Here is my “Close of Service” report. If you want to skip all of this, then the regular blog continues afterward.



Close of Service Report

Introduction

Ms. Pavlik arrived in Zambia in January 2007. After two months of training, she served for two years as a Rural Education Development (RED) volunteer in Mpelembe, Serenje District, Central Province. The RED project is a countrywide collaboration between Peace Corps and Zambia’s Ministry of Education and aims to improve Zambia’s educational system. Each RED volunteer is based at a Zone Center School, which is a school chosen to be a central point for schools in a particular area. It is the goal of the RED project to increase the capacity of this school so that all of the schools in the zone may benefit, particularly the “community schools,” which are headed by untrained community members and usually based in simple mud and thatch structures.

The first two months of Carrie’s time in Zambia was spent integrating into Zambian culture by living with a Zambian host family and receiving formal training in areas that would prepare her for her service. Training consisted of five components: Technical (86 hours): Ministry of Education structure and initiatives, facilitation skills, Interactive Radio Technology methodology, income generating activities, project implementation; Cross Cultural (14 hours): Zambian culture, cross-cultural communication, gender issues; Icibemba Language (116 hours); HIV/AIDS (20 hours); Medical and Safety (32 hours). During her service, she attended additional workshops, including an in-service training held by Peace Corps, an HIV workshop held by PEPFAR, and a library management training held by Changes2.

Demographics

Mpelembe is a small rural village within Chief Chitambo’s chiefdom. The population consists of about 4000 people and the village covers an area of about 20 square kilometers. There is a school, clinic, ZAWA station, and many tuck shops, bars, and churches.

Mpelembe is about 140 kilometers from the boma of Serenje. There is no electricity or cell phone coverage, which made communication with Peace Corps and the Ministry of Education difficult. Ms. Pavlik’s main form of transportation was her bicycle. When traveling longer distances, she hitchhiked, chancing rides from trucks, busses, and private vehicles.

The villagers of Mpelembe live simply in mud and thatch huts without electricity, vehicles, phone coverage, or running water. Ms. Pavlik lived in the same manner, embracing the lifestyle by learning gardening, the cooking traditional foods, chicken and goat husbandry, beekeeping, and the building small structures of bamboo, grass, mud, and bark fiber.

Her house was located about four kilometers from the tarmac and a half kilometer away from the school and clinic. She lived next to the Mumba family and also received support from the headman, Mr. Mwelelwa.

Physical Environment

Mpelembe is located about forty kilometers after Kasanka National Park and about forty kilometers before the bridge to Luapula. It is flat with a lot of small trees and is considered part of the Bangweulu Wetlands, and though it receives a lot of rainfall, it is not a swampy area. Flooding only becomes an issue in the areas surrounding the nearby Lumbwa River.

The main path that leads from the tarmac past the school and clinic is vehicle accessible. Most housing compounds are reached by footpaths branching off this main road.

Access to drinking water isn’t much of a problem in the area. There are many wells and bore holes. Ms. Pavlik had two sources of water. One was a traditional well located on her compound. The water was not clean, however, so she used this water only for washing and watering her garden. She got her drinking water from a bore hole at the school and carried it home on her bicycle.

The environment didn’t pose any obstacles to education beyond those found in the rest of Zambia (e.g. rainy season, dirt paths, long distances for students to walk, etc). Mpelembe Zone covers a large area, however, the furthest schools being about 30 kilometers from the Zonal Center School. This made it difficult for the ZIC to monitor all of the schools in the zone.

Cultural Environment

The people of Mpelembe are of the Bemba and Lala tribes. Some people can speak a little bit of English, but most are not fluent.

Nearly all villagers are subsistence farmers and fishermen. Some earn income by selling crops or fish or by doing piece work.

Most people are of Christian faith and are very devout. There are a variety of denominations represented in Mpelembe.

Social life tends to revolve around the churches and bars. People often gather at the roadside in the evenings.

Description of Zone

Carrie’s cacthment area consisted of Mpelembe Zone, as defined by the Ministry of Education. There are 5 GRZ and 16 community schools in the zone, the farthest being about 30 kilometers from the Zonal Center School.

During her two years as a RED volunteer, Carrie focused on strengthening the Zonal Center School so that all of the schools in the zone would benefit. That means she worked extensively with Mpelembe Basic School, but also worked with teachers from all of the schools in the zone through teacher trainings and school monitoring. She also assisted Chenga, Fumba, and Mupundu Community Schools in grant writing and held a fish farming training at Fumba.

