Wedding Invitation

On Saturday, Paul and I are going to a wedding in a Burunge village. The sister of our co-worker, Magdalena, is getting married, and we were invited.

Wedding invitations work a little differently here in Tanzania than they do in the United States. If you receive one and plan to attend, along with your reply, you are expected to give a donation. For this particular wedding, the invitation states that a couple should donate 15,000 shillings (approx. $11 US) and a single person should donate 10,000 shillings (approx. $7 US).

Unlike weddings in the United States, the bride's family does not pay for the event. After the wedding cost is determined by the families involved, it is the couples responsibility to raise the funds, hence the donations. Family, friends, acquaintances, and even friends of friends (which is us in this case) might all receive invitations.

I'm looking forward to the wedding, but I'm also a little nervous too. It will likely be a full day of speaking Swahili, which still isn't the easiest thing for me, especially when I'm feeling nervous and unsure of myself. Also, I might be separated from my safety net (a.k.a. Paul) for much of the day. In Tanzania, and especially in village settings, men and women are often seated separately and participate in different portions of the event. It will probably be one of those times when I have to push myself out there and try while doing my best not to worry about messing up.

On the other hand, I'm excited because this will be my first opportunity to see a Burunge village and it will be my first time to attend a wedding in this culture. It will be interesting to learn more about how these events work. I'm also looking forward to hearing Burunge spoken by a larger audience.

I'll let you know how it goes.

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Update: Well, I can't let you know how the wedding went, because at the end of the week, Paul hurt his neck and Josiah had a virus, so we were unable to go. We were disappointed to miss out on the experience, but surely another opportunity will arise in the future.

Taco Night

Last week, a bunch of our colleagues were in Dodoma for a Literacy and Scripture Use conference. Two of our friends, Ellen and Jo, stayed with us for the week, and we had a lovely time catching up and hanging out.

Oh, and we cooked for them. Both Paul and I love entertaining, so the first night everyone arrived we had a taco feast with Jo, Ellen, and the McCall family. I made 24 flour tortillas, guacamole, salsa, and the rest of the taco fixings. We even had a decent sour cream substitute - thick, plain yogurt that we can buy at one of the local shops, the same shop where we found real yellow cheddar last week! [We were so excited about that one!] The food was delish, if I can say so myself, and the fellowship was even better.

Good fun!

A Little Mud on the Tires

What do you do when it's been raining all weekend, you're a little bored, and you live in a country where dirt roads are plentiful? Well, you get into your big, rough, tough Land Cruiser and you drive through huge puddles of mud with your buddies seeing who can make the biggest splash.

Paul won.


Then, he got to give the car a bath so we could drive a cleaner vehicle to church this morning.


Boys will be boys.

Really? He's Old Enough?

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Josiah Paul Hefft was 9 pounds, 9 ounces, dwarfing all of the other babies in the nursery at BroMenn Hospital in Normal, Illinois. My claim to fame during his birth: I laughed all the way through it.

No, I'm not superwoman. [Superwomen are those amazing ladies who do the whole thing without drugs.] The anesthesiologist couldn't get my epidural to fully kick in, so he "did it up right" and I couldn't feel a single thing. I couldn't even wiggle my toes. Bless that man.

Josiah wouldn't really eat for the first 24 hours, which worried me a little [ok, a lot], but on the plus side, he slept all the time. I should have taken those God-given opportunities to catch up on sleep, considering I hadn't really slept much the week before he was born. But, good grief, I finally had my own BABY! I had to hold him and admire those cute little fingers and toes. I had to trace the beautiful curve to his chubby chin. Those were good days. [Well, except for the lack of sleep part and the crying part and the messy diapers part.]

I remember it like it was yesterday, which is why it blows my mind that my just-yesterday little one is now 5 years old and going to school.

His first day was Monday. He's normally an early riser, but we heard him up and at 'em especially early yesterday morning. He was overjoyed to pack his new backpack that Grandma Helmers had given him [even though in the Reception class all they bring is a snack] and get on the carpool bus to head to school.

I was nervous that he might be a little apprehensive, being that it was his first day and that he was starting class mid-year. But when the teacher rang the bell for class to begin, he buzzed passed me like I wasn't even there. Nope, he was definitely not nervous. I'm sure it helped that two other kids from our housing compound and another little girl we got to know at language school are in his class too.

