This project was born because of soccer and thus deserves some recognition. After a year of living in Sub-Saharan Africa fighting HIV and AIDS, I came back to the states with a greater appreciation of the game. I understood more deeply the soccer 'way of life' and truly believe in its power to heal through hope, mobilization and dedication. I documented my travels through stories and photos, and to honor those experiences, I've left most of them on this website. Though that chapter has since closed, I've been inspired to continue documenting my 'story' back home in San Francisco through descriptive pieces of personal inspiration that I hope will revive a life of adventure, from the inside out. Please follow my blog and share.
If suddenly curiosity strikes, wander, get lost and discover. When you feel a surge of energy, excite it. Don’t think. Don’t question. Just do. Act. Be. It’s new. It’s bold. Perhaps a bit terrifying. Some might say crazy. You wonder, how? and why? Can I? Should I? Is it even possible? Let me tell you, it is. Everything is possible. Embracing those moments that make you most vulnerable and feel most uncertain end up becoming the moments that steady you. The challenge brings strength, the uncertainty brings clarity, and the vulnerability brings confidence.
I didn’t know how I could make my journey to Zambia possible. It was time. It was money. It was a new place. A new lifestyle. Where would I fit in? Could I make a difference? Was it mine to even make? Those questions and that fear though, didn’t stop me from saying YES. My experiences in Africa compare to nothing else. I went seeking an adventure and a challenge. I wanted to live a life in service to others and to live simply. My journey was all of that and much more. My life became a cultural exchange and I learned of experiences and traditions that shocked me, that terrified me, and that saddened me but I learned of ones that also made me smile and laugh and were humbling. I have stories of failure, success, sickness, of doubt, denial, acceptance, resilience, pride, and hope and many of them not mine. All of these stories and experiences I hold deep in my heart. They have become a part of me. Africa has become a part of me because I said yes.
So I say to you, lead the life you’re given. Challenge the one you’re not. Do the bold. Be daring. Don’t settle until it feels right. When you say yes, a world of opportunity opens up and you just might start to see things through an entirely new and beautiful light.
This is a thank you to all of you who believed in me, who supported me, who gave me words of encouragement. There is a healthier and happier future for so many youthful lives in Africa. I am better. The world is better. Thank you.
And remember... EMBRACE THE UNUSUAL, THE FEARED, THE SOUGHT AFTER, THE DREAM. jmb
A brief reflection into the past 10 months:
Sometimes this life is hard. A lifestyle I’m not used to suddenly became my norm and I had to find comfort and happiness within it. At first, it broke me. It tore me down until I felt stripped of everything that once made me happy, that identified me. Not only did I see darkness, I felt it. But greatness can be found within any struggle and the only way to truly understand the high, is to experience the extreme low. The struggle forces the escape. The escape opens up the opportunity to engage, to wonder, to seek, to truly see and not only experience, but live. Eventually, I found that escape. With open eyes and an open heart, I could embrace. I began to love the things that identified my every day; the sounds of the pied crows in the early morning hours, the walk to the tuck shop where I bought my eggs and coke, and the fruit stands that lined the side of the road and the bananas I’d buy from them for nearly nothing. I embraced my love for a game, a game that undoubtedly shaped me into the woman I am today, with those who see it as a way of life. I could eventually accept the slow pace of African life and could accept the fact that yes, more times than not, this pace would drive me absolutely mad.
An excerpt from my journal on one particularly slow day….. “So much time. Endless amounts of time. Time to think. My mind seems to pull in every direction with thoughts that I can’t seem to make clear. One thought turns into ten and I seem to lose where one thought began and where the other ends. Sometimes too much time isn’t a good thing, though people like to tell me it is. They say it’s hard to come by. I don’t like free time. I like freedom. But free time doesn’t feel like freedom. Not here. It feels like prison. Where does excitement meet free time? It doesn’t and it never will. Free time is boring and it haunts. At least, that’s how I feel right now.”
I loved the sun when it was shining, perhaps not the heat that came along with it, and the long thunders that accompanied the rains during the rainy season. I began to love everything that set Zambia apart from the rest of the world; the brightly colored and lively patterned chitenges that seemed to identify the woman, the kindness of a stranger, the smokey and dusty air, the chaotic markets, the terrible directions, the simple sayings, the love for braais, the integration of everyone in a place no matter their level on the socioeconomic scale, and sometimes I even loved being called a mzungu. I grew to love the fact that I could feel so out of place yet in place at the same time. I appreciate a simple life and have discovered how unnecessary some necessities truly are. I think there is a love for this culture somewhere inside of me, though it may be difficult to unveil at first. Perhaps that love is rooted in the fact that this culture is just as beautiful and fruitful to those who live it as my culture is to me.
There are days when I still retreat to that all too familiar dark and dreary place. Where the strangeness of my here and now makes me long for the comfort and familiarity of my home, my family and my friends. This darkness though has given me the opportunity to rise up, the courage to face the challenge, to learn from it and to grow stronger. That, I am truly thankful for.
