Dear Supporters of Katie Wilcoxson,
Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory forever!
On behalf of all our missionaries and staff, thank you so very much for your faithful financial support and prayers for Katie Wilcoxson, OCMC missionary to Tanzania. As you are aware, Katie was “tried by fire” from the beginning of her assignment, having to undergo an emergency appendectomy very soon after her arrival in Tanzania. During the months that followed, she experienced pain which defied diagnosis. On 21 April Katie returned to the USA on medical leave. We have worked diligently and long with her to provide good care for soul and body, hoping for clearance from our medical professionals for her to return to Tanzania to resume missionary service. Unfortunately, that clearance has not yet been given. Options and short-term alternative assignments were discussed with Katie, but on 29 July we received her letter of resignation, and we regretfully accepted it. She wrote these words in her final letter to her support team:
I'm sure this will come as a surprise for many of you, but I turned in my resignation with OCMC. Of course, that was a very difficult decision, but I know that it was the right one for me. I will miss my Tanzanian family and friends, but I want to thank each and every one of you for your prayers and your kindness and your support.
We are grateful for Katie’s willingness to serve our Lord through His Church in Africa, and for the offering of her skills and talents to this worthy ministry. We are very thankful for her faithful and loving family, for her life-giving parish in Cedar Park, Texas, and for her Archdiocese which so faithfully supported her. We are going to miss her. I know you will continue to pray with us for her health and welfare, knowing that God’s ultimate plans for her will continue to unfold in accordance with her salvation and His holy will. No doubt, the Lord has special plans for Katie.
According to OCMC policy and IRS regulations, any remaining balance of funds in Katie’s support account will be disbursed to other missionaries serving in Africa. Your donations will be well invested into the lives of current and future missionaries. OCMC has four other missionaries serving in Africa at this time, and more applicants and new missionary candidates are now being prepared for service. Thank you in advance on their behalf for helping to make this all possible.
We encourage you to consider transferring your pledge or designate future support to another OCMC missionary so we can continue our work in Africa. You may do so by using the enclosed form to indicate your intentions. Please keep Katie, OCMC, and all of our missionaries throughout the world in your prayers, as we continue to thank God for you.
Yours because of Christ,
Fr. David Rucker
Associate Director
Showing posts with label Wilcoxson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wilcoxson. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Tanzanian Taxis: An Update from Missionary Katherine Wilcoxson
Hailing a taxi in Tanzania can be a bit tricky, mainly for two reasons: when you are trying to flag down a taxi, ninety-five percent of the time there is no sign on the car to show it is a taxi. Most of the time you are taking a chance hailing the cars that are driving past you. There are two kinds of cars in Bukoba: personal cars and cars being used as taxis. Four door economy size cars are most common in Bukoba. There is no certain color or sign on any car letting you know the car is a taxi--even if the taxi is in use there is still no way to tell! The only way you know for sure is if the car drives past you--then it probably wasn't a taxi.
The other reason hailing a taxi is tricky is because you must negotiate the price. It is a game you play with the driver, and the game goes something like this: You approach a group of men standing outside their cars. Usually the men are socializing or reading newspapers. As you get closer, the men start to whistle and yell, “Taxi! you need a taxi?” The drivers never argue with each other, so you pick one man and start the negotiations:
Driver: “Mambo” (How’s it going>)
Me: “Poa, Ninakwenda Posta” (Good, I must go to the post office.)
Driver: “Twende” (Let’s go!)
Me: “Shilingi ngapi” (How many shillings?)
Driver: Elfu mbili” (Two thousand shillings--that's about $1.33)
Me: “Mia tano” (One thousand shillings--that's about $0.66)
Driver: “Sawasawa” (Okay!)
Most of the time you and the driver agree on a price, but sometimes you don’t. When you don’t agree on a price it is important, as you would with any haggling, to be prepared to walk away. A few times I have had to walk back and agree to the price that the driver proposed, and that's a little embarrassing.
But it is also important to have a regular, trusted taxi driver for safety reasons. We don’t have to worry about this issue because we have Godfrey. Godfrey was a driver that was introduced to us by Fr. Spyridon. When we first met Godfrey he was wearing a fez. This is a hat usually wore by men of the Muslim faith. When we asked Godfrey about his faith, he said he was a Lutheran. Confused, we asked him why he wears a hat that is usually worn by only Muslim men. He said he just liked to wear the hat for fashion purposes. Godfrey is one of our best friends in Tanzania. He is always looking out for our best interests. When he saw me riding on motorcycle-taxis, he lovingly scolded me and reminded me that, while motorcycle taxis are cheaper, they are very also dangerous. When Godfrey arrives at our house, he always greets us with a jolly "Furaha na Amani." You cannot help but smile and feel happy when you are riding with Godfrey--and you don't have to negotiate the price.
Be Free,
kt
The other reason hailing a taxi is tricky is because you must negotiate the price. It is a game you play with the driver, and the game goes something like this: You approach a group of men standing outside their cars. Usually the men are socializing or reading newspapers. As you get closer, the men start to whistle and yell, “Taxi! you need a taxi?” The drivers never argue with each other, so you pick one man and start the negotiations:
Driver: “Mambo” (How’s it going>)
Me: “Poa, Ninakwenda Posta” (Good, I must go to the post office.)
Driver: “Twende” (Let’s go!)
Me: “Shilingi ngapi” (How many shillings?)
Driver: Elfu mbili” (Two thousand shillings--that's about $1.33)
Me: “Mia tano” (One thousand shillings--that's about $0.66)
Driver: “Sawasawa” (Okay!)
Most of the time you and the driver agree on a price, but sometimes you don’t. When you don’t agree on a price it is important, as you would with any haggling, to be prepared to walk away. A few times I have had to walk back and agree to the price that the driver proposed, and that's a little embarrassing.
But it is also important to have a regular, trusted taxi driver for safety reasons. We don’t have to worry about this issue because we have Godfrey. Godfrey was a driver that was introduced to us by Fr. Spyridon. When we first met Godfrey he was wearing a fez. This is a hat usually wore by men of the Muslim faith. When we asked Godfrey about his faith, he said he was a Lutheran. Confused, we asked him why he wears a hat that is usually worn by only Muslim men. He said he just liked to wear the hat for fashion purposes. Godfrey is one of our best friends in Tanzania. He is always looking out for our best interests. When he saw me riding on motorcycle-taxis, he lovingly scolded me and reminded me that, while motorcycle taxis are cheaper, they are very also dangerous. When Godfrey arrives at our house, he always greets us with a jolly "Furaha na Amani." You cannot help but smile and feel happy when you are riding with Godfrey--and you don't have to negotiate the price.
Be Free,
kt
Friday, July 15, 2011
Pentecost: An Update from Missionary Katherine Wilcoxson
Pentecost
"…they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. And there were dwelling at Jerusalem Jews, devout men, out of every nation under heaven. Now when this was noised abroad, the multitude came together, and were confounded, because that every man heard them speak in his own language."
