Mountains, lake, buses, boats - another trip to Ukisi

I met my Kisi colleagues (Claudia and Stanslaus) at the bus stand at about 5.30am and we caught a 6am bus to Njombe, where we needed to change buses to get to Ludewa. A couple of months ago I had made the same trip, when I went to the Manda language area (see earlier blog) to do the same thing – a couple of workshops on Luke’s gospel. The Manda and Kisi language areas are next to each other, so getting to both areas involves a bus trip to Ludewa first, after which you head directly west to Lake Nyasa to get to the Kisi language area, while the Manda language area is further south, though also next to the lake. Although geographically further away, the Manda language area is actually easier to get to as the land slopes gently down into the lake so villages can be reached by reasonably good dirt roads, while the Kisi language area is made up of steep mountains that drop directly into the lake, so getting from one village to another involves precipitous mountain tracks or boat rides to the lakeshore villages.

Left map shows the route from Mbeya to Lupingu (at the very bottom of the map on the eastern shore of Lake Nyasa), via Njombe and Ludewa. Right map shows the different language areas – the Kisi area is the one bordered in red, the Manda area is to the south and the Pangwa area (we’re also doing Bible translation in this language) to the east. I’ve circled the town of Ludewa and the village of Lupingu in blue.

The bus to Ludewa looked somewhat rough and ready, and the engine failed before we’d even got out of the bus station, but the bus driver fixed it and we were soon on our way without further problems. The bus bumped away over the dirt road for some time, before reaching a long stretch of newly surfaced road that provided sweet relief from the rattles, shakes and dust. We arrived in Ludewa at 4.30pm, therefore providing me with ample time to visit the market to buy some bananas and satsumas and then go for a walk. Ludewa is a lovely small town, with a sleepy, friendly feel, and surrounded by hills. It’s warmer than Mbeya, being at a slightly lower altitude, but not too hot, especially at this time of year. However, white people aren’t common viewing, so I was an object of interest everywhere I walked, especially as I walk fast, which invites comments along the lines of “She walks like a soldier” (i.e. marching along quickly) – I don’t think they realise I can understand what they are saying about me!

Enjoying an evening walk in Ludewa

I was startled awake in the night by the sound of rain. Rain in July?! It’s the middle of the dry season, we shouldn’t have been seeing rain until October or November. And it was proper rain, that kept going most of the night and it was still drizzling when we got up the next morning. We rented a car and driver to take us along the mountain road to the Kisi village of Nindi, and were duly dropped off at the Catholic church where we would be holding the workshop (not in the church itself, but in one of their rooms just down the road); the Catholic church is the main denomination in the area. Leaving the workshop resources there, we headed down a red dirt path to where we would be sleeping in the grounds of the Catholic church, which were extensive. The accommodation was basic but ample – what more do you need than a bed with clean sheets (though the mattress was somewhat thin, so I could feel the planks of wood through it), a table and chair, a toilet next-door to my room (albeit outside, with a door that stuck when you tried to open it) and a friendly welcome from a Catholic 

The classroom's toilet

sister promising hot water to wash with in the evening. My kind colleagues had made sure I had the nicest living situation, as their toilet was not just outside, but maybe 20-30 metres away from their rooms! While on the topic of toilets, the one available for use by the classroom where we held the workshop, had grass walls and no roof, so it was wonderfully smell-free, if a little exposed. Big, 1cm-long ants, with shiny black bottoms, scuttled around the hole – definitely wouldn’t want to get those ants in your pants!

Staying at the Catholic guest house in Nindi (outside, bathroom and bedroom)

We had sixteen participants on the first day of the workshop. In a nutshell, the workshop covered learning to read Kisi and studying Luke’s gospel together (recently published in Kisi). Through a mixture of group work and up-front teaching, we looked at a range of passages that helped us identify some key themes in Luke. We finished by thinking about how what we learnt applied to our own lives and how they could use Luke’s gospel (in both print and audio forms, together with the Jesus film) in their homes, their churches and their community.

Workshop participants learn to read Kisi and start to read Luke’s gospel in Kisi (Nindi)

When it came to lunchtime there wasn’t enough rice for everyone, as some participants had turned up after we’d informed the cook of how many people there would be (the usual issue of people arriving late), so we waited while she quickly prepared some ugali to go with the beef stew. Beef stew sounds rather grand for what is just beef in stock with a little chopped tomato for good measure. I was happy to wait for the ugali, which I generally prefer to rice as they often put too much oil in the rice for my taste. However, I failed to finish my lump of ugali, as I only had three small cubes of beef (which was tender and tasty) and the fatty stock (where the fat quickly solidified into orange blobs due to the cold weather) to wash it down. On a short evening walk, I picked up some tomatoes to 

Out for a walk in Nindi

supplement the carrots, cucumber and oranges that I had brought with me for my evening meals, making up for the lack of anything fresh at lunchtime. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to find any of those vegetables or fruits here, which is why I had brought them with me; typically the only fresh thing you can find in rural villages is tomatoes. Although the village of Nindi is less than an hour’s drive from the town of Ludewa, it feels very rural, as the mountain roads are not easy to traverse. This is why so little is available for sale, be it food or anything else. Phone network coverage is also poor, which adds to the feeling of remoteness – around noon the network suddenly seemed to wake up, before disappearing again in the evening. My colleague said the phone towers are solar-powered, so they only work once the sun is high in the sky, and as the first couple of days were cloudy it was particularly slow to get going. 

