8/9/11 - Day Two of Teaching

Today was day two of teaching and the kids just lit up when they saw that we had kept our promise and came back to them. It was so heartwarming to see them smile and hold our hands. They were just starting to get to know my name and it’s so funny to hear them say it. “Bath Bath!” It’s Beth, but they pronounce it differently. They couldn’t pronounce Bethany right, so I decided that Beth would be good enough. I don’t mind being called either. What was amazing was when I realized how much the locals listen in on our lessons. There were these two girls who had been waving to our group all day, but at the end of the day when I was saying bye to my kids, I heard someone call out, “Beth! Beth!” I spun around to see those two local teenage girls smiling and waving, “Bye-bye!” to me. I laughed, surprised, and waved too. Earlier that day, after we had done our memory verse, I heard a woman by the next door house, chanting, “He is the wayyyy, the truuuth, and za light…no-o-one gets to zee fada except true me.” I thought to myself, wow…that’s our memory verse that this local woman just chanted in English. I wondered if she even knew how to speak English or understand what the words meant. I wanted to go up to her, but my own fear kept me grounded.It's still nice to know our impact here at camp...

Outside the Zambian Airport on 8/6/11

8/8/11 - Day One of Teaching

***This is going to be a quick post because I was falling asleep when I typed it up***

Today was the first day of teaching and by some miracle, I was not teaching alone! I was a co-teacher with a girl named Anna Gentry. She took charge quickly, which I was thankful for, and she seemed to know how to connect with the kids. All I did was maybe read here and there, dance, sing, and hold someone’s hand. I didn’t think I had made many connections until one girl, at the end of the day, kept hugging me and I had to say, “Don’t worry! I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise!” But I won’t be able to say that on Friday and I just know it’s going to break my heart. 

My parents didn’t have a smooth time with their group because they have thirteen 8 or 9 year olds that were very uneducated, didn’t speak any English, and were even having trouble understanding their own language. Please pray for this group to connect. Because of the language barriers, it scares us to death that they won’t know who Jesus is to them by the end of the week. So, again, please pray that they understand our words and they can get through to these children. And I to mine. It would be a miracle and a pure blessing to convert at least one child to Christianity. 

I can tell this week is going to be exhausting, but I also know that it will be well worth it! Oh and there is a woman here named Marci who is probably the strongest Christian I've ever met. She'll pray over everything and has such faith, it's unbelievable. I look up to her so much and I just thought she deserved to be mentioned here. :)

8/7/11 - Chongwe Village

I still haven’t gotten he chance to find any internet access, but I did get some beautiful pictures of Chongwe Village. Chongwe is a very poor village and it’s where we’ll be holding camp. The ride from Lusaka into Chongwe is quite an aesthetic experience, because one moment you are in a suburban town with stores, cars, and gas stations—and the next, you’re driving into a barren, dry, flat area with bumping roads and huts to the left and right every few seconds. I kid you not; they are man-made huts with straw roofs and everything. There are wells and hut-like outhouses, and outdoor kitchens.  Once you get to Chongwe, you get out of the bus and if you stop talking to your neighbor long enough, you’ll notice how quiet, peaceful, and still everything is. The only noise is the occasional rooster or stray animal and a neighbor calling out to his or her friend in their own tribal native tongues. These languages are similar in general, but the dialects differ from tribe to tribe, yet everyone seems to understand some variation of both English and their native tongue. We were divided up into our camp/construction teams then split up again into smaller groups (5-6 people) and given a translator who would take us around the village and introduce us to different families. Chongwe, if you get past the poverty aspect, is a lot like a normal town. They have houses and a school, water, food, stores, rich vs. the poor, depending on how well off you live, and even a local bar! Granted, most of it is huts and little furniture, but the huts were made by their owners and the people take such great pride in their homes. To us, it may seem like next to nothing, but if you let go of your westernized thinking and put your mindset into Zambia, they have been blessed. Another odd thing is that there is somewhat of a “lost generation” in the village. You will see many little children and many elders, maybe a few twenty or so year olds, but thirty, forty, and fifty? Nowhere to be found. Most died from sicknesses. It is so strange to see and, now that I think about it, so sad. And the air is so dry. By the end of the village tour, my chest was hurting from breathing in all the dust and dry air. I drank three and a half bottles of water over the course of a few hours. But we were walking a long way. And I mean a long way! We must have gone miles until the first house and then a couple more to the next and then took a roundabout the village too. I will end this post here since it’s really late and I have to get up at 5:30 to get ready for the day. Oh and I’m teaching tomorrow, most likely on my own, and I’ve never done anything like that. I’m not usually good with kids. So, please, even though I’ll end up posting this after tomorrow, pray for me. Pray that god gives me the right words to say and that the children really connect and that my translator and I can understand and work well with each other, too. Thank you so much! Good night!

