Sukumaland Snapshots

2011-01-20T04:46:00.001-08:00

New team website!!!

Hey everybody. We have a new team website. Please drop by at www.missionmwanza.org.

2011-01-20T00:55:00.001-08:00

Samson, elder at Nyabusang'wa
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Who is Lord of the Rain?

Heavy rains can be an inconvenience to our life here. Our laundry never has time to dry on the clothesline. The unpredictable electricity becomes more so. The slow internet stops working entirely. And the dirt roads turn into mud bogs.

Two weeks ago, while sliding on a wet path, I struck a sharp rock, puncturing the sidewall of one my tires. I struggled to get the Landcruiser to a safe, dry place for a tire change. Not long afterwards, the windshield wiper, fatigued from pushing mud out of my view, decided to break off (thankfully I found the main parts, and patched the wiper together with an old bicycle spoke, a.k.a. village duct tape).

But when I arrived at Nyabusang'wa with a mud-covered car, they were not sympathetic to my struggle to arrive at their church service. Rather, they were jealous of the other places that had obviously seen rain that had not reached their fields. It was a sentiment that could have been shared by nearly all of our churches—the current rains are two months late.

For our churches, this is a crisis, as people are struggling to make their food stores last until March, the earliest possible time for a harvest. And it is a spiritual ordeal, as some village leaders are coercing every household to contribute money for a sacrifice to the traditional rainmakers.

On this day, I preached a sermon that I’ve never heard in the states: Who is Lord of the Rain? People were very engaged as we compared biblical stories like Noah, Elijah, Job 37-38, Psalm 29, and Jesus in the storm with traditional beliefs of rain-making kings and droughts caused by social sin (like the birthing of twins). When we came to the question, “therefore, who should we turn to when we are concerned about rain?”, the answer was universal: “Mulungu”—the Sukuma word for God.

Of greater significance was the lunchtime conversation with three church leaders, as we talked about issues ranging from leadership, church discipline, and measuring the health of the churches in their cluster. This was the more significant aspect of my day--while I can occasionally come and teach about an issue like rain, it is these leaders that minister daily to new Christians struggling to keep their faith through times of trial.

(in addendum—we have experienced two weeks of heavy rain since this church visit. While our clothes are a little musty, we are thankful for the blessing sent by the Lord of the Rain.)

new team picture

2010-12-29T01:33:00.001-08:00

DSC_0290
Originally uploaded by lindermans

2010-05-05T04:29:00.001-07:00

The Sukuma: do they eat people?

DSC_0017
Originally uploaded by lindermans

This is Wilberforce, a gentle old Luhya man who guided our family through the Kakamega rain forest in Kenya last month.

After learning a great deal from him, sampling wild leaves and berrys, spotting endemic bird species, and identifying local herbal remedies, the conversation turned to our work in Tanzania.

"OOOOH. The Sukuma. We hear that they eat people. Is this true?"

Having lived in Sukumaland for four years, I've yet to be eaten.

But he went on to other rumors. "we hear that the Sukuma have magical powers, even to raise people from the dead."

This, I had to concede, is true (at least in common belief). Traditional Sukuma religion has a strong belief in "the living dead", aka zombies, and there are countless stories of people being harrassed by zombies.

I asked him what else he knew of the Sukuma. He said that Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania each had one tribe that was known for the strength of their magic and witchcraft. In Tanzania, it is the Sukuma people, and even the corresponding tribes in Kenya and Uganda can't compare to the Sukuma.

And this isn’t just the talk of old men in the forest. Major research seems to cast light on this issue. The Pew Trust recently released a report compiling research about the status of religion amongst all the nations of Africa.

The results were telling: Tanzania has the strongest incidence of traditional religion on the continent, as defined by the percentage of people that exhibit a majority of these traits:

…belief in reincarnation, witchcraft, evil spirits, the protective power of sacrifices to spirits or ancestors, juju or shrines, “evil eye” or curses, and the protective power of spiritual people as well as possession of traditional African sacred objects, participation in traditional ceremonies to honor ancestors, participation in traditional puberty rituals and use of religious healers.

The study found that 62% of Tanzanians have a strong belief in traditional religion, far exceeding the neighboring countries of Kenya (11%), Uganda (18%), and Rwanda (3%).

If the study focused on the Sukuma tribe, which comprises 15% of the Tanzanian population, the numbers would be much higher, perhaps over 80%.

This is not merely an issue of “religion”, as curses, witchcraft allegations, poison, albino kiilings, and constant fear all stem from this belief system, as does the pervasive suspicion and fatalism that binds this people.

Though Wilberforce was relieved to know that the Sukuma do not eat people, in a similar fashion the Sukuma religious system consumes the hopes, dreams, and future of millions of people.

Quicksand

2010-04-10T01:55:00.001-07:00

Quicksand
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Opening Day

2010-04-08T02:09:00.001-07:00

DSC_0287
Originally uploaded by lindermans

We celebrated opening day 2010 with an intense baseball game in our front yard with our teammates. Parents vs. Kids.

Final score: 6-1.

We were held to one run in the ninth inning by the defense of Matthew Guild (first unassisted double play in the history of MLB--Mwanza League Baseball) and the ace pitching of Trey Bailey.

The offense was too much for us, with Josiah's power hitting and Anna Guild's keen base running. Elijah, just called up from the rookie league to provide a left handed hitter, supplied two key singles and slid into every base at least once.

The highlight of the game may have been Rayna and Faith Bailey (unpictured) doing the wave from the grandstands.

All the parent's have subsequently been placed on the trading block.

half way home

2009-10-29T13:16:00.001-07:00

my ride home
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Here's my newest friends on the side of the road waiting for the minibus (daladala) to stop overheating. We stopped by a pond so that the driver and conductors could fetch water and pour into the radiator (located under the front seat).

It took a ride on the back of a bicycle, and three minibuses to get home, but I successfully reduced my carbon footprint.

I also understand a little more about dependency on God--and others--to meet my needs, as I did not have my car to get me home that day.

(Our car is fine, by the way--it was being used by our teammates who had to make a trip to Nairobi.)

2009-10-19T05:05:00.000-07:00

Lusiya's smile
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Lusiya and her husband Matayo are well known to anyone who has visited us in Sukumaland. Rarely will you find a better smile, a smile that is regularly displayed as she expresses remarkable hospitality.

Lusiya and Matayo are hosting a marriage seminar October 31st --November 1. It's a sign of worldview shift--that a voice like Lusiya's is worthy to be heard, and that men here would consider that they might have something to learn about marriage.

2009-10-19T04:57:00.001-07:00

5k starting line
Originally uploaded by lindermans

With just 5k to go, Jason, Eric, and I (and our American friends Dan and Dave) are just a stride behind some world class athletes.

Note new luxury hotel going up in the background, at the intersection of Posta and Kenyatta Roads.

2009-10-19T04:55:00.001-07:00

Elijah helping me get to the finish line
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Who doesn't need a little help from their kids to finish a race?

I felt pretty good about my 21 minute time, until my friend drove the course and found it was only 4km. Nothing is quite as advertised here.

2009-10-12T07:14:00.001-07:00

John sharing his testimony at our AIDS seminar
Originally uploaded by lindermans

We were blessed to have Dr. Bruce Smith and his wife Beth join us in July to teach an HIV/AIDS seminar. Amongst a select group of church leaders and their spouses, John Kasabuya was given the opportunity to share about his struggle with AIDS, and how he has regained health through ARV's.

John is a man of great determination and courage. He has, against great odds, traveled to many villages to open churches, speaking boldly news of hope in the context of spiritual oppression.

Now he has other words of hope to share--words that are impacting churches and families, as he encourages people to be tested, to seek medical care if they are infected, and challenges the church to respond with love and compassion, instead of fear and judgment.

Read more here:
http://hivinafrica.blogspot.com/2009/08/john-infected-and-affecting-others-for.html

Mama Faustini after baptism

2009-08-27T02:27:00.001-07:00

Mama Faustini after baptism
Originally uploaded by lindermans

This great woman hosted us for four months while we taught the basic Christian story at her home in Itagula. She and over a hundred others are now discovering a community of faith together.

How to fix a flat tire

2009-08-27T01:00:00.001-07:00

How to fix a flat tire
Originally uploaded by lindermans

It is easier when your 5 yr. old is willing to turn the little jack 8 million times to raise the Landcruiser up. And when your 3 yr. old really likes turning the lug nuts.

For the boys, a flat tire--like getting stuck in the mud--is not annoying at all. It's when the fun begins, and when the tools appear.

bujagali falls, Jinja, Uganda

2009-08-27T00:31:00.001-07:00

bujagali falls, Jinja, Uganda
Originally uploaded by lindermans

I'm sure I'm not the only father to have made this picture.

family at worship

2009-03-10T06:31:00.001-07:00

IMG_1035
Originally uploaded by lindermans

I am getting better at being my own photographer... with the left hand this time!!! Anyways, here's the family on an especially warm january day, worshipping with a group of churches (Kanda ya Nduha, for you Swahili nerds out there).

My teaching that day: Ephesians 6, the Armor of God--with special emphasis on the plural nature of the command, "Stand Firm".

peace

2 months

2009-02-04T21:15:00.001-08:00

2 months
Originally uploaded by lindermans

2008-11-25T10:07:00.000-08:00

Micah Isaiah Linderman

Some people jump out of airplanes. Others do Ironman triathlons, climb mountains, and master musical instruments.

But for our excitement, we have babies at home (It's great that I, Kevin, can use "we" there, isn't it?).

So, here's our third big boy born at home (first two were born in Vegas and Nashville, respectively). All 4.4 kg's of him, he was born in our Mwanza, Tanzania home the afternoon of November 24th. All are well, enjoying this new blessing to the family.

But, I think we need to start taking up mountain climbing now...

2008-11-22T06:25:00.000-08:00

still hanging in there! No baby yet... on the first of our due dates (ultrasound), nothing happening yet.

The other due date (based on the "wheel") suggested the 29th, so we shall see!

2008-11-18T02:48:00.000-08:00

waiting on baby...

we are 4 days off of our due date (or 10 days off a different due date), and making final preparations for baby.

The boys are excited, Dad is excited, and Mama is wondering why she still has to cook breakfast for the whole family when she should be on totally relaxing!

Thanks for all your prayers, and if the internet and electricity cooperate, we will post baby pictures ASAP (as soon as present).

2008-10-16T23:35:00.000-07:00

Catching everybody up...

--The family is back here in Mwanza. We have been here for one month now, following a great furlough!

--We have one month until our baby should join us. We are getting our home ready for the birth!

--We are changing vehicles: we are selling our 1 year old nissan doublecab to buy a 10 year old Landcruiser and a 20 yr old Landcruiser. With this baby, we had outgrown the truck, so the 20 yr. old Landcruiser will be the town car, useful for the family when I am away in the bush, and the newer Landcruiser will be my work vehicle.

More news to come...

2008-08-20T14:32:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the lack of blog attention...

check out this video put together by Wes and Amanda Gunn (with footage from Junior and Becky Bagwell)

Maybe we will blog again someday with exciting news...

camping in the serengeti

2008-04-21T10:35:00.001-07:00

camping in the serengeti
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Hey, if it isn't safe, they wouldn't let you do it, right?

That was our logic, at least. Josiah, however, had some reservations: "But what about the lions?" (not abstract... we spotted 5 about 200 yards from our campsite.) "Don't worry, the rangers will keep them away." "But what about the leopards? They could just drop into our tent from the trees."

So we "sorta" camped... at a campsite on the Grumeti River, full of crocodiles and hippos. We cooked, ate, and played outside, but slept in a little brick hut with lion-proof doors. And a leopard-proof tin roof.

Elijah was pretty scared of the hippo. He told us, "Hippo gonna knock my head off." And Josiah wasn't that impressed by the ranger presence (a hut off in the distance). "That's far. If a lion comes, what are they gonna do about it over there?"

Fun trip for the family (they did have lots of fun camping and seeing animals from the car, and enjoying hot cocoa under the african starscape.) Your welcome to join us next time!!!

hippo print

2008-04-21T10:21:00.001-07:00

hippo print
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Elijah slipped off his crocs, and tried on a hippo. This guy was sleeping adjacent to our campsite.

monkey thief

2008-04-21T10:19:00.001-07:00

monkey thief
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Carrying on a Linderman family tradition of having food stolen by wildlife, Elijah is scolding the monkey that stole his BLT sandwich.

morning lion

2008-04-21T10:16:00.001-07:00

morning lion
Originally uploaded by lindermans

the michelin toddler

2008-03-20T05:54:00.001-07:00

the michelin toddler
Originally uploaded by lindermans

It's a sad week, as we say goodbye to dear friends and mentors, the Rasmussen's. After over a decade of transforming ministry in Mwanza, the family is on the way to Nairobi, where Steve will teach at a seminary.

