Thursday, August 14, 2014

Throw Away that "Big Book of Baby Names." You Won't Ever Need it Again.

Zambia is full of great people. People who have no idea that they are walking through life with the best names ever. Scott and I have met a lot of wonderful men and women- many of them just regular Joe Schmoes, but, every now and then, a real celebrity baby name comes along. A name that defies logic and a true grasp of the English language. To honor those moments that make us smile, Scott and I have started an ever-growing list of our personal favorites- by category.

 You're Welcome.

Famous People
  • Bill Crinton
  • Johntravolta
  • Hitler
  • MacDonald's (Yes, it is possessive.)
  • Obama
  • Osama (Conspiracy??)
  • Elvis
The Science Lovers
  • Eukaryote
  • Ehnus
  • Prevalence
  • Fetus
  • Fetuz (For when your baby's cooler than other babies)
  • Geologist
  • Plasma
Royalty
  • Queen
  • Prince
The Lover's
  • Loveness
  • Lovelock
The... Adjectives?
  • Litness
  • Glandy (Possibly the most unfortunate)
  • Fatness
  • Moist (Oh wait, there's that)
  • Moody
The Products of Many Shameful Nights
  • Mistake
  • Guessing
  • Guilty
  • Evidence
  • Taboo
  • Visitor
  • Felonie
  • Doubt
  • Testkit
  • Purge
The ...Dudes
  • Coolman
  • Luckyson
  • Mr. Rinaldo Swagboy (Arguably, the greatest name since people began naming)
  • Smartguy
  • Bigboy
The Products of Uncreative Parents
  • Orphan
  • Same
  • Average
  • Perfect
  • Perfecter (Twins? Their therapist can only hope)
  • Woman
  • Penis
  • Stain (Also see "The Products of Many Shameful Nights")
  • Effort
  • Nurse
The Tech Savvy
  • Ringtone
  • Computer
  • Cyborg
  • Talktime (this is also name for the minutes you purchase on your cellphone- also see "The Products of Uncreative Parents)
 The Show Stoppers
  • Theshow (Also see "The Science Lovers")
  • Talent
The Random Objects
  • Balloon
  • Mask
  • Door
  • Braids
  • Freezer
  • Scissor
  • Coupons
  • Cheese
The Wildlife Enthusiasts
  • Lizard
  • Rooster
Noises Objects Make
  • Guk
  • Rwi

The Dicks
  • Fodick
  • Dick Puta Puta (Also see "noises objects make")
The Defy-ers of Classification
  • Boni face (the space is real)
  • Sustainance
  • Clotrida
  • Evangelister
  • Ask
  • Obey
  • Roller
  • Faides
  • Florida (Why? There are literally no maps)
And Last But Not Least
  • Final
  • End 
Hope you enjoyed! The list grows daily. Keep an eye out for our favorite add and t-shirt slogans- coming soon!

Saturday, June 28, 2014

‘Merica Came to Us!


