Reflections from 10,000 Feet

I find myself feeling extremely emotional as I sit here during this 10 hour flight with lots of time to reflect.  As I expected, I have such mixed feelings.  Of course, I am excited to be going home to see my family and friends.  There are so many things I am excited to do back in the States - I know this year will be purposeful and productive and I need to go home to finish some of the things I have started.  But, I also find that my heart aches with the sadness of "goodbye".  I love traveling and I love spending time with people from all over the world, attempting to speak several languages and experiencing and sharing our cultures.  I love Africa.  I love Zambia - the place I have come to feel is like a second home.  I love Angola, DRC, Somalia, Rwanda - all these countries that I have come to know through my friends that have welcomed be so warmly into their lives and shared with me their culture, history, personal stories, and relationship.  I love that I feel a part of something - something bigger than a nuclear family unit.  I have become a part of so many networks of loosely defined extended families.  I love the instant camaraderie I feel when I meet someone new with nothing in common except a love and passion for Africa and a few phrases of a shared language that they never expected an American girl to know.

I still feel a personal conflict raging within me.  I struggle so much with the allure of the materialism of the American middle class.  I'll admit that I am easily distracted by shiny things and fall victim to the illusion offered by clever marketing - not so much of "things", but of a lifestyle... a level of comfort, prestige, style, and image.  When these things are available to you, it is easy to forget what is truly important.  i went to Zambia excited for the experience - cherishing the simple pleasures of relationships with other people and with nature.  I went to Italy with an agenda of acquisition - of perfect perfect views that go well in a photo album and of items that will make me believe that I am somehow more sophisticated.  I came home with fashionable jewelry, fine Italian leather accessories, trendy clothing, handmade handkerchiefs, and perfume created from a recipe handed down from 17th century monks.  It is all an illusion... it is a lie.  And the saddest thin is that I know that and yet I still play along.

A couple movies I was watching on the plane illustrated my thoughts perfectly.  I started with The Joneses - a movie that shows just what slaves we've become to image, via materialism.  We (Americans?) will do anything to keep up with this ideal we think we need to meet.  In the movie, one man gets himself into financial ruin trying to keep up with the lifestyle of his new neighbor.  Eventually, his situation feel so dire to him that he commits suicide.  The saddest part was that he was trying to imitate a lie - the new family was nothing more than salespeople trying to influence their social networks in a clever marketing strategy.  Then, I watched The Book of Eli- a practically post-apocalyptic story of the desperation of mankind when brought nearly to ruin, and the hope represented by faith.  In the movie, a young girl asks an older man to talk about the world before the war that changed everything.  "What was it like - the world before?"  "People had more than they could use.  They didn't know what was precious.  We threw away things people kill for now."

It breaks my hear to know that this is a very accurate statement... one that describes even me.  I am not looking upon society from a place of judgement, but taking a critical look at myself and the society that I am a part of - trying to understand it, trying to understand myself, trying to take an honest look in order to move forward in a positive direction.  

Going Home

Day 79 away from home

What a crazy morning!  I got back to Rome so late that I just found a hotel close to the train station instead of travelling to the hostel across the city so long after dark.  Turns out the only place that had a free room was the big fancy one, so I spent my last night in Italy soaking in a huge bathtub in a posh hotel.  I set my alarm for the early morning so I could catch the train to the airport and have plenty of time to catch my flight.  As that would have been only a few hours after I arrived at the hotel, I completely slept through my alarm, waking up just in time to rush out and catch my flight.  I called down for a taxi to save time and to my surprise, it was not a taxi waiting outside the hotel, but a hired car.  You know… one of those glossy black sedans with leather seats and a handsome Italian driver who held the door open for me.  I felt a bit disoriented by this lifestyle that is so different from what I am used to.

I thought things were working out okay as we pulled up to the terminal just in time for me to pick up my luggage and check in.  Oh how naïve and optimistic I can be sometimes.  My driver dropped me off at Terminal 1, where the international flights offered by KLM leave from.  From there, I had to wander around trying to find out where to go to pick up the luggage that I had left.  Turns out, that was in Terminal 3, which I found out after asking several people.  So I trekked to Terminal 3 to pick up my bags, after which I had to walk back to Terminal 1.  Confused by the screens and signs attempting to direct people among the seemingly zillions of ticket counters, I finally found a row that said KLM with a long queue and stood in line to wait.  So I waited… and waited… and waited… and finally I reached the front, glad to finally check in just in time for my flight.  To my devastation, the not-so-helpful woman at the counter told me that the flights to the States don’t leave from that terminal and she had no idea where I was supposed to be.  I finally found an information booth and asked the gentleman there where to go for a flight arriving in Washington, D.C.  “I’m sorry, but the only flight to Washington is with United.”  What!?!  No, no, no… I’m sure that my flight is with KLM.  I even checked the flight status on the KLM website last night.  So I boot up my laptop to try to find the copy of my Orbitz reservation, and there it is… KLM flight 6037… to DETROIT, MICHIGAN!  Ahh… maybe that’s why he couldn’t find my flight.  By this time, I have spent all morning running around the airport completely lost and my flight was scheduled to leave in 30 minutes… FROM TERMINAL 5!!!  “It is not possible… check-in for that flight has closed.  And, the next flight is tomorrow… it’s a daily flight.”  So my next step was to try to find the shuttle to get to Terminal 5, which (at this point, not surprisingly) was no easy task.  As I walked again from Terminal 1 to Terminal 3, all I could do was think “I just want to go home,” as tears of frustration began to well up in my eyes.

Well, let’s just say that I am now in the air, on my way home to San Francisco, so clearly everything turned out okay in the end.  Turns out, my KLM flight was being offered through their U.S. partner – Delta Airlines – and, therefore, located in an entirely different part of the airport.  I ended up (for a price, of course) placed on stand-by on a flight to Atlanta and another to SFO.  I was able to get a seat on the flight to Atlanta, finally met the one person in the airport that was both friendly and helpful, and if my luck holds out and I get a seat on my next flight, then I will actually be arriving home 30 minutes earlier than I would have if I had made my original flight.

Farewell Italia!!

