An Englishman’s Home is.........

8.00 in the evening and we have washed up the dirty plates and saucepans from dinner. Dinner itself is often a technological triumph. The oven in our cooker has ceased to function in the proper way. It insists on going out at regular intervals. But we’ve discovered the solution! A piece of wire wound around the spindle of the oven-knob and tightened to hold it in place once the oven is lit works well, and usually results in a well-cooked meal. So far there have been no explosions, but time is probably not on our side and we think we might need a new cooker.

Of course for washing up there’s no running hot water – and indeed, sometimes there’s no running water at all. In that case we resort to the jerry cans Lucy has (hopefully) filled. But after dinner, provided we remember to put a pan of water on the gas to heat up whilst we’re eating, we can get cleared up pretty quickly and have a couple of hours to relax.

Sometimes one of us might decide to have a ‘pour’ (the local equivalent of a shower), in which case another pan of water has to be heated up. It’s a bathing process you get used to after a while; pouring boiling water into a bowl and mixing with cold water to achieve a reasonable temperature. Then, with the aid of a large margarine tub you can wash your hair and have a general, well, pour... It’s quite effective really, with the only attendant problem being the possibility of spiders or crickets jumping on you (see earlier blog for details).

But more often we’ll settle down to read, or watch a DVD, or listen to an episode of ‘This Sceptred Isle’ (we’re up to 1815 and the Battle of Waterloo), or even (sad people that we are) listen to the latest episode of ‘The Archers’. Sadder still, we have even been known to watch the odd episode of ‘The Weakest Link’, but don’t tell anyone!

It’s usually in the middle of a DVD that the power goes off and the DVD dies. That’s the cue for falling over the furniture in search of our solar lamp. Provided we’ve remembered to charge it we can at least read or do a Sudoku, or chat (we do talk to one another occasionally). At intervals we have to spray the lamp with Doom to annihilate the multitudes of flying insects that tend to colonise it. This results in a mini-graveyard which has to be cleared up after the power has been restored between 15 minutes and an hour later.

Bedtime is usually around 10.00 pm. A cup of tea in bed (old habits die hard) and a half-hours’ read, then the mosquito net is deployed around the bed, we turn off the light and are ready for sleep. Often we go to sleep pretty quickly, unless we’ve used the mozzie-net to trap a mosquito inside to share the night with us. It’s extraordinary the way they manage to discover where your ear is in the dark. They sound like light aircraft when they get that close. Then, it’s on with the head torch to hunt down the little beast, but they usually manage to hide very effectively. And so to sleep – until the water decides to return and we are woken by the sound of a mini-Niagara from the cistern in the roof as it fills up.

One other addition to the Kuluva day and night experience is a bell that has recently (yesterday) been installed in the Chapel clock tower. There’s no clock as such, but every quarter of an hour the bell strikes. Once at a quarter past, twice at half past, three times at a quarter to, then four times on the hour followed by the number of strokes to mark which hour it is. At midnight that’s sixteen strokes of the bell. This new arrival which so wonderfully and accurately marks the passing of time is the gift of a German expatriate – I doubt that he can hear it from his house, and in any case he’ll soon be going back to Germany. I don’t know if the Africans appreciate it, but for myself I may indulge in a little vandalism in due course.

Garden Talk

They say that if you plant a walking stick in Uganda it will sprout and take root. Uganda is, for the most part, blessed with fertile soil, temperatures that are not too hot (this is Africa!) most of the year, and plenty of rain. In many parts the countryside is green and lush all year round with banana groves, tea and coffee plantations, fields of maize and beans.

But our rocky hillside is a little more challenging. The soil is very sandy and doesn’t hold water well on the 1:3 gradient. Its also pretty thin, with bare rock showing through in many places. This year we had a serious drought (see previous blog) when most of the plants turned brown and sickly. We gave some of them up for dead, as we couldn’t justify using precious water to keep them alive when people were watching their crops die for lack of rain.

But now the rains have come, with regular thunderstorms and torrential downpours. When it rains hard the water pours off the roof and rock garden and runs down the hillside outside our house to form a river running into the storm drain and creating a lake on the path below. The land has turned green again – it happens within a day or two of the first good rains.

We’ve now been here two years, and its taken us this long to learn how to create a garden in such conditions. But now its beginning to take shape, though we are still somewhat envious of friends who live in the south of the country, whose garden of tropical luxuriance and abundant bird life blossomed in only a few years. During the first year here we planted a few shrubs in the front garden, to keep company with the one rather sad bougainvillea that was already there when we arrived – it had been pruned to within an inch of its life, but is now resplendent with purple blooms. Then last year we tried growing vegetables in the plot at the side of the house – but the monkeys ate all the groundnuts before they were ripe, and the tomatoes produced only pea-size green fruits that were of no use to man or beast. So we cut our losses and planted some more small shrubs there. At the back, where the soil is thinnest, we made a little rock garden with cuttings from a friend’s established estate.

