Final Thoughts and Lessons Learned

With the children of CMC TZ Mission Church after Sunday service.

Watoto: Swahili word meaning children

Missionary work is truly a calling and a gift from God. The missionaries who work in Tanzania are born with this gift, but I realized that I definitely don't have this calling.

Some may see my photos and think “how can these people live under such deplorable conditions?” But this is just the way these people live, and everyone is happy and friendly and constantly smiling. This is their way of life, just as high speed internet and 10 lane highways are a way of life for us. Of course if they can obtain better medical care, cleaner water, etc those things would be wonderful to have. But just because they don't have those things does not make their lives any less substantial or worse than ours.

Despite their many cultural idiosyncrasies that we as westerners cannot understand, Tanzanians have a warm and gentle innocence that radiates from their happy demeanor and ease of carriage. Although Tanzanians often do not own many material possessions, they are also incredibly generous and love to connect with their peers and community. Maybe we can learn a few things from the people of this country.

Please continue to keep the mission and the people of Tanzania in your thoughts and prayers for its continued support and growth both spiritually and operationally.

This trip is now over, but the journey most certainly is not.

Q&A with Missionary Kim Part 3

Missionary Kim visits with Mama Andreas, a member of the church

This is the final installment in the series of questions that I asked Missionary Kim about her work in Tanzania.

1. What are some of the ways you have seen changes in people's lives demonstrated by their acceptance of Christ?

After accepting Christ, many men have stopped drinking and use their money to buy food for their wives and children. Alcohol is available very cheaply here and some men used all the money they had to buy the local grain alcohol instead of providing food for their families. 500TShs of food will not fill a belly, but 500TShs of alcohol will fill one up.

Also, polygamy is an accepted custom here. We cant reject a man just because he has more than one wife. But we can affect how they live their lives going forward. After accepting Christ, the men say they will not take on more wives.

2. How did you get your start in the pharmaceutical distribution business that largely funds many of your missionary initiatives?

When I first started the business, it was truly god's blessing. A medical researcher from Korea had come to Tanzania to conduct research on tropical diseases. He also happened to be a deacon at his church. Since I'd been in the country for a while, I showed him around and got to know him a bit. He had an existing relationship with Shin Poong [SP] (a Korean pharmaceutical manufacturer) and told them about me as a person in Tanzania who is of good faith running an import/export business. He also told SP that if they supported me, their products will be able to gain traction in this part of the world. SP contacted me and I conducted the research to tell SP what kinds of medicines were needed in Tanzania. Despite having no pre-existing relationship with me, SP sent two containers of medicines sight unseen without any upfront payment. I really feel this was God's way of helping me. I didn't know these people at all, and SP's cost of goods was nearly $250,000, a huge sum even today. There was no collateral, nothing. I paid them back over 3-5 years. That's how I started off. But my focus was on the mission so I didn't prioritize the business. Of course I worked hard on the business as well and as the years went by it didn't do too bad.

3. You have a lot of moxie*

My boldness (Korean: 배짱) is all I have. My stupid boldness. I started my missionary work without the formal support of a church. Of course I didn't accomplish everything on my own. But I believe that I was part of God's plan.

*moxie |ˈmäksē|  noun informal

force of character, determination, or nerve : when you've got moxie, you need the clothes to match.

Good Samaritan Hospital and Dispensary

Dr Ezekiel consults with a patient

The room was warm and damp. A slight breeze was coming in through the half open doorway, but it wasn't enough to cool off the stifling humidity emanating from all bodies present. A woman was giving birth and in the room was her mother, the doctor delivering the baby, myself, and another patient who had given birth to twins the day before. All seven of us eagerly awaiting the baby's arrival. I watched in a simultaneous feeling of amazement, disgust, wonder, and joy as the baby's slimy little head emerged from an opening about 4 inches long.(*) The moments leading up to the delivery felt drawn out and painful, but once the head was about halfway out, the rest of its body slipped out easily and the baby started to cry. No anesthetics, no machines. Just the blue plastic bed lined with a few sheets of khangas that the patient herself brought. Doctor Ezekiel expertly clamped and cut the umbilical cord with confident hands and the baby's grandmother collected the soiled sheets to dispose of the afterbirth.

