culture stress (or i don’t want to be a missionary anymore)

Lest you believe I’m some sort of missionary superhero (not that there’s really any danger of this), I’d like to share with you confess to you that I have my bad days.  Days when I don’t want to be a missionary anymore. Days when I want to fly back to the United States, enjoy air conditioning, wait at traffic lights, and eat at McDonald’s.  Days like Friday.

I was just sitting down to the computer when the electricity went out.*  I started the generator for the first time since Sunday — the most recent of its breakdowns (I’d only got it running again Thursday) — and returned to the computer.  15 minutes later the generator was wheezing and coughing.  Another couple of minutes passed, and she quit.  And she wasn’t planning to start again.

That’s when, like a no-name Chinese generator, I broke down. Not in tears, mind you.  But still, I was broken down.  Angry, frustrated, and tired — and I wanted to shut my eyes and wake up in Dothan, Alabama… at the National Peanut Festival.  [There's no place like home.  (Repeat x 3)]

Great!  Just what I needed… my generator to break.  Again.  One more thing to go on my list. [If you don't like to hear venting, complaining, and whining, you probably should skip to the bottom; I feel that I rarely complain, but today there will be whining.]

• We haven’t had water from the city since July. For a week’s worth of water, I have to borrow Carson’s truck and tank, fill the tank in town, and pump the water up to our holding tank… twice (about 4ish hours of work, depending on the line at the well and whether there’s electricity or not).  Or I can pay 20 times what we’ve got in our budget for water and have it delivered by a truck from town.
• The water we do have is frustratingly difficult to use because our taps and faucets are full of red dirt and sand and don’t allow water to pass.  Seriously, we have three sinks in our house in which we can’t wash our hands.  I can fix them, but haven’t gotten around to it yet.  There are also leaks in the pipes in two of our walls.  Concrete walls.  Behind tiles.
• Our electric oven doesn’t work. Not because it’s broken but because there’s something wrong with the wiring that causes the breaker to trip every time we turn it on.
• We’re $20,800 in debt and struggling to pay for our furlough plane tickets. This isn’t quite as bad as it sounds in that $17,500  of this money came in the form of a bridge loan.  A very kind and anonymous donor loaned us the cash so we could buy a new truck.  We’re to return the money when we sell our old truck, which hasn’t happened yet and is proving somewhat difficult because of the rising dollar (or the falling shilling).  The other $3,300 is extra port fees charged us by the government of Tanzania.  If you’re thinking this means the government makes us pay for “storing” our truck in their port while we waited for them to allow us to have it, you’re right.  The slower they do their jobs, the more cash they get. We paid $3000 already, but were informed of this other $3,300 the day we picked the truck up.
• Speaking of the truck, our brand new Toyota LandCruiser doesn’t have 4WD high. This is because the 4WD toggle switch was stolen at Toyota of Tanzania before I’d ever even seen the car.  Those buttons resale at well over $100 USD, but I can’t find one anywhere — and Toyota won’t take responsibility for what one of their employees did.  When I picked the truck up from them, they told me the empty space was there for a placeholder button, and that it did nothing.  My 4WD low works fine, but it’s not suitable for getting to some of the villages we visit.  So we haven’t been to a single village since we got the new truck.
• We’ve been in Tanzania two years now — and we’re technically on-schedule.  But I can’t help but feel like we never get any work done, because we’re always fetching water, repairing plumbing, sitting in the dark, or just trying to live.  It just takes so much time to live here.
• I didn’t tell you what happened just before the electricity went out on Friday.  Christie called from outside, and I opened the backdoor to find the puppies playing tug-of-war with our bed sheets, which they’d pulled from the clothesline. Our high-thread-count, nicer-than-we-can-afford, we-received-them-as-a-wedding-gift and only-have-two-sets bed sheets.  My wife was slightly troubled.  [It didn't help that when the generator quit working an hour later, all the clothes in the washing machine were trapped inside, obviously wet.  Aah... the joys of an electric washing machine in a land of electricity rationing.]

When the generator quit — and I wanted to lie face down in the red dirt (where we’ve not yet planted grass) and beat my feet and fists in the mud while sobbing something about “my mommy”….  When the generator quit, these were all the things going through my mind.  I didn’t understand my feelings; I wasn’t sure if I was angry or sad, frustrated or afraid.

I called Carson and asked if I could charge my computer on his battery back-up system so I could do a little work.  Mostly I wanted to be able to say I accomplished at least one thing on Friday.  I packed the computer up and started walking to Carson’s house.  On the way I passed a young boy who asked if I would give him a ball.  I wanted to scream, “Does it look like I have a ball, you begging idiot?!”

Instead I told him politely that I didn’t have a ball.  He then pointed at the bottle of Coke Light in my bag and countered, “Well, then can I have a soda?  I see you have one of those.”

I told him I only had the one — and that it was for me to drink while I did some work on my computer.

As I walked away I realized it.  That I was experiencing culture stress.**  Under other circumstances I would have taken the bottle out of my bag, opened it for the boy, and given it to him.  But I was angry; the last thing I wanted was for one more person to ask me for a soccer ball or a soda, or for money or a job.  I wanted to leave Geita. Or at least lock myself in the (dark) house and refuse to answer the gate.

