Wednesday was Cheri's last day. We had set a meeting for 9:00 a.m. sharp with the Head of City Planning about our land application. Although we were there at the appointed time, he was not. After 45 minutes waiting we decided to give up. We did manage to get some helpful information from his charming assistant, who said he would "use his influence" to get us a secure meeting time. We shall see...
We then proceeded to the Savoy for a few last moments to sit and go over details before taking Cheri to the airport. Our new friend Pauline was there, and she sat with us for a drink. We got her advice on how best to make international cell phone calls--a must with Cheri heading back to the U.S. and Jen beginning her first solo flight in Zambia. We also asked Pauline about average Zambian salaries to help us make good decisions on compensation for contract workers for upcoming projects. We were shocked to find that even someone with a job like hers--a managerial, full-time position--makes only 400,000 kwacha per month (just over $100). For those of you who may not have followed our past blogs, living expenses in Zambia are not cheap. When we go to the local grocery store, we spend at least as much per person as we do back in the U.S. Needless to say, almost no one here can afford to eat the things we do--prepared foods, cheese, yoghurt, juice.
Pauline
We finished up our meeting and headed for the airport. The 15-minute drive reminded us how very grateful we are to have flown directly into Ndola instead of coming through Lusaka! Though tiny, the airport in Ndola is quite pleasant. As we sat and shared a last drink, we remarked that perhaps we will model the courtyard area of the new community center after the beautiful outdoor airport cafe.
Sending Cheri on her way, I (Jen) set off as the lone ranger. All day I got the same response when people heard that Cheri is gone and I am still here: Oh, you will be lonely. But we will take care of you. Africa, or at least Zambia, is a group-oriented society. People never seem to need or even want their "own space." It is hard for them to imagine that I could be content being on my own. And, being in a foreign land with only marginal ability to communicate with those around me and much left to do, perhaps they are right. Time will tell. (As I was writing this I received a phone call from Agness saying, "I thought to myself I better call this girl before she just gets too lonely." No small favor since no one ever has enough money to buy "talk time" on her cell phone. I get the sense I will be well cared for.)
After the airport, I headed to the internet cafe to talk with Godfrey about how our computer students are doing, to set up the internet account for Living Compassion colleagues here, and to see if he would be interested in serving on our Board in Zambia. He reported that our group is catching on quickly to computer basics and will be able to begin internet training in the next few lessons. He seemed excited at the prospect of serving on the Board and said he would consider it and get back to us.
Gershom (our driver) and I headed back to the guesthouse for a very quick lunch before gooing to Kantolomba to meet with the engineer about our well. Theresa, our Coordinator, and I walked with the two engineers through the new property we are about to buy. We discussed where best to drill the well and what would be a good plan for bringing the water from the well down to the community. We discussed many options and decided we would each go and consider what will work best and meet again. As we returned to our cars, I pointed at the dozens of children who had gathered around and said it is these little guys who will be recipients of this priceless, clean water. "Yes," the head engineer said, "We really want to help. We want to be involved in projects helping the people." He then went on to explain that he grew up in a compound much like Kantolomba outside of Lusaka. When I asked him how he "made it," he talked about his mother and his own determination. Theresa and I looked at each other in amazement as he told a life story almost identical to her own. She told him she had grown up "right here," and that she wants to give back some of what she has so gratefully received. We all agreed that he would be a great resource for our project, not just as an engineer but as an inspiration to the young people.
In search of the best drilling site.
On our way back into town we stopped to pick up Mrs. Kapenda. This was my first time seeing her this visit. It is always a pleasure. In many ways she is the matriarch of Living Compassion in Zambia. We took her to run an errand, and Theresa and I went to buy a new mattress and backpack for Yeta, the oldest of the children in the Living Compassion House. It was still early so we decided to go by the House to deliver the items to Yeta. As we passed Masala School, we heard shouts and looked over to see Matthew, Kaleshi, and a friend just leaving school to walk home. They were beside themselves with excitement to see us and score a ride home! As we approached the house, we saw Yeta and Annie with Hope (the baby) at a neighbor's house. They came running, and I hopped out, excited to see Hope for the first time this visit. Different from our stay in July, she was perfectly content to be handed right to me. Grace said she is used to us now. When Theresa ("Auntie B"--we can't figure out how the children got "Auntie B" from "Theresa") asked Hope, "Who has you?" Hope answered, "Musungu"--the white person. She is one year and ten months and from all accounts off the charts in intelligence. Since she is speaking only in Bemba, I can't vouch for that but can certainly attest to her cuteness. Yeta was thrilled with her mattress and backpack and went straight to the bedroom to replace the old ones. It has been a pleasure showing the children in the house that we are paying attention to their needs, listening, and following through, while not obliging their pleas for cell phones and satellite TV. Though there may be some disappointment, they feel cared for even in our refusal to provide those things.
We dropped Theresa at home, and I arrived at the guesthouse ready for my first night on my own. A delicious, creative concoction for dinner, writing the blog, organizing for tomorrow, and a hot shower concluded another full and rewarding day here in Zambia.