{{ Nothing but darkness. Looking up, all I see is the flicker of distant stars. Squinting through the lids of my eyes, I try to focus on the road ahead of me. My hands are gripped tight around the steering wheel, not quite tight enough though to white my knuckles. I notice a fire burning on the west side of the road. Ominous and threatening. Shadows start dancing in the foreground. In quick flashes, I begin to make out the rows and rows of empty wooden stalls that seem to travel for miles into the distance. During the day, the street markets are flooded with people and food. The chaos of smells and noises are dizzying. Tonight, they are empty. This calmness, though, has me wishing I were spinning. The eeriness I sense shoots a wave of tingle up my arm.
Just a few more meters, the darkness is illuminated by a flood of light that gleams a hazy yellow through the smoke. Music gambols gleefully off the cement walls and sends melodic waves that echo off the car’s frame. People are scattered in large numbers. Peering out windows, dancing and jamming in rhythmic steps, playing pool on the porches of bars that seem to line the entirety of the road. People are stammering through the streets, in a drunken daze. These people won’t sleep and will continue their drink well into the morning. Women sit huddled around candlelight in groups that seem to pattern the darkness in an uneasy mystical ambiance. Faces turn towards the car, staring in angered confusion—A car? Here? It’s a good thing this rocky road has me progressing slowly. Just before I make a left hand turn, a man gets thrown from a crowd and catapults in the direction of the car. He trips over his own feet, stumbling as if he’s lost complete control of his own body and just as he steadies himself, he grabs hold of the hood of the car. His gaze jumps up slowly. His face is aglow from the headlight. Just enough light to see the shock and horror. His face bloodied, swollen. It’s time to leave.}}
Sometimes I forget what the real Lusaka is like. Most of my time is spent traversing the main roads, avoiding the dirt roads that lead to what many would call danger. It’s rare that I travel through a compound, unless I’m administering a survey, checking out an intervention, or attending a GRS graduation event. These glimpses into the real Lusaka though provide me with perspective. I remember why I am here. It’s good to have those reminders. Zambia is poor. Though it’s a peaceful nation, you should never underestimate the instability that accompanies the impoverished. I play soccer for the Mzungu Allstars, an eclectic team of misfit expats that plays bi-weekly against local Zambian teams. We have a group of enthusiastic Zambians that join us for the games. We provide them with transport and in return, they give us able bodies on the field. The scene described above was that of the home of Abel, our local goalkeeper. Abel can’t walk home at night. Even he, a young, strong Zambian man is vulnerable in such a setting. A blow to the face is a common form of attack, for just the shoes off your feet. Though providing transport for our local players adds a good extra 1.5 hours of travel, I don’t mind doing it because I know what the consequences can be if I don’t. Playing with our team is a commitment. Having committed Zambians means something. It’s soccer. It’s healthy. It’s universal. After all, I’m here because of this sport. Mobilizing communities through soccer, to make healthy behavioral changes. To create an AIDS free generation. Keep playing the game. Keeping educating.
OH WHAT A CHANGE WE CAN MAKE!
I used to think of Africa as simply that, Africa. One large continent. Its country lines blurred together to form one super land mass. There was no real distinction from east to west, other than the changing landscapes and the migrating masses of wildebeest and zebra. That's why I used to dream of traveling there. It seemed obscure, open, endless. The sun, low on the horizon, could illuminate a path that'd twist and turn and lead to a place anew. And with the horizon always in view, you'd never find yourself adrift. Geologically old. Biologically diverse. The origins of human life. Africa was a place of discovery and sure enough, I was to discover it.
My arrival in Zambia provided me with my first glimpse into African life. The land was flat. The trees and shrubs looked aged, brown and yellow in color, having gone months without rain. The air was dusty and smelled of smoke, exhaust and gasoline. Things seemed to be in disarray. Every building barricaded by cement walls and iron gates and trash floated effortlessly in the breeze. I landed myself in an urban metropolis, a capital city, but there were no high rises, no flashing lights, just advertisements painted on those barricaded walls. Driving through the city streets some short time after I stepped foot on that African soil, I realized I wasn't discovering just Africa. I was discovering a different life, a people, a microcosm whose lines weren't just a blur on a map, but a representation of a unique world.
The more time I spend in Lusaka, the better I understand life. Most city dwellers came from outside the city, or they are part of a generation having been born in Lusaka. Families left their villages and the farms they grew up on for the promise of a brighter life in the country's capital, many trying to support those family members that still survive off their land in the rural communities. The villages are so far removed from any type of civilization. They are primal in nature. Homes made from muds and grasses. Water comes from a stream that is maybe 15 kilometers away. If lucky, a borehole was dug that taps into a water source just outside the village, making water much more accessible. Village life is simple, but it is hard. My house mom grew up in a village a good half days travel from Lusaka. When I look at her hands, I feel like I'm reading the story of her life. They look strong, swollen at the knuckles. They are weathered. Years and years of hard work. Her work began back in the village, at just five years of age. She cooked meals for her family, did the laundry, neither being an easy task without the conveniences of modern technology. Without access to medical care, doctor's visits were rare. Life expectancy, extremely low. The simplicity of a hard life in the village has shaped Sharon into a woman of integrity. She is a lovely lady and each day, we share new stories about our childhood, our families, the places we grew up, the food we eat, the things we love to do. The cultures we come from are so vastly different. It is hard for me to even imagine living the life that she has. Being here, I get to play a part in that life - though in a small way, to me, a very significant way. That part extends beyond my relationship with Sharon. I share music with Gift. Talk to Felix about running, yoga, our physical aspirations. I learn what it's like to be a female Zambian from Hildah and talk to Mukuka about marital traditions, gender norms, our swimming capabilities and our favorite movies.
