We landed at the Lusaka Airport and exited on to the tarmac beneath a red rising sun. Everything leading up to our arrival had been about the business of travel, but once we touched ground, a knot formed in my stomach, the bitter realization that I was here, departed from one world to another, unknown and complex.

At the airport the GRS triumvirate was finally united. I had flown with Meredith and our boss, Leah, picked us up. These are the girls who I’ll be living and working with for the next year. I liked both of them immediately and I think we’ll make a great team.

We had the rest of the day to unpack and relax because the following morning we would be making a trip to Miyukwayukwa, a refugee camp in the western province made up of displaced Angolans. The trip was supposed to take around six hours, but ended up taking twelve. This was my first introduction to Zambian Time (the pace here is a lot slower). When we arrived at Miyukwayukwa, there was no one there to greet us. Apparently the message that we were coming never got through to the appropriate people. Even more disheartening was the fact that some of the refugees were under the impression that Grassroot Soccer was never coming back to the camp. I was disappointed that everything was so disorganized. They had to scramble to find a place for us to stay, but eventually everything worked out. However, the lack of communication cost us day. Arriving on Friday in the evening, we didn’t really do much work until Sunday afternoon.

There were nine of us that made the trip: five GRS people and four BSA. Breakthrough Sports Academy is our partner organization when we go to the refugee camp. Basically, before the two programs came to Miyukwayukwa there was no soccer. We set up the GRS program to give adults something positive to do in the community and to educate the kids. BSA started a soccer league in the camp. Now everyone in the camp comes to watch the games. Along with BSA, we trained them how to set a league and gave each team brand new jerseys and brand new balls (by jerseys I mean donated uniforms, one team even wears Connecticut College jerseys. I was pissed. Where’s Wesleyan at?) Anyway, along with the three mazungos (the word for white people), there was Peter and Isaac, two of our top GRS facilitators who actually ran the training sessions, and then BSA coaches Lumbiwe (26), Mutale (19), Konda (49), and Nchimunya ( 27).


---------------------Nchimunya, Isaac, Leah, Peter, Konda and Me---------------------

We were able to see a league game on Saturday, and then on Sunday there were finals held for each division (U-12, U17, Over 17, and U-17 girls). The pitch they play on is strictly dirt and no one has shoes to play in. There was a huge crowd to watch the games. They say people here have stopped drinking as much and instead watch the soccer matches. As soon as we sat down to watch the games, we were mobbed by a group of kids. They don’t really wipe their noses here so a lot of them just walk around with their faces covered in dried snot. These children were infinitely cute but I was reluctant to take my camera out. Leah said I’d get over it. One kid pointed to my water bottle, asking for it, and I acquiesced. This started a small riot which ended in one kid chasing another and beating him down. I won’t do that again.

We met with the GRS leaders from Miyuwka and also Chivanga, another camp two kilometers away. They told us of their grievances. The soccer coaches they’re supposed to work with only wanted to play soccer and not do the GRS part of the program. Also, because the balls pop really easily here, at some point all the balls ran out causing league play to stop and consequently the GRS program. There had been a standstill in the month of August. Now there was a mountain of work to be done, but Monday was a turning point. It was the first time I felt real love for this place.

Monday morning we met with all the GRS/BSA members. We went over our agenda and goals for the upcoming day and month: Message boards in both villages, better communication, a schedule that includes both programs together, and GRS graduation in late October. Even though they had trained in April, they still hadn’t graduated any children. It was quite dismaying. But over the course of the day and the following morning, we instilled in them the tools and knowledge to be successful in the coming month.

That night at 17:00(everything’s in military time here) Ma Linda had us over. When we got there she was finishing up some paperwork for the next day’s repatriation of a number of refugees back to Angola. Ma Linda is the archetype of a matriarch. She is one of the bosses at the camp and everyone does her bidding. She was a wonderful host with a wry sense of humor. She had sodas brought for us and then a heaping plate of six delicious village chickens. There was an odd mix of silence and conversation at the table. I was anxious to keep it up and learn more about Linda. She told us she was from West Africa, went to college in Indiana and then did relief work in Serbia before coming to work with Angolan refugees. Somehow someone suggested we go around the room making up a story as a group. Ma Linda started about a man from a government going to an insane asylum to examine whether or not two inmates were crazy. Then each person added more and more to the story. It turned out to be quite bizarre but hilarious. In the end, Ma Linda blessed us and told everyone never to live with regret and to look forward towards hope, and to know in everything good or bad there is always something to learn. I felt like the whole thing was some idyllic dream of a welcoming to Zambia that only ever happens as fantasy. And yet this time is came true.

Tuesday afternoon we headed back to Lusaka. The van broke down numerous times, once while the radio was blasting “Dame mas Gasoline” (they actually had to put more diesel in the tank). But we made it back, eager to be home before Presidential Elections the following day.