Dar Es Salaam is know as the Bongo (brain) of Tanzania because you need your brain to survive here. Abel and I came, really, for two reasons: a break from living in the bush, and to watch the Passion of Christ. Mission accomplished. First night in town: we ate at Shooter's Grill, a little place with plenty of flava and one-kilo t-bone steaks. While the larger guys worked on expanding their kitambi's, I opted for the more refined meal: prawns served up portuguese style. I have never been so satisfied: spice blended with the tastiest meat in three months. We sat back and thumped our "kabuli ya kuku" (na ngombe, na samaki, na anyama wengine wote) and chatted happily about the church in Tanzania. We even got interviewed for Tanzanian TV!
The next day we tackled mission #2. After wandering around the city doing business, we headed north to the New World Cinema (emblazoned on the outside with the slogan, "Let's Go Movies!"). The Passion of Christ had been extended for another week, and we caught it on the last day. We were the only three people in the theater. Sure, I could quibble on a few of the emphases or details, especially after Life of Christ with Dr. Paige last semester...but who can argue that this is the most awesome story ever. There were only six eyes in the audience, but every one of them, Tanzanian and American, was crying by the end.
There is so much to think about: about sacrifice, about living a noble life, about living for something greater than the mundane or self. But, being an intercultural studies student, two things stick out particularly well. One...Jesus was a carpenter in a "Two-Thirds World" country. He lived in a simple brick house, worked with his hands, had no doctors or nurses or hospitals. There were no movies or TVs or Walmarts. He lived a life much like the one we saw in homestay villages; he can truly say, "Life is more than posessions." One of the things I have struggled with the most in Tanzania is the utter disparity in what Dr. Perkins (the elder) calls "Life Chances." I had the chance for so much more than anyone else: Western Education, Western freedom, movies, music, an awesome house and household, a stay-at-home mom...how does that work? How is it fair? What makes life good, and meaningful, especially when there is so much disparity?
Jesus, too, didn't have those chances. Jesus lived a third world life, and not as a king or a merchant, but a tradesman. Life is more than things, it is more than opportunities...
The other thing I noticed was that Jesus looked a lot like Aragorn. And there is not a lot of time to say much more except that I kept expecting him to whip out a sword and kill people, or fight...but he didn't. He's a different kind of hero than we're used to.
29 April 2004
25 April 2004
Death Toll:
One Goat
Five Ducks (three by the hand of Dan...but one got away!)
One Cow
Two Vultures
Myriads of Mosquitoes
An Unidentified Bird (cut down midair by piki piki)
And so Dan leaves the Rukwa Valley...
Today Abel the Victorious (can anyone tell I've been hanging out with a certain Lord of Destruction, Colton "Coltonius" Rabenold?) and I mounted our trusty Honda XL125S and piki piki'd our way up several thousand feet of "escrapment" and out of the Rukwa Valley. It was a harrowing journey over massively rutted "roads" complete with mudholes, large rocks, washboarding, and suicidal cows. To say we drove, or perhaps rode, out would be overly generous to the Tanzanian road system. I think bounced and slid and whined would do better credit to the road and the pretentious little mutt of a dirtbike that brought us all those dusty miles. One of the hairiest, and most exhilirating rides of my life. That I have no (new) wounds is a testament to the white-knuckled panache of good man Abel, who put in a good six hours of intense riding to haul my butt out of the valley.
So here I sit in an Internet Cafe, serenaded by trashy American rap as usual, thinking "How can a valley become a home so quickly?" It's sad to pack up and leave another familiar place, especially the Rukwa. It's a rough and ready and rollicking place, like that grizzled uncle you never thought you'd warm to until you finally lived with him for a while. Sure it's burning hot in the day, but a quick plunge into the swimming pool and an exhilirating starlit open-air shower, powered by all the pressure of a clear mountain waterfall, and it's totally worth it. The roads are bad, and for it all the more enjoyable on dirt bikes.
I think what really got me was the people. First, the Rabenolds, with intensity and joy for any guests that dare apply. Then Abel and Samara and Bryan and the other guests, joining in enthusiastically. Then the locals, as ready to laugh with you as at you, to offer their hospitality and then pull you aside and ask for your shoes. They really made Rukwa happen for me, challenging me to stop maintaining the distance of a student, passing through, looking for information and good experiences. To open up and try to connect even a little with people I will never see after this week. To learn people's names anyway. I gave the people of Rukwa a chance to be people...and they gave me a chance to feel at home.
