In America school attendance is a right. If parents do not educate their children they can be prosecuted or have their children placed in the care of the state. In Zambia, however, there are no such rights. While education is free, parents must pay for a uniform and supplies. If you are making a dollar a day, this may be impossible. Parents are forced to choose between starvation and education.
This week I worked with the Reach 4 Life team. It is a Christian abstinence program. It also teaches life skills, leadership, and skills in decision making. The staff train student leaders, chosen by the school, and they facilitate the meetings. Once the students graduate school and return to their villages, it is the hope that they will teach other children what they have learned. The goal is to have programs all over Zambia. This program is in government run schools as well as Christian schools. This program is run without U.S. Aid. The reason, as you might guess, is that our government will not allow funds to be used for this program because it has a Christian foundation. That means all support must be raised by private donors. They have more requests for the manuals the students use than they can provide for. With more funding there would be programs in the villages where many children do not go to school. The question I ask myself is why would our government care when the government here does not care? Young people in Zambia have HIV/AIDS at an alarming and unbelievable rate.
I met a group of Reach 4 Life Ambassadors. These are young adults who have completed their education and the program and are now mentoring the next group of student leaders. I asked them what their hopes and dreams are, for not every Zambian youth has hopes beyond providing basic needs. Each of the twelve young people had a dream. One wanted to be a pastor, one a nurse, one an accountant, one to see the end of AIDS in his life time, and the list goes on. When I asked what they were doing to reach those dreams, only a few could answer. Very few children go on to college or a university. In an area where girls routinely get engaged or married at the age of 15 or 16, not one of these students was married, engaged, or had children. This program is helping them believe they can have more in life than waiting for the HIV virus to destroy them. Is it fair for us to give them a dream and not give them a way to realize it? Is it possible, that as I type this, the illusive cure for AIDS is in the mind of a student sitting in a Reach 4 Life meeting right here in Zambia?
I will end this entry with a common story in Zambia. Many girls who desperately want to go to school, but do not have the money will often sell themselves to earn enough to attend. They will have a “sugar daddy.” We laugh about this phrase in the U.S. but it is not funny here. I read a testimony from one student who had been raped at a very young age. She felt worthless and condemned to a life of prostitution. She made enough to attend school and began the Reach 4 Life program. They taught her the concept of 2nd virginity, a vow to keep sex from this point on until marriage. She was given hope in Christ that she was important to Him and that her life mattered.
Children should never have to sell their bodies to have the opportunity to attend school. I could not help contrast this reality with ours in America. I have spent eighteen years working with young people who cannot wait until they get out of high school. Many of them do not even finish their education. My first thought was to bring all my foster children to Zambia for a few months. This almost caused me to smile thinking of our girls surviving here with so little. Then my second thought hit me with a sobering force. Our children have also been sold, and they have sold themselves. Every time a judge sends them home before they graduate, where failure is almost certain, we have sold them to a life lived out in poverty and despair. When over half of the girls get pregnant with in one year of leaving state custody, they have sold themselves for free. When we fail to help them dream, we have invited them to continue the same cycle of abuse and poverty that put them in the care of the state to begin with. We tell an 18 year old good luck, hope you make it, and when they fail we point at them and say, “I knew you would.” It is the worst sell of human potential, and we do not accept responsibility for it.
It is so easy to come to Zambia and see the suffering and great needs. It is every where I turn. It is ugly and so big you can not hide from it. You can not pretend it doesn’t exist. I wonder, however, how many times we have been willing to send a donation to another country, but ignore the suffering in our own cities or even the needs of our neighbors. Do we offer hospitality to those who are different than us? Don’t get me wrong, we need to give our money, but we also need to give of ourselves. The Bible is clear in both the Old and New Testament. If we do not take care of the poor, widows, and orphans, He does not honor our offerings.
On a lighter note:
I am eating puppy chow one of the girls on the team made. It is made with corn flakes. In Zambia, you use what you have. It isn’t bad. It’s a little chewy. We have also discovered a new level of cleanliness. Laundry takes so long to do that we measure if something is appropriate to wear, not by how many times it has been worn, but by how bad it smells. We have also grown accustom to Cheech and Chong, our roaches who live in the kitchen.
