tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85658264308110439812024-02-08T12:10:13.357-08:00Hearts and BonesAshleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-30238455071851966042015-04-14T04:28:00.003-07:002015-04-14T04:28:31.289-07:00Visiting NachibangaI traveled seventeen hours from Chipata to Lusaka to Choma. On my bus ride from Lusaka to Choma (to which I ran through traffic for thirty minutes with three bags strapped to me in order to reach in time), we were stuck in more traffic and took back streets through the capital city. At first I felt frustrated at the bus driver and his diversions, but I decided to take a deep breath and look out the window and people-watch. It was actually a beautiful perspective, a glimpse into the night-time lives of the urban poor. Candle-lit shacks, men drinking shake-shake (cheap Zambian alcohol) and dancing their day away, occasionally glancing at women walking by and pondering whether or not to call their attention. Women selling vegetables and evening snacks, children holding hands running down the streets.<br />
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Upon arriving in Southern Province, I visited Nachibanga village after seven months of living in Chipata. The trip was not meant to be a prolonged goodbye; rather, I wanted to solidify for my village and host family the reality that I really am thinking about them and missing them constantly. I spent a few days in Choma and appreciated time at the Peace Corps provincial house with volunteer friends, a house which acted as somewhat of a refuge away from the stresses of life in rural Zambia during my two years of service. The ladies selling vegetables in the market in Choma remembered me, as did the guys working at Spar (the one grocery store in town) and the mini-bus drivers. They even passed me while running and yelled out the window, "Muzoka?" which was my bus stop on my journeys back to the village.<br />
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The morning I returned to Nachibanga I left Choma at six in the morning and hitched to Muzoka. In Muzoka I was greeted by the women selling vegetables on the side of the road as they shouted, "Chipego (actually an enunciated 'CHIIPEEGOOO')! Where have you been?! We missed you!" It was like old times, because they used to ask me the same question each time I left my village for two days to go to town throughout my service. I said hello to my favorite tuck shop owners and bought lollipops for the kids before walking towards Nachibanga.<br />
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The first stop on my walk down the dusty road from Muzoka to Nachibanga was to visit Viness, the head of our HIV support group in Hambala village. She was so surprised to see me, and her huge, kind smile was absolutely priceless. We chatted for a while, and she proudly showed me the work she was doing with my replacement volunteer and the PEPFAR training she attended for Peace Corps. Viness understood that I needed to visit other people, so after some time we gave each other hugs and I continued walking.<br />
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I had just left Viness' house and began sweating from the mid-morning heat when I saw a woman walking towards me. I knew it was Ba Judy (well, I was almost positive-- I didn't have my glasses on) and I picked up the pace and ran to give her a huge hug. It was like nothing had changed. We walked the remainder of the road until we reached home.<br />
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At home I saw Banene (my host grandmother), Ba Erin and her children, Ba Edith and Noah, and Ba Leifson. We sat and talked about what was new, then quickly fell back into the routine of me listening to (and trying to understand) the village news and gossip of the day. When I saw Maya, the first baby I named in the village, I smiled wide and went to give her a hug. But Maya was cautious-- she couldn't believe it was me. It took her a few hours before she came over to hug me and hold my hand. She was speaking in full sentences and has so much attitude-- she is going to be a very strong woman when she grows up.<br />
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Ba Judy and I walked to the health post and found it painted. I also found the new block on the school completed and in use. Ba Judy spoke of plans to build a mother's shelter with the new volunteer, and to build a house for a nurse using government grant funds for which they had already applied. Progress, slowly but surely! I ran into two teachers with whom I was very close, and we spoke for a while before I went to see the Headmaster Mr. Musune. Mr. Musune was a source of strength and support for me, particularly throughout the arduous process of building our health post. He also supported my efforts with the Anti-AIDS club, and allowed me to speak openly about HIV and condoms (something that is very rare for a headmaster in Zambia). When I walked onto his compound, his face lit up. He excitedly asked me how I was doing, what I would be doing when I returned home to America, and how long it would be until I visited again.<br />
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Our next stop was Ba Stanley's house. Ba Stanley built my new hut when my old one flooded, and completed the job with only the help of one other person-- Ba Judy. Nobody else wanted to build the house, and if it weren't for him, I would not have been able to go back to Nachibanga. I found Ba Stanley mending a shoe for a friend. It was really a metaphor for how things work in Zambia: anything broken can be fixed and continue to be used, and if you don't have the tools to mend it yourself, you ask your neighbor for help. Ba Stanley is a very quiet and humble man, and my time with him always feels meaningful and filled with genuine intention behind our exchange of words.<br />
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After a quick stop back at Ba Judy's house (in which she told me she needed to bath so she could look as clean as I did-- though I was certainly much dirtier and caked in a layer of dust), the visit was almost over. I said goodbye to Banene, Ba Erin and her kids, Ba Edith and Noah, and as I walked away Maya started to cry. I turned around to wave, and then continued walking and speaking with Ba Judy about secret things only Tonga women can know (secrets that had been shared with me as I became incredibly close with the women in my family). We had been walking the entire day and felt exhausted, but continued walking and talking. I said one final goodbye to Viness, and was able to see another member of our support group (a tiny older women with only one front tooth and a huge gaping smile) who always cracked me up with her feisty attitude. When we reached the roadside, we met Ba Judy's new husband Ba Glanson, and the two of them waited until a hitch stopped for me. Alas, my first visit back to Nachibanga had ended, and it filled me up with happiness and love to last for a long time.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-38962489155062285552015-01-07T01:29:00.003-08:002015-01-07T01:29:33.752-08:00ZanzibarI recently returned from two weeks on the island of Zanzibar. It was <i>magical</i>. Spice tours where we picked the spices and tasted them right off trees, snorkeling adventures involving huge waves and a tiny tipping sailboat. Cobblestone streets lined with old historical buildings. Mosques adorned with beautiful, intricately crafted windows and doors. Markets filled with cloves, cardamom, cinnamon, vanilla and coriander, and colorful prints on Zanzibari chitenge and harem pants. People selling Maasai anklets and bracelets, chai tea brewing on street corners, and incense wafting from the clothes of Zanzibari women. My senses were overwhelmed in the best way possible.<br />
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We flew into Dar Es Salaam and took a ferry to Stone Town, which used to be a center of the spice and slave trades. We took public transportation from Stone Town north to Nungwi, and then south to Bwejuu. Riding the daladalas, or open but relatively comfortable trucks with cushioned benches, was the perfect way to see the trees and farms along the one main road. I felt a bit like a nomad with my life in a backpack riding in the back of a truck, but I am now used to this. The highlight of the trip for me was staying at Mustapha's Place in Bwejuu, a small backpacker's paradise which was designed by the owner Alessandra, an Italian artist/architect. Hammocks and flowers were scattered about, an eclectic mixture of soul, reggae, and funk played at the main hang-out, and bonfires happened each night. <br />
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One night an older man with John Lennon-style glasses and an elegant older woman, who I presume were both from England, invited us all to join them around the fire. The man lead us in singing songs from all over Africa, and the woman told fables about animals, the sun and the moon. It was one of the most moving nights I have ever had, people of all ages sitting around a fire under the stars with white sand under our feet. I almost didn't leave Zanzibar.<br />
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Now I am back in Zambia with a renewed perspective. I do not know what the next few months will look like, but I feel empowered and energized to make decisions about work and about life that will make me happy and fulfilled. Life is too short to wait for these things; you have to take them and own them.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-31689675187042428572014-12-08T03:59:00.002-08:002014-12-08T04:05:10.271-08:00Chipata<div class="MsoNormal">
It has been challenging to write since saying goodbye to my village a number of months ago.
