“I will bring you home again from distant lands” Jeremiah 30:10

It seems our final challenge for this trip was the most difficult, as it resulted in us leaving Zambia early. Late in the day of September 23rd Ron began seeing flashes of light and floaters from his left eye. This was followed by a flurry of emails and phone calls with Karen, and the following day we made the trip to Lusaka in search of an eye doctor. The concern was a retina detachment, tear or hole, which could result in blindness in that eye. I had sent out an email, which was passed on and on until I think half of the United States was praying for Ron. We knew he was safe in God’s care, and joined in the prayer marathon as we made the five hour drive to the capital city. We repeatedly phoned the U.S. Embassy before and during our drive, hoping they could advise us and provide a referral for a competent eye doctor. Each phone call resulted in the same message: “The number you are calling is not in service.” Click. And it’s not like phoning in the United States – we couldn’t just dial information or the operator. So, we just kept driving to Lusaka and praying.

The drive to Lusaka is a straight shot. There is only one road. It’s a two lane paved road busy with trucks. Broken down vehicles litter the sides of the road, as well as vendors selling everything from bamboo mats and gourds to chickens and rats (in case you’re looking for a quick meal). Our intent was to drive straight to the Embassy once we reached Lusaka, but this was no easy feat. We had a map, but all the streets are not on the map, and most streets do not have signs with the street name. We finally found the U.S. Embassy – a complex of buildings surrounded by fences and gates and security guards. There was no sign in front of the Embassy, only a small bronze plaque bearing our nation’s symbol of freedom – the bald eagle. No parking there either. We were directed down the road a piece where we navigated through too much traffic on too tiny of streets with unmarked turning lanes and over humps and bumps into a rocky lot filled with cars. We walked down the street and when we did reach the entrance for the Embassy we passed through two security checks where they retained our passports, phones, and my oh so dangerous dental floss. We were directed to the consular’s office where we spoke to a nice American man through a glass partition. He informed us that there are no competent eye doctors and that the U.S. Government would send them back to the U.S. if it were anyone at the consular’s office. He further conferred with the Embassy nurse and the final conclusion was that the U.S. Embassy advised us to return to the United States as soon as possible. And he did apologize that they had just changed their phone number. Keeping true to Zambian tradition we were once again reminded that nothing is easy here. Since we had made the trip to Lusaka, the Embassy did give us a referral for a good medical facility where we could obtain reliable medical advice. But of course, it was too late to see anyone today.

Next day the doctor in charge examined Ron and concurred that we must return to the United States as soon as we could to see an eye doctor. He said Ron’s symptoms were indicative of a retinal tear or detachment which left untreated would result in total loss of vision in that eye. Ron tried everything to get the doctor to say it would be ok for us to stay till the end of October – how about the middle of October – maybe even the first week of October. But he just kept shaking his head “no.” He said “You may be hopping mad when you go home if you find out it’s not a retina detachment and you left, but please don’t take that risk. If it were me, I would leave immediately.” Then he called in the eye doctor they have on staff. I’m not sure why, because he confided to us that she was not competent, merely the best they could find. He said we couldn’t trust her diagnosis as she has declared patients to have no problem when they actually did have a torn retina and even a detached retina. His only reassuring remark was that she wouldn’t hurt Ron. We knew it was hopeless when she examined Ron’s eyes and in her thick Russian accent tried to insist that Ron’s contact lens was a surgical implant and the instruments she used looked older than me. I guess that’s why the doctor called her in – to convince Ron he really must return to the U.S.

And so with heavy hearts and through another seemingly endless series of complicated inquiries and driving all over Lusaka we were finally able to reschedule our return flight for the 28th of September. Devastating. Truly devastating. But there was no choice. And we couldn’t imagine any other reason that would cause us to leave early. We know with the same certainty that God sent us to Zambia; He also brought us back to the U.S. While it most assuredly is not our desire, and we may never know why God brought us back, we do know that it is all according to His will and purpose, and we are so very grateful for His healing powers. Since we have been home there have been several appointments and there are more coming, but so far no serious problem has been discovered. There is no tear, hole or detachment of the retina. It is truly answered prayer and we praise God! Thank you all for the many, many prayers. The prayers and faith you have shared with us are a beautiful witness to God’s love and healing power. There has been a significant change in Ron’s vision in the last few days. We are hoping this can be attributed to the eye drops the doctor in Zambia gave him and praying that the condition will reverse or at least not worsen. His next appointment is tomorrow. I am sorry for the delay in posting this blog, it’s just been so hectic leaving Zambia so abruptly and since returning to the U.S.

We had so many more stories we wanted to share with you. Like how four men, Ron, Steven, Godwin and Frank erected the steel storage building in only eighteen days without any heavy machinery. Their tools were strong arms and backs, determination that never stopped and a great deal of ingenuity.

We wanted to tell you about Violet and Peter, the two children from Kasongo who underwent the serial castings for club feet last year, and this year OMNI facilitated corrective surgery for their feet. I wanted to tell you that when Peter’s cast was removed following his surgery it revealed a foot aligned just like the other. And for the first time we saw Peter’s usual serious expression melt away into a huge smile complete with laughter and excitement. No longer do we see a grandmother carrying a child on her back or a child struggling to walk with a cane – we are now greeted by a little boy walking freely or even running to greet us. Violet too now has one straight foot and will return for surgery on the other foot in December. We look forward to seeing a huge smile on her face, and those beautiful brown eyes laughing as she runs to greet us next year.

We wanted to tell you about Melvin – one of the brightest students at the OMNI School who suffered polio as an infant which left one leg crippled and lame. Shortly after our departure Melvin underwent successful surgery to free the tendon at the back of his ankle
and he will soon be fitted with a shoe and a brace which will enable him to walk without the aid of the forearm crutches which he has been using. Melvin loves soccer and we hope to see him as goalie in the first soccer game we see the children playing next year.

I wanted to tell you about the funeral of Steven’s father. Steven is one of the men from George who worked with Ron every day. I wanted to tell you about the compassion and mentoring and the love of Christ that Ron shared with this man as he turned to alcohol as he faced the devastating loss of his father – and how Ron ministered to him and encouraged him to turn to God for comfort instead. And at the funeral, how one of the grandsons broke down completely and Ron reached out to him with the love of Christ, holding his trembling shoulders in a strong embrace, and how Ron removed the cross he was wearing and gently placed it around this young man’s neck, and tenderly reminded him wherein our eternal hope and salvation lies.

It has been very difficult leaving so suddenly and leaving so many things undone. But we are holding tight to each other and the love of God. “Hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts.” Romans 5:5 And we are finding some comfort in the words from the Prayer of Archbishop Romero: “We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us... We plant the seeds that one day will grow…We lay foundations that will need further development…We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something…It may be incomplete but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.”

We will miss so much in the coming months that we are gone from Zambia. Mostly we will miss the children. There are so many things that are so far beyond words, and the children are at the top of that list. Wonderful, special, beautiful children who have stolen our hearts so very completely. They are with us wherever we go. One of our last days there was the most special – just a wonderful unexpected gift from God. When we open the house for school each morning there are usually a few children waiting outside to come in for school. This morning when we opened the door there were dozens of children gathered on the front verandah. As each child entered they shook our hands, curtseyed, bowed, some shared huge smiles and others shy smiles – they hugged us and wrapped their arms around us and we never felt more loved or wanted. Three of the younger girls attached themselves to me for a long while – holding onto my hands and around my waist, walking where I walked, giggling that sweet little girl giggle the whole while. There is nothing quite like the love of a child. A blessing from God we will never forget. And then Rachael found me outside later in the day. She ran up to me, wrapped her tiny arms around my waist, and said some of the sweetest words I have ever heard “Mary Sue, I love you!” “I love you too Rachael.” We’ll miss you.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Psalm 23:4

Tuesday 16 September 2008

Today began like so many others. The children gathered here in our yard by a quarter to seven, filling pails and buckets of water to tend their garden. John, the head boy organized some of the other children for sweeping and making sure the classrooms were in order. Our usual morning of smiling children, happily greeting us. Yvonne had come with a small handful of white sugar as a treat, and Chikomba had two small “sweets” (hard candy). Ron brought out brown sugar which the girls were not familiar with, but eager to try – more laughter. Ron met with the workers at the cafeteria building, continuing installing window sills, patching wall cracks and painting and fitting doors. As they worked they could hear the sounds of music, peaceful drums playing in the village. I was off to pick up Foster and then we headed to town, me driving the car and Foster the truck to renew vehicle fitness registrations. As we were driving in town, little could we know what tragedy had struck at George.

It was half past noon, as I was driving back to George when I received a call from Ron. Four men had come to the site asking for help and looking for Godwin, the Chairman of George. Godwin had borrowed a bicycle and gone to Twapia to buy relish (kapenta, the tiny fish eaten with nshima). The men told Ron that a man at George had hung himself this morning. They had phoned the police around noon, but they had not come yet. They asked Ron to please phone the police again and help find Godwin. It was soon discovered the police had not come yet because there was no transport for them. The men were understandably upset and anxious, as their friend must remain in the state he was found until the police arrive. Ron phoned me and asked me to look for the Chairman at Twapia and stop at the police station. I phoned Foster who was about ten minutes behind me, and he was able to phone Godwin and I met him at the entrance to Twapia. We drove to the Buyantashi Police Station, a satellite station located at the front of Twapia which serves the George Compound. The Chairman, who is similar to a mayor status, had quickly gathered information and filed the official report. The officer made careful notes as Godwin provided what information he had. The deceased, Dan Lungu, age 29, had returned home to George just three days earlier, having spent some time in prison. His wife had gone out early this morning, which is the usual time to do errands and any shopping, before the heat of the day. When she returned home she found her husband had hung himself using a mosquito net inside their home. They have not lived at George for very long. That was all the report said.

