Farah na amani! Joy and Peace!
Hello from Tanzania! The two months since my last letter to you have been extremely busy, but very educational and beneficial to me.
First, I was blessed to find a wonderful language and culture teacher, a lady named Methodia who grew up here in Bukoba, and also lived in England and Germany for close to twenty years. I’d prayed to God for weeks prior to my arrival here that He would send me the “right” nurturer from the start, and so He has: Mama Methodia has adopted me as her fifth child, and proudly declares that I will be speaking Kiswahili by Christmas. We are using a method of language acquisition where the first 100 hours of study do not involve me speaking, but rather listening to her speak to me, just the way infants first listen to their parents speak to them before they attempt to imitate sounds. I’ve been surprised both at how much fun I am having, and also at how quickly I seem to recognize many words. While I am not required to speak Kiswahili in class, I am allowed to use it as I feel able in normal activities, so I am becoming more comfortable greeting people and holding very simple conversations. My greatest delight is walking around town and having children attempt to greet me in English and being able to respond to them in Kiswahili. Yesterday as I walked along the beach to get to class, three children playing nearby watched me very solemnly until I asked them, “Habari ya mchana?” (How is your afternoon?) Their eyes got big and round, and the littlest boy who was about two or three squeaked out, “Shikamoo! Nzuri!” (Shikamoo is a greeting of respect to an elder. Nzuri means fine, or good.) It’s fun when I start running into the same group of kids each day on my way to school. There’s one family with three small children whose home I pass each day, and without fail the kids start waving excitedly when they see me. I feel less anxious about being in a foreign place and more welcome with each passing day, for which I am extremely grateful.
Most people ask me what a typical day is like, so I will attempt to answer that question very briefly. Every day starts at about 7 am, when the bells for Matins ring next door at the church. We attend Matins every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday it’s Matins and Liturgy. After service we enjoy a hot breakfast made by Mama Christina, our cook and housekeeper. After that it’s usually time for some chores—either going to the market or to pay a water or electricity bill, stop by the bank, or stay home and do laundry or clean my room. Then I spend an hour or so listening to the language lessons from the previous day, which I record and can store on my iPod. I also spend a little time each day preparing for the next language session—we have a curriculum provided for us, but it requires some thoughtful planning to execute well. Then I spend some time answering emails or updating my Facebook account, which I know many of you follow. It’s such a blessing to be able to communicate with folks from home so easily! Usually Mama Christina has lunch ready for us by 12:30, and by 12:45 I am out the door to walk down to the lake for my class. In the afternoon when I return I make myself a cup of tea and a snack and start the process of transferring the language recordings from that day’s session onto my computer, and then listening to them for another couple of hours, as well as reviewing previous sessions. I also usually do some more emailing at that point. By six we are back at church for Vespers, and then I make my own dinner—usually something simple. The evening might include more study, doing some relaxing reading, writing to my support team by email or “snail mail,” or chatting with my roommates about the day. Sometimes I get to call my family or friends, too! I try to get ready for bed by about 10, and am generally asleep by 11. On any particular day we might have visitors drop by, which changes the schedule a bit, and I am learning to be flexible with how to organize activities here.
Many people have asked for updates about how the work at the Orthodox clinic is going. My primary responsibility during the first six months to a year of service here is to focus entirely on language and cultural acquisition. People here generally do not speak much English, and without studying Kiswahili, I will not be able to care for patients without a translator. As the clinic will be functioning with the help of us as volunteers to staff it, there’s not provision for the hiring of translators. It has been challenging for me to “stop” being a nurse and to feel like I am “not working,” but the truth is that by working hard at language study I am building the foundation upon which my later nursing practice will depend. The Orthodox clinic is currently awaiting registration through the Tanzanian government in order to reopen. It was closed because it had originally been registered as a “hospital,” but since we cannot meet the staffing requirements to function as such, a new application had to be submitted. Please keep the registration and government approval of the clinic in your prayers. My hope is that the clinic will be ready to open at the same time that I am ready to focus more on direct patient care and less on language study, but I am also open to God’s will and am trying to accept whatever He asks me to do.
As many of you are aware, I did have the opportunity to use my medical background to conduct a health care needs assessment for the Turkana in northern Kenya last month, which is one reason you haven’t heard from me in a while. My fellow missionaries and I are also busy preparing to welcome an OCMC medical mission team that will provide medical care to rural areas in Tanzania for two weeks in October. My next update will include more detailed information about the trip to Kenya and about our preparations for the October team, and I’ll be sending it out shortly after this letter.
Thank you to each and every one of you for your faithful prayerful and financial support that sustains me here! I pray for all of you every morning when I thank God for allowing me to be here, and I thank you, too! Glory to God for all things!
Yours in Christ,
Maria
Showing posts with label Medical Missions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Medical Missions. Show all posts
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
The Beauty of Simplictity: 2011 OCMC Healthcare Team to Uganda
By Catherine Furry
I wish I could capture in words what it felt like to look into the eyes of the children who carried in their younger siblings to receive malaria treatment, the dehydrated baby separated from her young mother who was hospitalized with AIDS complications, the elderly grandparents suffering from chronic pain from years of intense physical labor to feed their families . . . and know that we were at least making a little bit of difference. I wish I could share with you the experience of handing out prescriptions in paper bags from our makeshift pharmacy on the bed of a pickup truck that we set up next to a little mud-wall, dirt-floor, straw-roof church (my favorite church ever!) and the grateful smile and "webale" (thank you) in return. To show up at a church in the morning and see a crowd of people already waiting for us, some of whom had walked miles and miles barefoot to get there, was a humbling experience.
The need that remains both in Uganda and world-wide is still great, but each interaction with the people we did encounter was an opportunity for us not only to serve and practice being witnesses of Christ’s love, but also to learn from the people with whom we interacted and build relationships. I think one of the biggest things I learned was the beauty of simplicity. Our operation wasn’t high tech -- we set up our clinics in the local Orthodox churches (though open to all faiths), used school benches to perform exams, and filled prescriptions on cardboard boxes – but we were still able to offer a little something of what we could give to several thousand people, and they received it with joy and gratitude, opening their hearts and homes to us. The love with which they welcomed us will always stay with me, and I’ve definitely come home inspired to continue serving both near my US home and hopefully abroad again.
I wish I could capture in words what it felt like to look into the eyes of the children who carried in their younger siblings to receive malaria treatment, the dehydrated baby separated from her young mother who was hospitalized with AIDS complications, the elderly grandparents suffering from chronic pain from years of intense physical labor to feed their families . . . and know that we were at least making a little bit of difference. I wish I could share with you the experience of handing out prescriptions in paper bags from our makeshift pharmacy on the bed of a pickup truck that we set up next to a little mud-wall, dirt-floor, straw-roof church (my favorite church ever!) and the grateful smile and "webale" (thank you) in return. To show up at a church in the morning and see a crowd of people already waiting for us, some of whom had walked miles and miles barefoot to get there, was a humbling experience.
The need that remains both in Uganda and world-wide is still great, but each interaction with the people we did encounter was an opportunity for us not only to serve and practice being witnesses of Christ’s love, but also to learn from the people with whom we interacted and build relationships. I think one of the biggest things I learned was the beauty of simplicity. Our operation wasn’t high tech -- we set up our clinics in the local Orthodox churches (though open to all faiths), used school benches to perform exams, and filled prescriptions on cardboard boxes – but we were still able to offer a little something of what we could give to several thousand people, and they received it with joy and gratitude, opening their hearts and homes to us. The love with which they welcomed us will always stay with me, and I’ve definitely come home inspired to continue serving both near my US home and hopefully abroad again.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The Work of the Holy Spirit in Uganda: by Team Member Penelope McClintock
Our first day of setting up a healthcare clinic in a small town in rural Uganda was a mild frenzy. Our small Team of eight Americans, consisting of two doctors, three nurses, and two students, was faced with the great challenge of providing basic medical care and medications to over one hundred Ugandans crowding around a church door and open window, which we turned into a makeshift doctor’s office and pharmacy. Amid the chaotic crowds waiting to receive their medicine, the piles of triage cards, and the constant chatter of mixed English and Lugandan (the major language spoken in the district of Sembabule), we managed to successfully treat and provide medication to children with intestinal worms, families stricken with malaria, babies with fevers, scalps balding due to ringworm, and women and men suffering from various STDs. Most patients received their prescriptions with enormous smiles, saying “Webale” (meaning “Thank you”), and would depart us with a shake of the hand in gratitude. It felt wonderful to provide these people with the medicine they needed, to eat with them, to discuss our lives together, and to connect over sharing a common faith although we live an entire ocean apart.
