Gonzaga-in-Zambezi

Returning back to the chapel after a long walk to and from the Dipalata Mission Hospital, I geared up to teach my second computer class with Kyle and Nolan, to a group of forty eager individuals. For the members of the small community of Dipalata this class was the first time, and realistically maybe one of the only times they would get the opportunity to see and actually touch a computer. I cannot begin to express their excitement as they craved to know anything and everything about this revolutionary tool. These were the only two classes we would teach in Dipalata, and although it was amazing to be part of the experience and see the community members in awe of the piece of technology that I take for granted every day. By the end of the second session, I found myself somewhat discouraged. As everyone departed from the one room church I was teaching in, I sat on a long wooden bench where I began to reflect. My mind churning fast, I found myself asking questions such as “how am I supposed to make a difference somewhere like this in two, one hour sessions?” “Why can’t I give them all the information they so desperately want to know?” Sitting there in a daze, I was quickly awoken by a shout from someone outside saying, “We are going to go explore and watch the sunset if you want to come.” Reluctant to go, I decided to follow the mantra, “just say yes.” As I stepped outside, several children immediately latched on to my hands, yearning for the slightest bit of attention. As I walked and followed behind the group, my heart felt heavy. There was great passion and desire in the eyes and hearts of these simple villagers. This was not something new for me to see in the Zambian people, but in this small boma with no running water or electricity, a thirty-kilometer walk from Zambezi, the nearest larger village, Africa began to feel real to me. I felt hopeless. I paused on the path, and stared at the sunset wondering why it had to be like this. I soon was interrupted by the familiar sound of a guitar not too far off, accompanied by soulful voices. I walked over behind the chapel to find choir practicing for Sunday’s mass. I sat on a rock and just observed as the music poured into my heart. My somewhat melancholy mood quickly changed. Curiously, moving to a closer rock I realized that this familiar sound was actually my backpacker’s guitar that I had brought with me. The choir director had his eye closed and was finger picking a beautiful tune. I did not question how he got it, but sat there and listened with a grin from ear to ear. The other instruments were handmade but the sound was powerful when combined with the rich voices.

We were graced with their choir’s performance two more times before we left Dipalata. That night, after indulging in a feast, which was somewhat uncomfortable due to visible lack of food and resources in community, we gathered around the campfire. Once again, I found the choir director, Pepytex, with my guitar. He had somehow made his own pickup and attached it to a very old small boom box. As the night grew darker, the fire grew brighter, but not just the fire in the middle of our wooden benches, but also the fire in our hearts. The amplified guitar, which will be given to Pepytex next week, began every song with individual notes, followed by the rich decedent voices of the African choir. The first song that was played that night and the next morning in mass had the lyrics of “Welcome, Welcome, dear visitors, we are all happy today.” This was a reminder to me of the feeling when I had arrived in Zambezi, 12 days ago.

Two themes have been present throughout my time here in Africa, the overwhelming joy and love, as well as servitude. Through the music and dancing in Dipalata the paradox of Africa was revealed to me in a new and impactful way. During our time in Zambia, I have noticed something different about the people that I am still struggling to put into words. The closest I can get is to say they are free. The sobering experience in Dipalata exposed the way that most of Africa lives. Each of us were pushed outside our comfort zones as we slept on the hard ground, with no electricity or running water (no bathrooms). However, we were also privileged to share the life and joy of the people as over two hundred children and adults gathered around the fire, dancing and singing with more life than a newborn. They were proud of what they had, even though it was little, and they were elated that they got a chance to share it with us. Those in Dipalata, as well here in Zambezi have served us with wide hearts. Their happiness and joy was something that came from deep inside. Although this simple joy was especially present in Dipalata, I have also found it as I talk with Gladys, Naomi, and Lisford for an hour after Computer Class everyday, or when I help Benson with his homework as he teaches me Lunda and Luvale. On a previous blog post, someone had mentioned that in Zambia, they had never been so happy with so little. Especially after Dipalata I can agree with this statement. Although we are here to teach and to serve, we are truly being served and learning from those around us more than we could have ever imagined.

The people here crave to know. The people here love with wide hearts despite the narrow road they walk on. The people here are free.

Hands

Whether they be small or big,
Pitch Black or snow white,
These worn hands yearn to be held tight.

Some aged with wrinkles
Others leathered and rough,
The embrace of a single hand can be more than enough.

Every time we step outside
Little hands reach up in the air,
Searching for another hand to cling to with care.

Other times we shake the hands
Of a new friend saying Musana Mwane, hello
This simple sign of respect can cause a heart to overflow.

Every single crack and crevasse
Has its own story to tell
Each unique feature in God’s glory we revel.

But no matter what a hand may look like
The same things it can do,
These hands united together as one, no longer two

Because when we are holding hands
It is eye to eye we see,
And through this we realize we can Be Free.

