“Hear the word of the Lord…” Hosea 4:1

Today we were invited to the United Church of Christ in Twapia by their chairman, and our favorite welder, William. But a funny thing happened on the way…we got a little lost in Twapia. William told us the service was held in the school, but we didn’t know which school. So we stopped and asked, several times, and the directions were always the same – just go this way – and a crooked hand pointing to the right. Finally one man said, “In fact I am going there, and I will take you.” So he hopped in the back seat and led us down one of the worst paths we have traveled on yet. The dirt road was extremely narrow and had deep, deep ruts. We passed churches and homes, and people everywhere. Everyone dressed in their best – many of the men in suits or dress shirts with ties, and the women in beautiful shetanges with matching headdresses. All of this on a very windy day, with the copper colored dust swirling around everyone as they walked to church. But they didn’t seem to notice. Thankfully it wasn’t long before our guide said, “Turn just this way” with another curved hand pointing to the right. And so we had arrived – at the United Church of Zambia. Since we couldn’t call William, and we had no idea how else to find his church, we stayed. Before we could even get out of the car, two young boys were at our side, huge smiles and hands outstretched, greeting us with “mulishani” which means how are you. We responded “bwino, bwino” which means very well, and they giggled, running off into the crowd. As we rounded the corner to enter the church, we saw a procession entering the far left of the church. It was a long line, rounding the opposite corner, softly singing and dancing in a sort of rhythmic rocking motion as they entered the church. We were escorted to our seats by a lovely young woman who greeted us warmly and welcomed us to worship. The procession continued to the front of the church, until all forty members of the choir were in place in front of the congregation. Then they erupted into song. The walls shook, as the leader sang the first words, and the choir echoed in response. I looked around the church, noticing the decorative streamers hanging from the rafters, the smooth concrete floor, and the poster of a white Jesus behind the minister’s lectern. Then it happened. A man knelt beside Ron, and escorted him outside, motioning for me to stay. Very soon he returned to escort me outside. Now we were in trouble, they had asked us to leave the church! They explained this was only to welcome us, and so the secretary could record our names and where we are from, and also to provide an interpreter for us since the entire service is in Bemba. We followed Abraham, a very nice young man back to our seats, where we literally sat shoulder to shoulder for the remaining 2-1/2 hours. The church was filled to capacity. We learned later there were 365 in attendance today. The first part of the service concentrated on songs of praise, and prayers. During the prayers, which lasted quite some time, everyone slipped from their seat to their knees on the concrete floor. Once again I was reminded of the incredible strength we witness each and every day, and the great faith that exists in the communities we visit. In addition to the forty member choir, there were two sub choirs. Each of the smaller choirs had approximately ten members, one comprised entirely of the elderly, who formed a circle in front of the church each time they sang, and the other was young people who raised their hands and voices in worship. The secretary came forward to make the daily announcements, and we were officially welcomed to the service, as she asked us to stand, and the congregation clapped three times, each clap loud and distinct, welcoming us in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Then the main choir began singing again – glorious, strong, harmony. And then the drums came. They brought three huge drums forward, the traditional kind hewn from trees and the tops covered with goat skin, and soon a flat straw shaker filled with seeds joined in. And the choir began dancing – purposefully, each step and hand motion with a meaning. Abraham said they were telling the story of Ezekiel. It was powerful – the beat of the drums, the deep harmony of all those strong voices, the dance, the expressions on their faces, their respect – it was truly Spirit-filled. Then the choir members turned one to face the other, continuing to sing and dance, and then looking to either side, front and behind. Now they were looking for their shepherd. They know he is always near. Then we heard the lessons for the day: Hosea 4:1-7 and James 2:1-13. The offering was of course accompanied by music, and ushers led each row forward to place their offering in a basket, or some who had envelopes placed them in a wooden structure with numbers on the front. This is when we saw our friend Peter Zimba, the chairman from Mansansa. He stopped to greet us briefly as he returned to his seat. How remarkable that we would see him today, at a church so far from his home. Following the offering was the gospel reading of Luke 4:14-21. During all of the readings, the ushers moved throughout the church, holding T-shaped wooden signs with “silent” printed in large red letters on one side and “tondola” on the other, just as a reminder to the congregation to be still and listen to the word of God. The gospel was followed by the sermon. Today’s message was social responsibility, and sharing our gifts. While each man is blessed with a gift, no matter what it is, God has given it to him to share. If his gift is education, then he must share what he has learned. If his gift is wealth, then he must share with those who are suffering in the depths of poverty. If his gift is joy, then he must share with those who are unhappy. The service ended with more tremendous music, the choirs and congregation singing together. Abraham led us outside, immediately following the minister, secretary and those assisting with the service. Once again, we were honored to stand in line with the minister and greet each person as they left the church. The girls curtseyed, and everyone shook our hand in the usual manner – with their left hand under their right arm, one more demonstration of respect. Some spoke English, some Bemba, but they all smiled. We are so blessed in our time here. Although the path may not always be smooth, and the journey may take a detour here and there, we are so richly blessed wherever we go.

We did see William later, explained our dilemma in finding the church, and with his usual huge smile, he said he’ll make sure we find him next Sunday.

“Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained by living a godly life.” Proverbs 16:31

Not a day passes that we don’t give someone a lift into or out of George. If it’s the truck, the bed is usually filled with people struggling with heavy loads, small children giggling and smiling, or elderly women. I limit my transport to people I know, children or the elderly. It still amazes me to see women with babies tied on their backs with shetanges climb so effortlessly onto the back of the truck. Or pregnant women, put one foot on top of the tire and then whoever is already in back pull them inside. I can’t get my foot anywhere near the top of the tire! There is one man I’ll never forget. There was a small group of women and children near the entrance to George, on their way home. As the truck stopped, I turned to watch through the back window of the truck, and wave as the children easily slid on. Then I saw a man walking slowly toward the truck. His head was crowned with gray hair, his face gnarled with age, appearing to be more than 80 years old. It didn’t matter that the temperature was well over ninety degrees, the hot noon day sun beating straight down on us. He was dressed in a slightly tattered green suit complete with a tie. He walked with a crutch, which helped to hide a definite limp and the frailty of his gait. He waved his crutch in the air, signaling that he wanted a lift also. And so I watched as this tiny gray haired man scaled the side of the truck. He tossed the crutch in the back, grasped the side of the truck with both hands and then heaved his bad leg over first. Then two of the women pulled the rest of him up, over and in. The ride into George is not an easy one. It is a dusty dirt road filled with holes followed by craters followed by rocks – over and over and over again. It is a long, slow, bumpy drive – especially in the back of the truck. But each time I looked, this elderly gentleman was wearing a big toothy grin. When the truck stopped I said a silent prayer as I watched this man carefully lower himself over the side of the truck, the women surrounding him with outstretched arms, making sure he didn’t fall. The women and children waved, clapped their hands in the traditional thank you, and called out “Natotela” which means thank you in Bemba. But the elderly man, slowly and purposefully made his way to the driver’s side of the truck. He looked up at Ron, smiling all the while, and in his very best English, each word pronounced distinctly and very precisely, said “I thank you. Thank you for helping me. And may God bless you always.” It is so humbling. His respect for us was so great…and ours for him. As he stood there, looking up at Ron, I noticed his ill-fitting spectacles, the aluminum crutch, and his big smile, and it suddenly struck me that these things were the result of our clinic several weeks earlier. The ride into George was the least of it. The glasses and the crutch help him on his journey every single day. There is no photograph of this gentleman. The only picture is the one we hold in our minds and treasure in our hearts.

