The car doesn't tell the story. The view does!

Sunday in Idunda

 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. 

Idunda and Dennis the Hero!

Saturday

It was touch and go even yesterday, but the sunshine broke though on a beautiful Saturday morning.   What could go wrong?

First off, it rained all night.  The area needs rain.  It’s a blessing, but another day or two of dryness would not be disastrous for the crops and environment.

Second, Dr. Saga’s meeting, scheduled to start at 9 AM and end at 10, did not.  He was specific and adamant that it should, but the others involved arrived at 9:30, despite his admonitions.  Dr. Saga is an Assistant to the General Secretary of the Diocese.  This is an important position.  The fact that those others were late is more a cultural matter than one of disrespect.  He had said if they needed work on, he would leave the meeting in charge of someone else, which he did.  Our departure was to be 10:30 sharp and we did get going about 11 AM.  Not bad!

We were loaded!  That is, the vehicle was loaded.  We were all high on life.  We stopped at Ipogoro, a small village on the outskirts of Iringa.  Consider it a suburb.  The schedule was to stop at Lulanzi, photograph the dispensary being built, lunch at Idete and on to Idunda.  The paved road ends abruptly outside Ipogoro and from there, except for a 2 km stretch which is paved for some reason, the road is gravel or less….

We got to Lulanzi and took photos.  The original footings still showed the error.  The contractor had made them about double the expected square footage, if I got this detail correct.  Inside, Dr. Saga noticed one of the doorways was out of square and ordered it to be repaired.  He is an astute man, well versed in many things.  He served as general contractor (and bird-dog) on his own home.  (He is also an excellent physician, for whom I have deep respect.)

To our surprise, dark clouds were sneaking up on us from behind.  We got in the car, but rain quickly followed.   The road to Idete is “hapa, hapa,” which I believe is Kihehe for “bouncy, bouncy.”  The rain picked up.  We know we would get to Idete, but that would be a decision point.  We arrived at Idete about 2 PM, no problem.  Lunch was waiting, rice, chicken, beef, sauce or “soup” and ugali if I remember correctly.  Eating is always preceded by hand washing.   One of the women pours warm water on the hands over a pan.  It’s always drip-dry. Dr. Saga and I paid attention to the recommendations I made in my brief talk on diabetes.  We ate less rice and less in general.  Good for us!  The rain shower stopped and the sun shined.  We picked up District Pastor Patson Lubawa and started out again

The road to Idunda, well, road is a huge exaggeration, is long, winding, muddy, steep and not all that much fun, especially in rainy season.  We got stuck in the mud twice.  Both times, we got out with a little pushing.  Some parts of the, uh "road" are covered with grass, with barely visible trails.  Going was slow.  Even so, in one grassy area, the trail disappeared for a moment.  Suddenly, we found ourselves sliding off the bank and hung up on the steepest slope you can imagine.  An inch in either direction would have determined whether we noticed nothing and kept on moving or instead toppling down the mountain slope, end over end, rolling about 15 times.  This happened so fast, I didn’t even see my life flash before me.  Of course, I’m old, so that takes awhile.  Thanks to Don, we remained safe.  We got out.  The angle of the tippage was frightening.  We were completely unable to move the vehicle.  To our advantage, we had a winch.  Also, there was a strategic tree to anchor the winch hook.  (Don calls this serendipity a "God thing."  Be thankful for God things.)  Unfortunately, even with the winch we were stuck.  The truck was overheating, so we wisely shut it off.  Unfortunately, we could not get it started again.

As it happened, late the night before, the General Secretary, Chavala, called and canceled on us.  We were supposed to have two vehicles since there were so many scheduled to go.  We would have had five and four in each vehicle, instead we had seven in one vehicle. 