"Pole Sana"
It means "very sorry." This is the only phrase in Kiswahili that expresses sympathy for anything. In English there are so many different ways to express your sympathy. We even have sympathy greeting cards. There are also lots of physical ways of showing your sympathy for someone. Hugs are a big one, especially for me. I have always felt hugs were one of the best ways to show someone your sympathy or your love.
But I can't do that in Tanzania. Women don't even hug other women--and hugging someone of a different gender is a big taboo. People do shake hands in Tanzania, but hold your left hand on your right elbow while you're doing that. If you are an Orthodox Christian you might even say: "Furaha na Amani" (joy and peace), but it has been a struggle for me to find ways to show my love for others without hugging.
But, thanks be to God, on Pentecost, the Apostles, broke through this barrier and all other communication barriers through the power of the Holy Spirit. Now it's possible to communicate and love and even show sympathy across different languages and cultures.
But learning exactly how to do that is my Pentecost challenge. So please pray that the Holy Spirit will give me the wisdom and the guidance I need.
"…they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. And there were dwelling at Jerusalem Jews, devout men, out of every nation under heaven. Now when this was noised abroad, the multitude came together, and were confounded, because that every man heard them speak in his own language."
"Pole Sana"
It means "very sorry." This is the only phrase in Kiswahili that expresses sympathy for anything. In English there are so many different ways to express your sympathy. We even have sympathy greeting cards. There are also lots of physical ways of showing your sympathy for someone. Hugs are a big one, especially for me. I have always felt hugs were one of the best ways to show someone your sympathy or your love.
But I can't do that in Tanzania. Women don't even hug other women--and hugging someone of a different gender is a big taboo. People do shake hands in Tanzania, but hold your left hand on your right elbow while you're doing that. If you are an Orthodox Christian you might even say: "Furaha na Amani" (joy and peace), but it has been a struggle for me to find ways to show my love for others without hugging.
But, thanks be to God, on Pentecost, the Apostles, broke through this barrier and all other communication barriers through the power of the Holy Spirit. Now it's possible to communicate and love and even show sympathy across different languages and cultures.
But learning exactly how to do that is my Pentecost challenge. So please pray that the Holy Spirit will give me the wisdom and the guidance I need.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Missionary Katherine Wilcoxson looks back at Christmas in Kasikizi
Most of Holy Week, I was either in the hospital or on an airplane. But one of the things that sustained me during all that was the memory I have of celebrating Nativity in Tanzania.
On the Eve of Nativity, we had Liturgy in the morning in Bukoba. I wanted to visit Kasikazi during the feast, but I am not able to travel long distances by myself—it’s just not safe. But, Tambua, one of our friends there, was going to be traveling at that time, so I was able to ride with him on the dala dala (which is what public transportation is called here). It took a while to find the "right" dala dala when we arrived at the bus station. The bus station is a carnival size area of land with buses scattered everywhere. People approach you trying to sell what they have in hand, maji (water), perfumes (manukato) and of course senene (grasshoppers, which are very popular here). We found the right bus that would let us 1) sit together and 2) sit in the front seat. I had mentioned in a previous blog that sitting in the front seat on the bus comes with responsibilities. This trip was no different. I actually enjoy the responsibilities. The front seat is the most comfortable seat, and, basically what this means is that you don't have to have someone's back in your face. This trip I had the responsibility of holding 3 loaves of bread and a two year old girl. The trip to Kasikazi took us about two hours.
Tambua and I had a warm welcome from Fr. Geronimos and two of his seminarians, John and Thomas. There was then a little catching up in Kiswahili between the men. I like to listen to people speaking Kiswahili to see if I can recognize any words I have learned in class. I knew only a few, but I also know it will get easier to understand. I was shown my room after the catching-up-conversation finished. I put my bags down and decided to take a walk around the seminary I hadn't seen for eight years. Not a lot had changed, but I was finally able to see, in person, the finished church my short-term mission teammates and I helped build. My team was assigned to dig the narthex of the church. When I saw the area we had dug, I was surprised to see a beautiful courtyard. I later learned that here the Narthex is made into a courtyard with beautiful landscape. It was a special moment which brought me to tears. After my visit to the church, I went down the hill and ran into some men. I worked on my Kiswahili and told them who I was, where I live, where I was from, and why I was here in Tanzania. There were a lot of laughs, but I am used to that. I found out that these men were some of the seminarians I had seen and took pictures of when I visited Rubale village with His Eminence. I told them about my video and the photos I had of them, and they became excited and asked to see them. I came back with my laptop, and they all crowded around looking at the pictures. Not long afterward we had dinner. After dinner, Fr. Geronimos gave a very welcoming speech to me. The seminarians then sang a welcome song in Kiswahili. As I headed outside to make my way to my bed, I was delighted to see "lights" outside. I have only lived in cities so I had heard and seen pictures of lightning bugs, but I had never seen them in person.
The Liturgy at All Saints in Kasikazi was beautiful! The church was very crowded. The children packed themselves into benches that would usually seat four people, but there were ten of them to a bench. One of the older women (Mama Mzee) would go around unpacking the benches and then return to her bench. Since All Saints is on the grounds of the seminary, the seminarians are always in attendance. They serve as the altar boys, chanters, readers, and choir. Another of the seminarians’ duties is to direct the controlled chaos during communion. By now I was used to being "stared at", but being in a village takes staring to a whole new level. In a village, the people would be more likely to see a space alien than to see a westerner (mzungu) or someone with orange colored hair for that matter. After Liturgy, I handed out some gum (juju) and pencils to the children. I had never spent Nativity away from my family. Even though a big part of the holidays for me is being with my family, surprisingly I didn't feel sad or lonely. I felt I was given a gift of another family. My mom sent me an email saying ‘Your mom and dad miss you, but our best Christmas is knowing our children are happy’. And that is all that matters. That afternoon we had goat, rice, and beans for lunch. Some of the seminarians and I walked through the village, and I was honored to meet the All Saint's church chairman. Chai tea was served along with coffee beans. I ate right into the bean and then found out I was supposed to take the bean out of its shell first. It was much more enjoyable to eat them without the shell. The seminarians had many questions for me about America. They were surprised to know that we have some of the same plant life as they do. Also they were surprised to hear that there were dark skinned people in America just like them.
Fr. Geronimos is the rector of four different parishes. Since Nativity was celebrated at All Saints, Fr. Geronimos celebrated Liturgy in the village of Kikagate on Sunday. I was told I needed to ride a motorcycle (pikipiki) to the church. There are no roads or smooth ground in the villages. The service was much like the day before. There were more children (watoto) in attendance at St. Anastasios. The stares continued, but I figured out a counter measure--smiling back at them. After Liturgy, traditionally the priest gives a homily (mahubiri) and then, the person we would call the church president, gives a short talk. Kihaya, the local dialect, was being spoken, so I was only able to use the men's body language to follow what was being said. Quickly I noticed people turning around and looking at me. The council president was also talking excitedly and pointing his finger in my direction. Fr. Geronimos would cut in on the president's talk and give a comment or two. At one point, I thought maybe there was a fight going on about my being in the village because of the way the two men's voices were getting louder and louder. I later found out that the president was telling the people what a blessing it was to celebrate the Divine Liturgy with a mzungu (westerner) at St. Anastasios because everyone can now see that there are Orthodox Christians in the western world. The president said that many people in villages like Kikagate will live until they are seventy years old before they ever see a westerner. I was just hoping that I made a good impression for all of the western world.
