A Day in Lusaka (through the eyes of Martha Krueger)
Rachel: The nature of being in any environment for long enough is that the shocking, exciting, and "high-sensory" experiences actually become normal as they are incorporated into one's daily routine. Its hard to believe that 6 months ago, I was in my mother's shoes... overloaded with so much new, with a deep awareness of the differences between home and here. I asked my mom to reflect on her experience of her tour in Lusaka. Coming in with her fresh pair of eyes, I think she can better describe this place in a better way that I can at this point in my journey. Enjoy!
It is December 26th, and after a heavy rain during the night our journey to the Lusaka Peace Club office began with a long walk down the red dirt road near Rachel's host-family home. The pond-like puddles of rainy season made us more intentional about our steps toward the bus stop. Entering the van-bus we two-tall Krueger women bent over (in half!)and made our way to the back. It left the roadside when it was 'fully loaded' with 16 passengers. (Thankfully no chickens on board that day) Feeling every bump in the unpaved road the image of riding an antiquated wooden roller coaster came to mind. Throughout our ride we could hear Zambians outside the bus - “Muzungu!” (commenting on us the 'white people'). The frequent bus-honking had a range of messages - “Get out of my way!”, “Hello!”, “Get on my bus!” I notice that most buildings don't look finished and homes we pass are very small with little property around them. There is no evidence of the Christmas season, and definitely no lights hanging from corrugated roofs. I am struck by the number of things being sold along the side of the road .... furniture, fences, hub caps, lemons, bed frames, bricks, chickens. Clothes hang over apartment balconies to dry, dogs wander aimlessly, and there is a constant parade of people walking – clothed in either very traditional or western styles. All passengers exit at the City Market in the heart of Lusaka where connections are made for other buses. The rest of our journey is a full sensory experience! After leaving the bus, I am aware of a din of noise – constant honking, sellers and bus drivers shouting to get customers' attention, and men calling out to us, the 'muzungus', beckoning our interest. My eyes are struck by the sheer volume of people (none of which have white skin), cars, buses, and chaos. Street crossing is a test to one's reflexes and peripheral vision - where cars come from every direction, traffic lights are absent, and vehicles - not pedestrians - rule. A gust of wind blows a cloud of red dirt in our faces and I'm wishing I had worn sunglasses like Rachel. We try to stay together, moving quickly through the crowds and around the brown 'lakes' from recent rainfalls on the unpaved roads. It is heartbreaking to see the squalor, the numbers of homeless, and so many selling used items on the street. Living on the brink looks normative. This is a city of 3.5 million people ... imagine Calcutta. I am told these are typical sights of a large city in a developing country. I can tell from my body-tension that I am feeling self-protective as well as speechless. I can now appreciate the milestone this has been for Rachel to 'get used to' as part of the start to her day.
We walk into a stark cement courtyard and climb steps to the second floor. At the end of the hall Rachel leads us into a small, humble room with 2 desks, walled with posters and Peace Club schedules. Rachel's mentor-boss, Issa Ebombolo greets me with a warmth and focus that makes me feel immediately at ease and welcome. The abrasive sights and sounds cease and I am in a new climate. I sense Issa's eagerness to engage in conversation, to encourage me as Rachel's mother, and his passion to learn - “What did you do as parents to make her turn out like this? You 'cooked' her well!” he exclaims. His unique parent-complement makes me laugh. I had come with my own questions, curious to know him better and understand his passion for promoting peace, but came away very moved by his compassion and humility and grateful that my daughter can be mentored by him. I was also inspired by what he shared about Rachel.
In a 2011 article about Peace Clubs in the Mennonite Central Committee's magazine, Commonplace, I read these words of Issa's: “My hope is that I should live for the sake of others, ready to sacrifice my little time, my little energy, my little knowledge to help others who are in need, who are oppressed and who are abused.” Issa is the founder of the work of Peace Clubs in Zambia – a popular and growing movement in their schools where students are given an opportunity to discuss and learn about conflict resolution in a number of contexts. It is a curriculum which is helping make non-violence an accessible goal for students of all ages. After visiting a Peace Club at an Islamic Centre in Lusaka with he and Rachel, I understood better the breadth of its application and the reason for its appeal.
