Moses.

I was walking to church with a friend the other day and she told me that she is HIV-positive.  She told me how the only man she’s ever loved gave her the virus without even telling her his status.  She told me how she lived in denial for a year after finding out, refusing to take the medicine that would keep her healthy and help her live longer.  She told me how the only reason she finally started taking them was her faith in Jesus.  She told me how she gets splitting headaches and sores and rashes.  She told me how she goes to the hospital by herself.  She told me how she takes her medicine twice a day.  She told me how she has to forgive the man who gave her this disease because he’s dead and she’s still alive. 

She told me all this with the most beautiful grace I’d ever seen.  And then we went to church where she danced and sang; a smile never leaving her face.

Charity and her sister Brenda told me about a 14-year-old girl named Memory, from the school where Brenda teaches, who died the other day.  They told me how she was born HIV-positive.  They told me how her parents both died when she was young, and none of her older siblings would take care of her because of her status.  They told me how this girl came to school every day and gave Brenda a hug.  They told me how she worked hard and never complained.  They told me how the school had no idea she was sick or why she suddenly stopped coming to school.  They told me how this girl sat in a hospital room for the last month of her life, and not a single family member visited her.  They told me how the nurses and doctors adopted her as if she was their own.  They told me how, at the funeral, these same nurses and doctors talked of her smile and how she sang worship songs during her final hours.  They told me how her family brought her nothing but a torn school shirt to bury her in.  They told me how the teachers at the school came together and raised money for that little girl’s funeral.

They told me all this as we drove through the dusty, bumpy roads of the compound where most of my Ndola students live.  The pain and frustration of living in this country that they love so much was clear on their faces and in their words.

My precious students come from many different backgrounds, but most of them have known more pain in their short 7, 10, or 14 years than I can possibly fathom.  One student was abandoned by his mother when she remarried a man who didn’t feel like taking care of her children.  Another student stays with his uncles and grandmother because his mother has lost her mind and can no longer take care of him.  One of our older students was removed from school for months at a time so he could instead go to the city to make money for his family.  Most of them wear the same tattered clothing every day.  They have cuts and bruises all over their bodies.  Many of them only eat once a day, at school.  And I’m sure some of them are HIV-positive due to the poor decisions of their parents, who are long gone by now.

And still they come.  They come to school and laugh with their friends.  They learn Bible verses and songs about how much Jesus loves them.  They follow me around like baby chicks, clamoring to be the one to hold my hand.  They giggle when I try to speak in Bemba and every day they ask, “Please, Teacher Amy, come eat nshima with us!”

This has become my norm.  This chasm of difference.  And most days I am able to move past it.  Most days I can focus on being the change; the blessing.  Most days I can distract myself with the tasks of teaching and loving these precious humans.  But some days I am broken.  Some days the injustice catches in my chest and I can barely breathe.  Some days I fall to my knees asking God why.  Why is my story so different from theirs?  Why did I get to grow up in a loving, safe home with both of my parents?  Why was going to school never a question for me?  Why have I been spared so much pain and fear and suffering??

And then I remember Moses.

Moses, the Hebrew child who was spared.  Who miraculously avoided the death that so many others suffered.  Who lived a life of luxury in the palace of Pharaoh instead of the life of slavery he was born into.  Who woke up one day and saw the chasm.  Who could take it no longer and demanded justice.  Who met God face to face and was finally blessed with an answer to his why’s.  Not because he was special or because God loved him more than the other Hebrews.  Not so that he could simply live a life of indulgence and never look back.  But so that he could save them all.  So that he could bring justice and grace and favor to an entire people group.  So that he could perform miracles.  So that he could live a life of purpose, not pleasure. 

I am Moses.  I was spared.  I am privileged in a world of impoverished.  And I pray that I see God’s face every day.  I pray that I never settle into comfort.  I pray that I bring justice and grace and favor to every person I meet in this beautifully broken world.

I pray.

101.

