"Authentic empowerment comes to you with God's kiss of knowledge.”

The second group of wives of Methodist pastors and evangelists just turned “Seminar” into “Holy Spirit”. These women came to Maisha na Maji came from some of the churches I have visited over the last few months. We added drying meat to our seminar at my son’s suggestion. I can’t believe how important that was for these beautiful women. John has been making it for months just because we missed having it. Doing research for the “how to dry meat” for the women with the United Nations website, we did not just give them a hand out, we turned the making of it over to them. Each morning they hung it out and covered it with net. Each night we took it in. It was hard for me to help once then let them take over.

I guess teaching kindergarten taught me that they must have ownership to really learn a new skill.

"Authentic empowerment comes to you with God's kiss of knowledge.” We also had to ask the question, "Do we have to have all this illness? Just how can we block the bacteria?"

The last lesson was looking at the pictures of healthy ways of living and seeing if it would be easy to change it or hard to change it to the healthy way. I love it when they say it would be easy to change all the things they are not doing yet; however, I had to wait to hear from John to tell me it was easy to adapt to the new healthier ways to live in their environment. I was so exhausted that I just had to go in the house to lay down and let John finish that last lesson before dinner.

After dinner the women again came to take the dried meat down but this time, they put five pieces in a bag to take home and finish drying at home. As always, when this group likes what they are learning, they praise God in song. I just love it. Joy just comes up from their toes and they move and sing and they harmonize and they take the beef down. I know they will use this wonderful way to get more protein in their families diet and not eat the whole goat when they kill it. They can't wait to tell others this skill. They sang about the meat lasting six months. They sang thanks to God. They sang Father, Father, Father. To hear their happiness you can see it on U tube at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XA_msAWaihY

Asleep at nine p.m. at what I thought was for the night, I was a very tired but a really happy camper. In a haze of sleep I heard the harmony again. Not quiet knowing if John was playing a movie, if it was a dream or if I had died and heard the angels. My mind thought it could hear slaves singing "Wade in the Water" in the southern Churches in the U.S. as they were singing a code to protect their Brothers and Sisters on the Under Ground Railroad.

I heard Dr. M.L .King, Jr. with his speeches of "Equality". I heard the pain of women from many countries that many times do not have that equality but long for it. The song I was hearing in my haze was reminiscent of the call and response of songs like the Black Churches from the 50's. There was even a pinch of Michael Jackson and the Jackson five as sung in talent shows by my students when I was a teacher in Pomona, California in the 1970's. One glimpse was of hearing Spirituals sung by the white choirs in white churches as they tried to get that soulful sound but correcting the English as they sang. In my dazed condition, all these images and sounds were swirling around in my head as if God was folding sugar into egg whites. God let me know that the thing I am watching here in Bunda, Tanzania, and the thing I am listening to is much bigger than the pain I am in or the women saying thank you or the Methodist Church and their problems or the little people in the government that are trying to stop the library. God knows that this world and universe is much more important. He is putting together something BIG. Just get on his bus or jump off. At 11:30 p.m., women wrapped in Kangas hummed and wrapped up plans with their old friends and their new friends. I watched them glide pass my window still humming softly and slipping into their clean rooms to sleep this their last night at Maisha na Maji. This time brought me a peace only God can give.

Rice in Tanzania

From Paddy to Table to Bricks

by Karen Wiggins

Rice is one of the wonderful crops around here in East Africa. As I drive from here to there through the seasons, I love watching all the hard work that happens. Growing rice is one of those things that I love to observe. Building up the earth to about two feet high into mini swimming pools to capture the rain, the women work hard in the fields even before the rains come. All women here wear dresses every day. It is sometimes two dresses. One is underneath and a piece of cloth is wrapped around their waist. Another kanga (dress-like material) is tied around her head. With all these colorful African shapes and flowers shining like Christmas tree ornaments all over the fields, I am amazed with the wonderful ease with which they bend at the waist like a clothes pin and stand so proud and graceful to a perfect posture of a model. This happens again and again in all the steps of growing rice.

Now that the walls of all the pits are made trying to look like a beautiful quilt and succeeding, we just wait for the rain to fill them. Not too much time for the women to wait in the process of making rice. This is just one of those times. When the rains come filling the pits, these same women return to plant the rice. Those I have seen are planting the shoots not seeds. This calls for them to kind of tie the bottom of their skirt and kanga up to their knees. With bare feet, they wade out with their basket on their arm full of shoots. They again bend pushing their arm down to the water planting and up to get more. I am reminded of a little toy I saw as a child that had a bird that would bob up and down with a weight on his tail retrieving toothpicks I think. The speed they have with job is fascinating. These are most always women. Some are old. Some are young, all are fast. They may be paid very little for this task but they all know this means food for the future for everyone.

The rice seems to grow very fast but this is again a waiting period. Still many come to see if all is well and the cattle or other animals are not coming and breaking down the dikes that hold the water in. Much the same as watching this process in Arkansas, but without the tools that make the work easier.

Once the rice is above the water line with a beautiful green glow, the quilt is looking even more beautiful. Workers still have to watch the rice to keep cows who also think it is beautiful and want to eat it at this stage. Birds really are not a problem yet until the rice comes. Waiting until the time for the rice comes is not a long wait now. Birds will eat the rice even before it is ready to harvest. This is when the women make scarecrows to stand in the field. Many fields have live scarecrows standing out in the paddies. These can be young boys or those same women. Within a week, some white birds that have a real appetite for rice can eat one entire field in just a week. All that work thus far would have been for nothing.

Harvest time is really busy. Still having to watch those birds, they cut off the long strands of stems and leaves with the rice on the end. They have a tarp ready for the hard work of hitting the stems on the tarp to release the rice that are still in the husks. This job looks really hard and many times you see men helping with this task. Filling the bags with this, they take it home. Almost every home and store has tarps covered with this rice in the husk drying. When it is dried, you see women with a flat basket throwing them up to let the letting the wind blow away the husks and leaving the rice in their basket. I flash to Jesus time every time I see this. This creates many mountains of husks. We know the rice will be saved in the house, sold at market, and 10% given to the church. But what about the husks.

Some go to feed chickens. Most of it will go to make rice bricks. Just add water, press into a form, let it dry and they have a yellow brick. They stack them is a way where there is space between the bricks and put fire in the middle. They do not cover it with mud like fired mud bricks. They just cook them. They look very nice and are said to be very strong.

With just a brief visit here you may get the impression that my friends are uneducated. Uneducated and brilliance can be in the same person. They may not know how to read or write, but they can still know how to solve problems.