Last night the power went out all around us. This happens often, but usually during the day. We were right in the middle of prayer. We got candles, finished our prayer time and then headed outside. The sky was blazing with stars. I have never seen so many. I guess the great thing about being the “dark continent” is that you can see so many stars. We girls had girls only time. We spread blankets under the stars in the yard and talked about things that girls talk about, like marriage. We saw a few shooting stars too. I have said many times, “Never miss an opportunity to look at the stars.” Until the lights came on, I was having so much fun. I was not 46 years old and they were not 20 years old. We were just women spending time together. Of course the romance of the evening was clouded this morning when I woke up with bug bites on my arms and legs, and even one down my shirt. It seems that the bugs live in the grass and they appear to have been hungry last night.
I still have not seen a snake, a fact I thank God for on a regular basis. One last thing, I was in Livingstone this week with the Reach 4 Life staff. We stopped to have lunch and I ate at Subway. I was so excited at the thought of having a vegetarian sandwich, all those green vegetables that I have missed. Let’s just say eating Subway in Zambia is a little different than in America. My team member that was with me was brave enough to eat caterpillars, a great source of protein in parts of Zambia. That was just gross to watch.
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Quiet Moments
Friday we worked at the new WHIZ office and guest house that is being built so teams will have a place to stay. It was fun to meet some of the construction workers. They are building this beautiful and large facility with all hand tools. It is amazing to see. They are very talented. It would frustrate you men in moments. They can't just run down to the Lowe's and pick up supplies either.
We spent the rest of the weekend either studying, doing laundry by hand, or going to church. Today is a catch up day for all our work and I decided to start the day emailing Mike, who I miss more than I have words for. I miss being able to call my son and daughter anytime I want. I know contact would be minimum, but had no idea how hard that would be. Last night I couldn't get on the internet, which I had not been on for a few days, and I walked home crying. It was pouring rain. The water was seeping up my long skirt, and I didn't care. It matched my mood. Today, I had internet and could read email from Mike and all the posts from you, and I felt much better. Thank you for taking the time to leave comments. They mean so much to me. Miss you all.
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
We spent the rest of the weekend either studying, doing laundry by hand, or going to church. Today is a catch up day for all our work and I decided to start the day emailing Mike, who I miss more than I have words for. I miss being able to call my son and daughter anytime I want. I know contact would be minimum, but had no idea how hard that would be. Last night I couldn't get on the internet, which I had not been on for a few days, and I walked home crying. It was pouring rain. The water was seeping up my long skirt, and I didn't care. It matched my mood. Today, I had internet and could read email from Mike and all the posts from you, and I felt much better. Thank you for taking the time to leave comments. They mean so much to me. Miss you all.
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Thursday Visits
Thursday January 22, 2009
Today we started out in a fairly comfy bus headed to a village to work and eat along side our new Zambian friends. The roads were rough and wet. The closer we got, the worse the road became. Finally, the bus could not tackle the next swimming pool in the middle of the road. A Land Rover swam by, stopped on the other side of the pool and took us in 2 loads to the village. When we pulled up the village was there to clap and cheer for our arrival. We are having the hardest time being served so warmly. We feel we have so little to give. We were told tonight that the Zambians have a saying, “It is better to receive a guest than to have gold.” Moreen, the WHIZ staff working with us, and our friend, said that anyone can give money, but for us to come to Zambia gives encouragement. That is why we are treated so well.
The women, including me, stood in a long line from a building to a new piggery being built. Bricks were passed like a bucket brigade. I’m sore, and I didn’t do it with a baby on my back. One woman had a bare breast so that her baby could get milk while she passed bricks. These women are amazing. I should mention that the men stood by and watched.
Other women were cooking the goat, chicken, cabbage, and shema. Everything was prepared outside, flies and all. It is one of those times that you pray, “Lord, protect me from what I am about to eat.” I have to say, the food was wonderful.
After we ate, we climbed back into the Land Rovers and bounced to the middle of nowhere. Even the bad roads had disappeared. Just like always, a few small huts came into view. We were each greeted individually, as is the custom, and offered a very small stool or a place on the make shift mat. We met a little girl, age 7. She has T.B. and they are waiting for the results of her HIV tests. We listened as the WHIZ staff asked questions to check on this little angel’s health. I was allowed to ask a few questions. Does she have siblings? Is there a father in the house? Someone asked if she was attending school? I could not, however, ask the one question I really wanted to ask the mother. How are you coping, and are you afraid? These would be inappropriate questions in a place that must cope. We prayed for the family as we left and presented them with our gift of corn meal and sugar.
