Tanzania trip - part 1

Tanzania Trip – September 2010

The time has come again for me to go north into Tanzania, this time not only to Masai land but also to the Rufiji Delta where the Rufiji River runs into the Indian Ocean. The Rufiji Delta is about 200km south of Dar Es Salaam, the capital of Tanzania. I have been into this delta on several different occasions. This time I go with a team from Australia.

Between Dar Es Salaam and the Mozambique border in the south, are at least 21 unreached people groups. Most of these groups live within the Rufiji Delta itself. In the delta there are hundreds of islands, many of these are occupied by small people groups, some groups are just a few hundred and other groups are up to 2000 in population.

I have been told that only one in ten thousand make it through high school. Life here is hard and all about fishing. This is the livelihood. They net, smoke and sell most of their catch. Fish, prawns and crabs are caught and put on ice, once a week a truck delivers ice and loads up their catch and is off to the big city to sell the fish to the local market. Crabs and prawns go to all the places where the wazungu (white people) go, the hotels and lodges. Most locals do not eat these creatures. They are considered dirty, I personally quite enjoy them. The team and I have ate four kilos of prawns while we were on the island called Simba Uranga, that was just for dinner and we paid about 4 bucks per kilo. On this particular island nearly all houses are built on stilts because the tide covers most of the island during the high tides of the full moon.

Very few fruit trees grow here because of the salt water that comes in from the Indian Ocean and mixes with the river water. The few doctors who pass through here say that the people living on these islands have high blood pressure due to the amount of salt water intake. I always thought high BP came from stress, at least in my case it does…

When we arrived to the island of Simba Uranga we were escorted to the chairman’s house, or the mayor of this island community. Over the hours he became quite friendly. He raked the sand clean from rubbish so we could set up our tents, he cooked rice for us, then he wanted to be our night watchman because he said the community was full of thieves and that we could trust no one. We thought it funny that he was so friendly but you know relationships are important out here so let’s build this relationship with the ‘chief’ because this relationship will possible benefit us in the future.

We showed the Jesus film and then got into our mosquito tents next to our now fearless watchman who by this time had a few drinks. After a great night of ‘sleep’ we awoke with the sun. It did not take long to notice that there was a box missing from among our things; the box that held all our fishing gear. Our fearless watchman said “I told you that you can trust no one here!”
Not long after the police showed up on the island making their rounds. Their small boat flipped just off the shore of our now homey little island so they had to swim in. This island was not on their scheduled route but flipping your boat makes you do things out of your routine.

We met the police and told them of our dilemma. They were ready for action, they took our fearless watchman aside and after about a half hour he was handcuffed along with another guy. Our friend reluctantly admitted that he was the guilty one. He was actually fearing for his life, the police could have just killed him right there and then. He set us up from the beginning, that “corker”. Anyway, as the sun lifted higher in the sky, the police said they were leaving. They told us to take the chief and his friend in our boat back to the mainland police station. So we loaded them up with the rest of our gear and we pushed off. While we were sailing our ‘friend’ wanted to make a deal with me, “Hey Simba” he said, “I will tell you where the box is if you let me go.” I was told once that one is only stupid if he makes the same mistake twice. Being a bit wiser we reached the mainland and dropped the two men off at the small police office. I was told the next day that he would go to prison for two months and maybe longer if he does not return the items. It is likely that he will pay his way out and we will never see that box again, but I do know where he lives and will likely be back to his little island in the middle of the delta. One thing that is true about Africa is that time is always coming, so here in this situation we sit and wait and time take its course. Stay tuned ‘For the rest of the Story’ in 2011, maybe 2012 or maybe even 2013….

