One Last Week

Dearest Friends and Family,

At long last I return to you and with regret to have not written sooner. In the extended meantime my weeks were overstuffed like a lumpy pillow, padded with clinic visits, project trainings, over four days in Ndola, (two of which kept me until well after dark, and found me dozing along my taxi journeys home), two visits to Kitwe’s ramshackle “curio” market, sleepovers with the Ndola intern, one movie and homemade popcorn night and a “last supper” feast of creamy Dhal Mazharani with buttery, garlic Naan. Consistent with most of this trip, if perhaps even competing to exceed an already chaotic precedent, these last two weeks were marked by ever-present tragedy (two more maternal mortalities and a stillbirth I personally witnessed), new and extraordinary companionship (the friendships I’ve forged with both the Copperbelt coordinator and the new Ndola intern have honestly fed my soul), utter exhaustion and the looming reality of a bittersweet farewell.  It is therefore with genuine and possibly unanticipated sadness that I prepare to leave this place. These are some of the recent moments I will forever cherish:

·      About one week ago, at a local clinic, I witnessed my first stillbirth. The newborn was delivered to a woman who, in her fourth pregnancy, did not even realize she was with child until it was tragically too late. The infant died before ever leaving the womb and was therefore born in true stillness. In the wake of its birth the woman began to bleed and soon all attention turned from the quiet, lifeless child to its restless, hemorrhaging mother. Together with the nurse and coordinator I helped to hang a line of normal saline, attempt delivery of the woman’s retained placenta (which was done to no avail and ultimately gave cause to call an ambulance for hospital transfer), take a blood sample for a hemoglobin reading and eventually place the study’s anti-shock garment. Remarkably the woman showed almost immediate signs of resuscitation when we fitted her into this garment and I realized, if rather late in the process, the sincerely life-saving quality of this resource and research. Over the next few days I tried to digest this event. In reflection I have experienced unexpected peace and revelation. While the devastation of this story is not lost on me, I must also admit and account the unique calm permeating every fragile tuck and curve of that baby’s relaxed body. Despite its presence in our cold, external air, I couldn’t help but feel I was looking at the expression of a child still cradled in the protection of the womb. I have come to treasure this experience as a sort of secret insight into the perfect shelter afforded a baby swaddled in the warmth of its mother’s phenomenally formed body. This is one of many beautiful instances I have realized through pain.

·      On a diametrically different note, I also developed rich and dear relationships in recent weeks. Despite limited time together my common experience with the two women who finally joined me on this journey has formed a meaningful bond between us. Often I’ve contemplated the overarching reason for this trip, and I have at least learned there is more than one single greater purpose. All of those terrifically terrible first days served to create in me an authentic empathy for feelings of isolation, disorientation, cultural fatigue and misinterpretation. As these women have given me the gift of company and community, so have I offered heartfelt understanding.

·      One last moment was my happy opportunity to host a movie night in my humble bedroom. The three of us girls became giddy over stovetop popcorn tossed with sea salt, brewer’s yeast and the local classic, garlic chili sauce. We also licked butter-crumbed fingers while munching toasted cheese sandwiches, sipped ginger ale and indulged in the darkest chocolate we could find. On this very night I could taste home. And it was delicious!

Without further ado I complete this post. Today marks the beginning of my last week (or rather, my last three days) in Zambia and also the near end of this blog. It is my goal to send a quick account of return travels sometime shortly after my homecoming. For Stig and my parental welcoming committee will surely elicit a few tears at the international arrivals terminal, and I know you all need to hear the details of this story’s blissful end. So stick with me for one more week…

Until we are together again,

Jess

Zambian Skies in Color

Stig in the foreground; a compliment to the "Asian Invasion" accompanying us on our cruise.

The sunset cruise

A contemplative fellow

The Mama

See Youtube - Double Rainbow

Vic Falls in the shadow of, "The Fog that Thunders."

We crossed this bridge in the midst of raining river spray.

...sopping wet after crossing that bridge

Our humble "Hippo"A-frame bathed in sunlight.

