Christmas 2007 to New Year 2008

It's 21.40 on 31st December 2007 after the strangest Christmas we've ever known. Even now it's just struck me that this will be the first New Year we've known that won't be ushered in with the chimes of Big Ben and the strains of Auld Lang Syne on the radio or TV.

Christmas morning dawned sunny and hot after the first Advent-less approach to Christmas and Christmas Eve without a Midnight Christmas Communion in 38 years. We awoke to a house without electricity or running water as the power cable from the hydro-scheme had been severed by termites, and the water is dependent on an electric water pump. We were very grateful to have a cooker running on bottled gas as this meant we could still entertain the guests we had invited to share our frozen chicken from Kampala.

The Christmas morning service began at around 10.00 am. Two-and-a-half hours later it was still going strong, although by that time the spirit of Christmas joy had been somewhat stifled by prayers against 'the spirit of disco-dancing' and a condemnation of condoms! We, very wickedly, left the service before the results of the competitive Christmas collection (don't ask) had been announced!

This service at Kuluva was a far cry from the 3-hour Carol Service we attended at St Philip's in Arua the previous Sunday - a service of 11 Lessons and Carols with added contributions from the children and a hilarious Nativity Play by the Young People. The blond-haired, blue-eyed female baby doll which took the part of the baby Jesus was an entirely new interpretation of the Christmas story for us, and one of Herod's guards was truly terrifying. I had been invited to preach at the service by a colleague from Ringili, and finally got up to preach after two-and-a-half hours of the service in a highly excited atmosphere following this performance and a truly lively rendering of Joy to the World. I really enjoyed the service, and the opportunity to preach a Christmas message made me feel it really was Christmas. Unfortunately Anne's experience was less good because she didn't have such a good view as me, and was also sitting in front of the PA loudspeakers. The average age of the 200+ strong congregation was probably less than 30. It was an encouraging celebration and a good start to Christmas.

Christmas Eve was spent muzungu-style in the grounds of Radio Pacis - the Roman Catholic local radio station. A group of some 50 ex-patriates sang Christmas Carols in candlelight around an absolutely enormous Christmas tree growing there, festooned in literally thousands of lights. Singing was followed by food accompanied by 20 different flavours of ice cream produced by our American host who runs the radio station. It was a good 'do', but it was a universe away from Uganda.

The start of Christmas Day we've already described - but it did improve. We spoke to our children on the phone before we ate, then had a truly scrumptious Christmas dinner with our 3 German and 2 Scottish guests from Kuluva. We all wore silly paper hats and sang around the dinner table before they left us to a quiet end of the day with an hour's worth of Christmas Carols on the remaining battery in our laptops, and (but don't tell anyone) a couple of glasses of wine from a bottle we'd smuggled in from Kampala.

So now we await the New Year. We can hear strains of a Lugbara knees-up drifting up to us from Kuluva Chapel. We'll probably go down there later. But then tomorrow morning a service at which I am preaching. New Year is at least as big as Christmas here. And the only real negative on the horizon is having to have our rear shock-absorbers renewed. They were finished off on our 1000 km tour of the diocese before Christmas.

We are quite looking forward to a period with slightly fewer new experiences than we've had over the past 2-3 weeks, just to re-group. But the New Year promises to be challenging and stimulating.

We pray that you will all know God's blessing in the year ahead.

Cathedral Consecration Part 2 - Emmanuel

I was not the last member of the clergy to arrive for the procession, and so had the company of others who also had to robe in record time before moving swiftly to catch up with the procession which was by now nearing the entrance to the old cathedral.

The old cathedral has seen much better days and for some time the diocese has been advised to vacate the building for safety reasons. But that didn’t prevent one final act of worship in the crowded building for its de-consecration. The bishop acknowledged that some would be sad to see the end of the old cathedral, but the dominant mood was one of celebration. The singing was energetic, and thankfully the roof remained intact!

A final procession from the old cathedral led us out into bright sunlight. There were crowds of people, and accompanied by the sound of a brass band, drums and singing, the procession (by now more of a dance) passed between a guard of honour made up of the Mothers’ Union, members of the Boys’ and Girls’ Brigade, Guides and other uniformed organizations. We were headed for the new Cathedral about a quarter of a mile down the road past the Diocesan Office.

The West Door of the Cathedral was festooned with balloons and ribbons, but we didn’t enter. Instead, continuing to sing To God be the Glory, the procession was directed to ‘dance’ its way around the perimeter of the building - once only, not seven times - although the trumpets continued to sound in bravura fashion.

Arriving at the West Door for a second time we came to a halt. Bishop Joel knocked on the door three times with his staff - “The peace of God be in this house”. The crowd responded enthusiastically “Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!” and we entered the Cathedral, singing a Lugbara hymn – which some of us had to make up – or sing in tongues.

