Gonzaga-in-Zambezi

Live for moments I’ll always remember, with the people I’ll never forget

Today we are so blessed. We started with an amazing breakfast topped with cinnamon toast and “frog in a hole” (fried egg in a slice of bread…. not to “jump“ to conclusions). We also celebrate the 20 years of life our Brother Conner has blessed and keeps on blessing the world with. The Zam Fam here can agree he’s an incredible boy—now MAN—and we love him very much. He left his teenage years in America and will be returning a full adult; hopefully gaining his right of passage by what will be his first sacrifice of a goat… (Sorry Mr. Newman, Megan won’t be bringing back Jerry—at least not in his natural, alive, or undigested meat form). Aside from Conner’s birthday, May 30th also marks Day 15 of our stay here, with only six more days in Zambezi. Our bucket lists start to build as we try to soak every last moment we have with our new family and home found here in Zambezi and within our Gonzaga group. This morning a song lingered in the heads of our Zam Fam, a song taught to us by Zambezi children on our first day. It is slowly gaining so much more meaning as each day passes:

“I want to linger, uh huh.
a little longer, uh huh.
I want to linger with you.”

At the same time however, this bittersweet reality of leaving in a week means we are closer to warm showers, the beach (for those who live near the ocean), and the comfort of being surrounded by loved ones. Although I don’t think anyone is counting down the days until we are back on American soil, we sure have been thinking a lot about how nice it would be to have a scoop of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream or to not worry about catching the Chindele Bug that has been going around. Thankfully, today marks the first day in a week in which everyone is healthy and doing well! We’ve been taking precautionary measure to eliminate the bug for good i.e. lots of bleach!!!!!!!!!!!

This yearning for what’s comfortable may have started during our Dipolata visit. I think I speak for the whole group when I say that at that point we had reached a period of major culture shock, past the honeymoon stage of new and exotic excitement. We have been feeling frustrated with our inability to enact or see immediate and sustainable solutions to local issues. We have been struggling to find energy and motivation to dance, sing, and say, “fine how are you” with the kids during our free time. We have also been struggling to ignore every single pair of eyes staring at us as we walk through the community, usually coupled with references of us being “Chindele!”. As I’ve learned in my Culture Psychology class with Professor Vinai, this is the period where a person new to a culture can develop major homesickness and potentially return to where they originated.

The culture shock really hit me on the drive back to Zambezi, and since then I’ve been in a slump struggling to ease my unrested heart. You see, not only was I frustrated with being out of OUR comfort zones, I was also frustrated that I was even feeling frustrated. I felt as though I needed to be present in the here and now. Yes, a warm shower would be nice after a Hanalei beach swim and shaved ice pit stop, however, while there, it would trouble me that those people who touched my heart just a few weeks ago, were still living their less than glamorous way of life. It is overwhelming and exhausting to feel that strength of guilt and unrest.

I try to overshadow those feelings with story book readings with John, time invested in the inspiring works of Mama Love and Sandu, or trying to create lifelong memories with my Zam Fam. Though the more I try to suppress the unrest, the stronger it hinders me from fully experiencing Zambia. It’s a frustrating thing to have, especially when we all come with the desire for this experience to be all positive and beyond incredible. I don’t think we anticipated any overbearing feelings of homesickness or the struggle not knowing the answer to the community’s problems.

I guess what I am trying to say is that behind the inspiring stories, the valuable lessons learned, and the smiles we exchange, there lies struggle and hardships that we tackle internally here in Zambia and, well, in all our lives back home. It’s these difficulties that we are so afraid of admitting, in fear that others may not understand and will overshadow the good this experience has to offer.

Western mindset influences us to push that which unsettles our heart to the back of the mind and then attempt to extract any positive lesson we can think of to reconcile the unease. We concentrate so much on the positives, that we become fearful to acknowledge our own weaknesses. Most times we don’t even know how to deal with it. The word “vulnerability” comes to mind, along with the stigma America puts on it. Vulnerability has become synonymous with weakness. But, as Brenne Brown says, out of vulnerability comes true strength. It takes real courage to acknowledge and sit with the hard stuff.

A brother of mine told me that it’s okay to have these troubling thoughts, essentially encouraging me to sit with it. I think the beauty in the brokenness comes when you find others to pick up your pieces for you, maybe not to fix it, but to just be those supportive hands that scoop you up when you feel so fragile.

I may have a hard time knowing I won’t hear words from a family member as blog comments are read every morning or the fact that I haven’t been home since January. But it is something beautiful to know that here I can find comfort in the faces of my brothers and sisters who reassure that the work of the leadership course is motivating them to build Zambezi up. I find it in the hand of John, a little boy who plays outside the convent and has stuck to my side literally since the first second I stepped foot on Zambezi soil. I hear it in the comments from friends I hold close to my heart (Mahalo Nui Loa Hikaru and Brady for your love). Most importantly I find it in the brother sleeping in the same room as me, or the brothers across the hall, and the sisters we share a bathroom with and the sisters across on the other end of the convent pillow talking. These people have become a part of my family, a part in the museum of my heart.

