Gonzaga-in-Zambezi

Piled on top of each other in the back of Father Yona’s pickup truck, Mama Katendi taught us a new word: Munone. Used in Luvali  to describe the feeling of butterflies in one’s stomach when driving over a bump in the road, we learned very quickly just how much Munone one can get while on a trip to Dipalata. Situated roughly 45 minutes away from Zambezi, Dipalata is a more rural community that Gonzaga started visiting in 2007. I am happy to report that all of our vehicles made it into the town limits without any hitches, and an excited crowd welcomed us in with song 

and celebration. Our group ate a quick PB&J lunch, and then headed to a house belonging to missionaries -the Speichinger’s- that have lived in the area for many decades. Thoughsensing some skepticism of what this missionary experience might be like, our group came away with some amazing insights on how life looks in rural Zambia.

Of most personal interest -and I presume that of many of our pre-med dominant group- was Janelle Speichinger’s experience as a midwife in Dipalata. She explained that as the Zambian government has become more dependent on foreign aid, many stipulations related to this aid have shackled the country intoa technocratic health system that frequently fails to meet the needs of the community and acknowledge the wisdom and experience of more wholistic practitioners in rural communities.

More specifically, in order for Zambia to received funding from the World Health Organization (WHO), government officials must commit to enforcing policy that allows for only certified midwives to birth babies. In a country that is only registering as average of 30-50 new midwives each year, this is clearly an impossible demand, yet one that has struck fear in communities across the country. Though only a microcosm in the history of Zambia, the experience of Janelle reflects much of the larger sentiment that keeps this region of the world shackled in poverty.

On a macro level, larger nations such as the United States, United Kingdom, and China have strong-armed Zambia and other less developed countries into signing predatory investment deals that open up land and people to exploitation. Such arrangements effectively trap entire populations in cycles of poverty and service to the “more developed” Western world and the economic systems that govern it. In Dipalata, you do not have to look far to see the effects that this legacy of oppression has left in its wake: roads strewn with trash, children with bloated bellies and yellowed hands from protein and fat deficiencies, etc.

It is easy to get discouraged amidst the constant reminder of how certain groups in history have contributed to the harsh conditions seen not only in Diapalata, but far beyond in Asia, South America, and even our own home in the USA as well. But what transpired during the our evening in Dipalata gave me new hope.

A hardworking community prepared a feast of chicken, bananas, oranges, rice, beans, cabbage, and nshima followed by a bonfire -complete with guitar, amplifier, and some of the best voices you can imagine. While singing in the circle, a young girl named Patience -maybe 9 or so- took my hand. Now if you have read the previous blog posts, you will know that children holding our hand is no rare occurrence. But there is a difference between a playful hand hold, and a hand hold that communicates interdependence, intimacy, and love. Patience was a hand that lent this interdependence, intimacy, and love.

In this moment I closed my eyes, listened to the beautiful voices around me, felt the warmth of the fire on my skin, and found peace in dancing with something greater; something that transcends skewed trade contracts, global politics, and local turmoil. Whether you call it love, peace, God,Allah, or something else, there is something that can be felt when joining hands in relationship and love with those around you.

We are all grappling with the sights, smells, and sounds that envelop us each day; the inequity of the world is apparent it its most overt forms, and complex beyond imagination. It makes your stomach uncomfortable. But sitting around the campfire in Dipalata is a reminder that maybe the solutions to our surroundings are not as complex as we sometimes make them out to be. Maybe the bumps in the metaphorical road are not as scary as feelings of Munone tell us they are. Maybe it all starts with a hand held and a song sung. In this, I think there are answers.

I am trying to post this ASAP because we have left our fans short handed the last few days, so I am going to cut out soon. BUT I will end by saying that although we are thousands of miles apart, we can still look up at the night sky and see the same Big Dipper that you see -though slightly contorted and not to brag, but likely way brighter and more miraculous; thanks Southern Hemisphere and low light pollution. I find this to be a beautiful reminder that none of us -whether family, friends, or new-found acquaintances in Zambia- are ever that far apart. There is something brilliant in this. So today, or whenever you read this, I challenge you to hold a hand, hug a stranger, or simply tell someone you love them, because Dipalata taught us that it is in tiny actions made with intentionality that we develop a foundation for true unity, changed and joy.

Lots of hugs and love,

Isaac

In the words of Nasir Jones, “I don’t know how to start this [thing],” so I’m just gonna type whatever comes to mind.

First, a preface. To friends, future friends, family, and as a reminder to myself, the purpose of this trip is not aid, vacation, nor cranking out a couple extra credits. As stated in previous posts, accompaniment is why we are here and at the end of the day, the friends we make, trips we take, and amount we grow are products of the process towards that goal. An important quote we continue to ponder, and I encourage readers to dwell on as well, is as follows:

“If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time, but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” -Lilla Watson

I know Janeen has already included Dr. Watson’s words in her post but I only repeat them here because of their importance and the implications they have towards intent behind action. Please send prayers, thoughts, and/or posi vibes this way for us to make the right moves supported by the proper intentions.

Anyway, yesterday the health team (Annika, Ellie, Megan, Preston, Rachel Walls, myself, plus honored guest Bryce Kreiser) as well as Mama Kitende, Mama Josephine (Josie Bada$$- I’m starting that, let’s make it stick), Josh, Br. Sitali, and Fr. Baraza, were invited to Kalundola to teach a brief bit on nutrition. We packed into our “trusty” land cruiser, six in the front, six in the back, at 9:15 and embarked on our journey to Kalundola, a village that is as rural as rural gets (don’t bother googling it). After an hour of smooth tarmac and an hour of off-road jumping and jostling through the Zambian bush, we arrived to a celebration of arrival, similar to the one we received upon touching down in Zambezi. After dancing and singing with our gracious hosts, we began a lesson covering macronutrients, micronutrients, hydration, and appropriate portions, which Mama Josephine translated to Lunda. Once our lesson concluded, we learned from some residents of Kalundola about how they treat venomous snake bites! This includes application of a topical ointment made from local plants to heal the bitten area and prevent spread of venom and consumption of some sort of antivenom made from the culprit snake’s blood and local ingredients. Super cool!!

