LYNN
Elementary Education Undergraduate |
LYNN
Elementary Education Undergraduate |
Have you ever had that feeling that you *think* you think one thing, but something keeps nagging at you and you’re not sure what it is? Sometimes I don’t know how I truly feel about something until I write about it. In the middle of me journaling about the absurd size of spiders at Mukambi (!!!) and my fear of something I could easily (well, maybe not SO easily) squash with my nice new hiking boot (if I were brave), my brain goes off on a tangent and suddenly I’m writing about the thing I didn’t know I thought from Chikumbuso, yesterday, during a typical stream of consciousness tangent in my journal. What I’m about to say in no way taints the astounding experience I had at Chikumbuso yesterday. I toyed with NOT blogging about it, but part of my Zambian journey has been to be completely authentic…so I’ve decided to blog my thoughts about this. Yesterday, the people at Chikumbuso welcomed us with open arms. They were eager to show us what they do and who they are. As I understand it, Chikumbuso frequently welcomes supporters to their humble abode. As I said in yesterday’s blog, a portion of our fundraising efforts was donated to three of the programs at Chikumbuso: The Daily Feeding Program, the Adopt a Grandmother Program, and the Safe Haven Program. I originally thought we saw the things we saw yesterday because that’s just what happens at Chikumbuso on a daily basis. In retrospect, I think, perhaps, we saw some of the things because they were trying to show us what we had supported with our donations. I appreciate the thought, but one thing didn’t set right with me. Some of us got to participate in the Daily Feeding Program by serving the food to 300 children for lunch. It was rewarding. I loved every minute and felt honored to interact with the women who’d prepared the food, and with the children coming through the line. It was one of my favorite parts of that whole wondrous day. It was also staggering to me to contemplate the task of feeding this many people multiple times a day. This is a program I’ll donate to every year. We also got to meet the grandmother we “adopted”. For a meager $350 this grandma and her grandchildren will receive food, necessities, education, and shelter, if necessary, for an entire year! (That is astounding to me. It seemed an excellent investment to all of us when we made our decision on what to support.) She didn’t speak English, but Benson translated her message to us, as she thanked us and told us her story. She was a proud woman, reminding me of a quiet but majestic lioness. Today I have her photo as my “wallpaper” on my phone to remind me how blessed I am, and what grace and dignity look like. That photo lead me to taking the left turn in my journaling. After we met the grandmother, there were 11 girls in two rows waiting to sing for us. They appeared middle school to high school aged. Then they were introduced to us. These were the girls from the Safe Haven Program. Oh. This introduction hit me like a punch to my gut. A few times over the past week we’d been told that pregnancy in girls as young as the age of 10 was a problem in Zambia. That is a shocking statement, but seeing these girls in front of us, suddenly reality became sickeningly real. In my safe, suburban mind, this Safe Haven Program was for WOMEN escaping a bad marriage or home situation, much like the Women’s Respite Program in Buffalo, N.Y., (helping low-income mothers and grandmothers) or Cornerstone Manor (a shelter for women and children escaping domestic violence). I looked at every single face. These were children. Children. My heart twisted and my stomach lurched. One girl of approximately 14 years of age, wearing a thinly striped jumper over a long-sleeved white shirt, stood with hands gently clasped before her, meekly saying, “we girls want to say thank you for the donations…” and she smiled shyly when kneeling back down with her peers. Some of the girls smiled with their mouths, but their eyes did not smile. Many of the girls looked at the ground. Many had a pained look on their faces. They stood up in their two neat rows and began to sing for us. It was a sweet, Christian song that will forever haunt me. “If God cares for the animals, for sure, I know He cares for me. Thank Jesus, who died for me. Hallelujah, He rose for me. For the promises of The Bible are true, for sure. I know He cares for me.” They sang without joy. They rocked in very small rhythm to the song, eyes cast downward in embarrassment. It could be attributed to the typical embarrassment of any teenager…but these were not typical teenagers. And it cracked my soul. The gaze of our eyes must have burned these girls. I looked at each girl as she sang, trying to memorize her face and tattoo it on my