Finding God in the Midst of Human Suffering

There's a lot to write about right now, but I'll do my best to catch you up on the highlights of this past week. Saturday was definitely one of my favorite village visits. It was one of the most wealthy villages we have been to yet, but everyone in the village is related and there were about 50 people or so living in the area. They were some of the most friendly people, especially men, we have met. There were about 5 men who just sat and talked with Josh and I for over an hour about everything and it was good practice of our Swahili. It was welcoming because we knew they were laughing with us and not at our broken Swahili. The rest of the young men sat to the side and listened to the conversation, while the older men gathered around close and really engaged in conversation. I think everyone was a lot better at shirades by the time we left. As always, the men are always want me to take them back to America when I go, so I tell them I'm taken, but there are twelve single girls coming from Wartburg in May who would be interested, and that distracts them.
The women prepared us chai and biscuits, then the men served us a large plate of goat 'meat' and soda. I learned a good lesson that day. If you aren't aggressive about getting the pieces you want, you'll get the 'tender stuff' (a.k.a the liver). They thought they were being thoughtful so they kept offering it to me as I would politely say 'inatosha, inatosha' (it's enough, it's enough). But they were persistent so I had to accept it and pretend to be grateful, meanwhile I was trying to swallow the last two pieces without chewing so I couldn't taste it.
Then came the next course of bananas cooked in a lot of animal fat with lots of other interesting parts of the goat or cow or something: spinal bones, stomach, tongue, You name it, they cooked it. And after the service, there was rice with beans and more meat and soda. Luckily Josh and I shared a plate since they are enormous and I prefer to eat with my hands anyway. We kept trying to quietly pass the other person all the pieces of unidentifiable meat until someone eventually gave in and ate it.
Sunday, I woke up not feeling so well. Here the polite way to say it is that I've been driving all night (you figure it out), perhaps I ate a little too much animal fat the day before. But as always, I just tell myself I will be fine, and hop in the car for the next adventure. I'm glad I did because this was probably one of the unforgettable experiences I had here. It's unusual for us to be allowed to sit in the back of the church, but since we had the teachers with us, they let us. Somewhere near the middle of the service, a young boy wrapped in a white cloth (which indicates that he wasn't even old enough to have been circumcised yet), walked in and sat down in front of us. The first thing I saw on the exposed part of his back were the markings of what I could tell were recent whippings, most likely with a long thin branch that was more like a whip. He had dozens of raised lines going in all directions and at least four or five of them had two or three inch open wounds in the skin from being hit so hard.
After the service I said something to PH, as I knew how I felt about this, but I didn't know how to react to it. You hear so many stories about these sorts of things that it I'm sure this kind of abuse runs the risk of just being common place here, but it certainly isn't for me. PH signaled the boy to come over so he could see his back, and then he questioned the boy and the villagers about who had done this to him. They said that there is a man in the village who wants to sleep with his mom who is a widow, but she refuses, so this man often comes to their house drunk and does these kind of things. Why there isn't someone in the village who steps up to stop it, or an uncle of the mother who will protect them, I don't understand. I don't understand the mentality of people who can see these kinds of things and just let them continue, especially to the children. No one seemed to alarmed about the situation except me and PH. I had so many different responses to the situation that I didn't even know what to think. My heart broke for him because I knew there was nothing I could do for him. All we could do was give him some candy and see him smile for a few minutes and know that we hadn't done anything to permanently change his life or the suffering that he is most likely going to endure again soon. If I had the