10- of English students, Malawian travels, and life in Africa

Greetings to all from the land of Africa.  Tanzania.  I know to many of you the name Tanzania means nothing.  A place you've heard about, a place from which you've seen pictures.  Obviously, you're getting this update, so somehow you have a connection to this beautiful country. :)  But for me, Tanzania is becoming home.  I love this place, and the more I pour my heart into it, the more I love it.  I find myself loving the people- so diverse in their personalities, their opinions, their goals- yet similar in so many ways.  I have friends here.  People I have laughed with, cried over, yearned for, argued with, loved deeply, and many who in turn, have loved me back.

I love this country.  It's a diverse land, but the valley in which I call home is flat.  Off in the distance, the mountains tower on the outskirts of the valley and some of us yearn to go and find out what is in them.  Around us, in the valley, rainy season has come.  LIFE in the form of fresh green plants pop out of practically every available piece of sandy ground- ground that just a few weeks ago looked utterly impossible to host seeds of life.

Zack and Warren have spent the last three months teaching English to an energetic group of young people, and it's been so exciting to watch the Word of God being taught to them every day and their hearts becoming accountable to the truth they hear.  One of them has already come to the end of himself and saw his own wretchedness and believe in the saving blood of Jesus!  What a joy it is to watch God working.

Several weeks ago, one of the students went home in demand to her father's wishes, and we decided to go visit her the following Saturday.  We set out that morning, trekking through the lonely wilderness as the morning sun became more and more intense.  We received a warm welcome and enjoyed a few hours there, catching up with Roida, meeting her family, and eating delicious ugali and goat (I ate my first liver and heart and found out they're absolutely delectable!). Zack informed us that the real reason Roida's dad pulled her out of school was due to lodging issues with Mraja (our next door guesthouse owner) and that he didn't know where else she could stay.  We all looked at each other and I exclaimed, "well if lodging is the only problem, that's stupid! We have plenty of room at our house!"  And so it was, when we left Roida's house, she was with us.  A week later, Mraja declared that he was closing his guesthouse and his family was all moving out to their farms for a few months.  Roida's best friend, Rehema, was still living there and was left without a place to stay as well.  So now we've been blessed with two 14 year old girls- and I am absolutely loving having them around!  I've been stretching my Swahili, gained two "daughters" (they call me Mama and I call them my children:), grin at their girlish, dramatic giggles as they get ready to go to bed at night, and dread this weekend when they graduate from the course and go home again.  I'm sure we'll be seeing more of them though!

Today I came to the realization that it's halfway through December, which means the holiday/wintery season is in full swing in America.  Teresa and I have been trying to recreate the atmosphere (with cranberry and peppermint scented candles, peppermint and eggnog chocolate and coffee's, and even some Christmas music thrown in the mix), but somehow it's hard to remember that this actually is the holiday season.  When you're sweating in intense sun and heat and nothing ever makes you think "December", its hard to remember the season you were so attached to in America! :)

Three weeks ago, Rachel and Rebecca Oberholtzer returned from their furlough.  It's been very good to have them back and integrated into the work here again.  Their parents visited for a week and when they were ready to head to America, Trudy joined them to leave for her furlough. Rachel and Beka escorted them to town, so for three days I was "alone" in the village, without any of the other girls to depend on. It was an incredibly stretching experience- running the clinic and just doing normal life with no one else to rely on for help in Swahili. It was the best thing that could have happened to me at this point, and even tho I worried myself half sick over how it was all going to go, I was blessed to see how God was so much bigger then my fears and language limitations. 

The day Rachel and Beka returned, Teresa got very sick, and we began immediately treating for malaria. About midnight that night I was deep in the routines of switching out cold washcloths, keeping clean sheets on hand, checking temperatures, and making sure she got her meds on time, when Tim came in for the thermometer because Sheryl was running a high temperature as well. The next day was a blur as Teresa was too sick to do anything for herself and Sheryl wasn't around at all as she fought off her bout of malaria. I did what I could to keep the household running, the children quiet so Teresa could rest, while worrying my heart out about Teresa- all on about 3 hours of sleep. As the evening shadows began to fall, I sat by Teresa's bed once more trying to decide if I should just go ahead and start an IV on her.  I decided to give her a little more time before running over to my clinic to get the supplies, and was very thankful when her temperature finally began dropping and she was able to keep liquids in her. As the rest of us gathered for prayer meeting that evening, I brewed myself mug of strong coffee in hopes it would wake my foggy, exhausted brain, but it didn't help very well. 