Day 7 in Italy

This world is such a strange place.  Life is just pretty darn weird – in a totally awesome way – if you ask me.  Last night was unlike any I could have imagined.  I met these two Argentinean girls who were staying at the same hostel and two Italian guys (locals from Sorrento who had come to the bar on the roof of the hostel to start their evening).  The evening started out pretty mellow.  I had been feeling a bit frustrated with this ϋber-chic hostel where the aesthetics were great, but the friendly vibe had been missing.  I was finding it difficult to connect with the other guests and was starting to feel a bit lonely.  So, I went up to the deck to try to get online, chat with some friends from America, and update my blog.  Thanks to my new Argentinean hermana, the night took a radical new direction.  As the little area of couches and chairs around me filled in with people, I slowly got drawn into the conversations here and there as the Italians flirted with the girls staying at the hostel.  At some point, it was decided that a field trip to the beach was in order and one of the Argentinean girls who happened to be sleeping in the bunk below mine invited me along.  What an amazing night!  I ended up going with one of the Italians (in a comedic twist, they both happen to be named Antonio J ) and the two Argentineans to the beach.  There was a party going on at some bar/club on the sand and people of all ages (from small children to middle-aged adults) were having fun.  A random mix of pop, salsa, and even disco was playing in the background, so my little group talked and danced a bit under the moon as we put our feet in the surprisingly warm-ish water.  Antonio eventually talked me and one of the other girls to join him in a late-night swim and we went in fully clothed in our dresses, playing in the waves.  I would have never imagined that I would be swimming (in a full length dress!!!) in the Mediterranean Sea under an orange moon with the stereotypically charming Italian man and my bubbly new Latina friend.  We spent the night conversing in a mixture of Italian, Spanish, and English, joining the rest of the night owls back up on the roof in the wee hours of the morning.

Today I went out with Barbara (the bubbly Argentinean) walking around Sorrento – shopping, and talking about men mostly, while we took in the last glimpses of this incredibly beautiful seaside town.  We sat and had lunch – the BEST pasta I have had so far in Italy – and the day began to get away from us much too quickly.  Before I knew it, it was time for us to head back to the hostel so I can make my way back to Rome.

Once I arrived in Naples (after the first of two train rides on my way to Rome), I remembered why I had been so relieved to arrive in Sorrento in the first place.  I have the same feeling in Naples as I do in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania or Lusaka, Zambia.  Again, I was starting to feel completely out of place as I tried to find something to do to pass the time as I waited for my next train. 

I noticed something interesting in Naples the first time I was here, but didn’t have the guts to investigate until now.  There are A LOT of Africans in Naples.  I haven’t noticed this in any other city that I’ve been in here in Italy.  So many questions had been swimming around in my head as I mulled over this observation and I kept wanting to go up and talk to them… feeling a familiarity and longing for my friends back in Zambia.  Tonight, as I noticed a group of men sitting outside the little cafeteria where I was having a bit of supper, I finally got the courage to just go up and find out what the deal was.  It turned out to be a great way to spend an hour waiting for my train.  It felt really nice to hang out with an Angolan and two Congolese guys (and a Sri Lankan too!) and just chat for a while.  The Angolan is a doctor (from a long line of doctors in his family) and we became quick friends.  We talked about the African immigrants and refugees in Italy, adjusting to a new country, politics in Angola and America, missing home and our families, and all sorts of other things.  Again, the conversation swam in a sea of languages… this time French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Luvale, and Swahili.  I think my brain might explode soon… haha.   They were thrilled every time I revealed a few words indicating knowledge of yet another shared language.  It’s crazy how easy it is to make friends with Africans.  Although, to be fair, it was pretty easy to make friends with Argentineans. J

And now, I’m on my way to Rome for a quick sleep in a hostel and then departing on my flight to the States in the morning.  As wonderful and relaxing as Sorrento was, I’m ready to come home.  I’m ready to see my family and catch up with my friends.  I’m ready to stay in one place (for a least a couple weeks anyway) and stick my gigantic backpack in the closet for a while.  La dolce vita is actually a bit exhausting. J

Paradise... Found

Day 6 in Italy

I went to Rome and I did not find my Italy – that picture of sublime relaxation, that summertime carefree attitude, with a splash of that effortless chic sophistication that only the Italians can do.  I went to Naples, and still I did not find my Italy.  I arrived in Sorrento yesterday, and as I was sitting on the deck of a wooden sailboat, cruising around the island of Capri, I thought… at last, I have found MY Italy.

Yesterday, I visited what I think just might be paradise.  I went on a boat tour of Capri.  It was just the captain and his three kids, an Italian couple, a Venezuelan couple, and me out on this beautiful wooden sailboat.  Since I was the only one whose primary language is English, we mostly tried to speak Italian and Spanish together and I was surprised at how well I held my own.  After all those days trekking around Italy, feeling totally out of place, as I was swimming in the Mediterranean Sea I finally felt completely at home.  The water is crystal clear and this deep jewel-tone blue.  It was by far one of the most enjoyable days of my life.  I even had the boat all to myself for a couple hours as the rest of my group went to have lunch on the island.  I stayed behind to swim and nap.

Today I just walked around Sorrento, shopping a bit (I feel very chic with my super cute Italian top and bracelet), and stopping to get a pedicure and massage (it’s been two or three weeks and my back is STILL jacked up… I am really looking forward to seeing a chiropractor).  It has been nice to just do nothing and have a real vacation.  The only thing that would make this better is travelling with a girlfriend (Ashley… do we need to plan another vacation together?) since I keep wanting to share this experience with someone.  I wouldn’t be totally opposed to travelling with a boyfriend if one happened to come my way… as I was swimming from the boat to the rocks along the coast, I found this little cave to swim into and explore and in this secluded little bit of paradise I thought to myself, “this just might be the most romantic place on earth… and I’m alone with the mussels clinging to the rocks”… haha.

It is very weird to have gone from a developing country where many of my friends live off of $40 USD a month, to Italy, where I am eating good food, drinking good wine, and window shopping designer labels.  I’ll admit, I have to wrestle a bit with guilt about enjoying this life of indulgence while so many people barely have their basic needs met.  I realize that the reality is that I have the incredible luxury of having been able to live in Zambia for a bit, but leave anytime I want and return to an affluent, Western lifestyle, while many of my friends in Africa may never have the ability to just pick up and see the world whenever they want.

