zcf updates

"What we really need..."

2007-03-29T13:18:00.000+01:00

Mary here at Chishawasha: Bob and I have been here almost two months, and I can assure you , every day here is an active one. So, I am finally getting around to writing a BLOG. I will share the BLOG job with our talented assistant director, Phil Mvula, who was carrying on with it after Sam returned to Ithaca.
Phil and I talked through several ideas for writing this first joint effort. Should it be upbeat, a delightful story of life here? There are, after all, with these many children, lots of good and funny things happening each day. A sad story? Loss here in Zambia is endemic, virtually pandemic; always plenty of sadness to write about also.
We finally decided on telling you what is really on our minds most often. I will call it, “What we really need…”
Every morning Phillip and I put our heads and our schedules together and plan the day, dividing up the errands and administrative chores for running a home for 35 and a school for 80. We finish the day, or the part of it that doesn’t include the reading and play time with the children, with another conference. Inevitably, at each meeting, one of us says, at least once, “What we really need here is….” The blank space is filled in with: A chicken coop, a skills workshop, a garage, a scholarship fund, someone to teach carpentry, more money for house repairs, bigger clothes for bigger children, desks and tables in the school and in the homes, a VCR for the school, a generator. The list goes on and on.
The fact is that our children are growing and their needs are changing. We will be adding some more young children soon when the two houses under construction open. But we also have a pretty large number of teenagers, some of them very good students.
We are committed to making certain that all the kids we care for are taught the skills they need to make it in adulthood. We are at a critical stage in our growth, and in theirs, where we can see that several will need soon to be thinking about trade schools, colleges. They need different kinds of tools to get there, things we haven’t yet acquired to help them. We make the resources that we have go pretty far, but new needs become apparent all the time. I’ll give an example:
Dr. Bob made note of a couple of the older kids he thought might need eye exams, Sharon and Lazarus, and I arranged to take them in last Friday for tests. Both need fairly strong prescriptions, it was shown. As we drove back, I calculated how much the glasses would cost and how we could pay for them soon if we are careful. When we got home, I was met by the housemothers with a list of another several children who need eye exams also. It makes sense: These children have often lived for years without good nutrition and are quite likely to have developed sight problems. We just hadn’t quite figured on this high a need. But somehow that need will be met.
Another: Last year several of our Junior High (Basic, here in Zambia) students were able to attend a leadership camp for a few days, a trip sponsored by their school. This year they very much wish to go again, and we want them to go. The camp this year is in Botswana and will cost more. They are trying to earn the money for part of the expenses, and, somehow, we will meet that need too.

Many of us, when we think about these orphans, imagine sending them toys, stuffed animals, a cute outfit. Certainly the children delight in presents and are thrilled especially with the personal pictures and letters that sometimes come with a gift box from a kind donor. But what we often really need isn’t something easy to pack into a box even something the child can yet fully appreciate. It is usually a tool—an object, funds, a skilled person—that will help us fulfill the commitment to bring these children into healthy and productive adulthood. You may have an idea where we can find some of the resources we need. You may even have already contributed to our work or plan to do so. Maybe all you can afford to do is read this BLOG. For anything you can do or have done, including following this BLOG, we thank you.

At home but not at home.

2007-01-17T16:46:00.000+01:00

Sitting here in Ithaca, NY looking out on a world covered in snow with temperatures in the 20's its hard to compare with the warmth and regularity of the Zambian sun which by now is being occasionally blocked by rain clouds in a world that is turning green with growth everywhere.

I am feeling exactly like someone who has abandoned his family. The only relief from these feelings is the thought that Phillip and Maria are there every day along with the house mothers in the residences and Ms. Mwanza in the school. They are dedicated to their work and the childrens' needs.

Also the arrival soon of Bob and Mary will give the kids some new things to do and think about and learn. It makes me happy just to imagine Bob coming with some puncture proof soccer balls that will last more than just a few hours before going flat. And just imagine having a Doctor on staff!

Mary has a lot of good ideas that will involve the children in new, fun and benefical activities. I am sorry to miss all that but know that life goes on and things will be going well in Chishawasha. And I know that both of them will read to the kids every day.

I am especially proud of Phillip for taking over this blog and doing such an outstanding job, he certainly surpassed his "coach". Good work, Phillip. Perhaps you will become a writer if the kids ever wear you out. I look forward to readinig your blogs, nothing gets read and re-read more carefully by this old muzunzu.

And thank God for Kathe who continues her sustaining work of fundraising and guidance which keeps everything going.

Blog pressing out of Ithaca,
Sam

christmas gift

2006-12-24T16:35:00.000+01:00

This week we are preparing for Christmas and the mood of children is very high, Maria was giving out clothes from our warehouse, Christmas trees are up in the two residents and the Christmas lights. We have more children this week because a good of those that went to visit relatives have come back. The last group is expected to come today because we told them they need to be before Christmas day so that they can have Christmas Party together

As we were preparing for Christmas, Bobsi one of the small boys ,came to me in a more sorrowful manner and I thought something bad had happened ,because he is a good sympathizer, but this time nothing to do with anyone here.

The first words from his mouth were ‘how is Uncle Sam?’ I said he is okay and asked him, why he was asking about Uncle Sam, he said in a sympathetic tone, I feel sorry for him. I said why? He narrated how Uncle Sam use to enjoy the meals especially nshima with chicken on Sundays and now that we are going to have chicken with rice, in his little mind, I sensed him thinking, if Uncle Sam can enjoyed meals at chishawasha then he is suffering wherever he is. This child believe that there is no better place than chishawasha. I realize it is because of what he had gone through.

We have a new mother in place of Alice who died two weeks ago. She’s good and a tenderhearted. Her name is Rose Mungoma aged 51yrs. To the children, this is like a Christmas gift

Philmvula

cutting on the wound

2006-12-16T09:18:00.000+01:00

The past week has been heartbreaking at chishawasha children’s home of Zambia because of lose of one the mothers ,she died on 11/12/2006 and buried on 14/12/2006.she was one of the first mothers we had when we had just one house ,she has worked with the children almost three (3) years and developed good relationship with them.

Early this year, she ill for almost three mouths, recovered and came back to work. After a mouth ,she lost her daughter who left her with two grandchildren
When the news of her death reached us, mothers and the children started crying loudly, because traditionally this side of the world, the women and girls are suppose to cry loud ,while the men sob silently. You can only see the tear dropping from their eyes. Except for my tribe where the men are the ones who start crying before anybody else.

This reminded me of the time I stayed in the village ,where when someone dies in one of the villages .whether you know them or not ,you are suppose to mourn and show some respect. If you are young ,you stay indoors until the last day of funeral and they use to tells us that we are not suppose to see the coffin. This is different in the city like Lusaka where we are. Unless you know the one who has died that’s when you can participate.

I wondered what FORCE our youngest child, who use to sleep with her in her bedroom was thinking while all these things were happening. being that he lost his parents and now loosing the person who was taking care of him.

For the older children it was like a reminder of the death of their parents. While they were mourning for this mother I felt like the pain of loosing parents in this children is very deep. It was like you cutting on their wounds. Not only the children, but the mothers as well because they are all widows.

This is the first death for the member of staff we have experienced as an organisation and the place is not feeling the same, because we are just like one family.

Even though these things happen almost everyday here, this one feels like our direct burden which we need to bear. I do not know how because we don’t have room anymore, the two houses which we haven’t finished yet are already full. God knows what will happen to two
grandchildren she has left.

Philmvula

The Sky Is The Limit

2006-12-02T09:27:00.000+01:00

THE SKY IS THE LIMIT

This has been the exciting, challenging and most successful
year of Chishawasha Children’s Home, we have the school , the clinic and two more residents are yet to be completed before the end of the year.

This is so because of you people, who have stood shoulder to shoulder acting with courage in making sure things are moving this side of the world. You may not realize it, the things you do, may look simple in your eyes. they are far beyond our expectations, it is not that we do not yearn for more, but this is to let you know how much we appreciate what you are doing for zambian children.

I am so delighted, to let you know , that these children feel they are among the most privileged in the world. Because, the time these children were coming to us, some of them that I witnessed, I could see young lives scared by poverty, racked by diseases, contorted by discrimination, futures cut short and potential unrealized because of lack of education.

Now that they have a beautiful school and a home, I could see the excitement, the joy and the eagerness, to learn, as they walk to their beautiful school every morning. Thanks to you people out there who has taken this privilege and putting yourselves at service of these children . As you join our lifelong struggle for service with UNICEF’s mission to protect the children’s rights, to help meet their basic needs and to expand their opportunities to reach their full potential. And I’m sure with these facilities only the sky will be limit.

I write these words that my heart would have me shout. I am amazed at your generosity not only the generosity of money, but of spirit and I feel words are not enough, to express my gratitude, so all I can say is Thank You to all of you, who supported Sam Weeks, when he was here with us. He is a wonderful man, we will always miss his great sense of humor which lifted our heavy burdens. He was a friend, a teacher and a father, to the children. He was a great leader to the members of stuff, his servant heart left us challeged. Time was very unfair with us, we wished he should have stayed much longer. May God richly bless him and everyone who contributed to his coming and stay here

Thursday the 30th of November was the closing day for the school, the children had a special meal and their guardians came to collect the school reports. Mrs. Mwanza the headteacher said, the guardians were saying they are very happy with the progress and change of the children. These are the children coming from the community that surrounds us to our school.

Therefore, I call on those whom we have called on before to continue in this partnership that is committed to this change and those whom we have never called upon to join this movement for the children . I also challenge all those who currently enjoy the riches of the world to take their knowledge and power, their technologies and resources, and , most of all, their imagination and creativity, to help make the world better for children.

Phillip

My last blog press out of Africa

2006-11-18T10:32:00.000+01:00

The future:
Phillip Mvula, the Assitant Director and a very articulate fellow and a good friend (except when it comes to chocolate) will continue this blog and will share blogging with Mary and Bob during their stay here, Jan-June 07. So it will be lively, informative and from several perspectives. I am looking forward to reading it.

Currently:
I am trying to live in both my worlds simultaneously, aware of the problems of both but with the benefits of neither. Well, thats not quite true. I did enjoy emswa (fried termites) just yesterday and I still have a few USA snacks from the generosity of friends at home.

Looking back:
I came about 10 months ago. One wonders if I have done any good here, anything lasting. Have I justified the expense it took to get and 'keep' me here? Have I taught anything worthwhile? Ms. Mwanza and I have often talked about how much the children forget. I never realized how much forgetting is involved in education.

Recently came across the statement (I think from Ithaca UU newsletter) to the effect that: Caring/kindness is more important than wisdom. So perhaps the kids learned that there are people that care for them who will pay to send someone to them who perhaps is kinder than he is wise.

Maybe the time spent playing with kids was more important than any facts that might have stuck. Ph, and may be the importance of a good sense of humor-
Last night two teenage boys, John and Wisdom came to my room, knelling on the floor to show respect and started laying K50,000 bills on my bed.
"Whats this for?" I ask.
"Sir, we want to show you how much we appreciate you." The bills keep coming.
"Did you guys rob a bank? Where did this come from?"
"No sir, this is for you." Very serious looks.
Finally there is K300.000 on my bed. "I can't take this and I can't [was afraid to] imagine where this came from."
After stringing me on for a little longer, they confessed that Uncle Phillip had given them the Egg Money to pass on to me for Saturday morning purchase. Uncle Sam received his due, they'd pulled his leg expertly.

Soon to be out of Africa,
Sam

"I like this place." X 2

2006-11-11T09:24:00.000+01:00

Blog up date:

The blogging time in the email cafe can be rather stressful. It is just one of several "must-do" errands. The last blog regarding the visit of our Canadian donor was one such time when I was rushing. I wanted to conclude that Phillip had done a wonderful job in keeping us all together and seeing that things got done and got done on time. Not only did I not give him the credit, but I reverted to the short-hand name I use for him which is Ph. Anyway belated kudus (these are African Kudus of course) to Phillip and his good work.

Speaking of Phillip, he was suppose to do last week's blog and had it all ready on disk. This blog was to include pictures. We have been trying to include pictures almost from the first blog. We have not made it yet. Since its was to have been mostly pictures, the text was not too meaningful by itself, so no blog.

Just like with the hard-to-see forest because of all those trees, sometimes Chishawasha is hard to see because of all the children. For example I had spent a good part of an evening caring for the foot of one of the boys who had stepped on something and had a gash in it, not too fresh, but it did not look infected. So sat him down with a bucket, some detol disinfectant and lots of hot water for a good soak. Of course he had to sit there longer than he wanted, which I hoped would remind him to keep his shoes on more. However, the next day I looked out of the van and saw him racing us full tilt down the driveway in his bare feet!

So sometimes its good to get other people views on this place. But first...

Building up-date:

The footings, foundation and pad are complete on the two new houses and the footing and foundation on done on the 3rd new building, the clinic.

In January, Dr. Robert Garrett (Dr. Bob) is coming (with Mary Hotvedt, Ph. D. & chicken fancier) to establish a clinic and see if he can staff it with volunteer Drs. So we need and will have a building to house that effort.

Dr. Mathews Simfukwe of the SOS school (where our hi-schooler go) Clinic has agreed to work with Dr. Bob and to sponsor him via their clinic (Zambian legal requirement). Dr. Mathews has treated some of our kids via SOS. As a start to this colaberation, he is coming out and doing medical histories chart on each child. And this has meant regular visits here on week-ends.

Dr. Mathews is one of Zambia's treasures. A rarity, not because he is a doctor, but because he chose to stay in Zambia. He has a wonderful warm smile, is out-going with a good sense of humor. For example, as my stay here grows short, he has changed my name from Weeks to Sam Days.

Puzzled by why a man who sees children all day at school and does community work as well, would chose to spend a day off seeing more children at Chishawasha, I put it to him. "Sam," he says with the warmest smile, "I like it here. I like what you are doing."

But the good doctor does not come by himself. He is accompanied by his three sons ages of about 5 - 9 years old. After having been here for most of the day, the youngest Simfukwe confidently announces to me in such a direct manner as to leave no discussion, "I like it here and I am going to spend the night!"

So there you have it from the oldest to the youngest (who did not get to spend the night) Simfukwe.

Blog pressing out of Africa
Sam

The week that was... more than I can remember

2006-10-25T08:49:00.000+01:00

We must have a close-knit well organized team with good leadership! We came through our test with flying colors: the Zambian flag on a flag pole.

Several times I have tried to 'think through' these past days without success, but I will try one more time.

The big event was the visitation of our major donor from Canada, Mr. Collin Glassco and friends. By way of thanking those who he has talked into funding us and who couldn't come in person, he comes with video camera and plaques which are handed on site to the head teacher, for example, at a completed school or house mother in front of a house under constuction. He takes this back on video for the donors to watch.

This meant each constuction site needed a significant amount of work to show. Because of the time between the arrival of some of the funds and Mr. Glassco's coming to shoot some of the results, things had to move at a clipped pace. This is not the commonly accepted way in Zambia.

We needed to move into a new school from out of 2 houses for younger students and out of the warehouse for the older ones.

