As I have anxiously awaited my turn to write the blog and tried to predict the rotation so I can know when to prepare for it (lol), three words have found their home in my mind. Vulnerability. Welcomeness. Honor.
Vulnerability. As our time here has progressed three other classmates and I (Sloane, Taylor and Ellie) have had the opportunity to spend our mornings in the Zambezi District Hospital. Words can truly not express the amount of gratitude in my heart. As most may assume, things are run differently here. One moment from my time there replays in my head constantly and has redefined what vulnerability means to me. Our very first day there, Ellie and I got the opportunity to go into the theatre, otherwise known as the operating room in the US, to observe a hernia be removed. As we entered the room we were met with an 84-year-old man, naked, awake, laying on a bed with 2-2×4’s holding his arms up. He had a transverse cut in his pelvis region. Tears welled in my eyes, not from this new exposure to flesh but from my redefinition of what it means to be human; not because of the sound of his muscles ripping as they dug to access his hernia but because of the fact that I made eye contact with this man and knew that he was also experiencing this moment with me. Tears didn’t collect in my eyes because of the lack of resources they have at this hospital but because of the strength this man, this stranger, showed me. Tears not because I was witnessing internal organs being cut for the first time but tears because we were allowed in this moment of sheer vulnerability and exposure.
In edition to vulnerability, there are many times throughout our experience, we have been met with an unfathomable amount of welcome. Numerous times we have been reminded that “we are welcome” by any member of the community regardless of where we are: the market, the hospital, the local schools, the church, in people’s homes, and countless more. And even by this unnamed man, laying there, exposed and still welcoming. It calls for inner reflection. Anyone who knows me, knows I do not do well when I am A) hangry or B) tired, but compared to this 84 year old man, my problems of being hungry or tired are minuscule. Why can’t I be just an ounce as welcoming when I am in slight discomfort as this man is in as he’s in undoubtable pain? Why do we hold so much resistance to letting people in? Furthermore, letting people see us at our most vulnerable and weak moments? The weak moments are blinded by the immense amount of strength shining through as someone exposed themselves just as they are. We hold so much power when we can learn to show up just as we are and welcome others just as they are. So as this paragraph comes to an end, I call you, the reader, to reflect on where you hold residence in your heart when it comes to letting people see you, as you are and in your most vulnerable state? And why?
Thirdly, honor. Today (5/31) would have been my grandpa’s birthday, the first birthday without him. My Papa was a man of honor. He taught me everything I know about honor and respect. If anyone knows anything about Italian men, they would know that honoring their family is a primary responsibility. Blood means everything and it is of utmost disgrace to present any member of your family in a bad light or share what may being going on in the household. My papa excelled in this field. He never gossiped, he always showed up as a man of strength and faith, and he never shared our familial flaws with anyone, even if it would have been completely justifiable to do so. Here in Zambia, family is an extension beyond the people who live in your home. Here, we are called “sister” and invited to call the people we meet for the first time “grandma,” “mama,” and “cousin.” In Zambian culture, family isn’t defined by blood. In Zambian culture, they honor their family by honoring and welcoming any and everybody with open arms.
Now as I’m sure you all are anxiously anticipating… home stays!!
These three pillars have remained true. We spent our morning out on the vast Zambezi River crossing to the other side in canoes about the size of an enlarged tooth pick. Here we walked the tight rope between cultural and ancestral conflict between the two major tribes of Zambezi, the Lundas and Luvales. There we met an amazing man named Happy who gave us a lesson on Zambian fishing etiquette and often reminded us that, “experience is the best lesson.” On our trek back across the water, Jeff tried his best to subtly rock our canoe. Once we arrived at homestays we were paired up and from there we each had an individual experience. Alea and I were treated to the “real Zambian experience” as we navigated the market at night, wore matching chitenge, cooked nshima with our host family and ate very small fried fish, called kakea and a relish called rosella. At every point of the way, we were welcomed, well fed and comfortable. Our host mom was easy to talk to and we found ourselves laughing 90% of the time. We even got to FaceTime her family from other parts of the country! We found ourselves feeling at home in her house and finding lots of similarities to our own homes in the US. I can’t wait to continue to develop these relationships and get to know Eunice and her super adorable niece, Daisy, more!
To my family, I love you all so much and I hope things are running smoothly back home! Thank you for your endless support! I miss you tons and I can’t wait to share all my experiences with you! And to my brothers specifically, please remember to lock up the house before you go to bed lol! I will see you soon!
With a part of my heart forever here in Zambia,
Kamy Epefanio
Nursing, Class of ‘27
Wow Kamy – Your reflection was so vivid and brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for this window into your experience and into your heart. It was really moving to read about your perspective shift after being in the operating room with the man who, even under his distress, was warm and welcoming to you. A lesson to us all to let go of resistance of letting others in. Thank you for that! It makes me so happy to see the pictures of you looking well. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you from Natalie, and can’t wait to meet you in person soon.
