Great book

Can you tell I copied this from Amazon?!  Sorry, you can't actually click to look inside from here...

A while ago Andrew's dad recommended a book to us, Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand.  We thought that it sounded pretty good, so Andrew ordered it from Amazon and had it shipped all the way around the world.  He's not usually a speed reader so when it took him only a few days to finish, I thought, "That book is either really good or he accidentally ordered the large print edition!"  Upon finishing it, he announced it was one of the top 10 books he'd ever read in his life, so that seemed to point towards the former reason for finishing it so quickly.

A couple weeks later I started it, and last night I read the final pages.  Wow.  I think it is the best-written biography I've ever read!  It was so good I want to name my next pet after the guy about whom the book is written (you might recall I have a thing for naming animals after people whom I admire).  Tonight I'm going to be very sad that I can't go home and read more.  That is the worst part about reading a good book - when you finish it, it is like saying good-bye to a dear friend.

So if you're looking for a Christmas gift for someone who enjoys reading or if you're wondering what your next book should be, we highly recommend Unbroken!  (And if you're wanting two great books to read, Seabiscuit by the same author is also fabulous.)

Door-to-door salesman

Sometimes in the afternoon on a weekend day we'll hear "Hodi!  Hodi!" in front of our house.  In Tanzania, saying "hodi" is the equivalent of ringing a doorbell.  Usually we moan and whine and shuffle to the gate to see who is there.  We've had people come by selling fish and baskets, people looking for work, and people asking for money for all sorts of needs like school fees and funerals.  So when we saw a man carrying things and setting them up on display by leaning them against our car, we sighed and went out the door, prepared to explain that we aren't really interested in buying anything.

When we saw his paintings, though, we suddenly realized that this guy was pretty good!  Recognizing that he would be a great illustrator for literacy books, we got his name, number, and people group so we could contact him later.  Since both of us liked his work and we have some empty walls in our house that are begging for decor, we started discussing together which one we'd like to get.  Because Andrew and I were speaking to each other in English and were obviously debating something amongst ourselves, he drew the conclusion that we liked his work but were debating the price.  Without us even asking, he lowered the price on his paintings!  We chose the one pictured above and have hung it in our living room.

A little excitement came about when we went inside the house to get the money to pay him and he spotted a large snake under our car.  It disappeared, but he and Andrew tried their best to find it to kill it.  I hid myself elsewhere, as snakes aren't really my thing.  At all.  Door-to-door salesmen aren't really my thing either, most of the time, but it worked out quite well this past weekend!

Mowing the Lawn

Cutting grass

Sweeping cut grass and leaves

 We don't exactly have a lawnmower here, but we do have grass that needs to be cut regularly.  How does that work, you might wonder.  What we have in place of a machine is a piece of metal about three feet long that is bent a bit for its last six inches.  Those six inches are sharpened and voila!  A lawnmower!  Cutting grass with this implement is a bit beyond our skill set, so we hire someone to come to our house every couple weeks to whack it all down for us.

Since the grass is not tidily collected in a lawnmower bag, Andrew does this part of the task.  With a broom made of stiff dried grass and a stick for a handle, he sweeps our yard to collect all the cut grass and leaves that have fallen off our trees.  It's quite the task, but our yard looks very nice afterwards!

And the disciples gathered in the upper... rock?

Rocks off the coast of Lukuba Island

From the vantage point of on top of a large rock, you can see the surrounding rocky terrain

In both Luke and Acts, there are several verses that say the disciples gathered in an upper room.  Jita people don't build multi-level homes, so it was quite the challenge for the Jita translators to figure out what word to use for an upstairs room.  They finally decided to use the word for a big rock resting on top of another large rock.  Houses with several stories might be scarce among the Jita, but big rocks are all over their land, as you can see in these pictures.  A unique feature of the topography of this area of Tanzania is the very large rocks, many of them resting on top of each other.  So it might seem a little strange to say that the disciples gathered in the upper rock for their last supper with Jesus, but to a Jita reader, this is something they can picture quite readily.

Coca-Cola - it's everywhere you want to be



 Visa's slogan might be "it's everywhere you want to be," but let me tell you, Visa has not quite yet reached the roadside shops where I buy things here in Musoma!  There are no Burger Kings or McDonalds in the entire country of Tanzania, and Wal-Mart hasn't opened yet around here, but you know what is everywhere I've ever been in the world?  Coca-Cola.  I've done a fair bit of traveling around the planet and there's only one thing I've seen everywhere I've ever been - Coke.  I heard (from someone somewhere - this might be a rumor) that the guy who invented Coca-Cola wanted anyone, no matter where in the world they were, to be able to get a Coke to drink if they wanted one.  I think he succeeded!

