Today we visited children in the OVC program (orphans and vulnerable children). I could tell you about each of the children we visited, but I just can’t put what I’m feeling into words. There were more starving children, children with dreams that seem out of reach for a fourteen year old child who has never owned a pair of shoes. There was a girl who is stigmatized because her mother cannot afford $3.00 for a uniform. This makes her poor among the poor.
I gently laid my hand on the mother’s back as I prayed for her and her children, and she wept. It was the tears of a lonely woman who wants what all mothers want, a better life for her children than she had.
Today a fourteen year old girl, named Mercy, invaded my reality. Keep in mind that I have raised many girls with horror stories of their own. Can you, should you become sensitized to children's nightmares? This girl was obviously living by herself. She told us she was a Christian. I asked her who she could ask for help if she needed it. She looked at me for the first time and said, “no one.” She is attending school, because she wants to be a teacher. Her gaze never met mine again. She did what many females do here, look away or down. In the back ground of our circle sat an elderly man watching us. Most men in a village will approach the group, shake all of our hands and join the visit. I felt Satan’s presence. I knew there was a battle being waged for this young girl’s life. We laid hands on her and prayed for protection, prayed for her life in Christ to stay strong, for her choices to be God’s choices.
Poverty is in bed with Satan. It steals the hope of the oppressed. Without hope minds begin to see no way out. When you see no way out, creative solutions erode. It is like the imagination of a child who builds a sand castle and dreams of being a princess. The tide comes in and beats against the walls until they cave in. The child says, “Why build another one? The tide will come again.” In a state of defeat, the child’s thoughts do not see that building the castle farther from the ocean would bring victory.
It is so easy to be overwhelmed with the great need and do nothing. Doesn’t Satan just love that? We may not be able to save the whole world, but we can send one child to school. It will be one less child who will not sell her body for school supplies and a uniform.
On the lighter side: I will be leaving Choma, Zambia two weeks from today. We are going to Livingstone to see Victoria Falls (one of the Seven Wonders of the World) and go on a safari. I can’t wait for these adventures, and to be home. I miss my family and friends.
Today I was given a Zambian name, Mayi Bbusa, by my sister Maureen. It means “Wife of the Shepherd.” It is what a pastor’s wife is called here to show respect for her.
We also stopped at the mission house in Zimba and were served tacos and brownies. Joan Wallace, the missionary nurse, was a great hostess. We have come to really care about Joan, and not just because she serves us great food.
Our new guest house now has hot water, which we are very grateful for. If you live in Wabash, see you in two weeks.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
God is Still Challenging Me
WARNING: I am writing the next two entrys at the end of a long day, so please excuse typos, or any embarrassing things I might have below.
How can a day be both wonderful and disheartening? Tuesday we visited HIV/AIDS clients in their homes. It was raining so many of the visits took place in the kitchens. A kitchen is a small short hut with a slow burning fire in the middle. We sat on Tonga stools, short pieces of carved wood, while the families sit on the dirt floors. The smoke burned my eyes, and in such a small place there was no getting away from it. The first client was a young man. He is in constant pain. His father is helping him, and his mother has not been “right” since her son was diagnosed with the virus. There are no counseling opportunities for families of AIDS patients.
The second home was an entire family. Both the husband and wife have tested positive, plus two of their children. This family is unique because the couple is still together, and the husband has been tested. Their prayer request is to live long enough to see their children be able to care for their basic needs. Do husband and wife share the fear that they will out live their children? Precious little Grace may not see many birthdays. The mother sat silent while the father did most of the talking. She did not make eye contact or engage with us. Most of the villages we visit do not have men present, but if they are, they do a lot of the talking. I asked the mother what she does when she feels sad. She said, “I never feel sad.” When the interpreter asked the question differently I was told that she refuses to be sad because this would take away from the joy of being able to accomplish small things.
The third home was a mother with an infant, both are positive. The mother has so little to eat that her breast milk has dried up. This 3 month baby is eating shema, the corn meal staple, when that is available. The mother prays for more food so the baby will not cry from hunger. Because the mother has an empty stomach she gets sick from the ARVs. These medications must be taken with good food, something in short supply everywhere we go.