heart, so I could at least honor them with remembrance, in the Chikumbuso fashion. I was overwhelmed. I think we all were. Immediately afterward a couple of my cohorts thanked everyone in the room for sharing their stories and their song with us. Few of us had dry eyes. Then we were all invited up on the platform amongst the dancing, singing, ululating women. We were swept into that incredible experience that defied explanation. It was so powerfully emotional that it wholly absorbed me, which is probably why it took me until now to verbalize my thinking on the girls’ performance. I appreciate that they wanted to show gratitude. But I’m pretty sure that show of gratitude was prodded by the head of the program, or perhaps the director or somebody in charge. I understand that. Their song was meant to be their thank you note. Chikumbuso is a place of love, compassion, and empathy. But there was a huge difference in all the other times that someone from Chikumbuso spoke to us, or a group sang for us. There was incredible pride and DIGNITY in all those other times. Dignity is what was lacking when those girls sang for us. Somehow, their singing translated more into ‘singing for their supper’ (for lack of a better term). And I didn’t love it. They’d already been through enough. We did not donate money to get a thank you. We donated because we desperately wanted to help in a meaningful way. We gave money in a respectful manner on their website to SUPPORT this program. We are all grateful such a program in such a wonderful place exists. There’s no doubt in my mind most of us will continue to support Chikumbuso over the years. The problem, the thing that nagged at me, is that these girls lacked the feeling of dignity that we got to witness and be a part of when the women showed us how they turn the trash of plastic bags into gorgeous treasure. When we learned how they earn a living and contribute to their community. When they shared stories with us and we shared stories with them. When that grandmother shared her story. Every one of those women was cloaked in dignity. It was so beautiful. My thought in sharing this is not in any way to cluck over how a situation was handled. I think it might be just exploring my own feelings of discomfort. I specifically came to this beautiful country to learn about their education system, to collaborate, and teach in a new setting. I wanted to explore the culture here. I wanted to give my own thanks and show my gratitude by contributing where I could, in words, actions, and monetarily, as with the donations, as a symbol of thanks for allowing me to participate. In retrospect, that brief moment of singing with the girls lent me the icky sensation of being a dreaded White Savior. Which is the very last way in which I’d ever want to behave. I may be overthinking this, but it is only in reflection that we can improve our actions, thoughts and behaviors. Teen Pregnancy Facts in Zambia: Teen pregnancy (‘teen’ qualifying as between the ages of 10-19 years old) has declined from 31.6% in 1992, to 29.2% in 2018. It is 37% more likely to occur in rural areas of Zambia than urban areas. Teen pregnancy occurs more commonly in married teens (90% of the time) because girls are pressured into getting married at a young age and subsequently having children. Contributing factors include gender inequality, poor sexual health information, poverty, inadequate education/literacy, unemployment, geography (rural residence), and poor access/use of contraceptives. Early sexual debut (having sex prior to 15 years of age) was also a contributing factor.
The following information was gathered from a study printed in 2023 in Reproductive Health Journal. Phiri, M., Kasonde, M.E., Moyo, N. et al. A multilevel analysis of trends and predictors associated with teenage pregnancy in Zambia (2001–2018). Reprod Health 20, 16 (2023). https://doi.org/10.1186/s12978-023-01567-2 https://reproductive-health-journal.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s12978-023-01567-2#Tab2 For more information on the programs I referred to in this blog, please visit: Chikumbuso https://www.chikumbuso.com/safe-haven Women’s Respite Program https://womensrespite.org/programs/ Cornerstone Manor https://www.211wny.org/provider/5783/
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AuthorHi! I’m a mom to 3 boys (all in their 20s now) and graduated this May 2023 with my Childhood Education degree. I’m thrilled to be going to Lusaka, Zambia to teach at Libala Primary. As a life-long learner, I’m eager to learn about the culture and education system in Zambia, where I’m certain I’ll be learning far more than I can possibly teach. I can’t wait to bring a little Buffalo, NY to Lusaka, and then take a little Lusaka back to my future classroom in Buffalo, NY! ArchivesCategories |