Star Struck

As we sat waiting for him to arrive, the excitement in the room was palpable. Well at least the excitement in my immediate vicinity… Okay, it was just me. I was like a teenager at a concert waiting for a musical heartthrob to appear, expect with less sweat, fewer hormones and far more men in suits and ties. Finally, he emerged. The man that had made my palms sweat with anticipation – a man shorter than me, some 40 years my senior, badly in need of a haircut, and wearing glasses that definitely snuck their way into this millennium without checking in with the fashion police. This man was Stephen Lewis, and while he’s not exactly a pop star, he’s the HIV/AIDS equivalent: the UN Secretary General’s Special Envoy on AIDS in Africa.

Admittedly, I wasn’t quite as excited as a teenager at a rock concert waiting to hear him speak, but I was definitely excited. I read Lewis’ book, Race Against Time, just recently and was very taken with his straightforward, direct way of discussing the daunting issues facing Africa today. And to hear him speak about it, and specifically to speak about Zambia, my home for the last 9 months, was an event of rock concert status as far as my life here is concerned!

Unlike those live concerts that just don’t sound quite as good as the CD, I was not disappointed with Lewis Unplugged. His address was clear, captivating, emotional and spattered with one of the most amazing vocabularies I have ever come across. I can’t say I agree with everything he said (or didn’t say) but I was impressed and pleased with his direct manner of tackling what he sees as the important issues. The man doesn’t waffle: he ‘slandered the World Bank at will’, radiated with praise for rural women running a fish farm whose profits sustain over 100 orphans, relentlessly reiterated the need for the government to tackle the crippling human resource crisis, openly attacked those who expressed narrow concerns that ‘drove him to distraction’, and made a heartfelt plea for a ‘Herculean’ intervention to address the vulnerability of women. He is a diplomat that cares deeply about his work and isn’t afraid to speak his mind, which he attributes to the fact that he is near the end of his tenure and no longer afraid of losing his job!

Despite the long list of concerns, Lewis was positive about his visit to Zambia. A colleague and activist whom I greatly admire voiced some concern with this apparent ‘milk and honey’ view of Zambia’s fight against the pandemic, but Lewis was quick to reassure him that he has never has and never will have a ‘milk and honey’ view of the fight against AIDS in Africa; there is still a long way and a lot of work to go, but he refused to be so foolhardy as to deny the progress that Zambia has made in recent years. I have to say, some days I wonder whether what I am doing here makes even the slightest difference to this world, but to hear one of the world’s foremost voices HIV say that Zambia is definitely getting somewhere definitely put a bounce in my step out of bed this morning.

Let her eat cake!

In fact, let her eat 4 cakes!

This birthday past, my 26th, was definitely the cakiest of them all. I had my first cake on Saturday afternoon – a coconut sponge, which I baked with the nieces and nephews who devoured it in about 3 seconds flat! Apparently cake is a welcome respite from nshima... Later that night I went to another volunteer’s place for dinner, after which the lights went out and while I puzzled over the impromptu power-outage, she waltzed in with a candle-clad brownie-cake, singing Happy Birthday! Cake No. 3 came later that evening, when I went out for drinks with a couple of friends at Rhapsody’s, one of Lusaka’s more posh restaurant-bars (located in a strip mall, but that’s the definition of posh here). As we sat sipping a very expensive beer, Happy Birthday started to play and the waiter came out of the kitchen with a huge cake covered in sparklers! I held my breath as he walked right up to our table, and... continued walking right by to deliver the cake to a gentleman on the far side of the restaurant! But the let-down inspired my drinking companions who made sure that the next time Happy Birthday played and a cake was brought out it didn’t get further than our table: my cherry cheesecake arrived right at midnight – a perfectly sweet way to begin my decline into Latetwentiesville.

The next day I had friends over for dinner and deliberately bought only ice cream for dessert. But the Cake Gods were determined to have their way with me, and it wasn’t long before Sam and his little brothers showed up at the door singing Happy Birthday and clutching a heart-shaped cake from their family with ‘Happy Birthday Ashley’ written in pink icing on the top! So I finished off my cake-filled birthday happily dusting the crumbs of my 4th birthday cake off my lap. I think it’s safe to say Marie Antoinette would have approved.

I didn’t receive quite as many presents as I did cakes, but I was given a lovely chipyanga (broom) in honour of the Nyanja name given to me by the nieces and nephews: Auntie Chipyanga. Apparently is has something to do with my hair... Go figure.

Thanks to all those of you who sent me fond wishes for my birthday, and to those of you who are patiently waiting for me to crank something out about my recent travels. I'll get there one day, I think...

Oh, and for those of you who are still curious, I did go back to the real estate agency, and they did waste 3 more of my apparently waste-worthy hours traipsing me around town, but I did not ever get to see an apartment. I did, however, get my money back (eventually) and then I did decide never to step foot in the place again!

Every day is a rollercoaster

Some start of well. Others start off terribly. But no matter how a day in Zambia starts, you had better not forget to buckle up your emotional seatbelt, because you can be sure the status of each day will change multiple times throughout its 24 hours.

Take today, for example. Today started off brilliantly – I actually managed to sleep until my alarm woke me up, instead of being woken by the roosters a good hour earlier, like I am most days. I read my book (Poisonwood Bible) and sipped coffee until it was time to leave for work, and wasn’t even overly hassled on my way into town.