option, I would have taken him home with me, but even that wouldn't have stopped this man from hurting someone else. I was pained because the reality of the situation is that his very existence is for the purpose of caring for his mother when she is old because she is a widow. So many children here are only conceived eithera a boy can take care of his mother, or a girl will bring her mother or father cattle when she is married off. And when this is the mentatily, the women get married off at very, very young ages. You can't deny the logic behind it, but I can't help but question the heart behind it. It's hard to see children who were born not to be cared for, but only to care for his parents or to get them more money.
My teacher even told me a story about a tribe in Arusha where the women believe that if their husband doesn't beat them and punish them that he doesn't love her. Where does that kind of mentality come from? I feel like you'd have to be brainwashed to believe that, but I was also raised in a culture of feminists, so how do I know what it's like. I just don't get it. If it makes the inevitable beatings they will face a little less painful, then okay, I understand that. But if they really believe that love looks like that, I'm at a complete loss.
The more and more stories I here, like the stories about the old testament ways they use here to punish thieves, the more I realize that in some ways, these people are left with little choice sometimes, and it seems that they almost have to become numb to suffering. When there is no government to protect your rights or your property, or the government that exists will take your very livelihood from you, you have no choice but to defend yourself and your property. The people are forced to take action and punish people as they see fit. Unfortunately, the reality is that if the people don't give a harsh enough punishment, then everyone would take advantage of everyone else. How do you bring peace into a country where there is no one or no system set in place to deal immoral acts. The people are left with few ways to enforce punishment without brutal force. If someone steals from you and they are caught, what authority do you have to fine, them or lock them up in your house, but if you let them go they'll do it again. At the same time, the methods they do use to deal with theft or other crimes are crazy and I'm not even going to talk about them here. All I know is that if I ever see a group of people chasing someone down the street, I don't want to see what's going to happen next.
There's so much I don't understand right now. Sometimes I ask God why He doesn't come back and save His people. I don't understand how He can allow people to just go on destroying other people. When I see even just the terrible things that can happen even in one country whether it be Tanzania, Mexico, Guyana, or America, I almost wonder why God doesn't just flood the earth again and start over. But the reality is, it would still be a world full of humans, and where there are human beings, there will always be pain and suffering. When I see these things I find myself angry with God. But when I ask God how He can let this happen, I am reminded that He may let it happen, but we humans have made it happen. He gave us free will, and we have chosen to do this to our own kind. He didn't make it happen and He won't make us fix it, but He let us make this mess and He will let us fix it if we choose. I don't think I've ever had so many questions about God and yet been so convinced of His existence all at the same time.
I will leave on a positive note, which is this. In the midst of my inability to comprehend all that I have seen in this country, I have also never felt more in communion with people as I do when we go to a village and are welcomed by the people so openly, or when I go to the church services here at LJS with all of the secondary students. There is something about worshipping God with them that gives me this sense of oneness that I have never felt before. When I listen to them sing hymns and praise songs, I often get this amazing feeling inside, almost like goosebumps on the inside. And I've never been much into the liturgy because I wasn't raised with it so it is hard for me to get into that mindset, but there's something about it here that carries so much meaning. There's something incredible about the only white person in a room of a couple hundred Tanzanians, and being able to share in worshiping the same God.

