Letters from Africa - Day 9

Monday, June 25th, 2012

As it turns out the performance at the funeral made quite an impact. We were informed by Richmond that the family of the deceased had been quite moved, and they wanted us to play at the final viewing of the body. At the last minute, it was decided that that would be the best thing for us to do.

After an abridged session at the academy, we loaded up with the students and made our way to the viewing. Conversation was light and easy in our truck until we turned a corner. Students from Choma Secondary had lined up on both sides of the street.

Once we had made our way inside to where the casket was being presented we were told to join the family of the deceased on stage. Ater the ceremony the band played hymns as hundreds of students, family, and community members filed past the open casket. The wailing of the grieving and the solemn choruses continued until the last of the visitors had passed. We left in silence

As we were leaving, Richmond informed us that although we hadn't seen it, we had just experienced the effects of HIV/AIDS. The deceased man's wife had died only a few months earlier from the disease, and now it had claimed him, leaving his children as double orphans.

In that light, I noticed the interesting contrast that this day held. At this ceremony we found both the death and destruction caused by HIV/AIDS as well as our hope to fight against it. Our students, many of whom know firsthand the devastation this disease brings, were able to give the grieving an honor normally reserved for presidential funerals.

This is what Poetice and Fortress Vision are about. We are here to show those devastated by the disease and the stigma around it that there is hope and purpose in spite of it. We are equipping and encouraging them to make a real, tangible difference in their own lives and in their community. Today, one such difference was made, and we got to witness it firsthand.

For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.

Letters from Africa - Day 8

Sunday, June 24th, 2012

Have you ever felt rushed to get to church, or felt the tension while trying to avoid showing up late and being "that family"? Well that doesn't happen in Zambia. Our little family tried tob e ready by 9:20, but our ride didn't who up until 9:45. The "ten minute drive" to Pilgrim Wesleyan Church was closer to half an hour. For Americans, this kind of delay could mind-numbingly frustrating. For Zambians, it's standard procedure, and true to form, the service hadn't even started by the time we showed up (which was well past its supposed starting time).

This is just one of the many ways in which Americans and Zambians are different. At the core we are very similar, but our priorities and passions lie in different places. Zambians may not care much about hard deadlines, but ask them to pray in church and they'll blow the doors off with their zeal. The word thunderous comes to mind when they sing together in worship. Every aspect of the service, from the greeting to the songs to he sermon had an intensity and intentionality that was new to me. The room throbbed with it this desire to meet with God. One especially profound moment occurred when one of the songs went especially long.  As the chorus was repeated again and again, members of the congregation stopped singing and began to pray. Soon the music had completely given way to the clamor of a praying congregation. It wasn't scripted or forced, it just went where it seemed to go naturally. After a time the music began again and the entire congregation was singing once more. No announcement, no suggestion or verbal transition. It just happened. I wonder how many American churches capture this kind of fluidity and spontaneity.

Needless to say we left the church a bit breathless, but we felt ready to perform that evening. Our performance wouldn't be what we had originally expected, however. On Saturday we were informed that the youth rally where we were expected to to play had been cancelled. One of the teachers at Choma Secondary Schoo, a school with ties to Fortress Vision,  had died. Instead of the rally our team and some of the academy students headed to the home of the deceased, where many had already gathered to pay their respects and observe the Zambian tradition of being present for what Richmond called the "funeral period."

The academy band played hymn after hymn, lending a solemn atmosphere until it was simply too dark to read the music. When we turned from our stands we saw that where had once been empty lawn were now hundreds of people, all those who had known or been impacted by the life of this teacher.

It occurred to me then tht we had been a part of a big event, and what we had done for this family was no small thing. Indeed, it was a way for our students to invest and give back to their community in a profound way, even if they have seemingly nothing to offer. For Poetice and Fortress Vision, it is exactly what we hope for.

For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.

Letters from Africa - Day 7

Saturday, June 23rd, 2012

Today was a busy day. In the morning the academy was packed, fill with students free from school for the weekend. I met a new bass student, taught a clarinetist scale exercises, and sat in on guitar lessons, all before lunch. After eating we began making our way to Pemba High School in the bus-van for a series of performances (we later learned that it was a talent competition). It was incredibly busy when we arrived; almost every seat in the building was taken for most of the night.

Apart from the uniformed "enforcers" carrying switches and the metal gates the auditorium had for doors it seemed like any other high school in the US. Students cheered for their favorite acts, which ranged from a very confusing soap opera to traditional African dance routines.  Overall it was a great show.


