Saturday, November 29, 2008

I woke up this morning to the very wonderful news from Godfrey that the Minister of Education granted full registration and accreditation to Idigima Secondary School! Idigima is the school that we opened in early 2007 in the little village of Idiwili in the region of Mbeya. I know that the celebrations in that village for the 492 kids who are students at that school will be massive. My eyes filled involuntarily with tears as I read Godfrey's email. We had mapped a few days ago out our strategy, our wonderful battle plan -- he would drive from Madisi across the country to meet me and Jonathan Wednesday night when our airplane would land in Dar, and then Thursday morning Godfrey and I (and Jonathan!) would go to the Ministry of Education and then while Godfrey would try hard to push the papers from one office to another, Jonathan and I would work on knocking the easier things off of Godfrey's "to do" list in town. I knew it had to be done, but just because it would have to be done didn't mean that I wouldn't be dreading it. I figured we would have to spend two or three days, or longer, in Dar as Godfrey would have to "do battle" in the maze of bureaucracy. To head for home with Jonathan quickly was of course my desire, but I had already braced myself for what I saw as inevitable. Instead, the battle was won even before we arrived in Dar to fight it out! A friend deep in the recesses of the bureaucracy had made the phone call to let Godfrey know that it was all over even before the fight began. I remember the first time it was pointed out to us rather slyly that there was an "easier" way, that other people had found that rather than paying hotel bills and spending expensive days in the big city, that money could be better spent making things happen "faster". We resolved in the beginning that we would simply never do that, we didn’t want to participate in the destruction of the country, we didn’t want to violate our ethical principles, we didn’t want to take the "easy way out", we simply would never pay in order to supposedly save time. Well, all the money in the world thrown around here and there at everyone couldn't have resulted in the battle being won the day before we even arrived in Dar! Makes me smile to think of it!

The better news came a little later in the day, this time from Susan. It didn't sound like good news at first though that's for sure. Huruma had broken down and as I read her words my heart sunk because I knew that Susan would be just sick. If one of our trucks breaks down or if one of the cars breaks down, that's sad, but we can live with it. All the trucks are transporting after all is cement or metal roofing and if it's a day or two or ten days late it's not the end of the world. But Huruma doesn't carry cement, Huruma carries people, sick people, people who have to get to the hospital, people who are on Susan's list who can't wait until tomorrow. Every night Susan puts the names into the list in the computer, Abeli has to make sure they get on the bus, Redford has to make sure he gets them to the hospital and then back home at night. Thirty, forty, sometimes as many as ninety people who depend upon the free transport that we offer to those who need to get to Lugoda Hospital to get the ARVs that keep them alive. Other vehicles can break down but not Huruma. ARVs mean life, to miss taking them is life-threatening for people on the brink. But Susan, who really must have been just sick when she first got word, wrote that Emmanueli had arranged with one of his friends to loan us his bus that normally runs commercially from Kibao to Mafinga. Instead it went to Lugoda to get Susan's friends from the hospital and return them home, to spend the night in our village and then in the morning to take all of those on the next day’s passenger list to get to the hospital. Emmanueli, with his infectious smile, the guy who knows everyone, who is liked by everyone (as they say, if you don't like Emmanueli, there's something wrong with you), was able to make a phone call and ask for a favor, not for himself, not for his wife, not for his kid, but a favor for those who were sick and who we're helping to get to the hospital. Susan wrote me all about it and ended her story with four words. We are indeed rich. I can’t stop thinking about that. Yup, we are indeed unfathomably rich. There are some things that truly all the money in the world can't buy. Emmanueli, the young man who was never supposed to go to school, who became our student, who today juggles being head of personnel of our school system, who drives Mwanume (our big dump truck), who loves what he does and is convinced it’s his call from God, he is wealthy beyond measure, his life enriched with a huge circle of friends, one of whom was ready to do us a priceless favor.

And as if those emails weren't enough to bring me joy as I prepare for my trip, I also got Godfrey's email telling me of what he had talked about to the students at Memya Secondary School on his recent trip there.