But I didn’t leave Geita.  And I didn’t lock myself in the house.  I went on to Carson’s house and told him I was having my first (and only, that I remember) culture stress event since moving to Tanzania.  Then I sat down at my computer (plugged in and charging) and got some work done.  I prayed while I worked, naming each and every one of these stresses and handing them over to God.***

After only a couple of hours, I felt fine.  And you’ll be happy to know I went on to accomplish as much on Friday afternoon as on any of my most productive days in Geita.

* Common occurrence as of late.  Electricity is being rationed.  For a couple of months it was as bad as 72 hours of electricity a week.  But lately it’s been much better — we’ve probably had closer to 100 hours per week, maybe more.  [To keep you from having to do the math yourself, there are 168 hours in a week.]

---

** Lots of people and books speak of culture shock — with no mention of culture stress.  I’m firmly in the camp, though, that we ought to see the pressures of living in another culture (and the effects of those pressures), as being on a continuum.  And so, we all experience culture stress.  But we reserve the term ‘culture shock’ for more extreme cases, and not these singular and shorter-term bouts with second cultures.

I suppose I am blessed to not have too many of these culture stress days.  In fact I don’t remember feeling quite like this any other time in my life except the one day in China when I punched a bus that had brushed my shoulder in an attempt to convince me to cross the street faster.  The echo of my fist against the hollow metal of the bus was deafening.  And it caused a horrible scene, as the bus driver stopped in the middle of a very busy road and got off the bus in order to yell at me for hitting his bus with my hand.  I was the only white person around, two heads taller than anyone else.  And they were all staring at me.  I swore I’d never act out in anger at a cultural situation again.

---

*** In light of recent discussions on prayer, I’ll be posting a very useful and practical prayer exercise a little later in the week.  For those of you who carry a great deal of stress with you, I think it will prove very helpful.

rahab’s exchange: a cultural argument for lying?

image courtesy of reverendmom

[This post is the fifth in a series.  Others are: "rahab's exchange: the lie," "rahab's exchange: ethical theories," "rahab's exchange: moral absolutism," and "rahab's exchange: an interview with myself."  Rahab lied in order to save the lives of two Israelite spies.  Was she right to do so?  Is it ever right to lie?]

In the culture in which you grew up, there were likely many lies which were always allowed — and even preferred and encouraged.  Lies like:

How are you?
Fine, thank you.

Are you thirsty?  Can I get you a drink?
No, thank you.  I’m fine.
[But the drink would be served anyway -- or the question would be asked again, at which time it was appropriate to say that, indeed, you would like a drink.  In China it is necessary that you refuse the drink three times; the fourth time, though, you are allowed to accept.]

What do you think of my new haircut?
Oh, it looks great. Where did you get it done?
[Note the quick change of subject after the lie.]

Honey, do these jeans make me look fat?
It’s not the jeans, dear.  Denim doesn’t create muffin-tops; it just highlights them.
[Just kidding.  That's not our preferred answer.]

I think the general reasoning for our acceptance of such lies is that we’re trying to be polite or spare the feelings of another individual.  American culture has determined that, in such cases, being courteous is more important than objective truth. And many a Christian, when forced to think through this, is left only to assume that we are all sinning in doing so.

We lack a methodology for understanding why something we feel to be true (we should spare a friend hurt feelings even though her hair is hideous) might indeed be true.  We want the simplicity of a system in which there is no conflict between our various moral dealings.  We want right and wrong to be clear and unambiguous. But this approach doesn’t mesh with our conviction that it’s just wrong to tell a spouse he/she looks fat.

So, when pushed, many believers will offer up, “Yeah, it probably is wrong to be dishonest in those situations.  I shouldn’t lie no matter the reason.”  Then an individuals’ blatant disregard for others’ feelings can be credited to him as honesty righteousness.  Bad manners and a lack of compassion become the ideal for followers of Jesus?

• Some will say, “Exactly.  We shouldn’t lie no matter what our culture tells us.  Culture shouldn’t interpret morality.”
• Others will say, “Well, I just feel like we should look at the intent with which we lie in those situations.”

**********

Here in Tanzania, it’s incredibly rude to answer a friend with, “No.”  There is instead always a polite excuse offered.

Let’s say you have a practice of not allowing others to use your vehicle.  No matter how logical your reasoning, if I ask to borrow your car, you should offer a polite excuse.  It won’t do to say, “I’m sorry.  You can’t borrow my car because my wife and I don’t loan it out to anyone.”  Instead you should offer, “Oh, but I think I might be using my car on that day.”  Even if you have every intention of staying at home with your car parked in the garage.*

Or say you’ve had a really long day of work and just need to read a book or sit in silence, and have some “you time” — but someone wants to visit with you — do you say no and try to explain your reasoning?  Of course not; you simply answer, “You know, I’m really busy with some work issues this evening.”**

But here’s the catch:  When you offer one of these excuses, your friend knows this is not a real reason, but rather a polite device employed to spare his feelings and safeguard your relationship.

If you were to simply say “no,” he would be left to wonder why you no longer want a relationship with him.  Why would you be so incredibly rude to say no, when you easily could have made up any number of small lies to spare his feelings and keep your relationship intact?

Truth and accuracy are not held in nearly as high regard as relationship and civility.

I am becoming more comfortable with this system of choosing relationship over accuracy.  I’m not saying it’s right.  But that’s much of the reason I’ve lately been studying ethics and the Rahab story.

I mentioned earlier the two most likely responses:

1. We should not lie no matter what culture tells us.  Culture can’t interpret morality.
2. We should take into account the intent of a given lie.  Was it to be polite?  Then we’ll let it go.

