Gonzaga-in-Zambezi

In his poem “The Road Not Taken,” legendary poet Robert Frost wrote, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” My road to Zambia started two years ago with choosing to write my doctoral dissertation in Gonzaga University’s Doctoral Program in Leadership Studies on the essence and emergence of servant leadership associated with students’ lived experiences in the Gonzaga-in Zambezi Program, which I titled, “From Zambia With Love: Enacting Eye-Level Servant Leadership.” After researching, conducting interviews, analyzing the data, and writing 371 pages, I graduated with a Ph.D. in Leadership Studies from Gonzaga University about a month ago with the amazing support of my loving family, friends, and a flock of screaming rubber chickens. This road has led me all the way to Zambia, over 12,000 miles from my hometown of Soldotna, Alaska. While I have experienced this tremendous program in Zambia through the voices of my research participants and my own writing for quite some time, it has been wonderful to have my own experiences here with a truly remarkable group of Gonzaga University students.

What I have discovered on my journey is that “the road less traveled” in Zambia is filled with many paradoxes. It has been disorienting, confusing, heart-breaking, and simultaneously incredibly full of grace, freedom, joy, wholeness, and life. From being overwhelmed with joy as all of us chanted “Go Gonzaga, G-O-N-Z-A-G-A,” while being baptized in the mighty waters of Victoria Falls – one of the seven natural wonders of the world – to seeing a monkey sneakily steal my sugar packet from the Royal Livingstone Hotel during “High Tea,” to seeing a pride of lions lazily enjoying the morning sunlight in Chobe National Park in Botswana, to flying in the co-pilot seat of a 6-seat bush plane and being greeted by hundreds of excited Zambians singing and dancing, to having an impromptu BYOHL dance party (bring-your-own-head-lamp, because the power went out again!) with multitudes of Zambian children singing Shakira’s “Waka Waka” (“This Time for Africa”), to scoring the first goal in a pick-up soccer game with a bunch of amazing soccer players and screaming “Wele!” (GOAAAAL!) at the top of my lungs and giving high-fives to all of my little teammates. There is so much joy and so much abundant life here. We have been and are being continually transformed by the connection, love, and joy of the people here.

“The road less traveled” in Zambia has also been filled with pain and perseverance. People have told us, quite bluntly, that they are suffering. We have seen it with our own eyes. We have felt it. Many of the children don’t wear shoes and wear the same dirty clothes full of holes every day. We have been to the hole in the ground where the women obtain their water and carry it on their heads, often long distances, back to their mud huts with grass roofing. Many people don’t have enough to eat. There is the pain of incessant illness, unemployment, death, and disease, in a country where approximately 1 in 6 people have HIV, while others face malaria and tuberculosis. And there is the pain from the Western world turning its back on Africa. I recently had a powerful experience with Alex, as we tried to locate a very sick man named Maxwell who desperately needed to receive treatment at the hospital. We drove into the far reaches of Zambezi with Winifreda, the organizer of the Home Based Care program in Zambezi, but we could not find Maxwell. We finally found him at the Zambezi Hospital, crumpled on the ground wearing an old tweed coat, looking exhausted and scared after biking a very long distance over sandy roads to get there. Because Maxwell could not walk under his own strength, Alex and I physically supported him, taking slow steps to his bed situated in a room full of other patients. During the time that it took for the hospital staff to get his bed linens ready, I just rubbed Maxwell’s back as he hunched over the bed continuously coughing, barely able to stand. As Alex and I lifted Maxwell’s very frail body into the hospital bed, the weight of the situation overwhelmed me. Maxwell died a few days later of HIV and pneumonia. I saw some men carrying a simple but colorful wooden casket near the hospital the other day. I wonder if it was his. I knew we couldn’t heal him, but perhaps he in some way he has healed me. It is my hope that he felt love from us during his last few days. Sometimes all you can do is be fully present, show love, and honor another person’s full humanity in their darkest hours.

“The road less traveled” in Zambia has been a road filled with music that is situated at the intersection where heaven meets the Earth. The music during the 2 ½ hour Masses is phenomenal – I can’t get enough. I find often myself on the verge of tears because the voices praising God in unison, often in languages I don’t understand, stir something in my heart – connecting me to the transcendent in powerful and meaningful ways. Singing and dancing are an integral part of the Zambian culture, and I love it. Finally all of my hip thrusting and gyrations that are often my go-to dance moves in the United States are socially acceptable! I also often play guitar outside of the convent to many of the younger children and we sing songs like “Chew My Gum With God” “A la la la” (Alleluia), “Radical God,” “Blessed Be,” “I just Wanna Be a Sheep” and the “Hippo Song,” just to name a few. It seems that everywhere I go, the children ask me two questions (after of course yelling “Chindele!” at the top of their lungs and repeatedly saying “How are you?”): 1) “Where’s your chicken?” (I brought a screaming rubber chicken that both horrifies and delights the children); and 2) “Where’s your banjo?” There is nothing more fun than jumping around playing my “banjo” with all of the little children jumping around me singing and laughing. I’ve also been teaching guitar lessons to some of the children and one of the priests-in-training, Brother Gregory. It’s also been fun to create silly songs on the spot for the children…it’s amazing how many words rhyme with Zambezi – crazy, lazy, hazy, daisy, corn maize, and of course Patrick Swayze.

“The road less traveled” in Zambia has been incredibly humbling and has given me something new to add to my resume: “African Bush Driver.” On the other side of the world, I have found myself courageously driving on the other side of the road…places my Geo Prism can only dream about. I have been humbled every step of the way, stalling in front of large audiences of onlookers, constantly turning on the windshield wipers instead of my blinker, dodging between pigs and goats crossing the road while I lay on the horn with bicyclists and people walking on both sides of the road and down the middle of the road, hitting enormous potholes that only Spokane could be proud of, giving students in the back of the Land Cruiser more air than LeBron James (all while shouting “Minone!”)…not to mention that this is all being done from the left side of the road, often in fairly deep sand. The good news is that driving in sand feels very similar to driving in snow. This has earned me the nickname Dave “Smooth Ride” Houglum.