Father Geronimos, John, Thomas, Anastasios, and I all decided to walk home. We got caught in the rain, and so we took pikipiki back to the seminary. Dinner would be the last meal I would share with the seminarians, so we all said our official goodbyes. Father Geronimos talked about how happy he was to have me back in Kasikizi and hoped I would return again. Then each seminarian was asked to say something and there were tears (from me mostly) but a good bit of laughter as well. That evening the seminarians heard for the first time that I was a nurse. After dinner there were many questions about each man’s health concerns. I did my best to answer them (there was a huge need for dental care). The next morning we took the early bus (daladala). All of the seminarians had gotten up to see me off. I came home exhausted but renewed finally being able to visit my Kasikizi again.
On the Eve of Nativity, we had Liturgy in the morning in Bukoba. I wanted to visit Kasikazi during the feast, but I am not able to travel long distances by myself—it’s just not safe. But, Tambua, one of our friends there, was going to be traveling at that time, so I was able to ride with him on the dala dala (which is what public transportation is called here). It took a while to find the "right" dala dala when we arrived at the bus station. The bus station is a carnival size area of land with buses scattered everywhere. People approach you trying to sell what they have in hand, maji (water), perfumes (manukato) and of course senene (grasshoppers, which are very popular here). We found the right bus that would let us 1) sit together and 2) sit in the front seat. I had mentioned in a previous blog that sitting in the front seat on the bus comes with responsibilities. This trip was no different. I actually enjoy the responsibilities. The front seat is the most comfortable seat, and, basically what this means is that you don't have to have someone's back in your face. This trip I had the responsibility of holding 3 loaves of bread and a two year old girl. The trip to Kasikazi took us about two hours.
Tambua and I had a warm welcome from Fr. Geronimos and two of his seminarians, John and Thomas. There was then a little catching up in Kiswahili between the men. I like to listen to people speaking Kiswahili to see if I can recognize any words I have learned in class. I knew only a few, but I also know it will get easier to understand. I was shown my room after the catching-up-conversation finished. I put my bags down and decided to take a walk around the seminary I hadn't seen for eight years. Not a lot had changed, but I was finally able to see, in person, the finished church my short-term mission teammates and I helped build. My team was assigned to dig the narthex of the church. When I saw the area we had dug, I was surprised to see a beautiful courtyard. I later learned that here the Narthex is made into a courtyard with beautiful landscape. It was a special moment which brought me to tears. After my visit to the church, I went down the hill and ran into some men. I worked on my Kiswahili and told them who I was, where I live, where I was from, and why I was here in Tanzania. There were a lot of laughs, but I am used to that. I found out that these men were some of the seminarians I had seen and took pictures of when I visited Rubale village with His Eminence. I told them about my video and the photos I had of them, and they became excited and asked to see them. I came back with my laptop, and they all crowded around looking at the pictures. Not long afterward we had dinner. After dinner, Fr. Geronimos gave a very welcoming speech to me. The seminarians then sang a welcome song in Kiswahili. As I headed outside to make my way to my bed, I was delighted to see "lights" outside. I have only lived in cities so I had heard and seen pictures of lightning bugs, but I had never seen them in person.
The Liturgy at All Saints in Kasikazi was beautiful! The church was very crowded. The children packed themselves into benches that would usually seat four people, but there were ten of them to a bench. One of the older women (Mama Mzee) would go around unpacking the benches and then return to her bench. Since All Saints is on the grounds of the seminary, the seminarians are always in attendance. They serve as the altar boys, chanters, readers, and choir. Another of the seminarians’ duties is to direct the controlled chaos during communion. By now I was used to being "stared at", but being in a village takes staring to a whole new level. In a village, the people would be more likely to see a space alien than to see a westerner (mzungu) or someone with orange colored hair for that matter. After Liturgy, I handed out some gum (juju) and pencils to the children. I had never spent Nativity away from my family. Even though a big part of the holidays for me is being with my family, surprisingly I didn't feel sad or lonely. I felt I was given a gift of another family. My mom sent me an email saying ‘Your mom and dad miss you, but our best Christmas is knowing our children are happy’. And that is all that matters. That afternoon we had goat, rice, and beans for lunch. Some of the seminarians and I walked through the village, and I was honored to meet the All Saint's church chairman. Chai tea was served along with coffee beans. I ate right into the bean and then found out I was supposed to take the bean out of its shell first. It was much more enjoyable to eat them without the shell. The seminarians had many questions for me about America. They were surprised to know that we have some of the same plant life as they do. Also they were surprised to hear that there were dark skinned people in America just like them.
Fr. Geronimos is the rector of four different parishes. Since Nativity was celebrated at All Saints, Fr. Geronimos celebrated Liturgy in the village of Kikagate on Sunday. I was told I needed to ride a motorcycle (pikipiki) to the church. There are no roads or smooth ground in the villages. The service was much like the day before. There were more children (watoto) in attendance at St. Anastasios. The stares continued, but I figured out a counter measure--smiling back at them. After Liturgy, traditionally the priest gives a homily (mahubiri) and then, the person we would call the church president, gives a short talk. Kihaya, the local dialect, was being spoken, so I was only able to use the men's body language to follow what was being said. Quickly I noticed people turning around and looking at me. The council president was also talking excitedly and pointing his finger in my direction. Fr. Geronimos would cut in on the president's talk and give a comment or two. At one point, I thought maybe there was a fight going on about my being in the village because of the way the two men's voices were getting louder and louder. I later found out that the president was telling the people what a blessing it was to celebrate the Divine Liturgy with a mzungu (westerner) at St. Anastasios because everyone can now see that there are Orthodox Christians in the western world. The president said that many people in villages like Kikagate will live until they are seventy years old before they ever see a westerner. I was just hoping that I made a good impression for all of the western world.
Father Geronimos, John, Thomas, Anastasios, and I all decided to walk home. We got caught in the rain, and so we took pikipiki back to the seminary. Dinner would be the last meal I would share with the seminarians, so we all said our official goodbyes. Father Geronimos talked about how happy he was to have me back in Kasikizi and hoped I would return again. Then each seminarian was asked to say something and there were tears (from me mostly) but a good bit of laughter as well. That evening the seminarians heard for the first time that I was a nurse. After dinner there were many questions about each man’s health concerns. I did my best to answer them (there was a huge need for dental care). The next morning we took the early bus (daladala). All of the seminarians had gotten up to see me off. I came home exhausted but renewed finally being able to visit my Kasikizi again.
