Gonzaga-in-Zambezi

Picture this beautiful scene. You have just woken up under the canopy of your mosquito net and jump out of bed, eager to put on your new chitenge, or patterned skirt, beautifully tailored by the talented Mama Mary in the market. It is Sunday and it is almost time for church. You have already heard the joyous music permeating the courtyard outside of the convent, and you are curious to see what worship will be like in Zambezi. You smell the delicious aroma of cinnamon French toast in the kitchen and go to sit in the grass to journal as breakfast is prepared, surrounded by a cacophony of chickens. It is the small moments and little observations that you make that mean the most to you.

We have only been in Zambezi for two short days. However, the moments we have shared with each other and those we have been fortunate enough to encounter have been beautiful. If you can remember from the very first blog post, in Lusaka we attended an art workshop at the National Museum. In this dialogue a prominent member of the Zambian art community, William, shared with us some advice as we embarked with intention towards Zambezi-let the community approach you. Our eagerness to meet Zambezi has been reciprocated in many acts of eagerness by Zambians to get to know us as well. The voluminous and overwhelmingly exuberant celebration of mass today reminded me again of the powerful welcome the community provided us on the tarmac with choreographed song and dance unique to Gonzaga and the presence of dozens of inquisitive, smiling children.

It is often easy to become focused on, and cling to, the grand gestures or large moments. Our lives are chaotic and busy back home with tasks and expectations demanding presence. Now, however, our intention is purely existing and being present in this place. So, while I have found awe and beauty in the expected joys such as the safari, Victoria Falls, or the feeling of our new home together, it’s the little things that I have come to appreciate the most. Zambezi is full of these little things. The smile on the little girl’s face that shows so much personality as she peers around the brick wall. The willingness of three young boys to help my scavenger hunt partner and me locate a grape soda in the market. The soundtrack of our convent as chorus singers at the church practice together in the early morning. The passion of the older man dancing to his heart in the front row of the mass service The EPIC dance of the altar boys as they move in unison to the resounding melodies. The phrase, “you are most welcome” reverberating throughout the market streets as we pass by clinging to the bed of our truck. It is in this element of noticing and receiving that I feel blessed.

While many community members are eager to attend our classes, asking about the logistics after church, or in the market, they too are facilitating the accompaniment on this journey. We have met some strong, inspiring, and dynamic leaders today. I wish that you all could experience the warmth, joy, and intention of Eucharia Saviye and Debbie Kasoma. Husband and wife, Eucharia is an experienced nurse in the district hospital and Debbie is an active teacher at the primary school, having started the ZamCity afterschool program to teach life skills through  sports and community building. Their love for each other and the Zambezi community is nothing short of inspiring. When asked if they knew of any other computers available to facilitate our classes, they spared no hesitation in offering up their own for our lessons—such profound humility. Again, it is the little things.

The sense of community that is felt here is apparent and moving. The willingness of sellers to collaborate to provide change for a customer. The dancing movement of each and every church member as they worship to the joyous music of the choir. The camaraderie of the women as the process to honor the birthday king. This morning, Father Phiri animatedly called us to be open to one another, forgive each other, and be present for others.  The support and reciprocity given to us by this community already calls us to continue to form and strengthen the relationships that are the foundation of our time here in Zambezi. It is clear that we have a purpose. We are home again tonight to turn a page and start another new, yet evolving chapter, fueled by passionate learning, a desire to walk alongside, with an intention to notice the little things.

Emily Bundy, Gonzaga ‘23

Once again, the Zags are in Zambezi! And at long last, Zambezi is more than an abstract prediction or our final destination, but rather a new reality and home. Our group remains in shock and awe of the community we are beginning to accompany.

If today, our first full day in Zambezi, is emblematic of the rest of this trip, I may just stay. It started with a run to the airstrip, where we welcomed our straggling faculty members Abbey and Catherine. Eva then a led a full abs circuit in the courtyard as our adoring fans, the children of Zambezi, watched on. After a full breakfast I walked 100 yards down the road to play soccer in the sand and the sun with the best 12-year olds I have ever seen. After my team casually lost 8-0, I searched for Jazmine unsuccessfully in the markets, so that we could buy needed but elusive tomato paste. We met and organized our search at lunch, but before I left, Mama Katendi handed me a knife, a bowl, and pointed to three chickens. As instructed, I quickly cut the heads off our dinner. Jazmine and I finally found our desired tomato paste in the ninth store we visited. After a long day, homework continued with reading about the principles of accompaniment and the drawing of a personal map of Zambezi. I can only hope to offer something in return to the glorious welcome we have received from this wonderful corner of the world.

