Kikundi:Ladies Fellowship Group

A few years ago, my host mother and a couple of her friends started a Ladies' Fellowship Group in an effort to create greater unity and friendship among the women from the local church. Every woman in the group has a 'best friend' that they can rely on for support and help in any situation. Every weekend, approximately 40 women from the Nyabange Mennonite Church gather at one member's home. This member acts as the hostess for the group, providing a gathering place and refreshments.

I recently attended my first Ladies' Fellowship Group with my host mother. Our school accountant came along and acted as my translator so I could get some of what was going on. We arrived to find several benches set-up under the shade of some trees and sat in the back row. I came to regret that decision the moment the hired DJ blasted the first tunes thru the pair of large speakers directly behind us. Apparently, there's no 'happy medium' on the volume control; it's either off or cranked to ear-splitting levels. I couldn't help but plug my ears. My host mother was kind enough to request the DJ turn it down.

All the ladies wore their best kitenges (traditional African dress) and swayed to the music. The hostess, accompanied by her 'best friend' and three other ladies, made her grand entrance and sat at the front facing us. The program consisted of an MC leading us in prayer, followed by some hymn-singing and a devotional. Bible study completed, we moved on to the celebration. The hostess' 'best friend' proceeded to shower her with gifts, including money, kangas and kitenge fabric, sugar, bars of soap, a 50L rain container, a wash basin… The hostess' mother, father, aunt, and grandmother who had come from a nearby village to attend the festivities each received a gift. A hired photographer was capturing every memorable moment on his roll-film camera. The MC invited the group of ladies to come and give the hostess a gift. In addition, every group member contributes 1000-2000 TSH at the start of every gathering. This money is placed in an envelope and handed to the hostess at the end of the evening. The women often put this amount towards school fees, household items, and other practical things.

As a guest, I didn't have to contribute a weekly amount but there was a call-up for guests and I was happy to donate some TSH. Once the gift-giving ended, we all lined up for chai and mandazi, TZ donuts that are like a cross between fritters and rollkuchen. We sat and talked, ate and enjoyed each other's company. The local children gathered round and waited patiently for their turn. They eventually got chai and mandazi, a real treat for most of them.

I was humbled by the generosity and servant attitude of these women. They don't have much but what they do have they willingly share with each other and any guest. I was honoured to be a part of their gathering that evening and hope to attend again in the future.

It's Official

I am now a Tanzanian resident. What a relief! It seems like it was such a huge hassle for such a small piece of paper: that's bureaucracy for you. I can now move about the country freely and without worrying that I might be picked up by the immigration authorities. All four of our permits arrived a week ago Wednesday and I didn't want to get my hopes up until Theo actually handed me my piece of paper. Thanks to him, we were able to have them flown from Dar es Salaam to Musoma with a friend of his the day they were completed.

Peter and I went to the Musoma immigration office first thing the next morning to have our passports stamped and made official (to avoid carrying the paper permit). We were ushered into a sparsely furnished office where the immigration official (barely my age) pulled out a stamp and ink pad with much flare, stamped and signed our passports. The one thing they'd forgotten to tell us was to make a photocopy of the paper for their records, not a big deal considering what we went through just to get to this point. Of course, they had no photocopier on the premises and we were directed down the street to the Musoma airport's photocopy shop (I know, random). In any case, they took the copies and gave us our passports without further trouble. Now that I have the permit, I'm hoping to open my own bank account and apply for a driver's license, although I'm not entirely sure if I trust myself driving on the left side and on these roads. It could be an adventure!

Thank-you again for all your prayers while we waited.

Other thoughts...

Most meals with my host family are accompanied by the background noise of the television set. If it's not already on, the TV set is turned on at the start of a meal. This seems to be a common practice in households owning a TV; if it's not a TV, it's a radio. About two weeks ago, a serious thunderstorm hit our area and blew out my host family's satellite TV receiver (yes, I know, I wasn't expecting to get cable television either). Although I'm starting to suffer from international news withdrawal, it's been a welcome change to focus more on the dinner conversation than the 'boob tube'.

My host mother is quick to catch on to anything I particularly like to eat, ie. chapatti, home-made pineapple avocado juice, ginger milk tea, etc. As a result, my breakfast consists of one scrambled egg placed between two slices of toast and a cup of hot chocolate. You can well imagine that my host family's recent trip to Uganda left me a bit out of sorts until Theo, our principal, informed me that my host mum, Rebeka, had left five eggs for me at his house, one for each day they were gone. Very thoughtful!

And I finally figured out why we have only had fish once at my host family's even though we live right next to Lake Victoria and fish are in abundance. All along they thought that I didn't like the local fish, although I had made a point of telling them about how much my family enjoys fishing back home. Turns out it was just a misunderstanding quickly cleared up during last night's dinner conversation when I asked my host father why they don't eat fish. He just looked at me with this curious expression and replied, "Because you don't like it". I just stared at him in disbelief before vehemently insisting that I did in fact LOVE fish and my host mum should have no hesitation about making it. Guess what we had for lunch today? Fresh fish! Delish…

I walked outside the other morning to use the outhouse and stumbled across a small herd of cows grazing in my backyard. That definitely one-upped the group of goats that have recently made the rock formation out back their personal playground.

The recent deluge of rain had everyone out hoeing and planting their fields by hand this Saturday. The elderly worked next to children not more than five years of age. I am absolutely astounded by the amount of strenuous labour the people here do on a daily basis, planting and washing their laundry by hand, transporting water by bike or on their heads, walking long distances to buy basic necessities… But they also know how to enjoy life: after a hard day's work, they visit and spend time together, no appointment or invitation necessary.