Journey with Africa

The remaining days

2010-03-29T23:12:00.007-04:00

My flight from Maputo to Nairobi, Kenya was quiet. I watched the documentary on the making of Paul Simon's Graceland twice through. I enjoyed the music and it kept certain realities before me. A few of his statements in this documentary touched my thinking..."make a powerful statement gently"...."culture can't be owned by an individual but it can be shared by all". And when questioned about the outrage his album and tour caused in South Africa, he responded, "I'll tell you about feelings by writing a song from my own heart, not from their heart." In response to further criticism of raising music from within the Apartheid ghettos, he responded, "This is not about the incredible evil that is, but the incredible beauty and gifts that are for the world." Good perspectives for me to use for my ongoing reflections.

Morning came early and the flight into Entebbe was lovely over the Kenyan landscape and over Lake Victoria. I got connected to a young man for the ride to Kampala. Gary was my son's age and spoke English very well. I sat in the front of the taxi and we talked the whole hour into the city. He shared his story of having to leave school because the economic crisis hit the cost of living and took the little savings he had just to survive. He is now driving taxi trying desperately to find a way to continue his computer studies.

After a stop at an internet cafe to check for those elusive confirmations of a meeting I was hoping for tomorrow, I was delivered safe and sound at my son's place once again. The rest of the afternoon I unpacked and rested. I was nice to see my son again but I was acutely aware that I was a different person now than when I left him nearly 2 weeks ago.

The next days were spent writing my blogs and spending time with my son. It was his birthday on Saturday and we went to the Animal Rescue compound in Entebbe. It was a nice time looking at giraffes and zebras and monkeys and birds of all sorts. It was very warm though and I think my tiredness was catching up. We were going to go to the Botanical gardens as well but opted for a nice little outdoor restaurant instead. And I finally got my Boda-Boda ride - a whole 15 mins on a very slow road. I was out of memory card space on my camera so no proof of that!!

That night we met up with Richardson again for supper (my son's research assistant). It was nice to see him again and I sure do wish him well with his future. Such a nice young man.

Sunday was a trip to the Ugandan museum. Fascinating displays and it covered both the ancient civilizations as well as tribal history and artifacts. Going to a museum with a history buff is always interesting!!

Before I knew it was time to finish packing and think about my long flights back to Canada. I called up Gary the young taxi driver to take me back to Entebbe Airport. Saying good-bye to my son was challenging for I won't see him again till Christmas in all likelihood. There was much for him to do yet here in Uganda and I prayed that all will go well for him and with him. A mother always worries.

The ride back was interesting as well with Gary. This time he asked me questions about Tanzania and Mozambique. Then he talked about the upcoming elections and how that impacts people in different villages depending on majority government presence in the village. Once again the reality of fear among these people was evident.

My flight departed a little late which made for a long wait in the boarding area. We boarded just after midnight. I slept sporadically. We arrived in Amsterdam around 7:30 local time (10:30 Ugandan time). I had a long wait for the Canada bound flight so I found an internet cafe and settled in for 4 hours of reflection and writing. That was useful time.

The trans-atlantic flight was smooth and comfortable - I had opted for the sized up seats that give you much more leg room. I also found out that it was generally much quieter, at least this time. It was pleasant and I enjoyed seeing the ice on the ocean as we neared Labrador. Our flight path took us over the north edges of the St. Lawrence and onward past Ottawa to Toronto. I was greeted by family complete with flowers - seems to have become a tradition for when I travel like this. Good to be loved and good to be home.

Thank you for journeying with me on this pilgrimage of the heart, soul and mind. May you be blessed and encouraged to respond to your call to reach towards the wonderful people of this world, no matter where they live or how they live.

Blessings
Tiina

Wednesday, March 10th

2010-03-29T22:05:00.010-04:00

Once again I woke to hear the sounds of the children gathering. I tried to let that experience burrow into my consciousness. I finished packing, had some breakfast, used the computer to check flight information and my emails. I was still waiting for confirmation about meeting with the Women's organization in Uganda. It was somewhat surreal.

I also made some quick notes for the Pastors' meeting which was going to be held this morning on Pastor Bene's request. It was strange to move my big suitcase into the truck.

When we arrived some of the Pastors were already present. We ended up holding the meeting a little earlier than we thought. Fausta Cipriano Delgada joined us - she is the head of the CCM. Representing the Methodist Church was Pastor Isaias; the Anglican church was Pastor Eugenio; The Presbyterian Church, Pastor Pirilau; the United Baptist Church, Pastor Duorte; and representing the Church of the Nazarene was Pastor Chorlos. Pastor Bene chaired the meeting which started with prayer and a hymn.

There was a formality to this. The Pastors asked what I had seen on my journey. I asked Bill who was translating for me again if the Pastors were aware of the places we had been. He said yes so I then responded with more philosophical response. I heard laughter above the pain; the silence of the land at rest; I saw courage and passion and leadership; I heard a prophet and saw efforts to build the kingdom of God.

Not sure how that resonated. Later Bill indicated that I was quite philosophical. That's not the first time I've heard that about my reflections.

However, I also asked the Pastors what they hoped that I would see. That brought more lively conversation to the table. One commented that "with knowledge you can free yourself from slavery of all kinds". Another mentioned the war they wage against AIDS, droughts and floods. A third focused on the need for Bible translations into the local dialects. The need for new liturgical resources and training and support of Pastors brought much energy from the participants. Pastor Bene spoke of the need for long term training of pastors to position them to engage their communities of faith with the lives of the people and the government. Many of the village and town Pastors have only Grade 7 education which makes it difficult to teach and mobilize these servants in new and creative ways. He lifted up the need to train the laity to be more fully equipped for their ministry with the church. All pointed to the desire for a long term relationship to develop the capacity of all their leaders within the framework of the CCM. Pastor Bene also mentioned his desire to see the medicinal plants project which is now virtually sustainable to be developed in those most needy areas of the country. That certainly resonated with my feelings yesterday.

The PEDRA girls brought out their cake and some drinks while the we chatted informally. When we finished that, I went to change for my flight while Karen and Bill had some work to get done before taking me to the airport. The Pastors stayed on for their own meeting and I had a chance to say good bye to Pastor Bene after that.

While I used Bill's office to recharge my phone and camera equipment, he took me into the recording studio where the musicians were finishing the tracks for a new video and a small choir was waiting to record a CD. The importance of this music/video ministry was now profound. What regard I have for this young generation that is doing so much to change the circumstances of living in their country. I am honoured to have met all of them. I thank God for them.

Soon it was time for the ride to the airport and check-in. Karen and Bill sat with me till noon. I would be boarding soon and they had much work to do back at the office. We said our goodbyes for now, knowing that we will see each other again in the fall when they return to Canada for their home assignments. It made it easier to say thanks and see ya!!

The long series of flights to Uganda began. I left Quelimane for Maputo with a stop in the eastern city of Tete first. I was still emotionally numb. Once I arrived in Maputo I had a long wait for my flight to Nairobi, Kenya via Harare, Zimbabwe. I found an outdoor restaurant overlooking the airstrip. I began to journal and with the journalling came the tears. I had many hours to let things surface, to look at them again and to begin to make some sense of my experience and their impact on my spirit. I was ultimately very thankful for this quiet time alone with the strong land of Mozambique still before my eyes and the strength of it people in my heart.

Tuesday afternoon, March 9th

2010-03-29T12:33:00.028-04:00

After a quick trip home for some lunch and a clean-up, we were back again to the CCM offices to prepare for the next visit. This time a slightly older young adult by the name of Borges was the lead in a food supplementation program for HIV/AIDS patients in the barrio. If you have read my other entries, you may recall the importance of good nutrition when starting anti-viral drugs. The people we were to meet were truly the poorest of the poor. Food and clean water was scarce, never mind nutritional food. I don't know the name of the barrio we were to visit - someone casually said that this is the end of the line for those who have had to flee discrimination or expulsion from families. I didn't know what to expect. My mind and heart were very tender from the experiences over the last few days. I was quiet, somehow deeply aware that I was to walk into something that I really needed to walk into.

Borges had prepared matters well. Each of the people we were to visit had been asked if it was alright that others would come along. I am sure that he explained to them Karen's role and my presence. Some had said no, not wishing to draw any more attention to themselves within even this community.

We found the first home and got out of the car. There, laying on a mat, was a women in her early twenties though she looked much, much older. Her son was by her side and her mother was there to help. As she struggled to raise her head but could not, my pastoral skills kicked in - detach emotionally and focus on the most immediate need of the person. I handed my camera off to one of the other young men - it was time to be fully present in this space, not take pictures. All I could do was to maintain eye contact her when possible and somehow convey to her that she was not alone. Borges turned out to excel in pastoral skills - his voice was calm and reassuring, his gestures and attitude conveyed respect and dignity to the person and there wasn't an ounce of judgment about her circumstances. He checked in with her about her most immediate state of health. He shared her circumstances with us and her basic challenges. Like most HIV women, they are without partners and left to care for the children on their own. This woman was fortunate to have her mother come from their village to help as she could. When the food arrived, Borges explained to the mother the need to make her daughter eat to minimize the effects of the medicine. There was a sense of gratitude. I also pray that there was a sense of hope for them.

This next case challenged us all. This woman and her two children and mother had been robbed of absolutely everything they owned - clothes, pots, food and even the prescription for her anti-viral drugs. The grandmother herself was badly crippled. Neither child went to school. Their home showed signs of considerable deterioration and they were having problems with rats at night. Earlier that day, neighbours had pity on them and had brought a bowl and people poured in a little bit of rice as they could. But no charcoal for cooking or nothing to cook in.

The strain showed in Borges face. The disbelief was evident in all our faces. Two thoughts went through my mind, both of which felt like they would erupt in rage. The first I believe was common to us all in that circle - how could anyone take such advantage of the disadvantaged!?
It took a few moments for the answer to arise through another question: what desperation was that person experiencing that would cause such behaviour towards a fellow human being. Perhaps I'm naive.

The second question that raged through my mind came about because of my experiences with the women at the Medi-Plantas project. Perhaps without that experience I would have simply wallowed in the horridness of these circumstances. But I saw what a difference could be made through the medicinal plants and consistent support and education. It is a proven difference. No amount of money should prevent the development of that project in every corner of this country. I rage even now, the only difference being that I rage to others whereas then I kept the turbulent feelings silent.

The next woman was far less incapacitated. Her and her son lived in a rental home that was falling apart. There was little to cook with and no food. Yet she was mobile and in relatively good health at the moment. She was anxious to work and take her son out of these circumstances while she had relative health. Her determination reminded me of the women in Molumbo.

Back in the truck, drive through this maze of roads and pull up for the next people. The house before us was large and well built. The husband who had done the work died leaving the wife at home and unable to care for herself. She had a daughter who lived reasonably near but the daughter refused to help her. Interestingly that same daughter came into the house as we talked with this women (you can see her legs in the corner in this picture). I think we all got the sense that this daughter was likely to take half the food we were going to give to the mother. Borges did not confront the daughter and I was unaware if something was said quietly that did not get translated to me.
Borges remained calm and engaging of the woman herself.

A little further around a corner was another woman on her mat. She is an older teenager. She has a son and most uncommonly, her husband who himself is 16 has decided to stay with them. Because of my Canadian context and our ability to seek out support services for the caregivers themselves, I wondered who this young man turned to with the problems before him. It was interesting to see how Borges responded to the young man and drew him into the sphere of dignity that he developed with all of these people. It was to this young man that Borges explained the need for nutritional support and encouraged him. It was nice to experience the laughter in this space.
The next young woman was HIV positive but was more concerned about her baby who was also HIV positive. The medical system teaches the mothers who have AIDS to not breastfeed their children after the first few months. The longer the child is breastfed, the higher the risk of infection. But what is a mother to do when there is little food or clean water? Early intervention and support seems so easy to say, but with many, many children infected early to mothers who have been abandoned or forced to leave their communities of support only to be left to fend for themselves, how easy is this to do?
When we went to the next site we met 3 women who had become a small network of support for each other. This excited all of us for we know how the quality of life increases when you have friends to be there for you. I saw in them that look I met in the Medi-Plantas program. Karen quickly began to talk to them about the importance of what they were doing. She mentioned the other more mobile and independent woman we had met earlier and suggested that maybe she could be part of the group. They seemed to suggest that woman was indeed on that got these others together. How wonderful to witness this! Karen and Borges talked to them about the Medi-Plantas women and the PEDRA success of doing things together. Karen explained to them that the PEDRA t-shirts could help their visibility in this neighbourhood and maybe others would like to join their group. The women seemed to react positively to these thoughts.How positive was all that!
The woman in the middle picture lived a little bit down the road and she insisted to Borges that we come to her house to see how she lived. She was fiercely independent and proud of it. The house was orderly, the laundry was drying and her smile would melt you. I prayed that life will give her a chance for she seemed poised for something.
This was such a positive experience and reinforced for me that notion of trying to start a Medi-Plantas project here for there was already a potential team of women who could be educated and helped to start. I did however, keep that notion to myself at this point.

