Heartache

Thursday, May 27, 2010

I hate ants. Any tiny morsel of food, not even visible to my eye, will attract a million ants. They are now even on my stovetop which is disgusting. I’m also irritated that the only hairdresser that cuts muzungu hair in town can’t cut my hair the same way twice. Parents are now prohibited from walking around the track at school because it is deemed a distraction to students. I can also no longer take voice lessons from the music teacher at school due to “politics.” My crock pot cracked and is irreparable. Our water system is having trouble so it is making it difficult to shower. It feels like things are falling apart.

A bright spot in the midst of my malaise is having the API participants over for tea and dessert. A Sudanese man was recounting the journey he took before he came to API to a remote area where there has been a lot of violence. The area was flooded so they had to take a canoe for 25 hours, sometimes getting out and walking in the water but since there was a danger of crocodiles, they mostly stayed in the canoes, their backs aching. In the dim light, he thought there were white rocks in the water but as they got closer, he realized it was floating skeletons. Another Sudanese, Samuel, who was in my trauma class, talked about the trip he had to make to a different city to get his yellow fever certificate. The road is made of sand and has been washed out so the wheels of the bus had no traction. They had to push the big bus for nine hours. Can you believe that? NINE HOURS PUSHING A BIG BUS! Some villagers came out to help and so one passenger, in gratitude, gave them a pair of shoes and some clothes. The villagers didn’t have a knife on them, otherwise they would have cut the clothes into small parts in order to share with everyone in the village. But the shoes they just divided by giving one to one man and the other to another. Samuel asked them what they would do with each having one shoe. The man replied that he would walk with it on the one foot until he got tired and then switch it to the other. Samuel tried to explain that it didn’t work that way. These stories help put things in perspective but I’m still generally a bit depressed.

Friday, May 28, 2010

It was a big week for Brendan. On Wednesday, he played in the music recital that was preparation for the Royal School of Music Examination that took place this morning. Brendan confidently announced the title and composer of each piece and played he pieces well. He was a bit nervous but that didn’t affect his playing. We were very proud of him. This morning was the exam and Brendan felt it went well. He really liked the examiner, who had flown in from the UK, and felt comfortable with him. It appeared to be a good experience for him which was an answer to prayer given his GREAT reluctance to do this who thing a few months ago. (We later learned that Brendan passed his Grade 1 exam with Merit. Well done!) From the exam, he went directly to the Agriculture and Trade Show for an awards ceremony. He won first prize in the art competition for his category. In the evening, we went out for pizza to celebrate Brendan’s accomplishments. Both the art piece and the piano exam took hard work and endurance and it paid off!

Monday, May 31, 2010

The boys and I made a quick trip to Lusaka over the weekend, leaving Peter behind to his API duties. Our MCC coworkers, the Sanfilippos, are returning to Canada so we had a farewell dinner for them. Two of the MCCers who are here at API came along with me. One was Joel Kroeker, an MCCer in Sudan, who hails from Steinbach (not the Joel Kroeker of my childhood memories). The other was Kelly, an MCCer in Uganda who had come to bake the cake at our place earlier in the month. It was a good time with the Sanfilippos and I was glad for the chance to spend a bit more time with them before they departed. We will really miss them and what they brought to our team.

On the way home, we had to stop at a bizillion police checkpoints. They were examining the car registration, looking at my license, checking to see my hazard triangles (you must always carry two), and even requesting a look at our passports. Kelly and Joel didn’t have their passports along, and I was a tad bit worried. But they let us go with a warning instead of making us wait there until someone brought the passports to us from Kitwe. Since we were sitting in the middle of nowhere two hours from Kitwe, that would not have been pleasant. Whew!

Thursday, June 3, 2010

When we woke up this morning, we had a text from Mukunto (Peter’s colleague in the Peace Center) saying that his nine year old daughter, Kangwa, had been admitted to Kitwe Central Hospital during the night. Later in the morning, Adrian and I went to visit her in the hospital. Last Sunday, Kangwa had become sick, with symptoms that pointed to malaria. Her test came back negative. The next day, she was tested again and it still was negative but they decided to start her on medicine anyway. She seemed to get a bit better but not much. A third test came back negative and then she started to throw up. She couldn’t keep any food down and she became dehydrated. That is when they decided she should go to the hospital.

When I saw Kangwa, she looked frightfully thin. She had always been skinny but this was scary. Her eyes were half open and she didn’t seem to focus on anyone or anything but she still moved around in her bed a bit. Mukunto and Audrey were encouraged because she already looked a bit better and had taken a bit of porridge. Kangwa looked bad but not as bad as the child in the next bed. Adrian prayed a lovely prayer over her before we left. I gave Kangwa a book as a gift, hoping that she would be able to read it as she recovered.

Friday, June 4. 2010

On the way home from getting groceries, Peter sent me a text to say that Mukunto’s daughter died early this morning. After seeing Kangwa yesterday, I was afraid of this possibility but didn’t let myself entertain the thought. My heart breaks for them, losing their only child. Audrey and Kangwa were so close, inseparable. I can’t even imagine their pain.