In the fourth home I was the only team member who could enter the kitchen. It was the smallest, and it had a bed in it. The child was the client. Many of these children are being raised by elderly grandparents or aunts. This makes these elderly people, who no longer can work very vulnerable, which in turn, makes the child more vulnerable. Many will be married off at an early age, due to lack of resources to care for all the children. The prayer request in this home: That God would add days to the child’s life.
What do we do on these visits? We listen to their stories. We read them Bible passages, as 90% of Zambians do not own their own Bibles. We touch them as we pray for them, and as is the custom, we bring them a gift. The gift is mealy meal (the stuff for Shema), a bag of sugar, and a bottle of cooking oil. This means survival for two more weeks, perhaps three if they only eat once a day. The miracle of this gift is the receiver. They do not think in terms of how long they can feed their family with this gift. They will share what little they have with whoever around them has the need. They will not have full stomachs while their neighbors’ stomach is empty.
All this emotion in one day. I think I will spend the rest of my life putting all the images floating around in my head into categories God can use.
How can a day be both wonderful and disheartening? Tuesday we visited HIV/AIDS clients in their homes. It was raining so many of the visits took place in the kitchens. A kitchen is a small short hut with a slow burning fire in the middle. We sat on Tonga stools, short pieces of carved wood, while the families sit on the dirt floors. The smoke burned my eyes, and in such a small place there was no getting away from it. The first client was a young man. He is in constant pain. His father is helping him, and his mother has not been “right” since her son was diagnosed with the virus. There are no counseling opportunities for families of AIDS patients.
The second home was an entire family. Both the husband and wife have tested positive, plus two of their children. This family is unique because the couple is still together, and the husband has been tested. Their prayer request is to live long enough to see their children be able to care for their basic needs. Do husband and wife share the fear that they will out live their children? Precious little Grace may not see many birthdays. The mother sat silent while the father did most of the talking. She did not make eye contact or engage with us. Most of the villages we visit do not have men present, but if they are, they do a lot of the talking. I asked the mother what she does when she feels sad. She said, “I never feel sad.” When the interpreter asked the question differently I was told that she refuses to be sad because this would take away from the joy of being able to accomplish small things.
The third home was a mother with an infant, both are positive. The mother has so little to eat that her breast milk has dried up. This 3 month baby is eating shema, the corn meal staple, when that is available. The mother prays for more food so the baby will not cry from hunger. Because the mother has an empty stomach she gets sick from the ARVs. These medications must be taken with good food, something in short supply everywhere we go.
In the fourth home I was the only team member who could enter the kitchen. It was the smallest, and it had a bed in it. The child was the client. Many of these children are being raised by elderly grandparents or aunts. This makes these elderly people, who no longer can work very vulnerable, which in turn, makes the child more vulnerable. Many will be married off at an early age, due to lack of resources to care for all the children. The prayer request in this home: That God would add days to the child’s life.
What do we do on these visits? We listen to their stories. We read them Bible passages, as 90% of Zambians do not own their own Bibles. We touch them as we pray for them, and as is the custom, we bring them a gift. The gift is mealy meal (the stuff for Shema), a bag of sugar, and a bottle of cooking oil. This means survival for two more weeks, perhaps three if they only eat once a day. The miracle of this gift is the receiver. They do not think in terms of how long they can feed their family with this gift. They will share what little they have with whoever around them has the need. They will not have full stomachs while their neighbors’ stomach is empty.
All this emotion in one day. I think I will spend the rest of my life putting all the images floating around in my head into categories God can use.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Being Used
When I was asked what project I wanted to work on I chose community planning. I put youth ministry as my last choice. I wanted to learn something new. My choice was based on what was good for me.
This week I was asked to attend a pastor's week of training. The training was to educate pastors on the HIV/AIDS Pandemic and how to support the youth in their congregations. "Youth" is anyone 12 to 30 who is not married. This is the age group that is at the greatest risk for HIV/AIDS in Zambia.