I initially pictured my discovery of Africa being that of its wild 'things'. The trees, the rocks, the animals. I wanted to discover Africa as I had always imagined discovering it. Though I have been lucky to discover those things; I've marveled at the wondrous Victoria Falls and swam along its edges. I've rafted class Vs through the basaltic canyon of the lower Zambezi. I've hiked through South Africa and wandered around the Cape of Good Hope. I've camped in Botswana, floated down the Chobe River in a canoe, swam with the hippos, stood face to face with wild elephants, giraffes, and lions, and I've stood beneath the shadows of the beautiful and majestic Baobob trees. I've only nearly scratched the surface of discovery and exploration here. What I wasn't expecting though, was to discover the beauty of a people, in this place.
It was Sunday. Arthur (my friend, fellow roommate and colleague) and I were preparing to depart on a journey to Johannesburg, South Africa via a long 30 hour bus ride that would have us crossing first the border into Zimbabwe, then the border into South Africa. 30 hours seems like quite the trek, though I couldn't help but feel excitement for it. Traveling via ground offers a perspective that air travel does not. And there is no better way to learn a land than to travel through it. We fueled up on food and coffee in the morning, knowing that perhaps that would be the last full meal we would have for the next day, though I was certain there would be ample opportunity to find food along the various legs of our journey. In my daypack was a small assortment of items including granola, raisins, and a single banana to nibble on just in case.
The journey began at the intercity bus terminal in Lusaka, Zambia. Intercity Lusaka can often times be a dangerous place, especially as a white mzungu. Pulling up to the station, we were immediately hassled for money and bombarded by people with questions and answers to questions we didn't even have. The bus station is quite chaotic. Food stalls line the interior of the complex. Loud chatter and the beeping of car and bus horns echo off the cement walls. To me, it seems near impossible that we will ever find our bus terminal. There is no directory. There are no signs. Just bus, after bus, after bus. It is nice being a foreigner in such circumstances though, because everyone seems to want to help- though their real reason for offering assistance i'm sure is driven by the hope that some form of monetary benefit will be provided. Just a few short minutes of aimless wandering and a young man approached. He asked us where we were headed to then offered us tickets. When we informed him that we had already purchased our tickets through Intercape, he kindly led us through the crowd and down and around the far corner of the terminal to the Intercape's check-in station. Ah, time to settle in.
The bus left promptly at mid-day and despite the heat outside, it was nice and cool inside. Our journey began with a blessing and bible readings. After an hour or so of prayer, the officiant ended his sermon and finally settled into his spot in the front of the bus. This was expected, as the words "Note: Christian material used onboard" were clearly written at the top of my bus ticket. We continued the journey along the winding roads of Zambian countryside. The flat horizon gently gave way to a rolling hillscape. Tiny villages made of various sized mud huts littered the land. The air was dusty. It created a yellow haze that seemed to dampen my vision of life outside the window. The bush, dead, yellow, and lifeless after having gone months without a single drop of rain. I knew it was just a matter of weeks though before the rains would come and bring the land back to life. We were three hours into our journey. I peered out the window to see the beautiful Zambezi River meandering its way through the landscape. Ahead of us was a large bridge, which provided us access into neighboring Zimbabwe. As we crossed over the Zambezi, to the west was a second bridge, old and rundown. It appeared to not be in use anymore, though the monkeys seemed to find it a good playing ground.