We may have only seen the tip of the African iceberg called Zambezi, but we have already begun reflecting upon our early experiences here and the continued realization that we are on display: our culture, our skin. The children flock towards us in hopes of studying and feeling our strange hair, the skin of our hands, and even our ability to have fun. Only one thing is for certain; we cannot match them on the football field. Adults watch us and greet us or call out “Chindele!” or “white person.” Some occasionally inquire about the upcoming classes we’ll be teaching or eagerly beckon us into their shops. At all times I feel the need to represent where I come from but also try to adapt to this very new place. The overwhelming overstimulation of constant attention drags my consciousness in new directions, searching to find a solid base to work from.

Life within the compound and the lessons we learn from classmates and professors are hopefully beginning to build the base we need to thrive in Zambezi. We must begin to adapt to this small home to make it our own. We now rotate through needed duties like cooking and writing this blog, among other things. Our first reflection in Zambezi asked us what our hopes, fears, needs, and intent were for the next few weeks. While the answers differed, I could empathize with answers of each one of my classmates. There is so much we do not know or understand. Yet, we carry on and while each day brings new adventure with new people, we face adversity as a group and I am confident we are capable of accompanying this Zambezi community towards a hopeful future.

As we orient ourselves to this new reality, I am forced to ask myself what my purpose really is here. What gives me the right to teach something here in the first place? Our groups are meant to provide something needed in the community, but I ponder what I can teach people that I know so little about. I do not feel as if I have the answers to my questions, and many times even what questions to ask. There is still time to navigate and potentially answer these questions in our new home, but who knows where they will come from?

My first full day in Zambezi was wonderful, but I know we are here to accomplish something more than that. I hope to find it. I know we are here to accompany a community in hopes of learning and maybe teaching something new, but I and maybe others, must continue to search for our place in that process.

Our “vacation” in Lusaka and Livingstone is officially over as we begin to experience something we were always committed to but never fully believed would arrive. The nervous tension, ever growing as we neared Zambezi, shattered the moment we landed at the airfield and is now replaced by the vibrant vibration of Zambezi and our excitement to begin our work here. The grounding forces of the experiences and people that led us to this special place will hopefully lead us to new ones as we learn and adapt to Zambezi.

Paal Bredal, Gonzaga Class of ‘22

Victoria Falls is a waterfall on the Zambezi River and it is located on the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe. It is one of the world’s largest waterfalls, with a width of 1708 meters. As a Washingtonian myself, there is pretty much only one other waterfall I could think to compare it to, which is Snoqualmie Falls. I cannot begin to describe my astonishment when we first walked up to the viewpoint to see the most grand, extraordinary sight I have ever laid eyes on. If I were to estimate, I would say that these falls could equate to about 50+ Snoqualmie Falls’ – and for my Washingtonian readers, you understand how massive that is!

Yesterday was quite a spectacular day! After a morning breakfast of eggs, sausage, and toast prepared by the lovely people at Fawlty Towers, our group headed off to see the famous Victoria Falls. This attraction has been something that we have all anxiously anticipated from the first walk to our hostel in which we could see mist in the distance and wondered: are those clouds low in the horizon? Or could that possibly be one of the seven Natural Wonders of the World?

From every single viewpoint, you can see a rainbow reflecting off the side of the falls, presenting a unique array of colors to the already magnificent view. The powerful “whoosh” of the water roared in our ears from any distance. We walked along a bridge crossing the canyon and felt the mist against our skin. To the right were dense clouds of mist that were thick enough to mask the enormous falls, and to our left was a wide canyon with a splendor of green plants and trees amidst the rock walls. Prior to walking to the closest viewpoint of the falls, Jeff had warned us that we would likely get a little wet from the mist, but our clothes would dry off in the sun. However, nothing could prepare us for the sheer power of these falls, showering us with every step. Upon reaching the viewpoint, everyone in the group couldn’t hide their faces of joy and amazement. We all just stopped and lifted our arms out into the falls, surrendering to its beauty and letting the rains completely take over us. We lifted our feet and jumped in the puddles just like little kids. Some of us embraced each other with hugs, while others stood in awe. This was a moment that I will remember for the rest of my life.

From this joyous experience, most of the group headed to a bridge in the canyon that serves as a border from Zambia to Zimbabwe. This bridge also serves as an attraction for bungee-jumping, zip-lining, and swinging, which is what we were seeking to do. Around 1pm, after about a mile walk to the bridge we were met with some disappointing news: the staff had decided to take a break until 2pm and would continue their adventure operations after. Additionally, they were no longer serving any food. So, without any desire to walk all the way back to the market to get a lunch, we waited patiently and loaded up on granola bars and Coca Cola to fuel our tired and nervous selves.

