the sky's on fire . . .

. . . is what I was saying to Marieke as I walked into the office and back out again to snap this shot, before its glory had finished setting :-)

what remains

This is what remains of the evening's visit by a hungry lion. What does not remain is one not-quite-fast-enough Puku, or so reported the Zambians who told me about the prints and the marks of the struggle.

flushing froggy

As is customary, I took my morning walk from my room to the Bush Camp shower and toilet house I use. As is also customary, I then used the toilet before hopping in the shower. The bathhouse being dimly lit, I do not generally peer very closely into the toilet bowl, but this time I noticed something there after flushing. I guess the last visitor left a little something here . . . I thought, slightly amused. So I waited a moment and flushed again. Still there. And again. Still there. That’s odd, I thought. This time I bent down and looked closely into the toilet bowl.
Then I laughed.
There looking up at me was a good size bullfrog, toes gripping the sides tightly and an expression of what I perceived as annoyance on his froggy face. Rightly so, for sure. I apologized out loud to him then, for showering him with such a rude morning awakening.
Leaving the toilet cover up this time [it is generally left shut], I was relieved to see that he had left his post by the time I finished my shower, presumably to a more sanitary and suitable habitat.
I was, however, amused to learn later that this does happen regularly, not because they jump into the toilet bowl but rather because they come up through the pipes themselves . . . so maybe he did not escape to such a sanitary abode after all ☺

a birthday "card"

Happy Birthday Helen!
with lots of love, and creative energies, from:
Lara, Eva, Ellen, Annie, & Anna
[in other words, the entire crew of my little one-room-schoolhouse :-)]

weekend visiting

A friend and her little one, during a Sunday spent visiting with her at her home in the village.

for the sake of the blog

You should know that I risked my life for the sake of you blog-readers today . . . this shot led to a charging hippo and to a nearby shout to me of "Just run!!!" I then sheepishly apologized to folks here for ignorance as to the speed capacities of these lumbering creatures, and for causing some quickened heartbeats :-)

another setting

I warned you not to mind multiple sunset shots, did I not? :-) When the school day lasts until around 5:30 these days, I'm afraid a captured sunset is generally all that time remains for. But I dare say, when it looks like this, one could do worse than capturing a setting sun!

the day's greeting

As a way of sending out a festive greeting to you all in my little blogger's world, here is one of the projects from the day's themed art class. It went over well, and prompted a discussion, that warmed my teacher's heart, as to which was each student's favorite out of all our art projects thus far :-)

beautiful relief

Another long and tiring day of teaching is done, and I am intensely grateful for this beautiful close of the day . . . so you will have to have patience with yet another captured sunset :-)

Kimba's first Zambian birthday

Kimba and friends celebrate with the birthday girl. And I learned Ngili Ngindo Maama, Mbela Mbela. Ieee! . . . ["Happy Birthday" in Nyanja].

the setting sun

Another evening of an on-fire sunset I had to capture, after my jaw un-dropped itself :-)

in a while, crocodile

My first croc-in-the-wild sighting since I was a child . . . I was intrigued to discover that my chiildhood fear has not seemed to dissipate with age, as my heartbeat quickened noticeably and I drew a sharp, quick breath when I saw this one :-)

rainy days and mondays

A[nother] day of rain has left me considering how easily things that used to be taken for granted have now become luxury items . . .
Dry clothes and shoes, for instance: the combination of constant rain plus no machine washers or dryers equals an all-pervasive dampness, and occasionally outright drenchedness.
Hot showers are another. My cold shower this morning very nearly didn't phase me; a fact that left me rather proud of myself, as the first few cold showers were quite difficult.
It is a blessing to realize that when life demands adjustments, the grace is given with which to adjust . . . I pray, that is, that I am adjusting gracefully :-)

safari sunset

Last night I went on my first game drive for this time in Zambia. Few of the animals I remembered from childhood drives were out, though we did see several elephants, plenty of kudu and impala, and a Spotted Eagle owl. The highlight of the evening, however, was this view of the waning rainy season sun.

i think that i shall never see . . .