I don’t necessarily buy either of these arguments.  Human morality can’t exist outside of culture, and determining morality by intent alone is suspect in my opinion.  [Of course I've made it clear in past posts that I believe there to be a graded hierarchy of moral laws, which should be utilized in these situations.  But...]  I wonder if my own argument in these situations might be much simpler.  It probably looks something like this:

• A lie which everyone knows to be a lie, is not a lie.

Perhaps it’s not a question of whether or not it’s right to lie in these situations.  It might be that these words are indeed not lies.  What do you guys think?  Farewell, Brett Harrison?

[Next post -- rahab's exchange: a story of true faith]

* Obviously we can use our creativity to think through ways of dealing with these situations without lying.  I often try to employ humor in these situations.  Though, clearly I am still not telling the truth, which is that I simply will not allow you to borrow my car… whether it be for reasons of insurance, legal issues, or a general lack of safety.

** We won’t get into the many problems with viewing any time as being your own private and personal time — valuing self over community.

---

P.S. — If you’re interested further in the topics of “dishonesty” in African culture, see of marathons and misinformation: a lesson in tanzanian communication and missionary predicaments: hospitality and rest.

bike rides and geographical oddities

“Nyehunge, the geographical oddity. Three hours from everywhere!”

Sunday morning I journeyed by mountain bike from our house in Geita to the small village center of Nyehunge.  I started out at 7:45 am, having never been to Nyehunge before and not knowing for sure where it was.  But asking for directions while on a bike isn’t so bad.

I was to meet Jason Miller, “super missionary,” there in Nyehunge, where he would arrive by truck from Mwanza.  From there we would continue on together another hour to the village of Bilyahilu, where we’d stay until Tuesday.  Riding my bike to meet Jason accomplished the following:

• Kept Jason and I from lavishly parking two vehicles in a village where vehicles aren’t generally parked.
• Allowed Christie to still have a mode of transportation in Geita.
• Let me get some non-running distance exercise on a mountain bike and small dirt roads.
• Put me in a situation to see some beautiful Tanzanian countryside.

I started out the direction I should be going, asking along the way how long it would take to reach Nyehunge — I’d figured on 2 1/2 hours.  A few folks answered 4 hours, while others shrugged and said 3. Eternally the optimist — and a relatively strong rider (on a bike with gears at least, an unfair advantage for sure) — I decided to go with the 3-hour estimate.  I was looking forward to the ride, but not to the several mountains everyone said I’d have to climb.

Two mountains and 45 minutes later, I asked some guys on bikes how far to Nyehunge, and they confidently answered, “If you ride really fast, it’ll be 3 hours.”

I thought, “Okay, I’d better push it a little,” not wanting to be late to meet Jason.

Another 45 minutes into the ride I came to a fork in the road.  As I stopped to ask directions, I also inquired as to how long it would take to reach my desired destination.  The answer without hesitation: “3 hours.”

At the 2-hour mark of my ride, I stopped to buy water and, as I poured it into my water bottle, again asked how far to Nyehunge.  The guy glanced at my “hi-tech” bike and back at me, and said, “On a bike like that, you can probably make it in as little as 3 hours.”

At this point I responded in English and under my breath, “Well, ain’t this place a geographical oddity. Three hours from everywhere!”* I then started out again, this time with even more immediacy.

About 15 minutes passed, and I caught up with some guys who were cycling much faster than anyone else I’d seen that day.  I fell into their pack and asked one of the guys how far to Nyehunge.  He said, “At this speed, just a 1/2-hour.” Relieved, I followed him all the way to Nyehunge.

Total trip time = 2 hours, 45 minutes.

In Tanzanian culture it’s impolite to give someone bad news.  And “I don’t know” is apparently the worst of news.  It’s better to act as if you know — and let someone be disappointed in the end — than to not answer a question.

**********

On the return trip yesterday, I was worried about some dark rain clouds moving our way and, so, asked Jason to drop me in Nyamazugo.  This route would require only 10ish miles of dirt road, at which point I could enjoy a paved one all the way into Geita.  I figured pavement would be easier to ride on when wet — and the trip couldn’t possibly be that much longer.  I didn’t bother asking anyone for estimates.  My total ride time yesterday was 4 hours.  And the mountains were bigger.

 

* I shouldn’t have to offer a citation for this line — and I won’t.  One of the best ever written.

 

overheard

Overheard at a small spring behind my house, where local kids are often sent to fetch water for their families.  [Except in the early mornings when the mothers themselves fetch the majority of the day's water (for cooking, drinking, cleaning, and washing clothes.]  The girls arguing were probably nine or ten:

“Your family’s so poor that after dinner you have to say, ‘Mama, I’m not full, I’m not full.  I’m still hungry.  I’m not full.’”

“That’s not true. We got plenty of food.  Look at you… and them skinny legs.  I don’t know how you can even walk with them skinny little legs.  Your family’s the one ain’t got no money.”

“I can walk just fine with these legs.  I got power in my body.  I can carry a whole bucket of water from here to my house.  Girl, you probably can’t carry a bucket on your head from here (draws a line in the dirt road) to here (scratches another one).”

“I can too carry water.  I do it every day.”

“Not a big bucket, you don’t.  Look at that little bucket.  If you can carry a big one, then prove it.  Do it, girl.  Come on.  See, you ain’t no lady.  See, y’all, she ain’t no lady — can’t even carry a bucket over to here!”

