May Journal Entries

PHOTO OF LIANNE

MAY 25th, 2000

MAY 18th, 2000

MAY 5th, 2000

MAY 3rd, 2000

MAY 1st, 2000

APRIL ENTRIES

MARCH ENTRIES

FEBRUARY ENTRIES

PHOTO OF LIANNE

As an added treat we have a picture of Lianne from the Daily News in Harare.  Lianne mentioned in her March 12th Journal Entry that she had been photographed by the local Newspaper.  Here is the photo along with the captions from the paper...

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MAY 25th, 2000

Five (5) EXHILARATING things that I will miss about being in Africa:

1. Bathing.

Sometimes the water's hot, sometimes it's cold. You never really know.

I've been lucky enough to live in a house equipped with a shower (praise the Lord!), but not everyone has access to such luxuries. The frequency of my using it, however, is shockingly low. So low, in fact, that I won't even say.

The best part about showering, when I do get around to it, is the dirt. Here I am thinking that I've developed some sort of a tan, and there it goes, down the drain!!  It's so satisfying to get out of the shower and feel clean!

I get a mini-bathing experience every time I wash my hands. I really had no idea that so much dirt could accumulate on one's hands in such a short amount of time! (Maybe it's the circles of street youth I run in...) It's great to wash them though.... after about the third soaping, the water rinses clean!

2. Mealies.

This is the magical staple food that people couldn't live without here. Mealies are in the Maize family - a cousin of corn, we could say. Usually it is ground into Mealie Meal, and bought in big sacks.

Its most common form is SADZA. Zimbabweans eat it every night. There is Sadza neNyama, Sadza neVeggie, Sadza neDovi, Sadza neRelish... it pretty much tastes great with anything. The advantage to Sadza is that it is sticky and pliable, so you don't actually need any utensils. You just form a ball of it and use it to pick up your side dish in little convenient bites.

In the morning, there is Mealie Meal Porridge. My favourite way of eating it is with lemon and sugar. mmm.... sticks to the ribs.

Then we have something which I can't pronounce, but it starts with an 'M'. This breakfast treat is yesterday's Sadza reboiled. As I understand it, its kind of a lumpy-watery texture, whereas the porridge is like a thick soup.

Moving into the snack section, Mealies are either roasted and eaten hot with salt, roasted and eaten cold with salt or roasted and shucked for later - with salt. My personal fave snack is Maputi. There are many kinds of Maputi, but essentially it's all popcorn.

Lastly, there is Chibuku. It's the local Zimbabwean scud. This alcoholic drink is thick and chunky with mealies. (The homemade kind is made by the scrapings of the Sadza pot.) I've often tried to taste it, but can't get past the smell. There seems to be a yogurt type ingredient, as well. It's drunk out of a litre sized barrel, and I am not accustomed to drinking fermenting yogurt mealie scud out of barrels, so that is where my cultural experiencing stops. (I ate a worm - what else do you want?)

The plan is for me to bring home some mealie meal, but with all the glorious ways to eat it (minus the last one) I don't think it will last too long!

3. Locking doors.

Every night there is a ritual. We lock the gate, the iron bars crossing the door, the door itself, the kitchen door, the living room door, the dining room door, the bathroom door, the bedroom door, etc. This way there are numerous locked doors between you and the potential intruder. All the windows have lovely decorative iron bars on them, too. Before we leave the house for the day, all the doors are locked again. It makes for a mad dash when you have to pee at the end of the day: running into all sorts of locked doors.

Its not that zim is dangerous, because it's not really, but it's just for extra safety... for example, one time someone tried to get in the house through an open bathroom window, but the bathroom door was locked and who wants to steal something from a bathroom? 

Anyway, I'll feel very naked to the elements and to the world of Toronto, when I don't even have a wall around my house, let alone 30 locked doors to guard me as I fall asleep.

