The problem: The last few weeks have been hectic. Between our busyschool schedule, packed afternoons of activities and cultural outings,I’ve been unable to keep up with my posts. The solution: a brief,rough, summarized breakdown of the HIZ program’s comings and goings
for the past several weeks.First up, the Wind Festival. When you think of a festival, withperceptions tuned to the key word “Africa,” stereotypes are aninevitable part of the imagination process. The Wind Festival met andeven exceeded almost all of them in a good way. The festival, whichfrom here on out will be considered synononymous to party, was held atthe local chief’s palace. And palace it was, with the grounds occupiedby a large canopy tent, which was, in turn, occupied by luxuriouscouches and the lounging figures of relaxed but powerfulmen – including the chief himself. Also on the grounds was the key toany good party: hundreds and hundreds of people.
Upon our arrival, we got the friendly greetings typical to Zambia, with white smiles and dimples wrinkled from use – stereotype number one. Having made our way to the chief and paid our respects as a group, we took a seat around what we would soon discover was a makeshift dance floor.
Enter stereotype number two. Men wielding drums, followed by eccentric women dancing to the arrythmic but relatable beat made their way to thecenter of the space. The women pranced in circles around the men, andsoon enough we were all roped into their escapades. After 10 minutesor so, the troupe made a dramatic exit, dancing and drumming all theway in, for lack of a better word, an Congo line.
Then, for reasons I have yet been able to explain, we were all lectured about the evils of animal cruelty for 20 minutes. In its nature itwas true, but relevant? Not really. That was all quickly swept awaywhen the dancers re-entered and, as we were told later, sang a folksong chronicling the woes of AIDS.
There was more dancing, and we were all struck by the Zambians’ innate ability to shake parts of their body that never before seemed possible – stereotype number three. I would gladly testify to the potential truthfulness of my newfound belief in the origins of twerking: from out of the bush and undergrowth of the remote villages surrounding Namwianga did America’s favorite parlor trick creep and spread – though now only existing in Western culture in its less sophisticated forms. But now I’m rambling. We attempted a quiet departure, and made our way back to Namwianga fully satisfied with our cultural encounter.
Next up, we drove several hours to Macha. There we spent the daytouring one of the more spectacular scientific achievements in Zambia,if not Africa. As a direct result of the efforts of a local hospitaland research lab, malaria has been all but eliminated in the town ofMacha. In fact, according to our gracious host and tour guide Dr.Thuma, the disease generally only enters the area through outsidesources. In cooperation with the Zambian government and outsidesources like John Hopkins Hospital, Macha has a full-blown malariaresearch lab, general hospital and clinic, and even a nursing school.The malaria research lab was a bit over my head, as well as inhabitedby less-than-extroverted lab technicians. But regardless, we learned alittle bit more about the extent of their accomplishment and witnessedtheir freezers, mosquito samples, DNA extractors – the whole nineyards.As a result of their research, not only have new theories andsolutions to malaria been developed, but the crew at Macha has turnedits empirical gaze towards another gigantic medical nemesis: HIV and AIDS. The job is never-ending, and the tireless workers are up to the task.
Born from a Christian community and Christian ideal, the hospital andresearch labs at Macha are truly inspiring in every context; theirachievements outdo those of all cultures and are made even moreimpressive by their origins in a tiny Zambian town.Last but certainly not least, we all spent half a day at a localfamily’s tobacco farm. We took a short tour of their farm, rangingfrom their vast fields to their massive curing workspace. But the mainevent, the one we were really looking forward to, came shortly after.Zambians are quite athletic, and sports are a huge part of theirculture and upbringing. Volleyball is one of those sports, andwe brought our A-game to the makeshift court against our internationalopponents. After a few hours of cutthroat competition, the Zambiansremained the undisputed champs despite our collective best efforts.Following the rousing but exhausting bout of clumsy digs and haphazardvolleys came a delicious steak provided by our hosts. Overall, the day provided an easy-going outlet after several weeks packed with bustling activity in the classroom and around Namwianga.
As I type, we’re all lounging in an airport in Lusaka, waiting forthe arrival of our late night flight to Tanzania. For the next twoweeks, we’ll be taking a hiatus from the (relative) norm of Namwianga, and will spend our time in a new country with its new culture. For now we wait, and I hope to continue the updates throughout our short trip.
Zuba ilapia,
Zach