On Monday I was asked to co-facilitate a session on mentoring and disciplining youth. At the end of the week, I realized that God used my weird collection of experience with youth to minister to a group of male and female pastors that know they are losing their youth due to a fast change in culture and tradition. They do not know how to work with this new generation of youth, but they are so anxious and willing. At the beginning of the session I told them that we Americans may say something to embarrass ourselves, and they should feel free to laugh at us. We did not disappoint them. They were gracious,however, even when I used the word "dating." You see, in this culture you would never "date" except for the purpose of having sex. They asked us if youths dated more than one person. Audrey said, "all the time." They gave us the Christian look of shame. :) Finally, the WHIZ facilitator clued us in. We have had many laughs about this in the last few days. When I explained that I was talking about a time to talk and get to know the person, and find out whether the person was as godly as they claimed to be, I was in good graces again. I feel blessed to have been used in a critical area. I'm so glad God does not always give us what we want.
We moved this week into the new WHIZ guest house. It is beautiful and large. Most importantly we have almost constant internet access. I finally downloaded research that I desperately needed. We are thrilled to be the first team to use this new facility, and realize this may be considered a selfish thrill :)
We were moved at night, probably when the truck was available. We had a few surprises waiting for us, even though we were excited. First, since the bunk beds would not fit in the rooms we were suppose to stay in, we were put in a room that had not been cleaned or have full screens on the windows. Due to mosquitos, we had to keep the windows closed. It got a little toasty. The next surprise came when I needed to use the toilet. I lifted the lid, and lets just say it was nasty in there. Next I realized there was an open window. I went to close it and a baby frog jumped on me from the window sill. I screamed. Next, Audrey came running into our bedroom to let me know the door had to be shut because a bat was in the house. Brandon chased it back into the attic, and we were safe once more. We are calling him Batman. The last surprise was how cold shower time was. I think God just needed to remind us we were in Africa even though we had moved up in the world.
Today a flatbed truck pulled up with the remainder of "stuff." Boxes are hard to come by here so most things were just thrown on. We have managed to get most of it put away. We wanted to surprise our housekeeper. She is a wonderful woman who serves in amazing ways, with a quiet and patient spirit. While she has not literally washed our feet, she has served us in the same humble way. I have prayed that some of her gentleness would rub off on me, but I'm still just as vocal as I was when I arrived in January :)
This week I was asked to attend a pastor's week of training. The training was to educate pastors on the HIV/AIDS Pandemic and how to support the youth in their congregations. "Youth" is anyone 12 to 30 who is not married. This is the age group that is at the greatest risk for HIV/AIDS in Zambia.
On Monday I was asked to co-facilitate a session on mentoring and disciplining youth. At the end of the week, I realized that God used my weird collection of experience with youth to minister to a group of male and female pastors that know they are losing their youth due to a fast change in culture and tradition. They do not know how to work with this new generation of youth, but they are so anxious and willing. At the beginning of the session I told them that we Americans may say something to embarrass ourselves, and they should feel free to laugh at us. We did not disappoint them. They were gracious,however, even when I used the word "dating." You see, in this culture you would never "date" except for the purpose of having sex. They asked us if youths dated more than one person. Audrey said, "all the time." They gave us the Christian look of shame. :) Finally, the WHIZ facilitator clued us in. We have had many laughs about this in the last few days. When I explained that I was talking about a time to talk and get to know the person, and find out whether the person was as godly as they claimed to be, I was in good graces again. I feel blessed to have been used in a critical area. I'm so glad God does not always give us what we want.
We moved this week into the new WHIZ guest house. It is beautiful and large. Most importantly we have almost constant internet access. I finally downloaded research that I desperately needed. We are thrilled to be the first team to use this new facility, and realize this may be considered a selfish thrill :)
We were moved at night, probably when the truck was available. We had a few surprises waiting for us, even though we were excited. First, since the bunk beds would not fit in the rooms we were suppose to stay in, we were put in a room that had not been cleaned or have full screens on the windows. Due to mosquitos, we had to keep the windows closed. It got a little toasty. The next surprise came when I needed to use the toilet. I lifted the lid, and lets just say it was nasty in there. Next I realized there was an open window. I went to close it and a baby frog jumped on me from the window sill. I screamed. Next, Audrey came running into our bedroom to let me know the door had to be shut because a bat was in the house. Brandon chased it back into the attic, and we were safe once more. We are calling him Batman. The last surprise was how cold shower time was. I think God just needed to remind us we were in Africa even though we had moved up in the world.
