OMNI Missionaries

“I will bring you home again from distant lands” Jeremiah 30:10

2008-10-09T13:17:00.000-07:00

It seems our final challenge for this trip was the most difficult, as it resulted in us leaving Zambia early. Late in the day of September 23rd Ron began seeing flashes of light and floaters from his left eye. This was followed by a flurry of emails and phone calls with Karen, and the following day we made the trip to Lusaka in search of an eye doctor. The concern was a retina detachment, tear or hole, which could result in blindness in that eye. I had sent out an email, which was passed on and on until I think half of the United States was praying for Ron. We knew he was safe in God’s care, and joined in the prayer marathon as we made the five hour drive to the capital city. We repeatedly phoned the U.S. Embassy before and during our drive, hoping they could advise us and provide a referral for a competent eye doctor. Each phone call resulted in the same message: “The number you are calling is not in service.” Click. And it’s not like phoning in the United States – we couldn’t just dial information or the operator. So, we just kept driving to Lusaka and praying.

The drive to Lusaka is a straight shot. There is only one road. It’s a two lane paved road busy with trucks. Broken down vehicles litter the sides of the road, as well as vendors selling everything from bamboo mats and gourds to chickens and rats (in case you’re looking for a quick meal). Our intent was to drive straight to the Embassy once we reached Lusaka, but this was no easy feat. We had a map, but all the streets are not on the map, and most streets do not have signs with the street name. We finally found the U.S. Embassy – a complex of buildings surrounded by fences and gates and security guards. There was no sign in front of the Embassy, only a small bronze plaque bearing our nation’s symbol of freedom – the bald eagle. No parking there either. We were directed down the road a piece where we navigated through too much traffic on too tiny of streets with unmarked turning lanes and over humps and bumps into a rocky lot filled with cars. We walked down the street and when we did reach the entrance for the Embassy we passed through two security checks where they retained our passports, phones, and my oh so dangerous dental floss. We were directed to the consular’s office where we spoke to a nice American man through a glass partition. He informed us that there are no competent eye doctors and that the U.S. Government would send them back to the U.S. if it were anyone at the consular’s office. He further conferred with the Embassy nurse and the final conclusion was that the U.S. Embassy advised us to return to the United States as soon as possible. And he did apologize that they had just changed their phone number. Keeping true to Zambian tradition we were once again reminded that nothing is easy here. Since we had made the trip to Lusaka, the Embassy did give us a referral for a good medical facility where we could obtain reliable medical advice. But of course, it was too late to see anyone today.

Next day the doctor in charge examined Ron and concurred that we must return to the United States as soon as we could to see an eye doctor. He said Ron’s symptoms were indicative of a retinal tear or detachment which left untreated would result in total loss of vision in that eye. Ron tried everything to get the doctor to say it would be ok for us to stay till the end of October – how about the middle of October – maybe even the first week of October. But he just kept shaking his head “no.” He said “You may be hopping mad when you go home if you find out it’s not a retina detachment and you left, but please don’t take that risk. If it were me, I would leave immediately.” Then he called in the eye doctor they have on staff. I’m not sure why, because he confided to us that she was not competent, merely the best they could find. He said we couldn’t trust her diagnosis as she has declared patients to have no problem when they actually did have a torn retina and even a detached retina. His only reassuring remark was that she wouldn’t hurt Ron. We knew it was hopeless when she examined Ron’s eyes and in her thick Russian accent tried to insist that Ron’s contact lens was a surgical implant and the instruments she used looked older than me. I guess that’s why the doctor called her in – to convince Ron he really must return to the U.S.

And so with heavy hearts and through another seemingly endless series of complicated inquiries and driving all over Lusaka we were finally able to reschedule our return flight for the 28th of September. Devastating. Truly devastating. But there was no choice. And we couldn’t imagine any other reason that would cause us to leave early. We know with the same certainty that God sent us to Zambia; He also brought us back to the U.S. While it most assuredly is not our desire, and we may never know why God brought us back, we do know that it is all according to His will and purpose, and we are so very grateful for His healing powers. Since we have been home there have been several appointments and there are more coming, but so far no serious problem has been discovered. There is no tear, hole or detachment of the retina. It is truly answered prayer and we praise God! Thank you all for the many, many prayers. The prayers and faith you have shared with us are a beautiful witness to God’s love and healing power. There has been a significant change in Ron’s vision in the last few days. We are hoping this can be attributed to the eye drops the doctor in Zambia gave him and praying that the condition will reverse or at least not worsen. His next appointment is tomorrow. I am sorry for the delay in posting this blog, it’s just been so hectic leaving Zambia so abruptly and since returning to the U.S.

We had so many more stories we wanted to share with you. Like how four men, Ron, Steven, Godwin and Frank erected the steel storage building in only eighteen days without any heavy machinery. Their tools were strong arms and backs, determination that never stopped and a great deal of ingenuity.

We wanted to tell you about Violet and Peter, the two children from Kasongo who underwent the serial castings for club feet last year, and this year OMNI facilitated corrective surgery for their feet. I wanted to tell you that when Peter’s cast was removed following his surgery it revealed a foot aligned just like the other. And for the first time we saw Peter’s usual serious expression melt away into a huge smile complete with laughter and excitement. No longer do we see a grandmother carrying a child on her back or a child struggling to walk with a cane – we are now greeted by a little boy walking freely or even running to greet us. Violet too now has one straight foot and will return for surgery on the other foot in December. We look forward to seeing a huge smile on her face, and those beautiful brown eyes laughing as she runs to greet us next year.

We wanted to tell you about Melvin – one of the brightest students at the OMNI School who suffered polio as an infant which left one leg crippled and lame. Shortly after our departure Melvin underwent successful surgery to free the tendon at the back of his ankle
and he will soon be fitted with a shoe and a brace which will enable him to walk without the aid of the forearm crutches which he has been using. Melvin loves soccer and we hope to see him as goalie in the first soccer game we see the children playing next year.

I wanted to tell you about the funeral of Steven’s father. Steven is one of the men from George who worked with Ron every day. I wanted to tell you about the compassion and mentoring and the love of Christ that Ron shared with this man as he turned to alcohol as he faced the devastating loss of his father – and how Ron ministered to him and encouraged him to turn to God for comfort instead. And at the funeral, how one of the grandsons broke down completely and Ron reached out to him with the love of Christ, holding his trembling shoulders in a strong embrace, and how Ron removed the cross he was wearing and gently placed it around this young man’s neck, and tenderly reminded him wherein our eternal hope and salvation lies.

It has been very difficult leaving so suddenly and leaving so many things undone. But we are holding tight to each other and the love of God. “Hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts.” Romans 5:5 And we are finding some comfort in the words from the Prayer of Archbishop Romero: “We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us... We plant the seeds that one day will grow…We lay foundations that will need further development…We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something…It may be incomplete but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.”

We will miss so much in the coming months that we are gone from Zambia. Mostly we will miss the children. There are so many things that are so far beyond words, and the children are at the top of that list. Wonderful, special, beautiful children who have stolen our hearts so very completely. They are with us wherever we go. One of our last days there was the most special – just a wonderful unexpected gift from God. When we open the house for school each morning there are usually a few children waiting outside to come in for school. This morning when we opened the door there were dozens of children gathered on the front verandah. As each child entered they shook our hands, curtseyed, bowed, some shared huge smiles and others shy smiles – they hugged us and wrapped their arms around us and we never felt more loved or wanted. Three of the younger girls attached themselves to me for a long while – holding onto my hands and around my waist, walking where I walked, giggling that sweet little girl giggle the whole while. There is nothing quite like the love of a child. A blessing from God we will never forget. And then Rachael found me outside later in the day. She ran up to me, wrapped her tiny arms around my waist, and said some of the sweetest words I have ever heard “Mary Sue, I love you!” “I love you too Rachael.” We’ll miss you.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Psalm 23:4

2008-09-16T13:47:00.000-07:00

Tuesday 16 September 2008

Today began like so many others. The children gathered here in our yard by a quarter to seven, filling pails and buckets of water to tend their garden. John, the head boy organized some of the other children for sweeping and making sure the classrooms were in order. Our usual morning of smiling children, happily greeting us. Yvonne had come with a small handful of white sugar as a treat, and Chikomba had two small “sweets” (hard candy). Ron brought out brown sugar which the girls were not familiar with, but eager to try – more laughter. Ron met with the workers at the cafeteria building, continuing installing window sills, patching wall cracks and painting and fitting doors. As they worked they could hear the sounds of music, peaceful drums playing in the village. I was off to pick up Foster and then we headed to town, me driving the car and Foster the truck to renew vehicle fitness registrations. As we were driving in town, little could we know what tragedy had struck at George.

It was half past noon, as I was driving back to George when I received a call from Ron. Four men had come to the site asking for help and looking for Godwin, the Chairman of George. Godwin had borrowed a bicycle and gone to Twapia to buy relish (kapenta, the tiny fish eaten with nshima). The men told Ron that a man at George had hung himself this morning. They had phoned the police around noon, but they had not come yet. They asked Ron to please phone the police again and help find Godwin. It was soon discovered the police had not come yet because there was no transport for them. The men were understandably upset and anxious, as their friend must remain in the state he was found until the police arrive. Ron phoned me and asked me to look for the Chairman at Twapia and stop at the police station. I phoned Foster who was about ten minutes behind me, and he was able to phone Godwin and I met him at the entrance to Twapia. We drove to the Buyantashi Police Station, a satellite station located at the front of Twapia which serves the George Compound. The Chairman, who is similar to a mayor status, had quickly gathered information and filed the official report. The officer made careful notes as Godwin provided what information he had. The deceased, Dan Lungu, age 29, had returned home to George just three days earlier, having spent some time in prison. His wife had gone out early this morning, which is the usual time to do errands and any shopping, before the heat of the day. When she returned home she found her husband had hung himself using a mosquito net inside their home. They have not lived at George for very long. That was all the report said.

Once the report was filed, we were referred to the main police station at Twapia. The officer in charge, Mrs. Chijobeka Luwi, called two detectives to accompany her to George. And so I drove Mrs. Luwi, Godwin, and two officers, one holding an AK47 gun across his lap, back to George. When I asked about the gun, Detective Henry told me they must always go into the bush armed – just as a precaution – for their safety and ours. They never know what an investigation might reveal or what responses may be invoked. We stopped briefly at the OMNI site for Ron and Foster to follow us in the truck. That was the first it struck me just what all this trip would entail, and my head started spinning a little. We drove far back into George, twisting and turning down dirt paths until we saw a large crowd gathered outside a small dwelling.

The two detectives donned surgical gloves and entered the home with the officer in charge. Foster and Ron followed them. I remained outside. The size of the crowd increased once we arrived, but most stood far back, forming a large horseshoe which surrounded the front of the house. Just next to the doorway sat a small child, a little girl about three years old, just sitting and staring without looking at anything, dirt stained tear tracks running down her cheeks. Next to her was a woman, early twenties, holding a baby of about nine months in her lap. She was wailing, crying out to God, rocking back and forth in aguish. It was heart wrenching – heart breaking, a young woman widowed much too soon, left with two young children. Just then, they called for me inside the house. I wish I had not heard. My eyes slowly focused, adjusting to the darkness inside. There was only a small hole near the roof which allowed just a bit of light to filter in. It was as though time stood still for just a moment, as I slowly began to comprehend what I was seeing. What my eyes saw, pierced my heart. It was overwhelming - the tragedy, the hurt, the deep sorrow – and my heart just felt so very, very heavy, and tears surfaced immediately. I can’t imagine how this young woman who loved this man must have felt when she walked into that tiny dark room to find her husband and wonder at the torture he must have known to take his own life. All I could do was pray – pray for comfort and peace and healing for this family, pray that God will answer swiftly as this young mother and children call out to Him, and cry out for help.

The police detectives made an investigation at the home, then removed the body of Dan. The poor, tortured body of a young man who knew despair that no other here can imagine. They placed the body in the back of the truck, his wife brought a blanket from inside the house to cover him, and Ron drove the truck with Godwin and Detective Henry along with some friends and family to the morgue at Ndola Central Hospital. I sat in the back of the car next to Dan’s widow and infant, as Foster drove us with the other officers back to the Twapia Police Station. We left them all there to fill out more reports. When Ron returned to the station with the other officer, he picked up Mrs. Lungu and baby and returned to their home. He made a brief stop here at the OMNI house to retrieve a blanket. You see, she had used their only blanket to cover the broken body of her husband.

The village is in shock, as this is the first suicide anyone can remember ever happening at George. You can’t come to Africa and not be changed… forevermore. We are just praying intently for this family, for comfort and healing and strength and an abundance of God’s grace, love and mercy. That this family can lean into the strong arms of our Savior and feel His warm embrace, and know that He is with them always. No one here seems to know why this young man, with a young family, decided to take his life. Tonight, along with all of George Compound, we seek God and cry out to all of heaven and pray that God will heal these broken hearts, and protect and provide for this family.

“you will make me full of joy in your presence...” Psalm 16:11

2008-09-11T07:34:00.000-07:00

Today was the first day of school for the last term this year. Opening was delayed one week due to the funeral of Zambia’s President. Today meant a lot of things here at the George OMNI School. It meant all the children would gather together again for the first time in over a month. It meant there would be a lot of chatter and some rowdy behavior as energy levels increase with the number of children present. It meant a good, hot, nutritious meal for all our students. And once again, it meant cleaning, as all the desks and chairs were wiped down and floors swept. There were huge smiles of gratitude from the teachers when they entered their office to find the shelving unit Ron had installed during the break. They quickly recruited some of the older boys and reorganized books and supplies, and swept it all clean. A nice way to begin the new term – clean and organized.

Today also meant one other thing. Something the children have been looking forward to for a very long time. Today meant new shoes for all the children. It was last January that First Lutheran Church in Strongsville, Ohio sponsored a U2Charist celebration where they collected shoes for our children. First Lutheran shipped thirty-one boxes filled with shoes to Zambia. Most of the boxes arrived in late February, but were held hostage by customs. The customs fee was outrageous, and more than the value of the shoes. After a lot of work by Foster and a customs agent, and then Ron and I arguing with the Post Office who then wanted more than the customs fee for storing them since February, the shoes were finally released last month. I wish that every person who attended that celebration and prayed for these children and donated a pair of shoes could have been here to share in the joy of this day. We placed a free-standing shelving unit, with three shelves on the front verandah. Each shelf contained three rows of shoes, all arranged according to size. As the children gathered for school, their excitement increased as they saw the shoes that awaited them. What they didn’t realize at first was that there were three times as many shoes which remained inside, just waiting to restock those shelves.

It was an easy task for the teachers to gather the children at the front of the house to receive this wonderful gift. They formed lines according to grade. And this time, the line of order was reversed, and it was oldest first! It seems that the older children usually are the last ones, and if sometimes the supply runs low on whatever is being handed out, they are the ones expected to be understanding. But today, there are plenty of large sizes – plenty of shoes for the older children. It is customary for the schools in Zambia to have a child named “head boy”. He is one of the older children, and he assumes responsibility when the teacher is not present. He takes charge of the activities outside when the children gather, making sure there is no fighting. He helps organize the lines the children form. He helps during lunch time, making sure all the children receive their food and milk and that they are behaving as they wait for the prayer before meals. And he is the first child to enter the school each day, and begin sweeping and readying the classrooms. So, we decided to honor our head boy, John Mwamba, in a special way, and allow him to be the first to choose a pair of shoes. In fact, we had already chosen a special pair of shoes for John. Someone had donated a pair of good-looking, sturdy, high top, red Nike shoes that just seemed to call out John’s name. Teddy, one of our teachers, explained to John that if those shoes fit, and he liked them, they were his, but he was free to choose any pair he wished to have. John gave a quick glance to the rows of shoes on the shelves, but put the red Nike’s on, smiled, shook my hand, and with a very sincere ‘thank you' joined the others in line, as they cheered for their head boy and his new shoes.

Then the parade was on. Teachers called three children forward at a time. In this continuous stream some came forward wearing worn out flip-flops, some wore shoes with toes poking through holes in the end, or tied together with a piece of string. But for most, there were no shoes to remove before trying on a pair. We allowed the children the pleasure of picking and choosing which shoes they would like to try, and Ron and I and the teachers would try to make sure they were a good fit – not just good-looking! The smaller children would climb onto a chair to survey the shoes on the higher shelves, making sure to choose just the right shoes. Their patience as they waited in line was amazing. There were necks craning to see who got what pair, ooh and aahs as we would bring out more shoes to refill the shelves, and proud smiles as each child stepped off the verandah wearing a new pair of shoes. It didn’t matter one bit that the temperature had soared to over 105 degrees before 9am. The children were so happy to have shoes, and I think it was doubly exciting that they were allowed to choose for themselves. Their joy was contagious – highly contagious – and continued to overflow as each child stepped up onto the verandah and approached what seemed like an endless supply of shoes. Many of the children couldn’t contain their joy, and danced their way off the verandah and back into line! What a blessing! We heard so many thank you’s, received so many polite curtseys and bows, and saw so many huge smiles. Many stopped to ask for a photo with their new shoes. And yes, as always, the children were singing as they waited in line for their turn. They were singing the song they wrote about OMNI – the song that says love isn’t love unless you give it away. While they were singing it as their thank you to you, it was also the children giving their love away – and back to you. Thank you for sharing your love. Thank you for this wonderful gift to these children. Thank you for sowing the seeds of gladness. Thank you for allowing us the privilege of sharing in this blessing! I can’t help but think of Psalm 19, although it may be referring to the ordinances of the Lord, the words keep echoing in my mind – “They are more precious than gold…they are sweeter than honey…”

“..and He healed those who needed healing.” Luke 9:11

2008-09-07T11:24:00.001-07:00

Saturday 6 September 2008

Late last evening my phone started beeping – a text message from Godfridah, one of our school teachers. It said that one of our students, Piet, had been stoned and taken to the hospital earlier with a head injury, possibly admitted. Godfridah lives nearby Piet’s family and has always looked out for the three boys there. Piet, Tammy and Gift live with their widowed mother, and were three of the boys who we originally came to know at Agape Children’s Village in the deep bush of Mpongwe. OMNI helped support Agape, and eventually came to learn of abuse which was occurring there. During OMNI’s visit in 2006, Rick Jaster spent many heart-wrenching hours working to free the children from that abusive situation. Now, we can happily report that these three boys have been reunited with their mother and now live at nearby Twapia. Gift, the oldest of the boys attends an upper grade at Twapia School, while Piet and Tammy (pronounced Tommy) attend OMNI’s school here at George. I must admit I have a special affinity for these children. I believe everyone who traveled as part of the OMNI team to Agape would say the same. But, the Agape connection is just one reason I feel a special connection to these children. It also means I have known them since I’ve been coming to Zambia, and I’ve known them to be loving and kind children full of laughter and songs. This year I have formed a special attachment to Piet. While Ron and I are living here at the project site, in one room of the house that is used for the school, Piet has taken me under his wing. I can be outside or inside, surrounded by children. Children who desperately want to communicate with me and me with them. While we can always understand a smile or a thumbs-up from one another, language is a difficulty. Most of the children only speak Bemba, with maybe just a few words of English. And me, I barely know a few words of Bemba. The children will be talking away to me in earnest, speaking the only language they know, and Piet will quietly come next to me, and interpret. It was such a wonderful surprise the first time it happened. One of the other boys was telling me a vibrant and exciting story with much animation – all in Bemba. When I told him I was sorry I couldn’t understand, Piet, retold the tale of how James Phiri helped to kill the snake that day – all in English. And then translated my Aaahhhs and Ooohhhs and Yuks and cheers for his bravery into Bemba. Piet, wise beyond his years at age 10, stepped in to bridge a gap. Ever since, Piet has been my interpreter. What a difference he has made. And poor Piet, he even tries to teach me some Bemba!
But, I’m afraid I’m not a very good student.

This morning when I called Godfridah she confirmed that Piet had been admitted to Arthur Davison Children’s Hospital, but she didn’t know any more. She said she would make sure that Gift and Tammy were fed and cared for in their mother’s absence. So, Foster and I were off to the hospital to find Piet and his mother. The differences between the hospitals here and in the U.S. are striking, if not shocking at first. From the outside you see a structure probably from the 1950’ or 1960’s with large windows streaked with paint and the eternal dust of Zambia. Upon entering we always climb several flights of stairs, the edges of the stone steps worn away from too many years of too many footsteps. As we climb we pass several wards, some bearing the sign “high cost” for those who can afford to pay, the remaining wards named after Zambian Rivers, which is for the majority of the children. After several inquiries we discovered that Piet was in the Kafue Ward in a tiny little quarter which contained four small beds and four chairs. The chairs are for the mothers or whatever family member comes with the child to care for them. They were lucky. As we searched the ward for Piet, we stepped around the mattresses which lined the halls on either side. There were no sheets or covering on any of those mattresses, yet each was bed to a child and whoever had come to care for them. As Foster made inquiries about Piet’s whereabouts I watched as a doctor and a nurse, both in starch white uniforms attended to the children in the hall. The doctor would crouch next to each mattress and gently and tenderly care to each child, talking with the adult at each child’s side for as long as needed. And this is when the tears could easily flow. As you watch parents bringing what little they have – be it food, blankets, and clothes – feeding and caring for their children. As you watch educated, dedicated, caring physicians and nurses treating children in difficult circumstances, to the best of their ability, using the limited resources available. This is just one more effect of the extreme poverty prevalent here in Zambia. It is heart-breaking to witness, and at the same time heart-warming.

After some time Foster discovered that Piet had gone for x-rays. So, down three flights of stairs, through a dimly lit hallway, and we found Piet and his mother, Florence, just leaving the x-ray room. She was carrying the x-rays, and they walked up the three flights with us back to Piet’s bed. There was no wheelchair, no orderly or nurse, just a mother walking with her son. Florence said that Piet had been at a stream washing some clothes, and a boy told him he was dirtying the water and threw a large stone at him. Piet told her the boy didn’t intend to hit him, that he was only playing. I don’t know. Life in the villages can be very rough and tough. The stone struck Piet in the back of the head, leaving a large gash and a fracture. Half of his head had been shaved and there was a large, bulky bandage covering the wound. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the doctor to return, read the x-ray, and make his recommendations. All indications were that Piet would be coming home soon. He had experienced some dizziness, but was feeling much better today. What I could see was a little boy, from a traditional village, scared at the prospect of being in the hospital. Poor Piet – he didn’t speak a word, eyes wide with fear. We looked at his x-rays and he did manage to laugh a little at seeing what his head looks like from the inside-out! We left Florence a bit of money so she could pay for the x-rays and any medication that might be necessary, and also to buy food for the two of them while there. She knows she can call, and we’ll be there if Piet needs us. She also knows we will all be praying for him. The photo is from the July 11th, when the gift of bread was distributed to the school children. That boy with the sweet smile on his face and the bread in his hand is Piet.

“Uphold the rights of the oppressed…” Psalm 82:3

2008-09-03T06:47:00.000-07:00

Monday 1 September 2008

This past week has without a doubt been the most difficult we have faced since arriving in Zambia this year. Our emotions have been at the breaking point, as we are consumed with grief at the loss of Ron’s sister, Jan, coupled with the continuing worry as we search for a solution to the quickly deteriorating situation of baby Peter and his sister Gift.

When we returned to the hospital as scheduled with Peter and his mother, Sharon, to receive the HIV medication for the two of them we became very aware of the seriousness of the situation. After hours and hours of waiting as Sharon was shifted from room to room and department to department, Foster and I were finally called in to speak with the counselor and nurse in charge. They informed us that they could not give Peter’s mother his medication. They said she is just not responsible. They did not believe she would administer the medication properly and even had serious doubts that Peter would be fed regularly. What we have discovered is that Sharon and Reagan, Peter’s parents, are both alcoholics. In fact the day we took Sharon and Peter to receive their medication she had been drinking already, before 9am. There was nothing we could do at that point, so we took Sharon and Peter home. Reagan was there, and we explained the situation to him. In conversation with him we also discovered that he had indeed been aware of his HIV status long before we transported them to the testing facility. Denial is not uncommon here. There is a huge stigma associated with HIV/Aids, especially in the villages. The common belief in the traditional communities is also that if you begin the treatment, that is what kills you. As we remained at the home talking with them, other family members came to the home – Sharon’s small mother (her mother’s younger sister) and her grandmother – and it became quite evident that there was no one there who was capable of caring for Peter and Gift.

Foster and I discussed the situation at great length, and went to an attorney in town to discuss available options. Our next stop was the Ndola District Social Welfare Office, where we were informed that Baluba falls under the authority of the Luanshya District. Before heading to Luanshya we stopped at the Provincial Juvenile Welfare Office here in Ndola to discuss Peter and Gift with them. The officer in charge there said she would contact the Luanshya District office and they would contact us. Arrangements were eventually made for the Luanshya District officer to make a home visit. I don’t know that I can really explain all of this – it sounds fairly straight forward – but it was anything but. Here in Zamia, you don’t just make a call, and then see things happen. You drive to each and every office, seek out the proper person, and many times wait hours or make return trips in following days in order to find that person and speak to them. One further complication in business dealings here is that lunch is strictly observed between the hours of 12:30pm to 2pm. During that time you will find virtually no one in any office, and even most businesses are closed. So, this process of making arrangements with the Luanshya Social Welfare Office literally took days. Torturous days of seeking people who could help Peter and Gift. All the while we are praying, and wondering if the children are safe, are they being fed and cared for, and knowing it was one more day that Peter was without his medication. While every office understood the urgency of the situation and did their best to expedite the process, it still took so very long. The other hindrance is transportation. If you want someone to go somewhere you have to provide the necessary transportation. There are not government vehicles available for the social welfare officers, and personal vehicles for the workers are few and far between. And, we couldn’t just give the Luanshya officer, Mrs. Mwalo, and address of a home to go to either. Baluba is a traditional, village community with haphazard placement of homes, no streets, only the tiny uneven dirt paths, and certainly no addresses.

But finally, we met Mrs. Mwalo in Luanshya. She is a woman of about 30 years I would imagine, strong, straight forward, compassionate, and I would say wise beyond her years. She is passionate about her job and the children of Zambia. She was a breath of fresh air. As we drove to Baluba we gave her all the details we knew. When we arrived she explained who she was and the purpose of her visit. She took down the family history, names, dates, and relationships. We also discovered that they were not living in the home, but only renting a tiny room attached to the home. The room is about five feet by eight feet with no windows, and only a chitenge covering the door. As we peered inside the only things there were a large blanket we had given them which was being used by the entire family to sleep on, the small blankets we had given Gift and Peter, and there was a small pile of clothes in the corner. That was all. There was nothing else. Mrs. Mwalo talked to them about their health issues, their income, and their addiction to alcohol, and on and on. She asked tough questions, like “It’s lunch time, why aren’t you preparing food for your children? Why don’t you have a small garden so they can at least have something to eat? Where is the food that was given to you for Peter? Why do you worry more about where your next drink is coming from than the well-being of your children? Why aren’t your children bathed?” She was thorough and she was firm, but she was also kind and compassionate. She also talked to Gift and a few of the neighbors. She discussed different options but in the end said the children would just have to be removed. Before we left, Sharon and Reagan agreed that Peter and Gift would go to a new home where they could be properly cared for. Mrs. Mwalo said that Sharon is very clever and it is her opinion that she only uses the children to get food and money. And so we would all search for a safe haven for the children, and then return. In the meantime, there was not one bite of food at the house. We went to the street market and bought mealie meal (for the staple food, nshima), oil, sugar, salt, and the vegetables commonly used to make the relish which accompanies the nshima – rape, tomatoes, onions, and a special treat of tiny eggplants. We returned with the food, and Mrs. Mwalo also handed an orange to baby Peter. I’m sure they feasted that night, and we all said a prayer that they wouldn’t sell the remaining food to buy beer.

Our mission was clear. Mrs. Mwalo would type her report and file the official findings. Foster and I would immediately begin to search for homes for Peter and Gift. Our first stop was a home we know here in Ndola that keeps HIV+ children. It is Buseko Home – which means joy. We had in fact recently visited there and knew the children were happy and well-cared for. However, the director informed us they were not able to accept any new children at this time. She suggested that we go to St. Anthony’s Home for Children in Masala, which is near the large traditional market where we purchase the food for the school. It is supported by the Catholic Church and Dominican Sisters and is a beautiful place. We immediately had a good feeling when we got out of the car – dozens of children came running, smiling and happy, holding out little hands to greet us, and some with arms outstretched wanting to be picked up and held. And so I picked up one little girl as another held my hand, pulling me to meet the adults, the mothers of the homes, and actually placing my hand in theirs, making sure there was a proper greeting. After a few minutes of reveling in that unexpected joy, we talked to the assistant director, Gertrude.

