Long Time Gone

There are two things that contribute strongly towards preventing me from writing in my blog:

1. My life really isn't all the exciting. How many of you feel compelled to share the daily monotony of your lives with the rest of the world? The daily commute, frustrations at home, what you ate for dinner...

2. My dear readers, you never seem to respond to my blog posts. It is hard to think of writing blog entries when it hardly seems to matter what you write. Perhaps I should write something sensationally controversial. Alas, that is not my style.

So I have come to the conclusion that I just ought to start writing. For the pure and simple joy of writing. Not for you (although I will always appreciate your comments), but for me, as a daily, weekly, or monthly journal of sorts. Please feel free to join me in my pursuit!

In Lusaka, Life Goes On

At 1 am on Monday, May 2 in Islamabad Pakistan, it was 10pm in Lusaka Zambia. I was dozing in front of the television. 40 minutes later, I was fast asleep in bed, snuggled under a comforter and surrounded by a mosquito net. It is amazing to think that during such a quiet, peaceful time, a gunfight began and ended, taking with it the life of Osama Bin Ladin.

When I turned on the computer on Monday morning, at first I thought it was a prank. Confirmation of the same news from BBC and the New York Times convinced me to call a friend - and quietly, I felt a kind of fist-pumping satisfaction - the kind you feel when your team wins, when the good guy overcomes some evil. It is the only time in my life where I have felt the killing of another human being was the "right" thing to do, and that makes me feel a bit ashamed of myself.

Later, we turned on the tv, and alternated between BBC and Sky News for the rest of the afternoon. I don't understand the party scenes I saw coming from the US, and I was embarassed by the Sisqo - wannabbee and teenage blonde girl who somebody decided were worth interviewing.

By September 12, it was clear that most Americans wanted retribution for the events that unfolded a few hours earlier. They wanted justice for the victims, and our leaders told us that that would be achieved by hunting down and killing those responsible. In the terrorist deck of cards, the Ace of Spades was always bin Ladin. And after almost 10 years, he is gone. He will no longer haunt our nightmares. Perhaps we feel stronger today than we did two days ago because we now know that those who attack us will, in time, face our justice. A generation ago, we fought the USSR in proxy wars. Promising lives were cut short, and families torn apart, but we never felt the pain of a nuclear attack on our own soil, perhaps because every Soviet leader and citizen knew that such an attack would mean certain retribution. Perhaps that is the message that Al Qaeda received yesterday morning; you can run and you can hide, but you will be found.

On May 3, I woke up to a morning like any other. In Lusaka, there are no parties in the streets, there are no rallies or parades. Nobody is waving flags. There is no increased security presence on our streets, and I am unworried by the family wearing headscarves where I get my coffee. I am no more proud to be an American than I was two days ago. It seems like a much more dignified response than the one that is being broadcast accross the world.

A facebook poster wrote: "I mourn the loss of thousands a precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy." She then quoted Martin Luther King; "Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."

Nearly 10 years ago, our nation rallied and pulled together in common grief, and we translated that greif into a thirst for vengance. The cruel fact of murder is that the lives that have been lost, that have been changed will never be restored. But perhaps now we can move on. Now that we are no longer thirsty we can open our minds and our ears and find room in our hearts to love our enemy. "Love is the only force capable of turning our enemy into a friend" - Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Bliss

I love to watch the red dragonflies skim across the clear blue water of the swimming pool, their four, lacy wings beating in tandem. I wonder what urge or necessity brings them to this aquatic pilgrimage. One of the things I think I will miss the most when I move out of this apartment will be the swimming pool. It has become a weekend routine for me to move outside, once the threat of a morning shower has passed, spread out the beach towel that Tim & Kiki gave me for Christmas, (a surprising helpful gift in a landlocked country) and lie in the sun until it has cooked me just enough to justify diving into the pool. I find myself feeling much like a marshmallow in the hands of a mature child - I slowly toast each side and then rotate, hoping not to accidentally catch on fire. I realize this is the reason that 40 year old expatriate women have the wrinkles of a 60 year old, but for now, it is bliss. 3 dips in the pool later, and I have finished reading my national geographic; its stories of 2.5 mile long caves and warnings about population growth. I pick up my pillow and towel and make my way across the patio to our apartment, skipping across the bricks that feel like hot coals in the sun. I throw on pants and a t shirt, and make my own weekend pilgrimage to outdoors mall, for groceries to feed me for the next week, and to ogle at the hundreds of souvenir items that are sold in the parking lot here every Sunday. It is a race against the growing afternoon rain clouds, but the walk is only 20 minutes, and I make in before their ominous darkness and occasional rumbles of thunder catch up with me. I am happy to sit and drink a cappuccino under the shade and protection of a large umbrella at an outdoor cafe before finishing my allotted tasks.

Cha Cha Cha Changes....