Most of the community schools and government schools are using Interactive Radio Instruction (IRI) as part of their methodology. For some community schools, this is the main form of instruction.

The schools in Mpelembe Zone are as follows:

GRZ Schools

Chalilo
Chipundu
Gibson
Misumba
Mpelembe

Community Schools

Chititima (Grades 1-5)
Chenga (Grades 1-3)
David Livingstone (Grades 1-2)
Fumba (Grades 1-2)
Ibolelo (Grade 1)
Ilisa (Grades 1-3)
Kachelo (Grades 1-2)
Kakuku
Kalungu (Grades 1-4)
Kampasa (Grades 1-4)
Kaoma (Grades 1-2)
Kapepa (Grades 1-4)
Luwe (Grades 1-3)
Misamfi (Grades 1-3)
Mupundu (Grades 1-2)
Musangashi (Grades 1-6)

RED Project Activities

• Capacity Building of Zone Center School

Carrie’s main counterparts were the Zonal Head, Mr. Chisenga, the ZIC, Mr. Kaseloki, and the Deputy Head, Ms. Chisenga. She also worked extensively with the group of six teachers who formed the library committee.

In her two years, she was able to transfer a variety of skills to her counterparts. She held workshops in library management and computer operation. Record keeping, time management, and organization were always stressed.

• Capacity Building of Zone

Carrie and her counterparts worked together to strengthen the zone. One of the main ways this was done was through teacher trainings. Every school, including community schools (and occasionally including schools from neighboring zones), was always invited to all workshops and trainings.

In all zonal workshops, Ms. Pavlik and her counterparts stressed communication skills, classroom management, planning, and school management. They also focused on the use of child-centered teaching methods such as games, student involvement techniques, positive reinforcement, and the use of teaching and learning aides.

Support was also given to schools through monitoring visits. When Carrie first arrived in Mpelembe, there was no one performing the role of the ZIC, and therefore it had been a long time since formal SIMON monitoring visits had been done. It was several months before a ZIC was transferred to the school. Mr. Kaseloki and Ms. Pavlik worked together to plan SIMON visits and visit schools. After monitoring the nearby schools, however, SIMON activities stopped, as the ZIC considered it too far to bike to the remaining schools, which were about 30 kilometers away. A request for a vehicle was made to the DEBS, but was never fulfilled. Recently, monitoring of several of the nearby schools has been taken up again.

Carrie believes in the importance of alternative education and gathered resources for a zonal library, which could be accessed by all teachers in the zone, students, and villagers. Over 1,000 books were donated, classified, labeled, and recorded. A library committee was formed and trained in library management. Unfortunately, the Zonal Resource Center infrastructure has yet to be officially handed over and furnished, so the library is not in use. The library committee has been trained with the appropriate skills, however, so when the building is complete, the library should be able to function.

Ms. Pavlik made sure all the schools in the zone were aware of her presence and encouraged them to contact her if they needed assistance. Unfortunately, only a few took advantage of this opportunity.

• Capacity Building of DEBS

Peace Corps’ RED project focuses on the zonal level for rural volunteers. Therefore, Carrie rarely worked directly with the DEBS office. She did, however, assist in procuring IRI radios for community schools and she submitted reports from monitoring visits.

• Capacity Building at the Provincial Level and of Partners

Ms. Pavlik and two other Peace Corps volunteers held an IRI Review Meeting for Ministry of Education officials to discuss issues with the program, as well as challenges facing the ZICs.

Carrie also worked with the NGO Changes2. She attended a library training of trainers and then helped facilitate a provincial library training for ZICs. She also monitored schools who received books as a donation from Changes2.

• Summary of RED Projects

• Initiated the formation of a library at the Zone Center School
---- Acquired the donation of over 1,000 textbooks, novels, reference
materials, and magazines
---- Classified, labeled, and recorded all materials
---- Set up a lending and record system
---- Trained a library committee in book classification and library
management
• Worked with teachers at the Zone Center School in planning, budgeting for, and facilitating 5 teacher trainings, reaching 67 Community School and 21 Government School teachers
• Taught basic computer skills (using solar panels) to 6 teachers
• Monitored 5 Community School and 2 Basic School classrooms over the course of 12 visits to observe and advise in teaching skills and school management
• Compiled information on all of the schools in the zone
• Assisted 4 schools with grant proposal writing
• Collaborated with the NGO Changes2 and the Ministry of Education to carry out a provincial library training and monitor 3 school libraries
• Co-facilitated a review meeting with the Ministry of Education to discuss the progress of the Interactive Radio Instruction program and the role of the Zonal Inset Coordinator

HIV/AIDS

Carrie and the Zonal Head attended a Peace Corps PEPFAR training together. Both agreed on the importance of spreading what they had learned to others. The Zonal Head arranged for Mpelembe’s “Community AIDS Task Force” (CATF) to be trained. Carrie then invited a CATF member to teach about HIV during a meeting about Jatropha.