It took some time for the members of the congregation to take their places, but finally the service to consecrate the new cathedral began in earnest. If the service had been happening in a British cathedral, every move would have been worked out in minute detail and, probably, the printed orders of service would have been ready to be used in the service. But here there was a delightful spontaneity, aided by the fact that the Orders of Service didn’t appear until they were no longer needed

Up to two years ago Madi and West-Nile Diocese had been in some turmoil and in need of much love and healing. On this Advent Sunday in a new cathedral, a new beginning was made. Bishop Joel’s predecessor was present and God’s grace was apparent as Bishop Joel and he embraced one another. The Archbishop preached on the Parable of the Talents, congratulating the diocese on the work they had done to bring the cathedral to its present state of readiness. In fact the floor isn’t yet complete, and some windows and doors remain to be put in place, but in this condition it was a good parable in itself of a work in progress. I was reminded of Philippians 1.6 “......being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

Emmanuel Cathedral – that is the name it shares with its predecessor – and a good one for an Advent celebration. The forgiveness and reconciliation evident in the service, the fellowship shared over Ugandan food and bottles of soda afterwards, and the spirit of worship and celebration; all were testimony to God’s presence in this place and a genuine readiness in his people to listen and to follow. There is still so much to do, so much spiritual growth needed in clergy and congregation alike for us to be equipped to face the future, but ‘Emmanuel’ – God is with us. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Cathedral Consecration Part 1 - African Time

We returned from Kampala relieved to be back home, away from CHOGM and the dust of the city.

We were also glad to be back in time for the consecration of Madi/West Nile’s new Cathedral in Mvarra, which was due to take place the following weekend on 2nd December. The consecration was to be the centrepiece of a 12-day visit the Archbishop of Uganda was making to the diocese.

We went to church our first Sunday back, hoping to learn about arrangements for the consecration. Notices are a significant part of many Ugandan church services (sometimes taking at least as long as the sermon), and usually include a “welcome” to visitors and a “welcome back” to anyone who has been away for more than a few days. We were duly welcomed back after our month in Kampala, but there was no mention of the cathedral consecration.

After the service we asked whether the consecration was still taking place the following Sunday. We were assured that it was. But when? Possibly 9.00 am, or maybe 10.00 am............although it could conceivably be later......or earlier.

Enquiries on Monday at the college in Ringili yielded no more reliable information. It hadn’t been announced on Sunday at St Philip’s, a church in Arua just down the road from the new cathedral. Various attempts to find out what was happening during the week proved no more successful.

On Friday, the Hospital Chaplain said that the service was definitely starting at 10.00 am, and that we should leave Kuluva at 9.30. To make sure I thought it would be a good idea to go to the Diocesan Office to ask the Diocesan Secretary. No, the service wasn’t starting at 10.00 am but 9.30. Be there for 9.00 am to robe.

Returning to Kuluva we met the Hospital Administrator, who told us that he had received four invitations to the consecration. We should have one of them. Taking the precious invitation we were glad to see that the invitation said 9.30 am. We arranged to take the Hospital Administrator, the Chaplain and one or two others in the car. Meet at 8.40 on Sunday morning we said.

Sunday morning at 8.45 we had just one of our passengers. It took a further 10 minutes to collect the others – a different group than the one we had first arranged.

We arrived at the cathedral at 9.10 am just as the bishop was praying at the start of the procession. For once, African time had been replaced by European time - and I was late! One mortified muzungu!

A few days later we discovered that the bishop of Nebbi, the neighbouring diocese, had received his invitation by text on Friday evening. He was otherwise engaged.

Healthcare Uganda Style

Ugandans are good at improvisation. They have to be. If you haven’t got a drip stand in the mission hospital, you hang the infusion bottle on the slats of the louvre window. There are no 20 ml syringes today – no matter, just draw up 5 mls four times from the bottle of intravenous glucose, using the same needle each time to pierce the (non-sterile) rubber bung. The drug of choice for meningitis is out of stock? Well, we have a couple of other antibiotics in stock, so we will try one of those. If that doesn’t work, we’ll try the other one.

But improvisation really comes into its own in community healthcare. A child health clinic can be set up anywhere, provided there are a few shady trees, a wobbly table and chair or two, and a handy branch from which to hang the weighing scales. During the long wait for immunisation or treatment, mothers dress and undress the babies in the shade of the 4x4 in which the team came – underneath the chassis. Well, it’s cool and dry, and the babies don’t seem to mind looking at the grimy underside of a very old Toyota.

The old woman in the picture is in her 80s – although average life expectancy in Uganda is 50 years, there are some who live to old age. And she can still sit comfortably on the floor to have her blood pressure taken! After this clinic for old people, which was held in her house, she produced a meal for the healthcare team of matoke (plantains steamed in a parcel of banana leaves) outside the house on a charcoal stove. Kitchen gadgets, even pots and pans, are redundant here.

But sometimes improvisation is not enough. A mother turned up towards the end of a rural outreach clinic carrying a small child, very sick with malaria, in her arms. She had gone to her local health centre, and been told the child needed to get to hospital quickly. The health centre had neither drugs to treat the baby nor transport. She heard our team was doing an immunisation clinic under a tree in a nearby village, and that we had a vehicle. She walked with the child for an hour or so to find us.

