May 21st

Not much went on today I am sorry to say. Ellen and I went to renew my visa for another 30 days. We walked to the Peace Corps house. I took a bath. I made macaroni and cheese and homemade ice cream for dinner. And a giant rat ran over my foot; I am embarrassed to say I screamed like a little girl.                                                                          

May 20th

Ellen, Justin, and I went on a motor boat ride today with some of his mining friends. There is a dam about 20km north of Solwezi. They claim that there are not crocodiles in the dam (yet), but I refused to take their word for it. Ellen and I chose not to go swimming, but we got to cruise around in a boat on the water for a day which was fabulous until we ran out of petrol. It was exactly like a scene from the movies. The boat shudders and stalls, everyone thinks the driver is joking as he tries unsuccessfully to start the engine and the realization that we are stranded in the middle of a lake only sets in after two other men attempt to start the boat thinking that maybe they hold some sort of magic engine starting powers that the other men lacked.  Also two separate people had to check the gas tank just to double check that it was indeed empty; that maybe the first person did not look carefully enough at the completely empty gas can. What does that say about humanity that we are unwilling to believe something despite all the glaring evidence? Anyways, after about 45 minutes of paddling with arms, legs, the top of the cooler, and a random piece of the boat we were able to get close enough to shore to signal the only other boat on the entire lake that we need assistance. Since I am writing this and you are reading this I am sure that it will come as no surprise that we made it out alive. 

May 19th

After only one night back in the village I made my way back to Solwezi to meet up with Ellen. I have successfully survived a week alone in Zambia, even though I was not in the village the entire time I am still counting it. I received a prearranged ride from Brain, a Canadian working for a small company that helps villagers rent to own hammer mills to process maize.  I almost felt spoiled riding in a minivan, in the front seat, with a seat belt on, and with control over the stereo. It seems almost surreal that I own one of the motorized vehicles in the States and I can drive it whenever and wherever I please.

We decide to make a detour to the Mutunda Falls just outside of Solwezi to get a castle (the better of the crappy beers in Zambia). It is advertised as a resort and for Zambia standards it is high class and by high class I mean they have flush toilets although they are lacking toilet paper and toilet seats it is still a step up from a hole in the ground. I think my standards are waning. The falls were beautiful, peaceful, and refreshing. I did not realize how much I love the calming roar of running water until it has been absent from my life for several weeks.  This was the first body of water that I have seen since being in Africa. Although weary of crocodiles I could not resist the urge to kick off my shoes and let my feet dangle in the water.

Later Ellen and Justin decide that it is time that I experience the Titanic, a night club in Solwezi.  Prior to entering the club Ellen gives me a lesson in what I like to call defensive dancing. It pretty much consists of putting your arms up with your elbows sticking out to beat away unwanted dance partners, which in the Titanic is everyone. Being the only white girls in the club we did draw a lot of attention, but I was able to implement Ellen’s dance strategy with enormous success. The Titanic is setup similar to a dance studio with mirrors all around the perimeter club. I felt rather uncomfortable seeing my reflection dancing, but I appeared to be the only one taking issue with it. Looking around the club Zambians everywhere were watching themselves dance in the mirrors. I don’t mean like the occasional glance in the mirror, I mean they are standing dead in front of the mirror, making eye contact with themselves, and dancing. I think I may have seen a few wink and smile at themselves. 

May 18th

I was able to hunt down one of the doctors this morning and I followed him on his rounds through the women’s ward. This doctor conducted his assessment s of each patient with even less actual assessment of the patient. He did not have a stethoscope and discharged an asthmatic patient without assessing her lungs. He also diagnosed a patient with pneumonia purely on the fact that she had a cough, a fever, and she sounded a “bit rattley.” A patient with presumed meningitis secondary to malaria he deemed as having increased intracranial pressure because she was vomiting, but neglected to complete a neurological exam. Patients were diagnosed and treated for malaria strictly on the fact that they patient complained of headache and fever. There is a federal mandate that states that any patient with fever and headache must be screened for malaria that does not translate into blindly treating for malaria. This hospital is lacking many things but it does have a functioning lab with the ability to conduct the rapid diagnostic test for malaria as well and a blood smear confirmation. Using malaria as a catch all diagnosis is contributing to the rise of drug resistant malaria. When I asked the doctor why he was treating a patient for malaria even though all the tests were negative, he stated that he did not know what else it could be so it was better than doing nothing. Turns out the patient was just pregnant.  

