Last weekend, the five USA folks who are at Mwangaza to facilitate seminars decided to build in relaxing times between the very intense seminar week and the very full, but not so intense, week of planning and preparation. Saturday we did some walking and shopping in the city markets. Sunday morning plans included a brunch at a nice hotel on the Clock Tower roundabout of central Arusha, then on to church services at the non-denomination Christian church in the city.
However, taxis here are privately owned mid-sized or smaller sedans, so seating is limited. When the very rough and rutted Ilboru Road is part of the route, no taxi driver will allow an extra passenger, for fear of losing their oil pan and/or suspension. "No problem", said Mike, "as I enjoy walking, especially the downhill version of Ilboru. Will get a head start and meet you there."
Didn't notice many specifics about folks when traveling down Ilboru Road, as the rocks and ruts demand my constantly looking down to better my chances of avoiding falling down. Fewer folks out and about on Sunday than at that time of most days, and several greeted me. Some Mwangaza staff have told me that neighborhood folks think I might be a "pastor", so dressed up and striding out on Sunday morning probably reinforced that notion.
The bottom of Ilboru Road "T"s with the highway which runs from Moshi, Tanzania, to Nairobi, Kenya. A quarter mile along this highway brought me to one of three traffic lights in Arusha, all three along this highway. I crossed with the surge of folks in kangas and shukas, suits, pantsuits and dresses, while daladalas (minivans serving as local busses) and motorcycles honked at us while they basically ignored the lights.
The sidewalks from the highway to the Clock Tower area are rough and pitted, but wide enough for three or four people. So I could see that some distance ahead, in the shade provided by a lone tree, sat a man holding his hands in front of him. On the other side of the tree, a woman sat in the dirt just off the sidewalk, next to her a bunch of bananas for sale. As I continued in their direction, I noticed that almost everyone passed by without breaking stride — except for a couple of people who stopped to buy one/a few bananas. When still 50 meters away I saw a man on a bicycle, loaded with a stack of 4 cases of empty pop bottles, coast to a stop several meters after passing the tree. First, I was amazed that he found a position in which the bike would balance with just the kick stand to keep it from falling over. Slowing to watch, I was even more surprised when he did not approach the woman for bananas, but instead stooped over the old man and dropped some coins in his cup.
No sooner had he re-mounted his bike and I had resumed walking, than another man, younger but just as poorly dressed & dirty, stopped at the tree. He was pulling one of the large two-wheeled carts, this one loaded with solid cement blocks plus a large bag of maize or rice — a very heavy load. Now within a few meters, I could actually hear the "clink" as his coins hit the bottom of the crippled man's cup. Then this man picked up the front bar of the cart, lowered his head and shoulders to lean into the weight, and moved his load forward just as I reached the tree.
After church we all returned to Mwangaza, changed into more relaxing/working clothes and individually headed toward our places to read, write, and/or work with computers. As I went through the campus gate, Andrew, Mwangaza's fundi (Mr. Fix-It) was sitting on the front porch, reading his Swahili-English Bible in preparation for the children's Sunday School he leads on Sunday afternoons. We caught up on the night's sleep, family wellness, "Where is Mama Sharon?", etc. Then he asked me about the readings we had heard at church — in particular, had our church read from Acts 3: 1-11? Andrew then read the passage to me, and allowed me to read along so I would better understand his broken English. The story is of Peter & John, after Pentecost, meeting the lame man at the entrance to the temple. But they do not have the "alms" the crippled man requests of them, and instead offer him what they have been given -- "In the name of Jesus, rise and walk."
After finishing, Andrew asked, "How do I tell my Sunday School children about this story?" So I sat with him, and told him what I had seen on my way to town. It took lots of gestures & some pantomime from both, even some "pictionary" efforts on scratch paper, but we did communicate — the story was told and understood.
I received a strong two-handed handshake! And a big smile! And a hug! "My children", Andrew said, "see (people) like lame man. Maybe have shilingi (money), maybe no shilingi. All (can) give Jesus('s) love." Then he looked at his watch and headed up the hill to his children.
"No problem", Mike said, "as I enjoy walking..." Thanks for letting me move slow enough to see ...
And thanks for letting us share the story.
Peace and blessings,
Mike & Sharon
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