The next few days flew by as Teresa continued needing a lot care. Saturday she was feeling much better, so I slipped off to have lunch with Rachel and Beka at our favorite little restaurant in Kilabuni. While I was there, Sheryl called me to say that Teresa's temperature was going back up again and she was obviously beginning another cycle of malaria.  By this point she had completed her medication regimen and so we needed to come up with something else, and something stronger to kick the stubborn strain.  I was back to doing all I could to keep her temperature down while dear Beka ran out to the medicine stores to get a new supply of malaria medication.  Teresa also asked for prayer and an anointing, so we had a sweet time of sharing and prayer together that evening.  Over the next few days, it was exciting to see her slowly begin to gain her strength back, although we butted heads a few times when I thought she really needs to take it more easy and she was determined she could get up and do something! :)

Teresa needed to renew her visa, so this past Saturday, we headed out of Ivuna on the early morning bus.  The bus had us to Mlowo in a little under 3 hours- an incredible record breaker!  We got out to our mission house here in Mbeya by 11 and had plenty of time to rest and gain strength for continuing our trip to Malawi. It's been amazing to have time to rest, read, journal, and skype to the states and SEE people who mean a lot to me.  We traveled to Malawi on Sunday and back on Monday.  Hours of hopping from this public transport bus to that one, walking through the borders and getting our passports stamped, and riding on the back of bicycles flying down the Malawian road. Sitting by the lake drinking in the water and sunshine, eating meat and cheese sent from the States and our precious little bag of Doritos we found at the Malawian grocery store, strange conversations with an overly friendly groundskeeper, the electricity going off in the middle of the night causing us to wake up hot and grumpy in our mosquito net with the fan off...and then we were off, headed back the way we came the day before. The bike taxi, the public transport bus, using Malawian kwacha for the last time, and we were back on the Tanzanian side of the border.  Another 3-4 hour bus ride brought us safely back to Mbeya. This morning we did some shopping and tomorrow morning we need to go back down to the market and stock up on produce to take back to the village for our team.  Lord willing, we plan to catch a lorry to Ivuna tomorrow. 

Exciting things have been happening in Ivuna lately.  A Bible class in our own neighborhood has begun twice a week, and it's thrilling to watch Tim and Sheryl's porch fill with neighbors who are hearing the word of God.  Our neighbor boy, Basilio, has been facing his own real need of Jesus' blood and the fact that he can't live a victorious life alone.  Pray for him and for Zack as he has been putting a lot of effort into Bas' life.

Sad things have been happening as well, including a lot of fighting and wife beating.  My closest friend in the neighborhood, Mama Glanti, was beaten dreadfully by her husband the other night.  We found her laying motionless on her bed the next afternoon in pitiful condition.  Her one eye had a big gash across the top and was dreadfully swollen.  She was wounded and bleeding physically and emotionally, and my heart cried with hers as I flopped beside her on her mattress and gently rubbed her back for awhile.  She's a dear woman, so tender and sensitive, and has shown signs of soon being ripe for the kingdom of God.  I dream of the day when she will be born again and have begun to pray the same for her husband.  God delights in working out the impossible, and I'm asking for the impossible with this one.

Well, I suppose I have rambled enough for one time.  I think I'll close this update with this one last thought that has been seriously convicting me lately. 

               "the loaves that Jesus used to feed thousands had to first be broken"

I want to be used by Jesus.  I want my life to feed thousands.  Am I willing to be broken in order to make the kind of difference I long to make?  Are you wiling?

-kim

9- Life in Ivuna

"Beware in your prayers, above everything else, of limiting God; not only by unbelief, but by thinking that you know what He can do.  Expect unexpected things 'above all that we ask or think'.  -Andrew Murray

I've been pondering recently on who God really is, and have been challenged to my very core to pursue knowing HIM in a reality much deeper and fuller then I've yet known.  To lay aside the ideas and limits I've unconsciously placed on Him and to allow Him to impress upon my heart and soul who He is. How can I make Him known unless I know Him intimately?  The quote above has been on my heart a lot as I consider these things.  I don't know what He can do, but yet I am so quick to place Him in a box and limit His power in my life and the lives around me.  He's been taking me at my word and allowing some very purging experiences in my life lately.  I'm thankful for the opportunities to grow in holiness and to be more like my Savior, and am learning to embrace the painfulness of the process as well.

The cool breezes of the beginning of rainy season sweep through the open window and out the window on the other side of the house.  It's utterly refreshing, this rain is: refreshing, invigorating, and downright cheerful.  It's been over a month since we had our 2 amazing downpours, and dry season seemed to have come back for an endless duration.  We were battling the dust storms again, and I was despairing in keeping anything clean.  But last night after a day full of wind, dust, and heat...the first welcome sprinkles were heard on the roof.  By this morning, there was evidence of a good night of rain, and the air was so clear and everything smelled so very good.   I'm nursing a nasty head cold, currently sipping on some type of "dawa-ish" (medicine-ish) tea that Teresa gave me to try, and hoping that my head clears up soon and energy returns.

