Surprise Sunday

Sunday, March 10, 2019

We were looking forward to a very ordinary Sunday, with church in the morning and lunch at a nice restaurant. Church seemed fairly normal, the usual singing, prayers, and announcements. The sermon was given by a young African-American Lutheran minister, who is based in South Africa working on a program to bring young adults from America to live and learn during a year in an African environment. Parts of his sermon sounded good to me, but at the end, I wasn’t at all sure what he had said. Still the flowers were lovely, and I was eager to see my homies and others.

Sunday's flowers

Some of my homies in an after service gathering.

 So, I was totally taken aback when Mrs. Olson—who I later found out is really Mrs. Oredsson— came up to me and said how wonderful it was that I was coming to her house for the afternoon. The dinner was all prepared and the women were excited to meet me. Indeed we had spoken about me visiting her on a Sunday, but the date was to be March 17, not the 10th. I even had the notebook in which she had written her name, phone number, and date, March 17. Poor Mrs. Oredsson. She was stricken! She had mixed up her dates and had something big planned that I absolutely had to attend. So, I found John, told him what had happened, and when he said of course I needed to go, I went back to Mrs. Oredsson and said I was ready. I asked MaryLou if she also wanted to come, but since she wasn’t sure what was going to happen and thought it was perhaps a women’s prayer group, she declined the invitation.

So, I left John and MaryLou, who were going to go to a Chinese restaurant with Sharon and Terry, and followed Mrs. Oredsson—call her Penina—to a big Land Roverish vehicle, and sat in front with the driver, while Penina, her 10-year-old daughter, and a young Masai woman named Monica sat in the back seats. A Swedish young man named Philip, who is motorbiking around Africa, followed us on his motorcycle. First, we went straight to Shoppers, where I was horrified to see a new Pizza Hut being built. This is the first American franchise I have ever seen in Arusha. Penina and the others went in to the store to buy bottled water.

American franchise pollution

From Shoppers, we drove clear across town and out to the highway which goes right past Kundayo, out to the airport and on to Usa River. Somewhere along the way, we stopped so Philip could store his bike at a pentecostal church and continue on in the vehicle with us. Philip was worried about being stopped by police when he had lost both his driver’s license and his license plate. Once the motorcycle was safely stored, we all continued on to Usa River and beyond. When we turned off the highway, I really started wondering what was ahead. The countryside was very barren with no planted fields or gardens. Only a few goats and donkeys were out.

A very barren landscape

Then, in the middle of this wasteland a compound with the usual elaborate gate appeared, and we were at our destination. As the vehicle pulled through the gate, there was loud ululation and whistle blowing from a group of women who had already gathered to greet us.  We were ushered into a typical upperclass African house with enormous overstuffed furniture in the living room area. There were several young kittens lounging on the sofas, and one in particular caught my eye. I would have loved to have taken it back to Kundayo with me.

Me with Penina and Monica

I really wanted to take this kitty back to Kundayo with me.

 After a few minutes, we were called outside and the Meru women began to sing and dance for me. Almost all wore shukas, and some fastened noise makers to their legs, or wore Masai necklaces. The most surprising accessories were two Colobus monkey hair headpieces. There were also several beaded rods which were passed around between dances. Although there was one primary lead singer, at times other women also would lead some songs. It was interesting to me how much they were enjoying themselves. They smiled a lot, which isn’t what I usually see Masai/Meru women do.

First dancing

Before long, Penina called me and the two young people to a nicely set table on her front terrace and served us a very generous meal of rice, stewed chicken, beef stew, and mixed steamed vegetables, with mixed fruit for dessert. The big surprise for me was a small dish of guacamole beside my plate. Penina said she knew Americans liked it. I was touched.

Check out the kitten in the right bottom corner.

Philip, Monica, and Penina

After we ate, we were taken to where the women were meeting under a tent top. By this point there were perhaps 30 to 40 women there. I was seated on a sofa, and the women began to sing and dance again. At first almost all the dancers were older adult women, but gradually, some younger women also joined in. After perhaps 30 minutes, Penina called a halt to the dancing. She lead Philip, Monica, and me up to her “hide-away” where there was coffee, tea, and cookies for us to enjoy, while the women had a meeting.