Kamy, I could feel the weight of the silence in that room, the power of eye contact between you and the patient, and the sacredness of being allowed into someone’s pain—not just as a witness, but as a fellow human. We typically think of vulnerability as a weakness but it’s a form of courage.
Caroline O., I can’t wait to hear about your homestay. I’m sure you are taking detailed notes in your journal. Love you and miss your face!
Kamy – Thank you for sharing such a beautifully honest and powerful reflection. Your words brought to life the deep emotion, humanity, and connection you’ve found in Zambia. The way you described vulnerability—not just as something to witness, but something to be invited into—was incredibly moving. Your experiences at the hospital and with your homestay family show a profound respect for the people and culture around you. The themes of welcomeness and honor wove through your story so naturally, reminding us all how much we can learn when we show up with an open heart.
To Caroline M – I am so proud of you and your classmates for embracing this experience so fully. I hope you’re soaking in every welcome, every moment, and every relationship. I can’t wait to hear your stories. Be the best you can be today and leave the rest to God. Love you!
Kamy! That was a beautiful post… felt like we were there with you in the OR. Love the picture of the ‘toothpick’ … it was pretty nuts to see how thin it was that it wasn’t visible in the picture, lol. The people seem so warm, so welcoming… appreciate how much you value that and are embracing it!
Weenie! If you can, go back and read some of the old blog post comments because I left you a whole bunch after the fact! I miss you so much and cannot wait to hear about your homestay as well! Hoping you are taking this experience all in and remembering every detail so we can rehash it all on the car ride home from the airport( I said that just for you:)). I opened my hugs the other day… love my cards, thank you! Can’t wait to hear your voice again!!
Kamy, thank you for these photos and your descriptions. Wow — you were present in the O.R. for a surgery — 2×4’s holding the patient’s arms up. What was that like for you two? Mia had told me she’d heard similar experiences from former ZamFam … but imagining you there with this patient and in this intimate/intense moment is something. Ellie, I am thinking of you also in there on your first hospital day, picturing your eyes above your mask grow bigger and wider. So vulnerable for the patient and each of you. I hope his surgery was a success and that he is healing with as little pain as possible. The photo with your home stay family, Kamy, is just beautiful. Radiant, really. What kindness and welcome you are all being shown. You will never forget this experience. And this Italian granddaughter thanks you for your post. (So true about Italian grandpas. “Provide and protect.” Yours certainly would be proud of you.)
Mia, the BPC play was nuts! Bennett wore a toga with gold leaves in their hair, their acting was on-point, and B got *many* laughs (you should have seen Bada’s face) and I sure missed yours as they sang all the ABBA songs from Mamma Mia. Yesterday morning was my second-ever Bishop O’Dowd High School graduation — this time, it was me in black gown instead of you (all faculty had to wear ’em). Couldn’t stop thinking about you & your 2023 grad. Hon, you have made beautiful choices since you were last in cap’n’gown. You’re not wasting an ounce of opportunity your Zag years are offering you and I’m so grateful, in particular, for the choice to go for CLP and proud of your choice to be in Zambezi. Blessings, both. I can’t wait to hear about your homestay and all of it. Know you (all) are loved, missed and prayed for daily. “1-2-3”
4:17 PM in Oakland. 1:17 AM in Zambezi.
xoxo, Elisa
What a vivid description of vulnerability and not looking away. Thank you for another truly extraordinary post, Kamy. The descriptions that you are all sharing of your experiences coupled with personal reflections is truly a gift that I am so grateful for. And I can feel how much you are taking care of each other as well. I love you, Lucia. I understand each evening as I read each post why you were so excited about this very special group of human beings!
If you are Lucia’s mom, Michelle: I remember your presence and words at the Zambia info session we attended during Fall Family Weekend. Thank you for what you shared then (and for Lucia). Your words and spirit about your daughter’s experience were so heartfelt and compelling. I’m glad we took them to heart! xo, Elisa (Mia’s mom)
Dear Zags in Zambia – another amazing post, I genuinely reflect on them throughout the day (s). Thank you for sharing the beautiful picture of your homestay family, what an amazing relationship to foster and build. Kamy, thank you for reminding us that we are all sisters/brothers in our relationship with God’s family, it’s a beautiful way to look at the world.
My dear Kathleen, still missing you like crazy. I’m sure people are tired of me talking about you and the insightful blog posts we get to read. The French Open is in full swing with multiple American’s in the 4th round, yes I’ve been watching (and playing) a lot of tennis over the past week. Mr Fluffy pants is laying across my arms as I write this – I know he misses your pats and kisses. Please be prepared to talk non-stop when you get home, I can’t wait to hear EVERY DETAIL about your experiences.