Good Samaritan Dispensary, the medical clinic founded and operated by the mission, sees a wide variety of cases. Most involve prenatal care and delivery, infectious disease diagnoses and treatments (typhoid, malaria, schistosomiasis), sexually transmitted diseases, and HIV counseling. Ezekiel told me that AIDS prevalence in this part of the country runs around 20-30% mainly due to lack of education on preventative measures and a culture that condones sex with multiple partners via polygamy.

There's certainly lots more I can say about this clinic, but for now, please pray that the patients will find healing, that the existing staff will have enough knowledge to make wise and informed decisions, and that the work of the clinic will become a witness to the power of Christ in this remotest part of the world.

(*) This is why men pay for women when they go out. Guys, we'll pay for your dinner once you have a slithering little creature slide out of your nether regions in the name of reproduction.

Mama Kinara

Mama Kinara, left, kisses her youngest daughter as her oldest daughter looks on

With her broad smile and friendly demeanor, it's easy to forget that Mama Kinara has the stretched earlobes and white beaded jewelry characteristic of the Wataturu tribe. She and her family have been attending CMC Tanzania Mission Church for 8 years. Before accepting Christ, her husband Kinara was known as the man who would get drunk and pass out on random street corners only to be found by other villagers so that his frustrated wife could fetch him. He now proudly owns a large plot of land that he farms with his wife and seven children and has cut back significantly on his drinking. Mama Kinara is Kinara's second wife. Since accepting Christ, Kinara chose not to take on an additional wife after the death of his first wife. Mama Kinara and her husband attribute many of their life's positive changes to their acceptance of Christ. Their family is a proud testament to the power of God's grace at work.

Q&A with Missionary Kim Part 2

Missionary Kim and Missionary Ahn under the papaya tree in their backyard

By popular request, here are some other details that Missionary Kim shared with me regarding her ministry. In addition to the church they established in Makungu in 1997, Missionaries Ahn and Kim also started and manage the Good Samaritan Dispensary founded in 2002, the VETA Nuru Kuu Technical School founded in 2006, and the Good Seeds Microloan Project founded in 2008.

1. How did the Good Samaritan Dispensary come about?

When we first came to Makungu, a woman named Mama Kitabu (Kitabu's mom) would come and observe us. We couldn't communicate, but each morning she would bring us fresh water that she carried on her head in a bucket. We were so grateful. All we had to offer in return was bread that we had brought to eat ourselves. But we needed to eat it too, so we were only able to offer her maybe half a loaf. She had never seen bread before. We showed her how to eat it by putting a bit of sugar on it. The bread was so tender compared to the boiled corn and grains they traditionally eat here and her children loved it. After our initial time in Makungu, we posted a local Tanzanian missionary to work there and we returned to Dar es Salaam. However, this missionary had twin boys and one had died and so we returned to Makungu.

When we returned, we expected Mama Kitabu to visit us daily, but she only came once and didn't come again. We heard that her child had been sick and later we heard that the child had died. That made Missionary Ahn and myself consider "What did God really want us to do here?" and we prayed about this. At the time, the nearest hospital from which to obtain antibiotics was six hours away on a bicycle and the roads were terrible. There were no locally available antibiotics and these pele were dying without ever hearing the gospel. So Missionary Ahn and I decided to build a hospital. The clinic was actually built in 1999, but we couldn't find a doctor willing to work in this rural part of the country until 2002. We had no money and no supporters, but we built it on faith.

2. How did the VETA Nuru Kuu Technical School come about?
Because of the low rate of literacy here, the gospel was always shared orally. But in order to teach the gospel properly, you need to be able to read the Bible. Then the word will travel from your mind to your heart. That's the idea. When Missionary Ahn and I decided to start the school, she said "When you first came to Tanzania, wasn't it to originally help me start a school and that was the first thing you wanted to do way back then?"

