Things I’ve Learned at 40/40

• Fitted sheets are a luxury.
• “Nshima” is the Chinyanja word for “intestinal cork.”
• Even if you stop drinking water at 7 pm, you’ll still have to pee in the middle of the night.
• NEVER look down the pit latrine.
• I am capable of much more than I thought, as long as I don’t try to do it in my own strength.
• It’s possible to cook excellent meals over wood fires.
• There is no reason for anyone to chop wood at 4:30 in the morning.
• It gets really cold in Africa.
• A 45-minute walk to the village to talk to people is definitely worth it.
• A good shower uses 5 gallons of water.
• It takes 58 hand pumps at the well to draw 5 gallons of water.
• By the time you walk back to your tent from your shower, your feet will be dirty again.
• A 70-year old woman with arthritis can shell an ear of maize in ¼ the time it takes me.
• The things I am most afraid of are never really as bad as I expect.
• Headlamps are a brilliant invention.
• MKs aren’t afraid to eat meat cooked on a shovel.
• A bouncy ball provides hours of entertainment.
• There’s no better sound than a bunch of African kids singing at the top of their lungs.
• An old woman can stand up in church and start singing with the choir- and no one will bat an eye.
• Whatever you chase out of the latrine at night is definitely more scared of you.
• At night, you can see the Southern Cross, the Pointer Stars, satellites, shooting stars galore, and the Milky Way… and you understand what God meant about Abraham’s children outnumbering the stars.
• It really is easier to carry things on your head.
• Rural Africans are some of the kindest people on the planet.
• It’s possible to make peanut butter by hand… assuming your muscles don’t give out.
• African women do things American women would never dream of doing.
• If you take Ambien and use earplugs, you won’t know- or care- that roaches are climbing all over your mosquito net.
• I will never take a shower or a flush toilet for granted again.

40/40 Day 30- The Easy Life

I guess our leadership figures that it’s hard enough living in the African bush for more than two weeks, because when we left Petauke, we moved from rural Africa to central Florida. I say we earned it!

Ibis Gardens is a resort about an hour from Lusaka. In the three days that we’ve been here, I’ve walked on grass for the first time since I’ve been in Africa. I’ve had carpet in my bedroom, which I have all to myself, and a big bed. (Okay, so it’s a ¾ size, but that’s still bigger than I’m used to!) I’ve had nice, hot showers in the mornings, sat by the pool in the afternoons, and had 3 full meals (and then some) every day—with no nshima on my plate! Life has been good.

I was leaving my room (complete with the luxury of a flush toilet) to walk to the breakfast I didn’t have to make this morning, and it dawned on me: it doesn’t matter how long I stay in Africa, whether it’s 2 years or twenty. I don’t have to stay. And when it comes time for me to leave, I get to go back to America and the easy life that is so taken for granted.

For the most part, the people I’m working with, whether they live in Petauke, Lusaka, Nairobi, Kampala, or Arua, don’t get to leave. Their bush camp doesn’t just last for 2 weeks. They don’t just spend 3 days in their mud hut and then move on. This life, for them, doesn’t end.

I can truly say that I respect Africans more than I ever expected to, because the primitive life I’ve experienced in the past few weeks isn’t just an experience for them. It’s day-in and day-out, non-stop life.

In the past few weeks, I’ve found that I am much stronger than I realized. But the Africans are even stronger. I can always go home… and someday, I will. But for them, they already are home.

40/40 Day 29- Daring Dependence

I am 31 years old (at least for 2½ more weeks!) and single. I have held a job for over half my life. I have lived on my own, by myself, for 7 years (until last year, at least). I have always been strong-willed and independent. And I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing.

But because I am independent by nature, it is very difficult for me to step back and let others do. It is difficult for me to allow myself to be needy. I’m so used to being the capable, confident one that when I’m not, it sort of shakes my identity. So for me to spend more than two weeks living in very primitive conditions, being so far away from where I’m comfortable and confident was tough. Wait, “tough” is an understatement. It was downright impossible.