Life is weird.  It is messy and complicated and wonderful.  I think I am finally becoming more comfortable with that… less insistent on “figuring it all out” and more willing to just experience it.  It’s amazing to think of how transformative the first 5 years of my “twenties” have been… here’s to the next five!  I can’t wait to see what’s in store for me. J

Pizza My Heart

Day 3 in Italy

I thought that perhaps the reputation Naples has for pizza must be a bit exaggerated.  It had to be all hype, right?  Nope.  I had the absolute BEST pizza of my entire life today.  Other than that, Naples isn't really a big deal.  It's kinda grungy actually.  Sure, there are the old buildings and statues, fountains, castles, and piazzas... but they're all covered in graffiti like everything else.  But, it's nice and quiet and not so crowded with tourists.  It was nice to just walk around and shop a bit today.  I went to a few small stores to get some groceries for dinner... wine, cheese, bread, peaches, and salami... yummm.

I can't believe that I'm saying this, but I think I'm ready to come home.  I'm hot and tired.  It's so muggy here... the adjustment to the heat and rich food has completely zapped my energy.  And I miss my family and my friends.  I can't wait to give my mom a hug and have my dad tell me to stop talking so much... lol.  I can't wait to see my friends from church and spend some time with Ashley.  I want to run at MY beach.  Yes, it'll be nice to come home.

Roman Holiday

So I'm leaving Rome to head to Naples today.  Yesterday was wonderful though.  After a nice lie-in I made my way to Villa Borghese (the Roman equivalent of Central Park or Golden Gate Park).  It was so beautiful and quiet.  I went to the Museo e Galleria Borghese, a feast of artwork throughout the ages.  The depiction of Paulina Borghese as Venus was incredible.  It's this giant slab of marble, but the cushions she sits on and the fabric strewn across her lap look so real that you almost believe it would feel plush if you touched it.  As I came out of the museum, I got caught in a summer shower.  The rain felt so good... so refreshing.  After some gelato, I lay on the grass for a quick nap.

I spent the rest of the day wandering around Rome's Centro Sotrico.  It was great to just get lost and marvel at the piazzas, statues, and fountains I came across as I went.  I made my extravagant Italian purchase for my trip... a bottle of honeysuckle perfume from this really cool perfumery and apothecary shop.  It smells absolutely divine and I feel like a proper grown-up lady now, with my signature scent.

I am awed by the ancient history that is seen everywhere in Rome.  The buildings and cathedrals, the statues and fountains... it is such a treat to be somewhere that is considered the birthplace of modern civilization.  You cannot find history like this in America or in Africa.  As I wandered the streets of Rome, I came across a little exhibit perched along a fence by the side of the road.  I met the quirky little street artist that was the mastermind of this odd array of items.  One of the displays had a sign that read "Rome is an open-air museum."  I couldn't agree more.

Rewind

So I got so excited posting about Rome that I forgot to post my last entry from Africa.... so here ya go....

Day 69 in Zambia

Okay, so I guess I’m not technically in Zambia anymore.  I’m somewhere over the north-east region of Africa (I think), on my way to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.  It feels like I was just making this journey (although in reverse).  The past ten weeks have flown by so quickly and at the same time, I feel like I have been in Zambia for such a long time that it feels very strange to be leaving.  I wonder if maybe I’m comfortable in discomfort – that feeling of never quite having your bearings… never staying in one place long enough to develop roots… all for the sake of the next grand adventure.  But, I admit, I can get used to nice cushy leather airplane seats (I like to be selectively comfortable, I guess… hehe).  Actually this flight has turned out really nicely.  And to think it could have gone horribly wrong.  I arrived at the Lusaka International Airport a good two and a half hours before my flight, and used every minute.  With all the luggage I’m carrying, I had to check an extra bag.  I looked up the cost ($17 USD per kilo) on the Ethiopian Airlines website and noted that it said I could pay by credit card.  So I arrive at the airport and have to ask an employee where to go for each step of the checking-in process.  I get so lost in that darn airport.  Luckily Zambian culture encourages interaction with strangers because there aren’t very good signs to guide from the taxi to the first security check-point to the international flight ticket counters.  Once my luggage and I were scanned (and I got an extra pat down by a very friendly woman who joked with me about my inability to learn to tie my chitenge correctly even after 10 weeks in Zambia), I headed to the long queue to check-in and get my boarding pass.  After entertaining myself by making faces with the small child looking back at me over her mother’s shoulder, I finally made it to the front of the line.  I got my boarding pass and checked in my luggage and was then directed to see a man standing at the back of the line (where I started) to see about paying for a getting a receipt for my extra luggage.  Realizing that the woman at the ticket counter never mentioned the cost of my extra bag, I made sure to ask as I was leaving.  $150 she tells me.  What!?!  So I see the man at the back of the line.  He and I agreed that the website “mislead” me because instead of being charged per kilo for my (very small and light) bag, I would be charged per piece at this MUCH higher rate than I anticipated.  Additionally, they have NO credit card machine at the airport, so it would have to be in cash.  “But, I don’t have $150 in cash”, I explain.  “Can you get the rest from a friend?”, he asks.  Umm… no.  I don’t have a “friend” just hanging out in the Lusaka Airport with $30 USD to give me (almost a full month’s salary for a FORGE employee in Meheba).  So he tells me he will talk to his supervisor and to take a seat and wait.  So I wait… for over an hour.  After seeing the same man walk by a couple times… and even ask me if I had been able to “raise the money” yet, I start getting worried because my plane is scheduled to board… like… now.  So I find the man again and ask if the supervisor is coming because I don’t want to miss my plane.  And he just says (looking at me as if I was crazy for have waited this long anyway), “oh.. go ahead” and waves me over to immigration.  What!?!  Sometimes I both love and hate the inefficiency with which this country operates.  Apparently if you just wait it out – serving a one hour sentence in a plastic chair, people-watching at the airport – you can earn your additional bag’s flight to Rome.  Nice!  $150 that I can now spend in Italy.  And then, just to sweeten the deal, I get on the plane and am shocked and amazed that, instead of the tiny, cramped seats of the rickety old plane I arrived in Lusaka on, I was boarding a plane with such spacious and comfortable black leather seats that it took me a beat to realize that I wasn’t looking at the business class section, but the economy section that I would be allowed to sit in.  It’s the simple things that can really make life feel luxurious… ahhhh…

Afterword:

An American in Africa

Life in Meheba: A Practical Guide

Disclaimer:  while much of this may apply to many countries in Africa, some may be specific to Zambia or the refugee population in Meheba.  Much of this is also written “tongue in cheek” and is meant to be humorous as well as helpful.  Do not take me too seriously or be too offended.