What ya know good?
Were back and still rock’n Zambia, but I think that it is safe to say that Carrie and I are out of our honeymoon phase with this place. I can’t say that excitement and adventure has totally worn off but we’ve found our stride just moving through the daily routines of our work and life. I guess that “adventure” has just become so common place that now it’s just . . . normal. It's probably that we've just have made a lot of progress in achieving something that we came here to do which is becoming a Zambian as possible. Really more than anything the idea of just spending a weekend locked away with a marathon of TNG is more exciting than having dinner with a chief or exploring some corner of wild Zambia where white people are seen about as frequently as a lunar eclipse. I guess it’s all about perspective, right?
 We now more than ever find ourselves missing the niceties of America and ironically longing to travel on our own terms to new places to break the routine of . . . well. . .traveling on others’ terms. This is why my parents visit was such an amazing event. Firstly, it was an awesome reminder to know that someone loves you so much as to spend thousands of dollars, nearly 4 solid days of travel, countless injections, and the courage to fly into the complete unknown just to visit you. Actually typing it out makes me appreciate it even more.  
 We were able to do so many once-in-a-lifetime things that Carrie and I’s $10 per day allowance would have never given us the chance to do. We went on a three day safari in Chobe National Park in Botswana where we saw literally thousands of elephants, giraffes, kudu, hippos, crocodiles, baboons, monkeys, impala, lions actually feasting on a freshly killed baby elephant, and one giant tortoise. For about a year I have been traveling through rural Zambia and I have never seen any stereotypically African wildlife, but right across the river there are animals every direction you looked. It was truly unbelievable. Thank god we took thousands of photos to remind ourselves it actually happened. We also walked and petted lions and cheetahs, flew over Victoria Falls in a helicopter and hang glider, and cruised down the Zambezi at sunset. Honestly it’s hard to put everything into words. It was just awesome.  
Carrie and I had wished we could have shared more of our work and how we live our life while they were here, but time is always fleeting and travel in this country is just too difficult and slow so we kept it simple and confined to the nicest city in Zambia, Livingstone. One thing that we did clearly notice is how Zambian we have become. Seeing my parents’ reactions, how they managed the food, and how they interacted with people reminded me how Carrie and I were a year ago, still new to Zambia. Which is in stark contrast to how we are now. Now we have our sea legs beneath us and can navigate the seeming disorder that is just inherent in a developing country. There are many many things that we will never understand or appreciate like how lines aren’t a think and every situation where people should line up they just form a chaotic mass of humans all pushing to be  in front or how respect for time just doesn’t happen. But for the most part we’ve come to terms with it and as Carrie said a few days ago, “I’m just so damn patient now.”
Sorry for not posting sooner. Carrie and I are moving 1000KPH on our project and the blog always seems to fall by the way side. We will try to be better. I want to wish my Dad a very happy birthday! We love you! Don’t worry, your really not that old and we have 6 more wonders of the world to see so don’t get to cozy back home.
Talk to you again soon.

-Russpatricks

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Handicapable in the Developing World


Every day I walk down a road that I often despise- the mud, the cavernous ruts, the garbage, the throngs of people, bicycles and the occasional brave automobile. You know, just a treacherous little slip of dirt that burdens me daily. One day, I, the classic, able-bodied complainer that I am, was bemoaning my plight at being forced to walk on such a road. As the 5th group of children ran by to slap my white skin and sprint away, I noticed I was walking behind a man in a wheel chair. The sandy potholes and Himalayan-esque mounds that cover every meter of the 5k+ road were difficult even for the young and fit, so I was stunned to see him puttering along. He struggled with unbearable slowness. After all, he only had one working hand to propel him.

Now my western friends, this is a “wheel chair” in the sense that it is a chair with wheels but I don’t want you to think that it is anything like the image you have in your mind. They don’t have legitimate wheel chairs in this neck of the woods. It was a hand welded metal lawn chair which he attached 2 different size wheels to the outside. The seat looked to have collapsed long ago and had been replaced with a plastic disk- possibly the top of a bucket.

People passed him by the dozen. He moved at a speedy 3 centimeters an hour. As I got closer, you could see that he was older and had an obvious longstanding defect consistent with polio. His one working hand was even misshaped but long callused from turning that wheel. How was he not going in circles? The answer- impossibly small motions. I was faced with that awkward moment where I would pass him. At this point, talking with strangers is not my favorite pass time, but I couldn’t walk to my house knowing that if no one helped him, this man would still be here on this road long after I went to bed. So, I said hello.

He gave me a 6 tooth smile.

“Can I help you?” I motioned pushing him with my hands.

He apologized immediately in Tonga “I don’t speak any English.” So I said it in Tonga and added a quick “but I don’t speak much”. He laughed riotously and put his crooked hand to his forehead. “Okey.”

I’ve pushed my fair share of wheel chairs but this was an extraordinary challenge. The road is truly one of the worst even for land cruisers, let alone for jerry-rigged wheel chairs, so, you know, there was that. But the real challenge was that there were no handles on the chair to speak of, so, I just kind of awkwardly hugged it as I pushed. We chatted a bit but within 4 seconds my small talk was expended. Luckily we had the laughter of every single person within a 1 kilometer radius to fill the silence. He loved every second of it, as if he was the head of a prestigious parade. He waved and chatted to people passing by and they called out to him “look at you with your white driver!” and he would chuckle. Meanwhile, I was near collapse. Arms shook, the sweat dripped and my breath came more rapidly than I’d like to admit. Every time we tackled a hole/rut/sand pit/incline/decline he would hold his breath. When we eventually made it out with him still in the chair, he would say “Ah, my good driva’!”

