The Big Six-O

One big advantage of living in Uganda is being able to do exotic things on big birthdays. This year took us to Eastern Uganda for my Big Six-0 and to the highest mountains we have yet seen in the country, with Mount Elgon, its highest peak, at 4165 metres. Our destination was Sipi Falls, a modest 1,800 metres above sea level, but high enough to be free of mosquitoes and cool enough to need blankets at night – a real treat.

We were staying at Lacam Lodge, which prides itself in being electricity-free, using gas for cooking and kerosene lamps to light the restaurant and bandas at night. Another feature was the toilets.

Being built on solid rock, digging ‘long-drop’ toilets is impossible, so instead the Lodge provides bucket loos. These look like ordinary toilets, but instead of a flush guests are provided with liberal quantities of sawdust to sprinkle as appropriate. It was ideal, and 100% effective in rendering the toilet odour-free. Every couple of hours one of the staff would enter the toilet via a back door to empty, clean and return the bucket (presumably ensuring the toilet was not in use at the time). This was a job we decided not to apply for, but to show our gratitude, left a healthy tip under the loo seat.

During our stay in Sipi, we were fascinated to be met by several groups of young people jogging and dancing their way along the road, singing, shouting and blowing whistles. We enquired of our local guide, Fred, what this meant and he told us with some pride that they were preparing for circumcision rites. He explained that these usually happen in the month of December in even numbered years. We thought of little babies, but no. Here, in the home of the Bagisu and Sabini tribes, circumcision is carried out on males, generally, between the ages of 16 and 26!

The ritual marks the transition into true manhood and qualifies the initiate to marry and take positions of leadership in the community. Initiates nominate themselves for the ritual in the previous May or June, which apparently gives them time to prepare for the event. I wondered how you could prepare for such an event. Circumcision is performed, with no anaesthetic, in public before family and friends, and even tourists can attend – although these tourists didn’t. Subsequently we noticed a number of young men wearing skirts – they no longer have to prove their manhood. Fred confirmed what we thought, again with great pride. He had been circumcised in his teens. Better to look back on than to look forward to, I thought.

That aside, Sipi Falls is a beautiful spot. There are four main falls, the last and longest of which provides a magnificent setting for Lacam Lodge. From our banda we could both see and hear the long and extraordinarily elegant cascade plunging 100 metres into the river below. It was a glorious view looking down into the valley and the plains beyond, towards the north-west and our home in Arua some 600 km distant.

On my birthday itself Fred took us along the edge of the ridge above the falls, and then steeply down into the valley itself. The slope was precipitous, involving some rather hairy walking/climbing, including an almost vertical ladder down part of the rock face, but it gave us great views of Lacam Lodge across the valley, and then the Falls themselves. As we descended, our daughter, Jo, rang to wish me a happy birthday and I received a birthday text message from friends in Doncaster, UK – a lightly surreal but delightful reminder of home.

At the foot of the Falls, out of the sunshine, it was very wet, muddy, slippery, and a little scary., but as we ascended back out of the valley into the sunshine again, we encountered a girl and young boy. Both were carrying great loads of bananas on their heads from the banana groves growing on the valley side. Being unable to balance anything much on our heads we were much impressed by their amazing ability to scale rock-face ladders with such a burden.

We stopped to talk to them as they, and we, rested on the way. The girl’s name was Emma. “It means ‘God is with us,’” she explained. “Of course, from Emmanuel,” I said, “Jesus’ name.” “You’re a Christian!” she responded with a bright smile, and told us she was a singer in her local church. She then sang us a song about heaven and the truth that if we trust in Jesus we will all be there together one day – ‘every nation, tribe, people and language’.

Our best wishes for a very happy Christmas and joy-filled New Year.

Health care delivery on the edge

Health care in rural Uganda is a million miles away from anything you might imagine if you have been brought up in UK since 1948. Yes, the NHS has plenty of faults and will never have enough resources, but it has an impressive way of swinging into action when anything life-threatening occurs.

Not so in Uganda. There are hospitals, yes, but they rarely have many, if any, doctors in them, and the nursing staff can be hard to find. When you do find them they may not be very quick to respond to patients’ needs, and the care is all done by ‘attendants’ – long-suffering relatives who volunteer to feed, wash, toilet and accompany the patient through 24 hours, sleeping on a mat beside the bed. Such is the tradition of extended family responsibility here.
There is nothing equivalent to a GP, unless you count the private medical practitioners who keep shop in the town and charge high prices for dubious investigations and treatments. And then there are the witchdoctors of course......

