The sun comes up about 5:30 this time of year, and by 6:00 a.m. we were up and ready for the day. The first order of business was to prepare breakfast. Surprisingly, Elia’s granddaughters had left before the sun came up and would not return until lunch time. Our breakfast menu consisted of homemade biscuits, my aunt’s wonderful jam, tea and coffee.
Just as we were about to begin our morning interview, a young man entered the village. We greeted him in the customary way, and he sat down on one of the small African stools commonly used in the village. Another relative had come to visit; Elia’s nephew from a nearby village. He said he wanted to see his cousins (in Zambia they would be called “sisters”) and so he would be staying for the day. Elia later informed us that he is the only relative that helps her on a regular basis. He comes to collect firewood for her, although a recent job has kept him from coming as often as he would like.
We explained to him what we were doing, and he said he would stay and listen. He was a very quiet young man, but every now and then would help shed some light on Elia’s family, or explain something to her that she did not understand.
Even though Elia is 92, she did not tire as easily as I thought she would. I would ask her periodically if she wanted to take a rest, but she would insist that we keep going. We talked under the shade of the tree for several hours, and then I told her I needed to prepare lunch. I gave her some cookies (called biscuits in Zambia) and she ate almost the whole package while I cooked.
Elia’s granddaughters arrived home and helped prepare vegetables and nshima, while Elizabeth and I prepared the meat and potatoes. It is a good thing we prepared a lot, because just after we finished eating, another visitor arrived. She asked me, “Do you remember me?” How could I forget? I recognized this visitor as Elia’s niece. We had met her some years back when we took Elia to Livingston to visit her son. She had traveled with us to assist Elia. She was pregnant at the time, and on the way became sick. Poor Wes, he was sitting in the seat in front of her. I’ll let you just imagine what happened. Later we found out that she had named her new baby boy after Wes. We got to meet "little Wes," who is now about 4 years old.
After lunch I had hoped to wrap up the interview but the visitors did not leave. They were talking to one another, so I could not turn on my recorder. I decided to just sit and listen as best as I could since they were all speaking in Tonga. I used the opportunity to ask them a few questions about the family, and discovered that Elia had given birth to five children, three which are still living. These five children have given her 23 grandchildren, and her grandchildren have given her 32 great grandchildren. She even has one great great-grandchild. Sadly, many of them have never met this wonderful little lady.
Wes arrived sometime in the afternoon, and we set up his small tent. We had only been apart one day, but we are so used to being together all the time, that one day felt like an eternity!
For supper I made chicken strips to go with our rice, and the girls made some cabbage. As we sat out under the stars eating our supper, Elia said, “I feel like an American.” She was beaming from ear to ear and staying up way past her bedtime.
After another splash bath, it was time for bed. The second day had gone by very quickly and I was even considering staying another day, but that was about to change. In a nearby village, there was a wedding celebration underway. We could hear the drums beating and the people singing and shouting, but we truly hoped that it would not last past midnight. I managed to fall asleep for a few hours until the drum beating increased in intensity; it did not end until 6 a.m. Needless to say, it was a sleepless night for Wes and I. Somehow Elizabeth managed to sleep through it all.
After breakfast we took down the tents, packed up and prepared to go to church. Elia put on her best blue skirt and a red hooded fleece sweatshirt. She looked like a little Eskimo all bundled up to go out into the snow; the temperature was at least in the 80s when we left for church.
After a morning of worshipping together in the little Baptist Church of Mujika, we took Elia back to her village. Although her granddaughters were still with her, we knew they would also be leaving soon. Our hearts felt sad to say good-bye, and she wanted to know why we had to rush off. I made a commitment right then that I would lift Elia up in prayer everyday. I can’t imagine how lonely she gets. I can’t imagine what it is like day in and day out to be alone. I’m just thankful she knows Jesus, who promises to never leave her or forsake her.
The sun comes up about 5:30 this time of year, and by 6:00 a.m. we were up and ready for the day. The first order of business was to prepare breakfast. Surprisingly, Elia’s granddaughters had left before the sun came up and would not return until lunch time. Our breakfast menu consisted of homemade biscuits, my aunt’s wonderful jam, tea and coffee.
Just as we were about to begin our morning interview, a young man entered the village. We greeted him and he sat down on one of the small African stools commonly used in the village. Another relative had come to visit; Elia’s nephew from a nearby village. He said he wanted to see his cousins (in Zambia they would be called “sisters”). Elia later informed us that he is the only relative that helps her on a regular basis. He comes to collect firewood for her, although a recent job has kept him from coming as often as he would like.
We explained to him what we were doing, and he said he would stay and listen. He was a very quiet young man, but every now and then would help shed some light on Elia’s family, or explain something to her that she did not understand.
Even though Elia is 92, she did not tire as easily as I thought she would. I would ask her periodically if she wanted to take a rest, but she would insist that we keep going. We talked under the shade of the tree for several hours, and then I told her I needed to prepare lunch. I gave her some cookies (called biscuits in Zambia) and she ate almost the whole package while I cooked.
