What begins as a conversation about wild donkeys roaming the roads of Tanzania unfolds into something much deeper.
In this episode of The Falls, Sarah Bartlett sits down with Tiffany to explore stories from years of serving in Tanzania, Cuba, and beyond. Along the way they reflect on unexpected hospitality, cross-cultural ministry, the sacred work of midwifery, and the ordinary moments through which God quietly transforms lives.
It’s a conversation about adventure, faithfulness, and discovering that some of life’s greatest lessons arrive in the most unexpected places.
Topics
- Tanzania
- Cuba
- Wild donkeys
- Midwifery
- Cross-cultural ministry
- Hospitality
- Faith
- Missions
Episode Transcript
The following transcript has been lightly edited for clarity and readability while preserving the original conversation.
Sarah Bartlett:
What’s up, Redding? Welcome to The Campfire. I’m your host, Sarah Bartlett, and I am so excited to bring you an episode with my dear friend Tiffany. She’s visiting from Samoa and spends a lot of time traveling back and forth there.
She’s also about to teach me how to pronounce her last name correctly because I practiced a few minutes ago… and I don’t trust myself to get it right. So, how do you say your last name?
Tiffany:
You were almost there.
Sarah:
Luoyani?
Tiffany:
Lefuleiai.
Sarah:
Beautiful. Oh my gosh.
I’m so excited to have you on the show. Every time we hang out, we have the most fun. I just love you, and you’ve lived such an adventurous life.
But first—we have to talk about donkeys.
I’m obsessed with this. We have to talk about the wild donkeys of Samoa because I have decided this is my purpose in life. Now I know why I was born. I need to go find these donkeys, tame them, and make this our next adventure.
So… how many wild donkeys are there in Samoa?
Tiffany:
I have no idea.
I think it was after the Germans—or maybe another group—brought donkeys over for labor. When they were finished using them, they simply let them go. They became wild, and now there’s a huge population living near our main airport.
When you drive out, you’ll see this big stretch of brush, and every now and then the donkeys just come wandering out. Sometimes they stop traffic, but they usually stay around that area.
There are so many of them that the government has basically said, “If anyone wants to catch and tame them, go ahead.”
Sarah:
Slow down.
What I hear you saying is that as soon as I get off the airplane, I’m going to see wild donkeys right across the road from the airport.
This is the plan.
I need to see this. That is so cool.
So Samoa was colonized by the Germans, and they’re the ones who brought the donkeys over?
Tiffany:
I think they were one of the groups. We had a few different countries come through, but Germany was definitely one of them.
Sarah:
Well, I’m really excited to have you here because I wanted to pick your brain about your journey with the Lord and your years as a midwife.
That’s such an incredible calling.
How many babies do you think you’ve delivered? I’m asking way too many number questions.
Tiffany:
I wasn’t prepared for that.
Sarah:
Just a ballpark.
Tiffany:
When you’re training in midwifery, you assist your mentor for a long time before you’re the primary person delivering babies. So we always counted deliveries where we were assisting separately from the ones where we were leading.
Without assistance—where I was the primary midwife—I’d say at least fifty.
Assisted deliveries? At least a hundred.
We spent six months working in government hospitals in Tanzania, then another two to three months in Bangladesh. Our class split into two teams—one went to India, and my team went to Bangladesh.
It was really incredible.
Sarah:
That’s amazing.
How did you know you wanted to become a midwife?
Tiffany:
I actually didn’t.
When I started, my dad handed me a University of the Nations catalog and said, “Pick something. You’re going to go study it.”
So I looked for something that wasn’t a desk job—something practical. Healthcare seemed like a good fit. Originally, I planned to study primary healthcare. I had no intention of going into maternal healthcare because, honestly, I was terrified of holding babies.
Sarah:
Really?
Tiffany:
Yes! If you’re delivering babies, you actually have to touch them.
Sarah:
Right—you’ve got to get in there.
Tiffany:
I wasn’t afraid because I thought babies were scary. I was afraid I’d accidentally break one. They always looked so delicate.
Sarah:
Holding a newborn for the first time is weird. You’re thinking, “This is a lot of responsibility.”
