Dear Grandma,

Dear Grandma,
I was informed of Grandpa's death a few days ago. I feel the best way for me to deal with the situation is to write you this letter. I have been trying to write more, but find that I am only inspired to do so when I am not feeling up to par, the writing being my counselor. Upon hearing the news I must admit I was not shocked, but rather you, my dad, and Uncle Terry were the first things to pop into my mind. I was riding my bike to Rfunsa, a nearby village, to teach some Math when Eric called me with the news. He told me how my Dad had got to have a nice conversation with Grandpa just the day before. This above all things was what brought tears to my eyes. Imagining that conversation I can only think of how pure and how rich life was at that moment. It's unfortunate, or maybe fortunate, that it takes death or near death experiences to achieve those moments. I believe my tears were not of sadness, but of gratitude that such moments can and do exist.
Thinking back on all the memories I have of Grandpa, I feel very blessed to have so many. I know that some people live with or near their Grandparents, some don't have any at all, but I was given the situation that when I visited you and Grandpa, it was always an event, and a spectacular one for that matter. I remember going fishing, even though it wasn't fishing season, with Grandpa and my Dad up in Canada on "the boat." I might as well had been on a cruise line because the food, entertainment, and hospitality was impeccable. Grandpa had all his stories of wrecking or almost wrecking the boat and I had enough food for a small army. Grandpa made me feel like I was the most talented and important person on the earth. I couldn't help but smile, giggle, and eat the entire trip.
Of course there is the famous peanut butter and jelly sandwich story. This is still of no memory to me, but Grandpa's retelling of the story will forever live on. I ate half of my sandwich and was probably full so I left it on your table and went to play. Grandpa asked if I was done eating and I said yes. What I should have said was that yes I was done but don't eat my sandwich because when I came back and found it gone I apparently threw the biggest fit. Grandpa's version of this story, not the story itself, is what makes it so great, his laughing as he told it.
I think of all things I will remember Grandpa for his love of children. Being here in Zambia, there is a lot of emphasis put on sustainability. Will our efforts last after we have left? When broken down, I think if you've made a child smile and feel good about him or herself, that's about as sustainable as you can get. This is what I saw Grandpa do best. This is what I will try to carry on. As you know, Grandpa could make children smile, especially the little ones, and they could make him smile. Even when his memory had begun to slip you knew that he wouldn't forget that you were to smile at a child. It's as though it was embedded in his DNA, memory not necessary. So, as I sit here in the middle of nowhere wondering sometimes whether I am wasting my time. I know that because Grandpa made me feel special and because he made me smile, I am able to smile that much easier today. And if he was able to do that for me, I know I should try and do that for others knowing that a smile never fades but merely reappears further down the road. There is no waste of time in that effort.
Now I know that you know all of what I have told you in a much deeper context, something in which I am envious of. I also know there was a lot I didn't know. When I think of this, I think of what Ann told my Dad one day. She said that he may not always be a nice man, but he is always a good man. I know my Dad took this to heart. While I think that Grandpa was always nice, I know that he was a Rogers which means that people may not have always seen the niceness, but I think that those that knew him always saw the goodness.
You, Grandma, somehow managed to remain both nice and good, even in the midst of Grandpa being a pain in the butt. As we learned in Tuesdays With Morrie, it is better to tell you this now rather than 50 years from now when you may not be around. Your grace and sweet disposition gives everyone a sense of peace and balance. Because of this, I know Grandpa was a better person. I remember Grandpa driving you and I in the middle of New York City after watching a taping of Spin City. We were trying to leave the city and managed to drive in one direction for an hour only to find ourselves back at the hotel where we started. Grandpa was telling me his dream of buying an old beat up car and going on a rampage through NYC hitting anything that did or did not get in his way. You were saying that it was a beautiful day and that it was great for me to see more of the city. I think I concluded that I would like tour NYC in an old beat up car, ramming anything in the way, a wonderful combination.
We all have a place in this world. I strongly believe that my place is no more or less important than the man begging for change on the street corner. We are derivatives of our parents, and our parents of their parents, and so forth. I wrote this letter on November 14th but concluding it today, the day of Thanksgiving, I am thankful that my Dad had Grandpa as a father and you, Grandma, as a mother.
I love you,
Grant
p.s. Can someone print this and give it to Grandma? Thanks.

Ironic? Maybe something more?