And then it was time. Mackenzie, Emily, Ava, Tyler, Audrey and I all walked to the middle of the bridge for our terrifying free-fall. From our view, we could watch Eva, Jazmine, Joci, Sarah, Dugan, Andie, and Kalie zipline across the canyon from Zambia to Zimbabwe (quite literally!).

I was the very first one to jump off the bridge on a giant swing. With very little time to even process what was going on, the people working with this adventure company quickly strapped me in and dragged me out to the edge of the bridge. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to go. “Move your feet to the end!” They demanded, as I gripped their arms in terror. Just past the platform was a 413 foot descent into the canyon of the Zambezi River. One. Two. Three—Surrender.

I jumped, then fell. And fell some more. It felt like I was falling for eternity. Finally, when I was met with the cushion of the rope, I realized I wasn’t dying, but in fact flying in the most picturesque place I had ever seen. I spread my arms and legs out and screamed and laughed in delight. I couldn’t help but keep laughing. Looking up 413 feet above, I could see all my friends cheering me on. What a life this is!!

Tomorrow morning we embark on the real journey of this trip, as we will see what life outside of this tourist city looks like. None of us really know what to expect or how to prepare for this next step. But if there is one thing that we have learned thus far, it is that we just need to surrender and trust in the process. There are many things that are out of our control, but I believe each of us are here for a reason and our unique qualities are going to blend together beautifully in partnership with the community we meet in Zambezi. Thank you to everyone reading and keeping up with our journey, we can feel your support from many miles away. This is just the beginning of it all, and we could not be more excited.

–Katy Rettenmier, Gonzaga ‘24

It has been an exciting two days! As I am writing this, we are in Livingstone unpacking from our safari adventure in Botswana’s Chobe National Park. It was the most beautiful, inspiring, and perspective-altering experience.

Our group formed in the SeaTac airport a little over a week ago, so we are still figuring out the group dynamic and building trust. These last couple of days has provided us the opportunity to go deeper with each other. We now have nicknames, inside jokes, and the first beginnings of mutual trust and respect. The safari was a beautiful environment for us to strengthen bonds, create lasting community, and soak up each other’s company before our departure for our pursuit of accompaniment in Zambezi’s community and culture.

Our journey started with a boat cruise on the Chobe River—led by the charismatic and beyond knowledgeable, Mr. T. Wildlife on the river is lively, harmonious, and thriving. Each animal has a role, and they play it perfectly. The boat and the open-air Land Cruiser tour provided an ideal environment to observe, record, and bond with the animals and each other.

The animals—on the river and in the park—were as majestic, enchanting, and enormous as they seem in photos and media. Chobe National Park has no shortage of impalas, elephants, and giraffes. In the beginning of our tour, our co-leader Abbey said something along the lines of, “Impalas are the McDonald’s of the bush.” She was right; it seemed like an Impala was never out of view for very long. However, I learned to appreciate their comforting presence as time went on.

We were lucky enough to see a pride of lions feasting after a freshly made kill of Cape buffalo. That whole first day we were on the hunt for lions. It was approaching dusk as we drove endless dirt roads tracking them, but things felt different as Mr. T slowed our vehicle and said he smelt a fresh kill (I’m telling you—this guy was a legend!). We began to see other vehicles parked alongside the road and slowly 3 male lions came into view. We were so close! As we moved further along, we saw the buffalo carcass and more lions feasting from it. I expected to feel more sad or disgusted by the act, but it truly was beautiful. Mr. T explained it well when he said, “the lions are grateful to the buffalo for providing food for the pride.” As we drove away, we saw two buffalos lying under a tree about 500 feet away grieving the loss of their loved one. It was tragic, but somehow peaceful. “Life on the bush,” said Mr. T.

As majestic as the lions were, they could not compare to my love for elephants. Elephants are amazing to see in real life, in the wild. It is clear, they are wise, loyal, and family-oriented. We saw countless baby elephants with their herd, and their mamas never failed to shield and protect their babies from outside influence. We could see them playing, teasing, and loving on one another. Trust me when I say, many tears were shed.

As we sat around the fire at night and asked each other questions. My peer Kalie poised a question to Mr. T. She asked why he chose to become a guide, and in classic Mr. T fashion he responded with, “because I see and learn something new every day.” That stuck with me. Mr. T is a lifelong learner, and I think we all could benefit from his wisdom and the lessons from the bush.

