A Very Zam Thanksgiving

A list of my favourite holidays would currently include the following: Christmas, Halloween, any holiday with fireworks, and Labour day because it’s so ironic. Other potential new faves include: Guy Fawkes, All Saints and Dewali. Thanksgiving is noticeably absent from this list. I can’t say exactly why, but I always thought it was just a lame holiday. Sit around, stuff yourself, and pass out while watching American football. Not great in comparison to the truly great holidays of this world. Maybe it’s because Thanksgiving is such an intense family holiday and family has always been a little dicey for me? Bah, Christmas is full of family and it is the cat’s meow, the freaking bee’s knees! Whatever my reasoning, I don’t love this American pastime.

While I have spent Thanksgiving away from home before, this one was unique mostly because it was about 85 degrees, humid, and I spent several hours sunbathing in a pool. I have become pretty accustomed to cold rain, snow, and just general ugliness at this time of year. My actual Thanksgiving Day was spent at the Craig’s home (Katie’s parents) in Lusaka, relaxing and spending time with new friends. However, this was only the warm up meal.

The Mulilo (fire) flat warmly welcomed 23-ish guests to its tiny home on Saturday for a traditional American Thanksgiving feast. I personally took charge of the dishes and general clean-up seeing as though I am completely useless in the kitchen. Despite my best efforts to set something on fire or add peanut butter to the squash, the meal went off without a hitch. I suppose the table did catch on fire at one point, but that just seemed to be an appropriate initiation. I was elected as the MC for the evening: sporting the name “Lady Kyla,” carrying around a giant spoon meant to stir n’shima, and distributing the “special” drinks. Another duty of mine was to conduct the “Thanksgiving question game, aka, Ask the Americans.” Since most of our guests were Zambian, they didn’t have a solid idea of what the heck we were celebrating. Delightful questions were posed, such as “Why are we here?” and “Why do you eat turkey, I mean, why not duck?" My knowledge of Thanksgiving history is weak, but luckily Sara was bursting with info since her mother was obsessed with the pilgrims (who isn’t?!)

As in any good Thanksgiving party, we ended the night with a violent round of spoons. Katie and I placed first and second, respectively, decided by an arm-wrestling competition (draw) and finally an exhilarating round of rock, paper, scissors. Most of the apartment cleaned up nicely after the night of fun; however, our kitchen still smells like a combination of vomit, caterpillars and mildew. Delicious.

Standing at the Edge

In mid-November I took my first trip out of Lusaka, a much-needed (literal) breath of fresh air. The daily grind was starting to gnaw away at my joy, and it was time to run around outdoors and just play. Whirlwind was the name of the game- an 8 hour bus ride on Saturday with the return on Monday morning left us with about 36 hours to visit Victoria Falls. Saturday was dedicated to sitting by a pool and eating, lots of eating. In fact, we had two separate dinners. The first took place in a deserted bar/night club, spinning classical rock while we munched away on nachos and crocodile burgers. After an exhilarating round of pool without a proper cue ball (but with bugs-a-plenty), we headed off to dinner number two. This consisted of pizza and milkshakes while listening to a faux jazz/salsa band, covering such hits as “Red Wine” and “Killing me Softly.” Saturday ended with all of my flatmates falling asleep in the hostel room, passed out with the lights on.

Luckily Sunday made the 16 hour trip totally worthwhile. Sara, Michelle, Luke and I headed off to the falls around 10am and didn’t return until after sunset. We spent the day hiking around every imaginable trail, battling baboons, and even enjoyed the screaming as Luke and Sara swung across the gorge. Since the falls are at their lowest this time of year, we were able to actually hike across the top of them. Normally this part of the falls would be gushing with millions of tons of water, but we faced minimal resistance while hiking to the edge of the cliff. Standing at the edge of falls gave me the strangest urge to sing “This is my Father’s World,” and I did in fact hum it a few times that day. It is impossible to not be in awe of all the wonders, to shake in your boots a bit, and just be thankful for the amazing experience.

On the trek out to the edge of the falls, we met two Aussie brothers, Joe and Lewie, who were at the tail end of traveling around the world for a year. Later on that evening we enjoyed a “traditional” Zambian meal together, which in Livingstone apparently means eating n’shima and peanut chicken (pounded by the village wives) with a bib. It was weird. We ended the weekend with a few drinks, games and a good reason to learn Spanish. After a mere 5 hours of sleep on Sunday night, Sara and I managed to throw ourselves onto a bus and begin the long trek home. Despite the exhaustion, I had the bounce back in my step.

The Accountant who would have been a Football Star

I really don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, and I am okay with that. For the longest time, I was convinced that law school was the place for me. There are lots of reasons why I thought this would be the case, and lots of reasons why I changed my mind, neither of which I plan on elaborating on today. The point is, things have changed, I have changed, and I am okay with that. But most importantly, that is not the point of today’s story.

One day after a long day of work at IJM, I was looking up different work options for after my year-long internship. Things got a little desperate, and at one point I think I even Googled, “what should I do with my life.” I wish that had worked. One of the few times that Google has let me down. I closed my computer in frustration and decided to ask a random question of my office mate, Preach.

