Sometime in the afternoon, we took off in the landrover again with the same people, but minus Alex and plus Barnabas. We went to Mapogoro, the next village over, to visit the Mtwavila family , who's daughter was also sponsored by my church to attend Idodi, and died in the fire. This family was of the Hehe tribe, I think, and lived in a very nice brick and cement house. We met the father and adult brother, and three women, one of whom was a sister. We all sat in a livingroom-type area on cushioned chairs, and Jacob, the evangelist for Mapogoro, led us in a hymn from the Mwimbieni Bwana, their Lutheran hymnal. Mom gave them words of comfort, a gift of t-shirts, and a necklace for the sister. It's hard for me to think that these two girls had survived all the more common causes of death in Tanzania--malaria, AIDS, bad water etc.--and had gone to school, a place of hope and opportunity, but that is where their lives tragically ended. The only thing we can do, though, is to move forward with them in mind so that we can change things for the better.
This visit was interesting because it was so different from the last. I saw the father wipe a tear away from his eye, but other that, it looked to me like they were in the acceptance process. They were solemn. I wonder how the grieving process varies from tribe to tribe, between women, me, and children. How are they expected to act? A question for my next trip. There were prayers, Mungu akubariki's (God bless you), and pole sana's (very sorry). The brother invited us to his duka, shop, for drinks, so we headed for what I guess you could call downtown Mapogoro. We all sat outside the store in plastic chairs drinking Pepsi and Mirinda and Coke, and the atmosphere seemed to change 360 degrees. We were talking, joking and laughing. I sat and listened, and wondered if we were acting appropriately. I quietly asked Mom, and she gave me the I-don't-know-what-to-tell-ya shrug. "It did kind of happen already," she said. Okaaay. So I just went with it. Next door to us was a bar, and it sounded as if someone was watching a sci-fi movie like Star Trek at very high volume. There were booms and bangs and it was kinda strange. Alex arrived on his bike and approached our group. "Get your book out, Mom, quick!" I whispered. She did, and greeted him with her newly-learned Barabeig word that she read from her notebook. Alex giggles and shakes her hand. Mom is a bit confused now, because on our return she looked at her notebook from her previous trip and found the Barabeig words she learned then. Her last trip, aguna maida bash bakhoda meant good afternoon. This time, we were told praise the Lord. Did something get lost in translation, you think? I love language.
We stayed at the shop for maybe half an hour, then we headed back to Tungamalenga Camp in the good old landrover. We all got back, sat down under the mango tree and talked until dark (and dark in Tanzania is dark). Then we said goodnight to them all, went to have our dinner, and just crashed in our rooms after the long, but very good day. I really enjoyed being there when nothing was really set to happen, we could just wander along at our own pace, and see people living their real lives, not trying to make everything perfect for the wazungu (white people). I feel very grateful for the experiences and memories I have been given by this day in Tungamalenga: sad ones, and happy ones, discouraging ones, and yet hopeful ones. It is something I will not forget.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
My Day Not On Safari: Part III
We drove to Isanga, another preaching point nearby. Isanga is a mix of Hehe, Bena and Masai tribes, and the chapel they worship in is just a bit bigger than my bedroom (i.e., not very big at all). There were five girls there who were afraid to go back to Idodi Secondary School after the fire. That disaster had to happen when students were preparing to take their national exams. After the fire the school was closed for three weeks and students were sent back home. But there was hope at Isanga, too. We saw the piles of bricks they planned to use to build a house for the evangelist there, which is something of great need. We didn't stay too long there, but we sang, we prayed, gave gifts and recieved gifts. The whole trip seems to be one big act of humbly accepting gifts from our Tanzanian partners, whether they are tangible gifts or not.
After that we drove back to Tungamalenga for lunch at the parish hall. Alice, a primary school teacher who also helped prepare lunch, asked me, "Emmy, how many Swahili words did you learn today?" I confessed I hadn't practiced during our drive. The only person I wasn't afraid to make linguistic mistakes in front of was our translator, who was asleep most of the ride. Alice and I always practiced though. I felt kind of proud because when people would be talking in Swahili, I would sometimes understand the gist of the conversation, not just a few random words. Progress!
