Down to the Water

The Zambezi plays an important role in the lives of all the people in the Mwandi area. The river is called ‘Lyambai’ which alludes to its unpredictable and stormy nature. During the floodtime it is a constant source of danger but it is also addressed affectionately as Yunene – the big one! This is because of the abundance it yields to farmers and fishermen. The cold season is coming to an end now and the day and night time temperatures rise as the level of the Zambezi falls.

Each year after harvest, many families who live inland, after having gathered in their maize and having stored it safely in the stick-woven bins on stilts and covering it by a thatch roof to keep out the rats, pack up their belongings and move down to the riverside. The elderly folks rather than face the journey and roughing it in a fishing camp often prefer to stay behind to watch over the other deserted properties.

All the belongings necessary for the 5-6 months away from home are packed into a two-wheeled scotch-cart that is drawn by oxen. The children generally do the packing. Cast-iron cauldrons, blankets, clothes, fishing nets for the men, conical basket traps for the women, paddles, even some caged hens. A variety of tools, axes, hoes, mortar and pestles, sacks of maize, pumpkins, the ubiquitous supermarket plastic bags filled with groundnuts and some 20l plastic containers for making sour milk and fetching water. Sleeping mats are left at home as new ones will be made from the reeds at the riverside.

The extended family now gathers in a circle in the yard to bid each other farewell. “Come back with the rains so we can prepare our fields,” Granny will remind them. “Go well,” is the blessing the parents and grandchildren receive. “Stay well,” is the reciprocated wish from the children and grandchildren for the grandparents. We’ll see each other- is said by all in a final farewell.

The womenfolk and younger children climb into the cart and sit at the front padded by the maize and the bundles of clothes. The father shoulders his axe and tugs the inside ox by the halter to set the cart in motion. The boys pick up their sticks which they will use to drive the cattle and they whistle and shout to push the herd forward. They travel ahead of the cart. Lurcher-like dogs assist the boys, nipping at stragglers’ heels and running up and down, barking self-importantly. It is a day’s journey to the riverbank, a journey choked by the dust stamped up by the cattle, jolted about in the unsprung bone-shaking cart and plagued by swarms of thirsty flies.

The last three kilometre stretch southward to the river is done at a trot. People and animals get excited as they near the river which will be their home and will supply most of their needs for the next half of the year. The cows smell the water and rush expectantly to slake their thirst.

The Zambezi spreads out before them. In front is a channel with a slowly flowing stream, like water in a lake. Across the water lie the grassy island pastures they know so well, fringed by the reeds they will use to weave sleeping mats and to build the fishing camp huts that will become their home. The moored dug-out canoe is unchained, bailed out and filled with belongings. They paddle over to the island pasture. Once the family and their possessions are safely landed on the other side, the cattle - directed from the canoe by the men and boys - are swum across. Fish - the bream, the catfish, the squeakers, the tigerfish and fry - are all available here. All good and necessary things and dynamic forces originate from the North according to the Lozi. The southward flow of the river; the South, the riverbank is the terminus where the journey ends.

Blessed are you among women

We have recently had another annual visit from pre-Med Students attending Davidson College, North Carolina. About 10 young people arrive for a three week stay with their tutor. While they are with us they keep a journal and reflect on a particular aspect of the hospital and its work with the Community which is of interest to them and later write it up as a paper. Once it is corrected and printed the hospital receives a copy.

However, it is not all academic work for them; they also generally turn their hand to something more practical and creative in an artistic sense. Some good artwork has been done over the years and they have decorated various wards and walls in the Hospital and Out-Patients with murals.

This year we have been building a new Maternity Ward, to help meet the Government Development Goal of having more babies delivered in hospital especially where there is substantial risk to either mother or child. Money from the Beit Trust was received for this and the building is now nearing completion. In the Coptic and Ethiopean Christian traditions, Mary is honoured as the black Madonna, applying an image from the Song of Solomon (1:5) “I’m black and beautiful, O daughters of Jerusalem…..” So it was suggested that a Black Madonna and child be painted in the ward of the new Maternity Unit.