The creek which is dry now still still has some standing water in one puddle of an area, the area we just so happen to walk by many times a day. There is a log to walk across when the water is full and/or running. I'm not sure if it runs but I will soon find out. The log has been pushed aside and you can walk through the dip in the earth from one side to the other on hard, dry dirt. There is still a large puddle or smal pond a foot or two deep bordering the walking dip path. As it may be a stream, there is a step on each side of the dip to go down and then back up when walking. I ride my bike my bike everywhere and have become accustomed to getting off my bike and carrying it on the log and then resuming riding. The same held true when the log was pushed aside, as the steps into and out of the dry creek bed were a bit much for a casual stroll. I did however venture oned day through the bed without getting off the bike, feeling a bit tired to wheip my leg over the rear of the bike to get off. With a bit of a thud ont he way down and a little peel of the tire on dirt on the way up, I made it through without much fuss. That of course was the easy direction of travel, as the lip into the stream on the way down was sharp, but on a bike is just a thump. The lip on the way up is more gradual and therefore not much of a feat for a mountain biker. So, again, feeling lazy or moreso efficient, I thought I'd try to conquer the feat going in the other direction. I was riding back from teaching in Rfunsa, so that meant I had my teaching clothes on, whcih is surprisingly more casual than my Zambian counterparts, a polo, and dress slacks, and dress shoes. I had my book bag nicely placed in a basket I attached to the back of my bike rack, a little contraption I am quite proud to have made as now I don't have to wear the bag and show up to class with a sweaty back and bag. So, I hit the down slope with no problem, but knew I was gonna need some good momentum and a good lift on the handle bars to get up the other side. I did not get what I needed, but hey, no big deal, step off to the left, grab the bike, and walk up the lip. Not quite. I somehow did not process the the whole shift the weight to the left thing in time and ended up witha weight shift to the right, only to the right sat the pond. The step to the right was not at the ground level as the step to the left was, so I didn't get the luxury of stepping into the water and then out saying "darn, my shoe is wet." No, we are talking full body submersion. The mud in my pants and shirt was so bad that my Zambian family had to help me wash them as my hand washing abilities have not improved over time. My house is a few hundred meters from this puddleso I was still dripping mud and water when I arrived. All the kids were relaxing and I was glad to see a smile appear rather than a look of concern when I walked up to them because this all deserved a genuine stomach intitiated laugh. And that we did. Only the older ones understood my english, as I have not learned the Chinyanja words for crashing a bike into a pond yet, but the younger ones were able to comprehend with all the body language. The moral of the story however goes much deeper than pond. My sister, Colleen, sent me a text the next day to tell me there was a big storm and that she and her kids went puddle jumping after it passed. It wasn't till a few days later it dawned on me that we were all puddle jumping on the same day. Let me mind you there is only one puddle in Zambia that I know of. Ironic? Maybe something more?

One picture is of a future co-teacher in his hotel room at a co-teaching workshop. He asked me to take a picture of him in his room as he has never stayed in a hotel nonetheless a room with electricity, so in we went, off his shoes came, and on to the bed he jumped. I thought the pose was worthy of a posting. The other picture is of us upon completion of the work shop. We will be teaching Grade 8 and 9 maths (they say maths here) together starting in January at Chimusanya Basic.

Third term- 2010

Well, I am well underway into the third and final term of the school year. My assignment is to co-teach and that I was with the grade 8 and 9 math teacher at Rfunsa Basic, Mr. Mulenga, until he got shipped off to another school. So, I have had the privilege of teaching my own grade 8 and 9 math class for the last few weeks and have 2 or 3 more weeks to go until they take their exams. Co-teaching was fun, but having the class to myself is a blast and I am enjoying it while I can. The grade 9's take an exam to see if they qualify for high school, so I have backed out of lesson mode and am in review mode to prepare them. Review mode I am finding is actually re-teach mode. Who knows if I will be able to improve their scores, although I must admit I could knock out their test with flying colors. I forgot how good at math I was. It's a bit of a curse because multiplying by the inverse seems logical to me, but to have it make sense to them is another story. Regardless, it is easy to see that the math is not why I am in the classroom but rather to show them that you don't have to hit to punish a child for talking and you can praise an effort, even it is incorrect. Speaking of praise, the kids like to do claps for each other when they answer questions correctly (the younger grades actually), so I took the liberty of introducing my grade 8 and 9's to the Arsenio Hall Show clap, which if you don't know is woofing like a dog while pumping your fist in the air. They of course adapted it quickly, but the best part was hearing it in a class I wasn't teaching and also having the head teacher ask me the other day, "what is this dog barking the kids are doing in class?"