Afterwards, we were treated to a delectable lunch of pumpkin, chicken, fish, rape (rapeseed), and nshima and then hung out with our hosts. English was limited but many polaroid pictures were taken and shared before we made our way down to the Kabompo River. Amidst the picture sharing, there was a gift exchange- we had brought mealie meal (for making nshima) and oil but to the surprise of the health team, we were presented with a live goat, an overflowing sack of maize, and a rooster! Before heading down to the river, we managed to stuff 16 people, pumpkins, maize, a rooster, and goat on board the good old land rover. After a slightly stuffy ride to the Kabompo, we were astonished at the untouched beauty of the crocodile-infested river. Unlike many “wildlife areas” in the states where powerlines can be spotted from afar and the muffled blustering of traffic can be heard from a distance, we were truly away from the pollution of an urban lifestyle (see above).

We began our trip back to the Zambezi convent we call home, with tummies full and spirits high, waving goodbye to the men, women, and children we had just met and created memories with for the past few hours. The bush road felt just as bumpy as the first time, but belting out “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “You Make My Dreams” with occasional embellishment from our new goat (g.o.a.t) friend (we couldn’t decide whether to name him Cassius or Michael) made it a bit more bearable. We reached the paved road after only one wrong turn and were well on our way to Zambezi when the engine started sputtering and we pulled over to give ole reliable a little break. Without missing a beat, Bryce, Sitali, and the health team hopped out and started kicking around Preston’s hacky sack (not in the middle of the road and definitely not next to grassy snake territory). Some passing military members were kind enough to stop and help us jump start ole reliable and continued to trail us in case of another automobile mishap. Good thing. Within thirty minutes spewing and sputtering began again and we had to make another stop and the hacky sack was once again broken out, this time with cookies (compliments to Rachel). The plot thickened when our rooster buddy broke free and took a poop in the back of the land rover. When nature calls, she really calls I guess. At least he was considerate enough to face away from everyone still sitting in the back and drop his gift on the rover’s back bumper. After getting back on the road not-so-old-reliable broke down one last time and we had to call Fr. Yona to come rescue us, 25km or so from home. All 13 of us managed to squish into Yona’s Toyota Hilux and got home only a couple minutes after dinner. I know what you’re thinking but don’t worry, Cassius/MJ, the rooster, pumpkins, and maize were towed back by the military dudes (talk about a godsend, we really are indebted to them)- bag secured.

So that was yesterday, May 30, and under other circumstances I’d do a little reflecting and sign off. However, the health team, Emma Cheatham, Sammi Rustia, Fr. Baraza and I had a very unique and thought-provoking experience today visiting the local hospital here in Zambezi and I feel like not sharing our thoughts and experience would be remiss.

I don’t think any of us had clear expectations of what the Zambezi District Hospital would be like, so after being able to tour the facilities and talk with the nurses, patients, and administrator, we left feeling a whirlwind of different emotions. Without going into excessive detail, we interacted and chatted with incredible nurses who operate under great odds to attempt the provision of proper patient care to the people in the Zambezi district. There are a whopping 2 hospitals in the district, home to 64,963 residents and both are only level 1 hospitals. One part that especially stood out to us were the pregnant women (some of whom are borderline children) and the minimal amount of space and outdated technology in their particular ward (not that it wasn’t a widespread issue through the hospital but this really stood out). We witnessed the care for four premature babies (formerly five) who were being cared for in an incubator meant for one. They were triplets from one mother and one child of a twin pair from another mother. Each baby was separated by cloth and cardboard. Now I don’t include this for the sake of trivial evoking of emotion or making this experience seem profound but because it was surprising to me and made me think deeper about what sort of change needs to happen and whether or not I have the ability and responsibility to create such change. Now obviously, immediate change such as providing better facilities and equipment should be any person’s responsibility should he/she/they have the means but this goes deeper than being able to write a check or build a hospital. As an aspiring doctor, a student of Jesuit institutions, and someone with a goal to simply be better than I am now (and in every future “now”), this made me think about accompaniment. Sustainable change, regardless of where in the world you are, takes time and can’t just be a top down, or even a bottom up sort of deal (and especially not one catalyzed by a Western savior figure). I believe it has to permeate through every bit of society and must occur naturally, with people bought in on the idea. This change can’t be forced but takes a lot of time and can be worked towards with accompaniment, when liberations are bound together. I have only a limited idea of what role I can play in this grandiose scheme of human empowerment and world betterment but I’m certain being a responsible ally and/or partner is part of the equation. Call it generation Z naïveté or whatever, but Dale Carnegie said something pretty relevant and he’s old so… “Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who kept on trying when there seemed no hope at all.” Anyway, coming back down to Earth, that hospital trip was really something and I’m sure I’ll continue to digest it for a while. I hate to use the word struggle because what struggle is there really that we personally faced by witnessing a lack of appropriate access to/means of healthcare, but this was definitely a challenging experience for us all and left us with more thoughts on our minds than I can accurately or succinctly articulate.  

Well, I better wrap up because it’s pretty late, I need to shower, and some readers probably already stopped reading. The past 24 hours have been full of incredible experiences and these have only been my thoughts. I heard that while some of us were Kalundola bound, many deep and insightful conversations and moments were held back in Zambezi. As Janeen and Josh mentioned tonight during our reflection, I think we’re all hitting the point of this trip where the initial nervous excitement has died down, people are really hitting personal reflection in stride, and the reality of what we’re doing and why we’re really here is finally setting in. Thanks for sitting through my word vomit and I can’t wait to recount and unpack these experiences with many of you in person!

