Because we didn’t have to drive from Kaoma to Mongu as originally planned, we got to sleep in, which I did gratefully. The next morning, there was no power or water at our lodge, so I had to wait an hour before getting in the shower. Once I did, the power and water went in and out about 4 times during my shower. I had to just sit and wait, which would have been pretty funny had I not been so grumpy. Eventually I did get a thorough, if lukewarm shower and cheered up. Breakfast was the same menu as described yesterday, but the quality was much better and I actually enjoyed it a tiny bit.
We stopped at the local government education official’s office for a meeting (following the exact script described earlier) before a visit to a “community school,” which is basically a school that’s not funded by the government but rather by contributions from parents and any other donations they can come across. Community schools are the poorest, most rudimentary schools in Zambia, and the school we visited in Mongu was no exception. The school consisted of about 4-5 reed huts on a piece of land that was donated by the Mongu district government and the traditional (i.e. Lozi tribe) government. In this case, some of the land was donated by a Lozi Princess who owns it; she was supposed to attend our event but blew us off, but I guess she’s somewhat involved in the school as well. The school was managed by the school’s founder and Coordinator (Reverend Edward) and the PTA. The U.S. government (through USAID) had funded desks, benches, a couple blackboards, and some educational materials. USAID also paid for short teaching courses (closer to in-service training, definitely not formal diploma or degree programs) approved by the Ministry of Education (MoE) for the teachers at the school. The NGO who manages the grant has also provided training to teachers and parents in life skills, HIV prevention, child rights awareness, and other areas including “supporting” the formation of anti-AIDS and child rights clubs for the kids (though I don’t know what that really consists of, I’m going off the briefing materials I was given here).
The school was started in 2003 to enroll orphans and vulnerable children in the area who did not have access to a government school or other education. It’s a basic, or primary school (grades 1-6) currently enrolling 109 kids, and follows the government curriculum and MoE grading system even though it’s not a government school. The kids that attend are very poor, and cannot afford to pay school fees or purchase uniforms at other schools. The kids we saw were dirty, barefoot, shabbily dressed, and clearly very poor; the Coordinator told us that attendance is spotty even among the kids that really like school. This is due to parents holding them back for a variety of reasons (their labor is needed for farming tasks at times) and that depending on how far away they live, they aren’t always able to get to the school during the rainy season.
When we arrived, the kids enrolled in the school were all seated on a couple rows of benches across from the table of honor where we sat. I hate the word cute, but these kids were friggin’ cute. The program started with introductions and short speeches from the Coordinator and Chris, and then the kids sang and danced for us. This was quite possibly the highlight of the entire week for me; about 20 kids spanning the grades first sang and did a coordinated dance while moving in a circle around 3 kids in the center who played drums to give them a beat.
After about 5 minutes of repeating that, they stopped and started a new beat. I couldn’t follow most of the song (it was in Lozi), but at one point in the second song, they stopped going around the circle and one of the older girls shouted in English (I’m pretty sure I have this right) “Can you shake your butt today?,” and all the others responded “Yes I shake my butt today!” And then, yes, all 20 of them shook it. I almost fell out of my chair laughing. Then they went back to their Lozi song and ring-around-the-circle, but we got one more encore of the butt-shaking.
After the dancing, we had a few more speeches, and then the kids sang (no more dancing) us songs on child rights that included lyrics how kids should have the right not to be abused, the right to housing and decent food, and the right to go to school. It was touching and heartbreaking to hear that from this group; they sang it so matter-of-factly, but they were singing about such huge and fundamental issues that all of them deal with more than anybody, and it just really struck me.
Next were a couple skits about HIV, which were in Lozi but I believe revolved around a storyline of a husband beating his wife or housekeeper because they contracted HIV, and about why what the husband did was wrong. Lastly, a couple kids gave speeches on HIV/AIDS, children's rights, and other topics that basically repeated the themes in the songs, but to hear the kids give them in English almost broke me for some reason. It was very difficult to watch a kid who is clearly super-smart, standing barefoot in dirty clothes in sand outside his reed-hut school, stating that all children should have the right to a decent education even though in all likelihood he’s not getting one. One of the little girls who couldn’t have been more than 5 gave a speech in the super-high pitched 5-year old voice and I had to try hard not to cry.
After the performances, we went to one of the classroom huts for a meeting with the Coordinator, all the government officials, and two of the kids who represent the pupils on the PTA. After a couple more speeches, we asked a bunch of questions and heard the Coordinator and the teachers (including a blind teacher who was taking notes on a Braille board) discuss their challenges and needs. For some reason, this meeting really pissed me off; it served its intended purpose by educating the visitors about how the school works and the issues they face, but I felt this pervasive sense that it was all for show and that the visit wouldn’t result in any change. The Coordinator and teachers were clearly speaking very carefully around the government officials and NGO officers so as not to upset them, and every time they asked for some additional, specific assistance, either a government or NGO person would speak up and highlight why it wasn’t possible to provide what they needed. It seemed to me (and I was getting a little angry and irrational about it, so I could have been wrong) that there was an implication that this school had already been helped and should be happy with what it had and not ask for more until it demonstrated results that seemed to me to be unrealistic. The Coordinator was describing how difficult it was to advance their kids to levels where they could pass government exams, and the implication from the officials was that the school couldn’t receive more aid until they improved passage rates.