4. Helmets.

Perhaps helmets themselves aren't exhilarating (refer back to title), but the fact that I should have one ready at all times is. I never know what mode of transportation I'll be using. Lately it's happened to be motorbikes -don't tell my mum - so I've borrowed a friend's helmet. Quite often I find myself in the back of a pick up truck, or squashed in a combi, or on the top of the trunk of the car.

I am no longer used to riding shotgun in a roomy LeSabre, though. That will take some getting used to again.

5. People.

By far, the best aspect of my experience in Zimbabwe.

Everywhere I turn is someone amazing doing something amazing. I am constantly surprised by the generosity, concern and love these people have for one another. There is a lot of poverty, a lot of pain, a lot of sickness here and people who have very little are sharing it with a willing heart. It's pretty inspirational to see people genuinely caring for and looking out for one another.

I don't think it's a distinctly African thing. I just think my eyes are opened to so much more because I am in a new place, away from my routine, my family, my city. I have been blind to so many things in Toronto, because I'm always so busy going about my life with all my appointments and priorities. It's refreshing to see people in a new way.

P.S. I wonder who thought it was funny that I wrote "five (5)"? I thought it was pretty funny, but then I'm pretty tired.

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MAY 18th, 2000

My day started in the most annoying of ways... I was on the combi and it was pleasantly spacious, because I go against the flow in the mornings. As I rooted around in my wallet for correct change I put my newspaper down on my lap for a second and the man next to me asked if he could take a look at the headlines. Well, sure. So I gave it to him and found my change. I was really looking forward to reading that paper - brought it especially for the 15 minute ride to school. Well I waited and I waited, but he never finished with it. What kind of man takes a lady's paper from her and reads it all the way to town? Did he forget it was mine?  Is there no justice in this world?

Oh well... life goes on. I haven't really written in a while and I realize that when I do write it's not a whole lot about the work that I'm actually doing in Zimbabwe. So I'll be sure to keep that up. I'll start by talking a little bit about the school.

If you recall, I teach a grade two class of "street kids" at City Presbyterian Church. By street kids, I mean kids who are so destitute they can't afford school fees. Some are actually on the streets, with no family. Many are on the streets with a poor family somewhere. Others live with their poor families in a bad area of town. All of them need schooling and can't afford it. We kind of offer a second rate education - I can say that, because I'm a teacher, and I know I'm not ideal. The staff is essentially
voluntary, with the exception of the director, and they have little or no training in education. They love the kids though, and I guess that's the important thing.

The day starts with a half hour gathering with songs and a Bible lesson. (While the kids are arriving and getting all decked out in their uniforms). Then we break into our class groups and the individual teachers take it from there. Our class' subjects are Math, English, Shona and Reading - occasionally Art. Now I have a grade two class, but the ages are across the board; our youngest is 8 and our eldest is 15. Although the supplies are minimal, and the time is short, these kids want to learn more than anything: They are SO much more well behaved and they respect authority far more than any North American kids I've known. I never hear any whining or fighting really, which is surprising, considering they are street kids and
you'd think they were the "bad apples" or something. (This reflects children here in general - I never, ever see or hear any conflict between kids and parents in public, or in the homes that I've been in).

My fabulous co-teacher, Martin, and I take turns teaching and helping the kids through the various subjects. That is, after we've taken half an hour to get through the date... you'd think after months, the kids would be able to write the date on their own. The most frustrating part is the language difference. We want them to learn English, so we try to speak it as much as possible, but it's so much easier just to use Shona. They have a real difficulty speaking English - forming sentences properly - although they can understand most of it.

I love my class so much. I didn't really realize how much I became attached to them, until after the April break, and I came back and was so happy to see them. It's so great when we are reading and one of them shouts "Lianna, Lianna" over and over, pointing to the word "play", and needing me to say it for them, so they can mimic it. They are so happy with the few books and papers they have! They get so exited every single time I take out their reading books. Maybe I have to get in touch with my childhood side, but how exiting can the same story about Chipo and the red ball be?