As we came up to my turn off, I asked him how much further he needed to go and he told me to stop because his brother would come and finish the job. A crowd of ladies gathered and said, “We will take him if his brother doesn’t come. You can go.” I must have looked as worn out as I felt. But I appreciated it that now other passersby were willing to volunteer for the job. I guess it just takes one lumbering, out of place muzungu to show that anyone can help him do this.

I’d give you a cursory platitude here about the struggle it is to be handicapped especially in an area like this but I’m sure it is no more insightful that what you can surmise for yourself. The main moral I got from the experience was that he was smiling before I ever got there to help him and that makes him a much better man than I.

Friday, April 4, 2014

What Scott Does.

Scott here. I know I've been neglectful. This blog was supposed to be for both of us, but after 10 months of being here in Zambia, I find myself posting for the first time. I hope that doesn't reflect poorly on me . . . oh well.

Most of you probably only have a vague idea of what I am doing here in Zambia. But most of you know that for 6 years prior to joining the PC, I worked in recycling and solid waste management. I use to say that I wanted to get away from waste management and that I didn't want that to be my career. Well, in moving to Zambia I did get away from recycling and consumer waste and I now deal exclusively in human shit.  Step in the right direction? I think of it as being more grass-roots.

Shit here is a big deal. Like HIV/AIDs or Malaria kind of big deal. And yes, ‘shit’ is the politically correct term. I’ll get into that more in a bit, but, now, let me fill you in. Less than 40% of rural Zambians have access to adequate sanitation. Now American ‘adequate’ to Zambian ‘adequate’ is like comparing the Taj Mahal to a sand castle. Here we are only talking about a basic pit latrine made of logs with a floor made of mud with some sort of walls around it (mud bricks, plastic bags, sticks, etc.), and a place to wash your hands with ash water.  No TP, no flushing, no sitting, no roof, no soap, and no hand dryers besides the wind. Lots of smells, lots of flies, and lots of squatting. I hope you see my point. For you scouters out there, think of a more primitive Philmont. 

Now that most of you are disgusted, you might be thinking that, "if that is how the 40% that do have ‘adequate sanitation’ get by, how does the other 60% live?" Well my friends . . . let me use a Zamlish expression- "They shit anyhow." Meaning they just use the bush close to their homes, and they do not wash their hands. Remember, they do not have TP. This is also a culture that uses their hands to eat. Right for eating, left for shitting. Wonder why we shake hands with our right?

Anyways, so now you’re piecing together the problem. Open defecation + flies + not washing your hands = being sick A LOT. 47% of Zambians are stunted due to having fairly constant diarrhea between 0-5 years of age due to fecal contamination of food, soil, water- basically everything.

Now you’re thinking, “Why in the world have they not done something about this before now? I mean the Romans figured it out like 4000 years ago.”  I find myself thinking that a lot too. Two reasons: One, you don’t miss something you have never known before. Not having a latrine and the resultant consequences are just a part of life. They have never known differently. Two, in Zambian culture, it is taboo to talk and almost even think about any bodily functions: sex, pregnancy, masturbation, crying, pain, vomiting, and especially shitting. In some Zambian languages (mind you there are 73), there isn't even a word for shitting.

OK, so now we bring in what I actually do. Enter the Community Lead Total Sanitation program (CLTS). The whole idea is to have trained community volunteers go around and shame villagers into building latrines. My southern friends and family with their refined sensibilities and my other friends with MPHs in health behavior are thinking to themselves, “Shame? Behavior change doesn't work with making people feel bad.” I thought that too, before Zambia, but we are all very wrong. Shame is the only thing that does work and it works really well here. The culture is too turned off by any mention of sanitation that if it is not put into a more confrontational light it won't gain any traction. Believe me, everything else that has been thought of has been tried and failed.

By now, I imagine you have images playing out in your mind of me yelling at a poor Zambian about how bad a person they are because do not have a latrine. I do not do that. I help the people who are doing that, do it better. Actually there is no yelling. Everything is done through village activities like "The Shit Walk," "The Shit Calculation," and "The Shit Eating Display." Notice I used the word ‘shit’ exclusively because that is actually the term they use.  Ironically, I use to get in trouble at work from my boss Donny for saying shit too often, but now I actually have to say it to do my job correctly.