Stefanie Watson
Class of 2012

P.S. Mama, Daddy, Jess, and Grandma! I miss you all so much. Mom you would love it here, everyone is so friendly. I have been reading Jesus Calling and thinking of you! I love each and every post! Dad-the music is unbelievable. I have been trying to record as much as I can for you. Also, as I mentioned the backpacker will have a new home next week as Pepytex will walk here to pick it up and it will be put to good use as it ministers to the community. Jess-I have so much to tell you and so many pictures to show you. Try looking up Dipalata on google maps…good luck finding it! Grandma-your verses you sent me have been encouraging and I can feel your prayers everyday! Give Dipstick and Piper a kiss for me 🙂

P.P.S. To the rest of my friends and family! I miss you all so much! Thank you for reading the blog and for the support. I have so many stories for you. To my girls-I can’t wait to be reunited, and don’t worry I will bring plenty of colorful chitengis!

Departing for Africa, the experience of a lifetime, meant that I was leaving two 96-year-old grandmothers and my pregnant sister on bed rest. All very emotionally trying situations. Allowing myself to be worlds away from them, meant that I may miss the birth of my niece or that I may not be there for my family if crisis were to occur with my grandmothers. Both life and death, were sitting on the doorstep of my home, when I said goodbye to my loved ones.

We have been surrounded by so much life every day we have been in Africa, let alone Zambezi. The children have so much life and energy as they greet us with beaming smiles and excitement, whether it be at the convent doors, outside the shops in the market, or even when they charged the planes when we landed n the dirt airstrip in Zambezi. As Brady has put it, the children indulge in happiness. This is really the only way to explain it. We can see such life in the church. We can feel and experience the Zambian’s life through their music and dance. We see so much life, in the way they greet everyone they pass and in the passion and excitement they show in the computer, leadership, education and health classes. We have even been able to experience the miracle of life, when watching a baby giraffe being cleaned and cared for by its mother, only thirty minutes after it’s birth.

While we have been immersed in so much life, death has been in the shadows and present in many situations. On the safari, the realities of the circle of life were in our face. As we watched a leopard chow down on an impala, oblivious to the fact that its time had come. We were hit with the reality of death and how quickly life can end, when we heard the tragic news of friends’ and fellow missionaries losing their life in a plane crash. We could feel the cold shadow of death when we returned a HIV positive woman, suffering with TB to her home. She couldn’t have weighed more than 80 pounds and had to be carried, for she was too weak to stand or walk on her own. We have even seen and heard death, while watching Megan, Melissa and Brady, murder for the first time as they each beheaded chickens, in order for the group to be fed.

The paradox of life and death, the joys and hardships in both, surround us each and every day. I often find myself reflecting on these realities of life, when seeing the sun rise and set. The sunrises and sunsets have been bookends to our days. The sunsets often leave me thinking of the miracle of life, while the sunset, reminds me of how quickly one day can pass, how precious every moment is, and how we must not waste our time on insignificant quarrels or worries.

As I have reflected on my experience here so far, I realize the immense amount of supported I have been given by those who I now consider family, as I worry, hope and pray for the best for my family while abroad. I have realized that the world is much bigger than ourselves. Much bigger than I ever imagined. That we are never alone in our worries. I have come to believe that there is a bigger plan for us all and we can not allow ourselves to wallow in the “what ifs.” That all things, whether sad and painful like the death of a loved one or joyful like welcoming a new life to this world, are meant to happen with or without us, whether we like it or not. They are experiences that guide us, shape us, and teach us.

The biggest lesson I have learned thus far is that no matter what struggles we may face, we must love, we must live and most of all we must be free.

Anne Reid
Class of 2014

P.s. To my family:
Mom: the comments have been wonderful to hear! Keep them coming! I am rationing out my liquids and it looks like they will make it the whole month.
Dad: Happy Father’s Day Dad!! I love you and can’t wait for our golf lessons when I get back.
Joyce: I think about you everyday! Keep that bun in the oven! Also when I see all the chitengis I think of all the cool projects we could do with the fabric. Ill bring as much as I can home ☺
Emily: I got some great elephant photos for you. Oh and the apples here are delicious. I think of you every time we have one!
Shaun and Danielle: I know you don’t get married for another week or so, but this will be the only chance I get to say CONGRATS!!! I am sure the wedding will be amazing. Danielle, welcome to the Reid clan!

P.P.S. To friends:
I love you all! Please keep reading the blog. I miss you all like crazy and can not wait to share all my sorties with you when I return!! And special shout out to Cole Cummins! Congrats of finishing Jr. High, buddy!!!

P.P.P.S TO THE DADS!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi daddy!! Happy happy father’s day!! I am so blessed to have such a wonderful role model in my life. You are simply the best 🙂 love you so much and I cant wait to get home to give you a GIANT hug. Much love always xo- Kate

Papa!! Happy Father’s Day!! I was listening to “Pride and Joy” today by Stevie Ray and I thought about you, as always! I hope that you and Erin and Mom got to spend a beautiful day on the Irish Wake at Chatfield! I miss you more than I can say and absolutely can’t wait to see you again! I love you. – Megs

Hi dad! I hope you and mom are having an amazing trip and I can’t wait to see you in a week and a half! I love you!!!!!!!! Xo – Analise

Dad! I’m sorry I’m not home for Father’s Day but I hope Mom, Colleen, and Sean treat you to something cool! You deserve it ☺ Much love – Kyle

Dad!! I miss you so much and can’t wait to see you soon! I hope all is well at work! Please say hello to the ladies for me. Enjoy Father’s Day! Mom, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! You deserve to have the best day ever! I love you all! Xoxoxo Erin