Why them God, why not me?

I have to laugh as I read back through some of my old blogs and see all of the spelling and grammar errors I've made and haven't taken the time to correct. Sorry about that. Blogspot.com doesn't seem to have spell check...oh, just kidding, there it is!! It seems that the more Swahili I learn, the worse I become at writing English because I start spelling words with there vowel sounds instead of the correct ones. But the good news is that after 2 months I'm more than 2/3 done with the books which means I'll have plenty of time to finish the course and hopefully get better at interpretting it. I don't have too much trouble speaking, I feel like people can at least understand what it is that I'm attempting to say even if I am sloughtering their language a little.

On a completely different note, Josh and I spent our last weekend in Dodoma visiting Audrey and Paul at the Water Project. It was a relief to get a weekend away and taking the bus is always an adventure. The bus was only an hour and a half late this time, and no fallen power-lines like the last time so we got there in the expected 3 1/2 hours which was a lot better than the 6 it took us last time. We both were excited to relax for a few days, enjoy a couple of movies, eat a few meals in which the food that would be on your plate couldn't be predicted in advance, and see some new things. I really couldn't believe how good a tuna salad sandwhich could taste after 2 months of rice, beans, cooked spinach, and various types of unrecognizable meat. It was Wonderful!!

On Sunday morning before we got back on the bus to head back, Paul and Audrey took us to see the Village of Hope which is an AIDs orphanage in Dodoma. They currently have about 170 children from the ages of 0 to 18 and they have been going for 7 years now. Within the walls of the village, they have housing, schools, nurses/doctors, cooks, a farm, and everything they need to be self-sufficient in their operation. The organization was started by a group of Italians, some of which we had the opportunity to meet. They employ a lot of Tanzanian workers to help care for the facilities and the children, but they have staff from Italy there at all times. The facilities were pretty incredible and it was amazingly well kept.

But I can't lie, when I first walked stepped out of the car to see the facility and our car was being swarmed by little children, most of whom look quite healthy, I couldn't keep my heart from breaking knowing the future that awaits them. The same feeling overwhelmed me again as I stepped into the nursery and saw these tiny babies whom had the smallest little wrists and legs I've ever seen and they were 6 and 8 months old. At first I just wanted to cry because it's overwhelming to be surrounded by so many children who all posses the same fate. Then I was happy because after seeing the facilities I knew that there is no better possible care they could have than being right where they are. No one can change the fact that these children have AIDs, but they can give them the best possible chance at survival, and that is certainly what these kids have. In fact, in the past 7 years, the Village of Hope has only lost 2 children. (The child below is 3 years old, but he is much more like a two year old as far as physical capabilities go. It usually takes them about 6 months to get a new child to a healthy weight and good health).

It's that feeling that comes next that I hurts the most. The one where you ask God why these children got dealt the crappy hand in life and I got dealt the good one. The one where you ask God why I deserve to have so many blessings in my life while these kids get the short end of the stick by no fault of their own, and now they have to deal with it for the rest of their lives. Inside of my head I was screaming, "Why do they deserve this??!! and Why do I deserve something Better?!!" I think I was yelling at God a little, maybe even a lot, on the inside as I looked at one of those children and wished with all of my heart that I could trade places with him and give him all of the blessings I have had in my own life.

It's one of those experiences, you know. The one that makes you appreciate everything you've ever had and wonder how you ever found things to complain about. It's kind of like when I go out to the village and one of the elders asks a child, (probably one that isn't even his own), to do something or fetch something for him. Without a moments hesitation or a question on his lips the child jumps up and does it. It's engrained in the children to respect their elders. Everytime I see this little senario play out, I can't help but remember all of the times that my own father asked me to go get him a can of pop from downstairs or grab something out of the car or whatever the case may have been, and I remember a quite different response that I gave to my father's request. I think it was something like, "Why do I have to go get YOU pop? Your two legs work just as well as mine." Yeah, not some of my prouder moments in life. I'm just glad my dad didn't have a cane to prod me with like some of the old men here.

I think I spent my entire bus ride home from Dodoma thinking about all the things in life that I've taken for granted. But you can't live dwelling on those things; you can only learn to appreciate the opportunities you have been given and to use them to change the lives of others, like these children.

I'm running out of titles...

My mom asked me to follow up on my ideas about the advantages/disadvantages I see in the westernization of the culture in the midst of what I blogged about as far as being a woman in Africa. Thanks for the feedback. I really do like hearing what questions people have about what I feel or think. I want to be challenged in it because I know I'm not always right in it, but people are often too passive and too afraid of conflict to make people stop and think about it. I encourage bluntness if you so desire to give it.