As we pulled up to border control, we quickly exited our bus and filed inside to fill out the necessary documents that would allow us travel through Zimbabwe. I was greeted with a friendly hello and small conversation by the clerk. I handed over my passport but so quickly received hostility. With a firm, "You can not be here," I gave a puzzled look. "You are illegally residing in Zambia and have been for months. You can not be here!" I was told that my visa was expired as of September 3rd. Of course I knew that was impossible, as I clearly remember visiting the immigration office three times in August to sort out my work visa. My third visit proved successful and I was cleared for a year extension. In true Zambian fashion, however, none of this was documented and the only 'proof'' I had was a little receipt that was so conveniently residing on the bottom shelf of my closet back in Lusaka. Shoot. I look at Arthur and yes, he is in the same boat. We were immediately directed to step outside and ordered to gather our luggage quickly from the bus. It became clear that I was not moving quick enough because the angry official(Who I am now going to call Briefcase, because yes that is an actual name of a person here in Zambia) yelled at me from his car window to get a move on. Arthur grabbed our luggage from under the bus and I hopped inside to gather what belongings we had at our seats. With a bit of hesitation, we dropped our bags in the back of Briefcase's 4x4 and quietly took a seat inside. We were immediately rushed back to the Zambian side, forced to exit the vehicle, and were led into an office along the northeast end of the building. "You are under arrest!" Briefcase said. Wait....is this really happening? I couldn't actually believe the situation. Picture this, Arthur and I pleading our case. Briefcase sitting behind his desk, legs crossed. Hands raised behind his head in relaxation. Turns on his radio. Not even listening to a word we are saying. "You have one phone call. " He turns to look at me, "Why do you think you can get out of this? What's your story? You'll need to present your case to the man in charge" Well Mr... let me tell you... While I explain my case, Arthur calls someone back in Lusaka who is able to retrieve those much needed documents. And because Zambia is all official, Briefcase tells us to have our friend send over those documents via WhatsApp. It wasn't until those documents arrived that Briefcase finally budged. He dropped the attitude and the game. I looked at Arthur in complete relief. We quickly traveled back to the Zim side via Briefcase's 4x4 to find that, great, our bus left us, the only two white passengers on board. You think it might be obvious that we were missing? Okay, well Briefcase then told us to go inside and get our Zim visa. For some reason, we did and I was still holding out hope that there would be a way for us to find our bus, to continue our journey onward. Briefcase gave us three options. 1. He would happily drive us Fast and Furious style down the road to track down our bus but he was sure it would ruin his reputation and definitely would look like he was smuggling people across the border. Really, we had two options. Option 2. We could chase after our bus via taxi, but that would surely cost no less than 100 USD. Option 3. Return to Lusaka. Feeling defeated, we opted for option 3. Here is the kicker. Option 3 meant that we had to return to the Zambian border and purchase yet another visa, because as of two minutes ago, we were officially in Zimbabwe. Hadn't we just proved though that we had a year long work visa in Zambia? Why did we have to pay to get back into Zambia? Briefcase.. playing the game and there we were, back in his office, paying for a visa. Funny, that while all of this was happening, another woman entered the room. She 'unknowling' purchased an illegal document from a stranger to get across the border. She explained to Arthur and I that she had no money and no family near by. She wanted to be our friend. And because we were her new friends, it meant we were obligated to give her money to get her our of jail. Hm, sorry. We just got arrested, missed our bus, and were forced to pay two visa fees. No money to spare.
Okay, so now that we had a plan, we just needed to put it into action. Lusaka, our destination. How to get there? We weren't sure. Well, there happened to be a very large bus sitting outside the Zambian border control with a flat tire. Briefcase asked the driver if we could hitch a ride back with them. Funny that Briefcase now was helping our cause. He was not the same person he was inside that office. The driver said yes. We wait for the bus to get into working order. Turns out, they couldn't fix the tire, so I kid you not, it was driven with one less tire. Arthur and I each pay $10 to hop on the bus. We had to carry our bags on board with us because the storage underneath, which I found out during our bus ride, wasn't used for luggage, though I didn't find out what it was actually used for. Also in true Zambian fashion, this bus was already overbooked, which meant that I, along with nearly 15 others, stood the entire 3 hour ride back to Lusaka. It was hot and we were cramped. I felt bad for the little boy sitting on the seat that was just next to me, because the sweat dripping from my face and arms dripped onto his lap, on numerous occasions. He also had sitting on his lap his dinner. which consisted of rice and chicken. Oops. I apologized as many times as I could. Along this journey home, we crossed through several police check points. Hilarious. At each one, a man from the front of the bus yelled "Everyone, quiet! Get down! Get Down!" Right, because we were illegally transporting people on an overcrowded bus from Zimbabwe to Zambia.
Well, Arthur and I made it back to Lusaka after dark but unfortunately, we never made it to Johannesburg. The beginning of our journey so quickly became the end and what started out like any ordinary day of travel, proved to be quite the opposite. It goes without saying though, this surely was an adventure to remember.
In the words of Julie Platt, AWA!!.. meaning AFRICA WINS AGAIN!
Places vary across regions. So do the lenses to which they are viewed. I think it is obvious when I note that what encompasses these variations include all things geographical, environmental, social, political, human. These make 'place' unique. The distinctive characteristics of 'place' take time to develop. It can take years, decades, centuries, even millennium for a single characteristic to evolve into its current state and to take root in a lasting form. These characteristics aid in the development of the intricate bonds that form between man and 'place' and are ultimately what root man to 'place'.
When I first arrived in Zambia, its unique characteristics seemed so profoundly different, yet highly significant, that I immediately felt out of 'place'. The air was different. The smells. The people. The language. Greetings were different. Life here, so vastly different than my norm. It took some time but eventually, I realized that I wasn't out of 'place'. I was simply in a new 'place'. As soon as that realization surfaced, I was able to view this 'place' for what it truly was. I was able view this 'place' as my new norm.
How is life different here in Zambia? The following are the obvious, and perhaps the not so obvious, differences I have recently noted;
- We have recently entered spring here in Africa and it is HOT. There has been not a single drop of rain for the 2.5 months I have been here. Hardly ever a cloud in the sky.
