The End of the Road

Julie and I arrived home safely on Holy Thursday. My three month trip, begun with Christmas snows swirling around, ended with Easter snows swirling around. It was as if this African adventure was merely a bookmark in a Midwest winter. It was a wonderful trip, a tremendous cross-cultural experience, a real eye-opening opportunity. I am deeply grateful for the time I was given in Tanzania. I am also happy to be home again.

My last few days in Iringa were filled with exit interviews by members of the Iringa Diocese staff and farewell meals in people's homes. The Tanzanian people are very good at making a person feel warmly welcomed and deeply thanked. It was hard to say good-bye to some of my many new friends, with whom I had become a partner in ministry, and to the city I had claimed as home for three months. After picking Julie up at the airport in northern Tanzania, I kept talking about what she would experience when we "got home." It wasn't until I had said that a few times that she realized I was talking about Iringa and not Mahtomedi. It had become that much of a home to me.

Now that I'm home and back working at Luther Seminary, I want to take some time to let things filter through me. I really don't know what experiences will mark me forever. I'm guessing some will. Only with time will I know what those are. I feel like a different person in some ways, but maybe that's more because of experiencing a different pace of life than lessons learned. So, I plan to resume life and see what I do differently because of this experience.

I want to publicly mention people who made this trip possible for me. They begin with Kathy Hansen, Vice President for Seminary Relations who first suggested this idea to me. Also, to President Rick Bliese for endorsing the trip, Janet and Brad Anderson for their support, Bishop Peter Rogness and the St. Paul Area Synod for their support, Gary Langness who put up with me as a housemate for three months, Don and Eunice Fultz who helped open doors for my work in Iringa and "parented" me as an orphan for three months, and Bishop Mdegella and his staff who welcomed me as a member of their staff for three months. Also, Julie and my children kept me connected throughout via their regular emails. I know I didn't take this trip alone, and for that I am very grateful.

Now that I'm back in Minnesota, I am finally able to post some photos to go with the blog entries. If you wish, you can now go back to all of my blogs and see some of the things I wrote about. I hope it's not too little too late. But, thank heavens for technology that works!

Finally, thank you for taking time to keep up on my travels through this blog. It is gratifying to know that there actually were people reading this stuff! For any who have traveled to Tanzania, I hope this will refresh your memory and that you will be able to identify with some of the things about which I wrote. For those who have yet to visit Tanzania, perhaps this blog will provide an interest in you to visit the Christian church in another part of the world. It may just change your life.

Asante sana.

On The Go

There's been a bit of a gap since I last wrote a blog entry. Well, Julie arrived a week ago Thursday. I could probably leave it at that. But, not knowing how you will fill in the blanks, I will continue by telling you how we've spent our time.

Julie flew into the Kilimanjaro Airport in the north of Tanzania near the city of Arusha. Don, Eunice, Gary and I drove the twelve hours from Iringa to Arusha on Thursday to meet her there. We then spent three days in the north, visiting some very special sights. Among them was a visit to the not-quite-finished Selian Hospital. Dr. Mark Jacobson from Stillwater is building a state-of-the-art hospital in Arusha. I was stunned by how good it is. I've seen three other hospitals in Tanzania. None compare. It will set the standard for health care in Tanzania. It was to have been dedicated while we were there, but was not ready. Dedication will take place later in the year.

We also visited the head office for the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tanzania, located in Arusha. We stayed one night in the Uhuru Lutheran Center in Moshi, about 80 kilometers from Arusha. Out our window we could see Mt. Kilimanjaro. Because of cloud cover, we could only catch glimpses from time to time, but what a sight! It's the only mountain on the equator with a snow cap. But the snow is melting and the cap isn't very big anymore.

From there we drove eight hours to Dar es Salaam. Early on Monday morning, we were invited to join a group from Bethel Lutheran Church in Hudson, WI, in a private visit with U.S. Ambassador Mark Green. He is a Wisconsin native and happy to visit with people from his home area. He just finished hosting President Bush for four days in Tanzania, a monumental event for the Tanzanian people. He was very supportive of the work being done by the Lutheran church in Tanzania and very grateful for the care with which Minnesota and Wisconsin parishes carry out their partnerships.

Immediately following this visit, we drove the eight hours from Dar es Salaam to Iringa, spent one day in Iringa, and then Julie and I left for a three day safari in the Ruaha National Park. There we stayed in splendid accommodations, took three game drives and saw all the animals we wanted to see. That included abundant elephant, giraffe, zebra, birds galore, a leopard and two lions. It was a thrill.

We are now back in Iringa for the remainder of our stay in Tanzania. It felt like I was coming home after an extended vacation. That's how much my time in Iringa has affected me. It feels more like home than anywhere else in Tanzania. I know many of the people. I know the places. There is a rhythm to life here. It feels good.