By the way, the ‘Jesus’ film was a great success. It was the first time for many of the 70-or-so onlookers. Another great thing was that it was all done by batteries. The projector is about the size of a small book, tiny speakers and tiny DVD player, all of this fits into a small bag. Gone are the days of generators, PA systems etc, etc. Pack your little bag and away we go. Now one is free to set up just about anywhere, what a tool! I remember the days when I was in Haiti, we went to a small island off the Haitian coast to show the Jesus film, all the work carrying the generator and 16mm films etc. People have asked me where I got my muscles. Well, that trip gave me most of the few muscles I have…

While in the Delta we also stopped by other island communities. One of those islands is where they build the Dhow boats. This is a vessel that has been on the seas for hundreds of years. These smaller vessels continue to this day to travel the rough seas reaching as far as India. Now this little island community with a population of about 500 have mastered the skills of building these Dhow boats, this island has passed down the skills on for generations. It was a fascinating to sit and watch as a half a dozen men used their handmade tools and handmade spikes to build not just a boat but a piece of art. We watched as they ran their panel planks into a fire and with the right amount of pressure put a twist in the board to mold around the ribs of the dhow. No machines here just true skill. How fascinating it would be to stay with them for a few months to work with them from beginning to completion of a dhow. The smaller ones take 2-3 months while the bigger ones take up to 6 months to complete.

We also stopped to visit a school and a broken-down clinic. The nurse and some of the elders of this island were looking for help from the white man. ‘Because the white man has all the money you know’. I was looking around for the white man with all the money, because neither I nor my mates that were with me had any money.

One of my highlights was the chance I had to sit with most of the island leaders and talk with them about stewardship and serving their community. That if each family were to put 5-10 dollars a month into the community account then in about a year they could get books for their school or have a very nice clinic etc. Well, the excuses kept coming, “we do not have any money”, “ we do not trust the mayor here, he will steal the money”, “we are only fishermen”, “we are not educated”, etc etc etc.

This is the way it is in many places out here. There is no trust among anyone. But I challenged them to be investors in their community and not just consumers. It was good and they seemed to enjoy my little speech. They agreed with me, but to actually start living it out, this is another big issue. This is where you need a long-term missionary to continue coming back to these places to follow up, work with them and help them plan, setting goals together, someone to push them a bit and get them to believe in themselves. We as outsiders (both church and government) have come in for generations and have paid it all or built it all for them. Our view has been that we need to help the ‘poor’ Africans. That they can’t do it. They may not be able to do like we do but they can do with some guidance.

To a large degree Africans are not poor, in their mind they tell themselves that they are poor and this leads to poverty. People blame poverty on lack of education but I struggle with this as well. There are millions of well educated leaders, locals etc throughout Africa, having degrees on their walls, but this has had little effect because their minds are not changed. A good example is with the Masai, they also have a poverty mindset yet they are some of the wealthiest people in Africa. I have been going to Masai land now the past three years and I have continually sat with the church and community leaders as I did on this island in the Delta.
I think they just need someone to believe in them and not look at or treat them as poor people, but challenge them, give some guidance and getting them to believe in themselves to give them self worth and self respect. This has been an important key for me each time I go to Masai land. Salvation is truly important, but much of Africa has been saved a hundred times over it seems, but still they live in this mindset that keeps them under such a destructive curse. Money is not the answer for Africa; it is a change of their world view.

Back now to the Rufiji delta; We made our way back to the mainland and packed up the car in the tropical heat and made our way out of the delta, with our hearts full and our spirits high with the hopes that one day soon we will be able to have a more permanent presence here.
As far as TTN goes, we are communicating and wanting to work with YWAM (Youth With A Mission) who also has a desire to work in the Delta. Missions is too big and is becoming too logistical anymore to do things on your own. This again is another topic.

Packed up and on our way out of the Delta, Noah (our host and guide) took us to the outskirts of the Delta to see the Barabaig people. (I visited these people with Noah a few years ago). This is a nomadic group very much like the Masai. For generations they have been the number one enemy of the Masai. They have fought cattle wars right up into the 1990’s.

At this time many of the Masai have begun to settle down and become more stationary. Rather than moving with their cattle, families settle down but they send their cattle out for grazing and return after several weeks and even up to a year at a time.
Unlike the Barabaig people who still pack up their families and all their goods and with their herds move about in search for ‘greener pastures’.

