The Eads to Tanzania

Green Mamba

Today after church, Pastor Paulo's family was sitting with us in our yard when one of the dogs started barking rather fiercely. One of Paulo's son's yelled, "Nyoka!" Snake.

Each of us with broomsticks in hand, Paulo and I ran over to one of the banana trees in our yard. There among the leaves was a Green Mamba, a very venomous tree snake that is distinguished by its brightly colored body. Paulo beat the snake to death. We took a few photos. We warned both Grace and Silas to run away from snakes and tell Mommy or Daddy if they see one. Then we threw it over the fence into the grass.

I will try to get our pictures up in our album in the next day or two, but here is a link for a brief explanation of the creature.

Going the Wrong Way

This morning we went on our weekly town run. Because of a couple of hang-ups, we were delayed on getting back home until after 3pm. 

I received a message from Abeli, one of the Bible Institute students, that his grandmother's brother had died and that the funeral was to be held this afternoon. The funeral was held at 1:00, so by the time we had gotten home from town I had already missed it. 

I called Abeli and asked him where he was at. He said he was still at the family gathering, and I told him that I was coming. The funeral was held in Kuzenza, a villiage that is a little distance away from where we live. I've been there twice before, and I thought I knew where Abeli's mother lived. So, I headed out by foot.

After finding myself at the last famliar landmark, I made a wrong turn. After walking a distance, I asked someone if they knew where Kuzenza was. They said that is was ahead, in the hills. This made sense with what I remembered, so I kept going. 

Two and a half or three miles later, I stopped to ask someone where I was at. They said I was in Butimba! I had gone the completely wrong direction.

So, I turned myself back around and began the walk back to that last familiar landmark. A car passed on the road and stopped. In the car was my language helper, Felix, who offered me a ride with him and his friends. I got myself on the right path and ended up in Kuzenza, now to look for Abeli and the family gathering he was at. I walked to what I thought was his mother's house, and began to ask people if they knew who Abeli was or if they knew of a funeral that had taken place today. It just happened to be that there were 2 funerals in Kuzenza today, which made for a little confusion. 

But, because of the help of a couple of bystanders, I found my way to a house with people gathered all around, more than two hours after I set out from home. I sat with Abeli for about an hour talking, shared my condolances with the family members, and then made my walk back home.

Fatigue and Renewed Enthusiasm

There have been two kinds of fatigue that we have experienced since we have been here in Tanzania. The first kind came in our early days here as we were trying to adjust to the many differences in language, culture, and daily living. We grew tired because everything was different. The second kind of fatigue I have more recently. It is growing tired because everything is the same. Day after day is filled with the task of learning the same language, of correcting the same repeated mistakes, of trying to grasp the same aspects of this culture that still are far from me. For as much progress as we can see, because of our labor, we still see that there is much progress that is needed. We've covered a lot of ground in adjusting here well, but there is still a lot of road ahead.

I haven't posted recently because, as I came to the close of each day last week, I was exhausted. Inwardly I had some discouragement and in seeking to overcome it, I only threw myself harder into my language labors. 

During the past two weeks, my meditation in my devotional time has been on the Sermon on the Mount. I was thankful that Jesus said there is a blessing for those who are poor in spirit, because I was sure feeling that way.

It wasn't that I didn't like living in Tanzania. I love living here. It wasn't that I wanted to go back to America. I would miss so much. It was just that I was getting tired.

Monday is our regular 'day off' from language studies and from our normal visitation schedule, but I decided that we would take Tuesday off as well to just be together as a family- to have time to relax and recooperate from our language labors. And also to have a little more time to reflect on the progress made and what lies ahead.

Wednesday morning, I found myself with renewed vigor, starting back into the same tasks, but with a renewed energy. I haven't posted on the blog this week (until today) because I have been ethusiastically occupied with study.

Language learning is mental work. Not so much physical activity. So, very easily, you can become mentally drained. Language learning isn't just learning to speak or understand a new language. It's learning to think a new way. Learning to think a new way is hard. It is a task that is always done better after a little bit of rest.

Language Learning and Sanctification

Language learning is probably the most difficult task that I have taken on thus far. The difficulty is not so much in the demands from day to day, but in the length of time that it takes (or that it will take) to master it.