Sodas are pretty important in Tanzanian culture.  No gathering is complete without sodas being offered to all!  At events with special guests, the way to show that they are special is to give them two sodas (or even three if they are very honored) instead of the usual one.  I never drank much soda before coming to Tanzania, but it's become a fairly regular part of life here because it's rude to turn one down when it's offered.  And since it's not safe to drink the water, bottled soda is a very good option for what to drink when out and about.

We have some interesting kinds of soda here that aren't available in the States.  From left to right in the picture: Sparletta Stoney Tangawizi (Sparletta is a brand made by Coca-Cola) is a very strong ginger drink.  Take small sips and drink at your own risk!  I love it, but it isn't for everyone.

Fanta Pineapple is part of what I like to call the "Fanta Family", a Coca-Cola branch of fruity sodas.  There are lots of flavors, some better than others: blackcurrant, passion, pine nut, pineapple, and orange.  Orange is the most popular and it is second only to Coke itself in the places I've been in Africa.  Andrew likes pineapple, and passion is my favorite.

Krest Bitter Lemon is, you guessed it, a soda made by Coca-Cola.  Krest drinks are only 300ml and most sodas here are 350ml, but they cost the same amount.  I guess Krest is Coke's high end drink line or something.  Anyway, bitter lemon is kind of like bitter fizzy lemonade.  It actually has a tiny bit of quinine in it, which is what gives it a distinctive sharp flavor.  Kind of like the ginger drink, bitter lemon is not for everyone, but is beloved by some.

Fanta Passion is the fourth soda in line.

Coca-Cola the king of sodas is last in line.  It tastes a wee bit different here because it's made with a different kind of sugar than in the States and it's in a bottle instead of a can (I honestly think this makes a difference).  I think it's better - I am not a big Coke fan, but I like the East African version better than the US kind.

Other kinds available in town but not pictured: Sprite (the third most popular drink after Coke and Fanta Orange), Sparletta Citrus, the other Fanta flavors, Coke Light, Krest Ginger Ale, Krest Tonic Water, Krest Soda Water, Pepsi, and very rarely 7-Up and Mountain Dew.

So come on out to visit us and we'll share some bottles of soda with you!  And maybe like me, you'll be someone who called it pop previously in life and you'll change.  I never said "soda" in my life till coming here, but since the Swahili word is "soda" and it's just what everyone says, I got in the habit.

Serving God

Something I (Misha) was thinking about the other day is that if I were here in Tanzania to serve the translators, I wouldn’t be here. As much as I sometimes really enjoy them, sometimes they drive me absolutely crazy. After all, they are a bunch of sinners, and sinners and their sins can be pretty annoying. (I’m sure I drive them crazy at times, too, since I’m also a sinner who sins.) I have my moments when I’d like to fire them all. (Side note: I don’t have the authority to fire them and wouldn’t actually do it even if I did; I’m just saying that there are times when I wish I could.)


Something I knew before I came here is that cross-cultural relationships are difficult. The longer I stay here, the more I realize how true that is. The translators and I have our fair share of comical misunderstandings that leave us all laughing, and we also suffer through some painful episodes that could have been avoided if we were quicker to realize that the problem is one of cross-cultural miscommunication and not us intentionally hurting one another. Over the past couple years we’ve wasted a lot of energy getting upset with each other over cross-cultural misunderstandings.

So when I was thinking that my purpose here is not to serve the translators, I thought, “The Scripture we’re translating is for ALL the people of these language groups, so really it is these large groups that I’m here to serve.” But that idea quickly let me down. Sometimes if I meet a Zanaki person and tell them that I’m working to help translate the Bible into the Zanaki language they get quite excited and are appreciative of this work. But a lot of the time they don’t really care. After all, many of them are not believers, and why would a non-Christian start celebrating scripture translation all of a sudden? And some of them don’t really see the point of translating it into Zanaki, either because they don’t value scripture or they don’t value their own language. So if I were trying to encourage myself to persevere because of serving these Bibleless people groups, well, that would last about a day before I lost heart!

As for me being here to serve Wycliffe Bible Translators or the Uganda-Tanzania Branch of SIL, yes, I would hope my being here would be of service to those organizations, but that’s not my reason for what I do. Organizations and businesses, even Christian missions, let you down. They are run by imperfect people and without a doubt will fail you at some time or other.

I’m here in Tanzania because God has called me to be here and because I’m serving him. When it comes right down to it, my reason for being here actually has nothing to do with me believing in the value of mother-tongue scripture, my work with the translators, or a desire to strengthen indigenous churches. It’s about God. I’m here to obey God and serve him. If some good comes out of my being here, that’s just a bonus. If he’d like to use me to bless people with his Word in their languages, that’s great, but that’s not why I’m here. Out of obedience to him I will try to serve the translators and other people around me and my mission organization, but if I let that be my motivation for service, I’m going to run dry on motivation pretty soon. Only God can replenish me every morning to do his work!

