For all of those who have wondered, I am in fact in Africa! I have been thrown into the excitement and mayhem of the country of Zambia, and technology is rather iffy in this third-world country. That being said, I shall attempt to highlight the main points of the past 6 days.
May 17:
It’s official… I’m on the plane (albeit a very small plane) to fly to Chicago. Dr. Weaver was the first to experience a traveling glitch, in the form of a ticket mix-up resulting in an over-booked flight. Dr. Weaver, the veteran traveler and willing soul, sacrificed herself to take a later flight and meet us in Chicago or D.C. later that evening. In the end, all was worked out and a woman belatedly realized that we were heading to Chicago. In the end we all ended up in Chicago together to eventually continue on to D.C. The group has already proven to be filled with funny, make-the-most-of-a-bad-situation moments because our flight attendant by the name of “Carlito” overwhelmed us with his generosity. While we sat waiting for what turned into a 90 minute delay, Carlito generously offered his own sack dinner to satiate the hunger throughout the back of the plane. With his dinner came the musical talents of our flight attendant, composed of his medical history in Spanish and his rendition of “Arkansas” from “Big River.” This was inspired by our informing him of our schooling in Searcy. Very funny!
We arrived in D.C. to stay at the Sheraton for the night, then awoke early to scarf down a continental breakfast, then wait on the front step for the next 2 ½ hours. We all traveled through security without incident, except from two toothpaste bottles being confiscated (Shanna and mine).
May 18:
Home. What a concept to think of while floating 35,000 feet through the air. After flying for the last 9 hours, the end of our first leg is coming to a close. Restless legs have become my current companion and already my eyelids are growing heavy when they should be opening refreshed. So, back to my original thoughts. Home is many things to many people. When I was little, home was Burke, Virginia. After a week of camp during the summers, home was a 2-story house on Jordan Road. Once I reached high school, I deemed myself a “home-body,” preferring outings with my immediate family over excursions with my friends from school or church. Now, as I am almost half a world away from the familiar, I am led to redefine “home” as shared experiences, acceptance, understanding, and a mutual interest in the interests of the other. This was found on the plane to Chicago as we were eagerly awaiting the return of “Mama Becky.” Home was found in the comfortable silence at the end of the day sitting with Tessa and Ben. Home was found in engaging in conversation of the “wordless book” or in this case, the colored glove with a young woman named Bridgett from Alabama. I was reminded that throughout the world, turmoil, tears, stress, and happiness abound, but God remains ever-constant.
May 19:
We arrived safely to Zambia (Lusaka specifically) after a long journey via plane. I spent some time exploring the area, until we finally regrouped at an upper-scale restaurant named “Rhapsody,” where I ordered a spaghetti dish. During this time, I learned two things about Africa:
1) If ever you have a question as to the heat intensity of typical foods in Africa, DO NOT trust the recommendations of the natives
2) The African people are genuinely sincere, fun-loving people who are as fascinated by the American people as we are Africans
May 20:
“Time for Africa”. We took a long drive out to Kalomo, where we stopped multiple times due to cattle, children, security check-points, and lunch… of course. Lunch was devoured at Tooters, a road-side restaurant consisting of fried chicken and chips (French fries). It was interesting, to say the least. The quantity of grease saturating each bite put Bojangles’ to shame. We piled on the bus to continue our sojourn to our final destination, only to have to unload the vehicle to push it in reverse since the transmission was not functioning at the moment. Four hours later, we finally turned onto the 1.5 mile road (all dirt) to the HIZ house, my home for the next 6 weeks. Dinner included grilled cheese, tomatoes, water, and made-from-scratch chocolate cake. Rooms were assigned and half of the group retired for the evening, while the other half sat in the living room of the Mann house (the girls’ house).
At first, a rousing game of spades ensued, but eventually was forgotten, leaving us listening to Lauren speaking in silly accents from around the world. Nicknames were created and assigned to each member of the summer HIZ-PATH group. After the explanation of my dad’s creativity in the form of naming his first child Lambo Field (after the home of the Green Bay Packers), so my name then became “Bo Field.”
May 21:
Our first day of traveling to the Haven, our second home for the next 6 weeks, occurred today. Unfortunately, Anna and I were terrified of being left behind, but were filled with a sense of relief upon seeing Justin, Cameron, and Brian loading up into Khaki Jackie (the resident Land Rover). Too little too late we ran to get into the 4-wheel-drive vehicle only to discover that B. Weave was taking the PHIZ group to the clinic. As we were in the process of returning to the speech path group, the PHIZ invited Anna and me to be honorary members for the duration of the ride. We quickly grew better acquainted with the other program present because the twists, turns, and “speed bumps” in the road. Every rut we hit threw me inches into the air and inches forward, typically landing on Brian’s side. The bouncing continued, much to the delight of those present, and after a while, reached the clinic, where the PHIZ would be working for the coming weeks.
We immediately entered into a main living room at Haven 1 and were instructed to find a child and hold him or her. I was drawn to a very long and lanky 9-month-old girl named Pauline. She ended up settling into my arms for the next 2 hours, until I visited other babies ranging from ages 6 weeks to 22 months. Leaving that building was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. What hurt the most was knowing that each precious child resided at the Haven because they did not have any family to care for and love. This made me appreciate my family even more, loathe myself for taking the menial things was too seriously, and thank God for blessing me with the opportunity and knowledge to do something, and the heart (although frequently too tender) to feel for the babies.
The groups together returned home via a 30-minute walk through the bush, a beaten path, and a winding dirt road. Lunch was devoured, and then we were taking into the town of Kalomo to explore and shop. I knew that Zambia was a 3rd-world country, but did not truly comprehend the extent of poverty until I walked down the muddied roads, through the sewage-soaked ground, dodging “booths” filled with people willing to do anything to obtain a few kwachas. I bought 2 shetangies while there, to appear more like the locals and less like a visitor. We regrouped for dinner, sharing the most shocking and astonishing revelations before we began a few friendly games of Nertz and Phase 10.
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