Travel log: A trip to the Kisi and Manda language areas

Day 1 (Monday)

It was still dark outside as I forced myself out of my cosy bed just after 5am. My rucksack was packed and ready to go – it will feel considerably lighter by the time I return from my trip as half the weight is made up of granola bars I made for two weeks’ worth of breakfasts, plus the carrots and oranges I included to supplement my diet while away; and there’s the solar-powered audio players that we’ll be distributing at the workshops. Today is the first day of what will be a nearly-two-week trip to the Kisi and Manda language areas.

My colleagues (Claudia and Stanslaus) and I boarded the small bus. We left at 5.50am, and as we left the city behind us the sky started to turn red as the sun rose. I sat next to Claudia, one of my colleagues. She’d only just come back from doing the same bus ride a couple of days ago, as her father had suddenly been arrested for reasons that seem unfounded and appear to be caused by jealousy of certain family members and mixed in with witchcraft, and she’d gone with a lawyer to seek his release. Sadly family conflicts and witchcraft are not uncommon issues here.

We arrived in Njombe by 11.30am, which is a big regional town, and the end of a consistent tarmac road. I was glad for the chance to stretch my legs before getting back on for the next leg, which went quicker than any of us expected – the bus driver didn’t hang about! Last time I went that way, the road was being worked on but was still a dirt road, but this time significant sections had been turned into a cement surface. It’s a massive job, as the road winds up and down mountains, with sharp bends and sections of mountain blasted away to allow the road to pass. The dust gets up your nose and in your eyes, so it will be wonderful when the road is completed and vehicles no longer kick up clouds of dust. 

We arrived in Ludewa at 4pm. My first time here. It’s a small town, but the main supply centre for a large area. I enjoyed a walk around the outskirts, along bright red dirt roads between houses and wide tarmac roads in the town centre, with views to the surrounding hills. A football match was taking place on a central football field and the air turned chill as I headed back to the guesthouse in the golden evening light. The guesthouse is clean and pleasant, except for the loud music coming from somewhere nearby, and costs a mere 10,000 Tanzanian shillings (just over £3) a night. We went to a local café for dinner, where we had rice (which had a hint of cardamom in it, which was a delicious surprise), with roasted beef (don’t think of a joint of beef sliced, rather think of chunks of meat that have probably been deep fried) and greens, peas in a sauce and a banana. The food is more expensive here than in Mbeya (but even so, it only cost about £1).

Back at the guesthouse I asked for some hot water to have a wash, which was promptly brought to my room in a bucket. Then I curled up in bed and settled down to checking my emails and writing my journal.

Day 2 (Tuesday)

By 8am we had arrived at the immigration office to make them aware that I (as a non-Tanzanian) was working in the area for a few days, so that we wouldn’t have any problems during our travels. As we arrived, the guard was sticking up posters requesting that anyone who entered should wear a face mask and wash their hands. We did neither, but then neither did the officials we had come to see, who eventually turned up about 45 minutes later. They were friendly and polite, taking our details and requesting a copy of the relevant pages of my passport. But they didn’t have a photocopier, so my colleague quickly walked back to town to find a stationery shop to get this done!

Back at the guesthouse the car that would take us over the mountain road to the

lake was waiting for us – a small 4WD. On our way out, we got a container filled with fuel for the boat that we’d be renting. The road twisted and turned, up and down the hills, with some stunning glimpses of mountains and Lake Nyasa. Less than two hours later we arrived at Lupingu, where the boat and its crew were waiting for us. We clambered aboard (after some hasty application of suntan lotion when we saw the boat had no covering to create some shade) and headed off, put-putting our way parallel with the shore, stopping at a couple of villages to drop off letters we’d been asked to deliver. When I say ‘stopping’ we didn’t moor the boat at a pier, but instead called out to whoever was around to come and get the letters. The first time it was some school children – after ascertaining that they knew the person the letters were intended for, one of them waded out and took the letters and headed off with them. The second time a fisherman passing by in his boat (a kind of dugout canoe, rowed with a single paddle) was collared for the task. A unique postal system! It’s pretty difficult to get news to the villages in any other way than by boat, as mobile phone coverage is limited and the mountain paths are steep and can mostly only be traversed by foot (though motorbikes can get to some places).