Tiffany:
They’re so tiny. I kept thinking, “What if I hurt them?”
But throughout school and all the practical training, I realized babies are actually pretty hardy. They’re tougher than they look.
Sarah:
Are they really?
That’s amazing. You’re such a loving, nurturing person. Every time I’m around you, I leave encouraged. I can only imagine what a blessing it was for mothers to have you with them during one of the biggest moments of their lives.
To have someone carrying the presence of the Holy Spirit welcoming their child into the world—I imagine that changes the atmosphere in a really powerful way.
Tiffany:
It meant a lot to every mother who was able to safely deliver her baby.
The area of Tanzania where we served was very quiet outside the maternity ward. Families would wait outside, and you’d think they were waiting for someone in surgery with very little chance of surviving.
Later we learned why.
Where we were serving, it was common for either the mother or the baby to die during childbirth.
Many families came from villages without prenatal care. Some mothers had never been taught basic nutrition during pregnancy or received even simple medical guidance—things many of us take completely for granted.
Being there made us realize just how blessed we are and what an honor it was to share the knowledge we’d been given.
Tiffany:
We made it a practice that every time a mother safely delivered her baby, we’d make sure both mom and baby were healthy before walking outside to meet the family.
We would hold up the baby and simply tell them:
“Mom is alive. Baby is alive.”
The families would erupt with joy.
The grandmothers would cry. Fathers would have tears streaming down their faces. Everyone celebrated because they knew how easily the story could have ended differently.
You could tell how normal it was for them to wait outside not knowing whether they were about to celebrate a birth… or grieve a funeral.
So every single time, we’d go straight out to them and say,
“Your daughter is doing great.”
“This is your grandchild.”
“This is your little sister.”
It was beautiful.
Sarah:
That’s incredible.
Every time they saw a woman survive childbirth, it was almost like witnessing a miracle.
It really puts into perspective how much we take healthcare for granted here.
I’m so thankful for all the lives you’ve helped save—and the lives the Lord has saved through you.
Where else have you served besides Tanzania, Papua New Guinea, and Samoa?
Tiffany:
I probably should have written down a list.
Sarah:
No test afterward, I promise.
Tiffany:
Oh gosh…
Sarah:
Okay, let’s make it a game.
Give me your favorite story from a continent.
Tiffany:
Just don’t pick South America. I haven’t been there.
Sarah:
Okay… Europe?
Tiffany:
Europe can be…
Sarah:
Africa.
Tiffany:
Back to Tanzania. One thing you try to do whenever you travel is learn a little bit of the local language.
There was one first-time mom we cared for who had never been told what labor would actually feel like. When her contractions started, she genuinely believed she was dying.
We were trying to explain everything with the little Swahili we knew while also asking the local nurses to help us communicate with her.
Some of the healthcare workers were incredible—you could tell they truly loved serving their people. Others were simply there because it was a job. Unfortunately, one of the nurses just turned around, scolded her, and basically told her to be quiet and give birth.
When we realized what had happened, we said, “You go help someone else. We’ll stay with her.”
Tiffany:
We stayed with her through every contraction.
She was absolutely terrified. She had never been told what labor was, what contractions felt like, or what to expect. She honestly thought she was dying.
We kept encouraging her, reminding her to breathe, and doing our best to communicate despite the language barrier. We knew just enough Swahili to comfort her, but not enough to explain everything.
Eventually, she grabbed both of my ears.
She squeezed them as hard as she could through the next contraction.
I remember thinking, My ears are going to fall off.
When the contraction ended, I looked at her and said, “My ears hurt!”
She burst into laughter.
It completely changed the atmosphere in the room.
From that point on, every contraction came, she’d grab my ears, we’d both laugh afterward, and she slowly relaxed. It became our little joke through the whole labor.
By the time she delivered her baby, she wasn’t afraid anymore.
It was amazing how something so simple could completely change her experience.
Sarah:
That’s incredible.
Sometimes people don’t need someone to fix everything—they just need someone to stay with them.
Tiffany:
Exactly.
