An Emergency Trip to Chipata Compound

 

“Tom, Phridae has the camera and I need to go to Chipata Compound to document the plight of this lady.  She needs to be brought to the clinic today.”  My camera sat on my roughly fabricated pine-colored-wood desk.

Two members of the women’s group had been in the office speaking to members of the staff about the need to get to Chipata Compound quickly to intervene with a young pregnant woman and get her to the clinic for testing, care and treatment.

The organization’s women’s groups’ are a cadre of women who live in all of the compounds around Lusaka.  These women become the organizations ‘foot soldiers’ in the communities identifying vulnerable children and pregnant women who are in need of medical assistance, HIV testing, care and treatment.

Compound is the term used in Zambia for local communities where most of the Zambian population lives in the Lusaka area.  These compounds can be large areas (many square miles) with intricate social, political and cultural structures.  Roads are mainly dirt/mud and would scare off even the most savvy off road, four wheel drive enthusiast.  Plumbing, sanitation, electricity windows, and organization can be lacking but having said that, it is amazing to see how life in the compound carries on. Despite what I see as chaos, children run and are playing everywhere while neighbors talk, vendors sell their wares and things seem to function.  People seem to get by.  The compound in Zambia is analogous to the townships (SOWETO and the like) found in the Republic of South Africa.

Since I had the camera and I was in no position to let Charles (our ‘photo journalist’) trek off with my prized possession, I offered to go with the women (Stella and Junia) and Charles to see for myself life in Chipata Compound, help with the intervention and see how Stella and Junia work in their community.

We boarded an official blue Lusaka City Taxi on Cairo Road for the 15-minute drive to Chipata Compound on Great North Road.  A newspaper sat on the dashboard and there was a significant shatter in the windshield.  The dashboard was blue shag.  Once we were in the cab and started off the driver kindly put on an English news program for my enjoyment I’m sure.  The Zambian’s are always kind in this way: very respectful.  The roads were chaotic as usual.  Black smoke belched from trucks and cars in front of us.  Stoplights were not working and cars darted in and out from what seemed to be all directions.  I am becoming more accustomed to this and just kept busy sending texts to organize the staff for our return.

We entered Chipata Compound and the further we drove in the more the roads deteriorated.  The taxi began to bottom out on the uneven surfaces of mud, rock and garbage debris.  “We are here,” said Stella and the taxi pulled over and came to a stop.  We got out of the car and true to form a crowd started to assemble wondering what we were doing in their neighborhood.  I think the white man in the crowd drew the most curious onlookers.  The children gathered and when they saw my camera immediately began to cluster for pictures violently pushing the other out of the way.  Children of less than 10 years old carried younger siblings.  All were filthy and mostly in tattered clothing.  Girls donned corn- row hairstyles with colorful beads.  Runny noses were flowing on most.  The youngest cried at the sight of me.  Diplomatically I started shaking hands.  The kids laughed at the thought of shaking my hand.  Others were hesitant and didn’t want to squeeze too tight.

The client’s home was not at all far from the road.  Stella went in to announce our arrival and we were motioned to come to the house.

The house was a mud and clay structure with clothing hanging outside of the entry.  The floor was dirt.  Inside the dark room were two loveseat type chairs with the velour cushion covers all but disintegrated exposing only the foam cushion.  There on the floor sat a young lady wrapped in her chitange (sorang) and a loose silky tank top.   I couldn’t see immediately the woman was pregnant.  I began to ask questions.

She was indeed pregnant.  I asked her how far along in her term she was.  Stella translated and the woman replied “nine months”.  I couldn’t believe she was nine months along but malnutrition could have a significant factor on small sized belly.  The woman was also a double amputee and had also lost her left hand.  I asked if she had any pre-natal care to which she replied through the translator “no”.  She was quite agile and moved around the room easily but I had a sense she did not feel well.  She moved on her stumps to the next room where she changed her top.  We took some pictures of her home and of the women who provided her care.

As we left the house to go to the waiting cab Stella told me the father of the child is nowhere to be found and offers no support.  Often in these cases the woman does not want to discuss this key factor and sadly the pregnancy is the result of rape or incest.  My heart sank.  I put my hand on the woman’s shoulder and said, “It’s going to be OK.  We’ll have a doctor look at you and get you care and medicine.  We will provide you nutritional support for you and the baby”.  Stella translated into Cinyanja and the lady smiled back at me.