Elia’s granddaughters arrived home, and helped prepare vegetables and nshima, while Elizabeth and I prepared the meat and potatoes. It is a good thing we prepared a lot, because just after we finished eating, another visitor arrived. She asked me, “Do you remember me?” How could I forget? I recognized this visitor as Elia’s niece. We had met her some years back when we took Elia to Livingston to see her son. This particular niece had traveled with us to assist Elia. She was pregnant at the time, and on the way, she got sick. Poor Wes, he was sitting in the seat in front of her. I’ll let you just imagine what happened. She felt so badly that she named her boy after him. We got to meet little Wes, who is now about 4 years old.
After lunch I had hoped to wrap up the interview, but the visitors did not leave. They were talking to one another, so I could not turn on my recorder. Therefore, I decided to just sit and listen as best as I could since they were all speaking in Tonga. I used the opportunity to ask them a few questions about the family, and I discovered that Elia gave birth to five children, three which are living. These five children gave her 23 grandchildren, and her grandchildren have given her 32 great grandchildren. She even has one great great-grandchild. Sadly, many of them have never met this wonderful little lady.
Wes arrived sometime in the afternoon, and we set up his small tent. We had only been apart one day, but we are so used to being together all the time, that one day felt like an eternity!
For supper I made chicken strips to go with our rice, and the girls made some cabbage. As we sat out under the stars eating our supper, Elia said, “I feel like an American.” She was beaming from ear to ear and staying up way past her bedtime.
After another splash bath, it was time for bed. The second day had gone by very quickly, and I truly was considering staying another day, but that was about to change. In a nearby village, there was a wedding celebration underway. We could hear the drums beating and the people singing and shouting, but we truly hoped that it would not last past midnight. I managed to fall asleep for a few hours until the drum beating increased in intensity; it did not end until 6 a.m. Needless to say, it was a sleepless night for Wes and I. Somehow Elizabeth managed to sleep through it all.
After breakfast, we took down the tents, packed up and prepared to go to church. Elia put on her best blue skirt and a red hooded fleece sweatshirt. She looked like a little Eskimo all bundled up to go out into the snow; the temperature was at least in the 80s when we left for church.
After a morning of worshipping together in the little Baptist Church of Mujika, we took Elia back to her village. Although her granddaughters were still with her, we knew they would also be leaving soon. Our hearts felt sad to say good-bye, and she wanted to know why we had to rush off. I made a commitment right then that I would lift Elia up in prayer everyday. I can’t imagine how lonely she gets. I can’t imagine what it is like day in and day out to be alone. I’m just thankful she knows Jesus, who promises to never leave her or forsake her.
Just as we were about to begin our morning interview, a young man entered the village. We greeted him in the customary way, and he sat down on one of the small African stools commonly used in the village. Another relative had come to visit; Elia’s nephew from a nearby village. He said he wanted to see his cousins (in Zambia they would be called “sisters”) and so he would be staying for the day. Elia later informed us that he is the only relative that helps her on a regular basis. He comes to collect firewood for her, although a recent job has kept him from coming as often as he would like.
We explained to him what we were doing, and he said he would stay and listen. He was a very quiet young man, but every now and then would help shed some light on Elia’s family, or explain something to her that she did not understand.
Even though Elia is 92, she did not tire as easily as I thought she would. I would ask her periodically if she wanted to take a rest, but she would insist that we keep going. We talked under the shade of the tree for several hours, and then I told her I needed to prepare lunch. I gave her some cookies (called biscuits in Zambia) and she ate almost the whole package while I cooked.
Elia’s granddaughters arrived home and helped prepare vegetables and nshima, while Elizabeth and I prepared the meat and potatoes. It is a good thing we prepared a lot, because just after we finished eating, another visitor arrived. She asked me, “Do you remember me?” How could I forget? I recognized this visitor as Elia’s niece. We had met her some years back when we took Elia to Livingston to visit her son. She had traveled with us to assist Elia. She was pregnant at the time, and on the way became sick. Poor Wes, he was sitting in the seat in front of her. I’ll let you just imagine what happened. Later we found out that she had named her new baby boy after Wes. We got to meet "little Wes," who is now about 4 years old.
After lunch I had hoped to wrap up the interview but the visitors did not leave. They were talking to one another, so I could not turn on my recorder. I decided to just sit and listen as best as I could since they were all speaking in Tonga. I used the opportunity to ask them a few questions about the family, and discovered that Elia had given birth to five children, three which are still living. These five children have given her 23 grandchildren, and her grandchildren have given her 32 great grandchildren. She even has one great great-grandchild. Sadly, many of them have never met this wonderful little lady.
Wes arrived sometime in the afternoon, and we set up his small tent. We had only been apart one day, but we are so used to being together all the time, that one day felt like an eternity!
For supper I made chicken strips to go with our rice, and the girls made some cabbage. As we sat out under the stars eating our supper, Elia said, “I feel like an American.” She was beaming from ear to ear and staying up way past her bedtime.
