We arrived here with a little less than what you could call a real plan. Not to say that there was not a whole 6 page (or longer)detailed outline of what we would do while we were here… the thing was that it was surprisingly vague for something so long.
Don’t get me wrong this was a good thing. It ment we were being flexible and arriving without preconceived notions of what we would do while we were here. We were going to let the people we worked with, decide on the best course of action. Simply said we were volunteering our time and coming along with a big dream for positive change whatever that might look like. And yes, we had some notions that as nurses we would like to work with nurses, and we felt that leadership was something that people would like to learn more about, but as for this big change we wanted to make…. Things were a little murkier. At least for me. It’s one thing to say you are going to try and make 2 wards excellent wards and its another thing to actually turn that into a reality. And those were just a few of our many dreams in the beginning.
Now, let me tell you how this process continued…. as if it were you taking the journey we have been on. (It’s easier for me to tell it this way)
You arrive and you start asking questions and you say yes to as much as you can imagine yourself trying to accomplish. You think that what people are asking for is what is the most important thing and you want to express your commitment to them and to improvements in what matters to them and you imagine all the ways these individual ideas fit with this big positive dream! People love your enthusiasm and they sink their teeth into your interest in their passions. And your teeth sink into the smiles on their faces and it becomes something more addictive than dreaming. And you feel like you have all the time in the world, and all the energy, because you just got here. The youthful surge of excitement takes over any overly rational part of your brain.
And you also kinda think that the ideas will stop and the requests will quit coming. You start working on a few of the ideas and issues and you start to find out why others have asked you to help in the first place. Because these are not easy things… or they would have already done it themselves. Suddenly the size of the tasks you have agreed to stand in front of you. A mountain standing just ahead, with stairs that you need to carve out of the sheer wall, before you can take a single step.
And then you realize that these small requests, they don’t stop coming. You start to realize how long it takes to carve a stair out of stone, and in how many different directions they are pulling you. So you start saying No. And you begin to watch the faces turn away. You see the disappointment and the discouragement creep across a person
here and there. And you feel the cringe contagious as the shame creeps across your own mouth and disappears somewhere behind your eyes. At the same time you start to let go of your big ideals. The grand dreams that propelled you half way around the world begin to loose their pull. You wonder how you could be so dumb and fall for such a classic mistake. You wonder how you got addicted to something you knew nothing about and gave away months of your life on a ridiculous childish dream. You had heard all the warnings and went anyways… what a fool you had been.
Then just as you start to lose the will to carve at the wall ahead of you, someone comes to inspect your mountain. Someone you are accountable to, or someone you made a promise to, or someone who was just believed in you. But they have heard your stories of the mountain you will climb and the great heights you will reach one step at a time. But instead of some victory flag hanging at the top, they find a few tiny stairs carved in the rock. To your horror, they simply announce what they see. It isn’t an announcement of your grand success with your tiny stairs. Instead it is an appraisal of how much farther you have to reach, and how many side stairs you have not built.. and how little time you have left to do it. These words are the hardest in the world to hear. And they wipe the memory of your earliest yeses right clear off your face.
You stand staring at your big dream and you can’t even see the stairs you built. You can’t see the very steps under your feet.
That is, until you find a few people standing on your top stair, scrapping steps into the mountain ahead of you. You start to realize that the person judging your success can see farther than you ever could, because they are higher than the ground where you began. Slowly you start to notice the trail in the woods (that someone else created) leading you to the place where you could see the mountain in the first place.
Just like that, you begin to remember why you dreamed about reaching the top. And you realize you didn’t dream about it first. More importantly still, you know in the core of yourself that you won’t be the last to reach for it.
You started hearing no, so that someone else could start hearing yes. And you walk away so that someone else can keep walking. They will build their stairs faster, knowing how you built yours, and learning from you mistakes. Soon they will be climbing past anything you could have built and they will be dreaming about things you could not have seen from where you started your journey. One day they will pass by the top of your mountain and they won’t realize that they have reached the top of anything, because their eyes have reached the sky.
In fact, you suddenly understand, one day someone was simply dreaming about your tiny stairs, until you came along, said yes, and started building them.
For now, we just keep dreaming about the top and hope that one day we will get to enjoy the view.
Missing everyone back home.
Much Love!