After we ate, Mom and I learned another language. We already knew basic greetings in Swahili, Masai and Hehe, and now it was time for Barabeig. One of our traveling companions was a young evangelist named Alex, a member of the Barabeig tribe. He came over to our table and at Mom's request taught us a few words in the language. I can't even explain how hilarious our lesson was. Alex only speaks Barabeig and Swahili, and Pastor Paulo next to us only Masai and Swahili, so we enlisted the help of Alice's husband Barnabas, clinical officer of the village dispensary, who was on the other side of the room, to translate for us. Here's how the conversation went: Alex would say a phrase (aguna maida bash bakhoda), Mom would say, "What? Say it again?" Alex wouldn't understand, Barnabas would repeat her question in Swahili, then Alex would say it again slower (a-gu-na ma-i-da bash ba-kho-da), Mom and I would say it back again (aguna maida bash...?), he'd correct us, Mom would exclaim, "Ooh, let me write this down!" and Pastor Paulo and I would look at each other, laughing and laughing. Repeat all this for maybe 20 minutes (with different Barabeig words of course), and you have one of my highlights of the trip. Alex was so nice and patient with us, too, firmly shaking our hands when we said something right. As a matter of fact, he seemed in slight disbelief that we were trying at all. It's nice to find out that language can be a bridge and not a barrier.
After that we drove back to Tungamalenga for lunch at the parish hall. Alice, a primary school teacher who also helped prepare lunch, asked me, "Emmy, how many Swahili words did you learn today?" I confessed I hadn't practiced during our drive. The only person I wasn't afraid to make linguistic mistakes in front of was our translator, who was asleep most of the ride. Alice and I always practiced though. I felt kind of proud because when people would be talking in Swahili, I would sometimes understand the gist of the conversation, not just a few random words. Progress!
After we ate, Mom and I learned another language. We already knew basic greetings in Swahili, Masai and Hehe, and now it was time for Barabeig. One of our traveling companions was a young evangelist named Alex, a member of the Barabeig tribe. He came over to our table and at Mom's request taught us a few words in the language. I can't even explain how hilarious our lesson was. Alex only speaks Barabeig and Swahili, and Pastor Paulo next to us only Masai and Swahili, so we enlisted the help of Alice's husband Barnabas, clinical officer of the village dispensary, who was on the other side of the room, to translate for us. Here's how the conversation went: Alex would say a phrase (aguna maida bash bakhoda), Mom would say, "What? Say it again?" Alex wouldn't understand, Barnabas would repeat her question in Swahili, then Alex would say it again slower (a-gu-na ma-i-da bash ba-kho-da), Mom and I would say it back again (aguna maida bash...?), he'd correct us, Mom would exclaim, "Ooh, let me write this down!" and Pastor Paulo and I would look at each other, laughing and laughing. Repeat all this for maybe 20 minutes (with different Barabeig words of course), and you have one of my highlights of the trip. Alex was so nice and patient with us, too, firmly shaking our hands when we said something right. As a matter of fact, he seemed in slight disbelief that we were trying at all. It's nice to find out that language can be a bridge and not a barrier.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Em:My Day Not On Safari, Part II
Picking up from where I left off:
The sympathy was for the friends and family of Chake Kuyaa, a young student sponsored by my church who died in the Idodi Secondary School fire on month ago, with 11 other girls. There wasn't much we could do at all except offer our condolences and our prayers.
At certain points we would have a 3-language translation going, with Petro speaking in Kimasai, Pastor Paulo translating to Kiswahili, then our translator Mfaume ending in English. After the formal speech making, the women, who had been cooking something a little ways away, served us all groundnuts, goat meat, and pop. The meat was good, kind of greasy and tender, but I never knew which part I was supposed to eat or not. The meal was even better washed down with a pop called Mirinda Mango. Everybody ate with us, though I felt bad only Mom, Mfaume, Pastor Paulo and myself were sitting on stools and chairs. Everyone else sat on the ground , kneeled or stayed standing. On the other hand, if I just sat with them, I'd be disrespecting their hospitality. Hosts and guests each have their own role to play. People sang while we ate.
