Thursday, July 16, 2015

When you are tired of doing well.


I have been home a little over a week from Zambia.  My sleep schedule has improved greatly, but this week, every day seemed like a Friday.  I will own I am still a bit off on my sense of time.   I responded to an email that had an issue needing to be addressed, stating I would get on it Monday.  I still had two work days in which to get the requested task done.  Monday...what in the world was I thinking?  (I did take care of the issue.)  



This Sixty Fifth Year blog, is for me a time to stay aware and engaged in all that is around me.  I long to be part of a change, a good change.  A change where a well is dug, and that well brings fresh water to a village of 800-1000 people. The well's clean water will improve their lives.  A change where I make others aware that they too can make a difference, even if they never travel the world.  A change where I encourage people to not settle for lesser goals because their main goal might be hard to achieve.  A change where I challenge those in our country who complain about a piece of meat,  served to them in a beautiful restaurant, that has not met their critical 'taste' standards, to be grateful for the meat! 

Why the title "When you are tired of doing well"?  Because I am!   I don't want to be.  I want to remain encouraged about the progress I saw in our little village of Lutendee.  I want to be encouraged by those here in my country who have decided to stop being so self absorbed and too give back.  I want to wake up tomorrow and have a sense of 'all is right in the world".

I leave a 3rd world country whose people are proud of their heritage, want to make life better for their children, but do not know how. I  come home to my country who has gone crazy.  People hate it, disdain it, they devalue all life but their own and they mock it.   The sad thing is that my African country was looking to our country for stability and hope. 

I am grateful for all of the adventures, misadventures, travel opportunities, interaction with people opportunities and life experiences that have come my way. The experiences and exposures have opened up my eyes to the world.   If I were to die tonight, I have been blessed above most. I am most grateful for my curiosity of life that permeates my soul and drives me to keep going.

So, what do you do when it is easier to quit, give up, worry, complain?  
 Keep going! 
 If you or if I  make a difference in just one persons life, we have blessed them in their hard journey. 
 Great works are performed not by strength but by perseverance.
Samuel Johnson 
 I live my life based upon The Bible.  I answer to a higher being than myself or  my government. I am called upon to give and to serve those in my realm of influence.  Yes, it is tiring.  Yes, it can be discouraging and seemingly futile However, as I head to my bed shortly, to rest this weary body, I know that tomorrow will bring to me opportunities to make a difference in the life of another human being.  I am not here to please man but to please my God.  

"Don’t be misled: No one makes a fool of God. What a person plants, he will harvest. The person who plants selfishness, ignoring the needs of others—ignoring God!—harvests a crop of weeds. All he’ll have to show for his life is weeds! But the one who plants in response to God, letting God’s Spirit do the growth work in him, harvests a crop of real life, eternal life.
So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit. Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith." Galatians (Bible) 6:7-10



Monday, July 13, 2015

The King




Libosi Imwiko II, King of Barotseland, has a message for the Zambian ...
Note his chair and scepter.

My last blog post shared one aspect of my special opportunity to visit a king!  I have been fascinated with the whole protocol of kingship since my first visit on his property two years ago.  Two weeks ago on Saturday we were given the privilege of meeting him.
Kuomboka traditional ceremony of the Lozi people in western province
His name is Libosi Imwiko II.  He is part of the Lozi tribe a people, who migrated from the Congo several hundred years ago.  He is popular with his people though economic issue remain. 

The cultural traditions of his people have been maintained, for the good or the bad. (Perspective). 

The traditions are fascinating, foreign to me. Twice a year he moves.  During the rainy, summer season he lives in Mongu proper. (Photo below)  In the dry season he moves to the flood plain of the Zambzi River.

The regalia of him moving locations,  is festive and very expensive for the people, but they love it and hold on to this experience.  The king has one large canoe, his wife another!    We visited the grounds on the flood plane this time.  It is very, very modest and run down but, the tradition remains.  We were not allowed to photograph his residence on the flood plane.The pictures of the king below I snagged from Google. :)

The tribal attire is bright and beautiful the red hat denotes he is chief as well.  Chiefs of every village sport their red hats.  In future blogs of Zambia you will see reds hats abound.

The King's  land in Mongu has Lozi's renting from him.  I asked how one got to 'be' on the Kings land.  As in all cultures, it is political, whose village do you belong too, for example.  It also costs a lot of money...I guess we would consider it the high rent district.  The Zambzi river connects him to both of his homes.  The photo below is the incredible sunset where the Zambzi forks onto his property.

A little chief in the making.
He sits in within the striped area to greet the people. His home is behind the wall.



Sunset on The Kings property.

Women heading home for the evening. They live on the kings property   


When a tradition gathers enough strength to go on for centuries, 
you don't just turn it off one day.
Chinua Achebe
 

Sunday, July 12, 2015

An Appointment with The King





I am back in 'my world'.  The world of ease and conveniences. I am coming out of my jet-lag fog and want to catch up on the stories of the past two weeks.