“From his abundance we have all received one gracious blessing after another.” John 1:16

Yesterday began a little differently than usual. I left Ron home, resting and praying he will soon feel better. As I drove from town into George, something didn’t seem quite right. The usual police check point on the road between town and George was removed. The barrels normally in the middle of the road were not there, nor were the police officers. So, I wondered, and just drove on. As I drove on, I noticed police officers stationed at each dirt road off the highway. Then I really wondered. They weren’t brandishing weapons, so I wasn’t worried. Yet I wondered if maybe there had been some trouble in the area. When I met up with Foster at George, he explained that there was no trouble, just that President Mwanawasa was in Ndola for the opening of a gem factory and the dedication of a road in Luanshya. I was told the police are there just as extra protection along any highway he may travel. Later in the day, we were also detained as traffic was stopped for about 20 minutes, waiting for the President’s motorcade to pass through downtown. Yesterday was also my first solo shopping experience in Twapia. I needed worm medication for baby Frederick, and was advised by Godwin that I could find it in Twapia. So, I drove the crater filled road into Twapia and parked in an open area near the market. Although the drug stores don’t have many medications, there are several tiny drug stores in Twapia, so I thought my chances were good. So I revisited the drug store where Fridah had taken me. I was in luck, because the girl inside spoke English. The bad news was she didn’t have the medication. But she said she knew a place. So, she quickly led me down the winding, rocky path to another small store, interpreted what was needed, and then she was off like a flash – back to her store. I walked back to thank her for her kindness and asked if she would mind if I took a “snap” of her. She giggled, said something in Bemba to a man in the store, then proudly posed behind her counter.

Today I am happy to say that Ron is feeling better. We spent the day together, picking up and delivering steel bars to be drilled for the roof, and took huge round bars for cutting and welding to the William the Welder. We met with Brown Banda and visited the sawmill again to check on our order for 6 meter timbers for the headers on the porch and veranda. We also stopped at our school at George to take measurements so we could estimate how much paint will be needed to paint the two classrooms. When we arrived, there was a large crowd gathered in back of the school. Godwin explained that every Wednesday another NGO is there for a malnutrition program. They have a baby scale, and weigh the children to make sure they are progressing, and also give 1kg each of beans and soya, which is used to make porridge. The women were cooking greens and nshima. Some of the older children were grinding ground nuts for the little ones, using a big stone bowl and a long branch which had been smoothed over so no rough edges remained, pounding and mashing the nuts, like an antique mortar and pestle. There was also a small group there from Italy – four men and one woman. They only spoke a few words of English, so all I could find out is this was their first day in Africa and they will be here for 7 days. I never did discover who they came with or what they are doing, but like the OMNI team, their enthusiasm and excitement were very apparent. As we were trying to communicate with one another, the women from the village formed a large circle and began singing and dancing. There were women of all ages, and even a few men, all clapping their hands in time with the song, and singing and laughing at one another as they each took turns entering the center of the circle to dance alone. Whoever was in the center really performed, adding a little more hip motion to the dance. Young and old alike, all made it to the center, enjoying one another, and having such a good time. Then they started bringing the white people in, one by one, taking each of us by the hand and inviting us to join in the outer circle. Then, one, by one, they brought us into the center ring as well. Some of the Italian men did a little do-si-do which they found very amusing, and the crowd really howled when one of the men did a few Michael Jackson moves, even leaping into the air. It was an incredible time of sharing and fun and laughter, where language was no longer a barrier. What a wonderful blessing. I’m so glad we went to check on painting the classrooms today!

“Love each other as brothers and sisters.” 1Peter 3:8

It’s still unbelievable to me how fragile life is here and that the loss of life has become an every day occurrence. I asked Foster how many siblings he has, and he simply stated, “Once we were seven, now we are three.” It’s just the way it is. I imagine that’s why the extended family is so very important here. I learned that in Zambia there is no word for uncle, aunt or cousin. If the uncle is older than your father he is your “big father”, if he is younger he is your “small father”. The same is true for aunts. Your cousins are your brothers and sisters, and your nieces and nephews are your sons and daughters – and there is no difference in status. Your nieces and nephews (most especially if they live with you) are treated exactly the same as your children. That’s the origin of the saying “In Africa there are no orphans.” When your brother or sister dies, their child is automatically your child. I sometimes forget that life expectancy here is a mere 32 years of age. I see older people. But I also forget that most of the time their appearance is not an accurate reflection of their age. Someone may appear to be seventy years old, when they are actually only fifty years old. And the reverse is true for children. Because so many are malnourished, they are smaller and appear much younger than they actually are. I don’t think I’ll ever forget Steven, a small boy we saw at the clinic in Mansansa. He was the first patient I treated in wound care with Rusty and Jon. He had a severe burn on his left arm, a result of being epileptic and falling into a fire during a seizure. He was sweet and gentle, never flinching as we treated his burn, and had the most beautiful big brown eyes. I thought he was around eight years old. He was fourteen.

Then there are cases like baby Frederick. We saw this tiny little miracle today. His mother brought him to George for a visit with us, making the long trek from Dag Hammarskjöld. The first time we saw him, about a month ago, he was so weak and malnourished he was unable to lift his head or eat. Today he doesn’t stop eating! They arrived at lunch time at the project site and the men fixed a plate of nshima and fish for them. Frederick dug in, and ate all the nshima. He picked up the fish head, not too sure about it, and just watched as it dangled from his fingertips. I don’t think I would even pick it up! We were so happy to see him alert, not only eating but feeding himself, and smiling.

We also attempted to purchase books for Teddy’s next term at college. Seems like a simple enough thing, you take the list, go to the book store, and it’s done. Not so. We went to the book stores - they looked on the shelves, they looked on their lists, they looked to see if they could order them – negative on all counts. And it’s not like in the U.S. where you visit the college campus book store, pay an exorbitant amount of money, and walk out with the books. There is no book store on campus. We were advised by the merchants in town that these books are generally available only from the street vendors. Amazing! And too bad. The street vendors have all been chased away by the police force here in Ndola. So, we will continue to search. Typically the street vendors display their wares either on a blanket or a straw mat placed on the sidewalk. They sell everything from food, sunglasses, and books to electric coils for your stove. As you pass by, they call out to you “Madame, see, only 10,000 kwacha.”

Sorry to report that Ron is still not feeling well. He spent most of Sunday in bed, and came home around 15 hours today to rest. Hopefully tomorrow he will be feeling much better.

Thanks again for all the prayers, and we are really enjoying all the comments on the blog. It’s so good to hear from you all. Wish you could all be here! And Charlie, we haven’t seen one drop of rain so far. Come October, after we leave, it will start raining and won’t stop for a couple of months! One more reason we need that roof completed.