So, now on to the title of this post. I've thought recently about a couple of parallels between language-learning and sanctification. (1) It's very difficult in both to see day-to-day progress. Try as you may, there is no real way to quantify how well you are doing at either occupation. (2) But, on occasion, God gives us the opportunity to see (or to contrast) our present state with earlier days. You find yourself remarking at the grace of God to see how He has given you the strength to overcome a particular sin. Or, in the case of language-learning, how He has given you the ability to successfully communicate in a way that you couldn't before.

There is another relationship between language learning and sanctification. God has given me language learning for my sanctification. It is language learning that God is using to humble me and remind me of my utter inability apart from him. Please pray that I would not only be prepared to minister linguistically but that I would be better apt to minister spiritually because of the lessons that I learn during this time.

Dreaming in Swahili

Last night I (Dan) had my second dream in Swahili. It was mostly just dialogue about random topics about the day (as much as I can remember). Because the language is such a part of my everyday life, it was only going to be a matter of time. I have always heard that that was a mark of progress in language learning. One more milestone, I guess.

Preaching in Swahili, Rounds 4 and 5

Thursday, I went to Nyakaliro to hear the students there preach. Round 4. I joined in with them and preached the message that I had done last month in Sweya, the parable of the unforgiving servant. It was another long day. Another day of 9+ hours of travel for 3 or so hours there, but the guys were a great encouragement in their comments about my sermon delivery improving. While I did go into the pulpit with a manuscript, I did not read it, and I preached a lot of it from memory.

Saturday, I preached again in Sweya. Round 5. This time I wrote my sermon out in outline form, like I would normally do when I am preaching in English. No manuscripted thoughts, just a remarkably bare outline. My text was Daniel 3, the account of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. I told the story, and then sought to draw out the main thought, "Utiifu wetu ni ibada yetu," Our obedience is our worship. God has given authority to our leaders, and when they instruct us to do what is right, we are to obey them for God's sake. But when they command us to do wrong, we must disobey them for God's sake. If our obedience is our worship, the question is, who are you worshipping?

Saturday was the first day that I have felt like I really preached, communicated feeling and not once thoughts. It was an exciting turning-point.

Glimpse of Everyday Life

Carrying her sibling to church
Originally uploaded by landrpeck99

We have a friend here in Mwanza that is a great photographer. He took several great pictures from the Easter celebration at the Sweya church. Here's one of them.

Not in the Dictionary

This is Jana.

I am at the stage in my language learning where, lately, in most of my interactions with Swahili-speakers, I am confirming meanings of words. Part of my 'language-learning lifestyle' has been to ALWAYS carry with me a small notebook and pen. My little language-learning notebook lately is maybe of more value to me here than a wallet (if I lost it, I would be in a world of hurt!). During the day-- whether I'm out visiting, at home listening to the radio, listening to a sermon or a conversation-- if I hear a word that I don't know, I try to write it down right away. Sometimes I have opportunity to ask people the meanings of these words, and other times I get out my Swahili-English dictionary when I return home.

My predicament as of late has been that my Swahili-English dictionary, 7 times out of 10, appears to be inaccurate. Granted, there are other possibilities, like the fact that I could be misspelling the words that I hear, or that I could be breaking up a word, or making 3 words into 1 word that does not exist.

I am always being reminded that Swahili in Mwanza is different (in pronunciation, meaning, and common usage) from the Swahili of other regions in Tanzania (like the coastal regions), and very different from the Swahili used in Kenya, Uganda, and other surrounding countries.

The other day, a neighbor was asking me about a rash of Silas' leg. I was using my Swhaili to try to explain what is was. She responded with a head nod and a word that I had not heard before. I wrote it down, and then later looked it up. The dictionary said 'small thin stick'. I was horrified, wondering if this neighbor thought that I beat Silas with a stick. I was pleasantly put at ease today to talk with a completely separate source that told me the meaning of this word was a kind of very normal rash here.

For Westerners, when we ask for the meaning of a word, we are often looking for an abstract definition (like what we would get in the dictionary). But in this culture, it seems more common to explain meaning by giving a relevant example from the context. Through this, I may be learning a big cultural lesson on how Tanzanians use 'indirect communication'. Often, I have left conversations wondering if the person was indirectly asking me for help, or revealing what they truly think of me or somebody else.