We had a going away party at a restaurant last Sunday night--obviously a bittersweet time. Our boys had a great time with dozens of other missionary kids. Here is Elijah swinging away!

2008-03-10T12:46:00.000-07:00

Wabeeja Shiliwa!

This is part of the traditional Sukuma "thank you for the food" song. About 200 visitors arrived in Ndang'wasa for the beginning of the church there, and everyone ate.

I've been rumored to jump into the dance line on occasion, but this time I just took a break from eating and enjoyed the dancing and singing, as the choir passed in front of the cooking hut. Enjoy... I sure did!

John, Mbatilo, and Matayo

2008-03-10T12:31:00.001-07:00

IMG_2690_2
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Mbatilo

2008-03-10T12:22:00.001-07:00

IMG_2691
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Mbatilo's wife

2008-03-10T12:20:00.001-07:00

IMG_2693
Originally uploaded by lindermans

2008-03-06T09:22:00.001-08:00

A medical question

My friend Mbatilo has a problem. His leg has been badly swollen for five years. He was treated, but the leg remains swollen, causing much pain. Return visits to doctors have not helped, and he has tried traditional medicine with no results.

This is a culture where the "why" of illnesses is more important than the "what". Anyone want to help me understand why his leg is like this? I doubt there is any treatment available for this here, but explaining to him why his leg is like this would help him greatly.

Any ideas?

Josiah's field trip

2008-03-06T04:01:00.001-08:00

IMG_0133
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Josiah's class went on a field trip... to the lakeshore. Miss Rose, Josiah's teacher, is the source of Josiah's occasional British accent. And yes, that is a SF Giant's hat on Josiah's head. Being here, Josiah has no idea how bad his dad's favorite team is!

First prayers

2008-03-03T13:17:00.001-08:00

IMG_2634
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Mundane yet beautiful. I have seen many extraordinary sights in my life (one of the many perks of being a missionary), but none so beautiful as these women from Ndang'wasa praying for the first time. Especially Susanna, the old woman on the right.

(still trying to learn to take pictures secretly from inside my bag... )

Football, Mwanza style

2008-03-03T13:03:00.001-08:00

IMG_2656
Originally uploaded by lindermans

By a simple process of elimination, I have become the head coach of the Isamilo School Football Developmental Club. "Kevin, you coach those little guys!"

While the older kids work on game skills, I work with Josiah, Elijah, and a handful of other kids on skills like: "dribble the ball, kick the ball, don't use your hands."

I hired a staff assistant to take pictures. Here's last week's superstar!

Road to Bariadi

2008-03-03T12:56:00.001-08:00

IMG_2590
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Sometimes the dry river bed isn't so dry!

Last weeks trip to bariadi took a little longer than we hoped. A couple months ago, I passed through this river. The canoe on the shore--not such a good sign.

Eric and I gauged our chances at about 50/50... But the upside of saving two hours of driving time by not driving to the nearest bridge didn't seem to outweigh the potential downside of parking our truck in the river until dry season (June).

More importantly, the seminar went well, and the three churches that participated are really starting to make a kingdom impact. Eric and I are coming back for another seminar in April... on this side of the river!

some new friends

2008-02-25T08:04:00.001-08:00

IMG_2573
Originally uploaded by lindermans

I was enjoying catching up on some blog reading yesterday, then I starting thinking about how fun it would be to start a blog. Some other guy had the address I wanted, and even though he never posts, he gets to keep mwanza.blogspot.com. Oh, wait, that's me!

Life is good for us here, our children are growing up like weeds, and we are slowly learning language and finding ways to be useful here. Slowly. Don't think Nascar yellow flag. Think glacier.

Will try to write more regularly, and post some pictures from Flickr. Here is a new friend, Mbatilo, and others in Ndang'wasa. 2 hours drive from electricity, but great cell phone reception, oddly enough. I've been working with some church leaders church planting in unchurched villages. I will tell Mbatilo's story next time.

Hopefully, if I am feeling better, and I can get through the rivers, I will see Mbatilo tomorrow. If he knew about the internet, he would want me to greet you!

2007-12-12T15:10:00.000-08:00

Arrival

we made it safely to the states. The boys did great on the flights--we soaked up compliments from people who saw how well our boys handled the two successive 8 hour flights.

Things were a little hard in Chicago... our flight was cancelled, so we spent a few hours bumping around the airport. I did manage to find a few people that actually looked worse than us.

ANYWAYS...

For some unexplanable reason, our children have decided that 3 am is wake up time. They are getting quality time with their papa and nana... even before they leave for work!

We have decided why so many people have accidents here. Driving is too boring. Perfect paved roads, no livestock or bicycle taxis. It's nearly impossible to keep out of the ditch.

OK, free travelers tips:

1) Lie about your age and request the British Airways child meal. As I am eating "sausage and mash" and "rice pudding supreme", Josiah is eating CHOCOLATE COVERED STRAWBERRIES!!! He had a whole bowl of chocolate covered fruit.

2) Nobody checks your bags for fluids when you have two kids with you.

3) Heathrow Terminal 4 has a hidden area called "quiet seating area". Its toward the end of the gate 1-6 corridor, and it has seats that are like recliners.

maybe we will make more discoveries on the flight back...

2007-12-06T12:25:00.000-08:00

traveling for the holidays...

Tomorrow we begin our first journey outside the continent of Africa since June 2006. We will layover in Nairobi for one day, then do the leave early Sunday morning to arrive in Nashville Sunday evening (9 hours difference makes this possible... we will be in transit for 27 hours).

We are all excited, and exhausted. Leaving Africa takes about as much energy as getting here. And we are all fighting colds, and Kevin got carted off to the police station in the middle of his last-minute errands (a minor mistake of an expired road license).

Apologies to everyone that we don't see... for obvious reasons, this three week safari is a family-only trip... but a longer trip is coming next year... and you are always welcome here in Mwanza!

Josiah's first Christmas play

2007-12-05T11:03:00.001-08:00

Josiah's first Christmas play
Originally uploaded by lindermans

Josiah and his class singing for the Christmas play

2007-12-05T11:00:00.001-08:00

Josiah and his class singing for the Christmas play
Originally uploaded by lindermans

2007-11-28T11:56:00.000-08:00

Truck bed.

In america, missionary means poor. In Tanzania, it means rich. It is an identity struggle all missionaries deal with.

We prayed recently for our truck to be an asset to our neighbors and friends. Since then, we have had the opportunity to:

-Haul a few trips of sand from our house (aka sandpit) to a house site being built by one of our old neighbors on a rocky hillside.

-Haul gravel back from this friend's house to ours (men, women, and children hammer away at rocks all day to make gravel).

-Carry five bicycles and their owners home from a leaders meeting (jason did the driving)

-Help a family kicked out of their house by a greedy landlord by moving all their stuff. Including 20 ducks in the backseat.

-note: never move ducks inside your truck. When the truck starts moving, the ducks go crazy, and expel all bodily fluids in some sort of survival mechanism.

-Drive various friends and their families to the hospital. We can get our truck places taxicabs don't go.

It is encouraging, because much of your time spent as a missionary is seemingly unproductive (though sometimes it is productive relationally), and our assets (a car, accessibility to health care, a secure home) often separate us from others. It is nice to see our assets place us in closer community with others.

2007-11-28T11:47:00.000-08:00

The God's must be crazy.

So everything is pretty much the same in Mwanza as when we arrived in 2006. The airport got a baggage scanning machine. We got a new ATM machine. And a few new speedbumps.

Well, we are back online, and apparently, things in the rest of the world aren't so static. I went to check people's blogs, and noone has updated since 2006. Internet problems? doubtful. Then I keep hearing something about facebook.

So I signed up, and found out that noone blogs anymore, instead they write on people's walls. OK.

More useful to us is Skype, which I finally successfully downloaded last week. Free international calling will be great!

But, since I am wearing the exact same clothing that I wore in 2005, I am going to stick to the blog thing for a few more years.

2007-11-23T20:16:00.000-08:00

read this article for an insight into life here:

Tanzania: It Was Hard Enough, Now Authorities Want Their Carts

fyi: the story refers to a salary of 2000 shillings, which is a little under $2.

feeding giraffes

2007-11-21T10:52:00.001-08:00

feeding giraffes
Originally uploaded by lindermans

2007-11-20T09:18:00.000-08:00

since we last spoke...

the last post, back in September, was filled with excitement over our new internet connection.

Then it rained. And it seems to now work about one hour a week.

So what have we been up to?

-Josiah has started school. It is a British school, and his classmates are Tanzanians, Indians, and a couple Germans. He is picking up a British accent, and helping translate for some other students that only speak Swahili. He loves school, and dreads weekends.

-We have plane tickets for a Christmas visit to America. It's been about 18 months since we have felt a temperature below 70, but we are looking forward to our trip!

-The Zeanah's came to visit us! They came and blessed us, served us, encouraged us, and reinforced our southern accents.

-our puppy Cade had 10 puppies. Waiting for paternity test results from the neighborhood strays. Elijah carries them by their tails.

-Our team hosted a group from Harding University, mostly pre-health/nursing majors completing a semester in Zambia. It was fun being with some in the village, translating for them as they taught useful health tips such as making your own Oral Rehydration Solution.

-Ramadan came and went. I was sad that we weren't invited to any of the feasts of Eid, the end of Ramadan. But afterwards, when I asked my Muslim friend Rajab about his Eid, he said, "it was good, except that I didn't invite you." He said that he would invite me to the next feast, and since he is also our plumber, there is a good chance that I will see him before then.

-Our family took a vacation... to Shinyanga? While this dusty town has about the vacation appeal of Winslow Arizona, we went to spend some time with a missionary who is working with various ministries related to HIV/Aids and orphans. We stayed in her home with some once-abandoned children, and lended some helping hands for a food distribution. Josiah and Elijah made some new friends, and Charity and I have a new hero.

-We are improving in our Swahili, and Kevin has started studying Kisukuma. By the time we get to America, we will be so confused that we will have forgotten English!

enjoy the pictures!

2007-09-07T01:28:00.000-07:00

back online...

after enduring a couple dead computers, a long electricity drought, and a month of pleading with a reluctant telephone company, we have INTERNET.

So, here is a picture of our house. We wil put more pictures in days to come.

2007-08-28T00:19:00.000-07:00

Loss

Whistles blow regularly here. It is the community method to announce a death—a person is appointed to walk through the neighborhood, blowing a loud whistle, then yelling the name of the person who died and when the funeral will happen. Many people will meet this person on the path, and give money towards the funeral.

The longer you live here, the more personal these announcements become. A repairman who worked on your house. A neighbor. A friend’s child.

This week, however, it was news from home. David has been part of our lives for about 6 years. Though they chose to not get married, my mother and he functioned as though they were, and they had planned to grow old and retire together. They were inseparable.

Cancer, however, blunted that reality. The prognosis looked good, and the cancer seemed manageable, until the cancer unexpectedly roared back, taking over the liver, and shutting down his body before the doctors discovered that the presenting issue—pneumonia—was actually a symptom that was drawing attention away from the core issue. By the time they knew, it was too late.

We had been sending text messages back and forth with my sister as events unfolded, and finally got the phone call 3 am Friday morning. My sister tearfully reported that David had just passed away.

I had begun making travel plans when my sister conveyed my mom’s preference that I instead wait and maybe I, along with Charity and the boys, could come for Christmas, when losses are most deeply felt. We hope to honor her wishes by doing so.

David Hunter was a good man with a tender heart, an amazing cook, an avid reader, a lover of sports (especially tennis, F1 car racing, and women’s hoops), playful with children (Josiah has lot’s of great memories of him), servant-hearted, and always a joy to be around—assuming he had had his coffee or chocolate.

He is greatly missed.

2007-08-10T06:00:00.000-07:00

Birthday gift of faith

Josiah already knew too much. We had interrupted his birthday dinner in town after receiving a frightful message from Uwezo, our gardener. His two-year old daughter was missing.

The sun was setting, and Uwezo, like ¾’s of the population here, lives on a rocky hillside, surrounded by cliffs that become even more dangerous in the night. There are no phone lines, no water pipes, and most critically, no electricity to illuminate the countless paths that traverse the rocky landscape. The neighborhood had been searching for two hours in daylight with no success.

On the way to drop the family off at home, Josiah peppered us with questions that we could not answer. But, finally relenting from his questions, our young theologian instead began offering his words of hope from the back seat:

“God can see Teresia. We can’t see God, but he can see all of us. He will take care of her.”

Charity’s heart and mine sank even lower. We both wanted to cry—while we affirmed everything Josiah said—“he is taking care of her.”—we feared and were preparing for the worst. And how would we explain this to our four-year old?

Thankfully, when I was on my way to try to help, Uwezo called me with the good news we had been praying for. Teresia was found, a couple miles from home. I drove to find Uwezo’s father, to share the good news, Then I returned home to catch the end of the ad-libbed birthday meal—hot dogs, carrots, and brownies—and share the good news with everyone, especially Josiah.