Junia stayed behind in Chipata Compound and walked to her home and Stella, Charles, the patient and her sister got in the cab.  I walked some of the way trying to prevent the low riding taxicab from bottoming out on our drive out of the compound.  Within 15 minutes we were back at the clinic where the social welfare and medical teams surrounded the lady with loving care.

 I was able to see her following her appointments as she was wheeled out of the facility to the waiting cab.  I took her hand and squeezed it.  She said “OK”.  I talked with the clinical officer who said she is actually about seven months pregnant and did indeed test positive for HIV.  She will have to undergo a cesarean section and doctors at University Teaching Hospital (UTH) were notified of her situation.  A cesarean section will lessen the risk to the infant of contracting HIV during childbirth.  Further, this lady will immediately start antiretroviral therapies that will also allow the baby better odds at not contracting the virus.

This scenario can be repeated many, many times a day here.  This case was exceptional because of the woman’s other physical issues.  I love what I am doing.

The Retreat at Kiambi Lodge, Chirundu, Zambia

There are times I stop in my tracks and ask myself 'where in the world am I?'

I woke up yesterday morning after an incredible eleven hour slumber courtesy of a cool spring night, intermittent rain and an all night flight the night before.  Truth-be-told, I could have stayed in bed longer.  After a nice shower, a mouth full of vitamins and some eggs on toast, I finished packing for my weekend retreat to Kiambi Lodge close by the (Zambian/Zimbabwean) border town of Chirundu.  I worked on some emails in the morning before Tim arrived to fetch me for the drive.  After making our way through a crowded Lusaka. where my senses were pushed to the limit, we met up with Phridae who was waiting for us to pick him up outside the Auto World compound on the southern road out of Lusaka.

The drive was thankfully uneventful which is a lot to say on the Zambian roadways.   Tim started the drive and shortly into the ride traded with Phridae and opted for a rest in the back seat.  Just before lying down we had a bit of a scare when Phridae attempted to overtake two semi trucks and a bus on a patch of road with multiple hills one-after-the-other.  There was no possibility to get a good view of the road ahead.  The bus, which also attempted to overtake the trucks, had abandoned its futile attempt and returned to its line in the slow queue.  Seeing the opportunity to make his move, Phridae pulled out of the lineup and eked up next to the first semi.  In fourth gear and going about 30 mph while moving uphill we were clearly not making the progress I was hoping for.  I was in the front seat feeling somewhat petrified, completely out of control and that horrible feeling when you feel suspended in time, when Tim began admonishing Phridae for his poor judgment.  I couldn't help myself and said "hey Phridae, not OK"!  He got the point, apologized and speedily returned us to our rightful place in line.  A car shortly zoomed by in the opposite direction.

The Zambian roadways are dotted with the wreckage of those who have gone before us.  Everywhere lays a reminder of just how dangerous driving can be in Zambia.  Shells of rusted cars lie littered both on and off the roadways any piece of salvageable part removed long ago.  The metal that remains only reminds one of the horrible event that must have transpired.  There is truck wreckage, too.  These remnants are even more dramatic to see.  As we climbed and descended a mountain pass signs were placed everywhere en-route warning truckers to use low gears and to check their brakes.  There were areas designed to help runaway trucks stop before plummeting over the side to certain doom.  As we descended around one turn in the road, a truck stood stranded, for who knows how long, in a large muddy pool seeming to be on the brink of tipping over.  The side of the mountain appeared ready to catch it if it did.  At one point the water was up over the tires and the cargo container remained intact on the bed of the truck.  It was consumed by the water like a fly caught on fly paper.  Further a long, with no sign of the truck that was transporting it, lie a bent and mostly destroyed cargo container.  Whether some of this roadside wreckage will ever be collected is anyone's guess though I would put my money on probably not.  Hope you get the picture.

We arrived in Chirundu with no plan other than to pass through.  Chirundu is a border town only a moments walk to the bridge over the Zambezi River and into Zimbabwe.  Aside from this distinction it can be said Chirundu is a town with a high number of prostitutes and long-haul truckers making the trip from various far reaches of southern Africa into and out of Zambia and beyond.  It is border towns like this or where roads from different points on the map converge at a literal cross-roads throughout Zambia that HIV infection and prevalence rates still run rampant among the local populations.  Shortly after we arrived into Chirundu the two-lane highway ended and we were on rough dirt road up to the pontoon crossing at the Kafue River.  There we met the bus that was carrying our colleagues.  To my surprise they were in good spirits--very good spirits.  "Well, why not, it is Friday afternoon after all".