The strength in vulnerability comes from the courage to acknowledge the hard stuff, to sit with it, and to not allow it to hinder any other precious aspect of your life. The beauty comes when in that fragile state, there will be someone willing to receive you if you ask for it. No matter how broken a community or individual can feel, there is always someone pushing behind, leading in front, or right there sitting beside you, who is willing to just hold you in your brokenness and reassure you that it is okay not to be okay.

We have less than a week here, and I hope we can put our words into action:

“I want to linger, uh huh.
a little longer, uh huh.
I want to linger with you.”

Kisu Kisu Mwane,

Jason Iloreta

Class of ’14

Hikaru- I’m happy to tell you Teo fulfilled your birthday wishes for me… every single one of them.
Bread- I cannot wait to go to Zola’s with you!
Thank you both for filling my life with smiles and love. Returning it to you now in forms of sweet lullabies.. haha. I love you both!

Wow. What an incredible opportunity this trip has been so far. I’m sure my peers have grown tired of my constant asking “do you guys know where we are?!” as I continue to come to terms with this African experience. We’ve traveled around the world to meet and walk with entirely new people in a completely different culture. We have all had the opportunity of a lifetime thus far, and are even beginning to call Zambezi “home.” I can easily say many of us have struggled, grown, and maybe even changed in this incredible process. To top it all off, our group has grown incredibly close throughout this experience. It’s hard not to call all these amazing, inspirational, funny and awesome people my family.

Tuesday morning, a few of us (Hayley M, Delaney, Shaun, Garret and I) set off to accompany Josh as he dropped Susan and Erik off at the airport in Solwezi. (Don’t worry parents Mateo, Brittany and Raymond Reyes were holding down the fort in Zambezi.) We woke up early, and with the rising sun, began our 500km trek east across Zambia. We didn’t realize we were beginning one of the longest and most challenging journeys we had yet faced in Zambia. 25 minutes in, we ran into our first problem. The inner tube of the left rear tire popped, as Josh calmly and smoothly steered to the side of the road. Garret and I (mainly Garret) were able to change the tire within 20 minutes, and with laughter about our bad luck, we were off again. Three hours later, a spiking temperature gage and the sound of steam shooting from the radiator alerted us to our next problem. We pulled over, let it cool, and compiled our water from our Naglenes to fill up the drained radiator. We were off again. For about 15 minutes. The next time we pulled over (thanks to the help of a stranger and some deductive reasoning) we realized the problem. The belt that spins the fan to cool the radiator and charge the battery was gone. We were stranded next to one of the smallest villages I had seen yet (the beautiful Kamakuku), 2 hours outside of Solwezi, in the middle of nowhere. Josh was able to call ahead to friends we were planning to meet, asking for help. The said they would come, and the wait was on. It was hot, uncomfortable, and bug-filled. Things began to get a bit hopeless. Some of us began rationing our remaining cliff bars and water, in case of an overnight stay in the bush. It was decided that we would eat Garret first. However whenever I would stare at the dead Land Cruiser with dwindling hope, a positive remark from the group reminded me to enjoy the experience. After all, this is Africa. Thankfully, three and a half hours later, Father Sidney arrived. Sidney arrived with a fan belt, and his uncle, a mechanic, on the Bishop of Solweizi’s orders. We eventually got the car running, and it drove like new as we finished the journey with the setting sun. We dropped our bags, and hit the town looking for some good food. I don’t want to rub in the amenities of the trip to my friends who stayed back in Zambezi, but it involved pizza, and maybe even a hot shower.

I was told recently that there was “no hope for Africa”. I have to disagree. I have seen an immense amount of hope in my time here. I’ve seen it in my fellow “Chindeles” (white or western people) who came here to love, and see how they can help sustain and empower people. I’ve seen it in people like Sandu, who travels miles just to learn, grow, and positively impact his community through the leadership course. I’ve seen hope in clean mission hospitals, and in villages like Dipolata who have a mindset of sustainability. I’ve seen it in computer classes full of people eager to learn skills that can empower them and their community, and in our teachers who walk miles (past a library rising, thanks to Gonzaga) to teach young Zambians. In the health group who has crisscrossed the area educating community health workers, students and medical staff. I’ve seen it in the little warm hands that shoot from every direction when we leave the convent, and in the warm smiles and kindness that surround us in the Zambezi community. There is a lot to be hopeful for, but turning the hope we all have into a reality is going to be the struggle. Actually, it’s going to be a lot like our journey to Solwezi. Tires are going to be popped, fan belts blown, and we can feel a bit stranded and without hope. But, just as in our journey, that hope of arriving at reality will eventually come. With a positive mindset, friends willing to help, kind strangers, the realization and appreciation of the experience and journey, good old hope and maybe even a new fan belt, one day, we’ll all arrive. And who knows what awaits when we do.

Much love to my mom, dad and brother Chad, as well as all of our friends and family following this blog from home. Your warm and encouraging posts are something we all look forward to. Susan and Erik, fly safe. We already miss you.

Agape,

Conner House, Class of 2015

As our group comes to its halfway point, we find ourselves crafting deep relationships among not only the community here, but each other as well. Touching, heart-wrenching, beautiful relationships that will stick with us for the rest of our lives. These relationships bring not only the “honeymoon happiness” that we all have come to know so well, but also the empathetic pains that bring some tragedies to life for us.