The director, Maureen was in Ndola. We phoned her, returned to Ndola to pick her up, and discussed the situation on the way back to Masala. She said in fact they would be happy to take both children and care for them. When we returned to the home, we knew we had found a place where the children would most definitely be loved. When we pulled up into the yard, and the children saw Maureen, they mobbed her until she could barely exit the car. They were holding onto her, hugging her legs, chattering and cheering for her return. That’s love. She gave us a tour of several of the houses, citing names and histories of all the children we met. She told us that there have been eight children who entered the home HIV+ who have now tested negative. She said they have been told that before a child is eighteen months it has its mother’s antibodies, but then can develop their own healthy antibodies with proper care and medications. But, as Maureen said “It is just a miracle from God.”

Mrs. Mwalo was familiar with St. Anthony’s and in favor of taking Peter and Gift there. She quickly made her report and we picked her up the following day and returned to Baluba to take Peter and Gift to their new home. The first person we saw was Gift. Poor little Gift - four years old and dressing herself - dress on backwards, buttoned wrong, and pants dragging the ground. Then we saw Peter sitting on the ground. Both children dirty and wearing the same dirty clothes as the day before. And then came Sharon. She refused to let the children leave. Reagan tried to talk to her, even attempted to pry Peter away from her. Mrs. Mwalo talked to her – argued with her. The neighbors gathered around and were yelling at Sharon to just give her children a chance to live and be cared for. But it all fell on deaf ears. We had no choice but to leave without the children. I think we were all crying as we entered the car, and watched as innocent Gift stood there waving good-bye. It was horrible. I think it was the hardest thing I have ever done, to leave those two children there. I wanted to just grab Peter and Gift and run. As we drove back to Luanshya we discussed what the law could do to protect these children. Mrs. Mwalo has never had a parent refuse to give their child a better life, and said she would have to do some research.

Foster and I returned to the Provincial Juvenile Welfare Office in Ndola and they made plans to return with Mrs. Mwalo and the police to forcibly remove Peter and Gift from the home. I dread that trip to Baluba and the ensuing encounter. But, we never know what each day will bring. That was Friday, and Saturday afternoon our guard came to find me at the house. He said there was a man with a child here to see me. But we never know what each day will bring. This afternoon, our guard came to find me and said there was a man with a child at the gate to see me. As I started walking down the path, Reagan, Peter’s father started walking toward me. I could see Sharon crouching near the guard house with Peter wrapped in a chitenge on her back. I immediately said a prayer of thanksgiving. We have been praying mightily that Sharon’s eyes and heart would be opened. Reagan speaks English quite well, and told me that he had just been talking and talking to his wife and now she agrees the children must go where they can be cared for properly. He said he told her to think of what will happen to the children after they are gone. He said “Me, I was even crying.” He said you’ve seen where we live, you know we have nothing and we cannot care for the children – God bless you for loving our children and wanting to help them.

When I approached Sharon, she greeted me and then immediately handed Peter to me – a sign of her willingness to release him. They wanted to see St. Anthony’s Children’s Home, so Ron and I drove them to Masala. The director was not there, but I explained to Gertrude that these were the parents and the infant Foster and I had talked to them about earlier in the week. Sharon passed Peter to me through the car window and remained inside the vehicle. I asked Reagan if Sharon wouldn’t like to come inside and see where her son would be living, but Ron said he would go to the car for her. I don’t know what he said or did, since Sharon doesn’t understand English, but he came back inside with her. Reagan was telling Peter to greet his new friends, and Peter was holding out his little hand to the other children. It was plain to see how pleased Reagan was – he saw happy children, laughing and playing. He remarked how clean and orderly the homes were, and how clean and well dressed and healthy looking all the children were. Even Sharon seemed to mellow as she spoke with the house mothers, explaining about Peter’s TB medication which she had brought along. Gertrude also explained that they were free to come and visit the children here, contact would not be severed. The house mother took Peter from me and whisked him away for a bath, complete with clean clothes and a diaper. As we drove back to Baluba we talked with Reagan trying to make sure they were sure – that Peter and Gift would be ready to go to this lovely new home on Monday morning. We felt they must be sincere since they had found a way to come here to our site at George all the way from Baluba – which is a very long distance. We spent the remainder of the weekend praying. Praying for a smooth transition on Monday. Praying that Sharon and Reagan are sincere. Praying that Sharon and Reagan’s hearts remain as they were this day – full of unselfish love for their children. Praying that Sharon and Reagan find peace and favor with the Lord. Praying for a happy new life for these two precious children.

And then came Monday, today. Foster came in from his home in Kitwe on the bus, and I met him at the turn off to Luanshya. He was ringing Mrs. Mwalo, but there was no answer. We drove to the office and she was not there. Fortunately we knew her home, and found her there and explained what had happened Saturday. She was relieved to not have to involve the police. It just makes it that much more difficult for everyone, especially the children. We drove to her office and she collected her papers and we were off to Baluba once more. When we arrived our anxieties quickly left as Sharon, Reagan, Gift and Peter all piled in to the car without incident. There was paperwork to be completed once we arrived at St. Anthony’s and so I picked up Gift and walked around with her, while one of the house mother’s again scooped Peter up in her arms and bathed and dressed him in clean clothes. I returned to find a shouting match occurring between Sharon and everyone else in the room. Sharon had changed her mind about leaving Gift. Mrs. Mwalo told her the choice was not hers any longer, that the law had made the decision. I quickly passed Gift to one of the mothers as the arguing continued. I followed a few minutes later and found Gift also being bathed and hair washed. Sharon was now sitting outside the house and Foster told me to get in the car. We were going for the police because Sharon refused to leave without Gift. We found a police station at Masala and were returning with one of the biggest, burliest looking police officers I have ever seen, when we spotted Sharon walking through the market. The officer jumped out of the car and escorted Sharon to the police station where she received a proper lecture from the officer in charge. As we drove back to Baluba, all you could hear was Sharon yelling. I asked Foster to translate a little please. He said she was saying that her husband doesn’t provide for her – she doesn’t have any nice clothes or shoes or a nice home or money for anything. I asked if she had said anything about the children. Mrs. Mwalo said she had not mentioned them once. She said she was only complaining about her own needs and wanting money. Mrs. Mwalo gave her a little bit of money from her own pocket – she said just for the sake of peace – and Sharon immediately quieted down and never said another word. When we finally dropped them at their home, I gave Reagan a Bible, and asked him to please read it and read it to Sharon. He thanked me and said he would. And Sharon also thanked me. I’ll never understand all that has transpired here. The only thing I can know for sure is that it is all according to God’s will.

Now, we continue in prayer for Sharon and Reagan and Gift and Peter. We are praying that Sharon and Reagan come to know the Lord in what time they have left, and that they seek counseling and treatment for their disease. I left Peter sitting in a bed playing with a toy – something I’m sure he has never done before, and Gift was in a tub full of water, hair soaped and eyes wide with wonder. I know that right now, they are being loved as they have never been loved before. We will return to visit, many times before leaving for the U.S. Maureen made a point to let us know “You are always most welcome here, anytime.”

I don’t think we’ll ever know the truth of the past, and at this point it really doesn’t matter. But what we do know is that Gift and Peter now have a chance at life, and hope for a future. Thank you Lord for your mercy and grace. Thank you Lord for blessing our lives with these special children, Gift and Peter. We thank you for providing a Christian home full of love for these children. We are so very thankful for the love and care and peace Peter and Gift will now know. But, my heart is still aching, for so many reasons. As we left Baluba for the last time today, I looked out onto the crowd of children who had gathered around us. And as they were smiling and waving good-bye, I wondered. How many more – how many more Peters and Gifts are there? Are they here right in front of me? Am I looking into their eyes now as I wave a tearful good-bye? Lord, please show us the way, guide our steps.

“Death is swallowed up in victory…through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:54

2008-08-25T13:14:00.000-07:00

Sunday 24 August 2008We don’t know how to begin. How do you begin when your heart is breaking and the tears won’t stop. Yesterday we received the devastating news that Ron’s sister Jan had passed away unexpectedly. Our minds are flooded with sweet, sweet memories and our hearts know a void not known before. In the stillness we feel here, the stars shining brightly in the dark, dark night, we pray each star be an angel whose bright light will span time and distance, bringing peace and comfort to our family. We have turned to the only place we can at this time, to God and His word. We don’t understand, and I suppose we are not meant to understand death and the pain and sorrow families are consumed with. We do know that love has no end, and neither does God’s grace and mercy. Today we are feeling more alone than we ever have in Zambia, and so very, very far away. We are grateful for your loving thoughts, for your prayers for our family, and for reminding us that Jan is now seated at the eternal banquet table of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We went to church this morning at the United Church of Zambia at Twapia – the closest thing we have to a “home” church here in Zambia. As we listened to the words of the songs today – “You are with me Jesus” – “Lord I come to You today, Lord I pray you show me your ways” – “Abide in me O Lord, abide in me I pray, You are Lord, My strength, My God” – “Jesus is our life today, tomorrow and forevermore” - and we witnessed a congregation full of joy in the Lord, and we were reminded that nothing compares to the promise we have in Jesus. And we offered a prayer of thanksgiving for the wonderful life of Jan, for her loving and kind ways, and for her children and grandchildren. We thanked God for the wonderful blessing of Jan, and that we were among the privileged few who knew her as sister and friend. Thank you Lord for our sweet, dear sister Jan.

“Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant…” Mathew 20:26

2008-08-20T13:25:00.000-07:00

Tuesday 19 August 2008Today Zambia lost a great man and a dedicated leader when President Levy Mwanawasa died at the age of 59 following complications from a stroke. He was one of the few leaders in Africa who was not afraid of opposition and not afraid to fight a difficult battle. He fought for what he believed in, and what he believed in was the Zambian people. He was heralded for his continuing fight against corruption at all levels of the government. He was a Christian man who lived a modest life as President of this nation. He was not known for his charisma, but for his honesty and integrity. He was highly respected and well known for being a true servant of the people. President Mwanawasa was committed to improving the lives of his fellow Zambians. He looked not only at the statistics, but also the tangible truth he could witness for himself. I’m sure there are those who did not love this man, but I have not met any. We were driving into town this afternoon when Foster received a text message on his phone saying the President had died. He looked for the Zambian flag which flies high above the Provincial Government Building in town. It was at half mast. A sure sign that the message was true. The first reaction here was disbelief. The second reaction was to drop to your knees and pray. Pray for this nation who was struggling with this strong leader to fight its way out of a corrupt political arena. Pray that the economic advances President Mwanawasa fought so hard and so long for will not be lost. Pray that the corrupt politicians will not be able to buy their way into office. Pray for peace. There is fear here. Fear for the nation’s future. Fear of opposing parties, fear of opposing factions within the ruling party, fear there may be attempted outbreaks of violence by opposing parties. Kitwe, the town Foster and his family call home is a political hotspot. Immediately following the announcement of the President’s death, soldiers were deployed and lined the streets of Kitwe, as a reminder that law and order will prevail, and they are very ready to stop any outbreaks of violence or riotous behavior. The streets here in Ndola remain calm. Already the streets here are quieter though, as Zambia begins a seven day national period of mourning. There is a tremendous sense of loss.We simply don’t know the effect any of this may have on our stay here. We will see more of what is to come following the national period of mourning. There is no perceived sense of fear or any reason to believe there will be any trouble along our path. But we don’t know. Americans are well received here and welcome. But, we are on the U.S. Embassy listing for notification of any impending danger and we can depend on their assistance as well, if needed.

“Suffer the little children to come unto me… for of such is the kingdom of God” Mark 10:14

2008-08-19T12:18:00.000-07:00

Monday 18 August 2008Today was the first time I saw baby Peter smile. What a glorious site that was! He reached out his sweet little hand to me…and he smiled. It was a crooked, endearing little smile, and I never saw anything more beautiful in my life. Could this even be the same child who only a few weeks ago I was so afraid would die very much too soon? But let me back up a little... When Foster and I returned to the hospital to check on Peter we discovered he had been discharged and we immediately went to his home in Baluba. His mother’s cousin told us they had moved to Pamodzi, a compound far from Baluba, and on the other side of town. She said to go to the Methodist Church and ask for Mrs. Reagan who is in a wheel chair. Mrs. Reagan is Peter’s grandmother. And so we drove to Pamodzi, a very large and heavily populated compound past Kansenshi and on the way to Chifubu. As soon as we entered we asked directions. We asked directions many, many, many times. And each time we asked, we also asked if they knew Mrs. Reagan in a wheelchair or Peter and Sharon Mposhi. How could it be so hard to find the Methodist Church and a woman in a wheelchair? Finally Foster spotted a woman dressed as one of the sisters of the Methodist Church. After a long discussion in Bemba, Foster relayed the disappointing news. There was not a Mrs. Reagan in a wheelchair at the Methodist Church, and she did not know of Peter or his mother, Sharon. But the good news was there was another Methodist Church. This was the African Methodist Church and she suggested we ask at the United Methodist Church. So Foster carefully backed the Land Cruiser out of the narrow, bumpy foot path and back onto the dirt road of Pamodzi. And we were off in search of the next Methodist Church. Once again, after many stops we finally located the United Methodist Church next to the line of bars in town. The minister greeted us warmly, and was very sorry, but he had only been transferred there a week ago and did not know about any of the people we asked about. We decided all we could do was return to Baluba, pick up Sharon’s cousin, and take her to Pamodzi with us in search of baby Peter.We returned to Baluba and were told they had moved back to Baluba, but to a different house. As we drove down the deeply rutted path, a little girl about 5 years old shouted to us and pointed which way we should go to find Peter. Everyone knew why we had come. It was the house just past the banana trees. As we walked toward the house a woman came out. Foster explained who we were looking for and why. She said that yes, they live there now, but Sharon had found work and Peter was with her. But she could show us the place. So, she hopped in the car and we were off. I didn’t know what a large village Baluba is. We drove all the way to the main road, crossed over to the other side, and headed deeper into the bush. We came to one point that we weren’t sure the car could cross. It was a dirt bridge, and someone had been digging along the side. We stopped. I asked how far to walk. Foster asked the woman, and said we cannot walk. Then he said “I think we can just make it.” So, very, very slowly we crossed over the much too narrow “bridge”, as I leaned far out the window directing which way to turn or if there was danger of falling off the side. Foster’s skill shone forth, and we all cheered. We drove for what seemed like an eternity down the tiny, winding path. We had to close the windows because the elephant grass which was so close on each side was also so tall it was bending from the weight and invading through the car windows, whipping at our faces. We continued down what was clearly a foot path, winding around huge ant mounds, until we finally saw a large clearing. Just beyond that was the farm where Sharon had found some work. As we approached, we knew this was a wealthy man in Baluba – he had large planted fields, cattle, pigs, goats and chickens. He looked to be around 80 years of age – I wonder how old he really was. At any rate, he was very friendly and happy to receive visitors. I don’t imagine he gets many visitors there. Unfortunately we had just missed Sharon. She had finished work for the day and was walking home – taking the shortcut the car could never make. So, we drove out as we had driven in – a long and arduous drive – and I wondered if we would ever find Peter. But as we drove back to the other side of Baluba toward the house, we saw them. And Sharon was so happy to see us she immediately began laughing and ran toward us. And there was Peter, tied to her back with a chitenge. I was never so happy to see anyone. I had feared that Sharon had fled, afraid to face their future. But there they were. As we talked, we found out that they had never moved to Pamodzi, but to Chipulukusu. We would have been searching a long time! We also discovered that Peter was on TB medication, antibiotics, and an anti-fungal for sores he had in his mouth, all of which had finished that day. Thank you Lord, for bringing us to Peter on this day. So we dropped them at home, quickly went back into town to the pharmacy which was about to close, picked up food for Peter as suggested by the doctor, and then back to Baluba. And Baluba is far from town. George is about the halfway point between Baluba and town. When we returned we went inside the home. It is the home of Sharon’s elder sister, and a much better place than where they previously had been. Peter’s father, Ronald, is out of prison now and home, and had been working at the farm with Sharon. We made arrangements to take Peter for his check-up at children’s hospital on Monday. The parents had also been advised by the hospital to go for VCT – voluntary counseling and testing for HIV. Peter’s sister Gift has already tested negative. And that brings us to today.We took some clothes for Peter and his older sister Gift today. As they all piled into the car I could see it had been a wise choice. Gift, four years old, was dressed in a deep red velvet dress, fancy with lace and a little flower. But as I handed Sharon the bag of clothes, I saw Gift’s beautiful dress was almost in shreds. There were long tears throughout the well-worn fabric. Sharon quickly dressed her in the bright red skort, white shirt and denim tennis shoes. Peter was wearing the shirt we had given him last time, but Sharon put his new pants and socks and shoes on. When I turned around to look at Peter and greet them all, that’s when he reached out to me and smiled. It was so wonderful to see him looking and feeling so much better, and actually smiling. His check-up went very well. Next we went to the family center where Sharon and husband could be tested for HIV. It is a very long process as there is intensive counseling first, then testing, then results. As we waited Gift remained with Foster and me. There was an area for the children to play, and even some toys to play with, but she was not interested. Gift climbed onto my lap, content to watch the other children. I asked if she wouldn’t like to play and took her by the hand to the area where the other children were pushing trucks and stacking blocks. I got down on the floor and played dump trucks with one little boy, encouraging Gift to join in. But she just stood and watched. So we returned to the bench to wait. But as the time passed, she climbed off my lap and decided to play with a few blocks and the rear axle of a broken plastic truck – alone. But then came Johnny. Johnny was a four year old pistol – bright and smiling, vivacious and happy and very outgoing. Soon they were playing together, and as I watched them I thought these could be two children anywhere – well dressed, happy, laughing, and a little fighting over the toys – typical four-year old behavior. And then I looked at the sign above the doorway for the HIV testing facility, and I saw Gift’s little belly swollen from worms, and I remembered how she had been dressed this morning… and I remembered where we are.When Sharon and husband had completed everything we were very surprised to learn that Sharon had not advised her husband about Peter’s positive HIV status, or that it was probable that Sharon was also positive. It’s still unclear to me why he thought they were going to the testing facility, but he was clearly shocked by what he discovered. He declined to be tested today, saying he was too shocked and needed a few days to absorb everything. He said he will return on his own Friday. Sharon’s test results were positive. We return to the hospital on Wednesday for Peter and Sharon to begin their course of ARV medications.It was a sad day, but a good day. Good to see Peter healthier and smiling. Good to see Gift playing and smiling. Good to be here in Zambia with the children. Please pray for Peter and Gift and their family. Please pray for all God’s children…all the Peters and Gifts.

Great is your love, reaching to the heavens… Psalm 57:10

2008-08-16T12:03:00.000-07:00

Sunday 10 August 2008 We decided not to go to church today as I had a bad headache. Around 9am there was a knock on the door. When I answered, there stood a man – a white man – with a black child in his arms, about 18 months old. The man stated very simply, “I am here to give my late wife’s clothing to you for the children and young adults you serve.” The grief in his eyes was very apparent, and very, very new. As he spoke the little boy began to cry, huge tears rolling down his tiny little cheeks, and we knew he was crying for the loss of his mother. And the man said, “This is our son”, choking back his own tears. He was a young man, under 30 years, and overcome with the grief that comes with an unexpected and sudden loss. His eyes were a bit red, and he had a dazed, faraway look in his eyes. He was desperately trying to be strong enough – long enough – to do this – to donate his wife’s clothing to children in need. His words were few, but he told me his wife, a Zambian woman, only 26 years old had just died from malaria. She lived near here, but he was living in Australia. She was preparing to move to Australia when she became ill. The malaria went to her brain, and there was nothing that could be done. Once again, we are reminded how very fragile life is here. He was in shock, and not talking much, so I don’t know how he knew to come here or who sent him – it really doesn’t matter. But, I guess we all know who really sent him. God’s presence here is always very evident. There were three women accompanying this young man who brought in several suitcases full of clothing and shoes. As we spoke they deposited heaps of clothing on school desks and chairs. I pray he and his wife’s family are taking comfort in knowing her clothing will benefit these children who have nothing. In his loss he has given a tremendous gift to our children. As he quickly turned away to leave, still choking back his tears, I asked his name and he only replied Gary. I took his hand in mine for a brief moment, and thanked him again for thinking of our children, and invited him to return at any time. May God bless Gary and his family. Please take a moment to pray for Gary and his orphaned son. It is the only gift we can give him in return.

“Consider the lilies of the field…” Matthew 6:28

2008-08-13T11:18:00.000-07:00

Monday 4 August 2008

Today began the home visits for the students attending the OMNI School. August is a “holiday” month for the school children in Zambia. Teddy, our long-time teacher, suggested we visit this month so as not to interrupt the children’s schooling. The challenge will be to find the children at home. For some the holiday means a time to visit grandparents or parents who live far away, for some of the younger children it’s a time to visit and play with friends and relatives in George, for some of the boys it’s a time to trap as many rats as possible – earning a bit of money by selling the rats for food, and as always it’s a time for work – making the long walk to the grinding mill, constructing mud bricks for home repairs, tilling the land, and fetching water.

I packed my backpack this morning with paper and pens to record information and take family histories and my camera to photograph the children and their families. Then I packed worm medication, anti-fungal cream, triple antibiotic ointment, band-aids, alcohol wipes, rubber gloves, birthing kits, and cough drops hoping to be able to address some of the family’s needs while visiting. Teddy met me at 8am and we were off walking. This is without a doubt one of my favorite times here in Zambia. It is such a privilege to walk through the village of George and greet our children and their families. It is a privilege to see where our children live, how they live, who they live with, and hear their guardians’ comments and concerns. And it fills my heart to overflowing to know we are welcome here – OMNI and Ron and I. We were greeted by nearly everyone we passed along the way, people calling out their welcome from their homes and from neighboring trails when they would see us. Most of the children in our school now know my name, so all day I was answering the waves and calls of smiling children “Mary Sue, how are you?” Teddy was answering the calls of the adults, each one wanting to make sure we would visit their home too.

Caregivers expressed their gratitude to OMNI for bringing education to their children and this community, stating that they simply cannot afford to send their children to a government school. As one grandmother said, without OMNI her grandchildren would not be receiving an education, a chance for a future, they would be just be loitering. Now they have a chance for the future, a chance to secure a job, and a chance to help the village be lifted up. They also were thanking us for providing a meal each day for their children – for some children the only meal they receive. The children and their guardians also expressed their gratitude to the sponsors who help to make this education and feeding program possible, and for their letters. The children and their caregivers look forward to that letter so much, and to the photos the sponsors send of themselves and their families. Letters are not common in the bush of Zambia and so that is a real treat which the entire family shares in.

Today was also especially gratifying to witness the interaction of our teacher Teddy, or should I say our beloved teacher Teddy, with the children and their families. He loves the children – all the children – and they love him. Even little ones not in school, come to him and while I’m not sure what they are saying, they are soon laughing together. And when a child’s guardian brings forward a problem or health issue I can see the genuine concern in his expression and the gentle touch of his hand on a child’s shoulder.

What touched my heart most today was the visit to the home of James Maganizo, our fourth home today. James is one of the sweetest boys I have ever known. During school days he always greets me with his shy little smile, head tilted down, and hand outstretched. Today was no different. When we arrived at his home his mother hurried inside to find a seat for Teddy and I as James greeted us with the traditional Zambian handshake and tiny curtsey. The difference today was he was not dressed in his school uniform. He was in his usual, every day clothes, and I couldn’t help but want to cry. His clothes were worn and torn, his pants did not fit properly and he had no shoes. Yet he had the biggest smile I ever saw. His mother, Veronica, soon came out with a chair for me covered with a lace edged cloth, and a small wooden bench about ten inches long and eight inches from the ground for Teddy. The best she had for her guests. As she moved the chair close to me and said “You can take a seat please” I noticed how the thin legs of the chair wobbled to and fro and the deeply worn red velvet upholstery under the laced cloth. I said “Twatotela” (we thank you) and carefully sat down as she offered her hand in welcoming friendship along with a deep curtsey.

It was oftentimes difficult for me to focus on the questions we were asking as I looked at this mother and child and their surroundings. James’ mother wore a shirt much too large for her slim frame. The shirt was held together in several places with safety pins, and the chitenge wrapped around her waist was faded by the years and worn. Their home was neat in appearance, the dirt yard still remaining with traces of the lines from having been swept with the elephant grass broom. As with all the homes in George, there is no electricity and no running water. The tiny mud brick home has been painted, using dirt containing clay mixed with water to create the decorative reddish orange trim at the bottom of the structure. While we don’t see anything you could call plentiful here in George, this home was stark by comparison to most. The roof was covered with the typical thatching, but the grass was sparse. The underlying plastic on the roof meant to keep rain out was missing in many places, having suffered the effects of the wind and rain and heat. There was no shelter for the cooking area, just an open fire near the front of the house where several small logs were burning slowly and a tiny black pot was perched directly in the center of the low flames. There was a small plastic tub at the front of the house where she had been washing their few clothes. There were no curtains or chitenges, not even an empty sack hanging in the windows or doorways which is customary here. There was a wood door at the front entrance, but it fell short of reaching the top of the doorway by nearly a foot.

James’ mother was very pleasant and soft-spoken. She answered each question to the best of her ability, slowly and thoughtfully, and was ready with James’ clinic card to show us he had received all of his vaccinations and that his recorded birth date is the 20th of October 1997. James is a single orphan. His mother explained that his father was attacked by criminals and killed in 2001. James has seven older half-brothers and sisters and one half-brother who died at the age of eight from yellow fever. His mother, Veronica was born in 1952 and has been ill for the past four years from a variety of causes – swelling of the face, fever, chest pains and the like. She and James go to the medical clinic at Twapia when they are ill, but care there is limited. Teddy told me that there have been many times she has been very ill. When the parents and guardians helped to clear a piece of land she was too sick to help and her elder daughter came and did the work, but Veronica came and was there. She is a responsible mother doing the best she can for her son. We discovered that they usually eat only once a day – nshima (the staple food of corn meal cooked with water) and some few vegetables, usually the ones which grow wild here. When she is able, she buys tomatoes and onions from the market and sells in George where there is no market, in order to earn a little money. When I asked if she had any questions for me or anything she would like to tell me her only reply was to express her gratitude for the education OMNI is providing for her child. Without the OMNI School James would not be able to attend school. And she is grateful for the meal he receives every day at school – she can see is healthier now. And in the traditional Zambian manner, she clapped her hands together and thanked me for visiting her.

This family I think is among the poorest of the poor. Yet they asked for nothing. There was nothing but gratitude in Veronica’s heart. She welcomed me. She thanked OMNI. She thanked me. My heart was breaking when we finally said good-bye. I have tremendous respect for Veronica. I respect her strength, her courage, her determination, and her dedication to her son. I think I can learn a lot from Veronica and James. Rest assured, we will be returning with clothing and shoes for both mother and son. Tonight I will be saying an extra prayer for James and his mother, and all the families here in such great need. And I’ll also be saying a prayer of thanksgiving – for the sweet, sweet smile of James and that God has blessed him with this special mother.

“Worship the Lord with gladness; come before him with joyful songs.” Psalm 100:2

2008-08-12T12:54:00.000-07:00

Sunday 3 August 2008

Thomas Bwalya was one of the brick layers working at the OMNI project site last year, and we are blessed to now call him our friend. He stopped last week to welcome us back, and brought the latest addition to his family, Mabel. She was born last October shortly after we left and she is one of the happiest babies I have ever seen. When Thomas stopped to visit he also invited us to attend his church, and so today was our first church service since arriving in Zambia. Thomas and the minister of the church, Pastor Steve Makhoti, arrived at 8am to escort us to their church. A most welcoming gesture, and one of true friendship. The church is at Dag Hammarskjöld, a neighboring community to George. As we drove we talked of many things. We talked about the difficulties of sustaining a church in the bush of Zambia where total weekly donations average 10,000 kwacha (roughly $3). We talked about blessings – that the truest blessing is having Jesus in your heart and walking in His ways. We talked about the differences of living in the United States and Zambia. We talked about strength. The strength of the people of Zambia. The physical strength and the spiritual strength that is so evident here. I said I wished I could have even a fraction of the strength we have witnessed here, both spiritually and physically. Pastor Makhoti responded with “You are a white woman living in the bush of Zambia. You are stronger than you think. And remember Philippians 4:13 – You can do all things through Christ. Your strength, as our strength, comes through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.” Those wise and kind words were what I needed to hear today, and I thank God for that reminder – that we can do all things through Him.

