Gonzaga-in-Zambezi

Each morning, I wake up to the sound of Taylor’s red speaker filling the kitchen with a different song, choices ranging from Noah Kahan to Norah Jones, Jack Johnson and more. At the beginning of the spring semester, ZamFam ’26 created a collaborative playlist for us all to add music to. While the twenty-two-hour playlist seemed insignificant at the time, it has quickly become a soundtrack for our time in Zambia. “Electric Love” playing in our headphones on the bush plane, Meg singing along to “Willing and Able” as she makes breakfast, and “You’re so Vain” making an appearance during one of our slow-runner’s club runs are just a few moments that I won’t soon forget. However, our interaction with music has extended far beyond this extensive playlist.

On our safari in Botswana, Meg, Sarah, Taylor, Emi, Lauren, and I jokingly created a song which was quickly and continually shared with everyone around us, including Jeff, the guides, strangers, and the rest of ZamFam, all of whom indulged us. Chef P, the man who made dinner for our camp, played several original songs under the name Jay Bless music, utilizing it as an opportunity to uniquely share his story of struggles but also gratitude. When we landed in Zambezi, we were greeted by singing students from Chilenga Primary School, and at mass the next morning we serenaded everyone with a Lunda song we had attempted to learn the night before. Even last night, we fell asleep to blasting music from the bars in the market and woke up this morning to the same noise as we trekked to elderly aerobics at 6am.

While some of these experiences have left me struggling for breath from laughter, I have also noticed the special and unique role music plays in life, intensifying moments of joy or struggle while simultaneously connecting us with others. It extends far beyond language barriers or cultural differences, something I have discovered is especially crucial for our time in Zambezi. It supports us on our journey without controlling our path, even expressing emotions that our own words cannot.

The other day we read a chapter from How to Know a Person by David Brooks, in which he discusses the act of accompaniment. What struck me about his writing was how he utilized music to ground one of his points:

The pianist accompanies the singer. They are partners, making something together, but the accompanist is in the supportive role, subtly working to embellish the beauty of the song and help the singer shine. The accompanist is sensitive to what the singer is doing, begins to get a feel for the experience she is trying to create.

Music is a foundational aspect of my identity, from concerts to car sing-alongs and my passion for guitar, I cannot remember a time when I did not love music wholeheartedly. Music is inclusive, inviting everyone to the table regardless of their background or status, fostering a sense of connection and community with those around us. It does not expect anything from its listeners, it does not push them to conform to certain expectations, but rather it encourages them to embrace authenticity and the joy of shared humanity. Just last night, I watched Joe’s face light up as he finally met a Zambian who owned a cello he could play, and earlier this week some of us danced along to “Party in the USA” at the market, with several Zambian women joining in.

Empathy and accompaniment are deeply significant to me, as they are often a struggle to find at home in Dallas, TX. I have witnessed division and dehumanization deeply entrenched within within my community, and as a result it has often been a great source of frustration and isolation. Rather than working to support people where they are at, I have seen harmful expectations and aggressive pressure forced onto those who are unable to meet the unrealistic standards.

I have quickly discovered during my time in Zambezi the importance of “signing onto another person’s plan,” as Brooks describes, which sometimes even looks like starting class 15 minutes late each morning because people in Zambezi operate on “Zambian time.” While I find some common cultural norms confusing at times, I am learning to appreciate others’ journey and decisions, despite conflicting views I might hold. I cannot possibly begin to understand the nuances and complications of others’ experiences that shape their choices, and it would be arrogant of me to assume otherwise.

Unlike humans, music perfectly embodies the act of accompaniment by transcending any sense of ego or self-centeredness, choosing to let go of the reins while still engaging to support, uplift, and encourage others. It does not ask questions but sits in the challenging spaces with those in struggle. It is not a transactional relationship, but it provides attention to those in need regardless of personal beliefs. I believe we all have a lot to learn from music.

Hayden Smith
ZamFam ‘26
Class of 2029

Mom, Dad, and Hudson, I miss you guys so much and I cannot wait to crush some Mexican food when I get back. We should try to make our way down to Big Bend this summer or at least to a new bookstore a few hours away. Also, Dad keep me updated on Phoebe Bridgers and Radiohead. Love you so much and say hi to Riggins for me!

Allie, Silver Springs was playing last night, and I was thinking about Get it Gorl and our dramatic sing-alongs. I also explained to everyone what the dream day in college looks like, you know what I’m talking about. I can’t wait to see you and talk till 2am when we should definitely be asleep. I hope your sleep schedule is better now that you’re not living with me 🙂

Valencia, I tried poloni the other day which is like a hot dog and then we were all talking about Seds which made me think about the absurd number of nights we ended up there. Also, Clare you need to come to Zambia because I do not think we have stopped laughing since we’ve been here and we did elderly aerobics this morning which I know you would’ve absolutely loved.

My Texas besties, I am so ready for some summer sunsets and late night debriefs at Sonic and Whataburger. We need to update our bingo card and find things to do this summer that aren’t eating and shopping, I’m literally begging.

Our safari guides in Botswana have a back-pocket full of tidbits they know will impress clients. One of their go-tos is the catalog of collective nouns: a pride of lions, a sound of warthogs, a twist of kudu a parliament of owls, a funeral of marabout storks, and so on. Interestingly, a collection of giraffes is named based on the context in which they are congregating. When walking leisurely, they are a journey of giraffes. They’re a tower when standing to graze on flora or scan for threats. If running, they are a stampede. I’ve been thinking about this in relation to our students. We all know that they are—in Spokane, where they hold doors for one another, share complaints about the Cog, change their majors, and paint their faces to cheer one another on—called a kennel of Zags.