Flood!

This morning we woke up at about 3:00am to the sound of rain pounding against the windows.  It had rained a significant amount the day before, so the ground was already quite drenched.  We were not surprised to find that the electricity was out when we got up in the morning.  Andrew left early for work (not much to do at home without hot water or Internet) in hopes that the generator might be working at the office.  I stayed home, since I'm still sick and supposed to be resting.  We hoped that the rain would stop soon because we were expecting guests on the afternoon plane, and because Musoma has a dirt runway, the plane skips landing here if it is very wet.

The rain only got harder and I started to become concerned about the drips coming from the ceiling - the roof was obviously leaking quite badly.  But before I could get too worried about the small streams pouring down from the ceiling, I became very worried when I glanced out the front window and saw a mighty brown river rushing through our front gate!  Our front door is level with the ground - there are no steps up into our house, and the door does not seal tight against the concrete floor.  Suddenly, water started streaming in under the door and flooding through the dining room and living room and pouring down the two stairs into the bedroom!

I ran to the door leading to the back porch and was relieved to see the water go that direction, where I knew it wouldn't cause too much damage.  I grabbed electronics and Christmas cards off the floor, snatched towels out of the closet and tried to stop the water from coming in under the door and prevent it from going into the bedroom.  I called Andrew in a panic and asked him to come home and help.  I called our landlord and let him know we had a flood situation.  And then I went a little crazy and couldn't figure out what to do for a bit, but finally figured out I needed to move the couch and then start bailing out the bedroom to try to save the bed from sure disaster if the water level rose too high down there.

Andrew managed to get home (we live down a very long dirt road with several small, broken-down bridges barely holding parts of it together, so this was a dangerous challenge) and Holly, our dear friend and neighbor, came over to help.  We mopped, scooped, and used towels to get all the water and mud out.  It never did stop raining until 3:30 in the afternoon!  I can't believe how much water got in the house and how much work it took to get it all back out again!

Much to our surprise, the electricity returned in the evening and nothing in our house seems to be permanently damaged.  A few towels are much worse for the wear and a pillow might have to be discarded, but nothing major was ruined.  We are very thankful for God protecting us and our house and for keeping the damage minimal.  The yard will take a while to recover, but no trees fell and if it's sunny for a few days, everything will dry out okay.

Malaria

Some people bring back keychains, coasters, and postcards as their vacation souvenirs.  I decided to do things on a bigger scale and brought back malaria with me.  When I started shivering at work yesterday evening and developed a horrible headache, I got a bit suspicious that something wasn't quite right.  One is not supposed to shiver in Tanzania and I'm not prone to headaches.  Sure enough, I then got muscle and bone aches and my fever continued all night.  This morning I went to a clinic in town and had them check my blood, which confirmed that I do indeed have malaria.  It takes 7-14 days after being bitten by an infected mosquito before developing symptoms, so I most definitely got it while on vacation, since I was away that entire time period.

I find that there are a few misconceptions about malaria.  The last time I had malaria, I think some friends in the States thought I was near death, because we always hear statistics about how many Africans die of malaria every year.  Yes, malaria CAN be deadly, but that's only if you don't get treated.  So while I don't want to discount that many people, especially children, die of malaria every year around here, only a small percentage of the people who get it die from it.

Also, it's not every mosquito that carries malaria.  One the females of one species of mosquito are even able to carry it, and they have to bite an infected person first.  Despite using bug spray every evening on our trip, I still got a lot of bites, so I can't say I'm too shocked to have gotten sick.  Mosquitoes just really like me!  It seems like I get a lot more bites than other people do.  I'm just so sweet, they can't resist me...

Malaria is actually very easy to diagnose and treat.  It's nice in a way that the medicine is just a three-day series of pills and that one starts feeling better pretty soon after taking them.  Some diseases take you out for a long time and the recovery is slow, but with malaria you can go from feeling absolutely horrible - fever, aches all over your body, exhausted, and a killer headache - to feeling quite normal in just a couple days if you get the correct pills.  There are lots of different malaria medications, but some are more effective than others.  I went for the top of the line best drugs when I bought them this morning and they cost me just under $2.00.  The test cost about the same amount, so at least while malaria hurts my body a lot, it's not hurting my wallet too much!

So I feel pretty crummy right now, but I'm pretty sure that I'll be doing a lot better by tomorrow and I think I'll be able to go to work on Monday.  Malaria is nasty, but short-lived.

Coming or going?