But what I found during my time in the “wilderness” is that I needed to be uncomfortable. I needed to question myself. I needed to be forced to do things I knew I couldn’t. I needed to be pushed into tasks and situations where I was incapable, because in my inability, I saw just how big and faithful God is. Over the past 15 days, I have had to depend on God in ways I never had before, because I knew that I couldn’t make it on my own. I knew that, in my own strength, I was not strong enough. And I found amazing strength and freedom in being able to depend on God. I saw that I didn’t have to fear the next step in front of me or wonder how I would be able to do it; I could trust God for the grace and the ability to do whatever it was.

And I found that, when I dared to depend on Him, and not myself, I didn’t have to stress or worry. I knew that He would get me through it, whether it was sleeping with roaches, eating lots of nshima, or using the squatty potty over and over and over. And that is a great place to live.

“…Apart from Me, you can do nothing.”  (John 15:5)

40/40 Day 27- Hope for Africa

AIDS has decimated Africa. Everyone has been touched by the epidemic in some way, and some people’s lives have been drastically changed. Some grandparents and great-grandparents who should be resting and enjoying the last few years of their lives are now raising a second or third generation of children. Mothers are trying to find ways to support their families on their own. Children have to grow up and become responsible for themselves, and possibly younger brothers and sisters, long before they should.

I spent the last 3 days living with Greyson and Rachel Mwanza, a Zambian couple. They have been married for 24 years and have 6 children; the oldest is 22, and the youngest is 6. The children are all well and healthy, and doing well in school. Greyson serves as a deacon at their local church. He and Rachel farm a few acres about a 30-minute walk away from their homestead; they grow sweet potatoes, groundnuts, sunflowers, tomatoes, and maize, among other things. Rachel may very well be the hardest-working woman in Africa; I don’t think she stopped moving during our entire stay at their home.

It didn’t dawn on me until after we left this morning that there is a reason the Mwanza family is so healthy and intact. Even though they were very stoic and disciplined their children sometimes harshly, you can watch them and tell how much Greyson and Rachel love their children. You can tell this is a couple who are devoted to one another. Their faith is deep and genuine. They are close to their children, even the ones who are grown.

I’m sure Greyson and Rachel have been affected by AIDS in some way. I’m sure they know people who have been infected, and are concerned for their children in the future. But the Mwanza family does not carry the scars of AIDS that most families in Africa do.

In the face of the AIDS crisis, the hope for Africa is Jesus. Greyson and Rachel are proof that faithful marriages can work in Africa. That if people hear and believe the Gospel and experience the life-change it can bring, entire families can be saved. Even in the middle of hunger, pain, illness and death, there is hope for Africa. There is hope for Asia, and Europe, and even America. The only hope for any of us is Jesus.

40/40 Day 26- Stars

When we were at bush camp, I was amazed by how well we could see the stars I’ve never been so far way from light pollution and civilization. There were honestly too many stars to count. For the first time in my life, it made sense to me about God telling Abraham that his descendants would outnumber the stars.

But once we came out to the village, it seems like the stars have multiplied again. It’s unbelievable just what you can see out here. You can watch satellites moving across the sky, and you can actually see the whole Milky Way stretching from one side of the sky to the other.

Shanna, Emily, and I did some stargazing after our bedtime trip to the squatty potty. (We go together for moral support!) Emily reminded me that the Milky Way is actually millions of stars that are so far away that they just look like a band of fog. And there, in the middle of it, is the Southern Cross. (How like the Father to design the entire Universe around the Cross!) But what is even more amazing is that my God not only made all these stars, just by speaking. He placed each one in its specific place and gave it a name. He knows them all.

Not only does He know all the stars, He knows each one of the people He has created. He knows the very number of hairs on our heads. (And, if you shed like I do, that number is constantly changing!) He has a place and a purpose for each of us, and He has given us each a name of our very own. It’s days like today that I am blown away by how big He is. God is so big, so powerful… and yet, He knows me. He loves me. The Maker of the stars loves me. That just might be the most amazing thing of all.

