Graduation Day

Today was sanitation graduation day. It may be the closest I’ll ever feel to being a celebrity.  Most of the students arrived early, dressed in their finest clothes.  As we’d do in America, we planned to read each name and hand out a sanitation certificate of completion. We’d form a receiving line, shake each hand, and do a polite round of applause.  The students had other plans…

As each name was called, the recipient would approach each instructor and do the Bimba 3-move handshake, take the certificate, hold it over his head, and start dancing and singing. The rest of the class joined in as the person expressed their joy. Every person had their moment in the spotlight. This continued as each received their certificate. The room was filled to bursting with songs, gratitude, and thanksgiving.

Then it was photo-op time.  Some of the wealthier students with cameras asked to be photographed with each teacher. With only a tinge of jealousy, it should be noted that many of the students only wanted to pose with Bart. We posed inside, we posed outside, and we posed in groups. We smiled until our cheeks ached.

Our group needed to catch the bus to Lusaka so we tried to make a hasty exit. Some of the students insisted on carrying our baggage to the car. When I demurred, one student grabbed my bag out of my hand to take it to the car. She stood watch over it until it was loaded into the vehicle 

The Zambians are fairly formal people. They don’t do a lot of public displays of affection. They will shake your hand or grab you by the wrist. There are no pats on the back or other physical endearments. That was great for me because I’m not a physically affectionate person.  On this day, however, there were hugs all around. The women either hugged me side to side over each shoulder or gave me a bone-crushing bear hug. Even some of the men, who initially wouldn’t make direct eye-contact, pressed my hand, looked into my eyes and thanked me for teaching them.

Many asked to keep in touch. Under the advisement of our team leader, we only gave our email addresses to a few select students.  As I wrote in a previous blog, it is hard not to have favorite students. There are some people, because of their spirit, who just seem to speak to your soul.

The parting was bittersweet. While I’m tired and ready for home, the work is not finished. At the commencement ceremony, the office manager vowed the work we started would be completed. He said he would email the pictures to us as proof.  We’ve been asked to return in six months to do more training. Who knows what God has planned? In this trip, we planted good seeds. We planted seeds of hope.

 It’s important to note, I turn on the sub-titles for British films. My high school French teacher knew I had no ear for linguistics. This trip proves it.

Our security guard approaches. He asked for relish. His wife has forgotten it.  Relish, relish? Oh, I recall there’s some chili-pickle relish in the pantry so I run and get it. I hand it to him with a teaspoon.  He politely accepts it and returns to his guard station.  Only later am I told that “relish” is the word for a vegetable and gravy mixture the local people eat with their nshima.  He must have been very disappointed.

All morning, the class kept saying they wanted a latrine with a glass roof.  I don’t question it during class since I’m the apprentice.  After class, I ask our engineer. Are you sure we want to do a glass roof? That seems pretty hot and dangerous. He bursts out laughing. They are saying grass not glass. Oh, that makes sense-doh.

A Seeds of Hope driver approaches me and asks how I like the city.  I say, “Oh, you mean Ndola? It’s nice.”  He shakes his head and says, “No, the city. The city.”  Only then do I realize, this is the guy who gave me a CD of his singing. It was nice too.

Mrs. Lombe is late for class. I ask her how she is doing. She says “Not great. I haven’t had my coffee.” I say, “Oh, you like coffee and not tea?  I like coffee too.” (Trying to make conversation you know). Only later am I told that Mrs. Lombe has a cold and has been coughing all morning. 

Yesterday, we did a role-play. I played the part of the facilitator. The class was to evaluate the session and tell me what I did wrong. This took some encouragement as the Zambians are excruciatingly polite. Finally, one offered up, “You don’t listen very well.”

What’s scary? These are the few examples I know about. How many other times have I totally missed it? “He who has ears, let him hear.”

We’ve started packing.  Tomorrow is graduation for our class.  It’s hard to leave knowing the projects are not completed. I have to keep reminding myself, we are the teachers, not the doers.  It’s up to the community to complete the latrines for the children.

After class tomorrow, we take that lovely bus ride back to Lusaka.  This may be my last entry for awhile. Thank you for your love, prayer, and support. I’m sure I’ll have more to share upon re-entry.  At some point, I’ll have to rename my blog. This girl isn’t so reluctant anymore.

