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Home From Africa

Today, for the first time in three and a half weeks (give or take a few days), I drank a Starbucks coffee. I know that doesn’t sound especially fascinating, but when one really loves coffee, and one isn’t able to have it consistently, or even at all, for a sustained period of time, one becomes excited about the prospect of drinking a real cup. Not this instant crap, which is what has been keeping me going for the past three weeks. That, and God.

Today I am back in the states. For those of you who were unaware, I have been in Zambia since the beginning of July. It’s been nearly a month, and I still cannot believe that it’s over. It went by much faster than I expected. I am sitting in my own living room, in my green computer chair, and I am viewing MySpace pages, and I am reading and responding to emails, and it still doesn’t seem like I’m really home. Kind of surreal. I still have not had a shower since leaving Mufulira at 11:00 pm on Thursday evening (Jacksonville time).

Coming home, I’ve been feeling so many different things. One of the big things is the rising dread of returning to the first world, with bills, and jobs, and possible jobs, and a very acute lack of money (I’m sensing a…money theme). For different reasons, some of which I will keep to myself, I have felt anxiety and worry. I spent a decent amount of time writing in my journal on the way home about that. And praying, also. I feel much better about the things I was anxious about. One of the things I tend to do…in life…is get ahead of myself. I’m so anxious to know the plan, to know what is ahead. I want all the details, and I worry about details that haven’t been given to me, which is so pointless. I mean, worrying about things that have not and may not happen. I do that a lot. It’s never a good idea.

I’ve also thought a lot about Africa. I cannot possibly describe what that land is like in a way that will do it justice. I think it is what you might imagine it would be. It was kind of like I imagined. There were villages, actual villages, with actual clay and thatch huts. The huts were all packed together, with tiny paths beat out by feet. In fact, throughout the town we stayed in, Mufulira, we saw those paths. They were everywhere. Walking is a main form of transportation. It reminded me of an ant farm. I had one of those once as a kid. At first, it was a wall of sand. But then, slowly, little tunnels were built, one at a time. Finally, just before I let the ants go, the entire wall was an intersecting maze of criss-crossed tunnels. That’s what these paths were like.

I thought that I would be scared in Zambia, that my personal safety was at stake, that I would encounter the kind of violence that you see in the media. When people here in the states think of Africa, they think of AK47’s and tribal conflicts, and child soldiers, and a general atmosphere of violence. I know, because when I told people where I was going before I went, they all furrowed their brows in worry. But Zambia isn’t really like that at all. I saw absolutely no violence while I was there. I didn’t feel threatened while in the market or taking a walk.

On the contrary, everyone that we met and talked with seemed extremely grateful that we were there; grateful for what we were doing with the orphans, grateful for the HIV/AIDS education that we provided. It was interesting…in Zambia, everyone is tuned into HIV. You see signs of it everywhere: in the national newspaper, in comic strips; on the news. People are aware of it, people are terrified of it, and still, so many people seemed fairly ignorant about it.

We spent everyday playing with kids. Just…playing with them. Giving them attention, giving them the kind of love that they ought to be receiving from an adult anyway. We had a routine: arrive at 10 hours; play, play, play; sing songs; have a dance party (really, just a bunch of kids dancing for other kids); talk about God; do an art project; play some more. I think the bulk of our ministry was in time spent with the kids. Not necessarily giving them a sermon, but holding them, holding their hands, playing games, communicating as well as we could, and smiling. I think that those things can do an amazing amount of good for an orphan whose never really known the love or care of an adult.

We were also able to pay school fees for those who needed it through the month of December. For those children, we bought uniforms and school shoes. For everyone, we bought some new shirts, a new pair of flip flops, and some of the kids also received some lace-up shoes. Everyone got a goody bag with treats inside. I was very glad to be able to provide for some of the material needs of the children while we were there.

Coming back, I realized that I felt love for the land and the people in Zambia. Real love. I’m not sure what my future holds as far as Zambia or Africa is concerned, but I do know that I’d like to go back. I definitely would like to go back.

As I mentioned earlier, I have not yet had a shower. My body has put up with the filth for long enough. My pores are screaming, “What are you doing to us? We are greasy, and we are only becoming more greasy as you type!” Not really, because they can’t talk…but that’s what they would say if they could. So, I really need to go. I hope that I’ve given you a little bit of something of Africa. Something of what it’s like to be there, something of what it meant to me. Something…enough…to maybe want to go yourself someday. —Sarah

