MozamWeek

Bata and Semu are Bible translators If these guys don't get it... Artinha and Rosa are my household "staff"                              ... ask a woman! In Bible translation not everything is a theological question. Sometimes we have to find a way to explain an aspect of New Testament culture in the Nyungwe culture. Let's face it, even the best trained Nyungwe translator will get stuck on certain concepts! In many cases, it is just necessary to ask someone with different experiences - like a WOMAN! My maids, Artinha and Rosa, clarified the two concepts that follow for our visiting consultant during a chat after breakfast. Easy! There is no color purple... Lydia sells "purple cloth" in Acts. In Bible times, people would understand that to mean that the cloth was very expensive; only for the elite. In Nyungwe, they are baffled by the color purple. It might be red (but red is also used for brown)... it isn't blue (and we don

Tiny bananas make us smile a tiny bit. Christmas in Tete 2010 Some very random pictures of a side to my life that I usually don't publicize. Here is the story behind the story from the past few years. Hot Christmas. Interesting acquaintances. Food. Bugs. This is some of the good, the bad and the ugly of a missionary family in Tete! Christmas beetle- small, fuzzy and really red!  I can't get my husband to wear shirts at home, so I don't post pics of him very often I gave these guys Nyungwe Bible story books when I was visiting the immigration office. Then I found out they are Sena speakers! Interesting company. I meet people from many walks of life. I think Jesus would love to hang out with these ladies too! When we moved into this house the yard was depressing and bare. We didn't want you to feel sorry for us though! Many man-hours to plant grass in the depressing yard... it makes a difference! Nectarines are such a

After so many years on the mission field, we have stopped talking normally. At first, we secretly laughed at some of the awkward usage of veteran missionaries. Their English was "funny". Some of the vocabulary seemed unnatural and the accent was something between generic American mid-west and slight British with whatever influence of the country of current residence as well as traces of their own roots. Now, we've slipped into a middle funny foreign sounding English of our own. I've watched and listened to myself over the years and I'm not really proud of the accent I've acquired. I don't talk like the Indiana girl I was born to be... nor like the Pensacola transplant I became... nor like the Marianna resident I might have been during my teaching years in the panhandle of Florida. I don't sound like my Zimbabwean friends. I don't sound like my children's South African teachers . I don't sound like my American friends from Georgia or Ore