Then we began the long drive into Dag Hammarskjöld. Now a familiar place, we first drove down the deeply pitted asphalt road, more dirt than asphalt now, lined with tall, tall pines as far as the eye can see. Then onto a dirt road, barren on each side except for the high tension wires and one small stream where a few children were gathered washing. And then onto the dirt path, mostly used as a foot path, with deep ruts and many washed out areas. Homes are few and isolated. They are the typical homes of the villages here – small mud brick homes, one or two rooms, with a thatched roof. As we drove, the path narrowed with each turn, and we made our way past tall elephant grass, winding around trees and huge ant hills (most about 20 feet high). Then we turned onto church “road”. We drove in and around and through church yards until we finally reached Deliverance Everngelist Pentecost Church. As we made the long, difficult drive we discussed with Pastor Makhoti his weekly journey to preach at this church and minister to this congregation. He lives in Masala and takes the bus to the roadside of Dag Hammerskojld. When I say bus, I don’t mean a city bus like we are used to in the United States. This is a mini-bus, overcrowded with people sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, a driver who may or may not have a license, and the bus may or may not have enough fuel, and it very likely might break down on the way to your destination. Once the pastor makes it to the entrance of Dag Hammarskjöld he walks over 15 kilometers to reach his congregation, dressed in a suit and tie, and carrying a case with his Bible and notes. And I am reminded once again that we can do all things through Christ.

When we arrived there was no one else at church. But as I said, homes are far and walks are long. Thomas also explained that many of the women from the congregation were across the river at a coming of age camp for one of the girls in the community. As we entered the church we saw the familiar split log benches, close to the ground and supported by short round stumps. I sat in what I thought to be a sturdy looking bench, the end of the bench embedded into the wall. The roof is constructed of timbers which form cross-supports, then covered with plastic, and finally topped with elephant grass thatching. The sun was hot, and shone through spots where the plastic had been torn away by the wind and weather. The main support for the roof is a tree, a bit off-center, which has been cut into a “Y” shape and holds the cross beam securely in place.

After some time, Pastor Makhoti decided to begin the service even though there were only eight of us present. As honored guests we were invited to sit at the front of the church, sharing a bench with the pastor and one of the church elders. The service, of course, began with singing – Pastor began singing a song of praise and the others joined in. As the song continued, people entered the church. One by one, two by two, adults and children alike walked through the door singing as they entered. Before the song ended those rough benches were full, almost overfull, as our number grew from eight to eighty-eight, and the walls very nearly shook with the power of that song. We were reminded of one of our favorite movies, “The Bishop’s Wife”. In the movie a boy’s choir has been called for practice, but only two boys have come. As they begin singing, an angel in their midst calls in the remaining children with a wave of his hand until all the seats are full and the choir is glorious in its strength and harmony.

Today is a national day of prayer for the President of Zambia, Levy Mwanawasa, as he continues recovering from a stroke in a French hospital. There were many prayers for the return of his good health and a full and speedy recovery, as his death or continuing disability could prove disastrous to the nation, many fearing attempted takeovers by rebels and dissident factions. Prayers that God’s favor may embrace the people of Zambia. Our lesson today was Acts 2:42-47 – the fellowship of believers and the favor of God. We implore God that His favor may grace our lives, and thank God for the favor He has bestowed upon us in so many ways.

Many come forward to offer their testimony of thanksgiving for the gifts and favor God has shown them the past week. We hear thanks for healing, thanks for safe journey, and thanks for the visitors from America who have come to worship with them and share in their joy of the Lord. Members of the congregation also came forward, kneeling on the hard dirt floor, asking for prayers of healing. The congregation was singing in beautiful harmony and the quiet, slow beat of a drum in the background, as Pastor Makhoti laid hands on each person, praying for each according to their need. One young woman went into seizures as demons were exercised from her. Two other women came forward and gently held her arms and tied her chitenge around her feet so she would not hurt herself as she writhed on the dirt floor of the church, shaking violently. When the seizure ended, she was carried from the church unconscious, and the two women cared for her until she was able to return.

There are many, many songs – songs of praise and thanksgiving, songs which tell a Bible story (Moses and the parting of the Red Sea), songs of deliverance, songs begging forgiveness of our sins, songs of salvation and redemption, and songs of the power of faith and God’s grace. The women of the church exit the building, and reenter dancing and singing. They form a circle at the front of the church where they continue singing and dancing, using hand motions to tell a story. The youth of the church form a line, keeping step with their song, and carry the drums and tambourines forward. They form a circle around the drums, singing and marching and asking for God’s guidance. All the while the congregation is singing along in unbelievable harmony, some with hands raised in praise, others clapping in joy. Even Thomas’ nine month old daughter, tied on the back of his older daughter with a chitenge, is laughing and clapping her hands. There is a song about taking the gospel out into the world, sharing the love of Jesus, and making Him known to all. Pastor Makhoti is very animated. With his contagious smile, and holding his Bible high above his head, marches throughout the church singing, demonstrating the way we can bring God’s Word to all the world – walk – march – sing – and proclaim the glory of God to all the nations.

We arrived home again around 2:30 in the afternoon accompanied by Thomas. Worship in Zambia is not an hour long service. It is a day truly dedicated to the Lord. It is joy – it is celebration – it is a lesson in humility – it is a lesson in worship – worshipping with all our hearts, all that we have and all that we are.

(The entire congregation is not pictured, as children scattered to play, and many women were busy preparing food. Pastor Makhoti is next to me, and that’s Thomas next to him, holding his Bible high.)

“I will sing and make music with all my soul.” Psalm 108:1

2008-08-10T03:12:00.000-07:00

Thursday 31 July 2008

I wondered at all the commotion this morning, as I heard the loud noises of desks being shifted and lots of chatter. As I entered the school room I saw the children carrying desks outside and discovered that today is cleaning day at the OMNI School. Tomorrow is the last day of school, and today is the day the teachers have designated for cleaning the school rooms and the yard. The children quickly removed all the desks and chairs from two of the classrooms while Ron and Teddy dismantled the two large tables the children have been using in the other classroom. The tables are actually dining tables for the house, but are serving a much needed purpose in the classroom now. The steel bases are in need of repair and will be transported to Twapia, to William the welder for repair and reinforcement. The yard was now covered with desks and the children stacked some chairs, and formed trains with others – sitting one behind the other in the line of chairs. When I looked back inside all I could see was a thick dark cloud circulating around the red of the children’s uniforms. Remember, this is the “dusty season”. Some of the boys were busy sweeping the floors, using the traditional brooms made from elephant grass. The brooms are only about 15” long and the grass is tied at one end with a small piece of leather or rope. The boys were bent over low, quickly moving the dirt and debris, eventually sweeping it outside onto the ground. While they were sweeping others were fetching water. One child did all the pumping, while the rest formed a procession filling containers and carrying the water. Some watered the garden and others brought buckets and pans of water for cleaning. The older children washed the walls – as high as they could reach standing on chairs, while others mopped the floors and washed the windows and doors. They cleaned according to what they are used to: the small traditional brooms, a thread-bare rope mop, water only as warm as it comes from the well, and no soap. The older boys were especially proud of their accomplishment in cleaning and requested a photograph, as cleaning is not typically for the older males in Zambia. The older girls inside began singing as they washed the windows and walls. The girls washing the windows outside joined in, and then I heard drumming. When I went outside to see who had brought a drum I found several boys using the desks as drums; beating the laminate tops with one hand and the metal side with the other, keeping perfect rhythm. It was like a magnet, and the children who were playing drew nearer, and all the children joined in singing. It was beautiful - children of all ages, working, playing and singing together. When one song would finish, you could hear another voice begin the next song almost immediately. And it wasn’t always an older, stronger voice. Often it was the soft voice of a small child which began, but the others always joined in. I wish I could tell you everything they were singing, but the only time I could join in was when one tiny little voice began “We are singing in the light of God...”

"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." Romans 8:18

2008-08-03T14:13:00.000-07:00

Nothing is ever “easy” by American terms in Zambia. Mary Sue and Ron are sure being tested with many challenges. The first is something that we all take for granted – electricity. Mary Sue says that first they can’t get into the internet for more than three minutes at a time – not enough time to post a blog. And then, when they have internet access, they don’t have enough electricity to charge the battery on the lap top. So, I will do my best to convey what has been going on this past week at the George Compound.

First, I know that all of you are waiting to hear about the snake situation at George. They continue to see snakes and Ron is getting very good at killing them. They now have a collection of snakes hanging from a tree. Mary Sue asked why they needed to hang them there? The reply was that they were proud to have killed the snake and they wanted everyone to know about it. Please pray for their safety!

School is in recess at George Compound. Tomorrow is a holiday called Farmer’s Day. I assume that this means that all of the crops will be harvested and traded or maybe it is just another day off to laze in the sun and drink the homemade “hooch”? Nevertheless, Mary Sue and Teddy will begin interviews of the families living at George Compound. This is being done to determine what children should be in school at the OMNI Village and also to find out if there are double orphans (both mother and father deceased) that need housing assistance. Please pray for all of the people living at George Compound.

The infamous steel building is now about one third completed. Most all of the rafters have been put in place and the wall panels are being installed. All this by four hard- working men -- Ron and three other Zambian workers. Ron expects to complete this building, which will be used as storage, before they leave in October. The school building/cafeteria still needs to be completed as well. Windows need to be installed and the inside needs to be cleaned up before the desks can be moved to the new building. Mary Sue expects to purchase the rest of the school equipment this month and have the school ready for occupancy by next term. Please pray for good health and strength as this large task is completed.

Update on the housing situation for Mary Sue and Ron. They now have a heater for their bedroom (it gets very cold at night)! Imagine the children and families with no shoes or blankets. There is no running water to the house but the plumbing has been installed!! To flush the toilet, just fill the tank with water and flush – never mind that the water pump is about 300 feet from the house!! Shower, what shower? OMNI team members can think back to the “Agape showers” we used to take. Well, this is what Ron and Mary Sue have to look forward to once a week. Otherwise, it is just wash up however you can! After one month in Zambia, Ron decided to treat Mary Sue to dinner out at the Castle Lodge. This is the place they stayed for several nights when they first arrived. The owner took pity on them and told them to shower before dinner – no charge!! Mary Sue said she didn’t know how great hot, running water on her head and shoulders could feel. Please pray for comfort, grace and thanksgiving for good friends!

May God watch over you and bless you, Ron and Mary Sue!

“…Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Colossians 1:27

2008-07-29T08:33:00.000-07:00

Friday 25 July 2008

Many of you will remember baby Peter Mposhi from the April team’s blog. The team met Peter during a mobile medical clinic that was held in Baluba, which is in the deep bush, deeper than George. Peter was brought in by his mother Sharon, and accompanied by his older sister, Gift. Peter is 1 year 8 months, but looks to be around nine months. His tiny face was thin and drawn, his large eyes desperate and pleading, as he clung tightly to his mother’s breast. Peter and his mother both tested positive for HIV/Aids. Peter’s older sister, Gift, who is 4 years 4 months tested negative. The father is in prison. The team transported Peter to Arthur Davison Children’s Hospital in Ndola, where he could receive care in the malnutrition ward and then be placed on HIV medications. What Foster, our Zambia director discovered after the team returned to the United States, was that Sharon fled the hospital with baby Peter before the medications had begun. We’re still not clear as to why she fled, but there are many superstitions here regarding hospitals, and so many do not leave the hospital alive there is some reluctance. Remember, we are in a third world country. The people here, especially those from the bush have been raised according to tribal traditions and have very little knowledge of hospitals. Most of what they know of hospitals is that the rear of the hospital, the morgue, is where a funeral begins. Witchcraft is still practiced in many areas. And also consider the limited resources of a hospital in a third world country such as Zambia. We find dedicated physicians and nurses in these facilities, but their resources are limited. Time and time again we have seen medical equipment sitting idle because there are no funds for maintenance or repairs, or because they have been donated from another country and replacement parts are not available here. At any rate, I do not know why Sharon fled with Peter; there could be so many reasons.

I met Peter on our first day in Zambia, the 10th of July. Ron and I were accompanying Foster on his usual monthly rounds of delivering food stuffs to the children OMNI cares for on a continuing basis. I immediately saw why the team’s hearts had ached so after meeting Peter. Sweet, innocent Peter. A child who has lived such a short time, and yet touched the hearts of so many. As we drove down the very rough path to their home in Baluba, Sharon came from her neighboring cousin’s house with Peter wrapped in a chitenge tied close to her. We stopped the car and there was Peter, holding tightly to his mother, his only security. As we drew near I could see that desperate look in his beautiful brown eyes. You can see so much in his eyes; the pain, the pleading, the anguish, the despair. It is just too much to see in the eyes of a child. And as I looked deep into those wide eyes, I knew I was looking straight into the face of Jesus. Before me was an innocent child condemned to death. And what could I do. His tiny hand reached for me, and as I held that sweet little hand I said a silent prayer for this child and his family, and I thanked God for the blessing of Peter’s life. My heart was breaking wide open, as my mind was flooded with questions that have no answer. I wanted to drop to my knees and just cry and cry and cry, until no more tears would come. I knew I could not. But I did try to remember God’s promises – He is with us always. His name is Emmanuel, God with us. And I knew that Jesus Christ in all His grace and mercy would never leave this child. And the best we can do is to love him, love him as Christ has asked us to, and care for him the best way we are able.

As we walked across the rut filled dirt path to their home I was struck by what a barren looking place it was. A tiny little house; the tremendous need much too apparent. All I could see were two recently washed blankets, riddled with holes that lay drying on top of some small plants just above the dusty ground. Then I looked at Peter’s sister, Gift. There was no trace of a smile, wearing a torn dress, she is petite and pretty, and I wondered what would become of her in the days to come.

We had brought kapenta, tiny whole fish, and ground nuts (similar to peanuts) which had been ground into a fine meal. Both very nutritious and packed with the good things Peter’s tiny body needs. We made arrangements to take Peter for medical care on Tuesday, after Sharon returns from a church conference. Peter’s cough was deep and worrisome. As we drove away Foster also explained that Sharon drinks too much, and he wonders how much of the food Peter actually receives, as they spend much of their time at the cousin’s home, even sharing meals there. Everyone’s need is so great.

When we returned on Tuesday, the change in Peter’s condition was dramatic and devastating. In those few days his little face had become drawn and sullen, he was not responsive, and his cough had worsened. Sharon asked if we could also transport another relative to Twapia Clinic – a young man whose feet and legs had severely swollen. When we saw him, we knew at once that this man was actively dying. The result of waiting too late for an HIV diagnosis; the medications unable to alleviate any of the effects of the disease, and it quickly progresses to an advanced stage. To see this man, and the look in his eyes – searching and frantic – it is something I will never forget. We drove in silence, except for sound of the deep wheezing and coughing of Peter, and the quiet sobbing of his mother Sharon. In fact, Foster and I were also crying, silently wiping the tears away, seeing how quickly Peter had become so desperately ill, and fearing his time here on earth was quickly drawing to an end. Peter was admitted to the hospital again. This time Sharon assured Foster there would be no fleeing. She had seen the results and how very sick Peter had become.

We returned in a few days to find Peter looking better and more alert, but with large sores at the corners of his mouth. Foster spoke to a nurse and she said they were running blood tests, and the doctor had Sharon stop breast feeding due to her positive status. Peter was improved and we were happy to see Sharon so attentive.

Ron and I visited Peter again today at the hospital. Although Foster is at his home in Kitwe, and we knew we could not speak to the mother, Sharon, we were hoping to find a nurse who would be willing to talk to us. When we arrived the nurse in charge brought Sharon and Peter out to see us, and then introduced me to Peter’s doctor. I was so grateful to have this unique opportunity to speak with him and learn of Peter’s condition and what plans are in place. Dr. David said Peter was severely malnourished when he arrived at the hospital last week. I expressed my concern over this, since OMNI has been providing ample food for him. Unfortunately, it seems Foster’s fears that others may also be consuming the food were not unfounded. I’m not sure how we will deal with that. The first goal at the hospital was to build him up nutritionally, which they have done. The doctor confirmed that Peter is definitely HIV positive, and they also fear he now has TB and/or pneumonia. The x-ray is indicative of TB, but they need to do more tests to be sure. He said once the TB status is determined, they will most likely treat the TB and pneumonia before placing him on HIV meds. The sores were much improved around Peter’s mouth, and he was much more responsive, even reaching out to take hold of Ron’s hand. Dr. David assured me if there were any needs before I returned to the hospital he would phone me. I also asked the doctor if he had the opportunity to observe Sharon with Peter. He said Sharon has taken very good care of Peter, and has even helped care for other babies whose mothers were not caring for them. We will return again next week to check on Peter. In God’s eyes we are all one in family with Peter, Gift and Sharon; brother and sisters in Christ. Please remember them in your prayers.
“The Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.” Romans 8:26

“…Rejoice because your names are written in heaven.” Luke 10:20

2008-07-24T06:03:00.000-07:00

Tuesday 22 July 2008

Mrs. Kasonde – born 1943, died 2008

Our hope is in Jesus, and the place of hope He has prepared for us is called heaven. Today was our first funeral transport this year. Mrs. Kasonde was, by Zambian standards, a very old woman. We are told that she died peacefully in her sleep from high blood pressure. We know from the hundreds in attendance at her burial that she was a highly respected and well-liked woman from George Compound. To her family she was a pillar. Mrs. Kasonde attended the Jerusalem Church in Chipalakusu, which is quite a distance from here. We are told she walked there each and every Sunday to worship. At her burial, the choir members from her church walked to Kantolomba to sing of God’s glory and thanksgiving for Mrs. Kasonde’s life. We were never able to find out her first name. We asked her son, and he said, “I don’t know, I only called her Mom.” But everyone knew her, and it seems as though the entire George Compound is in mourning. She was in fact, Foster’s neighbor here at George. She left behind a husband, six children and ten grandchildren, siblings, nieces, nephews and cousins.

Our trek began around 9am this morning. As Ron swept out the back of the truck he noticed a large crowd forming just in front of the gates to the children’s village. As we pulled forward and the gates opened, people of all ages climbed into the back of the truck, many women with babies on their backs wrapped tightly in chitenges. We could see others running down the dusty road, hoping to make it in time to catch a ride. You see, the walk to Kantolomba cemetery is well over 2.5 hours. But, there were many, many people who made that long walk to Kantolomba, as a final tribute to Mrs. Kasonde, one last gesture of respect. It’s a walk along dirt paths, uneven with holes and rocks, and up and down several hills. And consider also, that most do not have shoes here. Burials are quite different here than in the United States. There is no funeral home, no embalming, no visitation hours, and no funeral director to handle all the arrangements. You don’t sign a book, there is no prayer card, and most often there is not a tombstone or even a grave marker (a privilege reserved for the very wealthy here). In their place we find great love, tremendous respect, gratitude to God for the life of the one now gone home, and praise and thanksgiving for the glories of heaven that await. And there is never one minister; there are always several, offering prayers and scripture readings. It is an experience that reaches deep within your heart, and you have never been more sure of the presence of God.

Once the truck was filled with mourners, we proceeded to the morgue of Ndola Central Hospital. It is a slow drive, with flashers going constantly, and officers at police check points motion for you to proceed without hesitation. As Godwin, chairman of George informed us “No, they cannot stop you.” This too is a matter of respect. At the hospital, most of the mourners exited the truck and remained at the front entrance to the hospital, joining others who were there for the same reason. Four women entered the hospital gates with us, a minister and the chairman. We drove to the rear of the hospital, following the signs for the morgue, where the women would identify and prepare the body for burial. We were sixth in line. Many more followed. The women entered the morgue carrying a small suitcase which contains rubber gloves (which they all wear throughout the process), soap and towel to wash and dry the body, powder which they sprinkle on the deceased once clean, and the best chitenge they can find for burial. After nearly an hour, Mrs. Kasonde was placed in the coffin – a tiny narrow wooden box, and carried to the truck for the long drive to the cemetery. The mourners climbed back into the truck, and flashers on, we joined in the long procession to Kantolomba. It was a procession of many, many different families with coffins in the back of trucks and cars, and even some small buses.

The drive to the cemetery is the same for everyone. Part of the way is on paved highway, full of deep holes, and bumps; followed by a dirt road – very rough with rocky protrusions and deep holes to constantly dodge. But the drive is inspirational. It is comforting. Almost everyone on the truck is singing. Some are crying, but most are singing. They are singing about God’s mercy. They are singing praises. They are thanking God for being our refuge. It is so very beautiful; strong and proud voices, harmonizing beyond belief, oftentimes the group echoing a leader. As we near the final road to the cemetery, the heart-wrenching wailing begins, as the finality becomes so very near and too real. Today the narrow dirt trail to the graveside is overflowing with crowds of mourners, and vehicles unable to move any further down the path. There is nothing to do but wait. And now we can hear the singing from many trucks, and see the crowded gravesides, so many gathered amongst the mounds of dirt which are the graves. It is unbelievable as we slowly continue down this dusty path to see the thousands and thousands of graves – so very close together and most marked only with the branch from a tree.

Once we are able to pull off the road, we begin the long walk to the grave. There are too many burials in the same area today, so the service is held in tiny clearing, and mourners crouch on ridges of dirt, in what once was probably a field of maize. There is much singing, the choir using hand motions and stepping to and fro in rhythm with the music. There are many prayers – strong voices calling out to God – thanking Him for His mercy and grace and for giving us His son, Jesus Christ who died for all of mankind. There were many scripture readings, but the main focus was Revelation 20:11-15. And the minister concluded by asking the profound question “Will your name be found in the book of life?” Then it was time to pass by the deceased for the last time. The top portion of the coffin was opened, revealing only the face of Mrs. Kasonde, and mourners passed by, first the men and then the women. During this time the choir was singing about the day we will be with Jesus, and sing with Jesus for all eternity. Many made the sign of the cross as they passed by, all heads were bowed and eyes lowered in reverence. Several of the daughters were near collapse and were literally carried past the coffin, as their grief consumed them totally. Their wailing, their cries for their lost mother, their pain was pure and honest, and beyond anything I have ever witnessed.

The procession to the gravesite followed. The gravesite is small, only large enough for the burial, with a narrow foot path between each grave. The cost we are told is 5,000 kwacha – the equivalent of approximately $1.50. As each mourner passed by the coffin they climbed the small hill to the grave, where the men were still busy with their picks and shovels; strong arms chipping away at the hard earth. They measured the coffin using a long piece of bamboo and would periodically drop it into the grave to calculate how much more they must dig. Six men carried the coffin on their shoulders to the grave, escorted by the choir as they sang “Welcome home to Jesus.” We looked on as the brother of the deceased climbed to the top of earth mounded next to the grave and crumbled the large clumps of dirt, hard as stone, into free flowing, smooth soil.

As we waited for the grave diggers to finish, the choir continued singing, and I was suddenly struck with the beauty of this day, the beauty of this service and our surroundings. The choir, wearing long green and yellow robes, standing tall, voices strong and filled with the Holy Spirit – the rolling hills of Kantolomba behind them, the coffin in front, the sun shining brightly, and the sound of the pick axes striking the hard clay ground, and the heart wrenching wailing. It reaches deep into your soul, and your spirit knows things it never could have known before.

The ministers continued with more prayers and songs, and then the coffin was placed into the ground. Two men stood inside the grave at opposite ends, carefully lowering the coffin deep into the ground. It was mostly young, strong men who then quickly covered the coffin with the dirt they had just dug out, and mounded it to a height of about two feet. A few of the ladies came forward and knelt beside the grave, carefully removing any remaining large clumps of dirt and any stray twigs or roots. They raised their arms towards the heavens as they joined the choir singing, ending quietly with “Amen.” Names were then read from a list held by the brother, Joseph. As each family member’s name was called, they stepped forward to receive a flower or a small wreath. Each knelt beside the grave and lovingly placed their last remembrance on the top of the mounded earth. Somewhere in the middle, after husband, children and grandchildren, Joseph called for me to step forward as the representative for OMNI. Placing a flower on the grave of the deceased is a privilege usually reserved for family members and church elders. Nonetheless, I was given a single, perfect, pink rose to place on Mrs. Kasonde’s grave. It was an honor I did not take lightly. I knelt close to the grave and carefully placed the stem of the rose in the dry soil alongside the others. At the conclusion of the service Joseph spoke of OMNI, first in Bemba, and then in English so we could know. He thanked us for taking the time to assist their family with their needs at this most sorrowful time. He thanked us for truly caring about them. He thanked us for caring for the children of Zambia and all of those in need here. And his final statement which concluded the service was “May God bless OMNI richly in their efforts, may God bless those who work with OMNI and give of themselves, may God bless the OMNI Children’s Village and all of the children there, and may OMNI continue to grow and succeed according to God’s will.” Once again we were in awe, and we were greatly humbled. We are so grateful to God, grateful that He has opened our eyes and our hearts, and so very grateful for bringing us to this community we have come to know and love.

“He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways.” Psalm 91:11

2008-07-21T02:21:00.000-07:00

Saturday, 19 July 2008
Today was a day for cleaning. Much of the day was spent picking up pieces of broken cement and bricks, and papers and wrappers from the yard. The goal is, of course to have a neat, clean yard, but also to have a clear pathway for the women who cook lunch for the children. They bring huge pots of food from the backyard cooking hut into the kitchen to fill the plates for the children. So, we collected wheelbarrows and buckets full of stones which we deposited as fill around the septic pit, and all the papers went into the trash pit which is then burned. I think Monday I will introduce the concept of a waste basket to the school children, and encourage them not to throw their papers on the ground. Trash receptacles are not something which is common here, and are virtually unheard of here in the bush. It was also wash day. We don’t have a clothes line, there are no towel rods or hooks in the house, so Ron fashioned a makeshift line by tying a piece of rope to one of the bars on the kitchen window, wrapping it around the support post on the back verandah, and then he backed the truck up to the correct position and made the final tie there. At the end of the day, all was well, although we were very tired. A peaceful evening. We had just finished supper when the power went off – and it was pitch black. The sun sets just after six, and when it’s gone, it’s really dark. We got out the lantern and flashlights and I decided to call my sister. I went out on the back verandah to try to get better reception when I spotted them. It was a small army of ants coming up the side of the porch and marching straight for the back door. I called to Ron and we got the only bug spray we have – permethrin which is for our clothing – and it did not stop them. Now they were coming in hordes. While Ron continually swept them off the back porch, I went with my flashlight to find the guards. I told Pedro, whose English is fairly good, that we were being invaded by ants. His reply was “Oh no, what will you do?” It was not the response I had hoped for. I said I was hoping he had an idea. Regrettably, he said he did not.

I returned to the house with the bad news. We stuffed a towel under the door, and soaked it with the permethrin, hoping it would at least deter them. We were stepping on the ones that had made their way into the house and we were just figuring out who would stand guard at the door first when we saw two lights approaching. It was the flashlights of our guards, Pedro and England. I went back outside to see what was to be done. When I shone my light on the back verandah it was like a horror movie. There were thousands and thousands and thousand of ants everywhere. There were areas where they were so thick they looked like a black rug, moving closer and closer to the back door. They were on the ground along the sides of the porch, they were on the porch, and they were even on the back wall. Pedro and England did not speak a word to each other, but went straight to work. As they began, Pedro said, “You may go inside madam, we will take care of this, do not worry.” Pedro quickly swept the ants off the walls and cement porch, as England poured a line of paint thinner around the base of the porch. They had brought large bundles of dried elephant grass. England lit the ends of the grass as Pedro shone his light for him to see. England then torched the thinner, burning the ants out, and sticking the burning grass into any hole he saw them emerging from, letting the grass burn so close to his hand I was afraid he would be burned. This process of burning continued for about forty-five minutes, as we watched from inside the house. There were small and sometimes large bursts of fire, burning the ants all along the perimeter of the verandah until they were confident all the ants were extinguished. Pedro informed me that these are known as fire ants, and “Yes, of course madam, they bite”. With a huge smile, he said “Now you may rest well”, and they returned to their post at the front gate.

We know that God keeps His promises, and we know that He has indeed given His angels charge over us. We know that angels are the forces God constantly provides to take care of us. However, we don’t usually see them or recognized them, but we did tonight. Tonight, those angels were named Pedro and England. Thank you Lord for sending Your angels, and for opening our eyes to recognize them.

“Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name…”John 17:11

2008-07-18T09:25:00.002-07:00

Thursday, 17 July 2008
How to track a snake.
We are constantly learning, continually amazed, and always in a state of awe. This afternoon there was some commotion just near the front verandah of the house. I heard children yelling and shrieking. As I ran to see what had happened, the children were beginning to quiet some, as their teacher, Teddy was already at their side. The children were in a large circle, with lots of frenzied chatter amongst themselves. Teddy explained they had seen a snake. The children are well educated in how to deal with snakes. And in case there is any doubt in your mind, the snakes here are large and all poisonous. The children saw the snake enter its hole in the ground, so one of the boys began breaking away the hard ground with a hoe, just below the surface, following the path of the snake’s hole. Teddy took a long piece of bamboo and very carefully probed the hole, reaching further and further into the hole with the stick, until only a small potion remained outside the hole. As he pulled the bamboo from the hole, his eyes said too much, and then we heard that long Zambian “OooooooOOOH”, with the intense inflection at the end. It’s something like Uh-oh, only much more serious. When I asked the meaning, he explained he was looking for the end of the hole, but none was found. This was serious. So, the careful digging and probing continued as I watched in fearful trepidation with the smaller children huddled close to me, tiny hands holding on to me – all of us hoping they would find the snake, and yet fearing the moment it would emerge from the hole. And so the boys took turns digging, continuing along the long path, still probing, and still no end to the hole. After about 30 minutes they stopped digging and several of the boys remained to watch the hole – hoe in hand, ready to strike when the snake appeared. I went back into the house (to continue scraping paint from the glass window panes), and the children not in school returned to their play time outside. Ron remained with the boys, keeping a watchful eye on the hole. They did see the snake peek out of the hole, just long enough to spot them and quickly retreat back into the depths of its home. It wasn’t long until we heard screams again. This time as I went out I saw a large group of children near the termite mound (a favorite resting place for the snakes) yelling and throwing rocks and sticks. And there it was. Teddy said it was a garden snake, about two meters long, mortally wounded by a rock, but still moving a little. Unfortunately, this was not the snake spotted earlier. They saw this one coming from the opposite direction. The vigil continued at the site of the hole, and so did the digging and probing. Much to my dismay, the snake did not appear. That hole is a little too close for comfort. Further discussion with Teddy revealed that this type of snake is indeed poisonous but will not climb walls. I was afraid it would come in the window where a pane of glass is missing. But it will slither in through any open doors or cracks large enough for them to fit through. The good news is they really don’t like people. The bad news is they are plentiful. Did I mention yet that we have seen too many snakes – dead, alive, and skins only? Godwin, the chairman of George was very reassuring. He said that these garden snakes or house snakes (I think that tells it all!) really don’t come in the house often, and if they do you just beat them with a stick. It’s the black mambas that like to come inside. Now that’s comforting! I think I’ll say an extra prayer and take a sleeping pill tonight, or maybe I’ll just lie awake all night shining my flashlight on the rafters over my bed. I haven't quite decided yet.

"This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24

2008-07-16T17:29:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, 15 July 2008
We awoke to a very, very cold and frosty morning, and as usual - no electricity. This meant grabbing the flashlight (or torch as its known here), washing in freezing cold water, and then the trip to the dreaded outdoor privy. We had a bowl of corn flakes and continued with our usual morning chores of pumping water and filling the containers we have in the house, wiping the dust from the tables and chairs (we have learned that Zambia has one more season - the dusty season, and this is it), making the beds, and getting ourselves straightened out before the children come in to prepare for school.

As I was busy inside, I looked out the window to see Ron at the pump, several of the children by his side, and all of them taking turns pumping the water. The children were there to water the school garden they care for. I looked onto the front verandah and saw two of the younger boys, Joshua and Asho, quietly playing a game with bottle caps and a piece of cardboard marked off like a checker board. When they saw me watching them, they greeted me with "Good morning madam. How are you this morning?" And then I looked out the back window and saw two of the older boys hard at work with picks and hoes, digging and turning the ground over to expand the garden. I could see children coming along side the fence, smiling and eager to come to school. I ventured out to the pump to eavesdrop on Ron and the girls. They were trying to talk to each other, some English, some Bemba - which resulted in little communication, but much laughter and giggling, and an understanding of one another that only love can bring.

John, one of the older boys, but small in stature, carried two large containers of water back to the house for us. I could see it was a bit of a struggle for him; his arms stretched long at his sides and muscles tense, but he was so proud and happy to do this for us. As I took all of this in, my heart filled to overflowing. I was so very grateful to begin my day in this way. Who could ask for more than to look out their window and see the faces of smiling children everywhere. And once again I looked on in awe and admiration of these children, who also slept in the freezing temperatures - but many without a blanket, who never have electricity in their homes, and the only toilet they have ever known is a simple hole in the ground. The Lord has blessed us abundantly. I thanked God, as I knew there could be no better way to begin this day.

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat…” Matthew 26:35

2008-07-15T12:43:00.000-07:00

Friday 11 July 2008
Bread for the Children.
Today Foster and I purchased the regular food supply for the school children. We made a trip to Masala Market. It’s a distance from here, but worth the trip when you consider the prices and the quality of food. Masala Market is a traditional Zambian Market, with roadside type booths constructed of scrap pieces of timbers and roofed with scavenged cardboard boxes which have been flattened and small pieces of discarded plastic. You can buy almost anything at Masala Market from clothing to food to house ware items. I think you can even get a haircut there. But our concentration today was food. We drove down the narrow dirt path, riddled with pot holes and ruts of all sizes, and were warmly greeted by our usual vendors. Foster has researched and discovered the most reliable vendors with the best prices and quality. There are enough beans at the school, so today’s purchases included kapenta (tiny whole fish), tomatoes, onions, and salt. As we returned to town we stopped to purchase small chickens, of which there were none, so we opted for buka fish. They are larger, meatier fish that are cut in half (the head being one half and the tail the other) and cooked in oil. We also purchased mealie meal which is ground maize used to make the staple food called nshima – something like stiff grits. We finished our purchases with soya nuggets, cooking oil, and dish soap. We had what amounted to about $5 left in our budget and were trying to decide if there was anything else we should or could buy for 140 children with only $5. Then Foster remembered the donation of a dear sweet lady from Prince of Peace Church in Ohio. During Foster’s recent visit there she had given him a bit of money and asked that he do something special for the children. After a brief discussion we decided on bread and butter. Not something we in the U.S. would normally consider a treat. We purchased loaves of freshly baked bread and lots of creamy butter and headed for the school. The children had just finished their lunch and were outside at the pump washing. Their excitement was apparent as we began unloading the loaves of bread from the car. With very little prompting from one of our teachers, Teddy, the children quickly formed lines according to age in front of the building. They waited patiently as the other teachers, Godfridah and Violet, and I sliced and buttered the bread. I could see the children through the window and watched as they alternately cheered and clapped, jumped up and down, and laughed and giggled in joyous anticipation. We covered a large plastic tub with a piece of plastic from the bread bags and stacked the thick slices of bread inside it, as high as we could. Each child passed through, from youngest to oldest, and received their thick slice of bread with lots of creamy butter in the usual manner here – both hands outstretched and a tiny polite curtsey of thanksgiving. And each and every child was wearing a huge smile. I watched as each child savored every morsel – some licking a little of the butter off first, enjoying the creamy texture and rich flavor. It was heartbreaking to realize that something I don’t give a second thought to could bring such joy to these amazing children. Bread and butter – what a treasured gift.

Jehovah Jire

2008-07-10T21:55:00.000-07:00

10 July 2008
As we were making the long trek from Lusaka to Ndola yesterday, we were following a small bus with the words “Jehovah Jire” painted on the rear panels. I asked Foster the meaning and his reply was The Lord Will Provide, the name of God first found in Genesis (chapter 22) when, in faith and obedience to God, Abraham was about to sacrifice his son Isaac, but the Lord provided a sacrificial ram instead. When I remarked that I had just read that very passage while on the airplane, Foster, in his wisdom of few words said, “It is God speaking to you. He will provide for you.” And indeed, the Lord has already provided. He has provided the means for us to be in Zambia, He has provided a wonderful friend and mentor in Foster, He has provided the prayer support of so many, and the blessing of His children in our lives. God has revealed Himself to us through all of this, and we have experienced His love and mercy through His provision.
Today, our first day in Zambia, we of course visited the building site and our children. Teddy, our friend and one of the teachers was first out of the house to welcome us with the traditional Zambian handshake and a warm hug. He quickly ushered us inside the house where all classes are now meeting, and the children were anxiously waiting our arrival. There is nothing quite like being welcomed by a child. Their huge smiles, greeting us in unison, many calling us by name, and then of course with their welcoming songs and clapping. And we were reminded once again why we are here. To love His children.
We also visited baby Peter today and delivered food for him and his family. Peter is the child who lives at Baluba and was brought to the OMNI mobile medical clinic in May, where he and his mother both tested positive for HIV/Aids. And this is where the tears began in earnest. I saw a young woman, with a tiny baby held tightly in her arms, much older than he appears. As we approached, Sharon, the mother, smiled and greeted us in the traditional Zambian manner – an extended handshake and a tiny curtsey. But for baby Peter there was no smile. His beautiful big brown eyes, wide and desperate, had a pleading, haunting look. And he looked straight into my eyes, and his tiny hand reached out for me. As I held that sweet little hand in mine I prayed. I prayed for this child Peter and his family, I envisioned our Father’s loving arms embracing him, and I thanked God for the blessing of this tiny life. I looked at their surroundings – their home – a barren looking place, a small mud brick structure, only two blankets with large holes lying in the dust propped against a few weeds to dry – not even a string for a clothes line. And I looked at their clothes – torn and tattered, worn and dusty. And I looked at Peter’s older sister, Gift – petite and beautiful, but no smile, no trace of happiness, and I wondered what will become of her in the days to come. Tonight, the tears continue, as we cry out to God... “The Lord Will Provide.”

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."Jeremiah 29:11

2007-10-03T13:06:00.000-07:00

And so we arrived back safely in the USA on Monday afternoon, greeted by friends and family with welcome home banners, lots of warm hugs and a few tears. We never knew three months could pass so quickly, or that home could seem so strange. As we began planning and praying for this journey so many months ago, we had no idea what the Lord had in store for us. We knew there would be challenges and struggles and heart breaking moments. But we could not have known the impact these moments would have on our lives. Moments like comforting our well-digger whose four month old son died, or learning that so many of the people in George survive on only one meal a day – many of the parents sacrificing their meal for their children, or watching the caravans of mourners making their daily trips to the cemetery on the hillside beyond town, their rich beautiful voices singing of their loved one’s final walk to meet their Savior. Yet God’s grace reached far beyond the stars and the moon and straight to the heavens, blessing us daily, in ways we never could have imagined. There were small, everyday, ordinary occurrences which touched our hearts so very deeply; magical moments we will treasure in our hearts always. Things like watching a child of about 3 years, belly bloated and tight with worms, unwashed and barefoot, and dressed in what we would call rags; yet his whole face smiling, jumping up and down in sheer delight, simply because we stooped down to greet him in Bemba and shake his tiny little hand. Or things like driving into George, and dozens of children in the village running to greet us, waving and laughing and calling out to us. Or walking through the village and suddenly feeling a tiny little hand slip into mine and holding tight; looking down and seeing the sweet smiling face of Jesus through this precious child. And there were extraordinary moments as well; like visiting Floreen in the deep bush of Mpongwe, and seeing this woman who one year ago had been suffering so terribly and unable to walk from her severe burns, running to greet us, and throwing her arms around me, pressing her cheek close to mine, and holding me so tightly I could scarcely catch my breath. And so we learned to accept each day as it came; as we rejoiced with those who rejoiced, and wept with those who wept (Romans 12:15). Each and every day was remarkable – beyond anything we could ever have imagined, and beyond anything we will ever truly be able to explain. It’s amazing what happens when ordinary people come together in prayer and thanksgiving, when we all share our gifts and work together – when we truly “Serve one another in love” (Galatians 5:13). We are so very thankful for all your prayers, and for sharing your gifts in love. Thank you for giving us this opportunity to share your gifts, and to love the people of Zambia – to love them in Christ. We are grateful for the blanket of prayers you have continued to cover us in, for all your encouraging words, and for your financial and emotional support. Thank you, one and all, for this wonderful gift you have given us. Thank you for accompanying us every step of the way, we could not have made this journey without you. God willing, with your continuing prayers and support, we will return to Zambia very soon. We need to go back, to return to Zambia and the children who have stolen our hearts so completely. They need us… and we need them. We learned many lessons during our time in Zambia…lessons in Christian hope, humility, respect, courage and strength. We learned that the power of God’s love knows no boundaries – not age or distance or poverty or circumstance. And we were loved – without question or reserve – the greatest blessing anyone could ever receive. We left Zambia with our hearts overflowing. We will miss our days there. We will miss the people of Zambia. If we could have, we would have simply forgotten to board the plane on Sunday, and stayed forever. But we know that somehow, this too is part of God’s most perfect plan.

“I urge you, first of all, to pray for all people. Ask God to help them, intercede on their behalf, and give thanks for them.” 1Timothy 2:1

2007-09-29T06:39:00.000-07:00

Thursday was by far, one of the most fun days spent in Zambia. We wanted to do something very, very special for our children at George School - an unexpected treat. So, after a little thought, we decided on ice cream. To make it even more fun and exciting, we went in search of an ice cream man. We had seen them in town, here and there, on their bicycles, riding around with a freezer full of treats, ringing a little bell. Ron spotted one of the men the other day, and with Philemon as interpreter, found out where to inquire. N’ice ice cream is past the saw mill, near the bus depot, down an alley, and behind some other shops. We have discovered there is a whole other world behind the shop fronts. If you drive down the allies, where there is no apparent road, you can find anything from water pumps and cassette tapes to ice cream. When Ron arrived at N’ice the workers told him to just go ‘round back and look for the other muzungu (white man). Ron explained to Greg, the owner of N’ice about OMNI and our children at George School, and our desire to bring this special treat to them. He agreed that we could pick up one of his men, complete with bicycle, bell and freezer and drive them out to George to distribute ice cream. He said if we bought the first hundred cups of ice cream, he would supply the second hundred. We let the teachers know there was a surprise for Thursday, and to ask all the children to please be at the school. We stopped just short of the school gate, unloaded everything, and our ice cream man drove the bicycle into the school yard, ringing the bell, stopping at the side of the school next to the classrooms. Of course the children had heard the truck approaching and were already running to greet us when they spotted the surprise, but most didn’t know what it was. The teachers knew, and had all the children form lines, from youngest to oldest. Then they asked a question. “How many have had ice cream before?” Out of one hundred thirty children, only five raised their hands. The big cooler opened, and from youngest to oldest, each child received a cup of strawberry ice cream complete with a small wooden scoop to eat with. As each child came forward, Ron or I handed them the wooden scoop, and they would take a cup of ice cream, each one in turn, and each one curtseying in appreciation. And it was a good day for ice cream. The temperature on Thursday was 105 degrees! I’m not sure who was more excited, Ron or the kids! Once they tasted the ice cream, there was a lot of chatter, and laughing and giggling and even some cheering, as they licked the inside of the cups clean. The bonus was that each child now also has a plastic cup, with a lid, to take home and use. As you can see from the photo we were mobbed by the children, and we loved it.

And so our last week here was busy and bittersweet, trying to make the most of our precious last few days here, knowing we have to leave all too soon. We are so very thankful for the many and tremendous blessings we have received while here. Leaving here is definitely the most difficult part of this journey. Yesterday, casting Violet and Peter for the last time, and saying farewell to dear Friedah, an angel on earth who cares for her community at Kasongo so selflessly. The most difficult was leaving all our children for the last time at George School, seeing all those smiling faces for one last time. And then the tearful good byes to our teachers, Godfridah and Ms. Masumba. And today, our final good-byes to the workers at the project site – Philemon, Godwin, Vincent, Thomas – all the men we have grown so close to. One of the men, Peter, even brought his wife and three week old baby girl, Sharon, to meet us. We will miss them all so very much. Frank, one of our brick layers just kept shaking my hand and expressing his thanks for our time here with all of them, and saying he will keep us in his prayers and ask God to bless us in all we do, wherever we are. But what really touched my heart the most was when he said “You can’t leave us. You belong here with us, sharing your love and the ways God has blessed you. You have become like the mother of the village, and a mother cannot leave her children.” How do we leave our children and this community? While we may be leaving for now, our hearts will remain here…always.

“…blessed are your eyes, because they see; and your ears, because they hear.” Matthew 13:16

2007-09-23T10:17:00.000-07:00

Today, our last Sunday service in Zambia, we decided to meet with the congregation of the United Church of Zambia at George Compound. As we began driving into George, we picked up two women; one expecting who had a wash tub full of vegetables tied to her back with a chitenge, and the other with a baby dangling from her back in a chitenge. There were two children with them; a girl of about 12 years and a boy of about 8 years. As we drove down the crater filled, dusty path, the two women chatted in Bemba, and the three children we busy staring at Ron and I. The two older children were silent, but smiling the whole while, but the baby look at us intently, then asked his mother a series of questions, and then just stared and stared at the white faces. When we were at the entrance to the church road, we asked if they wanted to get out and the woman with the baby said “No! Church! Church of Zambia!” And we told her that was the same church we were looking for, which made her very happy. So we drove down the next dirt path until she said “Next church” and we drove in and parked in a little bit of shade next to a mud block building with a rusted tin roof with bits of plastic and dried grass covering the holes. We all got out of the car, and the pregnant woman tied the big metal tub of vegetables on her back again, and with a warm smile shook my hand, saying “Natotella” (I thank you). I asked when her baby was due and if she would have it at home or at the clinic. She replied “one month” and “home.” After one more hand shake, she was off into the village. The other woman, who I later learned was Miriam, was so very lovely. She entered the church, with the baby feeding at her breast, and her two older children still smiling and staring at Ron and me. No one was in the church except for the secretary who greeted us, and welcomed us to worship with them. She was busy wiping off the layer of dust which collects on the benches. Next, the minister arrived, who I recognized from the last funeral, and also from the community committee which helps to govern George. Slowly, people came in, the men taking their seats on the left side of the church, and the women and children on the right side. Ron and I sat together on the men’s side – close to the aisle. One of the men is a laborer from the project site, and he was very excited to see us in his church. In all, about fifteen people came inside before the service began. The main choir was about five in size, and the women’s choir numbered three. Miriam led the women’s choir in song – her voice so beautiful, and you could see and hear the joy of the Lord radiating from her. The number didn’t matter; their voices were strong and inspiring. The main choir soon brought in two drums as accompaniment and then the dancing began. It’s slow, rocking back and forth a little, with hand motions in front, reminiscent of a train. The main choir and women’s choir alternated with songs, and as they did, it was like the call from the Lord was heard, and the church slowly filled, as each entered to join in the celebration, many taking their place with the choirs. The entire service was in Bemba, with only a very few words of English spoken. But we understood so much, just from the joy and reverence of the congregation. We knew when the three claps resounded in the church, that we were beginning in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. After some time, the service came to a brief halt, as the minister came to Ron and me, and whispered “Please stand – we all want to greet you.” And so we stood, and received our welcoming claps, also in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Today’s reading was from Matthew, chapter13 verses 1-23 – the parable of the farmer scattering the seed. Before the minister began today’s sermon, he said he had a short message for today’s visitors. “While you may not fully understand the local language in which most of today’s message will be given, you remain in the House of God, covered by the umbrella of His grace and love.” What a lovely reminder that we were welcome, and that even the boundaries of language cannot separate us from the Holy Spirit. True to his word, most of the message was in Bemba, but the message we did hear was: “Your voice is important when talking to any person. The seed of God’s Word has been planted in all of us, what will your harvest be?” And while we didn’t understand the words of much of today’s service, it was clear when we were on our knees, that we were asking for forgiveness, and when the beat of the drum was lively and the dancing was moving, we were celebrating in the joy of the Lord. There was also a welcoming for one of the women into the church lady’s group. The group wears a white headdress, a black skirt, and a red top with a white collar. The newcomer explained to the congregation the meaning of each piece of clothing, which we were unable to understand, until she came to the big pockets on her top – one is to carry your Bible with you, and the other for pocket change. When the service had ended, the minister led the congregation outside, where each shook hands and then joined in a huge circle, ending with the main choir. As the song was finishing, once again the minister stepped over and whispered in my ear “Will you do us the honor of imparting the final prayer and blessing.” What a privilege and honor. We feel so much a part of this community, and love and treasure our time here – this was truly an unexpected blessing that I will treasure in my heart always. Afterward, I spoke with the minister and learned his name is Christopher Kabwe and that five of our children from George OMNI School are in his home. I can’t wait for that home visit! He asked for us to please come back and continue worshiping with them, and we told him that unfortunately this was our last Sunday of worship here in Zambia. Pastor Kabwe replied “This is where God has placed you. You will return.”

“Praise the Lord, everything he has created, everything in all his kingdom. Let all that I am praise the Lord.” Psalm 103:22

2007-09-22T12:06:00.000-07:00

Today it was decided by the three of us, Foster, myself, and Ron, that we would do something a little different. We decided on the Chimfunshi Wildlife Orphanage Trust – a place which cares for orphaned chimpanzees. It all began in 1983 when a local game ranger brought a severely injured and dying chimpanzee to Sheila Siddle’s door. Knowing her natural affinity for animals, and her huge heart, he asked if she could care for this poor orphaned chimp which had been taken from poachers. The rest of his family had been killed for meat, and this baby chimp was left with a huge gash on his face, exposing broken teeth, he had terrible infections from his wounds, and was terribly malnourished. This was the humble beginnings of this amazing refuge for orphaned wildlife. Chimfunshi is located in the bush, about forty miles west of Chingola, along the Kafue River, near the Congo border. As we turned off the main highway, following the sign pointing to Chimfunshi, which means place of water in Bemba, we immediately noticed the incredible vegetation along this single lane dirt path. The colors were rich and vibrant; trees with bright red leaves that looked like displaced ferns, and a forest thick with beautiful pines, and trees with interlocking branches of beautiful bright green leaves, and small greenery covering much of the ground,. We crossed tiny bridges over streams full of flowering water lilies, and a huge flat grassland that looked like velvet. Unfortunately, the road was quite rough, with most of the 21 km dirt path into the refuge resembling an old fashioned wash board. When we finally arrived at our destination we noticed monkeys walking along the ridges of the building rooftops, and a hippo comfortably soaking in the cool water of a fish pond, but no chimpanzees. Then a woman appeared carrying a one-year old chimpanzee wearing a diaper. He was introduced to us as Dominic, and clung to the woman as though she were his mother. He was just like a child – naughty and cute! As we were ushered around the chimpanzee housing, Dominic would hang from the tree and then the fence, and then climb to almost the top of a small tree and shake it as hard as he could. He would laugh when tickled, and was eager to play. He began howling when the older chimpanzees were fed before him, and just as a spoiled child, he was given a piece of fruit to quiet him. This is when Ron began asking him for a bite of the fruit. Dominic almost complied, but then thought better of it, shoving the last of the mango into his own mouth. By the end of our visit, Dominic would come alongside us and take hold of our hands and was also hanging from my legs just being playful. And he is strong! What a forceful little grip! There are nearly fifty chimps taking refuge here, most for many years now. Most of them roam large fenced areas, only returning to the buildings when it is time to eat. We were lucky since it was feeding time; everyone had surfaced to get their allotment of fruit, vegetables and a bottle of milk. Each one has their own distinct personality, and likes and dislikes. As we walked past, one of the males threw his cabbage at us, apparently not liking us or the cabbage!

The hippopotamus that lives here is named Billy. She is about fifteen years old, and came from the Kafue River near Kitwe. Billy’s mother was killed by hunters who were unable to retrieve the body because a bull hippo would not let them near. Billy, only about ten days old was eventually discovered hiding under the mother’s body. Lucky for Billy, she was brought to Sheila’s farm where she has been ever since. She, like all the infant animals, are initially cared for in Sheila’s home. Billy would wander into the house through the kitchen, head straight for the living room and stretch out on the sofa and watch television! This only stopped when she got so big, the couch finally collapsed. There are now heavy steel bars across the entrance to the kitchen, preventing Billy from just wandering into the house. Billy will occasionally make the trip back to the Kafue River meeting with other hippos, but she always returns home. She also frequents the velvety grassland, and has free range of the property.

Finally we saw some wildlife other than chickens and goats! What a wonderful way to spend the day – interacting with a playful chimpanzee and talking with this wonderful woman and her daughter who have dedicated their lives to these orphaned animals.

“Since we entered the world penniless and will leave it penniless, if we have bread on the table and shoes on our feet, that’s enough.” 1Tim 6:7-8

2007-09-18T11:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I continued home visits with the children from George OMNI School. We set off around 9am, an entourage of children laughing and running along side myself and the two school teachers, Ms. Masumba and Godfridah. When our day ended around 5:30pm, we had visited twenty-six homes, and I’m sure we had walked many miles. I can’t even begin to describe what I saw in just this one day – children without parents, cared for by a widowed aging grandmother or living with an aunt who cares for four children in addition to her own six – people without any regular income, barely existing on the little bit of money they earn from making baskets or selling tomatoes – and children living with their grandmother because both parents have tested positive for HIV/Aids. But I didn’t hear many complaints about their situation. Instead what I heard were words of appreciation and gratitude, or as Ms. Masumba said so many times yesterday, “They are just giving thanks.” They are grateful most of all for the education the children are receiving, the books, the uniforms, and the hot meal every day. What I also see at George are children that are loved and cared for without reserve. It makes no difference if the parents are unable to care for their children or if the children are orphaned, they are brought into the homes of relatives and cared for – without question. It is sometimes difficult to establish the relationships within each home, because there may be so many from so many different homes, and it doesn’t matter to them if they are a niece or a daughter – they are family and they are loved. And they are cared for the best way possible. One other thing that is nearly impossible to establish is the true age of each child. Time has a whole different meaning here, and most people do not know their birth date, or care when they were born. Most know the year of birth, so no matter the month or the date, if you were born in the year 2000 you are now seven years old. And even that doesn’t really matter. The teachers challenged some as to the year of birth, deciding the child was either younger or older. It’s just not important.

The family in the photograph is no different – they love each other and all care for each other the best they can. The grandmother extended her hand in warm welcome, and had the children find seats for myself and the teachers. One was a metal chair with no back and the legs wired to the seat, one was a small bench fashioned from a rough looking log nailed to two uneven wooden legs, and the other was an empty 10 liter plastic jug which had once contained oil with a grain sack draped over the top. The grandmother was seated on the ground in front of us, legs stretched out straight in front of her. I couldn’t help but notice her shoes. They were old “Keds” slip on tennis shoes, worn and tattered, long strings hanging from the sides. But what I noticed most was that the soles of the shoes were almost totally worn away – all that remained was a tiny portion of the heel on each shoe. And then we began talking. John Mwamba is 16 years old, in grade 4, likes reading and going through books and wants to be a teacher when he finishes school. John’s parents are living, but unable to care for him and they do not live at George. Kegan Kalipa (Mabel’s brother and cousin to the other children) is 13 years old, in grade 4, enjoys playing soccer and would also like to be a teacher one day. Mabel Kalipa (Kegan’s sister and cousin to the other children) is 11 years old, in grade 2, hopes to be a teacher one day, and when she’s not in school she enjoys doing housework. Kegan and Mabel’s mother is deceased, and their father is unable to care for them and does not live at George. Gift Kasongo (cousin to the other children) is 7 years old, in grade 1, wants to be a soldier when he grows up, and likes playing soccer. Gift’s mother and father are divorced, unable to care for him, and they don’t live at George. Mary Mulenga (John’s half-sister and cousin to the other children) is 10 years old, in grade 2, wants to be a teacher and likes playing netball. Mary’s mother is living but unable to care for her, and her father is deceased. On Sundays the children attend the Roman Catholic Church at George, while the grandmother attends the United Church of Zambia. The grandmother makes a little bit of money reselling vegetables she buys at the market in Twapia. And she was quick to tell me that all of her grandchildren help her around the house and any way they can. When I asked if they have regular meals, the answer was they don’t always have food. The only regular meal is the one the children receive at school. Their health is good she said, they only suffer from malaria, worms, and an occasional stomach ache. When I asked if she had any questions for me or any ideas for the school, all she could say was thank you for helping her with her grandchildren. She doesn’t have the money to send them to a school. And she is also appreciating the meal they receive every day, because then she knows they will eat at least once every day.

I can’t say this family was typical, but it was not unusual. Many of the children want to be teachers, nurses, doctors and truck drivers. When asked what they enjoy doing when not in school, the boys mostly enjoy soccer and the girls netball, but many of them name “fetching water” as their favorite pastime. Some like flying kites made from scraps of plastic stretched over twigs with shreds of twine from the grain bags as their ball of string. Every family suffers from malaria, and as one father told me, “Madame, everyone in Africa is sick.” There is no regular source of income except for a very few. Most families eat twice a day, many once, and some whenever they can. Yet, we are always greeted with a smile and a warm, friendly outstretched hand.