There is a new twist in the proceedings here at Setanga Lodge. In addition to our routine power outages, we can now add no phone service periodically (which translates into no internet service), and the water pump has been malfunctioning for the past several days which means no cold water (which means no bath). Oh well, we’re not here for the technology. So far, we have been very, very fortunate. So, this blog was meant to be posted last night, but I’ve come to the internet café this morning to post. Hope the picture will download!

“Sing praise songs to God…Raise the roof!” Isaiah 12:5

Think back to yesteryear and the Walton’s television show, and try to remember the sawmill they used. Ron, Philemon and Eric, our carpenter went to pick up timbers at the sawmill in Ndola yesterday. The yard was filled with pine logs and mountains of sawdust. The logs are delivered by truck, rolled from the truck into haphazard piles, then carried to the mill area by two men. There were three pine tree logs earmarked for us, all about 20 feet long and 2 feet in diameter which were cut into four timbers. The men placed each log on the saw table, and began cutting our timbers with a saw blade that appeared roughly three feet in diameter, water flowing over it to reduce friction. It was interesting that no one observed any kind of measurements being taken, yet all four timbers came out perfectly? These four timbers were for the peak of the roof, and the joists are then placed on top of them. And so, yesterday we saw the roof begin to take shape on the children’s home.
Foster and I went in search of baby Frederick yesterday. He was the child who had been admitted to Children’s Hospital suffering from malnutrition, and has since been discharged. We asked Godwin if he knew how to find the home. He said “I know the place.” So we drove, and we drove. We drove down the main highway to Dag Hammarskjöld, a neighboring community to George. The drive into Dag Hammarskjöld is like a beautiful painting; tall, tall pines lining the narrow dirt road which we followed for 5 kilometers. Then into an open area filled with high tension wires where the government is building a large girl’s high school. Then onto a less than single lane dirt path, winding to and fro, up and down, elephant grass high along the sides for another 5 kilometers, until we finally reached the home of Frederick Kalunga. It is difficult to imagine that the tiny woman we know as Frederick’s mother had carried her sick child such a great distance, walking for what must have been many, many hours to reach our clinic. The area they live in is filled with elephant grass, and homes are not as close together as we normally see. We were warmly greeted by the grandmother, also tiny and slight of frame, who said her daughter had taken her family to Nduba Farms some distance away, to look for work. Unfortunately it was near dark, so we were not able to travel on. We will see them another day.
Today I drove to Kasongo to see Fridah, Violet and Peter. Fridah was in classes all last week, completing a TB-HIV Adherence Counseling Training Course in Luanshya. She proudly displayed her certificate of completion and t-shirt she had received, saying she had learned much. Unfortunately, Violet had not fared so well in Fridah’s absence, not having used the crutches last week, her casts were in very bad condition. Peter’s cast was solid, and he was wearing the orthopedic boot and using his cane as a crutch. When we removed the cast, Peter proudly walked across the room, and all the women cheered and clapped to see him walking on the bottom of his foot more than the side of his foot! His grandmother takes very, very good care of him. I learned today that Peter is a double orphan, and he and his older sister live with their grandparents. Fridah’s nearly two-year old niece, Blessings, was with us today, and was absolutely fascinated by the casting process. She watched intently the whole while Fridah and I knelt on the floor - her tiny little head perched on top of my shoulder, curious, but not afraid. Blessings requested a ride in the car, and Peter’s grandmother invited me to visit their home, so we all piled into the car and drove down another winding, dusty path to find their home. We visited a short while, and I met Peter’s older sister (about 9 or 10 years old). Blessings enjoyed the car ride – a tiny little voice saying “thank you” between a few tears, not wanting the ride to end.
Today, Ron is not feeling well – slight fever, coughing and the usual cold symptoms. He still picked up timbers and blocks. Hope his cold does not last long.

“Do not practice fortune-telling or witchcraft.” Leviticus 19:26

There is a whirlwind which they say appears at the same time every day at the project site. It is a wind which furiously whips the dusty ground into a small funnel that travels down the pathway in our gated area, and then disappears beyond the building. There is one worker who is known in the village to practice witchcraft. It is their belief that the small whirlwind each day is the result of witchcraft. Now they are sure of it. As the funnel came through the site, the only disturbance it caused was to the man known to practice witchcraft. As his shirt lie on the ground, it was caught in the fury of the whirlwind, totally disappearing along with the kwacha he had in the pocket. The men say he owed money to someone and they sent the whirlwind to retrieve it.
Today, Ron picked up most of the timbers ordered for the roof of the house. So, tomorrow the carpenter will begin that phase of construction. We believe (hope) that this work will proceed quickly, as they are worried the timbers will warp if they remain stacked on the ground. The guard house is also well under way, and they expect to have the block work completed by the end of day tomorrow. The men were really struggling with lowering the blocks into that deep septic pit (over 13 feet), lowering each brick one by one, from man to man and then down the make-shift ladder. After a brief evaluation, slip knots were tied on each end of a rope, allowing two men to continually lower the cement blocks down into the pit. They were happy to see how much easier the work was, and safer too. There is now scaffolding in the septic pit as they are quickly approaching ground level with the block work. Remember, the scaffolding is rickety planks wobbling between iron bars welded together. Today someone came to measure for the roof tiles. He looked at the building, walked around the outside, walked around the inside, and then finally came back outside. He looked at the bricklayer standing on the scaffolding, swaying to and fro a little, then looked at us and said, “If he can stand on it, so can I.” There wasn’t much confidence in his statement, but he made it to the top of the building!