Staff at the school have been very open to HIV education. During each of the eight teacher trainings and meetings with which Carrie assisted, a session was devoted to HIV prevention.

Ms. Pavlik also taught about HIV at a fish farming training, to students in her Life Skills class, during a girls camp, and in numerous informal conversations.

A total of around 450 teachers, students, community members were reached.

Other Projects

• Taught “Life Skills” classes to 4 groups of 8th and 9th graders, covering topics such as communication skills, HIV, STIs, culture, planting trees, gender equality, treatment of animals, organic gardening, relationships, indigenous crops, overpopulation, and nutrition
• Taught HIV prevention at 8 teacher meetings, 2 agricultural meetings, 1 girls’ camp, and 9 Life Skills classes
• Started a school orchard and tree planting project with students
• Demonstrated the building of a fuel efficient clay stove and teaching the importance of tree conservation to villagers
• Started a sustainable beekeeping club with 15 students and set up a school apiary
• Worked with a bio-fuel organization to distribute Jatropha seeds to villagers as an income generating activity
• Collaborated with two other Peace Corps Volunteers to organize a “Girls Leading Our World” camp, where girls learned about setting goals, having confidence, forming healthy relationships, being assertive, and preventing HIV
---- Sourced funding and purchased supplies
---- Arranged guest speaker
---- Taught about HIV prevention
---- Demonstrated the sewing of sanitary pads
• Helped village children with math and spelling
• Assisted the Rural Health Clinic with grant writing, HIV testing, baby weighing, and the donation of medical supplies
• Hosted a fish farming workshop at a Community School

Contributions to Peace Corps Zambia

• Facilitated a session on chicken husbandry at an agricultural in-service training
• Hosted two groups of new volunteers to introduce them to village life
• Assisted with site preparation for new volunteers

Recommendations

Ms. Pavlik’s main project was the formation of a zonal library. By the time her service finished, however, the library was not yet in use because of bureaucratic obstacles. It would be beneficial for another Peace Corps Volunteer to finish the work and make sure the library is being used.

That said, Mpelembe has been a challenging place for Carrie. She wanted to reach out to community members beyond just the school, but she had trouble finding people who were genuinely interested in working with her. Most only wanted funding or handouts and then would disappear as soon as they find out Peace Corps does not provide such things. Even more claimed that they were interested in a given topic, but then didn’t show up the day of the meeting. Five times as many projects as were listed on this report were started and then failed because of lack of motivation in the school or community.

Ms. Pavlik’s living situation was a difficult one as well. The community did not follow through with Peace Corps’ housing contract and would only help her with home upkeep if she paid them. She also experienced problems with her neighbors (begging, dishonesty, etc), had an incident with a man trying to come to her house at night, and had continuous theft her entire two year service.

Because of security issues, the community was told to arrange different housing for the volunteer to come following Carrie. They were not able to finish the housing preparations in time, however, so Peace Corps has decided not to replace Mpelembe in 2009. However, the possibility of another volunteer coming in the future is open. If the Zonal Head and DEBS feel another volunteer would benefit the school, they would need to make the initiative to contact Peace Corps with the request.




Regular Blog Continuation:

And now for some final thoughts as my Peace Corps service comes to an end.

I remember when I first moved to Mpelembe, I thought to myself, “Wow, when I leave, these kids are going to be two years older!!! Teenagers will have turned into adults. Kids will have turned into teenagers. Babies will have turned into kids.” But as I look now at Kalunga, Joshua, Makumba, Ngosa, Patty, Bupe, and all the other village kids, they don’t look any different because I’ve seen them slowly grow every day and it’s hard to believe that my two years have gone by already.

Back during Pre-Service Training, one of our trainers was about to finish up her service. When asked for wise words, she told us, “I’ve never loved a place so much … and I’ve never hated a place so much.” She was at a loss of words to explain herself and finally we just broke the silence by laughing. Now, as my service coming to an end, if a new volunteer were to ask me to summarize my past two years, I couldn’t think of any other way to say it. When I only think of the good aspects of Zambia, it makes me want to never leave. When I only think of the bad aspects of Zambia, it makes me never want to step foot in this country again.

