Gonzaga-in-Zambezi

Owen, Constanza, Brittany, Lauren

During the several days that led up to the departure for this trip, I found myself constantly packing and unpacking my dark blue pack; folding and unfolding clothes, moving toiletries from sandwich-sized Ziploc bags to quart-size, and back to sandwich-size. I checked each container holding any form of liquid multiple times to make sure I hadn’t overlooked one that happened to be over three ounces; moved shoes to the bottom and snacks to the top, only to convince myself a few seconds after that maybe medicines should be on the top layer instead. And finally the day came when we set out to the other side of the world, everything nicely packed.

I realize we have one week left still, but I can’t help but think the packing challenge will become much more difficult when we depart from Zambezi for our return back home. I will want to take with me so much more than what my bag can hold. The joy, shouts, and smiles of the children who run towards us every time we step out of a car cannot be contained in any size Ziploc bag. There will be no side pocket that can fit the every-day handshakes with complete strangers. And Mama Kawatu’s warm smile would very much exceed the twenty pounds weight limit. All those things will remain in Zambezi, and I will be left with the beautiful, but abstract, memories that have formed during our time here. Yet I would find that to be somewhat unsatisfying, for we have seen and felt so much during our time here that it would be both unfair and wasteful to simply shelve those memories in the back, front, or side of our minds. Which is why I am coming to understand that the way in which we let this experience unfold when we return will be just as significant as the experience itself.

A couple of days ago, we asked our Leadership and Business class students if they believed we as human beings had duties and responsibilities not only towards ourselves, but also towards others. John, a tall, strong, composed, elder man who has recently retired from working with the Zambezi education system for over thirty years, slightly raised his hand and answered in a quiet and peaceful manner, “Yes, we all have a human responsibility to protect the vulnerable”. I left class with that in mind and have continuously been thinking about it.

Throughout our time here, we have been exposed to poverty levels (resulting from total lack of resources) which I had never witnessed before. It is this same poverty, however, which seems to strip away all layers of unnecessary troubles and worries, exposing, in return, the raw beauty of friendship, family, and community. Digging a little deeper it is simple to identify the core. The purest forms of emotions—sincere appreciation, heartbreaking sorrow, infinite love.

It was this exterior poverty which drew me to Zambia, as I recognized the vulnerability of the people that experience it and my duty to address it, in the best of my abilities. But it has become quite apparent to me throughout our weeks here, that I am just as vulnerable. Too little resources can be just as detrimental as too many. We seem to have formed a culture back at home which has set unnecessary levels of need for comfort and convenience. And this, in turn, has made us in many ways lose touch with ourselves. Being able to recognize this puts a new perspective in my mind. Vulnerability exists all around us and as part of our human duty for others, we must address it.

The true challenge for our group then will come in making the same passion which moved the fourteen of us across seas maintain its spark. And when it comes time to pack, we must make sure to fold tightly not just the memory, but also the intention. For continually applying it is the only thing that will make this experience everlasting.

Constanza Ponce de Leon, 2014

Football game vs. Chilena Basic School

PS. Pa, hay un arbol de bugambilia enorme justo afuera de la reja de donde nos estamos quedando. Pienso en ti y en tu manera de ver la vida tan optimista cada ves que lo paso. Ma, si vieras la cantidad de nin*os que nos rodean a todas horas. Hay un grupo de cuatro que me pidieron que les diera clases de matematicas e ingles antes de ir a la escuela… y me ruegan por tarea! Me encantaria que pudieras estar sentada conmigo en la banca donde les ensen*o todas las man*anas para que sintieras su entusiasmo por aprender. Dos quieren ser pilotos, uno maestro, y el otro dice que no sabe haha. Juani Banani! Como te extran*o. Porque no te saltas graduacion y te vienes al otro lado del mundo? Me acorde especialmente de ti el otro dia que un nino lloraba y lloraba y le pregunte porque y me dijo que porque habian mordido al hermano. Pero el hermano mordido no lloraba haha!! El amor de hermanos… If I don’t get to put another note before coming back, I wish you the best graduation ever! I’m so proud of you.

PSS. Group 2!! You’re in Zambia!!!!! I don’t know if you’ll read this now, but in case you do… we all send you warm hugs and wish you an adventure-filled safari experience!

Health Group crossing the Chinyingi Bridge

As I began contemplating what I should write about for my blog, I realized that many of you who are reading our blog might want to know what our day to day lives are like. I am part of the Health Group here in Zambezi, so I would like to share with you all what a Tuesday is like in our group.