Clockwise around the table: Andre - translation consultant in training, me - Jita translation advisor, Tom - translation consultant, Neema - Jita translator, Magoma - Jita translator, Magesa - Jita translator

Last week and this week I have been involved in the consultant check of Jita Acts 1-14.  Well, we hope to get all the way through chapter 14!  An exciting side note is that this is the first consultant check being done in our new building.

Today we encountered an interesting problem in Acts 10:33a.  It's one of those half-verses that doesn't have anything particularly theological in it, so it didn't seem likely to have any translation issues.  The context is that Cornelius is talking to Peter and explaining to him about being visited by an angel telling him to summon Peter, and how he had done so.  In the New Living Translation, it says: "So I sent for you at once, and it was good of you to come."  Pretty boring, hey?  Well, maybe you'll notice something interesting in the Jita translation, which I've translated into English here: "So this is the reason I told people to come call you, and you have done well to come."

Read it again, just in case you missed it the first time.  Do you see it?  It's that "I told people to come call you" bit in there.  How can Cornelius, who is at his own home at this point in the story, talk about sending messengers to go on a journey of three days to go fetch Peter, say "to COME call you"?  It doesn't really make sense in English, but in Jita, it sounds just fine.  Because Cornelius is talking to Peter himself, it's "come".  In Jita, if he said "go" in this context, it would mean that it was someone other than Peter who had been called.  Cool, hey?

The consultant and I both thought the translators had simply gotten confused and messed up by writing "come" instead of "go", but when they explained it, it reminded me once again of the value of having mother-tongue translators!  There is no way someone who is not Jita could have possibly translated that verb correctly, but since they are doing it in their own language, it sounds just right.

Holly is coming!

Holly and me in October 2007 - four years ago!

Holly Higgins is coming to Musoma tomorrow!  (Side note: I wanted to put a nice, more recent picture of Holly up here, but somehow it worked out that all I have is a lot of candid shots that, while cute in their own way, Holly would not appreciate me posting for the world to see...  So anyway, here we are four years ago.  This picture was posed on some stairs - Holly is about a foot shorter than I am.)

Holly and I lived together from July 2007 to July 2008, when I went back to the States for six months.  She took care of the house and cats in my absence, then we lived together again from January 2009 to May 2009, at which time it was her turn to go back to North America for a while.  We met up at my wedding that July (she was a bridesmaid) and then in January 2010 Andrew and I visited her in Langley, BC, where she was attending grad school (at Trinity Western University, the same grad school I went to).  She came out to Tanzania for a couple months to do research for her Masters thesis (which she recently successfully defended!), and is now coming here for a four-month stretch.  She has to return back to the States because she's getting married in February!  Then later in 2012 she and her husband will come back to Tanzania together to live here long-term.

You might recall from previous posts that the house in which Andrew and I are currently living is next-door to the house where Holly and I used to live.  Well, guess where Holly's going to be living when she arrives?  That's right - in the same house she and I used to share!  We may not be able to be housemates anymore since I'm now married and she's about to be, but we'll be about as close as it's possible to get without actually living together.  I'm so excited to have a good friend as my next-door neighbor!

The last of the first

This elderly man, pictured at the Ikoma Luke dedication, was one of the very first Ikoma believers.  The Ikoma people all followed their traditional religion, but this man and a few others heard about Jesus and believed.  He became a pastor with the Mennonite church and planted churches in several Ikoma villages.  For years he worked to reach his people with the gospel and to start local churches.

Eventually, all of the other first believers died.  This man is now the only remaining one from that original group.  When he arrived at the Ikoma Luke dedication, he was ushered to the front of the church to sit in an honored position (and a comfortable chair).

One of my (Misha's) jobs during the dedication was to give copies of Ikoma Luke to the important guests sitting at the head table.  When I handed the bright blue copy of Luke to this elderly Ikoma man, I was sad that none of the other first believers had lived to see this moment.  But I was also happy that at least one of that group was there to see Scripture in his mother tongue.  After his years of work to preach the gospel among the Ikoma, I hope he was pleased to see God's Word in the Ikoma language for the first time ever and think that now the churches he planted can read about God in Ikoma, and maybe they can reach even more people!

Shadrack

At 9pm on Thursday evening I received two text messages on my phone.  The first one said, “I’ve been accepted at a teaching college.  Please call me so we can talk.”  The second one said, “I need to depart tomorrow morning because it’s in the Iringa Region.”  They were both from Shadrack.

Shadrack is the young guy who helped me with my Swahili after completing language school.  He became a good friend as we spent two or three days a week practicing conversation and studying vocabulary.

Before we met, Shadrack had completed Form 4 education, which is equivalent to high school in the States.  He has been trying to get accepted into a school and trying to accumulate the necessary funds to make it possible, although he has never been pushy about his needs.  Being impressed with his natural intelligence and work ethic, I’ve really hoped it would happen.  A few months ago, Michelle and I met with Shadrack over brunch and told him that we’d love to do what we could to help him pay for school if he was able to get accepted somewhere. 

