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Dear All,
Well, I reckoned that it was about time I sent you all an update from Zambia, so here I am!
On a personal front, we are still living with Pete's mum, as work on our own place next door is taking longer than expected.
There are several jobs being carried out in tandem with one another: installing the perimeter fencing, ripping out internal
shelving etc. which needs replacing, knocking a hole through the adjoining wall which separated the main house from the 'annex',
and 'tweaking' aspects of the kitchen, here and there. None of it goes smoothly!! We hired a team of (supposedly qualified)
men, headed up by an elderly man, to erect the fencing. The first thing we find is that they don't seem to have a clue what
ratio cement/sand/stone to use, and nothing sets properly; then, when they haven't used a subsequent batch quickly enough,
and it begins to set, they try and add water to it (a big no-no in the world of builders!); and, finally, one of the men
(also elderly and completely short-sighted) decides to chop down a tree to make room for a fencing pole, but doesn't pay any
heed to which way the tree is going to fall - as a result, the tree fell onto the main power lines, plunging the whole of
the Misundu farming area into a power cut, and almost killing Peter and me in the process! We happened to be driving directly
beneath that section of the power line just as the tree hit it, and it was as if we experienced a lightning explosion inside
the car! Pete quickly moved the car to a safe distance away, whilst I was yelling at people near by to stay away and, in
particular, to prevent the children from walking anywhere near the area. We had to call out the electricity company to sort
out the problem, whilst Pete and a couple of the guys tied a rope around the tree and pulled it away from the power lines
and onto the trees behind it! What a carry-on! From that time on, we named that particular man 'the electrician'! Needless
to say, we didn't keep that team of men on, but had to graciously fire them! I have to say that I was sad, because they really
were so sweet and it was difficult to get mad with them!!
Work progresses very slowly here for a number of reasons, mainly that there is not the necessary expertise or professionalism
around. We've had pipes cut to the wrong size, round fencing poles, instead of square ones, delivered; one of our workmen
suddenly went crazy and had to be admitted into the psychiatric ward of the central hospital. Each day really is an unknown
quantity, and one has to be prepared for anything!
However, we are hoping that we can move in fairly soon. So long as we have the basics sorted out, ie. plumbing, electrics,
and security, we are prepared to rough it for a while.
I had my brother, David, and my Mama here for about 10 days, and it was so lovely to see them, although the weather was
pretty appalling, which meant we couldn't be out and about as much as we'd have liked. I was looking forward to showing
them around our new property, but I'm afraid their introduction to the place was less than appealing! Let me explain ...
over a week previously, Peter and I had cornered a 6 ft. Forest Cobra in a store room which adjoined one of the worker's quarters.
Now, I love snakes and, whenever I've caught them, I've always driven them out further into the bush, and released them.
This one, however, was very likely to slither its way into the worker's house, and being a very poisonous species, we decided
that we had to kill it, much to my consternation. After cornering and losing it repeatedly, we finally managed to kill it
and placed it in a plastic bag in our new freezer which we'd already installed in the kitchen, as I wanted to study it more
closely. However, I completely forgot about it, until Mama & David arrived. David expressed an interest in seeing it,
too, so as soon as we entered the house, accompanied by Mama, I took them straight to the kitchen and opened the freezer door.
The stench that hit us was the worst I'd ever smelt. Someone had inadvertently switched off the freezer, and the snake had
been slowly putrifying there for over a week!! Needless to say, we all made a bolt for the door (except for Pete, bless him,
who removed the thing outside, far from the house, to rot into the ground), and, as a result, Mama & David never got to
look around as the smell permeated the whole house. It took days to rid the place of the stench. Peter washed the freezer
out thoroughly, and left the doors open to ventilate it, but even now the smell returns if we close the freezer doors, so
we'll have to wash it out again with vinegar and place a bowl of bicarbonate of soda in it, as my Mum suggested, to absorb
any left over smells.
Well, since my last 'newsmail', I have had several more experiences which just highlight the desperate situation here.
Several weeks ago, I was driving Amanda to school in the morning, when I noticed a man lying on the side of the road near
one of the townships. He was convulsing in what was apparently an epileptic fit. I had a couple of passengers in the car
at the time, and they assured me that he would be alright in a few minutes. However, I couldn't get the image of him lying
there out of my mind and, as soon as I dropped Amanda off to school, I raced back to where I had seen him, and was horrified
to see that he was still there, although it had been a good half an hour since I'd first passed him. I was even more disturbed
to see that people were walking past him, and not making any attempt to help him. A couple of women leaned down to look at
him, but then walked on. I stopped my pick-up directly in front of him to protect him from any oncoming traffic as, by this
time, his convulsions had propelled him further onto the tarmac, and he was in danger of being run over. I asked a couple
of men to help me get him into the back of my van so that I could get him to hospital, but the answer I received was simply
that he would stop 'fitting' soon, and what was the point, anyway, as the hospital itself would probably just discharge him
without doing anything for him. I then noticed a couple of nursing staff walking along the road and I asked for their help.
