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Emily's Journal
Thought I’d give you a little snippet of Zambian news. Honest to God, Politics of Buttocks really was the title and it really did run in the editorial section of the main NATIONAL newspaper. My comments are in parentheses.
Editor,
I wish to air my views on the recent sentiments attributed to the outspoken government marionette mouthpiece Mutale Nalumango (some Zambian woman).
She is reported to have defended President Mwanawasa for saying that the UPND (the opposition political party) were buttocks that could not suddenly find themselves in the fore.
She proclaimed that in her area, and therefore in Levy’s (the president’s) area, it is not an abomination to mention buttocks anyhow. Like many other respectful writers before me, I beg to disagree with Nalumango!
In any part of Zambia, and many other parts of the world, it is an abomination to mention certain parts of the body anyhow especially in public (gotta love the grammar). I will briefly explain why.
This is specifically for the benefit of Nalumango and Levy since they seem to have no basic data on basic traditional etiquette.
Buttocks and reproductive organs should not be exposed or mentioned in public any time anyone feels like it. The reason for this is attributed to the functions of these organs which are supposed to be sacred (only in Africa would the ass be considered sacred).
All human organs associated with sex and defecation are sacred (so now he’s saying that taking a crap is sacred??).
The sacredness was actually ordained by God in the Garden of Eden many many years ago (REALLY??). To go against God’s ordainment is blasphemous!
Buttocks specifically have a special place in the realm of sacredness. Even if the sacredness of buttocks had not been ordained by God, one would normally hesitate to mention them because of what they are associated with. Some people may think that God inserted those two huge pieces of meat on the rear just for decoration (now there’s a mental picture for you!!).
Those pieces of meat have a special protective function. They protect the vent through which stuff that should not be ejected in public passes (ah, the eloquence of respectful writers).
It is not an abomination to mention body parts such as the head, eyes, ears, hands, and legs. That is why infact these parts are not hidden from public view.
The other parts that are normally hidden from public view i.e. buttocks and reproductive organs are also not normally mentioned anyhow anywhere.
Cortez
Anyway, my opinion of the Zambian media has just been elevated to a whole new level. I think we can all agree that this guy’s head is stuffed somewhere between his two sacred pieces of meat. Hope you enjoyed!!
Last weekend I went down to Victoria Falls. About double the size of Niagara, it is the largest waterfall in the world. I probably only saw half, and still, it was absolutely incredible. Anyway, here are the details of my weekend:
I took off from Lusaka early Friday morning with a friend and her sister (visiting from the States). We had tickets for the first class bus, but it never showed up, so we ended up rushing with the crowds of people to get on the regular bus. The trip wasn’t too bad—only about six hours—so we arrived mid-afternoon. We decided we didn’t have time to head down to the falls that afternoon, so instead we signed up for the evening’s booze cruise on the Zambezi river. Despite the obvious focus on alcohol, the cruise also gave us a great chance to see some wildlife (crocodiles, hippos, and elephants), as well as a stunning sunset. We met some pretty cool people as well, so after the trip ended, we headed back to our hotel (many of the people on the boat were also staying there) and hung out.
The next day, it was off to the falls. The first glimpse was absolutely phenomenal. The falls were huge, and I could probably see only a quarter from where I stood!! (The falls are over 2 kilometers wide; check out http://www.zambiatourism.com/welcome.htm, Victoria Falls). We took a bunch of photos, then walked around to the top of the falls. The rainbows from the spray were amazing as well, so we sat and watched people seemingly walk thru them on the opposite side. From there, we trekked back to the other side of the falls (mind you, I don’t mean the other side of the river, that’s Zimbabwe, and kind of a pain in the ass to get to unless you want to pay a bunch of cash), rented ponchos (the best $1 I’ve spent in a while; something I was reminded of as I started down the trail and immediately ran into a Zambian girl about my age totally soaked thru. In a white t-shirt. With no bra.), and ventured out onto the walking bridge that faces the falls. Despite the gorgeous sunny day, the spray makes you feel as though you’re stuck in the middle of a downpour, so we all tried our best to keep as much of our bodies as we could under the poncho. It was great, and the sheer size of the falls volume of the water passing over it was beyond astounding. Truly, I have seen few things so amazing in my life.