Daddy! Every time I look in the mirror or see a picture of myself, I can’t believe how much I look like you, especially without makeup! I’m so blessed to be your “Roya” and think about you every day. I assume you’re with Dar and the kids today, give them all hugs and kisses from me. Love you Dad and I can’t wait to see you in North Carolina (or Jersey) when I get back! Happy Father’s Day!! -Paige

As we tied a goat to the roof today in preparation for an upcoming meal, I couldn’t help but think you’re enjoying pulled pork or brisket. Happy Father’s Day, Dad! I love you! –Nolan

It is great being here with Josh and the Armstrong family but it was hard to be away this Father’s Day. I hope all is well, I miss you and love you. Thanks for everything. – Mateo Trujillo

I was really missing you today pops! I hope your Father’s Day has been great, can’t wait to be back and have a brew with ya! Hope you are cheering on my team right now, love ya big guy. – Alex Dickman

Hi Daddy! I miss you like crazy! Today at church in Dipalata the choir director used the Martin and the music was wonderful! You would have absolutely loved the worship, considering it was 80% of the Mass! Happy Father’s Day Papa! I feel soooo blessed to have you as my daddy! Love you and miss you! ~Stef

Happy Father’s Day Pops! I really wish I could be there to hang with you. We will have to celebrate when I get back with a Corona and lime. I honestly couldn’t ask for a better father, role model, or best friend. I love you a ton! You da man Ricky J! –Jay Orth

Hey Daddio! I hope you are having the happiest of Father’s Days. Even though I cannot be there to bring you breakfast in bed and jump on you to wake you up, know that you have been on my mind all day and will be getting some great bear hugs on my return. I love you so much. Thank you for everything. -Brady

Hi Dad. Happy Father’s Day! Hope your day is great! Things are amazing here in Zambezi. Hope they are where you are as well! There are certain things here that remind me so much of our time in Egypt together and I can’t help but think of that and miss you. Love you lots, and Happy Father’s Day! Also, happy double-deuce birthday, Mitch! I have been thinking about you and wondering what you are up to, and wishing so much I could have talked to you on your actual birthday. Sending prayers your way for all of your decision-making! Love to you and the fam (Mom, Randy, Matt, Rebekah, and everyone else!) as well! Look for my blog post in a couple days! Love you all! -Melissa ☺

Happy Father’s Day, Dad!!! I hope that you have an awesome Father’s Day with Grandpa Korman! Melissa and I have been thinking about all of you and hope that Liezl’s graduation and Johnathan’s wedding were great! We truly wish we could have been there for all the festivities. We also hope that the first month of your retirement has been great and that you’re having fun and relaxing!!!! Thanks for being an amazing Dad and for all of the ways you have shown your love to us throughout the years!!!! Melissa and I are doing great and really enjoying our time in Zambia and have been very blessed and inspired by the love and hospitality of the people here. You, Mom, Dan, Chris, and Rose are constantly in our thoughts and prayers!!! Love, Dave

It’s the small things. It’s the kind soul who lets one uneasy passenger {me} grasp onto his shoulder during the three hour trip to Zambezi as our five person bush plane dipped and swayed with the turbulent wind currents. It’s the warm embrace of old friends greeting us on the tarmac, as we entered Zambezi for the first time and the firm Zambian handshakes of our new ones. It’s the feel of a tiny hand grasped tightly in ours, fingers curled around ever so completely fitting into spaces we didn’t even know we had. It’s the absolute brilliance of the music we heard in church on Sunday, as the beat filled our ears along with every nook and cranny of the one room church house, until there was nowhere else for it to go but into our hearts. It’s the way the little ones scream, “how are you, how are you!?” after my fellow Ed group and I as we endure the hour long walk home from school each day. It’s how those “how are you’s” evolve from simple questions to conversations, to friendships. It’s the trail of kids that follow our every move, often accompanying us to the market where they will insist on carrying our newly purchased chitenges around, and where Moona, the tailor, turns those colorful chitenges into incredible masterpieces (so far our group’s collection includes, a drawstring bag, some dresses and a few totally sweet shorts). It’s the eagerness in the kids who wait outside our convent, as they ask for a ‘storybook’, a marker to draw with, or better yet, homework. It’s their bright, white smiles, so wide they literally grin from ear to ear. It’s the way Mama Josephine, our friend and luvale language teacher gave us a pumpkin and a bowl full of sweet potatoes as a parting gift for simply visiting her home (which, by the way, had the most incredible view of the Zambezi River). It’s the simple tangerine one of my students places ever so gently in my hand, as they extend such a sincere form of generosity to me, when they alone have so little. It’s the unreal show Africa puts on each evening as the sun paints the sky with a brilliant display of the most vibrant oranges, pinks, and purples I have ever seen. As one of our group members, Jay, whispered to me while on safari in Botswana, “Only God could paint something so beautiful”.

It’s the small things. And the Zambian people seem to get that so well. It’s a simple relationship, uninterrupted conversation, handshake; a direct look in the eye.

