The Future Revealed

"Camping"

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A few times a year the Mink’s take the children camping in the Kavango region to visit their families in the nearby villages. Camping serves two purposes – first for fun, it is a real treat for the kids and second Kavango is too far to travel to and fro in one day. Mrs. Mink and the other volunteers started talking about going camping the first day I arrived at the children’s home. I kept my mouth shut and lamented to God that this not come to pass while I was still here. Typically the Mink’s have only taken the older kids and do a boy trip and a girl trip. This time however the trip grew to include boys and girls of all ages – exclusions included the babies and kids with serious disciplinary problems. I was already outside my comfort zone with the heat, bugs, food, and water - camping with 38 kids in the bush of Africa? Someone shoot me please! The other volunteers were very excited – they had gone before and said it was an experience to be had by all – they said I wouldn’t regret it –hmm, I’ll be the judge of that!

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We left on a rainy Friday afternoon and reached camp just in time to set up and have dinner. To my surprise the camp had a thatch roofed bathhouse with a working toilet and shower and we volunteers got to set up camp on a raised platform off the ground – thank you Lord.

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"Omega III"

"Omega III old military compound"

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The next morning two vans set out with kids that had family in the nearby villages – the kids who didn’t have family went with Jessica on a mini safari. I went with Mrs. Mink to the eastern most villages (the farthest away). Omega III is the name of the village that many of the children came from. Omega III is a village that has overrun an old military compound from the war days. It has a bad reputation and the children had to have an escort with them at all times. As soon as we pulled into the village the local children started running and spreading the word that we were there. By the time we made it to the police barracks to check in we were surrounded by villagers – they knew who we had with us.

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"Marsela with Grandma, Aunties, and Cousins"

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Some of the children jumped out of the van and ran to their families with great delight – others hung back in trepidation. The family members consisted of grandma’s, aunties, uncles, cousins, and some brothers and sisters. I was amazed at how much bigger and stronger our children were in contrast to their families. While I was unable to understand the children and their families as the talked in their native language (Khwedum) the hugs, kisses, and tears said it all. The grandma’s and aunties poked and prodded at the kids bodies showing their approval at how strong and healthy they were. One grandma in particular pointed to her three granddaughters and gave me the universal “thumbs-up” sign multiple times. She then pointed to the Children of Zion logo on the van and again gave me the thumbs-up – smiling with great pride. Again I didn’t need to speak her language- I understood completely that she knew that her girls were in the best place they could be – hope twinkled in her eyes.

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"A proud Grandma"

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As much as the children at the home talk about being back with their families, their families do not want them to come back – not yet anyway. The kids at Children of Zion are the fortunate ones – they have escaped death, starvation, abuse, and poverty – they have a future worth living. None of the family members said goodbye to the children with remorse - they actually pushed the ones who were struggling to leave their families sides toward the van encouraging them to go. The next morning was Sunday and we had church service around the camp fire. I actually missed most of the service because I had traveled back to one of the villages to pick up two of the oldest kids who had stayed the night with their family. Mrs. Mink asked if anyone had any testimonies or thoughts to share from the weekend – silence fell around the campfire – I walked in and said “I do”. I told the kids that it was a great blessing for me to have visited their families with them. I shared what I saw – that their families were happy, proud even, to know that their children were so well taken care of. I told them that they were chosen by God to give hope for their families. I explained what hope was – I shared about my encounter with the grandma. I told them they were going to be ambassadors for God in their villages one day. I could see in their eyes that they hung on every word I said – they were filled with mixed emotions of visiting their families and understanding the squalor and depravity they left behind. The kids think they are the unfortunate ones, the ones thrown to the waste side – but NO – they are the chosen – one day they will understand that they were not left orphaned.

I’ll take a Rottweiler or Pit-Bull over a Boerboel any day!