As far as the advancement of the culture goes, here's how I'm feeling. (I'm not trying to solve the world's problems, just convey what I am observing). There is a lot about this culture that is beautiful (maybe good or functional is a better word, because the beauty I see here may be a biased by the fact that I am also a sojourner here and can leave and escape it whenever I want. So I appreciate seeing a country that doesn't look just like my own. Why else is traveling so appealing, right? Maybe that's a selfish viewpoint to take on it). There is also a lot about this culture that is rooted in ignorance and a lack of education and would make a better world if it did disappear.
As Americans who have so much, we expect a lot. To see the simplicity of the lives of people here is honestly challenging at times (I don't mean simple as in easy, but simple as in more easily contented). It's difficult to see someone lying outside their house on a mat like they've been lying there for hours and not find yourself asking how boring a life that must be. I always have to shove down the notion to feel that way because it’s wrong to see it like that. It's hard to see that kind of life and realize that their life is still good too; I wouldn't choose it for my own because I have different experiences, but it doesn't mean it's bad, just different. If they have a roof over there head, food in their belly and water to drink, they don’t find much to complain about. Before we jump in and try to change everything that we perceive with a 'poor them' attitude 'how do we fix this?', we must remember that just because their daily life doesn't consist of the same kind of activities, events, and responsibilities as ours do, that they're lives are less full or less satisfying, Bringing a Wal-mart, McDonalds, a shopping mall or just a whole bunch of money here, isn't going to make their lives more fulfilling. On some level, I think the opposite. Now, family is valued, friends are valued, strangers are shown hospitality (mostly, I'm sure not always). They find joy in relation with people. What other country in the world can you drink tea 6 times in one day because people want to talk to you. I think as humans we were meant to find joy in relation with other people. God created us for relation with him and I think it's an essential need that we all have (K, maybe Chai 6 times a day isn't necessary nor good for your health with that much sugar, but it’s still good).
As Americans or westerners, we spend are lives seeking happiness in possessions, reputations, accomplishments, etc. We've all heard it said that the more we have the more we want. It's true. None of us could step into the life of a Maasai villager and live contented for the rest of our lives because we would want/'need' too much. In a discussion with PH I asked him how money has affected the villagers, and he said that in his time he has seen that the more and more the money (the physical kind, not just in the form of cattle and goats) becomes a part of the lives of these people, the more likely they are to abandon their neighbor. Life becomes more and more about material possessions and less about relationship. Money leads to selfishness; everyone starts asking what they can get for themselves. There's more temptation to go spend your money at the bar or buy something new than to share your wealth with a hungry widow. I think we can all identify with that temptation. It’s easier to buy ourselves a nice supper than to give the money to a hungry person.
But it can't be denied that there are several customs that continue to be practiced so frequently here that are without a doubt harmful and would probably be better off done away with. And as I mentioned in my last blog, the way women are treated is not the way that I would ever want to live. And yes, that does have a lot to do with a lack of education. Maasai are very smart people; I have no doubt about that at all. But when practices have been around for years and years, it's hard to convince people that it really isn’t the best way to do things. Just look at what it took for us to do away with slavery in the US. Only after a war was the practice of slavery done away with. Now that we have seen things differently, we will never go back. So to look down on them for continuing these customs and practices isn't fair because we have our own mistreatments to judge first. America drops bombs on people in other countries like they aren’t people just like you and me. So to say that we treat people more fairly or humanely would be pointing out the speck in someone else's eye when we've got a log in our own. I don't sit here justifying any of these practices, but I can't help but feel a rage of anger and bitterness when I hear someone who steps out of a country where the money reads ‘God Bless America’ refer to Africa as a 'God forsaken country' because of the hardship and unfair treatment they have seen here. I’ve heard it said more than once, and I had to refrain myself from bursting out in outrage.
I just had a friend return from a service-trip in East Saint Louis. She said it made her absolutely sick that there is a place that is so stuck in crime and poverty in our own backyards and that most people aren't even aware of it. I was aware of this place as I have heard people talk about it before, but have never been there myself. Whether you’re in East St. Louis or Africa, sometimes you can’t help but wonder how God can allow such suffering to exist in the world. But as I said before, I think if we asked God he would ask us the same question in response.
Believe me, my heart hurts to hear stories of people's cattle stolen or women raped or people being killed and to know that their offenders may not face any punishment for their offenses. I don't desire to see those sorts of practices continued or ignored. But that isn't the whole culture here. Just as the ‘white-picket fence family’ is far from the whole picture in America. I guess I'm torn. I want their way of life to improve in many aspects: I wish they had better health care, I wish they had better education, I wish they didn't have to carry a five gallon pail of water on their heads for miles (but even fetching water is such a relational task for the people here that they don't really mind). But there life is still functional and satisfying, and it would also be sad to see relationship among people broken.
At least without shopping malls and Wal-mart one stop shops, the small shops and street vendors are able to exist in abundance and they are essential in keeping so many people going with just enough money each day to feed their family and keep a roof over their head. To change that would mean less jobs and more people with no money at all (we've seen that even in America). The bigger things get the greater the spread becomes between the poor and the wealthy. It seems better in some ways for everyone to have enough, than for a few people to have a lot, and a lot more people to have nothing.
So mom, does that sort of answer your question? Please add your own thoughts. Don't just take my word for it. I really care what anyone has to say.

