On the Way!

Hello world!

We’re lounging around at the Backpacker’s Lodge in Lusaka, Zambia, recovering from jetlag and chasing geckos up the walls (okay, actually, I’m the only one chasing geckos…). I thought I would share the journey with you…

After a short week and a half at home, I reloaded everything back into my car and drove south to Nashville again.  A dear friend who studied abroad in Italy this spring had just gotten home, so she and I stayed with another friend in the city to catch up with each other and essentially just enjoy each other’s company for the night. The next day consisted of frantically running from place to place to get passport photos and Spiderman movies (you’re welcome, Troy) and milkshakes (totally necessary…) and every other odd and end that still hadn’t been picked up. David and I traveled on the same itinerary, which means we were basically trying to pack in the same bags while residing in two different states, which—I might add—is actually physically impossible. A week of anxiety and obnoxiously late phone calls and micromanaging on my part culminated into about a two-hour packing experience in the lobby of my old dorm at school.  We laid out everything we hoped to pack in order of importance and then stuffed every suitcase until it was exactly 50lb (or at least reaaaally close). Almost everything made it in, and the things I had to leave were not items I felt bad about leaving behind. So that’s nice.

The next morning, we met at the airport parking garage, stuffed one last suitcase full to bursting with kids clothes (they were just too cute to leave behind), and made our way to the United Airlines counter.  We intended to check an extra suitcase, and the travel agency we work with (Golden Rule; I highly recommend them for any kind of missions travel) had been kind enough to make the phone calls for us and figure out the prices and logistics.  United charged us $200, which is about what we expected. The travel agency warned us that Ethiopian Air would probably try to charge us again when we transferred our bags over, so the lady at the United counter went through the trouble of printing up a receipt for the extra bag stating that it was good from DC to Lusaka.

Then she discovered that we were both booked on two flights from DC to Addis Ababa. Several weeks ago our travel agency notified us that the flight had changed, but apparently it wasn’t canceled appropriately in the system.  The United lady’s initial statement was, “Oh well, that doesn’t really matter for us. It’s an Ethiopian issue.” After a minor amount of sheer panic and pleading with big eyes, she did sort it all out for us.

The flights from Nashville to Chicago and then to DC went flawlessly.  Navigating the DC airport with 312lbs of luggage in tow was quite an experience, to say the least, but we managed to follow the signs and the PA announcements until we found the shuttle pick-up. Two other missions groups were trying to get to the same hotel we were with the same obscenely large amount of luggage, so there was a bit of jostling to get on the shuttle both that night and when we reloaded to go back to the airport Sunday morning.  One of the groups was really nice; the others’ attitudes left me frustrated and irritated, but more on that later…

Checking in with Ethiopian Air in DC was… sketchy. That is the terminology we have settled upon.  I really like Ethiopian Air a lot; Stateside it just seemed to be a bunch of congenial friendly people unaccustomed to bureaucracy who were nonetheless working within the confines of bureaucracy. Things run pretty smoothly, and if something glitches, you just sort of shrug and move on and fix it later. For instance, they didn’t have our second boarding pass “ready” (translation: oops, somehow you’re not actually on this flight… let’s fix that…). When we got to Addis Ababa, we just sauntered up to the nice lady by the gate and asked if she happened to have it. There was a whole stack of them on the counter next to her. She rifled through them, pulled ours out, and sent us on our way.

Finally, we boarded (what we thought was) our final flight into Lusaka.  Fully jetlagged and only slightly coherent, we somehow missed the pre-flight PA announcement notifying us of a flight change. The thick Ethiopian accent of the announcer didn’t exactly help. I kept glancing at my watch in confusion, thinking how much longer the flight seemed than last year. Finally, the plane began to descend, and I eagerly leaned towards the window to see… a completely unfamiliar and foreign landscape.  In retrospect, the nice Chinese-man-across-the-aisle’s repetitious query of “Harari? Harari?” made a lot more since. We were, in fact, in Harari, Zimbabwe.

Luckily, it was only a brief (incredibly confusing) pitstop. A few people got off, and a few more people got on. An hour and a half later we finally stepped onto the tarmac at the Lusaka airport.

Getting our visa and getting through customs was a breeze. One of the luggage attendants piled all our luggage on a cart and literally walked us through customs, waving off the officials and getting us through without even having to stop. We grabbed a taxi and made our way to the Backpacker’s Lodge. Two of the other girls who are also traveling to Kazembe this summer, whose whereabouts were ominously unknown upon landing, were already there (much to our relief).  Due to the Zimbabwe mishap, we arrived too late to change currency over, which basically postponed all of our errands and responsibilities until the next day.

The night ended with a long look towards the Southern Cross, a deep breath of African air, and a peace in my soul that has been painfully absent since August 6^th of last year. Tomorrow we board the bus for Kazembe, and I eagerly await that moment Thursday morning when the orphanage appears on the horizon. And when Johnny pipes up with, “Auntie Meghan, you came back!” I’ll cross my arms, turn sideways, and smile mischeviously just like he does and say, “Of course I did monkey. I told you so.”

