Computer Faith

It is remarkable that I can sit here in Africa looking at images on my computer monitor and with just a few key strokes, a package of goods will arrive days later on a doorstep in America. No catalogs, no telephone calls, no letters. Nothing but mysterious electrical impulses cause it all to happen. What was unimaginable to the common man less than half generation ago has not just come to pass – it’s become passé. But how can something that so profoundly affects our lives be so technically complex as to be incomprehensible to ordinary people?

Take Skype for example. How can 20,000,000 people talk at the same time without their conversations getting just a little mixed together somewhere between here and there? And how do my voice and picture get around the world instantly, anyway? I don’t know, but I have seen the proof it works. Computers and the internet are amazing. Sure, sometimes things break down and I get frustrated. And at times, because I can’t fix the problems, I even get a little angry. Yet somewhere and somehow there seems to be a fix. With a bit of well-informed help the problem can be resolved and the computer can be working properly again. Once again, I am soon amazed at what the internet can do and how it affects my life. We have much faith concerning our computers. I cannot explain how my computer communicates from Africa to Amazon and then to booksRus; or how booksRus finds PayPal; or how PayPal gets approval from my credit card company; or how Amazon tells UPS to go to booksRus to get my book to deliver it to Main Street USA. And that just touches the surface of the astonishing series of electrical impulses and human responses that gets the book to my American doorstep. It all depends on countless unseen computers working silently (or so it seems to us) in unknowable places. I can’t explain it, but I do have much faith that it will happen, that my credit won’t be stolen, my life won’t be ruined, and that one day I will actually get to enjoy the book I have been promised to receive.

I was thinking maybe God is a bit like that. His ways are so complex that we cannot comprehend them – he is God after all – yet he profoundly affects our lives. God is hard to explain, yet evidence that he is at work is all around. It is hard to know how or through whom God is working. And it is especially hard sometimes to know why God does or allows things to happen. One can get frustrated and angry at those times, too. Yet I have faith that what God has promised will happen. Faith that God will stand with me and help me, whatever my problems may be, and my life won’t be ruined. And although I cannot fully explain or even comprehend how it can be possible, one day (and forever more) I will actually get to enjoy the home in heaven that I have been promised to receive.

Yes, I think God at work is a little bit like computers and the internet. Only better, much better.

Computer Tech Woes

Well, my future as a computer technician seems headed in the same direction as my efforts to grow zucchini. It was not difficult to find troublesome viruses on the old computers in the church’s computer training center. Making educated guesses, I found two viruses on my own before even starting anti-virus software. So after downloading from the internet a couple free virus removal tools, I looked forward to getting all the viruses off the machines.

It all started out so well on Day One. Proceeding on two machines at the same time, the antivirus software almost instantly announced it had found viruses. But after that things started downhill. The virus removal tools worked at a snail’s pace. After a full day of labor, one machine was not yet half scanned. The other virus removal program running on the second computer didn’t even tell me how much longer I’d have to wait. In fact, I wasn’t even sure it was still working. I suppose it all had something to do with the fact the minimum requirements for the virus removal programs were at least 192 MB, 512 MB recommended, and I had only 64 MB to work with.

Day Two started out as slowly as Day One ended. Neither removal program had finished its work the day before. When I started them again on Day Two, would they begin again from scratch? Or would they pick up from where they had left off at the end of Day One? Oh, I was so happy to see them pick up where they had stopped the day before. Both of them. So I watched as the programs proceeded, every bit as slow as before, to complete their scans. Every once in a while I needed to answer a question posed in a dialogue box. But, like all Windows-inspired dialogue boxes I have ever encountered, they give no intelligible clues as to what will happen if you say “yes” or “no.” Like always, I guessed. Eventually, both computers finished the scans and came to a point where reboot was required to complete the virus removal. My how that sounded encouraging as Day Two came to a close.

On Day Three I on the two computers and watched them reboot. For hours I watched. All day I watched. On one of the machines, nothing happened all day. The other machine gave me an error message – something about certain operating system files being missing or corrupted. Neither machine rebooted. At the end of Day 3 I went home, very discouraged, to think about what to do.

