Ashlee is moving to Chipata for the next four months while Andy finishes up his job in Mansa. Here is a recent note she sent about preparing for her departure:
Its been a crazy week trying to get all of my things packed up and ready to go. I finish up all my projects and told everyone that no I am not leaving you anything to remember me by because I do not really know you. Grrr sometimes Zambia is frustrating. It is also weird trying to pack when Andy is staying here, we have had to do a bit of bargaining about who gets what for the what for the next few months. Andy gets the computer, so I am not sure how getting online will be for the next few months. But for me leaving him the computer I get the good Ipod and a new phone and the good tent. Fair trade I think. He also gets all of the America land food that is left but that is more so that I know he will eat something besides pasta and ketchup between now and August.
Friday, March 19, 2010
If you have to abandon your truck in the bush make sure to take your toothbrush
So on Sunday it was our job to take the newest intake of volunteers, who had just arrived in the country 48 hours before, on site visit. So we left Lusaka at 7am. After 5 1/2 hours of driving on a nice paved road we turned of on to a dirt path. It had been raining for two days straight and the road was a bit soggy to say the least.
About three kilometers down the dirt path we got stuck. No problem we had a wench so we just pulled ourselves out. About 100 yards down the road guess what, yep stuck again. Once again we hooked the wench to a tree and started to pull ourselves out. Well this time it did not work so well. After two uprooted trees and a broken wench we knew we were in trouble. No problem we thought we will just call the Peace Corps in Serenje and they can come and pull us out (we where only about 1 1/2 hours from the central house in Serenje.) But after talking to the volunteers whose site we were at we discovered we were 41 kilometers from the nearest cell phone coverage. Okay once again no problem we will just use the radio that is in the truck, but then we remembered that the Luapula truck does not have a radio. Okay again no problem we will use the satellite phone that we have in the truck. Nope dead! Now we knew we were in trouble. Now our only option to get word out to the rest of Peace Corps that we needed help was for Andy to cycle 41 kilometers (24.6 miles) in the rain, in flip-flops and kakis, and on a bike that was too small for him and had only gears of 4 and 7. So off Andy went. He cycled for two hours in the pouring rain. As soon as he reached coverage he sent a message to the PCVL of Central Province. "Cruiser stuck, wench broken, phone almost dead. Please send help fast fast!." She immediately called back and said she was on her way.
About four hours after Andy left us in the village he returned. The only problem was that the truck that came to rescue us was a truck that usually lived in Lusaka. Therefore it did not have a radio or a wench. Andy, Kristina (the PCVL of Central), and I all said we should just leave the truck and return the next day when we had the proper equipment, but the drivers wanted to try and get the truck out. Seeing that we had already been stuck twice that day on the road that we had to use to leave the village we thought it was best to leave before dark. After about 3 hours of trying to get the truck out with no success we demanded that it was time to go, but by this time it was pitch black outside. After loading the truck up and heading out we made it about 100 yards down the road and guess what? We got stuck!! That is right once again no phone, no radio, pretty much no way to contact the out side world and once again call for help. After about thirty minutes of trying to get the second truck out Andy, Krisitina and I decided it was futile. We were all exhausted and it was totally dark. So we decided the best thing for us to do was to go for help. Since it was dark it was not safe to take a bike we walked. We walked 3 kilometers (1.8 miles) through a strange village, in the dark, and barefoot. We were barefoot because we had all been trying to push the truck out of the mud in our flip-flops. Wet dirty feet in cheap rubber flip-flops means only one thing. Blisters!!
As soon as we reached the road we could hear the drunks. Great we thought, the last thing we wanted to do was deal with a drunk Zambian. So we decided the best thing we could do was to walk as fast as we could straight at him and hope he was drunk enough not to notice us. And if all else failed Andy could just knock him out, because no one would believe him in the morning when he told them what had happened. We did not think our strategy would work, I mean three white people walking down the road in the middle of no where Zambia is hard to miss. But much to our surprise he walked right by us with out saying a word to us, he was talking to someone, but we were pretty sure that person was in his head.
