Death is a Part of Life.

Death is a part of life.

But in Africa, death is a far too regular part of life. 

The statistics of how many people, of all ages, who die every day in Africa is mind-numbing.

 

Malaria is the #1 killer. Not because it’s not treatable, but because people don’t have access to treatment or prevention.  Malaria frequently causes diarrhea, and for those people who don’t have access to clean water, dehydration along with the weakened body causes rapid death.

HIV/AIDs is traveling rampant across the continent. It is transported by the forces of naivety, cultural expectations, male-dominance, as well as through the innocent unborn. Millions of children are orphaned, and the cycle continues.

Water-borne illnesses plague those who don’t have access to clean water.  Because this is their only water source they blindly accuse evil spiritual forces.  It couldn’t be the water causing their village to die since this is the only water mother nature/god has given them.

This doesn’t include the ‘normal’ causes of death which people in developed countries face.

Since the day I arrived, people I have met or become friends with have been attending funerals.  Our morning devotionals at the Bible College regularly include praying for so and so who had to go to the funeral of their relative.  Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, fathers, mothers, cousins are dying. 

The fact that African families are large and tightly knit influences the regularity of funeral attendance, but it certainly does not justify the causes of these deaths.

This past week I had the privilege to be a part of the mourning of the death of my friend Ida’s father.  Ida and I had been working together cooking for a team of nursing students.  Her father died in the hospital at Zimba from cancer.  He was an older man.

The day that he died, I went with some of Ida’s friends and co-workers to visit her in their ‘funeral home.’  I didn’t have any idea what to expect, and I was nervous, so I invited Judy to come with me. (The nursing team leader)  When I was told we were going to the funeral home, I expected a separate building or church, but instead we arrived at Ida’s home compound. 

There were about five well-kept huts at her home, likely very well taken care of by her father the family’s patriarch, for many years.  The men were sitting outside near one hut on chairs.  I followed the lead of the women to go into a small room where the women were gathered.  Everyone removed their shoes at the door, though for whatever reason they told me and Judy not to! The women were sitting on the floor, backs pressed against the wall with their legs stretched out and crossed in front of them. We knelt down and silently greeted each woman with a hand shake.  I sat down next to Ida, and followed the lead of everyone else by staring at my feet. 

We sat in silence.  It was heavy silence. Sad silence.  Empty thunder rumbled outside.  I felt my heart well with grief for this family and wished that the women were wailing as I had expected them to be.  The silence was too much for me.

More mourners came in and greeted us in the same fashion and sat down in silence. 

Thankfully, one of the women I came with, Brenda, began singing hymns. Others joined in. Brenda is a pastor’s wife and is well trained to present the gospel.  She began preaching in Tonga.  Though I could only understand a few words, it was unmistakably a call to repentance and a message in the hope of the eternal salvation of Jesu Christu. 

After another woman prayed, we left the room.  Outside we greeted Ida’s mother.  She was sitting near a small straw thatched structure where I could just make out the blanket bound corpse of her husband.   We sat down for a few minutes out of respect for her mother, and then prepared to leave.  Even as we were leaving, dozens of mourners were arriving, likely having walked for miles to give their condolences. 

It is tradition here to give gifts to the families of those who have lost a loved one.  Usually this would include maize for making nshima and other food items.  With so many family members gathering from far and wide, extra food makes the several days of mourning more functional. As her employer, I gave Ida a financial gift equivalent of about $20. 

The mourning time will last for a few days before the burial.  Death is a regular occurrence.  People are very close with each other and their families.  Because of these two facts, people are constantly attending funerals such as this one. 

Death is a (regular) part of life…

But so is hope. 

And, somehow, my resilient Zambian friends are full of it. 

Bumps in the Road

The roads are bumpy here.  Any time you go off the main highways, you can travel on dirt roads for hours in any direction heading further and further into the bush.  The further you drive the more lost you can get since everything looks the same.  When we make trips on the dirt roads, including the one that takes us to our home in Jembo, we do our best to enjoy the ride.  Singing songs, playing music on our IPods, and telling stories of home keep our minds and bodies focused on things other than the constant jostling.  When we start approaching the paved highway, those last few feet of slow slow bumps can feel like the longest.  But once the land cruiser pulls itself over the curb and onto the highway, we can’t help but give a little cheer and a big sigh of relief. After that, it is usually smooth sailing for a while and we can finally relax and fall asleep. (I’ve somehow managed to fall asleep on the bumpy roads too!)

