Chloe Loving

A young boy participates in an English exercise.

As I stepped off of the plane in Lusaka, Zambia for my humanitarian aid, I had no idea how much this trip would change not only my perspective on life but as well as how I view the others around me.
As I entered the school, I saw students in tears because supplies that we take for granted every day have opened up a new world of opportunities for the children.
This trip has taught me so much in just 19 days. No school lesson can teach you how to make a five year old orphan laugh and smile. Some things you have to experience to understand.
The first school we visited was Chikumbuso, located in the capital, Lusaka. They are considered a more modern learning center. Not only are they a school, they also serve as a community center and an orphanage.
The first thing I noticed in Zambia was the dry ground. Some of the children were wearing shoes, and many were covered in dust. Each student only had one or two sets of clothes, yet they sacrificed what they had to play with their friends.
I stood there taking in my surroundings. I could feel the children staring at me, noticing every detail of my appearance. Their eyes made me nervous. My thoughts were scattered, stuck on every aspect of the school when suddenly I felt something grab my dirty jeans. I looked down and noticed a young boy of about four or five years of age. He was smiling and laughing as he hugged me. I knelt down to his height and I asked him what his name was. “I am Jonatan. How are you?” “I am good. How about you?” He stared at me blankly not knowing how to respond. One of the leaders from our group whispers to me, “Say you are fine, not good!” I couldn’t see why that would make a difference, yet I thought it was worth a try anyways. I tried again, “I am fine. How are you Jonatan?” He immediately answered “I am fine.” I then realized that was the full extent of his english and all students were taught this formulaic conversation as their basis for english. Only the older children could converse in more developed english.
I looked at Jonatan with my new realization in mind and began to smile. Such a sweet boy, trying so hard to make me feel welcome.
Our stay at Chikumbuso lasted all of three days. The first day we were given a tour by one of the headmasters. Her name was Gladys and she had been at Chikumbuso since the very beginning. She explained that this organization started as simply a school but evolved into a shelter after one particular night.
There I met a 16 year old girl who was bounded by marriage to a much older man. She lived as an orphan from a young age and the man had found her on the streets. He was her only chance for survival however she was incessantly beat and raped by her husband. One night she became so desperate to escape the abuse so she ran to the closest building she could see. The next morning she was found by the teachers of Chikumbuso. They took her in and she began to live in a small room that they provided for her. Almost five years later, this room still exists and is called the “Haven Room”. Children who escape poor situation can come to this room at any hour of the day and stay until they find a better solution for the current problem. Often the children are placed with foster parents or taken in by the teachers. Gladys continued to explain as she told us that the young girl was now a teacher at Chikumbuso and lived there with her daughter, the product of the abusive marriage. Later we met Kelly, the beautiful four year old girl whose mother had been through so much.
In preparation for our first day of instruction, we fabricated basic lesson plans to use with the orphans which we soon noticed were changed as the instruction began. My particular group attempted to teach the seventh graders poetry but their english was not so advanced. Many of the students spoke a different vernacular depending on what region they were raised in.

After working with Chikumbuso we visited a small school called Chitituko. This particular institution was for special needs students who were not given the attention they needed at other schools. The whole school only had two teachers including the principal, and one small cinder block room with a divider in the middle. Even this small cement room exceeded their budget and they were five months behind on their low rent, the equivalency to 25 dollars.
72 out of the 80 students enrolled were orphans. 60 out of 80 of these children were HIV and/ or AIDS positive. The school attempted to provide ARV’s (AIDS medication) to its students, however, the medication is meant to be given with a nutritious diet or it is otherwise not effective. Chitituko also tried to develop a feeding program but the most they could afford was once every week, which, for most of the students was their only meal.
Before we loaded the bus to get back to the guest house that we were staying at, we had to say our goodbyes. A young girl came up to be and hugged me so tight. I picked her up and jokingly began to tickle her. I noticed her innocent smile and an awful thought struck me. Is she HIV positive? Who takes care of her? How long does she have to live? These reasonable but depressing thoughts infected my mind. I quickly put her down and did my best to hide my tears. I didn’t want her to ask me why I was crying.
The headmaster thanked us for the donations that we left him and began to cry himself as he explained the strife the school experiences.
At first the idea of being isolated from my parents and all technology was very daunting. Not only was this my first time in Zambia, it was my first time in Africa and out of the country without my family. With such a different experience and a different lifestyle, it seems very intimidating. I would never had expected how much such a diverse groups of kids could bond over the simple love of helping their fellow human beings.
I knew that these few weeks would make me more conscious of my everyday decisions, yet it did so much more. Never again will I take advantage of my education. As Americans, we are handed so many tools to sculpt our lives into what we want. Zambian students are not all given good paths to follow and have to work hard to create their own future with no help from their family or their government.
Now that I have stayed in a completely different world for almost three weeks, I never want to stop traveling. After being submerged in a new culture that I knew so little about, I have learned to appreciate small aspects of life such as food or dance. I never would have thought I could move my hips the way the Zambians taught me I can. Now, I love dancing and find it hard to stay still when a good beat comes on.
While their food was different, it was intriguing. Their staple food, called N’shima, keeps their stomachs from begging for food. However, it did not look in the least bit enticing when it was presented to me for the first time at a Chikumbuso school. I gave it a few more tries and now I will voluntarily take a portion of the traditional Zambian.
I can already see myself arriving back home as a much better person than I have ever been before. I have a much more positive attitude towards complete strangers. The people that I have met in this country are naturally good and kind. A smile could always be found.
Saying goodbye is always bittersweet and this time was no different. I missed such basic things such as my shower, my dogs, my car and my bed. I couldn’t wait to see my mom, dad and brother at the airport.
Zambia has been so good to me. The children welcomed us with hugs and love without even knowing our names. So many families treated us to N’shima and what little other food they had to spare. This departure said goodbye to three weeks but opened a whole new world of perspective. Now that I have returned, I plan to work with Gladys and a club at Chikumbuso known as “Daughter’s Vision”. This group focuses on helping young girls recognize what they want to do with their life and it teaches them how to avoid obstacles such as pregnancy or infectious diseases. I currently write to the young girls of Daughter’s Vision but I hope to include other Annandale students. They can help raise money for these girls’ education and develop a friendship with someone who lives so differently and is faced with obstacles that we can not even fathom.
I find it difficult to go and sit at dinner with my family as I remember the kids I met who do not eat on a regular basis. As Americans, we take so many things for granted without acknowledging how much we are provided with.
Next time you see someone on the street, smile. You don’t know what they’ve gone through, or where they came from. We must not forget one another because as fellow human beings we should help every inhabitant of this Earth so we all prosper equally.