Humbled--Just Humbled

Humbled, Just humbled

by Karen Wiggins or Mama Africa

This last week end was just a joy. Not sure why in five years it has not come to me as a need. I give sanitation and hygiene workshops for churches, health workers and even pregnant women. They were very successful but this week end was just a touch of heaven.

We are here, among other things, to grow the Methodist churches in Tanzania. I invited the wives of the ministers and lay ministers to come here and have a workshop for them, thinking that the information would be helpful for them and in-turn helpful for their village.

While I took the training for this workshop in the U.S. before we sold everything and moved to Tanzania, I laughed. The information I was learning was so simple and so well know I could not imagine how it could help anyone. I have lost count of the seminars I have given, but in each one, I have had mamas tell me that I have saved her children’s lives. Learning how to clean water, make a drink to put back water into the body when it is dehydrated, how disease is transmitted and how to block that transmission are all priceless information in third world countries. I am not laughing now.

This workshop is done in a non-threatening way sitting in a circle. Everyone is looking eye to eye and no one is better than the other. Because it is done with pictures and not print, even those who can’t read learn and think and solve problems. All talk and feel good about participating. I see even the shy ones begin to get confidence as we go.

It is always a happy and rewarding to see the eyes of the men and women who learn these simple things. When I go to a church where I see babies with flies on their face, I say to my son, we have to come here for a seminar. We do not see it in the places we give the seminar.

This seminar was very different. I knew these women were the back bone of our Methodist Churches. To continue Methodism in Tanzania, we must love these women. Having them come here for three nights and days was the best way to do it. Doing it this way is much easier than John and I to going to each village. With three days and three nights for them to get to know each other, turned out to be a very good idea and I did not have to rush. I could give them the whole lesson. I was so happy.

Not all the mamas were able to come but the ones that did learned so much. We served three meals a day. They eat one meal a day. We cleaned their rooms. They are used to cleaning their own house even with some having dirt floors. We gave them time to pray in the chapel or have a free rest time. They work all day long at home. I had no idea how wonderful this was going to be for them. I remember listening to a radio show called Queen for a day when I was little. Women were chosen Queen for a day and they were given wonderful things that they needed. This week end was far better than those gifts and prizes. They were made to feel special. They did not have to work or cook or wash or collect water. They were Queens for three days. I had no Idea where God was going with this, but it was well worth digging into our future car repair envelope to make this happen.

Sunday Morning after breakfast, we reviewed, rejoiced, and even marched with joy before we went to the Bunda Church worship.

When I went into the cottages after church, all the beds were made and the cottages were spotless. In each room I could hear each, mama say, “Thanks for my vacation.”

So Many Ways To Die!

So Many Ways To Die!

by Karen Wiggins or Mama Africa

Here we are in one of the poorest places in the world, Bunda Tanzania, Africa. In my seminar, we listed all the reasons the ladies and their family members might need to go to the doctor. This gave us an idea of the health problems of their villages. Writing them on the board, we could refer back to them later when we might come up with a solution to prevent it or to cure it later as we continue our Sanitation and Hygiene class. Looking at all the problems here on the board, I am saddened again as I think of all people here try to overcome to try to have a happy healthy life: Cholera, H.I.V./ Aids, T.B. Infections, Malaria, and other parasites--the lists go on seemingly forever.

I was called out of the class to be informed that our security guard would not be in today. His baby girl was killed when a wall in his house fell on her. I screamed and cried, “That is not on the list.” The list is enough. Just because we have such a long list, we do not get exempted from accidents. Just ask Jenni Silas. Her husband (who in an effort to avoid someone in the road as he rode his bike) fell down and was hit by a bus before he could get up a year ago. She was sitting in our class and she remembered that as well.

Amos’s little girl was not named yet. They do not name the babies right away because, “They may not stay”. His other little girl, Sussi, is just a little older. His two sons were in my English Class two years ago. Now all Amos’ family were very sad. Even with so much death here, we do not stop grieving because we are used to it. Every death hurts.

I told the class I would have to go while they ate lunch. All of the women understood why I had to go. The whole of the neighbors stop and come when a neighbor dies. They sit in the yard on rocks, in the dirt, on a log, under a tree or just anywhere. So as they waited for the fish to be ready with the ugali (corn bread dough), I drove to Amos’ house to sit on one of those rocks near his collapsed home with the other friends.

Just imagine filling a yahtzee cup full of dried beans. Throw those out on a dried plot of dirt. That is how the neighborhood planning is here. The beans are the houses and the little bit of dirt are the yards in-between the houses. The road is not next to the houses so I walk past all the neighbors greeting them yet too sad to stop and talk. I go in what I believe is a neighbor’s house and hug Amos. His whole body just shook as I held him. Going into the bedroom of this house I see the small casket that we bought. Next to it was Amos’s wife. She was unable to talk or cry or look at me. She was in shock and she just shook. Next to her was a small blanket. Someone pulled it back and it was the baby that I did not want to see. Her face was like something from pictures from the earthquake in Haiti. She had to be dug out of bricks even though the bricks were just dried mud, they were heavy enough to kill her.

Looking at the death scene I was just amazed. Amos’s old fallen house had had a room fall in a month ago. It was just an ant hill mountain looking thing of devolved bricks now. We have had so much hard rain here that the water rushing by each house made of sun dried bricks, just started devolving like sand castles when the waves come in from the bottom until the top crashes down.

Then I sat outside, thinking of it all. As I look around, all the women tried to think of funny things to whisper about. Some called my name. “Mama Africa” I greeted them and went back to my thoughts. Paul (our worker that came with me) broke the rules and came to sit with me near the women and away from the men. He was explaining as if I did not know, how people here co-operate with each other. Thinking how wonderful that is with maybe 75 people here just being here for Amos and his wife, my thoughts were interrupted by crowds of people screaming, “Wiizi, Wiizi!” A train of people running, screaming and snaking thorough the houses and through the wake of people. They were following a young man who stole something. Some of the people at Amos’ even got up to chase. I pray that they will not kill the thief.

I had to get back to my seminar, but Amos understood. I gave him our car and driver to go to bury his youngest daughter. Taking the taxi back home, I know too well where I live. I live in Bunda Tanzania in East Africa near Lake Victoria.

Why do they have nothing and have so much hope and so many have so much and seem to have no hope?

Methodists in Tanzania

Lamadi or Ramadi 25 April 2010

Looking so much like the country of of my childhood in West Texas as we pass the Serengeti driving from Bunda to our church in Lamadi, I am filled with joy as I watch grazing Zebra and Wildebeest. This joy reminds me of the joy of watching the brief moment that the Dogwood’s bloom and sparkle under the shade of larger trees. This is something we used to see as we drove to Elkins and Winslow from Fayetteville, Arkansas, when my husband was just starting his ministry. I always feel that when I get to see some of God’s wonders, he has just given me a zawati (gift). I always feel blessed to be able to see it and recognize it as a gift. This was just one of those wonderful close times with my Lord.

