"Getting Used"

Mornings here have often been sacred times for me in Zambia. In the stillness of the early hours I have chosen not taint it with movement, busy schedules or appointments. Instead I take time to appreciate the light of the morning sun that has come from darkness, and anticipating the blessings that are waiting for me throughout this new day. My aunt sent me this poem, and it has become my mantra every morning that I thought I would share:
 

O SOURCE OF MORNING'S BRIGHTNESS,

As new light streams out of the darkness, we open wide our hearts

to the healing light of your Encircling Presence.

Open our eyes to the opportunities this day has to offer.

Surprise us with small joys and pieces of beauty 

scattered through the hours.

O Beautiful Presence, help us this day

to taste the joy of being awake.

May this simple prayer come true in our lives today.

AMEN!

--taken from my book, Seven Sacred Pauses

So here I sit, on the porch of my new home, drinking coffee and eating the mangos like it was my last (seriously, I need a separate blog post to fully express my love for mangos here). And becoming more in tune with my own thoughts, and my reflections over the month of November.
 
The rains have come, and although I can’t say I am a fan of the mud and trash that surfaces across these streets, there is something symbolic for me about the anticipation of rain and the celebratory effect it has on the local people here. The rains symbolize new life, growth of crops and cooling the heat wave we have experienced for the last 4 months. We have waited since October, wondering when God will provide rain once again. And now they have come.
 
It reminds me of the time before I left for Zambia. The anticipation was torturous, waiting and counting down the days until I left. I knew that the next steps ahead of me would present challenges, but I was excited to welcome the potential for newness of life that came with stepping into a new environment. Similarly as the rains come and grant us "newness", they also come with new obstacles.
 
After four months of being here, I feel a turn over of new blessings and challenges from the time I first stepped foot on this new soil. Although I may not have admitted it at the time, I was so uncomfortable with my surroundings, so out of my element being around poverty. I believe as a tourist you become almost child like, vulnerable to potential dangers and eager to find any connection or advice you can get from those who have more knowledge than you. You cling to things that remind you of home, and resist adapting to this strange new world around you.
 
But like the rains are welcomed here, I welcome this new stage where I am getting used to my surroundings, and finding more and more that I am no longer a tourist. I am building a life for myself here in this once foreign city. All of a sudden I found myself becoming sort of "westernized version of Zambia", bringing my own background, but getting used to a new culture as well. I am beginning to say common phrases and adopting new antics that I wouldn’t have done back at home. I have started to notice my weekend filling up with plans with new friends I’ve made, and I am now able to navigate my way around a crazy congested city with ease. I run into people I know on the bus and at the market, I know where the best stands are to get mangos in my area. The convenience store owners across the street know me and how much talk- time I usually buy. I can predict that I will pass the same two ladies on my way to work and that they will exchange greetings with me in the local language Chinyanja. I have the same daily routines with my morning coffee, bible study and writing out on the porch.

 I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way this strange city became a home, and that’s not so scary to me anymore.
 
But in the midst of new routines and growing comfortable to my surroundings, I believe that at this stage I am also called to a new responsibility to start dealing with injustices that I see. For the past few months I’ve focused my energy on getting used to being in a crowded, poverty stricken city. Maybe that sounds obnoxiously western, but it is simply an adjustment to feel comfortable interacting with teachers in a crowded school that where the entire space is a staff room, storage room and classroom all in one. But now that I am in this place of “getting used”( as Zambians love to say), now that I have built relationships with  people here and seen injustice on a first hand level, I cant help but ask myself "now what am I going to do about it?".
 
Because of the long term nature of this service work, I believe it is a SALTers responsibility to establish relationships in order to carry on the burdens of others on a deep and personal level. Last week I attended a peace club graduation ceremony of a group of grade 12's. The president of peace clubs gave her testimony, telling us about how she found peace clubs after becoming double orphaned, losing her father in grade 9. Despite all this, she completed her grade 9 exams without a home or a family. It was only through the support of peace clubs, and teachers who pushed her to finish. As she cried through her story, I cried too, physically carrying a piece of her pain, and internalizing it deep within my soul. It was empathy on a level I had never experienced before. I was overwhelmed by the feeling of God's presence in that room, whispering into my ear to say "and this is why I brought you here."
 
As I hear stories like this, I grow more and more angry at the obvious injustices that seem to slip under the radar in this society. We are in the middle of carrying out research and marking progress of a school that is known for its high levels of abuse in one of the most poverty stricken areas of Lusaka. I sat there in a classroom full of lively students, as my boss issa asked them questions about abuse in the home and school, and wrote down statistics like "35/35 students beaten by their teachers on a daily basis". As each student came up to Issa and whispered their own story of abuse into his ear, I couldnt help but feel angry at the normality of abuse here.

 
I realize more now then ever that I come from a place of such privilege, where attention would be given to these issues immediately, and voices of those crying out would not go unanswered. Although we face our own set of problems, the difference between educational systems is undeniable. Last year my boss came to Canada for a learning tour, and his comment upon returning was "it was only when I stepped out of my home country and saw the differences that I realized how much poverty actually exists here" Similarly to me, it was only after I stepped out of Canada that I realized how lucky our country is.
 
In conclusion, although I am growing comfortable with my surroundings and poverty, and I think I am growing more uncomfortable with letting it pass me by. As the rains fall, a new stage of this journey begins- filled with new blessings and challenges along the way.