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As an addendum to yesterday’s entry about forgiveness, I went to the team leader. Although I’d been stewing for days, he was totally unaware of the source of my frustration. He apologized profusely as did I. We both forgave the other.  It was hard but it made things right again.

Furthermore, I’m pretty good at what I do. I’m an educator for a healthcare provider.  I have training responsibility for about 300 people. Most days, I operate at a high-level of self-efficacy (translation; I think I’m pretty hot stuff).

To NOT be the lead trainer, and to succumb (er, submit) to another leader has been frustrating for me.  Yesterday, I was at my limit. A couple of times I either stomped off or snapped back. This is not pretty behavior in a 47-year-old leadership apprentice.

First, let me start by saying, our leader is a fine and honorable man. I have no doubt he would lay down his life for a member of our team. He checks in daily with everyone to make sure they are doing okay. He always takes the worst seat in the van and then, in a gentlemanly manner, extends his hand to help you out of the vehicle. In spite of illness and injury, when other men might have given up and gone to bed, this guy has been working every day. I’m sure this is the leader God chose for me to have on this trip and yet…

We are very different. He is an engineer. He is a man’s man—the father of 2 sons who worked in the oil industry, on oil rigs, much of his career… He is analytical and yet, he flies by the seat of his pants. He appears to value the construction side of the project more than the educational side. He reviews my budgeting work and then says “This can’t be right.” Well, gee, no kidding, I don’t even balance my checkbook. Are you getting the picture? This is a ying meets yang situation people.

I haven’t processed what all this means but a couple of thoughts:

1. I have a big ego that needs to be kept in check. Part of submitting is acknowledging the value and the authority of the leader’s role. Just writing about his positive characteristics above made me feel more warmly toward him.  I’m a leadership apprentice but this trip has made me realize how challenging that role actually is….clearly, you can’t make everyone happy.
2. Leaders need to mind the 10/90 rule. For every negative or even neutral comment given, a trainee needs nine positive comments. Apprentices who are normally very competent in the real world are very fragile in this strange and foreign role. This is an area I need to work on as do other leaders.
3. Confrontation is hard.  It’s easier for me to just to stay angry, to mutter, and complain (even if it’s just on the inside) or worse, just shut down.  Right now, this morning, I need to go my leader and ask forgiveness.  It’s not because we disagree, it’s because of the anger I feel. 

This past two weeks, God keeps bringing my limitations to me. Yesterday’s work group presented devotions from Genesis. They read the story of how Jacob went to Esau to ask forgiveness. Like Christ, Esau ran to Jacob, he forgave him readily, and asked nothing in return.

Zambia is a country of contradictions.  There are motivated people who work hard and love the Lord. As in any culture, I suppose, there is a large population of people who invest little in their quality of life.  

There is a legacy of hopelessness. The problem is systemic.  It started with colonialism no doubt. Countries came in and plundered resources. In Ndola, those resources were minerals, in particular copper. Another contributor is the history of the mines. The mines were heavily unionized. This created a patriarchal society with the union as big papa. In turn this fostered an attitude of entitlement. Zambian independence, I’m told, also perpetuated entitlement. In the early 60s, the government invested a lot of money into education and healthcare. Little was spent on sustainable economic growth.  Nearly two generations later, people who are highly educated have no work or hope of securing a job that pays a living wage.

Theft is common. One of the team members from COST had his back pack with his laptop, passport, cash, and book stolen from our host’s car.  Tools and gloves disappear from the job site. Even those you think you might trust are duplicitous. Many homes have guard dogs. Almost all homes, apartments, and businesses have bars on the window. Many employ full-time guards.

Today we started building the school latrine at Mapalo. Community turn out was poor.  The ones who did turn out were women. We had plenty of men stand around and watch.  I wanted to scream at them DON’T YOU KNOW WE ARE DOING THIS FOR YOUR CHILDREN?  One of the male volunteers from Seeds of Hope said the men were probably too busy drinking beer. 

Oh, some of the community turned out—just not the way we wanted. We had jugs of water for the workers. We were digging latrines in 100 degree heat.  A well-dressed man came up to me and demanded water. He was wearing dress slacks, a silk shirt, and the kicker, a Dolce Gabbana belt. (imitation, no doubt).  He did not look poverty-stricken. I said, “The water is for the workers. Do you want to work?” He said no but that he wanted water. I said “No work, no water.”  At the same time, I’m thinking “We’re Lifewater. How can I begrudge someone water?” Nevertheless, I was incensed. Now granted, I don’t know what this guy’s situation is but his attitude got me riled. He grabbed a cup, helped himself to the water, and then sauntered off. This was the second time this had happened that day. 

