A Different Take on Tourism

Of day two of our time in Zambia I've little to write, except that I spent most of the day sick in bed.  After a vicious bout of nausea after seeing the hospital, I was sent back to the compound to have a nap while the rest of my group went on with more orientation.  I was disappointed to miss meeting the chieftainess, going to the market, and most of the welcome BBQ, but I really wanted to make a quick recovery so as to be able to go to Kasiwe the following day.  Kasiwe is an 'eco-tourism' village, meaning that they offer tours of their village to visitors, complete with local food, a hike up the nearby mountain, and experiences of their day to day life, such as pounding maize and carrying water on your head.

The following morning I still had little energy, but was determined to go, hoping my nausea would stay under control during the 45 minute land cruiser ride.  When I say ride, picture your and my version of going for a car ride.  Got it?  Now scrap that picture, and instead imagine something akin to offroading, or the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland; we were driving along a dirt road full of bumps and ditches, over hills, and eventually left even that road to simply drive through a field, mowing down stalks that reached our windows.  Being sick, I was fortunate enough to sit in the front.  The rest of the group was piled on two benches facing each other in the back, landing on one another each time we hit a bump.  Seatbelts, of course, were nowhere to be found.

Before you believe the ride was miserable, however, let me add this.  Picture, now, rolling along the Zambian countryside with a cruiser full of friends and a local driver.  The sun is shining down on the yellow fields, the hills are beautiful in the distance, and the radio is playing traditional African music.  And I did not feel nauseous once :)

Upon arrival, we were ushered into a mud hut (no joke) where were were served breakfast and introduced to the village.  Then, while the rest of my team went on the hike, my instructor and I got to visit the health clinic - a building in their village at which they are visited once a month by nurses and nursing students from the Chikankata hospital.  After resting for awhile, I went outside to where all the children and mothers were.  Aside from a greeting, I spoke no Tonga, and they spoke no English.  Yet within minutes, I was sitting against the building, surrounded on all sides by children of all ages who were curious about my hair, my skin, my clothes, my bracelet, my glasses, my camera... basically everything about me was different.  It was a bit of an odd feeling, spending that much time with people without being able to talk, yet kind of neat at the same time.

After returning from the hike and eating lunch (chicken, cooked cabbage-like plant, and their traditional nshima, all eaten with our hands, of course), the rest of the day consisted of playing soccer (football) with the kids, carrying water on our heads, pounding maize, touring the village, and learning to dance like Zambians.  Well, at least they tried to teach us...

For the most part, it was a pretty fun day.  We got to learn about their village, their culture, and some of the problems they faced, but overall I found it to be light and enjoyable.  Towards the end of the day, however, one moment stood out as a reality check, and a hint of the great divide between how we live at home and the lives of the nation to which we had come.  When I think of visiting a tourism village, I imagine one of those heritage villages at home, in which a bit is preserved of how people used to live, complete with people acting as though they really lived there.  In many ways, that is what this village felt like... mud huts, pumping and carrying water, pounding maize... showing us what life in Africa was like.  And much of it was similar to what you'd see on the World Vision channel or documentaries on Africa.  At one point, we were taking pictures outside a tiny mud hut and as the door was sagging, leaving an opening into the hut, I asked if I could take a peek inside.  Their response:  well, that's someone's home...

This hut was tiny.  It was a circular mud building, with a grass roof and the door sagging inwards.  Although I had known it before, it was at this point that it really struck me: this is not some documentary of how people used to live, or a glimpse into the past.  These people were sharing with us how they live today, and what they are trying to overcome.  Before going to Africa, I would say that I was fairly aware of how they live, the struggles they face, and all the basics of life that they lack, which we take for granted.  Yet continually throughout the trip, I was hit by how different it is to sit at home knowing these things intellecturally and to actually experience them.

And so it begins....

Hello again!

It's strange to think that I'll be heading home tomorrow... in some ways it feels like just yesterday that we left, but in other ways it feels so long ago.  Because I wasn't able to update while I was in Zambia, I'll start from the beginning and try to post every day or two as if I was there, for those of you who are interested.

So I shall begin from the beginning.
After about three hours of sleep, four hours of driving, three hours at the airport, a three and a half hour flight, a three and a half hour layover, an eight hour flight, a seven hour layover, and a ten hour flight, I was finally in Zambia!  Local time = 6:30 am.  We didn't slow down much that first day, either.  After breakfast and some grocery shopping, we drove the few hours to Chikankata, in a Salvation Army van with holes in the ground and our luggage on the roof.  It was a little strange arriving in Lusaka, the capital city, and going to a very westernized shopping mall, and then seeing the transition from urban to rural.  It was not uncommon to see people walking along the side of the highway, in what was to us the middle of nowhere.  We soon learned that the people of Zambia who cannot afford a car will walk distances that we in North America would never dream of walking, often with baskets on their heads and/or babies on their backs.

Our accommodations at the seminar centre in Chikankata were a little small, but more than comfortable.  Although I was surprised at how awake I was through all my travels and that first day, it was so glorious to lie down in a real bed for a good night's sleep, all tucked into my bed and mosquito net. Being almost winter in Zambia, it got dark around 6:30 pm and light around 6 am.  This, combined with how exhausted we were each day and the fact that breakfast was served at 6:30 almost every day, forced us all to become obligatory earlybirds... our usual routine involved going to bed anytime between 9 and 10 pm and getting up around 6 am.

Worlds Apart

Hello my friends!

I'm so sorry it's taken this long to post... lesson number one from this trip: do not rely on internet access in rural Africa.  It turns out that the internet access we had was at the local high school, involved a minimal fee, and took about half an hour just to check one or two important emails.  Furthermore, blogger was in German and wouldn't let me post.  So I apologise for the lack of contact, and will do my best to post a couple times in the next few days and then again more frequently when I get home.

We flew into London on May 30, and I will be flying out for home on June 5.  I'm loving London, but in many ways it feels about as polar opposite from Zambia as you can get.  Adjusting to a busy, aloof city is difficult after spending two and a half weeks in a laid-back, friendly mission compound, where showing up 15 minutes after the projected starting time is considered early, and not greeting virtually everyone you pass is considered rude.

I only have a few more minutes of internet time remaining, so I'll leave you with that for now, and a plan to update again in a couple days, when I should get more internet time.
Twalumba,
Cayla