Afterwards Mom, the rest of the landrover group and I walked a short distance to the house of Chake's mother. We were going to make a "consolation visit."
Now, Masai houses are very different, even from other African houses. They are called bomas, and the one we were in was made of sticks and a thatch roof. It was held up by thick tree limbs, had two rooms, dirt floors and was about four or five feet tall. There were threee women inside sitting on a cow skin, Mama Chake in the middle and two old women on either side. Two calves stood in the corner. Mom and Mfaume took two wooden stools while I sat beside the women on the cow skin, and the others stood. Mama Chake looked so devastated and lethargic, as if her daughter had died last week instead of last month. She said that her husband was very old and that since the fire he's been living with a relative because she didn't have the energy to care for him. My mom spoke with her, held her hand and hugged her. I was glad that she could always think of fitting things to say for that moment, and that it was her job to represent our group as a whole. I would not have been able to find any words to comfort Mama Chake. Mom also gave her a card that had been signed by many people at church who had heard about the fire (along with a bit of money) and a card from Chake's sponsors. Mama Chake had been sniffling the whole time, but now she just broke down and cried, and Mom hugged her. Pastor Paulo led us in a prayer. During the prayer, to my astonishment, the calf in the corner started peeing. You could have knocked me over with a feather. All I could think was OH MY GOD! That calf was so close to the women, too. One of them kind of swatted her hand at it, but other than that no one reacted. A holy moment interrupted by life. After that we ended our visit, maybe 20 minutes, and said our good byes, shook hands, and then continued back to the area we had gathered at before. As we neared our vehicle, Mom discussed something with our group. She wanted to give a gift of money for their chapel construction in honor of Chake. It felt like the only thing of use we could do. The people were grateful for that. You may think that worshipping under a tree (like we were) is romantic and liken it to Abraham's time, but to construct an actual building for that purpose sends out the message that the Masai are serious, and they are here to stay. The people were grateful for it, and I cannot wait to see the chapel when it's finished.
The sympathy was for the friends and family of Chake Kuyaa, a young student sponsored by my church who died in the Idodi Secondary School fire on month ago, with 11 other girls. There wasn't much we could do at all except offer our condolences and our prayers.
At certain points we would have a 3-language translation going, with Petro speaking in Kimasai, Pastor Paulo translating to Kiswahili, then our translator Mfaume ending in English. After the formal speech making, the women, who had been cooking something a little ways away, served us all groundnuts, goat meat, and pop. The meat was good, kind of greasy and tender, but I never knew which part I was supposed to eat or not. The meal was even better washed down with a pop called Mirinda Mango. Everybody ate with us, though I felt bad only Mom, Mfaume, Pastor Paulo and myself were sitting on stools and chairs. Everyone else sat on the ground , kneeled or stayed standing. On the other hand, if I just sat with them, I'd be disrespecting their hospitality. Hosts and guests each have their own role to play. People sang while we ate.
Afterwards Mom, the rest of the landrover group and I walked a short distance to the house of Chake's mother. We were going to make a "consolation visit."
