Seminary Autobiography #1

Autobiography – Faith Statement
Steven Biedermann

My present relationship to the church is a healthy one in which we both benefit. Being a college student I don’t live in the same place all year, thus I have more then one church that I attend. When I am with my parents I go to where my dad is a pastor at HTLC, a ELCA Lutheran church in Ankeny. While at school I have attended chapel on campus, service at St. Pauls Lutheran in Waverly and served as a youth director for Zion Lutheran in Readlyn. It is hard for me at this point in my life to point to any one church as my home congregation however, this situation has given me opportunities for growth that I would not have found with a single home church. I find my relations with all my home churches to be mutually beneficial and I am drawn to the unique community of believers at each location. I think all churches have certain obligations to social justice and acts of service as a means of striving to accomplish the great commission. For the most part, churches that I have been a part of have done a good job of this, but I still think we as Lutherans are hesitant on how to share what we believe with others. We are hesitant because we fear coming across as judgmental or forceful. We are called to be bold and faithful witnesses, myself included.

I feel like I am a strong candidate for church leadership. Many of my spiritual gifts lend toward a career in the helping profession. I feel that being a pastor is a particular niche that God is calling me to fill and is equipping me for the role. I feel that I am equipped to encourage people in their faith journey for several reasons. I am a good listener and I enjoy listening largely because I am a patient person. One of the highest compliments one could give me is to tell me that I am a patient person. I feel strong leaders are ones who know when to listen and when to speak. It seems that when people see they are being really listened to it gives them a sense of self-worth. It is my patience which breeds kindness–understanding of the worst of people, of trying to feel their pain. I feel called to help people by being a model of understanding and forgiveness, but also by being honest in my brokenness and doubt. I enjoy liturgy, tradition, music and the spirit of worship. If there were one area of limitation in my journey of ministry it would be my introverted-ness. I am not painstakingly shy, rather being around people does not energize me. I enjoying spending quality time with people but I realize I need time for solitude to reflect and gather myself.

Luther Seminary seems like an excellent place for me to discover my calling, become equipped to serve God and enter into the world of ministry. Like the Luther Seminary website says, “God could use someone like [me]”. I know God could use someone like me and Luther seems like a good place to figure out the details. You have an impressive faculty and course selection to guide me down academic avenues of interest. You also have a nurturing faith community that I hope will both challenge and nurture my heart in Christ. I have been brought up as an ELCA Lutheran and I am strongly connected with their tradition and beliefs, so it makes sense that I would go to an ELCA College and seminary to prepare for ministry in the Lutheran church. I would like to stay near the Midwest for seminary so I can still visit my family and friends in this part of the country, but post seminary I would be willing to travel anywhere I feel God is calling me.

I know I want to be a pastor; the exact details and emphasis thereof will hopefully be explored in seminary and my early career. I do not yet know if God is calling me to urban ministry or rural ministry, assistant pastor or missionary, etc. These are callings I am already prayerfully considering, and hopefully seminary will help in the process. I am looking forward to being in community with people from a variety of experiences in the pastoral field. This will allow me to get a sense of what different professions in ministry are like so I can narrow down my own calling. I do know that I want my future church to be a hospital for sinners. I would like for their mission to reflect the mission of the early church in the great commission. I would encourage whatever faith community I am in to find their identity in relation to the narrative of scripture.

I believe Jesus Christ (the word, the way and the light) is the Son of God and has died to forgive the sins of humanity. I believe in the Holy Spirit as counselor and great advocate for the Christian community. These three, God, God’s son and the Holy Spirit, are revealed in the words of the Bible. For me, the Bible is the Word of God, to be interpreted in light of its historical context and the Church’s teaching. The historical context of the Bible should be read in contrast to our own context in a continuing dialogue. This dialogue is shaped by each generation by the faith of believers of the past. Each generation is asked to define God in their lives, using scripture, faith (heart), Religion (hands) and Theology (head).

I agree with Paul Tillich, who defines faith as, “that in which we place our ultimate trust.” For where your treasure is there your heart will be also. I also agree with the definition of faith in Hebrews 11:1, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Although I have never seen God, I have seen God working in the hearts of those who are to God’s self.  Faith is personal, but transcends the self. It is based on hope and can be both possession and journey. Faith for me is like a work of music. There is comfort in the refrain of music, but much of the beauty can come from variation.

For me religion is the structure of community based on belief. I think a lot of times religion can be as simple as the “human movement toward God” (Barth). Religion is a means for us as a community of believers to express faith in the world. It is the means by which we humans, imagine, live and act our ultimate meaning. I think individual spirituality is a wonderful idea, but it falls short of coming together as a community of believers to support others, and ourselves with the love of Christ.

For better or for worse theology is the reason behind religion. Literally it is the study of the character of God. Theology is important to faith and religion, as it begs the two to define themselves. For me theology is about asking the right questions. I enjoy studying theology, because I feel doing so helps me understand the convictions of my own faith, religion and opinions of God. In doing so I am then able to present God in a way that is applicable to the hearts and minds of those who are in my life.

Given my history, most people would assume I would become a pastor. I come from a long line of German pastors all named Eric Wilhelm (William) Biedermann. Even at a very young age, members of our congregation would ask me if I wanted to grow up to be like my dad. I would normally tell them that I wanted to be an inventor/artist/professional guitar player, but that being a pastor wasn’t entirely out of the question. So for me discerning the call to ministry began at a very young age, even if it was not an entirely conscious one. I was never reluctant about becoming a religion major headed to seminary, but it definitely required some discernment along the way.

I was born near LaCross, Wisconsin in 1986. My dad was a pastor of a two-point congregation there. As a baby and toddler my mother would take me to either South Prairie Lutheran or Northwest Prairie Lutheran, depending on the Sunday. I was baptized at the latter when I was barely a month old. To this day when people ask when I accepted Jesus Christ into my life and heart, I point them to the date of my baptism. Just as I don’t remember my baptism, just so I am not able to remember a time in my life where choosing Jesus into my life was a conscious decision. Jesus chose me and marked me with the water of his new covenant. Throughout my life, I have had continuing opportunities to choose Jesus on my journey. Each one of these subsequent choices on my behalf began with one on God’s behalf. To this day I am still responding to that initial choice of baptism. Since the time of my baptism the renewing waters have repeatedly washed away my sin, saved me and introduced me as a member of the body of Christ. For my entire life, the waters of my baptism will continue to be a special means of God’s grace by which He gives faith, forgiveness and salvation.

I grew up going to Sunday school in Marshfield, Wisconsin. I read my children’s Bible and loved going to our summer vacation Bible school program. I learned about Noah and the flood, Abraham and Issac, David and Goliath and the woman at the well from brightly illustrated books. Sunday school teachers and upbeat songs accompanied by guitar got me excited about the stories of scripture. God seemed like a lot of fun when I was a kid. I believed like a child and lived like a child and had a blast practically living in church as a pastor’s kid. I think those positive memories of my faith as a child are what inspired me to be a camp counselor in my college years. I wanted to share with children the joyful faith I had as a child.

Middle school in Cedar Falls, IA was a very testing time for my faith. I learned a lot of facts about the Bible through confirmation, but, like many middle school tweens, God felt distant and not applicable to my life. My moral ideals and commitment to non-violence made me a target with little to no friends. Although God felt distant, I prayed more during that time more then I had prayed in my entire life. For the first time in my life, I experienced what it was like to be depressed and it is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Through help from my middle school guidance counselor, I was able to re-evaluate negative thought cycles that prevented me from being vulnerable to God’s purpose for me in my life. I also started to realize aspects of my life I had been taking for granted, namely a loving family. Sounds simple enough now, but it wasn’t. Although I didn’t have the words for it at the time, God was teaching me that doubt is a very big part of faith. From that time on, I feel like I have been able to empathize with people struggling with depression and times when things don’t seem fair. More than anything I want a career where I can help people and Jesus seems like a pretty good way to go about that.