The day I left Nachibanga is still clear in my mind; waking up before sunrise to pack remaining items into zambags, loading my belongings onto an oxcart to be taken
to the big dirt road with my host nieces and nephews tagging along for the
ride. Being picked up by my friend in a
canter truck, with Ba Judy and her husband Gladson traveling with me to Choma. And of course in typical TIA (This Is Africa) fashion, getting stopped by road police for over an hour while all transport was halted for a reason I will never understand. We did eventually make it to Choma. Ba Judy had not been to town in over two years, so I decided to give her a little bit of spending money to have a nice meal with her husband before heading back to the village without me. I gave my hugs, and watched them walk into town. I felt sad, but I knew the feeling would settle in the months to come when I did not have my village in my daily life to provide me with companionship, challenges, and hilarious experiences that were too numerous to write down.</div>
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I visited America for a month, and then moved to Chipata to begin my third-year Peace Corps extension position with USAID/Feed the Future as the program's Field Coordinator. Chipata is in the Eastern Province, nine hours from Lusaka (due to road construction) and a short distance from the border between Zambia and Malawi. Chipata acts as a center of trade, commerce, and agricultural activity. This large town, which is surrounded by mountains that I have hiked on Sunday mornings with new friends, is growing quickly. My experiences in Chipata have been eye-opening thus far, as this is my first time understanding development issues from an agricultural standpoint. Deforestation and soil degradation are critical issues impacting farmers across the country, and I am able to go out into the field with the numerous implementing partner organizations to evaluate new practices being promoted to hopefully mitigate the impacts of global climate change. The increasingly dramatic delays in the onset of the rains (it is already December and the rains have not begun in Eastern and Southern Provinces) in addition to the rapid reduction in forest-cover across the country lend clear evidence to the potentially devastating effects of climate change in many developing countries like Zambia.<br />
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As Feed the Future's Field Coordinator, I have been given big and broad responsibilities with little direction on how to achieve results. I am the only member of USAID's Feed the Future Economic Development team based in Chipata, and I work with partner organizations receiving funding from USAID. There is a great deal of energy behind changing farming methods and adopting new technologies, and it is quite exciting to be a part of this movement. It is challenging to be the only staff member of this type based in Chipata, and I make my own schedule based on the activities happening each week. Some weeks I am out in the field almost every day, traveling along neglected dirt roads to villages and monitoring farmer fields and trainings. Some weeks I am in meetings and compiling research or updates for the Feed the Future partners. I am getting into the swing of things, and also realizing that being part of a close-knit team on a day-to-day basis is something I am ready for in the near future. <br />
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I will say that it is strange to be a visitor when I am out in the field because my life was based in the village for over two years. I arrive and leave from field visits in a shiny vehicle, returning to my home with electricity (most of the time) and running water. I can't make villagers see me in the same way my village saw me, and at times I find myself wanting to say, "Hey, I lived in the village for two years! I don't need a special chair, I can sit on the ground and I will be fine! In fact, I <i>want </i>to sit in the dirt and have your kids play with my hair!" On one visit, a few young girls sat next to me while their parents were learning about improved farming techniques, and I couldn't resist teaching them the alphabet by writing in the sand. I miss these little things, and it is difficult to come and go in this way. All I can do is appreciate the time I had in Nachibanga and know that my values and passions have been more clearly defined during my time in Zambia. I am learning about the type of work and life I crave, and I feel stronger in my convictions. </div>
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Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-51310559793758189222014-09-01T09:54:00.001-07:002014-09-01T09:54:12.196-07:00Love and CelebrationMy village knows how to celebrate. Three-hundred people dancing and smiling, Bamaamas cooking for their villages around orange fires, making barrels of <i>chibwantu</i> (traditional maize drink) to sustain everyone from evening to morning to the next sunset. Words of genuine gratitude were spoken. There were tears and goodbyes. There was a moment, after hours of speeches, songs and skits, when all eleven headmen with whom I worked to build our community health post lined up to face me. They each thanked me individually, touching their hearts with one hand and shaking mine with the other. I knew every one of them well, and I realized what these two years were for. If nothing else, it was about the meaningful connections I made with people in my village and the moments of community collaboration that happened when we were working together. <br />
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A week later when it was almost time to leave Nachibanga, there were a few important people to whom I wanted to give gifts and sit down with for just a few more moments. One of these people was the 72-year-old headman of Chinene village, who worked tirelessly day after day to build our health post, sometimes with only my sister Ba Judy and our builder to help. There was a funeral in his village right before my departure, and though I spread the word to my friends in the village that I would love to see him if he had time, I accepted that I would not see <i>Basibbuku</i> (headman) Chinene before I left. As the sun was going down on my second to last night, I saw a small older man walking up the hill towards my house being lead by my host sister. It was Ba Chinene, and I unconsciously yelled out loud, "You're here!!! I'm so happy!" <br />
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This kind of thing tends to happen in Zambia, when you want to see someone and just when you accept that it may not happen, you pass them while biking, see them on a bush path, or find them walking to your home. I offered him a chair, and we sat down. I gave him the collaged card I created, the photo I printed of him holding a shovel mixing cement in front of our half-completed health post, and the solar flash light I decided to give to him as a small token of my appreciation. He read the card silently, and spoke words of gratitude in Tonga. He reflected on our hard work together, and on his initial surprise at how a tiny woman could work like a strong man. He then paused, looked at me with his blue eyes affected by cataracts, took my hands in his and said in English, "I will never forget you. Never." My heart felt like it broke into a thousand pieces at having to say goodbye to Basibbuku Chinene, and simultaneously felt full of love. Love for this whole experience, for the people and places that have served as my home and my life for the past two years.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-52834402019762523332014-07-13T12:54:00.000-07:002014-07-13T12:59:47.759-07:00Letting GoThe process of letting go is almost always painful, particularly because it involves great amounts of change. When this letting go is of connections to people or places, most of us become fearful. We build communities, and when we leave their protective walls we feel raw and lonely for a time. We may feel a loss of familiarity and our sense of belonging. Simply put, letting go can be terrifying. <br />
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Although we can eventually transform feelings of loss into realizations of maturation, freedom, and growth, we have to sit with the scary and unknown consequences of change for a time. I will admit that I am currently in the throws of this process. How in the world do I move on from these two indescribable years in my tiny village in rural Zambia? How will I say goodbye to an entire community of people whom I consider my brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, and my best friends? How will I thank them all?<br />
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I hope that I sufficiently express the love I have for my niece Maya, the first baby I ever named whose smiling face has made even the hardest days worth it. When she comes running up the hill to my hut from playing with the goats and eating dirt just to give me a hug, I wonder if she feels me melt. I do not know how to fully appreciate my sister Ba Judith for pushing our clinic building project day after day for the past seven months, through illness and family obligations and an infinite number of village funerals. I do not know how to thank my sister Ba Erin for taking me into her hut during thunderstorms, or for killing five of the six poisonous snakes I have encountered either in my hut or hiding in my bag of charcoal. I do not know how to show the 72-year-old headmen of Chinene village how much it warms my heart to see him building our health post with his tired back and over-worked, calloused hands. It feels like there are too many people to thank, and not enough ways to thank them. <br />