We had one more visit and delivery to do. Around the back of a modest home was a women sitting on her mat while her sons were grinding the corn into flour. Her husband paced around the yard and finally sat a distance away where he could observe things but not be part of the conversation. This woman's sister also had AIDS and had recently deteriorated. Seeing that obviously made this woman very sad and afraid for herself. She also seemed nervous with her husband sitting there and watching us. Borges did a good job of repositioning himself to block the view of the husband in order to create a safer space. He truly has been remarkable in his ability to read and react to every situation we walked into.

This afternoon was exhausting. On the way back to the CCM office, Borges asked if we could take a bit of time to have some feedback from me. My mind and heart were still swirling but I agreed. After a short break we met in the PEDRA room under the fans which I was most grateful for. A cold drink refreshed me and I turned my thoughts to what I was going to reflect back to these young men and the ministry they have taken upon themselves.

I hope I gave them some useful feedback. I know I praised their abilities in setting up the programs with the local leaders. I hope I conveyed my utmost respect for Borges and his skills with the people he was working with. I do also know that something I said or how it was heard made Borges defensive. I had tried to explain how I approach these challenges in Canada with the range of options and support services available to us. A multi-disciplinary approach is feasible; therefore I think of support for caregivers, food protection measures, transportation options etc. Somehow it seemed that he heard that as a judgment of their work that fell short of my measuring stick. When I realized this misunderstanding, I tried to correct it but i could tell from his eyes that he was left a little deflated. I so regret that for his work was outstanding in his context of options.

After this session, we were all tired. Time to go back to Karen and Bill's home and have a quiet evening. After a brief time on their lovely porch full of plants, the mosquitoes started to invade. We moved inside and talked through supper about the last days and particularly today. Bill and Karen were offering us all a chance to debrief from the intensity. My emotions were still largely locked up and the conversation was more from my head rather than my heart. It was however nice to talk about the Mozambican context while acknowledging our Canadian context as an affecting worldview. The darkness came soon and it was time for my last sleep in Mozambique.

I leave this day with a picture of the PEDRA girls making a cake for tomorrow's goodbye. They had started the pan cake in the oven in their meeting room but then the electricity went out. Being brilliantly resourceful girls, they quickly made a fire in the courtyard of the office complex and continued to bake the cake there. I understand there were more challenges but I can say the cake turned out delicious!

Tuesday morning, March 9th

2010-03-28T22:44:00.030-04:00

I awoke to the sounds of laughter and play in the school yard next door. It was a delightful sound which reminded me again why the land feels at rest and whom it longs to nourish. Before I got too emotionally reconnected to the events and conversations of the last 3 days, my alarm went off. It was time to get ready quickly - we had a very busy day again. A quick breakfast and we were off to the CCM office in Quelimane.

This morning I would be accompanying a team of young adults to Marabo which is a barrio outside of Quelimane in the swampy lands close to the ocean. These young adults participated in a training program that Bill developed some years ago. The goal of the training program was to give the necessary skills and perspectives on the development of community outreach programs. They learned issues such as visioning, concept development, budgeting, accountability, and community relations. During the program, the participants developed and undertook some small projects in order to debrief them collectively.

Since that training, there was funding found for a position to develop more such projects. Three of the young men decided to time share that position and thus a team was developed. One takes the lead for one project, the other 2 assist. On another project, a different leader and different assistants. This morning Balmero had designed and taken the lead on the distribution of mosquito nets in local barrios.

With the truck loaded up, Karen and I joined the team and Jack in the journey to Marabo. Once off the main road we needed to travel through the fields to get to the barrio. Soon we approached what look like a village on a travel brochure. How looks can deceive! Here was a forgotten place, unknown to some locals as well. Like so many areas of deep poverty, Marabo has to deal with high rates of malaria which remains the number one health problem in the country and the single largest killer of infants.

In preparation for today's delivery, Balmero (on the left) had developed a relationship with the Secretary of the barrio (middle) as well as Parent Council representatives (right). There were 80 mosquito nets that would be distributed. It was the local leaders that were going to decide which people were going to receive the nets. Generally, the priority people are orphaned children , pregnant mothers, those with disabilities, and the elderly.

When we stopped the truck and got out, the children gathered quickly. Once again my camera helped break down the shyness. But also quickly it was time to begin the distribution of the nets. The villagers had already begun to gather and Balmero was preparing for the recording of the necessary documents. How patiently everyone waited for their name to be called out. When it was, they had to sign for the net. I was so impressed at how smoothly everything had gone. Even though there were people in the barrio who had not received a mosquito net and were obviously upset over that, the Secretary of the Barrio was able to handle the situation very well.
When all the people had received their nets and had gathered for the demonstration, Balmero indicated a desire for me to speak to the people. I was from Canada and a United Church minister and these nets came through the generousity of the people in London Conference of The United Church of Canada. I had nothing to do with this wonderful gift of mosquito nets, but I was there before them. Once again, I was uncomfortable in the role. But then Karen gave me a new perspective that really challenged my self understanding. She reminded me again that the people in this area of Mozambique rarely have visitors from around the world. This was about their thoughts and feelings both of which were touched and amazed that someone has cared enough about them to come half way around the world to listen to them and help them. This statement jolted me into a new reality. They do not see my remorse for the history I too carry. They do not see my inherent wealth. They see that I cared enough to come to them which is all my heart ever wants to do. I almost lost it in that moment. I have no recollection of what I said but I remember clearly one elderly woman passionately thanking me for coming and bringing these nets for the barrio. Again I was humbled, this time by the realization of how much 'baggage' I have carried when I travel; bags of apologetics over a past that granted me privilege in this world of inequality. But for the first time I was aware that my intentions and love far outweighed that baggage. This was a hard moment of a new truth that was also profoundly liberating.

On our way back to the truck we stopped in the school to say hello to the teacher and his students. One complication in the education system in Mozambique is that Portuguese is not the first language of many students, particularly in the villages. There they maintain their local dialects yet education is only offered in Portuguese. When children start elementary school, often it takes longer since the children need to learn Portuguese. This puts them immediately behind academically. If I understood correctly, one very positive element of their education system is that teachers are sent to villages other than their own upon graduation. The philosophy of this strategy is to break down village or tribal based relationships and understandings and promote tolerance and communication between all the different components of the society. We did not stay long so as not to disturb their studies. I longed to be able to speak with them like Karen did. Common language is indeed precious for relationship building.

On our way out of Balmero, we stopped at a roadside market. Karen bought some different vegetables and fruit. The young men bought various things that I understood that they will sell later in the city for a small profit. The ride back to the CCM office was good as the young men obviously felt that the project had gone very well. I was pleased for them. It was a good testament to the training program that they had gone through with Bill.

Monday, March 8th

2010-03-25T12:38:00.041-04:00

It was an early rise again and I had time to go out for a little stroll by myself before breakfast. I had noticed over the days of journey, a number of empty, scarred colonial type buildings. I was told that these were the jails used by the Portuguese during the very long and particularly cruel colonial period. This is the building across the road from the Clinic.

I am particularly careful to talk about a history that I barely know. My son's study of Ugandan history has sensitized me to the necessity to learn deeply the history of a people from the perspectives of the oppressed and not only the victors or the power brokers. Since I have not yet done that kind of reading on the history of Mozambique I only can offer what seems to be a common perception that colonialism was different in this country and other Portuguese colonies, different from the French and English colonies. The primary reasons seem to stem from the fact that Portugal was the first to colonize Africa in the mid-1400's. In addition to the long term cruel effects of a major slave export to the wealthy in Europe and prolific resource extraction, Portugal carried a dream of ruling Africa forever. This experiment was tested in Angola and Mozambique. The 1951 Portuguese constitution officially made Portugal an “Afro-European” power. As a result, Angola and Mozambique became Portuguese “provinces". Walter Rodney summarizes Portuguese colonial rule in Africa in very few words. “The Portuguese stand out because they boasted the most and did the least.” Angola remained a Portuguese colony for about 500 years, but after independence, all this country could show for was a bloody civil war. “After close to half a thousand years,” says Rodney, “not a single medical doctor had been trained in Portuguese Mozambique.” (Walter Rodney, born in Guyana was known for setting then new standards in his 1970 PhD Thesis for the development of history from the perspectives of the oppressed.)

The post WWII anti-colonial movements became organized with vigor in the early 1960's and independence was gained on June 25, 1975. Portuguese population's rapid exodus left the Mozambican economy in disarray and the eruption of the Mozambican civil war (1977-1992) destroyed much of the remaining wealth. An estimated 1 million Mozambicans perished during the civil war, 1.7 million took refuge in neighboring states, and several million more were internally displaced. This is one of many monuments that dot the rural landscape in memory of the huge number of people who were killed in these struggles. A series of democratic, multi-party elections have been held successfully since 1994 as the country begins to rebuild itself against so many odds. Mozambique remains one of the 10 poorest countries in the world. Combating the complex web of poverty and just development is seriously complicated by the climatic and geographical conditions of the land

My stroll alone allowed me to go through the exercise of trying to feel this land upon which I stood. Bare feet on warm earth works wonders. It was in this moment of meditation that I came to sense the gentleness and tiredness of this land as if it was simply trying to breathe, free of its horrid past; not in the sense of forgetting the past, but taking the blood that was spilled into the soil and hoping and offering it to once again to nourish its people. This was a sensory experience for me and has taken some time to put some tentative words around it. Hope it makes sense to some of you.

Within this peaceful time, I was called to breakfast which had been running a little late. We all gathered but certainly Bill and Pastor Manteiga were focused on their work ahead - Pastor Manteiga had arranged with some of the people that have been helped through the Medi-Plantas program to be interviewed and videotaped for the documentary that Bill was working on. This documentary will supplement the educational resources already produced around this vital and unique health ministry. Already, interviews with Pastor Manteiga are played on national radio and CCM through Bill has produced 36 - 20 minute videos of the various partners, doctors, aides etc involved in Medi-Plantas. The next challenge is to produce these educational resources in the local dialects to increase their effectiveness. As we ate, people were beginning to arrive and breakfast happened fairly quickly.

As Bill and Karen and Pastor Manteiga gathered with the people on the front porch, I finally found my opportunity to invite Pastor Bene into a conversation. We walked under the fruit trees in the side yard to get some shade and talked for a while. I am often bold and direct in these conversations. I sense I was bold but also confusing in this particular conversation. All my contemplations of the right questions to focus on seemed to have disappeared with the emotional conversation last night after dinner. Nonetheless, Pastor Bene was forthright when my questions finally got clearer. He offered a very intriguing interpretation and image for our conversation. In the story of Moses (Exodus 3-4) there is a time when Moses is trying to get out of what God is asking him to do. He argues that no-one will listen or believe him, to which God directs Moses' attention to the simple staff in his hand. Through the very simple item Moses held, God performed wonders. Pastor Bene claimed that all of us have something in our hand, something that we have been given to work with and we only need to have enough faith to know that God will perform wonders with even the simple thing we hold - we just have to use it!! That resonated within our conversation. It was an authentic dialogue and one that pushed aside what I previously sensed as the formality between us. I am deeply thankful for that.

I was beckoned once again to come and meet the people that had just been interviewed. They were wanting to meet me and had indicated that they would like to try and answer any questions that I might have of them. Was that a moment of humility for me! I don't know what I thought I would walk into, but the power of spirit that filled that space was remarkable. There were a couple of older women that were full of life and feisty as I would call one with a glint in their eyes and a fierce determination in their voice. Defiantly throwing off the stigmatization that comes from families and communities when one becomes infected by HIV, these women totally inspired me - resiliency oozed through their laughter , and confidence oozed in their posture. These older women were such good role models for the younger ones. They have developed into a strong network of people living with AIDS. They knew each others stories and challenges - they supported, showed compassion and laughed together. It never ceases to amaze me what miracles can happen when we work together in supportive and caring ways!! I have no doubts that with the continued support of their medicinal gardens and the care of Pastor Manteiga, these women will beat whatever comes their way!

