*The Indiana Mission Team were front page news in their local paper following their return from Tanzania. Photo/Article courtesy of ‘THE NEWS SUN’ kpcnews.com
Written by Mitch Wysong, Cosperville Team Leader
I looked into the dark eyes of the young African boy as he shuffled his feet in the dusty, red soil of Tanzania. He leaned up against a foundational pillar of the newly constructed Rufiji Lighthouse and extended his hand to touch me, all the while flashing a toothy grin. At this moment my heart was suddenly jolted awake. We were finally here. The wild African bush of the Rufiji, was upon us.
Our team of college age youth hailing from Cosperville Baptist, a tiny church in the cornfields of Indiana, had spent two years preparing for the Rufiji. The youth had raised support to help construct the very building that now stood before me, my team, and the young African boy still touching me. The building, a school was built to teach the Rufiji people the English language and act as a gateway to introducing them to Jesus. Our team believed in this project deeply. The journey had been long, the financial support needed to make the trip had taken its emotional toll and stretched the faith of several of our team members. As we looked upon the school – The Rufiji Lighthouse – backdropped by the jungle wilderness, every team member was smiling, a couple young ladies shed tears of joy. Our hearts were full. The journey had been long, but this moment was everything. It was our first day in the bush. There was much to come.
The first several days of our trip were dedicated to preparing The Rufiji Lighthouse for its grand opening to the people of the nearby Mloka village, and also a tractor would be given at the event as fulfillment of promises past. The Mloka people would come and share in the celebration. More important, EastARM Director Graydon Baker would be sharing the story of Jesus Christ to a people-group steeped in Islam and Spiritualism. There was much to do in preparation. Our team was responsible for applying the brick-red paint to the exterior walls of the Lighthouse. I couldn’t help but smile as the vibrant paint stood as a sharp contrast to the green jungle that bordered the building on all sides. The Lighthouse stood out in the Rufiji bush visually but also spiritually, offering hope in a place that knew little. The name served it well. Other team members were tasked with landscaping duties, clearing the adjacent bush with long machete knives that cracked against the tropical vegetation. After clearing, our little landscape crew would clean the jungle debris so that the school children would have a place to play. The work was hard, but our company was wonderful as we worked side by side with many of the Mloka locals. As the team leader, I appreciated the tireless support of the EastARM personnel and the full itinerary that they provided for our team. We were cared for and valued. From the moment we arrived, there was purpose and need for our working hands; a willing heart would not be put to waste. We would work diligently, serving the Lord under the intense African sun.
Preparation even continued into one of the dark African nights as the soon-to-be donated tractor arrived at the Baker camp from the city of Dar es Salaam. As the old 1970’s style delivery truck slowly rumbled towards camp and the sun fully set, two of my team members and several Tanzanian men stood in the darkness coming to terms with the challenge ahead. The truck bed was a clear five feet off the ground, a ramp would need to be dug to offload the tractor. The flurry of energy was invigorating, Africans and Americans sharing rugged, handmade shovels; working side by side for a common goal. As droplets of sweat fell from my forehead, I glanced over at the African man named Moses sharing my shovel and he warmly smiled back as we talked about our common faith in Christ, our families and home countries. I could not have expected this level of relationship building. All my research of Tanzanian culture paled in comparison to the bond that was formed that night. To work with a man, to share his shovel as well as his faith, to suffer together through a thick African night is to truly know and truly fellowship.
The next morning, I awoke to the distressed bleating of a goat. As I approached the piercing sound streaming through the dense bush I noticed a group of Maasai warriors were huddled around the animal. The Maasai are a tribal group originating in Northern Tanzania. Their traditional red tribal blankets, long slender spears, and six-inch knives highlighted their reputation as fearless men trained in the ancient arts of hand to hand combat. The Bakers had hired several of these warriors as night guards for the camp. As we exchanged greetings, I realized I had shared the night with these men, working to offload the tractor. They smiled knowingly. The Maasai have grown used to white European and American tourists visiting the country. These tourists, while welcomed as an influx of economic opportunity, were viewed with a certain skepticism by the locals. Tourists come, expecting to consume at all levels, to be served and entertained by the best that Tanzania can offer. If the service is not up to their First World expectations, furious reviews can be found online. The expectation was quite surreal as suffering, poverty-stricken Africans are expected to create an environment that was supposedly authentic Tanzania and at the same time luxurious, a concept totally foreign to their actual lives. It is no wonder that the Christian faith of the typically white, North American missionary often falls upon deaf and dying ears. I was determined to be different. Instead of taking from these men, I would share life with them. As I looked upon the frayed, terrified animal, I understood what was about to be done. The goat would be butchered for The Rufiji Lighthouse grand opening feast to the village. Coming from a third-generation farm in Indiana, I knew what death looked like but my instinct had always been to avoid it. To me, it was always as unpleasant as it was necessary. My Maasai friends shared no such hesitation as quickly it became apparent that I was expected to participate in this traditional activity. From my readings of the Maasai, I knew this ritual was viewed as a spiritual act, but it certainly did not feel like ceremony. It was simply a bunch of young men smiling and laughing, sharing in common joy. As the neck of the goat was sliced open, bright red blood came spilling out. Oddly enough, one of the Maasai held a plastic cup slightly under the flow. The cup filled quickly and the young Maasai turning to me, placed the cup in my hands. I was to drink first. My eyes darted from one Maasai warrior to the next, each eagerly awaiting my next move. As I moved the cup towards my mouth, I hesitated once, then committed entirely emptying the cup of its warm, metallic blood. Cheers erupted. I had come as the Mzungu and largely that is how I left, but just for a moment I experience life as a Maasai. Later that week I would be given a necklace that the Maasai warriors made for me as a symbol of their friendship.
