On Tuesday, March 5^th, I spent a few hours before lunch helping Emma sow his mihindi (corn) seeds on his shamba (farm). I’m not entirely sure how many acres this farm of his is. It sits behind our house. If I had to guess, I would say it is between one to two acres, but I don’t really have any clear idea. The point is, is that I played the farmer for a few hours and I liked it lol.

Emma contracted a group of three Tanzanian laborers to set a line using a string and two pieces of wood to mark the rows and dig holes. Emma and I were tasked with going behind them, after they had finished a row, and dropping two to three seeds into every hole. From there, we covered the holes with the dirt that had been laid aside as the hole was made. We used our rain-boots as field-boots for the farming expedition.

The seeds were covered in pink dust to protect them from insects until the rains come and the seeds germinate. It was a hot and humid day. We worked quickly and seeded his entire farm. In high school, I spent a summer working on an apple orchard. I picked a lot of weeds, graded a lot of tomatoes (gah they can spoil quickly and get real nasty fast) and watered a lot of beds of flowers. This was my first time sowing seeds.

We are technically in the middle of the heavy rainy season. So far, we have had one hard day of torrential downpour type precipitation. It seems to me that Monduli could be in a bit of a drought. Fingers crossed for some stormy cloud formations materializing soon. Not only do people’s livelihoods depend on it, but the food base for the entire country is at-risk. Food scarcity is no joke. Earlier this week, we ran out of water for 48 hrs. Pray for some moisture and precipitation here in Monduli. Please. Asante (thank you) !

Sable Square. Where to begin with Sable Square? Sable Square is another mzungu hangout a little way outside of Arusha, on my side, traveling into town on the Lower Road. The Sable Square complex consists of two grocery stores, a gym, a brewery-esque space (Tanzanian equivalent), a few restaurants, a shop for buying jewelry and various other, different, consumer goods, a pharmacy, a safari company and most importantly, not one, but two, coffee shops.

The two cafes, Butter & Scotch AND Msumbi’s, are what draw me to Sable Square. The one, Butter & Scotch, has a French, smooth jazz vibe. The flow of the coffee house entering from the front take you through an entry room with a couch and small table, the largest room next door through an arch has various different types of seating options and then an outdoor seating area that looks out onto a fenced-in area that has Grant gazelles and a strange, pre-historic crane type bird that is there on the rare occassion. They play jazz music, have solid coffee (I crush their hot & iced lattes), a super choice brownie with orange rinds, and an out-of-this-world burger, that I’ve gotten twice. I love Butter & Scotch. It is an escape. A refuge and a place where I can recharged my batteries heading into every week.

Msumbi’s is the other café at Sable Square. It has a different vibe. It is smaller, one room, with a square seating area with six seats, a long-table with seats on the side  when you walk in and an outdoor seating area on a narrow patio. It is more of a come-and-go coffee shop. People get their coffee products to-go and bounce. I however, considering the 45 minutes to hr daladala ride, prefer to come and stay for at least two hours. The cost of serious discomfort, lack of personal space and sweating is that you make the most of where you’re going by staying there for a while. The biggest difference between Butter & Scotch and Msumbi’s is that Msumbi’s doesn’t play music. It is a fabulous reading spot. I also once had a delightful conversation with a one Ralph Williams (a long-term missionary in Monduli Juu) about culture, communication styles and generally made stories with one another.

I’ve stopped going to Compassion International on Saturdays due to the isolation being too brutal there, after a week of that nonsense at Maasae Girls, and have started going to Sable Square essentially every Saturday. It is part of my weekly routine and I am so thankful that this place exists. I’m not sure what I would do without it. Being able to get away from my community, the people and Monduli for a few hours is a God-send. Thank God for Butter & Scotch (new as of the start of last November) and Msumbi’s.

