One Month In, Five to Go!

We have officially been here for a month now. As expected, time is beginning to fly by quicker and quicker each week. We have fallen into a general routine here; the girls going to school to teach 7th graders in the morning and the guys heading out to the work site to make bricks for the new school. At lunch we meet up again and sometimes help out with the meal program at the school. In the afternoon we participate in some sort of after-school program. Sometimes it’s a reading program, other times it’s some sort of club, like Scripture Club or dancing. We run whatever errands we need to in town and then return home for the night to spend time with our families and, for Amanda and I, to plan lessons for the following day. The boys’ schedule will change beginning next week, as they will start some more pastoral work, but it’s safe to say we’re pretty settled into life here.

But not without continued learning and constant thought about what we are experiencing. This past week has been a really good time for me to learn more about the teachers and students at the school. One day this week I had the opportunity to talk with Head Teacher Ngoma during our break about what is going on at the school. The progress continues to amaze me. He said that the Zambian government is finally starting to recognize the work that is going on at the community school; it is providing an education to children that the government itself can’t. Another aid organization has provided desks for the classrooms after seeing that most of the students were sitting on the floor before. The meal program is stable and even continues to provide food to the most vulnerable children at the school during the months when school is not in session. And yet there is still so much need in Twapia. Teacher Ngoma began to tell me more about the home life of each student in our class. Nearly every one of the eight has lost at least one parent, several of them have lost both. He even told me that Akeema, a younger girl at the school whom many North Parkers remember, was forced to watch her mother die right before her eyes last year and is now a very troubled girl. I was talking to Teacher Loveness later that same day, and she told me that the boy who passed away when our first group was here was joined by his mother this past year as well. When I asked Teacher Ngoma what caused most of these deaths, he said HIV/AIDS. It is linked very closely with the poverty that exists in Zambia. Nearly an entire generation is being wiped out by this disease, and those who are forced to deal with the consequences left behind sit in our classroom everyday. It reminds me of the significance of what the school is trying to do: bring hope and a future to those left behind. And somehow in some way, by the power of God, it is succeeding. Maybe not in the way this world demands, but the simple fact that these kids continue coming to school is proof of that. They don’t have to come. Most of them could find more immediate benefit by rummaging through scrap metal to sell or some other means of survival. But they come to school. One girl in our class, Joyce, walks one hour one-way everyday to school. And she’s there everyday. Another girl in our class, Doris, was almost forced into a fixed marriage, dowry and all. She’s sixteen. Somehow Teacher Ngoma or one of the teachers from the school convinced her parents that she needed an education first. And so she continues coming to school now. The simple fact that these children can laugh even after all they’ve been through and with all the stakes set against them is a testament to the spirit of the Zambian people. There is such perseverance and patience for progress. And if someone like Teacher Ngoma--who is a Zambian with the means to live beyond the poverty of this country but yet has chosen to be surrounded by it everyday—does not get used to the injustices going on and does not lose hope and passion to change things, then how can I—an American who has lived in comfort my entire life with more than what I need and has only experienced this place for a month—get used to the overwhelming struggles of the people here and decide that there is nothing I can do to help?

Teacher Ngoma said something the first week we were here that has stuck with me ever since. He was teaching the seventh grade class about self-esteem. He told the students that they are special. This is proven by the fact that we came all the way from the U.S. to help them—even when there are many children right in the U.S. that need help. Therefore God is showing them that they are special. This is a perspective I have never taken, but it is so true. So often we look at Africa and the overwhelming poverty and take pity on the poor people who live here. We help them because they need it so badly. But really, I could have chosen to stay in the U.S. to help children there. Teacher Ngoma is right. There is plenty of need there too. But I’m in Zambia because there is something so special about the people here. Something in my heart pulls me here to these special people. It’s not just that they’re poor and needy; they’re valuable and special to me. Until Americans and people around the world start looking at the people of Africa that way, as valuable people who have something to contribute rather than just “poor people” who need so much help, we won’t help them in any way. We have to see them as people. We have to learn their stories and be quiet. I’m thankful that Teacher Ngoma could explain why I am here better than I could; because the people here are special and I believe in the future they can have and make for themselves.

So that’s part of what’s been happening here. My passion for what is going on here is continuing to grow, and I know that God has me right where he wants me to be in my life right now. By losing myself in all of this, I am learning to find myself. For the first time in my life, I’m beginning to practice dying to myself to live for Christ everyday. I can’t be caught up in myself here because I won’t do anything worthwhile if I am. And I’m finding that to die for Christ is gain. I’m nowhere near mastering it and probably never will…but I’m at least realizing that it’s a true statement: to die for Christ is gain. It’s becoming more of a reality to me.

Thanks for reading,
Rox