Sunday Morning
Greetings friends. It is a beautiful Sunday morning here is Lusaka. A great day of rest and reflection. We are having church, "Upper Room Lusaka", here in little while. Sundays have been our most challenging day of the week - I think it is when we are most aware of the fact that we are a long way from home. It is slowly changing, but know that on this day, more than most, we are loving and missing you.
I wish all of you could have been with me yesterday. I went for a long run that would have provided all of you the perfect synopsis of Africa right now...I drove 5 minutes from our house and parked my truck where the pavement ended and the dirt road began. I had a general sense of where I wanted to go, but it was more of an "exploring" kind of run that I love. Every few minutes I would pass ladies walking down the dusty road side with water containers on their heads - each one would smile and say "Mulishani" - Hello. Soon I came upon a large graveyard (a large unkept field) that was filled with tombstones and mourners wailing for and burying the dead. Even for me, well accustomed through my work to the suffering and statistics surrounding AIDS in Africa, the reality of seeing so many funerals at once stopped me in my tracks. Each one of those bodies being laid to rest, was someone's mother/father/sister/brother/daughter/son/ friend. It is easy, in the face of a pandemic, to see these deaths as a statistics, somehow less than human. Standing at the edge of this ragged field I was reminded of the truth that all of these people died one at a time and left a ripple of grief and sorrow behind them. As Molly said to me the other day after being stuck in a funeral procession (as she is everyday on the way to pick up the kids) Death is a way of life here.
I kept running and the road turned to more of a path as I skirted the edge of a compound (poor area where thousands of of people live in close cramped conditions). As I dropped down a hillside I came upon the perfect contrast to the funerals. A Soccer (o.k., Football) Game being played by more than 50 screaming, smiling kids. LIFE. As they saw me running towards them they all cried out in unison "MUZUNGU!" (White guy.) As I jogged into their midst I had the distinct impression that it was not every day a white guy came jogging down the hill into the middle of their soccer game. Smiles, high fives, an invitation to play the "beautiful game" as they say. For a few minutes it was the U.S.A. (me) vs. Zambia but then they finally realized I needed some help and they gave me a few skilled team mates. I played for 10 minutes (or about my limit for anaerobic activity) and was struck by the fact that these kids are the future. They don't currently have AIDS and I prayed as I jogged away that they never would, the tide has to turn at some point.
After the Soccer game (now I am really tired) I ran through a more populated area that was in the midst of a Saturday Market . Chickens, goats, produce, shoes, charcoal etc. etc. all for sale - Not exactly Lunds or Byerly's. Everyone smiling at the sight of a running white guy. Then back to a main road, bikes, walkers along the roadside and finally back to the truck. The heights and depths of Africa in just under an hour.
As a family we are doing well. Closer than ever in many ways as we have had to depend on one another in new ways. The kids are enjoying school, meeting some neat kids, have great teachers etc. Molly is loving the time and space in her days and is wading into finding ways to help here. She has volunteered, along with Katie, a few times at Mother Theresa's hospice and orphanage (she will write about this at some point) and is helping out at a friends school in one of the compounds (200 kids, 2 teachers.) The kids are swimming three days a week after school (we are heading into the hot season here) and taking riding lessons.
My work is going very well. I love the team I am working with and what we are trying to accomplish in the face of AIDS and poverty. We have more than 4,000 volunteer caregivers across Zambia who each week are visiting and caring for tens of thousands of orphans and people living with AIDS. These volunteers are becoming my heroes as they provide love, care and the practical things these people need to survive. On Friday Clara and I are loading up a truck with Caregiver Kits and driving seven hours to eastern Zambia to deliver these to volunteers and to meet a U.S. film crew who is documenting a day in the life of a Caregiver to tell the story of these amazing volunteers back in the U.S. (Churches and service groups across the U.S. are working to try to put together more than 100,000 Caregiver kits by Dec. 1. - Learn how you can participate in this worthwhile effort.)