I went to high school in Ankeny, IA. There I learned a lot about service and hard work through my youth group, jobs, extra-curricular activities and schoolwork.  My first and most memorable service trip was to a Native American reservation near Red Lake, MN. We painted houses in the hot sun and watched over kids who didn’t want supervision. I saw the Christian faith shaped by Native American tradition and realized for the first time in my life not everyone’s picture of Jesus needed to look like mine. What matters is that he washed people’s feet. Part of the service program at Red Lake was literally washing other people’s feet, and it was strangely one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. Humble acts of service say so much about the Christian faith.

I feel my faith has undergone a great deal of development in my college years. After a year of trying to be an English major at Wartburg College, I found my interests were drawn more to my religion classes. I fell in love with discussing topics such as source criticism, historical context and different types of language used in the Bible. Religion classmates became my friends and roommates. In our free time, we would pontificate about all sorts of blasphemous things late into the night, testing each other’s knowledge of theology and philosophy without stepping on any toes.

I began to search for outlets in which I could share my faith and help other people with their faith journeys. I ended up becoming a camp counselor at Riverside for the past two summers and working as a youth director/music leader for a church in Readlyn during the year. The community at Riverside was very dedicated to teaching third graders through high school students about Jesus by loving them, giving them a sense of a strong faith community then equipping them to go back out into the world. I think one area that camp really helped me was noticing where other people are at in their faith journey. Once I was able to understand where they are and what they believe, I could then continue spiritual dialogue without talking over them or offending them. Through being a religion major I have acquired a lot of knowledge about the Bible, but Riverside helped teach me organize and apply that knowledge so it could speak to the hearts of a variety of people. It was also a place of constant prayer and devotion for the staff—edging on legalistic, but no place is perfect. My job at Readlyn was a wonderful to experience on site experience of what it might be like to be a pastor some day. I was able to better see how my personality and creative skills fit within a church setting though I was dealing with children. I am not necessarily interested in youth ministry as a career, but I think there are a lot of skills that are transferable between teaching children about God and teaching adults about God. If one can put things simply enough that they can speak to the heart of a child, those same words can turn an adult heart to childish belief. There is the old joke that sometimes the congregation will get more out of the children’s sermon then the adult one, but occasionally there is a grain of truth to that.

Wartburg gave me the opportunity to study abroad in Tanzania during the fall semester of 2008 and I came back a little different. As least I see things differently now. It is striking how much abundance we have! I am still figuring out what the experience means to me. While in Tanzania, I was able to worship with the Massai/Waswahili and see a Lutheran church that is growing exponentially and giving hope and common ground to many. Some things that TZ taught me that are relevant to my faith journey are: being joyful in worship, true hospitality, person is people, humility and living simply. These are things that I feel always knew, but Tanzania brought them into the forefront of my conscious and displayed them in a beautiful way.