Some of the plants we used to grow as pot plants in UK are naturals here. Mother-in-laws tongue, and tradescantia (‘wandering sailor’), for instance, and poinsettias that reach shrub-size proportions. Spider plants do very well in pots outside our front door – the single one we started with has produced babies with no regard to family planning! Then we have some small pink flowers that remind us of mesembryanthemums, only coming out when the sun shines – but of course that happens a lot more often here than at home. And succulents are happy here, though they look a bit different from the spiky cacti we are familiar with. Then there are the exotic beauties such as hibiscus and frangipani that wouldn’t stand a chance in a British climate.

So we enjoy walking around our little plot, talking to the plants and encouraging them on. And after the recent drought? We haven’t lost a single plant, they have all sprung up again, though some are still convalescing. That should be a lesson to us to persevere in other ground that may seem unpromising and dry.

Blessings from heaven

When it rains in Uganda, everything is disrupted. Its a bit like snow in England. We awoke this morning to a grey sky which, during the next hour, became blacker until the inevitable happened at 8am, just as we were due to go out for the 9km drive to the Diocesan HQ. Thunder, lightning, deafening rain battering on the roof. Torrents of water cascading down the hillside. A little frog sheltering beside one of our pot plants on the verandah – obviously this was too much even for aquatic creatures such as he.

But Allan was taking the morning devotions at the Diocesan HQ, so we felt we had better make the effort, even though rain in the morning usually means nobody turns up at work until it stops. After all, we have a roof that doesn’t leak, a car that goes, several umbrellas and kagoules – we don’t really have any excuse. Clothes already wet from the short run to the car from our back door, our car felt like a speedboat as we drove to Arua along roads that were all but deserted. The usual crowds around the market areas had vanished, the boda bodas (motorbike taxis) absent from their stands. An occasional lone pedestrian trudged along the road, drenched from head to foot.

Arriving at the Diocesan HQ we parked the car in a small lake and paddled to the office. Amazingly, we found a couple of doors open. Dripping into the office of the Diocesan Education Secretary we discerned four people already assembled in the gloom (the power was off), including the Bishop himself. So we sat and shared the Bible passage from II Corinthians 10, those who were too far from a window using a mobile phone torch to see the words. We considered Paul’s vehement defence of his calling as an apostle, and pondered our own calling on this soggy Ugandan morning. We prayed for those struggling in the weather, and for the Bishop going off to Maracha (usually an hour’s drive away, today rather more) for confirmations this morning. The rain will disrupt that for sure.

But six weeks ago we were suffering from the worst drought for some years, and the prayers were generally of thankfulness for the life-giving provision of rain, today and over the last few weeks. Now people’s beans and cassava will grow strong, and they will have food for the next year. That is much more important than soggy clothes and disrupted work patterns – even confirmation services.

“(S)he had suffered...under the care of many doctors” (Mark 5.26)

.......Well, not that many actually, only about three.

I had first visited the doctor about my leg about four or five ago. Anne has always been keen on extending my life by applying healthy doses of walking, and after particularly strenuous exertion I had begun to feel a dull ache in my right leg. In addition, I noticed a small lump developing around the site of the pain.

The first doctor diagnosed a varicose vein, which was a bit of a shock because I have always associated such things with advancing old age!! She said there was little that could be done at the time, but if things got worse to return.

I did return about 12 months later as the pain had become more frequent, about once a week, and a little more intense. By this time the GP had changed, but the verdict was much the same. Some gentle examination caused a little pain on that occasion, but not enough to complain about.

Just before coming to Uganda, the lump was much more pronounced and the pain more frequent and acute, so I visited our new GP in Leicester. He looked at it, and then proceeded to prod and squeeze the lump with some violence, causing extreme discomfort, nay, agony. He then added insult to injury by informing me there was nothing he could do about it, but maybe some cream applied externally would help........ I limped home from the consultation thinking dark thoughts about doctors in general and this GP in particular.

By July this year, the pain had become considerably worse and was occurring 2-3 times a day for around an hour with each episode. It seemed to be associated neither with extreme activity or standing still for a long time. It would occur at any time, sometimes even in the middle of the night.

Anne made an appointment for me with an expatriate GP in Kampala. I had refused ever to let another medical practitioner near it after my last experience – but Anne insisted, probably because I don't like pain and tend to inflict pain on others when I experience it.