Peace and love,

Daniel Li

Gonzaga Class of 2019

A lil message from Ellie: Grace!!! Congrats on your graduation! I am incredibly proud of you and everything you accomplished in high school! Been thinking about you and the family all day today, sending lots of love your way! Can’t wait to share all my experiences with you 🙂 

Hello there!

Welcome to yet another daily blog! I write this on a full stomach of delicious pasta and sausage cooked by the lovely Mama Violet. I know that recounting what I have just consumed may seem strange, but I only do so to comfort my father; who I know for a fact is worried that I am not eating enough. To any other worried parents, I assure you that we are eating like kings. Although, I have to admit that tears of joy flowed from my eyes when I found the only shop in the market that sells chocolate.

It is strangely quiet back at the convent today, with our health team, accompanied by Bryce Kreiser, out on an excursion to teach a valuable lesson on nutrition in Kalundola. With them absent, I cannot help but recall all of the amazing memories that we have already formed in our short time together in Zambezi.

The most recent memory that I will cherish was the #Zamball basketball game on May 28^th. Our group of Zags had the honor of challenging a group of Zambians who invited us to a game. Not to boast too much, but I think that Gonzaga students should be tenting for our pickup game rather than ordinary Gonzaga basketball games. Why you might ask? The court had “lots of cracks and grass scattered about” to quote Megan Hayes. The crooked hoop, cracked cement and added nature elements provided new thrilling obstacles that I’m sure would provide extra entertainment for any basketball fan.

In addition to this, audiences would be in awe of our team MVP Chloe Sciammas. In the first minute or so of the game, Chloe scored a whopping 6 points. This prompted all of the spectators to yell “Check your watches, it’s Sham time!” I also guarantee that Father Joseph’s Steph Curry status 3 pointers would make any crowd go wild.

My team proceeded to pull ahead, but in true Gonzaga fashion, we blew our 15-point lead in the last few minutes. We lost 34-30, but I still had an absolute blast. The game ended with lots of sweaty hugs, handshakes, and bonding with new friends.

While I love this memory, there is a part of me that is sad looking back on it. Before the game, I was adamant on not playing. I felt that I would drag the team down because of my limited basketball skills. Even though the game was just for fun, I was still criticizing myself and convincing myself that I was not deserving enough to play. I only decided to participate because of Maurie Harbick’s encouragement. He simply would not accept my silly excuses, which I am so thankful for.

For a number of years, I have struggled with self-worth. I constantly tell myself that I am not enough. I tell myself that I am not beautiful enough, not smart enough, and recently, I was convincing myself that I was not mentally strong enough to come on this adventure to Zambezi.

While this is a battle that I am sure I will continue to fight, I am practicing “giving myself grace” as Rachel Hass has advised me to do.

I am becoming aware that I do have a lot of value and worth to bring to the table. I can proudly say that I can capture the attention of 55 Zambian children in my classroom, all of them eager to participate. I am brave, not only for pushing myself out of my comfort zone, but for killing any spider, no matter how big, here at the convent. Lastly, I feel beautiful in my chitenges.

I am working towards not allowing self-doubt to take away from the joy around me. Here in Zambezi, and back at home in the states, there is so much joy to be felt. Joy, in my not so humble opinion, is something that should never be sacrificed.

Peace and love,

Caitlyn Moore – ’21

As one of the staff of this trip I am housed across the yard in the Priest’s home.  There are six men and myself that share the large, well-used space. We have private rooms with sinks, toilets, and several spiders that share the space. I was advised to name them, which could lessen my fear. My 7 new friends who are at-least 2-3 inches in diameter are lovingly named Jeff Dodd (shout out to you brother).

I have spent plenty of time with the Jeffs because I caught some kind of virus which caused me to stay in bed for almost 24 hours. I would only wander out to use the bathroom, and see what was playing on the television in the nicely tiled living room.  Yes, there is a color flat screen on that flaunts Indian soap operas, World-wide Wrestling Federation matches, BBC news or football(soccer) most of the days. These programs are enjoyed very often. It became my entertainment to see what was being watched every few hours that I would leave my room.  

I have also learned that these men know how to throw an awesome party. Annika mentioned in our last post the amazing dinner with the church council, youth group and priests we had Sunday.  After leading us in mass and being with their parish they spent the day moving pews, chairs, speakers, dishes, and an entire sound system over to welcome us. The music started pumping at 5:15 pm and it didn’t stop. Okay… it did stop, but it felt like an eternity. I was flat on my back in my room with ear plugs in and could still hear the music pumping. Now that is a party!

I am writing this behind the house.  Father Yona has put in a garden, fish pond and large chicken coop.  He is helping the parish become sustainable.  

I share this because the television, the shows, the music, their pop culture connections, the self-sustaining back yard- they all surprise me. 

They surprise me the same way that after the walking safari Maurie and I experienced in Livingstone, Mukwesa, our guide, asked to get my WhatsApp number to stay connected.  They surprise me the same way the head restaurant manager for the Royal Livingstone hotel is from a rural village outside of the Indian state that our youngest son was adopted from.

I was surprised because their stories are richer and more complicated than what I was expecting.  I have been able to travel to several developing countries. I’ve read the articles, watched the Ted talks and am culturally sensitive.  Until I’m not.

Last night our team watched the TED Talk “The Danger of a Single Story”.  Chimamanda Adichie so articulately shares, “The single story creates stereotypes. And the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue but that they are incomplete.  They make one story become the only story.” What a surprise when I realized that I had allowed a single narrative to be what I expected from my new Zambian and Indian friends. 

There is poverty here that makes my heart ache.  Every day I find Jasmine waiting outside the convent walls to hold my hand.  It is easy for me to identify her among the dozen children that linger because she has been in the same clothes since day one. There is a look in her face that I’m familiar with. I saw it in my son’s face when we first met him at the orphanage in India. It’s the look of undernourishment.  Part of her skirt is ripped from the inseam down to her knee. Although we are wearing shorts and t-shirts at night, I’ve noticed Zambians are in jackets-it’s winter for them.  I wonder what Jasmine wears at night.