Missionary Katherine Wilcoxson looks back at Christmas in Kasikizi
Most of Holy Week, I was either in the hospital or on an airplane. But one of the things that sustained me during all that was the memory I have of celebrating Nativity in Tanzania.
On the Eve of Nativity, we had Liturgy in the morning in Bukoba. I wanted to visit Kasikazi during the feast, but I am not able to travel long distances by myself—it’s just not safe. But, Tambua, one of our friends there, was going to be traveling at that time, so I was able to ride with him on the dala dala (which is what public transportation is called here). It took a while to find the "right" dala dala when we arrived at the bus station. The bus station is a carnival size area of land with buses scattered everywhere. People approach you trying to sell what they have in hand, maji (water), perfumes (manukato) and of course senene (grasshoppers, which are very popular here). We found the right bus that would let us 1) sit together and 2) sit in the front seat. I had mentioned in a previous blog that sitting in the front seat on the bus comes with responsibilities. This trip was no different. I actually enjoy the responsibilities. The front seat is the most comfortable seat, and, basically what this means is that you don't have to have someone's back in your face. This trip I had the responsibility of holding 3 loaves of bread and a two year old girl. The trip to Kasikazi took us about two hours.
Tambua and I had a warm welcome from Fr. Geronimos and two of his seminarians, John and Thomas. There was then a little catching up in Kiswahili between the men. I like to listen to people speaking Kiswahili to see if I can recognize any words I have learned in class. I knew only a few, but I also know it will get easier to understand. I was shown my room after the catching-up-conversation finished. I put my bags down and decided to take a walk around the seminary I hadn't seen for eight years. Not a lot had changed, but I was finally able to see, in person, the finished church my short-term mission teammates and I helped build. My team was assigned to dig the narthex of the church. When I saw the area we had dug, I was surprised to see a beautiful courtyard. I later learned that here the Narthex is made into a courtyard with beautiful landscape. It was a special moment which brought me to tears. After my visit to the church, I went down the hill and ran into some men. I worked on my Kiswahili and told them who I was, where I live, where I was from, and why I was here in Tanzania. There were a lot of laughs, but I am used to that. I found out that these men were some of the seminarians I had seen and took pictures of when I visited Rubale village with His Eminence. I told them about my video and the photos I had of them, and they became excited and asked to see them. I came back with my laptop, and they all crowded around looking at the pictures. Not long afterward we had dinner. After dinner, Fr. Geronimos gave a very welcoming speech to me. The seminarians then sang a welcome song in Kiswahili. As I headed outside to make my way to my bed, I was delighted to see "lights" outside. I have only lived in cities so I had heard and seen pictures of lightning bugs, but I had never seen them in person.
The Liturgy at All Saints in Kasikazi was beautiful! The church was very crowded. The children packed themselves into benches that would usually seat four people, but there were ten of them to a bench. One of the older women (Mama Mzee) would go around unpacking the benches and then return to her bench. Since All Saints is on the grounds of the seminary, the seminarians are always in attendance. They serve as the altar boys, chanters, readers, and choir. Another of the seminarians’ duties is to direct the controlled chaos during communion. By now I was used to being "stared at", but being in a village takes staring to a whole new level. In a village, the people would be more likely to see a space alien than to see a westerner (mzungu) or someone with orange colored hair for that matter. After Liturgy, I handed out some gum (juju) and pencils to the children. I had never spent Nativity away from my family. Even though a big part of the holidays for me is being with my family, surprisingly I didn't feel sad or lonely. I felt I was given a gift of another family. My mom sent me an email saying ‘Your mom and dad miss you, but our best Christmas is knowing our children are happy’. And that is all that matters. That afternoon we had goat, rice, and beans for lunch. Some of the seminarians and I walked through the village, and I was honored to meet the All Saint's church chairman. Chai tea was served along with coffee beans. I ate right into the bean and then found out I was supposed to take the bean out of its shell first. It was much more enjoyable to eat them without the shell. The seminarians had many questions for me about America. They were surprised to know that we have some of the same plant life as they do. Also they were surprised to hear that there were dark skinned people in America just like them.
Fr. Geronimos is the rector of four different parishes. Since Nativity was celebrated at All Saints, Fr. Geronimos celebrated Liturgy in the village of Kikagate on Sunday. I was told I needed to ride a motorcycle (pikipiki) to the church. There are no roads or smooth ground in the villages. The service was much like the day before. There were more children (watoto) in attendance at St. Anastasios. The stares continued, but I figured out a counter measure--smiling back at them. After Liturgy, traditionally the priest gives a homily (mahubiri) and then, the person we would call the church president, gives a short talk. Kihaya, the local dialect, was being spoken, so I was only able to use the men's body language to follow what was being said. Quickly I noticed people turning around and looking at me. The council president was also talking excitedly and pointing his finger in my direction. Fr. Geronimos would cut in on the president's talk and give a comment or two. At one point, I thought maybe there was a fight going on about my being in the village because of the way the two men's voices were getting louder and louder. I later found out that the president was telling the people what a blessing it was to celebrate the Divine Liturgy with a mzungu (westerner) at St. Anastasios because everyone can now see that there are Orthodox Christians in the western world. The president said that many people in villages like Kikagate will live until they are seventy years old before they ever see a westerner. I was just hoping that I made a good impression for all of the western world.
Father Geronimos, John, Thomas, Anastasios, and I all decided to walk home. We got caught in the rain, and so we took pikipiki back to the seminary. Dinner would be the last meal I would share with the seminarians, so we all said our official goodbyes. Father Geronimos talked about how happy he was to have me back in Kasikizi and hoped I would return again. Then each seminarian was asked to say something and there were tears (from me mostly) but a good bit of laughter as well. That evening the seminarians heard for the first time that I was a nurse. After dinner there were many questions about each man’s health concerns. I did my best to answer them (there was a huge need for dental care). The next morning we took the early bus (daladala). All of the seminarians had gotten up to see me off. I came home exhausted but renewed finally being able to visit my Kasikizi again.
On the Eve of Nativity, we had Liturgy in the morning in Bukoba. I wanted to visit Kasikazi during the feast, but I am not able to travel long distances by myself—it’s just not safe. But, Tambua, one of our friends there, was going to be traveling at that time, so I was able to ride with him on the dala dala (which is what public transportation is called here). It took a while to find the "right" dala dala when we arrived at the bus station. The bus station is a carnival size area of land with buses scattered everywhere. People approach you trying to sell what they have in hand, maji (water), perfumes (manukato) and of course senene (grasshoppers, which are very popular here). We found the right bus that would let us 1) sit together and 2) sit in the front seat. I had mentioned in a previous blog that sitting in the front seat on the bus comes with responsibilities. This trip was no different. I actually enjoy the responsibilities. The front seat is the most comfortable seat, and, basically what this means is that you don't have to have someone's back in your face. This trip I had the responsibility of holding 3 loaves of bread and a two year old girl. The trip to Kasikazi took us about two hours.