Let’s talk books. The options for entertainment here in TZ are fairly limited, at least where I am in Monduli. Some of the more obvious options for leisure-based fun include walking/hiking/running, watching Netflix at the top of the hill in the office, going into town via daladala OR reading. I read a lot. Since the last newsletter went out (Jan. 15^th), I’ve finished a fully complete, unabridged edition of Les Miserables by Victor Hugo, Tess of the D’Ubervilles by Thomas Hardy and War & Peace by Leo Tolstoy. Les Mis was a 1,450 page mammoth. War and Peace came in at ~950 pages. I read Les Mis in six weeks, War & Peace in four. Tess of the D’Ubervilles is significantly shorter than both and was subsequently consumed in two weeks.

Quickly touching on the value, worth and merit of each of these peerless books (aside from Tess. I did not much care for Tess. Too sad. V depressing), we’ll begin with Les Mis. Earlier in this YAGM experience, I read Hunchback of Notre Dame for the second time, also by Victor Hugo. I’m fairly certain that Hugo wrote Les Mis after the Hunchback and it shows. The writing is better, the dialogue is less formal and stiff and the general tenor of the book carries and resonates better. It is easily one of the best books I’ve ever read. The ending is a bit dour, with Jean Valjean sacrificing himself as perusal, but wow. Me oh my is this a book worth reading! Cosette is delightful. Marius is a bit moody and commits an egregious mistake towards the end of the novel that will forever cloud my opinion of him. Little Gavroche, the Parisian street child provides humor and steady comedic fodder in the drama. Inspector Javert’s relentless, obsessive pursuit of Jean Valjean and the general enforcement of the law is fascinating. His dogged chase of Valjean throughout helps to move the plot along in the novel and is heart-pounding at-times i.e. his pursuit of Valjean through the streets in Paris, before Valjean loses him when he climbs a wall and escapes into a cloister.

The heroine in Tess of the D’Ubervilles, Tess Derbyfield, is extremely admirable and praiseworthy, but her allotment in life is brutal. Hardy does Tess poor turn after poor turn. It’s tough to read, because Tess is so blameless and good, but the plot in the story continually showers Tess with deprivation, shame and misery. Yikes. I read Jude the Obscure the end of 2018 here, and the protagonist in that novel too, Jude, is consistently dealt bad turn after bad turn. Hardy comes across as a bit of a pessimist in his novels. I haven’t read his poetry, of which he is better known. Perhaps it’s of better quality. His dialogue in Tess, Jude and The Return of the Native (read that two falls ago in Winston as a Fellow) is all a bit forced and awkward.

Finally, War and Peace was fantastic. This was my first-time reading Tolstoy and I now understand why he is widely considered and regarded as an all-time great, classic author. Can confirm, I will be reading his other iconic work Anna Karenina, before too long. The curious thing about the setting for W & P too was that it is set in the early-19^th century i.e. Napoleonic Europe & similar to Les Mis, Napoleon is running around, doing his thing, causing mischief and stirring up trouble. There’s a fifty-page scene in Les Mis on the Battle of Waterloo, as well as a significant chunk of text in War & Peace, dedicated to another important battle of that time in Europe called the Battle of Borodino, where the Russians retreat, but the French spirit is broken. I feel somewhat intimate and acquainted with that time period now, after perusing the pages of these two books.

Tolstoy creates a rich world using Russian bourgeoisie and their affairs with one another and their relationship with the various different conflicts between Alexander the Great and Napoleon in 1807 and 1812. The spirited Natasha Rostov, world-weary Andrew Bolkonsky and idealistic Pierre Bezukhov form the nexus of the story. Pierre was my favorite character from this work of fiction. It is not quite a novel or an epic, but something in-between. Fabulous book 😊

In closing, the written word is one of the most dependable, wholesome and fulfilling form of entertainment that I have access to here. Consequently, I read for at least an hour a day, on average. I started Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray earlier this week. It will be read over the course of the next few weeks. Stay tuned for another book update down-the-road. HA!

This was a special day, because it materialized in the span of a few days’ time. Meaning, it happened fairly suddenly, without a whole lot of foresight or planning. The highlights from this trip included seeing my colleagues Sean & Aisling + my country coordinator Alex.

I travelled to Sable Square & got a coffee while waiting for Alex to pick me up with Sean & Aisling in tow. Two birds, one stone. Msumbi’s + Friends. Righteous.