People usually begin rolling out of bed around 6:30 am, when the roosters are crowing and the sun has almost fully risen. Most people head out for a run, followed by freezing cold showers. We’ve all learned (particularly the girls) that the only way to survive them is to turn the water off between latherings. Breakfast, which is prepared by two people in the group each morning, is served by 8. These are generally followed by a reading of the blog and comments. I would just like to mention here that we all truly appreciate all the comments we receive. They bring laughter, tears of both joy and sadness, and a true sense of deep love. Then we all head off to our individual destinations.

Today our group was joined by Aubrey, who’s usually working with computers but wanted to mix things up a bit. After some last minute editing of our HIV/AIDs lesson plan (our topic for the week), we were driven to a town called Chinyingi by Erik, recently dubbed “Uncle E”. This ride, which takes about 45 minutes, is always a bumpy ride and an adventure. Before reaching the town of Chinyingi, we must cross a very sketchy looking suspension bridge (see the picture) that looms over the Zambezi River, which, I might add, is full of crocodiles. We all hold on for dear life as the bridge bounces and swings back and forth while we cross.

After successfully crossing the river, we trudge through the sand to first the Chinyingi Basic School and then the Secondary School to give our lesson on HIV/AIDs to two 9th grade classes, a 10th grade class, and an 11th grade class. We enter the classrooms, small rooms with chipping paint, old chalkboards and desks, and concrete floors, to standing students of all ages, something we don’t see in American schools. The students do not sit until we awkwardly tell them that they can be seated. They listen intently as we give our talk on the ways you can and cannot get HIV/AIDs, ways to prevent it, myths about it, and reasons as to why it’s so incredibly important to get tested. Here in Zambia, 1 in 5 people are infected with HIV/AIDs, a daunting statistic. While here, we are trying to instill in the youth that knowledge is power, and that they hold the future of Zambia in their hands. Part of that is knowing your status, something many people are too afraid to do, even though it’s free to get tested at the hospitals here in Zambia. We stress that they and only they are in control of their bodies, and that knowing their status is imperative to keeping themselves, and potentially others, healthy. As the health group, we have seen the effects of HIV/AIDs first hand through our work with the Home Based Care in the area. Home Based Care is a volunteer-based organization that is comparable to Meals on Wheels back home; volunteers travel to people’s homes to bring them food, medication, and most importantly, comfort. Last week, we went on two home visits, both HIV positive patients. We were also privileged enough to be able to sit in on a few HIV/AIDs support groups here in the local area. So now that I have seen the heartbreaking effects of HIV/AIDs,  I feel particularly invested in trying to empower these young adults to change that statistic of the amount of people living positively. We left the schools feeling accomplished, hopeful, and inspired.

After leaving the schools, we ate lunch on the steps of the Catholic church, a simple concrete building with beautiful stained glass windows and built, as with all the Catholic churches here, in the shape of a cross. We then walked over to the Chinyingi Home Based Care building, where we gave another lesson to the caregivers, some who had walked three hours just to hear us talk. This is something that has been particularly inspiring to me. People are so eager to learn and know more about health that they will travel hours to talk to us for just one hour. It is both humbling and inspiring.

Upon our arrival back at the convent, which in two short weeks has become just as much home as the dorms were, we dive into a feast prepared by the beautiful and amazing Mama Kawatu who, today, was assisted by Brittany. These dinners have truly become family dinners, with Lisa, Uncle E, and all the Armstrongs included in that family. After dinner and all the dishes are done, we settle  in the living room area for reflection. Tonight we were honored by a special guest, Francis, who is a social worker, and actually helped the Armstrongs find their new pride and joy, Peggy Grace. He told us his story and encouraged us to live with integrity and passion. Once finishing reflection and assigning new chores for the next day (it really is a family, we all have to pitch in) we have the rest of the night to ourselves. We have down time to bond, work on our projects, or in Blake’s case, frantically finish The Hunger Games so he can read the second book before Eli Armstrong, who, I might add, is only ten. Another full Zambian day has come to a close, and we all climb into our mosquito net forts, waiting for the roosters to wake us up again, ready for a new day and new adventures.

Hope this helped you all get an idea in your head about what we do here!

All my love,

Kellie Healy

Class of ‘14

PS. Mom, Dad, and fam…. Miss you guys and love you so much! I’m thinking of you all constantly.

PPS. I’m sure they’ve already left, but I want to send good thoughts and wishes to the second group as they embark on their amazing journey to Zambia today. We can’t wait to see you guys as we trade planes!

