Again the children are not used to a story reading session after the meal and don't quite seem to know what to make of it. Sometimes I start with what looks to be the youngest about 3 in number and as I read the group grows in numbers and in age. I have them select the books and bring me the ones they want to hear. At this cold season of the year with short days and long nights, it is an old tradition to sit around the fire and listen to stories. We lack two things, the fire and the story teller. We sit indoors and listen to stories being read. In house 1, I read almost exclusively African folk tales. (except for Charlotte's Web). Our thanks go out to the Ithaca group who got a suit case full of African stories to us for the school library. Trying hard not to make this a little American colony and attempting to honor in some way Zambian culture, I read as much as I can of African material to them. Stories of children who's main relationship seems to be with a TV set and cell phone and a room so full of material things that they can't deal with it, who eat cookies, junk food, soda and pizza and hang out at the mall are not what I think they need to hear about.
Zambian Weather
Seems we've run out of what I can the Zambian Tourist Weather. I has gotten cold. How can I say that, having been raised on the frigid plains of eastern Montana; and having gone to school in the Rocky Mountains further west? Cold for me starts somewhere below zero. Why here its gotten down as low as 13 deg. C. Seems that's about 58 deg. F. Surely one can't call that cold. Well, not if you are living in a heated fairly tight house, and travel in a heated car and visit other places that are thermostatically controlled then that's not cold. Here if the temperature is 58 deg. F that is the temperature everywhere. In your bedroom, in the shower, in the kitchen, in the classroom, you can't avoid it and it will eventually, especially if you are confined to a classroom and desk, come creeping, seeping into your bones. Your hands will be cold and can only be warmed by holding a cup of tea. But you can only drink so much tea...
So we complain about the cold. The Zambians complain about the cold, as you would expect. They don't get much fluctuation in temperature throughout the year. But what you wouldn't expect what their reaction to it is. We do get some radiant energy from the sun and my class room has a hint of warmth in it on sunny days. I keep the windows and the door closed despite a stream of kids coming in because my room is a little warm. They never think to close the door, will go to the window and open it just to look outside. Any heat I started with would be gone in a few minutes if I did not countermand this behavior. Well they're just oblivious teens, after all.
But when I go to the teacher's lunch room, what do I find, everyone shivering with the door and window open and a heady breeze blowing through and each complaining about the weather. What is this, I demand (all my cultural sensitive out the window with any hint of heat). If you are cold, why not keep the warmth we have? They look at one another, shrugging their shoulders, and one says, I guess we just like the fresh air. Ah, just another of the unexplained African mysteries.
House 7 report
House 7 is being plastered inside and undergoing such finishing work. It is a new presence on the street of houses in our little village. I have enjoyed the reflected moon light off the new corrugated metal roof these past few evenings on my way home after supper/reading.
You Get July 4th.
Well I got to go to a wedding on the 4th, full report to follow. Then on Monday 6th is a holiday here: Hero's Day (none of my kids could name a hero to be remember on this day). And while we are still in the mood (mode), Tuesday is another holiday: Unity Day. So back to school on Wednesday.
A Equipment for the School
This week, Phillip brought back from Lusaka a beautiful box. This was something very special. It contained the first piece of equipment beyond pen and paper, for the school, a real copy machine. And this was not JUST a copier, but an accessory to our promised computer: a Printer and a Scanner. So when our computer arrives we will almost be working in this century, which ever one this is? Our computer, if it should have internet abilities, will allow us to do those functions demonstrated nicely by Mamie Spillane when she was here, down loading useful teaching tools/aids and we won't need someone to come from the US to do it for us on the busy Chishawasha office systems.
The Wedding
I was invited to a wedding on Saturday afternoon. The schedule of events worked out that I got to have a meal with Phillip and Maria and their 4 month old son, Shebach, in their home. Shebach provides sufficient entertainment that neither parent needed to be there to keep me happy. Good company, good food. Oh, and I saw a little tv, had forgotten what that is like.
The church in which the wedding was being performed had moved to their current location, but have not yet be able to put up a new building. So they are using a large blue and white tent with the internal, up to date appointments you'd find in any church building here: sound system (two lap tops, a PC, five microphones, Beringer mixer with a square yard or so of dials and slides, large paired speakers and monitor [we go for the sound and the Spirit here]), Yamaha keyboard, fancy lectern, stone floor, seats and benches. I know I am suppose to mention the orange roses in perfusion and gold and yellow ribbon, bows and fabric hangings (you can tell don't even know the vocabulary). The brides gown was white and she had a bouquet, there! The weather cooperated so temperatures were comfortable.