When we finally were able to pull ourselves away from the spectacle that is Victoria Falls, we took off for the Zambia-Zimbabwe bridge to do some bungee jumping. My friend had a free jump remaining from one of her previous visits, and somehow had convinced me that it would be a great idea if I jumped as well. I wavered for a bit, then finally decided to give it a go. The bridge was about 110 meters high (damn high in my book), and as I stood at the edge, ready to jump, I considered that this just might be my last act as a living human being. Not a nice thought right before you’re about to jump off a bridge. Anyway, I stared out at Zimbabwe, and after a little countdown from the guys behind me, did a lovely little swan dive before falling down into the canyon. It was good fun, although I can’t say I need to do it again. And it was pretty cool looking back at the largest waterfall in the world while hanging upside-down from a bridge.
To celebrate our near brushes with death, we went for pizza that evening, then got up early to go and ‘walk with the rhinos’. Zambia is famous for its walking safaris, so I figured that it was high time for me to take advantage of it. The first thing we saw that morning was, you guessed it, rhinos. A pair of them, to be exact. And from about 20ft (5m) away. ON FOOT. The thought that a three-ton beast could rush us at any time was a bit daunting, but seeing them was pretty cool. We hung around there for a few minutes, then headed off on our walk. We ended up seeing giraffes, elephants, wildebeest, warthogs, as well as a few other minor creatures. It was great.
After the walk, we headed back and chilled for the rest of the day. The next day, we got up, did a bit of shopping at the market in town, and got the bus (first class this time) back to Lusaka. All in all, a pretty great weekend if I do say so myself.
When Zack picked me up from the airport in Lusaka, I was totally exhausted. I had just spent about 30 hours in transit, and had slept for about 2 of those hours. I wanted nothing more than to go to our hotel and go to sleep. However, I was informed, that would not be happening. Zack’s cousin had died two days prior to my arrival, so we had to go traight to the funeral house. Now, for all you Americans (and anyone else Western) when I say funeral house, I do not mean funeral home. I mean the house of the deceased. After the person dies, friends and family gather there 24/7 to mourn and provide support for the remaining immediate family (in this case, the widow and the children) until the body is buried. They all eat there, sleep there, talk about the deceased, etc.
I had been to one Zambian funeral before I left for Australia, so I had a general idea of what happened. You arrive at the funeral home, and go to join either the men or the women (in Zambia they mourn separately). Fortunately, I knew one of Zack’s cousins, so I went and sat with her. Many of the women were wailing; this horrible crying noise that lasts for hours. In Zambia, it is customary for the wailing to continue until the body was buried (which could be several days later—the women take turns).
Because I was foreign, and thus not expected to adhere completely to Zambian customs, Zack took me back to the hotel to sleep. He went back to the funeral house and slept there, as they still had to discuss burial arrangements and the like. Let’s just say I felt lucky—there were about 80 people sleeping at the house and only one pit toilet. Granted, I probably should have been thinking about things that were a bit more important considering the circumstances, but after what was now close to three days without sleep, I was barely functioning.
The burial was scheduled for the next day, following the autopsy. Is now a good time to mention details concerning the death?? Why not. Zack’s cousin was about 28. Unlike a majority of people around these parts, he did not die from a disease. No, he was poisoned by a beer. In Zambia, they sell this really nasty beer that’s kind of like our malt liquor. It’s very cheap (read: popular), and is packaged in a carton. When I first got here, I thought it was milk. However, that means it’s easy to tamper with. This guy polished off the beer, then within about 15 minutes, started going into convulsions. Within 45 minutes, he was dead. The autopsy determined that it was some sort of neurotoxin, but of course, could not determine who poisoned him. The main suspects were: bad beer (note to self: never drink beer out of cartons), the WIFE, and the man himself (suicide). As far as I know, they still have not reached a conclusion.
Moving on, the autopsy was finally completed, and about 150 people crowded into the backs of several trucks and took off for the cemetery. Before the burial, they all stopped at a small building, where the body was unloaded and the casket was opened for the body viewing. Apparently in this part of Africa, seeing the body is very important—they need to make sure it’s really the person, that they’re actually dead, etc. This part was the hardest for me—not because of the body viewing itself, but because of all the increased wailing. Added to this was the wife, the mother, and many of the other female relatives passing out on top of the casket and having to be carried out by male family members. When compared to western funerals, it was extremely intense, although I don’t necessarily think their method of mourning is bad—everyone expresses their grief fully, so after the burial there are fewer problems with repressed feelings.