-          Learn the appropriate greetings and response in several languages (people appreciate even if you can speak only a few words of their language… it also comes in handy at police checkpoints and encounters with security guards)

-          Learn how to eat nshima properly (with your hands, ball up the nshima and eat with the meat/sauce provided with the meal).  It’s fun to surprise Africans when a white person acts like a proper African.

-          Always carry spare talk time… you will always run out when you need it the most.

-          Some useful vocabulary:

o   Mzungu (in Swahili) and chindele (in Luvale) both mean white person.  Get used to hearing this shouted every time you walk by someone.  Do not be alarmed if they also laugh or shout things out at you… they are being friendly, but you probably look pretty ridiculous and are doing something stupid… don’t take it personally.

o   Africans have a very different sense of time.  Do not expect things to be done quickly and learn the various forms of “now”.  “Now” = possibly sometime in the future, but maybe not at all.  “Just now” = later or sometime in the near future.  “Now now” = actually now.  Don’t be surprised if people are hours late to meetings and appointments, but be sure that you are on time.  If you are late, the person you are meeting is sure to be on time and will leave because you weren’t there.

o   “I’m coming” = may actually mean “I’m going”

o   He and she are totally interchangeable.  Don’t expect these terms to correspond with the gender of the person being talked about.

-          Have a cat.  They eat mice, bugs and lizards (even bats if your cat is really badass).  They are also useful when you’re having a bad day and need someone to call names (better yet, name them something like chindele, eway, or fatass and you can affectionately insult the furry little buggers).  Warning:  keep all food secure if you don’t want them to eat it (and they will knock lids off of pots and climb on surprisingly high counters to get to it) and keep your windows closed unless you want to wake up to a cat in bed with you.  To discourage begging for food and general annoyances, kick them or toss them (they land on their feet so don’t feel too bad).  Also, be sure that you deworm them every so often.

-          Don’t pet the dogs.  This is probably good advice in any country, especially in the third world.

-          Learn to make a fire on the braizier.  For fun, hide the firestarter from new people and watch them do it the hard way.

-          Don’t expect anything to make sense.  Don’t get upset when things are totally illogical.  Learn to laugh about it and just go along with the “Zambian logic”.  I’m sure it makes sense to Zambians… there must be something wrong with us Americans if we don’t get it.

-          Don’t piss of the government, police, guards, or anyone with an AK47.  It’s best to avoid jail, fines, and deportation.  Before travelling, you should probably learn the laws of the country you are going too, including traffic laws.

-          If living in the bush, make friends who don’t.  Use them for good food, showers, and lots of fun with other ex-pats.

-          Take Malarone to prevent malaria.  Also, Moziless is the best bug spray.  It works and smells good. J  Also, be sure to have antihistamine cream to keep from itching.

-          Experiment with different things to do with rice, beans, and tomatoes.  Have lots of condiments on hand to spice things up (Nanos Wild Herb Peri Peri is the hands-down BEST).  Try to eat a variety of foods so you get proper nutrition (avoid living off of nshima as it has almost no nutritional value).

-          Wear sunscreen.  Even if you are a white South African you are still WHITE.  You will burn in the sun.

-          Even if you are unemployed, dirt poor, or in tens of thousands of dollars of debt from student loans, people will think you are a rich, white American.  They will ask you for a lot of things (refrain from feeling guilty if you don’t or can’t give it to them) just to see if you will do it.  They will probably laugh if you tell them that you are unemployed and they actually make more than you do.

-          Pack light.  Talk to someone who lives where you are going to find out what you actually need to bring and what you can buy there.  If you can, have things made.  Things from a woodcarver or seamstress you meet can be useful while you are there, or make great gifts to bring home and helps support a hard-working entrepreneur.

-          Items I brought that have come in handy: pocketknife, ipod, camera, laptop, scarf (pashmina), watch, sunglasses, baseball cap, first aid kit, sewing kit, extra batteries, USD, lotion with sunscreen, nail polish (it’s nice to feel like a girl every once in a while), antihistamine cream, chocolate chips, chewable Pepto Bismol, running shoes, sarong/chitenge/kanga, quick dry underwear (Ex Officio), nice jacket/windbreaker, clothes with moisture-wicking material, universal plug converter thingy for adapting to all the different types of electrical outlets in the world, reading material (a Nook or Kindle is handy), headlamp, business cards with contact info, journal, pens and stationary, nail file, pumice stone, reusable shopping bag that folds into a little pack, a duffle bag that folds up small for extra luggage space as needed…

-          If you want to stay on a houseboat on Lake Kariba (borders Zambia and Zimbabwe) stay on the boat called This Is It docked at Marineland. 

-          If you are in Solwezi, Yummilicious has better bread than Shoprite.  Food at the Golf Club is really good and affordable. 

-          When driving, watch out for potholes (most of the roads are shit) and police checkpoints (just make sure you stop so they can check that you paid your road tax.

-          Do not buy a Land Rover.  Buy Land Cruisers because Toyota parts are easy to come by.  Land Rover parts are nearly impossible to get.  If you want to be really cool, outfit your Land Cruiser with a CB radio, nice sound system, rooftop tent, and freezer/refrigerator in the back.  Yes, I have a friend with a truck like this and it is AWESOME.

-          Be adventurous.  Make friends.  Try new things.  Do not be afraid to make a fool of yourself trying new languages or dancing like a nut.

-          The only appropriate response to the question “How are you?” is “Fine”.  If small children say “How are you” it will most likely sound like one word and even if they respond “fine” when you ask them how they are, do not assume they will understand you if you say anything else in English.  When greeting people, it is appropriate to find out how they are, where they are coming from, where they are going to, etc.  Take the time to stop and greet people properly.

-          Do not be offended if people comment on your weight (whether you are large or small, gained or lost) or if they say you look tired.  Africans are just observant and will point out the facts.  They are not judging you, so get over yourself and your American sensitivity.  Any negative judgments are probably your own internalized prejudices and it’s probably healthy for you to work through your insecurities anyway.

-          Do not be alarmed if it sounds like small children are being maimed outside your window… it’s just the stupid goats.