As the crowd gathered, I gradually became aware that there was only one muzungu (non-African) present. What made this most obvious was the line of about 6 young children (4 to 6 years old) seated at right angle to me who enjoyed staring. I didn't help things much by smiling at them and imitating their gestures, the most common of which is putting hands up to your face and almost covering up your eyes, but not quite and then turning away.
The service was to start at 2 pm. The groom arrived early. At 2:30, no bride, groom stressed, young children enjoying the silly muzungu. At 2:50 bride arrives, if you didn't know, the car horns and ululations were a good hint. The Bishop who will perform the ceremony (older brother of the groom) comes in and warms up the microphone and attendees. He introduces an unusual number of ministers, perhaps 8 for which special seating was provided, each had a role to play. The numbers were due in part to the fact that the Bishop is a bishop and his father, a minister was the guest of honor. The first sign that were we seriously about getting started, was that an attendant wipes down the lecture, a modern glass and chrome tubing structure.
At 3 pm we are underway with a prayer. The entire service was enjoyable and fun. The wedding party danced in. (oh, I forgot the pre-wedding rehearsals, not what you think). For months before the service the wedding party has been rehearsing weekly up to the last weeks when rehearsals become daily. Why? Because to be in the wedding party means that you must dance like a professional! Your wedding planner is also a choreographer and dance instructor. Back to the wedding ceremony. Well, suffice to say that each minister offered a word of advice and/or a prayer. Nothing too heavy except that the groom should have a vision or goal. If you should marry a man who is going no where, that is just where you will wind up. To me this advice was a little late in coming since they were half way to saying their vows and gone though an unusually long awkward period waiting for anyone to speak up as to why these two should not be married and then again while we waited to see if either of the couple had any reservations about the impending union. Several times it seem to be stated that divorce was not an option.
Must mention that the groom was told to be sensitive to the goals that his wife has, things that she has set to do for herself, before he proposed and she said yes.
I learned during the service and it was hard to miss, that the bride and groom were from different tribes. Thandie is a Tonga and Joshua a Bemba. Many jokes about misunderstood remarks between Tonga and Bemba's because of the similar sounding words with wildly different meanings. The Bishop told of his experience, marrying a woman from another tribe and feeling that he should know that language better, had begun to study it. Showing off to his mother-in-law he used a phrase in relation to her family which he took to mean something like "birds of a feather flock together" however a more literal translation is: those who spend time with folk suffering from diarrhea are apt to suffer from it as well!" When she made it clear what he'd said, he left quickly.
There was the exchange of vows and rings. The new husband was asked to unveil his wife and then demonstrate his affection so he very slowly and meticulously rolled it back off her head and kissed the bride. We were all asked if we had seen that, everyone to a person answered NO, a repeat performance, same question, same answer and another kiss.
Wedding party danced out, and the service was over at 5 pm. Have a feeling it might have gone longer, but the facility was needed for another function.
The reception was some kms and hours away in another church hall. This was fun, much dancing, displaying what months of rehearsals can do to 8 attendants and the couple. Dancing in Africa is not dancing unless a part of it at least is competitive, between the couples, between the males and between the females.
It was at the reception the over abundance of ministers started to overburden the affair from my perspective. It seemed the preaching wasn't preaching unless it was competitive. Of course the oldest minister and guest of honor had the last and the longest words, he finally said Amen and sat down, the MC gets up to wind things up when the Guest of Honor has one more word, one more charge from above which he had neglected earlier. Seems he has a sum of money is mind that should be collected and with many reminders that we would all receive more if we would only give more (when asked) and a couple of large plastic lids where passed to help finance the honeymoon. The old man said he didn't want the couple to call the Bishop in a couple days asking for money to get home. The sum of money was not quite enough, so the lids came round again.
At this point I get the high sign from Phillip and Maria and we were outa there. Only made one really bad gaff. My hand delivered invitation was so nice that I immediately made it a part of my daily log. It seems that I should have surrendered it at the door of the reception, but no one, I guess, was going to stop this old, odd looking, out of place man and hassle him for it. I walked in unscathed.
This is Sam Weeks with an invitation to next Weeks' blog and you can keep it!
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