Heading Home

Well, it’s hard to believe that my time in Zambia has come to an end. I left Kaombe yesterday, and I’m now in Lusaka (the capital city) as I am flying home tomorrow. It was a great last week at the Mango Tree. We had two programs during the week.

The first was a workshop on sustainable farming techniques, led by Mr. Jonas Sampa from a local NGO. I randomly met him when I was hitchhiking home from the Mango Tree one day, and I was so excited when he explained that he worked with an NGO that focuses on teaching agricultural techniques to communities to help them improve their livelihoods. He specifically focuses on teaching the communities to use natural types of fertilizer (an answer to prayer because most of the community is saving their pennies to buy the chemical fertilizer which is commonly sold here, but it is terrible for the environment and ultimately makes the soil entirely dependent on the fertilizer so that without it, it produces nothing). Mr. Sampa also teaches communities about crop rotation, and how to cultivate the many wetlands (“dambos”) in the area to produce food during the rainy season (also known as “the hungry season”). God really blessed us with having Mr. Sampa come to teach this workshop. Twenty-two farmers showed up, and Mr. Sampa is making plans to come back on a monthly basis to continue his teaching. Not only that, he was so impressed with the Mango Tree facilities (as well as the lunch he had at the Mango Tree café) that he wants to rent the Mango Tree classroom on a regular basis to hold workshops! This is such an answer to prayer, as the project is still struggling to reach the goal of becoming self-sustaining.


We also had an “HIV/AIDS Awareness Day”, in anticipation of World AIDS Day (which is today). A local theater group performed music, drama and dance regarding HIV/AIDS prevention, treatment, and the problem of stigma and discrimination against those who are infected. In order to draw the crowds to The Mango Tree for this event, we borrowed a volleyball net from the hospital. It was a great success – we played volleyball for hours!


Later that day, the staff at the Mango Tree surprised me with a small going-away party, complete with a “we will miss you” cake :) It was so hard to say my goodbyes to everyone. I have grown especially close to the staff of the Mango Tree, and I will miss them so much. I am confident that they will continue a great work of helping to bring transformational development to the community of Kaombe. Please pray for them as they continue to do this.


Pray for Frances, as he will most likely be the official “director” of the Mango Tree after Katie leaves in February. He has such a humble, loving spirit, and a servant-leader attitude that I have witnessed over the last three months as he interacts with the rest of the staff and the community.







Pray for Annie, our other administrative staff member. She is such an intelligent girl with a great sense of humor, and an ability to influence people. Pray that she will continue to mature in her relationship with Jesus and will use her influence to bring unity within the Mango Tree as well as the community!





Pray for Noreen, such a dear woman with a gentle spirit. She works so hard in the Mango Tree kitchen, and she always does so with a big smile on her face. Pray for her, as she is widow with three young children to raise.







Pray for Agness. She also works hard making her famous buns for the Mango Tree cafe. She loves her new job and loves working with the community. Pray also for her as she supports her family without the help of her husband.


Pray for the community! Even though I am coming home, I ask you to please remember the village of Kaombe, and pray that the Mango Tree would continue to be a light to the community, helping to bring people into a love relationship with Jesus Christ, and a love relationship with each other. As this happens, pray that the people’s identity would be restored so that they would recognize their worth as valuable human beings created in God’s image. Pray that the Lord would raise up godly leaders from within the community to organize and empower the people to confront oppression and evil that keeps the community in a cycle of poverty and begin to transform the community systems to work for the growth and development of the people. Also, pray for the Christian community within Kaombe. There is currently such division and competition among the various Christian church denominations. The Mango Tree is working alongside the pastor of the Pentacostal Church (Pastor Joseph Chileshe) to bring Christians from all denominations together in Bible studies and mentorship relationships so that they would become unified and work together as one body.
Well, as I close this last posting, I want to thank everyone who has regularly read my blog, taken time to email me, financially supported me, and kept me in your prayers! Throughout the last three months I have truly been blessed and encouraged by this experience, and I know this is because of your prayers! The Lord has protected me against everything from sickness to poisonous snakes :) He has increased my faith. And He has given me the privilege of witnessing his redemptive and transforming hand at work in one small village in Africa. I will never forget it as long as I live.