A little later in the morning, Peter and I went to their house, called the funeral house, to give our condolences. All the couches were moved outside, where the men will remain for the next three days, even sleeping outside. The nights now are very cold, in the 40s, so they will set up small fires to huddle around but that won’t get rid of the mosquitoes and the deadly malaria they carry. We shook Mukunto’s hand and I was overcome with emotion looking into his red and swollen eyes. Peter remained outside with the men while I went inside the house to sit with the women. Mats were placed all over the floor and women sat around the room, leaning against the walls. I took a seat amongst them. There was a mattress in one corner but Audrey wasn’t there, but I heard wailing in one of the bedrooms. A few minutes later, Audrey came out to the living room, supported by two women. She was so weak with grief, she could barely stand. She laid on the mattress and didn’t make a sound for about half an hour. Some women would cry for awhile, others were checking their cell phones, others were talking quietly. My neighbor, Aline, came and sat next to me and we visited briefly, in hushed tones. Then Audrey started to wail and talk in Bemba so I didn’t understand what she was saying. But she kept calling out, “Kangwa, Kangwa, my baby!” At some point, she switched into English and repeatedly said, “Oh, you never disappointed me, my beautiful girl.” I can’t even fathom the depths of her grief. My heart breaks for Audrey and Mukunto and their huge loss. More women would come in, fresh with their grief and cry and wail. The crying would ebb and flow as women came and went and it was all just so sad. After more than an hour, I took my leave, needing to go pick up the boys from school.

In the afternoon was the Africa Peacebuilding Institute graduation. There was a nice ceremony with certificates handed out. I am too self-conscious to be a good photographer, not wanting to stand in the front of everyone to get the best picture possible. But the Africans here have no problems with that. During the speech by the director, there were four or five participants milling around the front, shooting video on their cameras or camcorders, and taking pictures. They would move in close to get a different angle and it all was weird and distracting and bizarre.

We took a million “snaps” outside afterwards with every possible combination of people and countries and Peter and I in the mix. It has been a good experience for the participants and they say they have learned much to take back with them. I’m glad that it went well. They had high praise for Peter who as usual, was an excellent administrator and made sure all went smoothly during this month. But even in the midst of this celebration, there was a cloud of sadness as we remembered Mukunto and Audrey and their loss.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Peter went again yesterday to sit with Mukunto at the funeral house. As if there wasn’t enough to deal with, Peter says that Mukunto himself has malaria and has been battling that all week. He learned that the burial would be held today. We both wanted to attend the burial but the question was what to do with the boys. Georgi agreed to pick them up and take them to cricket which gave us a few hours. We had been told the church service would be at a certain church in town but when we got there, discovered the venue had shifted to a different church, in Chimwemwe, right close to our home. When arrived, the church was already full but a bench was put in front of where the family was sitting and I was invited to sit there along with a few other women who work at MEF. The coffin was so small and the stage was filled with Kangwa’s friends from church who were part of the “Pathfinders” church organization. They were all in their uniforms with their flags held high. I didn’t find the sermon particularly comforting, as the pastor went on and on about how children are a blessing and they bring joy to our marriages and how important it is to have children. I just kept praying that it would be a comfort to Audrey and Mukunto. Sermons here don’t seem to touch me in the same way that they seem to for Zambians so perhaps it was a comfort and I am just clueless. At the end of the service, we sang, “I am a soldier in the army . . .” and the Pathfinder children lined the center aisle. We all processed out, viewing Kangwa in her coffin on the way out. They kept singing, “If I die, let me die in the army . . .” and it was all just so sad. Sitting in front of the family kept their grief so close to me. Heartbreaking.

We joined the line of vehicles with our flashers on, and made our way to the cemetery. Standing in the hot noonday sun while the children sang and then shoveled the dirt over the coffin was hard. We didn’t stay until the end though, as we had to get back for when Georgi dropped off the boys. Sad, sad, sad.

One of the things that I particularly noticed was how men and women were separated throughout the grieving process. In the days leading up to the burial, the women were inside and the men outside. Audrey and Mukunto always had someone sitting between them and they rode in separate vehicles to the cemetery. It is just a cultural difference that women here are left to comfort the women and the men do the same for the men. But when I am grieving, the person I want to be near is Peter. I don’t know if the two of them were ever together, or even if that is something they wanted. Curious.

And I’m just mad that Kangwa died from malaria. That shouldn’t happen. There is medication and if managed well, she should have recovered. There were several things I heard about what happened in hospital that made me think that it was poorly managed. In North America, there would be a lawsuit, no doubt.

Mukunto asked Peter if he would teach this week instead of Mukunto. This is understandable given his grief, so Peter is trying to pull together a class on short notice. We don’t know what the next month will look like and how much Mukunto is prepared to take on before he leaves for Costa Rica, and in fact whether he will still elect to leave. Everything is still in turmoil and the knot of the unknown that I have had in my stomach for the last few weeks has only gotten bigger as I carry the grief of this loss there as well. Ugh.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

True to their word, MEF’s internet provider gave us a one month grace period so that we could have internet during API. But the rest of the bill hasn’t been paid so yesterday it was switched off. Bummer. At least we still have power.

I’m sure all of you are counting down the days to the start of the World Cup just as we are in our household. Dinner conversations are centered around the players and which team we will be supporting. We will have a month of entertainment with two or three football games to watch each day. My interest in football has grown due to the enthusiasm of my boys, but I will still have my cross-stitch handy during the games. I can hold my own in conversations about the World Cup and key players on many teams though the boys can rattle off information like crazy. It is nice to have something to look forward to and to pass the weeks before Peter’s parents come to visit in July. Now we just have to hope that the local station carries through on its promise to show the games and that Zesco keeps our power on!