I'm grateful that, at least for now, he's loving the idea of school. He has many, many years of school ahead of him.

But it still seems like just yesterday.

A Weekend in Dar

Our week without a husband/daddy was a long one. [Single moms - I have a whole new respect for you!] But I'm happy to report that we made it.

Sure, the kids watched more movies than usual [How else is a mommy on her own supposed to get a shower?], I never seemed to get a cup of hot coffee in the mornings [it was always cold by the time I had the time to drink it], and - even though I'm ashamed to admit it - one night after the kids were FINALLY in bed, I sat down and cried out of sheer exhaustion [just so you know, it was highly cathartic]. All that said, we made it just fine.

Paul was gone to Dar es Salaam all last week with the translation team to check portions of Acts and Revelation with a translation consultant. He had a good week learning the ropes of his new role on the team and figuring out how he can best use his skills to assist the project. They worked hard.


So, after a long week of working hard in different ways, we decided it would be fun to reward ourselves with a short weekend holiday in Dar back together again as a family. The mosquitoes are horrible there and it's hot and humid this time of year, so it's much more comfortable here at home, but in Dar, you can shop for things you can't get in the smaller towns and you can go to the beach. We jumped at the chance.

Thankfully, the kids and I were able to get an affordable rate flying with Missionary Aviation Fellowhip from Dodoma to Dar es Salaam, so our trip was only 2 hours as opposed to 6 or 7 by bus. We got to fly in a six-seater Cessna 206, a model affectionately referred to by my missionary pilot father-in-law as "the Sky Pig."

I don't love flying, but my kids do - thanks to my dear father-in-law and his aviation-loving son, my husband - so they did great on the flight. And "it was only a little bumpy," as Anna took to telling people when asked about her experience. I must admit, it was cool to see Dodoma and other parts of Tanzania from the air.


We had a nice weekend together as a family. I found a few more things for our house and we had a blast swimming at White Sands, a lovely ocean resort on Mbezi Beach with beach front access, clean pools [that can be a problem here in Tanzania], good food, and affordable day rates.



We had so much fun, we were all exhausted - in the good, sleep-inducing way.

It's good to be together as a family again.

The Paul Hefft Salon

After moving to Dodoma one of my burning questions was this: "Where do I get my hair cut?" I expected the answers I received (knowing a little from friends and family about the typical missionary experience), but secretly I was hoping for a much different reality. If you are a mzungu (white person) here in Dodoma, your best option for hair cutting is to either do it yourself (and, really, how does one cut the back of their own head in any sort of straight line?) or have a trusted friend do it for you.

Last night, I reached the end of my rope. After five months without a haircut, washing my hair in dirty river water for four of those months, and general dissatisfaction with the style of my hair, I asked Paul if he would be willing to try and cut it. Being the "go-getter" type, he agreed.

The before picture:

First, we did a little research on the internet - a simple, medium-length bob didn't seem so difficult. Then, I wet my hair down, we grabbed our hair cutting scissors and clips, and he gave it a go.After half an hour or so, the work was done. My hair was shorter and healthier. And, personally, I think he did a really good job. He even gave me some basic layers.

I guess we have one more talent to add to his long list of abilities. (Although, he's made me promise that I won't offer his services to any of our friends.)

The First Real Meal

One of the things I missed the most in the last 6 months of transition was having my own kitchen. Sure, it was great to have every meal catered and to not have any dishes to clean up, but Paul and I both love to cook. So by the end of language school, we were both in a serious state of cooking withdrawal. How does one medicate a serious state of cooking withdrawal? Well, get in that new kitchen and cook everything you've been missing for many, many weeks and months, of course.

In our first week in our new house, we've made spaghetti sauce (starting from fresh tomatoes), chocolate cake, buttermilk biscuits, cinnamon rolls, pancakes, beans and rice, and pigs in a blanket. Everything has tasted so good, but I must say that our first real dinner created in our new kitchen was the best!

Mexican food, a family favorite, is hard to come by in Tanzania, so our first home-cooked dinner in our new house had to be Mexican. We had great fun creating a chicken fajita feast.

Anna and I made flour tortillas from scratch. Paul then used a few of them to fry up some homemade tortilla chips.My master chef hard at work:

We also made guacamole and fresh salsa. Washed down with a bottle of cold coke, we were all quite satisfied at the end of our meal. Yum!Cooking is good medicine!