Recap Days 2-4

Day 2- Getting up was very hard. Feels like a hangover times ten. Woke up in the middle of the night with hives on my knees, and I did some Access and BodyTalk. (Already Africa is bringing stuff to the surface!) Itching stopped and I was able to resume sleeping. Woke up at dawn to the birds singing away, all their chirping overlapping in a chaotic melody with no pauses or decrescendos . Similar to the many voices and rhythms of Africa that all blend together in an incredible chorus of sound and volume that pierces your heart. Packed, ate breakfast and went straight to the airport to board a six seater plane for the village of Macha. Had to quickly overcome my fear of small planes. I realized I had succeeded, when we landed on the bumpy dirt runway in one piece and I thought, "that was kind of fun". Rode in the back of a truck from the airstrip to the village and had coffee and cookies with the Vanstams, a Dutch family that lives and works here. Kevin took me on a hot walk thru the village to where Mrs. Ester lives to arrange a place to stay, but her place was full. Try to picture a series of mud huts, an outdoor fire pit cooking area, chickens running around and locals sitting and staring under the shade. It was so hot!!! And I was wearing jeans, hiking boots and a backpack, biting my tongue, refusing to complain my first day. Then the day took a more unusual turn as we boarded an old bus to ride out to a school an hour away named Bruce Miller. The children started singing the moment the bus got moving. Everything from The Wheels on the Bus go Round and Round, and songs in their native Tonga, to Go Tell it on the Mountain. Then the bus broke down, to which I thought, "how splendid and authentically Africa" and I proceeded to teach a ballet class on the side of the dirt road while the bus driver tracked down some soap to repair the bus. (now I really know I understand absolutely nothing about machinery). The fumes from the bus were horrible and we were all sitting in the bus while they fixed it until the children started getting out of the bus to use the bathroom. I could tell the birthday girl Merel (pronounced like my sister's name, oddly enough) was starting to worry we wouldn't make it to the party, so I distracted them with ballet class for a good half an hour. They were really good! Especially this orphan named Christopher, who's 12, but still very small. He's in school now, but did nothing but herd a few donkeys for the last 7 years when the school wouldn't admit him because he was "unteachable". It really was fun. There were 15 African children and one Dutch girl and about 11 adults including Kevin and I. The bus roared to life and the children screamed with excitement and paraded back to the bus. The ride was so bumpy and similar to a ride at 6 Flags, but with no seat belts. Bruce Miller was like a dream. GRASS! (I simply LOVE grass now), sweets, coffee, a cool breeze, fireworks and games. The children went on horse rides and played outside and threw beanbags at cabbages sitting on top of 4 foot posts. It was a school fundraiser, I discovered, run by South Africans. We got home very late and found a place for me to stay at a building called the Arc. The first night was very difficult despite the fun we had at Bruce Miller. I felt strange, and hot, and uncomfortable, and a little depressed. I was unable to connect with any of the adults, who were mostly doctors that night, and when I briefly mentioned what I did for work, they all looked at me like I had two heads and then never spoke to me again about it, or anything else really. It also felt difficult to come up with things to say. Maybe my mind was just too overwhelmed to come up with thoughts. My room was hot and stuffy, up in a loft and crawling with mosquitoes that night. But it did have Internet! Little did I know the horrible turn things would take the next day.

Day 3- Woke up with three mosquitoes in my net and lots of bites. (Discovered a giant hole at the top of the net later that day) I was hot and couldn't find Kevin and felt miserable and trapped. Saw no way to make anything happen and no way to get my needs met. Had no toilet paper, didn't know where to go to get water or bathe or cool down. The moment I stepped outside my door there were people everywhere watching me, and with no idea where to begin I just sat down on the step and waited. Found Kevin and got dressed. It's so hard to explain what I felt, but I pretty much had a mental breakdown that day and cried to Kevin at breakfast. I told him I couldn't live climbing in and out of a hot loft with no net, no area to wash my face, no access to water, no toilet, no toilet paper and no purpose for my visit, and no friendliness or greeting from anyone. He listened and apologized and told me he would fix things. We went back to his room which was cooler and I took a nap. Woke up too hot. Took a walk to find shade and picked berries from a tree. Tasted a bit like blackberries. Really nice. Every time we stepped outside of the shade into the sun it just hurt. Can't describe the despair I felt. How can I deal with this heat? You can't get anything done in that weather, except sit around and try not to die. Found out the next day, they were having an unusual 104 degree heat wave. Maybe not so unusual, because a week of intense heat comes right before the first rain of the season. Went to Karen's house, a Canadian nurse. She had a wonderful home, and whenever you're in a home, you use the opportunity to fill up all your water bottles and use the bathroom. We left her home to get to the market before it closed. Bumped into a boy named Ryan, who would later introduce us to the traditional healer in the next village. From there we bumped into Lydia, owner of the Arc, who found the key for the downstairs room with a window and a working net. It's amazing how you just run into people here when you need them here. We had dinner at a missionary teacher's house with another set of missionary teachers and Karen the nurse. We had pizza and apple pie and used the opportunity to fill up on water and use the bathroom. They had a nice home too, and I felt so frustrated that it seemed like everyone had a toilet and somewhere to bathe and I was dirty and unshowered and scattered. But the evenings are cool and just wonderful after the hot days. Kevin saved the day with this incredible apple pie he threw together. But once again, I felt like the missionaries, like the doctors, treated me so strange. Like I was less of a person than them; like I was treading on their turf; like they were superior to me. Maybe it was just the difficult transition and my weariness and unshowered, uncentered self. But it didn't feel good what I felt, and the day was absolutely disheartening. That is why I could not write. I was too afraid to admit how defeated I felt. And even though I knew it was only my 3rd day, I felt like I would never be respected or wanted or accepted or appreciated. I felt like a nuisance, and I felt worthless and I wanted to go home. I longed for Air conditioning and joy and ease and clean toilets, and bug free rooms and comfort.