“Let them praise His name with dancing; Let them sing praises to Him…” Psalm 149:3

2007-09-16T12:13:00.000-07:00

The United Church of Zambia brings new meaning to worship for the two of us. Before the service began today the youth choir was inside already singing their praises to the Lord, singing “Lord, I am a vessel created for your pleasure. Show me your way. I come to you today, as I lift my hands I pray.” At the same time, the main choir had gathered outside the church, forming a huge circle of prayer, which slowly progressed into song. They entered the church as the youth choir was finishing, dancing in a kind of march step, they lined the aisle as those presiding over the service walked to the front of the church, taking their places at the altar. The choir never missed a beat, as they continued that beautiful rhythmic step and quiet singing until they reached their seats facing the congregation. Then the choirs (there were four today) erupted into song – “Jesus is our life today, tomorrow and forevermore.” John, one of the church elders was seated next to me today, explaining the meaning of the songs and the service. Just as our last visit, we were seated shoulder to shoulder, on benches filled to capacity. They even brought in small benches placed in the aisles for the overflowing crowd. Children sat in front, lining the steps to the altar. And it was hot. It was certainly over 100 degrees in there, but there was John in his wool sports coat and tie, dressed in his best for the Lord. Very soon we were on our knees, singing and praying the confession prayer, followed by a reading from 1Kings 6:11-20 (Solomon builds the Temple). The second choir, a mixture of all ages, sang about God’s Temple, dancing and forming the shelter of the Temple over their heads with their hands. The rich voices of the main choir proclaimed that the Son in you is power with the next song. Then the entire congregation was on their feet, hands reaching toward the heavens, singing “Come back to me, keep me from sinning, God is good. Come to Him and He will save you.” Next the secretary came forward and welcomed everyone in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit – followed by three loud claps from the congregation. Visitors were then announced, asked to rise, and all welcomed with the three claps, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. This was followed by an intercessory prayer, the offering, and of course more singing. After the offering everyone was on their feet singing and dancing, praising the Lord for being chosen by the Almighty to sing for Him – “I was the happiest man when I was called to worship in His Temple – Let us come sing and dance for Him.” The next readings were Acts 12:1-11 (The angel of the Lord leads Peter to escape from prison) and John 6:1-12 (Jesus feeds five thousand with two fish and five loaves of bread). Today’s message was interpreted from Bemba into English by the church secretary. The minister instructed him to speak as he did, and do as he did – if he went crazy, then he should also! The message was about being faithful. Who are the faithful people, and how do they behave? They are obedient to God’s word. Just as Solomon was obedient in following the Lord’s instructions in building the Temple, so should we be. Obedient to the finest detail. We are the Temple of the Lord. He tells us “Build the Temple in my ways and I will come to you and help you.” God is always faithful – in His words and in His works. But mere men, we can look faithful, but are we? We may be in church on Sundays, but who are the faithful Christians? They are those who find joy in the Lord, let others see their joy, and they share their joy. Amen! Then the preacher asked “Where are the drums? Bring in the drums!” And the young men ran and brought the drums to the front of the church. “Let all see the joy of God in us! Let the drums beat, let your feet dance, let your tongue glorify God!” And so the drums began, the beat escalating until the whole of the church was on their feet, dancing and singing with the choir in the most tremendous display of joy and praise. It was incredible to see this minister inspire his congregation to bring out their joy in the Lord. He continued with the sermon, ending with these words: “Now we know the Spirit of God.”

“Plant the good seeds of righteousness, and you will harvest a crop of love.” Hosea 10:12

2007-09-15T06:00:00.000-07:00

As we walk through George, visiting the homes of the school children, Godfridah (one of the teachers) and I speak about many things. We talk about the great need to educate the children so one day they can rise above this poverty. We talk about the children’s lack of interest in bathing, since it’s such a project to bring the water, heat the water, and most likely there is no soap. We talk about how music and dance are such an integral part of the children’s lives that they don’t even think to mention it as something they enjoy – it’s just part of them. But the other day we talked about farming and gardening. Godfridah said much of the land which was once used to raise crops of maize and other vegetables has been sold by the government. Much of the land which the community had “borrowed” for subsistence farming is no longer available. There are some who are fortunate enough to have seeds, and they may have a small garden next to their home, or a few tomatoes planted in plastic jugs. So, the problem has now become that the children are not learning the basic skills of raising vegetables. Godfridah said she has longed for the opportunity to have a garden at the school, where each child could be responsible for a row of vegetables. She wants to teach them how to turn the ground, prepare the soil, plant and care for the seeds, and harvest what they have grown. A bit of knowledge they could use their whole lives. This way, no matter what else happened, if they could find the seeds, she said they would at least have a chance for a harvest, which means they may not have to go hungry. I could scarcely believe the conversation we were having; all part of God’s most perfect plan. It was only the day before that we had received a care package from Ron’s brother Mark and his wife Carol. It was packed full of thoughtful items; nutrition bars, tuna fish, raisins, photos they had printed from the blog for us to distribute, children’s vitamins, antibiotic ointment, and… seeds! What a wonderful opportunity – a harvest of love. The next day I took packages of tomato, watermelon, cauliflower, cabbage, broccoli, cantaloupe and turnip seeds to a very surprised and a very happy teacher. Yesterday, as Ron was on the roof of the guard hut, one of the workers called out to him to see what was coming. It was Godfridah, walking the dirt path to the OMNI site, with a line of children in tow, carrying hoes – ready to begin the day’s lesson. Praying for an abundant harvest!

“The works of the Lord are great…He has made His wonderful works to be remembered.” Psalm 111:2-4

2007-09-13T11:40:00.000-07:00

In this broken world there is One who heals the sick and those afflicted with pain and suffering. Our hearts have been heavy, for over a year now, as we remembered and prayed for the woman we knew only as “the burn lady”. At the clinic at Agape in July 2006, in the deep bush of Mpongwe, a young woman arrived who had been severely burned, from the groin to below the knee, on both legs. Unable to walk at all, she arrived by oxen cart with a wooden frame with a blanket draped over it, which stretched across her legs, protecting her from the elements while not touching her burns. When the blanket was removed we were shocked to see that no skin remained on her legs, and in one area the bone was exposed. The OMNI doctors and nurses worked many hours debreeding and carefully cleaning the burn, which was over one month old. She endured this painful procedure with incredible strength and courage; not a single wimper, not a single tear shed. She was seen by the doctors and nurses several times last year, and given supplies to care for the burn. Today we witnessed how the Lord had answered our prayers. We made the long drive to Mpongwe, nearly two hours, driving the dirt roads and narrow paths we have now become accustomed to, in search of “the burn lady”. Our hearts sank when Foster said, “I only hope we find her.” We drove past many small villages. There would be a tiny trail leading to a small cluster of huts with grass roofs. Finally, Foster said “This is the one” as he turned down a trail lined with burned out grass and trees. We followed the trail until it ended, where we found Floreen Kabati sitting in the small cooking hut. When she heard the car approaching she turned, then came running to the car. Before I could even get out of the car, her arms were wrapped tight around me, and her cheek pressed close next to mine. And of course, the tears flowed freely. Here was the same young woman who had been unable to walk at all last year, running to greet us! As Ron came around from the other side of the car, she hugged him, then returned to hug me. She went back and forth hugging us both for several minutes, then just stood next to us, beaming. Floreen speaks very little English, but those first few minutes no words were spoken, or needed. As we did begin speaking with her, we discovered that she had been in the hospital for seven months, where she eventually received skin grafts on both legs. She had escaped infection and regained full mobility. Floreen explained the burn had occurred at her in-laws, where she was living with her husband and two children. While cooking over the open fire, some of the cooking oil spilled into the fire and ignited the chitenge she was wearing. Underneath the chitenge she was wearing another skirt made of synthetic fabric which literally melted onto her legs. It is her belief that this accident was caused by witchcraft practiced by her in-laws. While she was in the hospital she said her husband never came to see her, and she would not return to live with him at his parent’s home. She is now living with her father and two younger brothers. Her older son, Parod, age 7, lives with his father, but she is able to see him often. Sadly, when she returned from the hospital in April she discovered her baby had died. She was visibly shaken sharing this news with us, so we did not ask any more. She stayed close by our sides the whole while we visited, and would periodically put her arm around my waist or shoulder, giving me a little squeeze.
The last words Floreen spoke, in her soft, sweet voice were “My God will bless you richly.” Indeed, He has. We have never felt more blessed in our lives.

“As he slept, he dreamed of a stairway that reached from the earth up to heaven. And he saw the angels of God going up and down the stairway.”Gen28:12

2007-09-11T23:11:00.000-07:00

Siprain Mulongwe was only 43 years old when he passed away last Friday after suffering a stroke. He leaves behind a widow, many siblings, but no children. He was a brother to the wife of our friend, Godwin. Today we were privileged to assist this family and the community with the funeral of Siprain. Philemon met us on the road into George this morning to guide us back to the funeral home – the house where Siprain’s widow now lives alone. Ron drove the truck deep into the village, winding through the dirt trails, following the path where there seemed to be none, making hairpin turns around small garden plots; until finally we reached a home where eighty or so people were gathered. There was a small bus waiting there already, which had been hired to transport people to the cemetery. We were greeted by an elderly gentlemen we didn’t know, who promptly brushed clean a small sofa next to the now burned out fire. The sofa was constructed of a wooden frame, what was once a lovely deep red upholstery with gold flowers, and about a half inch of foam padding which was now poking through the thread-bare seats. We sat quietly, waiting. There were women in the cooking hut, busy plucking a chicken and preparing vegetables for the widow. The youngest children were slung on the backs of the women in chitenges, and the older children sat on the floor of the hut eating a bit of nshima. A man about forty or so, very slight of frame, came to greet us. His words were humbling, and I don’t think we will ever forget them. He extended his hand, saying “You have come here to us with your humble hearts, serving our people in the way of the Lord. We are grateful, and we thank you.” Shortly after, a small boy of about three years came up to Ron. He spoke in Bemba, so we are unsure of the words, but his tiny brow was furrowed as he pointed to the truck and then to Ron, seemingly reprimanding Ron about something concerning the truck. Ron scooped him up in his arms, they made a survey of the truck, walking around it and peering inside. This seemed to satisfy his anxieties surrounding the truck, and he returned to his mother’s side. After some time, Godwin arrived, saying they had been unable to locate a coffin at Twapia. We would need to stop and purchase a coffin in Kabushi, a village on the way to the cemetery. Mourners piled into the bus and the back of the truck and we headed for Kabushi. As we drove along very slowly, crowded with people standing in the back of the truck and sitting on the side rails, singing of the glory of the Lord all the while, and hazard lights flashing, the police check points were not a problem. Funeral transports are not detained, and we didn’t even need to slow down – we were motioned to proceed as we approached each point. As we neared the cemetery, many of those on the truck emptied out, walking the rest of the way, making room for the coffin yet to be purchased. We stopped at an unlikely looking group of shops, and the empty coffin was quickly loaded into the back of the truck. This is when the heart-wrenching wailing of the women began; the finality of the situation tearing at the hearts of the sisters of Siprain. We returned to town to the mortuary at Ndola Central Hospital. The truck stopped briefly as most of the mourners joined the crowd of others waiting on the front lawn, also grieving their loss. We drove to the rear of the hospital, the odor from the mortuary permeating the air. We were number eight in line. I waited in the truck as a group of the men claimed the body, prepared him for burial, and then loaded the coffin back onto the truck. As we left the hospital we joined in the caravan of others making the journey to Kantolomba Cemetery. The singing began with the deep voices of the men, joined by the beautiful harmony of the women telling the Bible story from Genesis of Jacob’s Ladder – climbing the stairway, accompanied by the angels, to be closer to God. Upon reaching the cemetery it was much like our visit before – mourners crowded around the already too many mounds of dirt, singing and praying, wailing and grieving the loss of too many lost loved ones. The grave site was near the foot of a small hill. The men gathered near the grave, the women a little further back. Today’s ceremony was brief, with two preachers reading scripture and giving the prayers and blessing. The coffin was placed in the ground, and before they began covering it, one of the men scooped some of the soil into a shovel and passed through the mourners, offering them this last chance to touch and bless the soil which would soon cover the deceased. The grave was quickly filled and the dirt mounded on top. There was a eulogy from one of the ministers, telling in only a few minutes of the life of Siprain. Then the ceremony of placing the flowers began. As they called names of relatives and friends, they stepped forward to collect a flower or small wreath, knelt beside the grave, and offered their final prayers and respect as they gently placed the flowers on the mounded grave. A man was invited to come forward by one of the ministers, and he expressed the community’s appreciation for our support and assistance in transport, and then the minister placed a flower in my hand to place on the grave. As the crowd dispersed, singing filled the air, and we watched as the sisters of the deceased grieved almost uncontrollably, the older women helping them to climb the hill out of the cemetery. During the long drive back to the funeral home we heard songs which express their sorrow and grief - “Now we are weeping and mourning, he has chosen the way home.”

“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home…” John 14:1-2

2007-09-09T11:21:00.001-07:00

Today we were invited to attend church service at Dag Hammarskjöld by Thomas Bwalya, one of our brick layers. We drove down the long drive lined with the tall, tall pines, past the high tension wires and onto the dirt road. And then we wondered – where next? We tried to call Thomas, but could not reach him. We drove a little way, and greeted a man walking down the road who, of course, said we were going the wrong way. He said to turn back and just keep going straight, straight, straight! We kept going straight and ended up at the Dag Hammarskjöld Memorial, which is a nicely kept peaceful memorial park. There were two men there who we also asked how to find Deliverance Ministries Church. They had not heard of it, but said all the churches are in the same place. Go back the way we just came from, and at the first wide dirt path, turn left and just keep going until it ends at the churches. We drove for about 2 kilometers and chose what we thought was the first wide path. Then we drove through washed out areas, our tires not really fitting the ruts worn into the path. We drove around trees and termite mounds. And finally we decided we were lost and had best go back. As we turned, the phone rang and it was Thomas, saying he could see us. We looked all around and could see nothing but the tall elephant grass and the dirt road in front and behind us. When I asked where he was, he replied “Just here, on the road.” Finally I saw the figure of a man in the distance running toward us. Thomas jumped in the car and directed us to turn back around – we had been going the right direction, just not far enough. We turned several more times, the road becoming smaller, and smaller with each turn. Finally we were winding our way around the other churches, and we arrived at the Deliverance Everngelist Pentecost Church in Zambia, where Thomas is a deacon. His three children arrived shortly, ages 2, 8 and 10. The two older ones greeted us, by the two year old hid under her older sister’s shetange, not having seen a white person before. Thomas’ wife remained at home, feeling the strain of carrying their fourth child, due next month. Thomas had built the church, using the customary mud bricks. When we entered the church we saw the off-center support was a tree which had been growing there, the top cut into a “Y” to support the cross beam. The inside of the roof was constructed of tree limbs arranged in cross-supports with heavy black plastic laid on top – a few sunny spots shining through the worn and torn areas. The outside of the roof was dried elephant grass. The benches were pieces of shaved logs nailed to round stumps which were only about eight inches off the ground. Some appearing quite wobbly, we chose one near the back which looked more secure. Thomas quickly unpacked a plastic grocery bag and set the altar. There was a white cloth which had the name of the church and John 3:16 embroidered in red on the front. After placing it on the simple wooden altar, he folded the edges on the top, and placed two small plastic bottles weighted with dirt, each containing red plastic flowers, on the front corners. Before the service began, the pastor rang on Thomas’ phone, conveying his regrets that he was out of town and unable to receive us as guests. Thomas was conducting the service today in the pastor’s absence. As we waited for the rest of those meeting today, those inside began singing in Bemba “God Show Us the Way.” Once all were congregated, we, as honored guests, were invited to sit next to the altar on upholstered stools covered with a piece of white and gold lace. Thomas sat next to us on a small wooden bench. We first rose for a prayer of forgiveness and thanksgiving. Then, much to our surprise and delight the first song was Takwaba – a song which we know well, including the motions. The congregation was taken by surprise when we joined in the singing and dancing so readily, knowing all the words. Next was a brief time of individual prayer, everyone praying and praising God out loud, in their own way. Hallelujah! Amen! The women’s choir entered the church, singing and dancing in a procession of three. They stayed in front of the altar, requesting deliverance and God’s help through their singing and dancing and hand motions. They danced back to their seats and then the youth choir was called upon. There were about fifteen young people who marched in time to the front of the church, bringing three drums made of hollowed trees covered with goat skin, and a make-shift tambourine constructed of circles of wire with metal rings in between. One of the older boys stood at the tallest drum, using the palm of his hand and a stubby wooden stick to play on the top and side of the drum. Two other boys squatted at the other two drums, playing them with both hands, and another took charge of the tambourine. Their songs were asking, “God please guide me. I am with you. Stay with me. Keep me from temptation and diseases.” Many of the women were dancing in the aisle and raising their arms in praise and worship. When the choir was finished they marched a full circle around the drums, returning to their seats, the musicians following behind, still beating the drums. Amen! There was then a prayer to prepare to receive the word of God. Today’s word was John 14:1-7 – Jesus, the way to the Father, followed by Luke 16:19-31 – the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. Thomas delivered the message in Bemba, so I’m not sure what it was, but it was followed by Amen! And clapping. Then the offering was accepted at the altar. Two small tin bowls were placed on either side, and while the choir sang, each individual brought their gift forward as the Spirit moved them. Thomas stepped forward and spoke a few words. The choir began singing, and slowly people knelt before the altar or placed their babies in his arms. Each leaned forward to whisper their specific need for physical healing in his ear. Thomas placed his right hand on their forehead, raised his left hand to heaven and prayed. After this we heard announcements: today’s collection was K46,450 (a little less than $12), the number in attendance was 62, and we were welcomed as visitors followed by Amen! And clapping. After the closing prayer we followed Thomas outside where we were greeted by each person in attendance. There was one little girl, about seven years old, dressed in a frilly white dress, a little torn and tattered, wearing a denim baseball cap who just stared at us with her big brown eyes. Ron reached out his hand to her, and she hid. But there was another girl a bit younger, Priscilla, who was watching. When the other child hid, she immediately rushed forward smiling, and placed her tiny little hand in Ron’s, followed by a respectful curtsey. It was too sweet for words. After a little fellowship, and Ron and I singing Takwaba with part of the choir again, Thomas said we were going to his house to eat chicken. He apologized over and over that there was no mealie meal to prepare nshima, as this is the traditional welcoming food. We arrived at his home which he built in 2004, set back a little way from the road, behind a few banana trees which he said produce fruit for five or six months, mango trees with the fruit just ripening and a field of long-ago harvested maize. A very nice plot and home. He explained there is one room in his home reserved for the chickens they raise. His wife, Sylvia was there waiting, but still not feeling well, obviously very uncomfortable. And then Thomas started chasing the chickens, calling to his 8 year old son to help him. He finally caught one, holding its wings together, and then using a piece of string from a grain bag, tied it’s feet together. And as you may have guessed from the picture, since there was nothing prepared for us to eat, the chicken became my gift! What a tremendous honor. A truly extraordinary Sunday!

Friday I visited the homes of fourteen of the children attending George OMNI School. Classes don’t actually begin until Monday, so we set off as an interesting caravan – Godfridah, Ms. Masumba, myself, and about twenty-five of the younger children, all walking through the village from house to house. The school is in about the middle of the village, so we began on the right side, our first stop being the home of Judith Nakaonga. She is 8 years old, currently in grade 1, and she wants to be a teacher when she grows up. She is cared for by her stepmother and her father. She has two sisters, one older, one younger. The older girl, Georgina, attends Twapia School, and the younger sister at age 5 isn’t yet old enough for school. They remain fairly healthy, except for malaria and icifuba (coughing). They usually eat twice a day, sometimes only once. When I asked the stepmother if she had any questions or anything she would like to talk about, all she could say was Twatotella (thank you). She is grateful for the opportunity Judith has to receive an education, school books, a meal every day, a uniform and shoes – all without any fees. If there were fees, they would not be able to send both children to school. Her only request was that OMNI please continue educating the children at George so they can have the opportunity for a better life. This was fairly typical of all the home visits. Some children are cared for by a grandparent or another relative, some homes have seven or eight children, some siblings do not live in the same home, but most of the other circumstances remain constant – there is little or no income for the family and there are only one or two meals most days. And there is genuine gratitude for the education and daily meal their children receive. It was interesting walking through the village, being greeted by people everywhere, not just parents and guardians. It was humbling to see where our children live – to witness the undeniable love of an aging grandmother caring for her orphaned five year old granddaughter and two year old grandson – a widow raising five children, three of which are grandchildren she took because they were always sick when they lived with the mother, the youngest only two years old. I saw clean homes, with very little furnishings, front yards where the dirt had been swept clean, and sincere concern for their children’s future. This was no different for the home I visited where Rosa, the oldest child at 14 years is the head of the household. The father is still living, but is usually gone, I was told, “looking for food.” He cannot find steady employment and is constantly in search of some type of piece work, or molding bricks, which oftentimes takes him to other towns. Rosa is quite the young woman, accepting full responsibility for the care of her two younger siblings and the household duties. It is humbling to witness their strength. Their hands may be tired, but there is no weakness.

P.S. It was very, very difficult, but the chicken remained with Thomas and his family. It really very nearly broke my heart, knowing this was all Thomas could offer us. After holding the chicken for about thirty minutes, tears welling in my eyes, I finally had to tell him it hurt me not to be able to take the chicken, and that I will never, ever forget this lovely gift from his heart. We explained as graciously as possible that we couldn’t take a live chicken to Setanga Lodge. If we were living at George, we would have been all set! Thomas, of course, understood.

“Be happy with those who are happy…” Romans 12:15

2007-09-06T22:09:00.001-07:00

Lydia is a young woman we saw at our clinic in Mansansa. She came to the clinic for treatment of a severe burn on her leg. She was burned when she fell into a fire during a seizure. We treated the burn, but she also had a life-threatening abscess on her cheek which she didn’t even mention. She was brought to Dr. Jeanette, and as is her manner, she calmly and efficiently made an incision and drained and treated the abscess. Dr. Jeanette returned twice during her time here to follow-up and continue treatment. Today, Foster and I made the journey to Mansansa in search of Lydia. We went into the village following our usual path – a long, narrow, winding, dirt trail. As we neared the marshy area where the water pools, we saw several small children standing in the tall grass, buck naked, bathing. They stopped for a moment to smile and wave to us as we passed over the bridge. As we drove on we came to the first homes in the village. Mansansa is possibly the poorest community we visit, but the people are rich in spirit and we always receive a warm welcome. Foster greeted some men standing nearby, asking if they knew Lydia. They said yes, and then a long discussion ensued as they tried to explain how to find her home. One of the men offered to be our guide, fearing we might get lost as it is quite a distance. As we drove out of Mansansa and back to the highway, I wondered about the man in the back seat. He was larger than most of the men we meet here, he was silent, and was carrying an ax and a sack full of something with the top twisted shut and a bit of something red on the outside of the bag which looked a lot like blood. I think he had a dead chicken in the sack. But I didn’t want to ask, afraid he might show me. Foster headed down the highway to the main entrance for the next village which is Baluba. But the man said, “No, not here.” We drove a little further, turning down a dirt road with a sign pointing to Baluba Primary School. This road was very wide and in good condition, by comparison to most. I asked if Lydia lived in Baluba, and was told no – just so far back into Mansansa that this is the way to go. First we passed a heavily forested area, thick with trees and brush. Then we passed an area which had been cleared to accommodate high tension wires. Our guide pointed to the wires on a small hill and the school tucked just below the foot of the hill. Following the clearing was more bush area, where we occasionally saw a foot path along the side of the road which disappeared into the tall grass, but we never saw a house. After several miles we turned – “just this way”. The road was more like the usual roads found in the villages. It was much narrower, full of deep ruts, craters and rocks. After some time, we turned again. This time the road appeared to be more of a foot path, looking as though it had been quite some time since a car had traveled on it. The path was extremely narrow, and the tall grass on either side gently brushed along the sides of the car as we passed through. We drove, and we drove. Finally I could see a small clearing ahead, and that is where the road ended. We had reached a small cluster of homes, one of which was Lydia’s. She was standing outside in front of the cooking hut. I barely recognized her; she looked so different from when I last saw her at the clinic. The swollen cheek was no more, and the dark, sullen look, and the pain in her eyes were gone. She was beaming! The biggest smile I’ve seen yet, and she came running to greet us. She was laughing as she took my hand in hers and held it tightly. She was surprised, and she was so, so happy to see us. My heart filled to overflowing. She showed me her cheek right away, and all that remains is a tiny little scar where the incision was made. Great work Jeanette! Lydia is feeling fine, pain free and she showed me that her burn is healing nicely too, but still needs some more time. We met her mother and other family members, who greeted us warmly. And her mother thanked us for taking care of Lydia and coming back to see her again. When I asked if I could take a picture, Lydia quickly ran inside to change her clothes, and the other women smoothed and straightened their clothes and the mother put on her headdress – all to look their best. Two of the little ones ran to get the other youngsters from another house. They all came running to the small cooking hut where we were gathered, anxious to be photographed. All except one. She came running as fast as she could… until she saw my white face. She stopped dead in her tracks, let out a cry, and quickly retreated to the house! What a wonderful day! What a wonderful, joyous blessing!

“He was led like a sheep to the slaughter. And as a lamb is silent before the shearers, he did not open his mouth.” Acts 8:32

2007-09-05T22:22:00.000-07:00

Ron arrived at George School with this morning’s milk delivery, and quickly jumped out of the truck, because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. One of the older boys was shaving the head of one of the younger boys. There was an eight year-old with a little bit of soap on his head and twelve year-old with a double edged razor shaving the hair off his head. He knew just how to hold the razor, making long, clean passes along the scalp of the little one. The younger boy never uttered a sound, but stood in complete silence, not moving a muscle. There were no nicks or cuts (on either boy) and a big pile of hair lay on the ground when he was done. Would you give a twelve year-old a razor? The double edge razor is also what is commonly used to sharpen pencils. I have watched horrified as children as small as five or six pull a razor out of their pocket and carefully, and quickly sharpen their pencils. Amazing!

Foster and I spent much of our time today in traffic jams! Now this isn’t something you see every day in Zambia! We were on our way to the warehouse, and as we crossed the small bridge just outside of town, we saw a huge group of people standing beside the road ahead. As we got closer, we could see there were police officers and hundreds of people lining the street. So, of course we stopped to ask what the excitement was all about. There was a truck passing through from South Africa which was transporting mine equipment. The truck has twenty axles, travels only 20 kilometers per hour, and is pulled from the front and pushed from behind. Everyone had come out to see this amazing site. We however, saw nothing but bumpers. When we finished at the warehouse, traffic was at a near stand-still due to the slow moving procession. They said there are people in the front who cut any electrical wires that are in the way, and then people in the back who repair them. They also remove and replace signs, and any other obstacles as they travel to the mine. After nearly one hour we made it back to town, made a few stops, and then headed for George. Unfortunately the truck was now in town, and traffic was again a terrific mess. We detoured unsuccessfully, and ended up in another hour delay, as cars attempted to drive anywhere they possibly could. There just aren’t that many roads here. The road suddenly had four lanes where previously there were only two, and people were driving over lawns and fields attempting to make some headway. Once again, there were hoards of people standing anywhere they could to view this spectacle. And, once again we missed it.

Progress has slowed at the project site again as we wait for water. The well-digger should come tomorrow to determine what the problem is. He has been unavailable due to the death of his child. One more reminder of the frailty of life here.

“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life - whether you have enough food and drink and enough clothes to wear..” Matthew 7:25

2007-09-04T11:36:00.000-07:00

Today I received the checks from the Rotary Club of Ndola and began actually purchasing the items for the interior of the first home. It felt so good to finally be buying the items for the home! But of course, nothing goes as planned, and some of the household items originally ordered were no longer available, so some substitutions were made. Things we would never even think about in the U.S. For instance, the frying pan June and I had ordered was no longer available. I asked the clerk to see what other ones she had and I would just choose one of them. She said there were none. It all worked out in the end and I loaded up the Land Cruiser – every square inch - with sheets, blankets, pillows, towels, silverware, pots and pans and the like. The last store I picked from (in Zambia you don’t pick up, you just pick) they sent their guard to stand with me until I was pulling away. They were afraid with all the merchandise, and the color of my skin, I might be a target. So, a tough looking elderly man with a big stick, and a gruff voice stood at the back of the car until I started driving off. Then he flashed a big smile and waved as I pulled out. I guess he’s only tough when he has to be. Then I drove out to our warehouse storage. Mr. Patel, the manager there, was surprised to see me alone, and had one of his yard men help me unload the car. I know it will be some time before all of these things are put into use, but it’s so good to take the next step!

