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.