Greetings from a mud hut somewhere on the African plains! My roommates greet you too--namely, the lizard, mice, and large spiders that drop from my grass roof on a regular basis. I started my time here trying to kill the spiders but am realizing that would take too much energy, so I've stopped looking when I hear something drop...my version of a "don't ask, don't tell" policy.

The humans here are much better at warm greetings. When Lois drove me to my new office last Friday, a choir of my future work associates sang for me and a drama troupe addressed me as "Your Royal Highness."

After the initial greeting, we drove four kilometers out of town on a dusty road to a group of huts where my host family, the Chisumpas, live. I almost burst into tears when I saw their home for three reasons--one, I was embarrassed by how many suitcases I brought; two, my hut was not finished since I arrived earlier than expected; and three, because it looked like I had walked onto the set for the filming of a child sponsorship commercial. Only I have to live here. For a year.

After the shock wore off, I began to appreciate the hospitality of my family (ranging from 8 to 18 members, depending on the day). They collect extra water from the bore hole for me each morning for my drinking and my bucket baths. They introduce me to everyone they know. And when preparing the meal of nshima (white paste) each evening over crackling embers, they set up a table inside for me while they eat outside on the ground. I do hope they'll let me join them soon though.

Host brother Wonde in front of my hut.

Alice, my host sister who's my age, has walked into town with me a few times to show me the Zambian ropes--how to fend off potential suitors, how to speak Kaounde (but then she'll laugh at me), and how to buy a cell phone-- that's right, I decided to cave in and get one. Alice hasn't, however, showed me how to murder the spiteful rooster who cock-a-doodle-doos at 3:00 each morning. We'll build to that I guess.

The transition overall has been challenging, especially the hygiene. My personal bubble is invaded daily by dead mice and the children who carry them around, so I've already contracted some derivative of strep throat. I have been drawing strength from the kerosine lamp-lit evenings when I have lots of time to pray and read though...and I think I'll feel even better when I start my job of training teachers this next month.

You can write or call (look up the time difference--evenings are best for me).

Amy Spaulding--Community for Human Development, Mumbwa
c/o Community for Human Development
P.O. F/W 167
Lusaka, ZAMBIA

Phone from U.S.: 011.260.97.831.2653
[International access + Country code + cellphone area code + 7-digit phone number]

This number should work from the U.S...my dad tried it. But use Skype or it'll cost you. Also, I can't call out.

Phone in Zambia: 097.831.2653

And if you pray, here's a request or five:
--That God would smite the spiteful rooster so I don't have to
--That I would be able to get used to everything else
--That my incredibly generous host family would be able to get used to me
--That I would get/stay healthy
--That I would be able to depend on God and the people here and not miss all of you too much

"As I make my slow pilgrimage through the world, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow."
-A.C. Benson

Yes, I, Amy Spaulding, am currently kissing the African earth. Wait, that was a lie. I'm actually stepping on it. But before I get into Africa, let me backtrack 1.5 weeks so you know how I got here.

Last week, in the happenin' town on Akron, PA, 104 18 to 27 year-olds got oriented on what our lives would be like abroad this next year. The sessions were informational and the staff was friendly, but what I really gained from the orientation was MUSIC. I joined a worship team and an impromptu jazz quartet, so most of my free time was spent singing. Sigh. That always makes me feel at home.

Also during orientation, the three of us going to Zambia together created TEAM Zambia, complete with a mascot and team sign. Actually, to be more accurate, I created TEAM Zambia and Tyler and Mark went along with it. (But secretly I know they think it's really cool.)

So TWO overnight flights and a splendid afternoon in London later, TEAM Zambia is now actually now in Lusaka at the Mennonite Guest House. We're staying with our country-reps-of-amazingness Siggi and Lois, their kids, and another MCC family from California just starting out here.

I've taken in a little of Lusaka via runs and drives--the sweet smell of burning rubbish and roasting maize on the side of the dirt roads, the PERFECT weather, the chards of glass lining the tops of concrete walls, a couple "How are you?" calls, and even a strip mall with the most hilarious mannequins I've ever seen! I love it here so far.

Tomorrow I say hello to my hut and goodbye to electricity and running water. A fellow MCC worker said to me yesterday, "You're going into the bush? Wow. I could never do that!" So we'll see if I actually know what I'm getting into.

And while I still probably won't kiss the African earth in the near future, I will get pretty friendly with it, considering my floor will be made of dirt...

The breakdown:

3 bags to pack
2 books to start and finish reading
1 day to go

Tomorrow morning I leave for my week-long orientation in Pennsylvania and I’ve procrastinated on completing the MCC “required summer reading.” (Oooh . . . I hope that my supervisors aren’t reading this right now since they and I are still in the acquaintance stages.) But here’s what I’m wondering: what’s the point of both a plane flight and a night before if not for cramming “required summer reading” in?

I have, however, recently read a Bible passage that is my prayer for this coming year in Zambia. Paul wrote it for the Philippians but I’d like to extend some of his encouragement my way:

“And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God” (Philippians 1.9-11).

There’s a lot in there: love and its relationship to discernment, purity, and of course, praise to God. Read it again. That’s what I want for my time in Africa.

So as far as logistics go, I’ve already “discerned that it is best” to leave behind my acrylic paints (too bulky), my big ‘ol Western belt buckle (too gaudy), and my running shorts (too short for Africa). What am I bringing? Eleven bottles of contact solution—it’s unavailable there. And, of course, Dr. Dad has armed me with more prescription meds than even Africa can throw a disease at.

You should also know that I just got a perm. I’m telling you this so that you’ll recognize me in the pictures I’ll post on this blog in the future. I figured there weren’t enough drastic changes in my life—my hair needed to get in on this.

So here I go. Off to live in a mud hut for a year to teach and learn a few things. Wish me luck (blessings?). And if this blog entry doesn’t interest you, don’t give up hope. Once I arrive in Africa I’m planning on my news only getting more exciting than the news of my new hairdo (a hairdo that does look pretty good, if I might say so myself).

And now to delve into that “required summer reading” before the summer’s officially over . . .