Once the report was filed, we were referred to the main police station at Twapia. The officer in charge, Mrs. Chijobeka Luwi, called two detectives to accompany her to George. And so I drove Mrs. Luwi, Godwin, and two officers, one holding an AK47 gun across his lap, back to George. When I asked about the gun, Detective Henry told me they must always go into the bush armed – just as a precaution – for their safety and ours. They never know what an investigation might reveal or what responses may be invoked. We stopped briefly at the OMNI site for Ron and Foster to follow us in the truck. That was the first it struck me just what all this trip would entail, and my head started spinning a little. We drove far back into George, twisting and turning down dirt paths until we saw a large crowd gathered outside a small dwelling.

The two detectives donned surgical gloves and entered the home with the officer in charge. Foster and Ron followed them. I remained outside. The size of the crowd increased once we arrived, but most stood far back, forming a large horseshoe which surrounded the front of the house. Just next to the doorway sat a small child, a little girl about three years old, just sitting and staring without looking at anything, dirt stained tear tracks running down her cheeks. Next to her was a woman, early twenties, holding a baby of about nine months in her lap. She was wailing, crying out to God, rocking back and forth in aguish. It was heart wrenching – heart breaking, a young woman widowed much too soon, left with two young children. Just then, they called for me inside the house. I wish I had not heard. My eyes slowly focused, adjusting to the darkness inside. There was only a small hole near the roof which allowed just a bit of light to filter in. It was as though time stood still for just a moment, as I slowly began to comprehend what I was seeing. What my eyes saw, pierced my heart. It was overwhelming - the tragedy, the hurt, the deep sorrow – and my heart just felt so very, very heavy, and tears surfaced immediately. I can’t imagine how this young woman who loved this man must have felt when she walked into that tiny dark room to find her husband and wonder at the torture he must have known to take his own life. All I could do was pray – pray for comfort and peace and healing for this family, pray that God will answer swiftly as this young mother and children call out to Him, and cry out for help.

The police detectives made an investigation at the home, then removed the body of Dan. The poor, tortured body of a young man who knew despair that no other here can imagine. They placed the body in the back of the truck, his wife brought a blanket from inside the house to cover him, and Ron drove the truck with Godwin and Detective Henry along with some friends and family to the morgue at Ndola Central Hospital. I sat in the back of the car next to Dan’s widow and infant, as Foster drove us with the other officers back to the Twapia Police Station. We left them all there to fill out more reports. When Ron returned to the station with the other officer, he picked up Mrs. Lungu and baby and returned to their home. He made a brief stop here at the OMNI house to retrieve a blanket. You see, she had used their only blanket to cover the broken body of her husband.

The village is in shock, as this is the first suicide anyone can remember ever happening at George. You can’t come to Africa and not be changed… forevermore. We are just praying intently for this family, for comfort and healing and strength and an abundance of God’s grace, love and mercy. That this family can lean into the strong arms of our Savior and feel His warm embrace, and know that He is with them always. No one here seems to know why this young man, with a young family, decided to take his life. Tonight, along with all of George Compound, we seek God and cry out to all of heaven and pray that God will heal these broken hearts, and protect and provide for this family.

“you will make me full of joy in your presence...” Psalm 16:11

Today was the first day of school for the last term this year. Opening was delayed one week due to the funeral of Zambia’s President. Today meant a lot of things here at the George OMNI School. It meant all the children would gather together again for the first time in over a month. It meant there would be a lot of chatter and some rowdy behavior as energy levels increase with the number of children present. It meant a good, hot, nutritious meal for all our students. And once again, it meant cleaning, as all the desks and chairs were wiped down and floors swept. There were huge smiles of gratitude from the teachers when they entered their office to find the shelving unit Ron had installed during the break. They quickly recruited some of the older boys and reorganized books and supplies, and swept it all clean. A nice way to begin the new term – clean and organized.

Today also meant one other thing. Something the children have been looking forward to for a very long time. Today meant new shoes for all the children. It was last January that First Lutheran Church in Strongsville, Ohio sponsored a U2Charist celebration where they collected shoes for our children. First Lutheran shipped thirty-one boxes filled with shoes to Zambia. Most of the boxes arrived in late February, but were held hostage by customs. The customs fee was outrageous, and more than the value of the shoes. After a lot of work by Foster and a customs agent, and then Ron and I arguing with the Post Office who then wanted more than the customs fee for storing them since February, the shoes were finally released last month. I wish that every person who attended that celebration and prayed for these children and donated a pair of shoes could have been here to share in the joy of this day. We placed a free-standing shelving unit, with three shelves on the front verandah. Each shelf contained three rows of shoes, all arranged according to size. As the children gathered for school, their excitement increased as they saw the shoes that awaited them. What they didn’t realize at first was that there were three times as many shoes which remained inside, just waiting to restock those shelves.

It was an easy task for the teachers to gather the children at the front of the house to receive this wonderful gift. They formed lines according to grade. And this time, the line of order was reversed, and it was oldest first! It seems that the older children usually are the last ones, and if sometimes the supply runs low on whatever is being handed out, they are the ones expected to be understanding. But today, there are plenty of large sizes – plenty of shoes for the older children. It is customary for the schools in Zambia to have a child named “head boy”. He is one of the older children, and he assumes responsibility when the teacher is not present. He takes charge of the activities outside when the children gather, making sure there is no fighting. He helps organize the lines the children form. He helps during lunch time, making sure all the children receive their food and milk and that they are behaving as they wait for the prayer before meals. And he is the first child to enter the school each day, and begin sweeping and readying the classrooms. So, we decided to honor our head boy, John Mwamba, in a special way, and allow him to be the first to choose a pair of shoes. In fact, we had already chosen a special pair of shoes for John. Someone had donated a pair of good-looking, sturdy, high top, red Nike shoes that just seemed to call out John’s name. Teddy, one of our teachers, explained to John that if those shoes fit, and he liked them, they were his, but he was free to choose any pair he wished to have. John gave a quick glance to the rows of shoes on the shelves, but put the red Nike’s on, smiled, shook my hand, and with a very sincere ‘thank you' joined the others in line, as they cheered for their head boy and his new shoes.

Then the parade was on. Teachers called three children forward at a time. In this continuous stream some came forward wearing worn out flip-flops, some wore shoes with toes poking through holes in the end, or tied together with a piece of string. But for most, there were no shoes to remove before trying on a pair. We allowed the children the pleasure of picking and choosing which shoes they would like to try, and Ron and I and the teachers would try to make sure they were a good fit – not just good-looking! The smaller children would climb onto a chair to survey the shoes on the higher shelves, making sure to choose just the right shoes. Their patience as they waited in line was amazing. There were necks craning to see who got what pair, ooh and aahs as we would bring out more shoes to refill the shelves, and proud smiles as each child stepped off the verandah wearing a new pair of shoes. It didn’t matter one bit that the temperature had soared to over 105 degrees before 9am. The children were so happy to have shoes, and I think it was doubly exciting that they were allowed to choose for themselves. Their joy was contagious – highly contagious – and continued to overflow as each child stepped up onto the verandah and approached what seemed like an endless supply of shoes. Many of the children couldn’t contain their joy, and danced their way off the verandah and back into line! What a blessing! We heard so many thank you’s, received so many polite curtseys and bows, and saw so many huge smiles. Many stopped to ask for a photo with their new shoes. And yes, as always, the children were singing as they waited in line for their turn. They were singing the song they wrote about OMNI – the song that says love isn’t love unless you give it away. While they were singing it as their thank you to you, it was also the children giving their love away – and back to you. Thank you for sharing your love. Thank you for this wonderful gift to these children. Thank you for sowing the seeds of gladness. Thank you for allowing us the privilege of sharing in this blessing! I can’t help but think of Psalm 19, although it may be referring to the ordinances of the Lord, the words keep echoing in my mind – “They are more precious than gold…they are sweeter than honey…”

“..and He healed those who needed healing.” Luke 9:11

Saturday 6 September 2008

Late last evening my phone started beeping – a text message from Godfridah, one of our school teachers. It said that one of our students, Piet, had been stoned and taken to the hospital earlier with a head injury, possibly admitted. Godfridah lives nearby Piet’s family and has always looked out for the three boys there. Piet, Tammy and Gift live with their widowed mother, and were three of the boys who we originally came to know at Agape Children’s Village in the deep bush of Mpongwe. OMNI helped support Agape, and eventually came to learn of abuse which was occurring there. During OMNI’s visit in 2006, Rick Jaster spent many heart-wrenching hours working to free the children from that abusive situation. Now, we can happily report that these three boys have been reunited with their mother and now live at nearby Twapia. Gift, the oldest of the boys attends an upper grade at Twapia School, while Piet and Tammy (pronounced Tommy) attend OMNI’s school here at George. I must admit I have a special affinity for these children. I believe everyone who traveled as part of the OMNI team to Agape would say the same. But, the Agape connection is just one reason I feel a special connection to these children. It also means I have known them since I’ve been coming to Zambia, and I’ve known them to be loving and kind children full of laughter and songs. This year I have formed a special attachment to Piet. While Ron and I are living here at the project site, in one room of the house that is used for the school, Piet has taken me under his wing. I can be outside or inside, surrounded by children. Children who desperately want to communicate with me and me with them. While we can always understand a smile or a thumbs-up from one another, language is a difficulty. Most of the children only speak Bemba, with maybe just a few words of English. And me, I barely know a few words of Bemba. The children will be talking away to me in earnest, speaking the only language they know, and Piet will quietly come next to me, and interpret. It was such a wonderful surprise the first time it happened. One of the other boys was telling me a vibrant and exciting story with much animation – all in Bemba. When I told him I was sorry I couldn’t understand, Piet, retold the tale of how James Phiri helped to kill the snake that day – all in English. And then translated my Aaahhhs and Ooohhhs and Yuks and cheers for his bravery into Bemba. Piet, wise beyond his years at age 10, stepped in to bridge a gap. Ever since, Piet has been my interpreter. What a difference he has made. And poor Piet, he even tries to teach me some Bemba!
But, I’m afraid I’m not a very good student.