Many of us struggle with the idea of what we have to offer the Zambian people. No “quick-fix” answers exist in most situations here, so how do we repair the brokenness? How can we touch the heart of Zambia? My far too short, over-simplified answer is love. As cliché as this answer may sound, hundreds of Zambian children peering into our eyes asking for us to spread some pure agápe love serves as a humbling reminder that no other answer gives complete justice to the situation. Asking for us to get at eye-level with them, even if just for an instant, to share one beautiful moment with eyes and hands locked showing that we care. Although hungry and thirsty, most Zambian people here understand our purpose: to serve and love in order to create self-sustaining, passionate change. We bring unmatched excitement to each project with our presence alone. The quote “your presence is the present” has never felt more real. With our students so amped on our work with them, it is our duty to make sure that our student’s needs are met, so that the passion that flows out of them is completely harnessed and translates into a full satisfaction of what they want—a true sign of a servant leader.

Today I had a revelation in a children’s storybook that Katie and I read to our class. “Something Beautiful” speaks of a little girl who struggles with finding something beautiful in her life. Her teacher defines beauty as “something that when you have it, your heart is happy.” All of her friends find beauty in the little things in life like their jump-roping, sharing meals, and dancing. As the girl continues her search for her something beautiful, her mother tells her with certainty that her something beautiful is the little girl herself. Reading this book to my class instilled a wonderful reminder of the amazing opportunity each of us has to be someone’s something beautiful. I love using the quote “there is only one happiness in this world: to love and be loved” in this society because to fill a heart with happiness is such a beautiful thing. We all have the capability of loving, and, that being said, we all have the ability to go and make someone’s heart happy. So I challenge everyone reading this to do one thing: be someone’s something beautiful. Love on someone and make sure to accept the love back.

To all those reading back home, you all have been something beautiful to each one of us. Our journey comes with great joy, but also great struggles. I feel that as long as we continue striving to be servant leaders and unconditional lovers, happiness will undoubtedly follow. Keep on loving, keep on being beautiful.

Anyway, loveyouallgottago. Kisu Kisu Mwane,
Michael Hobson

First, I want to open by saying that I hope everyone back in the States had a blessed and blissful weekend and that, while we are all on the adventure of our lives here in Africa, we miss and think about you all daily. Before I reflect back on our time the past couple days I want to present a quote that has been my personal anthem during every moment of triumph and struggle in life.

“Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

I came across this quote when I was walking aimlessly around my hometown TJ Maxx and stumbled into the aisle with all the cookbooks, stationary, and journals. A journal with a simple black cover and Emerson’s quote struck a chord and I knew that somehow his words would serve as a constant reminder throughout my journey not just in Africa, but in life. Little did I know then how pivotal Emerson’s words would soon become, for I have been slowly broken by this experience in Africa. Broken by the stories, struggles, feelings of hopelessness, privileges I had once taken for granted, and sometimes even the smiles. For some that was especially true these last couple days while in Dipalata. This rural village, about an hour away from Zambezi, tested much of our strengths, stomachs, and spirits. Many of us experienced a series of struggles that physically, mentally, and emotionally broke us and left us feeling disheartened and discouraged. From sleeping on concrete floors that consumed every ounce of heat our body produced to escaping a swarm of unanticipated bees, the experience proved unique however difficult. Yet, amidst all the brokenness we might be feeling, there is also fulfillment present to mend the cracks. In Dipalata, I felt immense fulfillment through the unmatched hospitality we received. To see these people so willing to offer up all they have for us, when in reality they may not have enough for themselves, melts my heart and soul. We now have a goat in our courtyard back in Zambezi to prove it! I was fulfilled by the melodic sounds of children laughing, community members singing, and relationships forming around the comforts of a Zambian bonfire. More than anything though, I am fulfilled by the tenor of Zambian spirits when faced with unfathomable adversity. Never have I seen so much joy in a person’s heart or gratefulness for everyday given than within the Zambian people. It makes Emerson’s anthem resonate that much more, as I internalize every sight, sound, and smell. A prime example of this joy and gratitude that comes into my mind is of a gentleman named Sandu, who lives in Dipalata and travels to Zambezi to take our leadership course. This man has aspirations of building his own orphanage in Dipalata and has already undertaken two orphans as his own. He travels back every weekend, and is always one of the first to arrive Monday morning at the start of class. Although Sandu must bike 30km in the sand for a few hours each way, he never ceases to smile and radiate positivity. Just a few hours ago I found out his bike was stolen because he let a friend borrow it to take their sick daughter to the hospital. The bike was taken in the short moments it took for the man to check his daughter into the hospital. If this were to have happened to me under the circumstances Sandu faces I know I would have felt defeated. However, Sandu smiled and just appreciated that he still had two legs to walk (even though the walk takes 6-8 hours). I find myself compelled to strive for making the most of myself because day in and day out I am overwhelmed at how easily this comes for many Zambians like Sandu.

