Reunion.

Urbano (who accompanied me to the conference [see below]) and his wife, Ruth, hosted Charity and I on our first trip to Tanzania. While 5 years ago, the memories of our three days with Urbano’s family are as clear as ever. These are experiences you never forget.

In fact, the memory is bittersweet. It was our first and deepest encounter with rural poverty here in Africa. And we felt so overwhelmed, so powerless. We knew stories of people on short-term trips whose good intentions left behind a wealth of problems. We did not know how to help this family without creating discord in the larger community. Regrettably, we did nothing.

And when the vast food they provided for us (sometimes the poorest can be the most hospitable) lasted several days in our stomachs, the feeling of guilt lasted years. It provoked theological reflection and instilled within me a desire to study the causes of poverty and best practices of development agencies.

I know a little more know than I did then. One thing I learned: relationships are an asset. This is both a theological truth and an economic reality. And while Urbano understood this reality in 2001, I am starting to understand it now. We are richer when we enjoy the relationships of others, including the poor, like Urbano and Ruth.

So we went driving, this time with two boys, to Lubuga, the Sukuma village that looks just like it did in 2001. The hospitality wasn’t as lavish; the rains came late this season, and the crops did not have long enough to produce a large harvest. Everyone is eating sparingly, as what they have must last until December. Besides, Urbano was eager to show us what he has been doing since returning from the conference.

We looked over his small garden, where he had begun a compost pit, inspired by the conference. This is the first step toward a drip-irrigation pilot project. He is saving to buy a spade to start “double-digging” (a process of soil enrichment that involves much grunt work). It is my job to find the drip lines (thankfully, this is the last step, buying me a little time!).

Then, he took me to his inheritance, so to speak. A 10 hectare plot of land that he purchased with his pension when he retired from teaching. He has been improving it for years, hand-digging a well, among other things. We met his wife, Ruth, there, working on building a house. Charity and Elijah caught up with Ruth, Josiah and I walked the property with Urbano.

Urbano showed us all the improvements he has made over the past few years, the hand-dug well, the water diversion projects, the crops he has been planting. He then talked about the things he has been inspired to do following the agricultural conference, like building a dam to improve both the water supply and the soil fertility, contouring the soil to reduce erosion, and introducing new crops.


But most impressive was Urbano’s disclosure—in his soft-spoken manner—made on our walk to the ridge that comprised the southernmost boundary of his land. He desired to give this land away—not to his family, but to the church. He wanted this land, the reward of decades of teaching school (averaging over 100 students/class!) to be used for the benefit of the people around him, people who have not always been so kind to him, yet are still the object of his compassion.

Maybe a school. Or an agricultural demonstration facility. Or a health clinic. Anything to help his people. And while Urbano certainly doesn’t have the resources to actualize any of these dreams, he does have some land, and a faith that has sustained him, a faith that has taught him to hope in spite of the realities around him.

We stood on the ridge, with Sisal plants on one side, the low sun casting shadows over a land that, for the first time, struck me as beautiful. We prayed together, sharing a hope that united us, as though we had spent decades, not days, together. Then we joined Charity and Ruth, who joined our prayer.

As I write this, with U2’s “One” playing on iTunes, I can’t help but wonder what kind of world we would have if our relationships weren’t so broken, if our individual worlds weren’t so insulated, if our inheritances weren’t so hoarded, or our hopes so limited. What if our lives were as God first intended, harmonious with one another and with the nature designed to sustain us?

The retired teacher was still teaching yesterday. And he will continue to teach me how to truly love, truly share, truly sacrifice. My utopian ponderings require no action, but this reunion requires something more. Theologically, I believe that Christ died to reconcile me to God. But equally important, I believe that Christ died to reconcile me to my fellow human being, specifically, to Urbano and Ruth.

While I don’t yet understand what this means, and certainly don’t like what it requires, I am beginning to see just how valuable these relationships are; standing on the ridge with Urbano, I began to see just how beautiful they are as well.

Healing Hands famine response conference highlights... the good and the bad...

