Dear Cherished Interested’s,


--- WE HAD IT IN TIME FOR EASTER ---

Asante Sana Mungu = Thanks very much, God.

Thanks very much all of you who talk with God about such as us.

Hilda braved the walk to the big road. Then she braved the cheek to jowl ride in the Dahla-dahla into Arusha. Then braved the street Taxi from the big road in to the Pharmacy, yes, we’re old and need our stupid pills. We also enjoy immensely conversations of merit with our pharmacist in which trust enables covering territory denied caring concerned discussion back home. There is still that freedom here to earnestly discuss hard things that others are confronting and how to live a loving response into where they find themselves.

Then Hilda braved the bajaji, three wheel motorcycle scooter, ride across town and down to where the truck was having its last leaky fuel injector line fiddled into dry functionality. I always end up paying more than our Tanzanian keepers would like us to pay for taxi’s and bajaji’s but.. it was Easter.. and it was Hilda’s first time in a bajaji.. and the driver, who collected us in front of the mosque, happily wished us “ Pasaka njema” = Happy Easter.

The Dahla-dahla was less than 40 cents each and took us the furthest distance by far –

The taxi was just a little over 2 dollars total for the shortest distance covered –

The bajaji cost the same as the taxi but took us much further. Hilda and I sat side by side on the bench seat behind the driver for this her first journey in such conveyance. I leaned forward to jabber occasionally, back and forth, with the driver in my extremely poor pidgin Swahili and his much less pidgin, if still halting, English. He got us to the shop and our little truck.

We went back into town to the fuel depot with the very best reputation for selling unadulterated and clean fuel, then left managing no hungry traffic cop entanglements along the way. Hilda’s little truck got back here with us both late last Saturday afternoon. It was raining and as we pulled through the gate we saw Heriheti all bundled heading for the gate to leave and go home. We collected both our house key and Heriheti, turned around, and took her home to Nkoaranga up on the mountain.. it was raining and .. Easter.., you know.. We then checked on our Sunday morning, Easter morning, helpers. It was brief and we still had daylight but the roads were filling rapidly with people on a Saturday night.

We had three helpers Easter morning. They were dressed, ready, packed, and had consumed first breakfast before we arrived. There were no boarders at Silverleaf Academy as all had gone home for the holiday, we checked Sunday morning just in case anyway. We fed a hearty breakfast of juice and fortified local free range eggs, eggs with deep dark rich yolks, to our young helpers then headed back up the mountain to The Children’s Village for Sunday School and text study there. Then we fed our helpers a very hearty late lunch and dropped them with friends for an overnight a few villages away.

Yes, Easter was good where we are. We remember and pray for all-you-all too. Peace for the troubles. Grace for the mistakes. Gratitude for each and every one of you; and Christ’s love reign like rain.

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Hilda and I are both re-learning to go to the right side of the truck by repeatedly going to the wrong side.

Hilda’s little truck built for right hand driving after a long life of left hand driving. It must be humorous to watch. It is for me when Hilda leads the way to the truck and goes unerringly to the door her driver needs. We just roll our eyes at each other and continue our abbreviated Chinese fire drill(ask an old one).

The earthly powers who happily use what Hilda brings have insisted that she take a day off each week. They have insisted and insisted.. She relented this week taking Thursday off, except for Bible Study praise time on the green in front of the school. We quickly reviewed the days of creation with songs they have learned to celebrate each one. They are happily loud enough singers to be heard all across the campus. We then read after the 7th day in Genesis Chapter 2 through verse 15 which speaks of our intended purpose to till and guard The Garden of Eden. We then sang Head, Shoulders, knees, and toes and reminded ourselves that we are made with those things to use in the garden of our world. That when we go to school and fill our gifts called our minds we are doing Gods work of learning how to be the stewards God made us to be.

Today, Friday, I was up the mountain at the volunteer house(reduced cost housing for folks coming to volunteer and serve the NGO’s connected with it). I got there about 9:am and had about 90 minutes tutorial with the brilliant young woman who spoils the volunteers by cleaning, cooking, and taking care of them. Tutorial was at the request of the bosses and affirmed by the young woman. Tutorial was in English. She wants to gain more comfortable fluency for those she cares for.