The lake was fairly calm, but I’d taken travel sickness pills just to be on the safe side, and the boat ride was shorter than I’d expected, being only about an hour and a half. If we’d been on a public boat, it would have taken a lot longer, as it would have stopped at each village for passengers. The crew consisted of four young men (though one may have just been getting a lift), one of whom steered, another sporadically bailed water out and another was ready to throw the anchor out as needed. When we arrived we gingerly stepped out of the boat onto the rocky ground and waded to the shore.

We headed to the guest house, where I was shown to a small, simple room. We left our bags and headed to another place for lunch. Food is much more expensive here than Mbeya, because of the high transportation costs. We were served ugali, fish (kambare), greens and avocado, which was all very tasty.  The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering around the village, visiting the homes of various key people and sitting and chatting with them for a while. I found this draining, as most of the time I couldn’t follow the conversation (either because they were speaking in Kisi or because I didn’t have enough of the context to understand what they were discussing) so I just sat, feeling drowsy. Points of interest included visiting the Anglican church where we would hold the workshop, visiting the diwani (local councillor) and watching him mend his nets and visiting and eating oranges (which are green) freshly picked off a tree that I was sitting under. It was sad to see the fairly large group of people drinking locally brewed beer in the late afternoon – unfortunately this is a real problem in many places I have been to, though it was more public here. After our wanderings, I went off on my own down to the beach to enjoy watching the big red ball of sun sink below the horizon. Now I’m back in my room, having crunched away on some carrots and peanut butter and homemade oatcakes for tea, and a banana. The house has solar power, so my room is lit, albeit a little dimly, but there’s no sockets for charging devices. I’m very thankful for a power bank I have for when I travel that will charge my phone at least twice.

Day 3 (Wednesday)

I often think of village life as quiet and peaceful. But it only takes one night in a village to remind me that this is not the case. I was woken early by roosters crowing (it’s a myth that they don’t crow until dawn) and hens clucking and not long after people getting up before sunrise to get going with the day’s activities. I didn’t feel very rested. Yesterday, the pastor of the Anglican church (where we would hold the workshop) had expressed that he wasn’t happy that I would sleep in a guest house, instead they wanted me to have the guest room at their home. I was touched by their kindness and as I write this I am in that room, comforted by the sound of the family in the living room.

I was surprised to see how promptly many of the workshop participants turned up, which was testimony to what the translators had told me about how keen people were. Breakfast had been prepared for them at a nearby guest house. The workshop participants obviously liked their language and wanted to learn how to read, which was the main focus of today. A good number could already read remarkably well. Lunch was rice or ugali, greens and fish. Interestingly, they had prepared two different kinds of fish, as the main kind can’t be eaten by Seventh Day Adventists (who follow Old Testament food laws), and we had a number of them in the workshop. My two colleagues did most of the teaching.

In the early evening, Claudia came down to the lakeshore with me, to a spot where it’s appropriate for woman to bathe in the water, and I enjoyed a swim (though it was a little tricky swimming in trousers as it wouldn’t have been appropriate for me to strip down to a swimming costume), though Claudia didn’t join me! The lake is truly beautiful in the evening sun and the sunsets are stunning, and I enjoyed a little walk around, ending up at the lake just as the sun was once again a red ball sinking in the sky. I’m starting to get a sense for how to find my way along the myriad of little stony paths that weave between houses and trees on the hillside.

After I’d finished eating in my room, the pastor’s wife invited me to come and eat with them. I politely refused, but did go and join them to watch the news (their house is well set up with solar), though I find the news hard to understand as the Swahili is more complicated than I am used to and it is quite fast. Mind you, we spent less time watching the news and more time just chatting, which was lovely. I headed to bed early, knowing I would be woken early by some noise or other!

Day 4 (Thursday)

Sure enough, at 6am some kind of church bell was rung (I don’t think they have an actual bell, but there was definitely the sound of metal striking metal), and I was already half-awake before that, probably disturbed once again by the sound of hens and the family stirring. Then there was the school drum being beaten not much later to call children to school.

