I think it was Hemingway who wrote a short story entitled “A Clean Well Lighted Room”. What I remember about the story was the importance of having a simple place but a place one could rest in peace. I think I have found this place at a Missionary Group’s Society House close by Lake Victoria.

There is a retired French priest-missioner takes care of the place who doesn’t speak English, I don’t speak French, so we speak Kiswahili to each other. Such is our global village that in one conversation we can put an English and French accent on an African language.

The room has a small wooden desk with chair, a comfortable sturdy chair for reading and a bed. This room becomes my ‘cell’ where I take morning naps to get over the fatigue of the weekend, pray, write and reflect on how my life is going. One really does not need a lot of ‘stuff’ to rest. As matter of fact it’s better to have as little ‘stuff’ as possible so not to be distracted from authentic rest. After all one truly needs is a ‘clean well lighted room’ and a willing heart and God does the Rest.

Going through Mwanza is like going through a construction site with various buildings in different stages on completion. The outstation church I have been celebrating mass has the walls but no roof. So before mass starts on Sunday the Christians put on two large tarps labeled “UNHCR Refugees” to give some of the Church protection from the intense tropical sun during the mass. Well, today the people responsible, who were women, had no men around to help them climb up the rafters to fasten the huge tarps(men usually do this work).

So, we started mass without any shade but in the beginning it was fine because the clouds blocked the sun. That lasted 5 minutes then the sun began to burn into our skins. At the end of mass during the announcements, someone mention that we didn’t even have the altar area covered. I joked that I was about ready in faint and it is not enough to be concern about the altar, what about the people who sat through a hour and half mass in the tropical sun.

After mass I was invited to a meeting. Where? In the same church without a roof or cover. The meeting lasted an hour during which I struggle to position my chair in the tiny space where there was some shade. As least I had my baseball hat on during the meeting. I should of had it on during mass. Living in Africa is learning to be patient with the shortcomings like not having a roof. People put up with extraordinary difficulties. So who am I to complain if the UNHCR traps where not put up for mass. There are probably some refugees missing their tent.

Proverbs are a traditional way to convey wisdom and morals for the people. A favorite of mine is, ‘Haraka, Haraka, Haina Baraka’ (fast fast there is no blessing). But things change, just the other day I heard from a wise friend that now the proverb goes, ‘Fast fast there is blessing’. Yes, the speeded up globalized world has come to Africa, big time.

Still there is a wide gap for foreigners to overcome in regards to how time is understood. It is one of the major sources of frustration for the guest. One makes an appointment, then waits for two hours. The problem occurs when having strong expectations that the exact time of the appointment will be kept.

Yesterday I tried the African way of keeping time. I had two appointments to keep but I told the second one that when I’m finished with the first I’ll call him to meet with him. One is never sure because of so many factors that come in between what one had planned and what actually happens. For example in this case the women I needed to see was late 30min because of a big rain storm and a traffic jam. We were delayed even more because the road we had to take to our destination was partially destroyed because of the rain. So, overall I was one hour late from what I was hoping for the second appointment but no problem I had not set a time. I just called up my second appointment and told him that I was ready. He was patiently waiting, understanding how time works here.

When I ask someone their name there is usually a pregnant pause as the person runs through the list of names in their mind. There is the traditional tribal name given to a newborn of one of the ancestors who have passed on. Then there is the Christian name given at baptism. There is also the nickname which they usually answer to. Then there are the names used to get another try at a test they failed, so one buys another name to retake the test.

This week I went to visit the last architect I dealt with for the building of my former parish (I dealt with three different architects during that time). The head architect introduced to a young woman with 5 years experience. Her name is Maria Hildebrand Byzana. She told me a bishop gave her the baptismal name of Maria, her uncle the name of the saint Hildebrand. Byzana is here tribal name.

She relayed to me she has had experience creating healing environments for the mentally ill. I was glad to hear this because the House of Prayer will be a healing space for many of us undergoing mental pain. I mentioned to Maria Hildebrand that many women in the United States look to Saint Hildebrand for her example of creativity and leadership. Maria Hildebrand never knew of the richness of her name. She smiled and said she would look her namesake up. I’m pleased to start out with Maria Hildebrand Byzana as my architect. A good sign that God is doing something new with the House of Prayer.

Today I was part of a 4hr liturgy with Archbishop Ruwa’ichi as he finished up his 3 day pastoral visit at Kirumba Parish (where the House of Prayer will be). There were close to 200 people who received the Sacrament of Confirmation. Gifts given, songs sang, dancing by the 200 member choir.