Then, the rollercoaster rolled over its first peak and started plummeting downwards at a stomach-turning pace. At 9:00 I went to a Real Estate agency in town so that they could take me to see a flat. I had been to the agency twice already the day before with no success, so I was already a bit cranky when I arrived. However, after only 30 minutes of waiting an agent named Mr Banda escorted me to said flat. When we arrived, however, the owner was not there waiting with the keys, as promised. He had been ‘picked’ by his sister and was on the other side of town.
“Come back at 12 hours," Mr Banda says. "He will be there. No problem.”

So I left, grumbling profanities under my breath, and returned 2 hours later having calmed down somewhat. By 12:45, however, when no one had showed up or bothered to call me, I had reached the bottom of my rollercoaster day’s first big dip. When I finally caved and called Mr Banda he informed me that the viewing time had been changed to 17 hours. I’m sure he knows I’m not telepathic, but I do wonder how he thought I would figure that out on my own…

All this wouldn’t have been so bad if this particular agency hadn’t insisted on charging a 50,000 kwacha ($15) viewing fee. But since they had, I took the liberty to complain about the terrible service they had so liberally charged me for. Normally, I’m not one to complain here. Zambia sort of sucks the complaint right out of you because a) if you were taken to complaining you wouldn’t find time to sleep, and b) it doesn’t get you anywhere. But today, I complained. I marched into the office (once I had walked myself back into town) and gave them a piece of my unsatisfied mind. Most of all, I made sure Mr Banda understood that he had better be ready at 16:45 to take me back to see the flat. They offered some lame apologies, made a lot of excuses and agreed Mr Banda would be ready at 16:45. Of course, at 16:45 I arrived at the office to have Mr Banda inform me that he couldn’t leave until he 'knocked-off' at 17:30. Funny, he didn’t mention that earlier... I refused to sit around and wait, so after much arguing I said I would meet him at the flat. I asked him to specify EXACTLY what time he would be there, and made it very clear that if he did not show up there would be, well, hell to pay!

He didn’t show up. Nor did he call. And I’m still trying to figure out just how I might create some hell to pay. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll have much success and I’ll probably just end up wasting another 4 hours of my life tomorrow playing the same game.

Fortunately, in the hours that I actually found for work today my rollercoaster day did a few loops that reminded me how inconsequential my trials and tribulations with Mr Banda were. Today was the monthly meeting for TALC, where about a hundred HIV positive people from support groups and organizations around the country come together to share information on what is going on in the organization. It’s the one day each month that really reminds me why I am here: the room is always full of wonderful people who are passionate about their fight against the pandemic, and they never cease to inspire me. Today was the first time I had seen a lot of people since I left to go home, so practically the whole room jumped up to greet me with enormous smiles and hugs when I came in – it was quite overwhelming and nearly brought tears to my eyes.

I ended up sitting next to a man who, although I recognized him, I couldn’t remember where from. Eventually he reminded me: “I am Ackim, a friend of Peter’s.” “Of course!” I replied. “You are also in the Teacher’s Ring of Hope. So how is Peter?” “Oh, Ashley, Peter has passed away.” Well that certainly brought the elusive tears to my eyes. They just began to fall, instantly, before I even realized what was happening. Peter was the very first HIV positive person I worked with when I came to Zambia. He came to the NZP+ office on my first day looking for help with a proposal for his teacher’s support group, and that was very first task I took on. Since then I had seen him often and always enjoyed chatting with him and admiring his charming smile and sparkling eyes. I can still see his face now. It shocked me that Peter had died. It shouldn’t have, because Peter, and everyone else in the meeting, battle death every day and every day some of them lose. But although many people have passed away since I began my work here, I haven’t known any of them as well as I knew Peter.

I had to leave the meeting early in order to make my 16:45 appointment to once again not get to see a flat I had paid to view. I tried to slip out quietly, but a few people managed to follow me outside to ask me for help with this or that, or find out how my trip was. Then Judith, a lovely woman I know quite well, came up to me and although I pleaded with her that I needed to go she insisted on speaking to me. She had a big grin on her face as she shared the news that a project I had helped write a proposal for had been funded! Her women’s support group had received money to start a small business tie-dyeing fabric, and things were underway and going well. Having dedicated much of my first 7 months here to building the capacity of support groups of PLHA to plan projects and write proposals, her news was my first real tangible evidence of success. I've definitely had my share of successes in life, but I was particularly pleased with this one, and Judith's exuberant high-five was the perfect reward.

I had better get some sleep. Tomorrow's rollercoaster is sure to be a wild one...

Coming soon...

Hi everyone! Greetings from Zambia! Yes, I'm back in the heart of darkness, but unfortunately you'll have to wait a little longer to hear more about it. Although I have a thousand tales to tell of my trip home and my adventures in Zambia and Namibia since I returned, I also have piles of work awaiting me, a dream apartment to find, and a thousand people to catch up with. And finding the right words to describe all the things that have happened since I last blogged will undoubtedly be a time consuming process, so bear with me!

To all of you who I managed to catch up with over the last 2 months, it was great to see you and I look forward to our next visit.

Research to plan... must go!