One of the beauties of not having a job is that you get to leave home during the late hours of the morning, when the streets are quiet and calm, with only a few old ladies walking their dogs. On June 8th I was enjoying such a quiet morning. It was a beautiful autumn day in Cape Town. A chilly breeze was brushing against my face, but the sun was shining brightly.
I just love this kind of autumn weather, so I had decided to take a slow, long walk up to the station. Engrossed in thoughts, I studied the beautiful golden brown leaves that saturated the streets of Plumstead. The bare naked trees with their arty-looking branches looked sad to be losing more and more of their - I assume - beloved leaves.
Even though the trees told a sad story, the scenery was beautiful. The colors of the lifeless leaves were simply magnificent.
I was on my way to visit a sewing school, to find out if I could do a short course with them. That mission did not go so well, as I was told the classes only take place on Saturday, when I go to church. So I moved on to my next plan for the day, to invigilate an exam at UCT and make a few bucks in the process. This went smoothly, but when I went home after the exam I could not have guessed what I was about to hear.
When I was nearing the house I bumped into my sister, who asked me why my phone had been off. They had all been trying to call me. When she told me the news, I just kept thinking how odd it was that such a peaceful, beautiful day could suddenly end so dramatically. I quickly walked into the house and saw we had unusual guests. What I had just heard was confirmed when my little nephew Collins came running to me, pulled my hand and said to me: “Justine, my daddy is dead.”
It just broke my heart to hear my 6-year-old nephew tell me that. I ran to the room to switch on my phone and call my sister, but I just couldn’t because my eyes were filled with tears and my voice was shaky. How could I call her in that state? While I was trying to pull myself together my mother walked into the room, lamenting how her poor daughter is widowed at such a young age and she would be all alone now. At that moment I knew God would give me strength to be useful.
Later on I gathered the courage to call my sister. All I could say was that I was so sorry, but that I would be coming her way tomorrow with Collins, her son. I didn’t really know how yet, but we spent the rest of the night planning and I prayed to God, asking Him for strength.
In the early hours of the morning I left for Mozambique. Sooner than I could ever have expected, I was back on my journey. A journey that was about to change me once again.
Monday, August 15, 2011
useful
When I got back to Cape Town after my trip, I had become convicted deep down in my heart that I wanted to be a useful person. Not just useful to myself, but to others. I wanted to be helpful, to serve others in whatever God would call me to do.
At first I spent days attempting to study for a UNISA degree, but attempting slowly turned into pretending. I had moved back home so bills were not as pressing as before, and I was just not ready to even think of an office job like the one I came from.
I realised I would need to gain more practical skills and learn to be more useful to myself before I could start being useful to others. Some of the skills that were on my ever-growing list were sewing, natural healing/ herbs, photography, guitar playing, creative writing, crafts, children’s activities, how to homeschool, how to grow healthy locs and of course the most important was bible studying. I wanted to really know how to search the scriptures, how to learn prophecy and how to teach it.
I started looking for courses and started visiting second-hand shops, looking for cheap books that could help me. I spent a lot of time on the net and in the Exclusive Books store, going through books I could not afford to buy. During this time I was pleading with God to help me be a useful individual and not to think of things that concern only me.
In the future I would like to look back at my life and not have the kind of regrets where I wish I had done this or done that. And I want to prepare for wherever God will send me, so that I will be equipped to help myself, my family, friends and others around me.
I believe a time is coming when our worldly achievements will be of no value, because we will not be allowed to work, buy or sell. That is why I want to become an individual who can live anywhere, anytime and still be useful to people around me, not having to look back thinking: if only I had known.
At first I spent days attempting to study for a UNISA degree, but attempting slowly turned into pretending. I had moved back home so bills were not as pressing as before, and I was just not ready to even think of an office job like the one I came from.
I realised I would need to gain more practical skills and learn to be more useful to myself before I could start being useful to others. Some of the skills that were on my ever-growing list were sewing, natural healing/ herbs, photography, guitar playing, creative writing, crafts, children’s activities, how to homeschool, how to grow healthy locs and of course the most important was bible studying. I wanted to really know how to search the scriptures, how to learn prophecy and how to teach it.
I started looking for courses and started visiting second-hand shops, looking for cheap books that could help me. I spent a lot of time on the net and in the Exclusive Books store, going through books I could not afford to buy. During this time I was pleading with God to help me be a useful individual and not to think of things that concern only me.
