An International Thanksgiving

As Thanksgiving approached this year I decided the best way to celebrate would be to introduce my friends and colleagues to a Canadian Thanksgiving. Seeing as how I am the only Canadian in the area I figured it was up to me to take on this task.

I really wanted to get a turkey this year but they are few and far between and I didn’t know if it would be possible. Fortunately, one my colleagues knew someone who had been raising turkeys and was ready to sell them. I arranged to have a turkey delivered to my office. Naturally, it was still alive and I decided a fight with a live turkey was probably not a good plan. The man who delivered it came with me and we brought it in my car to my house where he killed it in the backyard. Then my house worker was able to pluck it and clean it for me. I froze it as this was a couple weeks before Thanksgiving.

When Thanksgiving weekend came around (we celebrated on Saturday, Oct 10 because Monday is not a holiday here), I had approximately 25 adults and 11 children crammed into my little house! Fortunately we had a potluck style meal where everyone contributed part of the meal. My housemate and I had to borrow chairs in order to have enough seats for everyone. We spent part of the afternoon arranging and fitting them just right in our living room, like a puzzle. Otherwise we would not have had space for all of them. We needed every single chair too! There were people from Egypt, England, the States, Australia, New Zealand and Holland. It was definitely an international Thanksgiving!

One of the best parts of the evening (besides eating the turkey) was listening to everyone share something they were thankful for. Sometimes doing this can be a little superficial depending on what people say, but it was actually quite meaningful. It was encouraging to hear all the different things people appreciate. We all come from such different backgrounds, from different parts of the world and yet we can sit together and honour God because of everything we have to be thankful for.

Holy, Holy, Holy

Although the key terms workshop is over and things have settled down a bit in the translation department, our work with those key words continues. Yesterday I sent two translation teams out to the community to test some of those ways they want to translate those key terms.

One key term in particular stuck out to me as I was helping a translator prepare for the community testing. That word is holy. I think our first reaction if we tried to define holy would be something along the lines of 'without sin' or 'without blemish'. But when we look at some of the ways that word 'holy' is used in the Bible our definition seems to be missing something. There are holy places, like the temple, there are holy articles, there are holy people, God's name is holy etc. What is the common denominator between all these things? It's not that they are perfect or without blemish but rather that they are all set apart for God. They are holy because God is holy.

So when it comes down to the very basic definition we see that holy really has to do with the fact that God is completely distinct from everything else. He is totally unique and that is what holy means. Everything is holy only when it is set apart distinctly for God. Along with that meaning we can get other meanings, such as the idea of being blameless or sinless but only because God is sinless. Otherwise the word for 'pure' carries the idea of being sinless.

I think that many of us, myself included, sing about God being holy or his name being holy without ever really stopping to think what that means. But if someone would ask us to define exactly what we mean by 'holy' we wouldn't know what to say. This is a bit of what happened to me because all the languages we work with have no word for 'holy'. So I had to explain what 'holy' means in that context and to do that, I had to understand what it means. It was a good challenge to me to really think about some of these words that roll so easily off my tongue.

Why I Do What I Do

Recent events in our translation department have caused me to re-evaluate why am I here in Tanzania. Before I came to Tanzania I had many reasons for wanting to be part of a Bible translation project, the most important one being that I believed God was calling me to this work. But I had many other reasons along with that. I wanted to do something with my life that would last forever. I wanted to invest in people. I wanted people to be able to read the Bible in their own languages. I wanted to live in another culture and learn another language. I wanted to be a part of what God was doing, somewhere else in the world. Never did I dream how easily those reasons could be disposed of.

Somewhere along the way it stopped being fun learning another language and culture and become increasingly frustrating, feeling out of place and never able to communicate well. People didn’t always respond as I hoped and I didn’t feel like I was investing in them. It’s difficult work translating and sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever have a good translation that people can read in their mother tongue. But most of all recently, I have discovered that people who I thought were committed to this work, aren’t all that committed and it makes me question why I am still here.

