Romanticizing

I’m writing this on the drive back to Lusaka from visiting schools in Eastern province. A very wet rainy season has turned the landscape very green. Some of the rocky hills look very temping to climb and sit on top. Small villages with straw thatched roofs look picturesque and everything seems simple. I see women with baskets of mushrooms on their heads, people carrying charcoal and chickens by bicycle to market, kids in matching uniforms walking to school, and before I know it, I catch myself romanticizing village life.

Tall green grass, hills, and endless big blue sky is beautiful. Except, there isn’t anything simple about hard work. It is about 7am and there are plenty of people working in the cornfields. Women are carrying ridiculously large loads of vegetables, water, and firewood to use or sell. The kids are not on a field trip, but probably walking the 5 km to school. Single gear bicycles and hills cannot be easy, especially with a giant cage of chicken on the back. I doubt anyone is walking on the road just for kicks. It is about meeting practical, basic need. Part of me is feeling the honesty and pride of hard work. But maybe, all this is coming through my head because I am feeling the guilt of driving past in an air-conditioned vehicle with no idea if anything I do will help get community schools up and running so every child gets the education they deserve.