In the future I would like to look back at my life and not have the kind of regrets where I wish I had done this or done that. And I want to prepare for wherever God will send me, so that I will be equipped to help myself, my family, friends and others around me.
I believe a time is coming when our worldly achievements will be of no value, because we will not be allowed to work, buy or sell. That is why I want to become an individual who can live anywhere, anytime and still be useful to people around me, not having to look back thinking: if only I had known.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Let’s make happiness
"Lord keep me in your way, so that I will not be in your way."
For a long time I used to live my life for tomorrow. I was always planning what I would be up to next month, next year and a few years from now. Looking back, this robbed me of so much happiness that I could have enjoyed on those days, instead of always living for the next. I am not saying we should not plan, but I think we should not get consumed with planning to the point where we miss the blessings of today.
It becomes even more dangerous to us Christians, because focusing on the long term can easily tempt you to leave Christ out of your planning, thinking you are in control of your future, ending up walking in your own way instead of walking in his way.
This was one of the lessons that God taught me throughout my trip.
Before I travelled I was a girl with a plan. I was not a very content person. I would be content and extremely happy for a season, but soon the feeling would wear of and I would begin to plan and hope for better things.
It was a problem in my life that I never worked out, I was constantly planning what to do next. And going on a trip like this was going to be perfect, because I had planned to spend one month in every town. But my stay in Lusaka taught me to take each day as it comes, because even though we make our own plans to suit ourself, God usually has a different plan that he uses to teach us.
As I wrote before, when I first arrived in Lusaka it was not my most favorite place. The quicker we could move to the next destination the better. So i was already counting days till that one month was over and we would be off. I had groaned and moaned to Jorrit about when we would finally leave.
But things went differently. We ended up staying for a long while, and I eventually learned to love the place.
I believe God used that experience to teach me to be content and happy where I am at that moment. It took me a long time to realise it and it was not easy, but praise God that He can change us if we allow Him to. Where I am right now in my life, I do not see how I would be managing without that lesson. I would have been very anxious and unhappy.
But because of that lesson I am an extremely happy girl, no jokes. I find joy in the little things. I find it ridiculous, but at the same time I am loving it.
I am still learning, by Gods help, to enjoy the little happiness of now, that I would otherwise miss, because I would be so busy planning my next move. It brings even more joy when you know that you are where God wants you to be at that time and to enjoy every minute of it and suck in as much happiness as you can, learning all the lessons you must learn for this moment.
I am glad that I discovered this magic formula: contentment equals happiness. Now, as my brother Jacques likes to say: let's make happiness :).
For a long time I used to live my life for tomorrow. I was always planning what I would be up to next month, next year and a few years from now. Looking back, this robbed me of so much happiness that I could have enjoyed on those days, instead of always living for the next. I am not saying we should not plan, but I think we should not get consumed with planning to the point where we miss the blessings of today.
It becomes even more dangerous to us Christians, because focusing on the long term can easily tempt you to leave Christ out of your planning, thinking you are in control of your future, ending up walking in your own way instead of walking in his way.
This was one of the lessons that God taught me throughout my trip.
Before I travelled I was a girl with a plan. I was not a very content person. I would be content and extremely happy for a season, but soon the feeling would wear of and I would begin to plan and hope for better things.
It was a problem in my life that I never worked out, I was constantly planning what to do next. And going on a trip like this was going to be perfect, because I had planned to spend one month in every town. But my stay in Lusaka taught me to take each day as it comes, because even though we make our own plans to suit ourself, God usually has a different plan that he uses to teach us.
As I wrote before, when I first arrived in Lusaka it was not my most favorite place. The quicker we could move to the next destination the better. So i was already counting days till that one month was over and we would be off. I had groaned and moaned to Jorrit about when we would finally leave.
But things went differently. We ended up staying for a long while, and I eventually learned to love the place.
I believe God used that experience to teach me to be content and happy where I am at that moment. It took me a long time to realise it and it was not easy, but praise God that He can change us if we allow Him to. Where I am right now in my life, I do not see how I would be managing without that lesson. I would have been very anxious and unhappy.
But because of that lesson I am an extremely happy girl, no jokes. I find joy in the little things. I find it ridiculous, but at the same time I am loving it.
I am still learning, by Gods help, to enjoy the little happiness of now, that I would otherwise miss, because I would be so busy planning my next move. It brings even more joy when you know that you are where God wants you to be at that time and to enjoy every minute of it and suck in as much happiness as you can, learning all the lessons you must learn for this moment.