More dancing under the tent

Perhaps the oldest woman present

This dancer, who is quite elderly, sat by me for much of the dancing.

I already knew that these women were a group of widows who were meeting to form some sort of support structure or cooperative to help themselves economically. Often widows here have few if any rights, and as they age, they become isolated and very needy. Some don’t even have a secure food supply. So, since the first of this year, Penina has been helping these women to meet together on Sunday afternoons, for singing and dancing, and enjoying a meal together. They were all served the same meal that I had enjoyed earlier—without the guacamole though.  Then, they had a kind of brainstorming meeting to discuss what they could do together. Currently, they are considering raising money to buy a tent like the one they were under for their meeting and then renting it out for parties and family festivities. The initial investment seems high to me (nearly $2000) but the income would be good and steady.

Having a meeting under the tent

Penina's upper room

Up in the loft

Those of us up in the hide-away suddenly noticed it was almost 5:00, and we would need to start back to Arusha if we were to make it before dark. So, we walked down the 12 steps (symbolic?), and found that the women were having a closing prayer. Penina called for the vehicle; we posed for a group photo; and within a few minutes we were bouncing out to the highway and back toward Arusha. Once again, we had to stop at the pentecostal church so Philip could retrieve his motorcycle, but this was quickly done. The traffic seemed much lighter, too, so just after 6:00, we pulled into Kundayo. I thanked Penina for her very gracious hospitality and rushed into our apartment to prepare for our usual Sunday video chat with Peri.

The final group photo

Crystal wasn’t ready for our call because she hadn’t realized that Daylight Savings Time had arrived during her night. So, we waited a bit longer while she corralled Peri and got her seated in front of the computer. Peri seemed far more interested in eating her cheese toast and drinking apple juice than she did in talking to us, but we always love seeing her no matter what she does. This time, she was the one who told us good-bye, and that was that. In only two weeks, we see her and give her real hugs.

Lazy Saturday

Saturday, March 9, 2019

We had a very relaxing Saturday morning. Although I felt much better, I was still very cautious about what I ate. Elizabeth had given us a list of items that Ngaisi will need to take with her to the hospital when her baby comes, so I thought it would be fun to go out to the Njiro Shopping Complex and see what we could find at the Village Supermarket there. It didn’t seem to be a good idea to go for lunch, but if we went about 3:00 p.m. we could have ice cream and just hang out.

Right at 3:00, it began to pour rain. We waited until the downpour died down a little, and then had Ray drive us to Njiro. As we were entering the complex, we met Sharon Mkisi, who had been at the supermarket. She accepted our invitation to join us for ice cream, and we all sat down together. The instant a customer sits in this food court, the waitpeople from all the restaurants rush out and pile their menus on the table. It’s insane! Sometimes we inadvertently end up ordering from several menus, which results in multiple bills when we finish a meal.

MaryLou, John and me, and Sharon Mkisi sorting through menus.

Sharon, MaryLou, and I ordered iced coffee with scoops of ice cream in them. MaryLou chose chocolate ice cream.  Somehow in all the flurry of menus, John ended up with both an iced coffee—He doesn’t even drink coffee—and a dish with two scoops of chocolate chip ice cream. After John ate the scoop of ice cream in the coffee, I claimed the beverage. While we were enjoying ourselves, the rain picked up and became an absolute deluge. We stuck it out at the table—under a huge umbrella covering, of course—until we could make a dash for the covered walkway in front of the shops.

Sharon left for home, and MaryLou and I walked around the second story, checking out the shops up there. The big “anchor” store is Woolworth’s —not the old American dime store, but a British clothing store with very nice merchandise for extremely high prices. We were looking for some underwear for Ngaisi but certainly were not going to pay $14 for 4 pairs of underpants. We finally went to the supermarket, where we found baby oil and some other items. I splurged and got another bottle of Dodoma red wine and two incredible croissants. We also bought a get well card for Mama, who has been sick with kidney stones, and then we stopped by the flower vendor and bought a lovely big mixed bouquet for Mama, too. I love the easy availability of flowers here.

