Scramble for Africa (Reader's Freedom)

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.