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| Macha Family Stay |
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Oh sure, that could be anyone. Whose life isn't frantic these days?
"Frantic and a complete lack of peace. Somehow it's connected to allergies. This person may not have even put these two together yet."
How could she possibly know that? I'd been trying to put up such a brave front - showing the world I had it all together. I was trying to show I knew what I was doing, full of confidence. Inside, I was falling apart. And physically, I was in more pain that I could remember being in for a very long time - maybe ever. So much pain. Some days my eyes were hot with tears that I was trying to hide. The pain on the outside matched the intensity of the pain on the inside. It had been getting progressively worse for weeks.
"Frantic....allergies."
How could she know? I know she has the gift of knowledge, but still. How could she know that?
I tried to become invisible in my chair. No one could know. People I knew were in the room. What would they think? Would they feel sorry for me in my weakness? Would they mock me for it? Believe it was real?
"Come forward. Let us pray for you. Let us pray for peace in your heart and healing in your body."
I've requested prayer for healing for my body more times than I can count. What was the use? How would this be any different? I willed myself to be glued into my chair.
"Come forward. If you have pain we want to pray for you."
My body left the chair. I felt compelled. It certainly wasn't of my own volition.
"How can we pray for you?" her husband asked.
]]> "I'm the frantic one," I whispered as the tears began to fall. "I've had an illness for the past 37 years. It's very closely tied in to diet and could easily be viewed as allergies. And I'm so tired of it. I'm just so tired."As she began to pray for the peace I longed for, I felt the warmth of her hands coursing through me. She prayed for peace and spiritual healing as well as physical healing. And she continued to hold me as she prayed.
I went back to my seat. Tears continued down my cheeks. I was still in pain. Maybe this would turn out to be like all the other experiences. Had anything changed?
Afterward I was speaking with the woman who had prayed over me and I noticed my headache starting to abate. I was smiling as I spoke.
The next morning I awoke pain free and with a light heart! The light-heartedness and peace lasted all day. Praise God!! Some pain is back, but not as bad as before. I know that God is working in my heart and in my body. I don't know if this is the final answer, but I know I have God's peace for what lies ahead. And I choose to believe that He is healing me: now, tomorrow, and always.
Glory be to Him alone!
I was on my way home and peeved that I had to make yet another stop. Why couldn't there be fast food drive-thrus like the "civilized" country I had come from? As I gathered my purse, cell phone, and list, Kennedy approached my car. I had already shooed away the men selling socket wrenches, DVDs and talk time. I didn't have time to deal with this kid too. I'd always managed to dodge him before. This time though, he was there before I even got out of the car.
"Madam, ground nuts?" he asked in a nearly inaudible voice.
"No, I don't want any."
"Only 5000, madam." I did the math in my head. That was about a buck for what looked like 3-4 pounds of peanuts.
"No, I don't want any," I repeated a bit more sternly.
"Madam. Please." He said it with such a sad, pathetic look on his face.
"No, I'm allergic to ground nuts." That wasn't really true. Just intolerant, not allergic. And I don't really like them anyway. Thinking I was safe, I stormed off into the Castle Supermarket.
It was nearly dark when I reemerged loaded down with groceries. In a country where the average worker earns 10,000 ZMK per day, I'm sure I had just spent 100,000 ZMK ($20) without a second thought.
I had already reversed my car out of the parking space when he showed up at my open window.
"Please, madam, I need money to buy notebooks for school."
]]> I groaned inwardly, but something tugged at my heart. Was it his raggedy clothes? Was it the fact that it was nearly dark and he was still trying to sell me something? Or was it the defeated look in his eyes? Maybe it was the former teacher in me.Whatever the reason, I pulled out a 5,000 ZMK note. I told him I still didn't want any ground nuts and made him promise me he would only use it to buy notebooks. I saw him bounding into the store as I drove away, skeptically believing that he would probably use it for sweets or a fizzy drink instead.