“…even in darkness I cannot hide from you.” Psalm 139:12

The last few days have been busy, but dark! We continue to have problems with power outages at Setanga Lodge and around town, mostly in the late afternoon and evening. We have seen fireworks from the transformer behind the lodge, and it appears as though some of the electrical wires are welded together. It has become almost a daily occurrence to lose power, so if the electricity is on when we get home, we rush to cook dinner and bathe, hoping to complete at least this much before the next outage.
Ron has spent the last few days as truck driver, continuing to pick up and deliver cement blocks at the construction site. We were able to watch the blocks being made at Brown Banda’s yard. The cement is mixed by hand – bags of cement are mixed with stones, and sand forming a large pile on the ground. Then a depression is made in the middle of the pile and water is added. Using a shovel, turning the mixture over and over, the water is thoroughly incorporated, until it’s finally cement. Then another man fills a metal form to create the blocks. He fills the inside portion of a two part form, then beats the cement down with his shovel and adds more cement if needed. He then removes the inside form by standing on the outside edges, then the outside form easily slides off. The blocks are lined up singly across the yard and another man waters them for some time, and then they are left to cure. It’s a labor intensive project, and it seems that no two blocks are exactly the same.
It has become usual for us to pick up riders in the back of the truck when entering and leaving George. The George community does not have any stores or services, or any mills to grind their maize, so they must travel 3.5 kilometers to Twapia for their needs. We have picked up men carrying two 100kg sacks of maze (over 200 lbs) on the backs of their bicycles, to go to Twapia to have it ground into mealie meal, which is used to make the staple food of nshima. We have picked up elderly women carrying their bags of food. We picked up one man carrying a log on his head that was about a foot in diameter and longer than truck. Monday we picked up four boys, seven or eight years old as we headed out of George. They were all smiles, riding in the back of the truck, peering through the window at us, laughing and talking all the while. Later, we brought them back after their excursion to Twapia. They had gone to Twapia to buy the materials to make traps to catch rats to sell to the community for food. Evidently a common practice here, as we learned from these enterprising young boys!
Ron has also developed “Ron’s Road Crew”. He and Teddy have been using the dirt dug from the septic, and filling in the really big craters on the road to George! It’s still a rough ride, but everyone is thankful for this improvement, and we hope it will also help with the wear-and-tear on the vehicles.
Yesterday morning we began the production of having the OMNI Children’s Village sign installed at the roadside entrance. First we took the sign to William the welder at Twapia to have it bolted to steel poles. He advised the sign would be ready at 15 hours (3 pm). At 15 hours we loaded the truck with stone, sand, a bag of cement, a wheelbarrow, shovels, levels, one of the huge barrels of water, and Foster, Philemon, Vincent, Dixon, Godwin and Teddy. We stopped at the entrance, offloading the tools and everyone but Teddy, who went to Twapia with us. The sign was not ready. But William assured us it would be soon. We walked around Twapia for awhile, visited one of the mills where the maize is ground, and snacked on some fritters. As we walked through Twapia we were followed by Arnold. Arnold is a young man about 22 years old who wanders the streets of Twapia, taking shelter wherever he can, exhibits strange behavior and is constantly talking to himself. We saw him pour mealie meal over his head, tuck branches from a bush in his trousers, dance in the middle of the street, and he threw some small bits of trash into the truck. He was in constant motion. Teddy said Arnold causes no harm to anyone, and it’s just a pity that this all seems to have resulted from him taking the local drug called daggar. At 16:30 hours William appeared with the sign and we returned to find the holes dug for the sign, and the men waiting. Too bad the holes were not the same distance apart as the poles. So, they quickly redug one of the holes, mixed the cement in the wheelbarrow, and installed the sign. We are official.

“Sing to the Lord a new song, and His praise in the assembly of Saints.” Psalm 149:1

Philemon Phiri, our project engineer, invited us to attend his church this week. He came into town on public transportation, and met us at the entrance to Ndola Central Hospital, in order to guide us to his church. His church and home are located in the community of Mushili, the largest compound in Ndola. Philemon is unsure of the population there, but said it well over 50,000. We drove past the Masala Market Place, which we have been advised by Teddy is one of the best community markets for shopping. It was a bit of a drive, traveling on paved roadways for awhile, then onto the dirt roadways. Philemon told us during the drive that he is originally from the mountainous region of the Western Province in Zambia, some 900 kilometers away. His surname, Phiri means mountains. We stopped in front of a primitive looking wooden structure, with a metal sign in front which read “Bible Gospel Church in Africa”. There was not a parking area since everyone walks to church, so we just pulled off the road and parked near the sign. As we entered the church, we were greeted by warm smiles and handshakes by those who would soon be conducting the service. It was a little dark inside, the only light coming from between the wood slats which were nailed together, forming the walls of the church. The roof was made from the same, but covered with heavy plastic which we could hear rippling in the wind. The floor was dirt, but the marks remained where it had been carefully swept. The altar was a large area in the front, built up with concrete blocks covered with compacted dirt, and two large rugs. The back drop for the altar was a burgundy cloth, stretched the entire width of the building, with small tassels hanging from the upper edge. The pulpit was constructed of two by fours with pieces of lace pinned to the wood. There were benches to sit on, some with backs, and some without. Many of the benches were made from old crates, displaying the names of different companies. Philemon’s wife was already seated, but rushed to spread a beautiful blue shetange on the front bench, a place of great honor, next to the minister and his wife, where we were to be seated. The order of service is praise and worship, followed by the lesson for the day, collection of tithes and gifts, and finally announcements. Praise and worship was a series of proclamations followed by prayer. “God has many names. He is The Great Comforter (Amen!), The Great Healer (Amen!), The Almighty Lord of Lords (Amen!), He is whatever you need – He is the One and Only Who can satisfy all your needs (Alleluia!). One day with You, Lord, is better than a thousand without You. (Amen!)” This was followed by everyone in the congregation praying aloud, their own individual prayer of praise, thanking God for His Word and being all we need every day, all day long. Then a song – no musical instruments, just the glorious voice of the praise leader, echoed by men, women and children in perfect harmony. This succession of praise and worship continued for well over an hour, and ended when we all clapped for the Lord. This was followed by the lesson for the day. These were brief scripture readings followed by interpretation and stories to illustrate the reading. It was like a sermon and Sunday School all wrapped into one. During this time, an interpreter was brought forward, who not only translated into the local tribal language, but also mimicked the actions and inflections of the speaker. Today’s speaker was the secretary of the church. Today’s first lesson was Deuteronomy 30:19 – “Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses…Choose life so you and your descendents might live! You can make this choice by loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and committing yourself firmly to him…” There were many other readings and references to scripture, but all revolved around this first reading. Occasionally the “Amen!” was not loud enough, and the speaker’s response was “Hello?”, to which the congregation replied with a resounding “Amen!” Our final message was that God wants us be like the new wineskin (Luke 5:37), able to stretch and contain all His blessings. Don’t look for blessings and follow them; go forth and let the blessings follow you. Once again, this portion of the service lasted over an hour. Following this, two small baskets were retrieved from under the lectern by a young woman. She stood in front of the church, a basket in each hand, as each person came forward to deposit their offering. There was a beautiful little girl about six years old, in a lovely yellow dress, who walked past us after placing her offering in the basket. I thought she was returning to her seat, and then felt the gentle touch of one tiny finger on my hand. She stood next to me for several minutes, touching my hand over and over, I think fascinated by my white skin. I held her hand, she smiled, and then darted to the back of the church. Through the wood slats, we could see a small group of children outside. They were having a big discussion and pointing to where Ron and I were seated. We didn’t need to hear to know what was being said: “Did you see that? What? Those white faces! Where? There, inside the church!” They slowly crept nearer to the church, until there were three tiny faces peering between the wood slats. We smiled and waved, and they were off like a flash! We thought it was time for communion when another woman went to the side of the altar, and poured two glasses of juice and placed each on a saucer. Holding it with two hands, she very graciously presented the first to Ron with a deep curtsey, and then the second to me. We weren’t sure what to do. We looked to Philemon, who with a big smile said we were just supposed to drink it, and enjoy the refreshment! After this, Philemon was called to the altar and we were asked to stand and face the members as he introduced us. He explained the OMNI project at George, that we attend the Lutheran Church in the United States, how much he has been enjoying his time with us, and then thanked us for coming to pray with them today. After a few announcements, and another song of praise, we clapped for the Lord again, and then filed out of the church, bench by bench. As we left the church, we formed a reception line. As each person (adult and child alike) left the church, they shook hands down the line, bowing or curtseying, taking their place at the end of the line. This continued until we had greeted all sixty or more people in attendance today. Following some fellowship time in the blistering sun, we were privileged to accept Philemon’s invitation to visit his home and meet his children. We loaded the car with a half dozen people, and proceeded down the winding dirt roads to Philemon’s house. There we saw a concrete block building on a small plot of land, enclosed by a concrete fence. As we approached the doorway, we were greeted by one of the 18-month old twins, with a tiny little hand shake. The other twin started to cry when he saw us! Philemon and his wife have been married for nineteen years and have seven children in all, six boys and one girl. The oldest was not at home, but the rest ranged in age from twelve years to 18 months. The twelve year old boy had cooked nshima and relish (sauce and vegetables) over a small charcoal fire. He was busy washing hands and feeding the rest of the children as they all sat on the floor in the first room of the house. There were several rooms, and we were escorted into a room which contained a large desk, a small couch, and two chairs. We sat and talked for awhile, then went outside to see the pigeons and rabbits which they raise for food. There home has no electricity, or plumbing, but certainly contained an abundance of happy smiles. Today we were honored and privileged to be welcomed into Philemon’s church and home. God has blessed us with another good friend.