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4pm, Thursday 13^th July, 2023

I am writing this while sitting in the workshop room. I’m here alone – the room has an abandoned look, as if people have left in a hurry, with bottles of water standing sentinel here and there, and a few Bibles scattered on the benches. It’s because of a funeral. This morning we heard that someone had died and the burial would take place this afternoon at the Catholic church, which is just up the road – I can see it through the window from where I am sitting and I can hear the faint strains of a choir singing at the funeral service. Local tradition means it’s important for pretty much everyone to attend, whether you know the person who died or not. It was especially important for us as half of our workshop participants are from the Catholic church, and we are using their buildings for the workshop! My Kisi colleagues have gone, but I have stayed to look after the things left in the room (there’s no way to lock the door), as the fact that I am a complete stranger means it’s less necessary for me to attend.

Oh, one of my colleagues has already returned; they kept that service short! He tells me that though the service was short, the burial will be longer, as it’s there that they will begin to tell the person’s story of when they were born, what happened etc. (I found out later that he was only 27; he had become ill but despite going to several hospitals they failed to identify the real source of the problem.) At lunchtime the workshop participants were all talking about it, as apparently someone had refilled the freshly dug grave so there was lots of speculation over what was going on, with talk of him having been killed and that witchcraft was involved. (The truth turned out to be that the family had spent all their money on trying to get treatment for him, so they had no money left to pay for proper transportation of the body back from the hospital where he had died, so he’d been carried ‘secretly’ on the back of a motorbike, without the proper paperwork for transportation and burial (or something along those lines). So the grave had been refilled to prevent burial, over concern that the proper procedures hadn’t been followed and it could create trouble. However, in the end, this decision was overturned, recognising that the man deserved a decent burial, and any officialdom could be sorted out later.)

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Despite everything, we were able to get through all the material I had prepared, as we went faster than we did in the Manda area because they asked less questions! I was wishing they’d ask more, as questions give me a sense of where people are at, what their level of understanding really is and what issues there are in their biblical understanding and Christian living. However, despite this lack of feedback as we went along, the feedback at the end was really encouraging.

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Here’s some of what was said (loosely translated and abbreviated from Swahili):

“This workshop has opened my eyes to how to read the Bible.” and “I didn’t know how to use the Bible, but from now on I’ll be a teacher of the Bible!” (Many participants were from churches where reading the Bible isn’t something that is particularly encouraged, so it was an eye-opening experience to discover how we can study the Bible and learn from it for ourselves.)

“I’ve learned what principles to use when reading the Bible, and tools for teaching, such as sitting in a circle and discussing.”

“I’ve learned about prayer. Even Jesus prayed for something he didn’t get.” (This referred to one of the themes we looked at in Luke of Jesus being a man of prayer. We talked about how Jesus prayed for his cup of suffering to be removed, but may God’s will be done.)

“This has been a new thing for me, do we preach Jesus or do we preach the development of the church? We need to make changes. If someone comes to my church, will they meet Jesus or a request for money?” (This came out of our discussion about the themes in Luke, and how those themes compare to the things we normally teach in our churches.)

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With my colleagues, Stanslaus and Claudia, in
Nindi (in front of the Catholic church)

Workshop over, we were picked up by the same driver as before to be taken to Lupingu, down by the lake, where we were welcomed by warm air and the sound of waves breaking on the beach. (I had felt cold the whole time we were in Nindi, due to overcast skies and a chilly wind.) I killed four big cockroaches in my room and en-suite bathroom before bed – warmer weather always means bigger bugs! The next morning we went to visit the pastor of a church, who so far has refused to support and be involved in the work we are doing. Working cross-denominationally can be challenging, with some people being very denominationalist, unwilling to work alongside people from certain other denominations. We praise God that a side effect of our work is often bringing about co-operation between churches that previously wouldn’t have associated with each other. Unfortunately, the pastor was out fishing and wouldn’t be back for some time, so we spoke to the pastor’s wife and then headed back to the guest house, packed up our stuff, and got in the small motor boat waiting to take us to Makonde further up the lake.

Thankfully the lake was fairly calm, an answer to prayer after how rough it had been in recent days – we heard that just a few nights previously (when we had that unexpected rain) it had been really stormy, with big waves reaching beyond the usual shoreline, and sweeping away or damaging fishing nets and boats. As we progressed towards Makonde, I was amazed to see telegraph poles hugging the shoreline and to discover that electricity had made it all the way to Makonde. That must have been a challenging job, with no roads for transportation of the poles and cables, and most of the shoreline being rocky so that it would have been hard to get close with a boat.

Being Saturday, we took it easy, but we still went to visit another pastor to invite his participation in the workshop and our work in general. He was of the same denomination as the pastor we tried to visit in Lupingu and he proved equally reluctant to get involved; incidentally people from that same denomination had participated happily in the Nindi workshop. We also visited a couple of other pastors (who are fully supportive), though I spent most of my time subtly reading a book on my phone while my colleagues chatted with them in Kisi (whenever they switched to Swahili, I joined in, but I don’t understand any Kisi, though sometimes I can pick up the gist of a conversation by occasional Swahili words that get thrown in). I also enjoyed a short swim in the evening, and a few moments of quiet by the lake after the sun set before hiding away in my room. Although we were staying in a guest house, it was more like an AirBnB in feel as the guest rooms are within the family’s own home, so I could hear the family and my colleagues talking together in the living room, a strangely comforting sound. I enjoy chatting with folk here, but I find I also need time to myself – the fast conversation of a group can be hard for me to follow and engage in, either because I lack context or because I don’t know the relevant vocabulary, all of which can make it quite tiring to follow along. Sunday was a fairly quiet day, other than attending a local church in the morning (the one where we would hold the workshop) – I was really encouraged by the good teaching of the elderly pastor, who faithfully taught the truth. Despite spending much of the day just sitting around reading, doing cross-stitch or listening to audio stuff, I didn’t find it very relaxing, though it would be hard to put a finger on why, other than maybe just that sense of being a guest in a strange place so that you are always conscious of how you behave.

