I Can Fly!

Ok, actually, I can't fly. I wish I could fly. One of the reasons I went skydiving was so that I could get a sense of what it would feel like to fly. I love the wind in my face. I love the thrill of falling. There is something simultaneously terrifying and freeing about it.

I have been lucky to fly around the world, to skydive, and to go on lots of rollercoasters. They all play a part in fulfilling my childhood dream of being able to fly.

I have also been lucky to find wings in various locations. This has helped me with the imagery side of flying. If I were to fly what kind of wings would I want to have?

My friend Sarah painted these wings in Tanzania:

I found these in Tel Aviv:

Should I have joyful and colorful wings or should I have more dramatic wings? These are definitely important questions to ask oneself.

Baba Ronit

This past week I got the news that one of my former guards became a dad for the first time! Sarah wrote about how we helped him get married (Hongera Mr. Sakwa) and his wedding (Anticipation of a Wedding, Experience of a Wedding) in her blog.

I used to call him Mista Sakwa, now I will be calling him Baba Ronit. He named his daughter after me!

Baba Ronit was the first guard that I hired for my house in Tanzania and he was with me to the end. He is a wonderful man of God and was a very faithful guard. I was sad not to be there for his wedding but I am honored to be a part of his family through this new Ronit in the world.

I also got an additional East African gift this week when I got to meet a Kenyan and chat with her in Swahili. We spoke fondly about chips mayai and chapatti and I addmited that I'm not a huge fan of Ugali. I'm so grateful for the continued connections with my life and home in Tanzania!

Back in Tanzania?

Since being here in Israel I've often compared the Arab culture to Tanzania. Now that I'm living in an Arab town I'm noticing the similarities even more!

They are warm and inviting. It is hard for me to leave my house without greeting all my neighbors. I might be heading out for a quick errand, but after greetings, invitations to food, trying 5 different salads and 3 kinds of meat, and being introduced to family from Jordan, that errand took nearly 2 hours.

They are perfectly happy for you to butcher their language, because at least you are trying! I have an 11 year-old and a 13 year-old neighbor who came out the other day as I was hanging up laundry. They taught me how to say each of my articles of clothing in Arabic and didn't mind that they had to remind me several times how to say skirt.

You also get invited to weddings even though you just met them the day before and you don't even know the bride and groom!

But here is where I can get into trouble. Israeli Arabs are not Tanzanians. Sometimes I make too many assumptions. A Tanzanian pre-invitation to a wedding is called an 'mchango' card. 'Mchango' means contribution. On this card you are informed of about how much you are expected to give towards the wedding, this is likely in addition to the wedding gift.

So, when I opened this invitation I immediately searched for the amount that I was expected to give, nervous that it would be well beyond my abilities.

With the help of Google translate I realized that no 'mchango' was expected. I was simply being invited to the wedding. This situation didn't cause an offense, thankfully. It was just a good reminder not to make too many assumptions.

I wasn't able to go to that wedding, but I am going to one this weekend!

Its Bananas!

One advantage of living in Tanzania is that fruit is fresh and readily available. Granted - I miss apples, berries, oranges, peaches, pears and other fruits that I grew accustomed to in the States. However, having a mango tree, lemon tree, guava tree and an avocado tree in my backyard more than make up for the fruits I miss. Oh, I forgot one type of tree I have in the back...banana!!!
About a month ago a banana tree dropped her fruit. (there are 3 more trees which will be giving us more fruit in the near future) The odd thing was that the bananas disappeared immediately. I could not locate them anywhere on the property! Upon asking the guard where the bananas were he gave me this box with all the bananas inside.

Apparently bananas ripen better when in an enclosed space

By the time we had the box in our hands though they were already ripened and heading downhill. So, what else was there to do but make as many banana-centered dishes we could over the weekend. These dishes included banana bread (not pictured) and banana pancakes:

We had also made a pound cake over the weekend and decided to make a banana syrup to top the cake with. I tripled the amount of bananas called for.

We have also successfully frozen a bunch of bananas for future use, as well as having bananas with granola and yogurt for breakfast. Just think, three more trees are going to drop bananas in the next month! Its a good thing that the bananas here are so sweet and flavorful.

Lemon Tree

 This past weekend a friend pointed out the existence of a lemon tree in my yard. I don’t know how this tree had gone unnoticed to that point, but such is life. Sometimes we don’t know what we have available to us, even though it is staring us in the face...with bright yellow* fruit.

*The truth is that lemons here can be yellow, but often times remain green even when they are ripe.