“You’re skinnier than I am.  You ain’t got no meat on those bones.”

“Girl, I am thick.  And you know it’s true.  Because my mama feeds me real good.”

“At least my family’s got a couch.  Your family don’t got no couch; everybody be sitting on wood stools all around the room.”

“My family does too have a couch.  Ask my neighbors, those kids right there (pointing).”

Those kids: “Yes, they have a sofa.  We seen it.”

“My family does too wha wha wha wha…  Ask my wha wha wha wha…” said mockingly while holding her nose and rolling her eyes.

“We drink sodas, too.  I bet you ain’t never had a soda.  You’re family’s so poor all you can drink is water from this here spring.  Too bad you ain’t never got the chance to enjoy a Coca-Cola.”

“At least my family ain’t going hungry.  Your family don’t got enough money to feed everybody.  And you don’t even know how to cook anyway.  You ain’t no lady.  Your mama probably don’t know either.”

“My mama does know how to cook.  And she can till a field, too.  Your mama’s so weak she can’t get the land ready to plant.”

“You ain’t ever even seen my house.  We got lots of corn.”

• I suppose kids in every culture learn early to make themselves look better by putting others down.
• One difference between these kids’ insults and those of American kids (at least when I was one) is that all the insults about being poor are more likely to be true here.  In the states, many insults never actually hit home.  It’s possible (and often the case) to make fun of others while saying things that are obviously far from true.
• Another difference is that these Tanzanian kids are already wanting to appear as adults and to perform the duties of their parents (most of those duties seem to fall to the women).  And many of the insults are designed accordingly.
• Those of you who enjoy learning about new cultures, take note of what makes one a lady here — and contrast that with our American views and ideals.
• Oh, and when’s the last time you heard an American girl making fun of how skinny another girl was?

man’s traditions over God’s commands

Then some Pharisees and teachers of the law came to Jesus from Jerusalem and asked, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? They don’t wash their hands before they eat!”

Jesus replied, “And why do you break the command of God for the sake of your tradition? For God said, ‘Honor your father and mother’ and ‘Anyone who curses their father or mother is to be put to death.’ But you say that if anyone declares that what might have been used to help their father or mother is ‘devoted to God,’ they are not to ‘honor their father or mother’ with it. Thus you nullify the word of God for the sake of your tradition. You hypocrites! Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you:

“‘These people honor me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me.
They worship me in vain;
their teachings are merely human rules.’”

– Matthew 15:1-9

A few thoughts:

• It is entirely possible — and all too common — for us to say the right words without any involvement from our hearts.
  
• I should honor my mother and father.
• I should never put man’s traditions ahead of God’s commands.
• I should never be willing to disappoint God in order to please man.
• I should study carefully to distinguish between that which is of God and that which is of man.
• In missions, we should imbed early in Bible study groups a desire to look to the Bible to know why or how to do anything — not to our denomination’s traditions or commentaries and the like.
• We tend to offer – unknowingly even – our own (cultural and church) traditions when involved in evangelism.  We should strive to 1) know when that is what we’re doing and 2) make efforts not to.
• Doing so will make Christianity “lighter.”  What we are now trying to pass on to seekers is incredibly laden with denominational baggage and cultural traditions.  It’s difficult for them to receive and even more difficult for them to pass on to others.  [Not to mention that we're blurring the lines of what is from God and what is from us, all the while making it difficult for them to be obedient to God.]
• A form of evangelism which offers the Word of God with little other baggage and tradition will be more easily accepted and more quickly reproduced.

**********

We know not all traditions of man are bad, so here are a few helpful questions* we should ask of each one we encounter.  They may help us determine whether to continue in that practice or not:

1. Is this tradition against God’s commands in the Bible?
2. Will this tradition be a barrier to the gospel’s advance in the culture in which I’m living?
3. Does this tradition water down or dilute the understanding of other Biblical practices?

I’ll try to go a little deeper into these questions in upcoming posts.  What are your thoughts?

 

* I found these questions in a notebook as if I’d written them (as an “I will” statement) following a Bible study on this text.  But I honestly don’t know that I’m smart enough to come up with these questions — so this asterisk and comment are here just to state that there may be credit due another individual for these questions, but if so I’ve got no idea who.  If it’s you, let me know…

of marathons and misinformation: a lesson in tanzanian communication

A few days ago I posted a “review” of the Rock City Marathon, which I ran on Sunday.  I posted my ideas that day from a very western-dominated worldview for two reasons: 1) That is my default setting for thought.  And 2) most of my readers (all six of you) are American and likely think in a similar fashion.

But Jason Miller, super missionary in Mwanza, Tanzania, shared with me some great thoughts over coffee Monday morning about the news article I’d linked to and how it represented so well Tanzanian communication and values.  Then he left on my blog (while I was driving 11 hours) what might have been an intelligent African response to my own post.  There is a lot to be learned about Tanzanian culture from Jason’s few words on the subject.*  So I am reposting his comment here for all to read.  It’s likely that in the next few days, I’ll attempt a western response to Jason’s African one.  But please feel free to respond while proudly wearing your own American values on your sleeve.

Hey Brett,

I see that you replied last at 6:01. Well, since you were staying at my house, at 6:15 you and I were conversing over coffee when I made the comment that your post represented to a T[anzanian] a very western valued (albeit funny) view of the newspaper article from the Guardian. I then said something like, “If someone googles ‘Rock City Marathon’ I bet your blog comes up in the top five.” You were a little mortified by that possibility. Well, I just googled to make sure…and you are number 5.

