Tag: change

Space at the table

On By blessingsonahillIn All posts, Food for thought, planning, The best of AfricaLeave a comment

A few years ago I started the journey towards self-publishing. What led me down this route is the realisation that if my children were ever going to embrace who they are; their language and culture in a foreign land, I would have to help them along by allowing them to access images of themselves through the written word. I set out on this journey when my nephew was born, in part because my daughter missed out on accessing high quality literature in our language. Looking back, my only access was the bible and Bemba hymn books and because I believe that we cannot expect white people to write our stories, I decided to serve up books for my family’s children. Traditional publishers were a non starter, so self publishing it was. 7 years down the line, my book is written, and a few months back, I realised that I am still asking for space at the table, in order to serve what I want these babies to consume.

It turns out that Amazon doesn’t allow self-publishing in native African languages but does cater for Afrikaans and Arabic. I don’t know why I didn’t look into this, but we’re back to the drawing board and I have possibly found another outlet but maybe we need to stop asking for space at the table and instead take our children back to our African table and serve them high quality brain food of our choosing. The words of one of my favourites Steve Biko ring true. Maybe it’s time to create the spaces we want, to develop our Africa according to our ways and then invite those who will to join us, on our terms … Not with a sense of racial superiority or as copycats of others but as a people filled with pride in our God given worth. We cannot keep knocking on homes not our own, asking for a place at tables not our own, expecting our children to find worth in borrowed lessons.

Amazon isn’t just the right table to sit at, and I came to the conclusion that maybe if my books are not welcome there, my money isn’t either. Until that changes, I will not be shopping there. Do any of you know of any tables created specifically for us?

Beautiful Wild flower

On By blessingsonahillIn All posts, Family life, Poetry, The best of AfricaLeave a comment

Beautiful wild flower,

Delicate and pure,

Plucked just before it’s bloom,

It’s the Master’s field,

He decides

 

Love’s rarest of beauties,

Now clothed in white,

Before we could see purple turn to white

What to do with these her gifts?

 

Oh rarest of princesses

Now in Christ’s fields to grow

In His arms to sleep

Not married to her prince as was hoped

Now forever joined to her God

 

Prince of peace,

Comfort our hearts

Bring joy behind this veil of tears

shine light into the building darkness

 

Dawn seems forever lost,

the sun set on this her life

May the Son, His glorious light shine

As He comes to take this our cross,

Jesus forever glorified in death or life

Nenanji our sister and friend,

Rest in Christ alone

Forevermore, till He calls us home.

 

down the isle

On By blessingsonahillIn All posts, VignnettesLeave a comment

The doors open, and that’s her cue. She turns to baTata and smiles, her heart lessening it’s flatter. He looks different in a suit, but black is definitely his colour; she’s never seen him look this handsome. Hooking her arm in his, he leads her forward. This is the last time he will lead her, and she’s filled with a sense of loss; her father, her world—but only momentarily because before her is a man she loves. Her steps, in line with her father, she’s focused only on the two men; the one beside her and the one ahead of her. The music, her pledge to the man in front of her and a testament to the one beside her, she smiles at the words as tears fill her big brown eyes behind the veil. Her heart picks up pace again as her father hands her over to the other man in black, her small delicate hand in his big hand, one hand against her back, he places her hand in her fiancé’s arm and urges her forward. She hesitates; there’s something missing.

Putting her arms around her father’s neck, she whispers in his ear “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiles, before releasing her so the service can start.

Can paedophiles change?

On By blessingsonahillIn All posts, Food for thoughtLeave a comment

I was reading about the case of the baby who was allegedly abandoned in Thailand by his biological parents, who took his twin sister and brought her back to Perth. I subsequently watched part of an interview broadcast on 60 minutes. If anyone is unaware of the story, quick google search will deliver the story to you. Recently, it has been revealed that the biological father of these children has been convicted of 22 sex offences against children. In the interview, the father claims he no longer has sexual urges towards children and the woman interviewing him makes a statement to the effect that she has interviewed  many paedophiles and they have stated that they will always be paedophiles.