So, Rukwa: I'll miss you and your friendly, forward people. We watched the Jesus movie, together this time, and it was new for both of us. My one prayer is that someone will come and tell that story for the first time to the Wasukuma, for whom it is still a story of the Wafipa and the Europeans. That someone will come to sit under a tree and wave a stick and tell it so it hits your heart and becomes your story, just like it is becoming mine.
In the meantime...the main events, for the people at home:
-helped clear and airstrip; watched an AIM Air puddle jumped come into our wilderness valley
-went babboon hunting. couldn't find any babboons. headed off to the lakes. killed ducks with shotguns.
-killed and ate a cow. and a goat. ate the ducks too. except for the one that flew away...after being shot and having his neck wrung by one very inexperienced young man and two very seasoned hunters. chased unsuccessfully by one angry young man.
-showed the Jesus film in Kiswahili, while conversing with lauging wasukuma and drunk village people.
-was told by said village people that I do not know how to play the drums. or dance. or speak kiswahili. but had fun at the outreach anyway.
One Goat
Five Ducks (three by the hand of Dan...but one got away!)
One Cow
Two Vultures
Myriads of Mosquitoes
An Unidentified Bird (cut down midair by piki piki)
And so Dan leaves the Rukwa Valley...
Today Abel the Victorious (can anyone tell I've been hanging out with a certain Lord of Destruction, Colton "Coltonius" Rabenold?) and I mounted our trusty Honda XL125S and piki piki'd our way up several thousand feet of "escrapment" and out of the Rukwa Valley. It was a harrowing journey over massively rutted "roads" complete with mudholes, large rocks, washboarding, and suicidal cows. To say we drove, or perhaps rode, out would be overly generous to the Tanzanian road system. I think bounced and slid and whined would do better credit to the road and the pretentious little mutt of a dirtbike that brought us all those dusty miles. One of the hairiest, and most exhilirating rides of my life. That I have no (new) wounds is a testament to the white-knuckled panache of good man Abel, who put in a good six hours of intense riding to haul my butt out of the valley.
So here I sit in an Internet Cafe, serenaded by trashy American rap as usual, thinking "How can a valley become a home so quickly?" It's sad to pack up and leave another familiar place, especially the Rukwa. It's a rough and ready and rollicking place, like that grizzled uncle you never thought you'd warm to until you finally lived with him for a while. Sure it's burning hot in the day, but a quick plunge into the swimming pool and an exhilirating starlit open-air shower, powered by all the pressure of a clear mountain waterfall, and it's totally worth it. The roads are bad, and for it all the more enjoyable on dirt bikes.
I think what really got me was the people. First, the Rabenolds, with intensity and joy for any guests that dare apply. Then Abel and Samara and Bryan and the other guests, joining in enthusiastically. Then the locals, as ready to laugh with you as at you, to offer their hospitality and then pull you aside and ask for your shoes. They really made Rukwa happen for me, challenging me to stop maintaining the distance of a student, passing through, looking for information and good experiences. To open up and try to connect even a little with people I will never see after this week. To learn people's names anyway. I gave the people of Rukwa a chance to be people...and they gave me a chance to feel at home.
So, Rukwa: I'll miss you and your friendly, forward people. We watched the Jesus movie, together this time, and it was new for both of us. My one prayer is that someone will come and tell that story for the first time to the Wasukuma, for whom it is still a story of the Wafipa and the Europeans. That someone will come to sit under a tree and wave a stick and tell it so it hits your heart and becomes your story, just like it is becoming mine.
In the meantime...the main events, for the people at home:
-helped clear and airstrip; watched an AIM Air puddle jumped come into our wilderness valley
-went babboon hunting. couldn't find any babboons. headed off to the lakes. killed ducks with shotguns.
-killed and ate a cow. and a goat. ate the ducks too. except for the one that flew away...after being shot and having his neck wrung by one very inexperienced young man and two very seasoned hunters. chased unsuccessfully by one angry young man.
-showed the Jesus film in Kiswahili, while conversing with lauging wasukuma and drunk village people.
-was told by said village people that I do not know how to play the drums. or dance. or speak kiswahili. but had fun at the outreach anyway.
14 April 2004
So...plan change. I'm not really sure what I'm going to be doing for the next few weeks. But it should be interesting. I'll probably end up mucking along in the Rukwa Valley. We'll see. In the meantime, I'll probably be out of touch for a while...
In the meantime, celebrate Easter: not just a day, but a season of remembering. Lent is a season to reflect on sorrow, suffering, death, and our fallen state. Easter is a season to meditate on resurrection, on being saved from the very things which haunted us through Lent. Easter is a season of joy.