This morning when I called Godfridah she confirmed that Piet had been admitted to Arthur Davison Children’s Hospital, but she didn’t know any more. She said she would make sure that Gift and Tammy were fed and cared for in their mother’s absence. So, Foster and I were off to the hospital to find Piet and his mother. The differences between the hospitals here and in the U.S. are striking, if not shocking at first. From the outside you see a structure probably from the 1950’ or 1960’s with large windows streaked with paint and the eternal dust of Zambia. Upon entering we always climb several flights of stairs, the edges of the stone steps worn away from too many years of too many footsteps. As we climb we pass several wards, some bearing the sign “high cost” for those who can afford to pay, the remaining wards named after Zambian Rivers, which is for the majority of the children. After several inquiries we discovered that Piet was in the Kafue Ward in a tiny little quarter which contained four small beds and four chairs. The chairs are for the mothers or whatever family member comes with the child to care for them. They were lucky. As we searched the ward for Piet, we stepped around the mattresses which lined the halls on either side. There were no sheets or covering on any of those mattresses, yet each was bed to a child and whoever had come to care for them. As Foster made inquiries about Piet’s whereabouts I watched as a doctor and a nurse, both in starch white uniforms attended to the children in the hall. The doctor would crouch next to each mattress and gently and tenderly care to each child, talking with the adult at each child’s side for as long as needed. And this is when the tears could easily flow. As you watch parents bringing what little they have – be it food, blankets, and clothes – feeding and caring for their children. As you watch educated, dedicated, caring physicians and nurses treating children in difficult circumstances, to the best of their ability, using the limited resources available. This is just one more effect of the extreme poverty prevalent here in Zambia. It is heart-breaking to witness, and at the same time heart-warming.

After some time Foster discovered that Piet had gone for x-rays. So, down three flights of stairs, through a dimly lit hallway, and we found Piet and his mother, Florence, just leaving the x-ray room. She was carrying the x-rays, and they walked up the three flights with us back to Piet’s bed. There was no wheelchair, no orderly or nurse, just a mother walking with her son. Florence said that Piet had been at a stream washing some clothes, and a boy told him he was dirtying the water and threw a large stone at him. Piet told her the boy didn’t intend to hit him, that he was only playing. I don’t know. Life in the villages can be very rough and tough. The stone struck Piet in the back of the head, leaving a large gash and a fracture. Half of his head had been shaved and there was a large, bulky bandage covering the wound. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the doctor to return, read the x-ray, and make his recommendations. All indications were that Piet would be coming home soon. He had experienced some dizziness, but was feeling much better today. What I could see was a little boy, from a traditional village, scared at the prospect of being in the hospital. Poor Piet – he didn’t speak a word, eyes wide with fear. We looked at his x-rays and he did manage to laugh a little at seeing what his head looks like from the inside-out! We left Florence a bit of money so she could pay for the x-rays and any medication that might be necessary, and also to buy food for the two of them while there. She knows she can call, and we’ll be there if Piet needs us. She also knows we will all be praying for him. The photo is from the July 11th, when the gift of bread was distributed to the school children. That boy with the sweet smile on his face and the bread in his hand is Piet.

“Uphold the rights of the oppressed…” Psalm 82:3

Monday 1 September 2008

This past week has without a doubt been the most difficult we have faced since arriving in Zambia this year. Our emotions have been at the breaking point, as we are consumed with grief at the loss of Ron’s sister, Jan, coupled with the continuing worry as we search for a solution to the quickly deteriorating situation of baby Peter and his sister Gift.

When we returned to the hospital as scheduled with Peter and his mother, Sharon, to receive the HIV medication for the two of them we became very aware of the seriousness of the situation. After hours and hours of waiting as Sharon was shifted from room to room and department to department, Foster and I were finally called in to speak with the counselor and nurse in charge. They informed us that they could not give Peter’s mother his medication. They said she is just not responsible. They did not believe she would administer the medication properly and even had serious doubts that Peter would be fed regularly. What we have discovered is that Sharon and Reagan, Peter’s parents, are both alcoholics. In fact the day we took Sharon and Peter to receive their medication she had been drinking already, before 9am. There was nothing we could do at that point, so we took Sharon and Peter home. Reagan was there, and we explained the situation to him. In conversation with him we also discovered that he had indeed been aware of his HIV status long before we transported them to the testing facility. Denial is not uncommon here. There is a huge stigma associated with HIV/Aids, especially in the villages. The common belief in the traditional communities is also that if you begin the treatment, that is what kills you. As we remained at the home talking with them, other family members came to the home – Sharon’s small mother (her mother’s younger sister) and her grandmother – and it became quite evident that there was no one there who was capable of caring for Peter and Gift.

Foster and I discussed the situation at great length, and went to an attorney in town to discuss available options. Our next stop was the Ndola District Social Welfare Office, where we were informed that Baluba falls under the authority of the Luanshya District. Before heading to Luanshya we stopped at the Provincial Juvenile Welfare Office here in Ndola to discuss Peter and Gift with them. The officer in charge there said she would contact the Luanshya District office and they would contact us. Arrangements were eventually made for the Luanshya District officer to make a home visit. I don’t know that I can really explain all of this – it sounds fairly straight forward – but it was anything but. Here in Zamia, you don’t just make a call, and then see things happen. You drive to each and every office, seek out the proper person, and many times wait hours or make return trips in following days in order to find that person and speak to them. One further complication in business dealings here is that lunch is strictly observed between the hours of 12:30pm to 2pm. During that time you will find virtually no one in any office, and even most businesses are closed. So, this process of making arrangements with the Luanshya Social Welfare Office literally took days. Torturous days of seeking people who could help Peter and Gift. All the while we are praying, and wondering if the children are safe, are they being fed and cared for, and knowing it was one more day that Peter was without his medication. While every office understood the urgency of the situation and did their best to expedite the process, it still took so very long. The other hindrance is transportation. If you want someone to go somewhere you have to provide the necessary transportation. There are not government vehicles available for the social welfare officers, and personal vehicles for the workers are few and far between. And, we couldn’t just give the Luanshya officer, Mrs. Mwalo, and address of a home to go to either. Baluba is a traditional, village community with haphazard placement of homes, no streets, only the tiny uneven dirt paths, and certainly no addresses.

But finally, we met Mrs. Mwalo in Luanshya. She is a woman of about 30 years I would imagine, strong, straight forward, compassionate, and I would say wise beyond her years. She is passionate about her job and the children of Zambia. She was a breath of fresh air. As we drove to Baluba we gave her all the details we knew. When we arrived she explained who she was and the purpose of her visit. She took down the family history, names, dates, and relationships. We also discovered that they were not living in the home, but only renting a tiny room attached to the home. The room is about five feet by eight feet with no windows, and only a chitenge covering the door. As we peered inside the only things there were a large blanket we had given them which was being used by the entire family to sleep on, the small blankets we had given Gift and Peter, and there was a small pile of clothes in the corner. That was all. There was nothing else. Mrs. Mwalo talked to them about their health issues, their income, and their addiction to alcohol, and on and on. She asked tough questions, like “It’s lunch time, why aren’t you preparing food for your children? Why don’t you have a small garden so they can at least have something to eat? Where is the food that was given to you for Peter? Why do you worry more about where your next drink is coming from than the well-being of your children? Why aren’t your children bathed?” She was thorough and she was firm, but she was also kind and compassionate. She also talked to Gift and a few of the neighbors. She discussed different options but in the end said the children would just have to be removed. Before we left, Sharon and Reagan agreed that Peter and Gift would go to a new home where they could be properly cared for. Mrs. Mwalo said that Sharon is very clever and it is her opinion that she only uses the children to get food and money. And so we would all search for a safe haven for the children, and then return. In the meantime, there was not one bite of food at the house. We went to the street market and bought mealie meal (for the staple food, nshima), oil, sugar, salt, and the vegetables commonly used to make the relish which accompanies the nshima – rape, tomatoes, onions, and a special treat of tiny eggplants. We returned with the food, and Mrs. Mwalo also handed an orange to baby Peter. I’m sure they feasted that night, and we all said a prayer that they wouldn’t sell the remaining food to buy beer.