These are the literal bumps in the road that we face here in Zambia.  But there’s a lot of metaphorical ones too J Plans are constantly changing. Plan B quickly turns into plans X, Y, and Z.  When my parents ask me a “what are you doing this weekend” question, I usually answer with, “I’ll tell you after it happens!”  A few big bumps this month have included the often unbearable heat and getting malaria. 

I spent this past week hosting a team of nursing students from Indiana Wesleyan University.  The whole week felt like one big long bumpy road.  My role was to prepare breakfast for the team of 22 people and supervise/help prepare the other meals with our hired cook, Ida.  That in itself was going to be a new challenging experience for me, but I was ready to give it a try. 

The first day, Tuesday, the team was arriving for dinner, so Ida and I would have the whole day to prepare.  A glass coke bottle exploded, rocketing glass and sticky pop all over the inside of the fridge and all over our vegetables.  I lost the menu.  So Ida and I had to sit down and try to recreate it from memory.  The vegetables I had bought only a few days before had already gone bad and moldy despite sitting in the cold fridge.  (The 110F heat contributed to this problem) So Ida and I had to go to the market to find more vegetables. Despite all of this, the first meal was a success and every stomach was happy and satisfied.  Looking back, I thought there were some bumps in the road that day but I had no idea what the next few days would bring. 

Wednesday went by without any major problems.  That evening after dinner was finished, I prepared an overnight French toast dish.  All I would have to do in the morning is put it in the oven for an hour.  Since I was staying in a separate house from the main guesthouse I decided I would cook the French toast in my house so all I had to do was get up and stick it in the oven. Then I could get ready for the day before finishing the rest of breakfast preparations by 7AM.  When I stumbled out into the kitchen at 5:30 on Thursday, I tried to turn the oven on.  It wouldn’t work and I just couldn’t figure it out.  Thankfully, Google is an excellent resource. I felt proud of myself for searching for this specific brand oven, finding the user manual, and successfully turning the oven on.  The oven was on, the French toast was beginning to cook, and I had a half hour to head over to the main house and make coffee etc.  When I returned to retrieve the French toast, I found the oven off and the toast still cold and soggy. It was supposed to be served in 10 minutes.  Thankfully, I had eager helpers who assisted in frying the toast by hand on the stove. By the time everyone left at 8, everyone who wanted a bite of toast got some.

Friday’s breakfast was much less uneventful, but the day took a bad turn when we learned that Ida’s father had died during the night.  She would be leaving us for the rest of the trip to be with her family during their time of mourning.  The next few meals were going to require a decent amount of preparation and they were meals I had never really cooked before. Especially not for 22 people.  Thankfully, the team was flexible.  They had great servant hearts and were eager to help cook and clean throughout the day.

The week was HOT. Being in the kitchen cooking didn’t help at all.  Friday afternoon we had a glimmer of hope that the rains might come when big black clouds and a strong wind came our way.  The power went out (not an uncommon occurrence) just after we had finished preparing dinner.  Candles were lit, and positive attitudes brought out for a few hours without power.  A few hours turned into going to bed without power.  It was hot in our bedrooms. No power meant no fans. The ladies I was staying with decided to pull our mattresses onto the living room floor in front of the screen door so we could have some fresh air. It took forever to fall asleep with the heat, and my mind was racing with thoughts of all the food we had for the next two days going bad without any refrigeration. 

I woke up in the morning at 5:30. Power still out.  My fears were quickly confirmed that the wind blew down power lines and it would be an unknown amount of African time before the power came back on.  (Did I mention that this ‘storm’ never actually delivered any rain?) Having the power go out in Zimba is worse than in Jembo.  In Jembo, we have gas stoves.  In Zimba, they are electric.  Meaning, there would be no cooking for our group of 22.  Not only that, but we woke up to absolutely no water pressure.  With this heat, drinking water is more than a necessity. (Pretty sure I’ve been drinking a gallon and a half a day!) Not only that, but one of the girls in the group had been violently sick all night long.  We needed to leave.  In about an hour’s scramble, transport was arranged, bags were packed, and we were on our way to Choma where the group has been staying in the World Hope guesthouse. 

When we arrived in Choma, it felt like we got off a very long bumpy road and were finally smooth sailing on pavement.  Through all of the bumps of the last few days, the group has been so helpful. In fact, I think they’re having fun preparing meals.  Being back on their ‘home turf’ makes them feel as though they should be hospitable to me, even though I’m still responsible for preparing their meals until tomorrow’s lunch.  They’re eager to help peel potatoes, and we’re going to get creative and make apple crisp.  Tomorrow’s pizza lunch should be the cherry on top of a very long week.