Today a flatbed truck pulled up with the remainder of "stuff." Boxes are hard to come by here so most things were just thrown on. We have managed to get most of it put away. We wanted to surprise our housekeeper. She is a wonderful woman who serves in amazing ways, with a quiet and patient spirit. While she has not literally washed our feet, she has served us in the same humble way. I have prayed that some of her gentleness would rub off on me, but I'm still just as vocal as I was when I arrived in January :)
Laughter is Universal
As I am writing this I am listening to Matthew West on my laptop. I am so proud of myself, because I discovered how to download music off my mp3 player. In
This past week, I had the blessing to help deliver incentives to a village trust. Incentives are bestowed on trusts who are faithful stewards with what God has given them through World Hope International Zambia (WHIZ). The incentives consisted of 2 bags of corn meal, oil, sugar, soap, and laundry soap. This is enough to feed a family for a few weeks. These women laughed, praised God with song, and celebrated. We were told simply that the food had come just in time.
An elderly woman carried two bags of corn meal on her head to deposit into the church building. Another woman with a baby on her back carried three bags on her head. Each bag weighs about 23 pounds. I walked over and asked the men in the truck to place two bags on my head. The women laughed and clapped and let me know they appreciated my effort to follow their way. It was heavy, but fun. When I returned to the truck, the staff asked if I wanted to try three bags. I declined and accepted my two. The women laughed. The greatest joy I have experienced in
There was a drum outside the church, and I asked if anyone played. A young man was brought from the church to play. Charlotte, a team member, began moving her feet and soon several women came from the church to dance with her. The song was about God’s faithfulness. An elderly woman came out and ran in front of the young women making the loud celebratory noise we have come to enjoy. The pastor’s wife threw her a shatanga cloth and she made another trip down the line of girls waving it over them. It looked like a blessing.
I had my camera with me. I took a picture of a woman with her child. I showed her the picture on the back of my camera, and she was amazed. We have learned that taking pictures brings a lot of excitement in the village, for the young and old alike. They all want their pictures taken and then look at it. I wonder how many of these people have never seen themselves since mirrors are rare. Even in our guest house there are only two mirrors and both are the medicine cabinet size. There are no full length mirrors. Every morning you depend on your team members to tell you if something is showing that shouldn’t be.
The good thing is that I can’t see how much weight I have put on, eating mostly carbs. The first ingredient in bread is vegetable oil. It is hard to imagine that pasta could be starchier than at home, but it is true. Chicken is breaded and fried. Why would you have diet anything in a country where most people look like match sticks? That starchy shema keeps them full longer. I have been told I am fat. This is a compliment. It means you are healthy. In the
I always try to end the blog entry with something upbeat. Here it is: I have laughed more this past week than I have the whole time I have been here. My good friend
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Challenges and Lusaka
The last few weeks have flown by. There have been many struggles in our group that have challenged us all. Please pray for our team that now consists of two groups. One group of ten has returned to the states early and four students plus Dr. Garner and his wife make up those remaining in Africa.
Before part of the team returned to America, we had the opportunity to visit Lusaka, the capital city for three nights. I finally got a latte. I was one happy read headed American. We toured the University of Zambia, the only university in the country. There are 5,000 students. Few people in Zambia can attend. You must have money and very high grades.
We also went to the zoo where we were about 4 feet from lions. They were eating chicken, whole. Feathers everywhere and it smelled terrible. The lions did not seem happy to have visiters during dinner, and I jumped when it roared at us. They are really loud when you are that close. We also saw Pumbaa, the wart hog. Well, his name was not really Pumbaa, but that is what we called him. Our Zambian hostess, Maureen, began singing a Lion King song, and we all bust out laughing. She is usually so quiet. Some things are just universal.
