Perspectives of a Visitor

It was a once in a lifetime privilege for me and my family to be a guest of the Zambian people and Taylor. We met hundreds of interesting, hardworking and generous people, from the farmers in the NW Province to the street vendors in the cities- not to mention the guides and excellent cooks on safari. We thought we might lose a few pounds here but I’m afraid just the opposite has occurred; lots of new foods to try.
Farmers have a harsh, poor but good life. They are extremely generous to visitors- especially to a “Head of a Great Family”. Men eat alone in the village while children look on longingly from afar as the women and older girls serve and clean up. The men work hard too, but not usually during mealtimes. Taylor bought a goat to celebrate our arrival and it was slaughtered and cooked by the men, but that was rare. While witnessing the slaughter, Ben fainted in the bushes and was compassionately escorted by one of the Village elders to Taylor’s hut where he quickly recovered. Roasting the goat over an open dug out fire-pit was an all day affair. Many other heads of families enjoyed the feast while all the “awfuls” (kidneys, stomach, heart, scrotum)… were carefully preserved for future consumption. The most recent of those attending to have enjoyed goat was two months prior. Two young boys tended the fire and protected the meat from birds and dogs. They were “richly compensated” by Austin with a choice chunk of goat. It was delicate for Taylor to allocate the excess meat lest anyone feel slighted. He seems to have learned that convention well.
While in the village we met several of the farmers that Taylor has befriended and assisted as part of his service. They are very appreciative of some of the newer techniques that Taylor has shared with respect to beekeeping, natural fertilizing, crop rotation, forest preservation, and economizing on water. The Villagers needs are overwhelming. The solution is complicated, but to make life incrementally better is not hopeless.
One of Debbie and my most rewarding experiences on this trip was visiting the excited children in the schools. Debbie very much enjoyed handing out bright colored pencils until she was overwhelmed with demand. The children and the teachers treated us with great respect and curiosity. We felt like we were on Safari only we were the animals. We were introduced by one of the teachers as Mongoloids as they compared our facial features and skin color with theirs. Nearly all had never seen an entire white family. We were the movie-stars and they were the Paparazzi with no cameras. Austin returns to the Village (Dengwe) when we leave tomorrow to help Taylor replace the thatch on Taylor’s hut and learn and enjoy other aspects of village life. Hopefully he will post an entry as well after his longer visit. By their generosity, Taylor was concerned we were causing a minor localized recession. Were it only to be recessions in the Western world were caused by excessive generosity. Austin, as Taylor’s brother, will be accepted into the community as a working member and will not cause such a disturbance by himself.
When talking to the students in class, I asked how many aspired to leave the Village upon attaining adulthood. Only a few brave hands went up. One wanted to be a “generalist”…she meant Journalist. Another, a surgeon. Several wanted to be Pirates…which I found disturbing until I figured out after much discussion that they meant Pilot. None wanted to be miners, but that is where much of their monetary advancement is most possible.
Speaking of mining, we visited the filthy boomtown of Solwezi, where Taylor had to attend a two day conference. The streets were overflowing with people, markets were bustling with hustlers and craftspeople trying to eke out a few dollars on a good day. The largest open pit mine in Africa (copper) will be opening in six months, and many people are migrating to the region in hopes of gainful employment. There is one half-decent road through Solwezi, the rest were a dusty, bumpy adventure. Urban planning is only a dream. We experienced a slight degree of low-level racism as we were singled out as a white family with too many passengers. Taylor had offered two PC volunteers a ride on our way back to the village, and we were stopped at a police checkpoint and had to give the patrol officer a small bribe to continue whilst many extremely over-crowded pickup trucks and vans and buses and people riding on top of trucks were waived through. We were stopped again on our trip as we were accused of a traffic infraction (passing a broken down truck). We learned there is no minimum speed in Zambia, and apparently no pollution standards either. I surmise this is what it is like for many blacks and Hispanics in America even today. Many of the vehicles are in sad shape…it is especially adventurous to drive at night when so many cars and trucks drive with no lights. Those that do have lights like to show them off and greet you by flashing their brights or more often by using their turn signals to seemingly say “I see you, Do you see me?”. Turn signals are most often used for greeting or saying it is safe to pass or not. Zambia is a very friendly country on the road but for the police checkpoints. Most drivers pick up hitchhikers if there is any room in their car…or even if there isn’t!
There are two major newspapers in Zambia; The Zambian Post and the Zambia Daily Mail. Neither apologizes for its blatantly slanted political coverage. The Daily is pro-government/status-quo, the Post is pro-change/anti-government. This was also an interesting discussion item with students and others. The upcoming election will likely usher in a change, but those in power don’t often cede easily. Hopefully, things remain peaceful.
After the village experience, we embarked upon a 250 km bumpy ride to Kafue National Park across two bridge pontoons and very few people. We saw a cobra run over by a forest service truck as we backed up to take its picture. We got the picture, but it’s not too pleasing to the eye. We stayed 4 days in a nice chalet in McBride camp…no power etc., but it was pretty cushy. We saw hundreds of animals we had never seen before as we went in their truck, boat and on walking safaris. The proprietors of the camp are obsessed with Lions, and were more than a little disappointed that a few of their guests were seeing Lions and Leopards, but their own excursions of late were only turning up tracks and other tell-tale signs of their presence.
Towards the end of our trip we visited the tourist-centric town of Livingstone, where we visited the museum and saw the breathtaking Victoria Falls, and took a sunset river- cruise. It was a nice way to end the trip because we had no pressing business other than thoroughly washing the borrowed car and changing its oil and air filters. We were with only immediate family and had little to do…my idea of a vacation. However, upon reflection after returning home, the most memorable and heart-warming experiences were undoubtedly in the village. I have no regrets, but if I were to start the trip over, I would spend more time in the village and less time chasing lions, elephants, mementoes and trinkets from the urban markets and spectacular waterfalls. As a father, I am most proud of the relationships and bonds Taylor has built with his “clients” and his cohorts in such a short period of time. I hope to see some of them again someday.

