We're Posting!!! (And together! How beautiful! Now all of our comments will be combined, and Peter can quit counting for whatever reason he is claiming to be counting for now. -K)
Peter's turn -
Well, weekly readers, I'd like to start by giving my sincere apologies for missing last weekend's post. the truth is that i was so buzy gion to goodbye parties at the mission station that i just didn't have time to post. What did you miss...
Let's start with a ramjam of a summary regarding the 9 workdays left unreported:
monday - gordon returns and the sun comes out - work moves forward on several accounts! Word is given to tile the kitchen (final room) of the flat we've been tiling. I get my tiler helpers started and then i go to check progress on the foundation. Foundation is almost done, but gordon orders another course of bricks to raise the level of the duplex a bit. I start bringing in loads of infill as the guys spread the dirt around and start hacking away at the treestump that remains.
some day after monday - I cut the edge pieces of tile as the work is finished and we ramjam the grouting to get finished. good work team tile. I start grabbing sandy soil from just by the duplex (grade needs to be taken down anyways) and hauling it right into the foundation with the tractor bucket. the guys use shovels, rakes, and paint cans filled with cement as tampers. guys also work on digging out the stump and cutting all the roots.
another day after monday - The bricklayers who have just finished tiling begin the final course of bricks on the foundation. I keep beinging in soil. I run over a water connection that we have to quickly patch up. after work I convince my favourite three workers to put n some overtime and help me cut the million pieces of wood neccessary for the trusses. also, we finish building the prototype truss - looks good!
some other day after monday - stump roots are all severed but it turns out to be far too massive to pull out with the tractor. two men are contracted to chop the whole thing into small pieces of firewood - amazing. they work at it for about five days straight and amass a huge pile of firewood. also, two men are contracted to cut the huge tree trunk into lumber by hand. it's a meter wide! first they cut it into two 3 meter lengths with their axes, then they cut two flat sides (edge the log) with their axes. then they dig a large pit and move the log over the pit. then they snap some lines along it and use a long saw to saw it along its length (if this is boring, know that it's also the most amazing thing i've seen in africa so far. I'll try to post pictures). it takes them days to turn this huge log into a few pieces of lumber, but apparently by selling the lumber they make more money per day than if they were just working per hour (average wage here seems to be below $3 per day).
Some other day after that - we finish infil and lazer-level some points around the exterior to put up forms for the slab. We drive in stakes every 2m or so and screw planks to the stakes that have been straight-edged with a sideways axe. we continue to work overtime to cut the truss pieces.
Some days in the middle somewhere - we move a huge metal container on logs with the tractor. we get a load of rocs from a village an hour down the road and get stranded with a dead battery. fortunately we find the only person within miles to have a cell phone and he calls justin for a rescue. I have to give him a dollar to pay for his talktime. I take a load of food in the tractor bucket to the leper colony.
last work day - amazingly we finish the forms for the slab as well as finish cutting all the truss pieces (still waiting for nails to assemble them). I feel satisfied that things are in order for the guy coming from ontario this week to take over the duplex building. Despite several delays and frustrations along the way, God seems to have things under control and running in His own timeline. I flew out on a friday, several of the missionaries came out to say good-bye. all in all it was a very pleasant trip. I got to work, meet missionaries, get to know native zambians, play soccer, and see God at work.
Special thanks to all the missionaries who welcomed me and made me feel at home - especially the McAdams, Sister Margie, and even Brenda. thank-you for all the delicious meals and fun movie nights. You too Andrew, JP, and Bradley - excellent late-night rook games.
I flew into Lusaka and immediately ran into Gil and Krista screaming at the grocery store (corrections brought to you by Krista: We were never "screaming", both of us may have made slight joyous sounds at Peter's unexpected appearance in our line of vision, but there was no "screaming"). I stayed at the CMML guest house and spent the last day/night with the family they've been staying with. we bussed to vic falls (ahem: Livingstone -K) on our way to Botswana and right now we are enjoying ourselves at Fawlty Towers hostel in Livingstone.
Sorry for the boring post. to spice up your life a little bit, why don't you listen to Lust for Life by Iggy Pop and dance like crazy around your living room floor. it helps if you are wearing shorts on your head and socks on your hands.
thank-you and have an enjoyable flight.
Peter out.
Krista in.
Lovely day to all of you. It's nearly 2300 hours here, so that leaves all of you Albertans at around 2:00 p.m. Finishing a late lunch? Crunching the numbers in some weird engineering calculation? Debating taking an afternoon nap in some dark corner of the Armoury? School? Kids? Work? Waiting for the bus in a giant ice cube? Sounds like a fair February 26th to me. (Happy birthday, Bryce.) While you do whatever you're doing I'm debating whether or not I feel weird about listening to music off of Peter's computer, and wishing there some sort of fan in this sitting room. I should be in bed, but Pete convinced me to write -very Peter of him.
Our last few days in Lusaka were fabulous -in their surprising, sentimental, halariously annoying ways. Friday we ran into Pete -which lines up with every else in Peter's life. How perfect that we found him just after we had all picked out our own favourite piece of fruit in a grocery store that Peter had never been to before, in a city where Peter wasn't expected for another day. So we had coffee and went to Pete's for a very western supper where I rediscovered cauliflower and broccoli, and then some post-supper fruit salad and e-mails.
Saturday we bought bus tickets and went to the Lusaka National Museum, which kind of sucked, but it was Japan day -so that really boosted the museum's overall appeal. Lots of Zambians running around in Japanese martial-arts-wear, doing jumps and suicide rolls, etc. Quite amusing. Also, "be sure not to miss the witch-craft exhibit." -Lonely Planet. As Peter pointed out, the defence charm had been stolen, but everything else was pretty interesting. All of that reading hurt our eyes, so we went for lunch, and parted ways.