After walking down the road for about ten minutes we saw headlights coming in the distance. We where so relived. Now all we had to do is to get them to stop. It took about ten minutes from the time we spotted the head lights for the car to reach us. Thankfully the truck pulled over to see what it was that we needed. The driver seemed hesitant to let us ride, but as soon as he discovered that we were willing to pay he let us all climb in. Andy sat up front with the driver and Kristina and I climbed in back. The driver of the truck greatly underestimated the predicament we were in. He only charged us 20,000 Kwacha (about $4) each; we would have been willing to pay five times that amount. We just needed to get to Serenje so could return the next day with another truck. The truck thankfully had a tarp coving the back because soon after we got in it started to rain. The only bad thing about riding in a truck bed covered by a tarp is that it traps all the exhaust fumes. A few kilometers down the road we stopped. The only reason that I can figure out for the stop was so the driver could tell all his friends to come and look at the Muzungus in the back of his truck. I felt a lot like a monkey in a zoo must feel. Except no one through food at us, which I would not have minded, the only thing I had eaten all day was a hard-boiled egg and a chocolate bar I bought in Lusaka to take back to Mansa as a special treat. Soon enough we got moving, only to make another stop. This time it was to pick up another hitchhiker. No big deal we thought until he through a giant bag of kapinta (little dried fish that so many people in Zambia love to eat) into the back of the truck. I think the smell of kapinta has to be the worst smell in the world and I was quite glad that the diesel fumes were over powering the rotten fish smell.
After about two hours in the back of the truck they dropped us off. We walked for about one kilometer before another car stopped to pick us up and took us all the way to the Peace Corps house in Serenje. We arrived at the house just before midnight. After discovering we had left all of our toiletries in the truck we collapsed into bed, I was tired enough not to care that I had not brushed my teeth. The next morning we woke up and waited for another Peace Corps truck to arrive (it did not arrive until about 10:30 due to the fact it had been stuck in a near by town due to heavy rains.) This one had a radio and a functioning wench. We stopped at the gas station to fill up and pick up some food for the drivers who had stayed the night with the trucks before getting on our way. As we were just about to head out both stuck trucks pulled up beside us. The drivers had literally dug the trucks out. I have no idea how they managed it. But you will never meet someone with as much ingenuity as a Zambian. Our truck definitely has some damage, a few new dents and a little bit of a wiggle as we went down the road, but we made it back to Mansa safe and sound.
I have learned a few of things from this experience. Never go into the bush with only flip-flops. Always have a contingency plan. And if you have to abandon your truck in the bush make sure to take your toothbrush. I also learned that all the things that I carry around in my purse thinking I might need someday like a flashlight, a knife, toilet paper, and chocolate actually do come in handy in a tough situation.
About three kilometers down the dirt path we got stuck. No problem we had a wench so we just pulled ourselves out. About 100 yards down the road guess what, yep stuck again. Once again we hooked the wench to a tree and started to pull ourselves out. Well this time it did not work so well. After two uprooted trees and a broken wench we knew we were in trouble. No problem we thought we will just call the Peace Corps in Serenje and they can come and pull us out (we where only about 1 1/2 hours from the central house in Serenje.) But after talking to the volunteers whose site we were at we discovered we were 41 kilometers from the nearest cell phone coverage. Okay once again no problem we will just use the radio that is in the truck, but then we remembered that the Luapula truck does not have a radio. Okay again no problem we will use the satellite phone that we have in the truck. Nope dead! Now we knew we were in trouble. Now our only option to get word out to the rest of Peace Corps that we needed help was for Andy to cycle 41 kilometers (24.6 miles) in the rain, in flip-flops and kakis, and on a bike that was too small for him and had only gears of 4 and 7. So off Andy went. He cycled for two hours in the pouring rain. As soon as he reached coverage he sent a message to the PCVL of Central Province. "Cruiser stuck, wench broken, phone almost dead. Please send help fast fast!." She immediately called back and said she was on her way.
About four hours after Andy left us in the village he returned. The only problem was that the truck that came to rescue us was a truck that usually lived in Lusaka. Therefore it did not have a radio or a wench. Andy, Kristina (the PCVL of Central), and I all said we should just leave the truck and return the next day when we had the proper equipment, but the drivers wanted to try and get the truck out. Seeing that we had already been stuck twice that day on the road that we had to use to leave the village we thought it was best to leave before dark. After about 3 hours of trying to get the truck out with no success we demanded that it was time to go, but by this time it was pitch black outside. After loading the truck up and heading out we made it about 100 yards down the road and guess what? We got stuck!! That is right once again no phone, no radio, pretty much no way to contact the out side world and once again call for help. After about thirty minutes of trying to get the second truck out Andy, Krisitina and I decided it was futile. We were all exhausted and it was totally dark. So we decided the best thing for us to do was to go for help. Since it was dark it was not safe to take a bike we walked. We walked 3 kilometers (1.8 miles) through a strange village, in the dark, and barefoot. We were barefoot because we had all been trying to push the truck out of the mud in our flip-flops. Wet dirty feet in cheap rubber flip-flops means only one thing. Blisters!!
