Dear Supporters of Katie Wilcoxson,
Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory forever!
On behalf of all our missionaries and staff, thank you so very much for your faithful financial support and prayers for Katie Wilcoxson, OCMC missionary to Tanzania. As you are aware, Katie was “tried by fire” from the beginning of her assignment, having to undergo an emergency appendectomy very soon after her arrival in Tanzania. During the months that followed, she experienced pain which defied diagnosis. On 21 April Katie returned to the USA on medical leave. We have worked diligently and long with her to provide good care for soul and body, hoping for clearance from our medical professionals for her to return to Tanzania to resume missionary service. Unfortunately, that clearance has not yet been given. Options and short-term alternative assignments were discussed with Katie, but on 29 July we received her letter of resignation, and we regretfully accepted it. She wrote these words in her final letter to her support team:
I'm sure this will come as a surprise for many of you, but I turned in my resignation with OCMC. Of course, that was a very difficult decision, but I know that it was the right one for me. I will miss my Tanzanian family and friends, but I want to thank each and every one of you for your prayers and your kindness and your support.
We are grateful for Katie’s willingness to serve our Lord through His Church in Africa, and for the offering of her skills and talents to this worthy ministry. We are very thankful for her faithful and loving family, for her life-giving parish in Cedar Park, Texas, and for her Archdiocese which so faithfully supported her. We are going to miss her. I know you will continue to pray with us for her health and welfare, knowing that God’s ultimate plans for her will continue to unfold in accordance with her salvation and His holy will. No doubt, the Lord has special plans for Katie.
According to OCMC policy and IRS regulations, any remaining balance of funds in Katie’s support account will be disbursed to other missionaries serving in Africa. Your donations will be well invested into the lives of current and future missionaries. OCMC has four other missionaries serving in Africa at this time, and more applicants and new missionary candidates are now being prepared for service. Thank you in advance on their behalf for helping to make this all possible.
We encourage you to consider transferring your pledge or designate future support to another OCMC missionary so we can continue our work in Africa. You may do so by using the enclosed form to indicate your intentions. Please keep Katie, OCMC, and all of our missionaries throughout the world in your prayers, as we continue to thank God for you.
Yours because of Christ,
Fr. David Rucker
Associate Director
Showing posts with label Katie Wilcoxson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Katie Wilcoxson. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Tanzanian Taxis: An Update from Missionary Katherine Wilcoxson
Hailing a taxi in Tanzania can be a bit tricky, mainly for two reasons: when you are trying to flag down a taxi, ninety-five percent of the time there is no sign on the car to show it is a taxi. Most of the time you are taking a chance hailing the cars that are driving past you. There are two kinds of cars in Bukoba: personal cars and cars being used as taxis. Four door economy size cars are most common in Bukoba. There is no certain color or sign on any car letting you know the car is a taxi--even if the taxi is in use there is still no way to tell! The only way you know for sure is if the car drives past you--then it probably wasn't a taxi.
The other reason hailing a taxi is tricky is because you must negotiate the price. It is a game you play with the driver, and the game goes something like this: You approach a group of men standing outside their cars. Usually the men are socializing or reading newspapers. As you get closer, the men start to whistle and yell, “Taxi! you need a taxi?” The drivers never argue with each other, so you pick one man and start the negotiations:
Driver: “Mambo” (How’s it going>)
Me: “Poa, Ninakwenda Posta” (Good, I must go to the post office.)
Driver: “Twende” (Let’s go!)
Me: “Shilingi ngapi” (How many shillings?)
Driver: Elfu mbili” (Two thousand shillings--that's about $1.33)
Me: “Mia tano” (One thousand shillings--that's about $0.66)
Driver: “Sawasawa” (Okay!)
Most of the time you and the driver agree on a price, but sometimes you don’t. When you don’t agree on a price it is important, as you would with any haggling, to be prepared to walk away. A few times I have had to walk back and agree to the price that the driver proposed, and that's a little embarrassing.
But it is also important to have a regular, trusted taxi driver for safety reasons. We don’t have to worry about this issue because we have Godfrey. Godfrey was a driver that was introduced to us by Fr. Spyridon. When we first met Godfrey he was wearing a fez. This is a hat usually wore by men of the Muslim faith. When we asked Godfrey about his faith, he said he was a Lutheran. Confused, we asked him why he wears a hat that is usually worn by only Muslim men. He said he just liked to wear the hat for fashion purposes. Godfrey is one of our best friends in Tanzania. He is always looking out for our best interests. When he saw me riding on motorcycle-taxis, he lovingly scolded me and reminded me that, while motorcycle taxis are cheaper, they are very also dangerous. When Godfrey arrives at our house, he always greets us with a jolly "Furaha na Amani." You cannot help but smile and feel happy when you are riding with Godfrey--and you don't have to negotiate the price.
Be Free,
kt
The other reason hailing a taxi is tricky is because you must negotiate the price. It is a game you play with the driver, and the game goes something like this: You approach a group of men standing outside their cars. Usually the men are socializing or reading newspapers. As you get closer, the men start to whistle and yell, “Taxi! you need a taxi?” The drivers never argue with each other, so you pick one man and start the negotiations:
Driver: “Mambo” (How’s it going>)
Me: “Poa, Ninakwenda Posta” (Good, I must go to the post office.)
Driver: “Twende” (Let’s go!)
Me: “Shilingi ngapi” (How many shillings?)
Driver: Elfu mbili” (Two thousand shillings--that's about $1.33)
Me: “Mia tano” (One thousand shillings--that's about $0.66)
Driver: “Sawasawa” (Okay!)
Most of the time you and the driver agree on a price, but sometimes you don’t. When you don’t agree on a price it is important, as you would with any haggling, to be prepared to walk away. A few times I have had to walk back and agree to the price that the driver proposed, and that's a little embarrassing.
But it is also important to have a regular, trusted taxi driver for safety reasons. We don’t have to worry about this issue because we have Godfrey. Godfrey was a driver that was introduced to us by Fr. Spyridon. When we first met Godfrey he was wearing a fez. This is a hat usually wore by men of the Muslim faith. When we asked Godfrey about his faith, he said he was a Lutheran. Confused, we asked him why he wears a hat that is usually worn by only Muslim men. He said he just liked to wear the hat for fashion purposes. Godfrey is one of our best friends in Tanzania. He is always looking out for our best interests. When he saw me riding on motorcycle-taxis, he lovingly scolded me and reminded me that, while motorcycle taxis are cheaper, they are very also dangerous. When Godfrey arrives at our house, he always greets us with a jolly "Furaha na Amani." You cannot help but smile and feel happy when you are riding with Godfrey--and you don't have to negotiate the price.
Be Free,
kt
Friday, July 15, 2011
Pentecost: An Update from Missionary Katherine Wilcoxson
Pentecost
"…they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. And there were dwelling at Jerusalem Jews, devout men, out of every nation under heaven. Now when this was noised abroad, the multitude came together, and were confounded, because that every man heard them speak in his own language."
"Pole Sana"
It means "very sorry." This is the only phrase in Kiswahili that expresses sympathy for anything. In English there are so many different ways to express your sympathy. We even have sympathy greeting cards. There are also lots of physical ways of showing your sympathy for someone. Hugs are a big one, especially for me. I have always felt hugs were one of the best ways to show someone your sympathy or your love.
But I can't do that in Tanzania. Women don't even hug other women--and hugging someone of a different gender is a big taboo. People do shake hands in Tanzania, but hold your left hand on your right elbow while you're doing that. If you are an Orthodox Christian you might even say: "Furaha na Amani" (joy and peace), but it has been a struggle for me to find ways to show my love for others without hugging.
But, thanks be to God, on Pentecost, the Apostles, broke through this barrier and all other communication barriers through the power of the Holy Spirit. Now it's possible to communicate and love and even show sympathy across different languages and cultures.
But learning exactly how to do that is my Pentecost challenge. So please pray that the Holy Spirit will give me the wisdom and the guidance I need.
"…they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. And there were dwelling at Jerusalem Jews, devout men, out of every nation under heaven. Now when this was noised abroad, the multitude came together, and were confounded, because that every man heard them speak in his own language."
"Pole Sana"
It means "very sorry." This is the only phrase in Kiswahili that expresses sympathy for anything. In English there are so many different ways to express your sympathy. We even have sympathy greeting cards. There are also lots of physical ways of showing your sympathy for someone. Hugs are a big one, especially for me. I have always felt hugs were one of the best ways to show someone your sympathy or your love.
But I can't do that in Tanzania. Women don't even hug other women--and hugging someone of a different gender is a big taboo. People do shake hands in Tanzania, but hold your left hand on your right elbow while you're doing that. If you are an Orthodox Christian you might even say: "Furaha na Amani" (joy and peace), but it has been a struggle for me to find ways to show my love for others without hugging.
But, thanks be to God, on Pentecost, the Apostles, broke through this barrier and all other communication barriers through the power of the Holy Spirit. Now it's possible to communicate and love and even show sympathy across different languages and cultures.
But learning exactly how to do that is my Pentecost challenge. So please pray that the Holy Spirit will give me the wisdom and the guidance I need.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Love, Laughter, and Family: An Update from Missionary Katherine Wilcoxson
I had mentioned in a previous update that one of my favorite phrases in any language is 'I love you'. Fr. Spyridon, our parish priest in Bukoba, has a daughter named Sofia. She is four years old. When we first met Sofia, she did not talk to us at all. Even if we spoke to her in Kiswahili she would only nod her head for yes or no. At that time, my Kiswahili was limited, but that doesn't matter; I knew the most important phrase. So everyday when I saw Sofia, I would whisper into her ear, "Ninapenda Sofia." Just those words. At first she didn't respond--probably because she didn't know what to do with this white person speaking to her in Kiswahili. But it only took a day or so, and then, when I whispered in her ear, she responded, "Ninapenda Katrina." Ever since then Sofia and I exchange this greeting every day when we first meet each other. It has been said over and over, but the best way to learn a language is to become as a child--and, you can ask anyone, I usually don't have a problem with throwing myself into this role. Whenever Sofia sees me coming her way she runs to me and stops just short of me, and I spread my arms way out, and she does the same, and we embrace. I have also taught Sofia how to blow kisses, and that's what we do when we say goodbye.