These mad skills came into play when I was recently appointed the “Bus Driva” for the health education team of Gonzaga students and a team of Home Based Care volunteers from the Catholic Church in Zambezi. We visited six rural villages containing people whom the Home Based Caregivers rarely see without transportation – We delivered food, encouragement, clothes, and companionship. Each of these people we visited had HIV and differing levels of health challenges. One particular married couple that we visited deeply impacted me. While sitting outside their simple mud hut on little wooden stools about a foot off of the ground, they shared with us (through an interpreter) about their life, their happy marriage, their children, and their health issues (both were HIV-positive). At one point, they both erupted into singing and dancing because they were so happy that we had visited them. Both of them told us how hungry they were and that they didn’t have enough money for food or for blankets to keep them warm (it’s surprisingly cold here at night). The husband and wife duo then did something remarkable – they gave us some of the only food they had: five pumpkins. It is very hard to express the unbelievable amount of joy they possessed in giving these gifts to us, and the amount of overwhelming humility we felt in receiving these incredible gifts of hospitality and love.

Additionally, I have been humbled by the children who wait for me outside of the convent who have made me their special friend while I am here. They slip their little hands into mine and with their bare feet walk with me throughout the sandy streets of Zambezi, helping me navigate where I want to go. While we are not able to communicate much through spoken language, the non-verbal communication through gestures and smiles and the physical manifestation of accompaniment through our interlocked hands is more than humbling.

Being rooted in Ignatian pedagogy and spirituality, we have been intentional about reflecting on our experiences, seeing God in all things, and learning what it truly means to be men and women for and with others – on this road filled with joy, pain, music, and humility. They are paradoxically all a part of the same road we have all been travelling. We are all being liberated in this authentic encounter with the “Beloved Other” as we have learned to serve and be served where we are, see others at eye-level, and love those we lead. A quote that encapsulates the essence of this experience comes from David Diggs’ work, “We See from Where We Stand”: “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.” We have found that our liberation is indeed bound up with the people here in Zambia. Martin Luther King, Jr. eloquently echoed this: “In a real sense, all life is interrelated. All men [and women] are caught up in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be, and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.”

We have wrestled with some of the most challenging and perplexing questions facing humanity and come away from this experience not with easy answers, but perhaps more willing to embrace and continue to delve into the mysteries and paradoxes of the human condition. We find ourselves living the questions now in hopes that the answers will come in time. As the poet Rainer Maria Rilke stated, “Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves…Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

I am incredibly thankful for the opportunity to help lead this group with Josh, Melissa, and Nolan. I am incredibly grateful to the Comprehensive Leadership Program, the professors of the Doctoral Program in Leadership Studies at Gonzaga University, my research participants, the students here who have been some of the finest Gonzaga University students I have ever worked with, my family, and the people of Zambia for opening their homes, lives, and hearts, and for loving us into a new way of thinking, being, and acting. It was my hope to give you a glimpse from “the road less traveled” here in Zambia. May you too embark on “the road less traveled,” for it makes all the difference.

Kisu Mwane,
Dave Houglum, Ph.D. Class of 2012

I hear the yell down the hallway of our convent and home, “Dinner!” Eagerly, I make my way to our dining table and common room, where food, laughter, and deep reflection are shared simultaneously everyday. As I look at my seating options, I employ the dining strategy shared with me by a close friend and previous Zambezi resident. My eyes quickly hunt for the young Armstrongs, Owen and Grace. Finding a seat next to Owen, I swiftly walk over and take my seat, anticipating him “biting off more than he can chew.” As dinner winds down, once again, there are leftovers on Owen’s plate, and I scrape his plate onto mine, gorging on food in hopes of being full.

Zambezi is many things. Throughout my time here, I have recognized the privilege we have had in our stay here, not to mention back at home. Mama Kuwatu’s cooking is always delicious, and in some ways, my eating habits are healthier here than when I am cooking for myself.

Perhaps it’s because the days are so incredibly full, more full than anywhere else in my life, but though I have always been satisfied after meals, I have never felt full. Instead, I find myself seeking out Owen and Grace’s leftovers in hopes of being full.

It was in hopes of being full that I returned to Zambezi, after my initial time spent here two years ago. When Josh asked me if I was interested in returning, the question was not “should I do this?” but rather, “why not?” My time spent here in 2010 was absolutely beautiful. Much like my meals, I was hungry for more. Even upon landing on the runway, it was immediately apparent that Zambezi was still full. Full of joy, love, and life. As I disembarked from the plane, I was amazed at how many still remembered me, and I them.

It was then that my arms became full, with my heart soon to follow. I was blindsided, I’m pretty sure at full sprint, by Friday, a now 12 year old who has been in my heart since my last stay. In that moment, I felt full.

It is in choosing filling experiences such as Gonzaga-in-Zambezi that allow us to fully live. It is far too easy in life to choose something that will simply “hold us over” rather than filling us up. Indeed, for the chindeles spending time in Zambezi, a snack was not good enough. I hold deep admiration for the people who choose this filling experience. These are people who have chosen to go beyond their comfort zones, to do something different with their lives. Really, what they have chosen, is to do something that is filling, and occasionally too much to stomach. What they have chosen is something worth doing.

We do not have to be in Zambezi though to seek out opportunities that may fill our deep hunger. As a recent graduate, much of my time over the last year has been spent discussing vocation. Frederick Buechner said that vocation is “the place where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.” This time spent in Zambezi feels like tasting a bite of what vocation can be. Our days here are full. They fill our stomachs, our minds, our hearts, and our souls. Though I, like most of us here, do not yet know the intersection of my own greatest desire and world’s greatest need, I do know that it is because of experiences such as my time in Zambezi that remind me of a deep hunger to do something meaningful with my life. I do not want to take a path in life that will simply hold me over until another destination; I am seeking experiences that will fill me up. It is in seeking a life that is full that we are finally able to fully live.

In the last line of her poem, Mary Oliver asks the question, “what will you do with this one wild and precious life?” I do not yet know for certain what lies ahead of me, but I do know that I seek a vocation that fills my stomach, mind, heart, and soul. And I have Zambezi to thank for that.

Nolan Grady
Class of 2012, Zambezi Class of 2010 & 2012

P.S. To the members of group one: some serious credit is due your way for everything you have done for us. All of the projects have transitioned fantastically. And whether it’s a nice note left in one of the rooms in the convent, or a giant sign reminding us to “take yo drugs,” we have felt the love and work you did in your stay here, and are beyond grateful for your help in making our experience a great one. Tunasakwilila mwane.

Life is messy.

In Zambia I have experienced this first-hand both literally and figuratively. I am reminded of life’s messiness each night when I try in vain to “Wet Wipe” my feet clean before getting into bed. (It never works.) For the next several months, my heels will be permanently stained with the very same dirt of Zambezi with which the feet of the people here are stained. I can’t help but reflect on the implications this has for what it means to stand in solidarity with the people of Zambia. As the dirt will not soon be washed off my feet, nor will the impact of the people in this place ever leave my heart.

