Life choices...

I've missed the mountains. I find them peaceful, grounding, and inspiring. I've spent most of the last month playing in the mountains after returning from Zambia, venturing places where you don't have to worry about lions when pitching your tent or look for poisonous snakes when hiking. I even got to play a bit in that divine white stuff - snow. I thought it would provide me with an opportunity to clear my mind and focus on a few upcoming decisions. Instead, I found myself paying more attention to the beauty of the location, hiking steep sections requiring concentration, or wearing crampons and trying not to (A) trip and fall in a _bad_ place or (B) tear a hole in my pants.

Not long before I left Zambia, a friend told me a story of his. It turns out, he used to be a monster rock climber, living for a few years in his car as he traveled from one hot climbing destination to another. He was even featured on the cover of Climbing magazine - for an article he wrote himself about a climbing trip. After a few beers, he regaled me with a story about how he had gotten where he is today, working for a renowned organization to improve the lot of the world's children. He was offered a position at a small software company in a mountain town where the focus was on morning ski turns. He was then offered a position with his current organization, living far from the life he had lived - and far from any good climbing. He opted for the more challenging, ambitious job over a more personally satisfying lifestyle. This is a choice that I consistently debate over, the pursuit of happiness or purpose. While you don't have to exclusively choose one over the other, both can have a significant influence over your path in life.

I find myself approaching a similar fork in the road (but without his dichotomous choice in career path). What is that next step for me? After Zambia, what comes next? Is it still across the pond and south a bit? maybe north a bit? Or is it something totally foreign - like staying put? I think it might be time to finally figure out what I want to do when I grow up.

Pictures are from Mt. Baker and Mt. Rainier - courtesy of my climbing partners.

Coffee and Elephants

I woke up last Sunday morning, rolled out of the tent, and started to boil water for coffee. The sun was warm, but not yet hot. Our tent was situated on a bluff overlooking a wide turn in the Zambezi river. As I finished making coffee I sat down to enjoy the morning and breakfast. An elephant on the opposite side of the river was doing the same, rummaging through the bush alongside the river, picking and choosing which grass to pluck or tree to taste. Its a rough life. And its a life that I will miss.

There is plenty about living in Zambia that I won't miss, but probably more that I will. There hasn't been a month here when one tree or another isn't in bloom. Right now there are bunches of hanging yellow flowers. The incessant buzz from bus stops, from bus 'pimps' vying for your business to the pop music blaring out the window. The serenity of the countryside and the smiles on children's faces. Shouts of 'How are YOU?!', quickly followed by 'give me money' or 'I want a sweet.' When I look back on this chapter in my life, I expect the pleasurable memories to remain, and the annoyances to fade away.

I could get nostalgic - but I don't think that's quite my style. But its not everywhere you can share your morning coffee with an elephant.

Teaser

I've been swept up in a whirlwind of activity in the past few weeks. The ruckus of site installs has abated, most work challenges involved with doubling the number of clinics we are working in have settled down. I even managed to take a vacation.

My departure from Zambia is imminent. I don't know when, or if, I will be back. I think so. I haven't quite come to grips with leaving Zambia yet. As I sit and attempt to type, words fail to come. I instead look at some pictures...

Dried fish sold on a roadside stand.

Some of these speak for themselves...

We were stuck behind this truck going uphill for some time.

And then had to deal with a road full of potholes like these.

Ah, and there are so many more...

Resource Allocation and Sustainability

One of my favorite parts of work in Zambia are the trips to the field, installing or fixing hardware in rural clinics. We install a low power computer system for data entry, and train people how to use touchscreen computers that utilize the cell network to transmit data. Half of the sites that we work in are off the grid, and require a solar power installation. We also give community workers cell phones and a custom application, so that data can be passed between them and the clinic. Working with my hands, seeing tangible benefits from a days work, and the 'thank you's' make the job rewarding.

I've just come from one of the remotest of the sites in which we are working. There is no cell coverage. There is a small hill a half an hours walk away where you can get half a bar of service, sometimes, on some phones - but that isn't going to help our data connection at the clinic. Using the cell network to transfer information thus far has been relatively easy and affordable. However, this option wasn't available this time. After surveying a number of options, the time vs money vs schedule dilemma forced us down the path of satellite internet. This wasn't just the shotgun approach, but the golden-plated shotgun approach. Furthermore, the community health workers, without good cell coverage they can access, are given phones with a wifi connection which they can bring to the clinic and connect through the satellite internet to send data.

Think about this for a moment. Rural Africa. Mud huts with thatched roofs sparsely populate the only access to the clinic, a bumpy dirt road. Naked children running around barefoot. Water comes from a river a 45 minute walk away. No electricity. Most people here don't have a cell phone because the service is so poor. The Zambian team I'm working with jokes that the people here aren't even Zambian - they don't know who any of the last four presidents have been. If government services never reach a remote location, that location isn't given any say in the government, and not much has changed since 1) independence 50 years ago and 2) since the country was arbitrarily drawn by colonists a few centuries back, I don't know if I would consider myself a Zambian in that situation either.

