Kopa Street

In the past week and a half a lot has happened; I’ll summarize.
*Excuse my lack of paragraphs.

A team of 6 adults from 100 Mile House in BC came. They were living in the guest house behind our house, and Elaine moved into our house. On Sunday the 16th we went to the Potter’s House Church. On the Monday I stayed home to catch up on school a bit.

April 18-21 – Each day I went out to VOH, and did school, then on break times I played with the kids. I definitely know at least 10 names now (this means I can identify them no matter what clothes they were, or what their hair style is). I even played basketball one day, and discovered that 12-year-old kids are better than me…oh well. Twice I helped Elaine with cookie baking in the houses. Also, we had lunch twice in one of the houses. This meant a full out meal of 2 kinds of potatoes, 2 kinds of chicken, 2 bowls of rice, and large bowls of sauce and salad, along with a drink. It was crazy how much food was left over. I enjoyed talking with the team in the visitor room, and had fun going through the VOH guest book; so many people have been there! Norway, Nunavut… you name it.

April 21 – Our visas expired on the 23 (Sunday), and since the immigration office wasn’t open on weekends, we tried to renew it on Friday. Tried. It turned out that ours was actually a business visa (which can be used 30 days per year), not visitor visa (which can be used up to a total of 90 days per year). This meant that as soon as our visa expired on Sunday at midnight, we had the possibility of imprisonment or deportation (according to their website). The immigration officer wanted to see a receipt from our work permit (that we do not have yet). The officer almost tried to take our passports away until Monday. This turned out to be quite the ordeal, because the PAOG(Z) in Lusaka were the ones who had filed for it, and had apparently lost the receipt. One lady from there was at the immigration office in Lusaka all day, trying to get things sorted out. It also happened that the person who was working on our work permit file wasn’t there that day, so someone else had to help her. Nancy was calling this woman every 15 minutes to see how she was doing/to keep her moving. With four minutes to go before closing time, we arrived at the immigration office in Kitwe, without the receipt – because our work permit file had been lost – and vowing to not give up our passports. Nancy, with her sweet-talking charm that Graeme had experienced, smoothed things over, and we saw a much gentler side of the gruff officer from earlier that day. His last words were, “Don’t worry, Zambia is a friendly place, I’m sure we’ll get things sorted out.”

April 22 – We went to the 2nd Graduation Ceremony for Agape school. The team, and the rest of us got to sit on the stage (which seemed kind of weird, because the choir, or grads should have been up there), which was covered by a big tarp, and had chairs with armrests to sit in. Each of the “Special visitors from Canada” got a nice cold bottle of water. The decorations were authentic. Balloons everywhere, and triangle construction paper with veggie tale stickers strung together. The best part of the ceremony was when the group of grads did a line dance – African style – that went 2 steps forward, 5 steps back; so it took a while. I had to leave early to go to Ndola, but apparently there was a sweet dance party afterwards where my mom was dancing with the African ladies, and my dad was dancing too…how I wish I could have seen that!

April 23 – Acts Community Church, with pastor Albert, was pretty sweet, but 3 hours long. I found out that none of my shirts match my skirts. There was an eleven-year old girl (Albert’s daughter) playing the drums – and was pretty good. I notice that a lot of times (well twice) there are girls playing drums, when generally, at home, its boys.

April 24 – We headed down to immigration at 10:45, after hearing from the same lady from PAOG(Z). She said she would be at her office in half an hour, and had just come form immigration in Lusaka. At 12, and three phone calls later, we went to the Bersaglio’s (who were in Lusaka/Harare, but Shelly, their housekeeper was home) to receive the fax of the receipt that the lady said she would send. (The immigration place in Kitwe has no computers, no fax machines, no printers, no copiers. But they do have electricity… and cell phones) Then she said her fax machine didn’t work, and had to take public transport to get to another one. At 2:30, and 6 phone calls later, we headed to immigration Kitwe, with the faxed receipt in hand (and another copy, just in case). After getting there, the immigration officer told us to photocopy the visa stamps in our passports, and our passport pictures at the store next door. This meant going up a flight of incredibly rickety iron stairs, and walking through a hallway including a hair & nail salon, computer store, arcade, and what we were looking for - the photocopying place. After this, we returned to the Immigration place, and waited another hour until my dad was asked to go into the officer’s office. During that time a lady sat on the bench beside me, and with her arm stretched out along the back of it, began to play with my hair. She seemed like a nice lady, so I wasn’t too freaked out, but it was weird; I put my hair over the opposite shoulder. While my mom and I were waiting for my dad in the office, we happened to change benches, and found that we could hear what was being said in the office – yes, we were eavesdropping. Finally, at 16:55, after 6 hours of waiting, we had our passports stamped with another 30 days of a business visa.

