Time flies so quickly. It took me a moment to figure out the date. It didn't seem possible that today could already be the 16th.
We are back at Mo's in Chiredzi now. We left the village on Friday. Saturday morning we packed up and drove two hours into the bush where we followed elephants and slept with wildlife under the stars.
It has been so interesting to see the many sides of Zimbabwe. It's been wonderful. For the Zim's that we have connected with in the village, we are their only view of what America is.
A week ago today I was carrying a bucket of rocks on my head and swaddling a baby on my back. The women here are
so strong. They do everything. They fetch the water and rocks. they care for the children, they make the meals, they tidy the huts, they keep it together. Their role is so valuable and yet they see no appreciation. The culture here is very patriarchal. Most of the men are polygamist and the women are sold to the husbands when they are so young. Many (if not most) of the women have their first child around age 13 or 14. They're still babies themselves - at least in my American society and in my eyes.
Every single one of the women I met...they are all old souls. They are so wise and
so strong. I cannot get over the strength they have to hold this world in their hands. There is such high expectation of them and yet they
never stop laughing and smiling. Their comradery is so high and they are so united. Each one cares for each other's children and helps share the load. It brings new meaning to the saying "It takes a village."
Mama Maria and Mama Latah were chosen by Mr.Marumba -- the village head -- to be employed by us during our stay in the village. It was excellent for us to have someone help us cook and clean and it more so was a great way to help support the community without just giving money away and supporting the "hand out" mentality. I'm very grateful that the two of them were chosen for us. We all fell in love with them.
Without the help of these two women I'm not sure how we would have gotten along in the village; speaking for the women on my team, that is. They would come with us to the borehole and taught us how to walk with buckets on our heads. For the most part, women of the village were accepting of the women on our team but most do not speak English and at times were not so warm. Mama Maria was always around to look out for us. If she couldn't come with us to fetch water from a crowded borehole then she would send another woman for us.
Most women of the village thought it was hysterical to see white women pumping for water and it would put them even more over the edge to see us placing the buckets on our heads. Most of the time the teasing was all in good fun. For the most part, it was the first they'd ever seen a white person. To them, white people don't work. They would erupt with laughter but at the same time would come over and lend us a hand. Even with all the differences between us and the language barrier present - you could still feel the depth of connection among us. We were all women. Some children. We all were playing the same role and without realizing it, a stronger bond was formed for me. Quickly it clicked that while we were all so different...we were actually all the same.
I'm sitting here writing - still in Zimbabwe - listening to the sound of the sprinklers watering the yard and the vacuum skim across the surface of Mo's in-ground pool. It's crazy to have the view I do right now and to be thinking about the village and the women and girls who spend all day fetching buckets of water, sometimes from miles away. And I'm only a few hours of a car ride away.
A year ago today I was probably laying on some exotic beach in Greece in this moment. Now I am sitting at a picnic table in Mo Davy's beautiful yard in Chiredzi, Zimbabwe. I just returned from building a clinic in a remote village and spending the evenings camping with elephants and hippo's and lions. Where will I be next year?