“Be strong and courageous, and do the work.” 1Chronicles 28:20

Today was all about manual labor. We went to the project site, ready to begin hauling sand from our sand pit, but the diggers were still busy scraping the sand from the sides of the pit. So, we had the opportunity to see our laborers in action. There were four brick layers working on four different areas of the house, installing the face bricks over the concrete blocks. For some, the scaffolding was comprised of two stacks of blocks with a board placed precariously between the stacks. For others, there was metal piping which had been welded together, with boards balancing between the pipe “ladders”. One man’s job was to make sure there were no protrusions on the bricks, and he would knock off any uneven edges with the edge of a hammer. The mortar was all mixed by hand, and then shoveled into a wheelbarrow. One of the men wheeled the mortar between the different work stations, depositing a shovel-full of mortar onto the wooden scaffolding as was needed. Each brick layer would scoop the mortar onto his trowel, smooth it over the brick already in place, lay the new brick on top, tap it into place, then use a level to make sure all was even. There was a separate production taking place in the rear of the house, at the hole for the septic. They were also mixing cement by hand, turning the mixture over and over with their shovels. They mix bags of the cement with stone, sand and water. The water is pumped from the bore hole across the site into huge barrels, about four feet high and two feet in diameter. Each barrel is then rolled to the work area, tipped on its side, or sometimes even picked up to pour the water into the cement mixture. Once the cement was mixed, it was shoveled into wheelbarrows and dropped into the deep, deep hole for the septic. Once several loads of cement were deposited, one of the men would climb the ladder to the bottom of the hole. The ladder is handmade as well, crudely fashioned out of wood strips nailed together. The man elected to be in the bottom of the hole was the only one with rubber boots. All the other men were barefoot or wearing flip-flops. So, he would climb to the bottom, and they would toss a shovel down to him, and it was his job to distribute the cement evenly over the bottom, wading through the heavy cement. This process was repeated until 8” of cement covered the bottom of the pit.
Then began our challenge. Just driving into the sand pit takes a bit of courage. The passageway is of course, full of craters and the sides are being peeled away by the sand diggers. The sand is soft and moist, making the way slippery and similar to being on snow covered roadways. And of course, there are always other trucks parked along the way, loading up with sand, having left only inches to be able to pass by! Once we have negotiated our way into the pit, and backed into our designated area, the back breaking work of shoveling the sand into the truck began. Thankfully, my job is that of photographer! Today, there were two sand diggers, Ron and Godwin on site to load approximately ten tons of sand into the truck, and then unload it all at the construction site. This was two trips in and out of the pit, holding our breath all the while. The men here work hard, and without complaint, even though most have no shoes or only flip-flops to wear, and have walked quite a long distance to come to work. And they are so very, very strong. Even those slight of frame are able to carry the heaviest of loads. Today’s work came to a brief standstill, when Ron’s age was revealed. The shovels stopped and there was a brief moment of silence, followed by the typical Zambian exclamations of surprise. “Aye!” and “Shuuure!” They were amazed that a man of 65 years was able to do this work. Godwin, who is 49 years old, said that in Zambia by the time you reach 65 you are very old, unable to work, and oftentimes must be fed by someone else or starve! Now it was Godwin asking Ron “to what do you attribute your strength?”

“…Don’t be afraid. Just have faith and she will be healed.” Luke 8:50

Our day began at Kasongo, where we returned to assist with recasting Violet and Peter’s club feet. Faithful Friedah was ready and waiting when we arrived. We were happy to see Peter wearing his shoe/boot Dr. Steve had given him, and Violet was using her crutches. The casts were in much better condition than previous weeks, and there was marked improvement for both children, but especially for Violet. The alignment of her little feet was much straighter, and she complained that the ball of her foot hurt sometimes. She has been walking on her toes, and not the side of her foot! Friedah was so excited to share this wonderful news with us.
We also learned from Friedah that Bridget had a prescription from the hospital which needed to be filled. We said we would go into to town to the drug store, but she said there was no need for that long drive. We could go to the drug store at Twapia, which is much closer. Twapia is the community across the street from George, which is where the neighboring compounds do their shopping. Believe me, you haven’t shopped until you’ve shopped at Twapia! Friedah directed us to the parking lot, a small area in front of the lines of stores, where a few vehicles were randomly parked, avoiding the huge craters and the sharp stones protruding from the dirt. Then we were off walking. Down narrow passageways, between small stands constructed of rugged timbers, cardboard roofs, and when needed, doorways covered with empty cement bags stitched together. It was difficult to take in all our surroundings as we walked, because we had to watch our every step. The pathway is uneven with mounds of stones, and small dirt craters similar to those on the roadways, and every so often there was a small puddle to step over. We passed tomatoes, greens, fish, clothing, shoes, household items, lace, hardware – anything you could possibly want. It was the fourth drug store that finally had the Amoxycillin we were looking for. I was amazed that there were four drug stores in Twapia! But they aren’t like the drug stores in the U.S. The drug store was maybe 5’ x 10’, constructed out of old scraps of wood, and the front painted yellow with the words “Drug Store” etched on the front. Inside there were about five wooden shelves with a few over-the-counter medicines and even fewer prescription medications. Most of the medicines were for malaria, fever, and deworming. Then I saw the prescription the hospital had written. Friedah produced a small scrap of paper which contained Bridget’s name, the medication, and the dosage. The young woman behind the counter filled a small plastic bag with the pills, and returned the prescription to Friedah. Ron soon appeared with a small bag of treats. While we were in the drug store, he had found his way to a woman cooking fritters over a small charcoal fire. They are a sweet dough, deep fried, which cost only 200 kwacha each (about 5 cents). Hot off the fire, and so delicious!
Then we were off to the Rotary meeting in town. Once again we received a very warm welcome, as each member greets us with a smile and that distinctive Zambian handshake. We took the laptop with us today so the members could see the progress at the building site. They were happy to see the face bricks being installed on the building, a sure sign of progress. Mr. Sharma, our Zambian angel here on earth, received a well deserved round of applause as he was recognized for providing warehouse storage, and continuing to provide transportation for the cement. Every time we visit Rotary, someone volunteers to help in some way. Today, Martin, from the Times of Zambia committed to printing an article about the OMNI project.