But on the ground in the rural areas are the health centres. These small buildings, often in remote locations in the bush, are the mainstay of healthcare for most. Of the five health centres run by the Church of Uganda in this Diocese, none has running water or mains electricity. A small solar panel might run a satellite phone and emergency lighting. Their equipment is old and battered, and they don’t have nearly enough of anything. They are staffed by a couple of nurses, midwives and nursing assistants, with perhaps a laboratory technician, a guard/groundsman and a cleaner. The staff live in at the centre in grass thatched houses like those of the community around. They provide out-patient consultations for everything from malaria to worms, from attempted suicide to HIV testing. They cater for a range of maternal and child health services including deliveries, family planning and immunizations. Some include in-patient facilities, and even those that don’t will put a mattress on the floor to keep a dehydrated cholera case under observation until he or she is well enough to move. None has a doctor or clinical officer.

Visiting Kei health centre for a meeting with staff and community members, I was reminded of the constraints under which they work. Kei is the most remote of the five health centres I help to supervise, but it is also one of the biggest and busiest. It serves an area of rural poverty very close to the Sudan border in the far north of the Diocese, and is reached by a terrible road that is regularly impassable in the rainy season. The health centre, like the region it serves, has seen its share of disturbance in recent years. But at present it is well run by Mary, a nurse In-charge who has a sweet but strong character, and is a very committed Christian.

After the meeting, while we were drinking tea and eating cassava and biscuits, Mary approached me to ask if we could take a seriously ill patient to the nearest government hospital on our way home. There are no ambulances here. She wanted to refer him because he had been an in-patient at Kei for two weeks, was deteriorating, and she felt he needed more specialist care. He has AIDS, and had a serious infection in one leg that was causing much swelling and pain. There were already five of us squashed in a ‘double cabin’ pick-up, which left only the open back of the truck available. But that was what was wanted. The staff and relatives spread blankets on the floor of the pick-up, then lifted the thin, frail man onto the back. One of his sons sat upright against the cab, cradling his father’s head on his lap so that the patient was as comfortable as possible on the rough road. We set off for the 20km journey with five of the family in attendance, together with bedding, cooking pots and personal belongings.

It wasn’t an ambulance journey I would have chosen for myself, but it was the only one available and the family were grateful. We left them at the hospital in Yumbe – the patient might get some medical attention there, eventually, but I doubt he will receive as much care and concern as he did whilst at Kei.

Prayer Mountain

A visit to the Murchison Falls just a week ago saw them at their most dramatic. Now, at the end of the rainy season, the Victoria Nile, wide and languid for much of its course, was full as the white water cascaded towards the narrow cleft in the rocks before plunging 140 feet to the river below and on to Lake Albert. In the brilliant sunshine it was truly awesome with clouds of spray and rainbows in profusion.

That experience was in marked contrast to aggressive and objectionable baboons, one of which decided to leap through the open window of our Land Cruiser whilst we were waiting for the ferry at Paraa. No one was in the car at the time but the intruder was chased out empty handed, and without causing any damage.

Some 10 minutes later, however, we managed to suffer a 3 inch gash in our tyre as a result of a torn piece of metal on the ramp on to the ferry. But even that had its upside as three South African employees of British American Tobacco who were making the same crossing executed an impressive Formula One style wheel change, completing the whole operation in the time it took to cross the river – around 7 minutes! The Parable of the Good Samaritan came to mind!

We had gone to Murchison Park with Emma and Pete, and Laura, British expatriate doctors and a midwife, also living and working at Kuluva Hospital. It was a brief weekend’s break from work, and en route to Murchison Park we decided to visit the Nebbi Prayer Mountain some 20 km beyond the town of the same name. We had heard a great deal about the Prayer Mountain as a place to pray, praise, and find peace and space to gain a renewed and God-centred perspective on life.

The Prayer Mountain is a Retreat Centre built on the Korean pattern and belonging to Nebbi Diocese, Madi/West Nile’s southern neighbour. The foundation stone on the main chapel was laid in 1996 and the whole site was funded and built by a retired Korean Business Executive at a time when the present Archbishop of Uganda, Henry Orombi, was Bishop of Nebbi.

Prayer Mountain is set in a stunningly beautiful countryside, close to the Congo border, and is made up of nine Prayer Points marked by small stone ‘chapels’ located at various places on the mountainside. Each Prayer Point has its own unique and powerfully symbolic design, giving a particular focus which individuals can use to direct their prayer.