So yes, there are some things I’ll be glad to leave behind. I’m tired of swatting away flies and ants. I’m tired of water sloshing down my back as I bike it home. I’m tired of the scorching sun. I’m tired of waiting hours trying to hitch a ride. I’m tired of dealing with cultural things that I just can’t accept – gender inequality, hierarchy, the cruel treatment of animals, and different concepts of time, privacy, and property. I’m tired of feeling frustrated and insulted by people not coming to my meetings or only wanting handouts. I’m tired of roosters. I’m tired of having no privacy in my own home – having to answer to somebody no matter what I’m doing (reading, working, bathing, eating, peeing.) I’m tired of minibus conductors, who I’m convinced are the worst people in the world. I’m tired of having to plan my days around avoiding sunburn and my evenings around avoiding malaria. I’m tired of poorly washing and wringing out my clothes by hand. I'm tired of eating weevils with my oats. I’m tired of buckling under the weight of my basket of vegetables when I stock up every month. I’m tired of kids mocking me and thinking I don’t understand. I’m tired of infected wounds. I’m tired of itchy bug-bites. Most of all, I’m tired of feeling sad and angry because of people doing things that I consider to be inconsiderate, disrespectful, and irresponsible - lying to me, cheating me, inconveniencing me, robbing me, and taking advantage of me.

And there are things I look forward to in the US. Mostly, seeing my family and friends who I haven’t seen for two years, seeing Doug who I haven’t seen for nine months, and seeing my nephew who I’ve never even met! I look forward to getting started on whatever adventures lay ahead. I look forward to stepping foot back in to my dear Hotel again. I look forward to the variety of creative expression and entertainment US culture has to offer. I look forward to the ease of a hot shower. I look forward to letting my knees see the light of day again. I look forward to not having to hold my plate in my lap as I eat. (Even the Peace Corps House doesn’t provide such a luxury as a dining table!). I look forward to rediscovering all of my forgotten music I had to leave at home. And believe it or not, I actually look forward to that overcast Pennsylvania sky!!

So while part of me is happy to be returning home, I can’t say that I’m “happy” that my life in Zambia is ending. Despite the frustrations, I really do love my way of life here and feel very content. I live naturally, slowly, quietly, purposefully, leisurely, physically, and introspectively. This is the longest I’ve stayed put in any one spot since 2002, and it certainly has become my home. It’s my life. It’s my reality. It’s nearly impossible to imagine not waking up in my hut each morning. Suddenly, nearly everything about my life will become non-existent - my thoughts, actions, frame of mind, motivations, and daily activities. I don’t look forward to the emotional rollercoaster of readjusting to a “new” place. I don’t look forward to having to find some meaningless job to make some money. I don’t look forward to trying to find a job during The Great Depression Part II. I don’t look forward to being in stressful social situations rather than just relaxing alone in my hut. And I don’t look forward to feeling chilled to the bone and having no feeling in my hands and feet for three-quarters of the year.

I’ll also will miss my friends in the village – mainly, Mr. Chisenga, Joshua, and Kapiria. I’ll miss my hut. I’ll miss my remaining chicken and goat. I’ll miss the cheap price of vegetables. I’ll miss the tropical fruits, some of which I will never taste again. I’ll miss having hours of time to read, write, think, and lay in my hammock. I’ll miss having my “commute” to work be a bike ride through the bush. I’ll miss the slow-paced way of life. I’ll miss the crisp night sky full of stars. I’ll miss cooking over a fire. (I’ve noticed that my morning oats and tea that come off of the stove at the Peace Corps House just aren’t as satisfying.) I’ll miss living in my own sociological experiment, where I can create jumbled theories about culture and humanity. I’ll miss not having to worry about money, a job, rent, or bills. I’ll miss not even being tempted to waste my time away on Facebook or watching TV. I’ll miss my solo independent life. I’ll miss the light filtering through my “stained-glass” citenge windows as I wake each morning. I’ll miss bathing outside (when it’s not cold and windy.) I’ll miss my long conversations with Mr. Chisenga. I’ll miss living in nature, rather than concrete. I’ll miss the sound of silence, of the wind, of birds, and of women pounding cassava in the distance, rather than cars and trucks. I'll miss living a life of total freedom. I’ll miss the thrill of finally catching that ride. I’ll miss seeing my yard illuminated by moonlight. I’ll miss getting letters from family and friends. I’ll miss my transient lifestyle which gives me a monthly rejuvenation. I’ll miss nshima, icikanda, ifisashi, and roasted tute. I’ll miss the times when I feel that burst of success when a meeting, computer class, teacher training, or Life Skills class goes well. I’ll miss being able to make funny jokes by simply saying something vaguely clever in Bemba. I’ll miss eating a diet of ninety percent mangos for a month each year. I’ll miss having people run up to the car window to sell me bananas. I’ll miss the smell of ulushishi, drying cassava, and eucalyptus trees. I’ll miss being known and sought out in my community – a local celebrity. I’ll miss the friendly people. I’ll miss reading by candlelight in the evenings. I’ll miss very much the ease of conversation with everyone, including strangers. I’ll miss the kids running and screaming to greet me. I’ll miss playing nsolo and icibulia with Joshua. I’ll miss living in a place where words like “Lindsay Lohan,” “iphone,” “Dow Jones,” and “Burger King” mean nothing.