However, not every patient’s story was one of success that day. Of the hundreds of faces I met, the face of a teenage girl, simple and serene, held slightly crooked while she walked from the church on a crutch, stands out in my mind from that first clinic. We were able to diagnose the large infected wound in her shoulder as osteomyelitis, an infection of the bone and bone marrow. Without treatment, her infection was becoming progressively worse. Even though our Team offered her grandfather enough money to provide her transportation to a hospital, he refused to take her, and we had to leave the town that day knowing we could do nothing to help her. And yet, as our van made its way down the red dirt road away from the church, she smiled at us with the most grateful eyes, and waved us on our way.
Over the course of the next week, our Team vastly improved our efficiency in triage and prescription filling in the pharmacy. We would transform a stone church filled with wooden pews into a waiting area, examination area, shot area, wound care area, working pharmacy, and medication dispensary. Our Team worked together, along with the help of some wonderful translators and Ugandan Orthodox priests, to take what we learned from the chaos of the first clinic and turn it into a smooth and systematic operation.
However, riding down the bumpy road to our last clinic, none of us were prepared to be faced with our biggest challenge yet. The church we had to work with was not a large empty room filled with convenient wooden benches, but a dark tiny hut made of mud and straw. We had only a couple of benches to use for the doctors and pharmacy, and there was already a line of people eagerly awaiting our arrival. Because it was too dark inside the church for the doctors to see, we had to set up outside… and there were dark rainclouds forming in the distance. Although we were using boxes to make work tables, filling prescriptions in the back of a van, and grabbing the medicine and running inside the church every time we felt raindrops, we managed to see every single person who came to us that day. Just as the girl with osteomyelitis welcomed what little help we had for her, and did not pout at her misfortune but responded to us only with gratitude for what we could give her, I felt that our meager resources that day only made us more determined to run a successful clinic. Despite the simple setup, we provided the same quality of care and medicine, and we felt even deeper the spirit of the people we had come to help, experiencing life the way they do each day. This spirit, one of hospitality, gratitude, love, and delight in simplicity, is the most striking mark of the people in Uganda, and the most evident way that our Team was able to experience the work of the Holy Spirit in Africa.
The Orthodox Christian Mission Center (OCMC) organizes many different short-term Mission Teams. As a twenty-one year old nursing student, I joined a Healthcare Team based in Uganda. We spent two weeks setting up healthcare clinics and administering basic medications through the Orthodox Church in Uganda. This experience was incredibly humbling, and one that I will carry with me in both my spiritual and professional life as a nurse.
However, not every patient’s story was one of success that day. Of the hundreds of faces I met, the face of a teenage girl, simple and serene, held slightly crooked while she walked from the church on a crutch, stands out in my mind from that first clinic. We were able to diagnose the large infected wound in her shoulder as osteomyelitis, an infection of the bone and bone marrow. Without treatment, her infection was becoming progressively worse. Even though our Team offered her grandfather enough money to provide her transportation to a hospital, he refused to take her, and we had to leave the town that day knowing we could do nothing to help her. And yet, as our van made its way down the red dirt road away from the church, she smiled at us with the most grateful eyes, and waved us on our way.
Over the course of the next week, our Team vastly improved our efficiency in triage and prescription filling in the pharmacy. We would transform a stone church filled with wooden pews into a waiting area, examination area, shot area, wound care area, working pharmacy, and medication dispensary. Our Team worked together, along with the help of some wonderful translators and Ugandan Orthodox priests, to take what we learned from the chaos of the first clinic and turn it into a smooth and systematic operation.
However, riding down the bumpy road to our last clinic, none of us were prepared to be faced with our biggest challenge yet. The church we had to work with was not a large empty room filled with convenient wooden benches, but a dark tiny hut made of mud and straw. We had only a couple of benches to use for the doctors and pharmacy, and there was already a line of people eagerly awaiting our arrival. Because it was too dark inside the church for the doctors to see, we had to set up outside… and there were dark rainclouds forming in the distance. Although we were using boxes to make work tables, filling prescriptions in the back of a van, and grabbing the medicine and running inside the church every time we felt raindrops, we managed to see every single person who came to us that day. Just as the girl with osteomyelitis welcomed what little help we had for her, and did not pout at her misfortune but responded to us only with gratitude for what we could give her, I felt that our meager resources that day only made us more determined to run a successful clinic. Despite the simple setup, we provided the same quality of care and medicine, and we felt even deeper the spirit of the people we had come to help, experiencing life the way they do each day. This spirit, one of hospitality, gratitude, love, and delight in simplicity, is the most striking mark of the people in Uganda, and the most evident way that our Team was able to experience the work of the Holy Spirit in Africa.
The Orthodox Christian Mission Center (OCMC) organizes many different short-term Mission Teams. As a twenty-one year old nursing student, I joined a Healthcare Team based in Uganda. We spent two weeks setting up healthcare clinics and administering basic medications through the Orthodox Church in Uganda. This experience was incredibly humbling, and one that I will carry with me in both my spiritual and professional life as a nurse.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
To Supporters of Katie Wilcoxson
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
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
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Maria Roeber's First Report from the Field
Farah na amani! Joy and Peace!
This is the traditional Christian greeting here in Tanzania, and it’s one of the first phrases I’ve learned since arriving here about a week ago! Greetings from Bukoba!
My journey here started in State College, Pennsylvania where I’d been staying with my parents for the month of May, having moved out of my apartment in the DC area. While Mom headed to California to visit my brother, Dad drove me down to Washington, where I boarded a plane for London. My next flight took me to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Next I flew to Mwanza, a smaller city on the Eastern side of Lake Victoria. My fellow OCMC Missionary, Michael Pagedas, welcomed me to town and we spent a couple of days resting there before taking an overnight ferry across Lake Victoria to Bukoba!
I’m living in a house belonging to the Orthodox Church , right next to Twelve Apostles Orthodox Church, quite a fitting name since my first Sunday Liturgy here fell on the Feast of Pentecost! Between Matins and Liturgy, Kneeling Vespers and the Churching of a mother and child, the service lasted about four hours! Quite a welcome! I now know a few more phrases in Kiswahili: “Bwana hurumia,” means “Lord, have mercy,” and “Amina” means “Amen!” I’ve also learned that “Karibu!” means, “Welcome!” and everyone here says it to me! “Asante” means, “Thank you!” and I say that word more than anything else!
The weather here is a balmy 75 degrees, with blue skies and sunshine all day, every day. We’re officially in the “dry season,” so I’m being diligent about sunscreen and hats, as we’re very close to the equator . Outside the house are palm trees and roses in the front garden, as well as an avocado tree in the back yard! We’ve had guacamole for dinner a couple of times already!
Speaking of food, the diet here consists mostly of carbohydrate staples like beans and rice, and potatoes. We eat those every day for our main meal, and usually have some type of fried bread for breakfast. I’ve eaten pineapple and guava so far, and vegetables are usually green peppers, tomatoes, and eggplant. Dairy is fairly non-existent, although you can buy eggs here. Meat is rare in our household diet. We do have access to bottled water, which I am drinking almost to the exclusion of anything else!
Each morning the church bells awaken us for Matins, which is served at 7 am, and every evening we hear Father ring the bell for Vespers at 6 pm. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, we go to Liturgy. I’m blessed to have a copy of the Divine Liturgy with Kiswahili on one page and English on the next, so I am able to participate a little. I’ve been made most welcome in the congregation by many people, but especially by Simeon, our priest’s 16 month-old son. Simeon toddles up to me any time I enter church and either grabs my fingers to hold my hand or throws both of his arms around my knees until I pick him up. He’s been a delightful companion, as he’s in about the same language-development stage as I!
I have so much more to tell you, but I’ll save it for another update. Overall, I am well and am almost adjusted to the time change, I’m making small journeys into town to learn my way around and accomplish chores and errands, and I am blessed to live with dear friends and missionaries from the United States, so I am well supported by people who’ve been here for nearly a year.
Thank you so much for your prayers and support over the past year! I wouldn’t be here without you, and I am so excited to begin my ministry as a nurse and more importantly as a loving witness for Christ! You are in my prayers and I ask for yours! Glory to God for all things!
In Christ,
Maria
P.S. Check out the OCMC website or my Facebook page for videos and pictures of my commissioning in Washington, DC and of life here in Africa!
P.P.S. Feel free to email me by responding to this message—it’ll only be sent to me, and I am eager to here from you!
This is the traditional Christian greeting here in Tanzania, and it’s one of the first phrases I’ve learned since arriving here about a week ago! Greetings from Bukoba!
