Kim in Zambia

It’s Not Always Easy Being A Rock Star

2006-02-15T05:38:00.000-08:00

In most areas of Zambia (even in some parts of the capital city) being white is still a big deal and being one of the few white people in our area it’s hard not to develop a bit of a rock star complex. Every where we go people are watching us and talking about us. Everybody always wants to know all of your business, even things that don’t pertain to them. And you are constantly being asked for things. Children’s reaction to our presence always makes me laugh, they either stare at you transfixed, run away crying or get really excited and coming running at us yelling greetings and waving (somehow the kids in Kawambwa that don’t speak English have learnt how to say ‘how are you’ and will ask you again and again and again even after you’re answered them, leading me to believe that they don’t actually know what they are asking you or that it’s even a question). Living in a larger community and working alongside educated people we are able to maintain a small sense of privacy, but for our friends in the Peace Corps it’s nearly impossible. They live in small villages and from what they tell me at times it can be quite hard for them. People are constantly stopping by their homes to talk or ask for things and the kids in the village, though adorable and fun to play with, are ALWAYS around. The villagers even go through their garbage and take anything that can be salvaged. For instance they will take empty plastic sugar bags and make them into purses or wear grocery bags as hats. My friends even have to burn their grocery receipts from when they stock up on food in the bigger towns. If they don’t people will find them, read what they bought and come around asking for it. The funniest thing I’ve heard is that the neighbors of one of my friends cut out a section of the bush that is between their houses so that they have a clear view from their house into his and whenever he looks outside they are watching him.
Though we don’t live like rock stars, being treated in a similar way has given me a little insight into what they go through and I can’t help but sympathize with them. Now when I see photos of celebrities doing 'normal' things, such as grocery shopping, I think, just leave them alone! Their total lack of privacy explains why they act out sometimes. I feel bad, but sometimes I can’t help but act hostile and rude when people bother me at a bad time.
A lot of the time I really wish I could just blend in. Obviously this isn’t possible, which is why I think I’m drawn to hanging out with other Mzungu’s. They know what it’s like to be constantly watched and they treat me like anyone else, which is a nice change.
One things for sure, it’s going to be weird going back to Canada where I’m just another person walking down the street.

Kawambwa enters the 21st century with the arrival of Celtel

2006-02-01T06:42:00.000-08:00

In mid November Celtel, one of the two cell phone network providers in Zambia, started to build a tower in Kawambwa. In a town with nothing above one story the 40 meter high tower has become quite a prominent structure. During its construction I’m not sure safety standards were met. At times while leaving the UN complex I would look up at the tower and see a worker very high up with only a thin rope holding him. Surprisingly enough the tower shot up in record time, even by North American standards (which is lightening speed by Zambian standards) and by the end of the month all anyone could talk about was when the network would be switched on. Rumors of random start dates began circulating, my favourite being that the president of Zambia was coming to little Kawambwa to campaign for the upcoming elections and that he would be the one to flick the switch. But his rumoured dates of arrival kept on coming and going with no sign of network. After dealing with unreliable phone connections with our landline for 5 months, it was quite frustrating that the completed tower was just standing unused.
For the month of December all anyone could talk about were cell phones. And everyone that heard I was going to Tanzania for holidays asked me to buy them a phone while I was there (apparently they are cheaper in Tanzania). People that owned phones were constantly fiddling with them and it was funny watching people turn their phones on periodically during the day to check if the network had been switched on.
Upon my return from holidays I bought a phone for the project thinking that there was no way Kawambwa still didn’t have network, unfortunately I was wrong. However now when people told you the date when the network would be switched on they also included the exact time. This dates and times also came and went. But Wednesday, January 11th, 2006 at 18 hours the switch was flicked and Kawambwa began talking. Since I wasn’t checking every hour like everyone else I didn’t realize this until the following morning but it was still very exciting. That morning I was attending a seminar at the UN and the minute I walked into the room and saw everyone with their phones I knew that Celtel was going to change the face of Kawambwa. At home you take it for granted that everyone has landlines but here most people don’t. Before Celtel in order to talk to someone you had to walk around trying to find them. Now with everyone having cell phone you can effortlessly reach anyone at anytime, how convenient. That is as long as they are within a 15 km radius of Kawambwa or in the radius of the signal from another tower. Unfortunately the camp is 30 km away from Kawambwa so we lose network halfway there, oh well nothing is perfect.
I’m sure this isn’t that exciting for you but being here to witness how technology that I had taken for granted has affected Kawambwa has made me appreciate the little things we have at home that make our lives that much easier. If at anytime you feel like calling me here (I’m 7 hours ahead of Toronto) my cell phone number is 01126097506058.
Take care,
Kim

