We Trimmed the Tree

The kids got to decorate their mini Christmas tree a couple days ago. With all we had going on I didn't get to organize as many activities as I'd like. Next year I'm hoping to do a Jesse Tree with the kids.

Go here to the Kazembe Orphanage Facebook page for pictures of the happy event. Also, you might consider 'liking' this page while you're at it. Thanks!

An Adventure While Traveling

Below you can see a map of Zambia. We are right there at the helpful 'Home' button. The country bordering us on our west is the DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo) formerly known as Zaire. Also known as one of the countries that has been having a lot of trouble with civil war and violence among the tribes.

Thankfully, the majority of the trouble is in the north of the DRC so it really doesn't spill down to our border and there is a huge river separating us so we're pretty safe.

Most people just refer to the DRC as 'the Congo' although this isn't really accurate since there is a country called Congo north of the DRC.

When the powers that be drew the modern borders they left this little squiggly piece jutting into Zambia. Zambia now looks a bit like a kidney. Ordinarily this wouldn't be a problem--countries are free to look like any bean or organ they choose. But, when we wanted to make a trip around Zambia it became a problem. If you look at the picture below you will see the route we have to take if we want to visit our former stomping ground of Ndola or even the capital city Lusaka (which I covered up with my helpful arrows but is now the red dot).

We now had to take the long way around using that red path (for Ndola) or the red and then blue route for Lusaka. And yet, there was a nice little short cut just mocking us. See that purple line? That is the handy dandy shortcut which takes you right through the DRC.

We were nervous to use this shortcut because we had heard bad things about corruption and danger at the borders. Also, anyone with a foreign passport (not Zambian) would have to get a visa for the short trip passing through the DRC. It just didn't seem worth it to us. But then we found out that as holders of a work permit, we qualified to get a Zambian ID card--an ARC (Alien Registration Card). You know that is a great card for my geeky husband to carry.

Once Tom and I got this card we were eager to try out the new route. The only problem was our kids are too young for Zambian IDs and so still had to carry their passports. We got a letter from the Karate Club and Immigration Department asking the Congolese government to grant them free passage through their country. Armed with all our documents we set out one fine Friday morning.

The road from Mansa to the border was not too bad. It was raining a bit but that just cooled things down. Then we got to the border and all went well on the Zambian side. Tom had to go to three different offices but within a few minutes we were on our way. I didn't take any pictures of the offices at any of the border stops. I did not want to have a repeat of the trouble I got into earlier this year.

There used to be a pontoon here. The wait could be hours long. 

Since there is a bridge here the border crossing is much smoother.

Then we got to the Congo border. Tom and I pulled out our Zambian registration cards and there was no problem but then the officer asked to see the kids' passports and once I pulled those out we had trouble. Immediately he insisted that we pay the full visa cost for each of them. $50!! I explained that they were our children and we had reg cards. No go. Then we showed the letter  from the Karate association and still he refused. In the DRC they speak mostly French and then tribal languages. This close to the border they speak Bemba just like Zambia. The officer we were dealing with spoke only French. He called in a translator who spoke French and Bemba but no English. A girl who was traveling with us for the tournament translated the Bemba into English. 

Every time we said anything it had to go from Cassandra to the Bemba officer to the French officer and then back the same way. It was kinda funny. Because of my background in Spanish I understood some of the French, especially when he kept asking incredulously, "Gratis? Gratis?" He could not believe we would ask for free passage. 

Finally we convinced the immigration officer that the kids had the same Zambian visa we did and he agreed. Then we found out that the immigration people here in Zambia had stamped Timmy's passport with the wrong stamp. It won't cause him any trouble here but it looked like he was a tourist. We ended up having to get a $50 visa for Timmy. It was really a way for the officer to save face and it still saved us money so we were happy.

The road going through the Congo was not good at all. Perhaps during dry season it would be OK but during rainy season it was pretty treacherous.

There were huge potholes and it was hard to see how bad they were when they were filled up with water. 

After trying to pass a slow-moving truck we ended up mired in the mud. Tom quickly switched our tires to four wheel drive and the kids got out to help push. 

Where was I? Well, someone had to take the pictures and document the event for posterity! Plus, it was really, really muddy....