There was a patient in the male ward who had ulcer on his foreskin that the doctor could not diagnosis. He stated that it was not syphilis or a fungal infection. I suggested that he test the patient for other STIs; specifically herpes and I joking mentioned that they should just circumcise the patient. He scheduled the patient for a circumcision later that day since he lacked the ability to test for herpes. Seeing as how herpes is a systemic infection chopping off the foreskin is going to do little to help this patient; not to mention that he is also HIV positive with a low T cell count and will have trouble healing post-surgery.  Oh and for all you men out there this hospital does not have an anesthesiologist so they conduct circumcisions with the patient wide awake with just a local anesthetic.

I feel as though I have spent a lot of time criticizing the hospital. I do not want to belittle the work that they are doing. I know that they are helping people and making a difference it is just hard not to notice all the things that should and need to be improved. It is easy for me as an American who is only going to be here for a month more to point my finger at the flaws, but how much is that actually going to help them. To be honest though I am at a total loss as to how to create a positive change in such a short time. I think I shall start with the lack of mosquito nets.

I only worked a half day today so that I could spend one night back in the village before meeting Ellen in Solwezi. When I made it to Nyansonso I was greeted with a cloud of children running towards me, hugging me, and taking my hand. I don’t think I have ever received such a warm welcome in my life. The joy that these children bring me after a few short weeks is amazing. I spent the evening teaching the kids how to ballroom dance. They thought I was crazy but they each wanted a chance to dance with me and fell over laughing every time I spun the around or tried to dip them. We played Frisbee and jump rope. I was sorry when the sun went down.

May 17th

This morning I could not find the doctors to do rounds with them. I suppose I am not all that surprised. I spent my morning in the Fetal Maternal Clinic. Thursdays the staff conducts an antenatal clinic. I was pleasantly surprised as to how many women/girls with their significant others attended; there was about 20 couples and 2 single women/girls. I feel as though I cannot categorize pregnant 14 year olds as women yet, even though they are obviously sexually active and reached puberty. The staff and I spent the morning drawing blood, giving tetanus shots, screening for malaria and anemia, measuring fundal height, listening to fetal heart rates with a fetal scope, determining the lay of the fetus, giving out prenatal vitamins and iron, checking blood pressure, and weighing the expectant mothers. The majority of the women/girls were in their mid to late 2^nd trimester; with no way to know for sure if you are pregnant in the village women usually wait until they can feel the baby move before coming to the clinic. Quickening (first movement) can happen as early as 16 weeks (I think).  Ideally women should be getting prenatal vitamins during their first trimester, but currently I am happy that people even show up!

I made a chocolate cake for dinner. It was heaven and I usually don’t even like cake.

May 16th

I finally got a tour of the hospital. The nursing officer was only a hour late, I saw this as a good sign. I have started going everywhere with a book now. You never can count on anyone showing up on time so you might as well pass the time reading. I have also started carrying toilet paper with me where ever I go. Although some places actually have flush toilets chances are they will not have toilet paper. Always good to have a stash with you at all times. Anyways the chief nursing officer took me around to all the different wards and introduced me to everyone we saw. Introductions in Zambia are long and drawn out. To have a proper introduction in Zambia I have found that are certain criteria you have to meet. First off the greeting has to be at least 90 seconds long, you need to include the person’s full name, where they are from, what they are doing here, why they are doing it, and your own person view of the person. Needless to say the tour took 2 hours and since the hospital consists of only 4 different wards this was an impressive use of time.

The hospital is composed of a female ward, a male ward, a labor and delivery ward, and a pediatric ward. Each ward is in a separate building running parallel to each other. The wards are large open spaces with beds lining each wall. There are no curtains and no dividers between each bed. There is one bathroom at the end of the ward with no door. The bed frames are spaced less than four feet apart from each other; they are made of steel and have two inch thick body fluid stained mattresses covered with blankets and sheets that the patients have to provide themselves. Typically patients cannot afford sheets so they sleep directly on the mattress with a chitenge covering them for warmth. The air smells faintly of vomit and urine and bleach. The windows are open with no screens; flies and bugs are free to come and go as they please. Unusually the flies prefer to stay past their welcome.  There are signs on the doors promoting the use of mosquito nets; “Do your part in stopping malaria, sleep under and mosquito net every night!” There are not mosquito nets on any of the beds.  Oh and there is no power. I feel as though there are too many differences between American hospitals and the Mufumbwe rural hospital to bother listing them all. I would be been off listing the ways in which they are alike; there are patients, they are sick, there are doctors and there are nurses. That about sums it up.

