Settling In

Our new "home in the rain"

When the rains come, plowing begins

We're now into the second phase of our Journey here as we begin to put down roots. On 16 November we took Marian to the Livingstone Airport for her departure with Gene doing his first driving here. The trip went fine and he managed to stay on the left side of the road. The only glitch was in Livingstone where he turned onto a one-way street and we were immediately met by a chorus of "One way!" from a group of taxi drivers. The situation was quickly remedied and we were back where we needed to be.

Upon arrival back home we began the process of moving from the Guest House into the main house which we anticipate will be our home for the next two years.

We've been settling in, learning the people in the neighborhood, getting acquainted with our domestic help and generally figuring out how to do life in this setting.  Gene has spent a lot of time putting the pieces of the Financial Secretary work together.  Marian's last days here were so filled with people stopping in to say "Farewell" that a considerable bit of anticipated orientation didn't occur.  So we're working through it now.  We're thankful for  for Marian's willingness to respond to our cries for help via email.  One of the issues left hanging was getting his signature on the bank account but that was finally resolved on Thursday.  He was also able to finally get his work permit the previous weekend.  The only item yet to do is get our ID card once the local officials return from registering people in the "bush" (remote villages) at year's end.

We're enjoying the enthusiastic and free-spirited atmosphere of the Sunday services here at the Nahumba BIC church where we will be attending.  There's just nothing like the solid sound of African voices lifted in praise to Jesus.  Perhaps we can attach a video or audio clip to this blog once we record some of the singing. Oh yes, yesterday Gene worshiped with a dog sleeping at his feet during the service.

Friday morning we learned that Bishop Hamukang'andu's wife's brother, Silas, had died.  We knew earlier in the week that this was expected.  Gene changed his plans for the day and drove several of the local women up to the compound of Zambia Sugar at Mazabuka, several hours away, for the funeral.  The day was long, there were people to care for and he ended up driving home into the setting sun and before long it was dark and he drove most of the way at night, arriving home around 8:30.  Gene: "I don't think I have ever prayed more or felt more vulnerable than in that setting.  The glare from oncoming traffic (there seemed to be an unusual amount of vehicles),  people, animals and vehicles immediately at road-side, partially on the road, or on the road, the absence of distinct lines on the left hand edge of the road all combined to make it the most horrendous driving experience I've ever had.  And get this - if you forget to lower your headlights and the oncoming vehicle blinks you, when you lower yours, they put theirs back on HIGH and blast you the whole way!  A great assurance during the journey was the specific prayer of the one who gave the closing prayer at the funeral for 'God's angels to surround all those who will be driving their vehicles back home.'  We arrived without incident and gave glory to God. I have decided that I will not drive beyond Choma at night.  There is just too much risk." 

The funeral itself was an amazing experience.  First of all there is a whole lot more vocal expression of grief than in our discreet American setting.  However, it was evident that the wailing was not of the desperate, hopeless variety that one hears from those who have no faith in Jesus Christ.  At the cemetery there was a large open pavilion next to the grave area and the THIRD service of the day was still being conducted there while the several hundred people of our group began to arrive for the service.  When they moved out, taking the casket to the grave, then our service began.  We knew that people were dying in large numbers here due to AIDS but to actually see the scale of it in this setting was striking.

There were four more open graves already dug even as we were burying.  Once the casket was in the ground, young men covered it with earth and the ladies choir surrounded the grave mound and sang while they gently patted it.  Then, in turn, various groups, family, co-workers, church members were called to place flowers on the grave. While all this was going on at the graveside, a lady moved among the crowd collecting money for the family.

And so it goes.  Much new to experience. Much to learn. Much to receive from the people of this land.

Mweende kabotu (Travel well)