Already into the second month of the new year 2011! And today, Thursday the 11th is the 40th birthday of daughter Darlene. My sister Delight will remember that birth day as she got all rattled—wanting to make tuna sandwiches to take to the hospital and chastising brother Chris for showing up with no sox on. What a little darling—the new born with dark curly hair and a perfect little body. Husband Charlie bursting with pride. My Mom and Dad off in Africa, a long time before the quick communication we have today with email and Facebook!
Now I’m in Africa and so is Delight as I write. She’s back in Congo for a three-week visit while I’m in residence in Zimbabwe, beginning my eighth year with Jim and hoping for many more. We seem to be in our own time warp as far as communication goes. For most of these years we’ve had email at home, but since December we’ve had to invade son-in-law Bowen’s computer workshop to get on the Broadband. We’re not far to town but we try to do emails twice a week so we don’t wear out our welcome at the busy shop. So Facebook is neglected BIG TIME!
This week Monday a long awaited order arrived—our new lounge suite. Jim and I had been looking for months for a good chair for him and a three-seater couch. They told me at the shops that Zimbabwe didn’t make the three-seaters any more. What is popular are the big overstuffed love seats that dominate the lounge, large or small! But we found what we wanted in a shop that brings in goods from South Africa. . It was already marked SOLD. So we had to wait until another came in. It didn’t but we found one in Bulawayo in the same chain of shops. Two weeks later it arrived in Gweru but the shop hadn’t received its allocation of diesel for delivery. And then it arrived in our home on Monday!
On Tuesday 3 ½ year old granddaughter Megan came home with us for a visit. When she noticed the new suite, she immediately protests. “I want the blue [set]. Take this one back to the shop!” But later she patted the sofa, saying, “This is nice.”
Wednesday we were out to Antelope Park for a day at the Pastors and Leaders Retreat. The Park is a game reserve that specializes in birthing lions and preparing them again for the wild. You can walk with the lion cubs (about two years old and anything but cub-ish!) or feed the cubs. Right outside the meeting place in a fenced in area we were charmed by a very small cub just twice the size of a Lab pup who was climbing the gate, very determined to explore beyond. His head and shoulders were through the opening, and he was moaning in little yelps. Like the little train that could, “I can make it. I can make it.” But a park ranger came along and brought his efforts to naught.
A lovely day at the Park. Good food and fellowship. Three speakers in tandem: Henry, a local pastor and host of the Retreat; Bill, a visitor from South Africa who grew up in Zimbabwe, and Jim, particularly, appreciated his teaching on the five-fold ministry [apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers]; and Dr. Michelle who teaches that no disease is incurable and talks fluently about the good chemicals released in the body when we walk in repentance, love and forgiveness. Laughter, she also emphasized, is good medicine, and we proved her point with twitters to belly laughs in our visiting together.
My role as Zim Coordinator for Team Impact University can be very absorbing on some days. That’s when we have ZESA (electricity) so I can scan in documents for students applying for degrees and write up the emails to take to town. There’s two Bible Colleges ready to begin as soon as the manuals are transmitted by email: Baptist School of Ministry and our own Riverside Bible College. We’re neck-and-neck with just about a dozen students each. We had hoped to open in late January but the now, now so easily promised here in Zim often stretches into weeks if not months! Word-of-mouth and the website is bringing in some good response.
The book for Emmanuel Missions at Lalapanzi is proceeding. Director Gert had me interviewing some of his people when we were out there last week. Jim will be teaching at their Bible college every other Monday, so I’ll be on-site often in the days ahead. Jim’s nephew John who lives in the American Northwest has created a website for the orphan and elderly branch of the Mission. You can view it at Ebenezer Refuge.
A reason to rejoice! It’s 7:40 on a Friday morning and we still have ZESA!
Friday, February 11, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
NEW ASSIGNMENTS
November 2010 will go down in our personal history as a bit of a blur. That includes three trips to Mater Dei Hospital in Bulawayo when son-in-law Bowen pressed hard on the petrol pedal and we arrived in record-breaking time. Jim’s cellulitis on his right leg was making a big time comeback. He spent ten days in the hospital while we begged lodging from an American missionary couple. We returned to Gweru a few days in the middle to take care of some business.
But that isn’t really the beginning. Jim had marked November as a red-letter month because Dennis Evans, his good friend of more than forty years, was coming to Zimbabwe. They had last been together in 2003. Since then Dennis and his family had migrated to the U.K, finding a home right on the border to Scotland. Dennis arrived on Friday afternoon but during the Sunday worship, Jim made the announcements and then disappeared. He was going back to the keyboard when a violent wave of sickness came over him. He found one of the men to take him home, and he was miserably sick through Wednesday. The flu left but the cellulitis kicked in.
It did give Dennis and me a good opportunity to become acquainted. Dennis was brimming over with enthusiasm for Team Impact University. He had come to South Africa to attend a conference and graduation, celebrating nine years of TIU in South Africa. Dennis had run an in-church school himself before he left for the U.K. Now he had been selected to introduce TIU to the U.K. Well, he ended up introducing it to Zimbabwe, too. The concept of training your own people in Christian ministry caught fire in my heart, and I was able to introduce Dennis to some local pastors who also embraced the idea.
Team Impact University provides the manuals and sometime along the way a representative will come to preside over a graduation. Because of the hard years Zimbabwe has been experiencing TIU agreed to substantially lower the fees for the programs which include a Certificate in Ministry, Diploma in Ministry, Bachelor’s Degree, Master’s Degree and Doctorate—all accredited by a worldwide Christian accrediting body. A person can progress from Certificate to Doctorate in a six-year period with high motivation and self-discipline.