“Oh that we might know the Lord! Let us press on to know him. He will respond to us as surely as the arrival of dawn or the coming of rains in early spring.” Hosea 6:3

Travels

This week my friend Lindsay came to visit. We spent last weekend in Livingstone in search of wild animals and a glimpse of one of the 7 natural wonders of the world, Victoria Falls. The Falls had been reduced to more of a trickle (because we are at the end of the dry season), but it was still amazing. We were able to walk along the edge of the rocky cliff, at the same spot where (in a few months) rushing water will soon be crashing over the ledge into the gorge below. It was a spectacular view, even if only a trickle.

At sunset we took a river safari down the Zambezi River. Perhaps jealous that our eyes were glued to the banks of the river in search of wildlife, the sunset put forth it’s best effort to distract us, spraying pink, yellow and orange across the sky before finally surrendering beneath the waters of the Zambezi. The hippos were the first to come out to play. Much too proud to humor a boat full of gawking tourists with a close up picture, they kept their distance, exposing their heads only enough to keep an eye on our boat. Occasionally they would open their massive jowls in a wide yawn, maybe to remind us why the hippo is most feared animal by safari guides (even before the lion), and also to let us know how unimpressive our little boat was. The crocodile was our next diversion. It slept lazily on the shore until we drifted closer and it slid into the water and out of view. Just as the last rays of pink were fading from the sky, the elephants emerged out of the bush for an evening drink.

The next day Lindsay and I went on an elephant-back safari. We rode on a young mother who was beautiful and gentle. Her young daughter followed close behind, often trying to walk underneath her mother, threatening to trip her and send us flying. It was a great ride….and afterwards I got to feed my elephant.

The rest of the week was spent back in Kaombe at the Mango Tree.
On Wednesday we had a team from the hospital come and set up a health clinic at the Mango Treefor children under 5 years old. Lindsay and I helped with weighing the babies (to see if they are a healthy weight) and the nurses handed out Vitamin A and medicine for worms and gave vaccine shots.

We ended our work with a delicious meal prepared by the cooks of the Mango Tree. Unknown to us at the time, a snake was hanging from the rafters above us as we ate our meal. Only after we finished did Francis notice the intruder and proceed to beat the living daylights out of it with a large stick. Snakes are a very normal part of life here, so everyone was amused by my horrified face and full-body shudder as I looked at the dead snake. "Was it poisonous?" I ask Francis. "Yes, of course," Francis replies. Man oh man, I hope that is the last snake I see in Africa.

Caterpillar Season

It’s caterpillar season here in Zambia. Everyone is heading out into the bush to fill their buckets with these fat, green slugs. People here are crazy about caterpillars…..life in the village pretty much comes to a standstill for the three-week caterpillar harvest. I have been trying to set up a youth-adult mentorship program at the Mango Tree but I’ve been informed that attendance will be very poor until the caterpillar season is over. Apparently, caterpillars are a delicacy only available here in the Northern Province of Zambia. So, it is a financial boost for many because people come from all the other provinces of Zambia to buy these coveted slugs. I knew it was just a matter of time before I had to try one. Everyone is incredulous when I tell them that yes, we do have caterpillars in the States, but no, we do not eat them. A few mornings ago, Foster knocked on my door and chirped her cheery greeting, as she does every day at the crack of dawn. But on this day, her usual “Good morning Eleezabet!” was replaced with “Eleezabet, you like Ifishimu??” Here we go, I thought. Yet another gastronomic adventure. I entered the kitchen to see Foster hovering over a frying pan filled with caterpillars ("Ifishimu" in Bemba).In the crackling heat of the pan, their normal lime-green hue had faded to a yellow-brown shade. I explained to Foster that I only wanted to try one caterpillar, and because these little slugs are as precious to her as dark chocolate is to me, she didn’t protest. She was so delighted to be witnessing my first partaking of Ifishimu that she insisted on documenting the occasion. As such, I have a close-up picture of the poor little caterpillar as I crunched into its shriveled body.

