Whats in a Name?

When it comes to naming their newborn child couples around the world go to great lengths to find the right name. Much thought and research, quarreling and consulting goes into the naming process. Some like names pregnant with meaning, others choose them for their sound or the number of alphabets they have if they are bothered about numerology.

Here in Zambia though a name is a name and sometimes it’s all about practicality. If a child is born on a Friday or a Sunday or a Monday well, that will be his name. Similarly a first born could very well be named First. Other interesting names I’ve come across are Charity, Innocent, Loveness, Ringness, Stone, Opper and my personal favourite -Exnobert!

The Inswa

Every year at the start of the rainy season the flying termites appear. I don't know where they suddenly come from but once they arrive you can't miss them. The inswa, as they are called are rather large and move in swarms of what must be hundreds.

The other night, while my house-mate and I were settling down to watch an episode of 'Grey's Anatomy', we heard a loud flapping sound coming from near the dining room light. I have no clue how, but one of those giant insects had managed to enter the house despite our taking every precaution against just that. So we decided that the creature must die. We must have spent about ten minutes comically swatting the air with dusters trying to get the evasive insect down . Eventually with one random blow it was on the floor.

After our little victory, we toyed with the idea of soaking the termite in water and then frying it up as a snack, something we had heard was commonly done as Inswa are quite the delicacy here. We decided this was a good idea but one was not going to be enough so we would wait till we had collected some more. We sat back down to continue watching 'Grey's Anatomy', a new un-winding ritual in our house. And then again we heard the flapping.

Our night was spent killing insects, shrieking, giggling and taking photographs of what had turned out to be an insect safari in our living room. Our killings were mainly inswa and beetles though a cluster of flying ants, a stick insect, a beautiful moth, a locust and a happy looking lizard were also spotted.

Since the insect killing was not enough to work up an appetite, we decided to refrigerate our inswa for frying the next day. Of course, the next day we chickened out. But I am determined to try this delicacy soon. I believe they taste like nutty scrambled eggs. Will have to find out for myself.

Meeting the Team

Friday 7th November 2008

Today was a great day! We were picked up from the hospital and driven to the Buntolo drop in centre. ‘Buntolo’ means oasis and it is the hospital’s HIV/AIDS centre. It was to be a day of introductions. We, the new VSO volunteers were being taken there to meet the ‘Home Based Care’ team. As our car pulled in to the compound, a group of about 40 Care Givers stood up and welcomed us in song. I was completely overwhelmed as I had not expected anything of the sort. A meeting was what I was prepared for and this was unlike any I had ever attended. Zambians can really sing! They have rhythm in their veins and sing their hearts out at any opportunity they get. They can also really dance! I will not be ready to leave this country till I have learned to shake my waist like these women can.

So in between much singing and dancing, a meeting was conducted in which we were all introduced to each other and briefed on our roles and yada yada. I’ll skip the boring stuff (though there was very little). All in all, I am very happy to have a chance to work with such a wonderful group of people and look forward to going out into the villages and seeing them in action.

The Mother That Wasn't

Monday 3rd November 2008

On Monday, I spent the day at the maternity ward of the hospital where I work. I was mainly there to learn about the ‘Prevention of Mother to Child Transmission’ (PMTCT) work that they do there. PMTCT programmes aim at reducing the probability of transmission of HIV from positive mothers to their children. This can be done by encouraging mothers to get voluntarily tested and learn what their HIV status is (though now this is more or less compulsory in Zambia). If mothers are tested as positive they are advised to start taking Anti Retro Viral (ARV) drugs in order to reduce the likelihood of their child being born positive and of course improve their health and delay the onset of AIDS. Other measures to reduce transmission to the child involve a post exposure course of drugs given to the infant and reduction if not complete substitution of breast feeding as the virus can be transmitted from the mother’s milk into the infant’s bloodstream through cuts and soars in the mouth.

After spending the morning learning about the HIV/AIDS work done at the maternity ward, I was invited to observe activities in the labour ward. The first procedure that I was able to observe was an ‘evacuation’. This was a procedure carried out on a young woman of 23 years. I was not quite sure what it was that I was observing but I saw the doctor remove something from the woman’s uterus – a 2 inch long piece of what looked like flesh – it was the fetus. I later learned that an evacuation is basically carried out after a woman has had an abortion in order to clean out the uterus. I’m not quite sure what my views on abortion are, I do value the right to choose but still find myself uncomfortable with the idea of terminating pregnancy. However after having watched the procedure which can only be described as a brutal invasion of the female body, I would never ever want myself or any of my friends to end up in that situation (girls…seriously!). There is no way in which to exorcize the painful moans of that young woman from my mind but though she was in great despair, hers was not the only pain I witnessed that day. A few beds away, an expectant mother had gone into labour, she was now fully dilated and as the ‘evacuation’ patient began to recover from her trauma, this soon to be mother was just at the beginning of hers.

Her water broke, giving off a foul stench and many of the nurses suspected the baby had died. They were indeed right. At 3.16 pm I watched a mother deliver a still born child, with just the same amount of hope and with the same pains as any other mother. She had carried this child in her womb for 9 months, gone through all the tribulations of pregnancy but was not to be rewarded at the end. It was truly one of the saddest things I have ever seen. Post delivery, the mother experienced heavy bleeding and complications that I could no longer stand to watch. I waited outside for hours during which an expert surgeon was called in and the patient’s cries of anguish diminished to soft periodic moans. My day was done. I thought perhaps I should stick around to witness another delivery with the hope that it would be successful and therefore reassuring. I wanted for the most selfish reasons to be reminded of the joys of child birth, to see the sheer delight in a mother’s eyes when she catches the first glimpse of her baby. But I could not get my mind of the agony of that mother that wasn’t, so I called it a day.