Heading for Lamadi

Some tribes use r for l. Other tribes use l for r. Therefore Lamadi has a sign saying Lamadi on one end of the town and Ramadi on the other side. Passing the large cabbages sold on the road under a tree, we turn left onto a path between shops winding around down town Lamadi to a school that is being used for the Lamadi Methodist Church. They are trying to raise money to build a church of their own like so many Methodist churches.

Having Church with our Lamadi friends

Arriving about 10:00 only a few were there and we begin our greetings which is a must in East Africa. “Welcome, How are you? How is your family? How is your town?” Looking around for the little girl I met last year, not finding her I wondered how she might look now. This church is made up of many orphaned children and widows. Many are rejected by many in the town. When Minister Daniel came yesterday to our house we gave him a soccer ball and a pump for it. He has had youth joining the church and they want to have a soccer team. I explained to them about a church that tried that and let the kids practice without adult supervision and how they fought over the ball and left the church. He promised to always keep the watch over the team. It looked as if he really had that interest. I told them I wanted to see a game sometime. That made all the youth very happy.

Looking around

I get a wonderful sense of the presence of the Holy Spirit when I walk into the churches even it they are held in schools. With six windows on each side of the room, each window had one kanga (A piece of cloth with a saying on it). All four corners were tied to the security bar at the edge of the window. The middle was tied so it had two big triangles to look like a butterfly. This is often the decorations in our churches. As I walk in I am hit with the usual smells of Tanzania. I could detect musty fire smell, urine, Skunk from the choo, and citrus. Citrus? I wondered. That is new. Mamas put receiving blankets on the babies as diapers. We had five babies, twenty young children, fifteen young adults and twenty adults. Later, I saw the little boy with the orange. Ah ha! Citrus

The songs

The songs were wonderful. They had no drums or keyboard. Just the clapping of the hands that sounded like a wonderful percussion band. How do they do it? I looked over

and saw one young man clapping on his Bible making a base drum sound. One boy was clapping double time. One was clapping every fourth beat. It was just beautiful. I was amazed as I always am with the Holy Spirit that made them all so happy. This is one of the poorest areas of the country and Tanzania is one of the poorest countries in Africa. Halliluya! Praise the Lord! Amen! In every song you could hear the word Tumaini! (Hope) Why do they have nothing and have so much hope and so many have so much and seem to have no hope? Make a joyful noise unto the Lord! Indeed they did.

A group of 6 that attends Bible Study each week

Mchumgaji Daniel introduced the group of youth that come each week to study the Bible. They stood very proud and tall as he honored them. Five boys and one girl were very pleased that he had them stand. We are glad to give Bibles for this purpose when the ministers ask for them. Minister Daniel’s, wife is also a lay Minister. I am sure she helps with the Bible Study.

Nursing Mothers in Church.

One lady walked in with a beautiful print dress with big flowers of bright pink and lime green. Walking beside her was a baby girl also in a long dress of that same Oprah green color. This child was not more than seven months old, yet she was walking. I think they learn to walk early here to keep from having to sit in the dirt. I have children just that young run out to wave at me as I drive by. They see their older brothers and sisters do it and the babies just sit up early and walk early.

In Church you will see the mamas nurse their babies when ever they need it as this beautiful woman did today. They do it with no shame and with all the love a mother can have. This culture does not look upon the breast as a sex object. It is for a baby’s nourishment only. When the mothers die of Malaria or AIDS, it is the loss of this nourishment that that puts the child in risk. It is the first two years of a baby’s life without a mother that is difficult. That is why we help with the Musoma Children’s home. They keep the orphans for two years and send them back to the extended family. The babies are cared for in a way that the families can not do for that two years.

Reflecting past the Zebras and Wildebeest going back home

Stopping to buy three Cabbage at the place where you can get the biggest Cabbages around, I was able to reflect on the Sprit filled day in Lamadi. God is so good.

Methodists in Tanzania

Lamadi or Ramadi 25 April 2010

Looking so much like the country of of my childhood in West Texas as we pass the Serengeti driving from Bunda to our church in Lamadi, I am filled with joy as I watch grazing Zebra and Wildebeest. This joy reminds me of the joy of watching the brief moment that the Dogwood’s bloom and sparkle under the shade of larger trees. This is something we used to see as we drove to Elkins and Winslow from Fayetteville, Arkansas, when my husband was just starting his ministry. I always feel that when I get to see some of God’s wonders, he has just given me a zawati (gift). I always feel blessed to be able to see it and recognize it as a gift. This was just one of those wonderful close times with my Lord.

Heading for Lamadi

Some tribes use r for l. Other tribes use l for r. Therefore Lamadi has a sign saying Lamadi on one end of the town and Ramadi on the other side. Passing the large cabbages sold on the road under a tree, we turn left onto a path between shops winding around down town Lamadi to a school that is being used for the Lamadi Methodist Church. They are trying to raise money to build a church of their own like so many Methodist churches.

Having Church with our Lamadi friends

Arriving about 10:00 only a few were there and we begin our greetings which is a must in East Africa. “Welcome, How are you? How is your family? How is your town?” Looking around for the little girl I met last year, not finding her I wondered how she might look now. This church is made up of many orphaned children and widows. Many are rejected by many in the town. When Minister Daniel came yesterday to our house we gave him a soccer ball and a pump for it. He has had youth joining the church and they want to have a soccer team. I explained to them about a church that tried that and let the kids practice without adult supervision and how they fought over the ball and left the church. He promised to always keep the watch over the team. It looked as if he really had that interest. I told them I wanted to see a game sometime. That made all the youth very happy.

Looking around

I get a wonderful sense of the presence of the Holy Spirit when I walk into the churches even it they are held in schools. With six windows on each side of the room, each window had one kanga (A piece of cloth with a saying on it). All four corners were tied to the security bar at the edge of the window. The middle was tied so it had two big triangles to look like a butterfly. This is often the decorations in our churches. As I walk in I am hit with the usual smells of Tanzania. I could detect musty fire smell, urine, Skunk from the choo, and citrus. Citrus? I wondered. That is new. Mamas put receiving blankets on the babies as diapers. We had five babies, twenty young children, fifteen young adults and twenty adults. Later, I saw the little boy with the orange. Ah ha! Citrus

The songs

The songs were wonderful. They had no drums or keyboard. Just the clapping of the hands that sounded like a wonderful percussion band. How do they do it? I looked over

and saw one young man clapping on his Bible making a base drum sound. One boy was clapping double time. One was clapping every fourth beat. It was just beautiful. I was amazed as I always am with the Holy Spirit that made them all so happy. This is one of the poorest areas of the country and Tanzania is one of the poorest countries in Africa. Halliluya! Praise the Lord! Amen! In every song you could hear the word Tumaini! (Hope) Why do they have nothing and have so much hope and so many have so much and seem to have no hope? Make a joyful noise unto the Lord! Indeed they did.