As soon as we reached the road we could hear the drunks. Great we thought, the last thing we wanted to do was deal with a drunk Zambian. So we decided the best thing we could do was to walk as fast as we could straight at him and hope he was drunk enough not to notice us. And if all else failed Andy could just knock him out, because no one would believe him in the morning when he told them what had happened. We did not think our strategy would work, I mean three white people walking down the road in the middle of no where Zambia is hard to miss. But much to our surprise he walked right by us with out saying a word to us, he was talking to someone, but we were pretty sure that person was in his head.
After walking down the road for about ten minutes we saw headlights coming in the distance. We where so relived. Now all we had to do is to get them to stop. It took about ten minutes from the time we spotted the head lights for the car to reach us. Thankfully the truck pulled over to see what it was that we needed. The driver seemed hesitant to let us ride, but as soon as he discovered that we were willing to pay he let us all climb in. Andy sat up front with the driver and Kristina and I climbed in back. The driver of the truck greatly underestimated the predicament we were in. He only charged us 20,000 Kwacha (about $4) each; we would have been willing to pay five times that amount. We just needed to get to Serenje so could return the next day with another truck. The truck thankfully had a tarp coving the back because soon after we got in it started to rain. The only bad thing about riding in a truck bed covered by a tarp is that it traps all the exhaust fumes. A few kilometers down the road we stopped. The only reason that I can figure out for the stop was so the driver could tell all his friends to come and look at the Muzungus in the back of his truck. I felt a lot like a monkey in a zoo must feel. Except no one through food at us, which I would not have minded, the only thing I had eaten all day was a hard-boiled egg and a chocolate bar I bought in Lusaka to take back to Mansa as a special treat. Soon enough we got moving, only to make another stop. This time it was to pick up another hitchhiker. No big deal we thought until he through a giant bag of kapinta (little dried fish that so many people in Zambia love to eat) into the back of the truck. I think the smell of kapinta has to be the worst smell in the world and I was quite glad that the diesel fumes were over powering the rotten fish smell.
After about two hours in the back of the truck they dropped us off. We walked for about one kilometer before another car stopped to pick us up and took us all the way to the Peace Corps house in Serenje. We arrived at the house just before midnight. After discovering we had left all of our toiletries in the truck we collapsed into bed, I was tired enough not to care that I had not brushed my teeth. The next morning we woke up and waited for another Peace Corps truck to arrive (it did not arrive until about 10:30 due to the fact it had been stuck in a near by town due to heavy rains.) This one had a radio and a functioning wench. We stopped at the gas station to fill up and pick up some food for the drivers who had stayed the night with the trucks before getting on our way. As we were just about to head out both stuck trucks pulled up beside us. The drivers had literally dug the trucks out. I have no idea how they managed it. But you will never meet someone with as much ingenuity as a Zambian. Our truck definitely has some damage, a few new dents and a little bit of a wiggle as we went down the road, but we made it back to Mansa safe and sound.
I have learned a few of things from this experience. Never go into the bush with only flip-flops. Always have a contingency plan. And if you have to abandon your truck in the bush make sure to take your toothbrush. I also learned that all the things that I carry around in my purse thinking I might need someday like a flashlight, a knife, toilet paper, and chocolate actually do come in handy in a tough situation.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Christmas traditions
The holiday season in Zambia is quite a bit different then the Holiday season in the States. In fact it pretty much does not exist. If it had not been for the abundant amount of Christmas decorations at our local grocery store,you almost had to duck to go down the aisles so as not to clothes line your self on the garland, I might have missed Christmas all together. Zambians for the most part do not celebrate Christmas. When you are barely getting by as it is spending extra money on a celebration is out of the picture. They don’t celebrate birthdays either, if you ask most Zambians when their birthday is they can not tell you and there is no way of saying Happy Birthday in any of the local languages. When I would ask people what they would do to celebrate Christmas I usually got the answer of “Nothing.” Some people will prepare a special meal, which usually means slaughtering a chicken and if they are really lucky maybe having rice in stead of the usual staple food of Nshima, and many people will go to special church services.
Last year Andy and I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas morning in our village. Very early in the morning we started to get people, mostly children, coming to the house walking up to us and saying ”Christmas” with a big grin on their faces. We would reply “Yes it is Christmas” or “Merry Christmas” they would then stand there with the grin on there face for a few minutes, the grin would start to fade and eventually the would turn and walk away. We did not understand that they were asking us for gifts. The people outside of our village were more straight forward. They would just walk up to us and say “Give me Christmas” when we would say “No” they would just look at us straight faced and say “Why?” to which I would respond “Ummm, because I don’t know you” but this never seemed to be a good enough answer. We would then cautiously turn and walk away. The “Give me Christmas” requests continued until new years and then for a week or so after that we got “Give me New Year” we soon just learned to ignore it.