Josiah will learn—as we all have—that things do not always turn out so well. But we also need to learn—in spite of past hurts and hardships—that God is watching, and listening to our every prayer.

A child saved, a child’s faith preserved. Childlike faith rediscovered again.

Another unrelated theological observation from Josiah: God keeps scabs in a drawer. All sizes. He looks to see what size you need, then he gets one out, and gives it to Jesus to put on.

2007-08-09T03:07:00.000-07:00

Umeme!!!

(Kiswahili for electricity!)

On a day when I was returning from town, wishing that I lived anywhere else on earth than Tanzania, I pulled up to find three workers installing a power meter at our house.

I tried to play it cool—“it’s about time you guys came!”, but went into a hidden part of the house and danced a jig. It’s been 11 months since we applied, and over two months since we moved in, and finally, we have power!

Well… it didn’t work, of course. We had to wait an extra day for an electrician to come and get it to actually work. But we actually go out and look at the meter, admire the numbers—pitiful, but true.

This is a new kind of meter, a prepaid meter. We buy units, enter a code onto a keypad, then get that much electricity until the meter cuts the electricity off. No meter reader necessary (one position that is prone to corruption here), no unpaid power bills bankrupting the power utility.

Hopefully, the power company will have us in their system soon: we have been trying to buy more units (the meter came with 50kWh as a starter), but have not yet been able to. So, we may be in the dark again sometime soon.

We are retraining ourselves. Initially, we would walk around at night in the dark, looking for and using a flashlight, until one of us would get the bright idea to flip a light switch.

Seriously, we feel much more secure now that we can run some exterior lights at night, safer without kerosene lanterns burning, cleaner as we aren’t pouring kerosene into lamps and petrol into a generator all the time, plus more regular hot showers. The virtues of Umeme!

2007-07-27T07:31:00.000-07:00

other items of interest:

we moved into our house in the middle of June. What a relief! Finally, we are unpacking bags!

Unfortunately, we are still waiting for electricity. Very frustrating. I've been in every office at the power company, pushing, complaining, begging, crying. But, it looks like we are getting closer: they brought the overhead wires to the house today, and they say that next week they will bring the meter, electrifying our house. We are cautiously optimistic, but it was good to see the Tanesco truck at our house.

We have enjoyed visitors, first Wes, Amanda, and Taylor Gunn in June, then Charity's parents in July. The boys have been spoiled (the good kind of spoiled) by friends and "papa and nana". And we spoiled ourselves with a two day trip to zanzibar (tanzania's beautiful island!) with Charity's parents. Beaches of pure white sands were great, but even better was being on a beach with permission to publicly hold hands with my wife (not culturally appropriate around Mwanza).

One of the areas we have been working, Busami, is about half an hour from the Serengeti, so we took our visitors to see some of our work, then took a day trip to see the great wildebeest migration. Our guests enjoyed the animals; I enjoyed driving on roads without bicycles, goats, and police checkpoints (of course, wildebeest, antelopes, giraffe, zebra, and other animals are on the road, but the presence of lions keeps their instincts--and escape skills honed. They get out of the way!)

now, trying to get settled into life and ministry after a summer of events and travels. Thanks for stopping by.

2007-07-21T01:53:00.000-07:00

Traveling days...

As we still don't have electricity in our house, our e-mailing and blogging continues to suffer. But enabled by a guesthouse in Nairobi with internet access and Kenyan coffee, heres a ten minute update...

just returning from a missionary conference in Watamu Kenya. Missionaries from 6 countries and some church leaders in America got together for a rich time of fellowship. We are filled with fresh ideas, renewed focus, and eagerness to visit and see our new friends in their places of service!

We also have been blessed with visitors, our missions minister and family, Wes, Amanda, and Taylor Gunn, as well as Charity's parents. Thankfully, neither friend nor family pulled us off the field. They see our struggles, but their faith in us, and more importantly, their faith in God, is a real encouragement to us.

Some people have been asking about our ministry in Busami, a small village in the Naasa chiefdom. Since we have been visiting, we have seen a new community begin to form there. We helped some hopeful people start a church community in a place where there was not yet one. 53 people chose to become Christians there, beginning a journey characterized by hope, faith, and grace... not the traditional elements of Sukuma culture that they are used to. The hard work is ahead, but we were blessed to see light break into a dark place.

One man touched our hearts. An old man. Probably 70 years old, the last man in the water hole to be baptized. He had chosen a new name to correspond to his new life, but was not yet responding to his new name. finally, he came, ready to start a new life at an old age. A sweet man walking through water for the first time.

time is up. love you all, and thank you for your continued encouragement!

2007-05-22T00:46:00.000-07:00

closer...

we are about a week away from finishing construction. After some serious cleaning, and extermination, maybe we can, for the first time in over a year, unpack our suitcases.

We were sad that some of our visitors had to postpone their trip to Mwanza. But we have others coming in a couple weeks. Hopefully, Mungu Akipenda (if God wills), they will be staying in our new house.

Had fun the other day with a young Maasai warrior. We were walking down a road, and he was teaching me Kimaa greetings, when we started hearing loud popping noises and sparks started falling all around us. The universal instinct to run hit us both, and we ran together from the power line above us. Of course, there was no real danger, but I can boast that I kept up stride for stride with a man whose genes predispose him to hunting lions... for about 30 yards.

one day, when we get our computer fixed, and when they replace the phone cable stolen from our neighborhood, we will be able to post some pictures. Until then, only blurbs from the internet cafe. Thanks for coming by!

2007-05-09T04:31:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the M-log (monthly log!)

on a friends computer, so time for a few brief updates:

Computer: We are sending it home (America, not China) for repairs. It will return in June. It's getting a new hard drive, and, hopefully, they will be able to get the data off the dead hard drive (just a bunch of 0's and 1's, but they make up all of our pictures since arriving here, most of Elijah's life!)

Housing: We are painting right now, finishing the kitchen cabinets and counter tops, and finishing a few windows. We will start buying doors this week (would be easier if the sizes were regular, and the door frames were square!), and hopefully, by the end of May, we will be in the house. Those of you who know me can envision me as a construction foreman about as easily as picturing Charity with a New York accent. So we all will be happy to have the construction behind us.

VISITORS!!!
The Zeanah's from Montgomery Alabama are visiting us next week, followed by the Wes and Amanda Gunn next month, then finally Charity's parents in July. Josiah just starts jumping up and down when we talk about it; if we get on the road towards the airport, he thinks were going to pick up people!

Village work:
Since our last blog, I have been able to form some relationships in a village named Busami in the Nassa Chiefdom of Sukumaland. It is hard to form relationships when you are simply a language learner, but it appears like some good things may be on the horizon there. Will keep you posted.

Elephants:
We had a weekend getaway with the boys. Drove them to the Serengeti, so we could see their reaction to finding Giraffe, Zebra, Crocodiles, Wildebeest, and best of all, Elephants. When you drive your car towards Giraffe, they run beautifully, something you won't see in a zoo. But when you drive towards a bull Elephant, they don't feel quite so threatened.

Thank you to all who stop by and encourage us with your comments! The lindermans

2007-03-30T05:45:00.000-07:00

All is well...

In spite of computer failure, we are doing well (and after a little research, it seems like the toshiba hard drive may deserve the blame, instead of the continent of Africa, as previously suggested).

Last weekend was fun, as we went out to some villages... Kevin taught a little in Swahili (little is the key word). More remarkably, a church insisted that Charity offer a prayer. Making her sit in the front of the church is bad enough, but forcing Charity to speak before a crowd... impressive.

Kevin is returning to take a couple church leaders to a distant village, where people have brought a letter asking for help in starting a church in their village. I will try to add a little to my teaching for this next weekend. Or at least work on my bad driving.

On that note, I have been driving infraction free for a couple weeks. Not Charity, though, who has been admonished by police to cease driving without a competent driver. Ironic, as she is the only competent driver in our family here.

Gotta run... on our way to a missionary fellowship tonight with 20 or so of our closest friends serving in various ministries around Mwanza. They hear our present stories, and laugh, because they have been through it all themselves. One day we will do the same.

2007-03-15T07:57:00.000-07:00

things fall apart...

or break, at least. Last causality: our beloved powerbook g4. Things started going bad when we took it with us on a cross country trip in December. Now, it refuses to start up... fatal hard drive error.

We have lost all of our emails, and our pictures for the last year, until we disassemble the computer and pull out the hard drive.

We were already behind on e-mails... sorry if you are awaiting a reply... the only email addresses we have are those that have sent us an e-mail in the past week. so forgive us, please, until we get our technology in order.

Otherwise, all is well here in TZ, but our blog will likely be silence, except for some quick messages from teammates computers or internet cafes.

2007-03-03T11:25:00.000-08:00

March Madness

The week started with one of our teammates being illegally evicted from their rental house by the city council (the house was a city government house until a few years ago, when it was sold to a Tanzanian citizen). About 30 city guards, plus the fire department with jaws of life to cut through locks and bars, and a lorry truck, arrived early in the morning, with no warning, to clear all the contents out of the house. Lovely.

Since our affected coworkers were in route to nairobi, and out of cell phone range, the rest of us had our work cut out for us, as we tried to keep the guards occupied with "safe" jobs while we ransacked the place looking for valuables and safeguarding fragile items. We also tore out anything valuable we could, like the kitchen cabinets.

The week ended with a couple teammates jumping into a frenzied mob beating and preparing to stone a 12 year old boy (who had stolen around $5) to death. Literally. Common treatment for a defenseless thief. Thankfully, the prayers of the nearby wives were effective, and the crowd set aside their stones, and returned home with their mallots.

(photo of a cast aside stone)

This is not a normal week here, but there is no normal week here.

On a more positive note, the first friday of the month is a highlight for us here. The larger missionary community, working in diverse ways including orphanages, bible translation work, rural development, theological training, etc. gathers for fellowship, worship, and prayer.

If you haven't noticed, there are a lot of broken things here. It is refreshing to be part of something that represents what is being restored.

2007-02-25T21:47:00.000-08:00

UPDATE:

four more traffic violations on Friday.

This is not usual, but public school tuition is due next week, and everyone is looking for a way to find a little extra money.

2007-02-22T21:35:00.000-08:00

some pictures of the week:

Took a picture of our teammate Eric teaching a leadership seminar over the Old Testament. The batteries in the camera went dead, so I bought another pair at a nearby shop. The local batteries lasted for one picture. Here it is:

Here is a no parking sign I found in town the other day. While it looks like an advertisement for chai, if you read carefully, you find hidden between the phrase "the chai that is loved for many years" and the company logo is a notice stating the busses stop here.

If you are a careless missionary, going to the twentieth store to buy the last of the 10 construction items needed for the day, you return and find your tire surrounded by a steel contraption with barbs to destroy your tire if you move it. (low quality camera phone images taken while making a big scene about the deceptiveness of the sign, to everyone's delight!)

Thankfully, everything is negotiable here, so I talked the fine down to half price (from $40 to $20). I have had more traffic violations here already than in my entire life in America. Josiah doesn't let me forget the infractions, either.

Other news: We bought a washing machine to replace our broken, unrepairable washer, which has been out of service since Christmas. The new one had to come from the port city, Dar Es Salaam. But the delivery truck got stolen.... So we wait a little longer.

The puppy has a name: Cade. Thanks for the many good suggestions, but we decided to go with a name linked to a favorite location of ours.

We have mostly finished putting in the electrical wiring in the house. And I am on my way to town to continue buying needed plumbing materials. Maybe we should have done the plumbing earlier... we have had water at this house for months, but the electric company seems to be lacking certain items like power meters and wires. They say they are out for a couple months. But what we have learned (and why we have installed an inground water storage tank) is that electricity is a luxury, while water is a necessity.

More later....

2007-02-19T11:37:00.000-08:00

Reasons to build a house in Africa:

Okay, here is the flip side to my housing complaints of last week.

We live in a city of about one million people, most of whom are squatters. They live in simple houses built on hillsides, some with mud walls and grass roofs, just like the village, but increasingly they have brick walls with a tin roof. There is no running water on the hillsides, horrible sewage/drainage, multiple families per house, with little security.

People with good jobs, like government employees, business people, school teachers, are able to buy surveyed plots (plots of land that are officially deemed habitable) from the government, and often slowly build a house, as their income allows. When (if) they finish, they usually rent the home for income, because by the time they finish, they are at retirement age.

Most of these houses remain unfinished, though sometimes overcrowded with residents that don’t mind not having windows or doors. And since there is a high demand right now (mining and industry is booming here!), the rent for houses is high (we have had people offer us a house at $1000/month, with a straight face… but someone will come and pay this rent!).

But these houses have a bigger problem than rent prices. In town here, instant opulence is favored over reliable quality. So, a house has fancy (usually gaudy) tile all over the place, ornate light fixtures, eye-catching paint colors, intricate iron gates and fences… and second rate plumbing, defective wiring, compromised walls and windows.