ID 373 Final

Study Abroad in Tanzania Conclusion
One must first understand cultural differences and why they are different from one’s native culture to begin understanding the heart of a new country, people and way of life. While studying abroad in Tanzania I found myself studying the language to better learn the tradition and culture of the people, which lead me to view humanity in a different light. Really the best way to study any culture is to live with the people you are studying. While in Tanzania I got the chance to live and learn about the culture of two distinct people, the Waswahili people, also known as native Tanzanians, and the Massai, an indigenous people in east Africa that are semi-nomadic.
One thing that the Tanzanians and Massai have in common is a fluid concept of time. It is their concept of time that stands as a foundation for their culture. Pastor Hafferman puts it well, “You [Americans] have the watches we [Tanzanians/Massai] have the time”. Time is much less of an obstacle in Tanzania and is never something of which I felt like I had too little. If it weren’t for the school portion I doubt we would have needed watches. The same is true of the Massai. The concept of getting children to school on time is still new and foreign.
When I was in Tanzania I realized something about time in relation to conversation. It is sort of frustrating that we Americans have to force ourselves to actually have conversations with people. It’s not an introvert thing; it is ingrained in us not to “waste people’s time”. In all actuality time is often one of the best things we can give someone. We have the mentality that people including ourselves most likely have somewhere to be, therefore conversations should be held to a minimum. We will even go so far to make excuses for leaving if we feel a conversation has gone on too long, even if we have no place to be. In Tanzania things seem to happen when they happen. If a church service takes five hours, what difference does it make? Does one have someplace better to be? Is there some better source of entertainment somewhere else? A habit I’ve gotten into the last two or three years of college is seriously asking myself, “Where would I rather be right now?” Almost always I don’t have a good answer for that question. Which is a good reminder to remain in the moment and enjoy things in the present time.
One way that Waswahili differ in the way they view and use time is in the process of kusaidia (greeting). When a person from Tanzania greets a friend or neighbor into their home it can be a pretty lengthy procedure. In the U.S. we like to stand inside and talk to the person at the door briefly to see what they want. I think this might be a habit spawned from avoiding vacuum salesmen and Mormons. Tanzanians on the other hand have different greeting habits. When they hear someone call out “Hodi” (the equivalent to knocking) the host will respond with “Karibu” then welcome the guest and invite them to come stay inside the house. Once inside the house they will greet each other ask each other about their news and visit about a variety of topics. The host might even offer the guest tea, milk or a little to eat. After the a while the host will walk the guest not to the door, but all the way to the edge of the property or bus station to make sure they have company for the first part of their journey home. This process is known and kusindikiza and it is something that I really want to try more in the United State (weather permitting). The Waswahili will often greet each other in the morning before heading to work to see if their neighbor needs anything. If the neighbor needs help with something the individual will do their best to help them before leaving for the day. You can see how greeting a neighbor in the morning could make some Tanzanians late for work.
Another product of the Tanzanian view of time is how they design their prison program. The prisons in Tanzania are more rehabilitation programs then places of walled-in confinement. I found it strange that when we visited a prison we entered through a gate, but after that there was no surrounding perimeter. I guess inmates don’t try to run away much for a multitude of reasons. First, prison life is a really good chance for them to become more educated or learn a trade before going back into the world. Second, they would get caught. Inmates don’t have anywhere to go and they would be chased down pretty quickly. Third, once caught the inmates are punished as a group. Fourth, the prison has really nice facilities. Although 17 sleeping mats are crammed into a room, the criminals have bug nets and quilted blankets–likely nicer then they have at home. I am pretty confident that Tanzania has better prison system then the United States. I think sometimes in the US our government views prisons as economically stimulating. It supplies jobs, (construction, guards, janitors, etc.) in the prison system and dirt-cheap laborers. Some would even say slavery in the U.S. wasn’t abolished… it just moved to the prison systems. Prisons were originally designed for inmates to have every opportunity to turn their lives around. There is a reason they are called jail cells, jails were originally related to the monastic system. The monastic concept was that a person could get a better perspective on society by being removed from it for a time. For Tanzanians prison is a time for the inmate to re-evaluate the direction of their life and develop skills they can use when re-entering society. I think the US frequently looses sight of the rehabilitation aspect of prison life.
When a Tanzanian sees someone and wants to initiate a conversation they will ask how their news is and shake their hand. This happens with just about everyone you encounter in Tanzania because they have the time to do so. Tanzanians aren’t very big on public displays of affection so they are rarely a part of the greeting process. Even if a man and woman are married you most likely won’t see them holding hands in public. Kisses and hugs as greetings and goodbyes are almost entirely out of the question. The older Tanzanian generation frowns and shakes their heads when the younger generation imitates western culture by greeting each other with hugs. Tanzanians hugs are an odd phenomenon, from a western Instead of hugging Tanzanians have developed a pretty sweet handshake. The more firm and complex the handshake the more eager the person is to greet you. Young Tanzanians see people hug in movies and have tried to simulate the greeting, but it just comes across as awkward. Chumba demonstrated the Tanzanian hug and it was one of the more awkward things I have seen. It involved shoulder contact and almost looked like one person is trying to tackle the other. For many Tanzanians intimate displays of affection such as hugs are best left for the bedroom.
Despite different views on public displays of affection, there is a tradition of respect for elders here in Tanzania. Often times when a younger individual respects and looks up to an elder they will ask for a blessing. In order to receive a blessing they bow their head and say “shikamo” to the elder. The Elder responds to this action and places their hand on the bowed head and says “marahaba” in response. I really miss this process of blessing. Often when I see professors or people I respect in passing I want to say shikamo to them, and sometimes still do lightly under my breath. This process is used frequently in TZ and is a strong indicator as to how much Tanzanians cherish their elders. As Pr. Hafferman puts it, “We are all to quick old and all to late wise”. Side note: There are no nursing homes in Massai villages.
With this tradition of respect in mind Massai children are free to explore and learn about things in a very hands-on and free manner. I admire the freedom and responsibilities the Massai give their children. Some would view the responsibilities faced by Massai children as forcing them to grow up too soon. Massai children help take care of the younger animals while the adults take care of the older ones. Massai children in big families also help raise and baby-sit each other from a very early age. I believe these early responsibilities help prepare the children for their roles in the future Massai community. The life of the Massai child isn’t all work and no fun. The Massai children are left to explore, bare themselves to the world and interact with life in a way that comes so naturally for children. The difference in Massai children’s freedom and our own is that it is consistent. When they are in church, the Massai children experience the service in whatever way suits them. If they want to stand up front by the pastor–no problem, they aren’t really bothering anybody. If they want to run around, go for it, it just adds to the excitement of the service. If they want to get partly naked, well… they might cool off a little from the breeze. This freedom takes place with an undercurrent of respect for elders deeply rooted in each child’s being.
With such freedom come problems for both adults and children alike. Tanzanians have a unique perspective on their lives in relation to their problems. In Kiswahili you can say Kila watu wana shida — People have problems (shida-shit/problems in my mind). You can also say Shida zina kila watu — Problems have people. In Swahili things may have people. Problems can be in possession of people… even going so far as to consume them. I think being able to flip flop the possessives expresses a unique relationship between people and their surroundings. Which comes first the person or the problem? I think sometimes it is a cycle.
The way most Tanzanians face their problems is through hope of greater things provided to them by religion. In Tanzania culture and religion are inseparable. Tanzanians have hope for themselves, their families and their country because they believe in something greater then themselves. To find the defining characteristic of religion in Tanzania one must first understand the meaning of the Tanzanian smile. I think the smile is best described by a blog entry I wrote while in Tanzania:
To confuse the African smiling face with indifference to disparity or merely ignorance is to rob it of its meaning. They know exactly the problems they face. They want change. But to live your life focused merely on problems and what needs to be changed is to rob yourself from the joy that is living. The African smile is a welcoming one, a social one to signify they understand you. They understand that you are a person and have problems too, which is the best reason to celebrate life now, together.
For most Tanzanians religion is a given, even if an individual does not believe the same things, they still believe in something bigger then themselves that gives them faith despite life’s problems. There is a law in Tanzania that prevents individuals from publicly defaming the religion of another group of people. This law is not necessarily a reaction to religious intolerance, but rather a product of the culture and the way Waswahili people live life. Tanzania is 40% Christian, 40% Muslim and 10% indigenous religion. Normally people would think that such a collection of Christian and Muslims would mean constant religious tension. This however is not the case as demonstrated by the life of Luka the Christian evangelist.
One day our group of study abroad students went to put a cross of of Luka’s brother Solomon’s grave. Both Luka and his brother Solomon grew up in the Islamic tradition, but later decided to become Christian. Luka is now the evangelist and apprentice of Pr. Hafferman. He is now the father of Solomon’s children because he is more financially able to take care of them then other members of the family. Solomon died over forty days before the cross planting of cirrhosis of the liver. Solomon was a sort of “Johnny Appleseed” of this area of Tanzania. He was a talented arborist who planted most of the trees here at LJS. Everywhere we go people point out Solomon’s trees. The trees he planted are as much of a memorial to him as his actual grave. Unfortunately Solomon developed a drinking problem, largely because he was separating from his wife, which eventually took his liver. His actual funeral was done in accordance to Muslim customs followed by forty days of grieving. Luka has actually been hosting a good deal of his family extended family at his house during this period of grieving, which I think has been adding to his stress. After the time of grieving was complete Luka and Pr. Hafermann planned a Christian ceremony to march Solomon’s cross headstone from Solomon’s house to his grave to placing there. The entire event was a wonderful summation of the religious tolerance here in Tanzania. It was a really big deal that the Islamic members of the family were open to going to the grave and placing a cross, singing hymns and praying with us. As I watched members of Luka’s family go through the parts of the service I had a hard time distinguishing the Christians from the Muslims. Everyone bowed and prayed and sang and recited liturgy together. It didn’t mean that the Muslims were giving up part of their religion to participate, nor were the Christians giving up the heart of their religion in having Muslims in attendance. It was a family affair, reflecting an ideal amount of respect humanity as large should take note of. Normally Islamic women don’t visit the grave of dead relatives, but I think it had a really big impact on some of them that through this Christian tradition they were able to get closure by visiting the grave. After the cross planting we went back to Solomon’s house and ate spiced rice and beans. We as white Christians visited with and ate with native Muslims. No one felt awkward or threatened.
I have never seen cries in the psalms truly lived out until I lived at LJS. There was a man named Sagin who is a student here who prays in a unique and powerful way. He was learning Kiswahili to be a missionary for the South Korean Church. Every morning one could literally hear this man yelling his prayers to God. ABBA!!!! ABBA!!!! AAAA!!!! In his culture people yell their prayers from mountains so that they can break through the demons and get to God. He wasn’t close enough to my room for it to be a nuisance, but I could still definitely hear it. Sometimes it is inspirational to hear someone pouring so much of him or herself into prayer. It also opened up a lot of conversation about prayer within our little community. Jodie, a middle-aged woman from the US, went into the brush before supper two days ago to yell prayers with Sagin. She said she was very self-conscious about if she was praying/yelling correctly at first, but then got into it more, and at the end of it felt very sad. The South Korean said the first time someone cries prayers to God they normally feel sad afterwards. I think it is largely a cathartic experience, perhaps drawing sadness to the surface, recognizing it, and then letting it go. Jodie has had plenty of sadness in her life, but seems to be in the process of overcoming it and is now is an overachieving lay person here in Tanzania. Sagin’s call to worship can be compared to the Massai men and their rhythmic grunts and moans or the Muslim call to worship. All three involve a loud statement of the individual’s faith. We should not forget that crying out via music, prayer, sports, etc. has its place and can be healthy. Prayer especially has a way of getting at the heart of the matter and can transform the inward stuff as a shared train of thought with God.
There is one instance while living in Tanzania where I probably should have screamed, but was too shocked/saddened to do so. When I was studying abroad in Tanzania last semester death seemed much more real. There are a whole host of things that lower the life expectancy to forty including AIDS and malnutrition that allows disease to be more deadly. While I was in Tanzania I actually two people on the side of the road recently killed by cars on separate occasions. The first was laying face down with his head still on the road as bicycles and people passing by swerved to avoid the body that no longer held life. Cars were used to shield the second body from oncoming traffic, but as I glanced back after passing the barricade I was able to see his lifeless body. Those are images that will never leave me. It is hard to tell if the deaths were accidental or suicide. Either way I have been praying for the families of the people that have been killed and the motorists and struck them. Although I do not know them I shared a strangely personal moment with them at the scene of their death. During the time that I saw the two men dead at the side of the road I was taking Swahili lessons and learned the word kufa means to die and kufaa means to arrive. I think the two words probably started as the same words in their Bantu origin then grew distinct later in time. I think many Tanzanians view death not as an exit but an arrival, a beautiful way of looking at a normally finite topic.
In the face of death the Massai children represent so much promise for the future of the church in Tanzania. The example that specifically comes to mind is the Massai children’s choirs. Often these choirs will tour other churches providing their amazing spiritual gift of creative song and dance. It is easy to spot a member of the Massai children’s choir by their dress (see below, normally less jewelry). Their music is so energetic, original and inspirational. The age of the young women in each choir is very diverse. A young girl will enter the choir when she is able to stand up and sing and will generally leave sometime after having children. Without fail they are visibly eager to sing and dance to show their interpretation on traditional African melodies meshed with Christian lyrics. Before the service starts the Massai children start singing. Calling the congregation to worship. Often Massai choirs will imitate each other feeding off the creativity of the other. Often times the choir will listen to a song via cassette tape then create their own interpretation of the song. Most songs sung here during morning devotionals, or church service either have melodies from old Lutheran hymns (drinking songs) or stem from traditional Tanzanian call and response. The Massai choirs always perform using the call and response style. Each song is lead by a song leader picked by whoever knows the song the best. The leader will lead the group through the verses then the entire group naturally sings the chorus. When the Massai choirs sing it isn’t exclusively a performance, it is interactive. If you find a refrain particularly catchy it is likely that everyone will start singing along. Frequently ladies of the congregation will get up and dance or let out a trill of excitement. I think locals in the area are starting to recognize the importance these choirs are having on Christianity here. When we went to Waswahilli worship services the congregations always seemed to be inspired and filled with joy when a visiting children’s choir would perform.
People in Tanzania were poor but smile a lot. Some of our teachers didn’t have electricity or fans in their houses. I knew people that live on less then $5 per week. And it all seemed very normal at the time. I became friends with people in TZ and when I discovered more about their lives it just seemed like a natural thing that they don’t have much money. A lot of people wore the same shirt every day because it is the only one they had. And that seemed normal. Two of my language teachers asked for and received my sweatshirt and belt when I left. I have had multiple people ask if they can have my backpack and watch. I need my watch to wake up in the morning and my backpack to carry things in; otherwise I probably would have given them away.
It is a very natural thing for people to ask for things from you because you have more then them. There isn’t the awkward tension created by economic classes or the extreme drive to be “successful” as an individual. I think these two things take away some of the shame normally associated with asking people for material things because they have more then you. In Tanzania when someone asks you to give them something they own they respect that you have more then they and your right to decline. Giving a gift is just one of many ways individuals both benefit from being friends with each other. Being poor and happy is a tough concept for someone raised in a capitalist society to wrap their head around. Of course if people are starving because they are poor or are not able to afford hospital or schooling costs, then being poor is more than an inconvenience. Something that has been on my mind since TZ are the lyrics of the Notorious B.I.G., “Mo money, mo problems”. I just can’t figure out if this statement is true for Africa or even at all. I think with money comes different types of problems, not necessarily bigger ones. One thing is certain money doesn’t always mean happiness.