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I recently had a Peace Corps friend who is at the beginning of his service visit my village. I showed him our building projects, our new preschool, and introduced him to my HIV support group. He met my Baneene, my host sisters, and my little nieces and nephews. He witnessed the heartfelt connections I have with my village, and his visit made me realize something important. My village and I have been thanking each other every day for the past two years. We have done this through working tirelessly together building a health post and a mother's shelter. We have lent each other cooking oil and candles, and we have spent afternoons sitting and talking out our problems under mango trees while shelling beans and cobs of maize. We have planted and harvested vegetables in the same garden, and we have waited out powerful storms under the same grass-thatched roofs. We have made each other laugh, and we have danced to the same music with chitenge around our hips. Some days we have annoyed each other, yelling too loudly under the mid-day hot season sun, and some days we have disappointed one another. But all-in-all, we have shared our lives, inspiring and loving one another unconditionally for 27 months. <br />
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I do not know if I will see my village in a year or in ten years, but I do know that we will always feel gratitude for the time we have shared and hope to share in the future. I can't make false promises that I will be able to call my host family every month or visit every few years. The beautiful thing about letting go, however, is that it doesn't have to be a black-and-white, permanent kind of change. It may be letting go of a certain type of relationship, allowing it to grow into something different and new. It may be taking a step back for a time, from a community or even from family, not to leave forever but to explore a more expansive sense of home. I trust that as long as I bring a positive perspective to the process of change, I will always be ok.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-32176926253129763732014-05-26T12:24:00.000-07:002014-05-26T12:24:32.708-07:00Ba StanleyBa Stanley, the man who built my new hut almost single-handedly after my first hut flooded, visited me the other day. I welcomed him to sit with me on my veranda, and we spoke about this year's harvest, about his garden, about his plans for re-building his home with iron sheets instead of grass in the coming months. We spoke about his neighbour who fell ill, he thinks most likely because of witchcraft (yes, this is still a strong belief in my village, and I try to work with this aspect of traditional culture instead of fighting against it). Then, he began speaking about the end of August...<br />
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Ba Stanley is one of the most hard-working, humble, honest men I have ever met. Each of his words, spoken slowly, softly yet deliberately, seem to hold strong meaning. He turned to me and said, "Ba Ashley, the day you leave, I will cry. The whole village will cry. You have really <i>done something</i> with us here. We are now moving and developing." My heart dropped. I explained that I would cry too. I explained that I would stay in touch, though I do not know how easy this will be (my family rarely has their phones charged, as electricity is far away). I told him that it was now time for the village, along with the next volunteer, to continue pushing the work I started with them. <br />
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I know that I will be forced to cope with some difficult realities when I leave Nachibanga. I will have little control over the development of my village, over whether it continues or slows. I cannot dictate what type of relationship the next volunteer with form with my family. And I have no idea when I will see my village again. All I can do is soak in every minute of these final months: continue laughing with Ba Erin when her sixteen-month-old Maya runs after me with two different oversized shoes on her feet; press sunflower oil from the seeds I planted with my family five months ago; and burn the images of mud huts scattered between dusty rolling hills that I see each time I go for a run or a bike ride into my memory. I did not know that I could feel this much love for a place and for a community. I had no idea that a family could extend beyond blood, beyond the borders of the place and culture into which I was born. All I can do is feel grateful for it all.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-53457145797639873902014-04-24T07:20:00.000-07:002014-04-24T07:20:16.242-07:00TransformationsThe sun decided to sleep for five days. April is supposed to be dry and full of sunshine in order to dry and harvest the maize; instead, the Earth decided to rain and freeze. In Zambia, I have acquired the perspective that if one day is difficult, the next day, a new day, will balance out the previous one. But we had to wait, shivering under covers and huddled around fires. I read Kerouac, went through weeks of thought in just a few days, and then sweated out yet another fever. But mostly, I felt the weight and transformation of these last months in Zambia take root in my body.<div>
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For the first time in my life, I do not know exactly what is coming next, and I am actually at peace with that reality. In fact, it feels quite freeing. There's no reason to be scared-- I am twenty four years old with the whole world to continue exploring and experiencing. I have a new-found trust that my spirit and the beautiful, supportive people around me will lead me well. As long as I continue feeling passion, love, gratitude, and curiosity, all will be ok.</div>
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In Zambia, I have learned when to push through a hard day, biking around from clinic to village meetings from sun-up to sun-down. I have also learned when to just take it easy, stay in bed an extra hour, take time to go for a run or simply weed sweet potato fields with my family. I have learned how to be sick by myself, how to be lonely and even scared in my mud hut by myself. I have learned to laugh at the men who try and harass me in town. I have learned that my village will do absolutely <i>anything</i> to protect me. It is all really indescribable, the things I have come to understand about myself and the world while living in this little village across the globe.</div>
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Our health post challenges are slowly working themselves out. Our project committee is finally taking more ownership of the building process, and it makes me happy to feel a bit of weight taken off my shoulders. Our pre-school plans are coming together, our HIV support group is strong and so enjoyable to work with (I even went to a meeting last week with a fever just because I knew the group would brighten my day). All in all, I am doing my best and letting go of the things I cannot change or carry alone. Development takes the strength of an entire community.</div>
Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-51339242068086310022014-03-15T08:11:00.000-07:002014-05-30T12:30:35.309-07:00On the Nature of Humans...Hello hello! I am writing as I visit the provincial house after a few weeks back in the village. Things have been busy, both positive and challenging in nature. Our Nachibanga Health Post is being built quickly, which is wonderful to see. However, I have learned through talking with many villagers about who is working hard and who is not. One of our builders, the quiet younger builder, has been working nearly every day from sunrise to sunset. The other builder (the one who was supposed to be "leading" the project) has barely been working at all, and makes constant excuses as to why he cannot show up for work. He speaks down to people (and if we were in America the way in which he speaks to women would not be tolerated) and is incredibly negative. We are running low on funds for the project (we are nearly out of cement), and we don't have enough to waste on paying a builder who is doing nothing. I decided yesterday with some committee members that this builder needs to be fired. <br />
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But in Zambia, firing someone is not a clear-cut process. Everyone is connected and related in some way, and I need to be careful. I will have a meeting with the headmen and project committee to discuss the issue, which is going to be difficult as many underlying feelings will come up in the process. At the end of the meeting, I will tell the headmen and committee that <i>they</i> need to call the builder and let him go, as this project is theirs. I know that I am a very sensitive person, and I need to try my best to not get caught up in the feelings that will inevitably ensue. This will be a big test of strength and personal growth, but I know that it is the right thing to do. I cannot allow someone to take money from this project, which is going to benefit thousands of rural villagers. I also cannot pay two builders equally if only one is doing the work.<br />
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I have realized some important things in this process. To trust people is a scary thing, but we do it because we need to. We are all connected and need to rely on others to survive. I personally trust because I believe that at our core, we as humans are inherently good. However, everyone has different motivations for their actions. Whether it is for survival, for love, for ego, for greed, we make choices in how we relate with others. Some form mostly negative relationships, and many form positive ones. As we get older, we hone our abilities to connect with like-minded people, people with similar spirits and motivations, but sometimes we must interact with people who we do not like. We must find a way to maintain our stability, our sense of self, and our sense of purpose amidst these challenging interactions.<br />