A group of 6 that attends Bible Study each week

Mchumgaji Daniel introduced the group of youth that come each week to study the Bible. They stood very proud and tall as he honored them. Five boys and one girl were very pleased that he had them stand. We are glad to give Bibles for this purpose when the ministers ask for them. Minister Daniel’s, wife is also a lay Minister. I am sure she helps with the Bible Study.

Nursing Mothers in Church.

One lady walked in with a beautiful print dress with big flowers of bright pink and lime green. Walking beside her was a baby girl also in a long dress of that same Oprah green color. This child was not more than seven months old, yet she was walking. I think they learn to walk early here to keep from having to sit in the dirt. I have children just that young run out to wave at me as I drive by. They see their older brothers and sisters do it and the babies just sit up early and walk early.

In Church you will see the mamas nurse their babies when ever they need it as this beautiful woman did today. They do it with no shame and with all the love a mother can have. This culture does not look upon the breast as a sex object. It is for a baby’s nourishment only. When the mothers die of Malaria or AIDS, it is the loss of this nourishment that that puts the child in risk. It is the first two years of a baby’s life without a mother that is difficult. That is why we help with the Musoma Children’s home. They keep the orphans for two years and send them back to the extended family. The babies are cared for in a way that the families can not do for that two years.

Reflecting past the Zebras and Wildebeest going back home

Stopping to buy three Cabbage at the place where you can get the biggest Cabbages around, I was able to reflect on the Sprit filled day in Lamadi. God is so good.

Why do they have nothing and have so much hope and so many have so much and seem to have no hope?

Methodists in Tanzania

Lamadi or Ramadi 25 April 2010

Looking so much like the country of of my childhood in West Texas as we pass the Serengeti driving from Bunda to our church in Lamadi, I am filled with joy as I watch grazing Zebra and Wildebeest. This joy reminds me of the joy of watching the brief moment that the Dogwood’s bloom and sparkle under the shade of larger trees. This is something we used to see as we drove to Elkins and Winslow from Fayetteville, Arkansas, when my husband was just starting his ministry. I always feel that when I get to see some of God’s wonders, he has just given me a zawati (gift). I always feel blessed to be able to see it and recognize it as a gift. This was just one of those wonderful close times with my Lord.

Heading for Lamadi

Some tribes use r for l. Other tribes use l for r. Therefore Lamadi has a sign saying Lamadi on one end of the town and Ramadi on the other side. Passing the large cabbages sold on the road under a tree, we turn left onto a path between shops winding around down town Lamadi to a school that is being used for the Lamadi Methodist Church. They are trying to raise money to build a church of their own like so many Methodist churches.

Having Church with our Lamadi friends

Arriving about 10:00 only a few were there and we begin our greetings which is a must in East Africa. “Welcome, How are you? How is your family? How is your town?” Looking around for the little girl I met last year, not finding her I wondered how she might look now. This church is made up of many orphaned children and widows. Many are rejected by many in the town. When Minister Daniel came yesterday to our house we gave him a soccer ball and a pump for it. He has had youth joining the church and they want to have a soccer team. I explained to them about a church that tried that and let the kids practice without adult supervision and how they fought over the ball and left the church. He promised to always keep the watch over the team. It looked as if he really had that interest. I told them I wanted to see a game sometime. That made all the youth very happy.

Looking around

I get a wonderful sense of the presence of the Holy Spirit when I walk into the churches even it they are held in schools. With six windows on each side of the room, each window had one kanga (A piece of cloth with a saying on it). All four corners were tied to the security bar at the edge of the window. The middle was tied so it had two big triangles to look like a butterfly. This is often the decorations in our churches. As I walk in I am hit with the usual smells of Tanzania. I could detect musty fire smell, urine, Skunk from the choo, and citrus. Citrus? I wondered. That is new. Mamas put receiving blankets on the babies as diapers. We had five babies, twenty young children, fifteen young adults and twenty adults. Later, I saw the little boy with the orange. Ah ha! Citrus

The songs

The songs were wonderful. They had no drums or keyboard. Just the clapping of the hands that sounded like a wonderful percussion band. How do they do it? I looked over

and saw one young man clapping on his Bible making a base drum sound. One boy was clapping double time. One was clapping every fourth beat. It was just beautiful. I was amazed as I always am with the Holy Spirit that made them all so happy. This is one of the poorest areas of the country and Tanzania is one of the poorest countries in Africa. Halliluya! Praise the Lord! Amen! In every song you could hear the word Tumaini! (Hope) Why do they have nothing and have so much hope and so many have so much and seem to have no hope? Make a joyful noise unto the Lord! Indeed they did.

A group of 6 that attends Bible Study each week

Mchumgaji Daniel introduced the group of youth that come each week to study the Bible. They stood very proud and tall as he honored them. Five boys and one girl were very pleased that he had them stand. We are glad to give Bibles for this purpose when the ministers ask for them. Minister Daniel’s, wife is also a lay Minister. I am sure she helps with the Bible Study.

Nursing Mothers in Church.

One lady walked in with a beautiful print dress with big flowers of bright pink and lime green. Walking beside her was a baby girl also in a long dress of that same Oprah green color. This child was not more than seven months old, yet she was walking. I think they learn to walk early here to keep from having to sit in the dirt. I have children just that young run out to wave at me as I drive by. They see their older brothers and sisters do it and the babies just sit up early and walk early.

In Church you will see the mamas nurse their babies when ever they need it as this beautiful woman did today. They do it with no shame and with all the love a mother can have. This culture does not look upon the breast as a sex object. It is for a baby’s nourishment only. When the mothers die of Malaria or AIDS, it is the loss of this nourishment that that puts the child in risk. It is the first two years of a baby’s life without a mother that is difficult. That is why we help with the Musoma Children’s home. They keep the orphans for two years and send them back to the extended family. The babies are cared for in a way that the families can not do for that two years.

Reflecting past the Zebras and Wildebeest going back home

Stopping to buy three Cabbage at the place where you can get the biggest Cabbages around, I was able to reflect on the Sprit filled day in Lamadi. God is so good.

Lantern to Laptop by Karen Wiggins

This was something I wrote when we first moved to Bunda Tanzania.