So, by building a house, we accomplish a few things: One, we get to pick out the wiring, plumbing, etc. We get to build a water storage tank so that we have consistent water. We get to avoid opulence in favor of functionality. We design a house that, hopefully, both guests from the village and guests from the states will find comfortable.

Once we are finished, we invite you to come and visit. Or, if you are handy with tools, we invite you to come now!

Karibu!

New puppy

2007-02-16T11:58:00.001-08:00

IMG_1946
Originally uploaded by lindermans.

Here's a picture of our new puppy. 10 weeks old. She's a gift from a friend, and the boys love her.

But what should we name her?

2007-02-15T04:10:00.000-08:00

What not to do in Africa:

Build a house.

At least this is how we feel much of the time. Materials are way too expensive, workers are way too unreliable, theft is endemic, and (thus) progress is slow.

Oh, the days of Home Depot, Lowe's, and McCoys. Mwanza has probably 500 tool stores. Most have about $100 worth of incentory, but the bigger ones have a fairly decent selection, but quantities are limited. And you don't browse around, you ask the person working if something is available. That person also determines the price (no price tags).

So, if I have twenty things to buy, 15 I find fairly easily. The other 5 take all day. "Yeah, we have that... we'll get it for you". 15 minutes later they come back with the wrong thing. "yeah, but it's just as good". When are you getting it? "tomorrow."

Since there are no phone books, no supplier warehouse nearby, no inventory control systems, you don't know when something will come available. So shopping around is taking a risk; you may have found the only one available, and someone else may buy it while you are looking around for prices.

There are no bulk discounts, as everything has already passed through countless middle men. There is no returning defective items. Quality is low.

The highlight of my day yesterday was successfully identifying imitation wiring. I told a salesman I needed MCL wire, and he returned, with wire labeled as such, but it didn't seem right... I confirmed it later, it was fake.

However, we are learning--the hard way. It is a bonding experience that we share with many others here, tanzanian and expats alike. And sometimes, it can be fun, especially when Josiah is over at the house, grabbing tools and working away.

++++++++++
update:
We are doing all the electrical work now. Chiseling into cement walls to place conduits for the wiring, switches, etc.

Hiring a plumber to put in bathtubs, sinks, toilets, put in pipes, and finish the sewage/drainage system.

Always looking for carpenters. The windows are wood, and we can't seem to find a good carpenter who will stay and work.

2007-01-29T03:19:00.000-08:00

A month in a glimpse:

Christmas: we missed getting to be with family… hardly seems like Christmas without being either with family in California or Tennessee. The hot weather confuses things a bit too. But the good thing was the opportunity to completely avoid shopping madness, to have a Christmas not cluttered with stuff; just a few meaningful gifts were enough.

Josiah’s favorite: Tool box with trowel and float block.

Elijah’s favorite: A plastic cow.

Charity’s favorite: baking sheets that actually fit in our tiny oven (the ones we brought don’t).

My favorite: A french press coffee pot (no power, no problem…)

While our holiday wasn’t dominated by stuff (some is still lost in the postal system here), we did have a holiday blessed with deepened friendships, both with Tanzanians who we visited, as well as those who came to visit us. We also enjoyed a Christmas meal with our wonderful teammates, plus an “explosive” new year’s party with a larger fellowship of missionaries (Josiah played until 1:30 with some new friends, as we blew up every Chinese firework we could find!)

Other highlights and lowlights:

The power is (mostly) back on here. The power situation here remains a great mystery, producing no shortage of conspiracy theories.

A tornado came through town a couple weeks ago. Waterspouts are common on the lake, but this one moved inland, displacing a couple thousand people, and killing several. The same storm brought large hail that battered Josiah’s corn stalks… Josiah worried about his corn, I worried about the truck. Both survived.

I can teach a little bit in Swahili. This exercise helps me build language skills, and fosters humility as well.

We had two birthdays… Elijah’s in December and Charity’s this past week.

Mwanza is having a problem with crocodilescrocodiles.

And the next time we build a house in Africa, we will know what we are doing.

More later…

2007-01-24T02:57:00.000-08:00

alive and well

sorry for the lack of contact. Having big problems with internet these days, and something is wrong with our wireless card, so our back-up plan of visiting our teammate's house and borrowing their wireless signal has failed.

At this present moment, the internet is working. So, we will get busy returning e-mails this evening. Until then, rest assured that all is well here.

Kevin

Elijah's new transit

2006-12-27T09:29:00.000-08:00

IMG_1669
Originally uploaded by lindermans.

Josiah's Christmas gift...

2006-12-26T06:26:00.000-08:00

IMG_1619
Originally uploaded by lindermans.

a new car!

2006-12-22T05:23:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas!

Sorry for the blog silence... having computer problems, so we haven't had internet access for about a week... so sitting in a computer lab in town sending a brief Christmas blessing to all.

It is refreshing being away from some of the American Christmas trappings. After all, there are no malls in Tanzania! So our Christmas is a little more calm, more reflective, less commercial. If only you could be here to share it with us!

We do have a Christmas tree, with some lights that work when we have electricity. We have some Christmas songs on the iPod. And while the weather is warm, there may be some cookies in the forecast.

Merry Christmas!
the lindermans

2006-12-12T02:57:00.000-08:00

From the highest of heights to the depths of the sea…

Actually, we got the order backwards.

Since arriving, we have learned that our original plan, not having a vehicle of our own, was untenable. Our burden for working in far-off villages has grown, and a 4x4 vehicle is needed to get to most places, especially in the rainy season. Our sponsoring church has been wonderful, helping us pull together every last available penny, and 100x missions, based in Montgomery, has generously contributed as well.

Buying a car here is different from the states. After a two-month process of paperwork, waiting, paperwork, research, paperwork, waiting, we got the news that our truck was soon to be ready in Dar es Salaam, the capital city. We made some quick plans, and flew to Dar on Thursday, arriving minutes after the vehicle registration and plates were completed.

So we got to spend a day on the beach on the Indian ocean, got to eat at Subway restaurant (first American restaurant in TZ). Saturday morning we began with a boat trip to a little island just off the coast, followed by a long drive to Moshi, at the base of Kilimanjaro. Long drive in a day, interrupted by one bathroom stop and one speeding ticket (really surprised to see the radar gun pointed at us).

So we began at the ocean, looking at tropical fish, drove alongside the Usumbara and Pare mountains, sheer green cliffs draped with clouds, with the Masai steppe on our western flank, acacia trees as far as the eye could see. Finally, above the clouds, we found Kilimanjaro, the most beautiful mountain in the world, its peak covered in snow, catching the last hours of sunlight of the African dusk.

Add Chris Tomlin on the iPod, and some leftover Subway sandwiches, and you can see that all of our senses were blessed (except for our nose; Josiah found the speed bumps undesirable at 100K, and christened the vehicle in his own special way).

We are here in the mountains this week for a team retreat with some resource professionals from the Seminary where many of us trained. Mission work can be grueling, and we are all looking forward to being ministered to for a few days.

But as you can tell, in addition to the spiritual blessings, we get to have family experiences most can only dream of.

Plus bargain-priced speeding tickets.

2006-11-20T03:16:00.000-08:00

Hospital Beds and Blue Cards

There is an effect in movies in which the camera moves from a small shot to give a glimpse of the larger picture, like in Gone with the Wind, when the camera moves from one hospital cot to several to many until all you see is white specks across the landscape. I experienced this effect last week, but instead of white cots, I was overwhelmed by blue cards. I will explain…

I returned to visit John, and was surprised to find a large crowd around his bed, one of the twelve beds in the C6 ward, on the sixth floor of the hospital tower. Visiting hours brings crowds of people to hospital rooms here, but John’s family lives a far distance away, so I was surprised by the number around his bed.

I was more surprised when I realized that it was not John that they were visiting, but a patient with a large head wound, in John’s bed—with him! Numerous other beds in the room were double booked as well.

After speaking with John and the charge nurse (in charge of the one other nurse on the hall of 70 or so patients), it became clear that the best course of action was to take John from the hospital, and bring him to the AIDS clinic on the third floor, which had already closed for the day (the problem with his leg was an effect of HIV). We hoped to take him home that evening, but after a couple hours of trying to locate his file (and being a general nuisance to everyone who worked in the hospital), it became obvious that I could not take him from the hospital until morning. I was as mad as could be, but didn’t know who to be mad at. I was confronted by a sin that is impersonal, a sin of inequality in this world that we live in, where pets can get health insurance in California, but Tanzanians can’t get their own hospital bed.

Anger is an easier emotion to hide than sadness. Returning to tell John that he would be stuck in the hospital another night, I felt the need to pretend like everything was alright, hiding the outrage that was largely borne out of my experience of something different, something much better, experiences unknown to people here. While I felt powerless, I hated saying goodbye to one feeling helpless.

I decided to rely upon the one resource I had left; the power of nuisance. I told the charge nurse that I was not able to leave until John had his own bed. It may not have worked for a Tanzanian, but I considered it a small victory that after a few hours in the hospital, John again had a bed of his own.

When I returned in the morning to settle his account, John gave me his blue card. This card is issued by the government to HIV patients, and helps to track their disease, their CD4 count, and their medications. The card also covers the cost of medical expenses; I saw that John was charged for the last night in the hospital, and I prepared to mount a grand resistance against this expense, only to find out that all the expenses were covered by his blue card.

On to the AIDS clinic (which has no sign), me and my friend, with three functioning legs between us. Here, there were a hundred or more people, each holding blue cards, present for their monthly blood check and medicine supply. These are the segment of the population that has overcome stigma and have been tested and have accepted the help available to them.

I was captivated and overwhelmed by the rooms full of people, by the doctors lined up behind tables consulting patients in rapid succession, by the assembly line blood testing center. And I couldn’t help but notice all of the blue cards, cards that would disappear again once the patients left the hospital, only to surface again the next month, the one obvious indicator of a disease that attacks in so many ways. Each person has their own story, their own complicated situation that contributed to contracting the disease.

Nursing mothers. Old men. Children. Prisoners. Older women. Professional looking people, people who are desperately poor. A demographic that shatters presuppositions, the only common factor being their common fate, and the blue card that no one wants to have.

More later on John and his family…

2006-11-14T19:42:00.000-08:00

Be imitators of God

I leaned over to hear my friend’s words, words that took great energy to speak, as my friend lay ill in the hospital bed, words that took great effort for me to hear, as the other 11 patients in the small room all had numerous visitors. I got even closer, squatted down in the small gap between the bed and the wall, as he repeated the words of the missionary Paul: “Be imitators of God”.

We are in the middle of many adjustments here in Tanzania; it is as though we are having to relearn how to live. Water is different (not drinkable out of the tap, and sometimes not available from the tap). Shopping is harder. Cooking a simple meal can take several hours. Driving here (town and bush) requires complete attention and focus. And I have already disclosed the power situation.

Perhaps the biggest challenge is the loss of control we are experiencing. In America, many things aren’t as they should be, but if something is wrong, there is somebody to call, a change to be made, a complaint to be filed. And when things do not go as planned in America, our schedules and plans may be delayed, but here, our schedules and plans are often soundly defeated by the chaotic nature of Tanzanian life.

As was the case this weekend. John, a church leader here, sent word through a family member to our friend, Urbano, that his leg was in such pain he could not even walk, and he had been confined to bed for a week. Urbano borrowed a cell phone (in his village without electricity or phone lines) and called me, begging for help.

This weekend I was planning on going to a leadership training meeting, a meeting to work through issues of conflict resolution, grace vs. legalism, what it means to be a church, etc.. I wanted to be there, wanted to contribute my opinions, wanted to spend this time with the other missionaries and the leaders emerging in the church movement here. But my plans had to change.

Helping people here rarely requires great financial sacrifice, but usually requires a great amount of time. Getting John to the hospital consumed two days of time, lots of driving, getting lost in people’s cassava fields, lots of waiting. This began on Friday. It is now Wednesday, and the hospital still hasn’t examined John (the hospital is running on generators, so diagnostic tests like X-rays are greatly hindered). So I return daily, checking on him, bringing food and drink, despising the hospital, but enjoying John’s company.

John is in an advanced stage of AIDS, so it is hard to know what is going on. This could be a simple leg injury, or it could be one of the myriad ways in which HIV cripples and kills people here. So his words are even more significant, even more reflective, almost prophetic.

I squatted down at his side out of convenience, lowering myself to hear his words. “Be imitators of God,” he repeated. I yearned to hear his words, his stories, and his heart, and I found great personal clarity. I am called to imitate a God who chooses love over control, who defines greatness by service, and who humbles himself, not out of convenience or necessity, but as an outflow of his endless compassion.

Be imitators of God. A scripture now impossible to forget.