Speaking of kisses and saying goodbye, when I learned that I would have to travel home for awhile, James Hargrave escorted me to the Nairobi Giraffe Park. The big attraction at the park is that you can feed and pet the giraffes--but, the best part of all is that, if you put the maize pellets in your mouth (that's what they give you to feed the giraffes) and pucker up, you have the once in a lifetime experience of getting a (very wet and sandpaper feeling) giraffe kiss. I can't think of a better way of leaving the continent of Africa than to be kissed goodbye by a giraffe.
James also arranged another blessing for me. The day before I was scheduled to leave for the States, I found myself in the Nairobi Hospital as a patient. I was diagnosed with a kidney infection, and I wasn't able to leave the hospital until three days later, on the Tuesday of Holy week. James had been attending the daily services, and he spoke with Metropolitan Makarios of Kenya. When James mentioned that I was still in Nairobi Hospital, His Eminence offered to come to my room to anoint me with Holy Unction oil. That afternoon His Eminence came by, and he even brought his own photographer! So I can't wait to see my picture in the Newsletter for the Nairobi Diocese.
Differences in Babies
While I have been in Tanzania, many of my friends from home have had babies. As you can imagine, there are quite a few differences in American babies and Tanzanian babies. In Tanzania for example, it is very rare to see a child younger than two to be carried on their mother's hip. These children are always transported on their mother's back. Usually two pieces of cloth called kanga are used to support the child. The mother leans over, keeping her back straight, and places the child on her back. As this is done, the child actually balances itself on the flattened back as the mother ties the child in a sling with the two kanga (it's pretty amazing to watch). Once a child grows out of being carried on their mother's back, they are expected to walk everywhere. One last difference is that my friends have lots and lots of gadgets and toys for their child and themselves. One gadget has a timer to tell you when to feed your baby, which side you breast fed on the hour before, and how many diapers were changed. It is very uncommon for a woman to have a baby in Tanzania without a whole lot of support. Even if the woman doesn't have family, her neighbors, the neighbor's family, and the neighbor's friends help the woman especially if she is a first time mother. Community, relationships, and families are not just an idea - it is a lifestyle.
It is hard to not feel like part of some sort of family in Tanzania, which is really great when you miss your biological family. There is no shortage of love, laughter and the feeling of belonging to a family in Tanzania.
Speaking of kisses and saying goodbye, when I learned that I would have to travel home for awhile, James Hargrave escorted me to the Nairobi Giraffe Park. The big attraction at the park is that you can feed and pet the giraffes--but, the best part of all is that, if you put the maize pellets in your mouth (that's what they give you to feed the giraffes) and pucker up, you have the once in a lifetime experience of getting a (very wet and sandpaper feeling) giraffe kiss. I can't think of a better way of leaving the continent of Africa than to be kissed goodbye by a giraffe.
James also arranged another blessing for me. The day before I was scheduled to leave for the States, I found myself in the Nairobi Hospital as a patient. I was diagnosed with a kidney infection, and I wasn't able to leave the hospital until three days later, on the Tuesday of Holy week. James had been attending the daily services, and he spoke with Metropolitan Makarios of Kenya. When James mentioned that I was still in Nairobi Hospital, His Eminence offered to come to my room to anoint me with Holy Unction oil. That afternoon His Eminence came by, and he even brought his own photographer! So I can't wait to see my picture in the Newsletter for the Nairobi Diocese.
Differences in Babies
While I have been in Tanzania, many of my friends from home have had babies. As you can imagine, there are quite a few differences in American babies and Tanzanian babies. In Tanzania for example, it is very rare to see a child younger than two to be carried on their mother's hip. These children are always transported on their mother's back. Usually two pieces of cloth called kanga are used to support the child. The mother leans over, keeping her back straight, and places the child on her back. As this is done, the child actually balances itself on the flattened back as the mother ties the child in a sling with the two kanga (it's pretty amazing to watch). Once a child grows out of being carried on their mother's back, they are expected to walk everywhere. One last difference is that my friends have lots and lots of gadgets and toys for their child and themselves. One gadget has a timer to tell you when to feed your baby, which side you breast fed on the hour before, and how many diapers were changed. It is very uncommon for a woman to have a baby in Tanzania without a whole lot of support. Even if the woman doesn't have family, her neighbors, the neighbor's family, and the neighbor's friends help the woman especially if she is a first time mother. Community, relationships, and families are not just an idea - it is a lifestyle.
It is hard to not feel like part of some sort of family in Tanzania, which is really great when you miss your biological family. There is no shortage of love, laughter and the feeling of belonging to a family in Tanzania.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Missionary Katherine Wilcoxson looks back at Christmas in Kasikizi
Most of Holy Week, I was either in the hospital or on an airplane. But one of the things that sustained me during all that was the memory I have of celebrating Nativity in Tanzania.
On the Eve of Nativity, we had Liturgy in the morning in Bukoba. I wanted to visit Kasikazi during the feast, but I am not able to travel long distances by myself—it’s just not safe. But, Tambua, one of our friends there, was going to be traveling at that time, so I was able to ride with him on the dala dala (which is what public transportation is called here). It took a while to find the "right" dala dala when we arrived at the bus station. The bus station is a carnival size area of land with buses scattered everywhere. People approach you trying to sell what they have in hand, maji (water), perfumes (manukato) and of course senene (grasshoppers, which are very popular here). We found the right bus that would let us 1) sit together and 2) sit in the front seat. I had mentioned in a previous blog that sitting in the front seat on the bus comes with responsibilities. This trip was no different. I actually enjoy the responsibilities. The front seat is the most comfortable seat, and, basically what this means is that you don't have to have someone's back in your face. This trip I had the responsibility of holding 3 loaves of bread and a two year old girl. The trip to Kasikazi took us about two hours.
Tambua and I had a warm welcome from Fr. Geronimos and two of his seminarians, John and Thomas. There was then a little catching up in Kiswahili between the men. I like to listen to people speaking Kiswahili to see if I can recognize any words I have learned in class. I knew only a few, but I also know it will get easier to understand. I was shown my room after the catching-up-conversation finished. I put my bags down and decided to take a walk around the seminary I hadn't seen for eight years. Not a lot had changed, but I was finally able to see, in person, the finished church my short-term mission teammates and I helped build. My team was assigned to dig the narthex of the church. When I saw the area we had dug, I was surprised to see a beautiful courtyard. I later learned that here the Narthex is made into a courtyard with beautiful landscape. It was a special moment which brought me to tears. After my visit to the church, I went down the hill and ran into some men. I worked on my Kiswahili and told them who I was, where I live, where I was from, and why I was here in Tanzania. There were a lot of laughs, but I am used to that. I found out that these men were some of the seminarians I had seen and took pictures of when I visited Rubale village with His Eminence. I told them about my video and the photos I had of them, and they became excited and asked to see them. I came back with my laptop, and they all crowded around looking at the pictures. Not long afterward we had dinner. After dinner, Fr. Geronimos gave a very welcoming speech to me. The seminarians then sang a welcome song in Kiswahili. As I headed outside to make my way to my bed, I was delighted to see "lights" outside. I have only lived in cities so I had heard and seen pictures of lightning bugs, but I had never seen them in person.
The Liturgy at All Saints in Kasikazi was beautiful! The church was very crowded. The children packed themselves into benches that would usually seat four people, but there were ten of them to a bench. One of the older women (Mama Mzee) would go around unpacking the benches and then return to her bench. Since All Saints is on the grounds of the seminary, the seminarians are always in attendance. They serve as the altar boys, chanters, readers, and choir. Another of the seminarians’ duties is to direct the controlled chaos during communion. By now I was used to being "stared at", but being in a village takes staring to a whole new level. In a village, the people would be more likely to see a space alien than to see a westerner (mzungu) or someone with orange colored hair for that matter. After Liturgy, I handed out some gum (juju) and pencils to the children. I had never spent Nativity away from my family. Even though a big part of the holidays for me is being with my family, surprisingly I didn't feel sad or lonely. I felt I was given a gift of another family. My mom sent me an email saying ‘Your mom and dad miss you, but our best Christmas is knowing our children are happy’. And that is all that matters. That afternoon we had goat, rice, and beans for lunch. Some of the seminarians and I walked through the village, and I was honored to meet the All Saint's church chairman. Chai tea was served along with coffee beans. I ate right into the bean and then found out I was supposed to take the bean out of its shell first. It was much more enjoyable to eat them without the shell. The seminarians had many questions for me about America. They were surprised to know that we have some of the same plant life as they do. Also they were surprised to hear that there were dark skinned people in America just like them.
