Falling off cliffs

February 28

You are not going to believe what I did today.

We woke up early and were picked up by a safari vehicle to be driven to the gorge swing. When we arrived, we were treated to an incredible view: a deep gorge carved by where the Zambezi used to flow, now dry and full of trees and life.

Sylvia, Esther, Jackie, Susie, Rachel, Denee, and Sam were invited down to a lookout to learn the basics of what we were going to be doing. First, we were to rappel down a cliff, hike around and back up, take two turns at the flying fox, and then fall off a cliff twice (me attached to Esther, no less, haha).

With that, we walked some 150 meters to the rappelling wall. On the edge of the cliff was a small open structure with a metal trapped door on the edge that opened down to the vertical rock face. We were all outfitted with harnesses (either at the waist for traditional rappelling or full body for repelling pointing down), helmets, and received quick instructions. Although we had planned the order, I was chosen by the employees to go first. My stomach sunk right down. I could see how far down it was and I was incredibly scared! I was attached to the lines and was led to the very edge of the cliff. Breathe! Breathe! I gingerly leaned back, gaining trust in the harness, and took a few small steps down the open trapped door. Gripping my rope for dear life, I was encouraged to begin bouncing off the rock wall as I descended. Even though I knew that the rock was offering no safety, I was terrified to leave it. I took some small jumps anyway and continued my jerky descent. I kept looking down, feeling my organs threatening to drop out of me. Urrrrgh!

Once I was down, I sat down (my legs were shaking so much!) and watched experienced (and fearless) Esther as she (reverse) rappelled down the cliff. It was unreal! When she hit the bottom, we hiked for some twenty-ish minutes and made our way back up the mountain. There, we found the flying fox manned by some employees. We were suited up again and asked how we wanted to fly across it. Two options: one, in a seated position holding the rope, or two, attached by the back flying Superman style. Obviously, there was but one choice for me. When it was my turn, I climbed up a platform that looked like a very short runway. I was attached to the line and instructed to run as fast as I could and then jump off the cliff. Yes. Jump off the cliff. With as little conscious thought as I could managed, I took my position and 3, 2, 1, GO! I ran as fast as I could and leapt off the cliff. Arms and legs straight out, I took flight over the gorge. The ground dropped out immediately underneath me and, squinting, I could just manage to see my tiny shadow below. Gradually, I came to a stop, attached to a small metal line by just two points. A little scary but I was having too much fun to notice. I was reeled back and took advantage of a second opportunity to fly. This time, I had full trust in it and ran as fast as I possibly could. It was just the most fantastic feeling. It was something that I had only experienced in dreams - the chance to fly!

From there, it was time to get to the gorge swing. The gorge swing, which I was doing in tandem with Esther, is a long line that stretches across the gorge with another line that attaches in the middle. After suiting up yet again, we learned just how to fall safely. Attached at the waist, literally, we practiced half-squatting, leaning forward, bum out, heads down, lift toes, fall backwards. Heart racing! We were first to approach the swing. we were attached, said some last words to the camera, and shuffled over to the edge of the platform. It takes a lot of will power to stand with your heels off a cliff. A few more forgotten words were said by the employees and then we were already counting down. 3, 2, 1, lean back, and fall. Esther said that it was like committing suicide and it truly was. Eyes and mouth agape, no air entering or leaving, falling faster and faster but only seeing the rock wall blurring past. And then suddenly you're whipped backward and off over the trees. Just amazing.

We hiked again and returned for another jump. This time, we (well, me) were less afraid and more excited. We fell off the cliff for a second time and it was nothing short of phenomenal.

Holly jolly wet season

February 27

Hi all!

Sorry that I haven't been updating as frequently as before. As you know, I'm no longer in Mongu and no longer in clinical. It's a bit harder to remember to blog when I'm so busy having fun!

Here's a bit of a summary of what I've been up to:

Breakfast at the Falls
We traveled to the Royal Livingstone Hotel (look it up!) and took a speed boat to Livingstone Island. From there, we stripped down to bathing attire and went with a guide to the very edge of the falls. This was seriously among the most phenomenal experiences here in Zambia. We crept, swam, and crab-walked into certain danger and waterfall rainbows. It was amazing. After we were done, we enjoyed tea, scones, muffins, and bacon egg benedicts.

Sunset Cruise
We took a two storey boat out on the river and enjoyed (limitless!) drinks for a few hours. It was a great time and we soon required more vodka to be speed-boated out to us. From there, we ventured to FezBar (a Mexican restaurant) for dancing with our Norwegian friends.

High Tea
Back at the $850 USD per night Royal Livingstone (where we obviously aren't staying), we enjoyed unlimited fine teas, cakes, quiches, sandwiches, cookies, and pastries. It was a really great time and I had lots of fun with Sylvia, Esther, Jackie, Nat, Susie, and Rachel.

Botswana Safari
Just today, we drove to Botswana and enjoyed a long boat cruise. Along the way, we found ourselves simultaneously in Zambia, Botswana, Namibia, and Zimbabwe. After breakfast (and lunch!), we went for a game drive and saw many of the 40,000 to 60,000 elephants, hippos, monkeys, birds, giraffes, impalas, hudus, and many other incredible animals. This was by far the best safari that we partook in.

Gorge Swing, Zipline, and Abseiling
This is tomorrow. Stay tuned!

A jolly, jolly time

February 24

Good afternoon everyone!

I am having a wonderful time! Yesterday, we went back to the (awwwful) Lusaka bus station and boarded Shalom yet again. It was about a six hour drive before we arrived in Livingstone.

Livingstone is an interesting place. I tried to keep my hopes low because I really didn't know what to expect. I knew that it was a tourist destination but it is in Zambia so I didn't know how much... polish it would have.

