I'm back in Lusaka after what seems like an eternity, albeit only two weeks in Eastern Province. My colleagues and I held a teacher-training workshop, facilitated community meetings, and squeezed in as many monitoring visits as possible. The workshop was hectic, community meetings painstakingly slow, and school visits meaningful. Little did I realise how exhausted I would feel from the strain of travelling on difficult roads, eating copious amount of local food, and not being able to get or stay clean. Nevertheless, I came back to awaiting arms and flowers – nothing beats that.
I've made the journey to Chipata and Lundazi a few times before. I think the more I travel these roads, the more difficult it becomes. I enjoy road travel; the problem I have is when there are more potholes than tarmac surface on the so-called tarmac road. So, it is as if you're off-roading on road. You can't read because it's too bumpy, talk because the rushing wind is too loud, nor sleep because your head might smack into the window. Thankfully, I could count on iPod for company. Sixteen hours one way on the road with one fuel stop is a very long time.
At the end of each day I was coated with fine red dust and since Chipata and Lundazi seemed to be experiencing difficulties with council water supply, all I could do was draw water from the well, heat it, and aim to rinse myself off by pouring buckets over myself. Yes, I appreciate just having water, but I've been thoroughly spoiled with my hot shower in Lusaka. I admire Peace Corps volunteers for embracing (or at least trying to) village life. And speaking of villages, at the end of each community meeting we were always invited for a meal. Actually, since I don't think we could ever refuse, I should say we were expected to stay for a meal. Can you guess how many meals I had to eat… 15 community meetings equals 15 meals. I need a break, a very long break, from local food. No more nshima (maize paste), no more village chicken or goat or kapenta (smelly small dried fish that gave me a hives! Thank goodness for antihistamines!), and no more rape (spinach like vegetable cooked with tomatoes, onions, and lots of salt). At one of the last meetings, someone asked my boss why I was not eating a lot and he replied, "she has problem." I do have a problem with the food – the consistency, sometimes the taste – but as I discovered there is no respectful way to refuse it. But don't worry, after a break from it, I'll be able to enjoy the occasional nshima meal.
I take my perseverance of eating daily meals of nshima as a sign that I am settled in Zambia. I've also decided that I get a star for being able to greet, introduce myself, and say a few additional introductory sentences in three local languages! I also know a few motivational proverbs as well, which always scores more points with the community – yay me! But then again, a minus star for no longer making a notable effort to learn any more. The food, language, and greetings are most certainly part of the cultural experience of any country. For me, this past week, it was also a strain. When greetings take about an hour and the meeting themselves taking at least three because respect has to be given to each person individually, a little voice in my head went "Gah!". Yes, there is being culturally sensitive, but there are personal boundaries and meeting objectives, which unfortunately is on Western terms. I suppose what I'm trying to say is part of working here is finding a way to work within the way things are. That is to say, working towards your objectives on community terms. However, Zambia is becoming home. I know I am visitor, but on any particular day I work here, live here – I am present here. In Lundazi town, a shopkeeper said to me, "you are from America." I said, "no." He demanded, "where?" I said, "Lusaka". We both smiled.
A few more points from the trip:
- Everyone wants something. I find it an annoying theme. Give us money. Give us roofing sheets. Give us a borehole. This is a legacy of development and humanitarian relief. Donors and organisations want to help (and feel good when they give people things) and of course, who would not want to receive free things. I overheard a man say once, "they have come; now we can rest." People inevitably become dependent on assistance and sometimes stop thinking about how to improve their own situation. One school wanted us to drill them a borehole. We asked a series of questions only to learn that there is a functioning well 50m away. The school simply did not have a bucket and rope with which to draw water. It was much easier and more convenient to ask that we drill a borehole directly in front of the school than figure a way to get a few dollars and buy a bucket and rope for the school.
- Tough issues – early marriages, very young girls getting pregnant, coercion, abuse, defilement, rape. All these issues and more just highlight the realities of the most vulnerable people, especially young girls and boys. I feel strongly that working closely with communities is the only way to reduce the incidences of early marriages. It is about raising the awareness of community leaders and the community as a whole, and hopefully having them commit to stop marrying girls off early (for mbala – dowries, cattle, or due to pregnancies, etc) and allow the girl to finish her education. Organisations can advocate all they want, but without the buy-in of the community, significant and meaningful change will not happen.
It is never easy being the person, foreign or Zambian, to come into a community, especially a rural one and having to say that what they are doing to their girls is not right. A senior headman of one community, in fact married off his twelve-year-old daughter, a Grade 5 student to a fifteen-year-old boy, also a Grade 5 student. It becomes much more difficult in this instance to get support in the community; it will take time to get a trusted community leader to speak against the practice.
Another visit demonstrated to my colleagues that with our perseverance, raising awareness, supporting and empowering community leaders does work. We had held a workshop earlier in the year discussing girls' education and helping the community identify the factors holding girls back. During this visit, we continued the conversation where students also participated, and some students prepared some sketches and poems.
A poem I'll never forget, by Alicia, Grade 6 pupil:
My father can rape me,
My uncle can rape me,
My brother can rape me,
Society, society, please help me.
It was very difficult for me to digest how vulnerable some of these girls are. Rape is horrible – an atrocious, awful, traumatizing event that can happen to anyone. And when it happens we need to call it what it is – rape. Often times, I feel society hides behind technicalities; as in, calling the rape of a girl less than 18 years of age defilement. Or if you want to get even more technical, the age of consent may also be 16, as customary law dictates that girls can marry at 16. So defilement would also include the situation of an underage girl having consenting sexual relations. Because the girl could have consented, defilement seems to be a word that people can hide behind, and for me holds less weight of the horrific experience of rape. When consent is not given, it is rape. I have heard of parents/guardians convincing girls to say that they consented to sex and settle the "situation" by marrying the girl or another kind of settlement. Then there's the whole other challenge of proving a person's age without official birth documentation. And let's not forget boys can become victims of rape as well… something very difficult to bring forth in Zambia and many other countries. Through schools we can try to reach out to the community to support and increase girl education. At the same time, it is crucial to work with the parents and community leaders commit to supporting the girls' best interest.
- Taking the time to visit communities is invaluable. Typically, monitoring visits are essential to verify that the recipients have spent fund correctly, met timelines, project goals. Moreover, I feel that visits can motivate, encourage progress, and demonstrate to communities that their voice and their reality matters. Sure, we need to know about number of orphans in the community and the state of the school infrastructure. Community schools know this as the school head master, committee chairperson, or village headman will recite a report to this effect. Communities have also figured out in some instances, such as with school feeding programmes, that over or underreporting certain figures is advantageous – i.e. more food, supplies, etc. Yet, beyond all the monitoring for the apparent reasons, I think it's a chance for communities in their own words tell us what is happening. Communities get the opportunity to contextualise their reality. Women may have a chance to have their voice heard. And it gives us a chance to hear their needs and goals, and even bigger, their hopes and wishes. We can guide action planning, build collaborative effort, and motivate communities. One woman said to me, "it means you care enough to travel this far to see us." It does matter. When combined with other programme activities to absorb transportation costs, monitoring visits can be a very cost-effective way to support community development. Now, we also need to follow-up on our commitments and ensure that in the end their voices do matter.
- On one of the last visits, a school prepared a song for me with a chorus, "Thank God M has come." What do I say? My limited Nyanja vocabulary fails me. Ahh… thank you. Big smile, clasp hands, curtsy bow. Oh and God Bless You.
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