A Day in the Life (of Distributions)

I have been here in Dodoma for nearly three months now but I have yet to give you all a glimpse into one of the most meaningful parts of working with The Carpenter's Kids: the village distributions.  These distributions involve visit several villages on a Saturday in order to deliver school supplies and uniforms to the orphaned and at-risk children enrolled in the CK program.  As you will see, this past weekend John Mattaya, former CK deputy director who has been helping us with distributions, Joshua, our driver, and I experienced quite the distribution at a village called Chololo.

Backseat view as we travel through the bush

I will never get tired of looking out at the Dodoma region landscape

It's quite common to come across herds of cattle and goats being
shepherded down the dirt road.  With a little help from the
shepherd the animals usually catch the drift: in this moment,
the side of the road is the safest!

Thanks for sliding over boys and girls

The church at Chololo.  CKs on the right,
guardians of the CKs on the left

MC preparing for introductions with a couple of the
CK parish committee members looking on.  Each parish has a
committee that, in conjunction with the head office, works to
communicate with and organize the CKs in the village

One of the two choirs performing for us.  The performances
typically include both song and dance, the words being sung in either
Kiswahili or Kigogo, the language of the Gogo tribe
that lives in Dodoma region

The actual distribution itself, where the CKs receive their uniform,
school supplies, and a long bar of soap (the orange thing)

Office work is important but it's something else entirely to see
what these supplies often mean to these otherwise disenfranchised children

Spontaneous dancing while we wait for the remaining CKs
to finish changing into their uniforms

The CK students and more CK committee members to the right

And now for the shoes and socks.  One of my co-workers, Daudi,
goes out to the villages a week before the distribution in order
to get the children's measurements for their shoes and uniforms.

One of the members of the CK committee expressing her thanks to
the CK head office and their supporters abroad for helping
to make obtaining an education possible

The CKs themselves putting on a little performance as a
way of saying thanks.  See the orange bars of soap?
I still cannot get over how huge they are

A goat and charcoal; surprise gifts from the parish!  The generosity
that we come across during these distributions is really quite moving.  And
most of the time it does not involve gifts: taking tea with the
priest and other CK committee members or getting a little snack
for the road means a lot, especially when food and other
resources are often scarce in the villages

If Joshua (far left) and John (far right) received the charcoal.
I wonder what is in store for me...

The second choir giving us one last performance before
the distribution comes to an end

The CKs of Chololo, a good looking lot!

Some of the CK committee members, the gifted goat, and me

After Chololo we had one other village distribution.
Here's a shot of Dodoma Town as we head on home

Zawadi (which means "gift" in Swahili) getting
settled in at the compound

Distribution days are nearly always long, filled with bumpy roads, and do not usually feature choir performances.  But they are far from tedious.  Instead, I have found the time in the villages, however brief, to be a potent reminder of God's love: that it is everywhere (no matter the village), that it has no one form (no matter the size or resources of the village parish), that it runs through each and every one of us if we open ourselves up to His Grace (no matter our circumstances).

As Tanzanians are wont to say, Bwana asifiwe!  Praise the Lord!

The Present is a Gift, That's Why They Call it the Present!

Well folks it’s a little hard to believe but I, Andy Russell, am no longer really a stranger to this place called Dodoma.  To be sure, I don’t know everything about Dodoma, not even close.  But I know the compound where I live, my walk to work, the CK office, Rose’s (where I get lunch most days, as well as a good number of the other store fronts and spots around Dodoma.  This familiarity has brought something else along with it: routine.

The word “routine” strikes fear into the hearts of many people.  I am no exception.  The banal, the repetition of less than stimulating activities over and over again, it can make us fear that somehow we’re not living life to the fullest.  Just look at TV shows, commercials, movies, newsstands, YouTube videos: clearly we aren’t being spontaneous or adventurous or glamorous enough.  WHY AREN’T WE HAVING FUN ALL THE TIME???

For me, routine has especially settled in at work.  Emails are checked, spreadsheets are updated, CK students or their parents stop by with healthcare or tuition needs, distribution schedules are discussed, and the world gently turns.  To be sure, all of this work is important to the mission of the Carpenter’s Kids.  But sometimes, in the slower moments, it certainly doesn’t feel that way.  And during those moments it can be terribly easy to drift off into fantasy, a world that replaces spreadsheets with NFL stardom and meetings with red carpets (who day dreams about those things anyhow?  Not me that’s for sure...).

I know this desk well

At YASC mission training, we touched on the idea of “being present” several times throughout.  It was not the first time that I had heard the call to “be present,” but I did take it more seriously than times past (I think being at a monastery helped).  The Daily Offices, the Great Silence, eating breakfast, trading experiences with other YASCers: I was there.   I still had a little feeling of “great, us Christians and our vague, spiritual-sounding jargon.”  But “being present” did begin to mean something to me.

And boy does it mean something to me now.  If God is everywhere all the time, then I am finding it increasingly important to take that seriously.  To know that no matter the moment—a miraculous triumph, a crushing defeat, a day spent hunched over a desktop computer screen, whatever—God is present.  And that is a powerful thing.  God, our Creator, who lovingly sent His Son down to die for our sins in order to save us all, is there.  We just have to be there with Him.  Cut out the day dreams, the fantasy, the speculation about the future, and just be with God.

Being present is something that I lose touch of constantly, but it’s also something to which I have become determined to return.  Routines can seem like a real downer, but I’ve come to realize more and more that there is so much more to the everyday we experience.  Paul urges the Philippians to “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice” (Philippians 4:4 NRSV). Because He is right there with us.  Always.

Andddd We're Walking

Ever wondered what my morning walk to the Carpenter's Kids office looks like?  Then you are in luck my friend for this video has been made especially for you.