Fr. Geronimos is the rector of four different parishes. Since Nativity was celebrated at All Saints, Fr. Geronimos celebrated Liturgy in the village of Kikagate on Sunday. I was told I needed to ride a motorcycle (pikipiki) to the church. There are no roads or smooth ground in the villages. The service was much like the day before. There were more children (watoto) in attendance at St. Anastasios. The stares continued, but I figured out a counter measure--smiling back at them. After Liturgy, traditionally the priest gives a homily (mahubiri) and then, the person we would call the church president, gives a short talk. Kihaya, the local dialect, was being spoken, so I was only able to use the men's body language to follow what was being said. Quickly I noticed people turning around and looking at me. The council president was also talking excitedly and pointing his finger in my direction. Fr. Geronimos would cut in on the president's talk and give a comment or two. At one point, I thought maybe there was a fight going on about my being in the village because of the way the two men's voices were getting louder and louder. I later found out that the president was telling the people what a blessing it was to celebrate the Divine Liturgy with a mzungu (westerner) at St. Anastasios because everyone can now see that there are Orthodox Christians in the western world. The president said that many people in villages like Kikagate will live until they are seventy years old before they ever see a westerner. I was just hoping that I made a good impression for all of the western world.
Father Geronimos, John, Thomas, Anastasios, and I all decided to walk home. We got caught in the rain, and so we took pikipiki back to the seminary. Dinner would be the last meal I would share with the seminarians, so we all said our official goodbyes. Father Geronimos talked about how happy he was to have me back in Kasikizi and hoped I would return again. Then each seminarian was asked to say something and there were tears (from me mostly) but a good bit of laughter as well. That evening the seminarians heard for the first time that I was a nurse. After dinner there were many questions about each man’s health concerns. I did my best to answer them (there was a huge need for dental care). The next morning we took the early bus (daladala). All of the seminarians had gotten up to see me off. I came home exhausted but renewed finally being able to visit my Kasikizi again.
On the Eve of Nativity, we had Liturgy in the morning in Bukoba. I wanted to visit Kasikazi during the feast, but I am not able to travel long distances by myself—it’s just not safe. But, Tambua, one of our friends there, was going to be traveling at that time, so I was able to ride with him on the dala dala (which is what public transportation is called here). It took a while to find the "right" dala dala when we arrived at the bus station. The bus station is a carnival size area of land with buses scattered everywhere. People approach you trying to sell what they have in hand, maji (water), perfumes (manukato) and of course senene (grasshoppers, which are very popular here). We found the right bus that would let us 1) sit together and 2) sit in the front seat. I had mentioned in a previous blog that sitting in the front seat on the bus comes with responsibilities. This trip was no different. I actually enjoy the responsibilities. The front seat is the most comfortable seat, and, basically what this means is that you don't have to have someone's back in your face. This trip I had the responsibility of holding 3 loaves of bread and a two year old girl. The trip to Kasikazi took us about two hours.
Tambua and I had a warm welcome from Fr. Geronimos and two of his seminarians, John and Thomas. There was then a little catching up in Kiswahili between the men. I like to listen to people speaking Kiswahili to see if I can recognize any words I have learned in class. I knew only a few, but I also know it will get easier to understand. I was shown my room after the catching-up-conversation finished. I put my bags down and decided to take a walk around the seminary I hadn't seen for eight years. Not a lot had changed, but I was finally able to see, in person, the finished church my short-term mission teammates and I helped build. My team was assigned to dig the narthex of the church. When I saw the area we had dug, I was surprised to see a beautiful courtyard. I later learned that here the Narthex is made into a courtyard with beautiful landscape. It was a special moment which brought me to tears. After my visit to the church, I went down the hill and ran into some men. I worked on my Kiswahili and told them who I was, where I live, where I was from, and why I was here in Tanzania. There were a lot of laughs, but I am used to that. I found out that these men were some of the seminarians I had seen and took pictures of when I visited Rubale village with His Eminence. I told them about my video and the photos I had of them, and they became excited and asked to see them. I came back with my laptop, and they all crowded around looking at the pictures. Not long afterward we had dinner. After dinner, Fr. Geronimos gave a very welcoming speech to me. The seminarians then sang a welcome song in Kiswahili. As I headed outside to make my way to my bed, I was delighted to see "lights" outside. I have only lived in cities so I had heard and seen pictures of lightning bugs, but I had never seen them in person.
The Liturgy at All Saints in Kasikazi was beautiful! The church was very crowded. The children packed themselves into benches that would usually seat four people, but there were ten of them to a bench. One of the older women (Mama Mzee) would go around unpacking the benches and then return to her bench. Since All Saints is on the grounds of the seminary, the seminarians are always in attendance. They serve as the altar boys, chanters, readers, and choir. Another of the seminarians’ duties is to direct the controlled chaos during communion. By now I was used to being "stared at", but being in a village takes staring to a whole new level. In a village, the people would be more likely to see a space alien than to see a westerner (mzungu) or someone with orange colored hair for that matter. After Liturgy, I handed out some gum (juju) and pencils to the children. I had never spent Nativity away from my family. Even though a big part of the holidays for me is being with my family, surprisingly I didn't feel sad or lonely. I felt I was given a gift of another family. My mom sent me an email saying ‘Your mom and dad miss you, but our best Christmas is knowing our children are happy’. And that is all that matters. That afternoon we had goat, rice, and beans for lunch. Some of the seminarians and I walked through the village, and I was honored to meet the All Saint's church chairman. Chai tea was served along with coffee beans. I ate right into the bean and then found out I was supposed to take the bean out of its shell first. It was much more enjoyable to eat them without the shell. The seminarians had many questions for me about America. They were surprised to know that we have some of the same plant life as they do. Also they were surprised to hear that there were dark skinned people in America just like them.
Fr. Geronimos is the rector of four different parishes. Since Nativity was celebrated at All Saints, Fr. Geronimos celebrated Liturgy in the village of Kikagate on Sunday. I was told I needed to ride a motorcycle (pikipiki) to the church. There are no roads or smooth ground in the villages. The service was much like the day before. There were more children (watoto) in attendance at St. Anastasios. The stares continued, but I figured out a counter measure--smiling back at them. After Liturgy, traditionally the priest gives a homily (mahubiri) and then, the person we would call the church president, gives a short talk. Kihaya, the local dialect, was being spoken, so I was only able to use the men's body language to follow what was being said. Quickly I noticed people turning around and looking at me. The council president was also talking excitedly and pointing his finger in my direction. Fr. Geronimos would cut in on the president's talk and give a comment or two. At one point, I thought maybe there was a fight going on about my being in the village because of the way the two men's voices were getting louder and louder. I later found out that the president was telling the people what a blessing it was to celebrate the Divine Liturgy with a mzungu (westerner) at St. Anastasios because everyone can now see that there are Orthodox Christians in the western world. The president said that many people in villages like Kikagate will live until they are seventy years old before they ever see a westerner. I was just hoping that I made a good impression for all of the western world.
Father Geronimos, John, Thomas, Anastasios, and I all decided to walk home. We got caught in the rain, and so we took pikipiki back to the seminary. Dinner would be the last meal I would share with the seminarians, so we all said our official goodbyes. Father Geronimos talked about how happy he was to have me back in Kasikizi and hoped I would return again. Then each seminarian was asked to say something and there were tears (from me mostly) but a good bit of laughter as well. That evening the seminarians heard for the first time that I was a nurse. After dinner there were many questions about each man’s health concerns. I did my best to answer them (there was a huge need for dental care). The next morning we took the early bus (daladala). All of the seminarians had gotten up to see me off. I came home exhausted but renewed finally being able to visit my Kasikizi again.
Missionary Katherine Wilcoxson looks back at Christmas in Kasikizi
Most of Holy Week, I was either in the hospital or on an airplane. But one of the things that sustained me during all that was the memory I have of celebrating Nativity in Tanzania.
On the Eve of Nativity, we had Liturgy in the morning in Bukoba. I wanted to visit Kasikazi during the feast, but I am not able to travel long distances by myself—it’s just not safe. But, Tambua, one of our friends there, was going to be traveling at that time, so I was able to ride with him on the dala dala (which is what public transportation is called here). It took a while to find the "right" dala dala when we arrived at the bus station. The bus station is a carnival size area of land with buses scattered everywhere. People approach you trying to sell what they have in hand, maji (water), perfumes (manukato) and of course senene (grasshoppers, which are very popular here). We found the right bus that would let us 1) sit together and 2) sit in the front seat. I had mentioned in a previous blog that sitting in the front seat on the bus comes with responsibilities. This trip was no different. I actually enjoy the responsibilities. The front seat is the most comfortable seat, and, basically what this means is that you don't have to have someone's back in your face. This trip I had the responsibility of holding 3 loaves of bread and a two year old girl. The trip to Kasikazi took us about two hours.
Tambua and I had a warm welcome from Fr. Geronimos and two of his seminarians, John and Thomas. There was then a little catching up in Kiswahili between the men. I like to listen to people speaking Kiswahili to see if I can recognize any words I have learned in class. I knew only a few, but I also know it will get easier to understand. I was shown my room after the catching-up-conversation finished. I put my bags down and decided to take a walk around the seminary I hadn't seen for eight years. Not a lot had changed, but I was finally able to see, in person, the finished church my short-term mission teammates and I helped build. My team was assigned to dig the narthex of the church. When I saw the area we had dug, I was surprised to see a beautiful courtyard. I later learned that here the Narthex is made into a courtyard with beautiful landscape. It was a special moment which brought me to tears. After my visit to the church, I went down the hill and ran into some men. I worked on my Kiswahili and told them who I was, where I live, where I was from, and why I was here in Tanzania. There were a lot of laughs, but I am used to that. I found out that these men were some of the seminarians I had seen and took pictures of when I visited Rubale village with His Eminence. I told them about my video and the photos I had of them, and they became excited and asked to see them. I came back with my laptop, and they all crowded around looking at the pictures. Not long afterward we had dinner. After dinner, Fr. Geronimos gave a very welcoming speech to me. The seminarians then sang a welcome song in Kiswahili. As I headed outside to make my way to my bed, I was delighted to see "lights" outside. I have only lived in cities so I had heard and seen pictures of lightning bugs, but I had never seen them in person.