He first reminded them of what they all knew to be true. That many of them were there at that school because of someone had come to their villages with the incredible news that there was, in the village of Mpwapwa, a school, a very amazing school, a school that took the students who are known as "the unchosen ones". A school built for all those whose names didn't come out on the official government list, for all those who had been that they would never get to go to secondary school. A school that didn’t cost $400 or $600 or even $800/year, a school where the fees were only $110/year! (A bargain big enough to make people have hope that it might be possible, but still a fortune for people in villages.) A school that was connected to hundreds of good people far away who were paying $75 of that money so that any girl who came only needed to pay $35 . A school where you didn't have to come to school with cash in the hand, where your parents could come with what they had and then the next month bring a little more, a school where even if you had nothing, you could come first and then they would figure out later how you would pay. They were all getting a good education, something that even some children of the rich don’t get.

And after reminding them of all that, Godfrey invited them to think for a moment of the incredible blessing they were receiving and then to look around them and to remember that there were students among them whose parents had no way to help them, others whose parents had already died, some who were trying to juggle going to school and helping their younger brothers and sisters to also go. And then he challenged them with the idea that it would be the wonderfully Christian thing to do if they would organize themselves, go on a Saturday, ten, fifteen of them, go to work in someone's field as day-laborers, make as a group the money and bring it to the Headmaster and get a receipt to pay the school fees of someone they knew who was struggling more than they were. Work, he told them, in order to be generous, in order to do something extravagant and wonderful, work in order to help someone else as a way of showing that you know how blessed you yourself are.

Wow.

Yes, I am thrilled for the registration of the school. Certainly, I am thrilled for the way that Emmanueli arranged for us to have a bus to take care of all of those who must get to the hospital. But right now my heart is beyond thrilled to hear of what Godfrey, the man who was my student years ago, was able to share with our students. I cannot help but be touched by the generosity of those who continue to give incredible sums of money, month after month, so that we can make sure that every child gets to go to school. But today I am really touched to think of Godfrey visiting that school and organizing those students to look amongst themselves to see the kids who are the poorest amongst them, those who are in the most dire of need, and to encourage them to help someone else. To see the man Godfrey has become enriches my life. I'm sitting here suddenly realizing that if Godfrey had never come to school, or if when his father died we had simply allowed his life to slip through the cracks, it’s not just Godfrey who would have lost out, I too would have lost out. I would not be nearly as rich as I am today.

Susan said we are rich. How right she was.

I’m going to Dar hand-carrying the papers for a container that cost thousands of dollars to ship, completely paid by a wonderfully generous businessman, full of library books for our students, whose value I cannot even begin to fathom, all given by people here in America, books we could never afford to purchase, books which will end up in the hands of kids in these villages who would never dream of having books. Unfathomable wealth.

I’m going to Dar to bring the last of the papers that need to be filed to get the residency permits for those coming in January to serve with us. We could never afford to pay "a salary" to anyone to come teach in one of these villages, let alone the "hardship allowance" anyone coming to teach with us as a "job" would require. And yet these people and the more than sixty who have already come have all come simply volunteering their services. The wealthiest private school in the country could never have a large enough budget to hire such a staff! We are indeed unfathomably wealthy.

I’m going to Dar to sit down with Godfrey and Emmanueli and to tell them the great news of all those in America who have come together as a team to volunteer their services to make VSI function professionally, who have joined together to do it all working as volunteers, linked together by the internet, working out of their homes doing everything that a “home office” of a charity is supposed to do, but doing it all without pay. And doing it so that the money that people give to build classrooms, and to help girls go to school, and to meet the needs of widows and orphans and those sick with AIDS will end up going to do just that. They’re not just doing some job – they’re giving of themselves. Some things truly are priceless.

I’m supposed to be packing, but I’ve been sitting here thinking of wealth and money. Jesus talked a lot about money. It’s coming into focus now for me the obvious -- that most of the things that He taught about money run totally contrary to what you learn in an economics class at the university. Better to give than to receive? Store up your treasurers in heaven, now that's a good one! Paul wouldn't have done all that well preaching on Wall Street (or on Main Street for that matter) with his command to "work so that you can give to those in need". I've just spent the last three weeks in the most fabulously wealthy country on earth, I have lacked for nothing, I've driven on paved roads over magnificent bridges, I've been in a place where there is electricity and running water, running hot water, and where even those who are considered poor have more than the kings of old. And in the middle of all of that incredible wealth, I have the scene that will stick in my brain of Jonathan putting his hand in mine and telling me that he's happy to be going home to Tanzania … because he misses seeing the stars at night. I suspect the kid misses his mom as well, and that brother of his too, but I’m glad that he misses standing out at night in our village and looking up at the sky at the zillions of stars that seem so close that you can just reach out and touch them.