Celebrating "Zam-style"

This past week everyone was very busy at the Mango Tree, preparing for Zambia’s Independence Day on October 24 (Wednesday). This year, Zambia is celebrating 43 years of freedom from British colonial rule. A few weeks ago I asked some people from the village what they normally did to celebrate this holiday and they shrugged their shoulders and said “nothing”. Since then, the staff at the Mango Tree and I have been planning a village-wide celebration. We wanted to have a time when the village could gather and enjoy themselves while also strengthening their national identity and pride, remembering the history of their country’s struggle for independence, and honoring the village’s “freedom fighters” (those who fought against the British) who are still living. We had many things planned, including a speech by the village headman (himself one of the “freedom fighters”), sharing his experience of the revolution of 1963-4. It was fascinating to hear his story of how the Zambian rebels fought against the British with bows and arrows whose tips were dipped in poison. After the speech, the Mango Tree’s preschool prepared some songs and short poems about Zambia and independence. I wanted our celebration to be a fun and carefree time for everyone so we planned a few games and competitions, including several traditional dance competitions, a few eating competitions, and an “apple bobbing” competition. After these festivities, we planned to invite the “freedom fighters” and several honored guests into the Mango Tree to serve them a traditional meal of nshima, cassava leaves, beans, and goat (yuck).

So, the morning of the celebration was full of preparation. We were scrambling to get everything set up before the 10am start time. Of course, in “Zam time”, this means an 11am start time J As the headman began to give his opening speech, dark clouds rolled in from over the mountains and drifted toward the Mango Tree. (You must know that it has been bone-dry since I got here - with one freak-incident of rain – so it didn’t even occur to me that rain could threaten our party). Keeping my eyes on the black clouds that were almost directly over the Mango Tree, I leaned over to my friend, ba Joyce, and nodded up at the sky. “Look at those clouds….do you think it will rain??” “Oh yes,” she replied, “it always rains on Independence Day. Every 24^th of October it rains”. Hmmm…..Why didn’t someone mention that to me while we were planning this party….. Before I knew it, big drops of rain started pelting my face and a large rumble of thunder drowned out the closing words of the headman’s speech. The crowds started to scatter. Most ran into the Mango Tree. I ran to the nearest open-air hut, hoping the rain would pass quickly. No such luck. The rain pounded the ground, quickly turning the dry, red earth to thick mud.

And if rain wasn’t enough to dampen our spirits, the hail was. Hail stones the size of marbles fell from the sky, bouncing off the ground like popping popcorn. “Are you kidding me?!?” I asked in disbelief. Ba Joyce confirmed my suspicion, “oh yes….the rainy season has started today.”

Well, despite the weather we still managed to have a lot of fun. After the rain showed no signs of letting up, we crammed as many as we could into the Mango Tree while the others stood on tiptoes to peek through the windows and watch as the competitions began inside. Just when I thought the Mango Tree might explode as a result of too many bodies packed into one building, the rain would fade to a drizzle we would move the party outside. We had to move indoors one more time but we were able to finish the celebration outside. The meal was a big success. The freedom fighters talked and laughed and ate together loudly. They all had big smiles on their faces – I think they felt proud and honored.

