This week, I have a series of posts recalling my time volunteering with the Presentation Sisters in Kalomo, Zambia. It was amazing. This is why.

PART ONE

So, you know when you’re watchin telly and those Concern ads come on with the sad songs and teeny kids in raggy clothes with big smiles. Well, I’ve always had this somewhat romantic notion of going to Africa on a ‘save the world’ kick. I didn’t, of course, save the world, but I did go to Africa and it was amazing.

People seem to have a much shorter attention/interest span when it comes to my stories of Africa though. Apparently, hearing my stories doesn’t quite equate to living the experience. So, that leaves me with a lot of talking to do but not many listeners, hence my recent writing splurge.

THE PREPARATIONS:

Originally, the plan was that I would go to Zimbabwe as part of a group and teach in a secondary school. (I’d done some substitute teaching here in Ireland.) But we didn’t think that my interest in journalism would bode very well with Mugabe’s hatred of the free press. I was disappointed of course, but was offered a place in Zambia instead. It meant that I’d be volunteering alone, away from the companionship of a group, but I just wanted to go, so I jumped at the chance. As it turns out, it was a blessing in disguise. I was staying in the same place that pupils from my former secondary school had stayed two years previously. I was meeting the same people they had and boy, did they make an impression. It’s like having distant cousins in Africa now, and as soon as they know your face, they welcome you like beloved old friends. Plus, I did several months of excellent preparation with the Presentations and a through debrief on my return.

THE TRAVELLING:

Flying Long Haul was an experience in itself. I just sat in one spot for nine hours and forty-five minutes flying over seas and desserts and got off on another continent, in another hemisphere. Now, that is weird. My flight attendant was so unhumanly happy, like a giggly overgrown toddler being tickled under his freshly pressed shirt. He gave me pretzels and I got really excited.

I flew Dublin to Frankfurt to JoeBurg SA to Lusaka, capital of Zambia. Planes all worked like clockwork, except the one out of Dublin. Typical.

I was staying in Kalomo, in the Southern Province, which meant a day’s bus ride down from Lusaka. Aboard the comfy bus with a driver who (thankfully) kept to the speed limits, I watched Casino Royale. A James Bond which was surprisingly good, although the scenes of a shoot up in the Congo didn’t do much to reduce my nervousness. Still, it was a reminder of just how small this world of ours is and just how strongly the West dictates its role. Even in the depths of Africa, you’re never far from the grasp of Hollywood.

THE PLACE:

I stayed with the (wonderful!) Presentation Sisters in Kalomo, Southern Province Zambia. (I (somewhat naively) tried to put in a little Google Mappy thing there, but sure they haven’t quite made it to Sub Saharan Africa yet. Their Loss ) That meant me, Sr Theresa (who’s originally from Galway) and Zambian Srs Numba and Mbolulwa. We had the Fathers next door for company and chat, (Very Fr. Ted). Bosco helping in the garden and with the animals and Kestine around the house.

The scenery was stunning and can be seen, along with many other ‘snaps’ here. http://www.flickr.com/photos/clareherbert/ . Kids and adults loved ‘taking snaps’ and shamelessly lit up so see themselves on camera.

FOOD:

The food was delish. We had a lot of fish: bones, scales, eyes, head and all, which were yummy. Mealie Meal (which is a lot nicer than it sounds) is the stable food. It’s a white paste, derived from maize with no real taste. We’d veg too, especially Rape (a strong cabbage) and more traditional native veg which had very odd (and so easily forgotten) names. I tired African Chewing Gum (called Mayna, I think) which was kinda liquorice-y flavoured with a real weird texture, like eating hay. We’d lamb with pineapple one night, which was luxurious. I made brown bread too, with defrosted flour and smelly milk in a plastic bag. There were times when I felt like I’d gone back in time a century or two, like when we were pasteurizing the milk or hand washing clothes and trying to bake a cake without any electricity! We drank a lot of tea too, more tea than students if such a thing is possible.

THE WORK:

I worked with Sr Theresa in a Home Based Care program, which meant travelling around to different compounds every morning and holding clinics there. Compounds are huge stretches of dusty, dry ground with houses (like crannogs, made of mud and thatched roofs) tightly squeezed in. There are usually hungry looking chickens pecking around, and sometimes a few goats. They’re like mini villages in some ways too, with well built, expensive looking Taverns (i.e. bars!) and shack-like market stalls about the place. There are acres of kids running everywhere, who leaped up and down with glee when they saw us arrive. Patients would come, mostly women with their children, and we’d treat them for mild ailments, refer them on for more serious complaints and give them medicines in tiny plastic bags. We gave a lot of multivitamins, panadol, iron etc aiming to improve their quality of life despite the poverty they’re living in.

HIV/AIDS:

Obviously, AIDS was huge. We encouraged those who didn’t know their status to go for VCT (Voluntary Counselling and Testing). The Zambian Government offer ARVs (Anti-Retrovirals) for free. Anti-Retrovirals delay the progression of the infection and can improve life expectancy by up to ten years. However, there are problems in getting accessing the right treatment at the right time. Plus, they need to be taken very precisely to be effective and they’re hardly gonna be much good if you’re starving and have no clean water.

Statistically, Zambia is supposedly better off than many other African countries when it comes to the spread of HIV/AIDS. On the ground though, I doubt I met five patients who were negative. That means that the vast majority of people I met will be dead within a decade, while I can plan my retirement with some sort of confidence that I’ll be here to enjoy it.

More tomorrow.