Now, Masai houses are very different, even from other African houses. They are called bomas, and the one we were in was made of sticks and a thatch roof. It was held up by thick tree limbs, had two rooms, dirt floors and was about four or five feet tall. There were threee women inside sitting on a cow skin, Mama Chake in the middle and two old women on either side. Two calves stood in the corner. Mom and Mfaume took two wooden stools while I sat beside the women on the cow skin, and the others stood. Mama Chake looked so devastated and lethargic, as if her daughter had died last week instead of last month. She said that her husband was very old and that since the fire he's been living with a relative because she didn't have the energy to care for him. My mom spoke with her, held her hand and hugged her. I was glad that she could always think of fitting things to say for that moment, and that it was her job to represent our group as a whole. I would not have been able to find any words to comfort Mama Chake. Mom also gave her a card that had been signed by many people at church who had heard about the fire (along with a bit of money) and a card from Chake's sponsors. Mama Chake had been sniffling the whole time, but now she just broke down and cried, and Mom hugged her. Pastor Paulo led us in a prayer. During the prayer, to my astonishment, the calf in the corner started peeing. You could have knocked me over with a feather. All I could think was OH MY GOD! That calf was so close to the women, too. One of them kind of swatted her hand at it, but other than that no one reacted. A holy moment interrupted by life. After that we ended our visit, maybe 20 minutes, and said our good byes, shook hands, and then continued back to the area we had gathered at before. As we neared our vehicle, Mom discussed something with our group. She wanted to give a gift of money for their chapel construction in honor of Chake. It felt like the only thing of use we could do. The people were grateful for that. You may think that worshipping under a tree (like we were) is romantic and liken it to Abraham's time, but to construct an actual building for that purpose sends out the message that the Masai are serious, and they are here to stay. The people were grateful for it, and I cannot wait to see the chapel when it's finished.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Em: My Day Not On Safari, part 1
On Wednesday, our penultimate day in Tungamalenga, three members of our group got up bright and early to go to Ruaha National Park for a day-and-a-half safari. My mom and I stayed in the village while they were gone. Mom had done that twice before and loved "kuzunguka zunguka-ing," walking circles around Tunga, meeting people in a much more informal manner, and having freetime for long and contructive conversations. I did it with her because: You've seen one giraffe, you've seen them all, I saved a small amount of money by staying, and I liked the idea of "kuzunguka zunguka-ing" too. I wanted to spend more time with the people I'd met before time ran out.
After the three left, the landrover Mom had hired arrived. We were going to the Masai village of Mahove, and with us came our driver Titus, associate Mchungaji Paulo (the first ordained Masai pastor in the diocese), five evangelists and partnership committee members, and our translator Mfaume, a soon-to-be university graduate. Ten of us fit in the seven-seater, with Mom and I sharing the front passenger seat, and we were soon on our bumpy way to Mahove. It took perhaps 20 minutes, where we went through several villages, and then through a rough path in the Tanzanian bush. We didn't have a clue how Titus knew his way, when there was hardly a road to follow. I imagined the directions sounding like, "Turn left at the tree. No--the other tree. Yeah, that one. Then, see that bush? The little one with the pointy needles?" It all looked the same to me.
We were nearing our destination when we stopped. Blocking our was was a large bundle of sticks, a woman's kitenge cloth, and a pair of shoes. Titus called out something to the trees in Swahili once, then twice. The second time, people slowly started appearing from behind the trees, they gathered their things and we continued driving. Titus laughed and told us, "They thought we were soldiers." I found out that Mahove is part of a reserve, therefore it's illegal to cut the trees for firewood, which they need to cook their food. Mahove doesn't have easy access to water either, and it's a long walk to get it. The government told the Masai, traditionally a nomadic herding people, to settle in this one place, far from these necessities, and isolated from other villages and people. I have no idea why they were put there.
Shortly afterwards, we arrived at the preaching point and we popped out of the landrover. We were greeted by evangelist Azuberi Mhema and people of the congregation. They showed us to some small wooden chairs on a tarp, and we were mercifully shaded by another tarp hung from two trees. Azuberi and Petro, the other evangelist who is Masai, led the people in songs you can't help but clap to. Azuberi read a report, telling us there are 106 church members, 51 of whom are adults. Their main goals are to build an actual chapel--presently they worship outside--and they're in the process of organizing to buy cement and collect the bricks. And of course they asked for help to build a well. This was the second time a group from my church had visited Mahove. Mchungaji Paulo got up and read a verse from Colossions in Kihehe, a very different tribal language from his own. People were impressed and entertained by that.
After that, Mom got up to say words of thanks and sympathy. The thanks was for welcoming us so graciously, and for working hard to build a chapel.
After the three left, the landrover Mom had hired arrived. We were going to the Masai village of Mahove, and with us came our driver Titus, associate Mchungaji Paulo (the first ordained Masai pastor in the diocese), five evangelists and partnership committee members, and our translator Mfaume, a soon-to-be university graduate. Ten of us fit in the seven-seater, with Mom and I sharing the front passenger seat, and we were soon on our bumpy way to Mahove. It took perhaps 20 minutes, where we went through several villages, and then through a rough path in the Tanzanian bush. We didn't have a clue how Titus knew his way, when there was hardly a road to follow. I imagined the directions sounding like, "Turn left at the tree. No--the other tree. Yeah, that one. Then, see that bush? The little one with the pointy needles?" It all looked the same to me.