As I write this, there are still 3 meals left. I’m tired, and hot. But I’m writing this with the hope that the bumps are over, and we’ll have an uneventful 24 hours.  After my responsibilities are done, I’ll really give a little cheer and big sigh of relief.  Despite all this craziness this week, this group has been fantastic in helping each other and myself sing through it all. I really have had a great time playing ‘hostess’ and do look forward to the next time I have the opportunity to serve people this way.

Flexibility is our friend, Expectation is our enemy.  And we daily… no, hourly, are reminded: T.I.A.  This. Is. Africa.  Sometimes you just gotta learn to enjoy the bumpy roads J

Happy Zambian Independence Day!

Today Zambia celebrates 47 years of independence!  The country celebrates with a day of vacation, while I sit holed up alone in the Zimba mission house.  I'm hoping to experience something cultural today, but Zimba is a small town so my chances are small.  We'll see!  Here is some history about Zambia, courtesy of our good friends at Wikipedia... 

"After visits by European explorers starting in the 18th century, Zambia became the British colony of Northern Rhodesia towards the end of the nineteenth century. For most of the colonial period, the country was governed by an administration appointed from London with the advice of the British South Africa Company.

On 24 October 1964, the country declared independence from the United Kingdom and prime minister Kenneth Kaunda became the first head of state. Zambia was governed by Kenneth Kaunda of the socialist United National Independence Party (UNIP) from 1964 until 1991. From 1972 to 1991 Zambia was a one-party state with UNIP the sole legal political party. From 1991 to 2002, Zambia was governed by president Frederick Chiluba of the social-democraticMovement for Multi-Party Democracy during which the country saw a rise in social-economic growth and increased decentralisation of government. Levy Mwanawasa was the third President of Zambia. He presided over the country from January 2002 until his death in August 2008. He is credited with having initiated a campaign to rid the country of corruption, and increasing standards of living from the levels left by Frederick T.J. Chiluba"

-After Levy Mwanawasa died, his vice president Rupiah Banda took office.  The recent election in September placed Michael Sata in office as the fifth president. 

The green base of the flag represents the country's vegetation and natural wealth.  The red stripe represents Zambia's struggle for independence.  Black represents the people of Zambia. Orange stands for the nation's mineral wealth, especially copper.  The eagle represents freedom and the history of the people's strength in rising above many adversities.  

This flag was adopted on October 24, 1964- Zambia's first day of independence from Britain. This was also the day that 'Northern Rhodesia' became 'Zambia'.  

In my short time here so far, it is evident to me that Zambia is a country aimed at progress.  There are signs of construction everywhere. The general attitude towards the future is one of hope and perseverance towards development.  There is a long way to go, but they are headed in the right direction.  Today I celebrate with Zambia in their perseverance through many political trials to become the country that I love today, and pray along with them for their continued development.  

Timothy's first trip to the falls (not Niagara...)

The pictures tell the story... :)  

We made him walk with his eyes closed so his first glimpse of the falls would be  at the first viewing point.

Timothy has always lived in small villages in the bush. I cant imagine what this moment felt like,
but his reaction tells it all!

It is the driest part of the dry season, so the falls have barely any water going over.
We walked right along the edge of the falls! 

Why I'm Here...

The students at Pilgrim Wesleyan Bible College are the reason I am here.  A common phrase I said during support raising was that I hoped to play a small part in equipping the pastors of Zambia to better spread God’s joy throughout Zambia, Africa and the world.  I am daily reminded that my part in all of this is quite small. 

Here’s the breakdown of the student body:

- There are 26 students. 

-24 men, and 2 women. 

-10 first years, 7 second years, and 9 third years. 

-The two women are single, one widowed and one a single 22 year old.

-There are 11 single men.  The rest are married with families.

-The wives of the married students have a daily program of study here as well (more on that later)

-The age range of the students is from 20-64.

-Education level is varied.  They have completed anywhere from grade 6 to grade 12.  The wives have education anywhere from none to grade 8, with just a few having completed grade 12. 

These are students who have been called by God.  They are each individually gifted with passions and abilities that already shine through their daily lives.  They have a level of Biblical Literacy which is far beyond the average American believer.  Even the first year students know scripture inside out and backwards before they have begun their studies at the college.