The warehouse was instantly (no exageration) turned into a concrete block factory (for which it is much better suited). This gave Mr. Cheleshe the surface and area needed to make and cure blocks in a rainy season (if it ever comes in earnest).

As we moved into the new school, it was still being completed. For a time the students had to run back to old school's outdoor latrine. A cafeteria or at least a school kitchen had to be set up and functioning, even if it meant working on boxes to start.

Workmen were sleeping in the building up until the day students moved in. Keeping the construction crew on site overnight meant earlier starting times in the morning and no need of transport. But it also made the 'school yard' look like a hobo camp with cans, bottles, plastic bags, burned out camp fires and clothes hanging in the bushes. This and all construction trenches and excess gravel piles, scaffolding had to disappear. I was heartened on the mornings before sunrise to come across workmen at work. This is unusual in this country.

So staff of houses, the school, the kids and the construction crews needed to work together to make things happen on time and efficiently. At one point we were moving bed rolls and personal effects of the workmen to one side of a school room while bringing in school supplies.

It all happened, even things that I knew we could not possibly get done! For example, a world map should have been painted on the end of the school house. We had contacted a graphic designer who had done an elem. school. He was good but only a couple of million kwacha over our non-existant budget. And there was the flag pole for the school yard. All I could see was a piece of pipe laying on the ground, the day before the event.

Shortly after dark the evening before, one of the boys came to my room saying Mr Cheleshe was asking for some bulbs. "What does he need them for?" Apparantly they were working on the flag pole and it was so dark they couldn't see what they were doing and wanted bulbs for the exterior lights to help. So a bulb from the common room and bath room were taken. I invisioned a 'Laurel and Hardy' flag pole project, putting it up in the dark and the cement fixing it at a jaunty angle pointing God knows where.

So leaving to pick up Glassco and entourage, we pass by the school. There was a straight and true flag pole complete with rope, pulley, winding cleats and the flag. And blossoming from the end of the school in many colors was an out-of-this-world, map of our earth. Elem. school rooms had large numbers and letters dancing around the walls with appropriate accompanying pictures. I felt disoriented, where was I? Whose wonderful school was this I was visiting?

No time to collect my thoughts, had to go collect Canadians in Lusaka and return with them. They looked at the school with just about the same wonder and amazement as I did.

I didn't mention the rehearsals of songs, dances and declamation, but the kids during school break time and in the houses at night were practicing. Ms. Mwanza had Ph and I come for a dress rehearsal which was much too long for the time Glassco had. And it was a loose performance with much getting ready for the next presentation.

Again surprise at a tight performance not too long which ran smoothly and effectively. I am told that Mr. Glassco's eyes teared up on him. But how would I know? I was too busy wiping my own.

Happy Zambian Independence Day from this blog presser,
Sam

Dreams come true

2006-10-16T13:07:00.000+01:00

Dreams come true

As a child I had a lot of things I wanted and hoped, unfortunately they couldn’t materialize. Being the first born in family of six, lost parents at the age of 17 years has been challenging and rough. Despite of the storms here and there, I count myself very fortunate, because the storms made me strong and I have discovered that storms and problems are not there to kill us, but to usher us to our real destine. Among many things I have learnt in my walk of life is taking up responsibility, when I took the role of father and mother to my siblings.

Culturally Zambia is a nation where people really knew how to embrace each other inspite of your tribe or which part of the country you may have been from and being at the heart of southern Africa, peaceful and one of the first country to be independent, we have been the place of refugee to a lot of war torn countries like Angola ,Congo and South Africa. However, with the coming of HIV/AIDS which has claimed a lot of people, more especially the middle aged, leaving the behind the grandmother and grandchildren have changed the concept of families such that people are now afraid to show them selves to their relations ,because they are overwhelmed with the orphaned children .

However, a lot of orphaned children have no one and no where to run to. I remember visiting one family which had almost 10 orphans children and in the few minutes I was there I saw the difference in treatment, between their own children and the orphans, this is where I discovered that discrimination and stigma is real when it comes to orphaned children. Thinking about these children growing up under these conditions, I wonder what will become of them when they become adults and what kind of families are they going to build, I believe everything people have become starts at home and parents play a very important role in our well being. Someone said, you are a true copy of your father. I remember looking at my father as the most powerful, intelligent and loving man in the whole world and I am working very hard to become like him.

However, I am so happy today that there are people thinking about orphaned children, even though nobody can replace your parents I believe with the help that these children are receiving there are going to become something in life. Every parent has a dream for their children I remember when I was young my father used to tell me that his dream for me was that I should become an attorney and every one at home used to call me the lawyer. I grew up thinking about nothing else but law. Looking at these children at Chishawasha Children’s Home of Zambia I believe their parents had dreams about them, which they hoped to see come to pass unfortunately they didn’t but I am so delighted to know that their parent dreams are coming true even though we do not know exactly what they dreamed about them, I believe if they were here today they would have been very grateful to everyone who has contributed to the wellbeing of these children. I remember one day when I lost my mother I couldn’t stop mourning for her until someone come to me and said your mother loves you she doesn’t approve of you mourning for her this way even though you can’t hear her she is saying to you “come on, stand up and go on with your life”. I believe the parents of these children though we can’t hear them are saying, “thank you to all of you who are working to finish what they started”, because some of these parents didn’t even know what will become of their children because of poverty which is at a high level in this nation.

With their parent’s silent voices, I would like to express my gratitude to all of you supporting Chishawasha Children’s Home of Zambia, you have made dreams come true for us Zambian children. Please keep up the good work

Phillip

The case of the orphaned orphanage

2006-10-07T11:40:00.000+01:00

The case of the orphaned orphanage

I would like to thank Phillip Mvula for last week ’s blog. This was a warm up for when I am gone, or it was suppose to have been. May be I should be saying, “Thank you Phillip for allowing me to do another blog.” He is a ready author/writer who has found a ready readership. I tend to take this for granted but it is most unusual that he has this command of English and uses it so well. The only other Zambians I have met with whom I can converse with easily have spent a lot of time abroad. I received many favorable comments on his piece. So you have that to which to look forward. Also, if Phillip is into sharing, Mary and Dr. Bob will be here in January and have said that they would be glad to contribute and give you their perspectives.

Phillip’s family name, Mvula, means RAIN. This last week it happened. Sunday afternoon I was in my room washing and mending when I heard what seemed to be a thunder clap. I ran outdoors and looked up at an unthreatening sky. The Zambian Air Force does not break the sound barrier. I joked, my old dried out joke with those around about the possibility of rain. And then it happened. Four long months of waiting, of the No Rain Tension (NRT) were washed away by a light sprinkle that turned to a regular dust settling rain. I stood out in it for the duration, with Chinyanja comments from the porch which needed no translation. Something about those who don’t know enough to come in out of the rain. Some of the children joined me for a moment of dampness. I went in and phoned Mr. Phillip “Rain” who seem uninterested in my announcement.

This was a big week for Chishawasha. The school building with more completion dates than classrooms, is finally filled with students. And the old dull warehouse has returned to being itself, no long pretending. Things are humming in the new building. Some of our equipment which didn’t look out of place in the old setting, now seems especially shabby. Old cracked, pitted, broken blackboards, long bereft of their chalk rails look about as at home as an old wreck would in a new car show room.

But we have moved forward. This school has: 1) Lights and electricity! 2) Windows with actual glass and they open and close! 3) Kitchen with stoves and refrigerator! 4) Restrooms with toilets, sinks and showers AND running water! How can I complain about having to write around that crack in the board when we no longer have a latrine.

Besides the new school opening, we have a new house start. Foundation digging has commenced on house number three, one of two in this current phase. These two houses though unbuilt have been “filled” with waiting kids in need who have been slotted to come as soon as these accommodations are completed.

This brings to mind a return trip from town recently, I had my camera and asked Phillip to stop at a scene we pass each trip we make. I needed to take a picture. There is a large sturdy sign announcing: Heart For Children Orphanage. A few yards away is a large pedestal five feet tall with a statue of a boy and a girl, arms up-stretched to the sky. Are they dancing or raising their hands in joy? Chishawasha has no sculpture, nor even a sign but I am not the least jealous. Because we have something that Heart For Children Orphanage doesn’t. We have children. All they have is a sign and a statue and some land. I think Kathe said they started about the same time she did, looking for a site. They found theirs, put up their edifices and then who knows? A monument to good intentions. Meanwhile Kathe has moved steadily forward growing her dream. She has encountered sufficient problems to stop most people, that have certainly stopped others. But we are here and anything but an orphaned orphanage.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

2006-09-27T15:13:00.000+01:00

HOPE IN THE POTENTIAL OF CHILDREN
Even when we are among the most privileged of men and women, we can not be separated to the problem the underprivileged are facing .This problem seems to have been avoided and no one want to talk about it or committing themselves. We have two days before the elections and nobody is talking about addressing this issue, my heart break all the time I think about the underprivileged children more especially those ., living street in streets of Lusaka .these are children like any other child in the world who should in class learning but, the only choice they have to survive is to beg in the streets .Personally, , I attribute this to poverty . The population of these children is increasing everyday I am always moved beyond compassion, seeing these children coming to me begging for money for food.

Talking to them I discover that some of these children run from their parents because of hunger, some are send by their parents to beg so they can have something to eat at home, some are orphans who are running away from their late parents relatives because of bad treatment and some are actually born in the streets, from adults former, street kids, and some blind people who have migrated to the street running away from their families, they produce more children, these children are actually growing in the streets doing everything in the street and they don’t know any other way of life apart from street life . They don’t know how to live in a home and don’t even have basic needs .

Indirectly, I feel we are rising or creating another tribe of people apart from the 72 tribes we have in Zambia and this tribe is coming with their new culture and language .The language is one of, insults , a culture of working hard to beg through and using violence to get what they want more especially at night when downtown become there’s, nobody can move freely at anymore.

Government through the ministry of defense started a program last year of giving them skills in the military camps such as carpentry, bricklaying and plumbing only for one year, six months, which has not worked, because after finishing the training they dumped them and tell them to find a job. Unemployment rate in Zambia is very high for a little boy or girl to find a job, such that they prefer going back to the streets.

Sadly the number of girls in the streets is also growing very fast. One day I was walking in one of the streets and I felt someone touching my pant , looked back only to find a four year old girl and immediately looked at her my heart was grieved. as I asked her where her parent where ,she said they are at the flyover bridge , which is the strategic place for blind people begging for money .I reach out to my wallet and gave her some money headed to where I was going, while walking back a thought come to my mind that what will become of that child in the coming months or how she is going to defend herself from violence kids.

However, working with Chishawasha Children’s Home of Zambia a number of years, I have realize that even though this problem is so overwhelming. As I look at our children in our centre I see young lives hope revived, confidence to face tomorrow, bright futures and potential realized my heart rejoices that we can guarantee the young people will have access to knowledge and information they need to stay healthy. And every time I look at their smiling faces knowing that they are secured because they are away from the violent world.. It blesses my heart I invite you to partner with us as we help these children. I have seen too much to change, simply accept the way children are living, I have too much hope in potential of children to live things as they are, and I believe we can change the world of the children if we can join hands

Phillip

hope in the potential of children

2006-09-27T15:06:00.000+01:00

What are the children learning?

2006-09-16T11:14:00.000+01:00

Pen Pal Project

Our pen pal project is working! We (or Mary) got her first response and is busy writing her reply. Thats the good news, the bad news is we only got one response so I had to tell Eliza that she had gotten none.

Weather Report

Dry, no rain and more no rain. It is so dry out the the soil is getting up and going to look for water. However, early morning birds are singing much more and things are flowering as if they are expecting something.

More on Monkey Balls

Last Sunday was a lazy, laundry, reading sort of day. The most active thing I did was driving the kids to church and retrieving them.

Late afternoon I needed to get out. Encountered Bobsi in the common room. "Lets go get some more Monkey Balls." [Monkey balls or elephant orange is a local tree producing a large spherical fruit about softball size which looks like a green orange but dried to a gourd-like hardness so it can be made into cups or simply made into a decorative ball or rattle. See blog Sept 2, 06] My store of monkey balls was gone and needed to be replentished before I got another request from a would-be decorator.

Bobsi was game. I gave him the choice of going to the trees on our property or to a new tree I'd spotted and visited just off the road on my early morning walks. "The new tree."

So off we go picking up a stick that will be needed. (I had found they were all out of reach.)

Arriving at the site, I was taken aback by the change from my previous visit. The area around the tree had been thick with grass and brush making it somewhat hidden. But a recent fire had taken away all that cover and left the tree quite exposed. In addition, a large house was now visible, not far away. Seems they were having a party with lots of loud music. Crossed my mind (the good side) this tree may be on their property, (then the bad side) but it sounds like a good party, they probably aren't looking for monkey ball thieves.

So in we went, the stick was absolutely useless, couldn't dislodge any. Finally I put Bobsi up on my shoulders. I could see in our shadow his hand close around one. But he didn't seem to be having any success. Just then a loud, deep man's voice accosts us from behind. I expect Bobsi to jump down, but he just keeps on trying. The man's voice continues in Chinyanga. "What's he saying?" I keep repeating in a half whisper to a silence Bobsi. I was sure we were being directed off his land and that we should leave his trees alone.

The monkey on my back persisted. Finally I heard the same man's voice say now in English (answering my repeated question) "I am giving him instruction. He must twist them to get them free." Moments later, it broke free. Profuse thanks to the helpful gentleman who was just passing by and offered helpful advice. He asked if we were going to eat them. I explained our aim was to decorate them. "Good" he said, "some of them are poisonous."

So what did Bobsi learn? You've got to twist them no matter whose land they are growing on if you want to take them home.

On the way home, we passed by the new school, the work site is usually deserted on Sundays. However, we found an active crew unusually busy and working with music from a transistor radio. It was our older high school boys making concrete blocks on their own with Mr. Cheleshe's block making machine, laying out 4 blocks at a time. As we watched, they seemed more proficient and coordinated than the usual crew of laborers. The blocks looked great and I was later told they were perfect by the builder's assistant, Phinneas.

The boys are not afraid to work and they learned this skill quickly. Not long ago they like myself would not have recognized a block making machine and did not know how to mix concrete. You have a good feeling, these boys are going to make it in this world.

Lets not hit the road.

2006-09-09T09:38:00.000+01:00

Good Saturday morning. Glad I was up early and not trying to sleep in. Before 7am, lots of noise outside my window. Childern are sweeping the grounds and the concrete gutter that runs around the base of the house (to catch runoff from the roof, but not during the dry season, it collects dust.) Much talk and singing. This sound is nicely balanced by simialar sounds outside my door (to common room). I step out to find kids on chairs washing down the walls, kids sweepinig and moving furniture and, of course, those whos job it always is, it seems to talk about the work instead of doing it. Oh, and much singing, as well!

These displays of Sat. a.m. cleaning send me back into my room, but only a few moments with the broom quickly quiets my need to do the same. Its back to writing a blog with singing in my ear.

School Report, Building:

The roof is still going on and the glass in the windows is being installed. Its a school with lots of windows.