Last evening, I was refueling my vehicle at the BP station next to Castle. I was going through the normal routine with the vendors and beggars. "No, I don't want any DVDs. No, I don't want any socket wrenches, drill bits, umbrellas, socks, or talk time."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a boy with a bag of ground nuts. It was the same kid. Was I really going to have to tell him again that I'm "allergic" to peanuts?
Instead, he surprised me. "Madam," he said in a strong clear voice, "I just wanted to thank you. You gave me 5,000 to buy notebooks for school."
"And did you?"
"Oh, yes, Madam," he smiled a big beautiful and heartfelt smile.
It turns out that Kennedy is in grade 7 and is thirteen years old. He didn't ask for anything else. He simply said, "Thank you."
His graciousness and his gratefulness have touched me to the core. I am so blessed, yet how often do I stop simply to say "Thank you," and expect nothing more? How often do I take for granted the things I do have and complain when I don't have all I want (not what I need)?
Lord, may I never take for granted the many unearned and undeserved blessings you have given me. May I never become so hardened that I "forget" those who have so little.
]]>Do not plug a 110V surge protector into a 220V outlet.
It explodes.
Everything else attached to that outlet shuts down and the fuse requires replacing.
]]>Feel free to pray for me.
Women are pretty much the glue that hold family and society together in much of Africa. The same seemed to be true for the Mwaanga family. Andrew has a job as a security guard at the Ubuntu school campus. He often has to work nights. During the day, as most men here do, he goes out visiting. Africans are very relational people. Much of their time is spent maintaining relationships with family and friends.
]]> Grace works as a housekeeper for one of the teacher families in town at the same Ubuntu campus. In addition, she is responsible for managing her entire household. So after work, she comes home and starts cooking for her family. The girls do help with that. Young girls know that they are going to become wives and mothers. So their training begins very young. Many times I offered to help with cooking, dishes, or other things, and was always told, "We have daughters; they'll do it." This included hauling water from the pump/well to their family compound. Each of the containers, when full, weighed about 45-50 pounds. And they would carry them on their heads!!! The youngest daughter who is nine years old, can already carry 20 pounds on her head.As a westerner, it bothers me to see the women and girls working so hard while the boys and men seem to do so little. I know that there are men who work very hard at their jobs, but really it is the women who do the heaving lifting. Women typically tend the fields while men are rarely seen in them. Women do the laundry, the cooking, the child rearing, the cleaning. Men don't. And they are catered to by the women in their lives. However, this system seems to work for them and I cannot impose my values and judgments upon them.
Their church has been unable to afford a roof yet. So they've got this little shelter made of branches which covers the first few pews in the church. However, in a pouring down rain, that wouldn't be enough to keep everyone dry. So we ended up in a very small building next door. There were an awful lot of us crammed into that tiny space. As soon as the service was over, it stopped raining.
We walked back home and Grace and the girls started fixing lunch. All of the sudden, I had the most terrible homesickness. I wasn't even sure why. The entire family was being extremely nice to me. At first it was just a few tears here and there that I could surreptitiously wipe away. After a while, the youngest girl noticed some of the tears. I went inside and wiped them away and tried to pull myself together. But really, it just kept getting worse. I continued to try to talk myself out of the homesickness. It didn't work.
