Day Three - The Story Bracelet

The week before my departure from the States, Kevin Pestke and I exchanged emails about the specifics of the trip, which included instructions about what to pack, weather conditions, and a tentative day-to-day itinerary.  Because Zambia and Malawi are in the southern hemisphere, the climate is opposite that of the United States.  Kevin told me to pack warm clothes because it was the middle of winter and the temperature was dropping into the 40s and 50s at night.  That sounded like a welcome change of pace since July weather in my hometown of Jacksonville, Florida is characteristic of sweltering heat and skin-hugging humidity.  As I exited the aircraft at Lilongwe International Airport in Malawi, I was greeted with warm sunshine and dry air.  It felt like springtime in Florida even though most of the landscape was variegated shades of brown.  The vegetation was hibernating for winter, and very few blossoms were in sight.  

The Pestkes

The Jaloweics

My goodness, it felt great to stretch to my legs!  I was going to be met at the airport by Kevin, and from there it was only a 2 hour drive to Chipata.  I couldn’t wait to see a familiar, friendly face!  As I waited for my luggage to appear on the baggage carousel, I thought about Kimberly and prayed that she was able to get a flight out of Chicago.  After passing through a final security check point with my suitcases in my possession, I stood in the airport waiting area and scanned the crowd for Kevin’s familiar face.  My phone was dead, and I hadn’t thought to bring any outlet adaptors so that I could charge it.   However, a kind stranger allowed me to use her iPhone adaptor, and I plugged in my phone at one of the airport charging stations. I continued to look through the crowd as I muttered under my breath, “Kevin, I’m here.  I hope you can find me.”  It was then that I noticed Dan Jaloweic walking toward me.  Dan and his family were also serving as missionaries in Chipata alongside the Pestkes.  Dan and I had never actually had a face to face conversation.  Until that point, we were Facebook friends only, but I greeted him like he was my long, lost brother!  Poor guy!  Dan took my bags and escorted me outside.  Kevin and Dan’s son, Levi, were waiting in the parking lot. It had been five years since I’d served in Zambia with Kevin, and I was so delighted to see my friend and co-laborer once again.  I am so thankful for Facebook, which allows people to be connected even though they are thousands of miles away, but I was excited to finally meet Kevin’s wife, Savannah and their two daughters.  We got my luggage stored in the back of the vehicle and were on our way.  Finally, I could breathe easy, sit back and enjoy the ride to Chipata.

I asked Kevin if he had a phone charger in the vehicle because I wanted to let Harden know that I’d arrived safely.  He and I only spoke for a few moments because international, roaming charges are exorbitant, but it was wonderful to hear his voice.   I had also received a text message from Kimberly:

July 26^th 7:14am    “Have you safely landed and been picked up?

 Me:  Yes, Kevin has me.  We’re driving to his house.  Are you coming?

 Kimberly:  Doesn’t look like it I’m so sorry to say.  The travel agency is not good to work with.  They blame United and me, but it is proven to be their error.  I’m hoping to at least get the church’s money back.  We are all praying for you.  God wanted you there by yourself, I guess.  I can’t wait to hear and see the results!  Love you 

Me:  Ok.  I’m just speechless and sad.  I miss you and wish you were here.  Love you, too 

We were all silent for a few moments in the van as I shared the news.  I needed to process the reality that she wasn’t coming, after all.  My heart felt very heavy.  In my mind I prayed that God would comfort Kimberly through her disappointment.  I prayed that somehow I would still be able to be a blessing and minister to the Pestkes and the people of Chipata.  I didn’t know how I would do that, but I was more than willing (and ready) to leave those details to the Lord to work out.  We arrived at Kevin’s home, and I got settled in.  How wonderful it was to meet Savannah - a kindred spirit who was also born in Mississippi, as I was, in the full throws of motherhood (her daughters are three and one year old).  At dinner that night I met the rest of the Jaloweic family (wife Jan and children, Savannah and Micah).  We reviewed the itinerary for the week, and I was delighted that Kevin had it jam-packed with ministry opportunities. 

The next morning I was scheduled to teach a ladies bible study to a group of women at Chinjala Baptist Church, located in the bush.  Kevin had been meeting every Saturday for about a year with a faithful group of women who were hungry to learn more about the Lord of the bible.  I was honored that he would entrust me with this time, and I couldn’t wait to share God’s truth with them.  Savannah and I, along with her daughters Analiese and Gabriella, traveled separately to Chinjala, while Kevin took his own vehicle and picked up bible study attendees.  As we drove, I peppered Savannah with question after question about life in Chipata.  We talked and laughed the whole 45 minute drive; it was such a sweet time of fellowship.  She explained to me the differences between ‘town’ (where she and Kevin live), the ‘village’ (a few miles off the main town roads), and the ‘bush’ (where the roads are only as wide as a bicyle path and have to be maneuvered with dexterity and common sense).  Chinjala Baptist is definitely a bush church!  At one point in the drive I found myself bracing my hands against the dashboard in an attempt to ‘hold the 4 wheel drive together.’  The SUV was shaking so badly as Savannah traversed her way over, around and, at times, through pot holes, I thought the vehicle would fall apart before we got to church.  Kevin, however, seemed to glide across the roads in his Toyota 4-wheel drive truck, stopping long enough for bible study participants to climb on board before heading to the next stop (bus ministry – bush style). 