At the workshop I was pleased to see how my colleagues led the Bible study groups and generally worked together well as a team. Today was my day to do most of the teaching – I am always aware that I am only able to scratch the surface when it comes to how we seek to understand Scripture. For example, how does one explain in just a few minutes the difference between the Old and New Testaments, when you realise that most of them have no idea what the difference is? The best that any participant could suggest is that the Old Testament is when God spoke through the prophets and the New Testament is about Jesus. And then how do you explain how knowing whether the book of the Bible you are reading is in the Old or New Testament impacts how you read and interpret it? The reality is, I end up just giving them some pointers, but probably not leaving them with much of any value. I’d need several weeks to teach these matters in depth. What I do hope is that our time together shows just how much more there is to learn about God’s Word and to motivate them to become regular readers and listeners of His Word and people who take the time to meditate on it.

It was hot in the morning, so I struggled to stay focused as I taught and the participants struggled to stay awake! Lunch was rice, beans and fish. As I can’t eat beans, they’d prepared me some sauce – unfortunately they didn’t realise that I also can’t have onions, so I left most of the sauce, which was too salty for me anyhow, and tried to avoid getting fish bones stuck in my throat as today’s fish had very fine bones. Thankfully the afternoon was cooler, with more cloud cover and a good breeze.

After doing a few bits and bobs, I headed down to the lake again for a swim, finding Claudia by the football field; she sat on the rocks while I enjoyed a good splash. And today was a real splash as the wind had picked up and the water was choppy, it felt more like the sea than a lake, with proper rollers coming in. Mind you, the lake is so big that is really like a small sea, with the hills of Malawi on the far side of the lake only faintly visible. The wind had brought in the lake flies, so when I was chatting with my host family later I could see these little things everywhere - they were somewhat irritating. Apparently, during the rainy season, when they come in clouds, people catch them and make food from them! You’d have to catch thousands of the things to make anything worth eating as they are tiny.

While down by the lake I could see cassava lying out to dry. Cassava is the main crop here, as the soil is very clay-like and not good for many crops as well as the fact that the Kisi villages are on the slopes of the mountains that fall into the lake, making farming difficult. Many people eat ugali made from fermented cassava. It seems like they soak the cassava for  a day or two (depending on how warm it is), before pounding it to flour and cooking. (Ugali is made from cooking the flour with water until it thickens and forms a solid lump that you can mould with your hands.) I haven’t tasted cassava ugali, but I’m told that for people who aren’t used to it, it can be hard to tolerate.

Day 5 (Friday)

Today we encountered a problem with providing water for the workshop participants – there were only half a dozen or so bottles left in the little village shops! We already had budget problems as water costs 1.5 times as much here as it does in Mbeya, so this extra problem was particularly frustrating. I am learning just how hard life can be here in the Kisi area where transport options are so limited – this affects not only the availability and price of food, but also affects access to health services. Claudia told me about how her grandmother died in childbirth because she couldn’t be transported quickly enough to a clinic with facilities for operating. In days gone by a sick person would be transported by dugout canoe, taking hours to get to a village with road access from where they could begin the hairy drive up the hill to a town with a hospital. At least these days there are petrol powered boats that can do the journey more quickly, but they are expensive to run.

Lunch was rice or ugali with what I think was beef, or at least, bits of material that came from a cow! It was tender and full of flavour, but I’d rather not think about what ‘bits’ they were! Nothing fresh to accompany it, no vegetables or fruit of any description. It’s the fresh things that are hardest to come by here. There’s a few orange trees around, and I can see a papaya tree from my window. There’s lots of mango trees, but the mango season is quite short. Some people have created small gardens for growing greens, surrounded by netting to protect them from the many chickens roaming around.

It rained! We weren’t expecting that. It’s very unusual to get rain in the middle of dry season, but the lake seems to have its own unpredictable climate. Tomorrow the plan is for me to leave as early as possible by boat, because the lake is usually at its calmest first thing in the morning.