So, now we will finish strong. On Sunday, Julie and I will travel to the Mwatasi parish, the partner parish to our home church of Trinity Lutheran in Stillwater. I will preach. Julie will bring official greetings to our partners. We will enjoy the hospitality of village people in Tanzania one more time. It will provide a marvelous exclamation point to this entire experience.

We leave for home next Tuesday, flying out of Dar es Salaam on Wednesday night and arriving back in Minnesota in time to enjoy the Easter weekend.

So, we remain on the go for the duration. See you soon.

SEX

The title is a bit shocking for a blog on the Luther Seminary website. But now that I have your attention...

Bishop Mdegella is burying his younger brother today. He died from HIV/Aids. His wife died from the same disease three years ago. People say his new wife and their small children don't look too well, either.

I've met many children in their young teens who have been infected with HIV/Aids from birth. They are orphans. Over here, that means at least one of their parents has died, often from HIV/Aids. Many are in the homes of relatives. They are taking medication which is having a positive effect. Only time will tell how long they live.

Every week I hear about a funeral for a young person who has died from this disease. When you travel by cemeteries, you see rows upon rows of freshly dug graves. The natives say most are HIV/Aids related. While some of the infections may be from contaminated needles, most of it is from sexual contact.

Much is being done to educate the population. Scores of college-age students come here to teach the young children about Aids and Aids prevention. Everywhere you see signs encouraging people to use condoms and to get tested. Churches are encouraged to preach and teach about HIV/Aids, because churches are more trusted than the government. I heard one church choir sing an anthem about Aids. Even the wheel cover over the spare tire of an Iringa Diocese vehicle bears an ad for a condom company. HIV/Aids is a major problem for this country.

Yet, it's interesting that I see very little courting going on between men and women. You see literally no public displays of affection. No hand holding. No arms around the other's shoulder or waist. No public kissing. The only hand holding I see - and experience - is between two men. It is a custom for one man to hold the hand of another as they visit.

At the same time, it is not unusual for women to be pregnant when they get married. Where there's a will there's a way!

The practice of obtaining a "Bride's Price" still happens here. The fathers of the husband and wife-to-be meet to negotiate a fair price for the bride. Sometimes, the fathers are represented by others in their family for this negotiation. The Bride's Price is an acknowledgement that the bride's family is losing a member of their family through this marriage and needs to be compensated. The better the bride, the higher the price. Payment used to be made in livestock. Now it's mostly in cash. It is true that once a woman is married, she belongs to the husband's family. If she is divorced, she loses everything. If the husband dies, she is taken in by the husband's family. Not often does she ever return to her own family. It is a male dominated society, for the most part.

There is no homosexuality in Tanzania. That's what we're told by everyone. An article in a recent Tumaini University newspaper held the title, "Just say no to homosexuality."

But it's clear that, just like anywhere else in the world, sexuality is a major factor in the future of this country. Education continues to be a key. The church needs to speak of healthy relationships and healthy sexuality. But medicine is also a major key. The treatment of HIV/Aids continues to improve. Many more people are living with the disease and remain productive members of society. So we must pray, and teach, and treat.

So, that's the sex report from Tanzania. I hope you found it as interesting as the title. Oh, and this is one time I'm glad I can't attach photos to this entry. I'm really at a loss to know what pictures I'd attach!

For My Father

When my father was a small child, a missionary visited his Sunday School class. After the presentation, the missionary asked if anyone wanted to be a missionary someday. My dad was the only one to raise his hand.

He never made it to the mission field. He became a pastor and served parishes in the United States. Since his death, several missionaries from his class told me that there were only two people who faithfully wrote them personal letters while they were in the mission field. One of them was my father. Though his feet never touched the soil of a mission field, he honored his promise from Sunday School days as well as he could.

Last Sunday, as I visited the Kilolo parish as the guest preacher, I was given a great honor. This was my second visit to this congregation. The very first Sunday in Iringa was spent at the Kilolo parish. It was where I was first introduced to the auction of chickens after worship. During worship, they gave me a piece of fabric to make a shirt and announced that I was now a member of the Kilolo parish. I am not only visiting Africa, I am now a member of an African church.

As the congregation greeted me with applause and singing, I couldn't help but think of my dad. Maybe, in some small way, I'm now fulfilling that promise he made so long ago. I am preaching in a foreign land, a former mission field. I am a member of the Kilolo, Tanzania parish. I have travelled where my father could not, preached where he wished he could have, and become a part of the church in a developing country.

Dad, I do this for you. I can't help but think he is smiling and heaving a great sigh of contentment from his heavenly perch. "My son has continued my calling." Maybe this is only the beginning. Who knows what the next generation will do with this calling?

Sights, Sounds and Smells of Tanzania

I realize that, in this blog, I've only been sharing events I've witnessed while in Tanzania. Yet, everyday, there are similar sights, sounds and smells that remind me I'm in Tanzania. To help give you a sense of everyday life, I'd like to share some of the impressions I regularly experience.