- The most commonly seen animals are lizards and toads.
- Sidewalks are a rarity. Most people walk alongside the road and have carved out their own paths.
- People don't honk their car horns here. If you decide to block a lane of oncoming traffic, they will kindly slow and wait for you to pass.
- Speaking of cars, people drive on the left side of the road. I had a hard time remembering then that everything was reversed, including the blinker and the windshield wipers.
- The shower is never in the same room as the toilet. There are always two rooms.
- Every sink comes with two handles. A hot and cold. And you will get just that when you turn on the water. Its either scalding hot or frigidly cold.
- People are very, very afraid of dogs here. When I walk our dog Kamba, people literally run across the street to get away from us.
- Kids love chasing white people.
- There are many different methods of hand washing clothes. Knuckle to knuckle. Palm to palm. Palm to knuckle... there are more. I just don't know them yet.
- Everyone speaks multiple languages. In Lusaka, the most common is town Nyanja- which is a combination of the 72 different languages that exist within all of Zambia. Why can I only speak english??
- Chips are called crisps and fries are called chips. Its confusing.
- Pretzels don't exist. Nor do bagels.
- Grocery stores have entire rows dedicated to tea and entire rows dedicated to crackers for tea.
- Instead of ending a sentence with Right?! People say Isn't it?
- Questions are statements. I would say; Can you show me that report? Zambians say; I am asking you to show me that report.
- There are soccer fields everywhere. And I mean everywhere. And its true- people play with balls, with cans, with rags wrapped around more rags. Barefoot soccer is the most common. Sock covered feet is the second most common.
- Zambian time is a true thing. Zambian time means you are late to everything.
- The Chitenge is the common female garment. They are usually wrapped around the waist and act as a skirt. Chitenges though are also made into anything and everything. Suits, shirts, dresses, curtains. People also carry them everywhere they go and use them as rags. It is so dusty, so when people get to where they are going, they w hip out their chitenge to clean their shoes and feet. That is a first priority when my colleagues arrive to work.
- I live with cockroaches of all sizes. And mice.
- Maybe this will give you an idea of safety in Lusaka; I live in a cemented in compound. My house next to my office. The top of the cement walls are layered in shards of glass and atop that- a two foot high electric fence.
- People sell puppies at intersections. I literally asked a man if he was selling puppies because I heard that was a thing. The light turned green,, he sprints down the street and yells I'll meet you at the other corner.. he comes running up to the car with two puppies.
- People don't run so it seems very strange to them when I head out for my daily run. I get a lot of strange stares and faces with the look like "What the heck are you doing?" I will occasionally get the child that wants to run alongside me or the man with his briefcase who thinks it looks fun and joins in.
- Its crazy in town. Literally, crazy. Imagine hundreds/thousands of people crowded on streets selling things, stealing things, breaking things, drinking alcohol, blaring music, dumping trash...its enough to make you crazy. If you lapse concentration for just one second, better look down for your purse or keys.
- Minibuses are the main source of transportation for people. You can't imagine the numbers they fit into those things. The buses are so packed that all that is seen through the windows is skin smashed up against the window. The butt of the vans practically rub the road raw.
- Its also very common to see 10-15 people standing and sitting in the beds of large trucks driving down the highway. Last weekend, I was driving behind a lovely group of maybe 12 individuals who were sitting in the back of a truck eating their nshima, rice, and chicken while clocking in at 100 km/h. We waved to each other and they offered us in the car a handful of nshima. I could only muster a lot of laughter. They laughed too.
- Roadsides are lined with stands of fresh vegetables, meats, clothes, tools. You can buy anything from the side road shacks. Just have to be careful they don't up the price because you're a mazungu.
- Getting directions to somewhere is near impossible. On any one occasion, I could receive 10 sets of directions to the same place; not one of them actually taking me to where I need to be. I have spent a LOT of time getting lost, and getting lost again.
- I have been asked by different women on numerous occasions if I would cut off my hair and give it to them so they could have a new weave. Hm, I don't think I will do that.
- Dance. People love to dance. And let me tell you, Zambians know how to dance. Its this crazy hip/leg dance with the arms and shoulders. I am not painting a very good picture of this dance. Hopefully I will learn so that one day I can demonstrate.
- Brooms. They also act as rakes. And they are about the length of an arm and made out of straw. It requires a lot of energy to rake an entire yard with one of these. Bent over, whipping back and forth, back and forth.
- Ringtones are the 'in' thing right now. Doesn't matter if you are at work, in a very important meeting with a partner organization. Sound is on. Ringtone blares. The phone is always answered.
- Lusaka is the capital of Zambia. Though living here doesn't quite feel like the urban sprawl of a capital city back home. Everything, severely rundown. There is no municipal waste system so trash is everywhere. The most common form of living is in a compound- where people live up to 20 in a single shack. Unemployment rates are through the roof. People just sit around all day long under a shady tree and watch the passersby.
- People here are very religious. Christianity is the dominant religion. People will spend entire weekends attending services.