We finally made it out to the burial grounds where a small ceremony was conducted. In Lusaka, there’s one huge cemetery, divided by religion. Because this guy didn’t go to church, he was relegated to its’ far reaches. As it was, the ceremony happened to be right next to another that was going on simultaneously. About half way through the ceremony for Zack’s cousin, two girls from the other ceremony got in a fight. Apparently, they were fighting over a man, and ended up sort of falling into the middle of our ceremony (apparently about half the people at the other ceremony were completely drunk). When their ceremony ended, a truck drove thru the middle of our ceremony to pick up the people at the other. More fighting ensued (there was not enough space in the small pickup truck to fit the 30 odd people trying to climb in), including a scuffle between two of the men trying to climb in (apparently the woman who died had been a prostitute, and the men were arguing over something relating to her death). Needless to say, the whole spectacle really added to the ceremony that they were attempting to perform for Zack’s cousin. The other people finally left, leaving us in peace. Shortly thereafter, our ceremony came to an end, and everyone crowded back into the trucks and headed back to the city. Zack had to work the next day, so we headed back to Ndola later that afternoon (which I definitely did not complain about). It had been a crazy couple of days, preceded by over a month of travel, so I was more than happy to get home. What a great ‘welcome back’ to Africa!!
I just got back from a lovely month in Australia, so I figured it was high time for me to sit down and write another journal entry. ‘Shouldn’t you be in Africa?’, you may ask. However, visa complications in Zambia forced me out of the country on a little holiday (I know, my life is rough!!). So, after some convincing from a friend living in Melbourne, I decided to head down under. And convinced my dear mother to meet me for a bit of traveling. Here are details of the trip:
I flew from Lusaka to Johannesburg, and then on to Sydney. The flight wasn’t too bad; only about twelve hours, and Qantas isn’t too bad. I arrived into Sydney mid-afternoon, and went to the hotel to meet my mom. What a beautiful place!! Definitely a bit of a culture shock coming from a small city (town) in Central Africa. Everything there is so clean!! And everyone moves so quickly!! We spent several days in Sydney, doing all the typical Sydney things—the opera house, the harbour bridge, the shopping, the eating…quite a lovely and CLEAN city. I was especially excited about all the great seafood. Oh yeah, and there was the wine, and the cheese, and the ice cream…
From there we flew up to Cairns in Northern Queensland. Having heard it was nothing to write home about, we drove (yes, that would be me driving the rental car on the left side of the road!!) directly up to Port Douglas, about 40 miles north of there and a jumping point to get out to the Barrier Reef. We spent our first full day out diving (mom went snorkeling), and had great time. Unfortunately, there had been a cyclone the week before, so the visibility wasn’t great, but we still saw quite a bit. We spent a couple more days in PD, but unfortunately, couldn’t really enjoy the lovely beaches, as it was jelly fish season. And unlike jellyfish I’ve seen before, those suckers could kill you!! Out on the reef it was ok, but for some reason the beaches were not. Needless to say, we decided we could wait to get back to the hotel pool.
From Port Douglas, we headed north to Daintree, still along the coast, but now tropical rainforest. It was quite beautiful, but looked pretty much like tropical rainforest anywhere in the world. We did stay at a cute little B&B, tho, so that was fun. We spent one day driving up to Cape Tribulation, the most northerly point you can drive to on paved roads (they make you sign something saying you won’t take your rental car off the pavement).
From there we took off for the outback (or as much of the outback as you can reach by driving 2 hours from the coast). On the way out, we stopped at a golf course and saw bunches of kangaroos (apparently they’re like the deer of Australia—aka they’re everywhere—and they like to hang out at places with lots of water—aka golf courses). It was actually rather amusing watching the people in golf carts chase the kangaroos around. Later in the day we stopped off at this big gorge / park that had a bunch of wallabies. It was privately run, so we got to feed the little buggers. We finally made it to the outback after another quick stop at a coffee plantation run by the cutest old Italian couple (the man totally reminded me of my grandpa) who kept making us taste random things. The outback wasn’t quite as barren as I had imagined, but it was still pretty dusty. We ended up in an old mining town, so we went up and watched a gorgeous sunset from one of the old smelters. Absolutely gorgeous. The stars that evening were also incredible—I really don’t think I’ve ever seen quite so many stars in one place (especially after living in Shanghai, where you can see, like, three). We sat outside for at least a half hour just enjoying the night.