Sunday we picked up Pete and his stuff at the bus stop and made our last trip to the Baptist church. The service was a little slow, but we sang a couple of good hymns and the people were very excited to have us as their guests once more. Afterwards, the three of us went with the supervising temporary pastor for lunch at his house. It was a bizarre experience, with his house being much larger and nicer than any of the homes I had been in during our time in Lusaka. We sat in the sitting room with another guest and I watched in delight, (and great surprise,) as the pastor (being man of the house,) helped his wife set the table and prepare lunch. It was shockingly different from the home we've been staying in, where the kids/other relatives in the home are preparing in the kitchen and much yelling of requests and demands from Mom and Dad come from the living room. After lunch and some conversation we went home to the usual Sunday afternoon wedding dance rehearsal. Peter was welcomed once again with open arms into our family -this time even Baby-Mwila warmed up to him, in the process forgetting all about how exciting Gil and I am. I was sad, and jealous, and very thrilled to be able to watch the spectacle that was Mwila delighting in Peter's games. Beautiful, brilliant, Baby-Mwila. Gil and I had wrote cards to everyone in the family, so that night after supper we handed them out and said our thank-yous, expressing gratitude for the blessing it was to have shared our lives with that bustling household. Then, one by one each of the members of the family said their "Thank you, we'll miss you, God bless the rest of your trip..." It was nice. They are kind people.
Then we roasted marshmellows over the brazier and made S'mores. Wonderful, sweet-toothed Zambians liked this treat better than our previously baked Apple Crisp (or more commonly referred to as "Apple Krista".) Apparently, baked apples are kind of nasty. It was lovely to share something so familiar and nostalgic.
Since Peter was spending the night, and there was also a random Aunt and Uncle who had come to visit for a few days, the house was a little packed and needed some re-arranging. Aunt and Uncle X and Y took the girl's room, Peter slept in our room, the boy's slept on the kitchen floor, and we joined the 3 other adult girls in the living room on the floor. Not sure why the boys didn't join Peter in their room, but Peter thinks it's because "he'd probably do some weird white-guy thing in his sleep and freak them out." Gil and I found ourselves in hysterics over our "slumber party from grade seven" in the living room. Esther properly squished Gil a number of times before she left for the couch, and I, afraid to roll onto the nasty foot-carpet underneath me, slept most of the night in a crooked position, loosing the capability to breathe out of my nose -similar to sleepovers in the seventh grade before I discovered allergy medication that protected me from the nasties inside of weird basement-floor-carpets in strange homes.
Saying goodbye was different. Six weeks is a long time to spend with people in an obscure country you may never have the chance to return to. But as Chris (the father of the home,) had mentioned, "these connections are only the beginnings of the ripples that will somehow reach into our lives again...." or something along those lines. It'll be interesting to see how connected our lives may be down the line, that's for sure.
We gave Baby-Mwila our washing bowl, that was nice.
Our bus was scheduled to leave at 1000 on Monday, we were instructed to be there at 0930 to make sure that stand-bys didn't get our seats. So, 0930 we show up, and five too many men grab our bags to throw them into a bus. We take a last-minute pee break, buy ourselves an apple and settle into our seats, ready for the sixish hour bus ride ahead of us. Around 1230 we got hungry again, so we took another pay-potty trip and buy ourselves peanuts, yoghurt, and nasty meat-pies which I helped to eat the crusts of. Around 1345 we rolled out of Lusaka, just in time to be a wee bit early for the 1400 departure time that we declined in order to get to Livingstone earlier. Gillian didn't know how true it was when she joked when we first arrived that "we wouldn't leave until the bus was full anyways." Zambia is halarious sometimes.
The bus trip was lovely, neat to see the country-side.
Fawlty Towers has proven wonderful so far. I had a hot shower this morning, that was great. And there's a pool, which was welcoming after Peter convinced me to go on a run with him in my out-of-shape conditions, under the blazing sun, at 1400 this afternoon. I'm very excited about running with Peter. I went for a run last week by myself, and it was most amazing. My body is continuing to remember itself. While I first walked up the steps to our dorm yesterday all I could think about was all of the different muscles that were re-awakening during that motion. Tonight I feel amazing -Gotta love endorphins, Pete promises I'm going to get addicted again, can't wait. Mid-mornings are still kind of awful -I'm starting to really hate the malaria pills. They seem dumb at this point. AND, this morning, for the first time since I've been here, I couldn't remember my dream. I think it had something to do with how I was mostly dead in the comfort of my new bed, but still -very lame.
So that's where I'm at.
Gil and I constantly "write" blog posts outloud while we're in funny situations, but none of them have made it here. Sorry. (But not really.)
Lisa, are you home? When? Any more riots?
Mom, I'm going to Victoria Falls tomorrow, and Botswana for a week on Friday. We're getting a new number when we get to South Africa, I'll let you know what it is and then I expect a call. ;)
Dad, what's your cell number? I think we've figured out how to text home. Actually, Peter's known all along and finally enlightened Gil and I.
Grandma?
Whit, thanks for the call, sorry my phone died. Though, I was kind of glad, because it reminded me of times at home where we talked and accidentally hung up on each other, but never called back and it was beautiful that it never mattered. Nicenice. You're nice.
James, you get our text? You were the trial.
Josh, are you swimming lots like you wanted to? I remembered while I was swimming today. How's your west-coast family?
Kristina, Read your Bible -Pray everyday. ;) Remember as you begin to grow fins from all of your pool/ocean visits, it's probably not very easy to be a fisher of men if you turn into a fish. (Oh, and I listened to our BrandNew album at the beginning of this post.)
Lindsay, Ontario?
Andrea, Cranbrook?
Lindsey, sample room?
Alanna? Alanna? Alanna?
Jared, want to lose a game of crib?
Probably enough shoutouts for now.
The computers at 97% now, I think I've done my share in it's revival time.
I know you'll probably roll your eyes at this, but I'm sure glad that you exist.
Lovve.
Krista out.
So I'm the last one.
We went to Victoria falls today and drank half the Zambezi, or perhaps drank is the wrong word. Today the Zambezi poured itself down our throats. Turns out it doesn't taste very good.
Zambians aren't terribly safety conscious, which isn't too suprising, but i found myself wondering in amazement as we negotiated a bridge crossing near the falls. Pummelled by the vigourous spray that kept forcing my blind eyes closed, water twisting at our feet as it flowed in a current down the pathway, onto the bridge and fell, fell, fell far below us. As I clung to the rails, trying to figure out if there was a way i could face in order to open my eyes and see something, a man stopped me yelling at me to take off my flipflops because it was slippery and I'd fall off the bridge. I think he thought I was scared. I couldn't manage to explain that I was just trying to see. Couldn't see him anyway, too much spray not to mention my eyes are broken. I always feel like my nose is running and my eyelids are crooked when I'm wet and without my glasses. After my advice-yelling friend I proceeded, glasses shoved in a pocket, flipflops in one hand, the other searching for the slimy rail. I think 'exhilirating' is the right word. Spray, spray everywhere. A downpour, sidepour, up-pour. I missed you Mom, you would have squeled endlessly with me.
