Blog Post #1 - GS

            The most meaningful experience that I have had in my last two weeks in country is the first night of my homestay, even though it was more of a rough start. Lexi and I were picked up from the hotel by our host mom, Patricia, and when we got home we met our host sister, Bupe (whose name we thought was Rupe for the first four nights) and her several neighborhood friends, Chris, our host dad, and Peggy, his sister, our host aunt. We were led to our room and allowed time to unpack. A couple hours later, we were called for dinner.

            Dinner was a very interesting experience. Patricia left for the night for work and was not able to join us, so it was just Peggy, Chris, Bupe, Lexi, and I. When we were called from our rooms for dinner, we saw that a makeshift dinner table was created from four stools that when put all together create a larger circular stand. On top, there was a tray with roasted whole chicken in a pan, nshima, the staple Zambia dish, and some sort of green vegetable, that we later learned is called rape. On the floor, there was a pan with a pitcher of water, and its use was initially unclear. Peggy held out the pitcher and we hesitantly stuck out our hands while she poured out the water. Then we put what we considered to be “normal” portions of the nshima and vegetables onto our plates. I was not sure how to get a piece of the chicken, given that there was no silverware to cut it. When I asked Peggy, she said, “Just take with your hand.” I went for the leg because that looked like the easiest part to pull off and Lexi had the same idea and went for the other. During this meal, we learned how to eat nshima with the several relishes. We pulled off a small piece of nshima, rolled it into a small ball, then pulled off a piece of chicken and picked up some of the vegetables and ate it entirely. This was my first bite eating as a traditional Zambian and it felt good seeing Peggy smile in approval. As I continued to take more bites, Peggy continued to pile on more food, and I felt pressured to keep eating. She told us that we were expected to eat four to five pieces of nshima and at that point, I was forcing myself to eat three.

            Throughout dinner, I noticed that Chris had only 2 pieces of nshima then left without a word, Bupe did not even eat any nshima, and Peggy never fixed herself a plate, so I was confused why we were the ones eating everything. I went to bed that night with a full stomach and woke up to that same full stomach. The next day in our culture lecture, we learned about cultural practices, specifically the meal to welcome guests. Traditionally, a whole chicken is served and the cook does not eat the meal because it is made solely for those guests. I now understood how important it was that our host family welcomed us. Others in our group did not have the same welcoming and I felt especially warmed by their efforts.