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.