I've never seen so much water in so many different places. Never been entirely surrounded water and yet standing on solid (dry?) ground. Krista suggested that Vic falls as the spot where water-dwellers became landfolk since you can learn to walk while still breathing water.
- we went down to look at the bottom, got lost, trapped by fighting baboons which are really, really nasty, broke a toe*, suffered a wasp sting, 3 puncture wounds, ate lunch, drank 12 drinks, went to the bathroom several times, got taken by 'friendly authentic' Zambian curio vendors and a taxi driver.
- I have a fair number of hairs on my big toe. Interesting to look at, thought i hated toe hairs, turns out I'm rather fond of them.
- Krista and I were given a very cheesy novel by an American women (Catherine Cooksonesque) and are reading it out loud to each other. We got reprimanded on the bus the other day by a Zambian in desperate need of some sleep. I realized with some remorse and plenty of guilty giggling that we'd been reading out loud for hours. There are few things more irritating than a woman's voice reading in the background - something extra nasally happens to a voice like that, particularly when you're reading quickly because you're only interested in the story and rather embarrassed by the writing. I thought of you Nicholas and how much you hate women reading out loud, also of getting yelled at on a train in Italy for the same thing (Jonathan and Erin, do you remember?)
- My hair looks like a picture i once saw of Tristan Penny. 12 year old Tristan with side parted, carefully brushed hair. My hair isn't carefully brushed, just nasty, but somehow I seem to have arrived at the same effect. I'm hoping this too will pass for me, as it did for Tristan.
- Am not homesick anymore, just roaming around Africa and enjoying myself. Knowing kind of what will come but not lots of details about how exactly which is nice because it leaves room for everything but makes sure something is there.
- learned a new thing about God, or about believing in God. That perhaps it is okay to ask him for mercy, to ask him to heal us. I always thought it was wrong to ask because God could do whatever he wanted and there were more important things going on than just our bodies. I thought since God doesn't seem to heal very often He must not be very interested in it. But perhaps it is okay to ask, to hope that while there is yet a chance for mercy God will grant it. A friend here was telling me about how I didn't ask the Spirit to work enough, using a story of David that I'd always used to explain why I didn't ever expect healing to show me that it was important to hope for healing. David prayed and prayed while his baby was ill for God to be merciful, to turn back from punishing David for his sin and save the child. God didn't but David didn't regret praying. While there is yet a chance I will pray he said. After the chance was gone, after the child died, he stopped asking and continued on. So, from now on, if you are sick i will pray for you to be well and i will pray with a clear conscience. Or at least I want to anyway.
Sandy Bryant: Thank you. You are so good at loving from far away. I appreciate you.
Grandma King: thank you for the messages I'm amazed everytime I get one! You are a brave voyager on this internet.
Georgie May: I gave the necklace you made me to a good friend here because she loved it so much. Your handiwork was much appreciated by the Zambians so keep up the good work... I told her about you before I left it with her so you're famous now!
Thank you for the Birthday wishes and for remembering about me. I recovered from my irritations and spent the majority of our last times with the family being able to appreciate them. I miss them and am glad to be able to say that. I think I became friends with them.
Thank you also to everyone who leaves us comments. I rarely do because it feels strange so I appreciate everyone who braves this wierd blog thing to make a remark. Not sure I can properly convey how it matters exactly so just trust me to know it does.
With love,
Gillian
*Krista broke her toe. She's really brave. we were lost and trying to get over a little branch of the river and she slipped into it. The Zambezi river, brown, tumultuous, big falls, death river. All i heard her say after the fall was, "this way won't work" so i decided to wander off looking for a better way. I remember thinking, probably isn't smart to wander around on these big rocks in the middle of the jungle. maybe those nasty-bummed baboons will eat me. After getting attacked by a thorn bush which left big long needle snares in my arm i decided to turn back. No sign of Peter and Krista so I felt a little sad and decided to return to see if they'd found their way across after all. Turns out it didn't turn out to be a way across, turns out Krista broke her toe and was hobbling back the way we'd come, turns out I walked out on krista saying she'd broken her toe. Luckily i had some tylenol in my wallet thing, wet tylenol, completely drenched from the waterfall spray so Krista didn't need to drink water with it. Pre-soaked pills. The little gaffer's doing fairly well now, just a lot of pain, swelling and bruising to attest to the broken toe's trek over Frank Slide, across the Baboon wars, through the woods, up the gorge on rough hewn giant stairs, around a rich-people hotel maze interspersed with embarrassingly awful 'modern-art sculpture' and back home. Special wishes can be sent via blog... our injured one might feel a little sad tomorrow treking around with her swollen friend.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Big Day.
Gil's birthday today... ridiculous that it's actually February 13th... Feels more like July. We're beginning to be quite sun-kissed... infact, it's proving difficult to go outside without quickly turning pink. (Don't worry, Mom, we brought sunscreen.) I think we must have been deathly ill when we first got here -seeing as we managed to stay whiter than we've ever been at home until just recently. Oh dear.
French toast was wonderous, it smelled like home. Can't wait until we make rice pudding tonight. I love treats.
We didn't set our alarm this morning, I managed to sleep all the way until 7:40, quite incredible.
Mwila joined us on our bed this morning, for early morning cheers and giggles.
Today is one month since our arrival.
And now for a bunch of personal notes.
Mom, tomorrow is Valentine's Day and I have no cinnamon hearts! :( Very sad.
Lisa, you're pretty lucky that you sent that wimpy e-mail before you left -I was about to disown you as my sister. I'm not writing until you write me back first. LoveBabyLove -Have a great trip.
Dad, if you don't want to post your "personal messages" on here you can still e-mail me. How did your interview go? When do you find out?
Grandma, glad you're enjoying the snow, but I most definately love being very far away from it. By the way, do you know of any jobs in Revelstoke that would pay me an okay wage for the month of June? Is that even possible? Like painting someone's house, landscaping, nannying, anything? It might be fun to be in the mountains for a bit, I don't know what my plans are.
