Letters from Africa - Day 12: Epilogue

Thursday, June 28th, 2012

To me, today is the beginning of an epilogue, the last moments of a story before the book finally runs out of pages. We didn't do anything groundbreaking or exciting; today was simply an ending of things. After packing all of our gera, clothes, and newly-acquired swag, we made our way to the Academy for one last visit. There was no music or teaching today. We simply sat with the students, Maxwell, and Richmond, saying our thank-yous, telling stories, and praying blessings over the team, the students, and the academy. It was the epitome of the long goodbye, with hundreds of pictures being taken and hugs given.

Needless to say it was a long time before we loaded into the min van-bus to begin the four hour drive to Lusaka, our last adventure in Zambia. We made a few stops along the way.  Once we stopped at a roadside produce market. We had hardly stopped moving when the bus was bombarded by banana venders whose marketing strategy is to shove fruit in each and every open window of the vehicle.  Another time we hit an especially large bump and had to rescue a suitcase that had flown off the trailer. Our final stop was in Lusaka, arguably the most urban place we've visited in Zambia. We stopped at a grocery store to grab some Zambian foodstuffs before dinner at Food Fayre, our last meal in the country. It seemed like we had just loaded the van-bus for the last time when we got out in front of the airport, grabbed our stuff, and said our final farewells to our drivers, Moses and Rogers, and Petronellah, probably the best hostess one could ask for. The next hour or so was a blur. Check-in. Security. Gate. Tarmac. Safety procedures. Full thrust. Pull on the yoke. Farewell, Zambia.

It's a little strange, heading back to the States. I think Michael Flanagin said it best: "We're happy to go home, but sad that we have to leave." No more Zambian time. No more rides in the jank van-bus-whatever. No more "Ga Mwamba"s for introductions. No more morning greetings from Petronellah. No more bream carcasses or nshima-hands. No more lessons at the academy. We're leaving a lot behind.

Even so, we're bringing a lot home with us as well. We came to Choma to teach, but we were students just as much as everyone else who came to the academy.  We taught music, but these Zambians taught us the power of determination and the ability to accomplish great things even with so little. They taught us that a broken spirit is not a dead one, that joy is not dependent on wealth or status, and that good hospitality can be practiced no matter what you have to offer a guest. They taught us what it means to be wholly dependent on God.

It is for this reason that I think everyone needs to experience this kind of trip. There is so much to learn beyond the familiar, beyond our own understanding of how life works and how it ought to be. If we as people are willing to go, to reach out beyond the familiar with open hearts and minds, to fill needs on the terms of the needy, then we will be far better people for it. This I think is the hidden second half of Poetice's mission: that we might learn through these short-term missions how to be better servants for the long-term.

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

Letters from Africa - Day 11.5

Wednesday, June 27th, 2012

16:00-23:00

We left Livingstone in a hurry, doing some last-minute haggling and scarfing fast-food chicken and fries in the bus-van. Since our concert at the Sun Hotel was cancelled the night before, Richmond scheduled another concert for 18:00 today in Choma. None of us were really looking forward to it. We were all tired from the game drive, the falls, and the market, having gone non-stop since 7 in the morning. The fact that we were late didn't help our nerves either. By the time we made it to Choma Secondary School, we were behind schedule by over half an hour. Even in Zambian time, our tardiness made us feel rushed and agitated. To add to the tension, the power had gone out at the school; our only light came from a bunch of LED lanters that Richmond had strung up, barely enough for the musicians to read their music. After quickly cobbling together a concert order, we began our concert.

This could have been the beginning of a bad night, but things have a wonderful way of simply working out on this trip.  By the end of the frist song all of the tension and anxiety had melted away. The time didn't matter anymore; the music had taken over.  Even the lighting situation, which was a hassle at first, lent a feeling of beauty and intimacy, as if this were a concert by candlelight. Everyone from both the team and the academy performed well, I for one playing one of the best sax solos of my life. By the end, the audience was eager to give a standing ovation, and many thanked us personally once it had all concluded. What we had begun as a stressful evening became the most joyous of our stay in Zambia, and there could have been no better way to spend our last one here. We spent the last hours of the night debriefing as a team, reflecting on what we had seen, done, and what we are to do once we arrive home.