At tea time, the kids all sit outside lined up on the step, waiting for their tea. They each get two pieces of bread with a little peanut butter, half an egg, half an orange, and a cup of tea. They all wait patiently until everyone has food, and until they've said grace. It's pretty impressive to watch all those hungry tummies wait patiently for food, and not squabble with each other.

In the afternoons we do art with them sometimes, and on Tuesdays a drama group comes for an hour and they do dancing and traditional music. Then many of them have to go back to the streets to beg for money... they have to bring home money to support their parents, siblings or any other family members living with them.

So that's the school. I'm also doing various things at Emerald Hill Community Church - helping with Children's Church on Sundays, mostly. Then there's the Youth for Christ stuff, which I've talked about recently, I'm sure. Although I'm quite busy with my various projects and placements, I still feel far more relaxed than at home. The culture is far less time concerned, and as a result I feel less stress around me. It's a welcome change.

I hit the halfway mark on Sunday - woop woo! Home on August 10th.

Supposedly the elections are now set for the 24th and 25th of June.... we'll see how that goes.

One last thing before I go: I was walking down the street after school today and a vendor on the street stopped me, and showed me a colour picture in today's paper. I screamed with laughter, because it was me! Again! That makes two appearances in the paper in three months! And this isn't even my country! The picture is of Ingeborg and I dancing at HIFA, the arts festival in Harare a couple of weekends ago. (I would have seen it this morning, had I been able to read my paper on the bus). I don't know how he recognized me (I have big plaited hair extensions now, which my friend Pauline gave me) but he did! It is all quite humorous. My friend Bill noticed and brought the paper to Bible Study tonight, too. I am so famous... I hope Canada is ready to give me the same media attention when I return, or else I'll feel neglected.

Ndapedza. Ndicharara zvinozvino.
Ndichanyora a mangwana - muchaverenga, here?
Chisarai zvakanaka, shamwari!

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MAY 5th, 2000

Physical space has a different meaning in Africa. I'd say that it was a Shona characteristic, but I'm fairly convinced that the difference runs straight across Africa. People are not afraid of touching each other.

In the home, people are used to living with less space - lots of family members live in one or two rooms, sharing beds and clothes. Little children do not have their own bedroom and favourite couch and spot at the dining room table. People do not have special rooms to store things, special rooms to wash things, special rooms to display things. Families live in much closer contact - and with less conflict it seems. (But that is a whole other journal entry.)

On the bus, 16 people are absolutely squeezed into each other, so that your entire body is squashed up against someone else. People squiggle and shove and prod as necessary, to fit the required amount of passengers into the vehicle. The conductor squeezes through everyone to collect fares - people pass each other's money, make change for each other, and deliver change to each other. There is no such thing as personal space. People do not give dirty looks to their fellow passengers because they just used your knee as a lever, or because their baby is resting on your back a little. Being squashed on the bus is not an inconvenience, though, as it would be in
Canada. It just makes the most sense - why drive an empty bus?

There is one space for everyone, not many individual spaces for each of us.

Eye contact and greetings are a must. While walking down the street, people always say hello and smile. Social norms say that in a home, or in a store, or at a meeting everyone greets everyone before anything can happen. There are detailed greetings for different times of the day, enquiring as to how everyone is doing. Once everybody has been greeted properly, then business or the matter at hand can continue. Its much less abrupt this way - I'll never again be able to walk into a store and ask if they sell band-aids, without first finding out how the sales clerk has spent her morning! Its great to develop relationships with the people around you. 

It is so different from Toronto where eye contact with strangers is practically offensive, and people on the bus would rather stand than sit too close to someone! I'll have to remember that it might bother someone if I put my knapsack on their lap as I search for my money. Then again, I kind of miss the sterile, spacious subways with conductors behind glass, and designated stops, and fixed rates. Things are designed in a way that there is minimal physical contact between people: sliding money across glass, putting tickets in slots, taking transfers from machines.  

One thing is for sure, touching or no touching, I haven't gotten used to strangers asking me to marry them.

