One of my life-time passions...trees

     Oak, maple, elm…you won’t find these trees in Zambia, but you will find mupetanzobu, musokobele, and kabalabala. These are Kiikaonde names for trees found in my area and are used for timber, food and medicine.

     I am writing my first book--yes, my first book--on trees and their uses in northwest Zambia. I am co-authoring with a local villager, Kaonde by tribe, who is a carpenter and expert on local trees. 

     This manual is geared toward Peace Corps Volunteers and local farmers to help them learn how to implement tree planting for food security, income generation, soil improvement, and other uses in the villages they reside.

     Alongside the book, which I hope to get published by September, I am organizing a workshop in agroforestry for Peace Corps Volunteers and their village representatives in northwest province. The workshop will be three days of a variety of topics including planting and maintaining citrus trees, how to get kids involved with tree planting, and nursery planning and construction. 

     October is the month prior to planting season, or when the rains come, so this information will be fresh in participators’ minds when they head back home.

     Busy is a word I would describe a bee…I’m more than busy. And I’m excited to finally see my work become tangible. It has taken me a year to build relations with the community here, as well as outside the community. Luckily there is a government agriculture research station the next village over where I go to get expert advice on trees and other things pertaining to farming. I’ve worked hard which includes riding my bike to meet with the research station to go over plans I have and just talk and make friends. I’m networking, which is a good thing to learn how to do, especially in a foreign country.

     Peace Corps is a great program. I believe it works because a volunteer with a unique view of the world and how things can be accomplished lives within a community for two years. For many, two years isn’t a very long time, but living in a place that is so different from where Volunteers come from is a life-changing experience. Volunteers have to figure out how to get along with a people who think and act different from ourselves. It’s not just learning how to live without showers and electricity; it’s adapting to a whole other world and not having close friends from home nearby to help out with the daily stresses that come along. 

     It is a tough job, but is rewarding. This experience will stay with me for the rest of my life. Being a Peace Corps Volunteer isn’t only about helping others, it’s also about finding ourselves and becoming something that we never dreamed of being. I love Peace Corps

To give or not to give…

     White privilege…that is what I have. I have it because I have white skin. That’s all. Living in a predominately black country I stand out not only because I look different, but because my white skin is analogous to having money.

     I am asked at least once for money when I’m out and about either in my village or in town. I follow the Peace Corps model “we don’t give money; we give knowledge” so I turn everyone down. It isn’t good to encourage the white-people-give-money stereotype and people need to find other means to survive on their own without begging.

     In town, young boys, young men who are typically drunkards, and on rare occasions, young girls come up to me without hesitation and ask the well-rehearsed question, ‘can you give me money?’ I walk right past them. It is tough because I know that some of them are actually hungry and need food.

     I am surprised to see begging like this in my village because the only white people who pass through the village are Peace Corps Volunteers and missionaries so there are so few of us that I can’t imagine how this practice of begging is taught. It could be imparted by adults or peers. 

     Who knows? But in the town, I fully understand how this is regularly practiced. It’s as if the young boys who beg are ‘experts’ in the field. They have a line they give clearly in English as though they’ve practiced for hours on end and I’ve seen them stalk me and wait for the perfect moment to pounce on the unsuspecting-white-person-with-money-who-has-a-soft-spot-for-street-kids.

     There is an exception to this rule, though. In my village when a woman has the courage to approach me and struggle to speak English explaining she has traveled far by foot and is hungry, or a woman who does not have food to serve her family for breakfast, I don’t hesitate. I help out. Remember, there are no food stamp programs in this country; no safety net as what we’re used to in western countries.

     Kaonde women are shy by nature and they’re proud. I hold utmost respect for these women. They are hard working and do their best raising their children through very difficult times that we can’t even imagine. Rarely am I approached by women asking for help, but when I am asked I know she is at desperate measures. I am grateful I am there to give a helping hand.

     Begging is practiced in the United States. Sometimes I had given into it, and it’s all races that beg, or ask for help. I will be interested to see if my stance on giving to a person who claims who needs help will be different. Will I have a different view? Will I be more sympathetic? Will I be more keen and selective on who to give to? It will be interesting to see how I handle this situation when I come home.

     When I was raising my children there had been desperate situations I found myself in. I’m shy and proud just as the Kaonde women are. The only safety net I had was help from the government or friends. It’s the same thing as a person on the streets who have reached desperate measures to stay alive. I had lived on the streets in my car for two weeks with my son who was two years old at the time. I asked my father to help me…and he did.

