We had a fun practice on this last trip of sharing our favorite moments at the end of each day. Here are some we wanted to share with all of you:
We were at the internet café. Muyunda had parked in the parking lot. When it came time to leave, we needed the parking attendant to move the barrier placed at the entrance of the lot. Although he saw us, and it was very obvious what was needed, the attendant simply looked at Muyunda. Muyunda had to roll down his window and explain to the attendant that we needed to leave now. As we pulled out, we asked Muyunda about that. Why did you have to ask him? "People are fed up with life," he projected. Indeed, we could imagine a life in which you can barely provide for your family, medical care is unavailable to you, things often do not work--busses break down, you cannot find the goods you need at the time you need them, things are stolen, people you love die at young ages--yes, it would be easy to become disheartened. We only wish everyone could participate in something like the project in Kantolomba and have an experience of life working, of life living. Perhaps one day...
After we saw the cemetery, we took a wandering route back to the Living Compassion building. On our way back, we noticed a few houses with smooth walls and nice porches (with columns even!). I didn't give it much thought other than "Ohh, that looks nice!" Later, as we were talking to Theresa about the various lending programs, we asked what folks bought when it was their turn to receive the revolving fund loans. One of the items she listed was cement to plaster the outer walls of the house. Suddenly, those nice looking houses made sense! The cement plaster fully weatherproofs the walls, and once that is done folks can confidently add amenities like the covered porches we saw. It was so nice to see another way that folks were investing in a more sustainable lifestyle.
One of my favorite moments happened as we were leaving Castle Lodge for another day of adventure. Four folks from an American NGO that teaches people how to make shoes were staying there. Along with finding out that they were from Asheville, NC, and their favorite place in the world was Carmel, CA, we found that we had many other things in common too. In a brief conversation around breakfast, we found out that they were looking for an industrial sewing machine. Wow, been there, done that! We knew exactly how to direct them to the store that sells them-a place across from the Hungry Lion Restaurant, behind the potted plants... None of us knew what the exact address or the name of the place was, and we went around for a while pondering how to explain it. And then we asked Muyunda if he knew how to get there. He did, and as we were driving out, he pulled up along side the NGO's taxi that was pulling up to Castle Lodge. On his own, he started to describe the place they were looking for to the driver. I was moved by the teamwork, the desire to do good, and the unsolicited impulse to assist others that spreads and connects us all.
I eagerly anticipated watching the 100 children video with everyone in Kantolomba. We all assembled in one of the rooms used as a classroom. As the video began to play, the eyes of everyone in the room began to light up. I have watched this video so many times over the years. Suddenly, I was watching it with the people who knew and lived with these children. It was so great to hear the women call out the names of the children as they appeared on the screen. When the video finished and every child was accounted for, and we knew that each was still alive, we were all filled with deep gratitude. The whole Africa Vulnerable Children Project became more real to me that day.
We were in the health class with Rose. Some folks were sitting up on benches, others of us on reed mats on the floor. Ethel was sitting across the room from me. At one point she was coughing, a deep, croupy sort of cough. Ethel often does not feel well (though rarely stays home from work) as she is HIV positive and seems never to have done well on the ARVs she started about a year ago. Although I often project discomfort and fatigue on her, she never complains, always insists she is fine. I looked at her and watched a feeling of helplessness arise for me. What can I do? Then I smiled. Of course there is something I can do. I got up and walked across the room, leaned down and asked her if she would like some water. "Yes," she replied, "But I can get it." I shook my head and went out to the tap to fetch a cup of water. I came back and handed it to her and the loveliest smile came across her face as she received it. She will still die, but, then again, so will I. Seems like being present for such exchanges is plenty.
One afternoon I was sitting on the porch at the Living Compassion compound in Kantolomba. Suddenly, smiling children surrounded me. My Bemba vocabulary being quite non-existent, I began to sing to them. I created some hand gestures to go along with my song. The children were totally engaged. It didn't matter to them if I could carry a tune or what I was doing with my hands. They all participated very enthusiastically. It was so good to share an experience of joy in just being alive.