We packed up the clinic early and put mother and child in the vehicle with us for the 20km drive back to the hospital. The child was unconscious, with laboured breathing. There were no blue flashing lights as we drove back at normal speed, the team chatting among themselves. The mother was silent, with an expression on her face that suggested little hope and a familiarity with loss. Just as we drew into the hospital gates, the baby died.

Some transport was found to return the mother and dead child to her village.

Malaria is largely preventable, and deaths from the disease almost always avoidable. If the mother had used a mosquito net, if stagnant water near her home had been drained, if she had given effective medicine at the first sign of fever, if she had got help as soon as the baby deteriorated ……if……if……….

Living Out Of A Suitcase

The Guest House at the Ugandan Protestant Medical Bureau (UPMB) in Kampala is comfortable enough, but still the prospect of living out of a suitcase for four weeks in one of its rooms didn’t fill us with delight. Nevertheless, the Ugandan Nurses Council decision that Anne should complete one month working in a Kampala hospital to receive her nurse registration meant that we had little option.

UPMB is situated in the Mengo district of Kampala on the Balintuma Road. Walking from Albert Cook Road past Mengo Hospital and down Balintuma Road after dark can be an exciting business. There are no street lights, so avoiding the open manholes and stray pieces of reinforcing rods emerging from the pavement is an art, not least because headlights on full beam from oncoming traffic tends to blind the poor pedestrian. Then closer to the Guest House there is no pavement at all and recent ‘slashing’ of foliage along the side of the road has resulted in a tangle of branches and other sharp objects for the unsuspecting walker to trip over, possibly into the path of oncoming boda-bodas (motor-cycles) with no lights at all or, veering off course, falling into a storm drain.

The main reason we stayed at UPMB was the cost of its rooms - a very reasonable 37,000 Ush per night (c.£10.60). But there is no lounge, you have to pass an Advanced Driving Test in order to park your vehicle in its restricted parking area, and meals are served in a large and cheerless room often with empty tables because people who stay here frequently eat out.

We ate out on our first evening, and walking back along the Albert Cook Road past a petrol station, saw a small crowd gathered there. There, in the forecourt, was the body of a man who had been shot by the petrol station’s security guard shortly before. The story appeared in The New Vision two days later.

But there are benefits living here. For Anne, Mengo Hospital, where she is based for the month, is only five minutes’ walk away, as is the Church of Uganda Provincial Office (for Allan’s benefit) and Namirembe Cathedral. But there is a much more significant benefit, to meet other people who stay at the Guest House.

This is the reason we eat here every other day, simply to meet people like Ernest Sempebwa. Ernest is a Ugandan, easily well into his ‘70s, who for many years lived and studied in the UK, at one time looking after all the Ugandan students who came to London University. He is very well educated, and his thinking and conversation are razor-sharp (even first thing in the morning), but seasoned with a wonderful sense of humour, genuine humility and a lively Christian faith. He comes to UPMB with a team of others (old and young) who are in the process of producing a new translation of the Bible into Lugandan (the local language of this region). They have been working on it for 18 years! A teacher by profession, Ernest, and those he is working with, can transform the dining room with their sheer energy and enthusiasm.

The same is true for cosmopolitan conversation and Christian fellowship with other Ugandans, Germans, Canadians, Kenyans, Americans, South Africans, South Koreans, and so many others. The picture above is of a group of health workers from Rwanda, Judy, Michel and Jean who were on a course in Kampala. We had a great evening with them and this picture is just a token of the rich experiences we have enjoyed even in our four weeks living out of a suitcase in a single room at the UPMB Guest House in Kampala.

Perhaps it’s not so bad after all.

Defining Rubbish

Coming from a society in which disposing of rubbish is an increasingly complex and costly business, and a visit to the dumpit site has become almost a form of recreation, it is delightful to find ourselves in a community where, it seems, very little is counted as rubbish and obsolescence is practically unheard-of.

When we bought our 1993 Toyota Prado Landcruiser, it was hailed as a ‘new’ car, and in truth it is relatively new by Ugandan standards. Most cars on the road in Uganda start their life as 10-year-old used-car imports from countries like Japan. They are then subjected to the most severe road conditions imaginable and many are kept going long after they should have been written-off.

But this is true of so many things. Many of the items we dispose of are gratefully retrieved by Lucy (our home-help) for her own use: old plastic squash bottles can be used for storing kerosene, cooking oil or other liquids (and yes, we know of the dangers to children); old saucepans and casseroles with loose handles, or no handles at all are still perfectly serviceable for Lucy; and an old, not very attractive, battery-driven clock which had given up the ghost, she retrieved saying she knew someone who could mend it.

Which brings me to the bowl and the flip-flops in the pictures.

