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9th Grade Algebra

Monday, January 18, 2010

Saturday morning we were up before the sun came up, in the car and on our way to Iringa town. Part of me was simply eager and excited about having the chance to speak again here in Tanzania after being gone for so long, and part of me was happy that we were going to drop Josh off in Mafinga with Zamu so that the two of them could spend the day shopping for Susan to restock the house with food and everything else, but part of me just wanted to spend the day with Godfrey and Emmanueli. To laugh is a good thing. To talk of serious things is a good thing. To get to be together again the three of us after all these months is indeed a really good thing. I truly have simply missed being with them these past three months that I had to be in America.

We were to visit three high schools, to share with students about Village Schools Tanzania, and to challenge those who would be graduating next month to get involved with us in this ministry. When we got to the first school, it was quite obvious that Justin had definitely done his job -- the room was already packed before we arrived and more people were crowding in as we entered. It was the same thing at the other two schools, and I felt all the old energy coming back to me as I rose in each place to tell them the story of my life and how I came to see that what God wanted me to do was to spend my life me to serve Him. To give those who would otherwise never get the chance to go to school that opportunity to do so. To share the Gospel with my students and with their families. To enable others to join with us in this great and grand effort to change the course of the history of their country. To make sure that one day all children, no matter how poor their parents are, or whether or not they're parents are already dead and unable to help them, they all at the very least get the chance to go to school. Would they not want to examine their own lives and ask God if maybe He didn't want them to be a part of this work as well? It was the same challenge I had taken countless other times to churches, universities and schools, here in Tanzania or in America, but I never tire of telling of what God has done these past years in villages across this country of Tanzania, and I never tire of speaking of the truth that God wants His people to help the poor and the needy. It doesn't matter if the rest of the world doesn't care, God wants us as His people to care -- and to do something about it!

Godfrey and Emmanueli and I have spent many a Saturday speaking these past few years. But this was truly a unique Saturday. Part of it, certainly, was because the results of the national examinations had just been announced and the crowds of students who had gathered to hear us speak, already well aware of the rather stunning results of some of our schools, clearly were overjoyed and showed so in their applause and their energy and their enthusiasm. Part of it, certainly, was that there truly does seem to be this intangible and yet real desire among Christian young people -- and I sense it on both continents -- to make their lives count for something other than just getting a good job, and instead to make their lives count in God's sight by doing something of value for the poorest of the poor. But as I think back to what I remember about the meetings at those three schools, what particularly stands out was the fact that Justin was there.

Justin was the one who had gone to each of the schools and got the students to ask the school authorities to invite me to come and speak -- and he was the one who had met with large and small groups, talked to individuals, spoke in classrooms, to personally invite people to come on Saturday to hear me speak. Justin and I go way back to when he was a 9th grader and I taught him algebra. 9th Grade Algebra -- how I loved it! How tall Justin was now after all these years! He looked like the university student that he is today and it felt good in my heart to know that he is now in his first year studying. What made Saturday special at each school was when I stopped in the middle of my speech and turned around and asked Justin to stand up and tell them how many classrooms he and his students and the people in the village of Idiwili had built. In each place he managed to pause just the right number of seconds so that he had the crowd hanging in anticipation for his answer.

12 classrooms Mzee. At each school the room errupted in applause, and I allowed myself to just look at Justin and smile while they clapped and clapped. How many young men on this planet can say that they organized the building of 12 classrooms for a school? And all I could think of was the scrawny kid in 9th grade who himself was never supposed to get to go to school, whose father had died, whose older brother had died, who we kept in school against all odds, and here he was standing before a group of hundreds of students telling them that he had built 12 classrooms in a little village.

And how many students at your school took the Form 2 national examinations? 146 Mzee. At each school, I let them applaud that answer, and I turned back to the crowd and said, listen, we're talking about 146 students who were never chosen to go to secondary school, 146 students who were told that there was no room for them, 146 students who were told that they would never ever get to go to school again, 146 students who worked with Justin to make bricks and to haul stones and to build those classrooms. Those are the 146 students Justin is talking about.

