In the darkness of night, we were greeted at the airport with a gaggle of strangers presenting us with bouquets of roses. We had no idea what to expect next. We arrived in Tanzania, weary from 19 hours in the air. Having been commissioned by our congregation to serve and learn, we set out on our projects: planting orchards to sustain the poorest of the poor and renovating three rural schools. Slowly, we began to form friendships. The strangers who met us late at night with the roses became friends: a teacher, a college freshman, a mentor, a missionary, a social worker, a deacon, a bus driver.
At a morning prayer service at the Lutheran headquarters, we were surrounded by our hosts who coached us through the Swahili service by holding our prayer books and pointing at the words to the songs. Their singing bathed us with hope. Then the pastor in the crisp white robe and green liturgical stole lifted the bread and poured the wine. Finally, a language I understood: Jesus lived and died and rose again for all people of this earth that we might taste new life. Bwana Isifewe – Praise the Lord. When he placed the wafer in my palms, I knew that we were one body of Christ, rather than strangers from drastically different continents.
One day, we visited a school with over 1000 students aged 6 to 14. The boys single file on the left, rhythmically pounding sticks. The girls in a parallel line, dressed in khaki skirts with fraying hems. Feet stomping accompanied the Maasai tribal call-and-response songs. I didn’t comprehend a single word, yet the buoyant, deep choruses wrapped around my soul. (Listen here if you wish). Our whole Kansas City delegation was stunned by the welcome offered at this very dusty and extremely remote school. I tried to disguise my tears of joy, but there was no need as half my team was also weeping. And after all, this is why we came to Tanzania: to have our hearts melted by the beauty of those who, out of poverty, still have astounding love.
Grace and Peace,
Carla