Moody sky one evening in Makonde

The workshop got off to a promising start on Monday morning, with a good turnout (we had around 25 participants by the end of the first day) and a good mix of denominations. The translators have visited Makonde many times (it’s sometimes considered the place where the purest Kisi language can be found), so there has been a lot of exposure there to our work. This was evident in people’s proficiency in reading Kisi and the fact that the majority of participants had already got a copy of Luke in Kisi and had brought it with them to the workshop. They also asked more questions and showed a greater readiness to answer questions, all of which made my job of teaching much more enjoyable.

Left: Claudia teaches about the letters that exist in the Kisi alphabet that don’t exist in Swahili. Right: Group work, discussing various Bible passages in Luke. In the foreground, you can also see the basket of cups and thermos flasks ready to serve chai (morning tea – black, very sweet and lightly spiced).

After we finished, Claudia and I went to a participant’s house to enjoy oranges freshly picked off her tree (I tried to explain to Claudia that oranges in England were actually orange, but I think she found it hard to take in, as oranges here are typically green, maybe with a bit of yellow or orange on them). I also had a fun conversation with her about hair, explaining that we use shampoo and not oil in our hair like they use. When I came to eating my tea, I was disgruntled to discover that tiny ants had got into my food tub. I proceeded to knock and blow them off my homemade granola bar as best I could, clean out the tub and clean off the floor where they were now scuttling around. I then noticed some of the ants on my neatly folded pile of clothes and realised that ants were running around all over the place. I shook out my clothes, moved everything to a different part of the room and resolved to ask that my room be cleaned the next day. Ants are a relentless problem in a place like Makonde. In Mbeya I sometimes find ants scuttling around my bathroom or crawling over our waste food tub or along the worktop in the kitchen, and much worse are the termites in the garden constantly eating away at our fence, but I think in this warmer, more humid environment by the lake, the situation is much worse.

The workshop finished well on Wednesday, with people who had come from further afield beseeching us to visit their village with workshops like this, and even the people of Makonde itself asking us to come again. It was encouraging to see the spirit of unity between churches that was fostered through the workshop – there had been some awkward questions and comments that could have been divisive, but at the conclusion of it all it was clear that they recognised that we share one message of good news for the people of Makonde and we need to work together to proclaim the Kingdom of God and to make the Kisi Scriptures available. And this message is needed just as much in Makonde as anywhere. One evening I walked past a house where a lady had created what looked like a very shallow paddling pool (maybe 2 metres long by 1 metre wide), filled with a slightly brown liquid with froth on top, which she was stirring. I found out later it was local brew (usually made from maize) – what she was doing was a quick way of cooling it off so that it would be ready for selling and drinking. From afternoon to evening, every day, people sit around next to the football field, down by the lake, drinking. It seems that alcoholism is a real problem here. (And not just here, I’ve heard it’s a problem in many many places.)

Views around Makonde

Each evening that we had stayed in Makonde the lake was quite rough, so on Tuesday we made the decision that I shouldn’t try to leave on Wednesday evening straight after the workshop, but should wait until Thursday morning, as the lake is usually calmer in the mornings, even though this meant I wouldn’t get home until a day later. So the boat and car was accordingly arranged for Thursday. Remembering the last time I had visited Makonde and the very rough boat ride back to Lupingu, which made even the locals somewhat anxious, this felt like a wise course of action. But when Wednesday evening arrived, there was hardly any breeze and the lake lapped gently against the shore; people here always say, “The lake is unpredictable!”  At least this meant there was a chance to have one final dip in the lake, enjoying the beautifully coloured fish swimming around the rocks on the lake bed and staying until the big pink disc of the sun sank below the hills of Malawi on the other side of the lake. Idyllic though this sounds (and it was truly beautiful, causing me to break into song, “Oh Lord my God, when I awesome wonder, consider all the works thy hands hath made”) I also felt very ready to head home, to where I can speak English with friends and not feel so very much like a fish out of water. Still, I spent a pleasant evening chatting with the landlady for a while outside, while marvelling at the stars, and then chatting with her husband and Claudia indoors and watching the news together, before retiring to my room for a bit of time to myself and to make sure I was ready for the next day’s early start.