The Liturgy at All Saints in Kasikazi was beautiful! The church was very crowded. The children packed themselves into benches that would usually seat four people, but there were ten of them to a bench. One of the older women (Mama Mzee) would go around unpacking the benches and then return to her bench. Since All Saints is on the grounds of the seminary, the seminarians are always in attendance. They serve as the altar boys, chanters, readers, and choir. Another of the seminarians’ duties is to direct the controlled chaos during communion. By now I was used to being "stared at", but being in a village takes staring to a whole new level. In a village, the people would be more likely to see a space alien than to see a westerner (mzungu) or someone with orange colored hair for that matter. After Liturgy, I handed out some gum (juju) and pencils to the children. I had never spent Nativity away from my family. Even though a big part of the holidays for me is being with my family, surprisingly I didn't feel sad or lonely. I felt I was given a gift of another family. My mom sent me an email saying ‘Your mom and dad miss you, but our best Christmas is knowing our children are happy’. And that is all that matters. That afternoon we had goat, rice, and beans for lunch. Some of the seminarians and I walked through the village, and I was honored to meet the All Saint's church chairman. Chai tea was served along with coffee beans. I ate right into the bean and then found out I was supposed to take the bean out of its shell first. It was much more enjoyable to eat them without the shell. The seminarians had many questions for me about America. They were surprised to know that we have some of the same plant life as they do. Also they were surprised to hear that there were dark skinned people in America just like them.
Fr. Geronimos is the rector of four different parishes. Since Nativity was celebrated at All Saints, Fr. Geronimos celebrated Liturgy in the village of Kikagate on Sunday. I was told I needed to ride a motorcycle (pikipiki) to the church. There are no roads or smooth ground in the villages. The service was much like the day before. There were more children (watoto) in attendance at St. Anastasios. The stares continued, but I figured out a counter measure--smiling back at them. After Liturgy, traditionally the priest gives a homily (mahubiri) and then, the person we would call the church president, gives a short talk. Kihaya, the local dialect, was being spoken, so I was only able to use the men's body language to follow what was being said. Quickly I noticed people turning around and looking at me. The council president was also talking excitedly and pointing his finger in my direction. Fr. Geronimos would cut in on the president's talk and give a comment or two. At one point, I thought maybe there was a fight going on about my being in the village because of the way the two men's voices were getting louder and louder. I later found out that the president was telling the people what a blessing it was to celebrate the Divine Liturgy with a mzungu (westerner) at St. Anastasios because everyone can now see that there are Orthodox Christians in the western world. The president said that many people in villages like Kikagate will live until they are seventy years old before they ever see a westerner. I was just hoping that I made a good impression for all of the western world.
Father Geronimos, John, Thomas, Anastasios, and I all decided to walk home. We got caught in the rain, and so we took pikipiki back to the seminary. Dinner would be the last meal I would share with the seminarians, so we all said our official goodbyes. Father Geronimos talked about how happy he was to have me back in Kasikizi and hoped I would return again. Then each seminarian was asked to say something and there were tears (from me mostly) but a good bit of laughter as well. That evening the seminarians heard for the first time that I was a nurse. After dinner there were many questions about each man’s health concerns. I did my best to answer them (there was a huge need for dental care). The next morning we took the early bus (daladala). All of the seminarians had gotten up to see me off. I came home exhausted but renewed finally being able to visit my Kasikizi again.
On the Eve of Nativity, we had Liturgy in the morning in Bukoba. I wanted to visit Kasikazi during the feast, but I am not able to travel long distances by myself—it’s just not safe. But, Tambua, one of our friends there, was going to be traveling at that time, so I was able to ride with him on the dala dala (which is what public transportation is called here). It took a while to find the "right" dala dala when we arrived at the bus station. The bus station is a carnival size area of land with buses scattered everywhere. People approach you trying to sell what they have in hand, maji (water), perfumes (manukato) and of course senene (grasshoppers, which are very popular here). We found the right bus that would let us 1) sit together and 2) sit in the front seat. I had mentioned in a previous blog that sitting in the front seat on the bus comes with responsibilities. This trip was no different. I actually enjoy the responsibilities. The front seat is the most comfortable seat, and, basically what this means is that you don't have to have someone's back in your face. This trip I had the responsibility of holding 3 loaves of bread and a two year old girl. The trip to Kasikazi took us about two hours.
Tambua and I had a warm welcome from Fr. Geronimos and two of his seminarians, John and Thomas. There was then a little catching up in Kiswahili between the men. I like to listen to people speaking Kiswahili to see if I can recognize any words I have learned in class. I knew only a few, but I also know it will get easier to understand. I was shown my room after the catching-up-conversation finished. I put my bags down and decided to take a walk around the seminary I hadn't seen for eight years. Not a lot had changed, but I was finally able to see, in person, the finished church my short-term mission teammates and I helped build. My team was assigned to dig the narthex of the church. When I saw the area we had dug, I was surprised to see a beautiful courtyard. I later learned that here the Narthex is made into a courtyard with beautiful landscape. It was a special moment which brought me to tears. After my visit to the church, I went down the hill and ran into some men. I worked on my Kiswahili and told them who I was, where I live, where I was from, and why I was here in Tanzania. There were a lot of laughs, but I am used to that. I found out that these men were some of the seminarians I had seen and took pictures of when I visited Rubale village with His Eminence. I told them about my video and the photos I had of them, and they became excited and asked to see them. I came back with my laptop, and they all crowded around looking at the pictures. Not long afterward we had dinner. After dinner, Fr. Geronimos gave a very welcoming speech to me. The seminarians then sang a welcome song in Kiswahili. As I headed outside to make my way to my bed, I was delighted to see "lights" outside. I have only lived in cities so I had heard and seen pictures of lightning bugs, but I had never seen them in person.
The Liturgy at All Saints in Kasikazi was beautiful! The church was very crowded. The children packed themselves into benches that would usually seat four people, but there were ten of them to a bench. One of the older women (Mama Mzee) would go around unpacking the benches and then return to her bench. Since All Saints is on the grounds of the seminary, the seminarians are always in attendance. They serve as the altar boys, chanters, readers, and choir. Another of the seminarians’ duties is to direct the controlled chaos during communion. By now I was used to being "stared at", but being in a village takes staring to a whole new level. In a village, the people would be more likely to see a space alien than to see a westerner (mzungu) or someone with orange colored hair for that matter. After Liturgy, I handed out some gum (juju) and pencils to the children. I had never spent Nativity away from my family. Even though a big part of the holidays for me is being with my family, surprisingly I didn't feel sad or lonely. I felt I was given a gift of another family. My mom sent me an email saying ‘Your mom and dad miss you, but our best Christmas is knowing our children are happy’. And that is all that matters. That afternoon we had goat, rice, and beans for lunch. Some of the seminarians and I walked through the village, and I was honored to meet the All Saint's church chairman. Chai tea was served along with coffee beans. I ate right into the bean and then found out I was supposed to take the bean out of its shell first. It was much more enjoyable to eat them without the shell. The seminarians had many questions for me about America. They were surprised to know that we have some of the same plant life as they do. Also they were surprised to hear that there were dark skinned people in America just like them.
Fr. Geronimos is the rector of four different parishes. Since Nativity was celebrated at All Saints, Fr. Geronimos celebrated Liturgy in the village of Kikagate on Sunday. I was told I needed to ride a motorcycle (pikipiki) to the church. There are no roads or smooth ground in the villages. The service was much like the day before. There were more children (watoto) in attendance at St. Anastasios. The stares continued, but I figured out a counter measure--smiling back at them. After Liturgy, traditionally the priest gives a homily (mahubiri) and then, the person we would call the church president, gives a short talk. Kihaya, the local dialect, was being spoken, so I was only able to use the men's body language to follow what was being said. Quickly I noticed people turning around and looking at me. The council president was also talking excitedly and pointing his finger in my direction. Fr. Geronimos would cut in on the president's talk and give a comment or two. At one point, I thought maybe there was a fight going on about my being in the village because of the way the two men's voices were getting louder and louder. I later found out that the president was telling the people what a blessing it was to celebrate the Divine Liturgy with a mzungu (westerner) at St. Anastasios because everyone can now see that there are Orthodox Christians in the western world. The president said that many people in villages like Kikagate will live until they are seventy years old before they ever see a westerner. I was just hoping that I made a good impression for all of the western world.
Father Geronimos, John, Thomas, Anastasios, and I all decided to walk home. We got caught in the rain, and so we took pikipiki back to the seminary. Dinner would be the last meal I would share with the seminarians, so we all said our official goodbyes. Father Geronimos talked about how happy he was to have me back in Kasikizi and hoped I would return again. Then each seminarian was asked to say something and there were tears (from me mostly) but a good bit of laughter as well. That evening the seminarians heard for the first time that I was a nurse. After dinner there were many questions about each man’s health concerns. I did my best to answer them (there was a huge need for dental care). The next morning we took the early bus (daladala). All of the seminarians had gotten up to see me off. I came home exhausted but renewed finally being able to visit my Kasikizi again.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Katie Wilcoxson's Village Visits, Thanksgiving, and More
Furaha na Amani!
My family, friends, and support team: Without your prayers and gifts, I could not have fullfilled my lifelong dream to be a missionary nurse in Africa. I continue to feel at home; of course I miss my family, but I have been blessed to have a new family here in Tanzania!
My teammates and I arrived in Tanzania five months ago. We have yet to being our "work" that we came here to do, medical work. Some might say, "What is taking so long for you to start your ministry. Why can't you just start working at the hospital and start the 'exciting part'?" We understand that frustration because, in many ways, it doesn't look like we are spreading the Gospel, and bringing people into the Church. But we have been doing this work since we walked off the airplane.