"a South African Boerboel"

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There are three dogs at the village – Cassie and Mordechi are Boerboels and Lydia is some special breed used to herd goats. The boerboels are for protection and Lydia lives with the goats and herds them all day. Mordechi is a 9 month old flesh eating beast of a dog – he is unpredictable and absolutely does not like me. The Mink’s, Jessica and Melissa, have told me that he will warm up to me eventually – well it’s been 4 weeks and no change. Again I read an excerpt from a book that sums up my experience with Mordechi very nicely:
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“Sheeee-it!” said Magena. “I’ve never seen anyone do that to Mombo (in my case, Mordechi) before. Ha! And did you see the way my lion (dog) is such a clever boy? He went straight for the weakest link,” he said turning to me. “How do you like that? He sensed you were the wee-wee in the group and you were going to be snuffed (killed),” and he laughed. I attached myself as closely as I could to K (Jessica) and we negotiated the rest of the journey to the house. The lion (dog) tried again and again to insinuate his way past K’s legs (Jessica’s legs) and launch himself on me, but K (Jessica) roared at him and gave him a hefty kick in the chest and the lion backed down (actually Jessica took off her flip flop and beat the dog over the head several times).

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Mrs. Mink tried using a shock collar to teach Mordechi to leave me alone. She called me into the pen and he quickly charged me and chased me out the gate. Conjure up the most frightening satanic growl you can muster and that is what Mordechi sounds like when he is in kill mode. Mrs. Mink chuckled to her amazement that it took cranking the shock collar to 12 (it only goes up to 15) before the dog would back down. I was not chuckling – he’s actually gotten worse since then toward me – hmmm I wonder why. I really did try to suck it up – the kids kept saying “don’t act scared” – ya right okay I’ll try that. How do you not act scared? Beating him into submission is the only way the others have gotten him to leave them alone. I don’t have one ounce of the kind of back bone it would take to do that. One night Jessica and I were walking over to the main house for dinner and Mordichi came charging at me. Jessica pulled off her flip flop and went swinging to no avail. She grabbed his collar and he pulled her through the sand – she yelled “Tina run! I can’t hold him!” It was just like in the movies – I ran as fast as feet in soft sand can and when I reached the gate, I fumbled with the gate lock for what seemed like eternity before getting to the other side and pushing it shut against Mordechi’s mouth. I didn’t have time to relock the gate – I had to stand and push against the gate to keep him in. Jess got to the gate and locked it, freeing me from the struggle. I was so glad Jessica witnessed his behavior – he is chained up most of the day now – freeing me to walk about in safety. He broods as I walk by – I just know he’ll have a piece of me before I leave.

The Election:

"Zambezi River"

The king's heart is in the hand of the LORD, as the rivers of water:

He turneth it whithersoever He will.

Proverbs 21:1

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It is not a secret that I am a registered Republican. Over the last 8 years I have had many friends whose thoughts and opinions I admire greatly, soften some of my views toward the Democratic Party. I would be lying (although as you read further I have lied) to say that I am happy that Obama is our newly elected president – I’m not and in fact I am very concerned for the future of our country.
On the plane ride over to South Africa I sat near a man who was traveling home to visit his family because his father had recently died. We chatted back and forth about the usual – where are you from, what do you do for a living, the weather, but then the conversation turned to the upcoming election. He asked me if I was excited about Obama running for president – I said I was (white lie). He proceeded to tell me that he was still living in South Africa when the first free election was held, and now living in the U.S., he was working at the local Democratic board helping with Obama’s election campaign. He could not contain the smile on his face – it was infectious and even I could appreciate the historical implication that these elections were going to have on his life and many others.

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As my relationship with the staff members at the children’s home became more personal they felt comfortable to share their political favorite with me – Obama. They did not ask me whom I would choose – I think they assumed it would not be for Obama – I was glad not to have to explain. The staff were very aware of the position their boss took. Most mornings of the week start with staff devotions and the director of the children’s home (a white American) unabashedly asked for prayer for the upcoming elections – specifically that Obama not be elected as our next president. I was so embarrassed each time she brought this up – I would stare at the floor and hope the staff would not link me with her in their thoughts. I’m certain the staff feel vindicated – for that I’m glad. Two days after the election I was in town at the butchers picking up our weekly meat order and the man who runs the cash register asked me if I was unhappy about the outcome of the election. I thought his question was peculiar – he asked if I was unhappy not if I was happy which means he presumed I was against Obama for president. I told him I was happy for the historical event which just took place in the United States – a big day in history. He smiled at me forgivingly and shook his head and agreed with me exuberantly.

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Again I lied – why you might be asking. First of all there is no way I can overcome the language barrier to thoughtfully explain my political views and the reason I vote along the republican lines. Second I am sympathetic to the struggle black people have had to overcome in the past century. Who am I to dampen the hope in the people I meet in Namibia – they are proud and happy for Obama not because of Obama the man but for what he stands for – hope and freedom. As a citizen of the Untied States, in a country that has only known freedom for about 15 years, I am proud to be an American - I am proud that we have free elections and because of that freedom I will hold my head high and say yes I am glad Obama is President.