The Highest and Lowest Points in Africa

2006-01-11T02:33:00.000-08:00

Having been told that taking the train from Zambia to Tanzania was one of the few ‘things you must do’ while in Zambia I decided that that would be the ideal way to start my Christmas vacation in Tanzania. To avoid spending the 48 hour journey crammed into a compartment like sardines with crying vomiting babies on our laps my friend Drew Gardiner (a RTP project coordinator at the other refugee camp in Zambia) and I booked an entire 1st class compartment to ourselves. Now that may sound pretty fancy but it really wasn’t. The only difference between the 1st and 2nd class compartments are the amount of people they seat, with 1st class compartments seating 4 and 2nd class compartments seating 6. In our compartment each wall had two beds and the lower beds served as benches during the day. Since Drew and I were only two we didn’t have to share our benches during the day and being able to stretch out was well worth the extra cost. The ride was not very smooth with the train was constantly stopping for no apparent reason. This would have been okay if the driver had been taught to ease on the brakes; instead we were jolted forward with every abrupt stop. We stopped so frequently and for such extended periods of time (once we had to stop for 4 hours because there were no tracks ahead of us) that I stopped noticing whether we were moving or not. We had some Peace Corps friends on the same train and we passed the time wandering around, hanging out in our compartments, playing cards in the dining car, and having drinks in the lounge. I even managed to lose some money playing poker. When we crossed the border from Zambia into Tanzania there was an immediate change in the landscape. We were suddenly surrounded by rolling hills, darker soils, greener more lush vegetation and sturdier village homes. It was as though this was all placed at the border to immediately contrast the flat dry lands of Zambia and flaunt the beauty of the country. I love Zambia but couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of Tanzania and imagine what it would have been like if I had been placed there.
A few hours before arriving in Dar es Saleem we rode through a national game reserve. I was very excited at the prospect of seeing herds of animals, specifically elephants and giraffes. However as more and more time passed without seeing anything I decided that I would be happy with seeing a single giraffe or elephant. I scanned the land desperately trying to see something besides impala and monkeys, but alas there was nothing. I even recruited the help of the little girls in the compartment next to us who had already seen 25 giraffes. As I began to lose hope I decided to visit the WC. Afterwards I returned to find the girls in our compartment with a look of excitement in their eyes. This is the conversation that followed:
The Girls: Did you see them?
Me: No, what?
The Girls: The herd of 25 giraffes right on the side of the tracks! Mommies, babies, everything!
Me: No, I did not. So you girls have seen 55 giraffes now?
The Girls: Actually 57.
Me: Lucky you.
I was not impressed to say the least, but Drew and everyone else found it quite funny. Drew wasn’t even able to take a photo of it for me because he couldn’t turn my camera on. Six hours behind schedule we arrived in Dar es Saleem and our train ride came to an end. I’m not sure if I would list the ride as a ‘must do’, but if you are traveling the distance anyways it’s a pretty fun way to travel.
In Dar we spent the night at the Right To Play house, which is a palace in comparison to the house in Lusaka and the next day bubbling over with excitement I picked my brother Scott up from the airport.
Tanzania is a very appealing tourist destination. People go to Tanzania to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, go on a safari, visit Zanzibar and then they leave. They have a great time, see come pretty spectacular sights and the superficial beauty of the country, but they don’t get to experience the ‘true Africa’. I feel that you don’t really get a feel for the culture and the real beauty of a place unless you spend time away from the tourist sights, which is why I consider myself to be so lucky to be living here. Ideally I would have liked Scott to come visit me at my home in Zambia, meet the locals, see the camp and really get a feel for where I am and what I’m doing. But since he had a limited amount of time off school and this was his first time to the continent we chose to stick to the tourist sites (which don’t get me wrong, are well worth seeing). Our first destination was Mount Kilimanjaro.
Mount Kilimanjaro (5895 meters above sea level) is the highest point in Africa, the world’s highest free-standing mountain and one of world’s largest volcanoes. There are several routes that you can take up the mountain, and due to our lack of experience we chose to take the Marangu route, which is the most popular because it is the least technically difficult, but it has the lowest success rate of reaching the summit. December 21st we started our climb. To enter the park you are required to have a guide and porters (minimum of two per person), so between the two of us we had one guide and 4 porters (which I found a bit ridiculous). It’s amazing how much weight the porters carry. They would pass us on the trail, carrying our packs (max 15 kg) and all our food on their heads and backs. All we had to carry were our day packs. On the first day we hiked through lush, dense rain forest and when we emerged at our huts (you stay in little wooden huts all along the way) we were above the clouds (2700m). On the second day the vegetation changed dramatically. The dense forest was replaced by moorlands. There were small dry scrubs everywhere and every once and a while a bright flower. There were also these small trees that resembled pineapple cacti that I loved. We spent that night in huts at 3700 m. We spent the third day acclimatizing to the altitude by hiking up 500 meters and then descending to spend the night in the same huts as the night before. On the fourth day we hiked through alpine desert to huts at 4750 m. There was volcanic rock everywhere and it felt like we were on Mars (or at least what I imagine Mars to be like). I have to admit that the climb up until this point had not been difficult at all. Each day we would ascend around 1000 meters over the course of approximately 4 hours on a path that was in good condition. Since the climbing was not difficult we were inclined to walk at our normal fast ‘Bremer pace’, but to allow your body to acclimatize adequately as you ascend it is very important to walk slowly, (pole pole in Swahili). To keep myself hiking at the right pace I always made the guide walk in front of me and although at times I was right on his heels or feeling like we weren’t moving it paid off in the end. The fifth day (December 25th) was summit day and at 12 am, dressed in all of the clothes I brought we set out for the summit. In darkness, for 4 hours we did switchbacks up the scree at a snails pace. I can honestly say that I have never done anything more mentally challenging before in my life, it took everything I had for me to put one foot in front of the other. I’m glad that we did the final ascend in the dark because seeing how far you had to go would be so demoralizing. Being at 5000 + meters it’s hard to explain how the altitude affects you. Scott said that he felt like he was really drunk. He couldn’t walk straight and kept wanting to sit down and close his eyes. Halfway to the summit our guide took his hand and pulled him the rest of the way up. The altitude didn’t affect me that adversely, and apart from feeling mentally and physically exhausted I was okay. At 4:15 am we reached Gilman’s Point (5681 meters above sea level) where you are suppose to watch the sunrise. Looking down and seeing all of the headlamps zigzagging up the mountain after us was pretty cool. Since we still had an hour and three quarters before sunrise and I couldn’t feel my hands (it was around -10 °C) we decided to continue for the summit. We had been told that in comparison to what we had just climbed this part was easy and I envisioned a leisurely walk around the rim of the crater, but for me those last two hours (210 vertical meters) to Uhuru’s Peak were the worst. The incline was gradual incline but I had no energy. We were almost at the summit when the sun started to rise and it was one of the most spectacular sights that I have ever seen. On one side was the steep drop into the crater and on the other was the glacier covered outer slopes of the dome. At 6:12 am we reached Uhuru’s Peak, making us the second group to reach the summit that day. The colour of the sky and its reflection on the glaciers, as well as my sense of accomplishment put me on the verge of tears. Unfortunately possibly due to the altitude or just sheer exhaustion you aren’t thinking clearly and as soon as you reach the summit all you want to do it go back down. I was able to take some photos and revel at my success a little bit but looking back on it now I wish I had stayed up there longer, because it’s not as clear a memory as it could be. On our descent we passed friends that were still ascending. Seeing how they were affected by the altitude made me realize how lucky I had been that my body had able to deal with the altitude. Everyone we passed looked completely out of it. Most people had vomited at least twice, couldn’t walk straight, and were thinking irrationally. After vomiting and trying to fall asleep during the ascent, one of my friends lay down as soon as she reached the summit and fell asleep. She has no recollection of being at the summit. Another friend had to turn back before reaching Uhuru’s Peak because she was completely disoriented and irrational. The idea of falling and rolling down the steep crater didn’t phase her at all. In comparison to our slow 6 hour ascend, our descend took no time at all. At the expense of knees we were able to ski/slide down the scree in just over an hour. Then after a short rest in the huts we continued down another 1000 meters in the hail. The next day we descended the remaining 1720 meters in the rain. It was unfortunate that the weather was bad for most of our descent but for our entire ascent the weather had been ideal, especially on our summit day, so we couldn’t complain. I felt so bad for those people that we passed who were on their way up, because their gear probably wouldn’t dry. At the base of the mountain with blistered feet and sore joints we had a celebratory Kilimanjaro beer.
The next day Scott and I flew to Zanzibar and our cruising altitude was just above that of Mt. Kilimanjaro, amazing. Zanzibar is an island just off the coast of Tanzania and as the lonely planet says ‘step from the mainland onto Zanzibar Island, and you’ll find yourself instantly transported thousands of miles – to an ancient kingdom of Persia, to Oman of bygone days with its caliphs and sultans, to the west coast of India, with it sensual rhythms and heavily laden scents.’ Zanzibar was the ideal place to relax after climbing. The main population center and commercial hub is Zanzibar Town with Old Stone Town in the center. We really enjoyed the feel of Stone Town and spent several days getting lost in its labyrinthine alleyways admiring architecture. At night we would go Forodhani Gardens where people would set up tables laden with skewers of fresh fish that they would fry up for you for under a dollar. You could also get fresh sugar cane juice (the most refreshing drink ever! ), chapattis, chips, fried banana’s, ginger tea and Zanzibar pizzas (which are more like crepes than pizzas, my favourite being the chocolate banana pizza, which was to die for). Scott fell in love with the fresh juice and after spending a semester in London he couldn’t believe our cheap and delicious they were. He and the juice man developed a special relationship and Scott stopped by for a juice several times a day. We also went on a spice tour, where we visited plantations and were able to see and taste a variety of different spices including vanilla, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, black pepper, nutmeg, and lemongrass.
After meeting up with Drew, Kevin and some other RTP friends in Stone Town we all headed up to Nungwi on the northernmost tip of Zanzibar for New Years. Zanzibar has some amazing beaches with white sand and turquoise water, and although Nungwi is not the most beautiful of them it was definitely the place to be. There were several groups of Peace Corps volunteers from Zambia there which always guarantees a good time, and we spent our days on the beach and our nights at the bars which lined the beach. For New Years Eve we had a fish fry at a nearby beach (lucky me got to spend over 2 hours prepping and cooking the fish, though it was worth it) and then danced the night away at a bar on the beach, getting home just in time to see the sunrise.
New Years day we piled ourselves into a minibus and drove back to Stone Town, where we spent the day wandering around hungover. Then sadly our vacation began to near its end. The next day we boarded the ferry back to Dar es Saleem and the following day went our separate ways, with me on a 24 hour bus back to Lusaka (this time when we drove through the national game reserve I saw zebra, giraffe, and elephants!) and Scott on a plane to London.
After such an amazing vacation being surrounded by good friends, great food, and breathtaking scenery it’s hard being back in quite, remote Kawambwa. But I know that it will just take a little time for me to get back into it.
Happy New Year Everyone!
Kim