Day 4- Just had the most amazing day. Don't know if I can communicate it well. Woke up and walked to church. Probably a mile away. The church wasn't as hot as I thought it would be. The walls were dark and the wind blew that day through the windows. The music was lovely, as were the people. It was pentecostal and the message was, well, interesting. It was interesting to hear how the message related to things more prominent in their culture. Like death, being an orphan, and solving problems for others. We went home and had coffee and breakfast. Worked on the computer a bit. Again, just trying to stay still, wear as little as possible and go anywhere that's cool. (this changes as the sun moves and warms up different areas of town) I think I accepted at some point during the day that I wasn't going to enjoy myself or accomplish anything I wanted to here, but that I would at least experience true misery (though this is not new to me either) and potentially be a much more grateful person. Also acknowledged that God had sent me here, and maybe if for nothing else, to show me what a naive fool I was and how I needed to go home and get a job at a desk because I was incapable of making anything happen, and no one cared what I had to say, and I was probably wrong about everything anyway, so I'd go home in shame and not call anyone and get a job and stop dreaming about things, because dreams only make you realize how difficult and ungenerous life is and incapable a person you are and how ridiculous it all is. So that's where I was when Ryan and Michael and Nixon came over. It's amazing how plans come together here. The many people that have cell phones make things possible, and the lack of any real concrete plans enable everyone to just kind of show up for whatever's going on. They took Kevin and I to the traditional healer in the next village (this too was a walk in the heat, but more bearable with companionship and the occasional cloud that would cover the sun.) Interviewing the healer was SOOO interesting. I'll write up on it separately. Ryan translated Tonga to English, and who knows if we got any of the information correct, but it felt like learning, and that felt good. Then we went to the market to get stuff for dinner, but it being Sunday, all that was open was a stand with potatoes, dried small fish called Kapenta (eww), eggs, green apples, old bread and dried soy. awesome. We bought some soy and were heading home when we ran into the pastor. Kevin hadn't been able to introduce me that morning because the pastor stayed after church, but the pastor had walked all the way across town in a suit, in the heat! to invite us to dinner at his house. Unreal. Well we never made it to his house because we stopped at two other homes as errands, but the way things work here you end up being invited in and given water or a snack and chatting for awhile. It had been such a hot day that both families were sitting in their screened in outdoor areas with the lights off. It was nice chatting with both couples and I finally felt like I was starting to be myself again. This was nice. Though both families still seemed unusual, and warm, but not warm. Can't figure it out. Since it was too dark and late to cook, Kevin, the pastor and I walked back to our place and made tea to drink outside at a local restaurant that was closed on Sunday. We had a lovely time. But the best part of the day was on the way to make tea, we stopped at a nearby fellowship that was 20 minutes away from finishing. I spoken to the pastor about BodyTalk Access on our earlier walk and he was very excited about it and took a brochure and borrowed the DVD. He said he hated medicine and hated getting injections and drinking bad tasting things. I told him I was so glad to meet him and agreed completely. So then you'll never guess what happened. We walk into the fellowship held at the nursing school and sit down for no more than 10 minutes while people are sharing and singing mostly, these songs that just make you smile and cry at the same time. What voices. I can't describe it. You'd have to experience the magic of it. Then the pastor gets up and personally introduces me to the room!!! Calls me up to tell the 40 of them about BodyTalk!! Well I had just had a glass of wine at the Vanstams house, and nothing to eat besides eggs and beans at noon, and two pieces of bread with cheese with the wine that night at 9pm, so I felt a little light headed, if you know what I mean. But I just walked right up and told them that I had felt called to visit Africa for many years and that I was so excited to be there and that I wanted to share what I do for a living with the people of Zambia in exchange for everything they had already shared with me. Told them there would be a free class that week that they could all attend to learn ways to improve the health of themselves and their families and their villages. Told them that this was how I believe God designed our bodies to be, and designed healing to be. He told us to lay our hands on one another and heal each other, and hinted at our incredible potential as human beings, over and over again. I hope I didn't speak to fast, but I spoke from my heart, and afterwards the pastor endorsed me again by saying to the crowd, "How many of you like going to the hospital? How many of you like injections? You must take this class." (why he said this, I don't know, I hadn't really told him much about BodyTalk at that point in the evening and definitely never mentioned injections!) But afterwards everyone came up and took a brochure from me and one man asked for the class to be scheduled that weekend in the evening so he could attend. So here we go!!! Will figure out the setting for the class tomorrow. I am so thrilled. Cannot describe it. Thank you, thank you, thank you God. Finally, some reason to be here.