The next morning I was up at 6am. Half an hour later I was ready to go. By that time, one of the landlady’s children, who couldn’t have been more than ten years old, was already outside sweeping the yard and a wood fire was already lit in the kitchen (a brick building, separate from the house), with smoke billowing out the open door and windows. The landlady shortly headed down to the beach to try and find some fish or meat for the cooking she’d be doing that day. We had kept her busy, as she had cooked all the food for our workshop, and now she would be cooking for the 5-day meeting my colleagues would be holding with the ‘Reviewers Committee’ (a group of Kisi Christians) to check through the first half of Genesis. I didn’t get to have any fish while I was there, despite being next to the lake, as the choppy waters meant hardly any fish near the shores and no fishing. We had pork one day though – there are lots of pigs roaming around the village, and while I waited to board the boat to leave, I could see a pig lying lifeless on the beach, with a man hard at work cleaning the skin ready to butcher it. Next time I turned around to look, there was the head, eyes staring sightlessly up into the sky. It almost made me want to turn vegetarian, but I’m rather partial to pork!

And finally I was off. Stanslaus (who accompanied me) kept up a loud conversation with the boat people over the noise of the engine and every now and then got busy with a scooper to get rid of the excess water sloshing around in the bottom of the boat. Within a couple of hours we’d arrived in Lupingu, where they somehow managed to drop my rucksack in the water as we climbed ashore, so my clothes all got rather damp! I said goodbye to Stanslaus and got in the waiting car, together with Stanslaus’s wife and daughter-in-law, as the latter was pregnant and needed to go to the hospital in town ready for giving birth. An hour and a half later we were in Ludewa and I had bought a ticket for the 11am bus to Njombe. Arriving in Njombe about 4pm, I couldn’t face getting on another bus, so I bought a ticket for a 6am bus the next morning and headed to a guest house. I struggled to hold back the tears when I was finally alone in my room. The travel, the tiredness, the unwanted attention because I’m white and the resulting bad attitude I had to people who were trying to help me (albeit with the hope of getting money out of it) left me feeling miserable. But after hanging out my damp clothes to dry, a shower, a walk with lovely views, some grilled maize and a friendly chat with the guest house worker, I felt a lot better.

Waiting for the accident to be cleared – the queue of traffic
stretched into the distance. The bus I was travelling on is
the one on the left.

By lunchtime the next day I was home, though we got stuck for an hour or so due to an accident, so it had been a longer journey than anticipated. My head was reeling from the loud music on the bus – can you believe it, they were playing Michael Jackson music videos! I was exhausted. I’d enjoyed my travels, I was thankful for the privilege of teaching local Christians and for their warm appreciation for what we are doing, the mountains, lake and night skies were food for the soul as they pointed to our loving Creator, and I’d enjoyed chatting with Claudia, but it felt so good to be home again.

Off to the capital

One advantage of an early start - getting to watch the sunrise

5am. Seriously? When did they change the bus departure times from being 6am to 5am?! So I had to get up in what felt like the middle of the night to catch the bus to Dodoma, the administrative capital of Tanzania, where I was going to be teaching two workshops. At least the bus stand is only a five minute walk from our home! Nearly eleven hours on the bus, with only one toilet/food stop (of just ten minutes), doesn’t make for the most comfortable experience, but it was nice to arrive in Dodoma mid-afternoon and have time for the excitement of a visit to the supermarket. That may not sound exciting to you, but Mbeya’s biggest food store has three very short aisles, so you can browse everything they stock in less than five minutes. Not that I’m complaining, as we can get almost everything we need, and for a terrible decision maker like me it’s a good thing to not have a lot of choice! But I’ve always rather enjoyed food shopping, so it was fun to have this chance to browse a bigger store. I bought some juicy sultanas off the bargain shelf – amusingly the packaging declared a price of ‘£1.45’ (about 4400 Tanzanian shillings), so it had obviously been imported from the UK. Usually such items are two or three times the original UK price, but it was on a date-offer of just 3000 shillings!

Lunch stop - I was on the bus in the middle

I was staying with friends and colleagues in Dodoma, Michelle and Nicholle Haupt (they’re sisters) – they were the ones who had invited me to teach as they are coordinating Scripture Engagement work in the projects that are based out of our Dodoma office. The first workshop wasn't held in Dodoma itself, so on Monday we had to catch a bus to a small town called Magugu, which spreads out on either side of the main road that connects Dodoma (in the centre of Tanzania) to Arusha (in the north). This meant another five or so hours on a bus! Magugu is in the Mbugwe language area, and the three Mbugwe translators had arrived over the weekend to make sure everything was set up. It was my first time to visit, and I can’t honestly say I will be in any hurry to return! Compared to the highlands of home in Mbeya, the landscape felt bland and the town somehow reminiscent of a Wild West town with sand, dust and drab looking buildings on either side of the highway. On my third evening there I was thankful to discover a road that led me away from the highway and houses towards a village, where I finally felt I could breathe as my surroundings opened out to fields and vegetation, with low lying hills ahead. The second (and last) time I walked along that road, I caught up with a teenage girl walking home to the village (apparently 6km away from Magugu) who wanted to chat with me, so she picked up her pace to keep up and we exchanged pleasantries. I learned that she walked that 6km every day to get to her school in town!

Going for a walk

The workshop was for Sunday school teachers. The goals of the workshop were:

• to teach them to read their Mbugwe language
• to introduce them to a series of Old Testament Bible story books that have been translated into Mbugwe that they can use in Sunday school
• to do a Bible overview with them (using those books, which covered creation, the fall, Noah, the tower of Babel, God’s covenant with Abraham, Isaac and the Exodus, as part of that overview)
• to teach them interactive methods for teaching children
• to provide guidance for preparing a Sunday school lesson.

