National HIV Prevention Convention

Greetings! 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!

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.

A Shift in Energy

I 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.

Ndondi Mother's Shelter:  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 every meeting, coordinated and facilitated countless headmen and large community meetings, and has never let me down.

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.

Nachibanga Health Post:  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. 

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.

*To donate towards building materials for our Nachibanga Health Post, please visit:  http://www.peacecorps.gov/donate
and enter our project #: 14-611-001
We are racing the rains, so if you are able, please donate any amount as soon as possible.
Sending love and light to my support system back home! 

Some 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 still do not know.  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 'it's just okay' mentality. 

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 less 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 ability to come together to create change and improve their lives.  I believe in the power of community, and I hope that even this belief is what it takes to keep on keeping on.

Mid-Service Blues

I 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 difficult.  My heart hurts a bit as I miss the people I love in America.  I miss home.  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 muzungu (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.

Reality

Poverty in the village is a tricky thing to cope with.  I must constantly tell myself not to feel guilty.  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 kwacha (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. 

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. 

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...

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."

One Year Reflections

I 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. 

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, really looked like he belonged to their family.  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.

It is in these moments, full of love and sharing and open hearts, that I know I am exactly 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 hard, 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.

Momentum!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.