- Zambia still is dominantly a patriarchal society. Men literally 'pay' for the woman they ask to marry. If the woman has a higher degree, she can sometimes be worth millions of dollars, to which the man will be paying off in installments for the rest of his life. ***he pays her father
To Be Continued....
Standing still, I can't move. The fire burns. It flickers through me with eager determination. That fire is uncomfortable. It crackles in my heart and smolders the edges. I fight it. A grey plume of smoke covers me from the inside out, a fabric of seemingly noxious existence. I start to choke. Full of ominousness, the flicker turns to flames. The smoke fades, an illumination of light. I open my hands, palms facing up, aglow. Everything within me and in front of me, irradiated. I take a single step forward.
This is the beauty of long term travel-being part of a world completely separate than the norm and void of repose- it creates a ragbag of emotion that challenges and creates growth.
It isn't every day that we allow ourselves the opportunity to step outside of comfort. Perhaps, one never allows themselves that opportunity. But why? It's easy being comfortable. Life is easy in routine. Award yourself the adventure of opportunity. It is in that adventure that weaknesses wane and fragility turns to strength. Cross over the border. Take Heart.
Zambia is quite the intriguing place. The normal suddenly seems extraordinary and delightfully challenging; an entirely new country, with new people, new attitudes, new traditions. Every day is a venture through the unknown. The mind wanders aimlessly in every direction. Where will I go? Who will I meet? Where should I buy my groceries? Am I getting the Mzungu(white person) fare? Should I say hi in english or nyanja or bemba or tonga.. oh wait I only speak english. Muli bwanji! Can I get on that mini bus? Maybe next time. Will my shower be warm? How long will my laundry take me today? I hope I'm scrubbing long enough. Should I take a side road? No. no street signs. I will get lost. Where is the market? Where can I exchange my money? Where is the coffee shop? Who sells bagels? Is this milk still good. Is Sharon making nshima today? When is the power outage? No internet today. Oh, no running water. Oh wait, no power either. I hope the Prado doesn't die. Where is the Braai? Wait, the second dirt road or the third or wait, after the big tree? AH, I'm on the wrong side of the road. Watch out for the curb. Take the fifth turn off the chicken round-a-about. Lawn bowling anyone? Want to play soccer? How many stares will I get today when I go for my run? I wonder how many people will start running next to me. Do you have a clicker? Where is Kamba? We're on Zambia time. I wonder if my package will arrive next month or the one after that. Window open tonight? Okay, mosquito net it is. Why is my rice moving? Oh, those are roaches. What happened to that apple? The mouse ate it. What's that smell?
All the stimulus. All those questions. Remember that there exists the potential to feel every single emotion on any given day. The fear, the anxiety, the excitement, the happy, the sad, the challenging, the nerves, the hesitation, the discomfort, the wonder, the awe. They are all part of the adventure, the opportunity. What you will find when you take that leap.
Another series of interventions complete. Grassroot Soccer graduated nearly 100 youth over the course of just two weeks. Heightened awareness. Life skills. Confidence. Please scroll through the images to catch the excitement.
Educate. Inspire. Mobilize. Stop the spread of HIV.
My eyes keep shifting. Everything in motion; I can't find a focal point. I'm curious, like a hummingbird curiously flitting from one fruitful flower to the next. My eyes look left, then suddenly my gaze jumps right. I turn to look over my shoulder and in an instant, I'm engulfed in a whirling cloud of dust and smoke, perfumed with smells of roasted nuts, fresh fruits, meats, rot. Lost in a motionless stance, the world spins around me. Mixed conversations meander past, emanating from every direction while the sound of footsteps patter in the foreground. Standing there feels like hours, stimulated by a conglomeration of things that ignite every single one of my senses and one, that is to me, seemingly only capable of being felt over an extension of time. However, in a mere minute, I sense everything. Here, nothing is motionless. Everything, dynamic.
What does it mean to BE dynamic?
Be energetic.
Be spirited.
Be zestful.
Be flexible.
Be magnetic.
Be open.
Here, I am learning. I am evolving. The children are evolving. A Dynamic BEing.
Shift your disposition. When you do, the world will too.
So many things exist in life that influence the choices we make. Those choices are a reflection of attitude, circumstance, and behavior. They reflect wants and desires. We even choose out of necessity. These choices become our direction and their result, the very path we walk upon. What if we weren't given a choice? What if we didn't have the knowledge, the know how, to choose? How would our lives be affected? Where would we end up?
Friday, August 8th was a day there existed a choice. Grassroot Soccer sponsored a graduation for the children of the street. Though these children weren't able to participate in the GRS skillz program(a 10 session intervention with curriculum that teaches youth about topics such as HIV/AIDS prevention and awareness, stigmas, gender based violence, etc.), they were still able to participate in the graduation event. Cheerfully greeted by more than 100 youth, we sang songs in nyanja, kicked around a soccer ball and danced in the streets. We ate fresh fruits, roasted nuts, and were offered an array of colorful popsicles and other tasty treats. GRS events provide quite the unique experience and until you partake in one firsthand, you won't quite understand the depth of impact each has on a person and community. Soccer and music have a way of mobilizing crowds, and the graduation turned into a community wide event, with people curiously watching from the streets and stores that lined the compounds interior. What followed a very stimulating morning was an event that was, perhaps, life changing for many. Participants, who were able to provide proper consent, were tested for HIV. A conscience decision was made to know.