I asked them a simple question, "What would you imagine your life would be like today if you had not become involved in the Medi-Plantas project?" Almost with one breath and one voice, most responded "Morda - Dead!" There was no follow-up question on my lips as I fought back tears. The outspoken women quickly began to explain their particular circumstances that led to that statement. I do not remember those explanations - I only remember the profoundness of the collective truth of their living. It was in this moment I experienced Christ the healer very present - embodied in the total dedication of Pastor Manteiga and given further life in these women who squarely faced the world and its challenges. Both are healers.

Before I knew it, we were piling into the truck once again - it seemed that some of the women wanted to show us where they lived and how well their medicinal and nutritional crops were doing. Their excitement was palpable!! After a short drive from the clinic and down a narrow lane way, we pulled in as far as we could with the truck and then walked to the first woman's house. Her family - mother and children - were certainly somewhat curious about our group. First she showed us the medicinal plants that grew next to her house. We walked a little further into the wonderful garden full of vegetables. What delight she had to show us how her newly planted beans had sprouted and we beginning to grow. Her friend seemed to be just as proud of her garden. This magnificent mountain outcrop seemed to provide the perfect backdrop to the strength of these 2 women - what beauty to behold in the rock and their spirits!

Back into the truck, little ways back and then off onto another lane way. Drive as far as a 4 wheel truck can take you, get out and walk again through a maze of pathways. About 20 minutes later we arrived at the second woman's house. It was suffering from water damage, something that happens a great deal when the homeowner cannot afford either the plastic lining under the thatch rook or a galvanized steel roof. Yet beside her broken home, the garden is tended well and her medicinal plants yielded in abundance.

Most villagers cannot afford either the plastic or certainly the steel roof, so the cycle of building, wash-outs and rebuilding happens with regularity. Most often living on their own, HIV women have few options to fix their homes. In fact, providing adequate roofing was seen by Pastor Manteiga as one of the greatest needs in the provision of care to the HIV/AIDS people. He talked about his dream to have a partnership develop between the infected individual, their family, the local church, CCM and global partners - the basic house would be constructed by the local people but the precious steel roof would come from the CCM/global partners. Providing this kind of secure housing is a basic human need and right. Pastor Bene affirmed this direction but noted how the local churches need the leadership to develop outreach ministry of this kind. The small village churches mostly exist as pastoral and worship centres. Community based ministry has not yet been intentionally developed as a living out of faith. To begin such a process within a partnership of this kind would enlargen the role of the church and increase the security of the people.

On our 20 minute walk back to where we left the truck I was imagining what this journey would have been like when she was first sick and having to get out to the clinic in order to go to the hospital for blood work and prescription for the anti-viral drug. And now, with baby on her back as all African women do, and a hoe in her hand, she laboured in her field keeping herself and her baby alive! I breathed a quiet thanks for the part that people back in Canada have played in bringing hope into this real life drama through their Mission and Service offering.

On our third stop we visited a man who had just started growing tobacco as a way to make a small income. His medicinal and nutritional gardens again were well attended and his house very well built with not only plastic under the thatched roof but also at the foundation level. He is so proud of what he is able to accomplish despite his AIDS. My heart celebrated with him in that moment!

It was such an uplifting time visiting these people and their homes and gardens! But now we needed to really hurry for we were expected by the Bursary Girls for lunch. At the clinic we quickly packed our things in the truck (including my chicken, though I didn't believe them at the time). Karen was concerned about the timing for some of the Bursary Girls would be needing to get to afternoon classes and she knew that they would wait for their lunch until we the guests had arrived.

A relatively short drive from the clinic, was the LAR (dormitory/residence) site for the older Bursary Girls. As mentioned before, the rural schools do not offer higher grades for the students. They have to move to a larger centre like Molumbo to do that, leaving their family and needing money to do that. According to a report written Karen, this LAR started with 12 girls sleeping on a dirt floor in a hut. It was run by a group of local women who call themselves AMER (Portuguese acronym for Women's Association for Rural Education), each contributing whatever small amount each personally can. PEDRA came in and helped organize the parents to help with food and construction of better facilities. The government donated land and the abandoned army barrack where the girls now sleep. PEDRA put in doors and windows.

The parents banded together to fix the roof when it blew loose in a windstorm. They built a dining room / study room with their handmade bricks, an open-walled kitchen, a store-room for food and bicycles, and a reed-and-bamboo fence around the compound to give the girls privacy - all with their volunteer labour and local materials.

Newly united, organized, articulate, the parents with help from CCM then lobbied the district ministry of education, who came to recognize the PEDRA LAR as a magnet for girls' education in the district. They lobbied the local Catholic priests, and now in a formerly empty Catholic schoolroom there are classes to Grade 10.

Despite being late, the girls came running out to greet us with song and dance. This time, there was a speech that was written and delivered about women and all that they are in society. At one point, the young lady who was delivering the speech called for a minute's silence to remember all those women who have died in the struggle. They gave me the speech and I hope to have it translated from Portuguese in order to grasp the fullness of that offering.

Some of the young ladies then took Pastor Bene and myself through their dormitory. Notable were the colourful mosquito nets and the solar lights that hung in the upper reaches of the large rooms. The installation of these lights have made a major difference in the study time available to the girls in the evening.

We were also shown the new latrine that is nearly finished. This two stall latrine is replacing the one you see on the left. This is one way of stabilizing the health issues that can confront the students. The other was the installation of a deeper well to provide clean drinking water. The improved services have made the dormitory life much safer. Construction has started on another building that can serve as additional bedrooms or workspaces. They await further funding to complete this building.

After the tour of this important LAR, we sat down for some lunch. Karen was busy having to get through some administrative work and then it was time to say good-bye and load up in the truck for a very long drive back to Quilimane.

The ride home provided an opportunity for a great deal of nourishing conversation despite the bouncing that increased because of the deteriorated condition of the roads in some areas. There had been substantial local rain in the past days - that rainfall had enlarged potholes and made portions of roads impassable. Once again Jack proved to be a skilled driver, taking us onto side paths if necessary to bypass these challenges. We arrived safely back at Karen and Bill's home. It was only then I a realized that my chicken had indeed come home with us!

Exhausted by the multitude of experiences, stories of hopes and realities, sharing of church life in respective countries, conversations about partnerships and simply by the long ride back, I barely unpacked and went to bed.

Sunday, March 7th, afternoon and evening

2010-03-24T15:26:00.029-04:00

The road uphill became noticeably more bumpy and I found it easier to hang on to the the side of the truck and enjoy the wind in my face (too bad it didn't occur to me to put sunscreen on that arm!). I was able to more fully take in the sights, sounds and smells of the countryside that passed alongside. Crops changed a little and a few more places seemed to be growing tobacco (shown here on the drying racks). With the construction of a tobacco processing plant further to the south in Mozambique, tobacco was poised to become a cash crop of some importance for the economics of the region. The drought seemed to affect that crop less than the maize.

Village life remained simple as we drove through. Bicycles and washbasins were in abundance. Bicycles are the primary mode of transportation in Mozambique, easing the burden of carrying things on heads. Often a bicycle became like a beast of burden with a large and heavy load of charcoal bags or timber being strapped to the bicycle while the person walked that long journey into a town. Other times these bicycles carried chickens or goats tied onto the back. And of course often there were 2 or 3 or 4 people on the bicycle! Unfortunately, some of them seemed to panic when they heard our truck coming and in their effort to get off the road, they steered into the bush and fell. I hope no-one was seriously hurt!

These blue washbasins seem to common in all three countries I have visited and are fundamental to the washing of clothes. Wherever there was a stream along the road, there too were the blue basins on the shore with people in the stream having a bath. The children of coarse looked to be playing far more than bathing but who could blame them on a sunny Sunday afternoon!

Sundays also seem to be a time for socializing and shopping in the villages. Clothing "stores", bicycle repair shops, hardware stores were open along with food and material and sundry items for sale. I began to notice that there were shops for the essentials of life, but there didn't seem to be any tourist type things that I have experienced in most of the other countries I have traveled in the world. When I shared this observation with the others in the truck, Karen commented that this part of Mozambique is the forgotten place where no tourists come. Being considerably off the beaten path may also account for the very few NGO (non-governmental organization) offices that I saw. Unfortunately, being off the beaten path also means that the needs of these people go largely unnoticed in the context of global issues and continental development. I pondered that and began to question if that lack of tourist attention had something to do with my growing feelings for this land I was privileged to walk on and for the people that I was interacting with even if it so very little. I was also aware that I was the tourist and pondered what stereotype I might be creating.

Perhaps it was the emotional intensity of this morning's worship service and the growing contemplations of all these experiences and information, but the afternoon drive became relatively quiet. I was also trying to refine the questions that I longed to discuss with Pastor Bene. Those questions have been brewing ever since I knew I was coming to Africa. I was 12 years old when I first sensed a need to go to Africa. Much has changed in the intervening decades both globally and in my own spirit and psyche. But there remained a deep restlessness that somehow demanded answers. And those answers would come I thought, if I could only ask the right questions of someone like Pastor Bene. Unfortunately, those deep questions now seemed to get caught in the swirl of the many other questions I ask in order to develop even the smallest insight to life from someone else's perspective. I seem to be hardwired to the impossible yet persistent need to understand the world through many eyes. This default tendency makes for tiring conversations for others while stimulating me.

Well soon enough we arrived in the village of Molumbo which has a craggy outcrop to give an inspiring backdrop and I suppose a reference point as one travels down trails and footpaths. We slowed down to pull into a small lane that led to a small concrete building surrounded by lawn and garden and trees. We had arrived at the clinic out of which the Medicinal Plant project (Medi-Plantas) is located. This project is funded partially by The United Church of Canada in partnership with the Christian Council of Mozambique - Zambezia.

To greet us was Pastor Manteiga Pulaisse and a group of young people who were the ecumenical youth group from Molumbo. The young people greeted us with song and dance. Pastor Manteiga explained the critical role this youth group is playing in the village as a voice for AIDS education, for community development and as role models to the many children. They seemed like very mature young adults and I wish I had the language to be able to talk to them directly. I normally have much to talk about with this age group.

Different however, was the gift I received from them - a chicken!! It was a lovely chicken but, because of my similar experiences in Jamaica, I assumed this lovely chicken was going to be our meal tonight! Even throughout our late dinner and through most of Monday, I continued to believe that supper was this nice chicken. It was late Monday night when I came to realize that my chicken had come back with us to Quielimane! Pastor Bene explained to me that this gift of chicken is highly symbolic. The giver of the chicken gives their household to you and thereby joining the two households together. The receiver of the chicken accepts the gift and vows to look after it as it will now look after the household of the giver. A symbiotic relationship is created with this ritual of a chicken. I wish I had known that this Sunday afternoon. I could have thanked them differently and taken care of my chicken differently! (I did give my chicken to Jack our trusty driver because all realized that I could not bring my chicken back home on the planes! But I now value this picture of my chicken and what it represents!)

In exchange for the chicken, Bill invited me to give Pastor Manteiga the new laptop computer that had been donated by folks in Canada and which I had carried throughout my travels to and in Africa. It came with two substantial batteries that would allow him enough power before needing to go to the closest town that had power. The clinic and the Molumbo village area have no electricity.

The Medi-Plantas project is based on the growing, distribution and harvesting of indigenous plants known for their medicinal qualities. Through training and research the combination of plants that can aid those with malaria and HIV has been developed. Through Medi-Plantas, CCM is also working closely with the local registered members of AMETRAMO, the Association of Traditional Healers of Mozambique.

This project is critical in this rural area where HIV /AIDS, malaria and malnutrition is extremely high. Malnutrition compromises further the health of those on anti-viral drugs, especially in the first months of treatment. Poverty denies access to other pharmaceuticals that would be common in other areas of the globe. Remote living also denies ready access to the closest hospital in Gurue, a round trip of about 100 klm. Nonetheless, this trip needs to be made in order to test the patient's white blood cell count and determine the start of the drugs. The Molumbo Health Centre is not equipped to deal with HIV but works with Pastor Manteiga to strengthen the patient for this long trip to Gurue.

The Medi-Plantas project started in April 2008 with a garden that in its initial planting, had to survive first drought and then tremendous rains. (see Bill's story on this initial development of this project in the Medi-Plantas Link). Today this "Mother Garden" as it is referred to is about 70 metres square and full of medicinal plants and a few nutritional plants. This "Mother Garden" has now spawned two more mother gardens, each about 50 metres squared. All of these gardens supply the transplants that are given to the HIV person and their support networks, often their families. Discrimination against HIV people often takes the form of kicking the person out of the family home and even the local village. Through counseling and support services like the medicinal plants, the CCM is able to reduce this crippling social behaviour. Today there are 257 families which receive vegetable seeds through the nutritional program and these families support 86 individuals with HIV/AIDS. To further reduce the discrimination practices of the community, each HIV person is able to give seeds to 4 other members of their own extended family. That distribution brings the total number of families that are supported by the Medi-Plantas project to 507. There are now 16 local gardens that support this network of people.