The roof to my hut needed replacing, and aside from the month it took to get bamboo and grass, it took another surprisingly 11 days to do the labor. My fellow volunteer neighbor (40 miles away) said she had it done in a day. Not sure what's up with my village, but I still couldn't help but relive the Shawshank Redemption movie moment where the prisoners are drinkin suds as they tar the prison roof. Now maybe we are prisoners of a system, prisoners of poverty, or prisoners of nothing, but the picture above shows us drinkin suds when the roof was finally done. "We sat and drank with the sun on our shoulders and felt like free men. Hell, we could have been tarring the roof of one of our own houses. We were the lords of all creation. As for Andy - he spent that break hunkered in the shade, a strange little smile on his face, watching us drink his beer." Note- we were drinking actual suds. Real beer is like champagne here, as they drink Chibuku which is made from maize, has no carbonation, and costs a quarter.

The other pictures are of the teacher's at Chimusanya Basic on World Teacher's Day BBQ'n some chicken, and the kids are some neighbors JB or Jebby (not sure which) and his sister Kausine.

Village Re-entry

Again, a blog short-cut.. a journal entry the other day.

It is August 31st, 2010. I have just returned to Chimusanya from a three week venture into Lusaka and Malawi. I was in Lusaka for a two week In Service Training and then "Mu U" (those who lived in Mwampikanya during training) ventured to Nkhata Bay on Lake Malawi in Malawi (picture above from the balcony of my room. 8 bucks a night!) for 6 days. There is a ton to recall but for now I want to focus on the re-entry into the village life and the feelings associated with it. There are some long lost feelings of home sickness. I have opened a care package mailed three months ago and have six wonderful pictures of American knuckleheads to look at. I hesitated opening the package upon first arriving to my hut becuase I was already missing my american interaction. I did not want to add to the emotion. I, out of the blue, said the fell with it and opened it. I haven't stopped smiling at the pics. Jake has the greatest grin/ laugh in one of them that made me laugh out loud. There was, after all, no need to hesitate. The pics made me feel in touch again. My mom called this morning worried cause I haven't been in cell service (no service in Malawi). I thought it was known I was going unavailable for a week, but regardless I felt bad because as independent as being in Africa can seem, it is the love, longing for, and respect I have for my family that keeps me going, and I don't want them to feel that they are not part of this and a part of me. Just as important or significant at least, I want them to know I am a part of them, for when you find yourself alone in a village you like to know that you belong somewhere. So, I find myself alone yet amongst my Zambian family. The language barrier is still there and may always be. I sit in the middle of them to show either I care or am not scared. In my house I would have a television as my friend. Here I have a pen or a book. I try to break from them, but feel as there is too little to say... a reocurring theme anywhere, not just Zambia.

Lunch has just been served and I find myself quickly back in the mix. Mambwe (the boy in the picture above. He has no idea what DORK means) has asked me for help with his math which was a good break from the solitude. The sun is setting in the clouds giving one of those Bible phrase post card pictures and I look for its comfort and connection. I still marvel at its sight, but tonight its full effect is not there. The peace and purpose I question is in question, yet I think as though it is now that when the sunset carries me, the footprints are just a little deeper in the sand. Becca and Chiza (the two knuckle heads here) are singing and that instantly makes me giggle. I look forward to a restful slumber and hope the mice don't wake me. I look forward to sleeping in. I look forward to exchanging greetings with my village friends tomorrow. They make me feel so welcome and important and I hope I can return the favor. My ankle may be broken so there is no futbol for a while which does not help the situation. Vuka is pulling a car made of empty milk cartons by a string, about as primitive a toy as you can get, yet still so relevant. That shouldn't make sense. That shouldn't entertain, but in this time of volatility it makes more sense to me than it may ever will. What is there not to make sense of? The man is in his element. What is my element? Do I have one? My Amai (village mother) has told me she will find me tomorrow. She is off to yet another funeral. The sun rises, and the sun sets. We pull cars by strings. We try not to feel bad. Sometimes we do.