-          Animals are dumb and they will run right across the road in front of vehicles and bicycles.  The question “Why did the chicken cross the road?” becomes an existential one… “WHY did the chicken cross the road?  WHY!?!”  Just swerve, brake, and pray that you don’t end up with a chicken stuck in your wheel spokes.  If you do, pay the owner, bring it home, and cook it for dinner (you probably need some protein to go with your rice anyway).

-          If you are from the Southwest, learn to make tortillas and make sure you have Mexican spice in the pantry.  You will miss Mexican food, but it is easy to make yourself.

-          Milo is WAAAAY better than chocolate milk (it’s chocolate malt and it’s delicious).  Try it hot or cold or in a milkshake… yummm…

-          Brewed coffee is a million times better than instant.  Buy a French press.  Do not break it (if you do, blame it on the intern… if you are the intern, you had to screw something up eventually).

-          If you want to get any work done hire a housekeeper (also known as a “houselady” or “house manager” depending on which end of the scale of political correctness you are on).  It takes all day to make beans and do laundry.  Your housekeeper will become your favorite person… treat her well.

-          It is possible to stay clean in the bush (despite what your city friends might think).  Bathe daily and buy a pumice stone for your feet.  Your awesome housekeeper will keep your clothes clean and boil you some water for bathing, so this is another reason why she will be your favorite person.

-          Make sure to iron all clothes that have been dried on the line (or wait at least three days to wear them).  Mango flies like to lay their eggs in damp clothing and you REALLY don’t want the larvae burrowing into your skin.  The heat from the iron will kill the eggs.

-          Ground nuts do not taste the same as peanuts.  They are still pretty good, and best if roasted, but NOT peanuts. (Addendum: I now believe that roasted groundnuts are superior to peanuts… but I may have just forgotten what peanuts taste like)

-          If you are going to travel to Africa, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE be sure to learn how to hand wash your own clothing before you go.  Honestly, it’s just embarrassing that all my Zambian friends are shocked that I know how to do my own laundry, since every other American they’ve met cannot put soap and water in a bucket and scrub their clothes).

-          Try not to end up with an accidental Zambian boyfriend.  Zambian men are flirtatious and apparently only joking 99% of the time.  That 1% of the time you think they’re joking and they aren’t can be a little bit complicated.  Coming home with a Zambian boyfriend on purpose is a whole different story (I have no problem with this).  This is important because even if you didn’t know you had a Zambian boyfriend, he will still get jealous and butt-hurt if you talk to other men  (which is generally the clue that you ended up with an accidental boyfriend).  So complicated….

-          Men can be surprisingly good personal shoppers.  When shopkeepers see a person who looks a little lost and like they might have money wandering around a cramped market, they will hunt down EXACTLY what you are looking for – even if they have to search the whole market and bring you 10 different things to look at – just to make a sale.  Once you’ve found what you wanted they will continue to find you 20 other versions of the same thing (t-shirts, shoes… whatever could remotely fall into the category of what you were searching for earlier) because if you wanted one pair of sandals, then you must want five pairs of sandals.  Take that coveted item you were looking for and beat it, quickly… before the shopping trip starts to build momentum and you create a frenzy of people all over the market bringing you yet another pair of black shoes.

Reading list from my summer in Zambia:

Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

A coming of age story about a young girl from a wealthy Nigerian family.  It is the story of a family lead by an abusive, ultra-religious patriarch, and a country in a time of political instability.

Human Cargo by Caroline Moorehead

A documentary of the refugee experience all over the world.  It is an account of Moorehead’s personal interviews and travels across the globe – a re-telling of personal stories of refugees.

The Road to Hell: The Ravaging Effects of Foreign Aid and International Charity by Michael Maren

A discussion of the negative effects of development and relief work.  A personal account and reflections on the author’s first-hand experience in the field of humanitarian assistance.

Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

A witty memoir.  I had to read something light to balance out the emotional intensity of my other selections.

The Shack by William P. Young

A fictional account of one man’s encounter with the Trinity.  An interesting illustration of the relationship between God, the Holy Spirit, Jesus, and mankind.  A story that makes the spiritual personal… a story of an authentic relationship with God.

Demon in The Freezer by Richard Preston

A great read for infectious disease nerds.  A story of infectious disease research, government labs, and bioterrorism.

Where There Is No Doctor published by the Hesperian Foundation

An inclusive instruction manual for village health.  A guide for health in rural areas of the developing world.

Nutrition: Concepts and Controversies by Frances Sienkiewicz Sizer and Eleanor Noss Whitney

A university-level nutrition textbook.  Necessary reading as I was updating our nutrition curriculum.

The Bible

Self-explanatory.  Not that I read the WHOLE thing, but bits and pieces (including the books of Daniel and Hosea and Psalm 105 especially).  I even read parts of the New Testament in French to help in my language studies. J

Sarah’s Key by Tatiana de Rosnay

Two stories intertwined.  One of a ten year old Jewish girl in France during the Nazi occupation.  The other, the story of an American journalist living in modern-day France who stumbles upon a family secret that links her to this young girl from many years ago.

The Best Women’s Travel Writing 2009 edited by Lucy McCauley

and

The Best Women’s Travel Writing 2010 edited by Stephania Elizondo Griest

Short stories of women’s travels all over the world.  Accounts of personal experiences of women who have gone out into the world with a bold and adventurous spirit.

The Blue Sweater by Jaqueline Novogratz

A personal memoir of one woman’s journey of personal discovery and global influence through international development work in microfinance.  The story of the maturing of a young idealist whose vision could not be squashed.

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriele Garcia Marquez

An excellent piece of literature about the reunion of a woman with her suitor from fifty years before after the death of her husband.

Hot, Flat, and Crowded by Thomas L. Friedman

An absolute must-read.  Seriously… everyone (American or not) needs to read this book.  The author describes the global crisis that we are at the cusp of and how America can redeem itself (its prosperity, its global reputation and leadership, and make up for the mistakes of the last 30 years of arrogance and complacency) by once again becoming a nation of innovators and leaders in solving world problems.  Oh how I wish every person I met in Zambia that exclaimed “America!  It’s such a wonderful country.  It’s such a great place…” would read this book and understand my frustrations with my homeland and why this crazy American doesn’t want to stay put in the “greatest nation in the world”.