I am still here because I have one reason left to be here and that is that God called me. In the end it boils down to the fact that my work out here does not depend on the commitment of Tanzanians or other colleagues. It doesn’t depend on whether people want me to be here or whether they like me or not. It doesn’t depend on my personal fulfillment or desire to live in another culture. It depends on the fact that the God whom I serve and have dedicated my life to, asked me to work here and I need to obey. That’s it.

So whether I am struggling with my ministry or in my personal life, I will stay. And I know more than ever how faithful God is and that we will walk together through these times when everything seems to be coming apart at the seams. And His will will be done.

Layers of Belief

Since I’ve arrived in Tanzania I have heard that Christianity is oftentimes more of a surface thing than a deep-rooted life changing experience for many people. I have seen evidence of nominal Christianity but then again, that is not so different from nominal Christians back in Canada. They go to church on Sunday and then live however they want the rest of the week.

However, what I didn’t realize that I was not just dealing with nominal Christians but rather with was a completely different and separate worldview which Christianity has not penetrated. I had heard about this but didn’t fully understand the extent to which this works itself out in the lives of these people until I had some good discussions with my translators.

This week in our key terms workshop we have been researching their cultures, trying to find words that will help us translate key terms. At one point one of my very dedicated Christian translators told me a story about when he was a boy. He was responsible for watching the animals (probably goats or sheep) but one day some went missing. That night at home his grandmother showed him a special ceremony for asking the hyena to return the animals. According to their traditions, the hyena is a close friend and member of the community. During a ceremony involving certain stones and some ashes, this translator asked the hyena to return the animals. A few days later the animals came back in the middle of the night. As a thank you, they picked one of the best animals, killed it and left it out for the hyena.

As the translator talked about this story he didn’t relate it to God in anyway. It was just a part of life as he knows it, which is that the hyena has its own power to protect their clan. He was arguing that this power wasn’t from God or demons but was just its own power. The problem is not that something like this happened but that the realm in which it is understood is completely separate from God and a Christian worldview. When it comes to that part of life, Christianity is irrelevant.

Christianity is seen as a separate, more western thing and as such it has no power to change or impact the deep, underlying way these people see the world. I am making generalizations here because there are Tanzanians who relate Christianity to their traditions but for most people, they still see the world through the eyes of their traditions, not through the Bible.

More than ever, this realization has impressed on me the importance of having the Bible in these different languages. When Christianity is spoken about in Swahili or English only, it’s easier to keep it separate from traditions in the village. But when Christianity uses the language of traditions, it can began to penetrate that worldview which has so far been keep separate.

Sin Across Cultures

This week we began our key terms workshop. Basically this workshop consists of analyzing certain key terms in the Bible, such as sin, holy, God etc. Then we study the different languages/cultures to find suitable words to translate these key terms. Key terms are very difficult to translate because they are so fundamental to the message of the Bible. If you mistranslate these key terms, the translation might preach a different gospel than Jesus did. Thus we are taking two weeks just to focus on properly translating some key terms in Luke.

In preparation for our study of the word 'sin', I read an article about sin in different cultures. It was a fascinating article as the author, a long time member of Wycliffe, argued his point that although the core definition of sin is the same across cultures, there are different ways to interpret that definition. For example, he lists murder, adultery, lying, and stealing as actions that are considered wrong almost universally. However what one culture considers to be a lie, another culture doesn't. Or an action that is considered stealing in one culture is not stealing in another. An example would be how walking through an orchard in the States without permission and picking fruit would be considered stealing. However in ancient Israel, this would not be considered stealing.

This point really struck me as I live in another culture but have come here with my own ideas of what is right and wrong, ideas that I received from the Bible but have interpreted through my own cultural lenses. It's easy to look at people and condemn them for lying because they did not tell me what was true but told me what I wanted to hear. However, in their culture the greater sin would have been to be rude, to not love their neighbour as themselves. So were they sinning?