It’s been over a month and I’m still trying to find the right words to describe this whole experience.  For now, I figured these were some things you should know about life here in Zambia:

1.  I am temporarily staying with the Banda family in Luanshya (a very small town where our 2^nd school is located).  There are 6 of us staying in the house: John and Charity (who run Haven of Hope), their 5 year old son, Daniel, their niece, Womba and their nephew, Adolf.
2. It’s cold here.  Really cold.  From 18:00 when the sun goes down till about 10:00 the next day you can find me bundled up in as many layers as possible.  This is because we are currently in Zambia’s “winter,” although it works more like America’s fall in that some of the trees lose their leaves and it’s quite windy.
3. There are people walking EVERYWHERE at EVERY minute of the day.  Children walking to school, woman carrying giant bundles on their head, men making their way to the mines, or friends just passing time.  Hiking (aka hitch-hiking) is quite common in Zambia, and there are always truck beds filled to capacity with people coming to and from work.
4. When you don’t feel like walking, you hail a taxi for a whopping $0.60.  There are legit taxis and then random people with cars who want to make some extra cash.  They honk at you to let you know they have an open seat and then continue honking during the drive until their car is full.  These cars generally have broken window shields due to the poor road conditions and the passenger’s side is usually covered in stickers supporting the driver’s favorite football team.
5. Nshima is the staple meal in Zambia.  It’s ground up maize that is then made into “cakes” that look like mashed potatoes but are thicker.  You eat this with your hands and dip it into the “relishes” of meat or vegetables.  Most people in Zambia eat nshima twice a day if they can afford it, and consider any other meal without it just a snack.
6. There are over 73 tribes in Zambia, many of which are known for a specific type of strange food that they eat.  For example, the Bembas are known for eating monkeys and the Nsengas for eating rats, although most people don’t actually follow these traditions.  The other day, I was asking our students which tribe their families come from and a large majority said Bemba (the most common tribe in our part of Zambia).  John, a child from the Chirwa tribe, jokingly said we should start buying monkeys to cook at school so that all our Bemba students would be happy.
7. Because of the many different tribes, most Zambians can speak 3-4 different languages, depending on their family’s tribal heritage.  I always cringe when people ask me how many languages I can speak.  Oh America and our “we only need to know English!” mindset.
8. Zambian time is MUCH different than American time.  If you know me at all, you know that I’m pretty much always late; but here, I’m pretty much always early.  Because in Zambia, being on time is being early and being 15 minutes late is being on time.  The pace of life is completely different and most people knock off (end their day) by 16 or 17 hours.  The rest of the night is devoted to resting, working in the garden, playing and eating dinner.
9. Everyone wants to go to America.  Even in the poorest communities, you will see satellite dishes outside mud homes, and these people are mostly watching American television.  Because they admire America so much, EVERYONE wants to get to know me.  I’ve already had multiple taxi drivers ask for my number so that we can be friends and I can tell them all about America.  For an introverted girl, this is a strange phenomenon.
10. An average teacher’s salary at the government schools is 1.5 million kwacha, or about $300 a month.  Before taxes.
11. HIV/AIDS is still extremely high in Zambia, but most people still don’t talk about it.  There are still many myths surrounding the virus, which keeps people from getting the help that they need.  Many people are afraid to admit that they are HIV positive, but I was blessed the other day to have a new friend open up to me about her status.  It was not easy, but knowing that she trusted me enough to be honest was huge.  It’s hard to wrap your mind around a disease that causes so much devastation.
12. A major backlash of HIV/AIDS is the millions of orphans left in its wake.  It is extremely common for children to move from house to house, living with extended family members temporarily until a better situation is found.  The family unit is extremely strong in Zambia, and it often makes asking a child about their family very complicated.  For example, if I ask a student how many brothers and sisters he has, he’ll most likely count all of his cousins and any other children that live in his household.
13. Zambian people are the strongest people I’ve ever met.  Physically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally.  If you could see the conditions some of these people live in, or could hear their stories, you would be dumbfounded.  And yet, they are the friendliest people in the world.  They ALWAYS have smiles on their faces.  They sing the most beautiful songs you’ll ever hear.  And they dance with more joy than I’ve ever seen. 

So there you go.  A quick glimpse into my world.  I truly believe I was made for this place; or it was made for me.  I have not once felt uncomfortable or regretted the decision to move here.  I love everything about my new life in Zambia, and I can’t believe I get to call it home.  I am making true, trustworthy friends that I can be myself around, I am learning something new every day, and I am blessed with the ability to come alongside our teachers and students to help them reach the next level in education.  God is good and I’m so excited to continue sharing this journey and this place with all of you!