The low, deep rumble of thunder groaned as the dark clouds churned in the sky like a stirred pot of burnt popcorn. The crisp breeze was swiftly seeping through my open window and laying on my skin like a blanket. My hair folicals stood at attention, and goose bumps popped up where sweat had just been oozing. Immediately my focus was averted from the "weekly forcast" for my upcoming science class, to the life giving forcast of cool showers ahead.
At first the rain just spattered and spit, lifting up the red dirt, leaving only a sticky path and dusty air. But as I made my way to peer through the window at my sopping clothes being ripped off the line, I caught a glimpse of the coming of the rainy season and its might. My iron sheets screamed in excitement as the water pounded on the roof in metered rhythm; new drumming that will add a beat into the steps of the villagers. The first rain is celebrated, but the tireless work awaits.
The oxen are led out of their makeshift stalls as the moonlight fills the dark hours of early morning. It's time to plow and plant, so that the wet earth opens to the buds of germination; so that the maize can be cultivated and sold; so that the people can fill their stomachs and be energized to work through the hardships of one more day. My students (and I) get up at 2am to help in the fields. They're usually overworked and underappreciated, but they're still expected to trudge all the way to school at 7, and prepare for the upcoming examinations. Their life quite literally depends on these tests, but food is a pretty obvious priority as well.
The moisture has already greened the area and fruit trees are dropping sweet, gooey mazuku fruit by the wagonful. The women have gathered enough to sit and nurse the orange nectar for days. And if mealie meal runs low, bush fruit is always a good subsitute for nourishment. I'm spoiled though and my students bring bulky bags to my doorstep. Though my newly inherited bike has led me out to some prime grazing territory, I'll accept the gifts even if they're bribes to help them study. It seems like a worthy cause.
But though the term is basically over for me in terms of classroom teaching, a new season begins. The learning will continue as I proceed to unearth the ever novel and evolving fruits of my new home in Nakeempa.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Dear Madam Ashley
A few letters from my students
Dear Madam Ashley,
I hope and trast that you are okey, also and me I am just okey. Bu me I am not okey because of you. So I want to tell you this week. This week is not okey because I miss you for a long time. So I am not happay because we not learn sci and maths. But I hope on Monday you must be heir and teach us sci and maths.
yours,
sincerely Fiedred
--------
To you Madam ASHLEY
Dear Madam Ashley,
How are you about last week, how is your life. Me I am okey but I am meased you for four day. I have information to you about learn maths and science. No one teach us teh your subject in the class so that today want you to teach us that topic you meased.
yours,
Principal Hamuchila
----------
Hai Swety Ashley,
Dear my friend Ashley.
I hope and trust that you are oky to the pen holder not so bad. And me am oky but am not oky properly because you are not there. We are weting for you madam Ashley, you are welcome madam Ashley. Now I want to tell you about this week, Madam this week is not god because you are not there. But I hope you are coming very soon.
-it's Daphine
Dear Madam Ashley,
I hope and trast that you are okey, also and me I am just okey. Bu me I am not okey because of you. So I want to tell you this week. This week is not okey because I miss you for a long time. So I am not happay because we not learn sci and maths. But I hope on Monday you must be heir and teach us sci and maths.
yours,
sincerely Fiedred
--------
To you Madam ASHLEY
Dear Madam Ashley,
How are you about last week, how is your life. Me I am okey but I am meased you for four day. I have information to you about learn maths and science. No one teach us teh your subject in the class so that today want you to teach us that topic you meased.
yours,
Principal Hamuchila
----------
Hai Swety Ashley,
Dear my friend Ashley.
I hope and trust that you are oky to the pen holder not so bad. And me am oky but am not oky properly because you are not there. We are weting for you madam Ashley, you are welcome madam Ashley. Now I want to tell you about this week, Madam this week is not god because you are not there. But I hope you are coming very soon.
-it's Daphine
Saturday, November 1, 2008
To Lusaka and back
I came fresh out of the village. I was mostly content, feeling somewhat acclimated and accomplished. But I realized soon that I was also very tired, frustrated, confused, and full of all the other normal emotions one has when they begin the journey of relearning what it means to live. I read this poem and was comforted by the affirmation of my lament. I was refreshed by the re-framing of challenges and sometimes painful experiences.
Your pain is the breaking of the shell
that encloses your understanding
Even as the stone of the fruit must break,
that its heart my stand in the sun,
so you must know pain.