Back in the year and a half between when I applied to Peace Corps and when I finally left for Zambia, so many people I met told me, “Oh, I thought about doing the Peace Corps, but never did…” I’m glad that I will never have to say that statement. Peace Corps is not studying abroad. Peace Corps is not working for an NGO. Peace Corps is not going on a short volunteer/mission trip. Peace Corps is not becoming an expat in a big city abroad. Peace Corps is not backpacking or traveling. Peace Corps is actually becoming a community member in one small place that’s off the map, untouched, real. Not very many people have (or take) the opportunity to live in a rural village in a developing country. I’m so glad I have been able to be one of those people.

And I’m also so glad that my Peace Corps service was in Zambia specifically – where Peace Corps is still the rustic bush experience that it was in the beginning. In many countries today, Peace Corps Volunteers live together in an apartment with electricity, and teach English every day. While that might be “fun,” it’s not the experience I signed up for.

After my time in Jamaica, it took me some time and some hindsight to realize just what I had gained from the experience. But even now, as I still sit here in Zambia and type this, I already know that Zambia has had an everlasting impact on my life. Perhaps Kingston showed me how things can go wrong; and Mpelembe showed me how things can go right.

We join Peace Corps because we want to “help” others, but in the end, it’s always the volunteer who benefits the most. I am indebted to my Peace Corps Zambian service for all the things I have learned. I am leaving Zambia a different person than I came. I’m now an organic farmer. A chicken husbander. A beekeeper. An avid reader. A goat husbander. A professional hammock-layer. A long-distance cycler. A forester. An animal house constructer. A flat-tire mechanic. A Bemba. A chef. A teacher. A librarian. A teacher trainer. A hitch-hiker. A craftsman. A shoe-in for “Survivor.” I am a person ready and excited to see what life has to offer next.

Capwa. (It is over.)

Well, I was offered an extension position in Lusaka, so it looks like I’ll be in Zambia another two years!!!! April Fools. Don’t worry, I’m coming home.

It’s the time of the season for changing:

• Guava Season. Guavas have replaced the mangos in my oats. I’m not feasting on them, however, as I did with the mangos, as I don’t have any trees of my own and have to resort to buying them. At about forty for 25 cents, I can’t go overboard. (Joke.) Guavas are a strange fruit. Unripe (how Zambians eat them), they’re no good. Ripe, the inside tastes a little fermented and the outside tastes green. They’re full of small seeds that will break your teeth, and they’re not even very flavorful. I bet most Americans wouldn’t even bother with them. I like em, though.
  
  The bush-rat-squirrels like them too. I have to pack up my guavas and tomatoes into a bucket every evening or else my little friends will take a single nibble out of each and every one.
  
  
• Flying Termite Season. Kids like to collect them and pop them straight into their mouths. After being here two years, I didn’t think I would see anything new, but this was something.
  
  
• Groundnut Harvesting Season. Men do the hoeing and women do the picking. The picking is the fun part, so I don’t really complain about gender roles when I help out!
  
  
• Planting Season. People keep coming by to show me the wounds they’ve procured from whacking their feet with their hoes. I don’t remember this happening the past two planting seasons.
  
  
• End of Rainy Season. Each time it rains, someone tells me, “Ah, but that is the rain saying goodbye!” But then the next day, it rains again and I am told the same thing again.

My tomato plant has 75 tomatoes and counting!!!

First my radio’s knob broke off, so I had to adjust the station by maneuvering a little string inside. Then the wires detached from the speaker, so every morning I have to rewire the thing. I feel like a mechanical genius!!

I didn’t spell “genius” right in the above paragraph and spell-check corrected me.

I’m not sure how my house exists anymore, because I feel like I’ve swept out the mass of my house several times over.