Life is messy.

Last week I had the ultimate organic experience of following my meal through the entire process of life to the table. I selected a chicken from a coop at the market, carried it home in my hands, held it down kicking and flapping while I cut off its head, soaked it in warm water and plucked it, cut it into pieces, and cooked it, finally getting to taste the fruit of my labor. I was next to kill a chicken after the one before mine got up off the chopping block and ran around spurting blood all over the convent courtyard, covering those in its path as it half-ran, half-flew around the yard for several minutes after the head was off. After this graphic messy scene, I couldn’t help but think of the greater meaning this admittedly disturbing experience held for me. In a way, it was putting a (literal) end to always “running around like a chicken with my head cut off,” a phrase I am all-too-familiar with now, thanks to this experience. The funny part is that while this experience was so shocking and repulsive to me, it is a very normal part of food preparation for Zambians, yet something that we as Americans take for granted.

In the same way that I will never look at a package of chicken on the shelf at Safeway the same (now with much greater appreciation and awareness), I will never be able to live the same way that I did before coming to Zambia. Like the sign on a stray boat grounded in Chinyngi with the words “SLOW DOWN,” here I have been able to recognize that I had been guilty of leading a life of “running around like a chicken with my head cut off.” I had been living with such futuristic thinking that I had forgotten how to live in the present. Being at Victoria Falls free to shriek with joy and delight as I played in the spray of the most amazing waterfall on earth reminded me of the beauty of a life lived in the present. In Africa there are only two concepts of time: past (Zamani) and present (Sasa). There is no real concept of “future.” Here, I have struggled to adjust to “Zambian time” where everything runs at a pace when things happen whenever people feel like they are ready for them to happen. I have caught myself many times glancing at my watch in vain, waiting for things to happen instead of letting them happen. How many moments of opportunity have I missed in life by allowing myself to get sucked into a concept that does not even exist here in Africa? As Megan warned our group, “searching for the point [can make one] miss the point of the whole thing.” This is a lesson I hold near and dear to my heart that I will carry home with me from this experience.

Life is messy, as the Health Education Team has discovered teaching about HIV/AIDS, hygiene, alcohol, pregnancy and the dangers of abortion, and Tuberculosis to various schools, social organizations, and the Home Based Care volunteers who provide care for patients free of charge. We have visited numerous rural hospitals and clinics in the area. We have gone on rounds with doctors and seen patients sick in their beds. We have gone to their homes and met with them face-to-face in their one-room huts. We have seen much, and sometimes understood little.

How do you look into the hopeful face of a Home Based Care worker who asks you on behalf of their patient if the anti-retroviral medications they have been taking has really cured their HIV and have to sadly say “no”?

How do you swallow the lump in your throat watching a doctor explain to a diabetic patient that his necrotic foot needs to be amputated tomorrow?

How do you take the news that the HIV-positive Zambian man your friends spent all morning searching for before carrying him on their shoulders into his hospital bed didn’t survive the weekend?

How do you justify warmly shaking the hands of so many eager people wanting to meet you and then immediately find yourself sanitizing your hands afterward?

How do you enjoy such a superfluous meal in the one of the poorest villages of Zambia while hungry children with pot-bellies the size of bowling balls wait for you outside? A place where, as Josh so eloquently put it, “we feel guilty for the hospitality [the people of Dipalada] show us, and yet they would not have it any other way.” How do you “allow yourself to be served where you serve,” in a place like that, as the article “Staying for Tea” by Aaron Ausland discusses?

How do you become a person not only FOR people but WITH people? Because as Fr. Greg Boyle reminds us in “The Voice of Those Who Sing,” “there’s no ‘us’ and ‘them’—just ‘us.’” How do we walk hand-in-hand at eye-level in mutual solidarity with others?

And how can I possibly return to a life of –excuse my frankness—such truly grotesque surplus in America where we have numerous kinds of dental floss to choose from when people here have never heard of floss, let alone used it? A place where you can actually buy “in bulk,” and “supersize” your “fourth” meal? The thought of what we are completely comfortable with and have even grown to expect in America now makes me cringe. Going back to all that “stuff” feels like a heavy load to bear.

There are no easy answers to life’s messy questions.

I can’t help but continue to reflect on the concept of having never been so happy with so little. I continue to be baffled by the amount of things I have taken for granted my whole life that would be considered luxuries here (electricity, CLEAN running water, a car, a computer, my bed, a roof that doesn’t leak, toilet paper, 3 meals a day, take your pick).

I’ve also never felt so welcome in a place so far from home. I’ve never felt so much unconditional love and acceptance from such total strangers. I’ve never felt such freedom to be me, or better yet, to just be.

In Zambia, I have been free to dance alone in front of a crowd of people with the revered Makishi dancer. Free to sing in a language not my own. Free to go without makeup for the first time since junior high. Free from the constraints of time. Free from worry about the future. Free to embrace the “blessed interruptions” that became small miracles. Free to hold hands. Free to just let go and let God. Living a life of simplicity has been so freeing in a way that I never would have thought possible. The answers to life’s messy questions can be found in our kinship with one another. Here, we are all brothers and sisters. It is the emphasis placed on relationships above all other things that make everything else seem almost trivial. It is the overwhelming love from the people here that gives me hope. I will never forget the way my eyes flooded with tears of awe and humility when our bush plane first landed in Zambezi and the overwhelming welcome we received from a community we became forever a part of the second our plane touched down.

Life is messy, yes, but there is so much freedom to be found in the midst of it. It is a Gift (as so many here in Zambezi are named). And I have truly found this freedom here in Zambia, and am learning to fully embrace the messiness of it all.

Kisu mwane,
Melissa Houglum
Class of 2011

P.S. To my fam:
Mitch: Happy 22nd birthday! I hope it was a lot of fun. Wish I could have been there! Glad to hear you are enrolled in classes. Study hard and don’t forget to have fun too! I hope the Cards are doing well. You’ll have to update me when I get back. Miss you lots. I hope you are figuring things out and happy with your decisions. Love you!

Matt: Hope your job is going well and you are getting to see some interesting places. I hope you are able to make KC your home and that you are making friends and settling in. For some reason killing the chicken reminded me of when we were little and used to go fishing and you always made me bait your hook. LoL. ☺ Miss those days and you more! Love you!