My journey here started in State College, Pennsylvania where I’d been staying with my parents for the month of May, having moved out of my apartment in the DC area. While Mom headed to California to visit my brother, Dad drove me down to Washington, where I boarded a plane for London. My next flight took me to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Next I flew to Mwanza, a smaller city on the Eastern side of Lake Victoria. My fellow OCMC Missionary, Michael Pagedas, welcomed me to town and we spent a couple of days resting there before taking an overnight ferry across Lake Victoria to Bukoba!
I’m living in a house belonging to the Orthodox Church , right next to Twelve Apostles Orthodox Church, quite a fitting name since my first Sunday Liturgy here fell on the Feast of Pentecost! Between Matins and Liturgy, Kneeling Vespers and the Churching of a mother and child, the service lasted about four hours! Quite a welcome! I now know a few more phrases in Kiswahili: “Bwana hurumia,” means “Lord, have mercy,” and “Amina” means “Amen!” I’ve also learned that “Karibu!” means, “Welcome!” and everyone here says it to me! “Asante” means, “Thank you!” and I say that word more than anything else!
The weather here is a balmy 75 degrees, with blue skies and sunshine all day, every day. We’re officially in the “dry season,” so I’m being diligent about sunscreen and hats, as we’re very close to the equator . Outside the house are palm trees and roses in the front garden, as well as an avocado tree in the back yard! We’ve had guacamole for dinner a couple of times already!
Speaking of food, the diet here consists mostly of carbohydrate staples like beans and rice, and potatoes. We eat those every day for our main meal, and usually have some type of fried bread for breakfast. I’ve eaten pineapple and guava so far, and vegetables are usually green peppers, tomatoes, and eggplant. Dairy is fairly non-existent, although you can buy eggs here. Meat is rare in our household diet. We do have access to bottled water, which I am drinking almost to the exclusion of anything else!
Each morning the church bells awaken us for Matins, which is served at 7 am, and every evening we hear Father ring the bell for Vespers at 6 pm. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, we go to Liturgy. I’m blessed to have a copy of the Divine Liturgy with Kiswahili on one page and English on the next, so I am able to participate a little. I’ve been made most welcome in the congregation by many people, but especially by Simeon, our priest’s 16 month-old son. Simeon toddles up to me any time I enter church and either grabs my fingers to hold my hand or throws both of his arms around my knees until I pick him up. He’s been a delightful companion, as he’s in about the same language-development stage as I!
I have so much more to tell you, but I’ll save it for another update. Overall, I am well and am almost adjusted to the time change, I’m making small journeys into town to learn my way around and accomplish chores and errands, and I am blessed to live with dear friends and missionaries from the United States, so I am well supported by people who’ve been here for nearly a year.
Thank you so much for your prayers and support over the past year! I wouldn’t be here without you, and I am so excited to begin my ministry as a nurse and more importantly as a loving witness for Christ! You are in my prayers and I ask for yours! Glory to God for all things!
In Christ,
Maria
P.S. Check out the OCMC website or my Facebook page for videos and pictures of my commissioning in Washington, DC and of life here in Africa!
P.P.S. Feel free to email me by responding to this message—it’ll only be sent to me, and I am eager to here from you!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Support Team Update: From Missionary Maria Roeber
Kristo amefufuka! Christ is risen!
I am writing to you from Denver, where I am currently doing a week of language training (learning Kiswahili!) before my departure to Tanzania at the end of this month!
It has been a long process; but thanks be to God, with your help, I have built a fantastic support team and am fully funded/pledged for two years of missionary service as a nurse in Bukoba, Tanzania!
It feels like it’s been so long since my last update, and with this being my first official emailed update. I thank you for your patience with me over these past few months as I have been developing my support team while working full-time in Washington, DC! My last day of work was April 1, and since then I have been to Florida for my pre-field training at OCMC headquarters, packed up and moved out of my apartment in DC, and enjoyed Holy Week and Pascha at home in State College, PA with my parents. For Bright Week I travelled out to Calistoga, CA to visit my sister at Holy Assumption Monastery, and then to the LA area to visit with my brother. I also had the opportunity to visit Saint Barbara’s monastery while staying in Santa Paula. Following this week in Denver, I will return to State College for a few days. Then, I will be in Kansas City to attend a medical missions conference for short and long term missionaries. This leads me to my next big announcement…
On Sunday, May 22 at 5 pm, I will be officially commissioned as a long-term missionary with OCMC! If you are in the DC area (or are willing to travel) I invite you to attend Great Vespers at St. Sophia’s Orthodox Cathedral in Washington, DC. The commissioning will follow the Vespers service, and will be held in conjunction with the annual DC area OCMC benefit banquet. If you would like to attend the banquet, information is available on the OCMC website at http://ocmc.org/resources/view_event.aspx?EventId=261. You don’t have to attend the benefit to come and pray with and for me, though! I would love to see all of you before I leave!
I’m so grateful to all of you who have been praying for me, and to those of you who are pledging to support me or have donated to help send me to Africa! I am so eager to finally be on my way and to begin sharing Christ’s love and salvation with people in Africa! It’s also very exciting to know that soon I will be using my skills as a nurse to minister to the physical needs of people in Bukoba and in the surrounding areas. I can’t wait to start sharing the details with all of you!
May you enjoy a blessed Paschal (Easter) season, and please be in touch! I hope to see as many of you as possible in DC on May 22!
In Christ,
Maria Roeber
Missionary Candidate
I am writing to you from Denver, where I am currently doing a week of language training (learning Kiswahili!) before my departure to Tanzania at the end of this month!
It has been a long process; but thanks be to God, with your help, I have built a fantastic support team and am fully funded/pledged for two years of missionary service as a nurse in Bukoba, Tanzania!
It feels like it’s been so long since my last update, and with this being my first official emailed update. I thank you for your patience with me over these past few months as I have been developing my support team while working full-time in Washington, DC! My last day of work was April 1, and since then I have been to Florida for my pre-field training at OCMC headquarters, packed up and moved out of my apartment in DC, and enjoyed Holy Week and Pascha at home in State College, PA with my parents. For Bright Week I travelled out to Calistoga, CA to visit my sister at Holy Assumption Monastery, and then to the LA area to visit with my brother. I also had the opportunity to visit Saint Barbara’s monastery while staying in Santa Paula. Following this week in Denver, I will return to State College for a few days. Then, I will be in Kansas City to attend a medical missions conference for short and long term missionaries. This leads me to my next big announcement…
On Sunday, May 22 at 5 pm, I will be officially commissioned as a long-term missionary with OCMC! If you are in the DC area (or are willing to travel) I invite you to attend Great Vespers at St. Sophia’s Orthodox Cathedral in Washington, DC. The commissioning will follow the Vespers service, and will be held in conjunction with the annual DC area OCMC benefit banquet. If you would like to attend the banquet, information is available on the OCMC website at http://ocmc.org/resources/view_event.aspx?EventId=261. You don’t have to attend the benefit to come and pray with and for me, though! I would love to see all of you before I leave!
I’m so grateful to all of you who have been praying for me, and to those of you who are pledging to support me or have donated to help send me to Africa! I am so eager to finally be on my way and to begin sharing Christ’s love and salvation with people in Africa! It’s also very exciting to know that soon I will be using my skills as a nurse to minister to the physical needs of people in Bukoba and in the surrounding areas. I can’t wait to start sharing the details with all of you!
May you enjoy a blessed Paschal (Easter) season, and please be in touch! I hope to see as many of you as possible in DC on May 22!
In Christ,
Maria Roeber
Missionary Candidate
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.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Why Are You Here? : An Update from Missionary Michael Pagedas
The last few weeks have been busy and full of surprises. We were treated to a visit by Fr. Martin Ritsi and His Grace Bishop Savas, who had just spent time in the Turkana region of Kenya. Katie and I then traveled with Bishop Savas and Fr. Martin back to Nairobi where Katie had made an appointment to receive follow-up care for her appendectomy. This was my first trip to Nairobi, or even Kenya for that matter, so I was happy to go along. Katie was under the care of a doctor who is quite famous, although it’s for something that almost killed him. Dr. Shem Musoke is a General Practitioner who works in a nondescript office at Nairobi Hospital. If you have ever read the book The Hot Zone (a book which inspired the movie Outbreak, starring Dustin Hoffman and Rene Russo), you may remember reading that, back in 1980, Dr. Musoke treated a patient with the Marburg Virus, a virus that is very similar to Ebola. Dr. Musoke, himself, contracted the virus but somehow survived, making him a medical miracle. I had no idea who the guy was until Katie told me, but I feel honored to have had the chance to meet and get to know him.
