Gonzaga-in-Zambezi

After a warm welcome to Dipalata, a rural village a quick and bumpy 40 minute ride away from the convent and also our cozy home for the night, the crew began to unload the two land cruisers packed full like clown cars. While setting up the beds for the night, which consisted of mats, blankets, and pillows in a long hallway (perfect slumber party conditions), I started to hum whatever tune was in my head at the moment. In response to this, Josh turns to me, laughs a little, and asks “You just sing through life, don’t you?” 

If you are close to me or have been living in the Convent with me for almost a month, you know the answer to this question, but for those of you who don’t, let me explain. My whole life has been one defined by tunes and rhythms that satisfies that one part of your brain that makes it so you can’t help but tap your foot. For example, it’s been said that I could sing all the words to ‘you’re the one that I want’ from The Grease soundtrack before I could talk and I could dance well before I could walk, specifically on the kitchen counter in little pink cowboy boots while apple bottom jeans is playing. 

Now, in Zambia, I have been given the advice from former zam zag, Ethan Kane, to attach experiences to our senses. Given the short background I’ve given, I think it’s apparent that one of the senses stands out to me. Hearing. This practice has heightened the emotions that I’m feeling and entertaining that one part of my brain that longs for sounds. I’d like to share some examples of how living through listening has impacted my time here in Zambia. 

ONE 

Mama’s Assistant. I have just spent the day being Mama Katendi’s assistant, aka I help make lunch and dinner and assist with the background chores that might have gone otherwise unnoticed. For dinner, I decided to make BBQ pulled chicken sandwiches, cornbread, and a side cabbage salad (to my family: yes, I was covered in the BBQ sauce by the end of the meal). While sitting outside cooking, I took a breath, noticed my surroundings, and listened. The sky in front of me, a mix of pink, orange, and red that you don’t see anywhere but here. The bread and butter sizzling when it meets the pan heated by the fiery coal in the brasier. The sweet BBQ sauce boiling in the pot popping every now and then reminding me to give it another taste test. Andy Grammars “Keep your head up” playing on the speaker in the distance. Laughter coming from children playing in the back of the convent with our finest yoga, dance, volleyball, and soccer instructors. The breeze rustling through the trees causing the branches to sway. These sounds only broken by the Mama’s coming outside to sit with me. The conversation that followed was one of noticing, listening and hearing. 

TWO

Home Stays. Brynn and I set off to stay the night with a beloved member of the community, Mama Winfrieda. She volunteers Monday-Friday from 8am-4pm to test people for HIV/AIDS and visit and assist members of the community that have been affected by this disease. When we arrive, we fall upon a scene of a celebration. Around 30 friends and family gathered in her backyard. Women cooking up a meal of nshima, greens, and chicken. A couple women and men dancing, called out to us in hopes that we will join. My cheeks get flushed and I get warm with embarrassment due to the fact that I am a Chindili (western/white person) who cannot move her hips like they’ve been trying to show us. Though this embarrassment was short-lived, as I allowed myself to take a breath, notice my surroundings, and listen. Listen to the banging of the drums. The laughter and joy that comes from a reunion of friends and family. The communion of multiple voices coming together to sing harmoniously. Listening. It reminded me of that part of my brain that was longing to be itched. The part that makes me tap my feet. The part that doesn’t care if others are watching. The part that wants to put on her pink cowboy boots and get on the countertops, but instead I wanted to put on my chetangi and shake my hips as best I could with the people that have welcomed me into their homes so generously. 

THREE 

Car Rides. Being in Zambia has consisted of many car rides, whether the nine hour ride from Lusaka to Livingstone or the 30 minute ride to Chitokoloki. These rides have been what I would compare to your average family road trips. Full of “how much longer”’s, lotsssss of snacks, good conversation, and a bit more singing than I think some of the group wishes. Sitting in the quaint backseat of the Land Cruiser can be a bit crammed and the bumps will most definitely require a visit to the chiropractor, but these close corners allow me and my fellow Zam Zags to truly get to know each other through, you guessed it, taking a deep breath, noticing my surroundings, and listening. Driving through the bush, watching as the world disappears behind us. Conversations prompted by questions like, “what’s your happiest memory?”, “in another life, what job would you want?”, and my personal favorite, “what’s you spirit animal?”. These conversations give me even more of an insight on who these 14 people I’ve really gotten to know and consider my family are. When these car rides are not met meaningful conversation, they are certainly matched with some very beautiful and lovely singing of all your favorite Disney classics and maybe a little Hamilton… Being free to belt these songs with others reminds me that we all have that part of our brain. That makes us almost childish in a way. Singing without a care and laughing at just how much fun we are having in a very crowded, less than ideal, incomparable to the rosa deluxe, basic Land Cruiser. Here, I get to listen to the children in us all as we laugh, sing, and shout “are we there yet” to our two dads, Josh and Jeff. 

FOUR 

Dipalata Campfire. Sitting at dinner in Dipalata, I overhear the faint singing of children. I quickly shovel down my food knowing I have to get to the music. Walking towards the sounds, I come to recognize the song. It’s one that we have been learning in our language lessons everyday at 12. We all gather around the well populated fire place and begin to sing the songs with the children. This. This is the moment of connection I have been yearning for. A feeling of complete harmony and unity overcomes my being and transcends words. I don’t even need to take a second to take a deep breath, notice my surroundings, or listen. I began to do it all involuntarily. The stars above shined by the dozens and brighter than any I’ve ever seen. The fire below warmed the soles of my feet. The flaming blue and purple root of the fire danced around the logs just as we all were dancing with one another. The orange of the fire projected onto the faces of all those gathered around the campfire illuminating the countless smiles. More than 200 voices joined together, to sing a song as one. Each voice unique, but as a whole created a perfect blend of song. A memory I will forever remember through the sounds. The sounds of community. The sounds of rejoice. The sounds of glee. The sounds that quenched the yearn that come from that part of my brain. The part that listens. The part that hears. The part that loves. 

To my loving family, my 714B girls, and my friends, I can’t wait to talk to you all soon and hear your sweet voices again, for I’ve missed them dearly. I love you all with my whole heart. Say hi to Ollie and Cholula for me 🙂

With tremendous amounts of love,

Katie Harris 25′

Hello family & friends, 

It is the end of week 2 of classes! Being here in Zambezi has brought so much joy, growth, emotions, reflection, and a whole lot of CONNECTIONS!

A month before we left for Zambia, I started to get really anxious about what could happen on this trip. I wasn’t really the person who would go out and try new things unless I was with my friends. I chose to stick with the comfortable. I had so much anxiety when talking to new people because all I could think about was, “What do I talk about? What should I talk about? What good questions should I ask?” A few days before we left for the airport, reality started to hit and I started to think that I was in over my head, leaving home for a month and going to a country that I’ve only heard about from Josh and former Zags who have gone in the past. I had to prepare myself with the questions, “How do I connect with the people in Zambezi and how can I challenge myself?” 