We were nearing our destination when we stopped. Blocking our was was a large bundle of sticks, a woman's kitenge cloth, and a pair of shoes. Titus called out something to the trees in Swahili once, then twice. The second time, people slowly started appearing from behind the trees, they gathered their things and we continued driving. Titus laughed and told us, "They thought we were soldiers." I found out that Mahove is part of a reserve, therefore it's illegal to cut the trees for firewood, which they need to cook their food. Mahove doesn't have easy access to water either, and it's a long walk to get it. The government told the Masai, traditionally a nomadic herding people, to settle in this one place, far from these necessities, and isolated from other villages and people. I have no idea why they were put there.
Shortly afterwards, we arrived at the preaching point and we popped out of the landrover. We were greeted by evangelist Azuberi Mhema and people of the congregation. They showed us to some small wooden chairs on a tarp, and we were mercifully shaded by another tarp hung from two trees. Azuberi and Petro, the other evangelist who is Masai, led the people in songs you can't help but clap to. Azuberi read a report, telling us there are 106 church members, 51 of whom are adults. Their main goals are to build an actual chapel--presently they worship outside--and they're in the process of organizing to buy cement and collect the bricks. And of course they asked for help to build a well. This was the second time a group from my church had visited Mahove. Mchungaji Paulo got up and read a verse from Colossions in Kihehe, a very different tribal language from his own. People were impressed and entertained by that.
After that, Mom got up to say words of thanks and sympathy. The thanks was for welcoming us so graciously, and for working hard to build a chapel.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Tanzania: October 16
Our group has returned to Iringa after six wonderful days in Tungamalenga! We are all doing well and in good spirits. We have enjoyed wonderful hospitality, laughter and tears, dancing, Swahili lessons, and more joyful dancing.Our partnership is going well.
Major progress was made in completing the interior of the Tungamalenga Chapel and altar area; a new chapel at Mpalapande that was just a foundation in January now has complete walls and roof! Several other village congregations have begun to make bricks and gather foundation stones for their own planned chapels.
At the dispensary, Dr. Barnabas is in negotiations with the district medical officer to establish a maternal child health clinic--this would provide well child visits, prenatal visits, and vaccinations with the costs supported by government funding. He is also in the process of getting the dispensary approved for the Community Health Fund (sort of like universal health coverage, which is affordable for Tanzanian families and services are reimbursed by the government). If all this planning goes well, there will be many patients at the clinic.
We are meeting scholarship students everywhere we go, and collecting letters for sponsors. The thanks we receive for scholarship support is overwhelming. We are always reminding people here that it is not just those of us they see who provide scholarships, but the many families at home at SOTV, and we will take them our thanks.
We had a very moving day at Idodi Secondary School. To see the burned dormitory, now being readied for rebuilding, to see the bathroom window through which some girls escaped with help from those outside, and then to walk up the hill to an enclosure where twelve graves are mounded and covered with wreaths of flowers, marked only by numbers one through twelve---I have no words for the sorrow we feel. As we visited several village congregations, we also met students from Idodi who were afraid to go back to school, and parents who were afraid to send them. Please continue to pray for all those affected by the fire.
While the rest of the group went on safari to Ruaha National Park, hosting Pastor Naftal and his wife, Emily and Kirsten remained in the village for a few more visits. We made two "consolation visits" to the families of Chake Kuyaa and Elisi Mtwavila, two students sponsored by SOTV who died in the fire. At a Maasai village, we met the mother of Chake. She is desolate. At Mapogoro, we met the father, brother and sister of Elisi. We prayed, cried, and prayed again. We have a new understanding of the phrase, "the consolation of the saints."