A bush 'potty'

Chinjala Baptist Church

Once we arrived, I was greeted warmly by the women who had been riding in the back and bed of Kevin’s truck.  Those in the truck bed shook the copper colored dust so characteristic of Chipata off of their clothing and shook my hand.  “Muli bwanji,” I said, in greeting.   It means ‘how are you?’  This was the only native phrase that I knew; Levi had taught it to me during the drive from Lilongwe to Chipata.  I was introduced to my interpreter named Justina Kayela.  What an incredible God-send she was.  Justina spoke English fluently, and her interpretive skills were excellent.   While we waited for the rest of the women to gather, I tried to ‘take in’ as much of my surroundings as possible.  Chinjala Baptist Church doesn’t have a church sign identifying it as such. There isn’t a steeple on the building and there are no walls.  There is no indoor plumbing, nor is there electricity.  The building frame is constructed with poles and the roof is made of thatch.  The pews are made and shaped from mud that has hardened over time. The dirt is swept to make the main doorway to the thatched roof structure look nicer, and a long, forked pole is kept at the entrance of the church to keep the goats away.   What a wonderful house of worship! 

 

Justina, me, Doreen Zulu & Savannah

The service began with prayer and distinctive, African a-capella singing.  Kevin had given me my own copy of their hymnbook written in the Chichewa language (pronounced chi-chay-wa), so I was able to sing along.  I recognized a couple of the hymn melodies, but most of the time I was just making a joyful noise.  I prayed I was pronouncing the words correctly – only God knows what phrases were actually coming out of my mouth!  After the singing, Kevin made the introductions, I sang a quick hymn (which I

Bible teaching time

found VERY difficult to do because the air is so dry), and then we started our bible study time.  I shared my testimony of how I had come to genuine faith in Christ, and we spent the remainder of the time encouraging each other through scripture.  Our focus was the story of redemption.  It was a simple message of God’s sovereignty, his holiness, and unconditional love for mankind.  I used an easy craft that my daughters and I created called a story bracelet to get the ladies involved

in the lesson and seal the truth of God’s love in their

A finished story bracelet

hearts.  A story bracelet is a little like a ‘wordless book.’  The gospel story is told using different color beads that represent a specific aspect of the story.  What I love especially about this bracelet is the fact that God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are represented throughout the story.    The women and I constructed the bracelets as I talked through the gospel story with them.  Justina did a FABULOUS job interpreting.  She even made sure the women could articulate each point of the story using the beads by having them repeat the story over and over again, in unison.  It was a delight to my heart to hear them tell of God’s love for them.   They were speaking ‘chewa’ but somehow I was hearing them in English – with Justina’s help, of course.  After the bracelets were constructed, I challenged the women to use them as a witnessing tool once they got back to their villages.  Kevin helped emphasize the point to them that just like a broom or a hoe has a specific purpose, so the story bracelet had a purpose.  If a broom or hoe isn’t used for the purpose it was created, it becomes a useless tool.  The same principle applied to the story bracelet.  I couldn’t wait to meet with the ladies the next week and hear them testify of how God had used them to share his love and truth with people in their villages. 

Nshima, tomato gravy, okra, & chicken

19 year old, Misozi, cooking nshima

After bible study, I had my first authentic, bush-style lunch with nshima and all the trimmings.  The nshima is a softer, more bland version of grits that is also made from cornmeal.  It is the staple of the diet and is used as a dipping agent for any gravy or sauce that might be served with the meal.  I watched as the nshima  was being cooked over an open fire and seemed to take on a life of its own in the pot - growing thicker and thicker as it was stirred.  All the food is eaten with the hands (no utensils or napkins are provided), and I marveled at how the women could take the piping hot nshima and roll in around in their hands before dipping it.  I just couldn’t do it!  I had to take tiny pieces with my fingers and eat all the components together.  I found out later that you’re supposed to hold your plate in one hand and use the other hand to eat the food.  Not only was I a ‘two-handed mzungu’ (mzungu means foreigner), I also licked my fingers after the meal.  All we good southerners do that, right?  Apparently not.  I can only hope my hostesses knew how much I thoroughly enjoyed the lunch even though my eating technique lacked proper manners!

During the drive home with Analiese and Gabriella sleeping soundly through the entire bumpy ride, Savannah asked me what I enjoyed most about the day.  I told her it was watching the women ‘get the message’ of the story bracelet and get excited about sharing God’s truth with others.  Truly the love of God transcends language and cultural barriers.  The gospel has the power to knit together the hearts of people who’ve only just met, yet feel as if they are part of an extended family where each member is loved and cherished.  That was my first experience in the bush, and I was even more excited about the days ahead. 

Tomorrow:  The Sweet Sound of Literacy