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On a positive note, I made home-made peanut butter with my host sisters! I bought a dollar worth of groundnuts (peanuts), roasted them, and then called Ba Judith and Ba Erin over to help me pound them with our wooden mortar and pestle. It took about ten minutes of pounding, and the peanuts became peanut butter! We didn't even need to add anything (just a bit of salt, and I also added a bit of honey) because the peanuts produced their own oil. The kids came around to watch and taste, and my sisters told me they hadn't done this since their grandfather was alive. It was a really meaningful passing-down of knowledge, and we also realized that we could sell peanut butter in the village once my family's groundnuts come up in April. The 5kg of sunflower seeds I bought for my sister to plant are beginning to burst open into huge sunflowers, and next month we will press and sell home-made sunflower oil. The fields of sunflowers we have in the village make me smile every time I pass them.<br />
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Love and light!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-58742071768547793272014-02-15T04:01:00.004-08:002014-02-15T04:01:48.303-08:00On Success and Failure...I recently arrived back in Zambia for my final 6 months of service. I had trepidation about returning as my family in America is going through challenges, and your thoughts and prayers for my mom's quick recovery mean the world. I arrived at my clinic and met with the builder of our health post (my second grant project) to find that very little work has been done on our project. I left absolutely everything in place for my village to complete the building, running around a month in advance to purchase all materials, appoint villagers and committees to oversee the work. I made typed lists and schedules for all 11 villages to contribute small amounts of work. Though I understand that building takes a lot of time in Africa, I did not expect so little to be accomplished in my absence. Our builder even vocalized the feeling of hurt he saw materializing on my face after hearing this news. <br />
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I reached my hut to find my bathing shelter completely destroyed by rain and cows, my outdoor "kitchen" knocked over, an infestation of wasps in my latrine hole, and an infestation of jumping flea-like biting bugs all over my hut (even in my bed!) I spent the night awake getting bitten by these bugs, and was told to return to the provincial house so that my hut can be fumigated. So I'm here, waiting, again. It feels frustrating and disappointing. I am trying to stay positive and find some gems of meaning. This is what I have come up with:<br />
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-<b>When you take big risks, the possibility of failure increases as well</b>. You need to be prepared for this, but at the end of the day if you give your whole heart, you must learn to accept that this is enough. The success of my second grant project is really up to my community at this point, but my first project (Ndondi Mother's Shelter) was a complete success! Mothers are now giving birth in this shelter, and the building has been incorporated into the community in a sustainable way.<br />
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-<b>When collaborating with others, you must be vocal about your feelings, both positive and negative</b>. You need to let them know if they have disappointed you. You cannot just have this weight on your shoulders alone; it's not healthy. If everyone is going to share in the outcome, everyone must also share in the process.<br />
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- <b>The balance between patience and pushing, particularly when implementing projects in the third world, is important.</b> You may have to compromise your expectations, but you should not give them up completely. You're there for <i>cross-cultural</i> exchange, for both learning and teaching.<br />
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... And that's what I've got for now.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-91362028067854873612013-12-10T00:16:00.003-08:002013-12-10T00:16:43.339-08:00The Good and the BadI am visiting America in two weeks. I do not know what to expect, how I will cope with clothing and grocery stores, lines where people do not push in front of one another, and transport that is reliable. I do know, however, that a month away from Zambia is much needed for my spirit. My days have become long and chaotic as I continuously try to motivate my villages to complete our health post, and as I set up all logistics for our projects so that they will hopefully continue in my absence. I spent ten hours in town yesterday shopping for grant materials, waiting on a dishonest transporter who decided not to tell me that he had a problem with his tire after half of our materials were loaded onto the vehicle. I fell apart after hour eight, slumped on the sidewalk, feeling completely taken advantage of for being a foreigner. I felt like a broken china doll, my body shattered into a million tiny pieces. I thought, "All I am trying to do is help! Why is this happening?" I realized that at the end of the day, there are both kind hearted and dishonest people in the world, wherever you go. The situation was resolved, but I personally felt quite defeated.<br />
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I believe in the goodness of humanity, but it is inevitable to go through days when you encounter people who have a very different moral compass than you do. My family in the village keeps me here, but there are always going to be reminders that I am not from Zambia. I love this place, and I need to just re-charge my battery. The hunger, the corruption, the environmental degradation... it all wears on you after a while. You feel stuck, like you have so much knowledge but no way to change the larger systems that are causing the suffering you are feeling at the village level. Grassroots development work is incredibly fulfilling because of the human connections and small victories that are possible... and some days it can also break your heart. Anyway, love to all and I cannot wait to see some of you very soon!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-45519244209061383932013-11-13T02:44:00.000-08:002013-11-13T02:44:06.306-08:00National HIV Prevention ConventionGreetings! I was invited to rapporteur Zambia's Third National HIV Prevention Convention with four other Peace Corps health volunteers, and it was quite an experience. The Vice President of Zambia, Guy Scott, and the First Lady, Christine Kaseba-Sata, attended and spoke at the conference, in addition to notable representatives from organizations such as UNAIDS, USAID, CDC, WHO, and many others. We spent much of the time running around note-keeping, compiling power-points, and helping to summarize presentations for the final resolutions presented by the National AIDS Council. It was incredibly interesting to hear about all the projects going on in Zambia, what has been successful, and where the gaps in programs and funding exist. While it was difficult to be reporting and to not have a say in the discussions taking place on behalf of our rural villages, we were able to make connections and see what kinds of discussions are being had at the national level surrounding HIV prevention, treatment, and care. All in all, the experience was a rich one, and it was an honor to be invited to such a large national event!<br />
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Thanks to the most beautiful support system in the world, the funds have been raised for my final large, donation-based Peace Corps project... Nachibanga Health Post! I am hoping to start the foundation with the builder and community early next week, and get things moving quickly before I head back to America for a few weeks to visit family and friends. As this much-needed re-energizing time at home approaches, I am both excited and nervous... excited to see all of the loved ones who I have missed tremendously, and nervous only because the reverse culture-shock is going to be intense (with all the electricity, hot showers, movies, air conditioning, and fresh coffee just in front of me!) Sending love to you all.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-44417038630631223572013-10-27T03:19:00.002-07:002013-10-27T03:19:23.882-07:00A Shift in EnergyI have been so busy with work in the village and apologize for delaying this blog post. These past months have been filled with the completion of our Mother's Shelter (well, near-completion, as the District Health Office has now decided that we need a larger veranda than previously planned), attending our midterm conference in Lusaka (where I got to see all of my friends with whom I first arrived in Zambia), and the start of our Nachibanga Health Post building. I will write about the highlights of village projects and progress, and about a few of the people who have made these successes possible.<br />
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<i>Ndondi Mother's Shelter</i>: It has taken 4 long months of biking up and down huge rocky, dusty hills under the 100 degree hot season sun, but we're nearly finished! The building is complete and looks incredible, but I will feel even more fulfilled once I see mother's beginning to deliver at our shelter. Two people worked tirelessly with me to direct the building of this Mother's Shelter. The first is Mr. Muleya, a tall, middle-aged Zambian man who wears a bucket hat and always carries around his secretary notebook. He is the man who first invited me to Ndondi village about a year ago. At the time I was hesitant to embark upon a project that required a 3 hour round trip bike-ride from my home, but he and the Ndondi Neighborhood Health Committee showed so much commitment during my initial visits that I could not resist. Mr. Muleya has shown up to <i>every</i> meeting, coordinated and facilitated countless headmen and large community meetings, and has never let me down.<br />