La Dolce Vita

Day 2 in Italy

I arrived in Rome yesterday... very tired after only sleeping an hour on my overnight flight from Zambia.  How strange to suddenly be back in a world of efficiency.  The airport actually made sense and I could follow the signs and not get lost.  I caught the Leonardo Express train into Rome and laughed to myself as the train left at 7:07am on the dot and arrived EXACTLY 30 minutes later.  Ahhh... timetables that are actually adhered to.  As I sat on the train, my heart began to race with excitement.  A new city, a new country to explore.  I love travelling.  I love the rush of a new experience.  But, despite my excitement and wonder at it all, Europe doesn't have the same feeling of "home" that I feel the minute I see sub-Saharan Africa.

Finding a hostel was quite an adventure.  I walked around Rome for two hours with a 25kg backpack in the summer heat looking for addresses and hostels that did not appear to exist.  I finally hopped on the metro in an effort to find Rome City Hostel.  I prayed feverishly that the place existed.  I decided that even if it did not, or was booked, I would book a room in the nearest hotel... no matter the cost.  To my extreme relief, Rome City Hostel not only exists, but they even had one bed left for me!!  What luck!

After a shower - a REAL shower... with lots of water pressure... what a wonderful experience - I ventured out into the city for a day of sight-seeing.  I felt pretty chic in my new black top and sandals I found in Lusaka and stopped at a sidewalk stand for a pick-pocket-proof purse.  Along the way, I also found an adorable hat to fend off the summer sun.  After walking around Rome for over 10 hours, I felt decidedly less chic.  I saw the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Roman Forum, the Colliseum and countless other beautiful specimens of Roman architecture.  I ran errands along the way, winding through narrow cobbled streets, and purchased a new ipod to replace the one that has been misplaced in my travels and a Vodafone SIM card to use in Europe.  The day was sprinkled with many delightful tastebud experiences.  I started the morning with a cappuchino and chocolate croissant at the train station, cooled off with fresh strawberry gelato as I began to explore Rome, grabbed a slice of what is (according to my Lonely Planet guidebook) some of the best and most inexpensive pizza in Rome (it did not disappoint in the least), and ended the day with a cup of gazpacho, a glass of some incredible wine and crusty bread dipped in the best olive oil I've ever had in my life.  After this grand adventure.... I could barely walk.  I don't know how these Italian women do it.  I see them walking around in short skirts and very high heels and they do it with such ease.  By the end of the day, I was hot, sweaty, my feet felt like they were on fire, and my legs burned with fatigue.  Italy is enough to give a woman an inferiority complex.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Day 68 in Zambia

"All my bags are packed / I'm ready to go... Leaving on a jet plane / don't know when I'll be back again... oh, I hate to go"

Okay... so my bags aren't really packed (hey, I'll get to it eventually) and I'm pretty sure I'll be back again in approximately one year, but the song still seemed appropriate.

So many mixed feelings.  I had kind of an emotional day.  I thought for a moment that maybe I was homesick.  Walking around here in Lusaka, I was beginning to feel so frustrated.  I hate how I feel like such an outsider here.  It's not that people treat me poorly or are mean... it's just that they treat me differently.  I feel so... white.  The taxi driver that lives nearby treats me like this delicate flower that can't handle the exposure to the elements in Africa.  He thinks that I should take a taxi everywhere and stay out of the dust and sun and that I want to shop at the nice (expensive) stores where all the other white people are usually found.  If I look obviously Western, I get laughed at for being different.  If I try to fit in, I get laughed at for being the white lady trying to be an African.  Everywhere I go, I can't escape attention... sticking out like a sore thumb.  People stare and men call out to me (admiring me, my Zambian friends say).  Sometimes I feel like the Great White Freak, when all I want to do is be normal.  Even my friends at the house made a big deal this morning that this American girl knows how to do her own washing.  But, for the most part, being with friends is like having a refuge from all of this.  When  you're with friends, you're just people.  We talk, we hang out... everything is just normal and it feels comfortable... I don't feel so self-conscious.  As I was walking back to the house, nearly in tears after dealing with this all day, I suddenly realized that it wasn't home that I missed.  Even in the States, I don't feel entirely like I fit in.  I still feel out of place.  But, I miss Meheba.  I found myself longing to just sit with my friend and her children in her living room... to get a hug and tell her all about what I was feeling... knowing that she'd somehow understand.  As much as I love it here, I wonder if I will ever really be able to belong... a mzungu in Africa.  I think maybe I'm just not cut out for Lusaka... a big, impersonal city.  For the first time, I really feel like I'm in a foreign country... a little lost.

It definitely hasn't been easy.  It's difficult being in a foreign country and just dealing with the emotions that go with being in an unfamiliar place and adjusting to a different culture.  Then there are the more practical/tangible difficulties.  I had that bout of flu in Meheba.  Then, just before leaving, I hurt my back somehow and have been feeling like a 90 year old woman.  Two days ago I got conjuctivitis (an eye infection... probably from the dust and wind blowing bacteria into my eye) and woke up to my eye so crusted over that I couldn't open it at first and it was horribly swollen (meaning I felt like I was horribly disfigured).  Luckily, there aren't all those pesky rules and regulations that we have in the States and I can get anything I need to treat myself at a local pharmacy (well, when I'm in a town with a local pharmacy, anyway).  I was able to get some antibiotic eye drops without seeing a doctor first.  I just walked into the store, told the guy what I needed and for the equivalent of $1 USD (yes, that's right folks... for one fifth of what just a co-pay would be to get a generic prescription in the States).  There are many practical advantages to studying health... I feel pretty confident treating myself (and even other people) for relatively minor issues and that comes in handy when  you're in a country where there is only one doctor for every 20,000 people.