Susan was right. We are indeed rich.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

There are times when my heart fills with such joy I think it might burst. And when it is because of my own students, it makes the hours in the classroom all worth it. Really, English grammar isn't, I imagine a coveted subject to teach anywhere – but it is in the classroom where we meet our kids – the future. Muza is one of those great kids, one that all the teachers love. He's brilliant, cheerful and helpful. What all the other teachers don't know is that his parents both have AIDS and really live in difficult circumstances. Like many of our students, Muza has a "job" with me to make money to cover his school fees and to take care of a few of his basic needs. For the last couple of months though I've been noticing that the money that I was paying him just didn't seem to cover the expenses like it used to. How come he didn't have money for soap? How come he seemed to be lacking a lot of the little things that I knew the money used to be enough to buy? A bit of a mystery. Well, last week the mystery was solved because when I was in his home village visiting his family, his mom took me to the back of their small house to show me the pig that Muza had purchased for her. It seems that he had been saving every shilling that I gave him to cover his basic needs so he could purchase a pig for his mom. His mom said that Muza wanted them to raise pigs so that they could replace the thatch with metal roofing. And they are going to be able to do just that….

Then there is the lovely Laitha. Again, another great student. Many months ago, Laitha approached Miss Sarah our biology teacher with the question, "Could I get AIDS from living with someone with AIDS?" What Laitha had purposed in her heart was to live with the young widow Eliza who not only has AIDS but also has five children, the youngest (2 years old) also living with AIDS. Laitha wanted to help this young woman carry her burden. My heart soars with pride when I see our own kids not only wanting to help those here with the greatest of needs, but when I also see them breaking down the fears that have led to the death of so many people in these villages. Laitha lives with Eliza to help her with the children and it is wonderful to see other girls, with the same spirit, help Laitha care for this family in practical ways – carrying water, helping to finding firewood, weeding the gardens.

What I have come to see is that the response to AIDS in Africa starts with me. It starts with us -- those who live daily with those infected. Our response to AIDS is reflected right back to us. If we show fear or shock or shame, it looks right back at me, and there can be no doubt that it is fear and shock and shame that has led to the death of so many innocent people. If we show hope, hope shines on their faces and it brings life to their dying bodies. And if we show love, that love shines back and spreads to those around them. I've come to see that the response to AIDS starts with me. It starts with us. And that's what I keep telling those who serve here.

The response is being reflected in the actions of our students.

And it is also being reflected in the actions of our teachers. Veronika is one of those teachers whose actions speak loudly. Often she travels with me as I visit those infected or affected by AIDS. One family in particular broke her heart. The Ndanzi family. First it was the father, then the mom, then four year old Adela and finally the baby, who we discovered were infected – the entire family of four. Two months ago we lost the father to liver failure; then two weeks later the 4 month old succumbed to a cough that never went away. Now there is four year old Adela and Mom left who both take the ARVs to live. Vero looked at me and asked, how can she possibly live? The truth is that our friends here have a double problem – AIDS plus abject poverty. Now Vero has always been industrious. In addition to teaching, she has quite a number of small businesses, one of which involves purchasing large quantities of sunflower seeds and turning them into cooking oil. She decided that day to give part of her business to Mama Adela. She gives Mama Adela the oil to sell and then tells her to keep all the profits to take care of herself and little Adela. A perfect business for a widow with AIDS and a small child -- people come to her door to buy the cooking oil. Really, to have co-laborers in this work like Vero is an answer to prayer. The problem of AIDS in these villages is a problem that is close to overwhelming and as I tell them we are all needed to help in whatever way we feel God leads us to get involved. I remember the day Vero told me that what she has learned from serving people with AIDS in this community is that helping others isn't just something for the wealthy, it is something that every single Christian can and should do. And so she has been doing just that -- showing His love to others in very practical ways -- and involving more and more of her students in helping her.