When the sick person receives the transplants they and their support people are shown how to plant and tend the crops. They also become part of a Training Group that goes through extensive group sessions that include: chronic disease and complications; immunization care; medicinal plant identification with scientific and local names; garden visits and extensive training for the creation of the teas and syrups from the medicinal plants. CCM also supplies the candles and syrups that are required for making some of the medicines. I will return to this critical and most unique project later.
When the greeting time drew to a close, Jack unloaded the supplies we had brought with us from the truck. We were headed to the "Mother Gardens". The young people were also very anxious to show us where they wish to develop another garden. Before I knew it, all the young people and all the adults crawled into the truck in one space or another for the journey down the road. I was glad I got to ride up front but I remember this mode of packed transport in many other countries.

The first garden was magnificent. I was so excited to see this since I have a personal interest in using medicinal plants at home as supports for my own health. I don't grow them (yet!) but look to them as first line of defense when illness creeps in. Throughout our time in the fields, Bill was taking a video for a documentary that is planned for later this year.

I certainly recognized some of the plants . One very common to some of us in Canada would be the Aloe Vera plant, which you see in front of Pastor Manteiga. It was also interesting to see the vegetable seeds that had just been planted despite the drought that persisted. But what was most certainly the most interesting to see was the sheer passion and joy Pastor Manteiga had as he carefully explained things to each of us. Pastor Bene and Karen were equally asking questions and like I, trying to comprehend how this Mother Garden has gone on to make so many people so much healthier as they learn to lead good and productive lives despite the challenges of HIV/AIDS.

Down the road a ways we came to the field where the youth group from Molumbo wish to develop their medicinal and nutritional garden. What a setting it was! What a vision it is!
I wish I could understand what the young people were saying as Bill videotaped them about their dream. I look forward to seeing the finished product on YouTube (with English sub-titles I hope!).

One more stop at one of the other gardens and then it was time to head back to the clinic. We dropped young people off here and there along the way. It was then I realized that I had not had much of an opportunity to talk to them one on one. It was a busy, interesting time but what an opportunity missed!

It was time to clean up and get set for the fast approaching darkness. I looked for opportunities to go and talk with Pastor Bene but he was enjoying his conversation with Pastor Manteiga. I knew that it was a far more important conversation between the President of the Zambezia District of the CCM and this critical project manager, pastor and nurse. (Later I found out that Pastor Manteiga is also a Specialist in Chronic Diseases.)

As darkness came upon us, the solar lights that London Conference had sent to the clinic kicked in. It was just enough light to see where you were going, to see what you were eating and for me, to see what I was writing when we gathered for conversation after supper. It was a time of humbling discovery. It was then that I had my first experience of the presence of Christ directly in this healing ministry. Here is the story that moved me.

Referrals come to the clinic through the Medical Centre in Molumbo, by other patients, by family members or church members; but referrals come to Pastor Manteiga whose reputation as a healer in all aspects of human need precede him. Sometimes the patient is literally dropped off at his house by a family who is afraid and does not want the person close by. He goes to find the family and talks to them about the disease and works very hard to get the family to accept the person back into their household. The Medi-Plantas project is explained, as is the nutritional support that will be provided, the assistance with the travel back and forth to the hospital in Gurue and the personal support of the CCM staff. This support includes a visit every other day to ensure that the medicines are being used properly. What I began to grasp slowly was the enormity of this ministry of support. Patients are scattered throughout the countryside, some in places accessible only by bicycle.

When it is time for the patients to travel to the hospital, Pastor Manteiga goes to their home and brings them on the back of his motorcycle or bicycle back to the clinic the day before. There the patients rest and eat before the long journey. The next morning, close to dawn, the patients have to climb into the back of a transport type truck along with other passengers. Pastor Manteiga goes along to ensure their well being since the journey is hard on them. Some patients die en route. He also mediates the discrimination that is likely to occur with the other passengers. His expertise is also needed in the hospital with the patients as they undergo tests and to be present during the patient/doctor consultation. The Hospital recognizes the valuable work that he does and attempts to schedule all his patients on the same day to minimize his trips. That I am sure is much appreciated. After a full day of consultations, everyone gets back on the transport truck for the long, dusty and bumpy journey back. I can hardly imagine what that would be like for I know how achy my back became bumping up and down in a nice four wheel drive, cushioned seat truck!

When the patients and Pastor Manteiga return to the clinic, the patients stay overnight again, receiving food and medicine. The next day Pastor Manteiga begins the multiple journeys to take each patient back to their home. This entire procedure takes 3 days, requires the feeding of the patients with 2 suppers as well as food for the journey, and the $100 meticals for the cost of having the truck wait till all the patients are done before heading back to Molumbo. Often this process occurs every 15 days when the patients are new and their blood works needs to be taken as the anti-viral drugs begin to take effect.

The description of this journey to the hospital in Gurue was nothing short of simultaneously disturbing and miraculous. As I listened and questioned Pastor Manteiga, I sometimes asked for re-clarification because I could hardly believe the story. I became agitated; agitated at my own ease of life and the banquet table of health care that is at my finger tips when others have to endure so much.

The thought of these HIV/AIDS patients having to bring their sick bodies to the hospital via a transport truck disturbed me greatly. What a difference a truck/ambulance would make for the care of these people - surely it must be possible! While the emotions raged inside I knew that during this conversation I could not make promises that I could not keep nor make promises on behalf of anyone else. I tried to be careful to ask what was needed from their perspective while internally problem solving from my perspectives. That was a very difficult moment of juggling an internal and external thought process laden with emotions making it hard to continue the conversation. I was being haunted by the look in Pastor Manteiga's eyes as he talked about the toll this journey to the hospital takes on the patients, never mind the ability of the clinic to cope with this need to transport, feed and care. I returned to my room and let the story of this reality burn into my heart to see how God will give it life when I return to Canada. I went to sleep that night with much on my heart and lips.

Sunday morning, March 7th

2010-03-23T23:08:00.022-04:00

The sounds of life began around 6 am. The first sound that entered my consciousness was laughter. It struck me how often I was hearing laughter - yesterday from the excited and gathered PEDRA girls, from the youth going home after youth group, from children playing in the little creeks and now from the women sitting in the shade for a moment,and those first individuals walking down the road to somewhere. This laughter is noteworthy.

After a hearty breakfast of eggs and those homefry equivalents, a sausage and tomatoes and cucumbers, and a coffee, I ventured out on the street of this little town by myself. As I started to stroll, I was acutely aware of being something of a spectacle, long dress for church, different skin and hair colour and also because I had my big camera in hand. But that camera turned out to be the very thing which broke down the barriers between me and the people on the street, just a little. There were a few children looking suspiciously at me. One seemed a little braver, I took a picture of her and then encouraged her to come over and see the digital image on the back of the camera. When she did, she broke up in laughter and that enticed the other children to come over as well. They all wanted to see themselves.

Standing by the front doors of the inn was Cecelia, the innkeeper I suppose, who was going out of her way to make us all comfortable since we arrived. She too wanted a picture of herself. The reaction was the same - this genuine laughter that was both a sense of being pleased as well as pleasing to my ear. Even without a common language between us, it was easy to enjoy this moment of glee.

A few minutes later, Cecelia came and asked me to take pictures of her co-workers - this man who was making the floor spic and span and her friend who was doing the cooking. They were so pleased to see themselves together in this picture.

When I mentioned this to Bill, he explained that in these rural areas, many people do not have an opportunity to see themselves - there are few mirrors, no shiny bumpers on cars or shiny teakettles. Maybe a still clear puddle or the occasional clean window. To have seen themselves with such clarity might in fact been the first time for those younger children. How I wished that I had a Polaroid camera!!

This little town of Namarroi is truly picturesque with the mountains in the background. It is early but people are moving along with their sugar cane, coconuts and all sorts of wares. The music man across the street is playing a bit of reggae and some local music that sounds a lot like a Portuguese polka based ballad! Around the corner I stopped to watch a large black sow defend her piglets from a far too curious shepherd type dog. Further up the street I saw another dog enjoying the morning sun while the owner (I assume) was already busy sewing something on his front porch with the black Singer sewing machine with the foot pedal like my mother used to have when I was little. I saw these same sewing machines in Tanzania at the Women's Training Centre. Makes sense for places that have little if any electricity!

Before I knew it, Karen had tracked me down and told me it was time to load up and make our way to the church. Jack and Pastor Bene were there at the inn with the truck mostly loaded, just waiting for my suitcase. In we climbed with our Sunday best on and as we began to move down the road, I suddenly realized that this little town had somehow managed to quickly feel familiar and comfortable. I was a little sad to see it fade past the eucalyptus trees that lined the road at one point.

A few bumps and turns and shortly we were pulling into a church and school complex. And there, just like yesterday was this big group of PEDRA girls. They had all come in from their various villages to share in this church service. I was amazed. They looked so beautiful with their radiant and curious faces. And their "maes" (leaders) Jacenta and Rosa were so proud of the singing and dancing. What a celebration!! There were over 60 PEDRA girls and I think everyone was so impressed. I certainly noted how tender Karen became and I was so happy for her and the ministry she has offered to these girls and their families and their villages.

As we stood under the shade of the large tree (for even at 9 am that African sun was hot), the local pastor, Rafael, greeted Pastor Bene and then was introduced to me. Other village people were gathering as well. About 10 minutes later, Pastor Bene came over to me and asked if I would like to give the sermon this morning in church. I quickly declined and assured him that he would do a much better job. To preach the Gospel of hope and grace in someone else's context has always challenged me. It brought back memories of those first services I did as a student intern with the Methodist church in Barbados.

It was time to go into the church for the service. As I walked along, suddenly my left foot just dropped into the ground beneath me. I had hit a pocket under the ground that sometimes is created by the ants. It surprised me for sure but no harm came. I just had to figure out how to get out of that hole in my dress with a bad right knee and still have some dignity. Not sure I accomplished the dignity but with Bill's help I made it up and carried on.

It was a large gathering place. Joining the two pastors at the front was a youth pastor and the reader for the day. When I looked behind me there was a sea of PEDRA girls and other youth groups that had started to sit down. The service began with some introductions and greetings. I was able to address the gathered people and bring greetings from the church in Canada. That felt good, especially with Bill and Karen sitting there and knowing that those who support the Mission and Service Fund are directly influencing the ministry in this remote place in Mozambique. My heart was proud of our United Church and its principles of partnership and its vision to see the value of the ministry here.

There were many, many community announcements - this is truly a place of sharing each others trials and joys. Then the youth pastor talked about a recent youth conference and the subsequent opportunity that was created for someone from the village to go to a year long Bible study with a bursary that was being offered. The only catch - they would have to leave tomorrow. Much was said about how this was a golden opportunity for someone and a privilege for the village.

Then the first hymn and prayers were offered. The hymns were familiar in tune and reading Portuguese phonetically seemed to get me through. Next was a series of musical offerings from the children, the PEDRA girls and the local youth group. Song after song of celebration, some from what I could interpret through hand movement would have been praise music. I was so moved by the sound of those voices, the harmonies and the accompanying rhythms created by the stomping or dragging of feet on the concrete floor. The human body can indeed create a wondrous sound.

It was time for the sermon. This was made more challenging for as Pastor Bene spoke in Portuguese, Pastor Rafael translated into the local dialect while Bill translated into English for me! But as Pastor Bene spoke I knew that once again I had been blessed to be in the company of a minister who understood the need for community based ministry, who understood the dynamic of life within the church as a way to engage life outside the church. I connected to his message deeply. Using the Matthew passage of the disciples in the boat on the sea when the storm came upon them, Pastor Bene spoke of his people's storms in life - waves of HIV/AIDS, being orphaned, having the drought take away their food for tomorrow, having cholera and malaria make their children die at such tender ages, women dying in childbirth. These waves of trouble are just as real as the waves that crashed upon the disciples in the boat. Then he challenged them to two things: first, to have faith in the Jesus who did calm the storm and held his disciples safe; and secondly, to work together to help each other, find new ways of protecting the children, to create ways in which people can be involved in the communities outside the churches and bring hope in the face of all their common problems.

