GLOWing
Two weeks ago we finally held our girls empowerment camp. Cleverly named GLOW (Girls Leading Our World). GLOW is a very amazing camp that is supposed to happen in every country Peace Corps occupies. Peace Corps Zambia strongly suggests each Province (a province is similar to states in America) try to put on.
The prep work for GLOW starts about 9 months before the actual camp. First with the writing of a grant that will help to fund it and everything after that is planning the logistical nightmare and soliciting donations from local shop owners because the grant money alone will not fully fund the event. Before any of that can even happen there of course has to be chairpersons to plan the event. We, at Eastern Province, decided to hold two one-week camps, so myself and three other PCVs decided to head this camp. Actually I should say five other PCVs decided to head GLOW, but due to medical reasons for one PCV and irreconcilable differences between Zambia and the second PCV we were stuck with four planning the event.
I will leave out all of the prep work boringness from this blog. It was hard work that obviously paid off in the end. When August 15th finally rolled around and it was time to start my week of the camp it was instant excitement. There were eight PCVs all working together to pull this off.
Each PCV brought two, grade 8, girls from their schools to participate in the week long girl power event, as well as a female community mentor who will help to bring all of the knowledge back to the schools and assist the PCV to implement a girls group back at the school. During the week we taught the girls their rights according to the national law and not their village traditional law, we played games with them, public speaking, sex ed, HIV/AIDS education. We stressed to the girls that every time they spoke or had an idea they needed to speak loud and clear and with assertion and confidence… say it like you mean it! Not in an attempt to change their cultural, but in an attempt to teach them to be confident in themselves. A point that was driven home by our loud and proud female community mentors.
If watching the girls change from shy timid individuals to an entire group of positive and confident women because of our sessions wasn’t enough all of us PCVs got to watch and laugh as the ladies showered three times a day…just because they could. Ran around topless…and sometimes completely without clothes…just because they could. Watching them pretend that there was only one person in their beds at night when we tucked them in so that they could stay up until all hours of the night braiding hair and talking about all things that teenage girls talk about regardless of culture. They also found endless amounts of pleasure in washing all of their clothes…daily…just because the phenomenon of running water was blowing their minds.
Of course there could be a lot said about taking these young girls outside of their beautifully simple village lifes and showing them some of the more modern wonders of the world and then sending them back to the village to tell all of their friends about things that they may never see again. But I choose to see the good in it. Being taken out of the village to learn these things gave them the opportunity to be 100% girl without the fear of village elder furrowed brows. This was an amazing experience and by far the most rewarding week of my service thus far!
As they say in Zambia “If you educate a girl you educate a nation.”
September 2, 2011
June 22, 2011
I No Longer Get Grumpy, Everything Is Just Silly Now
The above is a text message I recently sent to a friend when talking about my lack of patience and how it has changed in Zambia. I was on a hitch that took 8 hours to travel a distance that should only take 4 hours. There were many seemingly unnecessary stops along the way. For instance the time we stopped for 45 minutes so that he could get a 1/2 roasted chicken because he was "very hungry," only to stuff it in the cooler, untouched, and trade it two hours down the road for some frozen fish. Oh Zambia.
I didn't quite realize that my outlook was such until I found myself typing it out in T9. If Zambia has taught me nothing else, I have learned that there is no need to sweat the small stuff. It is just time...it grows from nothing in these parts, so what if it takes you all day to travel what should take only a morning. Since writing it out I have found myself in many situations that a year ago would have had me on the phone with my mother preparing bail money, but now I just sigh, let it roll of my back and continue on with my day.
The most recent example of such a situation happened just this week...
A while ago I had this "really good idea" (sarcasm implied) to hold a 7K fun run, because I missed racing so much, and then have a big HIV testing event held after the race. There were going to be PCVs every where so that Zambians could ask all sorts of questions concerning America or PC. There was going to be American music playing from loud speakers at an acceptable volume, we were going to play any given song only once, (Zambians LOVE loud music, and they can play the exact same song over and over again for 8 hours straight, trust me, I've lived it) it was basically going to be one big day of culture exchange in honor of PC's 50th year of existence. My idea was just the race, knowing that I couldn't tackle it alone I recruited a friend to help, and from there the idea grew into what was sure to be an amazing adventure. We spent many days wandering around making contact with NGOs all over Chipata, We walked all over handing out flyers and posting them to make people aware of our idea. We even applied for a grant so that all of our bases would be covered...and then something happened!