However, there’s a quote I’ve been constantly thinking about here in Zambia. From one of my all time favorite movies, We Bought A Zoo, Scarlett Johansson asks Matt Damon why he bought a random zoo and Damon replies with “Why Not?” Whenever this quote would pop up in my head, I would think “Why not do this? Why not do that?” Life is too short to not take opportunities so why not take them? There are many things I have regretted not doing in college and now is the time to get out of the comfort zone. 

On our first night in Zambezi, we were welcomed by the community with a huge dance party. I wasn’t in the mood to dance (for all my family and friends back home, SHOCKING!) and was hoping to blend in with the others on the outer skirts of the circle. But seeing Sarah & Will dance with everyone, why not have fun with everyone? Why not shake my hips with Sarah & Katie? By the end of the dance party, I was in happy spirits and excited for the good moments to come. 

On the first Wednesday here, I was walking home by myself from Zambezi Boarding (ZB), trying to find my turn to the road. I then heard a distant voice behind, yelling “Hi.” A man was walking behind and caught up to greet me. He introduced himself as Morgan, a student teacher at ZB. I then thought, “Why not walk with Morgan? Let’s walk together!” I invited him to walk with me to the spot where I was meeting Josh at. Despite living in the opposite direction, Morgan still took my invite and we walked to the main road together. We asked each other questions about the other person’s life, passions, local talk. Morgan was so kind to walk home with me, but what I remember most about our walk together was being present. I wasn’t worried about time, the path, or questions I should be asking. I was living in the moment and getting to know my new friend.

The next day, Will and I had our first lesson at Chilena Primary School, focusing on Library Day and Science. While reading with the students, I noticed that comprehension was very difficult for most of the students, especially when I asked them what their book was about. When the students read their books, I tried to think of ways to explain how to identify the lesson or theme of a story. After reflecting on the day, I thought, “Why not scratch some of our Library Day ideas and start fresh?” While I can’t teach everything about reading to the students of Chilena in three weeks, I can help with teaching them some basics of reading. After deciding this, we got to work on some lessons and are excited to be spending time with some of the brightest students.  

This week has come with a lot of emotions and homesickness has started to kick in for me and for others around here. I knew this was going to come, but what I didn’t expect was how hard it was going to hit. I tried to stuff my emotions deep down inside, focusing on going to ZB and connecting with the community and the ZamFam. It became a lot for me, so I thought, “Why not just let it out? The tears are going to come anyways, so why not just let them out? Why not focus on yourself for a little bit?” I went to bed early that night, just letting my tears come out while I fell asleep. The next morning, I still felt off and didn’t have the motivation to be happy or excited for what’s to come in the day. My ZamFam could tell I was quieter than usual, so they would check in on me, give me a hug, or let me have my own space when I needed it. While the homesickness didn’t completely go away, I felt unconditional love from everyone and appreciated the support I needed, even if I was nervous to ask for that support. 

I have grown a lot on this trip with making new friends, trying to get outside of my comfortable routine, starting fresh, and allowing all emotions to be felt. Usually when someone says they have seen me grow in different moments of my life, I don’t really believe them as I can’t see that growth myself. However, I am proud of myself for taking a very big leap and joining this amazing trip of a lifetime. I am proud that I have taken the path less taken because it has led me to some amazing moments filled with joy, lessons, and a lot of growth. I hope to continue taking the opportunities and leading with “Why not?” 

To my family, Priest Lake friends, & my Sinto girls, I miss you all so much and cannot wait to see you soon! 

With love, 

Ellie Powers ’24

P.S. Mom, I RODE IN THE CANOE ON THE RIVER!!! I DID IT!

PROGRAM NOTE: We will be staying overnight in Dipalata, Zambia, a special rural community this weekend.  We will post our next blog on Sunday evening here in Zambezi.  

These are my hands, hands that touch, that give, that create.

These are my hands, though small and without the prototypical slender elegance of fingers. Years dancing upon the keyboard of a computer and other spontaneous acts have rendered them supple, capable of matching the digit-spans of hands inches longer. They skitter in scales, they sing in fugues, they tremble in trills and tremolos — imperfectly, amateurishly, perhaps, yet with love enduring.

They are magic hands, I like to say. Hands that bear way to my various mannerisms. Hands that drive the way through my curiosity. Hands that cook, that clean, that play. Hands that know pencil, paper, and exams too well. Hands that have learned to count: 1, 2, 3, 4,… hands that gripped the monkey-bars of the elementary school playground and learned to avoid cuts and scrapes in a fall. They are hands that tagged the shoulder of the next “It”, that learned not to point or push, but to welcome and wave, that kept a daily round of lonesome basketball-dribbling in fourth grade recess, until, discovering another’s that did the same.

These are hands thatalternatingly leapt towards the classroom ceiling, beckoning to the teacher, please call my name, please let me answer, please! Eventually learning the patience and compassion to encourage fellow persons to discover the joy of truth for themselves. These are hands with flaws, with scar and injury. They are sensitive to the cold, sometimes losing circulation even when gloved against the frosty outdoors, yet they themselves shock when met with a hot, sweaty, and AWESOME hand handshake (especially with my dear friend Katie). 

These are my hands that, to the now, likely, surprise of my parents, love to leaf through books of many authors. To breathe their words, to touch their life-song that tickles from the pulp — to know the working, writing hands of another, even through typed text, their loving caress of thoughts, ideals, imagined worlds; that is the true spirit of reading.

These are my hands that swim in the air as I engage in ecstatic dialogue with my roommates about philosophy after our classes, shaping invisibly the difficult concepts and ideals our minds strive to fathom. What if we cannot be sure of anything at all, even the existence of the hand? Besides, do we not think and feel and know one another — through our hands?

Crucially, my hands are not just mine; but also my fundamental connection to others — my gift and gift-givers to the beings of Earth. Without a voice to speak, I could still with my hands sing: on the strings of my Dad’s old guitar, by which I may share with the audience of a few of my friends; on the small black and red computer Santa once gave me, by which I now compose videos, essays, and more to inspire growth in mind and heart; in the rhythmic beating of drums and random tabletops that energizes the local Zambian children (and inner child in me) to celebrate their life-song in dance; in the cultivating of the seeds of spirit innate in human beings yet shy to sprout towards sun — the educator’s mission I shall pursue even though I choose not the teaching profession. 

These are my hands. Ones that are obsessed, filled with drive, yet still have space to dream, dreams that are coming true as this journey through Zambia continues. Dreams that couldn’t be completed by just my hands, alone. Accompanied by the hands of my fellow Zags, a community stronger than most has been made; one that desires involvement, change, and empathy. In the hands of these wonderful humans, there is a spirit striving — to understand, to imagine, to grow.