Tomorrow is the graduation of Mfaume Kisakanike at Tumaini University. We are so excited to spend this day with him. The assistant bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tanzania is here for the occasion. (The really big potato, as they say here.) Then Sunday we will worship at Ilula, tour the hospital, have dinner with Dr. Saga, and drive part way to Dar. On Monday, we drive the rest of the way to Dar and fly home, arriving Tuesday afternoon if all goes well and we don't miss any connections.
Thank you for your prayers and your support of this partnership. We are learning every day what an amazing impact we are having among our partners, and how grateful they are for our partnership.See you soon!
Major progress was made in completing the interior of the Tungamalenga Chapel and altar area; a new chapel at Mpalapande that was just a foundation in January now has complete walls and roof! Several other village congregations have begun to make bricks and gather foundation stones for their own planned chapels.
At the dispensary, Dr. Barnabas is in negotiations with the district medical officer to establish a maternal child health clinic--this would provide well child visits, prenatal visits, and vaccinations with the costs supported by government funding. He is also in the process of getting the dispensary approved for the Community Health Fund (sort of like universal health coverage, which is affordable for Tanzanian families and services are reimbursed by the government). If all this planning goes well, there will be many patients at the clinic.
We are meeting scholarship students everywhere we go, and collecting letters for sponsors. The thanks we receive for scholarship support is overwhelming. We are always reminding people here that it is not just those of us they see who provide scholarships, but the many families at home at SOTV, and we will take them our thanks.
We had a very moving day at Idodi Secondary School. To see the burned dormitory, now being readied for rebuilding, to see the bathroom window through which some girls escaped with help from those outside, and then to walk up the hill to an enclosure where twelve graves are mounded and covered with wreaths of flowers, marked only by numbers one through twelve---I have no words for the sorrow we feel. As we visited several village congregations, we also met students from Idodi who were afraid to go back to school, and parents who were afraid to send them. Please continue to pray for all those affected by the fire.
While the rest of the group went on safari to Ruaha National Park, hosting Pastor Naftal and his wife, Emily and Kirsten remained in the village for a few more visits. We made two "consolation visits" to the families of Chake Kuyaa and Elisi Mtwavila, two students sponsored by SOTV who died in the fire. At a Maasai village, we met the mother of Chake. She is desolate. At Mapogoro, we met the father, brother and sister of Elisi. We prayed, cried, and prayed again. We have a new understanding of the phrase, "the consolation of the saints."
Tomorrow is the graduation of Mfaume Kisakanike at Tumaini University. We are so excited to spend this day with him. The assistant bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tanzania is here for the occasion. (The really big potato, as they say here.) Then Sunday we will worship at Ilula, tour the hospital, have dinner with Dr. Saga, and drive part way to Dar. On Monday, we drive the rest of the way to Dar and fly home, arriving Tuesday afternoon if all goes well and we don't miss any connections.
Thank you for your prayers and your support of this partnership. We are learning every day what an amazing impact we are having among our partners, and how grateful they are for our partnership.See you soon!
Tanzania: October 9
We have arrived safely in Tanzania after our long air flights and an even longer than usual bus ride from Dar es Salaam to Iringa. We were driving in tandem with another vehicle yesterday, that vehicle had a breakdown, we spent a few extra hours going for the needed part and repairing the vehicle, and finally arrived at the Lutheran Center after 13 hours on the road. It was a good day! We really enjoyed seeing the variety of terrain as we crossed from the tropical coastal area, across the savannah and then into the highlands. As we drove through Mikumi Game Park we saw our first giraffes, impala, zebra, elephant, and baboons.
We traveled with a group from Arlington Hills Lutheran in St Paul, and with old friends, the Rev. Tom and Beth Hansen who are coming to staff the Bega Kwa Bega office for the next two months, and with Rev. Lamont Koerner, who will be teaching New Testament courses at Tumaini University this semester.
Today we visited the office of the Iringa Diocese of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tanzania and were greeted by old friends, Dean Gavile and General Secretary Nayman Chavalla. Bishop Mdegella is in Rome this month, attending meetings of the World Council of Churches. We also got our newcomers acclimated to the Iringa market, visited the Neema (Grace) Craft Workshop, which employs people with disabilities. We purchased medicines for the dispensary with the help of Dr. Saga from Ilula Hospital, and we were joined by Pastor Naftal Ng'amillo from Tungamalenga as we went about our meetings and errands.