“To whom will you compare Me? Or who is My equal?” says the Holy One. Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing.   (Isaiah 40:25-26)

40/40 Day 26- New Names

Through the past couple of days during our homestay, I noticed some odd looks whenever I introduced myself. Yesterday, I found out why. Greyson told me that “Alissa” (pronounced ah-LEE-sah in African English) is a male name in Zambia—everyone was wondering why I had a man’s name!

As I was talking to a group of kids, one girl said her name was Ruth, and I told her that it was my name, too. Rachel, Greyson’s wife, understood the whole mzungu-multiple name thing, and decided that I should go by “Ruthie” for the rest of my stay in Petauke. My grandmother must be so proud!

Tonight all the Journey girls from the next house came over with some of the boys who live on the homestead where they stayed. We sat in the visiting hut and listened to one of the boys tell stories that were absolutely hilarious. We had such a good time! When the stories were finished, the boys decided to ask us riddles. Each person who answered a riddle would receive a new Chinyanja name. It was so much fun to watch these 8 teenage boys deliberate over what each of our new names should be. They decided I should be called Cikondi (chee-KOHN-dee) which means Love.

If anyone has ideas for what my 4th identity should be, just let me know!

40/40 Day 26- Village Life

It’s Day 3 of my homestay in Petauke, Zambia. I am sitting between 3 mud huts, just thinking about what a precious gift I have been given.

How many people have the chance to not only go into an African village and see what it’s like, but to really live there for 3 days? To experience sleeping in a mud hut? To work in the field harvesting groundnuts and beating out sunflower seeds? To draw water from a crank bucket well and carry it home on your head? To sit and eat and talk and just share life with an African family?

I can’t say that I have enjoyed every moment of my homestay. It has been difficult. It has been dirty. I have eaten more than I thought humanly possible—and of things that I really don’t like. There have been moments when I wanted to run away back to “civilized” life. I am definitely ready to go home.

But I have surely been blessed by my days in the village. May I never forget what I have learned in Greyson and Rachel’s home.

40/40 Day 24- Happy Place

According to Kevin Rodgers, I am in my “happy place.” I’m lying on a foam mattress on the floor of a mud hut in Zambia. I’m draped in mosquito netting, which will hopefully keep away any creatures. My headlamp is hanging from the top of my net, in hopes that the light will also drive away any rodents.

I’ve eaten a butter sandwich, two plates of nshima with beef and greens, and a huge bowl of rice. I shelled beans and maize, and pounded groundnuts with women from the village. I played catch and soccer and sand at the top of my lungs with neighborhood kids. I’ve taken more pictures than I can count.

I’m here for two more days. Sometimes I think, “What the heck am I doing here?” Other times I think, “Why on earth would I ever want to leave?”

40/40 Day 22- Violet

“…My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.
-2 Corinthians 12:9

I almost didn’t go out today. After breakfast I wasn’t feeling well at all, and the thought of walking 45 minutes out to a village, only to get stuck with “tummy bad luck,” as my sister calls it, was not at all appealing. But our DFA today was to share our testimonies, and I knew that Satan didn’t want me to go. So I sucked it up… and said I might turn back if I didn’t start feeling better.

I shared with the first woman we met. She was a Jehovah’s Witness, and seemed really confused about who Jesus was and how someone could be saved. At the next home, we met with a young girl who didn’t understand that going to church didn’t mean she was born again. We spoke with her for a while, but she just didn’t “get” it.
Pray that the Spirit continues to speak to both of these women’s hearts and draw them to Himself.

At the last home, we met Violet. She is a young mother with 3 children, one of whom was terrified of the mzungus. We sat on the ground shelling groundnuts with Violet, just getting to know her. The more we talked with her, the more clear it became that she didn’t know Jesus. But I had absolutely no idea how to turn the conversation. Before long, our attention was drawn to the young girl who stays with Violet and her husband. We discovered that she was a niece who was orphaned when she was 4 years old, and has been living with them for almost ten years. I saw God opening a door, and asked Violet if she was afraid of death; she said of course she was. I began to share the Gospel with her, explaining that she didn’t need to fear life or death, but that Jesus could meet all her needs, both in life and in death. When I finished the Story, she said wanted to ask for salvation, but didn’t know how to pray. I was able to lead Violet in the prayer of salvation, and Victoria, our helper, is connecting her with local women to help her grow in her new faith.

