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

Great Post Erin! I can't believe you made it through that bike-ride. See ya in a few short weeks....

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