I decided to try going up the hill a bit, so a child showed me the start of the path and up I climbed – going up was hard but coming down was worse, because the dry soil, filled with lots of little stones, was so slippy and the path was steep. I didn’t go far at all, but it was enough to get a birds-eye view of Makonde, which was fun. I was sweating and my legs were trembling by the time I got back down and a dip in the lake felt like a wonderful idea. The pastor’s wife decided to come down with me and she sat on the rocks, somewhat surprised that I wasn’t afraid of the waves. A little later Claudia came too, to check on her laundry that she had done earlier in the lake and left on the rocks to dry, and another lady, and it was lovely to just sit by the lake as the sun went down chatting with these ladies. The sunset was beautiful, with the gold of the skies reflecting on the choppy waters so that each wave had a golden edge and the mountains looking soft and faintly pink in the background.

Day 6 (Saturday)

The one day when I could have slept in as there was no church bell or school drum was the one morning I needed to be up early! I left the house before the rest of the family had really stirred and headed down to the lake. We were supposed to leave at 7am but the young guys who would be manning the boat were nowhere to be seen. The lake was choppy, despite being early morning, and I took another travel sickness pill to be on the safe side and tried not to get anxious about the trip ahead and whether my luggage would stay dry. Some men were butchering a pig they had just killed – I wasn’t expecting to see a pig’s head sitting on a beach first thing in the morning! About half an hour later we were

ready to go and with help I scrambled aboard the boat between waves. It was a very different experience from our outward journey (when the lake had been calm), with the boat going up and down in a somewhat alarming fashion. Thankfully it calmed down further into the ride and there was the same car and driver waiting for me on the beach that had brought us there a few days before.

Back up the winding mountain road and suddenly my phone got a signal and in poured several days’ worth of messages! Arriving in Ludewa, my Manda colleagues were waiting for me. I made a quick trip to the market to restock on carrots, bananas, satsumas and a cucumber, before settling down for the four hour bus ride to Nsungu in the Manda language area. Not the most comfortable of rides (with small seats and sacks of something under our feet), but I was drowsy so I dozed for some of it and listened to an audio book for the rest of it and somehow got off at the other end without a bad back or too desperate for the toilet. And wow, what a contrast to the Kisi area. Instead of a rocky beach and steep hills, there is a big sandy beach and the surrounding area is pretty flat. It really feels like being at the seaside. We’re staying in a guesthouse right by the beach and it has electricity. The water isn’t working so they brought us buckets of lake water to use; I was startled by a white frog in the bathroom!

I’d heard there were crocodiles here and that I wouldn’t be able to swim, but on asking a lady at the guest house I learned that as long as you go during the day time it is safe enough; it’s from dusk to dawn that it’s dangerous. As the waves were pretty big today, I decided to leave it until tomorrow to test the waters. Went with my colleagues to visit the pastor of the Anglican church where we will hold the workshop, which is on a little hill about a five minute walk from the guest house. Everywhere we went my colleagues were greeting relatives and friends and pointing things out to me, including a tamarind tree and the big baobab trees.

Day 7 (Sunday)

The lake had calmed down so I went for a swim – it was wonderful! I went to the morning service at the Anglican church. Anglican churches in this region are all high church – there was a lot of liturgy and sitting and standing and kneeling and me not knowing what I was supposed to do but just copying the person next to me. To be honest, I understood very little of what went on in the service, as the liturgy was hard to follow and the preacher spoke super-fast, but I did appreciate the various Scripture readings and I had a chance to share briefly about our work. After the service I was invited to the pastor’s home for chai, and enjoyed a pleasant chat with him and his wife. His wife had prepared some boiled eggs and a thermos of tea. I left with the last two eggs wrapped in an envelope with a pinch of salt for me to enjoy later. I decided to head straight from there to a café to get lunch, just some ugali and greens as I’d already had a good lot of protein with the eggs.