Two years in Peace Corps is like a long-distance race…

     I remember applying to Peace Corps a few years ago and equating it with a marathon; it took determination, drive, perseverance, and patience. After a year and a half of completing the application process the ‘finish line’ was my invitation to serve in Zambia as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

     Now I’m a year and a half into my service. I look back and notice similarities between the state-of-mind runners go through while running a trail marathon and what I've been going through in the first half of my 27 month commitment as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

     Before joining Peace Corps I've ran two trail races over marathon distance and multiple half-marathon trail races. Running teaches many things and one of the things it has taught me is not to give up.

    So, let’s begin with the starting line…I come into country with 53 other Peace Corps Volunteer ‘hopefuls’ ready to go through the rigorous three month training prior to becoming a Volunteer. I don’t want to say I was competing against these 53, but I did notice I am the only one in my age group and the oldest female. That’s a challenge right there. I asked myself if I had the endurance to make it along with the others who are fresh out of college and half my age.

     As with races, I compete against myself with anything I find challenging. I use others to help gauge if I’m at the place I should be at; such as, do I push myself more or should I slow down?

     This is where my self-building-up comes in. I have a college education and over twenty years of adult life experience. My health is impeccable and I’ve been through the hell and back raising two kids, now successful adults, by myself while working and going to college. So, if I can do that, I can do anything.

     This is what I go through prior to a race: I look at the other contenders and size them up a bit; I look for others who are similar to my fitness level. I reassure myself I've done the distance before and I’ve been training for the race for a while, so there is nothing to worry about, though my nerves are a little on edge. I call this the ‘adrenaline rush’. That is what will keep me going; nerves that will pull me through the tough spots along the way.

     Once the start begins I feel good. I feel like I’ll have no problem pulling this off. Everyone else is feeling this as well. I look around and we all have smiles on our faces…this is great. I’m in a good place. Just have to remember to pace myself and not get too cocky because we all know anything can change.

     During Peace Corps training, the first one drops out--just like in a race. This affects me personally in two ways: I fear of dropping out, too, but also I get a push from within that gives me the courage to overcome obstacles. I remind myself thinking I have prepared for this and I must keep going.

     The first three months in Peace Corps, I believe, are the toughest so far because this is when a person questions whether this is how they want to spend the next twenty-four months of their lives. I had some doubts during this time, but the others around me encouraged me to keep going. I don’t know what I would have done without the support. Just like in a race, I get support from other runners along the way, and I remember family and friends who wished me luck before I set out for the challenge. 

    

     

  

     Once finished with the first three months and declared a Peace Corps Volunteer; I’m feeling great. I did it. I can keep going. Still several months ahead of me, but I can do it. More people had dropped out, but the chances of more to pull out have dropped. I’m feeling confident with my dedication.

     After month four I am finding a new challenge: I am alone with myself. The others are spread out in other areas of the country. I don’t have the happy faces that pass or I pass by to give each other encouragement…I just have myself. I’m still feeling good, but I have to readjust to the freedom of the open trail ahead of me. 

    I don’t have the others to help gauge how I’m doing. I just hope I’m not moving too slowly or too quickly. If I do too much work now in my village, I may find myself tired and nothing left to do to complete my service. But, if I’m not working hard enough, I will have the fear of letting myself down with not challenging myself enough. Being alone can also open up the door of negativity. Thoughts pass through such as, ‘Am I good enough to do this?’

    The breaks during service away from the village are much needed just like water breaks in a race. Fuel up and get encouragement from others. Cheering me on helps revive a positive outlook of what’s ahead.

     Back in the village I have many obstacles. Am I eating the right things? Is my health still where it should be? Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that strange meat the other night. A false alarm of intestinal issues rise up when I get a sudden urge of having to use the restroom, or the kimbusu in my village, but, luckily this feeling passes and I continue on clearing my mind and thinking about happy things like kittens and puppies.

     Loneliness in the village is the same as loneliness on the trail until someone passes by and gives a smile and a new friend is made. It’s a journey all right. And the journeys are never the same just as running a race that had been run before…it’s never the same race because it’s a brand new journey.

     Getting close to mid-way in my service I’ve decided I’m in Peace Corps until the end. Nothing will stop me unless something happens back home that prevents me from finishing. I’m in this for the long run and feel confident.

     Since training ended more people had pulled out, but I don’t feel happy about it. I try to understand what strength it takes to make that final decision. Peace Corps is like a long distance race; it takes stamina, endurance, perseverance, and dedication. I haven’t made it to the ‘finish line’ yet, but I can envision the people waiting for me back home with smiles and cheering…just like a race.

     I still have ten more months to go in my service. There is still a chance I could drop out whether it is a tragedy at home I need to tend to or I lose the ambition to continue. The latter is why encouragement from friends back home is so important. I still need to hear, ‘Keep going, Ginny!’ This is a challenge I put myself into because I love to see how far I can go. It’s a mental challenge, just like a race, to make it to the finish line, and I plan to see you all at the end.

photo credit: Scott Livingston