A plastic bowl might cost around 3,000 USh (80p) in a hardware store in Arua, but if your monthly income is, 40,000 Ush (£12) or less that’s a great deal of money. So, when it suffers from plastic fatigue, you mend it.

The same with flip-flops. Anne bought these for 1,400 Ush (c.40p). It’s her second pair. The strap on the first pair became detached from the sole. She was going to throw them away, but Lucy wouldn’t hear of it. They can be mended for 100 Ush (you work it out!). Anne is looking forward to taking delivery of the repaired pair very soon.

Good Food Costs Less At ...........

At first sight, Arua’s fruit and vegetable market seems to offer little to the Sainsbury-trained eye. Familiar with the vast choice available in the average British Supermarket (next time you go shopping count how many varieties of lettuce, potato, tomato or carrot you can find), the limited options in Arua come as a bit of a shock.

What tomatoes shall we buy? Well, there are lots of them, but there’s only one variety, and none of them looks too good. Certainly they’d not find their way into an Asda store or on to a British market stall, and if they did nobody would buy them because they’ve got so many black marks on them.

Are carrots on sale today? Perhaps not in the market, but you might just be fortunate enough to see a woman (always a woman) on the road, carrying a bowl full of carrots, bananas or avocados, probably the produce of her own piece of land, grown to earn a few shillings to help the family income.

Potatoes, though, are here in plenty; two varieties: sweet (not the sort we’re used to) and Irish (that’s the sort we are used to). You can buy a regular bowlful, or a large bowlful, but none of them round and all impossibly difficult to peel.

But in reality you can usually get everything you need in Arua Market: onions, cabbage, lettuce, peas (sometimes) green and chilli peppers, cucumbers, courgettes (occasionally), and plenty of fruit – pineapples to die for, oranges (green), lemons (also green), passion fruit, bananas, and the most amazing avocados for 500 shillings each (that’s about 20p). Unfortunately mangoes are out of season at the moment, but only about a month to go!

There are other benefits too of shopping in the market here. Although you don’t have much choice in what to buy, there is a great deal of choice in who to buy from. The sellers are generally all very good humoured and don’t really know the meaning of the word ‘competition’ or time. This means they won’t hold it against you if you buy from someone else. That can spell problems for developing the local economy, but it does make shopping a wonderfully social activity as you meet so many different people selling their produce who like to ask where you come from and how many children you have. It also gives you a chance to practice your Lugbara (the local language) – and they love it when you try. Gales of laughter and delight greet even the most simple expression or phrase you attempt. But possibly that’s because you’ve got it wrong and are saying something truly ridiculous (or rude) without realising it!

The other great benefit of Arua Market is that everything tastes really good, and the last thing you would ever want to do is to waste any of it.

On Line!

On our arrival in Uganda on 18th August there were two issues we knew we needed to address as soon as possible. First, we had to find a vehicle, then we needed to establish reliable internet communications with home. Seventy-three days later we can announce that both of these issues have now been resolved.

A full account of the Ugandan-Process-for-Transferring-Vehicle-Log-Books saga must wait for a later blog - or it might be more appropriate to serialise the story. We would have told it sooner, but were prevented by a lack of success with our other ambition - to establish a reliable internet connection.

Some of you may well have noticed a smidgen (if that's how you spell it) of frustration in our last blog. This was due to the snail-like quality of the computer we were working on at the time. Since then, however, our levels of frustration with the internet have had occasion to rise to stratospheric levels.

We arrived in Arua to find that we had possible internet access in to two locations -the one computer with internet access located in the office of the Medical Superintendant's Secretary's office in Kuluva Hospital, and the Arua Internet Cafe 'Click 'n Surf'.

Frustration has been fed by 'Internet Incidents' (cf. Culture and Country Incidents) of which the following is a typical example.

Much time had been spent composing some deathless prose for onward transmission via blog or e-mail. The final results were duly transferred to a memory stick and we hastened to the hospital administration block only to discover it was locked. After the odd phone call and a little searching, a key was obtained and we gained access to the inner sanctum whence connections with the wider world may be made. There was much rejoicing......until, that is, we discovered the computer (being a prima donna of a computer) refused to read our memory stick.

We reverted to our own laptop to produce a CD replete with aforesaid deathless prose before returning to the administration block. Having been made privvy to the internet password, we attempted a connection - which failed, as did a second and a third. "Why is this?" (we wondered). "Perhaps the UTL network is down. We must fall back on plan 'B'."

Thus, some 30 minutes later found us at the Click 'n Surf clutching both memory stick and CD. We greeted the owner of the Cafe cheerily (we have seen him often), enquiring which computer we could use, but failing to notice that all the shops in Arua were strangely dark. The Internet Cafe owner hesitated, and looked at us with a expression which managed to both question our level of intelligence, and contain an element of sympathy. "Are they all being used?" we enquired. A rather stupid question considering that when we looked, most of them were clearly unoccupied and all of the screens were black. "No power," came the response, with remarkably Yorkshire-like succinctness. We retired to the street trying to maintain some dignity, but conscious of the barely stifled mirth of those who had been eavesdropping our conversation.