It's kind of a hybrid of what we've seen thus far. It's definitely a city but it's still a bit rough on the edges. The hostel though is completely different. It's quite a large place and has lots of guests from around the world (lots of Makuwas too!). There's a nice bar and outdoor restaurant, a big pool with a (not) hot tub draining into it, and the rooms are great. Big enough for Sylvia, Esther, Jackie, and me. Aircon too!

If you Google Jolly Boys Livingstone you'll see what I mean.

Suffice it to say, it's beautiful. It's pure luxury compared to what we've experienced thus far (hold for the amazing safari lodge). The people are friendly and it's such a laid-back atmosphere.

Even though this place is heaven, we did leave for a bit today. Some crazies in the group wanted to jump off a bridge in front of the falls. We went along for the ride and it was the most breathtaking sight I'd ever seen. Vic Falls is just phenomenal.

Tomorrow, we're going for a hike with breakfast at the falls and then in the evening we're going on a sunset (read: booze) cruise. Woo hoo!

I'll keep you posted with everything that we do as it happens!

Livingstone

February 24

Hi all!

I'm safe and sound in Livingstone! Updates to follow in a few hours.

Hiking, museums, and orphans

February 21

I can't believe what good luck we've had! It seems as though everyday we have some sort of activity that we can take part in. The other day, we went for a hike, and then a couple days back, we traveled to an orphanage.

On the 18th, we had the option to go with Rachael on a snake hike. We each took cabs to Liloyelo orphanage to meet at their cafe. We enjoyed coffee, tea, bisuits, and softies (pop) with fellow students, a man from the UN, a priest, and a sister. From there, we traveled in the back of a pick-up truck to the base of a big hill. On the lookout for snakes (which we never found), we hiked up the hill with an increasing entourage of children. One boy, in particular, was deaf and kept taking my hand and leading me up the hill, pointing at especially pretty views. Before we knew it, we reached the picturesque top of the hill. We stopped for photos and then headed right back down.

At the bottom, we crammed back into the bed of the truck and drove off toward the museum. Although it was past closing time, they let us in anyway and we poked around. The museum started with photos of various government officials and a lengthy description of how the government functions. Then, there were all sorts of relics and artifacts relating to food, music, travel, and witchcraft. It was actually really interesting and we had a fun time deciphering our deaf friend's curating.

The next day, we were invited to Kids Alive orphanage for a visit. At the front of our house, a large flat bed truck arrived with just enough room for all of us. We learned very quickly that the sides and back of the truck were held together with just a metal peg. While going over one of the typical oversized Zambian speed bumps, one of the pegs faltered as we all bounced around. We could see Jess in the van behind us laughing at us, not realizing that the integrity of the the bed was quickly failing.

Somehow, in spite of the many TIA moments, we made it alive. We were introduced to the kids and quickly launched into games. Then, we were given a tour of the different buildings in the children's village. We filed back outside and played a number of great games including, 'Duck, Duck, Chicken', 'The Lion is Dead', and 'I Do What I Do'.

By the time we had to leave, the kids were covered in stickers, playing with a new soccer ball, and had all sorts of new toys.

And now it's February 21. Our very last day in Mongu. We're getting our PAFs done and then taking the mini-bus down to the crocodile farm. Lots more fun today and then we board the bus to go back to Lusaka tomorrow morning!

Roommates

February 18

I love these people. We each woke up and stumbled out of our rooms into our living room / dining room this morning. First Esther and Sylvia, then me, then Jackie, and finally Nat.

After having a (very fun) surprise retirement party for Fay, we found that we had few dishes, cutlery, and cups left. Undeterred, we each made our own instant noodles in various bowls. Jackie, with her raw noodles in a pot, and me, with my shallow bowl of Coke.

Sometimes I feel as though we're in one of those beer commercials... Miles away from the ordinary.

My defining moment in Africa

February 16

Hi all!

I just got back from the most amazing experience. When I think back to my time spent in Zambia, this will be what I recall.

On Sunday, we ate our "last instant noodles" while we waited for Lihana to come and pick us up. Toni, Sylvia, Esther, and I didn't quite know what to expect. We knew that Lihana ran a clinic in Matoya and that she was South African. That's it. It was a bit of a mystery trip: only four people could go, it occured once and only during the fourth week, and the details of the trip shifted from a two hour walkabout to a ten minute walk.

After working around her dead car battery, Lihana arrived at our house to pick us up. We quickly met Nasilele and Alinan (our translators), Lloyd (an evangelist and restauranteur), and Graeme and Tara (an Irishman and a young South African who were taking us to our bushcamp).

Sylvia and I hopped into Graeme's truck and pulled onto the road to Limulunga. We drove and drove and then drove until we, literally, ran out of road. The street crumbled away into dirt and the dirt eventually gave way to a narrow, carved out path winding through the trees. Although we hadn't planned on arriving in the dark, the sun set anyway.

Graeme successfully navigated us through the swerving and bumpy paths until we arrived into a village. We pulled over briefly for some introductions to be exchanged and then got back in for a much shorter drive. An open wooden structure appeared in the headlights and we drove up to it. Next to it, there was a clearing where we were to set up our tents.

It's kind of an odd situation to drive off into the middle of.. somewhere.. with a group of strangers and set up camp where you will live together for a few days. Although you know that you'll all be friends soon enough, you can't help but wonder what you're doing.

Because of Lihana's advice, I tried to smooth out the sand before setting up my tent. I finally put it together only to be relocated to another tent. With an ill-fitting fly. And a brick for a peg. Undeterred, I plopped all my things into it.

Before long, dinner was ready. Mince and vegetables on rice. We were pretty hungry by then and it was delicious and satisfying. We spent some time around the fire and went to bed.

