A Few Days Away

Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called, that you may obtain a blessing.

1 Peter 3: 9

Only a day late in posting this week! 

For starters, I’m feeling much better.  No stomach issues in over a week!  I can’t even tell you how relieved I am to be able to say that.  Also, in just two days we were able to raise more than enough money for our three sweet boys in Morogoro! Joseph, Damas, and Eliya, as well as their parents, are so deserving of this assistance and I am so thankful to you who donated and continue to keep this family in your prayers.  We’ve ended the fundraiser until this time next year, but if you would still like to make a donation, as always, I will list multiple ways you can do so at the end of this blog post.  

This past week was a busy one (a welcome change after being pretty much confined to my bed for three weeks).  At the beginning of the week we had a meeting with the three chairpersons of our wedding planning committee.  I had no idea that planning a wedding would teach me so much about Tanzanian culture.  In our meeting, teacher Albogast, Teacher Laudia, and Madam Peace went through a detailed list of items that needed to be discussed, decided upon, and priced so that they could then be discussed with the larger committee (the school staff) later in the week.  We talked about food, decorations, cake, housing for visitors, distribution of invitation cards, collection of contribution money (which is expected of anyone who attends the wedding), music for the service, the DJ, MCs, colors, matching clothes for all the staff members, drinks, to have beer or not to have beer, my hair and makeup, the time of the service, the length of the celebration, transportation, photographers, the list went on and on.  Madam Peace took detailed notes of everything we discussed and at the end, each chairperson listed their tasks for the week so that they could report their findings to the committee.  Joseph and I sat and listened mostly, giving our opinions on a few things here or there, but mostly letting them take charge as, obviously, neither of us has been married before.  After the meeting Joseph and I were completely overwhelmed.  

Being that we live in such a small town isolated from pretty much everything, and knowing that we needed several things, mostly material for sewing my dress, bridesmaids dresses, Joseph’s suit, and matching clothes for the staff, we decided to take a long-weekend trip to Dar es Salaam, the “New York City” of Tanzania.  We would be able to get everything we needed, and for significantly less money than here in Bukoba.  Aside from the items that we needed to get, I also really needed to get away for a bit.  I feel selfish saying that because we have a wonderful life here, but this past month it seems like there’s been trial after trial, my sickness being the biggest one.  We really needed a few days away to reset and refresh.  I took some time during the week to plan out everything we needed to find and looked at online reviews to see which shops would have what we needed.  I plotted the different stores on the map and scheduled out our days so that we weren’t running all over the place.  I found a good hotel that would put us close to restaurants and transport and booked our flights, and when Thursday morning came, I was beyond excited.  

We headed to the airport for our afternoon flight.  First we had to complete a COVID screening, and since I am not a Tanzanian, I had to write all my information in a log book.  But when we proceeded to the desk for our passport check, we encountered yet another problem.  The immigration officer flipped through my passport and asked me where my Visa was.  I showed him my last stamp.  “Wapi!” (where), he shouted back at me. “Hapa.” (here), I replied, pointing again to the stmap.  “This is expired.  You are illegal here.  You don’t have any other documents with you?” he said harshly.  I began to explain to him that I had already submitted my work permit application and he cut me off, “Where is you receipt?”  I pulled up my application on my phone and showed him.  “This is for work permit, where is your resident permit?” Again, I tried to explain that my work permit was in processing and that you can’t apply for your resident permit until you receive a work permit, but he interrupted me again.  He began asking me where I lived and who I was here working for, then he walked away and made a call on his phone (I should add here that while my tourist Visa was expired, I had been expecting to get confirmation on my work permit any day.  In fact, when I came back to Tanzania in August, I was told that my work permit was already approved, so they only issued me a 30 day Visa, but once we went to retrieve the permit, they told us we needed to submit additional documents, and we have been waiting ever since. When my permit expired, I asked the woman assisting me with the process if I needed to cross the border to renew it, and she told me to stay put, that the work permit would be ready soon.  But because we were flying domestically, I didn’t think even think about my Visa being an issue.  Also, we started this whole process in September of LAST YEAR). He returned and told us that we needed to go to the Immigration office to pay a fine and that we should go quickly so that we could still make our flight, which was leaving in an hour.  We called the taxi back and as we waited for him, the Immigration officer continued hassling us.  “You better hurry. Where’s your car? She’s illegal here.  You can’t just stay here without a permit.” 

On the way to the Immigration office we called teacher Kaolokola who immediately scrambled to meet us there, along with Aaron, the manager for relations between the ELCT and ELCA.  Unfortunately, we arrived before them, and due to the lack of time, we proceeded directly upstairs to the boss’s office.  After a brief greeting, he immediately began condescendingly questioning me about my Visa, where I was living, my boss, and the status of my permit.  Any time he asked me a question and I began to answer it, he talked over me to Joseph.  The last straw was when he interrupted me, pointing at the date of expiry and said, “Can you read?!” to which I responded, “Yes, can you let me finish a sentence?!” As I explained the situation he asked to see my documents and for the phone numbers of teacher Kalokola and Iddah, the woman assisting me with my application.  Then he made a call to the airport telling them that Joseph was coming, but that they should put me on a flight the next day so that I could complete the “process”.  The “process” he was referring to was paying a $600 fee in US dollars, after which he would renew my Visa for three months.  He instructed his assistant to print out a reference number for me to deposit the money.  At this point we had 30 minutes before our plane was to leave.  There was no way I could withdraw 1,400,000 Tanzanian shillings, go to the bank and wait in line for them to change that into USD, then deposit the USD into this account that he was referencing, and then return to the office to get my stamp and get back to the airport.  When I explained that to him his response was, “so should we do?” Tears filled my eyes as I saw our few days away slipping away.  All the plans that we had made, the things we needed, gone.  That in combination with the stress of the past month was just too much.  I burst into tears, trying to stay quiet and cover my face with my shawl.  The officer continued talking with Joseph, instructing him to get to the airport so he didn’t miss his flight.  Joseph told him that he wasn’t going without me, that we would both go tomorrow.  More calls to the airport, followed by a call to Teacher Kalokola who was on his way, and to Iddah.  Both calls he berated them, questioning how they could allow me to stay here like this, why they would advise me so poorly.  I felt terrible.  

