Suffering for nothing

The debate this morning between Ruben and I
K: Should we take the big bus or the little bus?
R: Whichever comes first
K: But we have big bags
R: I can put it on my lap
K: What if you have to stand
R: ...and then they make me pay k5,000 for the bag hmmm...
K: That minibus is going straight to town
R: It won't stop in Chongwe forever?
K: I don't know. Maybe. But if the big bus gets stuck in mud it is stuck all day but the little bus they can push out.
R: Good point. Let's take the little bus.

And the big bus got stuck in mud indeed. We win. The crap shoot. Today.


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One of the groups I am working with received a grant from the US Embassy and was suppose to come to a signing ceremony with the ambassador. Several people involved or sorta involved in the project were invited but were not provided transport. An area politician told them they must attend but failed to provide transport in time and did not attend herself. They arrived 1 and 1/2 hours late to the ceremony-which was by then over. The chairlady the only one who HAD to come and who HAD transport money was also detained with this group and missed the ceremony. I had to sign for them and shake the ambassadors hand. It was really embarrassing. For me and for the community.

On the way home that night we came across one of the volunteer teachers who had biked 40k to Chongwe to go to the ceremony just to arrive late and be turned back. It was dark and muddy, he hadn't eaten all day and was drunk. Saying "suffering for nothing! They sent a truck the letter saying we must come but then couldn't even provide us transport to go to the ceremony. Traveling with no lunch. Suffering for nothing! for nothing!" I told him not to be discouraged, we had all been disappointed but the project was still good. It was heartbreaking. It was a bad day.


I arrived in Lwimba late that night and it was really dark and super muddy but a boy who lives behind me, Chester, was walking home too and walked in front of me so I would know where not to step. He directed me over to the side of the path saying "Keli. These are the cows," which I had totally not seen. I got home and found I had lost a pouch full of money meant to be returned to a teacher. I switched the batteries in my headlamp and marched back to the market with a light brighter than most car headlamps - fuming and pitying myself the whole way. But then I found the pouch just where I thought it would be. Untouched. The Minibus driver and another man I know from the village where there and asked what I was doing out in the dark. I told them I had left this pouch- with money in it. "Ah you are very lucky then." Yes indeed. The village always redeems.



Ruben and I instigated a Christmas Party for the Anti-Aids club. We made cake and thought the party would pretty much be eating cake, listening to some Christmas music and going home. But then we found they had made all kinds of plans for food, a stereo system, and dancing. There was an agenda. Mr. Lungu the patron, myself and Ruben all made two speeches, saying pretty much the same thing six times. Only in Zambia do you open a party with a prayer.