In the quiet, I hear the cawing of the black and white crow.
Car horns constantly honk as traffic moves through the main thuroughfare.
Music is everywhere - church choirs, radios, people singing their own songs.

Several times each day I hear the muezin calling from the mosques for prayer. I have to be honest with you, these muezins will never make it to Mecca. At 5:30 this morning, I was trying to decide whether I was hearing a mosquito buzzing or a call to prayer. I think it was a call to prayer.

I see school children in bright colored skirts, sweaters and slacks, walking briskly to school at 6:30 a.m. and returning home around 3:00 p.m.
I see women in colorful katangas (wrap around skirts) and matching head scarfs.

I hear the constant babble of voices in the market.
And the occasional voice from the vendors as Gary Langness walks by, "Hey Gary, my friend!" I think he's been here too many years.

In the market I see the bright colors of bananas, pinapple, mango, tomatos and onions. The pungent smell of fish, fresh and dried.

I hear the rain as it rolls across the green, rock covered hills around Iringa, blowing its way into town.

I see the mud covered walls of homes in the villages, the grass roofs filtering the smoke from cooking fires inside.
The red brick, long walls of churches, their shining metal roofs gleaming in the sunshine, used truck tires hanging from trees for bells.

I smell charcoal burning in little, round, hibachi-type grills, preparing to cook the daily meal.
I see the red, hard-packed roads with deep ruts and pot-holes, snaking through the countryside.

And I hear laughter, always laughter. Every conversation, whether in Swahili or English, is punctuated with generous laughter.

As one group of visitors from St. Paul was preparing to leave, they joined Don and Eunice Fultz of Bega kwa Bega for a meal and conversation about their trip. Several members of the group wept as they recalled their impressions of poverty and the simple life of the people in the villages. Compared to their wealth and comfortable lifestyle, they wondered what they could do to make a difference.

A member of the Iringa Diocese staff, when it was his turn to speak, gently asked these people not to weep for the Tanzanians. They had everything they needed. Sure, they were poor, but they were happy. Instead, weep for people who have more than they need, because wealth has a way of masking what is truly important in life.

Sights, sounds, smells - and lessons to learn.

Preacher Tom

For my first six Sundays in Iringa, I've attended worship in different churches every week. I've listened to Don Fultz preach. I've listened to Gary Langness preach. Finally, they said to me, "Tom, it's time to get off the bench and into the game." So today, I preached.

I felt confident going into the day. I had my sermon down cold. It was good. I was going to preach on stewardship. We have been told by the leaders of the Iringa Diocese that Tanzanian Lutherans don't know much about stewardship. So I was going to preach a stemwinder. And I did. I had them nodding and saying "amen," and answering questions. It was a good sermon. They were motivated. They told how they would respond to the question, "What will I do with my abundance?" I felt great.

But what a surprise I had in store for me. During the auction after the first service, the only item to be auctioned was a bag of pumpkin leaves. Pumpkin leaves! Have you ever eaten pumpkin leaves? No need to try.

So I preached even harder in the second service. They were with me the whole time. One young lady even committed to give 50% of all her earnings to the work of the Lord. What a sermon. It was working.

Until the offering. Would you believe, all that was given for the auction was a bag of green beans and a half dozen tomatoes? I guess I needed humbling. I hadn't bowled them over like I thought. It was a zero chicken Sunday. It was good for me.

But in two weeks when I preach again......

A great memory occurred at the end of the second service, almost by accident. The local pastor found out that an elderly lady had come that Sunday to be baptized. He asked if I would baptize her. What a thrill. She was first invited to the church by her grandchildren. A granddaughter brought her forward for baptism. She could hardly stand, but she answered all the questions and in front of the entire congregation, asked to be baptized. What powerful words they were to say her name followed by, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit." She may remember that she was baptized by some gray-haired white guy. I'll forever remember the joy on her face as she rested in the promises of God. "Lord, now let your servant depart in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation..."

Who cares if it was a zero chicken Sunday. The baptism was worth the whole day.

The Elusive Chicken!

Odds and Ends

CHURCH

Another Sunday in Tanzania brought a three and a half hour worship in the village of Ihemi. We had three baptisms, communion and all of the other goodies that go with worship. The announcements alone were almost an hour. But it must have been a very good worship. The auction of items given during the offering included firewood, charcoal, a bag of potatoes, a bucket of tomatoes, corn and TWO chickens. That's right, it was a two chicken Sunday! A first in my experience.


FUND RAISING

Last night, Don and Eunice Fultz, Gary and Carol (she arrived on Friday) Langness and I attended a fundraiser for a new church building for one of the local parishes. It started at 7:00 in a beautiful banquet hall. We were told we would eat at around 8:00. We sat at a table, our ears being assaulted by loud music for two hours, before the guests of honor arrived. The guests of honor were that because they were the heavy hitters, the big money. Speeches were made by the dignitaries, including the bishop and the local political leader, more music was played and sung, and then the fundraising began. It's now 10:00. No food yet.

