Elysia Choudhrie - Blog Abroad
Blog #1
1/23/2026
When people first heard I was going to Lusaka, Zambia for my study abroad semester, they usually responded with: “Wow! Why?” commonly followed by: “That’s gonna be hard.” What it felt like was, why not go somewhere easier? But that is precisely why I chose Lusaka. I didn’t want something easy. I didn’t want something that was palatable, and always aesthetic. I wanted something hard, I wanted to love and respect a culture that is outside of the mainstream. When I was packing I wasn’t very stressed because I knew I would do it wrong. I knew I wouldn’t pack this or I would pack too much of that. But I remember telling my mom, “there’s no point in stressing. I know I’m doing it wrong. There just is not a way to be prepared for something I know so little about”. And boy, I didn’t know the extent of it.
Blog #2
Living in Lusaka for the past month has taught me a lot of things, but so far the most influential is realizing the impact of decisions. I can go to the store and get practically anything I want for lunch. When I am hungry, I eat. If my clothes are dirty, I change my clothes. But the little boy I say hi to on my morning walk doesn’t know where his next meal is going to come from. The clothes he has on are the clothes he has. I feel the pains of the older women sitting outside all day, rain or shine, selling fruit. Or the very young girl with a baby strapped to her back, needing to help take care of the family instead of just being a kid. At home, I am aware that I have privileges, but I can easily let myself forget. Here in Lusaka, it isn’t a momentary realization; it is a constant knowledge that sits in your stomach. It is wonderful to eat when you are hungry, but it is a privilege and one I didn’t use to think about often enough. These privileges and comforts had become so mundane to American Lysie. But here, the weight of this world sits with me constantly. Here, you feel it with every step of your comfortable shoes. My Professor from my Environment, Culture, and Religion class said something that really stuck with me. He said “The culture that values privacy puts up walls, and the culture that values beauty, kicks out the orphan.” I had become so accustomed to living a beautiful life that I wasn’t looking for the orphan. I learned to live a life where everything looks good, no matter how fake it is. Side note,the fruit here is much better. Feeling this weight isn’t always bad. One of my greatest pleasures these past weeks has been going to soccer games. The first game was an away game, and I traveled with the team. The boys sang their hearts out throughout the bus ride. They hooted and drummed and sang. And as we drove down the streets, some people stared. Others grinned. Others danced. Some even sang along. And since then, the singing has only gotten louder. Feeling the weight of life also allows you to feel the weight of joy–just how sleeping feels so much more refreshing when you are exhausted. While the boys were singing, I could not stop smiling. A line from a Mary Oliver poem got stuck in my head: “Joy is not meant to be a crumb.” If you allow yourself to feel real pain and hardship, you also allow yourself to feel and find real joy in the gaps of life. Zambia is a highly Christianized nation, so going to church is a part of the rhythm of life. There, the people sing as loudly as they can, and dance and move as much as possible, as if to get the attention of the heavens. It isn’t performative or fake; this version of joy is one of the realest things I have ever experienced. You wear your heart in your movements and in your voice for everyone to see. It is unfiltered joy, a happiness that isn’t bashful. So as I move forward in weighted culture, I pray to have eyes that notice, a heart that cares, and feet that feel the path below me. I pray to lower my walls, to stay soft and open to all of the love and suffering around me. Weight
Blog #3
I am currently soaking up the mundane life. Well, that is not exactly the right word, since my life here in Zambia is anything but mundane. What I mean is that I am so grateful to get to live here. Not visit, not tour, but really live here. To get my groceries, talk to the friendly security guard everyday, hang out with my neighbors in the evening, and worry about daily matters. THe thing that has been most interesting for me is the things that bring people together, like food and soccer–just the ordinary stuff of life. As a nation, Zambia’s favorite food is called nshima. It’s mine too. Seriously, I am yet to meet someone who doesn’t absolutely love it. Zambians eat nshima at breakfast, lunch, and dinner; it is the staple food here. It is like a hot, stiff dough made out of maize. It is really difficult to explain, so hopefully I will learn to cook it before I leave so I can make it for you. You eat it with your hands, using it as a scoop to eat the other dishes. You can eat nshima with just about anything- eggs, fish, chicken, pumpkin leaves, lumanda, okra, and so much more. I have always known, thanks to my dad, that food is one of the best ways to bring people together. And yet, it always makes me smile to see that truth in action. People are so eager to share their culture and food with me. Everytime I run into someone I know eating, they always ask “Do you eat nshima? Do you want a bite?” To which I usually respond “yes and yes!” Another social glue here, just like at home, is sports. Sports are one of the easiest ways to bond with people. I joined the university soccer team and it has been a wonderful experience. I meant to join an intramural team, but accidentally joined the main women's team at UNZA. This happy accident has come with many opportunities. This past week I got to go to this national sporting convention, called ZUSA, in the city of Kabwe, where most of the colleges in Zambia came together to compete in a week of all kinds of sports. We had a week full of non-stop soccer and laughing. I am so insanely grateful that soccer brought me there, but I am more thankful for the people it led me to. The nice thing about sports is that they clearly show people's character. I can clearly tell that the people I meet are good people when they pick up the fallen athlete, encourage their teammates, and loudly chant and drum a constant stream of cheers. Soccer brought me into the athletic community here which is about as authentic experience as you can get. Getting to live here has taught me that life really is team work. “It takes a village” has proven completely true time and time again. People here have shown up for me–a stranger here only for a short time–in big and small ways that I feel completely undeserving of. I have been taken under people’s wings over and over. I am grateful to live in a place where finding a village isn’t hard. It is simply about talking to the person standing next to you, giving help when someone looks lost, offering someone food, or encouraging the defeated athlete. One of the many things I hope to take back home with me is to always work at building a village. To show up for people and let people show up for me.Finding A Village
