Quarter Century Village Bday

It’s official. I am twenty-five, a quarter century old, my mid-twenties, or as I like to call it, my prime. Part of me still feels like I am 21 but when I think about where I was when I was 21 I retract my statement and push it to 22 and then I continue to do that same process until I get to 25. Twenty five I guess is kind of a big deal because any five year mark is 15, 20, 25, 30, oh my! I know the question that is on everyone’s mind, how did I spend my big 2-5? In the perfect way, surrounded by people I love in a place called home.

Last year I had wanted to spend my birthday in my village with my best friend Tiffany, my kids and lots of rain. However one of those inevitable workshops came up last minute so it was spent in our provincial house instead. It was wonderful and everyone treated me like a queen but part of me missed my village on my special day.

This year I was set on having a village birthday and even better I have gained two more amazing close friends that have come in the past year (that’s one of the cool parts of PC with every group that leaves, another one comes). So my closest PC neighbor Katie, my first friend in country, Tiffany and my newest friend, Mollie made the long trek out to Kalaba bringing lots of treats with them.

My birthday was perfect in every way. The morning started with Tiff (who is from Cali) taking me back to my southern roots by making biscuits and eggs. Then there were some intense games of Rummy and scrabble with wonderful phone calls from friends and family in the states intermittent throughout the day. The “party” started around 14:00 (might sound early but consider that we were also sleeping by 21:00) with my friends passing out party hats and blowers to my kids and me (the kids are still blowing those horns two days later and will be until they can blow no more). We took a wonderful walk to my dambo, which is one of those vast expanses that define Zambian beauty. After some birthday pictures, the rest of the day was spent dancing with my kids, teaching them American dances and mostly reverting back to my 5 year old inner child. The night finished with a delicious Mexican feast prepared by all (but mostly Tiffany) and blowing out candles on a cake Katie made me that morning. After some perfect cards, incredible presents and an arousing game of banana grams, we called it a night.

I didn’t have electricity or running water for my birthday. I didn’t go to a bar or club like I would have in the States (although the girls were kind enough to bike out some wine from town) but I was surrounded by people who I have grown with in one way or another over these past 20 months and have become my family here. This will be my last birthday in Zambia and writing that down is hard and brings up a mixture of emotions that I can’t put into words. However wherever I am on my 26, 36, and 50^th birthday I will always look back on my 25^th as one of the best. Surrounded by the bare necessities, but feeling like the most loved girl in the world.

Adventures of a Muzungu

First I want to apologize for not writing for a while. I have still been writing but the internet at our provincial house has been out for months so I have to post these at an internet cafe in town. This blog was actually written in January right after I got back from the States. Hope you enjoy!

This weekend I went on an adventure. It’s been a little over two weeks since I returned from the land of plenty and I am happy to say I am back to my dirty Peace Corps ways. My friend convinced me if I didn’t wash my hair for 3 weeks my thick curly hair of my past would return to its “natural state” . I am at week 2 and can comfortable say I look like a wet rat. But hey, when else will I be able to get away with looking like I constantly just bathed while simultaneously being filthy ever again? Anyway, lets get back to my adventure.

My friend Matt has been inviting me to his village for a while now and a few months ago he set off and found a bush path from his site to mine. However there was one difference to the usual bush paths that us, PCV’s find between our sites, this one involves a boat! You have to cross Mansa river to get from my village to Matt’s. So Friday morning I set off ready to bike and boat my way to Matt’s. We figured it’s about 30k (2-2/12 hour bike), which is a pretty standard distance for us bike-loving hippies. The journey there was quite lovely. Especially because I found out my counterparts village was about half way. I stopped at his for a delicious home cooked meal and a visit with any favorite namesake (his youngest is named after me and was born shortly after I arrived). It is amazing to see how much she has grown. It’s been two months since I’ve seen her and she is walking like a mad woman now! She is a year and 2 months and is turning into a real person right in front of my eyes. I realized on this last visit that she is the first person I have ever seen progress from birth to now and it’s a pretty amazing process. She will be one of the hardest to leave in September. However again I digress, back to my adventure…

