Tanzania: Massama and Nguni Dairy Coop, 7/7/2009

Breakfast is the same as it is every day: scrambled eggs and fruit (with the option of some rather strange rubbery crepes and hot dogs). I wonder what they feed the chickens here, as the scrambled eggs come out almost white. Just one of those little mysteries.

After breakfast the team split into several groups in different buses. I was on the Massama bus, which was scheduled to drop of people at a school and an orphanage on the way to Massama Kati (which was the church we visited for the early service on Sunday).

Anne, Amy and I were supposed to meet with the widows, but they didn't show up until around 10:30 (...this is Africa...), so first we spent some time talking with the pastor. He was interested to try to understand what our churches were like, and we were interested to hear the story of his church, which is the oldest and largest in the district.

Then we went into the church, where three seats had been set up in front facing the 'congregation' of women (about 30 of them). We felt a little odd and conspicuous sitting in front, but it would have been more conspicuous to be excessively humble and mess up the way they thought it should go.

We each preached briefly, but were keeping it short intentionally so we would have a chance to minister to them personally, but the pastor didn't quite grasp what we had in mind. First he kept trying to help us out by extending the preaching time, and then when Anne said we wanted to pray for them, he loudly started praying up front while all the ladies prayed under their breath. We finally started going around and laying hands on them. I handed out the bookmarks which seemed to please them -- the pastor was astounded that I had managed to bring bookmarks with Swahili bible verses. He would have been even more astounded if he knew that I had gotten them from a believer in Shanghai.

I forgot to say that they fed us breakfast first -- boiled eggs and peanuts again, with bread and bananas, and fried green plantain. Then we got back on the bus to continue on to Nguni.

In Nguni we were dropped off a the church, and then were driven in the back of the pickup truck to the Nguni Ladies dairy cooperative, a deceptively simple building with an incongruously modern refrigeration unit, to chill the milk. The chairwoman introduced us to all the board members, and read an explanation of the coop, translated by the pastor. They collect milk from 700 families, and get a total of 1,200 litres per day. There are 3 collection locations, to make it more feasible for families to be able to bring their milk.

The pickup truck had a high bed, so it was a little awkward getting in and out. I knew that I wasn't in as good a shape as I thought when a little old lady who looked about 90 tried to give me a boost. Getting off was even more embarrassing -- I thought I was gracefully sitting at the edge and sliding off, but apparently adults simply don't do that. All the ladies wanted to make sure I hadn't gotten my backside dusty, and kindly brushed it off for me. I was beginning to feel like my backside was public property, but it was serving as an icebreaker and bonding experience.

Then back up to the church for lunch, a veritable feast of rice, a thin meat stew, a plantain and meat stew, cooked greens, watermelon, and sliced oranges. I ate the hot food and skipped the rest.

After lunch, I made a short speech in Swahili thanking them:

"Asanteni sana. Tunapenda chocula cha hapa sana sana. Ninakubariki katika jina le yesu."

They were so proud of me they cheered aloud. Then they gave us gifts. We felt awkward to receive presents from them, but knew that it would be rude to refuse. It was such a festive time, with dancing and singing as they unwrapped long pieces of cloth, and proceeded to wrap us up in the local garb. They were in the middle of draping me when the pastor suddenly said "you have a phone call".

I was nonplussed. I didn't even know where I was myself. How would anyone else know I was here? Was someone suddenly going to say "Smile, you're on Candid Camera!". He handed me his cell phone, and it was Brittany, calling to tell me that the pickup time had been changed to 4pm. She asked how it was going, and I said "fine, but they are dressing me, so I have to go", which quite surprised her on the other end of the phone.

They sang a song to us, so I sang 'Bwana Awabariki" for them. How amazing that the internet enabled me to find a worship song in Swahili and learn it before my trip!

Again, they were pleased to get the bookmarks as a small token gift, but we all felt bad that we didn't have anything more significant to give them. Then into the truck to go to the second location. We stood crowded in the back, trying not to trip on the huge bags of rice (which I think they had loaded in specially for us to sit on), but the ladies explained that you got a better view standing, so we joined them. It was exhilarating to ride along as the ladies sang, and proudly pointed out their small homes as we passed.

The second site again had a cooling unit which we had to admire, and then on to the third one, where I told the ladies we needed a lesson in dressing, so they re-draped Anne while we watched. The pastor was enjoying seeing us as learners, so he asked whether we got it. I regaled the women by miming the whole process while counting in Swahili, and they counted along with me and clapped:

Mojo (wrapping around waist), mbili (tying on one hip), tato (tying on the other hip), nne (across shoulders), tano (tossing the endback over shoulder)

It's hard to explain how much fun this day was -- on the schedule it sounded kind of like a dud, but it ended up being a wonderful experience.