God is so good. As we returned to camp from the village, I was reminded that I almost didn’t go out today. I was physically at the lowest point I’ve been since we came to bush camp. But God wanted me to walk in obedience. Today wasn’t the first time I’ve shared the Gospel. And it definitely wasn’t the best presentation I’ve made. Yet God made it abundantly clear, again, that it’s not about what I do or what I say. I could make a terrible mess of the whole thing, and God still do an amazing work in someone’s life. He can draw hearts to Himself, no matter what I say. And He does. It’s just one more way He is so amazing, one more reason why I love Him so much. He doesn’t need me, but He chooses to use me.

And to think I actually wanted to go back to bed!!!

40/40 Day 21- Village People

We’ve been in the villages around Petauke for two days now. I am astounded at the people who live there. They have been far more willing to sit and just talk with us. I’ve sat on grass mats, opened groundnuts, and shelled maize. I’ve talked to a father with malaria, a great-grandmother raising 5 children, and a village headman. One young woman had married and had her first child by the time she was 12. Most of the people I’ve spoken with have not had a good harvest and aren’t sure how they will feed their families for the year. And yet they have opened their homes. They have offered food they didn’t have. They have sent me home with groundnuts. They have loved me, just because I came to visit. I love village people.

40/40 Day 18- Rainy Day Drive

As we were preparing to come to 40/40, our leaders told us the weather would be comfortable- 70s and 80s- and dry. “It never rains in Zambia in May,” they promised.

It has rained every day since we came to bush camp. Usually, the showers haven’t lasted more than a few minutes, just long enough to cool off a hot day. But today, as we were sitting in the back of the flatbed truck waiting for the last group to arrive from their DFA, it started raining. Hard.

I don’t know if you’ve ever ridden in the back of a truck going 40 miles an hour in the driving rain, but if you haven’t, I wouldn’t recommend it.

Flatbed truck to drive you 6 km to Petauke                 $16
Fritters for 3 from the market                                     $ 0.17
Airtime to call home on Mother’s Day                          $ 2
Getting stung in the face by raindrops with 60
             of your closest friends                                      Priceless

40/40 Day 18- Witch Doctor

Maria

Most days while we are in Zambia for 40/40, we have a “Daily Field Assignment,” or DFA.  The purpose of DFAs is for us to observe African life and to learn how to learn the culture of wherever it is that we’re living and serving—because Zambia is very different from Uganda, which is different from Kenya, which is different from Botswana.  Each DFA has a different focus, whether it is community needs, family life, attending a typical church service, or investigating the available health care.  Because traditional healers and ancestor and spirit worship are such a key part of African life, our DFA for today was to investigate traditional medicine—namely, witch doctors. 

The witch doctor we met with was named Maria.  Her sisters and other women in her family were witch doctors before her.  When she was 25, she began to have dreams in which ancestors would come to her and show her which herbs she should use to heal certain diseases.  She can also use herbs and the spirits’ help to heal someone who has been bewitched, or to bring revenge on someone.

When our helpers first introduced us to Maria, they told her we were missionaries from America who had come to Zambia to learn about African culture.  (There were about 15 mzungus, plus our 7 or 8 Zambian helpers; by the end of our time with Maria, we had drawn a crowd of 50 or more locals!)  Because she knew we were Christian missionaries, it seemed like she was trying to tell us what she thought we wanted to hear.  She said she prayed over the herbs in the name of Jesus, and that He was the Son of God.  But she also said that her power and knowledge came from the spirits.  (Even the demons believe… and shudder!”  James 2:19)

From the beginning of our time with Maria, my spirit felt uneasy.  There was a strange look to her eyes.  And I felt like she weighed her words very carefully.  Before we left camp, we had been reminded that the person we were meeting with was  not our enemy, but a lost person who Jesus loves and died for, and who is being used and deceived by the father of lies…  “for our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but… against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”  (Ephesians 6:12)

