Updates

The last few weeks...

I think I had a parasite… a few days of not nice diarrhoea. I am done with trying to diagnose myself using my traveller health book. Giardia? Bilharzia? Who knows. 

After one night of fever, sweating, and chill, I thought I had malaria. Thank goodness I don't. Although still not sure about the whole parasite situation.

Africa Freedom Day long weekend - ran away to an island in the Zambezi river. Just me and a few friends in our huts/tents relaxing with books and beers. Contemplated hunting the hippo that kept us awake at night, but getting chomped by a hippo not so appealing.

Back to civilization… and work. Plugging away at my manual to help school communities mobilize past planning. I'm compiling a bunch of already existing material for my organisation and hopefully making a summarized activity based programme for communities. Every time people attend workshops, I see them come away with manuals, which no one actually uses. So, I'm not wasting my time on a manual, but fun diagrams and activities… or so I think. Makes me think of summer camp.

Blah blah blah

Oh, what of Lusaka… in my holy shit, I have malaria state (No worries, I don't!), I let myself indulge in thinking about the gathering of foreigners/expats/whatever we call ourselves.

There's something about inability to classify relationships here. How exactly does someone like me become friends with a middle-aged gem dealer/lion hunter/aspiring surfer. I have a feeling the relationship is unequal because I can only manage one slash tops in my description. I not sure what Western context would allow such an interaction to take place. Sometimes unlikely, but highly entertaining friendships just form. Some of them last a week. Some for a little bit longer unless the person leaves. And, some enter a zone of we're just here together. The people who are here for a while, but not staying forever are the ones that save me from sinking into actual despair because regardless what our jobs are, we all face the same frustrations. Who you are, what you've done in your past life, and even what you do now, do not really matter. On a very basic level, it is about two foreigners being able to relate on Western terms in a place where some days you feel like you haven't communicated with anyone. 

What is it about expats being drawn to other expats. Even though I'm hardly sure if I have any true Zambian friends, I still think that genuine friendship can still form over cultural divides. I have plenty of Zambian acquaintances through work. It is always a pleasure to speak with parents and teachers. The gardeners and fruit sellers around my office are wonderful. They notice everything. It's kind of scary, stalker-like, but thoughtful at the same time. I got an extra banana from the fruit seller who hadn't seen me for a week. I also have the amazing opportunity to work with some rural communities and it is always impressive how much communication can happen with very little words. Greeting by clasping my hands a few times and slightly bowing (actually more just knee bending) earns me uncanny respect and even more underserved authority. Then, there is satisfaction of finally understanding a snippet of Zambian humour. Even with the glimmer of connecting with people, I want more.

What I want are conversations that are meaningful on Western standards. Is that selfish? Outside of discussions for work, I don't think I've managed to get past "how are you?" I often feel my brain humming away trying to come up with things to keep a conversation going. Are there any more ways to ask a question to incite any kind of response? Is there a perspective that may make this discussion easier? I'm not making much effort these days in learning the local language, but even so I think there is a depth of conversation I can never reach. So, at the end of the day anyone who understands me even a little bit is good company. I don't have to edit out humour and sarcasm (and swearing) that may not translate. It seems that when expats get together, especially those working in development, we are using each other to connect with the things that we miss. I know I miss those insanely long conversations where every little point is analysed to no end. Coming home after a long frustrating day of work and being able to have a familiar conversation feels like leaning into a hug. To have someone put their arms around you and make you feel safe, so that for a moment, you can just let everything go. As much as I avoid being a full participant in the Lusaka expat social scene, from time to time I know I need interactions for which I have a frame of reference.

Oh, community schools...

I spent part of last week in the Copperbelt – a province that borders with the Democratic Republic of Congo. We (my colleagues and I) have some communication with the schools that we support in this province from the national office in Lusaka, but it is always challenging to get an accurate picture of what is actually happening on the ground. 

