Tanzania Journal

Debbie Koop, one of my fellow travelers in Tanzania, wrote the following journal, that she is happy to share.  Enjoy!

Tanzania journal: A memorable first day to Bwambo

Travelers: Fr. Bill Dezeil, Fr. Michael Skluzacek, Bob and Barb Schultz, and Steve and Debbie Koop.

To say that our first day in Tanzania was eventful is a massive understatement. I know words cannot begin to convey the feelings we experienced from happiness to peacefulness to excitement to empathy and sympathy to thanksgiving and praise. You had to be there. When I tell you the story, you will think I'm exaggerating, but I am not.

Our day began in the beautiful KIA Lodge just one mile from the airport. There are only a few airplanes a day that arrive and leave so because there is nothing else around for miles, we felt like we were in the African bush. After our exhausting 24 hour trek via two eight hour flights plus layovers and lines for Visas and claiming baggage (it all arrived safely), we arrived last night and were taken to our individual bungalows. They were clean comfortable and spacious. We awoke to sounds of birds and animals that we had never heard before. The bungalows were set among stone pathways amid a beautiful garden filled with exotic cacti, bougainvilleas, and strange looking trees.  We walked to the breakfast pavilion for a cup of coffee and a chance to hook up to wifi to let everyone know that we had arrived safely.

Then, we strolled to Fr. Bill's room for morning mass at 8:00 AM (Midnight MN time). It was a mass of thanksgiving for arriving safely and to pray for all those whom we would meet this day. I had no idea how those prayers would be answered. Breakfast was delicious and the staff here could not be more helpful or welcoming. Their coffee is strong, dark and bold enough for Barb to love it. It was good.

We packed up and soon Fr. Beda from the Same Diocese (pronounced Sa - may) arrived to take us to his parish and hospital in Bwambo. We were scheduled to stay there tonight before embarking on the vacation portion of our trip. Fr. Beda is a priest and a doctor, a combination that is becoming more and more common here. He is both a pastor of a small parish and a doctor at a busy remote mountain hospital.

The first puzzle to figure out was how we were all going to fit into the Toyota Land Cruiser that he brought to pick us up. It looked like it had room for 3 more people and their luggage, but we were five people with five large suitcases, 5 carry-ons and 5 personal bags. First, the driver loaded the suitcases on one side of the back end and shoved smaller bags on top. Steve and Fr. Bill sat on a bench on the other side in the back end with very little leg room. Three of us sat in the middle seat holding backpacks and smaller bags on our lap and at our feet. The only way to enter the middle seat was to climb in from the passenger door. Fr. Beda and the driver sat in the front. It seemed really tight, but little did we know how much more the car could handle.

The first order of business was to get Tanzanian cash or schillings as they are called at a bank. We drove to a nearby town called Moshi and stopped near a hotel to park. After completing our business, we got a soda in the hotel and returned to the car. The back end would not unlock no matter how hard they tried so Fr. Bill and Steve had to climb over the back seat head first and climb onto their bench. Fr. Beda decided we needed to find a car repair shop immediately so we drove down an alley to a large brick fortress crammed wall to wall with at least 40 vehicles. Luckily, we found someone to work on it right away. Fr. Bill had to crawl out first so a mechanic could crawl in while Steve stayed in back bent over at the hip and tried to give him room to work. The mechanic removed the cover of the inside of the door to gain access to the lock. He finally got it open after about 10 minutes and Steve was able to get out. It took another 45 minutes for them to oil the lock and replace some parts. Soon, we were gratefully on our way. We thanked God for our good fortune to find a capable mechanic to fix our car so fast.

We arrived an hour late to have lunch with friends of Fr. Beda, the Vicar general, Fr. Everest, and Fr. Deo, who is in charge of development for the Same Diocese. They hugged and welcomed us  warmly to their rectory. We had a meal of banana soup, potatoes, french fries, rice, fried chicken and  beef. It was so generous of them to serve us this full meal. Fr. Bill wanted to see the map of the Tanzanian Diocese on the wall so he walked over to it and took it down. Barb and I screamed when we saw a small lizard scamper along the wall to the window. We all laughed as we wondered who was living behind the bishop's picture. After lunch, we walked to the parish Church of the Holy Cross where Fr. Everest is the pastor. It was a simple structure with wooden benches and the usual furniture in the sanctuary. I imagined that many Masses with lively African music, singing and dancing have taken place here. We thanked them for the hospitality and gave them gifts as we left. We brought three suitcases full of gifts for our hosts and new friends at various stops during our trip to thank them and to assist their work with the poor in hospitals, schools and parishes.

We drove to nearby Same to see the diocesan headquarters. We thought we were getting a tour, but we were there to pick up another passenger, Fr. Josephat, and his baggage. He is a young priest and just finished his third year of medical school. He is going to stay at Bwambo to get medical experience. He joined Fr. Beda in the front seat which is really only a little larger than a single seat. Good thing he was of a small stature.  In Tanzania there must be a saying, "There's always room for one more." Now we were one driver plus seven passengers with lots of luggage shoved everywhere.

It was time for us to journey to Fr. Beda's parish and hospital located high in the Pare Mountains and only reached by four wheel drive vehicle or motorcycle. Fr. Beda tried to prepare us for the rough road ahead. He said perhaps Fr. Bill and Steve would want to move forward and he would sit in the back due to the side to side jostling we would be experiencing. They assured him they would be fine. We could not have imagined how rough this road was going to be.

We left the main road from Arusha to Dar es Salaam and turned onto a gravel road. It was flat to begin with but soon we were doing switch backs up through the mountains. After about ten minutes the road got narrower and steeper. The driver stopped the car. We wondered what was wrong, but he was just manually turning on four-wheel drive. Now the road became seriously rocky with many boulders the size of cantaloupes and watermelons. It had deep ruts and potholes everywhere. The steepness of the drop off on the cliff side was getting dangerously high. We were averaging only five kilometers per hour and literally rocking twelve inches or more side to side and forward and backwards. Meanwhile, small motorcycles were passing us, bounding along with up to three adults on a small mountain bike. Someone said, "I sure hope we don't meet another car going down." Sure enough within minutes a similar sized vehicle with 8-10 people had broken down and was sitting on the rock-faced side of the road. We stopped because there didn't appear to be room to pass. Fr. Beda got out and asked if they could move over a bit, but there was no way it could be moved. The axle was broken. They motioned for our driver to go through and we were incredulous when he put the car in gear. There was no way that we could fit we thought and yet the driver started slowly moving forward with us and all our luggage. He had collapsed the side mirrors to make room and slowly we inched our way between a tree on one side and the stalled vehicle on the other. Sure enough we passed with an inch to spare on each side. Whew! We all clapped.

We had not gone onward for fifty feet, when Fr. Beda yelled, "Stop!" The driver slammed on the breaks and Fr. Beda took off back down the hill. Suddenly, we heard screaming. Something terrible had happened. A young man had just had an accident with his motorcycle and his wrist was at an abnormal 45 degree angle. Fr. Bill jumped out the back to see if he could help and Steve yelled, "Let me know if you need me." After another blood curdling scream, Steve was out the door as well. Immediately, Steve and Fr. Beda assessed the situation and determined that the man had no pulse to his hand. They would need to reduce the fracture as the man lay on the road. His friends and relatives held him down. Fr. Beda held the upper arm while Steve pulled up and down until the bone snapped into place. The man screamed in pain. "Oo WE!" Translated it mean the same as yelling, "Owie" only the first syllable rhymes with moo. Then, he wretched and threw up. He had been drinking.

Now, Fr. Beda sprung into action calling out directions to those in the area. They could not find a suitable splint. "OK. We will carry him to our vehicle and place him on the bench in the back. Dr. Steve, the white doctor, will hold his wrist in place. I need a ride on a motorcycle to Bwambo hospital so I can go ahead of the car and be ready to receive him there for treatment." We watched them carry the man up the hill as he screamed in pain. "Oo WE!" Where on earth were they going to put him?

First, they laid him on the bench. Then, Steve climbed in while he firmly held the wrist in place. The man was kicking and screaming. Steve lifted his legs to sit on the bench, but as soon as they closed the door, he kicked the window hard. Again and again, he struggled with Steve and tried to bite him. Immediately, a relative jumped in the truck and slapped the patient. He was yelling Swahili obviously telling him to stop and get ahold of himself and do not hurt the nice white doctor. (My translation.) The relative helped Steve to tie his legs together with a scarf so he was less mobile. It was clear that Steve would need this man's help for the trip to the hospital so he stayed in the back, half crouched over the patient next to Steve while Steve sat on a corner of the bench holding the wrist. Fr. Bill climbed in the front along with Fr. Josephat and off we went. Our truck with all the luggage was now hauling nine people! Like I said, "There's always room for one more."

We had no idea how far it was until we would reach the hospital. The man kept screaming as we drove over the roughest road I've ever been on. He was being jostled left and right and Steve was unable to keep the wrist still. The driver kept looking back and trying to go faster, but it was impossible. I said, "Let's pray the rosary" so Fr. Bill led us. The louder we prayed the louder he screamed until we got to the fourth joyful mystery. Then he seemed to quiet a bit. We finished the rosary and still we had not arrived at the hospital. Time passed slowly while we traversed the rocky path while the man still screamed intermittently. After traveling for about thirty minutes, the young man started to wretch and throw up again. His relative miraculously caught most of it in his scarf.