We’ve named our venture Riverside Bible College, which reflects the name of the suburb where our church is located. We hope to begin classes in late January, meeting one night a week and covering three courses concurrently. There are ten courses each in the first two programs. The church will provide a facilitator for each class to go over the material, answer questions and encourage discussion.
And, guess what I get to do? Dennis has asked me to be the Coordinator for Zimbabwe. He is the Overseer. TIU is operating in all the countries bordering Zim, but this is the first open door into our country. As Coordinator I am basically an office through which we handle publicity, recruitment, registration of students, etc. The potential is high because the pastors, just to name one group, hungry for more Christian education, and TIU also is on a practical , doable level for lay people in the church. So I am excited and highly motivated! Start small. Think big.
That’s the first assignment.
Hint of another big one came about a week ago when Gert Olivier at Emmanuel Mission in Lalapanzi (about 30K East of Gweru) called. He, too, was bursting with his own project. He’s been writing down his thoughts and memories regarding the Mission since its beginning, and he’s asking me to edit the information into a small booklet, or possibly something bigger. It’s a story of adversity over many years but also accounts of miracles. To tell the truth, it’s a story I’ve wanted to write since my first visit out to the Mission in 2003 as I listened to Gert’s passionate telling of Mission “doings” over the dinner table.
That’s the second assignment.
Looks like I’m following in the footsteps of granddaughter Megan who says she’s “very busy” as she scrubs the front stoop with a small rag, irons clothes with an unplugged iron or loads a plastic bag with all the items on our buffet cabinet. Some of us have to keep this world going around!
But that isn’t really the beginning. Jim had marked November as a red-letter month because Dennis Evans, his good friend of more than forty years, was coming to Zimbabwe. They had last been together in 2003. Since then Dennis and his family had migrated to the U.K, finding a home right on the border to Scotland. Dennis arrived on Friday afternoon but during the Sunday worship, Jim made the announcements and then disappeared. He was going back to the keyboard when a violent wave of sickness came over him. He found one of the men to take him home, and he was miserably sick through Wednesday. The flu left but the cellulitis kicked in.
It did give Dennis and me a good opportunity to become acquainted. Dennis was brimming over with enthusiasm for Team Impact University. He had come to South Africa to attend a conference and graduation, celebrating nine years of TIU in South Africa. Dennis had run an in-church school himself before he left for the U.K. Now he had been selected to introduce TIU to the U.K. Well, he ended up introducing it to Zimbabwe, too. The concept of training your own people in Christian ministry caught fire in my heart, and I was able to introduce Dennis to some local pastors who also embraced the idea.
Team Impact University provides the manuals and sometime along the way a representative will come to preside over a graduation. Because of the hard years Zimbabwe has been experiencing TIU agreed to substantially lower the fees for the programs which include a Certificate in Ministry, Diploma in Ministry, Bachelor’s Degree, Master’s Degree and Doctorate—all accredited by a worldwide Christian accrediting body. A person can progress from Certificate to Doctorate in a six-year period with high motivation and self-discipline.
We’ve named our venture Riverside Bible College, which reflects the name of the suburb where our church is located. We hope to begin classes in late January, meeting one night a week and covering three courses concurrently. There are ten courses each in the first two programs. The church will provide a facilitator for each class to go over the material, answer questions and encourage discussion.
And, guess what I get to do? Dennis has asked me to be the Coordinator for Zimbabwe. He is the Overseer. TIU is operating in all the countries bordering Zim, but this is the first open door into our country. As Coordinator I am basically an office through which we handle publicity, recruitment, registration of students, etc. The potential is high because the pastors, just to name one group, hungry for more Christian education, and TIU also is on a practical , doable level for lay people in the church. So I am excited and highly motivated! Start small. Think big.
That’s the first assignment.
Hint of another big one came about a week ago when Gert Olivier at Emmanuel Mission in Lalapanzi (about 30K East of Gweru) called. He, too, was bursting with his own project. He’s been writing down his thoughts and memories regarding the Mission since its beginning, and he’s asking me to edit the information into a small booklet, or possibly something bigger. It’s a story of adversity over many years but also accounts of miracles. To tell the truth, it’s a story I’ve wanted to write since my first visit out to the Mission in 2003 as I listened to Gert’s passionate telling of Mission “doings” over the dinner table.
That’s the second assignment.
Looks like I’m following in the footsteps of granddaughter Megan who says she’s “very busy” as she scrubs the front stoop with a small rag, irons clothes with an unplugged iron or loads a plastic bag with all the items on our buffet cabinet. Some of us have to keep this world going around!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
A MODEST PROPOSAL
…with apologies to Jonathan Swift and his writing under the same title about the terrible plight of the poor children in 18th century Ireland. Let me give the title a positive twist in the Third World setting of Emmanuel Fellowship Church in 21st century Zimbabwe:
Our church kitchen is basically a 12’ x 12’ square with 21” of counter, stove, refrigerator hugging all four walls. The remaining floor space is quickly crowded when four to six women tackle the serving and cleanup for a tea or church meal. So, when a gift of $2000 came in designated for kitchen remodeling, I was very pleased.