But I digress.

Go back to the picture painted of rural Africa. Now add solar panels and a computer. Not too bad. We installed a few light bulbs as well. Now, add a satellite dish and a wifi hotspot. Is this sustainable? Is this the right use of resources? I went home after beginning the installation feeling that no, this wasn't quite right. Yes, the data arm of the project is a main support for the medical intervention that is aiming to drastically reduce mortality rates. A slightly inebriated local regaled me during a work break:

'We need help. we need water, cell coverage, medicine. Can you help?'
'I am trying to help'
'No, we need help. Can't you just send in an application?'
'Um, to who?'
'Just send in an application. We need help.'
Ah yes, just send an application to Bank Mzungu, and all your problems will be solved.

Most of the clinics I have been to have had solar power installations before. None of them work anymore. A cousin decided to plug in his TV and DVD player. Lightening struck the inverter. They ran out of light bulbs. They plugged DC items into AC circuits or vice versa, stole the batteries, abused the inverter, or threw rocks at the solar panels (haven't seen this one personally, but have heard LOTS of stories).

Upon returning to the clinic the next day to finish up, the in-charge was back to complain that we were only installing a few lights, and not lighting the entire clinic or providing electrical outlets. I tried to explain that the system we were installing was minimized for price and functionality. The wiring for lights and sockets had already been installed and at one time they worked - this was the DVD abuse case. After the inverter broke, the battery was stolen, and the system fell into disrepair. When taken to a dingy, dirty store room, there was a 6kVa UPS still in plastic, donated by an NGO. This is used to take AC input, clean it up and store it in a battery, and plug fancy electrical equipment into it, which can be powered for some time after the AC input dies. This was the biggest one I had ever seen, by far. There is no AC input and no fancy electrical equipment. This single piece of equipment is probably worth tens of thousands of dollars - and is sitting, unused, unable to be used, in its wrapping in a corner of the Zambian bush. The jungle will overtake it sooner or later. Then she showed me a large generator, also sitting in a room. She also mentioned that she had eight solar panels sitting at her house if we wanted to wire them for her. Ah yes, and when a woman came into the clinic in anaphylactic shock from a scorpion bite, they didn't have the proper medicine to treat her.

I wired the clinic to run off of the generator, taking the burden, and hopefully the temptation, off of our solar equipment. I was satisfied to see visible progress. The lights and the sockets will now all work - as long as the generator can be maintained and fuel provided (not too much of a hassle, actually). We parted ways, and as we left the clinic, I spied the egregious satellite dish. All I could do was sigh, and shake my head. On to the next clinic.

Nearly Half in the Bush

What better way to spend a hot, clear, Saturday morning than running through the bush? Yesterday a group of around 50 Zambians and Mzungu's made the trek out past Kafue town, and started running from the highway, up the surprisingly good tarmac road, towards the Kafue Power station 10.7 miles away on hilly road, involving 2000 ft of elevation gain (nearly a half marathon). It was a hilly and challenging course, to say the least.

Elevation profile of the run. Notice the first 4km offer a nice, unrelenting climb.

The run contrasted sharply with the last organized long run of mine - the Boston marathon ala 2005. Both well organized sporting events, one slightly larger than the other. Instead of the sidelines packed with cheering, merry-making individuals, were tall, green, silent trees. The occasional bunch of cattle stared at runners passing by, but with less wonder and bemusement than the few locals, who looked on, incredulous. Some greeted us with smiles, some with blank stares. There were no energetic crowds of friends jumping onto the race course for small stretches, or oodles of screaming girls at Wellesley College, halfway along, offering kisses to runners. Instead, five foot tall bags of charcoal lines a few parts of the road, waiting to be bought to heat homes and cook food, like soldiers at attention. A buddy of mine and I 'bandit' ran in Boston, hopping on after all the registered runners started, but were cheered on with the same enthusiasm and excitement. I had 'Looking' written on my chest, and my buddy had written 'Good' in nice big letters. Depending who was cheering for us, we were either Looking Good, or Good Looking, both of which kept continual smiles on our faces and urged us on to the end. Yesterday, the trees stood in silence, but the rolling hills and landscape provided endless views of rural Zambia, hardly developed, lush, and expansive.

A blast from the past. 'Looking' and 'Good' cruising in the background, surrounded by a shirtless crowd of friends that had joined us for a half mile or more near Wellesley College.

The small group of runners strung out quickly. I ran the majority of the race myself, contemplating the events of the week past, and gearing up for the challenges of the week upcoming. I would pass five and six year old Zambian children, often carrying loads of goods, miles from home, on their own, with not a worry in the world. A race organizer told a story about leaving her own children to man a water table last year. After driving away and realizing what she had done, she noted that her children were plenty old to be left alone in the bush by Zambian standards, but in the US, custody of her kids would likely be revoked.

I wish I had pictures to post here from the race - but was too focused on finishing to bother carrying a camera. And oh, the Zambian contingent smoked the Mzungu's, with the lead runner finishing in an hour and five minutes on the challenging course.