I am glad that I discovered this magic formula: contentment equals happiness. Now, as my brother Jacques likes to say: let's make happiness :).
Holiday of bliss and awesomeness
So, I did not really fulfill my promise of writing more blogs about my trip. And now, after such a long time, things are not so clear in my head anymore and it will be hard to be as descriptive as I would have liked. But a promise is a promise, so here goes.
When I arrived in Malawi, visiting my dearest friend Omega was on top of my list. I first met her in Cape Town years ago, when we both worked at The Big Issue magazine. Miggs became like a big sis to me back then. She used to sit right opposite me at the office and over our desks we shared lots of laughter and good times.
Of course I was very excited that I would be seeing her again, and that I would be staying with her and her husband Wakisa for a week. But I was also a bit nervous, because we had not seen each other for so long and not kept in touch so often. Would we still click like we used to?
When I arrived at the bus stop and she came to pick me up, she was so kind to drop off my bus buddy at her friends place. After that act of kindness I knew my Miggs had not changed :). I was still a bit nervous, but right there someone should have warned me and told me not to waste my time being nervous, but to rather let my hair down and look forward to a holiday of bliss and awesomeness.
As we were driving to their home. We couldn’t stop talking. It was as if she had never left and as if we were back to our spots at the office, chatting away until the office would close.
To cut the long story short, staying with them in their beautiful paradise home, being taken around Blantyre in their posh red car, rubbing shoulders with the who’s who in Malawi, eating at fancy, cozy restaurants, being pampered with manicures and all things lovely was overwhelming for me. But Omega kept repeating the same words over and over and soon enough I obeyed. "Put your legs up and enjoy, you’re on holiday, let your big sis spoil you." And sure I was spoiled!
I loved their home, I loved them and their hospitality was mind blowing. I appreciated it so much that, with my nervousness out of the window, I ended up staying for 3 weeks :).
When I arrived in Malawi, visiting my dearest friend Omega was on top of my list. I first met her in Cape Town years ago, when we both worked at The Big Issue magazine. Miggs became like a big sis to me back then. She used to sit right opposite me at the office and over our desks we shared lots of laughter and good times.
Of course I was very excited that I would be seeing her again, and that I would be staying with her and her husband Wakisa for a week. But I was also a bit nervous, because we had not seen each other for so long and not kept in touch so often. Would we still click like we used to?
When I arrived at the bus stop and she came to pick me up, she was so kind to drop off my bus buddy at her friends place. After that act of kindness I knew my Miggs had not changed :). I was still a bit nervous, but right there someone should have warned me and told me not to waste my time being nervous, but to rather let my hair down and look forward to a holiday of bliss and awesomeness.
As we were driving to their home. We couldn’t stop talking. It was as if she had never left and as if we were back to our spots at the office, chatting away until the office would close.
To cut the long story short, staying with them in their beautiful paradise home, being taken around Blantyre in their posh red car, rubbing shoulders with the who’s who in Malawi, eating at fancy, cozy restaurants, being pampered with manicures and all things lovely was overwhelming for me. But Omega kept repeating the same words over and over and soon enough I obeyed. "Put your legs up and enjoy, you’re on holiday, let your big sis spoil you." And sure I was spoiled!
I loved their home, I loved them and their hospitality was mind blowing. I appreciated it so much that, with my nervousness out of the window, I ended up staying for 3 weeks :).
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
On the road to Malawi
Different from what this blog may suggest, I am no longer enjoying my journey. I am back in Cape Town, missing Zambia and Malawi so much that I am already making plans to go back.
Even though I am back home, I still want to write some of the blogs I would have wanted to write. About the rest of my trip, my journey to Malawi, the wonderful people I got to meet. And most of all I want to share how this trip, by God’s grace, made me realise my calling.
When schools closed for December holidays, I had time to do other things. I visited Victoria Falls for the second time, this time with lots more water in it, and went camping for a weekend on the banks of the Kafue river with Floris and Jorrit.
We went fishing, cooked on a fire by the riverside, slept in a tent surrounded by hippo’s, did game drives and made a boat trip. All very nice touristy things, except for the journey back to Lusaka, when we took a bumpy ride in the back of a bakkie and we arrived covered in dust.