What exactly is it that I do here in Zambia you ask, well let me tell you

2005-12-06T07:16:00.001-08:00

‘Right to Play is an international athlete-driven humanitarian organization that uses sport and play to improve the lives of children in the world’s most disadvantaged areas. Our programs foster the healthy physical, social, and emotional development of children and empower communities to become stronger and more peaceful. Right to Play also leverages the convening power of sport and play as an effective tool for mobilizing and educating communities around key health issues, including vaccinations and HIV/AIDS prevention’ (Right to Play annual). Yes I did just steal all of that from the annual report. So generally that is what we are trying to do in refugee camps and communities primarily around Africa, though our programs are in Palestinian Territories and Isreal. How the Right to Play program is delivered at each project location is a different and depends on the abilities of the people you are trying to train as coaches and what past project coordinators have done. Right to Play (RTP) has been in Kala camp (where I am) since September 2001. They started off working in the schools because that system was already established. All of the teachers were trained in the RTP red ball module that teaches games that focus on holistic child development. There are 5 balls in the red ball module and each represents a different area of child development, mind, body, spirit, health and peace, though most of the games taught fall under several different balls. Teachers now use the games from the red ball module twice a week during their scheduled phys-ed periods. In addition teachers that were interested in coaching sports were trained in the RTP coach 2 coach module. In this module people on trained on how to be a coach (ie leadership, characteristics of a coach and the goals of RTP) and how to coach the core sports (soccer, basketball, netball, volleyball). These trained coach 2 coaches then began coaching children at their school in the various sports and competitions between the schools took place. The third and final RTP module, live safe, play safe was also taught to some of the teachers. This module focuses on health and uses games to teach the children various health messages. Teachers trained in live safe, play safe were suppose to use their training to increase health awareness during the scheduled HIV/AIDS education periods. So that was how it all began in the schools and after some time several of the teachers that were active with RTP programs were trained to become trainers themselves. A year or so later the RTP program expanded into the community because many children don’t attend school and we wanted to give them to opportunity to play. Community members were trained in the goals of RTP, leadership and red ball games. These coaches then formed ‘team’, which should really be called play groups around the camp. Each ‘team’ has 2-3 coaches and they meet twice a week with the children that live around them for a 1-2 hour play session. I’m sure that this all sounds really great and on paper it is. However in reality the RTP program in Kala camp needs alot of work. RTP does not pay its coaches and as a result it relies on volunteers and keeping these volunteers motivated is a real challenge. I really wish that seeing the positive effects of RTP programs on the children would be even to keep them going but it’s not and they are constantly asking for things (ie t-shirts, hats, food, bikes). The mentality of a refugee is hard to understand. They have endured so much and their living conditions are not ideal, so working with them requires a great deal of compassion. At the same time they are given free food from the World Food Program, free education from World Vision, plots of land to farm, seeds and tools, clean water, homes, health care and they seem to take that all for granted and act like you owe them something. I get the impression that they feel like they are doing so much for us when in reality they are doing it for their children. Getting the refugees to take ownership of the RTP program has been my biggest challenge thus far. When I arrived in the camp many people had been trained by past project coordinators and had the capability to run the programs but very few coaches and teachers were actively implementing RTP programs. Initially I found it very overwhelming since so much had to be done. I spent so much of my time trying to figure out how to get people to become active that I wasn’t able to actually put anything into place. That is until recently when me and my colleague split up the major project areas with him taking responsability for improving the RTP program in the schools and me taking responsability for the RTP program in the community and the HIV/AIDS program. Since then I have been begun to put into place a structure that in itself will keep the coaches motivated. It involves regular trainings and workshops and giving the coaches more say in how the RTP program is run in their community. The progress has been slow and will continue to be slow but I’m hoping that when I leave in August I can look back and see an improvement. So much money is spent to have me here, and I real just want my time here to be spent in the best way possible.
Take care,
Kim
-I just wanted to add that there are some refugees that do understand the goals of RTP and see how the programs can help their children. It is very refreshing working with these people. I work very closely with one man in the community, Gerard, and I rely heavily on him for support, ideas, and frienship.

Refugee Interviews

2005-11-26T08:44:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine who is a volunteer with FORGE, a student-run American NGO also working in Kala camp did these interview and I thought they may be of interest to some of you. Below is what he has sent out

The main purpose of these interviews is to spread awareness of the difficulties refugees in Kala Camp have experienced from their exodus up to their stay in Zambia. My hope is that telling their stories will not fall on deaf ears, as the majority of Americans, along with the rest of the developed world, have either forgotten or chosen to ignore these human beings and the atrocities they’ve lived through. All of these people have been chosen at random, meaning I was unaware of their histories prior to the interviews. They are, however, previous acquaintances, as I have worked with each of them on various projects within the camp. They have all given their consent to disclose the information given in each of their interviews. Please understand that what you read is complete and a true account of what has transpired according to the teller. Some stories may be graphic and/or incomplete due to the person’s inability to continue with the interview.

Relevant Background Notes on the Conflicts within the Democratic Republic of the Congo

U.S. supported Mobutu in overthrowing democratically elected Lumumba in 1960’s, and continued support until the end of the Cold War, despite the overwhelming corruption of Mobutu’s regime
Rwandan Tutsis invaded Zaire to flush out Hutu militia forces (Interahamwe) following the 1994 Rwandan genocide
1997 – Kabila used Rwandan Tutsis and Ugandans to overthrow Mobutu, who used Hutus from Burundi to fight political parties within Zaire
after overthrowing Mobutu, Kabila broke the agreement to the Rwandan Tutsis that would have granted them a portion of land from the DRC (formerly Zaire)
Kabila sent the Congolese army, allied with troops from Zimbabwe, Namibia, and Angola to rid the DRC of Rwandans and Ugandans
Laurent Kabila is replaced by adopted son, Joseph, after his assassination in January 2001
Rwandan Tutsis and Ugandans use former soldiers of Mobutu to rebel against Kabila’s troops
Following the Pretoria Accord in 2002, Rwandan, Ugandan, Zimbabwean, Angolan, and Namibian armies officially withdraw from DRC, however, armed violence remains in the eastern region of the country

There are many more relevant highlights, but these give a brief overview of the situation in DRC.

Approximately 4 million civilians have died in the DRC from famine, war, and disease in the past 5 years alone, one of the largest humanitarian disasters of our time, still, left virtually unchecked. Those who wish to control the country, seek to also gain wealth from the DRC’s vast mineral resources. The solution to this seems to be a puzzle, one that the rest of the world wants no part of – much like the Rwandan genocide, as hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children were slaughtered in a little over 3 months. When the world powers, the media, and the citizens of the developed world turn their heads, humanity is nowhere to be seen. Real people are forgotten and real people suffer. Alive or dead, each of them has a story to tell.

Interview 1

Name: Macwest Ng’andwe
Age: 23
Refugee in Kala since: August 10, 2001
From: Lumbumbashi, Katanga Province, DRC
Current Address in Kala Refugee Camp: Section B, Street 2, No. 19
Current Occupation: Translator for HODI

Macwest’s Story:

His father was a representative of Zambians living in Congo, and worked at the Zambian consulate in Lumbumbashi. In early 2001, he and his family suffered attacks from citizens living in his neighborhood, simply because his mother “looks Rwandan (she is from Bukavu, Kivu Province).” They then moved to Kivu Province, where Macwest began to study law in Bukavu. After a few weeks, a friend of his father, also a military commander, came to him one day, and told him that he and his family were not safe, and after giving Macwest a $100 bill, said that they should flee the country immediately. He told Macwest that he should go home at once, and that he might find his mother and sister, but not his father, as he was taken by the Rwandan National Army. When he reached his home, however, it was empty. Macwest and a friend of his then hitchhiked to Uvira, then to Kalemie, Moba, and then Kaputa, where there was a UNHCR transit center for refugees…a journey of almost 1500km. Now, after 4 years of living in Kala, he is still searching for his mother, sister, and one of his brothers, though, he has discovered that his eldest brother is currently living in South Africa. His father’s whereabouts are unknown, but he has heard rumors from family friends that his mother might be alive in Lumbumbashi.

