My work...

     As a first-generation LIFE Volunteer in my community I had a challenging first four months of my service thinking up and developing projects for my community. The LIFE program, which is an acronym for Linking Income and Food with the Environment, is open to several primary and secondary projects and it is up to the individual Volunteer to assess the needs in the community. The Peace Corps does not assign projects, but Peace Corps staff is available for guidance.

     First I met with chiefs, headmen, and members of the community and performed a needs assessment. Since I am a LIFEer I found my community has an interest in growing fruit trees.  


    Agroforestry is the discipline behind the LIFE program and I have been trained to fill the role as forestry extension agent; in other words, I help the Zambian Forestry Department with forestry education and tree planting.

     Along with tree planting projects I work with the school in my community teaching an afterschool geography club, I help at the medical clinic, I tutor children who go or don’t go to school, and I help with HIV awareness.

     It’s now six months into my two year service and I am finding myself very busy. I am lucky. It doesn’t always happen for all Peace Corps Volunteers to stay busy. At least all of us make some kind of positive difference in our communities.

 

Planting my first tree in Mumena Village as the school children watch. I find it important to name the trees because it helps the children feel the tree is more personalized and will increase the chances of the tree to be taken care of. This tree is named the 'Mumena Tree'.

Along with the Mutanda Research Center team grafting lemon root stock to orange scions (orange tree clippings) to produce orange trees. Lemon root stock is drought resistant and grows well in most types of soil. We grafted well over 100 trees which will be distributed to local farmers. This is my first time grafting. If 50% of my trees take, then I am a skilled grafter. The plan is for me to teach the grafting technique to the farmers who acquire the trees so they can continue producing more trees on their own. They can then produce oranges to eat, sell, and sell seedlings which can be sold for 50 kwatcha which is a fabulous income generating activity.

 

Some of the many children who come to my site to read, draw, and learn how to write their names.



My Stay with a Missionary Family...

     I stayed with a family in my village for several days while my roof was being re-thatched. They are missionaries from the States and have lived here for almost seven years. They are a family of six: two girls, two boys, and mom and dad. The mom and I get along fantastically and are taking full advantage of having another American woman to talk with which is a rarity here in this African village.

     We are the minority: eight white people out of 5,000 in this community. There is another missionary who stays nearby who works with this family. All of us interact the way we would in the States: family dinners at the dinner table, watching movies on the DVD player, jumping on the trampoline, and ‘normal’ conversation with the ability to speak English at a normal speed without the accent we use when speaking with the locals and without the worry whether we are being understood or not.

     The Family’s Work…The work of the missionary family and my work as a Peace Corps Volunteer are similar: we help people learn how to help themselves. The only difference I see is spreading the Word of God, which I don’t do because I work for a United States government agency.

   I was able to watch an interesting workshop my friends held at their site. They have a piggery which is maintained the way how people in the bush maintain pigs. Pigs, as opposed to cattle, take up little room and because of their smaller size they are easier to handle. Raising pigs for food adds to the limited variety of protein foods that are available in the village.

      I watched a pig slaughter done the traditional way. Difficult to watch.

     First was the wrangling of the chosen pig. It is not good to wait for the pigs to get too big, or they are too difficult to handle.

     I will save the rest of the details of the actual slaughter from this blog…little too disturbing for those who are uncomfortable learning how animals are killed for food. Some who witness this may say they want to become vegetarians; I didn’t choose this. Instead, I decided for now on I will always eat meat with a new kind of appreciation; this animal gave its life for me to fill my stomach. I will think that way even when eating a McDonald’s hamburger (IF I ever eat one). 

     The villagers in training are learning a skill that can potentially make a big difference in their lives. Their diets will improve and they can earn an extra income.     So, how can pork products generate income in a society that lacks refrigeration?     The missionary family has the solution…sausage. Pork is ground, mixed with preservatives, encased, and then hung to dry for a few weeks. No refrigeration necessary. 

    This sausage is not sold to local villagers; too expensive. Instead it is sold in the cities. This sausage is rich and considered a delicacy. The miners in town are willing and able to spend the extra money for a product that is locally made that they can serve with crackers at their cocktail parties.

