From cramped buses to fabulous vistas - visiting the Pangwa language area

The darkness was just beginning to lift as I left home at 5.30am to head to the bus stand. Despite the equator running through nearby Kenya, Tanzania’s neighbour to the north, it’s far enough away to create a noticeable difference to daylight hours. When I have the same early start in the middle of the year it is still pitch black, not beginning to grey until nearly an hour later. It doesn’t make the early start any easier though! I dozed on and off for the first couple of hours of the bus journey before settling down with a good book to read on my phone. We arrived at Makambako nearly 4 hours later, where we were allowed a ten minute food and toilet break. I wandered around the bus stand to stretch my legs before coming to wait near our bus so that I’d be ready to hop back on as soon as our time was up. I enjoyed watching the food vendors, with bowls of snacks (such as packets of crisps, banana chips and biscuits) or fruit balanced on their heads or carrying buckets of finger foods (such as hard boiled eggs, bajia and mandazi), as they touted their wares to travellers leaning out the bus windows – a colourful, bustling scene.

Less than an hour and a half later we arrived at Njombe’s big out-of-town bus stand, where I expected to meet up with my colleagues and find another bus for the next leg of the journey. Bernard saw me as soon as I got off the bus – a welcoming, smiling face amidst all the strangers milling around. Bernard is one of the translators working on translating the New Testament into the Pangwa language, and we were on our way to hold a workshop in the small town of Mlangali in the Pangwa language area. His family live in Makambako, so he had spent the weekend there before coming to meet me at Njombe. A third colleague, Frank, was also on his way. Frank is in the literacy/Scripture engagement team with me, and he is particularly involved in supervising literacy/SE work in the Pangwa language area. He and Bernard together would be leading the literacy elements of the workshop (i.e. equipping participants to read their language and be able to teach others to do the same) while I would be facilitating the times of Bible study and teaching on Paul’s letter to Titus, for which we’d be using the Pangwa and Swahili Scriptures side-by-side. The Pangwa New Testament translation is nearly complete and should be ready for launching in a couple of years’ time, so the goal of the workshop was to build on what we’ve already done in the Pangwa language area over many years, by strengthening the ability of a select number of individuals from across the Pangwa language community to be confident readers of their language and able to prepare people with the literacy skills needed to read the New Testament when it arrives. They would also be given solar powered audio devices loaded with Pangwa Scriptures to use at home and in church ministry. We hope that the workshop participants will become strong advocates for using the Pangwa Scriptures and able to help facilitate their distribution.

Bernard had already reserved seats for us on a small bus that would shortly be leaving for Mlangali. With five people squeezed into the four seats on each row, there was no room to do more than wiggle your toes. Halfway into the journey I began to struggle with a desperate need to move my legs, which was virtually impossible! I had my laptop bag filling the space between my legs, a mother with a child on her knee filling up more than her share of the seat on one side, and a lady with two big bags on her lap and a 5-litre tub of oil jammed between her feet and mine on my other side. We finally arrived in Mlangali at about 3.30pm. A motorbike took our luggage to the guesthouse while we followed on foot.

Beautiful views around Mlangali

After washing my face, tidying up my tousled hair, putting my feet up, drinking a lot of water and taking some time to pray, I felt more myself, and set out for a walk. Mlangali is in the hills, at about the same altitude as Mbeya, and the surrounding landscape is beautiful. As I walked along the bright red dirt road, my eyes soaked it all up: rolling hills, tall eucalyptus trees providing shade along the path, reeds waving around some wetland, clay brick kilns, carefully stacked planks of wood and open views. I returned to Mlangali to find Bernard walking slowly along the road with one of the workshop participants who had arrived early. We strolled together towards the Anglican church where the workshop would be held, met with the pastor there, and looked around to see how things could be set up. The pastor told us about how he feeds and teaches 200 children every weekend as part of a Compassion programme – he clearly has a real heart for children.

Views on walk around Mlangali

On the way back to the guesthouse we stopped for dinner at a creatively decorated café. I ordered rice, greens and fried beef. The greens were one of my favourite varieties – pumpkin leaves, cooked with ground peanuts. The rice was also very tasty – it was yellow, presumably from the use of turmeric, and flavoured with cardamon, which I have never encountered before in Tanzania, usually it’s just plain white rice. Despite Tanzania being a land rich in agriculture and spices being easily available, food usually lacks any seasoning other than salt. Ginger may be added to some dishes, but that’s about it, though sometimes a plate of chillis is provided to add some heat for those who want it. There were two Chinese men in the restaurant, which came as something of a surprise in this fairly remote town. I found out later that the Chinese are involved in some local factories; it seems they have a finger in many pies in Tanzania.

On Tuesday I woke to a beautiful, blue-skied morning, making the red roads look even redder on my short morning walk. About 25 people turned up for the workshop, out of the 35 or so who had been invited. Other than getting a bit behind schedule, the day seemed to go well and there generally seemed to be a good atmosphere in the group. While Frank dealt with people’s travel fares and food allowances at the end of the day, I was able to help a few people get the Pangwa Bible app on their phones and also got to enjoy listening to one of the church’s five choirs sing the song they were practising for Sunday’s service.

Frank helping participants develop their Pangwa literacy skills

After dumping my bag back at the guesthouse, I met up with one of the participants so that he could show me the way to the Catholic church on the hill – its tower is quite a landmark, visible for some distance and standing separate from the church, and I hoped to get some good views of the area. My companion was able to explain what I could see and map out the boundaries of the region. As we walked back, the sun had already set behind the hills and the sky was painted in soft shades of orange and pink, with streaks of blue and yellow. Breathtaking. Back in the town my companion insisted I greet almost everyone we met to showcase my very limited (about three words) of Pangwa! It turned out that my Pangwa was purer than that of some of the people we spoke to as because Mlangali is a town on a significant road there are many non-Pangwa people there and the local Pangwa has become mixed with other neighbouring languages and with Swahili.

The next day, I left my key with the guesthouse manager* so that my room could be cleaned, before heading off to the workshop. (*I’m not sure if ‘manager’ is the right word to use – this person usually lives in and looks after the guesthouse on behalf of the owner. In Swahili we call them the mhudumu, which literally means service-giver and can also be applied to other service-givers such as a waitress in a café.) I led the first session in which we continued our studies in Titus, and then Frank and Bernard took over to focus on reading and writing Pangwa. At lunchtime I decided to return to my room to eat (I had my usual rice cakes, peanut butter, carrots, cucumber and fruit with me for one light meal a day), so I made the just-under-ten-minute walk to the guesthouse only to find that the manager was nowhere to be found so I couldn’t get into my room. Often a phone number is pinned up somewhere to contact the manager, so before allowing myself to get into a fluster I looked around and, sure enough, two phone numbers were written with a black marker pen onto the door of the guesthouse. Thankfully the manager picked up the phone! She told me that she’d gone out to get food but that she’d left my key in a small bag hanging behind a curtain in reception. With relief, I retrieved my key and had lunch.

We finished the day promptly at 4pm, as the church has a service at that time on a Wednesday, but then I was spontaneously invited to speak at said service! I tried to persuade someone else to do it, so that they could teach in Pangwa, but he pointed out that not everyone in the congregation would be Pangwa. Having therefore failed to find a good excuse to not teach, I took a few moments on a bench outside to try and compose my thoughts, before joining the service and engaging them in a study on the temptation of Jesus. I chose this story as an opportunity to emphasise the importance of knowing God's Word and teaching it to our children, so that it can help us to stand firm in the faith. One lady was so touched by the study that she gave me some money to buy myself some food!