Presence matters.
I think that’s one of the biggest things I learned as a midwife. You can’t always take someone’s pain away, but you can make sure they don’t walk through it alone.
Sarah:
That’s such a picture of who Jesus is.
He doesn’t always remove the hard thing immediately, but He’s with us in it.
Tiffany:
Absolutely.
There were so many moments like that.
Working in those government hospitals was intense. Some days there were women laboring everywhere. There weren’t enough beds, enough staff, or enough resources.
But even in the middle of all that, you could still see the dignity every woman carried.
Each birth reminded us that this wasn’t just another patient.
This was someone’s daughter.
Someone’s wife.
Someone’s mother.
Every baby represented an entire future.
Sarah:
Did that change the way you viewed women?
Tiffany:
Very much.
One of the things that struck me most was realizing that women are literally the gatekeepers of life.
Every single person who has ever lived entered the world through a woman.
When you begin helping bring life into the world over and over again, you gain an entirely new respect for women—for their strength, their courage, and what they’re capable of.
It changed me.
Sarah:
I love that.
I’ve never heard someone describe women as the gatekeepers of life before, but it’s true. There’s something incredibly sacred about that.
Tiffany:
There really is. And it made me appreciate mothers in a completely different way. You realize how much sacrifice happens long before anyone celebrates the birth of a child.
Pregnancy, labor, recovery… it’s all incredibly costly.
But it’s also incredibly beautiful.
Sarah:
Did serving in Tanzania change the way you saw the Church, too?
Tiffany:
Absolutely.
When you travel, you realize that the body of Christ looks different all over the world. People worship differently. They express themselves differently. Their cultures are different.
But when you meet someone who genuinely loves Jesus, there’s an immediate connection.
You may not speak the same language, but you recognize the same Spirit.
I think that’s one of the most beautiful things about traveling.
Sarah:
That’s one of my favorite parts of hearing stories from people who’ve lived overseas.
It reminds us that the Kingdom of God is so much bigger than our own little corner of the world.
Sometimes we can unintentionally believe the way we do church is the only way to do church.
Then you meet believers in another country and realize God has been moving there long before you arrived.
Tiffany:
Exactly.
One of the biggest lessons I learned was to come in as a learner.
You’re not arriving to save people.
You’re arriving to serve.
There’s a huge difference.
When you enter another culture assuming you have all the answers, you’ll miss so much of what God wants to teach you.
But if you come with humility—ready to listen, ready to learn—you begin seeing the beauty God has already placed there.
Sarah:
That’s really good.
I think that’s true even outside of missions.
Whether it’s another culture, another church, or even another neighborhood, there’s something powerful about entering with curiosity instead of assuming you already know everything.
Tiffany:
Exactly.
There are certainly moments where you bring training or practical knowledge that can genuinely help someone.
But ministry was never meant to be one-sided.
We receive just as much as we give.
Honestly, I think I’ve learned more from the people I’ve served than they ever learned from me.
Sarah:
Isn’t that funny?
People often picture missionaries as the ones changing everyone else’s lives.
But every missionary I’ve talked to says they came home completely changed themselves.
Tiffany:
I think that’s because you begin seeing the world through someone else’s eyes.
Your priorities shift.
The things you thought mattered don’t seem nearly as important anymore.
And you start noticing joy in places you never expected to find it.
People with very little can be incredibly generous.
Communities with fewer resources often have a much deeper dependence on one another.
That challenged me in the best way.
Sarah:
That’s something I hear over and over again from people who spend time in different parts of the world.
It’s easy to assume abundance automatically leads to a better life.
But sometimes abundance can actually make us less dependent on one another.
Tiffany:
Yes.
Community looks different when people genuinely need each other.
You see neighbors sharing meals, caring for one another’s children, helping however they can.
It’s not unusual. It’s just life.
Watching that made me ask myself what we’ve lost in our own culture—and what we could learn from theirs.
Sarah:
You’ve mentioned growing up in YWAM a few times. What was that like?
Tiffany:
It’s funny because I don’t really know anything different.
For me, it was just normal life.