By now I was feeling very adventurous , so the next day I proceeded to the next item that had been on my to-do list for so long: visiting Malawi. I packed my life into my backpack and went to the hectic Intercity bus station to buy a ticket. Oops… the bus to Lilongwe would leave at 4 AM the next morning. It would be impossible to get there by public transport that time of the night.
But luckily the bus would already be at the station in the evening, so to avoid having to take an expensive taxi cab in the middle of the night I left my home in Chawama in the afternoon, planning to spend the night on the bus.
As I was waiting by the roadside for a minibus to take me to town, hoping it would still have space for my bags, a very big army bus stopped. The driver asked Bridget what she was doing with an American lady in Chawama… thanks to my huge backpack.
The man offered to give me a lift and I accepted. There were other people on the bus already, so it seemed safe. But after the other passengers got out, he started trying to convince me to marry him. He would get me a shop to sell in, so I would never have to struggle. I should not forget to mention that this man was probably a few years older than my dad, so I could not wait to jump of his bus.
At least he dropped me close to the bus station, and was kind enough to ask some random stranger to help me carry my bag to the bus station. After my experience minutes before, I was waiting for the moment this next guy would also start proposing. But he was not so scary at all. In fact he was so nice, and did not even want to be paid anything for helping me, so he kind of restored my faith in humanity.
I slept on the bus, but of course it did not leave at 4 as planned, but only past 6. Just when I was dozing in my chair, a very loud and made-up lady walked into the bus. The type who just demands attention and makes every head turn every head. She told some guys to please put her bags up, somewhere where she can keep an eye on them, in a very English accent.
The type I would not in normal circumstances be best buddies with. but guess who she chose to sit next to… Woohooo.
I shared my olives, salty crackers, peanuts and raisins with her, and of course she was fascinated by someone who buys olives for a bus trip. She turned out to be a great traveling buddy, who made kept me entertained for the whole trip, and offered me a shoulder to sleep on.
We became very close during the trip, almost as if we had jumped on this bus together, and she shared every detail of her long and complicated love-stories with me.
Crossing the border was a breeze with her around. She first did her make up and couldn’t understand how I live my life without any. And as soon as we stepped out, all the border guys could worry about was when we would be passing by again.
And the trip was not the last I saw of my dear new found friend. I met her again a few days later when she showed me around Lilongwe and we even travelled to Blantyre together after our week stay in Lilongwe.
Her bubbly, energetic personality made her very likable and her dolled-up face and fancy sense of style made her very appealing to many, but me and her were very different. We thought differently, and I could only keep up with her talk about her hot boyfriend and her next outfit for so long…
But she was lovely to travel with, and as my first impression of Malawi, she was the first to make me realise what the next weeks would prove over and over again: Malawians are the friendliest guys in Africa. :)
Even though I am back home, I still want to write some of the blogs I would have wanted to write. About the rest of my trip, my journey to Malawi, the wonderful people I got to meet. And most of all I want to share how this trip, by God’s grace, made me realise my calling.
When schools closed for December holidays, I had time to do other things. I visited Victoria Falls for the second time, this time with lots more water in it, and went camping for a weekend on the banks of the Kafue river with Floris and Jorrit.
We went fishing, cooked on a fire by the riverside, slept in a tent surrounded by hippo’s, did game drives and made a boat trip. All very nice touristy things, except for the journey back to Lusaka, when we took a bumpy ride in the back of a bakkie and we arrived covered in dust.
By now I was feeling very adventurous , so the next day I proceeded to the next item that had been on my to-do list for so long: visiting Malawi. I packed my life into my backpack and went to the hectic Intercity bus station to buy a ticket. Oops… the bus to Lilongwe would leave at 4 AM the next morning. It would be impossible to get there by public transport that time of the night.
But luckily the bus would already be at the station in the evening, so to avoid having to take an expensive taxi cab in the middle of the night I left my home in Chawama in the afternoon, planning to spend the night on the bus.
As I was waiting by the roadside for a minibus to take me to town, hoping it would still have space for my bags, a very big army bus stopped. The driver asked Bridget what she was doing with an American lady in Chawama… thanks to my huge backpack.
The man offered to give me a lift and I accepted. There were other people on the bus already, so it seemed safe. But after the other passengers got out, he started trying to convince me to marry him. He would get me a shop to sell in, so I would never have to struggle. I should not forget to mention that this man was probably a few years older than my dad, so I could not wait to jump of his bus.
