Oh, what a day!
It began as usual, very early. We had looked long and hard at the issue of purchasing a house (for us this means, of course, being still and watching what arises), and in the morning, after a stop at the internet cafe to print out a copy of our letter of intention, dropped off our bid at the lawyer's office. We never thought of it again, which we took as a good indication that we are secure in our direction. If the house is ours, our bid will be accepted; if it's not, it won't. Quite simple really. If it is ours, we will need to pay for it, but that's another issue altogether.
Jen and Cheri took on the rest of the town errands, while Dave and Theresa got new tires on the car. (Only two were needed, we gratefully learned, as those kinds of items are not cheap in this part of the world.) The bank is one of those on-going sagas that might lend itself to a mini-series. We have to open the account as part of our NGO status, but we can't open the account because Theresa doesn't have her National Registration card because she lost it, and though she's applied for a duplicate, the request has to go to the Capitol in Lusaka and no one can tell us the status of the application. Around and around and around we go. Is there anyone we can talk to? No, there's no one you can talk to, you need the National Registration card to open the account.... At least the ATM was working so we drew out mountains of money to get us through the day.
The tire shop
Godfrey is going to school next door to the bank at Northrise University so we called him and he came down to pick up the flash drive containing the first three days of the blog, which he will send out via the University's high-speed internet. Across the street is Zesco, the electric company, so we took advantage of the proximity to check on our application for electricity at the building site. Come back at 1400 hours (two o'clock).
We stopped at the Savoy to reconnoiter and await a call from Theresa and Dave. Turns out they were short on the price of the tires, even after a discount, and the tire folks agreed that they could go get some more money and bring it back later. Ah, the blessings of a small town, not to mention honest people.
Finally got word that the well rig was on its way! They were putting the finishing touches on the last job, stopping to gas up, and they'd be on their way. That gave us a very short time to finish up in town and get out to Kantolomba to meet them. We dashed over to pick up chitenge to take to Neli to make another pair of meditation pants--the first pair she did are stunners, much higher quality than our original pairs--and material for more napkins. Our favorite chitenge shop, the only Zambian-owned chitenge shop in town, has gone out of business.
Jen modeling the new chitenge pants
Next door to the defunct chitenge shop is the Cetzam office, the microfinance organization recommended by our very helpful contacts in the U.S. There we met the charming and helpful Edwin--he was expecting us, having received an email from those above-mentioned helpful folks in the U.S.--who gave us quite an education in micro-finance. After explaining how the process works, he offered to come out to Kantolomba to prepare a group of citizens for micro-loans.
The Cetzam office
Out on the street, we ran in to Mr. Mwange, our former coordinator in Kantolomba, currently the Area Counselor for Kantolomba (an elected position). He asked us how the projects were going, and shortly the conversation came around to the possibility of us buying the three parcels along the edge of the Community Center property. He said that the Resident Development Committee would see to it that the people sold us their land. "No, no, no," we told him. "We don't want them to be forced to leave." Not a word would he hear. "We will explain to them what Living Compassion is doing for our community, and they will want to move." Several more attempts to convince him we really didn't want that also fell on deaf ears. Sometimes we just have to let go and let people do things the way they want.
The adjacent property we hope to buy.
When we arrived in Kantolomba to drop Dave off to wait for the well rig, our gals (the nine who work for us, primarily cooking for and teaching the kids) were lined up in front of the fence with hoes ready to clear the property. We couldn't figure out what they were doing but soon learned that they had decided that, rather than us paying someone else to clear the property, they should do it to save us the money. Great gals!
The Kantolomba 11 at the ready.
Speaking of great gals, Theresa told us that at 5:30 that morning a group of eight women from Kantolomba, who had walked for more than an hour to get to her house, appeared on her doorstep. They had come because they want to work, and they were afraid that only friends and relatives of those already hired would be allowed to get jobs. They didn't want to approach Theresa in Kantolomba because they feared what those already having jobs would say in their efforts to keep all the jobs for their own. Theresa assured them that they had nothing to fear, and that as jobs became available everyone would be considered fairly. They then made the long trek home. Our response: Let's hire those women just as soon as we can. These are people who want to work.
On the way to town we passed the three well rigs--horn honking, screaming, and waving, we welcomed their arrival.
Meanwhile, Dave was waiting in Kantolomba for these same rigs. People in the compound are used to seeing cars and mini-vans pass through on their way to the cemetery, but the sight of those three huge trucks and the complex machinery they carried astonished everyone they passed. When they roared into view, the women who were working to clear a path for them onto the property dropped their hoes, stopped singing, and stared.