Not every story has a happy ending. Just when it looks calm, it seems that TB breaks out here and there, or other disasters that I have never been trained to address appear. It breaks my heart all over again to even think about what just happened and to write and share with you about it. I so do pray that my friend Anisa can survive this one. On Sunday, her husband Justin greeted me first thing in the morning and informed me that his wife started swelling and scratching while she was working in her field on Saturday. I immediately scheduled her to go the hospital the next day to get help. He left, but a nagging thought prompted me to call him back and to give him antihistamines to reduce the symptoms until she could be transported. She had been on the ARVs for a few weeks and all was looking good. Some of my friends starting ARVs do have problems adjusting as it is harsh medicine. Often there are minor problems such as nausea, scratching, and some swelling until their bodies adjust. But I have learned that there is one reaction that can kill them – the Steven-Johnson syndrome. It doesn't happen the moment they start the ARVs but it pops up when least expected, and for Anisa I think it was that Saturday when she was out cultivating her field. Unfortunately, on Monday, our bus Huruma's water pump broke so it couldn't make the trip to the hospital. But there was a doctor who "just happened" to be passing through to see AIDS in our area, so I asked her to please go with me to visit Anisa. Sarah was also with me, and we all were shocked to find Anisa in the process of losing her skin. Anisa looked as though she had just been in a bad accident which had left her disfigured. But Anisa had been in no accident. It was her body was rebelling against a drug that it didn't want. The doctor confirmed that it was Steven-Johnson syndrome and recommended that she drink lots of water and to give her more antihistamines to reduce the symptoms. In our small part of the world hospitals are just far away. Later that evening, we returned to visit Anisa and to see her progress. The antihistamines had done their job and she was resting, but it looked bad. As we left, she kept telling us 'thank you, thank you for helping me." I couldn't help but think, that perhaps "our help" -- the ARV medication -- was going to kill her. We all prayed together. Then she also let us know that she was six months pregnant. It seemed as though everything that day was just getting worse. Today, she did make it to the hospital where she was immediately admitted. I have no idea of course what will happen. I have learned to remember that we will never have this under control – it is way too big and far beyond anything that I can handle. But God is still here in these tragic circumstances. And I stand in awe of my friends like Anisa who have peace in the midst of a terrifying turn of events.

Even though there are terrifying occurrences that take place, we are compelled to keep telling our people here about HIV/AIDS. And as people get better and share the news with others, our borders and service spread out. Last Friday, I found myself transporting a baby pig from the end of Mwefu to the far away village of Kilima Tembo. Before meeting the pig, I could only imagine the disaster of transporting this piglet along the mountainous roads to Kilima Tembo, the mess, noise etc. Yes, we "do pigs." We follow the Heifer Project model a bit. Basically, I give my friends a female piglet which they raise and breed. When the babies are weaned, I get one of the female piglets to give to another family. We have about 23 families of pigs in these villages now! I usually try and not handled the piglets, but in the case of this family, no one there can walk the long distance between the two villages. The mom, Noria, is handicapped by a knee that has swollen to double the size. I have sent her for treatment, but it is her hopelessness that breaks my heart. I was so hoping that she would be better, but there she was lying on boards, suffering from a pain in her head. As I tried to rub her neck and pray, tears washed down her face. This poor mom. Her child had to be given to other family members far away because she is simply too ill to raise him. Her husband has lost his job. He was fired from picking tea because he was too sick. Did they know that he has TB and AIDS? Did they care? Well they might not have a job, but now they've got a pig. And they have food. And I just want to 'will it' into them to "make it."

