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

What do you envision when you think of Africa?

     Before I came to sub-Saharan Africa I pictured open plains with roaming wildlife and since I was coming here to help people my mind was full of images of children with extended bellies eating some kind of white stuff with their hands.

     I think this is what most Americans think of when they envision the African continent.

     There are open plains, but most of the animals are found in parks in Zambia. I'd have to go on a safari to see lions, wildebeests, and hippos.

     The people? Yes, there are hungry and malnourished children, but there are also educated and skilled people who live here, as well.

     Zambia is changing rapidly. Half the population live in rural areas, but the other half live in cities and suburbs. Because it is an African country most of the people who live in Zambia are black, or I'd rather say, have darker colored skin because the sun is so powerful near the equator; the darker skin color adds protection from the intense sunlight. White people live here, too, but they are a minority.

    So, now envision city sidewalks crowded with people in suits and dresses on their way to or from work or my village with the amazingly intelligent and driven native Africans who work hard to make a difference through the NGO they work for. Not only that, but also the skilled farmers who work very hard growing food for the nation.

     My pre-image of Africa has changed, and I hope yours does, too. I am glad for the development and opportunities that are being offered to these people. But, don't forget the other images of ancient cultures of a people who still maintain their tradition of herding livestock, hunting and gathering, and dressing as they always have since the earlier years; those people still exist, as well.

     My job isn't only to help those in need. My job is also to learn about the world and have a better understanding of it and in turn have a better understanding of myself. This world is ever evolving and I am privileged to be somewhat evolving along with it.

   

Zambia: A melting pot...

     I write a lot about my village and its people, but I want to include outside of my village.

     Recently I attended a conference in Lusaka. Lusaka is the capital of Zambia and it is a modern city with several shopping malls, restaurants--including Pizza Hut and KFC--businesses, and roads with sidewalks.

     The end of my stay I lodged at a backpacker hostel. There I met a woman from Austria. We hit it off right away and spent the remainder of my time together. She is two months into her journey around the world; first visiting countries in Africa. So, my social life isn't solely concentrated to the village. 

Andrea and me enjoying a beer at the hostel.

     A list of the countries represented by people I've met in Zambia: 

Belgium
Rwanda
Zimbabwe
South Africa
England
Ireland
Austria
Iceland
New Zealand
Canada
South Korea
Germany
Peru
Croatia

     Most of these people have not heard of Peace Corps, or they have, but I explain to them what Peace Corps is and does. 

     I am meeting more diverse people here in Zambia than I did back in the States. Amazing, isn't it?

     You may be wondering why there are people from all over the world in this African country. Well, many have relocated for jobs, especially at the mines and some are just passing through on their travels. 

Buwame; the little star I see in the sky at night...

     This is hard for me to write and may be hard for you to read, but I want to share an experience with my friends and followers that I never expected to experience so close to heart here in Africa.

     My host family is very dear to me. They welcomed me into their home one year ago today and they treat me like I am one of their own. Yes, I am older than my host father and mother, by say, 12 years? But they have taught me a lot about their culture especially the family life: very close and generous.

     Everyday I visit my family and would spend time with their son, Buwame: one and a half years old and full of energy. He had learned how to say my name and started to walk on his own (with supervision) to my hut to visit me. Happy and healthy little boy. What a treat it was to visit with this little guy.

     Over two months ago the unthinkable happened. He had come down with a fever and was not able to hold anything down. His parents, both nurses, professionally cared for him until they realized he needed hospitalization. He was in the hospital for a little over a day and improving when suddendly while being held by his mother he became seriously ill again. The doctors ordered him to be placed under oxygen. It wasn't long after he passed away.

     This was a sudden and unexpected death. None of us were ready for such a tragedy. I think of all the children I interact with in the village and notice certain ones who I believe won't make it another year because of malnutrition or continuously coming down with malaria. But not Buwame. Bathed everyday, always held, loved by everyone, fed nutritious food...

     We don't know what took him and we never will. We will always think of the little fellow. His smile is etched in my brain.

     Here in the villages of Zambia death is a common occurrance. Disease is always present and children are most suseptable. I was aware of this when I signed on to volunteer. I felt I can handle death in the village. But being so close to a little life like this has made me realize life can change in an instant whether it be mine or yours or someone else's.

Buwame holding his little brother, Bibusa a couple of months before his passing.

A chance to see what's outside the box...

This past week I and other Peace Corps Volunteers from northwest province facilitaed a boys soccor camp that emphasized HIV and malaria prevention. Each Volunteer invited two boys (7th to 9th grades) and one mentor from their village to take part. It was a lot of fun for all of us and offered a chance for the boys to experience life outside their villages. The boys were selected by the schools based on their advanced academic and leadership levels. Their smiles will will stay with me forever.

 

 

Photo credit: Kenneth Janson