Hooray! A Personal Project Now Online!

None of us are identified solely by our job, and living in Tanzania provides me with countless opportunities to start or promote or help out a project that is completely unrelated to work, but is a passion, nonetheless.  This is one of those projects.  I do want you all to know that this is all on me...there are no supporting organizations, no donors already committed, and it simply won't happen without your help.

The Leadership Seminar is something I am so passionate about offering for the village pastors I've encountered over the past several years, including the recently deceased Pastor Masatu.  A number of factors, including the time works in Africa, have made the window for fundraising for this event very tight, so if you can help at all, I would greatly appreciate it!

Raising $5,000 should get all 24 pastors to the conference, but if we can get to the threshold of $3,000, it can go forward, although with half the number of pastors.

Please:
1.  Click on the photo or go to the FaithFunder website (https://www.faithfunder.com/vproject.php?fpv=OTEyMDg3).
        2.  Give to the seminar.
               3.  Share this information with others.
                      4. Pray for the event!

Thank you so much, friends and family and strangers.  I greatly appreciate your support!

In Memoriam - Stacey Hartfeld

For the past ten days or so, I've had a distraction.  In the back of my mind as I go about taking care of Innocent and Wesley, cleaning house, checking Facebook, and sending a Mother's Day present to my mom, in my mind is the thought that Stacey can't do these things any longer.

Stacey was my friend since we were three years old.  We went to school and church together until we graduated from high school and went off to different colleges.  When I think back over those 14-15 years and remember Stacey, I'm brought smack up against some of the ugliest things in my own character.  I have memories from as young as six of getting in trouble at recess for not letting Stacey play with me.  I remember in middle school teasing Stacey mercilessly to impress older, "cool" kids, and in high school I resented her for calmly accepting the poor performance of our volleyball team while I rode emotional highs and lows along with our wins and losses.  Essentially, from the time we were in first grade, Stacey was a kind, gentle, sweet girl, and I was bossy and controlling.  Yet, we were friends.  Actually, aside from the low moments that stick in my mind because of my own bad behavior, we had a fantastic friendship.  We sang in ensemble and in a duet together, we played PACEbowl together, we played volleyball together and co-captained the volleyball team our senior year.  We were the only two 8th graders on the girls' high school basketball team.

I remember Stacey for her gentle and quiet spirit, her love for other people, regardless of their "cool" factor, her hard work--I think she was the first in our class to buy her own car--and her faithfulness.  She was so faithful to be at youth group, at ensemble practice, at volleyball practice, and work, but I remember her the most for smiling.  As I've been looking through the few photos I have with me in Africa of our childhood, she's smiling in every single one...a giant, ear-to-ear, full face smile.

I remember the time Stacey came to Physical Education without any shorts on, because the way she was wired, it was worse to be late or skip a class than to show up half-dressed.  I remember a slumber party at Stacey's house and the crazy pictures that resulted.  I remember the time Stacey and I shared a dorm room at George Fox University, as middle-schoolers, and made friends with various Mennonites and home schoolers from around the state at the very first Convention that our school participated in.  I remember Stacey, a careful and cautious driver, never, ever winning the inevitable race from off-campus lunch back to chapel on Wednesdays our senior year.  I remember how proud Stacey was of getting to go deer hunting with her dad.  I remember when Stacey started dating Jacob, so quietly at first, and I remember their wedding day and how beautiful she was that day.  I remember how diligently she kept in touch with me as travel and moving and life created separation, and how excited she was for our first, informal class reunion.  I remember how she rejoiced over the birth of each of her five children.  

Vividly I remember how bravely Stacey announced that doctors had found cancer and that the prospects were grim.  I remember how bravely she wrote updates about treatment after treatment, travel after travel, tumor after tumor.  I remember seeing her when I first got back to the States last October, and I wouldn't have recognized her, except for that gorgeous smile.  I remember how the only shadow that crossed her face  during that lunch was when she told us that she'd not be able to have any more children.  I remember the last time I saw Stacey, in January, after a brain tumor had caused some paralysis in her face, and how she loved looking at the photos of our childhood.  I remember how she cried when Angie announced that her daughter, born last week, would have "Stacey" as her middle name in honor of our friend.  I remember hugging her goodbye, thinking that this might possibly be the last time I would see her.