As we passed every house and turned every corner we asked, "Is this it? How much farther!" It appeared that none of the Tanzanians with us spoke English because no one answered. The driver stopped again. Now what! He turned off the four wheel drive and jumped back in. Well, this seemed like a good sign. The road was better, but only slightly. It was now dark and we could only see the road just ahead of the truck. The tension in the car continued to rise as each bump created a new wave of pain and more screams of "Oo WE!" We felt so bad for him. We empathized with him. We were silently praying that we would arrive soon and he could be treated. We were praying for ourselves, too. The ordeal seemed to go on forever!

Then all of the Tanzanians started to laugh. "What did he say?" we all asked. The relative in the back told Steve in broken English, "He wants a drink." We all laughed which broke the tension. Finally, the truck turned off the road into a car park near a well-lit building. The nurses and medical personnel ran to the back of the truck and carried him inside. Steve and the relative of the injured man followed the patient. The driver then backed up and took the rest of us just a block down the hill to the parish rectory to unload our suitcases. It had taken forty-five minutes to get here from the scene of the accident. We all needed a drink so we sent Fr. Bill and a local priest to get us some beer.

Steve and Fr. Beda gave the injured man a sedative and set his arm with a temporary splint. He was put in the men's ward for the night. We were shown to our rooms about two hundred feet down the hill. It was pitch dark and a rough path so we all turned on our iPhone flashlights as we walked. We had not been inside our rooms for five minutes when the power went out (a daily occurrence it seems in Tanzania). We found our way back up the hill to have dinner. Steve reappeared in time to enjoy some beer with us while we waited for Fr. Beda to finish up. We started dinner without him. About an hour later, he joined us and announced that he had just delivered a baby! What a day! It was time for bed.

As we dressed for bed in the dark, we were so thankful that we were at the right place at the right time, that the vehicle with the broken axle was there so we were passing slowly enough to hear the young man's cries for help, and that we had one priest and one orthopedic surgeon and one who was both a priest and a doctor who were there and so willing to help a poor man in pain. The majority of people here are 7th Day Adventist. Yet it is only the Catholic Diocese that built and supports the local hospital, supplies a doctor/priest to work there, and welcomes all people who are in need of treatment no matter their religion. I was so proud to be a Catholic today.

Tanzania Days Two and Three: Maua Retreat Center

We awoke at Bwambo to the sound of roosters crowing very early. Some of us did not sleep well. Jet lag was setting in and we didn't know our days from our nights. The electricity was still not on. There was one working toilet and the shower was a pipe dangling from the ceiling with no hot water. OK. We can cope with this. We'll take turns taking short showers. But wait, there are no towels either. I do remember that a small towel was on the list that we got from Molly Druffner, but I didn't bring one because I didn't know why I would need one. Live and learn. 

We attended the morning mass at 7:00 AM (11PM MN time) and loved the singing. We had five priests concelebrating the Swahili Mass - almost more than the laity but not quite. After grabbing a cup of coffee, we headed to the hospital to see how the patient was doing. As we walked up the steep hill to the hospital, there was the young man sitting outside with his relative. He looked really good and only had small pain at the break sight. He was quiet and looked sheepishly at us. "Thank you," he whispered. We wished him very well. We were surprised to hear that Fr. Beda would like to keep him for a week and then send him home with a full cast. The family would have to bring food for him because the hospital doesn't provide it. They do provide a kitchen with wood burning stove to cook the food. Often a relative stays with the patient and sleeps in the same twin bed. I think they see beds like they see cars - there's always room for more.

We met the midwives and saw the women's wards. There were two rooms of ten beds, but when you add in the relatives staying as well you have over thirty women in two rooms. The reason they are so full is because the pregnant women all come to stay in the hospital 2-4 weeks before they are due. It is government policy that babies must be born in a hospital and so they all come early to be sure to be there when their time comes.

The Bwambo hospital treats malaria, HIV, insect and other bites, broken bones especially from motorcycle accidents, infections, intestinal problems, delivers babies and many more things. It is quite amazing that Fr. Beda can do c-sections in their very small OR which has the barest of necessities. He saves many lives that way. Anything more complicated, they send down the bumpy, rutted road to a nearby city.

After our tour, we had a delicious breakfast of coffee, thin crepe-like pancakes that had bits of onion and extra eggs in them and a kind of fried dough. It was all very good. Fr. Josephat gave us a tour of the rest of the compound where bananas, chickens, cows, pigs, and vegetables are raised. Fr. Beda also has a reforestation project around the compound on which long-term volunteers like the Druffners have worked. He told us that Fr. Beda works hard and often is doing all of the chores in addition to being a doctor and priest. We couldn't figure out when the man sleeps.

With our bags packed, we headed to our next destination down the rocky, rutted mountain path. We were about halfway down when the patient with the broken wrist passed us riding between two others on a motorcycle going back home. Fr. Beda just laughed and said he is not worried that he will come back to get his full cast. "He will come. Surely he will come." The trip down the mountain was so much faster and relaxed than our trip up the mountain.

First we stopped in Same for lunch at the Elephant Motel. Fr. Deo joined us. It was similar fare to many of our meals: spaghetti, French fries, potatoes, cooked greens, fried fish, chicken and fruit, but for the first time we found Coca cola light! After lunch, we unloaded the Land Cruiser and moved our bags to a mini-van for the rest of our trip. It has more seating, but less room for bags. Thankfully there was a rack to put some on top. As we were paying the bill, Bob discovered that his credit card was missing. He considered what to do while Fr. Deo took us to see the Cathedral. It is fairly new and very beautiful. When we returned, Bob and Fr. Beda were gone with the driver. 15 minutes later they returned. Fr. Beda wanted to check and make sure that Bob didn't leave it in our last vehicle. Bob said that it was highly unlikely that they would find it, but sure enough, they found it there. Praise God.

Next we were driving to the Maua Retreat Center near Mt. Kilimanjaro. We have been joking with Fr. Beda that the mountain does not exist because we have yet to see it. He keeps saying "Maybe tomorrow." We keep asking, "Where is Kilimanjaro?" and he says "It is there behind the clouds, really." Now that we are approaching the National Park, we are anxious to have a closer view, but it hides and does not appear. Even though the whole sky is sunny and clear blue, Mt. Kilimanjaro is hidden behind clouds.

We arrive at the retreat center and are welcomed by Sr. Lucy, one of the community of Franciscans who live and work here. It is quiet and clean. The gardens are huge and well-tended. The chapel at the center is a round building with small stained glass. We are shown to our rooms and told that dinner will be at 7:30PM. It was about 30 minutes before the power went out and we had to unpack in the dark again! Our phones and iPads were getting very low on battery power. We had had very little power in the last few days.

The food here is definitely the best we have had. Just about everything we ate was raised right there. We even ate the lettuce salad and sliced tomatoes and were fine. The chicken and beef are more tender and the variety of food has been wonderful. Still we have not been served any bread or cheese or dessert and I'm beginning to miss it. We all went to bed early after doing some laundry in our bathrooms.

The next morning mass with the sisters was at 6:30 AM, but what is the difference if you are jet lagged, right? The electricity was still not on so we tumbled out of bed, quickly threw on some clothes and walked to the chapel. The music this morning sounded like angels singing. The whole community must be 40 or 50 women and the average age was around 35. How hopeful to see this growth in the church. It is also very easy to follow the Mass because it is celebrated exactly the same way as our Mass. We were one in our love of Jesus and the Church his bride.

There was still no electricity back at the room. I was not very hopeful that there would be any hot water, but I tried anyway. Miracle of miracles it was HOT! I really enjoyed that shower. Breakfast held another good surprise - home baked bread. I had three pieces with jam as well as one fried egg. Again, I can say that the food was the best we have had. Fr. Beda gave us a tour of the retreat center which included workshops where they taught women to sew and weave. They're workmanship was beautiful. 

Our day hike on Mt. Kilimanjaro had arrived and not only was it cloudy and humid, it had started to drizzle. The clothes that we had washed the night before were barely dry at all. Even the toilet paper was limp from the humid air. I had not anticipated that we would be essentially in a rainforest on the foot of Kilimanjaro. We debated going to the park with the rain and the high entrance fee. What would we see anyway? In the end, we decided to go and enjoy the hike even if we couldn't see the Mountain of God. We were sure that the Tanzanians had pulled a fast one on the whole world and just painted pictures of a fictitious mountain for show, but we were willing to go along with the hoax.

By the time we reached the park entrance, it had stopped raining and the sky seemed to be lighter. We paid our fees and hired a guide for our 2-3 hour hike. It was a busy place and many people were excited because they were actually climbing to the summit. There was electricity in the air. Before we entered we were told that we cannot bring plastic water bottles into the park. "What? No water on a hike?" We argued that we would not litter and would pack them out, but they were firm. No plastic water bottles. Fr. Beda and Bill took most of it back to the car, but while there they met a man who could rent them containers. So they filled them and off we went. 

It was a wide path and in most places not too steep. The path was laid with large rocks that were the steps so we had to keep our eyes on the trail.We were in a rainforest and and the canopy was dense. It began to rain and the rocks were very slippery. We knew there would be no sighting of Kilimanjaro. We chatted with our guide and learned that he had summited 94 times. 

I was incessantly asking what's this flower or that plant. Being a biology major, I am always curious. Our guide was not a naturalist however. We saw a small pink flower called passionata viola. (One that I remember.) Prior to this I was asking "What's that bird?" Or "What's that flower called?" of Fr. Beda. He would always answer, "it's a flower." "It's a blue bird with a yellow belly." We would laugh and say that he needed to get one more degree in botany in his spare time. By the way, I have added lots of beautiful birds to my bird life list and some I was able to photograph.