The rigs pulled up outside the wooden fence that surrounds the property. A gang of tough-looking men climbed out of the vehicles and began to survey the site. After Dave showed them the place where we have decided to dig the well, they fired up the trucks again and, with the assistance of a great deal of shouting and cursing, somehow managed to squeeze them through the gate and maneuver them into position.
The drilling rig appears around the corner, heading for our property.
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It's a big truck.
It's a really big truck.
The rig makes its way through a small opening in the fence.
Attracted by the commotion, a crowd of children gathered to watch. It was truly something to witness, not just because of the noise or the size of the machinery, but just because it was happening: there, for the first time in the history of the compound, was the means to bring clean water to the people of Kantolomba.
Spectators.
Having arranged everything to their liking, the drillers left for town, saying they would return in two hours time to sleep next to their equipment for security, and promising to begin work first thing in the morning.
The rig sits waiting for the drillers to return.
Back in Ndola, we did something we'd wanted to do for days--we went to C'est Bon for lunch. It's new, little, cute, charming, and has outside dining! Nothing like it for many miles around. And the food is good.
Theresa and Cheri at C'est Bon.
Back at Zesco, we were told that we're late for our appointment, which we didn't know we had. A very nice fellow took us up to the fourth floor (the lift was not working) where we waited in a very hot and stuffy corridor while he went off to find the man in charge. Just as we were about to give up (we needed to be back in Kantolomba at 3 p.m. to meet Gaudencia, the contractor), Fred walked up. He's the man who plans and schedules electricity installations. Apologizing profusely for being late--these people are so polite--he escorted us into his office. We began to explain who we were and what we needed when he remembered being briefed. He slapped his palms against his knees and said, "Well, let's go then." "To Kantolomba? Now?" "Yes, of course, unless that is inconvenient for you."
We had him down those stairs and out of that building in record time. When we arrived a crowd was at the gate. The women, the security guards, hordes of children, the night watchman, the assistant coordinator--Veronica--Evereste, and Dave. Fred looked around and started laughing. "I can see that this is urgent," he said. Just then Gaudencia and her assistant arrived. We all walked the property, viewed the well site, discussed the electricity (we looked like a fairly good-sized parade), and then began moving back toward the vehicles in preparation for getting Fred back to his office. As we explained to everyone that he was very busy and needed to return to work, he laughed again and said, "Me busy? Looks to me like you're the ones who are busy." With about six meetings going on simultaneously, we had to agree with him.
Gaudencia and Dave agreeing on a direction.
Left: Dave, Theresa (hidden behind Dave), Veronica and Jen. Right: Gaudencia and Fred.
Evereste was there to hand off the Kantolomba census/survey that he had just completed. He is a truly remarkable young man whom we've mentioned in previous blogs. During the first focus group, he had explained to us what he sees as the problems Kantolomba is facing and what he thinks could be done to solve those problems. We were stunned by the depth of his understanding, his articulate speech, and humble, commanding presence. He sees early marriage as one of the primary stumbling blocks his community is struggling with. He said, "Young people are encouraged to marry at 16 or 17 years of age. They have no education, no jobs, and they begin to have children they cannot support, children who will starve to death as we are starving." He was 17 years old at the time. This child is going to go places, we thought. And we committed then and there to support him to go as far as he wants to with his education. We learned that he wants to be a doctor and to practice in Kantolomba.
He just won the highest science award for the Copperbelt region of Zambia. He will now have an opportunity to compete against all the other students throughout the country for the national prize. As this was happening and people in the larger community learned about his victory, he was asked repeatedly, "Where are you from?" They just couldn't believe he is from Kantolomba. No one from Kantolomba has ever accomplished anything remotely approaching this level of success. We are very proud of him, and he is obviously very proud of himself. We've started calling him Doctor already, which clearly pleases him enormously. He and his best friend will be watching the rig tonight, then coming to clear land after school--they want to pay for books and tutoring.
Evereste and a friend.
Theresa had gone to take Fred back to Zesco so we asked Gaudencia and James if we could get a ride with them. She took us to her house, telling us that her children had been hoping we would come by the day before and were very disappointed when we had not. We went in for juice and a lovely visit with Gaudencia and her husband.
The beautifully kept yard at Guadencia's house.
Sitting at the dining room table left to right: Jen, Cheri, Gaudencia, a friend (who owns a guesthouse we may be able to use for the July trip), Gaudencia's husband, Won.
A friend stopped by to pick up her daughter who was visiting one of Gaudencia's daughters. She gave us a ride home, and we learned that she and her family have a Guest House very near the house we made a bid on this morning. Everyone who hears about the house confirms that buying it would be a very good thing to do. The price is good now, but will go up quickly. A very good investment, all agree.
Another late evening of cooking, cleaning, and blogging. All in all, a remarkable, inspiring day.