Whirl Wind Visit

You daily do your job and surely the folk you work with are appreciative, but it is your job. Your routine and regular problems tend to keep the mind busy. Then you get a visit from Colin Glassco and Debbie Norman from Canada and the Glassco Foundation, our major contributor. Colin never stands still; he is always leaning hard towards his next appointment. His time is measured against a formidible list of things that must be done. As he says there is a good portionof his head labeled, Donor. His purpose is to see that contributors get an almost first hand view of what their money has done and is doing. As we are touring our facility, Colin is reviewing the rest of the day with Debbie and you can feel his day and your part in it. Cameras, video and still, record where we are with each of those funded projects. All this gets you looking at your everyday routine as something much larger and worthy of inspection and come with an overwhelming gratefyllness for the faith and generosity of Colin and others thousands of miles away.

For such an exhilarating, it was not without its problems which seem almost humorous now. It started when Phillip arrived on foot in the morning. He explained that the large lock we bought yesterday for the new front gate did not seem to work with the one key that was with it. Unable to unlock the gate, he left his car and climb over it. He retrieved the extra keys that had come with the lock, at least one of which worked and our day was started. But there was to be one more 'key' problem. Phillip had in this 'timed' visit managed to work out a surprise for our guest, lunch at Portea Lodge and a chance for Colin to and the chair of our board, Jenny Liva, to meet. She runs the lodge so it would be about the only way for them to get together. Everything was going smoothly right up to the surprise. We had gotten in the van and about to drive off, except the ignition key would not turn, the mechanism had frozen up. The fact that the Glassco Foundation had purchased this vehicle only added to the uncomfortableness of the situation. The clock seemed like an inevitable steam roller pressing the rest of the day flat. I have no idea how long we 'played' with that key and ignition, was it hours? Debbie and Colin, seasoned travelers were used to dealing with unexpected delays. But finally Phillip's car returned from its errands. A quick check or the schedule revealed that we could still make it if we persevered and se did. Wonderful meal, Jenny a gracious hostess, and back on time (give or take 5 minutes) to the hotel in Lusaka.

New Month: A new house on my monthly meal rotation:
You have to 'learn' a new house; each has a different feel, different rules, and different expectations of the guest.

Things you would notice as a first-time guest in any of the houses: You are the first to be seated, generally at the head of the table. Water is brought for you to wash your hands (soap and towel may be included). You are served first. Once in your chair, you do not rise for anything that anyone else could possibly do for you, until the meal is over. Things brought to you like a fork may come by way of a child with a respectful kneel. You are the only one with knife and fork. You will have your own private water pitcher and only you will have access to the juice flavoring to put in your water to mask the boiled flavor. Since you are seved first, you have to wait the longest to start eating and only after grace has been said. Most of the conversation at the table will be in Nyanja and thus incomprehensible to you. Some polite coversation will be made from time to time in English. Water to wash may be offered again at the end of the meal. You will be severely questioned if you should take the initiative to say take your dishes out to the kitchen. "Wasn't there a mother or one of the children to do that for you?" At each house I have explained several times that it is nice to be such a pamped guest, but it is even nicer for me to be 'one of the family'. Through improving negotiations, I have gotten the 'Ritz treatment' down to about one night.

Do they know what I like and don't like? They seemed to and it was like this info was passed from house to house along with me. By the time you've gotten to your 4th house, you feel confident. That was until Friday and the first night in house 3, I was being served and I asked what it was (it was not obvious). "Offals" was the answer delivered along with two portion on my plate with the beans and nshima. My mind quickly weighed my alternatives. My stomach was not feeling in an experimental mood (as the day I ate the termites). I didn't want to waste the food so I offered it back apologetically. I had forgotten about offals and had thought that capenta (very small dried fish) was the only dish I didn't care for. Other houses fixed soya bits for me on capenta nights. This was the first meal of offal I had encounted on this visit.

The story reading detail came with me and it was expected after supper. One child brought me a story-picture book to read, lasted only a few minutes and I picked "Charlotte's Web" which we are now well into, with a first night audience of 8.