The guide made sure to keep us together because he said that some people were robbed in the forest while hiking this path a month ago. Again I was asking about what insects live in the forest and he mentioned that there were red ants that we want to stay away from because they climb up your legs and bite. He mentioned that monkeys live in the forest, but we might not see them because of the rain. Darn. 

I asked the guide how long before the hikers get above the tree line. "Oh," he said. "You must hike the whole first day before you exit the forest." What?!! The realization hit me. We were going on a half day hike and were only going to see trees and vegetation and a rocky path climbing ever higher. I was totally disappointed. Of course, it was a mute point anyway because of the rain. We stopped when we had gone one kilometer and he asked us how much further we wanted to go. We agreed another kilometer would be enough for us. 

Then, we started to meet people going down the mountain. We asked if they had gone to the top and they all said yes. They told us it was clear and sunny on the top of the mountain. It was above the clouds. They had started their assent at midnight that morning and we got to see their pictures. We laughed and said, "Sure, sure, we don't believe it. The mountain is a hoax ." They laughed and said, "You are right. After you hike two days, you receive a memory card of pictures that have been photo-shopped for you." And so we laughed at our misfortune because we had never seen this Mountain of God. We experienced vicariously through them the feeling of being on top of the world. It was still exciting.

Sometime later, I was walking in the front of the group and stopped when I saw some ants. "Look out!" I called. The guide yelled, "Stay away!" I looked to my right as Barb jumped over a huge nest of them on the right side of the path. Everyone steered clear and we stomped our feet and shook out our pants. But we had not walked 5 minutes when Barb started screaming, "I have ants in my pants! They're biting me!" She took off her shoe and I saw one on her sock. "Bob, get it off!" She kept feeling bites up further on her legs. Fr. Beda suggested we all turn our backs so that Barb could take off her pants right there on the path. Steve took out his phone and said, "Would this be a good time for a selfie?" Bob found a number of red ants on her pants and flicked them off. They were about the size of large black ants at home. She took off her socks and found five more. Bob search her shoes and took out a few more. I began to feel bites on my thigh and tried to squeeze and crush the ant inside my pants. I had only two at the most. I checked my socks but did not see any others so I didn't have to take off my pants. After this ordeal, Steve suggested we turn around and we all agreed. We walked further and Barb exclaimed that she must still have some ants in her shoes and Fr. Beda found five more. 

Going down was faster and we made good time. Half way down we saw what is called a dikdik. It is a small hoofed animal like a gazelle. He was shy, but we got a clear view of him a couple of times. No photos. It was so dark because of the canopy and clouds. 

Our hike lasted almost three hours and we could say that we had hiked on Kilimanjaro, but we knew we could not imagine the experience of walking to the summit. For those who do, it must be an experience of a lifetime. We continued to tease Fr. Beda though that we didn't think it was really there.

We returned to the Maua retreat center to find that the electricity was on, but our wet clothes were not drying in this humid environment. Even the toilet paper was wet on the roll. It continued to mist and rain. During our rest time, we were introduced to an African game by our new Danish friends Peter and Linda called Bao that is similar to a game my grandchildren play. It looks like a lot of fun. Peter is a photographer and on their trip to Tanzania had taken 8,000 pictures. They spoke highly of Tarengire our destination for the day after tomorrow. 

Fr. Bill had a broken zipper on his pants earlier in the day and it occurred to him that maybe the women working in the sewing workshop could fix it so he put on his swimming trunks and walked over. They eagerly agreed that they could do it. While he waited outside, some school boys wandered into the compound. They were picking on one kid and called to Fr. Bill, "Come over here." He said, "No, you come over here." He was a bit on his guard, but began to engage them in conversation. He asked what was their favorite subject in school and what did they want to be when they grew up. One boy, the one they were picking on, said, "I want to be president." "President of Tanzania?" asked Fr. Bill. "No, president of the United States like Obama." He laughed. Then, in a moment of inspiration, he ran back to his room and grabbed a frisbee and a soccer ball that he had brought to give to children in Matamba. He pumped up the ball and taught them how to throw the frisbee. He played soccer with them and had fun with the boys. When it was time to leave, he gave them both the frisbee and the soccer ball and once outside the compound they were howling with delight. It was definitely a God moment. 

We joined the sisters for evening prayer. The beautiful three part harmony was accompanied by a keyboard organ and some drums. All hearts were joining in praise of our God. After dinner, we talked about the plan tomorrow and then went to bed exhausted. The electricity stayed on all night and our devices were fully charged.

Morning dawned with another cloudy day. We celebrated mass again with the sisters at 6:30 AM and enjoyed their beautiful singing. The first reading at mass today (Exodus 40:16-21, 34-38) talked about when the cloud lifted for the Jews, they moved their camp and only then did they move. We exited the chapel and lo and behold, the clouds parted and there was Mt. Kilimanjaro in all her glory. We were given a supreme blessing and able to see the Mountain of God at sunrise. We were in awe. What a gift! There actually was a mountain in Tanzania so we had to believe, but blessed are those who have not seen and believed. It was time for us to leave this place of peace just like it had been time for the Jews to leave Mt. Sinai. God was good and we saw the mountain and believed. 

Tanzania Journal: Arusha and Tarengire Safari Lodge

It was a three hour drive from Maua to Arusha, our next stop overnight. We were starved for Internet. We arrived at Planet Lodge and found it to be a wonderful quiet oasis from the busy, dusty Arusha streets with excellent WiFi. We dropped off our bags and sat down for a half hour of Internet. Then we left for lunch at another charming lodge called Arusha Coffee plantation. Barb and Fr. Mike said the coffee was outstanding. Fr. Mike gave up a whole night's sleep for it. Fr. Bill skipped the lunch and stayed back to swim and recreate. The rest of us joined him after lunch.

Our rooms were great except, you guessed it, the electricity went off when we went to dinner and didn't come on until morning. We were excited that we were going to share dinner with a family that hosted Kris Ann Schultz for her semester abroad twenty years ago. The father and two of his children joined us: Henry, Henrietta and Wilson. They were so honored that Kris Ann remembered them enough to contact them and arrange for us to meet them after twenty years. It is so important to them that we come to visit their country. It means to them that they matter. It is the one of best things we can do to encourage these people in their country. And what a joy it was to be with Henry and celebrate his 69th birthday.

The next morning we left at 8:30 AM to meet a man in a small town who would take us to a Maasai village. The traffic in Arusha is bad, but as we left the city, the topography became drier and more savannah-like. Many Maasai men were shepherding their flocks of cows, goats, and some sheep. It was hot and very sunny when we arrived at the Maasai family encampment. The mother, who was slight of build and maybe around 45 greeted us and welcomed us into her hut. It was a round hut with a grass roof and cow dung plaster on the walls. It was as clean as she could make it and obviously recently had been swept out. There was a wall inside which divided the hut into two parts, one was a bedroom and one was a main room. The whole hut had a diameter of maybe 20 ft. On the main room floor was a cowhide which we were told was a bed. It was very thin and brittle. On the cowhide, she had spread out all of her trinkets to sell to us like necklaces, bracelets, and trivets. Fr. Bill bought Barb and I each something. 

We got a tour of their farm yard. On one side, there was a fenced in area where the flock is kept for the night. The fence was made of thorny branches piled on top of one another. There was another hut for cooking which was very smoky. She was cooking a white tea. She told us that she was the mother of nine children. We met 5 of them, a 3 year old boy, a girl of about 10 and one about 13 and two teenage boys who were building a new building for something. They were working on the trusses for the roof. Fr. Beda's brother is an engineer and he used to build with him. He began to advise them how to build a better roof. We all laughed at the chutzpah that he would advise the Maasai how to build a better roof. They listened to him too and started building it like he suggested. The rest of the children were with the father grazing the flock and one boy had moved away to start his own home.

Before we said goodbye, Barb and Fr. Bill started to look in our bags for something to give the mother. What they thought was a scarf was actually a skirt that was way too big for her. Then Barb grabbed her sunglasses and put them on her head and ceremoniously said, "They are perfect. You look beautiful. Zuri sana." which means very good.

Now it was time to drive to Tarangire National Park for three nights and game drives. We entered the gate and went to register and pay the park fees. They are very inexpensive for Tanzanians and very expensive for others. As soon as we entered the park in our van, we began to see animals. It was like Jurassic Park only absolutely no fences and no dinosaurs. The animals in the park come there at this time of year because it is the dry season and inside the park is the Tarangire River. It is one of the few water sources around. The annual wildebeest migration of 2 million animals has begun, but most of them have not arrived yet.

The park is 1000 square miles in size and they have almost every kind of animal you can think of except rhinoceros and crocodiles and many, many more you've never heard of.  As we drove to the lodge, we saw herds of zebra, wildebeest, elephants and giraffes. It was as if they were told to hang out just off the road so the tourists could get a good look. It was truly amazing.

We arrived at the lodge and were greeted with signs that read, "All animals are wild and you must keep your distance." There are no fences around the lodge or tents where we stay. The animals can walk through whenever they want to. During our three days and we have either seen or heard or talked to someone who saw or heard giraffes, elephants, baboons, vervet monkeys, dikdiks, and even lions walking in and around the tents! It is somewhat disconcerting that there are wild animals around and all we have between us and them is the tent canvas. We are not to have any food in our tents whatsoever. They keep it in the lodge in plastic ziplock bags. After dark, we must be escorted to our tents by a lodge employee with a flashlight. Not that that would do any good if we were attacked anyway.