We are now down to the nitty-gritty of what I do. I work for an NGO called Akros Global Health as a Sanitation Surveillance Officer. Basically, I manage the progress and data collection for the CLTS program in 5 districts in Southern Province. Choma, Namwala, Monze, Kazungula, and Sinazongwe specifically, if you cared. Essentially, all of the community volunteers going around getting villages to start building latrines are using a cell phone application to capture data on how well the program is going. And yes, there is actually a fairly good cell network here. I analyze that data, report it up to the powers that be, and tailor my program implementation activities to suit. For instance, if I see through the data and get feedback showing that there is an issues with the traditional leaders not supporting the program then I’ll plan a meeting with the local senior chief to get them on board, or if I see the villages are reluctant to start hand washing, then I’ll meet with my volunteers to reinforce the programmatic elements behind hand washing adoption.  

I really like the work that I’m doing. I definitely have a positive and substantial impact, but as you can imagine, covering an area a little larger than size of South Carolina, means that I’m traveling a lot. Basically always. I thought bouncing around the bush of Africa (keep in mind there are no paved roads in rural Zambia) would be romantic and adventurous. It is adventurous, I guess, but it’s mostly really hot, dusty, and physically jarring. And no, I never see any animals except for the very rare monkey because they have killed them all off for food. You'd do it too, if starvation was a real thing in America. Only on game parks do you see any animals.

The really cool thing is that in many of the places I travel, I am the first white person that a lot of the children and even some of the adults have ever seen. Along with that there is a whole number of weird reactions that you get, but that could the the topic for a post all on its own. I can also say nearly every day that I am the only American in these places. For anyone that has traveled, you know that is basically never something that you can say. Americans are everywhere.

Well there it is. I know it was a diatribe, but that is what I’m doing. For now on, I’ll keep the posts short and sweet.

Love Y’all,
Scott


Please feel free to hit me up with any questions. 

Friday, March 28, 2014

A Series of Strange and Sometimes Unfortunate Events


Zambia is a sometimes beautiful, sometimes sad ,sometimes bewildering place. I thought I’d get a few experiences down in print that have happened to me since I’ve been here. I'm really doing this so that I’ll remember and not convince myself in twenty years I must have made up these completely ridiculous events.
Scene 1:

Arrive home from the market. A goat is tied to the post of our porch.
Me: Oh God, this isn’t a gift is it?!
Scott: I... have no idea.

Scene 2:
Woman carrying an entire twin bed frame on her head. No hands.
That one was just impressive.

Scene 3:
I am sitting on a bus next to a woman. She never speaks, probably assuming I don’t know Tonga. She stares. I try to ignore the fact that the person sitting five inches from my face is looking directly at me. She then proceeds to touch everything I am wearing. I am at this point staring back at her in complete confusion. She is unfazed and touches my hair, earrings, shirt, bracelets, necklace, ring, etc. All in complete silence. Then she stops as suddenly as she started and we both stare straight forward for the rest of the trip.

Scene 4:
One morning around dawn I was waiting in town for early transport to the clinics. As I sat next to the road, a transfer truck pulled in. 15 guys ran to help unload it. As they started, these paragons of manliness began to sing a loud and enthusiastic rendition of Shania Twain’s “Forever and For Always” in parts.

Scene 5:
The day I met Porno and his son, Cyborg.
Scene 6:
As I was making my usual walk to work, a little girl (maybe 4 or 5) ran up and took my hand like we’d known each other for years. She didn’t even look at me she just held my hand. She escorted me all the way to work and dropped me off at the gate of my office. She waved good bye and ran down the road.

Scene 7:

Around dawn, I was walking towards town to catch a cab. In the usual fashion a child comes up beside me to stare. He keeps up with me, staring all the while. I stare forward growing slightly annoyed that this is happening...again. He is looking at my shoes as I turned to match his intense annoying gawking. He looks up from my outfit to find me staring back at him. He lets out a small scream and scampers ahead. Little does he know that we are going in the exact same direction and I being a much larger person am going just as fast as his little scooting sprint. He panics thinking, I assume, that I will soon murder him. He ducks through the market but, I too, go that way through the market. He continues to look back at me in a soul-searing panic. At this point I can't control my laughter. He must believe, at this point, that I am certainly a monster. Eventually, he runs full tilt the opposite direction and I let him think that he's "lost" me and go the other way.

That is my one gift to the children of Zambia.

Scene 8:
Childbirth. Period. I can now say that I’ve caught placenta in a bucket.

