CHALRIE HESS

Humorist, Bargain Hunter, but most of all-- a man of Zeal for the Gospel

By Steve Van Nattan

Charlie Hess came from one of the large cities of Pennsylvania, and I think it was Philadelphia. I have no idea where he attended Bible school, for I never paid much attention to those things as a kid growing up in Tanganyika, now called Tanzania. All I knew was that Charlie Hess was never boring.

Charlie was a man who changed his image in a flash. This was not a temperamental thing, but Charlie was able to mentally "seize the moment" long before the cliché became popular. Such men are rare. Charlie could be carrying on a monologue about Rastus and Mandy, and moments be deep into a Bible study or preaching a powerful sermon.

Charlie, like real men worldwide, had a great sense of humor. He also could make himself the brunt of the joke. I recall one day riding into Mwanza from the AIM Mission headquarters complex. The front of our '55 pick up was full, and Charlie, several Africans of the Sukuma tribe, and I were in the back of the pick up. Charlie Hess was doing what he did so well-- telling stories that would have you holding your sides in pain as you roared with laughter. Only this time Charlie was doing this in Sukuma, and the Africans were in stitches. Here is the point-- You don't do this in another language unless you have mastered, not only the language, but the idiom and the thought pattern. Charlie Hess learned the Sukuma language to the point of mastery and beyond.

Is there any blessing in mastering the humor of another culture? The answer is, Charlie Hess knew the Sukuma language so well that his final approval on the Bible translation into Sukuma was respected by the African church. They were sure the translation would be correct if Bwana Hess approved of it. You never really show people you love them until you can pray and preach in their language, but they love you back when you can weep and give comfort in their sorrow, and when you can lay them on the floor with THEIR humor-- humorous tales they have never before heard-- about themselves.

One day Uncle Charlie cornered me-- I was maybe in ninth grade-- and he told me I should accompany him around Mwanza while he bought some school supplies for his grandkids who were about to head off to boarding school. His grandkids went to the same school for missionary kids which I attended. Uncle Charlie was way too heavy really, and he had one terrifying problem. He could not really look behind his Chevy carryall when he backed up. He just tooted the horn and backed up real slow. Well, we headed off for downtown Mwanza to shop. Uncle Charlie was famous among the missionaries in our mission for his uncanny ability to deal and get bargains from the hundreds of small shops, suks, and dukas in the back streets of Tanganyika.

Mwanza is the city on the very south end of Lake Victoria. This city was the government headquarters for the province, and it was rail head for the railway to the coast of Tanganyika. It was the mail port on the south end of the lake, and all commerce in the upper half of Tanganyika moved through Mwanza. Many cultures crossed paths here, and Indians from India by the thousands called Mwanza home. They had moved from India, with its horrid class distinctions, in order to open shops and make a living without the cultural chaos of India hanging around their ears. These Indians became the merchandisers of East Africa. They were at the same time, shrewd, ruthless, deeply helpful, and grateful if they made a shilling off of you. Loyalty is not an Indian virtue in business dealings, but the Indian has a strange way of ripping you off and loving you for who you are.

Charlie Hess had also mastered these strange Indian traits. Once he parked the carryall, he headed off in a rush that was amazing considering his huge size. Uncle Charlie did everything with gusto. We went from shop to shop, and every Indian merchant knew Charlie Hess and seemed genuinely fond of him. Of course, Charlie knew that these friendships could not color his zeal for a bargain. His way of dickering and dealing was amazing. He would push the Indian merchant with words and sorrows and financial limitations-- any logic that worked. I had a hard time keeping up as Charlie would rush from merchant to merchant telling each one that the last fellow made a lower offer. He never lied, and the Indians knew he had the upper hand. A cup of tea was offered by the merchant in order to detain Charlie so as to wear him down if possible.

By the end of the day Uncle Charlie had bought enough ball point pens to last his grandkids all the way through college. He has to buy a large quantity in order to get the best price. He handed me a handful as he rejoiced in his victory. He had also gleaned several other bargains on paper tablets and other school things, and his grandkids were delighted later.

Preaching

Hunting fruit

Visit of Ben Gordon

Furlough and pants

Game playing

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