My heart was leaping for joy and tears streamed down my face - it always does when I realize I am listening to a prophet. These words were a powerful message, especially since Pastor Bene lived the storms right along his people. I longed for the opportunity to demonstrate my solidarity with this message which I too preach in my very different context. In that moment there was a clarity of the Good News in the church universal. In that moment I knew I had to find a time and place to speak with Pastor Bene at length. I was so deeply moved that I had a hard time focusing on the rest of the service.

After the service there was a time of mingling outside. I had a bit of a hard time to be in that moment and space for my heart and head were still trying to process what had just happened over the last 2 hours. Soon it was time to say goodbye and start our afternoon journey higher into the mountains towards the border with Malawi.

Saturday afternoon, March 6th

2010-03-16T12:29:00.022-04:00

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As we traveled down a secondary road, I began to notice a few things: first, that the house construction was different here in this part of Mozambique compared to rural Tanzania. Because of the high clay component in most of the soil, the homes were generally made of locally produced red bricks with thatched roofs. You could spot the brick ovens that were built on the properties that would cure the bricks before use.

Secondly I noticed that the countryside and the village streets were remarkably clean in comparison to my observations in both urban Uganda and urban/ruralTanzania. I remarked about this to Bill and Karen and after some thought, they suggested that perhaps this state of cleanliness has more to do with the lack of items to purchase and the intense reuse mentality of the people who have so little to begin with. That took a bit of contemplation from me - on the one hand the reuse policy is fantastic from an environmental perspective. However, the need to reuse items due to the deep poverty and its corresponding lack of accessibility to goods did not seem to provide a good balance to this overall equation.

Thirdly I noticed new types of vegetation such as these beautiful Eucalyptus trees. Everywhere I went the rides seemed so short for I had much to look at, many questions to ask and internal thoughts to process!

Before I knew we were slowing down as the road became a little less substantial and definitely more bumpy. We were approaching the town of Namarroi where Karen has worked to develop a PEDRA program for the older girls. As the girls from the small villages complete their Grade 5 they have to move to the next largest community where the next few grades would be offered. Then they need to come to the town of Namorroi for the senior grades up to Grade 10. This is a near impossibility for most families for now comes not only school fees and books and uniforms but transportation or semester lodging. CCM's PEDRA bolseira (bursary-girl) program was developed to respond to this challenge. In cooperation between AMER (a local Association of Women for Rural Education) and the Christian Council of Mozambique, a LAR or residence/dormitory has been built here. Then in a unique partnership between CCM, United Church of Canada overseas personnel and the Unitarian Universalists of Cumberland Valley from the USA, a bursary fund was established to help pay the cost of such higher education. This bursary recognizes the value of higher education for the girls and their society. Girls who stay in school are more likely to delay marriage and motherhood. This reduces the spread of AIDS and slows the rate of population growth. In addition, girls who finish upper primary school (6th and 7th grades) are also more likely to become community leaders, acquire the capability to earn extra money for their families, and see that their children attend school. Thus, helping girls stay in school has sustainable benefits.

The dormitory life brings the PEDRA girls together and they help & encourage each other with school work and personal challenges. In turn they become excellent role models for the younger PEDRA girls.

Let me share one such amazing story of hope and resilience that seems to sum up what I see as the determination of these girls. I'm quoting Karen and Bill's description in one of their many Letters from Overseas 9 July 2009 (see link) .... "Felizarda is a girl in the rural PEDRA centre called Regone. We wrote about her way back in Letter 158 in May 2006. She’s 17 now, in grade 7, and since childhood polio has had no use of her legs. For years, to get to school she crawled 2.5 kilometers each way through the dry-season dust and rain-season mud, until district Health authorities heard of her and arranged a wheelchair. ‘Felizarda’ means fortunate and happy. Despite her disability, she has the good fortune of courage, grit, and persistently cheerful disposition. Three years of travel on the dirt tracks of rural Regone have taken a toll on that first wheelchair. It’s sturdy but wearing out. So the Christian Council arranged another one, the latest Quelimane model, as part of an ongoing program with a craftsman in Quelimane named Matias who builds them (as well as the produce carts and ambulance stretchers which CCM also distributes)".

I met Felizarda twice - I was drawn to her inner strength and sense of joy. I don't think anyone represents that profound human spirit in the PEDRA girls more than Felizarda. I am humbled by her determination and yet sense this broad great hope that is rising from the young generation of this now gentle country.

As the afternoon waned it was time to make our way back to Namarroi for the evening. However, we first climbed the hillside to the site of the Roman Catholic church. As we pulled into their yard, the young people were just leaving from their youth group activities. I requested to see the inside of the church if possible. It was beautiful with its high ribbed ceiling and simple pews. It somehow reminded me of a small Catholic church I once saw on the Magdalen Islands off Canada's Prince Edward Island. That local interpreter explained that the ribbing on the ceiling was indicative of the ribs in a boat, just upside down. The symbolism was rich with the people being in the boat with Jesus, and with the idea of a God who turns our world upside down to create peace and justice and good. I couldn't help but wonder if the designers of this older church saw this space with similar symbolism. (I also noted the collection of African drums in the corner and wished I could hear them being played!)

In the town of Namarroi we stopped at a small inn for the night. After cleaning up a bit, Bill, Karen and I met for some supper of beef strips, home fries and that lovely tomato/cucumber salad and lots and lots of water for me! The dark was coming, the music was beginning to play out on the street and a wedding was well underway at the back of the inn. Yet, somehow, laying in my room with a fan blowing on the bed, the sounds were good, real good - sounds of life and places of relationships. I drifted off (much to my light sleeper surprise). It had been a long day of driving and talking and meeting.

Saturday morning, March 6th

2010-03-15T04:53:00.036-04:00

Well, it was an early rise, a quick breakfast of a wonderful fresh fruit smoothie (the kind of fruit that has probably been picked in the last 48 hours - what a treat!!) and on the road @ 7 am. Joining Karen, Bill and myself was Rev. Bene Cumbucane Diraiva whom everyone called Pastor Bene. He is the President of the Zambezia District of the CCM which also puts him into an active role in the national level of the CCM. The best that I can equate his position to is that of the Executive Director at the Conference level of The United Church of Canada, though his ministry is within an ecumenical circle. He is a teacher which offers a means of income for his family since pastors in Mozambique for the most part are not offered monetary remuneration. Much to the surprise of Karen and Bill, it turned out that Pastor Bene spoke English quite well. This also was good news for me for I was certainly hoping that I would have several opportunities for in-depth discussions with him!

The other person on our journey was Jack, our wonderful, careful driver for the duration of my time. When we set out this morning, we did so with about 6 - 50 kg bags of rice, several gas cans since there will be no place to get gas along our journey and sundry other items as well as luggage in the back of the pick-up truck. Some way down the one and only main highway from Quilemane, Jack pulled over to get some bags of charcoal that we will need to provide for those who will be cooking our meals. In this picture, Jack in on the rightin the yellow shirt and Bill is on the left in the blue one. Bill commented to me about his puzzlement on why Jack will drive past countless road side sellers of charcoal and then stop at a particular one as if he instinctively knew this would be the best and/or cheapest charcoal!

Charcoal is the predominate means for cooking in this country which is considered one of the 20 poorest countries in the world with roughly 55% living below the poverty line. Charcoal is almost exclusively the form for cooking in the rural area leading to increases in deforestation, health risks and a draw on valuable time that could be directed to other forms of income generation (according to a research paper on the status of clean cooking fuels by Doctoral candidates: Fabiao Cumbe, Deepak Sharma and Carlos Lucas (linked)).

As we journeyed along this main road, the countryside continually showed evidence of good soil though I was told that over cultivation is common resulting in poorer crop yields. Unlike the area to the south with its serious floods, this part of the country west of Quilemane has been experiencing a serious drought. The rainy season is usually between November and March and would provide the main crop of the year. The rains came in December but lasted only 2 weeks! The fields now show stunted maize (corn) stalks with no evidence of cobs on them. The furrows are hard and cracked as only the cassava grows and other crops wilt. Regions have been so hard hit that emergency food aid is being called for as the already hungry people begin to scavenge for tubers and wild fruit. Thoughts of those smiling faces under such duress begins to effect me.

Every smiling child is a young life so at risk. And there are so many, many young lives - UNICEF reports (2009) that there are 10 million under the age of 18 - almost 1/2 of the entire population! And their current life expectancy is only 37 years, partly because of the high mortality rate for children under 5, the high rate of HIV/AIDS and the striking poverty that hits children first. Add to that the outbreaks of cholera and malaria and then the floods and droughts.

But then, the stories that Bill and Karen are sharing make me realize quickly that high risk is the norm for nearly all the population. HIV/AIDS education starts with the 10 year olds in order to try to reduce the very sad reality of 50% of the young women dying of AIDS before age 30. The rate of infection is slowing nationally but the total numbers of death is still not decreasing in Mozambique. When I pause to reflect on the girls that I have seen along this journey already, I can hardly fathom that half of them will likely die at a very young age!

When one sees the surrounding village life and the challenges it must present to the children, the companionship and mutual support that the PEDRA program fosters becomes an obvious ray of hope for the villagers. So many times families struggle for the money to send their children to school. If they manage to save a little, then boys are the first to receive an education. PEDRA tips the scales a little to allow all these wonderful bright young girls to seek their own future in a country beset by problems yes, but also poised to continue their development as a healthy, free nation with equal opportunity for all.

That reality calls forth such an honouring of the Pedra girls and the strength that I witness - the sheer determination against odds that I know little of back home. To find a way to get to school, to stay in school, to learn about good choices for oneself that differs from the norms of the society around you - to avoid HIV/AIDS, to avoid pregnancy; to dream of becoming a nurse or teacher (and I hope I might have inspired one or so to think about ministry!), to be able to make a difference in your society which itself struggles to mature and develop as an independent nation.

And here they were, the PEDRA girls, waiting for us in the tiny village of Mutaliwa. Waiting to sing greetings, to sing of their faith, to act out a play about first aid. To show with pride their embroidery, their writing. Gathering with older women who teach, encourage and care for them, they themselves full of hope and even more resiliency and determination.

All the singing and laughter brought the attention of other village children who seemed curious.Soon it was time for lunch and the adults appeared to have all under control. I can't imagine cooking for 30 or so over a charcoal fire. Plates of rice and beans were dished up and everyone enjoyed the meal together. After lunch, it was time to carry on up the road towards Namarroi.

Friday, March 5th

2010-03-15T01:16:00.033-04:00

It was a peaceful morning in this quaint, almost forgotten place in the middle of Maputo. Breakfast was communal again and prior to that I had the pleasure of talking to a young man who regularly comes in for some wisdom from one of the elderly woman who run the 'Oasis'. He had become a "born again" Christian several years earlier and that obviously made a big impact on his life. Yet lately, he seems to have hit a struggling point. His church wants him to be only around mature Christians in order that his young faith is not challenged too much. But following that rule leaves him unable to be around his family, none of whom it seems are Christians. His mother's health is declining and he wishes to see her but doesn't know what to do.

I felt for him. I had a range of reactions and a boatload of opinions; yet I knew enough to keep fairly quiet and let him just talk. I had no idea of his real context, his personal space and the pressures that he was under. It was interesting to see him come to his own sense of how Jesus came to be with the sinners and not with only the like-minded. It was also sad to watch his intense struggle and I could not help but associate the rules of his faith community with those of the Pharisees around Jesus.

That was a bit of a heavy way to start the morning, especially before breakfast! Around the table this morning was a returning pair of missionaries from Texas who were likely in their 70's. The husband had been called to help set up some governance structures for the missionary based church in Mozambique. The wife was recovering from cancer treatments. They had also come back for the next year to celebrate an upcoming birth of a grandchild and the marriage of another child. Both the expectant mother and the groom-to-be were their adopted children from the orphanage that they worked with many, many years earlier. I had a pleasant breakfast talking to the woman about these upcoming events and how their biological children back in the USA felt about them.

After breakfast it was time to pack and get ready for Orlando, the taxi driver for the 'Oasis', to take me to the airport for my flight to Quilemane, north of Maputo along the coastline of the Indian Ocean. I was getting really excited. I would be met by Karen and Bill Butt who have been United Church overseas personnel in Quilemane for nearly 10 years. Karen and Bill are originally from London, ON but now work with the Christian Council of Mozambique (CCM). I would be spending all of my time in Mozambique with them and I was glad to have the opportunity to be with ones who knew both the Mozambican and Canadian context and would help me make the connections I always thirst for. They also were fluent in Portuguese which means that they could interpret for me!