Now Justin, how many of your students passed?

All 146 of them Mzee. The applause and the real joy and the excitement on people's faces was a sight to see. At each school I let them show their joy and then when they quieted down, I asked them the tough questions. What was it about Justin's school that caused all of his students to pass when everywhere else in the country we know everyone is in sadness over the truly poor results this year, and last year, and every year. How is it possible that in the government schools that they can choose the very best of the best out of each village, the kids get fed every day, they have electricity to study with, and yet still they fail the national examinations in droves? And then we have VST schools and we take everyone, the B students, the C students, the D students, the kids with no shoes, the orphans, those who have been out of school for years, and we tell them to all come, that together we will figure out a way for them to stay in school. How do they end up passing? How did Justin's school end up beating out every other school in its district in Mbeya? "How did that happen?" I demanded of them. And I let their silence be defeaning so that the fact that they had no rational way of explaining it was evident to all.

And that was where I got to talk with them about the special nature of our teachers. Hezbroni who came and taught geography for six months teaching every period and extra periods after school, exceling at teaching because he was on a mission to make sure that in those months he could give his students the very best understanding of gegraphy that was possible. Anderson who was determined to do the impossible -- to teach kids who were convinced that they couldn't understand physics to not only understand that subject but to excel at it. Missionary teachers who came from across the ocean to teach English. It is a calling. It -- is -- a -- calling! I let myself punctuate every word for emphasis. It is looking deep inside of ourselves and asking if God wants us to give of ourselves for a semester or two, to live in a small village, to work with the poorest of the poor of this country, and to somehow against all odds, cause them to understand things no one would dream that they could understand. I let them all applaud and then as the applause finally subsided, I was blunt with them. Bu do us all a favor, don't come if you are looking for a good salary, don't come if you want an easy life, don't come if you're looking for thank-yous, and don't even come even if you are a very strong Christian and you want to serve the poor and you want to share your faith ... that's right, don't come even if you really want to come and to do good for those who are in great need. If that's your only reason for coming then we don't want you and we don't need you. Come only if you are convinced in your heart that this is what God wants you to do and you can truly say that you are coming out of obedience, obedience to Him. Come and we will serve together, we will run schools that will serve the poor, we will run schools which share the Gospel, we will run schools with discipline, run on Christian principles.

Most of them, I know, won't come. But some will. I am confident that God will indeed call some to come and serve Him, because the fields are ripe unto harvest and the workers are few and more workers are needed. Some of those workers are going to come from amongst His people here in Tanzania and some are going to going to have to travel by airplane to get here. But He will call some to come serve with us.

One of those who is going to serve this year as a teacher with us is my son Joshua. In fact, today was his very first day of the new school year and his very first day in the classroom. I know that he's a little young -- he's only 15 -- but he's as tall as I am, and he really wants to teach, and he's awfully good at Math. He'll take two hours of his own school day so that he can teach here at Madisi. The irony is not lost upon me that he'll be teaching 9th grade Algebra. There will undoubtedly be some Justins in Joshua's classroom this year, just as there were in my 9th grade Algebra class many years ago.

What I never told the Minister of Education

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Steve & Susan Vinton

Village Schools International

Box 1929 Tomball Texas 77377

www.villageschools.org

January 12, 2010

When Godfrey and Emmanueli came to get me this morning and we got into the car and we turned right after we came out of the big forest I began to suspect what their big surprise had to be. When after a couple of miles they turned on the road heading towards Mudabulo village, and then made the turn heading up towards the 55 acres of land the village had given us to build our college, I smiled inside, convinced that I knew what surprise they had prepared for me. And when we came through the woods into the meadow near the top of the hill my eyes saw the walls of the first three lecture halls, so beautifully and wonderfully built, and I was thrilled to the depths of my soul. Godfrey and Emmanueli just smiled. And then we bounded out of the car and the three of us ran and danced together hugging and banging each other on the back. What a tremendous sight it was to see. Glorious. All of the truckloads upon truckloads of stones that our students had hauled, the hundreds of thousands of bricks that had been carried during these past three years, the mounds of sand, the huge piles of gravel that had been pounded painstakingly by hand, it was now after all these years of waiting so patiently and sometimes so very impatiently, it was all being turned into our college. Our dream college.