At the end of the mass the Bishop invited me up to the altar with him and introduced to the people. This was important to get the support from the “Mzee” (the elder leader). Things are personal still in this part of Africa. One’s age, character, tribe, body, voice, vision, the manner in which on carry oneself are all important. Getting the “Mzee’s” validation in front of a crowd of around 2,000/ will make my life a bit easier.

I’m known in another part of this big city of Mwanza but here only a few people know me. Now, if I need help or advise the chances are there will be someone around to assist me. One becomes a somebody with the introduced of a somebody. One still can make a name for oneself by using one’s full humanity for the good of others.

Today I spend a good part of the morning with the Contractor-Engineer who did most the building of Mabatini Parish. Mr. Chassa is a very religious man, intelligent and cares much about the quality of his work. The main reason I have returned to him to help him build the Lake House of Prayer is that I trust him. The building industry is very corrupt with hardly anyone one can turn to for some good advice without a price on it.

We went out to the site so I could show him the land. What I’d like to do is build a temporary fence and a one room house so I can start living and praying out there. I have only enough money to do the above but it will be an important step to get me out of the Bishop’s house and onto the Lake House of Prayer land. The living will be simple and yet that is what I am looking for. To live simply, to pray and live like a brother with the people.

I am continuing visiting the ‘kayas'(people’s homes) in the Ibanda area. This exercise is probably the best thing I can do here, period. The expressions on the people’s faces of welcome and joy when they welcome me into their very humble homes. Many are just shacks with corrugated metal roofs, mud brick walls that have the feel that they could fall on you any minute, a very small window, if that to let in some light because there is no electricity.

I am accompanied by the leaders of the Small Christian Community with some of its members. We climb into a small room using rocks as steps. The room is usually packed with a few stools, a bed, containers of all shapes for water and cooking. The room is very functional but not very attractive and why should it be when you making $2 a day?

We talk, tell each other about ourselves a bit. We pray. Sometimes there will be a sick person that we are asked to pray for. I try to make it as comfortable as possible for the people. After all in their very existence there are not very many areas of comfort.

Tanzania is a very, very tough country to live in if you are poor. It is very hard to cope if you have no resources and are just struggling to eat at least once a day(some people can eat only every two days). The climate is right for a earth denying spirituality where people withdraw into a world where they are disconnected to the painful earth. Everything becomes a Satan. Fear is always causing people to run away from Satan.

The Catholic Charismatics and other Pentecostal groups are very big now. People deal with their social and psychological problems through the spirit world of exorcisms. There is no psychological support for growing mental illnesses. People are losing hope in their government (which is corrupt). Where to they turn? To ‘miracle workers’ who ‘drive’ out the ‘demons’ that are oppressing the people, while ignoring the political-social system that is doing the harm.

The challenge is to help the poor deal with their pain by keeping their feet on the ground. By facing their psychological problems in a healthy manner. So much the demonic possession here is from a false sense of evil that is produced by thinking Satan is King. Perhaps the House of Prayer can help people be healed of their struggles in a holistic manner in which Christ heals the illusionary power of Satan.

Many times what you plan doesn’t come out how you hoped. In a poor country like Tanzania one may fail a lot more times that one would in the United States. So one needs to get used to failing. Not a pleasant prospect, but in the long run having a creative attitude towards failure helps your ‘lastability’ here.

Yesterday I met with a Small Christian Community close to the area of hoped for House of Prayer. I prepared and gave a talk on praying the Bible with your family. I thought I gave a decent understandable, even doable talk. Then I ask asked the group what they thought. Blank stares. I looked at one of the leaders and ask her if what I suggested is doable in their family, she just shook her head NO. One gets an empty feeling in one’s stomach like a flat tire.

I took a deep breath and changed the subject. Not the best thing to do but when your low on air, perhaps it is the only thing one can do. A key is to lessen the recovery time from the failure and see how you can improve later on what you failed on.

Perhaps some are wondering what is happening with the building plans. I am waiting for 4 of the missing beacons to be placed showing part of the borders of the property. This involves going through government channels, which can take a lot of time. Here waiting is a must.

This waiting time is beneficial for me for it gives me an opportunity to continue to visit the Christians in the area. It also gives me the chance to reflect and pray on what kind of a house I want to build. One option is to build a small one room mud brick house like most the people have or build a concrete block house with a couple rooms, a kitchen and an indoor toilet.

The mud house would be temporary but it would show my desire to live in solidarity with the people. It would involve a lot of time just doing survival jobs like hauling water. Veteran Missioners in Maryknoll having a saying, “Go local and go home”. One must discern for his or herself how to take care of one’s health and live simply in solidarity with the people. I will never have to face what the poor have to face everyday as they peer into death’s eyes but perhaps somehow I can live in such a way they could authentically call me their friend.