The second president of Zambia died, and a nationwide ban was put on celebrations and events until his burial...5 days before our race was supposed to happen. This man gets buried on Monday, so we missed the mark by about 72 hours. Well, no big deal Magz, just reschedule right? You would fucking think so wouldn't ya America?!? Well, shit is just not that easy here. I will have to find a time when all of the PCVs would be willing help again, which is no easy task.
American Maggie would have totally lost her shit and maybe shed a tear or two over this whole thing. (American Maggie wouldn't ever have to deal with this because this shit doesn't happen in America) I was devastated for all of 6 minutes, no tears, and then I took a deep breath and started trying to plan when it could work again.
This was the biggest example of how far I have come in the last 16 months. I haven't saved the world, or even changed it probably, when newer PCVs ask me what the biggest change I've seen in myself is I quickly say that I am more patient now. A fact that my dear friend Casey will be happy to know about. She used to hate how compulsive and impatient I could be. If I had an idea I needed it to happen NOW! That mentality is impossible here...straight impossible.
Climb up over the top survey the state of your soul, you've got to find out for yourself weather or not your truly trying. ~Jason Mraz Lyric
I didn't quite realize that my outlook was such until I found myself typing it out in T9. If Zambia has taught me nothing else, I have learned that there is no need to sweat the small stuff. It is just time...it grows from nothing in these parts, so what if it takes you all day to travel what should take only a morning. Since writing it out I have found myself in many situations that a year ago would have had me on the phone with my mother preparing bail money, but now I just sigh, let it roll of my back and continue on with my day.
The most recent example of such a situation happened just this week...
A while ago I had this "really good idea" (sarcasm implied) to hold a 7K fun run, because I missed racing so much, and then have a big HIV testing event held after the race. There were going to be PCVs every where so that Zambians could ask all sorts of questions concerning America or PC. There was going to be American music playing from loud speakers at an acceptable volume, we were going to play any given song only once, (Zambians LOVE loud music, and they can play the exact same song over and over again for 8 hours straight, trust me, I've lived it) it was basically going to be one big day of culture exchange in honor of PC's 50th year of existence. My idea was just the race, knowing that I couldn't tackle it alone I recruited a friend to help, and from there the idea grew into what was sure to be an amazing adventure. We spent many days wandering around making contact with NGOs all over Chipata, We walked all over handing out flyers and posting them to make people aware of our idea. We even applied for a grant so that all of our bases would be covered...and then something happened!
The second president of Zambia died, and a nationwide ban was put on celebrations and events until his burial...5 days before our race was supposed to happen. This man gets buried on Monday, so we missed the mark by about 72 hours. Well, no big deal Magz, just reschedule right? You would fucking think so wouldn't ya America?!? Well, shit is just not that easy here. I will have to find a time when all of the PCVs would be willing help again, which is no easy task.
American Maggie would have totally lost her shit and maybe shed a tear or two over this whole thing. (American Maggie wouldn't ever have to deal with this because this shit doesn't happen in America) I was devastated for all of 6 minutes, no tears, and then I took a deep breath and started trying to plan when it could work again.
This was the biggest example of how far I have come in the last 16 months. I haven't saved the world, or even changed it probably, when newer PCVs ask me what the biggest change I've seen in myself is I quickly say that I am more patient now. A fact that my dear friend Casey will be happy to know about. She used to hate how compulsive and impatient I could be. If I had an idea I needed it to happen NOW! That mentality is impossible here...straight impossible.
Climb up over the top survey the state of your soul, you've got to find out for yourself weather or not your truly trying. ~Jason Mraz Lyric
June 21, 2011
Visitors
Leaving my family was by far the hardest part of Peace Corps. I will never ever forget leaving the Kansas City airport that cold February day. I remember not sleeping the whole week leading up to it, just sitting up crying thinking about what the next two years would be like without them. I remember loading the car early that morning to depart and not being able to hold it together leaving them to do most of the work. I remember being crammed into the back of my mom's Malibu shoved up against my brother and not wanting to touch him because it was too hard. More than that I remember how he told me that it was okay if my arm rested against his leg, the look in his eye telling me he was trying to soak me in also. I love my brother more than anyone in the world, in fact, I can't fathom loving someone more than I do that kid.