But that wasn't their special surprise. It certainly was a surprise -- but it wasn't their special suprise. And Godfrey didn't succeed in making my eyes well up with tears of joy until from behind one of the walls out walked Festo. He's the one Mzee who we chose to do his internship working under me and Emmanueli supervising the building of this college. I was so happy that I did indeed feel my eyes well up in tears. You see it was Festo's father who welcomed us to the village of Igoda in 2005 and he was the one who gave the land, the whole Madisi hill, where we built our very first school, where we all live together now, where VSI first started taking shape. Festo was yet another kid who was never supposed to get to go to secondary school. The year he finished primary school he wasn't chosen to get to go to the government school and so Festo got married, he farmed, he planted trees, he had children, he was a good member of the village. Until the year his father gave the land for the building of the school. That was the year that Festo became a student again. And now five years later, Festo has finished his ordinary level studies (with honors near the top of his class no less), and while he waits for the results from the national examination council so he can do his advanced level studies, Festo is building the college. We have two years to build this college Mzee. I smiled. We will get it finished Mzee. I smiled again. It will be a lot of work building this whole campus. This is where I'm going to go to college Mzee. That succeeded in causing my eyes to well up again.

I've built two colleges here on this continent -- both of them in Congo -- one, a teachers training college, and the second one, a theological college. They both continue to this day to produce young men and women with five-year degrees who are building their country and changing lives. But those colleges weren't anything particularly special. I was young back then and I just wanted to train teachers and I just wanted to train pastors and any curriculum would do. But this college, my third college and I suspect my final college, this will be my dream college. It will be special.

This college will train leaders. We don't have a name for it yet. But it's going to be a leadership college and it is going to train leaders. Principals for schools. Project managers who will be able to lead communities to build schools. Chaplains who will be spiritual leaders for teachers and students. And of course teachers. This will be a Christian college that will train a leaders with an entrepreneurial spirit committed to being used by God to transform lives and to transform society. Our graduates won't just be mere principals, they will be leaders committed to inspiring their teachers and their students and leading them to greatness. Our project managers won't just be overseers, they will be catalysts for change, people who will have the vision of inspiring individuals and communities to go beyond what they thought possible to successfuly complete projects. Those who study at this college won't be theologians -- oh they'll know theology, they'll know their Bibles, but we intend for them to graduate with a vision for sharing the Gospel with students and being spiritual leaders for them as they grow in their faith. And we will indeed train teachers. Teachers who will want to be leaders in their field, trying to find new and creative ways to make sure their students understand. I remember promising the Minister of Education in 2005 that ours would be the only college of its kind to be built in a village. That ours would be a uniquely Christian college. That ours would be a pre-eminently practical college with our students using our network of secondary schools as their laboratories to practice what they would learn in class. What I never told the Minister of Education was what I never knew until today. That our college would be the only college to be built by Festo, a young man who is among those known here in Tanzania as "the unchosen ones", a young man who when he finished the seventh grade was passed over, was told there was no room for him, was told that he wasn't good enough, that he wasn't among on the one or two kids from his village that year who were chosen to get to go on to secondary school. A young man who was born in a small village to a poor farmer and he was to never get any education beyond the seventh grade.

Today Festo stood in that lecture hall with his muddy boots on. One day two years from now it is very possible that he will indeed sit in that lecture hall as a student. And who knows, one day a decade from now he just might stand in that lecture hall, not as a student, but a professor, giving lectures to his students.

It was good of Godfrey to keep stringing me along for all of these months making me wait all of this time for my surprise.