PPPS. “Don’t you wanna stay here a little while, don’t you wanna hold each other tight, don’t you want to fall asleep with me tonight” Haha 🙂

Dipalata

It has been somewhere around ten days since our arrival to Zambezi, and although that may not sound like a long time, I have a hard time remembering what life was like before arriving here. Since being in Zambia we have had a whirlwind of emotions and feelings towards the new world we have been submerged into. Friendships have been created, plenty of laughter has been shared, and some tears of joy and sadness have been shed as well.

This weekend we traveled to a small village located about an hour outside of Zambezi. This community known as Dipalata welcomed us with full hearts, love, and excitement just to have our presence in their village. We were greeted by the beautiful voices of the Zambian women welcoming us through song and a large feast. I felt like a celebrity among these people who did not know me at all. We ate in a small hut while malnourished children waited outside for us to finish our dinner. I couldn’t help but feel guilty for eating my third meal of the day knowing that some people here probably hadn’t eaten in days. Questions were running through my head and I couldn’t help but feel a cloud of sadness surrounding my heart. How could these people treat me so well when I am a complete stranger? I never would have been welcomed in America by a group of strangers with singing, dancing, and heaps of food. Each day I am continuously reminded that the people of Zambia are so much richer than us in countless ways. They carry themselves with strength, continue to give to others, welcome everyone with kindness, and never cease to acknowledge the presence of others. I am shocked by the richness of character and faith these people possess while being so poor in more materialistic areas.

Thinking about this brought me back to one of my favorite quotations from an article we read in reflection last week. “But the closer we stand with the poor, the more we can see from their perspective. Important things that were once invisible to us become clearer. We see that we are all in need, rich and poor.” Being in Dipalata truly allowed us to stand with the poor and reinforced to me that I am in no place to say that I live a richer life than any Zambian. I have encountered countless Zambians who believe America is a dream world with little faults. While in a Dipalata, I held a conversation with a young boy who welcomed me and then asked what I had brought him. He asked over and over what I had brought from America, stating that America must be a great place.  I am not by any means denying that we live in a great world full of opportunities for growth and success but I do not believe that we are rich in all aspects of life. We are weak in heart compared to the strength of the people I meet here in Zambia. Not any one place or person will ever be perfect, but the simplicity of life here gives me hope that one day more people in our world will be able to live with more open hearts to others with less focus on materialistic items.

Finding the balance between the way I live at home and the way people live in Africa is consistently on my mind. An even ground between “too much” and “too little” needs to be established. There is no better world to live in because both lack in different things. The people of Africa lack in many of the basic necessities of life while the western world lacks in an appreciation for people, life, and spirit. We are all in need, just in different areas. Striving to appreciate the simplicities and joy of the people in my life and just enjoying the small things in life will help myself live with the richness of the Zambians.

If the world were a perfect place I would snap my fingers and fix the deeply rooted problems that many African countries face. Unfortunately, the most I can do is serve alongside these people and learn from them hoping that one day more people will be able to live with the joy, faith, and strength of these people. I have begun to see that in order to fix the problems that overwhelm these countries with poverty, HIV/Aids, and starvation I must first understand the people and the history of Zambia.

After arriving home on Sunday night from our stay in Dipalata I was more than thankful for the luxurious convent that we are now referring to as the “Ritz.” The ice cold shower was welcomed happily as well as our slightly creaky beds. But most importantly I realized that although I may not be able to solve all the problems of Africa, just being here with these people may be enough. Instead of crying for these people, I left Dipalata smiling for their happiness and appreciation for life, hoping that if I ever had to live in these conditions that I would be able to carry myself with the spirit and happiness that they each do.

I have a favorite quotation that goes a little bit like this that I would like to end this entry with, “the mystery of life is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced.”

Katie Hayes, Class of 2014

P.S. I would just like to thank all of our readers for following our African journey with us. Much love to you all! And we all wish the second group the best of travels as they depart for Africa tomorrow!

Our Zambezi Leadership Class

New experiences flow in and out of our lives with each breath. They each bring about different triumphs, trials, questions, or answers. Throughout each of my experiences, I hope to uncover some sort of universal truth. A universal truth that can attempt to connect these trials and triumphs of the world, perhaps unite us all, or at least provide some explanation for twists and turns of human life.

So far during my Zambian experience, I have been frustrated, inspired, welcomed, confused, lifted, and a slew of other emotions I have yet to find a word to describe. All of these emotions leave me with numerous unanswered questions and most of these questions will probably never be answered, a conclusion that I must learn to accept. Yet despite so many unknowns, I was able to uncover what I believe to be a universal truth.  And this truth can be described as the constant thirst.