I was surprised to find that looking around, there existed only smiles, no fear. Why? Because making that choice and having that knowledge meant there existed a future, uniquely determined by will and built with a desire to know. You CAN determine your future, and these children were there, building their own path. I was humbled, to say the least The conclusion of the graduation was marked by a full 90 minute match. Participants, many barefoot, rambled around on a dirt and rock laden ground, kicking around a ball, as the sunlight trickled through the dusty air.
*Testing results are delivered to each family individually by a health care counselor and a GRS coach. If a participant tests positive, GRS helps facilitate physician follow ups and provides one on one counseling. It is possible to live a long and healthy life with HIV, with the proper treatment, and it is important to know that.
Sport isn't just an end to a means.
At the most fundamental level, it is the right of a child to engage in play and recreational activities. Physical activity is essential in the overall social, physical, mental, and psychological development of children. It is also during childhood that the mind is still open, free, imaginative, and learning, and yes, it is quite vulnerable. This leads me to the following discussion. Sport for development can play an essential role in the creation of a sustainable community and targeting youth is critical if this development is to be everlasting.
A look at sport for development through soccer:
Soccer is an integral part of many cultures from across the globe. Its universality connects people socially, physically, and mentally. This idea, the connections this sport makes, provides a structure and it is this structure that becomes the "glue" that holds together communities in need of support. Why not take this structure and apply to it a social theory that teaches the foundation for a new form of healthy living? Robert Chambers speaks truth- "In any given community, the motives and drive of the local people to improve their own lives are essential to the success of community development." The involvement of local people increases the sense of ownership and credibility and ensures a desire to sustain. Re-structuring a community at its roots, that is, giving power to the people, by the people, creates the ultimate means for success.
The bottoms up approach:
Since the middle of the 20th century, a series of African countries have been gaining their independence. Since this time, the idea of foreign 'aid' has also become popular and many Western countries have given millions to aid in their development. Despite this aid, there hasn't been much improvement and there is a lack of sustainability. Thus, the idea of a people's approach, that is a more comprehensive inclusion of local peoples in decision and action, has been brought to attention. It is critical that this approach target the youth- lets get real here- the success of our future lies within the hands of our youth. Providing support is critical and sharing knowledge, pivotal.
Can sport for development be effective in Africa?
Well, the answer is yes. In Sub-Saharan Africa, nearly 40% of the population is under the age of 15. Think of the power this population holds. Using soccer as a gateway to participation, especially with the involvement of such a young generation, significantly increases the likelihood that a shift in the tides of social and health reform can and will actually happen.
Nearly 65% of people newly infected with HIV/AIDS are living in Sub-Saharan Africa. Thus, sport for development, in Africa specifically, has been used to target this epidemic. Efforts have been focused on the sharing of information through sport and raising awareness about HIV/AIDS prevention measures to minimize the risk of contracting the virus. Most sport based programs do not provide direct treatment but rather focus on using the game to mobilize at-risk groups and promote healthier standards of living, prevention, and education. The only way to prevent this disease is to educate- stop it before it gets the chance to infect. What would the result be? An AIDS free generation.
What has Grassroot Soccer done?
Grassroot Soccer has been operating in South Africa since 2006, and set up its African headquarters in Cape Town in 2008.
Following the successful design and implementation of the DeBeers Pilot Project in the Northern Cape in 2006, Grassroot Soccer ushered in 2007 by launching several community-based, football for development programs across South Africa. New sites were created across South Africa, including Port Elizabeth, Cape Town, Gauteng Province, Bloemfontein, the Northern Cape and Limpopo Provinces.
GRS then created a similar Direct Model program in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. Port Elizabeth has some of the highest HIV rates in South Africa, and GRS at the time was one of the only organizations there that was working in the HIV prevention area, making the site an ideal location for GRS programming.
GRS South Africa now implements three main programs across five sites in South Africa. These programs include SKILLZ Core (designed to target primary school students), Generation SKILLZ (designed to target secondary school students), and SKILLZ Street (a girls specific program designed for 13-16 year olds).
In February, 2005 Grassroot Soccer (GRS) established a flagship site in Lusaka, Zambia. As a bustling urban center, Lusaka faces the staggering challenges HIV poses to many large cities in southern Africa. At the end of 2005, UNICEF estimated the adult HIV prevalence rate in Zambia to be at 17%, or 1 in 6 adults infected, one of the highest infection rates in the world.
In the last four years, GRS has partnered with many local and international non-governmental organizations, private companies, and the government to implement its HIV Education and Life Skills curriculum. These include Africa Directions Community Center (AD), Barclays Bank, the Kalusha Bwalya Foundation, Breakthrough Sports Academy (BSA), the International Organization for Migration (IOM), the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), Engen, the Ministry of Education, Project Concern International (PCI), Africare, and others.