I spent most of my morning in the pediatric ward doing rounds with the one of two doctors stationed at the hospital. The doctor would round on each patient, ask the mother a few questions about the child (no fathers were present), review the vital signs, conduct a maximum of 30 second assessment and then scribble down a few orders on the medical card which is a single piece of paper in a yellow folder. For those who are unfamiliar with vital signs they typically consist of heart rate, blood pressure, temperature, oxygen saturation, and a pain assessment which are assessed every 2 to 8 hours in the States. The only vital sign monitored in the pediatric unit was temperature once every 24 hours if the nurse remembered.  The orders along with the vital sign seemed to be viewed as optional by some of the nursing staff. There were several orders from the previous day that were never completed, labs that were never drawn, medications that were never given, and dressing changes that were not completed appropriately. At this point I have only observed for a day so I cannot say with any certainty where the system break down occurred, but it glaringly obvious that the current system is not functioning effectively. It is also difficult to determine the long term effects of the failed system since the documentation and record keeping is relatively nonexistent. One can assume that several patients have suffered from delayed treatment at best and death at worse. Scary.

The pediatric unit is setup the similarly to the men and women wards. The beds are a bit smaller, but the mattresses are just as stained, there are not mosquito nets, and flies are everywhere. There are no chairs for the mothers to sit in, in fact there is no place for the mothers to sit, rest, or sleep anywhere on the hospital grounds except for outside. You can see families cooking outside on small fires, sleeping, and doing laundry.

There was a child in the pediatric unit who suffered from second degree burns covering 30% of her body. She had knocked a pot of boiling water off the fire; it spilled down her face, her arms, trunk, genitalia, and legs. I have never worked in a burn unit but I do recall from school that burns can cause severe dehydration, and they are at extremely high risk for infection, and the pain can be unbearable. I know that some other metabolic processes go on involving electrolytes, capillary permeability, and fluid shifts but I cannot recall the specifics at this time (sorry Professor Huber). The child was lying on a stained mattress with a chitenge covering her body, no mosquito net, and in a room with many other sick and infectious children. I did not observe a single person wash their hands when moving from one patient to another, in fact I did not even see a sink or a basin to do so. The dressing changes were conducted without gloves, without sterile dressings, and without any pain medication. I am embarrassed to say that I had a hard time staying in the room while the child wailed and her 9 month pregnant mother tried to smooth her. The doctor was well aware of the dangers that this child faced, but he said with a shrug “we can only do what we can do.” Fortunately the child’s wounds appear to be clean and healing nicely, she is afebrile, and her white blood cell count is normal; here hoping she stays stable. I am hard time comparing this care with American standards; it seems horribly unfair that because of the country you were born in you are deprived safe and effective health care.

I spent the afternoon diagnosing patients with the other doctor at the walk in clinic. Apparently an American nursing education qualifies you as a doctor in rural Zambia. I have found that in Zambia there are three diagnosis favored by physicians; the first is malaria, then pregnancy, then peptic ulcer disease. If you don’t have one of those then it might be meningitis, if is not that then you are shit out of luck. Skeptical about what I will see tomorrow. 

May 15th

Yesterday I finally received a call from the Mufumbwe Boma Hospital! Hurray! They wanted me to arrive at the hospital at 8 am for a tour. Having decided to hitch to the Boma this morning and not the night before I woke up at 530 to be on the side of the road by dawn; this was not the best decision I could have made. I waited for 3 hours before even seeing my first car and it was going in the wrong direction. I finally made it to the hospital by 1100, which in Zambia time I actually was early. I had a short meeting with the Chief Nursing Officer who told me I should come back at 1400 for a tour. !400 turned into tomorrow morning at 0800. It was all ok since I got to have an egg sandwich at the only “restaurant” in town. The term restaurant is used loosely because it is just a kitchen with a single stove that some lady makes 3 different dishes a day that sit on the counter all day in buffet warming trays.  I didn’t care though it was bread and eggs I will gladly pay the consequences later, but so far so good. My digestive system appears to be functioning normally.