Tambua and I had a warm welcome from Fr. Geronimos and two of his seminarians, John and Thomas. There was then a little catching up in Kiswahili between the men. I like to listen to people speaking Kiswahili to see if I can recognize any words I have learned in class. I knew only a few, but I also know it will get easier to understand. I was shown my room after the catching-up-conversation finished. I put my bags down and decided to take a walk around the seminary I hadn't seen for eight years. Not a lot had changed, but I was finally able to see, in person, the finished church my short-term mission teammates and I helped build. My team was assigned to dig the narthex of the church. When I saw the area we had dug, I was surprised to see a beautiful courtyard. I later learned that here the Narthex is made into a courtyard with beautiful landscape. It was a special moment which brought me to tears. After my visit to the church, I went down the hill and ran into some men. I worked on my Kiswahili and told them who I was, where I live, where I was from, and why I was here in Tanzania. There were a lot of laughs, but I am used to that. I found out that these men were some of the seminarians I had seen and took pictures of when I visited Rubale village with His Eminence. I told them about my video and the photos I had of them, and they became excited and asked to see them. I came back with my laptop, and they all crowded around looking at the pictures. Not long afterward we had dinner. After dinner, Fr. Geronimos gave a very welcoming speech to me. The seminarians then sang a welcome song in Kiswahili. As I headed outside to make my way to my bed, I was delighted to see "lights" outside. I have only lived in cities so I had heard and seen pictures of lightning bugs, but I had never seen them in person.
The Liturgy at All Saints in Kasikazi was beautiful! The church was very crowded. The children packed themselves into benches that would usually seat four people, but there were ten of them to a bench. One of the older women (Mama Mzee) would go around unpacking the benches and then return to her bench. Since All Saints is on the grounds of the seminary, the seminarians are always in attendance. They serve as the altar boys, chanters, readers, and choir. Another of the seminarians’ duties is to direct the controlled chaos during communion. By now I was used to being "stared at", but being in a village takes staring to a whole new level. In a village, the people would be more likely to see a space alien than to see a westerner (mzungu) or someone with orange colored hair for that matter. After Liturgy, I handed out some gum (juju) and pencils to the children. I had never spent Nativity away from my family. Even though a big part of the holidays for me is being with my family, surprisingly I didn't feel sad or lonely. I felt I was given a gift of another family. My mom sent me an email saying ‘Your mom and dad miss you, but our best Christmas is knowing our children are happy’. And that is all that matters. That afternoon we had goat, rice, and beans for lunch. Some of the seminarians and I walked through the village, and I was honored to meet the All Saint's church chairman. Chai tea was served along with coffee beans. I ate right into the bean and then found out I was supposed to take the bean out of its shell first. It was much more enjoyable to eat them without the shell. The seminarians had many questions for me about America. They were surprised to know that we have some of the same plant life as they do. Also they were surprised to hear that there were dark skinned people in America just like them.
Fr. Geronimos is the rector of four different parishes. Since Nativity was celebrated at All Saints, Fr. Geronimos celebrated Liturgy in the village of Kikagate on Sunday. I was told I needed to ride a motorcycle (pikipiki) to the church. There are no roads or smooth ground in the villages. The service was much like the day before. There were more children (watoto) in attendance at St. Anastasios. The stares continued, but I figured out a counter measure--smiling back at them. After Liturgy, traditionally the priest gives a homily (mahubiri) and then, the person we would call the church president, gives a short talk. Kihaya, the local dialect, was being spoken, so I was only able to use the men's body language to follow what was being said. Quickly I noticed people turning around and looking at me. The council president was also talking excitedly and pointing his finger in my direction. Fr. Geronimos would cut in on the president's talk and give a comment or two. At one point, I thought maybe there was a fight going on about my being in the village because of the way the two men's voices were getting louder and louder. I later found out that the president was telling the people what a blessing it was to celebrate the Divine Liturgy with a mzungu (westerner) at St. Anastasios because everyone can now see that there are Orthodox Christians in the western world. The president said that many people in villages like Kikagate will live until they are seventy years old before they ever see a westerner. I was just hoping that I made a good impression for all of the western world.
Father Geronimos, John, Thomas, Anastasios, and I all decided to walk home. We got caught in the rain, and so we took pikipiki back to the seminary. Dinner would be the last meal I would share with the seminarians, so we all said our official goodbyes. Father Geronimos talked about how happy he was to have me back in Kasikizi and hoped I would return again. Then each seminarian was asked to say something and there were tears (from me mostly) but a good bit of laughter as well. That evening the seminarians heard for the first time that I was a nurse. After dinner there were many questions about each man’s health concerns. I did my best to answer them (there was a huge need for dental care). The next morning we took the early bus (daladala). All of the seminarians had gotten up to see me off. I came home exhausted but renewed finally being able to visit my Kasikizi again.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Katie Wilcoxson's Village Visits, Thanksgiving, and More
Furaha na Amani!
My family, friends, and support team: Without your prayers and gifts, I could not have fullfilled my lifelong dream to be a missionary nurse in Africa. I continue to feel at home; of course I miss my family, but I have been blessed to have a new family here in Tanzania!
My teammates and I arrived in Tanzania five months ago. We have yet to being our "work" that we came here to do, medical work. Some might say, "What is taking so long for you to start your ministry. Why can't you just start working at the hospital and start the 'exciting part'?" We understand that frustration because, in many ways, it doesn't look like we are spreading the Gospel, and bringing people into the Church. But we have been doing this work since we walked off the airplane.
We work towards bringing people into the church many times in a day. We are constantly looked at and seen as outsiders. Lots of times we are judged, and our actions and words are looked at under a microscope. Because we are foreigners and because we are missionaries, we are expected to "act a certain" way. While walking down the street, meeting people in the hostel where we used to live, or waiting in a line at the post office, we are given the opportunity to tell people where we are from and what we are doing here. We have the opportunity to speak about the Church, and many times people actually listen.
Throughout history, Orthodox mission work has taken a long time. Saint Herman travelled from Finland, through Russia and across Siberia before getting to the native people Alaska. Saints Cyril and Methodius developed the Slavic language before even beginning their mission work. Saint Nicholas of Japan, who's story I connect with, had the same frustration that I have with learning a new language. It is hard having people laugh at you because you mispronounce or mix up words. People sometimes laugh when you are speaking correctly. It is hard to hear all the laughing on certain days, after a long language lesson, especially.
So it just takes time, but I'm sure you would also like to know what we have been doing since we arrived in Bukoba.