Reflecitons on death

When I was studying abroad in Tanzania last semester death seemed much more real. There are a whole host of things that lower the life expectancy to forty including AIDS and malnutrition that allows disease to be more deadly. While I was in Tanzania I actually two people on the side of the road recently killed by cars on separate occasions. The first was laying face down with his head still on the road as bicycles and people passing by swerved to avoid the body that no longer held life. Cars were used to shield the second body from oncoming traffic, but as I glanced back after passing the barricade I was able to see his lifeless body. Those are images that will never leave me. It is hard to tell if the deaths were accidental or suicide. Either way I have been praying for the families of the people that have been killed and the motorists and struck them. Although I do not know them I shared a strangely personal moment with them at the scene of their death. During the time that I saw the two men dead at the side of the road I was taking Swahili lessons and learned the word kufa means to die and kufaa means to arrive. I think the two words probably started as the same words in their Bantu origin then grew distinct later in time. I think many Tanzanians view death not as an exit but an arrival, a beautiful way of looking at a normally finite topic.

Back in the USA

I am back safely in the US after 40 hours of travel. Everything went smoothly. I think return adjustment will be weirder then entry adjustment. I feel a little bit like i traveled to the future and am noticing things I didn’t pay much mind to before. Hopefully it doesn’t take me long to conquer jet lag. Thank you all for reading and commenting and praying and sharing this experience with me. Now if you have questions or just want to hear stories you we can see each other face to face and maybe share some ginger chai.

On my way

i am excited to come back but anxious about noticing things about the U.S i didn’t notice before. things end and things begin. we often noticed the ends of things but rarely notice things changing.

We leave Dar at 11:30 our time (2:00 am US) have a short layover in Amsterdam then arrive in Minneapolis in the early afternoon. After a long layover and a turbo prop flight we will be in Waterloo around 6:30. Then a 2 hour drive back to Ankeny (for me). So basically 2 days of travel. See you all soon. God bless

Stegosaurus

We call these things stegosaurus bugs because they look like little dinosaurs. Rumor has it they hiss at you when you try to kill them. They are a very tough and intimidating bug and are pretty common around here.

We really aren’t doing much these days. The evangelist convention is going on, but we really aren’t required to attend much. We have the feeling if we tried to help we might end up getting in the way a bit. So we are just sitting back and soaking in the African climate so far this week. This evening we will go to the Indian couple’s house for supper. Should be good food and even better company. Their baby Katu had grown so much since we first got here. We watched him learn how to walk; it was pretty neat.

Pre Re-entry

I think coming back to the U.S. is going to be a lot harder then I’ve anticipated thus far. I’ve heard a lot of people can’t even go into major stores for a while after visiting Africa because they are suffocated by all the stuff. We saw a mall at a distance in Dar es Salaam it looked entirely out of place and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It just seemed so strange. I think we have tried to immunize the oncoming shock by keeping up to date with American culture and news. I’m not sure it will do much though. Today as we made name tags for the Evangelist conference this week we tried hyping each other up about things we will do when we get home. A lot of them were just silly little things like playing video games, drinking tap water and playing guitar. It is going to be really weird saying goodbye to people this week as I really don’t know if I will return to Tanzania. Only God knows. Goodbyes in the Midwest seem trite sometimes because you will very likely run into the person again… this is different.

We watched Amistad tonight. I related more to the slaves then to the white people trying to get them their freedom in court.

Peter is still ajisikia mgonjwa. Literally hearing for himself sickness. In Swahili you hear or see sickness. It is malaria and he is on the road to recovery, but keep him in your prayers.

In Swahili there is no “should”. Either you did something or you didn’t.

Luka had us over to his house Friday night. It might be the last time we see his family. It was a great time with amazing food. We all got a little choked up when he and his wife Eme said karibu tena (you are welcome again), because we knew that might not be so. Today his wife Emmy came down with both malaria and typhoid. Hopefully she has a speedy recovery

I don’t know why Eme is making such a funny face. It was really dark in their house at this time, I am surprised this picture turned out, I could barely see who I was taking a picture of. Their family let us join in their nightly family devotions. It included a song and a wonderful prayer by luka. I left my camera on and have the small devotional on video. We used the light from my camera to read the text of the song. It is the song that we sing every time after worship services, but we are still rusty on the verses.

Karibu Zanzibar

The moon dressed up for us our first night and used planets for her earrings. Appropriate since she is the symbol of Islam and Zanzibar is 95% Islamic. The boat ride to Zanzibar was extremely hot and long. I was drenched in sweat for a couple hours before we could find a spot to stand outside the boat. But we all made it there in one piece. We spent the first night in Stone Town, Zanzibar at the Narrow Street Hotel.

The knife painter took us to his place which had amazing views of the city. He has this eccentric multistory studio all to himself.

I didn’t really get a chance to see him at work, but the sights around his place were really interesting.

This picture just feels like what I imagined Zanzibar to be

The painter’s most recent work. He also does amazing brush work painting Zanzibar doors and tingatinga. His tingatinga is good, but it is of a newer style and isn’t as authentic.