As I turned to walk away, I realized that I was having a hard time breathing. Not from sickness or asthma, but because that child may not live to be a troublesome adolescent. I could not breath because she was only 7, and hungry, and sick, and sad. She was not in a hospital bed, but sleeps on a dirt floor each night. As we walked through the corn towards our Land Rover, I wanted to cry to relieve this miserable feeling, but tears would not come. It was if the tears were in my throat blocking off a large percentage of my air.
Our next visit was with two children that lived with their mother. The mom had just come back from the hospital 3 weeks ago because she hemoraged after losing her third child. Her husband died recently also. They are without food. They have only one blanket between them because she wrapped her dead child in the only thing she had to give her. The worker brought us to this family because she thought we might encourage her. She hoped our visit would help the mother get well faster. I told her I was sorry that she had lost her baby. After meeting her two other children, I told her they were beautiful. I asked if the hospital had given her medicine to bring home or vitamins, since she had lost so much blood and was experiencing dizzy spells. The interpreter did not give me her answer. I think she was too upset with the response. We prayed for this family and presented them with a large bag of corn meal and sugar.
I wish I had some funny story to end with today, but there just isn’t one. Hug your children and grandchildren, and thank God that tonight they will sleep on a mattress under warm blankets with full tummys.
Today we started out in a fairly comfy bus headed to a village to work and eat along side our new Zambian friends. The roads were rough and wet. The closer we got, the worse the road became. Finally, the bus could not tackle the next swimming pool in the middle of the road. A Land Rover swam by, stopped on the other side of the pool and took us in 2 loads to the village. When we pulled up the village was there to clap and cheer for our arrival. We are having the hardest time being served so warmly. We feel we have so little to give. We were told tonight that the Zambians have a saying, “It is better to receive a guest than to have gold.” Moreen, the WHIZ staff working with us, and our friend, said that anyone can give money, but for us to come to Zambia gives encouragement. That is why we are treated so well.
The women, including me, stood in a long line from a building to a new piggery being built. Bricks were passed like a bucket brigade. I’m sore, and I didn’t do it with a baby on my back. One woman had a bare breast so that her baby could get milk while she passed bricks. These women are amazing. I should mention that the men stood by and watched.
Other women were cooking the goat, chicken, cabbage, and shema. Everything was prepared outside, flies and all. It is one of those times that you pray, “Lord, protect me from what I am about to eat.” I have to say, the food was wonderful.
After we ate, we climbed back into the Land Rovers and bounced to the middle of nowhere. Even the bad roads had disappeared. Just like always, a few small huts came into view. We were each greeted individually, as is the custom, and offered a very small stool or a place on the make shift mat. We met a little girl, age 7. She has T.B. and they are waiting for the results of her HIV tests. We listened as the WHIZ staff asked questions to check on this little angel’s health. I was allowed to ask a few questions. Does she have siblings? Is there a father in the house? Someone asked if she was attending school? I could not, however, ask the one question I really wanted to ask the mother. How are you coping, and are you afraid? These would be inappropriate questions in a place that must cope. We prayed for the family as we left and presented them with our gift of corn meal and sugar.
As I turned to walk away, I realized that I was having a hard time breathing. Not from sickness or asthma, but because that child may not live to be a troublesome adolescent. I could not breath because she was only 7, and hungry, and sick, and sad. She was not in a hospital bed, but sleeps on a dirt floor each night. As we walked through the corn towards our Land Rover, I wanted to cry to relieve this miserable feeling, but tears would not come. It was if the tears were in my throat blocking off a large percentage of my air.
Our next visit was with two children that lived with their mother. The mom had just come back from the hospital 3 weeks ago because she hemoraged after losing her third child. Her husband died recently also. They are without food. They have only one blanket between them because she wrapped her dead child in the only thing she had to give her. The worker brought us to this family because she thought we might encourage her. She hoped our visit would help the mother get well faster. I told her I was sorry that she had lost her baby. After meeting her two other children, I told her they were beautiful. I asked if the hospital had given her medicine to bring home or vitamins, since she had lost so much blood and was experiencing dizzy spells. The interpreter did not give me her answer. I think she was too upset with the response. We prayed for this family and presented them with a large bag of corn meal and sugar.
I wish I had some funny story to end with today, but there just isn’t one. Hug your children and grandchildren, and thank God that tonight they will sleep on a mattress under warm blankets with full tummys.