Playing games

We had around 15 teachers, coming from villages across the Mbugwe language area. They had varying levels of ability, but all engaged well and by the end each one was able to share something they had learnt, from understanding the significance of sacrifice and how that began right at the beginning in the Garden of Eden, to enjoying new games that they can use with children, to learning how to read Mbugwe. They were a fun group to be with and at the end we were touched by many kind words and each of us facilitators received a gift of a big bag of rice. Apparently Magugu is known for its rice – at the edge of the football field outside our guest house were piles of rice husks. In the mornings I saw ladies winnowing (using a shallow basket to toss the rice husks in the air and let the breeze blow them away); I think they were looking to see if they could find any grains of rice left among the husks. We finished the workshop early Friday afternoon, and before departing they performed a traditional song and dance for us, in their own unique Mbugwe style, circling around the drummer with careful footwork and moving their shoulders in time with the beat.

Traditional Mbugwe dancing

Saturday morning we were back on the bus to return to Dodoma, wondering exactly what we would find in the Haupts’ house, as we’d received news while we were away that it had been burgled. We arrived at the house to find their househelp had kindly stayed around while people were there repairing the window frame and iron bars that had been cut through by the thieves in order for them to get into the house. Thankfully nothing of any significant value had been taken, it was mostly kitchen items and a few other things, but knowing someone has broken into your home is unsettling to say the least. We visited the supermarket that evening in order to replace the kettle and iron!

On Sunday I went with Michelle to the church they attend, which is pastored by the team leader of our Dodoma project office; he proved to be a great Bible teacher. The service was a real encouragement to me – the last time I had felt fed and built up by a church service was in February when I was in Dar for our strategy meetings! It was such a contrast to the far-too-loud church I normally attend, with endlessly repeated choruses, four choirs to listen to and sermons that seem to contain an unnecessary amount of shouting. (I don’t really know much about the content of the sermons as I’m usually out teaching Sunday school, but from the odd chance I’ve had to stay in for a sermon it seems that the teaching is usually milk rather than meat.) You may wonder why I don’t find another church, but the reality is that the alternatives may be no better, in fact they may be worse. At least in the church I attend most of what is said is faithful to Scripture, there seems to be genuine care for people in need, the pastor appears to be a man of prayer and I feel part of the church family to some degree.

Group work - practising telling the
Bible story and teaching

Monday we began again – workshop number two, this time held in the Dodomaoffice, with the Sunday school teachers coming into Dodoma from the Rangi and Burunge language areas. The goals of the workshop were similar, but the Rangi and Burunge books we were sharing with them to use in Sunday school were very simple books of teachings and stories of Jesus, so I spent less time on doing the Bible overview and more time looking at these different stories and learning how to teach children. I was amused at lunchtime on the first day to find out that one of the Bible translators, who was supposedly working away in his office, was actually listening into our seminar and making notes on it! After talking about how there is no more need for sacrifice since Christ gave his life for us, one participant asked how do you respond as a Christian when there has been a fire on your land and the neighbours say you must join them in making sacrifices (I think to appease the gods or ancestors). It would have been easy for me to say you need to stand firm and refuse to participate, but I’ve never had to face that kind of community pressure! I invited the group to respond to his question and I was very glad when a participant was able to share a personal example of standing firm in a similar situation.

Performing a memory verse song they had
composed (first workshop) - there was a power
cut, and the room was rather dim, so they
were using torches on their phones to help
them see the words!

At the end of the workshop we invited people to share something new they had learnt about God, something new they had learnt about how to teach children and one thing that they had really enjoyed about the workshop. It was great to hear people saying that they’ve seen God’s love right from Genesis, how he wants to be near to us, how he came to seek and to save the lost etc. It was encouraging to hear lots of them say how much they enjoyed the teaching, that they didn’t get tired because it was so engaging and that they have learnt a lot about how to teach children.

Thursday morning it was back on the bus for 11.5 hours to return to Mbeya (it always takes longer on the return journey, maybe because of climbing the hills to get back up to Mbeya and the traffic jams on the way into town). It was good to get home. I was exhausted after the trip, both from the fairly intense programme and the travel itself, but I was thankful for all that God had enabled us to do. I pray that the Sunday school teachers will have the courage to implement what they learnt, and also have gained an appetite for reading God’s wonderful Word.

I was fascinated by the unique housing style in the countryside outside of Dodoma -
long, low, flat roofed mud houses.
(Apologies for blurry image - it was taken while on the bus.)

Off to Umanda to teach through Luke's gospel

I was very ready for a break from the office, so despite having to travel alone using buses I’d not used before, I was looking forward to visiting the Manda language area (known in Swahili as ‘Umanda’, which is much less clumsy than saying ‘the Manda language area’, so from now on I’ll use the Swahili term) to teach a couple of workshops about the book of Luke. This gospel has recently been published in the Manda language, in both print and audio forms, and the Jesus film (based on Luke) has also been translated in Manda, so the goal of the workshops was to equip churches to use these resources, by studying some key themes in Luke and discussing how Luke can continue to be used in their homes, churches and community.

The journey

(I got a bit carried away writing about my journey, so you might want to skip some of this!)