It was still another 30 minutes or so (sometimes having to divert off the dirt road where the recent rains have made it impassable with huge mud ponds) until we reached the turn off for Kiambi Lodge.  Once we drove into the gate we drove directly to our cottage.  It is an impressive clay structure finished in stucco with a high pitched thatch roof.  Real African.  It is a circular building with cement floors and lacquered wood doors, trim and staircase leading to the bedroom loft above.  There are no glass windows only a mesh netting strung across the large opening around the cottage perimeter.  It is rounded out well with all the comforts of a cement bathroom and fully appointed kitchen.

I immediately set my eyes on the patio area surrounded by green grass, lush vegetation and trees.  Literally on a bluff just above the river's edge there is a fire pit, bar-b-que and a half circle of camouflage green camping chairs under the trees set up to allow one to take in the magnificent view of the mighty Zambezi.  I could tell a perfect African sunset was shaping up to take us into the night.  I walked to the edge for a look down the slope and to the river.  There to greet me and make me jump high was a four-plus foot water monitor lizard.  Equally as freaked out by me as I was by it, it too made a quick and loud dash into the brush from its sunny perch.  "OK, we are in nature" I reminded myself as I made my way quickly back to the car to haul stuff into the cottage.  Oh, how I could hear some certain friends having a laugh about this!  I did see it had made its way back to its perch awhile later.

After a lovely buffet meal (LOL) prepared by the chefs here at the lodge (and a few gin & tonics before, during and after the meal) I made my way back to the cottage to write.  I actually wrote a couple of hours and the entire bit was lost when I lost connectivity and the blog wasn't saved.  I've only sorted out today, and while writing this, that I lose connectivity about, oh say, every three to four words written.  I must either stay put in a certain area of the cottage with clear access to the lodge's reception/lobby area (sitting on a certain rather uncomfortable, heavy wooden couch with cushions) and even at times contort in the area to seek the magic wireless connection.  I have held the laptop above my head seeking the elusive signal.  Each time I have to reconnect in order to save the blog from cyber-oblivion.  Once it reconnects I have to quickly drag the cursor to the "save now" button while I keep my eye on the all-important-signal-icon and hope I don't lose bars before the save is complete.  Maddening.  There is a significant lesson in all of this for me I tell myself!

I somewhat overslept this morning.  The Chi Gong alarm tone on my Blackberry was not enough to wake me over the outdoor rhythms of nature and the hum of my oscillating floor fan.  Tim knocked at 0825 asking if I wanted to go to breakfast.  Serves me right for trying to wake to a pleasant sound on a Blackberry still set on Pacific Standard Time (I set the alarm for 2200 meaning it would ring when it was 0800 here).  Tonight, the Zambian mobile will be set and will wake me in the morning to a loud, horrible bell.  Not the way I like to start the day...

This morning I was asked to facilitate a portion of the team building retreat.  My topic was 'defining success, the criteria for success and how one measures success and how this is conveyed to donors so the donor will be more likely to fund the program again.  Despite the late start I was feeling particularly good after my sleep and said "sure, I can do it".  The day really went well and thank goodness for Dr Hannah and her husband Tim who saved the day by offering to facilitate major chunks of time after the scheduled facilitators' car broke down yesterday about an hour outside of Lusaka.  The staff took well to the day and the topics and talked at length about what they hope the organization will look like in 5 years.  They are an impressive, energetic, loyal and fun group of young people wanting to--and indeed--making a real difference in the lives of many children in and around Lusaka.  If their dreams come true the organization could be compared in size and to the likes of any large well administered international non-governmental organization (INGO) operating in Zambia today.  I hope their dreams come true.

Tim & I opted for a quick dip in the pool over the lunch break as the sun was shining brilliantly hot.  Everyone here is still trying to recover a bit from the previous 7 days straight of rain in Lusaka kicking off the rainy season here not only a bit early but with a vengeance.  We finished the agenda by 1600 and everyone filed to the cottage for G&Ts before our game cruise on the river.  When it is 'Miller time' here you best get out of the way.  People loaded up on drink and descended the cement stairway to the river's edge.