While Dipalata may not have lived up to all the hype we had heard from previous years, the simultaneous feeling of brokenness and fulfillment left me with a strong sense of how I, Hanna Edens, can go about making the most of myself. I must accept and appreciate moments of vulnerability, continue to expose the raw pieces of my spirit, and know that with each day I am broken I have my family here in Zambezi to support me as I make my way to finding fulfillment. When Lucy, Ally, and I played Inside the Actors Studio the day before boarding the plane and Lucy asked me what my favorite word was, I had no idea the effect this word would play on my experience in Zambia. Yet, the word fulfillment has somehow managed to become tightly intertwined with my stories and reflections on Zambia thus far and led me to making the most of myself and each day presented.

Kisu kisu mwane,
Hanna Edens, Class of 2015

P.S. A quick shout out to my family: Mom, Dad, Sara, Leah, and Erica, I love and miss you guys. Give Doja a kiss and lots of lovin for me.

Hello friends and family! I know that I speak on behalf of the entire Zambezi 2013 group when I tell you that we miss you all very much and hope everything is going well at home.

Believe me when I say that leaving my loved ones at home and coming to Zambia was a challenge for me. This is coming from the girl that used to call her parents in the middle of the night to come and pick her up from slumber parties and who cried for a week straight at summer camp because she was so homesick. In addition, I was also the sole WSU Coug amongst a team of all Zags that I had met a grand total of two times prior to our departure. So what in the world was I doing on an airplane headed 12,000 miles from my home in Spokane, Washington? In all honesty, I was crying out of overwhelming fear.

One day, when I was having, for lack of a better term, a total and complete freak-out at home about going to Africa, my mother bestowed upon me probably some of the best advice I will ever receive. (P.S., this woman has a quote for everything, so this one must have been good). As I looked at her with fear and tears in my eyes, she calmly looked at me and said “Delaney, everything you want is on the other side of fear”.

This statement could not have been more true. I reflected over my life and thought of all of things I had been so terrified of, but had ended up drastically changing my life for the best: graduating high school, leaving my childhood home to go to college at Washington State, and falling in love. Now, it was time to go to Zambia. I thought about how I had wanted to go to Africa for service work ever since I could recall. I honestly can’t even remember the first time it crossed my mind. Other children wanted to be doctors, firefighters, or astronauts. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, just that I wanted to do it in Africa. So what was I so afraid of? Change, I suppose. Was this really what I wanted to do? If so, this was just the beginning.

During our first meal at the convent in Zambezi, I could not help but notice that the serving dished were decorated with poppies, which have long been my favorite flower. Poppies were first placed on the graves of fallen World War I soldiers and have come to represent the transition between death and new life. I like to think of them as a symbol of the end of life as a person knows it, one of the most powerful processes of change. As I spend more time in Zambezi, I begin to see and feel a significant change within myself and the way I perceive the world. I find myself asking questions and constantly contemplating the answers. What are the problems in Zambezi? What are the solutions? How can they be achieved? What is needed here? One of the wise women here, Mama Love, told the group that in order to create change, a person must ask himself/herself these questions: “What do you want to do? Where do you want to do it? Find the gaps. Mobilizing the community is the first step.”

I came to Zambezi planning to create change. How arrogant of me. As nearly half of the trip has passed, I have come to realize that it is in the hands of the Zambians to save Zambia. As the Gonzaga Zambezi 2013 Team, our job is to mobilize the Zambezi community, to set sparks in the minds of its citizens. I have heard that a true leader is not someone that people merely follow, but rather a person that inspires people to pursue and accomplish a task themselves. I believe that this, inspiration, is our task at hand. Over this next week and a half we must do everything in our power to help build leaders that will inspire their community to improve their community and create social change here in Zambezi.

Today, several other students and I were given the opportunity to visit an orphanage in Kabulamena called the Falconer Children’s Home. This orphanage was established by an English woman by the name of Lillian Falconer in the 1940s. When she passed away, the first orphans that she took in began to run the home in her place. As I looked around, and watched the children play in a tiny room pink room with a single nurse, it hit me. The needed change in Zambia must come from within. I began to see the future of Zambia in their tiny faces and hands and it was, put very simply, overwhelmingly powerful. I realized that it would not come from the Gonzaga Zambezi program or any other organization. Of course, as human beings, we are obligated to do what we can to assist and promote this change, but ultimately, it is up to the beautiful and ambitious minds that I have witnessed firsthand in the leadership classes and that I am sure other students have seen in their sectors.

This is what has truly inspired me here, the resilience of the people in the face of all conceivable forms of hardship. People so desire to change and improve their lives and the lives of those around them. It is this ambition that has the potential to change Zambia and life as the people here know it.

Well, goodbye for now everyone! We’re headed to a social and movie night! We are heading to a rural village named Dipalata for the weekend, so we will not be blogging until Sunday night. Love you family and friends!

Delaney Dorsey, Class of 2015

All aboard the Zambian Rollercoaster! Complete with huge drops, breath taking highs, and loop-de-loops that will make you wish you had an empty stomach. The Zambian Rollercoaster is the most accurate description of my first eight days in Zambia. It is in these past eight days where I have found some of the most fiercely inspiring stories and also the most heartbreaking. I’ve heard stories that have made me feel extremely frustrated and others that have completely empowered me. Many stories are frustrating because you cannot help people if they do not want to help themselves. Other stories inspire and demonstrate how much human beings are capable of even in what looks like the most hopeless situations. We have been living in Zambezi for Eight Days and it is through the power of these stories that I have grown more in these past eight days then in the last eight months.