Recovered from a week of Ugali (maize meal boiled in water to make a not-so-yummy stiff porridge), refreshed by hot water showers, and reunited with my beloved family, it is now time to share some of the details of the trip.

Bad: Hearing the stories of famine and its effects in different parts of Africa. Some caused by political upheaval (Zimbabwe), some by locusts and desertification (many West African nations), others by drought (Tanzania, Uganda, Kenya, and others). With 12 countries represented by individuals experiencing the effects firsthand, you learn both the scale and the depth of suffering on this great continent.

Good: Hearing stories of empowered Africans implementing small-scale drip irrigation and soil conservation projects for the good of those around them. Seeing Africans accepting greater responsibility for their situation, refusing to sit around idly until an outside relief shipment arrives.

Better: Seeing Sweetbert and Urbano, our Tanzanian cohorts, subsistence farmers and leaders within the churches we serve, soaking it all in, eager to implement the ideas, inspired by the successes of other Africans. The opportunity was once-in-a-lifetime; the experience a rebirth of sorts. Calvin and I were challenged and convicted to find ways to partner together with these men to serve the long-suffering Sukuma people.

Bad: Kenya Airways. One of the few African airlines conscientious enough to remove an airplane from a flight schedule due to mechanical issues, but not yet skilled in handling inconvenienced passengers, KA left us to sleep on the floor in the Johannesburg Airport.

Good: Utilizing our American skills, we complained ourselves into an upgrade for our return red-eye flight. My first time in business class. I recommend this.

Better: Seeing our friends Urbano and Sweetbert (first-time fliers, no less!) enjoy the premier lounge (part of the upgrade) during our long layover in Joburg. Free drinks! Free food! Hard to think about famine in the first-class lounge.


Bad: My smell and appearance after nine days on the road.

Good: Going on a nine-day trip with only a carry-on sized bookbag for my luggage.

Better: Urbano brought only a half-full briefcase.


Bad: Submerging my phone in water during our overnight in Nairobi en route to the conference.

Worse: The phone was in my pocket during the immersion.

Even worse: The phone is my camera; no pics of the conference, no pics of Victoria Falls.

The worst: No phone contact with Charity and the boys.

Good: The phone is working now.

Better: No need to make $3/minute international phone calls… I’m home!!


Good: Victoria Falls. The conference attendees took an afternoon trip to visit the nearby falls. Unspeakable beauty. Cascades 355 ft. high, and nearly a mile wide, a constant flow interrupted only by jagged volcanic rock.

Better: Urbano and Sweetbert’s reactions to the falls. Their native language doesn’t even have a word for waterfall, they have never seen a waterfall, and they are face-to-face with the world’s most spectacular. Urbano, taking me by the hand: “Kevin, look!!! Behold what God has done!!! No man could have ever dreamed of this!!!” Even the rainbows, multiple vivid arches created by the rising mist and the unimpeded sunshine, were spellbinding to these two men. Urbano, a retired science teacher, nearly missed the bus ride home as he listened to the ranger explain the geological history behind the falls, how the forces of tens of thousands of years created this natural wonder of the world. 70 years old, on his first field trip.


There is much more to say; these notes only touch the surface. Mostly insignificant, really; words have yet to fill an empty stomach. Healing Hands International, the convener of the conference, is implementing a continent-wide initiative to empower people to produce survival gardens; gardens that produce a variety of vegetables to stave off malnutrition, gardens nourished by micro-irrigation to insure continuous crop output, even in the dry season. They will be returning to various regions to conduct larger workshops with local participants; they will be in Tanzania sometime in the next year. Our work is cut out for us.

Forget the good and the bad. The best has yet to be written.

back from Zambia...

returned back last night. The blessing of participating in the conference was equivalent to the heartache of being away from Charity and my boys for nine days. Only contact was a three minute call on a borrowed cell phone and two brief e-mails. I know for some people, travel like this is a regular thing. But I also know someone who refuses medicine during dental work to save money. Some things just aren't for everyone.

many details and anecdotes to share, which I will share later...