Chapter 8

Mwalibiya buti,

I hope everyone is doing well. Here in Monze, the rains are falling almost every day and the vegetation is lush and green. The maize (corn) is taller than me, the sweet potatoes are sprouting leaves, and my feet are continuously covered in mud. I don’t mind though. It’s a small price to pay for many people having enough food to eat this year.

I have just recently moved into a new house with a 25 year old teacher named Barbara, from Lusaka. She’s Zambian, and has a husband and 2 little boys.  She teaches metal working and technical drawing and was transferred to Monze a few weeks ago. She literally showed up on my doorstep one Sunday afternoon looking for a place to stay.  We immediately connected and decided then to become roommates.  Her husband and eldest son are still living in Lusaka, while the youngest boy, Andrew, has moved in with us.  It’s a full house, since her sister-in-law has also moved in to care for the baby. That brings our household total up to 5, if you count the dog, Mwayi. 

I have some sad news.  In my last posting, I mentioned working in the fields with a girl named Olivia and her daughter Precious.  Two weeks ago, one of Olivia’s relatives saw me in town and told me that Precious had unexpectedly passed away.  The last time I had seen the little 1 year old, she was fat and healthy looking. My heart ached. How could this have happened? In Zambia, I have come to realize that death is treated somewhat differently than it is at home.  It seems as though someone I know is always on their way to attending a funeral.  Here, Death isn’t treated as an unimaginable occurrence, rather as a reality of living. This isn’t to say that it’s not as painful, as life altering, as it would be for people at home. It’s only that many here are faced with it on a more frequent basis.

After talking with Olivia, it turns out that the baby had been given ‘traditional medicine’ and became sick afterward. Here in Zambia, there are two types of health systems – modern and traditional medicine.  The traditional remedies are most often administered by a witch doctor.  This person is unregulated and has no official accreditation.  They use local plants, herbs, and roots to make their medicines and are usually visited once modern medicine has failed the ill.  Many Zambians I’ve talked with will only reluctantly admit they’ve tried traditional methods for treating their ailments, although it’s very common. As with Precious, sometimes these medicines cause adverse reactions and result in the person becoming sicker than they were.  She was then taken to a clinic near the village where they gave her anti-malarial drugs. This is often the first treatment prescribed to patients, even without conducting a malaria test. Since the clinic was overcrowded (as they often are) and she needed to be monitored overnight, she was transferred to another hospital.  They also gave her anti-malarial medication, and eventually her little body just wasn’t able to cope with all the drugs in her system.  Olivia was so angered by this obvious case of malpractice, but yet, she probably won’t be able to receive any form of retribution for her daughter’s death because she just doesn’t have the money or resources to fight for it. At the moment, all she wants to do is go back to school and graduate. Again, because she doesn’t have anyone to support her financially, this may not happen.

A thought pops into my head. Why don’t I offer to help her go back to school? I could afford to pay for her school fees. It would only cost about $100 per term, plus a bit extra for uniforms. She only has to finish grade 12 and I could receive monthly progress reports to ensure that she’s making the most of her time there.  I’m sure that every volunteer has met someone with a lot of potential, little money, and has had this exact same thought.  So why don’t I?

Reasons such as having to consider the type of message I’m sending to others here, the sustainability of such an action, and the impact on Olivia if I make this promise and am unable to keep it. But even so, wanting to help people is a natural human reaction. There is no easy answer when deciding whether or not to help someone obtain an education.

Please send any thoughts on these topics. I’d love to hear what you think.

Lv,

Jenn