The next day, we woke up around 0630, ready for our first clinic. Under the rising sun, we could finally see where we were. To the left of the tents was a latrine hidden in the trees. To its right, a barrier for bathing. Out of the woods was the wooden structure and to its left, our semi-circle of tents. Finally, ahead, was a beautiful vista. Long grasses leading out into an endless plain. A modest soccer field to the right and unseen villages in either direction.

After breakfast, we grabbed our six stools, our "pharmacy" (a box of medicines), and our many books and things. We turned left onto the sandy path and walked down past a village. At the next village was a couple of houses. One of the houses was vacated by a woman and her children just for our clinic. She moved elsewhere so that we could see people there.

We moved her few pieces of furniture around to create two different clinical areas. A couch for two nurses and a few stools for the translator and clients, and a two armchairs with a few stools for the rest. Then, we emptied our medications onto a table and we were open for business.

Lloyd and Lihana introduced us and Ali led the people that had gathered around in song. Lloyd then preached for a while and then the clinic was open!

The days went like this: Patients would stream in, we would take their name, gender, age, and complaints. Complete an assessment, jot down our impressions, and prescribe medications. Hop up, gather the pills and solutions, and instruct the patients on how to take them. Up they go and in come some more patients.

It was incredibly busy. In the three days (and a couple of hours) we managed to see nearly 200 patients. We would begin at 0900 and would work solidly until 1700 or later with about an hour break in the middle. Each day, we went back to bushcamp exhausted.

We diagnosed many skin diseases, eye problems, dental issues, muscle aches, angina, and really everything under the sun. After diagnosing, we would have to figure out what to give for it. The books we had were incredibly useful and we were confident about what medications we gave out.

In the evenings, we would get to eat delicious meals (even the nshima wasn't too bad!). Then we would sit around the fire and chat for hours. I quickly came to like Lihana, Lloyd, Nasilele, and Ali. They are all wonderful people who seem like they were born just to help others.

On Wednesday, we managed to run out of patients early and took the opportunity to continue down the path and visit villages. As we walked, we were treated to many neat things. We visited a family preparing cassava and Sylvia and Toni got the chance to try pounding it. Another lady invited us into her home for a tour and she showed us the traditional percussion anklets that girls wear when they start puberty (and then did a little jig for us!)

Further down, we watched an older man as he skillfully put together a grass mat. We walked as far as we could go and visited each village. Everybody was so kind to us and would smile and wave at us as we passed. We shook hands with almost every adult we encountered (Metozi shwani! Metozi hunday. Encha!). Some of the people that we met had previously been in the clinic and so we were able to provide some follow-up care.

On our way back, somebody gave us a big bag of maize (soon to be roasted!), someone else gave us several sugar canes, and Lihana and Nasilele bought a couple of grass mats. Everyone smiled and waved at us some more as we headed back to the village to care for some more people that had arrived.

That evening, our neighbours had caught wind that we were having a bonfire with singing and dancing. Right on cue, as the sun set, people arrived at our camp ready to enjoy the fire with us. We laughed and sang and had a wonderful time under the stars (and there are a lot of stars here!).

The next day, we packed up our things and walked back to the clinic for the last time. We gave care to everybody that showed up and then closed up the house.

Several people came to camp to see us off and I have to say that I was actually quite sad to leave. Everyone had been so kind to us and were very welcoming. We drove off that afternoon and came back to Malingwa.

Overall, it was a phenomenal experience. Lihana gave us lots of independence and we had plenty of opportunity for critical thinking. I really enjoyed meeting the people of Mawekulipe (MAH-way-ku-LEEP-eh). I learned so much during my time there and felt priviledged to provide them with care.

Truly, this has been my most defining time in Africa.

What we WILL miss the most

What we WILL miss the most, in no particular order:

Joel:
1. Hot weather in February
2. Living with the basics (not relying on electricity, internet, facebook, phones)
3. Mini-buses (with 22 friendly locals!)
4. The great people and the ten minute long handshakes
5. Our little-house community (Esther, Sylvia, Nat, Jackie, Susie, Rachel, Denee, Amanda, Julet, and Amy!)

Nat:
1. Mini-buses (regardless of condition)
2. Having conversations with 98% of the people you pass on the streets
3. Being chased by children down the road ("Makuwa! Makuwa! How are you?")
4. Thunderstorms
5. Hearing music on the street wherever you go

Esther:
1. Beautiful sunsets
2. Thunderstorms
3. Mini-buses
4. Oasis chicken souvlaki with Mongu rice and rape (green leafy vegetable)
5. Living with Joel, Sylvia, Nat, and Jackie

Rachel:
1. Thunderstorms
2. Genuine friendliness of the locals
3. Smiling and thankful children
4. Sunshine and heat
5. Beans and cribbage night!

Susie:
1. How friendly people are
2. Living with the basics
3. Seeing free wildlife in their own environment
4. The beautiful, serene landscape
5. The friendships made here

Sylvia:
1. Cheap ciders
2. Beans and crib night with everybody!
3. Mini-buses and cab drivers
4. Meeting so many people all the time
5. Sunsets and hot days and thunderstorms

What we definitely won't miss

What we definitely won't miss, together, in no particular order:

1. Power outages (scheduled and random)
2. Bleaching our vegetables
3. Feeling sticky, sweaty, and hot all the time
4. Pay-as-you-go MTN minutes
5. Sand stuck everywhere
6. Being mugged/pickpocketed
7. Susie won't miss the storms
8. Spiders on steroids!!
9. Flies and "African Killer Bees!"
10. Boiling water everyday
11. Handwashing our clothing
12. Not being allowed to open the fridge for hours on end
13. Being honked at by every single car
14. Hearing "Makuwa!", "I take you home to Malingwa!", "Taxi!", "Shop Rite!"
15. Insanely fast driving
16. Giant speed bumps that rip off parts of the car
17. Sitting outside Shop Rite for an hour while we wait for them to "refuel the generator"
18. Having a choice of just three vegetables
19. Going through nine bottles of bug spray in four weeks
20. Locking down the house prior to sunset and praying that bugs don't get in
21. Constant fear of malaria
22. Bug guts all over the walls
23. Sweeping up insect corpses
24. Having to go to the internet cafe
25. Sweating in all sorts of new places

Oasis: Disappointing as ever

Hello!