The Barabaig are an unreached people group. Noah has been building relationships with this particular group that moved into the Delta area about three years ago and he is doing a fantastic job. They have accepted him into their community, thus we were able to visit. Just getting accepted into some of these communities can take years, yet often the first time we come visit we insist on preaching the gospel. I was once told that people will not ‘hear’ your story unless they see your heart. We are not much different in the West. We may appear to listen but the message is not truly heard.

Like the Masai, the Barabaig are still hunters and gatherers. The men hunting with spears and the women and the donkeys are the gatherers. Many still wear goat skin clothing and are decorated with red paint and metal rings around their necks and arms. Through the dedication of Noah one of the Barabaig men gave his heart to the Lord last year and now this little Barabaig community sits and watches to see what will happen. If this new convert is truly transformed and continues to walk a changed life, we will see that one day the whole family will come to Jesus, but it all takes time - this is why we stay…

Our visit would not have been welcome if Noah had not been there. The leader of the group who has six wives gave us permission to take a short walk-about to see his cattle. While we were in his little mud hut, he must have spit on the wall next to him a dozen times. Not sure why, I thought it was a bit gross but hey, I am a Westerner, what do I know? We took a few pictures but was soon rebuked by the ‘chief’ of the group and had to stop. We took some of the pictures after we left and got them developed in Dar and gave them to Noah so that he could take back to the people. I would guess that most of them have never seen a picture of themselves.

After an hour or so we were off to the big city of Dar es Salaam, full of people, traffic, business, a far cry from the seemingly peaceful Barabaig people.

We went off to sleep at a small hotel on the beach, spent some more time with Jeremiah (YWAM director) talking about the future of our work in the Rufiji Delta. The Delta is a vast area of hurting, searching people, a lot like us I suppose, just in a different location.



PS. Please feel free to comment and share your own views and experiences!

Lyle's Week With the Maasai - Part 2

Day 4
Up early to see my surroundings; a few men are guiding their yoke of oxen as they pull the plow behind, preparing for the upcoming rains. Mark soon joins me and off we went to his mother’s small cow-dung hut. Mark disappears inside and welcomes me. Easy for him to say, I can’t see a thing in here. Through this black doorway I go, head down (low ceiling) I bang along till I come to the central room of the small hut. I greet mom and get seated on the bed which is sticks of wood covered with cowhide, no mattresses here. Mom stocks up the fire and my eyes adjust to the dark and with the small fire I am able to make things out. There is only one small hole in the wall and this is it’s the single source of light. It lets the light in and lets the smoke out. After my eyes stop burning from the smoke, the place becomes quite cozy.

Some culture
Over a cup of chai (milk tea) I ask Mark to tell me his story. He was born to the second wife of his father who had passed away some years ago. He is one of 60 children. His father had 6 wives in all. It is common to have many wives in the rural Maasai communities. He told me of the chief a few hills over, ‘he has 32 wives’. So how many children does he have? “Somewhere around 200,’’ he said. “He is a powerful man; he has a thousand cows or more”.
Each of Marks ‘6 mothers’ has their own hut. When married, each wife builds her own hut. It is here where she lives and raises her children.
Where a particular family lives is called a boma. It is like a yard as we know it. There is the main common hut which all family member use. Then there are the small huts for each wife. The boma or yard is fenced in by thorn bushes and branches of acacia trees. These thorns are to keep the cows and goats in during the night and keep the lions and hyenas out. Every time there is a new ‘wife’, the boma increases in size.

The common hut is made of mud while the huts of the wives are made from cow dung. Not sure why, but there is no smell in the hut at all of dung, it is warm and well insulated. Once you are of a certain age for a young man, even before married, he will move out of his mother’s boma and build his own mud hut. Pastor Ezra and I are staying in Mark’s little mud hut just a stone’s throw from his mother place. When a young man marries, his wife too will build herself a little house and then they in turn will start their own little boma.

When boys are circumcised here, (I will talk of the girls also) somewhere between the age of 11-18, this is a very important stage in their life. There are 10 stages in one’s life and for each stage they are given a cow and/or a few goats. They keep these animals with the bigger herd until there are enough to start their own and then they will separate and put their own brand mark on their individual animals. I have seen a single herd up to 200-500 cows all belonging to one family.