We were stranded.  There was no cell service where we were, several km from the nearest village.  Lubawa headed off to the village with Msigwa when it was clear we needed help to get out of our predicament.  Crazy wazungu!  We sat for an hour.  In the mean time, we had another shower, so we climbed back in the car.  About 6:15, Eunice was tired of waiting so she walked down the road to try her cell.  Amazingly, she got Gary!  (Consider it another God thing.)  Gary called Dennis, Dennis returned the call and said he would leave in fifteen minutes.   He did.  He said he would fly.  He did.  We knew it would be 3 and 1/2 hours.  Msigwa returned first with some boards we could use to dig away at the dirt we thought was the key to escape.  We needed a hoe or a spade.  Eventually, about 18 men and several young onlookers arrived to help, with hoes at least.  They dug away.  It looked helpful.  We needed a battery charge; the battery having been drained with the winch did not have the power to turn the diesel over fast enough to start.  Someone on a piki piki (motorbike) retrieved a six-volt battery, which did not work.  I think we were all crestfallen. 

To our surprise, Dennis arrived at 8:20.  After three more hours of digging and fussing with the batteries, it looked like we were ready to try pulling the vehicle out.  Finally, after several false starts, we were able to pull the vehicle from its one-foot-in-the-grave status without rolling it down the hill, potentially end over end.  Of course, it still needed resuscitation.  A tow chain was hooked to it and we pulled it to get it started.  Whew!  What a relief when the lights came on and we could hear it roar! 

By now it was midnight.  Don led the way with Dennis following.  It was winding, steep, muddy, slippery and treacherous.  We arrived in Idunda to the cheers of many, including the inhabitants of the two vehicles, at 1:30 AM.  We were bushed.  Even before we got out of the vehicles, one of the pastors prayed a prayer of thanks.  Naturally, he had prayed for our safety before each leg of our journey.  Members of the congregation danced and sang.  We ate silently.  We all slept in our clothes.

Last Night and Today

Leaving Ilula

It is Thursday evening here, 9 PM.  The guests have gone home and I should be packing.  But I will write for a bit first.

Kelsey and I found a new watering hole since the Peace Garden has not been open since the big group left.  It is called Namanga Grocery, after a region bordering Kenya and Tanzania. I know the gang would have liked it too.  We first went there with Dr. Mango and found the store is owned by one of the nurses at the hospital, Georgiana.  Somehow we told her about guacamole, one of the few recipes I know by heart, and told her we would make it for her.  We gathered the ingredients with the help of an acquaintance of Anna’s, our caterer.  Esther came running out to greet us, so for the price of a soda, she and her son Dominic helped us make the correct purchases.  We invited them, Anna, Tura and Lucy, the housekeepers, to our guacamole party.  We also ran into Dr. Mango at Georgiana’s Namanga Grocery.  Of course out of politeness we joined him for a beer.  He informed us that Georgiana was out of town, laying the permanent gravestone for her father, a custom to signify the end of 40 days of mourning.  She was to be the guest of honor!  So we invited our friend Dr. Mango instead.  Why stand on ceremony? 

The guacamole was excellent and most liked it (not Esther).  I brutalized myself when I sliced my finger fighting with an unripe avocado.  I hate it when I do that! The other doctor, Kelsey, repaired it with plastic surgery technique.  (A steri-strip from my first aid kit.  I didn’t need the morphine.)  I have a dirty bandage on it with tomato stains (no blood).  In the morning I will trade the bulky bandage for a BandAid, supplied by Anna, my own supply decimated by other minor emergencies over the years and never replaced.  Wow!  That sounds like Africa!

We had a great time.  Sadly, we will miss Anna, charming, attractive and a good cook.

Tomorrow we will say our formal goodbyes at devotions and morning report.  Sometime before noon, we will go to Iringa and spend the night.  We will leave for Idunda in the morning with a big troupe.  (As I write this, we had a big lightening strike and the power momentarily went out.  I think Idunda may still be questionable.)

Kelsey and I were chuckling about how we have adapted.  This morning I said to her, “Now there’s something you won’t see in the hospital at home.”  It was a chicken walking around the hospital wards.  The walls need patching and paint.  There are no screens on the windows, some of which have broken glass.  The only imaging equipment available to us is ultrasound.  Thankfully, Dr. Saga reads them well.  There is an x-ray, but simple as it would be to flash the film, it is not legal without a certified technician.  We have no hemoglobin reagent (coming tomorrow?), so our clinical assessment must suffice, crude as it may be.  We can test for HIV and malaria, contenders for diagnoses 1 and 2 in incidence.  We use syndromic patterns for most diagnoses, like Typhoid and acute watery diarrhea.

