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.