Mama Katendi and Mama Violet make us amazing meals.   We eat chicken and apples over a bed of lettuce with an orange garlic dressing.  Mama Katendi enjoys it during her time with us because at home she can only afford a chicken once every 6 weeks.  She is a single mother with 7 children and no support from her husband who left. It’s not fair.  It’s what it is.

After dropping off the education team to teach their literacy classes at Chilena I head back to town and pick up a woman swaddling a young baby.  As we chat I learn that her name is Avery (like my daughter). I tease her and say that I have a daughter Avery and she could now call me mama.  Her 1 month daughter is Emma grace (my Avery’s middle name is Grace), she is 17 (like my Avery).  She stopped going to school at 14. She said that her family can’t pay for school so she now has Emma.  As I walk Avery into the hospital for Emma’s check up she touches my arm and says “Thank you mama”.  I swallow hard.

If any of you know me, I love to remind/lecture students to embrace a both/and mentality rather than an either or mindset.  What a surprise that I fell into the either/or mentality. (It’s not really that surprising-most of my lectures to students are things I need to work on).

No more single stories. I am striving to integrate both the beauty and the brokenness.  Both The simplicity and complexity of relationships. Both the abundance and the scarcity. Both the realization that people like me have hurt these amazing people and have helped these people.

What surprises me most is that I feel free with this new insight. There is more love in my heart and a lightness in my step. My hugs are longer, my tears are saltier, and like the African sunset, my outlook is brighter.  These relationships are changing me.  There is an unforced rhythm of grace that is moving within me.

“If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time.  But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” -Lilla Watson

My prayer for ALL of us is that we will continue to be surprised by God.

Grace and Peace,

Janeen Steer, Mission and Ministry

The past five days in Zambezi have been filled with the most incredible individuals and the warmest of welcomes. There is no way that I could have expected or prepared for the experiences that were about to follow stepping off the bush planes in Zambezi. I am learning very quickly that the people here in Zambezi are very good at making people feel comfortable and at home, even though many of us are three long plane rides away from the place we call home. They do this through large displays of how excited they are to have us here or by simply sharing and explaining small pieces of their personal stories, cultures and traditions with us.

As the bush plane started the descent into Zambezi I was filled with nerves about what was waiting for me and my fellow Zags but also excitement for the new culture and experiences that I was about to encounter. But as soon as we got close to the dusty airstrip in Zambezi my nerves quickly went away as I saw the large groups of children and adults of the Zambezi community waiting for us. As soon as we stepped off the plane tons of tiny little hands reached for mine and put the biggest smile on my face. After repeating my name to each child that came up to me we were brought over to watch the Chilena School Choir sing and dance for us. Needless to say, after this my peers and I were on a high and ecstatic to finally be in Zambezi.

The next day we all left for our homestays and Regan and I got the opportunity to stay at the home of Mama Violet (one of the women that cooks for us in the convent) and her husband Steven. Before leaving for our homestay Josh told Regan and I that staying at Mama Violet’s would be a “true bush experience”. Regan and I immediately agreed and said that we would love to stay with her and were up for a challenge. Part of this even included carrying a mat on my head the whole 30-minute walk to her house, which received a lot of funny looks when we walked through the market. We arrived to see a small home with tin over the windows. There was no electricity or running water and a bathroom that was a basic hole in the ground with a 5-foot-tall thatch fence around it. As soon as Regan and arrived, we were a bit uncomfortable as we were instructed to sit down on a mat and then were immediately surrounded by at least 25 kids staring at us with curious eyes. Both of us tried talking and interacting with them but quickly realized that they did not speak any English. Once we asked them to teach us a song they immediately got super excited. They jumped up and started to sing and dance with us to “Chitomato” and “Do as I Do” (both involve LOTS of poses), which are songs that they all sing and dance to regularly. Regan and I soon realized that our dancing skills were no match for theirs but the laughs that it brought to their face were so worth it. We were both so excited to be welcomed into their culture and have them show us some of their traditions that our discomfort was quickly replaced by a love for this place and these people.  

Later that night we met Mama Violet’s husband, Steven. Right after meeting Regan and I he immediately followed with, “This is your home! Feel at home!” I cannot even begin to tally how many times he told us this throughout our homestay in order to ensure that we knew how welcome we were in their home. What truly displayed Steven’s love for the Gonzaga in Zambezi program was when he brought out his envelope with pictures of all the past Gonzaga students that have stayed in their home the past 10 years. This made us feel even more comfortable and relaxed in a place that was so foreign and new to us. Steven and Violet shared with us their family’s traditions such as telling stories by the fire after dinner every night. Even with such a large language barrier and difference in culture they made us feel secure and right at home.

The next morning, we awoke early to the sound of roosters crowing, pigs snorting and goats eating. We ate a tasty breakfast of ground nuts and sweet potatoes, took tons of pictures of us and their family, and then went to church with Mama Violet and Steven. Gonzaga has a long-standing relationship with the Catholic Church here and that was quite apparent during the service. The people of Zambezi welcomed us into their church with open arms, many songs and many dances. During mass each Gonzaga student was brought up to the stage to share their name with the community and then we were all invited to a barbeque dinner at the priest’s house to welcome us into their community.