This guy is a young Norwegian Christian pastor in Zanzibar. He is thee guy when it comes to Christian/Muslim relations. His life work is devoted to creating peace between the two especially on the island of Zanzibar where Christians are sometimes frowned upon. Zanzibar sort of plays by its own rules when it comes to religion. The courts are based on Islamic family law and the government sponsors Islamic leaders for each area of the island. It was inspirational to see how much this man strived to love his Islamic brothers despite many negative encounters and a growing negative perception of of them. He and his wife run the shop pictured above. Christian and Muslim women get together and sew clothing and make jewelry for the shop. While they work they become friends and discuss life and their faith. The shop’s name is upendo which means love in Swahili (pictured above). We were able to talk to him for quite a while in the workroom of the shop. One thing he said really struck a chord with me. We as Christians are uninformed about the Islamic faith and Islamics are misinformed about the Christians. Islamics learn about Christians in a fundamentalist twisted manner in madras (Arabic school). Christians never really learn about Islamics. I think this is a large root of the misunderstandings between us. He also talked about the different languages people can use when they talk from different faith backgrounds. First there is the language of the head, which is represented by theology and can often lead to confrontation. Second is the language of the heart, which is represented by prayer and concern for others and for peace. Third is the language of the hands, which is represented by work. The language of the hands is represented very well in his store. If people of different faiths and accomplish something concrete like clothes side by side the begin to dream of what more they can accomplish. He told a story that represented the language of the heart very well. The Christians and Muslim leaders both felt like political leaders were not representing their common interest of peace very well. So they held a meeting with all the political candidates and Christian and Muslim leaders. Both religions took turns praying in their own ways for peace to be represented in the government in the future. Our Norwegian pastor friend said he could feel the holy spirit on the meeting and felt like the political leaders were impacted by it.

This is an Old Anglican church that was built on the old slave market (note the mosque on the left). The slave market along with the spices grown by slaves on plantations were the staples of the Zanzibar economy for many years. They would sell slaves from Africa to all over the world. The Anglican church started by buying slaves at the market then give them a choice of living with them or having a free life. Imagine the choice of deciding what slaves go free that day. During the 19th century during the abolition of slavery the Anglicans bought up the slave market square and built this church there. We spent the first 20 minutes of our tour in and old slave chamber in the basement of the church. They built the church so that the alter is where the old whipping post used to be. The church also had beautiful stained glass of the Ethiopian eunuch. The church also has connections with the famous Stanley Livingstone, an explorer of Tanzania. By the pulpit there is a cross made out of the wood of a tree that his heart was buried under.

We fit in quite a bit of shopping while we were in Zanzibar. I picked up a few gifts for friends and family. I was able to buy a few tingatina paintings after studying them for my art class. (see lower left giraffe for an example). It was nice because many of the artists did the paintings in their shop, so the person selling me the artwork was often times the artist. I could also sort of seem them at work from time to time.

We went on a tour of a spice farm. This was a private spice farm so it had almost every verity of spice, whereas the government run spice farms mass produce one type. On our tour a kid would climb up trees and retrieve leaves and spices for us to smell. Our guide would have us try to guess the spice before he told us more about it. It rained almost the entire time, but it was still a really good tour. I had no idea so many spices grew on trees! Some of the spices that we saw/smelled included, nutmeg, vanilla, cinnamon, cloves, cardamon, ginger, coffee beans, cocoa. At the end of the tour they had us try all sorts of tropical fruit. It was the first time I had starfruit, it was like nothing I had ever tasted, it was pretty good.

Nutmeg… apparently it can get you high

This young lad could scamper up and down trees as quick as a monkey. Here he is modeling a plant that ladies used to use for lipstick.

At the end of the tour they gave us hats made out of leaves. They also gave Sara a basket and rings and ties for the men.

We spent the next two nights on a hotel on the beach. It was really different 1. Being pretty much the only Christians around 2. Being treated like tourists 3. Being treated like white people who didn’t know any Swahili. Everyone would greet us by saying “jambo”, which is Kenyan Swahili and a test of if you are a tourist or not. We would answer back “sijambo” signifying that we knew at least some Swahili. We would then exchange more and more greetings until we started using slang. Then they would get really excited that they could talk to wazungo in Swahili. This happened a lot on the beach, but then the person would end up trying to sell you something and you couldn’t get rid of them when you wanted to.

The beach itself was beautiful and full of beautiful life and seashells. Our group spent a lot of time walking the beach looking for pretty seashells. It was easily the most enjoyable beach I’ve been to even though there were scattered showers for most of the time.

The place that we stayed at had delicious food. On our last night Tim and I both ordered some King prawns in lemon butter sauce that were really tasty.

Kids playing soccer on the sand at sunset.

Bicycle versus feet, wonder which will win

Sea cows. We also ran into Massai from the Morogoro area. It was like running into family

The boats ran on man power, long poles and sails

Peter was brave enough to pick up a sea urchin. Careful not to step on them!

Watch your step!

When we walked out into the ocean for a while we found a seaweed farm. They just have ropes attached to posts and seaweed grows on it. Our area was protected by a reef so it was relatively shallow all the way out to the reef.

We visited near the reef when Peter, Tim, Luka and myself went snorkeling. We took a primitive sailboat a couple kilometers out into the ocean where there were some big clumps of coral and lots of tropical fish. It was definitely the highlight of my Zanzibar trip. It was like watching the movie Finding Nemo, but it was real. I actually found nemo, and dory, and red spiked starfish, and fish of all sorts of electric neon colors, blues yellows and reds. At first we used our snorkels more as straws then breathing devices, but then we got used to how it worked. It we ever got in trouble we could just stand up on a big piece of coral and adjust our masks. The ocean floor was probably only 20 feet below at the deepest. At one point I was pointing out a jellyfish to Luka when we were standing on a piece of coral, then the jellyfish turned and headed straight toward Tim’s face! You could tell the exact moment Tim saw the jellyfish. I don’t think they were too dangerous, but we didn’t want to find out. From that point on Tim kept running into jellyfish while the rest of us hardly saw any. The sun came out for our journey and left us with a little sunburn, not too bad though. I can see why people want to be marine biologists and spend all day in that sort of environment, too bad my camera isn’t waterproof.

Sunrise as the fishermen go out to sea

Yet another picture you might find hanging at the dentist’s office

As we drove back to Stone Town we ran into some monkeys on the side of the road.

For much of the trip Peter was feeling sick, but was still able to participate in about everything he wanted to. We just found out that it is malaria, that twice for him for those of you keeping score at home. After our boat ride back he was dehydrated and low on electrolytes. He turned to Tim and said, “I think I am going to faint”. Then he put the cap back on his water bottle and blacked out for a few seconds. The man next to him caught him and Tim made sure he didn’t hit his head and still had a pulse. He revived in a few seconds and was helped to some nearby shade where he recovered more fully. We are glad it is malaria because now we can treat it, he should be feeling much better in the next few days.

This weekend we are getting ready for the evangelist conference that will be taking place this next week. All the evangelists, pastors and their wives and kids will come from the Morogoro area. It will be nice to be able to see all the evangelists one more time before we leave. Also it will keep us busy and minds of going back home so soon…. One week from today!

Zanzibar

I am in Zanzibar without access to the internet until Thursday. I’ll update you on my travels upon my return.

Maskini – poor person

People here are poor. Some of our teachers don’t have electricity or fans in their houses. I know people that live on less then $5 per week. And it all seems very normal. I became friends with people here and when I discovered more about their lives it just seemed like a natural thing that they don’t have much money. A lot of people wear the same shirt every day because it is the only one they have. And that seems normal. Kidegi and Moreto have dibs on my sweatshirt and belt when I leave. I have had multiple people ask if they can have my backpack and watch. I need my watch to wake up in the morning and my backpack to carry things in, otherwise I probably would have given them away by now. It is a very natural thing for people to ask for things from you because you have more then them. There isn’t the awkward tension created by economic classes nor the extreme drive to be “successful” as an individual. I think these two things take away some of the shame normally associated with giving people material things because you can is just one of many dimensions of ways you both benefit from being friends with each other. It is tough though. I mean is it even that bad to be poor in the first place? Of course if people are starving because they are poor or are not able to afford hospital or schooling costs then being poor is more then an inconvenience. Something that has been on my mind during my time here are the lyrics of the Notorious B.I.G. “Mo money, mo problems”. I just can’t figure out if this statement is true for Africa or even at all. I think with money comes different types of problems, not necessarily bigger ones.