Our time on the safari was beautiful and amazing, but it was also reflective and challenging. There is nothing more pure than seeing mother nature in all her glory, and Chobe National Park provided us all an opportunity to grow and think deeply about our actions and behaviors. Abbey might have said it best—as she sobbed at the sight of baby elephants nursing from their mother—”why can’t everyone just recycle?”

The Animals on the bush can teach us all valuable skills, and I saw unique traits in each species that reminded me of our own characteristics and values:

The strength of lions to take down prey,
the loyalty of water buffalo to mourn their fallen mere feet from their predators,
the patience of hippos to bask in the sun and float in the water as a practice of self-care,
the trust of giraffes to follow their tower blindly,
the ambition of impalas to always seek the strongest mate, and
the love of elephants to protect their young from any outside disturbance.

I wish—for myself and our community—these traits throughout our journey to Zambezi and beyond.

Nicole “TANJ” Perry
Gonzaga ’23

Hello from Livingstone! Today we had another busy schedule that continued to enlighten and challenge us. Again, we were encouraged to partake in genuine and, sometimes, difficult reflection, making our time here that more meaningful.

In the morning, after our lovely breakfast at Fawlty Towers, we participated in a guided tour at the David Livingstone Museum, just up the road from us. This tour was intended to last about two hours, but like any other valuable thing in life, it took time. More time than we initially gave it credit for. We left the museum four impactful hours later, and I was feeling both in awe and unease.

The tour included information on human evolution, cultural practices, Zambian history, and David Livingstone, a white, British missionary. He made three trips to Africa in his lifetime, passing away during his third, and eventually becoming the man that the city of Livingstone is named after. I came in with an expectation that David Livingstone, a colonizer, would be depicted with the same connotation that we hold for those individuals. However, he was held in a much more positive light. Not only is the museum named after him, but there is an entire section dedicated to him and his three excursions. For me, this was the beginning of a greater realization.

Throughout the entire tour, but especially David Livingstone’s section, our tour guide did an exceptional job providing the facts. She explained historical events, their effects, and the reactions met with them. And the level of knowledge that she shared – it left me speechless.

Multiple thoughts flew through my mind. First, there was not one point in the tour where I felt I was being told how to feel, or that information was not being shared. Yet, it also became clear the emotions held with each topic being discussed. We were receiving the truth – all the good, the bad, and everything in between. It was refreshing. Second, our tour guide was so incredibly knowledgeable of Zambian history. Granted, it is her job, but there was a uniqueness to the way she interacted with us and the history she presented that stood out as distinctly special.

At one point in the tour, we mentioned our upcoming journey to Zambezi, and her face lit up in response. She jokingly said, “take me with you!” this interaction was revealing in the fact that while we are having this spectacular opportunity to travel across the country, various Zambians do not have that same chance. But in no way are we any more deserving than our tour guide to have that experience. So, in that sense, it was a nice reminder of how privileged we are to see the things we’re seeing, and to feel the emotions we feel.

Leaving the museum, once the awe sunk in, I began to feel another realization. There has never been a point in my life where I could explain American history to the point our tour guide did. I simply do not know it well enough, nor have I carried a sense of urgency to thoroughly know it. But ironically, I believe that there is a significant importance on knowing history to grow from it – to learn from mistakes, and to celebrate the ways in which perseverance unfolds. Our tour guide provided a sense of pride for the history. I saw this pride especially when she was explaining the meaning of the Zambian flag. The colors – green, orange, black, and red – all represent something. Green for the agriculture, orange for the minerals, black for the black population, and red for the bloodshed spilled while fighting for independence. This importance for and pride of history shown by our tour guide fittingly manifests in her beautiful name, Memory.

This idea of being proud of one’s country is not foreign to me, nor would I say it is foreign to the rest of our group. However, I do believe there is a difference in what that means for us, especially in a foreign country. We all know the rude and ignorant American stereotype. We have seen it first-hand while we’ve been here – by other American travelers, and even ourselves, unintentionally. It is real, and it is something I expect our group to continuously tackle during our time here.

Later in our day, we made a trip to the Royal Livingstone Hotel, right on the edge of Victoria Falls. Here we had a traditional British High Tea with delicious sweets. On our way there, myself and seven others had a very genuine conversation with our van driver, Charlie. He spoke of his family, smiling with every word. He shared the importance of his grandmother, his Gogo, to him. He told us the wise advice she gave him when dealing with rude or inconsiderate customers, specifically American ones. Her advice was, “try to understand their perspectives and your life will be easier.”

I think it’s safe to say hearing that required a moment of thought afterwards. Such a simple sentence yet the intentionality behind it is so powerful. Taking that moment’s notice to try and understand one’s perspective, regardless of its connection to our own – it can change an interaction entirely for both parties.

