Development Complete?

With two weeks left in the village I naturally have been evaluating my work, my relationships and contentment with it all. As I write reports explaining my work and highlighting my relationships within the communities in which I work, I have realized I’ve done a good job. I have worked in every component of my project framework and have had some success in each aspect. I feel I have done as much as I could as far as my project is concerned.

But it’s been so much more than hitting benchmarks and calculating numbers. Looking back on my two years I can’t believe how much I have done. Not in a tooting my own horn sort of way but “professionally” and personally I’ve come a LONG way.

I remember the days of sitting and waiting 2 hours for a meeting to start and then feeling
unaccomplished at the end. I remember how hurt and let down I felt when I would give my opinion in a meeting and just be cast aside because my ideas were “too American” and I was too young. I remember how it felt not having a host family and being so sad that I didn’t have anyone to call my “maayo” (mother) and how I felt like I couldn’t really talk to anyone in the village because I was so afraid of my lack of Bemba and the cultural differences were just too big.

Now the teachers at my school have tears in their eyes when I tell them I’m leaving in two weeks, they consider my opinion valuable not because I’m the American but because I’ve worked alongside them for two years and I love the kids just as much as they do. I now bring a book to read during my 2 hour wait for meetings and am not bothered by the fact that meetings get
cancelled or rescheduled because it’s planting season and its all about give and take. My opinions aren’t too “American” anymore, they are just “Rae’s opinion” and while most people still don’t agree, at the end of the day there’s still tolerance and respect…. For the most part. I’m not too young anymore, I’ve told several times that I speak the truth and am wise for my age. I now
have a “little brother” who lives next door who I don’t know what I’m going to do without and so many “maayos” and “bambuyas” (grandmothers) that I’ve lost count. I have learned to communicate with the Bemba that I do know (even though I still wish I knew more) and that’s more than enough for people. And if I can’t get my point across with my Bemba, my hand gestures, dancing and shoulder shrugs usually do the trick.

I’ve learned a lot of lessons here, too many to count and all things that I hope will stick with me even in the fast paced, anti-social place that I call home. I’ve learned that silence really is ok and while you can only be alone with your thoughts for so long, it’s important that you get to know
yourself as well as others. I am strong; physically, emotionally and spiritually and I’m grateful that living in a mud hut for two years has reminded me of and accept this fact. It’s really ok to ask for help. I’m still struggling with that because I want to be wonder woman and do it all myself but
its good to know that when I REALLY need help and think I’m about to break, I have a support system wither it be from my PCZ peeps, my Americland family, my “little brother” with his broken English or from my teachers who I can genuinely call my friends. Patience with myself and others around me has made me calmer and less stressed. You really do get what you give and the life is nothing but a balancing act between the two. But I think the most valuable
lesson Zambia has taught me is gratitude.

So while I’ve completed my project goals, this has been a journey of progression, balance and development on a personal level as well. Development complete? Hardly, this is just the first step of my journey to re-define and shape myself. Some people go on week long retreats to try to find
themselves, others travel the world with just a backpack. I chose a mud hut for two years attempting to live like the people I would learn to love and I will always be grateful for this journey.