There were elephants within arms reach of our tents a couple of times. We are talking mother elephants with long tusks the size of a large truck along with lots of baby elephant, too. Annette the owner was walking on the path and texting when she looked up and saw an elephant right in front of her. She ran to our tent and unzipped it and dove inside. Fr. Bill was taking pictures of the group of elephants and an employee yelled, "Hello!" He turned around to see an adolescent elephant behind him about 10 ft! He thought to himself, "Stay calm.  Don't run." Then he ran away into the dining room out of breath. A family of baboons even went through the lodge patio where the guests were all seated. Fr. Bill and Fr. Mike heard the clip clip of giraffes next to their tent the first night. We saw the tracks in the morning. We heard lots of different animal noises all night long: elephants, lions, and our last night a strange hissing sound. I looked outside our tent and saw something small run between our tents. It was upset and someone said it might have been a danger call of the dikdik. Maybe a lion was outside the tent camp. Of course, lions are so quiet you don't hear them.

Our tents are two structures really with a tent on top of a cement slab which is the sleeping quarters and the back room which is more of a permanent structure of cement walls and grass hut roofs. The tent zips and has canvas and screens with a very comfortable king size bed. The bath has a toilet, shower, and a sink all with running water and electric lights, but there are no electric outlets. They turn the electricity off and on on a regular schedule so at least you know when you don't have electricity. The main lodge has wifi, electric outlets, and charging stations which also only work for parts of the day.

The main lodge is an open air, very large round building open to the outside. It is a pretty temperate climate. There has always been a nice breeze. The temperature has been perfect between 60-65 at night and between 65 and 80 during the day. It was mostly sunny the first day and mostly cloudy the second day. We have seen the blue moon rise both days. The reception area is spacious, open to the outside patio, and is filled with small seating areas with overstuffed, comfortable chairs in conversation arrangements. Someone is always asking if you need anything. Adjacent to this room is the dining room with screens hanging all around. The whole building overlooks a huge patio the size of two tennis courts with tables, chairs, and cushions. This is where we had happy hour every night with very good popcorn and homemade potato chips. This complex is on the brow of a steep hill. There is a low wall all around which divides the complex from the savannah valley and the river far below. At all times of the day, you can see all sorts of large animals going down to the water to drink. You need binoculars to see them well because they are quite a ways away.

While we were in TNP (Tarangire National Park), we participated in two afternoon, one morning and one night game drives. These game drives were not people driving game so we could see them (which is what I thought). It just means we drive in open jeeps to see the game. And see them we did! The son of the owner of the lodge named Brenden was our guide for three of our drives. He and his parents are Americans, but all have lived their whole lives in Tanzania or Zanzibar.

We were up close and personal (many times within 15-20 ft) with wildebeests, impalas, baboons, giraffes, vervet monkeys, mongooses, ground squirrels, Hyrax, haricot?, warthogs, zebras, ostriches, water bucks, jackals, elephants, dikdiks, and so many kinds of birds I can't begin to mention them. We saw ground birds like guinea fowl, raptors, vultures, parakeets, shrikes, starlings and much more. My favorite bird was the lilac chested roller bird. Look it up. It is beautiful. We had a scary encounter too with a caped buffalo who had a small calf maybe days old. We came around the corner and slowed down to take a look. She was about 20-30 yards away and snorted and ran toward our jeep in a charge. Brenden pressed down on he gas and we sped away.

Fr. Bill's goal was to see a cheetah. The first afternoon we found one resting under a tree. It was about 50 yards away, but we could clearly see it through binoculars. The second day we saw a mother nursing two cubs, but it was in some brush about a quarter of a mile away so we couldn't see it very well. Brenden our guide said that he hasn't seen that for a couple of years. He got a great shot with his camera.

We came upon baboons in a tree and immediately about 30 of them ran down from the tree. We saw huge herds of male elephants foraging separately from herds of mothers and their children, wildebeest and zebra, impalas and giraffes. The impalas and baboons hung out together for protection and because the baboons are messy eaters and drop seeds from the "sausage tree." This tree had many large seed pods that looked like tan sausages the size of an overgrown zucchini. The parrots and many animals broke them open. All is consumed. Nothing is wasted.

Our night drive was a whole other kind of experience. Before the night drive, we had to sign forms that said we would not hold them liable for anything that happens and that we are taking on all of the risk. What were we getting ourselves into? We met Brenden at the jeep and there was a national park ranger with us who carried a gun! It made us all very nervous. As we drove Brenden told us that two weeks ago, they came upon two wildebeests that a pride of lions had killed. Twelve lions began to circle the jeep. They sat very still and soon the pride moved on. Our night drive proved to be very tame in comparison with sighings of nocturnal creatures that we hadn't seen. As we drove they shined a light and watched for the reflection of it in the animals' eyes. We saw African Spring hare (the kangaroo of Africa), our first hyenas, other rabbit like hares, genets who have long, black and white tails like the ringed tailed lemur, bat eared fox, and small hoofed mammals called steinboks.

More next time on our last game drive searching for the illusive lion.

Debbie, Steve, Barb, Bob, Fr. Bill, and Fr. Michael

Mbeya to Matamba and meeting Fr. Mbiche

We arrived in the airport of Mbeya at 8:30 AM and we were very tired after rising at 3:30 AM. We were met by four gentlemen: Fr. Augustin Mbiche, Valentin, the principle of St. Monica's school, a teacher named Mathias, and our driver for the week, David. David is the driver for the bishop of Njombe. He is loaned to us by the bishop for the week. Isn't that gracious? Fr. Augustin has told his bishop all about the Americans who have helped him and his school so much. We came to call him King David and I think he liked it. He is a flashy dresser. He wears sport coats that are brightly colored and has a large silver watch.

We stopped for breakfast at a hotel nearby. Fr. Augustin was so welcoming and said to us, "When I am in America, you take care of me. When you are in Tanzania, I take care of you." It was called breakfast but they offered soup first. Bob ordered the chicken soup and when it arrived, it was a rich chicken broth with many large pieces of chicken. It was a meal of chicken contained in a broth. Fr. Augustin ordered fish soup and he was served a whole fish larger than the bowl in broth. We were so shocked that I took a picture. The men went to the toilet and informed Barb and I that we wouldn't want to use the facilities. It was an opening in the floor that you squat over. We hoped we would find facilities at our next stop, the Cathedral of Mbeya.

We toured the cathedral and then the bishop's house and administration. It was built around a beautiful courtyard. And Barb and I found toilets. The bishop was out of town so we didn't get to meet him. After this, Fr. Mbiche told us we had to wait two hours because he had a reservation for lunch nearby so we decided to rest in a room with big stuffed chairs and a TV. The two priests took a nap in easy chairs and the four of us played bridge.

After an hour, Fr. Michael woke up and suggested we ask if we could have mass in the church. It was a great idea. They showed us to the chapel and we had mass for the feast of St. John Vianney. We offered our mass for all priests. I offered prayers for my brother, Steve, who died on this day 29 years ago.

We ate lunch at the Hill View Hotel. It was good, but it took us over an hour to receive our food. We left very late for our drive to Matamba and the children were waiting to welcome us.

When we turned off the main road, we were not surprised that the road to Matamba was only slightly better than the road to Bwambo. We were tired, but with the jostling we couldn't nap. Back and forth we drove switchbacks until we were dizzy. Fr. Augustin said "There are 72 turns but only 54 are bad." He laughed his hearty laugh. On the way back down, I counted 82 switchbacks, but I could have counted some turns that Fr. Augustin did not. The road in the dry season (May through November) is very fine, rusty dust. It gets into every crack and cranny. Our faces, clothing and shoes are dusty from morning until night. It is no wonder that it is hard to keep clothes and houses clean.

None of us realized, until we arrived, that Matamba is at 8600 ft. whereas Bwambo was at 6200 ft. We noticed the altitude. We were absolutely delighted when we arrived in Matamba at the turn to St. Monica's school. 300 students in t-shirts and and slacks were cheering and yelling, "Karibu sana!" which means "You are very welcome." We got out of the truck and each of us was quickly surrounded by a sea of children. We shook their hands and walked with them while they sang a welcome song over and over until we arrived at the parish about two blocks away. They were so happy and their smiles were expressive of complete joy. We felt their love and their welcome. We were honored and humbled. Outside the parish church, they had decorated some tables and had chairs for us on one side to sit as guests of honor. We were their "distinguished visitors." We were each given bottled water and settled in for the welcome reception.

The English teacher named George was the Master of Ceremonies. He welcomed us and told us what an honor it was to meet us at last. He was very formal and wore his best suit. He took his job very seriously. We were introduced to Fr. Albert, the pastor of the parish of Matamba, Holy Cross. He is a wonderful man, gracious, smart, and dedicated. Fr. Mbiche is his assistant pastor as well as the head of the school.