Although we have many students at the academy, some of them our age, this night was the first time we were able to spend time in what felt like a familiar context. Besides the language barrier, I felt no different than I would have at any other school assembly. Again I am reminded of how similar we all are as people, as humans. Indeed we are more alike than we are different. As I think about this I can't help but wonder: where does discrimination come from?


For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.

Letters from Africa - Day 6

Friday, June 22nd, 2012

"...'How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.'" -Luke 18:23-25

There is a side to Zambia that everyone ought to see. It is a side that it shares with many other countries on this earth. Yet even so, it goes unseen to many. I am talking about the Mwapona's of the world.

Poetice and Fortress Vision run a program called the 365 Campaign. This campaign identifies children who are orphans or otherwise vulnerable due to circumstances such as poverty, and then seeks to support them where possible. Today we were able to meet some of these children in their own homes, hear their stories, give them words of encouragement, and pray for them. For those who have so little company is an honor, kind words are treasures, and prayer carries real power.

I don't think there's anything that can adequately prepare a soul for a first trip into the third world. It is utterly foreign for us, a different mode of existence. In America, we live to achieve. Here, they live to survive. For the family of one academy student, it means squatting in an unfinished home that doesn't belong to them. Doorways have no doors, windows no glass. A metal roof, walls, and concrete are all that shelter them. The seats offered were a bucket and a few pieces of cinderblock. Vincent, the father, unemployed, barely manages to scrape enough money together to send his kids to school. It's a miracle even he can't understand. For the grandmother of another supported child, it means running a small produce stand, not knowing where to go once she can't afford rent. For yet another it means not being able to afford the cost of traveling to a hospital to have a tumor checked, let alone a surgery, or school, for that matter. These are the poorest of the poor, the "least of these." But in spite of the conditions,  you will find giants hidden in these humble homes.

We all need Christ. We are all nothing without him. It's easy for us to forget that as Westerners. The question of our own survival is not one that we often have to entertain. But Christians get it here. They understand. Beyond faith in Christ and family they have next to nothing. Literally. They do what they can to survive and trust God to provide what they can't. This kind of faith says "It is enough. I have accepted what I have been given by God in life," as Vincent has. Though we came to meet with the poor, we shared company with royalty.


For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.

Letters from Africa - Day 5

Thursday, June 21st, 2012

Today was a day entirely devoted to teaching at the academy, the last of its kind, a day of work and rest. Wednesday brought bombshell after emotional bombshell, and we were all a bit haggard by the time we made it to our beds. Returning to the routine and steady work at the academy was a welcome reprieve. The students are advancing more and more as time passes; already we are becoming fast friends with them.

This day was the kind of day when we remember God's steady blessing, his regular faithfulness. In this day we rest, running with the flow of what feel like well-rehearsed rhythms as they bolster our spirits and lull us into peace.

For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.


Photo collage courtesy of Jared Trudel

Letters from Africa - Day 4

Today I didn't go teach at the academy with the IWU team. Instead I woke up early with Micah, Abby, Jared, and Rachel, two of Poetice's staff and interns. We woke up to witness the drilling of a well, a well that will bring clean water to Siamabele, a village of 200 households. Before this well, the people of siamabele would use water from a nearby dam (loaded with microbes and dangerous to drink) or hike 2 miles to a mission for clean well-water. In Zambia, water is life, and today we had the honor of witnessing water being brought to this village.

Upon arriving at Siamabele we could see the drill, a small tower attached to a truck. Greeted warmly in the Zambia way, we were soon ushered into the house of Stanley, the head man of Shenga, a cluster of 18 or so households where the well was being dug.  We made conversation in his small house before heading back to the drill as it bored long pipes into the ground.  A crowd had gathered, and before long beauty seized the moment: water began shooting out from the drill-hole, fountaining as high as the tower. The Zambians of Siamabele cheered and danced, faces as bright as the morning sun. I have never seen such joy. This was the joy of salvation.  Today the people of Siamabele were given the opportunity to find clean water—to find life—on their own land, near their own homes. This was the hand of God.

And just as God worked through Poetice and Fortress Vision to bring Siamabele life, his presence was revealed in his people. In a service commemorating the digging of the well, a former pastor in Siamabele prayed over our team, praying that "God would open the heavens and rain down blessings greater than this. More blessings." We indeed were blessed as they welcomed us to their food, shared their stories, and sang us on our way when we finally departed. Their joy was our joy, a hum in the handsom silence of Siamabele.

If water is life in Zambia, then family is blood. From the village we drove to Children's Nest in Choma, a place for children who have been bleed dry. In the orphanage, we were not visitors, we were aunties and uncles. Family. We played. We sang. We spoke. We held. For much less time than they deserved, we became love for these children, showing them that they are not abandoned. They are not alone. Money can buy a lot for these kids, but it cannot buy love. What they truly need is more family, more arms to hold them, more people to simply show up and be for them. This love is priceless. It cannot be bought. What you can buy is a plane ticket.