So, since I’m privy to the information that you’re traveling all day from Mwanza to Dodoma, and being that after that conversation you were concerned and wanted to add an addendum to your post, I’ll post a comment from the viewpoint of your average Tanzanian forming the jist of our conversation in order to way-lay the concerns of those that are of the sociological viewpoint of a Tanzanian. You can add or subtract later, agree or disagree later.

Just so all you readers who are going to want to defend Brett know, Brett and I are good friends.

Considering the several disparaging comments you levied against the staff writer of the Guardian, they all seem to deal on some level with your over-valuing of truth at all costs. You see, as a white-male westerner (as you can only be since you liked the nick-name “The White Mamba”), you value accuracy and truth more than relationship and decency.

Let me explain. You begin by quibbling with the phrase “all the finest runners” and the word “marathon.” Your first questions, as a westerner, are concerned with the accuracy of these statements; whereas as a Tanzanian, you would have had no questions here, since what right-minded person who considers the feelings of others at all would have so coarsely belittled the effort and ability of those involved by directly accusing them of lying. Moreover, we as Tanzanians understand that the article is representing the best hopes of those involved, and has no direct relation to truth whatsoever.

About starting the race at 7am or later, what Tanzanian wouldn’t want to start later? At 7am it is still cold, is it not, being only 68 degrees F? How would one run in all the clothes needed to stay warm at that early hour?

Furthermore, you westerners obsession with time over relationship continues to confound me. You value this impersonal entity, time, more than you value being, as you westerners say, “in the moment.” Westerners like to talk of being “in the moment,” or being mentally present to those who are in front of them for the time they require their attention (regardless of allegiance to time), but in reality your true values are betrayed by the fact that many chance encounters are ended by the fact that a previous engagement has been arranged. Truly western, that: valuing that which is in the future, or, let’s be honest, the possible, more than valuing that which is right in front of you, or, in the most basic meaning, the real.

Did you ever consider that perhaps the Coke driver simply wanted to spend a little more time with his child that morning instead of rushing off to work because of a “previous engagement?”

And then you land back on accuracy concerning numerical reporting, taking to task the “3000″ involved in the race. Yes, of course, there were more like 300 involved, but what right-minded member of a society worth being a member of would value a random number over the intentions and relationships of those involved in planning this great event. So they said 3000 and there were actually 300…so what? Not a single Tanzanian thought there would be 3000. They are again, like good Tanzanians communicating to other Tanzanians, reporting the best intentions of those involved, not the base reality. Everyone in my neighborhood knows that reality is not worth paying attention to, but that it is intention that matters.

Next you’ll want to tell me that we should judge a man by his actions! No, not even you would be that ridiculous. A man’s intentions and the peculiarities of his situation are much more important than his successes. Everyone knows that. Who in Tanzania knows more than one or two people they could name as successful? Or better yet, someone who is successful and can still named as friend? For we all know, with success so often comes a set of compromised morals.

Anyway, at least it seems from your post that you value children. At least, from a sociological standpoint, we have that in common. Jesus, as well, seemed to value them at the expense, even, of others.

Along those lines, even our own writer, Paul, tells us in Ephesians that once we have matured we will be “speaking the truth in love….” Even Paul, that genius of western logic, understands that truth without love was a sign of immaturity.

How about you?

* “Few words” is relative.

a tanzanian celebration: song and dance for the president

“Oh, are you and Carson just getting back from having seen the president?” Kulwa asked as we stepped out of the truck.

“The president?  You mean President Kikwete?!  THE President?  As in, of Tanzania?  He’s in Geita?”

“Yeah,” Kulwa responded, “He’s coming to Geita today, but I’m not sure when he arrives.”

Geita, Tanzania is not a big town.  Basically it’s an overgrown village center.  But it’s an overgrown village center that’s continuing to overgrow.  And big things are on the horizon.  It’s been known for some time that Mwanza region in Tanzania is getting too big, and so, another region will be formed — and the widespread rumor has been that Geita will indeed be the capital of this new region.  [Region::Tanzania as state::U.S.A.] So we’ve kind of been expecting President Kikwete to arrive at some point and make the whole thing official.

Elections are also coming up, so it certainly doesn’t hurt to get a really big crowd together and wave some flags for the Chama Cha Mapinduzi.  The CCM (Party of the Revolution) is one of the political parties in Tanzania, though it might as well be the only political party in Tanzania.  It was established in 1977 (one month before this author’s birth) by the first President of Tanzania, Julius Nyerere, and was the only recognized and legal party until 1992.  The CCM has won every single election on the regional and national level in the history of Tanzania (and I’m guessing all others as well, but have no facts to support such a theory).  Jakaya Kikwete is the current chairman of the party and president of Tanzania; each of the other three men who served as CCM chairman also held the office of president.