After a few speeches of welcome, the older children showed us a "gymnastics demonstration." This was their term for phy. ed. class, but it truly was a demonstration because while the teacher kept time with a whistle, the students performed all sorts of physical movements. At least 100 or more of them did the movements together with perfect military precision. Up, down, side clap, side clap, march in place, step back, step forward, lean left, lean right. Well, you get the idea. It was very impressive because it went on for 10 minutes and they had to memorize the sequence of all of the motions. Some of us were surprised when they went down on the bare, dusty ground, did sit ups and kneeled. By the time they were finished, their clean uniforms were dusty and full of dead grass. They were totally unconcerned. They did cheerleader-type stunts making towers and flipping one another and doing cartwheels and flips. They did it with such discipline and dedication that you could see that they were well-trained and wanted to perform well. Then they sang some songs in English, but it was hard to understand the words with their accents. Again, we saw that they were talented and well-disciplined.

There were more speeches and handshakes, and they must have said "Asante sana" hundreds of times. "Thank you very much." Next it was time for gifts. The teachers paraded out with light colored, woven, heart-shaped baskets 15inches in size with each of our names woven in green on them. Others brought out bright colored fabric and motioned for the women first. Barb and I sat in chairs in front of everyone while they tied lengths of fabric over our hair and put a dress and a sash over our clothes. Now it was the guys' turn and they all were given either a pullover v-neck or a buttoned brightly colored shirt out of the same fabric as our dresses. The Americans all matched each other now.

We were each ceremoniously introduced and were asked to give a speech that was translated for the children. We thanked them for their beautiful welcome reception and told them what outstanding students they were and how beautiful their smiling faces were to us. When it was over, many children and teachers shook our hands saying "Asante." over and over again. Whenever people come to visit it is the highlight of their year. We honor them by coming so far to visit them. They say that there are no words to express how much it means to them. Someone from far away knows them and cares about them enough to come so far. It gives them dignity and hope. With the reception over, we retreated to the parish rectory where we were assigned our rooms and could rest until dinner. 

Just like at Bwambo, electricity is sporadic, but we only lost power a few times for short periods. We have no internet while in Matamba so I'm sorry that you are receiving this after a long interval. Our rooms are sparsely furnished with one bulb at the ceiling. We have a small sink with a cold water tap and a mirror. The beds are hard, but pretty comfortable to sleep on. The pillows were very hard so we slept with our flight pillows on top. What is different here from Bwambo is that we have towels and hot water. Yay. The shower is similar to Bwambo where the shower nozzle is hanging from the wall opposite the toilet so it's all one room. When you shower the entire room gets wet including the toilet. I loved the hot water shower though. It felt really good.

Fr. Mbiche is a wonderful host. He provides us with three large meals a day. Breakfast consisted of bread (no butter), jam, a kind of bologna sausage, hard boiled or fried eggs, and fruit like bananas, papayas, avocados, watermelon, and fresh pineapple all grown and ripened in fields nearby. We all claimed it was the best pineapple we had ever eaten. Our favorite thing though was freshly made maandazi. They are kind of fried dough and are addicting. Barb called them "naughty doughnuts." Fr. Mike ate more than most of us. We wanted the recipe. Sometimes we had the infamous chicken soup for breakfast with large pieces of chicken. Lunch and dinner the whole week was the same: rice, spaghetti noodles cooked in a tomato broth, cooked peas or spinach, beef roast pieces in a tomato broth, and either chicken soup (like I described before) or chicken or pork pieces cooked to VERY well done. Once in a while, we had a chicken broth based soup with small bits of egg in it that we loved very much. Everything we ate was delicious except the chicken was so tough we could hardly chew it. I think it was older chickens that were not cooked long enough. I kept dreaming of Allison's coq d'vin. The beef in the broth was usually the best meat protein.

The parish employs five women who cook on a wood burning stove. They are very friendly though they speak little English. We managed to communicate by hand signs and we laughed together - at what I don't know. During supper the first night, Fr. Augustin said that Barb and I would fry the bacon for the group as a very special treat after mass. We thought he was kidding but sure enough he wasn't. The next morning we were invited into the kitchen to fry the bacon on a wood stove. It was our first time cooking on a wood burning stove. The fire was hot and ready for us to fry the bacon. The bacon was not quite defrosted so I cut it in half and separated the pieces. The cooks were watching our technique carefully. I don't think that they had ever prepared it before. It was not very lean and cooked down a lot, but it was a special treat to eat.

Daily masses here are alway at 7:00 AM so we were up early every day. The children all filed in at 6:50 and prayed the morning offering and the Angelus before Mass. They range in age from 4 to 15 years old. They were the best behaved children in mass that I have ever seen. Many of the children are orphans and cared for by extended family in very, very poor circumstances. St. Monica's either gives them free tuition, room and board or the guardians pay what they can.  Fr. Augustin needs donations to cover with the rest. Some children are from the village of Matamba and surrounding villages, but most are too poor to pay much either. About half of the students who board are from all over Tanzania, places like Dar es Salaam, Arusha, Iringa, and other cities. Their tuition, room and board for a year is $550 and still that does not cover all the expenses. Parents who can afford it have heard of the fabulous education students receive here. Fr. Augustine has garnered quite a reputation for insisting on high standards of education along with instilling virtue and discipline.

I'm at the airport with WiFi and can send you this today as Steve and I are on our way back home three days before the rest of our group. We began our journey from Matamba in the Toyota Land Cruiser driven by David. We thought we were only going to be three people, but sure enough there was room for more and seven of us headed down the twisty bumpy road toward Mbeya, Mathias and Valentin were our escorts and two others were catching a ride. The 72-82 switchbacks took 55 min. and in another 2 hrs. we arrived at Mbeya airport. From there we flew to Dar es Salaam and are now waiting for our flight to Amsterdam and then home to MSP. We awoke this morning at 6:45 AM which was 10:45 PM Friday Aug. 7 in MN. We finally arrive home at 3 PM on Sunday Aug. 9 exactly 40 hours later than when we had arisen. Pray that we have a good sleep on the flight to Amsterdam. See you soon. The rest of the travelers will have more adventures with Fr. Mbiche and will arrive home on Wednesday Aug. 12 in the afternoon. I will write more in the next installment about our days hosted by Fr. Mbiche. There is so much more to tell.

Our days with Fr. Mbiche: Wednesday Aug. 5

After our breakfast with bacon Wednesday morning, Fr. Augustin gave us a tour of St. Monica's. It is next to the parish. The land was given to him by a farmer who was very generous in exchange for free tuition for his grandchild. He showed us administrative offices, schoolrooms, and storage rooms for school supplies, food like rice, beans and maize, building materials, and hygiene and cleaning supplies. Fr. Augustin proudly showed us the two Sim tanks he bought with money from St. Rita's. They are to hold water to be used in the dormitories. We saw the laundry and the room where he already has plumbing installed for the new washer he is buying with money from Fr. Bill's church. He said that this will save monthly expenses and be more efficient. The boys have a new dormitory and the girls will have a new one when he can find the funds. His newest project is to build a building to house a maize grinder. Currently he pays someone monthly to do this. He is trying to avoid large monthly expenses since donations don't come in on a consistent basis. We saw the kitchen where a huge pot of red beans was cooking. It was at least a 15 gallon pot cooking over a wood fire.

Father has built a social hall where the children eat meals and they have all school programs. He also rents it out for weddings and other functions to help pay for expenses. He doesn't have enough desks for all the children and when they come to eat, they all bring their chairs from the school rooms to be able to have a chair to sit in during meals. It's just the way life is for them. They accept it and do whatever they are told.

Each day begins at 6:00 AM with wake-up call. They clean up and all walk to the parish for morning prayer and mass every day including Saturday and Sunday. The boarders go home at Christmas, Easter and summer break for extended times. We really felt sorry for the little ones so far from home for so much of the year, but we saw that they were very happy. Some don't even like to go home because of the circumstances. They are all expected to do their own hygiene, make their beds, keep their personal things in order and to perform some jobs. They help with laundry, mopping floors, cleaning class rooms, etc. The schedule is regimented and regular because order and discipline are virtues to be encouraged.

Our visits to the classrooms were so much fun. As we would enter, the students would all stand and greet us. "Good morning." Fr. Augustin or one of us would say, "How are you?" They would answer, "We are fine. How are you, too?" in a sing song kind of way.  They are learning English in this school because of its importance as a second language. Usually, Fr. Bill would take the lead and engage the students. He would ask what they were studying and what was their favorite subject. He told them he used to be a math teacher before becoming a priest and he loved math. He would laugh and joke with them, too. Fr. Augustine taught us to say, "Tum Sifu (sp?) Jesu Christu!" which means "Praised be Jesus Christ!" And they would all answer, "Malele. Amina" (sp?) which means "Now and forever. Amen." He would blurt it out with such pride and enthusiasm that it always brought smiles to their faces.

With another part of the St. Rita's money, Father A. purchased a beautiful cross for each school room. It has lighter wood with a black corpus. They are so beautiful that we hope to purchase more to bring back to America with us. Each school room is named for a donor or church. We saw many rooms with the St. Rita's name on it and we all were proud of what Fr. Augustin has done to honor his donors. 

The cutest kids were the kindergarten I and II classes, ages 4 and 5. They were all very shy and would smile and stare at the white people. The children all commented on Barb's blond hair, our fancy nails and our wrinkled hands. The kindergarteners were learning their abc's and writing them phonetically on the cement floor. The whole floor was covered with their chalk printing. These teachers have learned to make do with what they have.