Selling Pangwa books to people after the service

We were invited to the pastor’s house for dinner in the evening. I took him a couple of small pineapples I’d found in one of the many small shops lining the sides of the road, as it is normal to take a gift of food when visiting someone’s home. Neither Bernard nor Frank had thought to do that, so maybe the gift-giving doesn’t apply when you are away from home. I enjoyed a good pile of boiled potatoes, which isn’t something you’d find in a café where the options are usually just rice or ugali. It was a good taste of home, as I grew up eating potatoes almost every day. Viazi viringo (round potatoes, as opposed to viazi vitamu – sweet potatoes) thrive in the highlands of Tanzania, if the soil is right. Despite this they wouldn’t be considered a staple here; they are more often eaten for breakfast (boiled) or served as chips, which are just considered a snack. As well as potatoes, there was rice, greens and chicken, all thoughtfully prepared without the addition of onion for my sake. I was asked to pray a blessing on the home before we left, but as my Swahili was starting to get a bit jumbled, which happens if I’m tired or talking about topics where I have limited Swahili vocabulary, I prayed in English. However, by halfway through I wished I’d used Swahili – there’s something about being surrounded by Tanzanians and using Swahili all day that just makes it feel awkward using English!

In the middle of the night I was startled awake by a loud rumble and my bed shaking. In the morning an alert on my phone told me there had been an earthquake, with the epicentre being about 14 miles away. More loud rumbles woke me too early in the morning, this time lorries. Daylight soon came and I set off for a brisk walk, exploring new roads and enjoying the slight chill in the air due to the cloudy skies. Any children I passed were keen to greet me, with some making the surprisingly common mistake of calling me Mchina (Chinese)! This seems to result from the fact that the lighter-skinned people they most commonly see are Chinese, and so they assume that I am too, even though to my eyes there isn’t even the faintest resemblance. However, to children who rarely see someone who isn’t Tanzanian, we obviously look somewhat similar.

Participants practise reading in Pangwa

The third day of the workshop went well, with participants showing a noticeable improvement in their reading ability. After we’d finished, one of the participants (a pastor in his fifties) volunteered to accompany me to the top of a hill with a phone tower on its summit, meaning it must be one of the highest points in the area. We took a motorbike to the foot of the narrow path we would climb, with both of us perched behind the driver as he sped along the rough dirt road, expertly finding the smoothest sections to ride on. It was a good climb up to the phone tower, with the path sometimes winding up through trees, sometimes skirting round small plots of land being prepared for planting crops and other times weaving through scrub. There was also the chance to do a bit of scrumping – we passed both a peach tree and a plum tree and enjoyed their fruit! You can’t normally get plums in Mbeya, and if you do they’ve come from this region, as the altitude provides the right climate for them to grow.

In just under half an hour of brisk walking we had made it to the top, 6706 feet (about 2043 metres) above sea level, while Mlangali is at about 5770 feet (1758 metres). It was definitely worth it. In one direction I could see the familiar outline of the mountains that skirt round the edge of the Kisi language area, while in other directions layer after layer of hills faded into the distance into the Nyakyusa, Kinga and Bena language areas – all places that I have visited as we have been involved in Bible translation in all of these languages. As we skipped back down the trail, the hills looked ever more beautiful as they became silhouetted against the soft sunset sky. We walked all the way back to Mlangali, with the pastor accompanying me to the gate of the guesthouse as it was already dark.

Looking across to the hills of the Kisi language area

The last day of the workshop included a repeat of a little reading test we gave them on the first day, to see if there was any improvement in fluency and speed. A quick scan of the results showed that there was, with most people making less mistakes and reading faster. For some of them a lot of practice is still needed, but the improvement was encouraging. Other highlights of the last day included watching them study and discuss the Scriptures in Pangwa, the beautiful songs they composed based on verses from Titus and the joy one lady expressed over the unity in the workshop between church denominations that wouldn’t usually come together. We finished with the obligatory group photo before everyone started for home, some on foot, some on motorbikes and some (after a long wait) on buses.

Engaging in group Bible studies on Titus 3 in Pangwa

Frank and I went to say goodbye to the pastor of the church we’d used, which was Anglican, and he once again invited us for dinner. This time Frank and Bernard had plans to watch a football match on TV (a Tanzanian team versus a Moroccan team) as they are both big football fans (as are most of my male Tanzanian colleagues), so we declined the invitation. It turned out that one of the reasons the pastor had invited us was because a little girl that he is caring for wanted to see me again! So we passed by his house as we left and took a photo together, for which she’d obviously been and put on one of her favourite dresses.

After sorting out various things, like securing seats near the front of the bus we’d take the next day (not by buying a ticket, as we wouldn’t be able to do that until we were on the bus, but just by a verbal agreement with someone), arranging to meet Frank at the bus stop at 5.45am and dealing with some work issues, I went for a short evening walk before it got dark. Once again I soaked up the beauty all around me and told myself not to get annoyed when children pretended to speak Chinese with me. Instead, I befriended them, explained that I was English, talked to them in Swahili and then let them walk alongside me, pretending that they were my guards and helping me find the way back to the main road. They wanted money at the end, but I just told them I didn’t have any (as I’d conveniently forgotten the note in my pocket that I’d put there to buy myself a bottle of water) and instead we solemnly shook hands and said our goodbyes.

On Saturday morning I met Frank at the appointed time and place – it was a good job we were there early as the bus we’d been told we’d take wasn’t running and instead we were put on a different one that left earlier! I got a seat right near the front next to the pile of luggage stacked up behind the driver. As we drove, the luggage shifted so that I was pinned firmly into my corner, but it was better than being squeezed between lots of people as at least I didn’t have to worry about treading on someone’s foot or prodding someone as I squirmed around to get comfortable! In Njombe, Frank and I went our separate ways (he was meeting someone), though first he made sure I’d got a seat on a bus going to Mbeya. We left just before 9am but the journey took somewhat longer than I anticipated. I gradually got more uncomfortable as it heated up and at some point I also started to need the toilet, knowing full well I wouldn’t be able to get to one for a couple of hours. I eventually made it home at 4.45pm, having switched buses a couple more times on the way into Mbeya town, and had multiple waits at bus stops dragging the ride out even longer. My recovery strategy was to drink lots of water, have a coffee (I’d not had one all week), have a cold shower and get some exercise by walking to the market to stock up on fresh food. The house felt quiet and lonely, as my housemate is in the UK. Although it’s good to be home, I’ll miss all the people interaction and opportunities for different walks and experiences. It always feels like a privilege to work in such beautiful places, but I confess that I selfishly chose the Pangwa language area over the Bungu language area, where other colleagues had gone to conduct the same workshop. I chose the cool of the hills, while they suffered heat and mosquitoes. I thank God for their willingness to go where I did not want to go! May God bless the work of all of our hands, using these workshops to help the Pangwa and Bungu communities read and meditate on the Scriptures in their languages.

Visiting Katavi - long bus rides, heat, beautiful skies and the joy of teaching

Monday 8th September

At 4.40am my alarm rudely interrupted my sleep, jolting me into wakefulness to catch the 5.30am bus to Mpanda. Mpanda is the main town of the Katavi region, in the west of Tanzania, and it is where one of our regional offices is located. The team there are working with several different language communities and I was going to help them do workshops in two of them, Bende and Pimbwe, which would aim to encourage the distribution and use of some Scriptures recently printed in those languages.