We are all capable of this no matter our whereabouts and whether our minds falsely assume “impossible” from possible. I say; we shall be a group of artists, not of appearance, but of action. Ones that have deepened our roots, and will continue to make history with our hands here in Zambezi, and beyond. Ones that are enabled, not just because we feel that we must.

There are my hands, there are your hands, and here are our hands, all capable of the impossible, and everything that may lie beyond that. All of which will continue to write their own beautiful stories, one’s that begun somewhere, were lucky enough to connect here, and will flourish elsewhere.

Mom, Dad, Kathryn, my extended family, my friends, to all of those reading this blog, and more, I reach my hands out to yours and implore you to think through your mind, body, spirit, and most importantly… your hands, and do just as we are here: feel.

Sending my love,

Jackson Schmidt 26’

May 26th at 6:09 AM: On our second full day in Zambezi I woke up to text from my Mom that read “Call now, urgent”. The call was about my Grandpa, he had fallen and hit his head hard and was unconscious. “It’s bad” she said as she passed the phone to my Dad. My Dad explained to me that the doctors said he might not make through the night. My Grandpa had always been extremely healthy for his age. He always went on daily walks, ate the best foods, and cut out all of his “bad habits” (AKA coffee and wine). I was so horrified by how everything had changed so quickly. One minute he was fine the next minute he was fighting for his life. 

I asked my Mom to hold the phone to his ear as I told him all the ways he positively impacted my life. His career at Boeing that spanned from the 1960s to the 1990s inspired me to be an engineer, just like him. He always took the time to encourage me and celebrate all of my achievements throughout school. In May, he saw me walk across the stage and become the first female engineer in my family. Throughout his career he got to travel to five different continents and countless countries. He was very excited for my own adventure here. I like to think I got my love for exploring places and meeting new people from him. Now all I could do was selfishly hope he could hold on for just a little while longer.

As I laced up my running shoes I prayed the doctors were wrong. I prayed that he would recover. I didn’t know if I should carry on with my scheduled run with Josh and Ana. However, there was something so calming about the routine of getting ready that soothed me. Ultimately, I decided a run would be for the best.  

During the run we paused to admire one of Josh’s favorite spots in Zambezi. A bridge constructed of thin wooden planks that spanned a stream. The stream was ponded and its surface was engulfed in blossoming lily pads. The centerpiece of the perfect picture was the sun that shone just over the horizon. A hallow of orange surrounded the little ball of light, extending outwards causing far off tree to appear as silhouettes. A sunrise, a sign of renewal and rebirth. A symbol that can make even the worst days hold promise. For the first time that day, I exhaled.

A few minutes after our run ended my phone started ringing, I hadn’t even stepped into the convent yet. Once I could muster up enough cell service to do so, I answered the phone. “It’s over”, I heard. My grandpa had passed away. It was the answer I never wanted, but one that I thought I may have at least few more hours to come to terms with before it came in. One hour did not feel like enough time. I felt like I had whiplash. As my fingers fastened the buttons on my shirt for 10 AM Mass that same morning, nothing felt real. I clung onto my routine, simple tasks, and events in a desperate attempt to satisfy a longing for normalcy. A sense of normalcy that, for a short while, allowed me to escape the reality of his death. I carried on with my week in a vacuum. 

On Friday, I learned that the funeral was scheduled for the day I return from Zambia, and that I’d be missing the funeral by only a few hours. Something within my false sense of normalcy cracked a little, and I could feel the pain I hardly had any time to feel brimming to the surface. Yet I still had to get through my three computer classes that day. The weekend was filled with ZamCity, a home stay, a 3-hour Mass, a lunch out, and a birthday celebration for a very special Mama’s Boy (AKA Jackson). I sat at the of the dinner table overwhelmed with the idea of facing another week. It had been an entire week since my grandpa died and I felt like I barely had time to be sad about it and grieve him. 

I left the table early. Jeff found me in the computer room a little later. He ask me how I was. “Fine” I replied, I was certainly not fine. “And sad” he asked? That was all he had to say, I started crying. Jeff got Josh and they offered me the opportunity to spend the night at the Royal, a secure (and Boujee) place where I could be alone and have some peace. There was also an option that included leaving to the Royal Monday morning, foregoing my Monday tasks completely. The thought of missing my classes, one of my favorite parts of Zambezi, was sad to me. My heart also churned, at the I thought of the kids I promised to play with that Monday afternoon. However, I knew I needed to say “yes” so I took the opportunity.

The Royal was indeed super boujee, with little white hut-styled rooms lining the property. Gonzaga payed for a room that overlooked the Zambezi River and covered all my meals while I was there. There I did my best to center myself, to reflect, to read, to call friends and family, and to simply just relax. I watched the fires lit by the Luvale tribe turn the sunset red as I dangled my feet off the platform walkway outside my room. In such a beautiful setting, it was hard not to feel the pressure to come back and be “fixed”. It was hard not to feel like I needed to find a way to return renewed and ready to hop back into the connections we are forming, ready to be my full self again, and ready to tackle all these new experiences with inhibited joy. However, the most important thing I realized while I was taking a step back was the importance of saying “no”. 

Zambezi for most, is a once in a lifetime experience. We are told to “yes” to things, to be uncomfortable, and to stretch beyond yourself. However, I’ve learned that something like the unexpected death of a beloved family member brings a new caveat to those suggestions. I’ve learned that saying “no” is just as important and sometimes even more challenging than saying “yes”. I’ve learned that I need to practice setting more boundaries, in order to give myself the space to mourn regardless of the unique and fleeting environment I am in. Whether I’m saying “no” to the laundry list of tasks I create for myself here or saying no to others, it’s the only way I’ve found here to carve out more time for myself.

Throughout this process I’ve also realized what an amazing group of people I’m walking through this journey with. From the moment they heard the news I’ve received an overwhelming amount of support, empathy, and love from my fellow Zam Zags. We’ve really transformed from a group of strangers to a family (our Zam Fam), especially  in these last few weeks abroad. Immediately everyone was offering me big, big hugs, hand squeezes, pats on the head, kind condolences, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, access to a stash of treats (Thanks Katie!), and more. People offered to take on my chores for the day, with Emily pitching in to help with dinner dishes (the evening I found out) so I could have more time to talk on the phone with family. Ani gave me the time to talk about the incredible person my grandpa was during group reflection. Charlie took the lead in all three of our computer classes when I took a leave on Monday (with Josh acting as his assistant). Both Josh and Jeff have always been available to share in sad news with me and process things as they come in. I wish I could sit here and write how each person in the convent has helped me cope through this time. They truly all have taken time out of their days to comfort me in some way. While it has been less ideal to be 9,600 miles away from my family in such a difficult season, I truly feel blessed by the home away from home we have created here.