At noon, all the students and teachers carried chairs to the social hall for a program especially for us. It was a combination choir concert and drama performance. We were escorted to the stage as honored visitors. The choir entered from the rear and came down the center aisle. Two boys were keeping time with their drums. One young girl was the soloist and leader of the group. She would sing a line and they would answer. She has a lovely voice. The tunes were catchy and in English, but it was hard to hear all the words. One song they did was one we are sure would never be performed in the US. It was about HIV aids and how they need to protect themselves to have a good life. Aids is a huge part of their lives. It is estimated that 40% of the people in this area are infected by HIV. They all know someone who is infected or has died. St. Monica's emphasizes abstinence following church teaching. The curriculum for abstinence begins early in order to teach them how to control their passions and teach them to live a life according to Judeo-Christian values. The second song was really more sad as the children sang a lament for their country and the lives that have been lost from AIDS. It was beautiful singing and yet so tragic. The one act play that followed was about two children who want to go to school, a boy and a girl. The parents reject the girl's wishes to attend school and make her do domestic work. It is a common occurrence here. Girls are not given the opportunities that boys are. The boy goes to school and gets into a bad crowd. He becomes addicted to drugs and his parents are very unhappy. We couldn't hear them very well nor understand their English because of their accent so it appeared that the drama ended without resolution. It was a morality play in which the listener forms the obvious conclusion. Don't do this.

The lives of these children in Tanzania are so foreign to us, but the children at St. Monica's are the lucky ones. These are the ones who are smart enough, lucky enough, and diligent enough to get an education and better their lives. For instance, in Tanzania, the children are given exams to see if they have met certain standards just like we have in the US, but the difference here is that if they don't pass the exam in seventh grade, they can no longer go to school. They are sent home to work and eek out a living with their families. The children who cannot learn are left behind. At St. Monica's, the children are reminded every day that they have been given a precious opportunity and privilege to attend a private school. If they misbehave or do not meet the standards, they are sent home to a life of poverty. It is a clear reminder of the differences between our countries. Tanzania does not have an economic system which can support and train all children. So many are left to try to find unskilled work. They do it by selling anything they can or doing menial tasks. They barter. They raise vegetables or chickens. They buy anything they can find (or steal) and sell it at a higher price to make a little money to eat. Anything to try to live, but they can never escape the poverty without an education. The system doesn't help them either. Fr. Augustin knows all too well the abject poverty that exists and this is why he works so hard to educate as many children as he can. He has a special heart for the orphans who have lost so much and have very little hope.

After lunch, our task was to deliver uniforms to the orphans in town who attend public schools. Most of us didn't know how much fr. Augustin reaches out to the whole district to help the orphans no matter their faith or lack of it. He asked us to send money for 100 uniforms before we came. He told two public schools in Matamba to measure the students who were most in need. Almost all were orphans. He then ordered the uniforms to fit them and they were delivered before we arrived. We piled into the Land Cruiser with the uniforms and drove to the public schools. Fr. Michael stayed back to get some needed rest and to catch up on his blog.

Again, our vehicle was met with great celebration. The children had picked branches and were waving them and screaming "Karibu sana." At the first school, we were led into a large classroom where the children receiving uniforms and their parents or guardians were seated. Political dignitaries, school board members and administrators were seated on a raised platform at one end of the room. Again, we took a place of honor. Many speeches were given and we heard much praise for Fr. Augustin and the work he is doing. He is highly revered by all people of every faith. We even saw a tear in his eyes as he listened to their gratitude. There are many Lutherans here because of missionaries who were here 75 years ago. There are some Moslems and many Christian Evangelicals, but Catholics and Lutherans are the highest percentage. Fr. Augustin reaches out to all and accepts people where they are at. He reminded us of Jesus in this way

After the speeches translated by a local politician were given, a St. Monica employee named Geneviv called out each child's name. The children filed up one by one to receive their uniform from Barb and I. Steve and Bob took pictures of each one with us. They did not smile and only a few said "Asante" very quietly. In general, they did not seem as happy as the children at St. Monica, but I wonder if it was because they were embarrassed to be singled out as "needy." Their current school uniforms were literally threadbare, ripped and dirty. Some had very large tears in their shoulders and pant legs. Their "white shirts" were really a khaki color because they were so dirty. The uniforms we handed out were bright blue with white shirts. I don't know why Fr. Mbiche bought white shirts. They will never stay clean and their new uniforms didn't match the old uniform colors. I wonder if they won't stick out as different. It is not for me to question. In contrast, the parents and guardians were beyond thankful. They bowed to us and thanked us until I felt so embarrassed that I had not done more.

We each also had to give a speech again and we tried to communicate our love and solidarity with them. Although, of course, we could not imagine what their lives were really like. The point is that we had come to meet them, and be with them and shake their hands as a testament of our love and care for them. They truly appreciated it.

Once we had finished handing out the uniforms, Fr. Bill took out his gift to the school. Two soccer balls and a frisbee. He went outside and began to play with the children. Bob and Steve helped him demonstrate how to throw a frisbee. He was really getting into it when he stepped in a hole and tumbled to the ground. He was fine, but his clothes were dusty and dirty. We smiled and left for the next school.

This school was more remote and much poorer. The class rooms had no windows or electricity  and barely any desks. With very little funds for books or paper, learning is done by rote memorization. This ceremony to present the uniforms took place outdoors so all the children and their guardians or parents could gather around. We were given chairs while they sat on the dusty ground. The head teacher or principal was very appreciative of Fr. Augustin and spoke well of him. This time Steve and Bob handed out the uniforms while Barb and I took pictures. These children appeared equally as needy as the other children. After we had handed out all the uniforms, the head teacher told us that they wanted to give us a gift to show their appreciation. We had given out of our surplus, but these poor people gave to us out of their poverty so generously. With great pride and ceremony, they brought out a 50# bag of rice, a 40# bag of beans and 18 eggs. We were humbled and thanked them from the bottom of our hearts. Fr. Augustin told them that their gift was received with great joy.

The best part for the children again was when Fr. Bill broke out the soccer balls and frisbee. They played and laughed and loved it. It is easy to see how much he loves the children. As he went for a ball, he stumbled again only this time he didn't have time to catch himself. He fell hard on his shoulder and face and just avoided a large rock. He was dizzy and felt a little nauseous. All the people ran up to see what happened and they said, "Pole." "We are sorry." Steve examined him and saw that he needed some ice and a bandaid. We left soon after to go back to the rectory. Fr. Bill said he needs to remember that he is getting older and cannot do what he used to do. Lesson learned. He ended up with a scratch on his cheek and some bruising, but otherwise there was no further injury. Thank you all for your prayers. I told Fr. Bill that he really keeps his guardian angel busy with his antics.

According to my memory, our evening was free, but can that be true? Fr. Augustin seemed to have every minute planned out for us. At times, we were really exhausted, but there is not one thing I would take away from our trip. Tomorrow we leave for a trip down the bumpy, twisty mountain road again. This time we drive to Njombe, the center of this diocese to visit Fr. Mbiche's bishop, Alfred ____. Sorry. I forgot his last name. I'll write about that amazing trip next.

Our last days with Fr. Mbiche:

Thursday August 6, Feast of the Transfiguration. Our day began with morning mass on the Feast of the Transfiguration. Fr. Bill and Fr. Michael concelebrated as usual. I followed along with my Magnificat on my iPhone. I must be discreet to not appear to be doing something else with my phone. It is a foreign device here.

When we are in a foreign country, it is so comforting to celebrate mass together. We are always one in faith even though we don't speak the same language. Except for a few local customs, the mass is the same everywhere. The Tanzanians kneel a lot more than we do and it is always on wood. Ouch. Our old knees have been hurting. They kneel for the penitential rite, the Intercessions and they stay kneeling after communion until the final blessing. They only stand when they sing the recessional song. They also all recite some prayers that we don't understand at the beginning and end of mass.

After breakfast, we packed our backpacks for an overnight stay at the bishop's residence in Njombe. We drove down the mountain on that treacherous road in the Land Cruiser with 8 people: the six of us plus Fr. Mbiche and David our driver. Steve, Bob and Fr. Bill were cramped in the rear on two hard bench seats. Steve had to hunch over because of the height of the ceiling, but they would not hear of the ladies sitting in the back. Being cramped and enduring the twisty, rough and rock strewn path that they call a road is beyond difficult and tiring, but our men never complained.

I'd like to relate to you a phenomenon that we have seen throughout Tanzania. It is the presence of motorcycles. They were introduced ten years ago by the Chinese who are everywhere in Africa and South and Central South America buying up resources in exchange for building infrastructure. (Sorry, that's a little off topic.) These motorcycles called "boda bodas" have greatly improved transportation for the poorest people. This mode of transportation is cheap, reliable and easy to maintain. The people use them to transport an amazing amount of goods for commerce and just for hauling supplies and people. After you buy one for about $500, you can now be a local taxi and charge money for fares. You can take your produce from the land like maize or corn, rice, avocados, bananas, charcoal, or wood for fires to the markets. We commonly have seen three people on a motorcycle riding up the mountain path.  Once we saw a person and with a live pig laid across his lap. Another time there were two people on one motorcycle with a mattress folded in half behind them. We have seen them haul 100# bags of rice or maize and large bundles of wood and charcoal (more about that later). They are much better and faster on the bumpy Tanzanian roads because they can navigate the rocks and potholes better. They can drive on narrow paths and make their way through traffic jams by going between the lanes. It is incredible the ways that the Tanzanians have found to use these cycles. As with anything, the downside is that by law they are supposed to have a vehicle license as well as a driver's license, but the government is not able to enforce the laws with the explosion of the number of boda bodas. Most people do not take lessons in how to drive them safely. They often do not obey the traffic laws and many drive while under the influence as we witnessed on our first day. Traffic deaths have skyrocketed.