Today the team left for a safari, and will continue home, along with Elaine, who is staying in Lusaka for a few days, then going home. Yesterday the Dukoral I took was put to the test when I accidently used tap water to make pancakes. (I was fine.) It was a forgetful morning, because I also forgot to take my malaria pill (for the first time). Also, randomly when we were at the airport in Ndola, a group of 10 little kids in suits, and fancy dresses wanted to take pictures with us. They were from the Congo.

Chisicone Market, what an adventure. After a sleepover with Elaine and Lauren in the guesthouse (where Elaine is staying, behind the Kopa house), Nancy picked us up. On our way downtown we didn’t have to detour like she did in the morning (because of a riot at the university). We parked downtown, and when the usual guy – Moses - who watches the Bersaglio’s car came, we headed to the bank, and Nancy went to Shop-Rite.

This was not like a bank that I had ever been in. The room was as long across as a typical Safeway checkout area. It was incredibly crowded. There were a whole bunch of branches represented, with large groups of people lined up outside each booth. The booths were little cubicles, with glass windows, so everyone could see what was going on, and how much money was transacted. Also, along the wall next to the street, there were windows, with benches in front – every last one of them occupied. Lauren and I waited for Elaine to exchange her money, and read the sign on how to tell if American money was real or not. [Side note: the new American 50’s have colour – pink! So much for green money.]

We continued down the street and went in a store that sold fabric. Elaine wanted to get a dress made, so the clerk brought her some fabric. All of the fabric (the traditional kind, with cool designs and colours) felt like a tablecloth – it was waxy, and would probably be rainproof. There were very few cottons.

Lauren pointed out that all of the stores are the same. They are all the same shape- narrow, rectangular, high ceilings, and dark. Also, the products are the same- random things like baby strollers, speakers, linoleum rolls, fabric, and lots of trinkets inside the glass counters.

We went into some clothing stores, which were neat. All of the clothes were westernized, pretty much. There was an amazing shirt full of dollar store English about knitting that made no sense.

Next, we went to Chisicone Market. We started out in the Curio section, which are the craft souvenirs - wood carvings/jewelry - that everyone brings home. The tables were so neat, and right away you get swarmed with people wanting you to buy from their table, or just look, because, ‘looking is free.’ I ended up buying a black, carved wooden bead necklace. (The same idea as pearls, but black…and wooden…)

I also helped Lauren choose a pair of sunglasses from a stand outside. There were about 7 stands lined up side by side, but each one was selling almost the exact same thing. The sunglasses had their ends stuck into a big, white piece of Styrofoam, and other trinkets were at the front of the stand. These included batteries, alarm clocks, and adapters. Lauren started at one end, and each time she was finished, she moved to the stand beside it. So finally, when she was at the last stand, she had a swarm of about 7 men around her, trying to get her to buy sunglasses.

When Elaine was finished buying her souvenirs, we ventured into the actual market. The clothes section was the part we went to. It had booth after booth after booth. Each was built out of brick, or wood, and pieced together with black canvas or other material. Each shop was about the size of a large bathroom. They were side by side, and there were walkways, making ‘blocks’ of shops. The pathways were all uneven, because they were covered with rocks, cut up brick, chunks of pavement, garbage, and potholes. Lauren said that most of the clothes being sold were new, but there was also a section of used clothing. The weirdest thing ever was when Elaine saw the exact same shirt that she had tried on in Canada last summer.

In one of the shops Lauren found a pair of jeans that she really liked, so she decided to try them on. There were no change rooms in any of the shops, so the lady who owned the shop gave her a Chetenge (an African skirt) to wrap around her. She took off her shorts, and tried on the jeans – with a whole bunch of men outside of the shop trying to sell us things. It was really funny.

We wandered around the clothes section of the market for a while longer. One man tried to sell us men's shorts. I saw ‘The Lion King’ shirts, Cinderella bed sheets, and a really cool bag. Everything was so extreme there.

After the market we went to Shop-Rite. It was my first time there, so I didn’t know any different, but the other two said it was stocked incredibly well. They had things the Bersaglio’s hadn’t seen in 7 years. (2L plastic pop bottles, chip dip…) Nancy found out that it was because the highest up owner/manager of all the Shop-Rites was coming to visit.