On the other side of me in the backseat of that car was Matt. Matt is an amazing person. We have been friends and lovers off and on for close to forever now and he continues to be there when I need him. He is part of the family now so it was natural that he would be apart of the final send off. At the airport he was the optimistic one, buying funny trinkets to keep my spirits up. When it came time for the final send off he kept it together better than the rest of us.
My final memory of both Zach and Matt was watching tears stream down both of their faces through the tears on my own face as some airport worker told me that I would be okay as she shoved me through the metal detector. I still remember being so thankful for her, I am not sure I would have made it here without that last shove. The last thing I remember both of them saying was "I love you, and we will see you soon."
Well, two weeks ago all of those memories came flooding back! They came to visit. Our reunion was going to happen just like our depature...in an airport. In the days leading up to their arrival I had friends come and visit me in my village to help keep my mind off of how slow time is capable of moving. I thought I had gotten used to this fact being in Africa where time is SLOW when it wants to be, but when you are waiting to see two of your favorite people after 16 months of not seeing them, slow doesn't even begin to do time justice.
So there I am in the airport. I watched their plane land, sick to my stomach with excitement and hands shaking like crazy from nerves. I run down to customs so that I can greet them and hug them and somehow make them understand how much I have missed them both sooooooo much. With every person that clears customs before them I get more and more excited and the tears boil closer to the top, and then my brother comes to the door, and says in his brother voice, "I need your address now. They won't let us come through until they have an address." Asshole is business as usual and I love him more for that than if he had rushed to hug me also. "Well, how are you doing, I'm glad you're here." I say in an almost shrill voice. His response: "Well, I just sat on a plane for 13 hours, I am not great." For those of you that don't know Zach, you are thinking he is a complete dick. For those of you that do, you will understand why I love that asshole so much. 16 months and my greatest fear came to be realized as a waste of my time. I had been so worried that 16 months would change the amazing brother and sister relationship that the two of us have and so many others will never understand. The only thing that he didn't do was punch me, other than that, we were the same as always.
Then came my buddy Matt. Happy, smiling and ready for any adventure I could through at him. He gave me the hug that I have come to know so well in these past almost 7 years. Then to compensate for Zach he said something positive and along the lines of being happy to see me.
Just like that life was normal and more perfect than I had ever known before. We left the airport in a shuffle of bags, questions and haggling taxi drivers.
There are no words to express my happiness watching my brother and Matt play American football with my village kids. Or hearing my favorite kid Joanie saying "Get out my way, Imma gangsta," to Matt and Zach because all he knows is that it makes white people laugh when they hear him say it in his most adorable accent. There are also the memories of me laughing just like my villagers used to laugh at me when my visitors tried to talk Nyanja. I've always felt lucky to be able to experience life in an African village, but to be able to share such an incredible experience with two impressively open minded individuals who I happen to love very much...I'm just so lucky.
Being able to wake up at 5:00 in the morning and go on a freezing cold run with someone who was interested in my running and understood the runners lingo rolling off my tongue was such a breath of fresh air. I've always loved running with Matt. I love running with anyone who has run HCXC, but Matt and I have gone on many runs together. We've finished many runs together, some good and some bad. We ran almost every run at the same pace. That has never happened before. Matt is always much faster than me, or he has picked school or work over running and I can go longer than him. All of my PC friends smoke and think that I am some alien for wanting to take good care of my lungs so just having a running partner for a bit of a run would have been nice, but the fact that I had someone who could match me stride for stride was a really powerful boost in motivation at a pretty important part of a training program. Lucky again.
Going to a really fancy safari lodge as 3 mid-westerns who know absolutely nothing about being classy or how to really conduct ourselves in public without our mothers giving us "the look" from across the room gave me memories that still have me giggling out loud when I think about it. Seeing my brother so relaxed and in love with life that he is almost glowing was something that I never thought I would see. Watching him laugh until he cried because I stuck my finger in the butter because I am a moron is something I will never ever forget. Getting drunk with Matt in a pool at 1:00 in the afternoon from 1.5 beers while Zach is off getting vacation massages...awesome!
Getting soaked in the mist from Victoria Falls and then climbing into a taxi dripping wet talking about all of the things we are going to jump off of tomorrow with bungee cords affixed to our bodies is another memory I won't forget. Watching my brother taste Indian food for the first time with the grunted response being, "This is good shit," in the classy way that only Riley County Kansas can teach you. Or going on freezing cold 14 mile runs with Matt to Zimbabwe after scaring the shit out of him with my creepy hand at 5:30 in the morning crawling through his mosquito net. (I am laughing as I type out these memories.)