But out in the wild, in the world outside our campus, they must be a Zig of Zags. In twenty years on faculty at Gonzaga, I’ve been in awe of generations of students who take their humanistic, liberal arts education out it into the world. I’ve traveled with students to the U.S.-Mexico border, to Chicago and Denver and Seattle and Washington, D.C. I’ve met them in Florence, and for the last twelve years here in Zambezi. And, I’ve had the pleasure of following from afar as they go on to graduate school and professional careers, as they start families, and as they become leaders for change in their communities long after they leave Spokane.  The throughline in all of these experiences is that our students are careful thinkers, always pushing themselves to grow and learn, willing and able to adapt to changing conditions. I see this in my classes at home, and it’s perhaps amplified here, as students navigate their time in Zambezi with curiosity, empathy, and a thoroughgoing drive to center dignity and love.

This year’s students are no exception. James and I got a taste of this last fall when we interviewed them, and our early assessments were confirmed as we got to know them during the Spring semester. But knowing them as they learn about Zambezi is not the same as knowing them as they come to know Zambezi. Cade and I have had the profound joy and privilege of knowing what you, their loved ones and friends, know: this is a caring, thoughtful, deeply insightful, resilient, and adaptive group of Zags. They adapted in big ways before we even arrived in Zambia: shifting expectations when our flights were rerouted due to our government’s attacks on Iran, and welcoming Cade at SeaTac with warmth and openness after learning that James wouldn’t be able join us on this journey.

On the ground, they’ve leaned on one another when they had to wait for hours before riding for even more hours as we made our to Livingstone. They hyped one another up as they took their leaps off the Batoka Bridge. They’ve asked meaningful questions about their roles and purposes here, about how language and colonial history inform our presence in Zambezi, and about the global disparity in access to high quality public healthcare (both here and at home). They’ve shed more than a tear or two when hearing your “voices” in the comments. They’ve gone without water, eaten with their hands, embarrassed themselves in Lunda and Luvale, and learned to say “yes,” “no,” and “I don’t know” in probably more ways than Cade and I realize. They’ve checked in on one another, accompanied one another in the market, collaborated on the correct decision NOT to climb the water tower. They’ve prayed for you as you’ve been assailed by the firewall, and they’ve sought knowledge about Zambezi by spending time with local community members. They’ve also been vulnerable about their homesickness and their anxieties around not wantig to be disrespectful to Zambians, their anxieties around teaching and learning well, their anxieties around wanting to do all of this “right.” And we haven’t even been in Zambezi a week!

I’m eager to watch as they continue to grow over the next two-and-a-half weeks, and I’m equally grateful that you’ve all said yes to allowing me and Cade to share in this experience with your wonderful loved ones. Irrespective of what we encounter, I know this crew of Zags will zig with wisdom, care, and love.

Kisu mwane,

Jeff Dodd, Associate Professor, English Department
Cade Christensen, Coordinator, Intensive English Program

I did marching band for years in high school, and we often talked about our balance point in marching. You must find your balance point, before you are able to move on to more complex techniques. I’ve learned that that is very similar to life. You must remember to go back to the basics before you are able to deal with and try more complex things. Going on this trip, I didn’t really know what to expect. Family and friends would ask me what I was looking forward to most on this trip, and I honestly didn’t have an answer, as I didn’t know what to expect. I had seen photos of Zambezi from years past and knew some of the stereotypes about Africa but didn’t know anything else. However, what I didn’t expect was how some of my stereotypes would play out, as well as how I would experience stereotypes related to being an American in Zambia.

Being a white, middle-class female from the Seattle area, I’ve never been in the minority. There have always been people who look like me, speak the same languages as me, and have had similar life experiences to me. Being in Zambia, I have experienced a feeling I’ve never felt before. Meeting Zambians has been fantastic, but after each interaction, I am left with lingering thoughts. They ask me where I am from, and I respond with America. I have been met with varying responses. Some of these include, “Please bring me back to America so I can have a better life” to “I love Americans, so I will give you a discount” to “If you give me money, I can provide for my family,” and these interactions have left me torn.

Although we are in the minority here, it is a different type of minority than being in the minority in the United States. We are seen as powerful, and wealthy. This means that although we are just here to learn and work on our teaching skills, we are idolized just for being from America. Coming on this trip, we knew that this was not a mission trip in the slightest. However, some of the people that I have interacted with have almost expected us to be on a mission, and in some ways, they expect us to save them. This feeling has left me feeling icky, and I have had to balance the feelings of guilt, alongside a lot of confusion.

I’ve had this recurring thought and issue of balancing throughout my time in Zambia. Whether balancing emotions, or balancing physically, the theme is constantly occurring. When we first landed in Lusaka, one of my first thoughts was, “Woah! The women balance things on their head! I thought that was just a stereotype.” However, along this journey, I have learned that this is not a stereotype, but rather a way of transportation, culture, and truly a science. After seeing this practice daily, I’ve grown a huge deal of respect for this aspect of the culture.

When visiting the market, we see a variety of people, and they all have different thoughts about Americans. For example, when buying chitenge at the market, they upcharge us, as they know we can afford it. While still extremely affordable to us, it’s interesting to see how much of a difference in price there is simply based on racial or national identity (usually Zambians pay about 35 Kwacha for cotton, while I paid 75 Kwacha for it). These mental balances of being seen as wealthy because I don’t look like the people here leave me with a sense of shame. Throughout this trip, we’ve had to adapt to various physical balances as well. Some of these include balancing our bags on the bush planes, balancing ingredients when cooking meals, and balancing on the edge before making the choice to jump off a bridge or glide along a zipline. No matter the day or the challenges, the theme of balance keeps occurring in various forms.

Our time in Zambezi has already been nothing short of complex, but I know I have my fellow group of Zags to remind me of the basics. They remind me to be present in the moment, to make time for conversation, and to allow room to make mistakes and grow. I hope to continue to try more complex things during my time in Zambezi, knowing that I have this group to fall back on to help me balance the challenges, moments of growth, and the discomforts.