But before we could get started we were caught in a Sunday school space bind. Or should I say “opportunity”? For a long time we’ve had one teacher and the children lumped together in what we called Children’s Church. Then we added a class for Youth and more recently a class for Beginners. Once they met in the church hall but now each class is tucked away into their own classroom, and we are utilizing some rooms that have been standing empty.
Empty because during years of hyperinflation church finances didn’t stretch to upkeep but just to keeping afloat. Once we opened up the rooms, we clearly saw the need for some TLC (tender loving care). We replaced skirting (mopboard) that had been eaten by the ants. Ceiling boards sagging and stained by a leaking roof were replaced and/or repainted. And the walls are on a when-we-can-do-it schedule for repainting.
And then we turned to the kitchen. It’s been so liberating and even exhilarating to be doing something positive and not just marking time. And Jim has been caught up in the possibilities as much as I am. It was his idea to knock out the wall between the kitchen and the next room which had become a catchall room. Also, his idea to take shelving above the refrigerator, divide in into two and place above the serving counter. The ladies love this as we no longer need to call the men in to take cups off the shelves.
The initial $2000 has doubled and should cover materials and labor for the plumber, electrician, carpenter, welder, tile layer and demolition crew. Red, who works for us and also cleans the church, is acting as Foreman, which includes hiring. That’s how we’ve met Timos and Calvin, who done the carpenter-related tasks. Another crew came in for the kitchen wall and tiling. We ask for a quote on each job before work commences.
The workmen quote for labor and include a list of needed supplies. We would go to town to pick up materials. At first we would shop around because prices vary wildly. When I say “we” I really mean Red. Sometimes Timos and Calvin rode along so the right items and sizes were purchased. Most of the building suppliers didn’t deal in change, and so we were given pens, bulbs, exercise books, toothbrushes, etc. for anything short of a dollar.
No one supplier had everything, and so the men often went from shop to shop to find a particular screw or type of nail. A trip to town (approximately 1 ½ kilometers) was never quick. Under an hour was quick but trips often took two hours and more. Looking, for instance, for a shop that would cut a board. They wanted to seal the whole board for $50, and so we went behind the shops to a place that would cut a board to our size for $18. We paid for the board and took the receipt. It wouldn’t be ready that day, but we could come back the next morning at 8:30. Well, we made four trips over four days before we had the board.
Just to give an idea of prices: We used 16 boxes of tile purchased for $17 each and labor at $280 for the enlarged kitchen and two small toilets/hallway. That’s approximately 34 square yards of floor space, and only one tile and bits and pieces leftover. We paid $111 for 30 meters of rexine (benching fabric—a heavy oil cloth bought at two different shops because neither shop had enough fabric on hand) and $150 in labor to recover about 15 benches with cushioned seats and back rests, recovered for the first time since they were created for the church 40 years ago.
We need curtain material now for the kitchen windows, but there’s nothing suitable or desirable in the Gweru shops. One of our ladies will sew up the curtains and do a beautiful job, but we’ll have to make a trip to Bulawayo (1 ½ to 2 hours driving time) one day to shop for fabric. There’s other things still to purchase such as formica for the countertops, but what we’ll be buying the most in the coming weeks is paint and more paint to put the finishing touch on all these now beautiful recycled rooms.
All this has been happening in the month of October, and it’s been a time of joy in seeing such good progress. Some frustration, too, when some things take longer than you wanted. And it’s another lesson in patience. Some things can’t be done when there’s no electricity which happens on an irregular unknown–to-use schedule. And once you start such big projects you find there’s more and more to be done, but you limit yourself to financial and time realities and save some tasks for another day.
The churches physical improvement has been an item for prayer for the last two years. Our modest proposal to improve the kitchen is the third positive step; the first two were some cement repairs outside the church and a refurbishing of the playground. We thank God not only for the funds but for the able and resourceful Red, Timos, Calvin and others.
Our church kitchen is basically a 12’ x 12’ square with 21” of counter, stove, refrigerator hugging all four walls. The remaining floor space is quickly crowded when four to six women tackle the serving and cleanup for a tea or church meal. So, when a gift of $2000 came in designated for kitchen remodeling, I was very pleased.
But before we could get started we were caught in a Sunday school space bind. Or should I say “opportunity”? For a long time we’ve had one teacher and the children lumped together in what we called Children’s Church. Then we added a class for Youth and more recently a class for Beginners. Once they met in the church hall but now each class is tucked away into their own classroom, and we are utilizing some rooms that have been standing empty.
Empty because during years of hyperinflation church finances didn’t stretch to upkeep but just to keeping afloat. Once we opened up the rooms, we clearly saw the need for some TLC (tender loving care). We replaced skirting (mopboard) that had been eaten by the ants. Ceiling boards sagging and stained by a leaking roof were replaced and/or repainted. And the walls are on a when-we-can-do-it schedule for repainting.
And then we turned to the kitchen. It’s been so liberating and even exhilarating to be doing something positive and not just marking time. And Jim has been caught up in the possibilities as much as I am. It was his idea to knock out the wall between the kitchen and the next room which had become a catchall room. Also, his idea to take shelving above the refrigerator, divide in into two and place above the serving counter. The ladies love this as we no longer need to call the men in to take cups off the shelves.
The initial $2000 has doubled and should cover materials and labor for the plumber, electrician, carpenter, welder, tile layer and demolition crew. Red, who works for us and also cleans the church, is acting as Foreman, which includes hiring. That’s how we’ve met Timos and Calvin, who done the carpenter-related tasks. Another crew came in for the kitchen wall and tiling. We ask for a quote on each job before work commences.