Friday afternoon at Neema

We have left Ilula.  We had many goodbyes this morning, several repeated several times.  All the people at Ilula were gracious and helpful, tolerant of our lack of Kihehe and Kiswahili, the local languages.

The drive to Iringa is beautiful.  We arrived safely.  At one of the phamacies, Kelsey and I put in an order for drugs we are taking to Idunda in the morning and cabbed the two big boxes back to the NSSF apartments.  

Tonight it is Roger Bloomquist's birthday and 11 are going out to dinner with him.  We still won't match any Tanzanian choir in our "Happy Birthday" song.  Our present to Roger (and Trish) is our presence at their apartment over night and Monday.

I am planning on having Monday in Iringa to do a little shopping, for what I am not quite sure.  Then Tuesday already we are tagging along to Dar es Salaam and the final leg of our trip.  Kelsey will be meeting Amy and friends to spend a few days in Zanzibar and me, home.

If you have read this far, you surely saw the photo of Kelsey dangling off Gangalonga, but don't worry Gail and Vance, you also probably guessed we rescued her!  Of course, it was a cliffhanger, as you can plainly see.  To know she is well, simply look at the Isimila photo, taken after Gangalonga.

It is now raining a torrent.  This is much needed, but only tomorrow will we know if we can get beyond Idete.  (This is a lot like the end-of-the-season shows on TV isn't it?  So stay tuned....)

Cliffhanger

In Ilula, February 6-9

Sunday Feb 6

The last several nights we have been without electricity for several hours.  It goes out about dusk or before and comes back on around 11 PM.  I believe these are planned outages.  Tanzania relies on hydroelectric power and without rain, no rivers, no electricity.  So this way they conserve.  All of TZ is in the same time zone, so there is no rolling across the country.  I do not know if all the cities are treated the same, e.g. whether or not Iringa goes out to at the same time Ilula does.  Last night was unusual.  Off at dusk, yes, but off all night.  This is not good at a hospital.  Currently, no pun intended, the hospital generator is offline.  It has been sent to Iringa for repair and should be back in a day or two.  I understand that the hospital will get another electric line to satisfy the growing need for power on campus.  That will be good, but not without emergency back-up.

We watched Jeremy Rifkin on my MacBook, downloaded last spring, if I remember.  It was very interesting, indirectly answering the question, “Why are we here?”  Not the existential question, but just why in Africa doing what we are doing.  It has to do with empathy, but read the book or watch the video on iTunes (Jeremy Rifkin, “The Age of Empathy”).  It is worth an hour. 

One of his over-arching ideas is that we (the world) need to have distributed energy instead of the centralized carbon-based energy sources we have.  Of course that means solar, geothermal, maybe wind in our backyards.  It would solve the problems in the poor countries, since development of a grid could proceed and isolated places like Idunda and even Ilula would be less dependent on the wait for the power grid. 

Sunday

What does a Tanzanian do for fun on a Sunday afternoon?  In general, have no idea.  But I know what we did today.  Kelsey and I skipped rounds this morning because I had promised to take photos and offer a greeting at the 8:30 service.  I have promised that I will take the message back to their partner congregation, Chisago Lakes.  My understanding is that no one from Chisago Lakes has visited Ilula.  They support one student, Felix, a nephew of Pastor Muyenze.  Felix just passed his Form Four.  Many, many students did not, especially at the public schools.  As an aside, a criticism of American teachers teaching here is that students are taught "to the test."  Profs teaching at Tumaini U report the inability of students to think critically, a consequence of teaching to the test.  Sounds like a criticism we hear from teachers at home.

The Ilula Lutheran Church wants their companion to know about them (and visit).  They have plans to enlarge their church and finish the pastor’s residence (100 bags of cement for the house).

But the big deal this Sunday was that their youth choir was having a fundraiser to buy guitars, an amp and a mixer, 2,000,000 Tsh (about $1350 USD).  At 2 PM we went to the District Office, near the hospital and the church for this celebration.  The choir sang many songs and there was a featured guest speaker.  She is a professional singer, I think originally from the church.  Then there was an opportunity to contribute.  After that, an auction for a special cake.  Between the two, I emptied my wallet.  I still didn’t win the cake.  (Don’t worry Sweetheart, there wasn’t that much in my wallet at the time.)  The woman who did win, Rita, a nurse at the hospital, donated it to the party and everyone had a little taste. 