Often as Westerners we hear about the issue of water sanitation that faces many developing nations, especially in various parts of Africa. Being here now, I do see the need for sanitary water to nourish the thirsty bodies. Yet, throughout the conversations I have shared and images I have seen, there is an even greater thirst than the thirst for clean water. And that is the thirst for education. The incredible Zambian people I have met share a deep desire to gain and share knowledge. The requests to learn, read, or teach are never-ending. Zambians are craving for this thirst to be quenched, a craving that is expressed in numerous conversations and events throughout our days here.

Soon into a conversation with one of the children who wait anxiously at the gate of our convent, you will find they ask for books or to be read a storybook. Last Sunday, a girl named Sarah asked me to read to her. Within minutes there were at least 20 children crowded around me straining to hear about the adventures of Scooby Doo and Shaggy. One of our most treasured Zambian students and friend, Julius, asked how many classes he needed to take from us to receive a diploma, in hopes that we would be providing him one after his third year of taking the leadership class. And like Julius, many other Zambians will do anything to realize the dream of possessing a diploma, a tangible representation of possessing the knowledge they desire to soak in. Even when the leadership team met with the District Councilman the other day, he explained to us that Zambia would only truly grow if they invested in creating more higher learning institutions. And when we asked what we can do while we are in Zambezi, he didn’t ask us to give money or encourage Americans to send aid. He simply said we should go to the local market and share what we know with the people who must work all day long to make a living.

Yes, people do ask us Chindele (aka “white person” in Luvali, a common phrase shouted in the streets whenever we walk just about anywhere) for money or donations, but at least what I have found so far is that the overwhelming question is for education, books, or the chance to take university classes.

And the best thing about this question is that is can be answered, unlike so many of the other questions that are plaguing all of our minds in Zambia. Now maybe we can’t provide books for every child that wants one, but we can retell our favorite childhood story and paint vivid pictures in their mind. Maybe we can’t pay someone’s tuition for university courses, but we can take time out of our day to sit and converse with them about the topics discussed in a 101 psychology or biology course. Every person has a unique and beautiful knowledge within them crafted from the wonderful and challenging occurrences of life. You may not be here in Zambia with us right now being surrounded by numerous daily requests to learn, but the thirst for knowledge is everywhere. Look around you and see how you can share the amazing knowledge within you. Sharing that knowledge creates a connection that cannot be broken by war, cultural differences, poverty, or violence. A connection created by a universal truth to unite us all.

Team building exercise

So there are and always will be the unanswered questions that have presented themselves here, but at least I know that when I do have to say goodbye to this incredible community, I will be bringing home one piece of my life puzzle. It may be a daunting universal thirst to quench, but the experiences, stories, and people here that showed me this universal truth will be my inspiration and source of passion. I can now carry away with me a greater sense of purpose in my life, a gift given to me in only a week of living here. And for this gift, people of Zambezi and all those in my life that have shown me this truth, I will forever thank you.

Agape,

Lauren Ferguson, Class of 2014

P.S.

Mama, in all my travels and experiences, along with the universal desire for knowledge, I have found all over the world the universal strength and influence of women. The loving hearts of incredibly strong women often shape cultures, families, social movements, and communities. Yet, out of all the insanely wonderful woman who scatter the globe, I will never meet a woman who puts the same strength in my soul, love in my heart, and inspiration in my life that you do as my mother. I am truly and forever blessed. Love you and miss you. Bubby, love and miss you too, you better be taking care of her.

P.S.S.

To all of our family and friends, thank you for the love and support you have shown through your posts. You leave us in joyful tears each morning we read the blog posts at breakfast. I know each of us is thankful for the influence you have and will continue to have on our lives. You are loved and appreciated.

Why are you going to Africa?

This was a question I was frequently asked when telling friends and family about my plans to come to Zambezi with the Gonzaga group; and the truth is I still think about this question every day. Before coming, I generally answered this question by saying that I would be teaching computer classes. This statement is true, but is it really the reason I am here? I frequently find myself frustrated because I don’t fully understand Zambezi, and from not understanding Zambezi I feel like I cannot effectively function in the community. The people here are beautiful—determined, welcoming, and strong—but it is difficult for me to know whether the relationships I am building are based on genuine affection or not. Much of the time I feel like the rich “chindele” who has come to provide something. I know that is not my intention, but it is often how I think people view me, and us as a collective group. I have encountered this problem especially with the children. I know so many of them are just eager to be loved, but I can’t help the feeling of thinking these children may just be playing with my emotions. I begin to grow close to certain children only to find out that they really just want to use the bicycles we possess or have a chance to listen to music on our computers. Is it their fault that they have never ridden a bicycle or used a computer? Of course not, but it nonetheless makes me feel like an ignorant outsider.