We just got back from Oasis.

Oasis, better known as oh-WASS-iss, is the de facto restaurant in Mongu. In Kelowna, we might say, "Hey, want to go out to a restaurant tonight?" In Mongu, however, you say, "Hey, want to go to Oasis tonight?"

There are many places to eat or grab take-away here. Some look like houses and others look like shacks. Oasis is the most restauranty of them all though. It has real tables and chairs, servers and plates, and everything.

Unfortunately, it isn't a good restaurant. I feel as though I am not doing them a terrible disservice by saying this because everyone in Mongu who is going to go there probably has already. Everyone from anywhere else will invariably visit it because it's the only real restaurant.

Now, you must be wondering what the problem with it is.

Firstly, the service is sketchy. The servers are nice enough but you frequently get something other than what you ordered. Today, Esther and I ordered a Coke and a Sprite. The first attempt at this was two Cokes. Esther said, "No, I ordered a Sprite". The server left and returned with a Sprite and a Fanta. I tried, "She ordered a Sprite but I ordered a Coke". On the third try, we found success.

Another issue is the menu. I have been to Oasis at least six times now and I have yet to be able to order a burger. Even though the burgers are featured on page one, some vital ingredient is always missing. Fortunately, I did manage to order a pizza once. It was delicious though it resembled a pizza only in its bread-like base.

Finally, and I know I've mentioned this in the past, but the bills never make sense. Even when we order the meals and the drinks all at once, we end up with between two and eight bills. They aren't separated by who ordered what or even at what time things are ordered. They're mixed up randomly with separate totals on each bill. Occasionally, the server will bring us a calculator so that we can figure it out ourselves. It's truly bizarre.

Oasis is perhaps the worst restaurant I've ever been to. And yet, of course, it is my favourite one here. The food is pretty decent (chicken souvlaki with mongu rice and rape!) and the antics always have us laughing. I just wish that somebody would film a hidden camera show because this place is just priceless.

What we miss the most

What we miss the most, in no particular order,

Susie:
1. Starbucks (soy green tea latte)
2. French toast (with a lot of maple syrup on it)
3. Nachos (with lots of gooey cheese)
4. Sushi (ebi chili mayo)
5. Vanilla bean hot chocolate (from Second Cup)
6. Warm showers
7. Feeling and looking pretty
8. Being clean
9. Martinis
10. Grey Goose vodka

Nat:
1. Rugby and Big White
2. Sleeping without a mosquito net
3. Flashbacks
4. Starbucks (green tea latte)
5. Normal bananas (and fruit in general)
6. Clean tap water
7. Regular use of blowdryer and straightener
8. Being able to lie down on the couch without being in pain (wooden armrests!!)
9. Current music and having an updated iTunes (and Facebook!)
10. Mad Mango (laksa and salad rolls with peanut sauce)

Rachel:
1. Non-stick frying pans
2. Sand-free feet
3. Double tall vanilla soy latte
4. French toast
5. Skating
6. Sushi (yam rolls)
7. Chocolate soufle (from Joey's!)
8. Pizza (without mayo!!!)
9. Straight hair
10. Soup (curry lentil) and sour dough bread

Esther:
1. Starbucks (pumpkin spice latte)
2. Driving my car
3. My zen place (my apartment, bug-free!)
4. Bliss Bakery (NY sandwich)
5. Sushi (all you can eat!!)
6. Wearing high heels
7. My spa dates
8. Mad Mango (laksa!)
9. Bohemian Cafe (BC benny with black coffee!)
10. Cora's (mixed fruit waffle)

Sylvia:
1. Starbucks (cinnamon dolce latte)
2. Eggs benedict
3. Hair conditioner (not 2-in-1!!)
4. Not being sweaty 24/7
5. My iPhone
6. Hamburgers (especially from Original Joe's)
7. Ordering at a restaurant where they actually serve what's on the menu
8. Fresh fruit and veggies
9. Drinking water straight from the tap
10. Snacking while watching movies and TV

Joel:
1. Netflix and torrenting
2. Original Joe's
3. Wearing shirts that aren't V-necks
4. Survivor
5. Not being called MAKUWA, MAKUWA!
6. WIFI at ALL TIMES
7. Steeped tea (from Timmy's)
8. Street addresses
9. Seat belts and bus schedules
10. Mad Mango (ten bowls of laksa!!)

Stage 3

I may have mentioned it before but, before we left, we learned about the stages of adapting to a new culture.

Stage 1: Everything is wonderful and loved
Stage 2: Everything is horrible and hated
Stage 3: Everything is normal

I wouldn't be terribly surprised if my blog turns out to support this theory.

Now, if I had to place myself today, I would probably say Stage 3. It has been three days since I've blogged and I hardly pull out my camera anymore. Mini-buses are a way to get to and from - no longer a novelty. The plants are no longer foreign-looking and the rainstorms are pretty normal now. I've settled in.

