Ntumbachushi Falls and the Mutomboko Ceremony

I have very few good pics of the Mutomboko Ceremony to share. This pic was taken at sunset just after His Royal Highness Mwata Kazembe danced "The Victor's Jump" (the meaning of Mutomboko).


This dance is the culmination of a few days of celebration. Early in the day we went to the Luapula River to watch the royal family throw fresh game meat into the river to appease the spirits of Lunda warriors who died during the tribal wars a couple centuries ago. The event was dusty and beautiful and not without its own sadness. As we trudged home with crowds of locals we passed a trash pit where a boy was carefully sorting rotten sweet potatoes from less rotten sweet potatoes to take home for dinner.


The little girls in these pics were selling juice and scones before the event and provided lots of entertainment. I held their baby brother for the better part of an hour while drunken revelers stumbled in and out of local bars.


Lonely Planet and other guides, eat your hearts out! Or, at least, check this place out! The falls, the ancient rock paintings, the natural pools waiting for swimmers?!? GORGEOUS! And I have not seen them mentioned in any of the guidebooks. Shame. By the way, all of you marketers out there.... or IT savvy folk... I hate how tacky my pics are arranged on this blog. Lacking serious aesthetic attention, but if you only knew HOW LONG it takes me to upload these pics you would understand the lack of artistic merit. Sufficient explanation?!

Bana Mwana

That’s me. Bana Mwana, which means “mother of baby.” I fell in love with this little tike this week. He has the best mouth and smile and laugh. He has a lazy eye and has trouble focusing at times, which ate up my soul as I realized that if this boy lived in the U.S. or if he was born to a wealthy Zambian family, he would likely have access to all kinds of treatment that could help him to see clearly. He was fascinated by my white skin and earrings and was delightfully content to sit on my lap, watching the world go by.

While in Mumbwa (pic from local cave dwelling that dates back a couple hundred years) I was impressed by a wonderful group of people that have been building a new UCZ (United Church of Zambia) church building, brick by brick, for the last 7 years. For the most part, people here are poor farmers and their faithfulness is humbling.

The class we are teaching has 20 students in it and this morning I was greeted in 6 different languages: Ila, Nyanga, Bemba, Tonga, Lozi, and English. I’m pathetic. I’ve got English with a smattering of Spanish and Bemba whereas most people here can speak at least 3 or 4 languages fluently.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the homogenization of culture. I was at “Arcades” in Lusaka this week, which is a strip mall full of South African chain stores. It could easily be transported to Route 1 in Jersey. Rich folk (who think they have average wealth) flit from one store to the next with shopping bags slung over their shoulders, laughing and chattering with their friends as they make lunch plans via cell phone. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the familiarity of it all. At Arcades I eat familiar food, see familiar clothing and connect with friends and fam at a local internet cafe, but there is NOTHING Zambian about the place. Have you noticed that this is happening in the U.S. as well? Strip malls with the similar chain stores make a small community in rural Idaho look like Salt Lake City or Atlanta or Minneapolis. Nothing unique. With “development” seems to come the homogenization of culture. Is this what we are coming to? Automatons driving our gas-guzzling cars to and from work and chain stores to buy and eat and consume, consume, consume all the things the magazines tell us are “fashionable”? Bleh.

BTW, they are called “Awfuls” for a reason. SICK. I went to a butcher’s shop in Mumbwa (it also sold drinks and some friends and I were looking for cokes) and a man was stuffing entrails into a clear plastic sack. You know what are weird to look at? Stomachs. Cow stomachs are brown and sort of hairy. Yuck, yuck, yuck. People are brave to eat these things. The man buying the awfuls smirked at me and said, “What, you only eat steak?”

Opani

Basically these suckers are like small alligators. Their skin is leathery and snake-like. Some workers found this in a stream near my house and killed it this afternoon. My friend Muyunda is a Lozi and was eager to take this home and eat it as “relish.” This launched my coworkers and I into a hilarious conversation about what the various tribes are notorious for eating. The Bemba’s are teased for eating monkey and mfuko (mice). Muyanda sighed and said to me, “Aaaah Carmen, the foods we eat in Africa.”

Welcome Family!

What's up with Ex-Peace Corps Volunteers?!?! My cousins Joel and Katherine, along with their darling little 2 1/2 year old baby Versellies arrived with my father in Zambia last week. We have had a wonderful week together and it would not have been nearly as adventurous sans cousins. Joel was especially interested in Zambian fare, so one evening we brought home some caterpillars from the market and some beer made from ground maize (CHEAP, fermented home-brew) called Chibuku Shake Shake. What a great name!