The workmen like their accomplishments, they like them very much, so much that some have moved into the building. It is quite comfortable inside, compared to the makeshift shelters they have been in.

I discovered blankets and other signs of living-in while checking out what cleaning will be required before our moving in. One laborer decided that this empty space would be a good place to work on his bicycle, which it was, the only problem is that our new, unsealed concrete floor now has a large oil stain on it, not easily removed, I'd guess.

School Report, Students:

We are starting the last term of the year. Bright eyed and eager, but it seems they have forgotten things over the vacation, such as their times tables. I've forgotten how much forgetting there is in eduction.

School Report, Teachers:

We are starting with a full compliment of teachers, 4, with the hiring of Chabala to replace Helen. Mrs. M is doing well but has scheduled eye surgery next week.

Weather Report:

No reain, hasn't rained since May. The usual clear sharp skies of Zambia are hazed with dust from persistant east winds.

'No Accident" Road Report:

The other day, Phillip was driving into town in moderate traffic moving along at a good pace. Suddenly and purposefully a man dove onto the blacktop just yards ahead of him. He is a good driver and veered off just missing the man, other traffic and avoided overturning our hi-center-of-gravity van.

Thats not the end of the story, however. On his return trip, the man had been "successful" perhaps improved his timing or choose a less skillful driver on another try. He was laying where they had carried him off the road.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

Soccer Ball Hell

2006-09-02T09:49:00.000+01:00

Imagine getting kicked around all your life until ultimately you were completely deflated and then put in a container and shipped to Zambia to continue the abuse. This is the sad fate of many soccer balls. Sad as this is, there are also those kids who try to make do with soccer balls made out of many compressed plastic shopping bags (give them a plus for recycling) but they don't get the same action and they would happily deal with something closer to the real thing. Finally there is that over-worked and under appreciated person who tries the Sisyphean task of keeping some air in those flabby almost spheres: the keeper of the hand pump and inflation pin. The job is not just the work but it seems to occur at inopportune times. Like in the middle of a nap or most often when hurrying out the door to get to town.

So it was not out of the goodness of my heart that I took a side trip to our local Game Store (think Target) where "you always win at Game." I selected a Spaulding ball, good sturdy sounding American brand (except printed on the ball "Designed for South African Conditions" with symbols for rain, snow and sun) and all for only 28,000 Kwacha!

What a lot of fun with so much less futile pumping this was going to be. I flashed the new ball when getting out of the car. A few luck boys got to hold it.

After some time Bobsi comes and asks for the ball using a "good English sentence" so he get to break it in.

Later I react with mock horror when I see the ball with mud on it (they are playing around the wash area). However, about a hour or two later, Bobsi and friends come in most apologically with a limp new ball and an explaination I missed. The ball did not last a day and it never made it to the pitch, was never in a real soccer game. This must be scooer ball hell.

But there must be more to life than this brief period of abuse! Uncle Bob our recent visitor from NM (Robert W. Garrett, MD AND Soccer Coach) informed me that through the miracle of modern technology (requiring little faith) there can be a reserection for some soccer balls. A substance used in car tires (tyres in Zambia) to seal punctures can be used in these ball for the same purpose. He has promised to bring some of this miraculous cure when he returns in January! Meanwhile a box of sad, abused soccer balls, one of them practically new, awaits his healing hands.

Monkey Balls

Speaking of balls, there is currently a monkey ball (craze) project going on here. Monkey balls or elephant orange trees grow locally, producing soft-ball sized fruit which is green and very hard (only elephants can eat them). When dried they are like gourds but nicely round. I discovered them, dried with burned on decorations at the craft market. I bought one and Kathe explained what they were and that they grow on our land, and that we parked near such a tree when we drove in to the market. They were selling for K6,000 while I later discovered painted one going for K45,000 at the lodge where Bob and Mary were staying.

This seemed like a project the kids might like. Bobsi, Sanny and I go out on our property and locate about 4 trees and bring back a shopping bag full. Meanwhile Kathe is collecting them as well. Taines and Phillip suggest ways of cleaning them before decorating them (boiling them in water). Lazaro seems to have worked with them before and simply uses a knife. Some patterns are befinning to appear, some burned and some practice work with colored markers. We'll see what develops. Maybe you'll want to put in your order now for Christmas?

Kathe Leaves for the $tates and School is about to start up again.

Hurry and scurry as momentum builds as Kathe does the many things necessary to allow her to leave this place for a time. Without a break this same energy seems to flow seamlessly into getting the school ready to open Sept. 4th. Dig into warehouse for school supplies., older girls paint the rooms in the new building as the roof is completed over their heads. Glass is being installed in the windows.

At the houses, there seems to be an upswing in interest in reading. New books have been seeping out of the warehouse and into the house libraries.

I can feel the tension in the air that has not known a rain in three months. I have convinced myself that I can smell it on early morning walks. It too will start.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

Enough NewsTo Clog The Blog

2006-08-27T13:27:00.000+01:00

So much has happened that much of what I report will have to be a breif summary, others are breathing down my neck to leave...

Visitors:

Bob and Mary have come and gone. I now have an appreciation for what the kids must experience, having people come and get involved in their lifes and then leave. Bob and Mary where here for everyone including me. Amongst other things they brougt the gift of music (classical guitar CDs) for me. They lightened everyone's load and are promising much more when they return in January for a 6 month stay. Amoung other things they hope to establish a clinic with rotating Drs from US to staff it. One of most memerable times of their visit was the party Mary brought off for Bob and Phillip's birthdays. Food, music, and dancing, and more dancing, drumming, and more dancing. Its taken some time for House 1 to settle down again properly on its foundation.

Chishawasha on Safari

Several things came together to get this to happen. First we got a new vehicle, second, Bob and Mary came and stayed at the Protea Lodge and finally there was a core of kids that didn't get to go anywhere for vacation. Bob and Mary made the arrangements and I think financed the trip at the facility where they were staying about 20 minutes from our home. This lodge is very nice and has game trails and game keeper lead tours. It is small by African standards but great for a first visit. It was the first time for many to see the wildlife for which Africa is famous. Needless to say they were blown away. Of special interest was the lone elephant, not exactly wild. This elephant was an orphan and the kids seemed to have a speciall feeling for him and got to feed him ground nuts and monkey balls (elephant oranges). They got to pet him as well. The sounds in the house were so different when they returned, different tone to the voices. It took about six hours for things to begin to approach normal.

Visit to Ngombe Compound and Kondwa Center and return with our newest child.

We visited an orphanage/school from whence comes many of our residents. It had ninety some children, mostly younger kids. We also toured the immediate area visiting Home Health Care recipients, mostly AIDEs patients for Bob's benefit giving him first hand look at what awaits him.

We were slated to bring back two children, a boy and a girl. We returned with just the boy and a small plastic bag (all his worldly possession) which may be held a change of trousers and a pair of socks. The girl which was promised was at the last minute exchanged by the guardian for a boy. Not an uncommon occurance, said Kathe who fights to keep equal numbers of boys and girls. So a return trip will be necessary to get the girl.

Victoria Falls

A lot of water, certainly a lot of water. Other worldly, I had the sneaking feeling that it was a 'special effect' done by Hollywood. But no StarWars fighter came zooming through the mist.

School Project

The boys are helping to creosote the roof rafters. The girls will be doing interior painting. Gives new meaning to the concept of "School Project."

There! short of time, I mostly unclogged the blog. Perhaps I can revisit some of these topics.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

Charting your course to a clean room!

2006-08-22T11:09:00.000+01:00

The other day a knock came to my door, its vacation and I get a lot of knocks. Usually its, "Uncle Sam, I'm asking for the ball." >I am working on, "Please may I have the ball."< This means getting a soccer ball and extracting a promise to have it back by sundown while inflating it.

This knock was different. Eliza and Mercy walk in confidently and promptly sit on my floor, partialy disolve in giggles then recover, Mercy moves to hide behind Eliza. "And to what do I owe your presence in my room today?" "Oh, we have come to do some charting," says Eliza. "Yes, Uncle Sam," pipes in Mercy.

"Charting? Charting? I am not sure what you mean."
"Charting, you know Uncle Sam," says Eliza. "Yes, Uncle Sam," throws in Mercy.

"Could you spell it for me?" that sometimes helps and gives me time to think. I mentally drop the "r" from the word a method that has solved such problems in the past, but no help this time.

"C-H-A- some hesitation-R-T-I-N-G," offers Eliza.
"Good spelling," the teacher comments, "but I still don't know what you want."
"What is charting? Give me some idea, what do you do when charting?"

"You know, Uncle Sam. You tell jokes and and stories." "Yes, Uncle Sam," encourages Mercy.
"Oh, you mean chatting, C-H-A-T-T-I-N-G !"

"Yes, Uncle Sam, charting," they both say.
"Well, what do you want to chart er chat about?"
Some searching of minds and exchange of glances between Mercy and Eliza.

Finally, Eliza wants to know how to become a journalist, and after covering that topic broadly we focus in on TV journalism and finally to presenting the news on TV. The only other question had to do with the difference between a college, a university and a course.

So after a half hour of career counseling and suggestions like its good to keep your options open when going for jobs for which there is a lot of competition, etc. I apologize for how dirty my rug and floor are (upon which they are sitting).

"Oh, let us clean them for you, Uncle Sam." Before I can say much, I find myself retreating to the safety of the middle of my island bed, with sweeping, mopping, wall washing, window sill cleaning going on. Others are quickly recruited or volunteer, out comes the Cobra wax (does it have any anti snake properties?). I remind them with no effect that it was the floor and rug they had permission to work on. I have tuned the radio to good Zambian cleaning music and upped the volume (I felt I needed to contribute in some way). Bobsi goes polishing/dancing around my room with a foot brush as some else swings the mop as a companion. My usually quiet room becomes the place suddenly to visit for the curious: children, mothers, visitors (its hard to receive people while isolated on your bed). The activity seems to go well beyond cleanliness. But I am saved ultimately by Peggy delivering lunch and from somewhere my rug is returned.

Peacefullness is restored when I turn off the radio and I eat a quiet lunch in a very clean room.

Blog pressing out of Africa
Sam

ps: This blog was delayed, well, for a very good reason. The writer of this was not at the computer at the usual time and day because he'd gone to Livingstone in soutern Zambia and gapped at Victoria Falls. I am sorely tempted to do a travelog-blog but I'm sure its been done.

I lift up mine eyes unto the hills...

2006-08-12T09:19:00.000+01:00

Garden Report

Several months ago, when planning the garden and looking at seeds, I found some beet seeds and noted that they would be the first thing up and ready to eat. I like beets and their greens so I bouht some and planted what I felt was my own little garden. No one else seemed interested in them or knew what they were.

I failed to notice last week that some of the girls were looking a little redder around the mouth. But later one of them showed me her new cosmetic right from the garden! It was a small piece of beet root. Just pick it, squeeze it and rub it on your lips. Sam.s beets had suddenly become Uncle Sam (notice: I have no appostrophe, question marks and a few other punctuation marks on this system today. I am not good at punctuation, so many of you may not have really noticed anyway) s TOTAL organic all natural lip enhancer. This product has not been tested on any animals except for perhaps a few wandering, free range chickens. I did get a small taste of them, Taines got a few and cooked them. Maybe I can market my new line of cosmetics at Greenstar next year.

School Building Report

what I have been referring to as the lintels (no, not the legumes) for doors and windows was actually a poured concrete cap that went around the entire building and served as lintels as well. On top of that went 3 more rows of blocks and now we are ready for the roof!

An Orphanage (can not get a question mark)

Ours is a different sort of orphanage. With that word I envision the flow of perspective parents parading through inspecting various residents. Not so here. But that doesn.t mean there are no adoptions.

Shortly after Daniel arrived with us, he was about 5 years old and he approached Phillip with the question, Aren.t you my father. Why do you ask, responded Phillip. Because we look alike, came the answer. Phillip couldn.t say no. He sees his son almost every day. A case of the child adopting the parent.

During school vacation time, those children with relatives frequently go home for visits, leaving the rest of us behind. (Lazaro has not returned yet.) So Daniel approaches his .father. and tells him that this vacation he must take him home for a visit. Phillip couldn.t say no.

Never was a youngster more intent on his project. He found a plastic bag for his things and came out proudly with it. Not good enough says the critical father. Phillip reminds me of his gym.book bag that is in my room. I retreive it. Daniel can see this is much better and beams. Off he goes for his home visit. Fortunately Phillip, a bachelor, has sisters and brothers at home to care for him during the day while Phillip is at Chishawasha and work.

He wakes up with Phillip sometimes as early as 5am and asks for his toothbrush before he is out of bed. He has a family that is focused on him and reports are that he is very happy and will not respond when asked if he wants to come back.

I Lift Up Mine Eyes Unto The Hills...

This part of Zambia, like the prairies of Montana where I grew up are rather 2 dimentional. So as a child, I was always drawn to the hills (buttes) none was too small to be overlooked and my father seemed sensitive to the need to climb and always helped out by getting us into the vicinity for that activity.

So there is this hill nearby my Zambian home, actually two hills with a saddle between, they are not very high but always visible. They seemed to call to me. I would study them when driving by for the best means of access. So the first Monday of my vacation, I set out for an adventure. I pictured myself at the top of the highest hill in a heady breeze, wonderful view and quiet meditation. I reached the base of the hill in a surprizing short time and found what looked like the road.path up. But was taken aback to hear voices coming down from above, was that shouting, chanting, singing... Just beyond the saddle my way seemed blocked by two men on either side of the path. I went up to them, but they were lost in prayer or mumbling, then saw an older man sitting on a rock and approached him. He too was in what sounded like prayer. Meanwhile the chanting voices from above were sounding more urgent, intense, even tortured. As I turned the old man began shouting, but it didn.t seem to be directed at me, but rather to the voice further up the hill. I deciding may be it was time to go down (voices were reminiscent of Islamic chanting I had heard), then a friendly voice calls, sir, sir. A young man greets me and I explain why I am here on the hill: queit meditation. He askes me to join his group. I accept to find out they are members of a pentacostal church. I was introduced to the Bishop. I was seated on a rock and questioned about my beliefs especially regarding Jesus and the Bible. So I say I believe in the Bible but not in the same way they do. And I hold most of the major religions as sacred and worthy of my study. I didn.t beleive in a God of excussion. My church has had Islamic and Jewish speakers for example. At one point I rose to leave because I seemed to be causing controversy. But they asked me to stay. We stand throughout. Long fervent prayers, building in intensity, to shouting, speaking in tongues. Bishop exhorted us to bring the blood of Jesus down on eachother. This was metaphoric, calling and shouting: blood of Jesus, blood of Jesus in English, Chinyanja and in tongues. We sang simple, singable hymns lead by the Bishop clapping his hands: On the day of pentacost, fire fell on me (twice) Fire, fire, fire, fire fell on me (twice).

Fire was pronounced Fie-yer, Fie-yer, Fie-yer.
At some point it came to me that I was with just one of several groups on the hill this day. Our group numbered about 10 souls.