From there, I got to experience Tembo Club for the first time. Note: Nearly a month before Emma and I were successful in making that happen for him (he?) & I! Lol before getting in the car to head up the road to the lunch spot, we corralled a standing table in the middle of some type of mini-festival that was happening on the inside portion of SQ and had a beer there before leaving for lunch. The afternoon hang concluded with us finishing back in that same spot at Sable Square where Alex treated us earlier to libations, this time purchasing mildly melty ice cream cones for us.

I have to take things one week at time here, so an event like this, which came together the middle of that week, real impromptu like, was a blast. It was good to see Alex, Sean & Aisling.

The first weekend of January, I had the opportunity and privilege to visit the Wensel family. The Wensel family consists of Lena, Patrick, Susanna, and Gavin.

If the name ‘Lena’ happens to stick out, or rings a bell, it is because she is one of the people from the MS-TCDC group that was so special to me during the two weeks I was there. This is the place where I was exposed to the basic, fundamental, building blocks of Swahili. The ELCA had us enroll in a two week, tailor-made, beginner Swahili course there shortly upon taking down in TZ while they figured out our site placements.

Lena has a bright laugh. This laugh, coupled with the quality of conversation she brings to the table, all contribute to helping to infuse any and all places she happens to grace with her presence with light and melodic sounds of warmth and joy.

Lena happens to also be a missionary, a long-term missionary, with a commitment of at  least three years. In comparison, she makes my short-term missionary commitment look puny. HA!

Her primary sending agency is Christian Veterinary Mission. She has a training and background as a vet. The agency while they’re here in Tanzania is Christian Missionary Fellowship. They plan to renew after this year. Wow. The missions life seems to be a good fit for them and their family! So fun, and very impressive.

After getting the inside scoop from Lena regarding a delightful little café/bistro at the Sable Square compound called ‘Butter & Scotch’ outside of Arusha, in route coming from Monduli (with a name like that I reckon it’s somewhat difficult to be anything but airy and pleasant and delightful. HA!), we arranged for me to be picked up there. This place has what I imagine to be a French vibe. They play smooth jazz and other mild music.

The Wensel’s, with a friend of Gavin’s in-tow, Luke, came and picked me up direct from Butter and Scotch, for us to go to a friend of theirs named Jude house that she has been house-sitting for quite some time now. This residence happens to be one of the nicer ones I’ve ever been to here in TZ.

Lena and I made what came to be a strategic decision to sit on the backyard patio area, in the lounge furniture there, for what turned out to be most of the evening. We caught up, drank wine, and were privy to a ridiculously choice dinner spread, chef-ed up mainly by her husband Patrick. The man can do wonders with meat.

After dinner, I continued to sit and converse with Lena, Patrick, and Jude. It was a special night with grown up, substantive, rich conversation. The original intention or rendezvous centered around the idea of a game night. With that in mind, we finished our visit at Jude’s friend’s house (lol) with two rounds of Codenames. This is a super fun game and worth checking out if you are a game’s person.

Back on the Christian Missionary Fellowship (CMF) compound, Lena and I shared a cup of tea together before each retiring to our sleeping quarters. The next morning, I had breakfast with Patrick and Lena. We had pancakes and talked about far out concepts having to do with reality and the extension of life by inserting these consciousness chips of sorts into the base of your neck. Patrick is a bit of a jack of all trades and knowledgeable about a lot of things. He has a mechanical engineering background, but then also contracts himself out to do programming work for businesses. He’s super cool. No surprise, considering how fantastic Lena is, but still. Right on.

Eventually the little ones came down and we spent some family time with them. As children do, Lena and Patrick’s little ones got a late start to their day. HA! The Wensel family visit concluded with Patrick and I going into Ngaramantoni (town outside of Arusha where they live) to do some shopping for his son Gavin’s birthday party. His son was turning 13 that upcoming week, but they chose to celebrate that day because of his actual birthday falling square in the middle of the following work week. Tough. Young Gavin officially left his adolescent years and transitioned into the life stage that is being a teenager. AH! So fun, so exciting, so scary for the parents lol.

