July 3, 2014

Cock-a-doodle-doo is a universal language

NOTE: This is the second part of a two-part blog. Again, the internet is not really cooperating, so there will be a slight lack of photos. It began at 3am as we lay in complete darkness. First it was just once, but within 15 minutes it was like clockwork. Every 10 seconds one of the many roosters surrounding the farm

NOTE: This is the second part of a two-part blog. Again, the internet is not really cooperating, so there will be a slight lack of photos.

It began at 3am as we lay in complete darkness. First it was just once, but within 15 minutes it was like clockwork. Every 10 seconds one of the many roosters surrounding the farm would sing his song. I am told that you get used to it, perhaps as I have to the sounds of traffic outside my window in Seattle. Nevertheless, Rene and I did our best to sleep until the time our alarm began to blare at 05:10.

Getting up out of bed, we dressed, attempted to un-dishevel ourselves (or is it just shevel?) and went outside to catch a ride back to the village. CJ and his friend were sleeping in the truck, so a quick knock turned a car-sleeper into a chauffeur. Within 5 minutes, we were back in the village and greeting Martha and her mother.

Martha’s morning chores were similar to that of the night before. She scrubbed the pots and plates, bathed, swept, and put on her school uniform and within 15 or so minutes, we began the 2km walk back to school. During this walk, the groups of students were far less spread out. Martha walked with a group of 5 boys, her friend Gertrude, and her younger sister.

As fast as the sun went down and it got cool the night before, the sun was just as quick to come up and begin baking. I suddenly wished I hadn’t worn my fleece while carrying a 35lb backpack and a dual camera harness.

We got to school at 07:00, right on time, and Martha slipped into an empty desk and prepared for class. Her first class was science with Maurice Masala and the topic of the day was pollination. While Maurice threw pointed questions out to the class, many of which I didn’t know the answer to, Martha proceeded to answer each question under her breath with the accuracy of Ken Jennings. She was called upon a few times to answer a question, each time resulting in the same, correct reply. She was a force to be reckoned with. She proceeded to do the same through both her civics class as well as in mathematics. I was beyond impressed. Martha is just as devoted to her education as she is to her family – the model citizen of Zambia, not to mention the US.

After class let out, Rene and I went around the school grounds and took pictures of other children, the buildings, teachers, and other aspects of Dwankhozi that caught our attention. I couldn’t help but notice that everyone seemed to know Rene by name, and vice-versa. It was obvious that my time behind the camera has somewhat shielded me from those that surround me here at Dwankhozi – a sad truth that I hope to compensate for by continuing to introduce them to you.

Today, I was inundated with students wishing to have their picture taken. This is just one of many.

Today, I was inundated with students wishing to have their picture taken. This is just one of many.

What would have turned into trash in the US has been repurposed into a backpack. So hipster.

What would have turned into trash in the US has been repurposed into a backpack. So hipster.

The rest of the group arrived around 11:45 as Rene and I helped Bertha and the rest of the ladies prepare today’s meal. The amount of work going into the meal, and  even just into the creating of groundnut powder, is astonishing. We spent at least an hour pounding and sifting groundnuts just to be left with a small bowl of powder to show for it. Again, a craft best to be left to the masters.

Prior to the rest of the group returning to the school grounds, Rene captures another elusive photo of me. This time, I am sifting crushed groundnuts.

Prior to the rest of the group returning to the school grounds, Rene captures another elusive photo of me. This time, I am sifting crushed groundnuts.

While we prepared, there was a meeting between the women of the community and the PTA that many members of our group participated in. A meeting that was supposed to last 30 minutes proceeded to take at least a few hours, albeit a very productive few hours. In the meeting, they discussed the groundnut program that they started this last year. In the program, they sponsored women by giving them $10 to start, which the women would start a farm with. The women would sell their nuts to the crop manager who would sell the nuts on the open market, the process would restart. They also talked about the adult literacy program. Last year, many of the community members were unable to sign their names, but due to the program were now able to do so.

As the meeting wrapped up, I was called over to help document a dance circle that had formed. The women of the community boisterously sang, full of joy, as the entire circle clapped in unison. Just as with any good dance circle, members of it would jump in at their whim and dance their hearts out. The QAE teachers joined with enthusiasm as smiles and laughs broke out across the crowd. It was truly a magical moment.

We then ate a delicious lunch as a group, recalling the day’s events as well as those of earlier this week. As plates emptied, the group split in two as some of the group left for another nearby primary school and the rest stayed behind at Dwankhozi. The women that stayed behind split off to teach the women of Dwankhozi how to make the bracelets that were so prominently promoted throughout this year at QAE while the males continued to build upon the relationships that they had created this week.

The afternoon finished out with playing a bit of football again, watching nettiball, and, finally, showing the QAE video that we presented during DH week to children and teachers who remained on the school grounds. The volume was a bit lacking, but it was a nice way to end our time together.

This man posed stoically, as his torn pants wavered in the wind.

This man posed stoically, as his torn pants wavered in the wind.

Saying goodbye was incredibly difficult, even to someone who spent the majority of his time behind the camera rather than interacting face-to-face. Long, meaningful handshakes and hugs abounded as well as well-wishes and “see you soon”s. Soon enough though, we were back in the van and on our way to the Cross Roads Lodge, our Chipata home.

It was a very introspective ride back to the hotel. Looking out over the dark landscape littered with bush fires, one could not help but think about the children of Dwankhozi, some of whom undoubtedly live exactly where we are looking. With the friendships that we have built and the seeming progress the school has made, we can only hope that we can continue to make a difference.

Thank you again for continuing to tune into the blog. Your support is what has made this trip possible.

Cheers,

Ryan

  1. Thank you Ryan for the perfect words and images you choose that tell am amazing story! Each post brings us closer to the group and the journey.

  2. Your words and pictures are so beautiful. I look forward to these morning posts and think about them during the day. Blessings to all of you.

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