Waiting at Mbeya bus station

My colleagues, the Manda translators (Erasto and Faraja), who I would be meeting in Umanda, had advised me on which buses to catch and what times they should be departing, so I felt I had a good enough idea of what to expect that I didn’t need to worry. They had made the same journey a day or so before me, in order to meet with the Manda CBO (Community Based Organisation) to discuss issues like the distribution of Manda materials. So, as advised, I made sure I was at the bus stand by 7am, ready to catch the Super Feo bus that would be coming from near the Zambian border and heading towards Njombe, where I would change buses to continue to the small town of Ludewa. Well, 7am was a bit optimistic – the bus came about 8.15am, and by 8.30pm we were on the road. I almost didn’t get a seat! I was told I didn’t need to get a ticket in advance, but to just get one on the bus. The advice was correct, but I think I got the last available seat, right at the back. It took me back to my childhood, when the back of the bus was considered the best place to sit, and the more bumps you went over the better as you bounced off your seat. Now in my forties, I faced the bumpy ride with a little less joyous anticipation, but the seat proved fairly comfy and the road was tarmac, not dirt, so it wasn’t too bad at all.

Lunch at the Njombe
bus station

I’d been advised that I would arrive in time to catch the 2pm Ibu bus to Ludewa. Well, if this 2pm bus had existed, I’d have been on time for it. As it was, I found out the Ibu bus hadn’t arrived yet and wouldn’t leave until 4pm. At least this meant I was able to buy my ticket, take my time over lunch (ugali, greens and a plain omelette from the bus stand’s fast-food place), buy some fruit, stretch my legs and do some work while I waited. I would have liked to have gone for a longer walk, as I knew that by the time the bus arrived in Ludewa it would already be dark so no chance for a walk there, but lugging a heavy rucksack around plus my laptop bag wasn’t conducive to a brisk walk. And it was a good job I didn’t go, because the bus was early! (What’s going on – something in Tanzania actually happened before the scheduled time rather than an hour or so later?!! I’m still reeling from the shock.) 

This was a smaller bus and became increasingly crowded as the journey progressed and we kept taking on more passengers, even though it was standing room only. I love the way buses here double-up as delivery vehicles. Every now and then we would stop for just a few seconds to drop off a sack of something or pass an envelope, or even a loaf of bread, through the window to someone waiting at the roadside to receive it. And at bus stops there was nearly always some exchange going on – either something to pick up and take, or something to be dropped off. The road is being worked on, they are gradually surfacing it, but it’s a big job as it includes some steep mountain sections with hairpin bends. Worryingly, sections that had been finished were already suffering from debris on the road as a result of landslides – something needs to be done to shore up the steep road sides that have been dug into the hillside.

It was indeed dark but the time we arrived in Ludewa (7.45pm). On alighting at the bus stand (a dirt patch surrounded by little shops and a couple of ticket offices) I was able to buy a ticket for the next morning for the final leg of the journey from Ludewa to the village of Nsungu, which is situated on the shores of Lake Nyasa (aka Lake Malawi). This done, I headed to a guest house I have stayed in before, just a five minute walk from the bus stand, hoping that they would have a free room. They did, though only a twin room (which, confusingly, they call a ‘double’ room), which meant it was more expensive, an extortionate 15,000 Tanzanian shillings rather than just 10,000 (that’s about £5.20 rather than £3.50)! I had packed some food for tea, so I didn’t have to go out again to find something to eat. First part of the journey successfully completed.

The next morning (Thursday), I was up before dawn to catch the 6am bus. I was honoured to be given the front seat, next to the driver. Approaching and leaving the town of Ludewa, you get to enjoy some tarmac, but it’s not long before you are back on a dirt road. Once again I was amazed at how many people they seemed to be squeezing onto the bus – at one point this included over ten children on their way to school. I have no idea how they all fitted in, as I couldn’t see anything behind me because of the pile of luggage that lay between me and the rest of the passengers. We arrived in Nsungu about 8.30am, and it was lovely to find Faraja waiting for me at the roadside. We walked together to the guest house, which is close to the lakeside, where I quickly settled in before heading off to the Catholic church where we would be holding the workshop.

The blue line is my route to Umanda, while the red line is the first part of my return route, until I rejoined the original route at Njombe. The reason for taking the longer route home was due to bus availability and better roads.

Workshop #1

Erasto teaches how
to read Manda

I was pleasantly surprised to find a good number of the participants had already turned up. Often with workshops my colleagues and I are the first to arrive and things kick off pretty late, but I was impressed to find that things went more or less to time (roughly speaking, meaning we started less than an hour after the time we had said we would start, which in my experience, is quite an achievement). Many of the participants had attended a workshop I had facilitated two years previously, in which we helped them learn to read Manda and to prepare and lead simple Bible studies. It was so lovely to see familiar faces and they warmly welcomed me back. This also meant that many of them already had a good grasp of how to read Manda, so my colleagues didn’t need very long to review some of the differences between the Manda and Swahili alphabets and writing systems in order to help people transition from reading Swahili (which they will have learnt to do in school) to reading Manda. In case you are interested, one difference is the addition of two extra vowels, written ɨ and ʉ. I can’t try and describe these two sounds, as I am not very good at pronouncing them! Basically, ɨ is somewhere between the way you pronounce i and e in Swahili, and ʉ is somewhere between u and o.

My turn to teach

The participants were nearly all from local Catholic and Anglican churches, which are the two main denominations in the area, and there was a fairly even mix of men and women, with a good representation of church leaders, so this was all very encouraging. I quickly realised we had a huge range of ability in the group, from the very well-read leader of the Catholic church that was hosting us, who always had helpful contributions to make to discussions, to the somewhat off-track ideas of another church leader, to some very quiet ladies who barely spoke so it was difficult to ascertain what their level of knowledge was. I hoped the better-educated wouldn’t find the workshop too simple, the less-educated wouldn’t find it too hard, and that somehow everyone would go away feeling that the three days they had spent with us was worthwhile.