So what follows is a photo essay (with video) of a CCM rally and presidential visit in Geita, Tanzania.  Karibu Geita, wageni.

these are the most western-looking tanzanians to ever walk the streets of geita

First there was a performance.  The “Tanzania Number One” band and dance group entertained the crowd, who started gathering by 10:00 am for the president’s 4:15 pm arrival.

an umbrella shades these young women from the shining radiance of the president's face

Finding a pleasant place to await President Kikwete’s arrival; where better than underneath this life-size poster of the man himself?  [I neglected to tell you that the president is a giant among men.]

a gathering crowd

There were actually a whole lot of umbrellas in the crowd… despite the fact that I was the only individual present who is actually capable of being sunburned.

he wore a black felt beret, the kind you find in a second-hand store

And we all know you can’t have crowds without crowd control.

strike a pose. there's nothing to it. vogue, vogue, vogue, vogue.

Photography Rule #1 in Tanzania:  Either people really, really want their picture taken… OR they really, really don’t want their picture taken… OR they don’t care either way, but really, really think you’ll pay them to pose for the camera.  Guess which group these guys fall in.

"world leader kangas" are available in 'kikwete' or 'obama.' oh, and nice placement of the double image president's face; was that purposeful?

CCM’s colors are green and yellow.  So there was a lot of green and yellow.  And lots of chants and cheers for CCM, President Kikwete, and Geita.  This event was the closest thing I’ve found here to an Auburn football game or a high school pep rally.  [Probably closer to the high school pep rally, except for the number of people present.]

president jakaya kikwete

In true African fashion, President Kikwete arrived more than two hours late.

"traditional" witch doctor dress, complete with pet monkey

But still the welcome was a warm one.  There were several groups who had been previously selected to “officially” welcome the president.  Some groups wore traditional dress, others green and yellow, and still others tanzanian flag attire.  But all danced.

Oh, there was dancing.

there's got to be a zacchaeus in there somewhere... or at least a waldo

I feel like in the states we often call something “standing room only” just because there aren’t any chairs.  But this was literally standing room only.  About halfway through the president’s speech, I snapped a few pictures with the camera — and then realized I could no longer put my hands down by my side, I was being pressed against so.  I did manage, though, to cross my arms in kind of a hug-myself fashion for the remainder of the speech, giving my arms a place to rest (and my heart a nice, warm feeling).

there are our zacchaei (plural of zacchaeus). and the guy on the bike may indeed be the tanzanian waldo minus his hat.

After the President and his entourage left, everyone just kind of hung around and talked.  It was a lot like a Sunday evening after church (not a Sunday morning, because that’s when everyone’s in a hurry to get to PoFolks).  I chatted with several people I knew, and I think I was seen as more a real part of the community than I often am.  It was really nice.

a geita sunset, coca-cola rooftops and all

I left shortly after this picture was taken, in order to be home before dark.  But it seemed most people weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon.  Everyone was so excited to share in this important time for our town.  Geita will officially become a region, and the capital of that region, on January 1, 2011.

interview with a missionary — part mbili

This is the second post in a 2-part interview of which I was recently a part.  You can find the first part here.

What has God shown you while living in Africa?

I’m going to name two — a positive and a negative, if you will:

• God has shown me that my life is infinitely better when I set aside time each morning to pray and read my Bible.  I’ve tried lots of times in my life to do so, but had never been consistent and disciplined with that practice until a little over a year before I left the states (when I started reading my Bible every day).  And then when I arrived in Africa, I added a written prayer list to my daily routine.  It’s really been a blessing that I wish I’d taken advantage of earlier in life.  [Related is that I am now doing 3-column Bible studies, or some version of them, a couple of times a week.  These studies stress understanding what I'm reading and being obedient to put it into practice -- I believe the Holy Spirit is using these studies to transform my life and mind.  You can read here about how to do a 3-column Bible study.]
• This one may come across as pessimistic and depressing, but, living in Tanzania, God has shown me (and continues to show me) many abuses of religion and Christianity.  Hierarchies and power-grabbing.  Oppressing others in the name of Christ in order to get ahead.  Blatant disobedience to God by those who call themselves Christians, and this sin either being excused as culture or simply ignored as if it’s not a problem.  I’m not suggesting there are no actual Christians here, or that every church is corrupt — but I am saying that overall the church I see is not representative of the Christ I serve.

What is the biggest cultural difference between America and Africa (or with what cultural difference have you struggled the most)?

I’m not sure of the largest cultural difference between the continents, but I definitely struggle most with fatalism and defeatism and the like.  It bothers me so much to see a people who are resigned to live poor and sad lives, unwilling to search for solutions to problems, unable to dream, and in which any optimism is the result of an expected handout.  Not all of Africa is this way, but many seem to be — at least to some extent.

Not that I think Americans have the right answer: “I can do anything I set my mind to.  It is within my power to achieve all things.”  We even pull scripture out of context to back up our beliefs: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”  Paul says such in the context of being content in all times.  I mean, we make it say almost the opposite of what he intended.  ”I can accomplish running a marathon through Christ, who strengthens me,” rather than, “I can be content even if I lose the use of both of my legs in a horrible car accident.”

Tanzanians, I don’t believe, struggle so much with thinking they can accomplish it all on their own.  I think they struggle more with believing there is no single power large enough (of themselves or elsewhere) to overcome death and sickness and evil spirits.*  And everything that happens is due to some outside spiritual force.  So either 1) I have no ability to change my life, find success, or think creatively, and should be resigned to suffer because that’s just the way it goes, or 2) I need to constantly be appeasing the spirits, maybe grabbing hold of a couple of different religious systems, so that I have more power against evil.  [I'm over-generalizing, but you get my point.]

What have you learned about yourself from living in Africa?