See you in a few!
In the meantime, celebrate Easter: not just a day, but a season of remembering. Lent is a season to reflect on sorrow, suffering, death, and our fallen state. Easter is a season to meditate on resurrection, on being saved from the very things which haunted us through Lent. Easter is a season of joy.
See you in a few!
12 April 2004
10 April 2004
And....I'm back. The last two blogs were lost to technical difficulties :( hamna shidha, it's happened two times before that. Something like 5000 TZ Shillings and four hours of work lost. It works all right though, because I pretty much hated those entries anyway. Trying to say too much too well. So, here's what you all missed:
Homestays. Fun. Stressful. Tiring. Learned lots of Kiswahili...but I don't ever want to speak to another Kiswahili speaker again. Lots of really awesome food (Mom, you would be so proud...I loved anytime they put cabbage, peas, beans, or spinach in front of me...but, they made it really easy. Mama Lugano does, after all, pick these things straight out of a garden, and they are amazing...). But, lots of pork (the pork part is optional...you might just get a nice cube of fat and skin, maybe with a little artery running through....mmmmmmmmmhmmmmmm) and iffy chicken. It's not the taste that's a problem...it's just realizing what you're eating :)
Oh...and we played the most intense game of soccer ever. I think three entire villages showed up to watch as we played Team "Mzee" (that's old man in Kiswahili). The field was a mixture of gravel, dirt, scrubgrass, thorns and cow mavi, with a nice valley running through one corner. Many played barefoot. The intensity was so palpable that no one wanted to sub in...so we played two full forty-five minute halves, at an nice elevation of several thousand feet, against a local team. On the plus side, the women and children watching made us feel like action heroes. Every time Eli used his lanky frame and fancy footwork to put on a show, they roared. Rugby Bryan, with the hundred mile an hour powerhouse kick, earned his share of oohs and aaahs, and every header generated a heartfelt "Safi!". Houghton soccer star Mike would head it upfield to Eli, who'd head it to Brian, who'd head it back to Mike or Eli in front of the goal, and each consecutive hit would earn a louder "Safi!" (literally, "clean," but basically, "cool!"). Everyone loved soccer phenom Lisa, who not only was a girl and red headed, but also put on an amazing display of leaping, diving, catching, and kicking. And, of course, they rushed the field yelling and screaming for every goal...including the first of the game, sent home by an opportunistic rookie hailing from the great state Michigan :) And yes, I have a picture for proof...
Post Homestay, we suffered for God in Matema, a missionary resort on the shores of Lake Malawi. Sugar sand beach, water that was cool in the day and warm at night, volleyball, cheap soda from glass bottles, tubing, and an amazing trek up a mountain stream, clambering gollum-style over rocks and swimming through pools, backpacks over heads, to a one-hundred foot cataract with a massive, cold pool at the bottom. We swam and played like little children, then splashed our way downstream again. Eventually we had to leave, so we headed off to the bush, hiking through a lush nontropical rainforest to a crater lake. We crashed down a basically vertical slope, whooping and hollering all the way, to plunge into the freezing sulfur water. Then it was up and out, and down the outside. Kayaking buddy Tim, Tender Nurse Bryan and Gangly Ornithologist Eli led out, running full steam downhill on these muddy mountain paths. Crashing through banana leaves, slipping, sliding, leaping over small ledges and desperately trying not to fall off bigger ones, piling through lines of siafu ants, clinging to trees around corners and laughing uncontrollably, I think we set a new speed record for the descent, at the minor cost of a few cuts and scrapes and near-death experiences. Afterwards we huddled under a tarp from the rain, packed in tight around the charcoal fire listening to Bwana Jon, Bryan, Eli, and Dave Moyer recount harrowing tales of all their near-death and most-frightening experiences. What better way to prepare for a birthday.
The next day was, I think, the happiest birthday of my life. I was serenaded at every meal; while on the road, we played cards and laughed. I recieved the coveted director's kiss from Momma Barb, and through the rest of the day the jealous women of the trip tried to sneak pecks on the cheek. Poor me. At dinner, I presided over the cutting of the excellently tasty cake (one piece for you, one for me...) and after laughing long and hard, we played kick the can under a full moon. Good times...I slept well that night.