This year was different. We spent the Christmas with about ten other volunteers at our house. We had all kind of decorations that parents and friends had sent from the states and everyone was trying to carry on at least a bit of their Christmas traditions from home. We watched every movie we could find that had anything to do with Christmas, ate lots of food and after picking up about twenty packages from the post office almost everyone had at least one present to open. It was a good day, but it was still not the same as being at home. It is hard for it to feel like Christmas when it is 90 degrees outside, we kept hearing how everyone at home was freezing and snowed in and I must say that we were a little bit jealous. It was also much harder this year to be away from family and friends. Andy and I were able to carry on one tradition that is important to us, every year for Christmas dinner we cook a traditional meal from the country of our choosing. In the past we have done Japan, India, Italy, to name a few, but this year we went for most traditional American food we could think of - Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. One thing you learn when you are this far from home is that it is the little things like Mac and cheese that make the homesickness better.
New years is another holiday that is mostly forgotten here in Zambia, and Andy and I decided to go along with the Zambian tradition and were in bed by 9:30. After having a house full of volunteers for about two weeks it was nice to have a quiet house so we decided that would best be taken advantage of by sleeping.
Now with all the holidays finished up we are back to work as usual. School has reopened so I am back to working with my preschool and Andy starts his art club again this week. He will be teaching one and two point perspective and will be having the children draw still lifes. I just finished a work shop for parents and teachers that taught the importance of early childhood education and how they can incorporate early childhood education activities into their daily lives. The children here are unsupervised for most of the day and have very little interaction with their parents or any adults (ask my family, it is one of things that they commented on the most while they were here to visit. Andy and I call the Children “free range” because the just run around doing whatever they want all day.) I am trying to help the parents understand that even with limited resources they can effectively teach their children and help to prepare then to attend school. We never thought that we would be focusing on education as our primary work here in Zambia, but the longer we are here the more we recognize how important education is and that if the education system in Zambia does not improve then true development will never happen here.
Last year Andy and I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas morning in our village. Very early in the morning we started to get people, mostly children, coming to the house walking up to us and saying ”Christmas” with a big grin on their faces. We would reply “Yes it is Christmas” or “Merry Christmas” they would then stand there with the grin on there face for a few minutes, the grin would start to fade and eventually the would turn and walk away. We did not understand that they were asking us for gifts. The people outside of our village were more straight forward. They would just walk up to us and say “Give me Christmas” when we would say “No” they would just look at us straight faced and say “Why?” to which I would respond “Ummm, because I don’t know you” but this never seemed to be a good enough answer. We would then cautiously turn and walk away. The “Give me Christmas” requests continued until new years and then for a week or so after that we got “Give me New Year” we soon just learned to ignore it.
This year was different. We spent the Christmas with about ten other volunteers at our house. We had all kind of decorations that parents and friends had sent from the states and everyone was trying to carry on at least a bit of their Christmas traditions from home. We watched every movie we could find that had anything to do with Christmas, ate lots of food and after picking up about twenty packages from the post office almost everyone had at least one present to open. It was a good day, but it was still not the same as being at home. It is hard for it to feel like Christmas when it is 90 degrees outside, we kept hearing how everyone at home was freezing and snowed in and I must say that we were a little bit jealous. It was also much harder this year to be away from family and friends. Andy and I were able to carry on one tradition that is important to us, every year for Christmas dinner we cook a traditional meal from the country of our choosing. In the past we have done Japan, India, Italy, to name a few, but this year we went for most traditional American food we could think of - Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. One thing you learn when you are this far from home is that it is the little things like Mac and cheese that make the homesickness better.
New years is another holiday that is mostly forgotten here in Zambia, and Andy and I decided to go along with the Zambian tradition and were in bed by 9:30. After having a house full of volunteers for about two weeks it was nice to have a quiet house so we decided that would best be taken advantage of by sleeping.
Now with all the holidays finished up we are back to work as usual. School has reopened so I am back to working with my preschool and Andy starts his art club again this week. He will be teaching one and two point perspective and will be having the children draw still lifes. I just finished a work shop for parents and teachers that taught the importance of early childhood education and how they can incorporate early childhood education activities into their daily lives. The children here are unsupervised for most of the day and have very little interaction with their parents or any adults (ask my family, it is one of things that they commented on the most while they were here to visit. Andy and I call the Children “free range” because the just run around doing whatever they want all day.) I am trying to help the parents understand that even with limited resources they can effectively teach their children and help to prepare then to attend school. We never thought that we would be focusing on education as our primary work here in Zambia, but the longer we are here the more we recognize how important education is and that if the education system in Zambia does not improve then true development will never happen here.
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