Festo is one of the 73 of our graduates chosen by Godfrey and Emmanueli to participate in a special 4-month internship program they designed for our students while they wait for their national examination results. Many of them are teaching in our special Intensive English program throughout our 16 schools. Some of them are overseeing the building of new classrooms. A few of them, like Festo, have been chosen to work closely with Godfrey and Emmanueli in positions of leadership.

And we were home

Monday, January 11, 2010

Steve & Susan Vinton

Village Schools International

Box 1929 Tomball Texas 77377

www.villageschools.org

January 12, 2010

Yesterday was a long, long day, but last night was wonderful. A true treasure.

The day began in Dar es Salaam at 5 in the morning, we were already at the bus station by 6, and then we were traveling across this great land, up mountains, through rain storms, across the plains and plateaus, seeing herds of elephants, watching our sons bargaining for maize from the sellers who held forth their tempting roasted treats on long sticks reaching up to the windows of the bus. We shared roasted meat that Josh & Jonathan bought at the roadside stands, we drank fruit juices that we had missed the months we were in America, we met new friends on the long bus ride. We were going home! And then suddenly the bus rounded the bend and came up the hill and we were in the town of Mafinga. And there were Godfrey and Emmanueli to greet us and receive us and welcome us, their faces beaming, and we were home. We were already home even though we still had a long journey to actually get to Madisi.

The two-hour ride in the car was wonderful. It had been raining for days, and the roads were soupy mud and I was glad that Emmanueli was driving and not me. I loved seeing Emmanueli's smile again. The conversation was animated and bounced all around the country, punctuated with text messages coming into my phone with greetings from all of our schools after Godfrey let everyone know that we were in the car heading for Madisi. It was wonderful having those hours slipping and sloshing around in the mud to catch up on all of the news. Our poor truck Mwanaume was still stuck in the mud. Edgar would bring his bride to Madisi on the 23rd. Justin had spoken to large groups of students at four different schools in Iringa and we were to meet with all of them on the 16th. The District Medical Officer had come to inspect Susan's Community Treatment Center and was just waiting for us to return to organize the ribbon cutting and the grand opening. And at school after school, Godfrey had stories to tell of the special things our students had done to work with our dump trucks and push forward on a grand scale the building programs in our schools. It warmed our hearts to hear the news of our recent graduates out doing their internships, teaching our students, organizing people to build more classrooms, learning the ropes of running this work, and both the guys chimed in with great stories of how they were doing.

And then we were at Madisi! They must have spent all 86 days we were away scrubbing our house and it was so filled with flowers that it smelled almost like a flower shop! They had stocked the house with everything from rice to green peppers and carrots, the generator was on and we had lights and electricity, and it was just wonderful giving and getting hugs and simply being home. And then they walked with us up to the school where they had prepared a wonderful feast, a huge party, a time for us to all be together. It was all organized like a wedding, complete with the DJ and music, the wedding cake that Joshua and Jonathan were to cut and to feed me and Susan, and there were mounds and mounds of food, goat and chicken, rice and pilau, fruits and vegetables, sodas and so many gifts wrapped in brightly colored wrapping paper -- everything from wonderfully delicious imported apples from South Africa and two beautiful cucumbers from Mbeya, to a huge pig for Jonathan that will soon become ham and sausage and grilled pork chops. But what was best was the mood of the evening. It was indeed a time to rejoice that we were home and we were all together again. It was a time to truly thank God for having very graciously granted Jonathan a successful heart surgery and a wonderful recovery. It was also a time, as Godfrey noted, for reflection. So much had indeed changed -- the school at Madisi had been painted, the huge herd of goats was gone from the Madisi hill and the flowers could finally bloom in peace (the goats we learned were in exile at a farm a couple of miles away), more classrooms had been built, the students had even redone the road through the forest so it would be passable during this rainy season -- but for as much as so many things had changed, one thing had clearly not changed. And that was very evident for all to see in that room last night. There was still that same great joy of being together and that same real spirit of love. Last night was a spectacular display, a real living image of what Paul had written in 1 Corinthians 13, for yes, truly, "the greatest of these things is love". It truly doesn't matter how many schools we build, how many students we enroll, how many kids we share the Gospel with, how many widows or orphans we help, if there is no love in us and in what we do, it really is all nothing, we are nothing, and the whole thing is nothing. Now some people might argue with that and find the statement a bit of an exaggeration. But in God's eyes, Paul tells us, even if we give up our bodies to be burnt, but we have not love, we gain nothing! We can give everything we possess to the poor, we can have a faith that can move mountains, we can fathom all mysteries and have all knowledge, but without love, it is all nothing.

