Muzungu muzungu!

I am going to miss Zambia like crazy. But there is one thing I won’t miss:  the minibuses.  

Every morning I leave the house at about 8. I have to pump myself up as I walk down the road, turn left, turn right, cross the street, cross the next street, and wait for a blue little bus to pull over and yell “bwera mami!” or “come, (mommy?)!”  And on my way to the bus I have all this self-talk going on. Like, “It’s okay Linds. It’s just that these people hardly ever see a white person walking in their neighborhood (or maybe they never have).” “Or, no, you aren’t a bad person if you ignore that man. You can do this.” And, “Okay be careful not to fall. Look at the ground closely!”  I stand out enough; I can’t imagine falling on my face. I can see the headlines now: “Muzungu, the one who carries the pink purse and walks down Burma Road every day at about 8:15, falls flat on her face, suffers minor injuries to nose.” 

So this morning, just while I was congratulating myself that I had remained calm and hadn’t fallen or anything, I literally almost got smashed by a car. I most definitely caused a halt in rush hour traffic, I might have even caused an accident. I don’t remember. But to make myself feel better about the situation, I instinctively said too lazy.  

I then boarded a bus and joined a number of men who were utterly shocked that such a person like me would be on their bus. It was entertaining, but not that exciting at the same time. One greeted me in Nyanja and when I responded in their language, wow was there a cheer. At least I give people something to talk about.  

Riding the minibuses has taken me some time. In the beginning of my stay here, I was being picked up in a vehicle. When vehicles no longer became available, I had to start fending for myself. I certainly could take a taxi every day, but, for real, a fifty cent ride to work compared with a five dollar ride to work…not a complicated decision for me. Riding the bus was a gradual process, and even after weeks of going and coming with a friend who told me exactly where to get off, I still didn’t know where I lived or where exactly my workplace was. When I finally arrived to the office all by myself one morning, having withstood the foreseeable comments by the driver, I was congratulated by my colleagues. Someone asked for proof that I actually did it. I guess I could have shown him the huge bruises on my knee, for certainly learning how to get in and out of those buses devoid of injury is a gradual process as well. On my way off the bus for the first week or so, I naturally hit my head, hard. And I still have bruises on my right knee. But I think I have mastered the process at this point.  

Now of course there are muzungus in Zambia, and especially in Lusaka, but many of them congregate in the same area (nowhere near my house). Some colleagues and I were driving around the other day, pointing out each and every muzungu we saw. “There’s one!” “Oh look, another one!” I was playing the same game that people play when they see me. We should give the game a title, instead of Where’s Waldo, ask, Where’s Muzunugu? And boy do we ever look white or what. 

To be quite honest, it is not a pleasant situation to stand out so much. But now I believe I can empathize with a number of people in this world who face such challenges every day of their lives. I was told that if I lived in Africa for a long time, I would get used to it. Ya, I’m not so sure about that. Even still, riding these buses and hearing all the whispers and comments every day will never spoil my time here. I absolutely love this place and am praying that my return will come sooner than later. After leaving, I imagine myself only wishing I was walking down Burma Road with my pink purse again, on my way to the office. I’ve been blessed in everything; minibuses and all!

God’s voice… in the newspaper?

I was reading a couple Zambian newspapers today and all of a sudden I was struck with something that let’s say, put me in my place. Let me share some of the titles or excerpts of these articles: “When Fiwila Orphanage Angels Turned Evil.” “Madonna’s efforts to put the plight of the country’s AIDS orphans on the global stage and raising money to support them.” “The Church is being lumped together with the civil society, shame on us, the Church has lost direction.” “Warming of the climate system is unequivocal and governments must take action to avoid catastrophic consequences…Attributed mainly to greenhouse gas concentrations caused by human activities.” “The death toll from last Thursday night’s devastating cyclonic storm Sidr in Bangladesh rose to 2000 on Saturday evening.” 

I just cannot fathom how initially well-intentioned Catholic women could begin to abuse and neglect orphans whom they were supposed to love. These two women were visitors in Zambia, and have since returned to their home country due to potential prosecution. And how does international law come into play? I don’t think at all. For they will in all probability be protected by their government and will not face any consequences. These poor small children, who’ve already suffered the tragedy of losing both parents, our most vulnerable individuals in society; are treated as slaves. 