It was, indeed, the last time I saw her.  Stacey's aggressive brain tumors finally took her life on 14 April while she was home with her husband and children.  She was in so much pain at the end, and was not herself.  Her memorial service is tomorrow at Athey Creek Church, and I'm sorry not to be able to attend and pay tribute to a wonderful woman, a great friend, and a loving, faithful daughter of our Heavenly Father.

Photo taken from Facebook, credit to Debi Criss

Visit to Shinyanga and Mwamalili

Last Friday Wesley and I went down to Shinyanga last Friday to work with Path of Hope again and to see the Blakeman family, some American friends who are working with Lahash in Uganda and were visiting Tanzania. Edwin also came over to Shinyanga so that we could meet about a few projects. We got to celebrate Easter with the church at Nguzo Nane in Shinyanga. This church is the location of our first group of Lahash-sponsored kids. I really enjoy this church, because, although it is small, it is young and vibrant. (Children were nearly half of those present on Sunday.)

As always, we loved staying with the Nyakyemas. Wesley got lots of time playing with his buddy, Christopher, and I benefitted from the wisdom and cooking of Jeanette. The first morning we were in their home, Wesley sat on the Bishop’s lap all through breakfast eating his pancakes and sipping tea, like such a big boy!

One of the real highlights, though, was a visit to Mwamalili village to register 25 new kids for the Lahash program. You will remember, Mwamalili is the church that just lost their pastor, Msiba Masatu, whom I wrote a tribute about last week (find it by clicking here). We drove out to the village for a 4pm meeting. We had to leave at 3pm, because the “short cut” road has a lot of holes from recent rains. To get to Mwamalili, one drives to Old Shinyanga (where the town used to be before they moved it closer to the highway). Just past town, one turns off the road onto a dirt track (I won’t even call it a road). From that point on, if I were told to find my way to the church, I couldn’t even remotely tell you. There isn’t much of a road, or trail, even, and to the unfamiliar eye (like mine!), it appears that we’re just driving off into the middle of nowhere bush. The directions are along the lines of “continue along the dry river bed, look for the row of shrubs, just past the cattle path, with the new rice field on your left, but be careful of the ditch they have dug to drain water into the rice field.”

When we arrived at Mwamalili church, I was reminded of the other hardship this church has faced: on Christmas Eve, some wind or some hands pushed in one wall of the building. The believers have been experiencing a lot of opposition from the local witch doctors and their followers, so, although no one can say for certain, it is strongly suspected that theirs are the hands responsible for the damage. It is impossible for them to meet in their building now, so they meet under the tree outside, right next to the damaged church they had built with their own hands and the pile of rocks they have been collecting for a foundation for a permanent building. To repair the existing mud brick structure would be approximately $300, and to build the permanent church would cost an estimated $2,500 to $3,000, but both of these figures are far beyond the capacity of this small, poor congregation.

The congregation had been told that some guests from Lahash were coming on Tuesday afternoon to meet with the children and their parents. Actually, they were reminded of the “American lady with the little baby who came here before” and when they heard that I, or more probably, that Wesley was coming back, they cheered. One of the biggest needs in this village is for the parents to prioritize their children’s education. In an agricultural and livestock community like this one, school-aged children are very valuable shepherds, cattle herds, diggers, planters and babysitters while the parents work. It is completely logical, in the short-term, to keep their children home to support the family, but we are trying to give them a larger vision for their children, who could come back to be doctors, entrepreneurs, politicians and pastors and build the community.

Edwin and I are the only Lahash representatives who have been able to visit Shinyanga so far, but we are so grateful to have another great partner. The team at Path of Hope is facing so many obstacles, but they are united in caring for the kids and looking for ways to serve them and their families. We’re really excited to see the children in these two chapters, urban Nguzo Nane and rural Mwamalili, grow and mature!

In Memoriam - Pastor Musiba Masatu

"Mch masatu wa mwamalili amefariki leo jioni."

The above message arrived in my phone inbox last Wednesday night.  During the moment or two that it took my Swahili to kick in and decipher this message, my stomach was dropping.  "Pastor Masatu of Mwamalili has died this evening."  Tears sprang to my eyes.

I've had several acquaintances, clients and children in our program die over the past several years, but this was a death that really hit me hard.  A little context: Mwamalili is a village near Shinyanga, and is a chapter of the newest Lahash sponsorship project, Path of Hope.  When the Lahash East Africa staff members spoke at a seminar for Path of Hope last July, we met Pastor Masatu and he brought us out to his tiny church to meet the children in his program.  Many of you heard me mention this church during our recent visit to the States, because they had really inspired me.

