Montero Sorrows

    The first few days in Montero were spent poking around the open air market and chatting with the venders. The first day an outgoing lady said hello and then reached out to feel my hair. She wanted to know why I had it pulled up into a ponytail. The next day, as I passed, the same thing happened and I learned her name was Angela. She sold many types of greens: rape, cabbage, pumpkin leaves, etc. All of these items are used to make different types of relish to go along with the main dish Nshema. Nshema is made out of corn and has a play dough like consistency. It’s served at every meal in Zambia and generally is served scalding hot. It is meant to be eaten with your hands. First you tear off a piece, then you squish around in your hand a while to cool it off or soften it and then you dip it into whatever relish is provided and stuff yourself.

Me, Christine our guide and Ms. Barbara

                I met one man at the market who asked if when I went back to the U.S. if I would find his sister. I asked, “Hasn’t your sister called you since she left?” He looked at me like that was a dumb question. So I asked him why his sister left for the U.S. She apparently answered some add for work in California but the man had no idea what city and had not heard from his sister since she left several years earlier. It is very odd and sad to me that people would be so trusting of an add. This man will probably never meet his sister again. I doubt she ever was taken to California. It’s horrifying to think of what might have actually happened to her, and ridiculous to me that this man still seemed convinced that his sister was simply living in “California” (no city to mention) and had failed to contact him for several years. This world can be scary and people are too trusting of it.

The Montero Crew plus a few... In Zambia it's just assumed that
 everyone present is invited to the photo :)

                On one of the many bus rides to Montero, I sat next to a young woman named Cheapo and began to talk to her, just random get to know you stuff. Soon my bus stop arrived and we found we were getting off at the same stop. At once, she invited us to come to her house. That day was a special day because we had Stacy, an M from southern Zambia visiting with us. Ms. Barbara, Stacy, Christine and I all followed Cheapo down some ally ways to her house. As we walked, I learned that Cheapo was recently married, only 8 months. I congratulated her on her recent wedding and asked about her husband and what sort of job he had. I was beginning to gather that he was doing pretty well in his business. We came through a rickety gate, passed by a toddler playing in the dirt yard and came to a small block house. When Cheapo opened the door I was shocked to find beautiful furniture, a flat screen TV, Computer, etc. all crammed into her small apartment. She quickly offered us all sodas and had us sit on her very comfortable couch. I immediately told her how beautiful her apartment was, she was so thrilled to have us there and to be complimented on her house she put her face in her hands bashfully and smiled and laughed. When she came back into the room with the sodas, she asked Christine in Nianja if we would pr for her because she had been unable to conceive. I was a little surprised that she would be so concerned so soon after her marriage about having a child. But soon it was apparent how desperate Cheapo was for a child. While Cheapo is a blvr her husband is not. She said hesitantly, “My husband is frustrating me… he says he will leave me or take another wife… and then I will become nothing to him.” Stacy, understanding the situation better then all of us answered, “Tell your husband that frustrating you may keep you from having a baby, stress can be a problem.” Cheapo played with the couch pillow while speaking, occasionally looking up, but mainly avoiding eye contact as she spoke. It was clear her husband had been at the least verbally assaulting. Here, a young beautiful fit women, who appeared to have a good education, only married for 8 months, and her husband was threatening divorce. The heart breaking thing is Cheapo, though frustrated with her husband, was more concerned about conceiving a child then the abuse she was receiving from her husband.  She seemed convinced that she was the problem, but that maybe if we pr foer her that was the answer. As we talked further with her, we began to emphasis that maybe what we should pr was for her husband to know our Father. And that her Husband would see her as the gift from Gd and be content no matter what happens. She listened solemnly and began to seem more relaxed the longer we talked. Stacy, who herself had learned contenment in being childless, spoke gently to Cheapo. She said, "Your name means gift doesn't it? You need to be content and know that you are a gift to your husband even if he does not see that yet." Soon we were all pr around Cheapo, we pr she would receive the child she desired but more importantly that her husband would seek Gd and discover the gift He has already blessed him with. Christine closed the pr in Cheapo and her own heart language, Nianja. As she pr, tears rolled down Cheapo’s face. African women never cry in public, they are taught to be strong and hold in emotions. Cheapo said “I feel whole again, I had been feeling so frustrated but now I feel whole again.” She said she knew she needed to begin to read the good book again. My heart aches for Cheapo, so unloved by her husband, but loved so deeply by my father.