Whirlwind Weeks

So, I was left behind in Arusha for 5 days, but the time flew by far too quickly, and before I was ready, it was time to leave and travel to Moshi, where I was to meet up with the students and John and Megan when they came down from their visit to Uru Shimwe.  All of John's reports of their time in the village were laudatory of their activities and the stunning views they occasionally had of Mount Kilimanjaro looming over them.  Unexpectedly, the bus showed up on time for me in Arusha, and once we had loaded up all the luggage the students had left behind, we were on our way.  However, the group in Uru Shimwe had a more typical schedule and didn't even start down to Moshi until after we had arrived there.  My bus driver was none too pleased about needing to wait an hour and a half for his passengers.

Once we were all reunited, we took off south, driving to Lushoto, which is an former German colonialist town in the Usambara Mountains.  The drive was to take five hours or so, and we stopped along the way to visit a sisal farm we had toured in 2012.  John thinks sisal is an important part of Tanzanian history and economy, and the students seemed to go along with this passion of his.  They got to see the vast field of sisal plants, learn how it is cultivated and harvested, watch the processing and drying of the fibers, and take samples for themselves.  Two students were even given long lengths of finished rope.

Then, we drove on toward Lushoto and further up the mountain to the Irente View Lodge, where we would be staying.  Unlike 2012, this year the rainy season was in full force, so the winding, narrow road with blind curves and steep drops on the left side was often semi-coated mud from the runoff from the hills to our right. I white-knuckled it clear to Lushoto, when an even more severe problem presented itself: the main road was completely dug up and people kept giving the driver different directions on how he should continue. Every time we followed directions, we ended either on another dug up street or a dead-end.  All of us got a very thorough tour of Lushoto, but the driver was getting more and more frustrated.  Finally after maybe five or six dead-ends, someone gave us directions that seemed to work.  However, the road got muddier and muddier until finally I thought we would be stuck outside for the night.  By then, we were so late that the hotel called to ask where we were, and within another 15 or 20 minutes, we arrived safely and were checked into our nice rooms with hot water, western toilets, electricity, and bottled water.  It was like getting into Heaven.

Susan and Steve Vinton from Village Schools International (www.villageschools.org), who were to be our leaders for this retreat, had already arrived and soon joined us. As I had expected, the students quickly bonded with the Vintons and were eager listeners and questioners during the sessions they led on Friday and Saturday morning.  These sessions focused mainly on how the students perceived their experiences thus far and what model works best for "helping Africa."   By now, most students knew that almost all NGOs spend their money on themselves and their employees and very little is actually used for actual projects here.  Also, almost all established NGOs come and tell Tanzanians what they need to do instead of listening to the Tanzanians' ideas or letting them decide how to do a project.  By now, it is no wonder that many Tanzanians simply expect foreigners to come in and pay for everything and then end up with no sense of ownership or understanding of how to do things themselves. The model of Village Schools is totally different in that it was started by two Tanzanians, who still are its top officers, and the Vintons work for them, not vice versa. Nothing except advice is given to a village which wants to have a school: they themselves must make and contribute all the bricks or carry all the stones, buy all the cement and wood, and then build a minimum of at least six classrooms before VST (Village Schools Tanzania, the in-country name) will return and supply them with metal roofing, which is the only item they provide.  Since 2005, 22 schools have been completed and are currently operating with full classrooms with Tanzanian teachers, and, I think, 5 more are under construction. It is one of the most incredible success stories I have ever come across in Africa.  Now, they have even been asked to extend into Malawi and are beginning to build their first school in that country.  In addition, the VST schools consistently rank among the highest schools in national exam scores, competing against the very rich, elite private school, even though almost all VST students are from very poor, remote villages and many are AIDS orphans.