Again, I cannot say how rich and refreshing and life-giving it was to spend what amounted to less than 24 hrs (HA!) with these people. Their children are perfectly well behaved and a delight to be around. They are self-resilient, self-reliant, respectful, and conversationally competent. They are the ideal archetype for what are good children.

Of course, this does not originate from nothing, and is an extension and reflection of their parents. Rest assured valued reader, I will be paying the Wensel’s another visit before too long. Praise Jesus for there being such decent human beings, specifically Americans who know my culture and who happen to share similar values and hold similar opinions to me, not so terribly far away.

The last weekend of December, Emma and I went to ‘The Sending’ of one of his friend’s bride outside of Moshi, Tanzania. In Maasae culture and tradition, the week before the wedding, the bride to-be participates in a ceremony where she is metaphorically ‘sent’ from her father’s home, and received into the home of her future husband.

There is an MC present, who coordinates the various stages of the ceremony and keeps the process moving along. It seems as if he or she is also usually responsible for providing speakers and getting a DJ. Every entrance of someone is marked by the intro of a different track. If someone is not speaking, then there is music being pumped through the sound system.

 

The bride starts dressed up in a modern fancy gown. Towards the end of the ceremony, she exits stage right and changes into traditional Maasae dress. At the beginning of this whole shebang there is a mini-church service; family members from both sides of the family are introduced, a minister says a few words, and the lady of the hour is blessed.

From there, a few of the highlights from the second half of the ceremonies included a toasting, where the right half of the seated, invited guests, the VIPs if you will, got up and made their way around a smaller select group of important persons and clinked glasses with them. Another enjoyable portion of the evening included a rotating ’laying of kangas’ (thin cuts of cloth – can be used and worn as a wrap for ladies or as a blanket/shoulder wrap for men)  portion of the festivities that was fun.

I was given a kanga to drape over an old gentleman due to coming as Emma’s plus one, and Emma being the ‘Man of Honor’ for this particular ceremony. SO being Emma’s guest, I was able to have one special, singular role and participate in the evening a little there. Note: The man of honor for the sending is not also the man of honor for the wedding ceremony day. Strange. I’m not sure why that is.

Finally, the time came for food. They had butchered a large goat and roasted it to perfection. The spread was large, as it had to feed a cool two hundred people. Generally, I’ve noticed that these large, special celebrations & occasions are punctuated with a meal at-the end. I think the way these wedding ceremonies are made possible is by crowd-sourcing funds (every gives a little to pull these events off, and in-return, the company returns the favor when ‘your’ time comes). What I’ve inferred is that part of the deal for donating and coming includes a delicious meal at the end. These events are also multi hour long shenanigans, so the meal time comes and goes; people are hungry.

The travel to Moshi was intense. In-total, we had a three to four-hour drive there, and the same thing coming back. Tough. The home stretch up to the family home where the send-off was being held saw us taken up a road that a car had absolutely no business going up. I have seen personal automobiles taken up and down some insanely poorly kept, pot marked, hard-packed dirt roads; using the word road very loosely. It is wild the places a four-wheel vehicle will go/has to go upon necessity. The drives weren’t a whole lot of fun. I experienced a good bit of discomfort in the knee areas. All the running I’ve done over the years; the negative consequences have already started to present themselves in sensitive knees and a ginger back at the age of 24. Tough. So it goes.

On the way back, our sideview mirror got taken off as someone passed too close on our right. We had to pull over on the shoulder, and the man who was acting as our chauffeur had to cut the last few cords off completely off that were holding the mirror on by a thread. Tough for the owner of the car. He took the ‘news’ i.e. the hit and run, rather well, all things considered. He got back in the driver’s seat and we continued on our way, having made very little fuse in the process.

We got back into Arusha, specifically Il Boru, where Elisante’s family home is at midnight.We stayed there for the night. It was a long day of travel that began with a bodaboda shuttle into Arusha at 7:45 AM. Always a bit tough to start the day with an action-packed, super squeezed, no personal space, ride into Arusha town. Overall, it was a cool experience. It was my first wedding send-off. Peace and blessings on Elisante and his bride, who got married that next weekend.

