Chipata

One week from when I arrive in Zambia, it’s time to head “into the field” to train district health managers on data collection and analysis. We drive to Chipata, in the Eastern part of Zambia, over magnificently winding hills and valleys. I get to see a taste of rural Zambia, with straw houses and one-room schools. There is an entrepreneurial spirit alive and well even in the smallest of towns, where everyone has something to sell by the street. This is in stark contrast to Zimbabwe, where, I’m told, you can’t even buy airtime (everyone here has prepaid cell phones, and you can buy airtime everywhere). We arrive in Chipata after a long 6 hour drive over heavily pot-holed roads (this made me ask—how do pot holes happen? Our driver helpfully explained that a road is made up of millions of tiny stones, laid flat and covered with tar. If one stone happens to be sticking up, not perfectly flat, then when a truck strikes it, it will come loose. Then, when the rainy season comes, water pours into this tiny hole, slowly enlarging it, as trucks continue to damage it, until you have a pothole bigger than Delaware, roughly speaking). Chipata is the shortest and nicest trip we’ll be making during our field visits, I’m told.

We check into our hotel in a dimly lit lobby, walk through a bar with the television on, and head into the outside structures that hold our rooms. It’s just getting to dusk, so as soon as I get into my room, I try to turn on the lights. Nothing happens when I switch on switch after switch. Knowing that sometimes turning on power outside the US sometimes involves switching on outlets first, then lights, or switching on a master switch before the light switches themselves, I persevere, trying to turn on switches in different combinations. Now it’s really pitch dark, and I really need to use the bathroom after a six hour journey where our only stop was in the “bush toilet”. I stumble in the dark to reception—still lit, by the way—where they tell me the power is out and helpfully offer a candle. Given that the lights are on in the very place I’m standing, I assume it’s some kind of hotel problem. She tells me the power should be on by 19h, or 7 pm. The power never arrives, and I later realize the power in the main building is from a generator. A small generator. We’re actually in the midst of a nation-wide blackout. Over our three day workshop, we have actual power for 2 hours a day (rationed throughout the country), generated power intermittently, and, consequently, lots of improvisation. At night, when the power turns on for two hours in the middle of the night, I have to leap up and plug in my laptop so I’ll have charge the next day. I almost burn down the hotel room twice with my candle.

The workshop itself proceeds amazingly well, despite the power situation. We teach them to query data out of Access, make pivot tables, and create charts to understand their data. Later, I teach them how to “freeze panes” and use a dollar sign in a formula to freeze it, and you’d swear I’d changed their lives. It’s incredibly energizing, actually, to see these smart, dedicated, Zambian people working to solve Zambian problems. For all the talk of NGOs running things, there are an incredible amount of talented, dedicated Zambians working on development and health problems. It’s still with international money, but it’s a start…

PS. On the way to Chipata, Richard and Andrea took a detour to South Lulangwa National Park, the most famous national park in the country, and saw giraffes, elephants, and even a leopard roaming in the wild. So jealous!