In all seriousness though, I hope you enjoy the following short film.  If you have six and a half minutes to spare, I think it gives a small but meaningful taste of life in Dodoma.  The compound where I live is in a quieter residential part of town; it's kind of neat to see the changes in sound and scenery as you get closer to a more bustling part of Dodoma town.  And if you have any questions about what you are seeing during the course of the film, please feel free to leave a comment below and I'll be sure to get back to you.

Karibu!

(To expand the video screen to full screen, just hit the square-ish looking icon on the bottom right of the video)

If the imbedded video does not work here's the link to YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GU3S9RsaRWc&feature=youtu.be

YouTube description: Join Andy Russell, missionary with the Young Adult Service Corps (YASC) of the Episcopal Church, on his walk to the office where he works with the Diocese of Central Tanganyika’s Carpenter’s Kids program.

If you would like to learn more about Andy’s mission in Tanzania, please visit: asrussell-yasc.blogspot.com.

NOTE: In order to partially hide the camera I filmed the entire walk with the camera held vertically, thus the narrow vertical view of the video.  Though the video is only six and half minutes long, the walk actually takes around 20 minutes.  Depending on how well the video does when it hits theatres in December (watch your back, Star Wars!) we may include the unedited version when the DVD/Blu Ray combo pack is released

Bwana asifiwe! (Bless the Lord!)

Last Sunday I attended the 7:00am (meep) Swahili language service at the Dodoma Cathedral.  I arrived only a couple minutes early and the church was already almost completely full.  It felt nice to be in a full church, side to side with fellow worshippers (the English language service does not draw nearly as many people).

A projector at the front displayed the verses of the first hymn as we all rose for the procession into the church.  The really nice thing about Swahili is that the language is essentially phonetic; if there is a letter in a word, it makes a sound (the same cannot be said for English!).  So even if you scarcely know what you’re saying (yep that’s me) you can still sing along to the hymns.  I really appreciate that.

The Dodoma Cathedral

Right now I am at the point where I can pick out words and some phrases when someone speaks Swahili.  So as I expected, most of what was said during the service went completely over my head.  But I took great refuge in the similarity of the liturgy used at the Swahili service and the liturgy I am used to back home.  With the exception of a couple of extra pieces (one called “Kushukuru Familia” where, if I understood its explanation to me correctly, families give an offering in thanks for something drastic that has happened in their lives, for instance a family member surviving a car accident, the birth of a child, etc.), the liturgy progressed exactly as I had experienced it in other Episcopal churches in the US.

Wow, I thought to myself as the service progressed, so this is at least some of what it means to be a part of the Anglican Communion.  The words were in a different language but the prayers, the motions, the worship, they were quite the same.

At the moment it seems like there are some questions surrounding the future of the Anglican Communion.  Now I certainly do not know enough to comment on the theological and political issues that have become divisive in the Communion.  But I do know that if one aspect of that Communion, the liturgy, can make a person feel more comfortable worshiping God in a church 7,715 miles away from home (thanks Google Earth), then the Anglican Communion is doing a pretty cool thing.  And as I continue to work on my Swahili I will continue to attend the Swahili service knowing that while I do not literally understand all of what is being said, in many ways I do understand.  In this way, the worship of God happens on a level that soars over any sort of language barrier (as is fitting for God).

The only thing is the sermon.  Definitely need to work on following the sermon.

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.

YASC Orientation

I can hardly believe that I am already over a week removed from the YASC training at the Holy Cross monastery in West Park, NY.  Between the actual cultural training, monastic setting, a trip to New York City, and all the people present during the two weeks of training, the experience was just so utterly unique and transformative.

The cultural training we received was an amalgamation of mission history, cultural processes (in both abstract and concrete senses), formation, and self-knowledge on both an individual and cultural level.  I was most profoundly struck by two aspects of our formal training: first, the incredible diversity in how human beings organize themselves around the world; and second, how knowing one’s self is of paramount importance in both in cross cultural settings and in one’s own personal (and spiritual) life.

I only had to step out of the “blue room” where our lectures were held in order to see what we had learned out in the world.  You really do have to marvel at people.  They belong to and participate in creating impressively intricate ways of living.  For example, the brothers at Holy Cross live in a culture of discipline and right relationship with one another and God.  Meanwhile, the residents of Brighton Beach, the borough that my group visited while in NYC, perpetuate a culture steeped in the Russian language and culture.

And yet, people are so much more than the culture to which they “belong”.  Not only are cultures are contested spaces, but we as individuals hardly ever follow a single monolithic way of life.  As individuals we have our own personalities, experiences, relationships, perceptions, preferences, and desires.  And we most certainly do not abide within the neat little confines of a single story*.

Holy Cross Monastery

I learned this lesson over and over again through everyone at monastery.  YASC and Episcopal Church staff, the brothers, fellow trainees, the Holy Cross staff, the visitors of the monastery not affiliated with our training. . . there is so much wisdom to be found in one another.  Forget cultural competency!  Our time together was one of incredible love, empathy, honesty, and compassion.  I can hardly describe just how much I learned about others, myself, and God through these people.

The great thing about all of this?  I am a person too!  I am a part of this wonderfully complex fabric of humanity.  Both collectively and individually humans can be as selfish as they are generous, as callous as they are empathetic.  I know personally that I still have a lot to learn about myself.  But it is comforting to know that no matter what, I am loved by God (and you are too!).

In the midst of our past orientation and our future missions (or present mission for at least a couple of us!), it is truly a testament to God’s awesomeness that such amazing and diverse people can come together, cultivate meaningful relationships, and then go out to do God’s work across the globe.  Boy am I fired up for what is to come -- out of the classroom and into the world!

*If you have 20 minutes to spare, I strongly recommend watching this Ted Talk entitled “The Danger of a Single Story” by Chimamanda Adichie