How many Cattle is a girl worth?

On our last village visit, I'm pretty sure there was an offer made of 1,500 head of cattle for me! And I'm almost certain that PH would have snatched it up if he had any claims over me, but he was worried there might me someone back home, who is both younger and stronger, who might not be too happy if he let that happen. But it sure made me appreciate the freedom to not only choose IF I will marry, but who. The freedom to choose is not the reality of most women in Africa.I have begun to take a special interest in trying to find out what it is to live as a woman in Africa.
I still know so very little about what it really means, and at times, I'm not sure I want to know any more because it makes my stomach knot to even think of having to live such a life. I seem to have a slight advantage to obtaining knowledge about the customs and culture surrounding dating/marrying among both the maasai and swahili because many of the teachers here are near the age of marrying and enjoy telling me about their culture; likewise they enjoy hearing about mine.
It's interesting! Even the language itself makes the American way of marriage difficult to explain in the Swahili language. For example, in Swahili, it can only be said that a man marries a woman, but a woman is married by a man. It does not make sense in this language to say that a woman marries a man. Here, a woman can not marry, she can only be married. I spent a half-hour trying to explain to a teacher what it means for two people to marry eachother; the idea that both people have to give consent and agree to the marriage. Furthermore, they are shocked that we can talk about boyfriends and girlfriends openly in our culture and that it is acceptable and even encouraged to bring them home to meet our parents. Here, dating is not an acceptable practice. It is becoming more common among the younger generations, especially among the Swahili people, but it must still be done in secret from the partents.
Among the Maasai, marriages are still arranged for the most part. The most frequent question I get asked is how much a man would have to pay my dad if he wanted to marry me. By pay, he really means how many cattle would he have to give him. However, a few weeks ago PH tried to sell me off to a teacher for a 'cup of fish and a pocket of coconut' to one of the teachers here (I'm hoping that he meant to say a bucket of fish and a bag of coconut and it just got lost in translation). It's sort of a running joke around here. The language also has a special word that can be used to generalize a group of women which means 'those mamas', but the same term is NOT allowed to be used with a group of men ever. Only women are allowed to be generalized. Also, the term used for a pregnant woman is literally translated to 'a woman who is becoming heavy'. I don't know too many pregnant women who would appreciate being referred to that way, but being told you're heavy isn't an insult here.

Last week when we went to the village, there was a young woman that approached me after the service and right behind her was a whole bunch of young girls. I could tell they were all quite shy, but that they were all very curious about my white skin and long hair. As she approached me she got very, very close, like within an inch of my face (no such thing as a personal bubble in Africa, that's for sure), and then put her hand on my arm and started to pet my arm, then wanted to feel my hair because it is so long. Soon all of the children wanted to touch it, so I knelt down so they could all feel it. As I let all of the children pet and observe me for about a half-hour, I began to ask this woman how old she was. We soon figured out that we were both 22. She then told me that the girl standing to the left of me was her first born and the girl to my right was her second born. I'm sure I looked a little shocked as I asked how old they were. She said 7 years, and 3 years 5 months. I know women have children young here, but to be standing with a girl the same age as me with her two daughters and one up to my chest, I just couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be responsible for that at the age of 15.
In the same village, we watched the women make tea over a fire with the typical 3 stones making a firepit just big enough to hold some firewood and balance a pot just above the fire. The women stand bent over the fire cooking and stirring for quite a while. PH kept joking that John must have sent me here to learn what a it means to be a wife because I'm not domesticated enough, and Luca kept joking that it would be better if I was one of two wives so that when I get sick there is someone else to do my work. I knew they were kidding, but it's the reality that so many of these women face for their entire lives. Being one of 6 wives; getting 1/6 of a persons love and affection, while he gets the affection of 6 wives all for himself; to have been circumcised as a young child and to be used for his satisfaction but never be allowed to know that kind of pleasure yourself; to work so hard all your life just to survive and protect your family.