But now what kind of blogger would I be if I didn't keep sharing my thoughts and experiences? A Stage 3 one. But I shan't let that stop me! Here are some things that have been on my mind:

The electrical outlets:
These outlets are so bizarre and difficult to get used to. The plug itself is a vertical line on top and two horizontal lines underneath. The problem? Many of our plugs are two circle prongs. Yes, this is because Zambia has two different plug standards. But, with some magic and ingenuity, they work together. Nat discovered one day that if she stuck a pen into the top whole while shoving the circle prongs into the bottom the circle prongs would be accepted. Amazingly, she has retained her higher brain functions. Other point of interest: each plug has its own switch that has to be turned on before it will work. Many kettles of water have sat cold for hours while we waited.

Burn or bury:
When we first arrived, we learned that garbage is either burned or buried. We were very careful to separate our garbage into separate bins. Until we learned that everything is dumped into a pit next to our house, burned, and then covered with sand. There is something very saddening about buying bottled water and then burying the bottle. There are, quite literally, no recycling facilities here. We have tried to switch to glass bottles wherever possible. Glass bottled drinks are cheap but you must return them to where you bought them. They are a bit less convenient but thank goodness they can be reused.

Oasis:
Though touted as the best restaurant in Mongu, Oasis (pronounced here as 'oh-ASS-iss') is the strangest place I've been. The staff is nice enough but everything else is just strange. The bills can't be split but you can expect to receive multiple (five or more!) bills with the various items split randomly. And now that is only if you are able to order anything. We have been at least four times for dinner and have never been able to order burgers. No reason behind it just that "we can't make them today". I've only been able to have pizza once and sometimes shawarma takes an hour and a half to make.

Come a little closer!

February 12

Sometimes I feel as though I'm closer to Zambians than Canadians. Well, in proximity, anyhow. Proxemics (I sure hope I'm spelling that right) is the study of personal bubbles, closeness, and touch. If you broadly generalized Canadians, you might see that they demand quite a bit of personal space. In Zambia, I have noticed the complete opposite.

Touch is part of the culture here. And, in some ways, it is necessity.

Take meeting someone for example. Each time you greet somebody - for the first time or the five hundredth time - you shake their hands. And handshaking involves more touch as well. You clasp hands, shake once, then twist your hands around each others' thumbs, squeeze, revert back to hand shake, and shake again. If you think that the handshake is over, you're likely wrong. Typically, you continue holding hands through at least the introductions. In some cases, you'll keep holding hands until the end of the conversation. If the conversation begins while walking, you may very well hold hands as you walk down the road. From what I understand, it is a sign of friendship and respect. Even still, it still caught me by surprise the first time I walked down the road, hand in hand, with a taxi driver.

Touch is embedded in the culture here but also occurs because it simply needs to. Consider the mini-bus. Recently, I hit a new mini-bus capacity high-score. Twenty-two. Mini-buses have the capacity to reasonably hold perhaps twelve individuals. To fit twenty-two means squashing extra people in each row, crushing a few behind the front row, squatting, facing the rest of the bus. And don't forget ducking people into the sliding door jam! Oh look - your personal bubble just popped! Now you have chickens pecking at you, children making faces, and a big woman shuffling closer to you to fit yet another passenger. And somehow it isn't uncomfortable at all perhaps because it isn't somebody invading your space. Each person in your space is sacrificing their own as well to ensure that more people can get where they're going. It's a 'greater good' kind of sacrifice.

It's been a bit of a shift getting used to all the touch here. If somebody knocks elbows with you back home, it seems perfectly rational to get into a tiff about it. Here, though, it's perfectly good intentioned and it's hard to get upset about something that makes you feel like one of the locals.

Esther rehydrates

February 8

Esther wasn't feeling too well this morning and decided to stay home to rehydrate and recuperate.

I couldn't quite decide if I wanted to travel to Limulunga by myself. I asked Rachel if she wanted to join but she had committed to returning to Malingwa clinic. I thought about going with her but felt that I was also committed. Mind made, I went out to the road to go back to the clinic.

I stepped out to the road and could immediately hear children's voices calling, "Makuwa, makuwa, how are you?" "Fine, how are you?" I reflexively responded. I crossed to the other side of the road to wait for a minibus. I could still hear the word makuwa but in adults' voices too. It was starting to get to me today.

Yes! I'm white! I'm not from here! Many of you have seen us already, though, because we've been here for weeks. It's unbelievable that the novelty still goes on. There is something intensely discomforting about being part of a slim minority and continuously being reminded of it. Everywhere we go, people stare at us. Some point fingers, some call out to us, and others try to catch our attention to impress their friends. The first time it happened, I laughed and felt like I was famous. It wasn't long before I felt more like I was in a side-show.

I pulled out my phone and made a quick call home. I needed some grounding. I needed something to remind me that one day I'll return somewhere where nobody will look at me or speak to me if I don't want them to. It sounds ridiculous but this is a place where we always stand out. It makes me crave anonymity.

With that, the bus arrived and I was off to Limulunga.

When I arrived, I felt like my mind was separating from my body. My legs were propelling me forward while my mind argued to stay behind. It's sort of like when you're new to nursing and you pace outside a patient's room before entering. What will I say? What will they look like? What should I do? And then you just steel yourself and walk in.

I got to the clinic and walked into OPD. Fortunately, Annie was working again and we had a fantastic time. This time, she handed the patients' records to me and asked me to do the talking (and everything else). She would translate and I would ask the questions, jot down the complaints, write out my impressions, and prescribe medications with her help on doseages.

At first, I was nervous to be stepping outside my role like that. At home, I might offer my thoughts but I would never diagnose and prescribe. Here, rural nurses are expected to do all that and with a year less of education. Together, we did our best and I had a really good time and felt confident.

The day zipped right by and, before I knew it, I was right back home again.

Also, side note, on Monday, Esther and I saw the delivery of a baby... placenta! We heard that a woman was about to give birth and we ran over. Moments before we arrived, the baby popped out but we did get to see a placenta ooze and gush out. Delightful.

