Kopa Street

Since my trip to Livingstone, a lot has taken place. Probably the most exciting experience was when my parents, Shelby, and I got to go to our sponsor child’s house. His name is Mausauso Banda, and he is 12 years old, but in grade 4. We had been trying to schedule this visit for a long time, but each time it didn’t work out.

My dad and brother had visited Mausauso before, but at a different house. Before he lived in the Racecourse compound, but now he has moved up to the Kawama compound. We took Frieda, a lady who works at Village of Hope along with us, as well as giving Mausauso and his friend a ride (instead of a 45 minutes walk).

Our first stop was the Naketoli Market, where we traipsed down the aisles until we came to the chicken stands. Frieda showed me how to choose the right chicken – you look for the two biggest ones, then hold one in each arm, and buy the heavier one. I got the privelage of holding the chicken the rest of the way by grasping it around the base of both wings. Luckily, its feet were tied together. We also stopped and got cooking oil, and a sack of Mealie-Meal (which is made into nshima). Mausauso carried the sack back to the minibus on his shoulder (these are 25kg sacks), and we all got in for the 15-minute drive to Kawama.


It turned out to be a bumpy ride, as we went down streets that obviously didn’t usually have much, if any, traffic on them. The chicken must have thought it was a bumpy ride too has it barfed, peed, and pooped in the minibus – and also on my foot. Along the way we saw a church square. (There were about four different churches with different denominations that apparently try to drown each other out with the singing on Sundays.)



It was obvious mzungus (white people) weren’t seen very often where we were going when the kids stopped what they were doing and stared as we drove by. We wound through the streets of Kawama, and finally got to Mausauso’s house. When we piled out of the minibus, there was a huge crowd of at least 40 kids who just stood in a group, staring. Mausauso led us to his house, which was actually behind the house we had parked in front of, because there was no actual road that led to it.

The group of kids trailed us to his front door, and stood outside while we met his family. Cecilia was his mom, who thankfully took the chicken from me, and he had two little siblings – Maureen who was 9, and Phillipe who was 4. Their dad was still at work.

Cecilia invited us into their two-room brick house, and sat us down on the furniture. My mom had a little trouble with that, because she had chosen the couch, which was falling apart, and she probably would have gone all the way through if she hadn’t sat right on the edge. Shelby and I took the wooden chairs across from the couch, and my dad stood. (As Shelby commented later, their living room was the size of her bathroom.) A curtain separated what I am guessing was the sleeping room, because I never did get to look inside it.

We chatted with the Banda family for a while, and Frieda translated any miscommunication. When we asked Mausauso about school, Maureen ran to get his tests, and showed us all of the most recent ones. Cecilia also showed us the picture on their wall, which was of some family members, and her when she was younger.

Next we gave each kid a beanie baby, and Cecilia the bag of toiletry-like gifts. After we had taken pictures of their family and us together, I saw my mom nod at my dad, which meant it was time to go.

As we went out their curtain door, the 40 kids from before were still standing outside, except that they seemed to have multiplied. They followed us back to the minibus, and we said good-bye, and ‘na to te la’ (thank-you), to each member of the Banda family. On the way out of Kawama we were once again stared back by every kid on the side of the road, and some even thought it would be fun to jump on the back of the minibus – probably only until they fell off.

I was reflecting later that I remember watching the World Vision channel when famous people like Sarah McLachlan would get to visit their sponsor child. I can’t believe that I had the opportunity to do just that. And the weird thing is that I didn’t feel overwhelmed, I didn’t go emotional, as I would have expected, but I was completely at ease. I was comfortable, and this felt like an everyday activity. Being in a two-room house that in North America is only seen on TV didn’t intimidate me. I will always treasure the opportunity I had to see first hand, someone’s life change. It means more when it’s personal.