We expected the dinner at the priest’s house to be low key but we soon became aware that it was more like a huge party. Father Yona invited the Zambezi youth (community members ages 15-25) so that we would be able to interact with others in the community our own age. They brought huge speakers and microphones so that they could sing and dance with us. We each got to share a piece of our culture when they shared with us a popular dance in Zambia that involved A LOT of dancing with your hips and we in turn taught them the Cupid Shuffle and the Electric Slide. This sharing of traditions was such a fun way to allow us to meet even more friendly faces from the Zambezi community. The night continued with lip sync battles and dancing to Post Malone as well as One Direction with a Catholic Church Youth group. I can honestly say this was something that I never expected to do in Zambezi, or even at home. To quote Ethan, “That was the sauciest youth group I have ever seen.” Megan wanted me to add that she even got pulled up on stage and was serenaded to and even received a “proposal!”

When classes began on Monday my team and I wanted to repay the favor and ensure that we made our students feel just as comfortable in our class as they had all made us feel in their community. Gonzaga’s longstanding relationship with the Zambezi community has provided all of us the opportunity to be welcomed into this community and learn and grow from the people here. I am in awe of the way that individuals here are able to make a large group like us feel so welcomed and so loved in such a short amount of time. Many people in Zambezi live their lives focusing on their relationships and interactions with others. They provide kindness and a friendly face to almost everyone that they encounter. This is something I have learned and admire about the people here even in just a short amount of time. I truly aspire to take these lessons and apply them to my own life at home. I am beyond excited for what the next three weeks have in store for me and my other Zags here in Zambezi!

Lots of Love,

Annika Helgesen ’21

P.S. To my friends and family: I miss you all so much and cannot wait to share all of my stories and experiences here with everyone! Love you all!

Katie – Ellie and I love your comments, they make our day J We love and miss you!

Hello all!

This is Leila, writing to you from a bench next to some windows at the back of a large conference room. The space is one we use to teach the Business and Leadership class. Outside the window at my right cheek is a large tree whose foliage is shading me from the sun that the Zambians laugh at me for calling “SO HOT.”  In its after hours vacancy, this favorite spot of mine has become a refuge for retreat when I feel the need for the soft quiet of solitude. Before I really begin, I would love to assure you of our well-being here in the wonderful community of Zambezi. I know my family and friends at home have felt some sense of uneasiness as I have walked into an experience that is new to the both of us. I have a strong feeling they are in good company with many of the people keeping up with our blog. This community has opened itself so joyfully to the new zags who are continuing a story of friendship that has endured the past 12 years. I will not speak for the whole of my peers, but a quick survey of my classmates can reveal many of us are eager to feel the rhythm that a routine will bring as we begin our classes this week.

The first day of school has always been one of my favorite days of the year, so really it was no surprise when I ended up choosing to study special education at GU, and then placed on the Chileńa Literacy team during our time abroad. The first day of school has always carried for me some a distinct sense of excited anticipation unlike any other. The day seems to hold some promise of a fresh start, a clean slate. There does seem to be a special weight that is the companion to any new beginning. This weight is less of a burden, and more of a  powerful yet precious responsibility. In this new home, that responsibility has everything to do with friendship, and nothing to do with lesson plans. On the wall of our common area rests the words from Aaron Ausland: “Friendship, real and deep, is the foundation of giving that empowers.” These words haven’t stopped making rounds through my mind, and I don’t have much of a plan to stop them.

This first day is unlike any other first day I think I will ever experience. At Chileńa, they have been adjusting to their second term schedule for a couple of weeks, this leaves me holding the truth that this is only my first day, not theirs. As I step into this fully filled and new to me space, I am reminded that the paramount goal of this trip is to remain not in the pursuit of objective success but the pursuit of sincere companionship. This dream of true companionship or accompaniment has been a theme in conversations of reflection and a signature left on hearts of all leaders I’m with on this trip.

The most striking evidence of this spirit of accompaniment has come from our walk to the Chileńa Primary school this morning to meet the head master and observe the English teacher. Before we were welcomed in with hands outstretched and wide toothy smiles mirrored by our own, we were greeted by the sign. Yes, a sign. A large, concrete, sign. On the front, this sign reads “Welcome to Chileńa Primary School” (or something like that), but on the hind side of the sign lay the words in bold red paint, “LONG LIVE CHILEŃA GONZAGA PARTNERSHIP.” Wow. What a welcome.

These 5 words tell a much bigger story than just that of my showing up here to learn and teach for 15 short days of class.

Earlier this year in talking to a friend of mine, Sanna, she said to me, “Nothing can prepare you for what will happen once you step off that bush plane” and oh my was she right. Zambians are absolute PROS at giving a warm welcome. We were received off the planes last Friday to the mighty Chileńa choir dancing and singing in celebration of their reunion with Gonzaga. Might I add that this choir has won national championship titles? In trying to reconcile this regal welcome we have experienced, I have come to realize that we are not only being welcomed so grandly as individuals new to this community, but as a limb of the greater body of Gonzaga University that they have come to know well. Does this feel a little meta yet?

The sign that greeted us at Chileńa told a story of mutually indebted gratitude towards this unique partnership between our schools; with the greater body of humans called Gonzaga- Zags who come back year after year to build friendships that extend beyond the four walls of the Chileńa classroom and beyond the three weeks of our stay. The sign tells tales of how these individual relationships contribute to the creation of one larger composition of trust, mutual respect, and friendship grounded in curious love. These crucial signatures of accompaniment are not only an account of the relationships we’ll continue building here in our time, but of the relationship that has grown between GU and the communities in Zambezi. Even this relationship between GU and Zambezi can tell us something about the connection that Zambia has with the US. Pretty meta, right?

My hope for the following weeks is that we commit to being surprised by this community each and every day. I hope we allow ourselves to be served where we are serving. I hope we give way for our classes to be vehicles for the fostering of life-giving friendships with Zags and Zambians, and we commit to making this month full of deeply rich dialogue around self awareness, intercultural leadership, and the meaning of global citizenship. The three-ish weeks that we have left to spend in Zambezi will no doubt be very focused on building relationships grounded in curiosity and care with those in and out of the classes we are teaching. These individual relationships are only paragraphs in the chapter titled 2019 in a book titled Gonzaga Staying for Tea in Zambezi, and I can’t wait to be a character in them. TOTALLY META.

