Gonzaga-in-Zambezi

Words have failed me so many times in my attempts to write about Zambia. I can never seem to find the right one, or use the right one to depict Zambia in a satisfying way, a way that is, as Father Dom would put it, “just okay.” In frustration I have sat here, now safely at the convent in Zambezi, trying to describe it.  But how can I if I have found that adequate words do not exist?

If there was a word for the feeling of being in Lusaka, a word to describe what it was like to feel as though I had finally arrived while also still waiting, without knowing for what, I felt that.  If there was a word to describe what it was like to experience the Chapata compound there; a word to describe sitting in the home of a dying man, on his sofa, looking at the solitary pan he used to make his nshima; if there was a word to describe grief mixed with yearning, guilt with compassion and with grace, I experienced that.  If there was a word to describe what it was like to be at Victoria Falls; a word to describe what it felt like to become a child again, screaming and hugging people and posing for group photos with people I didn’t know; a word for what it was like to emerge from the water scoured clean as though every droplet had been a grain of silver sand, I encountered that. If there was a word to describe the act of listening with your heart, I did that. If there was as word to describe the vastness of soul I experienced as I peered out the window of our six-passenger plane and finally saw Zambezi’s glinting tin roofs and web-like sandy roads; if there was a word that meant “found-in-lostness”, I felt that.  And if there were words for everything else, for all the hilarious jokes and ridiculous statements, for the probing conversations and unanswered questions, for the sunsets and the hands already clinging to mine, the voices already repeating my name as though it was sweet, I supposed I’ve experienced that too.

Only one word now comes to mind in relation to these things. It is the word that Father Dominic used to describe the “Road of Zambia” upon which our group now finds itself. It is the word Sister Lucy used when she described how we should keep our hearts during each and every day. I won’t forget what she said, because I fully expect that my heart will be broken while I am here, and in those moments I will most certainly need to recall the words she spoke in her curious German-Zambian accent: “Let your hearts be wide.” In moments of heart-break, as well as in moments of “ever joy,” I believe to say that my only hope is that I can keep my eyes on that Zambian road, and my heart, just as wide.

YOLO,

Megan

Mom and Dad – I love you both and I miss you guys tons! I know I won’t be home for a while, but you guys will have Erin back in just about a week! Have tons of fun, and remember, don’t smother 😉

Erin – I saw you today. We took that picture. No big deal. Much love and thank you for your hilarious note (the LOTR references were not wasted on me).

Chingalala HIV/AIDS Support Group

Time is our scarcest resource here. I think most of us are feeling the press of too many people and places left to experience in Zambezi and too few hours and minutes left to have those experiences.

So I take comfort in Benjamin Disraeli’s words “But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars and each moment is a day.”

I am also torn by choosing between having the sensations and taking a little time to savor and record them. Previous journeys to Nicaragua and Vietnam have taught me that, in fact, I do forget names and places I think I will remember forever, so I am frequently jotting down a name or note in a little notebook, and have developed an unnatural attachment to my pen, a functioning one being a scarce commodity here.

Here, in no particular order, are some of the ordinary/extraordinary sensations I don’t want to forget: going to new market and old market to buy eggs, pineapple juice, macha macha (and one more chitengue!), inspiring conversations with Mama Josephine, Mama Love, Bessie (the powerful DEBS) and her tolerant, wise, funny husband Victor, hearing the creative and somewhat obscene metaphors developed by Natalie and Jonathan for the Zambian version of medically accurate sex education, observing Erin’s amazing energy in the Chilenga classroom, and Joe, Lauren, and Constanza’s commitment to hearing the stories of both Juliuses, Mary, and Chansa in the leadership class, that annoying mosquito that bothers me at night, and the cry of the poor goat we picked up in Mama Kawatu’s village, Hikaru’s bravery as we cross the Zambezi in the tippy banana boat, Grace showing us how to eat Nshima, Aubrey and the chicken, walking through deep sand to another amazing sunset, the frustrations of getting the brazier started when there is no power, and the incomparable satisfaction of the first sip of coffee after the water finally boils (thanks Blake!),  the charm of the little girls dressed in white dancing up the aisle during mass, Brit and Lauren’s dancing with the Makeshi, Kellie’s story of her intimate homestay, John’s pragmatic idealism and card-playing expertise,  Katie teasing Uncle E and Christina coaching him about patience,  the unexpected shower I got when the Landrover blasted through a watery and deeper-than-expected ditch on the way to Chinyingi, football coach Owen, and his always energetic brothers, the overwhelming powerlessness I felt when the Chilgolala  HIV/AIDS support group shared their stories and hopes that I could help them and introduced me to a young man the same age as my son so weakened by the disease that he could not stand, and yet, he gave us a courageous smile…

I have felt despair and hope here, ultimately more inspired than discouraged by the Africa I now know just a little bit. I admire the visions and personal courage of the Zambians I have met. I ponder the structural and political forces that make prosperity so seemingly unattainable for most.