Lantern to Laptop by Karen Wiggins

Having been without electricity for two days, we were able to use the reserve battery on our laptop at the same time using our kerosene lantern to get around the house. As I saw our coffee table, it was so symbolic of the use of so many methods of living for 2000 years that I needed to record all the things that I have been noticing--old methods and new methods working side by side. The picture that I took of our lantern and laptop represented some of the observations that I had been collecting in my mind.

In the States, we use the old methods and tools to decorate our homes or put in museums. Here they use both old and new. No one even thinks it is odd. Just as the people wear the best clothing that they own, they use the best tools that they can afford.

Many refer to Africa as the cradle of civilization. Bunda, Tanzania, our home on the edge of the Serengeti and near the shores of Lake Victoria, is evidence that this is true. Africa is a place that has traditions dating back over 2000 years. We have been lucky enough to see examples of all of these old traditions and new skills being used today in Tanzania at the same time.

Farming

Behind our back fence I was able to watch one man making a large arc with his heavy hoe, his muscles rippled and the hoe come down on the hard earth with a force that I could feel with my feet on the other side of the fence. As I watched for a while, I could feel the rhythm and harmony with the sounds around him. Birds, roosters and goats seemed to harmonize with his steady rhythm.

He would make that full arc seven times in seven seconds and then he would rest for a second. This was repeated again and again. The smell of new earth was heavy in the air as he finished near sundown. He had hoed about one forth of an acre and he smiled with the pride of accomplishment as he came home. Later that night he did some push ups, cooked his own dinner, ate and began to guard our home. He was one with the earth. That night he was planning for another day to systematically plant each seed in the row and not just scattering seeds on stones and paths. We find in the World Book on our laptop that the hoe was used in 3500 B.C.

Some times as we turn a corner we watch a young boy plowing his garden for his family using a yoke and two or four oxen just like the ones talked about in the Bible. In another minute, we see another young man driving his tractor to his land to prepare a crop. We are able to watch all the methods of farming all through the ages using human resources, capital resources and natural resources.

Walking

Driving from Musoma 30 miles home to Bunda we watch hundreds of people walking (with flip flops or bare feet) carrying something to sell or something that they bought in the market. I often see Christ and Paul and the Disciples as they did the same. Washing each other’s feet when we go home reminds us of Christ washing the disciples feet . Our feet were dirty even with shoes and socks on and we had driven the car--not walked. The humbling of the foot washing act is made real for us on a daily basis.

Clothing

The women , old and young, come out of a hut with no electricity and no floor dressed liked models in two pieces of beautiful cloth called Kangas. They looked graceful as if they just walked out on a runway at a fashion show in New York or Paris. The cloth is clean, it appears to have been ironed, and it is wrapped in many ways. One way they wear it is the way we see Mother Mary depicted with Baby Jesus. The cloth seems to just be hanging from the top of her head and falls gently on either side of her shoulders. I cannot help but see Mary whipping that blue cloth from her head and putting Jesus on her back as she was busy cooking or walking just as I see the women doing here.

Communication

I can’t go but a few minutes without seeing a Bible verse being acted out. At the same time today is made evident when I chat with my sons on my computer in real time yet being thousands of miles away. We are just using land lines now and the internet connection is very, very slow; however we are due for wireless broadband next March. At that time we will be able to talk and see them on camera in real time. As I sit and find out about my son’s day, I am listening to drums in the background practicing for the upcoming elections in Tanzania and watching a man from the Masai tribe answering his cell phone. I am learning Kiswahili now, but I doubt I will be able to learn communication by drum. Many villages had cell phones before they ever had land lines to phones. In ten years, the ownership of cell phones went from 2000 to 2,000,000. Technology leaps are huge.

Building material

Building material is another across-the-ages observation that we see here. Sun-dried bricks are the material that we used for the learning center and the church in our compound. This is the cheapest way to go rather than mud and sticks. Man has been using the sun dried brick method since 6000 B.C. No material for building here is imported. All the bricks are hand made. No machines make bricks in this part of Tanzania. The handmade bricks that are being used to build our house are fired. We see the mounds of bricks everywhere that have mud on the outside to seal the bricks inside. There is an arch that allows the wood to be placed inside this mound of bricks. When the fire is lit, an awful smell rises and penetrates your nasal cavity to let you know that the bricks are now becoming stronger and will not dissolve in the rain. Because we are using fired brick for our house, we will not have to cover them with cement to protect them from the weather as we did with the learning center and the church. With the knowledge of the fired bricks being used the same way in 6000 B.C. my mind quickly envisions the old woman looking for her lost coins in her brick home in the fifteenth chapter of Luke. I also see Jesus knocking at the door of a home much like mine will be. Government buildings are made of cement blocks. They, too, are built on the spot. Not in a factory and not imported.

Delivery Methods

As we build each building in our compound, which will be used to train the Methodist evangelists of Tanzania, we have a three-day watering period to make sure that the concrete sets well. We found water, and we have a well, but it does not bring the water to each construction site. Women in the neighborhood are paid to carry the water in five gallon buckets on their heads to the newest construction and splash the water on the wet cement. This method of delivery is used the most. We see women and children on the side of the road caring various things in buckets and in baskets and sometimes just bundled up with the cloth balanced on their head. When I see the large beautiful clay pots being carried on their heads, I am reminded of the woman at the well.

If we buy a chair in town and they say they will deliver it, it comes in a hand cart pulled by a young man. To get firewood or charcoal to the market, these are precariously tied on the backs of their bicycles and taken to market in another town. As a bicycle carrying a wide load of sticks was passing a lady bringing water home in a jug on her head with a sleeping baby snuggled on her back, we were passing the bicycle and avoiding the donkey on the other side of the road in our four-wheel-drive. All of this was on the same page in Tanzania in 2005. Many people have their own donkey. They make pouches to hold goods on either side of the donkey. I feel the need to place palm leaves in front of the donkey like Jesus was riding into Jerusalem. Whether I am delirious from the malaria that I keep getting or I really see the likeness to Bible times, this place keeps me close to Jesus

.

Education

The oral language of Jesus time is also connected to today's education. Parables and stories to make a point are used here daily. Tanzania as well as other countries in Africa have a book famine. To watch children trying to learn to read and trying to learn math without a book is like watching Jesus and the disciples trying to teach with only the oral story. It must be working here because Tanzania has a larger percentage of literate adults than Arkansas. We may have the person here who can solve poverty or cure cancer, but if we can’t stop the book famine we will never know. I am trying to open a public library here in Bunda. They don’t even know what a public library is. I will have to have classes to teach the use of a public library. Go to booksforafrica.org to find out how to help books come to Africa. We will have a container come here in January to start our first library ever in Bunda.

