Chindende, Chindende

A single paved highway spans the 500 Kilometer distance from Solwezi, a town filled with hustle and bustle after a boom in the copper mining industry, to Zambezi, the town our Zags have called home for the past few weeks. After a quick trip to meet the Bishop of the Catholic Diocese, pick up some new travelers, and visit the local ShopRite, our motley crew is ready to go home. The drive is filled with road trip essentials like any other- fast food, the sweet sounds of John Mayer, and good company to pass the time. As I peer out the window, my eyes meet the steady flow of trees that cover the land on both sides of the road. Homes with thatched roofs, market places, and schools flicker into view and disappear from sight as our car makes its way home. Chindende, chindende. Slowly, slowly I think to myself as I adjust my legs and settle in to the leather seats of the Land Cruiser. This journey will be long, but bit-by-bit, we will make our way.

I first heard this Luvale phrase last year in Zambezi when I was talking with Precious and Maxine, two young women who I had nicknamed “The Lemon Ladies” because of the enormous lemon tree in their backyard, which they plucked fruits from daily, and sold on the road along the market. I had invited them to a party and they were running late saying, “Chindende, Chindende. We will make our way soon.” It was yet another reminder of what people describe as “Zambia Time” and what we have discussed on this trip regarding the African Concept of Time. In the Western World, time is love, time is money, and time is power. In Africa, time is the past and time is the present. There is no future time. Time is defined by events and not by certain hours in the day. The party won’t start at 15:30. The party will start when the party starts. Get it?

At lunch today we hosted Francis, a Zambian social worker and founder of a newly launched NGO, and we learned about all the efforts that him and his team are putting in to their work to support vulnerable children throughout Zambia. Before he left, I asked Francis about how he finds time to relax and recharge in the midst of getting his organization up and running. I was surprised and curious when he shared that he doesn’t really find free time to do those things. He compared my own American culture where people have a mutual understanding to abide by strict timelines in order to create space for personal leisure time to the African workplace where work happens when it needs to happen. Time is present, not future. Francis acknowledged the difficulties in balancing his work with his personal well being and also emphasized the importance of completing tasks when they need to get done. No deadlines or timelines. Just completing the task at hand because it needs to be completed.(However, he did mention that after a long day of work, sharing a slice of pizza with friends and family usually fills him with energy).

Little by little. Bit by bit. Whatever it takes to carry this haystack across town.

I look up from my book and see Father Dominic staring out the back window. “Chindende Chindende,” I say, and he smiles in reply, “Chindende, chindende. Slowly slowly. Chizunda ambachile mbambi yenyi.” A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. I ponder this quietly for a while. Steps can’t be skipped, but all it takes is one at a time to make our way along. We will be home soon, but for now I will enjoy the rest of this car ride. Time is present, not future.

The journey back from Solwezi.

There is something to be said for the giddiness and excitement that comes when one returns home after a long journey. A sea of questions can plague our minds in anticipation of what is to come. Who or what will be waiting for me when I return? What new things am I bringing back to share with others? How will my home be different? How will I be different? I was overcome with these thoughts and was filled with eager anticipation upon our group’s arrival in Zambezi a few weeks ago. I struggled to embrace the beauty of being present in the journey through Dubai and Lusaka because my mind had already returned to yellow walls, sandy paths, nshima, and the many Zambians I had met the past summer. I wanted our group to finally get where we were trying to go, so I could get home to Zambezi. So we could get home. I was so focused on the destination that I lost track of the significance of each point in the journey.

Last semester as a part of my Sociology of Education class, I volunteered with the Walking School Bus program at two of Spokane’s public elementary schools. Three days a week, several Zags and I would pick up a group of students at their homes or a designated pick-up area and walk them to school. On our walks we played imaginary games, talked in funny accents, and I learned more about MineCraft than I bargained for. My relationship with students on the route was based upon our journey together on cold, rainy mornings. I didn’t look forward to dropping students off at school because it meant we had reached our destination and would have to part ways. With each step I thought to myself, “Chindende, chindende. Slowly, Slowly we can make our way.” Taking things slowly could be a good thing.

Zambezi is a home away from home, which makes it a place to journey to and from, and a journey within itself. Now that I am here again, I savor the days and want the moments to pass by slowly, slowly. These days are full and if I don’t stop to remind myself to slow down and enjoy, I miss wonderful opportunities. The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. As a group, we have taken quite a few of them so far, but we still have many more to go. Each footprint left behind, which traces our path in the sand, will serve as a reminder for the rest of our time to come. “Chindende, chindende. We can make our way.”