Kids

February 7

Esther and I just had a fantastic day.

Today, we were scheduled to go to this Catholic compound to help out with a feeding clinic and teach a small class.

We snagged a minibus after waiting for over half an hour in the sun (several full ones went by) and went off to Limulunga. We rode right into town and hopped out at the bus station. I knew from Nat's directions that we had to go to the end of the road and turn right at the fork. We did that only to discover that the road then breaks into three more directions. Unphased, Esther and I took another right and walked for a while.

It was only a few minutes later when we decided that we truly had no idea where to go. As always, when we asked a local, we learned that we had turned the exact wrong way. Remembering when we had tried to find the markets and everybody pointed us in a different direction, we phoned Jess. Fortunately, she knew exactly where we were and sent us right to the compound.

When we arrived, it was a bit of a trick finding the right building but of course we did (eventually!). We met up with Nurse Elizabeth, a retired nurse who now volunteers weekly for the feeding clinic. We tried to help where we could as the babies and caregivers came in for formula. The clinic runs to support babies who are orphaned, have mothers with HIV, or are otherwise vulnerable. Weekly, about 16 caregivers come to receive a tin of formula and some clothing. In return, they are expected to contribute K1000 (0.20USD) to the program. This contribution, while small, is to make the program seem less like a hand-out and more like something that people can feel a part of.

After the feeding clinic, we met up with Sister Peggy. Although I'm not sure, I think that she was in charge of the nursery. She introduced us to the staff and a handful of the many children. We walked with her into the playground and suddenly I felt a little tug on one of my fingers. I looked down to see a tiny child holding onto it, walking alongside me. Then another child on another finger! Suddenly, I had no fingers to spare and kids were holding onto my palms, my wrists, my arms. It was the funniest thing, waddling across the playground, at least twenty (if not more) kids attached to every bit of my arms.

Before long, we had to shake free of the kids so that they could go to class. The classes were these round huts sitting on concrete slabs. We were to teach a brief lesson on handwashing to the youngest children. As I ducked down and stepped into the hut, I squinted to see what was inside. My eyes adjusted and I saw some fifty other sets of eyes looking back in a big circle around the hut. Esther and I walked into the centre and a teacher brought in a couple of basins of water. We had a great time teaching while the teachers translated and then invited the kids, ten at a time, to squat down with us and practice washing their hands. It was super fun and we awarded each one of them with a sticker.

And then we were done! It passed by so quickly. Sister Peggy invited us to her house for water and we took some time to chat with her. It is a pretty great program that they are running and we were happy to be a part of it.

Limulunga

February 6

Hello world!

Today is a lovely day in Mongu. It rained buckets yesterday evening and you could still feel the cool air when we opened the door this morning. As the day progressed, the sun conquered all (it always does) and now it is hot with barely a cloud in the sky.

Rather than boarding the bus to Lewanika, Esther and I stayed back and enjoyed a later start to the day. We walked down to the road and within ten seconds we had flagged down a minibus heading toward Limulunga. A dozen kilometers later, we hopped out and walked toward the clinic.

The clinic is located behind a primary and secondary school. It's a very pretty area that is well looked after. The clinic itself is in a pretty magical looking place. Between all the buildings are ancient trees with roots lending themselves as steps. If you look to the horizon, you can see a clear view of the flood plains. Although they are not as flooded as they should be (they look like regular plains at the moment), they are nothing short of beautiful.

Upon arriving, we took a brief tour of the premises: male, female, and child wards (about four beds each, two useable each - the ones that have mattresses), OPD (out patient department, like emergency), maternity (one bed for delivery, four post-natal), a modest laboratory, pharmacy, ART (antiretroviral treatment for HIV), and probably a few more that I am missing, all spread out into about five or six buildings. No washrooms though (TIA, hahaha)

Esther and I were scheduled to work in the OPD today. I have to say, this is what I have been looking forward to most. It is the most like emergency except, here, nurses have a rather broad scope. Out of chance, Esther worked with the nurse attending to 'Under-Fives' and administered many vaccines.

I was very fortunate to work with a nurse that you would never guess was a new grad with just months of experience. In a small room, we sat at a table and received patients one by one (or more if the whole family was sick!). They would enter, sit on a chair, and would hand over a children's notebook. These notebooks act as a permanent record for each patient. Inside, we would write the date, chief complaint, symptoms, impression/diagnosis, and prescription (Yes! I was helping to diagnose and prescribe!).

This is exactly what I was talking about when I said that nurses here in Limulunga have broader scopes. Although they are Registered Nurses (three years of school and a diploma here), they are given massive responsibility. And just because the location is rural doesn't mean that they don't see variation. We saw everything from old-age aches and pain to toothaches to epilepsy to gastroenteritis. And for each of this ailments, we had to be able to identify them and select an appropriate medication to treat it. Rhinitis needs prometazine, a lung infection needs erythromycin, a 'threatening abortion' (due to possible placenta previa) needs salbutamol, and so on. It was fascinating! I can't remember a day in practice in Canada during which I had to use critical thinking quite this much!

That said, I was surprised to see that every visit ends with a prescription. I've been to the doctor back home with more symptoms than some of the patients today and have been sent home for bedrest. Here, there are prescriptions for runny noses, for coughs, and for aches from a day of too much work. Everybody receives a pill for their complaints. I can't help but wonder what this leads to. At home, a cold or the flu leads to staying home and perhaps eating soup. Here, it is paracetamol and prometazine and we'll see you tomorrow if you aren't better yet.

Also, there are quite a few antibiotics given out. In Canada, our nurse practitioners and doctors are learning to be more cautious with antibiotic use because of the increase of resistant organisms. I am not certain that caution is being taken yet here.