The workmen quote for labor and include a list of needed supplies. We would go to town to pick up materials. At first we would shop around because prices vary wildly. When I say “we” I really mean Red. Sometimes Timos and Calvin rode along so the right items and sizes were purchased. Most of the building suppliers didn’t deal in change, and so we were given pens, bulbs, exercise books, toothbrushes, etc. for anything short of a dollar.
No one supplier had everything, and so the men often went from shop to shop to find a particular screw or type of nail. A trip to town (approximately 1 ½ kilometers) was never quick. Under an hour was quick but trips often took two hours and more. Looking, for instance, for a shop that would cut a board. They wanted to seal the whole board for $50, and so we went behind the shops to a place that would cut a board to our size for $18. We paid for the board and took the receipt. It wouldn’t be ready that day, but we could come back the next morning at 8:30. Well, we made four trips over four days before we had the board.
Just to give an idea of prices: We used 16 boxes of tile purchased for $17 each and labor at $280 for the enlarged kitchen and two small toilets/hallway. That’s approximately 34 square yards of floor space, and only one tile and bits and pieces leftover. We paid $111 for 30 meters of rexine (benching fabric—a heavy oil cloth bought at two different shops because neither shop had enough fabric on hand) and $150 in labor to recover about 15 benches with cushioned seats and back rests, recovered for the first time since they were created for the church 40 years ago.
We need curtain material now for the kitchen windows, but there’s nothing suitable or desirable in the Gweru shops. One of our ladies will sew up the curtains and do a beautiful job, but we’ll have to make a trip to Bulawayo (1 ½ to 2 hours driving time) one day to shop for fabric. There’s other things still to purchase such as formica for the countertops, but what we’ll be buying the most in the coming weeks is paint and more paint to put the finishing touch on all these now beautiful recycled rooms.
All this has been happening in the month of October, and it’s been a time of joy in seeing such good progress. Some frustration, too, when some things take longer than you wanted. And it’s another lesson in patience. Some things can’t be done when there’s no electricity which happens on an irregular unknown–to-use schedule. And once you start such big projects you find there’s more and more to be done, but you limit yourself to financial and time realities and save some tasks for another day.
The churches physical improvement has been an item for prayer for the last two years. Our modest proposal to improve the kitchen is the third positive step; the first two were some cement repairs outside the church and a refurbishing of the playground. We thank God not only for the funds but for the able and resourceful Red, Timos, Calvin and others.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
CHASING THE ONIONS
You can’t buy them in Zimbabwe. French Fried Onions (FFO). For this old Yankee the FFO paints a nostalgic picture of the Green Bean Casserole at Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter family dinners.
My sister Delight started the ball rolling a year or so ago when she sent the makings for the casserole. A big hit with our guests at the pastor’s Sunday dinner. (also, a bit of fun to arouse a hint of envy in the heart of Theresa , an American missionary living across the alley from us, and a delighted chuckle when Debbie at Sunday dinner exclaimed quite loudly as her husband took a second helping).
As I said, you can’t buy the FFO here in Gweru nor have I seen them in South Africa. So I requested another supply from my sister. Just the FFO, because we can buy the mushroom soup and green beans here. I even add water chestnuts for an extra crunch. On September 1, Delight obliges. It’s about five weeks on the average from her post office in Los Banos, CA, to our post office in Gweru. On Tuesday, October 5, I get an ominous-looking envelope in our post box. Brown with no stamps. It shouts “government”!
Not thinking FFO, my heart skips a bit. Maybe it’s a notice that my second level of residency has been approved. It’s three years for your first work permit, another three years for the renewal, and a final three years to establish residency. It took two years for the first level to come through, and I actually have until February to make it two years for the next level approval to come through. Jim is hoping they’ll just go ahead and offer the permanent residency on the second level.
The brown envelope contains a slip telling us they are holding a package which requires a permit from the Department of Agriculture for importing onions. And I remembered my request for FFO. Just a simple misunderstanding, I reason. All they have to do is open the package.
We take the slip to the place where we pick up packages. We want to tell them to open the package, which they sometimes do when there is a question, but they say come back tomorrow at 11 when the customs lady is there or better yet go over to the government center and see her in her office.
Red (the fellow who’s worked about 30 years for Jim) and I show up at 11 but we’re already too late. Go to the government center, they say. So we do. Someone directs us to the right office, but she’s not there. Probably at the customs building a few blocks away. We miss her there. She’s at the post office, they say. But she isn’t. We miss her again. Try again in the afternoon or come again in the morning. 9 a.m.
We do get her at the customs building the next day. I explain that we’re talking about a condiment used in a casserole. I even have a picture of the casserole. And I tell them, it tastes really good. They laugh with me. Open the package, I urge her, and you’ll see these are not onion plants but processed onions in a can. She says meet her at the post office at 10 a.m. on Thursday. I can’t do that because we have a Pastors’ Tea at our house at 10. Could Red come in my place? Yes, that will be okay.
Red heads to town, about 2 kilometers. It’s a waiting game again but finally after 11 he connects with the customs lady at the post office. She opens the package and is satisfied. Red brings the package home. I see on the customs slip that Delight has written in bold ink ONIONS/CANS. The second part was blurred but the first part bold and beautiful. So it was just an easily misunderstood wrong assumption, but we have four beautiful cans of FFO. This Sunday we’ll have the Green Been Casserole, thanks to Delight and the customs lady in Gweru.