The bottom line is that those “spirits” that guide Maria are demons.  She is controlled by them, even in her sleep.  And Satan is using Maria to deceive people around her, to steal them away, to kill them, to destroy them.  I don’t know what to make of the crowd we drew.  The nationals paid no attention to the 15 mzungus, but hung on Maria’s every word.  She has power and influence in this community, and Satan is definitely using it to his advantage.  But we know that “the One who is in [us] is greater than the one who is in the world.”  (1 John 4:4)  Pray that Maria and the people around her would come to see that true healing, both physical and spiritual, comes only in the redeeming power of the blood of Jesus Christ, the perfect atoning sacrifice for our sins.

40/40 Day 17- Visiting Jane

Jane

Eighty thousand people live in the town of Petauke.  At least seven thousand of them have HIV/AIDS. 

Today our helper, Victoria, took Kelli and me around a neighborhood in Petauke.  We went to a home with the most beautiful yard I’ve seen in Africa.  There was a big shade tree surrounded by beautiful emerald-green grass, huge flowering bushes everywhere, and thriving potted plants taking up every inch of available space.  The house itself was completely typical: mud brick and concrete, peeling paint, crowded with too-big furniture, but you could tell that the owner took pride in her home and wanted it to be as nice as possible.

Within a few moments, we met Jane, the owner/gardener.  As we sat with Jane, I was able to piece together her story.  Her only daughter is 19 years old and recently finished high school.  She is a very active member in her local church.  Her husband died in 2002, after being ill for 6 months.  He was HIV+, and she and her daughter have since both tested positive as well.  They have both been healthy for the past six years, but you can tell that Jane is embarrassed by her status; she won’t say in so many words that she has HIV, but will only talk about being tested and registering for assistance.  She says that right now she’s “just okay.”

Jane’s husband had bought and paid for their home before he died, so she and her daughter have somewhere to live, but jobs are scarce in Petauke.  She rents a small booth in the market to a merchant for a meager monthly income, but her days are empty.  When I asked Jane what needs she saw in Petauke, she most wanted a support group for widows with HIV—to encourage them, to give them skills so they can support themselves and their families.  We prayed together, and my heart just broke for Jane… and the many women like her.

As we left, I again complimented the garden that Jane obviously loves and cares for so much.  As I spoke, she began to beam, and I got a glimpse of the beautiful woman she once was, before life became so hard.

A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows is God in His holy dwelling.  (Psalm 68:5)

40/40 Day 15- Circle of Life

(At the risk of referencing The Lion King yet again—but I do live in Africa—and it’s so true!!!) 

Ebby, our African cultural guru, made the statement yesterday, and it’s stayed with me ever since.  Life in Africa happens in a circle.  Houses are circular.  Villages are circular… usually with water at the center.  Townships are circular, government in the middle, surrounded by shops and markets, with farms branching out around the edges.  Meetings are always conducted with people sitting in a circle.  Even relationships in Africa are circular.  Everyone in the community works together, raising children, sharing resources, looking out for those in need.  There is very little private property; even children belong to the entire family, not just the parents.  Everyone and everything is connected.

In the circular community that is Africa, it is easy to see the shortcomings of our linear, American society.  We see everything within its boundaries.  I have my house with my yard surrounded by my fence.  And my property ends where my neighbor’s begins; there is no overlap.  My children are my responsibility, and I dare anyone to discipline them without my express permission.  At the end of the day, my family goes inside my home, where I enjoy my possessions… which no one else better touch.

Don’t get me wrong—America is blessed, and it is home for me.  But I’m starting to see that with our linear, boundary-driven mindset, we miss out on the community that is such a blessing in Africa.  I don’t know how to change this… I just know that I need more circles in my life.

40/40 Day 14- Getting Clean

Pumping water

Heating water

Bucket shower

Bucket shower

After taking my first shower at bush camp, I realize that I’ve taken for granted how easy it is to get clean.  Even in Arua, all I have to do is go to my bathtub, or sink, or even the spigot outside, and turn on the faucet.  I squirt a bit of my moisturizing body wash or a pump of my scented antibacterial hand soap and lather up.  I wash away, usually with hot water, and then dry off with a soft, fluffy towel.  Life is good.