I was recently told by one of our computer students that it is important to leave a legacy wherever you are. He was specifically referring to the computer program and how he feels it must become more sustainable. The computer group was very upset when we arrived in Zambezi to find no computer lab, but instead discovered dusty computers that had rarely been used since last summer’s group was in Zambezi. We immediately knew that this was a major problem; how can our program lead to sustainability for Zambezi when our students don’t even have access to computers when we are gone. It is imperative that a lab remains open when we leave Zambia; this has become our main goal since seeing the lab on the first day here. While we have identified one issue that needs our attention, I find myself struggling to identify problems that the people of Zambezi are concerned about. During the months leading up to our departure for Zambia we focused a great deal on the idea of accompaniment. Accompaniment is seen as operating at eye-level with others and truly striving to understand cultures other than our own. I am a firm believer that it is impossible to serve in a community like Zambezi without first becoming familiar with the region’s customs, values, and religions. Ultimately, I am left with the realization that we will never truly accompany the Zambian people. This may seem like a pessimistic view, but that is not how I intend it. We are simply not in Zambezi long enough to become part of the community. We live a sheltered existence where we are exposed to small realities of life in Africa, but are then able to return to our safe haven at the convent. However, this does not take away from our presence in Zambezi.

We are constantly reminded that our presence in Zambezi leaves a strong impact on the community. That is the thing that is so incredible about these people—just us being here is enough. Some may want things from us, but the thing that I am quickly realizing is that we all just want to be loved. One moment of my journey that I will never forget took place several days ago when returning to the convent after witnessing another beautiful Zambian sunset. I was walking alone when I bumped into a man heading the opposite direction of me. We shook hands and then he reversed his direction and began walking with me while at the same time wrapping his arm around my shoulder. Granted, this was a man I had never met in my life. He explained that he was from Lusaka and had come to work on a water purification problem Zambezi was facing. I thanked him for his warm welcome and expressed my appreciation for the welcome we had received all throughout Zambia from the moment we left the airport. He suddenly stopped, looked me in the eyes and said, “We are the same, you and me. Why would I not welcome you?” I will never forget this interaction.

I would like to leave you with a welcome speech that the health group received upon a visit to a home based care group  in Chingalala.  These words were written by Madame Ellah Machayi who failed to deliver the speech herself due to vision impairment resulting from the HIV medication she is currently taking. I hope you all are moved as we were.

Ufuku mwane,

John Farley, Class of 2014

P.S. Happy belated birthday Syd the Kid, I love you.

Chingalala Support Group Welcome Speech

Written by Madame Ellah Machayi for the Gonzaga Health Education group visit

May 23, 2012

The team leader Natalie, our visitors from the United States of America, the coordinator of NZP+, all widows, orphans, widowers and terminally ill –

May I say all protocol observed.

We are all very happy to have you in our midst. You’ve travelled thousands of kilometers across oceans and seas risking your lives to be with us.

You have demonstrated a great passion for the people of Zambia and Zambezi especially us that are vulnerable. Our vulnerability usually isolates us from the “have-it-all”.

Your presence only has given us great hope that you have unknowingly put a smile on our faces and given mercy and great joy to our hearts.

At this I would like to say “Welcome to Zambia and its friendly and generous people”

We understand the economic hardships that are going by through out the world, the economic recessions in America, UK, Germany, etc.

This however will not be a stumbling block for any form of assistance that you may need to render to us.

We don’t want to remain depressed in our various situations. We need to start to stand up and realize our own potentials. We only need that type of assistance which can sustain our lives not a loaf of bread and butter but something we can love on with hope for years and generations to come.

Madam Natalie in our midst are orphaned children, widows, widowers, those living with HIV aids. This is not the end of the world, we still, if given a chance, opportunity, or platform can become very independent, well meaning and dependable citizens contributing to out national development.

We are in our state but our potentials speak volumes. Any form of assistance that will be rendered to us, we shall call it a blessing indeed and may the good lord give you the warmest hears of all.

God bless you all.  Thank you.

