Bear With Me

I'm asking for your forgiveness and understanding in advance: this is about to be the cheesiest blog post ever, but I have to write it anyway. After a week in the office busying myself with different projects and continuing to get used to how things work around here, we were let off a little bit early on Friday. I decided to go for a quick jog around our neighborhood and ran down the long road that stretches from our house to what is literally the bush - not a single house, dirt roads stemming from the central concrete road, and I wouldn't be surprised if I saw some sort of animal there. The pervasive red Lusakan dust was kicked up with every step I took, and Shakira's "This Time for Africa" came on my iPod. My shadow was 35-feet tall with the blazing orange sun spreading across the horizon and setting behind me, Zambians coming home from work, from school, from somewhere else, walking next to me, and it finally hit me. I'm in Africa. I was taken back to when I returned my little Civic right before I left and the same song came on the radio - a world away right now, but connecting between the two locations anyways. It was my "Aha!" moment, my "holy shit I'm in Africa" moment, my "I know this is disgustingly cheesy but it's too special to ignore" moment.

Oh, Bureaucracy!

I got my first few real tastes of Zambian bureaucracy and organization this past week, and although I was amply forewarned, it's still always surprising (and not to mention frustrating) when you expect one thing and the true outcome is quite another. Just one big thing to get used to. On Friday, Alice and I brought our forms, pictures and applications to immigration to drop off for processing in order to get work permits. "Immigration" usually draws up images ofdelineated rows, organization and strict methodical processing. Not so much over here in Zam. There were no lines only clumping, no clear signs of where to go, the instructions we received were, "Navigate the immigration office until you find the appropriate person to talk to," and once there it's always a little disheartening to see your meticulously-prepared package loosely tossed under a pile of tens of others. Apparently they don't call you when it's ready either. Rather, you have to check in a massive notebook every two or three weeks where they may (or may not) remember to write your name indicating that your permit is ready and waiting. Alice's application form was in a different font than the original, and despite the fact that it had all the same information, they were thisclose to making her go home and change it. After 45 minutes of waiting, navigating, negotiating and paying, we finally dropped it off and for now all I have to do is keep my fingers crossed.

It's funny, because although I had heard about the bureaucracy and the need to be flexible beforehand, it's really only when I'm in a situation that calls for it that I see how I react. At times I can definitely be patient, at others though, my Western need-for-speed and what I deem "efficiency" takes over and I let my frustrations overcome my patience. It's all a learning experience and I consistently remind myself that things are done differently over here; it's in no way my place to impose any methods, I'm here as a support system and it's most important that GRS in particular, is primarily based on the actions, thoughts, needs and desires of Zambians. I also know that this entire transition/adjustment period is something that almost all interns at GRS and even international workers here experience. Ultimately what I'm saying here is generic and over-commented-on, but it's notable and something different nonetheless.

Saturday the other girl interns/fellows and I went to see an outdoor concert of Zambian/South African artists headlined by a female Jamaican duo called Brick & Lace. Apart from the fact that the concert started like 4 hours late and because it went later into the night than expected so I was underdressed and FREEZING, it was really fun. I haven't encountered an ounce of hostility in the two weeks that I've been here, but Saturday night a really drunk 40-ish year old man came up to me and started chatting (he was a close talker with beer breath, I'll let your imagination do the rest). He asked if we could be friends and so I jokingly said, "Sure, of course we can be friends."

"Here, take my number," he insisted.

In retrospect, I should have just taken it and then deleted it, but I didn't even want to lead him on or play games so I just said, "I don't even know you! We just met, I don't take people's numbers who I just met."

"It's because I'm black isn't it??" he responded, accusingly.

I was startled and taken aback. "It has nothing to do with your skin color. I don't know you," I replied.

"Are you a racist?" he continued to prod.

"If I were racist I wouldn't be in Zambia for a year," I said back. He again asked if I was a racist and at that point I thought to myself, "This drunk dude is not worth my time, he's a lost cause," so I just walked away to the other end of where the group of our friends was standing. I know that he was just trying to get a rise out of me, poking at catchphrases and key words that would upset and annoy me, but I guess it worked (although maybe not in the way he had hoped for - I never DID give him my number...)

A little more info on an intern's life here

Helloooooo!

Up until now I feel like I've been writing snippets and tidbits, giving you guys my initial impressions and chopped stories but not fully explaining what things are actually like here in Lusaka. Selfish on my part, I know, but between slow internet, exploring the city, work, and hanging out with the other interns and fellows there hasn't been much free time to sit down and write a big long blogpost. So here I go:

One of the first things I noticed when I got here was all of the dust. Jamie (my friend from Bowdoin who just so happens to be here for the year as a Princeton in Africa Fellow) had forewarned me that it was a dusty city, but I imagined Asian-city dust: steamy hot fumes and moto-bike exhaust hanging low in the air. Lusaka's dust is different. The main roads are paved, but directly off of them are neighbourhoods and areas with dry, red, unpaved roads, dappled with craters and sprinkled with rocks (just to make the drive that much more exciting, right?). It hasn't rained here in weeks, I can only imagine how much worse the roads are during the rainy season. Needless to say, cars certainly get a beating out here, and if you have a sore neck I would suggest staying home and not driving ANYWHERE.

The GRS house is situated on the same plot of land as the office - the doors are about 20 feet apart - which makes it easy to roll out of bed, grab breakfast and saunter over. I can also see how it might start to get slightly insular or claustrophobic, so I've been making an effort to get out in the evenings (everyone pretty much does too), exploring the surrounding areas and keeping my eyes peeled and my ears open for cool things to do. Monday night the other female interns/fellow and I went to Zumba (so much fun and only $3! The instructor was 45 minutes late because she was in a minor car accident, though. I'm quickly learning the extensive time delay is typical and something I better get used to) and last night we went to an outdoor yoga class held at the French school (L'Alliance Francaise).

