Grief Sandwiched by Celebration

Sunday, May 10, 2009
We visited a different church this morning, just to see what it was like. Friends of ours go to Maranatha Pentecostal Assemblies of God Church and we thought it would be good to see another form of worship here in Zambia. This is a large church with several hundred congregants, most of whom were there by the end of the three hour service. Jason had his fingers in his ears for the first hour of worship, and I could have followed suit but I thought it might look tacky for the lone white woman in the crowd to be swinging side to side with her fingers in her ears. Besides, then I couldn’t have clapped.

There was a visiting preacher from the Bread of Life Church, where our friend Jenny attends. She and Bob have both commented on the caliber of preaching from this man so we were glad to hear him, even if in a different congregation. For the first time in a long time, I was challenged to think and reflect after a sermon, and I didn’t lose interest even though it was over an hour long. The preacher was looking at Luke 14 where Jesus tells the parable of the man who throws a banquet and the invited guests make excuses. I think the point of the parable probably lies in the poor and the lame taking the vacant places but the sermon focused on the excuses and that was okay. Culturally, the excuses given make sense in this context: buying a plot of land, buying oxen, getting married. (In fact, many of the examples Jesus gives make more sense here, like in the passage before where Jesus advises people to take the humble seat at a banquet instead of the place of honor, in case someone more important arrives after you and you are asked to get out of the good seat. I can totally see Mr. Nsofwa, the public relations officer, bending over and whispering into someone’s ear that they have to move someplace else because a dignitary has arrived. Totally foreign in my context but seen all the time here.) The preacher gave lots of examples that Zambians give that irk us so I was encouraged that people were being challenged in that respect. But as the preacher talked more about the excuses we give, I was given cause to think about myself as well and the excuses I give for not doing things that I need to do. Going to Maranatha was a nice change of pace but mostly, it helped us see some of the good aspects of St. Andrews. Even Brendan said that he appreciated St. Andrews more as a result.

As I was writing this, Peter came over and asked me why I was banging on my computer. That is because the space bar only works if I bang it. Annoying. I am hoping my eight year old laptop makes it until July when we can get a different used one. The screen casing is sitting cock-eyed thanks to a crack in the hinge but at least it closes, unlike before. Now the “sleep” function doesn’t work so I have to keep it plugged in or else it quickly runs down the battery. It is dying a slow death but we are hoping it will limp along for a bit longer . . . But the fact that we have two laptops in our home reminds us that we are very wealthy, even if they malfunction on a weekly basis. We are also hoping that Brendan will not arrive in California barefoot. His crocs have completely worn through the bottom leaving a big hole, and his runners are falling apart. Maybe we will just tie shopping bags around his feet. That will make it easy for him to get through airport security at least. The issue isn’t that we are too poor to make these purchases here but because either things aren’t available here or it is of such poor quality that it is a waste of money. So we have a long list of things that we will get in the US on home leave.

In the evening, Max (a German who is here for a few years), Jenny, Adrian, and our family all piled into our Corolla and went to dinner at Mona Lisa’s. And I really mean piled: three adults in the back seat with our boys on our laps. One of the perks of living in Africa. Adrian and the boys were excited that there were four flatscreen TV’s showing the Chelsea vs. Arsenal football match.

We returned home and enjoyed cupcakes and the boys gave me their gifts. Brendan had made me a picture with clipart showing a volleyball and net since he knew I loved that sport best. Jason then proudly handed me a painting of his own creation. He announced that it was a picture of a “Love Instrument.” We erupted into laughter which embarrassed poor Jason. While I coaxed him out of the other room and we tried to contain our giggles, Jenny asked to see this curious image. I was able to lure Jason out of his hiding place to talk to me about the picture. It looked like a combination of a stringed instrument and a trombone and included a handle. And there was a square at the bottom where the love music came out. It was very sweet and I will cherish it always.

Monday, May 11, 2009
I got a few extra kisses from Jason this morning for my birthday, and from Peter, but that is disgusting for Brendan. The gift the boys unintentionally gave me today is that they got along great with each other. What more could a mother ask for? I spent part of the morning sitting in on an API course called “Interventions for Social Change.” The time I was there was spent on us introducing each other which I enjoyed. It is another way to get to know some of the participants and now when they come to dessert, there will be even more of a connection. I still have no idea about the course itself but it was fun. I hope to attend a few hours each morning throughout the week. There will be much that I miss but hopefully a bit that I gain as well.