Pat, good to hear from you... how's writing? and working out? and have you planned for your trip with Lise?
Kristina and Mikey: Thanks for the e-mails, both amazing in their entirely different ways. A couple days ago I saw a guy wearing a purple shirt and a red toque, veryverynice. Glad you're writing again. Have fun in Mexico. Who's Nathan in an "open relationship" with? How's "Dyl"? What else is new? Will one of you please ask Matthew Cairns to e-mail me so I can have his e-mail address and reply to his facebook message?
Alanna: I didn't forget your birthday, I wanted to send off a "Have a great one" but alas, I don't know your e-mail address, and facebook doesn't work. I hope it was lovely. You are lovely. Fill me in, dear.
Ian: Your birthday is soon and I was hoping to e-mail you a quick one, but it seems you've deleted your address? Hopefully you're still reading blogs. I didn't catch your warning before Sunday...
(Other February birthdays, I'm remembering you as well. Consider this your personal note.)
Jonathan: Thanks for the "farewell e-mail". It was kind of you to send us off. I'm learning about God's movement. And as for your student, I'm volunteering Lise, she'll be in Columbia for a couple weeks now, but you can message her... And as for me, when I get back to Canada I'm down.
House: Where are you? Where? Did you move into the upstairs bedroom yet? Don't be shy. Move out our stuff and gogogo! I want a spinach smoothie.
Candice: Sooooo soon! Wow.
Others who've e-mailed me, ThankyouThankyouThankyou. I treasure you.
I know I'm forgetting something "important", but I must sign off.
I'm learning to sing in Bemba.
Gil and I bought a sweater. It's pink.
I love you.
French toast was wonderous, it smelled like home. Can't wait until we make rice pudding tonight. I love treats.
We didn't set our alarm this morning, I managed to sleep all the way until 7:40, quite incredible.
Mwila joined us on our bed this morning, for early morning cheers and giggles.
Today is one month since our arrival.
And now for a bunch of personal notes.
Mom, tomorrow is Valentine's Day and I have no cinnamon hearts! :( Very sad.
Lisa, you're pretty lucky that you sent that wimpy e-mail before you left -I was about to disown you as my sister. I'm not writing until you write me back first. LoveBabyLove -Have a great trip.
Dad, if you don't want to post your "personal messages" on here you can still e-mail me. How did your interview go? When do you find out?
Grandma, glad you're enjoying the snow, but I most definately love being very far away from it. By the way, do you know of any jobs in Revelstoke that would pay me an okay wage for the month of June? Is that even possible? Like painting someone's house, landscaping, nannying, anything? It might be fun to be in the mountains for a bit, I don't know what my plans are.
Pat, good to hear from you... how's writing? and working out? and have you planned for your trip with Lise?
Kristina and Mikey: Thanks for the e-mails, both amazing in their entirely different ways. A couple days ago I saw a guy wearing a purple shirt and a red toque, veryverynice. Glad you're writing again. Have fun in Mexico. Who's Nathan in an "open relationship" with? How's "Dyl"? What else is new? Will one of you please ask Matthew Cairns to e-mail me so I can have his e-mail address and reply to his facebook message?
Alanna: I didn't forget your birthday, I wanted to send off a "Have a great one" but alas, I don't know your e-mail address, and facebook doesn't work. I hope it was lovely. You are lovely. Fill me in, dear.
Ian: Your birthday is soon and I was hoping to e-mail you a quick one, but it seems you've deleted your address? Hopefully you're still reading blogs. I didn't catch your warning before Sunday...
(Other February birthdays, I'm remembering you as well. Consider this your personal note.)
Jonathan: Thanks for the "farewell e-mail". It was kind of you to send us off. I'm learning about God's movement. And as for your student, I'm volunteering Lise, she'll be in Columbia for a couple weeks now, but you can message her... And as for me, when I get back to Canada I'm down.
House: Where are you? Where? Did you move into the upstairs bedroom yet? Don't be shy. Move out our stuff and gogogo! I want a spinach smoothie.
Candice: Sooooo soon! Wow.
Others who've e-mailed me, ThankyouThankyouThankyou. I treasure you.
I know I'm forgetting something "important", but I must sign off.
I'm learning to sing in Bemba.
Gil and I bought a sweater. It's pink.
I love you.
Guzzy-bear
Walking along the lane yesterday, on our way to buy eggs, Ella says to me "Gill, I like the way you walk. As though someone was forcing you. Saying, 'come gill, come.'" Then she imitated me, swinging her arms.. and other parts. I think I was grumpy. I couldn't tell if she was mocking me or otherwise but I knew I didn't like it. I wanted to yell - 'well, if you didn't walk so damn slow!'
But I didn't, seeing as we aren't supposed to do what we want to do most of the time. I think i laughed, because it might have been funny. But really I was mad/irritated/all the rest, why does everyone walk so slowly? I can't help but waggle my body side to side, seeing as it can't go forward very quickly it needs somewhere else to go.
Birthday french toast this morning. Presided over by 3 or 4 extra curly heads peering into the pan. Syrup of our own concocting with honey, limes, cinnimon and sugar. I kept repeating that this was not a real thing that we ate at home - just an attempt to make something like syrup. Everyone was quite interested in the details none-the-less. It was lovely, the french toast I mean. The syrup, a little strange, but full of home.
We are leaving soon, a week and a half and I will miss this family very much. In light of the leaving I find myself quite sentimental, though I wish I could be sentimental enough to keep from getting irritable. It is so nasty to be irritable... That would be something to pray for if you are so inclined. Irritable Gillian. I want very much to have enough spirit inside me to carry me well through this last bit with these people I appreciate so much.
Seeing as I gorged last time I shall leave this for now. We are well-loved here and well cared for. Garlic is given to us at slightest sign of sickness, water encouraged.
Love to you all. I think about home a little too much but I am always glad when I do.
Gillian
But I didn't, seeing as we aren't supposed to do what we want to do most of the time. I think i laughed, because it might have been funny. But really I was mad/irritated/all the rest, why does everyone walk so slowly? I can't help but waggle my body side to side, seeing as it can't go forward very quickly it needs somewhere else to go.
