Serving and Loving the People of Zambia. This is the phrase that is on most of our prayer letters, photos and other materials. This has been the plan, the goal, the intent of preparing for ministry here. Little did we realize that the “People of Zambia” hardly includes just native Zambians.
Since arriving here 2 ½ months ago, we have had opportunities to serve and love – and be served and loved by – people from Zambia, Zimbabwe, Tanzania, South Africa, Ghana, Ethiopia, Angola, New Zealand, Malaysia, Korea, India, Ireland, United Kingdom, Germany, Holland, Canada, and the US. And every expectation or stereotype I might have had of people from each of those countries has been stripped away. And though we and many of our expatriate friends, and fellow missionaries find ourselves immersed in Zambian culture, many of these individuals seem to be living in a completely different world.
The copper mining industry has really grown in Zambia, and our town of Solwezi is no exception. The mines certainly employ many Zambians, but there are also “experts” brought in from all over the world. Some, like many of our white Zimbabwean friends, have fled their countries and started life over here in Zambia. Others know their time here is only temporary until projects are completed and they return to their respective countries or move on to a different project. But while here, they form a community – or two very distinct communities. There are the miners who are Christians, and those who aren’t. They all live at what is called the Kansanshi Golf Estate, a gated, guarded, manicured facility complete with an 18-hole golf course, clubhouse, pool and gym. The houses are very westernized with modern appliances, and a lot of their food needs are shipped directly in from Lusaka, or even Johannesburg, so they rarely have to venture into town or away from the estate.
Just a side note here: we don’t look down on our friends at the mines for their lifestyle. They’re here to work, and they work very hard and tirelessly. We actually appreciate having the mining estate, because having both grown up in water, we dry out if we don’t get a good swim in now and then!
Though there are English-speaking churches in Solwezi, the Christian community at the mining estate has started a home church fellowship. There is no one who is trained theologically, but their faith is real and a few of the men have taken turns sharing a message and leading the group in songs and prayer each week. They also have a women’s group that meets and discusses Christian books (currently they’re reading The Five Love Languages). Though they tend to stay there on the complex, they have offered resources, assistance, and friendship to us (even frontline spray for our dog!). While their fellowship is strong, there seems to be a divide between those who believe, and the other miners who spend much of their free time at the clubhouse bar, and little effort to reach the others for Christ.
I write this because we’re realizing more and more that God has plans for us that go far beyond the Kaonde people of Solwezi. Though our primary ministry is focused on training, teaching, discipling and loving our friends in the villages around Solwezi, as white, American missionaries living in town, we are also in a unique position to reach out to and serve those on the other end of the economical and social structure. And what’s more, to possibly help bridge the gap between the two. I hate distinguishing people based on the color of their skin, but racism and stereotypes are very strong here, and the wealthy, white folks from Zambia and other parts of Africa (mostly of British roots) have definitive attitudes toward the poor, black population and vice versa. But God’s love for both groups – all people – is very real, and we will be honored if He uses us to demonstrate that love here through our interactions with people from all classes and nationalities. There will likely be opportunities for Luke to “preach” in the home church fellowship, and I have gotten involved in the ladies Bible study. Yet, we speak Kikaonde to their gardeners, maids and guards, dress in our long pants and skirts, and share of the positive things God is doing in the villages and homes of our Zambian friends. We also seek to be lights to the other miners we see around – those outside the Christian fellowship. (Additionally, we sometimes find ourselves working side by side with Peace Corp volunteers in the village – a HUGE opportunity for sharing Christ.)
Isn’t God amazing? It’s like our Cameroonian pastor in Dallas – there in the US to reach other Africans for Christ – culturally equipped in a way an American pastor would not be. Perhaps we weren’t just called to Africa to love our African brothers and sisters, but also so that we might reach other Westerners for Christ in the process. May we keep our eyes and hearts and home open to the ways God intends to use us here in Zambia!
26 February 2011
05 February 2011
Opportunity Knocks... Literally
“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” Hebrews 13:15
Many people say they would gladly do mission work or volunteer or help someone if they knew of the needs – if the opportunities presented themselves.
Here in Zambia, opportunity knocks, multiple times a day.
During our initial period of language learning, we have strict orders from our directors not to commit to any specific ministry. No teaching, no set schedule, no planned activities. We have quickly discovered that language learning itself is a ministry, as is simply living here. Here in Zambia; here in Solwezi; here in what has been known as a mission house for 40 or so years.