Disaster is the word for Day Four, as well as Days Five, Six …. Focusing on the one machine with missing or corrupted OS files, I decided to try to reinstall the XP operating system from an old disk lying in a desk drawer. What did I have to lose, after all? It was clear the computer wasn’t going to run the way it was. So I naively started the reinstallation. I could give you all the details, but you would only laugh. At me. For being so foolish. After a couple days of effort, I finally got the installation to the stage of asking me for the Microsoft security key. Groan! Such a thing, which clearly once existed, is nowhere to be found now. I should have known. I should have known how this could all come to a halt for the absence of 25 precious digits and letters. Less than an alphabet’s worth.

So today neither of the computers I “fixed” is now working. The poor woman in charge of the computer center was so happy at first that I was helping with the computers. But now, she looks so confused. Understandably, she is reluctant to let me touch any of the other computers. She was so trusting.

But I have a plan. I have my friends looking for donations of old Microsoft operating systems. Maybe XP, or maybe even better, 98 SE. Complete with those 25 digit security keys, for sure. If they can mail a couple copies to me, I’ll get those computers running eventually. I have 5 more months to get it done. That will be enough, won’t it?

Now, if I just had a plan to replace the Microsoft Word and Excel programs that were on those old machines.

Zucchini-less

It’s a good thing I didn’t come to Africa as an agricultural consultant. My zucchinis have all gone to rot. My hopes were so high after that first promising zucchini-let. The plants grew big and green with lots of yellow blossoms. They looked beautiful, but they never developed another further fruit.

Indeed, I have to admit the whole garden has failed. The green peppers and spinach I planted never produced a plant. Even the watermelon that grew “wild” from the compost developed only one melon, and, infested with insects, it rotted from the inside. Should I blame it all on the bugs? Or maybe it was the el Niño weather we are having. The normally dry month of December was anything but dry this year. Probably bugs and the weather both contributed to the loss. But what do I know about weather and the crops?

The only thing I know for sure is how much hard work it is to grow vegetables using only hand tools. Now, each time I pass by the large fields with men, women, and children all using nothing more than a hoe to cultivate, I must nod with respect acknowledging the hard work that they do. And then when I pass by the piles of those same vegetables in the market, I marvel at how little we pay for all that hard work. How did it ever come to pass that they should be paid so little for the back breaking work that they do?

With my garden nothing more than history, I have something else to look forward to. My latest assignment at work is to try to make the AICT computer lab’s ancient computers work faster and better. I can’t do much about the slow processors and RAM limitations – forget about the recommended 4 gigs, we are talking 64 MB here! But I think I can wipe off some of the viruses I have already identified. Tomorrow could be interesting. But then, every day is interesting here.

Zucchini Setback

Saturday morning. I wasn’t feeling so well this morning, so instead of weeding my garden as I should have, I just sat quietly on the stoop and watched the birds. Black kites preened in the trees while others flew overhead in all directions. Marabou storks formed large kettles, soaring ever higher into the warming thermals. Gray-headed sparrows perched in the mango, avocado, and poinsettia trees and chirped incessantly. One lone village indigo bird sang and sang from a high snag. A long winged and long tailed falcon soared by leisurely, but didn’t linger long enough for me. It might have been a Eurasian hobby or an Eleanora’s falcon, but there are so many falcon possibilities that I could not sort it out before it disappeared. The African palm swifts have such long and narrow wings that I wonder how they get enough lift to fly, but surely they were designed more for their spectacular aerobatics than for sustained flight. Eastern gray plantain-eaters laughed like maniacal monkeys as they gathered food and nesting materials. Yellow-vented bulbuls shouted their loud song from every direction and a young bird snuggled up to its parent, hoping for special attention or a little food. Three willow warblers, recently arrived for the winter after their breeding season in Europe, gleaned bugs from the overgrown hedge. Creation is full of wondrous things.

Eventually I wandered into the garden to see whether the weeds or the zucchinis are winning. The weeds are indeed gaining ground, but for now the zucchinis still prevail. There are many blossoms where I expect soon to see more zucchini-lets, but a few days ago I sadly discovered that my first small zucchini had rotted on the vine. It had not grown much at all since I first proudly described it. Maybe we had too much rain – there has been a lot. Or it could be the bugs. Inch-long grasshoppers, boldly striped in black and yellow-green, are particularly fond of the zucchini leaves, and scores of tiny flies too small to describe swarm out of the plants when I pull back the leaves to look inside. I may lose the entire crop to bugs if I don’t use insecticide, and since I have none, that is a distinct possibility. I discovered another plant in the garden that may be my only green pepper seed to have sprouted. I’ll have to watch this one to see what develops. The tiny watermelon seedling that sprouted from my compost a couple weeks back has become a blossom-laden six foot long vine and is still growing. Even as my zucchini prospects become dim, I am brightened by the thought of a few sweet watermelons some day.