Njombe is located in what they call the highlands of Tanzania. It is one of the coolest places in Tanzania (literally) yet their location near the equator makes the climate moderate. It is ideal for growing produce and trees year round. This area also has adequate monthly rainfall unlike other places in Tanzania. Since the days of colonial rule by the British after WWII, Tanzania has been a major tea exporter due to the fact that the location and climate are ideal. As we drove to Njombe, we passed a humongous parcel of land that the English crown leases from the Tanzanian government. Their lease began when they gave Tanzania independence in 1961 and will be up for renewal after 99 years. I don't know how many acres we are talking, but it might be over 250,000 acres. It was impressive to see miles of tea plantations and forests for harvesting timber. The climate is excellent for growing trees rapidly. They can harvest timber in as little as 12 years. They are experimenting with a new species which can be harvested in only 8 years.

In the late morning, we arrived at the diocesan complex which included the bishop's quarters, visitor quarters where people like us stay, quarters for diocesan priests to stay when they come from remote areas of the diocese, administrative offices and the Cathedral of St. Joseph. Fr. Peter and Fr. Xavier met us with a jolly welcome. Fr. Peter was the secretary of the late Bishop Raymond _______ (forgot his last name) who was the first bishop of diocese of Njombe. He was appointed in 1971 and served until 1998 (approximately). He was a visionary and a pioneer. He died in 2013 at the age of 84. Many spoke of him with great love and high esteem especially Fr. Peter who cared for him until he died. Fr. Peter is a mentor and spiritual guide for seminarians and young priests today. He is of retirement age, but says that there is no retirement for priest in Tanzania as long as they are healthy. He helps at the Cathedral and takes visitors like us around. And he does his job very well. He was a joy to get to know. His English is very good and he shared with us a wealth of information about the history of the diocese, their minor seminary and the various ministries of the diocese. It was from him that we learned most of the information I'm sharing with you in this post.

We were a little late as usual so as soon as we dropped our bags in our rooms we left for a tour of what they call their minor seminary. It is a high school seminary for ages 14-20. St. Joseph's Seminary at Kilocha was the brainchild of the late Bishop Raymond. His vision was a high school seminary that would be self-sustained by a working farm. The labor would be done by the seminarians who would learn the skills and knowledge that it takes to run a farm or any business for that matter. They could then contribute to their own livelihood through the profits of the land and animal husbandry. Whether they became priests or not, the seminary would turn out moral, capable and skilled young men who would either go on to become priests or study something in college or get married and be able to run a farm to support their families. Bishop Raymond felt that priests should know how to raise crops and animals for market because many of the people with whom they minister cannot give anything to support the running of a parish. The profits from a "side" business help priests to fund their charitable works as you will see when I talk more about the Matamba parish health center run by Fr. Albert.

The seminary is located in a remote area because the land was cheaper and the seminarians would be far from distractions. In Tanzania, that means that after a time, you turn off the tar road and drive on a bumpy path at 10 kilometers per hour for over an hour. We had no idea that the seminary would be this far away. Before we reached the seminary, we stopped at a tea plantation owned by the diocese of Njombe. It was a partnership between the diocese, private investment, local land owners and financial institutions with the goal of job creation, profits to be used for diocesan projects and the sharing of information and expertise with small farmers to give them a consistent income from their labors. The diocese borrowed $3 million when they started this project. Once tea plants are planted, it takes three years before they produce a harvest, but the same plant will produce for one hundred years. The planting began 12 years ago. They hope to be profitable after twenty years. It is so far going according to plan. Every week, three tea leaves at the end of each branch are trimmed and put into large woven baskets carried by the workers. When you see rows upon rows of tea plants all perfectly trimmed to exactly the same height, like rows of 3 ft. tall hedges and you think of workers bending over for hours snipping off the tips of the tea growth, it blows your mind, but this is a good job that pays all year round because they harvest all year round. The diocese employs 120 workers for this and helps many of them to plant their own tea plants on ground that they lease themselves.

After harvest, the tea leaves must be kept out of the sun and hauled to a processing plant to make tea. This is where the different kinds of tea are prepared. Black teas, green teas, orange pekoe teas and others are all made in the factory by different processing. The price you get for tea leaves depends on their quality. The closer you are to the processing plant, the better the quality. The diocese is a excited that someone is building a processing plant nearby within a few years. They expect to double the price they receive for tea leaves when it opens. This will also increase profits for the local farmers whom the diocese helped to get started.

We arrived at the seminary and had lunch with the Vice-rector and some of the teachers. The seminary began construction in 1996 and opened in 1999. Bishop Raymond got to see his dream come true, but died a year before the first priests who were graduates of this minor seminary were ordained. The vice-rector and one of the teachers we met were two of these seminarians. They were ordained only a year ago and seemed to be well-formed young priests. They have been given important leadership positions.

The seminary complex is spacious and well laid out. There are many buildings for dorms, classrooms, a chapel, dining hall, and residences for priest faculty members. There is a soccer field for games, too. Located on the grounds is a farm where the seminarians work. They raise cattle, pigs, chickens, pineapple, avocados, maize, vegetables, bananas and more. They raise everything that they eat. They clean the classrooms and dining halls. They take care of the gardens and grounds. Essentially, Fr Peter listed so many jobs for which they were responsible that we surmised that with all the other things students do like study, go to class, pray, go to mass and play sports, they must have 36 hours in their day.

The ever enthusiastic Fr. Bill again presented the students with 2 soccer balls, a frisbee and an American football. They loved it, but this time I noticed that Fr. Bill wasn't diving to catch the balls. He was being a little more protective of himself. We toured the whole farm and were taken to see the dam they had built to creat a pond in which they had deposited fish hatchlings in order to stock the lake. The seminarians can fish for tilapia and catch their supper, too. They can also use this pond to irrigate their tea plantation if needed. What Bishop Raymond began has turned into a great environment for educating young men. They are beginning to see the fruits of their labor. Seminarians are being ordained every year who are products of this seminary.

We headed back to Njombe with Fr. Peter. He is quite the talker and would point out many things along the way. One thing that we found interesting was how they make wood charcoal. On the diocesan property, every spare acre that is not used for the farm or the tea plantation is being planted with trees for timber. When they harvest an area, nothing goes to waste. The branches and other pieces of wood that cannot be used for lumber are put into a large pile. They build a kind of frame around it with prairie grasses and then cover it with dirt. They light the wood pile underneath on fire and once it gets going they cut off the oxygen to the fire by completely covering it with dirt. This allows the wood to smolder for a week. When it is ready, the fire dies down and they let it cool for a few days. Then, they take away the dirt and find that wood charcoal has been created. It is chopped up and sold as fuel for wood stoves. It is efficient and practical. The diocese then replants tree seedlings and the whole process begins again. A problem occurs when many people do this by illegally cutting down timber in forests near their homes thus destroying the natural resource in the process.

We arrived back in time to clean up, take showers and rest for a few minutes. Of course, the power went out again while some of us were in the shower. It is hard when you are in a foreign environment to find your way without a light. We have learned to always keep our iPhones or a flashlight nearby.

Our evening meal was in the diocesan residence with the current Bishop Alfred. What a pleasure it was to meet him! His is an intelligent man, a good communicator and humble. All of these are qualities you want in a Bishop. We had long discussions with him over dinner and drinks about many things. We found him to be a pastoral man whose first priority was the care of his flock especially the poor. In addition, he was working to help all the people of Njombe regardless of creed. "Every project and idea must have a pastoral objective to help the people to live productive lives," he said. Fr. Michael asked the Bishop about the upcoming synod on the family in October and what he thought should be discussed. He said was supportive of dialogue, but he wasn't ready to give up moral ground. Others can speak more about what he said to us than I can here, but suffice it to say that we were all impressed by him.

Before we retired for the evening, we presented him with a crucifix and a watch from St. Rita's. Fr. Bill gave him a part of the money that his parish had donated before he came to Tanzania. His parishioners gave a generous amount of money in a Sunday collection to be given to Fr. Mbiche and his bishop. I know the money will be put to good use in Njombe and St. Monica's and elsewhere. The Bishop was surprised and so thankful for the Americans who selflessly gave to his diocese.

Friday, August 7, we celebrated Mass at the Cathedral with Fr. Bill, Fr. Michael, and priests of the diocese of Njombe. After breakfast, we headed out to tour another project of the diocese, a vocational school for teenagers who did not pass exams to be able to go on to high school. Again the idea was to have small businesses run by students who would learn by doing and sell the work of their hands to pay for the school's expenses. We toured the farm, gardens, classrooms and dorms. The student workers were building new dorms and learning the painting trade, masonry, carpentry, plumbing, etc. in the process. The whole school is done in cooperation with an NGO from Paraguay, I think. They are sharing this model with many countries throughout the world in an effort to end poverty.

Next we went for a much anticipated visit with Fr. Augustin's family. We were invited to a luncheon at his sister's home in Njombe. His mother and another sister were also there. They welcomed us with open arms. Fr. Augustin is one of nine or eleven children, I think. He is the only priest, but two of his nephews are in minor seminary. We were overwhelmed with the gracious hospitality that they offered us. They served us a full meal similar to others we have had with rice and chicken soup and a delicious banana stew. Of course, there was the naughty doughnuts called maandazi. Soon they brought out more gifts than we could carry. Fr. Augustin's sister is a seamstress and she had made dresses for Barb and I and shirts for the four men. There were embroidered twin sheets with matching pillow shams as well as baskets with our names on them and purses for Barb and I. We could not express our gratitude enough and secretly we all wondered how in the world were we going to get all of this home.

