So, the day started out with a tour of Lusaka, our bus was led by Megs, and it was pretty eye opening. We all packed into four buses and drove around, looking at the inner city, the Embassy- which you apparently can't take pictures of because we got detained briefly (our faces were priceless when the guard came on the bus to escort us back), many of the backroads, and we even got to visit one of the community schools- which was unreal.
**Pictures of the Embassy were deleted by Zambian officials- grrr**
The actual city of Lusaka is pretty city-like. They've got billboards with Coke-a-Cola and various clothing lines, a Subway, a mall of stores, and cars that pour down the streets and cause typical traffic, stoplights (which they call "robots").
They drive on the opposite side of the street and speed limit is measured in kilometers per hour (hence the 80 kph sign). As we drove back in depth of the city was where we started to see the images I had in my mind- people on the sides of the road selling goods, women carrying things on their head- which is so amazing to see, kids running around yelling, "Muzungoo!!" (means white people), and the huts that we see on tv.
If you closely in this last picture, the white sign advertises a local witch doctor, promising to heal all illness and worry. Unfortunately, many Zambians place faith in this evil.
After winding back through many roads, Megan directed our driver to head to one of the villages, and once our bus pulled in, kids began to pour out from all around, running alongside our bus, pounding on the side, yelling with bright smiles on their faces. They were so incredibly excited to see us! One little boy was running along, tripped, landed spread eagle on his face, but got right back up and continued running. Tears just started flowing down my face, as I realized how amazing this all was, and seeing the devastation these children lived in. I had never in my life, seen something with so many different emotions filling my heart, and it was just overwhelming.
As we pulled up the community school, the kids were having such a hard time containing themselves. We opened the doors, stepped out, and were immediately swarmed with precious Zambian orphans. Their smiles were the biggest I've ever seen, and they were just so beautiful. They all wanted to hold our hands and give us a high five. And ALL the kids wanted a "snap" (picture). We walked into their one-room classroom, which held 600 children on a daily basis- yes 600. Let me tell you how shocking this all was to take in. The school was not well built per say- as the bricks were more rock-like, and looked to be held together with mud. There were maybe 5 desks in the room, which was the size of a living room in an apartment (15' x 15'). There was one head teacher- who had one assistant- there everyday to teach all of these children of all ages. Megan gave her a letter, which promised five more desks for allowing us to visit- an incredible blessing. She nearly cried with joy and gave her thanks to God. 
We stayed for another ten minutes, hugging the kids, shaking their hands, and taking snaps. When we loaded the bus, the kids, again, ran alongside, laughing and waving, with those beautifully bright smiles.
Camp was the highlight of the day. My girls were ready for me, and their eager smiles lit up my heart. I have thirteen girls, ages 11 to 13, all from Kanyama, which is the most dangerous village in Lusaka where they pull kids for camp. All of the girls were in line, necklaces around their necks that displayed their name made from strings and beads. This is what they had worked on in the morning, while I was touring their city. Anita and Jane were the first two girls in line and were already working on my necklace- they were so very excited to make that for me, and Jane's face was just a brilliant smile all the way until the first blessing time- I'll get to that later.
 |
| Anna, 12 |
 |
| Agness, 13 |
 |
| Christabel, 11 |
 |
| Maureen, 11 |
 |
| Doris, 12 |
 |
| Anita, 11 |
 |
| Elizabeth, 12 |
 |
| Ireen, 13 |
 |
| Lieza, 13 |
 |
| Jane , 12 |
 |
| Anna, 11 |
 |
| Lillian, 11 |
 |
| Memory, 11 |
I walked my girls into the GO Center and Uncle Greer welcomed them to camp- dancing and singing. We had our own little party introducing our children to what camp would be like for them, learning about their Saviour. Greer and Pastor Raphael spoke about His Kingdom and the four steps to have power in their lives: hear the Word, understand the Word, believe the Word, and speak the Word. All of the kids were intently listening- which as a former teacher, was so amazing to witness, as in my classrooms, that was a rare sight. These kids were absorbing every single word that was spoken, and you could look into their eyes and see that they were trying with all their hearts to believe it and making a plan for themselves.
