Tanzania Wrap-Up

Well, our month in Tanzania is over, and I'll be honest, I couldn't be more glad.  When I think of all the countries that I've done ministry in, Tanzania has been my least favorite.

Don't get me wrong, the people were great for the most part, and I loved the community we worked with, but our ministry contact was exhausting, set in his ways, and most of the time outdated or blatantly wrong.  One brief example is he asked us to tithe to the church, which most of us do at the end of the month religiously, but he wanted us to set a good example for the members of the church that giving was good.

Great idea, what's bumping up our usual tithe a week and setting a good example.  Well, it would have been fine, but our pastor had an obsession with the church being good.  He even went so far as insulting a church's incomplete construction saying it was not good enough for God or the mzungus (white people).  I nearly lost it.  God doesn't want white marble, he'd be just as content in a mud hut or with no hut at all.

Well, it annoyed me further when we did go to tithe, he looked in and inspected each amount of money that we put in, and even had the audacity to shake his head sadly at a few.  The majority of my team doesn't have two pennies to rub together.  It was the final nail in an already well constructed coffin.  But, enough about pastor.  He's not the first nor the last leader of a church to get it wrong.

The community, as I said, was amazing.  We woke up most morning being able to see Mt. Kilimajaro poking its head through the clouds, and the people were great.  We met a woman named Nancy, an elderly, grandmotherly type who made us tea and talked about her long life.  Above all, she was lonely.  Her husband had recently passed away, and her children were out of the house.  Katrina was able to encourage her, and I feel like we were a great comfort to her.

On Paul, the young Christian with a variety of family issues, things escalated.  We were going by for a leisurely check, just to see how he was doing, and when we got there, we found him again in tears.  The tension in the room was palpable.  Paul's knuckles were cut and SheetRock dust was upon his hand, as if he had punched a wall.  The thing is, Africa doesn't have SheetRock, so the dust was from a concrete wall.  Moreover, he smelled strongly of alcohol; we weren't even sure if he was sober.

I think I was the first to recover from the shock of an unexpected situation, so I pulled the story out as best I could among the sobs.  It turns out that the previous night, he had gone out with friends, and come back to find the door to his mother's house (where he was staying) locked.  Anger was his first reaction, so he got an axe (yes, an axe) and began banging on the door, demanding that his mother unlock it and let him in.  Understandably, his mother and sister were terrified, and kept the door shut.  When they finally let him in, after he calmed down or sobered up, he tried to apologize profusely, but his mother wanted him out of the house.

To be honest, I can't remember what I said to him, but it was a strong combination of encouragement and tough love, mostly using the tone of a friend, but being clear that what he was doing wasn't right.  I told him that he had to apologize to his mother; mean it, and then ask for forgiveness from God, and work toward walking on the right path.  To my surprise, he immediately got down on his knees and (sobbing), crawled to a woman and began soaking her feet with his tears and his apologies.  I hadn't realized it, but his mother was in the room the entire time.

The end result was a simple promise between mother and son.  His mother I immediately gauged as a woman who had had enough, and I wanted Paul to pledge to honor and respect his mother, even when he didn't agree, and to attempt to give up drinking in excess in favor of the Christian lifestyle he so fervently assured us he wanted to lead.  For his mother, all I asked was grace.  Grace to understand that Paul was going screw up again, and be there to correct him when he did so.  I have no idea the final result of that afternoon.  For all I know, things could have reverted back to the way they were as soon as I left the house.  But, for the brief moment, the words I found that afternoon brought reconciliation to a situation I thought could not be reconciled, and for that, I have to thank God.

After leaving Moshi, Tanzania, we went to Dar Es Salaam, and then on to Zanzibar.  It was our opportunity to enjoy some R&R before proceeding to our final month on the World Race.  Below are some pictures of Tanzania.