We are painfully aware that it is only really fairly recently that those of us from the Reformed tradition began to appreciate Mary for her faithfulness, her purity, as the Mother of God and for her suffering as the Mater Dolorosa. However, the key ideas, we think, that are contained in the undisputedly stylised painted image of mother and child is that God’s Spirit blesses women of faith and God’s Spirit is active in the creation of new life.

Mary has been portrayed on our wall as an icon but for our women and mothers here she is much more. They share much of Mary’s identity as an impoverished peasant woman, living in a patriarchical and tribal society, a typical wife and mother of the time in an often drought- stricken, and politically and economically unjust society. We all tend to have a partially true image of Mary being quiet, humble and self-denying but from her appearances elsewhere in Scripture, Mary also emerges as a strong woman of ability and wisdom. Through her God brought down the proud and lifted up the lowly.

Woman are often seen here in Zambia as silent servants but their ministries reach out and touch many. As daughters, mothers and grandmothers they will agree with Mary that: "Surely from now all generations will call me blessed.” Luke (1:48)

What's in a name?

Lozi personal names are interesting and you can also see similarities and parallels with Gaelic and English nomenclature in Scotland. Most names in use come from SiLuyana the name given to the dialects that were originally spoken along the Zambezi and fairly widely in Western Province. It is generally agreed the people now called Lozi are of Congolese origin and established a Kingdom in this area in 17th Century. They were then called the Aluyana.

The name Lozi was acquired in 19th Century when in 1840 the Makololo an offshoot of the Southern Sotho under their leader Sebitwane overran the Luyana Kingdom after fleeing from Chaka the Zulu King during the Mfecane. The Makalolo ruled till 1864 when they in turn were overthrown by an Aluyana uprising. The Makololo men were wiped out but their women and children became part of the Luyana people. This made Sikololo, the language become the linga franca in Western Province. Sikololo then became Silozi which is a hybrid language, about 75% of the vocabulary Sotho in origin and 25% is Luyana

Names of Sotho origin are small in number but are widely used. They tend to have been inspired by the Bible. Below are some of the more commonly used:

Lifela - Vanity; Likezo -Deeds; Liseli -Light; Masiliso -Consolation; Musa -Mercy; Muhau -Grace; Pumulo -Rest; Sepo -Hope; Sepiso -Promise; Tabo -Joy; and, Tabuho -Thanksgiving. They can be used by either sex.

The Senior Chief here at Mwandi is called Inyambo Yeta. These names are pure Siluyana and not Sisotho. Inyambo means a helper and Yeta is one who makes a vow.

Both Luyana and Sotho names are part of the cultural heritage of the Lozi people of which they are proud and use both feely.

Mubita

We received good news last week. Ida had been in Lusaka helping Trevor Parr, the New Zealand Missionary Doctor and his wife, Helen, to jump through the various bureaucratic hoops necessary to register and to work here. But earlier in the week Ida handed the ‘Consent to Adoption Forms’ in to the Ministry of Social Welfare as part of the process for us to adopt Mubita.

It has taken since January to get this far. We had managed to get the paternal and maternal sides of Mubita’s family to complete the forms, and were greatly helped in this matter by Brian the District Social Welfare Officer. He’s the only social worker for a population of 90 000. The forms had then been signed and stamped by the Magistrate at a hearing with all concerned present at the end of June, and given to Ida to submit in Lusaka.

On Thursday morning she was given a letter by Social Welfare granting permission for the Adoption Hearing to be held at Sesheke at the Court’s convenience. Hopefully it will not be too long before we are granted a slot at Court. Once the Adoption Order is granted all that remains is a trip to Register House in Lusaka for an amended Birth Certificate, showing us as parents. We were granted the initial Committal Order for Mubita in October 2007. We had to foster him for a year before we could start adoption proceedings. So it is wonderful now that finally we are beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel.

Church and State

On Sunday we visited Mabumbu Church, a bush congregation about 25km from Mwandi. The Church is another traditional daub and wattle and thatched affair. We went with Dorothy, the Consistory Chair for the Woman’s Christian Fellowship. Ida was preaching, it was Mothering Sunday and she talked about Women in the Life and Teachings of Jesus (Gen 1:27 & Mark 16:9). She closed by exhorting the men to love their wives as Jesus loves the Church and to encourage and help their wives to participate fully in ministry throughout the Church. This was met by a loud and heartfelt 'AMEN!' - from the women’s side of the Church!