We drove back to the Cathedral and said goodbye to our new friends Fr. Peter and Fr. Xavier. It was time to return to Matamba. It was a long three hour drive back up the rocky path they call a road. We stopped halfway so that Fr. Augustin could do some grocery shopping and pick up some supplies. We had drinks at a place where Fr. Augustin's friend was the proprietor. It was called the Vatican City Inn. We laughed to find a place named that in the middle of Tanzania. Other businesses we laughed about along the way were the Obama Pub and the California Hair Salon. We met many Tanzanians who loved America.

Many people in Africa hold Pres. Obama as a role model and hero because of his African heritage and his rise to the US presidency. It was interesting to follow his trip to Kenya and Ethiopia. There was much discussion about how the people of Africa disagree with him on the issue of same sex marriage. They don't want to hear about it nor be pressured to change their policies. On this issue, Pres. Obama is not popular with them.

We arrived in Matamba safely and had an hour to get ready for the big farewell party hosted by the teachers of St. Monica's school. The power went out about seven so the party which was supposed to start at 7:30 didn't start until after eight o'clock. The teachers had decorated a classroom and hired a DJ with huge speakers. The music was loud as we enjoyed a delicious buffet supper that the women teachers had prepared. I made sure that the ladies were complimented. We were all in the place of honor again. Besides the teachers, supporters of the school were invited to be there such as the man who had donated the land, engineers who had helped design and construct the school buildings, elected officials of Matamba, and public school board members.

Soon George, the English teacher, stood up as MC again and began the program. First, we listened to some music. Then all of the guests were introduced including us. More time to listen to music followed. Now many people were asked to give a speech while the pastor of Matamba Catholic parish, Fr. Albert, translated. After each speech we had a musical interlude. Soon, George announced that they had prepared some gifts for us and before our eyes paraded more gifts. This time it was wicker serving trays with our names on them and twin sheets and pillow shams. Again, we were blown away by their generosity and gratitude.

It was time for dancing. One of the town's people got up, took a swig of his Coca cola and placed the bottle on his head. He swiveled his hips and moved his arms to the reggae music and never did the bottle even waver. I took a video of it because you wouldn't believe it. We all said that Coca cola company should use it in an ad.  Maybe if I post it on YouTube it would get lots of hits. Then Fr. Bill got up to join him in the dance. He was moving and grooving to the music when Steve placed a bottle of Fanta on Fr. Bill's head (he didn't let go though). Everyone roared with delight as Fr. Bill danced while Steve held the bottle on his head. Soon, we all joined in the dance. Barb and I started a conga line and everyone in the room joined in while around and around the room we went to the music.

Now it was our turn to give speeches. We each spoke from our hearts. We thanked them for all they were doing at St. Monica's and for all they had given us. Their dedication and skills were helping to form and educate the next generation. There was a feeling of hope in that room that was intoxicating. We were all the People of God working to bring about the Kingdom of God on earth. We promised to pray for one another. We promised to never forget the kindness and generosity shown us. They promised to always remember that people in America cared about them and had become their friends. We said goodbye and walked home with more gifts we had to pack somehow into our suitcases.

Saturday, August 8, was the day that Steve and I were leaving for home. We had to get back before the others because of work at home for both of us. It felt like it was time. The others, especially Fr. Augustin, were sad that our Tanzanian Travelers group would be broken up. Steve and Bob are both excellent packers and went to work to find room for all of our gifts in the suitcases. We had brought many gifts for the Tanzanians whom we greeted on this trip and all of them were given away so we had three empty suitcases to work with. Steve and I had more restrictions on our bags since we were flying inside Tanzania on Fastjet to catch the flight from Dar to Amsterdam. Fastjet specifies that you can only have one checked bag of 40#. The others were driving back to Dar es Salaalm to catch the flight to Amsterdam so they could check two bags of 50# each. Barb intended to do some shopping with friends of Fr. Mbiche and sell the items as a fund raiser for the Mission Outreach Commission.  We decided to purchase a number of the crosses that Fr. Mbiche had purchased for the classrooms which also would be sold at St. Rita's. These items would all need to be packed in the baggage.

Steve and I were mostly packed after breakfast and there was one more tour yet to do. Fr. Albert runs a small clinic/hospital behind the church. We had not had time to see it. We walked around a building and some farm equipment to see a large parcel of land behind the church that we had not noticed. It had been hidden by a crop of maize or corn. The corn, Fr. Albert said, was his. He sells the corn crop (and other crops he plants) to help run his ministries just like Bishop Raymond had recommended.

First, we were shown a large, metal shipping container. A Vincentian nun who works with Fr. Albert runs a sewing school for "street girls." Today, during their winter, the container was pleasant, but I can imagine it gets very hot in the summer time. She had four sewing machines in which she teaches 15 girls how to sew and do tailoring. She would like more machines in order to invite more girls to class. It was dark inside the container and I wondered why they didn't take a welding torch and cut some windows in it.

"Where did the shipping container come from?" I asked. It came from a Lutheran from Annandale, MN named Mark Jensen who was the man who introduced Fr. Augustin to Fr. Bill. Mark had shipped medical supplies from an NGO called Hope for the City (if my memory is right) along with 130 boxes of nutritious meal packets with rice (similar to those from Feed my Starving Children). Fr. Albert wondered why they would send rice when he hadn't asked for it. He obviously hadn't read the nutritional information on the bags enough to understand that it wasn't just rice, but a complete meal! Barb explained that these meals were so much more than just rice, but nutritionally sound meals including protein.  It was a God moment for sure when he realized what he had.

Another reason that he was unhappy about the rice was because the Tanzanian government held up the container for five months until he could pay tariffs on the rice packets. Importing a product grown in Tanzania means you must pay a tariff. It had cost him also $8 a day for storage of the container while it was held. This is a problem we have heard about recently from others. Shipping rice packets with Feed My Starving Children and other groups to other countries who grow and produce rice causes the recipients of the rice packets to have to pay tariffs on the food in order to receive it. If this is true, it seems to me that these organizations need to begin packaging healthy meals with rice, protein and vegetables inside these countries with native people and locally grown rice so that it can be distributed to their neighbors or even for themselves. This would also help the local economy by purchasing locally grown food. I'll have to research further to see if this a problem elsewhere.

Fr. Albert walked on to show us the health center. According to government policy, they can't call it a hospital unless they have an operating room. He hopes to build one in the future. The complex of buildings formed a large quadrangle with gardens and walkways in the center. He employs a married couple who are both doctors to run the clinic and various wards for inpatients. They have the same phenomenon as in Bwambo where expectant mothers arrive at the health center 2-3 weeks before they are due to deliver. Because they don't have an operating room, careful examinations are necessary so that women who might require a C-section can be transferred to a hospital at the bottom of the mountain. He showed us his prized piece of medical equipment which had arrived in the shipping container - the ultrasound machine. They use it almost 2-3 times a week. It is very valuable for evaluating the pregnant women and contributes to healthy children. They also use it to diagnose gall bladder problems and more. Steve was very impressed with how clean, orderly and well-run the entire health center was. It appeared that Fr. Albert is a good administrator as well.

We ate an early lunch so that we could leave at noon to catch our flight to Dar es Salaam from Mbeya. It was sad to say goodbye to everyone, but we hope to see Fr. Mbiche next year if he can come to MN. It took three hours to get to the airport, but we have had no problems with our travel home. Thank you all for your prayers. We were safe and healthy the whole trip.

As I write this I'm on a plane two hours from the Twin Cities. We are tired but excited to see everyone and to tell you more about our trip to Tanzania. I especially have missed our children and grandchildren and, of course, my bed and my pillow. We've been gone for two weeks and have experienced many things that I could not begin to express in these journals, but I hope I have given you a small window into our experiences and into mission outreach travel in general. It is enriching and difficult; grace-filled and trying; wonderful and frustrating. Traveling in a third world country is this and more. You will never be the same. Poverty will never look the same when you know people and have friends who live in poverty.

If you decide to travel on a mission trip, you will make wonderful new friends. You will gain insight into the trials that they face from governmental deception to economic policies that hamper substantive change to moral corruption and greed. You will have more compassion and begin to feel empathy for their plight, but more importantly you will witness the indomitable human spirit of those who take one day at a time and do what they can with what they have. You will see hope in the faces of children eager to learn. You will experience the joy of solidarity as you leave the comforts of home and live without conveniences you've taken for granted every day: hot showers; variety in your diet; a house without cockroaches; driving on roads that are smooth and well-maintained; having heat in the cold months and air conditioning in the warm months; having windows that aren't broken and floors that are clean; having a dish washer, washing machine, gas stove and microwave; having real ground coffee instead of instant; having dependable electricity and feeling safe in your environment. For all these things and more you will be more appreciative and thankful. And your world will have grown to include friends from a far away land.

Debbie

P.S. I couldn't have written this without the help of my fellow travelers and especially Steve who I consulted often to refresh my memory of experiences and timelines and facts. I'm sure I got some things wrong and for this I apologize. Everything that I wrote was from my perspective. My fellow travelers will have other memories and other prospectives. Please listen to their stories as well. Keep praying for the rest of the group. They will have more experiences to share about their last days in Tanzania. They arrive home Wednesday.