The next day we left and went down to the lake country. The weather took a turn for the worse, but it was still beautiful. We ended up in a nice little guesthouse on a lake that had the greatest scones and tea. Spent the next couple of days just driving around and enjoying the scenery.
From Queensland, we flew south to Tasmania. We arrived in the northern part and headed south to Cradle Mountain. It was a bit chilly (especially for me, as Jan-March in Zambia sees daily temperatures of 80-90F/30-35C), but absolutely gorgeous. We made it in time for the sunset and got some great views. The next day, we woke up early and hiked around the lake at the base of the mountain, then took off and went west to the beaches. We ended up staying in a little town that I forget the name of, but we got to see penguins, so I was totally pumped. It was also a quick drive from Freycinet National Park, possibly one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. It has amazing beaches, including Wine Glass Bay, which is rated one of the 10 best in the world. We did a day hike that was jam packed with amazing views. Definitely a highlight of my trip. From Freycinet, we continued down the coast (stopping at a berry farm that made desserts and scones that tasted like little drops of heaven) to Port Arthur, an old British penal colony from the late 1800’s-early 1900’s. Very interesting, and a nice change considering we hadn’t done much of anything historical up to this point. We ended the trip in Hobart, the capital of Tasmania. It was a nice small city, and although we didn’t really do much of anything worth mentioning (wait, we did go wine tasting for a day), it was a great way for mom and I to end our trip together.
So thus we parted ways: mom flew back to the US and I flew up to Melbourne to stay with my dear friend French Greg (We met in China, but now he’s in school in Australia). I spent about 2 weeks there, mainly just hanging out and catching up. It was nice to relax (not that I don’t have plenty of time for relaxing in Zambia), especially in the comfort of civilization. I ate ice cream at least once a day and gained bunches of weight and didn’t care one bit. Did most of the typical Melbourne things, and took one day and drove up the coast to the twelve apostles (between Melbourne and Adelaide). All in all, a wonderful time.
And it was thus that my trip came to a close. My month+ had expired, so I headed back the way I came and made it in to Zambia. Granted, my reentry was only semi-legal, but that’s another story altogether….
So you’ve made it to my lovely little online journal!! There’s so much to write about that I really don’t even know where to start. I’m going to put a few things down right now, give you some links, and fill the rest in later. Otherwise this will never get online (I’m working on African time, which, I assure you, makes it ok that I’ve been here for 2 months and have not told anyone anything about my life here).
Thus far, living in Africa has been the craziest experience I’ve ever had. At least with China, I more or less knew what to expect. I knew the language, was familiar with the history and culture, and had had a reasonable amount of contact with Chinese people prior to moving there. Here, I feel at a complete loss much of the time-the culture is SO foreign to me. Things come up just about every day that shock or surprise me. It’s tough sometimes, but overall I think it’s pretty great.
For lack of a plan, I’m going to start by telling you about where I’m living. If you want more information about Zambia (history, economy, etc.), please check out: http://www.cia.gov/cia/publications/factbook/geos/za.html (yes, I am too lazy to type it all).
As for the city I live in, Ndola is a city of just under half a million people, including those people living in compounds (read: shantytowns) surrounding the city center. It is located about 5 miles from the border with D.R. Congo (I can’t cross the border into Congo though, as they arrest white people). There are lots of trees, a nice swimming pool (although from what I can tell, no one really swims in it (not many Africans swim), so it serves more as a place to sit around, relax, and drink-something Zambians seem to do a lot of), three traffic robots (can you guess what those are?? Yep, that’s right-stoplights!!), only one of which works at any given time, and a hippo that lives on the nearby Kafubu River (or so I hear, I haven’t actually seen it, or any other wild animals for that matter). It’s very peaceful here.
Our apartment is fairly nice by Zambian standards. It’s right in the center of town, and very close to the hospital so Zack only has a 5 min walk to work. We have running water, electricity, furniture, and all (ok, almost all) of the modern amenities. Alright, so the water pump was out for the first three weeks we lived in the apartment, so we (read: the maid) had to haul bucket after bucket of water up three flights of stairs, but the problem has been resolved, so it’s all good now. Also, as is common in the tropics, the place is somewhat infested with a variety of creepy crawly creatures along the lines of lizards and cockroaches. Ah, this is love.