Our mission was clear. Mrs. Mwalo would type her report and file the official findings. Foster and I would immediately begin to search for homes for Peter and Gift. Our first stop was a home we know here in Ndola that keeps HIV+ children. It is Buseko Home – which means joy. We had in fact recently visited there and knew the children were happy and well-cared for. However, the director informed us they were not able to accept any new children at this time. She suggested that we go to St. Anthony’s Home for Children in Masala, which is near the large traditional market where we purchase the food for the school. It is supported by the Catholic Church and Dominican Sisters and is a beautiful place. We immediately had a good feeling when we got out of the car – dozens of children came running, smiling and happy, holding out little hands to greet us, and some with arms outstretched wanting to be picked up and held. And so I picked up one little girl as another held my hand, pulling me to meet the adults, the mothers of the homes, and actually placing my hand in theirs, making sure there was a proper greeting. After a few minutes of reveling in that unexpected joy, we talked to the assistant director, Gertrude.

The director, Maureen was in Ndola. We phoned her, returned to Ndola to pick her up, and discussed the situation on the way back to Masala. She said in fact they would be happy to take both children and care for them. When we returned to the home, we knew we had found a place where the children would most definitely be loved. When we pulled up into the yard, and the children saw Maureen, they mobbed her until she could barely exit the car. They were holding onto her, hugging her legs, chattering and cheering for her return. That’s love. She gave us a tour of several of the houses, citing names and histories of all the children we met. She told us that there have been eight children who entered the home HIV+ who have now tested negative. She said they have been told that before a child is eighteen months it has its mother’s antibodies, but then can develop their own healthy antibodies with proper care and medications. But, as Maureen said “It is just a miracle from God.”

Mrs. Mwalo was familiar with St. Anthony’s and in favor of taking Peter and Gift there. She quickly made her report and we picked her up the following day and returned to Baluba to take Peter and Gift to their new home. The first person we saw was Gift. Poor little Gift - four years old and dressing herself - dress on backwards, buttoned wrong, and pants dragging the ground. Then we saw Peter sitting on the ground. Both children dirty and wearing the same dirty clothes as the day before. And then came Sharon. She refused to let the children leave. Reagan tried to talk to her, even attempted to pry Peter away from her. Mrs. Mwalo talked to her – argued with her. The neighbors gathered around and were yelling at Sharon to just give her children a chance to live and be cared for. But it all fell on deaf ears. We had no choice but to leave without the children. I think we were all crying as we entered the car, and watched as innocent Gift stood there waving good-bye. It was horrible. I think it was the hardest thing I have ever done, to leave those two children there. I wanted to just grab Peter and Gift and run. As we drove back to Luanshya we discussed what the law could do to protect these children. Mrs. Mwalo has never had a parent refuse to give their child a better life, and said she would have to do some research.

Foster and I returned to the Provincial Juvenile Welfare Office in Ndola and they made plans to return with Mrs. Mwalo and the police to forcibly remove Peter and Gift from the home. I dread that trip to Baluba and the ensuing encounter. But, we never know what each day will bring. That was Friday, and Saturday afternoon our guard came to find me at the house. He said there was a man with a child here to see me. But we never know what each day will bring. This afternoon, our guard came to find me and said there was a man with a child at the gate to see me. As I started walking down the path, Reagan, Peter’s father started walking toward me. I could see Sharon crouching near the guard house with Peter wrapped in a chitenge on her back. I immediately said a prayer of thanksgiving. We have been praying mightily that Sharon’s eyes and heart would be opened. Reagan speaks English quite well, and told me that he had just been talking and talking to his wife and now she agrees the children must go where they can be cared for properly. He said he told her to think of what will happen to the children after they are gone. He said “Me, I was even crying.” He said you’ve seen where we live, you know we have nothing and we cannot care for the children – God bless you for loving our children and wanting to help them.

When I approached Sharon, she greeted me and then immediately handed Peter to me – a sign of her willingness to release him. They wanted to see St. Anthony’s Children’s Home, so Ron and I drove them to Masala. The director was not there, but I explained to Gertrude that these were the parents and the infant Foster and I had talked to them about earlier in the week. Sharon passed Peter to me through the car window and remained inside the vehicle. I asked Reagan if Sharon wouldn’t like to come inside and see where her son would be living, but Ron said he would go to the car for her. I don’t know what he said or did, since Sharon doesn’t understand English, but he came back inside with her. Reagan was telling Peter to greet his new friends, and Peter was holding out his little hand to the other children. It was plain to see how pleased Reagan was – he saw happy children, laughing and playing. He remarked how clean and orderly the homes were, and how clean and well dressed and healthy looking all the children were. Even Sharon seemed to mellow as she spoke with the house mothers, explaining about Peter’s TB medication which she had brought along. Gertrude also explained that they were free to come and visit the children here, contact would not be severed. The house mother took Peter from me and whisked him away for a bath, complete with clean clothes and a diaper. As we drove back to Baluba we talked with Reagan trying to make sure they were sure – that Peter and Gift would be ready to go to this lovely new home on Monday morning. We felt they must be sincere since they had found a way to come here to our site at George all the way from Baluba – which is a very long distance. We spent the remainder of the weekend praying. Praying for a smooth transition on Monday. Praying that Sharon and Reagan are sincere. Praying that Sharon and Reagan’s hearts remain as they were this day – full of unselfish love for their children. Praying that Sharon and Reagan find peace and favor with the Lord. Praying for a happy new life for these two precious children.

And then came Monday, today. Foster came in from his home in Kitwe on the bus, and I met him at the turn off to Luanshya. He was ringing Mrs. Mwalo, but there was no answer. We drove to the office and she was not there. Fortunately we knew her home, and found her there and explained what had happened Saturday. She was relieved to not have to involve the police. It just makes it that much more difficult for everyone, especially the children. We drove to her office and she collected her papers and we were off to Baluba once more. When we arrived our anxieties quickly left as Sharon, Reagan, Gift and Peter all piled in to the car without incident. There was paperwork to be completed once we arrived at St. Anthony’s and so I picked up Gift and walked around with her, while one of the house mother’s again scooped Peter up in her arms and bathed and dressed him in clean clothes. I returned to find a shouting match occurring between Sharon and everyone else in the room. Sharon had changed her mind about leaving Gift. Mrs. Mwalo told her the choice was not hers any longer, that the law had made the decision. I quickly passed Gift to one of the mothers as the arguing continued. I followed a few minutes later and found Gift also being bathed and hair washed. Sharon was now sitting outside the house and Foster told me to get in the car. We were going for the police because Sharon refused to leave without Gift. We found a police station at Masala and were returning with one of the biggest, burliest looking police officers I have ever seen, when we spotted Sharon walking through the market. The officer jumped out of the car and escorted Sharon to the police station where she received a proper lecture from the officer in charge. As we drove back to Baluba, all you could hear was Sharon yelling. I asked Foster to translate a little please. He said she was saying that her husband doesn’t provide for her – she doesn’t have any nice clothes or shoes or a nice home or money for anything. I asked if she had said anything about the children. Mrs. Mwalo said she had not mentioned them once. She said she was only complaining about her own needs and wanting money. Mrs. Mwalo gave her a little bit of money from her own pocket – she said just for the sake of peace – and Sharon immediately quieted down and never said another word. When we finally dropped them at their home, I gave Reagan a Bible, and asked him to please read it and read it to Sharon. He thanked me and said he would. And Sharon also thanked me. I’ll never understand all that has transpired here. The only thing I can know for sure is that it is all according to God’s will.

Now, we continue in prayer for Sharon and Reagan and Gift and Peter. We are praying that Sharon and Reagan come to know the Lord in what time they have left, and that they seek counseling and treatment for their disease. I left Peter sitting in a bed playing with a toy – something I’m sure he has never done before, and Gift was in a tub full of water, hair soaped and eyes wide with wonder. I know that right now, they are being loved as they have never been loved before. We will return to visit, many times before leaving for the U.S. Maureen made a point to let us know “You are always most welcome here, anytime.”

I don’t think we’ll ever know the truth of the past, and at this point it really doesn’t matter. But what we do know is that Gift and Peter now have a chance at life, and hope for a future. Thank you Lord for your mercy and grace. Thank you Lord for blessing our lives with these special children, Gift and Peter. We thank you for providing a Christian home full of love for these children. We are so very thankful for the love and care and peace Peter and Gift will now know. But, my heart is still aching, for so many reasons. As we left Baluba for the last time today, I looked out onto the crowd of children who had gathered around us. And as they were smiling and waving good-bye, I wondered. How many more – how many more Peters and Gifts are there? Are they here right in front of me? Am I looking into their eyes now as I wave a tearful good-bye? Lord, please show us the way, guide our steps.