Keeping that mentality in mind, we arrived at the hotel that is undoubtedly breathtaking and unlike anything most of us have seen before. The edge of the property is met with the rushing Zambezi River, Victoria Falls’ mythic mist is in sight, and animals such as giraffes, zebras, and impalas roam the grounds. The buildings were similar to ones in America, appearance wise. Honestly, it would be safe to say that we felt a form of familiarity when we were there. However, after that initial wave of excitement and wide-eyed curiosity, a few of us began talking about how the hotel did not even feel like the Zambia we have come to know so far.

After that, it became clear that staying in this hotel would mean easy access to a bubble that prevented any relationships with local cultures, locations, and people that have quite literally made our entire journey what it is thus far. What then, is the purpose of this hotel? To me, it did not feel like it was for the purpose of our trip – standing in accompaniment with others in which we are equally growing and benefiting; serving in tandem.

Then I thought of the museum and the conversation with Charlie. Memory showed so much excitement that we are going to Zambezi, unlike many other tourists who come. This is not to “pat us on the back” by any means, but to show the reality of the practice American tourism. It’s disappointing that it is not expected for Americans to want to know the culture, to want to immerse ourselves. And that disappointment is only amplified when asking Charlie if he experiences rude Americans often, and his answer is “yes.”

Our time here so far has introduced us to so many thoughts and emotions, but I feel that today has been the first day we’ve had to genuinely and directly address the implications involved with traveling as Americans. The assumptions about us our valid, but how do we challenge them? How do we serve in tandem when the expectation is us wanting to be served? I’m excited to find the answers to these questions, to tackle all the challenges, and to grow with the experiences.

Kiso Mwane, Eva Palmer (’23)

Yesterday morning at breakfast, Jeff asked us who wanted to be the first one to write a post for the blog. I remember thinking “wow, whoever volunteers for this is so brave, I could never do something like this,” as starting off this blog for our Zambia journey is a lot of pressure, something that makes me uncomfortable. However, for some reason I look to my side and my right hand is up in the air, and I see Jeff with a big smile on his face saying, “Sarah will be starting us off!”.

This is what this journey is about, the uncomfortable. Pushing ourselves outside of our own comfort zones is how we will truly connect with the communities we encounter, and what will let us make the most out of this once in a lifetime opportunity.

It is now our 3rd day in Zambia and as I write this, I am on a 7-hour bus ride full of Zambian individuals, along with our Gonzaga cohort, with the sound of popular African music playing in the background. We are on a journey from Lusaka to Livingston, giving me a chance to reflect on the whirlwind that has been the past 2 days of rich cultural and learning experiences, completely surpassing what I expected the start of this trip to be like.

After a long day of travelling to Zambia and keeping ourselves busy to overcome the combination of sleep deprivation from the two days of traveling and jet lag, we began our first full day in Lusaka sharing a meal of fruits, avocados, teas, and other assortments of breakfast items prepared by the wonderful staff at our hostel. We reflected over what we’ve experienced upon arrival, talking about the pure smiles of everyone we’ve met to the intrusive feeling lots of us have felt, of being foreigners in a country’s whose culture is very different than the one we grew up in. We finished our breakfast talking about our excitement to begin establishing connections and learning about life here, packed up and hopped on our bus to tour the University of Zambia.

We met up with Michael and Gilbert, old friends of Jeff and Josh, who both grew up in the Zambezi community, moving to Lusaka for university. We began with introductions, learning that Michael is studying engineering at University of Lusaka and Gilbert is graduate school studying medicine at a nearby university.

As soon as we stepped through the gates of the university, I was shocked when I realized that we were on a college campus, followed by a sense of guilt when I realized my surprise stemmed from my privilege of being able to go to a private school in the United States. The entrance was rather bare with a few trees on the dirt pavements, with a couple old buildings to the side with laundry lining the sides.

As I continued to observe my surroundings, I saw students with their books in hand, walking down campus talking to their friends. I immediately could see myself walking down bulldog ally talking to my friends about classes and whatever was going on that day. I experienced my second uncomfortable element of surprise, that these students were my age. However, I later realized that although they were college students just like us, Zambians that go to college make up a mere 1% of the population. I found it difficult for me to relate to their experience when since birth, it was pretty much certain that I would get to go to college when here going to college, something that I think a lot of us take for granted, is extremely rare.