The Path of Hope and Lahash East Africa teams in July 2012
Photo by Will Campbell

"This is the pastor of Mwamalili.  His name is Musiba, which, in his language means 'lion' like the Lion of Judah!"  I was introduced to Pastor Masatu at the seminar last July, and while I smiled at the "Lion of Judah" comment, I was struck by the quiet intensity of the man.  Over the next several days, Masatu's smile, his attention to the complex issues we were addressing in the seminar, and his obvious pride in his church came to compose my strong positive response to the man.

I don't know a lot of his history before the past two years, except that he married a lovely nurse and they have several beautiful daughters.  His eldest daughter is the secretary for the diocese and has her own beautiful daughter.  So I do know that Pastor Masatu was a husband, father and grandfather, and I know that he was an evangelist when he first went out to the small village of Mwamalili.  The village had no church, and  they appreciated his ministry so much that they invited him to come and start a church.  A couple donated land, and Pastor Masatu rallied the other members to build a small, mud-brick church with very simple seats.  Every week the members bring large rocks, which sit in a large pile near the church building.  These stones will one day be the foundation for a permanent church building.  That is the faith he was teaching and modeling for his congregants.

In Tanzania, as in many other places, the smaller and more remote the church, the less the pastor gets paid.  It's not uncommon for a pastor to receive 10,000 TSH as his monthly salary, which is approximately $7.  At the same time, these pastors are exposed to the intense challenges and needs of very poor communities.  Pastor Masatu was no exception.  He was so moved by the needs of the orphans, widows and very poor church members that he contributed the idea for fundraising for a grain mill that would be income-generating for the church and a much-needed service for the village.  He also assisted in identifying 25 vulnerable children in the community who are pending acceptance into the Lahash sponsorship program.  Although those children have no sponsorship yet, he was bringing them together each week to learn Bible lessons and be prayed with.

About one month ago, Pastor Masatu became sick.  The illness was hard to identify, but involved difficulty breathing and then fluid in his lungs.  When Wesley and I were in Shinyanga a few weeks ago, we went to visit him at his home.  (It's very common to visit sick people at home.)  We were with the Bishop and his wife, and we found another pastor there.  Soon after we arrived, four more well-wishers from the church arrived, and we crowded into his living room, telling stories, encouraging him and enjoying sodas together.  He seemed a bit tired, but still strong.  We prayed for him before leaving...the impassioned, confident prayer of servants of the living God, asking for healing for another servant of God.  Before we left, he said he was feeling better.  Yet, less than three weeks later, he has died.

Sometimes I feel like I understand a bit of why people die, especially when that person has been chronically ill for a long time.  Often, though, there is a corner of my mind that yells at God "WHY?! We prayed for this man!  He was serving you so faithfully, being Your witness in a needy place, caring for his family.  He was strong and brave and he put it all on the line for You, and yet You let him die."  I despair a bit, and I wonder if healing prayer really has any power at all.

In the midst of my own grief, I remember one of my first friends who died, back in 2004.  Karissa drowned in the Pacific Ocean while on a college retreat, and I was devastated.  She was another person who was so dedicated to living out a remarkable submission to God, and two weeks before her death, I heard her prophesied over that the impact she would have on the world was different than anyone would expect.  Her memorial service packed out George Fox University's auditorium, and after the open mic testimonies, several people came to know Jesus for the first time and many, many others rededicated their lives to continuing a lifestyle of on-the-edge faith.

In the midst of my grief for Karissa, I began to understand a bit of what happens when a child of God dies.  I remember the very spot I was sitting (on a sofa on the ground floor of Underground Coffeehouse) when I realized that at the same time that God was with me in my grief, sad with me, He was rejoicing to have Karissa at home with Him.  That picture of God rejoicing with His "lion" has comforted me in the past few days.  I hope that his death, as tragic and confusing and difficult as it is for all of us left behind, is also inspiring.  I pray that for me, for you, for his friends and family and the members of his church, this is a moment of vision and hope, and maybe, just maybe, Masatu's legacy of faith and love for the people of Mwamalili will materialize in the projects he cared so much about.

