My last post (probably) before returning home

Today at morning prayer the Bishop expressed his appreciation for my coming here and sharing in the ministry of the Tabora diocese for 2 months. He invited me to say my goodbyes to the clergy and staff who won't make it to the farewell tea being planned for me tomorrow (Tuesday).


Some of the lizards who share the Diocesan compound with me.


Yesterday's entry in Forward Day By Day referred to James 5:16, "...the prayer of the righteous person has power..." The author quoted his mentor from seminary to the effect that when you agree to pray for someone you're taking on a large responsibility. I came here with a long prayer list of family members, friends, and parishioners; and while here I've added a lot of names to the people I pray for daily. As recently as yesterday I assured the Burundian settlers in Ulyankulu that I will pray for them in this time of transition.

I have been sustained by the prayers of believing relatives and friends back home and parishioners in Hulls Cove. I have been blessed by the notes, written back in July, that I have included as reading in my morning prayers.

Thank you all for making this experience possible.

ULYANKULU DEANERY

Sunday School, Mbeta village

Last weekend (September 25-27) I went with Bishop Makaya and some of his clergy to Ulyankulu Deanery. There are 4 Anglican parishes-- 17 congregations in all-- whose members are Burundian refugees, 2,000 of whom were settled there after the 1972 tribal war in Burundi between Tutsis and Hutus. After 37 years, the United Nations and the governments of Burundi and Tanzania have decided to resolve their status. About 5% have decided to return to Burundi; 90% have applied for Tanzanian citizenship; and another 5% could get sent back to Burundi involuntarily because they didn't apply for Tanzanian citizenship before the deadline.

They've been told they're being relocated, but they don't know where or when. All development and new building in the area, such as school expansion, has been halted. Most of the "settlers" were born in Ulyankulu and don't know any other home. The Tanzanian government's "one Tanzania" policy will probably be to relocate them as far from Ulyankulu (and Tabora) and from each other. This is how it minimizes the cultural distinctives among the 120-plus ethnic groups already in Tanzania.


Mothers' Union kwaya, Mbeta

I preached Friday afternoon in Nsigara and Sunday morning in Mbeta. In addition to the usual teaching on the Holy Spirit, to coincide with the Confirmation service, I preached to encourage them during this in-between time, when their patience and faith are being tested; and to call on the Holy Spirit's help to forgive the tribe (Tutsis) they've been taught to consider their enemies.


New friends in Mbeta

Communion at Kalimela parish.

My memory stick is full— not just the one in my camera; the one in my brain, too… I’m very eager to go home and be with my wife, but also anxious about how little time I have left in Tabora. I’m frustrated with my slow progress in learning Swahili... (Feast of the Holy Cross, September 14)

After last weekend’s trip to the Urombo Deanery (September 11-13), I’m having trouble remembering the differences between one parish or congregation and another. We visited 5 parishes (6 congregations), taking part in 5 Confirmation services and the dedication of one new church building.


With the Confirmands at Kalimela. They didn't have enough of the leis for everyone to wear them, so they passed them around for individual pictures.

Acts 19:1-17 and John 14:12-17 have been the Propers at every Confirmation service so far. The Bishop instructs the assigned preacher to preach about the Holy Spirit. I preached Saturday morning in Mungono and Sunday morning in Urombo. During my Saturday sermon, every time I finished telling of a healing I had personally experienced through the power of the Holy Spirit, or observed in someone else, the congregation broke into loud applause and cheering.


Mungono Confirmation-- the Gospel reading. (My camera was propped on top of some books.)

The Bishop kindly used the word “inspiring” to describe my sermon Saturday morning, but it was tame by African standards. That afternoon in Nsenga parish we dedicated the building for St. John’s in one of the villages and proceeded to Nsenga town, to dedicate the new rectory and hold Confirmation.

At the Nsenga Confirmation, one of the Rural Deans in the Bishop’s entourage preached for more than an hour. At the beginning he started a fire on the chancel steps to provide one of his illustrations. Later, with shouting and dancing, he called down the Holy Spirit on the congregation. People were in tears, repenting, begging God for the gifts of the Spirit; one of the confirmands fell to the ground and was carried out of the building to be delivered of demonic oppression. She returned to the church in time to receive Confirmation with the rest of the candidates.