And while our friends around the world are inflicting pain on innocent people, while corruption drives governments and police forces in their decision-making, and while millions are dying because of lack of resources, even still we face natural disasters. It’s devastating to watch the news reports at night, some of us choose not to as the rising death tolls cause us to feel uneasy. We might feel secure in our lives, but where is this security coming from? Is it all a fantasy that everything is okay as we leave our house, drive in our car, and compute calculations on our computer? I am not writing this to condemn, but to raise the questions in our minds. What are we, what am I, doing with my life? We won’t be on earth forever, so why do we strive so hard to “make it,” when while we are asleep amidst our aspirations to succeed, we’re struck by lightning, and suddenly it’s over.  

Don’t we as individuals, those of us who cringe at the sight of someone being abused, have the obligation to be a moral voice in society? I feel convicted, and when this happens all I can do is write, to express my thoughts, before my next step. There are some things that touch some of us more than others, and I believe it is these quiet voices that are to urge us to speak out for those who cannot. If it pains you to see a co-worker being treated unjustly, ask yourself why? Perhaps someone is trying to give you a message.  

I wonder if God has so miraculously created this universe to be one in which we are adequately and divinely able to stand up for everyone who cannot. What if, for every person who does not have the strength to speak, there is one who has been given that strength? What if God created our world in such a way that we really could eliminate poverty by simply listening to what we hear in the depths of our soul?  Every one of us exerts an influence in society. If we listen to our inner voice, perhaps what the good Lord has so delicately spoken, and ask God for the courage to respond, our world would be a better place. Can we turn the music off long enough to simply listen, and notice, what touches us? Do we fear being unsuccessful in such a social justice pursuit? None of us must enter public life, or come up with some political agenda, to create a better life for another human being.  Let’s listen to that voice and never fear to take a stand. It might just be the long-awaited answer to somebody’s prayer. 

Ground nuts and other pleasantries

I think it’s about time for an update. I greatly appreciate the encouraging words you all have posted. It keeps me going and makes me want to write more often. Hmm…now I ask myself, have I been able to write more often?!

The last few weeks have been busy, like always. For four days we had our CRWRC staff spiritual retreat followed by a strategic planning meeting. The first two days were spent in worship and fun. We had a scavenger hunt, played soccer and volleyball, and went swimming. I even beat a coworker in a dart game! (I only shared that so he’d comment on my blog).  The last two were spent in important meetings that had to do with critiquing how CRWRC is doing in Zambia, and how to move forward. I am already sensing that the “important meetings” part is causing you to doze…so let’s move on to the exciting stuff.

After this retreat we drove across the country. The other volunteer from the States picked two of us up in the morning in the new USAID vehicle. It’s a brand new Toyota Hilux; pretty fancy. One of our partners in Lundazi was to receive the vehicle for their programs. The roads here in Zambia are something I have failed to talk about. I find myself in the back of many vehicles holding on to the handle as tightly as I can. Instead of getting annoyed by the bumpiness, I simply imagine myself going four wheeling through the mountains. It makes those terribly long road trips a little more enjoyable. I have also learned to not drink any fluids before or during such a trip, as the pressure in the abdomen together with the bumpity-bumpity-bumps create quite an unpleasant experience, if you can only imagine.

We arrived to our destination, Chipata, sometime in the afternoon. My colleague and I were there to once again evaluate the same programs which I’ve talked about previously. This time we stayed at a lodge which was actually in “the bush.” I remember when I first came to Zambia, people told me that they used to live in “the bush,” and I could only picture a large green prickly bundle of plants, not knowing what they really meant, and also not exactly having a strong desire to go there. The bush is a most rural area without electricity or running water. I actually can’t honestly say we stayed in the bush, because for a few hours in the evening the generator was turned on, and we were able to bathe in a running water tub. But compared to Lusaka, even the Zambian I was with agreed with me that we were kind of in…the bush. I was most thankful that I had her with me, as for hours we were able to chat and giggle, kill some nasty spiders, and of course, eat.