These two text messages on Thursday evening started an interesting cascade of events.  We determined that he’d just received the news that day and had started visiting family and friends to figure out how he was going to get the money for travel to Iringa and school fees.  Iringa is in the southern half of Tanzania, and at least a 2-day journey by bus from Musoma.

After a few calls back and forth, we agreed that we’d take Shadrack to the bus station on Friday morning.  So, less than eight hours after first hearing from him, we pulled up in front of his house at 4:40am.  He met us outside and explained that he hadn’t slept at all.  He’d spent the entire night saying goodbye to friends and packing his single, carryon-sized suitcase.  We went into the house, where his family had gathered (mother, aunt, sister, brother, and pastor’s son).  We chatted for a couple minutes and then prayed together in Tanzanian style, one person starting and then everyone praying out loud together.  I could sense some hesitation as the prayers started winding down, and then the sobbing began (a very uncommon thing in Tanzania, except at funerals).  It all of a sudden struck me how difficult this was, despite the positive opportunity.  Shadrack was leaving his widowed mother, 14-year-old brother, and other family members for a long time.  Since Iringa is so far away, he knew that he might not see any of them again for two years.  And they don’t even know where their necessities will come from!  Will Mom be able to get enough food for the family while I’m gone?  Will Shadrack be comfortable in the school’s housing and be able to get the necessary school supplies?  What if something happens?

We all (7 of us!) piled into our car and headed to the bus station where we saw him say his final goodbyes and board the first of several buses with his little suitcase for the beginning of his journey.

It all happened so fast, I don’t think anyone had adequate time to process.  Thursday morning was just another dull day for Shadrack.  Friday morning he was on a bus and off for school many kilometers away from home.  And his classes start on Monday morning. 

We pray that all goes well for Shadrack in his studies.

Clive, Feb. 26, 2007 - Oct. 5, 2011

Clive, age 5 weeks and 2 days (the day I brought him home)

Kittens on the jungle gym!  (a chair with the cushions removed)



Betsy and Clive, who always acted like her little kitten and would snuggle up to her



Clive got a toy in a care package from the States and went wild over it!

Clive and some twine that fascinated him for many weeks

Clive and Betsy - he always managed to make her into a pillow and take up the entire cushion

The cutest lazy bum in all of Tanzania and his obliging sister

Clive, looking rather cocky on top of the closet on the day I moved into a new house and he was checking out his new digs

Little cats checking out the big outdoors

Clive and his prize, which he brought inside shortly after this picture was taken and put on  my bed...

Clive in a tree, looking very handsome

The last good picture I have of Clive.  If you look closely, you can see his mouth is a bit open as he sleeps, which is because he was having a hard time breathing his last months.

October 5, 2011 marks the last day of Clive's little life.  He was only 4 and a half, but he had been sick (and getting sicker) since January, and after nine months of struggling, we let him go today.  (A vet assisted.)

Clive was a incredibly social, friendly cat, and one of the only cats I've known who didn't mind little kids (too much).  He would let toddlers "pet" him and wouldn't run away from kids who came to our house to visit.  He loved attention and affection.

His love for people was only exceeded by his love for food.  Nothing in our house was safe if Clive was inside!  Raw onions left on a plate after eating pasta salad, frozen papaya thawing on the counter before being blended into a smoothie, leftover rice at the bottom of the pot soaking in the sink - you name it, Clive ate it.  And loved it.  He was cheerful about eating his own food (dried fish), too, but he had quite the palate for human food!  Any sort of meat was his absolute favorite, followed by bread.  For his final meal, I gave him a piece of bread.  He took a while to get it down because he struggled to breathe while eating and had a sneezing attack in the middle of it, but he ate the entire piece.

Clive also quite enjoyed his rights as an American - freedom of speech.  If he had an opinion, he liked to share it.  If he needed something, he had no qualms about telling us.  If he wanted in, wanted out, wanted more food, wanted our food, wanted to join the conversation, wanted us to pet him, he just went right ahead and let us know.  It was terribly annoying, but it was also handy at times to have a cat who tried to communicate with us.

Clive and his twin sister, Betsy, were the best of buddies.  He was a total pest who took her food, laid down on top of her if she was in a spot he wanted, and connived her into giving him a nose-to-toes bath quite regularly. She fell for it all and adored him as her big brother. They usually slept curled up together and it could be hard to tell whose paws and tail were whose as they got tangled up in sleep.  I loved it when they'd curl up together on my lap, although such times usually ended with Clive slowly edging Betsy off the lap and she'd finish her nap next to us on the couch while he got the entire spot.