And now, I have my last night in Zambia.  It's really crazy to think that my time here has come to an end.  I have a feeling that it will feel very weird to be back home, but I'm looking forward to Italy, and coming home to my family and friends, seeing everyone at the family picnic, going to Bay Church, and visiting the house up in Tahoe.  Oh and my bed... I am looking forward to sleeping in my incredibly comfortable bed.  And the chiropractor... definitely looking forward to getting my back fixed.  Eh, I guess it's not so bad.  There's plenty to keep me busy for a little bit at least and the year will just fly by.  I'll be back in Africa, missing my family and my bed, before I know it. :)

Holiday... continued

Day 66 in Zambia

Back in Lusaka after an incredible holiday.  My trip to Livingstone turned out to be better than I ever could have imagined.  In addition to the awesomeness of Victoria Falls, I had a crazy number of chance encounters.  The first surprise was that I ran into someone I knew at the backpackers... a guy I met in Meheba who is a Harvard researcher who has been in Zambia was not only in Livingstone at the same time as me, but staying at the same place... in the same room!  I also ran into the guy that I met on the plane here at the beginning of the summer who was on his way to Malawi for his summer internship at the backpackers as well.  And the best chance meeting ever was a gentleman who has recently started an NGO and was here with his biggest donor working on their first project.  They are from California, based in the East Bay and were interested in my background and keeping in touch.  So please help me pray that this leads to a job opportunity back in Zambia at the end of this school year.  It seemed promising anyway :)

Today I got to just hang out with some friends here in Lusaka.  It was so great.  We went to the Sunday Market and they played tourist with me as I shopped for some souvenirs.  We had lunch in a local restaurant and as we joked and laughed, I felt for a minute like we were a group of young Americans having lunch at a local diner... haha.  No matter where you go, no matter how different things seem to be... really everything is just the same.  There's not much difference between hanging out with a group of young college students in the States or in Lusaka, Zambia.

Holiday

Day 65 in Zambia

The past couple days have been absolutely INCREDIBLE!!  I decided to take a quick holiday down to Livingstone and Victoria Falls before I left Zambia.  You can't come all this way without seeing one of the most amazing things nature has to offer.  I arrived in Livingstone Thursday evening and caught a taxi to Jollyboys Backpackers.  This place is awesome.  SUPER cheap rates to stay in a dorm, a great vibe, and plenty of other young travellers from all over the world to meet.  I ended up on a sunset "booze cruise" on the Zambezi River where I met an Aussie staying at Jollyboys as well and two American college students.  The views from the boat were great.  As the sun set, we kept our eyes peeled to spot crocodiles and monitor lizards basking in the final rays of sunlight on the shore, and hippos hiding in the bush and grass that spilled out into the river.  When we were done, we called up my new Zambian friend who was my taxi driver earlier in the day and he took us out to the local spots for some chill nightlife.

I woke up the next morning eager to get out to the falls.  I crossed over the border to Zimbabwe with a small group of people I met at Jollyboys.  I can't even begin to describe just how breathtaking the views of Victoria Falls are.  I walked stone paths through the rainforest that follows the faultline of the falls.  The power of these huge sheets of water falling from such great highs is unreal.  Mist rises up as the water hits the river below, giving them their local name "Mosi-oa-Tunya" - "the smoke that thunders".  In the moments where I was following the trail alone, with other tourists far enough in front or behind me to make me feel as though I had the rainforest all to myself, the beauty was overwhelming.  I wanted to take pictures of everything - to document it all to share with everyone back home - but I found pictures to be disappointing.  I just couldn't capture what I was experiencing on film and I finally came to a point where I had to put my camera away and just bask in the feeling of extreme joy and amazement that had taken over me.  It's so awesome that the simple beauty of nature can bring someone to tears.

I then walked up to the Victoria Falls Hotel... a beautiful, but equally ridiculous ghost of colonial Africa.  The hotel is absolutely beautiful and is like going through a time warp.  Now the funny thing is, after living in the bush for two months, I was thinking about what I was most looking forward to when getting back to the States.  Other than being with my friends and family again, what I really wanted were three things: a nicoise salad, a pedicure, and massage.  Lo and behold... all three things were available at the hotel.  Don't worry, Mom... I still have to come home to see you and finish school... but other than that, there's absolutely no reason to ever leave Africa.  Haha...

Almost out of time on the internet... gtg.

Lusaka... take two

Day 61 in Zambia

It may be that Zambian superstitions are starting to take hold on  me, but I was concerned this morning when the bus left without the preacher coming on board to bless the bus and try to save as many souls as he could before we left for Lusaka.  It is common practice to pray before the journey because the only reason buses arrive safely at their destination is by the grace of God.  So this morning we had to suffice with a short prayer by a woman on the bus… and now I’m sitting at the roadside two hours into my journey waiting for a bus to come to pick up the passengers from our bus that has broken down.  I really don’t know when the other bus might come… it could be an hour…. It could be several.  I’m contemplating forfeiting my fare and trying to see if my luggage and I can get a hitch from a passing vehicle.  It’s worth a shot.

Day 62 in Zambia

So I didn’t have to hitch to Lusaka after all.  After about an hour and a half, another bus came to pick up the stranded passengers.  Thirteen-and-a-half hours after leaving Solwezi, I was finally in Lusaka.  This trip should normally take about 10 hours I think.  I was exhausted by the time I arrived and very grateful to see a familiar face to pick me up since it was after dark and I was too tired to not be annoyed by the taxi drivers and people trying to carry my luggage that swarm the buses as they arrive.  And, lucky for me, the neighbor of the students I’m staying with is a taxi driver, so I have a personal escort while I’m here.  Which is good, because Lusaka is huge and busy and I would get totally lost without him. 

After spending the day running errands in the “big city” and finishing up a report for UNHCR I get to take a quick holiday.  I’m heading down to Livingstone to see Victoria Falls for a couple days before coming back up to Lusaka to wrap up my internship and say goodbye to my Lusaka friends.  I can’t believe time is passing by so quickly.  It will be so weird to be back in the States.  When I watch movies set in America it looks like people are driving on the wrong side of the road now… lol.  Most of my friends here laugh at me because I’m not a normal American in Africa.  They joke that I am really Zambian.  To their surprise and amusement, I eat and know how to make nshima, greet people in local languages, wear chitenge, and understand a surprising amount of how things work here (both the formal systems and informal cultural norms).  I know the appropriate things to joke about… a good laugh is always the easiest way to work your way into the heart of anyone you meet.  As sad as I am to leave, I’m excited about seeing Italy and experiencing a new culture.  I think that this departure isn’t so traumatic because I’m confident that I will be back very soon.  I guess I’m living up to my superlative awarded on my trip to Tanzania… “most likely to return to Africa”… again and again and again…

Saying Goodbye

Day 53 in Zambia

Best birthday ever!!!  What a fabulous weekend.  I went into Solwezi on the canter truck Friday morning and spent the night with friends.  My Solwezi experience is now complete, finally having gone to the two popular nightclubs.  It was so much fun.  We stayed out dancing until 4am.  By the end of the night, I had two “boyfriends” (and a “girlfriend”) fighting over dancing with me, plus a marriage proposal. J  Ahh, the curse of being a white woman in Africa.  You definitely don’t lack for attention.  Hehe.  The night of my birthday was spent with friends around a bonfire, eating kudu poikie (a stew with game meat) and the most amazing chocolate birthday cake.  I even got to see Mutanda Falls.  Not too shabby for spending my birthday so far from home. 