“Death is swallowed up in victory…through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:54

Sunday 24 August 2008We don’t know how to begin.  How do you begin when your heart is breaking and the tears won’t stop.  Yesterday we received the devastating news that Ron’s sister Jan had passed away unexpectedly.  Our minds are flooded with sweet, sweet memories and our hearts know a void not known before.  In the stillness we feel here, the stars shining brightly in the dark, dark night, we pray each star be an angel whose bright light will span time and distance, bringing peace and comfort to our family.   We have turned to the only place we can at this time, to God and His word.  We don’t understand, and I suppose we are not meant to understand death and the pain and sorrow families are consumed with.  We do know that love has no end, and neither does God’s grace and mercy.  Today we are feeling more alone than we ever have in Zambia, and so very, very far away.  We are grateful for your loving thoughts, for your prayers for our family, and for reminding us that Jan is now seated at the eternal banquet table of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  We went to church this morning at the United Church of Zambia at Twapia – the closest thing we have to a “home” church here in Zambia.  As we listened to the words of the songs today – “You are with me Jesus” – “Lord I come to You today, Lord I pray you show me your ways” – “Abide in me O Lord, abide in me I pray, You are Lord, My strength, My God” – “Jesus is our life today, tomorrow and forevermore”  - and we witnessed a congregation full of joy in the Lord, and we were reminded that nothing compares to the promise we have in Jesus.  And we offered a prayer of thanksgiving for the wonderful life of Jan, for her loving and kind ways, and for her children and grandchildren.  We thanked God for the wonderful blessing of Jan, and that we were among the privileged few who knew her as sister and friend.  Thank you Lord for our sweet, dear sister Jan.      

“Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant…” Mathew 20:26

Tuesday  19 August 2008Today Zambia lost a great man and a dedicated leader when President Levy Mwanawasa died at the age of 59 following complications from a stroke.  He was one of the few leaders in Africa who was not afraid of opposition and not afraid to fight a difficult battle.  He fought for what he believed in, and what he believed in was the Zambian people.  He was heralded for his continuing fight against corruption at all levels of the government.  He was a Christian man who lived a modest life as President of this nation.  He was not known for his charisma, but for his honesty and integrity.  He was highly respected and well known for being a true servant of the people.  President Mwanawasa was committed to improving the lives of his fellow Zambians.  He looked not only at the statistics, but also the tangible truth he could witness for himself.  I’m sure there are those who did not love this man, but I have not met any.  We were driving into town this afternoon when Foster received a text message on his phone saying the President had died.  He looked for the Zambian flag which flies high above the Provincial Government Building in town.  It was at half mast.  A sure sign that the message was true.  The first reaction here was disbelief.  The second reaction was to drop to your knees and pray.  Pray for this nation who was struggling with this strong leader to fight its way out of a corrupt political arena.  Pray that the economic advances President Mwanawasa fought so hard and so long for will not be lost.  Pray that the corrupt politicians will not be able to buy their way into office.  Pray for peace.  There is fear here.  Fear for the nation’s future.  Fear of opposing parties, fear of opposing factions within the ruling party, fear there may be attempted outbreaks of violence by opposing parties.  Kitwe, the town Foster and his family call home is a political hotspot.  Immediately following the announcement of the President’s death, soldiers were deployed and lined the streets of Kitwe, as a reminder that law and order will prevail, and they are very ready to stop any outbreaks of violence or riotous behavior.  The streets here in Ndola remain calm.  Already the streets here are quieter though, as Zambia begins a seven day national period of mourning.  There is a tremendous sense of loss.We simply don’t know the effect any of this may have on our stay here.  We will see more of what is to come following the national period of mourning.  There is no perceived sense of fear or any reason to believe there will be any trouble along our path.  But we don’t know.  Americans are well received here and welcome.  But, we are on the U.S. Embassy listing for notification of any impending danger and we can depend on their assistance as well, if needed. 

“Suffer the little children to come unto me… for of such is the kingdom of God” Mark 10:14

Monday   18 August 2008Today was the first time I saw baby Peter smile.  What a glorious site that was!  He reached out his sweet little hand to me…and he smiled.  It was a crooked, endearing little smile, and I never saw anything more beautiful in my life.  Could this even be the same child who only a few weeks ago I was so afraid would die very much too soon?  But let me back up a little...  When Foster and I returned to the hospital to check on Peter we discovered he had been discharged and we immediately went to his home in Baluba.  His mother’s cousin told us they had moved to Pamodzi, a compound far from Baluba, and on the other side of town.  She said to go to the Methodist Church and ask for Mrs. Reagan who is in a wheel chair.  Mrs. Reagan is Peter’s grandmother.  And so we drove to Pamodzi, a very large and heavily populated compound past Kansenshi and on the way to Chifubu.  As soon as we entered we asked directions.  We asked directions many, many, many times.  And each time we asked, we also asked if they knew Mrs. Reagan in a wheelchair or Peter and Sharon Mposhi.  How could it be so hard to find the Methodist Church and a woman in a wheelchair?  Finally Foster spotted a woman dressed as one of the sisters of the Methodist Church.  After a long discussion in Bemba, Foster relayed the disappointing news.  There was not a Mrs. Reagan in a wheelchair at the Methodist Church, and she did not know of Peter or his mother, Sharon.  But the good news was there was another Methodist Church.  This was the African Methodist Church and she suggested we ask at the United Methodist Church.  So Foster carefully backed the Land Cruiser out of the narrow, bumpy foot path and back onto the dirt road of Pamodzi.  And we were off in search of the next Methodist Church.  Once again, after many stops we finally located the United Methodist Church next to the line of bars in town.  The minister greeted us warmly, and was very sorry, but he had only been transferred there a week ago and did not know about any of the people we asked about.  We decided all we could do was return to Baluba, pick up Sharon’s cousin, and take her to Pamodzi with us in search of baby Peter.We returned to Baluba and were told they had moved back to Baluba, but to a different house.  As we drove down the deeply rutted path, a little girl about 5 years old shouted to us and pointed which way we should go to find Peter.  Everyone knew why we had come.  It was the house just past the banana trees.  As we walked toward the house a woman came out.  Foster explained who we were looking for and why.  She said that yes, they live there now, but Sharon had found work and Peter was with her.  But she could show us the place.  So, she hopped in the car and we were off.  I didn’t know what a large village Baluba is.  We drove all the way to the main road, crossed over to the other side, and headed deeper into the bush.  We came to one point that we weren’t sure the car could cross.  It was a dirt bridge, and someone had been digging along the side.  We stopped.  I asked how far to walk.  Foster asked the woman, and said we cannot walk.  Then he said “I think we can just make it.”  So, very, very slowly we crossed over the much too narrow “bridge”, as I leaned far out the window directing which way to turn or if there was danger of falling off the side.  Foster’s skill shone forth, and we all cheered.  We drove for what seemed like an eternity down the tiny, winding path.  We had to close the windows because the elephant grass which was so close on each side was also so tall it was bending from the weight and invading through the car windows, whipping at our faces.   We continued down what was clearly a foot path, winding around huge ant mounds, until we finally saw a large clearing.  Just beyond that was the farm where Sharon had found some work.  As we approached, we knew this was a wealthy man in Baluba – he had large planted fields, cattle, pigs, goats and chickens.  He looked to be around 80 years of age – I wonder how old he really was.  At any rate, he was very friendly and happy to receive visitors.  I don’t imagine he gets many visitors there.  Unfortunately we had just missed Sharon.  She had finished work for the day and was walking home – taking the shortcut the car could never make.  So, we drove out as we had driven in – a long and arduous drive – and I wondered if we would ever find Peter.  But as we drove back to the other side of Baluba toward the house, we saw them.  And Sharon was so happy to see us she immediately began laughing and ran toward us.  And there was Peter, tied to her back with a chitenge.  I was never so happy to see anyone.  I had feared that Sharon had fled, afraid to face their future.  But there they were.  As we talked, we found out that they had never moved to Pamodzi, but to Chipulukusu.  We would have been searching a long time!  We also discovered that Peter was on TB medication, antibiotics, and an anti-fungal for sores he had in his mouth, all of which had finished that day.  Thank you Lord, for bringing us to Peter on this day.  So we dropped them at home, quickly went back into town to the pharmacy which was about to close, picked up food for Peter as suggested by the doctor, and then back to Baluba.  And Baluba is far from town.  George is about the halfway point between Baluba and town.  When we returned we went inside the home.  It is the home of Sharon’s elder sister, and a much better place than where they previously had been.  Peter’s father, Ronald, is out of prison now and home, and had been working at the farm with Sharon.   We made arrangements to take Peter for his check-up at children’s hospital on Monday.  The parents had also been advised by the hospital to go for VCT – voluntary counseling and testing for HIV.  Peter’s sister Gift has already tested negative.  And that brings us to today.We took some clothes for Peter and his older sister Gift today.  As they all piled into the car I could see it had been a wise choice.  Gift, four years old, was dressed in a deep red velvet dress, fancy with lace and a little flower.  But as I handed Sharon the bag of clothes, I saw Gift’s beautiful dress was almost in shreds.  There were long tears throughout the well-worn fabric.  Sharon quickly dressed her in the bright red skort, white shirt and denim tennis shoes.  Peter was wearing the shirt we had given him last time, but Sharon put his new pants and socks and shoes on.  When I turned around to look at Peter and greet them all, that’s when he reached out to me and smiled.  It was so wonderful to see him looking and feeling so much better, and actually smiling.  His check-up went very well.  Next we went to the family center where Sharon and husband could be tested for HIV.  It is a very long process as there is intensive counseling first, then testing, then results.  As we waited Gift remained with Foster and me.  There was an area for the children to play, and even some toys to play with, but she was not interested.  Gift climbed onto my lap, content to watch the other children.  I asked if she wouldn’t like to play and took her by the hand to the area where the other children were pushing trucks and stacking blocks.  I got down on the floor and played dump trucks with one little boy, encouraging Gift to join in.  But she just stood and watched.  So we returned to the bench to wait.  But as the time passed, she climbed off my lap and decided to play with a few blocks and the rear axle of a broken plastic truck – alone.  But then came Johnny.  Johnny was a four year old pistol – bright and smiling, vivacious and happy and very outgoing.  Soon they were playing together, and as I watched them I thought these could be two children anywhere – well dressed, happy, laughing, and a little fighting over the toys – typical four-year old behavior.  And then I looked at the sign above the doorway for the HIV testing facility, and I saw Gift’s little belly swollen from worms, and I remembered how she had been dressed this morning… and I remembered where we are.When Sharon and husband had completed everything we were very surprised to learn that Sharon had not advised her husband about Peter’s positive HIV status, or that it was probable that Sharon was also positive.  It’s still unclear to me why he thought they were going to the testing facility, but he was clearly shocked by what he discovered.  He declined to be tested today, saying he was too shocked and needed a few days to absorb everything.  He said he will return on his own Friday.  Sharon’s test results were positive.  We return to the hospital on Wednesday for Peter and Sharon to begin their course of ARV medications.It was a sad day, but a good day.  Good to see Peter healthier and smiling.  Good to see Gift playing and smiling.  Good to be here in Zambia with the children.   Please pray for Peter and Gift and their family.  Please pray for all God’s children…all the Peters and Gifts.