We took two boats out and it felt awesome to be on the water.  I had my shirt off and was soaking in the last bit of sunshine for the day.  I was pleased to look back from the bow where I was sitting to see 4 out of 5 other guys had taken their shirts off as well.  They either had to think I was a fool and they would humor me by following suit or thrilled that they had an excuse to bare their torsos.  OK, I still don't know which it is but I can tell you the Zambians are quite modest.  Leave it to me.

We saw an abundance of hippo and elephant but came across only one crocodile and from a bit of a distance.  The environment was amazing and I found myself soon in a most remarkable head space; relaxed, peaceful, content and enthralled by where I was and what I was seeing.  A real gift, a moment to savor and take in.  My fellow cruisers were a bit loud and overtly expressive.  The girls feigned with fear of the water and the guys laughed.  I have come to find out most Zambians are quite afraid of the water and don't know how to swim.  So the nervous energy probably applied equally to both the women and men in this case.  What a treat it is to pick up on these nuances.  I love that about different people & places!

We had another nice meal this evening and here I sit continuing to contort on the lounge trying to save this blog for what will be one of the last times today.  What an incredible place in which I find myself tonight.  So much to be thankful for not the least of which are the rich experiences I take in here at Kiambi Lodge outside of Chirundu, Zambia.

Good night.

The Adventures of Everyday Life

It is Monday morning and I am sitting at my desk knowing full well what I have planned for my day but wanting to sneak in a moment to blog.

Last week was spent focused on writing the Semi-Annual Report for the office.  I was responsible for taking information from the Program Director, Monitoring and Evaluation (M&E) Specialist, Finance and Grants Manager and Chief of Party and organizing their respective parts into a cohesive well written report.  I also had to incorporate  information form the previously filed Quarterly Report into the final document.  I felt good about the assignment especially as I felt a good flow in my writing and ideas.   Sometimes it happens and other times I struggle to get the ideas and concepts down (read: writers' block).

I felt organized and must say I even managed to complete the assignment ahead of schedule.  By Tuesday I had a draft to the Chief of Party.  Accepting her comments and track changes in the document would be easy and quick and it looked like I should start making plans to get myself on a flight Wednesday to Amsterdam for a long weekend to celebrate Konningendag (Queen's Day) with my friends there.  The flights were open (seats were available for standby travelers) and I was getting my head around the fact that after a 12+ hour all night flight on Wednesday I would be with my friends in my favorite city for my favorite party of the year by Thursday morning.  Perfect.

I didn't hear back from Jeannie until 18h00 (6:00PM) Tuesday before we left work to head home.  She had been swamped with her new responsibilities as interim VP for Africa the entire day and hadn't an opportunity to look at the report.  To make matters worse, she was leaving for Namibia in the morning so wouldn't have anything back to me until sometime Wednesday afternoon.  The likelihood of making the trip to Amsterdam seemed to be in jeopardy.  Within a matter of hours I went from being elated to be going to Amsterdam to the disappointment of missing the biggest weekend of the year there.

The bad news was it looked more and more like I would not get the feedback on the report back in time to make the flight to Johannesburg to connect to the flight to Amsterdam.  The good news was that I had a back up plan to go with my friend Simone to Harare, Zimbabwe for the weekend international arts and entertainment festival there should the Amsterdam trip not materialize.  I'd be lying if I didn't say I was bummed not to be making the trip to Amsterdam and in my obsessive way couldn't stop thinking about how I could make the last flight out of Lusaka to Johannesburg that would allow me to connect to the only flight Wednesday to Amsterdam.

The report was not forthcoming and I watched the clock on Wednesday as the minutes passed turning into hours and the hour past 13h40 and my last opportunity to get to my party weekend past.  I resolved myself to the fact I'd miss getting to Amsterdam and focused my thoughts on a great weekend ahead in a place I had never been enjoying Harare's festival.  I sent Simone a text saying simply "Zim?" and passed the rest of Wednesday looking for accommodation in Harare and flights for Simone and I to get there and back.

To make a long story short the plans for the arts and entertainment festival in Harare also fell through.  For a guy who is used to doing things his way and making things happen usually on a whim (especially when it comes to traveling and having a good time) I was bummed.  I was determined to make something happen by going to Harare alone, but without a vehicle here of my own and what was now a $650 airline ticket on Air Zimbabwe (had I made an 'application' the day prior Air Zimbabwe would have provided me a reduced rate ticket) my chances to get away for the weekend were foiled.