Our lodging in Nairobi was the Mayfield Guesthouse, a resting place for missionaries, medical professionals, and even businessmen who happen to be passing through on the way to different parts of Kenya. The Mayfield was a place where the family of James Hargrave, who is now our Tanzania Field Coordinator, used to visit while they were missionaries living in Africa, and James had recommended the place to us. In addition to nice, comfortable rooms, we were given full board, and the meals were quite a substantial part of the stay. Katie and I ate food that we hadn’t eaten since leaving the states, and we nearly came to tears at how good it was to have that stuff again. Being a Christian establishment, it was customary for one guestto begin with a devotional before breakfast every morning. One night after dinner, one of the staff members approached me and asked if I would like to lead the next morning’s devotion. Whether you are a long-term missionary or even a short-term team member, there is always a chance that you will be called upon to witness. It’s something that you always have to be prepared for because you never know when it will happen. Even with that in mind, I wasn’t anticipating having to witness away from my “home territory” to a group of non-denominational Christians from all walks of life. I immediately went back to my room to think about what I could present the next morning.
That day had been a busy one. Katie already had a couple of tests done and was sent by Dr. Musoke to have a surgical consult. While we were sitting in the waiting room, Katie picked up a magazine and started reading about a nurse who was helping cholera patients in Haiti. Katie handed me the article when she was done and said, “This is the kind of work I had hoped to be doing.” There have been some “tie-ups” with getting the hospital here in Bukoba open, and because of that, Katie has not felt like she has really been doing what she was called to do yet. I responded that there was still a lot of time left in our two years, and that things could happen unexpectedly. What I didn’t realize at the time was that “unexpectedly” would come about 20 minutes later. On our way out of the building, we stopped at the pharmacy where I happened to recognize a family that was staying at the Mayfield with us. The parents were picking up medication and looked visibly shaken. They had all been in the bush for about three months, and one of their daughters had come down with a serious respiratory infection. They decided to bring their daughter to the hospital a day before they were to leave for home (a 40 hour trip to Alaska). When we met up with them, they were getting ready to take her to Radiology for a chest x-ray. The daughter looked very pale and was having extreme difficulty breathing. Katie immediately went into nurse mode and helped them make their way to the ER. Katie’s experiences in Tanzanian hospitals (and as an ER nurse back in the states) allowed her to help the family through the process of getting her daughter admitted and counseling them on what tests would be done, what those tests would entail, etc. As Katie and I left the hospital, we marveled at how we just happened to be in the right place at the right time. “We were definitely meant to be there,” Katie said.
I decided to incorporate that experience into my devotions session the next morning. I began with one of my favorite verses in scripture: “The human mind plans the way, but the Lord directs the steps.” (Proverbs 16:9) I then asked everyone a very blunt question: “Why are you here?” I followed that up by asking if they knew why they happened to be at the Mayfield Guesthouse in Nairobi, Kenya at that particular moment in time. I explained that we were all there because we answered a calling, but that there was also a plan for each of us at that very moment to be together at the Mayfield. The reason for that would be beyond most of our grasps, and perhaps we would find out much later on, or not at all. I then told the preceding story and concluded by saying that what happened was more than just a coincidence. We really were meant to be at the hospital at that exact time to help that family. The father and one of the daughters from the family we had helped were also at breakfast and attested to that.
It’s experiences like that which help me to feel more relaxed about being here in Africa to do my missionary work. I needed to be here, and now that I’m here, I really shouldn’t have to worry about anything else.
Thank you to my support team!
Michael
m.pagedas@ocmc.org
Our lodging in Nairobi was the Mayfield Guesthouse, a resting place for missionaries, medical professionals, and even businessmen who happen to be passing through on the way to different parts of Kenya. The Mayfield was a place where the family of James Hargrave, who is now our Tanzania Field Coordinator, used to visit while they were missionaries living in Africa, and James had recommended the place to us. In addition to nice, comfortable rooms, we were given full board, and the meals were quite a substantial part of the stay. Katie and I ate food that we hadn’t eaten since leaving the states, and we nearly came to tears at how good it was to have that stuff again. Being a Christian establishment, it was customary for one guestto begin with a devotional before breakfast every morning. One night after dinner, one of the staff members approached me and asked if I would like to lead the next morning’s devotion. Whether you are a long-term missionary or even a short-term team member, there is always a chance that you will be called upon to witness. It’s something that you always have to be prepared for because you never know when it will happen. Even with that in mind, I wasn’t anticipating having to witness away from my “home territory” to a group of non-denominational Christians from all walks of life. I immediately went back to my room to think about what I could present the next morning.
That day had been a busy one. Katie already had a couple of tests done and was sent by Dr. Musoke to have a surgical consult. While we were sitting in the waiting room, Katie picked up a magazine and started reading about a nurse who was helping cholera patients in Haiti. Katie handed me the article when she was done and said, “This is the kind of work I had hoped to be doing.” There have been some “tie-ups” with getting the hospital here in Bukoba open, and because of that, Katie has not felt like she has really been doing what she was called to do yet. I responded that there was still a lot of time left in our two years, and that things could happen unexpectedly. What I didn’t realize at the time was that “unexpectedly” would come about 20 minutes later. On our way out of the building, we stopped at the pharmacy where I happened to recognize a family that was staying at the Mayfield with us. The parents were picking up medication and looked visibly shaken. They had all been in the bush for about three months, and one of their daughters had come down with a serious respiratory infection. They decided to bring their daughter to the hospital a day before they were to leave for home (a 40 hour trip to Alaska). When we met up with them, they were getting ready to take her to Radiology for a chest x-ray. The daughter looked very pale and was having extreme difficulty breathing. Katie immediately went into nurse mode and helped them make their way to the ER. Katie’s experiences in Tanzanian hospitals (and as an ER nurse back in the states) allowed her to help the family through the process of getting her daughter admitted and counseling them on what tests would be done, what those tests would entail, etc. As Katie and I left the hospital, we marveled at how we just happened to be in the right place at the right time. “We were definitely meant to be there,” Katie said.
I decided to incorporate that experience into my devotions session the next morning. I began with one of my favorite verses in scripture: “The human mind plans the way, but the Lord directs the steps.” (Proverbs 16:9) I then asked everyone a very blunt question: “Why are you here?” I followed that up by asking if they knew why they happened to be at the Mayfield Guesthouse in Nairobi, Kenya at that particular moment in time. I explained that we were all there because we answered a calling, but that there was also a plan for each of us at that very moment to be together at the Mayfield. The reason for that would be beyond most of our grasps, and perhaps we would find out much later on, or not at all. I then told the preceding story and concluded by saying that what happened was more than just a coincidence. We really were meant to be at the hospital at that exact time to help that family. The father and one of the daughters from the family we had helped were also at breakfast and attested to that.
It’s experiences like that which help me to feel more relaxed about being here in Africa to do my missionary work. I needed to be here, and now that I’m here, I really shouldn’t have to worry about anything else.
Thank you to my support team!
Michael
m.pagedas@ocmc.org
Friday, April 15, 2011
Missionary Work in the Holy Archdiocese of Mwanza, Tanzania: An Update from OCMC Missionary James Hargrave
The temple tops a bare hill, crowded by many other peaks. Nearby is a small rectangular house of unbaked brick, with a thatch roof and fresh straw on the dirt floor.
It seems an isolated scene at first. But down this hollow, or over that ridge, are other small homes among banana groves and coffee fields. This is the village of Ibare, and the house is for the priest’s family. The church is called Holy Resurrection, and Divine Liturgy is about to start.
Lake Victoria isn’t quite visible from this hilltop, but that great inland sea is not far. Holy Resurrection is part of the Muleba deanery, south of Bukoba on Tanzania’s northwestern lakeshore. Uganda is only a few dozen kilometers beyond.
The nave slowly fills during Matins. At home in Mwanza I share chanting duties, but as a guest today I can rest my voice. I stand with the chanters who intone hymns in a rich harmony which, despite discernable Byzantine roots, is uniquely Swahili in style.
The congregation joins in with more familiar hymns, bringing texture to “My soul magnifies the Lord,” “Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord,” and a local setting of Psalm 50 (51) “Have mercy on me, O God.”
At the Great Doxology the nave fills with voices. Men lean against the southwest walls behind me. To their left, women sit together on rush mats. In front of them in the northeast, the children press into a tight crowd, oblivious to the open floor all around.
This is not a typical Sunday morning in the Holy Archdiocese of Mwanza here in western Tanzania. It’s a special day, because a priest is present. Father Eleftherios pastors four other congregations as well as Ibare. On most Sundays he is elsewhere, and this community prays the Typika service.
Our Archdiocese, covering 400,000 square kilometers of western Tanzania, is about as big as California. The sixteen million people of this area belong to about sixty ethnic groups and speak as many distinct languages.