Friends.. Hilda is the teacher. I have to teach with what I have. We started with my bi-lingual, Swahili/English, Good News Bible. We took turns reading from her favorite Bible Story in Exodus Chapter 2, the story of Moses. She read in English, I helped with pronunciation and answered questions about specific words. Pronouns are problematic but handy short-cuts to tell a story relating events and things to specific people. Here he/she/her/him are all interchanged. What am I to do? We worked on pronouns and the associated conventions of their use as intended for the translation in front of us. To use the current North American pronoun usage/changing conventions would be cruel and disrespectful of the translators’ intents.

I spent lots of time apologizing for English having extra letters that are often silent, that Standard English vowels are not continental European nor African vowels, that the very same pronoun can refer to two or more different people and that must be gleaned from context. She laughed every time I apologized. Then I read the Swahili aloud, with her patient help and she didn’t laugh at me once.

The Common English Bible, a translation from 2011 that I brought with me, was what we tried next. She is so fluent already I wanted to try that and she did really very well. I left that English only Bible with her and her homework is to read that Bible as much as she can taking notes of all her questions along the way. Any questions that can’t wait she can put to her volunteers, one American, one Canadian, one Argentinian/Brit/UK. Next class is next week Friday.

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Women here often face difficulty that hopefully even our grandmothers did not face. That said, too many women, even at home in the U.S., face harsh consequences to choices they have taken or choices that have been forced upon them. The following desperately needs you all.

Prayer needed in support of a brave mother of three. She had the very real courage of going to the police this week to file paperwork against her husband. Her abusive and often drunk husband who struck her head violently and repeatedly, last Friday night, with a blunt object while she was sleeping.

So strong and indomitable, she managed to regain consciousness, gather her children, and get to her mother-in-law. She has not had significant sleep since the attack. She prefers to be at work even with severe head pain and signs of not only a concussion but a contra-coup. Yes this is extremely confidential as her in-law family does not approve of her choice to finally start to document a pattern she herself has tried to keep quiet, so no name will be given. God knows who you are praying for. Thank You so much.

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Ugly and dark is there, we can’t get away from it if we dare to care. God never lets it end there though.

Easter is about family, our family, and what God has done for our family’s emancipation, voracious growth, and loving inclusion. Adoption is a beautiful and amazingly key piece of that.

Evidence not of abuse, but of adoption is what I shared recently with my eldest brother. The Mama’s at the Children’s Village had a wonderful tear filled laugh about three weeks ago. They decided that Hilda and I needed naming. Hilda is named Ngakisali (wife of Kisali). I have been named Kisali.

These names are proof of adoption in that they are Meru tribal names. I had to tell my big-bio-brother because my Meru name translates as big brother. They all think it is wonderfully funny that I should have that name. So, Sundays now, I am called Babu (grandfather) and Mchungaji Kisali (Pastor BIG brother).

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What to Pray for:

Our armed forces families, our leadership, our people, whole world round, all of Gods kids -

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. we miss them too..

I continue to be under much harsh spiritual attack concerning my sense of self-worth and those many things I have yet to get to, please, only as you are comfortable, remember me, indeed us.. the world doesn’t like what we are doing out of love we don’t own.. yet have none the less -

For Makumira Secondary School looking to share stories and partner in some way with a foreign school, Great leaders, teachers, students, programs, strong backs, minds, and hearts –

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us –

For a way for us to invest with our experience and even financially in support of local industrious people so we can afford to stay and continue to make a difference one face at a time –

For those who have braved the donate button to discover Kajun Crofton, our daughter who helps getting each one of your donations to us and every blogpost to where you can read it -

For each and every one of you –

Each and every one of your prayers, your precious conversations with God –

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even groaning prayers make all the difference..

Vern W

May Life be as Music to your Heart - May Music be as Heart to your Life 

- May Heart be as Life to your Music -

For Easter 2022..

We live among dragons here.. -moja-

Grandmother Hilda’s little lions fly up curtains to perch and bounce across curtain rods. They jump into corners pushing off the adjoining walls convinced they can fly up to be with those dragons sitting at the tops of the walls. Those dragons who sit upside down on the ceiling too.