I understand that children should be protected and that we should be concerned with the safety of children, what I am trying to figure out is; is it right to make statements like “once a paedophile, always a paedophile”? If some paedophiles have stated that they will always be that way, does that make the statement true? We are constantly told we have  the power to choose our destiny, so why are we championing the view that people are victims of their biology? Where is the power of choice? In saying to people, this is how you are and you will forever be this way, aren’t we defeating them in the process? Can’t they choose to be different? Can’t they choose who they will be?

Are we making our society safer by making such statements or are we in fact making it harder for people to decide to change and be better? Are we saying, “you are broken and cannot be fixed” and throwing people in the “discard” pile. Doesn’t it seem weird that on one hand we say to paedophiles that they have no choice in the matter, they are who they are, and yet on the other we a so filled with anger when they offend. I think we are so angry because deep down we know that they have a choice and that they are responsible for those choices and it doesn’t come down to mere biological defect.

I personally believe human hearts  and minds can change. They can be renewed and made whole, and while I don’t think I would leave my child in a room with someone who has been convicted of sex offenses, I don’t believe anyone is beyond redemption. There is always hope and every human being should be looked at as an individual, not based on what others have decided about themselves.

Celebrating life

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This is probably the first year since my Uncle died four years ago that I have not woken up feeling low and depressed, or felt the need to feel that way. Today is my other Uncle’s birthday. So rather than focusing on what’s lost, I choose to give thanks for what I do have. In constantly focusing on what we will never again have, we sometimes forget that every single day, is a blessing and that we can be what that loved one was to us, to someone else. While there might always be a struggle for joy because of loss, it’s a struggle worth having. While sitting in the dark the whole day because of grief might seem attractive, if we allow ourselves to see it, there is a whole world out there that is more attractive than the depression death brings.

Celebrating life, requires we get up and live it, not drown our sorrows in alcohol or drugs or waste it spinning wheels of death as we do burnouts or encasing ourselves in darkness refusing to take part in the land of the living. I’m glad that when God chose to take Isaac, he did it on my other Uncle’s birthday because it gives us something happier to celebrate. Today I can look and say,  today God decided to call Uncle Isaac home, but today also marks the day that he gave us Uncle Solo, a man we love to bits and vice versa. I can celebrate the man who was Isaac and also celebrate a man who is Solomon. There is no shortage of blessings and even in death, Uncle Isaac continues to be a blessing, so I will enjoy the day, rejoice in it and be glad in it.

Precious…the birthing of a dream

On By blessingsonahillIn All posts, Short Stories2 Comments

she walked out of the house, throwing the blue new tropicals to the floor, she slipped her feet in and ran towards her grandmother who was walking down the dust path that led to away from their house and onto a dusty road. It was an hour’s walk to Chinfinsa congregation of the United church of Zambia. She could make it in 30 minutes if she picked up the pace but that was not going to be the case walking with her grandmother. she pulled the worn skirt made of chitenge material, to cover her belly button and walked beside her grandmother. She couldn’t hide her excitement at going to church today.

“natwendeshe” her grandmother called picking up pace. she wanted to make it to church before the St Marks Choir arrived. She never complained about the distance from Luano to their Church, which was in Munsenga, on the other side of the Chingola-Kitwe Road; a trek from where they lived.

“But mama, “she replied, “our service never starts on time.” Her grand mother insisted they get to church early every week. she had no watch but they always made it on time. Precious had never heard the St marks Bemba Choir sing, but her grand mother had told her,  how beautiful they sounded. her grandmother had heard them sing many times and had even visited the “mother” congregation. The announcement was made a week ago and everytime she thought about it, she felt her heart skip a beat.

they soon met other people headed in their direction “mujibi yepi?” the woman called walking towards them.