~J
20 Questions for Namakau
Jess and I (Alexandra, or Namakau, which is my lozi name) have been here for 3 months, and I have yet to blog. So I figured I should start with my 20 questions, so everyone can get to know me a little better…
What is the strangest text message you have received while in Zambia?
“I like yo dimplez” This was from a lieutenant in the Zambia Army, who I met outside of Shoprite, as the dog was trying to escape.
What is your favourite thing about Mongu?
Sunsets over the floodplains, kids following me everywhere I go, and the stars. The night sky here is absolutely stunning.
What is the sketchiest mode of transportation you have taken?
A mini bus that left the doors open the whole time. I didn’t think we were going to survive that one. But don’t worry, so far, so good!
Which food do you most miss from home?
Matzo ball soup. It makes me think of my sister.
What North American Luxury do you miss the most?
My washing machine and reliable transport.
What’s the strangest thing you have done during a power outage?
Eye makeup by headlamp, that eyeliner didn’t look quite right.
What do people say to you the most?
“Alexandra! SHHHHHHHH!”
What’s the cutest thing a child has done while you have been here?
There was a little girl sitting at the hospital and I had walked past her a few times during the day. Finally, she gave me a little piece of paper that said she loved me and wanted to be my best friend. To all my friends at home….you have been replaced.
What Zambian habit are you going to take home with you?
I’m going to be on Africa time.
Which Zambian compliment will you never get used to?
“You are looking fat today” (thanks Fred…)
Most embarrassing Zambian Moment
Going to the market and not recognizing Julet. (Sorry Julet, I still feel bad about that…)
When I grow up I want to …
Be just like Fay Karp.
Highlight of your day?
Laughing with Fred in the taxi, he has a laugh like no other. Also, seeing kids we have discharged home come to the hospital for a check-up, and finding them perfectly healthy; it doesn’t get any better then that.
What do you need in order to take a bus trip here?
My ipod, and the promise of a shower at the end.
What’s the hardest thing about Canada, to explain to a Zambian?
Ice hockey. “You know in your cool box when it is very cold and there is ice? Its like lots and lots of that. And then you have blades on shoes, you know?….”
What is your favourite thing about the nurses in Mongu?
They always seem genuinely happy to see us and tell us they miss us when we haven’t been on the wards. When we have difficult days on the ward, they’re so comforting. During the easier days, they’re laughing beside me as we try to cheer kids up. I am so lucky to work with this group of nurses; they’re amazing.
What is the first thing you want to do when you get to Lusaka?
Have a latte.
What is the first thing you want to do when you get back to Canada?
Hug my sister and get a pedicure.
What are you going to miss most about Mongu?
Sunsets, storms, the kids, the people. I’m going to miss just about everything.
If you could only bring one item home with you, what would it be?
My Lozi bracelet.
20 Questions you know you want to ask! ;)
Alex and I were reading Vanity Fair on our first bus ride from Lusaka to Mongu (you know the one where we traveled with all the student’s bags) and we came across some surveys that we thought would be fun for us to do. The ones in the magazine were completed by famous people like Matt Damon. They were kinda fun to read and so Alex and I thought we might do one too.. with mongu modifications of course! This one below is mine! Hope you enjoy it!
~ J
Which body part have you had bitten the most while here? How many times was it bitten and by what?
The right side of my forehead was bitten 14 times in one night by mosquitos. I woke up in our hostel with a mountain range of bites across my face.
What is the funniest comment a Zambian has made to you?
“this one, she is very white.” – Stanley (he also pinched both of my cheeks as he said it)
What Losi phrase do you use the most, and what does it mean?
“Wayna! Na ku nata!” – “little boy! I will beat you.” I’m serious, Alex and I say this all the time…. mostly too each other ;)
Which English phrase do you overuse?
“classic” and “I know, right?” Picked this up from Alex. I also say “interesting” in response to everything.
What is your favourite thing about Mongu?
The night sky. The stars here are unreal. And the children, kids at home aren’t as friendly, thanks to parenting about “stranger danger”!
What is the sketchiest mode of transportation you have taken?
Tough to say. I’ve been on my fair share of sketchy mini busses and I’ve been in taxi’s with drunk drivers(Not Fred!). I think the drunk drivers take the cake. Particularly the one where we could here the beer bottle rolling around at his feet while he drove us home at lightning speed.
Which food do you most miss from home?