At lunch we talked about Canadian restaurants for 10 minutes. Then, when the water came with Lauren’s food, and noticed a particle of food stuck on the plate. He didn’t appologize and get her a clean plate, he didn’t even ignore it. He reached over her shoulder, and with his finger nail, scratched at it for a good ten seconds. None of us could contain ourselves, and we all burst out laughing after he had taken two steps away from our table. It was so funny!

Shout Out:
- Kristin, I saw a phone booth called Mpalo & Mwambe.

[I added these later. Lauren B, Lauren A, Me - early birthday cake. Dad, Mom, Me- Arabian Nights on my birthday]

That song has been stuck in my head for the past two hours. Tomorrow is my 16th birthday.
I spent Friday and Saturday at Lauren’s house, and Lauren Airth was there too. I came over on Friday morning at 9 and they were still sleeping. Lauren A and I did school, and later that night we went to Mona Lisa’s.

Mona Lisa’s is one of the main restaurants in town, and I’ve gone there 4 times now – even twice in one day. Once we got there, the power went out almost right after we sat down. Right before this Lauren’s ‘Song’ played, and she talked about how it would be an amazing night, so she started freaking out after the power went out. I like power outages, and it was even more fun when they brought candles to everyone’s tables.

That night both Laurens, and Alicia, and I slept over at the Bersaglio’s house. We decided to make chocolate chip cookies at midnight - which was an experience. To start with, you can’t buy chocolate chips here, so you have to use them sparingly. The brown sugar is so brown that it is almost black. Everything else was normal (as far as I could tell) but the cookies tasted slightly off, not normal, though they were good.

We watched a movie, and went to bed, then I ended up waking up half an hour after Lauren A. left for Lusaka – so I didn’t get to say goodbye, and Alicia had gone home as well.
For the next hour, Lauren and I made up ‘Roses are red, Violets are blue’ poems. Lauren tried to rhyme ‘blue’ with shoes, understand, and food. The only one I remember is, “Roses are red, violets are blue, when you’re in the room, I like the view.” Also, “Roses are red, violets are blue, if you want to date me, this is your cue.” Use them for your rhyming pleasure. Or your awkward silence pleasure. But it was a great bonding experience- I recommend it.

Later I had my first African tanning experience. It was intense. I didn’t even get burned. But I did get this weird heat rash on my face. (Side note: in case you wanted to know, Doxycylene – malaria pill- clears acne; according to Lauren.) Afterwards I had a fun time showering in Lauren’s shower, because you don’t have to hold the hand-held shower while washing your hair with your other hand, or holding it between your knees or something. Be thankful that your showers have water that comes from above your head, not below.

Today we went on a drive, and I took some pictures out of the window of the van, but the ones that I wanted, I didn’t take, because they were ones of people, and it seemed rude. But I saw the pictures that I would take, and took them in my head.

Today I did something that I’ve wanted to do my whole life. I carved my name into cement before it was fully dry. What happened was that there have been electricians coming to our house for the past week or so, fixing all the wiring and lights, and they had to dig up some wires from underground- so they left a hole. Today Felix and Elias, our gardeners (until tomorrow, because the Hope Training Institute starts on Monday) filled the hole in with cement. Elaine noticed that they had written their names in the cement, so we went and did that too. And so, we’ll all be famous, with our names written in cement. Elaine and I also put our handprints in; that was fun.
I finally got out of the house, because we went for a drive to see our neighbourhood- which none of us had seen. Pretty much every house here has some kind of wall, and gate. Most of the walls are grey bricks, but there is definitely a lot of variety. There are many different kinds of gates though. The ones with spikes on top, the really high ones, the low ones, the ones with glass on top, the black ones, the white ones, the grey ones, the red ones (like ours is right now- but they’re going to paint it black). There are different levels of security for each house. Some have walls, walls with glass, both with barbed wire, all three plus a couple of guard dogs. We have all three, plus my parents who are a bit on the paranoid side. (But everyone is like that the first year- according to the people we’ve talked to.) The strangest thing we saw were two houses side by side, and they didn’t have walls, you could see the actual houses. We are definitely not used to that anymore.
On our drive we went to the tiny market that is less than ten minutes walking distance from our house. When we parked, we found it strange that no one was coming up to our windows, asking for money, or trying to sell something. We bought bread from G&G, and charcoal for our bry from one of the booths.
On our way out we stopped at a peanut stand. There were three ladies sitting on a blanket, on the ground, each with their own pile of peanuts. They were scooping them into cups- that is how they measured them for their price- and then piling them into a large, oversized plastic bowl. I bought 2,000 Kwacha worth, which was a bit smaller than a big grocery store (not convenience store) sized bag that you would buy in Canada. This is equivalent to about 70 cents Canadian. Then we got home, and realized that, upon cracking open a peanut, they were raw. They weren’t cooked, they weren’t roasted, they weren’t boiled. You open them, and either the peanut oil squeezes out under the pressure, or the peanuts inside are covered with white or purple skin. I had never thought about that before. When we buy peanuts in stores they are actually cooked, and salted, and go through this whole process (which we did tonight). You can’t pick a peanut off of its tree and eat it. Who knew?

