marie.bourkefmdm: 24. 3 2013Lusaka, ZAMBIA
My dear family and friend...: 24. 3 2013 Lusaka, ZAMBIA My dear family and friends ! Yea! Hello from Zambia; I hope all is well with each one of you. Its Inte...
Sunday, 24 March 2013
24. 3 2013
Lusaka, ZAMBIA
My dear family and friends! Yea! Hello from Zambia; I hope all is
well with each one of you. Its
International Women’s Day and a holiday full of sunshine, birds and quiet. Best of all the chance to write letters to
you! I wanted to write on the day Zambia equalised with Ethiopia during the All
Africa Cup of Nations. A friend of mine had organised a table right in front of
the television at Arcades Shopping Centre for an evening cup of coffee; but it
took me thirty minutes to make the half mile down Great East Road; it was so
packed with Zambians with one thing in mind- get home early for kick off!
I could even feel my blood start to pump
with excitement, listening to the fever pitch of the radio commentator from
South Africa, and watching the intent way drivers hunched over their steering
wheels, Zambian flags flying from windows and masts, greeting each other with
conspiratorial nods and thumbs up- manoeuvering in and out of a packed crawl.
What a match! Our table was in the thick of supporters
alternatively cheering and holding their heads, groaning in frustration. Nil-
nil! But we were eagerly catching up on
personal news and had to periodically ask the score from the waiter and what had
happened following an outburst of cheering- ask, then plunge back into
conversation. I thought we’d won, so my delight turned to bemused
puzzlement, disappointment and shock as I made my way back to the car to head
home. Good Lord! Zambia, the defending champions; and we could
not even score against Ethiopia!
I glanced round as I opened the car door, as right
next to me, four or five young Zambian men were piling into their car; a smart
one too. The one nearest, cheerful with
drink, yet struck by the unusual sight of a white lady at his elbow, and grief
of the match we’d all been watching, blurted out in greeting, “Madam, how do
you live?” Upon which his companions roared with laughter. I laughed too, answering in Bemba, “Kuno kwine;
ku Lusaka.” Then the driver leaned out and said to me, “What he means to say is,
“Where do you do!” We all had a good
laugh together, and I added in terrible grammar how- my grief was great
(ifilamba fyandi ifingi!) so we all greeted and went our separate ways in merry
spirit.
Lusaka grows on me with such moments! As I mentioned in my Christmas letter, I
really love the drug and alcohol work I do.
It is intense and almost like a war front- no prisoners taken. Do or
die. This year we have recruited ten young staff members whose work is either
in research with John Hopkins University or training community leaders in local
initiatives, either church or school based projects, mostly in the local
languages too, so it is powerful, innovative, and exciting to watch develop.
Similar initiatives are springing up in Namibia, Botswana and Tanzania. I’ve seen some of the media presentations
using Picture Codes, to mobilise local action groups for mobilising in the
poorer compounds here in Lusaka as well as for the outreach programmes in the
provincial centres starting this month.
Last week Zambia National Broadcasting
Corporation (ZNBC) called in at our place, Serenity Harm Reduction Programme
Zambia (SHARPZ) check us out on the web; www.sharpz.com
and interviewed our Director,
Fr. Phillip Baxter, giving, ”us” free advertising. As a consequence quite a few rang asking for
more information for help. One older
sister rang and as promised, arrived the following week with her youngest
brother, and mother in tow. So as usual
after introductions and explanations of our programme and approach, I was to sit
down with Kasonde for a full assessment after I’d given Mum a cup of tea; older
sister was to head off to work. So I
busied myself in the kitchen and was surprised to find both Mum and older
sister standing outside, in a huddle, looking upset. “What’s happened?” I asked. “He’s gone,” they
said. “Where?” said I wonderingly. “Out
the gate. Down the road!” Immediately I realised I’d assumed too much,
had not spent enough time preparing and
encouraging Kasonde; instead left him
alone, to just panic, and flee! “Okay,”
I decided, “let’s catch up with him.” That’s how we all jumped into the little
Ford, drawing in front of him at the crossroads. “Kasonde, can we talk?” “Ah no, it’s “Peter”(as
in Stuyvesant) time!” He was feverishly
trying to buy cigarettes, looking wild eyed. Meantime his women folk were
persuading him into the car, so I got in and drove into the nearby church yard
for privacy.
“I’m so sorry, Kasonde,” says I twisting
round to face him in the back. “I did not explain properly. We won’t push you or force you at any time;
you go at your own pace- whatever you can manage to cut down; that is how it
will be. According to what you can
manage. You don’t need to run.” “I’ve been running all my life!” says
Kasonde, “that’s how it is!” Anyway,
after a bit of talking I saw the look of panic and defiance die down, and even
soften into some humour of the situation, as he watched me. “I’ll come tomorrow,” he told me. “Okay,”
says I not believing it but hoping.
Imagine my surprise the following morning. There Kasonde was- and I could not smell so
much drink on him either. He stopped schooling in Grade 9. No wonder he bolted. Even now, when I showed
him the papers we’d work on to assess the seriousness of his condition, he
groaned out aloud, when he saw these under my arm. “Don’t worry,” I assured him, “You will be
fine.” And he was too. He had good firm
handwriting. But the amount of spirits
he was taking! “Wow, Kasonde,” I told
him, “you’ve got the top score!” At
which he just giggled. But, my God, his mouth set into a determined line, as I
described the plan ahead. He was ready
for the fray! What a goer! After de-tox, weekly group work, here we come.
You will see below a photo of Lana Turvey (with our
dog!) who volunteered to work a year in Mission Overseas and worked on all
kinds of projects, with Fr Bernard Zulu
the national coordinator and is now back in Australia- in Sydney. I enjoyed her and I miss her. Much love Lana
and thank you!
This comes with much love and prayers!
Marie
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