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The second man is the son of the Ndondi senior headman, whose Tonga name I unfortunately can never seem to pronounce correctly. He is the chairman of the Neighborhood Health Committee, so I always just call him 'Ba Chairman.' He is a softspoken, humble man with chipped front teeth and a sweet, kind smile. When asked to be the next headman he turned down the position, fearing that he would not be able to be as involved on the school PTA and clinic health committee. Anytime we encountered issues during the building process, he calmly thought through all possible solutions until advising us on the most feasible and effective option. Ndondi villages really owe these men so much appreciation for voluntarily pouring their energies into this project. I am so grateful for their hearts of gold.<br />
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<i>Nachibanga Health Post</i>: I was hopeful but realistic just a few months ago, thinking that this project would not be possible. Now we have completed the digging of the foundation for a small health post in my village. A few things happened to push this project along. About 6 out of 10 villages were initially on board with the project, working day after day to mold bricks. Then the district came in to promise food relief, as it is now the annual hungry season, exacerbated by the poor rains and maize harvest last year. The deal is that food will come from the government in exchange for the villages working together on a community development project. The villages unanimously chose our health post project, and now all 10 villages are working together before the rains become heavier to mold bricks, dig the foundation (both of these stages are now complete), and haul pit sand, river sand and crushed stones to the site. I have never seen so many villagers coming together in this way, every single day. Yes, this has been incited by the promise of bags of maize to make it through hungry season. But villagers are also seeing their power to create development and change in their community. <br />
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This health post will allow thousands of villagers to travel much shorter distances to access health care and treatment. It will alleviate congestion in the large Muzoka clinic 5km away. And most importantly, it seems this project is influencing villagers to take more ownership of their community's health and development. The power of community is unfolding right before my eyes, and it is indescribably magical.<br />
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*To donate towards building materials for our Nachibanga Health Post, please visit: <span class="userContent"><a href="http://www.peacecorps.gov/donate" rel="nofollow nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.peacecorps.gov/donate</a></span><br />
<span class="userContent"></span>and enter our <b>project #: <span class="userContent">14-611-001</span></b><br />
<span class="userContent">We are racing the rains, so if you are able, please donate any amount as soon as possible.</span><br />
<span class="userContent">Sending love and light to my support system back home! </span><b><span class="userContent"> </span></b>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-5541441297498441032013-09-03T01:53:00.002-07:002013-09-03T01:53:55.297-07:00Some Thoughts On Development Work...Recently I have realized that a large part of the "trudging through mud" feeling I am experiencing after 14 months of service in Zambia has to do with the nature of community development work. When I explain my frustrations to those at home in America, the common question is "why do you think these things are happening?" And every time I am asked this question, I am at a loss for words. The reality is this: <i>I still do not know</i>. After 14 months of intense community development work, I still do not know much. I have to admit that to myself at the end of every day, which is exhausting. I do not know why villagers either fail to show up to meetings, or show up 3 hours late. I do not know why the majority of men won't wear condoms, why 13 year old girls are getting pregnant, why so many women giving birth at home wait until the last minute to decide they are in an emergency situation. I do not know why the builder of our mother's shelter is working incredibly slowly and failed to show up to our weekly meeting... after I biked a total of 3 hours up and down dusty hills in 95 degree weather to meet with him. I do not know why, after I raised the money to fix our community water pump, our village has yet to form a water pump committee and neglected to tell me that one of our pipes has a fixable leak (I thought it was drying up). Deflection of personal responsibility, I guess. The <i>'it's just okay'</i> mentality. <br />
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It is the moments with my host family that keep me here, to be quite honest. It is the feeling that I have more love to explore with them. I do not want to give up on them, this village, or this work. I have glints of hope each day that the tiniest ounce of change can happen in my village. I still have that unexplainable intuitive feeling in my heart and in my gut that I am still supposed to be here in Zambia, doing what I am doing. One of my volunteer friends recently told me that I need to try not to take disappointments in my village so personally. I am working on taking disappointments <i>less</i> personally, but I know that it's not in my nature to just not care. And I hope that one day, this aspect of my personality and approach to life-long community development work will help to facilitate change, big and small. Maybe taking community development work personally means that I am meant to do this work, because I believe deep down that the people with whom I work have the<i> ability</i> to come together to create change and improve their lives. I believe in the power of community, and I hope that even this <i>belief</i> is what it takes to keep on keeping on.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-289313029791917602013-08-22T02:51:00.000-07:002013-08-22T02:51:05.810-07:00Mid-Service BluesI just spent the best ten days of my life with my first visitor to Zambia. The ten days were like a dream; we spent time jamming with musicians in my village, visited Victoria Falls, saw elephants within an arms-reach crossing the road, and took time to just breathe and reflect. Now I am back to the village for the second half of my Peace Corps service, and the truth is that it is <i>difficult.</i> My heart hurts a bit as I miss the people I love in America. I miss <i>home</i>. I miss the ease of transport, I miss access to electricity and running water, I miss the anonymity of walking down a street as another American instead of the white <i>muzungu</i> (foreigner). I miss access to various vegetables, washing machines, and new technology. I know the second half of my service is filled with exciting happenings, like helping to post the new volunteers to their villages, our mid-service conference, Camp GLOW preparations, a month-long trip home to the states for New Years, a trip to Bali at the end of March, the completion of our clinic's mother's shelter. And yet, I long to be back in the states. I know things will pick up, and I also know that when I complete my service, I will miss Zambia. So I will push through, and I will do everything I can to stay inspired and present in my village. Sometimes we must do things in the present that are both painful and beautiful at the same time, and this is one of those times in my service. Sending love and light to all those at home who are supporting me, inspiring me, and loving me as I continue my service in Zambia.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-89885897791528779332013-07-27T02:23:00.002-07:002013-07-27T02:23:43.958-07:00RealityPoverty in the village is a tricky thing to cope with. I must constantly tell myself not to feel <i>guilty</i>. Though I do live in a mud hut, fetch water and cook with charcoal just like every other villager, I am undoubtedly different. I make more than sufficient <i>kwacha</i> (Zambian currency) each month for transport and food, and can save a bit for vacation as well. I rarely have to worry about having enough. I get to spend four nights each month at our cozy provincial house in Choma town (this is in fact necessary for my mental health) with electricity, computers, hot showers, clean sheets, my American friends, and Grey's Anatomy DVDs. I can buy broccoli (sometimes) and apples from the grocery store when I come to town. And, in one year from now, I get to go back to America and get a Master's degree. <br />
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In my village, there are none of these luxuries. In my village, poverty has a name and a face. It is my brother Ba Sanford who works from sunrise to sunset herding the cows and working in the field, but does not have thread to sew the 10th hole in his pants (he uses recycled threads from a mealie-meal sack). It is my sister Ba Edith who has to walk five kilometers barefoot to the clinic each month to have her newborn Noah weighed and vaccinated. It is the malnourished baby (usually at least ten each week) who I weigh at the clinic. <br />
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It is difficult to draw a line in terms of "helping." I can write a grant for a mother's delivery shelter, form a Neighborhood Health Committee and Anti-AIDS Club at our village school. But I cannot ensure that the rains will fall properly this year to produce a plentiful maize harvest. I can help pay for my neighbor Eric's school fees through the exchange of his help with projects at my house so he can finish grade 12, or give oil and sugar to his mother Ba Erin when she is in need. But I cannot do these things for everyone. As much as I tell myself not to feel guilty, some days these harsh realities slap me in the face 50 times in a row. I cannot ignore them, and must accept that there are days when I feel absolutely helpless...<br />