So it was, that on 24th July I found myself in the doctor’s surgery in Kampala explaining how much I dislike doctors who prod me and cause pain without doing anything useful. The doctor looked, prodded (I yelled – but didn’t punch him on the nose), and said “You've got a varicose vein, but it's not that. I can get rid of the real problem.”
“How?” I asked, still aware of the painful throbbing in my leg.
"Just a little operation."
"When?" I enquired.
“Now, if you like. It’ll take about ten minutes.”

Five minutes later I was lying on a bed. The local anaesthetic was a real joy as, gradually, the pain in my leg subsided. I felt nothing as the doctor made his incision and exclaimed, “It’s a glomus body! I came across one of these when I was a student. The book said it was v.painful.”

I agreed.

Ten minutes and three stitches later the procedure was over. I got off the couch and have felt no pain in my leg ever since.

Anne and I reflected on how long such a procedure would have taken in the UK after consultations, scans, waiting lists........

Our conclusion – come to Uganda for an accurate diagnosis and speedy treatment.

Pastors, preaching and Plasmodium

Madi West Nile Anglican diocese is quite big – around 120km north to south, and 80 km across. That doesn’t sound too bad until you remember the state of the roads, and the fact that the River Nile has to be crossed on a dodgy ferry to reach Adjumani , the furthest point from the centre. The diocese is divided into ten archdeaconries, and recently we’ve been visiting each of them with a one day workshop for pastors.

On a typical day we set off about 8am, having loaded up with flipcharts, pens, handouts, water, Bibles, Lugbara hymnbooks and mosquito nets (all will be plain later!), and travel for perhaps two hours on suspension-shaking roads, not always entirely sure just where we are going. But there aren’t so many roads to choose from, and we haven’t got lost yet. We reach the archdeaconry headquarters around 10am, as promised, to meet a delighted archdeacon, who always seems slightly in doubt that we will actually come at all. He has called all his pastors together, usually around 10-20 men, and a sprinkling of women.

The venues are hardly ideal, but actually work pretty well – usually a round, open sided grass thatched hut, sometimes a simple church. Twice we sat outside in the shade, once on a verandah and once under a mango tree – a scene that has all the stereotypical qualities of Africa about it.

But the pastors won’t actually be there yet – over the next hour or more they gradually assemble, arriving on ancient bicycles or on foot, some having travelled for two hours or more to get there. Despite that they all arrive with a big smile and a handshake for everyone who is already there.

Then we begin with introductions, and talking about holistic mission and the appropriateness of combining teaching about spiritual and physical health. Next its Allan’s turn to teach about the vital importance of the preaching and teaching ministry in the Church of Uganda, where the pulpit is all too often given over to any lay person who fancies their chances, and little emphasis is laid on Biblical foundations. He includes some group work, and the pastors sit earnestly working together around a Bible, producing fascinating answers that give us many insights into local culture.

During the morning session we stop for ‘break tea’ around noon, usually bread, nuts, sweet potatoes or rice with a cup of black and sweet tea. Then lunch is around 2pm, or whenever the good ladies of the parish manage to produce it from their basic kitchen facilities. Sometimes the food is pretty unpalatable to us, but for the pastors it’s a feast and an essential part of the day.

In the afternoon Anne takes over with teaching on malaria prevention, and distributes some mosquito nets left over from a previous project. The pastors’ excitement at receiving a high-tech insecticide treated net is perhaps overshadowed by the offer of the packaging materials – particularly the strong metal bands that bind the bales. Excellent building material, we are told.

We finally manage to get away around 5pm, home by 7pm.

Each workshop is different, in ‘feel’ as well as in location, but all have been rewarding and have revealed so much to us about church life in this corner of Uganda. We have been appreciated as if we have been visiting heads of state.

Oh, and in case you are wondering, malaria is caused by a parasite, Plasmodium Falciparum

Timber!

In the grounds of Kuluva Hospital is a marvellous variety of trees. Eucalyptus can be found in quantity throughout this part of Uganda because they grow quickly and provide a sustainable source of timber and fuel. Others can also be found including mahogany, and these hardwoods are usually used for making furniture. Even the most ordinary pieces of furniture, chests of drawers, tables, plain chairs, etc. are usually made of solid mahogany and weigh a ton.

My dad, who was a master cabinet maker, would have loved it here with so much quality timber on hand. When he retired he had two or three garages filled with pieces of timber he was saving for some indeterminate job in the future, but there was nothing in those garages to compare with what is available here in West Nile.

