Lately, there have been several reminders that African culture is so unlike Western culture. Next door to us is a house that is actually a copy center and copier repair shop. The three or four workers are always sitting on chairs on the front lawn chatting the day away because there is no work to be done. Several weeks ago, they came to the door and said, “Give us tomatoes.” They have ample time to observe ‘how does our garden grow’ and so they wanted what they saw. I was confused by the whole interaction, wondering if they had talked to Peter or our gardener previously, but no, they just wanted tomatoes. In African culture, they ask and I need to give. But being American, I don’t always, feeling the clash of cultures. Last week, one of the men went to Peter’s office and said, “I need paper.” Peter was incredulous that they were coming to him for paper when their sole business is to make copies, which requires paper! Today, one of the ladies came over and said she needed salt. She had a boiled egg and needed salt. So I got my shaker and poured some in her hand. “More,” she said. I kept pouring but there was none left in my shaker and what she had needed to suffice. Then the gardener from across the road, who I noticed waited until Peter left to come to the door, came and said he needed me to give him three tomatoes. “Why?” I asked. Because he likes to eat tomato relish. But why did it have to be me that needed to supply the tomatoes? Because he wanted them. I tried to explain to him that the tomatoes in our garden are for us, our gardener and househelp. They are the ones who do the work of watering and working for us and so they should get to have the produce instead of others who come by and see we have tomatoes. We went round and round on this but the best reason he could give for why I should give him the tomatoes was because he liked them. I finally gave him the three tomatoes, thinking his logic stunk. He probably left thinking I was a crazy muzungu.
I believe in borrowing between neighbors so I don’t know why this bothers me so much. Maybe because it feels like a demand rather than a request. Maybe because I feel like those who work for it should reap the benefits, an issue of fairness. Maybe because I am afraid that he and others will keep coming back for more. In any case, I feel stingy. We know God loves a cheerful giver, but what about a begrudging giver?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Jason, being in Grade 3, is now required to use a locker, along with students in Grades 4-6. I bought him a new lock and key and he was very excited. However, there were no lockers available and Ms. Lubamba was waiting for the locks that were no longer being used to be cut off before new ones were assigned. In this time of waiting we thought for sure Jason would lose his key on the lanyard around his neck but instead he managed to lose his lock. He was distraught and we were perturbed but the next day we found out his teacher had found it and decided to hold onto it. Responsibility, in terms of keeping track of personal items, is a growing edge for Jason. This week he lost: one school uniform sock, his water bottle, and his homework folder. It seems we are constantly looking for something he lost: his game boy, his crocs, his brain . . . These things eventually turn up, sometimes hours later, sometimes days. But in the meantime, it is the end of the world for Jason and frankly, I get tired of searching for misplaced items!
Brendan came home from his piano lesson with Mr. Kaara totally pumped up. They had “jammed” together on “Axel F” (which Jason calls Alex F) with Mr. Kaara playing the left hand and Brendan playing the melody. Mr. Kaara is encouraging him to play songs by ear, as well as learning pieces by sheet music. When I chatted with Mr. Kaara this morning in the hall, he commented that Brendan was very clever. Brendan doesn’t want to confess that he likes piano but after school, with a sly grin, he finally admitted to it. Mr. Kaara is pushing Brendan to learn in many different ways, giving Brendan ownership in the process, and keeping it from being boring. Sounds like a recipe for success!
Sunday September 26, 2010
We are home again after an extended weekend in Lusaka for MCC team meetings. We drove down Thursday afternoon so that we could have time on Friday to run some errands. Unfortunately, Brendan was suffering from a terrible cold and cough. He stayed home from school Wednesday and Thursday. Peter woke up with similar symptoms on Thursday and his health plummeted over the weekend. Jason has had a runny nose for the last week or so but that hasn’t slowed him down a bit. The nosebleeds that he has been having once or twice a day have interrupted his play but not for too long. So at the moment, I alone am healthy and get to play nurse to the rest of the sickies.