Rebekah: I hope your new job is going well also. I’m sure you have so much fun helping brides find their perfect dress. We will definitely have to catch up when I get back! Love you!

Mom: Miss you so much! Thank you so much for posting! We read the blog posts every morning at breakfast and I love hearing about what you all are up to. I miss our daily conversations on the way to work. I don’t even know where to begin catching up. Hopefully this blog post will help. I am learning so much from the amazing people here and it has given me such an appreciative outlook on life. I think of you often and wonder what you are doing. I’m looking forward to a visit from you sometime when I get back. I hope the wedding planning is going well. Hi to Randy also!! Love you both!

Dad: Thank you for your posts. It’s great to hear from you. I hope your Father’s Day was nice. Wish I could have been there to celebrate it with you. Love you!

Mom, Dad, Chris, Dan, Rose, and other Houglums: We hope the wedding was nice and that you all were able to spend some quality time together. Wish we could have been there! Dave and I send our love and hope that all of you are well. Feel free to update us on what you all have been up to! We’d love to hear from you. Life here has been indescribable in the best way possible. Love and miss you! -Dave and Melissa

Everyone: Hello from Zambia! Love and miss you all!!!!

Returning back to the chapel after a long walk to and from the Dipalata Mission Hospital, I geared up to teach my second computer class with Kyle and Nolan, to a group of forty eager individuals. For the members of the small community of Dipalata this class was the first time, and realistically maybe one of the only times they would get the opportunity to see and actually touch a computer. I cannot begin to express their excitement as they craved to know anything and everything about this revolutionary tool. These were the only two classes we would teach in Dipalata, and although it was amazing to be part of the experience and see the community members in awe of the piece of technology that I take for granted every day. By the end of the second session, I found myself somewhat discouraged. As everyone departed from the one room church I was teaching in, I sat on a long wooden bench where I began to reflect. My mind churning fast, I found myself asking questions such as “how am I supposed to make a difference somewhere like this in two, one hour sessions?” “Why can’t I give them all the information they so desperately want to know?” Sitting there in a daze, I was quickly awoken by a shout from someone outside saying, “We are going to go explore and watch the sunset if you want to come.” Reluctant to go, I decided to follow the mantra, “just say yes.” As I stepped outside, several children immediately latched on to my hands, yearning for the slightest bit of attention. As I walked and followed behind the group, my heart felt heavy. There was great passion and desire in the eyes and hearts of these simple villagers. This was not something new for me to see in the Zambian people, but in this small boma with no running water or electricity, a thirty-kilometer walk from Zambezi, the nearest larger village, Africa began to feel real to me. I felt hopeless. I paused on the path, and stared at the sunset wondering why it had to be like this. I soon was interrupted by the familiar sound of a guitar not too far off, accompanied by soulful voices. I walked over behind the chapel to find choir practicing for Sunday’s mass. I sat on a rock and just observed as the music poured into my heart. My somewhat melancholy mood quickly changed. Curiously, moving to a closer rock I realized that this familiar sound was actually my backpacker’s guitar that I had brought with me. The choir director had his eye closed and was finger picking a beautiful tune. I did not question how he got it, but sat there and listened with a grin from ear to ear. The other instruments were handmade but the sound was powerful when combined with the rich voices.

We were graced with their choir’s performance two more times before we left Dipalata. That night, after indulging in a feast, which was somewhat uncomfortable due to visible lack of food and resources in community, we gathered around the campfire. Once again, I found the choir director, Pepytex, with my guitar. He had somehow made his own pickup and attached it to a very old small boom box. As the night grew darker, the fire grew brighter, but not just the fire in the middle of our wooden benches, but also the fire in our hearts. The amplified guitar, which will be given to Pepytex next week, began every song with individual notes, followed by the rich decedent voices of the African choir. The first song that was played that night and the next morning in mass had the lyrics of “Welcome, Welcome, dear visitors, we are all happy today.” This was a reminder to me of the feeling when I had arrived in Zambezi, 12 days ago.

Two themes have been present throughout my time here in Africa, the overwhelming joy and love, as well as servitude. Through the music and dancing in Dipalata the paradox of Africa was revealed to me in a new and impactful way. During our time in Zambia, I have noticed something different about the people that I am still struggling to put into words. The closest I can get is to say they are free. The sobering experience in Dipalata exposed the way that most of Africa lives. Each of us were pushed outside our comfort zones as we slept on the hard ground, with no electricity or running water (no bathrooms). However, we were also privileged to share the life and joy of the people as over two hundred children and adults gathered around the fire, dancing and singing with more life than a newborn. They were proud of what they had, even though it was little, and they were elated that they got a chance to share it with us. Those in Dipalata, as well here in Zambezi have served us with wide hearts. Their happiness and joy was something that came from deep inside. Although this simple joy was especially present in Dipalata, I have also found it as I talk with Gladys, Naomi, and Lisford for an hour after Computer Class everyday, or when I help Benson with his homework as he teaches me Lunda and Luvale. On a previous blog post, someone had mentioned that in Zambia, they had never been so happy with so little. Especially after Dipalata I can agree with this statement. Although we are here to teach and to serve, we are truly being served and learning from those around us more than we could have ever imagined.

The people here crave to know. The people here love with wide hearts despite the narrow road they walk on. The people here are free.

Hands

Whether they be small or big,
Pitch Black or snow white,
These worn hands yearn to be held tight.

Some aged with wrinkles
Others leathered and rough,
The embrace of a single hand can be more than enough.

Every time we step outside
Little hands reach up in the air,
Searching for another hand to cling to with care.

Other times we shake the hands
Of a new friend saying Musana Mwane, hello
This simple sign of respect can cause a heart to overflow.

Every single crack and crevasse
Has its own story to tell
Each unique feature in God’s glory we revel.

But no matter what a hand may look like
The same things it can do,
These hands united together as one, no longer two

Because when we are holding hands
It is eye to eye we see,
And through this we realize we can Be Free.

Stefanie Watson
Class of 2012

P.S. Mama, Daddy, Jess, and Grandma! I miss you all so much. Mom you would love it here, everyone is so friendly. I have been reading Jesus Calling and thinking of you! I love each and every post! Dad-the music is unbelievable. I have been trying to record as much as I can for you. Also, as I mentioned the backpacker will have a new home next week as Pepytex will walk here to pick it up and it will be put to good use as it ministers to the community. Jess-I have so much to tell you and so many pictures to show you. Try looking up Dipalata on google maps…good luck finding it! Grandma-your verses you sent me have been encouraging and I can feel your prayers everyday! Give Dipstick and Piper a kiss for me 🙂

P.P.S. To the rest of my friends and family! I miss you all so much! Thank you for reading the blog and for the support. I have so many stories for you. To my girls-I can’t wait to be reunited, and don’t worry I will bring plenty of colorful chitengis!