Ndola itself is quite representative of Zambia’s sad state of affairs. As the capital of the Copperbelt Province, it used to be one of the richest cities in Zambia. From what I’ve heard, the Zambian Kwacha (the local currency) used to be comparable to the British Pound in value (I think it’s about 1.7 dollars to the pound). Now, it’s about 5000 Kwacha to the dollar. As one might expect from such rampant inflation, Zambia today is extremely poor. Unemployment is about 85%, and most people live on less than $1 a day. (For example: we pay our full-time maid about $26 a month-double what many people pay. I would like to pay her more, but it’s unreasonable when many educated people don’t make more than $30/month.) And things are EXPENSIVE here. Anything manufactured is at least the same price as in the US, and sometimes as much as double the price. It’s mind boggling.
Culturally, there are about 50 or so ethnic groups in Zambia. They are alike in many ways, but also have many (sometimes very subtle) differences. The major ethnic group here in Ndola is the Bemba. Zack also happens to be Bemba, so I’ve gotten quite a taste of their traditions and customs. Many traditions center on the family (pretty typical in Africa; many of the following examples are common to other ethnic groups in the region as well); I’ll give you a few examples:
(in random order)
*** A few weeks ago, I told our maid that she could bring her son with her to the house for a day (she had previously told me that she only had one son). So imagine my surprise when she showed up with two little boys who looked almost exactly alike. She introduced them, then summarily informed me that the older of the two was the son of her sister, who passed away several years ago. The reason they looked so much alike? Not because their mothers were sisters, but because they had the SAME father. Yes, that’s right. I was a bit miffed until I found out that apparently it is common here that when one woman dies, her sister often takes her place in her marriage. It’s the same if a married man dies-one of his brothers will marry the widow (Zack has informed me that if he ever goes, there is more than one brother/cousin willing to step up and take his place with me. Fabulous, sign me up). There is some logic behind this practice, as it provides a device for caring for any dependents left by the deceased. (However, it is becoming more and more of a problem, as many deaths today are from HIV/AIDS, and that just causes the disease to spread from one family member to the next-it’s very sad.)
*** Marital traditions are also rather interesting. Before marriage, women are actually trained by professionals in the art of sex (as well as other traits that make a good wife). This includes explicit instructions on techniques and demonstrations of different positions that the woman should use to please her man (demonstrations are performed by a group of older women hired by the bride’s family). It also includes advice on what a good wife should and should not do-she should have food waiting for him whenever he comes home, she shouldn’t question where he’s been if he comes home late, etc. (if Zack’s aforementioned brothers and cousins were to find out how much I am UNLIKE a good Zambian wife, they might just change their minds). She is also not allowed to refuse sex. There are many other things that go on in these trainings, but I don’t want to spend all afternoon on one bullet point.
*** And then there’s meeting the in-laws. When I meet the relatives, I’m supposed to kneel in greeting. I have yet to do it, as I have issues with the whole idea, but apparently this is common. There are other customs used to show respect, including curtsying, clapping, and rolling around on the ground (in extreme cases) as well. My favorite tho, is how to meet the parents: when I meet his mother, I’m not allowed to speak to her until she gives me money. And when I meet his dad, I’m not allowed to speak to him until I bear the first son. Ummm…yeah. I met his mom about a month ago; fortunately they’re not very traditional, so we dispensed with the money thing and she talked to me anyway. I still haven’t met his dad, but I can tell you that if they’re planning to wait for a kiddie, we won’t be conversing for a good long while.
Those are just a few examples for you, all meant to give you just a little snippet of what I’m encountering here. I have serious issues with some of the traditions, but I have to respect that they are their traditions, and that I am only a visitor here, so it’s really not my place to pass judgment.
As for the people I’ve met, most have been very nice. People greet you with a smile most everywhere you go. Despite the poverty and hardships that these people face on a daily basis, they are very friendly and kind-this impresses me because I think I’d be pretty bitter if I had seen myself and my people get nothing but poorer and sicker over the last 30 years.
As one might figure, HIV/AIDS is a massive problem here. Right now, in Zambia, the average life span is 32 years old, largely because of the virus. Current estimates predict that 20% of the population is HIV positive. That’s pretty crazy considering the majority of the population is less than 15 years old. From what I’ve heard, Zambia also has the highest rate of new infections anywhere in the world. While there is a lot of good information available to the public about HIV/AIDS, there is just as much (if not more) misinformation. For example, many men are told that circumcised men cannot get the virus. Also, there is still a large stigma associated with the disease, so many people choose either not to get tested or not to tell people if they are positive. Overall, the situation is very bleak.