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And then I see the bright smile of Ba Sanford as he greets me each day, hear the giggles of my village nieces and nephews and the Sunday evening drumming and dancing happening outside a nearby hut, or witness the love-gaze between my host sister and her young daughter-- and I know that everything is, as we say here, "just okay." <br />
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<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-2438909341953430042013-06-24T00:44:00.002-07:002013-06-24T00:44:15.185-07:00One Year ReflectionsI biked early from my village this morning, on a dirt road between a bursting golden, pink, and purple sunrise to my right, and the humongous white Supermoon to my left. The sky was an explosion of indescribable beauty. And as I celebrate one year of service in Zambia, I have had some recent tears that remind me of how beautiful this adventure has been. I did not expect to cry; after all, I have transitioned into a tough, I-can-do-anything Peace Corps volunteer. But these are different tears than I have ever experienced before-- tears of overwhelming happiness. They are my expressions of gratitude for the family I have inherited in Zambia, and for my family and friends at home in America. <br />
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My friend and I hosted the new health trainees for 3 days this past week, teaching them how to fetch water, cook on a charcoal stove, make a fire, give a condom demonstration in front of 80 laughing teenagers... you know, daily life in rural Zambia. On the last night, we cooked an "American" dinner of tortillas and vegetables for my friend's Bataata (a village Chief!), Bamaama, and counterpart (who must be a brother to my friend from a past lifetime, I am sure). Sitting with this family, gathered around the dancing candlelight with prayers and humble words of thanks filling the air, I glanced at my friend sitting between his Zambian parents. He looked like their son. I mean he really, <i>really</i> looked like he belonged to their<i> family.</i> My heart and my tear ducts filled to the brim. I told my friend's family what I was seeing, and how incredible it was. I then cracked a joke, asking how their son inherited his height, and everyone laughed. When I peered at my friend, I saw him tearing up as well. It was a night I will remember for the rest of my life.<br />
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It is in these moments, full of love and sharing and open hearts, that I know I am <i>exactly</i> where I need to be. My time in Zambia has not been easy, and every day has both its own challenges and successes. This work is <i>hard</i>, frustrating, and disappointing at times. Some days people will show up to meetings that will last 5 inspiring hours; some days nobody will show up at all. Some days I feel energized and on top of the world, biking from health talks at the clinic to Anti-AIDS club meetings at the school. Some days I am so exhausted, I don't know if I can make it up that last hill. But this is the most meaningful work I have ever done, not just in terms of grassroots development, but in terms of individual connections I have made. I am stronger, both physically and mentally, than I have ever been in my life. For this growth, for these connections, and for this crazy beautiful ride, I say thank you Zambia. Twalumba kapati. <br />
<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-53211427389743362482013-05-15T04:38:00.001-07:002013-05-15T04:38:20.827-07:00Momentum!It has been a long time since my last post, as I have been so busy in the village. The work has been exhausting, yet incredibly fulfilling. As I get further and further into my service, it becomes increasingly difficult to describe the ups and downs of daily life. My village is home, my host family has become an extension of my American family, and my house is feeling as close to "home" as possible for living in a mud hut. I sit with my host brother and the guys shelling beans, handwash my clothes and make my fire in no time, and paint sunflowers on my new house. <br />
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The first exciting news is that our handpump is finished! It took so much work and coordination, but we did it... thanks to a donation from close friends of two of my professors at UCLA, who happened to be in Zambia and visited my village. I am beyond grateful for their generosity, and as I sat down with my host sister (with whom I had been tirelessly going door to door to try and raise money to fix our water source) and told her the news, we both teared up. We did it! My hands are newly calloused from fetching water by myself again, but every time I pump the water into my containers, I feel happy and proud.<br />
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I have been working with a few new communities recently, and the momentum in my village work has sped up tremendously. I had called a community development meeting for all surrounding villages three different times, and only one man showed up. By the third meeting, I told this man that I wanted to visit his village, because he was the only one showing commitment. I visited his village a few days later, met his headman, and we called a meeting right there with 6 men and 6 women sitting under a big mango tree. There was a funeral going on at the time, which usually means all business as usual is called off for up to a week, but the headman respected my visit and took a couple hours out of the gathering for our meeting. I will be going back after provincial meetings and PEPFAR training (this and next week), for they will have already called a village meeting to discuss their top priorities and proposed projects for the future.<br />
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The most exciting new project has been in Ndondi village, an hour and a half bike ride each way, up and down huge hills. But the hills are beautiful (especially because most of our province is flat), and listening to my music (a mixture of pump up jams like 90s pop, John Mellencamp, and 50 Cent) helps keep me going. I was invited to this community by a man who is friends with my host family, and I met with him at the tiny Ndondi health post. This three-roomed health post serves a community of 2,800 villagers, with one nurse and a number of community health workers. One room serves as both a delivery room and an HIV counseling and testing room, so when mothers come in to give birth, patients who want to get an HIV test must be turned away. After holding multiple successful meetings at the clinic, and after feeling so inspired by this hard-working community, I decided to propose a grant to help Ndondi build a two-room extension onto their health post. The village is elated, because this extension has been in the works for over a year, but funding has yet to be provided by the government. <br />
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One room will serve as a mother's shelter, for expectant mothers and their families to wait before and after giving birth. Hopefully this shelter will decrease maternal and new-born mortality, for mothers will be able to travel the far distances from their villages in the hills to the clinic up to two weeks before giving birth. Patients will be attended to by trained medical staff instead of giving birth at home, thus allowing any emergencies or complications to be identified before it is too late to reach a hospital or a larger health clinic with a doctor. The second, smaller room will be used for VCT (Voluntary HIV Counseling and Testing). Hopefully more villagers will come for VCT, for they will not have to worry about getting turned away because there is no private space for testing.<br />
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I have been working non-stop with our newly created project committee (clinic staff and passionate community members and leaders) to complete the grant for our health post extension. When our grant is approved, I will provide a link for family and friends to donate through the Peace Corps website. With support from family and friends, we can raise funds quickly and get our project underway before hot and rainy season! Sending love to you all, more updates to come. Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-69532201386005487482013-04-24T02:33:00.000-07:002013-04-24T02:33:43.353-07:00Namibian AdventuresI just returned from Namibia, and though my pictures speak for themself, I will update as best I can! The journey was LONG, 20 hours each way on a bus from Livingstone to Windhoek. Windhoek, the capital of Namibia, is an incredibly clean, calm, friendly city. Namibia has one of the smallest populations in the world, because it is mostly barren but beautiful desert. The country gained independence in 1990, so the German influence is very strong in the cities and towns. The effects of colonialism are deeply felt but difficult to grasp, as Windhoek and Swakopmund seemed to be run by large German businesses, in addition to the diamond and oil mining industries. Poverty exists mostly on the outskirts of these small cities, as there is little water available far outside these cities.<br />