Scene 9:
One day while we were far out in the bush visiting clinics, we hit a dove with the cruiser. I was very sad these blue doves were beautiful. The driver stopped, got out, and put the destroyed little bird in a plastic bag. He climbs back inside. Puts the bag in my lap and says, "dinner."
Scene 10:
The day 4 kids peed on me. I don’t really want to remember this one. Just know that it happened.
Scene 11:
One day I was visiting a clinic, with the folks who do Mobile ART (a service that brings meds to rural patients with HIV/AIDS). Crowds of people rushed the clinic. I was busy helping Esnart deliver a baby (I use the term "help" loosely- more like I got in the way while Esnart delivered a baby). I went out to find the In-Charge to find some delivery equipment. Shouts and rapid Tonga came out of the throng of people. I got close and moved through the crowd and found the In-charge holding a woman who was kicking another woman. A third woman had her hands on the weave of the first. "Help!" he struggled. I grabbed the woman with the handful of hair and pulled her back before some other folks finally stepped in and the fight was dispersed. It turns out the three women were wives to a man who was not present. One of the wives supposedly brought HIV into the family and the other women wanted her out. I helped escort the happy triad to the office for counseling. I then went back to the delivery room having completely forgotten why I left in the first place.
Scene 12:
The woman who passed me her baby and went to sleep on a bus.
Scene 13:
The woman who passed me her chicken and went to sleep on a bus.
Scene 14:
One day, as I was trying to get back to Choma, I grabbed a cab. It was a car roughly the size of a Toyota Corolla. They had one more spot and I felt lucky that I didn't have to wait for it to fill up. As we move down the road the cab driver tells the person in the passenger seat to put on his seat because we may go through a check point. The man looks around, hesitating. He takes the seat belt and wraps it twice around his neck. He settles back into the seat satisfied that the command had been accomplished. The driver just stares. Even he can't believe that just happened. He then pulls over and shows him how to use a seat belt in a way that will not actively try to kill him in the event of a fender bender. It was a truly painful lesson to witness. But "what a conscientious cab driver" I thought. As if God just thought of a joke, the driver pulls over again in front of a person flagging us down. "We are already full I say. No more." The driver laughs. The potential passenger then motions 2 other men out of the bushes. What follows is a lesson in body compression and shear dumb luck.
As if this happens all the time, which I'm sure it does, the men assume a spoon chain. We now have five passengers in the back seat crushed and spooning each other with two passenger now in the front seat.  The two proceed to buckle up for safety. I laugh cause why not? The man I'm spooning is palpably uncomfortable being held by a strange white woman. Then we approach the check point. There is no way we won't be stopped. Like no fucking way. We blaze through it like audacious clown car we are and nothing happens. The driver looks back at me and smiles.
"Seat belt" he says.
Scene 15:
I was once pinned in my kitchen for an hour by a cricket. It was the size of a mouse. I was not as terrified as I was mystified.
 
 
Rest in the knowledge that winning moments like these happen to me everyday. I've got more but I'll save them for another time. Hope you enjoyed.
 


Saturday, March 15, 2014

So Zambia Has Gone and Made Me a Beggar for a Good Cause

Hello friends and family!

It is with awkward pride and unbridled hope that I announce I am raising money for a project that I love. I cannot stress enough that you will be riddled with warm fuzzy feelings and tax deductions if you give to this project. So, if that is enough convincing and you need not read further visit this website and donate:

https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=14-611-005

If you need just a bit more info, here's where I break it down for you...

Helping Mothers in Need
SUMMARY

Conditions in rural Zambia make it difficult for mothers to receive care during pregnancy and delivery. Saving Mother’s Giving Life (SMGL) has trained community groups called Safe Motherhood Action Groups (SMAGs) to address mobilization and demand for services by encouraging women to deliver at clinics. Clinics and SMAGs (with support of the community) provide structures where pregnant women can stay at the clinic before their delivery date. These buildings make it easier and safer for mother and baby to access care when the time comes to deliver. These structures are paramount to encouraging skilled care among women in rural areas but many of them are incomplete or have fallen into disrepair. These impoverished communities have given of their time and resources to see that these structures are built but may not have the funds to finish or rehabilitate these shelters once problems arise. And that’s where you come in…
BACKGROUND

Kalomo District in Zambia’s Southern Province is a vast rural area in one of the world’s poorest countries. Housed within this district are 38 health facilities spread out over 15,000 square kilometers serving nearly 250,000 people.
These communities face innumerable challenges and overcome harsh conditions in daily living. Chief among these concerns is isolation and access to basic medical care. Because of these needs, Zambia has one of the highest rates of maternal and neonatal mortality in the world (440 deaths per 100,000 births and 39 deaths per 1,000 respectively). Due to isolated conditions and lack of knowledge concerning pregnancy care and delivery, well over half of all Zambian women deliver at home without skilled attendance during delivery.