An area that has really been burdening my heart recently is the rampant polygamy among our people and the surrounding tribes.  A scenario in the clinic recently has majorly reignited the burden and righteous anger I feel in regards to it... One of my first prenatal patients this past Friday was a beautiful, young Sukuma girl named Quimba.  She was merely 16, young, fresh, and absolutely stunning.  She had a beautiful smile that only peeked out on a rare occasion when she dared show me a glimpse. What maddened me was her 'husband'- a man practically old enough to be her grandfather.  She obviously hated his presence and avoided him like the plague.  When I asked her to lie down on the bed for her check-up, she refused to do so until we finally asked him to leave the room.  When he was in the room, he treated her like a useless piece trash.  An object.  Which, I am positive, is exactly how she is treated by him all the time.  As I did a prenatal on her firstborn, and found the precious, life-giving heartbeat, I just wanted to weep. It's child abuse, and in the States, it would be completely reportable.  But here?  There's nothing I can do! Nothing.  I tried hard, in my limited language ability and cultural knowledge, to show Quimba love and care, but ached in my innermost being to do more.  To rescue her and to show her even more love.  

It happens repeatedly...rarely do you have a situation where there is only one wife.  And if there is, the chances that the husband is not being faithful is incredibly high.  When we need to ask my patients questions like that, I watch their eyes closely for hints of feeling.  What I see is a lifeless sorrow.  They've given up- they know it's going to happen, why even fight it?  The first wives know they'll eventually be replaced or added on to by younger women, and the younger wives don't have a reason to believe they'll be the last.  It's a vicious cycle and I see the pain.  The hurt.  Oh that God would raise up men in this valley who would love HIM with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength; and would turn and love their wives as the Bible commands.  What a difference it would make.

Today I wasn't feeling extremely perky with my head cold, and partway through the afternoon began feeling a bit housebound.  Granted, I had spent the morning over at the clinic, but that didn't really make a big difference.  I bumped around the house for awhile- cleaned a little, sprayed de-roaching spray in the choo (bathroom) and then watched as the deranged insects ballisticly began pouring out of every available crevice and crack.  I came back inside and started this update but was much too antzy to sit inside drinking hot tea and feeling all lonely, so I got up and went to buy maandazi (an unsweetened doughnut) from our friends who have been frying them in Kilabuni these days. Once I got out there, Zanobi was only finishing forming all the maandazi and Joyce was making them ugali and fish to eat, so they made me eat a fish first- even tho I insisted I wasn't hungry.  When the oil was hot over the fire, Zanobi called me over to help fry them- particularly because I told him yesterday that he should teach me how to fry maandazi.  It's a hot job, laboring over the wood fire and huge wok-type frying pan, but it was so much fun and a wonderful change from the normal pace.  Also a definite way to get people's attention- "WHAT? The Mzungu is working?? You can fry/cook maandazi?!"  I had my fill of maandazi in the process- nothing better then a piping hot one fresh from the oil.  I tried not to think about all the nasty things oil does to your body upon ingesting it. :)  By the time the entire batch was finished, I figured I better head home as I hadn't brought my phone, or told Trudy where I was headed.  I met several of the secondary school girls (probably age 16-18) and made friends with them.  With my growing Swahili and their small knowledge of English, we managed to communicate quite well and they invited me to come hang out with them some more.  It would be amazing language practice, as well as a wonderful opportunity to get involved in their lives, so I plan to do that.  By this time, Trudy had fried yummy looking pancakes, but I was stuffed from my maandazi feast and regretfully had to decline.  I told her I'd be glad to eat my share tomorrow morning.  But before another hour had passed, 5 neighbor ladies and one of our neighbor boy friends happened to pop in and were thrilled to help us finish our pancakes.  No question of what to do with the leftovers tonight!   

I love being out and surrounded by people, but sometimes its hard to make myself go.   The language barriers are still very real, and I, being me, like to talk and find it incredible frustrating when I can't express myself.  That can work two ways: 1, make me try harder then ever to build my knowledge and vocabulary so as to be able to talk or 2, make me hole up inside- scared to even try.  The more I get out and practice, the easier it becomes to do more.  Not to mention it's much less lonely.

Tim and Sheryl are gone on a 10th anniversary trip this week and dear, faithful Teresa is doing a wonderful job caring for their 4 children and keeping the house.  I often find myself over there in the afternoons and/or evenings- popping in to help with something or just to be a bit of emotional adult support for Teresa. I read my Swahili Bible and look up words in the dictionary while perched on their couch watching the children play.  They leave for furlough in January, and my heart aches at the mere thought.  Teresa's become an incredibly dear friend to me and I shall miss her tremendously.  Or, as our dear African friends say..."nitamkumbuka sana, SANA!"(literally translated: I shall remember/miss her much, MUCH!)

I forgot to mention an update on Mele in my last update.  I wrote about her 2 updates ago and her freedom from demon possession.  A few weeks ago, she suddenly left and returned to the area where some other of her family is from.  We have not heard from her since.  We wonder how she's doing and we continue to pray for her, and pray that God will direct her life and acquaintances to allow her to continue to find truth and light in Jesus.

We look forward to the return of our dear Rachel and Rebecca Oberholtzer, as well as their parents who are coming for a visit, on Sunday! After 3 1/2 months, it will be very good to have them reenter our team.  Our neighbors are extremely excited and are anxiously awaiting Sunday.

God bless each one.  May His peace be yours today as you walk closely to His side.