The school started out as a three year elementary school aimed at teens and older youths who had missed their opportunity to attend traditional schools. We taught them in three years what is covered in seven years at regular schools. There were children who went to regular Tanzanian schools for years but couldn't read any Swahili or English and could barely write their own names, but they would come to our school and learn to read after just a few months. The parents were thrilled about that, but this was a very small minority. This was because once they completed their elementary school education, it added no value to the family's livelihood. These teens were the most useful people of their households. They can farm the land, tend the cattle, fetch and transport water, and most importantly, run errands. This role is very important since the infrastructure for communication is not too good here so the youths were used to relay messages to people scattered across the towns. And the school was holding onto this most valuable source of communication. The people of Makungu have lived this way for hundreds of years, and thought school was a good for their children in theory, but couldn't afford to have them tied up for three years and not work. And the effort required to run the school successfully was too substantial to warrant this type of reception. So we came up with the idea of a one year technical school. Here, people would not only learn to read, but would also learn a trade that can result in income. We currently teach sewing and incorporate classes related to Christian doctrines into the curriculum.

3. How did the Good Seeds Microloan Project come about?
In 2005, Missionary Ahn and I attended a seminar for missionaries in Pasadena CA held by a well regarded Christian organization called OM. There was much talk about the “ｰRice Christian”｡ｱ in China during this semina– ? people who only come to church when they get a something for free, like rice. But we didn't wan“ ｡ｰrice christia”s,｡ｱ we wanted something different. So we started the microloan project by offering somethiwofold. On one hand, we offer the gospel, and on the other hand we offer them a way to survive. We wanted to give confidence. We wanted them to see this microloan as God's money and see it work in their lives and transform them.

It's like a revival meeting when the loans are given out with the whole town gathering and the elders “ｰpraising the Lord”｡ｱ We instruct them on how to use and not use the loan money. Matthew 13:8 says that with a small seed, you can reap a crop 30-60 times what you invested. Of course money has its inherent problems. But I believe that even with theseroblems, this is God's work and I have confidence that things will work as He intends. If God is willing, things will work and if He isn't, then it won't. We went through four rounds of loans. During the first round, we charged 7% interest. The bank was charging 24%. We were paid back 100% in round 1, 98% in round 2, 76% in round 3 and 88% in round 4. Obviously, we lost some money, but we see this as part of God's work. Some people say we're profiteering from being missionaries. But what we were doing was giving people empowerment.

As an example, one bucket of peanuts can be bought for 1200 Tshs in the rural areas about three hours away on bicycle and sold at the weekly Makungu market for 2800 Tshs. They may not sell all their goods, but if they manage to sell everything, this is big money for them. Our microloan enabled people to purchase these peanuts at a lower price and with a bit of extra effort to obtain them, sell them for a profit. And we have seen some people succeed at this.

Part 3 of my interview of Missionary Kim will be published shortly. If you have anything specific you'd like to ask, please let me know and I'll do my best to include their answers :)

Random Baby

What am I supposed to do here?

Khanga: large piece of traditional Tanzanian fabric worn by women serving many functions including skirt, top covering, and baby carrier

The baby was literally dropped in my lap by a little girl no more than five years old wearing a tattered green dress. The baby was partially wrapped in a khanga and writhed and cried as it stared up at me, the freakish white person. My mom explained that part of the custom in this country is to greet female visitors by having them hold the baby of the household. We were visiting a member of the church and I was seated near the entry door of the church member's house. The giggly little girl quickly disappeared and I was left holding the unconsolable baby. I could see my own reflection in his large brown eyes.

Crime and Punishment

Cows being sold at the weekly market

There was loud commotion outside with men yelling at each other and people running around. The evenings here in Makungu are usually very quiet save for the blaring of the evening talk radio. But this night was definitely different. A young man of about 23 years old was apprehended for stealing tomatoes, probably about a bushel. Old traditional laws still have a grip over this small agrarian town, and the typical punishment for theft is either to cut off the thief's hands or to burn their bellies. This particular young man was tied to a stake and about to be burned alive. Just before the fire was set, his wife came to plead with the townspeople for his release. She offered two cows in exchange for his release and the young man was set free. The commotion was caused by the townspeople rushing over to feast on the cows that were slaughtered in exchange for the pardon of the young man's crime. This man's family paid for a bushel of tomatoes with two cows. Crime does not pay; especially if you get caught.