Dragons live in Grandmother Hilda’s house, on Grandmother Hilda’s walls, on Grandmother Hilda’s ceilings. Dragons live in the vents that let hot air out through the top of each outside wall.

Dragons live outside Grandmother Hilda’s house too. That is often where the little lions will catch one.

When a scuttling little dragon mistakenly makes its way down near to the ground, then a little lion will win. Pouncing, snatching a wriggling morsel of dragon up, to then stride proudly growling away so all know. So all know that particular little lion is Saint George vanquishing its foe. Unlike Saint George, however, the striding little lion is the one to take refuge in the nearest cave-like place. Also unlike Saint George, in the safety of that cave-like place is where that proud little lion consumes its vanquished.

Grandmother Hilda’s two little lions each have a name. You knowing those names would normally be unimportant as lions natures tend to be most similar when observed from a distance. However these are Grandmother Hilda’s little lions who run between walking legs, or race ahead silently to guard or instead follow Grandmother Hilda yowling as she leaves to go do other non-little-lion-centric things.

Because they are so rapt with themselves, and hence are rapt with Grandmother Hilda and her possession of food and watering bowl filling magic, Grandmother Hilda’s little lions are around enough for one to perceive each little lions’ peculiar individual characteristics.

The smaller one possessed of more literal color is Maureen.

More independent than her larger brother from the same litter, she is also significantly more intelligent and has the simple magic of being able to become invisible. She can choose to become invisible to whomever she wants to be invisible to. Less and less frequently does she choose to be invisible to Grandmother Hilda. Grandmother Hilda has consistently searched for, found, brought home and comforted little lion Maureen after a particularly trying, difficult or failed quest after a conquest.

The one entity consistently in little lion Maureen’s life, whom she chooses most often to be invisible to, is her big brother of the same litter. He can wander about Grandmother Hilda’s house yowling, completely clueless to Maureen’s quiet invisible presence just outside the curtain. Maureen resides there outside the curtain roosting upon a throne-ledge of mortar just outside the window bars designed to keep the monkeys out.

With Maureen’s ears at half-mast she will look Grandmother and any other person imploringly in the eye back and forth as if to say..” My big brother of the same litter is so stupid, he can’t see me.. I don’t want him to see me.. please don’t pick him up and show him where I am..”

So, we don’t.. unless the yowling gets intolerable. By then the yowling has likely become intolerable to Maureen as well so with disgust she relents of her solo retreat. This she does by letting herself become visible again.

Maureen often becomes visible again after jumping through the window bars designed to keep the monkeys out, and back inside, and silently down to the floor to sneak up on her big brother of the same litter. Other times she stays hidden behind the curtain out on the ledge until we have poked the yowling big brother of the same litter out through those window bars designed to keep the monkeys out. We set yowling brother out onto that very throne-ledge of mortar with Maureen. Maureen’s throne-ledge upon which many languid hours on many languid days have been shared by the two of them. Somehow the brother is never able to find her there when she doesn’t want to be found.

Her magic of invisibility is powerful.

It would be easier to just let you know the name of little lion Maureen’s big brother of the same litter.

Little lion Maureen’s big brother of the same litter is named Ronald. Ronald is two toned to Maureen’s three. This is of no matter to their character but is gift to Grandmother Hilda when they are far off and Grandmother Hilda wants to know which little lion she is looking at.

Grandmother Hilda walks most mornings from Grandmother Hilda’s house to another house that has become an office. That office is busy with many people doing many things. Grandmother Hilda toils there at writing lesson plans and experiments for other teachers to teach to children. Grandmother Hilda does many other things too. However, Grandmother Hilda is the only one in that office who can write lesson plans and experiments and then teach those to other teachers so they can teach children.

Writing about Grandmother Hilda’s daily walks and what she does on the far side of those walks might not seem important, and it might not be. It might be a tangent, something connected but not part of any central common purpose. It might be a distraction to avoid talking about more magic.