On another note, an interesting thing happened today with regard to relational practice. A young individual entered with a slip that indicating that they had just been tested positive for HIV. Before we had even had a chance to greet this person, a family burst in, struggling to carry a severely emaciating person. This person fell to the floor and the nurse and I helped to lift them onto the examination bed. Off the cuff, I would say that this new person was likely Stage III HIV and was reacting poorly to the ARV. We assessed the person, initiated an IV, and transfered them by hand to another ward. When we finally came back, the first individual was still sitting there waiting to be given instructions with regard to their new HIV status. I understand that nobody can be shielded from what HIV looks like here (it's seriously everywhere) but I couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking. "Is this going to be me in a few years? Will I not respond to therapy?" I wish that they hadn't seen everything that happened.

Before we knew it, it was already time to leave. We boarded a bus in town - these ones don't leave until they are about to burst with passengers - and headed back home. This ride felt like the real African deal. A woman boarded with what looked like three dead chickens and roosters. My stomach turned and I felt sick about the dead animals so close to me. Until they started squawking and nipping at the woman next to me. She shrieked, I laughed, she laughed, I got elbowed by her for laughing at her, and Esther clung to the bar on the side of the bus. Rinse and repeat for the long ride home.

Good times in Africa! Tomorrow, we are going to the feeding clinic (no idea what is in store!) and then we are joining Amanda at a school to talk about our experience in nursing and how it has changed our lives. I'm excited!

Cabs and minibuses

February 3

I'm not sure how much I've told you about transportation so I'll just share everything I've learned.

For us students, there are really only two modes of transportation: cab and minibus. When we first got here, a few of us tried taking the minbus. They are definitely an... interesting way to travel.

Minibuses are akin to pale blue and white minivans. They congregate in what could loosely be called a haphazard terminal in town. When you walk by these buses, the driver or copilot will usually shout their destination for you. (Shop Rite! Shop Rite! Limilunga!) If you're planning on going to Limilunga, which passes through Malingwa, where we live, then you might be in for a wait. This bus only leaves once it is full. And not full like, we are out of seatbelts (there aren't any) but full like, there is literally no more room on the seats or floor and, shouldn't you buy me dinner before we get this close? kind of full.

The buses going to Shop Rite, however, leave at any given time because they are sure to pick up more passengers on the way. Once you pay your fare (rarely more than K3000 or 0.60USD), the minibus, with biblical quotes splashed across the windows, is off! (Usually the quotes on the bus will indicate your fate upon boarding - "Go to Jesus!" "Have fate!") Staffed with a driver in the front and a copilot squashed next to the sliding door on the left (door functionality may vary), the buses zip down the road. As you pass by pedestrians - and there are a lot of pedestrians - the driver will tap on the horn for each one. Either the pedestrians will keep on walking or they will flag the bus down. The door swings open (or falls off), the person embarks, and you're off yet again. Even though I have taken several of these minibuses, I never quite shake the feeling that I'm on a roller coaster with no safety harness.

Our other option for transportation is the mostly trusted taxi. I say 'mostly trusted' because we've only been driven to a poorly lit abandoned warehouse once. All the other times we have managed to find our destination. Unlike in Canada, being a taxi driver isn't just a job - it's a way of life. The only requirement for being a taxi driver here is to have a four-door sedan (again, functionality may vary). They don't seem to work for a central dispatch or anything of the sort. Instead, their business is based on their personality and trustworthiness.

Like the bus 'terminal', there are many places through town where taxis congregate. Drivers will yell at you, honk at you, and even run over, take your hand, and walk with you.

Here's the protocol: Walk to a flock of taxis, ignore the competitive shouting, call out where you're going, ask how much it will cost, decline the grossly inflated makuwa-price, and secure the local price. You see, the cars aren't outfitted with those red counters that indicate how much money your fare is. Instead, you agree on a fare beforehand. One person may pay K50,000 where another might just pay K15,000. Don't get too ripped off! But also, don't sweat the small things. A difference of K5,000 is really just a dollar.

Our favourite cab driver (we have his mobile number, of course) is Calvin. Calvin is this incredibly reliable driver that comes to pick us up from anywhere. When he takes us to Shop Rite - "Calvin! It closes in thirty minutes, will we have time?" "Yes, I know a shortcut" - he will actually wait outside to take us home. He loves asking us questions about Canada and was shocked to learn that, despite our differing heritages, that we were all Canadian. He is saving up to purchase a new car and we're hoping that our regular business helps him along his way.

Boat cruise

February 5

Hi all!

First off, I am feeling loads better. I finished my course of Cipro, rehydrated with my newly rediscovered Gastrolyte, and have attributed my mystery cough to aggrevated asthma. I feel like a person again!

Now for the real story. Yesterday was our boat cruise. Ronny (among our favourite nurses here) had been bouncing around Lewanika General Hospital for the past few days selling tickets to the ZUNO (Zambian Union of Nurses Association) - Canadian Nurses Fundraiser (with free braii!).

|Time: 10.00hrs - til late
|Venue: Boat at the harbour on the -
|Date: Saturday 4th February 2012
|Charges: ZMK 50,000.00
|N.B: Funds (emergency trays) to be donated to Lewanika General Hospital

When Saturday finally rolled in, we all got snazzed up and took minibuses down to the harbour. Like most things, the harbour wasn't quite what I had expected. It was an oblong mouth of water that looked like a small pond (wherever the river went, it was obscured by wild grasses) and was dotted with boats from another era. They were rusted, antique-looking, and several of them had sunk perilously deep into the water.

We stood around awkwardly, dressed in the best that we had brought, among locals who were curious about our presence. Soon, Jess and Jessica arrived and led us toward our boat. Again, not quite what I was expecting! It was a rectangular covered barge with a long line of benches on either side and a large red container in the middle that we presumed was full of drinks.