As you can tell, the Gonzaga students have enriched my time here as much as the Zambians have, reminding me of the incomparably deep passion and diverse talents of twenty-somethings who I am counting on in solidarity with their African counterparts to add some pieces to this incredible paradoxical puzzle of poverty and potential that is Zambezi, Africa as well as hometown, USA

A final memory: How are you? How are you, chindele?

This Chindele, letting go of a big professional and political chapter of my life at home, completely unaware of what the next chapter will bring, eating cassava and dancing in a class room celebration at Chilenga basic and scrambling up the bank of the Zambezi to the amusement of the locals, is fine, just fine!

Kisu Mwane

Senator Lisa Brown, Gonzaga faculty

Alexander and family with Lauren & Hikaru

Showing kindness is a choice. People would prefer to be treated this way but it does not always happen. Kindness is defined as the quality or state of being friendly, generous, and warm-hearted. After spending 19 days here in Zambezi, it has become difficult to reflect on my experience without mentioning the kindness I have observed here.

It started the moment we got off the bush planes. We were welcomed with beautiful singing and dancing. Children were asking if we needed help carrying our bags even before they knew our names. Over the course of our stay, we have been greeted countless times from those who acknowledge our presence. After becoming more comfortable with the neighborhood, I have been invited to see inside homes, carry their newborn child, or simply call me over to talk. Within minutes of human interaction, I am able to learn something new about this culture, their life, or have an opportunity to share what America is like. These moments are so powerful; it brings me closer to the Zambian culture and allows me to be in the moment with them.

I am often asked for material goods such as a pen, shoes, or my bracelet. It has been difficult to carry these conversations and it occurs not only with children but with adults as well. It is difficult to say no to give my pen when some have given me so much. Their presence has been the best present. My hope is that this feeling is mutual. Although I do not have enough things to give to every child that stands outside our fence, I hope my presence has been a present to them. Through conversations, strangers have become friends and I have grown to be more comfortable with talking to people I do not know. The unexpected conversations are the ones I find myself fully engaged in. Sometimes, the sun has set by the time I realize how long I have been talking. This weekend, we had the opportunity to be fully immersed into the Zambian culture. We home stayed with a member from the church. Lauren and I were hosted by a teacher from the local school, Alexander. He and his family welcomed us with open arms. The kindness received from Alexander and his family is something I will never forget. Last weekend, we spent a night in a town called Dipalata. It was a reality check when we saw the children in Dipalata more malnourished than the children we developed relationships with in Zambezi. Yet, the group was welcomed with prepared meals and it was evident that the people of Dipalata were giving us all they have. This generosity speaks for the kindness in their hearts and will not be forgotten.

My challenge is to always remember this appreciation I have received and return this act to someone else. I want to continue to live in this spirit of sharing kindness even after my departure. Although I may forget the exact conversations I have here, I will never forget how these interactions made me feel. The warm greetings of “mwane” on the street, the laughs I’ve shared with strangers and how at home I have grown to feel in Zambezi will stay with me for ever. I have come to realize that people make life possible. In uncomfortable situations, people have the ability to make others feel comfortable through smiles, handshakes, and even a simple “chindele,” screamed by many children here which means white person. The presence of people shapes our world. By being kind, friendly, generous, and warm-hearted, we are able to stand as one with another person even just for a moment. This is a lesson I want to take back with me to the US.

I challenge you to do the same; give a stranger your time or greet someone on the street. These interactions that we all are capable of will begin a wave of the kindness that the world needs.

Hikaru Yamaguchi, Class of 2014

PS. Mom, Dad, Haruka, and Nagisa- Genki?! I miss you all so much and cannot wait to see you! Mom- Tanjyoubi Omedetou! Hayaku nihonshoku tabetaina! Daisukidayo Pepper ni 4649 J

PPS. Judith- Happy almost birthday! I cannot wait to drop whales, go on night drives, and see you! Hans- Gahhh! I miss my 5 flights of stairs so that I can rest on the 4^th and come see you! I love you more than 1D! To the both of you- Thank you from the bottom of my heart for keeping up with the blog and leaving comments. BFFizzles! I truly enjoy hearing from you and bring tears to my eyes in the morning when we read the comments. I miss and love you both so much!

PPPS. To all who have been reading this blog- hugs and thank you. We truly enjoy hearing from you and look forward to the comments every morning over breakfast. It’s just as exciting as Tyra Mail so thank you!