As an Australian missionary here said to me, during another service in another place: “When you go to church in Africa, you never know what will happen next.”

One confirmand in Urombo on Sunday was a man who, until about a year ago, was a Muslim. We had supper at his house on Saturday evening and were privileged to hear his testimony of answered prayer, and of a family unified under the Lord Jesus. His home has become a gathering place for Christians in that town.

We continue to receive offerings in kind (as well as cash). Saturday afternoon in Nsenga we received a large bunch (more like a tree branch) of bananas. Probably 85 in the bunch. I think we acquired some sacks of rice along the way, too. The offering Sunday morning in Urambo included a live chicken for the Bishop. The offering basket was brought forward with the chicken nesting on a pile of paper money.

When the basket was set down, the chicken squawked, flapped her wings, and upset the basket. Later in the service, one of the lay elders auctioned the chicken. The going price at the market would be a little over $5. A man in the congregation—I think he was one of the guests, a local government dignitary— bought the chicken for about $32. The Bishop doesn’t need another chicken, and the diocese needs the cash more.

Our last stop of the day was in Nkulusi village. The offering there included a chicken also, but we had to transport that one back to Tabora with us. These chickens don’t do well on long rides over the bumpy roads. Fortunately none of us had to perform CPR on the chicken that afternoon.


Bananas at the offering

In each church that Sunday-- at Urombo in the morning and Nkulusi that afternoon-- the kwaya sang songs calling on the congregation to have compassion for the albinos (pronounced “awl- bean-oze”). I have only seen one African albino in the time that I’ve been here, but I’ve seen news programs about them on TV. Some people fear them or have superstitious ideas about them. Some albinos have had acid thrown on them to disfigure them. A more serious threat is that people abduct them to sell their body parts to witch doctors for magical purposes. Fathers have abandoned their families because they couldn’t live with the pressure of having an albino child. Families with albino children have come to the local government here in Tabora seeking protection.

At every church we stopped at, the Bishop had a word of challenge or encouragement, and a promise of some kind of help. In Mungono the Bishop promised a large contribution to help them complete their roof. In just about every place he invited people to attend the Bible College to be trained as catechists and evangelists. If the kwaya had no instruments, he urged them to get a keyboard. In Nkulusi we dedicated a keyboard the church had just acquired, but until they get a generator, an amp, and speakers, they won’t be able to do much with it.

The day began on a solemn note. When I went to attend 7:30 morning prayer, I found a knot of people gathered around the night watchman. He was describing how a motorbike (piki-piki) was stolen from the compound during the night. (Tuesday, September 15)

The piki-piki was a gift from a Baptist congregation in the US, for use by the Evangelism Department. According to the night watchman, at about 3 a.m. he heard a noise behind the guest house. While he was investigating that, some person or persons cut the chain link fence and removed the piki-piki. The police don’t offer much hope for recovering the piki-piki. Their first response was to hold the night watchman for questioning. Standard police procedure here. As far as I know, no one at the Diocese accuses him of any involvement. I was glad to see him back on the job a few nights later. But the staff here are feeling wounded and discouraged because of the theft. There are no funds to go out and buy another piki-piki.

Stand firm, therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and as shoes for your feet having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. (Ephesians 6:15)

On Friday, September 18, I taught my last class at the Bible College, and said goodbye to the students. I had spent the week teaching about praying the Psalms. It has surprised me that not one of the services I have attended has included any of the biblical Psalms, prayed or read. I have been impressed with the students at the Bible College, their care in reading the Bible, and their readiness to share the Gospel of peace wherever the Bishop should send them. They gave me a verse to take home to the congregation in Hulls Cove:

“Therefore stay awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” (Matthew 24:42)

On Saturday, September 19, I paid another visit to St. John’s, Isevya, to see the Compassion project in action. I visited with the staff, talked with the children, and prayed with them. This Compassion project serves 250 children. One hundred sixty now have sponsors. At the Saturday morning program they receive a nutritious meal, social services, mentoring, and Christian instruction.