My last memory of them is still through streaming tears at an airport, but it is the memories in between those two that will keep me going for the next year until I see them again. I know I am consistently writing about how lucky I am, and you are all probably tired of reading about it, but I am so thankful for the this life. I am grateful for visitors, I am grateful that they could afford to come and I am insurmountably thankful 16 months did nothing to damage two of the relationships I value most.
Take care of all your memories, for you can not relive them. ~Bob Dylan
On the other side of me in the backseat of that car was Matt. Matt is an amazing person. We have been friends and lovers off and on for close to forever now and he continues to be there when I need him. He is part of the family now so it was natural that he would be apart of the final send off. At the airport he was the optimistic one, buying funny trinkets to keep my spirits up. When it came time for the final send off he kept it together better than the rest of us.
My final memory of both Zach and Matt was watching tears stream down both of their faces through the tears on my own face as some airport worker told me that I would be okay as she shoved me through the metal detector. I still remember being so thankful for her, I am not sure I would have made it here without that last shove. The last thing I remember both of them saying was "I love you, and we will see you soon."
Well, two weeks ago all of those memories came flooding back! They came to visit. Our reunion was going to happen just like our depature...in an airport. In the days leading up to their arrival I had friends come and visit me in my village to help keep my mind off of how slow time is capable of moving. I thought I had gotten used to this fact being in Africa where time is SLOW when it wants to be, but when you are waiting to see two of your favorite people after 16 months of not seeing them, slow doesn't even begin to do time justice.
So there I am in the airport. I watched their plane land, sick to my stomach with excitement and hands shaking like crazy from nerves. I run down to customs so that I can greet them and hug them and somehow make them understand how much I have missed them both sooooooo much. With every person that clears customs before them I get more and more excited and the tears boil closer to the top, and then my brother comes to the door, and says in his brother voice, "I need your address now. They won't let us come through until they have an address." Asshole is business as usual and I love him more for that than if he had rushed to hug me also. "Well, how are you doing, I'm glad you're here." I say in an almost shrill voice. His response: "Well, I just sat on a plane for 13 hours, I am not great." For those of you that don't know Zach, you are thinking he is a complete dick. For those of you that do, you will understand why I love that asshole so much. 16 months and my greatest fear came to be realized as a waste of my time. I had been so worried that 16 months would change the amazing brother and sister relationship that the two of us have and so many others will never understand. The only thing that he didn't do was punch me, other than that, we were the same as always.
Then came my buddy Matt. Happy, smiling and ready for any adventure I could through at him. He gave me the hug that I have come to know so well in these past almost 7 years. Then to compensate for Zach he said something positive and along the lines of being happy to see me.
Just like that life was normal and more perfect than I had ever known before. We left the airport in a shuffle of bags, questions and haggling taxi drivers.
There are no words to express my happiness watching my brother and Matt play American football with my village kids. Or hearing my favorite kid Joanie saying "Get out my way, Imma gangsta," to Matt and Zach because all he knows is that it makes white people laugh when they hear him say it in his most adorable accent. There are also the memories of me laughing just like my villagers used to laugh at me when my visitors tried to talk Nyanja. I've always felt lucky to be able to experience life in an African village, but to be able to share such an incredible experience with two impressively open minded individuals who I happen to love very much...I'm just so lucky.
Being able to wake up at 5:00 in the morning and go on a freezing cold run with someone who was interested in my running and understood the runners lingo rolling off my tongue was such a breath of fresh air. I've always loved running with Matt. I love running with anyone who has run HCXC, but Matt and I have gone on many runs together. We've finished many runs together, some good and some bad. We ran almost every run at the same pace. That has never happened before. Matt is always much faster than me, or he has picked school or work over running and I can go longer than him. All of my PC friends smoke and think that I am some alien for wanting to take good care of my lungs so just having a running partner for a bit of a run would have been nice, but the fact that I had someone who could match me stride for stride was a really powerful boost in motivation at a pretty important part of a training program. Lucky again.
Going to a really fancy safari lodge as 3 mid-westerns who know absolutely nothing about being classy or how to really conduct ourselves in public without our mothers giving us "the look" from across the room gave me memories that still have me giggling out loud when I think about it. Seeing my brother so relaxed and in love with life that he is almost glowing was something that I never thought I would see. Watching him laugh until he cried because I stuck my finger in the butter because I am a moron is something I will never ever forget. Getting drunk with Matt in a pool at 1:00 in the afternoon from 1.5 beers while Zach is off getting vacation massages...awesome!