. . . a sight so lovely as a tree . . .
This Baobab has become my favorite nearby tree and I have finally taken the occasion of a free Saturday morning to take a camera-walk.

inadequate expressions

Not having my camera, this is my feeble attempt this evening to capture the peaceful sunset moment I am looking at . . . thanks to Mac photobooth. After an intense day of classroom discipline, time outs, the relief of a return to peace, an intricate science experiment, and all-around adventure of a day, I am intensely grateful for a moment of peaceful African sunset. I also am struck by the deep joy of loving children enough to discipline; it was indescribably meaningful to know today that I was playing a role in the education of these sweet youngsters, and a relief to see that when I am consistent in my firm love for them, they recognize that and respond with great affection . . . the highlight of my day was an apology that came in the form of a tearful hug. At the moment, I was so relieved and so proud of her that it was all I could do to keep from crying myself.

roots

Coming to the country of my father’s resting place could never have prepared me for the apparent grasp-ability of a first visit to his grave.
Here I am, just over one week into my sojourn as a teacher, not connected in the slightest with my childhood roots, and yet I have happened upon quite a close connection.
Finding out my Zambia history, the owner here at the lodge said he thought one of the guides was from that area, and that it may not be very far from here. Sure enough, the next night this guide asked to see me.
His name is Meekson, and he is indeed from my home village. He also returns there every weekend during the dry season, when the trip takes only a day. This man was working for the school where my father taught, and he also went to the church to hear my father preach. The day my parents’ car accident was found, Meekson was involved in handling the crushed vehicle. He described the white car, gesturing to indicate the V-shape that I could picture perfectly from the pictures I saw. He was able to describe Daddy’s grave, and to reassure me of what I’ve always wondered: there is a woman there who has faithfully tended his grave for all these years.
Meekson had me write a letter to the one woman I remembered by name—the other widow of that accident’s fatalities. He knows her as a teacher there, and will see her this next weekend when he goes. She will certainly send a letter back this coming week, he assured me.
My own visit will likely have to wait several months yet, until the rains abate and the roads allow for a manageable length of a trip. But that is alright with me; the knowledge that it is feasible is enough for now.

lion pals

Kimba and his new pal, relaxing after a tiring day of tackling flooding in the schoolhouse, slaying giant centipedes, and trying to get some studies done in the process . . . it's a lion's life :-)

tili bwino

This first full weekend has been spent surrendered to the skilled hands of women in the neighboring village. A new friend, named Blessed, has been hosting me in her hut while the women plait [braid] my hair. I have no idea what their plan is with my hair, but they clearly do; they are chattering contentedly and occasionally interjecting an English praise of how “Beautiful!” it will be. I have no doubt it will, judging from their own lovely plaits and striking beauty. I have been gazing at them in wonder, amazed by their multitasking hands and mesmerized by their stunning features.
What is also amazing to me is how quick they have all been to shower me with hospitality, freely sharing the precious little that they have. It is humbling to have only small trinkets to give them in return.
This weekend has included my first nshima meal for this time in Zambia; it brought back comforting memories of childhood meals, and tasted just as I remembered it. The experience held also an oddly spiritual dimension. Blessed’s instructions of “Wash,” “Take,” “Let us pray,” and “Let us eat” felt much like a communion supper. We ate quietly, taking bits of nshima from the shared bowl and eating each bite with a piece of chicken. It was good—very good.
And when we were “satisfied,” more women filtered back in to join in with the plaiting. In the process, babies were nursed, crying children tended to, and hungry toddlers fed bananas. “Muli basanji?” a passerby asks. “Tili bwino,” we reply. How are you? We are fine.
It is a sweet privilege to be welcomed into this community . . . fine. Yes, we are fine.

how do we know

It is a frightening thing to be in charge of the mental formation of three young minds. It is a terrifying thing to be entrusted with their spiritual education!
How ever-so-humbling it was to sit by Eva, preoccupied by a simple social studies lesson, when this thoughtful nine-year-old suddenly thrust at me the most difficult of spiritual dilemmas: “But how can we know that Christianity is true? If there are so many religions, how do we know ours is right?”
As we were in the midst of a lesson on the main religions of Zambia, it was a logical line of reasoning in one sense. But I was nonetheless floored, having never before explained my coming-to-terms about this issue to such a young and impressionable mind. In that moment, watching this furrowed brow and intensely thoughtful young face, I was as certain as I could be that this was a moment of great significance, now and for eternity. I was awed by its realness and honored to be allowed to participate in it.
Somehow, in the midst of my own uncertainty, I was able to put words to an explanation that seemed to satisfy her reasonably well. Eva nodded and, with a thoughtful “Hmm . . . ok,” returned to her lesson. And I spent the rest of the day somewhat dumbstruck with reverent wonder.
May I live in such a way as to be open to moments such as these, and may I never lose the humility that allows me to see how unworthy I am to receive them!