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YARNS--INTRODUCTORY BLATHER Upon approaching the age of seventy, I have been told that I now have the right to indulge in reminiscence without apologizing. Thus, those of you who venture into this section of the Journal will have to tolerate my attitude, if you please, and I hope that I can reward you in some small way with strange stories of my past experiences. The baboon in the picture looks very much like the ones who stole my mangos as I was growing up in Tanzania. Hopefully, I have acquired a few more civilizing traits than this fellow, but I think he is very much in context on this page. They are almost as troublesome as the IRS. |
Christ
Jesus is due all credit for anything I may contribute to life. I shall not, however;
make silly scenes of false humility. My life has been rather colorful at times,
not because of my own cleverness, but because my Lord has graciously chosen for
me a life trail which is rather fun to look back over.
Elizabeth is my good wife, and she was my class mate at Rift Valley Academy in Kenya. She is consulted on these yarns since she was with me in many of them. She will add some of her own stories along the way. We now live in the Hill Country of Texas. If you cannot live in Texas, at least try to get close.
Come by, and we will roast some Harrar coffee and boil the ibrik (Arab coffee pot), and we'll spin a yarn on the front porch. We make wog chai (African tea) for those who appreciate it. Our tea comes from an Indian duka in Austin, Texas-- special import quality, AND a bakshish thrown in. If you need it badly, we have wimbi (red millet) on hand and can make up a pot for you. We have teff for you Ethiopians-- call ahead so we can get the leet aged properly.
For several years I have thought of gathering my experiences, along with those of my past friends, and writing a historical fiction of a missionary's kid in Africa. Forget it. Life is too busy to figure out the details. So, what follows is partly mine, partly yours, and partly someone else's. This is a lot easier than making it all into a historical fiction, and some of my old friends will find themselves in the stories. I shall try to avoid getting anyone in trouble by telling secrets :-)
Someone once said, and it might have been me, "Don't look back when things are getting rough-- Look back when times are good now. The past will add peace to the moment at hand."
If you want to see chronology, go to my BIO PAGE TO BROWSE.
Also, a more detailed BIO PAGE FOR THE JOURNAL
Enjoy.
COMPANION BLOG:
Someone in the hut has the short-wave radio on.
Click on the door, say "Hodi,"wait to hear "karibuni," and you may enter and hear the Mwanza Town Choir singing. Enter with many Jambos and quiet kindnesses, and you will be invited to stay for chai and mandazi (fried corn fritters).
Mind your manners and be a blessing in any way, and I promise you, you will be invited to stay for ugali na kuku (corn meal mush and curried chicken.) If you hear a chicken out back squawking it is too late to decline-- your supper is already being prepared :-)
My
Daddy recorded the
Mwanza Town Choir
in the 1970s. He played
the bass
in those days.
Mwanza is a small sleepy
but industrious city at the
south
tip of Lake Victoria
in Tanzania.
This man lived there, and this man still loves the music of the saints in Mwanza.
If my Lord let me live out the whole of his coming Messianic Kingdom in Tanzania, I would be happy for one thousand years.
Listen to the Mwanza Town Choir as you visit here.
More African Music on this site
Nostalgia for 1950s BBC junkies