And now, I begin my last week in Meheba.  I can’t believe the time has passed so quickly.  With all the work I need to get done, this week is going to FLY by. 

Day 58 in Zambia

Fabulous day in Meheba.  It was the Grassroots Soccer VCT tournament today.  GRS does HIV education through a soccer league here in Meheba.  After ten practices that include games and activities to illustrate important prevention messages, the players “graduate” from the program.  All of the Meheba teams competed in a big tournament at the soccer pitch at the High School and it was a big event with music and dancing and HIV testing.  A lot of the FORGE staff are also involved as volunteers with this program so it was great to spend the day with them and a lot of the other people I know in the Meheba community.  The tournament was great to watch. 

It was a little bit of a bittersweet day for me.  While I had a blast, it’s also finally sinking in that I will be leaving Monday morning.  Today was my last day to see the FHS staff person that I have been working closely with for the last two months.  I must have given him four big hugs and was holding back tears as we said our final goodbyes.  Tomorrow I am going across the road to spend some time saying goodbye to the FHS coordinator and her family that has become like a second family for me.  I am nearly done making the rag doll for her little girl that attaches herself to me like Velcro now. 

I don’t even know how to describe how I’ve been feeling all day.  I’m so tired by the time I actually sit down at my computer to write and I feel like most of my entries are half-hearted.  I don’t know how to put into words all of my thoughts and experiences.  All the little stories that I try to file away in my memory throughout the day, never quite seem to make it here.  Sometimes I just want to enjoy living life and not worry about chronicling it.  It’s great experiencing it, but by the end of the day I’m just too tried to put much effort into writing it all down.  I could tell stories about my embarrassing moment with the new refugee officer or the guy that insists that I am his future wife.  I could write down incredibly insightful dissertations on issues I’ve encountered and learned about while working in a refugee settlement.  But, instead I just smile, remember the way I feel riding my bike down the main road just before sunset, and fall asleep happy.

Day 60 in Zambia

This morning I made my final trip on the canter truck into Solwezi (for this visit to Zambia anyway).  I have been so emotional the past couple days as it really hit me that I was leaving.  In two short months I had become so attached to Meheba – to my friends, my FORGE colleagues, and my community.  I spent a long time across the road visiting with the FHS coordinator yesterday… the woman that quickly became my best friend in Meheba (probably my best friend in the entire continent of Africa).  We sat in her living room with three of her other female family members – an aunt, sister, and sister-in-law – a family that has welcomed me with open arms and now call me one of their own.  I finished sewing a rag doll for her youngest daughter as we sat and talked and I shared with them my revelation from the previous night.  While reading the book African Friends and Money Matters I realized one of the primary reasons I feel so much more comfortable in African societies than my own Western society – Africans spend nearly all their time with other people.  In the States, people often need their own space… their privacy.  Being alone drives me absolutely mad.  Earlier in the day I was alone at the compound while everyone else was out in the settlement on the bikes and I finally couldn’t take it anymore and decided to bring my work with me across the road.  In Africa it is uncommon to be alone… people that like to be alone a lot are considered strange.  There is absolutely no such thing as personal space… and I love it.  I love the sense of community.  I love sitting with other women, passing babies around while children run around in the background.  Friends quickly become family and with that, so does their entire extended “family” – which may or may not have actual blood ties.  In just eight weeks I have become a “sister”, “auntie”, “play mother”, “daughter”, and (jokingly… I think) future “wife” and “sister-in-law”.  Family ties, while loosely defined, are tight.  Once you are accepted into a social circle you become part of an organic network of people living together, sharing in the happiness and sorrow of life, helping each other and sharing with each other in whatever way you can.  I am so honored to have been accepted into this society, even as an outsider.  Common human values and principles do a lot to link people from very different worlds.  In the feedback I’ve gotten from friends here, my willingness to immerse myself in the community and friendly demeanor have gone a long way for changing from an outsider to a friend in a short time.  We are often connected by a common faith, value system, and basic likes and dislikes.  Anywhere you go, you find a common thread in humanity, and the differences just make for an interesting experience if you include an open mind and open ears in your interactions.

After her relatives left and the doll was complete, the waterworks started flowing as my friend and I talked about our time together.  I was fighting back the lump in my throat as she dabbed her glistening eyes with her chitenge.  We went outside and made a game out of taking pictures with the children (her own, her neighbor’s (another friend I made), and even a few more neighborhood kids that wanted to join the fun).  Cranky as naptime was approaching and understanding – with a level of perception well past her two-and-a-half years – that this visit was my last for a long time her daughter began to fuss and cry.  We came inside and I rocked her until her crocodile tears turned into whimpers and she finally fell asleep.  It’s actually kind of funny that during my first visit she burst into tears because she was terrified of the new chindele, but in my last visit she was crying because she didn’t want her new friend to leave.  That little girl has become physically attached to me like Velcro (although literally attached to my back by chitenge usually… lol) and her mother jokes that I am a second mother to both her and her new baby brother.  As I finally pried myself away from the little house that I have spent more waking moments in than in the FORGE house I finally broke down as I walked across the road back to the compound.  That was by far the hardest goodbye.

And now, the adventure continues.  I am spending the day in Solwezi running errands and enjoying my last day in this dusty little mining town that has become so familiar.  Tomorrow I will head to Lusaka on an early bus and then take a bus to Livingstone the following day.  I’m going to take a quick holiday to explore Livingstone and Victoria Falls before returning to Lusaka to wrap up my internship, meeting with Zambian health professionals and touring the medical school.  Then it’s off to Italy to reacclimate to the Western world before heading home.  As much as I miss my friends and family in the U.S., I’m really hooked on travelling and I honestly like the idea of spending most of my time away from the land where I spent the whole beginning of my life.  There’s some rush you get when being thrown into new situations, new cultures… like an adrenaline rush from being someplace totally unfamiliar.