Sunday, September 20, I returned to Isevya to preach at St. John’s. The Gospel reading, according the lectionary in use here, was Jesus’ words from Matthew 6:24-34. “…Therefore, I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing.” I considered choosing some other passage to preach on, but decided that abiding by the lectionary was part of my commitment to obey local Church authority.

I told the congregation that I had a credibility problem. I could understand if they resented some affluent mzungu coming over from the US and telling them not to be anxious about food, clothing, and shelter. “Let him live my life,” I could imagine them saying, “let him struggle as I do to feed and shelter my family, and then talk to me about not being anxious.” I told them that I believed Jesus’ words have authority, and are addressed to rich and poor alike. I told them that freedom and security aren’t found in money alone. Our experience in the US is that no amount is ever enough.

It’s not that God wants the people of Isevya or anyone else to be poor. He wants us to trust that he is a good God who knows our needs; and he wants us to be free to obey him, in whatever circumstances we find ourselves. I told them how Bishop Makaya had repeatedly said to me, “God has a purpose for you to come to Tabora.” Maybe that purpose is partly to unsettle my conscience about the fact that within the same Body of Christ there are rich Americans and hungry Africans (not to mention rich and poor Americans).

Maybe I’ve been here long enough to make some general observations about the Church here in Tabora Diocese.

Church Growth. In more than half of the villages, there’s the church building they’ve outgrown, and the new church they’re building. (In some cases, the new church they’ve already built.) It is assumed that healthy congregations grow. Growth is not taken for granted. The maturity of those already in the Church is essential to church growth. Maturity itself can’t be taken for granted, either. Just as in the US, there are lots of pressures to divide one’s loyalties. In this culture some of those pressures come from Islam and the witch doctors.

Evangelists. A parish might consist of 8 congregations, served by one priest. In each congregation, there are one or more evangelists. The term “catechist” and “evangelist” are used interchangeably. As far as I know, every priest I’ve met in this Diocese served previously for a number of years as an evangelist, and most of them have been church planters before ordination.

The Bible College graduates 30-40 evangelists for the Diocese every year. The students I’m teaching at the Bible College are preparing for service as evangelists (and catechists). After completing the training, they are commissioned; provided bicycles (if there are funds for bicycles); and sent. They take their families and go where they’re told. In the congregations, in the absence of a priest, they function as pastors, except that they don’t administer the Sacraments. They lead worship; visit homes; hold classes for new Christians; and teach members of the congregation how to share the Gospel.

In their training they are taught self-reliance, namely, how to support themselves financially (or at least subsist; most of them never see much cash). They receive some small compensation from church offerings. But if they don’t know how to grow their own food, they don’t eat.

The Diocese refers to evangelism, especially visiting from house to house, as mawindo (hunting; the hunt). Not too far from what Jesus said: “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” (Matthew 4:19) Fishing is a violent image (from the fish’s perspective), and so is hunting. Bonhoeffer’s opening words in The Cost of Discipleship (if I remember correctly) are: “When Christ calls a man, he calls him to die.”

The evangelists here say that the “weapon” of their hunting is personal testimony.

The Canons of the Episcopal Church (USA) allow for the Bishop to license Catechists (along with Lay Eucharistic Ministers, Lay Readers, and Lay Preachers). I wonder whether there are currently any licensed Catechists in any US diocese.

Kwaya. Every congregation has a kwaya, sometimes more than one. Some of them are equipped with keyboard, microphones, amplifiers, maybe some other instruments. In some of the smaller village churches they sing a cappella, with clapped hands for percussion. The accompaniment in Nkulusi was a couple wooden blocks struck together. With or without instruments, I thought they all sounded great. Each congregation has a few strong soloists, and one or more composers. As far as I know, they have had little or no formal training. Their material comes from the Holy Spirit and meditation on Scripture.

The Bishop pushes each congregation to have a strong kwaya because he sees it as a draw for the youth. Evidently, the more electronic noise, the better the attraction.

The Pastors. The pastors and their wives are highly respected, as far as I can tell. I’ve been to two ordination services (a total of 5 priests ordained). It seems that they are as much the ordination of the pastors’ wives as of the pastors themselves. I saw more than one ordinand’s wife in tears, contemplating (as I suppose) the responsibilities they were taking on.