A quick disclaimer, please do not read the previous blog written by Erin or it will make mine look like it was written by a third grader. Beginning to write this blog, it has occurred to me that we as a group have experienced so much. The Zambian people have touched our lives and our hearts in less than a week and we all look forward to learning from them in whatever unexpected way. These experiences have begun to meld together to form a picture of who the Zambian people are.  However, many of our experiences have been of welcoming and happiness, starting with the singing and dancing we watched on landing in Zambezi to the warm hospitality we found on Sunday in Church. As we continue to live and teach here, the different programs are beginning to realize the harsh realities of a developing country in poverty.

As a part of the health program, today we were allowed the opportunity to shadow Mama Winifreda, one of the administrators of home based care, to witness first hand the HIV/AIDS problem in Africa. We met a beautiful girl named Christina, who was an eight year old girl diagnosed four years ago with HIV. She was smaller than a usual eight year old and had a large rash on the back of her leg, typical for a girl with HIV. The reality of her situation was clearly understood when we learned that both of her parents had died from AIDS, and her aunt and uncle taking care of her could only afford one meal a day. We learned that many HIV patients become sick when taking their medicine if they do not have anything to eat, and so becomes a problem for poor HIV patients. After we met with the girl, Josh asked me what I thought and all I could say is “it’s real”. I feel like this is one of the realities that we must see and understand to truly comprehend the true dynamics of the Zambezi community. The country of Zambia has an extreme HIV/AIDS problem, with nearly 1 out of 5 people affected by the disease. It is this problem that we all want to address and solve, but the solutions are often blocked by even larger problems. The reality is that there is HIV/AIDS in Zambia and that many children and adults are affected by this debilitating disease.

Another reality of Zambezi that I have seen though, is the compassion, love and care that people have for one another. The reality is that all of the home based caregivers are volunteers. Without any payment these caregivers, who are often the same socioeconomic class as their patients, walk miles to see and care for their patients. They spend countless hours with their patients and often provide food and money that they do not have themselves. One home based caregiver even walked 27 km (about 3 hours) just to meet with us and learn about caring for patients with malaria. It is this reality that gives me hope for the village of Zambezi. These caregivers have become my role model, as their unselfish dedication for the sick in need is unmatched. Despite the overwhelming challenges of HIV/AIDS in this poor country, we cannot help but to continue to hope because of the people like the volunteers at home based care.

Jonathan Droessler, Class of 2013

The boy is about eight inches shorter than I am, even though he is sixteen.  He hunches his thin shoulders a little; a habit that gives him a humble, distinctive look. He speaks quietly in articulate English.  His button-down shirts are typically a little tight, and his pants a little baggy.  His head is shaved, and his eyelashes are extra-curled.  His smile is wide, perfectly straight, and ready to show itself, hovering at the corners of his lips as though he anticipates the need of it in a moment.  His eyes are spaced a little apart, which draws your attention to them.  As if you could miss them.  He fixes them intently on you; eager, invested, sincere, mature, and dancing a little.

He sidles up to me through the group of students.  I greet him warmly with a Zambian-style handshake and my best “Musana mwane!” I met him on our first visit to Chilena Basic School. I ask him about his lessons, and he draws continents in the sand with his shoe to explain the day’s geography class.  He glances at the pineapple yellow mountain bikes Hikaru and I ride to school, and takes a step closer.

“Can I…can I…?” he says, not forcefully, but hopefully.  How can I refuse the boy with those eyes that shine?

In my memory, I watch his short lap around the sandy schoolyard: triumphant, joyful, simple.

The moment itself is simple, that much is true.  A boy rides a bicycle.  Yet the boy has no father, and is the man of his household.  He struggles to pay his school fees.  And even if he manages to complete Grade 12, what then?  Will he be given the opportunity to attend higher-level education?  Perhaps his words can shed light on the “simplicity” that so many of us crave to encounter in Africa.  When I asked this boy what he wanted to be when he grew up, he laughed first, and then reluctantly said, “An accountant.”  When I asked him why he laughed, his voice carried a dousing realism for his ebullient American interviewer: “Things are not so easy… It is a lot of school for an accountant… It is very expensive… It does not always work out that way.”

My time in Zambia has been a patchwork of these extremes.  The kaleidoscope of chitenge colors clash with the tattered clothing of the children gathered around the convent.  The rich fruits that color our table every morning at breakfast are absent from the meals of many.  My expectation to have electricity and running water has been disrupted, yes; but I am more moved by the realization that many families would never dream of having either in the first place.