Metropolitan Jeronymos is our boss, and he is a very busy man. He is constantly traveling to villages where parishes are already established and flourishing or where he feels there is one needed. To give you an idea of what that kind of travel is like, let me tell you about an experience I had. Not too long ago, I had the wonderful blessing to travel to Mibwera, a village about a 2 1/2 hour bus ride from Bukoba. This dala dala (bus) ride was a different experience from my other travels. Father Spyridon insisted that I sit in the front seat with the driver. I thought to myself, "I don't want to be the muzugu (white person) that gets special treatment." Boy, was I in for a surprise: no special treatment here! On this dala dala, which could be described as a workmen's van, there were seats, but also people are required to "stand up" (bend down like they are stuck in a square box). Then in the front seat is where up to 5 +(not including the driver) people can sit in a bucket type seat. The front seat passengers are also required to hold, mainly in their laps, all of the fragile cargo the passengers traveling on the dala dala bring with them (ex: bread, valuables, and children). So that was me: one of the six people in the front row with an unidentifiable package and 3 loafs of bread in my lap.
Father Spyridon and I arrived just outside the village. We walked the rest of the way to the church, St. Demitiros, where Orthos was just about to wrap up. This was the parish's feast day, and Metropolitan Jeronymos was present, so all of the secondary school children were preparing to put on a show for the celebration. A few years ago the secondary school was built by a group from Greece. This is the only Orthodox secondary school in Tanzania. Even though it is Orthodox, children from any type of background are allowed to attend.
The afternoon was filled with celebration for the parish's feast day and for the presence of the Metropolitan. There was dancing and singing, and even some rapping by the children and adults. It was a wonderful show that was put on by the people of Mibwera. Then the Metropolitan asked me to travel back to Bukoba with him in his car. So we all scrunched into this land rover. Seminarians, from the diocese's seminary in Kazikazi, were in the back. Three others and I were in the "back seat", and the Metropolitan, Demtri (a driver for the diocese), and a man named Anastaios were in the front. Laughing and Kiswahili could be heard the whole way to Kazikazi. I was hoping to see Mama Maria, a woman I met when I first visited Tanzania eight years ago, when we dropped off the seminarians, but she wasn't around. I still have a year and a half to reconnect with her. I did get to spend a little time with Fr, Geronimos, our host priest eight years ago in Kazikazi.
I arrived back home and told Michael and Felice about my exciting day. I was so tired; we had Vespers and I went to bed after returning a few more emails.
Finding a language teacher, or nurturer as the program we use calls them, is a hard process. The person has to speak and read English fairly well, have the availability to spend two to four hours with you five times a week, and be really, really patient. These are just a few of the qualities that one person needs to have for you to get the best language training possible. Glory to God, after many false starts on finding a nurturer, Felice Stewart, my fellow missionary teammate, and I found a nurturer that we can share!
Thanksgiving was figured out at the last moment. We wanted to invite our new friends and family. Since Thanksgiving isn't celebrated here, many people were not available to celebrate with us. We had just hired our cook/housekeeper and guard/gardner, and James Hargrave, our fellow missionary teammate, arrived a few days earlier to help us restart our Kiswahili lessons. Since James lived in a remote village in Africa for many years of his childhood, unlike us, he knew how to cook from scratch. And, surprisingly, he loves to cook. So God, as always, had the perfect plan for our celebration of Thanksgiving. My name day fell on Thanksgiving Day this year. So the day was extra special for Papazia Katherine, Fr. Spyridon's wife, and for myself. In celebration of both occasions, James cooked a chocolate cake from scratch! It was a wonderful day. We also had some unexpected guests which made the celebration bigger.
Again, I can't say this enough: I could not have come to Africa to fulfill my lifelong dream without your prayers, my family, friends, and wonderful and generous support team.
My family, friends, and support team: Without your prayers and gifts, I could not have fullfilled my lifelong dream to be a missionary nurse in Africa. I continue to feel at home; of course I miss my family, but I have been blessed to have a new family here in Tanzania!
My teammates and I arrived in Tanzania five months ago. We have yet to being our "work" that we came here to do, medical work. Some might say, "What is taking so long for you to start your ministry. Why can't you just start working at the hospital and start the 'exciting part'?" We understand that frustration because, in many ways, it doesn't look like we are spreading the Gospel, and bringing people into the Church. But we have been doing this work since we walked off the airplane.
We work towards bringing people into the church many times in a day. We are constantly looked at and seen as outsiders. Lots of times we are judged, and our actions and words are looked at under a microscope. Because we are foreigners and because we are missionaries, we are expected to "act a certain" way. While walking down the street, meeting people in the hostel where we used to live, or waiting in a line at the post office, we are given the opportunity to tell people where we are from and what we are doing here. We have the opportunity to speak about the Church, and many times people actually listen.
Throughout history, Orthodox mission work has taken a long time. Saint Herman travelled from Finland, through Russia and across Siberia before getting to the native people Alaska. Saints Cyril and Methodius developed the Slavic language before even beginning their mission work. Saint Nicholas of Japan, who's story I connect with, had the same frustration that I have with learning a new language. It is hard having people laugh at you because you mispronounce or mix up words. People sometimes laugh when you are speaking correctly. It is hard to hear all the laughing on certain days, after a long language lesson, especially.
So it just takes time, but I'm sure you would also like to know what we have been doing since we arrived in Bukoba.
Metropolitan Jeronymos is our boss, and he is a very busy man. He is constantly traveling to villages where parishes are already established and flourishing or where he feels there is one needed. To give you an idea of what that kind of travel is like, let me tell you about an experience I had. Not too long ago, I had the wonderful blessing to travel to Mibwera, a village about a 2 1/2 hour bus ride from Bukoba. This dala dala (bus) ride was a different experience from my other travels. Father Spyridon insisted that I sit in the front seat with the driver. I thought to myself, "I don't want to be the muzugu (white person) that gets special treatment." Boy, was I in for a surprise: no special treatment here! On this dala dala, which could be described as a workmen's van, there were seats, but also people are required to "stand up" (bend down like they are stuck in a square box). Then in the front seat is where up to 5 +(not including the driver) people can sit in a bucket type seat. The front seat passengers are also required to hold, mainly in their laps, all of the fragile cargo the passengers traveling on the dala dala bring with them (ex: bread, valuables, and children). So that was me: one of the six people in the front row with an unidentifiable package and 3 loafs of bread in my lap.
Father Spyridon and I arrived just outside the village. We walked the rest of the way to the church, St. Demitiros, where Orthos was just about to wrap up. This was the parish's feast day, and Metropolitan Jeronymos was present, so all of the secondary school children were preparing to put on a show for the celebration. A few years ago the secondary school was built by a group from Greece. This is the only Orthodox secondary school in Tanzania. Even though it is Orthodox, children from any type of background are allowed to attend.
The afternoon was filled with celebration for the parish's feast day and for the presence of the Metropolitan. There was dancing and singing, and even some rapping by the children and adults. It was a wonderful show that was put on by the people of Mibwera. Then the Metropolitan asked me to travel back to Bukoba with him in his car. So we all scrunched into this land rover. Seminarians, from the diocese's seminary in Kazikazi, were in the back. Three others and I were in the "back seat", and the Metropolitan, Demtri (a driver for the diocese), and a man named Anastaios were in the front. Laughing and Kiswahili could be heard the whole way to Kazikazi. I was hoping to see Mama Maria, a woman I met when I first visited Tanzania eight years ago, when we dropped off the seminarians, but she wasn't around. I still have a year and a half to reconnect with her. I did get to spend a little time with Fr, Geronimos, our host priest eight years ago in Kazikazi.
