Saturday 2nd November                                                               

I’ve been working at Serenity Harm Reduction Programme Zambia (SHARPZ ) for two years now and how much I have learned! Probably I could say that these two years have been two of the most difficult of my religious life.  I did not choose to live in Lusaka and initially felt like one turned upside down and shaken till all my pockets were emptied. All my lowness of spirit, misery and despair seemed to find an outlet and meaning in the men and women I subsequently worked with those two intense days every week. Alcoholism, drugs, depression, eating disorder, life on the streets, family disaffection- I was amazed at how I could apply the tools of the counselling trade when I was in such a mess myself!

Invariably though, when I most immediately and personally assaulted by my own fears, anger and hurt- that is when I must slowly once again turn to those inner resources within to befriend what is strange, frightening, definitely not wanted in my life, in a positive and gentle way.  That is when I am again grounded in wholeness and healing.  It is as though I have to get out my own map.  In such painful learning, knowledge of the way to healing becomes personal, and fresh. So when someone particularly broken or traumatised was referred to us, I felt my own lost spirit sit up, alert. I began to recognise how fear works, how it paralyses and pins down. Even though I felt tentative at first with a client, I knew from my inside what it means to be befriended when lost. When a way forward is shown, energy starts stirring, and with it, hope.  Of course I learned so much from Sr. Helen. We worked closely together each week; particularly in the weekly men’s therapy every Tuesday for the two hours. The men made it of course, but we felt like midwives, bringing life to birth.

Mutama joined our weekly group from out of town; six hours journey.  He was a thin rake of six feet.  He had been briefly in prison after one night’s drunken fight with a fellow security guard, who later died in hospital. Mutama had been drinking since he left school.  Estranged from his family, only Rachel his younger sister supported him and brought him to our programme.  He responded well, and alternating between sobriety and break outs, managed an erratic yet steady  return to independent living and friendlier terms with his father, (so precious to both), finding rented accommodation and moved permanently to Lusaka.  Rachel, by now working in Botswana, was sending him money, and urging him to undertake some small business enterprise. Between them they devised a chicken selling trade whereby Mutama would go at dawn to central market and buy cheap from a Chinese business man and sell in the compounds at a slightly higher price.  Lu was his partner; Mutama brought him to join us in a session!

Then for a month or so, Mutama dropped out. “What’s happening, Mutama?” I asked when at last he answered his phone. “Ah Sister, I’m so lonely! I don’t know anyone here!”  More family conferencing ensued. Then in the New Year, Mutama began more individual therapy with us and as well resumed accountancy studies in a top Lusaka Accountancy College; even working with Beth our Administrator, (who spent hours with him on the computer) for hands on experience, in pro bono work.  Fantastic the difference! Mutama was happy- occupied, and supported. He had companionship, hope and studied hard.  I’m not sure how assiduous he was with his chickens, but who could ask more? He seemed to be getting thinner and thinner.

“Sister, Mutama is ill.  After his final exam, we’re taking him back to Copperbelt for tests.” An email from Rachel, by now married in UK. “I’ll be in Lusaka at the end of the week.” That’s how we sat down; Beth, Helen and I, with Rachel. Despite the constant communication this was the first time I’d met her, though Mutama had shown me her photo. “Who’s that little girl?” I asked him. “That’s Rachel!” said Mutama grinning, “She’s my young sister!” And here she was; not only Rachel but Mutama’s step mother.  She and Mutama had long reconciled. “You see Sister, Mutama is HIV positive!” We all drew in our breath sharply then sat still for several minutes, silent and stunned. We didn’t think of HIV! I thought of Mutama’s long struggle, and all he had mastered. Then Rachel started sobbing.  We just sat closer, hardly daring to look at each other.  It was a bitter acceptance we shared; and we prayed quietly together.  Then bade gentle farewells and watched the two women walk sadly away.  Maybe he can pick up with ARVs, I thought. “You get well, Mutama, I told him, when he rang.  College has given a room for you! You can yet marry and have children!” He was 26. But everything packed up on him; liver, kidneys and he died. God! We mourned him and prayed for him in a small prayer service, one month after his funeral; recounting his stories, his joyful returns to family intimacy, his pride in academic progress, his being able to work!  That’s when we began talking about sexual health far more explicitly, consciously in the group. We owed that to Mutama.

Love, lots of it,

Marie

Holiday in Luapula

Monday 7th October

I managed a week’s holiday in Luapula Province, Kasanka village (630kms north east) last week with Helen and I completing our 4^th cycle of 16 week drug and alcohol therapy group work and declaring a week’s break from all appointments.  It has been more than a year since my last visit and I wondered how I’d “fit in,” after such an absence.  But country people don’t change much and readily swamped me with greetings, questions and delight.  I’d returned and when was I coming back?  Nine hours sleep was the order of the day, and by walking in a circle crossing the dry swamp and re-crosssing further west, had the chance to exchange waves of recognition from houses, pathways and when I reached the highway, even the little ones from the Primary School decided that I merited abandoning their morning line up outside class to come and greet me.  The highway is barely 50 metres from the school. These are Sr. Agness’ former Pre-School students.  Agness is currently in our Novitiate community in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe- and actually spent a few days in Kasanka while I was there, chasing up documents she needed from Samfya District.

Rogita was still there too, when I arrived though I didn’t see her till the following morning as I’d arrived on the night bus at 01.30! The dogs did though, ecstatic to meet someone and company in the night!  I’d thought my holiday was to be a solitary one and here was both Rogita and Agness!  Rogita postponed her Kabwe trip, as the Literacy School borehole drilling team arrived out of the blue.  They worked all day Saturday, overtime, in order to accommodate the project- and it was urgent as soon the rains would come, ruling out any further drilling until the following year.

Unfortunately my Bemba language has deteriorated to infant standard, and I could say little when the Sunday Congregation called me to the front to give an account of myself! Ho hum! My week was full of sleep, lazing about, coaching Agi with her reverse driving (she hopes to go for her driver’s licence in December) and doing some gardening.  Having arrived by night, for my Lusaka return (always a challenge!) I decided to risk a morning wait by the road for the Kawambwa “Peace Soldier,” the only day time coach, positioning myself at the Milenge junction, on the highway.  I’d just missed a chance in a private vehicle, so settled to wait with a book, wondering would I be forced to return in the evening for the night buses.  Whoosh, there it was! Stuffing my book hastily into my handbag, and shrugging on my back pack, I began waving down the coach as it sped past. “It’s stopping, Sister. Run!” yelled people from the other side of the road in encouragement. And sure enough it was, even reversing back, from further up the road.  So I ran and so did another young man in the middle of the road, grinning in support as I breathlessly climbed up.

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Rogita, Agness and Elizabeth currently studying in UK

My heart was filled with gratitude, as the miles flew by, and we reached in good time.  There was a great atmosphere on that bus.  Perhaps because both passengers and staff are from the same place, Kawambwa?  But it was the two bus boys and two co-drivers who attracted my attention, who throughout the journey joked and teased, enjoying each other. I enjoyed myself and even managed workshop preparation for a course next month.  And to think and pray.  It was a good break; so different that it was like visiting another world.

Heaps of love, Marie