It’s the little moments in our lives that awaken our souls the most. It’s those moments that often go unnoticed; moments sometimes no one else sees, yet they are powerful moments where you have a profound experience with the incredible humanity that surrounds us each day no matter where you are in the world. It’s those small, yet powerful moments when you realize we are all the same. We all have the same hopes, fears, wants and needs. Most importantly we all have the intrinsic desire to be loved. I am constantly reminded of how powerful love really is by how freely the Zambian people give it. Their love is starkly apparent in their smiles, their hello’s, their hearty handshakes and amazing ability make anyone and everyone feel welcomed.

It’s the small things. It’s those small moments that make me feel alive; that make my heart full of wonder for this amazing life we are all living…together.

“Remember the little things for one day you’ll look back and realize they were the big things.”

Kisu mwane, {blessings}
Kate Van Amringe, Class of ‘14

P.s- Mom and dad I love you guys so much. You are constantly on my mind and there have been so many moments that I wish I could have shared with you. I will forever be grateful for all the opportunities you have given me, including this one. You both are amazing and I am so lucky to have such a loving support team. You guys are the absolute BEST.

P.p.s- Linds and Griff miss you guys like crazy. Linds- the elephants were amazing and I was thinking of you constantly during it all and griff I’ve seen some pretty sweet dreads….i may (or may not) be coming around to the idea 🙂

P.p.p s.- to all my friends and family back home I love and miss you all and can’t wait to share all I’ve seen and learned!

Oh and one last thing…..Blake and Erin if you guys are reading…Gram and Sharon’s baby was born!

Before coming to Zambezi we were all aware of the many luxuries that would be absent from our lives during our time here. Having but a few changes of clothes, the separation from the technology that rules our lives, and of course the cold showers never concerned me. In fact I was looking forward to a life in which I could live in these simple means. But the thought never crossed my mind that our showers would not have a shower curtain. A simple luxury, yet a provider of such a strong sense of security, gone.

Be Vulnerable: the second listed promise on the group contract we all created together one of our first nights here in Zambezi. One of the most important things I have learned while being here came to me as I hopped into a cold shower after a sunrise run. At first, I was uncomfortable with the open corner shower I quickly cleaned myself in, but now I see all the beauty in being uncovered and exposed.

I am constantly finding happiness in my time here and sometimes I can’t help my lips from curling into a grin. Being in Zambezi, it is easy to be happy because it is easy to be, easy to be free. The people here welcome us into their community, their homes, and their lives with the deepest pride.

I think I surprised myself when recognizing all the things I do to put up walls, to draw the curtains, to give myself that sense of security so that I can hide all that makes me vulnerable.

I find myself asking, why do we barricade our souls with walls to separate ourselves from others? Here the people are in such a deep-rooted sense of community and family and they take care of one another in such a way that there is no need for someone to be closed off. The people here are open, they are free to be with each other. In many ways coming from the States we come from a mentality that you have to look out for number one, which in turn makes us close ourselves off. In contrast, people here understand that if one struggles they all struggle, if one triumphs they all triumph. I have seen this when a group of boys helps the other to sound out a difficult word while reading in the courtyard. I have seen this in our leadership class when people share with us their life stories. I have seen this within our own group here as we all pitch in to copy lesson plans and homework for classes and activities that we won’t be participating in.

Why do we fear to open up our deepest thoughts and being to the world? Why do we remain to lead lives that are comfortable that don’t present challenges that test who we are as people? Being here has made me understand more than ever that we like to hide our own humanity. We attempt to protect our hearts but in the process we smother our potential.

I came into this trip expecting to have my eyes opened but I am glad that the doors to my heart and soul have been lifted off their hinges.

Everyday we are presented with the opportunities to be vulnerable and to open up. Whether it be talking to a member in my leadership class, having a life chat with one of the beautiful people I am experiencing this adventure with, dancing our “Chindele” asses off for the Makishi, or washing the days dirt and sand from another’s feet and having your own feet cleansed; we are all able to let go of our insecurities; you just have to say yes.

As I strive to “keep my heart wide” I am beginning to understand what it means to be free.

Mateo Trujillo
Class of 2014

P.S. Mom and Dad: With all my time here you have always been present with me. I really wish there were words for me to express to you my love and appreciation for both of you. All I am doing is my process to becoming a man you can be proud of. I love you very much, and Happy Late Birthday Ma!

Marcos and Milan and Mia: I hope you guys are doing well. The Armstrong family constantly reminds me of us, three boys and now the new addition Grace to the family. I bet the Daytrader concert was amazing. You are always here, especially when listening to Clarity as I made early morning breakfast with Megan. Mia I hope you did well on your finals and all the studying paid off. Keep that kid off of you. I miss you guys so much. Love you. And Happy Late Birthday too Marcos!

On the very first page of my journal I wrote, “Don’t wait for Africa to transform you.” Today marks the halfway point in the trip and already I cannot believe that I have to leave in two short weeks. I have learned so much from the people who surround me, the Zambians, the Armstrong family, and my fellow students. On a long morning run I talked with a few friends about the trip so far and we all agreed that it would be impossible to explain Zambezi because it is something that must be experienced. There is no picture or words to describe long days, unbelievable starry nights, and deep discussion about the meaning of life. The best I can do to share this experience is reflecting on a few moments of Grace that I will cherish forever.