The financial pressures are hard on clergy families. The pastors are poorly paid, even by Third World standards. The rural pastors more poorly than any. Their monthly cash salary might be about $16 (an increase from a few years ago). They grow some of their own food, and parishioners give them food; but to send their children to school they need cash. The Bishop does his best to help with school fees for the children, and to subsidize improvements in the rectories. The pastors’ respect declines in the eyes of their congregation if they see the pastor “too involved” in growing his food or supplementing his income with some other marketable skill.

None of the rectories I visited in the Urombo Deanery (and only one in the Kahama Deanery) had electricity. Not even the residence of the Uramabo Rural Dean himself, even though electricity is now available in Urombo. In the Mungono rectory, I was shown the “fridge”: a large clay jar partly filled with water to keep food cool. It was just as big as it needed to be. No one has a lot of perishable food that needs storing in a cool place.


The rectory in Mungono

About halfway through my July retreat, while engaged in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, my spiritual director instructed me to examine the “deceits of Satan,” including riches. In what way do I prefer riches to the call of Jesus Christ? What can I add to my life that is more precious than being created and redeemed in Christ? The outcome of this exercise was to pray to receive the grace of spiritual poverty; the grace to live in the awareness that everything I have is a gift from God; the grace to let my life and service proceed in God’s will, indifferent to wealth and poverty; and the grace to follow Jesus in actual poverty IF God chooses that for me.

Easier said than done.

Back in Tanzania again

Internet time is expensive here, and we've had some long power outages.

On the afternoon of Wednesday, September 2, Fr. Samaga and I arrived in Kigali. On Friday the 4th we visited the child in Murambi whom the Church of Our Father has been sponsoring through Compassion International for something like 6 years. Saturday morning we left Kigali on a 6 am bus and returned to Tabora late morning Sunday the 6th (after spending the night in Nzega).

Rwanda was a total surprise for me and, I think, for Father Anthony, who came as my guide. I expected it to be dangerous, but it was amazingly clean and efficient, and saturated with a Christian presence. Kigali is a sprawling city of 1.5 million people, crowded and polluted, not what I’d ordinarily prefer, but it seems to “work” for the people who live there.


One form of public transportation in Kigali: the motorcycle taxi.

The country has undergone a redemption—a costly one.

The world’s somewhat belated response to the 1994 genocide has been a huge amount of development aid pouring in from government and Church donors. I saw projects being carried out by UN agencies, USAID, World Vision, and many others that I can’t now remember. I was truly impressed with the quality of Compassion’s work. They have 180 projects in the country, more than half of them located in Anglican parishes.

Tomorrow (Friday the 11th) I travel with the Bishop to the Urombo Deanery for a weekend of Confirmations and parish visits.


With Compassion staff and the sponsored 16-year-old girl.


In both directions, our buses carried "armed escorts" for a 30-mile stretch on the Tanzanian side of the border to protect us from hijackers.

Pilgrimage to Rwanda

Delivering donated reference books to the Tabora Anglican Bible College on August 18

After another week of classes at the Bible college, I preached (with the help of a translator) at the 2 Swahili services at the Cathedral on Sunday. The second (10:30 am) Swahili service was also a Baptism.


The new (post-2001) national flag of Rwanda

Tomorrow (Tuesday, September 1) I leave for Murambi, Rwanda, to meet the 16-year-old girl whom the Church of Our Father has sponsored for 6 years through Compassion International. I will arrive in Kigali by bus around noon on Wednesday and make contact with representatives of Compassion when I get there.

Fr. Anthony Samaga, my Tanzanian email-pal for about the same length of time and now my frequent companion here in Tabora, will travel with me both ways. We'll return to Tabora on Sunday... probably.

This is where I live

Looking left from the gate, toward the Development Office, some other staff offices, and the Mothers' Union hall (where we have morning prayer every weekday at 7:30).


Looking right, toward the Bishop's, Diocesan Secretary's, and Accountant's offices.


The Guest House

If you supposed I've been roughing it while here in Tabora... well, I'm not. The guest house was the residence of the first Bishop of Tabora. It is much nicer than the homes almost everyone I know here lives in. I've had it to myself for most of the time I've been here.

On the other hand, going out to the rural deaneries is a little more like camping. If carrying a backpack stuffed with sweaty vestments is your idea of camping.