We continued to tour the campus and Michael and Gilbert answered questions from us. I asked Michael what the most popular major is, and he answered by telling us that it depends because people only major in things that guarantees them a job. This makes health and education very common because these fields usually have more job openings. This made me think a lot about how majors work in the U.S. Of course, people typically chose majors that will help them get a job after college however, due to how different the job market is at home compared to here, we still have a large variety of options. I never realized how lucky I was just to be able to major in what interests me and that not everyone has that privilege.

After the tour, we were supposed to have a quick lunch and then go to a talk at an art gallery. However, in Zambian fashion, that quick lunch lasted two hours. By the time we were done the gallery was almost closed. However, we were able to make it to the last, supposably couple minutes, of the talk which of course lasted about another hour. There were extremely intellectual artists, who were able to take their art to extreme depths. Upon learning that here was an American group going to a rural African village in the audience, one of the artists made a comment about the importance of waiting for people to ask us what we’re doing there. This stood out to me and another member of our Gonzaga group; Tyler, so we decided to ask him about it after the talk.  

This man is named William or Miko, which he told us means cooking sticks. He explained to us that it’s important to let people come up to us and ask what we’re doing there instead of just coming into the community and telling everyone what we’re doing there. He said upon getting there, people are going to want to get us a chair and food or drink before they sit down with us and ask what we’re doing there. There’s a cultural importance of letting people host us and ask about who we are. In a way, we are foreigners interrupting their daily life so it’s important to keep this in mind as a sign of respect.

His last comment was a suggestion to us to ask others how much money they make in a year. He said they will not know, which shows how little people care about money compared to the money focused mindset in the U.S.

William then introduced us to an American women named Betty. She was born in the U.S and came to Zambia to work for 6 months but ended up never leaving. She explained to us about how she fell in love with the culture and how community oriented it is, as opposed to the mindset of individualism encompassing the U.S.

She gave us advice for how to approach the rest of our time in Zambia and emphasized the importance of listening in their culture. She encouraged us to listen to everyone’s story and to always continue asking questions, with being careful that we’re not only talking about ourselves.

In these past few days, we’ve learned so much about the importance of the simple act of learning others’ stories. I look forward to continuing that as we journey to Livingston, our last stop before our 3 week stay in Zambezi.

Sarah Barsky
Gonzaga 2024

To our dear family, friends, and supporters: we’ve arrived in Lusaka. After over 20 hours in the air and well over 10 more in airports, we arrived safely in Zambia this morning. We met up with longtime friend of the Zags, Dominic Mizhi Sandu, had a chance to change money and shared a wonderful first lunch. All are well and looking forward to a night of rest after a dinner in Lusaka’s historic Show Grounds. We are excited to share this journey with you through our blog and will start posting daily tomorrow!

Kisu mwane,

Jeff Dodd

Assistant Professor of English at Gonzaga

Tambokenu, mwane.  Welcome back to the Gonzaga in Zambezi blog.  In May 2007, Gonzaga University and the Zambezi, Zambia community wrote the first chapter of our partnership, a relationship rooted in the ethic of accompaniment.  This practice of accompaniment asks each Gonzaga student (now 300+) to walk in solidity with Zambians as they move to greater levels of community self-sufficiency and personal empowerment.  Through community engaged projects, students and faculty strive to operate at eye-level with this rural community in opposition to the “savior complex” of many short-term international tours.

After a pandemic pause since 2019, we are excited to write the next chapter of accompaniment with our friends and mentors of Zambezi.  On May 18, 2022, a team of 18 undergraduates and four faculty/staff will embark on a five-week study abroad program.  Our program is rooted in relationships and we are thrilled to reunite with friends, young and old, that have hosted and taught Zags for more than fifteen years.  If you are unfamiliar with the Gonzaga in Zambezi program, I encourage you to watch the 2 minute video below.

We hope you will follow along during the next five weeks as Gonzaga students reflect daily on their experiences in Lusaka, Livingstone, Botswana and Zambezi. We invite you to comment below each blog post (we will read each one) and let us know what you are learning through our words.  If you are an alumni of the program, we hope you will share a memory or greet a friend in Zambezi. 

For returning faculty and staff, our travels in Zambia have been transformative and we await the journey ahead, knowing the stark hardships and deep joy that this next chapter holds. I want to leave you with a stanza from Irish poet John O’Donohue’s For the Traveler blessing:

Hello all family and friends!