2006-11-01T05:21:00.000-08:00

Odds and Ends:

--We have had a few people write about our friend Ruth. She is doing well, recovering from her surgery. We have been able to provide for her medicine, and will do our best to make sure that she is able to continue to receive this medicine. Thank you for all who have offered to help; you have encouraged us greatly!!!

--We are completely confused about the power situation here. Apparently, the hydroelectric dams have ceased operating, and for a short while we were cut off from the national power grid, but an airplane landed in the capital city with phony electrical generators, and our power is back to how it has been; the lights come on at 7:00 pm, and turn off around 6 am.

--Unfortunately, the water situation here is degrading too. The lake level has dropped below the main intake for the city water supply. So our part of town has water during the night time hours only… thankfully, our water tank gets us through, and we don’t do baths or laundry during the day anyways, because of earlier mentioned power situation.

--The mangoes are back in season, and the pineapple. This makes us happy.

--Our housing project has us missing Home Depot.

--We are still learning language, trying to catch up to Josiah, who is getting proficient at telling people what to do in Swahili. I think he aspires to do this in every language.

--While eating out at the nicest restaurant in town ($5 a plate), we overheard a wedding reception next door. The DJ was playing such wedding favorites as Phil Collins “Another Day in Paradise” and Wham’s “Guilty Feet”. Almost as funny as my barber singing along to the Indian version of “Karma Chameleon”.

--I was delayed going to language class the other day when the sliding door fell off the minibus I was waiting to board. This is an acceptable excuse here.

--Killed two snakes last week. And a thousand-watt transformer.

--Myth-buster: while some things are cheaper here, most things are actually more expensive, especially when you have to replace everything because it is low quality and breaks easily. A cold coke for a quarter, however, does make a stifling hot day a little nicer.

--Good news: We have moved into a short-term house down the street from our housing project, so we now have room for the boxes and items we shipped from America. I am enjoying getting my books back (coffee and a good book helps with culture stress!) and Charity is unpacking her kitchen stuff. Josiah has his tools. And Elijah has cardboard to chew on, unless he is…

--walking! Taking four or five steps. Then he dances away. Especially if he sees a banana, which are always in season here!

2006-10-18T06:39:00.000-07:00

confused...

power has been on today. First time in a couple months we have seen daytime power. We are all worried about what this means.

One of the hardest parts of living here is learning to be a good parent while being a good missionary. Lately, I feel like I have been better at being a missionary than a parent. Yesterday was the first free day our family has had in a couple months, so we decided to have a Josiah day: Ferry boat ride, ice cream, all the fun stuff, all day, until my evening language class. So we pack up, and...

a visitor arrives at the house.

When a visitor arrives, you host them. You have no idea how long they have travelled to arrive, so you can't run out the door. Visitors are always more important than anything else.

Especially when the visitor, a dear man, has just learned that he has AIDS. I struggled to console the man in Swahili, shared tea, fruit, and stories with this man, and offered a meager prayer. Language sometimes isn't the biggest barrier. Sometimes no words are adequate.

Then, our friend Urbano arrived. We offered hospitality to him, but also chose to preserve at least half the day for Josiah. So we cut our visit short, helped him on his way back home, then off to the ferry boat.

While we weren't the best missionaries, acting in completely illogical ways (who would take the ferry boat just to reboard for the return trip), Josiah's excitement was impossible to contain.

The words of Randy Harris ring in our ears: there is only one savior, and he is not me. Hard to remember that sometimes.

My language teacher said something similar in class: "Yani, do you expect to learn a language that took two thousand years to form in two weeks time?" So, we are learning patience, balancing priorities, and trying to keep things in perspective. And enjoying seeing our son skip down the road to catch the ferry boat to nowhere.

2006-10-13T12:33:00.000-07:00

Hamna shida

(Swahili for “no problem”)

No need for alarm regarding the whole power situation here. These past few months have taught us that we don’t need power as much as we think. You can wash clothes by hand, use lanterns at night, sponge-bath with water warmed over a propane stove, buy fresh food daily, and allow the sounds of your children to be your music.

The reality that our region of Tanzania is about to be cut off the national power grid hasn’t changed daily life here at all. If in America, people would be charging to Home Depot and Walmart, gas prices would triple, and people would start worrying that apocalypse was upon them, and find some prominent Christian figure to agree with them.

Here, the greater concern is that the industry of the region will be crippled, industry that has fueled the last decade of slow economic turnaround, a turnaround that itself has contributed to the current crisis.

For those curious, our understanding of the situation will follow. But for us, the biggest concern is whether we should buy the refrigerator we have picked out here, or wait and try to find a propane refrigerator in Nairobi or Dar es Salaam. We know the situation will be resolved, we just don’t know whether the lights will be off for days or for weeks.

Okay, the explanation: The immediate concern is the falling water in the lake that feeds two major hydroelectric sites. The water level is only 30 cm above the cut-off point, and when it reaches this point, water will no longer be able to pass over the turbines in this dam, or the dam farther down river. These two dams have historically provided the bulk of electricity in Tanzania.

The major reason for this shortage of water is the drought of 2005-2006, which prompted the power rationing scheme in operation for the past 10 months. Other reasons include increased water diversion in the watershed of the lake, and rapid demand in electricity here, with no real increase in power infrastructure. Since the water release through the dams has been greatly reduced all year, the other power stations have been under increased strain, and numerous failures have perpetuated the cycle. Also, as the country has shut off daytime power completely during the past month or so, people have started working at night, which has actually resulted in an increase in consumption.

Some emergency generators have come, but there have been issues of fraud and delays that exacerbated the situation. The ones that have come have been installed in the capital city and in the southern regions, but once the dams stop producing power, there will not be enough power to keep the entire grid from failing. And since our region is currently without any power stations, the only way to keep any lights on in the country is to cut off the lights to our neighborhood, until an emergency power plant comes our way.

So no need to worry, pity, or send batteries. But do send greetings to our grandparents, who remember life before power lines and microwaves, and lived quite beautifully, as far as we can tell. If only we could find someone to drop off big blocks of ice on our porch, though…

2006-10-12T11:17:00.000-07:00

powerless.

According to official reports, Mwanza will soon gain statistical notoriety:

In two weeks, when the hydroelectric plants run out of hydro, we will become the largest city in the world without electricity.

But if we had to live anywhere in the world without electricity, it would be here. People are flexible, and kerosene is government-subsidized.

And the house is moving along nicely. No power tools needed here, just lots of muscle.

Splash away, it's Ramadan!

2006-10-05T13:36:00.000-07:00

Elijah's bathtime
Originally uploaded by lindermans.

We live in a country with the greatest electricity problems in Africa. But we also live in a country with a large muslim population and with a muslim president, and we are currently in the muslim season of Ramadan, where adherents fast for the daylight hours, and feast with friends and family after dusk. So the hours of our power rationing have been adjusted: now the power goes off earlier (around 6 am), but comes on by 6 pm, to help get the meals started for the hungry muslims. So our evenings have been less crazy, as we have a little more time to cook, eat, and heat water for baths before bedtime.

You can observe Elijah’s reaction to these developments.

On another note, the water department brought a water line to our project house yesterday. Tomorrow we build an in-ground water storage tank and a septic system. Lots of puns come to mind which I will kindly refrain from divulging.

our (future) home

2006-10-02T15:13:00.000-07:00

IMG_1430
Originally uploaded by lindermans.

Here it is, in all it's glory. Though hard to see, there is a (future)guest room above the garage. So if you come to fix the place up, you can stay for free. Karibu!

And if you click on the picture, you may be able to find some inside pictures. Enjoy!

2006-09-25T12:14:00.000-07:00

Return home

After a few hours of dealing with the hospital bureaucracy (and a few trips up and down the stairs to the ninth floor), Ruthie was discharged and allowed to return home. Her condition is much improved, and she was brimming with joy!

Without detailing her exact condition, she may have died within months if left untreated. And if she had gone through with the procedure suggested by the first hospital to examine her, a fatal episode may have come even sooner.

And, before anyone gets the mistaken notion that I have done something heroic (I hope this isn’t the case!), I must reiterate that the first hospital was the one I unknowingly brought Ruth to a few weeks back. Thankfully, God works in unexpected ways, through good medicine, through serendipitous encounters; both good and bad decisions become the soil for the wonderful fruit of God’s grace.

Unfortunately, here is the greater challenge: Ruth likely will need to remain on medicine the rest of her life, a prescription that currently costs about $3.50/month, a sizable amount of money for Sukuma villagers. This will put untold strain on their family; additionally, when choosing between food and medicine, or between medicine and your children’s school fees, the more immediate need receives priority.

When we arrived in Lubuga, Ruth’s husband, Urbano, was anxious to show me the progress he had made in his garden. He is hard at work implementing the principles demonstrated at the agricultural conference in Zambia, and is already teaching others the principles of composting and soil enrichment. After playing around in the dirt and manure for a little while, we talked about Ruth’s medicine, why it is so important, and how much it costs. Urbano reminded me that his only income was selling off things, like his trees for firewood.

(It never ceases to be awkward living with one foot in the richest economy in the world, and one foot in one of the poorest. Conversations like this don’t help.)

Suddenly, the garden project ceased being a “project”. Perhaps the soil will yield more than one kind of fruit, a fruit we all will enjoy, regardless of where we are planted.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

We start housing construction tomorrow. And I am both excited and terrified. I hope to post some pictures soon, hopefully before the livestock is evicted from the house!!!

2006-09-21T11:42:00.000-07:00

Small loans, crowded hospital rooms

Today, I had two distinct experiences, which I am hoping are not as distinct as I first thought.

In the morning, I traveled with Eric and Jason, two teammates, to a village where church leaders had assembled under a mango tree, surrounded by fields of cassava. While the setting—mango tree, vast horizon, slight breeze, searing sunshine, a generous meal, songs, prayers, scripture-reading, endless smiles and laughter—were just like any church meeting, the purpose today was different: to discuss money.

When the account book was opened, the discussions became intense. This group of Sukuma men and women, previously dominated by ancestral religion, jealousy, and fatalism, are hard at work forging a new future. The tool they are using today is microsavings and microloans.

The ifogong’ho, as such groups are called here, formed in 2004 as a response to needs such as medicine, transport, and other individual problems. Modest interest is charged on loans, the interest providing more capital for loans and also serves as potential funding for community projects.

The meeting was long, as all meetings here are (is this a universal cultural trait?), and on the surface the meeting was unspectacular (the largest loan discussed was equivalent to less than $10). But seeing this group struggle together, a group that never could have formed under the old worldview, was inspiring.

We left the meeting after lunch; Jason and Eric headed to a more remote village where people requested a showing of the Jesus Film. I traveled back by dala-dala to Bugando Hospital to check on Ruth. While Ruth was recovering nicely, my hour or so in the hospital looking for her and visiting with her was less than pleasant.

I view myself as pretty tough when it comes to hospitals. But I don’t even want to recollect what I saw and felt there, let alone retell it. But Ruthie is doing well, and will be discharged on Friday.

The two events—unrelated? Not exactly. It is my hope that the greater the impact the kingdom worldview has on communities, the more people are working together for the good of those around them, the greater amount of time will be spent enjoying company under mango trees, and the lesser time confined in crowded hospital wards.

At least, this is our hope.

2006-09-19T12:59:00.000-07:00

good news, bad news...

Good news: Two consecutive days of strong downpours. Stronger, so I have heard, than has been seen in years. Surprisingly, the heavy rain makes driving safer, as the tens of thousands of pedestrians crowding the roadways disappear to huts and shelter.

Bad news: The shelters are better at protecting from rainfall than mudslides. And in a city full of squatters filling rocky hillsides, the results have been tragic. More than one area has experienced mudslides.

More news later.

2006-09-17T12:19:00.000-07:00

We may finally have a house, but will we have power?

We have been house hunting since arriving in June. The problem is this: Western style houses are tailored for big-spending NGO's, businessmen, and people linked to the gold mining industry here (someone showed me a house the other day, and asked $1200/month with a straight face!). The vast majority of other houses are tiny, inaccessable by car, or in poor condition.

Or sitting unfinished.

In a place where it is nearly impossible to save money, those who desire to save for the future largely invest in cement (doesn't lose value, and can't be borrowed by family members). So Mwanza is filled with half-built houses, on a 20 year construction timeline.

We found one of these half-built houses, and have been in negotiations with the owner, a widowed school teacher, whose husband was building the house until his untimely death 7 years ago. No work has been done since that time. So, we are planning to finish this house, putting up our money in exchange for future rent, which will be half of the market value here. Also, we are free to put walls where we would like them, put in a reasonably sized kitchen, and so forth. Within a few years, she will begin making quite a bit of money from rent. It has been a pleasure working with her!

We will ink the deal tomorrow morning. Then I will learn more than I ever imagined about construction, African style (everything but the roof and most walls must be finished, built, or rebuilt!).

