The Long Haul

The Long Haul

It's amazing to me how little free time I have.  It's like the government didn't send me here to hang out and eat nshima all day.  Let's start from the beginning.  Somewhere over there ought to do.

The weeks leading up to my departure have run the spectrum of emotion.  Yes, I have finally experienced two emotions.  Save your applause for the end.

But for real, I can't believe my luck.  I am truly blessed to have such amazing and supportive friends, and even to keep meeting such cool people as I mentally wrap my head around on things to come.  I may have mismanaged all of my free time at the beginning of the year, but once I had a little momentum it only seemed to push harder in a more fulfilling direction.  The listlessness eventually gave way to a flurry of action.  I have a plane ticket to Philadelphia, so now I just need to throw some crap into a few bags and board that plane.  My sister helped me buy some nice clothing that should last me a while.  I've never had to step up my game in terms of fashion sense on a daily basis, but in Zambia there is an expectation to look smart, especially as a m'phunzitsu.   I am bringing three bags in total: 40, 55, and 65 liters.  Having been able to fit most of my clothes in the carry-on, I decided to bring some goodies as well.  I made room for a slackline and unicycle, which ought to not only pass the time but give me an opportunity to interact with people even if language barriers are present.

I wish it were as simple as just packing bags.  Emotion is another beast altogether.

My social sphere (yes, it's totally three dimensional) has been buzzing just as much.  I couldn't stop meeting new fascinating friends even if I tried.  From Bishop to Big Sur they come in droves, and I can't get enough.  These fond memories of deep conversations carry me as I start to imagine implanting myself on another continent.

The goodbyes were hard.  But before I got to that point, I had to bring people together. This whole Peace Corps thing seemed like a good idea to gather the troops.  It may have been difficult to get quality time in, but I selfishly wanted to see as many people as I could, if only to give them a hug and wish them well (and demand stories) in the next two years.  With that out of the way, we can begin crying a river.

Waiting is painful, especially in the midst of such a massive change.  Fortunately Jeff came to visit and keep me company as I packed and repacked a dozen times.  My mother had been carefully avoiding me all week, or rather avoiding any mention of a certain little trip to Africa.  In her own ways she expressed her love: on the night before my departure she suddenly appears in my room to hand me a large bag full of shirts.

"Mom... I'm kinda already packed."

But that won't stop any determined mother.  She convinces me to take a couple of long sleeve tees and I stuff them into what little tiny spaces I have left in my bags.  I mean, what's more important: a unicycle or some clothes? Well, as I sit in my chilly hut in Chipembi in one of those t-shirts, I begrudgingly acknowledge that a unicycle can't keep you warm.

My mother is just the sweetest.  I can't help but laugh when she begins to cry, but I'm also reflecting her emotions.  Jeff is present for our little puddle party, so he joins in on the fun.  My sister and mother both hand me birthday cards, and I receive some of Mom's extra special oatmeal cookies to get me through to Zambia.  The reality of leaving hasn't really hit me, but I'm sure it will strike without warning in the months to come, especially when I start craving some of these gosh darned delicious cookies.

Dad takes me to the airport.  We have a nice chat in the car about religion, a topic usually repressed by our family given some strange, unaddressed tension from our childhood.  Nonetheless it proves to be interesting.  He tells me he's not worried about me being in Zambia.  His confidence might be an overestimation of my ability, but I truly appreciate his support.  We say goodbye and he tells me he loves me, which is rare, making it worth something more in terms of our relationship.  My father is a very generous man, and he looks out for his kids in ways I'll never fully realize.

Adventure awaits!  And by adventure I am referring to the thrill of airport security!  Here comes the extended stand up routine about the TSA.  Have you seen this, have you heard about this?

Actually, as anticlimactic as a security line can be, I am totally jazzed to be moving, even if it is at such breakneck speeds.  I feel chatty, open, lucid, calm, excited.  I feel a new sort of euphoria in which my past is bleeding into my future, yet I still feel fully present.  I want to share stories, learn about people, and simply laugh and have some fun.

If only everyone else in this long felt that way!

Staging in Philadelphia was an short but rewarding experience.  This was more or less a meet and greet with some heavy logistics to cover so we could see each other's faces and have some sense of a team mentality as we endure 24 hours of air travel together.  Fortunately Peace Corps seems to attract lots of fascinating people and I have a wonderful time meeting as many people as I can.  Now the real fun begins.  Somebody decided to let me handle our passports, so I really felt drunk with power at 2am on our way to JFK airport on no sleep.  Or maybe I was just still drunk.

Unfortunately the logistics of getting 64 people through the airport in a timely manner requires a lot of leeway in case things go awry.  Nothing of the sort happened, so we have about 6 hours to sit around and just stare at the plane that's going to take us to Johannesburg.  My mental state starts slipping at this point and I find myself highly amused by the expression second nature.  What exactly is in our first nature?  Are there only two natures?  That should give you an idea of the quality of my thoughts.  Though I'm loopy and delirious, I really enjoy hanging out with all of these new people. The situation makes it easier to open up or simply be comfortable with silence.