When the wheels of the small airplane that carried us to Zambezi touched the landing strip, there are truly no words to describe the overwhelming wave of emotion that filled my heart and traveled through my body. I made it! The trip that I had been preparing for and anticipating was here for me to experience and make my own. Like I had been told so many times before, my expectations were shattered as tears streamed down my face and happiness filled my heart. I almost wanted to pinch myself because it felt more like a dream than reality. Children swarmed the airplane; the first group who had made Zambezi their home boarded our planes sharing brief hugs and tears. Although I was across the world from my home, I looked around at the members of my group and what seemed to be most of the Zambezi community and realized that we were all meant to be here. This moment on the landing strip was filled with Grace.

As many students have shared, there are wonderful days here in Zambezi, but as human beings there are also difficult times within most days. One of the places that the health group teaches is in the Chilenga basic school, about an hour walk from the convent where we live. On my very first walk back to the convent I felt an entire spectrum of emotions. In the beginning I was excited to be walking with the students from the school as well as my friends who had been teaching with me. I was enjoying every minute of the walk for the first half with kids on my arms and interesting conversations, but as the second half came around I began to fall behind focusing more on my physical exhaustion and hunger than the beauty around me. I was immediately snapped out of this when a passing woman carrying a baby on her back and a large bag on her head asked me if I was tired. Once again the people of this place were able to amaze me with their large, open hearts and compassion. I not only felt welcomed here, I felt a sense of shared humanity. This strong Zambian woman, who I only spoke with for a few minutes, filed my day with Grace.

Today, I visited the Falconer House where Josh and his family adopted their Zambian daughter Grace. I traveled with Josh, his wife, his three boys, Nolan Grady and the health care group for over an hour to see this place where Grace had lived for the past four years. I can say with confidence that every one who has met beautiful Grace has fallen in love with her large heart and smile. Watching Grace interact with her new family, the children who crowd outside the convent, and the students she sees every day I am constantly amazed by this four-year-old girl who seems to know so much about life. She is so happy and so capable of giving and receiving love. When we went to visit her old home for the first time since the Armstrongs had adopted her we had no idea what to expect. When the van we had been traveling in arrived, children who wanted to greet their old friend immediately surrounded us to welcome us and say hello to Grace. This place was amazing, run by a former orphan who fell in love with the only place he knew as home, and sustained by love and a desire to continue Ms. Falconer legacy of caring for orphaned children unconditionally. Amidst the overwhelming crowds of people who had come to greet us I watched as Josh’s five-year-old son Owen reached out his hand to his new sister and held it tight asking: “Grace, are you okay?” This young boy knew exactly what she needed, and blessed my day with another moment of Grace.

Here in Zambezi, my classmates have become my family. We challenge one another in our nightly reflections with thought provoking questions about what it means to be human, to be living amidst poverty, to be a part of a broken world where we don’t have all of the answers. We value each member of the group inside and outside of the convent gates for their talents and their individual stories. We empower each other to be our authentic selves and to see the goodness amidst the hardship. I have fallen in love with Africa, with the people who surround me; with the family of both classmates and Zambians I have been so blessed to share a month with in this new home. When I first settled into my room a note was left for its new residents with a simple message: “Clean eyes, full heart, can’t loose.” I have realized by trying to pick only a few short stories that moments of Grace are happening all around me every day. And with that I am falling in love with Life.

Analise Thornley
Class of 2015

P.S. Mom, Dad and Ben thank you for teaching me the importance of family and how to give and receive love unconditionally. I cannot express how grateful I am for this experience. You are in my heart every step of this journey and I am excited to share Zambezi with you when I return home.

PSS. To all of our family and friends, sorry for not posting a group picture, we are all safe and well here in Zambezi, loving life and living it to the fullest!

PSSS. Brittney and Katie, I am living in your old room now, thank you for the warm welcome and I loved the words of wisdom!!

I have never realized how much I use a mirror. Here at the convent, where we are staying in Zambezi, there is not a single mirror. In fact, I have seen very few mirrors throughout my time in Zambia. This small fact speaks volumes about the difference in the lifestyle I am use to, the lifestyle of a middle class, American college student, and the lifestyle of the beautiful Zambian people.

In America, the first thing I do is wake up and look in the mirror. I spend an excessive amount of time in my warm, comfortable shower. I use my overpriced shampoo, body wash, acne cleanser, shaving cream, and razor. I have to make sure that my body and my clothes are socially acceptable before I step outside of my perfectly air- conditioned home. If I am not wearing my freshest Nikes when I go to class or my Sunday best when I go into the middle school classrooms for my field experience, I feel that I will not be fully respected. Why is it that I do this? Do I dress this way for myself or because society has created unwritten laws that I have to look a certain way? Do I act the way I do because it is who I am or because it is the only way to earn respect? Am I being my truly authentic self or am I just being a puppet that western culture is controlling?

Here in Zambezi, I have found that I am loved for exactly who I am. I am accepted not because of the way I appear or for the talents I have. I am not looked down upon because I have a gnarly, patchy beard or because I get my Chindele butt kicked at soccer by children less than half my age. People here look beyond our outside appearance better than anyone I have ever met. The mere fact that we are human and we are living beside them is enough. I can truly be myself here. I can whip out the dorkiest dance moves in the world among thirty African children and be completely comfortable with it. I can walk into the classroom ready to teach in a simple polo shirt, the same khaki pants I have worn all week, dirty shoes, and an unshaven face and get more respect than I ever would in America if I was dressed to impress.