Bishop asked me if I had any special problems to be addressed in prayer. Yes, I have 33 problems: Each child at the orphanage. Did I have any other problems, health problems. Yes, old age. To be old is to be blessed by God, was his reply.
I was instructed to raise my hands during the prayer which was quite lengthy, but I managed to keep them up. Finally I was told the meeting was over. Before I left I went over to shake the Bishops hand and thank him for including me. I also thought to embrace him as other Africans had welcomed me to their church. And earlier he had remarked that some muzungus did not show much respect to their African bothers. I was not prepared for the response. It actually frighten him and he jumped away with me still holding his hand. I apologized but before I could began my decent into the real world I was invited back next week, same time. How many miles (km) had I come this day.

I am going, I am going!

2006-08-05T09:58:00.000+01:00

School Construction Report

The lentels are complete. Its a good looking building standing out there in the bush, Zambian dirt red. Both Kathe and I like the color, but the bricks must be stuccoed over. I asked Mr. Cheleshe if some of the earth from which the blocks were made, could be added to the stucco to color it. "No." But the cement can be colored in other ways.

What did I learn today?

Lazaro or Lazarus is a special friend of mine of whom I have talked about before. The two of us, it think, have shared feelings of being lost and alone, albeit his on an entirely different scale than mine. We don't communicate well. His English is not the best and my Chinyanja non-existant. He has an easy smile and a cloudy questioning side glance when he doesn't understand what he thinks might be a joke.

I have seen him sit for some time with a vacant look staring off at nothing with a sad look on his face. Nothing I can do at times like this will cheer him up. My usual method doesn't work: positioning myself in the most akward of positions if necessary to maintain eye contact and whispering, "Seca [smile]." It works on everyone else who I've seen glum-faced. He doesn't want to talk, only acknowledges that he is feeling bad when asked.

He goes through bouts of needing books read to him. I think I mentioned before that I learned his interest in the story is not that great, he seems to want the contact that goes with reading, just sitting on the couch together. At other times I get to help him with his homework.

Generally we seem to get along and he has been helpful when ever I need a hand (not that the other wouldn't). Sometimes the others are too helpful, I've been known to run from house to school in order to be allowed to carry my things to class and avoid the more than helpful hands grabbing at, in the end, what they can 'to help'. "Let me help you, let me help you Uncle Sam."

But if I need a hand in the garden or a hammer for a project, Lazaro comes through. We have gone on several walks 'into the bush' together.

It is too easy (much less painful) for me to accept these kids at face value, see them as typical teenagers trading used Cell-Tell talk time cards which have no value other than trading; playing marbles in the school yard or kicking the soccer ball around.

But I have mentioned Lazaro surprize attack on a bush and striping it during one of our walks. Without benefit of any tools (he rejected my knife) made a stout piece of rope in just a few minutes. This was not the Lazaro I knew or taught.

So I began to ask... how had he learned this? "From a friend in the village." The following is what I have pieced together over some time of Lazaro's life to date: (but be aware that we do not communicate well)

He grew up in a small village. It was over a half hour walk to the nearest store. Family had some cattle and goats. Things changed drastically when his father died. Relations came and took everything of value including the door!

"Was there anything you could do?"
"Mother went to the Chief."
"What happened then?"
"My sister married the Chief."
"She is well-off then?" "Yes."

Then he lost his mother.

"Have you heard from any of your family recently?"
A whistful, "No."

"Would you like to write to them?" I had no idea if we had a postable address.
There was a positive answer but I could not gauge his enthusiasm. Was he saying yes because thats what I expected or was he wondering about the writing, such as what language?

Yesterday Phillip told me Lazaro's brother had contacted him saying he'd like to take him over the vacation. "Have you told him yet?" "No, I'll do that this morning."

So when a more joyful (half dancing) Lazaro than I'd ever seen came across the yard shouting, "I am going, I am going," I knew what he was talking about but had to pretend I didn't so he could unload some of his emotions.

I was in Lusaka when his brother came to collect him and his things. But a day and a half after the event, kids of all ages are still coming up to me with the same question, "Did you know that Lazaro has gone?" "Yes," I say. "He wanted me to tell you that he was going and was sorry you weren't here when he left."

His best friend, Bobsi, had the same message but with a secret that was too big to share right away. Finally I was told in a hushed voice, that Lazaro told him that he was going to bring something back for me.

Blog pressing out of Africa
Sam

And God said, "Let there be evolution."

2006-07-29T11:25:00.000+01:00

I have completed 6 months of my visit.

A few weeks ago, I carelessly remarked that God had a sense of humor. Even as I was writing it (just as right now), I knew it was unwise.

Yesterday was to have been an "easy" day. Mrs. Mwanza and Helen were going to be testing the kids on their knowledge of religion since religious education is a part of the curriculum of Zambian schools. We are by constitution a Christian nation. As a teacher in this nation, I have been somewhat remiss in my teaching of religion and often forget or omit prayers before and after class. I like to think I make up for it by the zeal with which I lead the kids in old Baptist hymns. Nobody can outdo us in Give me that old time religion!

There have been some conflicts. Once when asking why something was the way it was in nature, I got the answer, "Because that's the way God made it." Exhibiting great restraint which I hoped was not obvious, I responded that if that was going to be the level of their education, we should all go home now. For once you use and accept that answer, we cease to learn because it becomes the answer to all questions. We should work therefore to find out why God made things they are.

So I was fully prepared not to have much to do this day of testing on religion. Once at work, however, I found that Helen's class without her. So I thought to stay with them until she arrived. They got restless so I decided to help them review for their impending exam.

Found out they had been studying creation, Adam & Eve, the Garden of Eden, the snake, and in Chinyanja, it was a fig tree, not an apple of which Eve partook, etc. Fortunately I knew the stories and could correct them when they were wrong or were attributing to the Bible what they had gotten from other sources. They started to look it up, when I told them the devil is not mentioned in the Garden of Eden. I told them further that the creation story appears several times in the Bible and they are not the same. Why was that? Did God forget he'd told the story once and then told a different one? "No," was the very firm response. Well the story may have been given to more than one person and in retelling it got changed as stories do. Everyone nodded. So when the Bible came to be written, here were more than one about the same event. The writer felt he could not leave one out, so all were included in different places. Radical!

It seemed an unbelievable revelation that they had some common heritage with the Muslims who they had learned a little about.

After venturing out on thinner and thinner ice, Mrs. Mwanza in the next 'room' in a half whisper across the bookcase divider, asks, "Don't you have the test their on Helen's desk? Give them the test." I realized the review had gone on for some time and I was not just holding the class until Helen came, but I was their teacher for the day.

The test was there and I administered it, asking questions about creation and the number of days and what happened when. So I trust some deity got a tickle over this Unitarian Universalist, evolutionary biologist getting forced into teaching and testing children about Biblical creationism and God's word.

School building report

The new school building is up in the air! Most of the blocks are laid and it is now waiting lintels for the doors and windows.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

Poceza m'Madzulo

2006-07-22T11:37:00.000+01:00

School- End-of-term

Remedial and review work in all classes and subjects in prep for exams. I enjoy the remedial, you can usually see your (their) progress at the end.

School Building Report

As we drove out this morning, the school walls are rising in the air, about chest level. Looking good. A school growing out of the bush!

Poceza m'Medzula

After supper last night, when I was thinking about this blog and what I might say, I was waylaid by several boys wanting a story. Friday night and no homework. There was even a hint that they might read to me but that was just a lure to get me to sit down. The common room was so noisy it was difficult to make myself heard to those next to me. The youngest boys were playing a sort of soccer/hockey on the floor with a toy car as the puck/ball and they used their feet as hockey sticks to make the goal at the other end of the room.

The noise did have the benefit of moving everyone in close. Slowly things quieted down. I was reading (their selection) an African folk tale. Now before coming to Zambia, I had brought every book of African tales I could find/afford and friends had given me more. So the second evening here, I trotted them out, eager to share. No interest, other books were thrust in my lap. "Read this, Uncle Sam." Stories of children in houses with parents, cars, pets, TV, cookies, ice cream and rooms full of junk! Alien stories from an alien culture. Stories I had read to my son. I put my African tales away.

The intro to the first story I read last night by a(n) US author read, "Since ancient times storytelling has been important throughout the great continent of Africa. Long ago people in villages would gather together in the evenings and tell stories... Today African children are just as excited about telling and listening to folk tales as their ancestors." I read this a second time, louder and with more feeling. No noticable effect.

But things were quieting down and we were packed in on the couch. Someone or ones were drapped behind my head and as often happens, curious fingers were cautiously "petting" my unusual hair.

It was different gathering of boys than I was use to, from high school to preschool. When I reached the end, I surpressed my teacherly instincts to check on comprehension. But they asked questions! "Was the man a fool?" "Did his experiences improve his life?" I countered. And so on.

One of the older boys goes for another book, another folk tale! Things are quiet now. Its a story about a lion who takes pity on a starving man and his village. He brings them food, eventually shows them where to hunt. The man becomes ill and the lion visits him daily until he is well. But the lion is never sure of the man's friendship. In the end the man proves false.

Audible sounds of approval from the boys when the lion drives the man off. After a time I am given permission to retire. They can tell when I am tired and they are sensitive to old folks in a way that I am not use to.

Back to my room and the blog and no inspiration. Not until the morning did I question what had happened the night before.

Poceza m'Madzulo came to mind. It refers to an evening, after sunset communal storetelling time. A traditional part of the culture usually done at nights especially during the dry and cold season June - August. So says a book I purchases by that title, but hadn't read much of until this morning. Well it was the right thing, in the right season, with the right bunch of kids.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

One of the mysteries of Africa

2006-07-16T10:07:00.000+01:00

School: Remedial Work

Been spending a couple of hours a day with 6 to 7 students doing remedial work in math. We are concentrating on subtraction. On Friday all but one was doing 4 digit number subtractions.

To start, I have a pile of small stones on the table to visuallize subtraction and we go from there. It is fun to see one of them get it and then ask them to help another.

Should say that we get children with wildly different educational backgrounds. We are always assured that a new child has the minimum required. When Mrs. Mwanza was out and new kids arrived without notice, I did not do careful testing to verify their skills. Later trying to help them bring up their spelling and reading levels, I found they could recite the alphabet but could not recognize most of the letters. Still working on that problem. Coming up on end-of-term.

School: the building

Pace of work on the new building site is picking up. The slab has been poured for the first wing, has cured and we are ready for block laying next week.

Because of the increased activity, Mr. Cheleshe (the builder) and his assistant, Phinnius, have moved into the warehouse/school/(motel?) to have more time on site and less time commuting.

The mixing of the concrete was of interest to me, never seen it mixed on the ground. The gravel and cement are mixed well on the ground in a fairly large amount, then water is added and mixed in portions the size of a wheelbarrow. While that is being delivered, another load is being mixed. And at the end of the day, there is no gray spot of hardened concrete on that spot. One of the mysteries of Africa.

Garden Report.

Garden and weather remain dry. What does rain look like? We badly need a garden hose and a way to attach it to a 2" pipe. Hoses are very expensive. I have been working a couple of afternoons after school, sometimes with a young assistant. Been using some irrigation ditches that would work well had we some hose. Despite all my training, I am still unable to get water to run up hill, although with my eyesight and these glasses, I sometime can acheive the allusion.

I was running around with shovel damming and opening channels, sometimes frantically, when teenage residents come to inspect my work, hands-on-hips. After some silence, I was told authoritatively, what I really needed was some hose-pipe (garden hose). "What a great idea," I said as enthusiastically as I could. "Lets go and get some right now!" Approving nods. "But first I need to know how many days you are willing to go without meals so that we can pay for it." I was left in peace with my work and a promise that they would be working in the garden on the weekend.

Football (soccer)

We may live in a remote place, but the recent World Cup for soccer (check the last page of sport section) was followed closely here and seems to have affected the intensity of our games on the pitch (soccer field). Fortunately no one has been hurt in these heroic efforts.

Our pitch is a clearing free from grass and brush and fairly stubble free. It has natural pole uprights and crossbar for the goal (not unusual for them to colapse from buffeting during a game). I think our pitch is unique in that it has a hole. The ball rolled in during the last game and I noted the player disappeared from view as he went in to retreive it. The origin of that hole is not obvious to me, but I think it was once a small mouse burrow. Someone suspecting what tasty morsels might be found at the end of it went at it with a shovel. The problem is there is no corresponding mound of dirt with which to fill it in. One of the mysteries of Africa.

Blog pressing out of Africa
Sam

Look Sharp

2006-07-08T11:49:00.000+01:00

Foreign Aid to whoever needs it.

I am very appreciative of the care packages that have been sent to this "needy" person to enable him to keep body and soul together. As we all know, chocolate is one of the essential substances required favor this. Not too much, however, of the soul becomes permanently detached.

I want to make you aware of the narrowness of your outlook. You think that here I am in this state of void where somethings just don't occur. Well that is true to some extent, but I feel I must tell you that they do have chocolate here! I don't like to be seen leaving the store with it however. It would do nothing to improve the image of American. Picture this nearly candy free mazungu (derogatory term for a white person) standing in front of the chocolate display with quivering lip and indecisive hand reaching for this one, then that one, unable to make up his mind. Then quickly grabbing several and dropping them into his shopping basket while making for the exit.

At some point he begins to drool in quantities sufficient not to be hidden in his beard. He bolts toward the check out and to the head of the line pushing, shoving women, children, women with children out of the way. Barely through check out, he would begin tearing at wrappers and stuffing his mouth. All this would appall everyone, except for the fact that the papers were thrown on the floor, we are very tolerant of litter bugs here, don't even have a name for them.

But I'm off the point. You look at us here automatically as ones in need, never suspecting that we have things you don't but could probably use. It need not be a one-way street to Africa from US. Why just the other day I was shopping for raisins. When shopping in another country, you tend to read the labels more carefully even though you believe them less. So the ones I selected were pronounced CHOICE grade. But I say to myself, "What else would they put on the label? Mediocre Raisins? Never." Then I saw on the shelf below bags of more raisins with dingy gray labels. Imagine my surprise to see them offered as INDUSTRIAL GRADE raisins.

I am certain that these are not available in your area and would be glad to send you some. Have your raisins been letting you down? Do you find you are having to buy raisins more often than you think you should? Here are raisins that last and last and will stand up to the worst you can do to them.

Now I hear you say you could use some but have no way to deal with industrial quantities. Don't worry, these tough little guys come in handy 200g pocket sized bags. Order yours today.

Pen Pal jitters.

Four of our kids want to correspond with US counterparts and arrangements have mostly been made for this enterprise. Elizabeth showed me her draft letter and asked for help. Suddenly I wondered if these children can communicate, do they have any interests in common? Fourteen-year-old Elizabeth states one of her hobbies is reading and her two favorite books are Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty.
How will this be viewed by US youngsters of that age who are reading at a much higher level than 'those little kids stories'? But that is where we are at here. What Elizabeth didn't say was that she speaks 4 different African languages and is working on her fifth language, English.