Though our hotel is at the very top of a high mountain, we never saw the incredible view from the top except for a few brief glimpses as we ascended.  We were constantly in--not even above--the clouds and it rained almost nonstop.  The students could not take the scenic hike those in 2012 had gone on,  and even though it cleared some on Saturday, when we went to the Irente Farm for lunch, it continued to rain almost constantly.  I rode on our bus to the farm, but within a few minutes it was hopelessly stuck in the mud, so I ended up hobbling the rest of the way to lunch.  It was the longest distance I have walked since I got my fake ankle in 2011, but I made it without falling.  After lunch, the students decided that since the bus couldn't take them into Lushoto as planned the would walk there through the forest.  They were told that it would be a 40-minute walk, but, of course, it took more than twice than long.  Villagers had shown up to help dig and pull the bus out of the mud, so the driver was able to get down into Lushoto in time to bring the students back to the hotel.  Meanwhile, I sat at the farm's store/cafe and had a wonderful big press full of incredible coffee, which I shared with two others while we waited for Steve Vinton to walk back to the hotel and come rescue us in his car. The coffee definitely made the initial long walk to the farm well worth it.

Our scenic view in 2014

Our scenic view in 2012

We had another session with the Vintons Saturday evening after dinner, and then Sunday morning everyone was packed and ready to leave by 8:30--sort of.  The students, John and Megan loaded back into the bus to continue on to Dar es Salaam, but I joined the Vintons for the long two-day ride back to their home at Madisi School, which is two hours (on very bad dirt roads) south and a bit west of Mafinga.  However, we had one more opportunity to be with the students when we came upon their bus by the side of the road with a flat tire.  Actually, by the time we got there, the tire had been changed, and everyone was getting ready to re-board the bus and get to the bottom of the mountain where the driver could get the tire repaired. So, we said another good-bye, and we were all on our ways again.

Watching for traffic and changing the tire

Left Behind

On Saturday morning, all the students gathered at Kundayo, saying good-bye to their host families for the months of January and March, as they prepared for all the new adventures still to come.  Because from Arusha, they were going up into the foothills of Kilimanjaro to spend five days in a Chagga village, they took only light luggage with them and left behind their larger suitcases or duffle bags to be stored here at Kundayo until this coming Thursday.  Then, I will oversee the loading of all the luggage and boxed lunches and board the bus myself for the drive to Moshi, where we’ll all be reunited and begin our trip toward Dar es Salaam.  On the way south, we will stop at Lushoto, which is high in the Usambara Mountains (http://www.irenteview.com/gallery/index.htm), for a weekend retreat with Steve and Susan Vinton of Village Schools International.

Life is very calm and quiet for me here at Kundayo without John, Megan and the students.  I am enjoying the extra reading and quiet time I have by myself, but I do miss the company of the others.  However, the staff here are very solicitous and make sure I am just fine almost every hour on the hour. They also spend much more time just chatting with me when I am on the terrace.  Yesterday, Rebekkah, the head housekeeper asked me about my house at home, so I showed her a photo.  Her eyes opened wide as she made the typical “Awwwo” of surprise and then asked, “Is school for your students”?  I tried to soften the collision of 1^st and developing worlds by telling her that while I know our house is large, we try to make sure we share it with others.  She then said, “Is nice.”

Because so little of note is happening around me these days, I thought I would copy some of the email reports I have gotten from John.  The group is staying in the Catholic bishop’s house, which is a very large McMansion place with perhaps 10 bedrooms right on the slopes of Kili.  He rarely stays there since the diocese HQ is near Lake Manyara.  So, his brother, Adolph, and sister-in-law, Ava, are the custodians and now the hosts for our group.  Here is John’s report of yesterday, the first full day in Shimbwe.

“It is now about 10:00 p.m. and I just now got to email. We have had a very full day. This morning we walked to church, taking a short cut. We walked through banana groves and corn patches. We passed a number of streams and a small irrigation channel that the Chagga people are famous for building. Because the streams are in the valleys and the people and farms are on the ridges, the Chagga begin their irrigation channels far upstream where the bottom of the valley is actually higher than the top of the ridge further down where they want the water.