The other side is also true. How many times have I thought I was doing what was right according to my interpretation and yet maybe it was considered a sin in this culture? How many times have I blurted out the truth bluntly or didn't offer a meal when someone came to visit me? Did I hurt the people involved and did I sin against them?

To be honest, I don't really know where to draw the line but I am starting to understand what Paul said in Romans 14:1-4 "Accept other believers who are weak in faith, and don't argue with them about what they think is right or wrong. For instance, one person believes it's all right to eat anything. But another believer with a sensitive conscience will eat only vegetables. Those who feel free to eat anything must not look down on those who don't. And those who don't eat certain foods must not condemn those who do, for God has accepted them. Who are you to condemn someone else's servants? They are responsible to the Lord, so let him judge whether they are right or wrong. And with the Lord's help, they will do what is right and will receive his approval."

Banging My Head Against a Glass Window

It was a warm Friday afternoon and I was trying to concentrate on my work when I heard a buzzing sound above my head. Not unusual to hear, I looked up to see what kind of bug had invaded my workspace this time. It resembled a wasp and was trying desperately to get outside.

In order to understand the plight of this bug you have to understand the windows. They are big, maybe 6-7 feet across in total and 4 feet high. In the middle there is a glass pane which is probably about 1.5 feet across. On either side of that pane are open windows, double the glass pane in width and the same height. Now these open windows don’t have screens, just a few bars so there is space for birds to fly through if they wanted to.

This poor bug was literally banging its head against the glass window pane as it tried to find a way out. It went up one side and down the other, searching for some crack, some hole to squeeze through. It searched the edges, the corners, around and around it kept going. This went on for quite a while and distracted me from my work. I kept thinking that if the bug would just leave the window pane and retreat back into the room a bit, it would see the big open windows and could fly away freely. But it didn’t and kept going at the glass for some time.

Then it struck me how much like that bug I am and I just had to write down my musings. How many times do I stand looking at a goal, a really good goal in fact,like the bug trying to get outside (it definitely does not belong in the office). But when I try to forward I just hit a wall. I can’t understand it and I’m sure I need to head toward the goals so I try to force my way through. I bang my head against the glass, hoping it will break or I’ll discover some miraculous way through. I look at the glass from all angles trying to figure it out.

And during that whole time God is standing over me, watching and seeing the big picture. He sees the huge open windows on either side of me and tries to tell me He has made a way for me. I can go out anywhere through the huge space on the right or through the space on the left. But I won’t leave my pane of glass long enough to see the opportunities. I refuse to let go, to back up, when that in fact is the only way for me to achieve my goal.

Eventually the wasp-like bug flew away back into the room but he didn’t get the goal he was trying so hard for. God puts goals and dreams and desires in my hearts and he doesn’t necessarily mean for me to give up them. I just have to give up my way of getting there. I have to let go of how I want to do it and listen to God. Maybe then I’ll see the open windows on either side, just waiting for me to fly through them.

Attending a Tanzanian Wedding

Last weekend I went to my first ever wedding here in Tanzania. I had no idea what to expect but was really looking forward to experiencing whatever I would experience. The assistant operations manager for our office (a Tanzanian man named Eliud) married his childhood sweetheart to whom he had been secretly engaged for 10 years. And no, this is not your typical Tanzanian engagement story. They were secretly engaged as teenagers but waited ten years to get married, until Eliud had a job and money to provide well for her.

The wedding was supposed to begin around 3pm but typically began when everyone arrived. The four bridesmaids danced their way up the aisle in pink satin followed by the bride and her maid of honour, both in white, although the bride's dress was much fancier, similar to a North American style wedding gown. The ceremony wasn't as long as I thought it might be and included songs from a very enthusiastic, dancing choir, a man with some type of animal tail that he waved around constantly, a sermon from one of my colleagues, and lots of liturgy as they were married in a Lutheran church.