During my Zambia visit the words of a song kept going through my mind:
Let the flame burn brighter, in the heart of the darkness
Turning night to glorious day,
Let our song grow louder, as our love grows stronger,
Let it shine.
Although 'lighting one candle to make a difference' is not an original idea, it is a metaphor which I saw in action while in Lusaka, and I am grateful for that inspiration.
It is December 26th, and after a heavy rain during the night our journey to the Lusaka Peace Club office began with a long walk down the red dirt road near Rachel's host-family home. The pond-like puddles of rainy season made us more intentional about our steps toward the bus stop. Entering the van-bus we two-tall Krueger women bent over (in half!)and made our way to the back. It left the roadside when it was 'fully loaded' with 16 passengers. (Thankfully no chickens on board that day) Feeling every bump in the unpaved road the image of riding an antiquated wooden roller coaster came to mind. Throughout our ride we could hear Zambians outside the bus - “Muzungu!” (commenting on us the 'white people'). The frequent bus-honking had a range of messages - “Get out of my way!”, “Hello!”, “Get on my bus!” I notice that most buildings don't look finished and homes we pass are very small with little property around them. There is no evidence of the Christmas season, and definitely no lights hanging from corrugated roofs. I am struck by the number of things being sold along the side of the road .... furniture, fences, hub caps, lemons, bed frames, bricks, chickens. Clothes hang over apartment balconies to dry, dogs wander aimlessly, and there is a constant parade of people walking – clothed in either very traditional or western styles. All passengers exit at the City Market in the heart of Lusaka where connections are made for other buses. The rest of our journey is a full sensory experience! After leaving the bus, I am aware of a din of noise – constant honking, sellers and bus drivers shouting to get customers' attention, and men calling out to us, the 'muzungus', beckoning our interest. My eyes are struck by the sheer volume of people (none of which have white skin), cars, buses, and chaos. Street crossing is a test to one's reflexes and peripheral vision - where cars come from every direction, traffic lights are absent, and vehicles - not pedestrians - rule. A gust of wind blows a cloud of red dirt in our faces and I'm wishing I had worn sunglasses like Rachel. We try to stay together, moving quickly through the crowds and around the brown 'lakes' from recent rainfalls on the unpaved roads. It is heartbreaking to see the squalor, the numbers of homeless, and so many selling used items on the street. Living on the brink looks normative. This is a city of 3.5 million people ... imagine Calcutta. I am told these are typical sights of a large city in a developing country. I can tell from my body-tension that I am feeling self-protective as well as speechless. I can now appreciate the milestone this has been for Rachel to 'get used to' as part of the start to her day.
We walk into a stark cement courtyard and climb steps to the second floor. At the end of the hall Rachel leads us into a small, humble room with 2 desks, walled with posters and Peace Club schedules. Rachel's mentor-boss, Issa Ebombolo greets me with a warmth and focus that makes me feel immediately at ease and welcome. The abrasive sights and sounds cease and I am in a new climate. I sense Issa's eagerness to engage in conversation, to encourage me as Rachel's mother, and his passion to learn - “What did you do as parents to make her turn out like this? You 'cooked' her well!” he exclaims. His unique parent-complement makes me laugh. I had come with my own questions, curious to know him better and understand his passion for promoting peace, but came away very moved by his compassion and humility and grateful that my daughter can be mentored by him. I was also inspired by what he shared about Rachel.
In a 2011 article about Peace Clubs in the Mennonite Central Committee's magazine, Commonplace, I read these words of Issa's: “My hope is that I should live for the sake of others, ready to sacrifice my little time, my little energy, my little knowledge to help others who are in need, who are oppressed and who are abused.” Issa is the founder of the work of Peace Clubs in Zambia – a popular and growing movement in their schools where students are given an opportunity to discuss and learn about conflict resolution in a number of contexts. It is a curriculum which is helping make non-violence an accessible goal for students of all ages. After visiting a Peace Club at an Islamic Centre in Lusaka with he and Rachel, I understood better the breadth of its application and the reason for its appeal.
During my Zambia visit the words of a song kept going through my mind:
Let the flame burn brighter, in the heart of the darkness
Turning night to glorious day,
Let our song grow louder, as our love grows stronger,
Let it shine.
Although 'lighting one candle to make a difference' is not an original idea, it is a metaphor which I saw in action while in Lusaka, and I am grateful for that inspiration.
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