After another splash bath, it was time for bed. The second day had gone by very quickly and I was even considering staying another day, but that was about to change. In a nearby village, there was a wedding celebration underway. We could hear the drums beating and the people singing and shouting, but we truly hoped that it would not last past midnight. I managed to fall asleep for a few hours until the drum beating increased in intensity; it did not end until 6 a.m. Needless to say, it was a sleepless night for Wes and I. Somehow Elizabeth managed to sleep through it all.
After breakfast we took down the tents, packed up and prepared to go to church. Elia put on her best blue skirt and a red hooded fleece sweatshirt. She looked like a little Eskimo all bundled up to go out into the snow; the temperature was at least in the 80s when we left for church.
After a morning of worshipping together in the little Baptist Church of Mujika, we took Elia back to her village. Although her granddaughters were still with her, we knew they would also be leaving soon. Our hearts felt sad to say good-bye, and she wanted to know why we had to rush off. I made a commitment right then that I would lift Elia up in prayer everyday. I can’t imagine how lonely she gets. I can’t imagine what it is like day in and day out to be alone. I’m just thankful she knows Jesus, who promises to never leave her or forsake her.
The sun comes up about 5:30 this time of year, and by 6:00 a.m. we were up and ready for the day. The first order of business was to prepare breakfast. Surprisingly, Elia’s granddaughters had left before the sun came up and would not return until lunch time. Our breakfast menu consisted of homemade biscuits, my aunt’s wonderful jam, tea and coffee.
Just as we were about to begin our morning interview, a young man entered the village. We greeted him and he sat down on one of the small African stools commonly used in the village. Another relative had come to visit; Elia’s nephew from a nearby village. He said he wanted to see his cousins (in Zambia they would be called “sisters”). Elia later informed us that he is the only relative that helps her on a regular basis. He comes to collect firewood for her, although a recent job has kept him from coming as often as he would like.
We explained to him what we were doing, and he said he would stay and listen. He was a very quiet young man, but every now and then would help shed some light on Elia’s family, or explain something to her that she did not understand.
Even though Elia is 92, she did not tire as easily as I thought she would. I would ask her periodically if she wanted to take a rest, but she would insist that we keep going. We talked under the shade of the tree for several hours, and then I told her I needed to prepare lunch. I gave her some cookies (called biscuits in Zambia) and she ate almost the whole package while I cooked.
Elia’s granddaughters arrived home, and helped prepare vegetables and nshima, while Elizabeth and I prepared the meat and potatoes. It is a good thing we prepared a lot, because just after we finished eating, another visitor arrived. She asked me, “Do you remember me?” How could I forget? I recognized this visitor as Elia’s niece. We had met her some years back when we took Elia to Livingston to see her son. This particular niece had traveled with us to assist Elia. She was pregnant at the time, and on the way, she got sick. Poor Wes, he was sitting in the seat in front of her. I’ll let you just imagine what happened. She felt so badly that she named her boy after him. We got to meet little Wes, who is now about 4 years old.
After lunch I had hoped to wrap up the interview, but the visitors did not leave. They were talking to one another, so I could not turn on my recorder. Therefore, I decided to just sit and listen as best as I could since they were all speaking in Tonga. I used the opportunity to ask them a few questions about the family, and I discovered that Elia gave birth to five children, three which are living. These five children gave her 23 grandchildren, and her grandchildren have given her 32 great grandchildren. She even has one great great-grandchild. Sadly, many of them have never met this wonderful little lady.
Wes arrived sometime in the afternoon, and we set up his small tent. We had only been apart one day, but we are so used to being together all the time, that one day felt like an eternity!
For supper I made chicken strips to go with our rice, and the girls made some cabbage. As we sat out under the stars eating our supper, Elia said, “I feel like an American.” She was beaming from ear to ear and staying up way past her bedtime.
After another splash bath, it was time for bed. The second day had gone by very quickly, and I truly was considering staying another day, but that was about to change. In a nearby village, there was a wedding celebration underway. We could hear the drums beating and the people singing and shouting, but we truly hoped that it would not last past midnight. I managed to fall asleep for a few hours until the drum beating increased in intensity; it did not end until 6 a.m. Needless to say, it was a sleepless night for Wes and I. Somehow Elizabeth managed to sleep through it all.
After breakfast, we took down the tents, packed up and prepared to go to church. Elia put on her best blue skirt and a red hooded fleece sweatshirt. She looked like a little Eskimo all bundled up to go out into the snow; the temperature was at least in the 80s when we left for church.
After a morning of worshipping together in the little Baptist Church of Mujika, we took Elia back to her village. Although her granddaughters were still with her, we knew they would also be leaving soon. Our hearts felt sad to say good-bye, and she wanted to know why we had to rush off. I made a commitment right then that I would lift Elia up in prayer everyday. I can’t imagine how lonely she gets. I can’t imagine what it is like day in and day out to be alone. I’m just thankful she knows Jesus, who promises to never leave her or forsake her.
No comments:
Post a Comment