In such a region we have forty priests, 170 communities, and perhaps 40,000 faithful Orthodox Christians. We are responsible for eight of Tanzania’s twenty-six regions, but have congregations in only three. The bulk of the Orthodox Christian presence is clustered around the city of Bukoba, a stone’s throw from Uganda. Our faithful come mostly from only two ethnic groups. We are a small Church; but we are a growing Church.
In February OCMC Missionary Michael Pagedas visited the community of Bugabo to participate in a common occurrence—a mass baptism. Because families, communities and villages make decisions as a group, many of the newly illumined know very little about their new Christian faith beyond the fact that they have embraced it. Baptism is an important first step in becoming a disciple, but it must be followed by many steps more.
Abel, an Archdiocesan administrator, has brought me to Ibare in response to Christ’s call to make disciples. He and I are assessing the possibility of hosting a youth seminar here in July and August to be led by teachers from the Finnish Orthodox Mission and from OCMC. Each year this event is held in a different deanery of the Archdiocese, with the goal of helping local youth grow in the hope of the Resurrection.
Ibare is a good spot for the 2011 seminar because it is within a day’s walk from every community in the deanery. And it has resources. A clear stream runs through a banana orchard, providing water. The hilltop has some open space which is slightly flatter than the chasms and ridges surrounding it. We could set up one tent to house women, another for men, and conduct classes under trees. We’d have to truck in tiny stoves, sacks of charcoal, rice, beans, cups and plates to feed the two hundred or so expected participants. The OCMC/Finnish Team could stay at a guest house in Muleba, a forty-minute drive to the east.
Yes, our resources are spare. Even compared to other religious groups in the area, we are poor. Orthodox Christian faithful in western Tazania are almost all rural subsistence farmers with little cash income and even less access to formal education. Illiteracy prevents many young adults from participating even in opportunities like this seminar.
Back in Ibare, Abel and I watch the children line up for Holy Communion. They squeeze forward to the Chalice, the chest of each pressed against the shoulder blades of the one before. After Liturgy, they race outdoors to feast on little mangoes.
The adults have arranged something special for us. They seat us in the sunshine, on the only two chairs available, and dance. Traditional Haya dance is accompanied by a goatskin drum and by a singer whose verses punctuate refrains sung by the clapping and stamping crowd. On the dust of the dance floor, two or three people show their moves at a time. Everyone is involved—even babies sway on the backs of their leaping and twisting mothers.
The enthusiasm of this dance is visible throughout western Tanzanian society. Of course there are needs. We foreigners often think of obvious material issues, or else of spiritual needs vaguely defined by the concept of winning converts. But the greatest need is for communion. When asked what we foreigners can do to help local people often reply, “Just come be with us. Share in our lives.” This is the example of Christ our God, who did indeed heal the sick, feed the hungry, and preach of the Kingdom. Even more importantly, he took on human flesh and participated in our lives. Our salvation comes not by the teaching or by the healing alone, but by the Incarnation.
OCMC Missionary Mama Charita Stavrou likes to remind me that “We are here to do what God wants us to do.” If we show up, the Holy Spirit will guide us. The global Church is starting to listen.
OCMC has six long-term Missionaries working out our salvation in the Holy Archdiocese of Mwanza. OCMC Missionaries Felice Stewart, Michael Pagedas, Maria Roeber and Katie Wilcoxson are health care workers that have been asked by His Eminence Archbishop Jeronymos to minister to the bodies and spirits of people in the town of Bukoba, as well as elsewhere. We are joined regularly by short-term teams from Greece, Finland and OCMC.
Teams and missionaries come with a task or job description, but our deep role is communion: participation in the lives of our local sisters and brothers. We are supported in this work by the prayers, friendship, encouragement and material generosity of folks in North America and around the world. You are welcome to join in.
It seems an isolated scene at first. But down this hollow, or over that ridge, are other small homes among banana groves and coffee fields. This is the village of Ibare, and the house is for the priest’s family. The church is called Holy Resurrection, and Divine Liturgy is about to start.
Lake Victoria isn’t quite visible from this hilltop, but that great inland sea is not far. Holy Resurrection is part of the Muleba deanery, south of Bukoba on Tanzania’s northwestern lakeshore. Uganda is only a few dozen kilometers beyond.
The nave slowly fills during Matins. At home in Mwanza I share chanting duties, but as a guest today I can rest my voice. I stand with the chanters who intone hymns in a rich harmony which, despite discernable Byzantine roots, is uniquely Swahili in style.
The congregation joins in with more familiar hymns, bringing texture to “My soul magnifies the Lord,” “Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord,” and a local setting of Psalm 50 (51) “Have mercy on me, O God.”
At the Great Doxology the nave fills with voices. Men lean against the southwest walls behind me. To their left, women sit together on rush mats. In front of them in the northeast, the children press into a tight crowd, oblivious to the open floor all around.
This is not a typical Sunday morning in the Holy Archdiocese of Mwanza here in western Tanzania. It’s a special day, because a priest is present. Father Eleftherios pastors four other congregations as well as Ibare. On most Sundays he is elsewhere, and this community prays the Typika service.
Our Archdiocese, covering 400,000 square kilometers of western Tanzania, is about as big as California. The sixteen million people of this area belong to about sixty ethnic groups and speak as many distinct languages.
In such a region we have forty priests, 170 communities, and perhaps 40,000 faithful Orthodox Christians. We are responsible for eight of Tanzania’s twenty-six regions, but have congregations in only three. The bulk of the Orthodox Christian presence is clustered around the city of Bukoba, a stone’s throw from Uganda. Our faithful come mostly from only two ethnic groups. We are a small Church; but we are a growing Church.
In February OCMC Missionary Michael Pagedas visited the community of Bugabo to participate in a common occurrence—a mass baptism. Because families, communities and villages make decisions as a group, many of the newly illumined know very little about their new Christian faith beyond the fact that they have embraced it. Baptism is an important first step in becoming a disciple, but it must be followed by many steps more.
Abel, an Archdiocesan administrator, has brought me to Ibare in response to Christ’s call to make disciples. He and I are assessing the possibility of hosting a youth seminar here in July and August to be led by teachers from the Finnish Orthodox Mission and from OCMC. Each year this event is held in a different deanery of the Archdiocese, with the goal of helping local youth grow in the hope of the Resurrection.
Ibare is a good spot for the 2011 seminar because it is within a day’s walk from every community in the deanery. And it has resources. A clear stream runs through a banana orchard, providing water. The hilltop has some open space which is slightly flatter than the chasms and ridges surrounding it. We could set up one tent to house women, another for men, and conduct classes under trees. We’d have to truck in tiny stoves, sacks of charcoal, rice, beans, cups and plates to feed the two hundred or so expected participants. The OCMC/Finnish Team could stay at a guest house in Muleba, a forty-minute drive to the east.
Yes, our resources are spare. Even compared to other religious groups in the area, we are poor. Orthodox Christian faithful in western Tazania are almost all rural subsistence farmers with little cash income and even less access to formal education. Illiteracy prevents many young adults from participating even in opportunities like this seminar.
Back in Ibare, Abel and I watch the children line up for Holy Communion. They squeeze forward to the Chalice, the chest of each pressed against the shoulder blades of the one before. After Liturgy, they race outdoors to feast on little mangoes.
The adults have arranged something special for us. They seat us in the sunshine, on the only two chairs available, and dance. Traditional Haya dance is accompanied by a goatskin drum and by a singer whose verses punctuate refrains sung by the clapping and stamping crowd. On the dust of the dance floor, two or three people show their moves at a time. Everyone is involved—even babies sway on the backs of their leaping and twisting mothers.
The enthusiasm of this dance is visible throughout western Tanzanian society. Of course there are needs. We foreigners often think of obvious material issues, or else of spiritual needs vaguely defined by the concept of winning converts. But the greatest need is for communion. When asked what we foreigners can do to help local people often reply, “Just come be with us. Share in our lives.” This is the example of Christ our God, who did indeed heal the sick, feed the hungry, and preach of the Kingdom. Even more importantly, he took on human flesh and participated in our lives. Our salvation comes not by the teaching or by the healing alone, but by the Incarnation.
OCMC Missionary Mama Charita Stavrou likes to remind me that “We are here to do what God wants us to do.” If we show up, the Holy Spirit will guide us. The global Church is starting to listen.
OCMC has six long-term Missionaries working out our salvation in the Holy Archdiocese of Mwanza. OCMC Missionaries Felice Stewart, Michael Pagedas, Maria Roeber and Katie Wilcoxson are health care workers that have been asked by His Eminence Archbishop Jeronymos to minister to the bodies and spirits of people in the town of Bukoba, as well as elsewhere. We are joined regularly by short-term teams from Greece, Finland and OCMC.