No, we did not let Versellies drink the Shake Shake, but she was a great little eater and even enjoyed nshima (the porridge-like staple food generally eaten twice a day in Zambia). I love this pic of my dad and I after trying the earthy-tasting caterpillars. They really arent't all that bad, we are just whimps.




















We visited Chimfunci, the chimpanzee orphanage, which was just as fantastic as the first visit. They really are incredible creatures with so much personality.

Katherine is a secondary school teacher and was curious about the local education system, so we visited my friend Hamweenzu at a local basic school (Zambian version of elementary). The students are starved for materials and there are entirely too many little one's squished at each desk, but the teachers do an admirable job despite the challenges. My father was a physical education teacher, so was rather depressed to see that Hamweenzu has only 3 balls (that is ALL the equipment to which he has access) to use for more than 2300 kids' physical education.



















On Sunday I preached in the bush and the visitors were treated as guests of honor-- seated at the front of the church behind me, the preacher. The children of the church were sitting on a grass mat at the front of the church when we entered, but they were "chased" to the back during the service. Just before I began to teach Reverend Chimfwembe and I invited the little one's back to the front to get their own short lesson and story.

The church is in a rural area and the congregation is made up of about 50 people, all very poor farmers, that looked fatigued and hungry. It was rather humbling to then go to a congregants home where a large traditional meal was prepared for my family. The generosity of the people I encounter constantly overwhelms me. Zambia is a place of philial love.

Drunker than skunks!

In Zambia there is this great saying that I find to be proven true over and over again: "Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet." Everywhere I go--- kitchen parties, church, a ride on a local minibus--- I make new friends. People so welcoming (the exact opposite of my experience on the streets of NYC). New Yorkers would freak out here. I met these hysterical ladies at a kitchen party over the weekend...

The bride was Jehova's Witness, so there were no drums (which was weird--recorded music was allowed, but no traditional drums). In retaliation ("you can't dance without drums") lots of ladies snuck cheap liquor into the event and filled coke and fanta bottles with the fiery liquid and got a little tipsy. :-) I love Zambia.

Kitty Lost and Found

Franky decided to take a brief hiatus from captivity and had me feeling like a dead-beat “mom.” My friend Micke texted me, “Don’t worry about the cat. Cat’s are like women: they need their space, but they always come back when their credit cards are canceled.” Ha Ha. The kids in the neighborhood helped make signs and hunted all over the neighborhood. Thankfully Franky showed up last night, beat-up, but in one piece. He was hungry and eager for shelter, so I suppose Micke was right. Rotten cat. Rotten Micke.

On the one hand, life has been rather mundane: doing a little teaching, playing a little Settler’s of Catan, and shooting a little film. On the other hand, there has been lots of sad things: the loss of a baby and a professor, spending time with women in the local prison is haunting (how does one talk about freedom and hope in a place so depleted of soul?), and my 17 year-old friend Mirinda, 7 months pregnant, is debating whether or not to become the second wife of the man who impregnated her. She doesn't want to marry him, but she is cold and hungry and sleeps on the ground at night. My friend Peg reminded me of this quote by Henri Nouwen and is seems rather apropos:

"Our faithfulness will depend on our willingness to go where there is brokenness, loneliness, and human need. If the church has a future it is a future with the poor in whatever form."

I'm not trying to be stupidly moralistic. I believe Nouwen is right.

Filming with Jane

I have a new friend visiting from Britain and she asked me to join her for an afternoon of filming yesterday. She is putting together a short documentary about a family that lives in a compound here in Kitwe. I taught all morning in a local church and then rushed home for a quick switch of clothes and roles. I rather like the denim and camera version of me—it allows for a different manner of storytelling.

The girls dressed up for the occasion (as you can see) and were eager to be on camera. The family recently opened a brick-making business using some new energy-efficient equipment (requires no petrol, very little cement, and uses local soil that can be dug from your own front yard). The bricks are much more hearty than the porous ones typically used that crumble after only a few rainy seasons. The hope is that this business and these bricks will improve the quality of life for the broader community.

OPPORTUNITIES FOR GIVING

Principles that guide “good giving” aren’t as straightforward as you might think, so allow me to share some basic lessons I have learned in the last six months!

THREE BASIC RULES IN GIVING:

1. EFFECTIVE GIVING CREATES CAPACITY, NOT DEPENDENCY!

GOOD GIVING: Invest in projects, people, and organizations that promote self-sustaining activities. Empower people. Equip people. Avoid making contributions that are not usable or replaceable without your assistance.