The journey is marked in green, from Mbeya in the south to Mpanda further north-west.
Map source: commons.wikimedia.org

The only problem is that Mpanda is a day’s bus journey away, and then getting to the language areas concerned includes yet more travel. I was not looking forward to the journey! It didn’t get off to a very good start when half an hour into the ride our bus knocked the side mirror of a smaller bus, which led to a long argument and fisticuffs and our side mirror being smashed in revenge. Somewhat further into the journey we were directed to pull over because the president was passing through! I took this opportunity to find a toilet (a long-drop in an abandoned, tumbledown house) and after just a few minutes a dozen or so big, shiny, 4-wheel-drive vehicles sped past at an alarming rate of knots – the president and her entourage. Altogether the journey took 14 hours, resulting in the usual problems of dehydration and swollen feet. On the plus side, we were right at the front with good leg room, I had control of a window, there was more than one toilet stop and as we passed through Katavi National Park I glimpsed giraffe, elephants, two herds of buffalo and some hippos’ noses.

Crazy traffic in Tunduma, a town on the Tanzania-Zambia border. Lorries queue up for days, even weeks, waiting to cross the border, and bajajs (motorised rickshaws) abound.

Mpanda is also home to a good friend, Karin, who I have known for over 20 years. (Wow, is it really that long since I studied at All Nations Christian College, which is where we met?!) We lived together for a few years in Mbeya, before she married a Tanzanian colleague of ours. Work took them to Mpanda for a while, then they returned to Mbeya, and now they’re back in Mpanda, and I hadn’t seen Karin for about one and a half years. Now you know what the bus journey is like you may realise why we hadn’t managed to visit one another, despite being in the same country! So this work trip gave me a chance to finally see her again. Her husband met me at the bus stand and we used a bajaj to get to their home, as their car was at the garage. It was a relief to finally arrive and lovely to see Karin after such a long time.

Tuesday 9th September

Mpanda is much warmer than Mbeya and I struggled with the heat, but thankfully it cooled off overnight and I slept through the noise of the dogs (I must have been tired!) and was able to enjoy a relaxed morning with Karin before heading to the office. My colleagues were waiting for me: Abdul, who I had travelled with from Mbeya, and Elya, who is the Literacy & Scripture engagement Coordinator for the languages served by the Mpanda office. We set off in the office’s Land Cruiser, with me driving, picking up the Bende translators and a couple of other people en route. After a short stretch on tarmac we turned onto a dirt road, which in large part was very good. I was sad to see all the trees and bushes that had recently been chopped down and the swathes of land that were being cleared for farming in what was once a wild, untamed area. The road climbed upwards, so that by the time we reached the village of Mwese three hours later, we were about 1700 metres above sea level, which is the same altitude as Mbeya. It was a relief to be greeted by the cool evening air and know that I’d get to enjoy an Mbeya-type climate for a few days, before returning to Mpanda and going onto the hot Pimbwe language area for the second workshop.

It was my second visit to Mwese and since the last time electricity had arrived! The guest house was unchanged, except for having power. Power also meant that a loud mill, where people bring their maize to grind into flour, was operating most of the time, directly opposite the guest house. However, that kind of noise is highly preferable to loud music, which is a problem I’ve struggled with in many places I’ve stayed on my travels, and I somehow managed to fall asleep to the throbbing of the machine.

Wednesday 10th September

At about 9am we arrived at the church where we would hold the workshop. I was disappointed by the turnout – over 15 people had been invited but only 8 turned up. I learnt that part of the reason for not inviting more people in the first place was simply that there aren’t many Bende people in church leadership, as Christianity is not the dominant religion for this people group. This poses challenges for the best way to use the Bende Scriptures as church congregations are made up of people from different language groups, however they can still play an important role in homes and in evangelism.

The church where the workshop was held

The focus of the workshop was the pastoral epistles, particularly Titus and Philemon, as these letters have recently been printed together as one book in the Bende language. We started with a couple of hours of teaching on how to read Bende, particularly focusing on features of the language that are different from Swahili. For example, Bende is a tonal language, unlike Swahili, and so certain marks are used (e.g. ^) to indicate these tones. If the wrong tone is used, the meaning of the word will change, or the word becomes meaningless. After a bit of reading practice, we plunged into the background of Titus and its structure and then one of the Bende translators read the whole letter aloud, from start to finish. Having now grasped the context of the letter, we began to work through it passage by passage, which allowed lots of opportunity for participants to practise reading Bende. As we went we also identified Bible handling principles and applied them to our study of Titus.

Reading the Bende Scriptures and discussing in groups

At lunchtime, participants were given money to go and find food for themselves at the village centre, less than a 100 yards away from the church. Several of us went to the same café, where I chose ugali (maize cooked with water to form a firm stodge that you eat with your hands), dagaa (tiny fish) and cabbage.

On my evening walk I passed by farmland being burned ready for another season of planting and I could feel the heat of the flames as I went by. I find this practice somewhat terrifying, as I wonder how they prevent the fire from spreading where it’s not wanted. I found out later that they clear the edges of their fields first, before burning, so that the fire won’t spread.

Clearing farmland ready for another season of planting

Thursday 11th September

Day two of the workshop seemed to go well, with participants getting used to the teaching format and growing in confidence in reading and in answering and asking questions. We also had three more people join us, which was encouraging. We continued to work our way through Titus which, despite being a short letter, is full of practical guidance for living, motivated by God’s grace towards us in Jesus Christ.

I chose rice with greens and chicken in broth for lunch. I think this means I have now exhausted the menu (except for beans, which aren’t a great idea for me to eat). The food might be simple and limited, but it tasted good, and a banana with the rice was a delicious accompaniment. If you’ve never tried the banana-rice combo, you should!

My evening walk was less than pleasant as yet more burning was happening – bits of ash were floating in the air and I was breathing in smoke as I strode out along the road. Arriving back at the guesthouse, one of the workshop participants was there looking for me and Elya, as we’d asked to buy some of her bananas. I bought a bunch of plump, sweet, delicious little bananas, as well as taking one long fat one (a different variety of banana to any I’ve seen before) to try.

Friday 12th September

The workshop continued well and we finished on a positive note as people shared what they had found helpful. It was encouraging to hear them say things like:

• I’ve grown in confidence and will teach those around me.
• I’ve learned things I didn’t know about teaching. I would just take one or two Bible verses alone [without considering the context], but now I’ve learnt how to explain things well.
• I’ve been to college [by attending this workshop]! What we’ve learnt will be a guide for me. There are things I didn’t know, but now I do, and I will teach others so that we can correctly handle the Word of Truth.

However, it was also discouraging to hear them share how the community may react as they try to teach others and distribute the Bende books – they said some people will just think they attended the seminar to get money, especially because a white person was there, and they won’t understand or accept that this wasn’t the case and that the books and teaching are for the benefit of the church and community.

Discussing Paul's letter to Philemon

We finished around 4pm and I was hopeful that we’d get back to Mpanda before dark, but that was not to be the case. A few kilometres down the road, where we stopped to buy a strip of rubber to firmly tie down the luggage on top of the Land Cruiser and to buy some bananas, someone noticed that a tyre was leaking air. Some young men had a hut where they mended vehicles, especially motorbikes, and despite the fact that our jack was missing its turning-rod, they managed to jack up the car and take off the tyre. A careful inspection revealed that there wasn’t a puncture, instead where a previous puncture had been plugged it had temporarily been leaking air and then resealed itself, which is apparently quite normal, and usually you don’t even realise it’s happened.