As a professional fundraiser (Philanthropic Adviser, you know) I was interested to know how they intended to raise the money. Their goal for the night was around $20,000. This is how they did it. With a video camera displaying its image on a large screen in the front of the hall, bright spot lights and a microphone, the lead fundraiser went around the room, person by person, and asked each person to tell what they were going to give to the project. They started at our table! At 11:45 they still weren't finished, but we had made our pledges, so we left for the night. We still hadn't eaten.

We were told the next day that they raised a little more than $15,000 with more pledges from absent people coming in.

MY WORK

My intentions in coming to Tanzania were to work with Tumaini Univeristy Iringa College on their strategic planning processes. The thought from many bright people who had visited in previous years was that Tumaini was a great school that needed a little help to plan for its future.

Much to my surprise and delight, I found that in the past year great strides had been made in their planning. Dr. Richard Lubawa, a recent PhD graduate of Luther Seminary, is doing a terrific job, leading the planning efforts. I read through the second draft of their strategic plan, being as critical as I could be, and then sat with Richard for a conversation. Believe me, he knows what he's doing. Not only is the current document very good, but they plan to revise and tighten it two more times before they are done. Every suggestion I made, he had considered and made plans to do before I arrived. My work with them was done within two and a half weeks.

Since then, I've been working with the Iringa Diocese on their planning processes, particularly as they relate to their partnership with the St. Paul Area Synod. Bishop Mdegella has repeatedly said that two things that will be required of the Iringa Diocese moving forward are transparency and accountability. He has learned from the partners in St. Paul that they have expectations of the diocese and its organizations to use the funds given wisely and for their highest priorities.

To that end, I have developed, with the diocese, a series of three simple forms to help congregations, secondary schools, hospitals, orphanages, dispenaries and any other form of the Iringa Diocese establish their highest priories. With diocese approval, once these priorities are established, they will be encouraged to contact their partner congregations with an official request for a specific project. Also, on an annual basis, a progress report is to be made to the partner congregation in St. Paul, updating them on the progress of the project and the use of their funds. I have been meeting with pastors, treasurers and other diocese leaders, teaching them how to plan and how to use these forms.

This has been most fulfilling. I can clearly see how this will help organizations in the Iringa Diocese. I trust it will also be very helpful with the partners in St. Paul.

Other than that, I've helped host groups as they visit from the U.S. I've eaten in many people's homes. I've made a great many friends among the Tanzanian Christians here. And starting next Sunday, I will begin preaching in village churches. I think I'm ready.

Pastor Laiton

Pastor Laiton is the parish pastor at Ndule, a parish about a half hour from Iringa. He was formerly the district pastor, an administrative role responsible for one-seventh of the pastors and congregations in the Iringa Diocese. He and his wife prayed to God that the bishop would decide to return him to a parish instead of his role of district pastor. Pastor Laiton never told the bishop, he just prayed to God. Just over a year ago, God answered his prayer and he was assigned the Ndule parish.

He is JOYFUL in his work! And let me tell you what he does. The Ndule parish has the main church and seven preaching points. He manages a staff of eight evangelists who preach and evangelize in the areas of the eight churches. Since he is the only pastor, communion is only served when he is available, so he moves between preaching points on his motor bike. There are buildings to build for the preaching points, people to serve with pastoral care, meetings of the elders and all of the other administrative and pastoral functions you would associate with being a pastor. That alone is a full-time job.

But he's only getting started. Around the main church building and his home is a two and a half acre plot of land he farms by hand. That means he plants the crops - rows of maize with sunflowers, beans and pumpkins planted between the rows - hoes and harvests the crop, all by hand. He raises a goat (soon to deliver young ones), four pigs (three with piglets), chickens (with tons of little chicks running around), a cow and some sheep. Strategically placed around the shamba (acreage) he has planted fruit trees. He also has a nursery started with other trees and plants to be placed in the proper spots when the time is right.

He's still not done. Some distance from his home is another twenty-two acre plot. This isn't planted, yet, but will be planted, by hand, in more crops. He has a third farm, some two hours away in his home village, where he also plans to plant more crops and raise the cow and sheep.

He has plans to plant a group of banana trees in a year and a half. So he starts now. First, he digs a hole about one and a half meters deep and fills the bottom with manure. Next he fills it with water, because the manure holds water better than soil. He also builds a trench to the hole so that rain water will fill it with more moisture. In a year and a half, he will finally plant the banana trees which will be able to withstand drought, because they have their own water supply.

When he was asked if he gets any sleep, he said he sleeps about four hours a night. And remember, he is JOYFUL in his work!

At a one-day seminar for pastors, Bishop Mdegella told all of them that they each need to have two acres of land to plant crops near their church. In addition, they all need to plant one acre of fruit trees. The food they grow to eat or sell will supplement their meager salaries. Tumaini University, through its agriculture institute, is setting up demonstration plots for theology students. That way, while they are studying to be pastors, they will also learn how to be good farmers.