There are two predominant cities/towns in the Copperbelt – Kitwe and Ndola. They are mining towns and the majority of people settled here work for the mines. Not surprisingly, the road between Lusaka and the Copperbelt are the nicest I've seen in Zambia – paved, relatively pothole free, and with lanes and shoulders. A lot of development can come from the mines. The employment that mines provide is an obvious advantage, but they can also play a part in community infrastructure. I was also in awe of the size of the power grips supplying energy from Lake Kariba dam to the mines. Years ago, when the government used to own mines, they also provided housing, health care, education, post-secondary scholarships. Nowadays, Zambia is not benefiting the way it should or could from the mines. The government bends over backwards to attract foreign investors (very few restrictions, free electricity, etc) and copper is exported out, only to have processed copper imported back to Zambia. You don't have to be an economist to scratch your head.

Like Lusaka, Kitwe and Ndola have their share of shanty compounds. The ones we spent visited seemed less dense, but people did not seem anymore well off. There are ten community schools in the Copperbelt that my organisation supports in one way or another – school infrastructure, teacher and community training, and educational materials. I have been trying to implement some kinds of community needs assessment system to help my organisation plan what kind of support the schools actually need. This will also help coordinate what kind of assistance schools can benefit from other organisations. The provision of teaching materials has been very ad hoc. For instance, organisations buy books for whatever subject they feel like from year to year. Another health organisation may give 50 HIV/AIDS workbooks for grade 10 students to a school that only goes up to grade 7. It is understandable that schools want all the support they can get, but the schools and communities need to be part of the process of figuring out what is needed. Moreover, there is little assessment of what happens after the delivery of the materials. How long do the books last? Did an increase in books actually improve the student to book ratio or did the books just sit in the supply room? 

It is also becoming an increasing concern that a few of the schools we work with are not actually schools. That is, the schools exist for the community to get support from NGOs and donors. I would imagine most organisations deal with the issue of people selling resources/materials they have been given for money. What can we do with teachers who sell the textbooks for pocket money? Of the ten schools, my boss and I probably witnessed teaching and learning happening at three schools. Yet, teachers will assure us that their enrolment is normally much higher. One school records enrolment at over 500 pupils, but most days classes are only around 20 students, so 20 times 7 classes only makes 140 tops. There is a belief that the more student you report, the more materials and resources you will be given.

The management and operation of community schools needs constant monitoring. My organisation feels strongly about building up the capacity of communities to effectively manage their schools. It is a long-term commitment that we do not realise how much regular input is required. Each school had a head teacher and each cluster of schools has a zone committee, but even with those structures in place, being on the ground to see and hear things directly is essential. We want the community schools to be self-sustaining. However, I feel more and more these days that our concept is just good in theory. Some of the most successfully operated community schools in Zambia are the ones run by Catholic nuns. Too many factors can compromise a community school. i.e. to meet individual and household needs, teachers, parents and anyone else associated with the school will use school resources or materials. One community school recently sold their donated roofing sheets, so now the latrines have no roofing sheets.

However, community school do exist to fill a gap in the Zambia's education system and when you look for it quality education is happening. UNICEF Zambia recently reported that if Zambia is to achieve the millennium development goal of universal primary education (quite possibly the only MDG that might be attainable), education provided in community schools play a huge role. Is having materials and resources misused just a small by-product in supporting those who do actually benefit from our support. My sense is that people know that donors will always come, so selling a book once in a while for a few extra kwacha will not really ever seriously impact the school. We certainly keep supporting schools that have obviously mismanaged and misappropriated materials. So, what to do?

An HIV Picture

One of my placement objectives is to mainstream HIV and AIDS activities into my organisation’s programmes. So far some approaches include sessions on HIV prevention and ARV treatment in teachers’ training workshops, youth peer education groups, and using school open houses as opportunities to link communities to VCT (voluntary counselling and testing) programmes. I’ve been involved with HIV prevention education for a variety of audiences, so I’m familiar with the usual introduction: What is HIV? What are the modes of transmission? What factors increase risk? In projects I’ve work with in Canada, there seemed to be a sense that the disease didn’t really refer to us and no one was particular worried about contracting HIV. What is starting to occur to me here is how close a connection everyone has to HIV.