For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.

Letters from Africa - Day 3

Tuesday June 19th, 2012

Tuesday. It's that in-between day that doesn't quite merit the same mentions as its six other siblings.  It's that time when we've gotten past the mondays but still have hump-day to deal with.  For us here in Zambia, it's a bit different.

If Monday was a bonfire, then today has been a bed of hot coals. The excitement and chaos of learning what exactly we're supposed to be doing has burned itself down as we've begun to establish new rhythms. Morning fruit and toast precedes warm greetings from Petronella, the program director and office manager at Fortress Vision, and a bus ride to the academy. The students, having tasted what we hope to teach, are insatiable. We've found ourselves surprised at their progress at every turn, and already we can tell that we need more, since what we've seen is far more than we had imagined or hoped for.

With this has come the realization that there is real need here at the academy. They lack some of the most basic materials that no school in the States would be without. Whether it is a collection of etudes or a simple repair kit, Choma Music Academy has needs that can be solved very feasibly.

Even so, the work we are doing is making a difference. This carries an important lesson. The way this academy is run may be different than what we have in the states, but that doesn't mean it can't produce fruit. This place is alive and growing, and we are simply catalysts for that growth. We are here not to create a new ministry or a new way of thinking. Rather, we are simply trying to further the change that has already begun to take place.

The most profound experience for me today had little to do with the academy itself, however. It was a conversation with Petronella. After teaching a lesson I had some free time, and we talked as we took in the afternoon sun. We talked about family, about church, and about children as her daughter Malele came and went. At one point Petronella said "Malele, why don't you sing for uncle Zach?" I was shocked at being given the title "uncle." As the day wore into the night, the profundity of such a simple gesture made itself fully known. In calling me uncle, she was calling me, a 22-year-old American she has know for 2 days, her brother. As I write I begin to realize that perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. This is the embodiment of the brotherhood that Christ has called us to. We are all of us brothers and sisters, regardless of nationality, race, or background.

I wonder, how often do we think this way wen discussing missions? Do we think of those we are reaching out to as wayward people needing our own special brand of salvation, or as our own flesh and blood who need to be lifted up and supported in their own situations?

For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.

Letters from Africa

This is one of what is going to be a series of letters (to no one in particular) describing the things done, the things learned, and the hopes hoped during my two-weeks work in Zambia with Poetice International.  More to come!



June 18th, 2012
Day 2

C'mon C'mon, a song by Switchfoot, has a line that reads "We will rise on the wings of the dawn, when everything's new."  Well, this morning spread itself wide, full and lean and looking skyward. Today we began our real work.

To begin we loaded up the can that wished it was a bus and trekked out to Fortress Vision's offices. There we toured, there we prayed, there we sang. There the dawn was crowned with blessing, and from there we took flight to our true destination: Choma Music Academy.

In the states, school is either competitive or boring. We spend our thousands going to college and yet we still groan at the prospect of going to class. Both are completely and utterly the opposite in Choma, Zambia. From the very beginning, we could see that these students, who have so little, were incredibly eager for knowledge. The simplest concepts, the tiniest grains of knowledge, every nugget of learning is invaluable to them. They took what we had to give them and ran like the wind, showing improvements at a mind-boggling pace. They don't have spectacular facilities or state-of-the-art equipment. They don't have professors with doctorates. What they have is heart, the kind that groans as the land groans for its final redemption. That, a short-term smattering of college students, and stalwart staff (and by stalwart I mean super-hero material). And yet, they blow us out of the water. Why don't we see this in places like America? The answer: Hope.

I have learned that every grain, every nugget, each last drop of knowledge is hope, hope for a future, hope for excellence, hope for something more than what life has given these students. They need not live with the weight of a shafted existence crushing them in the mud. Music is beauty, and not one that has to be carted in by smiley Westerners. They have it in themselves. God has gifted them in ways that no tragedy can erase. For us, it is miraculous and awe-inspiring. We are not teachers here to instruct through imposition and domination. We are well-diggers. Where life has battered many, tainting the surface waters, we are digging shafts down deep, past the disease, past the deaths, past the oppression and into a deep aquifer of clean water. There our students can draw cool drink, life in the knowledge that they are more than orphans, or refugees, or infected persons; they are children of God, more precious than anything we might hope to gain in this world.

Only one day as passed. We have barely begun, and there is far more waiting to be revealed. We rest now, eager to take up our shovels and buckets as we rise with the flight of the waking light.

For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.