During our evaluation time in the field, I was once again impressed by the people’s desire to help others in their own community. The visit went much like the other ones I’ve had, so I won’t repeat myself. I enjoyed going from village to village, as it seemed that because we were so deep into the bush that many of them had not had a visitor such as myself. They were extremely welcoming and even gave me gifts such as rare fruits and a natural sponge with which to bathe. A group of women performed a traditional song and dance for me as we were leaving. Dozens of children always gather around to join the meetings we have, I think merely to stare at me with curiosity as we talk. It is always quite an experience. I tell most people that I meet that I can’t wait to share pictures with my family and friends back home, and to them this is very encouraging. So be excited, I have plenty to share!

Our evaluation time is also a chance to be able to see the many challenges that are faced on the ground. I’ve been blessed to be able to see what’s really happening in the field, and will hopefully not forget the struggles people have. Sometimes it’s easy when even working for a faith-based or non-governmental organization to allow our vision to become clouded. Staring at this computer screen might give me the illusion that everything is just okay. It can easily be an alluring distraction from the real world. I hope I don’t allow what I’ve seen to become some distant activity in my past. I hope I remember what the people have shared with us; that there is just not enough food, and that there is just not enough money for the children to attend school. It’s reality. Yet even after they share such difficulties, these beautiful people still have the charisma to dance.

Last Saturday I went to a kitchen party with a friend. This is what we call a bridal shower, but much different. At some parties, hundreds of women may gather for the event, all bringing a gift that is to be used in the kitchen. Many songs are sung and dances performed. Every gift is given to the bride by the one who brought it. She is to walk up to her with the gift and explain how to use it. I will be attending another one this coming Saturday in the Copperbelt, so am already rehearsing what I’ll say. “The first thing you do is plug it in, then take two pieces of bread and place them here, then press this thingie down. Then you just wait until POP! And you have toasted bread.” Remarkable, really.

Yesterday my friend and I walked from the office to some local shops. I was seriously wanting ground nuts (peanuts). For reasons which I’ll explain later, if you’re interested, I’ve been enlightened into the notion behind ground nuts here. You see, they really aren’t intended to be eaten by women. So, I’ve gotten some interesting comments and looks every time I eat them. But, sorry folks, I just can’t give them up. So on our way back from buying ground nuts, we were stopped by a gentleman who was selling chikanda, which is some type of meaty, vegetabley, soft, chewy food. He cut me off a little slice and the first thing I did, of course, was sniff it. Oops. This is also a no-no, and considered quite rude in this culture. I had known that, but it slipped my mind in that moment. The men just laughed at me. I’m sure they recognize that I’m not from here so my behavior will understandably be different. I am doing my best, really. Except for the ground nuts part.

While in Lusaka and working from the office, I am able to work on some manuals that may be used by people in the community. There are two I am currently working on, one for psychosocial counseling, and one for gender and sexuality. It’s apparent that many volunteers in the field who are visiting people with HIV/AIDS should have some counseling training, and while most have had some training, many would benefit from a more in-depth guide. Hopefully I can create something that can be used by those in the community. I have also noticed that gender and sexuality is something that many people are uncomfortable talking about. It is one of the main issues however, when it comes to HIV/AIDS. Male and female sexual behaviors and norms increase their vulnerability to HIV/AIDS. Social practices that exist today are deeply rooted in tradition, and only spread the virus more quickly. I think the issue is a difficult one, and should not be kept hidden.

In a couple days I will travel again to Ndola for the wedding as well as a follow-up visit of one of our programs. This time I will stay with a missionary family from the US whose work in HIV/AIDS has brought about much recognition in Zambia. They have lived here for about five years, and have made great impacts in the lives of so many people. They are meeting with high ranking officials and officers currently, to possibly create partnerships with them, and expand their work throughout the country. So we must keep them in our prayers. They are also friends of my family! I’m excited to stay with them and hear more about how the Lord has been using them. 

Everything is wonderful! I am truly enjoying myself here in all aspects of life. My plan is to come home in December, but to continue praying about whether the Lord would have me here again, and perhaps longer. Many days go by that I feel I shouldn’t be leaving so soon. Though at times I am undeniably home sick, I still wouldn’t change a thing. Isn’t it so true what Jesus tells us? “I have come that you may have life, and have it to the full.” Amen! God bless.