]]> Finally, Grace wanted to show me how to make nshima, which is the corn meal paste that is the staple food for most Zambians. She looked at my face and noticed the tears. Of course she was concerned and asked me what was wrong. That is when it all broke loose and I started sobbing. "I miss my family!! I'm so homesick!" Poor Grace thought that she and her family had done something to upset me. In reality they had only shown me kindness. I tried to make that clear to them, but I think they were a bit skeptical at first. Eventually, they believed me that it had nothing to do with them and that they had not upset me at all.So after a while, I got settled down and enjoyed lunch and the afternoon. I took a bit of a nap and sent some text messages. However, I wasn't feeling well physically, so that still colored my day darkly. The next morning, still not feeling great, I went out with Andrew to see the hospital and some other things around town. We stopped at Rick and Tracey's house on the way. He's a pilot with FMZ. Andrew was going to visit one of his cousins for a few minutes while I visited with Tracey. The minute I walked into their house, I started bawling again!!! It was good to get it all out! After about 10 minutes, Andrew came to pick me up again. I took some Immodium, drank some cold water, and life suddenly seemed much better. Later I realized that EVERYTHING was so completely new and unfamiliar to me that my mind was simply struggling to keep up with it all.
The rest of my visit with Grace and her family was absolutely marvelous.
]]>This family certainly has found a place in my heart and I will have many memories of them to treasure! I look forward to visiting them again.
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| Macha Family Stay |
If you are unable to simply link to it, copy and paste the following url in your address bar:
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I'll be living with a Zambian family for a week. My understanding is that they have a house made of mud bricks and a proper tin roof. I am brining along a mosquito net and candles. The family is the brother and sister-in-law of Esther, the Zambian helper at the guest house. If they are even half as nice as she is, I'll be just fine.
The hope is that I will gain a little understanding of what life is like for the Zambians and learn some of their culture.
Obviously, I won't be taking my computer and won't be on for the entire week. Right now, the plan is that I will ride out with Gertjan who lives and works there and fly back on a tentatively scheduled flight next Thursday. If the flight gets cancelled, I will stay there longer or find another way back into town. :-)
See you later!! I'm sure I'll have stories to tell.
I had forgotten to take the copies of my passport and work permit with me. So that meant we would have to go next door to make the copies. (It is actually not uncommon for businesses to request that you bring the copies along.) According to the instructions I'd received, I was to bring two copies of each document with me. I assumed this meant the face pages.
The copier next door was broken. Oh dear. Now what? Lesson one: Always make the copies at our office at the Farm. The gatekeeper at the NRC building wouldn't even let us in without the copies. So we walked back toward the car. I noticed another official building and decided to take a chance. So talked to the first person who looked like she worked there and asked if they had a copier we could use to get this done.
She was very pleasant and took us upstairs to her office where she had a small copier sitting right on her desk. Then she disappeared with my passport and work permit. She was gone nearly 20 mintues. I had no idea what she could possibly be doing, but Ernst told me not to worry. She wouldn't do anything malicious with my docs.
When she finally came back, she had had each of the 4 copies certified - far more than we needed or had asked for! Then she told us they were 11,000K each! That's over $2 a copy. We paid her and thanked her profusely and went on back to the NRC.
Today, Ernst and Susi were helping me get things done in town. Susi waited outside with a good book while Ernst and I went in to start the process. We were ushered into an office where a woman sat behind a desk looking over the tops of her glasses. It was her job to determine whether each applicant had brought the appropriate paperwork and copies.
I had not.
]]> It turns out I needed copies of the second pages as well, not just the ones with my pictures. She pointed them out to me in both my passport and work permit and sent me on my way.Ernst and I had no interest in going back to ask for more certified copies, so we started walking around that part of town asking questions to anyone who might have even the most remote idea about it. As it turns out, there is a copier in the long haul bus depot and they will make copies for the public.
The three of us made our way through throngs of people coming and going, inhaling the fresh scent of diesel fuel all along the way, and finally found the little shop tucked away in a corner. This man only wanted 200K (4 cents) per copy. Whew!
Armed with more copies, we headed back to the NRC office. Susi found a place in the shade and Ernst and I made another effort with the lady in Room 3. This time I did have the correct copies. She made a bunch of notes, stapled several of the pages together and told me to go pay the fee in Room 18. (It turns out at this point, I only needed a total of 3 copies. Could have saved myself a bunch of money! Aaah, live and learn!)