Apparently Ngosa is in the juju (witchcraft) business. I found her in the bush one day with a basket of small roots and asked her what they were. She said she sells them to a man from Lusaka who uses them for juju. I couldn’t get out of her what the exact use was, but she let me nibble on one. It was kind of sweet.

Whenever someone is sick or dies, it’s always because of juju. If you want to know who put the juju on your late loved one, a group of people can hold the coffin in the air and it will lead them to the culprit.

It was interesting doing a little blacksmithing with Peter, but I wanted to see it down with a traditional bellows, so I found a guy in my village who agreed to let me observe him work. After he didn’t show up (at his own house), we rescheduled several times and again he didn’t show up. So frustrating.

I was finally successful in recruiting a charcoal teacher, however - a teenager named Kunda. (Actually, after lamenting to Mr. Chisenga about people not helping me, he forced a student to show me.) We spent all day in the bush. I was really surprised what a long hard process it is. Luckily, I was just on fire that day when it came to comic relief. First, I jotted down notes about the charcoal making process. That was very funny. Then I singed off some of my hair. That was very funny. Then I had trouble carrying a huge log. That was very funny. Then I had trouble carrying another huge log. That was still very funny. Then I got lost and started walking the wrong direction. That was very funny too.

On our way out of the bush, suddenly Kunda stopped and squatted to the ground. He pointed to a track in the mud and looking up at me with eyes wide, solemnly said, “Elephant!” This track was about the size of my big thumbnail. I burst out laughing and noted to myself that this was the funniest joke I’ve ever heard a Zambian make. Until I looked back into his deadpan face and realized he was serious. I tried to reason with him that that track couldn’t possibly be from an elephant. Finally I had him describe the beast to me. He said it was “like a small goat.” It was probably a duiker - a miniature antelope. I still giggle every time I recall the image of his face saying “Elephant!”, but really, it’s quite sad that an African doesn’t even know what an elephant is.

Joshua asked me what I’m doing with my bookbag when I leave, as he wanted it for school. I had to tell him I was taking it with me, but in its place, I sewed a little school-bag for each of the school-goers: Joshua, Ngosa, and Makumba. They said thank you and are using them, but their disappointment was obvious. Turns out it wasn’t about having a school-bag after all, but about having an expensive muzungu bag. It’s interesting how in an industrialized country like the United States, people have already gone through that “sterile-manufactured-plastic-uniform stuff is better” stage a long time ago and now some people even appreciate whole grain bread over white bread, real food over processed food, hand-made items over mass-produced items, and so on. But in Zambia, this process is just beginning. Refined white mealie meal is prestigious. Tin roofs are prestigious. Manufactured snacks are prestigious. Plastics are prestigious. Any little piece of junk that’s been made by a factory (e.g. food packaging, broken electronic parts, etc) is prestigious and is horded, even if it has no use. City Zambians are especially adamant about pointing out how they are more advanced than the village folk, but even the villagers would rather a mass-produced product than a hand-made one if they had the choice. To someone who feels like industrialized countries made a huge mistake by ever going down this road, it’s frustrating to see “developing” countries want to do the same. I want to just tell them to skip that step; they’re already where they need to be! But I guess that’d be like an adult telling a teenager what to do, which has absolutely no effect at all. It seems like they just have to experience it themselves before they can decide to refuse it. I hope by then it’s not too late.

Living in kind of a time warp like this, I’ve recently been noticing a lot of idioms that I’ve never really thought about before, but now have literal meanings for me. For instance, as I was cracking nuts one day, I was having trouble with one and said, “Boy, that was hard nut to crack!” Then I paused: Did I really just say that?? Some other examples: “Hoe down,” “Steal my fire,” “An uphill struggle,” “You reap what you sow,” “Fruits of my labor,” “Beggars can’t be choosers” (although if it’s the Mumbas, they damn well will be choosers too), “Empty nest,” “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” “Pecking order,” “Cocky,” and what’s been happening all too much lately, “Pouring salt in my wounds.”

When I first came to Zambia, I often would feel shocked or insulted when people would say racially blunt statements. But after awhile, I came to realize that because race isn’t an issue here, it’s ok to make blunt statements about being “black” or “white.” It just doesn’t have the same historically-guilty connotation, so Zambians don’t walk around pretending that different skin colors don’t exist.

I decided to donate my hive (and bees!) to the school and started up a beekeeping club. All the kids in the club had been traditional honey-gatherers, which means destroying the hive to get the honey. (This is like cutting down a mango tree to get the mangos!) So I taught them all about sustainable beekeeping and we set up the apiary, complete with newly planted flowers.