Sushi. Specifically Momo’s spicey VEG roll. Also, Narae’s mom’s spicey sauce. And Vietnamese food. Yummmm.
What is the strangest thing you have done during a power outage?
Shaved my legs in the shower by candle light, done my eye makeup by head lamp. (Just in case you are wondering, I don’t recommend it)
Purchase you most regret?
‘Eat sum more’ cookies from the Kaoma bus station. I took a bite and said to Alex, “this is a strange flavour.” She took a bite and said “Gross, these have gone bad.”…. Classic.
What Zambian phrase are you going to take home with you?
“this one”, “that side”, “feel free”, “just here”
Which Zambian compliment will you never get used to?
“Ahhh, you have fattened!” – yup that is a complement here.
Whats the hardest thing about your life in Canada, to explain to a Zambian?
That I don’t watch football (soccer) at home, and that I don’t have a team I care about.ambian football team that took the African Cup of Nations home with them this year :)
Whats the most embarrassing thing you’ve done since you got here?
There are almost too many to mention. The worst was probably dring the first few weeks we were here. I began rounds with one of the surgeons…. and then realized I was on the wrong ward. I didn’t catch on until one of the Canadian students said something. (Thanks Sylvia!)
What is your favourite thing about the nurses in Mongu?
That they call each other “sister” and they send me encouraging text messages when I am not on the ward for a while.
What is the first thing you want to do when you get to Lusaka?
Get off the bus and go to Blue Moon for lattes.
What is the first thing you want to do when you get to Mongu?
Tell our taxi driver, Fred, “lu mi missing ye le a hulu” (we missed you”) and watch his face light up!
What is the first thing you want to do when you get back to Canada?
Hug each of my family members. Then catch up with all my girls over a few bottles of my favourite wine.
What is your favorite African Animal?
Well it used to be the greater bushbaby… but we haven’t ever seen one. So I’ve changed my mind to the African Elephant! <3 (like the one in this picture! We saw him when we were at Mukambi!)
What is the strangest Text Message you have received while in Zambia?
“I will involve da police now!”……. no idea who this was from…
What are you going to miss most about Mongu?
The people.
If you could only bring one item home with you, what would it be?
My lozi bracelette and my journal.
Miserable Stammering
I have been struggling with how to write about this experience. There are many many reasons that this is difficult. One of them being that as a nurse I work with patients ever day (that I work on the ward) and it is incredibly difficult to write about experiences with patients, without identifying them in some way. None of the people in Canada who would read this would ever be able to determine who I am speaking about (I don’t think) but if a Zambian were to read it, especially the Zambian I am referring to, then perhaps they would know. I personally would not want my own struggles with health written by another person and published in a public format. That information is confidential.
But why do we care so much about confidentiality anyways? A friend once shared a theory with me from her social work course that discussed how confidentiality is an idea that someone established and that perhaps they were wrong in doing so. Perhaps by not talking about what is happening with people’s health we somehow imply that what they are experiencing “should not be talked about” and thereby is shameful. That shame then isolates us from the people around us, which ultimately makes it more difficult for us to cope with the situation.
So I don’t think that it is so much an issue of having your secrets out in the open. I think it’s an issue in regards to vulnerability. We would like to be vulnerable with those who we choose to be. And we would like to share our vulnerabilities our own way, with our own twists on. Twists that the person we are sharing with might understand and see in a positive light… or ones that we at least see in a positive light. Maybe we want to share the grusome gory details of our human experience, but we would like to do it with humour to show how we cope with it and how we are still strong despite the weaknesses of our body or mind. Maybe that is why confidentiality is important, not because it creates secrets, but because it protects our stories.
So what does this have to do with my struggle to tell my story about being in Zambia? Well I don’t just deal with patient’s while I am here. My experiences include interactions with nurses, doctors, administrators, government officials, teachers, spiritual leaders, and people from all walks of life. And I’m not sure that their stories are mine to tell. I did not grow up here, I don’t speak the language, and I still miss things on a daily basis that are glaringly obvious to people who share more history with this area. So what right do I have to tell stories about being here, when I don’t understand them myself. They risk almost turning into gossip. They risk creating stereotypes.
“The single story creates stereotypes and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they make one story, become the only story. The problem with the single story is that it robs people of dignity. It makes the recognition of our equal humanity difficult.”