One can often get compelled by Grandmother Hilda’s many magical ways though. That is part of Grandmother Hilda’s magic. Magic she doesn’t openly acknowledge she has. Grandmother Hilda is many things. One of those many things is a scientist and as a scientist she does not see magic. There are times Grandmother Hilda doesn’t seem to be able to see much at all. Wait a moment though, take Grandmother Hilda away from her lesson plans and experiments, and let her be something more. She can see magic then. People can be funny that way. People can be wonderful that way.

Anyway, the little lions named Maureen and Ronald can be identified from afar by Maureen’s three colors to Ronald’s two. This lack of a third color does not make Ronald any less intelligent than his little sister of the same litter Maureen. Ronald simply is less intelligent than Maureen as part of his character. Ronald is bigger than Maureen and sometimes is too strong, too rough, when they tumble and fight.

Ronald can be a bully. Maureen will share her throne-ledge of mortar behind the curtain and just outside the window bars designed to keep the monkeys out. Maureen will groom and clean Ronald most meticulously there and allow Ronald to groom and clean her in return.

However Ronald, who has a bit of being a bully as part of his character, consistently refuses to share his throne. Ronald’s throne is inside. Ronald’s throne is in the middle of Grandmother Hilda’s house. That throne is between the floor all walk on and those dragons he dreams he can fly up to.. high on the walls and ceilings of Grandmother Hilda’s house.

Ronald’s most selfish throne is the bathroom sink.

The Bathroom Sink sits beneath the long mirror gifted to Grandmother Hilda by one of those who cares deeply for Grandmother Hilda living her gathering recent days so far from where she has spent nearly the entirety of her living days before. That gift of long mirror is nested in simple, almost invisible, wire lattice attached to the narrow tiled wall of an open hallway leading to both the tiled shower, with its own door, and the tiled commode stall, with its own door.

Ronald’s bathroom sink throne is therefore perfectly situated in the center of Grandmother Hilda’s house. Ronald’s bathroom sink throne is perfectly situated in that tiled hallway to gather all the sounds from inside Grandmother Hilda’s house and all the sounds coming in all the windows from outside the house. Ronald shows attention to these details with ears in fluttering motion even with closed eyes. The little lion Ronald is not as intelligent as his sister Maureen, but, he isn’t completely stupid.

Ronald guards his throne vigorously. When one approaches to wash their hands Ronald is unmoving until several seconds after the water is turned on. Then finally, soaked thoroughly, Ronald jumps down in disgust and waggles away unable to decide whether wet paws or soaked coat of fur need shaking first. Ronald is big and sometimes too rough, but his magic isn’t being smart.

Maureen is very smart though and can use her magic of invisibility to hide her orange patches and thus do things that Ronald gets blamed for. No single little lion can get into all the trouble Ronald gets into.

Just this morning Grandmother Hilda had to bring Ronald back to her house from half way to the office. She carried Ronald into Grandmother Hilda’s bedroom and shut the bedroom door leaving Ronald shut inside. The bedrooms are the only rooms with mosquito wire inside the window bars designed to keep the monkeys out. Those windows try to keep both monkeys and mosquitos out, and hence little lions, in. There Ronald yowled and yowled. After speaking softly to Ronald from outside her bedroom window on her way again to the office, Grandmother Hilda paid no heed and carried on with her day.

Ronald, of course, made trouble for himself by climbing the curtains to the windows where he climbed the mosquito wire. Ronald has been doused by water in the sink. Ronald has been repeatedly doused by water for climbing the mosquito netting around and over Grandmother Hilda’s bed. Sometimes there is no time for water. Ronald got bonked on the head until the thought of returning to the floor abruptly became his own.

Then the door to Grandmother Hilda’s bedroom was left open. Ronald appeared in Grandmother Hilda’s living-room almost immediately to ask forgiveness and repeatedly butt that same bonked head into the hand that bonked it to seek petting and consolation. Purring ensued. After which walking across the computer keyboard and swatting at the computer mouse was the next patch of self-inflicted trouble Ronald got in to.

Or was it Ronald at all? I didn’t see Maureen’s orange patches anywhere during the morning’s transgressions, not on the little lion making trouble nor on any other little lion. Were Maureen’s orange patches made invisible? At least one third of the troubles must be Maureen making her orange patches invisible so she can get even with Ronald for being the bully. What else is invisibility magic for?