John and MaryLou decided that they wanted to go to ACC for a free concert by a visiting Finnish opera singer. That program was going to begin 6:00, so we found a taxi driver, who drove us to Kundayo, where I was dumped off, before he took John and MarLou on to the church. Upon his return after the concert, John said the singer had obviously once been quite good but now was older and suffering from flu. MaryLou thought the singer’s second aria was the best selection. Still, they enjoyed the program, just as I enjoyed a much quieter evening by myself.

An evening of opera.

Another Visit

Friday, March 8, 2019

It was hard to imagine that after the visit from Alfred’s family, there would be much excitement to follow. The morning was relatively quiet, and we took time to catch up on some of our emails and to download the many photos we had taken on Thursday. However, we had gotten a message from my Masai friend Elizabeth that she had finally been able to connect with her little sister, Ngaisi, and they were coming into Arusha for a final prenatal exam. They were scheduled to come next Thursday, but Elizabeth will be far out with no internet connection helping with trachoma clinics and education by then. Since almost no one else in the family the family speaks Swahili well enough to navigate in Arusha or at a hospital, Elizabeth wanted to make sure she was at this final check.

Soon after noon, Elizabeth sent me a text that they would be arriving at Kundayo in about an hour and a half, which I interpreted to be possibly 2:00 p.m. But, 2:00 came and passed, as did 3:00. John had gone to order the kuku na chipsie just after 1:30, so the food was waiting, too. Finally, just after 3:00, we sat down to eat, and just then Elizabeth and Ngaisi came around the corner. Elizabeth called out, “Happy International Women’s Day”! and after other warm greetings, we all rearranged ourselves and ate together. Both Elizabeth and Ngaisi preferred drumsticks. I ventured to eat a small piece of white meat, my first real food this week.

Enjoying kuku na chipies. (Ngaisi is not holding a sword. That is a blade of a snake plant intruding into the photo.)

While we were eating, Elizabeth gave a report about Ngaisi’s appointment. All is well, but the baby has already dropped and could be born much earlier than had been stated as its due date, April 9th. Mary Lou and I want only the best for Ngaisi, who lost her first pregnancy, but we would really be thrilled if this baby was born while we are still here. Elizabeth’s thoughts were focused on how Ngaisi would get from her remote manyatta to the hospital once she started labor. She also wanted to make sure that I knew all the possible contacts at the hospital and could get there if the birth occurred before we left. We even arranged to prepay a driver to bring Ngaisi to the hospital so no one could “eat” that money in advance. Mary Lou and I even have a list of the supplies the hospital says Ngaisi will need there. So, IF this baby is born in the next two weeks, we should be well prepared to swing into action and give it a very hearty welcome. After that, we can only hope for the best without Elizabeth to direct the family action.

One of Ngaisi's rare smiles.

This would be the last time we saw Elizabeth and maybe Ngaisi until next January, so parting was difficult. Elizabeth is very westernized and gives social hugs like a mzungu. Ngaisi, however, is very traditional and much shyer. After knowing me for 2 years, she gives me sort-of-barely-touching “hugs.” This time, however, she put her head on my shoulder and hugged me hard. I was very surprised. Then she kissed me three times on my cheek. I almost cried. She’s only 19 at the oldest and lives a life most of us can only imagine even if we’ve read about traditional Masai life. It seems clear that she looks to us as her supporters and protectors when it comes time to give birth. God, I hope we are still here!

Family Reunion

Monday - Thursday, March 4 -7, 2019


This was not a good week—at least not for the first half of it.  I started having serious stomach and intestinal problems Sunday evening. I would have blamed the Rivertrees buffet except I had had a premonition of something amiss before we ate there. So, by Monday morning, I was full out sick with a slight fever and diarrhea. Mary Lou and I had planned to have Ray take us to central market to shop for kitenge cloth. Instead, Mary Lou went on her own and I stayed in bed and slept through most of the day and through the night.