The new head of secondary schools told me that as much as 65% of the tuition paid by students to attend one of the diocese secondary schools "goes right back into their stomachs." He is proposing each school get a farm, employ the students to help farm it and harvest the crops to feed the students. One five hundred acre farm on good soil and managed well, would likely produce enough corn and vegetables to feed the students at all seven secondary schools.

What impresses me about Pastor Laiton, the bishop's request of pastors and the plans for secondary schools, is that they are all lead to self-sufficiency. All are deeply appreciative of the work we do with them from the St. Paul Area Synod. But our work here is a two-way street. There is so much we can learn from them. They are bright, industrious, innovative, hard-working people who can teach us many things about life and ministry. It is a gift to be here.

"Bottoms Up" or "Thar She Blows!"

So here's the deal. I've been in Tanzania for over a month now. We've had many groups come and go during that time. Every one of them has had one or more people get sick while they're here. We console them, tell them they'll feel better soon and then go on our way and do our thing.

A new group from Christ the King Lutheran in New Brighton came in on Monday night. They came about 45 minutes before the evening meal, so we all gathered in the lobby of the Lutheran Center to get acquainted. While visiting with one lady, I bragged that I hadn't been sick a single day since coming.

No sooner had the words come out of my mouth, then I was feeling a bit dizzy. I thought that maybe my contact lens had been in too long that day, so I went home to put glasses on. I only felt worse. I begged off from dinner that night and went to bed.

The next morning, I thought I felt better so I went about my normal day's schedule, ate regular meals, but still felt a little dull. I was hoping against hope that whatever was getting me down wasn't malaria. Gary and I had chased a few mosquitoes around our apartment for a few days. I selfishly hoped they bit him and not me.

This morning I awoke and felt like someone had beat me up while I slept. My knees ached, my head hurt and my stomach was feeling off. "Mind over matter," I thought. That is until Mt. St. Helens erupted. I was very impressed with the force and velocity for such a little guy! I was much less impressed with the accuracy.

So, I took Cipro, the wonder drug and I'm laying low for the day.

The good news is that today is a real boost to my goal of losing 15 pounds while I'm here. The other good news is that I'm quite sure I don't have malaria.

Ordination Sunday

Shortly after our arrival in Iringa, we were told that on January 27, the Iringa Diocese would be conducting a service of ordination for its newest pastors. From the outset, we looked forward to this event as a real celebration of the church. It did not disappoint.

Four new pastors were to be ordained in the village of Pomern, about an hour and a half's trip from Iringa. In order to be ordained, these students must finish a course in theology at an accepted seminary (most were Tumaini University graduates) and successfully complete a six month probation period where they were working in a congregation and being observed.

Africa time and American time are two different things. So you can imagine our surprise when we arrived for the service one half hour before it was to begin and the clergy were already vested and lining up. Three choirs lined the driveway and were already singing. Sort of a battle of the church choirs. Probably 75 of the almost 110 pastors from the Iringa Diocese were participating in the worship.

It was clear from the outset that this was the bishop's show. From the organization of the long procession to the final prayer around a huge African tree, the bishop directed everything. And he directed it with flair and style. There was no need for a bulletin for worship. The bishop would point to a choir and say, "sing a song." He would announce to the congregation, "sing hymn number xxx." They sang. He would call out members of the clergy to help with different parts of the service without any advance warning. He even called me out to help serve communion to the pastors. It was an honor.

The bishop took the announcement time to announce some new positions. A man who had been the headmaster of a secondary school was introduced as the new superintendent of all seven secondary schools, a new position. I was then called forward, in front of the congregation and Bishop Mdegalla announced that I was going to teach all the pastors how to do planning. And he also announced that I was going to train the new superintendent of schools in his job. That was news to me! Happy to do it.

The service was shorter than last year. It only took four and a half hours compared to five last year. As guests of honor, the five pastors from America were ushered to seats in the very front of the church, looking out over the congregation. What a view! It was a marvelous day.

We saw a new twist on the auction of produce given during the offering. After the service we gathered in a circle outside the church. Since there was so much, the bishop called out a person's name, told that person what the item was and what they were expected to pay. That's power. It did go a lot faster that way, though.

After a some singing, a recessional march by the participants and a closing prayer, we adjourned for lunch at about 3:00.

A service like this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I am blessed to be invited and to participate in such a glorious event.

Transportation in Tanzania

Getting around Tanzania can be a real adventure. Never does a car leave the apartment complex with only one person in it. There are very few cars, so always there is someone needing a ride in the direction the car is going. But there are many ways to get around Tanzania.