Getting soaked in the mist from Victoria Falls and then climbing into a taxi dripping wet talking about all of the things we are going to jump off of tomorrow with bungee cords affixed to our bodies is another memory I won't forget. Watching my brother taste Indian food for the first time with the grunted response being, "This is good shit," in the classy way that only Riley County Kansas can teach you. Or going on freezing cold 14 mile runs with Matt to Zimbabwe after scaring the shit out of him with my creepy hand at 5:30 in the morning crawling through his mosquito net. (I am laughing as I type out these memories.)
My last memory of them is still through streaming tears at an airport, but it is the memories in between those two that will keep me going for the next year until I see them again. I know I am consistently writing about how lucky I am, and you are all probably tired of reading about it, but I am so thankful for the this life. I am grateful for visitors, I am grateful that they could afford to come and I am insurmountably thankful 16 months did nothing to damage two of the relationships I value most.
Take care of all your memories, for you can not relive them. ~Bob Dylan
June 19, 2011
Water and Sanitation Workshop
If you love having clean drinking water and a toilet very near your home please consider what it would be like if you didn't have those things. When you consider it and decide that it would really suck if you didn't have those things, then please consider donating to my cause. Thanks so much!
Click HERE
PEACE!
Click HERE
PEACE!
May 23, 2011
Would You Rather
Running cross country in college allowed me a lot of time around some really dirty boys. No dirty in the way of cleanliness, but dirty in the way of thinking. They were college boys and there is sometimes nothing you can do about that. Much of what I know today about sex I learned as a result of them. Please do not panic, I didn’t take anything that they said as truth, but they would tell me things and then I would do some research to see if these things were true or false. Sadly for the women in their lives most of what they spoke was complete bullshit so I took it upon myself to educate them on the ways of women. Weather or not they listened I have no idea, if they did I should have gotten more thank you cards from their one night stands and girlfriends.
The dirty boys in my life were also obsessed with a game called Would You Rather. I am sure that many people have heard of this game and probably even played it. “Would you rather have 6 toes or 6 fingers?” Then there is the at home version, “Would you rather have tacos for dinner or pot roast?” I am still pretty sure that no matter what version you have played, the version that took place among me and my guy friends will trump it by way of nastiness. “Would you rather drink of 5 gallon bucket of your own shit or eat barbequed dead baby?” “Would you rather be trapped in a room with an angry gorilla or an angry bull?” I could go on, but I’ll quit while I’m ahead, I could go on, but if I did it would make the dead baby question seem like no big deal. Sorry to you folks at home that have to read this, but this is the reality that was my life during college. Even after some of these fellas graduated from HC, I would still get random “WYR…” text messages. Of course many girls opted out of playing this game, but I am not a quitter and have always been the girl to run around with the boys and since you can’t let your friends down I had to answer…or they would yell and annoy me until I snapped out an answer, “I’D EAT MY OWN SHIT OKAY, I CAN’T EAT A DEAD BABY!” “Yeah, see Magz, was that so hard, all you have to do is answer the question” Stupid boys, but still I continued to play.
When I joined Peace Corps I didn’t know that the game would follow me here. I was so wrapped up in the nastiness of the HCXC version that I had totally forgotten that a milder version existed! The PC version. I would like to enlighten you all now on just a few options that sometimes come up when we are all sitting around chatting….
WYR a baby goat fall into your pit latrine or a crazy woman come into your hut late at night to sweep and pray?
My answer: I’d take the goat. This sounds awful, but they die and crazy women just keep coming.
WYR eat caterpillars, kapenta (dried little fish), or flying termites?
My Answer: While I am all for trying new things, my motto in this country is “If it could potentially fuck up an entire day I am not eating it!” All three of these things fall into that category for me. But if I had to…I’ve heard the termites taste like bacon.
WYR be constipated or constantly shitting?
My answer: Things are supposed to come out of your body, not just sit there. Let it flow.
WYR shit into a plastic bag or a bucket?
My Answer: Bucket. I do it almost every morning. Something about the change in food has me sprinting out of bed at 5:30 every morning and there is no way I could make it too much farther. The mind is a powerful thing, thankfully, because when there are visitors it wakes me up a bit earlier.