The kids didn't need my help. Look at all that Shotokhan power!

We eventually made it to the Zambian border again. The road through the Congo was only 70 km. (@45 miles) but it seemed way longer. 

The road from the border to Ndola was horrible as well. It was tarred but had awful, spine-shattering potholes. I'm pretty sure we all shrunk a couple inches from the compression on our spines. and I did not need that at all!

The entire time we were driving down this stretch all Tom could think about was how he was going to have to turn around and drive over it again twice the next day as the tournament was going to be held in the town right at the border.

The bright side of the day came when we reached Ndola. You may think I'm crazy but I actually felt my spirit lifting and it wasn't just because we were off the terrible roads. Ndola will always have a special place in my heart because of the many friends who live there.

The second bright spot came about 30 minutes after we reached Ndola. We got a phone call from the Karate Sensei who informed us that the venue for the tournament had changed. We now only had to drive 45 minutes away on a smooth road. What a relief. 

God is so good to keep us safe despite our many adventures, isn't He? Just wait till you hear how he kept us safe today. That is a story for another day.

Exactly One Year Ago: Janet

My Girl Can Kick Your Tail

I'm posting this a bit out of order because our trip through the DRC photos are being held hostage on Tom's computer. He is under the weather today and I hate to bother him about pictures for this 'lil ol' blog. Please do forgive the quality of the pictures in this post. The lighting in the huge room was horrendous.

Last Saturday our kids attended their first every Karate Tournament. We had no idea what to expect but it turned out to be a really enjoyable day.

 Don't be fooled by their solemn faces. They were actually very excited.--But nervous too.

The kids have been studying Shotokhan for about eight months. This was the first tournament they could take part in because they are usually held in the Copperbelt--a good seven to eight hours away over dicey roads as you'll see tomorrow.

The first item on the agenda was for the three kids to grade for their new belts. They had to go through a series of movements called a kata. To move from yellow belt to orange they had to perform a kata called Heian Nidan. 

Then they  had to spar with each other--carefully measuring the distance so they could show their knowledge of blocks and hits without actually hitting each other. 

Normally when the kids do their Shotokhan training Tom and I are running around getting shopping and errands done. Even when they train at home I'm usually off on my walk so it was a treat to see what they can do.

The kids did very well in their belt grading and passed to the next level. Tom and I were very proud.

After this, the kids' Sensei came to fill us in on the program for the day. He informed us that Jasmine and 3 other kids would be representing the Mansa Club in the competition. This meant that Timmy and Troy would not be taking part. They were very disappointed as you can imagine.

Troy is not advertising for a bottled water company but rather trying to put a brave face on over his disappointment at not being able to compete.

Timmy really enjoyed watching the other competitors perform kumite which is the fighting part of the tournament. His Sensei promised that next tournament Timmy will be able to compete in the Junior Kumite. This should be interesting since he is six feet tall and most of the Juniors are much shorter. 

Their were some very tall black belt competitors and as I watched the fights I got very nervous about the future because there were no mats on the floor and no protection if a competitor was flipped. Yikes! I have no idea how I'll be able to watch my kids fight other people as they get higher in the belt category.

Jasmine did very well her in Kata. Because few girls take part in karate in this country she only had to compete against one other girl. This girl was a higher belt rank than Jasmine but Jasmine still beat her taking the top Ladies' spot for Kata in the competition.

Now that the kids have gotten a taste for competition they are eagerly counting down the days until the next tournament. 

Exactly One Year Ago: Super Story part two  (Super Story pt.1 found here)

It's Been a Long Week!!

I expected to be back home on Thursday but life intervened. 

I'll be writing in detail bout many of our adventures but in the meantime here is  recap of our week.

Thursday (last week): Shopping in Mansa. Just the usual adventure.

Friday: We drove to the Copperbelt ( province in Zambia) traveling through the DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo) to get there as it's a shortcut. This is something we'd never tried before because it can be a bit scary and challenging. You'll have to read the story.

Saturday: Shotokhan (karate) Tournament. Good news for all three kids and a win for one. Full details coming soon.

Sunday: Church! Church! Church! Oh, so delightful! We also got to attend a Missionary Fellowship. A most excellent day!