This same friend challenged me to retrieve the top-most ripe lemon saying, and I quote, “I would pay money to see you get that lemon.” Well, get ready to pay up buddy!

There was some urgency in retrieving this lemon. The power was cut all day long this past Sunday and I needed lemon juice for cooking...and the lemon juice was in the fridge. Now, when power is cut and you have no idea when (or sometimes if) it will return you don’t open the fridge. EVER.
Thanks to the forethought of my house-mate Crystal there are pictures and even a video documenting the lemon-retrieval. Crystal was also the one to suggest using my truck ‘Aladdin’ to give me some additional height.

Then came the addition of a long pole with a hooked wire at the end to get the riper fruit higher up.

The wrap was worn so that the neighbors would not see me brazenly baring my knees.

That still wasn’t long enough for the lemon that was the ultimate goal. A second wire was found that was attached to the previous pole and wire...the following video will bear witness of my ultimately victorious attempt.

This one lemon provided all the lemon juice I needed for what I was cooking!

Thanksgiving: Tanzania Style

Ok...I know that Christmas is only a week away and I am talking about Thanksgiving. But, I actually ate really tasty food that had a lot of effort put into it for Thanksgiving. I want you all to get a slight picture of Thanksgiving in Tanzania...as well as gloat about the culinary accomplishments of Thanksgiving this year :).

Thanksgiving is a low key holiday here in Musoma, Tanzania. Why is it a low key holiday? Well, mostly because it isn't a holiday here. So a modest, yet special meal was made for Thanksgiving day. Frank*...the last rooster remaining in the backyard was cooked up for this special meal. Frank was delicious and the sides accompanying him were even better! Yay for recipes found online for roasted chicken and vegetables in a slow cooker**.

That was Thanksgiving day. Crystal and I invited another single missionary over for dinner and together we feasted on Frank and finished the evening with 'Miracle on 34th Street'. I can't believe I had never seen that movie. It is delightful!

The Saturday following Thanksgiving there was a potluck style Thanksgiving celebration amongst the missionaries. Crystal and I decided to attempt sweet potato casserole. There were two major hurdle to accomplishing this ambitious undertaking:

1. Sweet potatoes here are very dry...and white.
2. Marshmallows are not available.

Hm...how do you make sweet potato casserole without marshmallows and with white potatoes? The answer: you don't.

Step 1: Dye your sweet potatoes orange (a mixture of red and yellow food coloring with the brown of molasses really sealing the deal for the perfect orange color). Also, as you dye add enough water to the mixture to change the consistency to that of an American sweet potato. Its was interesting how after changing the color and consistency of these sweet potatoes - they actually tasted very close to the sweet potatoes I am used to in the States.

Before and after picture of the Tanzanian sweet potatoes transformation from a white lumpy mass into a smooth(ish) orange delightfulness.

Step 2: Make marshmallows. Surprisingly easy! We had a blast watching the progression this confectionery wonder went through. It was brown...how does a brown liquid turn into a white fluffy piece of heaven? Well, you just whip it and whip it...and then whip it a bit longer for good measure and eventually you have marshmallows!
Crystal and I danced around the kitchen laughing and saying, "Its really a marshmallow!" It took a couple hours from beginning to end, but, it was absolutely worth it.

From brown sugary liquid to white fluffy pieces of heaven.

Step 3: Make sweet potato casserole as you normally would. You've already done the hard part.
**warning**: contents of the casserole may shift during transportation down a long bumpy dirt road. While still wholly edible...not as pretty upon serving.

The best part of the whole process was when other missionaries didn't believe that it was in fact from sweet potatoes. They assumed that we had substituted the potato for pumpkin. Needless to say, it was a hit. Would it have been a hit in the States? Probably not. But here, compromises must be made and you make do with what you have.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving and that you are heading into an even better Christmas!

Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

*Frank was so-named posthumously due to the fact that I felt bad about eating him without having named him. Three cheers for Frank's generous Thanksgiving sacrifice.
**In the morning as I went to plug in the slow cooker it became apparent that the plug would not fit in the socket...hm, that slow cooker was purchased in Tanzania...why does this happen? So, it was slowly cooked in the oven instead.

Bible Sunday in Mgango, Tanzania

This past Sunday four of my Tanzanian colleagues, my new house-mate Crystal and I went out to Mgango (about 45 minutes outside of Musoma), a village in the Kwaya language group area.

Upon arrival Crystal and I were informed that we would be helping with the kids program. It became apparent that we would be creating the program on the spot, so I grabbed some Kwaya Lukes out of the truck as well as some Lukes and Ruths in Jita (a related language). We then set about helping the children to learn to read in their language.