Our kids have almost no possessions, no new clothes, no closets full of anything, and rarely see Zambian TV. They don't hang out at malls, have no disposable cash, rarely get to town, see no movies, do all their laundry by hand and iron their own clothes, do most of the house cleaning, cooking, dishwashing and yard work. Will they have anything to share of interest to US kids?

Garden Report.

Our first winter garden is DRY (no rain for weeks). The wild grass fire of las week singed the onions. The bulbs are still green, perhaps they will put out new shoots with a extra water.

Getting water to the plants and having someone to do it are a problem. Water comes to the garden via 2" metal pipe. A very stiff plastic pipe connects to this with a recycled midsection of a plastic bottle and allows some limited ability to direct water flow. The plastic pipe is hard to maneuver and crushes any plants that it might get dragged across. At least 3 person job. Any inadvertent pulling and the whole systems becomes detached and has to be reassembled.

Phillip designed the layout so there are ditches that water will run down and with little dams we can direct water to much, but not all the garden. We have used a small drip kit as well.

We've been having clear weather this week, which means cool nights and hot days. Winds dry things out. Earlier some unsupervised workmen cleared the natural windbreak ground cover, but on the other hand, this might have kept the fire further away from the garden.

Garden Labor Recruitment.

We are on vacation from school for a week. At the start the boys convinced me to remove the old soccer ball from the school building before we locked it up last Friday so we'd have it to play with. I kept it in my room. Bobsi comes and checks it out with solemn promises he would return it when through. Evening came but no ball. More promises to return it, but no ball. Time passes and predictably comes the request for the new ball (the one that stays inflated). "Why" I ask, "would I do that when you've let the old go missing? Bring the old one back and we'll talk. No luck, lots of grumbling, no looking for old ball, then a crowd of nine boys kneeling (that's how we do it in Zambia, not my idea) in my very small bedroom pleading, "Please sir".

So they want the ball and we need the garden watered and weeded. Two hours gardening work earns you two hours with the new ball. Recruitment completed.

Growing a new school building.

The image of growing a building from the parched earth was enhanced by the method used of getting the soil packed down around the foundation and in prep for the concrete slab. A section of railroad rail with welded handle is the tamper. But they also use lots of water. So it looks to my quirky mind as if they are watering the building perhaps to get it to grow.

New Houses.

The giant anthill has all but disappeared into a large pile of red pressed earth blocks ready for building.

Big trip to town.

We had to take our sacks of maize into the mill in Lusaka and get it hammered into mealy meal for nshima and porridge. The boys helped get the bags into the back of our new vehicle, but now we have lots of room to spare. Space for 6 boys. So we load them in and all head for town. "When were any of you last in town?" I ask. Lots of head scratching. Many months. We drop off the maize and have at least an hour to kill. "What do you think Phillip? What's in order, where should we go?" The bakery in the grocery store at the mall. Cream filled donuts with special sprinkles. We eat them in the mall courtyard and look at the fish in the large central pool. Our boys look pretty scruffy and dusty when taken suddenly into town. We get lots of looks from neatly dressed people with clean kids in nice clothes and new-looking shoes.

We vow to clean them up next time. "Boys, you'll have to look sharp if you want to come into town again." says Phillip. The next day, Bobsi confidently shows me his armful of clean ironed clothes, stating that he is going to 'look sharp' and will be ready to go to the mall today!

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

Sun

2006-07-01T13:31:00.000+01:00

Sun

All the cattle are resting in the fields,
The trees and plants are growing,
The birds flutter above the marshes,
Their wings uplifted in adoration,
And all the sheep are dancing,
All winged things are flying,
They live when you have shone on them.
--Ancient Egyptian poem to the sun

While reading this recently at sunrise, I wondered if I was as many miles away as years from where and when these words were first given to another African dawn.

Washboards

I have been receptive, in tune as it were, and received the Word from time to time. But God has a sense of humor. I think one reason (S)He created humans was to have a good laugh.

As Noan got the Word to build an ark, I got a clear message to collect washboards. Silly you say, well no more so than Noah's project (if you don't know the end of the story). Anyway I dutifully collected old washboards, some of gleaming metal and others worn dull with the printing mostly washed away. Others were made of corragated glass with some rough surfaces guarenteed to take that spot out or remove the stained fabric all together.

Living in small apartments, this was not easy, but things we are called to do seldom are.

So why was I to collect washboards? I have always had a washing machine and/or lived near a laundromat. Well it wasn't until I arrived in Africa and been required to wash all my laundry by hand with a bar of soap, that I knew the reason. The only problem being that I am separated by several thousand miles from my scrub boards. And I have one that would fit in a suit case.

In my rush to get here, I must have been terribly inattentive, or perhaps (S)He just needed a laugh.

The School Building

What I have been referring to as the 'school building' is really the first phase of the project, the first of two wings. We will be using one wing while the second is being constructed.

The poured foundation was done without forms using only the carefully dug trench. The foundation blocks that are laid on top are up to grade now and curing. These blocks made on site are much like what you'd see in US. Dimensions are metric but look the same as those at home in size and color, concrete gray. The solid pressed blocks that will go on top of the foundation are Zambian dirt red, which is what they are made of.

School News

Head teacher returns after long illness: Mrs. Mwanza is back on the job. I have been subbing for her. She is still a little shaky and tires easily, but I am around to help if needed.

In a very few minutes back in class, she assessed where the children had improved and where they were in need of more work. Generally she was pleased with their improved reading skills and multiplication and spelling capabilities. However, she pointed out that they were substandard in subtraction. How did the sub miss subtraction?

A week ago, one of the students brought in a head molded in clay, natural clay. It was nicely done and humerous as he had made a pair of glasses out of wire for it. He told me he had gotten the clay near his home and he just sets he work out in the sun to harden it. This week we arranged for him to bring in enough, a small plastic shopping bag full so we could all work with it. The hard part was keeping them out of it until Art Class started. We all had fun, one student made a team of oxen with a cart, another made a helicopter complete with landing skids made from grass. We finally got the last of the clay off the tables Friday befor locking up.

Zambian Winter

The winter continues cold and cloudy. On clear days the sun keeps us tolerably comfortable, but on windy cloudy days it's cold. The consumption of tea is way up. Our drafty (only the largest windows have glass) unheated school is really cool.

Last year when they were using grass shelters, they cancelled school for a week because of the cold. Its seems they up and took the tropics away without asking me and the coldest month is yet to come.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

No More Room

2006-06-22T13:17:00.000+01:00

We got to the point of getting lots of good pictures and Phillip got them onto the computer. So this blog was to premier our photos. Several trips to town to different email cafes did not result in any success. We never have a lot of time to divote to this project so we are alway under a time contraint to get it done and get out. So maybe pictures nex time.

The school building
The school is having its foundation poured. I must keep reminding myself that this is not the desecration of my meditation site, but will soon be the hallowed ground of an institution of learning. It has become too active a place for my predawn readings, what with workmen calling out, "Good morning, Mr. Sam." Perhaps I have embued the area with some wisdom from my early a.m. ponderings. Well, as the sun rose each morning, my shadow did fall across that very place. Surely it has been ‘touched’ with… something.

Work with SOS kids: algebra and geometry
I go to bed tired these nights. After a full day of school that ends at 4, I get to work with the SOS kids at 5 and help them with remedial reviews and homework in algebra and geometry. Short break until supper, then immediate demands for reading to younger children and kids in our school with problems.

Testing
Twice a week, my class gets tested in math and spelling. This week anyone with a combined score of 180 or higher in math and spelling got that most coveted of prizes: a pencil! I am out 3

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam

No

2006-06-17T12:43:00.000+01:00

In some hidden valley

2006-06-10T10:43:00.000+01:00

On one of our runs into Lusaka, Phillip, our all-around-do it all person and driver, was telling me about his commitment to Chisawasha. As an ophan himself, having lost both his parents in a short period and left with younger sylings to care for, he discribed it for me: "You have no one to help you, no one who cares, it feels like you are lost in some hidden valley."

In my meditative reading yesterday came across the definition of a visitor as one somewhere else than his/her place of belonging. Well thats me, I thought... But then two unrelated things happened on Friday:

First:
In the morning, in class, Phillip brings me my mail, he'd been to town. First time I got it delivered to classroom. Got a letter from Betty Postle written from 2nd Grade classroom of Freeville School in NY. The sationery was from the recycle box in that room. During break (recess) I read Betty's comments in my classroom on the contrast between the two schools. I could envision the Freeville School and compare to our architectual equivalent of a Mexican jail, complete with rebars over doors and small high clearstory windows. (The stone pile which completed the picture, was recently removed.) Freeville seemed a very long way away...

Second:
That same afternoon I was at the spiffyToyota Dealership in Lusaka, trying to pick up a new car (our current vehicle in good Montana fashion is being held together by baling wire. Long awaited Canadian funds slowly but finally found their way down (another) wire to a Lusaka Bank. The dealership had the car for a long time in anticipation of this arrival of wherewithall to trade for said wheels. Only one slight modification (seat installation) was necessary before delivery. The call came that the car was ready. Finally! However on the way, received another call saying the car was not ready. Phillip and I continued to the Toyota source. Many appologies, long explainations of why the simple seat installation was not possible and could not be done. About the third time throught this I explained to the Zambian Asst Mgr. that I now had a grasp of his problem, but he seemed not to appreciate our problem: No Functional Car. Perhaps his first priority was to solve our problem and then he could solve their problem, mah vehla? (Chinyanja: do you understand?) I had not been aware of changing languages, but the Asst Mgr was aware and straightened himself in his chair.

So the question from these incidents has caused me to wonder, where is my place of belonging? Here? or there? or more frightening, neither place.

Upshot at the dealership which had no loaners for us to use, came up with a nice double cab pick up. Our car will be ready in a week or two.

Anne Turner (former CU grad in Veg Crops whose degree work was in Zambia) and is now living in Lusaka with her husband (orchardist) Ngoli, finally paid us a visit and a consult. Encouraged us to get drip irrigater. Our banana trees (altho green and alive) are starved for water, for example.

Mr. Cheleshe newly contructed block making machine is now in operation. It makes four concrete blocks at a time. It doesn't just make them, it lays them on the ground. Reminds me of a toy chicken I once had as a child, you would press it on the back and it would squat and lay an egg. With this machine its blocks, not eggs. It takes several days for the blocks to 'cure' before they can be put in the foundation. That machine's operation had me jumping up and down. Not been excited about a machine in a long time.

Had an occasion to visit the local hospital. Kids are put two in a bed, unless you pay extra. Walking up to the the building, its seemed to look comfortingly like a hospital and it wasn't til we got to the front step that I saw the two deep sink holes in the concrete which you had to get around before mounting the stairs. No signs or barriers. The first hospital I've visited that had its very own patient making system right at its front door.

Your olfactory information goes to a more ancient part of the brain than vision or hearing and seems to bring back 'memories' that are more deeply buried. I came out of my room and was hit with one of those. It was an illegal odor of smoke from the '60s. Where was that coming from? Sort of made me relaxed. I questioned Kathe and felt dumb by her answer. Hemp is used a lot as cordage in Africa and one of the most common in regards to our operation, is the loose 'sacks' that the charcoal comes in. Someone had used the cordage to start the fire, creating that memory.

Children are making progress in math, reading and spelling. I test them a couple times a week, so tests are familiar. The times tables are given fast enough that counting on the fingers will not get you the answer. I have had a couple of students get 90's and 100's. If you get perfect score on both math and spelling, you win the most coveted prize: A PENCIL.

Blog pressing Out of Africa,
Sam

Way to start the day

2006-06-03T10:14:00.000+01:00

Recent morning reading, while waiting for the sun:

".... it is helpful to visualize the mind as a tower of windows. Sadly, many people remain trapped at the one window, looking out every day at the same scene in the same way. Real growth is experienced when you draw back from that one window, turn, and walk around the inner tower of the soul and see all the different windows that await your gaze. Through these different windows, you can see new vistas of possibility, presence, and creativity. Complacency, habit, and blindness often prevent you from feeling your life. So much depends on the frame of vision-- the window through which you look." J. O'Donohue Anam Cara

Some excitement for the dry season. Friday morning, Kathe comes out to the school and gets both teachers out of class to let us know there is a brush fire approaching. Not uncommon to smell smoke in the air, one of our neighbors has been burning almost daily. The brush grows fairly close to the school building. The concrete blocks and metal frame work (no external wood) should not be damaged. The only flammable structures are the two latrines, they are surrounded by grass walls, located olfactorally at a comfortable distance from the school building. So I was concerned about when the children had to "go" that they not get caught out there.

Light ashes were coming down around us, but never really saw flames, crackling sound was audible. Fortunately a road acted as a fire barrier. Children seemed unconcerned. They are much more interested in a stranger walking by.

A slab of concrete has been laid for the new concrete 4 block press, now on site. The slab will hold the press and give an area for the blocks to cure. This machine was built by Mr. Cheleshe. It will make foundation blocks for the new buildings and is electrically operated. We're moving up.

This WEEKS' FOOD SECTION:

Every day I eat supper with the kids. Usually I eat what they eat. They only real difference is in how we eat it.

I have a knife and fork at my place, the children have none. I cut a slice of nshima with my knife and with a fork, I take the nshima and dip it into what ever sauce we have (sauce the beef, chicken, or fish was cooked in or beans). I also eat the cooked vegies with a fork (except I have refused to eat cooked okra with a fork, slips around too much and produces those never ending mucous strands that like to nestle in ones beard, spoon is necessary).

The children have no utensils. With their hands, they take and form a wad of nshima into 1 1/2 inch ball, then deftly press their thumb into it making a thumb-sized depression. Now the nshima has become a small edible scoop which picks up sauce, vegies, even okra. It is also handy for wiping a plate or bowl clean.

So for several months I have resisted their encouragement to eat like a native. My first attemptes were half hearted. For some reason last night, I was more inspired or they were more persuasive. The stories about how my mother had discouraged such behavior were dismissed. So I laid fork and knife aside.

I grabbed a piece of nshima and began kneading it in my hand. I dropped it because it was hot! Finally got it into a ball with much help and a chorus of instructions from all around the table. Stuck in my thumb and then tried to corral some beans in my makeshift 'cup'. No luck on my first try. My nshima ball was too large. A small ball worked better, actually got some beans in my mouth. Later, even some slippery okra got transferred.

But the ratio was all off, I'd run out of nshima long before I'd finish my beans and okra. So I ended the meal as I started with the usually utensils but with my hand covered in half dried sticky cooked maize meal. Here you are not just what you eat, but how you eat it.

from the blog press:
Sam

What is a Chisawasha Kid?

2006-05-27T10:26:00.000+01:00

Recently, a couple of the kids asked if they could have pen pals in US. I set out to comply but then realized that correspondents in US should have some idea with whom they are writing. I was surprised at what came out and thought perhaps you might be interested as well.

What is a Chisawasha kid?

They live in the country, even though they are about 10 km from Lusaka. They do not get to town, do not visit shopping malls, do not go to movies. About 7 of older students go off campus to SOS School. Kids do go to neighboring farms to buy eggs, for example.

