zambian christianity.

Emmanuel is the pastor of one of the churches in Kasama, Zambia. He helps out with the charity as well, and he was a wonderful friend to have during our stay there.

We visited his church one Sunday. The Sunday school lesson came first. It was all about whether women should be permitted to wear pants. The general consensus was no, unless she had to for work or something. I sat there listening, and I couldn't stop thinking about how I was so so so grateful that my long skirt had been clean that morning and that that was what I was wearing at that moment. That could have been awkward.

The singing came next. The singing was awesome. It was all in Bemba, but the lady next to me had a hymnbook and I figured out pretty quick how the pronunciation worked for Bemba (it shares the same alphabet as English). So I clapped and swayed and sang and had no idea what I was singing, but all around, it was still pretty darn fun. The lady next to me was very impressed. Or that's what she told me anyways.

The sermon was in a mixture of Bemba and English. The lady next to me translated parts of it for me. The best part of that chunk of time wasn't even the sermon though. The young African woman next to me was holding a week-old baby in her arms. I could not stop looking at that baby. It had beautiful skin, a cute little pug nose, perfectly shaped cherub lips. It was maybe the most adorable baby I've ever seen (with the exception of my little seester, of course). And then when the woman stood up half-way through the sermon to chase down a little boy, she handed me her baby with a smile. I got to hold the baby through most of the sermon. It was one of the most heart-warming feelings I've ever felt. She was just such a helpless, innocent, beautiful piece of humanity--and I was cradling her in my arms.

After church, you shake hands with everybody. Everybody. It's just a long line of hand-shaking, and after you get done, you join the line and continue shaking hands with everybody who's behind you.

Geoffrey attends Emmanuel's church, and we got to meet his mother as well as his sweet fiancee. Both Geoffrey and his fiancee have wonderful voices and they had sung together during the service. Beautiful. It was so cool to get to meet his fiancee as Geoffrey talks about her all the time. He's currently saving up for her dowry (They really do use the cow system. I can't really remember, but I think he's paying five or six cows to his fiancee's family to marry her).

Our group (sans Nick) with Geoffrey's mother, Geoffrey's fiancee, and Geoffrey.

Later that week, Emmanuel had us over to his house for dinner. His wife and children ate in a separate room--definitely a reminder of the cultural difference. They prepared us a meal of some traditional dishes. Nick and Jeff had eaten at his place earlier in the month and told the rest of us that we got off easy (no ants or anything else that was too weird). We got a picture with him and his family.

el grupo con Emmanuel and his family.

Right before we left, Emmanuel talked to us for a little bit in which he thanked us for our service. He told us that he knew it was a sacrifice for us. He had spent some time in Germany, so he told us that he knew and understood what we were giving up to be there. 

It made me feel a little guilty, honestly. That he was thanking us for giving up modern conveniences for a month while he lived without them permanently. That he was so hospitable despite knowing how we really lived our lives. See, most Africans assume that we are richer, just because we are American. But they don't really know how we live. How does someone who has lived out in the bush for their entire life imagine a skyscraper,  a typical American middle-class kitchen, a computer game? They don't. But Emmanuel has seen it and so he knows. And it just felt so backwards for him to be thanking us. It seemed backwards for his family to be serving us dinner, to see that customary smile break across his face and across the faces of his children. 

I've learned perhaps more than ever that international development is such a complicated issue. That there is much to be done. But I've also learned that it's possible to be miserable in almost any situation, rich or poor. It's also possible to be happy.