Clive was a good-natured cat who came when called, would let himself be transfered from one sleeping position to another without getting indignant and stomping away like most cats do, caught mice and geckos to keep our house free from critters (although his sister Betsy's ability exceeded his), and lived for the evenings when we watched movies and he got to sleep on my or Andrew's lap for hours.  His favorite spot in the world was on his mama's lap (mine).  As we drove him to go meet the vet this afternoon, he got a final 30 minutes snuggled up on my lap, leaning his head against me.

Good-bye, Clivey-boo.  We love you.  We'll miss you.

Good-bye, Rachel

The missionary women of Musoma!  (And no, we did not intentionally coordinate our outfits for the picture.)

This morning all the missionary women of Musoma gathered for a farewell brunch for Rachel Workentine, a translation advisor here at the Mara Cluster.  She's been in Musoma since 2008, but she and I become good friends back in 2004.  We were assigned to be roommates our very first semester of grad school, and we liked each other so much that we just kept on living together for the next two years!  (Side note: we have the same personality, according to Myers-Briggs, and as anyone who has ever been around us much can testify, it shows.)  We lived in three different places during those two years, but we always shared a bedroom and usually we had all of our classes together each semester, too, so we saw a LOT of each other during that time.  At the time we had no inkling that we'd end up together later in Africa - I know it looks like we planned things this way, but it really did just kind of happen!  It's been so wonderful to get to have a close friend here in Musoma, someone who has known me for longer than just a year or two, someone who has met my family and has some shared history with me.  I'm really going to miss Rachel.



Rachel and me this morning at brunch



Shannon (our other housemate in grad school), Rachel, and me in Banff in 2005



Twice is Nice

Rukia, the Ikizu translator, recently returned from a trip to a village. As soon as she came back, I sat down with her and asked all about her trip. I am not able to go out with the translators on their village trips very often, but I love hearing about them when they come back to the office. (If you're thinking carefully, you'll figure out that the above picture is from a previous trip when I was able to go with her.) She gave me all the basic information of her journey first, then at the end she got a little smile and leaned forward to tell me the following story (which I've changed into 3rd person so it can be an independent unit for reproduction elsewhere).

When Rukia, the Ikizu Bible translator, went to a village to read a chapter of her draft of Genesis aloud to get feedback from community members, several people gathered to listen. They were quite surprised to learn that Scripture was being translated into the Ikizu language, but even more surprised to learn that their language could be written.

Rukia began reading and everyone listened very carefully. They were nodding and smiling, following along with the story. She continued reading all the way through the end of the chapter. But as soon as she finished, they suddenly asked her to go back and read the final paragraph again. Rukia immediately thought, “Oh no, what did I mess up in my translation?”

After hearing the final paragraph once more, one man in the group leaned back and said, “Thank you, Rukia, for repeating that part of the story. It was just such good Ikizu and so sweet to our ears to hear our language being read that we all wanted to hear it again! We’ve never heard Ikizu being read aloud before!”

"Then everyone will understand everything!"

Part of my (Misha's) job is sending the translators out to villages periodically to have them do community testing with drafts of the translation. Last week Pastor Magoma, one of the Jita translators with whom I work, spent some time out in the Jita language area, and when he returned to the office this morning, I eagerly listened to him telling me about his trip. One story in particular caught my attention, and I thought you might like to read it:

One day Pastor Magoma traveled to a Jita village he had never been to before. He had with him several chapters of Acts translated into the Jita language and hoped to read the chapters aloud to the people of the village in order to receive some feedback from them about which parts of his draft needed improvement. A group of people, a mixture of believers and non-believers, gathered around to listen to him read.

Contrary to what he expected, the non-believers eagerly listened to the chapters and gave their full approval right away. They said, “You are preserving our language! You are now a respected person in our village for your work in writing down our language for future generations.” They did not seem to mind that the language preservation work was taking place by translating the Christian Scriptures; they thoroughly enjoyed listening to Pastor Magoma read chapters from Acts and were eager for more.

The Christians, however, responded with many questions. They asked questions such as, “How can you translate the Bible – do you know Greek and Hebrew?” and “Is this a paraphrase or a real translation?” and “Is this the work of a particular denomination?” and “Why did you choose that word in Jita for this theological key term?” The elders among them also wanted to know why some words were in modern Jita or even in Swahili, and not in the Jita of their ancestors. Pastor Magoma patiently answered all their questions and in the end, they broke into smiles, pleased with how he had responded.

Reassured that Pastor Magoma was doing good work, they asked, “Do you remember how Jita people used to sing hymns in their own language? We used to sing hymns translated into Jita in church. Do you think that you would have time to write down those songs in addition to your work translating the Bible? Then we can have a church service in which we sing hymns in Jita and read the Bible in Jita and everyone will understand everything!”