Zambian skies...didn't I tell you?

Zambian Skies in Black & White

Hi,

Have I told you about Zambian skies? I was trying to describe them to a cab driver, but he couldn’t grasp the concept that skies in Zambia could be different from those in America. It’s the same moon; the same sun. So, different skies? I insisted, “Yes.” Here your heavenward gaze is met with an unparalleled clarity of royal blue, which fades into robin’s egg in ombré diffused by spun cotton clouds hovering at the horizon. Perhaps the skies are distinct because their function is a miraculous, if incongruent freedom from the dust and brokenness of the landscape. Nonetheless there is certain unexpected seamlessness between an unkempt, rural reality as it meets a ceiling of majestic grandeur. The skies in Livingstone did not fail us. Rather, they ushered us into the dreamlike state of our idyllic holiday. We arose each morning into thick beams of streaming sunlight, marveled at picturesque perfection over raging falls, romanced in the fuchsia twilight of streaked, shadowy sunsets and rested beneath a chitenge of starry indigo. This past week afforded the greatest blessing of calm. Livingstone offered truly pleasant touristy charm, with foreign-inspired eateries from the anti-Atkins delight of Olga’s Italian Corner to “Taco Tuesdays” at Fezbar, all the while maintaining balance in the characteristic Zambian flare of colorful curios and a contented community. We spent our days lounging on patterned pillows piled together and inset in the floor of the common area of our hostel. In the company of many happy hippy travelers, we slurped “funky monkey” smoothies (fresh banana, chocolate, peanut butter and coconut milk), shuttled to Victoria Falls and boarded a sunset cruise along the bush banks of the Zambezi River. One afternoon, while walking through the grounds of the affluent Royal Livingstone Hotel, we happened upon a family of giraffes, including one very pregnant mother, a “toddler” giraffe and their zebra entourage. Another path along the falls shared the resting place of a forlorn monkey who remained seated even as we approached, photographed and eventually passed him. He was clearly lost in deep thought. Needless to say, the time was extremely well spent. Together we swallowed three books in as many breaths, we watched six movies (one for every night of our trip), we emerged sopping and victorious from the trail of one of the world’s roaring wonders and we realized the gift our partnership, relishing the glories of each moment made all the better for their shared recognition.

Hopefully there is enough sap dripping from this account to last all of us through the next two weeks and three days. It was a harsh reality to re-enter Kitwe yesterday afternoon without my husband. It was as sad to fall asleep last night, unable to find a snug fit into my larger “spoon.” But clearly I am still reeling, and the recollection of this past week through these words to you has been an exquisite indulgence. As there has always been, surely there will be some yet discovered purpose for my final days here. We will all learn in time as these next days unfold and with them that plan.

Until next week and with love,

Jess

...photos at last

gift bags for days

(L to R) Auntie Sue, Hope, Auntie Kay & Jess

Our Livingstone travel clothes.

rainbow

Jess and the Auntie Sue crew.

Of course they also wanted a picture with their "son-in-law." Oh and that's a Hannah Montana backpack Hope is grinning about. Thanks, Uncle Stig (and Amazon)!

J & S

Hi Friends,

Taking care not to disappoint, “crazy Kitwe,” as I’ve come to affectionately call it, welcomed my husband with a barrage of classic chaos. From “third-world” travel to rain-induced power loss, medical tragedy (in the form of two more maternal mortalities this past week) to heartwarming displays of gratitude, Stig’s first week was a baptism by fire. I’ve invited him to co-author this week’s blog, so in his own words here are a few details.

“Most of my days for the past week have involved “shadowing” Jess and following her work routine from day to day. On Monday I visited all the wards and met all of the nurses and midwives Jess works with. Not surprisingly she told everyone I was coming, so I was met with very warm handshakes and even hugs. During these visits I had a chance to see each ward and learn how the hospital is run and put together. Having some medical experience in the U.S., this was an eye opening perspective to say the least. I can see why so many things have been difficult and frustrating for Jess and her work in the study.”