Monday: Adventures with our monkey. Big story! Big adventures. You won't be disappointed.

Tuesday: So many changes in the capital city. I'm not sure how I feel about them. I'll tell you more about that later.

Wednesday: Mad rushing to finish business and avoid stress. No need to write about this day.....

Thursday: We began the journey home. This time we'd be taking the long way around. The stopping point on our trip was pure delight. 

Friday: We made it to Mansa so we could shop for the week and then finally got home. What a week!

I have hundreds of photos to download from my computer. This is going to be a fun day! On a tiny side note: my 'a' stopped working on my keyboard. Take a look back through the above post. See all those a's. All hand pasted with love!

The Happenings

Just a heads up that Tom, the kids and I will be traveling over the next week. I don't know how much I'll be able to pop in here. I'd love to have left you with a bunch of pre-scheduled posts but life has thrown me a couple curve balls this week and I'm busy playing catch up. 

The main reason we're traveling is so our kids can take part in a Shotokhan tournament on Saturday. They are very excited about it. While we're down in the Copperbelt (a province of Zambia) we're going to be visiting with friends we've missed terribly since moving up here in the bush.

I'll be back around to see all of you just as soon as I possibly can.

Not My Finest Hour

Last week we did our regular shopping expedition which, in case you've forgotten, involves driving two hours away, running around to several different stores and offices and then heading home.

The first (and last on the way home) hour of the trip is the worst. The road is covered with potholes and in many places there is no way to go around the holes other than going off-road. It is a bumpy ride to say the least. Usually I sit in front next to Tom and the kids ride in the back on the benches that run along the length of the vehicle. 

This past week I had been up most of the night taking care of Sara and so I decided to get a bit of a nap during the drive. I brought a pillow and stretched out on the bench--oh so grateful for the horizontal position of my body. My joy quickly faded though as we hit the first potholes. I bounced around that cab like nobody's business. I looked over at Jasmine and asked how on earth I was supposed to sleep without getting thrown off my bench. She told me that I needed to hold onto something and that I would instinctively grip harder in my sleep. 

I don't know if that would work or not. I didn't really try it. After an hour of driving we reached the smooth part of the road and I heaved a sigh of relief and settled in to sleep. The only thing I had forgotten was that about 15 minutes before our destination there are two huge potholes. I was deep in sleep when Tom swerved to avoid them. I woke up as my body flipped over and landed on the floor of the cruiser--my feet got tangled in some drink crates and my head hit our ice cooler. 

Tom and the kids were wholly unsympathetic I tell you. Tom looked back and said, "Oh, it's time to wake up anyway". and Jasmine said, "Were you holding on?" No respect, people, no respect!

A short time later we were dropped off at the grocery store since Tom had to put the car in for an oil change. The kids and I jumped into a taxi and quickly visited the local Peace Corps house. We were only there for ten minutes or so and then the same taxi dropped us back off at the grocery store.

My routine in the store is always the same--I start with the vegetables and fruits and then move on through the aisles. As I was looking over the selection of vegetables a man came over with his buddy and said hello. Immediately I was wary and looked to make sure my purse was secure in the cart next to me. It was fine and I kept on shopping. 

A few minutes later I was at the juice aisle and decided to call Tom to see if he wanted ginger beer (don't worry--it's non-alcoholic) or tonic water. Only problem--no phone. I searched through my purse over and over again. I pulled everything out but still, no phone. 

I pulled my son over (he was getting ready to leave for karate class) and asked him to call my phone. He did and it rang and rang with no answer. My first idea was that I had perhaps left it in the taxi. Our grocery helper guy (I'll tell you about him another day) ran outside but couldn't find the taxi. I borrowed my daughter's phone and continued to dial my phone over and over again, hoping against hope the taxi driver or a passenger would find it and return it.

My concern though was about those two men who had greeted me by the veggies. What if one of them had quickly snatched my phone?

My stomach was sick by this time. All those numbers gone. All the saved messages gone. My precious phone gone. 

I continued shopping. What else could I do? About halfway through my shopping list, the taxi driver showed up and said he heard I was looking for my phone. (Gotta love Zambia and its gossip grapevine!) He insisted it was not in his car but I sent my shopping helper guy out to look anyway. They came back with nothing. I had been dialing my phone the whole time but they didn't hear it. 