I find with Thanksgiving so close that I have so much to be thankful for. I'm thankful that I get to be here. I find myself praying for a cure. I think back to when polio was a scourge on the planet how there must have been those who in agony and sadness prayed that God would enable someone to find a cure. Please pray for a cure, that God would enable someone to find a cure. And thank you for helping us to help these people. May you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

In His service,

Susan Vinton

We didn't quite make it home last night and finally succumbed to the need for sleep a little after midnight and found a guest house in the nearby town of Mafinga where Godfrey, Jonathan and I caught a couple of hours of sleep before we continued on to Madisi. I came home after our three weeks in America to find out that Josh is now almost as tall as I am (see the picture of him with his mom), to find out that although our lake is nearly dry, it's not totally dry and the rains have started so it seems that we have made it through the dry season still having water in our homes here at Madisi, and to find out that Susan only got more beautiful while I was away! I got to see that the grass is turning green from the rains, and my eyes got to take in all of the flowers that are just starting to bloom, and tonight Jonathan will be able to look out and see his stars he missed while we were in America.

Before we got all the way home though, Godfrey and I listened in on a most historic event. James, one of my former students, now serving with us as Godfrey's assistant, has been in training these past eight months. He's been slowly working himself into handling well the job Godfrey and I gave him of leading the team of 18 project managers who oversee our building projects throughout the country. James decided to take advantage of a new special program the phone company has that allows you for a dollar and a half to organize a conference call with as many people as you want for as long as you want I guess until the batteries in your cell phones go dead. And so from villages throughout the regions of Rukwa, Ruvuma, Mbeya and Iringa, one by one, James pulled each of them into the network and then when they were all on board, each of them were able to share of their successes and their problems, give (and receive) advice, tell of their plans for the next couple of months. Godfrey, James and I were able in two hours to get a complete update on how things were going in all of our schools, and we were able to joke around, and encourage and enjoy each other's company a bit too.

James had taken the initiative, figured out how to make it happen, and then had coordinated the whole matter of bringing together of everyone. It made me happy to think of the historic nature of what they were doing and how it was James who had orchestrated it all. But it was an hour into James' conference call that as I listened to him guide them that I came to see just how much in the last eight months Godfrey has rubbed off on James. Faced with the report of the extraordinary speed with which Basili is leading the building program at Nankanga, James clearly reveled that they were now within striking distance of the goal -- getting enough classrooms, teachers houses and offices built by March so that the school could be accredited and our students there will be able to take the national exams. Basili had done a marvelous job under James' leadership. But in some sense he had done too marvelous of a job, and now they had run out of bricks. No one had ever imagined that this much could get built in such a short time and so they simply had not made enough bricks! They all know that money that people give to VSI is to be used to buy metal roofing and cement -- it isn't used to buy bricks. Everyone knows that policy, they all know the logic behind that policy, and they are all believers in that policy. There definitely was no whining during the conference call about changing the policy. Instead James was the first one to say that he was ready to pitch in $20 of his salary so Basili could buy bricks, and then quickly I heard one voice after another chiming in to offer $10, $15, $20. And fifteen minutes later they had collected $223. Now two hundred and twenty three dollars is a lot of money, my friends. We're talking about people contributing a quarter of their monthly salary, and they were doing it to help a school that they weren't even in charge of! I was so surprised and so happy that it wasn't until the whole thing was over that I realized that I didn't even manage to have the good sense to chime in that I would contribute something myself!

I'm home now, but I haven't seen James yet. I thought he would be at Madisi so I could tell him face to face how proud I was of him and the man and the leader that he is becoming. I just assumed the conference call was being arranged from our headquarters, but the reality is that James is off working at the school at Mtinyaki nearly 100 miles from here. He has become Godfrey's hands and feet moving this work along at an ever faster pace.

I was disappointed to not find James at Madisi, but I sure am looking forward to seeing him. I want to share with him with about how thrilled I am with all that he's been doing. I want to give him one of the six new laptops someone donated and that I hand-carried from America, and I want to help him see all the ways that a computer will help him do an even better job leading his team. But even more than that, I want to tell James how thankful I am that I got to be his teacher. Being a teacher normally requires having a lot of faith -- you invest in kids believing that they will do great things with their lives -- because seldom does a teacher get to see actually it. It no longer requires a lot of faith for me to teach. I'm so very lucky. I get to see what my students are doing with their lives. I get to see what James is becoming. He's not only blossoming as a leader and helping everyone else to perform well, he's trying new things, he's taking advantage of new technologies, he's bringing people to see the good that they themselves can do and he's helping them to rise to new heights, he's bringing them together as a team. Godfrey spent months with James, taking him everywhere, keeping him in his shadow, giving James the chance to see how Godfrey worked with people, how he talked through new ideas, how he encouraged people to excellence. Godfrey has done such a great job of training a new leader!