Kisu Mwane,

Elly Zykan (Class of 2018)

P.S. Thank you to all of those who follow along with our posts each day. Like our moments in Zambezi, we take in each word you have to say slowly and with intent. Much love.

Embracing each moment, including a sunset at the river.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

18 Responses to Chindende, Chindende

  1. Emily Handy says:

    My dear JoJo (from the movie RV),

    I’ll try to write this over the lump in my throat caused by that photo of your shining face in front of the shining Zambezi River. You and Zambezi pair so well together.

    Thank you for the reminding me of this perfect sentiment of “slowly.” As always, you know just the right words that my heart needs to hear – even when you’re continents away. I know that you are leading this group in every way that they need. I hope this includes some nightly games of Assassin. Remember to vote for Elly.

    I love you so much and I cannot wait to hear about how wonderful and crazy and so Zambia this experience has been for you.


    PS so glad everyone got to meet Francis because he’s so freaking cool. Also tears of joy at the sheer mention of Father Dom he is my favorite person on earth.

    PPS Taylor & LeBrun please post soon because I just really miss your voices

  2. Riley Ramage says:


    Wow. Thank you thank you thank you for sharing these words with us and for showing us again how incredible of a leader and a lady you are. I can’t explain the joy it brings me to imagine some of my favorite Zags traveling through one of my favorite places, let alone to hear the ways in which you are all already being impacted by the people and things that surround you and the words of wisdom being shared. I remember being frustrated by Zambia time when I was there – taught, exactly as you said, that time is money, wanting to move to the next thing or hurry up the process.

    How wonderfully you have articulated the beauty of taking things slowly, and how wonderfully the people of Zambezi continue to show us the importance of recognizing this. Continue to savor each day and to move slowly.

    Much love to all of you, especially Taylo, Maddie Lebrun, Kelen, and you Chooch. Miss you to pieces and cannot wait to hear the ways in which you leave footprints in the sand.

    Kisu mwane,

    p.s. I’ll also second everything Handy said because, as always, she is right in every way

  3. Katie Polacheck says:

    Elly dear,

    Ahh, that day of the accompaniment lunch. We walked to Precious and Maxine’s house feeling a little like we were stood up and found them taking great care to get ready for the party. They hadn’t forgotten or chosen not to come. No, they had washed their best dresses and rubbed vaseline on their faces and made sure Raphael didn’t get too dusty playing with the other boys in the sand. I think too often we are afraid of chindende because of how it might make us appear to others. Slowness sometimes looks like incompetence or laziness to us when it’s really deliberateness, thoughtfulness, and great care. You are someone who models that great care both in Zambezi and at Gonzaga, and your words are the best example of this. Everything that comes out of your mouth has been turned over and thought out. Your kind words are rich with tenderness and raw with Elly love. Thanks for caring about and for me, among many others. This group is so lucky to have you. (Someone sitting next to Elly please give her a big hug from me right now thanks).

    I hope you are having slow moments in your TA role. As I’m sure you’ve figured out, there’s no job description written out for you and often there’s not even a daily schedule to follow. I hope that some days you spend the whole day cleaning out the damn closet and making sour lemonade and other days you walk with a friend to her boss’ house where she makes you eat a whole loaf of bread. I know that Zambezi is loving you in a special, chindende sort of way, Elly. I can’t wait to hear about the new shape of your heart.

    Today I was thinking about Victorina, one of the ladies who sells rolls in the market. On my first day in Zambezi last year, she jumped up from her stand (nearly knocking over the bread), shouted my name loudly, and gave me a huge hug. I had absolutely no idea who she was and it took me a full week just to figure out what her name was. Zags, I hope that someone showers you with that kind of undeserved affection and welcome today. Try to return the favor any way you can. Take great care with and of each other and Zambians. Continue to walk through your days slowly. Know that your processing will also happen bit by bit and that some of your most meaningful growth might happen in Livingstone, Spokane, elsewhere. Write everything down. Ask questions. Find a lemon tree on the side of the road.

    Elly, I love those lemon ladies and YOU so much. Please take lots of photos of little Raphael for me. I am thinking of you all as I stuff things into bags for my own Zam adventure. I’m a little impatient but you’ve reminded me to slow down. We will return home soon, though it is very far. Chindende, chindende.