Me & My Drum

Shhh! Listen! Do you hear that?!

Those drums. Those are Narnian drums. Spring is here. The world is waking up, and I’m almost there.

Time is passing too quickly and yet barely moving all at the same time.  I have so much to do in the next week. We fly out on May 19^th, but since I’ll be leaving Illinois on the morning of the 17^th, I really only have one week left to have everything gathered, packed, and ready to go. 

I spent a few hours last night working out lesson plans for the kids.  Mostly I’m just trying to make sure I don’t forget anything that I might want later on in the way of school supplies or teaching tools.  We have a fold-out world map and a children’s atlas, and I found some kids’ fact books about different countries (Brazil, China, India, Greece, Mexico, Egypt… maybe a couple more?). I’m hoping to talk about a different continent or area of the world each week and use the books as focus lessons. World history and geography are obviously not incredibly high on a 1^st grade Zambian orphan’s academic needs, but I think it’s important to encourage curiosity in their world. Of course there will be math, reading, and science too, and I’m planning to incorporate spelling more heavily as well.

I’ve also been comparing different first grade learning objectives and standards to try and piece together a more comprehensive curriculum.  The workbooks we use have a list of learning objectives, but I found last year that, at least for my teaching style, the list leaves several knowledge gaps. It took me several weeks last year to really get into an efficient rhythm of teaching.

The last few weeks have been positively bursting with hopeful possibilities. I brainstormed with some professors about the possibility of study abroad making its way into the nursing program at Belmont. A pharmacy professor happened to walk in the office of a nursing professor just as she was opening an email I sent her, and a few days later I found myself in that pharmacy professor’s office as she explained how she could arrange and adapt the clinic inventory from the orphanage into a much more user-friendly format, complete with pediatric dosages and recommendations for equipment or medications to obtain.  Then I went to drop something off with my aunt at the hospital where she works only to be introduced to a truly amazing nurse that she works with who had spent two years working in Mozambique.  She was able to provide me with a wealth of advice and several organized treatment protocols that she had used and developed while she was there. Most of all, she left me with the feeling that our souls would understand each other. We have seen the same worlds. There’s always that moment when someone finds out I’m spending another summer in Africa where they comment or ask a generic and awkward question and I’m not sure how to respond. Sometimes they really want to know; sometimes the query is born from dumbfounded obligation. I have just as much trouble sharing Africa with Americans as I do explaining America to Africans. The culture gap there is huge, and I don’t really belong in either one of them. I really could not care less about pop culture. Spending more than ten bucks at a time makes my soul itchy, but I also like long hot showers and have been known to waste weeks of my life watching all the seasons of Lost back-to-back… I’m a bit of a cultural misfit at the moment, and I suspect I always will be. I just got the feeling that somehow, at least a little bit, that nurse would understand my heart. That might be the greatest gift she offered that night; it’s not one I receive very often.

This Sunday I was given the opportunity to share my journey and my future plans (HA! as if my plans ever work out the way I think they will…) with my home church. I can speak in front of almost anyone with no qualms at all.  I spoke to 1200 incoming students and their families at a preview day at Belmont this spring and barely batted an eyelash. I’ve debated at the national level and presented to several groups and organizations. I’m always “ready” to talk about Africa, and I’ve done it (and done it well) on a moment's notice on more than one occasion before.

The moment I stepped in front of that church though, something changed. These people are my family. Many of them have known me since I was born. As I stood trembling in front of that church and scanned the crowd, thoughts like “She probably changed my diaper when I was a baby” kept popping into my head. ‘Twas a wee bit distracting.  I did not even remotely come close to clearly expressing or representing the terrible heartbreaking beauty of Africa and her people. I’ve never been good at asking for help, you see.  When I urge someone to give to missions, my motivation is two-fold: First, obviously, there is desperate need.  Second, we were created to make much of God. So many times in scripture, God lays out what He sees as true worship, pure religion, and righteous living, and those passages paint a picture of selfless service and generosity that places others ahead of ourselves. So yes, I want you to give because I have watched children die from lack of adequate medical care.  But I also want you to give because I really do think it’s the better way of life. We think far too little of eternity and what will matter then.  I don’t mean this in a you-should-be-a-better-Christian-and-give-more-stuff-to-poor-kids way… It’s more of an I-desperately-want-you-to-experience-the-freedom-and-unspeakable-joy-of-finding-Jesus-amongst-the-least-of-these way… That line of belief felt unexpectedly barbed and difficult to articulate to a room full of people who have known me forever.

So I have a confession… I’m staying up until midnight just so I can celebrate the one-week mark. At midnight, I’ll only have one week (and the 23 hours 59 minutes left in the day…) until the day that we leave. Everyone else in the house is already asleep. David already said goodnight, and since Emily and Sarah are nice, normal people, they’re probably already sleeping as well. So I shall celebrate silently, by myself, curled up here in this recliner, and that will be enough.

Now run along, little faun. The Narnians Zambians are just waking up right now, but my night is nearing an end. I venture now to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I’ll dawdle as much as humanly possible until that clock finally strikes midnight. One day closer. Aslan is on the move.