Some teaching posters

So what did we cover in the workshop? I began with a short quiz about Luke, to cover a few basics, and anyone who answered correctly got a free poster with a Manda verse on it from Luke’s gospel. (These are just simple A4 posters that we print on coloured card and sell for less than 5p!) Then my colleagues guided people in practising to read their language, so that they’d be prepared to read the Manda translation of Luke in the rest of the workshop. After this we looked at key questions we should ask ourselves when reading Scripture (when, where, who and why) and then answered those questions together for Luke. After also briefly looking at the structure of Luke, we started to dig deeper by examining four key themes in Luke: Jesus cares for the poor and oppressed, Jesus cares for people of all nations, the kingdom of God (the upside-down kingdom) and prayer. We looked at these through a mix of Bible study, small group discussions and up-front teaching. We finished our study of Luke with a Bible study on the last few verses of the final chapter, before moving into thinking about application. We discussed what aspects of Luke particularly spoke to us, and how the book and audio of Luke can be used in their homes, their churches and their community. We finished up with a chance to be creative – some composed a song based on Luke 12:34 while the rest chose a verse from Luke and wrote it out on coloured card to share with someone else. I was amazed at how quickly the music group came up with a great little tune for their song; it was a lovely way to round things off.

At the end we asked them what they had learnt. There were some encouraging responses, including (these are very brief summaries of what they said, not word-for-word quotes): “The kingdom of God that Jesus announced – now I understand what this is about”, “I’ve been touched by the importance of caring for the poor.”, “I’ve enjoyed learning the Manda language.”, “I now have a true picture of who Jesus is.”, “By studying the themes in the book of Luke, it helps see the book as a whole, it pulls this very long book together.”, “Luke shows how Jesus fulfilled the Old Testament.”, “You taught very clearly.”, “You didn’t stray into discussing a particular perspective or denominational position, but kept us on the key themes of the workshop from the Word of God.”

The weather, interesting facts and gifts

It was warm! The church we held the workshop in wasn’t too stifling, but it wasn’t exactly cool either – it was cooler to sit outside in the shade of a tree, which we did during our chai and lunch breaks. It was wonderfully refreshing to go swimming in the evenings, as the sun set over the lake and the hills of Malawi became silhouetted against the changing colours of the sky. (Apparently it’s a 4-5 hour boat ride to cross the lake to Malawi.)

By the lake

It was a rather warm walk to and from the church each day, which must have been about a mile from the guest house, but it provided a nice opportunity to chat with my colleagues. I found out that Erasto was one of the first students at the local secondary school, when it opened in 1990. At that time there were very few secondary schools around, and very few students from primary school passed their exams and entered the next level, but he was one of two from his year at school to make it. As the school was new, they were still establishing things and building. He said that one of the punishments you could be given as a student was to walk to the lake, 3-4km away, to fill buckets with water to water the newly planted coconut tree plantation belonging to the school.

I also heard that the area is somewhat known for ushirikina (which the dictionary translates as ‘superstition’ but I think has strong connotations of witchcraft), especially when it comes to people dying in the water. Maybe this is because some of the deaths seem unexplainable, so people look to supernatural reasons for the deaths. Sadly this can lead to accusations and blame against innocent people (i.e. blaming them for causing the deaths through the use of witchcraft).

On the last day of the workshop I was very touched by one older lady who brought me a gift of peanuts (which are farmed in the area) and another who gave me some cloth. The latter gift was rather awkward in that it was some cloth that she had been wearing! I had said to her how nice it was and she said she had two pieces of the same fabric, so she would give me one. Despite my protestations and the fact that she clearly understood I hadn’t paid the complement in order to be given the fabric, she still wanted to give it to me, so embarrassed and yet also warmed by her kindness, I accepted the gift with a smile, saying I would remember her every time I wore it. At the second workshop I received two more bags of peanuts, which I passed onto Erasto and Faraja, and a bag of sweet potatoes!

Church

On Sunday morning I went to the Catholic church where we had held the workshop. It was my first time to attend a Catholic service and I was pleasantly surprised. In contrast to the very loud and lively church I normally attend, it was refreshingly calm and quiet. The words of the liturgy were good and the sermon was engaging. The only problem I had was that I couldn’t participate properly, as I didn’t know the words of the liturgy and no-one had books with it in, they just knew it by heart; also kneeling to pray on the hard wooden benches was somewhat painful! At the end of the service I was fascinated by a little addition from the padre: first he talked about the importance of keeping careful accounts at home so that you can assess your living costs and work out how to use your money wisely (this came about after the church’s income and expenditure had been read out for everyone to hear), and secondly he talked about the importance of drinking plenty of clean water as they enter into the dry season. I thought it was great that he did this, a very holistic approach to ministry!

Sunday lunch

Delicious fried fish with ugali

I thought I’d easily be able to find somewhere to get lunch in the village, but the first place I tried (where our workshop food had come from) wasn’t producing food that day. I stopped to enquire at a little shop, and they very kindly got me a chair to sit on in the shade while they phoned around their various contacts to see where I could get food. They found someone close by who could rustle up some ugali and fish for me, so that is what I eventually ate, in a tiny café just a few doors down from the shop. I think the owner of the café was at a funeral, so that’s why there wasn’t any fresh food available there already, though there were left-overs from the previous day. (I’m glad they cooked me something fresh – I think eating day-old rice that hasn’t been kept in a fridge, in such a warm place as this, would just be asking for food poisoning.)

