Zambia’s population is greater, the cost of living is higher and poverty is even more pronounced than in Namibia. Our hearts were broken as we traveled the roads from the border through Livingstone, Lusaka and arrived in Kitwe. Scores of villages peppered the countryside, homes made primarily of straw and some clay on the walls, rough wood fences and lean-tos displaying their handcrafted goods. At one stretch of road riddled with pot holes the size of Kansas, we had to slow down almost to a stop in some places just to maneuver the treacherous gravel pavement. The dusty roads were flanked by brittle brush, much of which was burning, smoldering, or charred.
At first we were puzzled by the people lining the sides of the road, but soon realized why they were standing in the hot sun waving to us. We watch as one by one, children, older women, mother’s with babies on their backs, older boys, scooped up a small bucket of sand and quickly threw it into a pothole as we approached. Their hands stretched toward us and eyes pleaded for payment. We passed out a few Kwacha bills, but there’s just no way we could contribute to all of them. There were too many. Maybe fifty or so throughout that 75 kilometer stretch of road. Imagine. That’s the work that they have found to scratch out a meager existence. Heartbreaking and yet astonishing to think that these dear ones are creative enough to do anything, everything they can to put food in their stomachs. I wonder what lengths I would go to if I were that desperate.
At first we were puzzled by the people lining the sides of the road, but soon realized why they were standing in the hot sun waving to us. We watch as one by one, children, older women, mother’s with babies on their backs, older boys, scooped up a small bucket of sand and quickly threw it into a pothole as we approached. Their hands stretched toward us and eyes pleaded for payment. We passed out a few Kwacha bills, but there’s just no way we could contribute to all of them. There were too many. Maybe fifty or so throughout that 75 kilometer stretch of road. Imagine. That’s the work that they have found to scratch out a meager existence. Heartbreaking and yet astonishing to think that these dear ones are creative enough to do anything, everything they can to put food in their stomachs. I wonder what lengths I would go to if I were that desperate.
They gave us a custom tour of the Primary school building project, which is already being used even though it’s not completed yet. Serving several hundred children, attending classes in shifts, this school is located in the poorest section of the city and operates as a coop with the community. When we arrived, the children were playing on the dirt fields with a homemade soccer ball. Tony made bonus points with the boys by chasing them around the yard. They giggled and laughed as they watched others being chased, but they screamed with excitement when it was they’re turn. I wish I could have captured that on film!
On our way out of the country we couldn’t resist taking a side trip to a famous tourist site. Viewing the breathtaking Victoria Falls reminded us how huge our God is and how small we are. It’s a privilege to serve this powerful creator and to call Him Father. Just knowing that we are offering our hands, feet and resources to bring His love to His children in this beautiful country is truly humbling. Thank you for your prayers. The trip was successful and accomplished the objective intended. And now we have more friends to pray for. Looking forward to seeing some of you on our visit to the states this month!
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