With lots of love,

Katie Gilkinson
Zam Fam 2026
Gonzaga Class of 2028

Notes to my friends and family:

Mom-I miss you so much and I can’t wait to share pictures with you and tell you funny stories. I miss our impromptu chats, and sending random pictures of the dogs, or random things I see. I’ve found joy in experiencing the markets and know you would have had so much fun in the markets as well. I’m excited to give you a big hug when I see you at the airport. I have been well fed here, so don’t worry about that! Give Karen and my puppies a big kiss for me (especially Dukey…)

Berto: I hope you had a great birthday. I got to fly the bush plane for about 15 minutes on our way to Zambezi (it was a Cessna 210). Your YouTube videos ACTUALLY came in handy (who would have thought…), and I liked being able to know what different buttons meant. Also-thank you for putting my car on the trickle charger!

To any other family and friends reading this post: Thank you for following along! I’m super excited to share stories and pictures when I get back. I miss being able to talk to everyone frequently, but I know that you all are doing great!

As many of my fellow ZamFam members have already talked about, we had the opportunity to go on a safari in Botswana about a week ago. Although the animals were truly amazing, and I felt like I was living out my childhood dream of being David Attenborough, the thing that stuck with me the most out of everything we saw was a huge Baobab tree. The Baobab trees can live thousands of years. They are true witnesses to history, all the while continuing to grow. Bit by bit, they change, even if it is unnoticeable through the years, if you zoom out, the magnitude of that growth is breathtaking.

If you know me, you understand I am not the kind of person that likes to stay still. For as long as I can remember, I have been moving at breakneck speed. I have always been complemented for my drive, my willingness to throw myself into everything I do. That quality has already proved itself valuable this trip. However, now that we are in Zambezi, settling into a new way of life, our pace has slowed. We are all beginning to fall into a comfortable routine, teaching our classes and going to the hospital or school. As we all slow down, I find myself feeling impatient. When is this life-changing perspective shift going to take place? When do I start to grow into the better person that I want to become using what I have learned here? With these questions, doubts also begin to creep in. Am I doing this wrong? Am I not doing enough? What if I walk away from this trip as the same person that my mom dropped off at the airport all those days ago? I worry that the expectations I had for myself and for this trip might be falling flat. All those conversations we had in class this past spring about managing expectations were beginning to make a lot more sense….

Today, Meg, Graley, Lily, and I spent our first morning observing at Zambezi District Hospital. After our allotted 3 hours, I was grappling with a lot of feelings, but those doubts had quieted. Although I had difficulty coming to terms with the condition of the hospital and the access to necessary medication and supplies, I was blown away by the interactions I witnessed. The doctors, nurses, patients, and family members were more than just people seeking or giving care, they existed in a beautifully interconnected community with one another. All the patients in a ward are in the same room, with their beds lining the walls. At first, I had initially attributed this to merely a lack of space and resources, but after seeing the ante-natal patients sitting with each other, laughing, and sharing stories, I realized that this set up also meant that no patient had to experience their pain alone. Some time in the pediatric ward confirmed this community-oriented approach when a chorus of laughter from everyone in the room was not an uncommon event.

This interconnectedness was on par with what I have come to understand about Zambians. Witnessing this foreign way of medicine as a community affair was incredible, but even more so because all four of us were welcomed in with open arms. I finally began to understand the merit of slowing down. Even though it may have taken longer to see all of his patients, Dr. Mulongoti engaged everyone in the pediatric ward in our conversations, which seemed to provide a lot of comfort to the family members. He created a support system for these families, encouraging them to accompany one another in their separate journeys.

This experience seemed to operationalize the excerpt of David Brooks’ book How to Know a Person we reflected on as a group a few nights ago. A quote by David Whyte in the excerpt has continued to stick with me. He observed that the true gift of friendship is “the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another, to have walked with them and to have believed in them, sometimes just to have accompanied them for however brief a span, on a journey impossible to accomplish alone.” I felt this gift when Prudence, a nurse from the maternity ward who’s determined to teach us Luvale, brought us to the ante-natal ward to practice our very bad pronunciation with the patients because she herself was not familiar enough with the language. I felt this gift when Meg started making funny faces at a pediatric patient to make him smile. I felt this gift waking up bright and early to go for a run as a part of the affectionately named “Slow Runners Club.” I continue to feel this gift as I walk alongside my ZamFam as we try to navigate the mistakes, triumphs, and complexities of our new home for the next three weeks.

I am beginning to understand that this gift of friendship and accompaniment is felt most strongly in the slower moments. I am not going to be able to flip a switch and find all the answers I am looking for, but I can savor these slow moments, moments of growth and change, however minute it might be. In thinking about the Baobab tree we saw at the start of this trip, if we were to visit it on the way back to the United States, it would look the same as it did when we saw I the first time. However, the small impressions made and growth done in those slow moments over its lifetime is what created the beautiful tree that stands today.

Emi Gerwing
Proud member of ZamFam ’26, Class of 2028

To my dad, Marcy, and Miles:
I love and miss you all. We had popcorn last night and I thought of our popcorn movie nights. The health group had a dance party before heading to the hospital and I missed our dance parties on the table. I can’t wait to tell you everything.

 To my mama and Mark Mark:

I love you so much and miss you guys every day. Mama, I know you would absolutely love all of the shatenge fabric and I wish I could introduce you to the tailors we have met here. Mark, I really wish you could meet Dr. Mulongoti because I know you two would get along. Thank you both for being my cheerleaders, your comments mean the world to me, and I love starting every day with a few tears and reminders of home.

To Elli:

I hope your interview went well (I know it did because you are a rockstar). Sending love and good vibes and I am sooooooo excited to see you in July.

To my friends:

I hope you guys are ready for the devious debrief that will take place when I get back. I miss you guys. Keep being your lovely, awesome selves!