Pastor Msiba Masatu - September 2012
Photo by Will Campbell

Thank you, Lord, for sharing your "lion" with us.

What I'm Working On

I have a Word document on my desktop called "Current Projects" which is 3+ pages long.  Some are personal, some are for Lahash, and some of them are extra work--helping Fred or other people on projects I'm excited about.  Here's a random sampling of the list, interspersed with some photos of my distractions:

I finally found a pizza recipe that works for me!  I used the
last of my pepperoni stash on this baby.  It was worth it!

 Update Wesley's baby book. (update=start)

We had a delicious dinner and birthday cake with
the Soards, UMC missionaries in nearby Tarime.

Write children's spiritual development outline for Lahash partners.



Finish partnership team letter. (Are you on our mailing list?  Email me your address ASAP to get the big news being revealed in this month's letter!)



Meet the Blakemans in Shinyanga after Easter.



Clean out email inboxes.


Write grant proposals for "Tea Service" (nutritional tea for HIV+ clients of Shirati Hospital), Mwamalili church reconstruction (a village church which was severely damaged in wind), and Shinyanga Training and Outreach Program (SHINTOP - an evangelism and discipleship school).

Innocent showing me how he is a soldier.

Clean up computer for our electrician.  (Random, I know.)



Write Hope is Alive article for May edition.



Fill out Round Two of Rapid Funding Envelope grant for "Combating Gender Based Violence in Mara Region".  (During Round One application, I learned that 58% of women in our region have suffered some form of physical or sexual abuse.)



Write blog post.  (Check!)

We had breakfast at the Nyakyemas' Shirati home.
Photo by Innocent.

Type field work reports for nursing school students.  (I make about $5 per 20 page report, and the nursing school student who works as my go-between makes about $5 each as well.  Works out okay for both of us.)



Continue working on Innocent's formal adoption.  (Could be he's calling me "Mama" instead of "Auntie" by May, if we're lucky!)

How Wesley Spent His First Birthday

Wesley started the morning with diarrhea, which promptly leaked onto his last clean pajamas.  (Note: first article of clothing changed)  This diarrhea would continue through the day, although it's over now.

Then a tumble down the front steps resulted in a nice face scrape.

It didn't seem to bother him too much once the shock was over, and, strangely, the scrape on his nose was the only mark on him.

Then, at lunch, he poured an entire bowl of water on himself.  I wish I could say this was a unique experience, but the boy is fascinated with water, and we have to lock the kitchen to keep him from drinking dirty dish water (which leads to diarrhea).  His shirt came off at that point to dry. (Note: second article of clothing changed)

After lunch Innocent and Wesley played together in my bedroom while I mixed up a birthday cake, or as Innocent calls it: Wesley's Happy Birthday.  First I made six cupcakes, and while they were baking, I filled a small glass baking pan with the rest of the batter to make the cake.  Then I made my major error: I turned my back to start washing dishes.  Like a ninja, Wesley came from the bedroom, went straight to the table where the cake pan was waiting, and pulled it down on top on himself.  He was not harmed at all...very much the opposite, in fact:

I had to fight my initial urge to shout and yank him out of the mess and cry a little bit.  Instead I thought "I should take a picture."  The benefit of this camera-crazy age is that things are much funnier when you've taken the moment to get out your phone (or grapefruit...Mike Birbiglia fans?) and take a picture.  Please note the batter all over his feet.  He was dipping his hands in the batter and using it to give himself a foot rub.  Innocent helped me remove his shorts with minimal transfer of mess (Third article of clothing changed), and while I bathed Wesley, Innocent mopped the floor like the very good little helper he is.  Fortunately all that excitement plum wore out the birthday boy, so he went down for a nap.  Innocent watched him sleep for a moment and said "Wesley's not a baby anymore, he's a monkey!"  I couldn't have said it better myself.

When he woke up, things were pretty calm for a while, aside from a small incident in which he screamed bloody murder because I took dirt out of his mouth.  Then we had another blowout diarrhea diaper, leading to a change of trousers (fourth article changed) and the combination of smeared dinner and sweat led Daddy to take his shirt off (fifth article of clothing changed).  Thus, when the time came for Wesley's "Happy Birthday", he was sleepy and shirtless.

By the time he was bathed and put to sleep, he was wearing only a onesie, having somehow made filthy the last pair of trousers (sixth article of clothing changed).  They couldn't have gotten that dirty in two hours because my house is dirty, right?  That couldn't possibly be it.

