Africa 3

Tonight I left the safe house at around 5:30 to go for a nice walk in the outskirts of Moshi. I crossed one of the main roads (a small but very dangerous two lane “highway”) and continued walking to the Moshi Gardens. On my way, I noticed the loud sound of some music. Three-hundred feet later I realized where the music was coming from, a very small building to my left. Yet another three-hundred feet and I noticed a small cross at the top of this building. Being the weirdly curious Christian that I am, I decided to poke my head in. Even getting near to the building I was laughed at by a lot of the people surrounding it. Four kids that were playing by the church wouldn’t even return my high-fives or greetings (very-untypical of the Tanzanian people). I understood right away that this church wasn’t exactly the most popular place to be. This was slightly confusing to me considering that so many of the people here are Christian (45% by the almanac and internet accounts that I have seen). 

When I finally walked in I sat down immediately, almost right next to the door. All twenty (give or take a few) of the people noticed my presence immediately, and I was stared at for the next half hour. This bothered me not. I took my hat off (I was wearing the same raggedy clothes that I had been since I arrived, and everyone was dressed quite nicely by African standards). I put my hands together in a praying form, and placed them on the bench so that perhaps my body language would imply that I was a believer. The people were singing and dancing their hearts out. One girl in particular, the singer, nearly cried singing every song. Her voice was BEAUTIFUL, and the passion that she sang with only added to the quality of her praise. At one point the power went out in the building, yet she continued to sing-- her voice carried with immense strength and beauty even without the PA. I was taken back by it all. I had no idea what they were saying or singing, for all I know they could have been worshipping demons. But the feeling in that room did not give me that impression. It is written in Matthew, “Where two or three people gather in my name, I [God] too will be there,” and I could undoubtably feel God’s unique presence in that church. 

When the singing and dancing started, one man started walking around to each of the people. After passing about three or four people, I noticed the fifth one handing him a few coins. Coins, when you are using Tanzanian currency, range from a dollar value of $0.02 to a few rare ones worth about $0.20 (even in Tanzania they are hardly of value). So after two or three of them gave their spare change, I assume the donations added up to no more than 1000 shillings (two-thirds of a dollar). Before offering ended, I very slowly approached the stage. I put my head down, and gave my offering. Me telling you that does not have the purpose of raising up my name-- I am not trying to make a point as to how “generous” I was because I came into a church as a stranger and still gave money. Granted I gave from a sincere place of my heart, my donation had other intentions. My thoughts at the time were simple: 1) God is present here, and this is beautiful-- I will support this cause. 2) If I gave to the church then perhaps the people would welcome me in and understand that my purpose was to join their worshiping of God. I turned around after I put my money in the hands of the pastor, and slowly walked back to my lonely corner in the back of the church. As I started walking back, my strides were met with the loud clapping and screaming of everyone in the building, I couldn’t help but to smile. 

Following the offering they did one more song, during which time the pastor came and sat with me. He was fluent in English, the most educated man I have met on this trip to date. He asked where I was from, and explained a little bit about the church and the service. He then asked me to come up and say a few words. When this happened, he translated my words. I nervously said:

“Hello, my name is Anthony (only in Tanzania I pronounce it An-tone-eee because it is easier form them to say). I am from America (amer-eee-ka). I live in a place called Colorado, where we have many mountains like Kilimanjaro. I was walking to go to Moshi-Town when I heard your beautiful music. Praising God is a universal language that everyone can understand regardless of where they are from, and your worship is beautiful. I love Tanzania, and your people are most welcoming. Thank you for your kindness, thank you for accepting me into your country, and thank you for having me today. God is great, and he loves us all. Thank you.”

I was only asked to introduce myself, otherwise I would have said more. Still the applause and smiles on their faces informed me that my words were taken to kindly. Afterwords I was asked by the pastor to come back Saturday, when they do their “real” and “big” service. Apparently this was just a midweek “fun” gathering? I will be going back every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday. I was certainly blessed to have this experience, I am excited to see where these relationships will go. If a voice in the back of your head tells whispers, “Go,” then I advice you to follow it. You never know where God will lead you. I went out that night just to take in God’s artwork-- the beauty of the area and of the mountains. And I came back with that and more...