We’ve all heard the statistics on HIV rate in sub-Saharan Africa – as high as 1 in 4 adults is infected in some areas. The average life expectancy in Zambia is now around 35 years old. An indicator in the Human Development Index (2004) measures severe health deprivation by calculating the probability of not surviving past the age of 40 – in Zambia, the probability is 60%. What this means in real life is regular funerals. In the little over five months in Zambia, I have been aware of the deaths of four teachers from schools that my organisation supports. I have also been to two funerals. Before coming to Zambia, I had only ever attended two funerals in my whole life. As my relationship develops with colleagues and friends, I am realizing the extent of the toll of HIV. Everyone has a connection to the disease. Someone in the family is infected. Someone is taking care of children whose parents have died. People take time off from work to take care of family members or attend funerals. People come down with pneumonia and no one is sure whether we will see them again. Outside of my work, I hear the stories as well. A few weeks ago, a guard lost his sister and yesterday, I heard that my tailor’s son died. Probably not all these deaths were as a result of HIV, but there is a good chance they were. I find it shocking that people will never say this person died from HIV. It just goes to show how high the stigma is. Yes, technically it is a whole slew of other opportunities infection and illnesses that kill the person, but very, very few people will say the word AIDS. However, everyone assumes. How could you not when the person is in their 20/30s and rail thin.

While I still strongly believe that prevention through comprehensive life skills based education is important, I also believe that testing and treatment programmes must be increased. At the same time of prevention young people from becoming infected, the caregivers of the young people must also be kept alive. Making treatments more accessible and available will also breakdown the stigma of HIV. I wonder if I will ever be able to ask someone straight out whether they have HIV. My worry is that the person probably assumes they’re positive, but has never actually been tested. No matter how many HIV programmes are in place, the pandemic cannot be slowed down without good leadership and coordination. Government and community leaders as well as church leadership can do a lot in passing on the correct information and promoting testing and treatment. Instead, incorrect and superstitious information float around. A Zambian paper published an article last month on how the Americans have a cure for AIDS, but are withholding it. There are so many facets to the HIV pandemic. I am acutely aware of how poverty increases one’s vulnerability to the disease, but I am convinced that sound prevention education can play a role.

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Stephanie Nolen, my Globe and Mail hero has a new book, 28: Stories of AIDS in Africa. The Globe and Mail website had some excerpts from the book; they seem to have since made them subscription only, but this video should work.

Alive in Zambia

It is yet another typical sunny Sunday afternoon – sitting in my backyard under a giant blue sky filled with fluffy white clouds, eating an orange, with my laundry blowing in the wind. I'm feeling content. While not much has changed in my life since last week, I think I've had a lot of time to think about what I want to do. I now have a plan: stay if certain things happen; don't stay if it doesn't.

For most of the week, I was facilitating a Lusaka zone teachers' workshop consisting of all the teachers from the community schools we support in Lusaka. I am generally disgruntled when it comes to workshops here, but since the focus of this particular workshop was planning what teachers will do in their schools, I am hopeful that something will actually come out of it. It was a significant moment when a teacher stood up and said to fellow teachers that they know what to do and the disconnect is the actually doing. We talked about everything from why teachers do not write lesson plans to why teachers do not follow up on disclosure of child abuse. Countless workshops have iterated the procedures for both, but maybe this time addressing motivations and practicing the steps may make at least a few teachers put things into action.

Some memorable comments for me from the workshop:
-You must eat your cupcakes! (Because four cupcakes were budgeted per person per day (don't ask me why), I accumulated a lot of cupcakes after three days, which I smuggled out and gave to the guards and miscellaneous children in my compound.)
- I can write my lessons, but do not.
- I am motivated to plan my lesson when you are here. You should marry me and I will always write my lesson!
- I will come to your office on Monday and bring the money to marry you.
- I thank God for this workshop and God bless you! (In which case, God owes me money for talk time and photocopying).