Then it was off to Kasongo to deliver Annie’s monthly food supplies, so I stopped at George to pick (up) Ron. There were about fifteen men, in a one meter deep trench, furiously digging with picks and shovels, creating the beginnings of our next building – the cafeteria. Sandy, one of the younger men, was busy cooking lunch – nshima and buka fish. The nshima is cooked in a tin bucket over an open fire. Boil the water first, then keep adding the mealie meal (a fine corn meal) until it’s the proper consistency, stirring frequently with a huge wooden paddle. The small fish are scaled using a hacksaw blade, and then cut in half with the same. (Ron only eats the tail end!) They are salted and laid in the sun on the roll of wire used for the block work, then eventually cooked over the open fire in oil in a blackened tin container which has the top rolled back. Meanwhile, Sandy was also cleaning the plastic pans used to serve lunch and that they eat out of. Today we were watching, and Ron asked “Is that soap powder?” The answer was, “No, its sand. There is no soap.” He was using water with sand as an abrasive to clean the pans. And his rag was a small piece of the sack from the mealie meal. I had never seen them cleaning the dishes before, but am told this is the usual procedure at the work site. When I was buying the food stuffs for Annie, I had bought one box of dish paste for our own use. Wasn’t it strange that it was the only extra thing I had bought? When I brought the soap to him, you would think I had given him a handful of gold! Such a small thing. Such a huge smile. The soap cost 4,500 kwacha (about $1.15) and it will last a long, long time. I would never have imagined that dish soap could be so valuable… and so unattainable. The men here choose very carefully, and must make tough decisions. If they bring something like soap to the work site for their own use, then their family must do without. It’s a really tough life – using sand to clean dishes. We also found a cloth they could use instead of the piece of gunny sack. When lunch was ready, there were three plastic bins with nshima and three with fish. The men washed, and then sat in circles around the bins of food, under whatever little shade they could find. Philemon prayed a blessing over the food and the men, then everyone took a couple handfuls of nshima and a few pieces of the fish. You then pinch off small pieces of the nshima, rolling it into a ball with one hand and eat it with the fish. After you have pried the fish open with your fingers and removed the innards, the bones fall out, and you eat all the rest. And I mean ALL the rest – skin and eyes included. We are always welcome to share in the noon day meal, but I still can’t bring myself to even try to eat the fish. Luckily, they are just amused by my squeamish nature, and no offense is taken. They just say, “Oh, it’s very good! Maybe one day you’ll try.” And I answer, “Maybe…” And then they laugh. Wonder if we ate out of the pans washed with sand or dish soap.

“…we call him Abba, Father. For his Spirt joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children.” Romans 8:15-16

2007-09-03T11:18:00.000-07:00

Meet Florence and Lawrence. They are five year old twins of Lawrence, one of the laborers. Lawrence is shimpundu – the father of twins. The men at the site call Ron this frequently, having learned that he too is the father of twins. Ron met these two precious children today when he went in search of water. Yesterday we experienced our first rain. Today, the well was dry at the project site. The brick layers were at a standstill until they could find water. They loaded the truck with four of the 55 gallon drums and went in search of water. One barrel of water was needed for drinking and cooking, the other three for mixing cement. The first stop was the bore hole at the school. But there was too much activity there. The teachers and school children were busy cleaning the desks and chairs and mopping out the classrooms in preparation for the new term. So they went to the bore hole back by Frank’s house. Frank is one of the brick layers, a grandfather, always polite and respectful, and has one of the deepest voices I’ve ever heard. They rolled the barrels off the truck, and using a giant tube, filled the barrels with water and then rolled them up a timber ramp onto the back of the truck. As usual, there was a huge audience of children who gathered to watch the activity. They are especially curious to watch Ron, and see what the white face is doing. This is where Ron met Florence and Lawrence. Sweet little faces with beautiful brown eyes – a little shy, but curious also. The bore hole was also near the home of Lawrence. His wife carrying their baby, and the twins came out to greet everyone. It’s amazing to see the homes here at George, and learn that they are constructed of mud bricks. First you dig up some dirt and make a pile. Then you go to the well, or if you’re lucky the bore hole, and get a pail of water. Then, you slowly mix the water into the dirt using a spade or the flat side of a pick ax. Then you fill a metal form with the mud, beat it in so it’s solid and turn it out onto the ground to bake in the sun. We have seen children of about nine years going through this process as well as adults. And even younger children of five years help by hauling the water. When we asked about the rainy season and how the bricks fare through all of the rain, we were told that’s why it’s important to have an overhang on the roof. Most of the roofs are constructed of dried elephant grass and scraps of cardboard with metal rims anchoring them down. It’s unbelievable. Behind each home there is a deep hole in the ground surrounded by a grass shack. This is the toilet. I don’t know how that lasts through the rainy season. But this is the typical home at George – a two room building constructed of mud bricks with a grass roof. When you enter the home, you typically pass through a shetange or a piece of lace which covers the doorway. And you enter an immaculately kept home. There are crudely constructed shelves which harbor tin plates and bowls, cookware for the outside fire, and plastic cups for drinking. The dirt floor is swept clean – yes I said a clean dirt floor, and there may be a small table and one or two chairs, or there may be no furniture at all. The second room is usually empty and used for sleeping. Some may have straw mats which they use to sleep on, and maybe a few clothes hanging on nails or stacked in the corner. Most families have five or six children, and one or more grandparents living in there home.

Our Monday was much improved over the previous week. Ron was even able to get one of the generators which had been on the container up and running. There was much excitement at the project site as its engine finally roared to a start! There was additional activity as the drills and skil saw finally came to life. The brick layers were able to continue with the construction of the guard hut, the carpenters are hard at work on the roof, and the laborers are busy digging for the foundation of the cafeteria building (which will initially be used as a school). God is good – all the time!

“…Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

2007-09-02T11:46:00.000-07:00

Last week was one fraught with many details, entanglements, and revisions. The days were very long, and the most challenging we have experienced yet. We felt bombarded with unsettling requests and failed plans. We learned to expect the unexpected, and be surprised by nothing. We were reminded to rely totally on God. Only He knows the plans He has for us. The first upset was Monday morning when my phone was lifted from my waist pack while I was wearing it. Ron and Philemon picked up more blocks this week, and transported them as they always have – the truck loaded and two men sitting against the back window of the cab, on top of the blocks. But Wednesday morning it was straight to jail for Ron which Godfridah (one of our school teachers) summed up this way: “They saw the white face, and just thought, how can he contribute today?” The fine was K54,000 (about $13) and they were told the men’s feet must be on the floor of the truck. They can sit on the blocks, but their feet must be on the floor. We won’t mention the logging trucks with the flimsy chains and six men sitting on top of the logs, or the trucks overloaded with men sitting on the side rails which just pass through the check points. Thursday they made sure the men’s feet were on the floor of the truck but it was off to jail again. This time Foster and I and Brown Banda met Ron and Philemon at the police station. Everyone was really upset because they had done what the previous officer instructed, and still they were impounded. Ron was very upset; Foster even noted that his walk was different. He was storming! Ron saw the officer from the day before and immediately approached her about what was happening. She tried to quickly exit, but Foster and Ron stopped her. So, after some time of all the men arguing the officer in charge released Ron and the truck with no fine. And he did it with a smile. And that is how the week went. Every day, all day long, it seemed nothing went smoothly. If it could go wrong, it did! It seemed we couldn’t find the comfort or solace we so desperately needed. By Saturday night we were totally exhausted – mentally, physically, and spiritually.

Then this morning, still feeling discouraged and overwrought, we made our way to the Twapia Church of Christ which meets at Twapia Basic School at 10 am on Sundays – or whenever the members in charge are able to make their way across the compound, walking to the service. There are many schoolrooms at Twapia Basic School, all holding church services. So, we made our way around the school complex, looking for William and the church service. As we walked past each schoolroom, someone would pop out, greet us, give a puzzled look when we asked for the Church of Christ, then direct us to an empty schoolroom. After about twenty minutes, one man said most definitely they meet over there – William is his friend and he sees him there every Sunday. So, we went back and now there were a few people inside. As we were talking, an elderly gentlemen walking down the dusty path greeted us and said “You must be our visitors. Welcome!” William was in Kitwe at a church conference, but had made arrangements with Elder Ndhlovu to welcome us. And we were definitely welcome here. We sat at school desks which are more like benches, two to a seat. As families arrived, the men separated from their wives and children. All the men were on one side of the room, and the women and children on the other. We were given two hymnals today, the pages worn and tattered, one covered in red velvet, the other in brown wrapping paper – one in Bemba and one in Tonga. Mr. Ndhlovu explained they sing in both languages because their members are not all from the same tribe. So, the service began as they all have, with a few voices, raised in glorious song, praising God. I wish you could hear the music and the resonating voices of this small gathering, and experience the feeling of complete joy and satisfaction that is so evident. Their voices are their only instruments. Everyone sings. Everyone sings out. There is what seems to be a natural, effortless harmony. There is no worry or reluctance. They are praising God. Their music is their gift to God. A young woman with an infant on her back and a toddler at her side, stepped over to make sure we were able to follow in the hymnals. And we were able to follow along, even join in singing. Although we didn’t know the words we were able to fumble through phonetically, and happy to join in their joyous celebration. Elder Ndhlovu graciously preached in English today, and invited an interpreter to translate for the congregation. Today’s lesson was spiritual growth – just as a child does not remain stagnant but grows, so must we who have accepted Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. We can only grow and understand what the Lord wants us to do by reading the scripture. The first reading was Ephesians 4:15. We were reminded that we can’t speak the truth in love if we don’t know the word of God. Everything we need is in the Bible. Whatever we do, love should come first – always. Pray to God for wisdom to understand His word. If you want to eat you must first go to the fields and cultivate, plant and harvest. It is the same with God’s Word – cultivate – plant – harvest. “May the Lord make your love for one another and for all people grow and overflow…” 1Thessalonians 3:12. But it was the reading from Isaiah 40:31 when I knew that God was speaking directly to us: “But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles.” And Isaiah 41: 10 “Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my righteous right hand.” And Elder Ndhlovu told us that while there may be every type of affliction imaginable here on earth, when we stand firm in the Lord, we need fear nothing – where we go He is with us – He will indeed hold us in the palm of His hand – and as He promises we will soar high above. This was the Word we needed to hear. The earth and heavens may pass away but the Lord will hold us up in His victorious right hand. The Lord has invited us to walk forward with Him. Don’t go backward. Be ready whenever He comes. Preaching was followed by singing in Tonga “Sena Ndililembedwe Mo?” (Is My Name Written There?) Next was sharing in the Lord’s Supper. First we read from Luke 22:29-30, John 3:3-5 and Matthew 26:26-28. We then prayed for the bread, we stood and received the Body of Christ from a shiny silver tray which was brought around the room to each person. We prayed for the wine, and received it in the same manner – from tiny plastic cups held on a silver tray. This was followed by Acts 20:35 and the offering, while singing “Bakaleta Zipego” (Something for Jesus). There was a prayer of thanksgiving, and a prayer of blessing. Then we were invited to speak what was on our hearts, and we attempted to convey our gratitude for their warm welcome into their church family, the gracious blessings, and the honor of sharing worship and fellowship with them. We were officially welcomed with a resounding AMEN! Once again, we were invited to be first in the receiving line after the service, and were blessed with the generous smiles and warm, solid handshakes of every person. There was a time of fellowship and gathering, and we were treated like old friends and asked to return. We are so privileged to be here. God is truly leading us where we need to be, where He wants us – every day, but I think most especially on Sundays. We needed to be at Twapia Church of Christ today. We needed to hear the words spoken today, and share in the welcoming fellowship of this Christian community. We are grateful for God’s faithfulness. He is our cornerstone, our comforter, and He stands before us each day with gifts of love. Today was a tremendous gift.

It rained this afternoon – the first rain since we have been here. It was a long, steady, hard rain. It was a cleansing rain. Now it is cooler and the air is clean and fresh.

“Hear the word of the Lord…” Hosea 4:1

2007-08-26T23:59:00.000-07:00

Today we were invited to the United Church of Christ in Twapia by their chairman, and our favorite welder, William. But a funny thing happened on the way…we got a little lost in Twapia. William told us the service was held in the school, but we didn’t know which school. So we stopped and asked, several times, and the directions were always the same – just go this way – and a crooked hand pointing to the right. Finally one man said, “In fact I am going there, and I will take you.” So he hopped in the back seat and led us down one of the worst paths we have traveled on yet. The dirt road was extremely narrow and had deep, deep ruts. We passed churches and homes, and people everywhere. Everyone dressed in their best – many of the men in suits or dress shirts with ties, and the women in beautiful shetanges with matching headdresses. All of this on a very windy day, with the copper colored dust swirling around everyone as they walked to church. But they didn’t seem to notice. Thankfully it wasn’t long before our guide said, “Turn just this way” with another curved hand pointing to the right. And so we had arrived – at the United Church of Zambia. Since we couldn’t call William, and we had no idea how else to find his church, we stayed. Before we could even get out of the car, two young boys were at our side, huge smiles and hands outstretched, greeting us with “mulishani” which means how are you. We responded “bwino, bwino” which means very well, and they giggled, running off into the crowd. As we rounded the corner to enter the church, we saw a procession entering the far left of the church. It was a long line, rounding the opposite corner, softly singing and dancing in a sort of rhythmic rocking motion as they entered the church. We were escorted to our seats by a lovely young woman who greeted us warmly and welcomed us to worship. The procession continued to the front of the church, until all forty members of the choir were in place in front of the congregation. Then they erupted into song. The walls shook, as the leader sang the first words, and the choir echoed in response. I looked around the church, noticing the decorative streamers hanging from the rafters, the smooth concrete floor, and the poster of a white Jesus behind the minister’s lectern. Then it happened. A man knelt beside Ron, and escorted him outside, motioning for me to stay. Very soon he returned to escort me outside. Now we were in trouble, they had asked us to leave the church! They explained this was only to welcome us, and so the secretary could record our names and where we are from, and also to provide an interpreter for us since the entire service is in Bemba. We followed Abraham, a very nice young man back to our seats, where we literally sat shoulder to shoulder for the remaining 2-1/2 hours. The church was filled to capacity. We learned later there were 365 in attendance today. The first part of the service concentrated on songs of praise, and prayers. During the prayers, which lasted quite some time, everyone slipped from their seat to their knees on the concrete floor. Once again I was reminded of the incredible strength we witness each and every day, and the great faith that exists in the communities we visit. In addition to the forty member choir, there were two sub choirs. Each of the smaller choirs had approximately ten members, one comprised entirely of the elderly, who formed a circle in front of the church each time they sang, and the other was young people who raised their hands and voices in worship. The secretary came forward to make the daily announcements, and we were officially welcomed to the service, as she asked us to stand, and the congregation clapped three times, each clap loud and distinct, welcoming us in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Then the main choir began singing again – glorious, strong, harmony. And then the drums came. They brought three huge drums forward, the traditional kind hewn from trees and the tops covered with goat skin, and soon a flat straw shaker filled with seeds joined in. And the choir began dancing – purposefully, each step and hand motion with a meaning. Abraham said they were telling the story of Ezekiel. It was powerful – the beat of the drums, the deep harmony of all those strong voices, the dance, the expressions on their faces, their respect – it was truly Spirit-filled. Then the choir members turned one to face the other, continuing to sing and dance, and then looking to either side, front and behind. Now they were looking for their shepherd. They know he is always near. Then we heard the lessons for the day: Hosea 4:1-7 and James 2:1-13. The offering was of course accompanied by music, and ushers led each row forward to place their offering in a basket, or some who had envelopes placed them in a wooden structure with numbers on the front. This is when we saw our friend Peter Zimba, the chairman from Mansansa. He stopped to greet us briefly as he returned to his seat. How remarkable that we would see him today, at a church so far from his home. Following the offering was the gospel reading of Luke 4:14-21. During all of the readings, the ushers moved throughout the church, holding T-shaped wooden signs with “silent” printed in large red letters on one side and “tondola” on the other, just as a reminder to the congregation to be still and listen to the word of God. The gospel was followed by the sermon. Today’s message was social responsibility, and sharing our gifts. While each man is blessed with a gift, no matter what it is, God has given it to him to share. If his gift is education, then he must share what he has learned. If his gift is wealth, then he must share with those who are suffering in the depths of poverty. If his gift is joy, then he must share with those who are unhappy. The service ended with more tremendous music, the choirs and congregation singing together. Abraham led us outside, immediately following the minister, secretary and those assisting with the service. Once again, we were honored to stand in line with the minister and greet each person as they left the church. The girls curtseyed, and everyone shook our hand in the usual manner – with their left hand under their right arm, one more demonstration of respect. Some spoke English, some Bemba, but they all smiled. We are so blessed in our time here. Although the path may not always be smooth, and the journey may take a detour here and there, we are so richly blessed wherever we go.

We did see William later, explained our dilemma in finding the church, and with his usual huge smile, he said he’ll make sure we find him next Sunday.

“Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained by living a godly life.” Proverbs 16:31

2007-08-25T07:39:00.000-07:00

Not a day passes that we don’t give someone a lift into or out of George. If it’s the truck, the bed is usually filled with people struggling with heavy loads, small children giggling and smiling, or elderly women. I limit my transport to people I know, children or the elderly. It still amazes me to see women with babies tied on their backs with shetanges climb so effortlessly onto the back of the truck. Or pregnant women, put one foot on top of the tire and then whoever is already in back pull them inside. I can’t get my foot anywhere near the top of the tire! There is one man I’ll never forget. There was a small group of women and children near the entrance to George, on their way home. As the truck stopped, I turned to watch through the back window of the truck, and wave as the children easily slid on. Then I saw a man walking slowly toward the truck. His head was crowned with gray hair, his face gnarled with age, appearing to be more than 80 years old. It didn’t matter that the temperature was well over ninety degrees, the hot noon day sun beating straight down on us. He was dressed in a slightly tattered green suit complete with a tie. He walked with a crutch, which helped to hide a definite limp and the frailty of his gait. He waved his crutch in the air, signaling that he wanted a lift also. And so I watched as this tiny gray haired man scaled the side of the truck. He tossed the crutch in the back, grasped the side of the truck with both hands and then heaved his bad leg over first. Then two of the women pulled the rest of him up, over and in. The ride into George is not an easy one. It is a dusty dirt road filled with holes followed by craters followed by rocks – over and over and over again. It is a long, slow, bumpy drive – especially in the back of the truck. But each time I looked, this elderly gentleman was wearing a big toothy grin. When the truck stopped I said a silent prayer as I watched this man carefully lower himself over the side of the truck, the women surrounding him with outstretched arms, making sure he didn’t fall. The women and children waved, clapped their hands in the traditional thank you, and called out “Natotela” which means thank you in Bemba. But the elderly man, slowly and purposefully made his way to the driver’s side of the truck. He looked up at Ron, smiling all the while, and in his very best English, each word pronounced distinctly and very precisely, said “I thank you. Thank you for helping me. And may God bless you always.” It is so humbling. His respect for us was so great…and ours for him. As he stood there, looking up at Ron, I noticed his ill-fitting spectacles, the aluminum crutch, and his big smile, and it suddenly struck me that these things were the result of our clinic several weeks earlier. The ride into George was the least of it. The glasses and the crutch help him on his journey every single day. There is no photograph of this gentleman. The only picture is the one we hold in our minds and treasure in our hearts.

“From his abundance we have all received one gracious blessing after another.” John 1:16

2007-08-22T10:40:00.001-07:00

Yesterday began a little differently than usual. I left Ron home, resting and praying he will soon feel better. As I drove from town into George, something didn’t seem quite right. The usual police check point on the road between town and George was removed. The barrels normally in the middle of the road were not there, nor were the police officers. So, I wondered, and just drove on. As I drove on, I noticed police officers stationed at each dirt road off the highway. Then I really wondered. They weren’t brandishing weapons, so I wasn’t worried. Yet I wondered if maybe there had been some trouble in the area. When I met up with Foster at George, he explained that there was no trouble, just that President Mwanawasa was in Ndola for the opening of a gem factory and the dedication of a road in Luanshya. I was told the police are there just as extra protection along any highway he may travel. Later in the day, we were also detained as traffic was stopped for about 20 minutes, waiting for the President’s motorcade to pass through downtown. Yesterday was also my first solo shopping experience in Twapia. I needed worm medication for baby Frederick, and was advised by Godwin that I could find it in Twapia. So, I drove the crater filled road into Twapia and parked in an open area near the market. Although the drug stores don’t have many medications, there are several tiny drug stores in Twapia, so I thought my chances were good. So I revisited the drug store where Fridah had taken me. I was in luck, because the girl inside spoke English. The bad news was she didn’t have the medication. But she said she knew a place. So, she quickly led me down the winding, rocky path to another small store, interpreted what was needed, and then she was off like a flash – back to her store. I walked back to thank her for her kindness and asked if she would mind if I took a “snap” of her. She giggled, said something in Bemba to a man in the store, then proudly posed behind her counter.

Today I am happy to say that Ron is feeling better. We spent the day together, picking up and delivering steel bars to be drilled for the roof, and took huge round bars for cutting and welding to the William the Welder. We met with Brown Banda and visited the sawmill again to check on our order for 6 meter timbers for the headers on the porch and veranda. We also stopped at our school at George to take measurements so we could estimate how much paint will be needed to paint the two classrooms. When we arrived, there was a large crowd gathered in back of the school. Godwin explained that every Wednesday another NGO is there for a malnutrition program. They have a baby scale, and weigh the children to make sure they are progressing, and also give 1kg each of beans and soya, which is used to make porridge. The women were cooking greens and nshima. Some of the older children were grinding ground nuts for the little ones, using a big stone bowl and a long branch which had been smoothed over so no rough edges remained, pounding and mashing the nuts, like an antique mortar and pestle. There was also a small group there from Italy – four men and one woman. They only spoke a few words of English, so all I could find out is this was their first day in Africa and they will be here for 7 days. I never did discover who they came with or what they are doing, but like the OMNI team, their enthusiasm and excitement were very apparent. As we were trying to communicate with one another, the women from the village formed a large circle and began singing and dancing. There were women of all ages, and even a few men, all clapping their hands in time with the song, and singing and laughing at one another as they each took turns entering the center of the circle to dance alone. Whoever was in the center really performed, adding a little more hip motion to the dance. Young and old alike, all made it to the center, enjoying one another, and having such a good time. Then they started bringing the white people in, one by one, taking each of us by the hand and inviting us to join in the outer circle. Then, one, by one, they brought us into the center ring as well. Some of the Italian men did a little do-si-do which they found very amusing, and the crowd really howled when one of the men did a few Michael Jackson moves, even leaping into the air. It was an incredible time of sharing and fun and laughter, where language was no longer a barrier. What a wonderful blessing. I’m so glad we went to check on painting the classrooms today!

“Love each other as brothers and sisters.” 1Peter 3:8

2007-08-21T00:24:00.000-07:00

It’s still unbelievable to me how fragile life is here and that the loss of life has become an every day occurrence. I asked Foster how many siblings he has, and he simply stated, “Once we were seven, now we are three.” It’s just the way it is. I imagine that’s why the extended family is so very important here. I learned that in Zambia there is no word for uncle, aunt or cousin. If the uncle is older than your father he is your “big father”, if he is younger he is your “small father”. The same is true for aunts. Your cousins are your brothers and sisters, and your nieces and nephews are your sons and daughters – and there is no difference in status. Your nieces and nephews (most especially if they live with you) are treated exactly the same as your children. That’s the origin of the saying “In Africa there are no orphans.” When your brother or sister dies, their child is automatically your child. I sometimes forget that life expectancy here is a mere 32 years of age. I see older people. But I also forget that most of the time their appearance is not an accurate reflection of their age. Someone may appear to be seventy years old, when they are actually only fifty years old. And the reverse is true for children. Because so many are malnourished, they are smaller and appear much younger than they actually are. I don’t think I’ll ever forget Steven, a small boy we saw at the clinic in Mansansa. He was the first patient I treated in wound care with Rusty and Jon. He had a severe burn on his left arm, a result of being epileptic and falling into a fire during a seizure. He was sweet and gentle, never flinching as we treated his burn, and had the most beautiful big brown eyes. I thought he was around eight years old. He was fourteen.

Then there are cases like baby Frederick. We saw this tiny little miracle today. His mother brought him to George for a visit with us, making the long trek from Dag Hammarskjöld. The first time we saw him, about a month ago, he was so weak and malnourished he was unable to lift his head or eat. Today he doesn’t stop eating! They arrived at lunch time at the project site and the men fixed a plate of nshima and fish for them. Frederick dug in, and ate all the nshima. He picked up the fish head, not too sure about it, and just watched as it dangled from his fingertips. I don’t think I would even pick it up! We were so happy to see him alert, not only eating but feeding himself, and smiling.

We also attempted to purchase books for Teddy’s next term at college. Seems like a simple enough thing, you take the list, go to the book store, and it’s done. Not so. We went to the book stores - they looked on the shelves, they looked on their lists, they looked to see if they could order them – negative on all counts. And it’s not like in the U.S. where you visit the college campus book store, pay an exorbitant amount of money, and walk out with the books. There is no book store on campus. We were advised by the merchants in town that these books are generally available only from the street vendors. Amazing! And too bad. The street vendors have all been chased away by the police force here in Ndola. So, we will continue to search. Typically the street vendors display their wares either on a blanket or a straw mat placed on the sidewalk. They sell everything from food, sunglasses, and books to electric coils for your stove. As you pass by, they call out to you “Madame, see, only 10,000 kwacha.”

Sorry to report that Ron is still not feeling well. He spent most of Sunday in bed, and came home around 15 hours today to rest. Hopefully tomorrow he will be feeling much better.

Thanks again for all the prayers, and we are really enjoying all the comments on the blog. It’s so good to hear from you all. Wish you could all be here! And Charlie, we haven’t seen one drop of rain so far. Come October, after we leave, it will start raining and won’t stop for a couple of months! One more reason we need that roof completed.

There is a new twist in the proceedings here at Setanga Lodge. In addition to our routine power outages, we can now add no phone service periodically (which translates into no internet service), and the water pump has been malfunctioning for the past several days which means no cold water (which means no bath). Oh well, we’re not here for the technology. So far, we have been very, very fortunate. So, this blog was meant to be posted last night, but I’ve come to the internet café this morning to post. Hope the picture will download!

“Sing praise songs to God…Raise the roof!” Isaiah 12:5

2007-08-18T11:34:00.001-07:00

Think back to yesteryear and the Walton’s television show, and try to remember the sawmill they used. Ron, Philemon and Eric, our carpenter went to pick up timbers at the sawmill in Ndola yesterday. The yard was filled with pine logs and mountains of sawdust. The logs are delivered by truck, rolled from the truck into haphazard piles, then carried to the mill area by two men. There were three pine tree logs earmarked for us, all about 20 feet long and 2 feet in diameter which were cut into four timbers. The men placed each log on the saw table, and began cutting our timbers with a saw blade that appeared roughly three feet in diameter, water flowing over it to reduce friction. It was interesting that no one observed any kind of measurements being taken, yet all four timbers came out perfectly? These four timbers were for the peak of the roof, and the joists are then placed on top of them. And so, yesterday we saw the roof begin to take shape on the children’s home.
Foster and I went in search of baby Frederick yesterday. He was the child who had been admitted to Children’s Hospital suffering from malnutrition, and has since been discharged. We asked Godwin if he knew how to find the home. He said “I know the place.” So we drove, and we drove. We drove down the main highway to Dag Hammarskjöld, a neighboring community to George. The drive into Dag Hammarskjöld is like a beautiful painting; tall, tall pines lining the narrow dirt road which we followed for 5 kilometers. Then into an open area filled with high tension wires where the government is building a large girl’s high school. Then onto a less than single lane dirt path, winding to and fro, up and down, elephant grass high along the sides for another 5 kilometers, until we finally reached the home of Frederick Kalunga. It is difficult to imagine that the tiny woman we know as Frederick’s mother had carried her sick child such a great distance, walking for what must have been many, many hours to reach our clinic. The area they live in is filled with elephant grass, and homes are not as close together as we normally see. We were warmly greeted by the grandmother, also tiny and slight of frame, who said her daughter had taken her family to Nduba Farms some distance away, to look for work. Unfortunately it was near dark, so we were not able to travel on. We will see them another day.
Today I drove to Kasongo to see Fridah, Violet and Peter. Fridah was in classes all last week, completing a TB-HIV Adherence Counseling Training Course in Luanshya. She proudly displayed her certificate of completion and t-shirt she had received, saying she had learned much. Unfortunately, Violet had not fared so well in Fridah’s absence, not having used the crutches last week, her casts were in very bad condition. Peter’s cast was solid, and he was wearing the orthopedic boot and using his cane as a crutch. When we removed the cast, Peter proudly walked across the room, and all the women cheered and clapped to see him walking on the bottom of his foot more than the side of his foot! His grandmother takes very, very good care of him. I learned today that Peter is a double orphan, and he and his older sister live with their grandparents. Fridah’s nearly two-year old niece, Blessings, was with us today, and was absolutely fascinated by the casting process. She watched intently the whole while Fridah and I knelt on the floor - her tiny little head perched on top of my shoulder, curious, but not afraid. Blessings requested a ride in the car, and Peter’s grandmother invited me to visit their home, so we all piled into the car and drove down another winding, dusty path to find their home. We visited a short while, and I met Peter’s older sister (about 9 or 10 years old). Blessings enjoyed the car ride – a tiny little voice saying “thank you” between a few tears, not wanting the ride to end.
Today, Ron is not feeling well – slight fever, coughing and the usual cold symptoms. He still picked up timbers and blocks. Hope his cold does not last long.