The anticipation of connecting was put on hold for about 1 hour as we had to wait for the airfield to be cleared. It seems that Prime Minister of Portugal had been visiting Mozambique and was now departing (the man with the red tie). Some of the local people were allowed onto the runway to show their support through song and dance. That was fun to watch even if it was from the boarding lounge!

One we got air bound, the flight northward provided a glimpse of this troubled landscape. Being a coastal area and having the large Zambizia River flow from the west means that much of the land is already susceptible to wetland conditions. This past January, central Mozambique was hit by torrential rains that caused a great deal of flooding, killing people, mostly children and destroying the main season crops. Roads and bridges were damaged as well as thousands of homes according to Reuters Services. This central area was hit again a few weeks ago. From the air, much of the land looked like a huge wetland with a series of large ponds and bogs..I found this recent image off the web that seems to depict what I saw from the low-flying airplane.

When I landed in Quilemane, Karen was there to greet me and take me to the offices of the Christian Council of Mozambique- Zambezia District, which is where her and Bill work out of. As we pulled into the complex, there to greet us with song and dance were a number of girls whose wide smiles and strong voices made for an amazing energy. We did a really cute name game in a circle where everyone did an action along with their name. The rest of us would repeat the name and the action. I was presented with a T-shirt, a wrap skirt and a maroon and light grey bracelet. Karen explained to me later that the two interwoven colours on the bracelet represent 2 people, 2 cultures, 2 countries that create something beautiful together. The girls make these as fundraiser items. I'm never good with this kind of attention but the enthusiasm of these girls just wrapped around me and quickly invited me into the space.

Karen's work has evolved largely around the development of an educational program for girls mostly in the rural area. Called PEDRA, (Portuguese acronym for Programa de Educacao da Rapariga, which means Program for the Education of Girls. It's also the Portuguese word for 'rock'. which is why it was chosen as the name, since the program aims to give girls a firm foundation and there are lots of Biblical contexts with the "Rock" image. The girls themselves apparently choose to call themselves "pedrinhas" which means "little rocks".) This model of community building and support for girls includes learning through games, dance and theatre, skill development, academic support and teaching/motivation for good lifestyle choices. Much of our time together will be visiting the various PEDRA communities so more will come for sure!

Bill's work involves the multi-faceted area of communications for the CCM. The first glimpse of this work was not what I expected. As we walked across the complex, the first office we came to was a recording studio!! Turns out that Bill was able to develop an all ready present hub of music and video production enthusiasts. Over time, he was able to develop the facilities for such production and put it to good use developing videos both for the various churches that make up the Christian Council of Mozambique and for the general public. The content of these videos were largely focused on the prevention of HIV/AIDS - more on this most pressing issue later. If you wish to see some of these videos, check out the links provided - you'll enjoy them and will begin to understand what is on the minds of these young people in Mozambique!

After a few introductions to the rest of the staff, we loaded up in the truck and went to Bill and Karen's home for a clean-up, supper and an early bed. En route we passed a large Catholic church which is the dominate historic Christian denomination. Shortly further down the road was a beautiful large Mosque to serve the growing Muslim population of Quilemane. With a population of over 21.7 million, the 1997 census reported that 24% are Roman Catholic, 22% are Protestant, 20% are Muslim, and one-third do not profess a religion or belief; however, religious leaders speculated that a significant proportion of this group practiced some form of indigenous religion.

As Bill talked about the governance of this country, I found it very interesting to note the similarities in the constitutions of Mozambique and Canada. The Mozambique government separates religion and state as we do in Canada and provides for religious freedom though it restricts religious instruction in public schools. These public schools provide the bulk of the education system though private, church associated schools are beginning to increase. That was one thing that I noticed right away in Quilemane compared to Uganda and Tanzania - there were far, far fewer small corner churches and associated nursery schools, middle schools etc. in Mozambique - noticeably fewer!

According to the US Embassy 2009 Report on Mozambique, the Law on Religious Freedom in Mozambique requires religious institutions and missionary organizations to register with the Ministry of Justice, reveal their principal sources of funding, and provide the names of at least 500 followers in good standing. No particular benefits or privileges are associated with registration, and there were no reports that the Government refused to register any religious group during the reporting period. However, the Government also appears very careful with the transparency and accountability of the NGO's (Non-government agencies like World Vision or Save the Children among thousands).

I've posted a link to an article on the history of the duality of evangelization and colonialization as it occurred in Mozambique. This is written by Elias Massicame for The Ecumenical Review, July 2001 and refers extensively to the work by Mozambican theologian Simao Chamango, in his book on the history of the churches in Mozambique. I have not read enough about this country to sense broad historic perspectives offered in this article.

Thursday, March 4th

2010-03-12T10:15:00.003-05:00

Today was a long travel day. Flight departed Tanzania at 7:30 am and I was in Johannesburg, South Africa around 11 am. Unfortunately my flight to Mozambique was not scheduled to leave until 2 pm. It was late arriving which made it an 1 hour late arriving in Maputo. Fortunately the person who was arranged to pick me up had checked the status and did come at the right time. Orlando drove me to a little bed & breakfast that is run by 2 sisters who have been in Mozambique for a long time. What a quaint place with old gardens tucked in corners! Dinner is served as a community and table conversation was interesting since most visitors are missionary types of one kind or another. One young lady named Lisa has been working in an orphange for nearly 6 years. Another mid-aged man comes in every few years to teach some courses. This week he was teaching some governance and ethics course for church administration. Given the very early start that day, I went to bed as the conversations waned and the dusk settled.

Wednesday, March 3rd

2010-03-12T09:58:00.004-05:00

Morning came early with much to do before I was picked up by Leonard. Had a quick breakfast, had to confirm my flight, change money and pay the hotel bill. Fortunately the early bedtime last night helped with having somewhat of a clear head first thing in the morning.

We traveled back to the offices of the CCT. From there we went to tour the barrio in Dodomo (I'm never quite sure how to describe these areas - I guess the closest recognizable words would be squatter town or slums). This particular area contained many people with HIV/AIDS and was one focused on by CCT. The tremendous complex challenges of working with people in extreme poverty and with HIV/AIDS takes one into issues of education, health, social fabric and discrimination, reduced accessibility and quality of common services, and many more. The issue of land ownership adds to the instable complexity of such a place and strengthens the cycle of poverty. I came to learn that in Tanzania, land titles are a significant challenge for the poor and for those who have lived on a certain parcel of land for multiple generations. If you do not have legal title then that land is vulnerable. To get legal title, one has to have clear identity and proof of entitlement, such as documents from parents. One can only imagine what begins to happen when a person with no identity (no birth certificate because children in poverty are rarely registered) tries to argue for what they have experienced as their home. The real problem arises as development increases in places like Dodomo. If the government plans a project which needs the lands of the barrio and if the people in the barrio cannot prove legal claim to that land, things become explosive. As was explained, the government issues a 1 day vacancy notice and then proceeds to come in the next day with the bulldozers. Gone are homes, pots and pans, clothing and even people who stay behind. The poor run to whereever they can with whatever they can carry and will simply have to start over again. Tragic.

On our way back to the office for some lunch, I saw the home that will be for the new overseas personnel who will be posted to the CCT in Tanzania very soon. After a quick lunch in a local little restaurant, it was time to pack everything into the truck and begin the very long journey back to Dar Es Salaam on the eastern coastline of Tanzania. After 8 1/2 hours, we arrived at the hotel close to the airport. I was glad to be so close to the airport (15 mins) because I needed to be at the airport by 5:30 am the next morning.

After cleaning up a bit, I went to have some supper because I knew I would be leaving before breakfast. At the end of the meal the restaurant manager, a young man in his 20's, came to bring the bill. We started chatting a bit and he seemed intrigued by the fact that I was a pastor. He ended up bringing over a plate of food for himself and our conversation focused greatly on the inclusiveness of The United Church. He seemed disillusioned with his church experiences yet he and a few friends met for bible study quite frequently. It was a good conversation and would have gone on longer but I knew that 4:30 am was coming quickly. Still, I am also so thankful for the opportunity to glimpse a tiny bit of someone else's world through their eyes.

Tuesday, March 2nd

2010-03-12T03:12:00.016-05:00

The next morning I toured the kitchen facilities at the WTC. The kitchen itself is sometimes an integral part of the training such as the time when participants were given the task of assembling a meal right from scratch – sorting& cleaning of rice, picking vegetables, all those things that go into making an evening meal. The purpose was to show the women participants how hard some women have to work just to feed their families once a day. This understanding in turn becomes one among many which will build solidarity across the economic layers of women in this society.

I could not help but reflect on the potential of the land and the kitchens for the development and training of community gardens and community kitchens as they are known in our Canadian context. It is an area of community based ministry that I am very interested in with my own context especially in light of the new movement of eating locally and for some, the lost skills of cooking from scratch.

Leaving this wonderful centre had also left me with a profound gratitude for the vision and determination of the CCT to invest in such training and development of women in a society that historically has minimized them. Our sisters are blessed by this.

On the way to Dodomo I was once again impressed by the beautiful farmlands along the way. I saw the way in which some were able to rebuild and rebuild their family homes as the people’s sheer creativity, resiliancy and determination allowed that to happen. Often the first homes are built of sticks and rope packed with mud and a thatch roof. My guess would be that they were approximently 8 x 10 ft in size? As one can imagine, during the rainy season many of these homes would suffer damage as the roof and mud walls washed out. As the family’s economic means increased, these homes were replaced with clay brick construction and thatched roofs which were replaced by corrugated steel as money allowed. The clay brick walls were then plastered, then painted.
Each step of improvement seemed to be accompanied by an increase in the size of the home. The value of educating the women with income producing skills and knowledge is directly seen in the landscape that passed by the car window.

Arriving at a very nice hotel in Dodomo I was aware of my own tension that happens as one steps through poverty back to the norms of wealth. This tension is always difficult for me to reconcile.

After 45 mins to unpack and refresh, it was time for lunch with 3 of the staff members of the CCT. From our conversations I was impressed at how much working for the CCT meant to each. The overall Christian framework, the sense of solidarity within the staff and the self understanding that they do the work of Jesus Christ is critical to their sense of work. More than once it was mentioned that to work in a different organization would be very difficult even if it meant more income for their families.

As was becoming noticeable the matters of HIV/AIDS and gender justice seemed to weave itself into so many peices of the complex web of issues that the CCT faces today. The conversation touched upon the ways in which people can be transitioned from seeing themselves as needing charity to finding ways and means to solve their own problems. We talked about the impact of what was named as 12 Step Theology (something I equate to my sense of the Prosperity Gospel). And we discussed how much patience is required at times when working through Ecumenical Councils and the tension that creates when the daily needs of the people are so deep and wide. It was a long lunch hour discussion that was very fruitful and I thank the staff for giving up their time when the workload is immense.

At 4 pm I was greeted by the organizer of Youth Employment and Food Production Foundation (YEFOFO), another partner of The United Church of Canada in Tanzania. (now the weakness of my note taking will show - for I did not write down the name of the gentleman, believing I would remember it - will provide as soon as I find out).They have applied for funding under the Extra Measures Program through the UCC. Here is the description of that request as it appears on the Hamilton Conference website.. "Many rural communities in Tanzania are struggling daily with the ripple effects of national debt, inadequate government support, and health crises that manifest at a local level in a lack of resources and poverty. Drought and lack of access to land are also major factors in crop and livestock failure. Drought comes not only as a natural phenomenon of inadequate rainfall and floods but also due to poor land management practices that strip the land of its capacity to produce. The brunt of these food shortages is borne by vulnerable groups such as women, youth and children who historically have had less access to society's resources. The United Church has been in partnership with YEFOFO since it was formed in the 1980s."

For the next 2 1/2 hours we talked about the process of helping people to believe in their own capacities. First was a tour of a facility being built in one of the outlying neighbourhoods of Dodomo. This building will house a conference/banquet hall, smaller meetings spaces and office space as well as washrooms. The intent is to use the space for the develoment of the young people in this community, programs such as language and computer upgrading, learning functional skills such as electricity and construction as well as other needs as the arise from the youth. The rental of the hall and meetings spaces for weddings and conferences will provide much needed income to allow the programming to happen.