In Africa, it is estimated that women do 90% of the work and yet hold less than 10% of the wealth. This must be true.  Women strapped their babies to toddlers, picked up homemade shovels and dug latrines. They toted heavy logs that will be turned into latrine floors. They moved barrels of water men could not lift. Women in Zambia want a better life for their children. 

As a volunteer in a developing or in this case, a declining nation, it is easy to become disheartened.   Over the last two weeks I’ve mentioned my struggle with love. I could not love the guy in the orange jersey.  I was reminded of the passage in the Bible (can’t find the reference right now) where it talks about how it is easy to love those who are like us. The challenge of Christ’s love is loving the unlovable.

Worshippng At Nsobe Game Park

Today we took a much needed mini-holiday. Ndola Christian Fellowship Church held their annual picnic at Nsobe Park.  NFC is a church of ex-pats. Yes, 90% of the congregation appeared to be Caucasian.  Of course, things are never as simple as they appear. Among the congregants 10 nations are represented. The church had trouble keeping a pastor because of the difficulty in addressing the needs of the diverse members.

What they’ve done is split responsibility among the elders. Each takes a turn preaching.  In the service, we heard testimonies of what the Lord is doing in people’s lives, witnessed a water baptism, sang hymns and praise songs that we actually knew.  We sat under a reed and grass canopy and heard the word of God. It came as a pleasant  surprise to find a church so very different from the one we attended last week and, yet, so very similar. This is clearly a united body of believers seeking God and desiring to be more Christ-like. I never fully understood the hymn We Are One In the Bond of Love until now.

The message shared from the pulpit was a culmination the church’s weekend retreat. The theme of the weekend (btw: the speaker said it wasn’t a weekend but a “strong-end”) was Get Out of the Boat. I think this has been God’s recurring word for me this season. One of our training groups used a similar message in the devotions held earlier last week.  Isn’t this what God wants of all of us–to get out of the boat? We cannot have a relationship with a God we do not trust. The only way to build trust is to get out of our comfort zone and rely on God. This means getting out of our boat. 

As most of you know, this trip has taken me about as far out of my comfort zone as I could go. I wasn’t sure I could swim.  While I’ll need more time to reflect, thus far, it’s been worth it! We’ve had trials. Nothing has gone as exactly planned but God has been faithful.

Readers: Read John 21. What is your boat? What are you clinging to?  What will make you jump in the water and swim toward Christ?  A bountiful, abundant life awaits us.

• We’ve been out of the country for 10 days now. That is the longest I’ve ever been away from home. Ever. I really miss my own bed and pillow. And, let’s be honest; I miss Starbucks.
• Teaching takes it out of you. It was an intense week of training. Although our students speak English, we often don’t understand them and they don’t understand us.  This leads to stressful facilitation. When you are teaching and training, you are always “on.”  Even at home, by Friday, I am toast.
• Having to be super safety conscious is also getting tiring. Washing all our food in bleach water, filtering the water, avoiding mosquitoes, and other pests all take energy. Another incident yesterday caused my adrenaline levels to spike. On our way to the compound, we stopped in Ndola to pick up some white fabric for a funeral. As we walked down the street, a sinister looking man tried to pick my pocket.  He wasn’t very skilled so I knew right away but only had time to gasp. Our team leader saw what was happening and yelled “hey” and the guy backed off.  The pick-pocket would have been sorely disappointed to discover he’d pinched a napkin of Purell hand sanitizer. My cash and passport are in a pouch around my neck.  Still, it gave me a fright.
• It is getting hotter every day. I love the heat so I’m not complaining too much. It’s just that the heat saps your energy. I’m literally sweaty all the time. Consequently, I feel dirty and grimy all the time.  The low temperature in our room yesterday was 79 degrees.
• Forced co-habitation is wearing. I love my teammates. I really do. They are a fascinating and amazing pair. However, Bart and I live a very peaceful, private life. We’ve shared space with 2 (now 3) other people for the last 10 days. We are together all day long. We eat together, we shop together, and we work together so everything has to be negotiated.  We have no transportation and we’re so far from town, we can’t even get away from each other.  While I’m learning a lot about truly living in community, it is difficult sometimes.
• Finally, even though this week was hard, we all know next week will be even harder. Our goal is to build 1 “institutional” latrine. That is a latrine that can be used at a school or church. We also hope to build 2 home-style latrines that people could make from local materials.  Originally, we’d hoped to build 6 latrines. Then, it was 4. Now we are down to 3. Even that may not be realistic. We have a Solomon’s choice to make. Do we build the latrines at the Mapalo school where most of the children are orphans? Or, do we build in McKenzie at the New Apostolic church? There are pros and cons on both sides. How do we choose? We’ve left it in God’s hands to help us decide.