The first weekend of December, Emma, Fikiri (a math teacher at MGLSS), and I went to the [region] immediately bordering the Arusha region to the west. Emma had been invited, and tasked with being, the primary speaker and one of the main donors for a rural church build in the Galapo (?) area. We left late Saturday morning, and got home late Sunday evening. It was a wild 48 hrs or so and a long journey. I experienced my first ‘coaster’ experience ~ Tanzanian Grayhounds/mega-shuttles.

 

While there, the parish pastor who invited Emma (Elisante) provided us lodging at his house, as well as had a meal prepared for us that evening. What was memorable about that first night was (i) the bonding I got to do with Fikiri (awesome guy) inside the house with Emma in the den area (sebule) before transitioning outside; the room was overrun by flying beetles once we turned the lights on. Our downfall as it turned out, and what prevented us from staying there for theoretically the rest of the evening, were the open windows. So it goes.

Bugs looooooove the electric light source. Why? I don’t know. I really have no idea, but it sure does kill my vibes; thinking specifically about how BUG-zillas fly at the windows sometimes while I am using it in the evening up at the office, trying to get in, flying at the incandescent bulb hanging from the ceiling. Tough.

The open windows led to the (ii) memorable activity from that evening, i.e., a most fabulous 1.5 hrs spent outside under the skies. It was a starry night with a delightfully calm and peaceful evening temp and feel. Being completely forthright, Emma and Fikiri were being mostly big phone guys, so consequentially, they were not super present, but for myself, taking in the stars and thinking, pondering what it meant to be here in Africa, reflecting on what was God trying to say to me in the here and now, that was significant. I came to no definite conclusions, but it was a joy to be there that night.

The next day, we had a cool 4 hr church fundraising event. Thank goodness I brought Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens for the last hr. One can only translate and have maybe 20% of an idea regarding what is going on, for so long. A beautiful bodaboda (motorcycle taxi) ride back into [Galapo area town], brought us close to our time for departure. We took a private van back into the Monduli area (four across in the middle where Emma and I were. Classic super tight fight on Tanzanian transit), transitioning to the bed of a low-lying pick-up truck for the last 25 minute drive into Monduli proper. I bought us a carpet to put under our kitchen table at a roadside stop; home décor, super important.

Our house is poured with a concrete floor, so there is a need to wear flip flops in the house to mitigate the firm surface of brushed concrete on bare foot. In addition to that, there is also a need to lay down carpet where possible; hence the roadside, highway purchase. I’m still imagining scooping a third carpet as a runner of-sorts. We’ll see what happens there.

God was with us from start to finish. Emma and Fikiri were the big donors and supporters of this fundraising event for sure. Emma and I made out with a rooster and hen for future consumption at some point. Plus, we got some killer pictures back at the house before leaving. One must document one’s travels; the human memory can only do so much, is fallible, and does fade with time.

Seeing another region, experiencing a few different forms of transport, and making memories with Fikiri and Emma, as well as just myself, compiled the highlights of this trip.

On December  3rd, I had to say goodbye to a woman named Bibi Kay. Her actual name is Kay DeWeese.

Kay is an 82 year old woman from Hawaii. She is originally from the West Coast, born and raised in and around the San Francisco bay area. She spent some time in the mid-West (is Indiana mid-western? Does the Sun Belt count as mid-Western?), but lived most of her life, out West in California. In the late 90s when she moved to Hawaii.

Bibi Kay has been coming to MGLSS for a decade now, to teach the incoming Form I students, so Pre-Form I girls. The Pre-Form I girls come the end of September, and stay up until a week before Christmas. Kay has gotten into the routine of leaving early December, spending the rest of that month and the first half of January with her daughter and her daughter’s family in Raleigh, NC, before continuing on her homeward bound journey to Hawaii.

Kay was an immense comfort and exceedingly pacifying form of dependable, steady, enjoyable company when I first came to MGLSS. I came to this school on October 2nd. Kay and Natalie arrived in tandem the weekend before. While I was adjusting to life at MGLSS, Kay acted as a stalwart and companion during a period of time of great flux, change, and overwhelming variability.