Next stop Lituhi, workshop #2

Lituhi Catholic church

Monday morning we caught the bus to Lituhi for the next workshop. I wondered what had happened to Erasto, as he wasn’t around at the time I’d been told to head to the bus stop. It turned out that he’d gone off to visit his cashew nut farm! A year and a half ago he planted five acres of cashew nut trees, so he wanted to check up on their progress; they should start to bear fruit three years after planting. So he was already on the bus that we were to catch, and we continued on together to Lituhi. It was our first time to hold a workshop there, and we were discouraged to find less than half the people we’d hoped would attend; once again they were all from Catholic and Anglican churches. We met in a meeting room at the Catholic church. The church was impressive, built around 100 years ago, on a big plot of land with lots of other parochial buildings. Built on a hill, it caught the breeze, which was a relief as I was finding the weather too warm. After the first day of the workshop was over, we went to visit the pastor of one of the other church denominations to see if we could encourage him to attend. He said he’d got the dates mixed up, and that he would be there the next day. He wasn’t, but he did send a couple of young men from his church the next day. Only one of them came back for the last day, but while the overall response from that church was disheartening, God was obviously at work in that particular young man’s life. Later someone else in the workshop passed by that church and saw that the young man was in full flow teaching Luke’s gospel, working through the Bible passages we had discussed in groups and using the same questions to get people talking! Praise God! This is such an encouraging answer to all our prayers for the workshops to bear fruit.

Studying passages from Luke together (the young man is the one
who immediately started teaching what he learnt, in his own church)

That first night in Lituhi it was hard not to wish I was back in Nsungu. The guesthouse room was small and very warm with lots of mosquitos and with loud music coming from somewhere, and the tiny en-suite bathroom was just a toilet (long-drop) and a bucket of water. No chance of a swim in the lake, as Lituhi is over an hour’s walk away from the lakeshore, though there are some beautiful views out to the lake. In fact, I found that first evening and night so hard (the loud music and heat kept me from focusing on anything, though remarkably I did manage to get a reasonable night’s sleep), that the next day I asked to move to a room on the other side of the guest house, away from the music, and was given a much bigger, quieter room.

Reading a story in Manda. (The man on the left is
the one who invited us to his home for dinner.)

On our last evening there, one of the workshop participants, who seemed to somehow be related to both of my colleagues, invited us for dinner. He was a lovely older man, full of smiles and with a strong voice – you could tell he used to be a teacher! I was really touched by his hospitality – in my experience it’s very rare to be invited to someone’s home for an evening meal, and it was a lovely evening of chatting under the incredible display of stars before going indoors to eat, while our hosts waited outside. There was a choice of three carbohydrates! Ugali made from fermented cassava (which was what Erasto chose to eat), ugali made from maize (which was what I chose) and rice (which is what Faraja chose), served with chicken (they’d kindly cooked me some without onions) and then a remarkably nice papaya for afters (in my personal opinion, papaya can taste and smell disgusting, but this was a good one). I still don’t quite understand the custom I often encounter of leaving your guests alone to eat – I asked my colleagues about it, and it seems to be something to do with wanting your guests to eat freely, without inhibition.

Heading home

Thursday morning I was up by 5.30am, after a restless night, in order to catch the 6am bus. Erasto kindly got up and walked with me to the bus stand to make sure everything would be okay. He and Faraja were staying behind to do more work – community testing the first part of Genesis (this involves checking their translation with people in the community to see if it communicates clearly and accurately in the Manda language). Four hours later, after a fairly bumpy ride and feeling sorry for the lady next to me experiencing travel sickness, we arrived in the town of Songea, where I bought a ticket for my next bus and went for a short walk to stretch my legs while I waited for it to arrive. Thankfully, the next leg of the journey was all on tarmac and we arrived in the town of Njombe about 5pm. Someone took me to a ticket office to get a ticket for the next day’s final bus ride back to Mbeya and then I found myself something to eat from a market area, made up of a long line of wooden shacks, just outside the bus stand (a chip omelette – one of my favourite Tanzanian fast-food dishes, and fruit) before walking five minutes down the road to a guest house I had been recommended. I smiled at the contrast between my room here and the rooms I’d had in in Umanda – here there was a thick blanket (which I definitely needed) compared to just sheets in Umanda (which I barely needed), the provision of warm water for having a wash (definitely welcome in the cool weather here) compared to the relief of having a wash in cool water in the warmth of Umanda, and wonderfully there was no need for a mosquito net. It’s amazing how much the climate can change within just a few hours of travelling in Tanzania, due to altitude or proximity to a large lake or the sea.

Friday morning was another horribly early start, with another five hours to endure on a bus with loud music videos that I tried not to look at, as the dancing is somewhat sensual and entirely inappropriate for the mix of ages on a bus. (It’s common to show videos on longer bus journeys – sometimes you are fortunate and get gospel choir videos, but often they are secular music videos or soap opera style dramas.) By 11am I was back in Mbeya and walking the half mile or so home from where the last bus dropped me off. Home sweet home, with so many reasons to be thankful to God for all he had done for me and through me on the trip. Thank you God.