In the afternoon, I relaxed and spent time reading and doing cross-stitch. I didn’t even mind the “kiddie kare” on the front porch. That is what we call all the kids who come over to play with Jason’s matchbox cars and animals. Last night I was able to talk to my parents and today I had a lovely conversation with Peter’s parents. I had planned on making a meal tonight that I really enjoy but I had to find two ingredients to make that happen. I was only able to find one so I resorted to Plan B which was a simpler meal but one that Peter could make so I had the night off! Not a bad trade-off. We topped off the evening with an episode of “The Amazing Race,” my favorite TV show that friends sent in the mail to feed my addiction. All in all, not a bad birthday.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009
This morning I learned that Justine, a girl in my Sunday School class and a 5th grader at Lechwe, witnessed her mother killed by her abusive boyfriend Saturday night. The mother, was beaten severely and then suffocated. All because the mother called him an “idiot” in front of Justine. When the grandmother called the boyfriend, he said to her, “I killed your daughter and I’m happy.”

I wanted to go to the funeral house (the home of the bereaved, in this case the grandparents of Justine) to offer my condolences as well as to make myself available for trauma counseling, especially for Justine. This being my first time, I wasn’t sure how to go about doing this. One friend at Lechwe had talked to a close family friend who had said that the family wasn’t doing well and that I shouldn’t go. But I had arranged for the boys to go to Georgi’s after football so that I could visit the family. Plus, that is what is expected here. I couldn’t imagine the family turning people away because, in this culture, you are surrounded with people in the days leading up to the funeral and afterwards. All the furniture is moved out into the yard and that is where the men congregate. The women sit alongside the walls inside or lay on mattresses that are on the floor. The bereaved women sit together and sleep and sing and talk and people are continually coming and going. So I decided to risk it and visit anyway.

Before I left, I went to Linda at MEF Reception and asked her what I needed to know as it was my first funeral house visit. She instructed me that I should wrap a chitenge around my waist and enter the house quietly. Then I should find a place to sit and sit there quietly for about five minutes. Then I would crawl on my knees around the room and greet each person there, saying, “Mwacholeni.” Then I should sit for another five minutes and then I could leave. So this was my plan as I drove to the house. But when I arrived at the house, I greeted the first grade teacher at Lechwe who was on her way out. I asked her the same question about what I should do and she said I should just walk over to the grandmother and offer her my condolences. Now here is the problem – I met the grandmother once when she had malaria and she asked if I could take Justine home after the Christmas rehearsal. I didn’t think I would recognize her again. The teacher said that the grandmother was laying on a mattress so I went in with that small clue, but when I went in, I found at least fifteen older women all laying on mattresses around the room. Not knowing what to do, I made my way to a corner and thought I would sit there in silence and figure out who was the grandmother. Two ladies sat up next to me, and the one said, “You have to talk to Justine.” That enabled me to correctly sum up that she was the grandmother. My friend had relayed a message to the family that I was willing to do trauma counseling with Justine and apparently, it had gotten through. It must have been God leading me right to the grandmother because I really had no clue. We talked for about ten minutes and she shared with me the details of what happened, remaining calm and composed the entire time, even though her daughter had just been brutally murdered. But I remember my visit with the social worker in the hospital the day after Nathaniel died and I must have appeared the same way. The grief is there but sometimes you have to come up for air. I gave the grandmother a paper with my name and phone number so that they could contact me and we could set up a time for me to talk with Justine. I was beckoned away soon thereafter because my car was blocking someone else so I took my leave. I was anxious going into this new situation and not knowing what to do culturally but it turned out better than I expected. I was glad that I could offer my condolences and let them know I am willing to help if I can.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009
I discovered that the funeral for Justine’s mother was to be held this morning at our church so I made the effort to attend. Due to the publicity in the media on this murder, hundreds of people showed up at the church to show solidarity and to show their outrage at this brutal death. Our church is very small and can only hold perhaps 150 people if they really squeeze. The entire courtyard was packed with people as well as the road outside. There was no chance of finding a seat inside as it had been filled for an hour before I even got there. I found a place to stand in the semi-shade, right behind the ladies of our church who were leading the singing outside. I didn’t know whether to stay or to go but I remained because I enjoyed the singing. About an hour or more after I arrived, the family began to make their entrance. Justine was being led by an auntie and the auntie stopped to talk to someone in front of me. I was able to give Justine a little wave and a smile and she waved and smiled back. Then they moved on. I didn’t know what I had been waiting for but this was it. Peter called it a divine moment. Soon the rest of the family processed in with the coffin and it was sad, sad, sad. Justine’s grandmother could barely walk because of her grief and was aided by family on either side. One woman fainted and was laid out in the shade under a tree. We couldn’t hear anything of what was going on inside but I decided to stay a bit longer. I sat down and the lady next to me struck up a conversation. Turns out that she is doing a masters degree at the European Peace University in Austria. She is back in Kitwe on a month break. She will finish in December and return to Kitwe to start her own NGO related to women and peace. The death of Justine’s mother due to domestic violence, is just one area of many that must be addressed. Anne and I exchanged email addresses and phone numbers and we hope to stay in contact. This could be a good local partner for MCC to support and for me to work alongside so we will see. Another divine moment, Peter said. So in the midst of this tragedy, Peter had reminded me that God has been leading and guiding me in small ways and for that I am thankful.