Visiting HIV/AIDs Clients
We sat in a small brick building, shorter than me and about the size of my bathroom. The hostess brought out all the chairs she owned from her tiny hut and placed both of them in the dim cubby hole. For everyone else, a corn meal bag had been split down the seam and laid flat. This served as a mat. Not much is wasted or thrown away here. A young woman, only 22 years old, was lead by the hand and told to take her place on the bag with the rest of our team. Since I am the oldest team member, I was given a chair. Age does have its rewards here in Zambia. Her mother joined us. We were told the client’s name, but I will call her Janet, because she has so little dignity to spare. Janet’s story is a common one here in Zambia. She was married very young, perhaps only 15. She had a baby who died shortly after birth. She gave birth to a second and then a third child. Soon after the birth of her third daughter, she tested positive for HIV/AIDS. Her husband divorced her as soon as he found out, a common practice here. He was now free to take another wife. To answer the question that came quickly to my mind, and probably yours, no, he was not tested. Zambia ended mandatory testing some time back, and the people do not want to know their status for fear of becoming an outcast. Many do not get tested until they are so sick that they must go to a hospital. By the time they know their status, the ARV drugs are not as helpful. The earlier an HIV/AIDS patient begins these treatments the better the quality of life. Remember, AIDS does not kill a person. Their bodies cannot fight off the diseases they get and the sickness kills them. In a country full of disease, the life expectancy of an AIDS client is much shorter then in the U.S. Hospitals have few beds and are far away from many of the villages.
At the end of our visit, Janet’s two girls were brought in to meet us. One of these girls is already very sick, probably positive also. She has not been tested. In my mind I am screaming, “Why on earth not?” Since this option is not allowed, I pulled out my Bible and read Psalm 139: 1-16. God gave me the passage that morning for the clients I would see. You may read it for yourself. As you read it, try to put yourself in the position of this young mother, who sang in the church choir and loves her God very much. A woman who had hopes and dreams of watching her girls marry some fine young Zambian man who worked hard and was disease free. A young woman who has never been allowed to hold her grief out for all her friends and family to see. She does not speak now or care for her children. She knows she is dying and that it is possible that she will live just long enough to see one of her children go to God before her.
For those of you who are asking how she contracted HIV, I have one question. Does the answer affect your level of compassion? It would not, if you were here and looked into the faces of those who suffer, or fear they will be next. For those who think morality is the only problem, you have not seen the poverty, starvation, and lack of hope that exists everywhere you gaze.
The next client was a male, and his spouse has divorced him also. He shared his story openly. After I read him the Psalm, he was asked how we could pray for him. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Pray that God will encourage me. I need encouragement.” Then he told us he had no Bible and could really use one. He received a Bible today.
On the lighter side of things
There is no brewed coffee here. I am adjusting to instant. It is strong and not half bad. The water pot boils in about 3 mins. It is awesome. Watch out Starbucks!
We visited another community trust (village) today. It rained all the day before, at night, and the day of our journey. We experienced Africa today. We had to turn the bus around and get a couple of Land Rovers. We were squished in, making us realize the width of our hips. Many of the roads were washed out. The pot holes here could swallow the pot holes and the roads back home. Sometimes the people throw bricks or tree limbs, whatever they can find, in the deeper holes. You can’t drive over them, but people don’t fall in them either.
At one point in our expedition, a bridge was washed out. You could not see a bridge. We all thought we would be turning around and heading back to the guest house. Wrong! The drivers walked to the edge of the water, studied the crossing, chatted about it, and then put those Land Rovers in 4 wheel drive. The staff member in the back of the vehicle yelled words in Tonga to the driver as we slowly drove across the “bridge.” Apparently, they knew from watching the current where the bridge was. Our WHIZ hostess sat in the front seat praying silently, and the WHIZ staff next to me was holding on tight to the door hoping to see her husband again. She is a new staff person, and we had a great time laughing at her. I was somewhere in the middle of fear and excitement. For those family members freaking out right now, let me assure you that the drivers would never really put us in danger. They are amazing drivers and men of God.
The WHIZ staff in the back of our Land Rover had traveled the road that morning on a motorbike (a cross between motorcycle and dirt bike). If you could see the road you would not believe it.