At least he dropped me close to the bus station, and was kind enough to ask some random stranger to help me carry my bag to the bus station. After my experience minutes before, I was waiting for the moment this next guy would also start proposing. But he was not so scary at all. In fact he was so nice, and did not even want to be paid anything for helping me, so he kind of restored my faith in humanity.
I slept on the bus, but of course it did not leave at 4 as planned, but only past 6. Just when I was dozing in my chair, a very loud and made-up lady walked into the bus. The type who just demands attention and makes every head turn every head. She told some guys to please put her bags up, somewhere where she can keep an eye on them, in a very English accent.
The type I would not in normal circumstances be best buddies with. but guess who she chose to sit next to… Woohooo.
I shared my olives, salty crackers, peanuts and raisins with her, and of course she was fascinated by someone who buys olives for a bus trip. She turned out to be a great traveling buddy, who made kept me entertained for the whole trip, and offered me a shoulder to sleep on.
We became very close during the trip, almost as if we had jumped on this bus together, and she shared every detail of her long and complicated love-stories with me.
Crossing the border was a breeze with her around. She first did her make up and couldn’t understand how I live my life without any. And as soon as we stepped out, all the border guys could worry about was when we would be passing by again.
And the trip was not the last I saw of my dear new found friend. I met her again a few days later when she showed me around Lilongwe and we even travelled to Blantyre together after our week stay in Lilongwe.
Her bubbly, energetic personality made her very likable and her dolled-up face and fancy sense of style made her very appealing to many, but me and her were very different. We thought differently, and I could only keep up with her talk about her hot boyfriend and her next outfit for so long…
But she was lovely to travel with, and as my first impression of Malawi, she was the first to make me realise what the next weeks would prove over and over again: Malawians are the friendliest guys in Africa. :)
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Learning to love dislikable Lusaka
Almost every backpacker I meet on my travels seems to strongly dislike Zambia's not so charming capital, and found it to be nothing more than a unavoidable stopover on their way to more welcoming destinations. Having lived there for a while, I got to see the other side of this unattractive city.
Walking around Kulima Tower, one of Lusaka's most crowded and chaotic bus stations, you do not actually feel that Zambia is one of the most thinly populated countries in Africa, with only 15 people per square kilometre.
The scene that greets you is crowded, noisy and intense. Lusaka's dusty, crusty roads are filled with swarms of blue minibuses, taxi's and other cars, continuously hooting their way through the never-ending congestion. They push themselves into intersections and roundabouts, seemingly without caring for a dent more or less, and with no respect for the faded zebra crossings.
The pavements are the territory of hundreds of street vendors, selling ear buds, pegs, fried meat, lollies, shower caps, strange looking orange mushrooms, trousers, Ray Ban sunglasses, much needed frozen water and a whole lot of other random things.
All this made my first experience in Lusaka rather overwhelming. I was not sure how I would ever get used to this city and find my way around all its busy corners.
But as I had been told before by people who got to spend more time there, Lusaka has a way of growing on you, and lo and behold, not long after getting there, I had fallen prey to that and Lusaka had worked its way to my heart.
Chawama, the compound where I lived, was no less crowded and chaotic than the city centre, even though it is situated on the outskirts of town and has more of an informal settlement feel. I stayed in a one bedroom house with no electricity or water (see my pre-previous blog) with a lovely family.
There is Bridget, who became my dearest friend and sister, her 1 year old son Nixon, and from time to time her husband, my big brother, who is a truck driver assistant and would sometimes come home for a few days in between his trips to Zimbabwe, Botswana, Malawi and Congo.
My day mostly started at 6:00, with baby Nixon throwing himself at me, wanting to play, or crying to go outside to find his mum, who would already be sweeping the yard. I would wake up, take Nixon outside, then get back and start with my morning reading. After that I would wake up, get charcoal and start a fire on the brazier to boil water for bathing and making morning tea.
Meanwhile I would sweep the house, make the room and go outside to say 'mwauka bwanji' (good morning) to our neighbour who everybody refers to as Ma Chileshe (Chileshe's mum). She is the comedian of the neighbourhood and also became a dear friend to me, who could already make me smile before she even said a word. Still wearing her night wrap on her head, she would already be sharing stories as she washed her dishes, asking if anybody else also heard the thunder striking at 03:00, or what time the neighbourhood prostitute next door came home last night.
By that time my water would be ready and I would take a quick bath in a big basin in the bedroom, as we did not have a bathroom, and I would be off to the community school where I worked. The constant demand for attention and the noise of so many excited children cramped into a small room could be quite exhausting, but I loved spending time with my more than sixty kids, who were so heart-warming despite their visibly tough circumstances.
