Tutemwane.

Tutemwane, let's love eachother. No more competing, Pete.

First of all, while Gillian is very excited about posting, I feel shy, nervous, and as though I might relay everything in an inadequate manner. But here I sit, typing away anyways... I hope you're pleased.

Time is bizarre, I'm obsessed with calculating how long since I've left, how long I've been here, how much longer until I move again, etc. I'm trying to conquer this ever-present thought pattern, as one would suspect that living in the moment is a great deal healthier than allowing one's mind to drift from past to future all of the time, but kicking this habbit is harder than I'd like to admit.

My body is my own again, and I'm very thankful. I no longer feel the need to be in bed by ten after nine, and I've recently remembered how I usually walk. There's still the odd vitamin deficiency, or malaria pill side-effect, but I'm feeling more and more like myself everyday. (Good thing it's only taken me 3 and a half weeks.)
Speaking of malaria med. side-effects, I've failed to have a sleep since I've left that wasn't filled with crazy dreams from start to finish. I've always been a dreamer, but never before have they been quite so action-packed, filled with random aquaintances and strangers, and had so many movie-like special effects. If you've been a part of my life in any form over the last 14 years, it's very likely that you've been a part of one of my dreams. I'm definately enjoying them, and I'll be very disapointed the first morning I wake up to realise that my sub-conscious entertainment has slowed down.

Gillian and I found a sign for a Baptist church in Emasdale, near where we live, and decided to check it out last Sunday. Much to our delight, we found a mere 40-50 people crammed into a small room sitting on pews lined with multiple hymn books. It was really wonderful to be able to go somewhere where we didn't know anyone, and where no one was expecting us. People were very friendly and welcoming, as is very common here in Zambia, and many of them wanted to talk with us afterwards to hear our story. We weren't meant to sit upfront as special visitors, or asked to share in the service. We were normal people, who went to a new church on Sunday morning. It made me think a lot about home, and once after closing my eyes during a prayer, I was shocked to find myself surrounded by Zambians when I re-opened them again. It was very interesting for me to realise that up until that service our experience with Christians in Zambia had been mostly limited to one end of a spectrum of believers here. That's all I can muster to say about that one.

I'm still loving the babies, it's going to be very sad to leave them here... Today Gil and I took two of them for a walk, it's sad that a boy over two years of age is shocked by what the sky looks like. I've started to become quite overwhelmed at the delays that many of the babies have because of the way life works in an orphanage, but we've also seen many improvements in the 3 weeks we've been working, and of course there are many rewards that come along with their snotty, poopy selves.
Many of the women we work with are quite fascinating, and it's neat when they tell us some of their thoughts. The sister in charge, Irene is wonderful. Recently we were talking with her about the orphanage system and the young women having the babies, and the subject of abortion came up. It's mind-blowing to realise the possible connection of abortion rates to the fazing out of orphanages in Canada. Here, in Zambia, where abortions are illegal, it makes sense that there are many babies being left in the hospitals, or abandoned other places shortly after they are born. In Canada, most of the babies that make it to full-term are the ones that the mother wants. So, probably we don't need to focus ourselves on adopting all of the African babies... I don't know, but when Irene heard us making this connection, she told us to convince the mother's to keep them and then send them here. She said, "I'll take them." Interesting, and slightly backwards, to think of Canadian babies being raised in Zambian orphanages...

There's much more to say, but I'm becoming overwhelmed with shyness and I'm running out of time.

I'd really like a cold glass of soymilk, a carrott, some jalapino chips, and chocolate covered coffee beans.
I watched 3 chickens get their throats slit, and hated it.
We had to learn an African dance at a bridal shower infront of 300 women.
We're starting to hate our filtering waterbottle, it hurts my mouth.
I'm beginning to look right first before crossing the street.
We're back to our normal "I hate the morning" selves.
I'm excited.
I love very much.
Send me your thoughts, your life's happenings, your learnings... but don't send it on faceboook, because it doesn't work here.

Hoping you're well,
Krista
xo