I had my first encounter cooking rape today, horrible name but delicious green leafy vegetable. It is a cross between swiss chard and kale.  I think my body is happy for a change from the massive amount of cabbage I have been consuming.

May 14th

Second day alone in the village and I am still alive. I finished all of my chores by 1030. I never thought that I would say this but I wish the chores took longer. I feel this strange sort of anxiety that I should be doing something productive, but I am alone in a village in Zambia and I don’t speak the language very well, so my options are a bit limited. I did go for a two hour walk along the road. I managed to walk far enough away from the village that I was completely alone. When you are alone in the village you are not actually alone; there are people everywhere. All hours of the day you can hear them talking, laughing, and singing. But today for the first time since I have been in Zambia I was truly alone; I did not see a single soul or hear someone talk for over an hour. It is amazing how peaceful silence can be, but is also amazing how used you get to the gentle constant chatter of the villagers.

In Ellen’s absence the children have begun to test me. They come constantly asking for bubble gum, or to play Uno, or to have their nails painted. Pepio Bubble, they cry! Ellen has made it clear to the village children that nail painting and Uno are special treats and bubble gum will only be distributed when they have done a chore. I feel like I am constantly saying, ine, nawkana (no I refuse)! I feel like a mean mommy but I do not want to undo the culture that Ellen worked so hard to create.

Today I also observed a little baby teething. In the states the children would have brightly colored teething rings that would be swiftly disinfected if it landed on the ground outside. Here the child was chewing on what looked like the top to an old nail polish bottle.  She was strapped to the back of her older sister happily gumming a piece of trash when the toy inevitably fell into the dirt the sister picked it up and handed it back to the baby covered in dirt. Similarly I have seen small babies playing with old soda bottles, plastic bags, and bits of trash they find on the ground; the mothers hardly seem to notice. I do not mean to imply that the mothers are careless or that they do not love their children; I just think that it is a different culture combine with limited education on choking hazards and bacteria and limited resources. I am sure that if the women had access to teething rings they would happily use them; however that is hardly a priority in village life. 

May 13th

So first off Happy Birthday to Becca. Today will mark my first full day alone in the village. I believe that it was a success so far, I did not burned Ellen’s hut down which I feel is a good accomplishment since Ellen says it does happen more often than it should. One volunteer took a candle into their mosquito net; fortunately I do have a little more sense than that (most of the time). So far today I have washed dishes, washed laundry, wept the hut, knocked termite tunnels off of hut walls, re-swept, pumped water and carried in back on my head, colored with the children and played Uno, and touched a dead bush baby that one of the children had killed with a sling shot. The poor thing would have looked like a cute stuffed animal had it not been for the bulging bloody eyeball protruding from its face. After completing all of these tasks it was only 1300. Time in the village moves in a bizarre manner; it is not linear. The mornings seem to go by quickly, the afternoons seem to drag on forever and then the evenings fly by. Days seem long here but weeks pass quickly; the progression of days seems even longer when you are by yourself.

As I am writing this by candle light there is a large moth fluttering around the candle flame. It is kind of morbid by I kept hoping that it will fly through the flame and catch on fire. Much to my disturbing delight the moth zipped through the flame wings ablaze crashed into the hut wall only to be caught by a hunger wall spider and eaten for dinner. The wall spiders and I have a sort of arrangement. They stay on the wall eat bugs and I will let them live. If they leave the wall for any moment they will die. So far I have not had to kill a wall spider. I have actually grown a fondness for them; I feel as though they keep me company and the evil that I know and see is much better than the one that I don’t. I am afraid that if they are not there something grosser and creepier will takes its place. Apparently I am just going to miss the scorpion spider season. 

May 12th

I spent the beginning of the day in the Boma attending a celebration for International Nurses Day! Yeah go nurses! True to Zambian form the celebration started 4 hours after it was supposed to. It is a good thing I have learned the art of waiting and of never expecting something to start or someone to show up when it/they are supposed to.  When things finally got underway there was a parade with nurses from all the different clinics and hospitals in the area. They were carrying banners, shouting, and singing. The ceremony commenced with a very lengthy introduction of everyone on stage; there were 30 people. And then each person who got up to speak had to thank everyone on stage for coming. I am not too sure what was said but there was a lot hand shaking and back patting amongst the higher ups. There was a short reprieve when what I thought was a man dressed like a roster began to gyrate and shake to the beat of drums. The whole scene was quite captivating; the drums and the shaking hips. Soon the lawn was filled with nurses and children dancing and singing! Best Nurses Day ever.