I’m also taking off my rational and analytical hat now (as well as my U.S. government employee hat, I guess) for a minute-- I’m sure I don’t have all the details, but I can’t imagine the total value of the U.S. funded items I saw was more than $2,000. I don't understand why we don't give them more when they clearly had a great deal more need. I think recipients are not well served by spreading U.S. aid too thinly. We were accompanied on the visit by the project officer for the NGO that implements and monitors the education programs for USAID in Western Province, and I temporarily became a fiscal conservative while trying to calculate that person’s salary compared to the value that the recipients receive in the end. I know it's more complex than that, and that there are countless schools and other deserving recipients of aid that weren’t front and center in my consciousness that day, but it still didn’t seem right. It just pissed me off. Then I remembered that I’m a bureaucrat too, and a lot of people probably (and maybe legitimately) think my job or salary is unnecessary to implement U.S. aid. I wish I had better answers. Mostly it made me realize how little I know and how much more I need to understand to become a produtively critical consumer, and I should just shut up and be thankful that I even had the chance to experience this day. End rant.
I should also say a word about the Mayor of Mongu (left, with Chris), who attended and gave a short speech during the meeting. I believe his name is Charles Akende, but that's from Google and not my memory so I'm not 100% sure. He didn’t say anything that I thought was particularly insightful, but it quickly became clear to me that he was a rising star in local politics. He was probably about 35, good-looking, smart, and very well-spoken. He mentioned in his speech that he is the vice president of an association of African mayors all across the continent that is working on development issues. Beyond all that, I got a feeling after speaking with him that he’s savvy and is going places. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him as a high-ranking national politician in 15-20 years.In sum, I was incredibly impressed and moved by the kids, teachers, and the Coordinator at the school, but really frustrated by their situation (whether I’m right or not). This still remains one of my favorite parts of the visit.
Next up was a stop at a government high school to speak to students. We visited a boarding school with permanent facilities that resembled a really shabby U.S. school. It had actual concrete buildings with offices, classrooms with desks and blackboards, and some other facilities that resemble the most basic things we have but take for granted at home. After a short visit with the Head Teacher and his Deputy, we spoke to a class of about 40 kids who I believe were all juniors and seniors. The school does send most of its graduates to college, mostly at University of Zambia; there’s only a couple other colleges in the country and not that many are able to study elsewhere unless they have money and connections.
The kids were a bit shy at first, but eventually opened up and asked a couple questions about HIV (that I had to field as the “expert” in the delegation, which is laughable) and a lot about studying in the U.S. that Chris answered diplomatically-- that it’s possible and that the U.S. Embassy does have some scholarships and limited counseling and assistance for students who want to do so, but that it’s a huge longshot and that most should work hard and focus on attending college in Zambia or wherever they’re able to get in and afford. We told them about the library we run for Zambians in Lusaka and invited them to come check it out, and then we tried to goad them into asking us about the U.S. elections but they wouldn’t bite. They were a good group, but not as engaged as I’d hoped.
After the high school, we went to a ceremony at the Mongu library to donate about 5 cartons of materials (111 books and 180 magazines) to their limited collection. They had the full formal ceremony for the donation, similar to the ceremonies at the clinic and the school. The program included Makishi dancers, prayers and speeches, a tour of the library (which I thought was really nice given the limited collection), and more refreshments while children stared at us…grrrr. The assistant librarian was a young woman who had recently graduated with a degree in library science and was working here as sort of a fellowship. I admired her for knowing exactly what she wants to do and being so committed to it at such a young age; she seemed genuinely excited about the library and about building it up and making it better. She and the other staff were really sincere in their thanks, and told us stories about patrons who came from hundreds of kilometers away to use the library.
They really made me believe the library was integral to the development of the community, and I was proud that we were able to help. And as a funny kicker, I found a book on U.S. public health laws that I actually have on my Amazon.com wish list in their stacks. I can’t imagine anyone in all of Zambia , not to mention rural Zambia, wanting to know that much about a topic so dry with no direct reference to their own legal system, but there it was.
