A is for... Asia?

In my typically late fashion I am writing to share what is fast becoming old news: true to my where's-waldo nature, I am once again on the move. That’s right, I know you all thought I might actually stay put somewhere for more than 365 days but, alas, it seems that is an impossibility.

So where am I off to now, you ask? Well, I’ll give you a hint – it’s a small, densely populated, flood-prone country close to India that starts with a B. Don’t worry, I’ll wait while you go check the atlas.

(This is me waiting….)

Have you found it yet? Yes, that’s right - I’m moving to Bangladesh! I’m sure this comes as a surprise to many of you, but don’t worry, it was a bit of a surprise for me too! It seemed that one day I was briefly glancing through a job posting sent to me by a friend, and the next day I was trying to decipher a contract for what I like to think of as my very first ‘real’ job.

I have been hired as a Field Program Officer for a project with the Aga Khan Foundation of Canada. The project is a ‘learning project’ for a larger, poverty-reduction program being carried out by BRAC, a local Bangladeshi NGO (also the largest indigenous NGO in the world). I could take up more space to bore with the details of exactly what I will be doing but a) I’m not exactly sure yet, and b) even if I was sure, I have no doubt my job description would not even begin to describe the realities of what my job will become once I am on the ground. So I will save those exciting details for a later blog.

It was a difficult decision to leave Zambia after such an incredible year there. This exciting opportunity came at a time when I was just getting used to the quirks of my life in Zambia. Quirks like...

Minibus drivers boasting how drunk they are...
Being the only woman using my arms to carry things...
The two-sidedness of the world: 'this side' and 'that side'...
Meeting twelve year old children whose mothers are my age...
Driving on the left hand side of the road...
The endless uses of the phrase 'what what'...
The single state of being: ‘just okay’…
Diplomatically answering the question ‘where do you play?’ (Zambian for ‘what church do you go to?’)…
The smoke of endless fires burning to get rid of garbage, hunt mice, chase away snakes, or clear fields for new crops…
Realizing that, statistically speaking, one out of every five people I pass everyday is HIV positive…
Watching the seasons change – just recently I greeted the vibrant purple blossoms of the jacarandas who dressed both their elegant branches and the ground below in carpets of incredible colour…
Having nieces and nephews…
Cockroaches…
Mel’s insane cat, Shadow…
Sympathising with people who have come down with 'maralia'...
Nshima…
The previously undecipherable English of Sebastian, one of our guards…
Shaking hands with people for minutes on end…
Praying before and after every meeting…
Things taking a loooooong time (for example, you might go to the insurance company to insure your camera and it might take so long that the person waiting for you has time to read the paper, have a cat nap, go for a walk and watch half a World Cup football game)…
Space being used to its fullest – whether it’s minibuses overflowing with sweaty passengers, bicycles sagging under the weight of 6 enormous bags of charcoal, closet-sized rooms sleeping whole families, or wheelbarrows of produce ready to topple over, space is never wasted…
'Ju-ju' (witchcraft) coming up in everyday conversation…
Not having a television…
Wanting to laugh, cry and scream all in the span of an hour…
Expecting the unexpected…
Nothing happening when it is supposed (or, often, even happening at all)…
The whitest, brightest smiles in the world…
Calling 1pm '13 hours' (and other quirks of the 24 hour clock in Zambia)…
Greeting taxi drivers with ‘How is it, boss?’…
Sebastian and Christopher (our guards) asking me to lend them money, make them tea, and generally entertain them with my mzunguness…
Mosi, the ‘Truly Zambian’ beer (undeniably so, seeing as one of its main ingredients is maize)…
Having almost everyone I know dedicate part of their day to praying for me…
Being welcomed, by everyone, everywhere I go…
Having mangos grow on a tree about 12 metres from my window…
The astonished looks I get when I tell people I don't have children, and I'm not married!! (heaven forbid)...
The fact that there is a 'season' for petrol shortages…
Being approached to buy fruit, newspapers, baseball hats, board games and rabbits – all at the same intersection!...
Going to buy sweet potatoes (or any other earthly good), of which there were so many the previous day you could hardly avoid tripping over them, only to find that they are 'kulibe (finished) madame'...
Calling 'muli bwanji!' to children passing by...
Having discussions about the merits of polygamy...
Meeting people named Perpetual, Jelly and Abstract...
Etc... (Yes, I could go on forever)

Needless to say, I will miss Zambia. A lot. There are things I won’t miss, however. Just before I left, a funeral took place at one of the neighbour’s flats downstairs. Funerals here are an ordeal: for 2 full days the whole family (and I don’t mean just Mom, Dad and the kids) eats, sleeps and mourns together. And mourning is not a quiet, individual act. It is a loud, communal act. I can’t even begin to describe what it feels like to hear people wailing en masse, but I can say it is a sound that sends chills down my spine just thinking about it.

Funerals take place all the time in Zambia. Hearing a colleague say ‘I have to go to a funeral’ is like hearing them say ‘I have to go to the bank’ – nonchalant, normal, everyday. I won’t miss that at all. But I will miss most of the rest of it. Even the annoying bits.

I am asked often what I will miss most about Zambia, and I have come to the conclusion that what I will miss most is laughing. I laughed every single day I was in Zambia. Despite the immense adversity they face, Zambians are incredibly joyous and would never miss out on an occasion to share a good hearty laugh with a stranger. They have a great sense of humour that is not hard to bring out, if you know how. Fortunately, I learned how. And it made every one of my days bright to know that before I climbed into bed I was going to share a good laugh with someone. That is what I will miss most.

I will also miss the incredible goodwill of Zambians. Even when someone was trying to get something out of me – and really, why shouldn’t they try? – if they didn’t get what they wanted they never got upset or took it personally. I remember on my most recent roadtrip being asked (seemingly aggressively) for money by the children who helped us push our car – unfortunately, we weren’t even sure we had enough cash to get us home, so we decided we couldn’t spare anything for our heroes. But, after a brief flash of disappointment, the grins returned to their faces and they waved us on our way wishing us a safe journey. That just doesn’t happen everywhere. There is a special kind of…innocence that I both admire and appreciate in the people of Zambia.

And of course there are countless other things, people, places and quirks that I will miss, but for the benefit of my loyal readers I will refrain from listing them all.

So, Zambia is behind me now, but another incredible adventure awaits the White Girl (soon to be) in Asia! And, rest assured, you'll hear ALL about it (I've already received a number of harsh threats relating to the possible disappearance of my blog, so in the interest of my well-being I have decided to continue blogging...)

Until then, goodnight.