SAVING MOTHERS, GIVING LIFE
In 2012, the Zambian Ministry of Health and US Government agencies like USAID, CDC and Peace Corps (along with multiple other partnering organizations) began an ambitious initiative to reduce Zambia’s maternal mortality by 50%. This program titled Saving Mothers, Giving Life (SMGL) addresses maternal and neonatal mortality in a number of areas from systems strengthening down to the community level. The primary intervention used to increase demand and access to care by women is the training of community led groups called Safe Motherhood Action Groups (SMAGs). Partner organizations and area health center staff train twenty community members per clinic area to form SMAGs. These groups are responsible for community outreach and public health campaigning on behalf of mothers and their families. During outreach the members teach women and men about family planning, antenatal care, warning signs, making birth plans, and the importance of coming to the clinic for delivery.

MOTHERS SHELTERS
Even with improved health messages and mobilization by SMAGs, women still must battle long distances to reach the clinic for delivery. Imagine being 8-9 months pregnant or in early labor and having to walk 10-50 kilometers to deliver your baby. Add to that poor road conditions and lack of emergency services like ambulances and you can see why some women opt to risk having a home delivery when their time comes. One way in which SMGL, SMAGs, and Rural Health Clinics attempt to circumvent issues of access is the building of Mother’s Waiting Shelters. These shelters are built on clinic compounds and house pregnant women for up to 2 months before their delivery insuring that they are near the facility during this critical time before the baby is born.

THE NEED FOR AIDE
As a Peace Corps Volunteer working with SMGL, I work with SMAGs to mentor and support their efforts in the community. After a lengthy needs assessment and discussions with SMAGs about the challenges they face, I soon discovered that those groups that did not have functioning shelters often suffered the most when encouraging women to come to the facility for delivery or attend antenatal care visits.

"We can only do so much. We have educated these women- they want to come to the clinic! But they will not stay here on the floor! Their homes are more comfortable. Our community has already given so much for this shelter but it is not enough to make it nice and now the termites have taken the walls. We can’t tell women to walk 40 kilometers when there is not a good place for them to stay. We need help!”
            -   Fellow Chilungwe, SMAG member (Dimbwe, Rural Health Clinic)*
Those groups who have low rates of maternal and neonatal death often site their mother’s shelters as the reason why women access the clinic.

“It is comfortable. Women can feel safe here even when the rains come. Their families can visit, so, they come well in advance and they benefit. We haven’t had a death since the mother’s shelter was built!”
           - Patience Chibwe, SMAG member (Simwatachela, Zonal Health Center)*

These accounts are also supported by ministry and clinic data which correlates that areas with uninhabitable or non-existent mother’s shelters have maternal and neonatal death rates that are 2-3 times higher than those with functioning shelters.
As a volunteer, I have the unique position to connect the needs of these SMAGs and communities to help them obtain the resources and skills they need to improve access to care for women. There are several facilities that could benefit from your support to see that their shelters are finished or restored but because grants through Peace Corps are limited, I have focused on three shelters that have shown the most need in terms of SMAG feedback and clinic delivery data. These Rural Health Clinics have highly committed and enthusiastic communities but need your help to fulfill remaining needs for their shelters.

GRANT AND FUNDRAISING
Each community will provide the man power to make improvements/start construction on these structures but this grant will help provide materials like cement, window panes, paint, beds, etc to make these mothers comfortable and safe. BUT this project would not be sustainable if we were only giving money, so to avoid problems of financing and upkeep in the future we are also providing Incoming Generating Activity (IGA) Training to these SMAGs. This training shows them ways of making money within their communities that will sustain itself for years to come (i.e. raising and selling chickens, investing and running a maize grinder, etc). So we are fulfilling an immediate need for mothers and providing a training that will help for years to come.

