Last Saturday I left the Monastery on a very unusual assignment. As a monk I generally do not choose what work I will do. I simply get a note informing me of my task, and then I set out to accomplish it, whatever it may be. In this case, the only difference was that I was asked if I were willing:
Dave, How would you feel about going alone to Africa in September? Gasshō
I will admit that I hesitated for a moment at the word "alone." I have been to Zambia many times now, but never on my own. I have never been solely responsible for the success of one of our missions there. I quickly saw the obvious, however, that I would not be alone at all: there are dozens of wonderful people in Ndola who know and love me, and would do everything in their power to keep me safe and comfortable. Besides, they are the ones that make the magic happen, not us. We are just along for the ride. With that realization I could only say yes, and then count my many blessings.
That was two months ago. It is now Tuesday evening, September 16, and I have arrived at last in Ndola, after three days spent in transporting my body from California, with all of the cramped spaces and bad food that this entails. Veteran blog-readers will remember the routine: the interminable flight to South Africa; pizza and a jet-lagged night at the Airport Game Lodge in Johannesburg; the dash to the airport the next morning to be on time for the delayed (it's always delayed) hop to Ndola, the ritual latte during the wait; the flight itself; and then the big reward for all that effort and discomfort: being greeted at the tiny airport in Ndola by one of the most beautiful people in the world, Theresa Kapenda.
View from the Game Lodge porch.
Waiting for supper in the gazebo.
One of our close friends in Johannesburg.
The traditional pre-flight latte
Theresa's smile was as generous as ever. I cannot say how wonderful it was to see her after so many strange faces for so long. She gave me a very big hug, and then we piled into the taxi she had brought to carry me and my things to town.
Home at last
Theresa beside the taxi
Along the way she gave me the news from Kantolomba. Living Compassion has suddenly become a very big deal in the community, she told me. This summer we hired two carpenters to install new roofs on the 19 houses belonging to the people we employ in the community. These roofs are being financed by loans from individuals in the United States. Over the past couple of months, one by one, shiny metal roofs have appeared here and there in the compound. This, more than anything else we have done--more than the clean water, more than the impressive building that is nearly completed on our property--has attracted the attention of the community. When I asked Theresa for the reason, she said, "The people are saying that we take care of the people of Kantolomba. Other groups have come here to build things, but they did not care, and they do not stay--Living Compassion cares, and is committed to the people. The people are saying that those who have joined with Living Compassion are healthy, and their children are healthy. And now they have new roofs, so their homes will not wash away during the rainy season."
After the usual food-and-water errands, we drove up to Castle Lodge, our home away from home in Ndola. Eunice, the manager and owner, greeted us with her unstoppable enthusiasm while I wondered at the gigantic changes that have happened at the lodge since I was last here. People will likely remember from the summer's blog that Eunice is quickly turning her modest guesthouse into an international spa and resort (the spa idea is new). As always, she is on fire with new ideas and possibilities, and she shared these with us on an impromptu tour.
Eunice, glowing as usual
The gigantic thatched dining pavilion at sunset. Seats 250 or more.
Theresa and I continued our conversation on the porch of my handsome room. When I asked her about the effect of our project on the women who work for Living Compassion and make it all happen, she said, "Living Compassion is a true blessing for the women. We are admired by others. We are given respect." Then she told me that every month, when the women get paid, they all walk to the Lubuto market together with their children, and come back with giant sacks of mealy-meal (corn grits) on their heads, and containers of cooking oil in their hands. People stare at them as they come home with so much food. Most of the people in Kantolomba eke out a living, at best, and can only afford to buy tiny bags of mealy-meal at a time. They are impressed by what the women have accomplished in being able to support their families as they do.
Theresa
A shy monk
Theresa also told me many stories of the changes that have happened in people's lives as a result of the work we are all doing (I hope to share some of them as a part of a future blog). It is an exciting time to be a part of Living Compassion in Kantolomba right now. I can't wait until tomorrow, when I will be able to see it for myself.
Theresa and I enjoyed an hour together in this way, talking things over and planning for the week. We have many fun and exciting adventures ahead of us, I feel sure. Stay tuned.
My new office and kitchen