Birthday french toast this morning. Presided over by 3 or 4 extra curly heads peering into the pan. Syrup of our own concocting with honey, limes, cinnimon and sugar. I kept repeating that this was not a real thing that we ate at home - just an attempt to make something like syrup. Everyone was quite interested in the details none-the-less. It was lovely, the french toast I mean. The syrup, a little strange, but full of home.
We are leaving soon, a week and a half and I will miss this family very much. In light of the leaving I find myself quite sentimental, though I wish I could be sentimental enough to keep from getting irritable. It is so nasty to be irritable... That would be something to pray for if you are so inclined. Irritable Gillian. I want very much to have enough spirit inside me to carry me well through this last bit with these people I appreciate so much.
Seeing as I gorged last time I shall leave this for now. We are well-loved here and well cared for. Garlic is given to us at slightest sign of sickness, water encouraged.
Love to you all. I think about home a little too much but I am always glad when I do.
Gillian
Sunday, February 10, 2008
another week already?
well, as one more week passes, so does the time since my last post. I suppose i should resign myself to this duty of privileging you; my snow and frigid temperature bound friends to these wondrous and well written tales of Africa. When I think of all you home-grown Albertans wandering around in your parkas and snowshoes making the big bucks in our ever bustling economy, it warms my heart to step out onto my sunset-facing, riverview, warm african patio* in my shorts, sandals, and t-shirt to take in the last rays of sushine as the spherical radiating orb makes its near-equatorial descent so much closer to my latitude than to yours. *sigh* If only you were here then you could experience it for yourself. But wait my friends, don't delete the bookmark to this blog just yet, perhaps I still have some encouraging and interesting information for you that is less likely to make you want to spit icicles on your computer screen than these previous lines.**
Where should I begin.. in breaking with tradition, I shall start with the beginning of the week.***
Monday - rain all day, very miserable, I worked mostly inside but I had to walk around often to fetch various tools that my zambian friends and I needed to work on grouting the tiling work that we had done in previous weeks.
Tuesday - still raining. We move to tiling the bathroom. Rate of progress has increased significantly since our first attempt, which is an encouragement to all.
Wednesday - little rain, but i am eager to return to finishing the foundation of the duplex. Gordon is gone to Lusaka, and His #2 Justin thinks it is too wet to continue with cement work. we finish tiling the bathroom, and lower the toilet which has inexplicable initially been installed 3 inches too high and on a small mound of concrete (very ugly). We finish, except for the grout-work - as we have run out of grout - and are pleased with the esthetic improvement of tiling over the concrete floor with raised toilet.
Thursday - First dry morning in a while and Justin is willing to let us start foundation work again. the bricklayers work on that, under my distant supervision, as i make futher tractor trips to fetch sand before the location becomes unaccessible.
Friday - Another dry morning so we continue with the foundation and sand work. A non-marrieds movie-night (even missionaries can party down) and we watch Sahara on the projector while drinking A&W rootbeer and munching popcorn.
Saturday - Halfday. Still no rain and we almost finish the foundation along with a few trips of sand. on monday we will be ready to begin backfill and then onto pouring the floor! Movie-night is continued as we watch the shocking surprise conclusion of Sahara: Matthew McConaughey against all odds saves the world from nuclear waste-poisoned water and ends up with the girl (elegantly played by our favorite female actress with a heavy spanish accent - Salma Hayek)
Sunday - Communion service at the assembly with the usual non-english hymns and usual non-english sermon. Actually, this sunnday the speaker threw in just enough occasional english phrases to keep me from reading an entirely different section of the bible from the one being preached on.**** As usual a delicious lunch followed, and I went for a run this afternoon and played a little soccer with some kids*****, followed by a dip in the pool. Bible study was tonight and we had a lovely message on not being frustrated when building goes very slowly, because God has it in his hands - from the book of zeccariah on the subject of zerubabel.
*Actually, I don't have a sunset-facing, riverview patio, but my neighbours do, and I'm sure they'd let me use it any time they wanted. In actuality, I have a sunset-facing, riverview gazebo, but for the purposes of illustration I thought that a patio would be better.
**I would like to apologize if i have offended anyone with the juxtaposition of your snowed-in, edmontonian, wind-chilling, hell-frozen-over type conditions with my idylic african setting.
***if this is becoming confusing for you, remember, you can just read from the outside in.
****I find the book of Proverbs always suffices for a practical and spiritual alternative to suffering through whatever unintelligible ramblings a preacher may be bring forth.
*****an added note, on most late afternoons i have been running into town, meeting the natives, playing soccer, and otherwise making the most of my rural Zambian experience. Also, after the zambian workers knock-off at their usual time of 2:30 I have been designing and starting to build trusses. if anyone could send me a quick 5000 or so nails for gussets, it would be much appreciated.******
******Just send package to Chitoloki, Zambia, Africa
*******this isn't a reference to anything written in this post, but i just wanted to add that I really want to keep this comments competition going. Few of you may realize, but I actually enjoy competition for its own sake, and don't really care as much about winning as you might think. therefore, I'm encouraging you all to post at least 2 times on Gill and Krista's posts for every one comment on mine.********
********I'm secretly betting all my money on them to win, through a distant cousin of mine, and that way when they come out ahead, we all win! so long, and thanks for all the fish!
Peter out.
Where should I begin.. in breaking with tradition, I shall start with the beginning of the week.***
Monday - rain all day, very miserable, I worked mostly inside but I had to walk around often to fetch various tools that my zambian friends and I needed to work on grouting the tiling work that we had done in previous weeks.
Tuesday - still raining. We move to tiling the bathroom. Rate of progress has increased significantly since our first attempt, which is an encouragement to all.
Wednesday - little rain, but i am eager to return to finishing the foundation of the duplex. Gordon is gone to Lusaka, and His #2 Justin thinks it is too wet to continue with cement work. we finish tiling the bathroom, and lower the toilet which has inexplicable initially been installed 3 inches too high and on a small mound of concrete (very ugly). We finish, except for the grout-work - as we have run out of grout - and are pleased with the esthetic improvement of tiling over the concrete floor with raised toilet.
Thursday - First dry morning in a while and Justin is willing to let us start foundation work again. the bricklayers work on that, under my distant supervision, as i make futher tractor trips to fetch sand before the location becomes unaccessible.
Friday - Another dry morning so we continue with the foundation and sand work. A non-marrieds movie-night (even missionaries can party down) and we watch Sahara on the projector while drinking A&W rootbeer and munching popcorn.