This afternoon's highlight was a visit to Huruma Orphanage, where we played with the children, delivered gifts for Christmas, and learned that the cows we have sent are providing milk for the children at every meal. We also received updates about the four students sponsored by SOTV from this orphanage. Three are attending school in Iringa while living at the orphanage, and all three are doing well. The fourth, Christian, was accepted at a school for especially talented students in Dar es Salaam, and Mama Chilewe tells us he is doing very very well there. There are seven more children from Huruma who will be ready for secondary school in January 2010, and we will be seeking sponsors from SOTV to help support their education.
Tomorrow we will purchase four bicycles and then be on our way to Tungamalenga for the coming week. Barnabas Kahwage has been attending a medical seminar and will be meeting us for the ride back to Tungamalenga.
Today we have had just a taste of the warm hospitality of our Tanzanian friends, and have heard from those at the diocese how much they appreciate the support that SOTV provides through this partnership. I'm sure we will experience even more of that as we go to Tungamalenga to be among our closest friends.
Miss you all, wish you could all experience the wonders and joy we are experiencing here! We are so grateful for your prayers, for our safety and well being, and for the work we do here with our partners.Mungu akubariki! God bless you!
We traveled with a group from Arlington Hills Lutheran in St Paul, and with old friends, the Rev. Tom and Beth Hansen who are coming to staff the Bega Kwa Bega office for the next two months, and with Rev. Lamont Koerner, who will be teaching New Testament courses at Tumaini University this semester.
Today we visited the office of the Iringa Diocese of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tanzania and were greeted by old friends, Dean Gavile and General Secretary Nayman Chavalla. Bishop Mdegella is in Rome this month, attending meetings of the World Council of Churches. We also got our newcomers acclimated to the Iringa market, visited the Neema (Grace) Craft Workshop, which employs people with disabilities. We purchased medicines for the dispensary with the help of Dr. Saga from Ilula Hospital, and we were joined by Pastor Naftal Ng'amillo from Tungamalenga as we went about our meetings and errands.
This afternoon's highlight was a visit to Huruma Orphanage, where we played with the children, delivered gifts for Christmas, and learned that the cows we have sent are providing milk for the children at every meal. We also received updates about the four students sponsored by SOTV from this orphanage. Three are attending school in Iringa while living at the orphanage, and all three are doing well. The fourth, Christian, was accepted at a school for especially talented students in Dar es Salaam, and Mama Chilewe tells us he is doing very very well there. There are seven more children from Huruma who will be ready for secondary school in January 2010, and we will be seeking sponsors from SOTV to help support their education.
Tomorrow we will purchase four bicycles and then be on our way to Tungamalenga for the coming week. Barnabas Kahwage has been attending a medical seminar and will be meeting us for the ride back to Tungamalenga.
Today we have had just a taste of the warm hospitality of our Tanzanian friends, and have heard from those at the diocese how much they appreciate the support that SOTV provides through this partnership. I'm sure we will experience even more of that as we go to Tungamalenga to be among our closest friends.
Miss you all, wish you could all experience the wonders and joy we are experiencing here! We are so grateful for your prayers, for our safety and well being, and for the work we do here with our partners.Mungu akubariki! God bless you!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Make me an instrument of thy peace
One of my favorite prayers....the prayer of St Francis of Assisi.
Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is sadness, joy; where there is darkness, light.
O divine master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; not so much to be understood, as to understand; not so much to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.
Tomorrow Em and I are traveling to Tanzania, my sixth trip and her second. This prayer, and a little book of meditations based on it by South African writer Alan Paton, will be daily devotional material for our traveling group.
When we travel to a new place, especially a place as far away in terms of distance, culture, comfort, and values as Tanzania is from suburban USA, it can be hard to step outside our bubble of self awareness. When we're struggling with basic comfort--toilets, bottled water, crowded buses, 4 inch foam mattresses, food that is new, language differences, cultural gaps--it's hard to get to the point where every experience is NOT "all about me." It can be hard to realize that the plumbing is not a personal affront. It can be hard to get past the feeling of how "heroic" we are to simply be there, and get to the point where we can really experience being there.