On Tuesday, I awoke without the fever but still dizzy and relying on proximity to the bathroom. Mary Lou and I had been scheduled to catch a ride with Margret Kenyi and go with her to visit Step-By-Step Learning Center, her remarkable school for mentally challenged children. (https://www.sslc-tz.com/)  Again, Mary Lou had to go alone, while I stayed down and restricted my diet to toast, tea, and bananas. Wednesday was much the same though I went outside to the garden terrace, and I added an egg and some rice to my diet. I also insisted on making eggplant stew for John and then had a horrid backslide into weakness and dizziness.Still, I managed to eat some delicious ramen noodles John made for me.

Then came Thursday, and I felt better but still had a sensitive stomach and kept a limited diet. The difficulty with not being fully well yet was that Alfred Mutua’s parents, aunt and uncle, and a cousin were coming to visit. They were taking a road trip from Kenya down to Arusha to see us. John knew Alfred’s parents well when he was in Kenya in 1998 and 2001, but I had never met them, so I really wanted to be as present as I could be.

However, our morning took a drastically horrid turn when I discovered rat droppings on the floor, and John discovered that a rat had been on a trap eating bait but had pulled loose from the “glue” that was supposed to bind it to the trap. Things were a mess and only got worse when I went into one of my suitcases and discovered the rat(s) had been in it and pooped all over my socks, and underwear, and chewed up the two soft cotton coulottes I wear under my skirts here.  We called for Emanuel, who called for others and a full-fledged rat hunt began. They took out our stove and other items in our apartment out into the courtyard to clean them. I emptied all the clothing in my big suitcase into a large plastic bag, which was immediately carried to the laundry. The suitcase was (also taken out to be throughly cleaned. Brave Emanuel cornered the rat in our tiny back TV room, and like a Masai warrior killing a lion, he whacked the rat to death with a broom handle.

I saw none of the action inside the apartment since I had escaped to the garden terrace as soon as I got the clothing off to the laundry.  John reported that there had been signs of rats living in the stove. Obviously our belief that we had vanquished the rat down the toilet last Friday wasn’t true or else there had been a pair of them. I began to wonder what state our place would be in when the Mutua family arrived, but soon after 11:30, everything had be purged, cleaned, and put back in place. We even had our, old broken-down armoire replaced by a much fancier one with shelves on one side and a full-length mirror on one of the doors.

The visitors had told us that they would arrive “in the morning sector.” However, noon came and passed, and they still had not arrived. John finally texted them to ask about their schedule, and they said they would be here shortly. Soon three large SUVs pulled into our courtyard, and people poured out and shook hands or hugged with greetings and introductions all around.  It was like having instant relatives! The two women, Alfred’s mother, Agnes, and Aunt Rachel were most interested in me. So while Alfred’s father and his Uncle Simon reminisced about past days with John, the women held my hands, remarked on my skin tone, and asked me my age. Here in Africa, very good friends of either gender often hold hands very casually, so I always feel very honored when an African takes my hand and holds it for any length of time. However, I had never had my skin tone examined before nor been so quickly asked my age. I told them my age, and then they asked me to guess theirs. That was a new one for me, too! Fortunately, I guessed quite low, so I think I passed the initial exam very well.

,

L to R: Mama Alfred, me, Baba, Aunt Rachel, Uncle Simon, and John

Aunt Rachel, me, Mama Alfred

Three wazee: Baba, John, and Uncle Simon

After some group photos, we all loaded back in the big SUVs and headed to Uzunguni City Park Restaurant for lunch. (https://uzungunicitypark.business.site/) This is an extremely popular entry located on the former estate of a well-to-do former colonial official, and the gardens are lush and green. One can eat either inside or out from a menu that is very extensive and modestly priced. The food is all prepared in cooking stalls lined up along the outer estate wall, and one can choose chicken, fish, and mutton dishes, all cooked by specialty chefs. There is no wazungu food in this place.

Uzunguni City Park

Grilling lots of chicken

Grilled Nile Perch platter

Steamed Nile Perch with vegetables

Uncle Simon and Aunt Rachel enjoying the feast.

