Once again we journeyed to Lusaka for MCC Team meetings. It was good to gather with the team again and hear how people fared over the holidays. Highlights of the weekend included playing Settlers of Catan with the SALTers, going bowling, and hanging out with the Wielers. Charlene made an appointment for me with her hairdresser and I got a great haircut, even better than expected! We were able to have good talks with our Reps and gain their wisdom and perspective on our tasks and responsibilities.
Saturday morning we were invited to the home of Issa Sadi, Ebombolo one of the students in my Counseling and Trauma Healing course and a partner of MCC. Issa’s home is located in a compound on the outskirts of Lusaka. We met his wife and three year old daughter, Faraja. I had brought a gift of a doll for Faraja and she was delighted. We met for a few hours, along with Issa’s colleague Kiota, to discuss the possibility of future trainings using a resource my dad helped develop called African Indigenous Christian Counseling. We had a lively conversation with lots of laughter and out of this an idea for a grant proposal emerged. I successfully declined an offer to be the director of this new program they are developing, and offered to act as a consultant and trainer instead. It will be interesting to see how this joint effort progresses.
Following our meeting, Issa’s lovely wife, Annie, served us a wonderful meal. Throughout our meeting, we caught glimpses of Annie sitting on the floor in the other room and cutting cabbage . She and a neighbor brought pots of food in from outside where they were cooking. Before the meal, Issa passed around a basin with a bit of soap paste on the side. He poured water while we washed our hands. We enjoyed a feast of nshima (traditional maize dish that is kind of like hardened cream of wheat), chicken, sauce, rice, cabbage salad, and French fries. We took a bit of the nshima and rolled it in our hands, then dipped it in the sauce. We were given spoons as Westerners but I managed to do it all with my fingers, though the rice was a bit tricky. Following the meal, we all washed our hands in the basin again. We accepted all this food graciously, but it was hard for me knowing that they couldn’t afford all that they were feeding us. Chicken is a special treat, something reserved for major holidays. Issa is a volunteer for the Archdiocese of Lusaka, running peace clubs and training others in conflict resolution. He earns a living by selling talk time out of a little booth near his house. Annie is a school teacher at a basic school, which means her salary is small and inconsistent. They were so warm and hospitable and it was a privilege for us to hosted in their simple home.
Kiota, Annie and Issa, Faraja, and me
Bad news: Ben escaped from our yard multiple times.
Good news: Jenny, Carmen and Scott took turns keeping him underwraps.
Bad news: The power was off (countrywide blackout) for about 20 hours and it came on about half an hour before we arrived home.
Good news: My fridge is defrosted.
Bad news: There were ants in my kitchen while we were gone.
Good news: Most of them are dead.
Bad news: Our kitchen reeks with the smell of a dead rodent. The smell is coming from under the kitchen cabinets and we have no way of getting it out.
Good news: AT LEAST ONE MOUSE IS DEAD!
So we returned home to lovely friends but a naughty dog, dead ants, a foul-smelling kitchen, and no water, unless you count the water all over the floor from a defrosting fridge.
Monday, January 21, 2008
You’d think that having a head cold would shield me from the smell of death in our kitchen but it doesn’t. Peter and I both are sick now, Brendan is recovering from his cold and Jason is next.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Since Sunday we have experienced power outages on a daily basis. You never know when it will go off and for how long. Usually it is off for at least four hours. This not only affects cooking, but it also means we have no water since MEF uses an electric pump. Internet is also down as a result.
The power outages are an inconvenience to us but a matter of life or death to those in the hospital who are on oxygen. Several patients died Sunday night because the generator didn’t come on soon enough. The neighboring township, Chimwemwe, has had no power or water for days now. When I take the boys to school, the road is lined with people carrying water jugs to a borehole on the other side of Mindolo. Some try to come into the MEF compound but the guard keeps them out. I can’t imagine having no water for days. We fill our buckets when the water is turned on and make sure we have the bathtub filled and laundry done during those times. Who knows when this problem will be fixed but if it isn’t soon, the residents of Chimwemwe will revolt. Because even though they don’t have water or electricity, they are still charged for it and by the time the power comes on, it will be disconnected because of unpaid bills. So crazy! We hear that the power issues are a national issue, and even affecting Zimbabwe and Botswana as well. We have even heard that equipment needs to be updated and that should be done by . . . 2010. Lovely. Zesco (our power company) did do one thing right though . . . it managed to get the power on for the Zambian soccer match in the Africa Cup. There would have been major rioting if people couldn’t view the game. If I can just get hold of the soccer schedule, I will be able to determine which evenings we will have power!