Sarah Simmons, Class of 24

Being in CLP, a program that has always focused on servant leadership, I thought that I had a good idea of what it is to be a leader. However, being here has given me many examples of leadership that I hadn’t expected. It really shows how much being in community and company with others can change your view on even the things you thought you knew well. There’s a leadership manifesto here in the convent that hangs on the wall that I frequently refer to as I discover leaders in this community.

For this blog post, I would really like to highlight some of the most admirable leaders here in Zambezi. Here are some examples of leaders I admire – 

This past weekend, I had the privilege of being welcomed into the home of Debby and Eucharia, two impactful community members in Zambezi. Also known as “the power couple” of Zambezi, these two individuals created a community focused on sports and life skills education for the children of Zambezi from complete scratch. This unique and creative project is quite popular and successful in this community, as it has has offered many kids and their parents important life skills and created routine and positive habits for teens who’ve battled with poor life choices. But this program didn’t arise with much ease. I was shocked to hear that Debby and Eucharia have funded most of the program with their own money! All the while, both have been working hard as a teacher and a nurse, respectively, to provide five children with the best opportunities possible. At first, Eucharia was skeptical about using their hard earned money to start a goal that seemed far fetched and unachievable. However, Eucharia and Debby had trust and faith, and continually supported each other in their vision and goal. Eight years later, ZamCity is a hit with the youth of this town. ZamCity continues to run without a sponsor, and depends very much on Debby and Eucharia’s funding, as well as the Zags’ contributions. Leadership is risky. These two individuals didn’t let the risk of failure scare them off and they gave it their all to make a difference in this community. From hearing them talk about how passionate they are for making change, the risk of inaction might have been even more detrimental than the risk of failure for these dedicated community members.

^Eucharia and one of her sons David teaching me and Will how to cook.

Dr. Mpande is a kind and brilliant doctor in the local Zambezi Hospital to whom the health group has grown close over the past weeks. Every time we walk in at 10:00 am for rounds, he greets us with a big smile and greeting. He immediately welcomes us to come front row, so that he is able to explain the pathophysiology of each patient’s condition to us in great detail. His love for teaching and patient care is evident to all of us students, and all the patients in the hospital. I additionally admire his adaptability to use such limited resources to provide the best patient care possible. Leadership must fundamentally address our most difficult challenges as a collective. Dr. Mpande embodies leadership by being able to confront challenges head on and use his flexibility, improvisation, and quick thinking to come up with innovative solutions. Another way Dr. Mpande exhibits leadership is through his relationships with the other staff at the hospital. The other day, a patient came in to the hospital with an infection due to an easy mistake during an earlier suture. Dr. Mpande respectfully confronted the healthcare professional that made the mistake and educated her on what to do in the future. Dr. Mpande’s ability to create a safe and educational environment in the hospital, all the while prioritizing patient care depicts how leadership is an activity, not a position or authority. I’ve had to do lots of reflecting on my own role as a healthcare professional, especially as I go into my final semester in the Nursing program. I must ask myself, as Dr. Mpande does every day, how to approach people and their mistakes with kindness, openness, and morals despite the obstacles.

^Dr. Mpande

Steven, a bright man in my health class is always the first one to arrive, front row and center. He always shows up with a cheeky smile on his face ready to learn and listen. Steven has been attending the health class for the past two years, and is dually enrolled in the business and leadership classes this year. As the health group has come to figure out, teaching about medical terms and health has come with its challenges. There are many cultural practices and terms that we are unfamiliar with, and that google could not have prepared us for. Whenever we struggle to answer a cultural specific question from another student, Steven promptly raises his hand to rephrase the question in a way that would help us better understand. On top of this, Steven frequently helps his fellow peers with understanding the material if he notices that they are struggling with the way we phrase things. Steven is just a student in our class. We don’t ask him to stay behind after class to help his peers. We don’t expect him to help us out in teaching the class. However, Steven sees that he can be impactful by speaking up, so he does. I admire Steven as a leader because he embodies that if anyone can lead, then everyone can lead. Although he may not have a position of ‘authority,’ officially speaking, he takes it upon himself to help and to care. He is on this journey with us and with his peers. His role as a student does not prevent him from being a leader, and it’s reminded me that leadership is always more than just a job title. 

Last, but not least, Sarah, a Zag on this journey like the rest of us. Everyone on the trip can attest to the fact that Sarah is always so engaged and present in all that we do. She’s always ready to jump in the dance circle and play sports with the children in the yard. She’s unwaveringly positive, and someone who can get a laugh out of you with her punny jokes. On top of all this, she’s a great teacher to the computer literacy group. Last week, Sarah had received some very sad, personal news from her family while on the trip. Sarah has preserved hard, completing all her chores, being impactful to the students in her lessons, and creating connections with many of the members of the group. The strength Sarah has here to persevere and to advocate for personal space for healing is something I look up to her for. Sarah reminds me of a servant leader. She works hard to prioritize the well-being and success of our team while being able to focus and advocate for her own well-being. She is courageous as she has worked to find this balance in Zambezi. It can be hard, but it’s important to remember that leadership does not require complete self-sacrifice, and it can be necessary to give to yourself as a person deserving of care.

I am so grateful to be part of this experience, as I am discovering many different ways that I wish to exhibit leadership in my future career as a nurse. I invite you to learn from these individuals, as well as find and embrace similarities from your own leadership style.

I miss you mom and dad, I am excited to share all my adventures with you soon.

Ana Gamboa, ’24

We rarely think about things that come to us as second nature. The way we breathe, walk, put on shoes, clothes and more, all have become mindless and automatic tasks for us across the years.

As I have been here in Zambezi I was tasked with teaching the computer class. With the help of previous Zags there was a well established curriculum of what has been taught before with essential computer skills, largely revolving around the Microsoft Suite, Word, PowerPoint & Excel. Using these tools and apps everyday have made them extremely familiar and learning the basics is long lost memory, therefore I was prepared to take a step back and be conscious about deeply explaining the skills and language that come so natural to me to make sure my students were learning the essential skills.

Little did I know these expectations and assumptions could not prepare me for the challenges of teaching computers that I was going to face. On the first day when opening computers I asked each of my students to start their computer and open up Word. After seeing some computers open and some futile keyboard presses I realized that this task was not a simple one. Even after hearing that many students had never used a computer or a keyboard, I didn’t fully grasp what this meant for my students. They didn’t know to press the space bar to open the computer, hit enter to submit a password, know what application is Word, what button on the mouse to click or how to quickly double click to open the app. I had failed to recognize the experience or lack thereof of my students and took off before students had reached their seats.

This sparked a reflection on how our lives are so different and how technology had become an extension of our bodies but not that does not apply for my Zambian students. I had to find the vocabulary necessary to define words and actions that are fundamental to my understanding of computers.