Zucchini-lets!

17 November 2009. I have been avoiding the garden for a week or so, but I can easily see from the kitchen door that the weeds are starting a reclamation project. So today I went out in the cooler part of the afternoon when the sun is low and the shadows long. I like to loosen the dirt with a shovel and pull the weeds by hand, especially near my zucchini plants. When my weeding took me close to the single mound of my September 23 test planting, I peered inside. There, bright and healthy looking, was a dark green 3 inch zucchini-let. Whoo-hoo! In a week, maybe less, I’ll be stir-frying that very zucchini.

It has been 8 weeks since I planted that mound of seeds. My second planting was on 14 October, so at that rate we ought to have a second crop in mid-December. Maybe we’ll have zucchini bread for Christmas this year. Maybe I’ll try a third planting – but now there is a risk there won’t be enough rain; the short December-January dry season is coming.

My green pepper and New Zealand spinach seeds all seem to have failed. But as if to make up for the loss, a tikitimaji (watermelon) has sprouted from my earliest compost site. It is growing very well and I can’t wait to see if it produces some melons. And today I discovered another plant in the garden. It looks just like green beans my mother used to grow. I’ll be watching it, but will it produce enough beans for even one stir-fry?

Wild Ride

14 November 2009. I am so glad we always took our kids on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride when we visited the Disney parks. Nothing else could have prepared us so well for yesterday’s adventure.

In typical theme park fashion, our trip began at the counter where the people formed into a dense cue (mob, really) to buy tickets for the short ferry ride from Mwanza to Kamanga. Once there we each took a seat in the AICT (Africa Inland Church Tanzania) Toyota Land Cruiser to begin our ride. With 8 people on board (4 CRWRC volunteers and 4 church staff members) and all the stuff needed for a day or two on the road, it was comfortable, but full, when our ride began. Along the rough gravel road we sped, lurching and bouncing along, dodging bikes, cows, and potholes along the way. Every once in a while there would come from the 3 poor souls in the back, sitting sideways on barely padded benches, “ouch” and “oooh!” as the car bounded over particularly painful or exciting bumps. After about 25 kilometers of this seat-gripping ride, we stopped unexpectedly in the village of Sengerema. Sitting together in the far back, Peggy and I looked quizzically at each other – grateful for the breather, but wondering why we stopped.

Soon enough it came clear. Two more staff members, carrying their own box, briefcase, and a small suitcase, piled in. Now we were more than full with 10 people on board. There were 4 wide people jammed into the 3 not-so-wide seats in the second row, shoulders forced into alternating layers. Four more people were wedged into the back among piles of stuff. Once uncomfortably situated, off we went again. In no time at all we encountered road construction and the adventure got even more exciting. For the next 75 kilometers we watched the ever-so-enticing smooth road-under-construction pass by in our peripheral vision while our car bounced, lurched, and veered down the temporary so-called road beside it. Potholes, bumps, trees, cattle, bicycles, goats, pedestrians, trucks – every imaginable obstruction came zooming into view, only to be avoided at the last second by our imaginative driver. Could he really be in control or were we riding on tracks like Mr. Toad’s, carefully designed to avoid all the obstacles?

Finally we reached smooth roads where the car picked up more speed, and soon we were in the larger town of Geita. Thinking we were near the end of the ride, we were a bit surprised when the car took a sudden and unexpected turn off the road and came to a stop a short distance later. Time for “chai” – breakfast in Swahili. Refreshed by tea, chapattis and relief for our bruised bladders, we were off again. After another 20 or 30 kilometers we reached the first of two medical clinics scheduled for a visit that day. The time was spent quietly for us volunteers. I was grateful for the rest, but I couldn’t help but think, with just a little dread, “I think we have to go back the same way we just came!”