Water

Rashidi, far right, and the boys collect water. A washer woman can be seen in the distance further right

Askari: Swahili word meaning "guard" or "soldier"

Rashidi and the neighborhood boys used colorful plastic buckets to collect the brown murky water that had accumulated in shallow puddles along the stream. They dumped the contents of their buckets into a black plastic tank behind a waiting tractor. Rashidi's payment to the boys for their help in loading the water tank is a ride on the tractor back to the house. Nearby, a woman was doing her laundry while an older man was shoveling sand to create yet another puddle in which water could accumulate. This water is the artery of this small village. Now is the wet season when water is plentiful and water can be carried away by the bucketful. During the dry season, holes need to be dug underground to access this water and askari are used to protect this water from pillagers. If you submerge your hands about 6 inches deep, you can't see your hands under this water. This is what the locals use for washing and drinking. Rashidi is part of our house staff collects water this way 2-3 times a day for our washing and watering the garden.

Funny sidenote:  I'm under my tree uploading this post and as usual I have a small crowd of children looking over my shoulder while they take a break from herding cows.  I show the kids the picture I uploaded for this post and turns out one of the kids is in this photo!  LOL I just met him.  He's the one on the far left and his name is Musa.  Cute.

My Office

Working hard under the internet tree

This part of Tanzania has no indoor plumbing or electricity. We collect water from the river or use rain water and use solar panels to collect energy. But one thing it does have is a cell signal, and thus, an internet connection. About 100 yards away from the house is this large baobab tree that I affectionately call “the internet tree.” This is the closet spot to the house that gets a cell signal so I often walk here carrying my computer, modem, and a small folding chair. Here I can make phone calls and check my email. I love to sit under the shade of the internet tree while I wait for web pages to load and listen to the nearby cows being herded, say hello to the locals as they walk by, or try to communicate in my broken Swahili to the small crowd of children that sometimes gather to look at the computer.

Sometimes I feel like I should be in a cell phone commercial to demonstrate the wonders of technology in the remotest parts of the world.

Q&A with Missionary Kim

Interviewing mom at the tamarind tree

Sometimes we forget that our parents are not only here to nag us about relationships and remind us of our shortcomings, but they are also adults who need to make both rational and emotional decisions about their lives. Here are some questions I posed to Missionary Kim aka "mom" about some of her choices that led to life in Tanzania. She is currently 64 years old and has been living in Tanzania since 1992 and running the Wataturu mission with Missionary Ahn since 1997



1. What motivated you to leave Los Angeles for Tanzania?
I came with the intent to work with my good friend Missionary Ahn who was already here with her Christian ministry work. When I first arrived in Dar es Salaam, the international airport was smaller than a rural train station in Korea. As I left the airport, I thought "Wow, there are people in the world living like this."  The Tanzanians were very poor materially, but they have very pure spirits. So I felt that that would make it easier to lead them to Christ


2. How did you begin your work in Makungu with the Wataturu tribe?
When the church Missionary Ahn and I established in Dar es Salaam was approaching self-sufficiency, we began conducting research into ministry for the "unreached people." The information for the Wataturu tribe came from an 8.5x11 sheet of paper published by an American organization called Africa Inland Mission. The sheet of paper showed a map of Tanzania and the location of the Wataturu tribe as a dot this map. At the time, I was looking for an opportunity close to Dar es Salaam. And we wanted to find an area that didn't already have an established church.

From there, we met with a man from the Wataturu tribe. During this meeting at his house, I watched hundreds of cattle trotting into their pens as the sun was setting over the horizon. It was an amazing site, almost cinematic. He was not a Christian, but had a positive encounter with some Catholic missionaries in the past and had changed his name to Peter. He strongly urged us to work in his region and from there we went further inland to an even more remote region, Makungu.

3. What are the greatest challenges you face living here?
Ministry standpoint: When I ministered to the people here, I thought that the tribe would simultaneously, all together submit themselves to Christ. But they already had their ways established over hundreds of years. The Wataturu people are not passionate and committal. Rather, they are passive and gentle. They never say always or never. It's very difficult for them to commit to a decision. They will tell you that they will believe God and will surely attend church. Then, they will surely not show up.