Great is your love, reaching to the heavens… Psalm 57:10

Sunday 10 August 2008                                                                                     We decided not to go to church today as I had a bad headache. Around 9am there was a knock on the door. When I answered, there stood a man – a white man – with a black child in his arms, about 18 months old. The man stated very simply, “I am here to give my late wife’s clothing to you for the children and young adults you serve.” The grief in his eyes was very apparent, and very, very new. As he spoke the little boy began to cry, huge tears rolling down his tiny little cheeks, and we knew he was crying for the loss of his mother. And the man said, “This is our son”, choking back his own tears. He was a young man, under 30 years, and overcome with the grief that comes with an unexpected and sudden loss. His eyes were a bit red, and he had a dazed, faraway look in his eyes. He was desperately trying to be strong enough – long enough – to do this – to donate his wife’s clothing to children in need. His words were few, but he told me his wife, a Zambian woman, only 26 years old had just died from malaria. She lived near here, but he was living in Australia. She was preparing to move to Australia when she became ill. The malaria went to her brain, and there was nothing that could be done. Once again, we are reminded how very fragile life is here.                                                                He was in shock, and not talking much, so I don’t know how he knew to come here or who sent him – it really doesn’t matter. But, I guess we all know who really sent him. God’s presence here is always very evident. There were three women accompanying this young man who brought in several suitcases full of clothing and shoes. As we spoke they deposited heaps of clothing on school desks and chairs. I pray he and his wife’s family are taking comfort in knowing her clothing will benefit these children who have nothing. In his loss he has given a tremendous gift to our children. As he quickly turned away to leave, still choking back his tears, I asked his name and he only replied Gary. I took his hand in mine for a brief moment, and thanked him again for thinking of our children, and invited him to return at any time. May God bless Gary and his family. Please take a moment to pray for Gary and his orphaned son. It is the only gift we can give him in return.

“Consider the lilies of the field…” Matthew 6:28

Monday 4 August 2008

Today began the home visits for the students attending the OMNI School. August is a “holiday” month for the school children in Zambia. Teddy, our long-time teacher, suggested we visit this month so as not to interrupt the children’s schooling. The challenge will be to find the children at home. For some the holiday means a time to visit grandparents or parents who live far away, for some of the younger children it’s a time to visit and play with friends and relatives in George, for some of the boys it’s a time to trap as many rats as possible – earning a bit of money by selling the rats for food, and as always it’s a time for work – making the long walk to the grinding mill, constructing mud bricks for home repairs, tilling the land, and fetching water.

I packed my backpack this morning with paper and pens to record information and take family histories and my camera to photograph the children and their families. Then I packed worm medication, anti-fungal cream, triple antibiotic ointment, band-aids, alcohol wipes, rubber gloves, birthing kits, and cough drops hoping to be able to address some of the family’s needs while visiting. Teddy met me at 8am and we were off walking. This is without a doubt one of my favorite times here in Zambia. It is such a privilege to walk through the village of George and greet our children and their families. It is a privilege to see where our children live, how they live, who they live with, and hear their guardians’ comments and concerns. And it fills my heart to overflowing to know we are welcome here – OMNI and Ron and I. We were greeted by nearly everyone we passed along the way, people calling out their welcome from their homes and from neighboring trails when they would see us. Most of the children in our school now know my name, so all day I was answering the waves and calls of smiling children “Mary Sue, how are you?” Teddy was answering the calls of the adults, each one wanting to make sure we would visit their home too.

Caregivers expressed their gratitude to OMNI for bringing education to their children and this community, stating that they simply cannot afford to send their children to a government school. As one grandmother said, without OMNI her grandchildren would not be receiving an education, a chance for a future, they would be just be loitering. Now they have a chance for the future, a chance to secure a job, and a chance to help the village be lifted up. They also were thanking us for providing a meal each day for their children – for some children the only meal they receive. The children and their guardians also expressed their gratitude to the sponsors who help to make this education and feeding program possible, and for their letters. The children and their caregivers look forward to that letter so much, and to the photos the sponsors send of themselves and their families. Letters are not common in the bush of Zambia and so that is a real treat which the entire family shares in.

Today was also especially gratifying to witness the interaction of our teacher Teddy, or should I say our beloved teacher Teddy, with the children and their families. He loves the children – all the children – and they love him. Even little ones not in school, come to him and while I’m not sure what they are saying, they are soon laughing together. And when a child’s guardian brings forward a problem or health issue I can see the genuine concern in his expression and the gentle touch of his hand on a child’s shoulder.

What touched my heart most today was the visit to the home of James Maganizo, our fourth home today. James is one of the sweetest boys I have ever known. During school days he always greets me with his shy little smile, head tilted down, and hand outstretched. Today was no different. When we arrived at his home his mother hurried inside to find a seat for Teddy and I as James greeted us with the traditional Zambian handshake and tiny curtsey. The difference today was he was not dressed in his school uniform. He was in his usual, every day clothes, and I couldn’t help but want to cry. His clothes were worn and torn, his pants did not fit properly and he had no shoes. Yet he had the biggest smile I ever saw. His mother, Veronica, soon came out with a chair for me covered with a lace edged cloth, and a small wooden bench about ten inches long and eight inches from the ground for Teddy. The best she had for her guests. As she moved the chair close to me and said “You can take a seat please” I noticed how the thin legs of the chair wobbled to and fro and the deeply worn red velvet upholstery under the laced cloth. I said “Twatotela” (we thank you) and carefully sat down as she offered her hand in welcoming friendship along with a deep curtsey.

It was oftentimes difficult for me to focus on the questions we were asking as I looked at this mother and child and their surroundings. James’ mother wore a shirt much too large for her slim frame. The shirt was held together in several places with safety pins, and the chitenge wrapped around her waist was faded by the years and worn. Their home was neat in appearance, the dirt yard still remaining with traces of the lines from having been swept with the elephant grass broom. As with all the homes in George, there is no electricity and no running water. The tiny mud brick home has been painted, using dirt containing clay mixed with water to create the decorative reddish orange trim at the bottom of the structure. While we don’t see anything you could call plentiful here in George, this home was stark by comparison to most. The roof was covered with the typical thatching, but the grass was sparse. The underlying plastic on the roof meant to keep rain out was missing in many places, having suffered the effects of the wind and rain and heat. There was no shelter for the cooking area, just an open fire near the front of the house where several small logs were burning slowly and a tiny black pot was perched directly in the center of the low flames. There was a small plastic tub at the front of the house where she had been washing their few clothes. There were no curtains or chitenges, not even an empty sack hanging in the windows or doorways which is customary here. There was a wood door at the front entrance, but it fell short of reaching the top of the doorway by nearly a foot.

James’ mother was very pleasant and soft-spoken. She answered each question to the best of her ability, slowly and thoughtfully, and was ready with James’ clinic card to show us he had received all of his vaccinations and that his recorded birth date is the 20th of October 1997. James is a single orphan. His mother explained that his father was attacked by criminals and killed in 2001. James has seven older half-brothers and sisters and one half-brother who died at the age of eight from yellow fever. His mother, Veronica was born in 1952 and has been ill for the past four years from a variety of causes – swelling of the face, fever, chest pains and the like. She and James go to the medical clinic at Twapia when they are ill, but care there is limited. Teddy told me that there have been many times she has been very ill. When the parents and guardians helped to clear a piece of land she was too sick to help and her elder daughter came and did the work, but Veronica came and was there. She is a responsible mother doing the best she can for her son. We discovered that they usually eat only once a day – nshima (the staple food of corn meal cooked with water) and some few vegetables, usually the ones which grow wild here. When she is able, she buys tomatoes and onions from the market and sells in George where there is no market, in order to earn a little money. When I asked if she had any questions for me or anything she would like to tell me her only reply was to express her gratitude for the education OMNI is providing for her child. Without the OMNI School James would not be able to attend school. And she is grateful for the meal he receives every day at school – she can see is healthier now. And in the traditional Zambian manner, she clapped her hands together and thanked me for visiting her.