Saturday - Halfday. Still no rain and we almost finish the foundation along with a few trips of sand. on monday we will be ready to begin backfill and then onto pouring the floor! Movie-night is continued as we watch the shocking surprise conclusion of Sahara: Matthew McConaughey against all odds saves the world from nuclear waste-poisoned water and ends up with the girl (elegantly played by our favorite female actress with a heavy spanish accent - Salma Hayek)
Sunday - Communion service at the assembly with the usual non-english hymns and usual non-english sermon. Actually, this sunnday the speaker threw in just enough occasional english phrases to keep me from reading an entirely different section of the bible from the one being preached on.**** As usual a delicious lunch followed, and I went for a run this afternoon and played a little soccer with some kids*****, followed by a dip in the pool. Bible study was tonight and we had a lovely message on not being frustrated when building goes very slowly, because God has it in his hands - from the book of zeccariah on the subject of zerubabel.
*Actually, I don't have a sunset-facing, riverview patio, but my neighbours do, and I'm sure they'd let me use it any time they wanted. In actuality, I have a sunset-facing, riverview gazebo, but for the purposes of illustration I thought that a patio would be better.
**I would like to apologize if i have offended anyone with the juxtaposition of your snowed-in, edmontonian, wind-chilling, hell-frozen-over type conditions with my idylic african setting.
***if this is becoming confusing for you, remember, you can just read from the outside in.
****I find the book of Proverbs always suffices for a practical and spiritual alternative to suffering through whatever unintelligible ramblings a preacher may be bring forth.
*****an added note, on most late afternoons i have been running into town, meeting the natives, playing soccer, and otherwise making the most of my rural Zambian experience. Also, after the zambian workers knock-off at their usual time of 2:30 I have been designing and starting to build trusses. if anyone could send me a quick 5000 or so nails for gussets, it would be much appreciated.******
******Just send package to Chitoloki, Zambia, Africa
*******this isn't a reference to anything written in this post, but i just wanted to add that I really want to keep this comments competition going. Few of you may realize, but I actually enjoy competition for its own sake, and don't really care as much about winning as you might think. therefore, I'm encouraging you all to post at least 2 times on Gill and Krista's posts for every one comment on mine.********
********I'm secretly betting all my money on them to win, through a distant cousin of mine, and that way when they come out ahead, we all win! so long, and thanks for all the fish!
Peter out.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
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
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
Continuing to look hideous...
Krista and I have (almost) matching rain jackets. Almost matching shorts and tops, matching mud splatters and matching flustered expressions. I have never felt so ugly nor been so praised for my beauty. I brought my painting shirt by accident, not to mention hardly anything matches. Which is sad when you only have 3 shirts and 2 pants. I think i was crazy when I packed. And why would a person not bring anything to wash their face with properly? What made me think I would like pimples any more in Zambia than in Edmonton?
Now,please remember that Peter and I are completely opposite. Where he asks for anything to beat our numbers nonsense makes me sad.. And Peter! When are you coming? Things are ah, how can i put it? "heating up" at home and it would be nice to know our time-line. By the way, you are hilarious and I'm very much looking forward to seeing you. Krista and I will be matching (she is my daughter, younger sister, twin) and I assume you will be in the tilly hat?) Hoping the tractor improves....
Yesterday my flip-flop broke. Torrential rains upon leaving the bus (with the inevitable head bump, awkward squeezing through Zambians with babies, baskets of salt fish, spikey umbrellas) made for a massive mudslide on our way home. We aren't so good at walking in the mud as the flip-flops do a good job of flopping the mud back onto our backsides, not to mention sticking in the mud while our legs continue. For some reason no one else here seems to have trouble. Just us. Anyway, flip-flop broke leaving me with no shoe and a demented hobble. Rains continue all around us and my giggling left me with almost no barrier to raining inside my trousers as I had to go to the bathroom fairly terribly. Zambian women passing by 'sorry, sorry' as she bemoans my plight. Zambian man the most enraged i've yet seen as my hystarical giggling has caused me to unknowingly flounder back and forth into his path.
We got home. Moses, one of the nephews staying was horrified with our state. Somehow we manage to be in a shambles most of the time. I need to spend more time cleaning my shoes in order to fit in.
This is going to be long. Perhaps you'd like to play 'choose your own adventure' and skip to parts you'd like. That way I'll remember i'm not inflicting this on anyone due to the remarkable thing known as readers freedom.
I have occasionally bemoned the absense of listeners freedom in my life currently. The family watches tv lots, combined with listening to music on the dvd player, added to baby crying and boys shouting and laughing. But that is mostly funny. The worst part, and one I'm still working on dealing with, is listening to people (oh, and by people I mean men..) say things I disagree with and find rude, intolerant and damaging without having the freedom to deal with the situation like I would at home. Coming from a completly different background I realize my ideas don't necessarily fit here and won't always be the best thing. It is hard when hearing things that make me squirm, to keep from fighting back and trying to convince, to 'correct.' I am disgusted with this in myself, this impulse to make everyone like me. But of course, since I think I'm right or more fair I want to win the day. (Dad, perhaps you will get this due to our 'discussions'!). An older man yesterday went on and on about this and that, how women's subservience doesn't denote inequality but rather is a way of showing respect and making the world work smoothly, that Americans gave more money, and were thus more awesome, than the british, that Canadians didn't care about their inlaws, on and on. Most things I suppose one could gently disagree with but I felt bound by my female, whiteness and didn't want to be contrary. I had to leave the room with my face blazing. What an awful man I thought.
But - point. To learn about tolerating intolerance. How to do this is a graceful way? For me this is difficult because I can become so enraged so quickly but anything I think is unfair or unkind and thus, in the process become exactly what I hate so much. So I am learning to wait on my reactions and to consider later if it is something worth following up. The father of the family pointed out the importance of 'saving face' for others and being careful never to show anyone wrong in front of their children. He said, you should correct afterwards in order to preserve the dignity of those involved. I thought that was different than home. I thought that perhaps we sometimes get too excited about proving other people wrong.
Addition to the Faith comment from before:
I still hold that God has given Zambia the gift of Faith and that it is a merciful and incredibly intelligent gift to give here. But, to add to this, we heard from a gentleman the other day, how much they are searching for depth to be added to faith. How many people are christians but need to think more and be impacted by their faith. For one of the first times Krista and I felt we had something to contribute.