They have few possession of their own beyond their clothes. These are doled out from the warehouse. They have some choice in what they get.

They do not have their own room. They don't have much room. Bunk beds for 6 are in a room that might seemed cramped to a single,typical US teen. Extremely limited closet space.

These kids work every day. Outdoors gardening, sweeping the front yard, hoeing, watering, etc. Indoors they clean the house, sweeping the place out 3 times a day. On Saturday morning, they are out about sun up and work till breakfast at 8:30.

They do all their own laundry, clothes and linens, and ironing all by hand, no clothes washers. Out with a bucket and bar of soap. Clothes are dried by laying them out on the grass. There is one ironing board and iron for each house. Often you must stand in line.

They do meal prep and cooking, serving, washing by hand and clean up. They have no junk food snacks, no sodas, no candy bars. When off visiting relatives they sometimes come back with a few pieces of candy. Snack might be maize on the cob, boiled or roasted, ground nuts, piece of boiled squash, rarely an orange. Their diet is limited to about 9 standard meals of meat or beans, cooked leafy veg and tons of nshima.

Almost no TV, no teen mags, few newspapers, no phone, no parties, no dates.

They are generally happy, smiling kids with few conflicts that rarely rise to mother solution level.

They are rebellious teens from time to time. Four of them ran off from the school yard area during break (recess). They heard me as they ran that they would not return to school today. So when they returned I got them back home. only to have 3 of them run off again. I let them know that would be another day off from school. This time I walked them back to the mothers with a full report and suggestion that they badly needed some kind of special work.

That evening, 4 teens came to my room, kneeling on the floor (we're big on kneeling before elders here) begging my forgiveness. The only thing I could think of was "Oh I wish my son could be here to see this!" I said the penalty would stay, that I didn't like denying them school, afterall I came here to teach. But they had done all they did in front of the wide-eyed younger kids who think the rules mean something. Therefore ....

Small drip irrigation system is being tested in garden (thanks to Louise), my beets are up.

African Wildlife Report:

Yesterday, Phillip coming out of warehouse/school saw a snake crossing the path (workmen had unsuccessfully pursued this one and had left their sticks around. Phillip grabs a stick and with Kathe right behind him runs out and nails it. So much for all my lectures on being kind to snakes. Well this snakes was 68 inches long (I measured it) and with a book Kathe runs for, we classify it as a black necked spitting cobra. Well lets be kind to snakes as long as they don't spit.

The non-expectorating blog presser
Sam

Perhaps next year.

2006-05-20T09:30:00.000+01:00

Usually coming back after greeting the rising sun, the road is empty except for my elongated shadow, stretching out 50 yards ahead of me down the dusted track.

One morning this week, however, I encountered a man, woman and small child. The man was carrying a heavy load on his head while the child carried an umbrella akwardly since its length and his shortness required holding his hands in the air to keep it from dragging. We exchanged Good mornings. The 40'ish mother asked me if I worked at this place, gesturing back from where they had come. "Yes," I said and braced myself for her request. She would like her child to go to school. Would I permit him?

Several times in several ways I say that I do not make those decissions, I just teach. When I'm done, "Can he come to school?" Again I explain that I can not say and tryto reinforce the reasons she must have already been given. We are full, we're in mid-year, would be difficult for the child. "How old is he?" "Five years old. Next year?" "Perhaps next year," I say. And we continue on our ways, they into the bright new sun, I following my dark shadow.

This dusty road has recorded all the recent history of comings and goings: various sizes of bare feet, many patterned shod feet, wee clawed paws, bird tracks with abrupt beginnings and endings, meticulous fine little trenches curving back on themselves left by some wondering un id'ed worm??, and one car track.

I try thinking about the students I have instead of the ones we don't. I recently got three new ones. The youngest can say and print the alphabet in an odd mix of capital and small letters, but has no individual letter recognition past a b c d e. Can barely add. Meanwhile the rest of the class is working on reading, spelling and writing as well as multiplication.

The dry season garden is mostly complete. I planted some beets last week. We will try a new tomato variety that will be ready soon.

African Wildlife Section
Came back from town last Saturday and noted a large area had been burned. Burning seems common at his time of year. I inquired into this "agricultural" practice only to be met with puzzlement. "We burned the area because a large snake had been seen!"

Going out one moring again to meet the sun, one of the mothers earnestly started talking about lions. My questions didn't bring any clarification except to learn there are lions out there, this message delivered with serious expression. I tell her I will keep an eye out for them.

As I walk out, I reflect on the fact the Zambia is a "Christian Nation" by constitution. Therefore I surmise that I have little to fear. Surely those beasts have heard of Daniel and David, not to mention Sam(son). They must know there place.

Learned later a place a few kilometers away has "wild" game which included four lions. Someone had accidentally let them out, two have been retrieved. All this happened over a week ago, not current news for morning leg stretchers.

This Weeks Food Section:
More on nshima: there is always more.

In making nshima, you start with maize that has been put through a hammer mill producing a mixture of fine powder and grit. This is called mealy-meal. So you sift this into the powdery portion that is boiled (20 min.) for nshima, while the gritty portion which resembles our "corn meal" (only it is white, not yellow) is used in making morning porrage.

But you say, your tastes are a bit more exotic. Entering the house via the kitchen a few days ago, I was aware I'd seen something new, different out on the porch. I peered out the window. My eyesight is not what it used to be, but my imagination has more than made up for it. Benson was laboring over a 1 1/2 gal. pot full of whitish-gray blurred forms -- African Rock Lobsters??

I rushed out to check, whitish-gray FURRY forms of large fat mice, belly up waiting to be gutted. Not much left when you take out the insides.

For those that are curious, you don't bother to skin these little ones. Just boil in salt water and dry them by the fine and/or sun. My research interest ended here, I do not know how or what happens after that. If I should accidentally come upon the answer, I hope that it is with some warning.

I must say earlier, I was feeling rather smug with how easily and quickly I learned to eat a Zambian diet. But I am sad to say it is not that simple. I find that I must keep "learning" to like it and there have been some reversals.

However, weekly visits to my favorite Shoprite grocery store help fill in the gaps. Been eating Star-King apples. I seem to remember that these were developed at CU. If so, fun to think I had to come to Zambia to eat my first Star-Kings and these from So. Africa.

Signs of Lusaka:

Cha Cha Cha Builders Supplies
Stockist of - Electrical & Building Materials.
[the checkout line is fun]
right across the street:

Mysterious Hardware and Electrical
[you don't have to know how it works, just buy it]

This is Sam of the Blog Press saying,
"I don't know how this works, I hope you will buy it."

House Mothers

2006-05-13T09:22:00.000+01:00

After supper one evening, Lazaro brought me a book to read. Fairly common event. Then he surprised me with some math homework, not usual. Suddenly everyone huddles around so tightly that we can not work. I send them away several times with the promise that I will help them after Larazo and I are done. Many distractions, noisy, talking, singing. Its hard for me to concentrate and hold this young mathematicians attention. Louder noise, Benson and two other boys seem to be wrestling, no they are helping him to sit on the couch opposite us. Two times six is ?? carry the one.... Taines (house mother) arrives. Benson's leg is hurt from a fall. I can't see any cut or scrape from my vantage point. Now we add it all up to get the answer. With help, Benson stands up, but can't put any weight on one leg which he holds bent. Next problem, 112 x 37. Benson colapses back on the couch. No, Lazaro, what is 3 x 7 plus one we carried? Suddenly Taines grabs Benson's lame leg and pulls him quickly onto the floor, while he hallers, "No Momie, No!" Math no longer a concern. She forceably straightens the leg. Benson writhes in pain. She then grabs a couch cushion and presses it down on the knee and leg, holding it there. I quickly explain to a transfixed Lazaro that this is a treatment for a displaced knee. Benson ends his protests. Two boys help him up. I get him 'Kathe's cane' some relic left in my room from previous occupant. With some direction in Chinyanga, he hobbles into nearby bathroom. Taines had told him to soak it in cold water (found out later). Now where was that homework?

About 1/2 hr later, our invalid emerges still using the cane and seemingly in some pain, for about 3 steps, then he smiles brightly and steps out briskly waving the cane, knee as good as new. I now refer to Taines as Dr. Taines. I don't know what the qualifications are for house mothers at Chisawasha, but these women know their stuff!

I have other duties than teaching. Every so often I get to go to the bank when we need money. At first it made me feel important, imagine walking into a bank and coming out with 8,000,000 (Kwacha). But this and the long lines grew old in a hurry and I saw people going out with stacks of money up to their elbows, so I am still a pauper.

In another long, slow bank line, I fell into conversation with the young (20's) man ahead of me. We were soon in easy exchange as if old friends. Zambians are friendly. After about 15 minutes I learned that he is planning to get married on June 24. So I get into my wedding planning/marriage counseling mode. (Recently gone through this with Phillip and Maria). As we near the head of the line, Jeffrey turns to me and says, "I'd be honored if you would attent our wedding," and proceeds to write down the particulars. He starts to hand them to me. "Wait," I say "you forgot the most important bit of information." He looks puzzled. "I don't know the bride's name." The lucky woman is Jane Kalwandu and her mother is currently in NYC. We are not sure she will be able to make it.

A friend of his comes up and returns his cell phone. He flips it open and shows me a picture of Jane and Jeff.

Later wondering at what happened and why, I remember him saying that he was orphaned at an early age. I knew I came to work with orphanes, I had no idea what their ages would be.

More This Weeks' Food Section next week about (guess what?) nshima.
Addition reports on another Block Press, this one makes 4 at a time, don't miss it.

From Sam and the Blog Press

lemba vambiri

2006-05-06T10:25:00.000+01:00

"Light is Generous
...If you had never been to the world and never known what a day was, you couldn't possibly imagine how the darkness breaks, how the mystery and color in a new day arrives. Light is incredibly generous, but also gentle. When you attend to the way the dawn comes, you learn how light can coax the dark. The first fingers of light appear on the horizon, and ever so deftly and gradually they pull the mantle of darkness away from the world. Quietly before you is the mystery of a new dawn, the new day." -- John O'Donohue, Anam Cara.

I entered the class space (not a room), an area roughly defined by an assortment of bookcases and cabinets and I saw the assigned spelling words on the board for Wednesday. What the hell should I do, no one could spell them, I was quite sure: grass, plant, seed, line, row, etc.

Why test them today just to give them all zero? ...But these kids are smart. The problem seemed to define itself-- they don't know how to study!

I had done a little with a few individuals, so had an idea of what seemed to work. What to do, how to do it? When they arrived, I started calling them one by one to the board to writing one of the assigned words for the day, soon confirmed that we were in virgin territory despite study periods devoted to learning them. So I said in my most dramatic voice to Sara who finally got her word right after much help, "Would you like to learn to spell a new word?" "Yes"

I wrote the word THINK on the board and pronounced it in a large stage voice. "Now" I said "you write the word, oh write it again, again, copy it again, once more, again please. Then I swept up to the board and erased everything. "Now" I said like a magician doing his trick, "Sara, please write the word THINK" and magically Sara did! Everyone clapped. "Teacher, me! Teacher, me!" everyone was ready. We quickly went through all the spelling words.

"Hey, do you think this will work for the times tables? We tried out 6x8=48 and it worked, then 9x9=81 worked as well. "Wait," I said, "how long does this magic last? Sara, spell the word THINK." Sara confidently calls out T-H-I-N-K, more applause.

While doing this, I become aware of a repetitive phase in Chinyanga from the on-lookers. Had no idea what they were saying, but I tried to imitate it. Much laughter and great fun correcting the teacher's mispronouciation: lemba vambiri, lemba vambiri.

We start chanting it as I give another student another word and I dance/march around the room in time with it. What a difference a phrase makes, student repetitively writing a new word. Then I would stop, erase and discover it was learned.

What did the magic words mean? lemba vambiri loosely translates to: write a lot (of them).

I accomplished in one hour more than the previous 2 weeks combined. And those weeks were a drag/draining. But this day was energizing, we were all sad when it was over.

THE WEEKS' FOOD SECTION:

At lunch one day, I learned we were having Booga Booga again that evening. I 'says' to myself "Can you eat another oily fish even if they decapitate it before serving? The general consensous came back "No". But I am ever so much more tactful with the house mother. She suggests I try half of her large home-grown avacado and bread instead. No fish and avacado too! Talk about a win-win situation.

That evening, I eagerly responded to the call "Uncle Sam your food is ready." Then what a shock uncovering my plate >Booga Booga<, a ton of nshima and a good portion of cooked cabbage. Was there some mistake? I needed only to remember that the mother is not the server. My avacado was in the fridge. "Could I have a small onion, please." "We have no onions tonight" Imagine a kitchen with no onions... So its my raw garlic again, and hot tomato sauce and a very special small fresh cucumber I've been hording for just such an occassion. I combine all the ingredience in a bowl and ate them with the nshima and cabbage. I told the kids if they saw me crying, it was not because I was sad.

Imagine my surprise one morning recently on my walk to my sunrise meditation to encounter the most fearsome African animal I have ever seen. A lion, leapard would have nothing on the looks of this beast. Long curved ughly teeth as wicked as any dynosaur. Fortunately for me this one was dead and only 5 inches long if you count the 2 inch " fattish tail". Some African shrew. Later I pointed it out to Phillip who brightly says, "I know just what it is, we call it ___ ____ ____*. I don't know how it works but they can not cross the road, they always die first." And here was the irrefutable evidence. "*Their name translates to "can not cross the road".

I got a letter, a letter in the mail, a hold-in-your-hand with a stamp letter from the Postles. You too could send one, the address (again) is:
Sam Weeks, c/o Chisawasha Children's Home, PO Box 34941, Lusaka, Zambia
Try it, I'll like it.

This is Sam and the blog press from the otherside of everything, the road, the Atlantic, NJ.

There is no shortage of good days.

2006-04-29T09:26:00.000+01:00

It has become my habit of late trying to keep on an even keel, to rise before the sun and observe the cay create itself and to then meditate on some food for the soul, my favorite:
These is no shortage of good days.
It is good lives that are hard to come by.
A life of good days lived in the senses is not enough.
The life of sensation is the life of greed, it requires more and more.
The life of the spirit requires less and less,
time is ample and its passage sweet. --Annie Dillard

Speaking of passage of time, 30% of my days in Zambia are spent, and we have definitely changed seasons now. Temperatures are cooler. And the children have a new look. To gird against these cold temperatures (what would be delightful Ithaca srping weather) our warehouse outlet (stored contents of the last donated container shipment) had our students lined up trying on sweaters, jerseys, jackets, etc. Several of the older boys are looking very preppy in sweaters and slacks and seem prone to standing around to be seen.

I am very comfortable with this season except for the fact that everyone thinks I must be cold. They insisted that I take a sweat shirt.

Classes have started again for another term. Monday, May 1st is Labour Day here, another holiday.

