family.

I didn't mention this earlier, but when the bike with the coffin on its rack began to roll away from the house, the mother and grandmother both made 1 last desperate lunge to touch the coffin just 1 more time. They were already on their hands and knees in the dirt, so when they lunged after the bike they essentially extended their arms and plummeted their bodies face-first into the dirt as well... They moaned and sobbed, flailing about and rolling around. I can best describe it as utterly desperate and heartfelt- These 2 generations of mothers in their last-ditch effort to hold on to their little girl.

After the funeral I returned to my house and sat on my porch. I was shaken up and deeply affected. But honestly, I cannot say all of the ways this has touched me... There were times when I cried for Beauty or her family, then I would cry out of a sense of guilt, then I would look at the mothers around me and cry for them and their fragile, vulnerable children, then I cried for Africa and it's diseased, sickly people, then I cried about the preventability of these diseases- these kids shouldn't be dying like this... maybe 100 years ago, but not today! It's all so frustrating. So sad.

The entire thing was over by 11:30, and by noon everything seemed back to normal... Boys were kicking around the football, women were pounding flour, girls were walking along the paths with pots/pans on their heads. Life returned to normal so quickly that it was positively eerie... As I am writing this, Mwila and one of his other siblings are both in my nsaka, hanging out with a couple other kids- You'd never have guessed that we buried their baby sister this morning."

Happy Coconut

To end this journal entry on a lighter note, I want to tell you a short story about a friend that I made on my trip to Malawi in July. In Malawi, we met some of the funnest and friendliest locals... And they had the greatest names! Here's just a few: There were 3 brothers named Special, Gift, & Eddie, then there was Ujen, Chicken Pizza, Fortunado, Wisdom, Winston, Bently, Smart, Snow, Dark City, and my very favorite- Happy Coconut.

I just had to know the story behind that name. He proudly told it to me... It goes like this: When his mother was over 8 months pregnant, she happened to be sitting beneath a coconut tree when a coconut fell from the tree and landed directly on her belly! She immediately went into labor and was rushed to the nearest clinic. After giving birth to a healthy baby boy, some people jokingly asked her, "So how's the coconut?" Her response: "I have a very happy coconut. Thank you." I love that story.

Well, I hope you all had a wonderful summertime in the States. I look forward to making up for plenty of lost time at the lake when I get back next summer. Take care and remember Africa in your prayers.

Shalenipo.

Erin

May 25, 2007

Muli shani bonsi? Well, May was quite a month. The cold season is officially here... As soon as the sun goes down it gets a little chilly- Just enough to get all warm and snuggly under the covers at night. I love it! I recently spent 5 straight weeks in my village without travelling to town. That's a good chunk of time to go without American conversation or new groceries! Somewhere around week #4, I punctured 1 of my tire tubes beyond repair. This meant walking to all of my meetings, which I really didn't mind all that much- except for the day that included a 15-mile roundtrip to another village. I don't want to do that again anytime soon!

Well, tomorrow is a day I have been counting down to for almost all of 2007... My family will arrive in Lusaka for a 10-day visit with me! I can't wait to tell you guys about our vacation together... Most of all, I can't even start to imagine what it will be like to see my family after being a world apart for 16 months!

Here's a few stories from my recent life here... Soya beans, snails, rats. If you'd told me 1 1/2 years ago that I'd be writing about this stuff, I'd have never believed you. Enjoy!

Cooking With Soya beans (Part 1)

I think I've mentioned before that 1 of the secondary projects that I've picked up is teaching communities about the health benefits of soya and trying to help them implement soya into their everyday diets. Now that the rains have stopped and the beans have all been harvested, I've started leading cooking demonstrations.

At my 1st cooking demo I was a little nervous because I myself had never actually cooked with soya beans- I'd only read about it. I pictured it being a total disaster, but it actually turned out to be a wonderful session... There were about a dozen women present, and my goal for the day was to teach them how to make soya flour, then incorporate that flour into the porridge they feed to their kids.

I took out a small jar of soya beans that I had cooked and dried in advance for this meeting. While 1 woman poceeded to pound those beans with her mortar and pestle, all of the other women were ooh-ing and aah-ing over the empty mayo jar that I had kept the beans in. They passed it around, twisting and untwisting the plastic blue lid. I tried to seize the opportunity by showing how the jar can keep the flour air-tight and that's important for storing the soya flour over time, but they were simply interested in holding the jar and wishing they had 1 like it.

Once the flour was ready, we made porridge- mixing 2 big handfuls of maize flour, about 6 spoonfuls of soya flour, a little salt, a lot of sugar (Zambians love putting a ridiculous amount of sugar in everything... That's when they have sugar, of course), and then adding water to make a paste. We then added the paste to boiling water and after about 20 minutes, there was porridge. It was divided up between 12 bowls and pots, and the women began feeding it to their babies. Most of them would alternate spoonfuls between the mouths of their babies and their own mouths. Also, there weren't enough spoons to go around, so several of the women had to use big leaves to dip into the bowl and scoop porridge into their babies' mouths. The mothers were very impressed with the porridge and told me they were excited to learn more recipes.

When the bowls were scraped clean and the session was all wrapped up, Ba Chishala- my Zambian counterpart hosting the meeting- donated 2 bowls of soya beans to each woman there.... since the women didn't have anything to carry the beans in, he went inside his house and brought out his "AIDs Challenge" board game (which every school seems to have and NOBODY ever plays. They're donated from an international NGO.) Anyway, he poured out the contents of the box and then began ripping the box up into multiple pieces that were then rolled into cones and used to hold beans. Each woman left with a nifty little bright yellow cardboard cone full of soya (...at least that game was finally used for something!)

Cooking with Soya Beans (Part 2)

I returned to that community the following week to experiment with making soya pancakes. I arrived at 10:00, but we didn't get started until 12:30. No one had brought any saladi (cooking oil), an egg, or a frying pan, so it naturally took 2 1/2 hours to get all of that organized and worked out.

I was already in a bit of a cranky mood because my bike was out of commission (busted tube) and I had walked for 3 hours to get there. (I walked approximately 25K -15 miles- that day. I was so achey and sore...) Anyway, once we finally had all of the ingredients together we got started on the pancakes. We boiled and mashed some beans, added an egg, some sugar, salt, and a little cassava flour. We shaped the dough into little circular shapes and fried them until golden brown on both sides. They looked like little chicken nuggets... They tasted incredible! I could have eaten the whole batch of them! The women were sold on the goodness of soya pancakes. Everyone was given 1 cake to try and leftover cakes were broken into pieces and passed out among the children who were there. Several kids started crying because they wanted more... I thought this was perfect at 1st. I wanted to say: "See? Soya's good for kids and they love it!" (Just like a soya commercial or something). But, after awhile the kids continued to cry and none of the mothers did anything about it. I got cranky again and called them all brats in my head.

Before beginning my 3 hour walk home, Ba Chishala insisted that I eat some sweet potatoes. I went into the house, where his little grandson Joseph was sitting on the floor wailing- Tears pouring down his face. I asked Ba Chishala what he was so upset about. "He wants more soya pancakes," he said... Our next meeting is scheduled for June and we'll be making soya biscuits and soya snacks.

Just a Day in the Peace Corps

The following is part of my journal entry for May 5...

Yesterday I was in Menga village for my 1st meeting there since January- The rains flooded the Lukulu River and they deemed it too dangerous for me to travel across... It's still a challenge to get to. There are about 200 meters that become shallow riverbed in the wet season and are open grassland in the dry season. Usually I can cross it easily on my bike, right up to the spot where I get in the canoe. However, that 200 meter area is now in this in-between stage and is more of a swamp than anything else. I tried to manuever my way around the water, but about halfway across I found myself completely surrounded by swamp, with no option but to just walk through it. For about 20-30 meters I was just shy of knee-deep in the muddy water. I considered lifting my bike above my head and carrying it, but decided I didn't care enough to do that. Then I thought, "If I don't have Schistosomiasis already, I surely have it now." That's about the same time that I started noticing all of the snails in the grassy water around me. Stagnant, slow moving water + snails = Schisto. Great, lucky me. I guess the good news is that if I do indeed have Schisto now, then I'll only have it in my body for 1 year and not 2 full years of Peace Corps service.