After roaming around town I would enjoy the long evenings of sitting outside with the other ladies from the neighbourhood. As we prepared food on the charcoal braziers, we would share stories, dream about the houses we hoped to own one day, and advise each other on life's hardships, like alcoholic and cheating husbands, and other issues that were dear to our hearts.
Going through my days like this, I slowly discovered that behind the overwhelming first impression of this city, there was a lot to appreciate. Even though the food was nshima (maize porridge) every day, the endless variety of vegetables that we ate it with brought happiness to my vegetarian heart. Pumpkin leaves, sweet potato leaves, rape, bondwe, okra, impwa and lumanda to just name a few, often made into a delicious relish, mixed with pounded peanut flour.
No matter how dislikable Lusaka had seemed at first sight, it eventually became home to me. Even at the crowded bus station I learned to find my way. The conductors, who can be quite rough and intimidating, now know me, and walk me to the Chawama buses with a smile. You gotta love it :)
Walking around Kulima Tower, one of Lusaka's most crowded and chaotic bus stations, you do not actually feel that Zambia is one of the most thinly populated countries in Africa, with only 15 people per square kilometre.
The scene that greets you is crowded, noisy and intense. Lusaka's dusty, crusty roads are filled with swarms of blue minibuses, taxi's and other cars, continuously hooting their way through the never-ending congestion. They push themselves into intersections and roundabouts, seemingly without caring for a dent more or less, and with no respect for the faded zebra crossings.
The pavements are the territory of hundreds of street vendors, selling ear buds, pegs, fried meat, lollies, shower caps, strange looking orange mushrooms, trousers, Ray Ban sunglasses, much needed frozen water and a whole lot of other random things.
All this made my first experience in Lusaka rather overwhelming. I was not sure how I would ever get used to this city and find my way around all its busy corners.
But as I had been told before by people who got to spend more time there, Lusaka has a way of growing on you, and lo and behold, not long after getting there, I had fallen prey to that and Lusaka had worked its way to my heart.
Chawama, the compound where I lived, was no less crowded and chaotic than the city centre, even though it is situated on the outskirts of town and has more of an informal settlement feel. I stayed in a one bedroom house with no electricity or water (see my pre-previous blog) with a lovely family.
There is Bridget, who became my dearest friend and sister, her 1 year old son Nixon, and from time to time her husband, my big brother, who is a truck driver assistant and would sometimes come home for a few days in between his trips to Zimbabwe, Botswana, Malawi and Congo.
My day mostly started at 6:00, with baby Nixon throwing himself at me, wanting to play, or crying to go outside to find his mum, who would already be sweeping the yard. I would wake up, take Nixon outside, then get back and start with my morning reading. After that I would wake up, get charcoal and start a fire on the brazier to boil water for bathing and making morning tea.
Meanwhile I would sweep the house, make the room and go outside to say 'mwauka bwanji' (good morning) to our neighbour who everybody refers to as Ma Chileshe (Chileshe's mum). She is the comedian of the neighbourhood and also became a dear friend to me, who could already make me smile before she even said a word. Still wearing her night wrap on her head, she would already be sharing stories as she washed her dishes, asking if anybody else also heard the thunder striking at 03:00, or what time the neighbourhood prostitute next door came home last night.
By that time my water would be ready and I would take a quick bath in a big basin in the bedroom, as we did not have a bathroom, and I would be off to the community school where I worked. The constant demand for attention and the noise of so many excited children cramped into a small room could be quite exhausting, but I loved spending time with my more than sixty kids, who were so heart-warming despite their visibly tough circumstances.
After roaming around town I would enjoy the long evenings of sitting outside with the other ladies from the neighbourhood. As we prepared food on the charcoal braziers, we would share stories, dream about the houses we hoped to own one day, and advise each other on life's hardships, like alcoholic and cheating husbands, and other issues that were dear to our hearts.
Going through my days like this, I slowly discovered that behind the overwhelming first impression of this city, there was a lot to appreciate. Even though the food was nshima (maize porridge) every day, the endless variety of vegetables that we ate it with brought happiness to my vegetarian heart. Pumpkin leaves, sweet potato leaves, rape, bondwe, okra, impwa and lumanda to just name a few, often made into a delicious relish, mixed with pounded peanut flour.