Being here it is clear that there are significant and obvious differences between us and our Zambian neighbors, however, throughout my time here I have largely created many connections through our shared humanity. Nevertheless, my classes and learning more about others have made me more aware of the smaller differences between us that are harder to notice. I have seen how there are many aspects of Zambians human nature that are extremely foreign to me. Through exploring those, asking questions amongst each other and being curious about each other’s second nature I have made the strongest connections.

Some of the aspects of Zambians second nature I observed are; the mamas start a braiser with their eyes closed, grab hot coals and not even flinch and decapitate a chicken without blinking an eye. I have also noticed how it is in Zambian’s second nature to greet everyone as they walk by or ever enter any space. I have noticed the importance that they put in checking in on other’s families and boasting about the successes their children and friends have achieved with great pride. These elements of their second nature are things that are not in my common nature and when I have been asked to do them I have felt like a deer in headlights, just as my students on day one. Yet embracing that uncertainty and learning how to start a braiser, asking questions about others families, and checking in on how other’s days are going have deepened my connections with Zambians and Zags.

As I have allowed students to question my second nature, I have been greatly inspired by my their ability to learn and adapt quickly. Now I am watching them double click without thinking about it, changing fonts and making lists without me having to point out which button it is and much more. While they are not computer gurus, they have grown so much in the past week and I know will continue to do so. And while from an outside perspective, including mine before I arrived here, I may still think they know little to nothing about computers. Yet, as they made me aware of how my assumptions of their previous knowledge were unfair, it is clear that they have learned so much, as before I mistakingly assumed their second nature was the same as mine.

All this to say that even while in anticipation of coming here I was making a conscious effort to limit expectations and come ready to teach computers from a basic level; nevertheless, I was unaware of expectations I had made as they are so engrained in my human nature. I do believe that it is impossible to come into a new place, prepare for a class and arrive ready to serve while having no expectations or reasonable expectations. That does not mean it shouldn’t be a part of your preparation for a trip to a new place as a servant leader to remove and be aware of your expectations. Finding intentional practices that help you notice subconscious actions that may influence your presence or purpose in the new place will help you be better prepared to serve. For example, I could have more intentionally prepared lessons by walking through each step and making note of every action I take with a computer, actively noticing actions I take without thinking and being ready to explain them. 

Even after making this intentional effort it is important to be ready to face assumptions you have made that are wrong, shortcuts or practices that come to you as second nature that will be met with confusion and very uncertain nods. As a result the most important thing that I have learned so far is to create space for questioning and uncertainty. Continuing to reinforce the importance of asking questions and being alright with not knowing. This is something that I have needed to foster within my students but also myself. Asking questions to the Zambians and Zags around me about what they do that I don’t understand. Questioning others second nature I think can often lead to the greatest learning as it teaches the skills that they fundamentally expect you to know when they teach you more, enabling deeper connections with less confusion and greater understanding.

So continue to question, dive into uncertainty and learn about others second nature. 

To all the family and friends back home I love you and miss you.

Charlie Herman ’26

Happy Sabbath! This morning, Julia and I woke up at the home of our homestay host, Steve. Steve is a student of both the business and leadership and health classes, so while we knew him from class, we were excited to hear his story first hand. Upon arrival to his home, he introduced us to all of his neighbors and showed us our room (which was his room that he had given up for the night). We enjoyed a delicious dinner of nshima, beef, and tomato soup while we learned about his children, work, time in the army, his work with the Red Cross and the local Catholic Church. After dinner, he turned on his favorite reggae music from his home of Angola. A neighbor child, Hope joined us when he heard the music. When Hope peaked behind the curtain, Steve welcomed him with a classic Zambian “Feel Free,” and then turned to Julia and I and said, “Hope likes to come over when he hears the music. He knows he is welcome here.” Similar to Hope, we knew we were welcome at Steve’s house. We taught them Spoons and how to shuffle and they taught us an Uno-like game that we caught most of. Steve’s welcome was yet another radical display of hospitality that we have experienced during our time in Zambia. 

As I was brushing my teeth this morning outside of Steve’s house, another neighbor greeted me. We exchanged “chimene mwanes” and then “How are yous.” He responded as many Zambians do, “Fine.” 

When I first heard this over a week ago when I arrived in Zambezi, I must admit that I was taken aback. At home, when you say “I’m fine,” it usually means you are feeling any emotion but fine. But here, fine really does mean fine. An acknowledgement of the ordinary and a contentment with the present. 

Contentment has always been a hard practice for me. I am an 8 on the ennegram, and if I want something, there are very few things that can stop me from achieving that. And while my make-it-happen nature is one of my greatest strengths, it can also cause me to arrange my life and schedule in a way that feels like a never ending hamster wheel that I cannot escape. Getting on the plane in Seattle over two weeks ago, I resonated deeply with that image of a hamster wheel. 

Today, we attended Mass for the second time at Our Lady of Fatima Church (except for this time we enjoyed the 3 hour Corpus Christi service), which also means that today, in the Christian tradition, is the Sabbath- the call to both rest and relaxation, just as God did on the 7th day. 

The practice of Sabbath is something that has landed on my New Year’s resolution list for three years now. It is deeply challenging to my do-er nature. At home, I have attempted Sabbath more times than I want to admit. Speeding through the first six days of the week in order to “earn” my rest on the 7th. I quickly become frustrated when the constant noise and inner dialog refused to allow my heart to settle, to enjoy the true rest of the 7th day. 

In many ways the past week, has felt like an extended sabbath. Our pace of life here is hard to explain. While it is much slower than life at home, the days seem to come and go much faster. My metrics for a successful day look much different here – an intentional conversation while I work with a fellow zag to start a brasier, meeting a new shop owner in the market, and at least a couple hours of football and volleyball in the convent courtyard. 

Today is a true sabbath for me. The chore wheel has assigned me the task of writing the blog today. This means that my fellow zags are busy around me pumping water, preparing meals, doing the dishes, writing in the group journal, blessing our food, and today, the party planning committee (led by Katie) is busy making Jackson feel loved and celebrated on his birthday. The community we are participating in is one of deep dependence on one another for some of our most basic needs. Sabbath looks much different here not only because of the slower pace of life we have the opportunity to experience, but also because of the community we have created here in the convent. 

This is in sharp contrast to my life at home. My stubbornness rarely allows me to ask for help, especially not for my most basic needs. The practice of relying on this community is teaching me a lot about who I am and how I want to live in relation to others. In reflecting on my failed attempts of sabbath at home, I realizing that the resistance to dependence often prevents me from rest. My independence is the thing that stands between me and true sabbath. 

Yesterday, I was sharing these movements of my heart with Lucia on a morning walk by the river. Lucia (or our theologian as Dominic lovely dubbed her) wisely noticed this tension as the “Mary” and “Martha” within me. When we returned home, I began to explore this biblical tension because even after our 3 hour Mass this morning, I needed a bit of a refresher. 