Nine around the table for Sunday dinner. Good fellowship and the food good, too. And I think of the difference between Third World and First World. How often do we get bent out of shape when we don’t get what we want when we want it. Here in Gweru we wait five or six weeks to receive a package, but I can remember as kids in the Congo that we would wait up to six months. My Grandma Erickson would often include homemade fudge in a package, and it would be looking a bit old by the time we received it. We ate it anyway—every crumb.
Or the urge to become impatient with Third World bureaucracy. It’s not worth it or worthy of us to be demanding or impatient. And it all works out with nobody fussed. And I like that about life over here. You’re not so much in a hurry that you can’t give respect to someone who has this little bit of control over your life. And it works—at least 76 percent of the time!
My sister Delight started the ball rolling a year or so ago when she sent the makings for the casserole. A big hit with our guests at the pastor’s Sunday dinner. (also, a bit of fun to arouse a hint of envy in the heart of Theresa , an American missionary living across the alley from us, and a delighted chuckle when Debbie at Sunday dinner exclaimed quite loudly as her husband took a second helping).
As I said, you can’t buy the FFO here in Gweru nor have I seen them in South Africa. So I requested another supply from my sister. Just the FFO, because we can buy the mushroom soup and green beans here. I even add water chestnuts for an extra crunch. On September 1, Delight obliges. It’s about five weeks on the average from her post office in Los Banos, CA, to our post office in Gweru. On Tuesday, October 5, I get an ominous-looking envelope in our post box. Brown with no stamps. It shouts “government”!
Not thinking FFO, my heart skips a bit. Maybe it’s a notice that my second level of residency has been approved. It’s three years for your first work permit, another three years for the renewal, and a final three years to establish residency. It took two years for the first level to come through, and I actually have until February to make it two years for the next level approval to come through. Jim is hoping they’ll just go ahead and offer the permanent residency on the second level.
The brown envelope contains a slip telling us they are holding a package which requires a permit from the Department of Agriculture for importing onions. And I remembered my request for FFO. Just a simple misunderstanding, I reason. All they have to do is open the package.
We take the slip to the place where we pick up packages. We want to tell them to open the package, which they sometimes do when there is a question, but they say come back tomorrow at 11 when the customs lady is there or better yet go over to the government center and see her in her office.
Red (the fellow who’s worked about 30 years for Jim) and I show up at 11 but we’re already too late. Go to the government center, they say. So we do. Someone directs us to the right office, but she’s not there. Probably at the customs building a few blocks away. We miss her there. She’s at the post office, they say. But she isn’t. We miss her again. Try again in the afternoon or come again in the morning. 9 a.m.
We do get her at the customs building the next day. I explain that we’re talking about a condiment used in a casserole. I even have a picture of the casserole. And I tell them, it tastes really good. They laugh with me. Open the package, I urge her, and you’ll see these are not onion plants but processed onions in a can. She says meet her at the post office at 10 a.m. on Thursday. I can’t do that because we have a Pastors’ Tea at our house at 10. Could Red come in my place? Yes, that will be okay.
Red heads to town, about 2 kilometers. It’s a waiting game again but finally after 11 he connects with the customs lady at the post office. She opens the package and is satisfied. Red brings the package home. I see on the customs slip that Delight has written in bold ink ONIONS/CANS. The second part was blurred but the first part bold and beautiful. So it was just an easily misunderstood wrong assumption, but we have four beautiful cans of FFO. This Sunday we’ll have the Green Been Casserole, thanks to Delight and the customs lady in Gweru.
Nine around the table for Sunday dinner. Good fellowship and the food good, too. And I think of the difference between Third World and First World. How often do we get bent out of shape when we don’t get what we want when we want it. Here in Gweru we wait five or six weeks to receive a package, but I can remember as kids in the Congo that we would wait up to six months. My Grandma Erickson would often include homemade fudge in a package, and it would be looking a bit old by the time we received it. We ate it anyway—every crumb.
Or the urge to become impatient with Third World bureaucracy. It’s not worth it or worthy of us to be demanding or impatient. And it all works out with nobody fussed. And I like that about life over here. You’re not so much in a hurry that you can’t give respect to someone who has this little bit of control over your life. And it works—at least 76 percent of the time!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
COME, YE DISCONSOLATE
Thomas Moore knew well how to express pathos in poetic terms back there in the late 1700-1800s. Disconsolate: cast down in spirit, utterly dejected. Certainly, there are days here in modern Zimbabwe when we’re more closely akin to the 18th than 21st century!
The hymn Come, Ye Disconsolate popped into my mind this week on the fourth day of ZESA (Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority) cuts, 12 hours or more per day. We sleep with a fan above our bed. Monday it eases into a full stop at 6 a.m.; Tuesday and Wednesday at 5:17 a.m.; and Thursday at 5:21 a.m. Twelve to fourteen hours later ZESA switches on again. And we are charged for this disruptive service a monthly fee usually exceeding $80 U.S.
Thursday morning hit me hard. [ZESA off at 9 a.m. and on again at 3 p.m. on Friday. On all day Saturday until 5 to 7 p.m., and now it’s Sunday morning and who knows what’s in store, except over 20 people over after church for a braai (barbeque)]. The monotony of four days in a row with at least 12 hours without ZESA.
So, I am feeling a bit down but we broke our fourth day routine with a morning at church looking at the tasks needed doing to spruce up the church. It is fun and a parade of ideas flow through our conversation. Friday we take it all in stride, and Saturday we are in the kitchen, both of us busy; me with pork chops and chili, and Jim with coleslaw and lickey stickey, the poor man’s cake made without eggs. I am happy with pork chops for supper and two more double servings in the freezer, and at least three and maybe four meals with chili, also in the freezer. ZESA goes off just as Jim finishes his kitchen work for the braai.