I'm in my comfort zone in the village. My wardrobe fits in a carry on bag, two skirts and a half dozen t-shirts. Hiking boots to protect my weak ankle. Every morning, a shower, sometimes warm. Lots of Purel in my pack.
As I walk through the village, children shout "Mzungu!" ("white person!") I've been there often enough that some shout "Mama Kirsten" or "Mama Christian."
It would be easy to get a big head, to think that we are somehow bringing the kingdom to these people.
But no. God was here long before we came for a visit. God has been here blessing this community with a deep love, with broad connectedness, with deep compassion. What we found when we first visited was a joy that defied the poverty, a hope that defied the hopelessness, and a compassion in community that we americans envy.
The little bit of good that we do--bringing medicines for the dispensary, bringing scholarships for secondary and university students, funding the micro loans and agricultural projects that bring a small bit of economic development--seems like a drop in the bucket of the great needs that exist here. We are simply instruments, simply hands and feet participating in the ongoing work of God.
Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is sadness, joy; where there is darkness, light.
O divine master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; not so much to be understood, as to understand; not so much to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.
Tomorrow Em and I are traveling to Tanzania, my sixth trip and her second. This prayer, and a little book of meditations based on it by South African writer Alan Paton, will be daily devotional material for our traveling group.
When we travel to a new place, especially a place as far away in terms of distance, culture, comfort, and values as Tanzania is from suburban USA, it can be hard to step outside our bubble of self awareness. When we're struggling with basic comfort--toilets, bottled water, crowded buses, 4 inch foam mattresses, food that is new, language differences, cultural gaps--it's hard to get to the point where every experience is NOT "all about me." It can be hard to realize that the plumbing is not a personal affront. It can be hard to get past the feeling of how "heroic" we are to simply be there, and get to the point where we can really experience being there.
I'm in my comfort zone in the village. My wardrobe fits in a carry on bag, two skirts and a half dozen t-shirts. Hiking boots to protect my weak ankle. Every morning, a shower, sometimes warm. Lots of Purel in my pack.
As I walk through the village, children shout "Mzungu!" ("white person!") I've been there often enough that some shout "Mama Kirsten" or "Mama Christian."
It would be easy to get a big head, to think that we are somehow bringing the kingdom to these people.
But no. God was here long before we came for a visit. God has been here blessing this community with a deep love, with broad connectedness, with deep compassion. What we found when we first visited was a joy that defied the poverty, a hope that defied the hopelessness, and a compassion in community that we americans envy.
The little bit of good that we do--bringing medicines for the dispensary, bringing scholarships for secondary and university students, funding the micro loans and agricultural projects that bring a small bit of economic development--seems like a drop in the bucket of the great needs that exist here. We are simply instruments, simply hands and feet participating in the ongoing work of God.
Em:Waiting
Lots of people have asked me if I'm ready to leave for Tanzania. The answer is yes. I've been bored since Saturday. What to do, now that I'm all done preparing and packing? Thank god there's a football game on tonight--and a Vikings vs. Packers one at that! Should be very exciting. It's the perfect Last American Thing I need to experience before we leave. Because football is definitely a unique American thing. If you ask anybody in Tanzania about football (or in any other foreign country for that matter), they'll be talking about soccer, the ball game where you actually use your foot. It'd be no use asking anybody their opinion on the Favre un-retirement, just like it'd be no use for them to ask me about David Beckham. But anyways, Go Vikings, don't fall down, Brett, and run, Adrian, run.
When my mom and I are in Tanzania, we'll be pretty busy, but if we have any down time and are near a computer--like during our layovers and time in Iringa--we might have a chance to update the blog every once in awhile. Although we won't be posting pictures until we get back, but I'm sure there will be stories to tell. So keep reading!
When my mom and I are in Tanzania, we'll be pretty busy, but if we have any down time and are near a computer--like during our layovers and time in Iringa--we might have a chance to update the blog every once in awhile. Although we won't be posting pictures until we get back, but I'm sure there will be stories to tell. So keep reading!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)