Loading up the Land Cruiser ready for the journey back to Mpanda

This palaver set us back by some three quarters of an hour and so darkness overtook us well before we reached the tarmac road. The lights of the car proved to be rather weak, so my eyes grew tired from straining to look ahead, trying to see potholes and people and vehicles without lights in time to slow down and avoid them, as well as occasionally being blinded by other vehicles coming towards us without dipping their lights. It was with great relief that we arrived in Mpanda and I found out that our office manager there would take over driving for the last stretch and drop me off at Karin’s house. I arrived there about 9pm and enjoyed a plate of salad and fruit, a good chat and a refreshingly cool bucket bath, before going to bed.

Saturday 13th September

I woke with the light, and as soon as I heard Karin going out to see to the dogs, I went out to find her and asked to be let out of the compound (which is walled and gated for security reasons) so I could go for a run. The morning air was fresh and cool, but I was a sweating like a pig by the time I got back! The rest of the day passed pleasantly (though very warmly!) and included a chance to visit the site where Karin and her husband are planning to build a conference centre for youth ministry and also an orphanage.

Sunday 16th September

Mid-morning Karin walked with me to the bus stand, where I met up with my colleagues ready for the bus trip to the village of Manga in the Pimbwe language area. The bus was somewhat rough around the edges, with ripped seat covers and windows that no longer sat well in their frames. The seats were rather narrow and leg room was limited, especially as the handbrake (a literal handbrake – a block of wood with a handle) was pushed under the seat in front of me (which was the front seat of the bus) ready to be swiftly grabbed and put behind a wheel if we stopped, so I didn’t have much space to put my feet. After rattling along for about three and a half hours we arrived at our stop and got on the back of motorbikes to take us to nearby Manga. Unfortunately, my motorbike driver had misunderstood where we were going, and so he took me to the guesthouse owner’s home, rather than to the guesthouse itself, which was a few minutes outside of the village. We all had a good laugh over the mistake and I enjoyed seeing something of the local surroundings as we rode through the arid landscape along grey, sandy paths between thorny hedges – if we’d gone straight to the guesthouse we’d have just been riding along a wide tarmac road for a few minutes.

1. On the bus. 2. Guesthouse bedroom

I had a late lunch with Elya at one of the little cafes near the guesthouse. Like most cafés, it was a single cement room with a couple of plastic tables and a few plastic chairs and with a net curtain hanging in the doorway. Just outside the door, two ladies were doing the cooking – the usual fare was available, ugali or rice, with greens, beans or meat. We had a good chinwag before taking a short walk with one of the Pimbwe translators to check out the workshop location – the Baptist church. The pastor turned out to be extremely talkative, so it was hard to get away for a much needed rest, but after excusing ourselves there was still time for me to go for a very warm walk as dusk turned to night. Back at the guesthouse I enjoyed a refreshing cool bucket bath and a quiet evening with a sermon and cross stitch.

The arid landscape around Manga

Monday 15th September

Day one of the second workshop. It felt so different to the workshop in the Bende language area. Not only did we have a full turnout, but the character of the Pimbwe people is different – they speak much more openly and directly, making it easier to gauge their understanding and making the interaction more dynamic. It got very warm in the afternoon, but most of the participants valiantly stayed alert and engaged.

Lively group discussions

Back in my bedroom I dealt with a few emails while I waited for things to cool off a bit and then went for a brisk walk along the road; the sky was shaded softly in the pastel colours that are left after a sunset. On returning to the guest house I discovered there was a power cut so I had to wash, eat and spend the rest of my evening in the dim light of my travel solar light. Unfortunately, darkness also provides mosquitoes with a great opportunity to bite you unawares! Although I hadn’t seen many mosquitoes, it only takes one! Normally in a situation like this I’d retreat under my mosquito net, but the net’s frame was broken leading to the net lying rather low, which wouldn’t be very practical for trying to sit on my bed to do things! I eventually resorted to watching an episode of a TV series that I had on my external hard drive, while trying desperately not to scratch my itching mosquito-bitten foot.

Young cows learn to pull a plough by first getting used to pulling a heavy log behind them

Tuesday 16th September

Tuesday passed much as Monday had. Some of my favourite moments included seeing the dynamic discussions taking place in groups and at break times about things we were reading in Genesis, watching the red sun set as I went for my evening walk, friendly exchanges with the guest house staff (a lady with a young baby) and the cook where I got lunch (I’d put in a special request for eggs to go with the standard rice and greens, so she’d kindly found some to cook for me) and the feeling of camaraderie with my colleagues.

Abdul's turn to teach

Wednesday 17th September

The workshop finished well. My prayer is that they would have an ever-increasing desire to read God’s Word, after having seen how rich it is and having learnt more tools to help them understand and apply it. A highlight of the day was listening to the wonderful Pimbwe songs they composed, which were based on what we’d learnt together – I was amazed at how they could come up with unique tunes and good words in less than the forty minutes I gave them and sing the songs as if they’d been practising them for weeks.

At some point in the day, the translator called me out of the workshop to pay for the next day’s bus tickets as the agent had arrived who was making the booking for me and Abdul. I coughed up the cash (about £8 per ticket for the 250+ miles ride), was told we’d be given the tickets when the bus came, and received instructions to be at the roadside for 5.30am.

1. Interesting flowers 2. Little roadside stands selling oil

Thursday 18th September

I awoke a couple of minutes before my alarm went off at 5am, brushed my teeth, packed up and went to check if Abdul was ready. I knocked quietly on his door – he wasn’t up yet! Apparently he’d been told there was a slight change and we didn’t need to be at the bus stop until 6am. Someone could have told me too – I could have had another half hour in bed! I went and stood outside in the fresh night air – for the first time since arriving in Manga, I even felt slightly chilly! Abdul emerged a few minutes later and we walked to the layby just across the road, where a few others also waited in the dark. We waited and waited, as the night turned to dawn, the sky softly turned to oranges and pinks and finally blue, and the sun rose over the horizon. The bus finally arrived just after 7am!

Sunrise while we waited for the bus

Having run out of most of my own snacks, I enjoyed the Tanzanian version of drive-throughs, buying food from merchants holding their wares up the windows of the bus. First I bought peanuts, perfectly roasted. Then vitumbua – these are something like a soft crumpet in texture but greasier, made from rice flour and slightly sweet. They are delicious warm, but less pleasant when cold. Then around lunchtime I got chipsi mayai (a chip omelette), one of my favourite Tanzanian dishes, which was freshly cooked and tied up in a plastic bag. I also picked up a couple of oranges at a bus stand where I’d alighted for a quick toilet break; it was so refreshing to dig into one of these late in the afternoon when I was feeling thirsty but unwilling to drink more because there wouldn’t be any more toilet stops.

Most of the landscape we passed through was dry and brown, with lots of scrubby bushland interspersed with occasional villages and small towns. The pale purple bloom of jacaranda trees provided beautiful splashes of colour against the otherwise drab background of dry season. We finally arrived in Mbeya about 7pm. Abdul found himself a bajaj for the ride back to his home (2-3 miles away) and I enjoyed the chance to stretch my legs on the ten minute walk back to my house.

Roadside scene at a layby - lots of food vendors.
You can just make out the purple of the jacaranda tree in the left hand corner.