Hello Jacksonville!
It is very late on Tuesday night, the last week of our trip. I cannot believe that the end is so near…everything has gone by so fast. It seems like yesterday when I was writing the first blog of the trip, and now I am writing one of the last. We will be back in Jacksonville this Saturday afternoon.
Today was our last day with the kids in Murundu. It went like most of the other days. We could see the crowd of children gathered and waiting for us as we drove our van into the village. They were all grinning and hopping and clapping their hands…it’s really quite a reception. We definitely know that they’ve been waiting for us. Lately, our team has gotten a little worn out. We’ve been going non-stop for about two and a half weeks. During the first week, most of us ran around with the kids,and played games, and kicked balls as soon as we arrived. A few of us are still doing that, but myself and some of the others have taken to holding the kids, sitting with them, letting them play with our hair. It’s quality time spent, but it’s a lot easier on the body when you’re tired. I really enjoy this part of our day. We have very little to actually say to each other because of the language barrier, but you find ways to communicate. There’s one small girl (she’s about six) named Colvier. I’ve taught her how to say, “I love you” in sign language. I’ve tried to translate it into Bemba so that she knows what we’re saying…I’m actually not sure that she does, but she has a pretty good time when sign it to each other.
Today we reviewed the Gospel story and prayed the salvation prayer with the kids. We did that last week, as well, but there have been so many new kids this week that we decided to do it again. I expected that all the kids would want to pray the prayer, and they did. After that, we explained to the children that we wanted to pray for them. So we had them raise their hands if they wanted prayer while we walked around. I really enjoyed this time. I sort of expected it to be a madhouse, with a riot of kids wanting prayer because it’s another way to get attention from us. But it wasn’t like that at all. In fact, they were very quiet, for the most part, and when we prayed for them and laid hands on them, they covered their eyes and bowed their heads. It seemed to me that our time spent praying for them really meant something to them…it wasn’t a joke. It’s amazing to feel the Holy Spirit at work, and to be a part of something eternal that’s being done. I feel incredibly blessed that God has allowed me to be a part of the time spent in prayer with the kids today.
In fact, I feel blessed to have been able to come on this trip. This was a short-term trip, and after we leave on Friday, we’re gone. Those kids will stay, and they will continue living the way that they were living before we arrived. We have been able to provide for some of their material needs while we’ve been here, and that’s awesome. I’m glad that some of those needs are being met. But even if that wasn’t the case, even if all we were able to do was spend a little bit of time with them, it would have been good. These kids, they’re so hungry for attention. They climb all over us when we arrive, and they don’t let go. To be able to give them the kind of love from an adult that they ought to be receiving anyway, even if it’s only for a short while, has been good. They need that. And I thank God that I’ve been able to do that for a child…to help her know that she is special, that she is worth something, and to do that just by holding her.
All right, it is very late now. Good night to everyone in Jacksonville…we will all see you very soon!

Sarah

Hey Everyone,

I am writing this from Dr. Thinus’s house in Mufulira, Zambia. It is now 6:10 local time, which is about six hours ahead of Jacksonville time. Our travel to Zambia went fairly smoothly. We arrived at the Jax airport at about 4:30am on Sunday and our flight took off at 6:20. After that, time lost all relevance. By the time that we reached Dr. Thinus’s house, I had stopped even wondering what time it was. Today, our first day here, is no different. I think it’s interesting how, when one is taken from one’s daily life, abstract concepts like time suddenly lose importance. I’ve been in this position before — not caring about time. I like it. It’s refreshing to measure the day with events rather than hours.

We were planning to get started in Murundu right away. Today was to be the first day of our Gospel presentation. However, after our long trip and getting home very late last night, we modified the plan a bit. We decided to catch up on our rest today and begin tomorrow instead. This turned out to be a good thing because it gave us a chance to see the village this afternoon, find out where we’d be holding our two weeks of ministry, meet some of the kids, and also find out what some of their immediate material needs are.

Seeing the village for the first time was a little difficult. I’ve been to third world nations before, and you sort of get used to the kinds of things that you see there. I spent most of the day comparing this small village in Africa to another small village I’ve been to in the Dominican Republic. There were a lot of similarities…children running around…the lack of shoes or clean clothing…adults sitting outside, preparing food, washing…amazingly small homes…makeshift fences…animals, especially chickens, wandering all over. There were a lot of similarities, but the differences are what struck me more. The main difference that caught my attention was the way in which the village was set up. Here in Murundu, the village is a very tight-nit group of huts, set up in a sort of maze. And by huts, I mean huts. The walls were clayish, the roofs were thatch. There were windows…I saw some panes, but they were mostly open. Most of the huts were surrounded by some kind of homemade fence. The doorways were covered with blankets rather than doors. Children were everywhere. Most of them had clothes, though they were very old and very tattered. Few of them had shoes. Their feet were caked with mud. I remember thinking at one point that they must have very tough feet, because the ground was a little rocky in some places. The other defining feature of the Murundu village was the startling lack of roads between the huts. There were roads leading into the village, but they quickly narrowed once you were in the thick of things. They were paths obviously beat out by feet, not vehicles. This alone gave me the impression that I was definitely in a village, not just a small town.

The people. One thing that I rediscovered today was that children are universal. They are the same wherever you go. If a child in America thinks that something is fun, like jumping rope, then a child in Zambia would think it’s pretty fun, too. If a child in America likes it when you give him attention, or even just a smile, then a child in Zambia would also love that attention. You’ll see some of the same behaviours between older children and younger children. The older ones are protective, carrying the younger ones around. The younger children still hide behind their older brothers, sisters, parents. It doesn’t matter where in the world you come from. Children are children.

Describing the differences would take way too long. They are what you’d imagine they would be. The differences are what made walking through the village difficult for me. Pastor Joseph took us through the village today, and he is going to be helping us tremendously in the next couple of weeks. He feeds about 60 orphans a day. Today he told us that it is not uncommon for 10 kids to sleep on a dirt floor in a hut the size of a van without blankets or pillows. You sort of expect to hear things like that, but when you are confronted with the reality here, it brings it home. I thought of my own bed, which would easily fit three or four small children. I thought of my numerous blankets and pillows. I thought of all the children I’ve worked with in the states. That, though some of them come from desperate circumstances, it doesn’t really even compare. These kids…these people…they have hard lives.

I am looking forward to the coming weeks. I can’t wait to see what God is planning for us and for this village, and I feel so lucky that I can be a part of it. Thank you to everyone who helped us to get here…either through your prayers or support. We’ll definitely keep you updated on the events of the coming days.

Sarah