Challenges
We've been in Zambia for more than two months. The time has flown by in certain ways but sometimes it feels like we've been here much longer. I celebrated my 29th birthday last Thursday. Michelle and I went out with a good bunch of coworkers. As we hung out, I thought it was strange (in a sort of cool way) to spend a birthday with 15 people I didn't know existed a couple months ago... in a place that I hardly knew of 12 months ago. It's been fun so far.
There are challenges though too, times when we would like to return home and spend evenings with family and friends. Zambia carries so much potential for crazy and pretty emotional scenarios. Most of the time it isn't clear what the best response is.
What's the right thing to say...to a coworker that has lost a son, a daughter, and a brother in the last month? To another coworker that lost an 8 month old niece to pneumonia over the weekend?
Should we think twice about giving money to...a project guard that needs 100,000 Kwacha (roughly $30) to buy a bus ticket for his ill mother so she can be cared for in Lusaka? Another man walked into work aoff the street and explained he was in a car accident that killed his wife and mother back in January. He was informed of his HIV status while in the hospital, he showed me all of his forms. He also showed me the leg wound that refused to heal since the accident. A co worker and I gave him 100,000 kwacha for a bus ticket home (about 500km north on the border of the Congo) so he could be with the rest of his family. I thought he was in his late 40s, maybe 50. He was 32.
And there's children. Michelle made friends with two boys that hang out by the gas station near our place. She knows to buy an extra loaf of bread when she goes in and recently asked the boys where they lived. The boys, approximately 8 and 10, just shrugged. She asked if their mom made dinner for them, they replied "our moms are dead." The boys promised Michelle that they would share the bread with their friends.
There is a another group of boys that stand by one particular intersection and ask for money. Usually each kid (still no more than 12) has a small water bottle filled with a little kerosene, which they huff to stay warm and to stave off hunger(?). Michelle gave the boys a box of crackers and we watched a fight break out over them. Still not sure what the right response is there.
And one of the saddest thing I witnessed was a group of young boys dragging and beating an emaciated dog. I yelled at the boys. They were smiling at first but later seemed like they knew it was wrong. I remember growing up in Illinois and never having seen something so callous first hand. But then pain and death are so much more normal to young kids here. Not that it makes it right, it's just different.
I hope this hasn't been too depressing and by no means am I trying to propel ourselves to sainthood either. With the resources we have, we haven't given as much as we could or maybe should. It's just tough to know where to start.
On a better note, these are some of the kids we met this weekend. We were watching the ZEHRP football team, which is still winless in every game I've participated in... (0-1-2) I was told by some little kids that I couldn't play (because I am white I think...or maybe they could tell by looking at me that I really didn't know how to play?) Guys on the sidelines yell..."Mzungu tamanga, tamanga". The equivalent to "white man, run faster." I'm 29 but in my head I'm still pretty fast...
There are challenges though too, times when we would like to return home and spend evenings with family and friends. Zambia carries so much potential for crazy and pretty emotional scenarios. Most of the time it isn't clear what the best response is.
What's the right thing to say...to a coworker that has lost a son, a daughter, and a brother in the last month? To another coworker that lost an 8 month old niece to pneumonia over the weekend?
Should we think twice about giving money to...a project guard that needs 100,000 Kwacha (roughly $30) to buy a bus ticket for his ill mother so she can be cared for in Lusaka? Another man walked into work aoff the street and explained he was in a car accident that killed his wife and mother back in January. He was informed of his HIV status while in the hospital, he showed me all of his forms. He also showed me the leg wound that refused to heal since the accident. A co worker and I gave him 100,000 kwacha for a bus ticket home (about 500km north on the border of the Congo) so he could be with the rest of his family. I thought he was in his late 40s, maybe 50. He was 32.
And there's children. Michelle made friends with two boys that hang out by the gas station near our place. She knows to buy an extra loaf of bread when she goes in and recently asked the boys where they lived. The boys, approximately 8 and 10, just shrugged. She asked if their mom made dinner for them, they replied "our moms are dead." The boys promised Michelle that they would share the bread with their friends.
There is a another group of boys that stand by one particular intersection and ask for money. Usually each kid (still no more than 12) has a small water bottle filled with a little kerosene, which they huff to stay warm and to stave off hunger(?). Michelle gave the boys a box of crackers and we watched a fight break out over them. Still not sure what the right response is there.
And one of the saddest thing I witnessed was a group of young boys dragging and beating an emaciated dog. I yelled at the boys. They were smiling at first but later seemed like they knew it was wrong. I remember growing up in Illinois and never having seen something so callous first hand. But then pain and death are so much more normal to young kids here. Not that it makes it right, it's just different.
I hope this hasn't been too depressing and by no means am I trying to propel ourselves to sainthood either. With the resources we have, we haven't given as much as we could or maybe should. It's just tough to know where to start.
On a better note, these are some of the kids we met this weekend. We were watching the ZEHRP football team, which is still winless in every game I've participated in... (0-1-2) I was told by some little kids that I couldn't play (because I am white I think...or maybe they could tell by looking at me that I really didn't know how to play?) Guys on the sidelines yell..."Mzungu tamanga, tamanga". The equivalent to "white man, run faster." I'm 29 but in my head I'm still pretty fast...
posted by Michelle and Bob - Zambia @ 1:35 PM
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