“emwani,” her grandmother extended her hand, clapping the other womans hand and touching her chest and repeating the gesture again in greeting; Kaonde greeting. She had grown up speaking iki Kaonde but now mainly spoke ici Bemba despite being in Lamba country. she greeted the woman and run ahead, knowing her grandmother would be fine with her walking companion for the day.

She didn’t care for the dust that was gathering on her legs with each step she took; the faster she run the worse it got, but she would be at the church in no time. She was out of breath by the time the Kitwe-Chingola rd was in sight. On the other side was the Munsenga junction. A small dirt road that meandered from one end, forming a loop and coming out the other. It was mostly bush on one side of the dirt road and houses on the other. she slowed her pace as she came to the road. It wasn’t as busy on Sundays, but she made sure there weren’t any cars coming before running across. There were other people walking down and she walked with them, not quiet feeling at home, she talked with them, maybe if she showed her excitement at what was happening at church today, no one would see the discomfort she felt.

*                                  *                                  *

Jahdel was glad she had made it to church on time. Her 2 friends Limpo and Mwansa were coming to church with the visiting chior. She was excited. Her and Limpo had become close friends, despite her vow never to become friends with men. He had reintroduced her to Mwansa who she had previously known but had not talked to in years. She walked to her sister Karen and the woman she was talking to. She watched as the young girl walked away from them. Her clothes were worn. Her skirt, made of chitenge was not as bright as it had obviously been before. she kept pulling the skirt that kept riding below her belly button.

“You see that girl.” the woman talking to Karen said, “takonfwa.”

Jahdel wondered why the girl was said to be naughty, she seemed so full of life.

“she sleeps around with different men,” the woman shifted the baby in her arms from one side to the other, settling her on her hip and leaning in closer “Bonse bali mwishiba.”

Jahdel was too shocked to respond, did this woman just say everyone knew her? She watched as the woman clapped her hands, as if shocked at what she was relaying, “ka moneka kwati kalonfwa, kanshi….”

“You honestly think that it’s her fault?” anger rose in Jahdel, “How do you decide she’s naughty on the basis that grown men sleep with her?”

“All I know is they pay her and if they pay her, it can’t be that bad. And she’s so young, imagine what she will be like when she grows up.”

The way she said it only infuriated Jahdel more; worse still, Karen seemed almost ready to agree until Jahdel spoke up

“So all you adults know about it. Even her grandmother knows about it?”

“it’s no secret, and her grandmother has tried to talk about it with her to get her to stop but she just doesn’t listen.”

“So you even know which men sleep with her?” she waited for the woman’s self-righteous yes before continuing, “and all you do is talk behind her back?”

“Yes but what are we supposed to do if that’s what she’s chosen.” the woman didn’t look upset at the challenge rather ashamed and disappointed that Jahdel did not share her enthusiasm at the gossip she had to share,

“No! you fight for her!” Jahdel could almost feel herself shaking but kept her voice calm, “grown men, should know better. It’s not her fault that they can’t control themselves!” she looked at the little girl who was walking towards them

“Anyway, that’s that little girl you see.” she clapped her hands and walked away.

“Baunfwa nsoni.” Karen chuckled to herself.

“she SHOULD be ashamed of herself.” Jahdel felt her whole body shake

Karen chuckled again, “they love gossip.”

“Niwebo nani ishina?” Jahdel asked turning to the girl. She didn’t look older than eleven.

“Precious.” she replied with a big smile,

Jahdel smiled at her, heart breaking, knowing this girl had no one to fight for her. Precious, her name spoke of how God saw her. She was precious in His sight, Yet to men, she was “easy pleasure”. Something they could ride, no strings attached. They talked for few minutes, Precious pointing out where her grandmother stood, when asked who she lived with. She was a bubbly little girl. Some thought her insane.

Just then the small Canter made its way onto the church grounds. Precious ran towards it, Jahdel waiting for the boys to disembark. She said hi to both Limpo and Mwansa and introduced them to Karen. Karen left them as they chatted for a while before they had to go into the church and sit in their designated areas. The men sat on the left hand side and the women on the right.