- Chimamanda Adichie
So I worry about venting and creating an image of the people I work with, the patients I see, the country I am staying in, that is untrue. Worse, that it might form someone else’s opinion to that of my own in all it’s ignorance. Maybe I shape the opinions of people in Canada towards what life as a “Canadian nurse” is in Western Province, Zambia. After all, this is only my experience not the experience or all Canadian nurses in Western Province. Or, I might somehow shape the stories of Zambians, which is something I really know nothing about, other than those things that are universal to all people.
But even worse than falsely framing the opinions of someone who does not live here, would be to change the opinions of someone who does live here. To take their story and truths and tell it in a way that robs them of their dignity and creates shame. What if I create a story that disrespects everything they have worked towards and accomplished. What if I shame their reality? When really they should be proud of where they are and where they are going. Because that’s what we run the risk of doing when we take someone else’s story and tell it from our own perspective. We don’t really understand what happened, we aren’t the ones who felt it and lived it. And we don’t know how they feel about it. So by telling their story we assign our own judgement to it. Maybe turning a story of hope, into one of heart break.
I am here to do my best to empower strong leadership within the hospital in an effort to improve patient care. If I break down all their accomplishments in my blog posts because I am frustrated with my own struggles, then I do exactly the opposite of what I am intending to do. So, I wrestle with telling my own tale while recognizing that all of our stories are interconnected and it is not just mine to tell. I’ll keep writing, because I believe that if I can’t find a way to talk about it somehow, then maybe that means I’m doing something I SHOULDN”T talk about… and to me, that means I’m doing something wrong. I’ll write because it’s the only way I know how to stay connected with the people in my life, who help me cope with the things that I find difficult.
Ultimately this is my way of sharing MY experience. But please be careful when you read my posts, to understand that it’s really just the rantings of a person trying to cope with a culture and an environment they aren’t yet used to, and will never truely understand.
“This is all nothing but miserable stammering, I do not know what Africa is really saying to me, but it speaks.” – C. G. Jung
Missing everyone at home. Still trying,
~ J
And then there were two
February 22 2012
On Wednesday Alex and I traveled to Lusaka. We hugged all of the students and said our goodbyes. It was really fun working with them and getting to know them. I was excited for their trip to Livingston, and I hope they have had a lot of good old fashion (safe) fun. I know some of them were planning to do the bungi jump and for that reason only, I am glad we are not there with them. I couldn’t bear to watch any of them jump with that youtube video (of the Australian girl) in the back of my mind.
Then on Thursday evening Alex and I said good bye to Fay and Joe, Jessica and Lianne. We spent the next few days relaxing in Lusaka, feeling kinda spacey and alone, despite the occasional crowd of new friends. I just felt out of place among the city feel. We also went through the whole process involved in gaining our temporary registration with the General Nursing Council of Zambia. Both of us passed our interviews and are currently Registered Nurses in Canada and Zambia!!
Yesterday we took the long bus ride home to Mongu. I say “home” because our spirits lifted the closer we got. Lusaka is simply not the same as the province we are now accustomed too. A smile spread across Alex’s face as we walked off the bus to the familiar sounds of small children asking “Makua, how are you?” Fred (our taxi driver) met us at the bus station in his bright blue car and a big smile spread across his face. “Why did you not text me back about your new Lozi names?” He asked after politely inquiring about our trip. He taught us how to say “I missed you a lot” and then declared that our new names are “Namakau” (Alex) and Nalishebo (myself). Namakau means “born in the time of Famine or Drought” and Nalishebo means “hunger”. I’m not sure why he chose these names for us, but I will ask soon. Alex announced that she “fattened!” which made Fred laugh and look her up and down. .. Maybe it’s better if we don’t ask!
As we drove the route back to our house at the catholic compound, Fred asked us why we will leave in May. He told us that we must explain it to him, because he could not understand. We told him we missed our families and that we were volunteers here who didn’t make any money. He told us to get actual jobs here, but we said we didn’t want to take the jobs away from local nurses. He did not like that response, saying that there was a shortage of nurses and we were needed here in Mongu. Again he tried to convince us to move here, and then when that wasn’t working, made us promise to come back.