Indoor Sunbathing

Every afternoon from about 4:00 to 6:00, we get full sunshine coming in one of our windows. Guess who knows exactly where the sun is? As the sun slowly moves across the floor, Clive and Betsy slowly scoot along with it, moving about four feet along to make sure they get their full solar-charge for the day. You'd think wearing a fur coat in Musoma would keep one warm enough, but apparently not, because these cats are sprawled in the sunshine soaking up their rays every chance they get!

There's more than bilharzia in the water...

We're not quite sure WHAT is in the water in Musoma, but it seems that something more potent than even bilharzia (nasty little thing that causes disease) in the water around Musoma! The last five months have had a few events occurring that seem like more than just coincidence... It all began in April with a frenzy of activity. The Hill family, missionaries in Musoma, gave birth to a little boy, Cooper. Not too long afterwards, Rachel, another Musoma missionary, got engaged! Her fiance is from Egypt, and here's a great shot of them in his backyard. Well, maybe just in his country...

A week or two later, another Musoma missionary family, the Nicholls, gave birth to a little boy, Elliot. After a brief reprieve from activity, in July things in the water came into play again (although that would mean it had lingered in her system for a while, since she was in Canada at the time). Holly, a Musoma missionary, got engaged! His name is Jeff, and he'll be joining her in Musoma next year. Here's a picture of them just after he popped the question.

In September things have really gotten a bit crazy! First a Musoma missionary family, the Kamphuis', gave birth to a little boy, Aron. A couple weeks later, another Musoma missionary family, the Turners, gave birth to a (you guessed it!) little boy, Ezrah. Shortly after Ezrah's birth, there was another engagement, this time with Ellen and Johnny, both of them Musoma missionaries. This picture shows the happy couple (quite a few months before their engagement, however):

There is one more missionary family in the Musoma area expecting a baby, the Archers. If they have a boy, he's sure going to have a lot of little buddies his age to play boy games with, and if it's a girl, she'll have her pick of the crop. Also, there are still several single missionaries in Musoma, too, and you never know, maybe their turn for engagement is coming up soon... I think if they keep drinking the water (after filtering it!) or breathing the air, it just might happen!

What to do?

On Sunday Andrew and I went to church with a Tanzanian friend and his mom and siblings. Our friend's name is Shadrack and he's a young guy, maybe 20 years old. When Andrew finished language school and needed some more conversational practice, a local pastor connected him with Shadrack, who proved to be a good Swahili practicing partner. He knows English fairly well and is a smart, pleasant fellow and a very committed believer. After church (which lasted about three and a half hours), the pastor invited us and Shadrack's family over to his house for lunch. We visited and ate a meal, and about three hours later we apologized that we needed to leave and excused ourselves - visits here can get very long! Although it had been a nice visit and the food had been good, we were getting a little tired and ready to leave.

We gave Shadrack and his mom and little brother a ride home, and when we got to their house they, of course, wanted us to come in and visit. What could we say? Although Andrew was leaving for a week-long trip to Nairobi early the next morning and wasn't exactly ready for his trip just yet, we couldn't turn down their hospitality, so we went in to visit with them, although we didn't quite feel like it.

Shadrack's father died about three years ago (he had cancer). He was a carpenter, and from the looks of their house and the furniture in it, he was a good carpenter and made a decent living. To try to make ends meet after he died, Shadrack's family started a brick-making business. They built a kiln in their front year and make homemade bricks for people to use for building houses. It was not wildly profitable work, but they could get some money from their labor. However, we were recently the recipients of quite a bit of out-of-season rain here in Musoma. The wet season was very dry this year, and now it seems that the dry season is rather wet. The heavy rains destroyed all of their freshly-made bricks, ruined the big pile of sand they had stored up to make more bricks, and caved in their kiln! Shadrack and his mom were in despair. They showed us the damage and shrugged, saying, "We don't know what we'll do now. The rainy season isn't too far away now, and we're afraid it might rain again soon, even though it's supposed to be the dry season and doesn't usually rain this time of year."

Suddenly our concerns about being a bit tired and needing to get ready to go on a trip seemed very petty. We sat with the family, told them we were sorry for all their problems, and told them we'd pray for them. What does one say to a widow and her children who used to have a hard-working husband who gave them a nice life and are now destitute? We wanted to help, but what they need is employment, and we can't give that. Shadrack politely and indirectly inquired if we'll be hiring anyone at our office in the near future, but we're not. Shadrack is very smart and wants to go to college, but in order to get accepted at a public college in Tanzania, some bribes are required, which they can't afford (and don't want) to pay. He can get accepted at a private college, but can't afford the tuition. And even if he does manage to get a scholarship and go to college, that still means he leaves his mom alone with his younger brothers and sisters and no income. We had no answers for them, and other than a few encouraging words, we had nothing to offer. Our afternoon ended on a very sad note.