With a belly full of nshima I made the trek back to my place, exhausted from the long day. It was interesting to reflect on my own reaction to the day’s events. My first response was one of irritation that our party was going to be ruined by the weather. I asked God why it was so necessary to start Zambia’s rainy season on October 24^th. Even after we moved inside to continue the party I was still upset, annoyed that it was so crowded and hot, and worried that people were not having fun. But when I took a moment to really look around, I saw so many happy faces. We were packed like sardines into the small building, but everyone was laughing and enjoying each other. I was the only one that seemed bothered by the rain. I suddenly remembered that someone had told me that a normal Independence Day involved nothing special, and I realized that if we had not had this party everyone would just be sitting at their huts. Many of the men and some women would spend the day getting drunk on their home-brewed beer. And they would not be together as a community, enjoying each other. So, maybe God sent the rain to remind me that I am not in control, and also to bring the community even closer (way closer!) together. Maybe. Just a hunch….

Crocs (not the shoes)

Another week passed already. There are some good things to report about the Mango Tree. The restaurant more than doubled its income in food sales compared with last week. Also, we completed 6 interviews and selected a teacher for the Adult Literacy class that will begin next week. It was a difficult choice, but we are excited about Mr. Gula Thole, the man we selected to be the teacher. Mr. Thole survives on subsistence farming, as do about 95% of the people in the surrounding villages. It is exciting that now he will be able to use his skills to help the community, while also making some extra income for his family.

I also spent some time at the office of PVCW (program for vulnerable children and women) giving computer lessons to Joyce Ngoma, the program head. They have a computer at the office, but no one knows how to do much more than turn it on and off. So, I am giving some tutorials (with the little knowledge I have about computers!) on how to use the computer’s programs like Microsoft Word and Excel.

My Sundays are proving to be the day for new adventures. In church this week I noticed 3 other musungus in the pews across the aisle. After church we met and they invited me to join them on a day trip to Kapishya Hot Springs and a canoe trip down the Ishiba Ng'andu River. I accepted their invitation gladly, ran back to my room to pack a quick lunch and then jumped in their red land cruiser. We were off. It is about 1.5 hrs north of Chilonga, so we had plenty of time to get to know each other during the car ride. Vincent and Marie, a French couple, are working at the Chilonga Hospital for 2 years. Vincent is a doctor, and Marie helps with administrative matters. Luckily their English is excellent, because my French is definitely rusty! Anna, a friend of Vincent and Marie from Germany, had been visiting for a few weeks.

Vincent and Marie had already been to the River before, so they knew a place where we could launch our canoe about an hour and a half up the river from the Kapishya Hot Springs lodge. Since their canoe could only hold 3 people, Vincent offered to wait for us at the Lodge. As we are about to launch the canoe, I ask about the name of the river and Marie tells me it is "Ishiba Ng'andu", meaning "royal crocodile" in Bemba. “Oh yes? Now, why do you suppose it is named that?” I laugh nervously. Turns out there are quite a few crocs that live along the banks of the lake and adjoining river from which we are currently launching our canoe. In fact, Marie informs me casually, there was someone eaten by a croc in this river just last year. Anna and Marie don’t seem to be too bothered by this startling fact, so I shrug my shoulders as if to say “no big deal”. As we course gently down the river I am on the lookout for any movement in the water or on the banks. “So, uh guys….do you think we should have a plan of action in case we come across any crocodiles??” I ask nonchalantly. “I suppose we should just start paddling fast,” Marie calls from the back of the canoe. Great plan, I think to myself. “Anyway,” she continues, “I don’t think they will try to attack us because we have two paddles.” “Yeah, that’s true,” I say. Two plastic paddles and a rubber boat.

A half hour or so into our trip I was able to relax and enjoy the ride. It was a beautiful day and it was so good to be outside and get some exercise. I admit I was a bit relieved when we rounded a bend in the river and saw Vincent sitting on the patio outside of the Kapishya Hot Springs lodge. We got drinks on the patio and then took a dip in the hot springs. We loaded the boat into the car around 5pm and decided to drive through a neighboring game park before we headed home. We bumped along the dirt roads, dodging potholes, keeping our eyes peeled for any wildlife. It was a beautiful ride. The sun was just beginning to set and every bend in the road seemed to open up to a beautiful plain where we watched zebras roam with impalas, gnus, and antelope.