You have my heart,

Leila Lewis ’21

Family, I miss you all so very much. Each of you carry a special piece of me while I’m on this journey, and I can’t wait to share with you all the special moments I’m collecting on this trip. Kisu Mwane. I love you!!!  – Leilou 

“Staying for tea helped us become mutually indebted. I call this operating at eye level with the community, and this made all the difference in the quality and impact of our time together.”   — Aaron Ausland

The market in town is an all-encompassing site of various colored shops and vendors, overstimulating our senses with smells of fish, chicken, vegetables and fruits. Music played as a background noise to conversations; greetings across the street, laughter in the shops and many kids chattering with Ethan and I as we made the sandy walk to the hot spot of shopping and conversation in Zambezi.

Often our group has had discussions of transactional vs transformational relationships, struggling with the desire to make deep connections, yet not always being in the time and place to develop them. Here at the market, while there were transactions with the needs to buy chitenge and flip flops, the purchases were accompanied by language lessons from shop owners, mentions of past Zags and friendships made, and friendly welcomes into the community. While American grocery stores exhibit quick in and out transactional moments and the need to be efficient, there was a continuous beauty in the slower paced walking moments of the Zambezi market. Instead of the regular transactional relationship, small conversations and introductions have allowed us to recognize familiar faces on the streets and at church- potential friendships are developing, allowing for the true exploration of accompaniment.

A beginning to these talked about “transformational” relationships has started with our homestays. Because of kind and gracious families within the church community, all 18 of us were able to stay the night in pairs or little groups with hosts. Ellie and I stayed with a wonderful couple Winafreida and John. John sitting at a tall 6’2 is a retired school master and teacher, exhibiting patience with a kind heart and gentle voice. Complimenting John is his firecracker wife, Winafreida. What she lacks in height (being half as tall as John) she makes up for with tenacity and passion. As a health counselor, she advises women and children living with HIV. Their life, starting in the Northern Province of Zambia has resulted in 6 kids, 22 grandkids, 1 great-grandkid and 250 young chicks (yes chickens). Throughout the night, neighbors, friends and community members came to greet and chat with us. Nshima was eaten, babies were carried and amazing memories were made.

John carried a world atlas into the living room later in the night. Pointing out his village that he grew up in and explaining the different provinces of Zambia, we were able to gain an abundance of knowledge, not only about the present culture of Zambia but also years of its history. In exchange, Ellie and I flipped to a map of the United States and were able to point out exactly where we grew up in California and Oregon, where we attend school in Spokane and how exhilarating (yet draining) of a journey it was to get to Zambia with three plane rides and a bus ride.

I have found the most special and genuine of moments, not at the big welcoming celebration or the church ceremony, but rather the small dinner conversations and morning coffee. While the big gatherings were heartfelt and definitely unforgettable, the stunning hospitality tends to overwhelm me in moments. Intimate settings have impacted me most profoundly, providing a space for me to breathe and form authentic conversations and bonds.

Veronica, the first of Winafreida and John’s grandchildren, also with a baby of her own, taught us how to make lemonade and orangeade. Conversing about the shared lemon trees that both my family and hers have in our front yards, we compared amounts of sugar that are supposedly put into the specific drink. (Dad, apparently, we don’t use nearly enough). Sharing her love for nursing and kids, Veronica, Ellie and I bonded over passions for jobs in healthcare and potentially working in pediatrics. Nervousness about a new environment and household was nonexistent by the end of our stay, leaving for church with full hearts and semi-properly wrapped chitenge skirts around us.

While many of our homestay experiences were unique between groups, there was a general consensus that lives lived here in Zambezi greatly differ from us in terms of routine and environment. Roosters crow before sunrise contrarily to popular belief, and from what Ellie and I experienced do not care if they are making noise at 3 in the morning. Rachel Walls experienced that when given a warm bucket of water to bathe in, its most likely boiling hot and would be beneficial to wait a few minutes before cleaning your body. Preston and Isaac learned that when freestyle rapping, it is best to just go for it and see what comes out in the verse.

There are a long list of differences existing between our normal routines and that of Zambians. However, there is one prevalent and common thread existing between Zambezi and our home communities. Love. A love for food and shared dinner that reminds me of meals that I cook with my family paired with storytelling and smiles. A love for neighbors like family that remind me of college friends that have become my second home in Washington. An abundance of care and compassion just seems to ooze from almost every aspect of this community and provides a supporting basis for authentic and true relationships.

Hopefully a snapshot of homestays has allowed readers of this blog to feel and share some of these unique and personal experiences with me and my fellow zags. Whether it was tea, coffee, or other beverages shared in the early morning, genuine connections have begun to form and I, along with all my fellow zags, cannot wait to dive deeper into this community, as well as ourselves, with the hope to grow and flourish.

“After some time, I realized that something else was happening over tea. My title and position were being eroded; I was becoming real to them. At the same time, my simplistic stereotypes of them were melting away; they were becoming real to me. –Aaron Ausland

Emma Cheatham, Class of 2021

To my loved ones: Miss you with all my heart. Filling my mind and notebook with memories and stories to share. Lots of Love. 

Hello to all reading the blog, hope you are having a fantastic day.

After a violent reminder of my previous intestinal problems on a 5-seater Busch plane, and 2 ½ hours, we arrived in Zambezi. Smiling faces of Zags and Zambezians lined the runway to create a scene I’ll never forget. After dancing and listening to the Chilenga School choir, Daniel Li and I were led back to the convent by a group of 25 Zambezi children who I ‘presumed’ knew the way.