Take yesterday (Friday), for example. We started our day at a grammar lesson with one of the veteran missionaries here and thought we would spend our afternoon reviewing our lesson and relaxing a bit, as Monday through Thursday we typically walk out to Kimasala (where our primary ministry will be based) to meet with our local language helpers. We have a gentleman who helps with some of the slashing (cutting the grass) and work around the house, and because his birthday is today, I sent him home with a bag of rice and a bag of beans for his family. They, like the majority of the Zambians, typically only eat nshima (balls made from ground maize, water and salt). Beans and rice are luxuries. I was humbled and shocked when he knelt down to thank me. Have we ever been that grateful for rice and beans?
Shortly after he left, a young woman visited who had been close to the Bruce family. Nyawa works with neglected elderly people in a nearby area, but is from Lusaka (the capital) originally. She came seeking encouragement, friendship, and advice regarding her ministry, as well as a relationship she is in. While she was here, Charlie, who will be moving into the cottage on our property, came to store some things in our home while his is under renovation. Shortly after Nyawa left and the others had parted, our friend Sharpy arrived to visit and tell us about his work at the local newspaper. Later, just as we were ready to go to bed, we had another visitor who has some items stored by our carport to talk about some struggles with his ministry. Even today, we’ve had two unexpected visitors already.
There are days when visitors arrive just as we sit down for lunch or dinner – we hear it’s fairly common and have learned to cook extra. There are days when our time in Kimasala goes hours longer than planned because people are looking for a listening ear, a word of advice, or a lesson in English. . We take plastic grocery bags and Styrofoam trays from meat with us so that the ladies at Lusa can use the bags to hold maize they’ve grown and the trays to display earrings they’ve made to sell to make money for the ministries at Lusa. Things we would have just thrown away become a viable part of their livelihood.
It’s both exhausting and exhilarating. And all the while, people are ministering right back to us in amazing ways. At least once a week, someone sends us home with maize, tomatoes, mangoes, bananas or other precious goods. We’ve had people stop by when we’re not home, delivering cucumbers, pineapple, and from our expatriate friends at the mines, frontline spray for our dog! (There is an awesome and unexpected ministry opportunity to the miners, but that will be the subject of another post). At times we are frustrated that we can’t “start” the ministry we say we came here to do, but at those times we remind ourselves that we are learning to better communicate, building relationships, and doing what we can for the greatest and “least of these.”
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.... I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it for me.” (Matthew 26:35-36, 40)
Many people say they would gladly do mission work or volunteer or help someone if they knew of the needs – if the opportunities presented themselves.
Here in Zambia, opportunity knocks, multiple times a day.
During our initial period of language learning, we have strict orders from our directors not to commit to any specific ministry. No teaching, no set schedule, no planned activities. We have quickly discovered that language learning itself is a ministry, as is simply living here. Here in Zambia; here in Solwezi; here in what has been known as a mission house for 40 or so years.
Take yesterday (Friday), for example. We started our day at a grammar lesson with one of the veteran missionaries here and thought we would spend our afternoon reviewing our lesson and relaxing a bit, as Monday through Thursday we typically walk out to Kimasala (where our primary ministry will be based) to meet with our local language helpers. We have a gentleman who helps with some of the slashing (cutting the grass) and work around the house, and because his birthday is today, I sent him home with a bag of rice and a bag of beans for his family. They, like the majority of the Zambians, typically only eat nshima (balls made from ground maize, water and salt). Beans and rice are luxuries. I was humbled and shocked when he knelt down to thank me. Have we ever been that grateful for rice and beans?
Shortly after he left, a young woman visited who had been close to the Bruce family. Nyawa works with neglected elderly people in a nearby area, but is from Lusaka (the capital) originally. She came seeking encouragement, friendship, and advice regarding her ministry, as well as a relationship she is in. While she was here, Charlie, who will be moving into the cottage on our property, came to store some things in our home while his is under renovation. Shortly after Nyawa left and the others had parted, our friend Sharpy arrived to visit and tell us about his work at the local newspaper. Later, just as we were ready to go to bed, we had another visitor who has some items stored by our carport to talk about some struggles with his ministry. Even today, we’ve had two unexpected visitors already.
There are days when visitors arrive just as we sit down for lunch or dinner – we hear it’s fairly common and have learned to cook extra. There are days when our time in Kimasala goes hours longer than planned because people are looking for a listening ear, a word of advice, or a lesson in English. . We take plastic grocery bags and Styrofoam trays from meat with us so that the ladies at Lusa can use the bags to hold maize they’ve grown and the trays to display earrings they’ve made to sell to make money for the ministries at Lusa. Things we would have just thrown away become a viable part of their livelihood.