In the dark, with the lantern shining on our laptop, Charles and I will be watching Jesus’ time go by while our time is going by in this, our last adventure. We just wanted you to take a peek through our eyes with us. Charles and I are so very happy here. We appreciate your prayers.

Karen(Lusby) and Charles Wiggins

About Charles and Karen Wiggins:

Charles attended Boston University from 1988 to 1992 where he received his Master of Divinity degree in Theology, Philosophy, and Ethics. He also has a Master of Arts in English from California State Polytechnic University and completed his studies for a Ph.D. in British literature from the University of Arkansas. Instead of writing his dissertation, Charles entered seminary in Boston. Charles and

Karen received their undergraduate degrees from McMurry where she was in T.I.P. and Charles was in Ko Sari. Karen taught for 40 years before retiring to be a missionary. Charles has been a minister for 20 years. Their goal is to create a Learning Center complex for the new Methodist Church of Tanzania.

With 40 churches and 4 ministers, Charles is called to teach the lay ministers who are carrying the bulk of the load at the churches. They are buying a bicycle for each of the lay ministers at the rate of one a month. The first seminar was this month. Karen will be giving lessons in sanitation and hygiene with her training from LifeWater of California in January. She will also be active in getting the books to Bunda and starting the first public library there.

Through the United Methodist Church and the One Book Foundation construction groups of 12 to 15 people come to Bunda to build churches and the buildings in the complex, as well as medical/dental teams, well drilling teams, and sanitation and hygiene training. In the complex, the Bunda Methodist Church is completed, the learning center completed, and the house and the fence are going up now with the first dorm room begun today. God is good--all the time.

Karen and Charles are volunteer missionaries under the General Board of Global Ministries and the Arkansas Conference of the United Methodist Church and the foundation that Charles started in Fayetteville.

THE ONE BOOK FOUNDATION

1910 Old Wire Road

Fayetteville, Arkansas 72703

They love e-mail!

Karen’s e-mail is mamaafrica@mac.com

Charles’ e-mail is revwigg@mac.com

Bricks an Economic Microcosm

Bricks: the Sign of Progress and Prosperity in Bunda, Tanzania,

and an Economic Microcosm.

by Karen Wiggins

We get to see things as if we were flies on the fence which seems to be a violation of the privacy of the people here in the Lake Region of Tanzania, but everything here is out in the open. Many times what I see is just too wonderful to be left alone.  Making bricks is one of those wonders.  My neighbors are wonderful, hard working people.  This last month, we have watched again as last year in the dry season, the making of bricks which is a large family and neighbor's endeavor  to make enough money to get by another year. Now, I must explain that this making bricks is a very exhausting job.  All ages of people work at this day and night.  Even a small 4 year-old boy who swings a huge, heavy,  hoe--as fast and as hard as the legendary John Henry swung his hammer--all the while little Maira is singing his working song--and stopping only to pull his pants back up which inch downward a bit with every swing of his hoe..

I see women, men and children bringing buckets of water from the well to pour on the hard dirt.  It is almost as if they make a brick out of a brick because the dirt here is so hard.  This shows that a family has to have access to water to make bricks.  Here, the people near Lake Victoria or those that have access to a well are the only ones that can make bricks in the dry season.  Stirring the mud with a hoe and their feet makes it the consistency of rice pudding or ugali here.  The mud is wet but not drippy.  It will hold its shape if you roll it in a ball.  When it is of this density, men and women shovel this mixture into the molds made of wood nailed into a square divided into two rectangular, open shapes.  Our group has two molds that make two bricks each.  The mud loses some of the water when they punch the mud in the mold to squeeze and rake it off  at the top with a smooth hand.  If the mud is close by,  some can do this in just 30 seconds.  Soon they just pull the mold up and off, leaving the wet bricks to dry even more in a large flat area of the yard.  People go around that group of bricks with a large machete, cutting off the brick from the earth at just the right time and removing any imperfections--leaving a perfect rectangular prism ready for more drying on its end and later stacked within the kiln.  Both men and women and some children do all of the jobs. There are jobs of carrying the water, making mud, forming the bricks, cutting the bricks, stacking the bricks, throwing the bricks, and catching the bricks. The neighbor workers and family members get paid 1,000 shillings (about a dollar) a day by the owner of the home. No matter what the women are doing, they always wear a dress.  Sometimes the pay is by the day. Sometimes, it is by number of bricks.  Sometimes they are paid by the job. The owner of the house gets paid for the bricks sold.

The workers here are happy about the work because they cannot afford to build bricks at their own homes. Without good roads, and industry, the infrastructure does not bring many jobs. Usually it is just grow what you eat to keep your family alive.

Talking sometimes or whistling or singing, humming, and even telling jokes and laughing, the work gets done at a brisk speed.   We even heard them quietly working at night by the moonlight.  When it is day and the dangerously hot sun or "jua mkali" is high overhead, it is time to sit under a tree and rest.  As I write, some are still throwing mud--sealing the one finished hive of bricks.  They, too, will soon rest as it gets hotter.  As we just sent over three good papayas for the tree sitting time, we find big smiles all around.  That mud thrown on the outside seals the kiln or huge oven made of the bricks to be fired. The bricks are not put into a kiln, they become the kiln.  In some cases this structure is two or three stories high and we like to plan to leave on a safari on the day it is to be burned--it is not a good smell or "nuka" as they say here. 

At one point in the morning, we were watching a young four-year-old boy named Maira.  His little baby sister was crying her eyes out as she was held by a five-year-old girl unsuccessfully calming the little baby.  Maira was trying his hardest to distract the baby by singing and dancing.  Mom was making bricks and was slowing down because of all this crying.  She soon stopped as did Maira's singing.  Mom smiled at the baby and dusted herself off before reaching for her baby and cooing to her.  She took her baby and dusted the child's head off because brick making is a very dusty job.  Now that his sister was happy and not crying, Maira just dug in the mud with a huge hoe and his song changed to his working song accentuated with a tennis "ugh!"  Looking back at his mom who was pulling her kanga tight around her waist taking her young child and sitting on nothing but her heals as they do so easily here, Maira could concentrate on his work.  Talking and smiling to her youngest child Ephinniss then pulled the now very happy child close to her breasts and begin feeding her.  Nursing and cooing so contently now at one point the baby pulled her head away from her mom and looked upside down at the men mixing mud as if to say, "She is all mine now and you cannot use her for anything."  Back to nursing again she went, knowing she had been born in what seemed to her the richest part of the world.  Now fed and happy, the mother loved her once more and sat her down in the dirt as she went back to work.  The baby will stay right there until her mom bends at the waist, flips her baby onto her back, throws a kanga over baby and her back, tucks the kanga under the baby's bottom, and before she could pull it under one shoulder and tie it over the other shoulder, that baby was asleep.  Now work goes on with the little heartbeat going on mom's back as it once did a few months ago on her front.