The Fair

Community entry has ended which means I am now free to leave my site and travel within the standards of Peace Corps. The school term has ended as well (three months on, one month off). With school out and our entry period complete, Peace Corps calls all the new volunteers in for an In-Service Training. It's a two week workshop where we all share our experiences, challenges, successes, and new techniques for teaching and sustainable development within our communities. We have just completed the workshop and it was a long two weeks. Some topics covered were dealing with corporal punishment, school gardening, and learner centered classroom techniques. We had a counterpart from our villages come in and do a Project Design and Management workshop for two days as well. Almost everyone brought a fellow teacher to the workshop. I brought a futbol teammate. He and I would like to start a sports club so I felt this was a good opportunity to get a plan together. We learned some good strategies, but we'll see what happens in the village. All in all, it was a fun getting to see everyone and hear all the crazy stories that we all could relate to.

Right before the training, some teachers in my village were taking their kids to the Agriculture show in Lusaka, so I tagged along and brought the two first grade girls I live with. The two girls have never been out of the village, nonetheless seen electricity or city before. They were quite like a deer in head lights, yet they took the experience in stride. I was rather impressed. They took to the jumping castle like pros and got cotton candy all over their face like they're supposed to. I can only imagine what they were thinking as they looked around. The Agro show was very similar to a county or state fair with lots of entertainment. There is a picture of the crew above.

There is a picture of some of the grade 7 class getting ready to take a mock exam. There is also a picture of Rachel, the granddaughter of one of the ladies I live with.

Teachin has started

What has happened lately? I have moved away from my observation period in the classrooms and have started teaching in the classrooms as a co-teacher. I have found this to be quite enjoyable because after observing for so long and remaining silent it is quite enjoyable to speak to the students. The observation period was effective and essential because had I just jumped into teaching I would be out of breath trying to speak my mind. Rather, I have been able to priortize what I believe to be some important aspects of teaching here and have chosen to start with these areas in the schools. One issue I am engaging in is getting the teachers to show up and another is being positive (and by being positive I mean not hitting the students). My main objective is to implement learner centered methodologies into the classroom, and while this will be my focus, there are some building blocks that need to be laid as well. The students and teachers currently view being wrong as a failure as opposed to being apart of the learning process. Therefore, classroom participation is minimal and held to a very few kids. I am trying to be overly positive and encouraging in the classroom to get the students comfortable with me and eachother to increase the participation. It's a slow process that I think is working, however we'll hopefully see the differences with time.

I visited our clinic to help pass out Anti-Retro Virals (ARVs help prolong life) to people living with HIV. This, like most of the things I do here, I just sort of fell upon one day, and before you know it, I was trying to give my strongest, hardest, most positive and healing thoughts to a dozen or so of 1 to 5 year olds. Granted, there were mainly adults and my wishes went out to them, but I was not expecting to see little children. Some kids had looks of discontentment that belonged to people ten times their age.

The job here is tough. They did say that this is "the toughest job you'll ever love" but I like to think of it as "the toughest job you'll sometimes like". I am learning new things though. The situations seem hopeless at times, however, the resilience in the children inspire me unexpectedly everyday. They laugh, dance, sing, and play all in the face of hunger, coldness (it's winter here now), sickness, and abuse. When I witness this first hand, I can't help but think how crazy of a world this is, how crazy it is that I am here, but most importantly how crazy it would be if I were anywhere else.

The pictures are of a district track meet (that's the high jump you're seeing, and I got to sleep next to 12 teachers, a goat, and 3 chickens in a classroom for 3 nights for this event), and the other is of Chimusanya and Luangwa High School Futbol Teams (I am in the back row 2nd from the right).

Letter

My family is meeting for a reuinion in Colorado this weekend and I have written them a letter. So, to save me some time, I have copied the letter I have written below. I mention family (it's a family reunion), however I consider my friends part of my family as well. If you're not sure you're my friend, go ahead and assume you are until told otherwise. The pics here are my futbol (soccer) team headin to a game and the knuckle heads I live with or near huntin' for mice aka dinner.