His thoughts on Kala: It’s disappointing to see how this severe poverty brings out the worst in some people. However, Macwest enjoys when the refugee community is unified during parades, World AIDS Day, World Refugee Day, etc. He’s disappointed that the UNHCR does not have enough resources to provide for the refugees living in the camp. He wishes that people’s talents could be better encouraged.

Goals for the future: Macwest wants to spread understanding in the world. After repatriation, he wants to study economics so that one day he can help to develop both Zambia and Congo. Though, at some point in his life, he would also like to be a journalist.

Interview 2
Name: Jonathan Ngambe Kabengwa
Age: 28
Refugee in Kala since: April 2004
From: Uvira, South Kivu Province, DRC
Current Address in Kala: Section B, Street 3, No. 24
Current Occupation: Electrician

Jonathan’s Story (translated from Swahili):

He was an electrician in Uvira when the rebels, comprised of Tutsis and former soldiers of Mobutu, seized his village in March of 2003. Jonathan was captured and forced to be their electronics operator. When he refused, he was severely beaten. One day, he jumped from one of their vehicles and escaped. Constantly hiding and running from the rebels, he made his way back to Uvira, where he gathered his wife and 4 children. The family then traveled over 1000km by foot from Uvira to Moba, all the while, begging for food on the road and in the villages along the way. A boat captain there hid the family and took them across the lake, another 500km from Moba to Chienge, a transit camp of the UNHCR. From there, Jonathan and his family were transported to Kala and given a tent, some cooking pots, and rations- standard issue for incoming refugees.

His thoughts on Kala: Life is very difficult.
His message to Americans: If you can empathize, please help protect the children.
His opinion of Americans: Americans help others.

Interview 3
Name: Julius Mulundu
Age: 29
Refugee in Mwange from: April 1999 to August 2005
Refugee in Kala since: August 2005
From: Kirungu, Katanga Province, DRC
Current Address: Section C, Street 04, Face B, No. 42
Current Occupation: unemployed (former HODI translator in Mwange)

Julius’ story (copied in the first person, as his story was “too sad” to tell orally):

I was a student and barber in Kirungu. While being at school I gave a pregnancy to a given lady and I have a girl child of 7 years of age. I dedicated to live with the pregnant lady and leave my family. [Our family is a miserable family].
We are 6 in our family: 3 girls & 3 boys. Three children disabled + the father = 4 handicapped. (Julius, himself, walks with a permanent, severe limp from polio during his childhood.) Imagine my father had 7 wives.
When the war broke out, I wanted only to be close to my family. I did so. I [received] a letter from my lady. I went straight to meet her in Murungu, where I found a lot of soldiers for Kabila. I started cutting their hair and being paid. If I cut one soldier his/her hair and refused to pay me, the commander used to give the order of beatings or killing this type of soldier. I became afraid, and I escaped with my first wife to go and meet my family. This was a very crucial and very bad experience in my all life, because I met one soldier who was beaten by the big commander Mr. Nsindamo from Kinshasa close to the ocean. This soldier came at us and killed [shot] my mother in front of me, and forced me to have sex with my dead mother. This was on 30th of December, 1998.
From that day I got traumatized. I started making silly mistakes which made people angry, especially when I was taking beer to easy my experience. From my homeland I reached Kaputa, a transit camp within Zambia, in February 1999 just footing it about 800km. After few months I reached Mwange Camp. [5 years and half in Mwange and now 2 months in Kala] And it is in Mwange where I married my wife by the name of Adelle Nondo and we have one girl of 4 years.
NB: Because of this, my elder brother became a forced soldier. Three siblings are in Tanzania with my father, who is now admitted in hospital paralyzed. He has lost 2 wives.

This interview could not be continued…

When it rains, it pours!

2005-11-23T04:32:00.000-08:00

Back at home, out of habit the first thing I did every morning was look out the window to see the weather. In Zambia however it's always the same thing, sunny without a cloud in the blue sky. But habits are hard to break and I still find myself checking every morning all the same.

Unlike North America, Zambia has three distinct seasons: cool and dry from May to August, hot and dry from September to early/mid-November, and warm and wet from early/mid November to April. As you know I arrived during the cool and dry season and I thought that the weather was ideal with clear sunny skies with the temperature in the mid twenties during the day and temperature going down to a comfortable sleeping temperature at night. At the beginning of September I started to experience 'true African heat'. It's hard to describe this heat. It's not like in North America where you want to strip down to next to nothing; it's more of a burning heat where you are happy to have your shoulders covered. As a result, September and October where not the most comfortable months, with the temperature reaching into the mid forties during the day, but I made it through this. Normally by now the rains should have started in full force, with heavy rains every day and bringing along with them a much needed drop in temperature. Unfortunately this year the rains have started late. My colleague, Kevin's presence in Zambia may be to blame for the lack of rain, since he tells me that where ever he is, it never seems to rain including some of rainiest places, England and Vancouver for instance. Seeing as how Zambian's believe in witchcraft, especially white person JuJu, this may be a plausible explanation. Though it would be nice to have something to cut the heat (it reached 46 degrees yesterday), since the rainy season is painfully long and everything stops when it rains I don't really mind the delay in the rains. On the other hand, Zambians who rely heavily on farming to feed their families and generate a small income, are very anxious for them and the lack of rains have already delayed the planting of their fields by a month. So far we have a few rain falls to foreshadow what is to come and all I can say is WOW. When it rains here it pours! There is no such thing as drizzle here; it comes down hard from start to finish. The rain drops are the biggest I've ever seen and within minutes from starting the dirt roads become rivers. High winds often accompany the rain as does thunder and lightening. Last year, lightening struck one of the schools in the camp, killing six children, resulting in the installation of several lightening arresters in the camp. I love rain storms and every time it rains I can't help but sit in front of a window in awe. The funniest thing is that we can experience torrential rain in the camp while Kawambwa stays dry. Driving to and from the camp you can see dark ominous clouds on the horizon and sometimes rainfall and lightening in the distance. The downside of these amazing rain storms is that life stops when it rains, including our play programmes which rely on outdoor fields. Also the already awful dirt roads take a beating, making cycling that much more difficult but I plan on continuing :).
Have a great week!
Kim