Teams and missionaries come with a task or job description, but our deep role is communion: participation in the lives of our local sisters and brothers. We are supported in this work by the prayers, friendship, encouragement and material generosity of folks in North America and around the world. You are welcome to join in.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Volunteer Opportunity at the Orthodox Christian Mission Center
The Orthodox Christian Mission Center (OCMC), located in St. Augustine, FL, is seeking 5 volunteers to join their Thank You Calling Team. We ask that individuals on this team call a monthly list of OCMC donors and thank them for their gifts on behalf of OCMC. Solicitation is not a part of this program. Training and orientation will be provided, and calls can be made from the OCMC offices or from home if the volunteer has unlimited calling. The time commitment is 3-4 hours per month and the volunteer does not have to reside in north Florida, as information can be provided via email. To find out more information, or to volunteer to become a part of this team, contact Kenneth Kidd, Annual Gifts Officer, at 904-829-5132, Ext. 161 or at kenny@ocmc.org.
Friday, April 1, 2011
When I was 35...An Update from OCMC Missionary Michael Pagedas
On February 22, 2011, I celebrated my 36th birthday. Of course, I had to think of a unique way to celebrate (spending a day by myself at Disney World was the previous record-holder), so I traveled to Mwanza and then spent my birthday in the Serengeti. This was my third trip to the Serengeti, and while I didn’t see as many animals as on the previous trip, I saw just about everything I wanted to see. This time I saw even more lions than last time, plus I saw a dik-dik (a tiny antelope) which I had never seen before. While I was in Mwanza, some friends of mine back in Bukoba called me to wish me a happy birthday. I met this family a few months ago on one of my daily walks. They live in a house right on the beach along Lake Victoria. In the beginning, I was a little unsure about the expectations of this relationship (more on that in my next blog), but I have learned that they are genuinely interested in being my friends and are delighted to have me stop over on a regular basis. I even began taking over some of my movies, and we watch them together. Since I wasn’t in Bukoba on my birthday, this family had me over for a mini celebration after I returned. They brought out a cake (a small round cake without frosting) and sang happy birthday to me in Swahili. Then they brought out some chicken soup. They raise chickens at their home, so I asked if we were eating one of their chickens. They said yes. The two daughters (4 & 11 years old) then presented me with handwritten birthday cards. Both were addressed to “Uncle Michael” and they thanked me for coming to visit them and play with them. This is one of the extra perks of mission work.
There was another event a week before my birthday that was an even bigger perk. Back in November, at the first priest seminar in Bukoba, I met a priest named Fr. Polycarp. We made a connection and further developed it when he returned for the second priest seminar here in January. It was then that he asked me to be the godfather for his baby son. Arrangements were made, and on February 14 (Valentine’s Day) I went to St. Eleftherios Church in Bugabo for the baptism. This was my first trip to Bugabo, which is a town very close the Uganda border. The church property is within view (almost a 180º view) of Lake Victoria and the weather is nice and cool. Fr. Spyridon told me that he had grown up close by and was a fisherman there before he was called to the priesthood. Seraphim’s baptism ended up being a mass baptism. 27 babies, children, and young adults were welcomed into the Orthodox Church. I imagine this is what it must have been like back in the early church when the masses were baptized by the hundreds or even thousands. I now have godchildren in three different countries, and for those back home who are trying to keep count, it’s up to 15 now.
What’s interesting about both of these experiences, and the many others I have had like them, is that I didn’t actively seek them out. They sought me out. It’s like I am already being rewarded (unworthy as I am) for my service here in Africa. If this is just the beginning, I can’t wait to see what happens from here on out.
Thank you to my support team!
Michael
m.pagedas@ocmc.org
There was another event a week before my birthday that was an even bigger perk. Back in November, at the first priest seminar in Bukoba, I met a priest named Fr. Polycarp. We made a connection and further developed it when he returned for the second priest seminar here in January. It was then that he asked me to be the godfather for his baby son. Arrangements were made, and on February 14 (Valentine’s Day) I went to St. Eleftherios Church in Bugabo for the baptism. This was my first trip to Bugabo, which is a town very close the Uganda border. The church property is within view (almost a 180º view) of Lake Victoria and the weather is nice and cool. Fr. Spyridon told me that he had grown up close by and was a fisherman there before he was called to the priesthood. Seraphim’s baptism ended up being a mass baptism. 27 babies, children, and young adults were welcomed into the Orthodox Church. I imagine this is what it must have been like back in the early church when the masses were baptized by the hundreds or even thousands. I now have godchildren in three different countries, and for those back home who are trying to keep count, it’s up to 15 now.
What’s interesting about both of these experiences, and the many others I have had like them, is that I didn’t actively seek them out. They sought me out. It’s like I am already being rewarded (unworthy as I am) for my service here in Africa. If this is just the beginning, I can’t wait to see what happens from here on out.
Thank you to my support team!
Michael
m.pagedas@ocmc.org
Monday, March 28, 2011
Family Mission: Work, Worship and Witness
An opportunity for families who have a desire to work, witness, and worship in a profound ministry is available in a new initiative involving families in foreign mission work. Families with children are invited to join Church leaders and their families in Albania to be a part of a family ministry outreach. OCMC Missionary Nathan Hoppe explains, “Offering a witness of family unity and faith will assist in developing a new family ministry initiative for the Orthodox Church of Albania.”
The primary focus is to offer a “family witness” while sharing the Faith and growing as a family in Christ. The group will also have the opportunity to serve the ministries of the Church in Albania. The Family Mission Team to Albania, July 17 – 29, 2011, is a collaboration between OCMC and the Center for Family Care (CFC) of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese. Families from North America, along with Albanian families, will participate in this outreach assisted by OCMC missionaries and Albanian Church leaders.
This program will include family activities, parent and children programs, ministry visitations, and outreach endeavors of the Church of Albania in Tirana and surrounding areas. The Team is to provide a positive witness, and all participants are called to be exemplary role models as they minister as families and bear witness to Christ through their every action. Team Members will share their life experience, provide fellowship, and offer a visible witness of the Holy Orthodox Faith.
OCMC and the Center for Family Care hope that families will personally experience the joy of seeing God take the precious things He has been teaching Orthodox families and use them to bless families around the world. Pamela Filutowski, who participated with her son on a Team, reported, “From my perspective it appears that my son was initially wondering, ‘Is this real?’ as he tried to process the love and enthusiasm that openly flowed from the children and those who worked at Shen Vlash. He fully sensed and understood the reality of Christ’s love in the children, in our new lifestyle, and springing deep with us."
OCMC and CFC invite you to join this ministry that offers spiritual benefits to families. For more information on how to apply, please visit our website, www.ocmc.org or email us at teams@ocmc.org.
The primary focus is to offer a “family witness” while sharing the Faith and growing as a family in Christ. The group will also have the opportunity to serve the ministries of the Church in Albania. The Family Mission Team to Albania, July 17 – 29, 2011, is a collaboration between OCMC and the Center for Family Care (CFC) of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese. Families from North America, along with Albanian families, will participate in this outreach assisted by OCMC missionaries and Albanian Church leaders.
This program will include family activities, parent and children programs, ministry visitations, and outreach endeavors of the Church of Albania in Tirana and surrounding areas. The Team is to provide a positive witness, and all participants are called to be exemplary role models as they minister as families and bear witness to Christ through their every action. Team Members will share their life experience, provide fellowship, and offer a visible witness of the Holy Orthodox Faith.
OCMC and the Center for Family Care hope that families will personally experience the joy of seeing God take the precious things He has been teaching Orthodox families and use them to bless families around the world. Pamela Filutowski, who participated with her son on a Team, reported, “From my perspective it appears that my son was initially wondering, ‘Is this real?’ as he tried to process the love and enthusiasm that openly flowed from the children and those who worked at Shen Vlash. He fully sensed and understood the reality of Christ’s love in the children, in our new lifestyle, and springing deep with us."
OCMC and CFC invite you to join this ministry that offers spiritual benefits to families. For more information on how to apply, please visit our website, www.ocmc.org or email us at teams@ocmc.org.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
I Can't Do This Alone: An Update from Missionary Michael Pagedas
Heri ya Mwaka Mpya! (Happy New Year!)
I have been trying to keep these articles focused on spiritual and cultural discoveries that I have made here, but sometimes I just feel like I need to write about things that interest me and may be meaningful to you, even if they may not outwardly appear to be related to my mission. The truth is, each of these things helps to form and shape me, and who I am as a Missionary.