With instructions to report to the airport to book a new flight and then start the “process”, we walked downstairs.  Teacher Kalokola and Aaron were waiting outside and immediately began asking what happened.  I took a few minutes to pull myself together before joining them.  Aaron explained that because I had already paid my Visa fee and my work permit application fee, and because the Diocese had also paid a fee to Immigration, he should not have asked me to pay any additional monies.  He quickly walked back inside to meet with a different Immigration officer, and my phone rang.  It was the man we had just spoken with.  He asked me to come back to his office.  As I walked inside to meet him, he was coming down the stairs.  “Just wait here.” He said.  I waited with Teacher Kalokola and Joseph who were discussing how ridiculous the whole thing was.  Minutes later, the man came back and handed me my passport.  “You just go.  When you return from Dar, you report back here.” I was in shock.  He started to walk away, but then quickly returned, “I need that receipt with the reference number I gave you.” I dug in my bag for the receipt and handed it back to him.  “You go quickly, they are waiting for you.”  With fifteen minutes before the plane was supposed to leave, we jumped in the taxi and he sped through town back to the airport, arriving just ten minutes before departure.  The same Immigration officer who stopped me earlier asked to see my passport again and then allowed me to enter.  Thankfully the plane was a bit delayed.  We actually had a minute to sit and breath once we got inside the airport.  We were totally stunned.  Teacher Kalokola called us later to explain that it never should have happened.  That the boss who we met was new and he was not aware of the relationship that the Diocese has with Immigration, and that if I had kept the reference number he gave me for payment, he could’ve gotten in trouble.  He assured me not to worry and that we would go together to speak with them when I returned. 

 
That night in our hotel room Joseph and I reflected on what had occurred.  I told him that with everything this year has thrown at us, it sometimes made me wonder why we were sent to Bukoba to begin with.  I was honest and open when I asked, “Is this God’s way of telling us that we shouldn’t be here?”  I knew in my heart that wasn’t true.  “Or is this just the forces of evil trying to discourage us.”  “I think it’s that one.” Joseph answered.  Of course, he was right.  We prayed about it together and prayed that God would protect us for the rest of our trip, and to fend off any enemies that may try to interfere.  

The rest of our trip was really wonderful.  Our friend Rhoida from Morogoro is studying in Dar and her school was on a semester break, so she was able to meet us every day and was a huge help in finding everything on our list.  We also met up with our friend Mathayo a couple times.  It was so nice to be with friends again.  It’s been difficult for us to meet people here in Bukoba.  Our life is confined mostly to school, especially due to COVID-19, so aside from the staff, we don’t know many people.  We have some acquaintances in town and Joseph knows some other motorcycle drivers, but no one that we get together with on weekends or just spend time hanging out with.  For the most part, it’s just us.  I consider Madam Peace to be my best friend here, and she really is a wonderful friend to both of us, but we miss our Morogoro friends dearly, so getting to spend time with Rhoida and Mathayo was exactly what we needed.  We ate at American style restaurants (even Pizza Hut!) and I was able to have iced coffee or lattes every day.  I think my favorite part was being able to take as many hot showers as I wanted, no boiling water or bucket and cup required.  It was also good for Joseph and me to have time away from our routine to really talk and reflect on everything this past year has entailed, and how we want to move forward, both in the immediate future, and in 2021 as a married couple.  

Again, I feel guilty even talking about enjoying these luxuries because while they may be part of everyday life in America, here they really are luxuries, not necessities, and I am not here in Tanzania to live a luxurious life.  I am here to accompany and walk alongside my community so that I can serve them and God to the best of my ability.  God called us here to Bukoba and has provided us with everything that we need to get by, including supportive friends like Madam Peace and Teacher Kalokola.  While I thank God for the time away because I got to experience some of my modern conveniences again, I also thank Him because that time away helped me to remember how blessed we are here in Bukoba.  We continue to pray for His provision, and I ask that you pray that God continue to protect us against any forces at work against Him and His plans for us. 

 
Mungu akubariki,
Allee

If you would like to donate towards my work in Tanzania, you can send donations electronically using: 

Venmo: @Alison-Gomulka

Cash App: $AlisonGomulka

PayPal: PayPal.Me/AlisonRGomulka

Zelle: alisonrg24@gmail.com

If you would prefer to send a check, you can mail it to:

Alison Gomulka

15601 Shady Brook Lane

College Station, TX 77845 

With Rhoida!

Some of the beautiful fabric we found to use at the wedding. 

One of the cafes we frequented over the weekend.  Delicious iced lattes!