Messages:

From Katie G.:

Happy Birthday Berto! I hope you’re enjoying pepperoni and chocolate! Love you!

From Jeff to all readers: We are well aware of the firewall issues some of you seem to be having. This has never happened before, so we’re sorry it’s creating an obstacle for some of you. We’ve asked GU’s ITS to investigate it and explore potential workarounds. Thanks for your patience.

In one of my classes last semester, we talked about cycles – how we often find safety and comfort in our daily and weekly routines. For me, there is also anxiety. Anxiety that I’m not taking advantage of all the amazing experiences that life has to offer. Anxiety that I will trap myself in the ease of my routine and never push myself into anything uncomfortable. Fear that I will get stuck in a cycle and then realize one day that there are so many things I missed out on, because I was comfortable never changing.

I think I can safely say that for the past week and a half, and for the coming three weeks, I am pushing myself out of my usual routines. Not only am I on a new continent, in a new country, I’m with a somewhat random group of people (whom I have come to have so much love and gratitude for), while my friends and family are continuing on with their lives thousands of miles away – and reading this blog of course!

This morning before breakfast and our lessons, there were many blank stares as people sat in the common room and contemplated the coming day – the beginning of a new cycle and routine for us. The lessons that we get to teach here in the Zambezi community will lend some regularity to our days, but continue to provide dozens of opportunities to plan, adjust our plans, and then adjust our plans again as we adapt to the community members’ wants and needs. Today, we education students got our first glimpse into Chilenga Primary and Secondary school, and a few people got to see Zambezi Boarding School. Our health group got a tour of the hospital, and everyone got a chance to teach their first community lesson.

The unfortunate part of breaking out of routine is that it creates more fear and uncertainty. Instead of fear of being stuck in a cycle, it is the fear of something unknown. Like many of my fellow Zags, I like to know what I’m doing – that’s why I like my routines. This trip has been a crash course in facing uncertainty and learning to not be quite so scared of it. In my two days in Zambezi (and at the infamous curio market trips in Livingstone and Lusaka), I have found myself in conversations that have me sweating, heart racing because I have no idea what to say or do. Yesterday, Jeff and Taylor were kind enough to create task lists, split us into groups, and send us on our way with two hours to complete our list. The first thing for me, Liv, and Hayden, was to “pick six lemons after asking permission.” Led by a helpful herd of children, we walked to three different homes, knocked on the doors, and after promoting our community classes, awkwardly tried to slip into conversation the fact that we wanted six lemons. We eventually got our lemons (courtesy of the kids), but only after several rejections and stilted conversations.

Part of why I came on this trip was because I wanted to do something out of my regular routine and force myself to be uncomfortable. Well, I have definitely succeeded. Being uncomfortable and uncertain never seems to get any easier. However, each interaction I have teaches me a little bit more about how to react to my own uncertainty and discomfort. Looking back at all of the interactions I’ve had gives me confidence that even though I sometimes walk away cringing at some of the things I just said or the awkward silences I was unable to fill, I still made it out, hopefully a little bit wiser, and a little more prepared for the next round of interaction.

Amidst all this uncertainty has been the certainty that I made the right choice in going on this program. Even as I stumble my way through social interactions, the moments of genuine connection make every other moment of awkwardness and uncertainty worthwhile. Whether it is sitting on the porch with John and some fellow Zags talking about Zambian politics, or creating a special sign to go on the door to my room with Hayden and Sarah, laughter and insight are a constant of this unpredictable cycle I have found myself in. The constants in our days – our breakfasts together, reflection at night – prepare me for the exciting newness (and uncertainty!) that each day brings. Whether it is collecting six lemons, haggling for fridge magnets at the curio market, or unexpectedly going without water for half the day yesterday, this group, and the community around us, helps me face it with grace, confidence (or at least the appearance of confidence), and gratitude. Life in Zambezi is so different from anything I could have anticipated, but it has already taught me to anticipate the inevitable not-knowing with positivity rather than anxiety.

Hannah Sznewajs
ZamFam ‘26
Gonzaga Class of 2028

To the Greek Lemers: Yes, you finally get your blog shout out. Now everyone knows how weird you are. I love all of you so much, and I can’t wait to hear about everything you’ve gotten up to while I’m away. Boys, I found a Hardy Boys book in the storeroom today, and it made me think of you. Mom, we made French toast for breakfast, and it was nearly as good as our Mother’s Day feast. Dad, the fridge magnet negotiating in the market was for you, so I hope you’re excited. Claire, I hope you’re faring okay after graduation, and that the road trip home goes smoothly. I wish I could share everything with all of you in real time, but you can look forward to a big debrief when I get back.

• To my other Boulder fam, I love you all and miss you. Looking forward to spending time with you this summer!
• To my friends and other family: I can’t wait to update you on everything we have done! Love you, and so excited to catch up when I get back.

Messages

From Mary Pearl: Happy birthday dad! Love you so much, hope you have the best day. There’s a card for you on the fridge.

From Meg: Happy graduation, Phoebe! I love you so much and can’t believe you’re a high schooler. See you soon Bo.

If you know me, then you know my obsession with sounds, whether playing the violin, singing with my friends, or making voice memos to preserve memories. I am not exactly sure where it started, but sounds have been a defining feature in my life. I have so many auditory memories ingrained in my mind from my childhood – the pouring rain hitting the ground outside my childhood bedroom, the crickets chirping outside at the Skoot, my second home (iykyk), or the sound of the gravel road leading back to my home. This trip to Zambia has been full of new sounds with no of shortage of auditory memories; I even experienced some crickets outside my safari tent that reminded me of those at the Skoot. Because of that, I wanted to include a few bits of audio in this post, so click on the links when you see them (and maybe turn up your volume on the first two.