It felt so good to lie down in my own bed. I’d experienced quite the range of mattresses while I was away, most of which were rather thin or saggy, as well as got tangled up in different kinds of mosquito nets (though Mwese was mosquito-free, so no net was needed there) and had varying quality pillows. So a good shower and slipping in between my own clean sheets and laying my head down on my own pillows was a happy end to the day.

It has been another trip full of moments of sheer beauty and joy and also frustrations and doubts. It is such a privilege to travel and teach in this remarkable country. Where next, Lord?

Buses, boats, Bible, beauty

I would like to say my sleep was rudely interrupted when my alarm went off at 5am, but unfortunately I was already awake. Knowing you have an early start and a bus to catch rarely leads to a good night’s sleep. I dozed, or at least shut my eyes, as our bus sped from Mbeya to Njombe. It literally sped – we got stopped by police for going too fast! After about 2.5 hours at the big Njombe bus stand, we were off to the small town of Ludewa, arriving 4.5 hours later. Our luggage, stored under the bus, was coated in red dust from the roads. My colleague, Cleofaye, was getting her first taste of the delights of bus travel around here! Together with her family, Cleofaye has been in Mbeya for a year, and has begun working with the Kisi Bible translators as an advisor. This role primarily involves checking their translations for biblical accuracy, and being an office job she hadn’t yet had a chance to visit the Kisi language area (aka Ukisi). Her husband accompanied me on a trip to Ukisi last year, so this time it was his turn to take care of the kids so that Cleofaye could visit. Claudia, one of the Kisi translators, travelled with us, and Stanlaus, the other translator, had gone ahead for family reasons.

Cleofaye & Claudia warm themselves with mugs of chai at Njombe bus stand

As always after a long bus trip, I longed to stretch my legs, and the others were happy to join me. Claudia led the way, taking us to visit her sister-in-law. While there, dusk swiftly turned to darkness. Thankful for the torches on our phones, we headed back towards the guest house. I said good night and retreated to my room to eat, listen to a sermon and get an early night.

I woke to a cold, misty, but beautiful morning and went for a brisk walk. At 8.30am we headed up to the immigration office to report our presence, then down to the market. We needed to pick up some ingredients (cabbages, tomatoes and onions) for the meals that would be served at the workshop because the village we were going to doesn’t have much available in the way of vegetables as the environment is not conducive to growing them. It was also a chance for me and Cleofaye to buy some bananas and bottled water to take with us.

Morning walk in Ludewa

Finally the car arrived to take us down the mountain and off we went, stopping first to buy fuel for the boat journey ahead of us, and then heading down the steep, bendy road until we arrived at the shores of Lake Nyasa, where our boat was waiting for us. It’s a new boat, built for the Kisi community, funded by a partner organisation of our ministry, with the goal of making our ministry travel easier and also serving as an income generation project for the Kisi language committee. It was bigger than I expected, totally unlike the boat I’ve used on previous trips, and with a canopy providing some shade. A group of people had taken advantage of the fact that we were using the boat, and were getting a ride with us partway to attend a funeral. As we went, music played from a speaker tied onto the canopy’s scaffolding, powered by a solar panel resting on top of the canopy.

Preparing to board the new boat

As we approached Makonde, where we were heading, the wind got up and the waves got bigger, so getting off the boat was a little challenging, but we made it without getting too wet or dropping any of our luggage in the lake. At the guest house we had lunch (rice, greens and pork in a tomato stew) and then I set to sticking together the biblical timelines I had prepared for the workshop participants. I enjoyed a short swim in the slightly choppy lake before tea and then spent the evening hanging out in the living room of the house with Cleofaye. Unusually for a guest house, our bedrooms were in the family home, so it feels less like a guest house and more like staying in an Airbnb or staying with friends. The hosts were friendly, and one evening we chatted with the husband for a while as he ate his dinner in the lounge, and another I enjoyed being outside chatting with Claudia, some of the workshops participants and our hostess, as the cicadas chirruped away.

Our first day of the workshop didn’t exactly go as planned. The workshop was set to take place in the Anglican church, but someone had died and the funeral service was going to take place in the church that morning. This not only meant we needed to use a different church for the first day (the Seventh Day Adventist pastor immediately welcomed us to use their building) but also we weren’t able to get started until noon as everyone went to the funeral. I stayed behind in the SDA church with a couple of people, watching the Kisi translation of the JESUS film, and several little faces peered through the windows to watch as well. After a while these children plucked up the courage to enter the church and sit down, watching right through to the end of the film. Apparently the reason they weren’t at school was because a child had gone missing so everyone was out looking for them. After the film finished, I taught them a song and partway through they heard the school bell calling them back, so off they went. About noon Claudia and Stanlaus and the workshop participants arrived back at the church and we were able to get started. Numbers were lower than we expected, due in part to yet another funeral in a neighbouring village. I was teaching the same material I taught in the Manda area a few weeks ago, about the big story of the Bible. Once again we used the local language Scriptures alongside the Swahili Scriptures as we explored key events in the Old Testament and how they point to Jesus.

Children watch the JESUS film

After the workshop was over, we walked around until we found a spot where you could get phone network so that Cleofaye could make a quick call home to make sure all was well, then we headed down to the lake for a swim. However, plans to jump in the water were foiled by about a dozen or so children coming to sit down with me on the beach wanting to talk, telling me the Kisi words for various things while I told them the English words. Eventually I asked them how to say “to swim” in Kisi and whether they liked to swim, to which they said yes. So then I suggested we all go swimming! This proved to be a good solution to the awkward situation. They told the boys to leave, undressed down to the shorts that they were wearing under their skirts, and then we all scrambled into the lake (you can’t do much more than scramble as the beach is made up of big pebbles and stones that are hard to walk on) and swam around in the choppy waters as the sun set.

The next day, Wednesday, we headed up to the Anglican church, only to find a service underway for students from the local secondary school. It turned out to be a thanksgiving service for the life of a young teacher who had recently passed away unexpectedly. His poor wife was distraught. We waited outside until the service was over and then set up and got started. As the day’s teaching drew to a close, the children we had invited to come for some evening activities had already started to arrive. We had fun playing ‘Simon says…’ and then Claudia engaged them in a little Kisi literacy lesson and read them a short story. Work over for the day, I watched the red ball of the sun sink below the horizon as I splashed around in the lake with some children – it was a beautiful moment of joy and fun.

Children have a go at reading a story in their Kisi language

The final day of the workshop began without further unexpected delays, giving the translators a good chance to invite input from the participants on the quality of the translation of a book we were using. The ‘Big story of the Bible’ book had been translated into Kisi and checked (for the accuracy of the content) by me, but needed to be checked with the community to make sure it was understood and that the right Kisi words had been used to express different concepts. So we’d been using the book throughout the workshop and as we went we had asked participants to note anything they felt needed discussion. The translators also had words that they wanted help with, where they had struggled to find a good translation. For example, we talked about the word ‘garden’ to work out whether garden (which most likely conjures up the image of a small plot with a few plants in) or farmland better matches the picture the Bible gives of the garden of Eden. We also talked about salvation and redemption, as the translators could only identify one word for the two concepts, and we needed to find a way to express the different nuances of these words.