We returned to Kuluva - Mission Unaccomplished - discovering the following day that the reason the hospital internet hadn't worked was because the bill hadn't been paid!

But as from yesterday, everything has changed - we hope. After many phone calls and trips into Arua, and conversations with internet providers, and broken promises and more trips into Arua, and increasingly annoyed phone calls, and second, third, fourth and fifth chances to deliver, an air-lift, a trip to Kampala, and - and a little yellow box which didn't work at first because it was in love with XP and not Vista - we now have our very own internet access which we can carry around Uganda and use almost anywhere (at least that's what they say!). It's not fast (it's dial-up), but it's ours - and patience has won the day!

P.S. Thanks to our faithful blog readers who have continued steadfastly to search our blog for further postings. We'll reward your commitment in the weeks to come - little yellow box permitting!

P.P.S. This is the second version of this blog. I lost the first version when the computer crashed!

Learning the Art of Being Flexible

In Kampala - Realised this morning we hadn't blogged for a week. "The best laid plans.....", etc. That's the shape of life in Uganda. We were told early on that if you have a 'to do' list for the day, if you manage to get one-third completed that's good going.

Same is true of this computer and internet connection. So far it has taken about 15 minutes to get this far! Each letter takes at least 2 seconds to appear on screen. It's a metaphor for what we've been sorting out this past 7 days. As our new motor mechanic said to us this morning, it teaches you the art of patience or, as I would prefer to put it, it gives the fruit time and space to grow.

Still, we will update on other recent experiences when we have a better computer to work on. My patience still has a way to go!

Home, Sweet Home

The verandah of our home in Kuluva looks across a valley dotted with small settlements of round grass roofed mud houses. Beyond, the land rises to a tree-edged skyline marking the border of Uganda with DR Congo. Our vantage point means that we often have the benefit of breezes which blow up quite suddenly, cooling the midday heat and, quite often, heralding a thunderstorm - as today. In the evening the wind can be more of a nuisance, blowing the curtains such that they wrap themselves around the head of anyone unfortunate enough to be sitting on the chair next to the window. Clipping the curtains to the louvered glass windows with bulldog clips is quite effective at controlling them - and keeping our friends.

We are delighted with our little house which gradually we’re making more homely. We’ve decorated the walls with photographs of family and friends, batiks, maps, ‘welcome to your new home’ cards and a poster we’ve constructed of our link churches to remind us regularly to thank God for their support and to pray for them.

Some of the furniture was already at the house when we arrived, including the ‘easy’ chairs which leave marks on your bottom if you sit on them for too long. (We really must get some new foam for them – soon!) In addition we have bought a second-hand dresser and even had some ‘bespoke’ furniture we designed made for us in Arua – more about that in a later blog, perhaps.

We have pretty reliable electricity from a hydro scheme, running (cold) water (most of the time) and an inside toilet and ‘shower room’. Actually it’s a ‘pour’ room as showers consist of standing in a bowl and pouring water over oneself from another bowl using a redundant margarine container (Allan is thinking through some more advanced technology). But really, we do feel blessed. An AIM missionary couple we’ve got to know who live half-an-hour’s walk away have to depend on inadequate solar power, a pump for water which they have to collect and an outside toilet whose dimensions suggest it was designed for someone with extremely long legs (not to mention every other part of the anatomy!).

Loneliness isn’t something we experience here. Monkeys continue to visit and entertain us, whilst goats and hens are also prepared to climb the hill to greet us; cockerels too, but they come much too early. We have had a frog in the house, several geckos, a one-legged grasshopper (not hopping very well), and a few nights ago we were awoken by scrabbling noises in the ceiling. We can’t be certain of the provenance of the scrabbling, but the best suggestion to date is a galago (a sort of bush baby) – Anne thinks she got a sighting the other day.

Incidentally, we are still waging war on the ants, so Doom shares continue to be a good investment tip!

Close to the Margins - Update

Hear on the World Service this morning that the Ugandan Government estimates that as a result of the flood, around a quarter of the Ugandan population will be in need of extra food. An appeal has been made to the UN World Food Programme.

Another measure of the impact events like this can have close to the margins.

Close to the Margins

Shortly before leaving the UK for Uganda, significant areas of Britain experienced serious flooding. Thousands of householders found their homes inundated by floodwater, farmers’ crops were ruined, and we all woke up to the vulnerability of water and electricity supplies in the face of the forces of nature, even in the so-called developed world.

Arriving here in Uganda towards the end of the dry season, we were fully expecting to be basking in sunshine. Instead we were greeted by unseasonably heavy rain and thunderstorms, and discovered to our amazement that we needed to use our duvet to keep warm in bed at night. We’d really only included the duvet in our air freight (which, incidentally, all arrived intact) to provide packing for more vulnerable items of luggage.