And so the time was now ripe today to tell Godfrey something that I have waited for months to share with him. I reminded Godfrey that it was in 1977, more than thirty years ago, that I first came to Africa. In that time I have heard of, and attended, and unfortunately even taught nearly uncountable seminars on training leaders. We all believe, or we say we believe, in training leaders. But if seminars produced leaders, we would have more leaders than this continent could ever productively use! To become a leader, though, James didn't need to go to a seminar or two or three. What he needed was to be with Godfrey. He needed more than to just have Godfrey talk to him about leadership, he needed to see Godfrey actually serving as a leader and then he needed Godfrey to take the time to talk to him about what he had been seeing so that his mind and heart could process it all. How many sermons have I heard and even preached myself about giving, about being generous, about using our blessings to fulfill the purposes of God in His programs? But if sermons could somehow produce generous people, we would be surrounded with them to the point of being overwhelmed by them! But James didn't need to listen to a sermon, he needed to be with Godfrey and have Godfrey not just talk to him about how we needed to spur each other on to love and good works, a but he needed to see Godfrey actually do it. Godfrey was growing leaders by letting them spend time with him. Investing his life in them would multiply himself so that work that he could never do by himself would be easily accomplished in villages throughout this country.

I trained Godfrey by living with him, and he has been training others by living with them and investing his life in theirs. And now James is out there spending a couple of days at each school living with those he is training to be leaders, training them by investing his life in theirs and letting them see him serve as a leader.

I am tremendously happy to be home. I am blessed with a most beautiful wife, she and I have been given a most wonderful task, we have been granted the privilege of working with a most incredible team of people. I am home. I am happy. I'm ready to work.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

During the last two weeks while Jonathan and I have been here in America, I've tried to force myself to concentrate on "being fully here". I've wanted very much to be focused on this place – and I've had plenty to occupy my thoughts! Jonathan's trip to Texas Children's Hospital for his check-up, the results of which were great; the VSI Board meeting, which I'm convinced was of great strategic importance; and all of the meetings at churches, in schools and with individual people, which I really have enjoyed as I've been able to meet new people and to share with them about "the big picture" of what the work that we believe God has given to us to do in Tanzania. But with Susan and Josh back there in Tanzania, and Godfrey's steady stream of emails, the truth is that while I find myself physically here in America there's an awful lot of times that my mind is wandering back to Tanzania. Last night my thoughts wandered back to one of Godfrey's emails earlier this week and I had to re-read it before I crawled into bed.

Mzee I was so sorry to write a couple of hours ago my very short message to tell you that Feneth and Mjukuu (our "little" dump truck which everyone calls "The Grandson") had an accident …

Godfrey's original message had been a brief one. It had to be that way. Fennet was in the little village of Idiwili working with our students to haul bricks, Godfrey was hundreds of miles away in the city of Iringa, and I was thousands of miles away half way around the world back here in America.

… But I am very happy to write to you now to tell you that I was able to talk to Feneth and can tell you that he is fine. He is more than fine Mzee so now you can have peace in your heart. When I told him that you answered my message with only three words "How is Feneth?" he was very touched in his heart. He said to tell you thank you for that and he will continue to say thank you to you for that. I told him that all Mzee wanted to know now is if Feneth's body was hurt. I told him that all I wanted to know now is what the doctors at the hospital said needed to be done. I do not think that Feneth could believe his ears. He kept trying to tell me that Mjukuu was not damaged badly but I kept telling him that what we wanted to know now was to know the total truth of what in his own body was hurt …

I was glad that Feneth was touched as Godfrey said in his heart. Feneth is universally loved. We first made contact with him when he was working for as a driver for a guy who took advantage of Feneth's gentleness to cheat him out of his wages. We gave him a job driving all of the people Susan needed to send to the hospital – and it was there that his gentleness found an outlet for showing exceeding kindness to people in very desperate need. When his younger brother Redford joined our team and started driving the bus to the hospital, Feneth began driving "The Grandson" hauling construction supplies and working with the students at our different schools around the country to haul stones and sand and bricks to push our building projects along.