The wind in my hair and the bugs in my mouth

2005-11-14T04:31:00.000-08:00

A week and a half ago the Right To Play team based in Lusaka came up to visit our project and showing them around made me truly appreciate how great it is here and how lucky I am. With them here I was able to see my surroundings through a new set of eyes and was reminded of some of the wonderful things that I was beginning to take for granted, for example our quiet life in Kawambwa and the kids in the camp. Taking them into the camp was especially enjoyable. For Kevin (who is my colleague and not any other sort of 'partner') and me, waving to the kids as we drive around is routine and I began to develop a rubber arm, but the Lusaka team just ate it up. They loved how excited the kids got and also waved to them as they waved and screamed “Muzungu” (white person) and “bye-ah” as we drove past. As soon as we got out of the vehicle, we were always swarmed by children, more so than usual seeing as how with our visitors we more than doubled the normal Muzungu count and the kids love to greet the Muzungu, shake their hand, hang off them and just be around them. Glenn, our communications coordinator, said that with all of the attention he felt like one of the Beatles. The kids here are just great and making them smile (which is really easy) always brightens my day. By the way, Glenn has also been posting articles on a website (http://ginzambia.myblogsite.com/blog). He wants to be a writer and is very good at expressing what it is like here and giving his perspective. I recommend his site to anyone who is interested, plus I know that in his most recent posting he writes about his visit up here and I imagine that his perspective will be interesting to read.
The two girls from the Lusaka team stayed with us for two days before heading up to visit the team in the other camp. Glenn on the other hand got malaria his second day here and had to stay for an extra 5 days as he was in no condition to travel. Glenn and I arrived in Zambia on the same flight and since our arrival 3 months ago he has dislocated his knee twice, scrapped all the skin off his foot, had a car door closed on his hand and now has had malaria. Oddly enough all of these unfortunate events have happened to Glenn when I was around, which hasn't been that often. One might say that I'm bad luck, but I like to believe that my company outweighs the bad things that happen to him. On this specific occasion the malaria that my bad luck may have given him couldn't have been more appreciated, that is once the meds cut in. In Lusaka Glenn has been having a tough time working with his colleagues and the week he spent up here was a break that he needed. It was nice having a friend around who I was able to talk to about my problems with the project and bounce ideas off of for improving things. We also made some amazing meals and had some good laughs. Unfortunately he had to go, but he left me with faith in my ability to make a positive contribution to the project.
Following the departure of the Lusaka team I have begun to take advantage of the bicycles that our Peace Corps friends leave at our house when they aren't at their sites. My decision to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro (the highest point in Africa) in Tanzania this Christmas with my brother, Scott, was what initially prompted me to begin cycling to and from the camp as often as possible, but now I enjoy it so much that I plan to continue after the climb. The camp is 30 km from Kawambwa on a dirt road that is always at either a slight incline or decline, which is much more apparent on a bike than in a vehicle. In addition, the road is in such bad condition that in order to avoid constant bumps and sandy patches, which slow you down or threaten to throw you off your bike, you have to follow one specific path that winds back and forth across the road. Before I had this realization the ride was very difficult and not pleasant at all and I now have the utmost respect for anyone who cycles. The Peace Corps Volunteers are given nice mountain bikes imported from the United States. Zambians on the other hand rely on Zam-bikes as their primary mode of transportation. These bikes are a similar design to a road bike but with no brakes or gears, which would prove to be very useful on these roads and bush trails. However, considering the cheap frames and parts they are made from, these Zam-bikes are incredibly durable. This past week of riding has allowed me to fully appreciate the beauty of my surroundings. The open spaces that stretch for miles and the flora are so beautiful and riding has given me the opportunity to collect my thoughts and get some exercise, while taking it all in. At one point of the ride you reach the top of a plateau and you can see for miles. The view from there is my favourite and I call the village on the plateau 'my village' as that is where I would live if I had the choice. The ride normally takes me between an hour and a quarter and an hour and three quarters depending on the direction I'm travelling and the temperature. The villagers along the way are used to seeing people driving to the camp and not cycling, particularly not a Muzungu. As a result everyone is always very eager to get your attention and greet you. Fortunately greeting them back has proven to be much easier on a bike compared to when I've been running. On several occasions I've had children try to run alongside or behind me for a ways. Then there are always those Zambians on Zam-bikes that insist on riding right behind you or trying to race you. Along the way I pass a considerable number of people on Zam-bikes, of course purely because of my physical condition and not because of the inferior quality of their bikes or the fact that they often have either a 50 kg bag of cassava or a person on the back! I have to admit though that a few times I have been passed by someone on a Zam-bike, which is a little demoralizing to say the least.
So today, on the 3 month anniversary of my arrival in Zambia all I can say is how happy I am to be here!

Kim

Now that's what I call convenience

2005-10-31T04:31:00.000-08:00

For the most part, I would never use the word convenient to describe anything in Zambia. For instance our phone hasn’t worked for the past week, our power goes out every night for two hours, normally when I’m working on the computer (which does not have a battery) or preparing dinner and you often have to do things in a very roundabout kind of way. Grocery shopping on the other hand is very convenient. Driving to and from the camp we pass a village every 4 or 5 minutes, and although the houses are set back from the road, most houses have a chair or a tray at the side of the road with something for sale. Some trays will have only a few tomatoes, whereas others will have a wide selection of items including tomatoes, onions, bananas, groundnuts, oil, flour, salt, soda, avocados, cabbage and beans (basically everything you can get at the Kawambwa market). No one stays by the items on display and they rely on the honour system to ensure that no one takes anything as they pass by. Driving home we’ll stop whenever I see something that we need, honk the horn and someone comes running from the house to make the sale. Prices are even cheaper than in the market and the only problem is that aside from tomatoes, you are never guaranteed to see what you need.
Driving to Lusaka there are long stretches of road without villages, and the greater distance between villages means that there is a variance in weather and soil conditions, resulting in different crops flourishing. For 1 km everyone will be selling mangos on the side of the road and then 20 km later everyone will be selling potatoes. Since everyone in that village is selling the same item you always get a lot for a ridiculously low price. There are some places along the way to Lusaka that always have the same item that they sell in bulk and you can gauge the distance you have travelled on whether you’ve passed the tomato, watermelon, potato, fish or honey women. A trip to Lusaka is kind of like a trip to the Price Club, you can get more than you actually need for such a low price that you can’t help but buy it. On the way up home from Lusaka last week I got a whole shopping bag full of mangos for 25 cents, which I polished off in 5 days. You should eat 5-10 fruits and vegetables a day, but does it count if you eat 15 of the same fruit for 5 days in a row?
Of course being the capital city, Lusaka has to be bigger and better and so they take the convenience of shopping from the comfort of your car to a whole new level. At every traffic light (or robots as they call them here) there are men who walk between the cars selling the most random things. My favourite are those that come to your car window carrying giant tennis balls, phone chargers for your car, dog collars and leads, and bike tires. It makes total sense that one man should be carrying all of these things since they all complement each other so well!. You can also get the newspaper, children’s toys, talk time, a puppy, caterpillars (to eat), fruit, footballs, full length mirrors, music, clothes, inflatable pool toys (sold inflated of course), board games and more. Really everything your heart desires will be brought to your window in a given day and many things that just make you laugh. The street vendors really make my day when I’m in Lusaka.
Cheers,
Kim

Vehicles, the bain of my existance

2005-10-26T04:30:00.000-07:00

I am beginning to realize that here in Zambia things rarely go as planned. I was supposed to go down to Lusaka this week to buy equipment and have the vehicle serviced (which it was in dire need of, seeing as how the engine been making a weird noise for months from an unidentified source, the differential had broken and was welded together and the tread had completely off one of our tires). However, last Monday morning when we started the vehicle, on top of the weird noise, which was starting to sound normal, it sounded like a wrench was being thrown around the engine. I don’t know much about cars, but I know enough to say that that wasn’t normal and we made the executive decision to leave for Lusaka that day. Taking the vehicle away unscheduled for the week meant that our programs in the camp would suffer a little but there were lots of things that Kevin could still do from home. (Notice that I said, could still do, unfortunately left unsupervised he didn’t really do anything.) So I packed up my bags and got ready for our 10 hour drive down. Unfortunately, due to the engine problems, we couldn’t drive over 80 km/hr and our 10 hour drive turned into a 15 hour drive with an overnight in a lovely motel where I was woken up at 2 am by screaming prostitutes outside.
While in Kawambwa I always look forward to visits to the big city. But after a few days of the bright lights, electricity all day and night, hot showers and all the food you could possibly want at your fingertips, I find myself missing Kawambwa and am ready to head back home. Normally when I reach that point something goes wrong and my stay in Lusaka is extended. This trip was no exception. We were scheduled to leave Friday afternoon with a new rental vehicle but when we went to pick it up we were informed that it was not ready but that it would be in an hour’s time. As it turned out it would be ready in an hour for the next 24 hours; delaying me just long enough to miss the goat roast that my friend was having in his village close to Kawambwa. I realize that missing a goat roast might sound like a good thing to most of you, but I was really looking forward to it.
The only good thing that came out of my extended stay in Lusaka was that since I had finished everything I needed to get done I was free to help out the Lusaka team. For those of you who don’t know, this year is the international year for sport and as a result the Ministry of Sport and Culture was holding a week long sports festival which Right To Play was helping with by providing athlete ambassadors. Friday, there were two events happening at the same time at different ends of the city and since Glenn, our communications coordinator (and a really great guy) couldn’t be in two places at once I was sent to one of the locations. My job for the day was to make sure that our athlete ambassadors, 6 rugby players from the Zambian national team, were happy. Being a blond white girl this task was not very hard, since the athletes were happy just standing around talking to me (I’ll write about the men here and their love for white girls another time). I spent the day playing with the children and the athletes, making sure the athletes got water and lunch and just talking with them. They were all really great guys (with bodies to match). They even gave me a Bemba name, Kanswata, which means remembering. Afterwards I was talking to Glenn and found out that most of these athletes volunteered their time not because of the cause but because they got $5 to cover transport (though transport isn’t that much) and a free lunch. It’s astonishing to think that national level athletes get so little recognition that the 2-3 dollars they had left over after transport costs made volunteering their day worthwhile.
I ended up leaving Lusaka Sunday morning thinking our vehicle problems had come to an end……….but over halfway home Joe, our driver, informed me that there was something wrong with the gear box and we couldn’t go over 90 km/hr on flat stretches and 40 km/hr uphill. I’m not sure why he didn’t tell me this when he realized it earlier. It ended up taking us 14 hours to get home and the vehicle problems continue……….
I leave you on that note.
Take care,
Kim