Friday, May 15, 2009
I had heard a rumor yesterday that Justine was to be taken to South Africa to live with her father and that greatly concerned me because with this trauma and loss, it would be better for her to stay in her family, church, and school communities. It served the purpose of lighting a fire under my you-know-what. I didn’t want to intrude and so I thought it would be better to wait for Justine’s grandmother to call me. But since they haven’t called, I didn’t want to lose my opportunity to help. So this morning, I decided to visit the family once again. I didn’t have their phone number so I couldn’t call. I went to the house and beeped but there was no guard and I wasn’t sure what to do. So I went to Lechwe and talked to Ms. Lubamba, the head teacher and asked if I could get the phone number of the grandmother. I know, I know, that would never work in the West but it does here! So I got the number and called and spoke to Justine. She said it was fine to come over and talk. So I had my chance to talk with Justine, as well as with the grandmother. Justine is not going to South Africa and will return to school on Monday. Justine and I arranged to meet over the next few weeks just to check in. Without giving too much detail, she is coping very well, primarily because her primary attachment is to her grandmother who raised her and with whom Justine lived until a few months ago. As I was ready to leave, the grandmother called me over and said she wanted a turn to talk as well so I spent another hour with her. It’s not easy for them, as you can imagine, and they are all exhausted but I think they will be OK. Please keep praying for Justine and her family.

One of the things that I learned in the class that I sat in on this week was to look for opportunities for change. There are moments of opening where people are ready to learn or change because of the situation in which they find themselves. Lechwe School was affected by this tragedy happening to one of their students. People wanted to help but didn’t know how, especially regarding Justine. The resource specialist found me one morning, after hearing I was a therapist, and told me that everyone keeps asking her to talk with Justine but that she has no training at all and wouldn’t know what to do. So today when I was talking with Ms. Lubamba I seized the opportunity and asked if the school would like training in trauma awareness and disaster response. Because there are no counseling services available at all in Kitwe, if there is a tragedy the parents will turn to Lechwe for help. Perhaps because of the week’s events, Ms. Lubamba was very interested in this and will talk to the principal about doing something in this area. So we will see what sort of training opportunities this opens up for me.

Saturday, May 16, 2009
I realized last night that, after two years of living here, I now feel at ease talking with Zambians. Perhaps there is a greater appreciation or more avenues of connection. That is a gift. This may be due to all the extra prayer I have received lately. Or it may just be part of the journey, the growth that occurs after a rough season.

Tonight Peter and I are going out to dinner to celebrate our 16th Anniversary. Hard to believe it has been that long. We are thankful to have come this far and to still love and enjoy each other. We’ve grown together instead of apart and that can’t be taken for granted. Peter’s a good man and I’m blessed to journey through life with him.

So it has been a full week with celebrations on both weekends and grief in the middle. I guess that is how life is with joy and pain intermingled.