Discussing the Scriptures together

Our lunch on days one and two of the workshop was fish, but on day three it was chicken. My teeth wrestled with the meat to pull it off the bone and chew it, but the tough meat won on several occasions! I also had a taste of ugali made from fermented cassava flour. The most common form of ugali is made from maize flour (mixed with water to from a solid lump), but in Ukisi the only crop to really thrive in the sandy soil on the steep mountain slopes is cassava. They ferment it and lay it out to dry on racks, where it gives off a very distinctive smell, which I find rather unpleasant. The cassava ugali was more claggy than maize ugali, like home made glue that has dried into a no-longer-spreadable lump, and it tasted like it smelt. Most of my ugali ended up being devoured by the chickens and ducks waiting around for titbits! However, only three of us chose rice over ugali, showing just how much the Kisi love their local ugali. Definitely an acquired taste!

As the workshop drew to a close, I felt I had less of a sense of what people thought of the training than usual, but there was still some positive feedback. A moment in the workshop that particularly encouraged me was when a young lady picked up on a throw-away comment of mine about my daily Bible reading habit. Sometime after making the comment, having obviously been thinking about it, she asked me, “How do you go about reading the Bible every day?” I was thrilled to see her wanting to know how she could engage more deeply and regularly with God’s Word, and I explained how I work passage by passage through a book of the Bible, asking myself what it teaches me about God and how it applies to my life. She had attended our workshop in a different village last year and had told the translators that if we held another workshop, even if it was in a different village, then to let her know as she wanted to attend, so she was walking some distance to be there each day!

Views on an evening stroll

On Friday morning we got up while it was still dark, headed down to the beach with our luggage, and waited for the boat in the grey light of dawn. We bid farewell to the translators, who were staying on to visit a couple of other villages that they hadn’t been to yet, and boarded the boat. The sun rose above the mountains as we made our way over the calm waters; meanwhile the translators were on the backs of motorbikes heading up a very steep mountain track to visit the village of Kimata. It would be their turn to take the boat on Saturday, followed by a walk up another mountain to get to the village of Nkwimbili.

The car was waiting for us on the beach at Lupingu, and we arrived in Ludewa in time to catch the 10am bus to Njombe. On the plus side, there was no loud music, on the down side it was a small bus that rattled along as dust entered through the poorly sealed door and windows, such that after a while I started to hold a tissue over my nose to try and reduce the amount of dust I was breathing in. It was about 4pm by the time we arrived in Njombe, and I couldn’t face another long bus journey and a night arrival in Mbeya, so we booked a 6am bus for the next day and headed to a nearby guesthouse that I’ve used before. Leaving Cleofaye to rest, I enjoyed a brisk walk in the chilly evening air as the sun set – just what I needed after all that sitting. The next day’s bus journey was no better – although it was free from dust, as we were on tarmac roads, it took much longer than normal due to waiting at one point to take on board passengers from a bus that had broken down. They packed their luggage and the people strategically into the bus until there was no space for anyone to move, with aisle seats all folded down and occupied as well as people standing. After some of them had got off, an evangelist got on and started to preach – he said a lot of good, true stuff, but he somehow missed communicating the essence of the gospel of grace, and I was glad when he stopped as he was standing right next to me, shouting over the sound of the bus’s engine, with his spittle occasionally landing on my face.

Evening walk in Njombe

We decided to be kind to ourselves, after we had alighted at Mbeya’s out-of-town bus stand and made ourselves comfortable (we’d not had a toilet stop since we left over 6 hours earlier), by getting a bajaj (motorised rickshaw) to take us directly to our different homes, rather than getting on yet another small bus. It was with relief that I finally crossed the threshold – home at last. Despite the rigours of travel, I had enjoyed the trip: fun conversations with colleagues, the beauty of the lake and hills, the lush vegetation (in contrast to Mbeya’s increasingly brown and dusty landscape as dry season progresses), and the privilege of helping others discover more of the wonderful truths of God’s Word. Thank you, God; please continue to work in these communities to transform hearts and lives through your Word.

Diary of a trip to the Manda language area

Tuesday 10^th June

I'm in Lituhi, in the Manda language area. I arrived here this morning together with my colleague, a young Tanzanian man called Faraja (meaning ‘Comfort’). Our journey began at 6am yesterday morning with the 4.5 hour bus ride to Njombe, where we had hoped to catch the morning bus to Ludewa, but it was full, so we had to wait 5 hours in a very cold bus stand for the afternoon bus. It was grey, windy and wet – despite my thick cardigan and scarf I couldn’t stop shivering. At 3.30pm we finally headed off, arriving 5 hours later in Ludewa. I was very ready to get off that bus! I was tired of the loud music, I’d had enough of podcasts and the road was too rough for me to be able to read a book. In the darkness we headed towards a guest house. No room at the inn! Or the next one. Third time lucky.

Left: My first bus, early on Monday morning. Right: Later in the day at another bus stand, vendors sell their wares, holding them up to the bus windows.

This morning it was another 6am bus and another 5 or so hours on the road. Faraja paid one of the young men, who was waiting to give people rides on his motorbike, to take our luggage and the box of workshop materials up to the guest house, while we made our way on foot. I’m in the same room I was in last time, which is a nice size and peaceful, but catches the sun in the late afternoon, making it rather sticky.

After unpacking I started sellotaping Bible timelines together, ready to give out at the workshop, where we will be doing an Old Testament overview and looking at how it points to Jesus. As Genesis is foundational to understanding the big story of the Bible, we will be able to use the recently published book of Genesis in the Manda language, alongside the Swahili Scriptures and a little book I wrote in Swahili called ‘Habari nzima ya Biblia’ (literally ‘News whole of Bible’, i.e. the big story of the Bible).

Kanyaga Guesthouse in Lituhi, my bedroom

For lunch I had ugali, greens and fish, with a delicious local orange for dessert given to me by a kind gentleman in the café. He even carefully peeled it for me, using the common method here of paring the skin off with a knife to just leave a thin layer of clean pith, you then suck the orange off the pith. On a less happy note, I was sad to hear from Faraja that people had complained to the café owner that last time we came here to do a workshop we didn’t provide people with the food they expected. (The café had helped with the catering, bringing up morning tea to the church, while another café had provided lunch.) This was because when people see a white person, and know you’re with a big organisation, they expect to be wined and dined (which here would mean they expect to receive meat or fish and a soda with every meal) and even be paid to attend. From my perspective, this feels topsy-turvy – if a big organisation has organised a seminar in the UK, participants would expect to pay to attend rather than get training and food for free. However, it’s an attitude we have frequently faced in our ministry, caused in part by how some other NGOs have operated. We try to explain our ministry and how we want to work with the church and often over time they come to understand, but it can be hard at first. Our Tanzanian colleagues get the brunt of it, with people even accusing them of not providing better food or not paying people’s travel expenses because they are pocketing money for themselves.

What else have I done today? Rested, attempted to deal with emails but network was too poor, took a wee stroll with Faraja, ate my usual light tea while doing a crossword, and now I’m writing this.

View from the guesthouse

Wednesday 11^th June

Day one of the workshop. We’re holding it in a classroom belonging to the Catholic church, so before starting we tried to get a brief audience with the priest to greet and thank him. He was busy meeting with different people, so while we waited we chatted with others who were also waiting their turn, explaining to them about our work and listening to the audio version of Jonah in the Manda language. After a good half hour we couldn’t wait any longer, it was time to be meeting and greeting the workshop participants, so we headed to the classroom.