It is quite common here that girls are married as early as 8 years old, but mostly by the age of 10. It is the responsibility of the girls and women to be cooking, to be at home taking care of younger kids and do most of the milking of the cows and goats. They are also responsible for bringing water to the boma. During the dry season getting water is not an easy job. Often they will go 10-20 miles for water. They bring it back on the backs of the “Maasai 4x4” which is called the donkey.

The men and boys are responsible for protecting the cows first, then the family. The cow is the highest value and it is believed by most Maasai that all the cattle of the earth belong to them. It was not that many years ago that the Maasai often had war against other nomadic groups claiming that they have stolen their cows a long time ago and now we want them back.
The men are responsible for hunting and carrying on the family line. I have seen young boys not much older than 4 years of age out all day with a small herd of goats. At the age of 6-8 these boys are taking young cows and up to a hundred goats and sheep for several days out in the bush or plains. With no food or water from home, they stay out with the herd. If they are out for several days generally a group of these young boys will travel together.

Amazing, I am still trying to get my 10 year-old to clean up after herself, and to think that if we were Maasai, she could be married by now or out in the bush for several days all by herself watching over a herd of cows. Am I missing something here……?? When the boys grow older and have entered the stage of manhood, this is after circumcision, they will be out with the cows for several years, not returning home at all. Moving throughout the plains with the herd. Living on meat alone.
Mark told me that when he was out there he was gone for 3 years, ate nothing but meat. He also said there are many times that they would be out of water for days, he said once he drank no water for 7 days. So much for the theory of dying after three days with no water. But then these are the Maasai, they can survive the bush.
It is often during these times where the boys will shoot a small arrow into the neck of a young cow and let the cow bleed into a bowl and they will then drink the blood. Often they will mix it with cows’ milk. This custom not only takes place when there is no water but at most celebrations the drinking of blood is part of the festivities. Mark said that he does not follow the drinking of blood tradition now that he is a Christian. Although he did ask me if I wanted to try it! No thanks, I’ll stick to Dr. Pepper…

12 noon.
Today is the first day of the seminar and people are beginning to make their way to under the tree and blue tarp. Most will be coming for the evening sessions once their cows’ are safely in their bomas. 12 noon is the official starting time but likely start at 2 pm. Concerning the subject of time, time is irrelevant here. One is really never late, if things don’t get done today, well tomorrow (or next week) is always coming. In our Western world time is of most importance. Time is more valued than even money in many cases.

In most cases in Africa people would rather spend the time than the money. So if I have to walk 3 hours to get home, well that is better than spending a few coins to take the local bus. Valuable time is always coming so what is the hurry? As outsiders the sooner we understand this cultural difference the less frustrated we become when people don’t arrive ‘on time’.

After our meeting and a goat-and-rice supper we make our way to a small boma to have our evening meeting. It was scheduled to start at 7, but it was just about 9 when we started. Overhead just outside the little hut was a nearly full moon, just about bright enough to read my bible.
The time started with singing and dancing. A time of celebration. Singing in the African context seems to generally always be a time of celebration or praise. Very little ‘worship’ songs as we know it. Seems to never be a time to settle the spirit down and worship, but everything is loud and busy right from the start.
I understand nothing of what they sing, their language is very different from Swahili, but I get in a dance with them and they all laugh at this mzungu. I shared this evening again, finishing up my story.
In the first session this afternoon I told the almost complete story from the beginning. Very often people only know about Christ and salvation but very little of the whole story before Jesus, the foundation of Jesus and the forefathers of the faith. And here in this culture knowing about the forefathers is a very important part of their social system. So today was trying to give a foundation of Jesus and salvation which gives him a place of honor and respect here in Maasai Land.

I am back in my little mud house under the light of a flickering candle. My goat skin covered bed is not the most comfortable, but not too bad except for this board that runs right across the middle of my back and there is nothing I can do about it because pastor Ezra shares the same bed with me, so not a lot I can do but whine and complain about it…

To be continued.....