It’s both exhausting and exhilarating. And all the while, people are ministering right back to us in amazing ways. At least once a week, someone sends us home with maize, tomatoes, mangoes, bananas or other precious goods. We’ve had people stop by when we’re not home, delivering cucumbers, pineapple, and from our expatriate friends at the mines, frontline spray for our dog! (There is an awesome and unexpected ministry opportunity to the miners, but that will be the subject of another post). At times we are frustrated that we can’t “start” the ministry we say we came here to do, but at those times we remind ourselves that we are learning to better communicate, building relationships, and doing what we can for the greatest and “least of these.”
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.... I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it for me.” (Matthew 26:35-36, 40)
25 January 2011
Tubena Kufunda Kikaonde
A mi wa ne Mrs. Wessler. Twafuma ku Kwamelika. Twaiya na kufunda Kikaonde ne kukwasha bana ba kishali.
I am Mrs. Wessler. We are from America. We have come to learn Kikaonde and help orphaned children.
Get that one down and I’m set, right? Everyone tells us we’re learning very quickly, but I feel like I have to look up everything in my handy dandy notebook (Thank you Blues Clues) before saying it. Yes, my vocabulary is increasing significantly, and we have most of the greetings down, but this language stuff is HARD. It’s one thing to be able to say something to someone, but understanding what they say to you and then responding is a whole different story. And I keep wanting to resort to Spanish. Seriously. Especially because there is this horrible consonant that looks like the rolled “n” in Spanish, but sounds like the “ng” in sing. Not that hard, except it doesn’t end syllables or words, it starts them. Syllables always end in vowels. So here’s one of the words: Mwibananyi, used in “Anweba mwibananyi jizhina?” or “What is your name?” Break it apart…. Think: Mwi ba NGA nyi (but deep in your throat and hardly pronouncing it at all…). Okay, I’m going to stop now. I have figured out that if I say my name first (like the first line of this entry), I can just add, “Ngo bewa” to ask “what about you?” and avoid having to completely butcher the pronunciation. Enough of your language lesson for the day.
The fun part about learning the language is it breaks down a barrier. Because of the local mining community (with expatriates from all over the world), the local people are not used to the Mzungus (white people) making efforts to get to know them or speak their language. As we walk to Kimasala (the village where our ministry will primarily be based), or through the market, we see hard faces and looks of almost annoyance or frustration, but as soon as we greet people in Kikaonde or try to start a conversation, they warm up and tell us how great it is we are learning their language. What’s funny, is that a lot of people, especially kids, like to practice their English when they see us. Kids constantly ask us “How are you?” We think it’s the first - and sometimes the only – thing they learn because when we respond they have no idea what to say back! When we respond in Kikaonde some of them start laughing or cheering. People have started to recognize us, too. Our walk takes longer each day as more people greet us or ask us questions. The best is when the kids from Lusa Home-Based Care see us walking. On Friday a few saw me as we approached the last hill toward Kimasala, and they ran down the hill to give me a hug. Awesome.
We’ve also been told that we have to attend a different Kikaonde-speaking church each month during our language study to help us learn. Now we see people in the market who recognize us from church and ask about our work and our language study. I just wish I recognized them as easily as they recognize us!
With language study comes cultural study. We each have a great language helper that clues us in to traditions and “rules.” Like the men and women very rarely sit together in church. We’re talking full out separate sides of the room. Today we were told that a man will never sit in close proximity to his mother-in-law. Likewise, a woman would never sit near her father-in-law. So when Luke arrived to the home of his helper, the mother-in-law was there visiting and so Luke and Christopher sat outside for their lesson. Another thing – kids don’t receive any respect. There are different phrases and greetings and questions used for children than for adults. We add “mwane” as a term of respect to just about everything we say, but we don’t say it to kids – they would laugh or just be confused. But, you can ask kids things you can’t ask adults… like “what is your age?” (Or “how many years do you have?”) They don’t all know, but at least it’s appropriate to ask and answer. The kids will also run out to the road when they see us coming and yell “MZUNGUS” – letting all their friends know they see white people.