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We live among dragons here.. -mbili-

There are dragons buzzing over the places of water outside and once one was sitting on the clothesline just outside the back door, the kitchen door. It seemed untroubled by the laundry being hung up.

These, of course, are different magical dragons from the ones that the little lions cry up at from their place on floor, or couch, or table, or counter top, or refrigerator, or curtain, or curtain rod.. or even the top of a swinging open or closing door.

These magical flying dragons have lots more eyes.

They also have four wings. They also have beautiful iridescent colors. Science says these dragons are much older and conquered the earth long before the brownish scuttling ones the little lions so want to swat, pounce upon, and eat. These dragons were magically in flight over the earth one hundred million years before the scuttling ones who hide behind the curtains, couch, refrigerator and stove top popping out at just the right time to make Grandmother Hilda jump.

Grandmother Hilda’s magic has her little lions adoring Grandmother Hilda. No wonder they want to slay the scuttling dragons. Outside Maureen and Ronald leap into the air trying desperately to scoop the beautifully colored older magical dragons with many eyes and four wings into their longing mouths.

Ronald eats many things. Ronald has fought and eaten a praying mantis almost half as long as Ronald. Ronald has eaten scuttling dragons bigger than that praying mantis, and then thrown them up. Little lion Ronald ate a shrew yesterday after throwing and chasing it around Grandmother Hilda’s house for over an hour. Ronald then threw it up too. Did I mention Ronald just isn’t that smart? He eats all of everything even the parts that make him sick, and he eats the dragons and shrews he catches too fast.

Perhaps throwing up is Ronald’s magic.

Maureen doesn’t seem to have that problem. Both little lions are dragon slayers. They chow down on crickets, flies, spiders, roaches, ants, depending upon variety, and even the rare millipede that doesn’t roll into a little fat Frisbee. Millipede Frisbees are too fun to swat around. Ronald is brave enough to eat a praying mantis that is trying to eat him back.

Ronald is also brave enough to run into any type of trouble when Maureen cries out for help. One night he leapt through the window to confront whatever Maureen was calling for help over. After quite a noisy and loud kafuffle outside, Ronald returned to Grandmother Hilda’s bed completely soaked in mud.

Ronald was taken to his bathroom sink throne and washed thoroughly. Grandmother Hilda is glad to report Ronald was only covered in mud, nothing more troublesome. Grandmother Hilda is also proud to report that her little lion Maureen also battles and eats, without throwing up, little snakes.

Grandmother Hilda’s little lions eagerly do battle with and eat those things that might make Grandmother Hilda’s day even more filled with jumping. That should make up for the little lions both exercising the magic of making Grandmother Hilda jump on occasion too.

Grandmother Hilda is thankful she hasn’t caught sight of her little lions catching any of those older magical dragons with four wings, iridescent colors, and many eyes. Grandmother Hilda thinks they are beautiful. Besides, Grandmother Hilda explains, dragons eat mosquitos. Mosquitos like Grandmother Hilda. Grandmother Hilda, whose much magic includes loving almost everything and everyone, does not like mosquitos.

We live among dragons here.. -tatu-

You live among dragons too..

What dragons do you live among?

What needs slaying?

What makes you jump out of shock or fright?

What makes you leap with joy?



        Grandmother Hilda’s little lions have adopted her.

        They teach us about being adopted by the greatest Lion ever, 

        The Lion of Judah.

        The mightiest and most patient Lion willing to always go with 

        us into danger.

        There to battle and destroy that which darkens life.



        We might be more intelligent.

        We might be bigger.

        We might be more colorful.

        We might get into more trouble.



        Our magic may be invisibility.

        Our magic may be throwing up.

        Our magic can be anything.


Are we, in turn, little lions adopting other people too?

        Do we notice their dragons?

        Do we notice the dragons that make them jump out of shock or 

        fright?

        Do we notice the dragons that make them Leap for Joy?



Our magic can be anything.. anything.. anything..


For grandchildren, and their parents, everywhere whom we love more than breath..