We had fabulous burgers at Fig Tree Café, our favorite stop on the drive to Lusaka. The boys were found to be cavity free at the dentist. I got a superb haircut from a great hairdresser in Lusaka. Plus I found chapattis and brown sugar so I stocked up once again. We met the four new SALTers, one year workers who are all in their early twenties. They are a good bunch, inquisitive and confident and fun. We got acquainted with a new family that will be in Macha for the year, Anthony and Karlene Theissen. Bummer that there is ten hours of travel time between our places of residence. It is always good to see Bruno and Lois, who were up for the meetings from Joburg. I enjoyed meeting their friends from Saskatoon, Rich and Alice. Between hours of meetings and getting acquainted with new people, it was hard to find time to catch up with Jonathan and Cynthia. But they are good friends and it was easy to pick up where we left off with them. To our delight, a friend who used to work for MCC has taken a job with Catholic Relief Services and very recently moved to Lusaka. Peter and I managed to find an hour to spend with Amy, over a cold drink. Our time in Lusaka is always very limited so we are hoping she will come up and spend a weekend with us sometime so we can have more time together.
Before our full day of strategic planning began on Saturday, Eric led us in an exercise that frankly, I found to be confusing at first. While others were writing away, I was puzzled and frustrated. In this Malaysian poem, called a Pantoun, there are twenty lines. The lines being with sentence starters like “I am . .” and then “I (where are you).” Following lines ask you to make a statement or express your feelings on previous lines. Lines are repeated, and so on. Once I got the hang of it, I immersed myself in the exercise. And when I emerged, I was surprised at the depth the poem touched. It reflected, more profoundly than I could have imagined, the space I occupy at the moment.
I am me.
I am in the great big world.
I see the purple blossoms of the jacaranda tree.
People come and go.
I am in the great big world.
I have a place in the great big world.
People come and go.
Enjoy but don’t hold tight.
I have a place in the great big world.
Uncertainty and confidence co-mingle.
Enjoy but don’t hold tight.
Everything fades but it doesn’t diminish the beauty.
Uncertainty and confidence co-mingle.
All will be well.
Everything fades but it doesn’t diminish the beauty.
Sometimes it is hard to see beauty in the pain.
All will be well.
I see the purple blossoms of the jacaranda tree.
Sometimes it is hard to see beauty in the pain.
I am me.
A few of us shared our poems aloud. I realized in hearing the thoughts of others, that a shift in focus has occurred within me in the past few years. Had I written this poem earlier in our assignment, the poem would have reflected more of my struggle to make a difference, to be effective, for God to use me, etc. Essentially, it would have been more about “doing.” But I was pleasantly surprised to find that the focus now was more on “being.” I am more of a “doing” person naturally, and find it hard to be meditative or reflective at times. But perhaps God is at work to balance that out, or maybe I am just getting older, but I sense a shift occurring. Maybe there is more to aging than the gray hairs and wrinkles I see when looking in a mirror . . .
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Over a month ago, I received a call from an acquaintance asking if I do counseling. My usual answer when I receive calls like this is that I am a consultant and focus on trainings rather than counseling. But after listening to his story, I felt compelled to meet with him. His marriage had recently broken up, due to his wife having an affair, and there was still hope that they could reconcile, which has since proved not to be the case. However, he was the one motivated to talk and heal so we started with that. We have been meeting twice a week for several weeks. By the grace of God, and the dedication of the client, much healing has taken place and it has been a joy to journey with this man through his brokenness and into God’s healing grace. But I embarked on my own journey, it seems, in agreeing to see this client. I have not practiced as a therapist for nearly ten years now and the longer I have been out of the profession, the more I wonder if I could really go back. Have I forgotten all that I was trained? Have I missed out on too much by being gone, so much that it can’t be recovered? Would I remember all the legal and ethical issues to consider? Would I know what to do?
My experience with this client gave me the confidence that yes, I could return to being a therapist. I discovered that I was much more relaxed, much more myself, much more present than I was ten years ago. A decade ago, I felt like I was playing a role more than bringing myself to the process. I was concerned about doing things right and being in control. Now that I am nearing forty, I feel different. I felt free to figure things out together, I had faith in the process, I trusted my hunches, I felt playful and alive, even in the midst of difficult sessions. Not that I was perfect. I know of a few “mistakes” I made and I’m sure there were even more of which I remain unaware. But I felt that it was God who would bring about the healing and I was more of a midwife. I didn’t feel the burden to make things happen and there was freedom in that.
While it was great to be a therapist again, I am not going to continue with this here in Zambia. I think God was just reminding me of a few gifts that have been lying dormant, and to renew in me the passion to be part of God’s healing in the lives of broken people. And while I can write mental health curriculum for children or do administration or lead workshops, what I really love doing is counseling adults and helping mend relationships. I’m coming full circle and rediscovering the drive that made me pursue marriage and family therapy in the first place. All that has occurred in the intervening decade hasn’t been a waste but has helped me become the person I am and will influence how I do therapy. As Peter has been applying for jobs next year, he has also been asking me what I want to be doing. This experience has helped me realize the answer.