Invasion of the Dorylus species and saving kittens… My stay with the missionary family is like that at home in the States. The house they live in has indoor plumbing, and electricity. I stayed in a guest house attached to the main house…I had my own shower with hot water, and flushing toilet. Things I live without at my hut.

    I think it was my third night staying at their house. It was late in the evening, said goodnight to the family and headed to my quarters. When I entered my bathroom I saw a stream of black ants marching from the window to the sink. There were thousands of them.

    I went back to the main house to let my friend know about the ant party going on when she rushed me through the door and shut it abruptly after I entered. She said there is a snake right outside. She got her husband and we found a puff adder coiled in the corner outside the door. Puff adders aren’t deadly, but the bite is painful and can cause swelling. Unfortunately it had to be killed and her husband was successful with this task.

     Snake conquest over, my friend and I both armed with ant killer went into my bathroom and sprayed the trail of ants. We found that they made their way in my bedroom as well. We sprayed everywhere. We agreed I would spend the night in on the couch in the main house.

    These ants are of the Dorylus species. They are also known as impashi, driver ants or siafu. These ants are medium size and can travel in a row of up to 50,000,000 ants. The trails of these ants are easy to avoid, often a person has to jump over an ant trail while walking in the bush. The ants will attack anything living and bite a painful bite with their pincers and NOT let go. They are capable of killing and eating immobile prey.

   I fell asleep on the couch while my friend baked bread for morning’s breakfast. I woke shortly after falling asleep to a discerning discussion between my friend and her husband. I got up to see what was wrong. My friend said the ants are attacking the week-old kittens and their mother. I followed them outside to where the kittens were. The husband tossed the kittens away from the ants, but all six kittens were literally covered with ants. Our first thought was to put the kittens out of their misery…they were crying in such agony and their mother was beside herself while she was also covered with ants.

     My friend and I decided to at least save two kittens. If we pick up the kittens, we assumed the ants would attack us, too, but they didn’t. They continued to latch onto the kittens.

    We rushed them over to the kitchen sink, and held their bodies under the running faucet while we picked each individual ant off the kittens’ little bodies. There must have been well over 50 ants on each of them.

    We were successful pulling all the ants off the two kittens, dried them with towels and placed them with their waiting mother. Immediately they began to nurse.

    We went back outside…luckily the rest of the kittens were still alive. The three of us continued picking off the ants of the rest of the six kittens until they were ant-free. All six kittens were back with their mother nursing away. The mother wasn’t covered with ants like the kittens, but she did have a few latched on the inside of her mouth which we were able to remove.

    I visited my friends a week later and all six kittens are alive and well. Their eyes are open now--cute as ever. So glad we did what we did to save them knowing we may risk having ants biting our hands which happened once in a while, but it didn’t matter to us.

    Interesting thing about the relationship between humans and these ants…when an army moves into a hut, people tend to allow them to ‘clean’ their hut of insects the ants find inside. Once the insects and other critters are devoured, the ants move on.

Latest update... I came down with malaria this past Thursday. I am on daily malaria preventative medication, but with everything going on with my roof and living out of my backpack I may have missed a dose. My symptoms were dehydration, high fever (I felt like I was in an oven), weakness, and achy joints. The symptoms came on within a three hour period, so I got tested and was positive. I caught it early because I never developed a headache. I am fully recovered now. Don't want to get that again!

    My roof is being re-thatched. It supposedly wasn't done correctly the first time, so since the second time re-thatching is so close to rain season, rain season began while my roof was off. So, I have to wait for the grass to dry before they put it on my roof. Some of my things are damaged, but I may be reimbursed for some things like my mattress.

Crazy cab ride...

     I’d like to use this cab experience to explain what it’s like to ride in a cab in Zambia. Cab rides here are much different from cab rides in the States.

     So buckle your seat-belt and enjoy the ride.

     I take a cab as a last resort. I would rather hitch which is fairly safe and a common way to get around in this country since most people don’t have cars or a lot of money. I chose to take a cab this particular day because later in the day it is difficult to find a ride hitching.

     I choose to take a shared cab because it is affordable compared to a private cab. A private cab costs ten times more.  On a Peace Corps budget I have no choice but to take a shared cab.