Wednesday night I was invited by Nicholas to join his Dad at his "Primary Years Program Exhibition" at the American International School in Lusaka.    The kids prepared during the course of their entire primary education for this event.  They chose a theme (in this case recycling) and a topic ('Finding a Balance') and through research, song, dance, interviews and multi-media presentations they explained everyone's role and responsibility in sustaining the planet.  It was such an impressive presentation for a group of fifth graders!  No doubt the kids of expats get a great education.

Despite the travel disappointments it was a good weekend here in Lusaka.   I finished the report Friday afternoon and got out of the office a little after 16h00.  Kathleen and Al were hosting a dinner party on Friday night at their place so I made a stop at the Manda Hill Shoprite before heading home for some wine and other provisions to take to the party and for the weekend

What was planned as a pizza party became a BBQ for 25.  I made my guacamole which has now become a hit among my new circle of friends.  It was a great evening.  I met a family from Tacoma and had some great conversations throughout the evening.

I started my weekend Saturday morning with my usual run through Kabulonga neighborhood and was perched on my lounge chair at the pool shortly thereafter.  I took a break from my sunbathing to join Al and Kathleen at the Dutch Reform Church Market that is held on the last Saturday of each month.  The market is a treat for the senses with unforgettable sights, sounds and smells.  There are food vendors grilling, frying, steaming and otherwise preparing incredible Chinese, Indian, Mexican and African foods, among others.  There is even fresh, locally made cheeses.  Artists display their art and vendors show off wood and stone carvings, jewelery, sewing and other wares both Zambian and from throughout Africa.  I loaded up on some local cheeses and some tortillas and fresh salsa thinking about mixing up some more guacamole for dinner.  Avocados are found everywhere here in Zambia and grow in huge mature trees.  They are a dime a dozen here and their availability is a decadence and luxury of living here!

When I got home I asked Davies (the gardener) if he could harvest some avocados for me from a huge tree in the yard.  He gladly agreed, fetched a ladder, removed his shoes and began climbing high into the tree.  He picked a couple and I told him to drop them and that I would catch them so they did not bruise when hitting the ground.  Did I mention how large and heavy these avocados are?  The first one was dropped and instead of catching it the way I thought I could, it hit my little finger and, well, hurt it.  I knew immediately with the sound, sight and feeling that a bruised avocado would have been better than a broken finger.  I immediately pulled on the tip of my finger to make sure it was in place and began to bend it.  I didn't think it was broken until I woke up on Sunday and my finger was swollen in place.  The damn avocados weren't even ripe.

Mike and I continued our West Wing marathon late into Saturday night.  What a great show!  Not being one for TV I can say it is probably the best TV I have ever watched!  We're well into season 3 now and I look forward to perching in front of the set every night with Mike to get an episode or two in.  Jeannie returned from Namibia Saturday night and we sat up talking about her trip.

Jeannie and I had a run on Sunday morning.  I always feel so much more inspired to run when Jeannie is home.  It is good to have someone to run with and to set the pace a bit faster than normal.  I hit the lounge chair again for a couple of hours listening to podcasts of NPR shows.  Mike, Nicholas and I went for a hair cut and to do some shopping for an impromptu Sunday afternoon BBQ and yard party.  Al, Kathleen and the girls came over and Michael, Diana and their kids also joined in.  I felt in my element preparing food for our end of the weekend feast.  I so enjoy being with these people and feel so fortunate that they have welcomed me so warmly and lovingly into their circle.  It was a beautiful day!

Though the weekend was not what I anticipated it was lovely all the same.  I don't feel as though I am having so many 'adventures' as much as I am simply living an ordinary daily life here.  Things are normal and ordinary as though I were at home and I am beginning to feel I am.  Nice.

I am off to the doctor to have an x-ray of my finger and to find out just what kind of damage that falling avocado has done.  Keep your fingers crossed (no pun intended) it isn't too screwed up.

Thanks for reading!

Simply Sunday in Lusaka

It will be two weeks tomorrow that I arrived back in Zambia for another stint with Pact and to enjoy time with my new circle of friends here.  It is Sunday in the late morning here, breakfast is digesting, little Nicholas is reading his Archie comic book on the couch and I have decided to write.  Outside, the wind is blowing and it is overcast, a marked change from the past two weeks.