 There is calm in the storm. Now that I have some of the complaining out of the way, I will share one observation. Yesterday, I was preparing my lesson, writing a role play, and creating a review quiz. These are all tasks I do every day at work. I was sitting in a plastic chair, sweating. I glance out the open door and suddenly realize, I’m RELAXED.  I’m more relaxed than when I went on a cruise. While I could be stressed, I wasn’t. Maybe this is what peace feels like. 

This morning is Saturday. Normally Seeds of Hope would not run classes today; however, so much work  needs done here. We are going to pour a couple of concrete slabs this morning. Four motivated students agreed to come to class to learn extra skills. 

 This afternoon and tomorrow we hope to have a break. A new person has joined the guest house. Her name is Heidi. She works for COST out of Alberta, Canada. Heidi, Karen, and I have planned a girl’s day.  We hope to go to town to see the African market and perhaps pick up some African cloth and gifts for friends at home. The Schuer’s have offered to take us to an ex-pat church tomorrow. That church just happens to be holding their summer picnic at a game park.

 I’m looking forward to the Sabbath. I need it.

*Name changed to protect her privacy.
**Seeds of Hope is a commercial and a compassionate organization. They do well-drilling, construct bio-sand filters, as well as other humanitarian efforts. They provide much-needed employment in Ndola. To learn more visit http://www.seedsofhopecm.com/

Our Zambian students jump right into construction.

Bart and I have been married for almost 27 years. We met in our early teens.  We are one of those gaggy couples who love to spend time together. In all our years of marriage, we’ve slept apart, maybe, 5 nights. I thought I knew everything there is to know about Bart. Even though, for the duration of this trip, we are sleeping in separate bunk beds, this trip is teaching me new things about my spouse.

My husband is a diplomat. I should have known this by the way he answers my question of “Do these pants make me look fat?” Here is a better example:

We kicked off a training session with a review. The students were asked to craft a question to pose to the class. They were also to prepare an answer to the question. The goal was to address the technical components of the course. S., one of our more challenging students, took this as an opportunity to take on the community development model utilized by Lifewater.

Note; Lifewater is a teaching organization. Our goal is to work with in-country partners in equipping community organizers to promote behavioral changes in their local communities.

S.’s question and the tone in which it was asked immediately put my heart to racing. Bart, un-phased, politely thanked S. for the question.  He was wise enough to pose the question to the rest of the group. They immediately set their co-hort straight. I was watching Bart the whole time. He didn’t even blink.  At the first break, Bart went immediately to S., and initiated a dialogue with him. He  heard S.’s concerns for his community but he made no concessions. He was the picture of diplomacy.

Bart is a kind and patient teacher. Today was the first day of construction.  We have 14 students with a wide range of abilities. Many are completely new to construction. Although English is the official language of Zambia, all of our students are ESL. This was taking the prior 2 days of technical, theoretical information and applying it in one marathon session.

Bart had them all engaged; Cutting boards, measuring & squaring the forms, mixing and pouring the concrete, and finally hand finishing it. We had to work quickly as the concrete was drying quickly under the African sun.

As an aside it is getting HOTTER every day. The hot dry season peaks in October.

When the concrete slab was completed, the students sang a song in Bimba. We asked for a translation. The song is about children who go to their father asking for sorghum and the father gives sorghum. The children return again and again asking for more. The father continues to supply the need. One of the students said “This song is for you. We needed more knowledge. God sent you here to give us more knowledge.”

Bart is awesome. Most people who meet him know it. This trip just helped me see it in a whole new way.