"Three things will last forever - faith, hope, and love - and the greatest of these is love." 1Corinthians 13:13

Last Friday, at the Rotary meeting, one of the guests in attendance was the Postmaster General. We told him that we had yet to receive any of the packages mailed to us, he took our information, and within a couple of hours we received a call that one of the packages had been located. We went to the post office Saturday to retrieve the package, but were told since the value was listed as $100 it had to be opened by a custom’s official. If it had been valued at less than $100, we could have just taken it with us. Monday being the Farmer’s Day Holiday, we went first thing Tuesday morning to meet with the customs official. We soon learned that our package was being held for $65 ransom! We were glad to receive the package from home, but have learned the valuable lesson to always value packages at less than $100. But, I have a feeling that policy probably changes with each package delivered. We also renewed our passports for one more month. Unbelievably, this was this simplest, easiest thing we have done since arriving in Zambia. We went to the immigration office, the officer asked how he could help us, we said we’d like to stay another month, stamp, stamp – and we were done!
Then we were off to Garneton again, to spend another day with the container. We picked up Teddy on the way, and were grateful that he met us at the roadside in front of George, saving us the tortuous drive down that crater filled roadway! Ron, Teddy and I loaded the truck with the remaining shoes, chalkboard, steel building - everything except the 33’ beams, one generator and a few tools that might still be needed at the container. There were crates which had to be pried open with crow bars. But the boxes inside the crates just disintegrated, having been eaten away by some very industrious termites, leaving bolts and nuts and other small pieces in the bottom of the crate, all mixed with the termite dust. Teddy hopped inside one crate, sifting through the dust, until he located each and every bolt, nut, and screw. I must have swept at least 50 pounds of termite dust out of the container, knocking down their tunneling as I went. Teddy scavenged some pieces of heavier cardboard to repair the roof of his home at George. We tied down the truck, and on our way again. We were flagged down by a man on the dirt road near the farm, asking for a job. A brief argument in Bemba ensued, as Teddy explained we did not have any jobs for hire, but the man refused to believe him. As always it’s such a pleasure talking with Teddy during the drive. We learned that his favorite subject in college is psychology, he was elected as union steward at his dormitory (he’s in charge when the matron is gone), the dormitory is several kilometers from the campus, he shares a room with five other men, there is a cafeteria where the students do all their own cooking (yes, they cook nshima and kapenta), and they must be in their rooms by 7pm or they will be disciplined. Also during the drive home, once again, Ron attracted the attention of an officer at a police check point. The officer only wanted to have a little fun I guess, as he asked to see Ron’s driving permit. When he saw the international permit he laughingly asked just how many countries Ron is permitted to drive in, then waved us on. There was also a near miss with a pedestrian, as an elderly man who had apparently been drinking, stepped right in front of the truck. The brakes screeched, Ron laid on the horn, and the man stepped back just in time. There was a long period of silence, as all our hearts were pounding after that.
Wednesday, back to George, this time to pick up Teddy and Rodrick, as the last of the steel beams at the container would require a lot of muscle. There were 16 beams which when loaded on the truck, extended out the back about four feet, and over the roof of the truck nearly seven feet. They cut a few 2x4’s with the leatherman, nailed them together in an “L”, and used this to secure the portion of the beams at the rear of the truck. The rope was tied over and under and every which way they could, they fastened pieces of red cloth to the front and back of the beams, and even used some of the iridescent pink duct tape. It was a slow drive back to George, but the beams remained secure. And now, it is with great joy we can say, the container is empty. Hallelujah! Back home, after a long hard day, and the power was out, and stayed out until after bedtime. And when it’s dark here, it’s really dark! And no bath again – oh well!
Thursday is the usual day for the power to be out – hoping not tonight again! Today much of the day was spent at George. The huge iron gates which enclose the George School yard, needed to be repaired. The hinges were broken, wired together as a temporary fix, but very dangerous, especially with so many children around. We located a welder across the way, at Twapia who said he could do the job. William is a very pleasant man, speaks English, and has the warmest smile you can imagine. We drove to his welding shop, and were a little confused when we saw the sign “bananas for sale”. Then we saw the archaic welding equipment at the corner of the store. Dual professions are not unusual in the communities here. He is a welder who sells bananas, and also happens to be the chairman of Twapia (similar to a mayor in the U.S.)! The gates were removed from George, loaded on the truck, and taken to Twapia for William to weld. Removing the gates proved to be very difficult due to a lot of rust on the bolts, which looked as though it had been there for centuries. Teddy, Ron and Godwin drew quite a crowd as they worked together using crescent wrenches, channel locks, a hammer, a chisel, a crow bar, a hacksaw, and a little bit of oil to loosen and remove the bolts. We watched as William sat on the frame of a child’s school chair, no back or seat on the chair, put on a pair of sunglasses and began welding.
We feasted on bananas for lunch today (2 kg for K2,000), and drove to Kasongo while William completed the welding job. Bridget was released from the hospital yesterday, and we visited her in her home, wanting to make sure all was well. She was all smiles, and feeling much, much better. In fact, she is totally well according to her aunt. We asked about the baby, and she peeled back the layers of blankets and shetanges to reveal his sweet little face, sound asleep. We asked if the baby had a name yet. Another huge smile. His name is Ron.