Since I did not plan on eating anything, I wasn’t in on selecting what was ordered. There were two different whole fish platters, steamed and grilled, and a big order of grilled chicken, with accompanying chips or ugali and two dishes of mboga (vegetables). As always there were big bottles of water, all of them uncooled except the one for John and me. The waiter even brought us ice cubes.
There were knives and forks fo everyone, but someone said hands were cleaner, and everyone made sure their hands were well washed at the washstand beside our table. Then everyone—even John—ate all the fish and other food with fingers only. I contented myself with a bottle of Sprite and the spirited conversation about family and the events of recent years. At one point, Alfred’s father, who was sitting just across the table from me, told me that he is never happier than at big feasts with his family. I heartily agreed.

One of the best smiles in Africa.

Soon after lunch, we needed to return to Kundayo and say our goodbyes, so our visitors could head to Moshi for the night, before driving back into Kenya on Friday. Everyone put off parting, so we took some more photos, and Alfred’s parents said they might visit us in Spokane. Alfred’s Uncle Simon and Aunt Rachel have three children abroad: a daughter, who is a doctor in Toronto, and two other children who work in finance in Kansas. So, they have often been in Canada and the US to visit their grandchildren. Their last child, Paul, still lives at home with them, but he works in IT, which may mean he’ll also eventually move abroad. However, Alfred’s parents have not been to the US though they frequently go to Australia to see their grandchildren there. African parents want to give their children good educations, but then they often loose them when they find positions abroad. That is particularly difficult when grandchildren come.

Eventually, final hugs and good-byes were given, and the family left Kundayo for Moshi. I had enjoyed them all so much that it was difficult to see them leave so soon. In fact when I finally laid down to rest, it seemed as if the whole family visit had been a dream. But I have photos to prove it was real and memories of specific people that I will always cherish. John had told me that Alfred’s father was a character, and I found that to be true. He had a great smile, and he obviously enjoyed good times and great conversation. He and John used to go to Kenyatta Market in Nairobi to eat nyama choma (roasted meat) together. He once got a whole group of artisans to let John take photos of them and their work by telling them that John was from an important business magazine. His wife on the other hand, is a straight shooter and probably takes care of many of their affairs. I liked both of them very much and hoped they liked me just as much.

Baba and Mama having a side conversation/

By evening, I was very tired, but I did not feel worse for all the action. I had more ramen and bananas with yogurt before going to bed, and slept well through the night.

Feasting

Saturday - Sunday, March 2 - 3, 2019

The rains begin in March and they were right on schedule this month. Each day, we have had warning thunder and then drenching downpours. The rain usually comes in the daytime—in the first half of the morning or the later afternoon,  Fortunately on every day there have been long breaks in the rain and even bright blue skies. Nothing we have planned to do has needed to be cancelled because of rain.

Saturday passed uneventfully until 4:30, when we needed to leave for the long rattling drive to Erik and Bernice Rowberg’s house for a pizza feast. I had told John to arrange for a different taxi than Ray’s since I didn’t’t think that Ray’s bald tires and sagging rear end could make it up and over the savage roadway to the Rowbergs’ place. If we went with Ray, I was certain we would end up stranded with a flat tire or a rear end rupture. Ray, however, pleaded his case with John, and John, of course, gave in. In spite of my fears, nothing gave out, and we arrived at the Rowbergs safely.

Note: Erik grew up in the Spokane Valley and is a good friend of Dick Finch, the former pastor at St. Mark’s Lutheran Church on Spokane’s South Hill. He’s been here probably 40 years, but I keep forgetting why or how he came. That really doesn’t matter as much as what he’s accomplished here in establishing the computer service company Habari Node, which he began in the 1990s, and the large circle of friends he and Bernice have gathered around themselves. Bernice is Tanzanian and works for World Vision. Their daughter now attends Evergreen College in Washington State, where she is studying sustainable agriculture. In addition to his computer company, Erik also owners a large brick factory. A couple of years ago, he used some of his bricks to have a large pizza oven built in his back yard, and his pizza evenings are wonderful.

Since we arrived at the Rowbergs before dark, I was able to walk around and take photos of their house and the many plants Bernice has planted everywhere. There are several large tree that have huge dragon fruit plants growing on them. However, this time there were no ripe fruits on them. There were flowers and succulents everywhere, too, and even orchids here and there.

The house that Erik built.

A large Dragon Fruit plant.

Some of the many flowers in Bernice's garden.