After the business was completed, all 10 of us, plus gear, piled back into the car and headed for the second medical clinic, about a 90 minute drive away. By now I had moved from the bench in the back to the second row because Allan developed a sore back from the second row seat. Go figure. But if he wanted the straight-backed, side-facing, barely padded, no-leg-room, high-bounce-zone back seat, I was willing to take the normal padded seat with plenty of leg room, even if it meant a shoe-horn fit and resting the back of my shoulder on the front of my neighbor’s shoulder. From this relatively comfortable position I could not turn around to look at those behind me, so it came as a complete surprise to me to learn the next day that there weren’t 10 of us, but then 11 people in the car. Just before the car pulled away, the doctor from the clinic climbed into the back with yet another box. He wedged himself in among Peggy and the other 3 people in back and stuffed the extra box into space that didn’t really exist. The doctor only rode with us to the main highway, about 10 kilometers, and then he jumped out and went on his way, leaving us with 10 again. While I never noticed he was in the back of the car, I’m sure his presence was closely felt by the other 4 back there.

The next 60 kilometers was a tame ride by comparison to the morning’s. The gravel roads were a little wider and a little smoother, and the cattle, bicycles and pedestrians seemed nimble-footed. Some of us even grabbed a little sleep between all the lurching and the bouncing on the way to the second clinic.

When the business was completed there, it was already late afternoon and the staff was eager to get started for home. But our host insisted on serving us all a meal. Our leaders being too gracious to say no, accepted the invitation and we all sat down for a very delicious meal. We ate quickly, but still had a minute to take a photo of our host family standing in front of their wall poster of Barack Obama and Martin Luther King, Jr., entitled “The Dream Has Come True.” When the meal was finished, the 10 of us piled into the car again. But wait -- now there were two more occupants to fit in. One of the staff members bought 2 live chickens, and each one “found” a place under the two side seats in the back. After cleaning up a little of what chickens leave behind when they get stressed, we got on our way, bouncing and lurching along the “good” gravel road back to Geita. At Geita we made the turn east and headed back toward home. I was anticipating (unhappily) the road under construction that lay ahead, when suddenly we made another abrupt turn into a crowded bus station. Our driver pushed ahead, honking the horn as standers-by briskly side-stepped to get out of the way. After driving in a circle around the parking lot and pulling to a stop in the middle, 8 men appeared out of nowhere shoving handfuls of pineapples into every open window of the car. Altogether our group bought a dozen of the largest pineapples – 3 for about $1.50. Where there were already chickens, boxes, bags, suitcases and no leg room we added the 12 pineapples and were ready to continue our adventure.

Still with a long distance to go and the last ferry to catch, our driver tried to make up time on the short stretch of smooth paved road leading away from Geita. At that speed it wasn’t long at all before we reached the big construction zone. He slowed down to ease the car onto the exceedingly rough temporary road, and then brought it back up to off-road speed again. “At least,” I thought to myself, “this is the worst stretch of road and it won’t get any worse than this.”

And then it got dark. Trucks, cattle, pedestrians, bicycles carrying long poles of sugar cane sideways – they all zipped by, briefly flashing in the lights of our Land Cruiser. Bumps, puddles, potholes, dips, brush – all were still in the road, but they only required a noticeable reduction in speed only if the driver could not swerve around them. And now, with the construction crews gone for the night, there was a wide-open, brand new, not-quite-finished roadway seemingly inviting us up for a lovely and fast drive. So up on the smooth surface we went, no longer swerving around potholes and bumps, but now dodging construction barricades, rocks, piles of dirt, and other obstacles purposely put in the way to keep unauthorized cars from driving on the unfinished road! When we encountered a night crew at work and the unfinished road became impassable, the car returned to the bumps and lurches of the temporary side road.

At last the lights of the village of Sengerema came into view and I felt a surge of relief. Not only was the road better after Sengerema (or so I thought), but this is where we picked up 2 passengers in the morning, and I naturally thought they would get off in Sengerema. I’m sure all of the folks in the back seat were disappointed when only one got out – it meant the lucky 3 in the middle seat (still including me!) finally got some hip and shoulder room, but there was no relief for the 4 in the far back.

Without even a break for our even-more-bruised bladders, the car turned back onto the road toward Mwanza. At the traffic circle in Sengerema we turned onto a different road out of town than the one we drove in on because the late ferry goes from a different village than the ferry we rode in the morning. My spirits quickly brightened when I realized this road, unlike the one we drove on in the morning, was paved, smooth, and fast. But just as quickly my bright spirits faded. Within a few short kilometers we ran into construction again. So with another 20 or 25 kilometers to go, it was back on to a temporary side road every bit as bad as before. It was somewhere along this stretch that one of the chickens broke loose, pecked Peggy’s feet, and fluttered its wings between the knees of one of the other lady passengers. Whoa! On and on it went like this in the dark.