Bart Instructs Construction Class

Communication Styles Are Different (duh): Monday was my first faux pas. We kick off class by asking students to draw a picture of themselves, things important in their lives, and how much experience they have with sanitation training. They were asked to share this information with the class. Like any good trainer, I explained the activity. Then, I modeled the behavior showing a picture I had drawn and explaining it to the class.  The first two students did the introduction as I had demonstrated, standing in their place and explaining their drawing. Soon after, other students started taking their pictures to each member, one by one, around the circle. They shared their picture and did their introductions 13 times! Introductions were soon going to take all day!  I didn’t want to hurt their feelings by correcting them.  Finally, I said, “Let’s stretch our legs.”  I invited the remaining students to post their pictures on the wall and explain it to all of us at one time from a standing position. Clearly this is a culture that values direct, one-on-one communication.  It will be challenging to get this group to do presentations, however, the ability to connect at an individual level is invaluable for a community organizer.

 Students Love Games:  My second day went a little better. We’d divided the large group into 4 smaller groups.  The groups were asked to select a team name.  Two of the groups selected football (soccer) team names.  After our instruction for the day, I devised a review activity called “Name that Latrine.” I was pretty sure no one in the group was familiar with game shows (although I’ve seen plenty of satellite dishes on the lowliest of houses).  I divided the group into two football teams. I posed the review question. If the soccer team got it right, they scored a goal. If they missed the question, the question went to the other team and they had a chance to score a goal.  At each goal, we’d raise our hands in the air and yelled “goal”! The teams were fiercely competitive and you would have thought they were playing a real football game. 

 Students Complain: At the end of each day, we ask the students to provide a review of the day; what went well, what could be improved.  Even in Zambia, the number one complaint was about the snack. They didn’t like the cookies. These were chocolate chip cookies made by our Zambian “chef.s”  Oh, and they didn’t like the types of drinks.  Argh! These are also my least favorite types of training comments I receive at work in the United States.  A wise person once told me that complaints are a gift. A starving person is grateful for any type of food. People’s basic needs are met when they can complain.

 Students are Smarter Than the Teacher:  Another student suggestion for improving the class was to sing a song between each section to signify its completion. Well, okay. The Africans love to sing. They riff back and forth. Different voices will take the lead. They harmonize. It is beautiful. As I’m writing this the Seeds of Hope team is starting their business day with song. We started doing songs between sections. The Zambians took the lead. We sang worship songs. We sang silly songs. We did an African children’s song dancing in a circle. By the end of the game the cannibals end up in the middle of the circle! All were sung in Bimba until I taught them the Hokey-pokey. We laughed. It was energizing. It helped us bond.

Finally, I am still learning. I have been in training and education for over 15 years. I still forget what I should know. Fortunately, my students are teaching me with grace, and humor.

 Linda

After church, just like in America, we go out for lunch after church.  Our Seeds of Hope hosts take us to a restaurant owned by a Lebanese ex-pat. How weird is it to eat shawama(sp) and chips in Zambia?

After lunch we return to the guest house to prepare for the next day of class.  Four days of travel or perhaps it was the shawama take its toll on my digestive system! The power goes out at 7pm and comes back on around 9. I’m more than happy to go to bed.

 Classes Start: The next morning we are up at 5:45am. Our students are due at 9am.  That might sound like a lot of time but keep in mind we do everything by hand; dishes, laundry, toting the water to be filtered. We are fortunate that Seeds of Hope have 2 “chefs” that come in and prepare the noon meal and snacks for the class.

Fourteen students arrive. Six have taken the course before. Eight are new students. It’s striking that people from abject poverty would choose to be community organizers for sanitation. They receive no compensation for it; however, sickness reduces the ability to earn money. These are visionaries who see sanitation as one of the means to escape poverty. Another observation; Despite their poverty, these people are smart and, in some cases, well-educated. They learn Bimba in the family home but learn English as soon as they enter the public school system. Two of our students arrive in native dress and speak limited English. One of the students offers to translate when necessary.

Our chefs prepare our morning tea which is served with jelly sandwiches. At noon they make a native African dish; Beef in a tasty sauce, sauté rabe (sp), and enshima(sp) which is a semi-soft, starch the Zambians use to scoop up their food.

Class concludes at 4:45. A Seeds of Hope staffer takes us to get the provisions at the ShopRite, the local store. The store is crowded and the lines are very long. It has many but not all the things you might find in the US as well as many items from the UK. We’re so tired, we try to work from the list but just randomly throw things in our cart. The meat looks really scary so we avoid that altogether.

It’s now 9:30pm. We haven’t lost power. Lon and I worked on our team’s expenses. Karen and Bart are still fine-tuning the details for tomorrow’s class.