Kuluva Parish is in the process of constructing a new Church building. It is an ambitious project, but the congregation has been working hard on it, and our home parish in Leicester at St Denys has been supporting them in the venture. In the present building the congregation sit on solid cement/mud benches (which are not too good if you suffer from piles!), so they are planning hardwood furniture for the new church.

The present church stands at the entrance to the site of Kuluva Hospital. Behind the church are several rows of terraced houses occupied by hospital staff, and surrounding them many trees, some small and shrubby, but others, truly venerable and majestic.

One night earlier in the year the area was buffeted by high winds. One especially strong gust of wind brought two of the biggest trees crashing to the ground. Miraculously they fell in such a way as to miss both the church and the houses and nobody was hurt. In fact they fell in about the only direction they could have done with causing very significant damage.

The church the following week echoed to songs and prayers of thanks to God for preserving both life and property in what could otherwise have had devastating and possibly tragic consequences. What was more, the church leaders realised that these trees would provide much of the timber they needed to construct the church furniture they required. Jehovah Jireh! Indeed, there was much rejoicing, and the following Saturday a team of church workers cut up the tree into manageable chunks.

They discovered, however, that there was not quite sufficient timber to make all the furniture, and so decided to fell another of the big trees to make up the shortfall. The work was carried out on a Thursday morning, the men cutting away at the base of the trunk, careful to ensure that it fell safely. But just as the tree was about to fall, a small breeze blew (or so I am told) which nudged it slightly to the right causing it to fall elegantly, but very heavily - on to the back of the church, demolishing half of the roof and one corner of the building! Nobody was hurt and the Pastor remained cheerful, but there was a degree of embarrassment at the irony of the situation.

Anne and I went away on a trip the following day wondering what they would do – the church did look pretty bad. But returning a week later, we found the back of the church reconstructed, the newly felled tree cut into pieces, and everything back to normal.

The resilience of these people is truly astounding.

Hunger Season

The cricket season followed the first rains. But they didn’t last. A couple of months of occasional downpours was enough to green up the grass and rejuvenate our struggling garden, but not enough to grow the life-giving crops. Now it is dry again and likely to remain so for a few weeks; hence the hunger season.

A small group of women meet on our verandah on Wednesday mornings for a short informal Bible study. Most of them do domestic work in the houses around here, and others are members of our local parish church. They are uniformly poor, engaging in subsistence farming with their families. In a mixture of Lugbara and English we sing, read a Bible passage, discuss, pray, and finish with a cup of tea – our sugar jar is always empty after Wednesday mornings! One of the women acts as translator both ways, as I have little Lugbara and some of them have little English. It’s always an encouraging experience to share with people who are hungry for some teaching, however brief, and who express a simple but profound faith.

The prayer requests illustrate the difficult lives they live. One woman had a field of cassava uprooted in the night – that represented her family’s bank account. Another said the neighbour’s goats had been eating her crops, and there had been arguments between the families. Another couldn’t find school fees for the orphans who were living with her family. But the biggest problem at the moment is ‘hunger’ and the lack of adequate rain – stalks of maize look fairly healthy, until you discover that they are all leaves, and the cobs that will feed the family are not developing. Groundnuts have withered before anything like a nut appeared. Stores of beans from last year’s harvest are running short. The next planting season is next month (provided it rains), but the harvest won’t be in until October.

So we pray that neighbours will tie up their goats, that fields will be protected, that school fees will be found, and for rain. It hasn’t come yet. But these women never waver in their trust in God. He will see us through, they say. They have seen hardship before. And our passage today? Consider the birds of the air...........your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not more valuable than they? (Matt 6:26)

It’s difficult, when the verandah is outside our little house – TV, computers, books, and a well stocked kitchen. The women never once cast an envious glance. But I am conscious that the loose change in my purse would buy them and their children a few meals. We give, yes, but it can never be enough, or sustainable against future ‘hunger seasons’.

Of course it’s a vicious circle of environmental degradation as well as the usual vagaries of weather and harvest. Trees are being cut down at an unsustainable rate to provide firewood and charcoal, still the commonest sources of fuel for cooking and washing. Land is increasingly scarce, and many people have no rights to the land on which they live, so risk eviction if a landowner is sufficiently unsympathetic. Soil is not enriched with any kind of fertiliser, so crop yield is low. Water sources are often polluted and streams reducing to a muddy trickle.

But the women still meet with a smile, and if we go to their homes we are never allowed to leave without being given some refreshment. “God is testing us”, they say, “but He will provide.”

We pray He does, soon.

We plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land
But it is fed and watered by God’s almighty hand........