“Do not practice fortune-telling or witchcraft.” Leviticus 19:26

2007-08-16T12:44:00.000-07:00

There is a whirlwind which they say appears at the same time every day at the project site. It is a wind which furiously whips the dusty ground into a small funnel that travels down the pathway in our gated area, and then disappears beyond the building. There is one worker who is known in the village to practice witchcraft. It is their belief that the small whirlwind each day is the result of witchcraft. Now they are sure of it. As the funnel came through the site, the only disturbance it caused was to the man known to practice witchcraft. As his shirt lie on the ground, it was caught in the fury of the whirlwind, totally disappearing along with the kwacha he had in the pocket. The men say he owed money to someone and they sent the whirlwind to retrieve it.
Today, Ron picked up most of the timbers ordered for the roof of the house. So, tomorrow the carpenter will begin that phase of construction. We believe (hope) that this work will proceed quickly, as they are worried the timbers will warp if they remain stacked on the ground. The guard house is also well under way, and they expect to have the block work completed by the end of day tomorrow. The men were really struggling with lowering the blocks into that deep septic pit (over 13 feet), lowering each brick one by one, from man to man and then down the make-shift ladder. After a brief evaluation, slip knots were tied on each end of a rope, allowing two men to continually lower the cement blocks down into the pit. They were happy to see how much easier the work was, and safer too. There is now scaffolding in the septic pit as they are quickly approaching ground level with the block work. Remember, the scaffolding is rickety planks wobbling between iron bars welded together. Today someone came to measure for the roof tiles. He looked at the building, walked around the outside, walked around the inside, and then finally came back outside. He looked at the bricklayer standing on the scaffolding, swaying to and fro a little, then looked at us and said, “If he can stand on it, so can I.” There wasn’t much confidence in his statement, but he made it to the top of the building!

“…even in darkness I cannot hide from you.” Psalm 139:12

2007-08-15T13:16:00.000-07:00

The last few days have been busy, but dark! We continue to have problems with power outages at Setanga Lodge and around town, mostly in the late afternoon and evening. We have seen fireworks from the transformer behind the lodge, and it appears as though some of the electrical wires are welded together. It has become almost a daily occurrence to lose power, so if the electricity is on when we get home, we rush to cook dinner and bathe, hoping to complete at least this much before the next outage.
Ron has spent the last few days as truck driver, continuing to pick up and deliver cement blocks at the construction site. We were able to watch the blocks being made at Brown Banda’s yard. The cement is mixed by hand – bags of cement are mixed with stones, and sand forming a large pile on the ground. Then a depression is made in the middle of the pile and water is added. Using a shovel, turning the mixture over and over, the water is thoroughly incorporated, until it’s finally cement. Then another man fills a metal form to create the blocks. He fills the inside portion of a two part form, then beats the cement down with his shovel and adds more cement if needed. He then removes the inside form by standing on the outside edges, then the outside form easily slides off. The blocks are lined up singly across the yard and another man waters them for some time, and then they are left to cure. It’s a labor intensive project, and it seems that no two blocks are exactly the same.
It has become usual for us to pick up riders in the back of the truck when entering and leaving George. The George community does not have any stores or services, or any mills to grind their maize, so they must travel 3.5 kilometers to Twapia for their needs. We have picked up men carrying two 100kg sacks of maze (over 200 lbs) on the backs of their bicycles, to go to Twapia to have it ground into mealie meal, which is used to make the staple food of nshima. We have picked up elderly women carrying their bags of food. We picked up one man carrying a log on his head that was about a foot in diameter and longer than truck. Monday we picked up four boys, seven or eight years old as we headed out of George. They were all smiles, riding in the back of the truck, peering through the window at us, laughing and talking all the while. Later, we brought them back after their excursion to Twapia. They had gone to Twapia to buy the materials to make traps to catch rats to sell to the community for food. Evidently a common practice here, as we learned from these enterprising young boys!
Ron has also developed “Ron’s Road Crew”. He and Teddy have been using the dirt dug from the septic, and filling in the really big craters on the road to George! It’s still a rough ride, but everyone is thankful for this improvement, and we hope it will also help with the wear-and-tear on the vehicles.
Yesterday morning we began the production of having the OMNI Children’s Village sign installed at the roadside entrance. First we took the sign to William the welder at Twapia to have it bolted to steel poles. He advised the sign would be ready at 15 hours (3 pm). At 15 hours we loaded the truck with stone, sand, a bag of cement, a wheelbarrow, shovels, levels, one of the huge barrels of water, and Foster, Philemon, Vincent, Dixon, Godwin and Teddy. We stopped at the entrance, offloading the tools and everyone but Teddy, who went to Twapia with us. The sign was not ready. But William assured us it would be soon. We walked around Twapia for awhile, visited one of the mills where the maize is ground, and snacked on some fritters. As we walked through Twapia we were followed by Arnold. Arnold is a young man about 22 years old who wanders the streets of Twapia, taking shelter wherever he can, exhibits strange behavior and is constantly talking to himself. We saw him pour mealie meal over his head, tuck branches from a bush in his trousers, dance in the middle of the street, and he threw some small bits of trash into the truck. He was in constant motion. Teddy said Arnold causes no harm to anyone, and it’s just a pity that this all seems to have resulted from him taking the local drug called daggar. At 16:30 hours William appeared with the sign and we returned to find the holes dug for the sign, and the men waiting. Too bad the holes were not the same distance apart as the poles. So, they quickly redug one of the holes, mixed the cement in the wheelbarrow, and installed the sign. We are official.

“Sing to the Lord a new song, and His praise in the assembly of Saints.” Psalm 149:1

2007-08-12T11:38:00.000-07:00

Philemon Phiri, our project engineer, invited us to attend his church this week. He came into town on public transportation, and met us at the entrance to Ndola Central Hospital, in order to guide us to his church. His church and home are located in the community of Mushili, the largest compound in Ndola. Philemon is unsure of the population there, but said it well over 50,000. We drove past the Masala Market Place, which we have been advised by Teddy is one of the best community markets for shopping. It was a bit of a drive, traveling on paved roadways for awhile, then onto the dirt roadways. Philemon told us during the drive that he is originally from the mountainous region of the Western Province in Zambia, some 900 kilometers away. His surname, Phiri means mountains. We stopped in front of a primitive looking wooden structure, with a metal sign in front which read “Bible Gospel Church in Africa”. There was not a parking area since everyone walks to church, so we just pulled off the road and parked near the sign. As we entered the church, we were greeted by warm smiles and handshakes by those who would soon be conducting the service. It was a little dark inside, the only light coming from between the wood slats which were nailed together, forming the walls of the church. The roof was made from the same, but covered with heavy plastic which we could hear rippling in the wind. The floor was dirt, but the marks remained where it had been carefully swept. The altar was a large area in the front, built up with concrete blocks covered with compacted dirt, and two large rugs. The back drop for the altar was a burgundy cloth, stretched the entire width of the building, with small tassels hanging from the upper edge. The pulpit was constructed of two by fours with pieces of lace pinned to the wood. There were benches to sit on, some with backs, and some without. Many of the benches were made from old crates, displaying the names of different companies. Philemon’s wife was already seated, but rushed to spread a beautiful blue shetange on the front bench, a place of great honor, next to the minister and his wife, where we were to be seated. The order of service is praise and worship, followed by the lesson for the day, collection of tithes and gifts, and finally announcements. Praise and worship was a series of proclamations followed by prayer. “God has many names. He is The Great Comforter (Amen!), The Great Healer (Amen!), The Almighty Lord of Lords (Amen!), He is whatever you need – He is the One and Only Who can satisfy all your needs (Alleluia!). One day with You, Lord, is better than a thousand without You. (Amen!)” This was followed by everyone in the congregation praying aloud, their own individual prayer of praise, thanking God for His Word and being all we need every day, all day long. Then a song – no musical instruments, just the glorious voice of the praise leader, echoed by men, women and children in perfect harmony. This succession of praise and worship continued for well over an hour, and ended when we all clapped for the Lord. This was followed by the lesson for the day. These were brief scripture readings followed by interpretation and stories to illustrate the reading. It was like a sermon and Sunday School all wrapped into one. During this time, an interpreter was brought forward, who not only translated into the local tribal language, but also mimicked the actions and inflections of the speaker. Today’s speaker was the secretary of the church. Today’s first lesson was Deuteronomy 30:19 – “Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses…Choose life so you and your descendents might live! You can make this choice by loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and committing yourself firmly to him…” There were many other readings and references to scripture, but all revolved around this first reading. Occasionally the “Amen!” was not loud enough, and the speaker’s response was “Hello?”, to which the congregation replied with a resounding “Amen!” Our final message was that God wants us be like the new wineskin (Luke 5:37), able to stretch and contain all His blessings. Don’t look for blessings and follow them; go forth and let the blessings follow you. Once again, this portion of the service lasted over an hour. Following this, two small baskets were retrieved from under the lectern by a young woman. She stood in front of the church, a basket in each hand, as each person came forward to deposit their offering. There was a beautiful little girl about six years old, in a lovely yellow dress, who walked past us after placing her offering in the basket. I thought she was returning to her seat, and then felt the gentle touch of one tiny finger on my hand. She stood next to me for several minutes, touching my hand over and over, I think fascinated by my white skin. I held her hand, she smiled, and then darted to the back of the church. Through the wood slats, we could see a small group of children outside. They were having a big discussion and pointing to where Ron and I were seated. We didn’t need to hear to know what was being said: “Did you see that? What? Those white faces! Where? There, inside the church!” They slowly crept nearer to the church, until there were three tiny faces peering between the wood slats. We smiled and waved, and they were off like a flash! We thought it was time for communion when another woman went to the side of the altar, and poured two glasses of juice and placed each on a saucer. Holding it with two hands, she very graciously presented the first to Ron with a deep curtsey, and then the second to me. We weren’t sure what to do. We looked to Philemon, who with a big smile said we were just supposed to drink it, and enjoy the refreshment! After this, Philemon was called to the altar and we were asked to stand and face the members as he introduced us. He explained the OMNI project at George, that we attend the Lutheran Church in the United States, how much he has been enjoying his time with us, and then thanked us for coming to pray with them today. After a few announcements, and another song of praise, we clapped for the Lord again, and then filed out of the church, bench by bench. As we left the church, we formed a reception line. As each person (adult and child alike) left the church, they shook hands down the line, bowing or curtseying, taking their place at the end of the line. This continued until we had greeted all sixty or more people in attendance today. Following some fellowship time in the blistering sun, we were privileged to accept Philemon’s invitation to visit his home and meet his children. We loaded the car with a half dozen people, and proceeded down the winding dirt roads to Philemon’s house. There we saw a concrete block building on a small plot of land, enclosed by a concrete fence. As we approached the doorway, we were greeted by one of the 18-month old twins, with a tiny little hand shake. The other twin started to cry when he saw us! Philemon and his wife have been married for nineteen years and have seven children in all, six boys and one girl. The oldest was not at home, but the rest ranged in age from twelve years to 18 months. The twelve year old boy had cooked nshima and relish (sauce and vegetables) over a small charcoal fire. He was busy washing hands and feeding the rest of the children as they all sat on the floor in the first room of the house. There were several rooms, and we were escorted into a room which contained a large desk, a small couch, and two chairs. We sat and talked for awhile, then went outside to see the pigeons and rabbits which they raise for food. There home has no electricity, or plumbing, but certainly contained an abundance of happy smiles. Today we were honored and privileged to be welcomed into Philemon’s church and home. God has blessed us with another good friend.

“Be strong and courageous, and do the work.” 1Chronicles 28:20

2007-08-11T11:50:00.000-07:00

Today was all about manual labor. We went to the project site, ready to begin hauling sand from our sand pit, but the diggers were still busy scraping the sand from the sides of the pit. So, we had the opportunity to see our laborers in action. There were four brick layers working on four different areas of the house, installing the face bricks over the concrete blocks. For some, the scaffolding was comprised of two stacks of blocks with a board placed precariously between the stacks. For others, there was metal piping which had been welded together, with boards balancing between the pipe “ladders”. One man’s job was to make sure there were no protrusions on the bricks, and he would knock off any uneven edges with the edge of a hammer. The mortar was all mixed by hand, and then shoveled into a wheelbarrow. One of the men wheeled the mortar between the different work stations, depositing a shovel-full of mortar onto the wooden scaffolding as was needed. Each brick layer would scoop the mortar onto his trowel, smooth it over the brick already in place, lay the new brick on top, tap it into place, then use a level to make sure all was even. There was a separate production taking place in the rear of the house, at the hole for the septic. They were also mixing cement by hand, turning the mixture over and over with their shovels. They mix bags of the cement with stone, sand and water. The water is pumped from the bore hole across the site into huge barrels, about four feet high and two feet in diameter. Each barrel is then rolled to the work area, tipped on its side, or sometimes even picked up to pour the water into the cement mixture. Once the cement was mixed, it was shoveled into wheelbarrows and dropped into the deep, deep hole for the septic. Once several loads of cement were deposited, one of the men would climb the ladder to the bottom of the hole. The ladder is handmade as well, crudely fashioned out of wood strips nailed together. The man elected to be in the bottom of the hole was the only one with rubber boots. All the other men were barefoot or wearing flip-flops. So, he would climb to the bottom, and they would toss a shovel down to him, and it was his job to distribute the cement evenly over the bottom, wading through the heavy cement. This process was repeated until 8” of cement covered the bottom of the pit.
Then began our challenge. Just driving into the sand pit takes a bit of courage. The passageway is of course, full of craters and the sides are being peeled away by the sand diggers. The sand is soft and moist, making the way slippery and similar to being on snow covered roadways. And of course, there are always other trucks parked along the way, loading up with sand, having left only inches to be able to pass by! Once we have negotiated our way into the pit, and backed into our designated area, the back breaking work of shoveling the sand into the truck began. Thankfully, my job is that of photographer! Today, there were two sand diggers, Ron and Godwin on site to load approximately ten tons of sand into the truck, and then unload it all at the construction site. This was two trips in and out of the pit, holding our breath all the while. The men here work hard, and without complaint, even though most have no shoes or only flip-flops to wear, and have walked quite a long distance to come to work. And they are so very, very strong. Even those slight of frame are able to carry the heaviest of loads. Today’s work came to a brief standstill, when Ron’s age was revealed. The shovels stopped and there was a brief moment of silence, followed by the typical Zambian exclamations of surprise. “Aye!” and “Shuuure!” They were amazed that a man of 65 years was able to do this work. Godwin, who is 49 years old, said that in Zambia by the time you reach 65 you are very old, unable to work, and oftentimes must be fed by someone else or starve! Now it was Godwin asking Ron “to what do you attribute your strength?”

“…Don’t be afraid. Just have faith and she will be healed.” Luke 8:50

2007-08-10T11:53:00.000-07:00

Our day began at Kasongo, where we returned to assist with recasting Violet and Peter’s club feet. Faithful Friedah was ready and waiting when we arrived. We were happy to see Peter wearing his shoe/boot Dr. Steve had given him, and Violet was using her crutches. The casts were in much better condition than previous weeks, and there was marked improvement for both children, but especially for Violet. The alignment of her little feet was much straighter, and she complained that the ball of her foot hurt sometimes. She has been walking on her toes, and not the side of her foot! Friedah was so excited to share this wonderful news with us.
We also learned from Friedah that Bridget had a prescription from the hospital which needed to be filled. We said we would go into to town to the drug store, but she said there was no need for that long drive. We could go to the drug store at Twapia, which is much closer. Twapia is the community across the street from George, which is where the neighboring compounds do their shopping. Believe me, you haven’t shopped until you’ve shopped at Twapia! Friedah directed us to the parking lot, a small area in front of the lines of stores, where a few vehicles were randomly parked, avoiding the huge craters and the sharp stones protruding from the dirt. Then we were off walking. Down narrow passageways, between small stands constructed of rugged timbers, cardboard roofs, and when needed, doorways covered with empty cement bags stitched together. It was difficult to take in all our surroundings as we walked, because we had to watch our every step. The pathway is uneven with mounds of stones, and small dirt craters similar to those on the roadways, and every so often there was a small puddle to step over. We passed tomatoes, greens, fish, clothing, shoes, household items, lace, hardware – anything you could possibly want. It was the fourth drug store that finally had the Amoxycillin we were looking for. I was amazed that there were four drug stores in Twapia! But they aren’t like the drug stores in the U.S. The drug store was maybe 5’ x 10’, constructed out of old scraps of wood, and the front painted yellow with the words “Drug Store” etched on the front. Inside there were about five wooden shelves with a few over-the-counter medicines and even fewer prescription medications. Most of the medicines were for malaria, fever, and deworming. Then I saw the prescription the hospital had written. Friedah produced a small scrap of paper which contained Bridget’s name, the medication, and the dosage. The young woman behind the counter filled a small plastic bag with the pills, and returned the prescription to Friedah. Ron soon appeared with a small bag of treats. While we were in the drug store, he had found his way to a woman cooking fritters over a small charcoal fire. They are a sweet dough, deep fried, which cost only 200 kwacha each (about 5 cents). Hot off the fire, and so delicious!
Then we were off to the Rotary meeting in town. Once again we received a very warm welcome, as each member greets us with a smile and that distinctive Zambian handshake. We took the laptop with us today so the members could see the progress at the building site. They were happy to see the face bricks being installed on the building, a sure sign of progress. Mr. Sharma, our Zambian angel here on earth, received a well deserved round of applause as he was recognized for providing warehouse storage, and continuing to provide transportation for the cement. Every time we visit Rotary, someone volunteers to help in some way. Today, Martin, from the Times of Zambia committed to printing an article about the OMNI project.

"Three things will last forever - faith, hope, and love - and the greatest of these is love." 1Corinthians 13:13

2007-08-09T11:37:00.001-07:00

Last Friday, at the Rotary meeting, one of the guests in attendance was the Postmaster General. We told him that we had yet to receive any of the packages mailed to us, he took our information, and within a couple of hours we received a call that one of the packages had been located. We went to the post office Saturday to retrieve the package, but were told since the value was listed as $100 it had to be opened by a custom’s official. If it had been valued at less than $100, we could have just taken it with us. Monday being the Farmer’s Day Holiday, we went first thing Tuesday morning to meet with the customs official. We soon learned that our package was being held for $65 ransom! We were glad to receive the package from home, but have learned the valuable lesson to always value packages at less than $100. But, I have a feeling that policy probably changes with each package delivered. We also renewed our passports for one more month. Unbelievably, this was this simplest, easiest thing we have done since arriving in Zambia. We went to the immigration office, the officer asked how he could help us, we said we’d like to stay another month, stamp, stamp – and we were done!
Then we were off to Garneton again, to spend another day with the container. We picked up Teddy on the way, and were grateful that he met us at the roadside in front of George, saving us the tortuous drive down that crater filled roadway! Ron, Teddy and I loaded the truck with the remaining shoes, chalkboard, steel building - everything except the 33’ beams, one generator and a few tools that might still be needed at the container. There were crates which had to be pried open with crow bars. But the boxes inside the crates just disintegrated, having been eaten away by some very industrious termites, leaving bolts and nuts and other small pieces in the bottom of the crate, all mixed with the termite dust. Teddy hopped inside one crate, sifting through the dust, until he located each and every bolt, nut, and screw. I must have swept at least 50 pounds of termite dust out of the container, knocking down their tunneling as I went. Teddy scavenged some pieces of heavier cardboard to repair the roof of his home at George. We tied down the truck, and on our way again. We were flagged down by a man on the dirt road near the farm, asking for a job. A brief argument in Bemba ensued, as Teddy explained we did not have any jobs for hire, but the man refused to believe him. As always it’s such a pleasure talking with Teddy during the drive. We learned that his favorite subject in college is psychology, he was elected as union steward at his dormitory (he’s in charge when the matron is gone), the dormitory is several kilometers from the campus, he shares a room with five other men, there is a cafeteria where the students do all their own cooking (yes, they cook nshima and kapenta), and they must be in their rooms by 7pm or they will be disciplined. Also during the drive home, once again, Ron attracted the attention of an officer at a police check point. The officer only wanted to have a little fun I guess, as he asked to see Ron’s driving permit. When he saw the international permit he laughingly asked just how many countries Ron is permitted to drive in, then waved us on. There was also a near miss with a pedestrian, as an elderly man who had apparently been drinking, stepped right in front of the truck. The brakes screeched, Ron laid on the horn, and the man stepped back just in time. There was a long period of silence, as all our hearts were pounding after that.
Wednesday, back to George, this time to pick up Teddy and Rodrick, as the last of the steel beams at the container would require a lot of muscle. There were 16 beams which when loaded on the truck, extended out the back about four feet, and over the roof of the truck nearly seven feet. They cut a few 2x4’s with the leatherman, nailed them together in an “L”, and used this to secure the portion of the beams at the rear of the truck. The rope was tied over and under and every which way they could, they fastened pieces of red cloth to the front and back of the beams, and even used some of the iridescent pink duct tape. It was a slow drive back to George, but the beams remained secure. And now, it is with great joy we can say, the container is empty. Hallelujah! Back home, after a long hard day, and the power was out, and stayed out until after bedtime. And when it’s dark here, it’s really dark! And no bath again – oh well!
Thursday is the usual day for the power to be out – hoping not tonight again! Today much of the day was spent at George. The huge iron gates which enclose the George School yard, needed to be repaired. The hinges were broken, wired together as a temporary fix, but very dangerous, especially with so many children around. We located a welder across the way, at Twapia who said he could do the job. William is a very pleasant man, speaks English, and has the warmest smile you can imagine. We drove to his welding shop, and were a little confused when we saw the sign “bananas for sale”. Then we saw the archaic welding equipment at the corner of the store. Dual professions are not unusual in the communities here. He is a welder who sells bananas, and also happens to be the chairman of Twapia (similar to a mayor in the U.S.)! The gates were removed from George, loaded on the truck, and taken to Twapia for William to weld. Removing the gates proved to be very difficult due to a lot of rust on the bolts, which looked as though it had been there for centuries. Teddy, Ron and Godwin drew quite a crowd as they worked together using crescent wrenches, channel locks, a hammer, a chisel, a crow bar, a hacksaw, and a little bit of oil to loosen and remove the bolts. We watched as William sat on the frame of a child’s school chair, no back or seat on the chair, put on a pair of sunglasses and began welding.
We feasted on bananas for lunch today (2 kg for K2,000), and drove to Kasongo while William completed the welding job. Bridget was released from the hospital yesterday, and we visited her in her home, wanting to make sure all was well. She was all smiles, and feeling much, much better. In fact, she is totally well according to her aunt. We asked about the baby, and she peeled back the layers of blankets and shetanges to reveal his sweet little face, sound asleep. We asked if the baby had a name yet. Another huge smile. His name is Ron.

"The Lord has done great things for us and we are filled with joy." Psalm 126:3

2007-08-06T08:22:00.000-07:00

It was a day of great joy. When we arrived at the project site the men were mixing the cement, scaling the scaffolding, and beginning the final course of brick on the house. Mr. Banda was there as well, supervising the work. We watched as one of the workers used a hand drill, the kind you turn round and round, to make a hole in one of the boards being used for scaffolding.
Incredible! The hole was perfect, and complete in only a few seconds. This house is being built the way our ancestors worked so many years ago, and it is amazing to witness. Hard working, strong men, working together - everything done by hand. There are no machines, no electricity, no battery operated anything - it's 100% manpower.
We walked into George and found Teddy busy working at his pedal sewing machine in front of his home. He was sewing cloth to be used for chairs which we have seen for sale by the roadside. They are known as "lazy man chairs", because they are low to the ground and meant for lounging. He said he would later construct the wood frames as well. So, now we know Teddy as school teacher, child advocate, tailor and carpenter. But we were there to pick him up for another trip to Garneton for another load from the container. It was a very enjoyable ride, talking with Teddy all the way. We were scolded by school teacher Teddy for not studying our Bemba dictionary to learn more words! We also laughed at a few misunderstood words, and the fact that we have difficulty understanding each other's accents. But the best part of our journey was just spending time with Teddy, who has become such a dear friend. Teddy spent a great deal of time educating us on the Zambian culture, especially in regards to marriage. It seems that a young man may choose his own bride. Once the woman consents, the marriage must be approved by both parents, and the maternal uncles. The maternal uncle actually has more authority in family matters, because there is no doubt that he is a blood relative. Once the parents of the groom approve of the potential wife, a negotiator meets with the family of the bride. He must bring 10,000 kwacha (about $2.50) on a white plate with white powder from a tuber (something like a potato). The money shows good faith and the ability to provide for the new bride, and the white plate and powder are symbolic of their trust and purity of heart. The bride's family negotiates for the best "price" for their daughter, listing all of her best qualities - her beauty is great, she is an excellent cook and housekeeper, she is educated, etc. The negotiator's job is to not surrender more of the groom's family assets than necessary. So, maybe they will settle on another 20,000 kwacha and a goat. In the cities, only money is exchanged - no goods or livestock. After a short time, they will then be married, usually in a small ceremony at a church. If after some time, the groom's family decides the marriage is not good, the couple must separate. Maybe the mother-in-law and the bride do not get along. Then the marriage is off, and the groom's family will receive back the initial 10,000 kwacha investment. Whatever else was included in the dowry is kept by the bride's family.
We did make it to Garneton and loaded the truck, with only the steel building and some tools remaining in the container. That will be a project. Too bad the building is longer than the truck! We called Foster as we were passing through Kitwe, and met up with him at the BP Station. There are still mechanical problems with the old vehicle which he has been trying to resolve, but he will be in Ndola tomorrow. It was good to see him after a week.
As we were driving the long road from Kitwe to Ndola, we passed a bus stopped alongside the edge of the road. Not an unusual occurrence, except the driver was hanging out the window and waving like mad. Yes, we recognized this man and pulled over right away. By this time, Lingo, our bus driver while the team was here, was running down the side of the road. He gave us big hugs, and although we could only talk for a minute, it was such a nice surprise to see him again.
Our last stop for the day was at Ndola Central Hospital to check on Bridget. She is still having pain, but is feeling much better. Communication was difficult, as she only speaks Bemba, but one of the nurses translated for us. It was good to see Bridget smile as we were leaving.
One other update I failed to mention last week: baby Frederick was discharged from the malnutrition ward at Children's Hospital last week. His weight was up where it should be, and he went home with Mom. Another happy ending!

"Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might..." Ecclesiastes 9:10

2007-08-05T10:05:00.001-07:00

Saturday, we finally took possession of the long awaited cement! It is more precious than gold! Monday was the last day there was any work at the project site due to the lack of cement. The septic was dug, waiting for cement. One last course of bricks was needed on the house before roofing could begin. Our dear friend, Mr. Sharma from Ndola Rotary, had arranged for a semi from Zimbabwe to pick up our packets of cement on Monday. On Monday there was no diesel for the truck to make the trip to Ndola. On Tuesday and Wednesday our paperwork mysteriously disappeared, but some of the staff at the cement company suggested an additional fee might help them relocate our order. Brown Banda, our contractor, was at Chilanga Cement daily, trying to get the process through. Finally our truck was in the queue (the very long line waiting) on Thursday. The next delay came from the government. Railroad trucks working for the government were given preferential treatment, and allowed to advance their position in the line. Our driver spent all night in line, and finally they began loading the truck late Friday. However, trucks cannot leave the yard after dark, so he spent one more night at the cement yard. We received the call early Saturday from Mr. Banda to meet at his yard to begin the long, hard process of transferring 300 bags of cement, each weighing 50kg (over 100 lbs) from the semi to our truck. Ron and five of the laborers from the George project site spent the next several hours unloading the semi, loading the OMNI truck, and then unloading the cement again. It was quite the sight to witness. Two trucks, side-by-side, and they dropped down one side of each truck. Two men climbed onto the semi load, and the rest onto the OMNI truck. The two heaved the heavy bags onto our truck, and the rest stacked them in neat rows, five across and two or three deep, until there were eighty bags on the truck. Then the long drive back to George, on the bumpy, crater filled roadyways, men standing in the back of the truck on top of the cement, and the truck feeling the weight of the load all the way. Once at George, our wood storage shed was opened, and they began the tedious task of unloading the bags and stacking them to the top of the shed. The strength of these men is incredible, young and old alike. Each one tackling a bag, some carrying on their shoulder, some against their chest, and some on top of their head. Our shed is inadequate for storing that much cement, so 160 bags were stored there, and the rest locked in a storage trailer at Mr. Banda's yard. But each and every bag had to be off loaded from the semi, loaded onto our truck, and then off loaded again. And the process will have to be repeated once the storage shed is empty, in about two weeks. I don't know when I ever saw a group of men work so hard, and without stopping. And they are always smiling. Happy to work hard, working with all their might. When asked, they attribute their strength to God, and eating lots of nshima! The men cooked nshima, rape, and kapenta for lunch. There was a pot of hot nshima, you just dip in with your fingers to get some and roll it into a little ball (with one hand), and then dip it into the greens. There was bread today, so the kapenta was scooped up in the bread to make a sandwich. Once again, the men gladly shared their meal with Ron. In fact, Godwin suggested Ron might want to eat more nshima to build up more strength! Every man washes thoroughly before their midday meal, washing not only their hands and arms, but their faces and the fronts of their trousers. For those of you who are wondering, no I did not eat the kapenta! Maybe one day I'll find the courage, but I doubt it!
Today we worshiped at The Anglican Cathedral of the Holy Nativity in town. When we drove in we were warmly greeted by the Very Rev. Sam Zulu. His vestments were not what we are used to in the United States. His appearance was striking, in bright green with a traditional African print. The service was a blend of what we're used to and what we were hoping to experience. The order of service was basically the same as our Lutheran church, but the delivery incoroporated the beautiful music of Zambia, the strong harmony of the congregation, portions of the service in Bemba, and a few spontaneous cries for joy. At the end of the service we were invited to the front, introduced by Rev. Zulu, and welcomed by the congregation in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit - which consisted of three distinct, loud claps from everyone. Today's message was about interdependence. God placed us all here to work together, sharing our gifts, helping one another, loving one another, and serving one another. We can do so much more if we work together than separately. He likened it to when you start a fire. You don't take just one piece of charcoal and expect that one piece to burn strong enough and long enough to heat your room, cook your meal, or keep the lions and hyenas away. You need many pieces of charcoal, burning strong and brightly together.

“The ways of right-living people glow with light; the longer they live, the brighter they shine…” Proverbs 4:18

2007-08-03T14:14:00.000-07:00

Friedah's light shines brighter each and every day. I truly believe she is an angel on earth, sent by God to look after the Kasongo Community. Today we went to Kasongo to help Friedah with recasting Violet and Peter's club feet. But she wasn't there. So we called someone in the community, and very soon she came running down the dusty path. She said she was attending to a young woman who had given birth yesterday and was experiencing difficulty, and would we please come right away. As we drove down the bumpy path she explained that there had been twins, but one had died. They thought he died probably two weeks earlier, but had remained in the womb. The other baby boy had initially had difficulty nursing, but that seemed to be resolved today. The mother, Bridget, was having severe abdominal pain, bleeding and some other problems. And now we were at their home. We entered a tiny, dark space. Once our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we could see we were standing in a well-kept living area. There were bits of lace hanging from the stone walls, and a small rug in the doorway. There were a few plastic cups hanging near the window, and a somewhat battered chair in the corner. We were asked to pass through a sheet which covered the doorway to the bedroom. There was a small bucket of charcoal burning in the center of the small room, a few hooks with clothes on them, and a mattress on the floor with a young woman sitting on it, and an elderly woman cradling a tiny baby wrapped in shetanges and a crocheted blanket. Friedah introduced us to Bridget in Bemba, and we began the discussion of the situation and the need for her to see a doctor. Bridget refused transport to the hospital, just wanting us to give her medicine. We explained we are not doctors or nurses and we didn't have the medicine to give to her, and that she needed to be seen by a doctor. She refused. The more Friedah spoke, the more emphatically Bridget shook her head no. And so we had to leave, fearing the worst for Bridget. We told her we would be happy to transport her if she changed her mind. So, we had to leave her, and went back to cast Violet and Peter. The castings went well, and both children are now smiling when they see us. Peter even offered to share his lollipop with Ron! But, as usual, Violet appeared without her crutches, or the plastic leg braces Dr. Steve had fitted her with. So, Friedah announced that Violet would be spending days in her care, only returning home to her mother to sleep. This way, Friedah said she could better care for her and ensure she is wearing the braces and using the crutches. If you will recall, Friedah already cares for six orphaned children. Friedah's love, and her capacity to share it are endless. We talked a great deal about Bridget and her reluctance to seek medical care, and Friedah agreed to continue checking on her and talking with her. There were also several people in the village with severe wounds Friedah wanted to tend to, so we returned later in the afternoon with antibiotic ointment and other supplies after our other appointments. One of our meetings was with the Ndola Rotary, and there we spoke with Dr. Faschi, and explained the situation. He explained the proper procedure - take Bridget to the nearest government clinic and they would give a letter of referral to take her to Ndola Central Hospital because they would not have the facilities to help her. When we returned to Kasongo, Friedah was waiting for us. She said she had a serious talk with Bridget, but the deciding factor was Bridget's uncle. In Zambian culture, the uncle is in charge. Friedah spoke with the uncle, and he told Bridget she was going with us to see a doctor. We drove the aunt, Bridget and the new baby, and Friedah first to Twapia to the government clinic where they confirmed Bridget has a serious infection; and then to the hospital. This was when I had my best, most selfish moments of the day - when I was able to hold this beautiful one day old baby boy (not yet named). But the hospital is so different than anything I have ever seen. My heart ached, wishing there was somewhere else we could take them. The wheelchair Bridget was in didn't have footrests, it had a piece of rope tied across the bottom that she tried to balance her feet on, but they still scraped across the floor. We saw another wheechair fashioned from a white plastic stackable lawn chair. The hallways were dark and didn't look especially clean. But the nursing staff was very attentive, all appearing in bright white starched uniforms, and very professional. There was a sheet on the bed which didn't quite cover the whole bed. One of the nurses brought in a blanket for Bridget. The baby stays with mom since she is nursing. Bridget had carried in some torn shetanges to use as diapers for the baby. There is no food for patients at the hospital, and by now it was nearly 7pm. We found a kiosk open in front of the hospital, and bought some food, juice and water. We drove Friedah and the aunt back to Kasongo, and gave them kwacha to take public transportation to the hospital, and Friedah will call us. In fact, Friedah did call us. She borrowed someone's phone just to make sure we got home safely. This is how Friedah's light shines so brightly - she never stops caring for her neighbors and friends. There is never the slightest hesitation on her part. She never had a second thought about coming with Bridget - her only thought was to care for Bridget and her baby. And this is how God blessed our lives today.
Today was the last day of school at George for this term. Next term begins September 3rd, and Ms. Masumba said the children didn't want school to end. They are loving their new desks and chairs so much, they said they didn't want to miss a whole month!
Sorry there was not a blog entry for yesterday, but power was out here. We got home yesterday at 6pm, and the power was out at 6:15. The worst part is that when the power is out, there is no water either. So, no bath last night. Being clean is all relative - we brushed the dust off, and all was well! A good part of yesterday was spent driving to and from Garneton, emptying the container. Let's pack lighter weight boxes next time! We also had our first experience shopping in the local market, purchasing kapenta, beans and ground nuts to deliver to our precious little Annie today.
Signing off for now. It's after midnight, and our days begin early. Missing you all, but loving it here.

"Carry each other's burdens..." Galatians 6:2

2007-08-01T11:32:00.000-07:00

Today we had a huge burden lifted, when Mr. Sharma of the Ndola Rotary donated a huge warehouse space for OMNI to use for storage! This was in answer to many, many prayers. The warehouse is on the other side of town, in the industrial area. We were able to remove everything which had filled the car port at Setanga Lodge. We backed the truck right into the warehouse (which is about 30x70), and as is customary in Zambia, several men working nearby came to help unload the truck. Many hands made the job of unloading and stacking so much easier. Even in loading the truck at Setanga, the guard, yard man, and two of the housekeepers helped. No one says a word, you just turn around to pick up another duffle, and there they are, carrying our boxes, bags and duffles. We are so grateful to all who eagerly come to our aid, without being asked. What a blessing they are. This is just one of the ways we witness Christ each and every day while we are here. Humble, strong, and compassionate people.
And we can't forget to mention that Ron's Optique is still operating! There were three satisfied customers today! While unloading the truck, one of our helpers, a dishevelled elderly man, whose shirt was torn away from the collar, noticed the eyeglasses, and asked if we might be able to help him see better. No sooner said, than done, and Ron had the eyeglass station operating in the doorway of the warehouse.
As we were driving down the bumpy, crater filled roadway we passed a group collecting water from a pump. One of the ladies asked if we could give them a lift. Soon there was about a dozen or more young and old women, and children in the back of the truck, heaving their heavy pails and buckets of water over the side rail. As the truck took off, bumping all the way, there was much laughter from the back as they were so excited to have a ride. The drive to the main road was quite some distance, and then we drove them into their compound a short distance to their doorstep. Lots of smiles (from them and us), and many thanks. The young girls couldn't wait to tell their waiting girlfriends, and there was lots of giggling. Ron helped one of the women take the water filled container from the truck, and nearly dropped it, it was so heavy. We can't imagine the daily trips they must make just to get water. As we drove away, lots of waves and smiles as always, but it really touched our hearts when an elderly man clapped his hands, bowed and thanked us for bringing the women back in the truck. We didn't realize the value of this truck when it was purchased.
Once we had the warehouse space, our original plan was to drive to the container in Garneton and bring a load back. But, as you well know, nothing progresses as planned here. We stopped for fuel, and there was none - anywhere! We would drive past the stations slowly, and they would motion us on. So, we didn't have enough fuel for a round trip, and we really didn't want to sleep in the container tonight, so we took the full load from Setanga instead. Debbie has been most gracious to allow us this convenience, and we were happy to free-up her space again. When we returned to Setanga, there was actually a car in the car port!
Today was my first day driving the Land Cruiser, solo. Help!!! Or maybe the other drivers are crying help when they see me. I'm not ashamed to say, it is a challenge to drive on the opposite side of the road, in a vehicle larger than I'm used to, and on narrow roads with people walking and riding bicycles on both sides of the road who apparently don't know they should run like the wind when they see me coming! I have a greater appreciation (and admiration) for Ron driving the stick shift truck.
Thanks for all your prayers, and comments on the blog site - keep them coming!

"God blesses those who mourn..." Matthew 5:4

2007-07-31T10:29:00.000-07:00

Today began unlike any other day. It was a day of privelege, honor, love, and tremendous respect. Godwin, Mr. Chairman at George Compound, requested assistance with the funeral of an elderly woman. Nyumbu Nyamusangu was 76 years old, and we were told died of stomach pains. We arrived at George to find men dressed in suits and ties, and women in their best shetanges. The ladies of the church soon appeared, wearing white blouses and shetanges bearing the name of their church, New Apostolic, and white headdresses with crosses etched on the back. They came from behind one of the buildings, carrying the coffin and singing most reverently. The coffin was a narrow box, covered in green velvet, with four gold keys on top. The ladies gently slid the coffin onto the back of the truck, gathered flowers from those standing nearby, and about forty mourners, mostly family, friends, and preachers from the community gathered round the coffin in back of the truck for the trek to Ndola General Hospital. There was continual singing during the drive into town. Beautiful voices, harmonizing their beliefs that death will not separate us, but we will all be joined together in heaven with Jesus, another day, another time. When we reached the hospital, nearly everyone exited the truck. Ron and I along with Godwin, six church ladies, and one relative drove to the very rear of the hospital - an area dark and puddled with water, and there we entered the bowels of the hospital. While Godwin and another man carried the coffin into the building through a tiny entrance, the ladies put on exam gloves. We were escorted into a waiting area, where others were gathered near another coffin. The odor took my breath away for a moment. It was pungent and unlike anything I have ever known. Very soon we were taken into the morgue along with the others. I watched, as the other group identified their loved one. And then our group. Afterwards, they went into a large room which had two tables, a sink, and large plastic tubs. Godwin explained the ladies from church would wash the body and dress Nyumbu in preparation for burial. This was their gift to Nyumbu and her family. A profound display of love and respect. By this time, there were five additional coffins in the waiting area, and the hallway was crowded with those waiting. I felt like I was watching all of this from far away, that it couldn't be really happening. And I found my way to the outside, only to be asked by the relative to return to take one last photograph of Nyumbu. One last remembrance. It was a great privelege, although I will admit my hands were shaking a bit. She was dressed and powdered, gently placed in the coffin, and then lovingly wrapped in a blanket. As we returned to the truck, it was discovered we had a flat tire. So we had to leave most everyone at the hospital and drive to the repair shop to have the spare put on. It was a short delay, as when the workers saw the coffin, they worked very quickly so as to not delay the funeral. We returned to the hospital to pick up everyone, and began the drive to the cemetery. Godwin explained that if someone dies when they are at the hospital burial is at a different cemetery than if someone dies at home. Once again, there was constant singing for the entire drive to the cemetery. And it was a long drive out of town to Kantolomda, to the cemetery on the hill. And we followed the others we had seen at the hospital. We made a long processional of trucks overloaded with grieving families and carrying coffins, and bus after bus carrying more family and friends. We know that life is so very fragile here in Zambia, but it was still shocking to see hundreds, and hundreds of people gathered at so many grave sites at the cemetery. Then the mourning truly began. It was not crying, although there were many tears, it was heart wrenching, from the soul, wailing. The ladies from the church helped and comforted the family. The coffin was placed under a tree, and everyone gathered nearby. Most of the women sat on the ground, while the men remained standing. The church choir, with ten of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard, sang several songs. The first preacher began the service (in Bemba) by reading John 11, of how Lazarus was raised from the dead. A second minister translated everything into another tribal variation of Bemba. He also read Romans 6:14 "Sin is no longer your master, for you no longer live under the requirements of the law. Instead, you live under the freedom of God's grace." Two more ministers read from the Bible, and spoke for some time. The choir sang many beautiful songs, and then it was time to pay final respects to the deceased. The top portion of the coffin was folded back to revela Nyumbu's face, and the ministers ushered the mourners past. Many made the sign of the cross, many spoke words we didn't understand, but we didn't need to - their meaning was clear. Once the last mourner had passed, the gold keys were turned by the ministers to seal the coffin. During the service, several men from the community had dug the grave with pick axes and shovels. The coffin was placed on top of the soil next to the grave, and the preachers and choir continued with the service. Then several of the men lowered the coffin into the grave, and one of the ministers took a shovel full of soil. Each of the preachers spoke, took a handful of soil and deposited it in the grave. Then the men began filling the grave with the soil. This too is a gift, and many men took part in this ceremony to show their deep respect for Nyumbu. They carefully mounded the soil, and the ladies from New Apostolic Church surrounded the grave and removed any stones, roots or twigs which remained - once more, displaying their love and respect. One of the ministers now began reading names, and as each name was called, the person came forward to place flowers on the grave. It was a great honor that we were included in this ceremony. I was given a flower to place on Nyumbu's grave. We were most graciously thanked during the conclusion of the ceremony. It was truly an honor and a privelege. This is something we will never forget. We have so much to learn... Some images I will never forget - the minister's solemn respect, the man standing tall and proud dressed in his best suit with the sleeves too long and his shirt collar frayed beyond recognition, and the church ladies who cared for this woman and her family so very dearly. "Comfort, comfort my people, says our God." Isaiah 40:1

"Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands..." Psalm 90:17

2007-07-30T11:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we spent most of the day organizing items left in the car port at Setanga, and searching for items to complete our cottage kitchen. What a wonderful surprise to find two plastic bins lovingly packed by our team, complete with notes and all the essentials we would need. Thank you team! Your love notes on the duct tape were especially appreciated. And so begins the latest challenge of preparing meals at the cottage. We have a pot to heat water in, but the plug is not compatible with any outlets or any converters we have. Apparently the oven does not operate, but the burners do...sort of. Only forty-five minutes to heat a cup of water! Maybe we'll try cooking over an open fire instead. We are so spoiled! So far we have managed to cook two dinners and breakfast - we're on a roll!
Today was a day full of errands and details. Ron left early to pick up Philemon on the way to retrieve the last two loads of stone needed at the building site. Since each load takes only about four hours to pick up and deliver, that consumed their day. Interesting to hear about their delays though - waiting for the truck at the front of the line at the scales that could only go in reverse, being run off the road by a semi, and the bicyclist who lost control on the bad road and was swerving in and out of traffic. All in all, an uneventful day for Ron and Philemon!
Meanwhile, Foster and I spent the day fixing our second flat tire, delivering milk to George School, banking, purchased food at the markets for Gift, Tammy, and Piet, met with Mr. Chiti of the Rotary and Pyramid Brushware which will construct the furniture for the home under construction, post office, etc. I just love the children at George, they are always happy to see us and always so polite and repsectful. When I walked into the classroom this morning, all the children stood up and said "Good morning madame," then huge smiles from everyone (especially Piet). Our last round for the day was the delivery to Gift, Tammy and Piet's home at Twapia. Home here takes on a whole new meaning, as they have shelter, but there are no amenities there. Gift is so very tall now, and looking like quite the young man with a most beautiful smile. This was the first I have met their mother, Florence. She greeted us warmly, and made sure there were seats for Foster, Ms. Masumba and myself. She turned over a tin wash tub and covered it with a shetange for me to sit on, Ms. Masumba sat on the edge of a tire covered with cloth, and Foster on a make-shift stool. She was very gracious, has the same beautiful smile as the boys, and was younger than I expected.
This evening Foster left via public transport for Kitwe, to retrieve the other OMNI car which has been being repaired. It was getting late, so he ended up driving in a round-about way to the bus depot. We waited to make sure he was able to find a bus to Kitwe. It was comical to see Foster hanging out the window of the bus, yelling "I'm OK Ron, I'm on the bus!" as the bus went flying past. Only problem was that then we had to find our way back to Setanga. Foster's instructions were to just keep going left. Well, we went left one too many times, but made it back safely. We did witness a terrible tragedy this evening, as there was an accident involving a pedestrian which appeared to be fatal. Life is so very fragile here.

Ten were healed, and one returned to give thanks and glory to God. Luke 17:11-19

2007-07-29T04:08:00.000-07:00

Sorry so many days have passed since the last posting. While our days continue to be eventful, the internet proves to be a continuing obstacle in communicating. To date, we have been unable to read any of the comments posted on the blog. And, just to prove this difficulty, I spent the last hour connecting to this site, typing the entry, and then got booted off, with nothing saved. So, please be patient, as we try to keep you updated.
There was another encounter with the Zambia Police...hope this is not becoming a daily event! It seems the truck was not properly registered for hauling, and so the truck was impounded and Ron, Steve and Philemon were all detained at a check point while hauling stone to the construction site. After some time, they finally released them to deliver the load, with the promise they would return later that day. This consideration was apparently granted due to Ron's age! God granted us the great miracle of shortening the usual two days to process this registration, but it still extended into the next day. Ron spent a sleepless night, fearing the police would pick him up since he didn't return as promised. But, Foster and Ron went directly to the station after completing the registration and inspection, phoned Inspector John (our guard for the OMNI team), and after some discussion John was able to arrange total forgiveness. God is good!
We continue checking on baby Frederick at the malnutrition ward at Children's Hospital. He is now able to sit up, and even extended his tiny littly hand to greet Karen! His progress is tremendous, and we thank God that full recovery is in sight.
We had an unexpected and very welcome visit from our dear friend Pastor Osward. We were all very glad to see him looking so well and enjoyed our time with him. We learned that his wife, Clair is expecting, and in fact one week overdue! So, Ron and Steve drove Osward all the way home (in the Land Cruiser), into the deep, deep bush past Agape, with the final leg of the journey on a very narrow path. Unfortunately, there is one less chicken in the world after that journey! Its hard to imagine what Pastor Osward went through to make the trip to Ndola; many miles on a bicycle, then walking many miles and part way on public transportation. Steve and Ron were gone over five hours driving - I wonder how long it took Osward. Clair was fine when they arrived, but very grateful to have Osward home.
Friday, Ron spent the entire day at the construction site, working alongside the men there. This was a great experience, as he was digging the septic, climbing the scaffolding, working on top of the building etc., and also able to get to know some of the men from George. He was honored when they invited him to join in their lunch of nshima (corn meal cooked with water) and kapenta (tiny whole fish). He ate well, and said it was quite good! Glad there were no grilled mice in the offering! The rest of us went to Kasongo for Steve and Karen to recast Violet and Peter, the two children with club feet. This was the last opportunity to teach myself and Friedah this procedure. Friedah is a very lovely woman from the village who has taken on the responsibility of caring for their medical needs. In addition, she cares for six orphans in her home. The castings went well, and Violet who is five years old announced that she is no longer afraid of the white faces, but knows we are her friends. Quite an accomplishment! While we were there, and elderly woman named Helen came to greet us. She had been treated in the clinic last week, and walked quite a distance to say thank you. She had ulcers on her leg and had been unable to walk. She likened it to the Bible story in Luke where Jesus healed ten lepers, but only one returned to give thanks. Very humbling!
We will miss Steve and Karen, as they left yesterday for the U.S. We are praying for their safe and uneventful journey. Our mission for Saturday was to pick up and deliver four loads of sand to the construction site, from the sand pit on our
property. But, each day continues to be an adventure. The first load was good. Drove into the sand pit, over a narrow passage (why is every passage here so narrow?), the men shoveled the sand in, back to the site and unloaded. Back into the pit for the second load. Almost loaded, when another truck pulls in and gets stuck. So, they push and shovel away more of the already narrow passageway until the truck is able to pull forward some. So, we are facing a very narrow sandy path with little room to pass the other truck. Their advice to Ron is "just go fast". Once again, we begin praying without ceasing, and make it out. But that's the end for now, as the road is currently closed to the sand pit. Wonder what tomorrow will bring.

It's remedial Bemba for one of the crew!

2007-07-28T13:45:00.000-07:00

Unbeknownst to the rest of the team, June decided that a quick course in remedial Bemba might do just the trick. Go June!!!

"And the angel of God...gave light by night." Exodus 14:19-20

2007-07-25T21:43:00.000-07:00

And so we continued to wait...one more hour. Steve, Karen and Foster bought food stuffs for George School. They picked up one of our teachers, Ms. Masumba, and drove her home to store the food, then back to the school. Karen waited with us as the others drove back to the school. As we waited we saw Georgina, the little girl from last week who had been the victim of abuse. She was very happy to see us, and she was looking much better. We will need to keep our eyes open to make sure she stays safe.
Then we begin the long trip to Garneton, to empty a load from our container which remains at the farm. It is late in the day, and Ron has only driven the truck a short distance, and the roads are a bit narrow. But we move on, having asked Foster to drive slowly so we can follow. But very soon Foster pulls over and requests more speed, due to the time factor. It is nerve racking, but Ron makes it all the way to Kitwe. In our haste to keep pace with Foster, shift gears, etc. we pass through a red light and are pulled over by traffic police who are on foot along side the street. Foster begs for forgiveness, but they want kwacha. So, the police hop on the back of the truck, we drive them to the police station, and K135,000 was paid. They never asked for a driver license or passport - only money. But we make it to the farm, fully load the truck with desks and chairs and begin the trip back. But now Foster is driving the truck and as the Bible says, I begin praying without ceasing. I was a little nervous when Foster asked me where second gear was! Foster went through a few more yellow traffic lights, and I suggested we wait, as the others didn't know the way home, but he said "Ohhh, they will find us!" And it was so very dark - no street lights or lights of any kind from the surrounding villages, and we were flying. We pulled into Setanga, and I remained frozen in my seat for a short time, then saw the car with Ron, Steve and Karen. And I thanked God. I know the angels were watching over us.

"You can make many plans, but the Lord's purpose will prevail." Proverbs 19:21

2007-07-24T21:51:00.000-07:00

While we may spend a lot of our time waiting, and our plans change almost constantly, life here is certainly interesting and we are enjoying time spent talking with the people from George Compound. Monday, Ron drove the truck to the building site with the old trailer and the new rototiller on board. This in itself is an adventure as the road to George is a myriad of holes and ruts that make driving it a true challenge. But we made it, and all the men came running to help unload. They were especially fascinated by the rototiller. They spent a long time examining it with lots of chatter amongst themselves before asking "what is this machine with gears and blades?" They were really excited when they heard it would turn the soil while someone only walks behind guiding it.
And then began our day of waiting. We were supposed to meet Brown Banda (construction manager) in town to purchase timbers and deliver them to the building site. Foster called Philemon (project engineer) and said we should just wait there. Karen, Steve and Foster were in town taking care of business (including buying phone cards - so we didn't have a phone), tires for the car, and checking on baby Frederick who had been admitted to the hospital after one of the clinics last week. During our four hour wait, we saw the incredible hard work our men were doing. They are digging the cistern and are about four meters down. Their tools are a pick, shovel, ladder and bucket. Two men are in the hole with pick and shovel carving out a perfect rectangular hole while one man is on the ladder to pass up the bucket of dirt to the men on top. We also saw them fix their lunch at an open fire pit. They made buckets of nshima and beans, and there were three small mice on a stick, charcoaled to a crisp. More later...

"My soul, wait silently for God alone, for my expectation is from Him" Psalm 62:5

2007-07-22T11:37:00.000-07:00

Today was a slow and easy day, as we slept in until 7am, then began trying to email family and friends. Unfortunately the internet provider was uncooperative and we finally gave up after an hour or so. Foster had a much deserved day off, so we were without transportation. We spent time this Sunday morning in prayer, and then loaded additional items onto the truck to take to George tomorrow when we deliver the rototiller and the trailer to the project site. We walked to the nearby cemetery this afternoon and found there is a Christian area, a Jewish area, a Muslim area, and a war veteran memorial which had the only well-kept grave sites. Most were overgrown and missing identification, or poorly marked. Tomorrow will be much busier, and will also be Ron's first on road experience with the new truck. Thankfully, there is not a security system on the truck yet!

Beginnings

2007-07-21T11:40:00.000-07:00

The OMNI team was up at 4am for their 5 am departure to Lusaka. There were tearful goodbyes, lots of hugs and prayers, as we all said farewell. And so began the next phase of our journey. The team was off to Lusaka for a little (or maybe a lot) of shopping in the open air markets and at our dear friend Esme's shop. As they were boarding the plane to return home, Steve was disembarking, arriving to spend the next week with Karen, Ron and I as we all continue OMNI's work for the children of Zambia.
The three of us spent the day facing new adventures, missing our team mates, and longing for their fellowship this evening. Foster traveled to Lusaka with the team to retrieve the long awaited rototiller and the trailer which will serve as storage at the Children's Village property. So...we had the use of Foster's vehicle today. We were soon reminded that life in Zambia is an adventure. After Ron changed the flat tire, he spent some time trying to locate the button for the car alarm. After a quick call to Foster, the button was located, and we were on our way. Test drive - once around the block and then on our way. What is that funny beeping noise, why are the blinkers flashing, and why is there no power?...the car alarm is sounding. More experimenting, and it stops. Once more around the block. Seems that driving on the left side of the road will be the easy part! As we pass Setanga Lodge for the second time, the gate man is laughing and cheering us on! Small victory - we made it around the second time without incidence. On to fill up with fuel. Hurray! Another victory. We are fueled and ready to go, but the car won't start. The alarm is the culprit once again. Not to worry, push some buttons and we're on our way again. Uh oh - our first police check point - just look casual - and they wave us through without even stopping. One more victory! Then the beeping, and flashing, and no power again. We are so grateful this did not happen at the police check point. The three of us alone in a car with the alarm sounding in Zambia may have had a most undesirable outcome. One more call to Foster and we're on our way. We stopped to at our building site, then dropped off clothes at George, and on to Shop Rite, then back through the police check point and back home. It was a day of celebrating small victories and learning our way around town. Steve and Foster have just arrived with trailer and rototiller on the truck, and all is well. We thank God for their safe arrival and pray for the safety of our team as they travel home. It is so quiet here tonight...we miss our team.

June 18, 2007

2007-06-18T17:12:00.000-07:00

Less than three weeks until the OMNI team leaves for Zambia on a medical mission trip to serve the orphans and widows. This year our good friends, Ron and Mary Sue will be staying at the OMNI Children's Village for three months. Ron will be managing the building project at the Village. He will arrange for electricity to be run to the village, over-see the completion of the second orphan home, finish the inside of both buildings and much more. Mary Sue will be working directly with the staff and orphans at George Compound. She will be trying to get more detail about each orphan (such as first and last name, birth date and any living relatives.) Mary Sue will also be looking at improving our feeding program at the George School. This adventure is a major life change for these first time missionaries. Please keep them in your prayers as you follow their adventures through this blog site.

Date of departure: July 7, 2007
Date of return: October 1, 2007

I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me. Matthew 25:40