I feel as though I have to take a moment to mention the children. Watching them assemble is like the scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s the Birds. You look over and there are just a handful of children watching you. Five minutes later their numbers have doubled. The number of children keeps increasing each time you look over and each child is staring intently at you. It is really quite impressive the attention you get just because you are white. By the end of the ceremony there was a line of children with their backs to the stage sitting watching me. I felt like a zoo creature. It also made it really hard to do anything discretely like pick your wedge or your nose. Any move you made there were 30 sets of eyes watching you. At first I thought that it was just a different culture and I would have to get used to the stares; but unfortunately it is not. In Zambian culture it is considered very rude to stare, but apparently all bets are off when there is a mazungo. I reason why to view this as unfortunate is that I could overlook the staring if I thought it was a cultural thing but knowing that they are disregarding their own cultural rules to stare at me can get extremely irritating after 4 hours. Also you start to feel really self-conscious. 

May 11th

Today I hitch hiked to the Boma all by myself.  I feel like a big kid now! I am going to be spending the next week alone in the village. It should be an interesting challenge, but I am excited. I wish I knew more Kaonde; without Ellen here to translate for me it should make for an interesting week. My vocab mainly consists of “good morning, how are you, I am fine, and who farted?” The children taught me the last one and they double over laughing so of course I use it all the time. It good to know that my maturity level has not advanced very much.

May 10th

After today I think I may be known in the village as the crazy mazungo who put a puppy in a chitenge and carried it around like a baby. Typically chitenges are used to hold real babies, well actually that is just one of the many uses of a chitenge, but I doubt that it has ever been used to carry a puppy. The women were doubled over with laugher, calling on their other friends to come and bear witness to the crazy American with a puppy on her back. The puppy was really cute.

On our way home from the clinic today Ellen and I passed by one of the churches in the village. The children were having a self-directed children’s choir rehearsal. They sang in rounds and harmonies with no direction from an adult and no help from a musical instrument. Their angelic voices were quite moving floating through the air in soft rhythmic tones. I don’t think I will see children in the States voluntarily singing church hymns with no adult direction or supervision.

May 9th

Ellen and I decided to bake today; things did not really go according to plan. We tried to make beer bread. The bread did not rise. We cooked it anyways. It was quite dense. Each slice weighed as much as a small child. We ate it anyways. Then we tried to bake a cobbler with canned apricots and pears. Someone may have put baking soda instead of baking powder into the dough (that person shall remain nameless). We were also missing some key ingredients such as eggs, butter, and milk so we switched water for milk, soy bean oil for butter, and extra sugar for eggs. And yes I do know that sugar is not a substitute for eggs, but we were hoping that if it was sweet enough we would not care. I don’t think all the wishing, hoping, or praying in the world could have saved this cobbler, but we ate it anyways.

Trying to restore a sense of accomplishment Ellen and I decided to do something productive that we knew we could not screw up; we limed her walls. This involves taking lime (not the citrus fruit) and mixing it with water then taking a cloth and rubbing it on her walls. It is slow, messy, mildly caustic to your skin and a few spiders may have lost their lives, but now a larger portion of Ellen’s hut has white walls.

May 8th

I visited the clinic bright an early this morning to bear witness to the under-five vaccination clinic. Per District Health Commissioner the clinic would be stalked with the appropriate supplies, including the vaccines, to vaccinate children under-five. The clinic has no electricity and therefore no refrigeration system which makes storing vaccines in the clinic impossible. Silly me to think that the supplies would arrive prior to the opening of the clinic at 0800. I did not factor in Zambian time which is on average 3- 4 hours off. The vaccines arrived at 1130.