I am posting this from the Dubai airport (we made it!) but have been writing while settled into seat 44F next to the one and only Bryce Joshua Kreiser. Many of my peers are queuing up the movies they plan to watch, devouring a book, or chatting up a fellow zag or new seat mate. That is, except for Preston Matossian. From what I can see, this earnest friend of ours is finally catching his breath and a few laughs after his sprint from security to the ticket counter, back through security, and to Ethan waiting patiently for him at our gate to be some of the last to board the plane. Why? You might be asking. Well friends, let me tell ya. Preston was notified at the back end of security that the not one, not two, but THREE axes packed in his carry-on luggage would not be suitable to accompany him aboard our plane tonight. Fortunately, he had plenty of time to declare and check all three weapons and get into his seat before Daniel would have lost his seat mate and Ethan would have spent some quality time with Preston and the Flying Missions pilots.

Following the ax debacle, this second flight of the day has been notably more still than my first. Partially because we are in a Boeing commercial airliner instead of this morning’s six-seater bush plane, but mostly because plump and endless crocodile tears aren’t pouring down my face the way they did this morning. The first hour or so of this morning’s flight was spent clinging to my sweet seat (& suite!) mate Ellie as we both let ourselves cry. I’m talking ugly cry. I’m talking weep. Oh yes folks, I said it, weep.

As mentioned in the earlier blog authored by the aforementioned Presto, I had been feeling some type of sentimental way, and shared a song called Linger from my scouting childhood with the whole of our group and our guests at the Accompaniment Dinner on Saturday evening. This song is one that’s been stuck in my head and heart over the last few days as I kept wishing to linger a little longer in Zambezi. As Preston already relayed, the lyrics end with: “And as the years go by, I’ll think of you and sigh, this is goodnight and not goodbye.” Today on the flight out of Zambezi, I wished so badly for this to be the song that ran circles around my head. Instead it was my friend Jessie’s beautiful song she sang both at the Chileña farewell party and the Accompaniment Dinner. The sound of Jessie’s voice so powerfully echoed inside my head: “The time has come to say goodbye, the time has come to say goodbye. We hope to meet, rejoice again, hope to rejoice again.”

Each new day in Zambezi, I felt a string in my heart tie itself to any person, place, feeling, or event it felt called to knot itself up with. Some strings, like the one that will always tie me to Chingalala or the market, reflect the width and surprising strength of the twine we used to hang the art projects in the grade seven room. Some strings were as sturdy as the bungee cord I trusted with my life just a few short weeks ago. I think this strong bungee is the kind of string that will always tie my heart to Mama Katendi and to Chileña. Another heartstring resembles the knots tied around my ankle in the form of an anklet that matches the bracelet of one of my students who I grew particularly close to. This morning as we flew into the sunrise towards Lusaka, I felt the tension pulling on each of the strings in my heart now tied to hearts in a place that I am going so far from.

In my pocket is a bow made as a remembrance by the student whose wrist matches my ankle. Each time I run my finger over its cotton, I find myself turning over the question, what happens when goodbye comes? What happens when we can’t linger in a place anymore? How can you linger so many miles away from people who have tied their heartstrings to yours as you’ve tied yours to theirs? If you even should, how do you guard yourself from the pain of attachment or the fear of futility? When you so badly wish you could linger, for only a little longer, but you can’t, is it grief you feel?

I don’t know. I really don’t, and I’m hoping that’s okay.

I do know that accompaniment, friendship, companionship, and kinship -this partnership involves a certain empowering and life-giving mutual indebtedness to one another. That the closeness that has followed from seeing, knowing, and loving each new friend to the best of my ability given the time I have, no matter how much it might hurt when those heartstrings pull, gives way for the tightening of a bond, of a knot in the heartstrings of people connected over space and over time. I do know per the demonstration of the Deputy Headmaster at Chileña Secondary that just as you cannot separate Coke poured into Fanta, Gonzaga cannot be separated from Chileña. We ultimately are one. Our liberation, just as now our heartstrings, are bound together.

This may have been one goodbye, but I will linger in Zambezi, and Zambezi will linger in me. I will linger as the future Gonzaga students who keep writing chapters in our story. Zambezi will linger in my heart as I travel to and love each new place, and each new person. I will linger in the hot air balloons that each of Isaac and my almost 70 students so artfully created. Our students will linger in the moose song; each time I sing it (which is more often than you think) they will be there. I will linger on the wrist of my student, she will linger on my ankle. I will linger in the memories of those whose heartstrings are now tied up in bows, knots, and vines around mine, and those same people, places, events, and feelings will forever linger in my memories, in my heart.

Gratefully yours world!

Kisu Mwane,

Leila Lewis ‘21

Goodbyes: not always easy to accept, never saying exactly what’s desired or wanted. Only attempting to convey the love and appreciation felt along this amazing, yet tumultuous month-long journey. Hopping on bush planes tomorrow, beginning the long, airborne journey home to the United States, I can’t help but feel a lack of closure.