After four years of an erratic schedule with ZESA we are quite relaxed with taking it as it comes and goes. In the early months we would get quite worked up and irritable. It’s the not knowing that’s the most problematic. If you’re caught with half-done bread in the breadmaker, for example. We do have a propane stove and Jim has successfully transferred cakes in midstream.
Most of our ZESA cuts are daytime, which I find easier to live with than the evening hours. At first they were mostly at night, and we invested in those portable fluorescent lights that had to be charged up. We didn’t have much success with these after the first month or so. They went downhill from several hours of light to less than a half hour and less. Chinese made, you know.
So, then we graduated to invertors, now part of our lounge décor. A little table with an invertor, battery charger and battery. For a couple of years several of us in church would haul our invertors and batteries back and forth, because when ZESA is off we can’t use all our musical instruments and the sound desk. Now, thanks to some good friends, we do have a small generator.
The lengthy times of no ZESA cuts into communication with folks overseas. No ZESA means no computer. No computer means no email, even writing email notes. So, we don’t keep up with our correspondence like we should.
Why no ZESA? The cuts began as loadshedding; everyone does with less so the wheat farmers can irrigate their fields. But it’s much more than that. Other culprits include maintenance and the necessary expansion to keep up with population growth. During our hyperinflation years money wasn’t available to purchase and replace parts. And planning ahead or anticipating growth is more of a Western concept than Third World. The natural resources are here, including abundant coal and the Zambezi River. One of these days we’ll be on track again, but it may take some years. Meanwhile, Zimbabwe imports up to half its electricity.
Sorry about the melodramatic disconsolate; it was just a brief twinge. Really, it’s something I can live with. Some will ask why we stay and put up with such nonsense. The answer is so simple and brings with it contentment. God is here, and this is where He wants us to be. We all live with irregularities of some kind and an unstable ZESA may be a lot more tolerable than what other people face. But don’t you like the way Thomas Moore ended the first verse of his hymn: Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
The hymn Come, Ye Disconsolate popped into my mind this week on the fourth day of ZESA (Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority) cuts, 12 hours or more per day. We sleep with a fan above our bed. Monday it eases into a full stop at 6 a.m.; Tuesday and Wednesday at 5:17 a.m.; and Thursday at 5:21 a.m. Twelve to fourteen hours later ZESA switches on again. And we are charged for this disruptive service a monthly fee usually exceeding $80 U.S.
Thursday morning hit me hard. [ZESA off at 9 a.m. and on again at 3 p.m. on Friday. On all day Saturday until 5 to 7 p.m., and now it’s Sunday morning and who knows what’s in store, except over 20 people over after church for a braai (barbeque)]. The monotony of four days in a row with at least 12 hours without ZESA.
So, I am feeling a bit down but we broke our fourth day routine with a morning at church looking at the tasks needed doing to spruce up the church. It is fun and a parade of ideas flow through our conversation. Friday we take it all in stride, and Saturday we are in the kitchen, both of us busy; me with pork chops and chili, and Jim with coleslaw and lickey stickey, the poor man’s cake made without eggs. I am happy with pork chops for supper and two more double servings in the freezer, and at least three and maybe four meals with chili, also in the freezer. ZESA goes off just as Jim finishes his kitchen work for the braai.
After four years of an erratic schedule with ZESA we are quite relaxed with taking it as it comes and goes. In the early months we would get quite worked up and irritable. It’s the not knowing that’s the most problematic. If you’re caught with half-done bread in the breadmaker, for example. We do have a propane stove and Jim has successfully transferred cakes in midstream.
Most of our ZESA cuts are daytime, which I find easier to live with than the evening hours. At first they were mostly at night, and we invested in those portable fluorescent lights that had to be charged up. We didn’t have much success with these after the first month or so. They went downhill from several hours of light to less than a half hour and less. Chinese made, you know.
So, then we graduated to invertors, now part of our lounge décor. A little table with an invertor, battery charger and battery. For a couple of years several of us in church would haul our invertors and batteries back and forth, because when ZESA is off we can’t use all our musical instruments and the sound desk. Now, thanks to some good friends, we do have a small generator.
The lengthy times of no ZESA cuts into communication with folks overseas. No ZESA means no computer. No computer means no email, even writing email notes. So, we don’t keep up with our correspondence like we should.
Why no ZESA? The cuts began as loadshedding; everyone does with less so the wheat farmers can irrigate their fields. But it’s much more than that. Other culprits include maintenance and the necessary expansion to keep up with population growth. During our hyperinflation years money wasn’t available to purchase and replace parts. And planning ahead or anticipating growth is more of a Western concept than Third World. The natural resources are here, including abundant coal and the Zambezi River. One of these days we’ll be on track again, but it may take some years. Meanwhile, Zimbabwe imports up to half its electricity.
Sorry about the melodramatic disconsolate; it was just a brief twinge. Really, it’s something I can live with. Some will ask why we stay and put up with such nonsense. The answer is so simple and brings with it contentment. God is here, and this is where He wants us to be. We all live with irregularities of some kind and an unstable ZESA may be a lot more tolerable than what other people face. But don’t you like the way Thomas Moore ended the first verse of his hymn: Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
A FUNERAL IN PRETORIA
In early August almost two weeks after I was back in Zimbabwe, Jim took a sad call from South Africa. A dear friend of his had died at age 51 and the family asked Jim to do the funeral. Jim agreed.