The trip back to Lusaka was uneventful but damn long.  There was a 7 hour layover in London and I thought to get a day room to rest, shower and have a change of clothes.  I made my way to the Sofitel Hotel in British Airways' Terminal Five at Heathrow to find a day room would set me back $180.  Living the life of a volunteer (though it is never a problem to justify being comfortable) I decided not to get the room.  Instead, I was told there is a spa in the basement of the hotel.  I went there immediately and for $100 I was able to stay for my entire ground time where I soaked in a jacuzzi, re-hydrated, rested in a meditation room, sat in a steam, took an hour long massage, showered and changed clothes for my flight to Lusaka.  It was very civilized.  I had the spa to myself.

I had a great transition back to Zambia when I arrived on the 12 April.  Tim's driver, Moses, collected me at the airport and dropped me at Jeannie and Mike's where I was greeted by Blessed (housekeeper extraordinaire) and Davies ('3G' guard, gatekeeper, gardener extraordinaire).  The dogs, Marely & Scooby and the little kitty, Valentina were also on hand for my welcome.

I unpacked and got organized and by 11:00 AM found myself curled up on my bed telling myself 'maybe I'll just take a little nap'.  I know better but couldn't help myself.  Within moments I was crashed out and did not gather myself until nearly 18h00 (6:00PM).  Not good.  Al came by to collect Nicholas and I for dinner at his and Kathleen's place.  Jeannie had gone to Paris to meet her mom and sister for the week and Mike was in the second week of his trip to the States to visit his kids in North Carolina. 

I was Uncle Tom for the week getting Nicholas up and ready for school, making lunches and dinners and administering the 'no screen days' on Mondays and Wednesdays when TV, DS, wii and the computer are off limits.  Nicholas is quick to say this only applies if 'his mom isn't here'.  Good kid.

I spent most of the first week back working from home on the Semi-Annual Report due to Pact HQ and to USAID by the end of April.  I felt good about the progress I was making between short slumbers next to the pool under the warm but intense fall African sun.  I ran each morning and felt like I was getting back into the rythm of life here.

Mike arrived back on that Friday night to a house full of people.  Al had come for dinner and was going to pick Mike up at the airport.  His wife Kathleen and Kate, a CARE UK program manager, joined us for a glass of wine after their movie.  Their daughter Mariel (16) and boyfriend Scott joined us after hanging out at 'Arcades' (the 'mall' here in Lusaka) too.

The only two times I have golfed in my life have been here in Zambia.  Denver, a US Embassy employee on temporary assignment in Iraq who is home for a visit with his family still living here in Zambia, joined Mike, Al and I for an early morning 18 holes.  I can't decide whether I like golf or hate it.  On the one hand it is difficult trying to get all the elements down of a good swing (without which the ball goes nowhere near the green) and constantly having to look for the ball in the rough.  At one point someone said 'hey Tom, you're on the green...of the last hole!'  On the other hand it is nice to be outside at a peaceful time of the day walking the course with friends.

Jeannie was stranded in Paris because of the volcano eruption for five additional days.  We kept in touch by email and Skype trying to determine when she might finally make it home.  Mike and I spent our evenings making a dent in the 'West Wing' DVD set.  How did I ever miss such a good series?  I am not one to watch TV, but this is the best TV series I have ever seen!

We all settled in to watch the movie 'Up in the Air' a few nights ago when we saw the kitten jump up from seated position on the floor close to the TV.  She started batting something about on the floor.  That something started to move on its own in a slithering manner "SNAKE!" "SNAKE!".  If you could have seen Mike and I.  We were like cartoon characters portrayed as trembling and hugging each other after seeing a monster.  Jeannie started to use her foot to push the snake toward the door.  'Careful!, what if it is poisonous?'  Mike kept yelling 'Jeannie!, Jeannie!' I went back and forth between laughing at Mike and laughing at Jeannie taking charge to get the snake out of the house.  Mike wanted the snake dead, I kept saying 'no, no, you can't kill it!' as Jeannie got the snake to the grass and it slithered away into the night.  They say they haven't seen snakes at the house before.  A couple of days later I saw one crossing the path between the house to the pool.  Needless to say, I have not told Mike about my sighting. 