Nakuta, naonga chomene

Wow. Today is October 17th. I must have a bizarre connection with the number 17. I arrived on a 17th, I last wrote a blog on a 17th, I am writing finally again on a 17th, and I am scheduled to depart on December 17th. Is that possible? The thought of leaving in only two months is unreal. I still have yet to ride on an elephant, but no promises. I heard I would get trampled and experience my last few moments on earth. I did however, taste goat meat on my last bus trip. It was not that exciting, but at least it is something I can write home about.

The last month has consisted of much the same activity, though in different locations. For one week staff from CRWRC from eastern and southern African countries came to Lusaka for a strategic planning meeting. It was here they discussed policies and guidelines, current challenges and rewards, and ways forward. Having the opportunity to sit in on these meetings opened my eyes further to the work of CRWRC. It was a great opportunity to be a part of those formal meetings that always seem to occur behind closed doors. I always wondered how policy manuals actually get printed and published.

It was here that I also went on a little jog one morning. I’ll tell you about it. While I was struggling to breathe as I am totally out of shape, I began approaching a local farm. Some of the cows were right along the roadside without fencing. I had to ask myself again, like as if i had forgotten or something, ”Do cows bite? Am I safe to run right in front of the cow’s nose?” I began laughing at myself as I peacefully strolled past him. He seemed just as enthused with my presence as I was with his. The two of us kept our eye contact the entire time, back, and forth. (I was going REALLY slow, he didn’t have to strain his neck at all to follow my movement). I was going to say hello, but wasn’t sure whether he spoke English or the local tribal language there.

Two days later I went for another jog. This time a number of school children came scampering from the field. On my way down the road, I was greeted by about four of them. They all stared at me as I ran by, captivated by my presence. On my way back up the road, the four became about 34. They must have gathered all their friends exclaiming, “Come! Look at that muzungu!” They giggled among each other, saying hello and hi and how are you. I stopped to acknowledge their amazement. What a joy it was to be surrounded by curious children on their way to school.

Please don’t be misled, this was the last of my running. It’s too hot.

I have experienced many interesting things while here. Many times I am the only one laughing about a certain situation. I have to force myself plenty of times to stop laughing because usually it is during a very important meeting or gathering. I just can’t contain myself at times. If my dad were here, we would get in big trouble. It’s not that I am laughing at anyone, it’s just my type of humor is slightly different than some others, so at times I find myself alone in my giggles.

I laughed so hard last night. The young girls in the house and I always hang out together when I get home from work. They taught me one of their tongue twisters which I never was able to repeat. So I taught them some of our tongue twisters. Remember Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear? Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair…. And Peter Piper picked a (is it a pack, patch, or peck??) of pickled peppers…We had a ball together. We almost slept outside because the heat is overwhelming. However just before we made our luxurious sleeping arrangement in the lawn, they decided otherwise. Oh well, we’ll try again soon.

After the week-long meeting, a few of us traveled to Livingstone. This is the home of Victoria Falls. We spent an entire day in the national park, exploring and taking pictures. Unfortunately, we visited during the dryest month of the year. Before going, we were told we would get soaking wet by the waterfall. Actually, we remained as dry as stale bread. To me, the sight was pretty amazing. But to those who had been there before, they were disappointed, and didn’t keep it quiet. Regardless, we had a good time getting to know the famous touristy place.

After this I travelled to Lundazi, which is a far-eastern town, fairly close to Malawi. I spent this week with the staff of CCAP R/D - Central Church in Africa Presbyterian Relief and Development. I was there to evaluate their progress in their home-based care, abstinence and behavior for the youth, and orphans and vulnerable children programs. During this week we had trainings with the volunteers, we visited people in the field, and we ate LOTS of food. At lunch time they would serve me what seemed like a half of a chicken, four pounds of chips (french fries), and three cups of relish. I couldn’t really say that sometimes I only eat cheese and crackers for lunch. Nakuta, naonga chomene means, “I am full, thank you very much,” in the language of the east, Tumbuka. You see, not only do I get to learn Nyanja, which is widely spoken in Lusaka and well-known by many, I also have learned some Bemba, the language in the Copperbelt, and now some Tembuka. There are 72 tribal languages in Zambia. Wow. Talk about confusing.