In the bigger picture Africa should not be as dependent on foreign aid. Western money has kept many a corrupt dictator in power longer then they should be. It has also put the interest of some countries focused on the will of where their money is coming from. “He who pays the piper picks the tune”. But this is all on a more global view of “charity”. Some people thrive from aid, others become dependent on it… just like in the U.S. It all depends how it is given and moderated.

-The United States is 22nd in giving international aid, as compared to other countries, only giving 16 cents for every 100 dollars earned. We have promised the UN 7% for foreign aid and are currently giving 1.6%.

Luke 12:33 “Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys.

Christian socialism has made a lot more sense since coming here.

Friday Sara and I went to a Swahili service and Tim and Peter stayed home sick. (They are better now). It poured and poured lots of rain on a church up on a hill with beautiful scenery. The temperature dropped very quickly into the lower 60s or lower. You could see the dark clouds on the horizon, feel the wind picking up, smell the rain and just sense that everyone and everything was holding their breath for the rain. Once it started raining in sheets you couldn’t hear anything but the rain crushing down on the metal roof. The pastors tried yelling over it, but I doubt many people could hear them. Things kept moving on as normal though and eventually the rain became a dull roar. It was really neat to watch baptisms in such torrential rain.

Cool lighting thanks to the approaching rain.

There were a lot of children and they were all bunched toward the front of the church.

Rain! Farmers in the area had corn (mahindi) that was dying because it was so dry. They were very happy to see the rain come and rescue their crops.

The German Lutheran missionaries liked to build churches on a hill as a symbol for the town to look up to.

Today I spent the day not really doing much of anything but enjoying the rain, and food, and naps. It was a really nice day off. Oh yeah I helped Peter kill a scorpion.

http://www.everybodygoto.com/2007/10/12/what-people-eat-around-the-world/

Jumping Massai

The riverbed. If you dig you will get water suitable for washing clothes or for cattle to drink.

A massai man herding cattle to drink from the riverbed.

And his little helper

Some shy kids spying on us from the safety of their tree

As the kids get older they take care of older cattle

Up out of the watering hole

Father teaching his son how to herd cattle. They asked for a picture, I obliged

I really like the tree in the background of this picture. We hung out under it for a while. It also serves as a choir loft later.

Pretty handsome looking bunch.

I became pretty close with this guy. After the service we walked around holding hands as the Massai showed us where they want to build a their future church.

The “lunch table”. I am pretty sure the Massai eat whoever their close friends are, these friends (family) are likely to include people in their age group, but are not limited to age brackets. Kind of like Thanksgiving?

Playing mancala waiting for the service to start.

The women/choir came singing and dancing in and performed from the risers.

One of many young men in attendance.

Mr January. First installment of hunky Massai men calendar… for Sara

This older Umchungaji got up and made a passionate speech about how proud he was about this young growing congregation. I only understood a little of it, but it left me a little teary eyed.

Lots of baptisms today. This was a Massai warrior probably about 17 years old

A good handful of mothers and their babies were baptized. First the mother, then the baby. You can see the next pair in the background.

Ala Baba, na la Mwana, na la Roho Mtakatifu

I doubt the water was very cold. Massai bless children by touching their heads. Compare to the traditional actions of baptism.

Making the sign of the cross

After baptizing, Pr. H. looks each person in the eye and says “welcome to the family of Jesus” and people applaud and trill their tongues.

In your head and in your heart.

It was interesting to watch so many new Christians take communion. You could see on their faces an array of emotions, from hesitant, to contemplative, to relief. Some also used humor to make the situation more comfortable for them. Some of the men would talk to people as they were communing. I don’t know what they were saying, but I think they were joking about what the experience was like so they could find out more about it via humor.

The men watching the women take communion. Communion shifts are not designated to age or gender groups, they just end up sectioned that way sometimes. Pr. H said some more of these young men were ready to come up for communion, but we were moving too quickly trying to get the service wrapped up before the cows came home.

After the service the men circles up and started humming hRRRRRRm, hRRRRRRRm and bouncing their bodies to the rhythm. It started off as a show during our dinner, but grew to be much more then that.

Then they started jumping, each one trying to get their head higher then the other.

Huzzah!

One of the village elders cheering the Massai jumpers on.

Sharing the sights

The trees continue to surprise us with with the color and verity of their flowers

Tiny little bugs help the flowers break open their buds. (Not pictured that I can see)

The rose garden where I sometimes read scripture at sunset. It is sort of out of the way, you have to take a back path to get to it. It is actually pretty close to the water tower

View from the rose garden

A “Christmas tree” these thrive especially on the LJS campus. They come in all sorts of orange and reddish shades.

A weeping white flower that reminds me of sea creatures mixed with wedding.

Quick reminder:

http://peter-h-watters.blogspot.com/

http://timintz.blogspot.com/

http://saras-semester-study.blogspot.com/

Habari za weekendi

Friday we went to Luka’s house for supper. It was really neat to see the “typical” Waswahili lifestyle. We were also finally able to see his entire nuclear family gathered under one roof. His family includes four adopted children from his brother Solomon’s death, Eme, his wife and Kristen their 10(?) month old baby. Eme fed us incredibly well, it was sort of like an early Thanksgiving for us. The Americans and Luka ate in the living room while Eme and the kids ate in the kitchen. That is just the culture and the way things normally happen. The typical Tanzanian housewife is normally pretty quiet and submissive around guests, Eme is already pretty naturally shy so she fit that role well. We were fed rice, meat, beans, mashed steamed potatoes, vegetables, pineapple, mango, jackfruit, Pepsi, water, etc. It took us a while to work up the energy to get out of our seats. Luka’s house like a lot of houses in the area doesn’t really have electricity. I think he might have solar power for his shower, but our only lighting for the night was either carasene lamp or an individual solar powered desk light. When it gets dark in Tanzania so do most people’s houses. The house was built by Luka over a couple years and is sturdy with fancy looking tile floor. He also showed us a chicken coop he built by the house that day, very fine work. Luka builds fast and builds well. He said from the time the ground is broken to finished product, it can take only three weeks to build a church.

As I look back on Saturday it seems like a did a lot more then I thought I did. My plan was to rest for the day and maybe get over my cold a little quicker. In the morning I studied Swahili and listened to music and e-mailed a bunch of people. Sometime after lunch, during my nap, the power went out for the rest of the day. So Tim Peter and myself watched The Office on his laptop and had guy talk. Before supper I went out and had God time in a rose garden in a secluded area on the LJS property. After supper when it was getting dark Tim, Peter and I took a walk out to a field a little past the rose garden and water tower. On the way we ran into Pr. H, Luka and the night watchman. We couldn’t understand anything the night watchman said, but I think he figured out we were LJS language students. When we got to the field we laid out a blanket and watched the stars come out for a while. After that romantic experience I joined Florian, Natalie, Anna and Sara on a candle lit porch. Anna brought out her guitar and I played contemporary worship songs, Christmas music and figured out the chords to some other pop/rock songs. While we were all just humming along to a certain song Florian noticed a scorpion crawling in the direction of his family jewels. He hopped up very quickly (upesi) and smacked it to death with his flip flop. It was just a baby scorpion, and the ones here are not life threatening. Miho one of the Japanese language students stepped on a scorpian a while back and was limping around for a good week after that. Now i wear sandals in my room and check under my covers at night.

