Traveling with the bishop: Muleba, Tanzania

The bus ride down from Kampala Uganda to Bukoba Tanzania, seemed short and painless. Most of the time I was immersed in Kidnapped, which found in Kampala. I walked off the bus, and like whipped cream Bishop Jackton Lugamira stepped out of the crowd a few meters away with his purple shirt and his big smile. He had brought the whole family to the bus station to meet me: Josephine his wife, Fathili his son, and his daughter whose name I never quite memorized. He then headed out of the Bukoba heading south through the banana and green tea fields, catching up...them asking about friends in Philadelphia and I telling them about my adventures thus far.

We drooped down off the tarmac road after about 45 minutes on to a rough dirt road where they were still constructing the road. Then half and hour later we jolted into Muleba...the small town were the bishop lives and where the diocesan offices are. The bishop's house had a modest wall around and a gate which the driver jumped out and opened to let the mini van into. Bp. Jackton is currently renting his house as he makes plans to build a permanent one. The house has a nice living room with several couches and a TV in the corner...two exposed light bulbs hang from the ceiling are the room's light. A small hallway leads to the guestroom adjacent to small bathroom which is adjacent to the kitchen. I am currently staying in the guestroom which as electricity, a double bed, and mosquito net. I take bathes out of a red plastic basin filled with warm water carefully placed on top of the toilet and use a large measuring cup to rinse.

I have got a little routine going on, now that I've been here almost a week. Wake with sunrise, brush teeth from a water bottle, prayers, a breakfast (toast, instant coffee, papaya, porridge, and a hard boiled egg) then be whisked off to some meeting, church, or other visitation for the morning, have lunch out at where ever I am, sit through various meetings that inevitably are in Swahili (which I usually just have to sit through and daydream about whatever comes to mind), then I'm usually exhausted, come back home for an afternoon nap, take a walk around the neighborhood, take a bath, have a late dinner around 9pm, and chat with the family for a while and turn in to bed around 10. There it is.

I've really been enjoying my evening walks through acres of banana fields, then out along dirt roads, along the ridge of vast savanna plains, past mud thatched huts, and moving aside for the ringing of the bells of bicyclists on their way home from work. The sunset is beautiful and colors everything in a hue of gold and bronze, the blue sky fading from white to indigo blue, the crescent moon already high in the sky. I usually go with the bishop or his son Fathili, and we talk and muse about all sorts of things. Fathili, though he's 23, seems to be more like 19. He hasn't lived at home for more than a month since he was 13, so he barely knows his own family, and they treat him like a teenager. But I rarely meet someone so full of questions. We've talked for hours about witchcraft, virtual reality, US foreign policy, liberal theology, the Enlightenment, marriage, cultural identity, etc. He is very soft spoken and I often have to ask him to repeat what he's saying...he's very humble like his father, and he laughs a lot like his mother. It's quite relaxing to pass the gentle evenings outside and slowly watch the red dust stain my feet and sandals as we move along. There's no rush in Africa and extra time is one thing everyone has plenty of.

Last Friday I was asked to go with the bishop to a confirmation service in a parish and preach. That was quite fun. Fathili translated for me. The church floor was made of soft hay, which everyone just nestled down into when the sermon began. Then on Sunday I preached at the main church in Muleba near the diocesan offices. I was at first a bit disturbed at how unresponsive everyone seemed. I would try to make a joke and no one would move. At the end of the service they had all of these donations given by the congregation: pineapples, papaya, a thick stock of sugar cane...which were then auctioned off right there in the sanctuary. I was a bit surprised at this raw capitalism (the church wanted to have cash instead of a bunch of fruit). But I was shocked when someone in the congregation bought be three small eggs. They brought the plastic bag up to where I was sitting. I was surprised and amused. Then someone bought me three papayas, now I was quite impressed. Then someone bought me a pineapple. I was honored. I thanked the congregation, since I couldn't tell you in particular had purchased the fruit for me.

This morning I accompanied the bishop to a meeting of Christian teachers where the bishop gave a lecture on Christian education and the need to be committed to the gospel even when it costs you something. I kind of spaced out most of the time since the bishop was speaking in Swahili and my translator would only mention what he was saying every 5 minutes or so.

I'm in Bukoba now, and don't expect to be back near an Internet location in the next few days. Signing off.