One of the most frustrating stories I’ve heard thus far was today sitting with the Catholic Home Based Care Workers. Throughout this journey our Health Team has learned to be flexible with our lesson plans but today a curve ball was throw our way. We arrived to do a question and answer with the Home Based Care Workers but conversation quickly shifted into a cry for help. Although we clearly defined our relationship with the Home Based Care Workers they were asking for handouts from the Gonzaga Team. Our focus is not on gifts but on empowerment of the community by focusing on sustainable projects that push the people of Zambia to stand on their own two feet. This put our team in a very awkward and uncomfortable predicament. As Gonzaga students we came here to teach and accompany the people of Zambezi and it was frustrating hearing the struggles of the Home Health Care workers knowing that we had no means to give them the things they asked of us. Hearing the story of the Home Health Care Workers was one of the lows on the Zambian Roller-coaster, but as roller-coasters go after a huge drop comes a steady incline, but not before a loop-dee-loop gets thrown in the mix.

I was naive to think that my sensitive stomach could contend with the differences in food over here in Africa. As I put it yesterday to Mr. Kawatu “losing my breakfast” was my free pass for sitting in the passenger seat on the way home from Chinyingi. (Don’t worry mom, I could not have gotten sick with a more perfect group of people. I am surrounded by two registered nurses, three future doctors, and three future nurses, not to mention the rest of my Zam Fam who are constantly checking up on me and making sure I have a full water bottle and an even fuller heart.) As I rattled and bumped down the sandy savannah road riding shot gun, the African food was not the only thing that was turning like a cement truck in my stomach. The quote Mary Oliver’s quote “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” has been a reoccurring theme that I have been struggling with during my time in Zambia.

The Zambian people have impressed me with their ability to share so openly the stories that have brought them to this moment. These stories have been painted some very clear pictures of different ways people choose to spend their one wild and precious life.

Tanis, now a personal hero of mine, is a nurse at Chitokoloki Hospital about an hour drive outside of Zambezi. Growing up in Manitoba, Canada, Tanis heard about Zambian nurse missionaries and knew from age twelve that is what she wanted to do with her life. After losing sight of her vision during her teenage years she graduated from nursing school and still felt that tug to come to Zambia. Right after graduating she booked a flight to Zambia to see if this tug was actually her path in life. During a Zambian church service a Bible verse from Isaiah leapt off the page. The verse was about helping God’s people and it was right then and there she knew Zambia was God’s plan for her life. She has been in Zambia 18 years now working as a nurse and has mastered every department from surgery to maternity. As a single woman, she has adopted two orphan Zambian girls who are now her world and lives a beautifully decorated modest home by the Zambezi River. It is through Tanis’s openness and willingness to share her passion with us that she allowed the Health Team and Dr. Josh to scrub in for a surgery in the operating room at the hospital. Not many people can say that the first hysterectomy they witnessed was in an African hospital, can they?

Boston, a Human Resource worker at the hospital, is another example of an individual making the most of his one wild and precious life. As Boston toured our group around Chitokoloki hospital we slowly realized that that there was much more to Boston then met they eye. Boston is an empowerer in his community, during his short five year stay at Chitokoloki hospital he has started a successful chicken coop providing protein to malnourished patients at the hospital. Boston also began a sewing room for women to make school uniforms creating a income for these women to help support their families. Both Boston and Tanis are people that use their gifts and talents to make an impact on the community around them.

My time here in Zambia has felt like the longest eight days, but it has flown by. Each day is absolutely nothing like the one before full of new faces and new stories. These eight days have challenged me to address the question in my own life, what will I, Allison Lynn Crha, do with my one wild and precious life?

We only have one life to live (contrary to what the Witch Doctor we met on Tuesday believes). One life full of as much laughing and loving on each other (as Connor House would say) as possible. Just one life. How will you spend your one wild and precious life? Will you be a Tanis or Boston empowering those around you to stand on their own two feet to make a change. Although I don’t have all the answers figured out just yet in my life, I do know that wherever I end up, I will be making the most out of my one wild and precious time here in Zambia.

Kisu Kisu Mwane *claps hands and pats heart*

Ally Crha, Class of 2015

Wow! We have already been in Zambezi for one full week – a week that, as my fellow bloggers have so articulately described, has been packed with challenging and eye-opening new experiences, moments of speechlessness at the beauty that surrounds us, and the nurturing of new seeds of friendship. This morning, as I ran along the Zambezi River, I was struck again by the surreal “Lion King like” beauty of the grasslands stretching indefinitely beneath the rising sun. As I ran, I was followed by the chorus of “How are you?” “How are you?” “How are you?” that we have all become so accustomed to hearing every time we step outside. We have found ourselves adopting this script (sometimes even subconsciously imitating the Zambian accent) – greeting everyone we pass with “How are you? Fine. How are you?” In fact, in my very first hour in Zambezi, little Wendy who greeted me at the plane taught me how to say, “How are you? Fine” in Luvale: “Muno yoyo mwane? Kunawa.” It has become a mindless exchange, a five word greeting that follows us everywhere we go. And yet, as this phrase echoed in my mind along my run this morning, I began to ask myself – How ARE the people of Zambezi really? Beneath the script that dictates they are fine, how are they really feeling?