“As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him.  She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:38-42

In the middle of our conversation, we walked by two women. We greeted them, and introduced ourselves. Melody and Mary where there names. Lucia and I both smiled as we walked away. “Of course her name is Mary.” 

Zambezi is teaching me to live into my Mary, to “sit at the Lord’s feet listening.” Listening to the diverse stories of this community, listening to how this experience is changing the hearts of my fellow ZamZags, and listening to how God is moving in my own heart. 

“Emily, Emily, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed – or indeed only one” – listening. 

One thing both Josh and past ZamZags have encouraged us to do during our time here is to lean into our senses. As I write this, I hear the sounds of children playing outside the convent, Jeff getting an early start on Jackson’s birthday dinner, many roosters and a very quiet living room with many reading Zags. The sounds of Zambezi and the convent have their own music to them, one that is becoming familiar and making our concrete space across the world feel like home.

“Hope likes to come when [it] hears the music. [It] knows [it] is welcome here.”

Zambezi is teaching me that “Fine” days teach us the most, that sabbath cannot exist without community, that my heart is most in need of “Mary” energy, and that a hopeful heart must first feel welcomed. 

Love to all my friends and family back home. I miss you all dearly and am praying for a fruitful sabbath for each of you today. 

Love, 

Emily Even ’24

A little over two weeks ago I woke up, May 15th, wide eyed and jittery. To ground myself, as I said my last goodbye, I recited my favorite Ignatian prayer The Suscipe which reads:

Take Lord and receive all my liberty, 

My memory, my understanding, 

And my entire will — 

All I have and call my own. 

You have given all to me, 

To you, Lord, I will return it. 

Everything is yours; 

Do with it what you will.

Give me only your love your grace. 

That is enough for me.

I always feel quite vulnerable yet awakened after saying or listening to this prayer. 

The best way I can explain the feeling to others is like when I am holding a really difficult yoga pose (my “least” favorite, a twisted chair, for those who are familiar). A twisted chair is always super uncomfortable and simply annoying to me, but then there is a moment of sweet bliss where a teacher’s instruction guides me to make that connection which helps me return back to body/mind awareness. I find myself often repeating in Yoga that “This practice teaches me to trust that this is how it is supposed to be right now” and that “The Mystery of Faith is enough for me” and “Wow, this is such an amazing feeling!” 

I know God is always present to accompany and hold me, but to ignite and embody that feeling of gentle surrender to God, it is vital to find flames or connections in my mind, body, and spirit that bring me to joy and curiosity. Two weeks later as I hit this beautiful half way point, I know for certain that Zambia has allowed me to keep alive God’s flame or “practice” the challenges, questions, vulnerabilities, and awakenings that life has to offers us! 

The person that first ignited a flame for me here has to be the beloved Dominic. The Zambia Dominic introduced to me holds space for curiosity, joy, confusion, music, stillness, sadness, nostalgia, romance and so much life. and let me tell you: Zambians are filled with life! On the first morning in Lusaka, I sat with Dominic in some silence eating our breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. After some simple chat, the conversation started to flow between the two of us. If you know me, I love a good “God chat,” and if you wanna have the most fruitful “God chat” — have it with an enlightened ex-priest. 

At this breakfast, Dominic shared some of his experience leaving Catholic priesthood. Immediately my tensions eased as I felt comfort from his story. Those close to me know that I, too, have been going through my own wrestling with the Catholic church’s magisterium. Dominic said leaving was a difficult decision but one that he does not regret. 

Dominic articulated his experience with poise and grace. He explained to me how the absence of his priest collar actually led to what he saw as more deeply meaningful conversations with humankind. Dominic’s embodiment of the Word is enough, and his stripping of the title did not act as a barrier but unlocked a freedom. Last year I wrote an essay on the idea that if God intended for all of humankind to live in mutual relationship then hierarchy is the result of disobedience. In that case, Dominic is among the most obedient of them all and there is much to be learned. 

After my conversation with Dominic, I distinctly recalled a phrase that a mentor in high school once told me. She always said the “journey is human life and life needs company.” As Dominic accompanied me and our ZamFam for the first week in Lusaka then Livingstone, this phrase was more than just true, but embodied as we sang, laughed, cried, learned, and loved. My initial conversation with Dominic and many more enriching ones along the way have been catalysts for self exploration. They have made me realize, like Dominic, that I seek to express my relationship with Jesus in some of the challenges of our time, just as Dominic expressed with me at breakfast. 

Dominic’s ability to meet our group at eye-level, in a way that holds wisdom and playfulness, is something that I yearn to embody during my time in Zambia. A couple days ago I met these two girls named Priscilla and Chi Chi at ZamCity. I sat on the bench with Julia, Brynn, and two best friends in Grade 9, Chi Chi, and Priscilla. After some chatting, Chi Chi began to plait Brynn’s hair. Ever since I started dance and theater around the age of 8, I have always loved the act of someone doing my hair. Don’t get me wrong I love a good braid or updo, but my skin is quite sensitive so it is not really about the actual “style.” To me, it has also been the giving and receiving of braiding and get braided. I see it as a communal, vulnerable, and sacred space, a place that holds space for playfulness but also deep connection. As I reflect back, I realize that my younger self would ask another girl to do my hair as a way of simply connecting. I thought about this when I watched Chi Chi braid Brynn’s hair. Afterwards, I approached Chi Chi and Priscilla to see if they could braid my hair at some point. They happily agreed and we planned to have them come to the convent the next day. 

As the girls arrived, I realized our timing was cutting it close as I had a plan to go to the market and the girls had to be home at 16 hours sharp. After sharing some snacks and taking some polaroid photos together, we settled on a plan for the two girls to come with Emily, Charlie, and me down to the market to see the seamstress, Jesse. As we made our way to the market we started shopping for chitenge. The girls led us through the market and we had the opportunity to stop at some local places that only they know best, like Priscilla’s aunt’s clothing store. As I walked down the small narrow roads filled with shops and people, two men at a store said something to us in Lunda or Luvale that alone, I would maybe brush off, put on a smile, in an attempt to not be singled out (which is impossible here as a new face). As I walked ahead I noticed Chi Chi and Priscilla had stopped to talk to some guys that said something to our group. With their bright eyes and big smiles looking down at us, Chi Chi shouted down the path to us, “They want to know how you are doing!” I think she knew that the three of us were a bit timid to walk down the streets and found ways to make us feel comfortable. 

