home life

First of all, let me just get out a random mosquito rant: Do they not realize that my mosquito net is a death zone? Because I know they're not suicidal… Can their microscopic little eyes not see the graveyard of small black stains on the white mesh netting, the exact size and shape of their former companions? [**note: Miriam informs me that mosquitoes, in fact, do not have eyes but are led by heat] Because landing on the outside of it means certain death. You have cut off entirely one half of your escape route by coming to rest on a flat surface, especially one that your killer lies directly underneath.

Back to my topic: So, because we haven't yet been able to open the orphan home I'm going to live at and help out with, for now I've been living with the pastor's family, a little bit outside the main part of Arusha. The pastor is currently in America for the year, but I live with his wife, daughter and usually 3-5 various transient house guests, which makes for a a nice lively family environment.

Mama Elisikia, Pastor Eric's wife, and her 18-year old daughter, Miriam, dressed up for church

They are beautiful and hospitable people, so full of love…Mama Elisikia adoringly considers me the replacement for her first-born daughter (about my age) who is currently living in Korea. She started giving me hugs the first day I got here, which immediately induced my love. Miriam graduated high school last month and I'm currently helping her with college applications to go study in the US next year. Luckily for me, she's one of the best English speakers I've met here, so it's nice to have someone to translate ridiculous things for me and to talk to when I need someone there. Mama tries really hard to speak English, and is usually able to communicate what she needs to, but often slows down trying think of a word, gets frustrated and switches to Swahili mid-sentence. For some reason, she also adds "-ee/-y" to the end of pretty much every word, which is cute :) [Actually an exorbitant amount of people do this] She goes, "Ooh my Dohter! You giv-ee me headache-y!" when I come home after 4pm without telling her I'm going to be "late."

I'm filled with thankfulness so many things--my own room and bathroom, soft bed, comfy blanket, mosquito net with no holes [okay, there's just 1], toilet paper in the bathroom, crickets and roosters the only sound outside my window (goodbye Muslim prayer calls & brassy-voiced bread vendors!), and Mama who comes into my room every evening saying "Leez! Come to eat-y!" It's really nice to be living with Christians again…Mama E's favorite phrases--considered appropriate to use in any situation, whether blessing a newborn baby, slowly lowering herself into a chair, or opening the refrigerator door--are "Halleluuujah, thank you Jesus!" "Ooh my God-y, thank you Jeeesus!" and "Ohhhhh I love-y you Jesus." You can just feel that the house is filled with love, peace, and God's Spirit. After living for a month in 99% Islamic Zanzibar and only getting to go to church one time, it's crazy how much comfort I found when I arrived simply in hearing people pray together before they eat! Mama has started to make me pray in Swahili before dinner every night, which struck fear into my heart at the first request, as the classroom doesn't really teach you how to say things like "bless this food to nourish our bodies." I usually manage to haltingly get out "Jesus Christ---I thank you---for---this food---that Mama has cooked. Bless---this house---and this family. In the name---of Jesus. Amen." If I think harder and maybe mention something about the weather and some church prayer request I'm aware of, I'll usually get some exuberant encouragement from Mama: "Goood! Today-ee you try! You are-y real Tanzanian!"

Partly spurred by this pressure to know how to bless the food, as well as by my desire to be able understand the sermons on Sundays, share the gospel, lead worship, teach Sunday School and pray for people, I have started on a quest to read through the Swahili Psalms and New Testament. I'm also trying to memorize one short verse in Swahili per day…obviously it helps to learn verses I already know in English. My first few days' verses:

Mshukuruni Bwana kwa kuwa ni mwema;        (Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good;)
Kwa maana fadhili zake ni za milele.                 (His love/faithfulness endures forever.)
Zaburi 136:1 / Psalm 136:1

Nanyi, mtanitafuta na kuniona                           (And you will seek me and find me)
Mtakaponitafuta kwa moyo wenu wote.             (When you seek me with all your heart.)
Yeremia 29:13 / Jeremiah 29:13

If you think that "mtakaponitafuta" might be hard to say, you are right. Swahili grammar is 'agglutinative,' which means they put all the modifiers (object, tense, relative, etc.) into the verb itself. The plain version of that word would be "tafuta" ("seek") But they add so much into it that it transforms into MegaWord--"mtakaponitafuta" ("When you will seek me"), which I have never been able to not stumble over. Kind of reminiscent of "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious." Intimidating, but runs trippingly on the tongue.

Last week I was encouraged almost to tears by Mama Elisikia and our new guest (James' mom)…they both went off exclaiming for the longest time, 'you're such a special girl…you're so different…you like our food…you don't have high expectations…you bear with us in our lifestyle…you'll be able to be a missionary anywhere, even in a Masaai village…it's so hard to move to another country, you have God's calling on your life...etc etc!' It's so sweet, because I don't see anything special about the way I act--they're the ones who are ridiculously hospitable and generous. I'm always anxious to show thankfulness and not to offend people, even at the expense of having to eat until I'm going to explode or swallowing things that I would have never deliberate sought to put in my mouth.

One one hand, it is affirming to my life direction and investment. My whole life I've tried to take every uncomfortable situation as "missionary training." Have to sleep on the floor? Oh well, missionary training. Spiders? Be brave, missionary training. Hot water is out? Missionary training. If I think about it, I suppose on some level what they're saying is true--I take showers with a bucket of cold water, I open my bathroom door and baby cockroaches scatter, I eat pretty much the same plain food every day--but on the other hand it's really not…even in writing that, I'm like, oh my gosh seriously praise the Lord I have a bathroom door to open, clean water, and these people cooking me satisfying (and free!) food! The problem is that their outburst mainly arises from comparing me to other American visitors who apparently, in their experience, are quite a bit more discriminating in their palates and arrogant in their attitudes. But I'm not too interested in being judged in comparison to Americans… Like at the end of my life, God's looks at me and goes, "Well, at least you were awesomer than the rest of America! Nice job!" Yeah, I'm not banking on that. I don't think anything really looks that impressive next to being torturously murdered on behalf of people that hate you. My goal is not to be impressive…Jesus has that covered.