The roads are busy, even if few people own cars. The most common forms of transportation are on foot, by bicycle, on a motorbike, in a car, by Landrover, using a dala dala (a small van that seats as many people as they can shove onto it) or by bus. Everyone shares the same road, whether paved or dirt. But there is a pecking order for who has the right of way.

Near as I can tell, the rule is, the fastest modes of transportation have the right of way. So everyone moves out of the way for anything with four wheels or more and an engine. Next comes anything with two wheels and an engine. Next comes anything with two wheels. Finally comes critters with two or more legs.

Pedestrians do not have the right of way. If a person is on the road and a car is coming at full speed, it's up to the pedestrian to move out of the way. The car will honk, but rarely slow down. The same is true for bicycles and animals. The only exception that I've seen so far is a herd of cows and goats. Vehicles slow down for them until their herder can clear them from the road.

It seems that bicycles are a force in commerce here. It's amazing to see what they put on those two-wheelers. I've seen such things as four people; two cases of soda; two four-foot tall bags of homemade charcoal; piles of lumber, some as long as 10 feet; eight crates of eggs; and sometimes there's even one person riding a bike! Usually, the bicycles are so heavy with their produce that the person is pushing it instead of riding it.

The roads are iffy at best. There are paved highways that aren't too bad. They are still lined with people, bikes, etc., but one can make pretty good time on them. The back roads can range from well-groomed dirt to little more than a goat path. To drive the backroads, it's best to have a four-wheel drive vehicle. Even then, it's not unheard of to get stuck. This is the rainy season, so the potholes are filled with water and soft on the bottom. There are good drivers here, so usually they make it through the tough spots without trouble.

We're on the go all the time. I haven't gotten stuck, yet, but look forward to the day. Until then, I'll just be a good passenger and leave the driving to the experts.

Another Sunday in Iringa

This is the third Sunday I've been in Iringa and the third time I'm writing about Sunday worship. As you might guess, Sunday is a highlight of the week. This week I traveled with Gary Langness to Ipogoro Lutheran Church, fifteen minutes outside of Iringa. This congregation was the first one to partner with a congregation in the St. Paul Area Synod. They partnered with Augustana Lutheran in West Saint Paul when Gary was senior pastor there. He has preached there fourteen times. There are now sixty-six congregations partnering both in the Iringa Diocese and the St. Paul Area Synod.

I think I helped gender equality at Ipogoro. I was to sit up front with the other pastors during worship. As we processed down the aisle, I noticed that there were only three chairs and four of us. I was the only one not leading worship, so I nodded to the pastor that I would slip into the front row. It wasn't until about a third of the way through the service when I noticed all the voices behind me were female voices. You guessed it. I sat on the women's side of the church. Now, as only one of two whites guys in church that morning, I stuck out as it was. Now I was downright conspicuous. Suddenly, a chair appeared from the back of the church and was planted up front with the other three. I was waved forward, asked to introduce myself, and take the new seat. Saved by the pastor!

The first service began at 7:00 a.m. That's in the morning. The church was packed. Same was true last Sunday. During my introduction, I told them that people from Minnesota wouldn't believe the church was full of singing, dancing people at 7:00 in the morning. So I took their picture.

During the two hour service, the confession and forgiveness comes about 30 minutes in. The doors are closed during confession. All latecomers must stay outside the church until confession and forgiveness are finished. When the doors opened, a whole busload of people came in. I guess they're on their own for confession this week.

Oh, and I now know where Lutherans got the idea that the back pews are the best in church. In Tanzania, those who sit in the back are ushered out first after the service. At Ipogoro, only the back half of the church pews had backs on them. The front half was just benches.

There were no screens on the windows at Ipogoro. Throughout the service, several birds flew in and out. During quiet moments when no one else was singing, the birds added their songs to worship. All creation sings praise to God.

One last thing. As the second service was to begin, Pastor Abbas, Pastor Gary, Pastor Benson and I gathered to walk into church from the back. As we stepped out of the office in an adjoining building, there were two lines of people formed in front of us. The choir. They led us singing and dancing (at least they were dancing!) through the parking lot, into the back doors of the church and down the aisle. When the service was finished, they did the same in reverse. They led us singing and dancing down the aisle, out the door, across the parking lot and into the pastor's office. Cool!

I tried uploading pictures from today's worship, but to no avail. You'll have to supply your own images.

You Know You're in Tanzania When...

Last night we were invited to dinner at the home of Immanuel and Momma Machanga. He's the contractor who has built the buildings on the Tumaini University campus. He's 72 years old, been married for 51 years and has 9 children, not all living. His home was filled with a couple of children, several grandchildren, Momma's mother (over 90 years old) and a neighbor who is Maasai.

Of all the interesting conversations I've been in since coming here, his is one of the most interesting. As Immanuel translated, this Maasai man told us he is 62 years old. He has five wives and 30 children. His oldest child is 34 years old and the youngest is 2 months. When we asked him if he could name all his children, he paused, took out his cell phone and called his youngest wife. "What's the name of our newest child?" he asked. He hung up, smiled, and told us the name. Imagine as a parent, trying to get one of your children's attention and running through 30 names before finding the right one.

