Take Whatever Comes

I spent this weekend by myself in the camp, at home trying to recover from whatever illness overcame me in the last week. Though I've spent much of the time in bed, I managed to get to the market to buy some vegetables and learn how to start a fire with coals, a candle, a cardboard box, and some matches. I find it difficult to feel pity for myself in any capacity, considering what my closest neighbours endure to survive here in this camp.

I have the luxury of spending the day in bed when I feel unwell and having someone to cook for me. I also have medicine and permission to leave the camp at will. I opted to stay in Kala as opposed to travelling to Kawambwa, where a slightly better array of creature comforts exists, because I feel more comfortable here.

This is my home now, even though my mind does occasionally wander back to Colorado. I feel more solidarity with my friends in the camp than any random Mzungus I might find elsewhere, the refugees' opinion of me NOTwithstanding. I can already see progress since I have come to Kala -- I am okay here. I don't feel a strong urge to escape to somewhere else even though life can be quite difficult sometimes. I am calmer even though -- I stress -- this is not to say that things have even generally gone my way, because they haven't. I can smile knowing that when I worry, I'm okay. And that it is also 'okay' to worry. I doubt that I will ever get to a point where I am calm in everything that I do. In fact, I have abandoned that endeavor. The point is not to seek continual calmness but to relax in the unease of being 'in-between.'

When I feel okay inside myself, the whole world seems okay. By "okay" I do not mean to imply that it is without problems or suffering, which would be a ludicrous assertion after the things I have recently seen. It just seems flexible and pliable, whereas at other times, it might seem overwhelming and "solid."

My tolerance for pain and disappointment has most certainly improved since I've been here, including -- in large part -- the pain of realising that I am slowly moving away from some of the most prominent people of my past...

Identities in Flux

More and more I am leaving my coccoon of security and making the effort to connect with my world. This involves a lot of fortitude and patience, especially considering the standard pace of things here. I find myself moving fluidly between identities, coloured by each of the languages -- Chibemba, Kiswahili, English, German, and French. The power outages continue to remind me to be present and to see the impermanent nature of all things which seem to be 'given.' I smile at my efforts to branch out and open up today in Kawambwa. Petit à petit, je deviens meilleur! :-)

The Middle Path

Remember the middle path. Remember that everything and everyone has a hard side and a soft side. Remember to drink water. Don't be too hard on yourself. Dream awake. Keep the big perspective in mind but dwell in the present. Take time to talk to the locals. Give the children hugs. Don't assume that people won't understand. Don't assume that they always will. Defend your position. Offer to clean the dishes -- no, insist. Coexist with others. Appreciate your own efforts. Smile at least once per day (or, better yet, per hour.) Don't hold grudges. Also, don't stand for exploitation. It is the middle path.

The Rotting Stench of Sorghum

Lately, I have been tending to spend much of my time criticising myself for not being where I want to be with my languages, projects, and other endeavors. At the same time, I can never find enough time in the day to fit everything in -- practise this, straighten up that. I find myself sitting and worrying about things that 'will' happen, but haven't. I often do everything but the doing itself!

The ride home from the office is plagued by the stench of rotting sorghum -- a remnant of the last World Vision rations distribution, which was contemptiously dumped on the ground by several refugee recipients. The scent lingers, in fact, intensifies by each coming day. Ironically, the same substance considered too repulsive to receive as food is used in other regions of Africa as a key fermenting agent in their beloved (and equally as potent) banana beer.

Fatigued and a bit on edge, as often is the case.

Dealing, as usual.

"It looked good on paper."

Remember Sister Annabel's technique for saving her village from the soldiers in Vietnam...

Calm is better. You just have to remember to breathe....



A sign we passed on the side of the road today served as a powerful metaphor: "Our war is against HIV, not people with AIDS."

Today has been a lesson in patience and compassion.
...Especially patience.

Opening Up

I have successfully created a mini-phrase book of Bemba words with the help of my friends Joe and Sydney in the UNHCR cantine. I am starting to understand conversations around me (not always to my delight...) I am seeing definite progress, however small. Things are becoming better.

The focus of my attention is on not pushing, not pulling. I am opening up, talking to others, networking, not relying on distant connections, and not running away from 'problem relationships' within the camp and in Kawambwa. Remember: It is the sides of a mountain which sustain life, not the top. Things are far from ideal but, yes, they are slowly improving!


The ride into Kawambwa this morning was phenomenal. It was so refreshing to ride through the Zambian countryside on a cool, sunny day on the back of an open truck bed, clinging on for dear life, wind and dust blowing about, seeing the people in the passing villages waving and smiling, feeling free...

Right now, I'm smiling back to my former self waiting at the airport office with my application to FORGE in hand, wishing I were outside enjoying the vast, open skies. I am here!

Friendship

I am hoping that the constant attention and bombardment of requests that comes with being the Mzungu newcomer will wane with time. I really enjoy meeting new people and interacting with other cultures; however, the inherent power dynamic that exists between an expatriate FORGE staff member and a refugee makes me feel very uncomfortable at times. By default, I have to close up and remain somewhat formal because of my position.

I would like to make friends with whom to share anecdotes, feelings, afternoons, meals, and so forth but I get this overwhelming feeling that many people are disingenuous with their reasoning for approaching me -- be it money, a favour, a ticket to the USA, and other things that I cannot provide. Because of this, I often find that my role is to act as a 'nay-sayer.' No, I don't understand. No, I cannot give you money, and so on. A very small minority of people have really strived to cultivate a genuine friendship with me, including C-, Mrs. H. and Charles.

I truly appreciate the respect and care that they have given me since I came to Kala Camp.

Climb On

Scheduled a camera tutorial class with FORGE refugee staff members. Cooked my own dinner. Feeling stronger. Staying present. Climbing on...

Extending my love to the beginnings of this particular journey, which began back at Apex and Centennial Airport. Smiles to Stella's and the library, RJ and the beautiful Rockies.

Happy then.
... Happy NOW.

Peak Experiences

I had a pretty moderate dizzy spell today, which put me a bit on edge. I think it's the sense of losing control that really puts me off, not being able to stabilise myself from falling over. Little by little, I am getting better at communicating with people in the camp, especially with our guard Charles, with whom I practice speaking French every evening outside of our house next to the fire.

I really appreciated a teaching by Pema Chödrön that I read earlier today, which stated that 'peak experiences' aren't really that big of a deal and that only slow, steady change would have a lasting effect. Especially in humanitarian work, one finds that most things progress extremely gradually with little to no actual breakthroughs. (Breakthroughs can be obstacles themselves when they envoke feelings of desire and 'lacking' instead of enriching one's life. They can become an addiction which ultimately stymies true progress in favour of visible, but empty rewards.)

In applying these lessons to communication, I will do my best to be patient with the language/cultural barriers, as I should not expect to wake up one day with a capacity to fully understand others and make myself understood. I can only do my best at every moment with the hope that each day will bring progress from the last.