Even as we learn, we find ourselves as teachers. Our language helpers ask us questions about American culture. Today, Regina asked me if people eat nshima in the United States. Nshima is a staple here, made from pounded, ground maize that is boiled and formed into a sticky ball that is then used to pick up other food (think polenta… sort of). She was shocked to find out that we don’t. Then we discussed how our hair is very different and we have to wash it a lot more than they have to wash theirs. We also talk about language differences, helping them with their English. When observing the teaching of the children at Lusa, we sometimes even find ourselves correcting the teachers as they teach the kids English.
We are trying hard, and know that this is an important phase of our ministry – especially building relationships, but sometimes it’s exhausting. Communication is such an interesting thing, and I’ve never felt so much like I can’t express myself, even to those who speak English fairly well. I guess all things with time – and we look forward to a time when we can really share our hearts and speak to the hearts of our friends here. Shalaipo Mwane. (Remain well.)
I am Mrs. Wessler. We are from America. We have come to learn Kikaonde and help orphaned children.
Get that one down and I’m set, right? Everyone tells us we’re learning very quickly, but I feel like I have to look up everything in my handy dandy notebook (Thank you Blues Clues) before saying it. Yes, my vocabulary is increasing significantly, and we have most of the greetings down, but this language stuff is HARD. It’s one thing to be able to say something to someone, but understanding what they say to you and then responding is a whole different story. And I keep wanting to resort to Spanish. Seriously. Especially because there is this horrible consonant that looks like the rolled “n” in Spanish, but sounds like the “ng” in sing. Not that hard, except it doesn’t end syllables or words, it starts them. Syllables always end in vowels. So here’s one of the words: Mwibananyi, used in “Anweba mwibananyi jizhina?” or “What is your name?” Break it apart…. Think: Mwi ba NGA nyi (but deep in your throat and hardly pronouncing it at all…). Okay, I’m going to stop now. I have figured out that if I say my name first (like the first line of this entry), I can just add, “Ngo bewa” to ask “what about you?” and avoid having to completely butcher the pronunciation. Enough of your language lesson for the day.
The fun part about learning the language is it breaks down a barrier. Because of the local mining community (with expatriates from all over the world), the local people are not used to the Mzungus (white people) making efforts to get to know them or speak their language. As we walk to Kimasala (the village where our ministry will primarily be based), or through the market, we see hard faces and looks of almost annoyance or frustration, but as soon as we greet people in Kikaonde or try to start a conversation, they warm up and tell us how great it is we are learning their language. What’s funny, is that a lot of people, especially kids, like to practice their English when they see us. Kids constantly ask us “How are you?” We think it’s the first - and sometimes the only – thing they learn because when we respond they have no idea what to say back! When we respond in Kikaonde some of them start laughing or cheering. People have started to recognize us, too. Our walk takes longer each day as more people greet us or ask us questions. The best is when the kids from Lusa Home-Based Care see us walking. On Friday a few saw me as we approached the last hill toward Kimasala, and they ran down the hill to give me a hug. Awesome.
We’ve also been told that we have to attend a different Kikaonde-speaking church each month during our language study to help us learn. Now we see people in the market who recognize us from church and ask about our work and our language study. I just wish I recognized them as easily as they recognize us!
With language study comes cultural study. We each have a great language helper that clues us in to traditions and “rules.” Like the men and women very rarely sit together in church. We’re talking full out separate sides of the room. Today we were told that a man will never sit in close proximity to his mother-in-law. Likewise, a woman would never sit near her father-in-law. So when Luke arrived to the home of his helper, the mother-in-law was there visiting and so Luke and Christopher sat outside for their lesson. Another thing – kids don’t receive any respect. There are different phrases and greetings and questions used for children than for adults. We add “mwane” as a term of respect to just about everything we say, but we don’t say it to kids – they would laugh or just be confused. But, you can ask kids things you can’t ask adults… like “what is your age?” (Or “how many years do you have?”) They don’t all know, but at least it’s appropriate to ask and answer. The kids will also run out to the road when they see us coming and yell “MZUNGUS” – letting all their friends know they see white people.
Even as we learn, we find ourselves as teachers. Our language helpers ask us questions about American culture. Today, Regina asked me if people eat nshima in the United States. Nshima is a staple here, made from pounded, ground maize that is boiled and formed into a sticky ball that is then used to pick up other food (think polenta… sort of). She was shocked to find out that we don’t. Then we discussed how our hair is very different and we have to wash it a lot more than they have to wash theirs. We also talk about language differences, helping them with their English. When observing the teaching of the children at Lusa, we sometimes even find ourselves correcting the teachers as they teach the kids English.