The reception was held at a hotel nearby. Two things that stood out to me about the reception were its interactive nature and the dancing. When I have attended wedding receptions in Canada, I usually found my seat and stay seated during the program if I was a guest. However at this reception the guests were repeatedly called up out of our seats. First we had to toast with the bride and groom which meant everyone in a line filing past the wedding party with their drink in hand. Then there was the gift giving which began with all the different family members being called up, one group at a time, to give their gift. First his parents, then his sisters, then his brothers, then his aunts, then his uncles and you get the picture. Next came her family and then us as his co-workers and the rest of the guests.

Throughout this whole time, no one walked up front to give their gift or toast the bride and groom. Everyone danced. Every time any group was called to the front music was played and everyone danced their way up front. Sometimes other people joined in just for fun.

Finally at 11 at night, the food was served, and then the real party began.

Although definitely different from any other wedding I've attended, it was a lot of fun and a real privilege to be a part of Eliud's wedding.

Graves and caves

If you had walked into our translation office this morning, you would have found yourself in the middle of an intense discussion about graves. I know, I know, not your usual Tuesday morning conversation but when it comes to translation, everything's fair game.

It all began with a lesson on how to translate unknown ideas. Currently the translators are working on translating Luke 22-24 and one of the unknown ideas in those chapters is the tomb where Jesus was laid. Out here when someone dies, a grave is dug and that person is buried in the ground. However Luke specifically says that no one had been buried in the tomb where they put Jesus (Luke 23:53). From the perspective of the people out here this doesn't make any sense. Who reuses graves?

Thus began the discussion on how to explain what Luke meant. What kind of phrase could describe a tomb? The idea of using the word for 'cave' instead of 'grave' was suggested to help portray this idea. Most translators agreed with this but then the question came up, was Jesus buried in the cave? Did they dig a grave in there or did they carve the stone? What word should be used to describe this process? What words are available in their languages?

Although they didn't all agree on exactly how it should be translated, this discussion was a good learning process for dealing with unknown ideas.

Because He Lives

A couple weeks before Easter I was listening to some worship songs when the hymn 'Because He Lives' started playing. The line 'because He lives, I can face tomorrow' really hit home with me. It was a busy week and some mornings I just wasn't sure I could get out of bed and face the day. But listening to those words I realized that I could face each day because of Christ. He is alive and with me so nothing is impossible.

Again this last weekend over Easter the words of that hymn came back to me and reminded me about the power of the resurrection. Although we celebrate Easter specifically at this time of year it's because of what Christ did on the cross, his death and resurrection that I do what I do each day, all year. It's because He lives that I can live each day in that power of the resurrection. It's because He lives that I walk each day with Jesus, who is alive. It's because of his incredible sacrifice that I am here in Tanzania, part of a project to translate the Bible.

Another meaningful part of Easter for me this year was being able to participate in communion Easter morning as part of a small English service we held. I rarely have the opportunity to take communion and so it was really special to be able to participate in it Easter morning. I was encouraged and refreshed and renewed in my purpose for being here.

So this week, although it's not exactly exciting being back at work after a nice long weekend, I can face each day because I have a living Saviour who is with me every minute. Together there is nothing that can stop us.

The Language of the Home

While I was out in the village of Bwitenge with the Ikoma translators doing a community check, I saw how important the mother tongue is to these people. I was eating lunch at the home of one of the participants (from the community testing) with the translators I work with. Now keep in mind that these translators speak Swahili fluently. We use it at work all the time, they spoke it in school growing up and use it in town all the time. However now, we were in the area that the translators called home, a place where everyone speaks Ikoma. So back to this lunch. . . While we were sitting and talking, the one translator, Muya, kept speaking Ikoma. The other translator would tell him to speak Swahili, because I couldn’t understand Ikoma. So Muya would switch to Swahili and then two minutes later, he would be back in Ikoma. This went on for a bit until he just gave up and spoke Ikoma.