I have returned to Zambia this time with a different outlook on my future in the international development field.  This outlook is based on remaining 'present' each and everyday I am here and not future tripping into areas and issues out of my control.  I had placed a lot of pressure on myself during my last stay here insisting that I had to find a job immediately and when I couldn't secure anything doubting my abilities and dreams.  That frame of mind was disastrous for my morale and totally detrimental to my happiness.  Recognizing this, I have taken a step (maybe several steps) back to re-evaluate, re-focus and re-commit myself to 'happiness, first'.  This came to mind when I was on Skype and I quickly used it as my profile statement.

I have learned a lot about life and work in international development since arriving in Africa back in August of 2009.  The ideas I had about living overseas, working in this field and doing my part to help the human condition were based more in fantasy and what I 'thought it would be like' rather than the realities that define international development.  International development is big business with organizations vying for government and private funding.  The field is staffed by highly intelligent, trained professionals who know the nuts and bolts of development from programmatic, monitoring and evaluating, grants and finance, among other, perspectives.  There are strict contractual requirements (reporting) to meet to keep donors happy and tedious site visits to ensure local partners are complying with program requirements.  All of this far from my initial idealistic desires and fantasy induced notions to 'do good' or 'make a difference' in the world by feeding a hungry child or protecting an abused woman.  I am still not certain where this whole experience may lead but I am enjoying the journey now more than focusing on where it may or may not lead.  I know I can do this work and I hope someday I have an opportunity to do so.

I've also recognized how fortunate I am to even be here and writing this story.  How many people can take months away from a career while still being fully employed and seek out new opportunities and a mid-career change on another continent?  For my friends and colleagues at Alaska who have listened to me complain about my job I can imagine their surprise at this recent revelation of mine.  I have it good.  In fact, I have it great.  'Chrissy, can you hear me"?

Jeannie returned to Lusaka with news that there are major organizational changes occurring with Pact.  In the course of these changes she has been promoted to interim VP for Africa.  This means, she will be overseeing all Pact offices in Africa.  She is so deserving of this promotion.  It comes at a time when the Pact office in Zambia is preparing to close out its operations permanently and everyone on staff is busy looking for a new job.  I am in awe of Jeannie's knowledge, energy and commitment to her work.  She is a hard worker who spends nearly 11 hours a day at work and is often working in the evenings from home and occasionally on the weekends.  She immediately assumed her new role last week after the announcement which now means she is focused on her duties as VP but she still has to remain as chief of party of the Zambia office through the close out.  I told her I would help her anyway I can during this big transition.

I will continue to apply for jobs on the multitude of development web sites, enjoy my time here, day-by-day, and plan some weekend trips to see more of the country in the event I find myself leaving here in July.  My life is rich and filled with interesting, loving people around me in a place where I learn something new everyday.

Thanks for reading.

A Hungry Man

The guard called to my desk from the main gate at work yesterday.  "Sir", he said, "I am hungry and I have nothing to eat.  I have only 20,000 kwacha (Zmk) and need another 20,000 to get a bag of mealie meal" (a flour that mixes into nshima the staple for all Zambians).  Before this call I had never spoken to Leonard.  I always wave and smile to him as he salutes Jeannie and I when we arrive or depart the office.  I was shocked and didn't know quite what to say.  I told him I was sure there was something I could do.  I spoke to Muule my office partner to get some information about Leonard.  "He doesn't drink and he is a good man with a family.  He lives int he shanty compound", she said.  I had Muule call Leonard to get more information.  She told me he was out of money because it was getting to be the end of the month (it is only the middle of the month) and that he was able to borrow the 20,000 kwacha (about US$4.50)he had from his sister over the weekend.  Muule and I went to Shoprite and I collected a 25kg sack of mealie meal, a bottle of cooking oil (both good for a month of eating), a cooked piece of chicken and some fries and returned back to the office.  Leonard was beside himself with relief and showed great appreciation.  A working man (does this tell you something about the wages in Zambia?) in the middle of the month hadn't even enough borrowed money to feed himself or his family.  He was desperate enough to call someone he didn't even know for help.  There are a lot of sad things going on in this world but this one presented itself to me.  Not everyone is in their position because they don't care or are lazy; it is because they have no way out.  I learned a beautiful life lesson from Leonard yesterday that made me realize to sit back and do nothing is not an option.  I am a very lucky man.