The building that houses the NRC is made up of long hallways and office doors. Most of the doors are closed all the time. I felt a bit like I was in a maze as we tried to, and finally did, find Room 18. Thankfully, we were the only ones in line at that point. So it only took a few minutes to pay 50,100K and get my receipt. Then we were told to go to Room 8 for the actual card.
Off we went back through the maze and found Room 8. After a few minutes of waiting, I was asked to present my receipt to a woman at one of the three desks. She took my personal information and wrote it all in a book. She had me sign the card and put my thumb print on it as well as the two copies in the book. Then she handed my reciept, the new card, and my information to another woman with a typewriter. And I went back to waiting.
Keep in mind, that most offices in Lusaka do not have air conditioning. There was also not a lot of moving air in this particular office. It got very warm very quickly. Eventually, the lady who had taken my information gathered a bunch of us to take our pictures. Aparently, there are 12 pictures in one of the poloraid packs. I was number 13. So I got to wait for the next group of pics.
Finally, I did get my picture taken (called a snap here). There are four pictures on each sheet and a man behind the 3rd desk in the room had a little cutting tool which allowed him to basically stamp it out. Then I found my picture, he glued it to the card with some white paste (think Elmer's glue) and laminated the card.
I was done.
From the time we made it into the building and were given approval to move forward, the entire process only took one hour. I'm told it typically takes two to three hours. Thank you God!!
]]>Roads are pretty poorly marked here in Lusaka and the names on the signs don't always correspond with the names on the map. In addition to never having been there, Mary-Ann was having to navigate through the pouring rain and crazy traffic. Diane was giving directions which had been given to her by a friend. Unfortunately, her friend missed a step or two. Yay! An adventure!!
We finally found it anyway and pulled into a very muddy parking lot. We were greeted by a gaggle of young boys (12-18 years old) who all wanted to carry our bags for us. Of course, they expected to be paid for that as well. ;-) Thankfully, we already knew to expect them and to simply accept one of them to carry bags since they would follow us around anyway. A 13-year-old named Gift (not an uncommon name in Africa) came with me.
The market turned out to be covered. The wall around it was about 6 feet high and the ceilings were about 25-30 feet high. That was nice since it had been raining until about the time we arrived. It was a huge place and was PACKED with people selling their produce. There were about 8 -10 rows of vendors. Many of them had similar wares: mangos, avocados, green beans, corn, carrots, onions, potatoes, fresh herbs (including cilantro - called coriander here) and a variety of other things. I saw lots of okra too. :-( There were also a number of folks selling dried goods such as a variety of beans and spices (fennel, cumin, lentils, etc).
I walked up and down the aisles finding things I will eventually buy. Since I'm still living in the guest house at the moment, I didn't want to fill up their fridge with my stuff, so I didn't buy a whole lot today. However, I definitely plan on going back. I'll have to find a way to work it into my Tuesday schedule.
]]>
I simply enjoyed taking in the sights and smells. The cool aroma of fresh mint. The earthy smell of potatoes and onions. The pungent crispness of garlic. The spiciness of ginger. I love cooking with fresh herbs and spices. This will make it a delightful experience.After making it around the market with Gift carrying all of my little plastic bags, I found woven baskets. So I bought a nice big one to use for future shopping. I found out later from Esther, our Zambian helper at the guest house, that I paid about double what I should have. Aah, live and learn. I'm sure I will make many more expensive mistakes - in this case I paid $7 and should have paid no more than $3 or $4.
As I return to the Tuesday Market and others around town, I hope to be able to communicate with the vendors in Nyanja. I think that will make the experience even richer, and perhaps get me a few more discounts in the bartering department. ;-)
Today as Guillermo and I were running around accomplishing things in town, we stopped at Curry in a Hurry at the Manda Hill Mall for lunch. So it wasn't exactly in a hurry, but it was certainly worth the wait! Yum! They had quite the extensive menu of fabulous Indian food to select from and both Guillermo and I were very pleased with our choices, including the garlic naan.