Helloooo everyone. Thank you for coming. I'm glad you all were able to make it on such short notice and are now wondering why I have called you here today. As you can see, I am unable to attend due to some unforeseen circumstances, but have sent my worthy counterpart instead to speak on my behalf. Please listen closely. First and foremost, I miss you and love you all. The back pack that I carry everywhere says Fort Collins, Colorado on it (thank you Alpine Arts) so I am constantly reminded of family and the wonderful times we have had together. For example, there was... willing it to snow one clear night so school was cancelled the next day, playing golf with Uncle Tony, playing cowboys and indians in the mud during a downpour, taking batting practice at the Field of Dreams, whitewater rafting the Colorado River, and Whirly Ball... need I say more. Being so far removed from these places and times have given me a much deeper appreciation for these memories and I find it a very fulfilling past time just trying to think of them. I am very fortunate to have so many wonderful thoughts and I have my family to thank for that. The other night a breeze came into hut, through my mosquito net, and across my face. I was instantly taken to a room on the second story of a house on a corner in Iowa. In that room I was lying on a well used bed, to say the least, and I was tucked into some heavy quilts with just my face exposed. The bedroom window was open and the window by the staircase was open allowing a cool breeze after a warm summer day to pass over my face. Maybe that breeze started there and has just found its way here to find me again. Maybe not. Regardless, the breeze carried with it a reminder that we are energy and are always connected. Sometimes it is something we can't see that reminds us of that. So, in light of being reminded, let me remind you of some important lessons you may have forgotten. They are as follows:
1. The limbs of a Papaya tree are much weaker than they look.
2. You can fall out of a Papaya tree and still live to tell the dangers of fetching papaya.
3. When there are no mirrors, you always look good.
4. Electricity and running water are not overrated.
5. Peanuts taste better when you dig them up yourself.
6. You don't eat as many peanuts when you dig them up yourself.
7. Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. This way you're a mile away when you criticize them, and you have their shoes.
and finally and most importantly
8. There is no fairy godmother that appears when you pick up field mice and bop them on the head.

In conclusion, may these lessons remind us of how we are always together. We are one. We are one team. We are Jodi's team. Utanti Village in the town of Chimusanya in the district of Chongwe in the province of Lusaka in the country of Zambia in the continent of Africa on the planet Earth is on your team. We feel your pain. We hear your laughter.
I love you all.

Grant

Community Entry

A lot has happened since I last wrote. It is 21:30 here and that is an hour and a half past my bed time, so this will be brief. First off, on April 23rd I finished training and became an official volunteer. We had a nice ceremony at the Ambassador's residence (fyi-there is no ambassador to Zambia currently) with real coffee and everything. We then left the next morning for our sites and the "real world", or as they say here "Zambia, the real Africa." We are in a community entry period for 3 months which pretty much just means we are not supposed to travel and stay close to our villages. We our to observe as much as possible and then at the end of June I will begin co-teaching in the classrooms. After a few weeks of observing the schools, I am excited to start working with the teachers and students, but needless to say, the education system here is "different." First off, there are 1,100 students enrolled at my nearest school and we had almost 100 students show up the first day of school (second term now), which is good and bad considering we have 8 classrooms for grades 1 through 9. School starts at 0700 and so far I have been the only one at the school believe it or not at or before 0700 everyday. The teachers favorite conversation, however, is how the students are always late. The teachers like to chase with sticks in their hand the children around the school grounds telling them to pick up garbage and/or sweep the dirt off the dirt (I haven't figured out that one yet). I have begun picking up garbage with the kids and the teachers look confused. Everyone here is wonderful though and I just hope they are receptive to my suggestions when I begin talking and no longer observing. They all mean well (I think) and have their ways, and I hope I can understand their ways just as I want them to understand mine. I haven't said much because there is still so much to perceive and learn. I have ventured to the futbol pitch in the evenings and began playing some pick up games with the community. They asked me to join in on a venture to a nearby community for a "friendly" game. Sure, why not. We arrived on a Sunday after a lively truck ride, and then uniforms came out of nowhere and they said, "Grant, 7," which I found out shortly after means play right-wing. People came out of nowhere right before the game and we had an actual crowd and I must admit I became nervous. I was clearly out of shape, but did not embarass myself at least. We have a big match vs Luangwa on June 6 so we are training hard for the next couple of weeks. I am in pretty darn good shape between the bike riding and soccer playing. At the end of the day I am ready for some Nsima (which is a good thing cause we eat Nsima for lunch and dinner... everyday) and sometimes I am so hungry I endulge in the local delicasy here, mbewa... mice. When in Rome. I got some other good pics but don't have time to upload them but will be around a computer in another week or so. The one pic is of Vuka holding none other than dinner. Rebecca and Chiza are in the other pic. They are hauling maize that we just picked in the field to the storage containers that we just built by our huts.