We reached the main road as the sun was low in the sky and dark was starting to roll in. Vincent went to switch the car headlights on, only to discover that they had randomly stopped working. An 1.5 hr drive on remote roads with about 20 minutes left of daylight, this was not a good situation. With a crisis looming, all conversation in English came to a halt and a torrent of rapid-fire French filled the car. It was difficult to see – and the many dangers of the road included deep potholes that threatened to pop our tires, and the many people riding bikes and walking along the roads (often in the middle of the road) who wouldn’t see us until we were almost upon them. Vincent turned on his turn signal, which was still working, so the dull pulses of light could help us to see what was ahead, and also warn people on the road that we were approaching. “Attention! Il y a un truc a droit!” Anna was in front trying to squint through the dark and warn Vincent of upcoming potholes. After a few close calls with some pedestrians, we knew it was too dangerous to continue all the way back home like this. Just then, we caught a glimpse of the red brake lights of a truck way ahead on the road. We accelerated and finally caught up to the truck. The back lights of the truck was just enough light for us to see the road in front of us, and it served to warn people we were approaching. It was a long drive but we got back safely! It was a good day.

Sunday

It is Sunday. I’m up early for the 7 am english-speaking service at the catholic church. The church building is beautiful – spacious and full of colorful rays of light that stream through the many pastel-colored stained-glass windows. The priest speaks about how the rich will go to hell if they don’t help the poor. I am the only musungu (white person) in the service and I feel many expectant eyes shift to my direction whenever the priest mentions the “rich”.

Take a short nap after the service and am awoken by my cell ringing. It is Foster, the sweet, smiling woman who cleans and cooks at the guest house. I have been glad to have her at the guest house most mornings. She is a petite woman- thin frame and one of the only females I have seen in Africa who does not have an enormous bust. Her skin is clear and smooth – a creamy chocolate-brown color. Her eyes are a slanted almond shape. Her teeth are bright white, very straight, and – amazingly – all there. Every morning I hear the keys rattling down the hall and I know Foster is here when I hear her voice, singing to herself high and sweet, almost childlike. Although she arrives between 7 and 8am every morning she comes to my door shortly after she arrives, knocks gently and sing-songs, “Eleezabet?” Luckily, she has never caught me sleeping late but sometimes I am still in a state of morning confusion – bed sheets tousled and twisted, my hair sticking up in all directions. She doesn’t seem to mind though, “Mashubukeni, mukwai! Goot morning, Eleezabet!” she exclaims cheerfully, flashing her bright smile. She doesn’t wait for my sleepy response before she brushes past me, broom in hand, and begins to sweep the dirt and dust I have tracked in on my flip-flops. I love when she cleans the bathroom in the morning before I am up because this means the toilet will be cleared of all the critters that gathered there during the night: spiders, cockroaches, lizards. There is nothing so annoying as having to perform the duties of a pest exterminator with a bladder that is ready to burst.

So, Foster is on the phone. She is coming to get me to have Sunday lunch at her hut with her family. I am excited to have something to do on a Sunday afternoon, and a chance to get to know this sweet lady better. We walk together through Chilonga, past the stores and marketplace, to the more “residential” section of the village. She leads me to her home – a small hut made of mud, with a grass roof. The yard out front is spacious and tidy, just swept. Her husband, Joseph, walks toward me with a big smile, kind eyes – the perfect mate for sweet Foster. They introduce me to their daughter, Patricia, a teenager, who is bent over the outdoor fire. She is shy, lowering her eyes when I greet her. Leaving Patricia to manage the cooking, Joseph and Foster lead me into their hut. The sitting room is small, but big enough for two small couches, facing each other with a coffee table between them. In the corner of the room is a shelf, loaded with pots and pans, dishes, glasses, mugs. On the walls, covering the rough mud plaster like a patchwork quilt are a 1978 Scotland-Argentina World Cup banner, several pictures of a musungu Jesus with a crown of thorns, a woven picture of Santa Claus’ rosy face with a snow-covered American house in the background. Off of the sitting room are 3 bedrooms. No electricity or running water, although the nice furniture and decorated sitting room tells me they are doing all-right compared to some of the other huts I’ve seen.