I arrived back home and told Michael and Felice about my exciting day. I was so tired; we had Vespers and I went to bed after returning a few more emails.
Finding a language teacher, or nurturer as the program we use calls them, is a hard process. The person has to speak and read English fairly well, have the availability to spend two to four hours with you five times a week, and be really, really patient. These are just a few of the qualities that one person needs to have for you to get the best language training possible. Glory to God, after many false starts on finding a nurturer, Felice Stewart, my fellow missionary teammate, and I found a nurturer that we can share!
Thanksgiving was figured out at the last moment. We wanted to invite our new friends and family. Since Thanksgiving isn't celebrated here, many people were not available to celebrate with us. We had just hired our cook/housekeeper and guard/gardner, and James Hargrave, our fellow missionary teammate, arrived a few days earlier to help us restart our Kiswahili lessons. Since James lived in a remote village in Africa for many years of his childhood, unlike us, he knew how to cook from scratch. And, surprisingly, he loves to cook. So God, as always, had the perfect plan for our celebration of Thanksgiving. My name day fell on Thanksgiving Day this year. So the day was extra special for Papazia Katherine, Fr. Spyridon's wife, and for myself. In celebration of both occasions, James cooked a chocolate cake from scratch! It was a wonderful day. We also had some unexpected guests which made the celebration bigger.
Again, I can't say this enough: I could not have come to Africa to fulfill my lifelong dream without your prayers, my family, friends, and wonderful and generous support team.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
2 By 2: Katie Wilcoxson's Interview of Two Priests from Two Different Continents
If you have 11 minutes to indulge in something very goofy (and, in a lot of ways, very touching), this is a video of a Skype session that the parish and Church school children, of Saint John the Forerunner, where my father is the parish priest, Father Aidan Wilcoxson, did with my teammates, our parish priest, Father Spyridon Kaizilege, of Holy Apostle's parish in Bukoba, Tanzania, several of our Tanzanian friends, and myself.
Go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsUlXVsOhHw
Practically, though, the experiment might also prove helpful to priests and folks who work with young people throughout the world since the Saint John's parish used a (free) Skype session on their bookstore computer right after Divine Liturgy (around noon their time); as you can hear in the video, that's about 9:00PM Tanzanian time. But my team and I would love to talk with other communities in the same way, and it's a wonderful opportunity to learn about Orthodoxy around the world (and the interesting things other Orthodox Christians eat). Those who are interested in doing this can contact me at k.wilcoxson@ocmc.org.
Go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsUlXVsOhHw
Practically, though, the experiment might also prove helpful to priests and folks who work with young people throughout the world since the Saint John's parish used a (free) Skype session on their bookstore computer right after Divine Liturgy (around noon their time); as you can hear in the video, that's about 9:00PM Tanzanian time. But my team and I would love to talk with other communities in the same way, and it's a wonderful opportunity to learn about Orthodoxy around the world (and the interesting things other Orthodox Christians eat). Those who are interested in doing this can contact me at k.wilcoxson@ocmc.org.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Updates from OCMC Missionary Katie Wilcoxson
Updates from OCMC Missionary Katie Wilcoxson
The past two weeks have had their ups and downs. I think I finally left the honeymoon stage of being a missionary. It is okay though; I am looking towards the future! I have been so blessed to have the opportunity to speak and skype with my friends. It makes a huge difference also to be able to skype with my folks.
Two weeks ago we welcomed Fr. David Rucker and his son Ethan. It was wonderful to be with them; we all had a great time together. The team visited Father at the Catholic Hostel where he was staying. Felice and I were very interested in the possibilty moving to this hostel. Father and Ethan headed to Mwanza, the new Diocesan headquarters for His Eminence Jeronymos in the northern part of Tanzania. Father was able to give us a quick report about his visit with the Archbishop, and there is a good possibility that we will move to Mwanza within the next two months. This move will bring us closer to our final destination, Bukoba, where the Holy Resurrection Hospital is located.
A week later, Felice and I decided to move into the Catholic Hostel just down the road from the Salvation Army compound. We would still attend Kiswalhili lessons, get our laundry done, and eat meals at the Salvation Army. The people at this new hostel are some of the most welcoming and good hearted people around. Felice and I moved our luggage into the rooms with the help of our taxi driver and the hostel's very kind staff. We, like many women, pack heavy bags, but important supplies are sometimes heavy. We decided to get separate rooms this time around. We feel very blessed to have been able to move into a more contemporary hostel. In the process we met a very nice taxi driver named Bernard. Bernard has become our personal taxi driver. We just call him, and he comes to pick us up. It is very nice to have one person to call and to have someone with whom we have a relationship. I enjoy practicing my Kiswalhili with him, and I am finding that I am able to chat with people on the streets after I finally decided I would start conversing in the language. Tanzanians are not only very grateful for someone's willingness to speak their language, but they are very patiently teaching us the proper pronunciations.
This past Thursday Mama Jango (our Tanzanian culture instructor) took us to one of the larger market places in downtown Tanzania. The market was huge, and I took come very interesting pictures (please check the website for them). Mama Jango made sure we didn't get scammed by vendors charging us too much. She also made sure we didn't set ourselves up to be pick pocketed. The afternoon seemed longer than it was; we all learned a lot and were able to purchase things we wouldn't have been able to purchase otherwise.
Classes with Christopher are going well. Christopher reminds me everyday to "fight to learn Kiswalhili." "Fight" he says "fight hard." Christopher is not only my Kiswalhili teacher, he is also one of the guards for the Salvation Army, and he is also a farmer. Just like in the states, Tanzanians have to work several jobs to make ends meet.
I cannot believe it has been almost a whole month since I arrived in Africa. I told Felice today, "You know what I just realized? I live in Africa!!"
Ninapenda Tanzania
I am thrilled to have the opportunity to learn Kiswahili and to become better acquainted with the Tanzanian culture. I am very excited after class to use the verbs that I learned that day as I have interactions with my teammates and the people around me. The Tanzanians as a whole have been remarkably patient and helpful as I stumble to speak their native tongue--and I stumble a lot. I take the laughs and giggles as a sign of love and appreciation from the Tanzanians as I try to speak Kiswahili. It's like being a small child again, stumbling to use the right word or combination of words as needed. And there are many things that I enjoy about Kiswahili. For example the double words: pikipiki (motorcycle) or buibui (spider) make me laugh like a little girl.
