Karibu sana! (You are very welcome)

So far I have visited three villages during my time here in Tanzania: Nzali, Chilonwa, and Mwitikira.  For my first trip out, I accompanied Rev’d Emmanuel and Buck Blanchard, director of Mission and Outreach for the Diocese of Virginia, to Nzali and Chilonwa.  For the second trip, I tagged along with Rev’d Emmanuel, Bill Parnell, Archdeacon of the Diocese of New York, and Judi Counts, affiliate of the Global Women’s Fund, to Mwitikira.

Motorcade welcome at Mwitikira

While I can hardly claim to be an expert, each village visit followed a similar trajectory.  To start, we were welcomed by dozens of people, shaking hands, exchanging profuse greetings the moment we hopped out of the land rover.  The rector of the parish then received us at his home for conversation and food.  Samosas and these lightly fried doughnut things for breakfast, Chicken in a sort of broth and rice for lunch.  Afterwards, we typically went down to the church where we were formally welcomed by the rector.  An opportunity for us to introduce ourselves, who we are and what we do, to the parishioners followed.  Gift-giving and performances of song and dance from various church groups rounded out the visits.

Many at Mwitikira came to greet us

These parishes are models of incredible Christian hospitality.  Not going to lie, I felt pretty uncomfortable at first.  The overwhelming welcome of a large group of people, getting dance-dragged through the crowd by an older gentleman trumpeting what looked like an antelope horn, being served first before elders of consequence in the life of the parish, receiving simple and elegant cloth as a gift—me, some young adult from the US!  At the risk of sounding sacrilegious, this hospitality seems a bit like God’s grace: a free gift, in many ways undeserved but completely accessible.

Walking to the rectory at Chilonwa

I don’t feel like I am deserving of God’s grace, but that’s the loving nature of God for you, He extends it to you anyhow.  In the same way, I did not feel deserving of the grand hospitality I received, but that’s the loving nature of the village parishioners for you, they extend it to you anyhow.  The only thing you have to do is accept it.  Open yourself up the experience and trust God to do the rest.

Singing and dancing in the church at Mwitikira 

So yes, the customs were quite unfamiliar to me.  And yes, I suspect that I will to some degree continue being a little awkward when I visit these villages.  But in spite of these things (or maybe because of them), I came to feel quite welcomed by the people who received me.  I am a stranger, they didn’t know me, I didn’t know them.  But now, even if only in a small way, they do know me, and I do know them.

Goodbye performance at Nzali

I am very much looking forward to our next trip to a village parish.  In fact, Rev’d Emmanuel suggested that I visit on a Sunday so that I can get a small taste of what “every day” worship looks like in a village.  That would certainly be a gift.

Heading home, dusty dirt road

Oh, and Pro Tip: if you yourself ever have the opportunity to blow into (play?) an antelope horn, I found the most success by buzzing my lips like I was playing the trumpet.  Cheers, Jonathan!

To see more pictures, please click here

Distance

The idea of distance struck me recently.  I’m a long distance from home, they measure distance in kilometers, not miles, here, it’s a twenty minute walk from the compound where I live to the Macay House where I work, et cetera.

On Tuesday I joined the director and deputy director of The Carpenter’s Kids, Noel Chomola and Rev’d Emmanuel Petro, on a visit to Ibihwa, the site of a diocesan vocational school.  As we rambled down the two lane road, impressive rock formations flanked us on either side.  A number of villages were also dotted alongside the road.

The Central Tanzanian landscape

In due course, I would begin helping with the Saturday distribution of school supplies to villages such as these spread out across a diocese (the Diocese of Central Tanganyika) comparable to the size of Wales (says Brian Atkins, CK’s business advisor from the UK), visiting two or three villages a day.  With around 119 parishes, some of these villages do not see new school supplies for as long as two years.  That struck me as distance, a distance that ultimately impedes the ability of vulnerable children to be better equipped for the future.

And yet, once that distance is at last finally traversed, something good happens.  The kids get the supplies they need, and the servants fulfill their purpose.  It seems like God’s love can be found there.

Ibihwa, where we are about to visit a classroom

God’s love knows no bounds, no distance too great.  Even in my short time here in Dodoma I am finding that truth more and more apparent.  If He acts through us, then the words of support I have received and the prayers are a testament to this.  (The internet.  The internet helps too.  Woe to those abroad in the 20^th century before Wifi!  Major props to you!)

Moreover, “distance” seems to connote being far away in the same way that “luck” seems to connote good luck.  But God and His love are always proximate.  As I further settle into life here, I am learning more and more to lean on that love through both prayer and right relationship with others both here in Tanzania and abroad.

Finished carpentry projects at Ibihwa

After a little less than an hour, we arrived in Ibihwa.  We were guided into classrooms where girls were busy working on sewing machines, boys crowded around a circular saw guiding a piece of wood through its blade.  Their finished products looked well stitched and of sound build, respectively, evidence of the expertise transmitted to the students.  A quick peek into a classroom served as the last stop of our tour of Ibihwa.  We all hopped back into the Toyota Prado land rover and drove through the reddish terrain back to Dodoma once more.