I’m still very busy doing Life Skills, computer classes, library meetings, and monitoring. This isn’t to say that it hasn’t been extremely frustrating. Looking back at my records, I noticed that people have not come to computer lessons more times than they have come. And we only managed to monitor three schools this term, because usually the ZIC just couldn’t get it together the day of the planned monitoring. Of those three, we didn’t find any teaching going on at two of them because the teachers were busy in the fields.

I’ve noticed that my life in Zambia is never just mildly-constantly-stressful-and-mundane as I remember life in the US. Instead, it’s one extreme or the other. Most of the time, I am very content - extremely calm and peaceful. Then there’s drastic spikes of tumultuous emotional stress. For example, my day is perfectly nice and I’m feeling very content and then I have to sit around for two hours waiting for someone to come to a meeting we planned, just getting angrier and angrier each minute until I’m about to explode. Then I go home and enjoy my life again until the next incident the next day.

I never know whether to start my blogs with the negatives to start it out on a bad note, or end them with the negatives, to leave it on a bad note. If you don’t want to end with the negatives, you can go back after you’re done and read the beginning, I suppose!

Otherwise, onto the next bad thing. Along The Great North Road (main paved road), there’s a section with a big pothole trench all the way across the road. Rumor has it that the villagers there hacked it away on purpose so that mealie-meal trucks and beer trucks would flip and they could steal the goods. It’s worked several times already.

And finally, my family here just keeps getting smaller and smaller:

• Eggy disappeared. Stolen, probably.
  
  
• After a week and a half, New Chicken’s neck wound just didn’t seem to be healing and she was losing weight. Upon closer inspection, I found that most of the food she was eating was oozing out of the wound instead of going to her stomach. I had trouble eating for days after seeing this. (And after conjuring up the image again to type this, I probably will have trouble for a few days again.) I didn’t really see how it could heal up, staying moist like that, and I didn’t know if she was in pain or not, so I told the Mumbas to eat her. It was a hard decision, but when I leave, I’m going to have to give her away anyhow and she’ll probably promptly be eaten, so I figured if there’s even a chance that she’s suffering now, I may as well just get it over with. So now it’s just Pocho and me.
  
  
• I sold Potato and Spud to the Mumbas awhile ago in preparation for my departure, but while I was in Serenje last time, Potato apparently died. I have my doubts, however, because only Victor reported the death to me and no one else even mentioned it. I mean, when their dog died, each one of the Mumbas felt it necessary to individually come over and inform me, but when it’s my own goat, they kept silent. My guess is they ate or sold her, because Iron Mumba was away at the time too, so it seems like they waited for us both to leave to make some money behind our backs. Or, she just could have died and Zambia has made me way too untrusting.

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April 29th, 2009

I didn’t tell anyone when I was coming back to the United States (except for Laura who bought my plane ticket and Doug who just was too persistent in questioning) because I wanted to surprise everyone! Sneaky, eh??? I even wrote this blog in present tense instead of past tense! Ha! I had thought about traveling after I was done, possible to India, but I just couldn’t really decide on anything, so I figured I’d just go straight back to the US. Let me now back up and recap my departure from Mpelembe and Zambia.

My last week at site was strange. I was busy packing, giving things away, selling things, and informing everyone I could think of that I would soon be going. I sent goodbye letters to all of my schools and even had a farewell party with teachers, neighbors, and friends. (Not everyone showed up who was supposed to and a lot of people who I didn’t even know filtered in, but it was nice just the same.) It was extremely Zambian, with official protocol, speeches, guest of honor, chairman, etc. There was food, dancing, and music. I wore my citenge dress from swear-in and gave a farewell speech in Bemba. Everyone understood it perfectly and that made me very happy. There was a ton of food (most I donated, the rest the teachers pitched in for) and for several days afterwards, the Mumba kids kept telling me how full they had been – the utmost compliment.

On the morning that I was to leave, the Mumba’s and Mwelelwa’s and some others stuck around my house to see me off. Impashi (swarms of flesh eating ants) attacked, so that provided some good laughs. Trying to remove the bed from my house was also a ridiculous adventure that took an hour or so. Then I spent the rest of the morning in a marathon tournament of nsolo with Joshua.

That morning, someone stole my toilet paper and my hat, which was a fitting ending to it all.

When the land cruiser finally pulled in, I was both glad to have an end to the strange restless feeling and very sad. As I said goodbye to everyone, I started to cry, which I wasn’t expecting. I just kept reshaking everyone’s hand cause I just didn’t know what else to do. Then I got in the cruiser and we pulled out of Mpelembe for the last time.