Current projects include working with the Peer Education Team at Africa Directions, partnering with the Ministry of Education and Physical Education Teachers to deliver the GRS curriculum in Community and Government Schools, working with a group of promising young football players and coaches called PEP FC, and revitalizing the GRS programs in Mayukwayukwa and Maheba Refugee camps with the help of Breakthrough Sports Academy.
Grassroot Soccer Zambia has seen the graduation of over 23,165 youth through the GRS curriculum and indirectly exposed an additional 68,000 people to HIV prevention messages in Zambia.
Pretty amazing right? Want to support Grassroot Soccer and their mission? Please consider donating to my campaign by clicking here.
Soccer in my life;
I spend my life moving forward, reaching further, and dreaming bigger. When I stop to think about what has been this driving force in my life, really decode each chapter, it comes down to pure and simple PASSION. At an early age, I found soccer. There wasn’t a day that passed that I didn’t touch a ball. Soccer became such a major part of my life that my existence was defined by it. Soccer became my identity. My goals started small. Get two assists in today’s game. Score a goal perhaps. They eventually grew larger. Make the high school varsity team. Become a starter. Eventually, I dreamed of playing competitively as an NCAA DI athlete. My dreams did come true and it was through persistence, hard work and most importantly, passion. It wasn't just a game to me anymore. Soccer meant more to me than that. I understand looking back on my soccer career that so much of who I am today, I owe to the game of soccer. Soccer provided me with structure. It taught me the importance of hard work, trust, and dedication. I learned what it meant to be a part of a team and understood the value of the support a team can provide. Soccer also taught me the importance of ADAPTABILITY. It made me vulnerable. It put me often times somewhere I had never been before and that was unnerving and unsettling. The greatness in this though is that it allowed for adjustments, adaptations. It stretched my mind and body to perform and act in ways more fitting, that challenged, and that created growth. When my college soccer career ended, I felt a sense of uneasiness. I felt that I suddenly had lost everything I had once identified myself with. However, I realized quickly that though my time as a competitive athlete was over, it didn’t mean I was going to lose my passion for game. What is rooted in the game and thus in myself will never leave me. Today, I continue to look for ways I can share my passion and love for the game with others. This is a passion for the “essence” of soccer. The idea that though a game on the surface, its roots extend much deeper and can and do provide the nutrients necessary to support LIFE.
Soccer took me to Zambia.
For 12 months, I worked as a volunteer intern for Grassroot Soccer (GRS) in Lusaka, Zambia. I wanted to share in GRS’s mission because soccer bettered me, and I believed it could better others too. GRS is a recognized 501(c)3 whose mission is to “Use the power of soccer to educate, inspire, and mobilize communities to stop the spread of HIV.” Their vision; “A world mobilized through soccer to create an AIDS free generation.” Since its inception, Grassroot Soccer has continuously worked on developing and refining an innovative HIV prevention and life-skills curriculum that is now coined “Skillz.” It focuses on ways youth can live healthier and risk free. It reaches at-risk youth through a sport for development approach, with soccer as the platform, and is delivered by well-respected and trained community role models including soccer players, teachers, and coaches. The implementation of this program has sparked the creation of numerous others. Today, GRS is successfully running nine different programs that target audiences through various interventions related to age, gender, psychological, physical, and emotional stresses. Nearly 631, 121 youth have graduated from their programs with a greater awareness and sensitivity towards health and HIV. Grassroot Soccer's goal: an AIDS free generation. The emphasis of these programs lies in the recognition that life and sport are interconnected, that goals can be achieved no matter how big or small, and ways to live healthier and stay protected do exist.
As a sport, soccer has the power to be transforming. Embrace the game, and it can and will change you forever. It's universal language has connected cultures from across the world. Never has another sport had such a profound ability to reach the hearts and minds of any one individual. All that is needed; a ball and a smiling face.
National Geographic's Sean Wilsey has said it best:
"Soccer's worldwide popularity isn't surprising when you look at what has always motivated humanity: money and God. There's lots of money in soccer, of course. Club soccer (like capitalism) is basically the childlike desire to make dreams come true, no matter what the cost, realized by men with enough money to combine such commodities as the best Brazilian attacker, Dutch midfielder, British defender, and German goalie and turn them loose on whatever the other billionaires can put together—an unfair situation that describes much of the world these days. But the divine's there, too. What is soccer if not everything that religion should be? Universal yet particular, the source of an infinitely renewable supply of hope, occasionally miraculous, and governed by simple, uncontradictory rules ("laws," officially) that everyone can follow. Soccer's laws are laws of equality and nonviolence and restraint, and free to be reinterpreted at the discretion of a reasonable arbiter. What the ref says goes, no matter how flagrantly in violation of dogma his decisions may be...
And why not? Soccer's universality is its simplicity—the fact that the game can be played anywhere with anything. Urban children kick the can on concrete and rural kids kick a rag wrapped around a rag wrapped around a rag, barefoot, on dirt. Soccer is something to believe in now, perhaps empty at its core, but not a stand-in for anything else. Soccer can unite us all."