Taboo! (not the game)

Yesterday I (Misha) was working with the three Jita translators, Magesa, Magoma, and Neema (two men, one woman). We were checking their draft of Acts 9 to prepare it for testing in villages and for being checked by a translation consultant. Whenever we check chapters together, the first step I always have them do is to read their draft aloud. 95% of the time, the two listening to the one reading notice little details that need to be fixed. They usually comment on things like misspellings, awkward phrasings that need to be fixed, and where it would help to have a connector word inserted or deleted.

However, a first came up yesterday, and it took me a while to figure out what the problem was. Magesa had just finished reading the first part of the chapter when Magoma said (in Swahili), "We can't have that word for 'friends' in there!" Then he changed languages and kept on talking to his fellow translators in Jita, so I was not able to follow the conversation. All three translators became very animated and had a vigorous discussion in Jita. I kept hearing the Jita word for "friends" (which could also be translated as "fellows", "mates", or "relatives"), so I knew they were still talking about that, but since I didn't understand anything else, I was really quite curious as to what the problem was!

Eventually the translators' conversation wound down and they changed back into Swahili to explain things to me. Neema said, "The word we'd used for 'friends' in verse 7 (which in the NIV is translated as 'men', if you're checking your Bible!) is not okay for a female to say. It is very taboo!" Only men can say that word. Men say 'abhamura', but women say 'abharume'. Men can't say the women's word, and women can't say the men's word."

I asked, "But Acts is written by a man, Luke, so it would be okay for him to have written that word. So would it be okay for a woman to read that word, just repeating a man's words?"

Magesa said quite firmly, "No, a woman could not stand up in front of a church and read that. She could say it if she was with good friends her own age, but not in front of others. It is taboo!"

"Well, if it is taboo for women to say the man's word, could a man possibly say the women's word?" I asked.

They all laughed a bit and shook their heads. Apparently is is even more taboo for men to say women's words than it is for women to say men's words. "Well, what do you all propose we write instead," I challenged them.

Magoma suggested, "How about the general word for 'people'?" That seemed fine to me to me and the other two, so we made the change in their draft. So now in the Jita translation of Acts, chapter 9 verse 7 says, "the people who were with Paul", and we have not broken any cultural taboos.

No more flashlights!

The battery and inverter/charger


The switch that flips us from regular power (Tanesco, the electric company in Tanzania) to battery (marked "solar", because the electrician's assistant who wrote the labels thought the battery charged from solar panels, I think)

Earlier this year, Tanzania began to run out of electricity. We started going through a lot of candles and batteries in an effort to see every evening and morning (Andrew gets up before the sun). It was liveable, but pretty obnoxious. We felt like moles living in burrows underground, since it was so dark so often!

But then our church decided to bless us with a backup power system, and on our way through Nairobi in July, we picked out a nice battery and inverter/charger. It took a local electrician three full days to get it all set up and installed, but now that it's done - wow! No more burrow-like life! All we have to do is flip a few switches (being very careful to flip them in the correct order), and voila! Lights! There is a little hum in the background, but other than that, there's no way to know if the lights table come from normal electricity or from the battery. We've now had it for over a month and still get a bit excited when we can use it and just flip on the overhead lights instead of doing something like try to hold a flashlight in one hand and rinse dishes with the other (or some other awkward arrangement - have YOU ever tried to pin a flashlight between your upper arm and body so you can zip your pants after going to the bathroom?!).

Thanks, Calvary Chapel!

Sorting lentils

Around here, most foods are sold by the kilo. I (Misha) can buy big yellow lentils (dal) at our local market, which gives us a little variety of how to get protein in our meals. I like making spicy Indian dishes with the lentils, which go nicely with rice, which we can get in abundance here!

However, eating lentils can be very dangerous to your health in these parts. What looks like a lentil on your plate is not always a lentil - watch out for rocks! Before coming here, I never realized just how similar rocks and lentils can look. But to the poor tooth that bites down on one, they are most definitely NOT the same.

So, before doing any sort of cooking with lentils, I spread them out on a cookie sheet, one little handful at a time. I peer down and pick through them, plucking out little rocks left and right. In the picture, you can see my findings - that little pile of refuse is comprised of rocks, little green beans (I think they were being sold in the basket next to the lentils, because quite a few of them seem to have gotten mixed into the lentils I bought), and a few pieces of dried lentil "husks". I guess lentils have some kind of brownish skin covering them when they are growing or something like that.

These lentils ended up in a very tasty, although slight too-spicy for me (Andrew loved it) dish. Take out the rocks, add some spices, and cook them for a long time, and lentils make a great meal!