Stuck

Boy oh boy, I'm stuck on what to blog about. I feel stuck. I am really unsure what will happen. Will I stay in Zambia? What would it take for me to stay? How many reasons would I need to leave? A small note: yesterday, I gained some much needed perspective when I sat with some teachers at their staff meeting. It's been one of my "projects" to get weekly staff meetings happening at the schools… the Ministry has a lot of programmes that support teacher training, but it often doesn't go beyond the formal workshops. Since March, I've been working with the teachers to plan their meetings and how the trained teachers can mentor untrained teachers and also how they all can support each other. I know nothing about school administration, but it's about building basic support systems. A lot of the teachers were prepared for the meeting and actually reflected on what we talked about last meeting. I felt really proud of the teachers at this school. Maybe it took months and months of work, but something is happening. More importantly, I could tell that they were proud of their progress. I guess sometimes for me to put all the frustration I have with the organisation in perspective, I need to remind myself of who ultimately I am working for. But hmm… it's not enough. I feel lost and can't seem to get make that big decision. It's just a weird place for me. Sure, I've lost direction in my life before, but for now I am direction less. I am waiting to see what could happen, especially now that the head of the organisation keeps saying that he and other staff are committed to working with me. We'll see. I've probably been stuck for a while, but now it's more profoundly affecting me. I feel unlike the person I think I am. Sometimes I feel like I've lost my smile. I ran into a friend I hadn't seen in a while yesterday; for the briefs moments when I saw him I felt that warm, radiating smiley feeling inside that I hadn't felt in a really long time. It lingered a little bit after he left, but then it faded away and I felt like I am now. Stuck.

Ten random things to fill up space on this blog:

1. I feel like getting a dog. The idea came when I spent a few days in the company of two beautiful, giant dogs. They sure made me feel special… the whole snuggling under my legs won me over. Unfortunately, I can't really take care of a dog right now. It's still a nice thought though.

2. My housemate will be leaving Zambia at the end of July. She's been in Zambia for almost two years and has played a huge role in my life here. I will be sad to see her go. She's the one that always looked out for me here. I will miss our long conversations over enormous cups of tea.

3. I now eat tuna regularly because of my housemate.

4. I need to hang out with friends who will do more than drink. Maybe play scrabble and drink?

5. I'm not allowed to drink for a little bit because I'm on crazy antibiotics for a bladder infection. It sucks – both.

6. I went to a funeral this week. It felt like two because on Monday my colleagues and I went to console the family. On Wednesday was the actual burial. Both were emotionally draining and I don't know how to digest having been to four funerals in seven months.

7. The weather at night is still chilly – between 5–10C would be my guess. Last night I slept in my sleeping bag, in my bed, under the covers.

8. MEC catalogues make me deliriously happy – even in pdf form. I like dreaming about all the camping gear I could get my hands on. Thanks bro!

9. Postcards also bring a bright light to my day. Thanks E!

10. I broke my sunglasses when I carelessly threw them in my bag. Sunglasses are now my security blanket, so I promptly bought another pair. Because the police have cleared out all the little stalls around town, cheap sunglasses are hard to find. But while in a minibus stuck in traffic, some guy who happened to be selling sunglasses came to my window. I now have a giant pair of wrap around D&G shades. I doubt I have the attitude to pull it off, but they'll do until I find a more normal looking pair. I think the sunglasses practically take up almost a third of my face.

So here I am… stuck with a pair of huge, fake D&G shades. I hope you are all well wherever you may be.

The vision?

All of the planning activities I've been doing with my organisation
has brought up many questions about the direction of the organisation.
Is there a direction with the programmes of the organisation? I am
mildly distressed the it is difficult to get people thinking about the
ultimate goal, the vision. There's a written down vision and mission,
but the link on how it guides the organisation's activities is
tenuous. We hold teacher and community training workshops. My
colleagues seem to think that the workshops will continue forever.
Maybe that is the true. But, the workshops are supposed to contribute
to something… like maybe attaining the objective of the workshop. Do
we intend to build schools, drill boreholes, build latrines
indefinitely? Will be also be giving school supplies and textbooks
indefinitely? One of my main objectives is to mainstream HIV/AIDS into
programmes. I hate "in" words like mainstream; people say it because
they think it is what you want to hear. Mainstreaming HIV/AIDS has
been an objective of the organisation for the past five years and no
one seems to have any issue with mainstreaming being part of the next
five year plan. But wait, isn't the goal to mainstream, not to
continue to mainstream. That is once HIV/AIDS is indeed mainstreamed
into programmes, all programmes will included HIV/AIDS in one way or
another. Right now, I seem to be the only once convinced on this.
However, I can understand that with anything it is always easier to
set the goal than to put actions to the goals.