We couldn't leave right away. Driving across borders requires car clearance papers, and the call came on a weekend and the first two days following were holidays. We did get away on Wednesday afternoon and took the drive in easy stages. To Francistown, Botswana, the first night and on to Polokwane, South Africa, the second day and night, and finally arriving Friday night in Pretoria, one of South Africa's three capital cities.
In the Africa I know today (Zimbabwe and South Africa) death brings family together at the home of the deceased. And they stay until after the burial. With the Black African the women will sit in the house and the men outside drinking beer. Everyone has to be fed and accommodated until it's all over.
With the Coloureds, it's much the same, although accommodation is spread out among the family. (For example, one of the cousin's took us to his home.)
They were awaiting our arrival. Every room seemed filled with people. Most of the men sitting on the back verandah but a few scattered throughout with the women and children. There's a somberness as we greet one another. Many know Jim from years ago, and some had seen him just about two years ago.
Now that we've arrived, they begin a time of singing. A sister from Ireland has asked two young ladies to lead, and their voices are sweet and melodious. After close to an hour of singing, Jim is asked to say a few words. And then food is served. It's just the beginning of two days of what seems like a continual feast. A little box is set on a coffee table where people are invited to contribute Rand dollars to help pay for costs.
The next day we're back at the house and the deceased is on display in one of the front rooms. Many, many come to pay their last respects. It's a solemn, quiet time but occasionally someone collapses, weeping loudly, and is escorted from the room. I'll say it, even though it sounds cynical, but the person most visible and verbal with a show of grief is often the one on the worst terms with the deceased. Those in loving accord keep their grief inside and not to be shared with all and sundry.
The drive to the church for the service was a bit wild, trying to keep up with the car ahead that screeched through too many red lights! We were last in the small church parking lot. It was a nice-looking church with a sign advertising at least four services on a Sunday - in English, Afrikaans, Portuguese, and an African language.
The local pastor was not happy to share the service with Jim and did so reluctantly. He also objected to some of the items on the beautifully printed program but the family spokesperson was adamant about anything perceived to be a favorite of the deceased. And it was a lovely, warm farewell to a dear man - husband, father, grandfather and friend. Very personal with many people taking part.
A tea followed in the church hall, and any remaining somberness was broken as people caught up on one another's lives. Lots of laughter and a buz of chatter while both sweets and savories were devoured.
And that wasn't the end of eating. When we returned to the house a big lunch was served under a canopy at the back. Time to sit and talk and remember. Also to see what a cross section of people had been touched by the life of this one man.
The body was cremated on Tuesday and the ashes collected on Wednesday. In a little over a month a few will drive to Bulawayo in Zimbabwe to bury the ashes as requested by the deceased. Zimbabwe was his home, he had said to his son. Not South Africa.
Thank goodness for funerals and weddings. Time and circumstances separate us from people we were once close to, and if it weren't for these two events we might never see one another again. We say we'll keep in touch, see one another more often, and our intent is true, but it might take another funeral or wedding to make it happen!
We couldn't leave right away. Driving across borders requires car clearance papers, and the call came on a weekend and the first two days following were holidays. We did get away on Wednesday afternoon and took the drive in easy stages. To Francistown, Botswana, the first night and on to Polokwane, South Africa, the second day and night, and finally arriving Friday night in Pretoria, one of South Africa's three capital cities.
In the Africa I know today (Zimbabwe and South Africa) death brings family together at the home of the deceased. And they stay until after the burial. With the Black African the women will sit in the house and the men outside drinking beer. Everyone has to be fed and accommodated until it's all over.
With the Coloureds, it's much the same, although accommodation is spread out among the family. (For example, one of the cousin's took us to his home.)
They were awaiting our arrival. Every room seemed filled with people. Most of the men sitting on the back verandah but a few scattered throughout with the women and children. There's a somberness as we greet one another. Many know Jim from years ago, and some had seen him just about two years ago.
Now that we've arrived, they begin a time of singing. A sister from Ireland has asked two young ladies to lead, and their voices are sweet and melodious. After close to an hour of singing, Jim is asked to say a few words. And then food is served. It's just the beginning of two days of what seems like a continual feast. A little box is set on a coffee table where people are invited to contribute Rand dollars to help pay for costs.
The next day we're back at the house and the deceased is on display in one of the front rooms. Many, many come to pay their last respects. It's a solemn, quiet time but occasionally someone collapses, weeping loudly, and is escorted from the room. I'll say it, even though it sounds cynical, but the person most visible and verbal with a show of grief is often the one on the worst terms with the deceased. Those in loving accord keep their grief inside and not to be shared with all and sundry.
The drive to the church for the service was a bit wild, trying to keep up with the car ahead that screeched through too many red lights! We were last in the small church parking lot. It was a nice-looking church with a sign advertising at least four services on a Sunday - in English, Afrikaans, Portuguese, and an African language.
The local pastor was not happy to share the service with Jim and did so reluctantly. He also objected to some of the items on the beautifully printed program but the family spokesperson was adamant about anything perceived to be a favorite of the deceased. And it was a lovely, warm farewell to a dear man - husband, father, grandfather and friend. Very personal with many people taking part.
A tea followed in the church hall, and any remaining somberness was broken as people caught up on one another's lives. Lots of laughter and a buz of chatter while both sweets and savories were devoured.