We were invited to lunch in the vestry afterwards. Another traditional building with sacks and buckets of maize stacked around the walls. It had been Harvest Thanksgiving last week and from the amount that has been offered it is clear that there has been a good harvest this year. The meal was village roasted chicken, kail and inshima, followed by sour-milk, the leftover inshima and sugar mixed together to make a favourite Lozi pudding. It is an acquired taste admittedly but nonetheless we enjoyed wonderful hospitality. We were sent on our way spiritually and physically fed and with the gift of a pumpkin as well.

Such generosity from some the most materially poor of this earth, but some of the richest spiritually.

As regards school the most recent pre-occupation has been the preparations for building the next 1x3 classroomblock for the High School under construction and funded by CEVAA, the French Church. Work should start on that next week, as we will sign the contract with the builder on Wednesday. Through the help of Synod we have procured the cement at factory prices and minus VAT which has helped to reduce our costs.

Last Friday there was the trip to the quarry to order the 30m3 of crushed stones for the foundations and slab. This was paid for with a brick of cash withdrawn from Livingstone the day before. There is not a stone to be found at Mwandi and nothing between Kazungula and Sesheke. The quarry is 87km away from the school and the cost of the fuel to transport the load is twice as much as the cost of the stones! On the other hand builder’s sand is much less of a problem in Mwandi!

The investigations at the Ministry of Health rumble on with more arrests and court appearances. Both the teachers and nurses nationwide have been on strike in a pay dispute. The staff at our Hospital and School continued to work. While they supported the actions of their colleagues in the urban areas because of the greater effect industrial action taken there would have, they felt striking here would only harm our people.

The Hospital itself continues to survive financially by the Grace of God. There has been no Government Grant for the Hospital since April, but by careful stewardship and eking out our meagre resources we have managed to run the hospital, feed our patients and run the ambulance up until now. In these financially straitened circumstances the Hospital is gratefully accepting payment in kind from patients: maize, beans, chickens, etc.

Theekin Nests and Snouts in Troughs

Recent headlines from both Zambia and Britain have had a depressingly similar ring to them. Politicians and other public servants allegedly stealing or misusing public funds and engaging in activities that enrich themselves at the expense of ordinary citizens.

You’re all probably scunnered by the surfeit of reports of the jougerie-pawkery at Westminster; we are being treated to the spectacle here of operations coming to a standstill this week at Ndeke House – the Ministry of Health. Over 30 civil servants employed by the Ministry of Health have been suspended while a K27 billion scam is investigated, this is seemingly not the only one either, but could be the tip of the iceberg. Charges are expected to include obtaining money by false pretences, abuse of authority and forgery. This all really came to light and the alarm was raised when it became apparent that too many civil servants, public officers and government officials were living at levels far in excess of their earned income and many of the lodges, farms, houses, plots and businesses in the Lusaka area were owned by people working for the Government. Questions were asked how all this wealth was accumulated on modest civil service salaries.

The wonderful thing is that this investigation into matters at the Ministry of Health has apparently been given the go-ahead from the highest level. In the past the culture of plundering and looting by officials and politicians was entrenched and there was little accountability at any level of government, so asking citizens to account for their wealth is a relatively new concept here. The consequences has been to deny millions of needy Zambians access to healthcare which they desperately need but which at the best of times is limited and frankly inadequate.

How has all this affected Mwandi Mission Hospital, then, you may ask? Well, the grant from the Government has fallen from K16m (GBP 2000) in the Halcyon Days of President Mwanawasa to K4.5m (GBP500) for the past 4 months. In December we received nothing – obviously Christmas bonus time for someone somewhere but not for our patients here! We have been told to expect nothing for this month and next month.