We sit and talk of easy things – the weather, my work at the Mango Tree, corrupt politicians, the Chinese who have recently descended on the country to build schools, roads, etc. in an effort to make good relations with the Zambian government. Joseph pours me a glass and assures me the water was boiled and is safe to drink. I thank him and take a tentative sip as he describes the contents: water, mealy-meal, and munkoyo root. It is the color of iced-coffee at Starbucks, with lots of cream. Tastes very sweet, and yet a bitter after-taste. Very grainy. I am not a big fan but I drink it down quickly to try to get it over with. Bad move. Foster jumps up and refills my glass to the brim before I can decline. Oh well, I’ve decided I won’t decline anything they offer. Please God – nothing too smelly, or slimey! Joseph’s older sister arrives and I listen as they talk in Bemba for a while.

Finally, Patricia brings in four covered dishes. I hold my breath and start to silently pray. First lid is lifted – it is nshima, the staple dish of every Zambian meal and I was expecting it – it is very bland (made of mealy-meal, kind of like flour, and water) but I kind of like it. Second lid is lifted: cassava leaves – whew, I like this dish a lot, it is similar to cooked spinach. Third lid is lifted: rice with tomatoes – wow, I’m all set, I think. Suddenly remember Foster asking me earlier if I was vegetarian (to which I said ‘no’ and immediately kicked myself) and I start to get nervous. The last lid is lifted and Joseph announces triumphantly “fresh game, killed at 3 hours (3am) this very morning!” In an effort to verify the fresh factor, Joseph darts into the bedroom and comes out with a plastic basin. “See?” He pushed the basin towards my face so I can see what he is very excited to show me. “Oh, wow” is all I can manage to get out as I look into the basin and see the bloody meat inside. Also in the basin are the legs – still untouched with hair and little hooves. Before I can recover and ask what exactly this was before it became our dinner, Joseph pulls something out of the basin that had previously been hidden underneath the meat. The decapitated head of what looks like a very small deer (without antlers), eyes wide and glassy, stare at me directly. I can almost see the fear in it’s eyes, and I realize the last thing this poor animal saw was Joseph as he prepared to take it’s life – in order to present this feast to me! I feel guilty and nauseous all at once. Everyone starts to serve themselves. Excellent, I think to myself as I select the tiniest and least-revolting piece of dark something from the Pot de Bambi. Joseph immediately starts clicking his tongue disapprovingly and grabs the spoon from my hand. “Eleezabet, you must have more! You are too thin – here, this is the tastiest part.” On to my plate flops two more spoonfuls of Bambi. I say thank you enthusiastically, trying to mask my panic. Lord, please help me to get through this. Upon a closer look, I discover that there actually is no meat on my plate. As it happens, the “tastiest” part of this animal, of which I am the lucky recipient, is in fact the innards. I wish I had been in a clear state of mind so I could have thought to snap a picture, but I was too concentrated on the plate before me to think of blogs and such. I can only describe it as best as I can. There are three large and lovely pieces on my plate and they all look very different. One is smooth, black and flat. I go for that first. Very dense, very black all the way through. Liver, possibly. The second piece closely resembles a human ear: smooth, curled and folded – and about the same chewy texture as I imagine an ear would be. At this point I am sweating. I keep thinking of Fear Factor – and how I probably would rather jump off a building than eat this right now. But I am determined. This will not beat me. I will not let my stomach reject this food. Images of me gagging, losing my dinner in the middle of their hut – the horror of offending and disappointing sweet Foster in such a way keeps my gut in check. I keep shoveling in the nshima, rice and cassava to help it all slide down easier. The final piece on my plate is seriously daunting. A perfectly round, grey, bubble-looking thing about the size of an eye (it isn’t, thank you Lord) is attached to a flat, bumpy piece with a few pieces of hair still attached….I can not even begin to identify and think better not to know. “So tasty,” comments Foster as I take a bite. “Mmmm,” I say. Lord, please.