Wanted: a place to go and 2-ply TP

The clearing on the edge of the valley. On a log under the pine tree
in the yard. The bench off the harbour. I think in all the places I've
lived, I've always found places where I could go to think, to read, to
study, to hide, to just be by myself. There were always parks around,
beautiful shady trees, and just somewhere not too far away to sit and
usually let my brain give a stern talking to my heart. I was having
one of those days and really needed a breather. Unfortunately, I don't
really have somewhere to go. The only space I can really control here
is within the walls of my house and once I leave anything could
happen. Sometimes I walk to a neighbourhood down the street from my
place where there is an amazing line of jasmine trees. I'm tempted to
stop every time I pass these trees, but I doubt the guard would let me
loiter outside someone's private property. I jog occasionally, though
I'm still undecided whether it's a worthwhile pastime. The first time
I went for a run, I felt inspired to run everywhere. People still
stare, but the stares don't really penetrate and if anyone says
anything, you don't really hear. One person I mentioned this to said
that it's probably weirder to see a foreigner walking because no one
will believe that you don't have a vehicle, but when you're running,
people assume that you've decided to run. On the down side, sharing
space with speeding cars is dangerous. I've been a little nervous
walking around recently given the number of pedestrians that have
died. But back to the point, is having a place for myself that
important to me? These days, I seem to think it is.

This got me thinking about what do I need (even if they are actually
wants)? There was an exercise that I remember doing in pre-departure
training about our bottom lines – things that we could not give up. On
the projects and trips I've been on before, living out of my backpack
for a few months was acceptable. I mentioned before how I live
relatively well here. My flat could be more warm and inviting, but I'm
not complaining because I am really fortunate to have hot water and a
shower. Nevertheless, when I visit the houses of other expats working
here, it is unbelievable how you could have everything you could want
at home. I spent one beautiful Saturday afternoon just outside of
Lusaka sitting on a veranda, sipping a mint julep, looking out onto an
open field and giant sky. It is like 1 ply vs. 2 ply toilet paper.
Sometimes to save money we buy 1 ply, but why put up with falling
apart toilet paper when you can pay for 2-ply that works better for
the bottom line ;) It's a balance or so I used to think. I'm afraid
I'm crossing the line into buying things that make me happier even
though I don't really need it. It's not entirely clear to me why I
don't want to cross that imaginary line, but I'm sure it's related to
some deluded idea I have that by giving up the comforts of the Western
world, I will somehow be making the world a fairer place. Yup, I am
deluded.

What up?

I know, I know… what up with not blogging. There is stuff coming I
promise. What you might be reading soon are posts on 1 vs. 2-ply
toilet paper, development through play, and the vision. For now I'm
sticking with basic emotions – I feel sad. And now, I'm admitting to
the cyber world that I cried on Friday. I actually came home from work
and bawled. How weird. I don't know if I've ever done that. I felt
good to cry, but then all I wanted was a stiff drink. I'm also tired.
Hurrah, points for me for identifying two basic feelings. I feel sad
and tired. I've temporarily lost the energy to keep trying to get
things to happen with my organisation. Let's hope this passes soon.
I've recently crossed paths with a number of summer interns. I now
remember why I always felt so positive at the end of a short-term
project – you leave on a high. You leave with the feeling that things
can still happen. You're not sure how much you accomplished, but you
sure had fun and learned a lot. You're still enjoying being in a new
place, a new culture. Basically, you leave when you still have the
desire to stay longer. It's like leaving a party when it still
happening; you'll always remember it as a good party even if it
crashed five minutes after you left. I'm starting my eighth month in
Zambia… the high is definitely gone. The reality blows a lot of the
time because letting go of a rosy coloured pictured of development
really gets you down to the real issues.

Alas no fish

Got back yesterday from a fabulous four days on the Kafue River.
Fishing didn't exactly happen, but got lots of sun and reading in. I'm
enjoying my tan and the book won't be leaving my mind anytime soon
(Infidel – read it; we all have an obligation to acknowledge her
story).

Most of the people at this lodge were white South Africans. A lot of
them are doing business with the mines in the Copperbelt. The
camp/lodge seemed to be their chosen place to meet up with family and
friends. It was interesting to be in their company. I think they found
us ridiculous, especially when we said that we had taken a minibus and
then hitched to get to the lodge. Obviously, when you have money, you
can live very well in Africa. I had never seen a speedboat equipped
with a sound system worthy of the coolest teenage boy until now. It is
easy to judge non-black people that live here, but at this lodge, I
found most people appreciated and were thankful for the local staff
that helped make their vacation completely relaxing and responsibility
free. One young South African guy made a point to say, "It's not
racism; it's just two different ways of life coinciding. I have a boat
and I can also pay a local villager to fuel and wash my boat, so that
he feed his family." I see his point; though I don't think I can live
that way… the contrast is too much. However, I don't seem to have a
problem to mooch of people who do live that way. I got a lift back to
Lusaka with a South African couple in their giant 4x4 hauling a giant
boat. It doesn't exactly compare with a cramped, overloaded, brakes
only sort of work minibus.

Anyway, I'm back in Lusaka for a little bit. What I'm up to these next
few days: 1. Holding a workshop for my colleagues to develop the
organisation's three year strategic plan. Blah. 2. Planning my next
getaway. Hmm… where to next.