"Villages were burned so the people could not return."

`

"...the world that is satisfying to us is the same world that is utterly devastating to them"

I've just returned from a relaxing evening in Siavonga. Dr. Tim invited me to go along with two other volunteers and two kids from the program. It was my first real excursion outside of Lusaka, the first time I saw the adobe and grass huts of rural Zambia. It was a cool 24-hour trip.

We spent a very relaxing evening watching the sunset, having a couple of drinks, debating which cluster of stars was the southern cross. After a couple hours at the resort I learned that Lake Kariba is actually a man-made lake, the largest in the world at the time of its creation in 1950s.

Please read the first paragraph of each of these links:
http://www.eaglesrestresort.com/
http://www.internationalrivers.org/en/africa/kariba-dam-zambia-zimbabwe
http://www.panos.org.uk/?lid=13656

The quote in the title is from the international rivers site. The devastating quote is from Pathologies of Power- Farmer quoting Robert McAfee Brown paraphrasing the Uruguayan Jesuit Juan Luis Segundo. Farmer has a lot to say about dams as part of development projects.

My luxurious life in Lusaka

Hi all,

A big part of the reason I came here was to try to better understand global inequality, poverty, and the diseases that stem from them. I wanted to look suffering in the face. While I every day I see people who endure extreme hardship, I haven't made too much progress in this regard. Perhaps, the walls between us can be accounted for by the lifestyle to which I am accustomed and which I have adopted here.

I have nothing but gratitude for the generous people that have welcomed me into their homes. However, I need to emphasize that theirs are not representative of most Zambian homes. The most ostentatious example is the huge flat screen in the Kusensela house. It and the pile of speakers below it dominate the common room. MTV Africa is frequently selected from the hundreds of channels available. I've never been an MTV-watcher. The hypersexuality and materialism spilling from the TV is one of two incongruous foreign worlds that I experience from my perspective on the couch. There is nowhere to hide from the TV in this house.

The TV isn't the only mark of privilege in the house. It is a very comfortable place. Indoor bathroom, plumbing and electricity and an oven in the kitchen, Chileshe's spiderman-themed bedroom, etc.

The significance of these luxuries was clearest to me when I visited a friend's house and prepared dinner on his hotplate without the benefit of running water. Note that this friend is a clinical officer (essentially a doctor) in the clinic where I volunteer. Spending a cold night on the floor and going outside to use the squatpot the next morning was instructive. Mostly it showed me how much I enjoy and depend on luxury. I knew I failed to appreciate it, now I realize that appreciating it means coming out and saying that I don't want to give it up. I am extremely lucky to have been born on top of the global wealth pyramid, my opportunities and luxuries made possible by international economic systems in which the deprivation of the global poor is intricate.

I have to figure out what I want. I didn't do anything to deserve what I've been given in life. This is a fact. My relative (and absolute) privilege was ensured before I was born. Yet, despite knowing that the machine which produces my wealth is the same machine that impoverishes the people I claim to help, I don't want to give it up. I really like hot showers. I don't want to think about what I'd be willing to do to keep them (even the "hot" showers I enjoyed living in Riverside Plaza).

Am I willing to consent to the exploitative neoliberal political-economic system that drives global inequality?

For me this system means hot showers and coffee shops and medical school. For the kids in John Lang compound of Lusaka it means no healthcare, inadequate food, 10% HIV prevalence among kids, trash and broken glass under bare feet. I cannot endorse this system for a shower.

Week 1

Muli bwanji!

Today marks the end of my first week in Zambia. Meeting Mumba, Martha, Chileshe, Sala, Tojo, and the rest of the family was such a relief and a pleasure. I've never known such friendly and gracious people. I am very fortunate to be invited into their home for my time here.

The girls prepare delicious food every night. It took about two bites to get used to nshima (known as ugali on cedar ave in minneapolis) every night. It's accompanied by mphwa (little eggplant), kapenta, beef, chicken, the unfortunately named rape, fish, peanut-based dishes, and other relishes. I'll be fat by the time I get home.

There was a holiday and long weekend after I arrived so the TTAF clinic was closed both monday and tuesday. I spent Sunday and Monday on Dr. Tim's farm meeting a lot of the TTAF boys and getting adjusted to the new time zone. There are a lot of great kids here at the farm, the clinic, and the various schools and orphanages I've visited. Chileshe, the seven-year-old with whom I share a room (he gets the top bunk), always wants to play. We spend at least an hour together each day mostly practicing reading in the dinosaur book I brought him. He calls me uncle. It's a good feeling.

There's another good kid I've gotten to know who I'll call Adam. Adam is ten years old and HIV+. He lives with his uncle at the school his uncle runs. Prior to starting treatment he was seriously ill with several opportunistic infections, including generalized flat warts and TB. I met him while I was getting oriented in the clinic on Tuesday, one of two patients who showed up even though it was a holiday. He was out of ARVS, a particularly serious situation since he has already failed on first-line HIV treatment and is now taking the drugs reserved for patients who become resistant to the first set. Missing doses quickly leads to resistance and when he develops resistance to these drugs there's nothing left to fall back on.

I went to the transit home where Adam lives to start doing a "needs assessment" of the place and rode the bus with him and another "uncle" of his to his appointment at the clinic. I bought him some biscuits and he sat on my lap in the crowded bus. He never let go of my hand. I may have squeezed his hand a little too hard a few times. I've blinked back a lot of tears on this trip.

This morning another volunteer and I shadowed Dr. Betty at Jon Hospice. The adult patients at Jon Hospice are mostly bedridden and fighting TB. Many do not know their HIV status, the rest are positive. I did rounds with Dr. Betty and got to apply some things from school, espically physical exam skills. I've got a feeling I'll have a positive Mantoux when I get back.

Towards noon we were looking over chest x-rays in her office when a nurse came in to say that one of the female patients had died. I hadn't met this patient and went with Betty to certify the death. A relative was sobbing by the side of the bed but Betty, being the excellent teacher she is, launched right into an explanation of the procedures necessary to certify a death. The culture surrounding death is different in a country with a life expectancy of 35 than it is in the US. The body was still warm when I checked the pulse.

There's a lot more I'll share with you guys but that's enough for one email. I got to prick kids' fingers at an outreach and dispense ARVs in the TTAF clinic. I've met all kinds of people and am learning a lot every day. The time is flying by and I'll be home soon. I miss you all!