A few days ago, we got the opportunity to go on a two-day safari. Our guide, Tizuh, shared his knowledge and passion for wildlife for those two full days in Chobe national park. Going on safari has been a dream of mine since early childhood. I have always loved animals and wanted so dearly to see them in their natural habitat. What came as a surprise, was my fascination with the sounds and all these animals made to one another – and the vital importance of them.

The safari was a reminder that reliance on those around you is an important part of the vibrant world we get to be a part of. Tizuh, our guide, told us about the Guinea Fowl, and how these animals have a warning call that tells the surrounding animals a predator is nearby. At about 2am the following morning, I awoke to lions right outside our tent, calling each other and communicating their locations to each other.

There was one experience that stood out for me. The morning of our second day, we immediately encountered the same pride of lions we spent time with the previous day. Here is my memory of that morning: These are the sounds of the lions’ bonding with each other and our time spent alongside them. Imagine the water lapping against the shore, with the birds chirping from various surroundings. The wind is mellow, yet present and whistling in the trees. You can hear the lions quietly communicate through little roars and morning sighs. This is the memory I hold of those few minutes. Throughout this journey, I have been reminded of the three words: humanize, accompany, complicate. The safari was an incredible metaphor for our continued experience here is Zambezi.

Humanize– while “humanize” may not be the perfect word to use with the animals of Chobe, throughout the safari I was reminded that we were in these animals’ space. While many may visit and see the lions, giraffes, and crocodiles as a spectacle, it is important to change our approach. While we were on the water safari, a boat near us got too close to a grown crocodile. The crocodile responded by jumping at them and slithering into the deep water. This could be viewed as a cool video caught or a laugh to be had after (as it was by those on the boat), it is important to remember that these animals share feelings of fear and being threatened too. The crocodile was scared and felt disrespected, so it responded in that way. I think this story can be a necessary lesson for those of us entering Zambezi (and everyone reading :). Our experience of Zambezi will contain difficult events, uncomfortable interactions, and moments of frustration. It is important to remember why we are here – to learn from the people of Zambezi and share what we have to offer, while respecting the life they live.

Accompany– the evening and morning with the lions was a prime demonstration of what it means to accompany. As we entered the pride’s space, the lions slowly surrounded us. Tizuh explained that the lions will spread out as a protection tactic – if one is attacked, then others are safe and can defend if needed. Words – or in this case roars – may not have always been shared between each other, but the steady presence of each one of the lions and their willingness to defend was a form of accompaniment. At one point, the young lions were playing back and forth with each other, which Tizuh explained as a crucial way of strengthening their bonds with each other. I think that we can emulate this mindset while in Zambezi, and wherever we go in life. Bonds and relationships are vital for our continued prosperity. Although a single lion is a strong creature, it is much stronger in a pack. Or as the Zambian proverb says: you can go fast alone, but you can go far together. As we enter the next stage in our journey here in Zambia, teaching classes and learning from the community, accompaniment is becoming more and more important. Creating relationships, trust, and shared memories together with the community is very necessary for our classes and learning to succeed. Additionally, co-teaching in the classes and learning in the hospital, are impossible to do alone. Leaning on my fellow health students and the incredible medical staff in the hospital are going to become an even more important group of people to accompany and rely on. As we continue our journey, I am proud to continue to accompany those I interact with and to ask for support from those around me.

Complicate– my expectation for the safari experience turned out to be very different than I had imagined. After the water safari, Cade and I had a deep conversation about the complexities that were present in our water experience. Like the story of the crocodile snapping at the boat, our invasion of the animal’s space was a common theme throughout our time on the water. I had a tough time digesting this, as I had wanted to have the safari experience for so long and had formulated an expectation in my mind, but aspects of it felt wrong – complicated. The game drive felt quite a bit better, as Tizuh and the guides put a lot of effort into respecting the animal’s space. Despite that, I still had a hard time balancing between being conscious of the space we were invading and also being in the present so I can remember this opportunity that we get to take part in. Additionally, there was a constant power dynamic between the Guides and our group of Zags. We did our best to interact and share the experience with Tizuh though shared laughs, learning about his life, and sharing our snacks. Still, our guides are employed in an entertainment and tourism industry upon which they depend for their livelihood. As we transition to our time in Zambezi, we continue to experience complexities as we address our privilege in reflection, interactions with the locals, and a new living space. We must learn to live in that, sit with it, and reflect upon it.

My hope is to share my humanity with the Zambezi people and experience theirs, grow and learn in the complexities on this journey, and accompany my fellow Zags and the locals during our time here.

Graley Sanders
ZamFam ‘26
GU Class of 2028

To Squid: MP and I miss you all, and frequently think of you during our time here.

• Claire: I love your comments and am impressed with your foreshadowing the voice memos 😊. Sarah, MP, and I want you to keep these comments coming.
• Sarah: Every time I hear a pun, I think of you and miss you.
• Lauren: I got a Zambia soccer Jersey, and I thought of you. I almost got you a gunner’s jersey, but MP and I realized you probably had them all 😉
• Eleanor: Isa, Lauryn, and I got a lesson in a traditional dance from a group of teenage girls yesterday. I would not say it went very successfully for me but thought about how good you would be at it.
• Siena: I have thought of you many times during our time here, and how much you would love to sit and have a spontaneous conversation with some of the locals here.

To my Family: I love and miss you all so so much. Pops, I “flew” the bush plane for like 15 minutes yesterday morning and thought of you and your fascination with planes. Missing you. Mom, I have gotten several random hugs from strangers during my time here and am missing your hugs so much. Finn, we stayed a night in Chobe national park in a tent. I thought of you and how much I wish I could share this experience with you some day. Love you all so much, and give Billie a kiss for me.