During my time in Lundazi I met many more volunteers who are reaching out to the most vulnerable in their community. These communities are receiving funding from donors, which will eventually disappear. It is up to the community to create income generating activities for themselves in order that they become self-reliant. Many of these volunteers sounded hopeful that their activities would enable them to continue helping each other. Activities include brick-making and selling, piggery, and baking. I explained to them that I feel so blessed to have met such people as themselves. It is not a community where each one fends for themself, rather, they help each other even when they can hardly help themselves. Some of these stories put me to shame. I am used to being so independent and self-reliant that the thought of taking in any orphan who needs shelter is foreign. I continue to learn from this very generous, hospitable culture.

I have also been asked some very difficult questions by youth in the community. They wonder why HIV/AIDS is not as much of a problem in the West. They ask how they should respond to their friends who are giving men sex for money, only to put food on the table. They seem perplexed with the idea that women in many places in the world have a strong voice in society. These young people are the ones who are teaching the younger youth in their community. It is about behavior change, and behavior will not change until such questions are answered, and until issues of injustice are wrestled with. Some of the questions can only be answered by wise elders in the community, but even they have a difficult time responding to the injustice, as it is so deeply rooted. Therefore, I have seen a great need for community education and support. Injustice that is faced in this country is something to be tackled, and is currently being done by many outside organizations. However, this country cannot completely rely on sources from the outside for their ongoing welfare. As CRWRC, other faith-based organizations, and NGOs respond to the insurmountable needs of this nation, we must all work together in efforts of community empowerment, social justice, and reform.

I get overwhelmed thinking of the needs here, until I remember that if we can touch one life, we have done our job. That one person will then touch another, and so on. We held a training for volunteers on HIV/AIDS issues in Lundazi. One thing we touched on was commonly held myths in society regarding HIV/AIDS. I encouraged the volunteers to probe into the lives of their clients, asking them if they are being discriminated against and excluded from the family because of their disease. Days later, a volunteer told me that they had visited a family of a client who had been forced to eat alone, as the family believed they could get the disease by eating among this person. The volunteers felt convicted to educate this family on real ways of transmission. It is only through one person at a time that we will see positive behavior change. As we know, a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. One baby step at a time.

When working in such difficult circumstances, it is most rewarding to be able to report a success story. A positive story such as the one told to me is what validates these people’s hard work. I have promised to share their story with others, so please read the attachment below to learn about an orphan whose life has been changed through the work of CCAP R/D in the OVC program.

I will be in Lusaka a few days longer before a 4-day spiritual retreat. I will then travel to Chipata to evaluate their same programs. Traveling as much as I do has its positives and negatives. Every where I go has its own fascinations; I never get bored. At the same time, every time I travel I get sick. I think I’ll start taking Vitamin C to jump start my immune system. It’s a whole new world out here!

Naonga chomene, again, for your interest! 

The Story of Friday Moyo

Kwapia!

Greetings to all! Today is September 17. I have been in Zambia for 30 days, so my allotment of days expires now now. (Zambians say “now now” to signify right now or “what what.”  It has caught on). On Friday I went to the immigration office to get an extension of days, and was told that if I don’t bring a large sum of money today, I am staying here illegally. I am categorized as a tourist on my passport, when in actuality I am working for the church. Unless I lie and tell them I am only here to visit Victoria Falls and take a ride on the elephants, perhaps eat a goat or two, I am not accepted here. My risk-taking side says, okay, that’s fine, that money would be much better spent elsewhere, see you on the flip side. But, the Zambian side says let’s pay now before I get deported. Now that would be an experience.