I remember what it felt like last year to leave. I keep thinking about that time, now that the students have left. We are going to be here in Western Province for another 2 and half months. So, this is only our half-way point. When the time finally comes, I’m not sure if we will be ready to leave. Not sure if it will feel any different then the time before. We will pack our stuff though, climb in Fred’s car one more time, and go. Somehow we have found a home here among people we often misunderstand, and within a climate that burns our skin. Don’t get me wrong. It’s often hard to be here, to live in another place, far from the people who I love at home. The thing I don’t yet understand, is why then is it still so hard to leave?
Missing you all a lot (Lu mi missing ye le a hulu)
~ Jess
P.S Sorry the posts have been few and far between. I’m struggling to put this experience in words again. And the internet is driving me crazy. Keep looking though, I’m going to start trying harder. <3
Tails of Uruma
Alex and I joked before coming to Zambia, that we should get a dog while we were here. We both love dogs and yet we knew that this was maybe an idea that we would never be able to bring about. You can’t just rent a dog for 5 months (although I have suggested to my mom in the past that this should be possible ;). We didn’t know if the sisters would want a dog, we didn’t think it was our place to just bring one home to their house. Further, we would be working and have little time for a small creature. So I let go of that desire, and just hoped that we would somehow find another way to fulfill our need for animal companionship.
BUT! We arrived in mongu to the sisters house, settled in on our first night and discovered a little black dog running around the yard! Sister Christina told us that the sisters never wanted to get another dog because they all have died, but a few months before we arrived some one had thrown him through the bars of their gate. He had been a tiny little half dead starving thing, and they just couldn’t leave him like that. So they began bottle feeding him back to health. The sisters then named him. (I assure you that this is the perfect way to begin attaching yourself to an animal… or a person!) Each of the sisters wrote a name on a piece of paper and put it in a hat and then they chose from the hat in order to choose his name. One of the sisters wrote down ”Uruma” which means mercy in Swahili and her’s was the paper that was choosen.
Uruma is a crazy little critter. He has fleas and a way of inocently chewing on your limbs until it hurts. We bought him a red collar, aleash,some toys and a bone; however it took him about a week to figure out what to do with a toy. One night we introduced him to a squeeky toy… he howled in response and took off at first, not entirely sure what to make of this noise. He was positive that he did not like inanimate objects that protested to being squished!
We obviously love this litte character.He makes us laugh at the end of a long day, and has taken the duty upon himself to lay on our front porch and bark at anything that passes by. Another of his quirks is that he likes to run ahead of any vehilce leaving the compound,as if to escort you to the gates. This is largely annoying as the driver is usually worried about running him over, but his efforts are adorable.
He needs a little tough love once in a while, but it turns out, thats kinda why we are here.
<3
Hope is exactly what is needed
“Hope is exactly what is needed to remain amongst the living in the face of an uncertain future”
I came back to Zambia, largely because of the words of one nurse. This young woman was so alive, so filled with a youthful energy, despite working in an environment that made me feel as if I had aged over night. I was amazed by her sheer determination and the light she had within her, that continued to burn bright despite the obstacles in her way. Her strength was inspiring and her wisdom beyond her years. I had felt that if I could be more like her, I could work anywhere and stay true to my beliefs to advocate for patients even in the face of uncertainty.
Last year when we were leaving she told us “you people give us hope.” In a way that was it, those were the words that enticed my soul to try again. They encouraged me to recognize that I could will myself to be braver, stronger, and gentler all at the same time. As much as it was difficult for me, if it made someone else’s journey, that was obviously harder than mine, easier; then I had no right to walk away.
And it seams now, that the tables have turned. This past week, her “people” returned the favor. Just as I was beginning to feel my inner strength weaken, the light at the end of the tunnel darken, things changed. My perspective was once again shifted (as often happens to me here). The actions of many strong individuals, who happen to fall together at this time and believe in being greater, have made a difference. They have worked together and spoken together to not only ask for a better brighter future, but to work for it. They are speaking up and are therefore inspiring others to also speak up for themselves. most importantly they are creating an environment where it is unacceptable to silence your heart.
“ If you can’t change it, accept it. If you can’t accept it, change it.” Thank you for reminding me things can change, and together, my friends, you will change it.
~ Jess
Trials… and triumphs
Only day 3 on the ward, and we already have witnessed, and tried to delay, the death of a child. Unfortunately, our efforts to change this inevitable course was pointless, and that small person is gone now. What else is there to say but that this experience is hard. It seams so unfair, and yet we all know life is unfair. You don’t need to travel thousands of miles from home to learn that lesson, and yet being here day to day is a constant reminder of this fact. These events question and quietly strengthen our spirit. Some how breaking down and rebuilding creates a more complete understanding of what life is and where our place is within it… being forced to analyze your own perspective of the world and maybe renew it, or change it. Either way though, it’s still hard.