Unfortunately, the power situation continues to deteriorate here in Tanzania. As of today, we will now be without power for all daylight hours, every day of the week (instead of losing power 5 days, as we have become accustomed), as the government is trying to delay an imminent collapse of the power system. And there is talk that we will soon lose the evening hours as well. Goodbye hot water. Goodbye refrigeration. Hello kerosene. Hello hand-washing laundry. We are looking into some alternative power sources, like solar power, solar water heating, battery power storage (capturing extra power during the night to use in the daytime), and putting Josiah on a hamster wheel.

On another note, I am picking up Ruth for her surgery Tuesday morning. Hosting Ruth a couple weeks ago (in the Guild's small guesthouse) helped remind us what we were looking for in a house. Ruth was completely comfortable staying with us; the house was both comfortable and modest; a backdrop, not a focal point. We believe that this house will have a similar feel when finished. Please, come visit us and see for yourself...

But if coming soon, bring your tools. And your batteries.

2006-09-11T13:39:00.000-07:00

Brothers...

2006-09-11T12:53:00.000-07:00

In Sukuma:

"I am so happy you are here, I am going to start clapping!!!"

2006-09-10T21:09:00.000-07:00

the boys...

The boys are great. Africa is one adventure after another, and Josiah is all about adventure. He loves being able to eat with his hands, and never tires of beans and rice, or ugali (stiff porridge made of maize—like corn but not sweet). Today we were served cow stomach and intestines. Josiah didn’t mind. Kinda grossed me out, though. Also, he loves the fish here (fresh tilapia for a quarter each!). He likes going to new churches that don’t have buildings yet, because when church is outside, it’s okay to play with sticks, right? He likes playing with the kids here, and is learning how they play their games. He thinks bumpy roads are the best (no shortage here!). And we occasionally see a monkey running around, which always makes his day (one was taking our clothes off the line last week!).

Elijah is growing up, too. He is trying to walk. He stands without holding on to anything, but to walk, he has to be holding something, like a mop or a hand towel. He loves being outside, playing in the dirt, and is learning to tolerate bumps on the road. Best of all, he is so receptive to new people; here, when you greet an older person, you say, “shikamo”, but, for babies, the mama says shikamo for the baby, then takes the baby’s hand to touch the top of the other person’s head… Elijah has learned this, so when we lean him a little bit, he will always reach out and touch the other person’s head, then just go to the other person. Everyone enjoys this!

I will try to post some pictures before the power goes out...

2006-09-08T02:54:00.000-07:00

Losing myself.

It has not been since December, when Elijah was born, that I have felt so many emotions in a 24-hour period.

The background: I mentioned Ruth, the wife of Urbano, a couple posts ago. There was one part of the story I left out: Ruth has been suffering intermittently from severe abdominal pain for months. Some of the symptoms were especially worrisome, so we tried to get her into the hospital the next day, but unfortunately, we couldn’t get her in for a couple weeks.

Eric, our teammate and gracious host, volunteered his car, and his day, to drive to the village with me to transport Ruth to the public hospital here in Mwanza. The results: Ruth’s health problem required an operation, and we set a date (this last Tuesday) to pick her up and take her in for the surgery.

Another layer: While Ruth was having tests run, I hurried from the hospital down the street to my language class, where I had to defend why I was seven minutes late. The teacher inquired the next day about the prognoses. The following day, she shared Ruth’s prognosis with Dr. G___, one of her students, an Asian doctor who devotes most of his time to repairing the botched surgeries of the previously mentioned hospital. He was skeptical of the diagnosis, so he asked the teacher to arrange with me to bring Ruth to his language session this Tuesday, instead of to the hospital for surgery. I gladly obliged.

The stories converged this Tuesday, when I left the cybercafe to drive to the village to tell Ruthie about the change in plans. She was excited, and relieved, that she would get to see this other doctor. We welcomed her to our current house (the Guild’s small guest house) for supper and left to meet the doctor, who turned a small classroom into an examination room. He quickly, with much exasperation, determined that the original diagnosis was wrong, blatantly, unforgivably wrong. Dr. G___ invited us to visit him the next day at the surgical theatre at the Catholic Hospital, where he would find us between surgeries, order additional tests, and provide a new course of action.

After a late night spent visiting with Ruth over chai, we traveled to the Catholic hospital early in the morning. I phoned the doc, who answered during surgery to direct us to the theatre, where we unfortunately spent most of the day, seeing way too much (imagine MASH with cement walls), pieces of stories more tragic than I care to describe. At the end of the day, when there was no reliable test or labwork to derive information from, Dr. G___ (visibly shaken by the day in surgery) reverted to low-tech medicine—incisive questions and skilled touch—to form a diagnosis.

I don’t feel comfortable disclosing the exact diagnosis, but the Dr. found two problems, one obvious, the other obscured by the first. The first problem is easily operable (scheduled for Sept. 19th), the second is not—at least not here—but can be mitigated by medicine, hopefully reducing pain, and diminishing the risk of a serious, or fatal, complication.

Ruth’s response: Sheer thankfulness to all involved, especially God who orchestrated it all.

My response: Emotional wreckage. Two days on the verge of tears. Why? Because in rapid succession, I felt every possible emotion: I felt humbled, outraged, faithless, guilty, privileged, exorbitantly wealthy, insufficient, prideful, unprepared, thankful, sad, judgmental, annoyed, completely exhausted, taken for granted, overly depended on, in the wrong profession, in the best profession, blessed, yet so powerless. Truthfully, by African standards, there was no cause for this small experience to affect me so greatly.

But all these emotions, day after day, are gnawing away at something greater: my very identity

I am so used to controlling my own destiny, yet in spending so much time with people with no such illusion, I am losing my notion of control, I am losing my center. You could even say I am losing myself in the process, or at least redefining myself, as something other than the center, not primarily the actor, but increasingly the acted upon. People here understand this well, so they value their stability within their community over their long-term well-being. And, from Ruth’s perspective, the web of relationships provided her something her entire family together could not have afforded: access to a good doctor.

But… The final layer.

Aaron, in a previous team meeting, prayed specifically for Ruth. He prayed that God would provide her with a good, honest, skilled doctor, that would help her.

Perhaps this is the only layer that matters. And perhaps in this layer I will find the center, and find myself as well.

2006-09-05T06:22:00.000-07:00

No news is good news...

hello, friends. Sorry we have been out of touch. The last three weeks have been a flurry of activity. And though my time in the cybercafe is limiting my ability to recap these weeks, let me assure you that all is well here. Though our frustration has been great at times, the support we have received has been greater, and we have never been more excited about living and working here.

But we also want a vacation.

Our internet access has been bad lately, because the power situation here is worsening. Also, our schedule has picked up considerably with the return of our teammates, Eric and Susan Guild. The choice has been to either help with the kids after being gone all day, or sneak away to the internet. The right choice is obvious.

Wow, I wish you all were here so we could all catch up over coffee. We miss you all immeasurably. Oh, and to those who have supported us, there are some people here whom you have helped that would want to thank you personally. And we thank you for allowing us to share your love with people here. It's great to be the middle man sometimes!

until next time...

2006-08-18T12:15:00.000-07:00

Reunion.

Urbano (who accompanied me to the conference [see below]) and his wife, Ruth, hosted Charity and I on our first trip to Tanzania. While 5 years ago, the memories of our three days with Urbano’s family are as clear as ever. These are experiences you never forget.

In fact, the memory is bittersweet. It was our first and deepest encounter with rural poverty here in Africa. And we felt so overwhelmed, so powerless. We knew stories of people on short-term trips whose good intentions left behind a wealth of problems. We did not know how to help this family without creating discord in the larger community. Regrettably, we did nothing.

And when the vast food they provided for us (sometimes the poorest can be the most hospitable) lasted several days in our stomachs, the feeling of guilt lasted years. It provoked theological reflection and instilled within me a desire to study the causes of poverty and best practices of development agencies.

I know a little more know than I did then. One thing I learned: relationships are an asset. This is both a theological truth and an economic reality. And while Urbano understood this reality in 2001, I am starting to understand it now. We are richer when we enjoy the relationships of others, including the poor, like Urbano and Ruth.

So we went driving, this time with two boys, to Lubuga, the Sukuma village that looks just like it did in 2001. The hospitality wasn’t as lavish; the rains came late this season, and the crops did not have long enough to produce a large harvest. Everyone is eating sparingly, as what they have must last until December. Besides, Urbano was eager to show us what he has been doing since returning from the conference.

We looked over his small garden, where he had begun a compost pit, inspired by the conference. This is the first step toward a drip-irrigation pilot project. He is saving to buy a spade to start “double-digging” (a process of soil enrichment that involves much grunt work). It is my job to find the drip lines (thankfully, this is the last step, buying me a little time!).

Then, he took me to his inheritance, so to speak. A 10 hectare plot of land that he purchased with his pension when he retired from teaching. He has been improving it for years, hand-digging a well, among other things. We met his wife, Ruth, there, working on building a house. Charity and Elijah caught up with Ruth, Josiah and I walked the property with Urbano.

Urbano showed us all the improvements he has made over the past few years, the hand-dug well, the water diversion projects, the crops he has been planting. He then talked about the things he has been inspired to do following the agricultural conference, like building a dam to improve both the water supply and the soil fertility, contouring the soil to reduce erosion, and introducing new crops.

But most impressive was Urbano’s disclosure—in his soft-spoken manner—made on our walk to the ridge that comprised the southernmost boundary of his land. He desired to give this land away—not to his family, but to the church. He wanted this land, the reward of decades of teaching school (averaging over 100 students/class!) to be used for the benefit of the people around him, people who have not always been so kind to him, yet are still the object of his compassion.

Maybe a school. Or an agricultural demonstration facility. Or a health clinic. Anything to help his people. And while Urbano certainly doesn’t have the resources to actualize any of these dreams, he does have some land, and a faith that has sustained him, a faith that has taught him to hope in spite of the realities around him.

We stood on the ridge, with Sisal plants on one side, the low sun casting shadows over a land that, for the first time, struck me as beautiful. We prayed together, sharing a hope that united us, as though we had spent decades, not days, together. Then we joined Charity and Ruth, who joined our prayer.

As I write this, with U2’s “One” playing on iTunes, I can’t help but wonder what kind of world we would have if our relationships weren’t so broken, if our individual worlds weren’t so insulated, if our inheritances weren’t so hoarded, or our hopes so limited. What if our lives were as God first intended, harmonious with one another and with the nature designed to sustain us?

The retired teacher was still teaching yesterday. And he will continue to teach me how to truly love, truly share, truly sacrifice. My utopian ponderings require no action, but this reunion requires something more. Theologically, I believe that Christ died to reconcile me to God. But equally important, I believe that Christ died to reconcile me to my fellow human being, specifically, to Urbano and Ruth.

While I don’t yet understand what this means, and certainly don’t like what it requires, I am beginning to see just how valuable these relationships are; standing on the ridge with Urbano, I began to see just how beautiful they are as well.

2006-08-15T03:00:00.000-07:00

Healing Hands famine response conference highlights... the good and the bad...

Recovered from a week of Ugali (maize meal boiled in water to make a not-so-yummy stiff porridge), refreshed by hot water showers, and reunited with my beloved family, it is now time to share some of the details of the trip.

Bad: Hearing the stories of famine and its effects in different parts of Africa. Some caused by political upheaval (Zimbabwe), some by locusts and desertification (many West African nations), others by drought (Tanzania, Uganda, Kenya, and others). With 12 countries represented by individuals experiencing the effects firsthand, you learn both the scale and the depth of suffering on this great continent.

Good: Hearing stories of empowered Africans implementing small-scale drip irrigation and soil conservation projects for the good of those around them. Seeing Africans accepting greater responsibility for their situation, refusing to sit around idly until an outside relief shipment arrives.

Better: Seeing Sweetbert and Urbano, our Tanzanian cohorts, subsistence farmers and leaders within the churches we serve, soaking it all in, eager to implement the ideas, inspired by the successes of other Africans. The opportunity was once-in-a-lifetime; the experience a rebirth of sorts. Calvin and I were challenged and convicted to find ways to partner together with these men to serve the long-suffering Sukuma people.

Bad: Kenya Airways. One of the few African airlines conscientious enough to remove an airplane from a flight schedule due to mechanical issues, but not yet skilled in handling inconvenienced passengers, KA left us to sleep on the floor in the Johannesburg Airport.

Good: Utilizing our American skills, we complained ourselves into an upgrade for our return red-eye flight. My first time in business class. I recommend this.

Better: Seeing our friends Urbano and Sweetbert (first-time fliers, no less!) enjoy the premier lounge (part of the upgrade) during our long layover in Joburg. Free drinks! Free food! Hard to think about famine in the first-class lounge.

Bad: My smell and appearance after nine days on the road.

Good: Going on a nine-day trip with only a carry-on sized bookbag for my luggage.

Better: Urbano brought only a half-full briefcase.

Bad: Submerging my phone in water during our overnight in Nairobi en route to the conference.