WYR shit your self on transport or in your own bed?
My Answer: Both sound MORTIFYING! But the rule here is do not fuck with my sleep. Based on the last answer, you all know that it has been close.
WYR have ants or termites invade your hut?
My Answer: Both have happened. Termites are nicer, they warn you a bit and they don’t bite.
WYR have no matches or no toilet paper?
My Answer: No matches. As you can tell by the questions, shitting is very common here in PC, I never leave home without a good stash of TP.
WYR drink shake shake (nasty chunky corn beer that smells like baby vomit) or officers packets (little plastic packets of liquor that offer good nights but horrible mornings)?
My Answer: I have lived the packets. Horrible mornings, but pretty fun evenings…from what I remember.
WYR live two years without running water or without electricity?
My Answer: After being here for a year now, I have learned to deal without most of the other American luxeries, but literally everyday I crave running water. I miss it so much. I miss hot showers at the turn of a dial and I miss watering things and washing dishes without having to plan for it hours in advance. Water is amazing. Kiss your faucets people. KISS THEM HARD!
In this world there is nothing more submissive and weak than water. Yet for attacking that which is hard and strong nothing can surpass it. ~Loa Tzu
The dirty boys in my life were also obsessed with a game called Would You Rather. I am sure that many people have heard of this game and probably even played it. “Would you rather have 6 toes or 6 fingers?” Then there is the at home version, “Would you rather have tacos for dinner or pot roast?” I am still pretty sure that no matter what version you have played, the version that took place among me and my guy friends will trump it by way of nastiness. “Would you rather drink of 5 gallon bucket of your own shit or eat barbequed dead baby?” “Would you rather be trapped in a room with an angry gorilla or an angry bull?” I could go on, but I’ll quit while I’m ahead, I could go on, but if I did it would make the dead baby question seem like no big deal. Sorry to you folks at home that have to read this, but this is the reality that was my life during college. Even after some of these fellas graduated from HC, I would still get random “WYR…” text messages. Of course many girls opted out of playing this game, but I am not a quitter and have always been the girl to run around with the boys and since you can’t let your friends down I had to answer…or they would yell and annoy me until I snapped out an answer, “I’D EAT MY OWN SHIT OKAY, I CAN’T EAT A DEAD BABY!” “Yeah, see Magz, was that so hard, all you have to do is answer the question” Stupid boys, but still I continued to play.
When I joined Peace Corps I didn’t know that the game would follow me here. I was so wrapped up in the nastiness of the HCXC version that I had totally forgotten that a milder version existed! The PC version. I would like to enlighten you all now on just a few options that sometimes come up when we are all sitting around chatting….
WYR a baby goat fall into your pit latrine or a crazy woman come into your hut late at night to sweep and pray?
My answer: I’d take the goat. This sounds awful, but they die and crazy women just keep coming.
WYR eat caterpillars, kapenta (dried little fish), or flying termites?
My Answer: While I am all for trying new things, my motto in this country is “If it could potentially fuck up an entire day I am not eating it!” All three of these things fall into that category for me. But if I had to…I’ve heard the termites taste like bacon.
WYR be constipated or constantly shitting?
My answer: Things are supposed to come out of your body, not just sit there. Let it flow.
WYR shit into a plastic bag or a bucket?
My Answer: Bucket. I do it almost every morning. Something about the change in food has me sprinting out of bed at 5:30 every morning and there is no way I could make it too much farther. The mind is a powerful thing, thankfully, because when there are visitors it wakes me up a bit earlier.
WYR shit your self on transport or in your own bed?
My Answer: Both sound MORTIFYING! But the rule here is do not fuck with my sleep. Based on the last answer, you all know that it has been close.
WYR have ants or termites invade your hut?
My Answer: Both have happened. Termites are nicer, they warn you a bit and they don’t bite.
WYR have no matches or no toilet paper?
My Answer: No matches. As you can tell by the questions, shitting is very common here in PC, I never leave home without a good stash of TP.
WYR drink shake shake (nasty chunky corn beer that smells like baby vomit) or officers packets (little plastic packets of liquor that offer good nights but horrible mornings)?
My Answer: I have lived the packets. Horrible mornings, but pretty fun evenings…from what I remember.
WYR live two years without running water or without electricity?
My Answer: After being here for a year now, I have learned to deal without most of the other American luxeries, but literally everyday I crave running water. I miss it so much. I miss hot showers at the turn of a dial and I miss watering things and washing dishes without having to plan for it hours in advance. Water is amazing. Kiss your faucets people. KISS THEM HARD!