(Note: Here is what the Peace Corps Medical Handbook has to say about Schistosomiasis, also known as Bilharzia. The disease is caused by worms living in the human host over a span of many years. Infection is usually acquired while bathing or wading in fresh water. Schistosome eggs in human feces and urine enter fresh surface water, where they hatch and then penetrate snails. After several weeks, new larval forms emerge from the snail host into the water and penetrate human skin. They travel through the bloodstream to the lungs, migrate to the liver, develop to maturity, and then migrate to the veins in the abdominal cavity. Infections take years to develop and produce urinary or intestinal symptoms, depending on parasite species, due to the clogging of blood vessels by large numbers of schistosome eggs. Infected persons may spread the infections by discharging eggs in urine for approx. 5 years and in stool for up to 20 years.)

After braving the swamp, I crossed on the dugout canoe... I had to rearrange my bike because the boy trying to load it had no idea what he was doing and dipped my helmet and handlebars in the mud! Then I walked to Ba Chomba's house (my local counterpart) and together we walked over to the school to see if any of the community had gathered there for our meeting. It was already 11:00, and I had a feeling that nobody would be there... Nope. No one there. I doubt Ba Chomba even told people I was coming- Sometimes I think he tries to just keep me all to himself. As we were turning to go back to the house, we came across a group of about a dozen women who wanted to greet me. They were gathering to mould bricks that day for their church, which had recently fallen down from the rains. Somehow my age was brought up in the conversation. "So she was born in what year?" Ba Chomba asked then, "2007 take away 26 is... 19--?" After a nice long pause for them to calculate, someone said, "80...81?" "Yes. 1981." I said. "AH! Umunandi!!" 1 lady exclaimed, "1981! Na ine!" Apparently I am "her friend" because we're both born in '81. The rest of the women were equally impressed and happy for my 26 year old friend.

When we got back to Ba Chomba's house, we set up a small table and sat in the shade of a tree to discuss a schedule of future dates and program topics. I took off my wet shoes that I'd been sloshing around in, placed them in the sun to dry out, and put my socks on his clothes line. I explained how I had to walk through all of the mucky water on my way there, and 1 of the community members that had joined us said, "You should have walked around the water to avoid getting wet." Thanks, Mr. Obvious. "I tried, but there was too much water everywhere," I said. Everyone laughed at me. I laughed too, but I felt thoroughly stupid also.

When it was time for lunch, Ba Chomba went inside the house with me and sat at the table (which we'd moved inside from its place under the tree). We prayed, then I lifted the bown from atop the nshima and another bowl from a dish that contained 3 boiled eggs. "Eggs for you," he said. "You're not going to eat with me? Not even 1 egg?" I asked. "No, no. I had breakfast today." He responded. So, he sat and watched me eat the eggs/nshima. When I still had about 1 egg to go, he went outside and came back with about 1/3 of a small cooked pumpkin. (I guess breakfast hadn't quite tided him over...)

He ate the pumpkin by scraping and scooping it out of the shell with his fingers, then slopping his fingers in his mouth and sort of sucking them clean... It was so gross! There was pumpkin in his beard, under his fingernails, on the table... and he was so loud as he slurped and smacked on everything. I couldn't look at him. I could hardly sit there! So disgusting. I tried to distract myself by looking at the magazine pages strung about the top of the room... like clothes pinned to a line, each page was individually strung onto a piece of string that zig-zagged back and forth across the top of the room. It was like a big mobile that hangs over a baby's crib, only this 1 had about 50 "Reader's Digest" sized pages from what seemed to be a European catalog printed in the '70's, selling baby products (toys, bibs, playpens, diapers, etc.). All of the pictures were of little blonde hair, blue eyed babies in bell-bottomed outfits. It's all quite comical when you zoom out and look at the big picture: Here I am in the middle of Nowhere, Africa (which required walking through a swamp to get to), and I'm sitting in a mud hut listening to an old man chow down on a pumpkin- which is probably all he's had to eat all day- and dangling above my head are little photos of Swedish babies selling car seats!

...It wasn't long after lunch that I decided to get a move on. My socks were still pretty wet and so were my shoes when I put them back on. Ba Chomba escorted me up to the river, and after crossing, I walked with 2 other men for awhile (1 was the teacher who made the "avoid the water" comment from earlier). As we approached the swampy region, the teacher leading the way stopped to roll up his trousers and remove his shoes. We then walked right through the same area I had passed through earlier in the day. "I thought you said to go AROUND the water and avoid getting wet?" I asked him. He just sort of laughed... I called him a not-so-nice name under my breath for making me feel so stupid earlier. Then I started counting snails.

The Stupid Rat

For the past few weeks there's been a rat sneaking into my house at night and rummaging through and trying to eat just about anything he can get into. I started hanging my veggies in a basket that is suspended from my roof, but he would still find a way into them. He nibbled on almost all of the tomatoes I've bought in the last 3 weeks and I've had to throw them all out. I then started hanging my veggies in a mesh bag from a beam at the very center of my house (not near the wall, like my basket), but he somehow managed to get into the mesh bag and scavenge through my onions. I then moved all of my food/cooking products into plastic containers and buckets with lids. I would even sweep my house every night just before bed to make sure there weren't any sort of crumbs on the floor. Thinking I'd finally outsmarted the little guy, I didn't expect him to return... He did. The next night he ripped apart a bag of trash containing nothing but papers! Now I even keep my trash in a sealed plastic bucket.

Well, a few nights ago around 18:00 (not even dark outside yet), I heard something moving around in my kitchen area. "This guy's getting brave if he won't even wait around until dark anymore," I thought. I pulled my cat into the house and tried to force him to pay attention to the sound, but he just sat down and looked at me, confused. Useless cat. The rat was being really loud, which surprised me because I figured he'd at least sense the presence of the cat and run away. I moved some things around- My coffee cans, instant milk, canister of sugar- and as I was reaching for my bottle of cooking oil, it moved! I swear my heart must have stopped. It scared the hell out of me. I grabbed a flashlight and shined it around... Inside the bottle of cooking oil was the rat, struggling to climb his way out. Next to the bottle was the chewed up lid, so apparently the rat must have stuck the top 1/2 of his body inside the plastic bottle, trying to reach the oil (There was only about 1/2 cup at the very botton.) when he slid right in! Now he was totally trapped. I picked up the bottle and held it up in front of my face: "That's what you get you filthy, greasy rat." I said to him.

I stuck the lid back on top of the bottle and walked over to my neighbor's, Ba Patrick's, house. The sun was totally down by this point, and his whole familyl was sitting around the fire. I explained my ordeal with the rat, and the whole family gathered around as I handed the bottle over to Patrick. He took the lid off and tipped the bottle sideways just enough so he could try to touch it with his finger. I was very jumpy and I just knew he was going to accidentally let it get away... Moments later, his son Junior ran up to us with my cat in his arms. Patrick dumped the oily rat on the ground. The stupid cat just looked at it. The rodent started to make a run for it- and he got about 3 feet away- when Patrick stomped on him with his flip flop. The rat wasn't quite dead, and the cat started to growl and play with him a bit. He tried to make a 2nd get-away, but this time Patrick stepped on his head and gave him a good squishing and twisting into the dirt. DEAD RAT. We kicked him to the side and my cat started to eat him like this was a kill he should be proud of... stupid cat.