Once we all arrived to the convent, a quick volleyball session followed, the value of the term ‘Yaco akusi’ was learned, a few large spiders were named, and it was time for dinner! Mama Violet and Mamma Katendi treated us to a nshima, fresh chicken (shout out to Isaac and Caitlyn), Chinese lettuce, and some properly sliced apples. While the food was great and did wonders at settling my stomach, I could not help but notice a newly formed tension in the atmosphere. The conversation was smaller, camaraderie was at all time low, nerves were at all time. I, and many of my peers I learned, were uncomfortable. The unconditional love and praise we received was overwhelming and challenging to come to terms with. Father Baraza reminding us instead of trying to understand the high praise we received, but to be reciprocal of the excitement and appreciation that we were receiving. Many of us are in a setting that is completely unfamiliar to us. No longer in the tourist location of the Livingston, this feels more real than ever. As a group, I call us to return much of that praise and curiosity that we have received. The saying goes, “I can learn as much from you, and you can learn from me’ -anonymous. Keeping this in the back of our mind will enable us to be in accompaniment and to create those relationships with Zambians that we desire.

The following morning, I went to the kitchen just in time to see Josh and Ethan heading out for a run; I was able to jump on this train with two brilliant leaders who combined have nearly 20 years of experience in Zambezi – I was excited. I was quiet as I observed my new environment for the next three weeks, unfamiliar sights and sounds stole my attention – the voices of choirs around each block was quite the touch. I was amazed that even after two years, Josh was being greeted hellos from local. Furthermore, Josh mentioned a story about a Zambezi man that had a polaroid picture of himself with a Gonzaga student in his shirt pocket who hadn’t been on the trip for 6 years! This made me excited for our potential to make a lasting impact in Zambezi through a commitment to relationships and endless learning.

Returning from the run, I was met with a wonderful oatmeal bar put on by Zags who woke up early in the morning to prepare the feast. In the moments following splitting into our teams (health, business/leadership, education, computers), I witnessed a great sight. A majority of my classmates were journaling and reading away, which was sweet! A reminder that I am surrounded by a bunch of curious students that are in the process of growing themselves.

After a 45 min meet up with the health team, the excitement and nervousness for our first class is officially brewing. Today fellow students got the opportunity to check out the market, read + journal, and play basketball at the nearby court (we even have a game set up for Tuesday!). In a couple of hours, we live for homestays, were we will be staying with a local family for the night. Exciting times of tension and growth are upon us, here we go!   

Preston Matossian ’19 

Howdy fellow Zag Family and Friends!

Regan Corley coming to you from our final destination of the trip: Zambezi! We have finally made it to the province we have been much anticipating and dreaming of since first applying for this amazing opportunity.

Today’s journey was taxing for everyone but with much reward waiting upon our arrival on the gravel runway here in Zambezi. Other than Josh, Father Baraza and Ethan, I do not think that any Zag could have truly pictured the experience we were about to step into when coming off the 6-seater bush plane. Everyone that stepped off the plane was immediately greeted with a charged buzz of excitement and hundreds of tiny hands grasping for theirs. The pure joy was contagious and not a single face didn’t have a wide grin plastered to it. Song filled the air and rhythm was in everyone’s feet as we took in the scene we had been counting down to for months. It was completely and utterly exhilarating and many had tears streaming down their faces.

Today marked a week and one day since we embarked on our journey to Zambezi and there has been quite the roller coaster of emotions to get here. As a group we have faced trying times of fatigue, illness and searching for understanding of our role here in this country. How we have handled these situations are telling of who we are as people and what each individual hold in their hearts. One theme that has continued to stand out to me as a continuous pattern with not only the people in our group, but also the people I have encountered along the way is kindness.

Kindness is something I have been taught from a very young age and is something that I have valued greatly in my life since it unfortunately is not a trait that all people share. Growing up, like every kid, I faced challenges of bullies and unkind words every day. At the time, I would come home defeated and confused as to why someone could be so hurtful. Every time without fail my Mom would remind me to think about it from their point of view. Maybe that kid woke up and wasn’t able to eat breakfast because they couldn’t afford to. Maybe they had parents that didn’t care enough to ask them how their day at school was. Maybe they were tired from staying up to watch their siblings until an adult came home. At the time I would grudgingly say, “Yeah, yeah, you are right Mama.” I didn’t fully grasp that she had been instilling within me a deep empathy for other people and to treat other people the way you wanted to be treated. Empathy should not be mistaken for pity as they are two separate things and that is very important for every person to remember on this journey we call life.

At home in California and Washington, there are a lot of kind people don’t get me wrong, but the kindness that has been shown in and to our group has been remarkable. The people on this trip and here in Zambia seem to ooze kindness from almost every pore of their body. This began with simple things like a Zag holding a bag for someone else in the group or sincere complements on outfits or achievements such as someone not throwing up for 24 hours. These small things began to work themselves into bigger ones such as providing an intentional listening ear to someone in need or being understanding that everyone may be having different emotional responses to the journey we have been on thus far.

While every small act of kindness is important there have been some individuals that have stood out to me in particular who seem to carry this trait with them where ever they may go.

The first individual who has come to mind is Father Dominic. While coming to a country so far from home can be scary and intimidating, Father Dominic made Zambia feel almost just like it from the moment we stepped foot out of the airport in Lusaka. We were immediately greeted by him with the biggest, most genuine smile I had ever seen upon a stranger’s face as well as the warmest hug imaginable. He continued to show his kind heart throughout our week together through his actions and wise words. While we only had a week to spend with him, the mark he made on the rest of the group and I will be carried with us forever. Father Dominic, if you are reading this I wanted to personally thank you from all of us for starting our journey here in Zambia on such a wonderful note. I do not think you can fully comprehend the impact you have had on all of us in such a short amount of time and people who can have this effect on people are special souls that should be cherished by everyone around them.