This family I think is among the poorest of the poor. Yet they asked for nothing. There was nothing but gratitude in Veronica’s heart. She welcomed me. She thanked OMNI. She thanked me. My heart was breaking when we finally said good-bye. I have tremendous respect for Veronica. I respect her strength, her courage, her determination, and her dedication to her son. I think I can learn a lot from Veronica and James. Rest assured, we will be returning with clothing and shoes for both mother and son. Tonight I will be saying an extra prayer for James and his mother, and all the families here in such great need. And I’ll also be saying a prayer of thanksgiving – for the sweet, sweet smile of James and that God has blessed him with this special mother.

“Worship the Lord with gladness; come before him with joyful songs.” Psalm 100:2

Sunday 3 August 2008

Thomas Bwalya was one of the brick layers working at the OMNI project site last year, and we are blessed to now call him our friend. He stopped last week to welcome us back, and brought the latest addition to his family, Mabel. She was born last October shortly after we left and she is one of the happiest babies I have ever seen. When Thomas stopped to visit he also invited us to attend his church, and so today was our first church service since arriving in Zambia. Thomas and the minister of the church, Pastor Steve Makhoti, arrived at 8am to escort us to their church. A most welcoming gesture, and one of true friendship. The church is at Dag Hammarskjöld, a neighboring community to George. As we drove we talked of many things. We talked about the difficulties of sustaining a church in the bush of Zambia where total weekly donations average 10,000 kwacha (roughly $3). We talked about blessings – that the truest blessing is having Jesus in your heart and walking in His ways. We talked about the differences of living in the United States and Zambia. We talked about strength. The strength of the people of Zambia. The physical strength and the spiritual strength that is so evident here. I said I wished I could have even a fraction of the strength we have witnessed here, both spiritually and physically. Pastor Makhoti responded with “You are a white woman living in the bush of Zambia. You are stronger than you think. And remember Philippians 4:13 – You can do all things through Christ. Your strength, as our strength, comes through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.” Those wise and kind words were what I needed to hear today, and I thank God for that reminder – that we can do all things through Him.

Then we began the long drive into Dag Hammarskjöld. Now a familiar place, we first drove down the deeply pitted asphalt road, more dirt than asphalt now, lined with tall, tall pines as far as the eye can see. Then onto a dirt road, barren on each side except for the high tension wires and one small stream where a few children were gathered washing. And then onto the dirt path, mostly used as a foot path, with deep ruts and many washed out areas. Homes are few and isolated. They are the typical homes of the villages here – small mud brick homes, one or two rooms, with a thatched roof. As we drove, the path narrowed with each turn, and we made our way past tall elephant grass, winding around trees and huge ant hills (most about 20 feet high). Then we turned onto church “road”. We drove in and around and through church yards until we finally reached Deliverance Everngelist Pentecost Church. As we made the long, difficult drive we discussed with Pastor Makhoti his weekly journey to preach at this church and minister to this congregation. He lives in Masala and takes the bus to the roadside of Dag Hammerskojld. When I say bus, I don’t mean a city bus like we are used to in the United States. This is a mini-bus, overcrowded with people sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, a driver who may or may not have a license, and the bus may or may not have enough fuel, and it very likely might break down on the way to your destination. Once the pastor makes it to the entrance of Dag Hammarskjöld he walks over 15 kilometers to reach his congregation, dressed in a suit and tie, and carrying a case with his Bible and notes. And I am reminded once again that we can do all things through Christ.

When we arrived there was no one else at church. But as I said, homes are far and walks are long. Thomas also explained that many of the women from the congregation were across the river at a coming of age camp for one of the girls in the community. As we entered the church we saw the familiar split log benches, close to the ground and supported by short round stumps. I sat in what I thought to be a sturdy looking bench, the end of the bench embedded into the wall. The roof is constructed of timbers which form cross-supports, then covered with plastic, and finally topped with elephant grass thatching. The sun was hot, and shone through spots where the plastic had been torn away by the wind and weather. The main support for the roof is a tree, a bit off-center, which has been cut into a “Y” shape and holds the cross beam securely in place.

After some time, Pastor Makhoti decided to begin the service even though there were only eight of us present. As honored guests we were invited to sit at the front of the church, sharing a bench with the pastor and one of the church elders. The service, of course, began with singing – Pastor began singing a song of praise and the others joined in. As the song continued, people entered the church. One by one, two by two, adults and children alike walked through the door singing as they entered. Before the song ended those rough benches were full, almost overfull, as our number grew from eight to eighty-eight, and the walls very nearly shook with the power of that song. We were reminded of one of our favorite movies, “The Bishop’s Wife”. In the movie a boy’s choir has been called for practice, but only two boys have come. As they begin singing, an angel in their midst calls in the remaining children with a wave of his hand until all the seats are full and the choir is glorious in its strength and harmony.

Today is a national day of prayer for the President of Zambia, Levy Mwanawasa, as he continues recovering from a stroke in a French hospital. There were many prayers for the return of his good health and a full and speedy recovery, as his death or continuing disability could prove disastrous to the nation, many fearing attempted takeovers by rebels and dissident factions. Prayers that God’s favor may embrace the people of Zambia. Our lesson today was Acts 2:42-47 – the fellowship of believers and the favor of God. We implore God that His favor may grace our lives, and thank God for the favor He has bestowed upon us in so many ways.

Many come forward to offer their testimony of thanksgiving for the gifts and favor God has shown them the past week. We hear thanks for healing, thanks for safe journey, and thanks for the visitors from America who have come to worship with them and share in their joy of the Lord. Members of the congregation also came forward, kneeling on the hard dirt floor, asking for prayers of healing. The congregation was singing in beautiful harmony and the quiet, slow beat of a drum in the background, as Pastor Makhoti laid hands on each person, praying for each according to their need. One young woman went into seizures as demons were exercised from her. Two other women came forward and gently held her arms and tied her chitenge around her feet so she would not hurt herself as she writhed on the dirt floor of the church, shaking violently. When the seizure ended, she was carried from the church unconscious, and the two women cared for her until she was able to return.

There are many, many songs – songs of praise and thanksgiving, songs which tell a Bible story (Moses and the parting of the Red Sea), songs of deliverance, songs begging forgiveness of our sins, songs of salvation and redemption, and songs of the power of faith and God’s grace. The women of the church exit the building, and reenter dancing and singing. They form a circle at the front of the church where they continue singing and dancing, using hand motions to tell a story. The youth of the church form a line, keeping step with their song, and carry the drums and tambourines forward. They form a circle around the drums, singing and marching and asking for God’s guidance. All the while the congregation is singing along in unbelievable harmony, some with hands raised in praise, others clapping in joy. Even Thomas’ nine month old daughter, tied on the back of his older daughter with a chitenge, is laughing and clapping her hands. There is a song about taking the gospel out into the world, sharing the love of Jesus, and making Him known to all. Pastor Makhoti is very animated. With his contagious smile, and holding his Bible high above his head, marches throughout the church singing, demonstrating the way we can bring God’s Word to all the world – walk – march – sing – and proclaim the glory of God to all the nations.

We arrived home again around 2:30 in the afternoon accompanied by Thomas. Worship in Zambia is not an hour long service. It is a day truly dedicated to the Lord. It is joy – it is celebration – it is a lesson in humility – it is a lesson in worship – worshipping with all our hearts, all that we have and all that we are.

(The entire congregation is not pictured, as children scattered to play, and many women were busy preparing food. Pastor Makhoti is next to me, and that’s Thomas next to him, holding his Bible high.)

“I will sing and make music with all my soul.” Psalm 108:1

Thursday 31 July 2008

I wondered at all the commotion this morning, as I heard the loud noises of desks being shifted and lots of chatter. As I entered the school room I saw the children carrying desks outside and discovered that today is cleaning day at the OMNI School. Tomorrow is the last day of school, and today is the day the teachers have designated for cleaning the school rooms and the yard. The children quickly removed all the desks and chairs from two of the classrooms while Ron and Teddy dismantled the two large tables the children have been using in the other classroom. The tables are actually dining tables for the house, but are serving a much needed purpose in the classroom now. The steel bases are in need of repair and will be transported to Twapia, to William the welder for repair and reinforcement. The yard was now covered with desks and the children stacked some chairs, and formed trains with others – sitting one behind the other in the line of chairs. When I looked back inside all I could see was a thick dark cloud circulating around the red of the children’s uniforms. Remember, this is the “dusty season”. Some of the boys were busy sweeping the floors, using the traditional brooms made from elephant grass. The brooms are only about 15” long and the grass is tied at one end with a small piece of leather or rope. The boys were bent over low, quickly moving the dirt and debris, eventually sweeping it outside onto the ground. While they were sweeping others were fetching water. One child did all the pumping, while the rest formed a procession filling containers and carrying the water. Some watered the garden and others brought buckets and pans of water for cleaning. The older children washed the walls – as high as they could reach standing on chairs, while others mopped the floors and washed the windows and doors. They cleaned according to what they are used to: the small traditional brooms, a thread-bare rope mop, water only as warm as it comes from the well, and no soap. The older boys were especially proud of their accomplishment in cleaning and requested a photograph, as cleaning is not typically for the older males in Zambia. The older girls inside began singing as they washed the windows and walls. The girls washing the windows outside joined in, and then I heard drumming. When I went outside to see who had brought a drum I found several boys using the desks as drums; beating the laminate tops with one hand and the metal side with the other, keeping perfect rhythm. It was like a magnet, and the children who were playing drew nearer, and all the children joined in singing. It was beautiful - children of all ages, working, playing and singing together. When one song would finish, you could hear another voice begin the next song almost immediately. And it wasn’t always an older, stronger voice. Often it was the soft voice of a small child which began, but the others always joined in. I wish I could tell you everything they were singing, but the only time I could join in was when one tiny little voice began “We are singing in the light of God...”