I’ve always been fascinated by the way places look. My imagination and curiosity always involved different places, making up a person and what their house looks like, how they get to work, how downtown looks. This goes hand in hand with my interest in geography and the game GeoGuessr. I’m also a chronic Google Maps browser, sometimes just finding random things and odd attractions (did you know that the world’s largest thermometer is somewhere in rural southern California? The town name eludes me, and I unfortunately can’t check Google Maps). One of the reasons I love history and museums is because it gives a glimpse into what someone’s home, city, or country looked like in a bygone era somewhere across the world.

I feel like it always stopped at the visual, or at least I’ve only had the opportunity to explore the visual. Flying over Zambia in the front seat of a Cessna 258, I was transfixed by all of the rural communities we passed, the footprints of the buildings, and the paths between them. Every travel day so far, I’ve been one of the most awake travelers, just drinking in the new places. On bus rides, I was peeking into alleyways, trying to catch a view of the streets. In Lusaka and Livingstone, I was so interested in what the various neighborhoods looked like, how the market was laid out, and obviously what the view of Victoria Falls would be. On the safari, I kept an eye out for what plants and animals I could see. But that was the thing. It was all curiosity about what the place looked like, not as much how it felt.

This initially continued yesterday as I caught sight of Zambezi for the first time from the plane. I stared at the runway, the streets, picked out the market and imagined people’s walks from their homes to the bustling strip of metal roofs. As soon as we landed, however, and were greeted by around a hundred people with songs and performances, my fascination, curiosity, and focus shifted from the visual, logistical interest in the town to how it felt, the people, and the community. We walked to the convent holding the hands of the masses of kids that had come to greet us. I then spent an hour with Isa, Mary Pearl, and Jeff dutifully following Mama Katendi around the market with a grocery bag, hoping to be honored by her placing an item in my bag over the others. I was thinking how it felt in addition to taking in how it looked, which is something I can’t figure out how to put into words just yet.

Today, we went to mass. Again, initially I focused on the construction, how it was almost a cross shape, the blue walls, and the overwhelming smell of incense making it hard to breathe. Then, as the choir started singing and the community came to their feet, and announcements went on and on, I started to focus more on how it felt to be in there, and to focus on the people. Near the end of the service, we got up in front and introduced ourselves and our classes. The congregation was very welcoming but seemed unenthused. We then sang a song we had learned the previous night in Lunda. You could tell just how much this changed the perception of our group in the community, and left me hoping I can continue focusing on the feelings and people in a room in addition to the place they’re in. After the service, we stuck around outside and tried to meet new people. Most of my previous interactions with Zambians have either come from a vendor trying to sell me something or someone I’ll never see again after our brief exchange in passing. This was different. This was a community I will be learning from and living with for the next 3 weeks. When I’ve traveled in the past, its always just been the tourist activities, which promotes this “how things look” mindset. Now that we are out of the tourist’s Zambia, away from the vacationing Floridian couples who are shocked that Zambians speak English, I feel good. Nervous and completely unprepared and out of my depth, but excited and ready to look to people and not just places in our new host community in Zambezi.

Joe Olson
ZamFam ‘26
GU class of 2029

For my loved ones:

Lily, I hope you’re still finding joy seeing friends and family and hanging out with Rosie! Miss you!! You’re one of my favorite people on earth, and I can’t wait for our month debrief when I get back!

Mom, Dad, and Xan I miss you guys! I hope Mom and Allie are teaming up and picking terrible movies for you Dad. I know you’re probably used to it by now. Say hi to Nar and Francis for me!

Also, Laith I’m not sure if you’re actually reading this, but happy late birthday! You always send me pictures of interesting books from crazy bookstores in other countries, so I was excited I was able to return the favor. I did not buy them unfortunately.

Love you guys.

Hannah says: Congrats on graduation Claire! I wish I could be with you! Love you!

Noah says: Happy Birthday to my mom! I hope you’re having a good day and not going crazy without me!

A few days ago, while I was journaling, Taylor reminded me about a concept from our African American religion class. After spending a few minutes reminiscing on our professor’s incredible enthusiasm and what she would do if she were here in Zambia, we remembered Dr. Clark presenting the idea of life enhancing and life diminishing powers as a naturally existing balance within the universe. She described it by talking about a toddler so full of life and energetic (life enhancing) but also so draining and exhausting at the same time (life diminishing). The more that I sat with this idea, the more I realized that it is not simply a religious framework, but a way of understanding how we move through the world and what we give to the people around us.

While most people see life enhancing power as loud and dramatic, it can also exist on a smaller scale. Sometimes it is as simple as making someone feel seen. Sometimes it is trust. Sometimes it allows you to be vulnerable enough to admit fear, uncertainty, or dependence on others. Life diminishing power can emerge when we isolate ourselves, close ourselves off emotionally, or try to carry everything alone.

Before this trip, I mostly viewed vulnerability as a weakness, despite endlessly hearing pro-vulnerability propaganda in CLP. I liked feeling self-sufficient. I liked believing I could handle everything on my own. But traveling across Zambia with a group of people for an entire month has challenged that instinct in ways I could never prepare for. There is something about being far away from home, out of my routines, and constantly encountering new experiences that stripped away any illusion that I can exist independently.

Yesterday, standing at the edge of Victoria Falls, preparing to swing over the gorge, I confronted that truth in a very physical way. There is a moment before you jump where every instinct in your body tells you not to move. My mind searched for control, for certainty, for a guarantee that nothing could go wrong. But eventually you choose to stay frozen at the edge, or you surrender yourself to the experience.

What struck me the most afterwards was not the adrenaline itself, but the trust it required. Trust in the people securing the ropes. Trust in the encouragement from the group around me. Trust in my own ability to survive the fear. Trust that Mary Pearl and I would step off the platform at exactly the same time. In a strange way, jumping forced me to confront how much of life depends on relationships and interdependence. We are constantly held up by other people, even when we pretend we are standing alone.           