We work towards bringing people into the church many times in a day. We are constantly looked at and seen as outsiders. Lots of times we are judged, and our actions and words are looked at under a microscope. Because we are foreigners and because we are missionaries, we are expected to "act a certain" way. While walking down the street, meeting people in the hostel where we used to live, or waiting in a line at the post office, we are given the opportunity to tell people where we are from and what we are doing here. We have the opportunity to speak about the Church, and many times people actually listen.
Throughout history, Orthodox mission work has taken a long time. Saint Herman travelled from Finland, through Russia and across Siberia before getting to the native people Alaska. Saints Cyril and Methodius developed the Slavic language before even beginning their mission work. Saint Nicholas of Japan, who's story I connect with, had the same frustration that I have with learning a new language. It is hard having people laugh at you because you mispronounce or mix up words. People sometimes laugh when you are speaking correctly. It is hard to hear all the laughing on certain days, after a long language lesson, especially.
So it just takes time, but I'm sure you would also like to know what we have been doing since we arrived in Bukoba.
Metropolitan Jeronymos is our boss, and he is a very busy man. He is constantly traveling to villages where parishes are already established and flourishing or where he feels there is one needed. To give you an idea of what that kind of travel is like, let me tell you about an experience I had. Not too long ago, I had the wonderful blessing to travel to Mibwera, a village about a 2 1/2 hour bus ride from Bukoba. This dala dala (bus) ride was a different experience from my other travels. Father Spyridon insisted that I sit in the front seat with the driver. I thought to myself, "I don't want to be the muzugu (white person) that gets special treatment." Boy, was I in for a surprise: no special treatment here! On this dala dala, which could be described as a workmen's van, there were seats, but also people are required to "stand up" (bend down like they are stuck in a square box). Then in the front seat is where up to 5 +(not including the driver) people can sit in a bucket type seat. The front seat passengers are also required to hold, mainly in their laps, all of the fragile cargo the passengers traveling on the dala dala bring with them (ex: bread, valuables, and children). So that was me: one of the six people in the front row with an unidentifiable package and 3 loafs of bread in my lap.
Father Spyridon and I arrived just outside the village. We walked the rest of the way to the church, St. Demitiros, where Orthos was just about to wrap up. This was the parish's feast day, and Metropolitan Jeronymos was present, so all of the secondary school children were preparing to put on a show for the celebration. A few years ago the secondary school was built by a group from Greece. This is the only Orthodox secondary school in Tanzania. Even though it is Orthodox, children from any type of background are allowed to attend.
The afternoon was filled with celebration for the parish's feast day and for the presence of the Metropolitan. There was dancing and singing, and even some rapping by the children and adults. It was a wonderful show that was put on by the people of Mibwera. Then the Metropolitan asked me to travel back to Bukoba with him in his car. So we all scrunched into this land rover. Seminarians, from the diocese's seminary in Kazikazi, were in the back. Three others and I were in the "back seat", and the Metropolitan, Demtri (a driver for the diocese), and a man named Anastaios were in the front. Laughing and Kiswahili could be heard the whole way to Kazikazi. I was hoping to see Mama Maria, a woman I met when I first visited Tanzania eight years ago, when we dropped off the seminarians, but she wasn't around. I still have a year and a half to reconnect with her. I did get to spend a little time with Fr, Geronimos, our host priest eight years ago in Kazikazi.
I arrived back home and told Michael and Felice about my exciting day. I was so tired; we had Vespers and I went to bed after returning a few more emails.
Finding a language teacher, or nurturer as the program we use calls them, is a hard process. The person has to speak and read English fairly well, have the availability to spend two to four hours with you five times a week, and be really, really patient. These are just a few of the qualities that one person needs to have for you to get the best language training possible. Glory to God, after many false starts on finding a nurturer, Felice Stewart, my fellow missionary teammate, and I found a nurturer that we can share!
Thanksgiving was figured out at the last moment. We wanted to invite our new friends and family. Since Thanksgiving isn't celebrated here, many people were not available to celebrate with us. We had just hired our cook/housekeeper and guard/gardner, and James Hargrave, our fellow missionary teammate, arrived a few days earlier to help us restart our Kiswahili lessons. Since James lived in a remote village in Africa for many years of his childhood, unlike us, he knew how to cook from scratch. And, surprisingly, he loves to cook. So God, as always, had the perfect plan for our celebration of Thanksgiving. My name day fell on Thanksgiving Day this year. So the day was extra special for Papazia Katherine, Fr. Spyridon's wife, and for myself. In celebration of both occasions, James cooked a chocolate cake from scratch! It was a wonderful day. We also had some unexpected guests which made the celebration bigger.
Again, I can't say this enough: I could not have come to Africa to fulfill my lifelong dream without your prayers, my family, friends, and wonderful and generous support team.
My family, friends, and support team: Without your prayers and gifts, I could not have fullfilled my lifelong dream to be a missionary nurse in Africa. I continue to feel at home; of course I miss my family, but I have been blessed to have a new family here in Tanzania!
My teammates and I arrived in Tanzania five months ago. We have yet to being our "work" that we came here to do, medical work. Some might say, "What is taking so long for you to start your ministry. Why can't you just start working at the hospital and start the 'exciting part'?" We understand that frustration because, in many ways, it doesn't look like we are spreading the Gospel, and bringing people into the Church. But we have been doing this work since we walked off the airplane.
We work towards bringing people into the church many times in a day. We are constantly looked at and seen as outsiders. Lots of times we are judged, and our actions and words are looked at under a microscope. Because we are foreigners and because we are missionaries, we are expected to "act a certain" way. While walking down the street, meeting people in the hostel where we used to live, or waiting in a line at the post office, we are given the opportunity to tell people where we are from and what we are doing here. We have the opportunity to speak about the Church, and many times people actually listen.
Throughout history, Orthodox mission work has taken a long time. Saint Herman travelled from Finland, through Russia and across Siberia before getting to the native people Alaska. Saints Cyril and Methodius developed the Slavic language before even beginning their mission work. Saint Nicholas of Japan, who's story I connect with, had the same frustration that I have with learning a new language. It is hard having people laugh at you because you mispronounce or mix up words. People sometimes laugh when you are speaking correctly. It is hard to hear all the laughing on certain days, after a long language lesson, especially.
So it just takes time, but I'm sure you would also like to know what we have been doing since we arrived in Bukoba.
Metropolitan Jeronymos is our boss, and he is a very busy man. He is constantly traveling to villages where parishes are already established and flourishing or where he feels there is one needed. To give you an idea of what that kind of travel is like, let me tell you about an experience I had. Not too long ago, I had the wonderful blessing to travel to Mibwera, a village about a 2 1/2 hour bus ride from Bukoba. This dala dala (bus) ride was a different experience from my other travels. Father Spyridon insisted that I sit in the front seat with the driver. I thought to myself, "I don't want to be the muzugu (white person) that gets special treatment." Boy, was I in for a surprise: no special treatment here! On this dala dala, which could be described as a workmen's van, there were seats, but also people are required to "stand up" (bend down like they are stuck in a square box). Then in the front seat is where up to 5 +(not including the driver) people can sit in a bucket type seat. The front seat passengers are also required to hold, mainly in their laps, all of the fragile cargo the passengers traveling on the dala dala bring with them (ex: bread, valuables, and children). So that was me: one of the six people in the front row with an unidentifiable package and 3 loafs of bread in my lap.
Father Spyridon and I arrived just outside the village. We walked the rest of the way to the church, St. Demitiros, where Orthos was just about to wrap up. This was the parish's feast day, and Metropolitan Jeronymos was present, so all of the secondary school children were preparing to put on a show for the celebration. A few years ago the secondary school was built by a group from Greece. This is the only Orthodox secondary school in Tanzania. Even though it is Orthodox, children from any type of background are allowed to attend.
The afternoon was filled with celebration for the parish's feast day and for the presence of the Metropolitan. There was dancing and singing, and even some rapping by the children and adults. It was a wonderful show that was put on by the people of Mibwera. Then the Metropolitan asked me to travel back to Bukoba with him in his car. So we all scrunched into this land rover. Seminarians, from the diocese's seminary in Kazikazi, were in the back. Three others and I were in the "back seat", and the Metropolitan, Demtri (a driver for the diocese), and a man named Anastaios were in the front. Laughing and Kiswahili could be heard the whole way to Kazikazi. I was hoping to see Mama Maria, a woman I met when I first visited Tanzania eight years ago, when we dropped off the seminarians, but she wasn't around. I still have a year and a half to reconnect with her. I did get to spend a little time with Fr, Geronimos, our host priest eight years ago in Kazikazi.
I arrived back home and told Michael and Felice about my exciting day. I was so tired; we had Vespers and I went to bed after returning a few more emails.
Finding a language teacher, or nurturer as the program we use calls them, is a hard process. The person has to speak and read English fairly well, have the availability to spend two to four hours with you five times a week, and be really, really patient. These are just a few of the qualities that one person needs to have for you to get the best language training possible. Glory to God, after many false starts on finding a nurturer, Felice Stewart, my fellow missionary teammate, and I found a nurturer that we can share!
Thanksgiving was figured out at the last moment. We wanted to invite our new friends and family. Since Thanksgiving isn't celebrated here, many people were not available to celebrate with us. We had just hired our cook/housekeeper and guard/gardner, and James Hargrave, our fellow missionary teammate, arrived a few days earlier to help us restart our Kiswahili lessons. Since James lived in a remote village in Africa for many years of his childhood, unlike us, he knew how to cook from scratch. And, surprisingly, he loves to cook. So God, as always, had the perfect plan for our celebration of Thanksgiving. My name day fell on Thanksgiving Day this year. So the day was extra special for Papazia Katherine, Fr. Spyridon's wife, and for myself. In celebration of both occasions, James cooked a chocolate cake from scratch! It was a wonderful day. We also had some unexpected guests which made the celebration bigger.
