I have to admit that back in Spokane I have come to think of myself as post-church in part because of all the division and squabbling about who is or isn’t a Christian and whether or not the teachings of Jesus are all that important in our political decisions. However, here in Arusha, I find myself eager and excited to attend Arusha Community Church every Sunday and would never miss it when in town. It’s a church composed of the largest diversity of nationalities, colors, and theological views imaginable, and yet everyone gets along and obviously cares for one another. I think this cohesion is mainly due to their genius in not having a pastor or any hired staff; as they say, they are a church run by committee, so either they cooperate for the common good or they perish. Every Sunday, there is someone different in the pulpit; consequently, some sermons have been superb, some good, and occasionally there is a clunker. But far more important than the sermons is the gathering of people, so many of whom I have learned to know and love.
This morning, the Sunday School children sang some special songs, and some of the older ones read the scriptures. I was once again impressed by how many children were there, and I could identify not just Tanzanians but also children from Kenya, Uganda, the Netherlands, Scotland, and Finland. A lovely young woman from Uganda gave the sermon, and my good friend, Linda, was the worship leader. After the service, we all met as usual in the courtyard for tea and coffee, and, best of all, conversation. My friend, Margaret, another Ugandan, came to greet me with a two-cheek kiss and the news that she would pick me up and take me to the women’s group on Thursday, John finally met Deborah’s husband, Joe, who is a geologist, and they got lost in a discussion of minerals and mining. I tried surreptitiously to take some photos, which may or may not turn out well.
Most of the people where staying for a members’ meeting, and even though we were invited to stay, too, we took a taxi downtown to FiFi’s for lunch. I had the kuku and chips special once again, and John got the beef kabobs and chips. Almost everyone else in FiFi’s was European, except for a couple perhaps as old as we who kept telling people they were from Seattle. We did not tell them where we were from, as they were wearing ultra-tacky bright tourist outfits: the wife in fluorescent orange short shorts and a sparkly matching head band. An African safari guide of some sort was sitting with them, looking very pained by whatever they were telling him. Eventually, they left together in a big 12-passenger Land Rover. The only good part of all this is that someone is helping to lessen the employment problem here in Tanzania.
We heard thunder and then we had a true deluge, which lasted quite a while. There were some strong wind gusts, too, one of which blew a metal table from the outside right into the area where we were sitting. That caused the security guard to close the front glass doors and most of the windows. When the rain finally died down, we made a break for the next street, where there is a small grocery store. I didn’t need anything, but John wanted to go, and I soon found out he wanted more mango jam and even some ice cream. He found the jam, but there was no ice cream. At home in Spokane we rarely have jam except for holiday meals, but here, John has to have jam toast every morning, and mango is his favorite.
As we left the store, Gary, a street vendor who can always spot us, came and tried to sell me some batiks pictures. Gary knows me well enough to understand that I have all the African art I want and that I do not buy from street vendors. However, he kept telling me he was broke, and though he had started with a price of 24,000 Tsch, for some medium size pieces, he immediately dropped to 10,000 once he realized I really, really meant NO. John was beckoning me to come and get in a taxi, and I snapped: I had seen one picture that was far better than the others, so I took it, and Gary got his 10,000. Now, I will really be hassled when I go downtown because Gary discovered that my NO isn’t always the final word.
The rest of the day was peaceful and pleasant, as the rain had cooled the air. We really haven’t had uncomfortably hot weather at all, so our only annoyance has been the dust. Now that we’ve had some rain, we expect the dust to lessen, which will be wonderful. Several new people moved into Kundayo, and we had a snarky time figuring out who they are and why they are here. There is such a spread from old Africa hands to bright-eyed newbies who can’t wait to get to a game park. I have to remind myself that I used to be one of the latter, and I still have much to learn.
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