This realization connects directly to the idea of life enhancing power. Throughout this trip, I have started to notice how much power exists in community and openness. Some of the moments that have felt the most meaningful have not been the “big” moments, but all of the smaller ones; making animal noises on a ridiculously long bus ride, sharing a room not only with friends but also with mosquitos and a lizard (named Maurice), laughing at Jeff’s sole desire to see one type of bird on the Safari (and nothing else), or passing out on an airplane runway in front of approximately 100 people. These moments create life. They strengthen something invisible between us all.

At the same time, I have also become more aware of how easy it is to diminish life within ourselves and in others. Fear can do that. Pride can do that. The need to appear composed at all times can do that. When we refuse vulnerability, we sometimes refuse connection as well, even from those most important to us. And without connection, something essential begins to shrink and boy does it shrink fast.

As we descend into Zambezi, I think one of the biggest lessons I am carrying with me is that growth is not always about becoming stronger in the traditional sense. Sometimes growth is learning how to lean on others without shame. Sometimes it is allowing yourself to be changed by people, placed, and experiences instead of trying to control them. Sometimes it is understanding that courage is not the absence of fear, but a willingness to move forward while trusting that you will not do it alone.

And maybe that begins with allowing ourselves to be fully human first.

I love you all to the moon and back a million times never stopping.

Samantha Cornfeld

Zam Fam ‘26

Mom and Dad – Missing you endlessly, always. The good thing about the struggle bus is that buses always have multiple stops and opportunities to hop off.

Katherine – stay away from my bed and make sure that Megan stays away from my closet. I have exciting tea that can’t be shared on the blog because of “lurkers” (iykyk)

Lulu – Have the best time playing at state, I am so proud of you! Make sure to nail somebody at the net for me (and don’t apologize for it!)

Anders – I heard you barely beat Kate in tennis the other day. That’s embarrassing. Couldn’t be me. Don’t worry, you have lots of time to improve before I get home. Currently also just got a notification that Jane has to use the bathroom . . . you better get on that. I love you lots!

Juju L – I hope Glacier was the adventure of a lifetime and that you are not too tired of it and will go back with me next year. No worries about the roommate situation! A quick medical emergency among arrival meant that Jeff was more than happy to leave us in each other’s care. The real question is which one of us passed out on the airplane tarmac?

Juju G. – I am counting on you for a full rundown on everything that has happened to Taylor Frankie Paul since I’ve left (that girl can’t seem to catch a break). I miss your comforting presence and ma super hype to go farmers market-ing with you in Seattle; the markets are definitely a different vibe here.

To everybody reading along with us, your support means so much more than we could ever express.

Much love
Zam Fam ’26-7 (hehe)  

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, JUMP!” This was the last thing we heard before plummeting down towards the water below us, trusting the rope would catch us.

Today 17 of us jumped off Batoka Bridge with the mist from Victoria Falls on our faces and adrenaline pumping through our veins. Standing on the platform, looking down at the river 111m below, my heart raced, and I questioned my decision for a split second. With Lily tight to my side, we stepped off the platform. As we dropped and swung at the bottom, our adrenaline and fear washed away. We admired the beauty around us and talked about how glad we were that we did it despite being nervous. This trip has been full of leaps of faith, not just when jumping off bridges.

Even though it has only been a week, Zambia has challenged us to jump in, in more ways than bungee jumping. Time and time again, we have jumped into new experiences and situations that are not always easy. For me, learning to adjust to a slower paced lifestyle and going with the flow more has been a challenge. I still ask Jeff for the plan for the day, or month, despite knowing it does not always work out how we planned. I am learning that it is okay and there is beauty in the unknown. Running on Zambian time allows for deeper conversations with Zambians and Zags. By putting my faith in Jeff, Cade, Taylor, and the rest of the ZamFam, I step out into the unknown knowing they will catch me before I fall.

There have already been several opportunities to immerse ourselves in Zambian culture. Today, we jumped into conversations with Zambians at the market and took on our second curio shopping spree (more successful this time). At home, I do not usually take time to talk to all the vendors and people I pass because it is easier that way. Zambia has taught me to embrace the uncomfortable. Taking time to learn about the people I meet makes interaction more meaningful. The first time Jeff threw us into the curio market, we left stressed and overwhelmed. Today we chose to jump into it and left excited from our growth. Taking the leap of faith into bungee jumping, markets, and the other experiences Zambia throws our way is nerve-wracking and stressful at times, but in the end, it is so worth it.

Tomorrow, bright and early, we leave for Zambezi. Right from the start we will be jumping into schools, hospitals, and community classes. I am more nervous about that than I was jumping off the bridge. The situation is new, unknown, and a bit scary. I have only had one classroom placement and now I will be working in the schools and teaching community English classes. Like bungee jumping, there is doubt creeping in whether I am up for the task. Despite the nerves, I will hold on tight to the people around me and take the leap of faith. I know when I am at the bottom, looking at beauty, I will want to do it all over again.

Isa Arredondo
ZamFam ‘26

To my family and Joe: I love you all so much and miss you. I cannot wait to recount my adventures when I get home. Mom, please continue commenting on the blog I love hearing them. The rest of you need to get on that. I will see you in a few weeks!

To TILA: My rose is being here with this amazing group of Zags and reading your comments. My bud is going to Zambezi. My thorn is missing people at home.