Exciting things:
+ Got to tell someone that Mormons didn't worship "Mammon, the God of Money" but were actually M.O.R.M.O.N.S's. Very interesting. I'm not sure he believed me, or rather I think he liked his opinion more. If one can have an opinion about those kinds of things.
My mom called me!
Favorite baby has changed her life. When we came she sat on the floor and stared, mostly at food if it was passing around. She only laughed late afternoon, and this only under 5 minutes dedicated tickling. Now, favorite baby is hystrical for most of the day, large eyes gleaming and wierd noises trickling out of her. (Speaking of trickling, found some poo dropping out of her nappy on to the floor this morning. Almost barfed.) She will reach up her hands now to walk around. This is a miracle I believe - when we came she wouldn't really interact. So I'm happy. Whenever i feel bored wtih the babies I think about her and am glad to be around.
Excited about the Mustard Seed news! Looking forward to coming home because I think I've got some things to do in Edmonton and I'm glad the Mustard Seed is there.
I 'pack plates' every night before bed and am glad to be able to do something so normal and nice.
Watched one of the boys kill chickens with a bread knife. Felt awful about it but thought it was important to watch seeing as I'd been eating it. Don't know what I think but I do know that there is a distinction here between Edmotnon and Lusaka. Here they kill chickens behind the house with a bread knife and a 12 year-old helping you hold the body. They bury the blood, just there, behind the house. then we eat the intestines.
"I love God" in sparkly letters on bus dashboards
Oh - life is changing I think. Saw a compound flooded with Children wading out to get water. Young child mother, knee-deep in water hanging the washing on the line. 5 percent of houses in the compound have electricity. There are children everywhere. I think my life is meant to be different than it is currently, or something. And so I'm excited to come home because i'm coming to belive here that God works and that if he calls you to something, convicts you of something, it matters and you are meant to GO. So, we'll see. Church messages are about God equipping you, about him giving vision and the rest coming. They don't have much stuff here so they rely so strongly on trusting God with stuff and just working to carry on vision. I think I"ve been culpable of having vision and doing nothing with it because I'm afraid and because I doubt myself and God in me. So. Zambia is a good place to be learning this, good place to be if God wants to stick something in my side.
Notes for the loves:
House! I miss you guys. Think of you fairly often, particularly when the boys here want to come to Canada and ask if any of my roommates would make suitable girlfriends. Am having a lovely time describing you all. Jamie, I say you float when you walk... hope that's okay:) I'm excited to return in the spring and dig the garden and hear your stories and eat bananas and peanut butter. Peanut butter is such a comfort to us both here and it often reminds me of home. What are you guys doing? How are you? Are you all still there? Of course you are, only been 3 weeks but it feels like way longer. Good faith with Remedy Kaiser...
Ruthey, you're nice and I'm so glad for you. The asian kids will be just your size..
Booty: Think of you. We say goodnight sometimes though I don't think you hear. Got 3 birds hung on a string, think it is part of a baby-mobile and are going to bring it home. Me, you and Krista. Krista is the brown one and I'lll leave it to you to decide if you're the blue or orange one. For once I have no opinion.
Candice: Will be so good to see you. Hope you are well. We think of the wedding often and what a nice thing it will be to come home to. Hope you are well...
Love to everyone, as always. My hands hurt. Sorry that this kind of sucked, i should try more regularly so they have more shape, less blather.
Gillian
Now,please remember that Peter and I are completely opposite. Where he asks for anything to beat our numbers nonsense makes me sad.. And Peter! When are you coming? Things are ah, how can i put it? "heating up" at home and it would be nice to know our time-line. By the way, you are hilarious and I'm very much looking forward to seeing you. Krista and I will be matching (she is my daughter, younger sister, twin) and I assume you will be in the tilly hat?) Hoping the tractor improves....
Yesterday my flip-flop broke. Torrential rains upon leaving the bus (with the inevitable head bump, awkward squeezing through Zambians with babies, baskets of salt fish, spikey umbrellas) made for a massive mudslide on our way home. We aren't so good at walking in the mud as the flip-flops do a good job of flopping the mud back onto our backsides, not to mention sticking in the mud while our legs continue. For some reason no one else here seems to have trouble. Just us. Anyway, flip-flop broke leaving me with no shoe and a demented hobble. Rains continue all around us and my giggling left me with almost no barrier to raining inside my trousers as I had to go to the bathroom fairly terribly. Zambian women passing by 'sorry, sorry' as she bemoans my plight. Zambian man the most enraged i've yet seen as my hystarical giggling has caused me to unknowingly flounder back and forth into his path.
We got home. Moses, one of the nephews staying was horrified with our state. Somehow we manage to be in a shambles most of the time. I need to spend more time cleaning my shoes in order to fit in.
This is going to be long. Perhaps you'd like to play 'choose your own adventure' and skip to parts you'd like. That way I'll remember i'm not inflicting this on anyone due to the remarkable thing known as readers freedom.
I have occasionally bemoned the absense of listeners freedom in my life currently. The family watches tv lots, combined with listening to music on the dvd player, added to baby crying and boys shouting and laughing. But that is mostly funny. The worst part, and one I'm still working on dealing with, is listening to people (oh, and by people I mean men..) say things I disagree with and find rude, intolerant and damaging without having the freedom to deal with the situation like I would at home. Coming from a completly different background I realize my ideas don't necessarily fit here and won't always be the best thing. It is hard when hearing things that make me squirm, to keep from fighting back and trying to convince, to 'correct.' I am disgusted with this in myself, this impulse to make everyone like me. But of course, since I think I'm right or more fair I want to win the day. (Dad, perhaps you will get this due to our 'discussions'!). An older man yesterday went on and on about this and that, how women's subservience doesn't denote inequality but rather is a way of showing respect and making the world work smoothly, that Americans gave more money, and were thus more awesome, than the british, that Canadians didn't care about their inlaws, on and on. Most things I suppose one could gently disagree with but I felt bound by my female, whiteness and didn't want to be contrary. I had to leave the room with my face blazing. What an awful man I thought.
