Day 5: This One's for the Girls
Part I: Contemplation in Action
It hardly
seems possible that today marked only our third full day in Lusaka, when I feel
that I have experienced a greater depth of emotions that I would typically feel
in weeks in the U.S. For me, much of our experiences here showcase the Jesuit
ideal of “contemplation in action.” Typically this phrase encaptures three
phases: an experience, a reaction, and a reflection. Most of the time, this
mental process invigorates me as I am learning at a much more rapid rate than I
would be in my own comfort zone. It reminds me of my semester abroad when I
learned new French words each day, and I felt a warm-fuzzy sense of tangible
learning through immersion. But sometimes, this three-step process prohibits me
from experiencing moments in the present moment as my brain attempt to play
catch-up and wonders why I’m feeling the ways that I am. This afternoon I
experienced several of these moments, first at a wildlife preserve with a
predominantly white clientle and secondly in my ineffective bartering at a
market.
Tonight we
shared a concert with the Sacred Heart Choir, who we have will have connected
with on four different occasions during the course of our time in Lusaka. I
felt a new, invigorated joy in each of the musical pieces we offered thanks to
the electric energy filling the spacious St. Ignatius church. I learned that
each neighborhood in Zambia is assigned a parish, but since this particular
church is so popular, Zambians come from miles and miles away to attend the
masses and participate in the choir. Tonight, I was able to live only in the
present moment, which is one of the most indescribable parts of choral singing.
When the music begins, time stops.
Part II: Zam Grams (named by Andrew Kelley)
After our
concert, we removed Zambia flag pins from our dresses and pinned them on a
member of the Sacred Heart choir. Each of us had been told there would be a
reception after the concert, but little did we know that a surprise party was
waiting for us back at our hostel, complete with a banquet, drinks, and dancing
to share. While we may not have been able to invite them into our true homes,
symbolically, the choir arriving at our hostel felt much like an attempt to
create this exchange.
Before receiving our food, I chatted with a
woman named Akita and described my failed bartering attempt from earlier in the
day. I asked her how one should distinguish the best chitenge, Zambian fabric
used for clothing, and what one could expect for a fair price. After laughing
and exclaiming, “Well of course I know, I’m African!” she began to take on the
role of a “mama” as she fretted that she hadn’t been with us at the market to
negotiate prices and select the best quality. Akita then offered to hurriedly
drive my friend and I to a different market after mass tomorrow to pick out
gifts for our own mamas. If only we could adopt the Zambian time and not have
to worry about missing our bus!
I then happily found myself sitting in a circle of Zambian “grandmas,”
some of the oldest women in the choir who are honored and recognized among the
group. They are lovingly titled ‘The Girls’ among the choir (not to be confused
with the ladies, as I found out). Susan,
a member of the choir for over three decades, included me in the dinner
conversation of her circle of friends. I felt comforted with her body next to
mine, covered in a sparkling choir gown and a colorful shawl. She hilariously
shared stories from their own choir that seemed just like many of our own,
discussing whether or not their gowns would be clean for mass, the unpleasantly
early time they must arrive for rehearsals, and how the choir has vowed to
never again drink wine before performances. Susan speaks English fluently as well
as six other Zambian languages. She expresses her reasoning for this affinity
for language, explaining that she never wishes to become lost in a different
region of Zambia and always wishes to communicate with others she encounters. I
feel inadequate sitting next to her realizing the times I have traveled knowing
only “hello” or “thank you.” I ask if she is married, after having met her
grandson, and she smiles saying, “no, I am a free person,” shaking her hips to
the beat of the DJ’s song and raising her hands above her head in perfect
rhythm. She then identifies herself and her group of friends as widows. Susan
exhibits self-confidence and inclusivity in ways that I hope to emulate in my
own life.
Finally, I lean over to chat with
Pristek, a friend of Susan’s, and I share my insecurities about our American
choral music in the context of such a lively tradition of Zambian music. She
shushes me saying, “it moves people,” speaking of our performance. After
reassuring me that it’s okay for our choir to not move like the Sacred Heart
group, she shares that we are the first American choir they have ever hosted. A
smile creeps across my face as I realize the magnitude of this present moment.
To my right, three Gonzaga choir members, all young white men, are each paired
with a Zambian grandma, heads arched downwards in deep conversation. I smile
again to myself, thinking that this is one of the best parties I’ve been to in
college.
Around midnight, lights flicker a
number of times before finally plunging us into darkness. The “Zam Grams” laugh
and regretfully exclaim that our evening is ending too soon. They leave me with
kisses on the cheek and mutterings about tomorrow’s mass. I thank them in
gratitude for welcoming me into their circle, even just for a night.
Shared stories and choral singing
allow me to be present in ways that I struggle to achieve in most other aspects
of life. Our musical exchange beautifully combines these two experiences,
allowing for conversation to naturally flow from the same place in which our
hearts felt touched by shared music. With one individual’s story, I feel that I
can enjoy the experiences they share without plunging into a muddle of confused
thoughts and critical reflections. As I have learned from a Jesuit education,
we are called to sit with deep injustices and partake in remarkable joy.
Throughout the rest of our experiences, I hope to balance both.
Zikomo (thank you) to all following our journey. Today, we
move south to Monze, Zambia, where we will stay at a Jesuit mission.
Blessings,
Maria Farrier, Soprano, Class of 2017
Maria,
ReplyDeleteIt is so great to hear your thoughts and feelings so far with your trip. I am sure you must all be processing so much and that process will last for months after you return home. This type of experience is full of tensions that can be difficult to unpack. It sounds like your musical exchanges are going well and you are all getting great chances to talk with Zambians and learn from each other. I am so happy you have gotten the chance to spend time with some mammas, they will bluntly say it as it is but there is no better guide and support in the world. I can only imagine how beautiful your two choirs sound together! I am always amazed how well you can describe your experience and thoughts in writing. Enjoy the rest of your trip and I hope you are have taken a liking greens and nshima.
Kisu Mwane (blessings)
Tyler
Maria,
ReplyDeleteYou made me cry, of course. Tyler and I had to talk about how great you are for a little bit in order to cope. Keep seeking out conversations, especially with Zam Grams. I can only hope they give you sass.
Much love, lady. Light stuff on fire. Miss you!
Katie
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