Yes, it may seem like I'll eventually talk about Africa, but really I think I'll dedicate this blog to the tedium of air travel.  I can't even imagine how Beryl Markham felt during her 40 hour flight across the Atlantic.  No television screen loaded with in-flight movies?  No lights, only the black abyss of darkness and a silent death should she run out of fuel? Yeah, I'll take the crowded sweat box after all.  Also, should I start referring to all other movies as out-of-flight movies?  Hmm, I might be tired again.

The Peace Corps really held our hands as we make this transition.  While I'm glad they protect their assets (bike helmets strictly enforced), I miss the unimpeded flow of travel.  I know the time for exploration will come later, but having to endure meeting after meeting about avoiding malaria has a certain anticlimax to it.  Although lengthy discussions about Mr. D, the loving euphemism for diarrhea, prove to be quite entertaining at times.

We spend three days in a hotel doing the prep work for our Pre-Service Training.  PST will go down at the training center in Chipembi, just about 50km outside of Lusaka.  We will be placed in home stays with host families for about three months.  If all goes well, we will be sworn in and eventually move to an even more remote part of the country.  At this point, people are full of energy and anticipation: we still are yet to learn which language we will be assigned, ultimately determining the region we will live in for two years.

The evenings are spent dancing and talking.  The camaraderie is palpable and deeply satisfying.  Something about this situation lends itself to fast friendships and emotional depth.  My roommate, Hunter, a fellow UCSB grad, and I stay up all night talking about relationships and live philosophies.  As much fun as I'm having, I'm also hit with a pang of sadness.  These intense friendships have also been briefer than we realized: our group of 64 will soon split down the middle as we divide into our projects, health and education.  I'll be saying goodbye to Hunter soon, so I remember what Nicole said about single serving friends.  The time is short, so make it worth every second.

The three days pass quickly, and too much transpires to properly put to paper.  People are eager to share their old lives as well as find out about their imminent futures.  I am one of them.

On Saturday, the day of our departure from the capital, we finally receive our assignments.  I will be learning Nyanja, one of six written languages found in Zambia.  There are dozens more dialects to be found in this country, but only a handful are taught in schools.  Nyanja is spoken predominantly in the eastern region of the country.    At this point all regions seem the same, but I'm also particularly happy with the people who will be learning this language alongside me.  We will all be starting off on similar struggles, but I find it especially cool that only five other people in this batch of trainees will learn this language.  You can't help but feel special.  And with that, you certainly feel a sort of honor and privilege.

To Jay, Victoria, Mimi, Robin, and Adrienne, my new cohort—and certainly commiserators as we move forward with this momentous struggle ahead.  I look forward to knowing you better.

We arrive at the training center in Chipembi in the late afternoon.  After meeting our instructors for the languages we will be learning, we are treated to a brief language lesson before meeting our host families.  I'm pretty much fluent at this point.  Muli bwanji!  Bwino, bwino, zikomo kwambiri!  I won't go on: having to fight auto correct at every word isn't all that fun (though it catches the little typos most of the time; typing on an iPad can be both fast and cumbersome.)

My host family is pretty rad.  Quinn and Edson Lungu have a lovely house at the edge of Suse village.  The PC has constructed a thatch roof hut for me to live in on their property, and they will help me with the day to day aspects of life in a more rural setting as I absorb the language and teacher training.  They have many children who are now in their twenties, so the house is pretty quiet these days.  They help me affix my mosquito net and then prepare some hot water to bathe with before dinner.  The shower area is a tiny stall constructed with more straw thatching, allowing me to see the stars become visible as I wash away the thin but persistent layer of dust I know I will grow to love and hate.  Our first meal together is quite wonderful, especially as they are accommodating to my vegetarian diet.  They will be my life-line in the weeks to come.  Even after just a few nights they are heavily invested in my success.  Having hosted 11 other volunteers, I quickly pick up on the sense of pride they take in introducing people to an intimate view of their identities.

I explore the area when I can, but training keeps me very busy.  An early sunset forces me to table that sort of thing until the weekend.  So for now, I just explore the moment.

Speaking of which, my latrine is pretty fun.  The walls are crawling with neat looking crickets and some very well-fed spiders.  You never know what you'll find when you walk out at night to use the pit.  Sometimes it's pigs, or large spiders and insects.  One night I approached the latrine to see a pair of amber eyes illuminated by my headlamp.  They stared at me for a moment before darting back into the trees.  Every now and then I'll open up the latrine cover to see a very fuzzy caterpillar hanging out by the hole.  Lucky for it I am really good at pooping into a six inch diameter target.  Boom!

On that note, I will have to put a rather large pin in this whole subject.  There's so much more to write (not just about poop), but it will have to wait until the weekend.  I am still figuring out how I can capture this whole experience, but also just find the time to reflect as well as enjoy this beautiful place.  I'll be sharing more about my host family, the unique cultural exchanges, and the pains and pleasures of rigorous training in the weeks to come!  If you have any questions, send them my way!  Photos may take some time to appear, but they're coming as well.  Thank you all!