“Lindsay in Zambia.” I just can’t manage to change the title of my blog. I certainly am not IN Zambia anymore, but my heart remains. I am dreaming of my friends and family there constantly. I am waking up at odd hours in the night, thinking it’s time for breakfast. I am wondering where all the flies and spiders went. And I’m getting used to a shower head pouring a continuous flow of water over myself while standing; no buckets needed. More than that; I find myself acting bizarre in social situations. The other day a neighbor child threw a snow ball at my dog. I said, “Ah! Iwe!” And thought nothing of it until hours later. (For those who don’t know, “iwe” means “you,” and people use the expression all the time to tease or shame or what-not). And today I surprised myself again by trying to pay for my haircut with a 20,000 kwacha. The lady just looked at me blankly. I was like, “Iwe, just take my money!” Good gracious.
Needless to say the transition to home has come with its ups and downs. I’ve had a hard time accepting all of the hooplah that goes on during this time of year. Shockingly, I did make it to the outlet stores with my dad, but not without hesitation. It’s amazing what we spend on a bunch of nonsense during Christmas. I read an article in the newspaper entitled, “Jesus Saves, Christians Spend.” While this is a general statement, sadly it’s true for many of us. Welcome to the Western World.
Now, instead of utilizing this post to critique my culture and everyone surrounding me, I think I’ll keep some things to myself. I clearly don’t have it all together, so there’s no reason for me to explain how others have it backwards themselves. I am trying to enjoy life back home as best I can, while brainstorming ways of keeping the door open to adventures back in Africa.
In fact, I think my trip home was evidence that the door to Africa can remain open as long as I want. Before I left for Zambia, I had read about a man in the Denver area who started a project that helps Africans begin their own business. I got in touch with him before leaving, but didn’t have time to meet with him. I thought I should see if he’d be free when I got back to Denver, so sent him an email. Lo and behold, he was in Kenya and was scheduled to fly through Heathrow on the same day, within one hour, of me! We arranged to meet there…who would have ever guessed! After our discussion I felt inspired. I then used the rest of my pounds to by a huge coffee from Starbucks, something I had been missing for the last 4 months. From there I boarded the plane, feeling so on top of the world that when the dude who greeted me on board said, “How are you! Looks like you got yourself a nice big coffee!” I almost kissed him.
You see, I had just spent the night prior struggling to get to the hotel I had booked, wearing hardly enough clothing to save me from hypothermia, going every which way on the tube…including the wrong way followed by the right way, followed by the wrong way again. Ya it was kind of scary. I had been looking forward to no longer standing out in a crowd, but I guess it wasn’t yet time. I still had to draw attention to myself in London with my light weight jacket and short trousers. While descending, the pilot announced that it was 4 degrees Celsius outside; I quickly did the math. Yep, it’s gonna be a long night. I wanted to tell some lady on the tube who was staring at my bare legs that yes, those are what we call goose bumps.
But during those moments of boarding the plane with my coffee in hand, I felt something I was sure could be trusted. Something…bigger. It was like despite everything that ever was or ever will be, somehow, I felt so much good I could almost burst with excitement. It was fascinating, overwhelming, thrilling, and comforting all at the same time. What I felt was a simple expression of what it means to live in God’s world. Perhaps my bond with Africa has only just begun.