Driving here is another adventure altogether. Drivers aren't particularly aggressive or out of control (I AM a Montreal driver, after all), but there's the challenge of driving on the left side of the road, paired wider vehicles than I'm used to, breaks that may or may not work (I'm exaggerating...kind of), twisting, curvy roads that are only sometimes labeled, and a country that loves roundabouts. It's definitely interesting. I'm starting to get the hang of it though, and it's strangely liberating to drive in another country. It makes me feel like less of a tourist and more of someone who actually lives here, which I guess makes sense since that's what I'm doing for the year.

I'll keep on giving you guys info on the city and what I'm up to here and around, but no one like super-long blogposts (I know that I always pretend to have read them and never actually do) so I'm going to cut myself off here and hopefully write again soon.

Much love xox,

Max

Circle Dances and Settlements

In the middle of the circle, voices cheering, singing, all-emcompassing protective support just by the mere presence of others. Whether the beat is generated by clapping hands or a pumping sound system, it's overwhelming nonetheless. Syncopations throw my body for a loop forcing me to change my standard dance moves, desperately searching for some movement, some method, some motion to relay this overwhelming urge to flow and sway. In the middle of the brightly lit day surrounded by the giggles of children, or late into the night so that the darkness of the nightclub envelopes us, people I've never met before welcome me all the same. Both circumstances produce a sense of camaraderie; we're all in it together. As a muzungu (white person) with bright red hair there's no doubt that I stand out like a sore thumb, and although there are inevitably a few giggles and hollers of "muzungu," they are quickly tempered by the movements, by the sounds, by the beats. And while the divisions between the world I've called home for 22 years and Lusaka aren't completely erased and will never be, the lines a blurred a little if only just for several minutes.

***

On another note, I've been given my intern position: I'll be a programming intern working on the UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) project, so part of the time I'll be organizing the stuff for the urban refugees and the rest of the time I'll be organizing stuff for the refugee settlements we work in outside of Lusaka. About once a month I'll actually get to go to one of the settlements about 8 hours west of Lusaka to help with the training of the GRS coaches, VCT (Voluntary HIV Counselling and Testing) events, monitoring and evaluation, and all the other fun business-y type things that interns do.

A few first pics

Did I mention that our house is an animal farm? We have a puppy Rottweiler-Black Lab mix and a little kitten (called Ginger for now). She's adorable. Until she peed on Marissa's sleeping bag.

The view of George compound from the backseat of our car (driven on the left side of the road, no less!)

Little kids breaking it down in the urban refugee settlement (George compound).

Clap it out

Kids in George compound signing the GRS Skillz contract.

Moves and Grooves

Five year old kids can get down, booty pop, do MJ-esque moves and pop-and-lock with no music and beats generated by 35 peoples' clapping hands way better than I can. Enough said.

Welcome to Lusaka

So we got to Lusaka two nights ago - the air was cool but smoky-sweet, like corn roasting or garbage burning (take your pick I guess). Just based on initial impressions it seems totally different from Asia in that things are really spread out and we're not in the center of the city, but there are little neighbourhoods and we've already seen a number of compounds (a mix between communities and shanty-towns) which are made up of webs unpaved red dusty roads that emerge from the edge of smoothly paved roads. It sometimes amazes me how they appear seemingly out of nowhere. As for the weather (everyone has asked me so I feel like I should mention it), it's not hot yet at all! I'm wearing jeans and long sleeved sweatshirts during the day, but apparently come October i'll be shvitzing all over the place. The digs here are pretty cool. Right now it's 7 of us to a 4 bedroom house (3 are moving out at the end of the month) but it's fun, kind of like the real world without the drama, and we're literally on the same plot of land as the office so we can roll out of bed and to work.

Just a quick story that would only happen in a place far away from North America: the first full day we were here, the former intern who's now a fellow took us around to grab lunch/see the nearby area/pick up a new kitten (so now we have a puppy AND a kitten - I'm in heaven and it's like Animal Planet watching them interact) and on the way he was like, "Do you mind if we swing by a nearby clinic? Two of the coaches just got circumcised." Now let me tell you, coaches are usually between like 17 and 23 years old. They are picked because they are role models in their communities and trained to deliver the GRS curriculum in (usually) a 10-week program. These two guys decided to get circumcised because it significantly reduces your chances of acquiring HIV (the porous cells are forced to become impermeable (or more so, at least) to the virus. They walked into the car slightly wincing in pain but didn't seem embarrassed at the least which, although it seems like a tiny thing to notice, I found it really inspiring and dedicated that these young men would chose to go through (what I imagine to be) a painful process to reduce the chances of acquiring HIV.

I'm sure I'll have many more stories but that's just a little sampler for now.

Lusaka Sunrise

In the middle of a pretty intense orientation in New Hampshire, but I wanted to share this link that we were shown today. It's a short video put together about Grassroot Soccer in Lusaka, Zambia (where I'll be in 3 short days!) and I think it's a good introduction to GRS and Zam in particular: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyplef2Hi6Y

On another note, orientation has totally quelled my anxieties about heading out to Zambia: the other interns are enthusiastic, funny, intelligent, fun and above all, passionate. It's nice to have this time - as hectic as any orientation always is - to get to know people who are placed in other areas. It'll make for awesome weekend trips to check out the other placement sites!