8/6/11 - Choir Night

Tonight after dinner and worship, Margaret came out to give us the low-down on the camp and the orphans. “Every second, a child is orphaned in this country,” she said. She also told a story of a young girl whose father had died and her mother was very sick, so the girl ended up taking on all the responsibilities of the house such as getting food, water, shelter, etc. She also would not eat if her mother hadn’t eaten. Her mother died and the girl was brought to My Father’s House, and she was six years old. There were other stories among this one that would bring audible gasps and sympathetic “Mm-Hmm”’s throughout the room. 

But what really brought people to tears was a choir of orphans that had grown or were still growing up in My Father’s House. They had lost so much and had gone through more tragedy than we privileged Americans can wrap our heads around—and they were singing of hope and happiness. They were so thankful for all that they had and here we all were, sitting in the audiences, our rich mindset thinking that they had next to nothing. But what we don’t understand is that they probably have more than any businessman living in a penthouse in New York City will ever have or dream of having. It hit me hard because they all had legitimate reasons to be depressed, sad, and upset. They had every reason to be angry at God, but here they were, some even on the floor, singing to and worshiping His name! It made me think, because I know so many teenagers and adult who have denied God and sunk into deep depressions for so much less. It really makes you appreciate what you have. Or at least I hope when I get home, I’ll look at my surroundings and I will be able to have that type of appreciation and enthusiasm for life. Oh and there was one song that really the group, probably the song that brought the group to tears and I don’t remember the name, but it went like, “Thank you Mother, for giving me the chance to live.” That was the chorus and it was so touching to hear from a dozen talented but lost little orphans that most were in tears by the end. Things do not bring me to tears very often, I pride myself at being pretty good at handling those types of tear-jerking situations, but this time… I was close.

8/6/11 - Jet Lag

We’ve been traveling for two days, two flights, and three cities. It’s been tiring, but exciting too. With each plane ride over, we were just this much closer to being missionaries. The other people on the trip are so nice, too. Everybody’s so friendly and open. Fortunately for me, there are several other teenagers, including Joe Cannon from Gateway, and several others who I only know by their first names like Benjamin, Jacob, Heidi, Erin, etc. There are several older couples coming and a bunch of people who came on their own without a significant other. 

London was our first stop after D.C. and, if you so chose, you could have attended a London tour. Ours was very brisk though. We were supposed to see Buckingham palace first, which we did get to see, along with Green Park, but our viewing time had to be sped up due to people having rest room crises. After that we had lunch at a delicious restaurant Gary Schneider chose and we all got to eat out on the green overlooking a duck pond! It was gorgeous and the weather was perfect under the shade. Then we cleaned up our trash and made our way to West Minster Abbey, only to find it completely packed with tourists and a line out the wazoo! We asked about the line and the guards said it was because of the publicity the church got from the Royal Wedding not too long ago. So, we decided to visit the gift shop instead, walk over the London Bridge, and then head back to the airport.

After a long 10 hour flight, we arrived in Lusaka around 6 in the morning. There was a gorgeous sunset out the window with intensity that could only be seen from the air since it grew softer on ground. The airport security was quick and easy. Basic passport here and take your fingerprints and picture there. Boom, you’re done! So we got our luggage from the baggage claim and headed outside to find a bunch of trucks; one to load our check bags and two others to load ourselves in. The loading process wasn’t as quick and sufficient as it is in D.C., but, according to Gary, “We have a saying, T.I.Z. This is Zambia.” So, it’s casual and there were women there who were so kind and friendly. One named Margaret gave me a big hug and recognized me as ‘Jessica’s sister’. My sister, Jessica, interned here a couple years ago. 

Lusaka’s grasslands were beautiful and the town, at first when driving through it, didn’t look as impoverished as we’d been told. Then gradually, the houses started to break down as we went along and the jobs looked to be more tedious than productive. I also noticed how dusty the air got. My nose is feeling dusty and dry right now and it isn’t a comfortable feeling, as you can imagine. We got to the Abundant Life Center and introduced ourselves before heading over to the catholic guest house some of us were staying at. Our wow, let me tell you, this guest house is beautiful and not what I was expecting to stay in. In a good way. The bathrooms are clean and the water seems clean too, as well as hot! I was certainly not expecting a hot shower, but it was a happy surprise nonetheless. We had breakfast of toast and cornflakes at the Center and I took a small tour of the grounds. The workers and students there are so kind, and like a teenager here, Benjamin noted, “They’re not the fake kind of nice like in America. They’re genuine.” That made me think and I agree with him. We do fake our kindness a lot in America, but here, they seem like genuinely kind and good people. 

Well we’ll be off to dinner soon and then to bed in preparation for shopping in the market tomorrow! Stay tuned! Oh and it’s “winter” here, so it’s pretty chilly, but it isn’t snowing like it does up north where I’m from in Virginia. It’s just down in the 50s and 60s, which is certainly a surprise since you don’t expect to need a sweatshirt when you’re in Africa! I hope you are all doing well and please continue praying for us :)