Today we went back to the region I have previously referred to as Kilosoa. More specifically the name of the Massai village is Mabugari. Good luck finding it on a map. Along the way we picked up a young evangelist at Sokonie. For those of you that don’t remember Kilosa/Mabugari is the town that has experienced both bloodshed, thievery and discrimination curtsy of the nearby Swahili people and police. The last time we went to deliver food, it felt incredibly eery. This time the mood had changed. Massai men were mingling among the Waswahili towns people. The women and children were no longer in hiding and more willing to sing during worship. Pr H preached on the text where Jesus says “I say to you no longer and eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth”. You could see the men in the congregation listening intently and nodding their heads in agreement. A good sign. Generally people looked more at ease and more ready to smile. What a difference two weeks can make. Two hundred out of the four hundred cattle have been returned. Still more needs to be done though. Definately. Most of the stolen goats will likely never be returned. A reason we were shocked to be fed goat after the service today. Even though the people are still recovering they fed us very well. This stems from their tradition of feeding all guests very well because a lot of times people would of had to walk for days to get to a village. By the time they reach their destination they are starving. We continue to be fed like we are starving even though we drove their in the comfort of Pr. H’s car. Picture the type of hospitality Jesus and his disciples received (or at times maybe didn’t recieve) walking from place to place.

During lunch at Mabugari Pr H. told us that the Massai really take the parable of the midnight visitor in Luke 11 to heart:

And he said to them, ‘Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, “Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; ⁶for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.” ⁷And he answers from within, “Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.” ⁸I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs. 9 ‘So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.

After the service there was a small auction of some corn, a chicken and some soap. It wasn’t much but it still classifies as a harvest festival, a testament to a people who are willing to sacrifice, celebrate and welcome guests even in the midst of hardship. During the auction we heard the screams of a woman come from the church. It was very high and sounded like squealing tires at times. It wasn’t overly loud, but definitely noticeable. When we were done with the harvest festival the Pastors and evangelists prayed over the woman as she screamed and convulsed for some time. The four of us entered the church along with a bunch of children during this time. Oddly enough Sara and I ended up playing with the kids a bit in the church to keep them distracted. I pulled my lips up with invisible string and taught a couple kids how to cross their eyes…. all while watching the woman out of the corner of my eye. Peter and Tim helped take down the alter garbs and communion cushions. All of us were silently praying as we occupied ourselves with familiar tasks just to be doing something. The pastors had everything under control and I don’t think any of us were afraid at any point, all we could really do is pray from the sidelines. Which is ok. Eventually the woman calmed down down and “surrendered herself to Jesus” according to Pr. H. When we were back in the car we talked to him about the event. He said this lady had done this sort of thing before but this time he got the feeling resolved differently. Previously in times when she was not well she had said things such as “I want to kill my child”. I personally think she was likely suffering from anxiety attacks from post partem depression. Pr H. agreed that it was perhaps not an evil spirit possession, but would not go to far as to rule out the possibility. Anyway it is something we are all still processing tonight. Tim Peter and I had a conversation an hour or two ago about how we just wanted so much to have the woman realize how much love Jesus had for her.

On the way back we saw two dogs taring a rabbit to pieces. It was pretty gory and I did Sara the favor of taking a few pictures of it on her camera. I doubt she has looked at them yet. I haven’t taken pictures lately because my camera battery died and there hasn’t been electricity until now.

Also on the way back we saw our second dead man on the side of the road. Peter and I saw a man who had very recently died on the side of the road a few weeks ago. The first is probably an image I will never forget. Bicycles and people were serving to avoid his newly dead body as we rounded the corner. The one today was between two cars who had stopped to protect the body from cars coming from either direction. We only got a glimpse of it. People here walk right along the edges of the highways here, making it next to impossible to tell if the death was accidental or suicide as a passerby. Pr. H did tell a story about a young man who was committed  to ending his life and laid down in the road right in front of his car. He was able to swerve and miss him then  parked his car sideways on the road so that no one else would be able to hit him. The average life expectancy in TZ is forty two.

2 Samuel 14:14 Like water spilled on the ground, which cannot be recovered, so we must die. But God does not take away life, instead, he devises ways so that a banished person may not stay estranged from him.

As the spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words so will we pray for an inclusive God because of our hope of things unseen.

Siku hizi- these days

Kidegi has been our teacher for this week and last week. He has been traveling with us to Massai villages. He is really nice to have along as he speaks Kimassai, Kiswahili and English fluently. He is a teacher of both language and culture.

For offering people brought six goats a cow and several chickens. Note that this picture was taken inside church. It was quite the crazy, messy situation for a while. Pr H had to close the service in prayer over the noise of the animals and the people trying to control them. It is a good thing they do offering at the end of the service

Massai women carry their children on their backs, tying them on with a katengi

This little guy was famous for swallowing a nail last week. He is quite the ham and a bundle of trouble.

I will miss this

Finally brought out the frisbee

They caught on pretty quickly.

I am coming down with a petty bad cold, but with rest and liquids i should be healthy again soon.

Epiphanic space

“Epiphanic spaces are places of parousia, places where the divine presence is embodied in the very stuff of the world: in a building, in music, in the word, in paintings, in a meal, in statues, in the Book, in the embrace of a friend or a stranger–all wrappings of the divine” — The Book of Concord, trans. and ed. Theodore Tappert (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1959), 587

What make churches unique epiphanic spaces? What does the place in which we worship say about the way the way we encounter deeper reality i.e. God? What defines this space?

It is all begins with a poetic concept. Holy spaces are poietic. The poetics of space designates what the Greek word poiesis conveys; it refers to the “creation,” to the making or production of a space. Whatever space, man made or nature made has potential to be holy ground. The holy ground is the wrapping and experience is the gift. The wrapping might add to the presentation, but in the end, rest, shelter, healing and reflection all to better know God, are some of the true gifts experienced in worship.

Ideally such holy, poetic places should strive for certain things. 1. That the wrapping reflects the gift. 2. A place of safety where people can trust that God is with them and in turn are able to express themselves freely. 3. A product of the community which breathes life to the Holy Spirit 4. Prepares people to be sent back into the world

Since each holy space is a product of its community it makes sense that holy spaces will differ from place to place. But that does not mean that we can not learn from each other’s holy spaces. Here in Africa even if our church gathering is outdoors the benches and stools are set up so that we are facing each other. This helps with a problem stated well by Ingmar Bergman. He says “[we] stare into each other’s eyes and yet deny the existence of each other”. I don’t find this as a problem in the Tanzanian Lutheran Church. I think it is much in thanks to a holy space that is set up so that you are forced to look at the other people. As people take turns participating in worship you are encouraged to interact in whatever way you feel comfortable. Not in ways that are convenient or timely. This recognization of each other as individuals is also reflected when everyone leaves the holy area shaking each others hands and singing an upbeat song. To me this symbolizes that although the holy time is over you still recognize God in each of these individuals.

In the United States what is it that motives choirs to sing from a balcony in the back out of sight? Are we not comfortable enough to face our own community? Is it community if you are not comfortable looking at each other and recognize each other’s existence? Or is it our overdeveloped sense of humility? Can our own humility get in the way of expressing ourselves freely?

In Tanzania guests get the place of honor, toward the front.