I am up early this morning, several hours before sun up. Part of it is just that my body has yet to adjust to the time zone changes. Part of it is that I just wanted to watch the sun come up here at Madisi because it really is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. Part of it is that I just wanted to bask in the joy of thinking about last night. No matter how many more schools we open, if we have not love, it is nothing. No matter how many more kids we pluck from the ash heap of history and give the chance to study, if we have not love, it is nothing. No matter how many times we share the Gospel, if we have not love, it is nothing. No matter how many widows and orphans we help, if we have no love, it is nothing. Some people say that the greatest thing about VSI is how rapid it has been expanding, the great number of schools, the thousands of students. Some people say the greatest thing about VSI is that we share the Gospel so effectively with our students. There are those who are thrilled with the huge amount of community participation that goes into every classroom that gets built here. Others are drawn to how well our students end up doing on the national examinations. Some like the fact that we have a completely volunteer staff and that it means that not even one percent of people's donations stays in America to run an office. There are a lot of people who are so attracted to the fact that it seems evident that it is God who is at work in producing all that is happening because things have gotten so big so fast clearly no human being could take credit for it all.

But last night what came into focus for me is that while all of those other things are good, truly the greatest thing about VSI is the love. The love is what is truly the greatest thing about VSI. Susan is loved by the people of these villages. We could see people's love for Joshua and Jonathan last night and how happy they were to see Jonathan healthy and us all back here in Tanzania. Godfrey & Emmanueli's love for us was beaming from their faces. And all of this is happening because God in His great love for the people of these villages chose to orchestrate things so that we would all be together in this little corner of the world working and serving together towards the goal of giving every kid the chance to go to school and trying to make sure that every person gets to hear the Gospel. Love is priceless, it is immeasurable and unquantifiable, but it is also very real. God's love is real. Our love for each other is real.

And today is the day that I get to learn the surprise that Godfrey has promised me. He said it would make me cry with joy to see it. I can't honestly think of what could be better than what I saw and felt last night. But I head into the day with anticipation -- I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just wants the time to go faster -- I'm ready to be led around to be shown what is this great thing that they did while I was in America that he is convinced will bring me such a great amount of joy and happiness. Today is truly going to be a great day. This is going to be a great year!

The incredible suprise

Thursday, January 7, 2010

We were in America for 86 days. We managed to cram into those days open-heart surgery for Jonathan, a whirlwind of meetings in churches and colleges, in schools and in the homes of our friends, a few quiet dinners just me and Susan. We celebrated Thanksgiving, Christmas and the beginning of a new decade, and together with our friends and family we spent a very special Saturday evening together celebrating five years since the founding of Village Schools International. Susan turned 50. Josh got to spend two months attending an American school and in case we hadn't noticed we had impressed upon us that our little boy has been growing up into quite a fine young man.

In Texas someone taped an interview with me, and then taped a second one with Susan, and for the first time she and I have our faces and our voices on YouTube. I can't wait to watch both of those videos with Godfrey & Emmanueli (you all can have a look as well at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ3FpBivxMs and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i5w8eHYWyIU). But even more than watching those videos together I want to share with Godfrey and Emmanueli about the conversations that we had with the man who made the videos, about the words that Natalie, one of our former missionary teachers, spoke the evening we shared those videos publicly for the first time, and about all of the other memories that I have of that very special weekend in Texas. In North Carolina I ended up on YouTube yet again, and I look forward to showing that video interview to them as well (you can view it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iGX0JM3Ykfc). It's short and to the point. but what I've got to tell them won't be! I want to share with them about the rather amazing organization in North Carolina whose offices I was sitting in for that interview, and how inspired I was to get to visit with them the day that I was in their city, and all of the ideas that have been floating around in my brain ever since.