Coming to Zambia, I hoped the answer to this question would be happy. I wanted to believe that, as I had heard several times growing up, the poorest people in the world are the happiest. Stepping off the plane, I did see happiness. I saw hundreds of smiling children, children whose smiles outshone the evidence of poverty that covered them – tattered clothes and dirt covered bare feet. I immediately saw in the children the happiness I wanted to see in Zambia. And yet, since that first day, I have discovered that many Zambians do not share in this happiness. Although my heart continues to beg me to believe otherwise, I cannot deny that many people here are plainly unhappy.

During my homestay, I experienced firsthand life with a Zambezi family. It was not the poverty itself – the absence of running water or the realization that the entire house was smaller than my living room – that disturbed me and pulled at my heart. It was the conversation I had with twenty-one year old Moses, a young man my age. Moses told me that he and most Africans dream of moving to America and never coming back. In America, Moses said, people are not bored because they have “stuff.” In America, people are happy, and, in Africa, they are not. I wanted Moses to understand that the image of America he sees in professional sports and on television is not representative of the real America. People in America live in poverty too, and, people in America, the rich and the poor, are unhappy, too. I found myself speechless. I didn’t want to belittle his own poverty, incomparable to that back home, but I didn’t want to accept the explicit declaration that one could not be happy in Zambia.

As a part of the health education group, I had the incredible opportunity to follow home based care volunteers as they visited patients around the “Bush” or rural villages surrounding Zambezi. We met our first patient sitting on the sand outside of a small shack. Having estimated her age to be about eighty, I was struck to discover that she was only in her forties. Words simply cannot describe the experience. Every last bit of her energy seemed to be drained by the beating African sun overhead. In this woman, I saw not only the effects of the physical deterioration caused by AIDS, but also the effects of emotional deterioration. The woman’s face held an expression of absolute misery and suffering. When asked explicitly what makes her happy, she replied curtly, “Nothing. I am not happy because I am suffering so badly.” Again, I had encountered the reality of unhappiness in Africa. On the face of this slowly deteriorating woman, abandoned by her children and struggling through every day, I saw utter hopelessness unlike I have seen before.

While in Zambezi, I have seen undeniable unhappiness and hopelessness in the voices of Moses and the patients I visited. However, I have also seen hope. Amid great darkness, the light of a single star seems brighter. Similarly, in the most dark and hopeless situations, small flashes of hope shine brightly. Amid the hopelessness of the patients I visited Monday, the home based care workers themselves shone as beacons of hope. Thirty volunteer women without medical training walk miles day after day simply to check in on patients. The patients have already received medical treatment from the hospital, and it is the role of these women solely to check in on how the patient is doing and above all to offer a loving hand.  Although I have only spent a brief morning with these inspiring women thus far, I believe they have shaped me already, by elucidating the importance of love in the career I hope to pursue as a doctor and in our time here in Zambezi.

These women cannot bring the physical healing that their patients so desperately need to strengthen their bodies. Yet, they bring all that they can and that is love. Healthcare I believe is only 25% medical care and 75% love. Love delivers hope even amid the most hopeless diagnosis, when a physical cure is impossible. These women shared love by travelling miles simply to sit on the same level as their patients and help them to see the unconditional dignity of their lives. As members of the health group, we thought that we would teach the home based care workers about health. However, they ended up teaching us about love, an equally or perhaps even more important component of healthcare.

The importance of love stretches beyond the healthcare setting and can help explain the work our entire group is doing in Zambezi. The “disease” we are all combatting is poverty, which we have seen results in the same state of hopelessness as does a medical disease. Like the home based care workers, we do not have an easy cure for the suffering we see. Money we throw at the community, clothes we leave behind, or even the classes we teach are not going to cure poverty. Although we cannot provide the hope of a cure, we can always provide the hope of love. When we doubt ourselves, we must trust in the power of love. I could not tell my new friend Moses how to cure Africa’s economic problems or how to find happiness, but I can continue to show him love through friendship. I trust that this love will eventually bring a form of happiness and hope greater than that brought on by physical possessions. In America and in Zambia alike people are unhappy for various reasons. It is our duty to all slow down, care enough to actually stop and find out if a friend is actually doing “fine,” and then share a little bit of love. According to a traditional Zambian proverb, “one who possesses wisdom has it in the heart, not on the lips.” Over the next three weeks, we must all devote ourselves to sharing the love in our hearts with the people in Zambezi. This is something we CAN all do.

Michelle Brajcich

Class of 2014

Chingoloshi Mwane! (good evening)

Hello to everyone back home! While you all anticipate the moments before these blogs are posted, I dreaded the time when it would be my turn. But here it is, and this has actually been a forced outlet to help me finally reason through some of my thoughts. Inadequacy has been a subtle trend among the blogs and some comments, and that is precisely why I feared this blog. I admire the eloquence, insightfulness, and overall positivity towards life my peers all have. Spending time and building relationships with them has truly been a blessing. They continue to teach me new things everyday about how I want to live.