Worse: The phone was in my pocket during the immersion.

Even worse: The phone is my camera; no pics of the conference, no pics of Victoria Falls.

The worst: No phone contact with Charity and the boys.

Good: The phone is working now.

Better: No need to make $3/minute international phone calls… I’m home!!

Good: Victoria Falls. The conference attendees took an afternoon trip to visit the nearby falls. Unspeakable beauty. Cascades 355 ft. high, and nearly a mile wide, a constant flow interrupted only by jagged volcanic rock.

Better: Urbano and Sweetbert’s reactions to the falls. Their native language doesn’t even have a word for waterfall, they have never seen a waterfall, and they are face-to-face with the world’s most spectacular. Urbano, taking me by the hand: “Kevin, look!!! Behold what God has done!!! No man could have ever dreamed of this!!!” Even the rainbows, multiple vivid arches created by the rising mist and the unimpeded sunshine, were spellbinding to these two men. Urbano, a retired science teacher, nearly missed the bus ride home as he listened to the ranger explain the geological history behind the falls, how the forces of tens of thousands of years created this natural wonder of the world. 70 years old, on his first field trip.

There is much more to say; these notes only touch the surface. Mostly insignificant, really; words have yet to fill an empty stomach. Healing Hands International, the convener of the conference, is implementing a continent-wide initiative to empower people to produce survival gardens; gardens that produce a variety of vegetables to stave off malnutrition, gardens nourished by micro-irrigation to insure continuous crop output, even in the dry season. They will be returning to various regions to conduct larger workshops with local participants; they will be in Tanzania sometime in the next year. Our work is cut out for us.

Forget the good and the bad. The best has yet to be written.

2006-08-08T08:05:00.000-07:00

back from Zambia...

returned back last night. The blessing of participating in the conference was equivalent to the heartache of being away from Charity and my boys for nine days. Only contact was a three minute call on a borrowed cell phone and two brief e-mails. I know for some people, travel like this is a regular thing. But I also know someone who refuses medicine during dental work to save money. Some things just aren't for everyone.

many details and anecdotes to share, which I will share later...

2006-07-28T21:01:00.000-07:00

on the way to zambia...

check back in a week or so.

Or, go to www.hhi.org to read about the Fight Famine Workshop.

Peace, Kevin

2006-07-27T10:56:00.000-07:00

One more note about the village…

(a reflection on mental illness in African society)

Sunday, while in the Sukuma village, under the mango tree with the crowd listening to a new story, provided the opportunity to observe a curious, yet beautiful thing.

There was a woman there, perhaps in her forties, with a bizarre facial expression, a face dominated by buckteeth that hung over her bottom lip and eyes that bulged out of their sockets. She walked around erratically, spitting incessantly, repeatedly adjusting her clothes in a way that exposed herself to everyone around her.

In a society where the government can’t afford to provide anything but the most basic services, there are no homes for the mentally ill and delayed, no medication, no special education options. So, the mentally disabled continue to live in the general society with everyone else.

I first noticed this woman immediately after we arrived, while a youth choir from a nearby church was singing. She was standing with them, barking out words out of sequence, attempting the choreography, spitting over and over again. During the teaching, she would parrot the teacher, and once even corrected a teacher in a way that everyone found hilarious, and as the crowd laughed, she beamed and laughed with them.

Anyways, I was completely distracted by this woman, but the Tanzanians didn’t seem to mind her being around. They did not tell her to be quiet, to go away, to stop talking during the teaching, to yield her whims to the important discussions at hand. I have been in situations where everyone wanted someone to leave or be quiet, but there was no acceptable way to do this, so instead they shun, shame, and inwardly despise a person. None of this was the case in the village.

As I considered this woman, I wondered how she made it through the famine. I mean, I have a cousin in California who worked with the mentally ill, and once the American economy slowed, their funding got cut. But this woman must have enjoyed the compassion of her neighbors even in the hardest times.

There is a terrible irony present. This is a society that traditionally views woman as second in nature to men, and acts as though they are property. As Americans (or as Christians, the first to challenge this notion), this traditional view is not acceptable. We assert that all are equal image-bearers of our creator. But we treat the useless as a nuisance, distraction, a cancer that we must programmatically remove from our midst. I think I was the only person of the scores present made uncomfortable by this woman, yet I can cite numerous theological principles and a handful of excellent books about how God is made manifest in such as these.

We focus so much on how much we know. Perhaps we have forgotten too much in the process.

2006-07-26T00:53:00.000-07:00

Discoveries...

I discovered army ants yesterday… or shall I say they discovered me. They also discovered the fastest route to my boxer shorts.

We all discovered how fast I could remove my clothing.

There are many reasons they call them army ants. Though I normally sympathize with pacifist theology, in this case, I refused to turn the other cheek.

2006-07-25T00:46:00.000-07:00

Sunday in the village...

The day began under a young tree next to a small cluster of mud-brick houses. The ground was unexpectedly moist, refreshed by some unexpected thunderstorms in the middle of the dry season. About twenty people were gathered to hear the Jewish creation myth as read by my teammate and a couple teachers that he is mentoring.

People here have a better understanding of what creation stories are about; not about establishing scientific principles for debate and analysis, but rather about describing an ontological reality about who the players in our existence are, what their relationship to one another is, and how we got into the situation that we are in.

Traditionally amongst the Sukuma (and this is over-simplified), people view the creation of the world to have been the afterthought of an unconcerned god, one who is displeased with the world and wanted little interaction with the creation, so he allowed various spirits, spirits of ancestors, spirits of animals, spirits of geological features like rivers, lakes, and large rocks, to control the events of the world. Thus, people’s situation are largely assigned to fate, except for the influence of ancestral spirits which may provide some protection if they are remembered through sacrifices, or who may cause misfortune if forgotten or implored through witches to inflict harm on others.

The worldview of the audience Sunday morning was made obvious by the numerous shrines constructed around the houses, and by the shrine posted away from the houses near the main path, designed to ward off malevolent forces before they come near the living quarters. This worldview leads to fatalism, jealousy, and hopelessness, a wicked triangle of forces that leads to horrifying results.

Ironically, the story that causes so much discord in America (evidenced in the creationism/intelligent design/evolution debate for school curriculum) is a story of peace here; you can be at peace with a creator God who actually loves you, you can live in harmony with the natural world, and in community with other people, without fear or manipulation, and you can find hope in a greater purpose for existence.

So we merely shared our story, and were invited to share more. There was a man, himself a convert to this story, who lived nearby these families, who volunteered to return to share more, for which these families were grateful.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

We drove to another place, somewhere my teammate and some Tanzanians have been sharing for weeks. This is a larger community, so we sat under a larger mango tree. This week, those who had gathered to hear the story were given the opportunity to choose a new allegiance, a new faith, a new hope. The change is so radical, so meaningful, as people accept a new worldview, that it is as thought they begin life anew.

We utilize the same imagery that the Jewish people used over 2,000 years ago, an immersion that both symbolizes a washing away of the old, and also the rebirth into a new life. Over 100 people chose to participate together in this rebirth, from young to old, men and women alike. We walked together to a small pond, passing the others that had already gone dry. Josiah sat by my side, watching people enter into the “baptism hole”, as he called it. We watched the rebirth, not of individuals, but of a community, with different values (men and women both equally carrying the image of God, for example), different hopes, different dreams, a different future.

Of course, worldview shift is no easier for people here than it is for people anywhere else. People will not immediately give up beating their wives, they will continue to fear the spirits and ancestors, it will be many months—even years—before people start believe that there are ways in which they can better their situation (that is, their food production is not merely a product of fate, but that things like irrigation, composting, and partnering crops can make a real difference). But this community, those assembled under the tree, have chosen a new trajectory. They are a new outpost of God’s kingdom, representing his values, expressing his love, embodying his hope. My own excitement pales in comparison with the old men emerging from the water, people who have lived through colonial rule, independence, socialist policies, and countless government schemes, and for the first time have found hope.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Storm clouds were forming all day long. Early in the day, Josiah commented that God was going to water the plants. Later, on the long, bumpy drive home, after hours under trees, much walking, and overwhelming hospitality (Josiah ate up the beans and rice!), he looked out his window, saw rain falling over the plain, and said, “God is filling up the baptism holes”. For me, at least, it puts some things in perspective.

2006-07-21T04:25:00.000-07:00

Team news, hero complex, and Zambia conference...

our teammates have experienced the following things this week:

One teammate, driving numerous church members from one village meeting to the next, had half a dozen people vomit inside his Toyota.

Another teammate allowed some friends to help him eradicate a swarm of bees from his attic, before his family returned from an extended absence. What they didn't realize was just how flamable honey can be.

One teammate had a tire boot placed on his vehicle for parking in an unmarked no parking zone, placed there by a police officer who remained at the car until our teammate returned. The police are vigilant right now, as it it a "hungry month"; school fees are due this month, and the police typically receive "chai kidogo" (literally: a little tea, AKA small bribe) in leiu of actual fines, if you don't mind foregoing a receipt. Our teammate asked for a receipt, so he paid double. You are better off running over some onions than parking near a police officer who can't afford school fees.

Another teammate, exhausted from a grueling first few months in Tanzania, escaped all of this for a few days in the mountains at a beautiful lodge.

And this week, we stumbled through some Kiswahili, stumbled through culture, stumbled through town, and stumbled along.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Currently, I am a little depressed. I am happiest when I am accomplishing something, when I feel like I am making a meaningful contribution. Our teammates have assured us not to hold our breath, as it took them a couple years before they were making any progress, seeing any results, feeling accomplished at all.

The irony is that when I have gone on short mission trips, I didn't have this problem. The only thing depressing was going home.

Maybe it is like dating. The first date is magical. Ecstasy continues for weeks, until you discover that the person you like is a flawed human being, and you start sensing that they have figured out the same about you. The smells become less attractive, sometimes repulsive (I have switched from the dating analogy to present experience, by the way). The apparent victims, that I so pitied, have taken advantage of my pity.

We have a friend here, a teenage girl whose parents have both died, and she lives with her grandmother in our part of town. She met one of our teammates several weeks ago, and stops by the house daily. She eventually brought up the fact that she needed money for school fees. Our teammate agreed to pay the school fees, and provided her with the needed money. Except school has now started, and she is not in school. She came by yesterday, early in the morning. Our teammate, escaped to the mountains, was unable to translate for me, but I tried my best to communicate with her. She eventually grew tired of my Swahili, so she broke out her english. Sticking her hand at me, she said, "Give me money!"

What happened to the other money? I don't know. But what began as a beautiful story, helping an orphan with school fees, is not so beautiful anymore.

Typically, though, I have experienced the first part, the simple victory, but not the discouraging part that comes a few weeks later (I've never been around for that part). The story, of course, is still unfolding, the ending not yet written. The story may end up much more beautiful than the beginning might suggest, and as is the case with the best stories, it will not be about a heroic act, but steadfast love over time.

But I desperately want to be a hero. When I was young I dreamed of a holiday being named after me, a museum opened in my honor. And my temptation here is to be a hero on the cheap. In America you have to rescue someone from a burning building, or donate millions to a charitable cause. Here, you can buy life-saving medicine for somebody, send someone to school, buy someone new clothes, and still have enough left over for dinner and dessert, which you earned with your heroic deeds.

I say this only as a personal confession, relating some of the mixed motives I have held, and continue to hold.

So, why am I blogging this?

Two reasons: First, I thought I understood Africa, but I don't. Unknowingly, I have succumbed to "development pornography" (google for more information), a reductionist understanding that perceived all Africans as people needing heroes. I feel like I understand this place less and less each passing day.

Second, I am daily frustrated by the street children that ask me for money. I have been told by a friend here, the director of the largest street children center in town, that giving money to street children is the worst possible thing to do, as it encourages small children to run away from home, avoid work and responsibility, and leads to the formation of street gangs, amongst other problems.

I would love to take several of these kids off the street, especially the ones that must be 5 or 6 years old., and give them nice clothes, good food, some toys, and send them to school, treating them like my own children. But while this would certainly meet my needs, it wouldn't solve the problems these children are facing. Even though I am convinced I am doing the right thing, it's not very fulfilling.

So I have nothing to write, except for how I have helped people by refusing to help them, until I understand what the problem really is, and until I have a way to really help.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Something I am excited about is my trip next week to Zambia for a week-long conference on agricultural methods and innovations to increase food security. The region we are in is emerging from a famine, so the conference should provide some wonderful insights. Interestingly enough, to get to the country next door, we have to fly to Kenya and South Africa first. Why can't my friends convince Southwest to enter the African market?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

About the boys...

Elijah, now seven months old, is pulling up and cruising along tables. Josiah is throwing out Swahili words like crazy now, which we are excited about. Also, he is happy that his friend, Trey, has returned from the states. They played all afternoon.

Also, for those who are wondering: 200 shillings is about 15 cents.