We are trying hard, and know that this is an important phase of our ministry – especially building relationships, but sometimes it’s exhausting. Communication is such an interesting thing, and I’ve never felt so much like I can’t express myself, even to those who speak English fairly well. I guess all things with time – and we look forward to a time when we can really share our hearts and speak to the hearts of our friends here. Shalaipo Mwane. (Remain well.)
23 January 2011
A Time to Mourn
If you would have told me this morning that I would write two blog posts today, I would have thought you were nuts (here's the other one). But, you would have been right. Anyway…
“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”
~Romans 12:15
I knew today would be different the moment I walked into church. We were late, and we walked into the side door as the church was singing “How Great Thou Art” in Kikaonde, the local language. This hymn has been a favorite of mine for as far back as I can remember. When singing the refrain, I feel as though my soul really is singing. So even though I did not understand the language in which they were singing, I sang along in English.
But this hymn is more to me than my soul’s song to God. It reminds me of my grandmother who passed away in 2005. It has been 5 and a half years since she passed, but sometimes it feels like just yesterday. At her funeral, we recessed to the choir singing “How Great Thou Art,” and now I can’t hear that song without thinking of her. I praise God that she knew Him, but sometimes the pain of missing her comes, and I can’t help but pause and cry.
This isn’t the only song that does this to me, either. Another favorite of mine – “Here I Am Lord” – has taken on multiple layers of emotion as well. It is a song representative of our call into the mission field. It has been a favorite of Tiffany’s for longer than I’ve known her. In fact, she processed to it at our wedding. But our wedding would not be the last time she processed to this song.
My cousin Michael was killed by a train in September of last year. I posted a blog about it back in the fall, but the hole is still there. At his funeral, the family processed into the sanctuary to “Here I Am Lord.” Although I have not heard this song today, or even recently, I am daily led to prayer for my family as I have a memorial card for Michael serving as a bookmark in my Bible for my daily devotions.
So, why am I getting emotional about Grandma and Michael today? Because I received an email this afternoon from my best friend. His paternal grandfather passed away on Friday. And so I am mourning with him, just as he mourned with me when I lost my grandmother and my cousin. My heart goes out to him and his family as they look to God to comfort them during this time (which He promises to do; see Matthew 5:4). The pain will be real, but so is the comfort they have in knowing that Grandpa Allen is with Christ in heaven.
Our prayers are with you, Allen family. Please know that, though we cannot be with you during this time, we love you dearly and are with you in spirit. May God wrap His arms around you, holding you close and reminding you that He is ALWAYS there. Always.
Refocusing My Heart
2%
Of the earth’s population, it is only 2% who leave all they know and move to a completely foreign land to live and work.
We’re not talking about moving across the country, or even from one country to a similar country, such as the United States to Canada. No. We’re talking about New Zealand to India, Germany to Peru… or the United States to Zambia.
If it were easy to move cross-culturally, more than 2% of people would do it. But it’s not easy. And we have been reminded of this truth almost every day since we arrived.
People come by at all hours of the day, and we have needed to learn to give up our food, time, and even sleep to adjust to this open-door culture. When we do laundry, it takes up to 5 days before we can wear those clothes again; if we put them on sooner, we may have fly larvae burrow into our skin. Sometimes you can get milk, or cheese, or eggs, or bread; sometimes you can’t. Sometimes you have power, or running water; sometimes you don’t.
Life is different.
And we knew it would be when we came. But we were compelled by love. And as we continue to adjust to the culture, I have been confronted with what the focus of my affection truly is.
As a missionary, we need to love the people to whom we minister. In our case, this includes a love for the orphans and vulnerable children, as well as the sick and dying, the elderly, the poor, and everybody else in Solwezi. Christ says that we need to love our neighbors, and we do.
But if it were love for our neighbor that brought me here, I can say that it is not love for our neighbor that keeps me here. After somebody broke into our home while we were at church, it was not love for our neighbor that kept me here. I felt little love for my neighbor at that point.
It is love for Christ that keeps me here.
Isn’t this the compulsion we saw demonstrated by Paul? While on his first missionary journey, the people of Antioch and Iconium stoned him until he was nearly dead. His response? He returned to the city. Why? Because His passion for Christ compelled Him to bring the Gospel (see Acts 14).
And so this is my prayer for me, and my prayer for you as well. May a passion and love for Christ drive you in whatever you do. For it is only through Him that you can overcome the trials and opposition you face along the way.
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