Here's the best part of the story: When the whole thing was over, Patrick's wife poured the remaining cooking oil back into the bottle (we had drained it into a cup before dumping the rat), and she handed me the bottle! Like I would use the cooking oil that the rat had been swimming in!! "No, no. I don't want that," I said in Bemba. Everyone kind of laughed, and a few moments later she returned with the rinsed out bottle for me... "No, no, no. I don't even want the empty bottle. You can have it! You keep it!" They all thought it was hilarious that I didn't wany my stuff back. Since this is the family that I eat with every night, I now have this fear in the back of my mind that they're going to serve me supper 1 day made with rat-soaked cooking oil, and I'll never know the difference... Ugh.

Thanks for keeping up with my website. I hope you are all feeling healthy and happy and loving life! Until next time...

Shalenipo.

Erin

April 29, 2007

Hi everyone! I hope you are all enjoying a beautiful Spring in America. We are at the tail-end of rainy season here, and I am looking forward to the upcoming months of cool mornings and constant sunshine. I suppose you could say that my spirit has been a little "water-logged" recently, so a pleasant change in the weather may be just what I need to put that all behind me... like a fresh change of clothes after getting caught in the rain.

If I had to sum up the month of April in a single word, I would say it's been straining. Not strenuous, like it involved a lot of hard work, but straining... like when you hurt a muscle and have to continue walking on it. I don't think there's any shame in admitting when times have been tough, and to be perfectly honest, the past few months have been quite a challenge. But, the good news is that I feel I've forged through the stickiest parts and there are so many wonderful things to be looking forward to... My family is visiting in May, several of my projects are doing well, I have a great tan, etc.

Anyway, I have a few experiences from recent weeks that I'd like to share with you- my favorite being Easter at Lake Tanganyika, what a time! Here we go...

Lake Tanganyika & Kalambo Falls

This year's plans for Easter were originally to spend it in my village, just relaxing. The thought of travelling with a big group on a complicated trip somehow wasn't appealling to me... and that's what a lot of volunteers seemingly had in mind for their Peace Corps Easter vacation days.

I had gone to town to take care of a few work-related things and was preparing to head back home, when I connected with a group of about a dozen volunteers on their way up to Lake Tanganyika for the 4-day weekend... I was easily persuaded to join them (which surprised even myself!) I think it's because I've been wanting to visit that area of Zambia ever since I arrived here and didn't want to pass up an opportunity to go there with friends.

A brief geography lesson for you... Lake Tanganyika is located at the Northernmost point of Zambia. Following its shoreline, you would touch Zambia, Tanzania, Burundi, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. It's a gorgeous area and has much more of a tropical Central Africa feel than the rest of the country. The lake is only about a 5-hour bus ride from where I live (I had no idea it was that close), and after arriving in the port town of Mpulungu, we took a ferry to the lodge that had been reserved for us.

Once we arrived at our beach (That's right- we were the only people staying at this remote and rather secluded lodge), we enjoyed 3 full days of beautiful scenery and relaxing in the sun. The lake is so large that it felt like we were at the ocean, except that it is fresh water and we could see mountains nearby. We laid out, swam, played sand volleyball, and had bonfires on the beach at night. A few people even went scuba diving. The most memorable and exhilerating part of this trip was our Easter Sunday hike to the top of Kalambo Falls.

The waterfalls are not easily accessible and we had to hire a local guide to lead us to the top. Here's what my Zambia travel guide book has to say about Kalambo Falls, just to provide you with a clearer picture... "Kalambo Falls has a vertical drop of 221 meters. This is the 2nd highest waterfall in Africa, about double the height of the Victoria Falls, and about the 12th highest in the world. On either side of the falls there are sheer rock walls... The falls themselves will be at their most spectacular towards the end of the wet season (Note: which is exactly when we were there)... Kalambo Falls are also one of the most important archaeological sites in Southern Africa. Just above the falls, by the side of the river, is a site that appears to have been occupied throughout much of the Stone Age and early Iron Age. The earliest tools and other remains discovered there may be over 300,000 years old, including evidence for the use of fire... For years Kalambo provided the earliest evidence of fire in Sub-Saharan Africa."

Here's an excerpt from my journal describing the experience: "On Easter Sunday we were led on a hiking trip to see Kalambo Falls... It was a hot & humid morning when we embarked on the 2 1/2 hour mountain trek. The whole expedition was vertical- it was like 2 1/2 hours of stair steppers!!! Several of us didn't think we'd survive the hike. I definitely wasn't in proper shape for it. However, upon reaching the falls and seeing how indescribably magnificent they are, the hellish hike became worth every bead of sweat. It was like having a baby and instantly forgetting the pain of labor. Those falls were the perfect testament to the many natural wonders of this world- & so many of them are tucked away where human eyes never get to see them. I felt small and insignificant... I was in the presence of a timeless and terrifying and wonderfully crafted work of God. The perfect place to be on Easter Sunday.

After marvelling over the waterfalls for an hour or 2, we started back down the mountain... The descent turned out to be far more difficult than I ever thought it could be. For the next 2 days my body was so sore and achey that I could barely move- but, it was 100% worth it, and I would hike it all over again in a heartbeat to experience Kalambo Falls once more."

The Easter get-away at Lake Tanganyika turned out to be exactly what I needed to remind myself of how amazing it can be to live here. It was also a nice opportunity to simply relax and let myself be rejuvinated. I wish I could better describe just how important and thrilling and completely captivating the waterfalls were. You really must see it.

Anyone Need a Wedding Planner?

There is to be a traditional Bemba wedding in my village next month and preparations begin early. On April 21 I observed some of the activities leading up to the actual wedding, the making of the beer and the "pep talk" for the bride.

When I arrived there were about 10 women singing and spreading millet on the ground in a large circle. The bride-to-be (maybe 16 or 17 yrs old) had a basket full of millet, and she and another woman would together shake millet out of the basket and into the big pile. The other women sang and drummed on jerry cans. Next, everyone knelt around the millet and pounded it with either axe handles, hoe handles, or just big sticks. They'd lift the sticks over their heads and with both hands, slam them on the ground. (I thought it looked like they were trying to beat a bunch of ants to death.) And of course, they were singing.

Once they were finished pounding the millet, everyone dispersed. A few women remained, separating the seeds and loading the millet into baskets. Most everyone else gathered in the shade of a tree or the nearby nsaka and chatted. I sat down with my friend Ba Patrick (the only man around... This was an exclusive women's tradition), and he explained that this was the Bemba way of preparing village beer for a wedding. They would soon take the millet down to the river and let it soak for a few days.

I was soon called into the house to see the next part of the pre-wedding activities. I sat down in a wooden chair while the bride and 2 of her aunts knelt on the floor. 1 woman spread 5 or 6 seeds out on the floor. They were all different, and I assume they represent all of the major crops they plant in this area. While 1 lady sang, the other 1 who spread the seeds on the ground put her hands behind her back and picked up each of the seeds 1 by 1 in rhythm to the music with her mouth. After she was finished, she joined in singing the song and spread the seeds out once more in front of the girl. This time the girl mimicked her aunt by picking up each of the seeds with her mouth.

Next, the rest of the women piled into the small room where we were gathered, and we continued with the millet beer preparation. These involved a certain way of separating whatever leaves, stems, or seeds remained in the millet; the gathering of water and bringing it into the house; and the ritual of adding the millet to the water. And of course, this was all completed with singing and drumming. For the sake of brevity, I won't go into detail on all of these activities, but at 1 point everyone was kneeling on the ground and dancing to the music by circling their hips. There was a lot of energy in the air, and everyone was really getting excited. That's when 1 woman grabbed me and insisted that I join in! I didn't even hesitate. I grabbed a chitenge, wrapped it around my waist, got on my knees, and started circling my hips in rhythm to the music. All of the women erupted in laughter! They were so excited to see me participate, and I'm sure they found my white girl hip circles simply hilarious... I would have been laughing at me too!

Soon all of the women (& the millet) went back outside. Again, it was only myself, the bride, and the 2 aunts in the house. 1 woman stood up and removed from the shelf on the wall (which was actually a single board, holding all of the family's pots and bowls) a large leaf that was wrapped up into a bundle and tied with a piece of string made from tree bark. She sat back down on the floor and handed the little package to the other woman.