I took count as we sat down and found that there were 24 of us on board. That meant that there was still room for 26 more! Though we were punctual, we found ourselves waiting. Ten minutes, half an hour, an hour, two hours. Finally, everyone was on board and we were off.

The boat lazily bobbed away from the shore and slowly navigated us upshore. It didn't take long for all of us to start mingling. There were a few doctors and their wives, a number of nurses, and the harbour master aboard. Soon, the big red cooler was open, drinks were being served (just K5000!), and everyone was having a good time. Everyone took a stab at the elaborate sound system but a faulty connector prevented us from playing anything.

A few hours breezed by and we docked (read: crashed) into the river bank. We were encouraged to carefully disembark and take a walk. I was told that this area was a desert; beneath all of the wild grasses was arid sand. Stepping into the sunshine was like opening the oven to check your McCain's pizza, peering in a little too far, and falling inside. It was hot.

We walked in a long line down the sand bar toward a town and the Lozi King's Winter Palace. Eventually we arrived but found that we wouldn't be allowed to enter without more notice. In spite of our unexpected drop-in, several dignitaries set up a meeting with the doctors and they had a lengthy meeting. After some time, we (as a group) were invited over to the meeting and the representative from the King explained that, because of protocol, we would not be able to visit the palace at this time.

With the sun falling closer to the horizon, we walked back to the boat and embarked yet again. Somehow, a new sound setup had arrived and, before we knew it, we were listening (and soon dancing) to a great mix of local and English music. Our friends were eager to teach us how to dance (properly!)

Step 1: With legs close together, bend at the knees
Step 2: With arms bent, move them back and forth
Step 3: ?
Step 4: ?

Actually, our dance lessons (both of them!) were interupted at this point but we must have caught on because nobody pointed and laughed!

Although I danced a bit without encouragement, when I sat down, I was pulled back up a few times. I quickly had to learn this thigh-destroying dance move that suddenly became all the rage among the men. Two guys would closely meet around the center and would squat lower and lower to the floor together. Then, at the very bottom, they would raise back up. I only observed this once before I was dragged in. I must have done okay because I'm pretty sure I heard cheering over the blood rushing to my face, haha!

And then, before we knew it, we were back on dock, crashing into the bank. I disembarked, headed to Oasis for a bite, and came back for some great games of crib with Susie and Rachel. It was a great night!

Back from the dead

February 3

Hello world!

I'm back.

On Thursday (January 27), I started getting these lung pains every time I took a breath. I'm not sure if it's some sort of asthma resurgance but it's been really bothering me. Starting Wednesday (February 1), though, I started feeling really sick.

I began to feel very hot and had these intense abdominal pains. My mind felt strange and I had a piercing headache in the back of my head. In spite of starting Cipro, I felt like I was dying! My instructors made me take today off.

Fortunately, my housemates forced me onto a rehydration regime yesterday and I am feeling much better today. I think that I was probably dehydrated (though I think I caught some sort of stomach bug as well). Time to start drinking a proper amount of water!

TIA

TIA.

All nurses know what this acronym means. Transient Ischemic Attack. It's that time Grandpa Joe started having trouble forming words and suddenly couldn't see out of his right eye. Off he went to the hospital but, before you knew it, his symptoms subsided and he was as good as new. A TIA is a narrowing or blockage of a blood vessel in the brain that comes to pass without causing sustained damage.

On this side of the world, however, TIA means something entirely different.

TIA. This is Africa.

Before we had even left Canada, we were already hearing the phrase "TIA". When a prof couldn't satisfyingly answer a question about Zambia, the answer would often be "TIA". When we wondered why TD debit cards wouldn't work in Zambia, we would hear "TIA".

But when I actually arrived in Africa, I stopped hearing the phrase. Zambia was this wonderful, new, exciting, green, humid, sunny wonderland and the differences exhilarated me. I wondered, why do people get so caught up with TIA? Things are just funny and quirky here!

Fast forward a few weeks. Things are less funny and quirky. "I need to charge my camera but the power is out!"... TIA. "Since when is mayo a pizza sauce?"... TIA. "Why are we so caught up in protocols when we need to act fast in the hospital?"... TIA. "How can a clinic that serves over 15,000 people only have three RNs on staff?"...TIA.

TIA was seeming less like a catchy phrase and more like a catch-all excuse. I became upset. Instead of those silly letters, I wanted answers. Seriously now, why does the hospital run this way? Why are there so few staff? Why is nobody responding to the emergencies? Why isn't this more like home?

And that's when it hit me. This isn't home. It's not Canada, it's not British Columbia, and it's not Kelowna. This is Africa. And to imply that it is not as good as home is to be about as ethnocentric as a tourist can be.

Zambia is not Canada and the problems that arise cannot be addressed from an international standpoint. In the hospital, for example, there are some donated pieces of cutting-edge technology that are gathering dust. Why? Because there isn't the staffing required to take advantage of it. And the staff that are there do not necessarily have the training needed. The issues that have surfaced cannot be solved with quick and dirty fixes. Everything here is multifaceted. A fancy infant warmer is a fabulous donation but if the staff aren't trained in its use then it will fall by the wayside.

As I have gained more insight into this country and, more specifically, this hospital, I have gotten a better idea of what TIA actually means. It isn't a catch-all excuse. It's a change of perception. Drop your preconceptions and look around you. This isn't Canada. This is Africa.

Transient Ischemic Attack. This is Africa. They aren't terribly dissimilar, in fact. A temporary blockage in the brain that affects how you act and how you perceive. In time, it passes and you regain your function. My actions and perceptions have been clouded with how things are done in Canada but, for now, this blockage is coming to pass. Afterall, TIA.