A day is like a week

Matema Beach - by Lake Nyasa

Matema seems to be a magical place. One day there and I feel I have been there a whole week soaking up its beauty, letting the early morning mistyness over the mountains refresh my soul as I sit there having my quiet time and watching the sun rising over the peaks, swimming in the fresh waters of the lake or feeling the sun warm me through as I lie on the beach with a book. That all sounds very romanticised – I’ll put it down to reading Anne of Green Gables! However, it truly is a beautiful spot. The ride there wasn’t quite so enjoyable, but so long as you could ignore the discomfort of sitting on the narrow uncomfy seats of a rattly daladala, it was a pleasant, if rather long journey, made all the more pleasurable by good company – the Wisbeys together with Matt’s family who are visiting (see picture). On the way back from our trip we visited the Bridge of God – a remarkable natural structure (see picture).
This all came after holding a follow-up workshop for Sunday School teachers in a town down towards the lake. The feedback was really encouraging from the few teachers that came – it seems that they have really tried to use some of the things that they learned in the earlier training they received, and that it’s producing results – such as the children understanding better and more children coming.
On arrival back in Mbeya we were confronted with the kind of issue that you might think we face regularly living in Africa, but which we actually face very rarely in our daily lives – the guard at the Wisbey’s compound had sent his baby to a witch doctor because it was ill. I won’t go into detail as it would make a whole blog on its own, suffice to say, this episode, coupled with hearing about the reality of withcraft from a Christian lady working with street children, all in the same week, has aroused fresh awareness of the spiritual battle that we face.
On a happier note – the rest of the day finished off in a fun way as I joined Karin briefly for her birthday ‘party’ and then went out for a Chinese (can you believe we have a Chinese restaurant here?!!)

Sing!

One thing Tanzanians know how to do is sing (and dance – can’t have one without the other)! We recently held a two-day workshop to train Sunday School Teachers in one of the language areas where we work. One of the highlights of that workshop for me was hearing them sing in their mother tongue, with obvious joy on their faces. Being in that place reminded me once again of the importance of our work – that of Bible Translation. Often I find myself teaching in places where people from a variety of language groups live, so Swahili is heard more often than not, instead of their mother tongues. However, in this particular village, they all belong to the same people group, and lunchtime conversation was nearly all in their mother tongue. I so wished that, instead of just encouraging them to teach the children in their mother tongue, I could have actually given them Bible story books to use or Scripture itself in their language. Please pray for this work!

1) The beautiful location for the workshop 2) A carpenter at work in the village

3) Liz teaching the Sunday School Teachers

Worlds apart

From coast to coast...
...from England to Tanzania...
...two beautiful countries, but worlds apart…

I’m home, that means I am back in Tanzania, and it’s that same feeling once again...that the last two months never happened. Tanzania is worlds apart from England. There seems to be nothing which connects the two lives. It’s a strange feeling. It leaves an uncomfortable sense of disconnectedness in relationships. When I was in England I seemed able to pick up my friendships so easily and naturally, but now I am back it’s almost hard to believe that England exists and those people continue with their every day lives. I love them dearly and I miss them and yet at the same time it’s not as painful as I expected because they’re somehow part of a different life, another world. I think it’s always harder for those left behind. A shame we can’t take our friends with us everywhere and share the experiences together, so that this strange disconnectedness is removed.
That leads me onto another thought…how missionary life is one of constant transition, constant comings and goings – either yourself or your friends never seem to be in one place for very long. It’s one of the hardest things about life here. Every new place we go we have to start again, making new friendships, or if we remain behind as close friends go on, new relationships need to be formed to fill the void. As people come into our lives at different stages they only ever get to know a part of us, unless you make the effort to dig deeper and are willing to make yourself vulnerable. But then comes the pain once again of making a deep friendship, only to have to say goodbye after a year or two. It’s hard to do that over and over again and I think it is particularly hard for singles who face these changes alone.
Anyhow, back to my return to Tanzania… arriving did feel very much like ‘coming home’, which was a relief! I wasn’t sure how it would be, after my trip to England ended up being twice as long as I’d planned. Unfortunately there is one thing from England that has travelled with me – the scar on my arm. Every time I take off my pressure garment I wince in pain – both physical and emotional, as the ugly red patch of skin is revealed. The thought of wearing these things on my arm for two more years is not a nice one (even though they really don’t look that bad – they just make my arm look very small!)
I had a lovely time with friends and family in England, despite my accident, and I am thankful to God for those special shared moments we had. I am also thankful to be back amongst my close friends here, and hope that whatever happens in the future, I will still be able to invest in the friendships I have right now, trusting that God will provide for my relational needs (as He promises to do – Mat. 19:29) when and if they or I leave.