The women then began explaining the significance of the leaf and its contents. She untied the string and removed the outer leaf (there were actually 2 leaves and the other 1 continued to hold something inside of it). The woman explaining everything was speaking in such fast Bemba that I had an incredibly difficult time trying to follow it. She took the outer leaf and explained that the leaf was used during a woman's period... She took the leaf, held it in front of her crotch (like a maxi-pad) and said "period" to make sure that I was understanding.

Next, they moved on to the other leaf... It was unfolded to reveal 2 small fish! I wasn't expecting that at all. For the next few minutes they explained the meaning of the fish inside the leaf... Several times they would wrap the leaf around the fish, then open it back up as they were talking. It was clear to me that the fish were supposed to represent some sort of gift or surprise, but I had no idea what was being said, so I still felt rather clueless.

When they were finished sharing their wisdom with the girl (& me too, I suppose), I went back ouside and found Ba Patrick. I asked him if it was okay for me to discuss with him what went on inside the house. He said it was fine to talk about it, so I asked him what the significance of the leaf with the fish was... "When 2 people are married, the woman will giver her husband a special gift that only he sees. Do you know? It is in the bed... So the fish represent the gift," He clarified. Ahh... and the leaf stood for the woman's reproductive system of sexuality. Now it made sense.

The wedding is supposed to take place in May, and I've already been invited. Stay tuned...

One Crazy Afternoon

As I was biking home from a meeting one day (which was cancelled because literally nobody showed up), I decided to stop by a counterpart's home for a brief chat. He wasn't there, but most of his family was, so I hung out with them for a few hours. We were having a very nice time- talking about American culture, my work, etc.- when a young boy (1 of their children) brought over a mole that he had found and wounded with a spear. He laid it on the ground at our feet... I guess I've never actually seen a mole before- That's got to be the funniest, creepiest little creature known to mankind! Big buck teeth and no eyes... He just sort of pawed around in the sand and kept opening up his mouth big and wide- creepy. Their plans were to eat it as a family for supper.

After I left their house and was continuing my bike ride home, this girl about my age kept yelling: "Ba Ellen! Come, come! Come here, please!" I figured it wouldn't hurt to stop and at least greet her. I biked up to her House, where she was sitting in the nsaka. She immediately came out, hopping over to me- her feet were shackled with a chain and lock! "What the hell's going on?" I thought. Her father instantly came rushing out of the house and held her by the shoulders. In Bemba, he began to explain that she was "mentally unstable" (which he actually said several times in English). Then I looked at her in the face for the 1st time and could see that she was rather crazy. "Give me a hug! Don't go!" She began to aggressively shout at me. I told the father that I understood and wished him a good day. I turned to leave, wondering what would have happened if he hadn't restrained her. And... how does she know English??

Lost in Translation... yet again

A short story that might make you laugh... I was at a villager's house having a conversation that was about 1/2 Bemba and 1/2 English. Mary's English is about as good as my Bemba, so together we can understand each other pretty well (although I'm sure we'd sound ridiculous to outsiders). Anyway, somewhere along the way we got to talking about growing or cooking with millet. Mary brought out a plactic basin full of millet ready to be ground into flour.

"Amaule," I said as I scooped my hands through the grain and let it fall between my fingers. "What?!" she said. She sounded rather surprised, which caught me off guard. "Amaule. Right? It's millet." I was just trying to say millet in Bemba. Everyone's been harvesting it all month and this whole time I thought I had it right... "It's amale," she corrected me, "Amaule means prostitute." Of course it does. Leave it to me to make a couple weeks' worth of comments like: "Can I go with you to collect prostitutes?" "You have a lot of prostitutes!" "I want to eat nshima with prostitutes." Such is my life.

Thanks for your support and encouragement. Please keep Zambia and all of Africa and all of the world in your prayers!

Shalenipo,

Erin

Dear Friend,

Hello!  I hope this letter finds you healthy & happy.

As you may know, I am currently a Peace Corps volunteer in rural Zambia, and I will be serving over here in Africa until the spring of 2008 as a Rural Education Development volunteer.  While there are a variety of projects that I am involved with, I have begun working on what may prove to be one of my most challenging.

I am currently collaborating with another Peace Corps volunteer to undertake the daunting task of creating a public library in rural Zambia… what a challenge this is going to be!  We are literally starting from nothing, but we are determined to make this a success  -quite possibly, this may be one of our most memorable projects… something that will last long after we return to America next year.  However, this is something that our rural communities cannot do entirely on their own… and that is why I am extending to you the opportunity to get involved in making such an important difference in the lives of thousands of villagers living in my area.

Please visit the website that I have constructed & see for yourself what an impact this library will have on the lives of rural Zambians, how we intend to approach such a huge task, and how you can get involved to help change the lives of people across the world… 

www.freewebs.com/chilufyalibrary

Thank you for your time, and I hope we can work together to make this project a success!

Sincerely,

Erin Wolf

Peace Corps Volunteer

Rural Education Development

Zambia, 2006-2008

March 31, 2007

Shani Bonse?! Life here has been trucking along as usual... Well, I guess it depends on what you consider usual. There have actually been quite a few big changes this past month, so "usual" is 1 of the last words I should use to describe it! To begin with, I now have my official work permit, authorizing me to be legally living and working in Zambia (... it only took 14 months to get. Now that's a testament to government efficiency!)

Just as I finally obtained my papers to stay here, a few Peace Corps Volunteers whom I've had the pleasure of getting to know this past year packed their bags and headed home to the states. Having completed their 2 years of service, I could see the mixture of emotions they were feeling- excitement about seeing their families, reluctance to let go of their lives in the village, happiness to spend a little time traveling, sadness to say goodbye to the friends they'd made. It was especially difficult for me to see Ari go... 1 of my dearest friends and closest neighbors. Ari, you will be missed!

Like I alluded to earlier, this month has been full of challenges... events that have tried me physically, psychologically, and emotionally. Of course, there've been those easy days when time passes effortlessly, but there've also been a few days that I won't soon forget. A few of the stories that I want to share with you might make you laugh or think... or they may not affect you at all. Regardless, they reflect my experience here, and I'm glad to share them with you.

150K to Mpika

Ever since I arrived in the Northern Province of Zambia, my friend Ari and I have talked about how awesome it would be to cycle all the way from Kasama (the provincial capital) to Mpika (the next largest town, heading south). There is only 1 paved road connecting these 2 towns, and as things turned out, I settled in a small village just 7 kilometers off of this road... My village also happens to be almost exactly 1/3 of the way between Kasama and Mpika.

Somewhere along the way, Ari & I decided that if we wanted to tackle this bike ride within the span of a single day, we would need to be realistic and leave from my village... A mere 150 kilometers from Mpika... in American terms, that's roughly 95 miles!

So, on the 27th of February at 5:45 in the morning, we set out on our long-anticipated trek. Before even arriving at the paved road, the skies opened up and the rain began to fall... a rain that would continue non-stop for the entire day. Yes, it poured the entire ride! There was 1 point during the day when I was literally shaking from the rain and the cold. I just knew we were going to arrive at the "finish line" with 2 lovely cases of pneumonia. In fact, around the 1/2-way point in our trip, we had to stop at some random villager's house along the road and ask to sit by their fire to warm up.

We took water breaks about every 15-20 kilometers (or about every 1 hour of riding). We would duck out of the rain, try to let our clothes dry out a bit, complain about our body aches, then get back on our bikes. Now let me be honest here... I was the one complaining. In fact, somewhere between when my butt 1st started hurting and when the random villager offered us her fire is when I started threatening to abandon my bike and hitchhike. I was that kind of teammate that everyone hopes they never get paired up with! (In retrospect, I'm a little embarrassed, but at the time my moaning, whining, sighing, swearing, and whimpering was completely justified...) Somehow, Ari always convinced me to continue- "Just push on to the next little village, then we'll talk about hitching, if you still want to." He would say something like that every time he could tell I was ready to quit. There's absolutely no way I would have finished if he hadn't pushed me so hard.