The "long drop" (pit latrine) behind the guest house; chickens, roosters, and guinea fowl in the foreground. The chickens go wherever they want here. They've been known to lay eggs in the offices of diocesan staff.

A Wedding at St. Stephen's Cathedral, Tabora, August 29

Fr. Amos Chidemi preaching Ephesians 5: "Wives, submit to your husbands..." This text might be a hard sell in a lot of Episcopal congregations back home, but it got cheers from the congregation at this wedding-- more from the women than from the men. If you want to start a fight in this country, stand up in front of the Mothers' Union and tell them that wives shouldn't have to submit to their husbands.




"...Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the Church, and gave his life for her..." This, too, elicited cheers, from everybody, but especially the women.



The vows.



What's a wedding without a marching "trumpet band"?

Health Education for the children living with HIV/AIDS, Kitete Hospital, Tabora-- August 29

The health education topics for the children with AIDS vary from meeting to meeting. On this day, it was about prevention of malaria. It ended with handing out mosquito nets.

Play Group for Children living with HIV/AIDS, Kitete Hospital, Tabora

Musical games with the children

One or two Saturdays a month, they hold what I suppose we would call a Support Group for children with AIDS and their parents. I haven't figured out how often they have it. But August 29 was likely to be the last Saturday I'd be spending in Tabora (the others being weekends when I'll accompany the Bishop to the rural deaneries), so when I heard the 29th was one of the days for the AIDS group, I fished for an invitation. I went with Dr. Jim Payton and other volunteers who happen also to be on the staff of St. Philip's Clinic: Mama Francis ("Mother Teresa") and Mama Muhoge.

The hospital is aware of 5,000 people in Tabora with AIDS-- that's just the number they know about. One hundred fifty children and their parents came to this Saturday's meeting. Naturally, I was asked to get up and greet everyone as if I were some visiting dignitary. Then we had musical games and passed out refreshments-- Joly Jus (similar to Kool Aid, with a lot of artificial sweetener) and maandazi, these wonderful Tanzanian doughnut-like pastries.

We had a pretty good time. I don't know what it's like for these children outside this support group, but they just wanted to play and laugh and be held.

After we settled down from the games and snack, there was health education. (See next post.)

St. Philip's Clinic (Part II)

On Friday, August 28,I spent the morning at St. Philip's Clinic. The day began at 8 a.m. with devotions for the staff followed by what appeared to be a very passionate organizational meeting of some kind. Then the patients were let in.

After a tour of the clinic, I sat in Dr. Jim Payton's consulting room while he saw patients. Dr. Jim is a retired English doctor who now spends more than half of every year here in Tabora volunteering his time at the clinic. He and his wife, Margaret, have been very hospitable to me.

Privacy doesn't seem to be as much of a concern here as it would be in a U.S. doctor's office. They haven't heard of HIPAA. Dr. Jim saw about 15 patients in the first hour and a half, and then saw most of them again when their test results came back. Almost everyone was tested for malaria, and most of them have it. A lot of people were tested for syphilis (which is very widespread here); but this Friday, as far as I know, none came back positive for syphilis. Many were tested for AIDS. There were a few cases of hookworm and kwashiorkor.

The clinic isn't able right now to admit anyone as an inpatient. They can refer patients to the government hospital in Tabora. Mama Francis (pictured below, translating for Dr. Jim) visits the patients in their homes in the evening and makes sure they're taking their medicines, getting fed, etc. It's not part of her job description; she just loves the patients. They call her "Mother Teresa" and "St. Teresa." She really is a saint.

Kwashiorkor is on the rise. Last week one little boy arrived at the clinic near death, and Dr. Jim has taken him into his home at least until he is strong enough to be placed with relatives. (The parents have evidently abandoned the child.) Part of the reason for the high incidence of kwashiorkor is that the harvest was poor, and there have been food shortages. But a lot of children get kwashiorkor when their mothers stop nursing. Breast milk is about the best thing for them, and the mothers don't seem to know which foods to give their children for the protein.