Faraja and I were both somewhat disappointed. We only had half the number of people we’d hoped for and they all, bar one, came from the same church denomination and seemed to be regular church members rather than those with leadership and teaching responsibilities. However, we were at least encouraged to see everyone engaging well and asking questions, as well as making good progress with reading Manda. They particularly enjoyed learning the children’s song, “He made the stars to shine”, which is one I translated some time ago into Swahili and use with children in Sunday school.

Above: Faraja introduces participants to how we write the two vowels that exist in Manda, but don't exist in Swahili. (If you look closely you can see them, a ʉ and an ɨ.) Below: Participants learn to read Manda.

Went for a good brisk walk with Faraja in the evening as the sun set. In the distance we could see the mountains of Malawi on the other side of Lake Nyasa, though the lake itself wasn’t visible. Apparently we’re about a one hour walk from the lake.

Thursday 12^th June

Day two. Expectations of starting more promptly, and with more people, were quickly dashed. A few turned up on time, but most trickled in later, and some people didn’t turn up at all (apparently this was due to a funeral somewhere). Once again, despite the disappointment over numbers, it was great to see them engaged and seemingly enjoying the teaching. Yesterday very few came with Bibles, so I’d asked them to bring them today. But still very few came with Bibles, so apparently the problem wasn’t forgetting to bring one, but simply that they don’t own one. More than half of the participants have bought the three main books we are using in the seminar (Genesis, The Life of Moses (a compilation of verses taken from Exodus to Deuteronomy) and The Big Story of the Bible), so at least they now have some Scriptures, and I pray that this workshop gets them excited about reading them! We have put an offer on, that if they buy all three books they pay just 2000 shillings (about 60p), instead of the total price of 3500 shillings. An offer is always attractive!

Today we had invited children to come to a little class just for them. Their catechism teacher let them all know, and they turned up promptly. Over 80 children! I played ‘Simon says’ with them and taught them ‘He made the stars to shine’ and then handed over to Faraja to read them a short Bible story in Manda and give them a brief introduction to reading their language. It was good to see that all the children understood and spoke Manda (in other places we find children are no longer using the local language), though some of the words in the story they didn’t know as Swahili has got mixed in with Manda, so certain words are no longer understood by this new generation. It was so fun to see the children’s upturned faces catching the late afternoon light, watching and listening intently and laughing and enjoying what we did, with their rosary beads dangling around their necks. May these precious children come to know Jesus as their Saviour and friend.

Faraja checks that the children know the names of body parts in Manda

After teaching Faraja was still game for a short walk despite the long day, so we stepped it out once again, returning as the trees became black silhouettes against the red sky. Time for a quick wash. Thankfully there’s been a good breeze and some cloud cover both days, preventing it from getting too hot, but teaching and walking leave me a bit sticky, so a cool wash is refreshing. The bathroom is nicely tiled and there’s a tap and a pipe just waiting for a shower head. But there’s no water in the pipes and there’s no sink. Bucket bathing only, with water draining away down the long-drop toilet. Basic, maybe, but it does the job! And when the water gets low I just ask the resident guest house staff (a friendly young lady called Catherine!) to refill the water butt.

Evening walk

Friday 13^th June

Last day of the workshop. I was very touched by a gift of bananas from an elderly gentleman who attended. It was great to see participants doing an excellent job of putting a set of Bible story pictures in order, as they had made many mistakes on their first attempt on day one. At the end it was good to hear people saying what they had learnt like, “I’ve come to see that our redemption through Jesus stems back to Abraham, there is a whole plan of salvation” and “I used to just read the Bible any old how, but now I see I need to follow the flow of the Bible” and “If we read the Bible it brings us close to God” and “I believe Jesus to be our Lord and Saviour, I believe in Jesus personally, not just believe in what my church denomination says” and “I will explain to others that when we want to repent we can talk directly to God” (i.e. we don’t have to go to a priest).

Participants put Bible story pictures in order

Saturday 14^th June

We had hoped to get the morning bus to Nsungu, where we would be doing the second workshop, but it turned out that the morning bus wasn’t running. As we wanted to get to Nsungu early enough to prepare for the days ahead, we decided to travel by motorbike rather than wait for the late afternoon bus. This is something I usually avoid, as there are so many motorbike accidents in Tanzania, but the driver drove carefully, I enjoyed a nice chat with him as we went, and just over an hour later we arrived safely. Safely, BUT under police escort, and what followed was an experience I hope never to repeat. In brief it involved being suspected of illegal imports and being made to empty out all our luggage, with Faraja barely escaping being locked up. If you want to know more, I’ll fill you in, but I don’t feel I should post the whole story publicly. The experience also included a very random encounter with a man from Belarus who was there as a tourist! We met him in Lituhi, and then again at the police station, just going from here to there on public transport, with his backpack and tent, and with no Swahili and limited English. He’d run out of cash for his bus ride to the next town, where he’ll be able to restock his wallet at an ATM, so I interpreted between him and the immigration officers and gave him money for his bus fare to Ludewa (about £3). Despite remonstrations he insisted on paying me back for the only way he could – in Euros! I think my German colleague will benefit from those!

With relief I finally left the police station, with Faraja being released a bit later. I was desperate for a drink and was very glad to arrive in the centre of the village, buy a big bottle of cold water, get a late lunch with Faraja (chips and chunks of roasted meat) and head to the guest house by the lake. Most of the day was now gone. I spent some time in quiet preparing to teach at Faraja’s church the next day (Faraja grew up in Nsungu, and his pastor helped us at the police station and had invited me to teach at his church on Sunday morning), before going for a short walk with Faraja.

Evening walk

Sunday 15^th June

I’m sitting in my room and the smell of beer is floating through the window. Just outside my room they are stacking up packs of soda and crates of beer ready for the wedding reception that will be taking place here this evening. The guest house courtyard has been decked with fairy lights and the guests are expected to arrive about 7pm. In anticipation of very loud music and crowds of people right outside my door until past midnight, I have decided to retreat to a different guest house for the night! I’ve made my reservation and will head over there later.

Left: My room with drinks stacked up outside, though many have already been bagged ready for guests, which you can see in the far left of the picture. Right: Ready for the wedding guests!

At church the pastor had tweaked the order of service to give me much longer to teach than I had expected! I spent well over an hour teaching about the importance of meditating daily on God’s Word and how we can do that – amazingly everyone stayed engaged. I wasn’t preaching, rather using visuals, examples and questions to help them understand and remember.

There’s always so much more I could write about, like the conversations with Faraja on everything from the games they played as children to how his mum would make beer and he would be given the juice to drink before it was fermented. Or little things like the beautiful red and orange butterfly I saw, or the very broken toilet seat and dribble of a shower at the guesthouse, or the gorgeous sunset over the lake. But right now I think it’s time to attempt a swim, if the lake isn’t too rough and if I can pluck up the courage to walk through all the men outside my door still counting and organising the drinks!

…

The lake was quite choppy, so I couldn’t swim far, but it was beautiful, and the best part was sitting on some steps on the beach afterwards watching the sun set behind the mountains of Malawi. I’m now at the other guest house, which could do with bit of maintenance (peeling paint and windows that don’t shut), and finding the music from the wedding reception still intrusively loud despite being a few hundred metres away. I’m glad I’m not still there; if I’d stayed I think I’d be crying by now – I don’t cope well with noise!

Lake Nyasa (aka Lake Malawi)

Monday 16^th June

I walked back to the other guesthouse only to find the gate locked and no-one up yet. About twenty minutes later (during which time I stood praying on the beach in the cool morning air) I was finally let in, and I was able to continue with my morning rituals.