And that wasn't the end of eating. When we returned to the house a big lunch was served under a canopy at the back. Time to sit and talk and remember. Also to see what a cross section of people had been touched by the life of this one man.
The body was cremated on Tuesday and the ashes collected on Wednesday. In a little over a month a few will drive to Bulawayo in Zimbabwe to bury the ashes as requested by the deceased. Zimbabwe was his home, he had said to his son. Not South Africa.
Thank goodness for funerals and weddings. Time and circumstances separate us from people we were once close to, and if it weren't for these two events we might never see one another again. We say we'll keep in touch, see one another more often, and our intent is true, but it might take another funeral or wedding to make it happen!
Monday, August 9, 2010
DISASTER INTO DELIGHT
While in the States I purchased some round cake pans to add to our collection here of squares and oblongs. Jim tried one of them with a homemade mix that utilized some strawberries we had forgotten too long in the frig. Turned out perfect and delicious.
On Saturday we tried them again with Jim’s chocolate cake recipe—a nice moist dark brown chocolate. So many chocolate cakes here are dryer, and Jim says it’s because they’re skimpy on the eggs. All went well until we turned the pans upside down to release the cake. Too much of it stuck to the bottom of the pan! Yuck! What do we do? The cake was for Sunday dinner to celebrate Cathy’s birthday. [Cathy is our daughter Ruth’s mother-in-law.]
Well, no chance of the cake going into the dustbin. So we borrowed on the trifle idea. [Trifle: a dessert made of a sponge cake, according to the dictionary] Jim made a boiled white frosting, and we put everything all together in his famous orange bowl. First clumps of cake topped with spoonfuls of frosting and repeated again and again. Jim put an empty plastic flour bin over the top and we set it high out of the reach of ants. The cake the next day was a big hit along with ice cream and some homemade chocolate sauce.
Cathy’s birthday had been on Friday, and we left her a gift bag at the butchery where she works. Midland’s Butchery—the best in Zimbabwe! On the card we wrote a scripture taken from The Message Bible, the introduction to Mary’s Magnificat although I didn’t think of that at the time. I’m bursting with God-news; I’m dancing the song of my Savior God. God took one good look at me, and look what happened—I’m the most fortunate woman on earth! Cathy later told us this scripture set the tone for a day that just got better and better.
The time spent finding the right scripture is suddenly so worthwhile. At first I tried in the Psalms and Proverbs, using the month and the day for a guide. Then I saw on the gift bag a scripture in the NIV, and looked it up in the Message, and it was so perfect!
Birthdays can be fun because they are individualized. Custom-made gifts or thoughts. Not for everyone every time but sometimes I hit the jackpot and it makes the little things so perfect. Like a bar of creamy perfumed soap when the norm has been harsh soaps in the shops. Or anything from my gift drawer made up of miscellaneous items and books to give away. The fun comes in unknowingly picking the right gift for someone who was wanting just that but didn’t have the time or money or source to find it for themselves.
It comes, doesn’t it, from listening and putting ideas on the shelves of your mind for future use. And it doesn’t always have to be birthdays, but people are more comfortable with receiving for a birthday rather than just any day of the year.
Giving brings pleasure to the giver as well as the receiver.
On Saturday we tried them again with Jim’s chocolate cake recipe—a nice moist dark brown chocolate. So many chocolate cakes here are dryer, and Jim says it’s because they’re skimpy on the eggs. All went well until we turned the pans upside down to release the cake. Too much of it stuck to the bottom of the pan! Yuck! What do we do? The cake was for Sunday dinner to celebrate Cathy’s birthday. [Cathy is our daughter Ruth’s mother-in-law.]
Well, no chance of the cake going into the dustbin. So we borrowed on the trifle idea. [Trifle: a dessert made of a sponge cake, according to the dictionary] Jim made a boiled white frosting, and we put everything all together in his famous orange bowl. First clumps of cake topped with spoonfuls of frosting and repeated again and again. Jim put an empty plastic flour bin over the top and we set it high out of the reach of ants. The cake the next day was a big hit along with ice cream and some homemade chocolate sauce.
Cathy’s birthday had been on Friday, and we left her a gift bag at the butchery where she works. Midland’s Butchery—the best in Zimbabwe! On the card we wrote a scripture taken from The Message Bible, the introduction to Mary’s Magnificat although I didn’t think of that at the time. I’m bursting with God-news; I’m dancing the song of my Savior God. God took one good look at me, and look what happened—I’m the most fortunate woman on earth! Cathy later told us this scripture set the tone for a day that just got better and better.
The time spent finding the right scripture is suddenly so worthwhile. At first I tried in the Psalms and Proverbs, using the month and the day for a guide. Then I saw on the gift bag a scripture in the NIV, and looked it up in the Message, and it was so perfect!
Birthdays can be fun because they are individualized. Custom-made gifts or thoughts. Not for everyone every time but sometimes I hit the jackpot and it makes the little things so perfect. Like a bar of creamy perfumed soap when the norm has been harsh soaps in the shops. Or anything from my gift drawer made up of miscellaneous items and books to give away. The fun comes in unknowingly picking the right gift for someone who was wanting just that but didn’t have the time or money or source to find it for themselves.
It comes, doesn’t it, from listening and putting ideas on the shelves of your mind for future use. And it doesn’t always have to be birthdays, but people are more comfortable with receiving for a birthday rather than just any day of the year.
Giving brings pleasure to the giver as well as the receiver.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)