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. 

Chishimba Falls

On one of our last days in Zambia, we visited Chishimba Falls. It was BEAUTIFUL.

Before we drove to the falls, Tobias and Geoffrey stopped at the grocery store--they were going to give us a real African BBQ experience.

When we finally there, I hadn't been planning on going to see the actual falls (lame, I know) as I was running quite low on cash and I still had a week to go in Zanzibar. However, when the head honchos decided to let me pay the significantly cheaper "Zambian" entry price, I ended up getting to see them after all.

For that singular achievement, Geoffrey ended up giving me a Bemba name--Mutale.

first set of falls.

one of the sets of rapids. 

pathway to the second set of falls.

second set of falls. i could have stayed right here for ages and ages. 

I was really glad I got the chance to see the falls. I guess if I hadn't, I wouldn't have known what I was missing really though. It's sad, but honestly, pictures just don't do things like that justice.

While Sam, Sean, and I were out exploring the falls (Nick and Jeff had seen them earlier before the rest of us had gotten to Zambia), Tobias and Geoffrey were busy grilling a chicken and some strips of beef.

eating lunch.
Tobias is the one on the left and Geoffrey is the one on the right. 

We ate the food, burning our fingers and all that jazz. It was good--as long as you got the meat that was fully cooked. I'm a slightly paranoid American, so I was little wary of anything that looked even slightly pink.

It was a good way to start finishing up our stay in Zambia. Tobias and Geoffrey are seriously awesome people and great employees of the charity, and it was fun to just hang out with them and the rest of the group.

a sea of children.

I think this was the last school we visited in Zambia that was out in the bush. It was probably one of my favorite schools. I have no idea what is called anymore--oops. I guess that's what I get for never writing in a journal and waiting three months to write about it.

The charity we worked with sponsored teachers to come all the way out here and teach. It was just so cool to see these kids learning and smiling and laughing. Their happiness is just infectious.

A sea of adorable children!

SO MANY HAPPY KIDS.

These children are just adorable. They don't speak much, if any, English, but they will still smile at you and shout "MZUNGU! MZUNGU!"

Sometimes they're really shy and they won't make eye contact. Other times they'll just slip up behind you and put their hand in yours. They'll follow you around and if you smile at them, they'll shout and laugh before running away.

Sean brought a couple bags of candy with us from the States and we handed it out to them once they were seated back in a classroom. They sang songs for us--there were so many of them and they all sang so loudly that it was almost painful.

Sitting in class. 

Lots of happy kids with their "sweets."

I honestly think that is one of my favorite memories in Africa. Listening to those children sing. 

ancient rock art.

During one of our stays in Kasama, Tobias took us to see some ancient rock paintings.

There are over 700 paintings on this stretch of land, most of them thought to be painted by the Twa tribe (hunter-gatherers) around 1500 years ago.

Obviously, Zambia has changed so much since then. And in some ways, it is still shockingly the same. When we pulled up, there was a young woman leaning against a shack of a building. We paid for her to give us a tour. As we walked and drove from site to site, we saw nobody else until the very end. 

The area where some of the paintings were found.

One of the paintings. An animal and its tracks.

The guide told us that people frequently come up to this spot to meditate.

It was surprisingly peaceful and quiet for a place with so much history. 

natural progression.

the trusty land rover.

the maybe not-so-trusty land rover.
(photo by nick)

the dead land rover.

That land rover was a champ. I cannot even tell you how bad some of the roads are in Africa. We spent a hefty amount of time in there bouncing around. 

There was this one time we had car problems--the engine was overheating. So we pulled over to the side of the road, waited for it to cool down, poured water in the radiator, and continued onwards. Rinse and repeat, the entire way there and the entire way home. 

No worries, the last picture was just from a couple weeks ago, long after we had  left Africa. Our friend, Tobias, was in the car along with a friend when it flipped, I believe. Thankfully, he is okay. We had a close call once when Tobias lost control of the car (we hit a sand patch when trying to turn), but nothing happened, other than some fishtailing, sharp inhaling, and under-the-breath exclaiming. From the looks of it, guess we were lucky!

Bon Apetit.

One would think that there's a limit to how much fried chicken and french fries one can eat, especially if both are served at the same time and in exactly the same style every time. I mean, that's a heck of a lot of fried going on for one meal.

There was no limit. At least not when we were staying in Kasama, Zambia--our home base.

We ate at this restaurant--Bon Apetit--every single night we were in Kasama, Zambia.

Dinnertime.

And every single time we went to Bon Apetit, we would order fried chicken and french fries. It was the only safe item on the menu (they also served burgers-but burgers in Africa are kinda questionable).

It was the great for the first couple of times, then not so much. But we would always clean our plates regardless. We only ate two meals a day while we were in Africa, so we were pretty much always starving by the time dinnertime rolled around. So we would sit and we would eat, and we would watch whatever was on the TV--usually the Discovery channel or some older, not-such-a-high-quality English film like Dante's Peak. 

Anyhow, I did figure out halfway through that the owner would replace the french fries with rice if you asked. That's what I did for the rest of the trip, and it is amazing how healthy white rice feels after a couple weeks on a steady diet of french fries.

We were such regulars that the owner would pretty much expect us every night. Honestly, we would tell them if we were going to be gone for the next couple of days on a trip so that they wouldn't expect us. 

At the very end of our trip, right before we got on our bus that would begin the journey back to Tanzania, Sean and I got a picture with the owner of the restaurant. Pretty great. 

ZAMBIA IS A CHRISTIAN NATION

Geoffrey (Zambian ZSF employee) had this tape that he liked to play in the car on long trips. It was a tape of a preacher, screaming out religion.

What stuck out to us Americans the most from that particular sermon: ZAMBIA IS A CHRISTIAN NATION.

It was THE refrain of the trip. We heard it all the time. Not just from the preacher on that infamous tape--from everybody. It's written into their constitution.

A particular bus company that we used several times would always have a preacher come on board before the trip started. They would shout out scriptures and spiritual thoughts in a mixture of both English and Bimba.

There was this one time that one such preacher stood right next to Jeff's seat on the bus. Of course he was shouting, and thus he was spitting.

After a couple minutes, Jeff glared at him. The preacher noticed, and put his Bible next to his face.

The sheer velocity of the spit coming out of that man's mouth was enough for it to rebound off of the Bible and

sadly, spit continued to rain down upon Jeff.

I might not have learned much that day, sitting in that bus seat for an uncomfortable eight hours, but-

Oh yes, Zambia is a Christian nation, and don't you forget it. 

That particular day, it had been shouted into my head and spat onto Jeff's.