There is much to report, so instead of relaying all of the information on this one blog, I will be attaching two documents on which you can click and read further if so desired. In summary, I have spent the last two weeks traveling and visiting various programs that are being funded by USAID to combat HIV/AIDS. I have seen poverty, famine, and disease at its worst stages, and feel it’s my calling to report on them. I recognize that my time here in Zambia is a time for assessment, to see in what ways I can personally live my life to help those who are truly in need. Too many times I have taken my life for granted. Sometimes I think I have a fair amount of faith, but after meeting people on their death bed praising God’s name, I admit that I am one of little faith. For when I lay my head down at night, the last thing on my mind is whether or not I will eat the following day. I don’t give thought to how I will get the money to transport myself or my relative to the hospital. I don’t worry about taking a day off from work to bury my loved one. Yet, these thoughts are reality here in Zambia. It’s all about survival. Many individuals are struggling for their very lives, yet they praise the name of God, knowing that it is not this life on Earth that matters, but living for the Lord is what brings true life and joy. Still, people are suffering. The problem is massive, and one that would take years to evaluate before a book could be written. Many nights I lie awake pondering over what I’ve seen, wondering what God wants me to do. And I am reminded that despite the injustice, God is still God. He is in the midst of it all, and His work is already being done. I don’t have the cure, I constantly feel at a loss for words, I struggle to understand it all as it is so profound, yet, God is still God. All I can do is bring His love, and in the end, perhaps this is all He wants me to do. Please read the stories in more detail at the bottom of this blog.

On a positive note, I have been blessed with such wonderful African experiences; those I have been eager to partake in for years. Living with the reverend and his family has been great. They are such servants, and are constantly making sure I am feeling fine and eating well. He and his wife took me to Siavonga this weekend where we stayed on the Zambezi River. On the way back they bought tons of different kinds of fish. So we will be eating fish fish fish until December. Yesterday I saw a wedding rehearsal. For months before a wedding, the bridemaids and groomsmen practice different dances for the reception. Now they’ve heard I know a little bit of Salsa, and want me to teach them!

Every night after dinner the family sings a hymn or praise song, then prays together. I have already started learning local hymns in Nyanja, and will be excited to know them by heart. As I’ve mentioned, Africans can SING! And DANCE! For every ceremony or church gathering, there is so much singing and dancing. The culture is quite colorful, as you all know.

The reverend and his wife have 5 children. The 18 year old girl is in boarding school a few hours away, the 16 year old boy is in high school, there are two 13 year old girls, and a 6 year old boy. Every day when I am home, we have such fun. The 6 year old hardly stops smiling and running around. He loves to sit by me and follow me everywhere. He even likes to peek in my room in the morning before I’m out of bed. The 13 year olds enjoy playing with my hair and are impressed by the shampoo I use. They ask for help with homework, perform songs and dance for me, and simply sit in the room with me to talk. We’ve taught each other games and we laugh all the time. The 16 year old boy and I also play games and talk about more adult matters, so to speak! And the mother’s younger brother has been staying here as well. He loves to teach music and direct church choirs. He and I have spent most evenings teaching each other songs and talking about our different cultures. He says he’ll have me singing in front of the church in no time. I am not sure if he’s serious or not! I am so very blessed by each individual in this home. God knew what He was doing when He placed us together. We have so greatly enjoyed getting to know each other and teaching about our different cultures. I’ll most likely be living here until my departure.

I’ve also been given different African attire. If it weren’t for my light skin and blonde hair, I might not be so noticable when wearing these outfits. Instead, it seems wherever I go people are enthralled by my presence. Usually this is extremely uncomfortable because as you all know, I don’t like being in the spotlight. But, it would be rude for me to request that I not be introduced at every public gathering. The people are just grateful to have a visitor from the other side of the world. They want to make sure I don’t miss home too much by making me feel so very welcome!

There have been many silly things that have happened. While most everyone speaks English, they don’t choose to speak it always. So, when driving long distances, I am wondering what in the world they’re talking about as they speak in their tribal tongue. Also, our accents are so deep that we are often missing each other’s statement when using English. I am learning to speak very slowly and with much articulation. The other day somebody bought us lunch and had just told me not to worry, that he would be refunded for the food. I then said, “Shall I pray?” And they said “Oh no no no no!!!! No, don’t be silly!” I was thinking, what what???? They don’t want me to pray? Until I realized they thought I said “Shall I pay?” Anyway, these little things happen every day, and I just have to laugh. And for your interest, kwapia means it’s hot! I have been sweating like a pig, and will start sweating like a hot pig as we enter the hot season, like now now.

All for now now. Bless you all and thank you for reading further below.

Home Based Care in Ndola

Ndola Journey

Kunyumba kuli bwanji?

I will start by saying dzikomo (thank you) to all of you who have been ever-so-faithful in visiting my site. You can finally read an update on my time here, and learn some Nyanja along the way!