They examined him and found that, to complicate matters further, he was also completely drunk. This combination scared me
as I knew that, if he vomitted, he stood the risk of choking and suffocating. I finally found a couple of people who helped
me to get him into the back of my van, and I drove very slowly to the casualty department of the hospital. When I arrived,
I had to wait for ages before someone came to attend to him. Two orderlies casually wheeled out a stretcher, and one of them
climbed into the back of the van, grabbed hold of one arm and one leg of the patient, and proceeded to drag him out; they
completely ripped his trousers, and almost broke his ankle as it had become lodged at a very awkward angle against the side
of the van, but the orderly hadn't even noticed because he was too busy joking and chatting with his colleague. I had to
yell at him to stop, and pay more attention to what he was doing. They finally got the man onto the stretcher and, without
a word to me or a backward glance, proceeded to wheel him into the building.
Several weeks later, I had to carry out the same task, this time with a lady whom I had found, collapsed unconscious on
the side of a main road. When I arrived at the same casualty department, I again had to wait for an age before anyone came
out. And whilst I was waiting, I was continually harassed by the security guard who was put out that I had driven up the
entrance ramp the wrong way; she was more concerned with insisting that I turn around and come in the right way, than with
the well-being of the patient, and I pointed this fact out to her - she stared at me for a few moments and then walked away!
Unbelievable!
Last week, as a church, we visited a hospice, split up into groups of 2 or 3, and just spent a while, praying with the
patients, singing to them, and giving them small packages containing some fruit, a drink, and some toiletries. It was sad
to see that many of the patients were young men and women, some only in their late teens or early twenties. However, strangely
enough, although these patients are simply there, waiting to die, there seemed to be more of a peace and tranquility over
the place than there was in Ndola Central Hospital which we visited in October. In fact, I had cause to visit a ward in
Ndola Central just a few weeks ago when I heard that one of the orphanage workers, who I hadn't seen for many months, had
been admitted. Her name was Irene, and I remembered her as such a bubbly, cheerful young woman. But when I walked into the
ward and approached the bed to which I had been directed, I truly didn't recognise her at all, and had to ask the women with
her whether this really was Irene. She was so painfully thin, and looked like a skeleton. She tried so hard to talk to me,
but couldn't as she was in obvious pain. Her breathing was laboured, and her eyes had a certain desperation in them. I felt
so heavy hearted and asked her whether she would mind if I prayed with her. She held my hand and, as I prayed, she went very
quiet, her breathing steadied, and she slipped into sleep. As I left, I asked the nursing staff whether there was anything
I could bring her, to which they replied: "Yes, please ... food." Peter and I made her some chicken soup, and
took it to her, along with some fruit juice, later that same evening. When we arrived, she was fast asleep, so we left it
with her mother who was sitting by her bedside. However, two days later, she passed away during the night. I was so devasted,
because I felt, somehow, that her death was unnecessary. I am fairly certain that she had HIV, and I know that there is no
real cure, but I am convinced that in a western hospital, she would have received the appropriate care and treatment which
would have prolonged her life, and reduced her pain. I guess that is one of the hardest things to deal with here: the futility
and pointlessness of the suffering one encounters at almost every turn.
On a more positive note, we have helped a young teenage girl to get medical treatment for a problem she has had for many,
many months. She approached us a couple of weeks ago and we arranged for her to have the recommended scans and examinations.
The problem was diagnosed, medication was prescribed, and she is now well on the way to recovery. It's lovely to see her
smiling and happy, now - such a contrast to how she was when she first came to us.
We were also approached by an 18 year old girl, called Jane, who is an orphan and who had been thrown out of her uncle's
house some time ago. She needed somewhere to stay and asked, also, whether we could give her work to do. We have accommodated
her in one of the small buildings on our property, temporarily, until we can arrange something better for her. For the past
few months, she has been taking on odd jobs to pay her school fees (kids here complete school much later than in the west
as, due to many reasons, their tuition is sporadic and interrupted) The fees amount to the grand sum of about $30 a year.
We have agreed to pay her school fees, supply all her necessary materials, and have also come to the following arrangement:
she will work with me in the house as a housemaid in the mornings and on Saturdays, for which she will be paid; she will
attend school, which fortunately, runs from 1pm until 5pm, in the afternoons; and she will do her homework and studies in
the evenings. This way, she will be able to complete her schooling, she will have somewhere to live, and will also be able
to make a little money to feed herself. In the meantime, though, as we have not yet moved into our place, we buy her basic
foods and necessities which sees her through.
Well, I shall sign off now. I hope you all enjoyed a very happy Christmas and New Year, and I hope that 2004 will be
a good year for all of you.
God bless,
Salwa
Letter 6
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