At first I couldn’t understand why it was so hard for him to speak Swahili. I thought that once he switched to Swahili he would continue speaking it but he repeatedly returned to Ikoma. After a while I realized that this place was home, this is where he always spoke Ikoma and it probably felt awkward to speak Swahili, especially when everyone else spoke Ikoma. It didn’t matter how fluent he was in Swahili, there was a very strong pull to speak Ikoma in his home village.

That was when I realized how true it must be for the Scriptures too. The Swahili Bible definitely has its place but how can it enter into those homes where only Ikoma is spoken? How can it penetrate that world where only Ikoma is the lanaguage used? How can it reach people’s hearts in the privacy of their own homes? The answer is that it can’t and that’s why we are doing what we are doing. That’s why the Ikoma people we met were so thrilled to hear even two chapters of Luke in their own language. That’s why they patiently answered all our questions all day long, because the verses they heard touched a place that Swahili has never touched.

I have never fully understood what it's like to speak a language only at home, but that day I caught a glimpse. And I realized that people are most fully themselves at home. Home is where they feel relaxed, where they are open, where their passion lies and home is where the Word of God needs to enter in the language spoken there.

One Verse at a Time

"How can you make that sentence a bit shorter and less confusing?" "Who is Abijah and how do we make that clear in your translation?" "What does it mean to return someone to God?" These are just a few examples of the many questions I asked the Ikoma translators as we began checking their translation draft of Luke 1 last Friday.

Before we began working together, I had looked at their translation and compared it to various Swahili and English versions and of course the original Greek as well. As I compared their translation, I wrote down any questions or issues that I saw, from sentences that weren't very clear to words that seemed to mean something different from the Greek. Since I am not fluent in Ikoma, the translators had translated Luke 1 back into Swahili, word for word so I could understand the Ikoma translation.

Then we sat down together and went over my questions, verse by verse, coming up with ways to solve the issues. Sometimes it meant changing a sentence around, or using a different word in the sentence. Sometimes it meant deciding to add a picture of the temple into the translation when it's published or adding another phrase to explain that Abijah was a person, not a place.

The work was slow and I thought it might be tedious but in truth it was one of the most fun times I've had at work! I loved helping make God's word more clear, more accurate and hopefully easier for people to understand. There was a sense of satisfaction when we wrestled through an issue. For example, how we can we translate the metaphor 'throne of David' in a language and culture that has no idea of what a throne is or what it represents? There weren't always easy solutions and we'll definitely be looking at some of these issues again, but it was so rewarding to know we had made a verse more clear and accurate.

God's hand was definitely on us that day. It wasn't my insight or wisdom or that of the translator's that caused us to see these issues and how to solve them, but it was God's. I know, because I was sick and tired and was not bursting with ideas. But as we got underway the ideas came, the Swahili words I needed were there and my energy level increased. The only explanation is God.

This is just one step of many to come before we will publish Luke 1 & 2 but it has been a very encouraging and fun step to be a part of.

Missionaries Don't Wear High Heels

I had a funny moment at work last week caused by my shoes. I was wearing a pair of white shoes that have a bit of a heel on them, maybe a couple of inches. I was walking past one of the translators and he stopped me to ask a question. "Are you going to fall?" he questioned me curiously. I just looked at him blankly, completely confused. He must have understood my look because he went on to explain that I was wearing heels and since westerners don't wear heels, only Tanzanians do, I must not know how to walk in heels. The logical conclusion was that I would probably fall since I couldn't walk in heels.

Of course this just made me even more confused, having no idea where his conclusions came from. I asked him why he thought Westerners didn't wear heels. He looked around at all the other Westerners in the room and said that he never saw them wearing heels, only sandals. Therefore it seemed obvious to him that Westerners in general don't wear high heels.

