So many people have asked me what Zambia is like, and after being here for 3 months, I still feel like I can't do it justice. But perhaps I can give you a few snapshots.
My first full day in Kitwe was a Sunday-- my first time to worship at Riverside Baptist Church. I remember the deacons shaking my hand and telling me, "You are most welcome here. We have been praying for you." I remember Musonda, a university student and now a dear friend, telling me with a grin, "Kayla has told me all about you. We were praying that you would be moved to Zambia and now the Lord has answered."
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Every Wednesday we have Bible Study with a few young ladies in the township of Ndeke. I will never forget the first week I went with Kayla to the Zulus' home. As soon as I stepped inside, a woman I had never met before greeted me with a hug. "My other daughter has arrived! Alyssa, you are most welcome here! Feel at home. Or, as we like to say, 'feel at house!' " Her contagious laughter told me we were already family. The same laugh echoed by her sister, Cynthia, as she brought in dish after dish that she had prepared for us to eat before Bible Study.
"I already know you, Alyssa-- can I call you Aly?-- and I bet you can guess who I am!" Cynthia said. And before I could tell her that I could guess, she continued on; "We are thankful to God you are here. Now this is your first Zambian meal, isn't it? Let me tell you what everything is." She beamed with approval and amusement as I carefully rolled my nshima in my hand and used it to scoop up some kapenta.
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A sweet family lives on the same plot as us, and also happens to go to our church: Wezi, Precious, Wezious, and Praise. Don't even get me started on how adorable those names are together. Wezious is not a shy three year old, and by the end of week one I was Auntie Alyssa to her.
"Auntie Alyssa, come and see!" as she reveals any of a number of treasures she has found to play with.
"Auntie Alyssa, what's deez?" as she points to something she doesn't know how to say in English.
"Auntie Alyssa, look, mah baby!" as she proudly carries her one-year-old sister, whose feet are nearly dragging the ground.
Between her bits of English and my very few Bemba phrases, we get along quite well.
Between her bits of English and my very few Bemba phrases, we get along quite well.
Each of these people has grown to be an important part of my life here, but it's not just friends and church family who have welcomed me. Everywhere I go, Zambians flash their brilliant smiles and extend the same warm greeting. Everywhere I go, strangers become friends. The guy who weighs produce at the grocery store. The girl who works at the gelato shop. The man at the post office who deals with international packages.
Even the Zamtel workers, who we complained to every week until our internet was fixed, weren't deterred by our American impatience. "Kayla and Alyssa, welcome! Have you learned any more Bemba? Do you remember the words I taught you?" our friend Benjamin says as he launches into an impromptu language lesson which lasts far longer than our customer service inquiry.
That is what Zambia is like. It's not a complete picture, but maybe the most vivid part to me right now. Some days I am struck with the pride I brought with me when I traveled to this side of the globe. I thought I was coming here to teach something, but far more often I feel like I am the one who has something to learn. The precedence relationships should take. The art of making others at home. One more way of being the hands and feet of Christ.
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