Departing for Africa, the experience of a lifetime, meant that I was leaving two 96-year-old grandmothers and my pregnant sister on bed rest. All very emotionally trying situations. Allowing myself to be worlds away from them, meant that I may miss the birth of my niece or that I may not be there for my family if crisis were to occur with my grandmothers. Both life and death, were sitting on the doorstep of my home, when I said goodbye to my loved ones.

We have been surrounded by so much life every day we have been in Africa, let alone Zambezi. The children have so much life and energy as they greet us with beaming smiles and excitement, whether it be at the convent doors, outside the shops in the market, or even when they charged the planes when we landed n the dirt airstrip in Zambezi. As Brady has put it, the children indulge in happiness. This is really the only way to explain it. We can see such life in the church. We can feel and experience the Zambian’s life through their music and dance. We see so much life, in the way they greet everyone they pass and in the passion and excitement they show in the computer, leadership, education and health classes. We have even been able to experience the miracle of life, when watching a baby giraffe being cleaned and cared for by its mother, only thirty minutes after it’s birth.

While we have been immersed in so much life, death has been in the shadows and present in many situations. On the safari, the realities of the circle of life were in our face. As we watched a leopard chow down on an impala, oblivious to the fact that its time had come. We were hit with the reality of death and how quickly life can end, when we heard the tragic news of friends’ and fellow missionaries losing their life in a plane crash. We could feel the cold shadow of death when we returned a HIV positive woman, suffering with TB to her home. She couldn’t have weighed more than 80 pounds and had to be carried, for she was too weak to stand or walk on her own. We have even seen and heard death, while watching Megan, Melissa and Brady, murder for the first time as they each beheaded chickens, in order for the group to be fed.

The paradox of life and death, the joys and hardships in both, surround us each and every day. I often find myself reflecting on these realities of life, when seeing the sun rise and set. The sunrises and sunsets have been bookends to our days. The sunsets often leave me thinking of the miracle of life, while the sunset, reminds me of how quickly one day can pass, how precious every moment is, and how we must not waste our time on insignificant quarrels or worries.

As I have reflected on my experience here so far, I realize the immense amount of supported I have been given by those who I now consider family, as I worry, hope and pray for the best for my family while abroad. I have realized that the world is much bigger than ourselves. Much bigger than I ever imagined. That we are never alone in our worries. I have come to believe that there is a bigger plan for us all and we can not allow ourselves to wallow in the “what ifs.” That all things, whether sad and painful like the death of a loved one or joyful like welcoming a new life to this world, are meant to happen with or without us, whether we like it or not. They are experiences that guide us, shape us, and teach us.

The biggest lesson I have learned thus far is that no matter what struggles we may face, we must love, we must live and most of all we must be free.

Anne Reid
Class of 2014

P.s. To my family:
Mom: the comments have been wonderful to hear! Keep them coming! I am rationing out my liquids and it looks like they will make it the whole month.
Dad: Happy Father’s Day Dad!! I love you and can’t wait for our golf lessons when I get back.
Joyce: I think about you everyday! Keep that bun in the oven! Also when I see all the chitengis I think of all the cool projects we could do with the fabric. Ill bring as much as I can home ☺
Emily: I got some great elephant photos for you. Oh and the apples here are delicious. I think of you every time we have one!
Shaun and Danielle: I know you don’t get married for another week or so, but this will be the only chance I get to say CONGRATS!!! I am sure the wedding will be amazing. Danielle, welcome to the Reid clan!

P.P.S. To friends:
I love you all! Please keep reading the blog. I miss you all like crazy and can not wait to share all my sorties with you when I return!! And special shout out to Cole Cummins! Congrats of finishing Jr. High, buddy!!!

P.P.P.S TO THE DADS!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi daddy!! Happy happy father’s day!! I am so blessed to have such a wonderful role model in my life. You are simply the best 🙂 love you so much and I cant wait to get home to give you a GIANT hug. Much love always xo- Kate

Papa!! Happy Father’s Day!! I was listening to “Pride and Joy” today by Stevie Ray and I thought about you, as always! I hope that you and Erin and Mom got to spend a beautiful day on the Irish Wake at Chatfield! I miss you more than I can say and absolutely can’t wait to see you again! I love you. – Megs

Hi dad! I hope you and mom are having an amazing trip and I can’t wait to see you in a week and a half! I love you!!!!!!!! Xo – Analise

Dad! I’m sorry I’m not home for Father’s Day but I hope Mom, Colleen, and Sean treat you to something cool! You deserve it ☺ Much love – Kyle

Dad!! I miss you so much and can’t wait to see you soon! I hope all is well at work! Please say hello to the ladies for me. Enjoy Father’s Day! Mom, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! You deserve to have the best day ever! I love you all! Xoxoxo Erin

Daddy! Every time I look in the mirror or see a picture of myself, I can’t believe how much I look like you, especially without makeup! I’m so blessed to be your “Roya” and think about you every day. I assume you’re with Dar and the kids today, give them all hugs and kisses from me. Love you Dad and I can’t wait to see you in North Carolina (or Jersey) when I get back! Happy Father’s Day!! -Paige

As we tied a goat to the roof today in preparation for an upcoming meal, I couldn’t help but think you’re enjoying pulled pork or brisket. Happy Father’s Day, Dad! I love you! –Nolan

It is great being here with Josh and the Armstrong family but it was hard to be away this Father’s Day. I hope all is well, I miss you and love you. Thanks for everything. – Mateo Trujillo

I was really missing you today pops! I hope your Father’s Day has been great, can’t wait to be back and have a brew with ya! Hope you are cheering on my team right now, love ya big guy. – Alex Dickman

Hi Daddy! I miss you like crazy! Today at church in Dipalata the choir director used the Martin and the music was wonderful! You would have absolutely loved the worship, considering it was 80% of the Mass! Happy Father’s Day Papa! I feel soooo blessed to have you as my daddy! Love you and miss you! ~Stef

Happy Father’s Day Pops! I really wish I could be there to hang with you. We will have to celebrate when I get back with a Corona and lime. I honestly couldn’t ask for a better father, role model, or best friend. I love you a ton! You da man Ricky J! –Jay Orth