This Weeks' Interview:
Annette Mwala is 16 and came at age 11 when we were in Lusaka. She is in grade 8 at SOS school.

On my last visit, she was a student of mine and was shy but smart and I would call on her when nobody else knew the answer. She was not quick to raise her hand and she was not altogether comfortable with me as her teacher and would look at me skeptically when I was trying something new. (And she like the others was having difficulty understanding me.) I did not fit her picture of what a teacher should be. I was not Ms Mwanza, whom all the children loved and trusted and never did silly things like this guy. Annette, I would say was always reserved and I never worried about her not doing her own work or cribbing on an exam.

When needing a song, hers was a strong voice which quickly inspirred the others to join in. She was also reliable for a morning prayer. (Yes, we do that here.)

Hobbies: Dancing (African), singing and listening to music (gospel).
Goals: Jouralist or lawyer. She would like to continue her education abroad.
Happiest memories: When her brother Charles came to live here.
Saddest memories: When Mother Alice past away.
Changes at Chishawasha: I speak and understand English. How much did you understand what I said on my first visit? Not a lot. (Ouch! Oh, did I say she was honest?)

Changes in our organization: We are helping a lot more people.
Like best: The teaching, [that is] my education.
Like least or what would I change: (no offering)

Other relatives: I have a cousin here: Nicholas Banda.

Friends outside Chishawasha: Yes at my old school and now at the new one.

What was life like before Chishawasha: No school, nowhere to live, no one to take care of us. Where you taking care of your younger brother at that time? Yes. [She had come originally saying she had no siblings as she check this organization out. Once she determined it was safe, brought her brother in.]

Container wish: Laptop, radio, clothes and shoes.

If you had the money: I'd buy clothes, shoes and yes, a house. If anything happened here, I would have a place to go.

Anything else you'd like to say:
I started out in Lusaka. I remember my parents. My father was a truck driver. Did he ever let you ride in the truck? Yes. He died of T-B when I was 9. My parent divorced when I was 5. My father remarried and my step-mother was bad, she also died when I was was 9. I lost contact with my mother. She remarried, I don't know her name. She had other children. I would like to find my other brothers and sisters, I have tried but so far without success.

Signs of Protea
Our old small sign on the Great North Road will be removed and put at our entrance off Minestone Road. A larger sign will replace it all thanks to Protea Lodge. As Jenny Liva said the original was too small for a fast trafficked highway, hardly readable unless you were looking for it. But it will be just the thing to direct folks into our drive and new gate.

Soccer Report: For the want of a shoe...
A couple of times last week around 4 pm, I went for an amble and wound up following the noise to the new temporary soccer pitch at the end of the school.

So much energy dissipated in those last two hours before the sun went down. Hard playing and including many of the younger boys, some of whom could mix it up with the oldest twice their height. Boys played to exhaustion, bent over to catch their breath and then got at it again.

What most caught my attention was their foot gear or lack of it. Many went barefoot, although much of the pitch is hard packed clay there are plentiful stones of various sizes. John, one of our best players, was wearing sandal. I told him that I was sure this was illegal since every time he kicked the ball wih any force the others had to not only watch where the ball was going, but also had o follow the trajectory of his sandal to keep from being hit. Wisedom was playing with one knee length red sock on withsomething wrapped round his ankle beneath it. Siva was playing with one (winter) boot. You would have no problem counting the toes of most players, shoe or no. Needless to say, none had soccer shoes. It was painful for me walking back with them in the on-coming darkness. They were limping and wobbling like old soldiers fresh from a campaign.

It just so happened that yesterday was 'shoe day' at the warehouse and I attended to see if anyone was getting soccer shoes. There were none. Some of the shoes were sports shoes, but most were in such good condition that they wouldn't get near the ptich for at least 6 months and as many toes showing.

Knowing about this blog, John asked me to make soccer shoe appeal and I just did.

This is Shoeless Sam blog pressing out of Africa.