We awoke to the sounds of morning, roosters crowing and dogs barking - and a radio blaring. The plan was to get up, go to the dispensary for a tour of it and the unfinished nurses’ residence and to deliver the medicines and supplies we had brought. Next we would eat breakfast then go to church. After church we would have our partnership meeting with the elders and leave promptly by 1:45 PM. This way, we could stop at the secondary school where the Idunda students St. James supports attend. Dennis said the way he came was faster and the road was better. We would go home that way. Unfortunately, this would preclude going to the school. I had hoped to deliver the 80 letters our confirmation students had written to their contemporaries at Lutangilo Secondary School. It was not to be. There were another 25 letters or so written to the people of the Idunda congregation by adults and younger kids. Many of the kids drew pictures to express their love and messages to our partner congregation. The adults told about themselves and their lives at St. James. I settled on giving the Lutangilo letters to the District pastor who could deliver them. The other letters and the one from Pastors Walt and Will to the congregation I gave to Deacon Letson Chusi.
Before we went to the dispensary, Dr. Saga took me out to see the parsonage/guesthouse wall. One end of the building had collapsed. For those who have been there, it was the end facing the church, not the one with “St. James Idunda” inscribed on it.
The visit to the dispensary went well. There are two beds in small but separate rooms and a gurney in the main room. The town fathers had been using one room for an office, but had moved out. Nurse Annaliese had full control of the space. All appreciated the medicines and supplies we brought. We walked down to the residence, ample for two nurses. Unfortunately, it was unfinished. The roof and trusses had been kept and the mud walls had been removed, brick walls replacing the mud. It still needs its outer coats of cement and all the interior work before it can be used. The outdoor kitchen was a shell, awaiting the traditional mud wall treatment. Progress had been made in the last two years, but minimal. It will take 3.5 million Tsh (about $2500 USD) to finish it. One alarming construction defect abounds and was obvious in Idunda. Contractors might be told to make the ratio of cement to sand 1:6 (US would be 1:4), however, sometimes the contractor skimps on the cement to increase the profit and may use 1:10 or 1:12. This cement quickly crumbles, as evidenced by the wall of the pastor’s house. Dr. Saga impressed on them how important it is to monitor the construction of the building process so this doesn’t happen. The floor in the church is crumbling too due to the same construction flaw. It was poured in 2006 before Leann and Eric Benson were married there. I told them in our partnership meeting that a floor done properly should last a hundred years. I saw they understood my disappointment in their use of gifted resources. In their defense, if it was done intentionally to stretch their resources, you can understand their desire to stretch the capital as far as possible. I hope they have learned this is a false economy.
Church started 45 minutes later than we had planned, but for no reason that I could perceive. This is Tanzania. Once again, the choirs were stellar. There was dancing. You simply must be there to appreciate this marvel! At first the choir nearly outnumbered the rest of the congregation. As the liturgy began, people trickled in. This week, all four preaching points came to the main church. When it began to rain, the numbers swelled to standing room only. I counted about 80 kids up in front sitting on the floor. Total capacity is about 250. I am certain there were twice that many.
And it did rain. At times, the rain was so loud on the metal roof it was impossible to hear the pastor who was nearly yelling. It continued to rain. I could not help but think about our upcoming travel back to Iringa. The rain did not bode well for us.
Near the end of the service, after we had introduced ourselves we gave our gifts and received gifts in return. I offered the books Holly and Miriam had put together, the crosses from Bob and the shirt from Pastors Will and Walt. We received beautiful kangas and lovely small baskets, not to mention four chickens and a huge bunch of bananas.
All four of the preaching points had brought goods for the post-service auction. With the downpour the auction was not going to be held outside! So an auctioneer from each preaching point began. One of the very talented auctioneers danced as he worked the crowd. I got a couple more baskets.
Before the service, the pastor’s wife had offered an array of baskets for me to choose from. We like Idunda baskets. We probably have enough of our own. Oh well. So I said, “Mama will be very unhappy if I fail to bring her this basket,” pointing to the largest of the array. “And my daughter will be very unhappy if I don’t bring her this one. And my daughter-in-law needs this one.” So I bought the whole bunch. Then I had Msigwa translate this: “If mama is not happy, no one is happy.” The pastor’s wife smiled broadly. (Sorry Sweetheart. It was humor at your expense.)
Unfortunately, as we were about to leave some other baskets appeared, but we simply did not have time to deal with them. When we come back to Idunda, I propose we ask the women to make baskets for us to buy, so they know in advance we are interested.
Eunice said this was the largest auction she had seen after a church service. Like the service, it went on for a long time. Ultimately, we chose to leave before the end of the auction. We still had lunch and a partnership meeting to attend. While we were eating, I managed to print some of the photos I had taken. The little printer I brought was a worthwhile gadget.
The partnership meeting was fine. We reviewed the projects, the dispensary, the cement quality. The pastor did say this. “We thank you for the five bicycles you gave us. We asked you for eight, but the five you gave us are working well.” Hmmm. I felt a little twinge of something at this apparent ingratitude. I said, “So tell me about the motorbike St. James gave you.” There was a brief silence as the turn-about-is-fair-play kicked in. I didn’t mean to be vindictive. “We still own it,” he replied. Hmmm, I thought, still ”own it”? “It is very old, six years.” Hmmm, I thought again. I didn’t think that was very old. “It isn’t working,” he said. Then Msigwa said, “I still have the letter requesting 800,000 Tsh ($560 USD) for repairs.” They had not been maintaining the motorbike since it was brought to them. Understand that Idunda is a long way from anywhere, not so many kilometers, but winding, slippery, hilly roads. Still, there is a reason to get things maintained. This is not resolved for them. I don’t know what will happen at this point.
Finally, we were ready to go. Still raining and over an hour later than our scheduled departure.
Since you are reading this, you can assume we are all well. You should know the trip home was harrowing. Don eventually got used to the chorus of “Go slow, go slow,” especially from the Tanzanians who knew about the steep and slippery curves just ahead. They are so polite though you could barely hear them. I was white-knuckled much of the time. We did get stuck three times, twice on uphill slopes, once in the drainage ditch. Once I slipped getting out to help and got muddy head to toe. Nothing hurt, uh, except maybe my pride. Naaaah.
We arrived home, safe and sound, and with great relief. Trish Bloomquist prepared another of her several tasty meals for us. We recounted our thrills and went to bed. The next day, we spent a long while cleaning up Gary’s Toyota Land Cruiser and prepared for our departure to Dar tomorrow morning.
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