We also went to an urban trust. It was much different than a rural trust. The houses were so close to each other. Everywhere you looked trash lined the streets. Along the same roads, produce and chickens were offered by women hoping to gain a little quatcha (currency). There was a barber shop which consisted of a chair in front of the house. The innocent children, however, looked the same, happy to have visitors. They seem void of the knowledge that life is hard for them.
Some elderly women showed us their school, which had a dirt floor and no chairs. Those teachers, without a college education, were so proud of that building and the one broken chalk board they shared. These wonderful people show us over and over that empowerment should be the goal of all ministry. Programs only work when they create dignity and worth. Anything else is just a handout that continues to keep the “have nots” dependant on the “haves.” In other words, we continue to help others in order to feed our own egos or financial interests.
The pastor of the church in this trust is the only pastor for 500 people. I asked him if he dealt with a lot of HIV/AIDS, and he slowly and sadly replied, “Yes, and all I can do is pray and try to comfort them.” I told him that was the most important thing to do. In reality, however, I was mad. This gentle man is working in a community with an extremely high rate of HIV/AIDS and massive poverty, but he has received no seminary education as a pastor. He has no training in grief counseling. It appears to this outsider that these people have been left alone to struggle and die. They are neglected by THE church. This was the only place we have been where people made rude gestures at us or threw soft things at our vehicle. It is easy to see how anger can pour from so much suffering.
That evening we went to a Chinese restaurant. It was in an empty warehouse. It felt almost wrong after the sights of the day. All I could think of was my mom telling us to eat all our food because children in Africa were starving. I ate all my food and not one child in Africa was less hungry. On the other hand, it was a fun place and allowed everyone to relax after a long hard day.
On Sunday we went to church and all the praise songs were in English. I did not realize how much I missed praising God with words as well as music. Since my church in Choma is poor, we have no song books to use. Some people have a song book of their own, and if you are blessed enough to sit next to one of them, they will share with you. The songs are in Tonga, but you can at least pretend you are singing them right. It helped me to realize how hard it must be for those who immigrate to America without speaking English. How precious is a hymn sung in your heart language.
After church we went to a market to buy suveinirs. Most of the students really had fun, but I struggled with it. The sellers would give you a big price and then you would barter. I just had a hard time bartering with people who were starving. If I told them no thank you, they would say, “What is your offer?” If you walked away they would say things like, “Please Madame, look and offer. I need to buy food” or “Madame, business is slow, and I need to pay my space rent.” Now, in America this is often a business tactic, but many of these people were selling for someone else and really knew the meaning of hunger. I knew the patchwork purse offered had been stitched on a foot powered trendle machine. The going price? 15,000 k, or 3 U.S. dollars.
I began to get sick at the market and by Monday morning I was very sick. By night fall, I thought I was going to die. Not really, but close. Tuesday morning I went to the clinic, where I was admitted for dehydration and some bacteria thing. I about paniced when I saw the room, where three beds were placed. The bed was covered with something that looked like a blue checkered table cloth. The needle was new and wrapped. There was only one size so it was very painful as the nurse shoved it into the back of my hand. I noticed that my nurse did not wear gloves when she inflicted pain on my person. This really surprised me, especially in a country with a high HIV/AIDS rate. Patients’ families must bring in their food, which I had to smell when the lady next to me received her visitor. I survived the ordeal and am feeling much better. They took good care of me, and I saw my doctor about 8 times in that 8 hours.
As I type this, I am counting the weeks until I return home. I have 4 weeks from today of classes left, and will be home in 4.5 weeks. I am not anxious to leave behind the Zambian people or the friends I have made. I wish I could bring all of you here. Since I can’t, however, I am looking forward to being home. See you soon.
Before part of the team returned to America, we had the opportunity to visit Lusaka, the capital city for three nights. I finally got a latte. I was one happy read headed American. We toured the University of Zambia, the only university in the country. There are 5,000 students. Few people in Zambia can attend. You must have money and very high grades.
We also went to the zoo where we were about 4 feet from lions. They were eating chicken, whole. Feathers everywhere and it smelled terrible. The lions did not seem happy to have visiters during dinner, and I jumped when it roared at us. They are really loud when you are that close. We also saw Pumbaa, the wart hog. Well, his name was not really Pumbaa, but that is what we called him. Our Zambian hostess, Maureen, began singing a Lion King song, and we all bust out laughing. She is usually so quiet. Some things are just universal.