I asked this staff member if he had special pants to go over his pants, to keep the mud and water off as he rode his motorbike. After all, I have riding pants. He gave me a strange look so I repeated the question using my hands this time. He then said no, only a jacket. One of my team members leaned over to remind me that “pants” means underwear in Zambia. I was going to try and fix it, but decided leaving it alone was better. My friend and I had a good laugh about it later. Zambians are very polite and would never correct you. If you are laughing right now, go ahead and laugh at my expense.
By the time we had been bounced for an hour and had ridden through a lot of water, we girls had to go potty. Now where is the outhouse? No outhouse, not even a large tree. We had to go out into the cornfield, take off our shatangas (skirt like wraps), and form a privacy circle. I am not kidding. Just to make things interesting, I should mention that when Maguas (white people) come into the area, all the children gather around to visit. What I want to know is where did all those children come from in the middle of nowhere? WARNING: If you are drinking something while reading this you may want to swallow before continuing. My legs and knees were so stiff from the ride and bouncing, not to mention my broken tail bone was complaining that when I was finished with my turn in the circle I couldn’t get back up. One of the girls holding a wrap was yelling because the bugs were biting her legs. I told her I didn’t care what bit her, she had better not drop that wrap! I finally realized I had two options. One, I could sit down and then get up, that would be disgusting, so I choose option two. I pulled up from my squat using one of the girl’s backside. If you just spit all over yourself, you only have yourself to blame. I warned you.
At the end of our visit, Janet’s two girls were brought in to meet us. One of these girls is already very sick, probably positive also. She has not been tested. In my mind I am screaming, “Why on earth not?” Since this option is not allowed, I pulled out my Bible and read Psalm 139: 1-16. God gave me the passage that morning for the clients I would see. You may read it for yourself. As you read it, try to put yourself in the position of this young mother, who sang in the church choir and loves her God very much. A woman who had hopes and dreams of watching her girls marry some fine young Zambian man who worked hard and was disease free. A young woman who has never been allowed to hold her grief out for all her friends and family to see. She does not speak now or care for her children. She knows she is dying and that it is possible that she will live just long enough to see one of her children go to God before her.
For those of you who are asking how she contracted HIV, I have one question. Does the answer affect your level of compassion? It would not, if you were here and looked into the faces of those who suffer, or fear they will be next. For those who think morality is the only problem, you have not seen the poverty, starvation, and lack of hope that exists everywhere you gaze.
The next client was a male, and his spouse has divorced him also. He shared his story openly. After I read him the Psalm, he was asked how we could pray for him. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Pray that God will encourage me. I need encouragement.” Then he told us he had no Bible and could really use one. He received a Bible today.
On the lighter side of things
There is no brewed coffee here. I am adjusting to instant. It is strong and not half bad. The water pot boils in about 3 mins. It is awesome. Watch out Starbucks!
We visited another community trust (village) today. It rained all the day before, at night, and the day of our journey. We experienced Africa today. We had to turn the bus around and get a couple of Land Rovers. We were squished in, making us realize the width of our hips. Many of the roads were washed out. The pot holes here could swallow the pot holes and the roads back home. Sometimes the people throw bricks or tree limbs, whatever they can find, in the deeper holes. You can’t drive over them, but people don’t fall in them either.
At one point in our expedition, a bridge was washed out. You could not see a bridge. We all thought we would be turning around and heading back to the guest house. Wrong! The drivers walked to the edge of the water, studied the crossing, chatted about it, and then put those Land Rovers in 4 wheel drive. The staff member in the back of the vehicle yelled words in Tonga to the driver as we slowly drove across the “bridge.” Apparently, they knew from watching the current where the bridge was. Our WHIZ hostess sat in the front seat praying silently, and the WHIZ staff next to me was holding on tight to the door hoping to see her husband again. She is a new staff person, and we had a great time laughing at her. I was somewhere in the middle of fear and excitement. For those family members freaking out right now, let me assure you that the drivers would never really put us in danger. They are amazing drivers and men of God.
The WHIZ staff in the back of our Land Rover had traveled the road that morning on a motorbike (a cross between motorcycle and dirt bike). If you could see the road you would not believe it.
I asked this staff member if he had special pants to go over his pants, to keep the mud and water off as he rode his motorbike. After all, I have riding pants. He gave me a strange look so I repeated the question using my hands this time. He then said no, only a jacket. One of my team members leaned over to remind me that “pants” means underwear in Zambia. I was going to try and fix it, but decided leaving it alone was better. My friend and I had a good laugh about it later. Zambians are very polite and would never correct you. If you are laughing right now, go ahead and laugh at my expense.
