Arusha Community Church

Sunday, January 20, 2019

There were the usual bouquets of flowers at church this morning, but the woman putting them up was so late, I couldn’t take a photo before the service. Then, I forgot to do so afterwards. So no pretty photo today, and there were some stunning birds of paradise blooms in the arrangement. I guess I’ll have to take a photo of one in our garden and post it for all to see how dramatic they are.

The service was okay, but not great. A young Anglican teacher at a local pastors school gave the sermon, which wasn’t bad, just not great. And the singing was actually pretty pathetic. That’s very very odd for any church in Africa. However, I’m beginning to notice the stunning difference which has taken place since last year. A year ago, there was still a fairly large wazungu contingent at ACC, and they were very visible in leadership roles. Now many of the German, American, British, and Swiss people we knew and saw year after year are gone. One reason is that the Tanzanian government has made it extremely difficult—almost impossible—for many to get work permits/visas. The theory behind this policy is that Tanzanians should be taking over the jobs wazungu have long held. But, when there are not enough doctors, high school math teachers, trained agronomists, volunteers to work with disadvantaged groups, etc. the policy becomes more harmful than beneficial. One of my friends works for no salary with a group of albino women who have developed a sewing workshop. When she was told to fill out a government form and state by name who would replace her, she refused because as she pointed out no one who was now working for a salary would want an unpaid position.

Anyway, many of our former wazungu friends are no longer here. Concurrently, the Tanzanian membership at ACC has rapidly increased. Now, the congregation is overwhelmingly African, which I find heartening, but I have picked up on the fact that some of the remaining long-time wazungu are struggling with the changes in leadership and worship. The old songs, which used to be accompanied by the grand piano and a group with guitars and a flute, just don’t work well with a mostly African audience, so now the singing stinks. No matter what the old Germans think, the music needs to change, and soon. Another problem which may be more critical is that Africans do not (probably cannot) give as much in the offerings as the wazungu do. So, with fewer foreigners, I am pretty sure that the offerings have shrunk, and the budget may be in trouble. This is definitely a time of change at ACC, and I hope it weathers all the challenges well.

No one else at church seemed interested in going out to lunch with us, so we took a taxi to Picasso, a restaurant near where we live. It’s a place very popular with a wide range of people, and when we arrived, a large Indian family was finishing lunch, an Asian girl (Japanese?) was ordering, and a Tanzanian family walked in just ahead of us. We three ordered very different entrees: John a pizza, Mary Lou a hamburger, and I a salad. John ate his complete pizza, while Mary Lou and I had take away boxes. Then, Mary Lou and John split a big piece of Black Forest Cake.

Mary Lou decided to walk home, but John and I took a taxi back to Kundayo. The remainder of the day was very low-key until 7:00 p.m. here, when we connected with Peri, our 2-year-old granddaughter, via FaceChat. This time she seemed to understand better how to communicate with us via a computer screen, and she put on a 30 minute show of jumping around, making giraffes out of blue play doh, showing off her new “phone,” and being just plain silly. It was wonderful to see her silly self, but  next time we hope she will talk more and jump less.