Hey Daddio! I hope you are having the happiest of Father’s Days. Even though I cannot be there to bring you breakfast in bed and jump on you to wake you up, know that you have been on my mind all day and will be getting some great bear hugs on my return. I love you so much. Thank you for everything. -Brady

Hi Dad. Happy Father’s Day! Hope your day is great! Things are amazing here in Zambezi. Hope they are where you are as well! There are certain things here that remind me so much of our time in Egypt together and I can’t help but think of that and miss you. Love you lots, and Happy Father’s Day! Also, happy double-deuce birthday, Mitch! I have been thinking about you and wondering what you are up to, and wishing so much I could have talked to you on your actual birthday. Sending prayers your way for all of your decision-making! Love to you and the fam (Mom, Randy, Matt, Rebekah, and everyone else!) as well! Look for my blog post in a couple days! Love you all! -Melissa ☺

Happy Father’s Day, Dad!!! I hope that you have an awesome Father’s Day with Grandpa Korman! Melissa and I have been thinking about all of you and hope that Liezl’s graduation and Johnathan’s wedding were great! We truly wish we could have been there for all the festivities. We also hope that the first month of your retirement has been great and that you’re having fun and relaxing!!!! Thanks for being an amazing Dad and for all of the ways you have shown your love to us throughout the years!!!! Melissa and I are doing great and really enjoying our time in Zambia and have been very blessed and inspired by the love and hospitality of the people here. You, Mom, Dan, Chris, and Rose are constantly in our thoughts and prayers!!! Love, Dave

It’s the small things. It’s the kind soul who lets one uneasy passenger {me} grasp onto his shoulder during the three hour trip to Zambezi as our five person bush plane dipped and swayed with the turbulent wind currents. It’s the warm embrace of old friends greeting us on the tarmac, as we entered Zambezi for the first time and the firm Zambian handshakes of our new ones. It’s the feel of a tiny hand grasped tightly in ours, fingers curled around ever so completely fitting into spaces we didn’t even know we had. It’s the absolute brilliance of the music we heard in church on Sunday, as the beat filled our ears along with every nook and cranny of the one room church house, until there was nowhere else for it to go but into our hearts. It’s the way the little ones scream, “how are you, how are you!?” after my fellow Ed group and I as we endure the hour long walk home from school each day. It’s how those “how are you’s” evolve from simple questions to conversations, to friendships. It’s the trail of kids that follow our every move, often accompanying us to the market where they will insist on carrying our newly purchased chitenges around, and where Moona, the tailor, turns those colorful chitenges into incredible masterpieces (so far our group’s collection includes, a drawstring bag, some dresses and a few totally sweet shorts). It’s the eagerness in the kids who wait outside our convent, as they ask for a ‘storybook’, a marker to draw with, or better yet, homework. It’s their bright, white smiles, so wide they literally grin from ear to ear. It’s the way Mama Josephine, our friend and luvale language teacher gave us a pumpkin and a bowl full of sweet potatoes as a parting gift for simply visiting her home (which, by the way, had the most incredible view of the Zambezi River). It’s the simple tangerine one of my students places ever so gently in my hand, as they extend such a sincere form of generosity to me, when they alone have so little. It’s the unreal show Africa puts on each evening as the sun paints the sky with a brilliant display of the most vibrant oranges, pinks, and purples I have ever seen. As one of our group members, Jay, whispered to me while on safari in Botswana, “Only God could paint something so beautiful”.

It’s the small things. And the Zambian people seem to get that so well. It’s a simple relationship, uninterrupted conversation, handshake; a direct look in the eye.

It’s the little moments in our lives that awaken our souls the most. It’s those moments that often go unnoticed; moments sometimes no one else sees, yet they are powerful moments where you have a profound experience with the incredible humanity that surrounds us each day no matter where you are in the world. It’s those small, yet powerful moments when you realize we are all the same. We all have the same hopes, fears, wants and needs. Most importantly we all have the intrinsic desire to be loved. I am constantly reminded of how powerful love really is by how freely the Zambian people give it. Their love is starkly apparent in their smiles, their hello’s, their hearty handshakes and amazing ability make anyone and everyone feel welcomed.

It’s the small things. It’s those small moments that make me feel alive; that make my heart full of wonder for this amazing life we are all living…together.

“Remember the little things for one day you’ll look back and realize they were the big things.”

Kisu mwane, {blessings}
Kate Van Amringe, Class of ‘14

P.s- Mom and dad I love you guys so much. You are constantly on my mind and there have been so many moments that I wish I could have shared with you. I will forever be grateful for all the opportunities you have given me, including this one. You both are amazing and I am so lucky to have such a loving support team. You guys are the absolute BEST.

P.p.s- Linds and Griff miss you guys like crazy. Linds- the elephants were amazing and I was thinking of you constantly during it all and griff I’ve seen some pretty sweet dreads….i may (or may not) be coming around to the idea 🙂

P.p.p s.- to all my friends and family back home I love and miss you all and can’t wait to share all I’ve seen and learned!

Oh and one last thing…..Blake and Erin if you guys are reading…Gram and Sharon’s baby was born!

Before coming to Zambezi we were all aware of the many luxuries that would be absent from our lives during our time here. Having but a few changes of clothes, the separation from the technology that rules our lives, and of course the cold showers never concerned me. In fact I was looking forward to a life in which I could live in these simple means. But the thought never crossed my mind that our showers would not have a shower curtain. A simple luxury, yet a provider of such a strong sense of security, gone.

Be Vulnerable: the second listed promise on the group contract we all created together one of our first nights here in Zambezi. One of the most important things I have learned while being here came to me as I hopped into a cold shower after a sunrise run. At first, I was uncomfortable with the open corner shower I quickly cleaned myself in, but now I see all the beauty in being uncovered and exposed.

I am constantly finding happiness in my time here and sometimes I can’t help my lips from curling into a grin. Being in Zambezi, it is easy to be happy because it is easy to be, easy to be free. The people here welcome us into their community, their homes, and their lives with the deepest pride.

I think I surprised myself when recognizing all the things I do to put up walls, to draw the curtains, to give myself that sense of security so that I can hide all that makes me vulnerable.