To Franny from Katie D and Noah: Happy happy birthday Franny! I love you so much and I hope you have the best birthday! I miss you so much!!! XO, Katie D and Noah

After the sun’s return to the horizon last night, Mr. T, my group’s fabulously knowledgeable tour guide, shared a story centered around a sick lion. I’m going to do my best to recount this fable:

A lion (I’m going to name him “Patrick”) pretended to be sick to trick others into handing him a glass of water, in order to get them close enough to eat for dinner. First comes along a little rabbit, which Patrick stops. Patrick asks it, “hey little rabbit, I’m very sick. Would you mind getting me a glass of water?” The kind rabbit replies, “of course lion. I would be more than happy to.” So the rabbit retrieves and returns the water, and Patrick in turn swallows the rabbit whole. Then comes a big kudu trotting along. Patrick asks it, “hey kudu over there, would you mind getting me a glass of water? I’m sick and thirsty.” The kudu expresses, “oh, I’m sorry you’re sick. It would be rude of me not to help you out.” So the kudu carries the glass of water to Patrick. Patrick, once again successful, feasts on the kudu. Lastly, a jackal comes across Patrick. Patrick asks it, “hey jackal, my friend, would you do a sick lion a favor? Could you bring a glass of water to me?” The jackal replies, “I would, but first you must answer my question. I see the tracks of a rabbit and a kudu that have come here, but no tracks leave. If you can tell me what happened to that rabbit and kudu, I’ll get you your water. So what happened to them?” Patrick swiftly attempts an answer, “Oh, they went to fetch water for me but I’m not sure where they’ve gone. They must have left me.” But the persistent jackal presses further, “There are no tracks leaving this spot from those animals, so tell me what has happened to them.” Patrick has no response. The jackal, understanding what horrors Patrick has done, begins to wail, signaling to everyone that the lion is danger.

Mr. T revealed that the moral of this story is to learn from other people’s mistakes. To learn and make smarter decisions. As we explore Zambia on this trip, visiting colonized landmarks or local villages, I hope we take on this message to learn from our ancestors, previous trip members, and from each other, like the jackal. This simple lesson, illustrated cleverly through animals, made me consider what other ideas animals throughout our own safari could shed light on…

Now to the events of our past two days:
After another bumpy bus ride with inventive seating, we began the first of our two days in Chobe national park on a three hour boat tour. Some personal highlights from this first segment include one hippo’s complete jaw extension, the beautiful patterns of a crocodile’s scales, my contemplations of invading animal life through safaris with Cade, Morgan shouting “big chungus” at a hippo, and Jeff usurping one of Sean’s shoes. I saw Lauren’s message of learning to say no when watching a crocodile snap toward our boat for approaching too closely, and I saw Mary Pearl’s message as the hippopotamuses (hippopotami?) let the water flow over them. We also saw a white bird plucking bugs from an elephant’s skin, which Gee explained is an example of a symbiotic relationship. Both creatures in this instance benefit from the encounter. The elephant gets some free skin cleaning and the bird has a little snack. I witness my fellow zags portray this symbiotic relationship each day, sharing sunscreen, pepto, and smiles, and I’m sure that will only continue into our adventures in Zambezi.

Next came our land safari. We were split up between three cars, eventually settling in two separate camps. Our corresponding tour guides taught us about the indigenous plants, various animal habits, and led us to incredible sights. Our groups drove around tons of impalas, “suicide chickens” (guinea fowl), elephants with “fifth legs” (google at your own risk!), giraffes doing the splits while sipping water, a lion crunching noisily on a dead impala carcass, birds chasing after dragonflies, and a quite striking sunset filled with pinks and blues and purples and oranges. One especially poignant image was a group of impalas, elephants, and giraffes all in a “community” together, as our guides explained. The giraffes could see far and wide, able to alert for any enemies, the elephants could sense movement through the ground and provide tough muscle, while the impalas could monitor close to the ground. They each used their natural gifts and specialized skillsets to help the others, similar to the symbiotic relationship, as we also adapt to each others’ strengths. Some of us are able to stay calm under pressure, like Jeff always knitting no matter the danger and bumpiness of the road, and some of us can bring never-ending laughter like Liv.

After our incredible sunset, we gathered under the starry night sky within our respective camps. Mr. T pointed out that the big star in the sky is actually the moon. “Jay Bless,” one of the cooks, proudly shared his music and love of answering questions saying “No, ask me” when inquired whether someone else should answer some questions. Some of us even heard lions outside our tents at night, but unfortunately, no, Sean’s snoring was in fact not a lion. Mr. T identified a pale-spotted owlet, solely from its quiet call, stating how it uses its night-vision, similar to lions, to hunt down its prey while they are disadvantaged.

We woke up bright and early at 5:30, starting the day off right with more delicious Kalahari food, then spent most of the rest of the day continuing to explore the gorgeous landscape. We learned how to be patient, like the nimble jackal, circling a group of impalas and waiting for the opportune moment to snatch its prey, in addition to the “loser” impalas, rejected from the others, teaching us to find sanctuary and connect among friends who have gone through the same experiences. Following a kind gift of sandwiches and apples from the Kalahari tour group and reuniting with our separated groups, we returned back to Zambia. Over a barbecue around the fire, the 21 of us recounted our highlights, concerns, and what safari animals we believe fit each individual best.

Although some excellent lessons can be acquired through observing these animals in their relatively natural habitats, perhaps I ought to also acknowledge that not every trait ought to be followed: guinea fowls jumping directly in front of cars, male impalas tiring out female impalas, snakes cannibalizing each other, etc. Nonetheless, I find it fascinating, like Mr. T, that so much can be learned by simply observing. He’s been a safari guide for over 20 years and says he could never get tired of these wonderful creatures. We can be a clever jackal, outsmarting any “sick” lion trying to take advantage of us… Or at least if we get eaten, we can help others along the way.

Noah Barron
ZamFam ’26

To family & friends:
Although you guys know I enjoy my personal space and all, just know there’s not a day that goes by without thinking of you. I miss settling down and watching tv with you each night, mom and dad. (No spoilers on the Survivor finale!) I miss competing with you in connections, Cathleen. (Happy early birthday mom and Michael, too!) I miss having the opportunity to call and chat with you all at any time. I miss being able to do improv with GUTS twice a week. I miss our cog dinners. And I miss everyone’s smiles! But I’m very happy to be where I am and with the people I am with. See ya’ll soon!