You just have to look at their feet. They tell a story and you can see the kind of life they have lived. Their feet are so calloused and cracked and worn. You know that they have walked more miles barefoot on those feet than any of us would dare to imagine, while carrying a 5 gallon pale of water on their head and a child on their back and a knife in their hand and the sun beating down on them. It's just the way life is here. I often look at their way of life and wonder how they can be happy. But I have to remember that this is the life they know and as long as they have their family and water to drink and food in their stomaches, they are happy. It's true that the more we have, the more we expect because I know that I would go crazy trying to live that kind of life because I've experienced a different kind of life.
But I have found that there is hope for these women, and men too. I had the opportunity to stay the night in a village with the family of a young girl of 21. Her mother is one of 5 wives, her mother is the third. Of all of her father's children, she is the first to have the opportunity to attend secondary school. After completing the first 4 Forms (grades) and having only 2 more to go, she got pregnant, not by choice but by force. With the help and guidance of PH and some other mentors, she was able to return back to school while her mother cared for the child. She has now completed all the forms and is awaiting her test results and is optimistic about her chances to attend a university her in Tanzania. After talking to her about her goals, I gained a lot of hope. As an educated woman, the reality of her life has changed dramatically. She has gained the respect of her father and as a result, she will be allowed to choose her own husband and will not get married until after she has finished school. She also is so well informed about the struggles that her village and surrounding villages face and she is eager to stay in Tanzania and work to educate people so that they are better able to change their own reality. It was exciting and encouraging to be able to talk with a girl who brings hope to her country. I believe that educating the people of Tanzania and Africa, people like Sarah, so that they have the means by which to begin to change their own reality is the only long term solution to the issues in this country. We can try, as outsiders, to force our ways on them. But the truth is that they have to want the change, and the change has to come from within them. There is much more to talk about here, but I think I'll save it for another day. Good night!

Religion Across Cultures-Reflection

Christianity in Tanzania accounts for the beliefs of approximately 1/3 of the population and is on the upswing. In PH's time here he has seen an increase from 1,900 people attending the various churches he has had his hand in planting (and by that, I really mean that he has devoted his life to seeing established) to the current 18,000+ attendees in any of the 124 churches, and they are growing all the time. PH often talks about the changes in relationships that he has seen result from such an increase, mostly the peace that has come among Maasai relationships with the farmers. It certainly is far from gone, but the Maasai are much less likely to retaliate in anger, which means a lot less people being killed over stolen cattle. They are much more likely to use peaceful means to solve the problems like a public protest or taking there issues before a government official and demanding to be protected/compensated for losses.

