Sanga Sanga

When we travel out into villages for Sunday worship, we never know what to expect. This Sunday was no exception. Our day began with a later start than usual because the congregation we were going to is one of the closest to where we live. One problem: there are no roads in an even remotely direct route to our destination. We drove and drove through windy, potholed roads through the bush, unable to distinguish many landmarks of any kind. The roads fork constantly, feeling like a maze where there are a thousand different options, and only one path leads to the destination. What began as a short journey turned into a 3 ½ hour drive to get to church. We joked about it being a lovely Sunday drive but wished we had some snacks to munch on. Finally, after winding through many kilometers of road through the bush, we spotted two people waiting on the side of the road to show us the rest of the way. What a welcomed sight! (This was a much longer commute than our walk across the parking lot to church in Sidney, MT!)

We arrived at Sanga Sanga church, which was yet another beautiful tree. A school had been built by the government and we were given a tour. The teacher in me was of course interested in the classrooms. The only book I saw was entitled, How to de-worm school-age children. Most classrooms didn’t have chalkboards, instead writing with charcoal on the smooth concrete wall. The first grade classroom had basic math facts written on the board and small rocks on the desks to use as manipulatives. Much different than a classroom in the States, but it was fun for me to see.

After the tour, we sat visiting for quite some time. The people in the village were of the Barabiag tribe as opposed to Maasai, who we are usually with. As we were talking, many young men gathered under a tree and began singing a repetitive tune with harmony, accompanied by distinctive whistling and the pounding of their sticks on the ground to create rhythm. Then, some young women came out and stood under another tree wearing beautiful beaded skirts, lots of gold jewelry, and some with bells around their ankles. The men continued singing, and then one or two at a time would jump. I’m not talking just a little hop – they jump incredibly high without using their arms or even bending their legs. It was absolutely beautiful. After a man would begin jumping, a woman on the other side would jump in sync, her bells adding to the music. We aren’t exactly sure what the significance of this is, but apparently it is some type of traditional dating ritual. One man was quite persistent that I should join the women, but I explained, as did many others, that I already have a husband.


By this time, it was late afternoon – finally time to begin church. In a way it was nice not to have church in the hot mid-day sun, but we knew we had a long return trip ahead of us, and driving at night in Tanzania isn’t a great idea. After church we had a quick meal of rice and hit the road. Just as we left, it began to rain. If you read our last post, you know this creates less than ideal road conditions. The way out was just as complex as the way in with winding roads surrounded by indistinguishable trees, and a series of forks in the road. The problem was that darkness was setting in and it was pouring. The road turned into a river, making it impassable. We drove along the edge of a shamba (field) until it was too washed out to continue. Crossing gushing creeks, a road that consisted of mini-waterfalls, and sometimes not on a road at all, it was amazing we made it home. We did, though, and in great time – we shaved 2 ½ hours off our time. What a day. Let me tell you, sometimes a shower and bed feel mighty fine at the end of the day.