     Around noontime on Saturday I set out to the roadside of in my village in my full-length skirt, Teva sandals, hair pulled back and carrying my almost-empty backpack with the intent to come back with it loaded with food and supplies.  Solwezi, my boma (town), has a large market, a grocery store and the provincial house where Peace Corps Volunteers go to do work, such as writing grants or updating blogs.

    I sat in the shade on the roadside waiting for a cab to pull up. I attempted to journal until a local sat next to me to chat. Then we were visited by an intoxicated man from the bar, and then another one…the conversation wasn’t very interesting. Finally all three left. I was alone again. I looked at the time on my phone; I’ve been waiting for over an hour. No cab.

     Finally a cab pulled up after two hours of waiting. If I had to get somewhere at a certain time it wouldn’t matter. This is how it is in Zambia. It is ok to be late because it is so difficult to get anywhere on time.

     I get in the small compact Japanese hatchback along with two other people. I sit in the passenger seat with my pack on my lap. We pull out onto the road. Immediately the cab pulls over to pick up a couple waiting on the side of the road. They are headed to Mutanda; halfway to Solwezi. They pile in. Four people in the back seat and the driver and me in the front and the trunk full of bags.

     We continue to drive down the tarmac (paved road) at excessive speed while dodging the wading pool-sized potholes. The cab stops to let off a passenger at a small village--one less person--not always a good thing, because this means the driver can stop and pick up another passenger which can take a long time.

     Driving along there is a man with a single bag slung over his shoulder waiting on the side of the road waving us down. OK, this shouldn’t take long.

     Well, I was wrong.

     The driver of the cab gets out and talks with the man. The man disappears into a small hut. A few minutes later the hatchback opens and something is placed inside. Whatever it was it made a loud yelling sound. I turn around…it’s a full-grown goat, hogtied, placed upside down in the trunk.

     Great! Poor goat! Usually it’s live chickens that are thrown in the back of cabs.

     So, this pick up ended up taking about 15 minutes. Cab is full. We continue stops along the way dropping people off and picking more up. The man with the goat is finally let off. I watch them unload the goat and untie the goat’s legs; the goat stumbles onto its feet and the man leads it with a rope tied around its neck.

     The remaining passengers and I are dropped off at a gas station about a half mile from where I am usually dropped off. Walking isn’t such a big deal around here. Passengers are dropped where it is convenient for the driver even if the full fare is paid.

     I pay the driver, give a quick thank you in Kikaonde, sling my backpack on my back and walk along the dusty, busy main road of Solwezi. I have about a mile and a half walk to my destination.

     I’m used to this mode of travel. Every cab ride has its own unique experience…never the same, never reliable, and never uneventful.

Girls having fun...

One of the Peace Corps goals is to empower girls. I welcome all children to play at my site. I expecially like it when it's girls only.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My next door neighbors...

A family of nine lives next door to me. The childrens' ages range from two into the early 20s. There is a mother and father. The father is a pastor at a church. I am very close to this family. Currently I am working on designing a vegetable garden along with the mother. I was going to plant a garden at my site, but I had the idea: why not plant my garden at my neighbors'? This way I can use it as a demo garden for passers by to observe how conservation farming works. And, the family and I will benefit from fresh, organic veggies.

 

Yes, notice Shalome making a face second from left. He is standing with his two brothers and a girl who lives nearby. The father is walking into his house to the right. My hut is the same size as theirs, but they fit nine people in it as opposed to only me in my hut.

 

This is Happy. He is 13. Early on during community entry I was feeling like I wanted to give up on the Peace Corps until Happy walked passed my hut, waved and flashed that fantastic smile of his. That is when I said to myself: I'm here for Happy, and I stopped feeling bad about my service. I always think of Happy when I feel like I want to throw in the towel.  

 

 

My good friend Maggie who is the mother. She is cooking nshima. She also works hard with helping me improve my Kikaonde.

 

 

Agape

 

Shalome

 

 Gertrude is the daughter of the oldest child of the family. Her mother is a single mother. Yes, Gertrude is holding a knife; not uncommon for young children to handle dangerous items. Amazingly they rarely get hurt. Parents also allow young children like Gertrude to chew on chicken bones. Young children here in Zambia behave very differently from American children. They are unusually very well-behaved.

 

 Lunch time.

Why many little girls miss out on school...