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MAY 3rd, 2000

This past weekend was a blast! The friends I met at Karanda were in town before they flew away forever, so we (and my pal Bill) spent almost the whole weekend at the Harare International Festival of the Arts (HIFA). We saw African Divas, an awesome Gospel concert, two of Zimbabwe's musical stars and many other international drama, dance and musical performances. It was great fun! Despite the pretty high prices, the audience was extremely varied... lots of foreigners who came for the festival, as well as national Zimbabweans. (By high prices, I mean by Zim standards - the shows were at the most $8CAN.) The festival was great for raising people's spirits in this time!

Over the course of the weekend, we ate at a great restaurant and really went all over Harare. Here is an alphabetical list of the interesting foods I have consumed over
these past few days: 

Black Worms

Here is that same list in order of best to worst:

Crocodile is like tasty chicken, Kudu makes a great steak... Zebra is really tough, and I won't even describe the Black Worms.  A man in Mbare (high density suburb with great markets) offered us some of his worms, thinking Murungus would never eat worms... so of course we took him up on his offer. They are apparently great protein, and if you mashed 'em up and smothered them with sauce they wouldn't be too bad. For a treat-on-the-go, though, the texture is far too rubbery and wormlike for my liking. (They're more like fat spiky caterpillars.)
 
What was that about being vegetarian? 

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MAY 1st, 2000

Time for another update? I'm not sure what I have and haven't written about lately (i email my journal entries, so I can't really check back on them), so I'll just do an overall update on my ministry here.

The last month I haven't been working at City Presby, teaching my class of grade two street kids, because of school holidays. So, I've been working a lot more with Youth for Christ, and managed to go to Karanda Mission Hospital for a week to check out the home based care program. As it turns out I'll be able to go back to Karanda around May 25th for three weeks. The Home Based Care and EPI team said they'd be glad to get my help, and I cleared it all up with the TEAM people, so it's confirmed! (As confirmed as anything can be in a country brimming with political action.) Its a good time to go, because Winnie and Jan (my Zimbabwean parents) are going back to the Netherlands for their daughter's wedding at that time. Unfortunately, there is no email at Karanda... I'm preparing myself early for the massive onslaught of isolation I'll feel in a technologically deprived place - oh, what will I do??? 

After coming home from Karanda I went out to Mbuye Nehanda training centre (farm) for the Friday night of Easter weekend. I went with my friends Pauline, Martin and Ingeborg. It is a "training centre" for former street kids, where they live and learn and supposedly gain skills for the future. The plan was that kids on the street start going to City Presby for schooling, and once they've reached a certain level of growth, they can move out to the farm. Things aren't working out that way though. I was only there for a day, but it seems as though there could be some major improvements with the funding, leadership, and overall organization of the program. It's really disappointing to see something so needed, with a property with a lot of potential, not actually being that effective. Anyway, we spent the evening playing cards and soccer with the kids and just hanging out. In the morning, Pauline and I did an Easter egg hunt with the kids and that was a lot of fun!

On the way back home to Harare, we hitched a ride in the back of a pick-up. I was just enjoying the wind in my hair and the warm African sun when I noticed that the other fellow in the back of the truck with us was handcuffed. What does one do when they've climbed into a truck which is going far to fast to jump out of and they realize they're next to some class of convict or dangerous criminal? I don't know the answer, but I couldn't help but laugh out loud. My friends did not notice the state of
our  traveling companion when I told them after, but we all thought it was pretty funny.