Recently our team had the opportunity to visit our Kiswahili instructors' homes and families. Near their homes is the Mbagala Girls Home. We had a tour of the grounds (you can see some of these pictures at http://kwilcoxson.ocmc.org). As is the case in many orphanages in Africa, many of the girls at Mblagala have lost one or both of their parents from HIV/AIDS, malaria, or tuberculosis. The home is supported and run by the Salvation Army. Pastor Wilson Chacha is one of many people who keep the home running. We met Pastor Wilson at the conclusion of our tour. We were introduced to him, and he was told what our purpose was for being here in Tanzania as well as what our occupations were. He spoke minimal English, so I took the opportunity to practice my Kiswahili, especially the words that I recently learned. I boldly told him "Ninapenda Tanzania" (I love Tanzania). He was elated to hear those words come out of my mouth. He then asked in English "Do you want to live here? Do you want to become a citizen of Tanzania? All you have to do is live here for six years then you can ask the government to give you citizenship. They won't give you any problems. They will happily let you become a Tanzanian!"
I truly believe "I love you" is the best phrase in any language!
Top 10 Tanzanian Things You can Buy From Vendors Who Approach You When
You are Stuck in Traffic or Sitting Down for a Meal.
10. Water or Soda
9. Sugar Cane, Pickled dates, or Tangerines/Oranges/Bananas
8. Bumper Stickers or Posters of Celebrities/Presidents
7. Packaged Cookies, Ice Cream, or Assorted Nuts
6. Tennis Rackets, Children's Toys/clothes, Assorted Children's School
Supplies with characters/celebrities on cell phone minute cards
5. DVD Trilogy of the lives of Barack Obama/Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete
(current President of Tanzania) and the Koran. Any DVD for that
matter.
4. Watches, Belts, T-shirts, Shoes, Ties, Children's clothing, Hats,
or Jewelry
3. Pillows, Beach Towels, Sweat rags, or Steering Wheel Covers.
2. One cigarette (not a pack)
And the Number One thing you can buy from Tanzanian vendors IS (wait
for it): Underwear
The past two weeks have had their ups and downs. I think I finally left the honeymoon stage of being a missionary. It is okay though; I am looking towards the future! I have been so blessed to have the opportunity to speak and skype with my friends. It makes a huge difference also to be able to skype with my folks.
Two weeks ago we welcomed Fr. David Rucker and his son Ethan. It was wonderful to be with them; we all had a great time together. The team visited Father at the Catholic Hostel where he was staying. Felice and I were very interested in the possibilty moving to this hostel. Father and Ethan headed to Mwanza, the new Diocesan headquarters for His Eminence Jeronymos in the northern part of Tanzania. Father was able to give us a quick report about his visit with the Archbishop, and there is a good possibility that we will move to Mwanza within the next two months. This move will bring us closer to our final destination, Bukoba, where the Holy Resurrection Hospital is located.
A week later, Felice and I decided to move into the Catholic Hostel just down the road from the Salvation Army compound. We would still attend Kiswalhili lessons, get our laundry done, and eat meals at the Salvation Army. The people at this new hostel are some of the most welcoming and good hearted people around. Felice and I moved our luggage into the rooms with the help of our taxi driver and the hostel's very kind staff. We, like many women, pack heavy bags, but important supplies are sometimes heavy. We decided to get separate rooms this time around. We feel very blessed to have been able to move into a more contemporary hostel. In the process we met a very nice taxi driver named Bernard. Bernard has become our personal taxi driver. We just call him, and he comes to pick us up. It is very nice to have one person to call and to have someone with whom we have a relationship. I enjoy practicing my Kiswalhili with him, and I am finding that I am able to chat with people on the streets after I finally decided I would start conversing in the language. Tanzanians are not only very grateful for someone's willingness to speak their language, but they are very patiently teaching us the proper pronunciations.
This past Thursday Mama Jango (our Tanzanian culture instructor) took us to one of the larger market places in downtown Tanzania. The market was huge, and I took come very interesting pictures (please check the website for them). Mama Jango made sure we didn't get scammed by vendors charging us too much. She also made sure we didn't set ourselves up to be pick pocketed. The afternoon seemed longer than it was; we all learned a lot and were able to purchase things we wouldn't have been able to purchase otherwise.
Classes with Christopher are going well. Christopher reminds me everyday to "fight to learn Kiswalhili." "Fight" he says "fight hard." Christopher is not only my Kiswalhili teacher, he is also one of the guards for the Salvation Army, and he is also a farmer. Just like in the states, Tanzanians have to work several jobs to make ends meet.
I cannot believe it has been almost a whole month since I arrived in Africa. I told Felice today, "You know what I just realized? I live in Africa!!"
Ninapenda Tanzania
I am thrilled to have the opportunity to learn Kiswahili and to become better acquainted with the Tanzanian culture. I am very excited after class to use the verbs that I learned that day as I have interactions with my teammates and the people around me. The Tanzanians as a whole have been remarkably patient and helpful as I stumble to speak their native tongue--and I stumble a lot. I take the laughs and giggles as a sign of love and appreciation from the Tanzanians as I try to speak Kiswahili. It's like being a small child again, stumbling to use the right word or combination of words as needed. And there are many things that I enjoy about Kiswahili. For example the double words: pikipiki (motorcycle) or buibui (spider) make me laugh like a little girl.
Recently our team had the opportunity to visit our Kiswahili instructors' homes and families. Near their homes is the Mbagala Girls Home. We had a tour of the grounds (you can see some of these pictures at http://kwilcoxson.ocmc.org). As is the case in many orphanages in Africa, many of the girls at Mblagala have lost one or both of their parents from HIV/AIDS, malaria, or tuberculosis. The home is supported and run by the Salvation Army. Pastor Wilson Chacha is one of many people who keep the home running. We met Pastor Wilson at the conclusion of our tour. We were introduced to him, and he was told what our purpose was for being here in Tanzania as well as what our occupations were. He spoke minimal English, so I took the opportunity to practice my Kiswahili, especially the words that I recently learned. I boldly told him "Ninapenda Tanzania" (I love Tanzania). He was elated to hear those words come out of my mouth. He then asked in English "Do you want to live here? Do you want to become a citizen of Tanzania? All you have to do is live here for six years then you can ask the government to give you citizenship. They won't give you any problems. They will happily let you become a Tanzanian!"
I truly believe "I love you" is the best phrase in any language!
Top 10 Tanzanian Things You can Buy From Vendors Who Approach You When
You are Stuck in Traffic or Sitting Down for a Meal.
10. Water or Soda
9. Sugar Cane, Pickled dates, or Tangerines/Oranges/Bananas
8. Bumper Stickers or Posters of Celebrities/Presidents
7. Packaged Cookies, Ice Cream, or Assorted Nuts
6. Tennis Rackets, Children's Toys/clothes, Assorted Children's School
Supplies with characters/celebrities on cell phone minute cards
5. DVD Trilogy of the lives of Barack Obama/Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete
(current President of Tanzania) and the Koran. Any DVD for that
matter.
4. Watches, Belts, T-shirts, Shoes, Ties, Children's clothing, Hats,
or Jewelry
3. Pillows, Beach Towels, Sweat rags, or Steering Wheel Covers.
2. One cigarette (not a pack)
And the Number One thing you can buy from Tanzanian vendors IS (wait
for it): Underwear
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