Suddenly it all made sense. His experience with Westerners has been mostly missionaries who often prefer to wear sandals due to the heat and dirt. It is a little more tricky to wear heels when walking on dirt roads and so we often gravitate towards sandals. However Tanzanian women love shoes with high heels and wear them quite often. I laughed and tried to explain to him that back home where I come from, lots of people wear high heels. He looked slightly skeptical and I'm not sure if he believed me.

As amusing at this incident was, it made me think about how easy it is to judge people based on only a little bit of information. From the example of a few missionaries this Tanzanian made some sweeping judgments about millions of people in the Western world. Yet I know I am guilty of doing this same thing. It's easy to see two or three people do something and then judge every Tanzanian to be the same way. Not all assumptions are bad or wrong, but too often they can hurt relationships or stop us from really getting to know people because we've already labeled them.

I was labeled as being unable to walk in high heels and although it was funny, it also wasn't exactly flattering to be considered incompetent in this area. I won't forget this example and I hope it will always remind me to be careful in my judgments and assumptions.

Stories, Stories and More Stories

Currently I'm in my second week of what we are calling a discourse workshop. Basically for each of the nine languages, we had people who speak those languages tell stories, record them, write them down and then we charted them. So for the language I'm working with, which is called Ngoreme, I studied these stories and then divided up them up into sections such as subject, object, verb etc. These stories also are translated into Swahili, word for word so that I can understand them as I don't speak Ngoreme.

Now because I have put specific parts of speech in specific columns in the chart, I can look at one column and see all the verbs or all the objects and this is helpful in many ways. For example, we wanted to see what type of verbs come before the climax of the story. We looked at the verb column and found that sometimes the same verb is repeated leading up to the climax of the story. Later we will take these things that we've learned and apply them to our translations.

It has been interesting to learn how Ngoreme stories work and what makes an Ngoreme story good. However beyond that, it has been really fun just to read these stories and see all the differences between them and some of the folk tales that I know.

One difference that really confused me was the relationship between girls and gourds. Gourds are the dried shell of a vegetable, similar to a squash that can be used for many different purposes, a common one being to hold water or another liquid (see the picture above for an example). In Ngoreme folk tales and some folk tales from other languages, girls often go in and out of gourds and hide in gourds when they are running away from someone. I just didn't understand this at all so one day I asked one of the translators to explain this to me. His answer was very enlightening. He said that the narrow spout of the gourd allowed the girl to get in and then she could sit in the fat part of the gourd. But her pursuers could not get her out, much the same way you can drop a stick in the gourd but then if the stick turned sideways, you could not retrieve it again. He also said she would be stuck in the gourd. Explained that way, the whole gourd phenomena made sense to me, especially since gourds are very common around here.

Orientation Week Again

My life seems to involve a never ending series of orientations. I was orientated to living cross-culturally, I was oriented to life in Tanzania, I was orientated to the cluster project here in Musoma and this week has been one more orientation. However this orientation is not for me but for the Tanzanian translators who were recently hired. It is their introduction to working with the cluster project as part of an international team.

Today was the fourth day of the orientation and it was my dream come true! We spent all day talking about our personalities! I absolutely love analyzing my own personality and those of everyone around me. We began yesterday by having the translators fill out the Keirsey Temperament test (similar to Myers-Briggs) and then spent today looking at the different personalities.

There were some challenges because the test and the results are in English so everything had to be translated into Swahili. And Swahili doesn't have all the same adjectives with all the different nuances so that proved to be quite difficult at times. However at the end of the day the translators had a pretty decent idea of what personality they and their teammates are.

Not only was it great fun to see what types of personalities emerged but it was helpful to know the personalities of the translators I will be working with. Fortunately two of them (who will be doing the Ngoreme translation) are exactly like me so at least I can know a little bit where they are coming from.

Although this week has been a new experience for all of us leading or helping with the orientation, it has gone well and been a good first step in building an international translation team.