These are all things I was thinking about today during our Massai worship service today. I sat for three maybe four hours in a small, hot simple church with lots of people crammed inside. The epiphanic space created was not of my native community, but I felt its effectiveness. I don’t think it is because I have become jaded and accustomed to my own traditions, and therefore find new ways of worship refreshing. Perhaps the effectiveness came from the joy of the people juxtaposed to their problems, or the simplicity of it all. Or it could be something as simple as the soulfulness of their music. Whatever it is Tazanian Lutherans know how to create a wonderful, poetic environment for experiencing God

Some thoughts from this blog were aided by an article “Wrappings of the divine: location and vocation theological perspectives” by Vitor Westhelle from LSTC

Here is a poem I am still working on. I keep coming back to it when I should be studying

The petchitor consumes and I become free
Wet earth is coil and horizon is magnet
Forever progressing perchance digressing
Neither to nor from, but in
Tempo balances breath
Mountain matches sky
Solitude more then escape
Through the bright broad land
Trees bend in prayer
And my prayer is their prayer
Morning breeze tease and please
Making damp hair stand on end
The world is a newborn lamb
Dirt the odor of sweet potatoes
‘Neath the big bare heavens
Peripheries blitz and blur
Salt drips hit lips
I grow chatoyant
And primitive
And free

Hot prison visit

So Africa can get really hot sometimes. Today was a really good example. In the prison church we visited today it easily got up to the upper 90s to 100 degrees Fahrenheit. There were six choirs, a baptism, confirmation service, long sermon, communion, two offerings, plenty of hymns and lots of people in attendance. I actually didn’t mind it that much I just wish I would have dressed better for the heat. I should have worn a lighter shirt and pants that don’t show sweat stains. Good thing tomorrow is laundry day. Anyway both the Massai choir and Swahili high school girl’s choir were very talented and fun to watch. I thought the high school choir was exceptionally good. They gave me chills from time to time. But as the service went on you could sort of see everyone including the choirs begin to wilt a little. Poor Tim is feeling better but still recovering from Malaria. He was nodding off during the service and turning whiter as it went on. Between the gospel tenancies of the high school choir and the extreme heat sometimes I felt like I was in a Baptist church in the southern U.S. Note to America this is how to rehabilitate those who are prison. Worship with them, treat them like equals, give them opportunities not walls.

Afterwards there was an auction. The Americans (Pr H included) ended up buying a lot of cloth possibly to make clothes out of. I wasn’t really interested and sat on a nearby bicycle. A young man my age came over and explained that it was his bicycle I was sitting on. He told me (in Swahili) that he was an Evangelist named Philemon from a nearby Massai village that we will be visiting Tuesday. We made small talk about how hot and sweaty it was as we walked to the place where we would eat lunch together. There I described to him where in America I come from and when I am going back. We talked about Obama’s victory and what that might mean for both of our countries. After talking for a while longer we learned that we are both the exact same age (ishirini na mbili). I showed him and his Massai friend Solomon pictures and video clips from earlier that day. Solomon was really pleased with how the Massai choir looked (likely his home congregation). Philimon and I exchanged contact information and I gave him an Obama sticker. He said something about maybe getting me something Massai for my neck or wrist when we visit. We’ll see what happens. Then he asked if I could have my backpack when I leave. This sort of question isn’t really viewed as rude in their culture. I am someone who has more then he does and might not need the bag in the future. Unfortunately I need to use the backpack for carry on (on the airplane) and and future backpacking that I do. I don’t think I did a very good job of describing this point to him, but i think he got the gist that i needed (nahitaji) the bag.

Now I am all showered and fresh, time to tackle some Swahili homework before bed.

The inmate choir. One of six choirs in attendance this morning

Service wouldn’t be complete without at least one baptism

Confirmation ceremony. From left to right: Swahili girl, inmate #3741, inmate #1827, Massai boy, Swahili girl , Swahili boy. What is the thing they all have in common? I’ll give you a hint he was once a prisoner himself.

Each confermand was presented with leis.

If you use too much hair jell the lei can get caught in it

Me and my new friend Philemon the evangelist. We bonded over lunch. We are going to his village Tuesday!

My favorite part is when the older lady jumps in a shows them how to dance.

Nothing like sweet gospel music to sooth the soul and send warm chills down your spine

The prison we visited today is especially intended for young people. It it the same one that we visited earlier this trip. It does not have walls around the perimeter. The prisoners helped Luka build the choir we worshiped in this morning.

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?

For other parallels see the life of Paul.

Note to self: being a prison Chaplin wouldn’t be a terrible job.

Prison Wedding

Yesterday we went to a wedding at a prison. It was for one of the prison guards and his fiance. It was a really energetic ceremony. A lot of their friends seems to be quite they partying crowd. They even had a live band at the wedding! The band was made up of a keyboard which produced drum loops, two electric guitars, one electric bass and a gospel choir that could have blended in at most baptist churches. All the equipment and set lighting for the video camera were plugged into one power outlet. I was sitting by the outlet and I told Pr. H if things got out of control he could just give me the sign and I’d hit the power. We didn’t stay around long after the wedding because they only start serving drinks after the pastor leaves. The procession after the wedding was almost Marti Gras style. Drums and trumpet led catchy melodies as people sang, danced and waved their arms. It was a jiving, jumping train centered around the wedding car leading the couple to the reception. New Orleans would be proud. As a matter of fact this is probably were their tradition stems from.

Luka found a praying mantis

Wedding party on the right. Left to right: best man, groom, bride, bride’s maid

Groom and bride silhouetted

The macho groom. (macho means eye in Swahili)

The beautiful (rainbow in Swahili) bride

An abnormally large child. We nicknamed him Buddha. Not something you normally see in TZ

Wedding party dancing into the sunset

Amazing Massai Visit

This guy was looking at Sara and me for most of the service like that. We didn’t know weather to laugh or be a little creeped out.

Delicious beads

There were two Massai children’s choirs and one made of Muslim converts. This was one of the Massai children’s choirs

This guy was deaf, but his Massai village was very inclusive and for the most part didn’t treat him like he was any different. I continue to be amazing how the Massai treat people with mental and physical disabilities. He worshiped with us and knew when to clap from the vibration of the drums and watching the people around him. We sort of connected with him because we both had the disability of not knowing what people are saying most of the time. He really liked to have his picture taken.

“Karibu tena” come again. I sure wish i could.

Today was just an all around really great day. It started with vanilla uji (expensive and delicious) and fresh mangoes. I also got to talk with Lynnea on skype this morning.

We went to a massai village and when I stepped out of the car you could feel the warmth of both the temperature and the people. The air actually smelled like nag champa incense thanks to a certain type of trees growing there. We greeted the elders and the choir. I have noticed that lately we are more active in greeting people then being greeted, which makes for really good impressions from the start. Over chai I visited with a really friendly older evangelist. I was able to understand and reply intelligently to most of what he said to both our surprise. When the service started shortly later the opening song was led by an evangelist named Paulo who looked and acted a lot like MLK.

I know videos are sort of cheating when it come to blogging, but I just had to share this. The song just kept building and building. Then we would transition into another song without breaking stride. Note our deaf friend to the left of the Massai choir.

One of the Massai children’s choirs shows us how to break down. See if you can spot the “traditional” Massai drum.

After the service they had a prayer of healing during part of which Peter and I did magic tricks for the kids. At one point I made a coin “disappear” into the atmosphere travel through in air into a kid’s head and out his ear. They were pretty gullible and easily impressed, a winning combination.

Orphanage

The car pool after a days work of transporting the material for making a church

Tena! Tena! Again! Again!

Sara acting as a swing. She was sore today.

Those are a little off center. Goofy kid

I think this little guy was found on the street. He has no known relatives

This little guy was hungry, unfortunately none of us were lactating

Watching the sunset together

One of many little monsters who loved to pull on Sara’s hair

Avert your eyes if you are prone to adopting on a whim. ^That is Natalie one of the new Swiss students

Walking back to LJS via the railroad

I am healthy! I woke up this morning after having a miserable night with a high fever. Way to go immune system mixed with prayer. This weekend is prison weekend. We are all going to prison…. to visit the inmates and hold services. We are going to a Massai village tomorrow.

I have missed people more than things. I miss my family and friends, but not so much that i ache too deeply. I have moved around quite a bit in my life and have spent time aboard before so maybe there is a bit of developed compartmentalization there. I do miss you all, but not so much that it is inhibiting. I really enjoy living simply as I a do here, hopefully I can keep that up when I come back. I think I am going to leave all my clothes here. I have enough back at home.

Orphanage

We went to a catholic orphanage today before supper. It was a lot of fun and I will post pictures of us being human jungle gyms later. But for now I think I am getting sick and need rest. If i still feel this way tomorrow I think I will get tested for malaria. Tim has malaria too.

Also we interviewed Kidegi about Massai culture today instead of studying Swahili. More on that later.