The most difficult part of the entire trip was undoubtedly the final 5 kilometers... It was pitch dark by this time (the last 1 1/2 hours were cycled with only the light of my headlamp), and we knew that we were close to town, but there was no way of telling exactly how far away we were. Although some of Mpika has electricity, it's hard to judge distance by a few flickering lights. Also, Mpika is known for its hills, and although the final few hills probably weren't that steep at all, at the time they were brutal! Every muscle- literally every single muscle- in my body ached incredibly, especially my lower back. I was ready to grab a spoke from my wheel and jab it through my throat, just to end the misery of biking! (That thought actually crossed my mind. I'm not just joking!)

When we finally arrived in Mpika, it felt surreal... almost too good to be true. We checked into a guest house, and without even waiting for hot water to be brought to our room, I took a cold bucket bath and collapsed into bed... glorious sleep! The next day my whole body was stiff and sore. I could barely move; I felt like an old, old, (still somewhat cranky), old woman. My ass was in so much pain that it even hurt to sit on the toilet (...that lasted for several days.)

All in all, the bike ride came out to be an exact distance of 150 kilometers and took us a total of 14 hours to complete. Without hesitation, I rank this among 1 of the most difficult physical (& possibly mental) challenges I've ever undertaken. I am definitely glad that I was able to complete it, and I now hold some bragging rights that I'm rather proud of, but I don't see myself ever attempting this trek again!

Seki Seki Showdown

An excerpt from my journal on March 21: ... So, back in February I had been waking up most nights to the sound of something moving around on my roof. I thought that it was maybe a chicken, but soon the sound shifted to something more like an animal trying to burrow into the grass in my roof.

I was told that it was probably seki seki nesting in my roof. Seki seki? Sounds like a legend or a mythical creature or something... Well, last night I saw my 1st seki seki face-to-face (quite literally). I woke up in the middle of the night to this loud, squeaky noise coming from the opening between the wall and roof just above my bed. It sounded like a cross between a bat, a monkey, and Gizmo (the cute little fuzzy creature from "The Gremlins"). I grabbed my headlamp, but couldn't find the noisy critter. A few minutes later, it was making all sorts of noise in my "kitchen" area, so I got up and decided that I would not return to bed until I got a good look at this guy.

It didn't take long. Within a few minutes, I saw a shadow scurrying along the top of my wall, causing dirt (& whatever else sits on top of my wall) to fall to the floor in big clumps. I shined my headlamp directly on the seki seki, and he just sat there and looked back at me, completely fearless. He had the body of a really fat and round mouse (maybe what I'd imagine a muskrat to look like). The head was much bigger than your typical mouse and it had these huge eyes- I don't know if those big eyes help him see in the dark, but its pupils were completely dilated... So there were 2 big, black eyes staring at me. Finally, it had a big, fluffy squirrel-like tail. The tail is the signature feature, I've been told.

Oddly enough, this little guy just sat there and looked at me. He was in the middle of midnight-snacking on a lizard or a moth or something, so he just continued munching. Of course, I was 1/2-asleep at the time, but I would have sworn he was giving me a "What are you looking at?!" face.  I grabbed a dish towel and snapped it at him. "Shoo! Shoo!" He didn't move. He must not understand English. "Fuma! Fuma!" (Yes, I actually tried to shoo him in Bemba). He still didn't move... Like I said- fearless!

I eventually just went back to bed. If the seki seki wants to stay up all night eating bugs and lizards, that's his business. And he seems harmless enough- even kinda cute.

Heartache Heard Around the World

Around 2 weeks ago I was sitting in my hut, preparing for an HIV/AIDS presentation for an upcoming village meeting. It was pretty hot that day, so I opted to work in the shade of my house... I spread out a piece of clean flipchart paper, grabbed my Sharpie markers, and began working on the title of my session: "Testing for HIV".

My shortwave radio was on the table and I was listening to the BBC, trying to catch up on current events as I was working. A British journalist gets on the air and previews the upcoming radio program, a report on how the war in Iraq has affected Smalltown, America. "This should be interesting..." I thought. Then I was immediately reminded of my hometown- the type of place where everyone knows everyone, can name everyone's 1st and 2nd cousins, and can give you a list of who everyone has dated. "Now I'm from Smalltown, America. The BBC should do a report on us", I thought. They did.

"We're coming to you today from the town of Windthorst, TX..." I heard the reporter announce on air. I literally put my marker down, leaned back in my chair, and gave my full attention to the radio... The past few months have been a trying time for most of the residents of Windthorst. With the recent loss of Gary Johnston, a young marine serving in Iraq, local families, students, churches, veterans, acquaintances, -essentially everybody who heard the news- came out to provide encouragement and support to the family. in a place with an official population of less than 400, I've heard that thousands were present to either attend his funeral, line the roads with USA flags, or voice their admiration for such a courageous young man. Gary's death has deeply affected my local community- & anyone else who was fortunate enough to have known him, I'm sure... In fact, after the initial shock of hearing the BBC mention Windthorst wore off, I honestly was not all that surprised to hear that Gary's story was being broadcast throughout the world. That just seems to be the type of impact he had.

As the report continued, his parents were interviewed about their thoughts on the war in general and Gary's sacrifice in particular. Pride, love, admiration, the pain of a deep and meaningful loss... all these things flowed out of their words so abundantly that I can't even recall exactly what was said, but their message was clear. They love Gary. They love their country. And they understand the cost of this war.

Others were also interviewed on the program... A mother whose son recently joined the military & my aunt & uncle, who I'd say represent the average residents of Windthorst. I sat back and tried to reflect on the "big picture" that this story was getting across. For me, it came down to this: suffering is everywhere... I looked at the poster I was making about HIV/AIDS and I thought, "Here I am in a foreign country trying to fight a war against HIV... People are dying everyday. Orphans are created everyday. Poverty abounds. At the same time, America fights this war in the Middle East... people are dying everyday. Family members are forever lost. Heartache abounds... What's happening to this world?" I was on the verge of being completely overwhelmed. So many "wars" are being waged on so many fronts... I see the devastation of HIV/AIDS regularly here in Zambia, and now I'm hearing about the devastation that the war in Iraq is causing even in my little hometown- on the BBC!

Where do I fit in? What am I really doing to change any of this? I was having a minor breakdown... "Futility" was the word I couldn't get out of my mind. How futile is my work here! How vain of me to think my accomplishments in this little village will have any real effect on anything! I was ready to crumple up my flipchart and throw it in the river... Then I remembered Gary. He chose to join the military. He chose to risk his life and ultimately forfeit it for something he believed in. I am inspired by that sort of courage. How remarkable!

I picked up my HIV notes and thought, "Okay, now what?" Even after Gary's death, the war continues. And even after my presentation, these villagers will continue to contract and die from HIV/AIDS. Suffering is universal, and I surely don't have the ability to stop it. That's when I realized that just as suffering is a universal concept experienced by everyone, so is another concept- the desire to be free from suffering. I've looked into the eyes of grieving Zambians who've lost a loved one to illness, and the emptiness, sorrow, pain- the endless ache to have their family member back- is as intense and as real as the grief any of us would feel, whether we've lost an AIDS victim or a war hero...

I understand that I can't save the world. I also do not believe that the world is beyond saving- at least bettering. We all want to be happy and to avoid suffering, and regardless of whether those goals are attainable, they open the doors to something else... compassion. I may never grasp the profound pain that I've witnessed this past year, but I understand its devastation and its ability to break hearts. Therefore, if making a colorful poster to encourage people to take an HIV test is one step I can take toward alleviating a bit of that heartache, then that's what I'm gonna do. I turned off the radio and got back to work.