We also went to an urban trust. It was much different than a rural trust. The houses were so close to each other. Everywhere you looked trash lined the streets. Along the same roads, produce and chickens were offered by women hoping to gain a little quatcha (currency). There was a barber shop which consisted of a chair in front of the house. The innocent children, however, looked the same, happy to have visitors. They seem void of the knowledge that life is hard for them.
Some elderly women showed us their school, which had a dirt floor and no chairs. Those teachers, without a college education, were so proud of that building and the one broken chalk board they shared. These wonderful people show us over and over that empowerment should be the goal of all ministry. Programs only work when they create dignity and worth. Anything else is just a handout that continues to keep the “have nots” dependant on the “haves.” In other words, we continue to help others in order to feed our own egos or financial interests.
The pastor of the church in this trust is the only pastor for 500 people. I asked him if he dealt with a lot of HIV/AIDS, and he slowly and sadly replied, “Yes, and all I can do is pray and try to comfort them.” I told him that was the most important thing to do. In reality, however, I was mad. This gentle man is working in a community with an extremely high rate of HIV/AIDS and massive poverty, but he has received no seminary education as a pastor. He has no training in grief counseling. It appears to this outsider that these people have been left alone to struggle and die. They are neglected by THE church. This was the only place we have been where people made rude gestures at us or threw soft things at our vehicle. It is easy to see how anger can pour from so much suffering.
That evening we went to a Chinese restaurant. It was in an empty warehouse. It felt almost wrong after the sights of the day. All I could think of was my mom telling us to eat all our food because children in Africa were starving. I ate all my food and not one child in Africa was less hungry. On the other hand, it was a fun place and allowed everyone to relax after a long hard day.
On Sunday we went to church and all the praise songs were in English. I did not realize how much I missed praising God with words as well as music. Since my church in Choma is poor, we have no song books to use. Some people have a song book of their own, and if you are blessed enough to sit next to one of them, they will share with you. The songs are in Tonga, but you can at least pretend you are singing them right. It helped me to realize how hard it must be for those who immigrate to America without speaking English. How precious is a hymn sung in your heart language.
After church we went to a market to buy suveinirs. Most of the students really had fun, but I struggled with it. The sellers would give you a big price and then you would barter. I just had a hard time bartering with people who were starving. If I told them no thank you, they would say, “What is your offer?” If you walked away they would say things like, “Please Madame, look and offer. I need to buy food” or “Madame, business is slow, and I need to pay my space rent.” Now, in America this is often a business tactic, but many of these people were selling for someone else and really knew the meaning of hunger. I knew the patchwork purse offered had been stitched on a foot powered trendle machine. The going price? 15,000 k, or 3 U.S. dollars.
I began to get sick at the market and by Monday morning I was very sick. By night fall, I thought I was going to die. Not really, but close. Tuesday morning I went to the clinic, where I was admitted for dehydration and some bacteria thing. I about paniced when I saw the room, where three beds were placed. The bed was covered with something that looked like a blue checkered table cloth. The needle was new and wrapped. There was only one size so it was very painful as the nurse shoved it into the back of my hand. I noticed that my nurse did not wear gloves when she inflicted pain on my person. This really surprised me, especially in a country with a high HIV/AIDS rate. Patients’ families must bring in their food, which I had to smell when the lady next to me received her visitor. I survived the ordeal and am feeling much better. They took good care of me, and I saw my doctor about 8 times in that 8 hours.
As I type this, I am counting the weeks until I return home. I have 4 weeks from today of classes left, and will be home in 4.5 weeks. I am not anxious to leave behind the Zambian people or the friends I have made. I wish I could bring all of you here. Since I can’t, however, I am looking forward to being home. See you soon.
Monday, March 2, 2009
No internet
I am paying by the minute so this is just a notice not to worry about lack of info. Hopefully, I will be back to posting soon.
Miss you all so very much.
Me
Miss you all so very much.
Me
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