These girls spend their days watching their siblings. Most aren't over the age of 10. Girls are very responsible compared to most boys. They are taught at a very young age how to care for babies, do laundry, cooking, and fetching water.

I am amazed with their abilities as care givers. The babies are exceptionally well-behaved and the girls do not carry around baby bags like we do in the States. Most of the babies don't wear diapers; only cloth or nothing at all. When the babies are hungry the girls bring the babies back to their mothers to nurse.

None of these girls can speak English, which is an indicator they don't attend school. The top three photographs are of Bella. She is a beautiful girl, she is shy and very sweet. Sometimes she comes by without a baby...I spend one-on-one time with her and sometimes share a meal with her. She loves the attention.

 

 

Shalome...

Shalome is around six years old. He has a twin sister. Another name for Shalome is Boyu. His twin sister's name is Kapia. Kapia and Boyu are names used to distinguish the older twin from the younger twin, or which was born first. Shalome, or Boyu, was born before Kapia. Most children have more than one name: a traditional and Christian or Western name. Everytime I take out my camera Shalome is there to ham it up.  

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

First Several Months in the Peace Corps as a Slightly Older Volunteer

     I’m under 50, but, I’ve gone through divorce, raised kids, been in the work force over 20 years, and put myself through college. Not only have I brought two bags of luggage weighing under 100lbs for two years of service, but heavier baggage from the life I’ve left behind. Taking a plunge into serving in a third world country as the oldest woman of my intake, I was aware I may be facing a challenge the others in my intake will not face—isolation due to age gap.

Pre-service Training

     Since arriving in Zambia seven months ago I’ve met the people I would spend three months with during pre-service training. Out of 27 there was a small handful of others in their early to mid-30s. Everyone else in their 20’s, just like my oldest son. I had a choice: do I put on the mother ‘hat’ and make sure they understand I’m older, fool them into thinking in control of my life and I’ll be a rock for them?

Absolutely not!

     I came in just like they did: unsure, nervous, little scared leaving everything behind. I didn’t know any of these people before I left except for a few brief conversations on Facebook. So how could I continue carrying on with my role as a guiding force as I had done many years before? Well, I decided that I am going to do this Peace Corps thing as a person with no age attached to me. Like I mentioned before, my entire adult life has been as a mother; albeit, not always responsible, made many mistakes, and carrying some guilt; so here I am…on my own for the first time as an adult…with a bunch of awesome people just out of college.

    Shedding my age, but hanging onto the knowledge I’ve gained over the years, helped me through. I formed great friendships with some of my intake. Others stayed more or less acquaintances, but we all respect each other and we will always be there to support each other during our service and maybe beyond. Something I learned from a few Volunteers: they were excited to get to know me. There were also a few who acknowledged admiration of my determination to make my dream reality becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer.

My Intake

     My intake group was full of interesting and intelligent adults. That’s how I saw them. I would even feel I wasn’t as smart as some of them. A little humbling, but I moved through it. I remember learning from my own kids over the years. I’m not a know-it-all and never want to be. So I made sure I was open to others’ ideas. There was also a lot of humor; some of it I thought absurd, such as, another Volunteer blew up a condom on his head until it popped. I look back on it now and laugh.

Language

     I struggled through the language and found those few who I would sneak into a corner with and discuss how we felt being the ‘slow’ ones in our language groups. It was nice having that support. I needed it more than anything. There were times when I thought I wasn’t going to make it through because of the difficulty I had. But I continued and I’m glad I didn’t give up.

Host Family

     I loved living with my host family during training. I had read in a forum of 50 and over adult Volunteers discussing being ‘older’ and disliking being told when they will eat, what they will eat, and when they will take a bath. I looked at this situation as: wow, I’m being taken care of and I like this. I took full advantage of the structure set by my family. I did choose to continue washing my own laundry even though I did a terrible job at it.

Back Home

     I left two children behind: one nineteen and the other 27. My 27 year old is settled with a career in teaching and doing well. My younger son is in a different situation. I tried guiding him in a certain direction before I left, but he got derailed a few times while my being in Africa. We communicate through Facebook and texts. I have been long-distance parenting and somehow it seems to be working. As long as I’m there for him, we are both ok.