It pains me greatly to think that many of the people here with whom I have quickly created a strong relationship with would be just faces on a busy city street in America. They would be people that society would have convinced me to stay away from simply because of the way they physically appear. I would never have met Joe who hopes to be a pilot when he grows up or young Junior who hopes to be a soldier one day. I would never have met all of the extremely talented members of the choir who so willingly invited me to come play music with them. I would never have met some of the most beautiful people this world has ever seen. While these people are lacking in money and material possessions, they are rich in community, love, authenticity, and compassion. While it is heart wrenching to see the condition in which many of these people are living, I can’t say I have ever seen a community living out its humanity more fully.

This leads me to consider a very complex and possibly unanswerable question. A question that has been on my mind ever since we crawled out of our tiny bush planes into a crowd of excited children. Which country is poorer, the United States or Zambia?

I would like to end with a quote from an article we reflected on as a group titled We See From Where We Stand by David Diggs:

“We see that we are all in need, rich and poor. The poor know they are in need. By contrast, we, the wealthy and powerful of the world, are often oblivious to our needs. We frantically try to fill our emptiness with more and more stuff, more and more activity, but without satisfaction. Our endless pursuit of material wealth is a sign of our spiritual poverty. But being with the poor- as opposed to merely doing things for them- can bring a spiritual awakening and be the beginning of our liberation. We see from where we stand, and, for many of us, to stand with the poor is to begin to see God for the first time.”

Jayson Orth
Class of 2014

P.S. Mom and Pops, I love you more than I can say and miss you very much. I can’t wait to sit outside, eat some barbequed burgers, throw the ball for the pup, and tell you about my trip. You are on my mind every day.

P.P.S. Ry, Enjoy your last few weeks in Houston. I can’t wait to come visit you at your new crib in Colorado! See you soon brotha!

Family and Friends of Group One: The first group has arrived safely in Lusaka after having the opportunity to explore some of the beauties of Livingstone including a safari trip to Botswana and one of the natural wonders of the world in Victoria Falls. They will be departing for London tomorrow morning, and we will keep you updated on their progress home! And now a blog post from Group Two’s very own, Erin Murphy

Melissa and her "sister friends"

As the three-hour mass at Our Lady of Fatima Church came to a close and we all processed out, with the harmonious sounds of the choir carrying us through the doors, I heard a distant chirp of, “ Erin! Erin! Erin,” (sounding more like “Elin”) coming from behind me. I searched through the sea of men chatting and the flock of women in their bright chitenges to find my ten-year-old friend, Charity, waving and smiling at me. She quickly grabbed my hand and asked me to come to her house for a visit. Since we had nothing planned for the day I enthusiastically accepted her offer and we set off on the short walk to her home.

When we arrived, Charity’s mother Harriet, her brother Richard, her sister Paxine and her new niece Gift, met me at the doorway. They all immediately embraced me with a cheerful, “Musana Mwane,” and told me to come in. As I entered their crowded 10×10 home, I couldn’t help but feel sad about what I considered their “poor living conditions.” However, they were not only happy to have this home but they were proud of it. Charity showed their family photos to me and pointed out how cool it was that the baby blanket she once used is the one that her new niece, Gift, was currently wrapped up in my arms with. After spending a few hours with these people and chatting about everything from Jackie Chan to our hopes and aspirations I couldn’t help but have a pit in my stomach for how I had approached this situation. I entered their home and immediately saw what they didn’t have instead of what they did have.

On my walk back to the convent I had time to reflect on my own ignorance and I began to realize just how much I see the worst parts of situations before I see the best parts. Living in America I believe that we all tend to see the glass as half empty much more frequently than we tend to see it as half full. How often does our need to point out people’s flaws keep us from admiring their talents? How often do we see a person as a stranger before we give them the chance to be our friend? How often does the poverty of a country prevent us from seeing the richness it has to offer? How often does the ugliness of the world blind us from seeing the beauty in it? Negativity and skepticism run our lives and in many cases they prevent us from seeing the best that this world has to offer. If we spend our lives as guarded and judgmental people we will miss out on all the goodness that is constantly surrounding us.

Here in Zambia we have been confronted with this “goodness” like a head-on collision. It is in the children that greet us at the gate every morning just to spend time with us. It is in the home-based care providers that spend their lives helping others. It is in the members of the computer class that want to be able to use technology to connect to the world around them. It is in the students in the leadership class that have a burning desire to improve their community. It is in the students who want nothing more than to go to school. It is in the gaggle of girls braiding our hair that ask to be our “sister friends.” It is in the families that welcome us into their homes and see the goodness in us despite our misgivings.

I think that everyone could use a lesson from the people of Zambia in appreciating everything that we have. I believe that if we all take the chance to reflect on our own lives we will realize that goodness actually, is all around.

Erin Murphy, Class of 2015

P.S. Mom, Dad, Maddie, Jack and Reggie I miss you all and cannot thank you enough for all that you do. You fill my life with more goodness than I could ever ask for. Who loves you more than me?