After lunch I had some quiet time in my room, reading the Bible, praying, resting and listening to some Bible teaching I’d downloaded before the trip. After all that sitting I was ready to stretch my legs, so for the first time in a week I got out for a good walk along a dirt road, enjoying the scenery and the small villages I passed through. A special treat was coming across a small group of people doing traditional dancing, with two drummers in the middle, singing songs about Tanzania – one man with them recognised me from church and said he would be at the seminar tomorrow, so that made me feel safe and gave me the courage to ask if I could take photos. I think they enjoyed performing for me!

Day 8 (Monday)

Day one of the workshop. It felt quite different working with Erasto and Faraja, compared to working with Claudia and Stanslaus last week. C and S are both openly enthusiastic and used their language most of the time and were very open with me and fun to work with, referring various decisions to me and doing a good team-job of teaching. E and F are a bit more serious, with E taking the lead (as the older man and also a pastor) and coming across confidently but I often needed to prompt him about ways to teach. On the whole I think the first day went well with people doing a really good job of reading the Manda language, even though some of them weren’t Manda! A couple of the pastors particularly enjoyed the first thing I had done while people were still turning up, which was to give them pictures of key biblical events, get them to put them in order, and then I told the whole story of the Bible briefly, tying all the events together and showing how they were fulfilled in Christ.

Guess what I had for lunch? Yes, fish! I feel like my hands have smelt of fish for most of the time I’ve been here! You need to do some serious hand washing with soap to get rid of the smell!

After the workshop, I was taken to see a Manda class in action. A local pastor, even though he’s not Manda, was concerned to see the Manda language not being valued by the community or used by children, and so he recruited a couple of ladies to start Manda classes for the children, starting with his own children. He related how it was hard work at first, people thought he had a hidden agenda or mocked the idea as they don’t see the value of their language, but over time the number of children grew, drawn by the games, drums and dancing, and parents (at least some) have become more accepting. Around thirty children did a long dance to the beat of a big drum, their steps following the commands (in Manda) of different children and then some children said all the parts of the body in Manda and others counted to twenty in Manda. Tomorrow the pastor wants to take me to another village, some distance away, to see another class.

I had just enough time left to go for a short sunset walk and enjoy yet another glorious sky. Oh Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the works thy hands hath made!

Day 9 (Tuesday)

Perfect morning for swimming, so I did, in the calm lake under a blue sky. The workshop seemed to go well, though as it was a much warmer day than yesterday people were sleepy. At the end of the day we chose five people to prepare to lead a Bible study tomorrow, so we’ll see how they do.

The pastor who started the Manda class wanted to take me to visit another class in a village a few miles away (one of the teachers is in our workshop), so one of the Manda teachers from Nsungu (the village we are holding the workshop in) and I climbed on the back of one motorbike and the pastor on another and off we went. I laughed to myself over the surprised faces of people we passed when they saw a white person on the back of a motorbike! When we arrived a group of young children were gathered (the older ones having been given the work of cutting reeds by their school teacher, so they couldn’t come) and they showed us things they had learnt. The teacher said how hard it had been at first, with people saying unkind words about it and taking their children away. It’s still hard, but more accepted now than it was.

We came back by foot, a walk of over five miles! As we went they pointed out landmarks, explained which areas are flooded during the rainy season, told me where the crocodiles are, shared some old traditions that are being lost (including respect for elders such that in days gone by they would be given fish for free and children were expected to greet them and carry whatever the elder was carrying, and if they didn’t they would be punished) and related how the lake has receded over the years and how the cutting of trees is causing erosion by the rivers. As we walked the sunset and sky was magnificent, with trees of all kinds silhouetted against the various shades of red and orange, and by the end we were walking by light of the moon with our moon shadows keeping step.

Back at the pastor’s home he briefly showed me a small project of his – he is breeding rabbits and guinea pigs for food! This is the first time I have seen guinea pigs in Tanzania, but he said that breeding them is common practice amongst the Pangwa people (a people group that neighbours the Manda area, but is up in the mountains, and he himself is Pangwa).

Day 10 (Wednesday)

I am writing this by the light of the bathroom light! A weird quirk of the room I’m in is that if my colleague in the next-door room and I both have our lights on at the same time they flash in a horrible headache-inducing kind of way. I can hear a mosquito’s high pitched buzz, but I can’t see it – there’s quite a lot of mozzies around, but the bed has a decent mosquito net so I haven’t been bothered by them at night. It probably doesn’t help that none of the windows shut properly and I can see the sky through gaps between the window frame and the wall.