He owns 500 head of cattle. When fattened for market, they will fetch about $1,500 each. They graze throughout the countryside. Masai, you know, believe all cattle belong to them. They graze them wherever they find grass. But this Masai man was also a good business man. To avoid the possibility of disease wiping out his herd, he divided them into smaller groups and grazes them in different parts of the country. Some of his sons tend the herds. He's thinking of selling his cattle and investing in land and buildings. His fellow Masai don't like to hear that.

He's told his sons, "Marry only one wife! More than one wife is too expensive." With a twinkle in his eye he added, "If I had only one wife, even she could own a car."

One of this man's sons is a theology student at Tumaini University. He's in a program called "The Wandering Shepherds Program." He will be ordained to follow the nomadic Masai tribes around to preach and teach about Jesus Christ. I don't know whether this Masai man is Christian (though he prayed with us that evening), but he is very proud of his son who will be ordained a Christian pastor.

Dirty Knees

This morning I attended two separate churches in Iringa - the Kihesa church and the Cathedral church. Both are large churches with straight-backed wooden pews neatly lining the sanctuary, but too close together for an overweight Minnesotan. As you shuffle into the pew, you step on the two-by-four wooden kneelers, barely lifted above the tiled floor. Everyone entering the pew slides their shoes across those kneelers.

Shoes scruff up the kneelers, depositing the remnants of weekly journeys. Journeys through the red soil of Africa. Telltale signs of manure from the livestock. Deposits from the market streets and shops in Iringa. Dust from homes and roadsides and the shuffling up the hill to church. As we walk across those kneelers into the pew, the busyness of our week is ground into the wood.

And then it's time for confession. We kneel, our knees firmly planted in the grime from our shoes, the grime from our lives, and we ask God to forgive us. With dirty knees, stained by the journeys of our week, we together cry to God for help, for a new start, for a clean slate.

The pastor proclaims words of forgiveness from God. All is forgiven. All is forgotten. We rise, dust the dirt from our knees and leave renewed.

The First Full Week

Everything moves slowly in Tanzania. Patience will either become a byproduct of my visit or I'll end up in a nut house. I know my family is hoping for the former, realizing I often live life closer to the latter.

For instance, it took ten days to get internet hooked up to my computer. The computer company doesn't say they'll be at your home between 1:00 and 4:00 on Tuesday. You have to go to their office - I did that three times. The owner was in Dar es Salaam and would be coming back sometime. He's the only one with the codes to hook someone up. That's OK, I can wait. Finally he comes back. It took three visits to my computer to finally get everything to work. Hallelujah!

Now, as I use the computer, I discover that the old 56K modems were a luxury. Lightening speed. It took three hours to write a new blog entry. I tried to add a picture, waited 15 minutes for it to upload, only to find out that service was interrupted during the transmission and I have to start all over. So here I am.

When it comes to moving slowly, I could talk about the traffic (surrounded by people and bicycles), banking (a simple transaction takes two hours), eating out (plan on at least an hour and a half to get your food), getting a task done uninterrupted (good luck - there are always people walking in and out of the apartment), or getting our new apartment painted (the painter has been at it for two weeks and everyday says, "one more day." He's still there).

But there are also positives to moving slowly. I've gotten to know some tremendous people. Every time you meet someone, you always take time to greet each other and visit a bit. Every afternoon at 4:30 or so, regardless of how hectic the day has been, the four of us who live together (Don and Eunice Fultz, Gary Langness and me) grab a beverage of choice, take a chair and visit.

Mealtime is outstanding. We often eat with the groups visiting from Minnesota. There have been three groups here so far. We visit about each other's day, learn about our lives and laugh a lot. Conversations are comfortable, never rushed and very enjoyable.

In this first week I've visited five churches, met tons of pastors, been on the campus of Tumaini University several times, visited a Lutheran hospital, orphanage and secondary school. I've spent time in the town market, run lots of errands, cooked breakfast with Eunice for several groups and gotten acquainted around Iringa. I've even begun to work on the strategic plan written by Tumaini University, one of my main reasons for being here. Even though the pace is slow to get things done, everyday brings progress.

So, it's been a good first week. Every day is new and different. There's so much more to see and do. I feel like I'm settling in a bit, and trying to stay focused on my work with planning and administration.

I'll try to add pictures to a later post. Four hours on this post is enough.

Worship in Kilolo

Before coming to Tanzania, those who know told me that a highlight of the trip would be worshipping in the villages throughout the Iringa Diocese. On my first Sunday here, I got to ride along with Al Klinefelter as he visited the companion congregation for his home church, King of Kings Lutheran in Woodbury. Pastor Gary Langness drove. Pastor Israel came along as an interpreter and I observed. It was a full day.