"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." Romans 8:18

Nothing is ever “easy” by American terms in Zambia. Mary Sue and Ron are sure being tested with many challenges. The first is something that we all take for granted – electricity. Mary Sue says that first they can’t get into the internet for more than three minutes at a time – not enough time to post a blog. And then, when they have internet access, they don’t have enough electricity to charge the battery on the lap top. So, I will do my best to convey what has been going on this past week at the George Compound.

First, I know that all of you are waiting to hear about the snake situation at George. They continue to see snakes and Ron is getting very good at killing them. They now have a collection of snakes hanging from a tree. Mary Sue asked why they needed to hang them there? The reply was that they were proud to have killed the snake and they wanted everyone to know about it. Please pray for their safety!

School is in recess at George Compound. Tomorrow is a holiday called Farmer’s Day. I assume that this means that all of the crops will be harvested and traded or maybe it is just another day off to laze in the sun and drink the homemade “hooch”? Nevertheless, Mary Sue and Teddy will begin interviews of the families living at George Compound. This is being done to determine what children should be in school at the OMNI Village and also to find out if there are double orphans (both mother and father deceased) that need housing assistance. Please pray for all of the people living at George Compound.

The infamous steel building is now about one third completed. Most all of the rafters have been put in place and the wall panels are being installed. All this by four hard- working men -- Ron and three other Zambian workers. Ron expects to complete this building, which will be used as storage, before they leave in October. The school building/cafeteria still needs to be completed as well. Windows need to be installed and the inside needs to be cleaned up before the desks can be moved to the new building. Mary Sue expects to purchase the rest of the school equipment this month and have the school ready for occupancy by next term. Please pray for good health and strength as this large task is completed.

Update on the housing situation for Mary Sue and Ron. They now have a heater for their bedroom (it gets very cold at night)! Imagine the children and families with no shoes or blankets. There is no running water to the house but the plumbing has been installed!! To flush the toilet, just fill the tank with water and flush – never mind that the water pump is about 300 feet from the house!! Shower, what shower? OMNI team members can think back to the “Agape showers” we used to take. Well, this is what Ron and Mary Sue have to look forward to once a week. Otherwise, it is just wash up however you can! After one month in Zambia, Ron decided to treat Mary Sue to dinner out at the Castle Lodge. This is the place they stayed for several nights when they first arrived. The owner took pity on them and told them to shower before dinner – no charge!! Mary Sue said she didn’t know how great hot, running water on her head and shoulders could feel. Please pray for comfort, grace and thanksgiving for good friends!

May God watch over you and bless you, Ron and Mary Sue!

“…Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Colossians 1:27

Friday 25 July 2008

Many of you will remember baby Peter Mposhi from the April team’s blog. The team met Peter during a mobile medical clinic that was held in Baluba, which is in the deep bush, deeper than George. Peter was brought in by his mother Sharon, and accompanied by his older sister, Gift. Peter is 1 year 8 months, but looks to be around nine months. His tiny face was thin and drawn, his large eyes desperate and pleading, as he clung tightly to his mother’s breast. Peter and his mother both tested positive for HIV/Aids. Peter’s older sister, Gift, who is 4 years 4 months tested negative. The father is in prison. The team transported Peter to Arthur Davison Children’s Hospital in Ndola, where he could receive care in the malnutrition ward and then be placed on HIV medications. What Foster, our Zambia director discovered after the team returned to the United States, was that Sharon fled the hospital with baby Peter before the medications had begun. We’re still not clear as to why she fled, but there are many superstitions here regarding hospitals, and so many do not leave the hospital alive there is some reluctance. Remember, we are in a third world country. The people here, especially those from the bush have been raised according to tribal traditions and have very little knowledge of hospitals. Most of what they know of hospitals is that the rear of the hospital, the morgue, is where a funeral begins. Witchcraft is still practiced in many areas. And also consider the limited resources of a hospital in a third world country such as Zambia. We find dedicated physicians and nurses in these facilities, but their resources are limited. Time and time again we have seen medical equipment sitting idle because there are no funds for maintenance or repairs, or because they have been donated from another country and replacement parts are not available here. At any rate, I do not know why Sharon fled with Peter; there could be so many reasons.

I met Peter on our first day in Zambia, the 10th of July. Ron and I were accompanying Foster on his usual monthly rounds of delivering food stuffs to the children OMNI cares for on a continuing basis. I immediately saw why the team’s hearts had ached so after meeting Peter. Sweet, innocent Peter. A child who has lived such a short time, and yet touched the hearts of so many. As we drove down the very rough path to their home in Baluba, Sharon came from her neighboring cousin’s house with Peter wrapped in a chitenge tied close to her. We stopped the car and there was Peter, holding tightly to his mother, his only security. As we drew near I could see that desperate look in his beautiful brown eyes. You can see so much in his eyes; the pain, the pleading, the anguish, the despair. It is just too much to see in the eyes of a child. And as I looked deep into those wide eyes, I knew I was looking straight into the face of Jesus. Before me was an innocent child condemned to death. And what could I do. His tiny hand reached for me, and as I held that sweet little hand I said a silent prayer for this child and his family, and I thanked God for the blessing of Peter’s life. My heart was breaking wide open, as my mind was flooded with questions that have no answer. I wanted to drop to my knees and just cry and cry and cry, until no more tears would come. I knew I could not. But I did try to remember God’s promises – He is with us always. His name is Emmanuel, God with us. And I knew that Jesus Christ in all His grace and mercy would never leave this child. And the best we can do is to love him, love him as Christ has asked us to, and care for him the best way we are able.

As we walked across the rut filled dirt path to their home I was struck by what a barren looking place it was. A tiny little house; the tremendous need much too apparent. All I could see were two recently washed blankets, riddled with holes that lay drying on top of some small plants just above the dusty ground. Then I looked at Peter’s sister, Gift. There was no trace of a smile, wearing a torn dress, she is petite and pretty, and I wondered what would become of her in the days to come.

We had brought kapenta, tiny whole fish, and ground nuts (similar to peanuts) which had been ground into a fine meal. Both very nutritious and packed with the good things Peter’s tiny body needs. We made arrangements to take Peter for medical care on Tuesday, after Sharon returns from a church conference. Peter’s cough was deep and worrisome. As we drove away Foster also explained that Sharon drinks too much, and he wonders how much of the food Peter actually receives, as they spend much of their time at the cousin’s home, even sharing meals there. Everyone’s need is so great.

When we returned on Tuesday, the change in Peter’s condition was dramatic and devastating. In those few days his little face had become drawn and sullen, he was not responsive, and his cough had worsened. Sharon asked if we could also transport another relative to Twapia Clinic – a young man whose feet and legs had severely swollen. When we saw him, we knew at once that this man was actively dying. The result of waiting too late for an HIV diagnosis; the medications unable to alleviate any of the effects of the disease, and it quickly progresses to an advanced stage. To see this man, and the look in his eyes – searching and frantic – it is something I will never forget. We drove in silence, except for sound of the deep wheezing and coughing of Peter, and the quiet sobbing of his mother Sharon. In fact, Foster and I were also crying, silently wiping the tears away, seeing how quickly Peter had become so desperately ill, and fearing his time here on earth was quickly drawing to an end. Peter was admitted to the hospital again. This time Sharon assured Foster there would be no fleeing. She had seen the results and how very sick Peter had become.

We returned in a few days to find Peter looking better and more alert, but with large sores at the corners of his mouth. Foster spoke to a nurse and she said they were running blood tests, and the doctor had Sharon stop breast feeding due to her positive status. Peter was improved and we were happy to see Sharon so attentive.

Ron and I visited Peter again today at the hospital. Although Foster is at his home in Kitwe, and we knew we could not speak to the mother, Sharon, we were hoping to find a nurse who would be willing to talk to us. When we arrived the nurse in charge brought Sharon and Peter out to see us, and then introduced me to Peter’s doctor. I was so grateful to have this unique opportunity to speak with him and learn of Peter’s condition and what plans are in place. Dr. David said Peter was severely malnourished when he arrived at the hospital last week. I expressed my concern over this, since OMNI has been providing ample food for him. Unfortunately, it seems Foster’s fears that others may also be consuming the food were not unfounded. I’m not sure how we will deal with that. The first goal at the hospital was to build him up nutritionally, which they have done. The doctor confirmed that Peter is definitely HIV positive, and they also fear he now has TB and/or pneumonia. The x-ray is indicative of TB, but they need to do more tests to be sure. He said once the TB status is determined, they will most likely treat the TB and pneumonia before placing him on HIV meds. The sores were much improved around Peter’s mouth, and he was much more responsive, even reaching out to take hold of Ron’s hand. Dr. David assured me if there were any needs before I returned to the hospital he would phone me. I also asked the doctor if he had the opportunity to observe Sharon with Peter. He said Sharon has taken very good care of Peter, and has even helped care for other babies whose mothers were not caring for them. We will return again next week to check on Peter. In God’s eyes we are all one in family with Peter, Gift and Sharon; brother and sisters in Christ. Please remember them in your prayers.
“The Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.” Romans 8:26