Friends we had met last year, Robert and Anya and their 3-year old daughter, Sipi (sp?), were present as well. Robert and Anya operate an ecologically responsible safari company, and Sipi just capitalizes on her cuteness. Robert loves to cook, so he and Erik made a great partnership preparing and baking the pizzas. Bernice, Mary Lou, and Bernice’s 8-year-old grandniece, Louella, also made some of the pies, but mostly we women sat and visited. Once again, I was astonished at how little Sipi transferred effortlessly among Swahili with her father, German with her mother, and English with the rest of us.

Erik heating up his magnificent pizza oven.

Robert and Erik the master pizza chefs.

Louelle making pizzas, too.

Bernice and Erik creating some pies.

Sipi and her dog, Colin.

Me chatting with Bernic

Ray returned at 9:00 to take us back to Kundayo, and once again we miraculously made the trip with no flat tires or broken axles. Once home again, I went in to use the toilet, but when I lifted the lid, I was disgusted that someone had not flushed well and quickly reflushed. OMG! Not only did the offending object not disappear, it suddenly showed franticly moving legs and tried to climb out of the water. I shrieked and called for Beatrice, who was on night duty. She, John, and MaryLou came quickly to see the rat and to discuss how to get rid of it. John flushed and flushed, while Beatrice stood by to slam down the lid if the rat started to make progress climbing out. MaryLou crowded in to try to take photos.  Flushing didn’t do anything, so John then filled the big red bucket and poured several of those in the bowl. The rat finally disappeared, but just to make sure it did not reappear, I had boiled water and poured several liters of that down the toilet as well. The rat was gone; however, we made sure to keep the lid down and take a flashlight with us to check what was in bowl when we got up in the night.

Fighting the rat.

During the night we had severe downpours and the din on our metal roofs made it difficult to sleep. In the early morning, however, the rain stopped. and we had no problem getting to church. 

Sunday bouquet

There was also a second very different bouquet.

Watoto making sure to get chai with plenty of sugar.

After service mingling.

MaryLou with Mrs. Olson and her daughter. the Ladies in Red today.

Another friend, Sharon Mkisi invited us to join a group of friends who were driving out to Usa River after church for a special buffet at Windtrees.  It would cost 25,000 TshZ ($10.87), but, what the heck, an all-you-can-eat buffet with good friends in a beautiful setting with live music was irresistible. There were a variety of mixed vegetable salads, and I particularly liked a well-seasoned eggplant salad. The meat offerings were several preparations of pork and beef filet. I think this was the first buffet I have been to in Tanzania at which neither chicken nor mutton was served. There were also delicious fresh rolls and pizza for the children. The best part was being with friends once again and enjoying the beautiful grounds and live music. Just after Sharon had suggested that we stay on longer to listen to the music, thunder rolled, and we knew we needed to get back to the car before the rain hit. We barely made it, and it poured most of the 27 kms back to Arusha.

The main lodge gathering and dining area.

Sharon at the buffet line.

The musicians.

When it was time for our weekly video chat with Peri, the initial connection was good, and we got to see and compliment her on her new haircut. However, after only 9 minutes, the internet failed, and we couldn’t get reconnected. What a disappointment. Still, when I think about seeing and talking with Peri from so far away, I am amazed and happy for any minutes we have with her.

What's Happening?

Friday, March 1, 2019

This day was not supposed to hold much excitement for us. I planned to spend my time on the garden veranda, reading and catching up with email. Then, there would be some laundry to do and dinner to make, Nothing very taxing. John always gets up early and works on his computer for an hour or more before I finally arise for the day. When he sees me or hears me banging around, he comes back to the apartment and we have breakfast together. Afterwards, he frequently thinks of a reason to take a dalla-dalla ride and a long walk back. That was the routine on this day, too.