And now we are here...our last lectures are thought provoking as the first, examining what religion is, and where it comes from, and how Christ interacts with preexisting religions. Today we looked at witchcraft, magic, and the spirit world, and the different ways it exists even today. 10,000 people, mostly old women, were burned as witches in Tanzania in the last ten years...mostly because witchcraft is often the only explanation for misfortune, and the old and different and antisocial are feared. It's tempting to laugh at the idea that every bad event must have been caused by ill will, anger, jealousy, and supernatural forces...but it's just as logical as saying, "Hey, bad things happen, and we don't know why." Sure, we can explain that three old men died because they were standing under a granary who's support poles had been eaten out by termites...but why were they there, the three of them, at that exact time, when the granary gave way? We have no answer...it just happened. They were at the losing end of a formula involving termites and wood and gravity.
So...lots to think about, lots to enjoy, and a little sorrow, because this time is coming to an end, and many friends are leaving never to be seen again. So without further ado, I'm heading to the Hasty Tasty Too for some excellent rice and beef with friends.
Homestays. Fun. Stressful. Tiring. Learned lots of Kiswahili...but I don't ever want to speak to another Kiswahili speaker again. Lots of really awesome food (Mom, you would be so proud...I loved anytime they put cabbage, peas, beans, or spinach in front of me...but, they made it really easy. Mama Lugano does, after all, pick these things straight out of a garden, and they are amazing...). But, lots of pork (the pork part is optional...you might just get a nice cube of fat and skin, maybe with a little artery running through....mmmmmmmmmhmmmmmm) and iffy chicken. It's not the taste that's a problem...it's just realizing what you're eating :)
Oh...and we played the most intense game of soccer ever. I think three entire villages showed up to watch as we played Team "Mzee" (that's old man in Kiswahili). The field was a mixture of gravel, dirt, scrubgrass, thorns and cow mavi, with a nice valley running through one corner. Many played barefoot. The intensity was so palpable that no one wanted to sub in...so we played two full forty-five minute halves, at an nice elevation of several thousand feet, against a local team. On the plus side, the women and children watching made us feel like action heroes. Every time Eli used his lanky frame and fancy footwork to put on a show, they roared. Rugby Bryan, with the hundred mile an hour powerhouse kick, earned his share of oohs and aaahs, and every header generated a heartfelt "Safi!". Houghton soccer star Mike would head it upfield to Eli, who'd head it to Brian, who'd head it back to Mike or Eli in front of the goal, and each consecutive hit would earn a louder "Safi!" (literally, "clean," but basically, "cool!"). Everyone loved soccer phenom Lisa, who not only was a girl and red headed, but also put on an amazing display of leaping, diving, catching, and kicking. And, of course, they rushed the field yelling and screaming for every goal...including the first of the game, sent home by an opportunistic rookie hailing from the great state Michigan :) And yes, I have a picture for proof...
Post Homestay, we suffered for God in Matema, a missionary resort on the shores of Lake Malawi. Sugar sand beach, water that was cool in the day and warm at night, volleyball, cheap soda from glass bottles, tubing, and an amazing trek up a mountain stream, clambering gollum-style over rocks and swimming through pools, backpacks over heads, to a one-hundred foot cataract with a massive, cold pool at the bottom. We swam and played like little children, then splashed our way downstream again. Eventually we had to leave, so we headed off to the bush, hiking through a lush nontropical rainforest to a crater lake. We crashed down a basically vertical slope, whooping and hollering all the way, to plunge into the freezing sulfur water. Then it was up and out, and down the outside. Kayaking buddy Tim, Tender Nurse Bryan and Gangly Ornithologist Eli led out, running full steam downhill on these muddy mountain paths. Crashing through banana leaves, slipping, sliding, leaping over small ledges and desperately trying not to fall off bigger ones, piling through lines of siafu ants, clinging to trees around corners and laughing uncontrollably, I think we set a new speed record for the descent, at the minor cost of a few cuts and scrapes and near-death experiences. Afterwards we huddled under a tarp from the rain, packed in tight around the charcoal fire listening to Bwana Jon, Bryan, Eli, and Dave Moyer recount harrowing tales of all their near-death and most-frightening experiences. What better way to prepare for a birthday.
The next day was, I think, the happiest birthday of my life. I was serenaded at every meal; while on the road, we played cards and laughed. I recieved the coveted director's kiss from Momma Barb, and through the rest of the day the jealous women of the trip tried to sneak pecks on the cheek. Poor me. At dinner, I presided over the cutting of the excellently tasty cake (one piece for you, one for me...) and after laughing long and hard, we played kick the can under a full moon. Good times...I slept well that night.