In fact, apart from making some of the roads extremely muddy, the weather hasn’t been so bad here in the Arua district. But over the past few weeks much of Africa, including northern and eastern Uganda, has experienced its heaviest rain for a generation. The consequences have been devastating. Mud and wattle huts have collapsed in the face of the torrential waters making over 50,000 people homeless. Twenty-five districts have been cut off from the rest of the country, and the crops that haven’t been washed away are now rotting in gardens. More than 47 people have died and a state of emergency has been declared in the flooded regions.

The consequences of flooding in Britain are terrible for those involved, but when you live so close to the margins, as many do in Uganda, the consequences are so much worse; no clean water to drink (no bowsers here); the growing danger of water-borne diseases threatening the hungry and homeless; no insurance and no social security.

But the challenges go wider than that. In south west Congo there has been an outbreak of the deadly ebola virus. We are all hoping and praying that it will be contained and limited, but naturally there is deep anxiety in neighbouring south-east Uganda. Closer to home, following an outbreak earlier in the year, there has been a further outbreak of meningitis in the Arua district, a cause of great concern at the hospital here at Kuluva where there has been at least one fatality so far. Back in the UK, such an outbreak would be accompanied by the vaccination of vulnerable groups, but here, vaccination is not routinely available, even to student nurses working in the hospital.

In our living and our praying don’t let us forget the millions of people who constantly live their lives ‘close to the margins’.

An Appointment with the Nurses Council

To work as a nurse tutor in Uganda you must register with the Nurses Council. Fair enough. Shouldn’t be a problem, I thought. I have more years than I care to mention of experience working in nurse education, pieces of paper from various universities, proof of my UK registration, and a recommendation from Kuluva School of Enrolled Comprehensive Nursing where I am expecting to work.

The necessary documentation duly delivered whilst in Kampala, we departed for Arua, 250 miles to the north. After all, nothing happens quickly in Africa.
But one week later, a phonecall. ‘You have an interview with the Nurses Council in Kampala. In two days time’ Ridiculous – £100 return by air, and the bus takes too long. But wise Ugandans said I should jump when they said jump.

Arrived in Kampala, the interview was not in two days time, but in three. They would need $10 to cover the cost of the interview – in dollars, not local currency. The Nurses Council had no physical address. No taxi driver was likely to be able to find it ……. The Uganda Protestant Medical Bureau arranged me a driver, eventually.

Arriving at the Council at 10am, none of the interviewing panel (how many were there to be??) had yet arrived. Ten or so other candidates gradually arrived. Those (most) who didn’t know about the $10 fee, had to go back into Kampala and change Ugandan shillings into US dollars – a traffic-laden journey that took about an hour. Benefiting from their unpreparedness, I was ushered into the first interview. The secretary indicated I should go outside and in again at the next door. She went through a connecting internal door. This is Uganda!

Seated behind a vast desk, I dimly saw the chairwoman of the panel at the far end of the room, the secretary at her left. One other member of the panel arrived halfway through my interview. They noted that I had failed to provide a transcript of the subjects I had studied in my initial nurse training (completed 1975). I was congratulated on my achievements since. It was ‘beautiful’ that I was coming to Uganda for three years. However, I must complete one month’s observation at a hospital in Kampala before being fully registered. Argument on my part that I could do this in Arua was met with passive resistance.

My British pride a little wounded, I reminded myself that I am a guest in a country that may seem to be slow and inefficient, but does have some appropriate regulation of nursing, with which I need to comply.

Travel Instructions

“If you want to vomit please make use of a newspaper or bag which we can provide. Please do not remain quiet if you want to relieve yourselves. We can help you. Animals are not permitted on the bus, so when we get to Kigumba chickens cannot be brought on board, and you are not allowed to buy fish at Pachwach.

Our lives are given to us so that we can glorify God, and so would someone offer to pray for travelling mercies?”

It was a heartfelt, practical and altogether sincere start to our journey with the excellent GaaGaa Bus Company, from Kampala to Arua. The journey is about 250 miles, but whilst the final stretch is on well-made and well-marked roads, the first part is seriously pot-holed, bone-shaking and, if you’re that way inclined, vomit-inducing. Nevertheless, 6¼ hours later at 12.45 pm, our prayers answered - God is faithful - we were safely off-loaded at Kuluva, together with five of our six items of luggage where we were met by Paul, the the Kuluva School of Nursing driver. Two of our three cases were coated with a slightly damp white fluid which had clearly oozed from some companion baggage. We still don’t know what it is, but the cases now look truly well-travelled and I think that, in time, we could become quite fond of their unique markings. It’ll certainly make them more identifiable on airport carousels and ensure that no-one wants to steal them.

Kuluva Hospital is 9km outside Arua, and we have been given a little 2-bedroom house where we’ll be living for the next three years. Wildlife is in evidence, with Tantalus Monkeys to entertain us on our veranda, stunningly beautiful butterflies, but all accompanied by a constant battle against armies of ants which besiege the house. We are waging war on them with Doom Fast-Kill Insect Killer. At present we seem to be winning, but somehow I doubt whether we will in the long run!