The CHAZ (Churches’ Health Association of Zambia) Mission Workers (ancilliaries), paid but not employed by the government, went unpaid from September to February. We learned by investigation that the salary money in January was approved by the Ministry but was ‘diverted’ internally, so it never reached CHAZ – the Mission Hospital's Body. They will not be paid again until this mess is cleared up.

We could not appoint another Doctor in our establishment as the positon for Mwandi was being filled by the notorious Dr Michael Mouse. The Government had officially allocated 11 government Health Worker posts to Mwandi. We ended up with an allocation of three cleaners, two of whom drive our ambulances and the third is our cashier! The payslips for the other eight deployed elsewhere inadvertently arrived at our office.

Another contributing factor to hastening this action may be that Sweden and the Netherlands have frozen funding to the health sector until investigations are concluded. Naturally we have had the usual crocodile tears begging the two countries to reconsider their freezing of financial aid because ordinary Zambians are the ones who will suffer. But ordinary Zambians are likely to continue to do so if funding is resumed without a comprehensive audit being done to ensure those suspected of corruption are prosecuted and safeguards put in place to ensure better governance, accountability and transparency.

Our TB patients, the HIV+ mother and baby, the chronically malnourished children suffering from dysentery and malaria and the lowly paid ancillary staff who attend them, suffering here and elsewhere nationwide deserve no less.

Changes and Challenges

Since our last update we have lost Mrs Kapenda Mwangala Matamola. She died in childbirth two weeks ago from a ruptured uterus; the baby was still-born. It is at times like this when you realise how remote and isolated you actually are and how poor the medical facilities are in developing countries and how dangerous for women in these places childbirth can still be.

Kenny, her husband, is a colleague at the school; the family are devastated. She leaves three young boys and a number of related orphans they look after. She is not only a great loss to the family but she is also sorely missed at Church and in the Hospital. Mwangala was in her early thirties and an Anamoyo with a beautiful singing voice. She worked hard and quietly behind the scenes and always went the extra mile. Mwangala was assigned to the Out Patients Department as a cleaner and helped and supported her colleagues there. She also was a much-loved and respected Psycho-Social Counsellor at the AIDS RELIEF Centre.

The school term has just started again after Easter, so there is the thrice-yearly rush to try and scrape the school fees money and the other requisites together for those pupils at High School (K300 000 or about GBP40.00). So as our cold season approaches, two heart-warming stories related to this.

Last Thursday we got up and as Ida drew open the curtains, there was a hunched female figure happed up in a hood and jacket against the cold, steaming breath and raking the sand in our yard. She had already piled and cleared the fallen leaves from under the guava trees. This is the first task a dutiful Lozi daughter/wife undertakes first thing in the morning – The Cleaning of the Lapa (the yard). It was Mubuyaeta, one of my girls whom I first taught in Grade 7, now in Grade 10. All she said was - I wanted to thank you for helping me.

Later the same day, another auld acquaintance, Oliver, turned up on the doorstep with some mysterious object under his arm and wrapped up in a supermarket plastic bag. After being ushered ben, he proceeded to reveal this grotesque, half-smiling, half-yawning carved wooden crocodile and invited me to buy it. The only use for it I could conceive of, was perhaps at a Javanese shadow puppet performance of Peter Pan. So I asked Oliver what he needed the money for. To buy school shoes was the answer. Well, we have just received a container with amongst other things shoes. I told him to wait and went over and naughtily selected two pairs – a hard-wearing and sensible Doc Martin type shoe and another long pointed modern affair, they call them ‘modern’ but to my mind they are a regression to the Middle Ages in style. He looked dubiously at the Doc Martins but his eyes lit up and smiled as he coveted the other pair. Ah, we call these shoes, pointers, in Zambia…………….. were his words.

Today early in the morning I was out burning the rubbish at our pit in the garden. I was suddenly aware of two small chittering, bare-foot figures, clad only in shorts and T-shirts watching me. I greeted them. They were a Grade 5 & Grade 6 boy and both orphans. They had been raking through the coups at the Mission to see what they could find. They were now wanting permission to pick guavas and lemons, only because I was there, I assume. I confess, at their age, I used to go raiding for apples in the autumn but not for my breakfast.

The container with its store of winter clothes, shoes and blankets came to the rescue again.