September 7, Mwembezhi

Another full day of interviews!

I slept as long as I could—5:40—but we left early to make it to Mwembezhi on time. Traffic in Lusaka seems to be on another level than in other big cities because there really only is one road going north-south, and one going east-west. That inevitably means that the entire city is a bottleneck for people trying to move around and get through. As long as you’re out by 7 though, it seems to be OK.

Early morning sunlight at the church in Mwembezhi

 

Me with two literacy circle facilitators and Paul (far right), my translator.

Paul, Jason and I went to speak with literacy circle facilitators about their goals and needs from the program’s leadership. Their perspective was very different from that of the home-based care volunteers, and they seemed to be operating more independently (for better or for worse) from the program than some of the volunteers nearer to home base.

We also got to tour the Lutheran Mission clinic in Mwembezhi. It was really great to see. The compound is made up of a church (it has brick walls, a stone floor and about 30 wooden benches inside. The altar is very simple), the existing 50-year-old clinic and a new structure that’s being built, homes for the pastor, the nurses and clinic workers, about 8 wandering cows, some chickens, and a borehole the project sunk a few years ago.

When we arrived at 8am, the pastor was outside brushing his teeth. One of his daughters runs her own beauty shop—an open-air structure about 6’x8’ with an outlet for hair dryers and a flatiron. About 20 people were waiting outside the clinic.

When I finished talking with Gertrude, the literacy chairwoman, at 9:15am there were 20 people inside the clinic and about 20 more outside waiting.

People of all ages wait outside the clinic to see a nurse or doctor

Then I spoke with the pastor and Paul in the pastor’s home. A collage of family photos hung high on the otherwise empty walls. We talked about his role with the H&D program, as well as his constant struggle to balance serving the church, the community, and these additional programs. His frankness brought a lot of important information to light; the pastors, who are supposed to be leaders and liaisons between project volunteers and program leadership, don’t know their role. They feel like they’re stepping on toes if they get involved in the volunteers’ work, and they feel guilty for asking for things from the office staff. Learning this gave me great insight for how to improve communication for the program.

The bell outside of Mwembezhi's church

 After talking about H&D we talked about our families for a while. He was shocked at how small my family is. “Just one brother? ONE?” He told me to marry when I found the right person, and to do better family planning than his generation of Africans. He then told me that many young Zambians cling to the notion that they need to choose someone compatible, get married and start having children while they are young. But compatible doesn’t always mean happy. And sometimes you can have “too many” children. I reassured him I wasn’t planning on getting married OR having children any time soon.

The mission church near the rural health clinic looks like it could be located in Kentucky, or Iowa, Wisconsin.

By 10am 30 people were inside the clinic and another 40 (men, women, children and infants) were waiting outside.

The outside of the health clinic.

The tiny "lab," filled with filing boxes.

We toured the clinic, which has a one-room lab, a waiting room full of paperwork and people, two screening rooms and an HIV counseling room, a rest area for serious cases, a delivery room and a wash station for the nurses. All of this is in a teeny-tiny building, slightly larger than the “Ad Lounge” (our basement conference room) at KW2. The clinic is still mission-funded, but staffed and run by Zambians.

The rural health clinic, from the back.

They’ve also trained CHPs—Community Healthcare Providers—to care for people in neighboring towns. People sometimes walk 40km to get to the clinic, so these workers are trained to treat mild sicknesses and common problems, and they are trained to identify more serious cases that need to go to the clinic. This cuts down on the long lines at the clinic, and gets people the care they need faster.

Out back there’s another borehole where a clinic worker and some children were pumping for water. Cows grazed next to the outdoor restrooms, and the crowd outside just kept growing and growing.

Cows and an outhouse seem out of place behind the rural health clinic.

After our tour we drove back to Lusaka. I went for a walk on my own, my first without the ladies…and everyone stared at me.

A bus taxi (blue on the bottom, white on top…mostly legit) stopped and tried to pick me up! “Miss, it is too hot to be walking,” the driver said.

Everyone on the roadside stood as I passed by. Many said “hello.” None of it seemed malicious or dangerous in any way…I think people were just shocked to see a white 20-something woman out by herself. Apparently that doesn’t happen very often.

I was also alone, and walking “just for exercise.” No one does that here. They walk to and from work or school every morning and evening, out of necessity. There’s no need for a gym (although that’s changing because of poor diet and an increasing number of sedentary jobs…and an exponentially growing rate of diabetes) because people walk because they need to.

I worked for a bit that evening, then Jason and I grilled some shish kabobs and relaxed for the evening.  It’s been a tiring week, but would get more relaxed from here.