I like to write.  I knew before moving here that I kind of liked to write.  But now I realize it’s one of my favorite ways both in which to relax and to think through issues.  I think, for now, writing has taken the place of team sports in my life.  I’m sure that sounds strange, and some of you are wondering how playing a sport could ever have been as relaxing as sitting and writing.  But others are wondering how writing could ever offer the same challenges and rewards as playing sports.  Anyway, for me, it just fits right now.  There are a lot of hobbies I lost in moving to Africa, and I’m glad writing has stepped up to fill some of those voids.

What have you learned about congregational ministry while in Africa?

I’m not there yet.  I’m studying the Bible with some folks, and I’ve visited some established churches, but I’m not currently ministering to, or in, any congregation.  The one thing I can say that I’ve learned, I’m not sure I learned FROM africa — I think more the ideas merely developed more fully while IN africa — but it is this:  The ministry of the church to the lost is different than the ministry of the church to the church.

* This struggle with power over evil is one reason I think presenting the gospel (only or even firstly) as Jesus dying for our sins is a mistake in this culture.  The idea of sin and guilt is a concept that isn’t fully (or at all) present here.  So we’re offering a solution to a problem that doesn’t exist.  We ought to start with the creator of the world, a power so great that he has already defeated evil once and for all — and we can live in him.  Once it’s established that God meets the (already present) need for an all-powerful, yet loving, creator, those who are giving their lives to that God will come to realize that he has ideas concerning right and wrong, and it will become important to be obedient to him.  Sin and guilt will be understood, and the fuller purpose of Jesus’ coming as well.  But I think we make a big mistake when we start there.

interview with a missionary – part moja

image courtesy of photobucket.com

I was recently interviewed by a college student concerning my current life as a missionary on a foreign field.  I generally try not to be a blogger who posts interviews with himself (especially the ones that ask what I’m listening to right now and who the last person with whom I spoke on the phone was), but many of you ask to read more about our lives here in Tanzania.  So I thought this interview would be alright, though I’ve tweaked the interview itself, cutting and pasting here and there, etc.  I’m planning to post it in two parts, because I went into such great detail on this first question:

What expectations did you have concerning missionary life that have proved unrealistic?

The three years I served in China before coming to Tanzania helped to remove many of the unrealistic expectations I might have otherwise had. However, I was still not prepared for everyday life to take so long.  I tried to prepare myself for it; I knew it would be the case.  But I failed.  I had been in Africa a couple of times, and for several months, prior to moving to Geita.  A lot of that time was spent in nearby Mwanza — which I knew was a larger city, but thought would be similar.  In some ways it is.  But not many.  Everyday tasks just require a great deal more time than ever before.  Some of this is cultural, but much of it is simply due to goods not being available in stores (or being very expensive) and city services being poor at best.  Some examples:

• We constantly run out of water (or within 200-300 liters of it), despite the fact that we’re on city water.  In a typical week (if there is such a thing), water from the city is turned on for four hours, two days a week.  So depending on our water usage (and whether we have visitors — equals extra showers, more dishes, etc), I could easily spend 4-6 hours of my work week getting water myself or having it delivered.  And getting it myself requires time spent by Carson or Calvin (as they have means of moving large amounts of water, and I don’t), eating into their work days as well.
• Being without electricity can obviously change one’s schedule a great deal.
• There’s no such thing as running to the market, or into town, for ten minutes to pick up a few things.  If I go near their stalls or storefronts, there are at least 7 or 8 vendors I am expected to go and greet, and many people along the way want to stop and chat.  Only a short conversation is needed, and I consider this a real benefit of living in small town Africa — but it easily turns ten-minute trips into 30.
• There are many goods which, in order to be obtained, require trips to other cities (oats, canned vegetables, coffee, frozen chickens,* etc) — and others which are much cheaper in those other cities (almost everything, from bulk toilet paper to soap to nearly every food item, etc).  Mwanza is the nearest city, and (now, due to a new paved road and an extra ferry across the lake,) is about a 2 1/2 hour journey, one-way.
• Car repair is also in Mwanza, as are many of the government offices we might need to visit.  [Geita, however, has just become its own region, and is the capital of that region, so these offices will "soon" be coming our way.]  Our insurance office is in Mwanza, and even our post office box is there (none available in Geita right now, and there exist zero large boxes at our post office anyway — for our team to share).
• A meeting time is not a meeting time.  It’s usually a suggested time at which you might think about starting to go where you’re going.  So if I’m told someone will meet me at 10:00 am, I have begun to expect them after 11:30.  I used to try and find something useful to do during that time, while waiting at the specified location.  Now I just show up a little late myself (still always first, though, no matter how hard I try).  Not only does the waiting take time, but it prevents me from scheduling three meetings a day.  Literally, two one-hour meetings can take an entire work day.
• We make our own bread, process our own meat, and almost all food is cooked from scratch.  In the states, I always had an option to stick a frozen pizza in the oven or eat a bag of chips.  Here, if there are any frozen pizzas, it’s because Christie made them Monday because she knew she wouldn’t have time on Thursday because of Bible study.  If there are any chips, they’re homemade tortilla chips (from scratch, which is quite a process).

I should be clear that much of the time spent “living” is in some way or another related to wanting to be comfortable.  If we only ate rice and beans every day like the Tanzanians do, we wouldn’t have to process pigs and make our own bread.  If we bathed with damp rags every three days (not trying to be rude, but honest) or washed (owned) less clothes, we wouldn’t require nearly the amount of water we do.  If I didn’t own a truck, I wouldn’t need an insurance office in Mwanza.  So, in fairness, I should admit that it would at least be possible for us to live differently.