Many people in the West wonder why people here just don’t wear condoms to prevent the spread of the disease. There are several reasons for this, one of which is money. Unlike Westerners (I think the average American married couple has sex 2x a week), the average Zambian married couple has sex 3 times A NIGHT. That’s 21 condoms a week and about 80 a month. How can a couple who makes $50 a month afford to buy 80 condoms when they have to feed themselves and their families?? Yes, at times organizations provide free condoms. But can they really afford to provide 900+ condoms to each couple per year?? It’s just not feasible. Also, if a married person has been unfaithful (and thus contracted the disease), and he/she returns to the marriage insisting on using a condom, it is an obvious indication to the other partner that that person has strayed. And the list goes on. There are other suggested solutions, but so far, none has any realistic chance of working.
Additionally, treatment of the disease is difficult. While ARV (anti-retroviral) drugs are available, they are too expensive for a majority of the population. Yes, $8 a month doesn’t seem like a lot of money to us, but again, when you’re only making $25 a month, there’s no way you can afford the medication. Also, there is a shortage of drugs, so while you may start ARVs one month, the next month there will be none left, or there will be a different drug available. This is dangerous, as it creates drug-resistant strains of the virus.
Next topic; let’s go for something a bit more upbeat. Hmmm…how about my life here?? Surprisingly, my life is extremely mundane (something I find ironic considering I’m living in such an exotic place). My days are filled with volunteering, going to the gym, cooking, and grocery shopping. Seriously. I’ve been out in the evening maybe THREE times in the last two months, mainly because it’s not socially acceptable for women (other than prostitutes) to go to any of the bars/clubs here. So any female friends I might make probably won’t go out. I understand this is somewhat different in Lusaka (the capital), but things are a bit more conservative here (unfortunately for me).
Also, the foreign scene here is pretty made up of the Afrikaner population (Zambian born whites) and missionaries. Both groups know each other, but don’t tend to mix much. Being American, I have somewhat more in common with the missionaries (many of them are also American). This has been pretty interesting considering I’m used to China, which is pretty much a spiritual vacuum, so religion isn’t a big deal for a large number of people. Also, since I’m not particularly religious, being surrounded by people whose lives are dictated by Jesus is a bit of a change. Additionally, there aren’t a lot of young people (most of the missionaries are older and have families), which makes me feel a bit isolated at times. I have made a couple of pretty good friends, tho, so for the most part I’m ok. That, and Zack and I spend most all of his time out of work together.
As I mentioned in my email, I’m working 3x a week volunteering at a Canadian-run children’s home. If you want more information, the website is: http://www.seedsofhopecm.com/ . The people who founded the home have a pretty amazing story. They opened their first home in Thailand about 10 years ago, and have since opened 2 homes in Burma, 1 in Mexico, 1 in Zambia (obviously), and are working to open one in El Salvador. All of the 42 children in the home here are supported by individual sponsors; they get funding for the facilities from other donations and support from non-profit orgs. If you’re interested in helping out, there are several kids I’m working with who need sponsors (they just recently arrived at the home). 93% of the money goes to the kids (the rest is for admin fees-not very much compared with many organizations). The money goes for food, medicine, school fees, etc. They range in age from 4 months to 16 years; 26 of the 42 are HIV+, 19 of those are on ARVs. 24 of the 26 contracted the virus thru mother to child transmission; the other two contracted it from sexual abuse. These kids, through no fault of their own, have to live with this illness for their entire lives. It’s very sad (when I think about it too much, it really gets me down), but they are very fortunate to have enough food and medicine. Anyway, they are great kids, and I encourage you to help if you are interested (If you are, please use the email address found on the website above and email them (seedsofhope@telus.net), telling that you are my friend/family and would like to sponsor a child. I have already spoken to them about this; they will be able to organize everything for you.)