So, all in all, Wesley celebrated his birthday by proving to us that a) he is a boy with all the dirt and bugs and mischief that entails, b) he shouldn't drink dish water, c) he is active and strong and ready to take on the world, and d) almost every surface in our house is within his reach now.  Happy 1st Birthday, little man!

Wesley on the banks of Lake Victoria with the ferry in the background

There and back again

I didn't have a chance to update last week because of my crazy life, but here's what's going on in the Otieno household!

Wesley and Fred on the bus

Last week Wesley and I went to visit our Tanzanian partners, so we were traveling from Sunday until yesterday.  Although Wesley is still a trooper on the long bus rides and sleeping in strange beds and missing Daddy, it has become much harder to travel with him now that he's walking.  He really wants to get down and run around, and when we're on the bus for the eighth consecutive hour, he reaches the end of his long-suffering patience.  Even so, we had a good time seeing a bunch of friends and making some new ones.

"Babu" Bishop teaching Wesley to drive

The first place we went was Shinyanga, the home of Path of Hope, Lahash's newest partner.  Path of Hope is the ministry of the Shinyanga Diocese of the Tanzania Mennonite Church, and is headed by Bishop Joseph and Jeanette Nyakyema.  I think I've talked about them before, but our family feels a particular connection to the Nyakyemas because the Bishop is a Luo (like Fred) and Jeanette is an American (like me).  They married a bit later in life and don't have children of their own, although they care for several of their many nieces and nephews, including Christopher, who is 10 years old.  Wesley has a great time at their home, because they are like grandparents to him and Christopher makes a great playmate.  I also have a great time at their home because I really like the Bishop and Jeanette, and we have very encouraging and enlightening conversations together.  Although they've been serving in the church for several decades, they are still very humble and want more than anything to see the Gospel preached and the church strengthened.  I love our times together.

Wesley looking out the bus window near Dodoma

The next place we went was Dodoma to visit friends at Grace and Healing Ministry, as well as the Angotes.  The time in Dodoma was so brief, but we got to visit the children at the main campus (100 kids) and the children (25 kids) at the expanded chapter out in Ipagala, one of the suburbs of Dodoma.  I met with Edwin a few times, saw his family and their new home, and had a fabulous dinner at Mariam's home.  I tried to encourage Mariam and Olipa, the social workers, and Mama Neema, the accountant, and Pastor Mwita of Ipagala, who volunteers to teach Bible classes for the kids.  Although the time was short, and this was the hardest part of the trip for Wesley, we enjoyed seeing everyone and hearing their comments about Wesley: "Amekuwa!" and "Yeye ni mjaLuo kweli!" and "Anafanana baba yake." and "Mtoto mzuri! Hongera!"  (He has grown!  He is really a Luo! He looks just like his father. and What a nice child! Congratulations!)

Sleeping on the ferry while "Bibi" Jeanette rubs his feet

We left Dodoma early Saturday morning and stopped in Shinyanga again, and even before the bus had stopped, Wesley spotted Bishop and Jeanette and started getting excited.  With them were a missionary couple, the Bontragers, who had spent ten years in Kenya and Tanzania way back, and now they have returned to do Theological Education by Extension (like seminary in a seminar).  They reach out to pastors who are serving their churches although they've never had the benefit of formal training.  To Wesley's delight, Joe looks a bit like my dad, so Wesley got to pretend to have two grandpas (Bishop and Joe) to hang out with.  We got to ride with the Nyakyemas and Bontragers up to Musoma on Sunday, and spend the night at Joe and Gloria's home there.  Then Monday morning the Nyakyemas and I took the ferry across Lake Victoria to a town called Kisesi, where Fred picked us up.

It was a good, but long and hard trip, and this was my main takeaway from it:

Path of Hope Ministry is just starting up their children's programs with very few resources.  Lahash came in to start sponsorship, and we could really use additional donors to support this great organization.  The first group of children we're sponsoring is at a small church in the urban center of Shinyanga called Nguzo Nane.  I got to worship with them on Sunday, and I believe the church is supporting more children than there are members in the church!  Please go to http://lahash.org/work/care/sponsor/ and choose Path of Hope Tanzania as your desired location.  It's only $25 per month, and will really encourage them in their ministry!