In keeping with my tradition of trying to do something exciting to distract myself from being away from home during the holidays, I did something that will undoubtedly set the bar high for all future (and God willing, many) New Year’s Eve celebrations. I went to Mgahinga National Park in southwestern Uganda to track the endangered mountain gorilla. This park lies in the Virunga volcano region that spans the countries of Uganda, Rwanda, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. The movie Gorillas in the Mist was filmed in this region back in the late 80s, and that movie was one of my inspirations for visiting. Mountain gorillas were dangerously close to becoming extinct, and with the help of people like Dian Fossey, their numbers are holding steady and even making a resurgence [that I should go on my trek five days after the 25th anniversary of Dian Fossey’s murder can either be chalked up as a freak coincidence or destiny]. Mountain gorillas are one of two subspecies of gorilla, the other being the Western Lowland gorilla, which are the gorillas you find in zoos (mountain gorillas do not live in captivity). Of the 720 remaining mountain gorillas in the world, 380 live on the Virunga volcanoes and the rest of them live nearby in Uganda’s Bwindi Impenetrable National Park.
Another inspiration for my wanting to visit the gorillas was Carl Akeley. Carl Akeley isn’t exactly a household name, but you’re probably familiar with his work. If you have ever been to a Natural History Museum and seen a diorama with animals in it, you can thank Carl Akeley. He revolutionized the art of taxidermy and was the first taxidermist to ever assemble a complete habitat group diorama--a muskrat diorama which can still be seen today at the Milwaukee Public Museum.1 Akeley was also a key player behind the Hall of African Mammals at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. After collecting specimens in Africa in the early 1920s, Akeley discovered that the natural African landscapes he had come to know and love were already being rapidly developed into farmland and encroached upon by civilization. He wanted to do something that would preserve unspoiled Africa for future generations, and that is how he came upon the idea for the Hall of African Mammals. Each diorama depicts a different animal group in a particular region of Africa as that region had appeared before urban or even rural development. In some cases, these places no longer exist as they appear in the dioramas, with exceptions like the Serengeti Plain. One of the dioramas depicts a group of gorillas in the Virunga volcanoes in a specific area that Akeley had visited and loved (and where he is now buried). On my many visits to the AMNH, I was always drawn to that exhibit not only because of its vivid detail but because it seemed like a place that I, too, would one day like to see firsthand. One of Akeley’s biggest legacies was persuading Belgium’s King Leopold II to establish the first national park in Africa in 1925--Parc Nationale Albert--around the Kivu volcanoes in what was then the Belgian Congo.2 The protected area now includes Mgahinga National Park, so the mountain gorillas are guaranteed a safe haven, thanks in part to Carl Akeley.
Fast forward to December 31, 2010. As our tour bus made its way up the bumpy dirt road to our drop-off location, I noticed that the land all around the volcanoes (and even partway up the volcanoes) had been developed into farmland. What would Carl think? Even the first part of our journey on foot up the mountain took us through several acres of farmland. However, I quickly discovered that gorilla conservation would be the least of my concerns. I hadn’t prepared myself for the degree of difficulty of the climb. I didn’t bring enough water with me, and I was out before I knew it. I also didn’t plan on altitude exhaustion, which quickly overtook me. The rangers told us that the mountain was 3474 meters high. That didn’t seem like much until I did the conversion later and discovered that it’s almost 11,400 feet!! I consider myself pretty physically fit, and within the first few minutes, I was already at the back of our group, which consisted mostly of young to middle-aged athletic European tourists who probably have scaled taller mountains and are more used to being at a higher altitude than me. I was soon stopping every couple of minutes and came very close to quitting at least a couple of times.
Here is what got me up that mountain:
-The patience and support of my fellow travelers: the six other tourists in my group and the local guides who accompanied us. No one rolled their eyes at me or expressed disgust for my taking longer. They all understood what I was going through, and they told me that we would reach the gorillas together and that I wouldn’t be left behind.
-My desire to see those darn gorillas because I had come all that way and spent a lot of money on a permit (money which came out of a special savings account I have and not from my mission account). A maximum of 8 people are allowed up the mountain each day to see the gorillas, and I was told that several people who had come to the park that day, but who hadn’t booked ahead of time, were turned away. With that in mind, I didn’t want to waste this golden opportunity.
-Prayer. I was physically maxed out and had nothing left in the tank, but I still had a determination to finish what I had started. I began praying to everyone I could think of. Within a few minutes, one of the porters who had joined our group to help carry extra luggage dropped to the back of the group where I was. His name was Simon, and I would later find out he was only 16 years old. Despite the fact that he was wearing a large backpack, he held out his hand to me. I gratefully took it, and we continued walking up the mountain together. As odd as it may sound, the climb was much easier holding his hand, even though he was merely guiding and not actually pulling me up. To make things even better, he spoke and understood Swahili! (Swahili is not commonly spoken in Uganda, especially in the smaller villages like the one where we started our climb) I was able to communicate how I felt to him in a way that he could understand. I told both him and the lead guide that I had been hit with malaria the previous week and was still on the mend (I really don’t think malaria was the difference, but it helped me save face). Talking to Simon also took my mind off the pain and exhaustion I was feeling. Even though Simon wasn’t carrying my bag, he got a nice tip from me at the end.
One of the variables of gorilla tracking is that you never know how long it will take to find the gorillas or where exactly they will be. Some people have spent several hours just getting to the gorillas. Trackers are sent up the mountain early each morning to facilitate finding the gorillas, but that doesn’t making getting to them any easier. Much of the journey was spent going up steep embankments with not much room for a foothold and only vines and thorny brambles to grab onto for support. When we got closer to the gorillas, we began zigzagging up, down, and sideways, all in an effort to stay on their trail. We finally reached the gorillas around 2 hours after we started the hike. I was physically and emotionally spent, but nothing on earth can match the feeling of being less than 15 feet away from a wild animal that knows you are there but allows you to get up close anyway. I had a snapshot and video camera with me, and both were immediately put into action. It was hard for me to keep my hands steady in the beginning to get good shots, not because I was scared but because I had been pulling and grasping at things for the past two hours, and my muscles were already in recharge mode. Eventually, I relaxed and was able to enjoy my time with creatures that seemed like old friends by the end of our allotted hour with them.
I learned a couple of things from this experience. One is that a 500-pound gorilla really does sleep anywhere he wants. The other is that even when I think I’m perfectly capable of doing things myself, I am proven otherwise. Take, for instance, my recent bout with malaria. There is no way I could have gotten through that without help from above and from the people around me. Likewise, I probably would never have made it up that mountain without help from above and the patience and physical assistance of those who were with me. I could easily say that the mountain is an allegory for my life struggles, but I won’t do that. Simply put, it was a physical challenge that I was able to overcome only with the help of those around me. In a like manner, I have learned to become reliant on God and the people He has put in my life to help me through my experience in Africa.
Closing thoughts:
As glad as I am that I went up Mt. Mgahinga to see those gorillas, I would never do it again. For me, it was one of those things you do once and then move on. Plus, things like this usually lose something the second time around, and it definitely would not be worth killing myself again for another go-around.
Although the mountain gorillas are protected for now, they are still threatened by poaching and have been maimed or even killed by traps and snares set for other animals. They are also susceptible to human diseases (remember how close we are), and visitors cannot make the trek if they are ill. Then there is the uncertainty of further land development and even war and civil unrest, especially in the DRC.
I still can’t get over how small the remaining gorilla territory is. These mountains are refuges, but they’re islands of refuge with no way to get off unless it’s through someone’s backyard. Although the gorillas are still free to roam across international borders into Rwanda and the DRC, the gorillas are pretty much stuck on those mountains with very little chance of being able to move somewhere else. The parks in Central Africa have become a safe haven for the mountain gorilla in much the same way that Manhattan was a safe haven for prisoners in the movie Escape from New York.
It appears as though the fate of the gorillas will end in one of three ways: 1) they will make a huge comeback and outgrow their territory, creating an even bigger problem; 2) they will establish a stable population that will allow them to live in equilibrium with their surroundings; 3) they will become extinct from disease, poaching, or further encroachment by humans into their territory. As happy as I was to have had the chance to see live gorillas on their home turf, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelming pessimism afterward. Conservation work is being done at all levels, but there’s still a very real chance that in the future your only chance of seeing a mountain gorilla will be at a place like the American Museum of Natural History. For now, the gorillas have their “living museum” and will hopefully keep it for a long time.
Thank you to my support team!
Michael
m.pagedas@ocmc.org
1 Stephen Christopher Quinn, Windows on Nature (New York: Abrams in association with the American Museum of Natural History, 2006), p.15
2 Quinn, p. 27
I have been trying to keep these articles focused on spiritual and cultural discoveries that I have made here, but sometimes I just feel like I need to write about things that interest me and may be meaningful to you, even if they may not outwardly appear to be related to my mission. The truth is, each of these things helps to form and shape me, and who I am as a Missionary.