A Little Privacy Please

I love living in my community with Tanzanian neighbors who are friendly and very helpful. It's nice not to feel unnoticed or isolated in this community orientated culture. However there are days like today when I wouldn't mind being a little less noticeable in the community.

I was sitting in my living room this room writing emails and letters, trying to catch up on everything, when suddenly I heard "hodi hodi mzungu!" and the sound of a bunch of kids laughing outside of my gate. They were basically saying "knock, knock white person" and asking to come in. Since there is an elementary school nearby I wasn't entirely shocked to hear kids but usually they only yell at me when they see me outside. Seeing as how I hadn't left my house yet I was a bit surprised that they were yelling. I ignored them and figured they would leave but I was wrong.

A couple minutes later I heard a loud commotion, a mix of kids yelling and laughing and the gate clanging. Suddenly I could hear them running right outside my window down the side of the house, which means they were inside the gate. Now I was frustrated. I'm trying to have a quiet morning and get some work done but I can't concentrate. Fortunately I have great neighbours and they chased the kids off. It doesn't help for me to try to do anything because seeing me only encourages them.

Unfortunately this isn't an isolated incident. Another day a while ago I was in my bathroom washing my hands when a neighbour girl heard me. There is maybe 3 feet between the wall of our bathroom and the wall of the neighbour's house. On top of that, the water from the sink runs outside instead of into a sewer system. This girl was standing outside and she heard the water so she started yelling "I love you mzungu!". She couldn't see me because I was quite a bit higher and the curtains were closed. But she knew that white people lived in that house and that someone was in the bathroom so she started yelling. It was slightly disconcerting to realize that I didn't even have complete privacy in my own bathroom.

So although there are days when I do wish for a bit more privacy, I like my house and my neighbours and am thankful God brought me here.

What Is Going On????

Every once in a while I find myself in the middle of a unique cultural situation where I wonder what in the world is going on. This last Saturday I landed in one of those.

I had gone over the Bible school where I taught a class last semester. I wanted to say hi to some friends who I hadn't seen since before Christmas. When I got out of the car I heard drums and wondered what was happening. Normally it is pretty quiet around the school and drums signaled something unusual. I had arrived with Hazel and Johnny (friends and colleagues) who also wanted to do some visiting so the three of us headed over to find out what was going on.

As we got closer we saw a group of students standing in front of their dorm and behind the dorm was a long line of people dancing and playing the drums. They were coming up the road through the Bible school. I asked someone what was going on and they said there was going to be a circumcision so the crowd was chasing the boy as part of the ritual. I could see now that the man leading the crowd had something tied around his head and the whole upper half of his body was painted in various colours. The group was moving fairly quickly although they were still a distance away.

I turned to talk to a friend and before I knew it, the group was heading in our direction. They had seen the white people which was an immediate attraction. I began to feel a bit uneasy, wondering what they were going do. I had never seen anything like this before and had no idea what would happen.

Suddenly I was surrounding by the crowd, my friends who I was talking to being forced into the background. The drums were loud, the crowd, mostly men around me, were dancing and the guy who was painted was directly in my face. I stood there, taking it all in, waiting for some cue to let me know what they expected from me. Sure enough it wasn't long in coming, "One thousand shillings will be good" they told me (about $1 CAD). Then I saw the money attached to the forehead of the painted man so I pulled out my wallet and handed over the money which they promptly added to the collection on his forehead. He was wearing some type of headband which they pinned the money to.

Having gotten what they wanted, the crowd took off in another direction. A bit dazed I turned to ask my friends (Tanzanian friends) what had just happened. They said this is a normal part of the circumcision ceremony. The crowd will go around collecting money from friends and neighbours in the morning and then will perform the circumcision in the afternoon. They said it is a bit different in each tribe and that this one is more aggressive than some of theirs that allow people to contribute as they want instead of demanding it.

We had an interesting discussion on circumcision after that and I enjoyed having another glimpse into the Tanzanian culture and seeing one of their traditions.