One of the amazing things about development is how fast things can change. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe it isn't development, just life, and I just don't recognize it sometimes. From my experience leaving home, there are always small differences when I come home again - maybe a new store window in West Newton Square, or a billboard proclaiming "Cowboy Up" (that slogan somehow never made it to Richmond, Indiana), but from my experience here in Africa, the changes are big, and they can happen seemingly overnight.

A few weeks ago, the cellphone network provider 'Zain' was bought out by 'Airtel.' The buyout actually happened months ago, but one morning in December, absolutely everything changed from the purple zain logo, to the red airtel logo. From the vests worn by street vendors, to the billboards, paintings on stone walls, even the watertower in Chelstone all read Airtel. Considering how long it takes to finish just about anything - roads, construction, etc, it was absolutely amazing to wake up one morning to this.

Another example - Over the past year or so, Lusaka has been in the progress of building a brand new mall - the Manda Hill Mall. For the entirety of my time in Lusaka, shopping there has been like walking through a construction site - corridors roughly 3 ft wide and 8ft tall, lined with dry wall, and occasionally opening into a tired looking shop, buffered on either end by the Game department store and Shoprite grocery store. Each time you went, the maze to get from one end to the other was slightly different - an entrance or exit had been sealed, the route had changed, and in the unlucky case you are driving, by the time you left the way out could be different than the way you came in. And then, one day, I arrived to find something completely different - a real mall! Wide, tall tiled corridors opening into fancy shops with the kind of clothes makeup and hair products that had been previously unavailable. There are sports stores, jewelry stores, electronics stores and clothing stores. There is an outdoor foodcourt and fancy fitting rooms. The parking lot is no longer a pile of construction rubble, but a (mostly) orderly area with signs and ground paintings directing you where to go. And there is an escalator! My 5 year old neighbor on entering exclaimed "this is the best day of my life!"

And so now I come to Tanzania. I arrived here Monday night on holiday, and am excited to introduce my family to friends and places that have been like home to me in the past. In some ways it feels like ages since I have been here, but when I arrived and begain the familiar drive from the airport, it seemed like it could have been just yesterday. Walking through the streets, I still encounter people who remember me. When I dropped by backpackers hostel last night, I was asked why I have been out in Monduli for so long. I explained I am actually living in Zambia now. But things are different too... There are a myriad of new shiny mulitstory hotels that have opened their doors since I was here. Dropping by Imma's house, I couldn't believe it was the same place I had left - A complete makeover including a porch with a railing, and computers and large screen tvs with kids playing motorcycle racing and bad guy shooting games. And here is the real kicker - In the frozen section of shoprite, there are veggie burgers. Imagine. There is a fake meat section to the grocery store here - in a town where one of the predominant tribes historically ONLY eats meat. In a town where refusal of meat in your dinner prompts the question "what's wrong with you." So Burger King, McDonalds, wisen up. If you can get a veggie burger or fake chicken strips along with your milkshake in Arusha, you are seriously behind the times in the US.

Enumeration

As I was sitting on my new couch on the porch, writing my most recent blogpost, I was enumerated - that is, I was counted! Before I left the US in May, I filled out the 4 page long census document, listing very basic information (I think it was just name and age) of myself and my roommates. In Zambia, there are enumerators (yes, they wear orange traffic vests that say "Enumerator" on the front, and "2010 census" on the back). Over the past month or so, they have been going door to door at every home in Zambia, counting the occupants. They also have a four page long document which they fill out, but rather than the fill in the blank simple questionaire that I received in the states, this is a combination of fill in the blanks and bubble charts that is reminiscent of 7th grade final exams and #2 pencils.

In additon to being asked my name, age, nationality, marital status, number of kids, location as of October last year and length of continuous stay in Lusaka, I was asked questions such as the presence of a TV, radio, landline, mobile phone, internet or latrine inside the house, material used in the building, and how we dispose of refuse (municipal collection).

Unfortunately, the original person who was responsible for doing our enumeration cheated - she came by and put a sticker on the door saying that we had been counted, when she had never taken the time to actually interview us. She was found out however, and so my friendly counter took off the old sticker, and replaced it with a new one attesting to the fact we are now, officially, counted in the Zambian 2010 census. As Dennis said, "welcome to Zambia." As my guard Alex said, "we are now officially Zambian."

Giving Thanks

A quick look at the left side of my blog informs me I haven't written a post since August. Perhaps the fact that my mom has long since stopped bugging me to update my blog should have been a good indication that I was long overdue. Busy weekend, patchy internet connections and perhaps a bit of laziness have come between me and my blog, but with the Thanksgiving turkey finally finished, I have decided I shouldn't wait until January to start on my New Year's resolution - doing better at staying in touch.

It is a lazy Sunday morning in Lusaka; hot and sunny. A stop by the nearest shopping mall for an iced latte this morning found the Sunday curio market already in full swing. I have already spent far too much money this weekend, so I didn't stay. Perhaps I'll swing by in the afternoon and try to pick up some few last christmas presents.