One of the most successful projects focused on teaching young women in a particular village to develop their own food security and become teachers for other women. This seems like it was a complex yet carefully thought out program that was developed over 4 years. It was located in a small village called Itumba, further west of Dodomo. The first challenge was to negotiate with the village elder to come in, talk to the women, see who would be interested and form a group to work with. Then, some analysis was done by the women on how best to start to increase the stability of themselves within the social fabric of the community. When that analysis was done and the focus clearly became food security, the next step was to approach the village elder for some land that could be given to the women for this project. That meant explaining the benefits to the village as a whole which would be one of the priorities for the village elders. Land was granted and the women formed an association (I associated that as a collective organization). They began to plant a mix of crops using techniques for cultivation and companion planing. The work was hard but doing it together sustained the women in this initial stage. When it was time to reap the harvest, metal boxes were secured for the women to protect the seed and some of the food from rats which can sometimes destroy nearly 60% of what has been saved. Since the harvest produced and sold well, the profit was divided among the women as well as reinvested into the growing project. With the share the women received individually, most spent it on their children's school needs or their homes. This is a common story about women across this land.

The next year or so, this women's association grew to realize they needed to expand past crop production. They began to explore micro-credit options, and with loan, they purchased some locally bred cows. YEFOFO I believe, provided them with a bull from a different locale in order to keep a broad genetic pool. Then came a real stretch of learning for the women. It was one thing to have the cows, it was another to learn about tending and using all the benefits of cows. For example, cows have traditionally been allowed to graze freely through the countryside. Recent practice however, shows the health benefits of containing one's cows away from other herds, thereby reducing the risk of cross-contamination of diseases. The thought of tying a cow to a certain spot and letting them eat grass and stubble seemed counter intuitive to them. However, after seeing other people tending their cattle in this manner and seeing the health of the cattle, the women agreed to try this new method.

Than came another challenge - using the manure that was being produced. I of course thought immediately of using it as a fertilizer on the crop. Not so. It was far more valuable as bio-gas to replace the traditional way of cooking with charcoal. Once again, demonstrations of others using this method convinced the women to try likewise. Equipment was secured and teaching was done on proper use.

The following year came the challenge of roof water harvesting. In four years, these women and by now their supporting life partners were changing their economic wellbeing and finding a way to improve their whole community in areas of food security, peace and harmony in the families, getting children for an education and building capacity to become self-sufficient individuals. As the director of YEFOFO said when I asked him what motivates him to offer his whole life into projects such as this, his reply was simply "God is not about poverty, but abundance for all. What else should I do but make that happen?" Profound words lived out by action.

It was a very long day, full of things to think about. I so regretted that the connections were not made earlier that would have allowed me time to go and see this community of women. But the story is inspiring!

Monday, March 1st - part 2

2010-03-12T02:29:00.013-05:00

I'm back again with some internet so will try to catch up!

First, let me clarify who the Leonard was that met me at the airport and will be my guide through this time in Tanzania. He is the Rev. Dr. Leonard A. Mtaita, General Secretary of the Christian Council of Tanzania. He is the one who works closely with Wendy Girichu of our United Church's Justice, Global and Ecumenical Relations Unit on matters of partnerships. This picture is of him, his wife and one of his daughters.

The Workers Training Centre as it is more commonly known is formerly called the Bishop Kisanji Women Training Centre, Morogoro (MWTC). It was developed in 1979 for the purpose of empowering women from member churches to acquire knowledge and skills to participate effectively in the life of the church, family and community at large. It is a self-accounting unit of the Christian Council of Tanzania. Its current goal in the 5 year strategic plan is to extend the empowering of women beyond church women, focusing on gender issues, entrepreneurship, peace and reconciliation, budget tracking, advocacy skills and HIV/AIDS.

It was so pleasant to walk through the large garden area where currently plans are to expand the food production of the facility to not only teach skills but to move towards sustainability. I saw lots of maize (corn) banana trees (picture), oranges not yet ripe, mango trees, potatoes, spinach, and much more. This facility operates as a general conference centre for faith and civic organizations with accommodations available for a maximum of 60 people within their own communities and able to pass on skills and knowledge. (I since learned that many of the participants are the wives of the pastors and administrators within the various churches. As is still the norm in many church cultures, the wives are expected to work for the church and its impact on the society when their husbands became ministers/pastors. Leonard noted to me that there were very few women in ordained ministry within the various ecumenical partners. He made it a notable norm to introduce me with an emphasis on the "Rev" and that made for some interesting looks from men that were different to my experience from the interesting looks from the women.)

But I believe the heart of the Centre was indeed in the small rooms with sewing machines, embroidery materials and in the kitchen where batik dyeing takes place. The purpose is to not only teach transferable skills but to teach the women how to teach others. Those women then would be able to begin the process of improving their lives and the lives of their families. Talking about these courses that were taught at the WTC put a very different perspective on the multitude of women that I saw along the roadside, sitting with a handful of products just waiting for someone to buy from them. Each product represented an improved sense of well-being, a choice about some small element of their life and an improved future for their children. Somehow I personally sense many Canadians have lost all touch with the importance of such things that are mass produced in our society. Perhaps one of the places we Christians can be directly helpful is with the strong support and continuous support of fair-trade both in our homes and in our churches. It may cost us a little more per cup of coffee or for a Christmas gift but what a significant difference it makes to each and every mother involved in places across the world.

The United Church of Canada through their Mission and Service funds, helps to sustain this unique training centre. Like the new administrator, I too see great potential for growth both through new programming and through building additional accommodations. After all, the empowerment of women in a society can only lead to positive outcomes in society, family, community and individual.

Before supper, General Secretary Leonard and some staff members and I had a good conversation about the nature of training in Canada, the state of our respective churches and the challenges that face both countries. Then off to a communal meal which was followed by a quiet conversation outside with the director and myself. That night was a very restful sleep under the mosquito net and with the warm breeze through the window.

Monday, March 1st

2010-03-04T13:31:00.016-05:00

Gaining access to the internet will be problematic - will post as I can!

Morning came and so did the rain. Juma, our consistent taxi driver was at the door at 7:30 am as arranged to take me back to the airport in Entebbe. The morning rush in Kampala was in full force. Vehicles swerved puddles now in addition to each other, Boda-Bodas and pedestrians. By the time we managed to get out of the city proper, the rain was dissipating and the women were getting busy doing laundry on their front porches. With a fairly wet week behind, I could only imagine how long it will take them to do the family laundry all by hand. By the time we neared Entebbe, the laundry was hung on many lines. I enjoyed looking at the sights that I only saw in the dark on my journey in last week.

The flight to Tanzania boarded smoothly and landed early, though I was unaware of this fact. I got my Visa, cleared customs and exited but the person who was to pick me up was nowhere in sight. Suddenly I had a sinking feeling because I realized how poorly I had prepared the details of this connection, knowing only that I was to meet Leonard who was the Secretary General of the Christian Council of Tanzania. No phone number, no address, no last name. I had several taxi drivers trying to convince me that they knew Leonard and his office and that I should go with them. I stayed put, prepared to wait for an hour or so to see if he would show up. And that he did, right on time. Only then did I realize we had gotten in quite a bit early courtesy time changes! It was a truly joyous greeting.

It was hot! About 35 C. Sweat began to pour instantly but thankfully the truck we were to travel in was air conditioned. The city, Dar Es Salaam was congested and the traffic just inched along. They too had had rain earlier and deep puddles filled the sides of the otherwise nice road. Industrial activities lined the streets, vendors of everything imaginable sat with their wares and pedestrians darted in and out of the nearly parked vehicles. After about 45 mins and having moved only half way through the city, our driver decided to take some short cuts so I was able to see the city life away from the main arterial road. Some things didn’t change – laundry was hanging on the lines, children in uniforms were going to school, and people were moving about doing the business of the day.

As we got past the City, the landscape began to change. There was increasing evidence of local farming, with baskets of potatoes, peppers, beans, onions, mangoes and pineapples available at the roadside. This was the end of the season for some of the fruit and the locals are hoping the drought conditions experienced by many parts of Africa will not become their reality. Talk of climate change permeates the discussions of local sustainability.

When I inquired about the greatest challenges he sees for his people, Leonard was quick to answer that the significant death rate of children under 5 to malaria and the death of pregnant women due to a lack of health facilities and education were primary in his ministry. I heard the sadness in his heart and his determination to stand i solidarity with the women. .

We drove through a natural reserve for baboons, two of which crossed the road indifferently with traffic going in both directions. Shortly after we stopped at a roadside restaurant for some lunch. It was buffet style of rices, potatoes, coleslaw, tomato salad, okra, collards and onions, a local fish and beef and chicken. I sampled most but really enjoyed the coleslaw and tomatoes!

After eating and having some bottled water, we carried on. Shortly the landscape changed again. In the distance appeared the Mongoro Mountains and in the foreground appeared rice paddies, pineapple and larger herds of cows. The soil changed from the red sand around Dar Es Salaam to a darker loam/clay. When worked properly, the land seemed to provide excellent market gardening conditions. Leonard advised me that Tanzania only has to import about 10% of its food, much of it being wheat. However, the lack of processing plants to store and package the food in season coupled with a lack of a food distribution network poses a great problem for year round food supplies.

About an hour later, we pulled into a sizeable complex which is a private Christian school servicing JK to end of High School equivalents as well as a translation program for missionaries who need to learn Swahili prior to placement somewhere in the region. It was a lovely place and it was nice to stroll under these huge old Baobab trees. Near the end of the stroll, we met a gentleman who had been teaching at this facility for maybe 30 years. Now retired, he continues to teach and help wherever he can. It was interesting to hear him describe the inroads that they were making with the contextualization of the gospel to the Masai people. These are the indigenous peoples of Tanzania that are often used in advertising for safaris etc. As the teacher went on to explain about contextualization, the Protestant churches (largely Lutheran and Mennonite) had started using milk for communion because that is the drink of the common people. Wine is unknown to them and posed a barrier to understanding the significance of these ordinary elements. Likewise, traditional dress has been openly welcomed at all services as is acceptance of all the members of polygamous families. These cultural sensitivities are allowing the Protestants to reach the Masai in ways that that others are not.

It was about 7 pm when we arrived at the Morogoro Women’s Training Facility. I was directed to nice self-contained room, complete with mosquito net! I freshened up and prepared to meet with the director of this facility. We started our time with a walk around some of the complex. This Training and Retreat Centre run by the Christian Council of Churches.... to be continued....

2010-02-28T11:26:00.003-05:00

Saturday, February-27-10

Today was a step into the culture in several ways. The rain had stopped and the temperatures had warmed. The afternoon was spent at the more significant cultural sites. First was The Kasubi Tombs which is the most spiritual and culturally significant site for the Baganda. These are the people of Buganda which is a kingdom in the south central region of Uganda. The sacred site is about 5 klms outside of Kampala. The king is called the Kabaka, a term still relevant in the society today. There were 37 named Kabaka that reigned from 1200 through to 1969.

The palace of Kabaka Muteesa was built in 1882 and the main building is the magnificent courthouse which was converted into the royal burial ground in 1884. This courthouse is built as a dome and is made entirely of organic material and with elaborate rings that adorn the ceiling. These rings represent the 50 Bagandan clans. This great hall is surrounded by a series of smaller circular huts which are even today occupied by the direct female descendents of the wives of the Kabaka and their role is to perform the sacred rituals and maintain the site. One of these descendents works in the United States but had come back to perform her duty. She invited us to sit with her for a moment in the great hall. It was a true honour for one could sense the regard and sacredness she brought into the space.
I was also fascinated by the various drums that are central to the Baganda people. The drums were shaped and decorated in various forms as symbols of power. Some are played with the human hand and some are played with sticks. There were a few drums in the great hall but most were in a small building which was built specifically to house the royal drums.

The history of the relationships between the Kabaka and the various white arrivals to Buganda make for much intrigue. The first were northern Moslems, followed by British Protestants and then Catholics. King Mukabya Muteesa I (1856 – 1884) welcomed these strangers, eventually learnt all three religions though did not embrace one over the other. He is the one who negotiated Buganda to become a British Protectorate rather than a colony. His was a peaceful time of building relationships which did not consistently continue with subsequent Kabakas.

The next stop on our journey was Namirembe Cathedral of the now Church of Uganda. It was built by the Anglican community in 1919 to replace the original thatched roofed building that was hit by lightening in 1910. Perched on top of the Namirembe Hill, it has magnificent vistas of the city of Kampala. The old mango and palm trees graced this site which also housed the cemetery of the early martyrs and bishops. I was disappointed that the site was locked for I always enjoy looking at old gravesites.

When we arrived into the Cathedral, the choir was practicing. I sat down in the very long nave and listened to the obvious Lenten pieces they were practicing, though I could not understand the words. It was a wonderful contemplative moment. Out of respect for the work the choir was doing, I did not take any pictures of the inside of the Cathedral. I was however, able to note the drum kit in one corner, several screens and projector stands and a multitude of mics hanging from the very tall ceiling. I was far less surprised by the integration of new technologies here compared to my first experiences of that in Bethel Church in Barbados where I was a theological student intern. I am sensitive to such technological integration because of the divergence of opinion and practice back in Canada.