2006-07-16T09:53:00.000-07:00

I ran over something today...

driving here is hard.

space is limited. a road is also a sidewalk. And a place for merchandising everything you can imagine.

Imagine trying to drive a SUV through the aisles of a walmart supercenter on a weekend, then throw a few more vehicles in the mix, then add massive potholes and road hazards, and some livestock. Then switch the steering wheel and gearstick to the other side of the car.

It got a little tight today. I was okay on the right, as I was just squeezing past the dala-dala (minibus) so that it could move forward, so the cab behind it could inch forward, to open up a route for me (I always liked Tetris, by the way).

Then everything changed.

I squashed some man's onions.

If I was in America, I could have rested secure by responding, "yeah, but you left them in the road." This isn't America.

I was pretty excited that I ran over something that I knew the Swahili word for (against all odds). When they held up the evidence, I responded "vitanguu!", hoping that my superior language skills would absolve me of guilt. No luck.

My guilt offering: 200 Tanzanian Shillings. And I didn't get to keep the onions.

2006-07-15T11:17:00.000-07:00

a beautiful day...

it has been a whirlwind since our last post. We have welcomed numerous guests in the past week, including our missions minister and his wife, and took them and our summer interns to the airport, while another visiting team doing survey work south of town departed for Uganda. We have looked at a couple houses, and suffered through respiratory and stomach issues that, after a few weeks, are finally starting to leave our team.

I have had some depressing days. While there are some positive indications of late, like the receding famine that afflicted the region, slightly improving economic trajectory, and increased availability of mosquito netting, I am starting to see why so many people are terrified at what the future holds here.

To put it bluntly in the words of a tanzanian teacher, "Satan is using HIV/AIDS to destroy the youth of Africa." While all our national attention seems to focus on events in the middle east (another development that grieves me deeply), there is a ticking time bomb that we are sitting on here. Africa is a collection of people that have sustained themselves for thousands of years with elaborate social traditions and rules, and a distinctive orientation toward family and tribe.

As the 30-40 yr. old generation is decimated by HIV, and the youth increasingly turn away from traditional values to the individualism and materialism idealized and marketed by the west, the seeds are being planted for a future social crisis.

And there is no tangible solution.

Also, a partnership we have been working to bridge between a university Physician's Assistant program in the States and the churches we serve here doesn't seem to be materializing. We knew it was a long shot, but we still hoped.

So, why the title of the post?

One, there was no vomiting today, no diarrhea. Two, no mosquitoes inside the net. Three, Josiah and Sadie got along without fighting.

More significantly, for the first time ever, our team here got together to hang out and talk, as we are all free of the guests of summer. We shared our dreams, our resolve to find a way to help the people here better face the poverty around us, and set our eyes to the future.

And I found a great new restaurant here, the Kivulini Kitchen (a swahili word, google for translation). The Kivulini is a women's rights project here in town initiated by a man from Switzerland. The place had real yogurt. I have missed yogurt more than you know. Plus, french bread while we waited. I have missed bread in restaurants. Jason and I sat and waited for the dinner that we were taking home to the families, and dreamed about partnering with organizations like the Kivulini.

BUT, the real reason the day was beautiful:

We shared with Matayo, one of the emerging church leaders here, about the lack of news about the partnership we have been hoping for. We wished he hadn't asked, as he speaks for a people of desperate medical needs, and we knew his discouragement would be hundreds of times greater than our own. But his response--insightful, convicting, persevering, genuine--both humbled me and gave me hope:

"someone will come. our churches have been praying for months. someone will come."

Oh, that I might have the faith of this man. A man with nothing, but with so much to share.

2006-07-03T23:18:00.000-07:00

Happy fourth of july...

Currently, it is 9 in the morning here, and I am sitting in a computer lab. This computer lab has a sattelite connection to the internet; more reliable than the connection we have been using, which has been out for a week.

The week has been productive; we finished our application for a residence permit, which involved a ton of documents and signatures and stamps... and we welcomed our container into Mwanza on Sunday, unloaded it, surveyed the damage (my filing cabinet was pulverized on the roads here!), and packed it away in a storage garage, until we find a house to move into.

The city is beautiful early in the morning; the tea and coffee vendors busy selling their product to the street merchants restacking all of their food and goods for sale. The pineapples are arriving by wheelbarrow, unloaded from the arriving trucks and busses. And, as always, everyone remembers what you have purchased before, and are quick to offer you another pumpkin, or more peanuts, or they will ask where you children are, and how they are doing.

I picked up the fruit for our fourth of july cookout; some pinapple, watermelon, and bananas, and some food for later in the week. I will catch the dala-dala home shortly, and we will go to our first tanzanian birthday party, then later to the cookout, then to language class this evening. Noone seems aware of our American holiday here.

We will enjoy the watermelon anyway. Light a sparkler for us, okay?

2006-06-27T01:09:00.000-07:00

baby stroller, tanzania style

2006-06-25T11:12:00.000-07:00

Apologies…

We greatly appreciate the e-mails we have received and the comments posted on this blog. Unfortunately, its been impossible to respond to the e-mails at this point. Power rationing disables the internet from sun-up to sundown, and we are using the internet connection at someone else’s house. So typically we have time to post a blog, but little more. But we are getting everyone’s messages; thank you so much!

Language school has been a great blessing. Language allows you to learn culture as well. For example, whenever you see an older person here, you say “Shikamoo”. There response is “marahaba”. Language books don’t even try to translate this.

Dr. Salala explained the meaning behind this expression. When you say Shikamoo, you are saying “I accept you as a parent”. Marahaba means, “I will care for you like my children”. Culturally, this is more true than you can imagine.

Also, please pray for us and our neighbors here in Mwanza. Many people close to us are dealing with malaria right now. While medicine is available, many people can’t afford it, and even when purchased, it doesn’t prevent people from a few miserable days of high fevers, chills, headaches, and body pains.

If the picture loads, it is Josiah with the first lizard he has caught here. The first 500 got away.

2006-06-21T10:45:00.000-07:00

Father’s day.

Truth be told, we were completely ignorant of Father’s day until it was upon us. There are no Hallmark stores here to remind us of such holidays, and, though I have watched a few World Cup games on Tanzanian TV, the commercials are for the following items:

Coca-cola: Everyone speaks football!

Voda-com: sappy emotional commercials for a cell-phone company (like our phone commercials from the 80’s… reach out and touch somebody stuff)

NBC Bank: Their ATM’s are everywhere! (funniest commercials I’ve seen in years)

Anyways, this father’s day has been special because I have had some unique time with Josiah. We are watching the world unfold before his eyes. Some unique experiences of late include:

Josiah’s first Dala-Dala ride. The Dala-Dala is the Tanzanian bus system. The basic premise is that by maximizing seating capacity in a tiny, beat up vehicle, you can make a profit despite gas at $5/gallon and fares at $.20/passenger. On Josiah’s inaugural ride, on a trip back home from the central market, he had 25 close friends in a minivan sized vehicle. And I mean close. Normally opposed to personal space infringement, Josiah did not seem to mind the lack of space, though he was bewildered at his inability to determine which of the 25 other passengers was driving. His view was limited.

(note: Charity wanted to add that it was also Elijah’s first dala-dala ride. He didn’t care about drivers, though.)

Josiah’s first Mchezo. The Mchezo is the traditional Sukuma dance and drumming ceremony. We watched two dance troupes in the village of Bujora in the first day of a three-day festival that builds in intensity as the days progress. While the dancers were the main show, Josiah also garnered much attention. While people may see the occasional white aid worker, they aren’t used to toddlers with long, curly hair, and many made sure to touch it for themselves. Josiah was a good sport; wherever Josiah went, a crowd went with him. He played hard with the others, became covered in dirt, and even took a turn on some of the spare drums.

Josiah’s first language class. Actually, it was my first class, but Josiah asked to join me. He played and colored while Dr. Salala taught greetings until 9:30 pm. Greetings are incredibly important here; social courtesies are paramount in a relational culture, and I learned about 50 greetings that have nothing to do with gaining information, but building relationships. Josiah picked up on some greetings himself. He has been saying, “Hamjambo”, and “habari asabuhi” today.

Nothing fills a father with more pride than a loving, wonderful family. I know of no one more blessed than I.

(note: the picture is from another website, as we are currently unable to upload our own pictures. But if you click on the picture, it may take you to a site to learn more about Sukuma dance.)

2006-06-19T02:40:00.002-07:00

Street children and contaminated water…

Friday provided the opportunity to meet and hang out with Jonathon, a former streetchild. Jonathon was selling various postcards that he had made himself. It is his only income.

Jonathon learned English through a program in Mwanza that ministers to street children, which made the entire conversation possible. Though I encounter dozens of street children each day, most only know enough English to say “give me money.” Having an extended conversation was a true blessing.

Jonathon became a street child as a teenager after his mother died; since his father died earlier, he was free to leave his home and travel to Mwanza. Others become street children when their parents succumb to alcoholism, and tell their children to provide for themselves. Perhaps as many as half are simply runaways, who enjoy the freedom of traveling around with friends, scrounging for moneys, buying cigarettes and alcohol.

Orphans and unwanted children are not a new feature of Tanzanian culture. Families, villages, and tribes always found a way to care for orphans, and they ensured that everyone lived up to his or her responsibility to the group.However, what has changed is the unraveling of traditional society caused by the introduction of western politics, materialism, and individualism. Tribe and family used to come first. Increasingly, it is self.

Anyways, Jonathon struggles to get by, no longer living on the streets, but making enough money to rent a room in a squatter house ($5/month). Friday was a good day, as I bought five postcards; there was even enough money for him to buy some coffee from a traveling vendor ($0.04 for three cups). He likes it black, strong enough to keep him up at night while he draws new postcards.

I do feel like I was able to help him in one other practical way. One reason Jonathon likes to drink coffee is that the water is boiled, and thus purified. Jonathon, like all the residents of Mwanza, has no access to inexpensive, clean drinking water. Here are his options:

1. Buy bottled water. $0.25/liter is not much for water (Dasani, even!), but when you make about a dollar a day, the cost is prohibitive.
2. Boil water. Using city water, which is probably within 50 yards of his room, and boiling for 15 minutes, Jonathon will have water free of pathogens, but firewood is not cheap, and the smoke has long-term side effects on vision.
3. Walk to the brewery for free, purified water. But it is about a ten mile walk, which is quite hard when you will be carrying gallons of water back. Many people, however, do this daily.
4. Take a chance on city water. Most people do this from time to time. This is a major source of illnesses like typhoid, belharzia, and amoebas. And, over time, these can take a toll on one’s kidneys, eventually leading to kidney failure. (see post from last week). And the medicine cost adds up, too.

I shared with Jonathon one more option: Solar distillation. By refilling a clear water bottle with city water and setting it in a location with strong sunlight for 6 hours, over 99.99% of pathogens are killed. The UV radiation, which penetrates the plastic and radiates the water, does the work for you. Check out www.sodis.ch for more details. Jonathon seemed excited to give this a try. One of many things we will discuss in the future.

(I must give credit to Harding University School of World Missions, especially Oneal Tankersley, who first exposed us to solar distillation)

2006-06-15T09:32:00.001-07:00

Kidney failure and language school.

We are currently staying in the house of one of our teammates while we continue our own house hunting. One of the benefits of staying at the Guild’s house is the presence of Alex, their gardener. Not only does he do a great job with the house (he is the green mamba killer from June 3rd), but he also helps us practice language, and finds time to play with Josiah.

Several days ago, Alex told us of a friend with serious health problems. He had been unable to urinate for 10 days, and was in great pain, so he was on his way to the hospital for treatment.

Alex has not mentioned his friend lately, which I assumed meant that the hospital resolved the issue. I decided to ask him today (Alex doesn’t speak English, so I used a couple words that I knew, plus some body language) about his “rafiki”, expecting the news to be good. Unfortunately, the tone and length of his answer demonstrated a different reality; I found our teammate Jason and asked him to translate for me. This is what I learned.

The hospital provided no help for Alex’s friend, just the bad news that his kidneys had failed. There are no dialysis machines here, so he was free to go and die at any place of his choosing. So he chose to go and consult the “mfumu” (doctor of traditional medicine, or witchdoctor, depending on your perspective). He prescribed some herbal remedy to ease his suffering before his death.

I hope you are not reading this blog immediately after reading yesterday’s dryer diatribe. Tanzania has much greater issues than appliance selection.

I have searched in vain for an answer to this issue. I have dear friends in the States currently sustained by dialysis. Alex’s friend will die never knowing that there is such a thing as dialysis.

Perhaps, one day, all of our friendships will transcend current barriers. At least that is our hope.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On a lighter note, we have been unable to find a language program in Northern Tanzania that will start within the month. So we have decided to begin individual lessons with a language institute here in town. Dr. Salala, a German immigrant to Tanzania, is known around town as not tolerating language slackers. She will get four hours a week to blitzkrieg Kiswahili into us.