But there is also beauty in this conflict of opposites.  My private American exterior is warmed by the salutations of every person (and yes, I mean every person) I meet on the road.  Despite their limited resources and supplies, the enthusiasm and tenacity of Zambian students outshines their hardships.  The deeply connected community of Zambia is evident in every action and interaction, and challenges the isolation and loneliness so many of us experience in our lives.

As I continue my time in Zambezi, I will remember the boy with the bicycle.  As with so many things here; joy is tainted with sorrow, life is touched by death, love with longing, and peace with restlessness.  It is only within the tension between these two extremes that we will be able to find, make, and share meaning with each other and with our Zambian brothers and sisters.

And I know that somewhere within the paradox of Zambia is the beauty we are all searching for.

Peace. Love.

Erin

P.S.  Megan, I love you man.  I miss you like crazy.  I cry whenever you post comments, which makes at least three other people cry. Let’s never do this again!  If you can, bring plain ol’ flip-flops, wet ones (lots), more liquid shampoo, a razor, and more food.  But no pressure.  See you on the tarmac, seester!

P.P.S. Mom and Dad, I will never doubt you again.  Everything you said I’d want, and I didn’t bring, I’ve desperately wanted.  You are very wise.  I love you, and miss you so much!

P.P.P.S. John, I think you’re probably in the wilderness right now, but I think of you every day…a lot.  I promise.  I love you!

Wandering down a dirt road on my way back from teaching my first English class at the Chilenga Basic School, I began to ask myself, “what just happened?” A walk, which was supposed to take no more than thirty minutes from the school back to the center of Zambezi had taken more than two hours. By the time I had reached the convent back in town I had been invited twice to share a traditional kasava/nshima meal on my way back from school the next day, helped a friend of the GU community, Mama Catherine, carry water back to her house, and was asked if I would name the expectant child of a Zambezi couple I had just met shortly after being invited into their home.

Everywhere you go there is someone eager to meet you – someone craving just to say hello, just to be in your presence. At times the number of people yearning for a bit of your time can be overwhelming; however, as I try to search for some sort of deeper meaning in our day to day adventures I realize there is something special about the simplicity of just living in the moment. Here in Zambezi, things rarely run on a regular time schedule. In a computer class that starts at 9, we still have people strolling in at 9:50. It doesn’t matter what you do or what you accomplish with the people here. What matters is your presence and your intentionality. Never have I been in a place where people will so passionately dance and sing to welcome you. Never have I seen such genuine love painted in the smiles of total strangers. Here in Zambezi, life rolls at a much different pace – a pace in which you can’t help but think about the miracle of the human experience. To realize that in this short life we are so inextricably bound, so intimately interrelated to everyone around us is truly a miracle.

“Man is nothing without men. He lives in their hands and dies in their hands”

–       African Proverb

Our time in Zambezi has already touched the hearts and minds of so many of us. I feel so blessed to continue sharing in this glorious experience as we continue to grow learn from one another with each and every passing day.

J. Blake Carr

Class of 2014

The year was 1971 when a man named Father Crispin decided to build one of the few bridges that stretch across the Zambezi River. After seeing a picture of a suspension bridge in National Geographic, he decided to take on the challenge of building his own version of it (regardless of the fact that he had no previous experience as an engineer). When a small boat capsized on the river, killing its three passengers, Father Crispin was determined to design a safer way across.

Our Gonzaga group had the chance to cross this bridge yesterday as we ventured from Zambezi to Chinyingi. Since its completion in 1974, the bridge has not been renovated or remade. This fact was the source of excitement for some and fear for others, but we only lost one group member to the crocodiles, so we’re all in agreement that it was a worthwhile endeavor. Just kidding! Everyone passed safely over the smooth, shimmering waters, and we spent a glorious day exploring the unknown. Without the bridge, we might not have been able to soak in the vibrant blues and yellows that lit up the walls of the priests’ house, or channel our inner Owen (our director Josh’s 5-year-old son) on the most incredible playground we’d ever seen.

Unless we are willing to cross the seemingly unstable bridges that stand between ourselves and the new experiences that await us on the other side, we will miss valuable opportunities to learn and grow. Our visit to Chinyingi reminded me to consciously choose to step out of my comfort zone whenever I have the chance. Also, much like Father Crispin, we have a picture of what we want to do here, but we aren’t always sure of how to go about doing it. He saw that there was a need and decided to figure it out on his own, regardless of whether he was qualified or prepared to do so. Through our interactions with the people of Zambia, we hope to build bridges between communities and countries through accompaniment and a genuine desire to understand one another (even when we feel unprepared and unqualified as Father Crispin did). Tomorrow morning will be my first time teaching seventh graders in Zambia, not to mention my first time teaching any class in a formal school setting. While we have prepared detailed lesson plans and understand that the students’ English speaking abilities will vary, there is no way that we can fully prepare ourselves for what tomorrow will bring.