Even though I knew I had left Mpelembe, it still didn’t seem real to me that I was going back to the United States. Just impossible to even fathom. And once I got to Serenje, I felt fine, because it just seemed like any other time hanging out at the Peace Corps House. I had to close my bank account, say goodbye to the district Ministry of Education people, and finish up typing my Close of Service documents. Then I had to sit around for several more days (I had to come in before the holiday and weekend so I could go to the bank) with no other Peace Corps Volunteers there, which was boring.

Then I headed to Lusaka for a week of medical and administrative appointments. The end of my service was kind of like reverting to the beginning again. I had to ride out to Chongwe in the old bus we used to take. I visited my homestay family and had my last nshima. I saw my old language teacher and all the training staff. I even got to go visit immigration one last time cause I realized my visa was expired and I had been living in Zambia illegally for over a month. Oops.

Exchanging money wasn’t too exciting. When I came to Zambia, the exchange rate was 3,700 and now it’s 5,700. Which means I only get about half of my money! Argh.

After all my meetings and such, I had some time to kill, so I visited this zoo type place. The gardens were beautiful, but the animals were just kinda sad and there wasn’t really much to see.

The Peace Corps Lusaka staff only has three non-Zambians, but even the Zambian employees are city-folk, so it’s not anything like the village. When I dragged my suitcases over to the medical room to weigh and rearrange them, however, the custodian lady stopped me and made me repack because I hadn’t folded my citenges properly. This took 45 minutes or so. It was so very Zambian and made me smile.

These two weeks of limbo in Serenje and Lusaka were kind of a let down. I would have rather just stepped out of the village and onto the plane for the full excitement and emotional impact. It also was difficult because hanging around the office all week reminded me of things about the way of life in the States that I don’t like – pushing papers, stressful social situations, wasting time on the internet, and mostly, living indoors rather than in nature.

On April 16th, I officially “rang out” with my fellow five remaining RED Peace Corps Volunteers. This high-tech ceremony involves hitting a tire hub with a stick. Whenever I’ve witnessed others ringing out over the past two years, I always get a little teary-eyed, so during my own ceremony, I just tried to ignore everything that was going on so I wouldn’t start crying. Here’s a transcript of my speech: “It’s been wonderful and it’s been terrible and I’d do it all again.”

And on April 21st, I went to the airport to board my 40 hour flight back to Americaland!!




Handy Hut How To: How to Make Charcoal

Cut down some trees and cut the trunks into pieces about ax-length. Build a little platform out of the smaller pieces so that it’s not resting directly on the ground. Then pile up your logs, adding support stakes if necessary. Hack up chunks of sod and pack them around the pile until it’s enclosed, except for an opening on one side. Start a fire between the logs through this hole and keep it stoked for several hours. Then cover up the opening with sod as well and leave the pile to cook for several days, checking on it periodically to make sure it hasn’t collapsed. Then remove the dirt with a hoe and dig out the charcoal pieces. Break up any big pieces and spread them out to cool, covering with some light dirt so that they don’t ignite. Only about half of the pieces will have turned into charcoal, so pile the remain unburned logs into a pile again and let it cook again. Once the charcoal is cool, pile it in your mealie meal sack, lace up the end with bark fiber, and sell it for a price that’s not worth all that work!




John, Martha, and bo-bo - I had a dream that I took a footpath in my village that I had never taken before and it led to a huge mining establishment where John and Martha were working. There were all sorts of fancy buildings and cars and I couldn’t believe that I never knew this place existed in Mpelembe! I explored around some more and came upon a huge monastery made out of burgundy marble. They told me Brady had been working on there, but had just left. I felt bad that he had come to Mpelembe and never let me know!

Doug - Jameson Kunda greets you and your family. The Mumba's and Mwelelwa's greet you. Mulenga and Mr. Chisenga asked about you. Kapiria says he never got a remembrance from you. And Kennedy misses you “a lot.”

My Entire Family - Jameson Kunda greets you. You don’t know him, but he greets you.

Stacy - I still haven’t gotten the packet of letters for my students. Now the term is over (they work in trimesters), so I’m not sure that I’ll ever get to use them in my Life Skills class! I told my head teacher about it, though, so he’ll know to distribute them even if I’m not able.

Anyone - I’ve had several villagers request pen-pals. Does anyone want Jameson Kunda as a pen-pal?? And does anyone want to marry a truck-driver?