In this world there is nothing more submissive and weak than water. Yet for attacking that which is hard and strong nothing can surpass it. ~Loa Tzu
May 21, 2011
My Cause
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=611-067
Please donate!
Please donate!
May 11, 2011
Love Life
Today I was Jammin' in my garden with my African Herbsman, Bob Marley. It was the perfect choice of music for a four hour adventure in gardening.
I grew up on garden produce. The only time I had shit from a can was at school, and I hated it usually. Peas, green beans and corn taste awful from a can when you are used to fresh stuff. These are the reasons that my dad gets so pist when I comment on going "green." The Henton household has always been "greener" than most.
Today was a big day in the garden, and perhaps the day when I fell head over heels in love with gardening. When I step into my fenced in sanctuary the troubles go away (the reggae helps also) I am in the beginning stages of currently, but when I finish my garden is going to be pretty fucking rad.
Currently I have 6 beds and 20 tomato plants. I planted the first four and then left for a few days, when I came back my Amai had planted 16 more! What the hell she thinks we are going to do with 20 tomato plants is beyond me. We will probably sell them when they are as green as apples. (Zambians are not the most patient people when it comes to waiting for food)
Today I planted onions, radishes and carrots. My family is not really into the unknown. As it turns out Zambians are not that into flavor or the unknown.
Since I am often gone and gardens require daily care, Amai is second in charge. Then when it comes to harvest, if I am gone Amai gets the goods. I devoted a bed and a half just for her and my Atate. There is a popular veg here called rape (great name huh?) that my Atate is obsessed with so I had to get it for the man. :)
Tomorrow I vow to begin digging before 11:00. Digging beds at African high noon is not a good idea at all, in fact it is fucking stupid, but I keep doing it. My village thinks that white people don't feel heat. My village friends know that it is actually just stupdiity. Many passerbys stopped in today to say "Maggie, it is very hot right now, tomorrow start earlier." I reply telling them that I know. Then as they walk away, under my breath I mutter, I am just fucking stupid that is all...
Tomorrow I have big plans for a small herb garden. (Not of the Bob Marley variety mom, don't worry.) There are going to be some flower beds and a few more beds for veg so that I can cut down on my monthly grocery bill...all 20 dollars of it. :)
I am officially a green thumb now.
"I just want to keep my love life burning" Bob Marley
I grew up on garden produce. The only time I had shit from a can was at school, and I hated it usually. Peas, green beans and corn taste awful from a can when you are used to fresh stuff. These are the reasons that my dad gets so pist when I comment on going "green." The Henton household has always been "greener" than most.
Today was a big day in the garden, and perhaps the day when I fell head over heels in love with gardening. When I step into my fenced in sanctuary the troubles go away (the reggae helps also) I am in the beginning stages of currently, but when I finish my garden is going to be pretty fucking rad.
Currently I have 6 beds and 20 tomato plants. I planted the first four and then left for a few days, when I came back my Amai had planted 16 more! What the hell she thinks we are going to do with 20 tomato plants is beyond me. We will probably sell them when they are as green as apples. (Zambians are not the most patient people when it comes to waiting for food)
Today I planted onions, radishes and carrots. My family is not really into the unknown. As it turns out Zambians are not that into flavor or the unknown.
Since I am often gone and gardens require daily care, Amai is second in charge. Then when it comes to harvest, if I am gone Amai gets the goods. I devoted a bed and a half just for her and my Atate. There is a popular veg here called rape (great name huh?) that my Atate is obsessed with so I had to get it for the man. :)
Tomorrow I vow to begin digging before 11:00. Digging beds at African high noon is not a good idea at all, in fact it is fucking stupid, but I keep doing it. My village thinks that white people don't feel heat. My village friends know that it is actually just stupdiity. Many passerbys stopped in today to say "Maggie, it is very hot right now, tomorrow start earlier." I reply telling them that I know. Then as they walk away, under my breath I mutter, I am just fucking stupid that is all...
Tomorrow I have big plans for a small herb garden. (Not of the Bob Marley variety mom, don't worry.) There are going to be some flower beds and a few more beds for veg so that I can cut down on my monthly grocery bill...all 20 dollars of it. :)
I am officially a green thumb now.
"I just want to keep my love life burning" Bob Marley
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