    All my love and butt pee,

  4. Jeffrey Dodd says:

    Ramage is correct: Handy is right in most ways. Except Disney.

    But this is about Elly, whom I would like to be when I grow up. I hope you have had opportunity to share a drum riff or three with folks. And that you have helped them perfect nenu akwe tu mwa tiananga, akwenda nayesu.

    You are absolutely great for this role, and I hope I get to hear all the ways that slowly slowly is teaching you to be gracious to yourself.

    Chase, I don’t really know you, except that one time I observed a sociology class you were in, and you remained mostly quiet before dropping a keen insight and stepping back into observer mode. Your post was stunningly vulnerable and courageous. Yes, light and dark are necessary. You are fortunate to recognize it so young. I can see why your dad is so proud.

    Yall. For bedtime, I was reading to almost-one-year-old boy-child and came across this passage that seemed like a crazy fever-dream metaphor for the bridge at Chinyingyi. We were reading from Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon, a Marxist radical social theorist who in 1960 wrote this:

    If the building of a bridge does not enrich the consciousness of those working on it, then don’t build the bridge, and let the citizens continue to swim across the river or use a ferry. The bridge must not be be pitchforked or foisted upon the social landscape by deus ex machina, but, on the contrary, must be the product of the citizens’ brains and muscles.

    I found myself reading that to the boy and thinking of the uneasy passage that bridge offers to its citizens, how its construction was a locally innovative solution to a local problem, and how it’s the perfect passage in its place.

    All this to say, I am a proud, distant observer of the perfect passage you all are making right now.


  5. Moira Andrews says:

    I am sorry if this is the 2nd comment I leave, I tried to comment before but I think it deleted! So sorry!

    My dearest Elly,
    It is absolutely wonderful to hear your voice through these words. I am so so glad to hear you are creating some wonderful new memories and are meeting new people and also wrestling with new questions. I am also glad you are able to look back fondly and bring things you learned from last year into this new experience in Zambezi, home. I hope you’ve been dancing tons and have had the chance to play the drums. How beautiful is it that you get to walk alongside some pretty rad Zags on their first adventure in Zambezi and they get to walk alongside you as you navigate what is means to be the TA and being back in that wonderful and also confusing home. I’m proud of you and proud to call you my friend. I hope you’ve “slowed down” and taken some time to yourself. You are where you are meant to be, keep loving, questioning, and learning. love and miss you so so much.

    Much love and kisu mwane,

  6. Matt Clark says:

    Ahhhhh miss Elly –

    So glad your words come at a time when I myself am trying to find peace in chindende, chindende. You more than anyone there around that table knows how fast time moves in Zambezi, even in the slow moments, and that the timelines and deadlines can be overwhelming.
    Handy and KP have pretty much hit the nail on the head in much more articulate ways than I could, and I won’t attempt to match their words – this is your place, and just as that smile spreads slowly across your face, your presence fills the group around you with joy and passion. I hope that #ZamFamChilengaBookClubSummer2k16(actually winter) has more members, and you have shared your infectious love for JoJo slowly, slowly. Cannot wait to hear more about your second journey through the sandy streets at sunrise and sunset.


    PS. Chase Hoyt – I read your blog and my phone died before I could comment, but just want you to know how proud I am of you in this and all your endeavors at Gonzaga – watching you grow over the last two years has been such a joy, and you share your heart with those around you in such an authentic and inviting way. Zambezi is a place that asks so many more questions than it answers, even after you return and think that you have it all figured out – however, the questions that you ask here are life-changing and insightful, and will shape who you become moving forward. I hope you find time to laugh and dance, and that the joy you are experiencing in Zambezi reminds you of all the joy in life. I love you bud.

  7. Katie Barger says:

    My dearest Elly,
    You are so wise beyond your years. Every time I talk to you I literally learn a new perspective or a new truth about myself or this world we live in. I love that you can seamlessly transition from being the crazy lady in the animal suit dancing in the corner or screaming “Jo Jo from the movie RV,” to the knowing heart that speaks love and courage into the hearts of those around you. I know you are serving this year’s group in both of these ways in the only beautiful and Elly way you know how. Time is such a hard thing to understand, accept, appreciate, manage, or rather refrain from trying to manage, and I love your ability to wrestle with it. I look forward to seeing all the ways Zambia has continued to shape you and “staying for tea” back in Spo. Keep doing small things with great love, you do it so well. Love you so so much my friend!


