Volunteers Unite!

So I am now an official Peace Corps Volunteer as of Friday afternoon.  Gina and I are officially united and ready to help our village become healthier and economically more stable.  Swear-in day started off with a typical Zambian breakfast in the hotel Peace Corps has been setting us up in every time we go to Lusaka:  pink mystery meat, boiled egg, white bread, and beans.  I'd had my fill of this, so Gina and I augmented it with a little bit of Zambian granola- yum!  Then 35 Peace Corps trainees and 3 Peace Corps volunteers (wives of the 3 married couples in my program) loaded up into vehicles in their best clothes they brought to Zambia.  I opted for a little Zambian flair, so in addition to my black patent leathers and dress pants, I had a shirt made with a Zambian flag chitenge.  The ceremony started at the Peace Corps headquarters in Lusaka where we gave speeches (in Lunda!) and had the ubiquitous "this is a big day in your lives" speech from the American ambassador to Lusaka.  We had a little fun with a song written by one of the Zambian trainers and performed by the volunteers.  Then we went to the Zambian state house.  This is the equivalent of the White House.  Security was surprisingly lacking once we were inside, and while I expected a whirlwind tour of the place, things were pretty relaxed, including monkeys climbing up the trees and peacocks screeching in the distance of the house grounds.  We went into the equivalent of the Oval Room where we waited with some Peace Corps officials, ambassadors, Zambian chiefs, heads of aid organizations, and 34 young (and one middle-aged), excited Peace Corps volunteers.  This was the first major event for the Zambian president of 28 days, Michael Chilufa Sata, and the first time any Zambian president attended (much less hosted) a Peace Corps volunteer swear-in ceremony.  Peace Corps officials tried, successfully I think, to impress upon us the honor that we had that day.  So much so that we were a little surprised at how relaxed the atmosphere was at the state house.  Key to creating this atmosphere was Sata himself.  I wasn't quite sure if his relaxed, matter-of-fact attitude was a testament to being top gun in Zambian politics or his personality.  After the new volunteers took a couple of poorly choreographed pictures with him and some other big-wigs, he commented that it was time to go eat.  We appreciated his directness.  He invited the volunteers to be the first in line to the buffet of buffets, complete with Zambian bush meat, fresh vegetables that were not cooked to death, 12 other pans of good food with Zambian flair, and 5 different desserts, including flan and an awesome bread pudding.  After eating, Sata didn't talk much, choosing instead to pick on the ambassadors from various countries.  He referred to the chinese ambassador as "Mao Tse-tung".  The french ambassador was "the frenchman", and the russian ambassador was "russki".  We didn't know if he forgot their real names or if he had such a personal relationship with them that these names were acceptable.  I'm guessing with just 28 days in office it was the former.  The finale was when Sata instructed the 20-piece band to play the American national anthem, but they didn't know it.  Sata apologized to the crowd and said something to the effect that a minister of defense (leader of the band among other things, I suppose) who doesn't know the American national anthem is of of little use to him.  Later that evening Gina and I, along with the other married couples and a very hungry single volunteer went out for Thai-food, which was a big splurge on our stipend (about 10 dollars a plate--very close to a day's Peace Corps stipend).  Too bad we are not making American salaries anymore!

The following day we started the journey to get permanently placed in our little village, which includes a 4 day layover in Solwezi to relax, process paperwork, and purchase things for our hut.  One afternoon we stopped for lunch at one of those places where we had to place our order in one line and pay in another.  I went to pay for my lunch and waited behind one person paying for his lunch.  As I leaned over to get a good look at a tray of cookies that I wanted to buy, another Zambian approached and moved into the space between me and the paying customer.  Since I was leaning to a side as if I wasn't committed to being in line, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and humbly got back in line, or what I thought was the line.  A few moments later a second person cut in front of me with not so much as a glance to see how I might react.  I realized then I was either getting royally taken advantage of as someone who didn't know the language or I was getting a lesson in person space in Zambia.  After getting snubbed twice of my place in line I made sure I didn't lose it again by getting uncomfortably close to the person who was in front of me.  So close that when he was finished paying I had to move over to make way for him.  But, I didn't lose my place in line again.  Hopefully I will be able to find a happy medium between what is considered American personal space in lines and what seemed like a stalking encounter to me.

I learned another lesson in Zambian etiquette at a lodge where several of us new volunteers went to relax and keep cool one afternoon.  We had a swimming pool with cascading waterfall and poolside bar nearly to ourselves for several hours.  One volunteer was laying by the pool with her drink standing beside her.  There was a little bit of remodeling going on off to the side of the pool and one of the workers chose to roll his wheelbarrow load passed her, breaking her glass as he passed.  He didn't even say sorry, which is pretty odd for Zambians, who have a habit of saying "Sorry, sorry, sorry" after any little grievance, whether they were involved or not.  A little while later a waitress came by and cleaned up the glass.  The volunteer pointed to the glass and asked for another.  A while later the waitress returned and set down, in the same spot as the previous, a wonderfully cold but EMPTY glass.  We all had a belly laugh immediately at this comical misunderstanding.  We have found that Zambian waiters and waitresses often ask for precise instructions.  For example, if I order a dinner item from the menu, I always get asked "How many" afterwards, as if my skinny stature was their cue to suggest that I might have more than one.  So after the broken glass situation, it was clear that the waitress brought back exactly what the volunteer asked for.

After spending a day buying goods and supplies around Solwezi, it is becoming clear that service is a far cry from what you would expect in America.  Our model "the customer is always right" is nearly completely flipped on its head in Zambia.  When we Americans find ourselves in these awkward situations in Zambia there is a saying:  "Zambia wins again", or "ZWA" for short.  This is our reminder to ourselves that we are living in a different culture and we are at the mercy of it, and the sooner we get used to it the better off we'll be.  It may sound a little pessimistic, but I am closer now to the "getting used to it" side of that pendulum so it is usually a source of comedy when I hear "ZWA" lately.  We have heard that there is some mail in Mwinilunga, the nearest town to our village, so we are looking forward to getting that news from the States, probably on Thursday.

But first we have to purchase a few more things on our long list of hut necessities and wants, and then another 4 to 5 hours of driving to get to our new home for the next two years.