Finances:

"Very few people own cars – most commute on foot"

The minimum wage here is 2.36 Namibian which equates to less than $.50 US currency. Wages are paid on a monthly basis on the last day of the month. 95% of business is handled in cash.

Electric is pre-paid – you go to the electric company store and buy increments of electric. The receipt for payment has codes listed on it which you input into your meter. So you have to keep a close watch on your meter to make sure you don’t run out over the weekend. Not everyone has electric – this, too, is for the more fortunate. Candles are used for light in most homes. Cell phones and internet are also prepaid services. You purchase “recharge” cards, available at most stores in increments of 10, 50, or 100 minutes. The cards have a scratch off box which provides the code to activate the newly purchased airtime. The internet is run via cell phone towers.

The exchange rate from US to Namibian is running around 10%. Very few people own cars – most commute on foot. It would take more than a month’s wages for someone to buy a bicycle here. The cheapest one I’ve seen was priced at 800 Namibian ($100 US).

Holy Hotness!

"safari"

"out with friends"

It’s hot over here! Alexandra Fuller says it better than I can. The following is an excerpt from a book I recently finished by Alexandra Fuller, Scribbling the Cat - Travels with an African Soldier. She is describing the weather in the month of October in Zambia. Zambia and Katima Mulilo, Namibia are likening to the distance of Rochester and Buffalo in New York - so her description is right on:

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I’d forgotten how October eats at the landscape in the high lowveldt. It is the most discouraging time of year: long enough after the last rains so that they are barely worth the ache of remembering and too far until the next rains to waste the energy on hope. All signs of memorable excesses of ten months ago had disappeared and it was hard to believe that the same valley could accommodate such disparate worlds. The sky was cloudless but stained wildfire yellow and deep haze caught at the heat waves. Goats and donkeys stood with their backs to the sun and closed their eyes, panting (visibly rocking with every labored breath.) The ground around the villages was exposed, brick hard and grazed clean of vegetation.

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The Goba people say October is Gumiguru, meaning “month of the big ten”; November is the infinitely more hopeful Mbuzdi, meaning “month of goat fertility,” but October is big and ominous and obscurely ten. The Goba wisely avoid holding wedding and initiation ceremonies in October. White locals know it as suicide month. The Nyanja call it Mwenzi wa zuma, meaning “month of the sun”. They also call it Kusi piya (from kusi piya weka, “to kill yourself”). It is not a month to be toyed with.

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One might think that I should be happy for so much sun since Rochester is notoriously lacking in it. I suppose if I did not have to seek constant shelter from its rays and shower 2-3 times a day to wash the stink off my sweating body I might enjoy it. No amount of Gold Bond, baby powder, antiperspirant/deodorant, or talcum powder can compete with the amount of sweat that our bodies are generating from the heat in Namibia this time of year. Thank goodness we have electric so that we can run fans in the night while we sleep in our mosquito nets.

Living:

"mud hut"

"Lionga"

"Tina & Jennifer"

"little friends at soccer"

Within the town limits there are concrete houses with tin roofs but outside the town most of the houses are mud huts with grass roofs. It really is impressive to see these homes built. No indoor plumbing or bathrooms. Food is cooked on a pit outside. Pap, which is cornmeal cooked to a very thick consistency is the primary staple of most people’s diet. The diet here is high in carbs – no use trying to maintain the South Beach Diet over here because the variety of meat and vegetables is very limited. Certain dairy products are more abundant then others. For instance yogurt, crème cheese, and feta cheese seem to always be available, whereas milk is only available in shelf form (not refrigerated). It is true – coffee drinking is not the norm. It was a real treat to share a cup of coffee with a Peace Corp worker we had staying with us (Thaya).

Kids:

There are 58 kids here at Children of Zion (COZV). They range in age from 5 months to 18 years – 26 are teenagers! Each one of the kids has a story of abandonment, heartache, and pain. There are several hundred orphans running around Katima Mulilo, but the kids that have been placed here at COZV have been identified as high risk orphans. Illness, abuse, neglect, or the inabilities of a living family member to care for the child are some of the high risk categories.