    Chase, I just want to say how I loved your description and choice to share with us your experience of the light and dark, both within yourself and Zambezi. I remember finding it really hard when I got home to answer people’s questions about how Zambia was, and I think you are right, you can’t tell one without the other. I challenge you to continue trying to love both!

    Wow I love your sweet laugh and your kind, calming heart. During Zambia Gold meetings, your laugh always brought a smile to my face. Thank you for sharing a list of all your hilarious moments of togetherness. You had me laughing. As I read your words I could hear Taylor’s laugh, but please no more falling Tay, I don’t want to hear another concussion story haha!! I’m glad there is singing during dish washing, that is really the only way to do it. And Anna, I’m so glad you are finding so much joy in teaching! Please tell Mwaba hello for me! She is wonderful! Keep laughing and learning along the way!

    All my love,
    -Katie Barger

  8. Megan O'Malley says:


    Reading your words was a bit like coming home. Post grad is hard. I have been able to rest the past couple of weeks, but it’s lonely too. And then I randomly decided to check this blog when I was brushing my teeth and my eyes filled right up with tears. Thank you for sharing, in your beautiful Elly-way, the pain and beauty of patience, and the desire to have your feet rooted where you are. For a second, I was back with you, feeling gratitude for the way you listen slowly, for the humble and wise way you share your voice, for the crazy way you make me laugh. I really am such a liberated version of myself with you, Elly. You pull the goodness I forgot about out of me and so many others. I am sure you are making a difference in this way for so many in your group and in the community. I hope this trip back to Zambezi has filled you to the brim. I can’t wait to hear about it. Give your fellow math lady a hug for me, and then have her do the same.

    Also, remember what time that picture of John August Swanson was taken? (That was just to send you off with a good ole LOL).

    Your Wannabe Childhood Neighbor/Dolores Mission Snuggler/Megan O’Malley

  9. Molly Patricia Bosch says:

    HI BROOMIE!!!!

    Where to start? First off, thank you for the beautiful reminder that Zambezi so effortlessly seems to bestow on others: the gift of presence. Something that we Gonzaga students need to practice more often than we do in our crazy busy lives. It is so refreshing to see you continue on your path of exploration, discovery, and reflection in this beautiful place.

    I am writing this comment through big fat tears as I remember that night that you tried on that extravagant blue dress that you had gotten from the tailors and you spun around and gave me a fashion show while I laughed at you under my mosquito net. I am also thinking of sharing that Savannah Dry with you by the Zambezi River and feeling like the world could not be any more perfect than it was in that moment. Elly, seeing your face in that photo is an image that I have so impatiently been waiting to see. To know that you are reunited with a place that has transformed and shaped your heart and mind in such inexplicable ways is such a gift for me to witness.

    I am without doubt that you are bringing so much joy, love, and good beats to this group and to our amazing Zambian friends. You are such a blessing, Elly. Thank you for blessing me with these words and thoughts to ponder tonight. Time is precious (not to be confused with your friend Precious or the bride/birthday girl Precious). But really, it is. So it is my hope that you let time embrace you with warm compassion in your remaining days in that sunny and beautiful place.

    Bli Blove Blue Blooo Bluch!! (I hope someone else is reading this comment out loud and that they are confused and that you are laughing.)



    PS- I voted for Elly

  10. Megan Weed says:

    Elly, Elly,
    I’m low-key trying to hide the fact that I am tearing up at my desk in the Housing Office right now. Your words have brought me home. Not ten minutes before checking the blog today, I was writing my giant to-do list, which I hope to accomplish before leaving for Seattle for the weekend, and in thinking of all the things I need to go done, I was wondering how I would have enough time to get them all accomplished. Slowly, slowly.
    In my Listen, Discern, and Decide class, I learned to take five minutes each day to myself, to sit in an environment where I am familiar, and just to listen to the sounds. We tune so much out when we get into our heads, planning the next activity or remembering something that must get done. In the coming days, take five minutes just to yourself, in a quiet space, and do nothing but listen.
    Make a list of the sounds you hear.
    Write down the things that you heard that made you smile.
    Remember the sounds you will take for granted now, like footsteps coming down the hallway or the sound of the shower in your room. It’s the same as at home, and yet it is different in this home.
    Remember the way the boards under your bed feel, the seconds that pass between the giggles and laughter you hear wafting through your window in your room mid-afternoon.
    Remember the spiders on your ceiling. Remember the conversations you have in the car, over cereal with shelf milk, before bed. Remember the hands that reach for you endlessly.