Personal standpoint: Water. It has been and still is the biggest issue. The water is currently collected from rainwater into 2000 liter tanks for use in cooking. We also collect water from the nearby stream for cleaning and we chlorinate this water for bathing. Although the water situation has improved over the years, I've gotten very sick from the water and had contracted typhoid more times than I can count. The locals have a certain immunity to the contaminants in the water that we as foreigners unfortunately don't have.

4. Looking back, how do you feel about your decision to come to Tanzania?
I've had a tough life here, and still I haven't accomplished anything really major. But in my own way, I've done the best I could. If I stayed in America, I would have lived my normal life worrying about making rent and earning money. While my health has suffered by my work here, the 15-20 years I spent was not in vain. Some people said I abandoned my children who were in high school and college when I came here. I can now look back on how they turned out many years later. I believe that they were raised even better than anything a parent would be capable of since they were raised by God. I'm really proud of that. *



I actually have a lot more material that I chose not to publish in the interest of length. If you're interested in reading more, I can post another set Q&A relating to Missionary Kim's work in Tanzania. But of course, as always, all comments are welcome :)

Underneath the Tamarind Tree

Working hard underneath the tamarind tree

Because the roof of our house is made of corrugated sheet metal, it provides zero insulation against heat and cold. During the afternoon, it almost feels as if a heater is blasting you in the face. And so we often take refuge outside. Although it gets warm in Makungu, any shade provides a welcome relief with its cooler temperatures and a refreshing breeze. This large tamarind tree is right outside the house and provides space for afternoon relaxation. Several large brown pods of tamarind are hanging low and tempting, but are still green and sour and not quite ripe.

Road to Makungu

Our Land Rover

The journey to Makungu is not for the faint of heart. Off-roading can be fun with its twists and turns and bumps and jolts. But imagine going off-roading for 6 hours straight in a Land Rover that is probably older than you without air conditioning or public restrooms along the way. Squashed in the front seat was the driver we hired in Tabora, myself and mom, bags and bags of groceries and random stuff we were asked to carry that couldn't be stowed in the back because of the bumpy ride. I'm surprised we weren't holding on to a clucking chicken.

The Land Rover apparently IS older than me and used to be an ambulance car in Oman. The box looking thing on top looks like it should have a machine gun welded to it. I like to think of this car as "Jack the Marine." That old guy who is a bit rickety at the joints with his greying hair and loose leathery skin, but as strong and reliable as an ox

Almost there...

As we made our final approach Makungu, a small rainbow revealed itself. It was as if Christ himself was welcoming us! I wonder if this was how Noah felt at the end of the flood.

Overnight in Tabora

Downtown Tabora on Sunday afternoon

Our guest house is 5000 Tshs (Tanzanian Shillings) per night or around US $4 for a double. There's a communal bathroom with two squat toilets, and a sink but no soap or towels. But the room is clean and breezy and the sheets are pressed and white. The mosquito net is draped over my bed and I'm hoping and praying that I don't get a million little bites tonight. The bug spray is making all kinds of critters crawl up the walls, but nothing too intimidating. Mostly small roaches. We flew in from Dar to Tabora this afternoon on Air Tanzania onto a red dirt clay runway. The weather here is much drier and pleasant and there's definitely a small town vibe with the multitude of bicycles cruising around town compared to Dar.

I'm excited to finally continue my journey to the Wataturu tribe of Makungu, our final destination.

Coco Beach at Oyster Bay

On the shores of Coco Beach

The sand felt like gummy clay between my bare toes. It made a chewy sound as I gently stepped across the beach laden with shallow rocks and threads of green seaweed. Small white crabs quickly poked themselves in and out of the sand as the tide waters passed over the shore. Local children played in the distance while an ominous black cloud slowly moved in to provide yet another brief downpour as part of the April rainy season. A cool breeze carried the smell of ocean back to the nearby open air cafe where my mom looked on, awaiting my return.

The eastern edge of Dar es Salaam borders the Indian Ocean and the city has several relatively unspoilt beaches that are very close to the city center. Despite the chaos, poverty, and endless traffic of Dar, scenes like these make me appreciative of this seemingly remote part of the world.

Trash in Dar es Salaam

Typical trashpile, Old Bagamoyo Rd in Mikocheni near mom's house

There's an episode of The Simpsons where Homer gets elected as Sanitation Commissioner and eventually, trash explodes out of every sewer, gutter, and orifice of Springfield. The situation here in Dar is not too different.