Ellen and I held a meeting for the Safe Motherhood Action Group (SMAG) and the Neighborhood Health Committee (NHC) in hopes to motivate them into action. Both groups are responsible for spreading education among the villagers, they are supposed to motivate the community in take the appropriate steps to improve health and safety within the village. Even though each group has a list of “active” members the groups have not met in several months, nor have they been “motivating” their communities. The SMAG and the NHC have slightly different goals and responsibilities. For example the SMAG is supposed to encourage mother to get prenatal care, they are supposed to encourage mothers to go the clinic when in labor, and they are supposed to encourage mothers to seek out family planning. The NHC is supposed to do community inspections to ensure that the grass is slashed, children are sleeping under mosquito nets, and bathrooms are located an appropriate distance from the hut. Ellen and my goals were to have each group make a constitution and create an action plan for their first intervention within the community. Unfortunately I felt like most of the people showed up to watch the mazungos talk, but here’s hoping. We scheduled a follow-up meeting with the groups in a month. 

May 7th

Ellen and I made the journey to the hospital again in hopes of politely harassing some higher up people into letting me help in the hospital. We spend one hour in the pharmacy playing solitary waiting for the district medical officer to get out of a meeting; then we were ushered to another office where we waited for another 2.5 hours. Ellen is now a master at Luxor, a computer game. Anyways when we were finally able to meet with the BMO he took down my name, number, a copy of my diploma and my college transcript. He told me that they are very short staffed and that they would be happy to have me. He promised a call by the end of the day. It is now 2100, I am not holding my breath.

Ellen and I hitched back from the Boma and made it just in time to sit in on a meeting with the newly appointed District Health Commissioner and all the head men of Nyansonso. From what Ellen was able to translate for me the head men were getting a bit of a tongue lashing for not being role models in the community. They have the power in influence and to spread knowledge that would help the community to thrive but they have done very little to spur progress. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that her words will inspire some forward thinking/ motivation for maybe a week.

Oh yeah and I have a cold. My boyfriend sneezed in my face. We are taking some time apart.

May 6th

Today I went for another run. This time I was accompanied by a 13 year old named Sharon. She ran with me on the pavement barefoot and in a skirt for 30 minutes. It put into perspective the American need for high tech and stylish workout clothes and shoes. It is a billion dollar industry, which I am sad to say I have bought into, that completely over rated and overvalued. The proof was running right beside me today with a big smile on her face. She had no fancy Nike sneakers or fashionable running shorts or sports bra; she was barefoot in a skirt!

Later Ellen and I hitched our way back to the Boma for a night of fun with some new Peace Corps volunteers. We spent the evening with electricity, but only until midnight which is when the whole town goes dark. The best part of all there was the shower! It had hot water and everything! The water pressure was barely more the trickle and it may have taken 15 minutes to get my hair even wet, but it was a shower and I was clean!!

May 5th

So I am going to retract my previous statement about all foods tasting delicious; that may have been a bit premature. Ellen’s Ba Mama brought over some bush meat for us today. I am not entirely sure what kind of animal it was, but it was hairy even without skin. It had the consistency of cat food and tasted like what I would imagine the bastard child of spam and gefilte fish would taste like.

To compensate for the awful bush meat experience Ellen and I decided to bake a cake with one of the girls in her compound. We made a vanilla cake over hot coals and it did not burn and it was amazing. My outdoor culinary skills are greatly improving. Next we shall tackle the task of baking bread!

I went for a run today. The concept seemed to confuse many of the villagers. They kept asking me where I was going. When I would respond that I was just going for a run and that I had no destination in mind they looked at me like I was off my rocker, which I maybe.  I also delighted many of the village women today by carrying the 10 liter jug of water on my head back the compound. Although I was put to shame by the 13 year old carrying a 20 liter jug on her head going nearly twice as fast as I was. 

May 4th

So I am going to take a moment to discuss the bathroom situation here in the village. There is a brick shelter with a straw roof and a tear drop shaped hole in the cement floor; the thickness of the floor is questionable. The hole appears to be 10-15 feet deep. I try not to jump for fear that the floor will cave in and I will be stuck in a big hole of shit; not that I have many reasons to be jumping in the bathroom, but you never know.  There are not many things that I am afraid of one of them is being stuck in a hole of pooh and the other is spiders; this bathroom has both threats. In the ceiling there is Vladimir, a mean looking baseball sized spider. Each time I enter the shelter I pull back the plastic doorway, peek my head in and locate Vladimir and keep my eye on him as a squat over the hole. If you have ever tried to pee into a hole as a woman then you know that there is a science behind the process. Through careful evaluation I have discovered that there is no sure fire way to hit the hole consistently and constantly. You must constantly shift and change your weight to compensate for the change in pressure and direction; then just when you think you have it down it all goes to hell and you end up peeing on your leg and soaking the floor. The real trouble starts when you have to do number 1 and number 2. I’ll save you the explicit details, but believe me it takes concentration and skill. This bathroom is also the residence of many many flies who like to hide in the hole and the erupt with surprising force from the hole as soon as you squat over it leaving you with the feeling of little flying torpedoes ambushing your butt. This just further complicates the whole bathroom situation.