Today, when John returned from his trek, I was still on the garden terrace. He went into the apartment to sit at our little kitchen table and do something on his computer. I cannot see our apartment from the garden, but all of a sudden, Mazo, who had been on the restaurant terrace, came and said that I needed to go see John. I thought Mazo said that John was nodding off, as he often does when he’s too tired to stay alert. However, Mazo told me that John had fallen out of his chair, and Mazo and someone else had to go pick him up! I hurried to our apartment and found John lying on the bed, seemingly okay, but how was I to know for certain? I decided he must have fainted from the heat and dehydration, so I gave him a cold pack for his head, had him drink water, and told him to stay lying down for awhile.  John had never fainted before, and  he seemed a bit sobered by this incidence. He thinks he’s invincible, but he had walked a very long distance in extreme heat—it was above 90º—and did not take any extra water. He seemed fine by evening, and maybe now he will heed my nagging about wearing a hat, drinking lots of water, and even limiting how much he walks in the hottest hours of the day.

During the afternoon, we heard singing and loud, animated speaking from behind Mama’s wall, which separates her house from the public compound. Mary Lou said she could glimpse a figure walking back and forth and speaking with great passion. It was a gathering of Mama’s prayer group. They meet monthly and rotate among the members’ houses, so Mama doesn’t host them often. Hosting is considered a very important duty, and last week a preparatory committee had called and brought a big wooden cross for Mama to set up for the meeting. I am sure Mama was well prepared. The speaker we heard was a young man in the group. I had forgotten that this isn’t just a women’s group. Now, I need to ask Mama if any of the women ever get to speak to the group.

For dinner, we had pan-grilled pork chops, a creamy rice dish made from a packet I brought from the States, African greens from the Kundayo kitchen, the most perfect avocado so far this year, and cold watermelon cubes. John remarked that it was a dinner fit for royalty. That depends on the kingdom, I think.

Mama and Mazo had been sitting out in the courtyard for quite a while after dark. Around 9:00 p.m. I decided I should walk over to greet Mama, who could see I was still up and about. Greetings lead to an invitation to sit and talk with Mazo serving as interpreter. At first, Mama and Mazo wanted to ask a lot of questions about Trump’s meeting with Kim Jung Un and the Congressional hearings with Michael Cohen. John had wandered over to join us, so the conversation got pretty detailed and animated. These people know their news!

Finally, when there was a pause, I asked Mama if she could tell me the rest of the story about the vanishing bride and jilted groom. It turns out that this story may or may not have a happy ending. In the week following the canceled wedding, the two families met to discuss the situation and decide how to proceed. Eventually, the families agreed that it would impossible to untangle and return all the many gifts which they and others had given for this marriage, so the couple should go ahead and get married after all. Thus, a week ago, there was a smaller, more private wedding at another church, and now the bride and groom are to live, if not happily ever after, at least responsibly. Mama and Mazo don’t have any romanticized view of this marriage. He says in the end it was all about money; she says the young woman will cheat again. I’m hoping for a much better future for this couple.

Queen of Kundayo

What a Week

Tuesday - Thursday, February 26 - 28, 2019

What an unusual week! We come to Tanzania in part so that we can withdraw from busy schedules and instead relax and do very little except read, write, and connect with friends.
I love days in which I have no set schedule and loose track of the hours I spend sitting on the garden veranda reading and thinking. Such hours are wonderfully restorative for me. John needs, and finds, more activity. He is still working on a book he’s editing and a manuscript he’s been asked to judge for possible publication. Plus, he takes long walks every day. Everyone knows the mzee who walks everywhere.

It has been the connecting with friends which has made the past several days remarkable. On Tuesday morning, we awoke to emails from friends who were very unexpectedly in Arusha for the day. The KLM plane which had brought them to Kilimanjaro airport had lost its brake fluid as it landed and could not continue on to Dar as scheduled. So, all the passengers on the plane who had planned to continue on to Dar, plus all the passengers waiting to board the plane for the flight to Dar and on to Amsterdam, had to be loaded into buses and placed in a large hotel/convention center in Usa River for the night. Our friends reported that they were surrounded by 300+ very grumpy people, so we hired a taxi and drove the 27 kms to spend several hours with them.

