Saturday, 26 May 2012

The Girl from Mashika

The Girl from Mashika and Kasanka Community
Night journey
Last week I returned to my beloved Kasanka 730kms to Luapula by the night bus.  In between snoozing I watched Scorpio stretching itself along the night horizon. The stars!  I’d forgotten how they gleam and glisten in the black country sky! We staggered out at intervals.  We lost a quarter of our passengers just before Kapiri Mporshi.  They must have been ferried to the other side of the town, to avoid the weighing station; grinning and returning to their seats, telling me they were back!  I had grown alarmed as usually it is only those in the back seats who just walk through the town in the dark and wait by the barrier for the bus after the weigh in.  Obviously road traffic officials had seen this and now the bus company paid for a 30 km lift on.  Well, it must have benefited passengers too, carrying extra loads for them to be so inconveniencing themselves!  On we went and I fell asleep again, until waking I was amazed to see the flattened, bleached grass of the swamps.  Had we passed Kasanka?  I peered out the window and saw with relief the concrete runway up to Luapula Bridge, which meant 30 kms to go.  At bus speed, that gave me 20 minutes to negotiate my scattered bags, sleeping children on the floor, slumbering passengers and suitcases, necessitating giant steps to the front, to the only other person awake; the driver!
Arrival
Thus I stepped down onto Kasanka soil, and could hear Ben our dog barking half a mile away, and then quietly listening as I made my way home.  Rogita had left everything unlocked, so no trouble getting to bed; apart from foisting off a rapturous 25 kg of Ben who insisted on proper ritual of welcome! It was 2am; fantastic for sleep.
What everyone was doing!

Sr. Agnes and Students

Upon waking, and a brief breakfast I set off to find the community. First off was Agnes at the local Primary School, with her little Pre-Schoolers, Elizabeth at Chitundwa (through which we had just shot through at 120 k.p.h. seven hours ago!) then Rogita back through Kasanka to Chisakana where she was visiting the Home Based Care Clients at their outstations with Juliet and the Programme Care Supporters.  When I arrived, there was a lively discussion about Jonah.  How come he was receiving food as well as medicine?

Arguing the Point!

  So Juliet explained that Jonah was sick, needed food as well as medicine right now.  Her own case was different and once again explained how the programme was not about hand outs but medical assistance, and when Clients set up income generating activities it can be sustained in the future. And here Juliet’s voice rose a pitch; edged with frustration- Did you not know that so many other programmes had collapsed, with Clients struggling with HIV and poor access to ARV’s?  Well the group listened- I don’t know how convinced they were but at the next site, we met up with the famous Jonah (not really his name) who refused to work on establishing any income generating activity and in disgust his name was removed from the programme!

The HBC Team at Work
How difficult it is to wean Clients off dependency and to play their part in an educative way! Juliet understandably got very annoyed! Jonah’s name was ruled through and he was off the programme!  Luckily for him he can still access ARV’s at the local clinic but when he gets sick and he can’t walk the kilometers, he will ask to return to the mobile programme.  The team have seen it all before with other Clients.  They also know that if the programme is to be sustainable, the people themselves need to support it in their local endevours like charcoal burning, some market gardening, keeping a few pigs etc.  It has to happen.  
 
Young women cooking for the J & P Seminar
The Girl from Mashika
That morning Rogita met 16 year old who had trekked from Mashika, sleeping only upon reaching the security of Milenge turn off at the edge of Kasanka village on the Mansa road. Mashika is 60 kilometres through the bush, “as the crow flies.”  Could the Sisters give her transport money to reach her Aunt in Chililabombwe, because she was pregnant and her “uncle” was demanding she “get rid of it” and he refused to have a “bastard” under his roof.  Juliet and Rogita looked at each other; questions jostling in their minds.  Was she really pregnant?  Was this a ploy for money?  How were they to check the girl’s story?  The girl, reading their minds went on to explain that her husband died in January, and only four months later did she realize that she was pregnant. Was she really married, they  asked her. Well, not really but they were intending to. Their “uncle” was the owner of the house and related to her dead husband, and there were two other brothers living in the house.  Alarm bells began ringing in the women’s minds.  Was there anyone they could ring in Mashika to verify her story, she was asked. At least Kasanka was recently in cellular coverage with the rest of the world now!  No, she knew no numbers.  They looked at her “luggage;” a few small items tied in a grimy cloth.
Parish Justice and Peace Seminar
That week end Parishioners had gathered for a Justice and Peace seminar at the Parish Centre and Henry (his real name) from the Diocesan Centre had arrived from Mansa; an astute and good man.  Juliet  and Rogita had HBC (Home Based Care) outstations to visit, could Henry check out the girl’s story?  Henry met with her briefly, needed to start his programme but would sit down with her later in the morning.  “Mother Theresa,” Juliet would accommodate and feed her meantime in the family compound!
  Sr.  Rogita and Henry
As it turned out, there was a seminar participant from Mashika who was related to the uncle  and knew the man who had died.  Later in the morning it was found that one of the HBC volunteers was related to the girl! Yes, everyone is related somehow!  Kinship and family connections run underground all over the place!  Henry sat with her and investigated further and aided with bits of information he and the community  drew up a plan.  Clearly the girl could not return to Mashika and her uncle.  He would be infuriated with her on a number of counts; better to have his relative go as an emissary to see and calm things down so she could safely return at some later date if she wanted.  Henry meantime could give her lift to Mansa and put her on the Copperbelt bus through Congo for Chililabombwe the following day. She had no number to contact her Aunt but she remembered the house from a previous visit and could make her way there.
Chitundwa and a day later
While this drama was unfolding at the parish Centre, I grabbed my camera and set off to see Agnes at Kasanka Basic School, where she was with her Pre-Schoolers and then on to Chitundwa to where Elizabeth was with her Grade Nine’s.  I missed Agi’s little ones but managed to find a few still lingering and  got lovely ones of Elizabeth.  When we all trouped home for lunch, of course the subject round the table was the “the girl from Mashika.”  I wonder if I’ve some clothes for her that we can fit her out with? Elizabeth was thinking out aloud.  I thought to myself, “Isn’t a Religious community a most wonderful gift for a rural community?”
L-R Srs. Rogita, Agnes, Eliza FMDM
My visit ended too quickly.  We had booked a seat the following day on the only bus, so we thought running that Sunday to Lusaka.  Off we set for the road, only ten minutes away that evening, and we stood chatting as the sky darkened into early evening, swapping stories and swatting mosquitoes!  The stars grew enormous into a wondrous glistening spread all around us. Aha! Bus lights popped over the night horizon and bore down upon us, and we all began flagging down the speeding bulk. With gusts of dust and screeching of brakes it stopped 100 yards ahead, so Eliza ad Agnes grabbed my bags and ran with Rogita and I doing our best behind them.  God! Not our bus!  We shouted profuse apologies, explaining we were waiting for someone else!  Imagine our embarrassment after flagging down five other coaches and tow loaded trucks (how were we to tell the difference in the dark?) before “our” bus finally arrived two hours later.  Such is life in the bush!
Marie Bourke FMDM, May 2012