“Difficult” is an understatement here.  When I want to take a shower, the first step is to go to the borehole pump to get the water.  Even in this, we are blessed here, because the pump is only a hundred yards or so from my tent and even less than that from the shower.  Most people in Africa have to walk a quarter mile or more, just to get their water… and then haul it home by hand… or on top of their head!

The water from the borehole is pretty cool.  In the middle of a hot day, that’s not a bad thing.  But if you want a hot shower, you need to pour your water into a kettle and heat it over the fire… which again we are blessed to have already going for us.  The warmth of your shower depends on how long you’re willing to wait.  (By the way, BIG thanks to Aunt Janet for giving me the rest of her hot water.  I was content to take a cool shower, but got the treat of a hot one, thanks to her!)

Once your water is warm, you pour it into the bucket in the shower stall.  Hoist the bucket up as high as you can with the pulley, (which still isn’t high enough, if you’re as tall as I am!) and turn the lever for the shower head.  It’s important, too, to make sure you turn off the water in between rinses, or you will run out—not a good thing when your head is full of shampoo!

As complicated as this process is, it’s nothing compared to what most people in Africa go through on a daily basis.  The bucket shower is replaced by a basin behind the house.  Laundry is all washed by hand.  And every drop of water you use is carried in from the borehole. 

Just as I take physical cleanliness for granted, sometimes I forget just how difficult my spiritual cleanliness was to come by, as well.  It was so easy, and so refreshing, for me to come before God and be presented pure and holy… I forget just how difficult a process it really was.  I forget all that Jesus had to go through:  the dishonor of the Creator of the universe being limited by a physical human body; the Prince of Angels being said to work His miracles through the power of demons; the perfect, holy Son of God suffering through a torturous criminal’s death.  Getting clean was not easy.  It just seems that way, because I didn’t have to do the work!

40/40 Day 13- Welcome to the Wilderness

inside the tent

the tent

Bush Camp

After a 5½ hour bus ride and one pit stop on the side of a mountain, we just arrived at bush camp.  We’re set up on a 5-acre farm with about 40 safari tents.  Granted, the tents are really nice, with zip-up netting and a waterproof floor, and they’re more than tall enough for me to stand up in… but it’s still camping.  And I don’t camp. 

I’d rather do just about anything than use a PortaPotty.  My only bathroom for the next 2 weeks is a squatty potty outhouse.  When we were little, we would investigate hotel rooms to make sure they were decent before we agreed to stay there.  And now, here I am, lying on my 3-inch foam mattress with a head lamp and a pit latrine.

What am I doing here?  I am a girl.  A girly-girl.  I do not camp.  If you told me two years ago that I would live in a tent for two weeks, I would have told you that you needed to go hunting for your ever-loving mind, because you had obviously lost it!

Bush camp is just one more example of God calling me to do things that I can’t do.  I cannot live like this.  It is utterly and completely beyond me.  But God is showing me, over and over, that the things I can’t do are easy for Him.  There is absolutely NOTHING that He can’t do.  And because I have His Holy Spirit, I can trust Him to give me His power to accomplish what I can’t.  Even if it means living in a tent for two weeks.

I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.  (Isaiah 41:10)

Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”  (Mark 10:27)

Now, will somebody just show me where to plug in my hairdryer???

40/40 Day 12- Sunday Lunch

After today’s 3 hour church service ended, our group went next door to Pastor Ebby’s house for lunch.  Ebby is the 40/40 cultural guru, and has been a huge asset to our understanding the African culture and worldview; he is also a leader in the Baptist Fellowship of Zambia, and the pastor of Matero Baptist Church, where Christine, Jane, and Bridget worship.  We were looking forward to sharing a meal with these women with whom we have worked so closely for the past week.