Preach is our accountant and he does a wonderful job. In addition to Preach’s accounting skills, he is intelligent, sings beautifully and is incredibly articulate. When I look at Preach, I see someone who could have done anything he wanted with his life. Seeing as I would never be an accountant, my obvious question for Preach was: “if you could have done anything with your life, what would it have been?”

I learned that evening that Preach would have been a football star, a professional swimmer, or basically a professional athlete in any sport. So why not pursue this dream? Shouldn’t you just do what you love? Aye, there’s the rub! I learned in school that growing up in the developing world means you lack a number of basic rights or freedoms. If you are at the bottom of the food chain, you may lack access to clean water, food or basic healthcare. Yet, even the privileged are restrained. If you are lucky enough to receive a university education, especially abroad, you are expected to give back to your country and your family. As I think back, I see the trend of international students who studied law and engineering, practical studies for development and professions with the promise of a consistent income. Where were all the international students studying modern dance, Italian Renaissance art, or the effects of pop music on the national psyche?

As our discussion continued, Preach commented on the endless possibilities I have as a Westerner, particularly as an American. No matter how obscure a subject I want to study, there is a school (or a country) for that. I can literally do whatever I want with my life. And in that moment, I felt the tension. What a privilege, but for the love of God, don’t waste it.

For the Love of Food

I am NOT a food connoisseur, far from it. I am slowly learning how to pay attention to my meals, but it comes about as naturally to me as knitting or standing in a field during thunderstorms. However, since arriving in Zambia, I have noticed a dramatic change in my diet: mostly the increase of my intake of both salt and sugar. My daily cup of salt comes from the Zambian staple of “n’shima,” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nshima Zambians eat n’shima for lunch, dinner, and even for breakfast in a slightly weirder and runnier form (yumm). N’shima, combined with some form of meat, veggie and sauce is simply fun to eat. I feel as though I am transported back to kindergarten as I scoop the n’shima up with fingers, vainly attempt to sculpt it into a perfect ball, and collect a delectable side dish on the journey to my mouth. This custom feels particularly fitting and confusing when I am wearing a suit; eating with my fingers, messing with play dough and inevitably dropping beans into my lap. What is not to love?

Despite their filling and fun main course, Zambians seriously lack good dessert. For an American girl with a sweet tooth, this is especially disappointing at the end of a super salty meal. To make up for it, I have developed a keen “sugar vision” to help me find delicious snacks in the flat. Peanut butter, chocolate, ice cream, milo, cookies- anything I can get my hands on! All of a sudden I am addicted to peanut butter and would give my left arm for a bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups. Sweet snacks are a topic of daily discussion for the suffering muzungus in my flat, “did you use the last of the milo?” “did you buy more ice cream today?” and “why in the world would you eat all of the cookie dough?” Everyone is suspect, common courtesy goes out the window, and the last one to the cookie jar loses. A food’s value lies solely in whether or not you can put peanut butter on it, for example: apples- yes, oranges-no, bananas-yes, green beans- no.

Thankfully, we have a baker in the flat. The goddess is named Sara and no, you can’t have her. Thanks to her delicate Southern hands, I have so far eaten half a container of quiz bar cookie dough and devoured homemade peanut butter cups with scary intensity. Her brother, Luke, brought further treats into the flat this past week: dove chocolate and a large bag of Tootsie rolls. They were both gone within 24 hours. At this point, when you take away the chocolate and peanut butter, you take away my will to live. And I am okay with that. In fact, I think I will go have a peanut butter cup right now.

Coulda Woulda Shoulda

Sometime in my childhood, I learned that these are words that should simply be absent from your vocabulary. However, during the last few years, I seem to have lost the ability to have faith and simply jump without a net. Stability and normalcy became my new security blankets, and I swept my desire for the unknown underneath a rug. I wouldn't describe myself as unhappy, but muted. As my color spectrum dulled, a part of me became complacent about the apparent trajectory of my life. Sometime in the last year, this all changed. I have no exact explanation, and it is probably a combination of factors: no school, new work, and changing relationships. Yet at some point during this year, I became completely free to chase after the life I have always wanted to live. Suddenly I am addicted to the taste of pure, unadulterated newness that life offers.

In the weeks before my departure for Zambia, I was blessed with an amazing sense of calm (mixed with bursts of anxiety and paralyzing panic, mind you). Despite the moments of fear, I sensed that God was placing me exactly where I belonged. Consciously I knew that if God was with me, what or who was there to fear? Subconsciously, my painfully human heart could and did find plenty to worry about. One way I have found to deal with my unbearably high level of anxiety is to keep reassuring quotes around me. One day while wandering around in Schulers...how I miss you...I found a little magnet with a powerful message:

"Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed
in the things you did not do than the ones you did.
So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor.
Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

Needless to say, this little magnet received a coveted spot in my suitcase and is now proudly placed on my fridge. Whether I am in Michigan or Zambia, sometimes I just need a little reminder to take full advantage of every moment. Life is too short to think, "Coulda Woulda Shoulda."