The next day, the two girls came over to the convent to braid my and Jackson’s hair. I went first and prepared myself to feel that intense tug. Because of how long my hair is, I had all four of their hands working to ensure a tight and intricate braid. We listened to music and chatted about our lives. I learned about both of their families, Chi Chi’s mother, who owns a hair salon in the market next to one of the butcheries as well as Priscilla’s mother who sells vegetables at the market. I have learned what they like to do in their free time, both of the girls love netball and listening to music. And I have also learned what they want to be when they grow up, Chi Chi a police officer and Priscilla a nurse. Chi Chi and I also talked about language and how at home, because of the death of their father in 2019, they speak his language, Lunda, instead of her mother’s language, Bemba. Priscilla and Chi Chi have become such wonderful company on this journey in Zambia and were some of the first people I had the chance to connect with closer to eye level. I also just absolutely adored the moment my music came on and both of the girls and I all silently hummed and swayed in unison. 

I am continuing to explore the mystery of grace and love like The Suscipe mentions as I am here in Zambia. Like Dominic helps me remember “the journey is human life and life needs company.” I feel so deeply here that there is no beloved without a lover and no lover without a beloved — no one can exist without the other. 

To Mom, Dad, and George, Alex and all of my amazing friends, Soph and Gi and my 1018 Girls (love you x1000) I miss all of you more than you know and can not wait to share this experience with you all when we reunite. 

Lucia Doty, Class of 2025

Prior to coming to Zambezi, I think that we all had a variety of expectations. Although we were encouraged to not hold onto these expectations, I’m sure that each one of us came here with at least one or two. I too came to Zambezi with expectations in mind as a student in the health section. For example, when thinking of a traditional Zambezi hospital I was under the assumption that it would be structured similar to an American clinic. With this in mind, I had further made the assumption that the hospital would be under resourced and too small for the amount of patients that it would receive. My first week here in Zambezi has both challenged my expectations, and in some ways has confirmed them. In this post, I hope to illustrate this understanding to loved ones back home and to personally unpack my experiences. 

This morning marked day four of daily trips to the hospital for myself, as I took yesterday off to conduct an interview. Each day in the Zambezi Hospital presents new and astounding learning experiences for myself and the rest of the health group. On day one, we followed Dr. Impande around the hospital as he did rounds in each ward. This first encounter with the patients of the Zambezi Hospital was somewhat overwhelming, while also exciting. We had no idea who these people were, yet their medical information was handed to us. Furthermore, the majority of the patients were excited to see us there, and were happy to see our smiles and have small conversations with us. The following day, we spent more time in individual wards, as we were hoping to build relationships with some of the staff. In my case, I was with Brynn in the pediatrics ward. The nurses were very welcoming and gave us some ideas of what to discuss in our classes. On our second day, we also had an introduction as to how things worked in the hospital. While having a conversation with the nurses, an emergency came up, as a young girl was hit by a motorcycle on the way to school. The nurses were prepared within seconds, and moved as fast as possible. Within ten minutes, a plan was set to care for the girl, and the children’s ward returned to its calm afternoon. The following day consisted of a similar experience as the first, as we continued to follow Dr. Impande and learn more about the inner workings of the hospital. These first four days gave me a surface level understanding of the set-up for the hospital. Today, in the experiences that I had, I dove deeper in this understanding. 

Our visit to the Zambezi Hospital started as normal, with the six of us walking to Dr. Impende’s office to great him, and then moving on to different wards within the hospital. Katie, Ana, and I were invited to watch a procedure in the female ward, while Brynn and Jackson went to PT, and Ani headed to maternity, where she met an amazing teacher and nurse. During the procedure, I think that the three of us felt privileged to be there, but also a deep disdain for bedside manners. As someone who is entering the medical field, I felt that the experience was the exact opposite of what I want to bring to the table when caring for patients. In this moment, I began to feel the complexities of Zambezi. My initial expectations of healthcare in the developing world were coming back to the forefront of my brain. I further felt the need to pushback against a system that allows for such oppressive and demeaning attitudes to be present in such a vulnerable place. With the emotions that I was feeling, I was struggling to accept that the situation was normal. We then left the female ward, and as I turned to share my feelings with Katie and Ana, we were immediately welcomed into the operating room to watch a wound redress. I would say the environment in the operating room was the exact opposite of our prior experience. In this space, the patient was excited to see us and talk to us before he was put under. The doctor and assistants were kind, caring, and respectful of the patient’s circumstance. In this space, there was mutuality between the patient, staff, and ourselves. We were all experiencing this together, and no one was left to the side. It was exactly what I strive to be in the future. 

After leaving the hospital and discussing my emotions with Katie, Ana, and Jeff, I felt that I was just running in circles. On one hand, I was completely condemning the hospital for its lack of respect and care towards the women. On the other hand, I was applauding the staff for the meaningful and superb care of an elderly man. Today has been my first real introduction to the complexities of healthcare in Zambia, and the first time I have been met with such a challenge. As I continued to mull this over, I tried to see from each perspective. The doctor who I felt was cold and cruel, was probably emotionally numb to the situation and very efficient. Then, the doctor who I felt was sweet and understanding, was also efficient, but had a more emotionally effective attitude about his work. While I continued to reflect, I could not help but to think of my expectations and how they were being exposed. Yes, the healthcare system in Zambia is understaffed and under resourced. Yes, not all of the patients are able to be properly cared for due to these circumstances. However, despite this the doctors and staff here are adaptive and multi-specialized. They have the means and ways to care for each person who walks through the door. The two doctors work exceptionally hard to provide for every member of their community, and should be an inspiration to each and every one of us. 

My experiences today taught me the dangers of my expectations. Now, I am not condemning myself for coming to Zambia with standards for how people ought to be treated in a medical facility. However, I am learning to accept that holding these expectations with me does not allow for personal growth. I came to Zambia to get a better understanding of healthcare around the world. By carrying my expectations with me, I have not allowed myself to be fully immersed into a culture that has faults, but is also so welcoming and beautiful. Last night in reflection, we read an article titled, “We See from Where We Stand”. In recollection of this article, I understand that by looking at Zambia through my American viewpoint, I am not integrating myself into the culture. My substandard viewpoint has allowed me to find everything wrong with the healthcare system, and has robbed me of experiencing the culture as an insider. Thus, as I continue on my adventure in Zambia, I hope to leave my expectations behind, and move forward with appreciation for everything this experience has to offer. 

Dear family, I love to all so much and cannot wait to give you all the gifts I got you! I miss you all and am looking forward to future lake days! Logan please do not forget to download “Bridgerton” for me, so I can watch on the plane. 

With love to all families, 

Julia Stanhope, Class of 2027

In the US, I think there are preconceived notions of what life is like in Africa, with little understanding of each country and the vast complexities that make up different communities. I have heard people talk about unsafe drinking water, lack of technology, resources, diseases, etc. in reference to the entire continent. Speaking about Zambia specifically, yes there are problems here, as is in any complex society throughout history. However, there are also incredible people and cultures that bring light to the world that I think might resonate with you all back home in surprising ways. From my time spent in Zambia the past two weeks, I want to shed light on some of what life may look like here and how very real shared human experiences are reflected in the faces I have met. 