Lyle's Week With the Maasai - Part 1

Day-1, Saturday
The start of my week with the Maasai was to leave our new home in Kabwe, Zambia, first by bus then on a plane which in turn had several delays. Upon arriving in Arusha and meeting my hosts it was 1 am, and not 6 pm as expected. Coming back to Tanzania this time was with mixed feeling. The memories of trying to keep myself out of prison a few months ago as well and getting two of my friends out of prison were still too fresh in my memory. But that is another story.

For this particular week I was invited to be the guest speaker at an all Maasai seminar/conference. You may ask ‘just who are the Maasai’. The Maasai are nomadic herdsmen, a people all to their own. There have been many books written on these people. Known for their cattle, culture and courage they are likely one of the most popular and beautiful of the nomadic people groups. Tall, thin, sleek brown skinned figures. Although they are not always liked by other African people, they are respected by all. Their culture and traditions go back hundreds of years as they have roamed the central/southern African plains in search for grazing their livestock. In rural Maasai areas both boys and girls are still circumcised, and for a young man to enter into manhood he must prove his fearlessness by killing a lion alone with spear in hand. I am hoping that I will get a chance to go on a hunt during my visit to learn a few things. It is one thing to have a rifle in hand but a spear… A charging two-ton cape buffalo is enough to get you nervous at 200 meters much less 2 meters. I chased a hippo once, several years ago, with only a camera in hand, it all went well as long as I was the one doing the chasing, but soon the tides changed and he stopped and started chasing me. He was armed with 2 tons of body mass and two big tusks about the size of my left arm. This mzungu (white man) may not know how to jump as high as the Maasai, but I tell you I know how to run. I could have brought home the gold that day………….

Many Maasai have moved to bigger towns and cities and have done well in the business world, and due to the western influence some of the Maasai traditions have come to a stop but still the majority of the Maasai still live in bush country throughout Kenya and Tanzania.

I will spend Sunday here in Arusha town and then off on safari Monday morning to the bush which is about 8 hours north of here.

Day-2, Sunday
This morning in church I was asked to bring the message for the evening service, I spoke on ‘values’. Values is something I have been looking at in my own life in a deeper way. We say we hold this or that as a high value but when we take a closer, honest look at where most of our time, energy and money goes, it may be other things that in reality are our highest values.
Today I also met up with pastor Ezra who will be joining me on this trip. He and I worked together lots in Kigoma, he is an overseer of 118 churches, a dear man of God.
For dinner this evening we went out together with Gabriel our host here in Arusha. We went into a small hole-in-the-wall-place to eat meat, a favorite Maasai pastime. Gabriel himself is a Maasai, lives in the city of Arusha, he has taken over his father’s business and they have done well. They have built a beautiful home on the slopes of Mt. Meru which is about 12 thousand ft tall but seems quite small since it sits in the shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro at the height of almost 20 thousand ft.

Over our eating charred but quite good goat meat I asked Gabriel if he was coming with us to the bush to Maasai land. He was not too keen on the idea, he has found his place of comfort here in Arusha for he knows the hardships of the bush life that his kinsmen suffer out on the plains. He laughed and with a big smile he politely declined this mzungus invitation...

Day-3 Monday
Monday morning: here we sit and wait for our bus. Imagine that ‘wait’ in Africa. If one could only count the hours one sits and waits here it must add up to a quarter of one’s life. I guess it is not much different than my kin spending a quarter of their lifetime sitting in traffic. So I took this time to buy a few more supplies and observe the several thousand Muslims that have gathered to pray at a soccer field across the street, this happens to be the month of Ramadan.
This is likely where the driver of our bus is. Anyway what else can one do but sit and wait so why not write a little bit more about my week with the Maasai.

Noise - All the mosques are calling out with their calls to prayers, all those calls are mixed with the city noise of cars and people walking by, along with street vendors announcing their goods for sale. If I could just get my iPod to work I would listen to Don Moen, but I sit here in my impatient mood writing in my journal between these two black lines waiting on Mr. Bus Driver.