We left Iringa at 8:00 for what we thought would be a one and a half hour drive. Roads were better than expected so it only took an hour. We arrived before they expected us, but were warmly greeted. Pastor Kingonga invited us into his office to "sign the book," a ritual every visitor must do. After visiting about a half hour, we were invited into his home, next to the church, for something to eat. There we were joined by elders and evangelists for the Kilolo parish. Church was to begin at 10.

Somewhere around 10:30 the church bell rang the choir sang us into the sanctuary for worship. All distinguished guests sat in the front of the church facing the congregation. That was us! Both Gary and I were asked to bring greetings, using the interpreter. Since this was Al's companion parish, he preached. Five choir anthems, two offerings, four or five speeches, one sermon, introductions of congregational leaders, the liturgy, hymns, scripture and prayer filled the two hour service.

During the singing of one of the choir anthems, I heard a chicken clucking loudly. I thought there must be a chicken pen just outside the open window. When the offering was taken, I realized that someone brought the chicken to church to give in the offering. The chicken, along with the rest of the offering, was brought to the altar and placed beside those of us seated there. It was well behaved. After the service, all non-cash gifts given during the offering were auctioned off in the sanctuary. Not only was the chicken well behaved, but must have been very good, because it fetched $3.50. We were told later that the one auctioned in the Cathedral in Iringa only went for $1.00.

After the service, there were handshakes all around and more conversation. We were then invited back into the pastor's house to eat lunch. We were again joined by a group of about 18 people and had a feast of two kinds of chicken, rice, beans and Pepsi. As we left, the handshakes and well wishes were long and generous. I'm invited back any time.

I observed several interesting things:

Men sat on one side and women on the other, for the most part.
Liturgical dance is alive and well in Kilolo - there was dancing during every choir anthem.
God can sing louder, even than a great African choir. Even though it thundered and rained on the metal roof repeatedly during the worship, the the pastor just went on, without the aid of a microphone.
Time was suspended for one day. All that mattered was that the people were together worshipping God.
I have yet to see anyone using a cell phone while driving a car.
I've only seen about five people smoking cigarettes any time during this first week.
It would be impossible to be on a low carb diet here.

After filling the car with people needing a ride home or back to Iringa, we stopped to view two of the preaching points for the Kilolo parish, drove back to Iringa and arrived home by 4:30.

I now feel like I've been in the middle of the real Tanzania. The roads, the people, the worship, the food, the generous smiles, the celebration of people being together, the joy of making new friends - all combined to make a festive and interesting day.

I took a lot of pictures, but am still not on my own computer, so I won't be adding them yet. Soon, very soon.

The Adventure Begins

Welcome to "Tom Goes To Africa." It is my hope that this blog will serve both as a way for you to travel to Iringa, Tanzania with me and to make some observations along the way. I've never blogged before. Really, all I know how to do is type. With a little help, I hope to add pictures and will try not to bore you. Thanks for bearing with me.

I arrive in Iringa with a sense of anxiety. I plan to be here for three months, helping where I can. At least that's the attitude I feel I need as I begin. My hope is that I will be able to work with Tumaini University, a Lutheran University in Iringa, and the Iringa Diocese to help them fine-tune their administrative procedures and do long-range planning. But, I've never taken an overseas trip for three months before. There is some anxiety in that. I'll be away from Julie and my family for longer than ever before. There's anxiety in that. I have no idea how helpful I will actually be in the work I do. There's anxiety in that. There are many unknowns with travel, food, weather, disease, relationships, a new culture to me, not being the ugly American. There's anxiety in that, too.

But, having said all that, there is also a sense of adventure and excitement. How often does anyone get a chance to be a part of another culture for three months, learning about life in Africa, the Lutheran church in Africa and how a grey-haired white guy from Minnesota can make a difference. Even though three months seems like a long time from this end, I'm guessing that when it's all done, I'll wonder where the time went.

The trip over was very good. The planes were half empty, so more comfortable than usual. We had car troubles that made the usually eight hour trip from Dar es Salaam to Iringa a ten hour trip, but we made it just fine. I'm travelling with a great group of people - Don and Eunice Foltz and Gary Langness from Bega Kwa Bega, the St. Paul Synod/Iringa Diocese partnership; Al Klinefelter, and Tom and Sandy Hendrickson. All have been here before. We met Chuck and Flo Claus as we entered the apartment compound and have spent much time with them.

We were greeted by a celebration as we arrived. The bishop, general secretary and dean of the Iringa Diocese, along with several other dignitaries, hosted a dinner with speeches and great food. They were mostly celebrating the return of Don, Eunice and Gary, but I was glad to be included. This place is filled with smiles, handshakes, eagerness for partnership and many expressions of "karibu" (welcome).

The apartment Gary and I will share is not yet ready, but it's a good lesson in patience and learning how to get things done here. I'm hoping I'm still educable!

Oh, and the weather here is summer. Nothing more needs to be said.