Three days into this experience, I am realizing that there is so much about this journey that I cannot control. For example, the power generators have a mind of their own, so we’ve already enjoyed a few candlelit dinners and hours without running water. Dealing with no power and chilly showers is the easy part; we all recognize that our living conditions in the convent are still far more comfortable than those of our new Zambian friends. The challenge comes when I cannot provide a drink to every child who asks me for water. I can’t feed all the kids I know are hungry, or provide a driven student with a scholarship to continue their education. This is something that we as a group are already struggling with, and I know that it will only become more difficult as beautiful people continue to reach out for our hands and find homes in our hearts. That being said, Zambia is reminding me to focus on what I can control rather than the multitude of things that I can’t change during my limited amount of time here.

Whether at home or abroad, we are all forced to deal with aspects of our lives that are out of our hands. However, we also possess valuable assets that no hardship or heartbreak can ever strip us of without our consent: our attitudes and our [Z]ambitions. If all I can give is a few hours of my time or a smile to settle someone’s spirits, then that is exactly what I’m going to do. I will choose to see the opportunities for growth in Zambia instead of viewing its problems and poverty as something that I will never be able to fully fix. I will seek out the serenity of the sunsets and give my undivided attention to each person that I interact with. If the wisdom I gain from Zambezi sticks to my brain as easily as the dirt sticks to my feet, I will return home with a fuller heart than I ever could have imagined had I not known this place. We have hardly begun to scratch the surface of all that our time here has to offer, but I already get the feeling that these weeks will pass us by in the blink of an eye. I aspire to be present in everything that I do in Zambezi, because before I know it, these new moments will have turned themselves into treasured memories.

Keep growing, keep living, keep searching, and keep loving.

“Pain throws your heart to the ground/ love turns the whole thing around/ no it won’t all go the way it should/ but I know the heart of life is good.” -John Mayer

Love on love,

Brittney Boland

P.S. Mom- You wouldn’t believe how fast I take showers here. Once I get home, the only person driving up the water bill will be bath boy. The women here are some of the strongest (in every sense of the word) that I’ve ever seen; they remind me of you on a daily basis. I love you!

T- Since this might be the only chance I have to say it, congrats on graduating! I’m so proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished. I couldn’t ask for a better brother (or a more amazing human to know, period). Today, I listened to “Welcome to Africa” in Africa…it was so surreal! I miss you & love you always.

For the past eight months I was living in Florence, Italy and now I’m here in Zambezi, Zambia.  In some ways, life is very different here then it was back in Florence and both are different than my life in the US. However, through traveling I have learned that it is more interesting to learn about the human condition than it is to criticize all the differences between countries and cultures.   At the end of the day, I also end up learning more about myself and appreciate the world and the people around.

Before coming here I watched the movie Invictus, which tells the story of Nelson Mandela and his first year in office as the President of South Africa.   Throughout the movie, Morgan Freeman who plays Nelson Mandela, refers to a poem titled Invictus by William Ernest Henley, it goes like this:

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,

How changed with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

This is our third day in Zambezi and it seems as though I have been here much longer.  Everyone is so welcoming and kind, I can’t believe I’m living in the same world I was living in three days ago.  I thought I would mention this poem in the blog today because it reminds me of that human condition I am so desperately trying to understand.  And so far in Zambezi I can see traces of the strength that fills each and every face we encounter.  It is the strength that we all have to keep on moving with our lives no matter the circumstance, no matter the black pits we bump into, and no matter the Horrors.  Life keeps going with or without our consent.  And we all have the power to take control of our lives and make of them what we wish.  The people here, especially the children, have such an eternal life about them.   They seem so happy just to be alive.   At the end of this experience I think we will be the ones that are the most changed.  For the people we meet here, we might just become another chindele (white person) that came and stayed for a while.  But for us this experience will change the way we think, the way we act, and the way we live the rest of our lives.   I am excited and scared to live out the rest of this experience.  Excited because each day will bring a new challenge and scared because I don’t know if I will be up for that challenge.   Each and every day I will try to remember this poem though, and remind myself to find the strength that I need because life keeps going with or without my consent.

Christina Bernal, Class of 2013