When we entered Ebby’s house, we were invited to sit in the living room while the ladies finished preparing the meal.  This home was pretty typical, in that a very small room was full of the most and largest furniture that could possibly fit in it.  We sat on two huge overstuffed easy chairs and two matching loveseats.  In the middle was a large glass coffee table, with almost enough room to walk around it.  As soon as we were seated, the ladies offered us ice cold bottles of water, a huge treat after sweating through the service.  Just before it was time to eat, Christine came around the room with a basin and a pitcher, to allow us all to wash our hands before we ate.

The meal was classically African and absolutely amazing.  We had some incredible fried chicken (of course, I found out how they made it… planning to try it soon!), white beans, rice with a tomato sauce, sautéed cabbage, and, of course, nshima (a.k.a. posho, a.k.a. ugali).

Posho, as it’s called in Uganda, is finely ground corn meal, somewhere in between corn flour and grits.  It’s cooked and beaten and stirred in water until it becomes a solid mass about the consistency of play dough.  It has absolutely no flavor, but is eaten as a kind of utensil when eating beans, cabbage, greens, or just about any other food. 

We ate our feast, complete with soft drinks, from our laps in the living room.  What a joy and a blessing just to share a glimpse of how these precious people live.  Even though the prospect of bushcamp and homestay is overwhelming, unknown, and miles away from my comfort zone, I’m looking forward to spending more time with nationals and beginning to really understand who they are and how they live. 

40/40 Day 12- Heart Language

Today I went to Matero Baptist Church, where Christine worships.  It was a pretty typical African service: men and women sat separately, there was lots of music, all in Chinyanja, and the service lasted 3 hours from start to finish… and we got there early!

The experience of worshipping in another language never fails to affect me.  I love to hear Africans praising God—they are so genuine, so honest in their worship, so uninhibited.  And it is so humbling to know that I can sing praises to my God in a language I don’t even understand, yet He understands every word.  He is fluent in Chinyanja, in English, in German, in Lugbara, and in every other language that has ever existed.  He created them all.  And even though my meager attempts to speak these languages frustrate me to no end, it thrills Him, because my goal is to worship Him and to communicate with His people.

40/40 Day 10- Amazing Women

Me and Christine


Perry

Doris, Christine, Hope, and Perry

Christine has been my Zambian helper for my week in Lusaka.  She has introduced me to the people in her neighborhood, answered way too many stupid questions, kept me from paying the “mzungu” price, and helped me to see a little more deeply into African culture.  Her husband died from malaria in 2001, and she’s been raising and supporting her two daughters alone ever since.  Christine is an amazing woman of God, and has been a huge blessing to me as I’ve walked through the neighborhood of Matero this week. 

Today Christine introduced me to several women, and I was able to share the Word with them.  They all said they were born again, but Hope said she doesn’t go to church often because she feels embarrassed and shameful when she goes.  I reminded her that “there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”  (Romans 8:1)  I also was able to tell her that all people, even the people at her church, are sinners, even me, and the only hope for us is the blood of Jesus.

Jane is Hope’s landlady.  She owns a small compound with 4 or 5 small houses built around a shared courtyard.  She also runs a produce stand where she sells greens, okra, tomatoes, garlic, sugar cane, and spices, among other things.  She was one of 13 children in her family, but she is the only sibling still surviving.  She is now responsible for raising and providing for her brothers’ and sisters’ 23 children.  Understandably, Jane is a woman who feels completely overwhelmed by her lot in life.  She struggles to meet the needs of all the children she is now responsible for.  Though she is a believer and active in the Anglican church, I was able to encourage her with the story of how Jesus fed the 5000.  He is surely able to meet our needs in abundance, and Jane is trusting Him to provide for her family.

Doris is Jane’s friend, and lives just down the road.  As I spoke with her, she shared how faithful God has been to provide her needs.  I asked her how I could pray for her, and she told me she was asking God to use her like she has never been used before.  It was so humbling to see her faith… here is a woman who is struggling to survive, and her one prayer is to be used by God!

Please pray for these women—for Christine, as she raises her daughters alone; for Hope and her husband, that they would become closer to Christ and raise their son Perry to know Him; for Jane, as she struggles to provide for a huge family; for Doris, that God would show her where He wants her to minister, and that she would have the courage to follow.