Do you ever feel your life is surreal at times? Mine is!  When I decided to blog about the year 65 in my life I had no idea just how incredible, random and unpredictable  the experiences would be.

I have set out to make note of all things 'life'.   Ignoring sunrises and complaining of rain, ignoring kind gestures and noting the opposite, groaning over inconveniences rather than embracing the luxuries I do have have, all come into focus as I realize what blessings abound in my life.

In my 4th Zambian trip some things have rarely changed, but little changes are poking their heads up through this sandy forsaken place.   Each trip looks a bit different as we focus on the people and projects that are part of our over site. This time there were more local paved roads in Mongu. They lead us to dusty paths but it is progress! This time our visits with dignitaries seemed a bit more hopeful.  This time the weather was cooler (70 degrees) their winter.

But one tradition remains part of the African culture, The King. Here in the Western Provence of Zambia he still plays a significant role in the lives of the people. I had been on his property one other time.    His cement walled home is old but distinct, when surrounded by the grass huts of those who pay to live on his property.  It borders the river and it is a tranquil part of Mongu.  Guards, walls and rules are what one experiences upon arrival.  Protocol of where to walk, when to talk, what to do is immediately thrust upon us as we arrive.

Perhaps no one will be reading this but as I write, it helps me to keep the experience forged into my brain.  How many people get to experience this?  As white women from across the globe, born in Oregon, living in Chicago, finding myself in Mongu, sitting before a king, I am in awe. Many of his subjects have never had this privilege, they watch him from a far!   Wow and why me?

I will write another blog post about this king adventure,  but for now protocol is my focus.  Upon our arrival our  instruction on what to do, how to do it and when, was very serious! Our American chatter was discouraged. We were subject to his rules.  We were introduced to a world very foreign to our way of thinking and doing life. 

Women play a lesser role (understatement) in this world.  Both men and women have a protocol that is strictly adhered too.   No one is ever 'higher' than the king.  No one ever 'turns their back' on the king.  Women enter through a side and back entrance, men go directly in.  We ultimately did meet together in the reception room.   At several junctions we were instructed to kneel down and clap.  Women have a different clap/beat than the men.   I am not catholic but it reminded me a bit of stations of the cross. There were specific places where we had to stop, kneel and clap.

In the past my friend (a woman) had to crawl into the king.  I had been hoping we would do this just for the experience.  As it turned out we did not crawl and given the distance (any distance) I would have had to be wheeled out or remained prostrate during our time. In this instance my 'old' bones would have revolted.

The room where we met, was a cement stone building next to his residence.  A modest but large residence by Zambian standards.  The floor had bamboo woven mats, the windows were openings within the cement block wall,  in the back a nice conference table, in the front his 'throne/chair' and prominent side chairs. We were given chairs to sit on.   Those who directed us on protocol sat on the floor.  Those on the floor were awaiting direction of what we were to do 'next'.  The king directs the conversations.

Kingship is foreign to our/my thinking and so when I see one who embraces his role very seriously and expects the same from others, it is to be taken note of.   Since we do not serve a 'king' and our culture is irreverent,  I pondered the experience and tried to put my self in the place of those who have a 'king'.  I was on his land, in his Provence, in his presence. Observe and learn were my thoughts.  We had no idea what to expect but our time turned out to be delightful.

The work of Hands of Hope had come to his attention a couple of years back.  Hands of Hope does excellent work on each of our projects, be they wells, schools or the clinic.  We expect excellence and the results are obvious to all who see the projects.  (http://www.handsofhopeonline.org/).    The Western Provence is the poorest in all Zambia so what we do is noted on so many levels. The quality of the projects completed is superior, the location choices (the middle of no-where) and we keep coming back to help have made a bold statement to this king.  None of it makes sense to those observing but it is changing lives.

Vicky Wauterlek and The King
The Kings entry was solemn, but he turned out to be very cordial with us.  Laughing at our weak pronunciation of 'Mongu' and our American blunt/direct approach to things.  He listened and heard our concerns over the lack of help from the government in getting school books to his people, medicine for the clinic, etc. He was shocked at the blatant resistance we have received these past years in getting projects completed by government officials.  He became an advocate for us!

He allowed Vicky (president of HOH) to sit next to him.  This is huge on two accounts.  One, she is a woman! Two, she was allowed the chair that only the Prime Minister sits in.

(Take note of his scepter. It is a beautiful carved piece of ivory.  It has leather fringes (my word) on the end.  This day is served to swat flies. )

Our team with the King of Western Zambia!
Today,  I am sitting here in a home grander than this king's.  I am sitting here with all creature comforts known to man.  I am for the moment free to share what I think, hope for and feel. However, I am humbled to have had this privilege for though his 'reign' has no impact on me, he rules his people and I hope justly.