Church was from 11:00 to 12:30. The people at Shimbwe village are mostly Catholic with a smatterng of Lutherans and some Pentecostals. The Catholic church we attended was built in 1959 although some of it, for example the ceiling, was just completed this year. Although the service was in Swahili, I was able to follow much of it, and I certainly enjoyed the singing and the electric organ. The students really liked the service, but only Kristin, who was baptized Catholic, could take communion. They only served the wafer to the congregation. The priest, Father Hubeth, explained to us later that since the wafer is the actualy flesh of the living (not dead) Christ, the blood is part of the wafer, for no one has ever seen living flesh without blood. While that reasoning seemed a bit strained, his follow up comment that with so many people it would be expensive to serve wine, especially since some of the cups were broken, was not a lot better. His final justification--that serving wine in a common cup raised health concerns--seemed more like the real reason. Most of the Whitworth students had never been to a Catholic mass although they noted similarities with the Anglican service in Zanzibar. I know that our long-ago Reformed and Mennonite theological ancestors thought all the genuflecting, incense bruning, and heroldry were high popery and unbiblical, but I find the ceremony and engagement of all the senses appealing. I kept thinking our church could use a bit more drama. As I later said the the students, Presbyterian services are often about as exciting as a committee meeting. We have stripped out the drama and left only the abstract and intellectual.

After church, the priest invited us to his office for chai. Father Hubert is relatively young--he completed his studies in 2016--and this is only his second parish. He talked a bit about his background and education. As all priests here, he studied philosophy for 4 years and theology for 3 years. While it is great to have such welll educated clergy, it also means that it is hard to get enough priests. From the Father Hubert's office, we walked over to Mama and Baba Tesha's house for lunch. Mama Tesha was dressed in church finery--she told me she never dresses up like that when she is in the States--and served a wonderful lunch. We had chicken, a beef stew, rice, mbogambogaa (veggies) and greens. I told her she was such a good cook she should give up her school and start a restaurant. The students ate until they were stuffed, and there was still lots and lots of food left over. I told Father Hubert, who was invited as well, that it reminded me of the feeding of the 5,000 where so much food remained.

After lunch, we went back to the church office, where the students asked questions. Ruthie pushed Father Hubert about women in the priesthood. He gave the orthodox line about women playing a most important role because as mothers they are children's first teachers. He also emphasized all women do in serving the church, such as cooking at church functions and helping the poor. I'm not sure his anwsers sastisfied Ruthie or the other girls. I was glad no one asked about gay marriage.

Because it had been raining when we were at the Teshas and also at Father Hubert's office, we could not take the shortcut back to the bishop's guesthouse. The path would have been too slippery, and our hosts feared people would fall down. Therefore, we took the road back and the walk took a bit more than half an hour instead of just 10 or 15 minutes. We passed the Shimbwe village center, which consists of a bus stop (sign painted on a building), several small shops, and a cafe where one can buy drinks. Adolph, who was walking us home, told me he owned the shop and the cafe. We may stop at the cafe for sodas after our hike tomorrow.

Back at the bishop's house, the students had a couple hours to rest and write in their journals. Then we came back to the living room, where we talked about the Catholic service and where I gave the first half of my lecture on mainline Christianty. I got them all to come on time by promising them pieces of candy that I said you had purchased for them. They all thanked you and said hello. In part of my lecture, I talked about how missionaries often tried to separate Africans from they own society and culture. I told about your exprience with Netty Berge and the importance of Xian names. I also talked about the time Elmer Neufeld went with a missionary to visit some project. When they stopped for lunch, Elmer asked where the lunch for the African driver was, and the missionary told Elmer that Africans don't get hungry. Elmer noted however that when he shared his lunch, the driver seemed quite hungry. The students could hardly belive such things had happened in my lifetime, and even Megan had a horrified look on her face when I told that and some other stories. I did also emphasize that there were many, many truly wonderful missionaries.

While waiting for dinner, we played 2 truths and a lie. Everyone had a great time. Dinner was beef stew, spaggetti, rice, fried potatoes, and veggies. Afterwar.ds, one of the young men who is assisting us gave a demonstration of how Chagga hull, grind (mortar and pestle), roast coffee, and brew coffee. He used an "African kitchen" (a fire, 3 stones, and a cooking pan) to roast and then boil the coffee. Everyone got a chance to pound the coffee, both to hull it and to "grind" it. The coffee he poured in our cups was quite dark, but very light and smooth tasting. He is selling packets of organic coffee from the slopes of Mt Kilimanjaro for 5000 TSH. [about $3] I'll buy a packet or two for you, which you can either use or give as gifts.”