We caught up on all the many events that couldn’t really be fully communicated by email in the 3 years since we had seen each other face-to-face. There was so much to say!  The hotel prepared a very ample buffet for a late lunch and said that adding two more people, us, made no difference given how many were there. So, we were able to enjoy a nice free lunch, too. Then, there was a notice that passengers continuing only on to Dar, not on to Europe, would need to be ready to leave for the airport at 5:00 p.m. so we got back into our taxi—the driver had waited for us—and came back to Kundayo. Because it was a very busy time of the day, the ride took almost an hour, and I thought I would die of asphyxiation from all the black diesel smoke and gritty dust. I’ve been coughing ever since.

On Wednesday morning, a former Whitworth student, came to see us. We knew in advance that he was coming, but because we were concerned there might be security issues, we had told no one. Still, at 11:00 a.m. when he arrived at Kundayo, Mazo recognized him as Alfred Mutua, the current governor of Kenya’s Machakos County (similar to a state in the U.S.) John had seen Alfred several times since 1998 in Kenya, but I hadn’t seen him since he was a student at Whitworth. What an amazing transformation from a wiry young person to a mature, accomplished man.

We spent 3 hours together at George’s Tavern and over lunch caught up on family and political news. The more I heard Alfred talk about his political and social plans, the more I became convinced that he is doing an excellent job as a governor. Unfortunately, he was frequently interrupted by phone calls because there had been a terrible accident in which a truck had driven head on into a convoy of 18 diplomatic vehicles in Alfred’s county. He needed to give instructions on press conferences, etc. He was impressively calm, even-toned, and succinct in what he said. I was amazed that with such a big international incident unfolding, he had not canceled his visit to us. (https://www.standardmedia.co.ke/article/2001314541/two-ambassadors-to-kenya-involved-in-road-accident) At 2:00 p.m. we returned to Kundayo, where we said our good-byes. Watch for the name Alfred Mutua in 2022 when Kenya has its next presidential election.

Alfred Mutua with John at George's Tavern

John, Janet, and Alfred

Yesterday morning was another women’s bible study gathering, and once again I had to lead the discussion. Fortunately, the women were very interested in the last verse on Chapter 9 and laughed when they realized that Paul must have caused problems for the early church. They had a hearty discussion on past troublemakers at ACC and what issues had been problematic. It was no surprise to me that as in churches in the States, the supposed theological differences were only foils for what were really power struggles. People everywhere are very similar in their sins. We also got into the story of Peter and Cornelius and the debate about inclusion. I ventured into the American church’s debate about homosexuals—the Methodists were voting on this at almost the same time we were meeting—and even though this is a very taboo topic in Africa—for church or state—the women listened very attentively.  Apparently, I had not burned my bridges with them because they insisted I lead again at our next meeting, March 14.

For this gathering, Mary Lou wore a dress the albino women had made for her last week. The women were very taken with it. In this context it looks very appropriate even on a mzungu. Unfortunately, the same is not true once we are back in the States. I very rarely wear my African dresses anywhere but at home when I am entertaining Africans or people who have been to Africa. The few times I have worn anything made of kitenge cloth elsewhere, I’ve felt quite odd. Maybe if we lived in a warmer or tropical climate this would not be the case.

MaryLou in her new dress.

After our women’s group, I had several hours to read and rest before going to Khan’s BBQ, a very popular street eatery at a car parts store. Mazo drove and dropped us off while he looked for parking on the very congested street. Grills and serving tables are set out on the sidewalk and  some seating is near the business’ entry with most on the sidewalk across the street. There is nothing fancy or modern about any of this, but the 4 Khan brothers work hard every evening from about 6:30 to 11:00 p.m. to serve delicious food at an extremely reasonable price—more than one can eat for 15, 000 Tsch. or about $6.60. The chicken was delicious, and the flavors of the other grilled meats and the salads were very pleasant. I tried to avoid anything too spicy, which wasn’t difficult at all. Only the mutton was too hot for me. We first shared our table with a three-generation family group from Sweden, and once they left, we had the whole table until we were ready to leave. Buses and safari vehicles kept pulling up to unload and later pick up groups of tourists. Almost all of them had to sit at the long tables across the street, while we stayed in front of the auto parts store, near the grills and cooking action. Going here with Mazo is always fun for us.

Grilling the chicken

One of the Khan brothers and his wife at the salad and chipsie table.

Our food on the table.

Enjoying time with Mazo.

MaryLou, me, and John.