Thanks for following my website entries. I appreciate each and every one of you. Take care, and keep Zambia and the world in your prayers!

Shalenipo,

Erin

February 22, 2007

Hey guys! I don't know about all of you, but 2007 has been such a whirlwind year for me so far... Between all of the workshops I've attended, trainings I've worked at, and illnesses I've dealt with over the past 2 months, I think I've spent less than 2 weeks at my village. I've been told that a Peace Corps volunteer's 2nd year of service just flies by, and I'm starting to believe it! I'm looking forward to some good 'ole quality time at my site and all of the chores and activities that go along with it- fetching water, cooking, biking, playing with village kids. After spending so much time dealing with public transportation (a nightmare every time!) and living out of my backpack, getting back to my hut sounds so good.

As some of you may have already heard, I battled my 1st major illness recently (other than that spider bite way back when). No worries, I'm fine now... It's just another story to add to the list of unexpected things that make living over here so exciting! Alright, I hope ya'll enjoy the following few exerpts from my life...

A Small Dose of Witchcraft

About a month ago I was chatting with my neighbor, Ba Friday, when he relayed the following story to me... There is a young couple who live in a nearby village who recently lost their young child to some sickness. They held a funeral for the child and borrowed a hoe from a fellow villager to dig the grave. A few days later, the man who had loaned them the hoe believed he was seeing the dead child playing in his fields when he went to work!

He told others about his sightings, but no one else ever saw anything in his fields... Ba Friday said that the man has now gone completely mad- the result of which is obviously the work of a local witch. The village is now trying to find out who is the witch who cast this curse on the madman so that they can have the black magic reversed. "You mean only the witch who cast the spell has the ability to make it go away?" I asked. "Well yes, of course," he responded. You learn something new every day.

Tick Bite Fever

Yep, I had Tick Bite Fever. No, that's not the same thing as lime disease (which everyone keeps asking me). Here's the story...

A few weeks ago I was in town to get some work done and to meet with a couple of the new trainees who had just arrived in country and were scheduled to spend a few days with me- seeing my village, learning about local customs, etc., etc. The 1st night I simply couldn't sleep, and I ended up staying awake the entire night. The following day I was working on the computer when I began to get a pounding headache- which I assumed was mostly the result of not sleeping the night before. Within 24 hours that headache had escalated to what I would guess a migraine feels like, and I was running a fever. At this point I took a malaria test- negative. I called the Peace Corps medical office, and the nurse simply recommended waiting until I was feeling better before taking the new trainees to my village.

The next morning (Day 3 of the headache) I decided to accompany another volunteer in showing the new trainees some of the local sites- the market, the grocery store, etc. (This was their 1st trip to an African market, and I didn't want to miss out). Terrible idea... Within a few hours, my head felt like it was in a constant "brain freeze" state! I was absolutely miserable! The pain felt like it was connected to the back of my eyeballs and every time I moved my eyes in any direction it agitated the headache- even turning my head too quickly to look at something felt like my brain was jiggling around! The only comfortable position was to lay down with my eyes closed... even bright lights made my head hurt. I took another malaria test- negative. My fever was 102 degrees.

I called the medical office again, and this time the nurse requested that I let another volunteer take over my job of hosting the new trainees and that I head down to Lusaka to get checked out. So early the next morning I got on a bus for a 10-hour ride of total misery. Every turn, every pot hole, every slam on the brakes felt like a bomb exploding in my skull- intensifying my "brain freeze" to an almost unbearable state.

When I finally arrived in Lusaka, they drew some blood and it was concluded that I was most likely suffering from Tick Bite Fever. The symptoms of Tick Bite Fever are severe headache, accompanied by fever and usually small rashes all over the body. ...Of course, there's usually a tick bite somewhere that is also surrounded by a rash. On my 2nd day in Lusaka, a red, flaky rash appeared right in the middle of my forehead- so, all signs pointed to Tick Bite Fever (except for the fact that I never found a tick bite on my body... I did, however, read on the internet that it can be up to 8 or 10 days after the tick bites that you come down with the fever. So, the bite could have completely healed before I ever got sick.) To make a long story short, it was a total of 8 days before I was back to normal. I don't think Tick Bite Fever can be fatal, but it is definitely painful. I'm just relieved that whole episode is over!

PCV of the Week

As I mentioned earlier, this year's batch of new trainees have arrived and are going through their 9 weeks of training before being sworn in as volunteers. This year I was fortunate enough to be selected as a "PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) of the Week", which means that I got to attend the training for 1 week and help facilitate sessions regarding our work, life in the village, Zambian culture, etc.

I must say that I really enjoyed getting to spend time and help out with all of the new trainees. Mostly, it was reassuring to meet all of these new arrivals- full of excitement, enthusiasm, nervousness, etc.- and really get a fresh perspective on just how far I've come in the past year. Many of them had new hiking pants, sandals, backpacks, water bottles, prescription glasses... it reminded me of how much I stressed over what to bring! They asked all the same questions I did when I was in training: "So did your 1st year go by fast or slow? Has it been really difficult being away from your friends and family or did you get used to it pretty fast? Where can I buy stamps? Can I wear workout shorts to exercise in the village?..."

I had no idea how much I've grown and adapted and gotten used to the peculiarities and wonderful aspects that make up Zambia. I truly do love it here... There were several trainees who had even read my website entries before coming here. One of my favorite comments was, "You had me really worried about taking Mefloquine!"

A Bus Ride to Remember (or better yet... FORGET!)

The following is an excerpt from my journal on Feb. 21, 2007... I returned from Lusaka yesterday afternoon after sitting through the most disgusting bus ride ever... So I arrived at the bus station in Lusaka around 3:45 am for a 5:00 am departure time. I climbed into the bus- which was already over 1/2 full with Zambians who had been sleeping there all night- and searched for an open seat. I found a seat, put my fully-loaded hiking pack in the back (which some guy tried to charge me 5,000 kwacha for, but I refused... I won), and then tried to settle down for a nap:

About 15 minutes later, some guy showed up and informed me that I was in his seat (he proceeded to show me the seat # on his ticket and he did ask really politely, so I agreed to get up and move). I looked for a seat # on my own ticket - #11 - and then headed that way. There were 2 men sitting in seats #11 and #13, with #12 open between them, and I could have easily just sat in between them, but (A) I wasn't too crazy about being squished between 2 Zam guys for 10 hours, and (B) I like to sit next to the window on these long trips. That was probably the biggest mistake I could have made- the decision to insist on seat #11.

So, I squeezed passed the 2 guys and into my seat next to the window. The man next to me had unbearable body odor, and he was sitting with a car battery in a mealie meal sack wedged between his feet, so there was no getting around him being scrunched up next to me. He was wearing a thick denim jacket, so his arm that was pressed up against my arm was making me sweat (not to mention, the denim felt kind of sticky, like it had never been washed since it was 1st bought by someone back in the 80's)... But the worst part was yet to come.

I rested my head on the window and tried to get some sleep. Moments later, I noticed something moving. I looked at the window to find roaches crawling on the glass! I scooched away from the window (putting me in much more intimate contact with my neighbor guy than I would have preferred), and tried not to look at the bugs. That's when I noticed the roaches crawling on the back of the chair in front of me, up the wall below the window, and on the floor by my feet!

The next 1/2 hour or so was spent flicking away bugs that got too close to me and trying not to dwell on how nasty and unclean that bus must have been to have acquired a roach infestation. So, at 5:00 the bus took off and they turned the lights out- they turned the lights out!! There I was, sitting amidst a community of roaches, and now I couldn't even see where they were!

I finally resigned myself to the fact that they were going to touch me and crawl over me whether I fought against it or not, so I rested my head against the window and went to sleep... I awoke a few hours later and to my surprise, didn't see any roaches. Maybe it was because the sun was up and shining into the bus. Or, maybe the strong current of air that was coming in through some of the open windows had something to do with it? I didn't know, didn't care.