But - point. To learn about tolerating intolerance. How to do this is a graceful way? For me this is difficult because I can become so enraged so quickly but anything I think is unfair or unkind and thus, in the process become exactly what I hate so much. So I am learning to wait on my reactions and to consider later if it is something worth following up. The father of the family pointed out the importance of 'saving face' for others and being careful never to show anyone wrong in front of their children. He said, you should correct afterwards in order to preserve the dignity of those involved. I thought that was different than home. I thought that perhaps we sometimes get too excited about proving other people wrong.
Addition to the Faith comment from before:
I still hold that God has given Zambia the gift of Faith and that it is a merciful and incredibly intelligent gift to give here. But, to add to this, we heard from a gentleman the other day, how much they are searching for depth to be added to faith. How many people are christians but need to think more and be impacted by their faith. For one of the first times Krista and I felt we had something to contribute.
Exciting things:
+ Got to tell someone that Mormons didn't worship "Mammon, the God of Money" but were actually M.O.R.M.O.N.S's. Very interesting. I'm not sure he believed me, or rather I think he liked his opinion more. If one can have an opinion about those kinds of things.
My mom called me!
Favorite baby has changed her life. When we came she sat on the floor and stared, mostly at food if it was passing around. She only laughed late afternoon, and this only under 5 minutes dedicated tickling. Now, favorite baby is hystrical for most of the day, large eyes gleaming and wierd noises trickling out of her. (Speaking of trickling, found some poo dropping out of her nappy on to the floor this morning. Almost barfed.) She will reach up her hands now to walk around. This is a miracle I believe - when we came she wouldn't really interact. So I'm happy. Whenever i feel bored wtih the babies I think about her and am glad to be around.
Excited about the Mustard Seed news! Looking forward to coming home because I think I've got some things to do in Edmonton and I'm glad the Mustard Seed is there.
I 'pack plates' every night before bed and am glad to be able to do something so normal and nice.
Watched one of the boys kill chickens with a bread knife. Felt awful about it but thought it was important to watch seeing as I'd been eating it. Don't know what I think but I do know that there is a distinction here between Edmotnon and Lusaka. Here they kill chickens behind the house with a bread knife and a 12 year-old helping you hold the body. They bury the blood, just there, behind the house. then we eat the intestines.
"I love God" in sparkly letters on bus dashboards
Oh - life is changing I think. Saw a compound flooded with Children wading out to get water. Young child mother, knee-deep in water hanging the washing on the line. 5 percent of houses in the compound have electricity. There are children everywhere. I think my life is meant to be different than it is currently, or something. And so I'm excited to come home because i'm coming to belive here that God works and that if he calls you to something, convicts you of something, it matters and you are meant to GO. So, we'll see. Church messages are about God equipping you, about him giving vision and the rest coming. They don't have much stuff here so they rely so strongly on trusting God with stuff and just working to carry on vision. I think I"ve been culpable of having vision and doing nothing with it because I'm afraid and because I doubt myself and God in me. So. Zambia is a good place to be learning this, good place to be if God wants to stick something in my side.
Notes for the loves:
House! I miss you guys. Think of you fairly often, particularly when the boys here want to come to Canada and ask if any of my roommates would make suitable girlfriends. Am having a lovely time describing you all. Jamie, I say you float when you walk... hope that's okay:) I'm excited to return in the spring and dig the garden and hear your stories and eat bananas and peanut butter. Peanut butter is such a comfort to us both here and it often reminds me of home. What are you guys doing? How are you? Are you all still there? Of course you are, only been 3 weeks but it feels like way longer. Good faith with Remedy Kaiser...
Ruthey, you're nice and I'm so glad for you. The asian kids will be just your size..
Booty: Think of you. We say goodnight sometimes though I don't think you hear. Got 3 birds hung on a string, think it is part of a baby-mobile and are going to bring it home. Me, you and Krista. Krista is the brown one and I'lll leave it to you to decide if you're the blue or orange one. For once I have no opinion.
Candice: Will be so good to see you. Hope you are well. We think of the wedding often and what a nice thing it will be to come home to. Hope you are well...
Love to everyone, as always. My hands hurt. Sorry that this kind of sucked, i should try more regularly so they have more shape, less blather.
Gillian
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Two weeks down.
Well, I've been at the mission station at Chitokoloki for two weeks now so I guess that means it's time for an update. Let's start on today and work backwards. Today was saturday, which is kind of a half-day here. We finished tiling the guesthouse we've been working on today, and all we have left to do is grout on monday. there's also the bathroom to do, but the toilet got put in 3" too high, and they're waiting to decide what to do about that. the interesting thing is that we're preparing the house for a girl that's coming from ontario, but she already arrived last week. oh well, that seems to be the way africa is. the house should be ready for her to move into sometime next week. After work I went for a walk to the shops and got caught in the rain, so i ended up hanging out with Zambians for several hours. The young people complain that there aren't enough jobs here in the country, and many seem to have ambitions of moving to the big city of Lusaka to make their lives. I played with a bunch of shopkeepers children who wanted to practise their english. They have several phrases memorized that they resort to when they're stuck, but my favorite was one that I was asked several times after we had learned each others names, "Mr. Peter, what is your name?" Yesterday was friday, and Matt the bricklayer departed for his wife and home in jolly old england. Gordon got nervous about how work would go with Matt gone, so he suspended all work on the new duplex until further notice. Since my tractor was out of commision and work had halted on the new duplex, I returned to tiling the guesthouse with Ron and two new team-members. Work was slow since we had to find all the tools again and get back into our groove, but I learned how to use the tile cutting machine and had a lot of fun with that. The day before that was thursday. It was Matt's last day of working, so everyone was trying to ram-jam as much as possible on the new building before he left. I hauled a bunch of sand and bricks with my team, but at the very end of the day I ran over a steel dealie hidden in the grass and blew a tractor tire. oh no, what will i do with my days now? only what i've just written earlier in this very post will say. Since it was Matt's last day we watched Fargo together for a little roomate last-minute bonding time. the day before that was wednesday. my memory fades with time, but i'm sure i spent it ram-jamming sand and bricks with my team and tractor. tuesday preceded wednesday as did more of tractor work. at this point i'm sure i've overlapped with my last post, and if you want to keep reading you can just continue down the page as time continues to flow backwards as the elevation of lines on your computer screen decreases. thank-you for your comments help and let's all keep this competition alive. remember, only you can post several comments right now. and until next time:
Peter out.
Peter out.
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