After I was full on Nshima, Ba Shaderick informed me that the river was only about 1 kilometer from his house so he escorted me there where we found a nice young man who was also crossing and therefore would become my gondola operator and best friend. Mulenga (my new best friend) I learned was visiting his parents on the other side of the river where he also attends school. Mulenga and I “board” the large canoe where both our bikes and us fit comfortably and Mulenga “paddles” me across (and by paddle I mean dig a large stick into the muddy water and push us across, while standing, hence the gondola reference). The boat ride can only be described as incredible (probably because Mulenga was doing all of the work). We chatted, I enjoyed the beautiful lily pads and vast nothingness that defines the African bush, and we arrived safely on the other side 20 minutes later. From there I just kept asking people the name of Matt’s village and if I was going the right way and they graciously kept helping. About an hour later I was in Matt’s “sub-boma” (a string of shops that isn’t a quite a town but where you can find basics like sugar, salt and my favorite, rolls). Matt met me there and then showed me the way to his village about 12k away. I made it!! However the story only really starts here. Matt’s village was nice. We made a delicious pasta dinner with fresh basil from his garden (he has inspired me to make a garden purely for basil) and chatted about everything Peace Corps. The next day we were lucky enough to be joined by our friend Bob who came with eggs for breakfast (eggs plus rolls plus basil, what more could a girl want!). We had a wonderful breakfast and then I decided to get back on the “road” aka bush path. Matt has told me there was a short cut from his village to mine on another bush path so I decided to try that way. Adventure weekend, why not?

I was off again.. Matt told me I would pass a chicken co-op on my way and just to ask the way from there. Therefore when I came upon a large structure in the middle of nowhere filled with chickens, I knew I was headed in the right direction. What Matt failed to mention (probably bc he came to my site during dry season) was this short cut was VERY wet and muddy which makes biking slightly more difficult. Anyway, about an hour and a pound of mud later I arrived at the river. I made it.. kind of.. There was one problem, there was nobody there to man the boat (where are you now Mulenga?) and the boat was 30% filled with water. Yes, this is what I call adventure, I look around and there is NOBODY for as far as the eye can see. Hmm. Decision time. Let’s put those PC “life skills” to use. I remembered a few huts a little far back where I’m sure I can find somebody to help. I back peddled a little and came up to a very old Zambian woman with her children and tell her my problem. She sends me with a little boy to find the headman who is in charge of the boat. We get to the headman’s house and his wife says he is in the field but will send a kid to get him in her typical Zambian way she offers me a seat and we chat. She has 8 children, 7 girls and 1 boy and currently her girl is next to me petting a dead rat (I try not to gag). Eventually the headman comes and says he will paddle me across. Hallelujah! We get to the boat and he buckets out most of the water but I notice a small leak where water is still coming out. He assures me its fine but to make my America neurotic self feel better I continue heaving buckets of water out while he paddles me. This time there are also three other boys with their bikes (so 5 people, 4 bikes, ¼ of water) makes the boat ride not quite as lovely as my previous ride but still an experience. We make it to the other side and an hour and a half later I arrive in Kalaba. Tired, sun burnt and slightly dehydrated but I made it home. Oh and I forgot to mention I had promised my closest PC neighbor I would bike to her site for dinner. So it was time to chug water, bathe the mud off me and shove a cliff bar down my throat (thanks for those mom) and I was on my bike again. Luckily this bike is only 10k (about 45 minutes) away. Well of course dark clouds and a fierce windstorm come out of nowhere just to test how much my legs could take. Luckily the rain held off and I finally arrived to a delicious batch of chili, cornbread and Mango cobbler. It’s wonderful having a neighbor who can cook!! Thank you for that meal Jerrica, you are a life savor. We had a lovely evening and this morning the wind and rain cooperated and I got back to my village safe and sound.

This weekend I probably tried to squeeze a little too much adventure in 2 days. However I’ve got to say I enjoyed every second of it. It’s these little adventures that remind me why I love this country so much. Smiling faces greeting me in every village, new friends made in a short boat ride and PC friends who are just as crazy and dirty as me. Peace Corps, it really is the best.