There are huge piles of trash along every ditch and open space in Dar. And the parts that don't have such piles have loosely strewn trash lining the dirt sidewalks. The trash isn't exactly the moist sticky disgusting kind. It's more the dry dusty eyesore kind.

I'm not exactly sure what the trash collection situation is here, but apparently a garbage collection system does exist. But no one I spoke to seemed to know exactly how it works. I once saw some men shoveling one of these random garbage piles into a truck. But as you can see, this system isn't working too well.

Live and die by umeme

Umeme:  Swahili word meaning “electricity”

Power outages are a near daily occurrence in Dar es Salaam.  It's always a strange feeling when you're watching TV in your air conditioned room and suddenly things become very quiet as everything powers off and it becomes stifling hot very quickly.  There are three options that you can take when this occurs:

1. Wait it out while sweating like you're in a sauna.  Try to remain calm and not let the heat+humidity combo get to you
2. If you're wealthy enough to afford your own generator, hope that it has enough juice to kick in.   The hum of electricity has never sounded so sweet
3. Escape to a place with good air conditioning and an even better generator – like a hotel

During one of our many umeme outages, we decided to take refuge at the uber fancy Kilimanjaro Hotel in Dar es Salaam where I ordered a bottle of Bitter Lemon.  It's a soda similar to Sprite, but less sweet and not at all bitter as its name would indicate.

It's interesting that in this city of nearly 3 million people, power outages are still a near daily occurrence.  It's like being in a time capsule from the 1970s.

Roadside shopping

Sitting in traffic sucks. And there's a lot of sucky traffic that you have to sit through in Dar es Salaam thanks to the explosion in the number of motor vehicles including the bajaji (three wheeled taxis) and the biki biki (motorcycle). Combine this with the near complete absence of traffic lights, road rules and aggressive drivers and it's a recipe for total gridlock. But whenever there's a traffic jam, you will always find guys walking between cars acting almost like a walking shopping center. In LA, you have Mexicans selling fruit, but these guys take it to a whole new level. 


Some random items I've seen for sale are fairly predictable like newspapers and magazines, cold drinks, fruits and snacks. They also sell a wide variety of household items like dusters, car chargers, cleaning supplies and some really random items like sunglasses, phone cards, childrens books... basically anything that can be carried by hand will be sold to cars waiting in traffic.


A few times, I've seen guys wearing chef hats selling aprons that I always find amusing.

Here's a bajaji in case you're curious.

African church

Pre-Wataturu blogpost 2 from Dar es Salaam, the capitol of Tanzania

Sunday service at Calvary Mission Church in Dar es Salaam

It was feverish. Dancing, singing, sweaty bodies, a frantic yet welcoming energy. No, this is not the latest bumpin nightclub in Hollywood, this is church! I think this was the most fun I had at church in a long time (no offense PCC ;) ) Africans have a natural gift and tendency for music and dancing and instead of whooping to cheer for something, the women quickly tap their tongues against the roofs of their mouths to create a unique howl. I've been to my mom's church in Dar es Salaam many times during my numerous visits growing up, but I don't think I truly appreciated the unique character of the African church until this visit. While the doctrine is still firmly rooted in the gospel, there's this elevated sense of life and energy and desire to connect with God on both a spiritual and physical level.

Maybe I should visit an African American church when I get back to LA :)

What is white?

Pre-Wataturu blogpost 1 from Dar es Salaam, the capitol of Tanzania

Kariakoo, downtown Dar es Salaam around 1pm on Friday

Mzungu: swahili word meaning “white person”

I never considered myself white. Asian American, Korean, or maybe even “chee-nah” or “jah-pahn” depending on what the men on the streets blurt at me at the countries I've visited. To me, white always meant Caucasian people with large eyes, pale skin, and fair hair. But in Tanzania, where the sea of black faces stretch far and wide, even someone of yellow skin like me is considered mzungu. Mzungu appears to represent many things to Tanzanians: financial prosperity and opportunities, physical beauty, cultural oppression, and sometimes, exploitation. It's an interesting feeling to be lumped into the same category as people of European descent. Color, like many other things, is so relative.