P.P.S. To the rest of my family and friends I want to let you know that I miss you dearly and cannot wait to be reunited with you all shortly.

It’s not the first time in my life I have felt like a minority, but it’s perhaps the most exhilarating. I feel the eyes on me as I walk through the dirt roads of Zambezi, some of them simply look curious, and others look tinted with a touch of hostility. Most all of them brighten into a smile when I wave or utter salutations in broken Luvale. From the beginning I get the thrill of challenging a preconception, and morphing my identity from the unknown chindele (Westerner), to at least a passing friendly stranger. When I don’t fit the role of the stereotype, I slowly regain my personhood. When I am appreciated for my personhood rather than my money or my role as a teacher, I feel loved.

I suppose it makes some sense then that I feel content here. There are few times in my life I have felt more privileged. Not privileged in the sense of having lots of material goods, but privileged to have come here with such a dedicated community, to have been welcomed by such characters as Father Dominic (whose incredible outgoing friendly and eccentric nature cannot be adequately described in one blog post, let alone a side note), and to receive love from a child for the easy price of holding their hand. I feel privileged to be in such a loving state, and I reflect on how many people in every society lack that feeling.

I am content here perhaps, but that is not to be mistaken for comforted. Being a part of such community means feeling a great deal of pain. To appreciate someone is to recognize you cannot take their pain away all the time, sometimes you can only feel it with them. As a group we have sympathized with Father Dominique as he faces the challenge of leaving the city of Livingstone that he loves to the city of Lusaka that he is less comfortable in. We have had our hearts broken by discovering sometimes the children who smile and interact with us haven’t had a meal that day. We even felt a spooky sense of grief for a married couple of American missionary pilots that we never met who lost their lives flying into Zambezi a week before we did. To care about someone is to make yourself vulnerable to their problems as well as your own. It’s not easy. But it feels. Right.

Taking this to a philosophical note, there is far too much concern that goes into labeling a person as good or bad. We all have our faults and our graces, and to judge whether our graces are enough to exceed our faults is like judging a commodity. We are not commodities. So let us say this. We as a people are meant to send and receive love. The more we do, the more empowered our graces are in overcoming our faults. We are meant to be loving and Love is not meant to be limited. Yet love is hard, it requires we feel pain with another person, it requires that we are patient with their faults, and it requires that we are shattered when we lost them. And so we constrain our love to our family and closest friends. We might be hurt less when we constrain our love in this way, but something feels missing. In America I feel we turn to consumerism of goods to fill this unidentified void, and other societies have other coping vices I’m sure. What is this void? It is the strain of constraining a force that is meant to be unbound.

Taking this to a Theological note, we are all made in God’s image. I forgot who said this, but I remember hearing a quote once stating “You only love God as much as you love your worst enemy.” Constraining our love is straying from our Purpose. While it may be impossible to love everyone, we should challenge ourselves to embrace the possibility of welcoming the story of the next stranger who knocks on our door (or the stranger who pulls our bus windows open trying to sell us a big wooden hippo). Guarding our hearts too much hardens them, when they are meant to be flooded and broken so much that they become moist and fester (though a more appropriate term for non-Group 2 people might be beautifully broken). And when we let someone be so important to us we should keep hope when they are lost because in the words of Annie Lennox’s song “Into the West,” “Don’t say, we have come now to the end, white shores are calling, you and I will meet again.”

It’s a matter of faith. It’s something big. It’s something that makes a Writing Track major write in terrible disjointed fragments. It’s something I felt in Zambezi.

-Kyle Holbrook

Class of 2013

P.S. Mom and Dad, thank you so much for your support in helping me to embark on such amazing travels. I miss you very much.

P.P.S. To the rest of my friends and family, my thoughts are with you often.

It begins with a heightened sense of perception about the way our lives move forward.

It begins with the conscious acknowledgment of those chance events occuring at just the right moment –- happenings that bring forth just the right individuals — to suddenly send our lives in a new and important direction.

We comprehend it the moment we start to assume that every event contains a significance that pertains to our questions.

It is a new way of thinking, a challenging approach of intention to every decision I make and every relationship I experience. And it has been developing in my fellow team members and me every day since our arrival to Zambezi.

While many, including myself, struggled with the “tourist” aspects of our first week in Africa, it is a comfort to know that without a doubt we were meant to finally arrive and be in the Zambezi community.

We were meant to encounter the men working construction during our morning run through the undeveloped fields past the river. We were meant to walk away from our conversation with them pondering the idea that while there is so much “searching” for happiness in America (usually resulting in the purchasing of superfluous items or cravings of a career-related promotion) the people of Zambia find it, know it, and enjoy it simply where they are.

We were meant to be placed amidst a group of children, most under the age of ten, who would choose to spend hours learning English from someone with no professional experience, passing around a single pen in a makeshift classroom, than play with their friends in the sand. I was meant to leave our daily lessons wondering why, in my elementary years and even in this past one, I have guiltily caught myself believing that school was always just the next step, something that I had and was expected to do; the Zambians, from Mister Severe who works in the Ministry of Education, to young Humble who runs around with no shoes and tattered clothes, know that “education is life” and without it there is nothing.