We continue to believe that we are here with you in spirit. Your prayers sustain us probably in more ways than we can count. Know that you are loved today from the heart of Africa.
Peace.
I wish all of you could have been with me yesterday. I went for a long run that would have provided all of you the perfect synopsis of Africa right now...I drove 5 minutes from our house and parked my truck where the pavement ended and the dirt road began. I had a general sense of where I wanted to go, but it was more of an "exploring" kind of run that I love. Every few minutes I would pass ladies walking down the dusty road side with water containers on their heads - each one would smile and say "Mulishani" - Hello. Soon I came upon a large graveyard (a large unkept field) that was filled with tombstones and mourners wailing for and burying the dead. Even for me, well accustomed through my work to the suffering and statistics surrounding AIDS in Africa, the reality of seeing so many funerals at once stopped me in my tracks. Each one of those bodies being laid to rest, was someone's mother/father/sister/brother/daughter/son/ friend. It is easy, in the face of a pandemic, to see these deaths as a statistics, somehow less than human. Standing at the edge of this ragged field I was reminded of the truth that all of these people died one at a time and left a ripple of grief and sorrow behind them. As Molly said to me the other day after being stuck in a funeral procession (as she is everyday on the way to pick up the kids) Death is a way of life here.
I kept running and the road turned to more of a path as I skirted the edge of a compound (poor area where thousands of of people live in close cramped conditions). As I dropped down a hillside I came upon the perfect contrast to the funerals. A Soccer (o.k., Football) Game being played by more than 50 screaming, smiling kids. LIFE. As they saw me running towards them they all cried out in unison "MUZUNGU!" (White guy.) As I jogged into their midst I had the distinct impression that it was not every day a white guy came jogging down the hill into the middle of their soccer game. Smiles, high fives, an invitation to play the "beautiful game" as they say. For a few minutes it was the U.S.A. (me) vs. Zambia but then they finally realized I needed some help and they gave me a few skilled team mates. I played for 10 minutes (or about my limit for anaerobic activity) and was struck by the fact that these kids are the future. They don't currently have AIDS and I prayed as I jogged away that they never would, the tide has to turn at some point.
After the Soccer game (now I am really tired) I ran through a more populated area that was in the midst of a Saturday Market . Chickens, goats, produce, shoes, charcoal etc. etc. all for sale - Not exactly Lunds or Byerly's. Everyone smiling at the sight of a running white guy. Then back to a main road, bikes, walkers along the roadside and finally back to the truck. The heights and depths of Africa in just under an hour.
As a family we are doing well. Closer than ever in many ways as we have had to depend on one another in new ways. The kids are enjoying school, meeting some neat kids, have great teachers etc. Molly is loving the time and space in her days and is wading into finding ways to help here. She has volunteered, along with Katie, a few times at Mother Theresa's hospice and orphanage (she will write about this at some point) and is helping out at a friends school in one of the compounds (200 kids, 2 teachers.) The kids are swimming three days a week after school (we are heading into the hot season here) and taking riding lessons.
My work is going very well. I love the team I am working with and what we are trying to accomplish in the face of AIDS and poverty. We have more than 4,000 volunteer caregivers across Zambia who each week are visiting and caring for tens of thousands of orphans and people living with AIDS. These volunteers are becoming my heroes as they provide love, care and the practical things these people need to survive. On Friday Clara and I are loading up a truck with Caregiver Kits and driving seven hours to eastern Zambia to deliver these to volunteers and to meet a U.S. film crew who is documenting a day in the life of a Caregiver to tell the story of these amazing volunteers back in the U.S. (Churches and service groups across the U.S. are working to try to put together more than 100,000 Caregiver kits by Dec. 1. - Learn how you can participate in this worthwhile effort.)
We continue to believe that we are here with you in spirit. Your prayers sustain us probably in more ways than we can count. Know that you are loved today from the heart of Africa.
Peace.
posted by The Dykstra Family at 2:59 AM
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