I hope to raise at least $5,000 USD for this project but the more that we raise the more facilities we can support! You may be asking- why are you raising money if this is a grant? Good question! The Peace Corps has several small grants that can be used by volunteers but construction projects are a perfect opportunity to involve friends, family, and organizations back home. This helps address the 2nd Goal of Peace Corps which seeks to make Americans more aware of the culture and needs of my host country, Zambia. It also provides a handy website for you to submit donations and provides accountability and assurance that funds will be used appropriately- so you know your money is being spent directly in the communities that need it. Also, by making this a US government grant all donations are tax deductible!

https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=14-611-005

Any assistance you can provide is greatly appreciated not only by me but by the thousands of mothers that will utilize these facilities. Please feel free to share this information with any individual or group that might be interested!

Please contact me with any questions or concerns! I’d love to hear from you!
*Dimbwe’s Mother’s Shelter remained unfinished after the initial community drive and is now crumbling from termites.
*Simwatachela’s Mother’s Shelter has a larger community that was able to contribute more funds to its construction as well as partner organizations that saw that the structure was comfortable and complete.

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Birth of a Nation


Women here are hard as nails (I even saw a woman chewing a nail the other day but she was pregnant, so, she was probably just getting on top of an iron deficiency). To lend an example to this statement, I recently witnessed a woman give birth (I've actually witnessed several at this point but this one was special because it was my first). Because all clinics here are barely staffed by trained professionals, the midwives I travel with end up attending deliveries while we are at the clinic. I was unfortunately in the ward when a woman was in labor and was ushered into the delivery room with the midwives when they realized her time had come.

"You will see this, come we will show you."

I had no means of escape, so, I stood in the corner as this woman attempted to bring life into the world. 2 things to note about giving birth in Zambia 1) they give birth completely naked 2) they make no noise. Not a grunt. Not a whimper. Most women hear live under the belief that showing pain/making noise will cause their babies to die or show to others that you are not a strong mother. This being a true Zambian woman, only slow, silent tears dripped down this her face as she pushed a decent sized baby out into the cramped and dusty delivery room. Her nakedness and my complete lack of skill and legitimate reason for being there made me distinctly uncomfortable but the silence left me completely unnerved. In short, it was surreal to say the least and disturbingly beautiful to say the most. I just stood there in wide-eyed silence as they attempted to make the baby breathe. Had the midwives not been there the baby may have died. There was no resuscitation equipment in the labor ward so the midwives had to manually clear the airways. After a few firm slaps, the baby finally let out a screaming breath and the tension of the moment broke.

The look on my face was, I'm sure, not encouraging for mother and child. I think the midwives picked up on my green and contorted expression and tried to encourage me saying, "it looks good!"

I looked around in panic and mumbled, "Sure." Another one of my profound encapsulations of the moment. I felt like a caveman pawing at the ground for the right things to say or the right things to feel.

I did such a great job of doing absolutely nothing that they entrusted me with the task of telling the family. So, I talked to the family in a bit of broken Tonga which they were thrilled about- so much, so, in fact, that they named the baby after me. I didn't realize they were doing that at first they just kept repeating my name over and over again (keep in mind they don't have r's here so they struggled for quite some time pronouncing it). Outside with the family, absent of the metallic smells of blood in the delivery room, I was struck with a strange and fantastic feeling. While still mildly horrified, I was at the same time oddly amped on life- after all, I now had a namesake. I really shouldn't be overly flattered, however, seeing as how they name children after their favorite dairy products here, but, nonetheless, I felt an odd sense of responsibility for this new baby Carrie. I'll probably never see her again, though. I'll just have to hope she makes it past 5 years old, then she'll have a chance of making it to adulthood.

15 minutes after delivery, the woman was dressed, sitting straight up, breast feeding. Her family was gathering her things in preparation for 15 kilometer walk back home. Ready to show the new Carrie off to their men (who were dense enough to be absence from this epic part of life).

I thought to all the concepts I had of birth. Sterile environment, screams of pain, heavy breathing, drama. I found none of it. We forget in our lives of privilege and health care, what we are all truly capable of. I don’t in anyway mean to diminish anyone’s delivery. Were I to give birth right at this moment, I would want the Lamas breathing techniques, standard infection prevention, drugs, I want to look Scott right in his petrified face and tell him never to touch me again. But it illustrates how we take the most basic tenants of humanity and dramatize it. This way is not the best way (far from it really) it was just…different and it's had me thinking about the actual process of life.