However, I’m still not sure how much time it would save.  Because, were we to decide to live like some of our fellow Geitans, we’d necessarily walk everywhere, cook outside over charcoal, and fetch water from a bucket every time we needed it.  So in some ways, those things which make us comfortable actually increase the time available for work and ministry.  It’s not like the Tanzanian women don’t spend much of the day cooking.  I think living here simply takes longer, no matter who you are.  The guy with the bank account has to wait in a 10+ person line, and the guy without has to do the same at the cell phone store.  [If you don't have a bank account, you keep your money on your phone -- read more about that here under "mobile money."]  Christie and I, then, have decided to fall a bit on the comfortable side, despite the time involved.  We have pizza once a week, take showers daily, use the internet, and have an indoor kitchen.

So living in Geita takes a great deal more time than I ever imagined it would.  And that time has to come from somewhere — time spent working, studying, with family, relaxing, exercising, or sleeping has to be cut (or some of each).**  That’s frustrating to me, because I sometimes feel like I’m not accomplishing as much as I should.  I suppose much of that is because I compare my work week to what it was in the states.  Probably a bad idea.  Africa can be a tough place for someone who is driven.  Especially when that someone has generally determined his self-worth and value by his own accomplishments.  As you can probably guess, Tanzania has been good for me.  I’ve been forced (wish I hadn’t needed to be) to find my worth elsewhere — and I’m learning that God loves me (and so do my wife and friends), no matter how many things I get done in a day.

interview with a missionary — part mbili

* Interestingly enough, frozen chickens in Mwanza cost the same as live local chickens in Geita — and have more meat on them.  I kind of enjoy slaughtering animals and processing meat, but if buying frozen chickens yields more meat in less time (if we’re already in Mwanza with a cooler), I’m going to choose that option.

** A “work day” for me is (when possible) seven hours (instead of eight), and I wake up a lot earlier than I used to.  I’ve not (and am not willing to) cut family time.  And my exercise, study, and rest times have stayed about the same.

there’s no “i” in exorcism

I pulled Google up on the laptop this morning, and this graphic is what I saw.  For just a brief moment, I thought it was normal to be reading Swahili as I searched the internet.  And then I realized it is not indeed normal to find Swahili on Google’s homepage.

The phrase given is a popular Swahili proverb, which (it seems) is claimed to have originated in Kenya, Uganda, or Tanzania — depending on the nationality of the person whom you ask.  Considering the meaning of the proverb, it’s somewhat ironic that this is the case.  ”Umoja ni nguvu, utengano ni udhaifu,” translated, reads “Unity is strength, division is weakness.”

The East African Community’s common market officially began today, July 1st.  Because most of you would be bored to death with this issue — and because I know practically nothing about economics and the like — I’ll limit my thoughts on the subject to this paragraph.  I’m concerned the highly-educated and skilled Kenyans are going to take a lot of jobs from the citizens of Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda, and Burundi; and those jobs are needed.  It’s not like the states, where people complain about jobs being taken by illegal immigrants — knowing full well they’d not be willing to work those jobs being taken.  No, I’m concerned that even many of the most skilled laborers here will be without work.  I say all of this while openly admitting I know nothing of economies and/or money.  But every man’s an expert on his own blog.  On the bright side, I might be able to get my Rwandan coffee cheaper now….

these are the 16 people currently living in africa

image courtesy of photobucket.com

Unity and working together are important concepts here in Tanzania.  I thought I’d share just a few other Swahili proverbs that speak to their significance:

Kinyozi hajinyoi.

A barber doesn’t shave himself. This one’s pretty self-explanatory.  Though it’s kind of funny, because most of the haircuts here (at least those of the male gender) could easily be done by one’s self.  I regularly cut my own hair.  I’m guessing there are many versions of this exact proverb (methali in Swahili), but I’ll give just one more:

Mganga hajigangui.

A witch doctor doesn’t cure himself. Or I think it could be translated, “A witch doctor doesn’t exorcise himself.”  I may cut my own hair, but I don’t exorcise myself.  Just so you know.  I always leave that to a big group of my closest friends and family.

Kidole kimoja hakivunji chawa.

One finger doesn’t crush a louse. It’s true; it does take two fingers to do that, as gross as it is to discuss in public or type on a blog.  Related is this methali:

Vidole vitano, kipi bora?

Five fingers, which is best? I’m guessing one could make a strong argument for the thumb, but the point is taken.  And while we’re on the subject of fingers…

Mikono mingi, kazi haba.

Many hands, short work. We even say this one in English — not that I’m claiming to have never heard the one about crushing lice in English.  My mom used to say it all the time growing up.  And lastly:

Afadhali kuwa wawili kuliko mmoja; maana wapata ijara njema kwa kazi yao:  Kwa maana wakianguka, mmoja wao atamwinua mwenzake; lakini ole wake aliye peke yake aangukapo, wala hana mwingine wa kumwinua!

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:  If one falls down, his friend can help him up.  But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!”

So that last one’s not a Swahili proverb.  It’s from Ecclesiastes 4:9-10.

I suppose every people group in the world recognizes the need for mankind to live and participate in community.  I mean, one of you is going to have to exorcise me.

* Did anyone actually count to see if there were 16 people in the photo?  Be honest.