About 7 hours into the trip, we made a stop in the town of Mpika for people to get food, walk around, use toilets, etc., so I got out to stretch my legs. I was talking to a well-dressed Zambian man about his sister who lives in America, when I felt something moving on my leg... I looked down to see a big roach crawl out of my pant leg and across my foot! Ugh! I then shook my pant leg and 2 or 3 more roaches fell out - DISGUSTING! So my little theory that the roaches magically disappeared when the sun came out was totally wrong- they were hibernating up my pants! Yuck.

Well guys, that's all I have for this letter. We are currently deep in the heart of rainy season here, so even if I weren't running around so much, it would be difficult to accomplish much more work at home anyway... Meetings are cancelled without question if it's raining outside. Also, one of my villages is on the other side of the Lukulu River, which at my crossing point has swelled from a width of around 30-40 meters to about 1/2 a kilometer! That community has insisted that I do not return to visit them again until mid-April, when the water has receded some... For now, the river is too dangerous- the current is swift and there's a lot of vast, shallow areas (only 1-2 meters deep), making it a potential playground for crocs.

Happy Valentine's, Mardi Gras, and St. Patrick's Day! The big news in Zambia right now is that Brittany Spears shaved her head. I swear, you can't escape pop culture no matter how hard you try. Take care, everyone!

Shalenipo,

Erin

January 29, 2007

Hi guys! I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and New Years... I definitely had a one-of-a-kind holiday season travelling in Tanzania- So much fun! I don't have much to say about village life this time, since I've been away from my site a lot lately. Between taking some vacation time off and assisting with the training of the new trainees who just arrived, January and February will probably be the 2 most hectic months of my year. Okay, well I guess I'll cut to the chase...

Zanzibar

Jambo Jambo! That's "hello" in Swahili, the most widely spoken language in Tanzania. Ready for a quick Swahili lesson? Asante saana = Thank you very much, Karibuni = You're welcome, Poli poli = bit by bit (or slowly, slowly), simba = lion, rafiki = friend, & hakuna matata = no problem. Needless to say, a few Lion King songs were stuck in our heads throughout our Zanzibar trip!

So, spending the Christmas and New Year's holidays in Zanzibar was even more wonderful than I imagined... I'll admit, it didn't feel like Christmas, but since Christmas is treated the same as any other day throughout this region of the world, it was nice to at least celebrate it on one of the most incredible beaches I've ever visited.

About 8 other volunteers and myself began our trip a few days before Christmas by embarking on a 2-day train ride that carried us completely across the nation of Tanzania. Throughout those 2 days we saw African landscape that was so gorgeous I was practically glued to the window in awe... thriving farmland, a picturesque mountain range, lush wilderness... We even passed through a national game park where we caught sight of water buffalo, impala, wart hogs, zebras, giraffes, and even a herd of elephants that lifted their trunks and trumpeted greetings to us as we passed by!

Once we arrived in Zanzibar we spent ample time on the beach, enjoying the white sands and admiring the Indian Ocean. We snorkled, perused local art shops, went on a spice tour, and indulged ourselves in fresh fruit and fish. We also made our way into Stone Town, which I would describe as the heartbeat of the island... a collection of old stone buildings and streets, narrow alleyways that twist and turn into complicated neighborhood grids, one-of-a-kind shops that have been ran by the same families for generations, enticing and bustling marketplaces, and venders on the corners selling anything from cashews to octopus. Amidst all of these wondrous sights and features, I was most interested in the cultural diversity of this place... It's hard to place in a category the peoples of Stone Town- Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Indigenous African traditions. When traveling through town one is likely to see women covered from head to toe in black material (with only their eyes exposed), men in long white linen shirts and leather sandals on their way to afternoon prayers, women with intricate henna tattoos turning their hands and arms into natural works of art and signifying their marital status, young girls and their mothers with their hair tired up in colorful local wraps, and of course, you're bound to see at least a dozen lazy cows roaming wherever they please with no restraints.

So in a nutshell, Zanzibar was incredible and I loved it. Not only was it a relaxing getaway from my daily life in Zambia, it was also a chance for me to broaden my perspective of life and cultures in Africa. Beautiful landscapes, peoples, and traditions... This was a holiday season to remember.

My 1st Year in Zambia

It was exactly a year ago this week that I hugged and kissed my family goodbye and left the familiarity of home for the mystery of Africa. Knowing so very little about what to expect, I remember feeling like this was one of those deciding moments in life when you take the proverbial leap of faith and hope for the best... Well in that case, my leap into a new world of people, customs, lifestyles, challenges, etc. was one of the best decisions I have ever made- changing and developing myself in countless more ways than I ever could have imagined.

Arriving in Zambia, I was unsure of whether I would be able to thrive here- Will I learn the local language? Will villagers accept me? Will my work have any lasting effect? Will I ever get used to living in a mud hut? These questions lingered in my mind during the 1st few months,  but as time passed, and I got used to the food, the folks, and the "fat" comments, everything seemed much more manageable.

Several people have asked, "Can you believe it's already been a year?" The answer is both yes and no... At times I cannot believe it's only been 1 year since I've seen my family. To think back to what I was doing over a year ago- Well, that was a lifetime ago! However, when I think about the fact that I am almost halfway through my service here in Zambia, I just can't get my mind around how fast time has seemed to pass... There's so much more that I want to accomplish with the communities that I work with and so many more sites to see and traditions to learn about and ideas to explore!

Now that I've completed my 1st year in Africa, there is one thing that I've learned that I am certain of: This life (this world) is beautiful and God is evident throughout. I love my life here... Don't get me wrong, I've faced more challenges in the past 12 months than I've probably faced in the other25 years of my life combined, but there hasn't been a single day when I considered calling it quits and going home to the States. Every day is a new experience and every experience is another chance to learn about myself: my faith, my capabilities, my resolve.

In the brief span of a year my entire life has changed... From fetching my own water everyday to dealing with bats and poisonous spiders to speaking Bemba to confronting the devastating effects of HIV/AIDS firsthand, there is nothing that could have prepared me for this. Yes, it's been incredibly difficult at times, but I am a better person for it. I'm excited to see what this next year has in store!

I want to take this opportunity to say thank you to all of you who have been so encouraging and supportive of me. Your letters, your prayers, and your words of inspiration have been invaluable to me. Thank you for everything you do... And I want to specifically thank my family for their continuous encouragement- I love you!

Shalenipo,

Erin

Mwalileni Ichimishimishi Bonse Mukwai! (Merry Christmas everyone!) With Christmas only 2 weeks away, it couldn’t feel less like the holiday season here- steamy, tropical weather; no Christmas carols, trees full of ornaments, or Santa Clauses. It would be so wonderful to see some Christmas lights or to simply smell cookies baking in the oven! But, I am not complaining… A little naked boy walked up to me and offered me a mango a few days ago- That beats the traditional candy cane any day! J

In the past few weeks I’ve planted all sorts of flowers that have been sent to me from the States. None of them have sprouted yet, but I have the seed packets staked to the flower beds to mark where I’ve planted what… I’ve been amazed at how many villagers like to look at the bluebonnet packets. Several have commented that the bluebonnets are their favorites, and they hope they grow well. A little piece of Texas here in the village- If nothing else, at least that will be my legacy!

Also, I forgot to mention in my last letter that since moving to the village of Safwa, I’ve experienced a significant reduction in the number of pests in my house. At my last place, I was bombarded by termites (crawling up the walls, dropping from the ceiling and into my hair…). There was also a serious roach problem, not to mention wall spiders, ticks, wasps, and the occasional rat or bat. Here in Safwa, however, I have only seen a few ticks and some little caterpillar/worm things that I think are falling from the ceiling when it rains… Not a bad trade-off if you ask me!