From this Cathedral we proceeded to the earliest Catholic church on Rubaga Hill which is one of the other hills that surround modern day Kampala. What a pleasant surprise to see a wedding in progress. We had a quick discreet tour which felt a little uncomfortable to me given the ceremony. But it didn’t seem to bother the tour guide who almost literally took me by the hand as soon as we entered. Though distracted by the people, their traditional clothing and events unfolding, we did see the tomb of the first Catholic martyrs, the various plaques, and pull for the 2 sets of steeple bells – one set for joyous occasions including the wedding in progress and the other reserved only to proclaim the death of a pope.

Travelling from the ancient sacred sites and through the Christian sites, we now stopped at Kabaka’s Twekobe Palace built in 1884. In 1966, the then current Kabaka was driven out of that palace by Idi Amin, whose controlling army occupied that site until 1993. The palace itself has only recently been given back to the people and is in the preliminary stages of architectural restoration. The 600 hectares of land surrounding this once royal palace continues to be occupied by the many descendents of the royal families and their various facilities such as schools.

Certainly the most disturbing feature on this acreage is the underground torture and execution chambers constructed by Idi Amin. The experience of looking into these chambers was made even more powerful and disturbing given our guide. Robinson is the young man who has agreed to act as an interpreter for the oral history that my son is trying to access while in Uganda. Robinson’s interpretation of the writings on the walls and the sombreness of his description of the execution methods left me deeply troubled. The sacredness of this place was palpable to me and was created simply by the fact that so many died in terror.

Having walked through a brief but moving history of the people of Buganda, it was time for some supper. We were joined by the Robinson as well as a young man from England, Aiden who is also working on his PhD. We gathered at a local Ugandan restaurant and I was blissful in the wonderful and varied conversations. Robinson shared details of his family and village life and gave a context to the village wide celebration of the completion of his university degree two weeks ago. My son had been invited to that celebration and shared some more stories from his perspective on the ride home. We talked about the increasing suspicion of NGO’s (non-governmental organizations) and the counterpoint of our Canadian/British societies’ ability to travel where most average Ugandans never even think about such things given their daily struggle to survive and feed their families. Once again, a very poignant reminder of my privileges that comes with relative wealth. I find these conversations equally life-giving as they are deeply challenging.

2010-02-28T11:25:00.001-05:00

Friday, February 26/10

The day began with a cool drizzle. This last week has been uncharacteristically cold and wet for this time of year in Uganda…the Boda-Boda drivers are in winter jackets and most people stay home when the rains hit. Cold of course is relative but rain and temperatures of 20 C seem to constitute cold. Even I felt it and got wrapped in a sweater while spending the morning trying to connect with the Women’s Network. I had purchased a new cell phone and pay-as-you-go plan for $30 Cdn equivalent and was trying to make my way around a new phone as well as figure out the phone number system. I confess that technology is not my best friend to begin with.

By the time 2 pm came along I gave up trying to connect directly with the Women’s Network though emails were going through our United Church General Council Offices and the Kairos office on my behalf. I am so grateful for their efforts and I am confident that I will be able to make arrangements for when I return to Uganda in 2 weeks. My interests in their work are even more peaked now with the recent events of the new Women's movement here and the Women’s Economic summit that was held here in Kampala a few days ago.

It was still raining in the afternoon and that curtailed any sense of adventure I had. I curled up and read some of the local history books that my son had found – one on small agricultural viability in the mid -20th Century and one on the many kingdoms that make up what we know as Uganda. The later one in particular was fascinating given the political tensions that are increasing today between historic powers ahead of the 2011 general elections.

Thursday, February-25-10

2010-02-26T03:37:00.005-05:00

Today I ventured into the city by myself. Too insecure to ride on a BodaBoda (a motorcycle that weaves in and out of traffic thus making it truly the quickest way to get around), I resorted to the less exciting mode of a taxi. The night before, my son and I had gone to a wonderful Indian restaurant and used the same taxi driver both ways. Having made arrangements to call him for a ride, he delivered me to the city and back with no problems and no need for me to explain how to get back to this apartment via roads that snake and weave up the incline. The taxi driver’s name is Juma and his wife works in the local cooperative craft store. They have one son, age 5 and one daughter, age 3. I hope to understand more of his life as I continue to use him for my escapades.

I wandered in the Craft Store complex that operates like a cooperative. In one store or stall, I met a woman who seemed eager to talk about the strength of African women. Always wanting to gain other people’s insights, we had a good conversation that covered family life, politics and poverty. She alerted me to the women's protest that occurred earlier that day at the Parliament building. As part of the “400 Days” campaign, women across Uganda are demanding an overhaul of the Electoral Commission ahead of the upcoming elections. The cover story of one of the local newspapers, Daily Monitor, provided a picture of the women with their black T-shirts that read “Women for Peace”. Today’s protest remained calm, unlike the one on January 18th where 35 women activists were arrested, beaten, and tortured with dogs according to The Independent – Uncensored News, Views and Analysis (Issue 096). (kind of like our Maclean’s weekly magazine). Key organizers of this movement are calling upon the women of Uganda to get together and pray for a free, peaceful and fair general election. Alongside prayer, the organizers are encouraging women to register for the vote and use their voice within the political system.

After that most stimulating conversation and thankful for this woman’s generosity of time and spirit, I went to ‘One Thousand Cups’ a wonderful little café where they grind the coffee beans by hand to make a rich pressed cup of java. Looking over the 8 varieties of coffee grown in Uganda, I choose a coconut flavoured bean. I settled into an oversized bamboo chair with an excellent view of the street below and did what nourishes me the most at times – watching people while sipping a good cup of coffee. It had been raining, so the streets were trickling with mud the colour of the red sands of Prince Edward Island. Water pooled in the potholes of the street, creating a terra cotta dappled canvas that people and the BodaBodas weaved around. One thing I noticed quickly was the relative young age of the people on the streets. Nearly 25% of Uganda’s population is under the age of 20 – they have experienced a post-war baby boom just like Canada did after WWII. I wondered what effect such a large component of the population born during independence from colonialism will have on the future directions of this beautiful country.
It seemed very much in that moment a question of watching anything which grows up with its wonders and mistakes. Unlike me and those born and raised in relative peace and stability, many people are rooted in a history of tremendous struggle and violence. It is no wonder that women are becoming more and more a voice for peace in countries around the world. Women seem to focus on nurturing a future past the scars of their own histories and want to see their children and grandchildren have a different life.

Tomorrow I hope to make contact with the African Women’s Economic Policy Network (AWEPON) which is located in Kampala. AWEPON is a Pan African faith based non governmental organization. AWEPON is a network of over 150 organizations in over 18 African countries with the secretariat legally registered in Uganda. The network works towards achieving economic justice through strengthening the capacity of African women at the grass roots and national levels to understand trade and business issues and influence the shape of economic policy. (see link for more details on AWEPON).

This is a critical time for AWEPON for it relied heavily on the support of KAIROS our Canadian Justice organization and critical partner of The United Church of Canada. In an unexpected decision late last fall, Stephen Harper’s government refused to renew a longstanding substantial grant for KAIROS. The impact of that sudden decision has thwarted the research and advocacy work of KAIROS, the justice work throughout the mainline Christian communities who relied on the research conducted by KAIROS and the stability of global partners such as AWEPON (see link for more details on KAIROS). I hope to meet with AWEPON tomorrow or at least set up a meeting for when I return to Uganda. To hear first hand the impact of this funding loss on global partnership networks will be a difficult but critical learning to bring back to my ministry in Canada.

Wednesday, Feb. 24

2010-02-26T03:32:00.004-05:00

Though it was a late bedtime, I awoke at 5 am to the sounds from a local minaret calling the faithful to prayer. For 15 minutes, I listened to the melody of the invitation. It was soothing and created a moment of holiness. The experience left me thinking, even in my sleep deprived state about what we may have lost in the important work of respect for all religions. Eliminating the sounds of holiness by all somehow leaves a vacancy which may have its own consequences. Our Canadian context leaves no room for a soundscape that draws us on a regular basis towards something greater than ourselves and greater than the Empire we live. (I read later that day that Uganda is 85% Christian, 11% Islamic, a small percentage of Hindu, and pockets of animism mostly in the northern rural parts of the country. There is little or no friction reported between the Christian and Islamic peoples while post-independence political conflict often followed Catholic-Protestant lines.) In short, religious tolerance seems to have a different sound to it here in Uganda compared to back home in Ontario. Perhaps this is another element of creating society that we need to learn from our brothers and sisters around the world.

That early morning pondering about the sounds of holiness was quickly refocused by the sounds of animals ‘singing’ (like wolves in the Rockies kind of sounds). This was followed by roosters crowing, birds beginning to chirp, then dogs barking and soon the first of the traffic in the city. It was the early morning and the different sounds kept this sleepy traveler up for awhile!

Kampala is built in the valley between a series of peaks and a lush green space that leads to the northern reaches of Lake Victoria. This lake shares its shoreline with the Congo, Kenya and Tanzania. The apartment my son has rented for a few months is on the slope of one of those peaks on the north east side of the City and affords a decent view of this pretty geography. Most of my day was spent resting with those views and reading the local papers to get a little sense of what was on the minds of the ordinary people and their government.

Tuesday, February 23

2010-02-26T03:28:00.002-05:00

>I am not sure whether Old Man Winter came just to test my “cutting it too close for comfort” preparations or to provide a counterpoint to the very warm weather that was going to await me upon my arrival in Uganda. Regardless, winter created more than a nuisance with the drive and at Pearson Airport. Our KLM flight crew was stuck in traffic and late to arrive. We boarded about ½ hour late and then queued up for a de-icing process which made us another 45 minutes late in departing. Looking at the snow and ice building up on the wings of the plane while we waited our turn made me ever so grateful for the technology that would make us safe through the dark night journey!

The rest of the flight to Amsterdam was uneventful and I had sufficient time for my connection for the flight to Entebbe, Uganda. The second leg of the journey was quite fascinating since the sky was clear and our flight path took us southward through the centre of Europe. The Swiss and Austrian Alps are magnificent from the air with their snow-capped ruggedness and snake like rivers. At that altitude there was no evidence of the human footprint which means that the canvas before me was purely a showcase for creation. With the beauty of snow and rock fading, a ribbon of human settlements started to unfurl. These villages or towns hugged the cream pink sand as it met the azure blue of the Mediterranean Sea. This was the eastern coastline of Italy. Creation certainly is beautiful, be it under the water, feet firmly planted on the ground or up in the sky!

As the southern flight path continued, we came upon a flat and mostly brown landscape marked by thin blue ribbons of water which I took to be the far reaches of a much larger water coarse, likely the Nile River. A quick look at the on board flight tracker told me that we were crossing Dafur. My heart sank and I became agitated… first, in recognition of the horrors of starvation that the people of this land outside my window have endured in the last decades; and secondly, I became acutely aware of my costly ecological footprint up here in the sky. Only unbalanced wealth can provide comfort for our desires while others suffer in need. What good were the tears that rolled down my cheek other than to mark this cruel reality?

My sombre mood dissipated as we began the descent to the Entebbe airport in Uganda. Stepping off the plane was cause for shedding the sweater that I had worn for the trip – it was 8:30 at night and the temperature was 25 degrees Celsius! The snow and ice back home seemed a distant, sleepy memory. Visa to purchase, immigration to get through and there waiting was my very adult son. A mother’s heart was happy again! I noted however the strange role reversal – he knew his way around, he arranged the taxi in the people’s native tongue, he looked so at ease here in a very different culture. It doesn’t seem that long ago, my five year son looked out a bus window watching the children playing with a rag ball and a stick in the vacant lot of a small town in the Dominican Republic. That was the first time of many where the ‘why’ question was asked that rose from a perception of differences within the common human state.

The ride from Entebbe, the historic capital of Uganda to Kampala, the now capital city was about 1 hour. The smells of the tropics, the nightlife along the strips of small bars and stores where people gathered in the cooling evening air, the billboards, the packed taxi vans, the multitude of small motorcycles, the architecture – all these sounds and smells and sights touched a familiar place in me. Much reminded me of the villages and cities in the Caribbean and Mexico where I have worked in one capacity or another. The familiarity hidden in the darkness of this last leg of my trip was pleasant and inviting and made the 30 hours of traveling more than worthwhile!