Hello family and friends of Group Two,
Some of you may have been anxious to hear from us and we apologize for the delay. Our group has been fortunate to experience much in these past few days. We have been in Livingstone, and tomorrow depart for an overnight safari. On Wednesday, we will arrive to Zambezi, and you can anticipate more regular blog entries from our group then. All are safe and well. For now, you can enjoy the insights of Paige Brunett as she kicks off the blog for Group Two.

I mean, I guess I had an okay birthday. It’s not like I saw one of the Wonder s of the World with the most genuine group of people I’ve ever had the pleasure of spending a month with. All kidding aside, yesterday was incredible. Frankly, I’m still trying to process my feelings from it. I have never felt more loved than the many times the group (and whoever else happened to be around at the time) sang happy birthday to me. Even more unbelievable was that we met a young woman, Claudia, at Youth Alive Livingstone (a group that promotes faith-based behaviour changes as a solution to HIV/AIDS) whose birthday it was as well. Claudia was very small for her age (twenty-four) and I assume that she had some kind of heath issue. Honestly, that didn’t even matter after five minutes talking to her. Claudia was so full of life and incredibly endearing and I feel blessed to share a birthday with her.
After leaving Youth Alive, we set off for the Victoria Falls National Monument. By the first photo-stop (which overlooked the side of the falls) I was already overwhelmed by its beauty. However, we were assured that, “it only gets better,” which seems to be the theme of ,not only Victoria Falls but the entire day and trip in general. Walking a few steps further, we were able to experience “the smoke that thunders” up close for the first time. The water pounding off the rocks and then onto us was incredibly refreshing. I was drenched after a matter of seconds and after many a photo was taken, we walked even further into the park. They were right, it did get better. Being so close to something so powerful made me feel incredibly insignificant but so blessed to know that I was able to be in that place. I know that my attempts to articulate the Falls would be inadequate, it’s something to be experienced. After being soaked to the bone, with nearly full memory cards (both literally and figuratively) we headed back into town for dinner at Cafe Zambezi, where the birthday festivities kicked into high gear. After great food and many laughs, I was serenaded once more. A man at the next table over, apparently inspired by our singing and perhaps a few too many Mosi’s, decided to introduce me to a Zambian birthday tradition: he poured his ice cold beer all over my head. In the moment, I was shocked, appalled, but most of all, sticky and reeking of the lager. Upon reflection (and a hot shower) I realized that that experience, as well as the entire day, was once in a lifetime. It saddens me to know that I will most likely never have a birthday like this, but that sadness is cancelled out by the memory of how amazing my 20th birthday was.
While I thought that the group had bonded on the retreat earlier in the semester as well as during class all spring, sharing this experience together solidified us as a team, invigorating us to make the most of these next three weeks. Even today, the change in the group dynamic was tangible in the impromptu reflection we had at Father Dom’s home. I feel so blessed to be sharing this adventure with a group of people who truly accept each other for who we are and are invested in our trip with wide hearts, ready to be filled with the spirits of those we encounter.
-Paige Brunett, 2014

P.S. Mom, Dad, and Bill- I love you. Thank you for all that you do and allowing me to have such an incredible experience. Mommy, say hi to my boy for me.

Disease is such a real part of life here in Zambia. Unlike back in our home country, Zambian strangers will approach you and extend their hand for a traditional handshake and greeting: “How are you?” In response, Zambians will say, “I am fine,” where in the United States that would usually connote that something is actually very wrong. Here, it means that you are in good health.  Over the past few weeks many of our peers and students have fallen ill, including members of our Zags-in-Zambezi group. What is most shocking is that these Zambians are still on the street, acting out their daily routine, because otherwise they would not have the resources to provide for their families. One thing that we have all learned is that Zambian men and women are incredibly strong, whether they are carrying their children on their back or working hard days with little to no access to protein. And this strength, determination, and courage are what will allow this beautifully rich town to develop and grow.

Recently, one of the local women who helps clean our guest house came to work and said that she was not feeling fine—she was worried she had caught malaria. Thinking back to the United States, people with a just common cold would elect to stay home from work. This disease that all of us Zags fear so much seemed to barely phase her.

When the health group surveyed Zambezi 7^th and 8^th graders on their knowledge of malaria they learned the fact that most Zambians seem to catch malaria a number of times within their life. If it was not for the guaranteed access to healthcare, many of these individuals would die from the disease. A luxury that Americans are fighting for seems to be such a no brainer for Zambians, who are some of the only Africans with access to this right.