We were meant to hold the countless number of Zambian hands that stretch toward ours, whether in traditional greetings or children’s accompaniment, that create a literal action of physical contact representing a spiritual one of conscious connection between people. We were also meant to reflect in the uncomfort of soon after having to sanitize our own hands in what feels like sterilizing the bond just made.

We were meant to recognize what it feels like to be greeted with a smile by every single passerby on the hour walks to and from Chilena Basic School, thus coming to realize how “plugged in and zoned out” we each are when in my own area of comfort walking the streets back home.

We were meant to feel the sting of assumptions. We needed to recognize that the only way to combat the label of the disconnected, transactional “Western donor” is to intentionally seek deep and real relationships built on reciprocated understanding and the ability to not only serve, but allow oneself to be served.

We were meant to completely lose sense of time, something I will have to say I have adapted to quite easily. We were supposed to be here to experience, perhaps for the first time, what it really means to slow down and begin living. For me, to look at my life surrounded by many type A obsessions with work, extra-curriculars, and other stress-related commitments and remembering with sadness how skillfully I use my practical routine to distract myself from what matters, that is, the very thing that Zambians and Gonzaga students can understand without speaking a word: love.

We were meant to witness the power of the human connection through this love, not simply because someone is a relative or a dear friend, but for the mere fact we are all human — and all share in this very human compassion and desire to feel and give love.

As I was reading the prologue of a philosophy book (guess what Dad, turns out I’m not the only one who reads them for fun; this group has some great talks about life) I came across a story from the author’s childhood. He spoke of his last moments with his dying father and the advice the latter gave: “We are not our positions. We are not our possessions. All we have is love. All we are is love. And in seeing this, I am happy.”

And in a place where the positions are not of luxury and the possessions are certainly not of lavishness, yet so full of love and consideration for others (especially new chindele visitors to their country) I could not possibly think of a statement containing more truth.

So it is through seeing this love-in-action that a new system of thinking and viewing daily interaction takes shape, a new standard of love to live by. In some ways I would call it a renewed sense of faith in humanity, yet more appropriately I believe I shall consider it a guiding light to appreciate the beauty in my own life upon my return. I will always have questions and uncertainties; but I realize that what matters is taking the time to look to new people and experiences in search of understanding.

Brady Essmann

Class of 2014

PS – Mom, Pops & Anna – I am so sorry I didn’t have a chance to shoot you an email. I wrote a draft but the power has been out so I will send it when I can. Please know I am healthy and happy and eating very well. 🙂 And I miss you. Zambezi has such a strong sense of family and I often find myself describing you all to the people I meet. I love you.

Sam – Same goes for you, I am sorry for the lack of any sort of communication. Know that I think of you always and miss you a ton.

PS – Katie, we are all so excited to see some more Blackburns headed our way 😉 Congratulations!!!!

PPS – Mrs. Brunett, Paige wanted to tell you “Happy birthday, I miss you!” and that she wishes she could have been there to celebrate with you.

Be bold, be Zambitious. These were the first words I saw as I stepped off the plane in Zambia and even though our group had a good laugh at the phrase, it was one that has stuck in my mind for the past week.  Ambitious by definition is to have a strong desire for a specific goal, and as I repeated the phrase within my mind I asked myself “What does Zambitious mean to me? What am I looking to get out of my Zambezi experience?” They have been tough questions to answer and I struggled greatly to come up with anything during my time in Lusaka and Livingstone.  I was struggling to find my deepest desires.

The night before we arrived in Zambezi our group had a small reflection on how we were feeling before our journey.  I expressed to my peers that I was feeling extremely nervous for teaching in Zambezi as we were pioneering a new program in health education.  I exclaimed that not knowing how our program was going to work frightened me and was producing an anxious feeling deep within.  These feelings clouded my mind and blocked me from seeing the true light of Zambia but our discussion that night helped brighten my path. While our projects are vastly important in empowering the Zambian people, they are just as important in acting as vehicles to help establish relationships with the people in the community. No matter how unprepared I felt for our health program, this new vision to develop eye-level accompaniment cleared my mind and pointed me in the direction of my true longings. I want to be the best teacher I can be, but with that I find myself wanting to be the best student as well, all while forming a connection that will never be forgotten. I truly found my aspirations that night.  One could even say I found my inner Zambitions.

Although I have only been in Zambezi for a mere two days, I have allowed my newly discovered desires to guide me through our African journey.  Every moment I spend with a Zambian I push myself to live in the moment and develop a real, deep relationship, one that will stay with me for the rest of my life.  I am excited to teach children as well as home-based caregivers about health and using it as a means to bond with the people. I realize that Zambia has so much to offer and I am eager to see what it has in store for me in the future.

Be bold, be Zambitious,

Alex Dickman, Class of 2014

P.S.

Ma, Pops and Sam, I love you guys so much and am thinking of you guys everyday! None of this would be possible without you guys and I want to thank you all for being so amazing and supportive.  I can’t wait to see you guys in month and hopefully I will be able to give you a call from Paris!

P.P.S.

Keep updating me with all of the NBA news! I see that it’s going to be OKC from the west and hopefully my boys down in South Beach can come back and force a game 7. Heat all the way! Ha thanks again, love you guys!