Last day of the workshop. I think it went as well as can be expected. The questions is always whether they will put it into practice. I am particularly conscious of the fact that the Manda only have one book in their language so far – Jonah; they don’t even have any short story books, so people will soon get tired of reading and re-reading the same book. Also here in Nsungu children are not using the Manda language, so there may be less motivation for what we are doing, though I think in other areas their language is used more. The participants certainly seemed to have appreciated the workshop and saw the benefit of studying God’s Word through questions that help people to think about and apply it to their daily lives.

One dear older lady (she is the one in a light orange dress in the picture) gave me a bag of peanuts, saying that although my mother is in England, wherever I go there is a mother. I was so touched by her kindness. She had shelled the peanuts for me as she thought I would find it hard, and it’s true, I’ve done it before but if you’re not used to it, it’s slow work and after a while you thumbs feel sore!

I don’t think I’ve mentioned the pigs – they’re all over the place, grunting away, left to roam around to find food during the day. And the chickens likewise. And then there’s the odd goat here and there or cow.

Tomorrow it will be an early start and a long journey – I need to be heading out about 5am and Erasto is willing to get up at the same hour to accompany me to the bus stand, even though he is staying on for a while longer with Faraja to test the gospel of Luke with various Manda speakers.

Day 11 (Thursday)

I was up about 4.30am after a restless night. The bus was sitting in the layby and a lady sat next to it waiting. No other sign of life in the darkness. A couple more people arrived and then there was the faint glow of a phone inside the bus. The conductor had slept inside the bus and was finally stirring. We set of about 5.30am. This bus would take me all the way to Makambako, stopping for a while (20-30 minutes) in Ludewa and Njombe and arriving in Makambako shortly after 2.30pm. In Njombe I was able to stretch my legs by a quick walk to the toilets and then to the food stands to buy a bag of chips for lunch.

The last leg of the journey from Makambako to Mbeya was not less comfortable. I had to change in Makambako, and the conductor helped me get onto a bus heading for Mbeya. I appreciated his kindness and his concern that I would be overcharged if I let the hawkers at the bus door find me a bus – he took my bag and made took my money to pay for a ticket. Later I discovered that he may not have been as altruistic as he appeared, as when I was finally given my bus ticket it said 4000/- rather than the 5000/- that I had given him!

It was one of those small buses where they use every inch of space, so down the central aisle were fold-down seats for extra passengers. The bus was full, so it was a squeeze. The ride from Makambako to Mbeya should be no more than 3.5 hours, but it took us 4.5 hours due to stopping several times for passengers to get off and on; my back ached, my feet were swollen, the bus was warm and I was dehydrated (I generally don’t drink much on journeys because you never know if and when you will get a toilet stop), but eventually we arrived on the outskirts of Mbeya. I thought the bus would go all the way to the main bus stand in town, but when it arrived at the big out-of-town bus stand most people alighted and the driver decided not to carry on, so those of us who were left were put on another small bus, which also decided not to go to the main bus stand! However, I was able to get off at a bus stop not far from home, and at 7.15pm Lizzie (one of my housemates) was waiting there to pick me up (just a five minute drive from home). It felt strange to be speaking English again after eleven days of no English conversation and not seeing another white face!

Back home

It’s Friday and I’ve taken the day off work. I feel slightly disconnected – it feels unreal to be back in my home after being in such a different environment for over ten days. I slept long and well but still feel tired.

I hadn’t been desperate to return to Mbeya. I had enjoyed my trip. God had been wonderfully faithful as always – I had felt well taken care of, my stomach hadn’t been much of a problem, I’d been able to get some exercise and had got on fine with my colleagues. The workshops seemed to go well, though we wait to see what fruit they may bear. I’d enjoyed some beautiful and varied scenery as well as swimming in the lake and learning about Kisi and Manda life. All in all it was a good trip and I look forward to more adventures and thank God that He is always there enabling me to do things I think I can’t do.