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Everything is much less expensive in Namibia as compared to Lusaka (though prices in the village are of course next to nothing), so I was able to buy fresh produce and funky accessories like a new yellow hat and yellow sunglasses for cheap! We rented a vehicle in Windhoek and drove for a day in the desert to Sossusvlei, where we camped and awoke at sunrise to climb part-way up the second largest sand dune in Namibia called "Big Mama." We hiked to petrified trees, saw the largest sand dune in Namibia ("Big Daddy"), drove past giraffe, kudu, ostrich, warthogs, baboons, and feasted our eyes on glorious canyons and mountains. We then drove to Swakopmund, a touristy coastal town where the desert meets the ocean. I hadn't realized how much I missed the ocean. The weather was chilly at night but scorching during the day, the sunsets were absolutely unreal, and the trip all in all was magical. My friends and I had a few scary experiences driving in the desert (I will spare the details, we are all totally safe!), as is transportation in Africa. Now it's back to work in the village!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-1573566627080659142013-03-26T04:21:00.001-07:002013-03-26T04:21:54.857-07:00Be FreeEvery day has been filled with stories, fulfilling work, and hilarious times in the village. As for work, we had our first Muzoka HIV/AIDS Support Group meeting on Friday. I was exhausted from being at the clinic all day, but when the 8 members of a previously formed support group (who dissolved due to disorganized leadership) sat with me under a tree to tell me their stories and their ideas for Income Generating Projects, I felt immediately re-energized that day. There were at least 3 times as many group members in the previous group, so as our weekly meetings continue, we expect to get many more to re-join. However, having 8 committed members show up to a first meeting was a huge success. These individuals were so comfortable speaking about their status, personal and community reactions to their status (including both discrimination and acceptance), and their frustration with the long distances they have to travel in order to get their ARVs. ARVs may be "free" in Zambia, but transport is expensive and time-consuming. We discussed collective income generating projects, and decided we would begin a community garden for the members to both eat nutritious vegetables, and sell these vegetables in the market. Next week we will choose a site for the garden, and elect members to various positions for the group. Our first meeting truly inspired me, and each group member was so ready to begin our project. We also would like to form dramas to sensitize the community on HIV/AIDS and safer sexual practices. The group members, who are all over 40 years old, told me it would not be a problem to show up next week with skit ideas. They were excited and began discussing costumes and drums to accompany the skits. I hope to eventually combine this support group and my Anti-AIDS club at the school in our community dramas, culminating in a Village Health Day carnival. I have also had quite a few villagers come to me to learn English. They sit on my veranda and bring schoolbooks to read together. Some are kids, some adults, some young adults who want to find jobs. I don't really find it to be "work," I just enjoy teaching. <br />
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I needed some alone time on Sunday, so I decided to go on a bike ride in the opposite direction of the route to the clinic. I found gorgeous rolling hills (which gave my legs a good burn) and a peaceful, quiet path to ride when I need to get away. I blasted my ipod as I admired the beautiful green untouched hills. In a few months the green will begin turning brown as the Earth dries and makes Zambia look more like a savannah. <br />
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My friends in the village are beginning to come to me as their friend, not just as a foreigner. They tell me about their family problems, their struggles. They laugh with me as they ask me why I am a 23 year old single women living alone without children (although the only "alone" time I have is at night when I get to read under my mosquito net). They also laugh as I try my hardest to speak Tonga (and I laugh at my attempts as well). I painted the words "Be Free!" on the outside of my hut, and they have really understood that my door is open. This village is becoming my home, and I fall in love with it more and more every day. It is challenging, exhausting, and I miss friends and family back home. I miss people showing up to meetings on time, I miss abundant fruits and vegetables that I can buy at the grocery store, instead of waiting to see what is available during the season at the market. I miss the ease of American transport. But I am grateful, and I try to soak my spirit in the beauty of life in rural Zambia. Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-19553608064251502172013-03-18T03:35:00.001-07:002013-03-18T03:35:35.657-07:00So Busy, So Happy! I am busier and happier than I have ever been in my entire life! Since being back in my village, every day has been a whirlwind, always moving. I have been back for about a week and a half, and already so many things have begun. Yesterday was probably the most exciting day. The water pump near my home, which serves about 30 families, has been broken for a year or so. My family has put so much work into rebuilding my home, and to give back to them, I really want to repair this borehole. So I spent time finding the man who knows about taking apart and repairing boreholes. He lives in a nearby village, and goes to the church not far from my home. On Saturday, I went to the church, but was told he would be arriving late. I went home to wash clothes and dishes, and when I went back to the church, I found him. I invited him to our village meeting the next day, a Sunday, at my home to make plans for repairing our water pump. I didn't want to get my hopes up on Sunday, so I spent the morning tutoring 3 girls in my village, knowing that my plan may not work out. Things have a way of both happening as planned and not happening as planned in Zambia (usually the latter), and you just have to accept whatever happens. Make peace with it. At 15:30 the man arrived, but my village was not at my home. I called the children to tell my village that they must come on time, as the man to repair our borehole has made a long journey and is at my home. They quickly organized, and the man with water pump expertise, myself, and 8 men brought our tools to the borehole to begin the job. The women and children gathered as we took apart our water pump. It turned out that the only things needing replacement were the bearings, some rubbers, and a nylon nut. I came to town today to price the items with the coordinator for the National Rural Water Supply and Sanitation Program, and the pricing is even lower than I expected. For the whole job, it will cost each family less than $2 (or 10 kwacha), equal to one bottle of cooking oil. To have water for years. Now, the only hurdle is to call upon these families to put together what they have to repair our water source. My host brother things it is very, very possible, as "water is life."<br />
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Other than that, I have started an Anti-AIDS club at our school, and after teaching the students about HIV/AIDS education, I would like to begin creating dramas with them to sensitize the community on HIV and safe sex practices. This week, I am also holding our first meetings for my nutrition program at our clinic for the most malnourished children (there are a lot of them at the Under 5 weighings, as we are still in hungry season and nutritious foods are in short supply), and re-starting the HIV/AIDS support group that once existed at our clinic. I have also been approached by many in my village and in neighboring villages about starting a pre-school, and will hold our first meeting for the pre-school committee in about a week. It is so much, and I have been running around like crazy, but have also not forgotten to admire the bursting field of sunflowers on my bike-ride to and from the clinic, the intensely beautiful sunsets, or sitting in my new mango tree at the end of the day (which I realized the other day as I was bucket bathing looks exactly like the tree tattoo on my shoulder!). I also take time to laugh with my friends in the village, A LOT. Almost every day. I used to be way more stressed in the village, but meditation amidst the chaos is something I have recently found. I have also been devouring books before I go to sleep, as well as writing tons in my journal. If you have any books you are finished with and would like to send my way, it would be so greatly appreciated. Sending so much love back home!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-18233697884959403182013-02-27T05:02:00.000-08:002013-02-27T05:46:11.738-08:00Safe and Staying PositiveI do not want anyone from back home to get too scared, but a few nights ago the house where I was staying with another Peace Corps Response volunteer while waiting for my hut to be finished was robbed. I heard noises in the living room around one in the morning, but thought they were just my roommate in the bathroom. Turns out, our house had been broken into. Luckily it was only my roommate's computer and nothing else. We were not hurt, and although the computer was a devastating loss (it had many personal files and photos on it), we realized that it may have deterred the robbers from entering our bedrooms. Peace Corps responded immediately, and we spent the next day at the police station. I am now back at the Peace Corps house, waiting for my new hut to be finished. I am set to go to my village on Friday to ensure everything is finished, and then move in on Monday. My new home, in addition to the packages I just received from family and friends, couldn't come at a better time.<br />
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Although there have been some intense happenings thus far in Zambia, I am remaining positive and happy. I have also received some inspiring e-mails from teachers and mentors of mine recently, which have also brightened my days. Sending peace and love back home!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-29066346040357666162013-02-07T15:33:00.000-08:002013-02-07T15:33:30.457-08:00Blessings in DisguiseMy new hut is almost finished! I should be able to move in by the end of February. But for now, although traveling to different villages has been exhausting, I've been able to do some incredibly successful programs that I will bring to my village very soon. I just returned from a friend's village where we had the most successful HIV/AIDS talk! The group was quite large, about 60 villagers gathered at a rural health post, and the individuals were both male and female and of varying ages. We first discussed the facts and myths regarding HIV transmission and prevention, and then we discussed "living positively" if you discover you are HIV positive. We also played a game at the end where I wrote "activities that can transmit HIV" and "activities that cannot transmit HIV" on index cards, and the group had to correctly place the cards into either category. They were so enthusiastic, and placed each of the cards in the correct category! We also taught a group of women how to make cheese, and they were so excited to make it for their families, and to possibly sell the cheese by the roadside since it is so inexpensive to make (and nutritious). I gave a health talk at the cheese-making demonstration, and after one of the women tasted the cheese, she said, "Wow! I already feel my body getting stronger from this cheese!" The whole day, though it was rainy and gray, made me smile.<br />