By the time we had been bounced for an hour and had ridden through a lot of water, we girls had to go potty. Now where is the outhouse? No outhouse, not even a large tree. We had to go out into the cornfield, take off our shatangas (skirt like wraps), and form a privacy circle. I am not kidding. Just to make things interesting, I should mention that when Maguas (white people) come into the area, all the children gather around to visit. What I want to know is where did all those children come from in the middle of nowhere? WARNING: If you are drinking something while reading this you may want to swallow before continuing. My legs and knees were so stiff from the ride and bouncing, not to mention my broken tail bone was complaining that when I was finished with my turn in the circle I couldn’t get back up. One of the girls holding a wrap was yelling because the bugs were biting her legs. I told her I didn’t care what bit her, she had better not drop that wrap! I finally realized I had two options. One, I could sit down and then get up, that would be disgusting, so I choose option two. I pulled up from my squat using one of the girl’s backside. If you just spit all over yourself, you only have yourself to blame. I warned you.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Ladies in one of the trust.
Don't laugh at me. I was trying to lean back so all the ladies would be in the picture.Challenges and Important Lessons: Week One
We are in a 3 bedroom house with one shower. There are 14 of us. Everyone is 21 or below … except for me (don’t ask). It is a constant place of motion and volume. So where does one study who must have quiet to read a book entitled, The Pedagogy of the Oppressed? I tried sitting on my bed, but I fell asleep. I have noticed that everyone is getting quieter as assignment deadlines approach, so there is hope. We are settling into a routine.
I have to say that everyone is pitching in and helping out where needed. I have watched students share their small stock of special shampoo or soap, knowing they can’t replace it when it is gone. I have shared my priceless medicine cabinet of ointments and Pepto Bismol. This would include the medicated baby powder that is great for that rash you get on the thighs from wearing skirts in hot, humid weather.
We are learning to wash clothes by hand. Notice I say “learning.” Our first lesson was that soap here is very concentrated. When you use too much, it takes a really, really long time to rinse it all out. It was easier to just wear them with soap in them. If we get caught in the rain, which is a strong possibility, we will leave bubbles wherever we go. The children will love it. We also learned that things do not dry quickly in the rainy season, so wash only ½ your clothes at a time. Finally, you just have to deal with your under things blowing in the wind for all the world to see.
We have also discovered what it feels like to live one week with NO money. We haven’t shopped or had the ability to fill even the basic of needs or to put offering in the church plate. When you are not in charge of the schedule, have no transportation, or any say on the rules, you have to do what you are told. This has probably been the greatest challenge for me, so little control over me. Today I really looked at my frustration and realized it was a helpless feeling. This must be how so many Africans feel every day of their lives. It must be frustrating to have a store, but no money for bread. To have roads, and no way to get to a hospital. To have access to ARVs, but no money to pay someone to take you the long way to the clinic.
To end on a lighter note, our last lesson is to always, always, carry toilet paper with us wherever we go! I miss all of you very much and wish you could be here with me, because I do not wish to be there with you in -20 degree temps. Love, Melinda
I have to say that everyone is pitching in and helping out where needed. I have watched students share their small stock of special shampoo or soap, knowing they can’t replace it when it is gone. I have shared my priceless medicine cabinet of ointments and Pepto Bismol. This would include the medicated baby powder that is great for that rash you get on the thighs from wearing skirts in hot, humid weather.
We are learning to wash clothes by hand. Notice I say “learning.” Our first lesson was that soap here is very concentrated. When you use too much, it takes a really, really long time to rinse it all out. It was easier to just wear them with soap in them. If we get caught in the rain, which is a strong possibility, we will leave bubbles wherever we go. The children will love it. We also learned that things do not dry quickly in the rainy season, so wash only ½ your clothes at a time. Finally, you just have to deal with your under things blowing in the wind for all the world to see.
We have also discovered what it feels like to live one week with NO money. We haven’t shopped or had the ability to fill even the basic of needs or to put offering in the church plate. When you are not in charge of the schedule, have no transportation, or any say on the rules, you have to do what you are told. This has probably been the greatest challenge for me, so little control over me. Today I really looked at my frustration and realized it was a helpless feeling. This must be how so many Africans feel every day of their lives. It must be frustrating to have a store, but no money for bread. To have roads, and no way to get to a hospital. To have access to ARVs, but no money to pay someone to take you the long way to the clinic.