I find myself asking, why do we barricade our souls with walls to separate ourselves from others? Here the people are in such a deep-rooted sense of community and family and they take care of one another in such a way that there is no need for someone to be closed off. The people here are open, they are free to be with each other. In many ways coming from the States we come from a mentality that you have to look out for number one, which in turn makes us close ourselves off. In contrast, people here understand that if one struggles they all struggle, if one triumphs they all triumph. I have seen this when a group of boys helps the other to sound out a difficult word while reading in the courtyard. I have seen this in our leadership class when people share with us their life stories. I have seen this within our own group here as we all pitch in to copy lesson plans and homework for classes and activities that we won’t be participating in.

Why do we fear to open up our deepest thoughts and being to the world? Why do we remain to lead lives that are comfortable that don’t present challenges that test who we are as people? Being here has made me understand more than ever that we like to hide our own humanity. We attempt to protect our hearts but in the process we smother our potential.

I came into this trip expecting to have my eyes opened but I am glad that the doors to my heart and soul have been lifted off their hinges.

Everyday we are presented with the opportunities to be vulnerable and to open up. Whether it be talking to a member in my leadership class, having a life chat with one of the beautiful people I am experiencing this adventure with, dancing our “Chindele” asses off for the Makishi, or washing the days dirt and sand from another’s feet and having your own feet cleansed; we are all able to let go of our insecurities; you just have to say yes.

As I strive to “keep my heart wide” I am beginning to understand what it means to be free.

Mateo Trujillo
Class of 2014

P.S. Mom and Dad: With all my time here you have always been present with me. I really wish there were words for me to express to you my love and appreciation for both of you. All I am doing is my process to becoming a man you can be proud of. I love you very much, and Happy Late Birthday Ma!

Marcos and Milan and Mia: I hope you guys are doing well. The Armstrong family constantly reminds me of us, three boys and now the new addition Grace to the family. I bet the Daytrader concert was amazing. You are always here, especially when listening to Clarity as I made early morning breakfast with Megan. Mia I hope you did well on your finals and all the studying paid off. Keep that kid off of you. I miss you guys so much. Love you. And Happy Late Birthday too Marcos!

On the very first page of my journal I wrote, “Don’t wait for Africa to transform you.” Today marks the halfway point in the trip and already I cannot believe that I have to leave in two short weeks. I have learned so much from the people who surround me, the Zambians, the Armstrong family, and my fellow students. On a long morning run I talked with a few friends about the trip so far and we all agreed that it would be impossible to explain Zambezi because it is something that must be experienced. There is no picture or words to describe long days, unbelievable starry nights, and deep discussion about the meaning of life. The best I can do to share this experience is reflecting on a few moments of Grace that I will cherish forever.

When the wheels of the small airplane that carried us to Zambezi touched the landing strip, there are truly no words to describe the overwhelming wave of emotion that filled my heart and traveled through my body. I made it! The trip that I had been preparing for and anticipating was here for me to experience and make my own. Like I had been told so many times before, my expectations were shattered as tears streamed down my face and happiness filled my heart. I almost wanted to pinch myself because it felt more like a dream than reality. Children swarmed the airplane; the first group who had made Zambezi their home boarded our planes sharing brief hugs and tears. Although I was across the world from my home, I looked around at the members of my group and what seemed to be most of the Zambezi community and realized that we were all meant to be here. This moment on the landing strip was filled with Grace.

As many students have shared, there are wonderful days here in Zambezi, but as human beings there are also difficult times within most days. One of the places that the health group teaches is in the Chilenga basic school, about an hour walk from the convent where we live. On my very first walk back to the convent I felt an entire spectrum of emotions. In the beginning I was excited to be walking with the students from the school as well as my friends who had been teaching with me. I was enjoying every minute of the walk for the first half with kids on my arms and interesting conversations, but as the second half came around I began to fall behind focusing more on my physical exhaustion and hunger than the beauty around me. I was immediately snapped out of this when a passing woman carrying a baby on her back and a large bag on her head asked me if I was tired. Once again the people of this place were able to amaze me with their large, open hearts and compassion. I not only felt welcomed here, I felt a sense of shared humanity. This strong Zambian woman, who I only spoke with for a few minutes, filed my day with Grace.

Today, I visited the Falconer House where Josh and his family adopted their Zambian daughter Grace. I traveled with Josh, his wife, his three boys, Nolan Grady and the health care group for over an hour to see this place where Grace had lived for the past four years. I can say with confidence that every one who has met beautiful Grace has fallen in love with her large heart and smile. Watching Grace interact with her new family, the children who crowd outside the convent, and the students she sees every day I am constantly amazed by this four-year-old girl who seems to know so much about life. She is so happy and so capable of giving and receiving love. When we went to visit her old home for the first time since the Armstrongs had adopted her we had no idea what to expect. When the van we had been traveling in arrived, children who wanted to greet their old friend immediately surrounded us to welcome us and say hello to Grace. This place was amazing, run by a former orphan who fell in love with the only place he knew as home, and sustained by love and a desire to continue Ms. Falconer legacy of caring for orphaned children unconditionally. Amidst the overwhelming crowds of people who had come to greet us I watched as Josh’s five-year-old son Owen reached out his hand to his new sister and held it tight asking: “Grace, are you okay?” This young boy knew exactly what she needed, and blessed my day with another moment of Grace.

Here in Zambezi, my classmates have become my family. We challenge one another in our nightly reflections with thought provoking questions about what it means to be human, to be living amidst poverty, to be a part of a broken world where we don’t have all of the answers. We value each member of the group inside and outside of the convent gates for their talents and their individual stories. We empower each other to be our authentic selves and to see the goodness amidst the hardship. I have fallen in love with Africa, with the people who surround me; with the family of both classmates and Zambians I have been so blessed to share a month with in this new home. When I first settled into my room a note was left for its new residents with a simple message: “Clean eyes, full heart, can’t loose.” I have realized by trying to pick only a few short stories that moments of Grace are happening all around me every day. And with that I am falling in love with Life.

Analise Thornley
Class of 2015

P.S. Mom, Dad and Ben thank you for teaching me the importance of family and how to give and receive love unconditionally. I cannot express how grateful I am for this experience. You are in my heart every step of this journey and I am excited to share Zambezi with you when I return home.

PSS. To all of our family and friends, sorry for not posting a group picture, we are all safe and well here in Zambezi, loving life and living it to the fullest!

PSSS. Brittney and Katie, I am living in your old room now, thank you for the warm welcome and I loved the words of wisdom!!

I have never realized how much I use a mirror. Here at the convent, where we are staying in Zambezi, there is not a single mirror. In fact, I have seen very few mirrors throughout my time in Zambia. This small fact speaks volumes about the difference in the lifestyle I am use to, the lifestyle of a middle class, American college student, and the lifestyle of the beautiful Zambian people.