Following the example of his whistling uncle, Maira pulled up a heavy, wet brick only up to his waist and he started walking parallel to our fence.  My husband was sitting on the porch watching him with admiration.  He walked 10 yards whistling and carrying that brick that was actually resting on his tummy as he walked holding it with both hands.  He stopped and turned to Charles, holding that brick on his bent knees, he smiled and waved with his other hand.  Turning his head back down the path the whistling began as he walked another 10 yards. It was quite a nice song. He again stopped but kept on whistling, placing his heavy brick again on his bent knees, he reached down to pull his pants up continuing to walk and whistle another 10 yards.  Just as his sister, he believes life is wonderful, and he is blessed to be a part of it.  Being poor is relative.  If he sees himself next to a very rich person I am not sure he would think that they were different in any way. Having a support group and love all around him, he is very content with his life.  When does he start feeling poor? Here it seems to be when he finds out that the primary school has not taught him enough English for him to pass a test in English to allow him to get into Secondary School. I believe that that is where the understanding of the split between rich and poor begins. 

Will there be enough people in Bunda to buy the bricks?  Supply and demand will soon be known after the bricks are completed.  Many homes are in the process of being built of bricks.  It seems that more and more people are building in Bunda.  These neighbors who built the bricks are counting on even more building going on here in the very poor part of a very poor country in Africa.  These families are showing a tremendous amount of faith.  Judging by the homes that are up six bricks high, they should have no trouble selling the bricks;  however we have brick hives all over town.  Unlike the moneyed countries with large banks and mortgage loans, our people do a job to get money and they buy bricks and cement and rocks. They just began building their home.  When the money runs out, they quit  building.  They do this year after year until the house is completed. Then they just move in. No Banks--No Loans--No Debts!  We have many homes that have just begun.  I have to say, they may be on to something.

Back to making bricks:  When all the bricks are dry, the special people that know how to stack them come. One person throws the brick to another person on the top of the beginning tower. Top person quickly places it in just the right place and reaches up to grab the next brick that is in the air.  I know they must hurt all over at night after a day of playing a game of brick tossing and catching. The bricks are stacked like a tower making sure air or smoke can get in between each brick to another. The bricks become the kiln.  On the very bottom layer of bricks two compartments are left empty for the placement of wood to burn when the whole tower of bricks is ready and sealed with mud on the outside. Straw is on top so in case it rains the bricks will not turn back into mud.  Dirt is thrown two stories high onto the straw when it is time to burn the bricks.  Seeing a man get a shovelful of dirt and heave it up that high was amazing.  We see some of these towers when something went wrong and they just left the tower alone and grass started growing on top.   Friends have told us that sometimes no one buys bricks because the owner was arrogant.  No one wants to buy bricks from someone that is arrogant.  I know other countries mix straw in the mud in their bricks.  Well, they say here adding straw in the brick makes them break with the heat.  I do not know.  I think this is the oldest way to make bricks;  however, it only came to Bunda 20 years ago.  Knowing that bricks were made this way in the time of Jesus, I just must say:  "Brilliant, Just Brilliant!"  We see so many trades that are done just as just as the people in the Bible.  Even the dhows in Lake Victoria are built just like the one Jesus was in.

Building with these bricks is another story.  They cement over the inside and outside of the bricks to make the house stronger. 

Right now trucks with big sisal logs and other tree logs are being delivered to burn the bricks. Wood is so hard to get.  This is one of the reasons for us to sell solar cookers and the Bio-sand Filters.  Both cut down on the use of charcoal.  No one is allowed to cut down trees, yet the people still find trees in a barren places to make and sell charcoal.  How else can the people cook?  We do have some lumber yards for making furniture and doors and windows.  Wood is so scarce that it is just really expensive. Enough Mninga wood to make a door is 150,000 Tsh and Mtunda is 90,000 Tsh.  This place where I live now was a heavy forest in the '50s.  Now it only has shrubs. 

After listening to them quietly work all night and one hive being lit to begin the burning process and the other neighbor still making bricks, we awake to see them working very fast as if they have some sort of time limit to make.  As we ask, this morning, it seems to be the thought that it will rain today.  One large rain would kill all the weeks worth of work that has taken place.  Without a cloud in the sky and no sign of rain (we do not get the weather channel here), all the people seem to think that it will rain today.  Juliana seems to agree and she wants them to hurry.  She has land with a small shack on it where she is living now and plans to buy some of these bricks so she can have a house one day.  All is woven together in this community with its own economy.  This is just a snap shot of the economy of the world really. I wish we could all understand.  Bunda is a economic microcosm. 

Weather was not the reason for the quick speed that occurred this morning.  It seems that they mixed so much mud last night that they must hurry and make bricks before the morning sun dries out that mud.  If it does dry before they mold it, they will have to do all the mud making over that they did last night.

When the our young women U.S. visitors were here, they would eat their dinner really fast and run over to help make bricks and play with the children.  What a joy. The American director of "Tears of the Sun", said that "If you get the red dirt of Africa on your feet, you will have Africa in your heart forever."  I say, "If you look at the possibility shown in the eye of an African child, your heart must find a way to help educate them."

One must  have money to make bricks. You must have:  Water source, Money to pay workers, Money to buy wood to burn, Land to make bricks, Money to put nourishment back into the now stripped soil so you can have a garden when the rains come again. However, some make sun dried bricks (no firing) and build homes with that.  They will wash away in a few years. 

As I write, that four-year-old boy just started singing one of his songs.  It is now a call and response song.  You have to laugh.  That precious little boy sings something and all the adults respond.  If he keeps that up, we will have to put him through college. Oh, Dear!  Me! Charles already walked over to give him some candy.   That little boy has no idea how rich he really is.

"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.  Let him step to the music he hears, however measured or far away."  Henry David Thoreau

God's Animals

We were blessed with a trip to see animals on July 1, 2009, in the Serengeti National Park.  For eleven years, in southern California in the 1970's and '80's, I took my class to the L.A. zoo.  I knew just what to do.  I would tell the kids to hurry when we entered the zoo and follow the signs to Africa.  If we did not rush, we would not make it to the African animals.  We did the best fast-walk-without-running to the last and best exhibit of animals...AFRICA!

Now that I live in Tanzania, I love the African animals because it seems as if everything is the same as they have been from the beginning of time.  When the environment is the same and the animals are free and doing the same things as they have done for thousands of years, one feels as if one is experiencing something wonderful on this planet.