And could it keep your heart in wonder
at the daily miracles of your life,
your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity
through the winters of your grief.
- Kahlil Gibran (one of my favorites)
I thrust my hand into the swarm of eager passangers in hopes that they'd take my ticket and assign me anything but a middle seat. But much to my dismay, I plopped down sandwiched between Jocelyn and a large woman wearing a big-shouldered chitengi suit that came directly up to my right eye. I didn't anticipate shifting very much for the four hour drive to Lusaka.
The bright sun beat down on us and we sat sticking together like velcro, condemned to watch yet another nigerian movie about satanism. But "don't worry" I was reassured. We'd be slowly pealed apart for one bathroom break. I downed my water in no time and was wishing for more. But the grey skies in the distance signaled rains ahead, which even just visibly quenched my body's thirst. Too bad no one else wanted to be sprayed by the open windows. Instead we sat in a steam room of a bus, breathing only the humid inside air.
And though mostly uneventful, the activity and chaos was waiting for us to arrive at the bus station in Lusaka. Before we even stepped down into a bustling Zambia I didn't yet know, we were spotted. They paced by our windows attempting to keep our gaze and smoothly trying to escort us to their vehicles, or offer us something we'd pay a muguwa price for. But Jocelyn and held our bags close and threw some shoulders around to break through the crowd. And soon enough, Eric, my country representative, appeared towering over the masses of much shorter, much darker Zambians.
The day I began in Nakeempa was the last time I had seen him. He and his wife Kathy hugged me and drove off as I watched their truck full of comfort and familiarity, disappear in the dust, leaving me in my new home. My cell phone should have been a way to connect but trying to stand statue-like in the small kitchen where I got service got old. (especially considering it was still a 50-50 chance the converstaion would last more than a minute) So for 2 1/2 months we had chatted briefly on the phone twice, and had exchanged an email or two.
I was ready to see some familiar faces. I was ready for a change of scenery. I was ready to have some space to vent. To tell my stories, ask my questions, express my frustrations, and also share my joys.
The "Planning Meeting" in Lusaka was a gathering for all of us working with MCC in Zambia. And though we cover a lot of ground, geographically and organizationally, we're a smaller group of people, that feels much more like a family. I was delighted to meet the few faces who had until then only been names on a paper. I had received a few encouraging text messages from Cheryl Smith (a family friend, who does marriage and family therapy) but was also excited to meet her husband Peter (who works at Mindolo Ecumenical Foundation doing Peace education) and their two energetic kids Brendan and Jason. Chris was there too, after taking off work in the heart of city market in downtown Lusaka where he works with urban refugee issues. And Jocelyn took a retreat from chaplaincy at Choma Secondary School to be there as well.
Eric and Kathy graciously and generously hosted all of us in their home for five days. But it wasn't just a meeting for the north americans in town. Because the breadth and depth of what we are all doing wouldn't be possible without the Zambian friends and partners we work with. Ginah, a gorgeous young woman was great to have around to compare cross-cultural experiences, and to laugh over similar mistakes and challenges in her recent year of participation in IVEP in Canada. And Keith Mwaaba joined us from Macha Hospital, to listen and hear our stories, but also to share his encouragement and well-versed perspectives about the work we all do.
We all sat together for meals and meetingg, and were spoiled with good food and good weather. (I even got a few long hot showers which lightened up my skin from weeks of what I thought was a tan, but found out was mostly a thick layer of accumulating grime) Each day was alive with storytelling and classic rock. We vented about our struggles with language, communication, loneliness, lack of resources etc. etc. We gathered as a team and as a supportive family, through both our shared and individual experiences. We listened to each other and shared in the joy and the pain. we also re-focused on our goals for MCC, for Zambia, and for our individual contributions. We discussed the purpose of being here. It was a reviving experience, which rejuvinated me in a way I didn't know I needed.
It was Peter who shared a message on our final day. He held up his "2 in 1" pictures of faces that slowly transformed into an intricate vase, or Brendan's vision of "a coconut that turned into an Indian face". We learned yet again to look longer and harder at the world around us. We were reminded of the need to re-focus, and reframe. He taught as that the pictures symbolized our many laments, and explained that in fact, they were opportunities. We can use the particular energy of complaint to engage with God, and to perceive differently, so that new hope is built throughout the challenges. To look at things with new eyes is a not an easy or passive task. But rather, it is an active call to compassion, where we are humbly compelled into action.