The second individual who came to mind when thinking about who exemplifies the trait of kindness is Janeen. The kindness I have experienced from her is one that is very rare to come by. She is also one I have not had the pleasure of knowing for very long, but she has already had such a profound impact on who I am as a person. I have watched Janeen find the brightness and positivity of every moment. When the Emirates Plague was sweeping through our group she was there to offer any support she could to make the experience even a little bit better. When we were sitting on a broken bus with no air conditioning she offered notes of positivity and reminded us of the memories we were making and to soak in every second. When any person has needed a listening ear to talk about the deeper questions of life she has been there to offer them support and feedback. While these are all phenomenal things, what truly makes Janeen special is her fierce compassion and love that she has to offer to every one she encounters.

Lastly, Father Baraza has exemplified kindness on a new level. With every story he tells and relationship he builds he inspires others to treat people with respect and kindness the way he so does. In this way, he has reminded me greatly of both my Grandfathers, as they also provide me with such wisdom that I will carry on with me forever.

While I could go on about how Baraza is so wonderful that he receives emails from former students explaining how wonderful he is, has songs sung in his honor, and has babies named after him, I am going to discuss something he has said that has had a profound impact on me personally. “Good thoughts. Good words. Good deeds.” These three simple phrases hold an abundance of power. If every person can work to better their thoughts, think about their words and how they can affect people, as well as preform acts of selflessness and kindness than the world will ultimately become a better place than it is now. While all three of these are the dream, we are human after all. If we can focus on even just two of these, then the world will be better off than it is now.

While these people are all fantastic human beings, I am most looking forward to experiencing the kindness that the people of Zambezi have to offer. These individuals I have had the opportunity to connect with on a deeper level and I am excited to continue to build connections with not only my fellow Zags but also the people of the Zambezi community through things such as our home stay tomorrow night, working in the local school and working to be intentional with relationships I want to pursue.

After reading this post, I hope that you all can have the opportunity to reflect on how what you say and do does matter and will affect people. Kindness matters. I challenge you all to be present and intentional with your kindness. You may not see the immediate effect of your actions, but I can promise that you are having an impact on at least one person’s day and life.

Much Love,

                        Regan Corley

To my friends and family: know that I think of each and every one of you every day and you are walking alongside me on my journey in Zambia. I love you all dearly and can’t wait to share many stories with you when I get home.

XOXO,

            Regz

Hello Zag family and friends!

The last couple of days in Livingstone have been a much-needed reset after our long period of travel. Our time has been filled with bartering at the market, taking a second trip to Mosi-Oa-Tunya for ‘adrenaline junky’ activities, sitting by the pool, and very serious pool tournaments (S/O to Daniel). Tomorrow, we leave for the main event, our time in Zambezi.

I titled this blog “The In Between” because this represents my existence in Zambia thus far. The in between can be interpreted in many ways depending on the situation. I define it as the space where tension exists because conceding to one truth or the other does not accurately represent the full truth. This can be said in regard to a moment, relationship, feeling, etc.

Transactional versus transformational relationships.

Coming in to this experience, many of us geared up for the cultivation of deep, meaningful relationships with Zambians. However, this proved to be tricky when it came to a market setting, where relationships are assumed to be transactional. But why is it not possible for them to be both? For example, this man named Ice Cream, yes, Ice Cream like the food, on the bridge most of us jumped off of today (hence, the ‘adrenaline junky’ activities mentioned earlier) was there to sell trinkets to tourists like ourselves. The foundation of our existence in relation to his was completely transactional. Until, he saw one of our group members, Ellie, freaking out about the fact that she was about to jump off of a 364 ft. bridge. He offered her an empowering pep talk which brought her peace and courage amidst the nerves. That is totally transformational even though he was still there to get us to buy his overpriced knick-knacks.

Bungee jumping – the waiting period.

Eight of the people in our group decided to bungee jump. Two others ziplined and four went on the swing. I decided to bungee jump mostly just to say that I have bungee jumped at one of the seven natural wonders of the world (which is also why I bought the overpriced T-shirt), but also because I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. My classmates and I spent the half hour waiting period suspended between suppressed nervous energy and elation.

There is no one truth to history.

This morning we visited the Livingston museum and were presented with the opportunity to hear about the history of Zambia from the Zambian people. Too often, we are exposed to the history of Africa from the perspective of the colonizer, with little to no consideration of the fact that there is another party involved. Exploring this museum offered us a unique chance to gain access to another, less common perspective. Reconciling these two truths proved difficult at times; this difficulty brought me to the realization that, sometimes, understanding history requires the acknowledgement that there is no one truth. The truth exists within the tension of multiple truths.

The bittersweet departure of Father Dominic.

I could go on and on about Father Dominic and never truly capture his essence. There is a unique, exuberant light about him which I have never witnessed. His heart for service and tenacious faith cannot be contained. I have gained more wisdom from our conversations than I realize, and I find myself in another space of tension regarding my feelings toward his departure tomorrow morning. On the one hand, it brings me hope to know that other people will feel the warmth that is his nature and the joy that is his spirit; I also cannot help but feel the empty remnants of loss due to his leaving. Father Dominic, if you read this after your long, and hopefully less bumpy, bus ride back to Lusaka, know that you are a true inspiration to me and many others. You represent the divine mission unlike anyone I have ever met. Thank you for taking the time to welcome us into this beautiful country and spreading joy and laughter among our group. You will be missed, and we look forward to your return.  

Learning to live in these moments of tension has proven to be a process of denial, resentment, curiosity, and frustration. Black and white is easy and superficially preferable to people like myself. Grey area forces thought.

As of tomorrow, we will begin to leave our footprints in the Zambezi community. We are eager to see what this journey holds.

“The footprints – marks we leave behind as we go about our busy lives – serve as a metaphor for the journey each of us takes during our time on this planet…The more I interacted daily with Livingstone’s people, both real and imagined, and left my own footprints in the sand, I found that this beautiful, unfamiliar land had begun to feel like home.” -Ruth Stanford.

Stay tuned!

            Alea Chatman

P.s. To my family and friends, I hope you know how much I love and care for you. See you later love:)