    I leave you with this Mary Oliver poem that has hit me in the right places the past few weeks.

    Kisu Mwane always,


    The Summer Day

    Who made the world?
    Who made the swan, and the black bear?
    Who made the grasshopper?
    This grasshopper, I mean-
    the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
    the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
    who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
    who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
    Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
    Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
    I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
    I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
    into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
    how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
    which is what I have been doing all day.
    Tell me, what else should I have done?
    Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
    Tell me, what is it you plan to do
    with your one wild and precious life?

    —Mary Oliver

  11. Conner House says:


    What a beautifully written blog. You had me full of images of Zambezi and all the beauty that place holds.

    Josh, sounds like this trip to Solwezi went a lot smoother than ours. Did you say hello to Kamakuku for me?

    This is such a special time in your time in Zambezi. You are finally settling in, you have a routine, and relationships are beginning to flower all around you. Enjoy every moment. And as Elly was conveying, do your best to remain in the present. That is something I continue to struggle with, even after Zambezi, but being aware of our brain’s constant fixation on the future is a good start to being more alive in the present.

    I wish you all the best of luck in your next few days and weeks. You are in a special place full of incredible experiences. I hope you all take away your own Zambian story.

    Oh, and also, you all got to see Brady?? What the heck! Talk about one amazing special guest. I hope you all had some time to talk and get to know her. What an incredible woman doing some remarkable work for our planet.

    Kisu Mwane,
    -Conner House.

  12. Zachary Chelini says:

    ELLY!! (you’ll get it),

    It brightened my day to read your post. I am so proud of your strength and poise throughout this journey. I have such high admiration for your leadership and the love you give to the people in your life. I know Zambezi welcomed you home with so much love. One of my fondest memories of Zambezi was co-teaching with you in the classroom. It brought me to tears today reflecting on that afternoon. I miss you and all my Zags dearly.

    Maddie Lebrun – Zac Chelini here — so happy you’ve made this journey. It’s an incredible way to wrap up your Gonzaga experience. Hope our paths cross again soon to hear your stories.

    Kelen – Your post inspired emotion I hadn’t felt since I was in Zambezi a year ago. Thank you for sharing your raw vulnerability and welcome us all back to Zambia this year. I’m also very happy we had the chance to meet in Crosby last year. Thank you for our friendship!

    Josh – Hey! I hope you are doing well and Zambezi had a party upon your return. I have taken so much of what I have learned from you as a man and mentor into my own life. I can’t thank you enough for your guidance and friendship throughout life thus far. I hope to see you soon my friend!

    Father Dom? Are you there? If so, hello my friendship! I still think about the time at the Ndeke Guest house over tea. I hope to see you again one day!

    Grace and Taylor – much love to you both and have had you in my thoughts and prayers these past few weeks dreaming of the adventures you are having. Keep exploring!! Zambezi 2016 is right there with you.

    Zambezi 2017 – take a moment to look around and hug each other a little more today. I remember week two was a tough time for me and it was the family sitting at this table that provided the space to grow through this time. The life you have in Zambezi, completely disconnected from the rest of the world, the gift of actually being present in one place for this amount of time is unlikely to happen again in life. Embrace it.

    Much love to you all. The best is yet to come.
    Kisu Mwane,

    Zachary Chelini

  13. Venezia says:

    I’ve read this a few times now and I’m not sure what to say that hasn’t already been said. I wish I could just give you a very big hug and then read more of your thoughts and wonderings.

    You really are a gift and I’m definitely going to miss you so much next year. When I read this the first time, all I could think was “damn she is going to be such a good teacher”. You are going to teach so much more than math to your students and that’s exactly what this world needs. You’re going to not only teach love, but truly truly show it. I’m not sure if that makes sense but that’s the best I can do right now.

    You are the queen of all choochies and like Dodd said, I most definitely would love to be you when I grow up.


  14. Lindsey says:

    I miss your insights and how calming your presence is. I’ve loved sharing the past 3 years with you and am so thankful for your friendship. I have no doubt you’re bringing forth endless laughter, honest conversations, and intentional reflection in Zambezi. You’re a special soul and so very loved. Proud of you and all you that you are. I hope you’re proud of yourself too and the ways you’ve held challenges with great grace and perseverance. You’re a gift, sweet elly.