I am an official muzungu (white person) in Lusaka. It has been 12 days since I stepped of the South African flight. I did finally receive my bag, and though it was quite dusty and a little mishapen, I am pretty sure everything remained. If people happened to look inside, they quickly realized they had no need for baby wipes, second-hand skirts, old stinky sandals, or already-been-used toothbrushes, and simply zipped it back up.

My role here in Zambia is becoming more clear, pangono a pangono (little by little). I am basically a social worker working with CRWRC, who is partnered with a number of organizations whose purpose is to fight against HIV/AIDS throughout Africa. One major component of care for people infected and affected by HIV/AIDS is home-based care, or palliative care. Because of limited resources and barriers to access, many individuals are receiving care in the home. It is necessary that individuals are treated holisically, or are seen as people with physical, social, spiritual, and emotional needs. The burden of care is great, but ultimately lies on the family and community. It is a daunting task to meet all of the need, so volunteers from the community are currently working as caregivers. Both families and volunteers are being trained to care for these individuals. One of my roles will be to help train them as well. I will spend all of next week in the Copperbelt, which is the northern part of Zambia, going into the field and analyzing the components of home-based care in this area, and coming to conclusions as to what is working, and what gaps possibly exist. I will then begin working on a palliative care package that hopefully will be used in the training of volunteers.

Another program currently under way is ABY or abstinence, be faithful, for the youth. Last Saturday we went to the Copperbelt for a launching of this program in one of the towns. It was a special day, as I was able to meet many Zambians who are passionate about the fight against AIDS. The event itself gathered many youth in the community. Their beautiful spirit was contagious. One of my favorite parts was the music. I wish I had a tape recorder; I felt like I was in a movie with perfect vocal sound enveloping the whole church. They have such musical talent. As a “social worker,” and as a partner with these current programs, I will be helping with the conducting of surveys throughout Zambia to find a baseline of where the community is now. More will be known as to my role in this regard as time passes.

This week I will be moving to another home. A wonderful reverand of the Reformed Church in Zambia and his family have been gracious enough to take me in. I will be able to practice Nyanja, visit another church, and participate in the typical family affairs. So far the food has been good. The staple is encima, which is ground corn, boiled to make a thick white mash. They eat this with their hands, using the encima to grab pieces of meat or relish. Because I am in Lusaka, the biggest city in Zambia, there are many expatriates, or foreigners. Also, anything is available to me. I am almost ashamed to say that I have eaten Subway, enjoyed a vanilla ice cream cone, and eaten barbecue chicken pizza. As many of you know, what excites me most are extreme cultural experiences, and more will come my way. I won’t publicly disclose what has already happened in the bathroom department. Kodi chimbuzi nikoti? (Where is the restroom?)

Kunyumba kuli bwanji? (How is your household?) Unfortunately, I do not have a household, and will not have one until I get married. Therefore, no one will ask me this question. I’ve heard that it is basically a requirement to get married here, and if you don’t, something is wrong. People have already asked, “Did you come here to find your husband?” Well, I don’t think that is one of my jobs, but, I am still learning. Just kidding.

These are the basics, and dzikomo for your interest. If you have a kunyumba, I hope it is bwino (good), and if you are still working on that, bwino. All the blessings to you!

I’ve arrived!

Did you know that people in London do not say “bless you”? I gave countless individuals the opportunity to do so, about a million different times, in a hundred different places. I don’t think I was allergic to London, but something grabbed a hold of my nose right when we landed. It was fun to tour the city. I had 12 hours to do so before my flight to South Africa.

I was picked up at the airport in Zambia by Eli, the missionary with CRWRC, and am now at his family’s home. They live right in Lusaka, about 20 minutes from the airport. The drive from the airport was an experience. I’m not used to sitting on the left side of the car with nothing to do. They drive on the left-hand side of the road too! I have learned that Zambians are some of the most friendly people. It was so neat to see them walking around outside, many women with huge bags on their heads.

I have been able to shower with warm water, sleep on a bed, and eat warm food. I feel refreshed, but ready to go back to sleep, and under a mosquito net I might add. I’ll be with this family for a few days, and then will live with a Zambian family.

I will update more later on…but for those who might be curious, I am safe and sound! Thank you for praying for me!