More than likely, this was the first time any of these children saw their language in writing. Some were shy about reading, while others jumped at the opportunity. It was amazing to hear how easily some of the older kids picked it up.

Crystal is a teacher, who came to Musoma to help teach the missionaries' children. This was her first trip out to a village in the area, and also one of her first times to get to see Tanzanians receiving God's word in their language. Her gifts in teaching came in handy as she sat with the kids and helped them read. We were both pretty impressed with the girl pictured below. She quickly was able to read in Kwaya and didn't want to stop.

During the church service we heard a sermon by Daudi Mornodoro (one of the Kwaya translators) about the power that God's word has. While he read a portion of Luke in Kwaya I watched the faces of the small congregation. They were smiling from ear to ear. It was truly a blessing to get to witness.

Finally; I was asked to sing and play the guitar (so that Kwaya women would know that they too could play the guitar). I chose one of my mom's songs and ended up getting to sing it three times before the end of the service. Here is a short video I was able to put together of the "performances":

Running in Musoma

Running along Riverside in Tulsa, Oklahoma is one of my favorite things about being from Tulsa. I learned to treasure the peace, serenity and friendliness that comes along with the trails that follow the Arkansas.
Naturally, I was looking forward to how much more awesome it would be to run in Africa. If running in the middle of civilization along a riverbank was sublime...I would be reaching new peaks of sublimity when running through the jungles and hills of Africa. No pavement. No concrete. No cars. Just me and the trail.

Hm...well, I was sort of right. There isn’t pavement, concrete or cars...but it is not just me and the trail. My love of running and my resolve to continue running no matter what has been tested by running in Tanzania.
I stand out enough here...being one of the few white people to live in Musoma. It adds a whole new degree of standing out to see a white female running down the road or through the farm trails. It is quite common to have children (and the occasional teenager and adult) chase after you yelling 'Mzungu Mzungu Mzungu'. At times I have tripped over children, been hit or grabbed by others, had rude things said to me...or even once a child ran away crying in terror because three white people came running around the corner and that was just not what she expected for her day.

I finally took my camera with me one day for a run through the farms near where I live and would like to show you the beauty of where I live...as well as tell you about that particular day.

It is about a 25 minute walk from my front door to the top of the hill where I typically start my run. Traditionally I run with my good friend Misha Sandeen and we leave from her house, which is only a 15 minute walk from this hill top.

There are several markers along the way that can be a turn around point. The rock at the top of the hill (which is in fact just under the top of the hill). That curve at the bottom of the hill. Or maybe I'll turn around at the place where the tall grasses start. Or if I'm feeling really ambitious I may venture as far as the puddle that never dries up.

On this particular day I turned around at the rock on the top of the hill. From this vantage point (were you to look with your own eyes, rather than through my camera lens), you can see that Musoma really is located on a peninsula. You can see lake Victoria for at least 180 degrees. Not to mention the corn fields, greenery, reddish dirt and large rock formations.

Just so you know that it really was me that ran out to take these photos, and that I truly do live in such a gorgeous country...here is pictorial proof of my presence on this run:

You may be asking yourself at this point if I ever sing songs from the Lion King as I run along these paths...the answer is unequivocally: YES.

As I was finishing the run I began to lament the fact that no children had started to chase me. I thought it would be an assumed occurrence, and yet not a solitary person had crossed my path. At that very moment of lamentation I turned a corner to see six boys holding hands across the path barring my passage.
My first thought was 'how am I going to get around them?', then decided I would just charge them in the middle...and thankfully they broke apart and let me pass. All of them began running after me immediately. I stopped suddenly and they almost ran away because they thought they were going to get a lecture...instead, they got to pose for a picture. This, I think, made their day as well as mine.

Moments later I passed a dog and then his owners kept up with me just enough to ensure the dog was trotting beside me step for step. Considering the fact that a colleague had just been attacked by a rabid dog...I was just a bit nervous.
So, running in Musoma is beautiful. But there are many challenges. The people yelling at you, the attention you draw, the fact that many people walk these paths with machetes, the fact that I've had rocks thrown at me, a knife smacked on my backside, all these things can make running here more of a chore, rather than a relaxing exercise...but...then there is this:

So, I keep running.

June 2012 Newsletter

I apologize for the poor quality of some of the pictures. I actually don't have any pictures from the wedding myself, credit for photos goes out to my friends and family on Facebook who posted them.

Thanks!