Last night the power went out during our reflection time. Of course the best ideas when the lights cannot be turned back on is to tell scary stories, so that is precisely what we did. Sixteen “chindeles” all huddled close together in one bedroom surrounding a headlamp. We switched the flap of the headlamp to red to really set the mood. Madame Lucy and Hayley proved to be the best story tellers, filling our minds with the suspense of a near death experiences and a chilling history of the Music Mansion. With the exception of the retreat earlier this year, telling scary stories has been my favorite bonding experience thus far. This and other experiences have led me to find deeper meaning in a quote Dr. Josh shared with us just the other night. “Friendship, real and deep, is the foundation of giving that empowers” – Aaron Ausland. Between us chindeles, our friendship really has empowered me to step out of my comfort zone and be vulnerable with everyone around me.

Similarly, my relationships with Junior, Matubu, and Mirriam, have torn open my heart and filled it with unconditional love. Without any hesitation they each welcomed me into their homes, showed me their family traditions, and offered unheard of hospitality; most symbolic of all was holding a bowl and pitcher for me to wash my hands. They have given me so much: trust, love, laughs, and the Luvale language, and all they ask in return is that I am reliable in our plans and am completely present during our meetings. These three, along with their sisters, Beauty and Rachel, and the rest of the families, have truly become my brothers and sisters in such a short time.

Hailey’s blog asked what we have to give. I think that with our friendships we can empower the Zambians. Empower them to be the difference they are looking for in their lives. It is a common request from the children to, “Give me storybook/camera/ sunglasses.” Giving these things does not build a real and deep friendship. We are not empowering the children, or adults, to be strong in their moments of weakness and push through. They will never feel the overwhelming happiness that comes from success if we give anything less than our friendship.

Last night we hosted Mama Love and her husband Duncan for dinner. Mama shared her story and the hardships she has faced including having a small family that has since passed away. One day Mama began her own foundation to fight for the right of her people. “No one should ever suffer,” she explained. Her foundation, SEPA, advocates for the education of Zambians, specifically the people of Zambezi. She has opened many community schools and provides simple necessities like clothes to those who attend. Mama Love then told a story about an illness she had that she requested to have the highest medical care available. Unless the patient asks, or more so demands, this level of care, they will not receive it. Mama explained most Zambians are unaware they have this right, and therefore don’t receive enough care resulting in death. This was a very powerful example of the importance of education throughout the nation. It is also a great example of how Mama Love is offering a relationship to the community around her to empower them to improve their lives through education.

Whether we are simply kneeling down and making a child feel loved with our attention, or beginning a foundation to build relationships, both instances have a lasting effect on the individuals involved. That is what I think is our gift to the Zambians. As Mateo shared with us tonight, “No one will remember what you said or what you did, they will remember how you made them feel.” My new brothers and sisters have made a lasting effect on my life by making me feel so loved and challenging me to be as equally open with them. Many of us here struggle with the thought of not being able to do enough for the community, but I believe the mutual gift of unity can promote a successful future.

Kisu Mwane,

Lauren Bledsoe, Class of 2015

p.s. gotta go.

Today we woke up and nervously chatted around the breakfast table, gulping down our oatmeal and potatoes. There was a tense undertone to our generally cheery morning rituals, as our team squeezed around the table, which was now filled with flowers, thanks to Tamryn. The first day of our projects lay ahead. After the meal, our health team headed out, and I, with the rest of teaching group, waved goodbye to the remaining leadership and computer groups, not before snapped a couple of awkward first day pictures, complete with backpack and freshly washed faces.

In the four days I have spent in Zambezi, there have been very few moments in which I have been comfortable. I have tasted food that’s stared at me questioningly from the plate, I have stopped and started through awkward half English half Lunda conversations, I have been braver that I thought I could be, stepping out onto a suspension bridge, over the crocodile filled Zambezi River, into jeeps, speeding maniacally though the bush, or soaring over the vast African skyline in a plane smaller that my mom’s minivan.

So, bouncing along the bumping road to Chileng’a Basic School, I wondered why I was so nervous. After a week like the one we’ve all had teaching was going to be the most in my comfort zone that I have been all week. It was familiar. It was safe. And yet, as I looked out the widow at the cheering children out side, their dirty feet pounding the red sand to run along side us, I felt the intense and longing duality that has followed me since I arrived here. I am finding myself, all at once, both completely uncomfortable, and completely at peace. At times, I leap forward, feeling safe enough to take my first steps out over whatever river, metaphorical or otherwise, I needed to cross. And yet, once over that river, I feel myself swaying with fear and discomfort, imagining the long drop beneath.

