African Winter - part 2

The alarm went off at 7am, and I groaned.  I poked my head out from under the blankets and was greeted by bright sunshine and REALLY cold morning air.  Oh, how I wished my grandmother was in the next room.  I thought of her and all those cold winter mornings when she would get up before everyone else and light the heater in the kitchen.  My older sister and I would run from the bed to the heater and stand in front of it while we dressed for school.  I didn’t have a heater, but I did have a nice hot shower.  I felt great afterward.  Kevin said the temperature had gotten down to 49 degrees the night before.  No wonder my limbs felt frozen!

Jan Jalowiec was going to pick me up so we could drive out to Big Tree Baptist for the ladies bible teaching.  It would be my first opportunity to have some ‘girl time’ with her, and I was looking forward to the drive.  We picked up Justina, our interpreter, in town, and the three of us drove out to the Bush.  We missed the turn off the main road and had to double back, but we eventually got to the church.  It was so cold, and the wind was fierce.  I really missed my hat!  Because we had arrived later than planned, many of the women had gone back to their homes.  It was too cold to sit on the mud pews and just wait for us.  Somehow the word got out that we had arrived (I still don’t know how that happens). I couldn’t help but think about how miserable the night must have been for these dear families.  As cold as I was, I know their experience must have been worse than mine.  I could see all of the family members huddled together in one room, sleeping on reed mats, trying to stay warm.  God bless the mamas and older siblings that got up before dawn to light the cooking fire and keep it stoked.  The wind had not been a friend that cold day in July, and it’s a wonder anyone got any breakfast. 

Jan helping the kids

The ladies arrived, many of them with their babies and children in tow.  The wind refused to die down, and the group tried to huddle close together to trap as much body heat in the church structure as possible.   I had a full study session planned, and I was thankful that Justina, Doreen and Jan were there to help me.  After I shared my testimony, we did the story bracelet craft, and the children wanted to participate, as well. Jan was so gracious.  She gathered all the children around her and helped them to string the beads.  She said later that it felt like being in her homeschool co-op in the States.  I loved listening to Justina guide the women through the bible verses represented by each bead in the bracelet.  Even more wonderful was listening to them tell “the story” back to her.  I prayed the women would use the bracelet as a simple evangelistic tool. 

Once the crafting was complete, Doreen gathered the women together for a time of singing.  Last November I started writing music and lyrics for a full length cd called The Sounds of Sisterhood, which is scheduled for distribution in the spring of 2014.  I had always envisioned having the Zambian women’s voices incorporated into at least one of the selections, and today was my only opportunity to get a good recording.  I even knew what song I wanted them to sing.  It’s called “There’s no one like Jesus.”  I had learned it from the Zambian nationals in 2008 during my first missions trip.  Doreen explained the project to the ladies, and they seemed excited about the prospect of having their voices recorded for a music cd.  I was excited, too.  My dream was becoming a reality.  The only problem was the wind.  The women gathered in a circle to try to create a human windbreak, but it could still be heard plainly, intermingled with their voices.  I’ve yet to figure out how to blend the sound of live, mighty, rushing, wind with the vocals, but perhaps my sound technician can work his magic and create an unusual AND beautiful blend of the two. 
 

Me at the hand pump. This was SO hard!

Doreen and I walked around the area surrounding the church, and I snapped quite a few photos. She and I walked to the village fresh water well.  I took my turn at pumping the hand crank.  Someone had left their bucket under the spout, and I attempted to fill it.  My goodness!  It was really hard work. I was embarrassed because even the smallest child could pump the water without tiring.  I was beginning to break into a sweat and hadn’t even filled my bucket half way.   Doreen encouraged me to keep pumping.  Jan took my picture, and I was relieved when it was finally full.  We drove up to the clinic after the ‘photo op’ at the well.  Doreen, Justina, Jan and I were hoping to see the well drilling rig that was supposed to arrive from the capital city of Lusaka, some six hours away.  This was the day when fresh water would finally arrive at the clinic.  Before Wednesday, July 31, 2013, patients at the clinic had to walk a mile and a half to draw water, then walk that same distance back to the clinic with the full water container on top of their heads.  A well had been drilled that was closer to the clinic, but village hooligans had taken control of it and were restricting access to local residents.  I was so pleased that not many days hence Mable Phiri was going to have access to the water right on the clinic compound.  Once the initial hole had been drilled, a steel casing would be inserted into the crevice to protect the hole from collapse.  Afterward, solar panels, a submersible pump, and tank stand would also be installed.

The Rig finally arrives

 

Everyone watching the drilling

As we waited for the rig to arrive, Doreen told me that the villagers were so excited.  They never thought they would ever see the day come when fresh water would be available at the clinic. This particular well would be solar powered and would also be constructed with two storage tanks, each with the capacity to hold more than 1300 gallons of water.  Praise the Lord!  Mable would have the water she needed to treat her patients right at her fingertips.  Kevin and Dan joined us at the clinic, and we waited with them for a few more minutes.  They were going to oversee the project, yet the rig had been delayed.  I was really disappointed at not being able to see the actual drilling take place, but just knowing that the process of digging the well would begin while I was in Chipata was enough consolation.  The Lord had moved in the hearts of so many people back in the States to support this initiative with their prayers and finances.  My whole body just overflowed with gratitude when I thought about how the collaboration of generous hearts (and wallets) was going to impact an entire village.  Whew!  As we were driving back to town that afternoon, a huge, red, truck-like vehicle drove past us, heading toward the clinic.  Jan said it was the drilling rig.  I could have broken out in song!  It seemed so odd to see such a sophisticated piece of machinery traveling down a dusty, unpaved, bush road, but it was the most beautiful sight I'd laid eyes on the whole day.  

The drilling begins. Nothing but dirt, yet.  Dig deeper...

Water.  Precious water. Finally!  Thank you, God! ☺

next time: Elephants, giraffes, and hippos - Good grief! 

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