Thursday, September 29, 2010
It was inevitable. Jason lost his locker key.
Friday, October 1, 2010
We celebrated Peter’s birthday on Wednesday “Peter-style,” which means a quiet family dinner with Adrian joining us, enjoying curry chicken with coconut milk, and German chocolate cake for dessert.
Brendan spent half the morning on Wednesday in the “sick bay” with “Sister Julie” (so British). In the afternoon, I took him to the clinic to get a malaria test taken and I was truly surprised that it came back negative. He definitely had the malaria look, but since he was still getting over his cough and cold from the previous week, I wasn’t absolutely certain. When he threw up in the middle of the night and spiked a fever, I knew it was malaria. It is so lovely when your kids are older and they can make it to the toilet on their own to vomit there instead of all over themselves and their bed. I kept him home from school on Thursday but his class was performing a play about Henry VIII and the Tudors in assembly on Friday and he needed to be there for that. The play was actually quite clever and the children did a wonderful job describing King Henry, all his wives, and Mary and Elizabeth with good humor. Brendan acted well, it wasn’t obvious that he had malaria, and he remembered all his lines despite being absent several days in the last two weeks.
I’ve been feeling discouraged about Africa today. I was listening to the BBC reporting on Nigeria’s celebration of independence and it seems that 50 years hasn’t brought them much gain. And then Peter told me that two car bombs went off during the celebrations and it made me so sad. Instead of burning our trash, we have hired a service to take our rubbish to a dump. The men who pick it up waste no time in ripping open the bag on the truck and salvaging all the things we consider junk but they find valuable. I discovered that a Zambian that I like and respect was asking for money from several of us muzungus and giving us all the same line. It may be an “asking culture” but it still makes me feel used. Our water system is giving us troubles, there are swarms of moths everywhere, the cockroaches are back, and it is hot. My friend Georgi said I needed a blossoming jacaranda tree directly out our front door so that it would be the first thing that I always see. That would certainly help, but I am doubtful it would be enough.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
It was Brendan’s birthday weekend so we managed to squeeze in some festivities to celebrate his turning 10. We discovered through trial and error that the idea of a birthday sleepover with friends is better than the reality. Managing the friendship dynamics, trying to get several boys to sleep when it is hot, and keeping them entertained with legos and football, is not an easy thing. So this year Brendan opted to invite one friend to join our family in an outing to Nsobe Game Camp. He chose Nikhil, who is a good friend when it is just one-on-one. We set off Saturday morning, the boys in the back seat cracking jokes and listening to music on the ipod. We went on an hour game drive, seeing different kinds of antelope, including the “sesebe” which was a new one for me. The giraffe were nearly camouflaged, something that never ceases to amaze me. The boys took turns canoeing and fishing with worms we bought from the local children along the road. They didn’t catch anything, though Brendan brought one or two fish out of the water, only to see them wriggle off the hook and back into the water. The boys were more fascinated with the Chinese men fishing near us and all they had caught. Peter and I chuckled as the boys took turns posing for pictures with each of the Chinese men with all their cameras. Like his mother when she was a child, Jason preferred to play with the worms rather than fish. Brendan was happy and upbeat most of the day but the malaria knocked him out after lunch. The ride home was a bit more sedate as the boys read magazines and Brendan rested.
The majority of Sunday was spent at Lechwe at their “Grand Fete.” The Fete (pronounced “fate” for those as clueless as me) is basically a big fair. As a member of the PTA, I had to work two three hour shifts, one at a food booth, and one selling coupons. The boys played games and ate lunch before returning home to rest and cool off. I baked in the hot sun all day but was lucky to find shade in the booths while doing my jobs.
Brendan had requested pizza for his birthday dinner so while the pizza dough was rising, we ate cake and he opened his presents. He received calls from both sets of grandparents and chatted it up with all of them. We’ve seen Brendan grow in confidence and maturity, able to articulate his thoughts, and make decisions based on good insight. His mannerisms and facial expressions often remind us of his older cousin, Justin. It is a joy to watch him grow and develop. We are so proud of him! We spent the evening watching one of his gifts, a DVD with sports bloopers, and laughing together. By his own admission, it was a good birthday weekend!
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