Saturday night I spent my homestay at the home of Steven and Violet, who live in the bush, with no electricity or running water. I was blessed enough to go with my two fellow Zambia Gold interns, Conner and Hayley. The three of us spent a night that I will remember for the rest of my life. We sat outside, ate nshima, and talked and talked, our stories and opinions flowing as easy and soft as the dying sun. We danced in the unadulterated light of the stars and moon, the unfamiliar angles of the southern cross acting as a touch shining down on us, as we spun and clapped with the children of the compound. It was one of those nights that I used to read about as a little girl, in books too big for my lap. Those stories of traveling adventurers, who spend nights in far away and exotic places, that I loved so much. Throughout the night, the three of us kept looking at each other, wondering, “Is this really happening right now?”

And it was. All of this is happening. And somehow it is ok. We are walking an exciting and unknown line. We waver from comfort and joy, to the sadness and insecurity. This is Africa for me today, that one moment we can be dancing under the stars, laughing with all of our beings, and in another, we can be afraid, miles away from our comfort zone.

At school today, I stood up and talked to the children of classroom 7b about my favorite thing in the world: stories. I told them that stories have beginnings, middles, and endings, and that both good and bad things happen in them. My fingers shook as I held the chalk, and wrote on the board, but it didn’t take long for these children, with their eager hands and there gentle hearts to remind me of the other side of the line, the one we are always walking. There is so much sorrow in life, but when a child dances with you, or repeats a cheer you just taught them, or shows you the picture they have drawn for you, you realized that all of the moments of fear are worth it.

So this week we are straddling the line. For every moment of stepping into the unknown, brings us closer to the greatest gift—unwavering love. I feel it here. I feel it in the children. I feel it in our teachers, the adults in the village. I feel it in my wonderful team. And I feel it, stretching across the sea from our homes. Keep sending it, as we continue to step out in faith, and seek to bath in the light and life of Zambia.

Kisu Mwane.

Lucy Baldwin, Class of 2015

As our first Sunday comes to a close in this lovely Zambezi community, we all share our diverse experiences received through our homestays. For those of you not informed of what a homestay entails, it is simply a chance for this Gonzaga group to truly experience the typical life of a Zambian by spending a night with a local family. Although there are many extreme extroverts in this group, I know I speak for many of us introverted Zags when I say that I was beyond nervous for this experience (one of us may have even thrown up in anticipation… No it wasn’t me mom). However, we all knew that it would be one of the most memorable, illuminating, and exceptional nights of our lives based on the accounts we were given by previous Zambezi travelers. Still, one can’t help but get butterflies in his or her stomach as you hear that it’s your turn to meet the family you will be staying with for the night. My time came as I was removing my freshly cleaned clothes from the clothing line in the courtyard out front of the convent. Mainga strolled inside and Josh selected the two males closest to him, which happened to be Michael and me. While Mainga carried much of the initial conversation, the nerves began to fade on the walk to the Simoonga’s house as we realized that our gracious host was not just friendly, but one of the most easily likeable individuals I have met in my life. At their lovely home, Michael and I were privileged to have great conversation with Mainga, his brother Domity, and their father Alexander. These conversations ranged from what a typical day was like in both cultures to whether or not the first moon landing was a hoax. It was truly amazing how quickly we felt comfortable with this incredible family.

Although there were many similarities between our interests and daily happenings (watching movies, playing video games, and participating in different sports and other outdoor activities), many new and exciting events took place for us. Among these were trying fresh sugar cane and cooking a traditional Zambian meal, which included nshima and, as a whole, was absolutely delicious! It was so refreshing to see the warmth and genuine affection that we were shown as we became a part of their life for that night and following morning. This is a quality that I hope to embrace and internalize when I return to the United States, as I feel that this can be absent in many American’s lives. This, I believe, is due to an emphasis on material success instead of building meaningful relationships and truly experiencing the individuals one interacts with. It is a trap that our culture sets for us, and we must be able to recognize it and overcome it. This is not to say that all Americans are this way, illustrated by the deep and insightful postings we receive by our loving family and friends. I just think that more awareness would go a long way in the US.

At the risk of taking up more time than our long-winded priest did this morning (53 minute sermon = beautiful but long in two different languages), I will just make one more observation pertaining to Zambian humor. I laughed harder with the Simoonga family than I have in quite some time, except perhaps with my fellow Zags on this trip, as they are an extraordinary group. Mainga and Domity kept us entertained with fictitious tales about the origin of things or happenings in their lives. They embellish in a way that leaves your eyes watering and your abs in pain. For an extremely brief example, Michael and I were told a story about the origin of Michael Jackson’s dance moves. It involves and awkward young MJ and a cockroach that worked its way into his clothes. I’ll let your imagination take it from there.

Although each of us had unique experiences during our homestays, from homes with televisions to those in the proper bush without running water or electricity, we all were able to experience the incredible culture, personalities, and authenticity the Zambians had to offer. As we discuss these events, it quickly becomes apparent that these memories will have an impact on how we view the world as we move on with our lives. I can’t wait to spend more time with the Simoonga family, as I am sure we all will with our respective host families. We all owe a huge huge huge thank you to all the families that welcomed us Zags into their homes. They helped ease the sadness of missing our friends and family back home, while also helping us settle even further into Zambezi, our home for the next two and a half weeks. A special thanks to the Simoonga family and to all Zag family and friends back home that are giving us an immense amount of support.

Tunasakwilila mwane (Thank You)

Garrett Sutton, Class of 2014