"The Lord has done great things for us and we are filled with joy." Psalm 126:3

It was a day of great joy. When we arrived at the project site the men were mixing the cement, scaling the scaffolding, and beginning the final course of brick on the house. Mr. Banda was there as well, supervising the work. We watched as one of the workers used a hand drill, the kind you turn round and round, to make a hole in one of the boards being used for scaffolding.
Incredible! The hole was perfect, and complete in only a few seconds. This house is being built the way our ancestors worked so many years ago, and it is amazing to witness. Hard working, strong men, working together - everything done by hand. There are no machines, no electricity, no battery operated anything - it's 100% manpower.
We walked into George and found Teddy busy working at his pedal sewing machine in front of his home. He was sewing cloth to be used for chairs which we have seen for sale by the roadside. They are known as "lazy man chairs", because they are low to the ground and meant for lounging. He said he would later construct the wood frames as well. So, now we know Teddy as school teacher, child advocate, tailor and carpenter. But we were there to pick him up for another trip to Garneton for another load from the container. It was a very enjoyable ride, talking with Teddy all the way. We were scolded by school teacher Teddy for not studying our Bemba dictionary to learn more words! We also laughed at a few misunderstood words, and the fact that we have difficulty understanding each other's accents. But the best part of our journey was just spending time with Teddy, who has become such a dear friend. Teddy spent a great deal of time educating us on the Zambian culture, especially in regards to marriage. It seems that a young man may choose his own bride. Once the woman consents, the marriage must be approved by both parents, and the maternal uncles. The maternal uncle actually has more authority in family matters, because there is no doubt that he is a blood relative. Once the parents of the groom approve of the potential wife, a negotiator meets with the family of the bride. He must bring 10,000 kwacha (about $2.50) on a white plate with white powder from a tuber (something like a potato). The money shows good faith and the ability to provide for the new bride, and the white plate and powder are symbolic of their trust and purity of heart. The bride's family negotiates for the best "price" for their daughter, listing all of her best qualities - her beauty is great, she is an excellent cook and housekeeper, she is educated, etc. The negotiator's job is to not surrender more of the groom's family assets than necessary. So, maybe they will settle on another 20,000 kwacha and a goat. In the cities, only money is exchanged - no goods or livestock. After a short time, they will then be married, usually in a small ceremony at a church. If after some time, the groom's family decides the marriage is not good, the couple must separate. Maybe the mother-in-law and the bride do not get along. Then the marriage is off, and the groom's family will receive back the initial 10,000 kwacha investment. Whatever else was included in the dowry is kept by the bride's family.
We did make it to Garneton and loaded the truck, with only the steel building and some tools remaining in the container. That will be a project. Too bad the building is longer than the truck! We called Foster as we were passing through Kitwe, and met up with him at the BP Station. There are still mechanical problems with the old vehicle which he has been trying to resolve, but he will be in Ndola tomorrow. It was good to see him after a week.
As we were driving the long road from Kitwe to Ndola, we passed a bus stopped alongside the edge of the road. Not an unusual occurrence, except the driver was hanging out the window and waving like mad. Yes, we recognized this man and pulled over right away. By this time, Lingo, our bus driver while the team was here, was running down the side of the road. He gave us big hugs, and although we could only talk for a minute, it was such a nice surprise to see him again.
Our last stop for the day was at Ndola Central Hospital to check on Bridget. She is still having pain, but is feeling much better. Communication was difficult, as she only speaks Bemba, but one of the nurses translated for us. It was good to see Bridget smile as we were leaving.
One other update I failed to mention last week: baby Frederick was discharged from the malnutrition ward at Children's Hospital last week. His weight was up where it should be, and he went home with Mom. Another happy ending!

"Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might..." Ecclesiastes 9:10

Saturday, we finally took possession of the long awaited cement! It is more precious than gold! Monday was the last day there was any work at the project site due to the lack of cement. The septic was dug, waiting for cement. One last course of bricks was needed on the house before roofing could begin. Our dear friend, Mr. Sharma from Ndola Rotary, had arranged for a semi from Zimbabwe to pick up our packets of cement on Monday. On Monday there was no diesel for the truck to make the trip to Ndola. On Tuesday and Wednesday our paperwork mysteriously disappeared, but some of the staff at the cement company suggested an additional fee might help them relocate our order. Brown Banda, our contractor, was at Chilanga Cement daily, trying to get the process through. Finally our truck was in the queue (the very long line waiting) on Thursday. The next delay came from the government. Railroad trucks working for the government were given preferential treatment, and allowed to advance their position in the line. Our driver spent all night in line, and finally they began loading the truck late Friday. However, trucks cannot leave the yard after dark, so he spent one more night at the cement yard. We received the call early Saturday from Mr. Banda to meet at his yard to begin the long, hard process of transferring 300 bags of cement, each weighing 50kg (over 100 lbs) from the semi to our truck. Ron and five of the laborers from the George project site spent the next several hours unloading the semi, loading the OMNI truck, and then unloading the cement again. It was quite the sight to witness. Two trucks, side-by-side, and they dropped down one side of each truck. Two men climbed onto the semi load, and the rest onto the OMNI truck. The two heaved the heavy bags onto our truck, and the rest stacked them in neat rows, five across and two or three deep, until there were eighty bags on the truck. Then the long drive back to George, on the bumpy, crater filled roadyways, men standing in the back of the truck on top of the cement, and the truck feeling the weight of the load all the way. Once at George, our wood storage shed was opened, and they began the tedious task of unloading the bags and stacking them to the top of the shed. The strength of these men is incredible, young and old alike. Each one tackling a bag, some carrying on their shoulder, some against their chest, and some on top of their head. Our shed is inadequate for storing that much cement, so 160 bags were stored there, and the rest locked in a storage trailer at Mr. Banda's yard. But each and every bag had to be off loaded from the semi, loaded onto our truck, and then off loaded again. And the process will have to be repeated once the storage shed is empty, in about two weeks. I don't know when I ever saw a group of men work so hard, and without stopping. And they are always smiling. Happy to work hard, working with all their might. When asked, they attribute their strength to God, and eating lots of nshima! The men cooked nshima, rape, and kapenta for lunch. There was a pot of hot nshima, you just dip in with your fingers to get some and roll it into a little ball (with one hand), and then dip it into the greens. There was bread today, so the kapenta was scooped up in the bread to make a sandwich. Once again, the men gladly shared their meal with Ron. In fact, Godwin suggested Ron might want to eat more nshima to build up more strength! Every man washes thoroughly before their midday meal, washing not only their hands and arms, but their faces and the fronts of their trousers. For those of you who are wondering, no I did not eat the kapenta! Maybe one day I'll find the courage, but I doubt it!
Today we worshiped at The Anglican Cathedral of the Holy Nativity in town. When we drove in we were warmly greeted by the Very Rev. Sam Zulu. His vestments were not what we are used to in the United States. His appearance was striking, in bright green with a traditional African print. The service was a blend of what we're used to and what we were hoping to experience. The order of service was basically the same as our Lutheran church, but the delivery incoroporated the beautiful music of Zambia, the strong harmony of the congregation, portions of the service in Bemba, and a few spontaneous cries for joy. At the end of the service we were invited to the front, introduced by Rev. Zulu, and welcomed by the congregation in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit - which consisted of three distinct, loud claps from everyone. Today's message was about interdependence. God placed us all here to work together, sharing our gifts, helping one another, loving one another, and serving one another. We can do so much more if we work together than separately. He likened it to when you start a fire. You don't take just one piece of charcoal and expect that one piece to burn strong enough and long enough to heat your room, cook your meal, or keep the lions and hyenas away. You need many pieces of charcoal, burning strong and brightly together.

“The ways of right-living people glow with light; the longer they live, the brighter they shine…” Proverbs 4:18