I am reminded now of what it is to be here, to live here and practice nursing here. Some how I thought this time would be different, and it has been, but in other ways it’s exactly the same. The frustration and misunderstanding builds and breaks away and you are left with something you can’t explain, but which you can some how cope with.
Some times I feel so alone in an experience. Exactly the same moment to moment might be happening to the person standing next to you, and yet your understanding is different. The way the light falls from your angle is not the same and in a similar way our perspectives are not the same. The reasons for your actions are coming from a shared space, but are different and things just look different. There is a living of that moment that will always be seperate and alien from the other right next to you. Sometimes I think that’s what makes words so hard. Yet we pick each other up anyways, and for exactly that reason. Because we see something differently we will drop low at different moments and for other reasons and mostly that person next to you is in a separate place. Even just knowing that once in a while, is comforting. It reminds us that all though you aren’t there right now, you could see this same situation in another light, some time soon.
So we all lean on one another and hope the other can shoulder the burden when we are feeing heavy, knowing we will gladly carry it when things shift and the light looks different for us.
But there are trials and then there are triumphs. We also see miracles here every day: children who get better despite our expectations, and students who can still find it within them to laugh together after a hard shift. It’s always, just as important, to celebrate the small victories, because those are the things that get each of us through the day.
Much love to everyone at home <3 lilato
Jess
The (Mis)adventures of Alex and Jess Begin!
We have arrived!! And have finally had a moment to escape to the internet cafe to try to write down in words what we are experiencing here. Please remember that these are just our stories and not the whole experience, that we do our best, but our “adventures” will always be tainted by our own culture and perspective.
We have been so busy since we arrived in Zambia and internet connections have been slow at best. Lusaka was a whirlwind of jet lag and remembering what it is to be here. We met with Immigration, the Canadian High Commissioner, the Minister for health, the Dean of Medicine at UNZA, the Assosciate Dean of Medicine, and a previous Permanent Secretary of Mongu. We also connected with doctors and nurses who Jes and Fay have known from previous trips. Everyone was incredibly supportive and it has been a blessing for us to be here with Jessica Barker and Fay Karp. For without them, these connections would have been much more difficult to arrange… if not impossible.
Alex and I continually turn to one another in mock amazement that we are even here, let alone meeting with these incredibly influential Zambians. The fact that they take the time to meet with us at all is greatly appreciated!!
Alex and I had the pleasure to arrange transport for 29 people to take the bus from Lusaka to Mongu. All of this in prep for the 24 UBCO nursing students who met us in Lusaka. (Be sure to check out their blog as well, the link is in our side bar, and at the bottom of the page). The bus station is busy and as soon as your taxi pulls in there are people trying to bring you to their bus provider, or trying to find our where you are going, or trying to carry your bags. A sea of accents meet you as you step our of your taxi and try to focus in on the person who seams to be directing you in the direction you had already intended to go in.! So we talked to one of the young men who worked at Shalom Bus Services. He ushered us into the office so that we could discuss the logistics of 29 seats and roughly 80 fifty pound bags. We then had to go back the next day to discuss the price and pay for it. I had to carry over $600 Canadian to the bus station… which is equivalent to roughly 3,500,000.00 kwatcha. I’m not gonna lie, I was acutely aware that many people at that bus station knew we would be back with lots of money that day.It went off with out a hitch though! We bargained the price down and spent the saved money on the students taxi’s the next day.
The real (mis) adventure took place the next day….
Alex and I caught a taxi to the bus station at 6 30 am in order to beat the students there. Our job was to heard them to their bus, pay their taxis, and ensure that their bags got on the bus free of charge. When we arrived at the bus station though, the staff were already loading the bus with a ton of various boxes and bags. Alex and I knew right away that all our stuff was not going to fit. lol. The mis adventure begins.
The students began to arrive and I totally forgot to pay for their taxis! They began dropping their bags and someone began saying we needed to pay extra for our bags. Alex jumped in there and announced we had talked to their boss and we would not be paying extra, and every bag would be getting on this bus or there would be trouble. So the bags began to load onto the bus free of charge… and the students kept coming. We also had to ensure that each bag was tagged and that we had the stickers for each bag… while this is taking place, people are grabbing the bags and moving them around. Laughing and joking with us that we are going to Mongu. Asking some people if we will be their girlfriends…. ya TIA (This is africa).