     I made a pact with myself once I left the United States to serve: I will not allow anyone influence the way I conduct myself while living two years in Africa. That means no romantic ties back home. I am free, like I said, for the first time in my adult life and looking forward to the person who is waiting to arise from within. Having limited support from home is quite a challenge, though.

Community Entry

     When I entered community entry I found myself having difficulty transitioning to the isolation of being sole Volunteer for several kilometers. I felt like I lost my identity. No one was there to confirm who I was.

     Living thousands of miles from home in a country with different culture including food, language, dress, norms, and mores, no one really knew me and no one really understood what I was going through; except other Volunteers. The Volunteers in my intake I was close with lived in other provinces, so I felt around my own province for new support.

     I immediately got support from other Volunteers. I had my first visitor to my site; I visited another Volunteer for a few days. This turned things around for me. I learned that others were having similar struggles and I got ideas how to handle certain situations. I started to learn how to live on my own in my community.

     Community entry was tough. My strength within has grown immensely during those three months.

Post Community Entry

     I made it through community entry and am now creating work for myself to help my village with food security. I have been making new contacts with NGOs, friends nearby who are villagers and missionaries and I’m continuously meeting fascinating people. I still face struggles, but I seem to be able to deal with them better. One of the things is having a strong support system from other Volunteers. The Volunteers in my province are my family; my family here in Zambia, Africa…in the middle of nowhere.

     The point I’m getting at is when older Volunteers enter the Peace Corps, letting go of past roles, such as in a career, or as a parent; being open to other people’s ideas and not being judgmental is key to forming friendships with others. For me, the friendships I’ve formed with other Peace Corps Volunteers have made my Peace Corps experience bearable during the toughest times.

     Peace Corps life is not perfect, but really, what is? Even in the States there are struggles. As an older Volunteer, I am finding more room for growth. I let go of my ego and am building a new one. I like the person I am becoming. I like me. Age is only a number; doesn’t mean anything, unless you want it to.

 

update...

Finished a week and a half of in service training in Lusaka, then went on holiday to Malawi with some of my fellow Peace Corps friends. Pics to follow eventually. Snorkeled in Lake Malawi and cliff dived. Had a great adventure. I am still traveling back home to my village. May get there tomorrow. Africa is HUGE! Multiple 10+ hour bus rides on crowded buses with little food. Having fun regardless.

A girl I met on a beach of Lake Malawi.

The cliffs I jumped off of.

Village market headed toward Malawi.

Dugout canoes.

Mountains on our way to Malawi.

July in Mumena Village...

     Zambia is below the equator so the month of July is cool. In fact, temperatures can come close to freezing. July is also in the midst of dry season. Nothing is really green any more except for the trees that keep their leaves. 

     This month is also time of harvest. Maize is grown by most subsistence farmers. By now the corn in the fields is dry and the farmers harvest by hand. They will hire ox carts to transport the maize to their homes or to a place that stores maize. Once the maize is harvested and brought to its location, the maize cobs are either beaten with a club to remove the kernels or the kernels are removed by hand.

     I like this time of year. It is still warm during the day, guaranteed no rain, and it is breezy. I love seeing the elephant grass swaying in the wind. Peaceful. 

 

 

 Village children who visit all of the time

 

 

I don't give the children things. I don't want them to think I give handouts, but chalk is what I will give to the children. They practice writing on the cement slab of my outdoor kitchen

 

 

My to-do list

 

 

Transporting soil from old garden beds to create new beds in my garden in front of my house.

 

 

 I made this shelf which will serve as my workbench for my tree nursery. I built it into a tree.

 

 

 Children helped hold my bike while I loaded fired bricks from a kiln onto my bike for transport back to my house. I was able to fit six bricks on my bike.

 

 My brick patio. I added two more rows since this pic. I placed a layer of river stone underneath. Before rain season I will either have a shelter built to protect the bricks or cement over the bricks.

 

My walkway which I will fill in with gravel. I am looking outside my doorway.

 

 

Letting my hair grow. By the end of two years my hair should have grown a foot long!

 

This is my water source. It is about 50 meters away from my hut. I fill two 20 liter jerry cans two or three times per day and carry them to my hut. I don't mind doing this at all. I am learning how to conserve water.