Sister C, Part 2 (etc.)

11/24/06

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Thoughts \ Developed Thoughts \ Rants \ Raves \ Writing

04/07/2005 21:36 +0200 GMT

Sister C., Part 2, & Other Random Thoughts

Independence day for the US, and also either Unity Day or Hero's Day for Zambia. Maggie referred to it as the Trade Show Holiday; in Ndola, in the Copperbelt, there's activities for these two days. I'm not sure of the theme or idea behind it. So despite the fact that I should have been on holiday by virtue of citizenship and by virtue of location, I worked a 10 1/2 hour day. And it was really a great day.

I arrived at Our Lady's Hospice early. It was a cool, windy morning. I felt a chill while still in bed, but braved it. I walked the grounds of Our Lady's Hospice, hoping to slowly develop familiarity in the place. I also secretly hoped that my colleagues would arrive late, which they did, so that  I could take advantage of an offer of freshly brewed tea with Sister C.

I've come a step closer to knowing her name. It's Sister Crucis, I think with the second C being hard. It's meaning I do know- "Off the Cross." Her full name is Mary Crucis. It could be Crucis or Crucus, and now I think it's with a soft second C. I must ask her tomorrow.

My anticipation proved correct. Sister Crucis arrived 'round 8:30 with her ubiquitous Zambian counterpart, Mr. N. His name is also the name of his tribe, something like Ngembe, but that's not quite right. His Bantu (people) come from the south and the southeast. He is a businessman, and an economist by training, and very, very bright and articulate. He's got a close-cut head. He wears square-framed, tinted glasses, just enough that you can see his eyes. He wears bow ties, and he carries with him a cellular phone/PDA the likes of which I have never seen. It unfolds the long way to reveal the PDA. I think he was checking the internet while we were talking a bit later. He quotes john Snow and regaled me with opinion about effective strategies for foreign investment in Zambia, as opposed to simple foreign aid, that can be placed into "a bucket that has no bottom." I digress.

Sister C and Mr. N arrived and I greeted them, and was very glad to be offered tea, which I know wouldn't be ready for a half hour or so, and we all laughed when I said to Sister C, with a twinkle in my eye, "You know I won't refuse."

They departed into the building, and I wandered the grounds some more. Later I ran into Sister C along the way. It was windy. As I walked away from the car park, and she toward it, we met, and the wind turned her nun's habit, and I noticed that she had long, straight, dark hair, which surprised me. I remembered the nuns who taught me at Our Lady of Fatima in San Clemente California. They all had short hair, which surprised me then, even as Sister C's long hair surprised me now. Sister C gave me permission to walk the grounds, "...as long as I could keep my feet in this wind," she said.

I learned she is from England, that she has a sister who is also a Sister, and a brother. I learned that she worked at UTH for some 23 years, so the round wrinkles that I see about her face now were borne from the African sun, a question that had wandered 'round in the back of my mind. 

*     *      *      *      *      *      *      *

I've written this while sitting in Danny's, an Indian restaurant at the Long Acres roundabout. Danny's completely satisfied the hedonistic void left when I learned that Shenai had closed it's doors. It would make me immensely happy if we UASOMers could eat here together on Friday.

An Indian couple sits diagonally across from me, enjoying a meal together, making me miss Maggie. Two larger, American-sized males, with two or three kids and a tall, short-and-straight haired woman sit at the table nearest mine. They are speaking French, but its got a Germanic or more Latin, sharper tone than Parisian French, I had a little trouble discerning their language, but I'm sure it's French now. If I were to wager, I would bet they're Belgian, but I could be wrong.

And behind me I hear Nyanja. A table of five or six are enjoying a meal. A child speaks of money, and it reinforces to me that this is the New Lusaka, a city that has made a sea change in it's economics of late. More Zambians are prospering, and this makes me happy, although I still have a strongly skeptical view of things here, which I will describe in a later entry.

I spotted Danny's when Kapata, Matilda, Sangwani, and I all went to lunch at LA Fast Foods just across the street. When I neared the roundabout, I remembered the first time I ate here, with Bernard Malanda, shortly after the place had debuted. I think he was still pining after Bridgette Chatora at the time. Now he's gone.

For as many memories with lost friends I have here, how many more do Lusaka Zambians have? At how many turns of the road, eating places, ...what weights of grief do these Zambians carry - in units I can not fathom? But we press on. 

Danny's has moved. There were only two cars in the car park when I arrived - a favorable sign to me. I like having the place to myself. Danny's is now my new Shenai's.

Tomorrow I will be in the office for the first time in a week. (I've been in clinics most days, of late.) I'm to learn the role of supervisor for data entry of the data that I learned how to expertly extract over the last several days in the clinics. I must say that this bouncing around, responding to the winds of needs, has given me a lot of perspective into the data operations for CIDRZ. They have performed with excellent diligence, and I will have to bring my "A" game to match the standards that have been established. I'm up to it, and very very glad to be a cog in this machine.

*     *      *      *      *      *      *      *

I need a haircut. (This is part of the "etc.")

*     *      *      *      *      *      *      *

My clothes are soaking in the tub at home, in hot water and detergent. I'll scrub them, rinse them, and hang them in the bushes in the Stringer's back yard to dry. So clothes will be settled. Aggie did a load for me the first week too.

*     *      *      *      *      *      *      *

The medical students I met from Kansas City will join us at the Falls this weekend. That'd be pretty cool.

*     *      *      *      *      *      *      *

There's more to write about the enigmatic Sister C. I learned she's been in Zambia a long time, as I said above, 23 years at UTH. To me that means she has truly seen it all, and I'd be fascinated to hear her story, her perspective on the changes in Lusaka, the epidemic, the role of religion in a sexually transmitted disease epidemic, and how she arrived at where she is now. Something strikes me about Sister C. I've often seen long time ex-pats in Zambia most strongly characterized by a personality dysfunction or another. That is not to say all who work here are this way, but a significant minority are, in my opinion. Sister C is not, and given her tenure here, that makes me even more curious about her story.

*     *      *      *      *      *      *      *

As I re-read this, the Zambian family behind me entered into conversation about exercise, bending the bars, pushing weights, and...of all things...dieting. Lusaka has changed, man.

     

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