Godfrey and Emmanueli will enjoy the videos, but I know that they're going to want to know all about everything that happened in America, and I know it will take one of our very long trips traveling across the country to share with them all of the details. There's no question that we have to hit the ground running once we get to Tanzania so telling the stories will have to wait until we have hours and hours in the car and no one to interrupt us and nothing else to do. I'm sitting on this airplane flying from Houston to London right now, but I'm imagining driving down the road on a long trip with the two of them to visit some new village somewhere where we've been invited to start another new school. We'll be eating boiled peanuts and sweet bananas, there will be plenty of time for laughter and for moments of seriousness. And I'll get to re-live with them the things that happened during these nearly three months that I've been gone

But as much as I want to tell them about everything that happened in America, I'm infinitely more eager to hear about all that I've missed by not being in Tanzania these past three months. Godfrey and Emmanueli have given me little tidbits in their emails. I know that they sent out 73 of our graduates to do internships in our schools. Godfrey has shared with me the draft of the speech he's working on to give to the Prime Minister when he comes to visit us. I know that our students at school after school have truly outdone themselves working with Fenet and Redford and Moses and our construction vehicles to tremendously push forward our building projects. So I know a lot of good things have happened while I've been gone. But Godfrey has repeatedly let me know that they have a huge surprise for me when I get home and I can't wait to see what it is. He won't give me much of a clue except to say that I will weep with joy, and he's clearly beside himself with pleasure over what they've orchestrated and very happy to be tormenting me by dangling the knowledge that there is a surprise out there waiting for me without telling me what it is! I can't wait to see Grace, Godfrey and Veronica's little girl, and to see how much she's grown. I look forward to little Christian (Emmanueli and Harima's little boy) coming down to the house to visit and ask for fruit. I want to see all of our students and teacher again. I'm eagerly anticipating the huge party that is planned to celebrate Jonathan's heart getting fixed, Susan's latest birthday, Sarah finishing her masters, and just the simple fact that we'll all be together again.

But I'm dying to know what the surprise is that they've been working so long on. I don't think that they bought another truck. Opening another school or two would of course be impressive, but even so, after opening 16 schools already, opening a couple more isn't something that will cause me to weep for joy.

One thing I do know -- the last five years have been years in which every single thing that we thought we understood that God wanted us to do, turned out to be a mere glimpse, a little fraction, of what He had planned to see accomplished. So I do look forward to the next five years with great anticipation. Godfrey says that I will weep with joy over what they have done while I've been gone. I can't imagine what it could be that would make me weep with joy and so he certainly has succeeded in arousing my curiosity. I can't make the airplane fly any faster and I can't make the clock move any quicker, but Sunday night we hope to finally be home at Madisi, and Monday morning Godfrey and Emmanueli have promised me that I will get to see the incredible surprise that they have to show us. It's going to be good to be home.

Latest Updates

9th Grade Algebra
What I never told the Minister of Education
And we were home
The incredible suprise
Time to reflect
Two weeks from tomorrow
His smile as he walked out said it all
A few thoughts to share
The Lazarus Effect
Imagine that we get to live here!

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STEVE AND SUSAN'S BLOG

9th Grade Algebra

What I never told the Minister of Education

And we were home

The incredible suprise

Latest Updates

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STEVE AND SUSAN'S BLOG

9th Grade Algebra

What I never told the Minister of Education

And we were home

The incredible suprise

Latest Updates

Archives

Archives (PDF format)

View our 5 minute video. watch now >>

Read our most recent update and archived letters. read now >>

View our
5 minute video.

watch now >>

Read our most recent update and archived letters.

read now >>