Jahdel was in a haze; her mind fixed on Precious. Would she make it,or would abuse devour her like it had Jahdel. She knew all too well the horrors it brought, the guilt, the suicidal feelings, the shame and pain that just made no sense. The feeling of being in the wrong body, unwelcome in your own flesh, feeling like dirt had made it’s way under your skin. As the service went on, she found it hard to concentrate. Those men, deserved death! She looked at Mwansa and Limpo and remembered Limpo’s words, How could he expect her to trust any man, when his species could be so heartless and selfish. She had to admit though that both young men were different. They seemed sincere; different, they spoke kindly and offered respect even when she was undeserving. But she couldn’t help but wonder.

After service, Jahdel talked to precious some more, hoping that she could find hope in words that didn’t raise her apparent failings. She talked to Mwansa and Limpo more as well before they all had to go.

Every time she saw the little girl after that, she talked to her, but with exams looming, Sundays at Chimfinsa became a rare happening, St marks or not attending church becoming the options because of the extra lessons she needed to do in order to get ready. Hope reigned still, Precious, was the birthing of a dream, just maybe, Jahdel would one day fight what many refused to see as present. Zambians frowned when they heard about paedophiles in the western world, yet in their own world, this child, had no voice.

Years after meeting that precious soul, reading another story of a girl used by her step-father, Jahdel remembered, knowing there were many such stories. burying her head in her hands, Jahdel wept. She would never forget Precious, she hadn’t the means to help her, but one day, she would fulfil a dream.

Influencers

On By blessingsonahillIn All posts, Food for thoughtLeave a comment

This week past, has been a huge blessing for me. Monday to Wednesday night, we attended the Influencers conference in Perth Western Australia. It happens every year in Adelaide and Perth in January.

I was deeply challenged, convicted and encouraged to be more than I am now. One of the greatest questions I was asked amidst all the teaching was “Am I carrying my share of the burden?” Its a question worth asking any one of us, Zambian, Australian, those countryless…anyone. As a Christian, am I carrying my share of the burden? As a family member, am I carrying my share of the burden? As a Zambian am I carrying my share of the burden? As a person living in Australia am I carrying my share of the burden?

We all have something to offer even though we think otherwise, but it’s time we got over ourselves and lived for Someone greater than ourselves. Dr Ravi Zacharias said, it takes one man to lead people into untold evil but it also only takes one man to change the world for good. What is your contribution to this world? When will we stop waiting for someone else to bring change and be the ones that stand for truth and justice?

I was convicted because I know in whom I have believed and yet do not live my life as one with conviction. I am not a source of hope for broken people. There’s a need in the world, we are meant to meet. As Zambian’s what are we doing but sitting and waiting for change to come or seeking to better our own lives and not the lives of those around us? As people, we uproot boundaries wanting to live free but true freedom has some boundaries. The consequences of removing those boundaries will be devastating. When will we stand up for what is right and true?

I was challenged to live out my faith, to get over my small life, small world and focus on Christ and live for Him. I was challenged to forgive and move on, to not let the past determine where I am going; I was challenged to let go once again.I was encouraged because I have great dreams that I believe were planted in me. Dreams that seem impossible but I know that the one who placed them in me, will fulfil them, if only I believe. In the end, it’s all for His glory

If only

On By blessingsonahillIn All posts, Food for thought2 Comments

Lord, if men would realise that women are to be treasured and protected…not to be used to fulfil selfish desires but to be honoured…that girls will give sex in exchange for companionship, love and respect because they are disillusioned and that their hearts break when that love and respect is not shown…if only men could open their eyes and see that the girl they lie with today, is beauty that they might destroy. Worthy of the respect due a mother; she might one day mother their own son’s wife. That she is a grandmother, mother, wife; she is a child, a sister, a granddaughter, a friend; maybe even your own. If only they would open their eyes and see that she looks enticing, yes, but let the man who she was meant for enjoy her, just as you will one day hope to alone enjoy yours. That they owe their wives nothing less than what they expect, a man who is untouched. That as enticing as she seems, she might just be the seam ripper that makes you come undone…