Left: My bedroom at the other guesthouse. Right: Wedding reception aftermath.

[I’m writing this in the evening. Just been plunged into darkness. Power cut. I always carry a little solar light with me, which comes in very handy. They’ve now turned on a generator – the fumes are wafting in through my window, so I’d better shut that!]

Day one of the second workshop. We climbed the hill to where the church is located behind some army barracks (we are using the same church I was at yesterday). It was an encouraging first day, with an almost full quota of participants from several different denominations, many of whom have attended previous workshops and could already read quite well and a good number are people with leadership roles in church. So it felt very different from last week.

The church

How would you answer questions like, “What does it mean that Adam and Eve knew good and bad after eating the fruit? If they were made in the image of God, didn’t they already know good and bad?” or “Should Adam have used his authority as a man to prevent Eve from eating the fruit?” or “If God wanted to wipe out mankind due to their evil ways, why did he let Noah and his family live? And if Noah was righteous why do things go wrong again after the flood?” Often when people ask questions, I send a quick silent request to God for wisdom in how to answer – I don’t want to lead people astray by erring from the truth or miscommunicate as I struggle to express a particular concept in Swahili. It was great to hear one elderly lady say at the end of the day that she mostly just read the New Testament, thinking that the Old Testament is just about the Israelites, but now she’s realised that the whole Bible is about Jesus.

A short reminder of how to read Manda - several participants were already proficient readers

Enjoyed a good 1.5 hour walk with Faraja, with some lovely views across an inlet of the lake to the hills beyond. He introduced me to the fruit of the tamarind tree, which was very sharp but tangy – they weren’t quite ripe yet but were still edible. As we walked, we met a number of his old classmates from school days and on our way back we also met some of the workshop participants on their way home. I hadn’t realised just how far some of them had come – one lady we met, who was getting on in years and unable to walk very fast, pointed out the area she lives in which looked to be at least another mile or two further on, making it 4-5 miles from the church. I shouldn’t complain about people being late when they are walking such distances to attend and I should be more careful about finishing early enough for people to get home at a reasonable time!

One or two interesting things I learned, or relearned, today:

• You can eat the leaves of the cassava plant – a common meal is ugali made from cassava and served with greens made from the leaves, Faraja says this meal is called a ‘suit’ as it’s a complete outfit all from one plant!
• Monkeys might look cute to us, but they are a pest for farmers, destroying maize crops.
• The Manda word for father is ‘dadi’, it sounds like our English ‘daddy’ (except for the implosive ‘d’), unlike the Swahili ‘baba’.

Tuesday 17^th June

Went for a short swim in the calm waters of the lake this morning. Beautiful. Day two of the workshop seemed to go well, though I felt quite tired and wondered if the participants felt the same – too much information and not enough time for the brain to rest? It didn’t help that lunch arrived late. Unfortunately it wasn’t the most appetising of meals for me because I can’t eat beans and there were no greens, so it was just ugali and a smallish fish full of fiddly bones that were hard to pick out. I was very touched by the kindness of one of the participants, who noticed my limited meal and insisted on giving me her fish as she had beans she could eat instead.

Group work - learning about the Passover

Once again we had invited children to come for some fun. We had a smaller group this time, but we still enjoyed playing various games, singing a couple of songs and having a little literacy lesson. In Nsungu there has been more immigration of people from different people groups, so not all of the children spoke Manda, but those who did really enjoyed the story Faraja read to them.

Back at the guest house familiar faces greeted me. Colleagues had arrived from our office in Mbeya, plus a couple of guests who I have also met before – our new SIL Tanzania director, who is Cameroonian and will continue to live in Cameroon with occasional trips to Tanzania, and someone who works with one of our financial partners, Wycliffe Netherlands. They have come to Tanzania for a short visit to see with their own eyes how things are going. They’d driven here in the project’s Land Cruiser, and tomorrow, after meeting with some of the workshop participants, they’ll continue with their journey to the Kisi language area. I joked that us ‘normal’ workers have to take buses, while the big wigs get to take the Land Cruiser, as it’s too expensive for us to use it for all of our trips. It does feel a bit ridiculous that a vehicle that is there to make our work easier is sometimes left unused because the cost of using it exceeds our budgets. Mind you, in some ways I prefer buses because then you have no responsibilities – I don’t have to worry about traffic police or punctures or other things going wrong! I can just sit back and relax, though maybe ‘relax’ is overstating things, as the journeys are rarely comfortable and have a distinct lack of toilet stops.

Another sunset over the lake

Wednesday 18^th June

Another swim, enjoying the beauty around me and the swallows flitting up and down over the water. Later, as I walked up to the church with one of the visitors, he commented that I was like a mountain goat going up the path – I guess I’ve got used to skipping over the steep rocky path up to the church! I translated for our new director, so that he could follow what was going on in the meeting. The community were asked to respond to various questions about the project’s impact and their vision for the future. After over an hour of discussion we said our goodbyes, had our morning cup of tea (black and very sweet) and mandazi (which faintly resembles a doughnut in taste, though not in shape) and got stuck into day three of the teaching.

It felt like something of a marathon, but then we were trying to cover several thousand years of history over three days! Doing actions to represent the different events in the Old Testament, singing occasional songs, and a little bit of dramatisation of the story, all helped to break things up.

[Just killed a mosquito, third one this evening, but another one escaped my grasp. Oooh, got it!]

At the end, many of the participants expressed how they now realised that the Old and New Testaments are part of one story. That was one of the key goals of the seminar, so praise God for that! Other encouraging feedback included, “I’ve come to know that salvation is through faith” and “I want to find a Bible!” (this participant didn’t own a Bible – I pray her enthusiasm won’t grow cold before she’s able to get one) and “In the Old Testament they gave burnt offerings, but Jesus was our perfect sacrifice, he’s the offering we need. I will teach this in church.”

Today’s evening walk was to Faraja’s home, to visit his mum. We didn’t stay long, and most of the time they spoke Manda, but it was nice to have met her. On the way back we passed by the home of the pastor whose church we’d been using – he had been an active participant in the workshop, despite not being Manda. He’d asked us to pop in – it turned out he wanted to give me a gift, a colourful woven basket!

Thursday 21^st June

Homeward bound. Up at a painfully early hour to catch the bus, which we’d been told could leave anytime between 5-6am. It left about 5.30am. The windows rattled away as we made our way along the dirt road. Always considerate, Faraja had let me take the window seat so that I wouldn’t be inconvenienced by the people standing in the aisle. On a crowded bus, you inevitably end up with someone leaning into your personal space, or their bag swinging onto your head or having to lean out the way as people squeeze round each other to get off the bus. At every opportunity to get off the bus, I did. Whether or not I needed the toilet, I would go anyhow, as I wasn’t sure when the next opportunity would be. Each stopping place had some kind of toilet option – long drops of varying degrees of cleanliness, a 50:50 chance of the door lock working and always costing 300 shillings (just under 10p).

About 3 hours later we pulled into the district town of Ludewa. After a short break, we continued to the regional town of Njombe. Throughout the 5 hour journey a woman was lying down in the aisle, obviously not feeling well enough to sit! In Njombe, we bought tickets for our next bus and had an hour to get some food and stretch our legs before continuing. We arrived back in Mbeya about 8.30pm. Phew! Tired and dehydrated, but safely home at last. As always, despite the challenges, I have enjoyed the opportunity to be out in the community instead of in the office, teaching and interacting with people and delighting in God’s creation in a different part of the country.