How I was recently 'a-rasta-d'

I’m usually suspect of cell calls that don’t show a known ID. I’ll answer or sometimes let it ring out and text the person, asking for them to identify themselves so that I can return the call at my expense.
Most times, if I answer, it’s very hard to understand with muffled sound, strong accents or no English.

This time was no different. I was warmly greeted (the African norm), called ‘Mchungaji’ (pastor), so I knew it wasn’t a random call.
In these situations I’ll immediately ask how they know me, or got my number. The person indicated that a mutual friend gave it to him … but I soon lost track of what he was saying. The line was bad, his accent was strong and I wasn’t keen… so I hung up and texted him.
“Please text me about why you called” Often that’s enough of a hurdle to discourage people who are asking straight out for money etc…

In this case the reply came within a couple of minutes:
“My name is C---- A--- i m Artist I want to know so much about jesus christ and i meet with S---- (a Moslem friend of mine) and he told me you can understand me about that.Me is rasta my ofice is out the gate with (he names a large local store) please show me the way.sorry I don’t know to talk too much English. Thank you sir”

As it turns out, their ‘ofice’ is a phone-booth size shop that three of them run, selling Rasta gear … beading and beanies they make and sell right there.
When I called by on Saturday afternoon, they grabbed a bucket, turned it over and asked me to sit and talk. Within a couple of minutes another friend joined us, who turned out to be a Catholic Rasta(?) I was hoping and praying that he wouldn’t be a distraction – to the contrary, he was as hungry, if not more, than the others.
So there I perched, sharing Jesus with my little congregation of four, in one of the busiest and most notorious parts of town.
They showed me two Christian books they’d been given – had New Testaments at home, which they assured me they read faithfully.

Their request was this. “We are Rastas. We learn and we teach. Many people come to our ‘ofice’ to learn and we want to tell them about Jesus but we don’t know. You must help us. How much time can you spend?”

We spoke for an hour. It became clear they knew virtually nothing, so I did an OT and Gospels overview, with lots of fun tangents.

As we finished, I was tempted to ask them to come to church the next day (i.e. yesterday). Although they’re the other side of the city from us, it just so happens we run a free minibus service, literally starting at their little store! mmm....
But I decided to wait – we’d just met. Let them digest what we’d shared and next time I’ll invite them.
Well, that was not to be.
“Sir, where is your church? Can we come and visit? We like what you say!”

And so it was. Yesterday our three friends sat in the front row at Arusha Vineyard, in all their regalia, soaking it all in. They felt very welcome and ended up loving their first-ever visit to church (which is more than most of us can say!!!)

How cool is that?!

Another thing I find cool (and puzzling) is how God called a Swiss-born, Welsh-educated, French-speaking Australian/Canadian to Swahili-speaking Africa, to share His love with good friends made among the Moslems, Hindus, tribal Tanzanians and now Rastas.
Inashangaza … or as we would say in French, “C’est bizarre!”

Please pray for these guys – I expect to be telling you more of their stories as we get to know each other better. Maybe we'll soon have a Pasta Rasta?
In the meantime, I need to grow some dreads…