Church in Zambia

Church ... one of those words that evokes feelings for most people. Be it good or bad. Going to church weekly does not make you a Christian, neither does not going make you a non-believer. Either way there are always those that go and those that do not. I have friends and family that do not go because they were "forced" or indoctrinated whilst growing up; got the Bible shoved down their throats and thus feeling fed up with the whole thing. I, on the other hand, had limited exposure to church and the bible growing up. One of the only things I ever remember as a child was that my mother bought me a children's bible with beautiful drawings when I was 12. We hardly ever went to church, other than weddings and funerals. Also sometimes when my mom's brother sang in the choir on special occasions.

Then we moved to the suburbs in standard six (grade 8). Church was around the corner and it was expected to go. After living in a residential hotel in central Pretoria for years, we suddenly had to fit in with the 'burbs. Quite an adjustment, the only child of a divorced mother in an area where "proper" families reigned. To this day one of the girls that befriended me there, is still a part of my life. (Thank you Louise.) The irony is that the "proper" families had issues all of their own. In fact, I think I had it more "together" than any of those youngsters. I had already seen and experienced things way beyond my years. I digress. Church. I tried to fit in. I didn't. I didn't believe. In fact, one day after attending another painful Sunday school session, I told my mom I am not going back. So much of fake and show was too much for me. I kept my word and never went back (then).

As life progressed though, so did my beliefs. The minister two weeks ago put it so nicely again when he talked about the holy sacrament of being baptised. Some people have an epithany and are reborn at a specific space and time. Others, like me, have a gradual enlightenment through various events or people. A soft glow that eventually turns into a fire. You only need one spark to burn down a house. Or some tiny thing that can break down walls that have been erected around your heart.

At university I finally felt "ready" to take the step of going through cathecism. This was after long sessions of pastor Ed at Hatfield Christian church (may he rest in peace). I turned to our local Dutch Reformed church. That was where I met Ds. Piet. (His son also became a minister and married one of school friends.) Ds Piet put both my mother and I through an adult version of the cathecism that I renounced years before. And I was baptised. My choice, my decision. An outward agreement and pledge that I believe. Yes. I believe.

Why is it important today? Why is it important to go to church? For me it is simply the kinship of fellow believers. You can pray by yourself, you can read or study the bible by yourself, but being among people that share a common belief, it makes you feel like you belong. It gives structure to your life. A safe haven. A place where you can turn to where you know you will be welcome. Irrespective of your background or how you came to be there. That is the reason why one of the first things I did in Zambia was to find a church. I am lucky, I have a church locally where I can be served in my mother tongue. Not all of my expatriate South African friends are that lucky. We are doubly blessed, because when we do not want to travel the 50 Odd kilometres to the Afrikaans church, we go to the Fellowship where the praise and worship is a joy. The formal vs the informal, best of both worlds. Small steps into making a life in Zambia.

Botswana travels

First... I must confess... I do not really like Botswana. It is more of a ''passing through" on the way to nice places. However, listening to some people, I think it is a case of not having been to the right places yet.

It is also a bit of a white lie. One of my most profound memories is a Botswana one, stemming from way back in 1996. We stayed over at the Cresta Mowana, which even today is still the flagship Cresta hotel in Botswana. Early morning, way before breakfast, I was walking along the Chobe river. I heard that amazing distinctive call and stopped dead in my tracks. There it was! A fish eagle swooping down, stretching out its' talons, grabbing a fish out of the Chobe's rapid water. Then there was another! I could not believe my luck. The pair swooped and flew around for quite some time. It was my first (and thus far only) sighting! It was awesome!

There are more pleasant memories. Come to think of it, most of the good memories are on the northern side of Botswana. The road between Nata and Kasane, depending on your timing, is rife with wildlife. I have seen elephant herds, some lone jumbos, wildebeest, buffalo and the odd buck. Giraffes are also spotted. All in all, a good road and worthwhile sightings. Some potholes between Francistown and Elephant sands (beyond Nata), but not too bad.

Another one was the trip through Maun on our way to Namibia. The area is well-known as the gateway to the Okavango Delta, by itself, quite a nice area. There is a lovely lodge on the banks of the river by the name of Island Safari lodge. Good food and clean rooms.

On the other hand, try not to travel during the "Foot and mouth" season with too many shoes from South to North or vice versa. At the veterinary stops you need to walk through totally disgusting treated water to supposedly get rid of any possible contamination. Even shoes you are not wearing at the time, or have worn during your short transit visit, must be dragged through the water. For a lady that likes to match her shoes to her outfit, totally devastating! Of course with a loving husband on the side laughing his ass off ...

Overall, not too bad. Very expensive though. All food are totally overpriced in restaurants and hotels, as I am forever converting into Rand. Even in Pula though, they are expensive! Sixteen Pula for a Coke with dinner! Ouch

Thoughts on real estate and TIME!

The one thing that I still need to really understand, is the African concept of time. Or should I say the lack thereof? For two days running, I am waiting for over an hour for meetings scheduled, where I arrived precisely on time. Both of these meetings were real estate related. The following options are on the table: 1) Estate agents think that you have as much time available as they do; or 2) They don't own watches; or 3) They are messed around so often by prospective clients that they end up not giving a damn.  That is after the complete mission to actually find a decent real estate agent where the one in question and trying to get your business, is not accompanied by an entourage in a beaten down vehicle and asking for petrol money, to show you the supposed available adobe in question. And then... you get to these places which they want to sell to you at the equivalent of a million Rand and you think: "Ok, people live here. Every day. How bad could it be?" The answer to that, of course, is BAD, very BAD! In fact, my mind boggles at the concept. (Btw it is now an hour and a half later and STILL waiting.)