When we arrived at the property for the day, I looked up and saw Mwewa and Duncan sitting on the step waiting for us. These are the two young men who had agreed to help out at the property in return for their scholarships but had not followed through. They had come asking for another scholarship, and we had explained that we would not be able to consider the next one until we saw their commitment to the project, to their community. So, this morning, there they were, bright and early, ready to jump in and assist. Well, there you are, make the expectations clear and they will respond. I have a feeling we will be seeing a lot of these boys in the coming weeks. Good for them!
One morning I was given the honor of helping cook the midday meal. I must say my part was small. They let me experience what it was like to stir a huge cooking pot of nchima. It is definitely hard, hot work. Every one was eager to have me participate. and I felt just like one of the girls. The next best part was when they asked me if I would like to help serve the children their lunch. I couldn't think of anything I would rather do. I was struck by what I project was the gratitude of each child for the food they were receiving. There was absolutely no complaining about anything. In between serving the children. the women on either side of me eagerly taught me some Bemba words. Their patience and eagerness to teach me their language was truly touching. I felt a great amount of love that day.
On the day that Friday came out to do the repair on the water tank, we had him pick up some stove materials in Masala market. A few of us were out back with the cooks when he arrived. Shortly thereafter, someone mentioned he had come. Wanting to get the guys started with the new materials, I went around to his truck to grab them. When I arrived the truck bed was empty. The guys had run over as soon as they heard Friday pull up, and were already hard at work turning the new materials into stoves. They were ON IT!
At one point during the big storm out in Kantolomba, I watched myself become nervous. The wind picked up enough to have me wonder just how severe this was going to be and to consider what damage it might cause. I decided to sit down next to some of the women and just breathe. A great calm came over me as I looked around the room and realized how much I love these folks, and I had the thought that here, in this place, with these people, on this day, is as good a time to die as any. Nothing to protect against. Just here.
One sunny afternoon I was sitting on the lawn with the women. I asked Beatrice if I could hold her baby. He is 6 months old and she named him Delight. I sat him on my lap and looked into his beautiful face. It was a pleasure to feel how solid his body felt and how healthy he looked. I did what I would do with any baby and started making motor boat sounds. It is so much fun to have a baby and an excuse to look foolish. His face lit up and he began to laugh. The sillier I got the more he laughed. We were just two humans sitting in the sun and having fun.
On the plane ride home I had another welcome reminder of what it is all about. I sat in my seat as people boarded with the usual prayer that the seat next to me remain empty (you would be amazed what a difference an extra seat makes on an 18 hour flight!). I was in the aisle seat of the center section of four seats. There was a young woman on the opposite end of the row, on the other aisle. The two seats between us were empty. Once the cabin doors had closed (and I was smiling) one of the flight attendants came to talk with the woman sharing my row. The flight attendant began to indicate that my row-mate could have the three empty seats next to her. "What? One of those seats is mine!" the voice in my head protested. And then I heard the conversation these two women were having as the flight attendant explained to my fellow passenger that she, too, was a "survivor" and to not lose hope, that she was sure she would make it through. My heart sank. As the flight attendant walked away, I turned to my row-mate and said, "I don't know what is going on but please know that you are most welcome to have all the space you need." She was eager for support (I projected) and told me how she was returning from South Africa (her original home) after two brain surgeries to remove tumors. The airline had changed her reservations without letting her know, and she was now facing long layovers without access to her necessary injections. I marveled, watching my internal reaction shift from one of "I want an extra seat" to "I want to do whatever I can to help make this woman's journey more comfortable." And truly, I no longer wanted that extra seat. What was going to make me happy in that moment was to assist. A miraculous piece of it was that she and I ended up having a conversation about how adversity reminds us of how lucky we are, and when we are grateful we have gratitude and a life of gratitude is all we want. Thank you.
On my last day in Kantolomba a number of the women assembled on the porch to sing a farewell song. As they sing, I do not experience any self-consciousness coming from them. As I attempt to join them in song, I only experience acceptance from them. Standing there in the warm afternoon surrounded by song my heart feels so open. They often place their hands over their hearts and I join them in what seems like a universal symbol of love. I have made so many friends in this small community. I will carry them with me always.
And thank you again, to everyone, for following along with us. Be sure to follow along with the Muyunda blog and we will "talk" with you again next trip!
Gasshō