I learned and grew, and left with a renewed sense of vision and purpose. So when I got back to Nakeempa after a 5 day vacation, I was ready to take on the irregularity of every day life. And it was a good thing, since last week was even more abnormal than normal :)
"I Bornwell Siagwalele now declare this polling station open!"
My host Dad, as headmaster of the school, broke the early morning silence to let the multiplying line of anxious voters into my classroom to cast their ballot. The line began to form as early as 5am, but at 6, when it all began, there were a surprising number of men and women from the surrounding bush areas who were eager to vote at Nakeempa Basic School. Little did I know that I'd be spending much of the day there as well. Even though I'm not Zambian and don't have a voters card, I'm a girl, so I was asked to serve the electoral commission of Zambia...breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was glad though, because it gave me an in to view the process of bi-elections, and to chat with people outside about their political views. Most people knew they wanted Hakainde Hichelema (who they call the Zambian Obama) and the results of our polling station showed that later in the day. But there were many who either didn't read or write, and needed help at the ballot box. Even so, most appeared very opinionated, and excited to participate in this historic forward movement (hopefully) of their country.
But even though Thursday was the day, many villages are secluded enough that to receive all of the results takes time, and the total count won't be displayed until later today or tomorrow. Last I checked it was Rupiah Banda in the lead, who would symbolize a continuance of the ruling MMD party. However, Sata is at his heals, and it has been a tight race. We'll all wait to see if this causes a violent eruption, or if the "peaceful nature of Zambians" I keep hearing about is a reality in the face of change.
And I know elections are the main topic of discussion for everyone at home as well, so I'm excited to keep reading more about the transformation of our own country.
I feel as though these last weeks have truly given me new eyes to see the world, and while I continue to face daily struggles, I now realize their importance. I'm learning how to revel in them, and to learn from each new experience.
We look with uncertainty
Beyond the old choices for
clear-cut answers
To a softer, more permeable aliveness
Which is every moment
at the brink of death;
For something new is being born in us
If we but let it.
We stand at a new doorway,
Awaiting that which comes...
Daring to be human creatures.
Vulnerable to the beauty of existence.
Learning to love
- Anne Hillman
Your pain is the breaking of the shell
that encloses your understanding
Even as the stone of the fruit must break,
that its heart my stand in the sun,
so you must know pain.
And could it keep your heart in wonder
at the daily miracles of your life,
your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity
through the winters of your grief.
- Kahlil Gibran (one of my favorites)
I thrust my hand into the swarm of eager passangers in hopes that they'd take my ticket and assign me anything but a middle seat. But much to my dismay, I plopped down sandwiched between Jocelyn and a large woman wearing a big-shouldered chitengi suit that came directly up to my right eye. I didn't anticipate shifting very much for the four hour drive to Lusaka.
The bright sun beat down on us and we sat sticking together like velcro, condemned to watch yet another nigerian movie about satanism. But "don't worry" I was reassured. We'd be slowly pealed apart for one bathroom break. I downed my water in no time and was wishing for more. But the grey skies in the distance signaled rains ahead, which even just visibly quenched my body's thirst. Too bad no one else wanted to be sprayed by the open windows. Instead we sat in a steam room of a bus, breathing only the humid inside air.
And though mostly uneventful, the activity and chaos was waiting for us to arrive at the bus station in Lusaka. Before we even stepped down into a bustling Zambia I didn't yet know, we were spotted. They paced by our windows attempting to keep our gaze and smoothly trying to escort us to their vehicles, or offer us something we'd pay a muguwa price for. But Jocelyn and held our bags close and threw some shoulders around to break through the crowd. And soon enough, Eric, my country representative, appeared towering over the masses of much shorter, much darker Zambians.
The day I began in Nakeempa was the last time I had seen him. He and his wife Kathy hugged me and drove off as I watched their truck full of comfort and familiarity, disappear in the dust, leaving me in my new home. My cell phone should have been a way to connect but trying to stand statue-like in the small kitchen where I got service got old. (especially considering it was still a 50-50 chance the converstaion would last more than a minute) So for 2 1/2 months we had chatted briefly on the phone twice, and had exchanged an email or two.
I was ready to see some familiar faces. I was ready for a change of scenery. I was ready to have some space to vent. To tell my stories, ask my questions, express my frustrations, and also share my joys.