Dr. Jim had me take blood pressures, prod abdomina, and look into throats and ears, mainly (I think) to familiarize me with the symptoms of malaria and other diseases. As far as the patients were concerned, they were getting twice their money's worth: an international team of mzungu doctors. I also got to look at the blood specimens showing the damage malaria does to red blood cells.





Dr. Jim and Mama Francis with a pediatric patient and his mother.



Dr. Jim and Dr. Deyo (spelling?) take a break for soda.

The Diocesan Clinic, St. Philip's, Tabora (Part I)

The entrance to the clinic compound





Patient intake, waiting area, and pharmacy

Ordination of David Binrusha to the Priesthood, August 16 at St. Paul's, Kahama

David is presented to the Bishop and examined.




The new Ordinand and his wife (on the right) with the Bishop and clergy




Tanzanian Christians have beans (maharage) at their church suppers! I was right at home.

St. Andrew's, Mosumbwe-- Sister Congregation to Church of Our Father

St. Andrew's Rector, Fr. Stanley Karibwanmi and a parishioner












Interior views of St. Andrew's

Confirmation at St. Andrew's, Mosumbwe, August 15

It was a small congregation, compared to the other churches I visited. If you look closely, you might notice that men are sitting on one side, women on the other. This seems to be the practice in some, but not all churches, including the "late" (10:30 am) Sunday service at the Cathedral. But at the Cathedral, at least, it's not big deal if some man sits among the women, or some woman sits among the men.



"Receive the Holy Spirit!"

Scenes from St. Andrew's Church, Mosumbwe, August 15

St. Andrew's, exterior view



Breakfast in the rectory



Our sacristy was the rear of the Bishop's Toyota Land Cruiser

Third Week in Tabora Diocese

Teach me to do what pleases you, for you are my God;
let your good Spirit lead me on level ground.
Psalm 143:10

Bwana asifiwe! Aleluya!

In the past 10 days I have become an uncle; gained a sister parish for the Church of Our Father; and begun a regular schedule of teaching liturgics at the Tabora Anglican Training Center (a.k.a. the Bible School).

On the evening of Wednesday, August 12, there was a "send-off" for an Englishwoman who was finishing up her second long stint as a volunteer in the Diocesan Clinic, and returning to England to be married. This "send-off" was a 2-hour version of a celebration that would normally last for a week, when a bride is "sent off" to join the groom's family.

So we were her African family sending her off to be married. The Bishop and his wife (Baba na Mama Askofu) were the parents; I was the uncle; and the rest were extended family. There were prayers, speeches, songs, dancing, gift-giving, and lots of food.

The next morning (Thursday) I accompanied the Bishop and some of his staff on a visit to the Kahama deanery. Pictures and explanation may be found in some of the recent entries (see below).

The Bishop's itinerary included 6 churches in the Kahama deanery. The deanery is pretty far from Tabora, and covers a large area relatively close to the border with Burundi and also with Lake Victoria. The Bishop excused me from the Saturday afternoon visit to Kakola so I could stay in Kahama itself and prepare to preach Sunday morning in St. Paul's, Kahama. I felt like a wimp not savoring the entire experience, but it turned out to be a merciful gesture. The Saturday afternoon service in Kahama was another long one. Even though I hadn't done much other than ride in the vehicle; eat; give a couple "mini-sermons" along with greetings from America and the Bradshaws; and sleep, I was pretty tired from the heat and from trying to follow conversations in a language I didn't understand.

On Saturday morning in Mosumbwe, after my usual greeting to the congregation and words of encouragement to the confirmands, the Bishop asked if anyone there had a question for me. After the service a lady approached the Bishop and asked whether it was still possible to ask a question. Her question was: Is it possible for that congregation, St. Andrew's, Mosumbwe, to have a companion relationship with the Church of Our Father. Think fast, Bradshaw... Hmmmmm... Yes!! So now we have a sister congregation in Mosumbwe, and I have a new brother rector in Fr. Stanley Karibwanmi.

Sunday morning (8/23) I preached in St. Paul's, Kahama, at a service of confirmation for about 50 people and the ordination of David Binrusha (of Kabuhima) to the priesthood, with about 600 people present (spilling out the door and listening at the windows).