Blog #4
I spent this past week in Livingstone, home to one the seven wonders of the world–Victoria Falls. Victoria Falls is between Zambia and Zimbabwe and averages 500 millions liters of waterfall per minute. It is roughly twice the size of Niagara Falls and is one of the few places in the world where you can find lunar rainbows. All that shows the magnitude and awe of this place; it completely commands your attention. As you drive into the city (after what was in my case a 9 hour crammed bus ride) you can see the mist coming off the falls from miles away. It is said that you can see it from 50 km away. That glimpse of what the falls would be like drove me crazy and I couldn't wait to get there. The first thing I did at the Falls was the bungee jump. I had imagined doing that since before I even committed to going to Zambia to study. This is one of the highest bungee jumps you can do in the world at 111 meters. That is a full 3 seconds of falling without feeling your body at all. It was absolutely wild. They make you look at it before you commit, and let me tell you, I was looking down at what felt like my death. The bridge is not only the highest bridge I have ever seen, much less stepped foot on, now they expect me to jump off of it? As locals would say: “That’s some white people stuff”. After looking at my death, I went to sign the papers. Then these very kind employees get you all ready to jump. I was scared but excited. I made the guy in charge give me a hug to calm me down (you gotta do what you gotta do). Then they put me on this tiny platform, where you have to hang your toes over the edge. Even though every bone in my body was screaming at me not to, I jumped. You just fall and fall and fall–the longest 3 seconds of my life. Then you hit the bottom, and bounce up and down. The rope catches you and you can finally breathe. I hung upside down in complete awe; I had actually jumped and was hanging by my feet over one of the wonders of the world! That was one of the most unreal feelings I have ever experienced. After bungee jumping, my friend and I hiked down to the bottom of the canyon, we saw baboons, watched people bungee jump, and contemplated the huge whirlpool that the currents created. And then it was time to see the falls. Seeing the falls is more of a task then it sounds. As we got closer, my heart jumped out of my chest. To get close, you walk on a bridge called ‘knife bridge.’ It is a metal suspension bridge that puts you right in front of the falls, but you cannot see anything at al. The locals call Victoria Falls ‘Mosi Oa Tunya’ meaning ‘The Smoke That Thunders’. The smoke (actually the water vapor) is so thick that you cannot see anything and you get instantly completely soaked to the bone. You cannot hear anything–not even the thoughts in your own head. However, I couldn’t help but stop and take in this truly overwhelming moment. I must have stood on that bridge for over 10 minutes, while people ran past as if to hide from the water and my friend tried to convince me to get off the bridge. I was so grateful to literally be hit in the face by one of the wonders of the world. It is a beautiful experience to be completely overwhelmed by your environment, not only by sight, but touch and sound. To be surrounded by something of such magnitude that you can’t even think. I can’t really figure out how to end this or what I want people to understand. Maybe it is to fully submerge yourself in something. Be hit in the face with your decisions, be in so deep that you have to continue no matter how scared you are, be so entranced that you can’t think or see, that you just have to exist and feel. Maybe it is that sometimes you just gotta jump. Or maybe it is to sometimes let the full magnitude of our surroundings into your bones. Or maybe I just want you to know that I absolutely love Victoria Falls and you should definitely see it before you die. Mosi Oa Tunya
Blog #5
When I traveled to Livingstone a few weeks ago, I got to meet my friend’s family. I have said that my favorite part of Zambia is the people, but this completely solidified it for me. When I got to the house, everyone ran over to give me a hug. You know that feeling of going home after you have been away for a long time, and your mom runs out the front door to greet you? That was the exact feeling I had, except it was people I had never met before. I got a tour of the simple house and garden, played games with his younger sister and talked with his mom. His mom made lunch of traditional Zambian foods that she wanted me to try: nshima, rape greens, lusala, and beans. Lusala is a tree root that is soaked and you are just going to have to trust me, it is absolutely delish. Or maybe it is just extra good when she prepares it. I fell in love with them and with their home. I just felt like I fit. Which, after moving across the entire world into a culture that I never fit into, constantly stand out in, and I am frequently doing something slightly wrong, is not a feeling I take lightly anymore. Anyways, I think how much I loved their family, their home, and their food showed because his mom insisted I come back the next day for dinner. From the moment I left her home, all I was looking forward to was going back. When I went back, she had prepared even more food. Lusala (just because I told her how much I loved it), nshima (of course because there is no meal without it), more greens, and village chicken. (Side note: village chicken tastes so different from the chicken from a store, which freaked me out a little. Made me feel like the developed world is very dystopian.) His sister did my hair and we laughed like we hadn’t met just 24 hours before. I talked with his mom like she was my own. In fact she told me to tell my mom not to worry anymore because I had my Zambian mom to take care of me now. I have always been a very independent person, I have always liked to handle myself and deal with my own problems. However, after 5 months of not seeing any family whatsoever, to be held and taken care of was the biggest breath of relief I have had in a long time. Sometimes I forget I am only 19. I left their home recharged and heartbroken. I was so sad that I had just met them and now I had to leave them. Their kindness and generosity was exactly what I needed. Even though it wasn’t huge, it meant the entire world to me. I asked my friend to call them yesterday so I could talk to them, and his sister said, “Lysie, when are you coming home? I miss you!” I am the youngest child, so I have never had to have my heartbroken like that by a little sister. I literally started crying while my friend laughed at me. His mom said that I needed to come home and see my family. The most filling and devastating thing I could have heard. I think when I look back on my time here, those 2 days will be some of the most, if not the most, special moments of my entire life. How beautiful it is to miss something so bad that your chest hurts. Right? Or maybe I am just trying to deal with the fact that I have to leave soon. Family