The craving for education we are experiencing in our computer and leadership class is admirable. Even with the flu or malaria, our students are sure to make it to each of our lessons because they realize once we are gone they will return to a world where access to education is both difficult and expensive. In our leadership seminar we attempted to identify some of the weaknesses and strengths of Zambezi. Access to education was a theme that came up in both of our sections. Even so, one of the strengths these groups identified and continue to act out is the genuine crave for knowledge. Again, the strength and determination of Zambians has become ever so visible to us Americans and represents one of the many things we can take home.

With only five more days in Zambezi, we are all worrying about how we are going to find closure. But I think that deep down we have all learned, experienced, and seen such amazing demonstration of virtue, communal value, and culture that we will all return to the United States as transformed and matured individuals. So, I conclude with a reminder to my colleagues and our supporters back home to live in the present, live with authenticity, and always reflect and grow from our experiences.

Joe Worthey, Class of 2013

P.S. To my friends and family who have been following this blog, I want to thank you for all the support you have provided me during weeks before this journey and as we come close to our return home. Mom and Dad, I love you.

Jonathan, Kellie, & Blake - enjoying the sunset with the kids

We are all born into a certain life.

Some of us, like myself, are born into families that can provide, into places that hold endless opportunities, and into the expectation that we will succeed, regardless of the dream we aim for.  Some of us, unlike myself, are born into families that struggle to afford food for their next meal, into places where disease consumes, and into communities where many feel that the only way to make something of themselves is by “getting out.”

During my time here in Zambezi, the confusion that comes with thinking of these paradox worlds has invaded my mind.  It is impossible not to wonder how on earth the place I come from and the place I am living in now lay under the same moon at night.  The emotions I have felt and the thoughts that now fill my head have turned my life upside down (also literally, being on the other side of the planet) and I think, maybe, I am starting to learn how to adjust my eyes to this part of my life I had no idea I was missing.

I met Friday, a fourteen year old kid, by the gate of the convent on our first full day in Zambezi.  He has a kind face, a big smile when you catch him laughing, and a very relaxed way about him.  His skinny arms dangle lazily over the fence, as they do every day, and he calls out my name in that perfectly smooth Zambian accent.  Something about him gets at me every time, so even when I feel tired and weary from the full day, I walk over to him to talk for awhile.  It amazes me now, as I have this time to reflect, how easy it is for us to just talk.  We have talked about nothing and about everything, and in such a short time.  I have learned about Friday’s troubled life at home, how both of his parents died when he was young, and how he lives with his grandmother and uncles now.  Some of the stories he has shared with me break my heart, but he tells them with such internal strength and in such a matter of fact way that the conversations we have had and the questions I never stop asking continue to flow with ease.  I think what has struck me most about Friday, and what will stay in my heart for the rest of my life, is the fact that just three weeks ago, our lives were about as far apart as they could possibly be.  And now, as easily as our first conversation began, we are intertwined.  Like many others in this village that I have crossed paths with in the past few weeks, I feel like some part of me, somewhere deep, has known Friday my entire life.  This feeling reminds me of the wise words of Piglet from Winnie the Pooh: “Don’t underestimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.”  It is in these simple moments, the moments in which we connect with a stranger, that force us to realize that we were never really strangers at all.

Friday

If I have learned anything in these past few weeks, it is that regardless of the coordinates, the latitude and longitude in which we live, we all come from the same dust.  The wind carries us to the corners of the earth, leaving us at the places we call home, but our real home is in the company of each other.  In the words of Miguel Ruiz, “We are the same, you and I, we are images of light.”  I have found this quote to hold a striking truth for me.  We all love, hurt, fear, and hope.  We share in our pain and rejoice in our happiness.  We laugh, cry, think, and learn.  We love to be silly and goofy and serious and wise.  We all believe in something.  But perhaps most importantly, we all shoot for the moon but merely land amongst the stars.

Getting here, to this sacred, beautiful land, is what it takes to just begin to recognize the deepest, most personal parts of ourselves within the people we meet.  We must leap in order to see that the net will appear beneath us.

“You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage.  Just literally twenty seconds of embarrassing bravery.  And I promise you, something great will come of it” (We Bought A Zoo).

Kisu Mwane,

Aubrey Weber, Class of 2013

NOTE: To all of the parents of this brilliant group of thirteen, my life has been enriched by the company of each one of your kids.  Thank you.

The second group of Gonzaga students and faculty have arrived safely in Lusaka this morning.  They were received by Fr. Dominic, who will tour them around the capital city today, before traveling to Livingstone tomorrow morning for Victoria Falls and a safari at Chobe National Park, Botswana.  We are so glad to have them in Zambia safe and sound!

Please continue down the blog page and read a reflection from Constanza.  We will attempt to hear from both groups over the next few days.

Dr. Josh Armstrong

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!