On Sunday we went to church at Barraca, the church outside the Village of Hope. We woke up at 7:30 (as usual, but I know jet lag is finally ending, because I’m waking up later), and I had fun getting dressed up in a skirt (I never wear skirts). My parents and I headed to the Bersaglios to pick up Serge (Lauren and Nancy were still sick with Malaria), and continued on the road to Village of Hope. We parked, and got out of the vehicle, when this kid came up to us, and introduced himself as Godfrey. He was from Racecourse- the village beside VOH- and wanted to be my dad’s new best friend, it was pretty funny.
We walked through the gate embedded into the walls of VOH, and stepped out into the field. As we walked along the path, and neared Barraca, we gradually heard singing. It was like those Catholic churches in Europe with all the nuns singing, but this was African singing- so cool.
Barraca was a rectangular brick building about the size of a high school science lab. It had two windows in it, but they were blocked up with bricks – to keep the sun out of people’s faces I guess. This made the church dim, and also hot. The floor was painted red, with the paint that comes off easily (and stains your shoes/socks red), and is in pretty much every building I’ve been in- including my house.
When we stepped inside, we were ushered to the very front row, which was special for visitors because the front row pews had backs. As I walked down the aisle, I briefly glimpsed at the faces of all the people, and noticed the hard, wooden pews that they were sitting on. The singing that we had heard outside continued, and it was amazing. Everyone around me was singing, loudly, passionately. It made the room seem full, and thick, and close.
The worship team was made up of a choir of about 9 singers (5 guys, 4 girls) plus a male worship leader, and a keyboard plugged in and turned up to maximum volume. They all did the ‘sway back and forth with a four step heel movement.’ (I was watching them later, and noticed that ‘the sway’ was four movements. A heel of one foot, then the toe, then the same for the other foot. But other people would take a complete step, and rest on the offbeat. So there were many variations.) They were all wearing authentic African patterns and styles. The women had two-piece skirt/top outfits of the same material, and the men had African print shirts with dress pants.
The singing was all in Bemba, but pretty repetitive in the lyrics, so I caught on for some songs, and made up my own words for others. Fatuma (who for some reason none of us recognized) sang, “Reign in Me” in English, with the choir backing her up, so that was pretty cool. There was a sweet prayer time, where all of a sudden everyone was speaking in Bemba, out loud, at the same time.
Then Everlyn spoke (in English), and had a translator translate it into Bemba. At first that was kind of slow, but once they got into their rhythm, it moved along nicely. At the beginning of Evelyn speaking, she got Serge to introduce the ‘International Visitors.’ He made a joke that usually people are introduced by who their father is, but we were being introduced by who our brother/son was. As Serge called our names we stood up, turned around and smiled, and gave a little wave. It surprised me how many people were behind us, because, being at the front, you don’t get to see the people- they get to see you. Serge also decided to add in that we were staying for 5 years, not 1 year (saying that God had told us 5 years, but we thought He said 1 because He was speaking in Bemba).
After the service there was a procession, where the choir sang, and we filed out, pew by pew. When we got outside there was a line of ‘hand shakers’ that shook our hands, then we added ourselves to the line. People came out, shook through the line, smiled, greeted each other. Each person was so different. Some were tall, thin, short, big, small. I noticed that some people would look you in the eye, while others would look down, or away. Also, there were different quality of handshakes. For some it was just a 'grab limply' and for others it was 'firm and strong.' After awhile my face hurt from smiling so much, but I felt the need to smile at each person, so I continued on smiling.
Serge wanted to leave quickly, and take advantage of the service ending earlier than usual (this one was two and a half hours, and they usually go on for three), so we left, and went back home. I stayed in my skirt (the long, black, crinkly one) all day long, becauses it was so much fun to wear.