It’s about an hour and a half to the Village of Hope from Lusaka on the Great North Road. There’s a lot of construction as they are making it a 4-lane road, so far, barely beyond the city, but the plans are in place for 4 lanes all the way to Kabwe. It’s a huge project.
I still can’t get used to the cars on the left side of the road and often think they’re coming straight for us. We did a lot of shopping and errands in the city before heading to the Village. Every trip to Lusaka which can cost $150 in gas alone, needs to be multi-purpose.
I can’t get over all the green. The last time I was here, it was towards the end of the dry season and land was aching for water. This time, the fields are lush with green grass and trees.
As we drive up the road, at first I am struck by the flimsy buildings that line the road, peppered with fruit stands of mangoes and various bags of who knows. But then, I get it. This is entrepreneurship at its most basic. Whether it’s items they have made or gathered, it’s a living. And although it may feel like a kind of blight along the road, is our Route 40 with its brick and mortar and brute signs any better? These things evolve and when we see them every day, we lose perspective. It’s the sudden drop into a culture that catches us by surprise.
There are many communities along the way of the road, but they are unseen, either behind a privacy wall or along a perpendicular road that cuts back into the bush. There are very few paved roads, just dirt roads that wave with ruts. It’s supposed to be the rainy season now but the rain has held off (for Lusaka, a blessing, for the rains would exasperate the cholera bacteria). But I can imagine how these roads must look as mud. Well, no, actually I can’t. But soon enough.
It’s a hotel. My window is open and it’s January. Yep, honey, this ain’t Maryland.
This is my first trip post retirement and it’s lovely. Granted, my brand new Christmas gift suitcase got destroyed on the way and the Johannesburg airport carousel was littered with my underwear, but it all worked out. It’s a story now.
I am here because my host, Benedict, who picked me up along with Muzo (rhymes with Ouzo), had some errands to run in Lusaka before heading back to the Village of Hope. They also have to make another human pick up (Gipepe, that spelling can’t be right), who is the Village doctor, an amazing woman I met once before in Maryland when they were visiting stateside. There’s a cholera outbreak here and it makes everyone nervous, but it’s mostly in the poorer areas. Nonetheless, bottled water is everywhere, and still I almost brushed my teeth with sink water. Habits die hard.
But that is the point. I am here to serve and work at the Village, true. I am also here to break down the every day habits, to discover the me I’ve lost in the busyness of my life that has been on automatic pilot for too long. I want to be more conscious. And integrated.
And it’s time to write again. Here yes. Also on my Meditations blog, as God leads. And maybe, just maybe, another story may be birthed as well. Slow down. Listen.
Watch the trees bend to the wind and leaves flutter outside my window.