In keeping with my tradition of trying to do something exciting to distract myself from being away from home during the holidays, I did something that will undoubtedly set the bar high for all future (and God willing, many) New Year’s Eve celebrations. I went to Mgahinga National Park in southwestern Uganda to track the endangered mountain gorilla. This park lies in the Virunga volcano region that spans the countries of Uganda, Rwanda, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. The movie Gorillas in the Mist was filmed in this region back in the late 80s, and that movie was one of my inspirations for visiting. Mountain gorillas were dangerously close to becoming extinct, and with the help of people like Dian Fossey, their numbers are holding steady and even making a resurgence [that I should go on my trek five days after the 25th anniversary of Dian Fossey’s murder can either be chalked up as a freak coincidence or destiny]. Mountain gorillas are one of two subspecies of gorilla, the other being the Western Lowland gorilla, which are the gorillas you find in zoos (mountain gorillas do not live in captivity). Of the 720 remaining mountain gorillas in the world, 380 live on the Virunga volcanoes and the rest of them live nearby in Uganda’s Bwindi Impenetrable National Park.
Another inspiration for my wanting to visit the gorillas was Carl Akeley. Carl Akeley isn’t exactly a household name, but you’re probably familiar with his work. If you have ever been to a Natural History Museum and seen a diorama with animals in it, you can thank Carl Akeley. He revolutionized the art of taxidermy and was the first taxidermist to ever assemble a complete habitat group diorama--a muskrat diorama which can still be seen today at the Milwaukee Public Museum.1 Akeley was also a key player behind the Hall of African Mammals at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. After collecting specimens in Africa in the early 1920s, Akeley discovered that the natural African landscapes he had come to know and love were already being rapidly developed into farmland and encroached upon by civilization. He wanted to do something that would preserve unspoiled Africa for future generations, and that is how he came upon the idea for the Hall of African Mammals. Each diorama depicts a different animal group in a particular region of Africa as that region had appeared before urban or even rural development. In some cases, these places no longer exist as they appear in the dioramas, with exceptions like the Serengeti Plain. One of the dioramas depicts a group of gorillas in the Virunga volcanoes in a specific area that Akeley had visited and loved (and where he is now buried). On my many visits to the AMNH, I was always drawn to that exhibit not only because of its vivid detail but because it seemed like a place that I, too, would one day like to see firsthand. One of Akeley’s biggest legacies was persuading Belgium’s King Leopold II to establish the first national park in Africa in 1925--Parc Nationale Albert--around the Kivu volcanoes in what was then the Belgian Congo.2 The protected area now includes Mgahinga National Park, so the mountain gorillas are guaranteed a safe haven, thanks in part to Carl Akeley.
Fast forward to December 31, 2010. As our tour bus made its way up the bumpy dirt road to our drop-off location, I noticed that the land all around the volcanoes (and even partway up the volcanoes) had been developed into farmland. What would Carl think? Even the first part of our journey on foot up the mountain took us through several acres of farmland. However, I quickly discovered that gorilla conservation would be the least of my concerns. I hadn’t prepared myself for the degree of difficulty of the climb. I didn’t bring enough water with me, and I was out before I knew it. I also didn’t plan on altitude exhaustion, which quickly overtook me. The rangers told us that the mountain was 3474 meters high. That didn’t seem like much until I did the conversion later and discovered that it’s almost 11,400 feet!! I consider myself pretty physically fit, and within the first few minutes, I was already at the back of our group, which consisted mostly of young to middle-aged athletic European tourists who probably have scaled taller mountains and are more used to being at a higher altitude than me. I was soon stopping every couple of minutes and came very close to quitting at least a couple of times.
Here is what got me up that mountain:
-The patience and support of my fellow travelers: the six other tourists in my group and the local guides who accompanied us. No one rolled their eyes at me or expressed disgust for my taking longer. They all understood what I was going through, and they told me that we would reach the gorillas together and that I wouldn’t be left behind.
-My desire to see those darn gorillas because I had come all that way and spent a lot of money on a permit (money which came out of a special savings account I have and not from my mission account). A maximum of 8 people are allowed up the mountain each day to see the gorillas, and I was told that several people who had come to the park that day, but who hadn’t booked ahead of time, were turned away. With that in mind, I didn’t want to waste this golden opportunity.
-Prayer. I was physically maxed out and had nothing left in the tank, but I still had a determination to finish what I had started. I began praying to everyone I could think of. Within a few minutes, one of the porters who had joined our group to help carry extra luggage dropped to the back of the group where I was. His name was Simon, and I would later find out he was only 16 years old. Despite the fact that he was wearing a large backpack, he held out his hand to me. I gratefully took it, and we continued walking up the mountain together. As odd as it may sound, the climb was much easier holding his hand, even though he was merely guiding and not actually pulling me up. To make things even better, he spoke and understood Swahili! (Swahili is not commonly spoken in Uganda, especially in the smaller villages like the one where we started our climb) I was able to communicate how I felt to him in a way that he could understand. I told both him and the lead guide that I had been hit with malaria the previous week and was still on the mend (I really don’t think malaria was the difference, but it helped me save face). Talking to Simon also took my mind off the pain and exhaustion I was feeling. Even though Simon wasn’t carrying my bag, he got a nice tip from me at the end.
One of the variables of gorilla tracking is that you never know how long it will take to find the gorillas or where exactly they will be. Some people have spent several hours just getting to the gorillas. Trackers are sent up the mountain early each morning to facilitate finding the gorillas, but that doesn’t making getting to them any easier. Much of the journey was spent going up steep embankments with not much room for a foothold and only vines and thorny brambles to grab onto for support. When we got closer to the gorillas, we began zigzagging up, down, and sideways, all in an effort to stay on their trail. We finally reached the gorillas around 2 hours after we started the hike. I was physically and emotionally spent, but nothing on earth can match the feeling of being less than 15 feet away from a wild animal that knows you are there but allows you to get up close anyway. I had a snapshot and video camera with me, and both were immediately put into action. It was hard for me to keep my hands steady in the beginning to get good shots, not because I was scared but because I had been pulling and grasping at things for the past two hours, and my muscles were already in recharge mode. Eventually, I relaxed and was able to enjoy my time with creatures that seemed like old friends by the end of our allotted hour with them.
I learned a couple of things from this experience. One is that a 500-pound gorilla really does sleep anywhere he wants. The other is that even when I think I’m perfectly capable of doing things myself, I am proven otherwise. Take, for instance, my recent bout with malaria. There is no way I could have gotten through that without help from above and from the people around me. Likewise, I probably would never have made it up that mountain without help from above and the patience and physical assistance of those who were with me. I could easily say that the mountain is an allegory for my life struggles, but I won’t do that. Simply put, it was a physical challenge that I was able to overcome only with the help of those around me. In a like manner, I have learned to become reliant on God and the people He has put in my life to help me through my experience in Africa.
Closing thoughts:
As glad as I am that I went up Mt. Mgahinga to see those gorillas, I would never do it again. For me, it was one of those things you do once and then move on. Plus, things like this usually lose something the second time around, and it definitely would not be worth killing myself again for another go-around.
Although the mountain gorillas are protected for now, they are still threatened by poaching and have been maimed or even killed by traps and snares set for other animals. They are also susceptible to human diseases (remember how close we are), and visitors cannot make the trek if they are ill. Then there is the uncertainty of further land development and even war and civil unrest, especially in the DRC.
I still can’t get over how small the remaining gorilla territory is. These mountains are refuges, but they’re islands of refuge with no way to get off unless it’s through someone’s backyard. Although the gorillas are still free to roam across international borders into Rwanda and the DRC, the gorillas are pretty much stuck on those mountains with very little chance of being able to move somewhere else. The parks in Central Africa have become a safe haven for the mountain gorilla in much the same way that Manhattan was a safe haven for prisoners in the movie Escape from New York.
It appears as though the fate of the gorillas will end in one of three ways: 1) they will make a huge comeback and outgrow their territory, creating an even bigger problem; 2) they will establish a stable population that will allow them to live in equilibrium with their surroundings; 3) they will become extinct from disease, poaching, or further encroachment by humans into their territory. As happy as I was to have had the chance to see live gorillas on their home turf, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelming pessimism afterward. Conservation work is being done at all levels, but there’s still a very real chance that in the future your only chance of seeing a mountain gorilla will be at a place like the American Museum of Natural History. For now, the gorillas have their “living museum” and will hopefully keep it for a long time.
Thank you to my support team!
Michael
m.pagedas@ocmc.org
1 Stephen Christopher Quinn, Windows on Nature (New York: Abrams in association with the American Museum of Natural History, 2006), p.15
2 Quinn, p. 27
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