Our dry season vegetable garden will be completed this week. But cabbage and rape seeds have already germinated in 2 days. Rape is source of green leaves. ZAMseed is a seed and nursery company just a short distance away (everything is ZAM here, ZAMbeef, ZAMtel, ZAMchick is our KFC, ZAMwasha is laundry soap, etc.) and Phillip who is managing the garden as ordered seedlings of toms, egg plant and onions, ready this week. Payment for these items will include a bag of chicken manure, we'll supply from another local busness, selling chickens and eggs. Keep the goods and good things moving.

The blocks from the block press are beyond counting, 5000 maybe.

Good news. Been busy and have all but completed my next book, a Zambian cook book: 101 Ways To Enjoy Maize Meal. It includes details such as taking a calendar and marking off the next 101 days. Then boiling the hell out of your maize meal each of those days for supper. Remarkably, this time can be cut vertually in half by serving it for lunch too, and even more amazingly reduced to a third by making porrage out of it for breakfast.

In it I reveal newly discovered secrets such as how do cooks deliver that special quantity of nshima that covers half you plate? There is no serving spoon that large. I slipped through the kitchen at just the critical moment the other night and learned how its done. You use another dinner plate!

My thanks again to all of you who continue to pay to keep me away. Of all the things that can plague the mind in a place like this, its nice not to have to worry about money.

Fresh from the blog press,
Sam

Last days of vacation

2006-04-22T10:14:00.000+01:00

The children continue to garden and some of those off visiting relatives are returning.

Our car has died so all trips to town are via the little blue buses a topic worth a couple of blogs

Before the car gave up on its gas/oil consumption, thats it, it died of consumption, before that I made it out to the OTHER location. Some property, larger and further away from Lusaka. The name of the place is "Chicawasha Farm" appropriately. Its current owner is one of the most wonderful Zambian, African, Human people I have ever met, Mr. Mumbe. He is smallish, I would say an elfin man in stature and in spirit. He must be in or near his 70's. Slight signs of greying hair. I think it sums him up best to say that a few years ago he had a stroke and theives stole a portion of his electrical line. He realized he could sit around brooding about this until he had a heart attack, so instead he enrolled again in school and has just completed his MS. His thesis is on Street Children in Zambia, a problem that almost no one else is paying any attention to. I could have listened to him for hours, hope to spend more time with him.

His son accompanied us on a tour of the farm. Now you would expect that after about an hour of touring that I would have seen most everything. This is not the case. The reason would be obvious to you if you'd been there. How do you get a look at land that is covered to a great extent with 3 meter high grass? The roads/paths were overgrown and driving was a risky matter of faith that the path was really there in the direction you were feeling your way down via car. I was torn between trying to help the driver see through the impenitrable grass and looking at the wonderful insects brought down on the windshield and we drove through. There were a few open areas and scattered trees. The tall grass is a sign of fertile soil. Some of it has been farmed. We returned to the house and Mr. Mumbe had us pick guavas from trees in the yard before he'd let us go. He is enthusiastic about the possibility of us building a high school there that would specialize in training of sustainable agriculture.

School starts again on Monday. House has been pleasantly quiet, I realize now that Bobsi is back from his vacation. He alone brings up the energy level in the place about 50%.

Block press presses on. However, Mr. Cheleshe had been in contact with Kathe and he is going tobring out his own self designed and build, block press. It makes 4 concrete foundation block at a time, electricall operated. Look out!

The Blog Press and
Sam

Lastest from the Blog Press

2006-04-15T10:45:00.000+01:00

The block press continues to pump out the blocks, too numerous to count. Doing between 300 to 500 a day. There is a resident nesting (ground nesting) owl very near, perhaps too near the school site. The workmen walk by it many times during the day. It is setting on 4 roundish, pingpong like eggs. This must be a good omen for an institution of learning, even the Smithsonian has an owl as its symbol, logo.

Students still on vacation. Several have go to visit relatives.

Good news maybe. We have a PO Box number. Does it work? How will we know if you don't use it? Address: Sam Weeks, C/0 Chisawasha Childrens' Home, PO Box 34941, Lusaka, Zambia. Hellen the other teacher was telling one of the students that she once had a pen pal in US. How did it work? I questioned her. How long did it take for letters to arrive? No more than 3 weeks, she said. Make sure the news is fresh before you send it.

Had a glass of mkhoyo the other day on a hot afternoon. It wasn't like I had a choice, it was thrust on me. Its made from the same meal that nshima comes from. Maize meal and water, boiled, if it gets too thick, add more water, then let mkhoyo roots steep in this for several days (oh yes you start with several gallons). I was assured by every one that there: no alcohol in it. None. One shouldn't keep it for more than 6 days, however. It was a gray merky drink, nothing visually appealing. It had all the wonderful flavor of working sour mash (for any of you that have tasted that), the only saving factor is you add sugar before drinking.

Here's to you, have a happy Easter
Pressing from the the Blog Press
Sam

Growing a School Building

2006-04-11T09:19:00.000+01:00

The water pipe is installed and the Block Press is putting out the blocks. I got to make one, I pointed out that I was hefter than any of the workmen, and my added weight should make a better, firmer block, since you reach up and pull down like hell on the bar to compress the block. The workmens feet leave the ground. So I swung my weight around, so to speak.

Production yesterday was 500 blocks, so I guess we are at over 1000 at the minute. The blocks are a rich red color, which is the same as the soil from which they are made. The school is growing block, by beautiful red block.

School vacation for 2 wks. What do kids do on vacation? Much planting of flowers, landscaping and planting of grass. We don't bother with grass seed here. A large bag of what looked like a small version of quack grass appeared. They were soaked in water and then planted just as you would quack grass if you ever wanted to plant it. Some fruit trees, but mostly flowers, place looks more like a nursery. Also much grass cutting. I can now see the school/warehouse easily from the house. It was mostly obscured by 6-8ft high grass.

What does a teacher do on vacation in Zambia? The US Embassey keeps the same hours as school, so no way to visit them until now. Ah the US Embassey, that final refuge when far from home. Kathe had confided that when first here for a couple of months, she would go there just to hear Americans talk. So I went with some expectations of at least friendly voices. Getting into a max. security prison would have been more friendly than approaching and entering the embassey. No cameras, no cellphone, etc. etc. I did not have to undergo a strip search, but psychologically it felt like one. No one from the US was in sight. Had to surrender my threatening 2"bladed boy scout knife. Everyone behind 1/2" thick plate glass with a pass thru wide enough for a passport and supposedly for voice communication. I had not come to converse with Zambians through a waist high slit.

I was allowed to walk unescorted to the next building, but the guards at both locations kept an eye on me. Had a terrible urge to cut and run and hide behind a secruity camera in the shrubbery.

In the next building I joined a long line of Zambians applying for entry, I think. People who have been waiting a long time without much hope of anything happening have a certain look on their faces. I got in line. But was quickly pulled out. I'd tried to fit in. Was directed to the far window. More plate glass with slit limiting communications. "What are you here for?" an officious Zambian demanded. I wanted to say I was not sure, but insolence, impertenance are probably crimes in a US embassey. "To register, I guess," I replied hesitantly but loud enough to penitrate the barrier. A 5x8 card was thrust out to me, it took 3 trys to get the bic pen over the through the stepped slot.

The seats were comfortable.

Filled out front and back and returned to the now unattended window, shoved backthe card and fiddle the pen over and waited. Zambians have a unique way of looking at paper work. You feel like you're an author whose topic is quantum mechanics tied up in the string theory. Such intent scrutiny with passing shadows of deep questioning and doubt. I had left one line blank! Not hard for this gifted physist to finesse, I thought. More puzzlement then finally begrudging acceptance. The woman left with my material. Then I was unprepared for the one American, modestly dressed woman, whose canned conversation welcomed me, "hope you never need us, number one reason for being deported is working for pay in Zambia. Its marvelous work you are doing." and it was over. Had been no movement amoung tose present when I had come. Tried not to make eye-contact as I left. "Marvelous work"??, was she referring to my literary efforts on the registration card? I felt I should be back and really apply myself.

All my possessions were returned and I was released outinto the fresh air and sunshine to be among truely friendly, welcoming Zambians.

Before vacation, we've been working on testing, in math and spelling mostly. They have not taken tests as such and required some learning. They sit cheek by jowl at tables and are used to looking at eachothers work. Since they do work at the blackboard, I know pretty much their skill levels. So when the poorest math student turns in a perfect paper, I was impressed, there were not that many perfect papers. I turned his paper over and gave him the three easiest problem he had just done to do at my desk. It was a puzzlement that he could not get the right answers to any of them.

So they are learning to take tests. Crib notes in their nearby notebooks, on laps, on hands, copying from convenient neighbors, etc, Need to mention one more student that kept his spelling test well hidden. Half way through the exam, I asked to see his paper. What should appear, but the completed test. I learned to change the order of the words on spelling tests and I practiced my "cheating" lecture once again as I dramatically and distainfully crushed the offending paper in my fist.

But I was rewarded by those who did well. Got the most beautiful, proud smile of one of the younger boys who on his own and without the best role models in the older boys got perfect scores in both math and spelling. Thats what keeps this teacher going.

Bloggin my way through Africa,
Sam

Word from the boush

2006-03-25T12:15:00.000+01:00

Lazarous is about 10 yrs old and a special friend of mine even though he is not the best at English. We often sit together on the couch after supper, a sign usually that one wants a story read. He would say yes to a story but he never showed much interest in them. He helps me when I need a hand.

He is the one most often accused of offenses (probably with reason) but always has elaborate excuses. Though I understand no Chinyanja, you can understand the accusatory tone of voice and the "it wasn't me" sort of whine, usually followed by laughter of those around. Lazarous is usually happy, observant and active with others. At times though, I see him sitting with a sad, vacant look, not taking in anything going on.

Best I can get out of him is that he is sad. Sometimes I can pull something from my resources to cheer him up. (Thanks to Louise for the bouncy balls and poppers you gave me and insisted I bring).

On my last excursion "into the bouch" as the boys say, I pickup up or was followed by four, one of whom was Lazarous. Typical boy interested in any berries or fruit no matter how impossibly green and hard they were. Lazarous wsa not much involved until suddenly he focused on a small bush. He purposefully grabbed it and began tearing it apart, skillfully pealing off the bark in long strips. I offered him my knife, but it was of no interest as he worked intently in a way I had not seen before. Finally I asked what he was doing. "Making rope". Where did you learn this? "When I was in the village." He knew the village and the name of his friend who had showed him how to do this. I got to hold the ends while he braide a very tough rope. How little I know of these kids.

We stopped to look at some very hard green fruit on a bush, when one of the boys spotted what seemed to be dark pepper like things hanging just over the bush in a low tree. "Those are very good to eat, Uncle Sam." I could just reach one and "picked" it, quickly realized I had a large tapered beetle in my hand. Somewhat girlishly, I umphed and shook it off my hand, dropping the beast in the brush. I turned to face the most diaappointed expressions. Now I had to redeem myself. We gathered about 8 of them, putting them in a corner of one of the boy's tee shirt. "You pull off the hard wings and cook them in oil." I did not see what happened to them once we were home.

Boys showed what lived in the many neat round holes about 3/8" holes in the ground with no castings around them. You put a stout stalk of grass down about 6" just so and pull up a fat 1 1/4" grub, also very tasty (I'm told).

Mrs. Mwandza remains ill. I have her class full time. We need her back. She is suffering from general swelling. She is a dedicated, wonderful teacher, prayers are in order...

Meanwhile in school we are struggling through our times (X) tables. And we go to great lengths to avoid learning them! I noticed recently, Sara and her friend doing their math multiplication problems together. They were taking turns "lending" each other their fingers for the other to count on.

Sat morning chores are quickly over by 9:30. The most angelic singing comes from the bathroom cleaners. These are not your usual family bathroom, but used by 20 people on weeks ends and by hordes more of little ones during weekday school. Well used you could say. The boys however seem concerned regarding the toilet seats almost without thought they see to it that they are "washed" regularly. I don't remember the last time I found a dry one.

So there are some similarities with children at home. About the only other thing I can think of is that they are hard to get ready in the morning for school. The older ones going into town for school, require two loads and everyone wants to be in the last load going.

Sat am chores over, washing up after breakfast, sweeping floor, sweeping the yard with handless brooms, mopping, waxing floor, cleaning toilets, digging holes for new guava trees, etc. Kids then will start to wash their own cloths with a bucket and bar of soap, or iron them. Younger one play hid and seek. When I first arrived the rules required counting to ten before going to look. But now we can show off our new skills and count past 30 upto 40 and then launch directly from 40 into siggety, siggety one, etc. (Don't know where "siggety" comes from but it seems universal. So in my class we've worked hard on pronounicing "60" as in "6" "T".

Mr Cheleshe made quite a stir on Friday volunteering to do a Unit on Electricity. He is among other things our electrician. He had seen the class workbook and covered every thing. He had all the materials required, a first in my science classes. He started in English and not getting much response to his questions, Hellen (the other teacher) suggested he use Chinyanja as well.

He set up the experiments and quired the kids on their predictions and then did them. There were cheers when the bulb lighted up. Wildly successful.

The block press will go into action when the water/electric line is laid to the school site. So the block can be made on site. The hand dug ditch awaits the pipe and cable. Oh, parts of the old grass school from last year were recycled into re- screening the latrines the current school/warehouse.

More next week from
Sam in the bousch

THE BLOCK PRESS WORKS

2006-03-11T11:58:00.000+01:00

Last week a crew from nearby, who operate their own block press came to show us how to use ours, since it had come with none of the promised documentation. The press came in a very open crate. This was removed and it was unpacked. Inside the press, in the only safe place to put any documentation, we found our documentation. But since the crew was here, they pumped out 4 nice red (color of our soil) blocks, which is the very beginning of the new school.

A long red ditch is growing across the area, will be the water supply of the school. This morning, before leaving, I noted that the house areas are starting to look like a nursery or garden store. Gardens springing up everywhere, organize child labor is great. I have never heard them complain about the work they do, they might find it very interesting talk with me about anything and then I discover that a work detail has been getting organized. But they work hard and happily.

Kathe is home (US with malaria.

Monday is a Zambian school holiday, what will I do?

Finally said yes to one of the boys, when he asked if he could go along with me on my walk (bird walk). This exercise is a gift I give myself and it feels good to get away form everything. So as I left, my friend came trotting happily along. Not gone far before I noticed an extra shadow following us. So Shields had decided he was going with Bobsi and myself. How did I get away with just two, I wondered. Anyway sharp eyes and not noisy, runing ahead to scare anything away. Just a few things: Saw a large ground bird, phasent relative, running along ahead of us. "Shall we catch it for you?" Saw some new weaverbird nests. "Shall we get them for you?" etc. etc.

From Brightest Africa,
Sam

Somethngs are fast in Zambia:Money & mosquitos

2006-03-04T09:58:00.000+01:00

Block press is here, the documentation for it is not, telling how to operate it and how to test soils you may be using. This is Zambia

Our new vehicle is on the dealer's lot, new NGO van. The moneys were available to pay for it, however, the vehicle in still on the dealer's lot and the money can't be sent to the dealer, must come to the non-profit first (big loss in funds this way) so we need more money to get the money sent first to us. New regs mean addition grant info must be sent first. This is Zambia.