In America, the first thing I do is wake up and look in the mirror. I spend an excessive amount of time in my warm, comfortable shower. I use my overpriced shampoo, body wash, acne cleanser, shaving cream, and razor. I have to make sure that my body and my clothes are socially acceptable before I step outside of my perfectly air- conditioned home. If I am not wearing my freshest Nikes when I go to class or my Sunday best when I go into the middle school classrooms for my field experience, I feel that I will not be fully respected. Why is it that I do this? Do I dress this way for myself or because society has created unwritten laws that I have to look a certain way? Do I act the way I do because it is who I am or because it is the only way to earn respect? Am I being my truly authentic self or am I just being a puppet that western culture is controlling?

Here in Zambezi, I have found that I am loved for exactly who I am. I am accepted not because of the way I appear or for the talents I have. I am not looked down upon because I have a gnarly, patchy beard or because I get my Chindele butt kicked at soccer by children less than half my age. People here look beyond our outside appearance better than anyone I have ever met. The mere fact that we are human and we are living beside them is enough. I can truly be myself here. I can whip out the dorkiest dance moves in the world among thirty African children and be completely comfortable with it. I can walk into the classroom ready to teach in a simple polo shirt, the same khaki pants I have worn all week, dirty shoes, and an unshaven face and get more respect than I ever would in America if I was dressed to impress.

It pains me greatly to think that many of the people here with whom I have quickly created a strong relationship with would be just faces on a busy city street in America. They would be people that society would have convinced me to stay away from simply because of the way they physically appear. I would never have met Joe who hopes to be a pilot when he grows up or young Junior who hopes to be a soldier one day. I would never have met all of the extremely talented members of the choir who so willingly invited me to come play music with them. I would never have met some of the most beautiful people this world has ever seen. While these people are lacking in money and material possessions, they are rich in community, love, authenticity, and compassion. While it is heart wrenching to see the condition in which many of these people are living, I can’t say I have ever seen a community living out its humanity more fully.

This leads me to consider a very complex and possibly unanswerable question. A question that has been on my mind ever since we crawled out of our tiny bush planes into a crowd of excited children. Which country is poorer, the United States or Zambia?

I would like to end with a quote from an article we reflected on as a group titled We See From Where We Stand by David Diggs:

“We see that we are all in need, rich and poor. The poor know they are in need. By contrast, we, the wealthy and powerful of the world, are often oblivious to our needs. We frantically try to fill our emptiness with more and more stuff, more and more activity, but without satisfaction. Our endless pursuit of material wealth is a sign of our spiritual poverty. But being with the poor- as opposed to merely doing things for them- can bring a spiritual awakening and be the beginning of our liberation. We see from where we stand, and, for many of us, to stand with the poor is to begin to see God for the first time.”

Jayson Orth
Class of 2014

P.S. Mom and Pops, I love you more than I can say and miss you very much. I can’t wait to sit outside, eat some barbequed burgers, throw the ball for the pup, and tell you about my trip. You are on my mind every day.

P.P.S. Ry, Enjoy your last few weeks in Houston. I can’t wait to come visit you at your new crib in Colorado! See you soon brotha!

Family and Friends of Group One: The first group has arrived safely in Lusaka after having the opportunity to explore some of the beauties of Livingstone including a safari trip to Botswana and one of the natural wonders of the world in Victoria Falls. They will be departing for London tomorrow morning, and we will keep you updated on their progress home! And now a blog post from Group Two’s very own, Erin Murphy

As the three-hour mass at Our Lady of Fatima Church came to a close and we all processed out, with the harmonious sounds of the choir carrying us through the doors, I heard a distant chirp of, “ Erin! Erin! Erin,” (sounding more like “Elin”) coming from behind me. I searched through the sea of men chatting and the flock of women in their bright chitenges to find my ten-year-old friend, Charity, waving and smiling at me. She quickly grabbed my hand and asked me to come to her house for a visit. Since we had nothing planned for the day I enthusiastically accepted her offer and we set off on the short walk to her home.

When we arrived, Charity’s mother Harriet, her brother Richard, her sister Paxine and her new niece Gift, met me at the doorway. They all immediately embraced me with a cheerful, “Musana Mwane,” and told me to come in. As I entered their crowded 10×10 home, I couldn’t help but feel sad about what I considered their “poor living conditions.” However, they were not only happy to have this home but they were proud of it. Charity showed their family photos to me and pointed out how cool it was that the baby blanket she once used is the one that her new niece, Gift, was currently wrapped up in my arms with. After spending a few hours with these people and chatting about everything from Jackie Chan to our hopes and aspirations I couldn’t help but have a pit in my stomach for how I had approached this situation. I entered their home and immediately saw what they didn’t have instead of what they did have.

On my walk back to the convent I had time to reflect on my own ignorance and I began to realize just how much I see the worst parts of situations before I see the best parts. Living in America I believe that we all tend to see the glass as half empty much more frequently than we tend to see it as half full. How often does our need to point out people’s flaws keep us from admiring their talents? How often do we see a person as a stranger before we give them the chance to be our friend? How often does the poverty of a country prevent us from seeing the richness it has to offer? How often does the ugliness of the world blind us from seeing the beauty in it? Negativity and skepticism run our lives and in many cases they prevent us from seeing the best that this world has to offer. If we spend our lives as guarded and judgmental people we will miss out on all the goodness that is constantly surrounding us.

Here in Zambia we have been confronted with this “goodness” like a head-on collision. It is in the children that greet us at the gate every morning just to spend time with us. It is in the home-based care providers that spend their lives helping others. It is in the members of the computer class that want to be able to use technology to connect to the world around them. It is in the students in the leadership class that have a burning desire to improve their community. It is in the students who want nothing more than to go to school. It is in the gaggle of girls braiding our hair that ask to be our “sister friends.” It is in the families that welcome us into their homes and see the goodness in us despite our misgivings.

I think that everyone could use a lesson from the people of Zambia in appreciating everything that we have. I believe that if we all take the chance to reflect on our own lives we will realize that goodness actually, is all around.

Erin Murphy, Class of 2015

P.S. Mom, Dad, Maddie, Jack and Reggie I miss you all and cannot thank you enough for all that you do. You fill my life with more goodness than I could ever ask for. Who loves you more than me?

P.P.S. To the rest of my family and friends I want to let you know that I miss you dearly and cannot wait to be reunited with you all shortly.