    I need the reminder of slowly, slowly now (and often). On my second to last Friday sabbath for quite some time today, I’m committing to slowly slowly thanks to your well timed reminder. I sat in the warm sun eating breakfast with Chels watching Cody work, and Chels and I have spent the last hour and a half feeding our minds in the Native American and special collections library at the Museum of Art. With a long to do list before heading back to Seattle, I am taking today to be and to trust that what must get done will get done and that there is nothing sweeter than presence and time. Thank you for your inspiration.

    I think about Walking School Bus and our Sociology of Education class often. I’ve been reading and preparing for training, and so my of our material is similar to Joe’s class! I want to run next door to your room, morgs, and come talk with you (elly) and taylor. I love your hearts and how deeply you care about systems of power and oppression. I can only imagine the change makers all three of you will be in the rest of your time at GU and in your time after (esp you morgs!).

    Sending lots of love your way morgan smith and taylor! to all, enjoy this last bit of time
    In Zambezi and all the joy, tears, sweetness, and pain that comes.

    Love always,

  15. Ashlyn Whelan says:

    My Dearest Elly,
    It is wonderful to read your beautiful blog post! Thank you for being open and real about where you are, and where you have been during this journey. This concept of time that you write about greatly reminds me of “The Gonzaga Hustle” that we often talked about in your beautifully decorating room in 219 🙂 Sometimes it can be easy to get wrapped up in planning ahead for the future. With busy schedules and itineraries, it seems like jumping to the next thing is quite common and it is refreshing to hear you speak about your fight against time. Living in the moment can be very challenging and I confidently believe that you will win this battle. Thank you for reminding me of the importance and beauty of living an intentional life. Zambezi is where you are suppose to be right now and I know that you are spreading love and joy to all the people that you meet and interact with during your adventures! Enjoy every moment of where you are at and who you are experiencing these moments with. I am so beyond proud of you and the strong young lady you are! Thank you for being such a light in my life and especially for always being present this past year. The concept of awareness is something I think about often and the many conversations we have shared about it. I am really looking forward to hearing more about your return to your home away from home. Miss you! To close, I wanted to share and dedicate the closing prayer in a recent “Branches” podcast (that you shared with me in our Pickles emails :)) to you: “Let us leave here encouraged, motivated, and inspired to be more free in our own lives and to free those around us. We pray to see and listen to the human beings around us.”
    Sending all my love,

  16. Sophie Anton says:

    When I refreshed the blog, the picture of you smiling in front of the river popped right up and my face just burst out into a huge smile. My dog definitely thought I was weird, sitting alone at home, grinning and laughing because of how happy that photo made me! I think your smile just does this to people. I’ve seen so many people at Gonzaga light up when you’re around because of the joy you bring to others. No doubt you are showing this joy to the Zam fam 2017 group. They are all the luckiest humans to have gotten such a wise, compassionate, intelligent, happy, hilarious, and beautiful woman as their TA. The thought of you being back in Zambezi seems so right to me because you were such an important part of shaping my Zambezi experience. I have always admired you and looked to you as an example for how you take the best of each moment, cherish it, and share it with others. The title and topic of your blog definitely speak to how I feel when I am in a conversation with you. Time feels present with you because you are so intentional in the words you say. I really wish I could hold on to each word you say when I talk to you because you have so many wise insights to offer. You speak with such meaning and intention and I can’t express how much I value this. Thank you for helping me savor the conversations we have had and the moments of the days I’ve spent with you and for sharing your joy with me. I am blessed and quite frankly honored to know you and call you a friend. Sending my love and good blessings to you!


  17. Maddy says:

    Sounds like you are having an amazing adventure led by the one and only Josh Armstrong! Josh, we are practicing for hoopfest, passing life guarding classes (maeve), running (your Aiden), driving (Eli), shooting on a new soccer goal (everyone) trying to set up a new trampoline, walking sans crutches and generally awaiting your return so summer can start! Hurry home!

  18. Hannah Van Dinter says:

    Elly! Just beautiful. I needed this reminder today and always. We all have so much to learn, don’t we? I am so thrilled to know you are getting to experience Zambezi a second time. I wish that all students could, as there is a depth that comes with returning to a place. You are a joy and a light, and I loved reading your words.

    Kisu mwane,

Comments are closed.