We were served lunch.  This is the way in Tanzania.  By about 6 PM, the party was over.  Our caterer, Anna, found a locked door at lunchtime since we were gone, which meant she had to make a second trip, which she did without complaint.  I know she likes us, but she is gracious to a fault!

Tomorrow we have visitors from BKB so we will accompany these wazungu to Image school.

Monday

I have a haunting image to share.  But I have decided not to upload the photo of a baby with end-stage HIV.  The mom brought the baby to clinic with profound malnutrition and deadly dehydration.  If the baby has HIV, so does the mother.  The infection may be passed in utero, but also in mother’s milk.  So she needs drugs during pregnancy and after if possible, if the baby is to survive.  Sharing the photo would be an effort to bring to you the reality of this devastating disease, but you will need to take my word for it on this one.  The infant died about two hours after admission to the hospital.  Can you imagine the anguish of the parents?  First the emaciation, then profound suffering and finally death.

On a happy note, the wazungu arrived.  The first stop is always the administrator’s office for a history of Ilula District Hospital.  Dr. Mango is always gracious and hospitable.  Next I got to lead a tour of the hospital campus.  Despite being a small group, I gave them the full load. Pastor Marty Ericson had several along from Como Park Lutheran and others from Immanuel or friends of Immanuel: Dick, Jim, Barb, Phyllis, Terry, Al and Sue.  I think I got everyone’s first names.  Friends, pole sana about your last names.  (At least two who were planning on coming were rerouted from Cairo to Europe, then back  to the US.)  We had box lunches they were kind enough to bring and Kelsey and I accompanied them to Image School.  Terry stayed with Dr. Saga.  She is a nurse who practices healing touch.

We had great conversation on the bus to and from Image.  They dropped us off and were on their way to River Camp near Iringa for dinner.  Speaking from experience, they will enjoy it!  Thanks for coming to Ilula folks!

Wednesday, February 9

Yesterday it rained all afternoon.  It REALLY rained.  None of this brief little shower business.  The 5 gallon pails the staff collects rainwater in to boil for coffee were filled in minutes.  Of course that’s run-off from a roof, but it rained hard.  The rain is badly needed for the crops.  I am thankful for the rain, but it raises a cognitive dissonance.  If there is rain in Idunda, we may be unable to go.  It is simply too dangerous.  The mountain roads and sheer slopes can swallow a vehicle.  When we were in Idunda in 2006, we had some wet roads and even got stuck on the way home. We simply need to be prepared not to go if they have had rain for three days before or if they have one rainstorm like we had here.  It means the medicines and gifts may have to wait.  The pastor at Idunda called Dr. Saga this morning to report the roads are good, but I am quite sure Dr. Saga was not convinced.  We will see what the weather brings us in the next two days.  Both Kelsey and I would truly miss the opportunity, but there is real danger.

The bishop was here for a meeting yesterday (lasted several hours), but had no need to greet the wazungu.  I think the Bibis (my mom and Nona, the Bibis) were the main reason we had audience with him in 2008.

This morning I delivered a short lecture presentation about Diabetes 1 and 2.  I made the Power Point from memory (I was glad to realize I know some stuff after feeling so lost the past couple weeks).

The Tanzanians were certainly engaged and asked good questions at the end of the talk.  It was very fun.  Today rounds went well with Dr. Sevelo, who is a good teacher and patient with the wazungu.  I delivered a short bedside treatise on a common fungal infection.  I couldn’t help myself.  I finally knew about something!  (Ok, it isn’t quite that bad.)

Early this afternoon, Kelsey and I walked into town.  A woman named Esther, who I thought was all of 16, recognized us and introduced her son of about that age.  For the price of a Coke, they helped us find the makings for guacamole, a recipe I know by heart, but the Tanzanians are unfamiliar with.  It was to be a demo for one person, but now we will invite a few others to try it out.  It will be close to a wazungu party.  An African party would surely include music and dancing.