My friend Dominic

Dominic has been with the Gonzaga-in-Zambezi program since near the beginning and has helped over 250 students find a home away from home in Zambia. He is like family to Josh, and within only a week of knowing him has become a close friend of mine as well. When you look in Dominic’s eyes and cheeky smile, you see a gentle, kind, and intelligent man. When you listen to his stories, thoughts, and feelings, you discover a community leader, friend of many, and honorable soul. Dominic has dedicated his life to the service of others and his entire being lights up when he’s asked about his many projects. Dominic’s humor is unmatched and he always has a mischievous look in his eyes. Throughout this experience, he has told me, “the beauty lies ahead.” I think of Dominic, my first friend in Zambia, and this saying when I feel discomfort and need to visualize a familiar face rooted in the place I am currently calling a home.

Mama Katendi 

Similar to Dominic, Mama Katendi has been with the program since Josh started coming here in 2007. To everyone reading, the thing you should know about Mama Katendi is that she is a force to be reckoned with and a clear example of a powerful woman. Her cooking is delicious and we all look forward to days we get to be her assistant in the kitchen. On her day off last Sunday, she still showed up to help us with some water difficulties. Mama Katendi was the first person to show me around Zambezi. People gravitate towards her in the market and she walks through life with incredible confidence and grace. Mama Katendi has seven children whom she raised, yet still shows up for anyone else who might need her. She takes time and offers her knowledge about what it means to be a girl and woman in Zambia: She’s an exemplary role model to younger women. 

Debby and Eucharia

Debby and Eucharia’s names alone are woven into the Zambezi community. Debby runs Zam City, a soccer club for youth, and Eucharia is a nurse at the main hospital in town. When I first met Debby and Eucharia, the first thing I noticed was the outstanding love and respect between the couple. Their unconditional love and appreciation is apparent in their young children who I had the pleasure of meeting, as they welcomed me with open arms and encouraged me to join them in their sports, drawing, and chess games. Eucharia takes time each day to show us around the hospital and ensure we are learning to be well rounded healthcare providers in the future. In Zambezi, the main hospital and 38 clinics together serve around 110,000 people. Please let this sink in. There are two doctors to serve all of these locations and patients. This means that nurses here are beyond proficient in procedures and protocols that nurses in the US would struggle to grasp. The hospital in Zambezi along with the 38 clinics are public hospitals with little funding and resources. However, there is an unspoken and felt consensus apparent in the hospital staff that healthcare is a human right, not a privilege only available to those who can afford it or have insurance. Anyone in the region is welcomed at the hospital, regardless of class, status, wealth, ability, gender, or religious denomination. Eucharia is an example of the nurse I strive to be, she is beyond intelligent, amazing at problem solving, caring, empathetic, and resilient to a healthcare system that lacks resources and faces difficult emotional challenges daily. 

Alfred

Alfred is a man I met on my morning walk the other day. In Zambezi, my skin color makes me a spectacle. It is difficult to go anywhere without people staring with curiosity or intrigue as there are really no other white people aside from other Zags. Alfred, was the first person I met to make me feel like a neighbor rather than a visitor. I met him walking behind the convent and he asked me where I was going. After exchanging names, we began walking together and we discussed his family, the weather, and the agenda for the day. We laughed together as we walked, as if we had not just met moments before. As I turned to leave, he gave me a side hug without skipping a beat and pointed to his office saying to me that if I needed anything he was right near by. Then he proceeded to walk away without turning around, as if he were used to seeing me every day, and knowing I would be there tomorrow. His kindness and grounding presence made me feel a sense of belonging. 

The Youth

Children are filled with laughter, curiosity, questions, and complaints. A fact I am learning is not limited to one country and in fact spans the globe. The children I have met here have greeted me with little waves and giggles. They are filled with life and run through the streets skipping, running, and dancing with joy. They fight amongst one another, tease, and make fun as children do. They are the first to bring outsiders into their space, mainly out of curiosity, and are always wanting a supportive hug or high five from an older kid. The teens in Zambezi are impressive beyond words. At Zambezi boarding, a secondary school here, teens undergo rigorous academic courses and only a select handful move on to big universities. They are familiar with academic competition and like us are striving to complete higher levels of education. I have asked countless teens here, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” The answers I have received include doctors, nurses, journalists, artists, athletes, writers, lawyers, and more. The youth I have met here will usher in a bright future and their hopes, dreams, and realities parallel those that I have seen back home. 

The Patients

All of you reading this might have some mental images of the Zambezi District Hospital. I promise that your perception is wrong, as you would be surprised in both good and bad ways. Today I saw a patient, only five years older than myself who decided to have an incredibly invasive and vulnerable procedure. This young woman was scared and in pain. During the consultation, I noticed her body language being tense and she seemed choked up. Her friends were with her, but they didn’t want to be present for the procedure and it was clear to me that she felt she would be undergoing the experience somewhat alone. Before the doctor started, I went over, introduced myself and asked if she would want to hold my hand, thinking to myself that I would want another woman to take my hand and help carry me through the experience if I were in her position. In that moment, I was not a Gonzaga student, or a future nurse. She was not a patient, and we were not strangers. Instead, we were two young women, one supporting the other through a devastating reality that is all too familiar to other women world wide. There was an unspoken understanding and familiarity with the situation at hand and the emotional care required to persevere through the pain and discomfort. As we sat there, she told me she was scared and she began to cry, the procedure (without anesthesia) hurt beyond what my words can convey and her physical and emotional pain was evident. After it was over, I went to check on her and she said she was doing better. The relief in her eyes is something I will never forget. She will return back to her life, having been allowed autonomy over her body and choices, but bearing today’s wound as a scar.  I admire her poise, strength, and willingness to ask for and accept support from a complete stranger. To me, she is an epitome of what it means to be brave in more ways than one.

My goal for sharing these people, stories, and experiences with all of you is so that you might resonate on a personal level with Zambians and the incredible humans I have met here. Maybe you see yourself, a family member, a friend, neighbor, leader, provider, vulnerable person, or caretaker within your community in the short descriptions I have shared. The things we experience as people, while living different lives and surviving and thriving in a variety of situations, often reveal similarities. I am learning how to see someone different from myself at eye level and find the similarities we all share. 

I cannot wait to see my people again in two weeks. I miss all of you more than I ever have and I thank you for encouraging me to partake in this once in a life time experience. I look forward to sharing more faces of Zambia with you and bringing you as close to my experiences as possible through understanding the raw human emotions and character traits evident in all of us. 

Happy 80th Birthday Noni! I wish I were there to celebrate with you but I am sending my love! Congratulations on graduating high school Kira! I am beyond proud of you and cannot wait for our summer adventures together! Love to all my family back home! Mom and Dad, please give the Georgie and Roo a hug for me, and Davis please give Murph and Winnie love from me! 

Ani Posner, Class of 2026