It was unusual this trip in the Serengeti in that the animals were all so close to the roads.  A group of giraffes came up to the car and then crossed in front of the car.  They were my favorite in the zoo. Now I just don't have favorites.  It is the whole that is my favorite.

At one point my view was just spellbound. No need for binoculars. It was right in front of my eyes.  It was as if all the animals got the memo to meet at this one old tree and act naturally.  In the huge old tree, cleaning himself like a little house cat, was a leopard.  Around the base of the tree were families of elephants of all different ages eating grass and scratching their backs on that old tree.  Baby elephants were gently patting their moms with their trunks as if to ask if it were time to nurse now.  Old female elephants were helping direct the babies.  All of this was right next to us, just a few meters away.  In the near background, behind the tree, were zebras showing their blur of stripes for interest all across the close horizon.  Just had to soak this up, and feel I experienced the whole of the marvels here. 

The drama occurred at the hippo pool at noon.  When we arrived we saw a herd of

zebras mulling around. Some were lined up.  Some were eating the sparse grass.  Some were just skittishing around.  Some were just resting their heads on the backs of others.  I said to myself how unique it is that their fingerprint is all over their body.

A select group of twenty zebras were standing at the edge of a small  hippo pool.  One caller zebra was watching the hippos that were around the corner of the "L" shaped pond sound asleep.  He would call out very loudly somewhat like a mad horse.  At that time the chosen twenty zebra's ran splashing in and as they drank, they kept running in place to stir up the water.  This sounded like our old generator. I kept looking around for what was making that noise.  The drinking continued for almost three minutes until the caller zebra sounded again at which time all twenty turned around and ran up the slow slanting beach for safety.  Not long out of the water, the caller sounded again and all the choice zebras went back in.  This happened many times until a few just stopped believing that worry-wart of a caller and kept drinking. 

This was repeated so many times that it made me want to stay right there watching this all day.  This excitement was happening in the middle of the Serengeti not far from the Visitors Center.  I so wanted to see if some of the other zebras got a chance to play this game.  I so wanted to see if the sleepy hippos got tired of all the water churning and just ate one.  But we live in Bunda and all our money goes to our running our mission.  We can have a safari once every four years. We only take a day for the safari. We drive twenty minutes to the Ndabaka Gate on the west side of the Serengeti, look at the animals, and drive back out before six o'clock at night. This time we took our son Keith from the U.S. and our son John who works here with our mission. 

What a joy it was to observe all these things together in just one day.   Many of the animals were right on the road.  We saw the end of the wildebeest migration, thousands of zebras, five families of wart hogs. six herds of elephants, thirty giraffes, many Tompson Gazelles, Topi, Impalas and much, much more. I especially liked the old elephants with all their wrinkles showing the many experiences they have had.  Do you think God showed me that with an understanding that I can might better accept the aging of my own skin? 

How blessed we have been to experience this holy place. How sad we will be if we ever lose it because of not taking care of our planet. 

Hakuna Matatizo!  Hakuna Vita!  Hakuna Haraka!

(no worries, no war, and no hurry)

God's Animals

We were blessed with a trip to see animals on July 1, 2009, in the Serengeti National Park.  For eleven years, in southern California in the 1970's and '80's, I took my class to the L.A. zoo.  I knew just what to do.  I would tell the kids to hurry when we entered the zoo and follow the signs to Africa.  If we did not rush, we would not make it to the African animals.  We did the best fast-walk-without-running to the last and best exhibit of animals...AFRICA!

Now that I live in Tanzania, I love the African animals because it seems as if everything is the same as they have been from the beginning of time.  When the environment is the same and the animals are free and doing the same things as they have done for thousands of years, one feels as if one is experiencing something wonderful on this planet.

It was unusual this trip in the Serengeti in that the animals were all so close to the roads.  A group of giraffes came up to the car and then crossed in front of the car.  They were my favorite in the zoo. Now I just don't have favorites.  It is the whole that is my favorite.

At one point my view was just spellbound. No need for binoculars. It was right in front of my eyes.  It was as if all the animals got the memo to meet at this one old tree and act naturally.  In the huge old tree, cleaning himself like a little house cat, was a leopard.

Around the base of the tree were families of elephants of all different ages eating grass and scratching their backs on that old tree.  Baby elephants were gently patting their moms with their trunks as if to ask if it were time to nurse now.  Old female elephants were helping direct the babies.  All of this was right next to us, just a few meters away.  In the near background, behind the tree, were zebras showing their blur of stripes for interest all across the close horizon.  Just had to soak this up, and feel I experienced the whole of the marvels here. 

The drama occurred at the hippo pool at noon.  When we arrived we saw a herd of

zebras mulling around. Some were lined up.  Some were eating the sparse grass.  Some were just skittishing around.  Some were just resting their heads on the backs of others.  I said to myself how unique it is that their fingerprint is all over their body.

A select group of twenty zebras were standing at the edge of a small  hippo pool.  One caller zebra was watching the hippos that were around the corner of the "L" shaped pond sound asleep.  He would call out very loudly somewhat like a mad horse.  At that time the chosen twenty zebra's ran splashing in and as they drank, they kept running in place to stir up the water.  This sounded like our old generator. I kept looking around for what was making that noise.  The drinking continued for almost three minutes until the caller zebra sounded again at which time all twenty turned around and ran up the slow slanting beach for safety.  Not long out of the water, the caller sounded again and all the choice zebras went back in.  This happened many times until a few just stopped believing that worry-wart of a caller and kept drinking. 

This was repeated so many times that it made me want to stay right there watching this all day.  This excitement was happening in the middle of the Serengeti not far from the Visitors Center.  I so wanted to see if some of the other zebras got a chance to play this game.  I so wanted to see if the sleepy hippos got tired of all the water churning and just ate one.  But we live in Bunda and all our money goes to our running our mission.  We can have a safari once every four years. We only take a day for the safari. We drive twenty minutes to the Ndabaka Gate on the west side of the Serengeti, look at the animals, and drive back out before six o'clock at night. This time we took our son Keith from the U.S. and our son John who works here with our mission. 

What a joy it was to observe all these things together in just one day.   Many of the animals were right on the road.  We saw the end of the wildebeest migration, thousands of zebras, five families of wart hogs. six herds of elephants, thirty giraffes, many Tompson Gazelles, Topi, Impalas and much, much more. I especially liked the old elephants with all their wrinkles showing the many experiences they have had.  Do you think God showed me that with an understanding that I can might better accept the aging of my own skin? 

How blessed we have been to experience this holy place. How sad we will be if we ever lose it because of not taking care of our planet. 

Hakuna Matatizo!  Hakuna Vita!  Hakuna Haraka!

(no worries, no war, and no hurry)