And now we are here...our last lectures are thought provoking as the first, examining what religion is, and where it comes from, and how Christ interacts with preexisting religions. Today we looked at witchcraft, magic, and the spirit world, and the different ways it exists even today. 10,000 people, mostly old women, were burned as witches in Tanzania in the last ten years...mostly because witchcraft is often the only explanation for misfortune, and the old and different and antisocial are feared. It's tempting to laugh at the idea that every bad event must have been caused by ill will, anger, jealousy, and supernatural forces...but it's just as logical as saying, "Hey, bad things happen, and we don't know why." Sure, we can explain that three old men died because they were standing under a granary who's support poles had been eaten out by termites...but why were they there, the three of them, at that exact time, when the granary gave way? We have no answer...it just happened. They were at the losing end of a formula involving termites and wood and gravity.
So...lots to think about, lots to enjoy, and a little sorrow, because this time is coming to an end, and many friends are leaving never to be seen again. So without further ado, I'm heading to the Hasty Tasty Too for some excellent rice and beef with friends.
07 April 2004
Big Thanks must go out to:
Mum and Pops: for emails and love, for instigating a birthday card campaign, and for getting all those little things done that crop up when a man is overseas. Love ya!
Joy: for the coolest card your big brother has ever recieved. I love being your big brother!
Uncle Chuck, Hiram, Alo, and Becca Clark: for making Valentines Day really special. I pounded so many Jolly Ranchers (note to readers...the length of enjoyment/packing weight ratio for these is very, very high...what an excellent idea for care packages :) )
Howard and Jacoby: for being super cool. and keeping in touch.
Cheryl Winter: for my first honest-to-goodnes real solid letter. I will write you back...but for now, yes, I posit all the time, and Mike and Christine abuse me when I begin suggesting that maybe we ought to apply Community Organization and Development, and Ostrom's Framework for Crafting Institutions for Self-Governing Irrigation Systems, to the lack of hot water in the communal showers.
Deanna: for an utter shocker of a surprise real letter that arrived the day after homestay, a few days before my birthday, and enabled me to triumph with glee over Tegan and Katrina because I got a Deanna letter!. Thanks for reading...hope all is going well.
Schmutz: for a perfectly timed email about my favorite subject. Frodo Lives! See you sooner than you imagine, bub. Bring a sweater.
Donna: for an encouraging card and a very encouraging gift. Let's get together when I get home; I'm excited to see how you're doing. Everyone in my village knows you from the canoe trip pictures :)
All those who sent Birthday cards: awesome. I feel the love...now what do I do with all these balloons? :)
Jen Gerow: for chipper emails and encouragement...
Mosher: for color commentary on the amazing adventure you're on! every time I think about complaining about homestay meat (mostly cubes of skin and rubbery fat) I think about beetles and ant-eggs and smile...
All the rest of you...you know who you are. See ya soon!
Mum and Pops: for emails and love, for instigating a birthday card campaign, and for getting all those little things done that crop up when a man is overseas. Love ya!
Joy: for the coolest card your big brother has ever recieved. I love being your big brother!
Uncle Chuck, Hiram, Alo, and Becca Clark: for making Valentines Day really special. I pounded so many Jolly Ranchers (note to readers...the length of enjoyment/packing weight ratio for these is very, very high...what an excellent idea for care packages :) )
Howard and Jacoby: for being super cool. and keeping in touch.
Cheryl Winter: for my first honest-to-goodnes real solid letter. I will write you back...but for now, yes, I posit all the time, and Mike and Christine abuse me when I begin suggesting that maybe we ought to apply Community Organization and Development, and Ostrom's Framework for Crafting Institutions for Self-Governing Irrigation Systems, to the lack of hot water in the communal showers.
Deanna: for an utter shocker of a surprise real letter that arrived the day after homestay, a few days before my birthday, and enabled me to triumph with glee over Tegan and Katrina because I got a Deanna letter!. Thanks for reading...hope all is going well.
Schmutz: for a perfectly timed email about my favorite subject. Frodo Lives! See you sooner than you imagine, bub. Bring a sweater.
Donna: for an encouraging card and a very encouraging gift. Let's get together when I get home; I'm excited to see how you're doing. Everyone in my village knows you from the canoe trip pictures :)
All those who sent Birthday cards: awesome. I feel the love...now what do I do with all these balloons? :)
Jen Gerow: for chipper emails and encouragement...
Mosher: for color commentary on the amazing adventure you're on! every time I think about complaining about homestay meat (mostly cubes of skin and rubbery fat) I think about beetles and ant-eggs and smile...
All the rest of you...you know who you are. See ya soon!
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