Godfrey's letter continued …

… Talking to Feneth caused me to remember my own accident Mzee. In 2006 on the hill in the village of Igoda the car flipped over in the sand. Everyone was so surprised to see you act differently from what everyone thought was normal behavior. All you seemed to care about was me. All you wanted to know was if I was hurt or not. No one could believe their ears then! I remember that you used my accident to explain to all of our students that Christians must, more than anything, care about people. Everyone understood that day that VST was different from the companies we know. They simply employ workers and then throw them away like used pieces of paper if they make a mistake or if they become useless or if they cause loss. Now it is 2008 and it is my turn Mzee to follow your example and to make sure that Feneth (and all other people) understand again that message. In VST we will be different in all things. We must be different in all things. We are Christians so we absolutely must be different …

… What I want to tell you now Mzee is something new but I hope it will not make you angry. If it will make you angry, I ask you to forgive me. But I want to say this. I want to tell you that I will never forget all the days of my life that you were my Mathematics teacher and you were my Bible teacher. It will maybe make you sad to know that everything you taught me in Mathematics I have forgotten. I have no place to use Mathematics in our work. You never talk to me about logarithms or functions or anything in Mathematics anymore. But what you taught me as my Bible teacher I do not forget. Because we use that knowledge in our work. Because we talk about that. Not like Mathematics. So I hope the truth is not hurting you because you love Mathematics. I was sad when I had my accident, and I am still sad. And I know Feneth is sad, and he will be sad for a long time. I believe his body hurts but his heart is happy because he knows for sure that we care about him ...

I am occasionally asked in America why VSI can't agree to send good teachers who aren't Christians to serve in our schools. After all, one could argue, Mathematics is Mathematics. I have over the years given what I thought were good answers.

I've explained to people that our big, huge goal is to see the lives of our students transformed, and through them, their whole communities transformed, and so we need people who have not only been transformed by the gospel themselves but who will be willing to share with our students that gospel. Paul wrote to the Thessalonians that he loved them so much that he was willing not only to share the gospel with them but his life with them. We need teachers who will have that kind of love inside of them.

And then sometimes I've explained to people that while we don't want to be more melodramatic about it than we have to, life in the village is hard, and in the end, people who come for any other motivation short of feeling truly that God has directed them to do it and that they are acting out of obedience, well they'll simply never last, or if they do last, they'll complain the whole time and make everyone around them miserable.

But now I've got a new answer. I can show them Godfrey's letter and let them read that everything I taught him in Math class he has already forgotten! I'll be happy to share that with them. I'm happy Godfrey shared that with me. To think Godfrey was wondering if I'd be angry with what he wrote! I can't wait until I get back to Tanzania and I can find a quiet moment to tell him not only that I feel no anger but I'll get the chance to talk with him about why, on the contrary, his email only made me happy. I totally enjoyed teaching Godfrey Mathematics and I'm glad that teaching him helped him pass the national examinations. But Godfrey's life was not transformed by studying logarithms and functions with me, he didn't become the godly leader with vision that he is today because he scored an A on my statistics exam, he hasn't thrown himself into serving God because mathematics touched his soul.

I'm also happy that Godfrey ended his letter by sharing with me the news that "… Feneth himself is driving the car from Mbeya town back to Idigima. I tell you this Mzee so that you will have no doubts left in your mind if Feneth is hurt or not. The truck is loaded with cement and nails. They are determined to finish six more new classrooms by January. Feneth said he won't leave the students until either they have hauled all of the bricks or they themselves say that they are tired…. " I'm happy Godfrey shared that little tidbit of information with me as well. It is as Godfrey said proof to me that Feneth wasn't hurt all that badly. He might have some aches and pains and he might be sore but he's going to be okay. And even more so it's proof to me that Feneth is still Feneth and perhaps even more so. No asking for a couple of days off to rest up and nurse whatever pains he's got. There's lots of work to be done before the rains set in.