I think I've been thinking a lot more about what makes me happy here and while I'm currently feeling the contented lazy kind of happy, I wouldn't mind a few moments of being deliriously happy. This, I think is a sign I need a vacation. So, what is special about living and working in Zambia? After all, it was completely my decision. I had a dream that I went to sleep in Zambia and woke up in suburban Canada, driving an SUV, with a golden retriever in backseat, and buying Costco (wholesale) sized products. I wanted to drive away to the distant mountainous horizon, but I wasn't allowed to change my path and the SUV had a voice that kept asking me why I would want to leave my suburban dream. I think if I could think of a complete opposite to my life now, it would be that. I appreciate what a suburban life in Canada offers – it's conveniences and comforts. For a brief moment this morning, I was secretly wishing for a Shopper's Drug Mart so I could buy new lip gloss. What it comes down to is the chance to experience a certain unpredictability and intensity of everyday life here. 

It is not one of the other for me. For now, I am happy for the opportunity to be in Zambia. Simple experiences like walking down the street can suddenly turn into so much more – good and bad. I found this scrawled in a notebook. I'm can't recall when or where I copied it down, but I am finding it profoundly true here: 

People say that we're searching for the meaning of life. I don't think that is it at all. I think that what we're seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purest physical plane will have resonances within our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive.

May 1

I realise I’ve been off the blogging radar for a little bit. I’m still working with my organisation, but have now come to full realisation that my placement is not really working. The major epiphany of last week is that my placement objectives are not possible without the involvement of my colleagues. It sounds simple, but admitting that to myself has taken this long. If my colleagues do not actually want to engage with me, anything I may contribute is not sustainable. While I think I have put myself out there to build relationships with my colleagues, I have doubts whether we will ever reach a point where we are actually working together. I’ve even wracked my brain wondering whether I am capable of working with others. As the only non-Zambian member of the organisation, I believe there is an expectation for me to do things – do the trainings, write the manuals, getting proposals funded, organise workshops, etc. However, here’s the catch, building the capacity of the organisation requires not only the involvement, but also the commitment of my colleagues. What good is it for me organising a teacher’s workshop, when I do not have at least one colleague working with me through the entire process. The bigger realisation is that no amount of committed and effort on my part will make my placement work unless the organisation is equally serious about seeing the objectives through.

With all that said, what’s new with me?

-- What is not new is my wardrobe. I am tired of all my clothes. I think I actually have a work clothes rotation so that I don’t even have to think about what I should wear. I need new shoes as well. For the past few months, I’ve been meaning to go to the second hand clothes/shoes market on the weekend. Apparently, with a bit of perseverance, digging through piles of used goods may find you decent new-ish used items. However, when Saturday morning rolls around, the last thing I want to go is get up and jump on a minibus to dig through piles. A lot of used clothing here comes from Canada/US and I have definitely seen little league sport jerseys. I think I passed a guy in a Brampton Cubs t-shirt yesterday… as in Southern Ontario Brampton? The poor guy was probably wonder why I was starting at him.

--It’s getting colder. We have beautiful day time highs of 30C, but it usually drops to 10-15C during the evening. I feel so un-Canadian saying this, but I’ve had to put on long sleeves and my woolly socks in the evening. I’ve also been wearing my fleece vest in the mornings. This morning, I was wishing I had my puffy down vest. When have I ever worn anything fleece or down filled above 0C temperatures? I think describing the Calgary winter chinooks phenomenon – all snow melting in one day and Calgarians bringing out the shorts – would be hard to explain. People are even wearing toques now. Come winter in July/August, I’m wondering whether I’ll see a mittens and snowsuits.

--One of the schools we work with has links with an organisation that gets people in the US to sponsor children. As someone who grew up seeing the Sunday morning commercials for sponsoring children, it was fascinating to hear how sponsorship is presented from the developing world side. The person representing that organisation put it this way, “the whites in America will see how the children are living and will want to help to pay for school and medicine. We put pictures of how the children live on the website so they will want to make the house better too.” For the agencies that arrange sponsorships, it is a numbers game. The school got a request for x number of students to support. Yet, it could not be determined whether the sponsorship would continue up to Grade 12.