I would be outright lying if I said I have loved the entirety of this trip. Day 4 of computer classes hit hard. Leaving times of welcoming lectures and class expectations, the computer team navigated ways to build connection and teach all of our students. Mind you, with around 25 students per class, 3 classes, and about 10-11 computers depending on the given day and whether those said computers decided to work, this was not an easy task at hand.

Starting computer lessons about Microsoft Word, we gave our students a project about family members. Type about each member of your family in a word document and save that file. Simple enough, right? Not quite, because the lowest number of family members was deemed to be around five and the speed of users was estimated to be around three words per minute. Joel, a member of the first class, similar to me in age, raised his hand to ask about the finger placement on a keyboard. Eager to make conversation with my students, I began to ask him about his life, family and goals. What I did not expect was the conversation of kids and parenting. We chatted about his two children and how being a father has shaped him into the man he is today. The theme of young parenting was present throughout the lessons, even with girls in grade school, coming to lessons in their school uniforms. “You don’t have any kids?” they would ask, “Do you not want any?” It seemed to be common culture for young mothers and fathers to raise children as single parents, the family dynamic of ‘a village raises a child’ in full swing with masses of kids hanging out by the gate, around our classroom and playing around the community.

“Do you have kids? Aren’t you my age?” I would ask in return. This always was followed with giggles and laughter, continuing on with lessons and sharing of stories. But deep down I felt a pit in my stomach of discomfort and uneasiness. How will I be able to fit into this hot-climate culture and a place so unlike my own? With the intention of walking “with” people, how are these relationships supposed to develop when lifestyles completely differ to the point of doubts and insecurities developing?

Later that day, grappling with how I was going to be integrated into this community, growing and learning about myself the way I was anticipating, I remembered a quote from one of my favorite artists addressing the issue of normality.

“Normality is a paved road. It is comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.”

– Vincent Van Gogh

The sandy pathways of Zambezi represent the journey that we have made to a different climate, culture and routine. A complete opposite of a paved road, Zambezi caused some instability within the first few days. I was slipping, getting stuck in the sand, trying to gain footing and balance, walking in a community that I feel starkly opposite from, not only in my appearance, but also in many of my values and lifestyle.

However, day by day, walks to the market did not seem as daunting. I knew the path, could walk decently through the sand while still holding conversation and even started to say hi to new friends at different shops as well as my students that I ran into. My flowers of kinship in the sandy walkways of Zambezi had started to sprout and I was giddy with excitement to nurture and tend to these newfound relationships.

 But what happens now that these relationships started developing? Digging deeper into my journal writing and my fellow Zags in conversation, I realized my deepest fear on this trip, one that I described, handing my rock to Leila and Regan, which Leila labeled perfectly. The fear of attachment. I love with my whole heart. Some may say this is a strength or a weakness: that is up for debate. But, I love deeply, susceptible to pain and brokenness when that is taken away. But I knew I was leaving. I have always known that I was going to be leaving. And that was the most painful weight on my heart and obstacle in making and forming these relationships. My fear of not making connections soon disappeared with continuous conversation and vulnerability. Language differences became just but a small barrier as I dug deeper into my students and friends. But the nagging countdown of days left in my head stuck as I went through lesson after lesson, market run after market run. I had gotten my footing in the sand, having relationships sprout up with every step, blooming into wonderful stories that I will keep in my heart, but the deadline until goodbyes haunted my thoughts, knowing that they were inevitable.

Our group is not meant to stay here forever. Goodbyes are meant to happen. Our time here is only but a chapter in the book of Gonzaga’s relationship with Zambezi. New chapters will be added with future groups of Zags and faculty, there will be new stories, new relationships, new struggles. Some characters in these new chapters will be returners, but some will be fresh, stepping into the sandy pathways with chances to grow and flourish.

As our time here in Zambezi has come to an end, this does not mean that the 19 of us will stop growing. Am I feeling a sense of closure as I spend my last night in Zambia writing this blog to all of you? No. Far from it. However, even though our feet are not going to be planted in the unpaved roads of Zambezi, walking to the market, school or just playing games with the children, we refuse to cease reflecting and thinking about our time here. As we close our eyes, we dream of this Zambian community, the friendships made, meals shared and memories created. We picture the sandy roads, vibrant sunsets and clear skies full of stars. We don’t say goodbye to Zambezi, we say sweet dreams.

Behind you, all your memories.

Before you, all your dreams.

Around you, all who love you.

Within you, all you need.

The biggest of Kisu Mwanes,

Emma Cheatham