My tryst with mud in Zambia

Turning 40. Big milestone year. Too many distractions. People planning parties for me. What do I do? Take off to an unheard of village in Zambia. Why? To volunteer to help build mud houses for the community.

I have never volunteered abroad before, so the idea was exciting. Nervous too, but mostly exciting. The month of June started with me researching various volunteering options in various countries of the world. It took me many hours of research to finally narrow it down to Zambia. Why? No idea. I just wanted to go there. I have been to Africa many a times before, but never to Zambia. The thought of watching the Victoria Falls at the end of the trip fascinated me? Maybe. I wrote to the volunteer organization, got some details clarified, collected as little information as possible, since I wanted to go with an open mind and no preconceived notions, booked my tickets, and voila! All set to go.

Some four flights, many hours of stopovers, and a three hour horrid drive later, I arrived in the dry, arid, and dusty village of Mwandi in the western province of Zambia. It is a fishing village, I am told. The mighty Zambezi runs right next to the village. I check into my volunteer camp, meet the lovely lady who runs the place, get introduced to 3 student volunteers who have been there for a week now. After a quick briefing and an early dinner, I retire into my room, fully excited about starting work the next day. 

New day, new adventures, new possibilities. That was all that was going through my head. Breakfast of cereals done, we started walking towards the site of the first mud hut that we plan to build. It was for a large family. The matriach of the family came to greet us, no words spoken, just gestures. She did not know English, and we did not know Lozi, the local tribal language. That was not a problem at all, the mere gestures and smiles were enough for us to see how happy she was to meet us.

We get started with work, after being told what and how to do. What? All by hand? Are you serious? Yes. No equipment to even mix the mud. With great reluctance we started work, however after a few minutes, we behaved like children playing with Play-Doh for the first time. We mixed mud, carried large buckets of water, made walls, smoothened walls, paved the flooring, all with just mud and water. In the two weeks that I was volunteering in that village, we built two mud houses. A feat that I thought was never possible when I first arrived there. But at the end of it, I came back a happy puppy. A tingling feeling of happiness of being able to help two families, a feeling of satisfaction, a feeling of humility. Five random strangers / volunteers was all it took. We became a family, we worked together, we exchanged stories, we helped eachother, we ate together, missed our respective families together, and at the end of it all, build something everlasting together. 

At the end of my trip, I also had a chance to meet the wonderful circlers of LC 4, LC 8, The President, National Vice President, National Secretary of Zambia. We exchanged pins, we talked about their national projects, we talked about our families, and we talked about cultures in our respective countries. It was so amazing to see this wonderful group of women come together to meet me. Truly thankful.

They say that if you travel far enough you will meet yourself. I did. To a continent far away from home, to a country that I had never visited before, to a village that was absolutely basic, to people who did not speak my language, and to a community that was in need of something as important as a house. Will I travel to volunteer again? Of course yes. Absolutely. One thing that I am sure I will be doing again and again.