On Monday, December 25th, 2017, The Rufiji Lighthouse opening celebration was held midday under that hot Africa sun. Hundreds of Rufiji people would attend. Ribbons were cut, a tractor was gifted, but still most important the story of Jesus was given. This story was new to many of the people in attendance. As our team stood amongst the thick crowd of Africans we realized that we were witnessing a paradigm change in the spiritual battle for the Rufiji community. A half a decade past, the name of Jesus was not known and was not spoken. Through God’s divine hand, the Bakers have been allowed to enter into this jungle setting and with them, a mission, God’s mission to every tribe, tongue and nation. Jesus’ name and story were now being spoken on a public platform to a community that was ready for hope. The English language school was a tool to build that platform. Our team, made up of blue collar families from Indiana, witnessed this event.
During our stay, Graydon could often be heard mentioning Proverbs 16:9, “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps”. This piece of wisdom was a reminder that our plans would never be linear, they would never reach past the Author. The heart of Africa was a constant reminder of this truth. God would always guide the journey, but the path was certainly not pedal-to-the-metal-Indiana-asphalt that this American had grown accustom to. The Rufiji Lighthouse reflected this, a work years in the making. The pathway to opening this ministry was like a winding, African dirt road ridden with plunging potholes. Like riding the bush road into Mloka Rufiji; eventful, breathtaking, memorable, but God got us there.
I was pleasantly surprised to learn one night that our team would be having dinner with an Advanced English class currently being taught through the Lighthouse ministry. The dinner would be headed up by its teachers and EastARM workers, Max and Lischa Woodley. From our lodging at the camp, down a well-worn path cut through the jungle bush we approached the Lighthouse after sundown. I winced at the bright light shining through the doorway. The room was filled with loud chatter and laughing, an African energy that I came to cherish. A room full of young African adults were proudly preparing traditional Tanzanian foods to share with us. My team and the young adults from the Rufiji village sat on rugs over the cold concrete floor of the main school room and hot humid air leftover from the day. We sat around food entirely foreign to our American palates, eager to learn. The students from the English class explained each dish and why it was special to their home country. As they spoke about their country’s food and culture, conversations organically diverted to stories about home, friends and family. Through these common threads of conversation and mutual admiration of the food set before us, many of our team members were able to share stories about their faith in Jesus Christ. Friendships were formed that night that lasted throughout the extent of our trip and even to this day through social media. Our team would spend our days working on construction projects for the mission, hosting a Vacation Bible School with the Rufiji children, and speaking at the small Mloka church plant. Equally important, free time was spent with the students of the Advanced English class playing soccer, eating at local cafes, and exploring the village. I came to appreciate the vision set out for the trip by our hosts, East Africa River Mission. Both structured and unstructured time held purpose. We served God in the Rufiji over Christmas and New Year’s Day, and our time investment was well placed.
We held our prayer meetings at night. The thick air and blazing heat would torment until dinner time. It was almost as if even the wild African climate knew its limits and would slowly retreat to more tolerable levels. During the comfort of night, our team shared the highs and lows of the day, the aches and pains, even the bowel issues that visited unfortunate team members during the trip. We also shared what God was teaching us. One night, a young lady from our team passionately recounted her experience teaching the village children. She had told the children huddled around her that God loved each one of them intimately as His creation. Each child nodded their dark shaven heads approvingly. As she was looking around the group of children, she realized what she was telling them. Many of the children in the small circle were malnourished, evidenced by their slight figures and orange-tinted hair. Few of the children had fathers actively involved in their lives. All were poverty-stricken, simply looking for the next meal to put into their young bodies. Like a thief, corruption denied these children the basic opportunities that every child should have. As our team listened to the account, we understood. The message of the Gospel cuts deep in the face of suffering. As fellow humans, we had formed bonds of friendship. The connections were mutual and genuine. The suffering we witnessed every day in the village exposed and wounded our hearts anew. We were not tourists, as was our goal, but we had not lived their lives either. These children, the people of Mloka desperately need the grace of Jesus, to transform their community, their parents and leaders. We are the vehicle of that grace. By God’s establishment, walking in the steps of ministries like East Africa River Mission that are purposefully transforming the spiritual landscape deep in the wild heart of Africa. We too were transformed, and we will never be the same for it.
Editor’s Note: Christmas 2017 into New Year’s Day the young adults from Cosperville, Indiana joined as the first team serving with East Africa River Mission on project in the Rufiji. Over a period of ten days, the team painted The Rufiji Lighthouse and assisted in its grand opening outreach event to Mloka village, they planned and accomplished a week-long Vacation Bible School to a regularly packed room of local children, they helped along construction of the new Sunday School structure at the church and shared testimony daily over breakfast with the workers, they dined Tanzanian style, competed with the villagers in sport, cruised the Rufiji River, bravely journeyed into the animal game reserve on safari, dipped their toes in the Indian Ocean, danced with Maasai, and represented their Saviour with distinction. They are to be commended for the money they raised to help build the Lighthouse and their footsteps are to be followed by others.
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