“Look to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise!” (Proverbs 6.6)

Farewell Kampala (2)

Travelling is one of the most fascinating and stimulating aspects of living in a foreign country, and Uganda doesn’t disappoint. The GaaGaa Bus Company terminus in Kampala is located on the opposite side of the road to the lorry ‘park’ where lorries are loaded for journeys east to Kenya, north to Sudan as well as through the length and breadth of Uganda. At 5.00 pm, the atmosphere there is thick with dust, diesel and petrol fumes. Chaos reigns. On the roadside are piled boxes of every shape and size, crates of bottles, hundreds of rolled up foam mattresses, steel rods for reinforced concrete, sacks bulging with goodness-knows what, and much other totally unidentifiable baggage.

Soon after 5.30 pm our 3 cardboard boxes and 3 cases were taking their full and unscripted part in the chaos - 5,000Ush* for the boxes and 8,000Ush for each of the cases to go on the bus with us the following morning. But the three air-freight barrels wouldn’t fit into the bus so, over the road into the melee of the lorry park. Richard, our Ugandan transport advisor negotiated the lorry driver down from 100,000Ush for each barrel to 200,000Ush the lot. Allan was outraged ‘It’s only 20,000Ush for a bus to carry me to Arua!’ He managed to negotiate down to 120,000Ush for all 3 barrels. It felt like a bit of a triumph, but it’s salutary to discover a barrel is worth 6x more than you are! But the most important issue of all – will they actually get to their rightful destination?

*about £1.50

'Are You Ready For CHOGM?' - Farewell Kampala

As soon as you leave the airport at Entebbe you are greeted every few hundred yards by a face smiling down on you from a poster with the caption 'I'm ready for CHOGM'. At first we wondered whether this was a word in the Lugandan language, but soon realised that it was part of Kampala's preparations for the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting here in November.

In anticipation of CHOGM new hotels are being built and roads improved - and believe me, they need it. Driving through Kampala, you are soon aware that the road system and traffic jams are a major issue. Road signs are few and far between, road markings are even more scarce, and who has the right of way in any given situation is an enigma.

To avoid a traffic jam involves venturing on to the back streets, introducing a new hazard - a legion of potholes. Sometimes these can be avoided, but then only by driving on the wrong side of the road. Often you can't. If it's been raining potholes become invisible or of indeterminate depth, so you mustn't be too possessive about your exhaust pipe. 'Be prepared' is the watchword on Kampala's roads as, indeed, it is for CHOGM. The Queen will doubtless find her way pothole-free when she comes, but doubtless too, 99% of the potholes will remain. I think that maybe there's a parable about our Christian lives here somewhere.

Tomorrow morning we leave Kampala on the 6.30 bus, together with all our freight and luggage. Finally in Arua we will have to sort out internet access, so this might be the last blog for a while.

A Cultural Incident

We've a lovely en-suite room at the Guest House including a patio and, about 10 metres away, a terraced garden with a large area of grass.

Yesterday evening we had a special treat – a wedding reception in the garden. Adorned with an amazing array of flowers which would have been the envy of any wedding I’ve taken, the reception was a real spectacle. Whilst some ceremony was unfamiliar to us, it also included the usual beautifully dressed guests, food, speeches, cake and............music. The bass response of the speakers was exceptional, and much of the music hit the resonant frequency of our doorframe perfectly! Surprisingly it was a good experience and by 11.00 pm the clearing-up was completed. And so to bed.

In addition to the wonderful view, our room (44) also has a connecting door to the adjacent room (43). On several occasions this week new occupants of Room 43 have tried with some determination to get into our room, but fortunately the bolt is on our side! But the door is not the most substantial, which ensures that, with a little imagination, the occupants of both rooms can be fully conversant with what’s going on next door.

Having dropped off to sleep after the wedding, we were both awoken around 1.45 am by the sound of zips being zipped, locks being unlocked and then locked again, doors opening and closing. It was a bit like the arrival of Marley’s Ghost, but the coughing and the dim sound of a TV assured us that this was not so. It was our neighbour arriving in rather late. By about 2.45 am things had fallen quiet again, save for the continuing sound of the TV and a semi-rhythmic, mezzo-forte, snoring. Allan reached for his ear-plugs - and so to sleep, again.

Around 5.30 am, before the call to prayer from the local mosque, Anne (who had no ear-plugs) started awake with the loud blowing of a nose next door, followed by animated African conversation between a group of men who seemed to have no conception of what sotto voce might mean. By 6.00 am – even with ear-plugs, Allan too had woken up. Finally, our neighbour’s visitors left, and the TV (tuned to a Christian channel) was turned up forte, presumably to enable our neighbour to hear it whilst continuing to blow his nose at regular intervals. One of the songs being sung was ‘Thank you Jesus’, which wasn’t entirely the sentiment Anne and I were feeling. Complete silence descended some half-hour later as our neighbour left his room.