One advantage to having no electricity in the evenings, is that it forces our family to be creative. Tubby time by candlelight is romantic, we tell the boys. Tonight we spent the evening reading “Akimbo and the Lion” aloud by candlelight. The book is set in a game park in Southern Africa. I commented to the boys that now we could really picture what he writes about, like bumpy roads. Brendan reflected, “Yeah, when we read that book in the United States, I thought Akimbo was white. But he’s not.” I found it fascinating that even though the pictures in the book depict Akimbo as a black boy, when we read it, Brendan switched it to a white boy in his head. Now that he has lived in Zambia a few months, he could imagine things differently.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
A change has been made in Smith family policy. Until now, we have not allowed children from the compound into our home. This policy was made for several reasons including our need for private space, the temptation to steal, and the other children don’t seem to take the same care with toys (most likely because they don’t have any). So all the neighbor children were allowed to play on the porch and in the yard but not inside. This meant that when it rained, our boys would always go next door to Yahya and Naila’s house where they were allowed to play inside (not all the kids, just our boys). While this afforded me peace and quiet, I could not observe the interactions that were happening that brought my children home in tears. Brendan has a love-hate relationship with Naila. Naila is a dominant nine year old girl whose strong will and sometimes manipulative behavior can shred poor Brendan’s sensitive heart. Naila’s word is law for our boys and it takes a lot of effort to persuade them that Naila may not know everything. Brendan says Naila is his best friend and he is drawn to her like a moth to the flame, but he is constantly hurt by her and feels powerless to stand up for himself. The therapist/neurotic mom in me fears that, if he does not resolve this issue now, he will forever be attracted to dominant women that walk all over him. I started having horrible visions of a tyrannical daughter-in-law and decided it was time to make a change. After discussing it with the family, we decided that Yahya and Naila could play inside our house at certain times. This will allow me to monitor their play and see if I can work with all of them on respecting each other and negotiating differences. I think this is a good investment and not just because I am worried about who my son might marry. The culture here is so different and we are discovering that our kids need more help negotiating it, especially when it comes to playing with neighbor kids. Today’s first playdate went pretty well and I had several opportunities to suggest alternative ways of making decisions (not Naila dictating who will play with what and for how long) and different words to express one’s feelings (instead of Naila saying “I hate you and will never play with you again” she could say “I’m sad that your mom says we have to leave now”).
This does create a bit of a problem with the other children who still are not allowed to come inside. But the fact of the matter is that the other kids have had several months to endear themselves to our boys and they haven’t succeeded. I have even taken them aside and coached them on what they are doing that bother Brendan and Jason (like incessant teasing, not listening when they say stop, things like that). They still all play together outside and I will keep doing the Kids Club and perhaps they will become better friends. There may come a time when another policy change is warranted but for now, only Yahya and Naila will be allowed inside to play. This wasn’t a problem this week as our porch was empty. All the black children were hanging out at the basketball courts because there is a group of Americans here on short term missions. They are handing out candy to all the kids and, amazingly enough, they are constantly surrounded by kids. I understand their desire to connect with the children and bless them with sweets, but it also reinforces the already prevalent belief that if you see a muzungu, they must give you something. It makes it hard on us who are here for a bit longer because these kinds of things can be sustained for two weeks but is harder for two years or two decades. Besides, what they really need is protein, not sugar! I have to work hard at being gracious and allowing God to work in mysterious ways through a variety of people and methods.
Friday, January 25, 2008
It was a bit of a dreary week: the smell of death in our kitchen, head colds, lots of rain, power shortages, several strangers asking for us to pay for them to go to university in the United States (I’m not an ATM!). In addition, we are hearing of deaths of relatives of Zambian friends. One person told Carmen on the way to a funeral, “That’s what we do here in Zambia. We die.” Depressing.
It was a good week for the Zambian postal service to deliver not one package, but THREE packages, and a National Geographic magazine. Not only the wonderful goodies, but the encouragement that came with the packages, really boosted our spirits. Good timing.
No comments:
Post a Comment