The "Planning Meeting" in Lusaka was a gathering for all of us working with MCC in Zambia. And though we cover a lot of ground, geographically and organizationally, we're a smaller group of people, that feels much more like a family. I was delighted to meet the few faces who had until then only been names on a paper. I had received a few encouraging text messages from Cheryl Smith (a family friend, who does marriage and family therapy) but was also excited to meet her husband Peter (who works at Mindolo Ecumenical Foundation doing Peace education) and their two energetic kids Brendan and Jason. Chris was there too, after taking off work in the heart of city market in downtown Lusaka where he works with urban refugee issues. And Jocelyn took a retreat from chaplaincy at Choma Secondary School to be there as well.
Eric and Kathy graciously and generously hosted all of us in their home for five days. But it wasn't just a meeting for the north americans in town. Because the breadth and depth of what we are all doing wouldn't be possible without the Zambian friends and partners we work with. Ginah, a gorgeous young woman was great to have around to compare cross-cultural experiences, and to laugh over similar mistakes and challenges in her recent year of participation in IVEP in Canada. And Keith Mwaaba joined us from Macha Hospital, to listen and hear our stories, but also to share his encouragement and well-versed perspectives about the work we all do.
We all sat together for meals and meetingg, and were spoiled with good food and good weather. (I even got a few long hot showers which lightened up my skin from weeks of what I thought was a tan, but found out was mostly a thick layer of accumulating grime) Each day was alive with storytelling and classic rock. We vented about our struggles with language, communication, loneliness, lack of resources etc. etc. We gathered as a team and as a supportive family, through both our shared and individual experiences. We listened to each other and shared in the joy and the pain. we also re-focused on our goals for MCC, for Zambia, and for our individual contributions. We discussed the purpose of being here. It was a reviving experience, which rejuvinated me in a way I didn't know I needed.
It was Peter who shared a message on our final day. He held up his "2 in 1" pictures of faces that slowly transformed into an intricate vase, or Brendan's vision of "a coconut that turned into an Indian face". We learned yet again to look longer and harder at the world around us. We were reminded of the need to re-focus, and reframe. He taught as that the pictures symbolized our many laments, and explained that in fact, they were opportunities. We can use the particular energy of complaint to engage with God, and to perceive differently, so that new hope is built throughout the challenges. To look at things with new eyes is a not an easy or passive task. But rather, it is an active call to compassion, where we are humbly compelled into action.
I learned and grew, and left with a renewed sense of vision and purpose. So when I got back to Nakeempa after a 5 day vacation, I was ready to take on the irregularity of every day life. And it was a good thing, since last week was even more abnormal than normal :)
"I Bornwell Siagwalele now declare this polling station open!"
My host Dad, as headmaster of the school, broke the early morning silence to let the multiplying line of anxious voters into my classroom to cast their ballot. The line began to form as early as 5am, but at 6, when it all began, there were a surprising number of men and women from the surrounding bush areas who were eager to vote at Nakeempa Basic School. Little did I know that I'd be spending much of the day there as well. Even though I'm not Zambian and don't have a voters card, I'm a girl, so I was asked to serve the electoral commission of Zambia...breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was glad though, because it gave me an in to view the process of bi-elections, and to chat with people outside about their political views. Most people knew they wanted Hakainde Hichelema (who they call the Zambian Obama) and the results of our polling station showed that later in the day. But there were many who either didn't read or write, and needed help at the ballot box. Even so, most appeared very opinionated, and excited to participate in this historic forward movement (hopefully) of their country.
But even though Thursday was the day, many villages are secluded enough that to receive all of the results takes time, and the total count won't be displayed until later today or tomorrow. Last I checked it was Rupiah Banda in the lead, who would symbolize a continuance of the ruling MMD party. However, Sata is at his heals, and it has been a tight race. We'll all wait to see if this causes a violent eruption, or if the "peaceful nature of Zambians" I keep hearing about is a reality in the face of change.
And I know elections are the main topic of discussion for everyone at home as well, so I'm excited to keep reading more about the transformation of our own country.
I feel as though these last weeks have truly given me new eyes to see the world, and while I continue to face daily struggles, I now realize their importance. I'm learning how to revel in them, and to learn from each new experience.
We look with uncertainty
Beyond the old choices for
clear-cut answers
To a softer, more permeable aliveness
Which is every moment
at the brink of death;
For something new is being born in us
If we but let it.
We stand at a new doorway,
Awaiting that which comes...
Daring to be human creatures.
Vulnerable to the beauty of existence.
Learning to love
- Anne Hillman
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)