To end on a lighter note, our last lesson is to always, always, carry toilet paper with us wherever we go! I miss all of you very much and wish you could be here with me, because I do not wish to be there with you in -20 degree temps. Love, Melinda
Today's Lecture
Today we attended a lecture presented by a professor at the university in Lusaka. He lectured on community planning in Zambia. If I had to give you only one point that meant the most to me it would be the following: Change is hard for all of us. If we are to be agents of change, the community must own the change. We can not build a school and give it to them. We can not be the boss, we must be equals. We must work along side them in building the school. Sometimes it means helping them learn how to take care of chickens so they can build the school themselves. This brings dignity.
Friday, January 16, 2009
We have arrived in Zambia!
We arrived in Zambia weary, but excited. The bus ride to Choma was a bumpy one. I wanted to close my eyes, but I was afraid I would miss something. The road was lined with women, men, and children who were selling coal, corn, or corn meal. Many women were selling themselves in order to survive. This has given the road the nickname "AIDS Highway." This is the only road for carrying goods into Choma and other cities in the southern part of Zambia.
We arrived late Saturday night and worship on Sunday. They sang a song in English for us, but most was in Tonga. While I couldn't understand a word, I felt included in spirit. I want to sing in a choir just like that in Heaven. At the end of the service we filed out one roll at a time. Outside the church building people got in a roll. As you come out the door you shake each person's hand and give a traditional greeting, which is returned. At the end of the line, you take your place and wait for everyone to leave. It was amazing. I met the whole church.
Most of the week we spent in classes getting to know all the programs here. They are extensive and exciting. I will post more later. Yesterday we went into a community trust (village). You will learn more about this later also. I have to tell you about a few things that happened now, while it is still fresh in my mind.
A woman with a child at her breast came to me. I couldn't understand what she wanted. She held the baby and said, "She needs you" followed by more words I could not understand. I was heart broken because I could not fill her request. I finally placed my hand on the child's head and blessed and prayer for the girl. The mother relaxed and sat down with the other women. I pray that God gives this mother the request. I was told that the child was probably sick. Because many of the people believe in the power of prayer, she was content with what I had to offer.
While I sat with some women, an older woman, came and asked my age. I told her 46 and she told me she was 56. All the women began to clap and shout. They were celebrating the woman's senior age. Not many people here see 56 years. I celebrated with them while my soul was somber.
It seems that the needs are so simple, but you don't have to be here long to understand there are no simple solutions.
We arrived late Saturday night and worship on Sunday. They sang a song in English for us, but most was in Tonga. While I couldn't understand a word, I felt included in spirit. I want to sing in a choir just like that in Heaven. At the end of the service we filed out one roll at a time. Outside the church building people got in a roll. As you come out the door you shake each person's hand and give a traditional greeting, which is returned. At the end of the line, you take your place and wait for everyone to leave. It was amazing. I met the whole church.
Most of the week we spent in classes getting to know all the programs here. They are extensive and exciting. I will post more later. Yesterday we went into a community trust (village). You will learn more about this later also. I have to tell you about a few things that happened now, while it is still fresh in my mind.
A woman with a child at her breast came to me. I couldn't understand what she wanted. She held the baby and said, "She needs you" followed by more words I could not understand. I was heart broken because I could not fill her request. I finally placed my hand on the child's head and blessed and prayer for the girl. The mother relaxed and sat down with the other women. I pray that God gives this mother the request. I was told that the child was probably sick. Because many of the people believe in the power of prayer, she was content with what I had to offer.
While I sat with some women, an older woman, came and asked my age. I told her 46 and she told me she was 56. All the women began to clap and shout. They were celebrating the woman's senior age. Not many people here see 56 years. I celebrated with them while my soul was somber.
It seems that the needs are so simple, but you don't have to be here long to understand there are no simple solutions.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
1 week to go
One week from now I will be on my way to Zambia. So a little case of nerves settling in. Leaving Mike, home, my bed, my bathroom! I don't want to see a snake or a giant spider. I spent an hour in Wal-mart buying over the counter medicines, Pepto, anti-itch and anti-bacterial ointment, travel iron with dual wattage, sunscreen and bug spray. I'm 145.00 poorer. Am I still excited? Yes!
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