WHERE WE MESSED UP: American clothing donations flooded Zambian markets in the 1990’s and despite good intentions, this served to ruin the Zambian textile industry. Garments produced locally could not “compete” with free used clothing that poured in from abroad. When we give we must be careful that our donations are not doing more harm than good! Buy local and encourage others to support local businesses!

2. LET THOSE RECEIVING AID TELL YOU WHAT THEY NEED!

GOOD GIVING: This notion may sound very obvious, but I’ve seen countless examples of people giving, albeit generously, items that were never needed in the first place.

WHERE WE MESSED UP: I spoke with a Malawian physician recently who laughed as she recalled an American church that came to do a short-term mission project in her hospital. They brought dozens of boxes of old medical equipment that are now collecting dust in a corner of the hospital. Why, you ask? Because the equipment is simply not usable in their context! It was not what they really needed.

The hospital focused on delivering healthy babies to healthy mothers. The life expectancy of the average Malawian is 35. Disease and malnutrition are pressing issues and the American church failed to address the real needs of Malawians in that community. Let those receiving aid tell you what they need!

For more info on Malawi, check out info on the World Health Organization website: http://www.who.int/countries/mwi/en/

3. THINK PRACTICAL, NOT EXTRAVAGANT!

GOOD GIVING: Have you seen the fantastic statistics on micro-lending? This is effective giving. Women in rural areas tend to be the recipient of micro-loans and these loans (often providing money to create self-sustaining, productive farms and small businesses) are improving community life all over the developing world!

WHERE WE MESSED UP: A wealthy church in Canada wanted to give a million dollars to support hospitals in Zimbabwe. They wanted strict control over where the money was spent, but in the meanwhile, they did not consider the fact that a huge lump-sum like this can do more harm than good. Corruption is rampant in nearly every sector of society (not just in Zimbabwe—this seems to be an issue all over Africa). Money was siphoned into the deep pockets of some wealthy managers and ended up failing to support local hospitals. “Control” by the giver isn’t the answer. The answer is partnership. Develop relationships with an organization. Find out the needs of the organization and together discover practical ways that you can meet these needs. Think financially small. Think relationally big!

La La La La Luapula

Just returned from the rural Luapula Province where fishing, witchcraft, and cholera flourish. Local guides casually mention Archaeological sites from the Early Stone Age as if prehistoric rock paintings and tools are rather mundane and not worth much fuss. I tromped through rivers and waterfalls throughout the area and enjoyed a day off along the banks of beautiful Lake Bangweulu where curious fisherman drew their boats close to investigate the white woman lounging about in the sun, book in hand, looking very self-indulgent and bourgeois.

While I was in Samfya teaching a course in a small church that reeked of acrid ammonia courtesy of dozens of bats that dance in the rafters at dusk, we were alerted of a cholera outbreak in the community. Cholera devastates communities because they initiate fishing bans and bans on fishing means that people go hungry. Brutal. The minister had to go attend to a number of families in the congregation who were sick and suddenly bereft of loved ones. By the time we left about 30 people had died.

We traveled to a village called Mununga, which is proudly touted as the “heartland of witchcraft” in Zambia. People told me all sorts of stories about people turning into crocodiles and eating enemies and curses and charms and all kinds of black medicine. I attended my first exorcism, which is another story in itself, but I can offer the short version in one mass generalization: the West tends to psychologize and medicalize evil and human fragility whereas Africa personifies it. Demons and talking snakes and flying witches are a part of people’s daily lives and serve to explain all kinds of illness and hardship.

We stayed in a rather disgusting guesthouse where condom packages littered the ground and the stench of pit latrines lingered in my room at night. I wrote in my journal that first night, “We must be about two turns and a few kilometers from hell.” I had a good laugh when I found out that the name of this guesthouse is “God Knows.” But as my mom used to say, “Things always look brighter in the morning.” As we made our way to the church for our first seminar I had dozens of children following me around like lemmings. The toddlers were afraid and refused to get too close and I made some babies cry, but I eventually made friends with these small chaps. By day 2 we were playing “Nkoko, Nkoko, Chibata” (Duck, Duck, Goose) and by day 3 a massive heard of children were waiting on the doorstep of the church, ready to play with the muzungu when we arrived for our final day of teaching.

Interested in more info about wealth/health disparity in the world? Check out this website: http://www.gapminder.org/gapminder-world.html

Here are some pics from the last couple of weeks: mamas cooking nshima and villagers eager to have their pics taken.