steve's blog

Life is good

By Friday night I had pretty much made up my mind, enough at least, to ask Susan on Saturday if she could send someone to find her friend Bahati and ask him to come see me. He had been the butcher in the village for years and years until he got very sick with AIDS. It was nearly nine years ago when Susan helped out their family, and everyone got tested and she got him started on the ARVs. That was when he “came back to life” – and he started butchering meat again for the whole village!

Their fathers

As the years have gone by and our lives have changed and everything here has grown, Susan and I have acquired a lot of names. I remember the years when I was known as Mkongo (“the man from Congo”), Fundula Mtonto (“the one who reveals all that was hidden”) and then Mr Vinton morphed into Mzee Vinton and then just simply Mzee (“the old man”) or Msee by those of the Hehe people who can’t pronounce z’s. Susan went from being Mrs Vinton to Mama Joshua and Mama Yona and then Mama Vinton, Mama wa Wingi (“the mother of many”) and then just Mama to everyone.

The day starts off well

The day starts off well!

... as we look back over the past ten years.

Our hearts are full of thanksgiving as we look back over the past ten years.

In apparent weakness

One of the things I love doing is speaking to the huge crowds of people who come to the town meetings we have in villages whenever we are invited to begin working with them to build a new school. These meetings go on for hours. And I relish every moment of them. Hundreds, sometimes thousands, of people seated on grassy hillsides. A few words of introduction and customary greetings. Sometimes a few speeches by village leaders or elders.

Crowding out the unbelief in my heart

Last week was such an incredible week! It began with Susan and I (and Jonathan!) spending two very long, very rainy days in the car traveling across the country to return home to our village. We had been in the far east of the country, at the top of the Lushoto Irente cliffs, leading a 72-hour retreat for a dozen Whitworth University students and their professors. It was a time to help those students think some new thoughts about the people who live on this continent. It was an opportunity to share with them both the joy and the heartache of being here.

I think of all the girls who are not in schools

Today we sent off three new missionaries to go serve in the far western Rukwa region of Tanzania. They won’t get to their new homes until sometime Thursday, probably late in the evening. They go to these villages to do what all of our missionaries go to do: to teach our students, to love them, to share the Gospel with them.

Those Msanda Boys

This was the week, in six regions all across the country of Tanzania, that new students started enrolling in our schools to come study English. They just finished their national exams to complete their seven years of primary school education, and they and their families won’t find out for four months who will get chosen to get to go on to the 8th grade in the government schools. We’re not waiting though.

The name they chose for their school

Last week began with another email from Malawi and when I saw the pictures of all of their bricks – they now have more than 70,000 made! – I said to myself that nothing the whole week, no matter how good, was ever going to top that! I was thrilled off the charts. The only bad thing about starting out the week at the mountain top is that everything from then on looks like you’re going downhill!

And down hill indeed things did go.

Last night I saw the picture of the bricks

Last night I saw the pictures of the bricks.