So the next time you are in Lusaka ;-) I'll take you to Curry in a Hurry, or the Irish Pub right nearby. You decide.
Mary-Ann and I made a list and schedule to complete all the things that I need to do/know fairly quickly. Her husband Guillermo got volunteered to drive me around Lusaka on Monday to help me get all of these things done. We had seven things on our list that we really wanted to accomplish as well as a list of eight things on a list of things to do as time permitted. Additionally, we were dropping off Guillermo's smaller truck at the mechanic's before we got under way.
As we were driving into town, I prayed with Guillermo that we would be able to accomplish everything on our list for the day as God would allow. So off we went expecting miracles!
We stopped at the ATM to load up on some more cash (total cash society here), then checked out the private clinic that most of the FMZ members use for general medical care. I was looking for a specific store that sells my vitamins and supplements. We found it, but didn't stop. I'll go back another time.
Then we made our way to the Ministry of Immigration where we were looking for my completed/ approved work permit. We had stopped by three weeks earlier, but it wasn't completed. Today we found the record of it in the book, but we didn't have the receipt with us. Can't do anything there without the date-stamped receipt. But Guillermo had an idea. We went to see the man who had started the processing of my application. It seems that he had been promoted. We explained to him that we'd forgotten the receipt, but had the receipt number with us. So he wrote down the receipt number, date submitted, and the date and approval number for the completed permit on a piece of scrap paper. Then he handed it to Guillermo and wished us a nice day. Miracle #1!!
We took our newly minted "receipt" to the desk where you pick up the permits. There were two guys there: one who takes your receipt and pulls the permit and one who watches you sign it and then seals it. G had been building a relationship with the second man which is key in this culture. So after a little confusion about the receipt and me playing up the "stupid-American-girl=please-have-pity-on-me" bit, the first man found my permit and gave it to the second man.
Eventually, he came back with the corrected version. Mr. Mvale called me up to the front of the line, much to the consternation of several others in line who hadn't seen what was happening. I signed the permit (which looks like a passport) and his log. He sealed it and off we went! Woo Hoo!! Now I was legal - or so I thought.
Then we drove over to the vehicle registration place just so I would have an idea where it was and how to get there, waiting times, etc. From there we made our way to the American Embassy so that I could register as a US Citizen in Zambia. Getting through security took about twice as long as actually registering.
As we were leaving the Embassy, I asked Guillermo if I should have had my passport stamped at Immigration. "Oh yeah!" In the excitement of actually getting my permit, he completely forgot that I now needed to get my passport stamped showing that I could come and go as often as I want through December 2010. So we went zooming back to Immigration. They close for lunch at 12:30. It was 12:39. Hmm. Just then the door opened and someone else went inside. So I hopped out of the car and went back inside. We made our way to the appropriate desk which still had a line in front of it. By 1:15 PM we had a stamp in my passport and were on our way out the door again. Miracle #3!! Ok, now I really am legal!!
We stopped for lunch and then made several more stops. After all was said and done, we had completed 6 of the 7 things on our "gotta do" list and 6 of the 8 things on our "as time permits" list. We were both just amazed - and exhausted. All three of the things we were unable to complete were quite trivial and will be no problem to complete another day.
On our way back to the Farm, we stopped at the plot where my cottage is. I should have signed the lease last weekend, but there was a death in the landlord's family, so we put it off for a week. However, Beverly (the landlady) had told us that we could come by just to take another look to help with shopping and planning. So we did.
When I was returning the keys to her, Beverly told me that I could start moving my stuff in even though I hadn't signed the lease or met her husband yet. Miracle #4!! I left with keys to my new house!! I'm terribly excited, but it will take several weeks of work to make it livable before I can move in.
Everyone at the Farm was just as amazed as Guillermo and I were! None of us can believe how much we were able to accomplish in just one day.
To God be the glory!!