Visits to the Village

Hi folks. So sorry it has been almost two weeks since I have posted. The past few days I was been preparing for and sitting the foreign trained nurses exam. The exam was yesterday and it is a relief to have it over, but more about that in my next post. Today I want to talk about my visits this past weekend to "the village".

Going to "the village" means leaving the hospital campus and heading out to the more rural areas where people live more traditionally. On Saturday I went with several other people including my Tonga teacher Bina Tiza and her son (Tiza) to visit Bina Tiza's mother who is in her 80s. In Zambian culture, any family member who has a job with a salary is responsible for taking care of others in their family with economic needs.  Bina Tiza is the only remaining child of her mother, her three brothers have all died. Bina Tiza herself is widowed and was severely ill for a few years. She is also still raising her two children.  Her daughter Taonga is in 11th grade. Her son, Tiza is 21. Though he has tested well and is very motivated to attend university, economically it has not been possible. Usually Bina Tiza sends Tiza out with food and such for her mother because she is unable to walk the 3 miles or so to get there. Today we got a ride, so Bina Tiza could go along.

As we arrived at her home, Bina Tiza's mother who is thin, stooped and wears thick glasses started singing in Tonga that her guests had arrived. She was dancing and clapping, it was quite a welcome. We all shook hands with her and were introduced, she is quite blind, so it was hard for her to really see us.  She has a wife of one of her sons living with her to help her cook and keep the house clean. She also greeted us. We went in to the small central room of the house and sat on the very worn out furniture. We talked for a bit, then presented the gifts we had brought. I brought some lemons from my tree, someone else had brought bananas and oranges. Bina Tiza had brought heart medicine, candles and matches, a bar of soap, a bag of charcoal (which her mother was glad about because she has been cold in the mornings and will now be able to warm herself), a papaya and some beans.  We were served bwate, which is a fermented corn drink. The conversation was mostly in Tonga. Some was translated, though, and I became aware of how sharp Dinah's mind is and what a sense of humor she has. Bina Tiza is much like her mother.  After awhile, Tiza took a few of us outside to show us around.

Villages are traditionally family members all living near each other. This village Maliko was named for Bina Tiza's great uncle, the oldest brother of her grandfather. So the people in the nearby houses are all cousins and such. After a bit of time, some of these family members came to the house and joined our conversation. There was the main house, another shed, a cooking hut (with the traditional grass roof) an elevated food storage bin and a letrine. Outside the shed there was also a fire ring and some food drying racks.  The yard was very well swept, a common thing here in Zambia. People keep their yards tidy.

After posing for pictures, we set off for Macha. On the way home in the back of the pick-up truck (covered by a camper shell) Tiza and I had an interesting conversation as we bounced down the bumpy track. We talked about the cost of university here (2-4 thousand USD/year). He would like to study engineering or business or environmental science. He knows quite a bit of history and is very committed to helping his community and country. He was quite the teacher/tour guide for the young college students with us. He told me more of his mother's story, and how his parent's met. His father is actually from Malawi, though the tribe he is from is both in Malawi and Zambia. As Tiza pointed out, the borders are kind of arbitrary. In his father's tribe, the lineage is passed through the father, in his mother's tribe (Tonga) lineage is passed through the mother. So, for example, when the current Chief Macha dies, his successor will most likely be one of his sister's sons, not one of his. I teased Tiza that whereas he now belongs to two tribes, if it was the other way around and his father had been Tonga then he would be tribeless. It doesn't really work that way though. We spoke of imperialism and foreign aid and how history books are written. I told him about some books I thought he might be interested in. His interest is peaked so I am bringing him some books from the MCC library to read and may look for some used books in the US to bring back.

On Sunday I went to Lupata with Esther and John Spurrier for church. I would say it is probably 1 1/2 miles away in the opposite direction of Maliko. It was a nice walk, through the fires and the market up onto a plateau where you could look around and try and figure out which builidings or water tanks or banana groves you could see in the distance. We saw a lot of birds, I wished I'd brought my binoculars. We crossed the Macha river (now completely dry, though women were digging down into the sand to get to clean water). We wandered a bit and got a bit lost, but made it to church at the end of Sunday school.

Apparently Lupata is where a lot of the support staff for the hospital live. The small BIC church has only been independent for about three years. The lay pastor, who is also the head administrator at the hospital, was away this Sunday, but I was impressed with how well the service went. The youth led it, with one presiding, one translating (into English for the few of us who don't speak Tonga) and one who preached. The ushers made sure things ran smoothly, the chairman made all the official announcements and welcomed us guests. The music was fantastic and both the youth and the women's choirs were decked out in matching outfits. The youth in black trousers/skirts and pink shirts, the women in royal blue chitenge suits with red and yellow circles. I wished I had brought my camera. Apparently it was the third attempt at a church plant in this village, but I would say it was done right this time. You could feel the sense of ownership. Esther had not been there in 1 1/2 years and the letrines and kitchen were new structures on the ground that hadn't been there when she last visited.

They had been advised we were coming, so after the service we were told to hang around a bit. They had made us lunch, but since the sermon had been shorter than normal, it wasn't quite ready. The youth had a meeting in the meantime, but when our meal was ready, they went outside to practice. The three of us ate with the chairman, and what a feast it was. We had nshima with village chicken in a wonderful sauce and "vegetables" (what we would call greens in the states). More bwate was served as a drink. Before we ate, one of the women came around to us one by one with a pitcher of water and a basin for us to wash our hands.

After lunch we were told to wait "ashonto" (a little bit). As we waited, our cooks, most in there royal blue choir outfits came and sat on the bench along the wall to talk with us. They had carefully waited outside till we were done eating. This was when I really wanted my camera. They were all there, laughing and smiling and joking with us with their beautiful dresses and headscarves. Eventually a woman showed up with three rugs that they make together once a week (kind of like quilting circles) out of old feed bags that they hook colorful scraps of material through. They picked the best two, made a few snips here and there and then presented one to both Esther and I.  These rugs are great for getting the red Macha dust off your shoes/feet before entering your house. I will keep it new till I get my permanent house. It felt like an early house warming gift.

I really was touched by the genuine warmth and generosity of the people at this small church. I think I will try and make it there at least once a month.