We lived in a community where people from all over the world were constantly coming and going. Different cultures, different languages, different backgrounds—it was simply how I grew up.
As a kid, I didn’t realize how unique that was.
Sarah:
I imagine that gives you a completely different perspective on people.
Tiffany:
It does.
When you’ve spent your whole life around people from different countries, you learn pretty quickly that everyone sees the world a little differently.
Instead of assuming someone’s wrong because they do something differently, you become curious.
You start asking, “Why do you do it that way?”
Most of the time, there’s a really beautiful reason behind it.
Sarah:
I love that.
Curiosity feels like such an important part of loving people well.
Tiffany:
I think so too.
It doesn’t mean every cultural practice is healthy or should be embraced without question.
But it does mean we should approach people with humility before making assumptions.
There’s so much we can learn from one another.
Sarah:
Was there ever a moment where you experienced culture shock coming back to the United States?
Tiffany:
Definitely.
One of the biggest differences I noticed was how individualistic our culture is.
In many of the places I’d lived, life revolved around community.
People shared meals together.
Children belonged to the whole village in many ways. Everyone looked out for one another.
Neighbors stopped by without calling first.
There was a rhythm of living life together that I really appreciated.
Coming back, I realized how much more isolated we can become without even noticing it.
Sarah:
That’s so true.
Sometimes we don’t even know we’re missing community until we experience it somewhere else.
Tiffany:
Exactly.
It made me value hospitality in a whole new way.
Opening your home, sharing a meal, making space for people—those things matter.
They create opportunities for relationships that don’t happen any other way.
Some of my favorite memories from traveling aren’t the big adventures.
They’re the evenings spent sitting around someone’s table, drinking tea, telling stories, and laughing together.
Those are the moments that stay with you.
Sarah:
I think those are the moments everyone is actually searching for.
Not necessarily another vacation or another accomplishment—but genuine connection.
Tiffany:
I think so too.
At the end of the day, people remember how you made them feel.
They remember who welcomed them.
Who listened.
Who made room for them.
Those simple acts of hospitality have a way of pointing people toward the heart of God without needing many words.
Sarah:
One thing I’ve always admired about you is how naturally you make people feel welcome.
Do you think that’s something you learned from traveling?
Tiffany:
I think so.
When you’re the outsider over and over again, you never forget what it feels like when someone welcomes you in.
You remember the families who invited you to their table.
The people who made room for you.
The ones who made you feel like you belonged, even when you didn’t speak the language.
Those moments stay with you.
So when people come into my home now, I want them to experience that same kind of welcome.
Sarah:
That’s beautiful.
Hospitality really is a ministry.
People often think ministry has to happen from a stage, but so much of it happens around a dinner table.
Tiffany:
I agree.
Some of the most meaningful conversations I’ve ever had weren’t planned. They happened over a meal, while washing dishes together, or sitting on someone’s front porch.
Life happens in those ordinary moments.
That’s where trust grows.
Sarah:
I love that.
Sometimes we spend so much time trying to create extraordinary moments that we miss the ministry sitting right in front of us.
Tiffany:
Exactly.
God is present in the ordinary.
He meets people in everyday life.
And when we make space for people in our daily rhythms, we’re creating opportunities for Him to work in ways we may never fully see.
Sarah:
That’s such an encouragement.
I think people can feel like they have to move across the world to make a difference.
But what I’m hearing you say is that faithfulness starts wherever you are.
Tiffany:
It really does.
Not everyone is called to move overseas.
Not everyone is called to become a missionary or a midwife.
But everyone can love the people God has placed in front of them.
Everyone can be generous.
Everyone can practice hospitality.
Everyone can encourage someone who’s hurting.
Faithfulness isn’t measured by how far you travel.
It’s measured by your willingness to say yes to whatever God asks of you.
Sarah:
That’s so good.
I think that’s incredibly freeing because it means our calling doesn’t have to look like someone else’s.
We don’t have to compare our lives to anyone else’s story.
We just have to be faithful with the story God has given us.
Tiffany:
Exactly.
God writes each story differently.
The important thing is simply being willing to follow Him wherever He leads.