I am pleased to say I cleaned my plate. As I hand Foster my empty dish I feel like I have just done something extraordinary – run a marathon or something. Still sweating, I lean back on the sofa and send my silent thanks to heaven. I am able to relax as we talk some more. Foster’s 2-year old grandson – completely adorable – waddles into the hut from out in the yard where he had been playing, takes one look at my white face, screeches in terror, and takes off running as fast as his toddler legs can take him. Joseph’s sister says her goodbyes, promising to have me over to her hut for dinner soon. I take pictures of Foster and Joseph and then say my thanks again and wave good-bye. Stop at the Storefront and grab a Coke, hoping that will normalize my slightly unsettled stomach.

All in all, a nice Sunday afternoon. Feeling pleased with myself, empowered. Maybe I am not such a wuss, after all.

My Work

Wow….this past week has flown by. Time in Zambia seems to go much faster than in the States, although you’d think it would be the opposite! Well, so much has happened in the last week. I am finally settling into my weekly schedule. This is what I will be doing while I am here:

The Mango Tree community center – I will be working with the staff at the community center to start some programs (in the next few weeks we are hoping to start a mentorship program for the youth, as well as an adult literacy class). I am also working on ideas to help generate enough income for the center so that it can be self-sustaining within 6 months. So far, the Mango Tree is generating income from the library (membership fees), the restaurant, as well as rent fees for those who want to book the classroom to hold meetings/clubs/classes. Since the center just opened a few weeks ago, the income stream has been very slow but we are hoping that the recently-finished sign will draw people in as they pass by on the Great North Highway. I realized that I in my last post I included a lot of pictures of the center while it was being renovated, but not many pictures of the completed project. Here are some more pictures that will give you a sense of what it looks like now:

PVCW (Program for Vulnerable Children and Women) – I will be assisting Joyce Ngoma, the director and founder of this small NGO in Mpika (the nearest town to my village). This organization reaches out to communities in remote villages by teaching them income-generating skills (like making small rugs, peanut butter, vaseline, tomato jam, etc) and PVCW sells these products for them in Mpika. PVCW also gives communities seed loans and pig loans. I traveled with Joyce and Marjorie, another woman who works for PVCW, to the remote village of Milunga. Here, we checked on the two pigs which PVCW gave the village. The village is required to provide PVCW with 4 pigs in return when the first litter is born. We also met with the Women’s Group and discussed the products that they will be making to sell in Mpika. The women provided us with a delicious lunch before we headed back to town.

I will also be working at the Chilonga Hospital one day per week. Every Friday, mothers from surrounding villages bring their babies to the “Under 5” clinic, where I will help to weigh the babies, chart their progress (the women come to the clinic once a month), tell them what vaccinations they need, and explain what foods to incorporate into the babies’ diet to make it more nutritious (if the baby is malnourished).

So, that gives you an idea of what I’ll be doing on a weekly basis here. Besides that, I’ve been enjoying making new friends here in the village, and getting used to the way of life here. I’ll attach some more pics below. The purple trees that line the road to my house are beautiful...the market where I buy all my fruit and vegetables...hitchhiking is a way of life here- you jump on a passing minibus or the back of a pickup truck and hold on!.....oh, and the roaches....not my favorite aspect of life in Zambia....I have found that the "Doom" cockroach spray is not entirely effective, so my hiking shoe is getting a lot of use :) Thanks again for your prayers and emails!