The last event of the day was an interview on a local community (independent) radio station. We were to be interviewed about the U.S. delegation visit to the province, HIV/AIDS and U.S. programs and foreign aid. The interview was to be live, but I learned there is a Ministry of Information ban on call-in radio shows (bastards) so we couldn’t do that.I had gotten separated from the other car and arrived a few minutes late on my own, and foolishly took the lift (elevator) up to the studio on the 5th floor of a really shabby office building. James later told me they’d taken the stairs because someone in the lobby told them the elevator wasn’t safe…I’m lucky I didn’t get stuck, as I had no cell reception. It could have been ages before anyone found me, as this occurred at about 5pm and the building was nearly empty.
I walked in just in the nick of time to sit down in the studio; this was made more comical because I didn’t know I was participating and had just expected to watch. Chris and James introduced me to the DJ as the HIV/AIDS program representative, ushered me into my seat with no questions asked like they’d always expected me to participate. [WARNING: begin ramble] I never get used to the fact that in Zambia, I'm always treated as if I were MUCH more important than I actually am. In D.C., I'm still a relatively junior staffer, but in Zambia I'm am acting in a relatively significant position at the Embassy. It’s also a very different setting than in D.C., where I wouldn’t be asked to give an interview and answer questions on HIV, as I’m generally knowledgeable but far from an expert. Back home, we’d have our press office coordinate something like this, and use a real expert/scientist to do it through conference call or video feed even if they couldn’t be there physically. 
In Zambia, it’s a whole different story, and it’s totally normal for me to slide in and speak officially on behalf of the U.S. government and our Embassy in a huge variety of settings. Here it’s not just press but senior U.S., foreign, and NGO officials that I meet and speak to all the time. I still view myself as relatively junior and insignificant, but people here (for better or worse) don’t treat me as if I’m here on a fellowship and seem to just expect that I can and will act as my position dictates. Luckily, so far I’ve done ok, but my assumptions are more often than not ones I’ve held in the past and don’t apply here; hopefully that will change more naturally as my career progresses, and I’m sure this experience will help. This trip has certainly forced me to think and act on my feet and do my best to use the skills I do have to pretend that I’m more important and competent than I am…when I’m feeling confident that’s actually fun, but it always feels strange. [end ramble]Anyway, I shouldn’t have worried, because we got no further than introducing ourselves on air when the power in the building went down. Apparently the power goes down every day at that time, so I’m not really sure why the station scheduled us then. My 15 seconds of fame ended thusly, and after making plans to try again Friday (when sadly I wouldn’t be available), we went back to the hotel to unwind before dinner.
Dinner that night was at the Oasis Restaurant in Mongu, which served (surprisingly) good Lebanese-ish food alongside Zambian staples. I had good chicken shwarama and chips with this gross-looking but tasty garlic sauce. The dinner was a planned event, and Chris, James, George and I met about 9 invited journalists from local radio stations and newspapers. The journalists were all in their 20s, and during dinner we discussed all the challenges they had in doing their job, including restrictions by the Zambian Ministry of Information on their activities (i.e. no call-in radio shows, etc.), other more informal resistance from the government to releasing information, technology and equipment issues (there aren’t any local TV stations that broadcast in that part of the country, so those who have TVs can only pick up the national station), and their low pay and other professional development challenges. Two of the radio reporters worked for a Catholic-run station, and detailed the extra challenges they faced in filtering their programming to fit church teachings.
We also discussed Zambian politics, and got entertaining earfuls from all of them on their views of the presidential race. I was happy that George (on the left, in the suit) was there with us, both because he is Lozi and knows Western Province, but also because I realized how knowledgeable he is about Zambian and international politics. That shouldn’t surprise me because he works for the U.S. as a political advisor, but I hadn’t gotten to know him well yet and didn’t yet understand his role or his immense value. I found out that George had gotten a masters degree in politics from a school in Germany after leaving the Zambian army, and that he’d traveled to China, India, all over Africa, and throughout Europe. He’s an incredibly interesting guy and extremely warm and funny. More on George tomorrow…The journalists quizzed us intensely on U.S. politics, and I think we all received a nice lesson in comparative campaign politics and national government. I found out during dinner that Chris follows the elections as religiously as I do, and we both helped the Zambians understand some of the things going on in the campaigns. Lastly, we quizzed them on their backgrounds, educations, and professional aspirations. Many of them said they would love to travel or study in the U.S., but haven’t been able to do so yet for financial and many other reasons. We all traded email addresses, and I wrote to the group when I returned home and have already gotten a couple responses. They were all really impressive, friendly, sharp, and motivated to advance freedom of speech and press in Zambia. I hope I keep in touch with some of them.
After dinner, we went back to the new (for me) Country Lodge, where the room wasn’t as nice as at Crossroads but was clean enough. The hotel had satellite TV, but for some reason they had only one tuner, so the channel that they set in the office was the only one available in all the rooms. Luckily, James convinced them to put on ESPN, so I watched a women’s 9-ball tournament before bed (random I know, but I’ll take anything American at this point). Another solid day… 
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