Again, I can't say this enough: I could not have come to Africa to fulfill my lifelong dream without your prayers, my family, friends, and wonderful and generous support team.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
2 By 2: Katie Wilcoxson's Interview of Two Priests from Two Different Continents
If you have 11 minutes to indulge in something very goofy (and, in a lot of ways, very touching), this is a video of a Skype session that the parish and Church school children, of Saint John the Forerunner, where my father is the parish priest, Father Aidan Wilcoxson, did with my teammates, our parish priest, Father Spyridon Kaizilege, of Holy Apostle's parish in Bukoba, Tanzania, several of our Tanzanian friends, and myself.
Go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsUlXVsOhHw
Practically, though, the experiment might also prove helpful to priests and folks who work with young people throughout the world since the Saint John's parish used a (free) Skype session on their bookstore computer right after Divine Liturgy (around noon their time); as you can hear in the video, that's about 9:00PM Tanzanian time. But my team and I would love to talk with other communities in the same way, and it's a wonderful opportunity to learn about Orthodoxy around the world (and the interesting things other Orthodox Christians eat). Those who are interested in doing this can contact me at k.wilcoxson@ocmc.org.
Go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsUlXVsOhHw
Practically, though, the experiment might also prove helpful to priests and folks who work with young people throughout the world since the Saint John's parish used a (free) Skype session on their bookstore computer right after Divine Liturgy (around noon their time); as you can hear in the video, that's about 9:00PM Tanzanian time. But my team and I would love to talk with other communities in the same way, and it's a wonderful opportunity to learn about Orthodoxy around the world (and the interesting things other Orthodox Christians eat). Those who are interested in doing this can contact me at k.wilcoxson@ocmc.org.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Katie Wilcoxson: Missionary to Tanzania IN NURSE MODE
Even though I haven't started working as a nurse at Resurrection Hospital here in Bukoba, I have had the opportunity to use my nursing skills.
My first opportunity was when the majority of priests from the Archdiocese came to Bukoba to have a seminar. Many different topics were addressed including the recent economy. Father Spyridon knew I was just itching to use my nursing skills, and he told me, after one of the Liturgies during the seminary, that one of the priests had come down with malaria. I looked up the medicine he was on, and he was being treated for one of the more complicated malarial parasites. I did worry about him and prayed for his recovery knowing that he could easily need to go to the hospital if he was not able to stay hydrated.
The next morning, Fr. Spyridon informed me that Father Evangelos was unable to stay hydrated. He was now in the hospital in Bukoba. I was able to walk to one of the small convenient stores and find some juice, water, and straws to help Father keep hydrated. In the hospital, family and friends are expected to do comfort care (i.e., bring food to patient and take care of their needs). Medications are given by the nurse, and a doctor comes to see the patient once a day (and more often if necessary), but friends and family have to provide all the personal care. I was surprised how security conscience the hospital was about visitation and who can enter and see the patients. Father had a private room because the other bed in the room was broken. What I could see from his room was that most of the other rooms were semi-private. Father looked very weak, but he was awake and speaking, so I was happy about that. I gave him instructions on how to use the juice and water. That was translated in to Kiswahili, and we chatted with him. Not long after, four or five of the priests from the seminar arrived, and we all prayed and left Father so he could rest.
We came back that night, and I was happy to see that Father had finished a liter and a half of the juice/water mix. He said he was feeling better ,and he looked stronger than when I first met him. The following day, we came to the hospital to see him with some food. We had bought it from a local restaurant. Most restaurants in Bukoba all serve the same food (mashed and cooked bananas, rice, beans, chicken/goat/beef/fish, cooked spinach). I knew, from having malaria back in September, that Father would not want to eat a lot ,and that it was most important to keep him hydrated. It was difficult to explain this information, but, thank goodness, they trusted me, and, in fact , Father was only able to take a few bites before he became nauseated. We returned that evening and were able to speak with the doctor taking care of Father. He was a very kind man and was very knowledgeable. I knew Father was in good hands. Malaria is regarded as the common cold here. Yes, it is taken very seriously, but if the patient is able to stay hydrated, then there is no need to go to the hospital. It is wonderful to know that we can go to the government hospital here in Bukoba for malaria and that we will be taken care of properly.
A few weeks ago, Father Spyridon's children (Sophia (4) and Simeone (9 months)) were diagnosed with malaria. Father was in a village doing Liturgy for one of four of the parishes for which he is responsible. I received a text from him asking for my help going to the pharmacy to pick up the children's medicine. I saw the children before we went to the hospital, and I knew they didn't feel well. We got the medicines and instructions and came back to the house. I explained the different medicines that each child needed to take. Michael translated for me. I was very impressed how Papazia (Father Spyridon's wife) gave Simeone his medicine. Most nine month olds don't like to take medicines . As a nurse I sometimes see parents have a hard time giving their child the medicines. Papazia did a great job, and Simeone was fine after the trauma of taking the medicine was over. Later in the day, I checked on the children, and I could tell they were feeling better. Sophia grabbed my hand and started clapping her hand and mine together, like she always does. A week later, Sophia and Simeone were doing great and not having any problems.
It was wonderful to be able to help Fr. Evangelos, Sophia, and Simeone. I am grateful that they are doing better and also for God giving me this chance to be a nurse again.
My first opportunity was when the majority of priests from the Archdiocese came to Bukoba to have a seminar. Many different topics were addressed including the recent economy. Father Spyridon knew I was just itching to use my nursing skills, and he told me, after one of the Liturgies during the seminary, that one of the priests had come down with malaria. I looked up the medicine he was on, and he was being treated for one of the more complicated malarial parasites. I did worry about him and prayed for his recovery knowing that he could easily need to go to the hospital if he was not able to stay hydrated.
The next morning, Fr. Spyridon informed me that Father Evangelos was unable to stay hydrated. He was now in the hospital in Bukoba. I was able to walk to one of the small convenient stores and find some juice, water, and straws to help Father keep hydrated. In the hospital, family and friends are expected to do comfort care (i.e., bring food to patient and take care of their needs). Medications are given by the nurse, and a doctor comes to see the patient once a day (and more often if necessary), but friends and family have to provide all the personal care. I was surprised how security conscience the hospital was about visitation and who can enter and see the patients. Father had a private room because the other bed in the room was broken. What I could see from his room was that most of the other rooms were semi-private. Father looked very weak, but he was awake and speaking, so I was happy about that. I gave him instructions on how to use the juice and water. That was translated in to Kiswahili, and we chatted with him. Not long after, four or five of the priests from the seminar arrived, and we all prayed and left Father so he could rest.
We came back that night, and I was happy to see that Father had finished a liter and a half of the juice/water mix. He said he was feeling better ,and he looked stronger than when I first met him. The following day, we came to the hospital to see him with some food. We had bought it from a local restaurant. Most restaurants in Bukoba all serve the same food (mashed and cooked bananas, rice, beans, chicken/goat/beef/fish, cooked spinach). I knew, from having malaria back in September, that Father would not want to eat a lot ,and that it was most important to keep him hydrated. It was difficult to explain this information, but, thank goodness, they trusted me, and, in fact , Father was only able to take a few bites before he became nauseated. We returned that evening and were able to speak with the doctor taking care of Father. He was a very kind man and was very knowledgeable. I knew Father was in good hands. Malaria is regarded as the common cold here. Yes, it is taken very seriously, but if the patient is able to stay hydrated, then there is no need to go to the hospital. It is wonderful to know that we can go to the government hospital here in Bukoba for malaria and that we will be taken care of properly.
A few weeks ago, Father Spyridon's children (Sophia (4) and Simeone (9 months)) were diagnosed with malaria. Father was in a village doing Liturgy for one of four of the parishes for which he is responsible. I received a text from him asking for my help going to the pharmacy to pick up the children's medicine. I saw the children before we went to the hospital, and I knew they didn't feel well. We got the medicines and instructions and came back to the house. I explained the different medicines that each child needed to take. Michael translated for me. I was very impressed how Papazia (Father Spyridon's wife) gave Simeone his medicine. Most nine month olds don't like to take medicines . As a nurse I sometimes see parents have a hard time giving their child the medicines. Papazia did a great job, and Simeone was fine after the trauma of taking the medicine was over. Later in the day, I checked on the children, and I could tell they were feeling better. Sophia grabbed my hand and started clapping her hand and mine together, like she always does. A week later, Sophia and Simeone were doing great and not having any problems.
It was wonderful to be able to help Fr. Evangelos, Sophia, and Simeone. I am grateful that they are doing better and also for God giving me this chance to be a nurse again.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Greetings from Dar es Salaam, Africa! : An Update from OCMC Missionary Katie Wilcoxson
It has been almost three months since my arrival in Africa. It is nothing like I had expected as many things are in our lives. The top five unexpected things on my list are:
--How intense the sun is! There is a wonderful breeze everyday, but the sun's intensity is astonishing.
--Being loved by some and thanked many times by most.
--The mosquitoes in Africa fly really slowly, so they are easy to kill. However, the mosquitoes are also stealthy with their biting.
--How it is very easy to buy everything one needs for daily living on the bus (dala dala) while sitting in traffic.
--How limited the food choices are in the city. I can't believe how many "pub like" food establishments there are in Tanzania.
While I have been in Dar es Salaam, I have had many opportunities to learn about Tanzanian culture. Once a week we go on cultural outings: to the Tanzanian national museum, a tribal museum, and even shopping in a district called Kariokoo. I bought a tennis racket, a cutting board, congas (wraps that have many uses), tupperware, postal stamps, and internet usage cards.