Friedah's light shines brighter each and every day. I truly believe she is an angel on earth, sent by God to look after the Kasongo Community. Today we went to Kasongo to help Friedah with recasting Violet and Peter's club feet. But she wasn't there. So we called someone in the community, and very soon she came running down the dusty path. She said she was attending to a young woman who had given birth yesterday and was experiencing difficulty, and would we please come right away. As we drove down the bumpy path she explained that there had been twins, but one had died. They thought he died probably two weeks earlier, but had remained in the womb. The other baby boy had initially had difficulty nursing, but that seemed to be resolved today. The mother, Bridget, was having severe abdominal pain, bleeding and some other problems. And now we were at their home. We entered a tiny, dark space. Once our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we could see we were standing in a well-kept living area. There were bits of lace hanging from the stone walls, and a small rug in the doorway. There were a few plastic cups hanging near the window, and a somewhat battered chair in the corner. We were asked to pass through a sheet which covered the doorway to the bedroom. There was a small bucket of charcoal burning in the center of the small room, a few hooks with clothes on them, and a mattress on the floor with a young woman sitting on it, and an elderly woman cradling a tiny baby wrapped in shetanges and a crocheted blanket. Friedah introduced us to Bridget in Bemba, and we began the discussion of the situation and the need for her to see a doctor. Bridget refused transport to the hospital, just wanting us to give her medicine. We explained we are not doctors or nurses and we didn't have the medicine to give to her, and that she needed to be seen by a doctor. She refused. The more Friedah spoke, the more emphatically Bridget shook her head no. And so we had to leave, fearing the worst for Bridget. We told her we would be happy to transport her if she changed her mind. So, we had to leave her, and went back to cast Violet and Peter. The castings went well, and both children are now smiling when they see us. Peter even offered to share his lollipop with Ron! But, as usual, Violet appeared without her crutches, or the plastic leg braces Dr. Steve had fitted her with. So, Friedah announced that Violet would be spending days in her care, only returning home to her mother to sleep. This way, Friedah said she could better care for her and ensure she is wearing the braces and using the crutches. If you will recall, Friedah already cares for six orphaned children. Friedah's love, and her capacity to share it are endless. We talked a great deal about Bridget and her reluctance to seek medical care, and Friedah agreed to continue checking on her and talking with her. There were also several people in the village with severe wounds Friedah wanted to tend to, so we returned later in the afternoon with antibiotic ointment and other supplies after our other appointments. One of our meetings was with the Ndola Rotary, and there we spoke with Dr. Faschi, and explained the situation. He explained the proper procedure - take Bridget to the nearest government clinic and they would give a letter of referral to take her to Ndola Central Hospital because they would not have the facilities to help her. When we returned to Kasongo, Friedah was waiting for us. She said she had a serious talk with Bridget, but the deciding factor was Bridget's uncle. In Zambian culture, the uncle is in charge. Friedah spoke with the uncle, and he told Bridget she was going with us to see a doctor. We drove the aunt, Bridget and the new baby, and Friedah first to Twapia to the government clinic where they confirmed Bridget has a serious infection; and then to the hospital. This was when I had my best, most selfish moments of the day - when I was able to hold this beautiful one day old baby boy (not yet named). But the hospital is so different than anything I have ever seen. My heart ached, wishing there was somewhere else we could take them. The wheelchair Bridget was in didn't have footrests, it had a piece of rope tied across the bottom that she tried to balance her feet on, but they still scraped across the floor. We saw another wheechair fashioned from a white plastic stackable lawn chair. The hallways were dark and didn't look especially clean. But the nursing staff was very attentive, all appearing in bright white starched uniforms, and very professional. There was a sheet on the bed which didn't quite cover the whole bed. One of the nurses brought in a blanket for Bridget. The baby stays with mom since she is nursing. Bridget had carried in some torn shetanges to use as diapers for the baby. There is no food for patients at the hospital, and by now it was nearly 7pm. We found a kiosk open in front of the hospital, and bought some food, juice and water. We drove Friedah and the aunt back to Kasongo, and gave them kwacha to take public transportation to the hospital, and Friedah will call us. In fact, Friedah did call us. She borrowed someone's phone just to make sure we got home safely. This is how Friedah's light shines so brightly - she never stops caring for her neighbors and friends. There is never the slightest hesitation on her part. She never had a second thought about coming with Bridget - her only thought was to care for Bridget and her baby. And this is how God blessed our lives today.
Today was the last day of school at George for this term. Next term begins September 3rd, and Ms. Masumba said the children didn't want school to end. They are loving their new desks and chairs so much, they said they didn't want to miss a whole month!
Sorry there was not a blog entry for yesterday, but power was out here. We got home yesterday at 6pm, and the power was out at 6:15. The worst part is that when the power is out, there is no water either. So, no bath last night. Being clean is all relative - we brushed the dust off, and all was well! A good part of yesterday was spent driving to and from Garneton, emptying the container. Let's pack lighter weight boxes next time! We also had our first experience shopping in the local market, purchasing kapenta, beans and ground nuts to deliver to our precious little Annie today.
Signing off for now. It's after midnight, and our days begin early. Missing you all, but loving it here.

"Carry each other's burdens..." Galatians 6:2

Today we had a huge burden lifted, when Mr. Sharma of the Ndola Rotary donated a huge warehouse space for OMNI to use for storage! This was in answer to many, many prayers. The warehouse is on the other side of town, in the industrial area. We were able to remove everything which had filled the car port at Setanga Lodge. We backed the truck right into the warehouse (which is about 30x70), and as is customary in Zambia, several men working nearby came to help unload the truck. Many hands made the job of unloading and stacking so much easier. Even in loading the truck at Setanga, the guard, yard man, and two of the housekeepers helped. No one says a word, you just turn around to pick up another duffle, and there they are, carrying our boxes, bags and duffles. We are so grateful to all who eagerly come to our aid, without being asked. What a blessing they are. This is just one of the ways we witness Christ each and every day while we are here. Humble, strong, and compassionate people.
And we can't forget to mention that Ron's Optique is still operating! There were three satisfied customers today! While unloading the truck, one of our helpers, a dishevelled elderly man, whose shirt was torn away from the collar, noticed the eyeglasses, and asked if we might be able to help him see better. No sooner said, than done, and Ron had the eyeglass station operating in the doorway of the warehouse.
As we were driving down the bumpy, crater filled roadway we passed a group collecting water from a pump. One of the ladies asked if we could give them a lift. Soon there was about a dozen or more young and old women, and children in the back of the truck, heaving their heavy pails and buckets of water over the side rail. As the truck took off, bumping all the way, there was much laughter from the back as they were so excited to have a ride. The drive to the main road was quite some distance, and then we drove them into their compound a short distance to their doorstep. Lots of smiles (from them and us), and many thanks. The young girls couldn't wait to tell their waiting girlfriends, and there was lots of giggling. Ron helped one of the women take the water filled container from the truck, and nearly dropped it, it was so heavy. We can't imagine the daily trips they must make just to get water. As we drove away, lots of waves and smiles as always, but it really touched our hearts when an elderly man clapped his hands, bowed and thanked us for bringing the women back in the truck. We didn't realize the value of this truck when it was purchased.
Once we had the warehouse space, our original plan was to drive to the container in Garneton and bring a load back. But, as you well know, nothing progresses as planned here. We stopped for fuel, and there was none - anywhere! We would drive past the stations slowly, and they would motion us on. So, we didn't have enough fuel for a round trip, and we really didn't want to sleep in the container tonight, so we took the full load from Setanga instead. Debbie has been most gracious to allow us this convenience, and we were happy to free-up her space again. When we returned to Setanga, there was actually a car in the car port!
Today was my first day driving the Land Cruiser, solo. Help!!! Or maybe the other drivers are crying help when they see me. I'm not ashamed to say, it is a challenge to drive on the opposite side of the road, in a vehicle larger than I'm used to, and on narrow roads with people walking and riding bicycles on both sides of the road who apparently don't know they should run like the wind when they see me coming! I have a greater appreciation (and admiration) for Ron driving the stick shift truck.
Thanks for all your prayers, and comments on the blog site - keep them coming!