It is amazing to realize that December is just a few short days away. I find it confusing to think that in another part of the world it is cold - even snowy. In another place, I would probably be playing Christmas music right now, the rule was always no Christmas music until after Thanksgiving. Still, it seems mighty strange to play chrismas music while I sit on my front porch sweating at 10 in the morning, and I can hear the airconditioner humming outside the room of my still asleep roommate.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving feast on Thursday. I took the day off of work, as did two of my American friends, and we cooked quite a feast, all completely from scratch. Turkey, gravey, stuffing, green beans, mashed potatoes, butternut squash, wild rice and quiche all graced our table, as well as many bottles of wine, apple pie and bread pudding. In the evening, we sat around the living room - Zambians and the odd Canadian and Irishman outnumbering the Americans, but all still enjoying the friendship, laughter, and sleepy post meal haze that Thanksgiving brings. Unlike many other holidays, Thanksiving is an easy concept to explain - it is a day to give thanks for the many blessings in your life, and of course having food on our table and friends to share it with are two of the fundemental necessities in life. Many cultures have traditions that celebrate the harvest, including some of the tribes in Zambia. Of course this time of year - the beginning of the rainy season - is not the harvest season, it is the time to till the soil and begin planting, but it still seems a good time to take stock of all the things I am thankful for. I am extremely grateful for the good friends I have both here and all over the world, and was happy to share a feast to honor them. It was also a chance to think of people and traditions I am missing out on - I thought of my brother, cousins, aunt and uncles sitting around a table (likely with many dogs present as well) in Cazenovia, I thought of my dad in Amherst with his mom and brother, and what it must be to celebrate their first Thanksgiving without my Grandfather, and I thought of my mom and grandmother in boston. I thought of Lizzy and her extended family - their annual pie making party, family soccer game and 2 story dessert party. After everyone had left - sleepy and full by 9pm, I turned on the TV. Because I am currently housesitting for someone with the full cable package, I was able to watch ESPN, and managed to turn on the TV in time to see the last 2 minutes of the Patriots game. Afterwards, I talked to my mom and grandma as they made their way to their 4pm dinner reservations.

A Quick Update

I keep writing half a blog post, then failing to complete. Hopefully that won't happent to this one! Instead of trying to write anything deep, meaningful or profound, just some thoughts on Lusaka, and Zambia.

Lusaka is not the prettiest of cities. It is sleepy, flat and dusty (at least during the dry season). But people are friendly, and I am happy to be here and have made it home.

But there are parts of Zambia that are absolutely amazing! Almost a month ago now, Kate, Elena, Mardieh and I headed down to Livingstone, where we met up with former college roommate and fellow MPH-er (only at UMich), Kari, to see Victoria Falls. I can't think of anything I have ever seen that compares, and nothing anyone told me came close to preparing me for the wonder of seeing this natural wonder in person.

A few weekends later, I had the opportunity to go north of the city for a hiking/camping trip with some friend I have met since being here. While Victoria Falls was wonderful for the sheer amazingness (is that a word), this trip was wonderful for a whole host of reasons - the feeling of getting out of the city and being in the middle of nowhere, lying out under the enormous southern hemisphere night sky, hiking a mountain that has no map, and sharing a weekend with the kind of friends who's company you can enjoy even when you are tired and can't find the way down a steep mountain, and who's presence literally keeps you warm in a tent at night!

It would be nice if life in Lusaka didn't go beyond the enjoyment of weekend trips and Wednesday night game nights, but life is even better now that work has become busy. When I first arrived in Zambia, I knew that I'd be sharing the job description I applied to with my roommate and co-intern, and I knew I would be adding more technical work on top of that. The first month or so of work started out slowly, with a joint project that - while I'm sure is helpful to our organization - is, erm, not all that much fun. I am really excited about the project that I have recently started however, and it promises to make me very busy over the coming months.

The NGO wanted someone to look at the issue of resource allocation - particularly looking at how the allocation of monitoring and evaluation trips is done between our central and provincial staff, and if there is a way to improve that process. In taking on this task, it has been clear that the challenge is much bigger, with vast inconsistancies in quality and follow up of reports, and over the next few months I will be working - essentially giving technical support - with our provincial offices and compiling a manual of best practices in M&E. While this means I won't have quite as much time as I had hoped for weekend excursions, I am excited for the opportunity to visit various provinces of Zambia. Ultimately, the work of our organization is to improve the logistics systems that provide commodities (ie, life saving drugs) to people where and when they need them. By improving the process of M&E in the provinces, I will be directly impacting lives - making sure that districts and facilities that are not providing the commodities they should be are recieving the training and follow up they need so that stock outs don't occur. It's kind of cool when you think about it.