I had a pretty good Easter here in Harare. I've been working on a little ditty with a group of girls at Emerald Hill Community Church, which we performed at the Sunday morning service. It was "Jesus Christ the Apple Tree", a piece which speaks of Christ as the nourishment for the soul, and of the joy that is found in knowing Him. The girls sounded beautiful, and the service was special as my first Easter in Africa. I missed the sunrise breakfast and service at Yorkminster though... mostly just the breakfast, but the service, too. (hahaha)

My latest adventure with Youth for Christ was a road trip to Bulawayo with Edward (the director). We went Monday evening and came home Wednesday night. The plan was to do a day and a half workshop with a YFC drama group, Generation 21, on how to incorporate AIDS education into the message they take to schools. Unfortunately, the whole group didn't arrive after Easter holidays, so we postponed the workshop from Tuesday until Wednesday and Edward and the guys that did show up and I went to Matopos National Park for the day. (tough break, I know.)

We had such an exiting time in Edward's Mazda 323. We spent a good portion of the day guiding his car through rivers and over Niagara-sized potholes. It was great fun digging his car out of the mud as giraffes and kudu watched from afar. I almost got charged $500 for sitting on the roof of the car in the game park... luckily Edward and my other partner in crime (also out the top of the sunroof) talked us out of the payment.  As I was there with three Zimbabweans, we attempted to get me in for a national's rate, rather than the "American" rate (meant for all foreigners, but you're assumed to be American). We jabbered in Shona, and I spoke English with a British accent and we pretended we were married, but nothing worked and I ended up paying the American rate, which is over 10 times as expensive. We ended the day with sunset at "World's View", which is the place of Rhodes' grave. He said that there was no other view like it on earth - and I think he may have been right.

While in Bulawayo I was introduced to Zimbabwe's second major culture: Ndebele. Their language is much more complicated with clicks. I tried my best, but I don't think I have the knack of the clicking quite yet. Then again, I could come home and click away and my family wouldn't know the better! 

Oh, and I also learned some more Zim-trivia for you all at home: Harare means "not sleeping", a.k.a. "the city that doesn't sleep", and I found out that Bulawayo is Sindebele for "they kill their own". (Does anybody else think I chose the right city to live in?!)

This weekend is the Harare International Festival of the Arts (HIFA), so I plan on going to a few cultural shows with music and dancing. I have tickets to a play Saturday night with my friend Bill, too. On opening night there were fireworks downtown and a friend of mine received a panicked phone call from a neighbour, as she had heard the sound of the fireworks and thought it was bombs going off! (The Daily News was bombed last weekend - no one was hurt.)  It just shows the stressful mentality the political situation has put people in. This festival is exactly what Harare needs right now, to liven people up a bit!

Personally, I have had a good few weeks. I've been quite busy with the various projects that I'm involved with and I like it that way. If I keep busy, I tend to enjoy things more and I don't have time to think about home! (I miss home a bit, but I'm coming up to the halfway mark, and the end is in sight!) I feel like I'm building up a life here, with friends and a community and my home. It's funny to live in a big cosmopolitan city, where all the action is, and still have it be small enough that I pass people I know on the street. Maybe I'm more visible than the average Joe, but I seem to run into at least two or three people I know every time I'm down town. Whether its a street kid, or someone I met at a concert, or an artist I talked to, or someone I had a pop with once, people always stop to chat and be friendly! Time is not the precious commodity that it is in North America. Rather time is not even thought of at all! Also, this city is smaller than Toronto, and people are WAY more likely to talk to strangers, too. It makes for a very cozy atmosphere in the heart of the city.

I think I've given everyone enough to chew on for one read. I need to save something interesting to say for next time! One last thing: Although the violence and heated political situation is very real here, I am safe and sound in the city. The danger is mostly on farms or for those involved in politics, so I don't have to worry. I am being extra careful about where I go and cautious about what I say, though.  Its a new thing to be so close to the violence and tragedy - hearing personal stories from friends and reading it in our community newspaper - and I don't take it lightly. I'd ask that you would pray for Zimbabwe in this time, especially for the upcoming election process.

Thanks for all your emails and thoughts and prayers! They are much appreciated!
Love Rianne
no, I mean Lianna, oops...
make that Lianne.

(Sorry I can't keep all my names here straight. Shona doesn't have the letter L, and all syllables end with a pronounced vowel - so if it isn't one thing it's the other!)

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