For those of you who don’t know, I posted some photos onto this site while I was in Lusaka. They are in the folders labelled Kawambwa, Kala refugee camp, and LumangweFalls on the left hand side of this page. Just click on the folders and then on the photos that you want to see.

Thanksgiving in Zambia

2005-10-11T04:29:00.000-07:00

In Zambia the rains are about to start, so everyone is doing their planting, and we may not have turkeys, pumpkins, cranberries, or most of the makings for stuffing but that didn't stop us from having a Thanksgiving dinner. After inviting all of the Peace Corps volunteers that live close to us over for a Thanksgiving feast (of course they were all surprised that Canadians also celebrate the holiday and were then curious to know if we also celebrate Halloween, silly Americans. I have yet to meet an American that knows about Canadian Thanksgiving) Kevin and I sat down with the three cookbooks we had, in search of recipes that called for ingredients that were available in Kawambwa. This proved to be more difficult than anticipated and we were left with very few recipes to chose from. With much discussion of what could be used as substitutes in recipes we settled on the following menu : avocado deviled eggs (a Peace Corps favourite), mango chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, ginger glazed carrots and greens, stuffing (that was pretty much just baked bread, butter and onions), and lemon pudding for dessert (which unfortunately didn't work out as planned and was poured down the drain). Although these are dishes that normally would not be served together, we did what we could with what we had available. The preparations starting off like every Thanksgiving meal, with all 7 of us crammed in our kitchen negociating around each other, preparing the dish that we were assigned. Everything ran very smoothly and we weren't even phased when the power cut out halfway through the preparations. We just powered up the generator which provided kind of enough power to run the stovetop and got an imbobula (what Zambians cook on, which is just coals in a holder) from the guards on which we cooked the rest of the food.
At 20 hrs we all took our places at the table which was set with turkey place settings made out of construction paper. The meal was delicious, and it was complimented by our tequila with juice conconction (tequila is a normal Thanksgiving beverage isn't it?). Thanksgiving traditions were upheld with everyone saying things that they were thankful for and we sat around talking and laughing for hours. There was even a little dance party towards the end of the night, possibly due to the influence of the tequila.
I hope everyone passed a good Thanksgiving!
Kim

Flying solo and the joys of public transport

2005-10-04T04:28:00.000-07:00

Not sure if any of you have ever done this, but those of you that have can contest that living and working (spending pretty much 24/7) with one other person can be trying at times. I now know why people advise never to date anyone at work, you just see too much of them. For those of you that don’t know, my other half for the next 8 months is Kevin Elder from Calgary. He is soon to be 25 years old, has a degree in development studies, and has extensive travel experience. He is a nice guy who really enjoys his cheesy puns (dad your kind of guy) and overall we get along quite well.
Last week Kevin went to Lusaka for what we thought would be 3 days to buy equipment and I got to run the show up here and spend some quality ‘Kim time’. On my end I have to say that it all ran quite smoothly. Last week we started up a video show program for the end of each month for the kids that play in our community teams. The children would show up waving the little tickets we had given them in advance and join the crowd of children waiting outside (I got to act as a bouncer at the door). The turn out was amazing (over 200 kids each day) and we squeezed in as many children as the room would allow (maybe even a few too many since it got very hot in there). The films were in Swahili so I didn’t understand a thing but the kids did and really enjoy the novelty of watching a tv, we even had teenagers and adults watching through the windows.
In Lusaka, Kevin on the other hand ran into some bad luck. His transport back up to Kawambwa with peace corps was cancelled after an unfortunate incident involving some of them climbing a water tower and being arrested for poisoning the communities drinking water (which they weren’t doing), resulted in the driver of the transport and some other volunteers being sent back to the states. As a result Kevin had to find other means of getting back (an enjoyable 11 hour bus ride) and ended up staying in Lusaka until Thrusday.
Friday we had the pleasure of taking possibly the worst road I have even been on to the UNHCR interagency meeting 3 hours away in Mporokoso. These meetings are once a month and bring together all of the implementing partners of the UNHCR (World Vision, World Food Program, Right To Play, HODI (Zambian NGO), AAH (Zambian NGO), and the Ministry of Home Affairs) to update each other on what is being done and discuss relevant topics. The topic of this months meeting was the environment and socio-economic empowerment for the refugees. With the reports of the meeting focusing on charcoal burning, goats in the camps and mud stoves (all issues that have nothing to do with Right To Play) I was brought back to my elementary/junior high schools days of passing notes with the other Right To Play PC’s, and we were not the only ones doing so since the topic was only relevant to 5 of the 21 people in attendance. I would have to say that the biggest excitement of the trip was when we stopped on the side of the road to buy banana’s and got an entire foot and a half shaft of banana’s (over 60 little banana’s) for 60 cents!!!!!! What a deal, but there is no way you could eat that many banana’s before they went bad, but we tried our best.
Now as I mentioned before, some peace corps volunteers were being sent home and we wanted to go say our goodbyes, which meant a trip down to Mansa for Saturday night. Zambia has been having desiel shortages (almost doubling the cost of desiel) ever since I arrived, as a result driving our vehicle down was out of the question causing us to opt for public transport. My experience with public transport in foreign countries has always been an experience to say the least. In Guyana last spring it always involved being bombarded with dozens of conductors as soon as you came even close to the minibus car park, all grabbing at you in an effort to get you on their minibus. Then once you were crammed in a minibus they drove extremely fast with frequent stops, blaring loud music and if you were lucky playing the music videos of the songs or having black lighting inside. A part of me actually wanted to be a minibus conduction in Guyana, hanging out the window of the minibus making this sucking noise to get people’s attention, calling out your route, filling and emptying the bus, and handling the money. I really should have taken the opportunity when my friend gave me to opportunity to for a day, but I couldn’t make the sucking noise loud enough. In Africa public transport is not nearly as fast or reliable for that matter. Saturday there is only one minibus that goes to Mansa and there is no set time when it leaves, it just goes when it fills up. As a result I woke up bright and early and headed down to the boma to be told that the minibus was leaving at 12 hours. This really doesn’t mean anything since they just give arbitrary departure times, so we decided to wait around. At around 9 hours there seemed to be almost enough people standing around to fill the minibus so we climbed in to get a seat, where we sat waiting for another hour. At 10 hours everyone else got into the bus and we started out, or so we thought. We made it about 2 kilometers out of town before we stopped to pick someone up and then turned around and drove back to Kawambwa where several people that had gotten on in Kawambwa got off. It’s times like these that I really wish that I understood Bemba, we had no idea what was going on. After another 30 minutes in Kawambwa we started off again. As expected it was a very eventful, typical ride on public transport. The highlights being :
-the chicken under my seat
-stopping at police check points where the conductor got off the bus with a wand of cash, disappeared behind the barrier with the officer and then returned with nothing but a note for the other check points…….no no no he mustn’t have been bribing the officer, no one is corrupt here.
-the frequent stops to pick up and drop people off.
-the rocking of our bench (minibuses are not in the greatest shape here)
-and last but not least the full grown live pig that was hoisted onto the roof. Hearing the squeals, seeing them lift him by the ears and legs and ride on top of the bus under a bike and in the hot sun evoked in me strong feelings of animal rights.
5 hours later we arrived in Mansa (it’s only 200 km away). It was well worth it be in the company of other muzungu’s for a night. Plus the people that are leaving really appreciated that we came down to see them, especially that we took public transport, so much so that they arranged for their driver to drive us back home the next day J.
All and all it was a good week.
I’ve got some bad news. For some unknown reason they are taking away our access to the internet at the UNHCR. Starting tommorrow we can only access a group email account that has all of our emails going through Geneva as a result it takes us 3 days to receive them. I will find a way to still post articles, either via my parents who will post them for me. I will give out my group email account in my next posting. Please continue to email me though because being away from all of you is hard and I can’t tell you how receiving emails with even the most mundane news brings up my spirits. I knew this internet access was too good to be true.
I miss you and love you
Take care,
Kim