Blessed sleep embraced us both again, until at 7.30, we were both woken up again with a loud knocking on our patio door – our laundry was being returned.

A few hours earlier we had been reading Craig Storti’s book The Art of Crossing Cultures. In it he talks about ‘cultural incidents’ arising out of the fact that we expect other people to behave like we do, but they don’t. Our conclusion? Last night was a gift from God and a ‘cultural incident’ to reflect on. But we’re still tired.

What's your phone number?

Day 5 in Uganda. Landed at Entebbe in torrential rain on Saturday, the plane behaving more a speedboat than an aircraft. Then here to Namirembe Guest House in Kampala (Allan outside our room pictured above).

Since then we’ve had a productive few days, and met numerous interesting and useful people (including good friends from CMS we’d met in training) who all asked us for our ‘phone number. Sadly couldn’t oblige with Ugandan numbers. So we’ve bought new mobile phones (haven’t had a new one for 4 years anyway). Real excitement! But still learning how to use advanced technology.

Discovered we’d only been let into Uganda for 1 month despite having a 3 month visa. But a really helpful man at the Church of Uganda Provincial Office is sorting out the bureaucracy for us. Still might involve a delay, but we’re hoping to clarify the next move when we meet Bishop Joel this afternoon.

Air freight currently in transit from Amsterdam to Entebbe - should arrive tomorrow. Thence to a friend’s garage awaiting the next move.

We’re both well, glad to be here and excited about what God has got in store for us.

Incidentally, weather’s improved from Saturday.

All Packed And Ready to Go!?

It all started with an e-mail to CMS and a walk down Waterloo Road - which all seems a very long time ago. Two and a half years on, 4 cases packed, airfreight somewhere near Heathrow and the taxi's coming in 4 hours. Scary and exciting all at the same time - but at least we think we know where we're going (unlike Abraham).

Awoke to the postman with malaria test kits (last minute delivery), the builder arriving to do some work on the outside of the house (given instructions by Allan in pyjamas and dressing gown at the front of the house - at just after 8.00 am!). Then Anne was greeted with water pouring through the kitchen ceiling whilst Jo was having a shower. Diagnosis not good, but manageable, we hope.

Off to the pub soon for a last lunch (with beer!) with Jo (who else when there's free beer around!?) who's getting her exam results as we write. We hope it will be a happy lunch. Said goodbye to Ben and Bethan a couple of weeks ago - picture from last family weekend above (Bethan was taking the picture - a good lass). Next posting from Uganda, we hope.

Just a week before we leave for Uganda. The last few days have been spent getting the barrels packed for our 250 kgs airfreight (picture shows Anne relaxing on the barrels after Allan had finished packing them). They were collected 3 days ago.

We've also been finishing off some decoration in our house here in Leicester - so that all is left in good order here - and trying to sell the car. No takers yet, but we'll see what happens over the weekend.

The prospect of leaving here for Arua still seems a bit unreal, but after a few jitters last week, we're now both feeling much more excited about what lies ahead. We've been so encouraged over the past few days with e-mails and cards from friends and link churches, and are very conscious of their prayers.

Just a few things left to organise before we go, but I think we're less bothered now about whether we get them done or not. Bishop Joel e-mailed this week and reminded us that it's the Holy Spirit we must depend on. Perhaps we're beginning to learn the lesson.

Resurrecting the blog

Been sleeping for a while - other things to do. But we're waking up again to learn how to do this properly before we go away.

Lots of water under many bridges since our last posting - Anne and Allan have both left their day jobs to, first, move from Doncaster to Leicester, then to begin training in preparation to go to Arua.

Anne - Now competent (maybe) in all sorts of weird and wonderful tropical diseases, ready for the fray in Africa, after a three month course in Liverpool. How well it has prepared me for what I shall be doing only time will tell.
Allan - African Studies and anthropology were on the menu at All Nations for me when I spent 10 weeks until end June. Another useful addition to my skills was croquet which filled a number of sun-filled hours and will be a useful adjunct to my toolbox for Arua.

Our Link Church visits are almost complete, only two to go including our home church in Leicester. Then we're all set to leave the UK on 17th August, first to Arua for a couple of weeks before spending a term in Nairobi at Carlile College.

If you want more details of the past few months, leave us a message and we'll contact you.

Photo

The photo below is us. It went there by mistake - but at least you can see what we look like (sorry about that!)

Blagging at Blogging

This is our first attempt at a blog and will look a bit peculiar until we've sorted it out.
We're starting a blog because we're going to live and work as CMS Mission Partners in Uganda starting this year, and we're told this will be a great way to keep in touch with our friends, supporters and anyone else who happens upon this site. This way everyone can find out what we're up to, see photos (if we can work out how to do it!) and send messages to us.
Our first official meeting with supporters is coming up this week in West Yorkshire at a Church and Primary School in Ledsham. We're looking forward to meeting the children at the school and some of the folk from the church on Wednesday.
So - we're learning how to blog - please be patient with us.