As for what we did today, Ellen and I completed our morning chores and then walked around the village meeting a greeting people. We visited the residence of a blind lady and her husband. We help her shell the kernels of corn/maize off the cob by hand so that it could be further dried then pounded into meal. The process of shelling maize is not all that involved; however it is very time consuming. It is estimated that the women in Zambia spend more time shelling maize each year than any other task. That is hundreds of hours of labor.

For dinner Ellen and I made our African version of shepherd’s pie with lentils, corn, cabbage, and instant mashed potatoes. I never thought instant mashed potatoes could be so amazing!! We rationed our chocolate for dessert. Ellen allows us to have three squares of chocolate at night. I find myself thinking of those three pieces of chocolate all day. Living in the village is like back packing; everything tastes amazing!

May 3rd

Ellen and I made the brave 80 kilometer journey to the Mufumbwe Boma (the down town of Ellen's district). I went to the hospital to inquire about volunteering or shadowing in an African hospital. The chief nursing officer appeared to be very excited and said that he would contact me by the end of the day. Ellen told me not to get my hopes up since it is Zambia and people work at their own pace. It is 2000 and still no phone call. I have found this to be the standard of practice in Zambia. Zambians will tell you what they think you want to hear to make you happy not what they actually want or what they will actually do. This results in miscommunications and minimal progress. 

May 2nd

Today we hitched back to Nyansonso from Solwezi. The hitch was very uneventful. I got to ride on a tire tractor for 2.5 hours. The children from Nyansonso ran to the truck as we were being dropped off to grab all of our bags and lug them back to Ellen's hut. A very small five year old was carrying my very large Osprey backpack; she was struggling under the weight of it, but shooed away anyone wanting to help. All I could see from my vantage point was my pack and two feet shuffling forward. She hulled my pack the 100 meters to the door of Ellen's hut with happy determination. Ellen and I swiftly got unpacked then went outside to play with the children. We played football with a ball made from a condom, plastic, and yarn. It worked surprisingly well, that is until the condom popped and they had to unravel the yarn and plastic to replace the broken condom. I fear that the majority of condoms used in this village are for footballs and not for safe sex.

While we were gone this weekend for the cost of ten dollars two village men build Ellen and I a mud brick bathing shelter. We no longer have to bath in view of all her villagers! We are high class now!!

The big excitement for the children came when I brought out the nail polish. I think I painted more fingernails bubble gum pink in 30 minutes than I have in my entire life. The majority of which were boys. It was rather funny to see flashes of bright pink on all of the children’s fingernails as they played. The paint did not last long on most children. One little two year old boy named Jeravy (he's my boyfriend) promptly stuck his fingers in his mouth and began chewing off the paint. He had little specks of pink paint all over his mouth and stuck in the river of snot coming from his nose.

Ellen and my excitement for the day came when the children brought us to see kabwas pichache or puppies!!! There were two litters of puppies in the village! They were adorable and quite noisy for their small size. The children found it hilarious that we were talking to and playing with the puppies. Dogs are viewed more as pests than anything else in the village. They are typically malnourished, covered with flees, and what I think are ticks or at least the African version of ticks and kicked/ beaten frequently. Ellen and I both cringe whenever we hear the sad yelp of the dog being kicked. But I suppose the people here do not have the luxury of having "pets".

May 1st

Ellen and I stay at her boyfriend’s house when we visit Solwezi. It feels like I am living in the lap of luxury; there is a flush toilet, a refrigerator, a hot plate, and a television, oh and monster sized rats that have domestic disputes above my head every night. I go to sleep praying that the aged leaking dry wall that separates me from the rodents holds and if that fails I pray that the misquote net will impede their ability to snuggle with me at night. So far there have been no unwelcome guests in my bed at night.

Did I mention that he also has a bath tub (no shower). Don’t yet too excited; this bath tub is used by six miners so it is constantly covered in a thick grimy slime. I think actually feel more dirty post bathing (which is saying something). For all of those concerned about my hygiene in the village I actually bath more in Africa than I do in the States.