The other children’s home I work at is a pretty sad place. It’s actually an adoption home, so fortunately some kids don’t end up there forever, but for those who do, it’s depressing. The home is funded by the Zambian government, and thus, is seriously understaffed. (Gov’t infrastructure is both weak and corrupt, leaving very little money for places like this) As a result, the 10 kids there spend most of their time in their cribs. Within the home, they have very few toys, almost no supplies for the kids, and often not enough food. However, in the front yard, they have a locked semi trailer that is full of toys, clothes, and all sorts of other goodies. Why don’t they give the items to the kids, you may ask?? Well, the poorer they appear to be, the more help they will get from private and community donations. As a result, whenever they get donations, they squirrel them away in the trailer so they can get more. It’s really horrible. This is one of the reasons that I mention the Canadian home as a good place to donate money, as one can be sure that one’s donation is actually helping the kids rather than being siphoned off in a typically corrupt government scheme. As for the kids at this home, they are also very cute. However, I can definitely see the difference in development levels between these children and those at the other home. You can see the maltreatment just by watching them-one little girl (age 2) likes nothing more than banging her head against the wall. Because they do not have enough plastic pants to put over diapers (although there are plenty in the trailer), urine often leaks on to the floor. I have seen a couple of the kids drink it, as they are denied water for hours at a time. It’s HORRIBLE. And there are many other things along those lines. My sanity only allows that I go there for a few hours a week.
Let’s see what else there is of interest…again, something a little more upbeat. Let’s try food. Zambian food is definitely nothing to write home about (which is why I’m doing so). The staple dish is Nshima, which is basically plain polenta-it tastes like absolutely nothing (you can guess how much I love it). All the accompaniments (meat, veggies, beans, etc.) are called ‘relish’, which confused me at the beginning, as I kept thinking it meant pickle relish like we have at home. They cook everything to death, so meat (beef and pork especially) ends up pretty tough. Everything is cooked with tomatoes and onions, so most everything seems to taste the same. As a result, Zambian food is not high on my list, and I haven’t learned to cook any of it (am not excited to learn, either, as I will be expected to cook for the family whenever they demand it-and did I mention that traditionally, they can appear at any hour of the day or night and demand that I make them food-now at least I have an excuse). I have, however, decided to learn to cook Indian food (Ndola has the highest concentration of Gujaratis outside of Gujarat, so ingredients are readily available). And the produce here is fantastic-especially tropical fruits-they have avocados here the same size as a small child’s head that only cost about ten cents!! Thus, my goal has become to eat so much avocado that I’m thoroughly sick of it by the time I leave and never have to spend $3 on a puny American avocado again. Haha, we’ll see if it actually happens.
Fashion here is also interesting. Styles border on EXTREMELY conservative. Ok, so extremely conservative in terms of the A, but in terms of the T it’s pretty much a free-for-all. Breasts aren’t considered sexual, so if there is a nursing child about, they tend to come out at most any time. As far as the A is concerned, knees are considered sexual, so you can just imagine what happens if people see your thighs, let alone your ASS. Even a glimpse of your back between your pants and shirt should be reserved only for your husband. And there’s definitely no midriff exposure going on. As far as traditional fashion is concerned, they have loads of beautiful fabrics that they make into all sorts of interesting dresses with poofy shoulders a-la a football linebacker (or 80’s shoulderpads). Women rarely wear pants, but usually wear a sarong-like thing called a chitenge. Men dress pretty normally.
The weather here is definitely nothing to complain about. I can’t really vouch for the entire year, but thus far it has been fabulous. It’s been in the 80’s pretty much every day; there have been sporadic thundershowers that make everything feel clean and fresh. At this time of year (the rainy season), everything is very green and there are gorgeous flowers everywhere. For now it’s great, but I’ve heard that it actually gets pretty cold in the winter, esp in the evenings. No one has heaters here, either, so I hear it’s a pretty cold dash to your hot morning shower (did I mention that we don’t actually have a shower, only a bathtub with hot/cold opposing nozzles?? Oh, and that the hot water heater doesn’t actually work, so we have to heat water on the stove when we want to bathe?? It’s fabulous, let me tell you.).
One last funny little tidbit: a lot of people here get satellite TV and they are obsessed, I mean OBSESSED with the American soap opera Passions. It’s kind of a trip.
And it’s about time to wrap this all up. I hope you got a little better idea of what it’s like here and what my life is like. It’s a very different and amazing place. I feel very fortunate to be here-it’s definitely life changing. I also want to encourage any/all of you to come visit. I have seen so many incredible things. Although I haven’t really talked about it, Zambia has a ton to offer-Victoria Falls (which is over 2x the size of Niagara) and a huge variety of wildlife just to name a couple-and in my opinion, is an amazing experience if you visit one week or one year. I welcome you to come while I’m here.
Please email me with your questions, comments, etc. I will be continuing to update this (hopefully with greater regularity) as time passes, and will either try to email you back with answers or will put them up in my journal.
Take care,
Em.