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 11.0

Wednesday, June 27th, 2012

07:00-16:00

"Ascribe to the Lord, O heavenly beings, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength. Ascribe to the Lord the glory of his name; worship the Lord in holy spendor. The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord, over mighty waters. The voice of the Lord is powerful; the vocie of the Lord is full of majesty" -Psalm 29:1-4

There are many things to do in Livingstone, Zambia, and we did many. We took our van/bus hybrid through the game park, checked out some crocs and deadly snakes at the crocodile farm, and haggled our way into some Zambian swag at the open market. We all had a good time at each, but none of these compared to Victoria Falls

Every now and again we get to experience something that screams of God's glory. Familiar things for me are flawless night skies, the mountains in Montana, and the sunsets over Lake Michigan and the Pacific. Seeing Victoria Falls trumps everything I've experienced so far. There is a moment on those stone paths past the guard post and trees when the world suddenly drops away and there is the sound of thunder. This first glimpse of the falls is incredible. To the right you see the Zambezi's waters roaring past slabs of rock and falling hundreds of feet into the gorge, the distant pools visible at the bottom. On the left are cliffs, great walls like dark slate made glassy as they are bathed in water forced skyward by the sheer force of the falls. The path to the right takes you to the top of the falls. There the river turns to rapids before hurling itself over the brink. I lost a sandal while dipping my feet into the rushing waters and watched it disappear, a bit of America lost to the Falls.

The other path winds along the cliffs opposing the falls, the trees breaking at various points to offer a better view. Here along the tops of onyx-dark rock one begins to grasp—or rather lose their grasp—of how vast the falls really are. At a couple of points I left the safety of the stone path and guard rails to stand a few feet away from the edge.With no rail to hold or safety net, a bottomless void yawning in front of me, drenched by mist and rain forced up the cliff face, and hundreds of feet of thundering water filling my vision, Victoria Falls boomed out "majesty!" and "magnificence!" The sheer vastness and power of this spectacle can't be fathomed as a whole when one stands right in front of it; on can only take in parts of it at a time. There at the brink I caught a glimpse of God's glory, his incomprehensible vastness and majesty. We all left the falls in the same way, soaked through with water and awe.

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 10

Tuesday, June 26th, 2012

As I've been writing these letters I've realized that the majority of them have been a bit heavy. Much of this trip has been dealing with much of the heaviness found here in Zambia, so I've been trying to identify and describe those moments. Thankfully, this is not all that Zambia is, far from it in fact. As crushing as the weight of the disease and poverty is, Zambia is also a place of great joy and laughter. There have been plenty of both on this trip, especially today. So for now, I'll touch a bit on the lighter side of our trip.

First of all, the food is awesome. We've had chicken, pasta, loads of different greens, goat (some of us), fish, and the ever-present nshima. My favorite would have to be the fish, or a fish, to be more accurate. One of the more popular dishes at restaurants is a whole bream fish on your plate. It's gutted and cooked and perfectly fine to eat, but there's something unnerving about having a wide-eyed, open-mouthed creature lying on your plate with someone telling you to eat it. Once you've finally worked up the gumption to pull a piece of meat off the bone though, all doubt disappears. Bream is delicious, and I don't think any of us have qualms about tearing those fish apart until they're piles of fin and bone. This is all done with your bare hands, by the way. Most Zambian meals are, with the ubiquitous nshima mashed in the hand and used as an edible, makeshift spoon. It's a chance to back to high-chairs and play dough, so I'm not complaining

If there's anything I could complain about, it's this: I could've used more bros on this trip, especially today. I think every guy needs to experience an extended trip with 6 girls for company. You will learn to appreciate your brother, and you will learn both how fun and how maddening (sometimes mostly maddening) it is to be the only male with a crew of she-gigglers.

I was in this situation because Abby and Jared had to head to Lusaka (Jared, our token Australian, lost his green card) for an appointment at the US embassy. That left me and Michael "The Professor" Flanagin as the only males to accompany the rest of our team to Livingstone. Don't get me wrong, these are a lovely bunch of ladies. Once the Hannah Cannon starts firing and the vocal major starts gut-busting, however, you're in for a long, loud, and lasting laughter session. Most of the chuckle-inducing content had a more subdued effect for the male psyche. After a two-hour ride in the struggle-bus and dinner at a public pizza place everyone was a bit loopy, the sessions lasting longer and longer. It was a good time, but I was definitely glad when Jared made it back to the hotel.

We spent the rest of the night relaxing in our room, the benefit concert we were supposed to put on being cancelled. Although disappointing, it was nice to have a reprieve from performances. In the morning we are tourists, venturing out to the game park and Victoria Falls.

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 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.