April 30th

Ellen, Leanne, and I walked down to the market in Solwezi to get veggies and more chitenges (2 meters of material used as skirts, towels, backpacks, baby slings, curtains, etc. in the village). If you have never been to a market in a 3rd world country it can be quite an experience. There are many different smells, sounds, and sights; you can go into sensory overload. I recommend avoiding the fish section even in the cold season the fish stench hangs and saturates the air; you can taste it. There are vendors selling cups, bowls, flip-flops, vinyl flooring, chickens, cloth, oils, veggies, beer, and pre-own clothes (the list goes on). My personal favorites are the piles of caterpillars for sale; they are considered a treat in Zambia. I did have the fortunate experience of trying some; they were crunchy and kind of tasted like fish. Yum

April 29th

Today I was attached to the toilet. Oh joy! Note to self I should not eat red meat.

April 28

I have to take a moment to about the fact that Ellen and I baked a pumpkin cake over coals and it did not burn! And then we made orange glazed soya chucks, amazing! For those unfamiliar with soya chunks they are processed soy protein that look and taste like a sponge.  My outdoor culinary skills are improving.

Ellen, Leanne, and I hitched into town today. Spent the 2.5 hour drive in the back of a pick-up truck with a load of pumpkins singing any song we could remember at the top of our lungs. I lost my voice, but it was totally worth it. 

April 27

Today started much the same way the previous days did; going to fetch water in a cloud of children laughing and grasping our hands, washing the previous days dishes and washing our laundry. Ellen and I decided to go for a walk down the road. As usual we were stopped frequently to greet everyone we met on the road. I believe I successfully did not call anyone relish today although I did mess up the customary hand shake and clap. We walked about five kilometers and I did not see any wildlife besides butterflies and flies. Apparently the villagers will kill any animals that are in the area and eat them so there are literally no birds or monkeys or rodents around.

Ellen, Leanne (another PeaceCorps volunteer), and I visited the clinic this afternoon. The clinic is staffed by a single nurse. She is expected to work 6 days a week for 8 hours a day. Her house is located directly behind the clinic so if the clinic is not open and the villagers have an emergency they will knock on her door. This particular day she had been up all night with a laboring mother and is now taking care of a patient with bacterial meningitis and malaria. The blatant differences between health care in the US and in Africa were expected but are still shocking.  The nurse assesses, diagnoses, and treats patients completely independently; she will determine whether she can manage the patient in town or if they need to be shipped the 80km to the Boma for further treatment. I witnessed a patient come into the clinic describe several symptoms then leave with several pills in hand; no medical tests or physical examination were completed. The patient was in and out in 10 minutes.

The nurse and I discussed at the length the biggest challenges in providing healthcare in the village. The main one being that there is no accountability among the villagers to take responsibility for their own health.  Villagers will only seek out help once there is already a problem they will not take the appropriate measures to prevent disease or illness. For example surrounding the village is very tall grass which encourages the reproduction of mosquitos. The village has been educated over and over again that by slashing the grass it will reduce the mosquito levels and therefore reduce the incidence of malaria, but the grass is still there and villagers are still getting malaria.

 Secondly there is very little prenatal/antenatal care offered and perused by the villagers. Ideality pregnant women would come to the clinic to have their blood sugar monitored, blood pressure checked, weighed, obtain prenatal vitamins, screened for anemia,  and height of fundus measured. In reality the clinic has no blood pressure cuff (I did bring one with me), no measuring tape, no glucometer, no ability to measure hemoglobin, and rarely have a consistent supply of prenatal vitamins. The lack of supplies and ability to perform the necessary tests instills a sense of doubt and mistrust among the villagers with the clinics ability to provide effective care.  Furthermore there is very little record keeping or documentation of care given. The nurse, who has only be stationed for 3 months, has no record of women’s past medical history, how many pregnancies, miscarriages, and live births a women has had, or who is pregnant in the village. My tentative goal at the moment is to gather this information for the nurse so that she can submit the demographics to the government to hopefully receive funding for better prenatal care. Although I am not sure how to make this sustainable; I am afraid that once I leave there will be no one to gather this information and it is highly unlikely the culture among the women will change and they will miraculous become forthcoming with this information.  Any ideas or suggestions on this would be greatly appreciated.