I have really enjoyed getting to know and understand PH's beliefs and take on Christianity, especially evangalism. I can fully appreciate his openness to differences among different Christian beliefs. He seems to really get what I feel it means to preach the Gospel of Christ, rather than 'though shall not ___'. I think it's something that I and many other Christians could use a lesson on: knowing what is worth 'preaching' and what is better left to God to deal with in the heart of each individual (I use the term preaching losely because I think that it too often is used in reference to the words we speak, rather than the actions we display). As a young person raised in a Baptist church, I came to believe that we were the only church who had any idea about what was going on (not about the Jesus thing, but about all that secondary doctrine that has been changed and modified by every church throughout history). Okay, there may have been a few other churches that had it almost right, but in my ignorance, I still thought that God liked us more because we had it alllll figured out. Ha! Fortunately I have seen through my ignorance and had my views and my opinions challenged, criticized, battered, and pretty much shattered, not about Jesus, but about everything else that we associate with Jesus: baptism by immersion or sprinkling, infant baptism or believer baptism, abortion, homosexuality, what role does Mary play anyway?, what role should women play in the church?, did God really turn water into wine or was that just grape juice??. I don't think this belief that 'we've got it all figured out' is uncommon among most churches, hence why so many different denominations continue to exist and why more and more have continued to arise. I think that's the hardest/saddest part of observing Christianity here in Tanzania. The separation among denominations still exists and it’s only going to increase as more and more churches around the world continue to work on their own to establish their own sect of Christianity. Go into any village that has a Lutheran church here, and you'll almost certainly find a Catholic and/or Assembly of God church as well; meanwhile, there are other villages who don't have a church at all. It's like a competition among churches to see who can get the most people and who can get there beliefs most widely accepted. PH said that in one village we went to, an Assembly of God church was established after the Lutheran church had already been around for a while, but the Assembly of God church decided to implement a keyboard and some other instruments to liven up the place and to attract the young people. It worked until the Assembly of God Church told them that they all would have to be re-baptized because they had been baptized in the Lutheran church by sprinkling so it didn't really count (still sounds like home). My intention is not to point out anyone denomination as being right or wrong, but that is one example of the type of situation that has occurred. Another village that already has an Assembly of God and Lutheran Church now has an enormous Catholic church being established that is so large (and unecessary in my mind, bells and all) that I’m convinced that 3 or 4 adequate churches could have been built for the same amount of money. What is it with building anyway? I thought people were the Church of Christ.

The Bible it says, "There is one body and one Spirit - just as you were called to one hope when you were called - one Lord, one faith, one BAPTISM; one God and Father of ALL, who is over all and through all and in all." Ephesians 4:4-6. I think that if water wasn't such a precious commodity around here, PH would dig a big pool and have a small tub of water in every church, under the same roof, and let people pick which method they wanted just to show that it is not the method by which you are baptized that God was trying to stress, rather it waste the meaning behind the act. It has always been my desire to see the Church united as God intended it to be (did God even intend for churches to be a word?), to be one Body of people all working for the same purpose. Shane Claiborne referenced this quote in his book the "Irresistible Revolution". It says, "We've got to unite ourselves as one body. Because Jesus is coming back, and he's coming back for a bride, not a harem."

Another interesting point that I have encountered here is all of the encounters with spirit possession. In one service, we saw 5 or 6 women possessed by spirits. Apparently it’s because they often go to the witch doctor in desperation of healing and instead are given these evil spirits. I have begun to wonder in my many encounters with this, why evil spirits are so present among Christians here and not among Christians in America (or at least no the ones I’ve met). We worship the same God and are attacked by the same Devil, so why do we not see this sort of thing in churches back home (not that I'm disappointed by it, I'm just truly curious)? Have we some how escaped this? Are we to ‘advanced’ for that sort of thing? I find it strange that all of the evil spirits I’ve ever seen have been in the last two months and confined to one continent. Are we missing some aspect of the spiritual world? And are we just as incapable of experiencing the power of the Holy Spirit as we are of these evil spirits, as both are biblical? If you have an opinion/idea, I'd love to hear it!