Students are still arriving and the bus guys get the idea that we should try to reload the bus differently. So now everything that has gone on the bus, needs to come off. We are situated with the bags, all the students, local people, and more stuff right between two buses. So we had about 15 feet of space between which we could put everything and also stand. The tagged bags were being mixed back in with the untagged bags and the students are looking on with slightly panicked expressions. At this point I yell at everyone to get on the bus so we have room to maneuver everything. I can tell this is not what the students want to do.. or at least it appears that they would really rather not take their eyes off the only things they have brought from Canada. lol. Grudgingly most of them get on, and Alex and I do our best to watch that no one takes off with any of the 60 or so bags. … Might I add more bags are still coming.
So they start loading them on again, then part way through decide this is never going to fit. So the in -charge comes to talk to us about a new plan. Again we are going to unload the bags, this time we will load them back into a mini bus. Then Alex and I can go with the bags and the mini bus. He assures us there will be no extra cost. We are thrilled. But we know it won’t all fit. And our mini bus adventures from last years trip are still fresh in our mind. Neither one of us has any fantasy of what that bus ride will be like.
The mini bus gets loaded. Good news: the doors close. Some of our stuff is still on the other bus with the students. Bad news: there is only room for one of us, and the driver. I am not happy. Alex volunteers to go in the mini bus. Even worse, she won’t let me take her place. We hug and dramatically express to the in-charge that we are “canadian sisters” and that I need to meet the driver. We insist that the tire pressure must be checked, they must have extra fuel, and they must have an extra tire. I brought Alex here half of the food that we had packed for the trip, as well as a vanity fair magazine ( appropriate mini bus reading material) and her camera, then I nervously climb on the other bus. .. Then Alex hops on our bus and announces there is a new plan!
They must have been touched by our ridiculous scene, because the in -charge has decided to unload the mini bus and load all of the bags onto a larger 30 seater bus. He assures us that this way all the stuff will fit, and Alex and I can stay together. Now I am acutally happy.
Again, our stuff gets loaded off of both busses. We must have looked totally ridiculous to everyone watching but I didn’t care at all. My accountabila-buddy and I would do this together :) So the Shalom bus with Fay and Jess and all the students left, and we stayed behind to wait for the other bus. At this point we got talking with the in-charge. He asked us what we thought of the hearts of the Zambian people. I told him we thought their hearts were good. We had been supported by local people throughout our trips and had been blessed with good luck so far… he did not change our views or disappoint us! (Thank you Saidi!)
This story gets even longer. Including being lead into the police station at the bus depot, alone. But I’ll spare you the rest of the details because everything worked out and any nervousness I felt was purely from my own misunderstanding about such ordeals. An hour after the first bus left, Alex and I climbed into another bus with a driver and copilot, an official letter of passage from the police, and 80 bags from Canada. We drove through Lusaka with Bob Marley blaring (there must have been four different versions of buffalo soldier on that CD, dance remix included) and arrived in Mongu 8 hours later.
A special thanks to Saidi from Shalom for making this process as easy as was possible. Trust me, this was the best possible outcome! :)
Much love to everyone at home… more stories to come!
~J
The count down has started! 5 DAYS!
Alex and I are going back to Zambia for 5 months. Our funding came through, and so we are able to go for the whole time!!! Thank you so much to the donors who are making this trip possible. I am incredibly grateful :)
We leave in five days and my mind is just a blur with everything I have to get done before we go. Stuffing my things in backpacks and suitcases seams to only be a tiny portion of the preparation for this trip and yet there is tons to pack! So here I am blogging aka procrastinating, in an effort to stop stressing about all the stuff I am probably forgetting. ;)
On January 10th, Alex and I jump on a plane with Jessica Barker and Fay Karp and begin our long journey back to Zambia. It’s our second time going there and so we kinda know what to expect and at the same time are aware that we don’t know what to expect at all. But, this is exactly what we signed up for, so I guess we are just going have to wait and see what happens!
I hope I get to say goodbye to all my friends and family before we leave, but just in case I don’t… See you all in June!!
Missing everyone already.
Much Love,
~ Jess