Second house has not been finished although it is fully occupied. Its closer to being completed than when I last wrote.

Wonderful news: Mr. Chileshay has taken the job of Buildings and Grounds supervisor. He will oversee building and maintain current facility. He is good, when I first met him, told Kathe she needs someone like that. She informed me she had already tried that and he refused. Well the second time was a winner. He is dedicated worker, warm, helpful person, who when asked by me, said he would be happy to teach a unit on electricity to my class. I could have done it except I had no wires, bulb, etc. etc. All I had was a battery. Oh yes and part of the curriculum has the kids wiring appliances up to 220 system. Most appliances sold here are not ready to plug in here.

So Kathe has one large area she no longer needs to worry about. New large swath of grass has been cut for new water main that will service the new school and future houses.

Speaking of Kathe, we just dropped her off at airport for her trip home.

I have been working with Ronk, a former resident who dropped out of school, is 18 yrs old and is going back to school. He has just completed his first week of schooling. We have had two tutoring sessions prior to this on reading. He read to me for about three hours from various text books we had at hand. Sunday we will work some more, perhaps on some of his subjects.

I teach with Hellen and Mrs. Mwandza. Mrs. Mwandza is a brick. Dedicated, previledge to work with her. Actually had an occassion to visit her in her home. She has her mother with her who needs constant care, young son and several male relatives who are all looking for work. Home very simple, picture of Jesus on the wall, the only decoration I remember. Yet she is bouyant person who comes to work in good spirits. We are lucky to have her.

Some of the ground is bare around the warehouse/school from all the foot traffic, but not much. We must keep pulling up what must be African Quack grass, if we want a small playing field. Last week after pulling up grass, I took a spoon and dug masala pits for playing masala. No one needed rules, hands and stones were moving faster than I could follow. The yard of the houses is extended regularly by use of a maddock to keep the grass back. The rain flattens everything out to a smooth sandy yard.

Oh yes, I see this every day, we sweep inside the house and we sweep the yard with brooms with no handles. Needless to say, I don't sweep my room often, this broom doesn't put you in the best position to appreciate what a nice room you are in.

Finish my first month, unbendingly,
Saqm

Off Scheule, if there is one

2006-02-22T13:30:00.000+01:00

A bit off schedule due to a few crises. Water went out for a day and half, no wash, no toilets, no showers and no bath. Here we were all set and no place to GO.

Got the water happily restored and then the driver failed to return from an errand. The car has not been acting well. Second day learn that it needs a new transmission. No money in budget for that. Every revolves around the car. Older children get to their school, some younger ones get to our school, food, email, etc.

A shy 14 yr boy and one of the mothers comes to me explaining that he had a problem he did not want to talk with the women about. She leave and he shows me a lump just into his pubic hair. I hope I don't leave out any details you ar interested in. It was too deep to be a boil, no surface mark, but there about a week and is very painful. I wish Kathe had introduced my as Sam instead of Dr. Weeks. So I go to Kathe and describe what I have seen. She says it must be the Putsie Fly larva, the one that lays its eggs on damp clothing, hatches out and enters your skin. Lives there for sometime. However, after about two weeks its is big enough (about 1/4 inch long and can be expelled forcibly and painfully. Any medical help out there. Kathe says that drs here don't do this procedure. Any local anesthetics? Application of ice (or would that cause the bugger to dig down deeper?) Local anesthetics are not much in use here. We do have a prescription free, that is you don't need a prescription to get medicines, drug store.

Teaching and tutoring 8 to 4. Friday met Ronk who was helped by Chisawasha earlier when we were in town. He is about 20 yrs or so and is going back to school. I will meet with him Friday for help with reading and understanding and speakin' english or whatever it is I speak. Kathe heard one of the elem. teachers pronouncing GIRL as GEL. Well old Gels and Gents, I catch you next week or whenever the car is running.

I was just going to post this blog when the system went down, so I am back with it and extras. The block press has arrived at last liberated from customs. Thats the good news. Bad news, no documentation, no manual, nothing regarding its use.

Immigration: I thought I was free (no not free) and clear but they want me or my paper work back in 14 days??? They took the million Kw.

Toyoto Dealer in Lusaka has an NGO van, yes thats the name of it, in stock, so we hope it will not have to be ordered.

Plumbing in second house is complete except for a missing, to be ordered sink. Stove and refrig are yet to be installed, but we are close and folks are living there.

I talked the electrician into doing a session on electricity with the kids for science.

Second try, Sam

2-11-06

2006-02-11T12:00:00.000+01:00

Bog 2

School is done in two buildings right now. House I is quickly cleared of breakfest to be intstantly converted to classroom. The porch is used as well. This takes care of the youngest.

Older children gather at the warehouse which has all the beauty and architectral detail of a run down warehouse, with few openings to let in light. No elect or water, just a shell. School space was made by moving boxes from past containers. Space is so dim that on rainy days I have trouble reading. Floor is extremely rough, some much so that I thought it unsweepable, but the students do it with alot of water to keep done the dust. Tables and chairs, every thing is covered with a fine grit every morning.

Some of my student's names: Annastazia, Memory, Lazarous, Mercy, Charity, Monde, Faustina, Boston, Abraham, Sheild and a few plain Richard, Annette, Lilian and Annette. In the beginning, Annastazia would sit in class and frown intensely at me. I had to learn the Chinyanja word for smile 'seca'. Some she smiled between frowns, and then started answering questions, often correctly. I have worked with her in remediation, and she seems to be blossoming. In a story we came across the expression of someone coming out of their shell. I explained it describing what had happend with Annastazia. I glanced in her direction and she was beaming.

Monde (child with bad burns on back of her hand, nicely healed with normal flexability) could not write her name, she thought she could, seemed convincing to me, so I checked with Mrs. Mwandza who assured me her name was Monde. Today she's got her alphabet, good at phonics and is starting to read. Several students convinced me they knew the alphabet, and would recite it easily. But they had problems wheh I asked them to correct their spelling and giving them the right letters to use.

So I pointed to the alphabet, starting with zed and proceeding backwards. They hadn't a clue. when I am done here they will know their alphabet backwards and forwards!

This teacher learned something a few days ago, a long stick inspired a Sun dial.
Stuck it in the ground, writing the hour in the gound at the tip of its shadow. Later I left class to enter the next hour, but something was wrong, the nice arc I had described to the kids was not there, the shadow was just getting longer!! the stick had not been moved... Not in the temperate areas any more, too close to the equator for the arc. Sun dials give straight lines here.

Things we need: besides a vehicle and a finished secound house and the relief that will give the toilets that the 30 plus people use regularly (many of which are teenagers.)

Aquaria, for terrariums and insect nets for catching them. Used moths and other things visiting night lights for class. We are rich in computer components, but have only 2 working systems. Older children have computers at the school they are attending and need keyboard practice if nothing else. If you send a working system, please pack it in such a way that its componants can be pt together and reassembled easily, even coding cables and recepticals would speed things up.

Things you need (Baptists and UUs) from Zambia:
First- Be happy, (having things is not what makes you happy, may preclude happiness)

Second- for Newcomers Committees. Last Sunday went to church with the kids to hear them sing, they are a significant part of the choir. I was in the last of several car trips to get everyone there, so arrived a bit late. Sat down quickly to find I was on the womans side of this small country church. I moved quickly. Service was all in Chinyanja. Toward the end, I recognized the announcements somehow. At one point everyone looked back and a tall gaunt man came forward. Then I heard Dr. Weeks, (Kathe's assiniged name for me) one of our boys motioned me foreward, so I went. The chairman greeted me, he knew I was at Chisawasha. Asked me what I did and how long I was staying. Expressed appreciation and apologized that the sermon was not in Eng. He shook my hand and a wonderfu 'band' (all made by their players) struck up a very lively piece and everyone filed, danced, forward and shook my hand the other guest. Hand shaking requires both hands here, hold you right arm with your left hand.
So you Newcomers Com. better do a little more, I really felt welcomed. I came late, but they found out my name and where I was from befor the service ended, to call me foreward. I did not have to stand up and give and name and sit down again. These folks know how to do it. I expect some changes when I get home.

Some supper meals such as the small, salt dried fish with large sad staring eyes) Kathe doesn't care for much. Then I hear the welcome words, "Sam, its time to check out another restaurant in Lusaka. What ya hungry for?"

I brought lots of stuff with me to Zambia including a quantity of imodium. I could be sorry later, but right now, I'd trade it all for a few bottles of prune juice. OTherwise, thing are going well.

PS. Kathe and I went to immigration office to extend visas. Must have more paperwork plus $300 each for another 3 months. Also the Kwatcha is down to K320/$.

Please edit,
Sam

The Dikkop has landed.

2006-02-05T13:31:00.000+01:00

02-05-06

The Dikkop has landed! More appropriate than the eagle, this African nocturnal bird is a reluctant flyer, prefers to remain on the ground. The rip was uneventful. My bags obediantly came with me. I had been so concerned regarding their weight, I had made an early visit to the airport in Ithaca to pre-weigh them. But it ws a waste of time, during my check in, a new counter attendant, my bags were never weighed.

Customs in Lusaka were slow but without incident. Kathe met me after a few minutes of my convincing the cab drivers that I had a ride. Kathe, as usual, was running her own taxi, getting her people to where they needed to go, and I was not her last fare.

Lusaka is not acity I am looking forward to driving in. YOu point your car in teh direction you want to go and proceed in a determined way all on the left side. Even from the air, Zambia looks very lush, everything is green. It is the rainy season. From Lusaka to Chisawasha, it is scrub brush with scattered trees. The area is generaly flat. The Great North Road is in fairly good shape. There is one police check point, which we were waved through, a few kilometers further we slow down for our turn. There is no sign for Minestone Rd, as far as I could see there is no Minestone Rd, only a dirt/mud track. After a short was down, we turn off again. Kathe points out a tall tree that is the only landmark for this turn, a short way further adn I recognize the two buildings as Chisawasha. People are standing out front and I stat meeting folks whose names I know I will not remember. Happy smiling faces checking me out, mostly children, looking happy and healthy. Also several adults. I am anxious to get to my room, yes I have a room with a sink. (The director gave this up for me) Once in my room, I remove my now very inappropriate long underwear and warm flannel shirt as well as my winter jacket.

The children are warm and affecdtionate, not much time now to interact, Kathe needs to get to the monthly Craft Market where we sell used books. The Craft Market was great, with just one exception, I had no Kwatcha yet. Wonderful fabrics, baskets, carvings, ceramics, jewelery, gems adn the smell of food. And of course a great table of used books, with two Chisawasha staff selling books briskly. An intro to things monitary:they almost sold K2million. The dollar is going down, 3400K to the $.

Oh, regarding the 2 doctors we heard about at my departure, there are none at present. A doctor and his wife may come next January from Tucson.

We closed down the book table at the end of the day, loaded everytning into a small station wagon, table, books, two ladies, myself and Kathe, back to Chisawasha. I aske about the lack of signage that would help someone find the place. "Sam," Kathe explained, "We are at capacity now, if we advertised our location, we'd be overrun." So for your information, I am sort of working at a clandestine orphanage somewhere in Zambia. (Note: Kathe says a land line is in the offing PHONE)

Exchanged some money, hit the ShopRite grocery, bought some cereal, yogurt like product, juice adn jam. Also got a familiar looking can of tuna, only the contents include mayo and sweet corn. Total bill: K64,150.

The children are not just h appy, they glow. In my days here, I have not heard a serious confrontation. No physical fighting, rarely verbal exchanges that are negative. Some teasing that may go too far, in short a happy, peaceful place. Kids are busy but have time to play and singing is important.

STill jet-lagged, that first afternoon, I faded away about 4:30 pm but up for supper, not like me to miss a meal. Meals consist of nshima with boiled leaves perhaps of the pumpkin plant and something else, beans, meat, fish. Nshima is great(corn meal boiled to a thick consistancy) we eat it with knife and fork, but it should be rolled in the hand and dipped into something, I've seen one of the boys do this. So its alright to play with your food here.

We eat in stages, can't seat 32 kids plus adults all at once. Unlike the traditional way in Zambia, here the kids eat first adn adults take whats left over. Just the opposite outside Chisawash, I'm told.

After that first meal, we gathered in the main (living) room (with sofas), somesit just outside at tables on the porch. At first some of the older girls start singing amoun themselves, but this seems infectious adn soon everyone is singing. Seems we can't sing here and stand or sit still. Again the older girls started dancing in a group. Oh yes and the ever presnet drums played by the boys, one of the youngest seems taken over by the activity, totally immersed. Moment before he had been a typical shy little boy, who would do little to call attention to himself.

At one point I asked the some of the boys if they ever danced. I got a definite 'Yes' adn'No'.

But eventually, the boys began to dance, usually one at a time with the girls. Toward the end, some of the dances became competitive. The group of girls would sing a chorus and then one individual would show his/her stuff at being skillful &/or outragious.

Last Sunday I was asked if I'd like to teach school. We we're down a teacher. So this last Mon. morning I met Mrs. Mwandza, a wonderful woman and teacher. She quickly laid out for me what had to be done. Teaching materials are variable, sometimes we have workbooks for each student,sometimes ewe have only one. We never write in these because they will be needed again. So sans lesson plans, I went at phonic, Eng., Sci., and Math, with fourth graders some of whom were 14-15 years old. One story read for comprehension wwas about the 3 little pigs and the hyena. 14 in my class. The 'school' is a corner of the warehouse used to store the contents of the 'container'. It looks and feels like a warehouse, no lighting except a few windows. Can be pretty dim on rainy days. Do have black boards, desks, and student.

They are so serious, I had to learn the Chinyanja word SECA for smile. Soon discovered that their English is not always so good nor their understandingof one speaking at a normal rate with my pronunciation. The Chisawasha residents do remarkably better, hearing us all day.

Charles needed more help that the others in alphabetizing lists of four words. We had worked for some time to get though it. Finally I asked him if he knew why this was important, why do we do this? "E" was his hopeful reply, assuming I was still quizing him on the alphabetizing. I told him he was a very bright student, his only problem was a poor teacher who could not communicate with him. He probably didn't understand that either, but hopefully he could tell I waas no longer pressing him for answers to questions he couldn"t understand. He and I are doing better at the language of Math.

After a week, a new teacher has been found, Hellen. I was feel bad at the loss of 'my' children. But Mrs. Mwandza said I could teach Sci. and work with those students that need extra help. Best of both worlds. I did have fun with phonics. I could not distinguish words such as 'spling' from 'spring'. So I am teaching them to growl and get out Hard Montan R's. I told Kathe, I was afraid they would all leave sounding like Montan cowboys.

Breaking news: some have moved into the new building even though the plumbing doesn't work. That building was to have been complete in Jan.

Car impounded twice last week by the police, too many children in teh car, finally let them go. Out car is old, our car is small, we need a van to transport up to 25 children at a time, and a small vehicle for earands into town. Gas is expensive here too.

All for now, I should have more to say, I do have more to say, but no time. Seems like I have only been here a few months. Very comfortable, very at home.
Please edit.
Sam