This woman is the definition of someone who has lived a morally upright life. She lives out the Gospel; she combines ’talking the talk,’ with ’walking the walk.’ She is an inspiration. Kay is a virtuous person and has impeccable character. She grew up religious, has remained religious throughout her life, and bares out her days shining forth the radiant love of God on all she comes into contact with.

Kay is a little hard of hearing, but at the age of 82, I think that’s understandable. Heck, we’ll all probably most of us be in a similar situation come 82 ourselves, if not worse shape. HA! She’s always had a heart for children and a passion for teaching. While in Indiana, with her husband starting a church plant there as pastor, she got her PhD from Indiana University Bloomington in education.

The two months that Kay and I were together at MGLSS were a glorious two months of compatible relationship building; the amicable union was fresh, budding, exciting, and conversationally substantive always. She was someone who I sought out once to twice a week to go over to her guest house on campus and have tea or simply talk.

At a time when I needed a friend, Kay showed up. In a way somewhat similar to my ‘Ode to the Roomie’ section from last cycle’s newsletter, I give thanks for having Kay for the time we had together at MGLSS. She is missed by not just me, but everyone at MGLSS. All the best Kay. Take care. God bless. Until next time.

 

The final piece of my weekly routine consists of Compassion International every Saturday starting around 8:30 AM until 3:00 PM. This is a program that Monduli Lutheran is involved with that provides breakfast (chai ~ tea & mandozi ~ Tanzanian doughnuts) and lunch, plus educational content, to underserved or at-risk children in the community.

These at-risk little ones live in broken homes or with their grandparents, where food isn’t secure or dependable for the bibi (grandmother), much less that senior citizen and little one, or plural little people. The educational content has four sphere or areas of content; biblical studies (bible), cognitive, environmental, and physical.

There are two class sessions in the morning, with time for chai in-between. After the second unit, the kids break for computer lab, choir, or basket weaving at noon, until lunch around two. The timing for lunch is a super loose thing. Everyone goes home after lunch. Emmanuel (my mentor & housemate) and Elia (his friend & choir director) co-teach a class of about 20. I observe and assist where possible. I am learning the art of being as opposed to doing. Consequently, I observe much.

The mission of this program and form of outreach is completely good. It is an honor & a privilege to be able to be involved in an activity such as this one. God is good. The people doing His work being truly special indeed.

Classic Emma being involved in yet another noble and virtuous form of ministry & type of social good and outreach.

 

One of Emma’s class periods includes the tutelage of Form II (now Form III. HA!) Biology students. Apparently you move up with your students as they go along in school. Interesting system. There are roughly 30 young Maasae girls n this class. These students would be the equivalent of freshman in the United States. They are now ~sophomores. They are well behaved, significantly better behaved than our unruly youth at that same age and life stage back in the States, and want to learn.

I think that has been what I’ve found most striking since being in this educational space and setting. The fact that these girls recognize what a privilege and opportunity it is to go to school and get an education. Especially considering some of the backgrounds and situations that these girls are leaving back home, i.e., running away from forced/arranged marriages to old Maasae men who they’ve never met.

The enthusiasm I’ve seen for learning, and then the respect and attention that comes with that as the girls listen to lectures and engage with the teacher, has been a real treat and joy. It actually makes me nervous thinking about pursuing an educational role back in the States, and potentially having to deal with rampant apathy and lack of motivation or respect. Eek!

In closing, the last interesting observation I’ve made since interacting and being around these young ladies is that in so many ways they are older and have been given more responsibility, than their counterparts and peers back home. The patriarchy is incredibly strong here. The effects of that are seen from an early age. Children are expected to work, to help cook and clean, to grow up fast.

But then in other ways they are more naïve and idealistic and sheltered than our early teenagers as they start their high school journey. The global worldview and access to media and content and general life lessons that are the foretelling of the end for childhood innocence are less present here. Maybe? The juxtaposition is striking.

To be fair, I could be very wrong, due to being at an all girls boarding school for Maasae women in a fairly small town, so my purview of the Tanzanian social scene, as well as child rearing environment, is small and skewed. But the girls do seem so young so often here. Again, it is a very strange contrast. To come across as old in some ways, and so childish in others.