Thighs no, but breast yes!

2005-09-27T04:27:00.000-07:00

In Zambia, breasts are not considered private parts. Also, most women of child-bearing age always have a nursing child. So you see alot of breasts as they nonchalantly whip em, without warning, to nurse their child. It is such a normal part of their day that they wouldn’t think of stopping what they are doing, whether it be chairing a meeting, giving directions, cooking or even pedaling a bicycle. Thighs on the other hand are another story. Zambians consider a women’s thigh to be the most erotic part of her body. As a result, since women never wear trousers they always have their legs covered with an ankle length skirt. On top of this skirt they wrap a chitenge, a piece of brightly coloured African fabric, like a sirong. Wearing a chitenge is the traditional African dress for women and wealthier women will have a chitenge suit made that consists of a skirt and a top. The style of the suit depends on where you are, the Congolese women like the puffy sleeves whereas the Zambians prefer a more modest sleeve. After getting away with wearing trousers around Kawambwa and the camp for the past month, I’ve followed the subtle hints and gotten my first chitenge. There is a plethora of gorgeous chitenge material to choose from, and those of you that have been shopping with me know how hard it was for me to choose, but I finally settled on one of the more subduded ones. I won’t be wearing it over top of another skirt though, I don’t know how they do it in this African heat, I’m going to have to opt for shorts underneath.
Chitenges are one of the most practical things I’ve seen in Zambian. In addition to using them as a wrap, they are used to sling a baby on your back or coiled up into a circle and used as a cushion to carry things on your head, both skills that I plan on learning before I leave. It is absolutely amazing the weight that people are able to carry on their heads. You rarely see anyone with anything in their hands, everyone from children to the elderly carry the smallest thing like a book or a cup, to the largest thing like a suitcase, pile of wood, bag of cassava, or water on their heads. I am often amazed by their sense of balance. I’ve seen women with 10 liters of water on their heads bring a baby from their back to their front while negociating the uneven dirt road, without spilling a drop or breaking stride.
There are less clothing restrictions on Zambian men and most men normally wear trousers and long sleeved collared shirts. Most of these shirts are the same as at home but you do come across some pretty politically incorrect ones, for instance I’ve seen people wearing shirts with images of Saddam Hussein and George Bush with a heart around them, Bin Laden and the Twin Towers, and Saddam Hussein. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if these were worn in North America. There are also shirts that are just plain old funny. My favourites are the Kevin’s brown shirt with lime green David Beckham heads all over it and one of the school directors shirts that has images of Pierce Bronson and 007. As well Nelly, 50 Cent and JLo would be pleased to know that their fan base stretches all the way to rural Zambia where you are sure to see children and adults alike wearing shirts or entire outfits with them on it. You can’t leave out all of the Canadian logos that you see on clothes either. It always makes me smile when I see someone wearing something with the Maple Leafs, Blue Jays or Niagara Falls logo, which is much more often than you would have guessed.

Have a great week!
Kim

Of waterfalls and flying cars

2005-09-20T04:26:00.000-07:00

Everyday at midday all I can ever think is how gosh darn hot it is here. The heat is very different from the heat at home; it’s a burning, dry heat. Right now I would say that the temperature is in the mid to high thirties and everyone keeps telling me to wait until October and November, the two hottest months of the year when the temperature is in the forties, hot, I know! Most days I would kill to be able to go swimming. Luckily, although Zambia is a landlocked country it has the most amazing waterfalls, two of the best in Southern Africa in fact. There’s Victoria Falls, one of the 7 great wonders of the world, about 17 hours southwest of me, so not really a weekend getaway distance. And there are Lmangwe falls, which are 2 hours on a not so great road from Kawambwa. This past weekend a group of 25 of us went on a camping trip to Lmangwe falls. Prior to coming to Zambia I had no idea how many countries the Peace Corps was in, 70-80 to be exact, and Zambia is one of these countries. In my province there are around 30 Peace Corps volunteers and although they all live in tiny villages, half a dozen of them often cycle into Kawambwa for meetings and supplies and often crash at our place. There is also a Peace Corps house 2 hours away, where there are always a lot of volunteers passing through. As a result I get to hang out with other muzungu’s a fair bit. I’m really glad that they are around, it’s a nice break to be able to talk to someone other than Kevin. They have also invented a great game called beer cricket, which I am getting very good at and am looking forward to bringing back to Canada. Anyways, so Peace Corps is who we went to the falls with this weekend. After a very frustrating Saturday spent trying to fix a blown out tyre (you don’t even want me to get into the problems we have had with cars thus far, but our luck couldn’t have been worse. And just when we thought that all our problems had been solved the tyre blow, with the only guy who could fix it being in the camp for the day and all the other options we had falling through, but not before we all got our hopes up about them) we hit the terrible road and bumped our way to the falls. It’s hard to describe the beauty of these falls, they were about a 100 foot drop and were just amazing. I hope to be able to post photos soon. We camped right next to the falls and there was no one else there. That’s the best part of being in a developing country, most of the beauty is completely untouched. There were no guard rails, souvenir shops or anything. Sunday we all piled into the Peace Corps land cruiser which seats 11 people (we squeezed in 15, lucky me had to sit on a beer crate) and drove to a second set of falls, which weren’t as high and cascaded down. The land cruiser is like a tank that can drive over anything. As a result Joey, the Peace Corps volunteer leader doesn’t feel the need to slow down when driving along the uneven, pothole filled windey roads of Zambia. On our ride to the second falls I’m pretty sure that on several occassions the land cruiser took flight and my butt on the beer bottles suffered the consequences when we returned to the ground. But we arrived alive and spend the day exploring and swimming. The swimming at both the falls was amazing. The water was the perfect temperature and at the falls where we were camping you could boulder across some rocks to a cave behind the falls which was very cool, although getting there was a little scary. It felt a little like you were in white squal with waves pounding you and the spray from the falls hitting you as you tried to get your footing and a firm grasp of the wet rock wall. And then to top off the already great weekend, me and my friend Jon won the beer cricket tournament Sunday night! Now we have 5 Peace Corps volunteers staying at our house for a few days before they cycle 14 hours down to their provencial meeting, which is really just a reason to party. Unfortunately I can’t go to because I have work to do L but I’m sending Kevin to have fun for the both of us.

Sorry this posting is late but Peace Corps is just too much of a distraction, you have to take advantage of the company while you can!

Take care,

Kim

Food, what better to talk about?