Their faith inspires me daily.  To become a pastor in Zambia is a huge sacrifice.  A pastor’s salary is provided by the church’s tithes.  In a country where the parishioners have an income of next to nothing, pastors and their families survive on the scraps of what their congregations are able to give.  Several of the students here have answered God’s call to the ministry, leaving behind much higher and more comfortable positions in business management and even computer programming.  Several have brought shame to their extended family by entering the ministry, going against secular cultural expectations.  Their level of faith and sacrifice is humbling. I know that my own sacrifice to be here pales in comparison to the trials which they and their families will face. 

Like most Africans, these students each have stories of persevering through and overcoming the adversities of their socio-economic class.  In our first discipleship group meeting, each of the 7 students in my group gave a brief story about their background.  Some had stories of relatively comfortable upbringing in good Christian families while some had homes broken by divorce or the death of a parent.  David’s story was the most heart wrenching to me as he shared about being a double orphan, growing up on the streets begging for food and finding hope only in drugs and alcohol.  He was blessed to have a man take him in at age 12, allowing him to complete his schooling.  It wasn’t until 3 years ago that he became a Christian and soon after felt the call to ministry.  David, age 27, is now a promising young pastor with a fighting spirit. His whole life is evidence of God’s grace, love and redemption for each of his dear children. 

These are people who know what it means to have nothing.  They have felt the sting of hunger for the necessities of food, love, and acceptance. They have lost loved ones left and right due to incurable diseases and a poor medical system. Yet when you talk to them, you would never know it.  Their JOY is radiant.  They have come to know the secret of the Salvation of our Lord Jesus Christ and are filled to overflowing with the Spirit’s passion for living a life of sacrifice and worship. Laughter is a constant here, and gossip or arguing unheard of.  When asked what they are thankful for today, the first year’s answers were along the lines of, “For the Lord’s salvation.” “For the opportunity to live in and serve the Lord.”  Obby said, “I am thankful to be counted among the living.” In a land where they know death and suffering all too closely, these are people who embrace their God-given lives with hope, perseverance, and JOY. 

Each one of these students has quickly gained my respect and admiration.  They are already so close to my heart that I want to do everything I can to pour into their lives these next two years to help prepare them for the work the Lord has called them to.  Though there is definite value in the lessons we are teaching in Biblical exegesis and hermeneutics as well as the constant practice in preaching they do during their 3 years here, the Lord has already equipped and prepared them with gifts and passions and most importantly His Spirit.  Though they look at me with respect and authority as their foreign, well-educated lecturer, I see them with great humility.  They are teaching me lessons that go far deeper than anything academic I could offer them.

All of this deep emotional stuff only comes to my mind when I sit and reflect.  My usual interaction with the students involves a lot of laughter.  J

The students are here on scholarship.  The scholarship money comes from the States from individual and church sponsors.  To sponsor a student and their family is $100 a month.   Each month, the students are given a $40 allowance.  This is used towards food, clothing, their children’s school fees and any other necessities.  For some families, this $40 is spread thin between two parents and anywhere from 1 to 8 children.  The other $60 is put towards boarding costs, the staff salaries, grounds maintenance, and other tuition fees.  If the money is short, this doesn’t mean that a student isn’t allowed to come to college.  What does happen in a budget deficit however is each family is given an equal but lesser amount of their monthly income of $40.  In this case, choices will need to be made in the family.  Do we eat less food as a family?  Does Junior go without schooling for the term?  Sacrifices are made. 

Currently we have a budget deficit of $11,000, meaning that approximately 9 students aren’t sponsored.  Many of you have been asking about other ways you can be supporting my ministry here at the Bible College.  If there were any way you could do something further than the ways you have already supported me, it would be to donate money to the student fund.  Even in situations where we have a surplus of funds coming from the States, that money is always put to good use.  There are always repair projects to be done, and many big dreams for new buildings for housing and schooling. 

If you’re interested in sponsoring a student for the $100 monthly donation, you would be partnered with them for 3 years.  The students write to their sponsors regularly (a good way to practice their English!) and your favorite missionary will be glad to send photos and stories J  Otherwise, one-time donations are always more than welcome.  A dollar goes a LONG way here, so every little bit you give makes a big difference. 

If you would like to make a donation you can contact Global Partners and ask to make a donation or begin sponsorship for the “Pilgrim Wesleyan Bible College Zambia Scholarship Fund”. 

You can find contact info here:  www.wesleyan.org/gp

Thank you for the many ways you are already supporting these future church-leaders. As always, your prayers for them as they face many challenges, both inside the classroom and in everyday life, are the best way to support them.  J