TTFN

Don't call it a comeback

Welp, the current score is Africa one, stomach zero, but the ball game has only begun and there is plenty of time for a comeback. I've gone a full two weeks without any problems so I'm on the offensive. We are still in training mode... 6 days a week of Nyanja language and Zambian education. My official home will be in Chimusanya in the Chongwe district. I visited there a few weeks ago for 5 days and stayed in my future home. I live in a compound (4 other huts besides mine) with 3 ladies who are in there 50s, about 7 girls who are between 6 and 14, and 6 month old boy Daniel. Occasionally there are some other males who live there too, but I have not seen much of them. The good news is I think they expect me to eat dinner with them every night so that saves me some time and embarrassment of trying to cook on an mbala (brazier (Zambian charcoal stove)). I visited one of my schools that I will be co-teaching in... Chimusanya Basic. Apparently there are going to be some challenges. Such is life. Classes are a little larger hear. I counted 77 in one of them. Writing on the chalk board to fifth graders can be counter-productive when upto half of them can't read what your writing. They are good at copying what's on the board however. They speak Nyanga in school, which is great cause that's what I'm learning. The speak Soli in the community which is not great cause I am learning Nyanja. Regardless, my community looks phenomenal and I see myself fitting in one way or another.

Every Thursday we take half a day and learn about medical issues we may personally encounter while here in Africa. Each language group is assigned a topic and it just so happened that my language group got to present on "bugs to avoid" on none other day than April Fool's Day. I of course had to come up with one extra bug with some latin name, less than a millimeter wide that just so happened to live in short and long grass (anywhere in Zambia), comes out at the end of rainy season (now), symptoms of stomach ache or head ache (pretty much feel one of those at all times), symptoms lead to blindness and paralysis unless a pill (I gave it a fancy medical name) is taken within 12 hours of the symptoms. By the time I got to the word paralysis in my presentation I was laughing so hard cause hands started to raise for questions and people were saying "this isn't funny" in response to my laughing. Needless to say I couldn't take it any longer and belted out an "April Fools!" and ended up gettting a wonderful ovation from the crowd.

Oh the simple things in life.

I've got two more weeks of training then it's off to the real world where we will no longer have the comforts of our Mizungu (white) friends.

The pictures above are of me in front of my nyumba (house) that I will be living in the next two years. As you can see, it has vaulted ceilings and a wrap around porch, two things I've always admired. What you can also see is the clothes washer and dryer, the dishwasher, and the live in maid that cooks as well. Electricity and running water are overrated when you got those at your beckoning call. I on the other hand need a mirror to see these things. The girl you see is Chiza. She is 7 and is in her school gown. She and her cousin Rebecca are both in the first grade and are like two peas in a pod. I can't wait to learn Soli, or Nyanja, or whatever they are speaking.

That's all she wrote for now.

One love,

G

Training

Welp, I am about 2 weeks in and it feels like an eternity. I am in the process of our 9 week training program. We started with a bang visiting a current volunteer at their site. We split into groups of four. My group went to the Southern Province. We drove on a highway for three hours and then drove on some dirt roads into the "middle of Africa" for about an hour. No matter how far we drove into the "bush," there were still people. I was amazed. We passed tons of huts and after some lefts and rights we stopped and out of a hut popped a current volunteer. We said hi, were introduced to her neighbors/family, and then they kindly invited us to witness the slaughtering of a goat that we ate later that evening. Welcome to Zambia. We stayed there from Sunday to Wednesday. When we all returned we were like deer in headlights. What have we got ourselves into? The next day, we shipped out to our training site for the next eight weeks. We are currently outside Lusaka about an hour and our living with host families during this process. I have my own hut the size of a small bedroom. There is no running water or electricity, but you get used to that surprisingly quickly. You wake up when it is light and go to bed when it is dark. During training, we practice language for about four hours a day. My language is Nyanja which means I will be eventually living in the Eastern Province near the Big Game National Parks (lions, tigers, etc.) The other half of the day we do technical training which in my case is learning about the education system in Zambia and learning how to teach in Zambia. I will be coteaching with a number of teachers in my district and we are wanted to spread the knowledge of child centered learning. After training, I usually go home and play a game of soccer (with a ball made of plastic bags) with the village boys, shower (throw water from a bucket on me), practice language with my host family, eat dinner (with your hands here!), then hit the sack (I think I got a mouse who sleeps under my bed). I got some good pics, but technology here is not the quickest yet, so I will find a way to add some more later. This is all I had time for. The two little ones you see are Tina (in red) and Patience (in Yellow). Tina is the daughter of my host mom and Patience is her cousin. The other picture is of the current volunteer's neighbor. A lot more to tell but I gotta jet. Doesn't look like I'll get to update this often, but I guess I will when I can.

Much love,

Grant