Always a reason to smile

In the midst of any frustration that I have expressed, I should assure you that this place never leaves me without a reason to smile. Everyday I find more and more reasons to laugh, sometimes just on the inside as I don't want to offend the people here because I find there way of life somewhat amusing.
Tonight we went out to town after class and then decided to stay and get something to eat at a nice resaurant in town. Because we are all getting an idea of how Tanzanian culture works, we decided that we would start by asking if there was anything on the menu that they were out of. After being assured that they had everything on the menu, we got excited about the possibilities that awaited us...anything that didnt' include rice, ugali, porage, or beans sounded great to all of us. As we began to order, the waiter decided to inform us that they are currently out of prawn and calamari. Well okay, we can work around that. So we confirmed that there was in fact other seafood, just not prawn or calamari. Yes, yes, yes, they have everything else. Okay, so here we go. We start ordering and everyone orders a Bacon Cheeseburger except the German woman who orders king fish. Ten minutes later, the waiter comes back out to inform her that they are out of king fish. So she is a little disappointed, but she decided a pizza would be just fine. Our food comes out and we all thoroughly enjoy it (minus the fact that the German doctor kept telling me about all of the tapeworms that could be living in my undercooked hamburger, but I figure I've eaten worse and continue my meal in peace). When we finish, they ask if we'd like dessert. We said we'd like to see a menu, so he brings all of us a menu to look over and walks away. After looking over the 6 or 7 options and all deciding on the vanilla ice-cream and brownie, the waitor comes back after a few minutes to take our order. As we begin to order the ice-cream With Brownie, he decides that now would be a good time to tell us that the only dessert they have today is vanilla ice-cream. Well, I guess that puts a damper on the chocolate brownie. We were all quite convinced that they could have been out of everything including the vanilla ice-cream and they still would have offered us dessert.
Afterwards, was almost as funny when we crammed six people plus the drivier into a car no larger than my toyota camry, and I was by far the smallest one in the car by almost half the size. One german, the Texan, and the boy with a Scottish accent (Scott) sat in the back while the German woman laid across their lap, while Josh crawled in the front seat, which left me in Josh's lap curled up so my feet were the dash board and my knees pressed against my chest. It was probably only a 7 or 8 minute ride back, but it felt like an eternity. When we arrived back at the school safely, the door wouldn't open so the driver had to try and reach through us and finangle it open. when it opened, I literally just rolled out on the ground, landing on my hands because my feet were still caught in the dash. It's definitley true that there is no such thing as a personal bubble in Africa.
Sometimes I don't know if it is a simplicity of African life or sheer genius that makes Africans so creative. Last night we went to supper and were just getting our daily rice, potatoes, spinach, and beans, when we came across a pot that had meet on what appeared to be metal skewers... until we looked closer only to realize that they weren't actually skewers at all but the spokes from bicycle tires. I don't know, I guess I thought it was pretty funny considering the number of times I've wanted a skewer at home and not had one. I never would have thought to take apart an old bike tire and start stabbing meat with it to throw over a fire.
This is another funny one from Paul. Paul told Josh and I a story about a time he was out in a Maasai village visiting with the people, and you might guess that there is nothing taboo in this culture about a mother just whipping out her boob to nurse her baby (Breasts are functional here so if you need to use it, use it). Anyway, Paul thought it a bit strange when one day he saw a mother holding a young child in one arm while her other son, who was old enough and tall enough to stand up and stare his mom right in the chest, stood next to her munching on popcorn while stopping every once in a while to grab a drink of milk from his mother's breast. I guess when cow milk gets hard to come by, there are ways around it.
One last short story for the evening before I head to bed. This is one from the Texan woman here who told us about her experience with the 'plumber'. As part of the organization she works for, she has her own house to live in with a few workers to take care of daily chores. One day, she discovered that a pipe barried pretty deep below the ground had a leek that she didn't think she could fix herself. So instead of trying, she decided to call a plumber. he said he'd be there around nine in the morning. As three in the afternoon rolled around, the plumber finally showed up at her gate. Being from America and familiar with the plumbers who drive big white trucks with lots of tools, she is at the very least expecting someone to come to the door equipped and ready to fix the leak. But when she walks outside, she finds a man hopping of his bicycle with nothing more than a role of tape in his hand and just standing there smiling at her. All she could think was, what is this man going to do with a roll of tape, no shovel, and a leaking pipe six feet below the ground?
I can't help but to smile at the way of life here. I don't mean that in an insensitive way, but in the midst of a country where poverty and suffering are so prominent, sometimes you just have to take the laugh where you can get it.