One weekend I was able to talk with a Maasai man, who lives at the Salvation Army (where we have our Swahili lessons). I asked him if he could show us the famous "Maasai jumping dance” (Adumu). So he set it up and got some of his friends! We squashed 5 people into a taxi and headed off to a remote area with no paved roads. We bumped, screamed (mainly me), and laughed our way to where the Maasai men were preparing to adumu (dance). For the first time, our group of wazugu (foreigners) were not the center of attention. What I did not realize is that the Maasai people are just as much of a spectacle to most Tanzanians as are Americans/foreigners. So we (Maasai and wazugu) came together to celebrate Maasai dancing, but unintentionally celebrated our likenesses. We watched and cheered for 3 hours until they needed a soda break. I found out later that many in the Maasai tribe are Christian (mainly Roman Catholic). Warriors are the only members of the Maasai community who wear long hair, and they spend a great deal of time styling their hair. It is dressed with animal fat and ocher, and parted across the top of the head at ear level.
The next day, instead of attending St Paraskevi Cathedral, we visited a different parish, The Dormition of the Theotokos in the Mbezi beach region of Dar es Salaam. The church is located on the top of a hill. The nave is no bigger than two dining room tables placed side by side. The church was packed. Not counting the five of us, the faithful (including children) numbered twenty. The music we witnessed was from the angels. Everyone joined in singing the hymns, and the service reminded me of the churches my OCMC short-term mission team visited in 2002. I was part of a team of fourteen, then. We stayed in a small village called Kazsikazi. We joined the people of Kazsikazi in building All Saints Orthodox Church. Everyone--even the small children of the village-- helped bring the empty bags of dirt to us to refill. We were given the task of digging out the area for the narthex. All Saints Greek Orthodox Church in Pittsburgh, PA, sponsored the building of the church in the village of Kazsikazi. We also travelled with His Eminence Jeronymos to multiple parishes around the Bukoba Archdiocese. All that came back to me as I listened to the singing of the little children, men, and women: I could hear their gusto, passion, and love.
17 September 2010
His Eminence Dimitrios arrived from Greece. He wanted to take us out for lunch. To spend this time with His Eminence (H.E.) and my team before James left for Mwanza was very important to me, even though I was feeling sick. As the day went on I became more and more ill. I just thought, "it's a virus, it will pass." I had felt this way once before since I have been here in Dar es Salaam, and I was fine the next day after giving my stomach a rest and staying hydrated. I thought: "I am an ER nurse: I can treat a stomach virus." But my sick feeling got so bad that I had to excuse myself from the lunch because the smell of the food was too much for my temperamental stomach. On our way home, H.E. was driving; the car ran out of diesel, and we had to wait for someone from the Cathedral to help us get home. At this time I was actually feeling a little better. We then made our way to the Cathedral where H.E. stays while he is in Dar es Salaam. Again my symptoms were becoming worse, and I requested that I lay down while we waited for a taxi to take us home. I got into the taxi, and we made our way back to the hostel. The last road to our hostel is a VERY VERY bumpy one. I usually love the experience of bumping around in the car, but this time was it totally different. I had never felt this much pain, thank God, so the tears came out in liters. At one point, I had to quickly ask that the car be stopped so that I could take a break from the bumpy road. This caused quite a traffic jam, as I was told later by my friends. I was able, with the help of the taxi driver and Michael, my missionary teammate in Tanzania, to get back in the car and finish our trip back to our hostel. I made my way up the stairs to my room. I got in my pajamas and lay down in bed. Felice, my missionary teammate, came into my room, and we talked about the days' events. Our debriefing didn't last very long due to the fact that she lost her voice. Felice reminded me she was just a phone call away if I decided I needed to go to the hospital at anytime. It wasn't even two hours, before I realized the pain had started to increase in my stomach. So I got myself ready for a trip to the hospital and walked to Felice's room. I woke her up, and we made our way to the hostel's reception area. The taxi arrived, and we started on what seemed like a cross country trip to Aga Khan hospital, which was recommended by the hostel’s staff. At the beginning of our trip to the hospital the driver stopped to get diesel. After filling up the car, the pain in my stomach began increasing in intensity. The drive started to become overwhelmingly painful. It felt like we were only driving over rocks and not a road. On our arrival to the hospital, I crawled into the ER and was able to go straight back to a bed. I cried in agony and worked with the doctors and let them do what they needed to do to find out why I was having this pain. The pain never ceased even with the pain medicine I was given. Throughout the tests, I frantically tried to call the team, Michael, His Eminences Jeronymos and H.E. Dimitrios. Many of the phone numbers I did not have so I continued to call whomever I could reach. I spoke with Michael, and he started the phone chain to notify the Missions Department at OCMC, and the local clergy (Fr. Peter and Fr. Frumentios). I was all alone in my room, because in Tanzania the friend/family member's job is to pay for each item that has been ordered by the doctor (doctor's order), to take the blood to the lab, and to get the results. Felice was doing all this, and playing many, many other roles that night, and she showed peace through it all. It was incredible how much she advocated, consoled, and had such peace about the whole ordeal. Radiological and blood tests were done, and it was discovered that I had appendicitis. I was numb. I started crying and became terrified that I was going to have to have surgery in Tanzania. I told the surgeon that I needed to speak with my parents and friends in the states. I then spoke with my parents and told them what was going on. Since Felice was busy being my lab runner and bill payer, I felt very alone. I told them, I am so scared over and over. Then my dad interrupted said, "Katie you are not alone. You are never never never alone never ever. You have Christ Jesus, His mother, Saint Catherine, Saint Aidan, Saint Ann, Saint Brendan, Saint Elisabeth, the Archangel Michael, Saint James, Saint Dimitrios, Saint Jeronymos, Saint Innocent, Saint Nicholas of Japan, Saint Basil, Saint John the Forerunner, Saint Elisabeth the New, Saint David, and all of the saints in heaven. My dad prayed with my mom, Felice, and me. Christ Jesus, His mother and all of the saints in heaven were there with us in Aga Khan hospital that night. My father asked me soon after that, "Do you feel like you need to come home?" I immediately said "no".
I have felt the calling to become a missionary in Africa for twenty years. My parents have been amazingly supportive all of these years. Through all of the difficulties I have faced and will face during the last twenty and the next two years, it is all for the good of my salvation. Even though one of my worst fears came true, it has only affirmed to me that only with Christ Jesus and all of the saints in heaven, can I continue to assist in the mission field in East Africa. This experience will not only help me to be a better nurse, it will also help me be a better person.
As a registered nurse (RN), I enjoy taking care of people when they are seriously sick. Many times it is hard to understand why someone is so upset over what is, to us, as medical professionals, a simple task/procedure. Many times, we as RNs think someone is over-reacting to their situation (getting an IV, or medication injection). As RN's/doctors we lose our compassion for peoples' fears. We get too busy and don't find out the important things that give us the whole picture of the whole person. I have been a patient before; I have been in doctors' offices; I have had a day surgery, and, once, I had to go to the ER after having surgery. But this time of being the patient opened my eyes to something, that I sometimes forget. As a nurse, I have always concentrated on what I needed to do to the patient to get them better. I often didn't step back enough to listen to them. But, in this situation, even though I understood everything that was going on, it was just different. I tried to be an obedient patient, but the medical system is very different--not to mention the cultural differences and language. Everything that was done to me, I had done to others hundreds of time. But now I will try to understand and sympathize more with my patients about their fears and emotions that they might have when they receive unexpected news.
Ten days after being discharged from the hospital, I left Dar es Salaam with my fellow missionaries (James Hargrave, Michael Pagedas, and Felice Stewart) and arrived in Mwanza. Mwanza is where His Eminence Jeronymos's Archdiocese office is located. We spent a day or so with His Eminence and then left for Bukoba, where we will live for the next two years. We will be working at Resurrection Hospital and assist in projects as His Eminence requests. His Eminence departed for the annual synod meeting in Egypt just before we left for Bukoba, and we have now been here for a little over a week. We have continued to unpack, and we are gradually getting settled in our home. His Eminence is schedule to return from Egypt at the end of the week. We will ask for his blessing to continue learning Kiswahili and to gradually help at the hospital. This is a very exciting time, especially for myself. I have been itching to start clinical work. Even though I will only spend a few hours a week at the hospital, I am so happy to start to "dip my pinky toe" into medical care in Tanzania!
--How intense the sun is! There is a wonderful breeze everyday, but the sun's intensity is astonishing.
--Being loved by some and thanked many times by most.
--The mosquitoes in Africa fly really slowly, so they are easy to kill. However, the mosquitoes are also stealthy with their biting.
--How it is very easy to buy everything one needs for daily living on the bus (dala dala) while sitting in traffic.
--How limited the food choices are in the city. I can't believe how many "pub like" food establishments there are in Tanzania.
While I have been in Dar es Salaam, I have had many opportunities to learn about Tanzanian culture. Once a week we go on cultural outings: to the Tanzanian national museum, a tribal museum, and even shopping in a district called Kariokoo. I bought a tennis racket, a cutting board, congas (wraps that have many uses), tupperware, postal stamps, and internet usage cards.