We went outside for lunch, and the girls were so quiet! I tried so hard to talk to them, speaking slowly and trying to use gestures that I thought would make sense to them. They knew very little English, so it was very difficult, and they would smile often, watching me stumble to communicate. It was so hard to get to know them on my own. My apostle, Florence, wasn't there, as she was called back to the orphanage where she works, and Felidah had gone to get our food. When she came back, the silence continued. I passed out lunch. My girls got four slices of bread and an energy drink, and myself and my Zambian evangelist and apostle had peanut butter & jelly sandwiches. I know this sounds awful- they only got bread- and you would think that they would complain and point out the difference between our lunches and theirs. They didn't! They were so grateful for those four slices, and ate them so carefully, savoring every bite. At one point, Felidah leaned over to say thank you, and I asked her why they were so quiet. She told me that it was custom for the children to not talk during meals, as this was the time for the adults to have conversation. I laughed to myself for my desperate efforts and smiled at my girls who were eating their food in silence, respectful of my presence. How different they are from the kids I have been around in America. It made me wonder how so many of our customs have become lost and forgotten.
Back in the GO Center, the Zambians did a skit about a girl who was abused and was being persuaded into prostitution. The girl declined, and the two people who were tempting her told her she might as well end her life. This sounds like such a mature subject for kids, but this is every day life in Zambia for these children- rape, prostitution, suicide, and death. So in the skit, "Death" comes in and the girl takes the rope he has given her to climb up a ladder and attempt to hang herself. Just as she gets to the top to throw the rope over a beam, "Blessing" comes on stage to save her. It takes some coaxing, but she accepts him and takes Jesus as her Saviour. The kids, again, were intently watching all of this- not playing with their friends or talking- completely focused! And their focus remained for the next full hour as Uncle Greer and Pastor Raphael spoke more about His Kingdom. They quoted Romans 10: 9-10 in English and Nyanga:
9 If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. 10 For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.We went outside for group time and I asked the girls about what they heard inside. We talked about His Kingdom and the four steps to gain power in their lives. They were able to recite every single one of the steps back to me with intensity and belief- both in English and in their native tongue, Nyanga.
After the small group discussion, I had blessing time with two of my girls. Blessing time is a very special time with the Zambian children. The American ambassadors sit down with each child, individually, along with their Zambian evangelist, who translates and aids in getting to know the child at a very personal level. When I sat down with each one of my girls, I always started with a prayer. I took their small hand in mine, while my evangelist, Felidah, took the other, and prayed for thanks to be here with this child, and guidance. I knew that sitting down with a child who looked up to me, and most likely didn't want to discuss her problems in fear that I may not like them anymore, would need God's hands. I prayed for comfort and love, so that my precious girls would know that they could trust me, and that no matter what they said, I would remain by their side. Then I traced their hand on a piece of paper, while telling them that when I pray for them, I will place my hand over theirs and speak their name out loud to God. As they talked to me, I filled their hand with their life- where they live, how old they are, who they live with, where they sleep, how often they eat, if they go school, what they want to be when they grow up, and if Jesus is their Lord and Saviour. The very last thing I ask them is what they need prayers for.
I had blessing time with Anita and Jane today, and both of them told me they have dreams at night that terrify them. In America, dreams can be wonderful, but in Zambia, dreams are evil visions brought by witches. Anita had dreams that she was eating meat- which was a huge red flag, as Megan had warned me of those types of dreams. This little girl was telling me it was meat, but in reality, she was eating human flesh- I knew right then and there that she would need urgent and desperate prayers for protection. Jane had dreams that she was working for the witches, and she would wake up exhausted in the morning- another terrifying thought, as she could never remember what "work" she was doing. I told Anita and Jane to pray out loud in the name of Jesus Christ for the dreams to stop, and that I would do the same, and tomorrow we would discuss what happened.
Later that night, after dinner, we watched a documentary about AIDS and its disastrous effects on Zambia. The only word I could find to describe it was shocking. The men in this country refuse to wear condoms, and they sleep with multiple women, starting at a very young age. Even with AIDS, they see no harm in spreading the disease, nor do they care if their sisters contract it from like men. To quote from a young man who was interviewed about the fate of his three sisters, "I feel nothing."
I thought of my girls and their future in this country. I wondered if they were already being affected. It broke my heart just to think about the unknown. I prayed earnestly for them, and for my two girls who had dreams, out loud- a first for me, as my prayers have always been unspoken while by myself. Greer told us that night to not dare get in the way of a miracle this week, and I planned on following that rule.
I truly believed, and still believe, that intently praying to Jesus will save these precious children. It was just the end of day one with my girls, and my heart was already being twisted and pulled in ways I didn't think existed. I lay down that night praying for strength, as I knew that the rest of the week would be harder and harder every day.
No comments:
Post a Comment