It started shortly after I was stopped by the police, twice on the same day. I have never been stopped by the police in my 24 years of driving in the UK. I know the rules of the road, and I pretty much uphold them (well alright, maybe a little speeding here and there). And I have to say that both times it felt like the only reason I had been stopped was because I am white and therefore a better source of money. This maybe a wrong perception but there it is. The second time, apparently I had turned right at traffic lights without waiting for the filter. I still can't see the filter. I was taken to Lusaka Central Police Station and the police officer and my friend Tamenji, who I was with at the time, discussed what should be done about me. Finally he agreed to let me off this time, since it was my first offence.
There were many other small frustrations that assumed larger proportion that they should have, the bed we'd bought had deformed, school maintenance had still not installed a shower curtain rail, or fixed the tap, or put up fly screens and the drawers in the kitchen fell apart. Far, far worse than that was realisation that child protection systems are pretty much ineffective. If a case of abuse were to be reported at school, there is no-one to report it to externally, no-one to protect, no-one to take up a child's cause. All that can be done is to try to help them learn how to protect themselves. You can be sure that no part of society is free from the abuses.
Later that week, the Friday before half term, Steve and I were talking to Fiona, one of the other Brits. She was going back to Scotland the next day for half term. As we discussed things she could bring back for us, I just could not stop crying. I realised that if I were to go home there and then, I would not come back. It was shocking to discover I felt like this. Since I was 16 I have been working towards living and working in Sub-Saharan Africa. How could I want to leave before I had even started? Fiona suggested this might be culture shock.
As I pondered this, one of the hymns we often sing at church came to mind "All I once held dear, built my life upon..." and I began to piece together what I found unsettling. Here is what I've come up with so far - my foundations:
It wasn't a bad case of culture shock and I'm learning to deal with the new situations. But there are so many things I've never had to think about before that I have no box for in my mind. I guess it takes time to process these.