That we women would open their eyes and see that if he loves “me”, He will wait. He will want the best for “me” even if it means he loses “me” . If only we would realise that compromise leaves us lost and broken…unsatisfied…pleasure lasts a moment but when it’s gone, what do you have left? If only we could treasure what is right and true, closing our ears off to the sweet nothings he whispers and hearing the truth in his words; hearing that we will get hurt and that he cares very little in the end.  Hear the truth in His words…the words of a loving Father…You are precious, loved and need nothing other than Him. That honour and respect; that love does not come by giving yourself away. That letting him have his way with you, deprives you, and if he hasn’t married you, he was no right to you…That there’s something more that awaits you, a man maybe, who will value you. If only we would realise that just because you gave in once, you don’t have to keep giving in, or that just because he denied you your right to “NO!” does not mean you lost the right…If only we realised that just because he ignored your “NO!” doesn’t mean that all men seek to take from us, by force if need be… If only we could see His tear-stained face, with arms outstretched, sweat beading, bleeding  for us, His deeds shouting as loud as His words, I love you this much!

IF ONLY…

Last day of 2012

On By blessingsonahillIn All posts, Food for thought2 Comments

Today for me marks the end of a very blessed year. When this year started, I was pretty close to rock bottom. I remember staying in the house the whole day, only coming out at night when my sister came home from work. I was bitter, resentment filled and angry. I was scared to leave the house because I felt if I did I wouldn’t come back. I imagined myself jumping in front of the train or just getting on the train and not coming back. I felt trapped and not needed.

Over the last 10 years I’ve experienced emotional strain and extreme darkness where I didn’t know how I was going to get through the day but I wasn’t willing to give up and I always came out of it but 2011 for me was the year I lost all fight…I crumbled…I felt crushed under the weight of my life this far, crushed by yet another failure, loss of loved ones, the loss of a friend. I felt crushed by my inability to get over my past, crushed by my inability to love the ones around me. What mother resents her own? Yet my love for my daughter was still present.

I had lost sight of what was important. I had allowed my problems and insecurities and people’s views to finally matter where they never had. I had allowed fear to reign in me. for grief and anger and resentment to become me. I remember talking to my brother on the phone, laying on the bed, tears flowing, unable to control them. I was unable to hold it all together. I remember him saying “you have a love affair with where you are at.” That was in January 2012. He had been talking to me about crying out to God but I couldn’t do it. I was in pain and yet I wasn’t willing to submit because I was afraid that what lay ahead with God might just be more painful. I felt wounded afresh at the loss of friendship. I remember writing “You healed only to wound again.”

At that point I had tried to get in touch with a counsellor and had failed. I remember talking to my parents and not being completely honest with them but at least the doors of communication had been opened and on my terms, eventually managed to find a counsellor. I remember invading my sister’s room and telling her things I’ve never told anyone else before. I had to be honest with my leaders at church. I remember sitting talking to my counsellor and telling myself I wouldn’t cry and yet breaking down.

I remember living with my brother and his beautiful wife, my elder sis and them challenging me to be better. I remember the birth of their child and the joy it brought…I remember mum coming and the blessing she was  to me. I remember connect group meetings…3 different groups where I was challenged…one controversial but causing me to analyse and re-evaluate where I stand. I remember a friend challenging me, refusing to accept I wasn’t okay, challenging me in my Christian walk. I remember getting to my counsellors house and telling myself many reasons why I should not knock on the door. I remember feeling like I had failed because I couldn’t get my life together on my own. The hardest thing for me to do is depend on people, even my family. I remember deciding to tell people the truth about going for counselling when they asked what I had been up to and it helped me get over the shame of it. I remember crying to God and journaling and praying and laying things bare before Him. I remember advice and hugs from those who have my best interests at heart. Those I kept up late when I needed advice or just a listening ear.