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I realized, particularly after the HIV talk, that this is the kind of work I want to do for the rest of my life. Helping to mobilize a village to facilitate in their action and excitement to improve community health makes me so happy, and fills me up. It makes my soul feel both energized and at peace, knowing I am putting my efforts towards helping villagers improve their own health with just a bit of knowledge and inspiration. I have so many ideas, and I just hope that 20 more months is enough time to see them through with my village.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-11939720425863986062013-01-31T04:08:00.002-08:002013-01-31T04:16:28.213-08:00Birthday UpdatesI'm 23! Don't feel much different than I did yesterday, yet 22 began what feels like an epic chapter that will continue to be filled with stories of adventure, inspiration, frustration, and beauty. The past weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind. After IST I moved into a temporary homebase, in Kalomo which is a boma (small town) 40 minutes south of Choma. Not really diggin the town vibe, I miss the quiet communal feel of the village, so I am traveling from village to village working with other Peace Corps volunteers on various programs. Just came back from doing a cheese-making demo at my friend's school, which was a success! Cheese-making, particularly as hungry season begins (in between planting and harvesting time), is a great way to improve food security, especially because at this time the cows are producing lots of milk due to the rains and abundance of grasses for them to eat. All you need is milk, vinegar or lemon juice, and salt to make village cheese! The kids really loved our cooking demo. I spent my birthday evening with this same friend, listening to music and enjoying the clear, starry, moon-filled sky.<br />
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All of the Southern volunteers had a giant January birthday party on Saturday. The theme was mustaches, machetes, mini skirts, and mohawks. Tons of fun and overwhelming celebration. Headed to a friend's village before the party to do a malaria prevention talk at the Under 5 clinic. The sun has been shining the past 2 weeks, so we bathed and swam in his river for almost an entire day. Got tons of vitamin D, which I have been missing in the rain! Headed to another friend's village today to do an HIV prevention talk in her class, and then doing both cheese-making and HIV education in yet another village next week. Then to visit a close friend in central province. Keep moving, that's my current slogan. I want to teach myself how to make fruit jam this weekend as well, so I can teach villagers how to preserve the abundance of a single fruit before it spoils (for example, now mangoes are falling everywhere, and many rot before they can be eaten). <br />
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Saw photos of my new hut... I can't believe how much work Peace Corps staff and my village have put into this new home! I am expecting to move in at the end of February, and I really cannot wait. I cannot wait to re-decorate my hut with paintings, wall-hangings, citenges, collages, photographs, etc. I am also planning a vegetable garden and kitchen compost, hoping to grow kale, lettuce, carrot, onion, and sunflowers. Hopefully the chicken wire can prevent the goats and cows from eating the vegetables! My new hut is located on top of a hill that overlooks the entire village, as well as the nightly golden sunsets. I have a mango tree, a bit more privacy, probably better cell service than I had before (which was next to nothing, so anything will be an improvement!), and hopefully a comfortable new home. Sending so much love to you all back home <3Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-2676174076323452532013-01-10T06:55:00.001-08:002013-01-10T06:55:09.199-08:00Changes Changes!I am currently in Lusaka at IST and have completed my Community Entry... I can't believe how quickly it went by! I am beyond happy to be with all of the friends I came into country with, and a bit sad that I will not see many of them until midway through my service. Let's see... I have a new hut being built because the flooding destroyed my hut, so I will be staying with two Peace Corps Response volunteers in Kalomo (a small boma) until my hut is finished. I want to get back to my village so badly, I miss everyone so much and I miss having a home. I am, however, excited to decorate my new home... the paintings and collages from my old hut may not make it in the move up the hill to my new hut, but I will make them again. Impermanence of things, and patience. I will be hopping around to friends' villages to do nutritious cooking demos, health talks, and will also visit the District Health Office and a number of NGOs in the boma so that I can bring back ideas and resources back to my village in a month (hopefully it won't take much longer than that, but time is elastic here in Zambia). <br />
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My counterpart from my clinic Judy and I have come up with a plan to have a program at our clinic where we take 10 to 15 of the most malnourished children from our Under 5s, have a cooking demo once a week where the mothers each bring an ingredient to a potluck and we will teach the mothers to cook balanced meals for their children, and we will monitor their weight gain. Once they reach their target weight (which I will collaborate with the nurses to determine), the women and their children will graduate from the program and we will rotate in another child and his/her mother. I am also hoping to start an HIV/AIDS support group at my clinic. I am so energized to get back to my village and begin working on these programs. Love you all!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565826430811043981.post-38774482761518005382012-12-25T04:07:00.000-08:002012-12-29T13:49:58.781-08:00Happy Holidays From Zambia!It's Christmas here in Zambia, and though I miss sitting under the Christmas tree with family, I am at the Provincial House with 10 of my PCV friends singing Christmas music, baking, and enjoying one another's company. We have a mini Christmas tree that we decorated last night, and though it's raining instead of snowing, it's a cozy kind of day. There are a few major things that have happened in the past few weeks, so I'll start with the good. I have given some really successful health talks at my clinic, mostly to pregnant women teaching them about HIV prevention, malaria prevention, and nutrition. I have an incredible translator named Judy who is also one of my really close friends at the clinic, and who I have chosen as a counterpart to take with me to Lusaka for IST in just 2 weeks. I am also hoping to start an HIV positive support group at my clinic, and I began mentioning my idea to the clinic staff, who seem to be excited. My clinic is by the tarmac and gets very busy, so I think this group has the potential to be successful! I would also like to do an income generating project with this group (particularly because of the wonderful location of the clinic by the roadside), so I am excited to get back from IST to begin this project. I have a trip to Malawi coming up after IST for about 4 days (plus 2 days of travel on each end, which will inevitable be chaotic), and being by the water with friends who I haven't seen in a while should be so peaceful. <br />
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On the flip side, I returned to my hut after a heavy rainstorm to find what I have been worried about since I was stuck in a flood in Panama some years ago... my home was flooded. Completely flooded, from the front door all the way across my hut and underneath my bed. This is not a usual occurrence, because most volunteers have huts that are elevated on a layer or 2 of brick foundation, and not located on a slope. My hut, however, is not elevated at all and is located on a slope-- not great for rainy season. So, I have to get a new hut built in my village. I have worked tirelessly to make my hut homey, putting up pictures and collages and shelves, spending weeks painting my walls and a beautiful tree on door #2 (the first door broke and this tree painted door resides at the provincial house). However, I will be grateful to be in a new home where I feel safe and comfortable, it will just take some time and energy. I feel a bit like a wanderer without a home; my mantra has been 'patience is a virtue.' I am trying my hardest to stay present, accept that I will feel at home in the not-too-distant future, and I am feeling appreciative that I have so many beautiful friends here who constantly make me feel like I have a home and a family whenever I'm with them. I know that the Universe tends to work in mysterious ways, and though the road now looks a bit windy and fogged, I'm still smiling and feeling grateful and loved. <br />
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For the holidays I wish for you to all feel thankful for family and friends, for sustenance, shelter, and love. I am sending my love to you all from Zambia!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05659848401340331458noreply@blogger.com0