When finally the dim lights of the ferry terminal came into view, I heard from the far back prayers of thanksgiving to God in at least two languages – English and Swahili. There was such a murmur of relief that it may also have included prayers in Dutch and Sukuma, but I’m not sure. My personal prayer at that moment was to thank the Lord that Allan, so many hours ago, wanted to trade his middle row seat for the bench, boxes, suitcases, pineapples and chickens in the back. I was maybe a little hot and sweaty from the crowded seating, but 10 hours later at least my butt wasn’t sore and my legs weren’t cramped.

The 9 remaining people were more than eager to get out of the car and stand quietly waiting for the ferry to arrive. Not even a little rain and a cloud of lake flies gathering under the lights could drive any one of us back into that car sooner than necessary. While waiting we came within a scale’s width of having a few fresh fish added to the carry-on baggage. One of our group looked long and hard at the pile of small fish laid out by boy fishermen in the car’s headlights. Fortunately for those in back, no fish were bought. Much to my surprise, though, when we got back in the car after crossing the lake on the ferry, another, unfamiliar woman climbed into the middle seat beside me! I wondered the whole way home who she was and why she hitched a ride with us. The 25 or 30 kilometers back home to Mwanza were spent, once again crowded together, either bouncing and lurching through another construction zone or driving at high speeds on the paved road into Mwanza. The finale of the trip was a brisk ride through the side streets of the city as we dropped off one of the members of our group at his home. We made unexpected turns to the right and to the left, feeling lost as we ventured into areas we’d never seen before, only to be surprised when we finally emerged from one side street onto our own road, not 3 blocks from home.

Like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, this one was exciting and full of surprises to the very end.

Zucchini Garden

You would not have predicted it when I (Gordon) was a child, but now zucchini is one of my favorite vegetables. I love to cook it in a stir-fry. But zucchini is quite hard to find in Mwanza. Sometimes one vendor has it in the distant big market (never in the near market) and once in a while it can be found in the vegetable stand near the U-Turn Grocery. So even before we left Tanzania last May I was planning my future vegetable garden. I figured that the way things grow here in the rainy season, a few green vegetables ought to grow, too. While we were in the states I bought some seeds -- zucchini, green pepper, and spinach. Shortly after we arrived, some rain began to fall. It seemed a little early for the start of the short rains, so I thought I would plant just a few seeds in a little test plot. Now the zucchinis in my test plot are growing seriously fast, but if the other plants germinated, I still can’t tell their sprouts from the blanket of weeds that is also sprouting everywhere.

I know I will enjoy the zucchinis and other vegetables come harvest time, but today they are nearly killing me. Encouraged by the success of my test zucchinis and with rains now coming often, today I started preparing the ground to plant the rest of my seeds. Before I began I had visions of long rows of green peppers and spinach. Zucchinis would be spreading in all directions. So much would grow that I could open my own little vegetable stand at the market. But the reality of digging out the carpet of grass and weeds with my short-handled hoe hit suddenly and painfully hard. Just one hour of hoeing, even with my alternating of five minutes of hoeing with five minutes of rest, had me walking around the rest of the day with my back slightly stooped and held at just the critical angle (listing five degrees to the right) to keep it from going into spasms!

Thank goodness the daily downpour came early today, giving me a perfect excuse to cut short my garden work and run for cover. But the job is not done. My cleared spot is only about 10 feet long, and I still haven’t pulled all the weeds out of even that small area. I have more hoeing and raking to do, and some shoveling, too, before I am ready to plant. Maybe tomorrow. Or perhaps in a few days. I might even have to think many thoughts of stir-fry to convince my back that it really will be worth it to go back out in the garden.

My visions of having my own vegetable stand are gone forever. The long rows of vegetables I envisioned have shrunk to a rather small plot. Today I gained some new-found respect for the men, women, and children that toil day after day in the fields around Mwanza with nothing but a hoe. It is a back breaking work that they do, growing food and crops. And for all their work they get very little income. Despite working very hard, they are still desperately poor. The farmers deserve more than they get. In the future I’m going to be more serious about looking for the Fair Trade label when I buy goods made or grown in developing countries.