One weekend I was able to talk with a Maasai man, who lives at the Salvation Army (where we have our Swahili lessons). I asked him if he could show us the famous "Maasai jumping dance” (Adumu). So he set it up and got some of his friends! We squashed 5 people into a taxi and headed off to a remote area with no paved roads. We bumped, screamed (mainly me), and laughed our way to where the Maasai men were preparing to adumu (dance). For the first time, our group of wazugu (foreigners) were not the center of attention. What I did not realize is that the Maasai people are just as much of a spectacle to most Tanzanians as are Americans/foreigners. So we (Maasai and wazugu) came together to celebrate Maasai dancing, but unintentionally celebrated our likenesses. We watched and cheered for 3 hours until they needed a soda break. I found out later that many in the Maasai tribe are Christian (mainly Roman Catholic). Warriors are the only members of the Maasai community who wear long hair, and they spend a great deal of time styling their hair. It is dressed with animal fat and ocher, and parted across the top of the head at ear level.
The next day, instead of attending St Paraskevi Cathedral, we visited a different parish, The Dormition of the Theotokos in the Mbezi beach region of Dar es Salaam. The church is located on the top of a hill. The nave is no bigger than two dining room tables placed side by side. The church was packed. Not counting the five of us, the faithful (including children) numbered twenty. The music we witnessed was from the angels. Everyone joined in singing the hymns, and the service reminded me of the churches my OCMC short-term mission team visited in 2002. I was part of a team of fourteen, then. We stayed in a small village called Kazsikazi. We joined the people of Kazsikazi in building All Saints Orthodox Church. Everyone--even the small children of the village-- helped bring the empty bags of dirt to us to refill. We were given the task of digging out the area for the narthex. All Saints Greek Orthodox Church in Pittsburgh, PA, sponsored the building of the church in the village of Kazsikazi. We also travelled with His Eminence Jeronymos to multiple parishes around the Bukoba Archdiocese. All that came back to me as I listened to the singing of the little children, men, and women: I could hear their gusto, passion, and love.
17 September 2010
His Eminence Dimitrios arrived from Greece. He wanted to take us out for lunch. To spend this time with His Eminence (H.E.) and my team before James left for Mwanza was very important to me, even though I was feeling sick. As the day went on I became more and more ill. I just thought, "it's a virus, it will pass." I had felt this way once before since I have been here in Dar es Salaam, and I was fine the next day after giving my stomach a rest and staying hydrated. I thought: "I am an ER nurse: I can treat a stomach virus." But my sick feeling got so bad that I had to excuse myself from the lunch because the smell of the food was too much for my temperamental stomach. On our way home, H.E. was driving; the car ran out of diesel, and we had to wait for someone from the Cathedral to help us get home. At this time I was actually feeling a little better. We then made our way to the Cathedral where H.E. stays while he is in Dar es Salaam. Again my symptoms were becoming worse, and I requested that I lay down while we waited for a taxi to take us home. I got into the taxi, and we made our way back to the hostel. The last road to our hostel is a VERY VERY bumpy one. I usually love the experience of bumping around in the car, but this time was it totally different. I had never felt this much pain, thank God, so the tears came out in liters. At one point, I had to quickly ask that the car be stopped so that I could take a break from the bumpy road. This caused quite a traffic jam, as I was told later by my friends. I was able, with the help of the taxi driver and Michael, my missionary teammate in Tanzania, to get back in the car and finish our trip back to our hostel. I made my way up the stairs to my room. I got in my pajamas and lay down in bed. Felice, my missionary teammate, came into my room, and we talked about the days' events. Our debriefing didn't last very long due to the fact that she lost her voice. Felice reminded me she was just a phone call away if I decided I needed to go to the hospital at anytime. It wasn't even two hours, before I realized the pain had started to increase in my stomach. So I got myself ready for a trip to the hospital and walked to Felice's room. I woke her up, and we made our way to the hostel's reception area. The taxi arrived, and we started on what seemed like a cross country trip to Aga Khan hospital, which was recommended by the hostel’s staff. At the beginning of our trip to the hospital the driver stopped to get diesel. After filling up the car, the pain in my stomach began increasing in intensity. The drive started to become overwhelmingly painful. It felt like we were only driving over rocks and not a road. On our arrival to the hospital, I crawled into the ER and was able to go straight back to a bed. I cried in agony and worked with the doctors and let them do what they needed to do to find out why I was having this pain. The pain never ceased even with the pain medicine I was given. Throughout the tests, I frantically tried to call the team, Michael, His Eminences Jeronymos and H.E. Dimitrios. Many of the phone numbers I did not have so I continued to call whomever I could reach. I spoke with Michael, and he started the phone chain to notify the Missions Department at OCMC, and the local clergy (Fr. Peter and Fr. Frumentios). I was all alone in my room, because in Tanzania the friend/family member's job is to pay for each item that has been ordered by the doctor (doctor's order), to take the blood to the lab, and to get the results. Felice was doing all this, and playing many, many other roles that night, and she showed peace through it all. It was incredible how much she advocated, consoled, and had such peace about the whole ordeal. Radiological and blood tests were done, and it was discovered that I had appendicitis. I was numb. I started crying and became terrified that I was going to have to have surgery in Tanzania. I told the surgeon that I needed to speak with my parents and friends in the states. I then spoke with my parents and told them what was going on. Since Felice was busy being my lab runner and bill payer, I felt very alone. I told them, I am so scared over and over. Then my dad interrupted said, "Katie you are not alone. You are never never never alone never ever. You have Christ Jesus, His mother, Saint Catherine, Saint Aidan, Saint Ann, Saint Brendan, Saint Elisabeth, the Archangel Michael, Saint James, Saint Dimitrios, Saint Jeronymos, Saint Innocent, Saint Nicholas of Japan, Saint Basil, Saint John the Forerunner, Saint Elisabeth the New, Saint David, and all of the saints in heaven. My dad prayed with my mom, Felice, and me. Christ Jesus, His mother and all of the saints in heaven were there with us in Aga Khan hospital that night. My father asked me soon after that, "Do you feel like you need to come home?" I immediately said "no".
I have felt the calling to become a missionary in Africa for twenty years. My parents have been amazingly supportive all of these years. Through all of the difficulties I have faced and will face during the last twenty and the next two years, it is all for the good of my salvation. Even though one of my worst fears came true, it has only affirmed to me that only with Christ Jesus and all of the saints in heaven, can I continue to assist in the mission field in East Africa. This experience will not only help me to be a better nurse, it will also help me be a better person.
As a registered nurse (RN), I enjoy taking care of people when they are seriously sick. Many times it is hard to understand why someone is so upset over what is, to us, as medical professionals, a simple task/procedure. Many times, we as RNs think someone is over-reacting to their situation (getting an IV, or medication injection). As RN's/doctors we lose our compassion for peoples' fears. We get too busy and don't find out the important things that give us the whole picture of the whole person. I have been a patient before; I have been in doctors' offices; I have had a day surgery, and, once, I had to go to the ER after having surgery. But this time of being the patient opened my eyes to something, that I sometimes forget. As a nurse, I have always concentrated on what I needed to do to the patient to get them better. I often didn't step back enough to listen to them. But, in this situation, even though I understood everything that was going on, it was just different. I tried to be an obedient patient, but the medical system is very different--not to mention the cultural differences and language. Everything that was done to me, I had done to others hundreds of time. But now I will try to understand and sympathize more with my patients about their fears and emotions that they might have when they receive unexpected news.
Ten days after being discharged from the hospital, I left Dar es Salaam with my fellow missionaries (James Hargrave, Michael Pagedas, and Felice Stewart) and arrived in Mwanza. Mwanza is where His Eminence Jeronymos's Archdiocese office is located. We spent a day or so with His Eminence and then left for Bukoba, where we will live for the next two years. We will be working at Resurrection Hospital and assist in projects as His Eminence requests. His Eminence departed for the annual synod meeting in Egypt just before we left for Bukoba, and we have now been here for a little over a week. We have continued to unpack, and we are gradually getting settled in our home. His Eminence is schedule to return from Egypt at the end of the week. We will ask for his blessing to continue learning Kiswahili and to gradually help at the hospital. This is a very exciting time, especially for myself. I have been itching to start clinical work. Even though I will only spend a few hours a week at the hospital, I am so happy to start to "dip my pinky toe" into medical care in Tanzania!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
OCMC Missionary Katie Wilcoxson Appendectomy Update
By God's grace and through your heartfelt prayers, Katie has come through and is recovering from her recent emergency appendectomy. This week Katie, Michael and Felice traveled to Bukoba where they take permanent residence, continuing language studies and beginning ministry in the hospital. Thank you for your continued prayers for Katie and for the entire team of long-term Orthodox missionaries serving in Tanzania.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Please Pray for OCMC Missionary Katie Wilcoxson
We request your prayers for OCMC Missionary Katie Wilcoxson, serving in Tanzania. After hours of severe pain her missionary colleagues took her to hospital (Dar es Salaam). The CAT Scan diagnosed appendicitis and they quickly prepared her for surgery which began around 4:45 AM and concluded around 6:30 AM (US time—Tanzania is 7 hrs. ahead of US Eastern Time). She is now in recovery. Her missionary “family” in Dar es Salaam include Felice Stewart (also a nurse) and Michael Pagedas (public health care admin.) and others who are caring for her. His Eminence, DIMITRIOS, (Met. of Irinoupolis) is at the hospital with her even as I write making sure she is well cared for.
Thank you for joining with us in prayer for Katie and for all who are caring for her. Remember her parents, Fr. Aidan and Khouria Cynthia and all at Katie’s home parish, St. John the Forerunner Orthodox Church (Cedar Park, TX), who have kept vigil with the Orthodox Christian Mission Center (OCMC) and her fellow-missionaries praying for Katie and providing love and support.
Thank you for joining with us in prayer for Katie and for all who are caring for her. Remember her parents, Fr. Aidan and Khouria Cynthia and all at Katie’s home parish, St. John the Forerunner Orthodox Church (Cedar Park, TX), who have kept vigil with the Orthodox Christian Mission Center (OCMC) and her fellow-missionaries praying for Katie and providing love and support.
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