This year I got some of my confidence back. I had allowed life to reduce me to an unsure fear filled person and counselling was where I learnt I was really okay, not consumed by my past and I had to re-learn to be comfortable in me. To own my choices from here. Yes listen to what people have to say but in the end decide on my terms what course my life will take, because in the end, I can never blame anyone else for what I do wrong.

2012 for me was the year I saw a counsellor who helped me deal with some of my issues. I am in no way at the destination of wholeness but I’m on the way. It was the year I saw more transparently my father’s heart. I saw the restoration of a friendship I never thought possible. My nephew was born. My daughter turned 10, like previous years it has been a continuation of my journey. Where I see God’s hand. It was the year He again bent my knee to His will when I was unwilling and unable to within myself. It was the year I saw the most progress in my fight for purity. It was the year I stopped running. The year I attended a leadership course, the year I performed my own written poems live. The year I finally finished medical science. I got to get involved with life changers who are scattered around the world. people I love got engaged and married, babies were born in our family. This  year, my hope was restored.

So why am I telling you all this? Isn’t it funny how you hear Christians talk about going to the doctor for a common cold and demanding antibiotics when there’s no need for them, forgetting that Jesus is the great physician by whose stripes we are healed, and yet the same people will stand and declare that your faith is weak when you see a counsellor for emotional turmoil? We’re all different and while others have no need for counselling, others do. Do whatever it takes to get out. You can never tell whats around the corner. Darkness is relative to light. just because the sun is on the other side of the world doesn’t mean it stopped shining. Just because one door closes doesn’t mean you’re closed in. Sometimes all that’s stopping the light from trickling in is the walls you’ve built. Remember when in a dark room, you can’t see further than a few steps ahead of you and sometimes you can’t even see yourself. But feel around, stumble and even fall, if you take your eyes off the darkness and your predicament, you might just turn a corner and find hope, little rays of sun where there  seemed none, blocked by that one wall. Don’t give up! It’s okay to ask for help. Also never forget, that behind the smiles we see, there might just be more pain than we realise and you might just be what the other person needs to get through. Happy New Year and for those who have walked with me this year, may God bless you. Looking foward to 2013

Why I consider myself tribalist

On By blessingsonahillIn All posts, Food for thought2 Comments

Okay, the heading might be a little misleading, I’m not actually tribalists in the real sense of the word, I just happen to be all for preserving tribes and their respective cultures in Zambian Society. My reasoning is simply that diversity is usually a good thing. Just look at the great cultural landscape in Africa and the richness it provides; the different music, the different dances, ceremonies (some of which I don’t endorse). I love uniqueness and I believe that the different cultural practices of different tribes, generally, if we want them to, add colour to our lives. Also having to interact with so many groups of people, who might have slight differences or possibly major ones, does grow our ability to tolerate differences and improves our interpersonal skills.

I believe I was born a half-caste child for a reason ordained by God. I don’t believe any aspect of my being is an accident and it serves a purpose in the master plan. I mean God makes no errors. I’m half Bemba, half Nsenga, they are my heritage and I hold them proudly. I have to say though, before being any of those, I am Zambian, before being Zambian I am human, a family member, mother, daughter, sister, friend…but above all those, I am Christian and as paul said, “there is neither Greek nor Jew”. What should govern my view of the world is Christ hanging on a tree, not what my children will eat, neither maintaining a job nor having a husband and definitely “I’m Nsenga or Bemba, Zambian or Australian.

As hard as it is, the minute I identify myself as Nsenga above all else, I will live my life for the Nsenga people above all others, even to the detriment of other tribes. I am Christian first, and no, I don’t always get it right, but when Christ reigns, I see my traits and characteristics through the screen of “Christ died for the world and asks the same of me” and through that screen, I can live as umu Bemba/umu Nsenga and practice my culture without seeing “my people” as superior or inferior and that can be applied to every area of life.  What is it that governs your view of the world around you?