Kamy, thanks for the vivid storytelling, it is great to know what everyone is doing! What a crazy story about the hospital…that’s some intense experience. Sounds like the home stays were yet another glimpse into real life in Zambia. Most importantly, and selfishly, Karin and I were so excited to see Piper’s smiling face in the canoe… but why didn’t you have lines in the water??
Kamy,
Thank you for sharing such an empowering visual from the OR. I love that your takeaway was not one of pity for the state of the hospital or the discrepancy between health systems but instead one of admiration and appreciation of the vulnerability. That surgery sounds like a truly gut wrenching experience. I imagine you have had many similar ones by this point, and I admire you three for your willingness to put yourself in these uncomfortable situations.
Ellie, I still miss you like crazy. It’s torture to see your pinned text everyday and not be able to talk to you. I read all of these stories, and I can’t wait for when I’m at your kitchen table with coffee or wine from Coco hearing the vivid retell. So proud of you. You’re so cool. Love you so much.
Wow! Beautiful story. Miss you mona, hope you are having the best time ever and learning so much about this beautiful new place. I miss you more than you know and can’t wait to hear every detail of the trip. big love ♥️
Kami, thank you for your reflection and updates! I so appreciate all of you, your insightful reflections, and the gift of getting a first-hand glimpse into Zambian culture.
I’ve never in my life considered how others might experience surgery in different parts of the world. Reading about the humanity shared in such a vulnerable and painful situation was incredibly powerful. One thing I keep thinking every time I read a new blog post is how incredibly brave you all are.
Seeing you on the “toothpick” (haha) on the way to your homestays was another perspective I hadn’t considered, crossing a river in what looked like a toothpick, possibly with crocs and hippos nearby? Such a contrast to how I simply drive across a bridge without a second thought.
I also found it heartwarming and thought-provoking to learn how in Zambezi family extends far beyond the people who live in your home. I love how you’re called “sister” and invited to call people you meet for the first time “grandma,” “mama,” or “cousin.” That sense of community is something I want to reflect on more deeply here at home.
Wishing you all continued strength, joy, and meaningful connections as you finish out this journey.
Sarah – I’m so glad you chose “Always Connected”! Not only are we forever connected, but I wonder if this phrase holds an even deeper meaning for you now. We love you and miss you so much! Love, Mom, Dad, Nick, and Lily!
Greetings to all the Zambia Zags!
I am loving following along with your daily adventures. I am so happy that this opportunity is even available to you and for whatever it took for each of you to be able to say YES to this experience of a world classroom. I am humbled by your extremely insightful reflections. Your thoughts about connecting, being present, letting go, new perspectives, open lenses, seeds if patience, power of music, vulnerability, listening, vulnerability, empathy and affirmation assure me that your generation has deep respect for the understanding needed to embrace humankind with love and action.
Cherish these remaining days with your new Zambian Friends Forever and all they have taught you. Hang in there with your Gumby Moments and know that I am so proud of each and every one of you!
Carly’s Grammy
kamy that was such an amazing reflection to read! It is so crazy to hear that story about the surgery that you and Sloane and Ellie were present for. You guys are all doing something so cool and I am so so excited to hear about it in person when you guys get back! Soak up your time and know that people back home are thinking about you all and keeping you in our thoughts and prayers! CLPers you guys are so awesome and I am so happy for you guys and I cant wait to hear about all your stories in class. Ellie my neighbor i miss you I wish I could walk over to your house and you would just be there but I know you are doing something so impactful and amazing and I am soooo excited for you to be home! Mia I just went to San Fransisco made me think of you- miss you, keep living it up everyone! I cant wait to hear about all the stories, lessons, and adventures you have to share with us when you all get back (:
Wonderful write up “sister” Kamy! All of these stories remind me that there is so much to learn from other people and their cultures. Isn’t it amazing! I know it’s hard to be so far away from home, but it must help to be in such a welcoming and kind culture. The Zambian people obviously have scarce resources compared to us (and less access to premium healthcare facilities apparently) but they seem to have plenty of goodness to share with all of those around them. I love that!
Sorry to hear that you we’re missing your Grandpa on his birthday. Sounds like he taught you some of life’s best lessons and, even better, modeled them for you. Now it’s your turn to show others what it means to be honorable. Sounds like you’re well on your way and that he would be very proud.
Natalie – I hope your homestay was a good experience. Looking forward to hearing your post and I’ve been enjoying all the others as well.
Dad out! PEACE!
My heart is open and full as I am so touched and moved by your post Kamy ~ wow! Thank you for leading with your own vulnerability, welcome and honor. I’d be lying if I didn’t say my eyes are welled up with tears from the warmth and honesty of your one of a kind experience and these truly beautiful people in the ways that matter most. Such a gift this trip is, for all of you and I am so moved with the wisdom and maturity in which you Zags show up, can honor and take in all you are a part of. Life changing and not wasted on any of you. I don’t know most of you and sending love and appreciation to all of you for all you are sharing to help us be a part of this journey. ❤️ Jay – Mia’s stepdad