Kidnapping # 2 and 3

Does anyone really know where Timbuktu is? I would say most people don’t, but almost everyone knows that it is ffaaaaarrrrr. Well, Timbuktu is a city in Mali, here in Africa, not so far. So, instead of using Timbuktu to describe someplace that is very far, Tanzanians use a place called “Buza.” “Where is Buza?” you ask, I will tell you.

We were invited to our family’s house for the celebration house of our young brothers’ and sister’s first communion (Witness, James and John Mtenga). The first communion mass was amazing, first of all we were the only choir singing and so got to sit right up in front where we usually do, and watch all of the kids receive their First Communion. After the 4 hour mass, we led a procession outside, the entire packed and overflowing church following behind the First Communicans who were behind us. We sang and danced in the noontime sun to this house at the end of the street and waited there for the priest to arrive at the end of the entire procession. There we had Eucharistic Adoration for a few minutes and then did the same thing all the way back to the Parish Offices, waited a few minutes and then slowly went back into the Church. Once everyone was there, all of the children were given their own bible and rosary. By this time it was around 1:30 pm.

I ran home after our short meeting after mass and met the others ready to go to our first destination. We booked it to the Mtenga’s house and met them there with their house decorated with posters of Jesus and some small paper cut outs on the walls, Witness, James and John looked proud and were glowing when we congratulated them and shook their hands. We met some extended members of the family and were welcomed into the home just as we always are, as their own son and daughters. We get scolded by them as if we are their children and we are expected to participate in family functions as if we were their children.

As we were making small talk during the delicious lunch of pilau (spiced rice), I got into talking with the two uncles that were there about where they live. One said he lives in Mburahati, the town next to us, the other said he lives in Buza, its really far away, past the airport. The airport is used as a marking point, anything past the airport if worth a two day visit. I told him that I had never been there and he said we should come. Jokingly I said something like “of sure! We will come one day!.” And thus follows kidnapping number 3.

A few weeks ago, our friend Godi came over and told us that his uncle wanted us to come visit. We thought it was his uncle from Mburahati and so planned a day and knew it was going to be a somewhat long affair but would probably have some free time that day. We called Godi on the day of our visit and said that we would meet him at a place that was near Mburahati but he said that we were not going to Mburahati so we should go to his house first. Have you ever had that feeling that something is going to happen but you are afraid of saying it for fear that if you say it it will actually come true and if you don’t it won’t happen? This is what happened to me. In the back of my mind I was thinking that we weren’t going to Mburahati, that is too easy. I bet we are going to Buza. But I didn’t dare say anything because then it would actually come true. What foolishness, things like that come true even if you don’t say it out loud.

We met Godi and some of his siblings at his house, greeted his parents and then left for our long journey to Buza. We took the first dala dala (bus) to the end of the line, pushed and shoved our way through the crowd to find the next dala-dala which we also took to the end of the line. Then we walked. We walked until we were met by warm greetings from Godi’s uncle and aunt, saying that they were expecting us at 11 and it was now 1. We were quickly ushered inside and given much needed water to drink. We watched music videos from a choir for about 2 hours and then more music videos from other African Christian artists until we left.


We walked back up to the road and squeezed into a tiny dala dala that took us to the end of the line again and then another dala dala back to our home. On the way home we were informed that it was one of our friends birthdays and he was waiting for us at his home. We ran home, dropped our things off and ran to his house where he had an entire meal of more pilau waiting for us, just us. We sat with him, ate some more, drank some sodas and then also were fed the traditional birthday cake.

As usual, I had an amazing time that day. The day was long and full of surprises, but there were so many times during that day when I was awe-struck at the hospitality of strangers, at the beauty of friendship and family and at the sense of community that we have formed here. I oftentimes look around wherever I am and try to soak it all in. It is during these experiences, though tired, I constantly think of how blessed I am to be humbled by the people I know here. I don’t have words to express the joy I feel just sitting, talking and being with people. One major lesson that I have learned since being here is patience and flexibility. There was a point in my life where I would get upset if things didn’t go exactly as I had planned, I have come to learn that some of the next experiences in life come when plans go awry and when you just let loose and let yourself be, let yourself experience the pain of a situation by letting yourself be vulnerable, the joy of friendship when you spend hours and hours on end together, the beauty of the world when you pause in the midst of craziness.

I guess the name that I chose for my blog, “Live the Life You Love” still stands true for my experience here.