No matter how dislikable Lusaka had seemed at first sight, it eventually became home to me. Even at the crowded bus station I learned to find my way. The conductors, who can be quite rough and intimidating, now know me, and walk me to the Chawama buses with a smile. You gotta love it :)
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
My first day at work
(My first day at work was 3 weeks ago so this is rather delayed)
When I first entered the class room I was worried whether I could even make my voice heard, about the many chattering kids voices. But as soon as I opened my mouth to greet them, they all jumped up and and welcomed me with a loud and hearty " good morning teacher!" " How are you teacher?" " Fine thank you teacher!"
Bwafwano community school is located in Chawama compound, one of the poorest surburbs around Lusaka. The school is a 1 classroom bulding in the middle of a open dusty field, surrounded by crowded markets where flies swarm around dried fish, mangos and the dried caterpillars that are a loved local snack.
The classroom is filled with broken desks and benches. far too few for the over 60 pupils that were there when we arrived. Some are seated on the floor, or on top of the broken desks. Others pile up on the few benches, while others just stand in the back.
We had initially thought we would be working with about 15 children, but the crowd that greeted us was far bigger. Children in community schools like Bwafwano hardly have any teachers and far too little activities, so most of them are usually desperate for any form of knowledge anyone is willing to impart, especially if they are muzungu's (My Dutch workmates).
They were so eager and listened attentively as I introduced our project. They kept on nodding yes madam to everything I said. We gave them a first drawing exercise, for which we had to provide them with materials because they hardly have anything. As we were handing out papers and pencils, we quickly realised it would not work out, as we had not counted on so many children. So we had to be creative and break the pencils in half. Even then we could not supply everybody, as new ones kept on coming in, so more were left waiting for others to finish. It was very difficult to watch them as they struggled to draw, on their laps and on the floor. It was heart warming how they were so disciplined and willing, but it was just very hard for them to do a proper drawing on their lap.
Working with these children, who just kept calling for me every opportunity they got, " teacher! teacher!" and the eagerness in their eyes, left me so humbled and yet so satisfied. I enjoyed it so much and it confirmed why I had wanted to do this project in the first place: I love working with kids.
Seeing how they struggle with the little means they have makes me want to help them in any way I can. Even after just one day of working there I already felt I would love to work there longer so I could really make a difference. This experience makes me wish I had the funds and resources to improve and transform this place into the proper school that every child deserves.
When I first entered the class room I was worried whether I could even make my voice heard, about the many chattering kids voices. But as soon as I opened my mouth to greet them, they all jumped up and and welcomed me with a loud and hearty " good morning teacher!" " How are you teacher?" " Fine thank you teacher!"
Bwafwano community school is located in Chawama compound, one of the poorest surburbs around Lusaka. The school is a 1 classroom bulding in the middle of a open dusty field, surrounded by crowded markets where flies swarm around dried fish, mangos and the dried caterpillars that are a loved local snack.
The classroom is filled with broken desks and benches. far too few for the over 60 pupils that were there when we arrived. Some are seated on the floor, or on top of the broken desks. Others pile up on the few benches, while others just stand in the back.
We had initially thought we would be working with about 15 children, but the crowd that greeted us was far bigger. Children in community schools like Bwafwano hardly have any teachers and far too little activities, so most of them are usually desperate for any form of knowledge anyone is willing to impart, especially if they are muzungu's (My Dutch workmates).
They were so eager and listened attentively as I introduced our project. They kept on nodding yes madam to everything I said. We gave them a first drawing exercise, for which we had to provide them with materials because they hardly have anything. As we were handing out papers and pencils, we quickly realised it would not work out, as we had not counted on so many children. So we had to be creative and break the pencils in half. Even then we could not supply everybody, as new ones kept on coming in, so more were left waiting for others to finish. It was very difficult to watch them as they struggled to draw, on their laps and on the floor. It was heart warming how they were so disciplined and willing, but it was just very hard for them to do a proper drawing on their lap.
Working with these children, who just kept calling for me every opportunity they got, " teacher! teacher!" and the eagerness in their eyes, left me so humbled and yet so satisfied. I enjoyed it so much and it confirmed why I had wanted to do this project in the first place: I love working with kids.
Seeing how they struggle with the little means they have makes me want to help them in any way I can. Even after just one day of working there I already felt I would love to work there longer so I could really make a difference. This experience makes me wish I had the funds and resources to improve and transform this place into the proper school that every child deserves.
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