I wasn't convinced. Maybe my phone had fallen down inside the seat. My ring isn't very loud--it's more like soft piano music. Maybe they hadn't recognized the sound as a phone ringing. 

That was it! I would go look myself. Getting ready to leave the store and continue the search, I picked up my purse, and.....

there was my phone! It had been under my purse the entire time! Boy, was I embarrassed!

And that, my friends, is why I don't deserve respect. I'm a mess!

Of course I totally blamed the head injury from earlier on my absentmindedness. But that wouldn't explain this time. Ah, me!

Exactly One Year Ago: Nature Abhors a Vacuum

It's World AIDS Day.

Before moving to Africa HIV/AIDS was a disease I knew of academically but that was it. I'd never met anyone who suffered with this disease and aside from a few celebrities who had passed away from AIDS or who were living with HIV and the occasional article I would read, it was largely a 3rd world problem in my mind--a widow and orphan creating disease. 

Now that I've lived in Africa for nearly nine years I have come up close and personal to this pandemic. It is a brutal and devastating disease. It isn't even so much that it is a deadly disease with no cure but the psychological effect of HIV/AIDS is the worst part. 

There is still so much stigma attached to an HIV diagnosis. I think a big part of this is the prevention campaigns. As well-intentioned as they are, when all the posters say, "Stay Faithful and You'll be Safe", then the flip side is: If you're infected you were Unfaithful! This causes people to stay away from testing. They don't want their neighbors to perceive them as a philanderer.--Even if they are and everyone knows it, the HIV positive result means there is no room for doubt. 

In Africa, sadly, most HIV is passed through heterosexual relations. This means that if a woman tests positive her integrity is called into question even if she was the faithful one and her cheating husband is the one who infected her. As long as he is not tested she is the one everyone points fingers at. 

Getting people to the testing center for VCT (Voluntary Counseling and Testing) is only the first step. After that, a person living in Africa with HIV has a long, hard road ahead of them. 

First they have to summon the courage to get on a program where they receive the medicine that they need. This can mean having to go to the clinic in full view of the village where everyone knows that those with HIV visit the clinic on a certain day.

Next, they have to be diligent to take their medicine at exactly the same time every day. In a culture where things go by the flow and time is fluid, this can be a real challenge. But, it is so incredibly important. Their life hangs in the balance.

Finally, they have to eat better and do more to stay healthy. The African diet in the villages is not well-rounded or extra nutritious. Those with HIV need more protein and vegetables in order to keep their immune systems up. African diets tend to be more starch-heavy because people focus on the energy foods--those with greater immediate benefits.

This is the reality of HIV/AIDS in Africa. It has come a long ,long way from when we first got here. People are going for testing now. Medicine is available. And the information is out there. When I met with my staff yesterday for our regular meeting, I took advantage of my captive audience and discussed HIV with them. And, amazingly, they all knew the right answers--to nearly every fact or question I threw out there. There were a couple things they got wrong but they were minor--they knew the important stuff. But, at least three or four of them are stubbornly refusing to get tested. I could tell that some of the others know their status but are not following the best treatment plan because of the difficulties in confidentiality in a village setting.

The crazy thing is that the fear of HIV permeates people's lives. They all know it exists, they have the information, the see the posters everywhere and they fear it. Those that haven't gone for testing worry constantly about possibly having it. So, even if they are not infected it affects their life. I feel like shouting from the rooftops: The truth will set you free! 

When we lose a sweet employee who dies because she refuses to damage her reputation and get tested for HIV or when we see another valued employee fail to get the necessary treatment 'because she doesn't want anyone to see her entering the clinic, or when a baby is denied the right to medicine because her parents are afraid to know their status it breaks our heart.

How can you help? Pray for those working in communities with high HIV rates. Pray that strong, Christian examples can come forward to show what living a positive (HIV infected) life looks like. When we can move HIV out of the shadows and into the light where it is just a disease that we have to prevent and treat and not a social stigma then we will finally make real progress in helping people stay healthy.

Exactly One Year Ago: No One Told Me  (get to know my teenagers)