I only have a few stories to pass along to you this time, but after the novella I wrote last month, I’m sure you’re all relieved. J Enjoy…

The King Cobra

One afternoon I was sitting in front of my house chatting with my neighbor Patrick when a villager approached, wielding a freshly killed King Cobra snake! The snake was pierced through the head with a spear, which the villager carried over his shoulder like a baseball bat. We asked him to come closer so I could look at the snake and take some photos… It was beautiful and majestic! It had deep black skin and a shiny silver belly. When the man held it up to show off the length, it was as tall as him- so, I’d say it was close to 6 feet long. At its mid-section the cobra was as thick as my arm!

Patrick held up the head to show me where the skin fans out when it is about to strike- I had been questioning whether it was actually a King Cobra because I didn’t know they could get so big… Yep, it was a cobra alright. J It’s really an amazing creature. I tried to imagine how it would feel to confront a living snake like this… I would probably hyperventilate, black out, or simply die directly on the spot. That’s how absolutely terrifying I think this cobra would be- and that’s coming from someone who doesn’t have a particular fear of snakes.

The villager said that he killed the snake while he was out in the bush. I tried to be funny: “Good! So you didn’t find him behind my bathing shelter?” I got a couple blank looks. Patrick at least smiled at me. J And that, my friends, was my first and hopefully my last close-up encounter with an African King Cobra.

Beware of Crocodiles

The same day as the cobra sighting, I was chatting with my other neighbor, Friday. He made a point to warn me that I should be extra-careful when going down to the river because a crocodile is there during the rainy season. Several villagers had apparently mentioned to him that I sit too close to the water for comfort and that he needed to warn me about the crocodile threat.

“Even the children are not allowed near the water during the rainy season… The croc has even eaten a goat that was at the river to drink water.” He always talks as if there is only one croc that comes to this area year after year looking for food. He estimated that to be safe, I should stay about 10 meters from the edge of the water at all times. “And do not put your feet in the water,” he added.

I asked about all of the women who go down to the river everyday to wash their clothes and dishes. What do they do? “They are just very careful. They know the croc is there.” So, although I really hope to see a croc at some point, I don’t want that to be the last thing I see, so I’m thankful for the warning. J

Lost

Although the series “Lost” is one of my favorite TV shows (I am one of many volunteers anxiously awaiting the arrival of the next season), actually becoming lost in the bush is one of my greatest fears here. Wandering through the wild, fighting off mosquitoes and the sun, eventually running out of water, energy, motivation to survive… Just to be discovered centuries later by archeologists, puzzled at how the Bemba tribe produced a white girl.

Well, the following is an excerpt from my journal, detailing how I recently found myself in unknown territory. From December 8, 2006:

“… A few days ago I was on my way to Nduta village, which I haven’t traveled to in about 2 months (possibly more), when I became temporarily lost. About 5K off the tarmac, the bush path forks in 2. I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to keep left or keep right… My gut feeling was to go right, so I did. I couldn’t tell if the path looked familiar because I had only come this way during the dry season, and now that the rains have begun, everything is full, lush, and green… Plants overflow the path in some areas- Everything looks different. Nduta village is just past some railway tracks, but when I arrived at the tracks, the path did not continue over and into the village. As I was turning around to go back to the fork in the road, I noticed a path to my left that followed the tracks. I’ll jut take this and I’m sure it connects me to where I’m supposed to be- I thought.

So I biked alongside the tracks for a kilometer or two, when the path suddenly ended and there was absolutely nowhere to go, unless I wanted to visit a random villager at his house. So, I backtracked all the way back to the fork in the road. It was hot and I was already a sweaty mess. I then took the left path, but almost immediately I knew this was the wrong way. I biked through a small clearing (I’d never seen a clearing like that before) and then found myself atop a small hill… As far as I could see there was thick bush full of bright green trees. The clouds were casting big shadows that were rolling across the landscape… It was stunning. Absolutely breath-taking. I knew I was lost at this point, but I didn’t care. It was worth it just to get a glimpse of what the world must have looked like before we took over. I dug through my bag to find my camera and take a few photos- They don’t do the experience any justice. I also found in my bag a note that said to keep right at the fork in the road. I knew it!

So, again, I turned around, went to the fork in the road and took the right path for the 2^nd time. When I came to the dead end at the railway, I this time noticed a small bush path leading to my right (I hadn’t even thought to look to the right earlier because it seemed that my only other option was in the other direction). I took the path to my right and not even 100 meters later, I was at the point of the railway tracks where you cross over and into the village. I had been so close!! From the tracks, I looked back and could see the path that I used to take in the past- completely covered with overgrowth. The new path was only an ever-so-slight deviation, but it was still enough to have me confused and traipsing around the bush for an hour!” J

…Looking back on that day, I am so thankful to have had the experience of losing my way. It was all more than worth it to have had just that moment of appreciating the view, creating, God, my time here in Africa- my time in the world, period. What a wonderfully satisfying experience!

A Lesson in History & Witchcraft

This past week was “Child Health Week” here in Zambia, meaning that local clinics throughout the country would visit the rural villages in their areas to perform Under 5 clinics and administer vaccinations, vitamin supplements, etc. The day that the CHW clinic came to Safwa, I assisted the nurse, and when it was all over I kept him company while he was waiting for his ride to arrive.

We walked down to the river, and at the sight of the rocks where I like to sit, he asked if I knew the history of this place… According to the nurse, the Nguni people used to occupy this land. Then the Bembas came and decided to drive them out. They kept pushing them south along the Chambeshi River until they came to Safwa. It was the dry season, and the Nguni people found that they could easily cross the river on foot at these rapids, where the rocks were highly exposed. I’m still not sure exactly what the word Safwa means (I had been told a while back that it has something to do with a spirit or spirits of some kind), but the “Safwa Rapids” where the Ngunis crossed to get out of Bembaland is a pretty major historical spot. That’s why this village took on the name of Safwa.

Now, when you cross the Chambeshi River you are still very much in Bembaland. So, I asked him where exactly the Ngunis went- I haven’t even heard of an Nguni language in Zambia anyway. He explained that they migrated all the way to Eastern Province and settled there… The Nyanja people (the current inhabitants of most of Eastern province) are actually descendents of the Ngunis. In fact, in deep Nyanjaland you might even be able to find some people who still speak Nguni the way it used to be spoken before it became modern-day Nyanja.

The nurse then asked if I’d seen any crocs… And this is where it got really interesting. He said that there was no reason for me to worry because the crocs that attack people aren’t actually crocs at all- They’re witchdoctors. The witchdoctors transform themselves into crocs so they can harm people… He was very serious, and even though I kept questioning how he could really believe in all that, he insisted it was true. “You can call it witchcraft, black magic, Satanism, juju, whatever you want… It is when people let the evil spirits take over.” He went on to say that witchcraft can have no effect on us- white people and health care workers- because we are here to help people. “Killing one of us would be like killing themselves, so it cannot work on us. You don’t need to worry,” he assured me. J

“But how do you know it’s black magic and not just a regular croc that was hungry?” I asked. He said that crocs have been killed that would be wearing a bracelet or a necklace- How else can you explain that? That croc must have been a witchdoctor… I let the matter rest at that.

Village Bling

A few weeks ago, Patrick’s young son Junior was running around in a pair of shorts that were so ripped up and misshapen that they would not stay up, and he was constantly pulling at them to stay around his waist. I went in the house and reappeared with 2 safety pins, which I gave to Patrick, explaining that they were for fixing Junior’s shorts.

Well, recently Patrick’s wife stopped by and I noticed that in her left ear was a big safety pin! She was wearing it like an earring!! It was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time… But I wonder why she stopped with just the left ear… I gave her a complete set. J

That’s all folks! I want to wish everyone a Happy Holidays… I will be relaxing with friends on the beaches of Zanzibar, enjoying a week of vacation days. But to be honest, I’d rather be with my family at Christmas than anywhere else in the world. So… count your blessings, hug your parents, peace on Earth, and all that jazz! Take care.

Shalenipo,

Erin