On Tuesday I delivered some reference books to the Bible College library and introduced myself to the students. Beginning Wednesday I have had a daily morning appointment to meet with a class of about 20 future evangelists and church-planters. We decided that I would teach liturgics. I have brought my Daily Office book (containing Morning, Noonday, and Evening Prayer and Compline) but when calculating the weight limits on my luggage I decided to leave my 1979 Book of Common Prayer at home. So my text for the first couple of days was the Bible, and beginning today (Friday) I've been using the 1995 Tanzanian Prayer Book.

In these posts, I want to be careful not to present myself as an expert on East African culture. The longer I stay here, the less I know.

One challenge is to figure out who-all is in my African friends' families. Sometimes they will tell you the total of spouse plus natural children. Sometimes the total includes not just natural children, but "orphans," too. At least half of my friends here have orphans, the children of deceased brothers and sisters, plus other dependents, include adults. People die young here and other family members take over the responsibilty of raising the surviving children.

Another challenge is knowing how to address the women. Fr. Anthony Samaga's wife (Winifreda) is not called Mrs. Samaga or Winifreda, she is Mama Vicky. Married women with children have as many names as they have children, but usually they are called by the name of their eldest. But I learned on the first day that the Bishop's wife is known as Mama Askofu (Mama Bishop.)

While travelling around the Kahama diocese, before entering the pastor's home I'd ask one of other clergy what I should call the pastor's wife. Sometimes they would tell me "Mama So-and-so," and I could tell that she was known by the name of one of her children. But in several places I was told to address the lady of the house as "Mama Mchungaji." And while sitting in the room, I heard some of the priests themselves being addressed as Mchungaji. I began to be curious about this prolific family, the Mchungajis, in which everyone was either a priest or the wife of a priest.

Then one day, while studying the Scriptures in the guest house, I realized that Mama Isaya was addressing me as "Mchungaji." It occurred to me that this might not be a proper name, but a word whose meaning I could look up. Mchungaji is Swahili for "shepherd." Technically, a Christian pastor is mchungaji wa roho, shepherd of the Spirit, but most people just say mchungaji.

Travel tips for Western Tanzania: If soap, towels, and toilet paper are important to you, bring your own. Get used to greasy fingers at mealtime. Only wimps use utensils.

Confirmation and installation of new Rural Dean, Ushirombo, August 14

The Ushirombo church meets under this blue tarp on the site of the new church they're building, having outgrown their original building. The rector, Fr. Amos Ndilema, was installed as the Rural Dean of Ushirombo. His badge of office as Rural Dean is an academic bachelor's hood. They rigged up a "throne," for him, a lawn chair covered by a bedsheet with the words "Welcome Home" embroidered on it.

About 30 people were confirmed also.

After the service and multiple speeches, one of the elders-- possibly the chairman of the building fund-- decided to take advantage of the crowd that had gathered for the Bishop. He seized the microphone, and for H O U R S harangued the crowd to donate to the completion of the building. He called them up by groups-- children first, then elders (i.e., vestry), then the Mothers' Union, then others by name, the patient Roman Catholic priest who attended, and the American visitor. Their goal for the roof is 50,000,000 shillings, about $43,400. They raised about $4,000 that night.

I didn't mind being asked, but felt blindsided, and I began to wonder: If I visit five or six churches on each of these confirmation visits, and each church not only has a regular offering, and a building fund plus another appeal for this or that, I had better go and refigure my budget for this mission internship. I'm accustomed to treating my giving behavior as a private matter, and I was more than a little offended by the arm-twisting approach this elder adopted.

But African Christians don't seem to have a problem with this. They lined up at the microphone, and each in turn greeted the congregation: "Bwana asifiwe!" (Praise the Lord!), then gave a little speech or testimony, ending with, "...and I'm giving [so many] shillings to the fund for the new roof."

If you want to get things done in Africa, this seems to be the way. The alternative is to have a committee ten years from now still discussing how they're going to get a new roof.

Confirmation service in Kabuhima, August 14

The batteries in my camera died before I could photograph very much of this visit. Shown here are

(1) the goat presented to the Bishop as part of the offering;

(2) the Kabuhima church seen from the outside; and

(3) the kwaya of the Kabuhima church-- the floor is dirt, covered by tarps near the altar. They are raising funds for a concrete floor.