I spent fifteen straight days in the village before I left. I don’t think I’ve managed to stay that long in the village in about…oh, a year? To be fair, I’ve been running around to workshops and using house days for grad school applications, etc. Plus, honestly, after a while, it just gets really tiring to stay in the village for extended periods of time. I mean, we’re used to living without electricity, running water, or the internet, but none of those things are what would drive me to Chipata for a day or two. Usually, it was the kids. I just had to get away—get some privacy, see some friends. Think about something other than work. Plus, there is so much to see and experience in Zambia that I wanted to make sure I made the most of the opportunity.
Anyway, the last two weeks in my village were pretty typical (aside from all the “lasts” and “goodbyes”). I arrived with two friends, Melissa and Simone, who wanted to check out Chiparamba before I leave. I’m very glad they came along because 1. It’s really impossible to accurately describe my community—it’s big, it’s developed, yet still rural. And it’s really difficult to create the ambiance of my village—and my hut. My hut is falling apart. I do mean that quite literally. It is literally crumbling around me. My walls have giant chunks of brick that are falling away, it’s constantly caked in mud from all the rain, and my windows are not all that secure. Plus, I have a scurrying rat in my roof beams, dirt permanently streaked on my once-white walls, and ants crawling all over the place. That does make it sound worse that it is—yet, it’s all true. Melissa and Simone were both wide-eyed at the reality of my hut, and they commented that Peace Corps should use this as a great example of what a Peace Corps house should not be. Aside from the house, it’s really hard to describe the feeling of where my house is located in the village. I’m surrounded by people. All. The. Time. They look in my windows, walk into my yard, and can easily hold a conversation with me from their yard while I’m in my house. Two. Years. Sometimes, even I question how I managed. But, as many trials as I’ve had in my village, I’m so happy to have stayed and to have worked with people in my community (note: most of the people I worked with did not live in my village itself, but in neighboring villages or the sub-centre). Melissa and Shu are the only two volunteers from my intake that have visited me in the village and I’m grateful to have been able to show them both what I’ve been discussing with them for two years. It’s always beneficial to experience something for yourself before proclaiming that you’ve understood it.
So, Mel and Simone were with me when I arrived back at the village. Unfortunately, I soon came to discover that someone had stolen four water basins/containers from my kitchen while I was away. This, of course, angered me, though I did leave them unsecured. Still, I thought that after two years, I’d be respected enough for people to leave my things alone, whether I was around or not. Guess not. Many volunteers do have issues with their communities trying to take advantage of them before they COS—but still, I was pretty upset, because I wanted to sell those items to the community before I left, and leaving me with just one 20L basin would require me to tap water every day, which is just a chore. Luckily, they distracted me from being bummed out and we had a great few days. I took them to meet Peter Mutale and see the computer lab, which they greatly admired. We also went to take a look at the tree nursery; construction of the tank stand had just been completed, so I was happy to note that. They were both quite impressed with the magnitude of the tree nursery and the effort that Taison and I have both put into the project. We showed them the newly planted red mahogany woodlot and painted a picture of our vision for them. Simone, in particular was pretty excited about the idea and expressed in interest in bringing her own counterpart to take a look at the project and hopefully gain some inspiration from Taison. I, unfortunately, will not be around to see this meeting come to fruition, but I do hope that it happens and that support is given to Taison both from the community surrounding him, as well as the Peace Corps community.
The days that followed Mel and Simone’s departure were pretty typical. I mostly dawdled around my hut: reading, writing, doing yoga, listening to podcasts while lying in my hammock under the stars (potterless and hellmouthy—hell yes!), etc. I arranged to have nearly all of my goods sold by the time I left, and visited my counterparts here and there, just to check in.
I started saying my goodbyes almost a full week before actually leaving. First, on Thursday, I visited the school during their end of term assembly. I bid farewell to the students and teachers with a mostly haphazard speech; I basically just begged all the kids to stay in school and study hard. On Friday, I stopped by the agricultural extension officer’s office to notify him that I was leaving. We had a great conversation and he promised to support the Kaliyoyo Tree Nursery in whatever way he could. That included a hopeful promise of connecting Taison with the SUP project (scaling up nutrition) which requires a large order of fruit trees to hand out to partners and communities in the area. I’m really hoping this becomes a reality and sets Taison up with a solid market in future years. I’m excited to see where this could lead him and the tree nursery!
On Easter Sunday, I went down to see Mutale once again. I enjoyed a nice lunch with him and a few other representatives of the agricultural cooperatives that he runs. In typical Zambian style, the lunch was delayed and we ended up eating about two hours after it was “scheduled”. While we waited, I talked with the few people there and answered all kinds of questions about America (where I’m from, how many are in my family, how old I am, how many kids are in typical American families, etc) and explained how bank accounts work (savings/checkings) and tried to explain how much more expensive it is to visit and live in America. The last was in response to the guests mentioning how badly they would like to visit America and if I could please pay for them to go?? Explaining that just to get to America costs around 200,000 kwacha did not imprint on them the way I intended. Still, I think I reached them when I explained that while a beer here costs around 8 kwacha, in America it costs around 60 kwacha!
On Monday, I spend the day with Taison and his family in Kaliyoyo. His sons and daughters repeatedly begged me to stay for another year—and joked that it was a reality. I made peanut butter with his wife, Florence, by pounding the roasted nshawa down to a paste in the mortar and pestle. It is surprisingly less work than you think it is and the end result is delicious! I also saw the updates on the tree nursery: the water stand and treadle pump were completely set up and the fencing was on it’s way! We shared a delicious nshima meal (munkhwani and chicken with soupu), then we took some photos, the family sang songs for me, and then I bid them farewell.
On Tuesday, I spent most of the day clearing out my house, packing up, giving away goods, and saying goodbye to various neighbours in the village. Tresford also stopped by in the morning to bid me farewell and we had a nice little chat. Then I stopped by the tree nursery one last time to see the progress on the fence (complete!) and to talk with Taison about his plans for planting the orchard. The day got a bit chaotic in the evening, when all the neighboring women came over to haggle over my goods for sale. It took forever for them to decide on actually buying anything and by the end of the night, my house was a mess and I was exhausted. All that haggling really encouraged me to leave the village–it was pretty stressful! I ate my last meal with Doris and her friend, Rhoda, then burned all my old clothes and rubbish before hitting the sack.
On Wednesday morning, I piled all my unwanted goods on my mphasa and haggled a bit more with the kids and women of the village. As soon as the taxi pulled up to my door, everyone grabbed everything off the mat and ran (this was not surprising and I’d been intending on leaving it all for them anyway, but still!) I took one last walk through my house–where the women were already dismantling everything inside of it to take to their homes–and then shook hands with them one last time. I said goodbye to Taison at the chigayo and then we were off. I was a tinge sad to be leaving for the last time, but it still doesn’t seem quite real that I may never be back. And honestly, I’m ready to move on, so overall, I felt pretty content and we drove away from Chiparamba for the last time.
It’s completely crazy to me that it’s already been two years since I moved to Chiparamba and Kasosa village. I have experienced so much in this little village on the outskirts of Chipata. I have discovered so much about myself, my community, and human beings in general. I have learned and grown and been so frustrated it was all I could do not to scream. But, as trying as it was at times, I really appreciate all the people that have stood by me and all the experiences I’ll be taking home with me. I’m hopeful that this is not a final goodbye, but rather a tidzounana: see you later.
Giraffes and Wild Tea 