Tay’s dad…John

mud huts

It happens from time to time. I’ll leave a dish out and then Bam! my hut becomes a dark pit of disaster. Originally upon coming to this continent, I treated my hut much as I treated any number of living arrangements I’d had before. If I didn’t feel like doing the dishes right away, I wouldn’t and If I didn’t feel like hangin my towel, I’d throw it on the ground. However, it quickly became apparent that when living in a small dark mud hut, sloppiness swiftly snowballs into months of not being able to find a second pair of pants . It took me awhile to figure out how to keep this cave of a house organized in such a manner that I could, with reasonable certainty, walk inside and find what I was looking for with my eyes closed. It’s not a battle I have completely won. Every once in a while something will still throw me off my organizational bandwagon and things rapidly collapse into chaos. Such is the current situation. My wonderful family & dedicated readership, was here for the past month. And albeit only in my house for 3 nights as a complete unit and a few with just austin, managed to set off the organizational chain reaction that lands me here, in the midst of a heap of books, clothes, batteries and various useless cords. It’s not that the family was especially messy, it’s that they brought me a lot of stuff. 3 suitcases full in total. Effectively increasing my worldly possessions by 50% and they tended not to have memorized my blindfold proof method of organization. Anyway, there is a mouse running around and I think the mess is hampering Z’s (my cat) ability to effectively hunt. Thus, tomorrow I think I will have to dedicate entirely to the development and installment of a new organizational system—such are the hardships of my life in the peace corps.
My family was here and now they are gone. I should probably write about that. We saw the country for much of what it was, spent time being together as a family for the first time since christmas and took a lot of pictures. My dad has promised a guest blog entry so I won’t spoil all the good stories.
It’s funny how visitors have a way of putting a fresh face on a familiar place. After being here for a year and a half, things have become routine as life becomes, well, life. I feel less and less like writing this blog because the stories feel different to tell when they pertain to people you consider close friends. Back in the states I wouldn’t have felt much like writing about my daily interactions with friends and it feels a bit disrespectful at times to do it here. Having my family here however, has reminded me how damn interesting this place is to those who haven’t tried it before and because of that I figure another blog post or two, in the name of cross cultural understanding, should be forthcoming. In the meantime we’ll have to settle for a post about messy huts as my battery is on its way out and Z has come back inside looking to hunt rats, he’ll need my help—such are the hardships of my life in the peace corps :).


1. a current problem