Today we ventured into downtown Lusaka for the first time. We rode in on a minibus crammed full of 20 people to the center of the city. Kb, a teenager who just moved to Botswana with her family, and I were accompanied by Christine, a Zambian national believer who lives here in Lusaka.
It is amazing the number of street children here. Some are orphans, but many are runaways. What kind of future do they have? They will have no education, and many are already addicted to the cheap drugs that are all too available, even by the time they’re 6 or 8 years old. What chance do they have?
Zambians have a huge sense of honor and pride. School fees are very expensive, and though most parents, value their children’s education, they don’t usually have the money right at hand. So they will borrow the money from people they know so their kids can go to school on time. I asked Christine what would happen if they couldn’t pay back the loan, and it was completely unheard of. Her response was, they gave their word to pay it back. It might take time, but a promise is a promise. They might have to work eighteen hours a day, but they will pay their debt.
I think, in our culture of handouts and government assistance, we have lost the honor of keeping our commitments and providing for ourselves. So often, we expect to be taken care of, rather than taking the initiative to do what needs to be done.
I really have no frame of reference for Lusaka. I think, if I knew Kampala better, I would probably see a lot of similarities. As it is, all I k now is that it’s nothing like Arua. Lusaka City Market is like the Arua market on both steroids and speed. Fresh fish next to watches next to fabric next to beans next to used shoes next to dried caterpillars (a favorite snack). And if you keep walking, you’ll come to the cages of live chickens and the sides of beef.
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