Our bus trip is now said to be 9 hours long, we head up to the Ngorongoro crater, which is a wildlife park, passing around the forest rim of the crater, we will head off down the slopes again into the Serengeti plains. The Maasai roam the plains with their cattle as they have for generations, long before the tourists ever showed up, the Maasai herds mingle with all the wildlife. The Maasai warrior herdsman follows his herd for days on end with spear in hand to ward off lions and hyenas.

I have travelled these main roads on several occasions but this time I will get off the main tourist route and head deep into the plains. Well, just in case Mr. Bus Driver shows up I had better go find a choo (toilet). No such thing as a toilet on these local buses. And you only get to stop when the driver needs to take a pit stop and that generally does not happen very often. One learns to just suck it up……….

Mr. Bus Driver being now 3 hours late, we were off to Maasai land in our dilapidated bus. Music just cranked up as we basically flew to make it to the town to Waso before the sun set. Upon arriving at the gate entrance of the Ngorongoro park I was by prior arrangements given permission to go into the national reserve for free, otherwise it is 60 bucks a day. Through the gate and up we climb to the crater rim. Looking below we can see the open grassland of the crater floor, the rim too high to see any wildlife on the valley floor but it is said that down there is the most concentrated numbers of wildlife in the world year round. We continue bouncing down the road towards the plains of the Serengeti.

I saw a small sign on the side of the road that announced a name of a small town that was 84 kilometers up a tiny trek off to the right. I looked at this road and thought how is it possible that road could be so long, the trail is hardly visible. Little did I know what lay ahead. We drove for another hour or so right to the entrance of the great Serengeti wildlife park. Now is was our turn to take a right and head not only 84 km down this hardly visible trek but we went nearly 184 km. Kilometer after kilometer we drove through open plains, nothing but grass as far as the eye could see.Not a tree or shrub in sight. Basically flying down this trek over the rolling hills dodging Thomson gazelles or zebras from time to time. For some reason these gazelles would try to get across the road before we passed, so they would dash off and race the bus and cut across this little trek, like they were going somewhere... There was nowhere to go, it was all the same as far as the eye could see. Maybe they thought it was their last chance to get to the other side. I am sure the driver would be more than happy to hit one so he could make some good soup that night.

During the migration season from February through April these plains are home to literally millions of wildebeests and zebras who give birth to their young during this time. They are all further north in Kenya at this time and will come south when the rains arrive.

We drive on, the bus comes to a halt and we all pile out and well, ladies on that side of the bus and boys on the other. No trees to hide behind so well you just forget about stage fright because who knows how long it will be before you get another chance. Back into our over-crowded bus we take off again. Note: if you ever take public buses in Africa do your best to get a window seat, trust me on this…

Not a town or hut in sight for hours but now and then you would see a Maasai or two walking somewhere. Their red garments can be spotted far off into the green hills. The Maasai (mostly men) walk for hours on end everyday. They can walk literally up to 40 miles each day. Our Maasai host Mark, whom we shall soon meet, walked to Arusha city once, it took him 8 days and it is at least 300 miles away. He took no food nor water, he just walked and survived as best he could.

The Maasai color is mostly red but there are many who also wear purple. Their cover is about the size of a table cloth, they wrap themselves up and use it as a head cover when needed. Their under garment is somewhat like a dress. Together with the beaded necklaces, earrings and spear and staff it seems to fit them perfectly in their exotic appearance.

After 4 hours of driving on this trek it widens and becomes an actual small road which takes us to the small outpost town of Waso. Here some of us pile off and the bus heads of again to another destination.
Here in Waso we are to meet our host Mark (his Christian name). He walked from his village today, only 15 miles away…. He said it just took him 2 hours. We met up with Mark with hugs and kisses and he said the land cruiser will soon be here to take us to the village. Well, after 4 hours the land cruiser did come to get us. Off into the night we drove, we could see the glowing eyes of wildlife dashing off into the night.

I was glad we left Waso town, I was hoping to go to the bush and not be in a small town, I like the bush. Although after a week in the bush this little town of Waso will be welcoming, where one can buy a warm coca-cola and get a tough chicken dinner with rice. But for now I am off to the bush to be with the real Maasai for a week and I look forward to it.