2005-09-12T04:24:00.000-07:00

Last week was a pretty uneventful week. Schools in the camp were suppose to start Monday but because registration wasn’t done and World Vision had yet to distribute the notebooks and pens it was postponed until today. We spent every day in the camp in various meetings. Somehow we always managed to schedule one meeting for the morning and another for the afternoon, as a result we spent alot of time just sitting around in between. My favourite meeting was the street section leader meeting that lasted 4 hours and none of what was discussed was relevant to Right To Play. The best part was when one of our implementing partners (IP) announced that they would be training a group of refugees as tradesmen. This sounded like a great way for the refugees to generate an income, but then one of the street section leaders announced that the same thing had been done the year before but that those trained had never been given any tools to use, as a result none of them have put their training to use, so what was the point in training more people. The IPs’ response was that their plan was in line with the UNHCR’s durable solution for all the refugees to go back to the Congo, where they could support themselves as trained tradesmen. This is all fine and dandy, but the refugees aren’t going back to the Congo right now and in the meantime families have no money to buy food and are starving. I think that the UNHCR should think up some more useful durable solutions.
My weekend was very relaxing. I spent the days reading in my hammock (so glad I decided to bring it), baking and running. Saturday night we had all of the Muzungu’s (white people) in Kawambwa, all 3 of them and a few of our Zambian friends over for some poker, where I didn’t fare too well but still had a great time. The highlight of the weekend though was my Zambian cooking lesson with my friend, Laya. To date I’ve been making relatively North American foods such as eggs, french toast, tomato sandwiches, Mr. Noodle soup, pizza and pasta. The only problem is that most things I cook at home require ingredients that I can’t get up here and I don’t want to have to rely on stocking up on all these things when I’m in Lusaka. Plus, I’m in a foreign country and want to eat local food while I’m here. So last night I learnt how to make some of the simpler Zambian food, all of which were cooked over charcoal. The staple Zambian food is nshima which is kind of like cream of wheat but more solid. At meal time, after having warm water poured over your hands to rinse them (luckily the people I’ve eaten with do it this way as oppose to everyone dipping their hands in a communal dish, with the poor people at the end washing their hands in black water), you use your right hand (always your right hand, people are always shocked that I’m a lefty) to pick up the piping hot nshima, which you roll it into a ball the palm of your hand. You then use your thumb to make a little indent in your ball which you then use to scoop up the relish. They use the word relish to describe anything you eat with nshima, whether it be fried cabbage, rape (a green leafy vegetable), or beans for example. Last night I learnt how to make nshima, cabbage, beans, meatballs and sauce. For the most part every single dish just involves frying or boiling whatever it is that you are cooking and then frying it with tomatos, onions and a very large amount of oil (sorry Dad no butter) to make the sauce, oh and you can’t forget the salt, Zambians love their salt. There are many other Zambian dishes the Laya will show me how to make but these are the basics, which is a good place for me to start. Once I get the hang of this cooking I’m thinking that this will be my normal diet; for breakfast roasted tute (also known as cassava, a root vegetable that can either be bitter or sweet. We eat the bitter one, which we soak over night in water to get the bitter taste out and then roast over charcoal in the guards hut) with avocado, for lunch if we are in the camp fried sweet potato (sweet potatos here are a different colour from at home, less orange) or fried dough (mmmmmm) and if we’re at home probably just a tomato sandwich, and for dinner fried cabbage or beans with tomato and onions. I’ll try my best to make nshima but I don’t know if I’ve got it in me, it involves alot of rigorous stiring. I also don’t know if I’ll cook meat, I can’t really be bothered plus we have soy pieces that taste surprisingly good. I’m sure some days I will resort to eating french toast or an omelette, because that’s the only thing Kevin can make and there is no way I’m cooking for him every night (I’m slowly trying to hint at him helping me with other meals but it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks). I’m not sure how all this food sounds to you but it’s really good, that is when Laya cooks it, fingers crossed that mine will taste similar. I’ll keep you posted.
Have a great week!
Kim

The fruit of my labour (You don't what to know how long it took me to set up this blog, during the process I almost threw the computer out the window)

2005-09-07T04:04:00.000-07:00

Four weeks ago, after 48 hrs of travel I arrived in Zambia, having taken quite possibly the longest most indirect route. I spent my first few days in Lusaka, the dirty none descript capital of Zambia registering with immigration and the Canadian High Commission. I also have the pleasure of experiencing a night out on the town with our Lusaka team and their friends. First we went to a club where some Zambian pop stars were performing and then since some of our group wanted to dance we went to a bar called the Brown Frog. I had been warned before going out that there would be prostitutes in the bar but I was not prepared for their turnout at the Brown Frog. Every single female in the bar besides us was a prostitute and most of the men were old, fat white men. To say the least I didn’t have that great of a time. After having my fill of Lusaka, my partner, Kevin and I headed up to the place I will be calling home. Luckily we were able to hitch a ride with the other Right To Play team who were heading up in our direction, I don’t think I could have stood the 11 hour drive in a hot crowded bus.
I am living in a small community, Kawambwa, in Luapula Province in Northern Zambia, roughly 45 kilometers from the border of the Democratic Republique of the Congo. Kawambwa is where the tarmac ends, as all the roads out of town are dirt and not in the best condition. Kawambwa’s main drag (the Boma) is the only paved road in town and is lined with shops that carry the basics. There is also a market, bank, bakery and bar. We live on the outskirts of Kawambwa about a 10 minute walk from the Boma in a very nice 3 bedrooms house. Every night our lovely electricity provider, Zesco cuts the electricity from 6 :30 pm to 8 :30 pm to conserve power so that Lusaka can have power all the time, lucky them. Even though it happens every night, I always get my hopes up that maybe tonight will be different, but alas I am always let down.
We go to the camp almost everyday. The camp is 30 minute drive from Kawambwa, which would be the ideal amount of time for a little nap after a busy day, that is if the road were paved or even, which it isn’t. There are always goats, pigs, chickens and people on bicycles all over the road, as a result our ride is always interesting with our driver, Joe, negociating around them and us bumping around in the passenger seat. Thus far we have only had one chicken casualty who had his revenge by puncturing our tyre. The population of the camp is roughly 22,000 people but they are never sure because people will often sell their food ration cards for some extra money before returning to the DRC. The camp is set up in a grid formation and divided into 4 different zones. Every family in the camp gets a plot of land in the grid where they can build a mud and brick home as well as a plot of land on the outskirts of the camp to farm. Running down the middle of the camp are the food distribution centre, the police station, the market, our office, water stations, churches and several other buildings. There are 6 schools that are scattered throughout the camp. There is no military presence at the camp at all and I’ve only seen one police officer on one occasion at the gate. Although I have nothing to compare it to, I think the camp is rather well set up and I feel very safe while I’m there.
Just like at home, for the past two months the children have been on winter vacation, during which time Right To Play ran a summer play program (kind of like day camp with health and life lessons), as a result our normal programs haven’t really been running and I haven’t experienced a ‘typical’ day. Normally Right To Play works in both the community and the schools. We have community coaches that run play sessions for their group children two times a week and school coaches that run play sessions during recess and phys-ed classes and sport programs after school. School starts up again today so all of our regular actitivies will resume and I’ll start to be able to see how it all really works; exciting, I know.
In the camp there are kids everywhere. They love to yell Muzungu (white person in swahili) and wave as we drive by, and I can’t help but feel a bit like the Queen Mum constantly waving back. Whenever we stop the car and get out there are always at least a dozen kids that surround us and the number increases the longer we are around. Normally they’ll just stand around staring at me but the ones that live near the office are less shy and will come up and hold my hand. During down time I most often find myself playing outside with the kids. They love giving high-fives, copying my actions and repeating whatever I say. Although most of the adults speak french the kids speak swahili but the language barrier isn’t really problem, that is until they start hanging off my arms and I can’t tell them to let go as more and more of them grab on, riping my shoulders out of their sockets. We start swahili lessons this week and I’ll make sure to learn how to say, ‘let go you’re hurting me’ the first day.
I am able to use the computers at the UNHCR office in Kawambwa but there is only one computer that we have to share with a lot of other people. Since there is a long line behind me now I best be off, but I will be updating this site every Monday so if you are ever wondering what I am up to feel free to check.
Take care,
Kim