That last bit seems to be Stig’s kind way of saying our hospital is rather a mess, which was starkly exhibited this week by the entirely preventable death of patient admitted after 24 hours of at-home bleeding from an incomplete abortion. It was thoroughly depressing when Stig and I arrived on the GYN ward Monday afternoon to learn of the story of the poor woman who spent nine ours at the hospital without a single recorded blood pressure measurement, or pulse reading. Furthermore her hypovolemic shock was not treated with a blood transfusion, a manual vacuum aspiration (a procedure frequently performed to remove retained products in the case of miscarriage/abortion), or really any other treatment to speak of. She collapsed in her hospital bed, which provided not even enough support for effective resuscitation, and she died soon after. Admittedly this was one of the hospital’s truly low points. Nonetheless, and marked by that distinct interplay of contrasts I have witnessed throughout this journey, it was only one side of the Zambian coin. Stig and I also witnessed great hospitality this past week and deeply genuine appreciation from a culture of people who do care.

One of the things that I have been most excited about for this trip is the fact that I brought about 20 recyclable Whole Foods bags, each of which read “Peace on Earth,” to distribute to the people who have loved and welcomed Jess. The bags included donated items from a variety of people and companies in the States. They were filled with perfume samples, Starbucks Via coffee packets, hand sanitizer, tea bags, chapstick, dish detergent, peanut M&M’s, Famous Amos cookies, Bvlgari soap rounds and more. There were even 15 white baseball caps from Blue Shield, which just so happened to perfectly match with the starched and pleated white nursing uniforms. As we handed out bag after bag everyone was extremely excited and thankful. One nurse even called Jess the evening after she received her gift and was so overcome with excitement and gratitude that she said she had both cried and jumped up-and-down as she went through her bag. Another male midwife said that Zambian’s don’t give each other gifts very often, and he had not received anything in a long time. That being said, he was extremely appreciative of this offering.

Stig is so right. Not since the Zambian championship at the African Cup of Nations have I seen such delight. One of my favorite clinic coordinators texted me a few hours after we gave her a bag; she wrote, “Jesse, I want to thank you so much for the gifts given. I am really humbled.”

Among the more dramatic reactions to our gifts, Auntie Sue, Uncle Eddie, Auntie Kay and Hope jumped and shrieked with joy. Auntie Kay even went into a fit of repeating, “God bless you” and “Praise Jesus!” Furthermore their thanks extended beyond this celebration. My extended Zambian family reciprocated those small presents with unanticipated generosity. As Stig tells it…

Just a few minutes after we gave their gift bags Uncle Eddie and Auntie Sue said they were going to throw us a braai (BBQ). So on Wednesday night Jess and I turned chicken and sausage over a well-flavored grill and indulged in an embarrassingly elaborate buffet of everything from homemade samosas and egg rolls to fresh mango, potato salad and even a bowl of toasted caterpillars (well, Jess and I didn’t actually sample that Zambian “treat”). During that meal and at various other times, Uncle Eddie fondly referred to Jess and to me as his “children,” and said that we are always welcome to come and visit our Zambian “parents.” They even surprised us both with our very own traditional Zambian costumes, which they had hand-tailored in chitenge material. I was completely blown away by not only their generosity and thoughtfulness, but also by the fact that without any measurements they were nearly spot-on with both our sizes.

Needless to say, it wasn’t a dull week. A few other experiences included:

·      Two power-outages, one of which occurred just before we were to grill our cheese sandwiches.

·      Gelato in Ndola.

·      Travel by all possible means of transport from disoriented taxi to dilapidated minibus to ever bouncing “tour bus,” (into the window of which one very unfortunate bird met its shocking end). Stig was particularly taken aback by the number of “reclaimed” vehicles from his home country, which he duly noted…

I have been completely surprised by the number of cars that are obviously transplanted from Japan. They still have telltale stickers and other features that are found on cars only there. It is something I was not expecting and feels a little surreal to see so many Japanese products in Africa.

Now and at last we’ve reached the calm at the storm’s end. I’ll let Stig conclude.

I am glad to report we finally made it to Livingstone, and I am looking forward to spending some restful time in the home of Victoria Falls, one of the seven natural wonders of the world. There will be many things to keep us occupied including hiking, swimming, safari and exploration, but I think we are mainly excited to spend some down time together. Jess has worked pretty much non-stop since she got here, so this will be a great holiday. And fret not, because I am sure in another week’s time there will be plenty more stories to tell.

Sending our love,

Jess & Stig

He made it...

Downloading pics is a belabored process, which Stig has agreed to attempt this week while I'm at work. So, you can actually expect more shots to come in the near future. In the meantime, together at last!

Speed Humps

Hello All,

This has been a week of many great and unprecedented moments. A number of these I’ve spent in the reading of kind and inspiring words from so many of you. I am truly honored to be embraced by such an extensive community of fantastically supportive friends and family. This past week you have showered me with extra love, and I’m realizing many of you have been anticipating Stig’s arrival with nearly as much excitement as I have felt. So without further ado, by far the most thrilling experience of this past week, and perhaps this entire trip, occurred at about 7: 50am on Saturday morning amidst spattering rain when I recognized my husband’s searching gaze. As his wandering expression gave way to a brilliant smile, my steps quickened to a series of rapid skips over puddles and across the street to hug and kiss and just look at him. Then, in truest form, I ran in the opposite direction toward the nearest bathroom, leaving Stig to make his own introductions with our cab driver and sort the plan for transporting his things. That morning’s coffee and water bottle could only serve to hydrate and keep me awake for so long before also catching up with my notoriously small bladder. Too much information? Perhaps. Anyway, and with great relief on all fronts, we reunited a second time and proceeded to the Lusaka bus station to go home to Kitwe.

The bus trip home to Kitwe was not quite so smooth as our blissful reunion. Literally. For nearly six hours we travelled at a consistent trot over potholes and across speed “humps” with impressive, if disconcerting, speed. Nonetheless it seemed a rather perfect introduction to the certain reckless abandon, which can characterize this country and culture. And, after a few stops (at every one of which I deftly made ablutions), we finally landed in the thick of Kitwe Central Bus Station, a hectic circus of vehicles, people and trash coated in a thick layer of dust and whirling in all directions. With some effort we managed a taxi, negotiated a fair price home (all of three dollars), loaded a series of plastic-wrapped bags into our driver’s “boot” and drove to Auntie Sue’s Guesthouse.

Stig says my bedroom seemed bigger in pictures. It also seems the photos didn’t quite do justice to a number of scuffed walls, cracked linoleum tiles and decrepit furnishings. Even so a fresh set of sheets, still wafting of nostalgically soapy scents from home, covered all manner of Zambian housekeeping. With enough unpacking to slip into more cool and comfortable denim and enough daylight to sustain a much-needed walk, Stig and I set off for dinner. This meal turned out to be the most splendid conclusion to our perfect day. We spent almost two hours in thorough conversation over exquisite butter-chicken, fresh veggies in chili oil and cashew cream gravy, marinated lentils and garlic Naan. Then we returned to my Kitwe “Castle” to bask in those soapy sheets. Too much information? Perhaps.

The story of Stig is, of course, the highlight of my week. Other happenings seem to fade, even as I now attempt reflection. However, a few more of those aforementioned “great and unprecedented” moments included the following:

·      Some really productive time spent with the new Copperbelt coordinator, whom, I recently learned, will be living with me here in Kitwe. This means I will have help and company through the duration of my last weeks in Zambia, a tremendous answer to prayer!

·      My first taste of sea salt, turbinado sugar and chocolate-covered almonds (on Zambian soil, that is).

·      My first Tagalong chocolate peanut-butter Girl-Scout cookie (also on Zambian soil).

·      The first and glorious dried apricot I’ve eaten in over two months.

·      My first Zambian kiss!

I’m signing off this week with a spirit of utter joy and contentment. Wishing you each all the same happiness.

With love,

Jess