The focuses for prayer reflect a global concern, but naturally with a particular emphasis on the needs of Africa. There is also an emphasis on young people, families, and the worldwide need for revival and spiritual renewal. Different arrangements and numbers of windows feature strongly in the design of the small Prayer Points buildings symbolising, amongst other things, the 10 Commandments, the 9 Fruits of the Spirit, the 66 Books of the Bible, the 12 disciples, and so on. Through the windows you can see out to the hills beyond in every direction which gives everything a sense of space, freedom. But the often very strenuous walks between the various Prayer Points prevent any possibility of prayer becoming simply a form of self-indulgence and escapism. Prayer involves work.

On this occasion, ours was simply a fleeting visit; an opportunity to visit somewhere of which we had heard but had never visited. Places to stop and reflect, places to retreat to in order to regroup and move forward again, are few and far between in NW Uganda. Life is full of people and busy-ness, although often not very productive. But even in our brief time at Prayer Mountain we were able to gain some new insights into our work here. Perhaps especially that, whilst living in Uganda, God has not simply called us to work for him with and alongside others. He also wants to work with us and to continue his work of transformation in us.

Murchison Falls has always had the capacity to impress with its power and grandeur, and Prayer Mountain is also about power - the power to transform and change individuals, and so the world. It is just 90 minutes from Kuluva, and God-willing we will return to Prayer Mountain to be empowered for the work God has sent us here to do, and to be transformed a little more ourselves.

Hey Jude.....

We met Jude a couple of months ago. He popped into our office at Mvara one morning, “just to say hello”, but he was also very keen that we should visit him at his school just over the way from our office.

Jude, I guess, is in his early 40s, but quite youthful in appearance and manner, as seems to be the case with many Ugandans. He is a teacher, and by all accounts a good one; indeed, a few years ago he won an award as the Best Teacher in Uganda. Drama and music are passions for him, and over the years he has been responsible for a number of singing and dance groups which have performed at weddings and other events in the area. But his particular specialism is as a teacher of special needs students.

It was about three weeks later that we visited Jude in his classroom/workshop. We met some of his students, one of whom who had no use of his hands, played the odungu with his feet! Unusually for a Ugandan classroom, the walls were adorned with posters, many concerned with health issues, and it was full of all sorts of equipment, much of which looked as though it had come out of the ark. In particular, there were many broken Braille machines. Jude explained they were all second-hand and waiting for him to repair them. He took in other pieces of equipment from other institutions in Arua for repair and used the additional income to supplement his rather small government teacher’s salary.

But there were other things Jude wanted to share with us. Resources for Special Needs Education are as scarce, if not more so, than other resources in Uganda. But Jude is not one to be put off, and with some pride he produced some of his own creations – modifications of the abacus and other calculating machines for use by visually impaired students, and many other ideas to aid the learning and mobility of his students.

One piece he was particularly proud of was a model solar system with an assortment of spherical objects attached at varying distances by wires to a central spindle. These rotated around a light bulb suspended in the middle of them, and representing the Sun. The model was driven by battery power and he used it to teach the principles of planetary motion, seasons, and so on to students with different special educational needs – they are all kept together in one group. It was remarkably inventive and did actually work.

Talking to Jude, he had a real passion for his work and at one time had been employed as a lecturer in SEN at the Teacher Training College next door to the school. Despite having worked there for some time, he was bitterly disappointed when told he could no longer teach there because he didn’t have the required qualifications. If he wanted to teach there again he would have to go and gain further certificates.

Sadly, the educational system here in Uganda, has hardly heard of part-time or distance learning, and the only way you can gain an academic qualification is by becoming a full-time student. This is a very expensive option and taking professionals out of the workplace for a number of years whilst they study – not the best economic option either for the student or the workplace – although I suppose it’s not so bad for the training institution!

Jude clearly hopes we can help him in some way – and he probably deserves help – but so do so many other people here. That’s one of the challenges it’s hard to come to terms with.

Another is, how to make sense of the fact that since Jude lost his job at the Teacher Training College, they now have no one to teach about Special Educational Needs.

A Week In The Life Of......... (Part 2)

True to his word, during the Sunday I spent in Omoo (see A week in the life of.....) Robert planned with me a programme for my week ‘shadowing’ him in his work. He was concerned that I should be able to visit each of the eight churches in Mingoro Parish and get to know something about the challenges they face.

Robert and his family face their own personal challenges. He is married to a teacher and was ordained just three years ago. They have two sons, the eldest of whom (7-year old Godwin) has been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. This would be hard for any family, but for Robert it also involves travelling 500 km to Kampala for treatment and a significant bill once he gets there. On top of the 25,000 UGX fare to get to Kampala, he has been told the treatment will cost around 1,200,000 UGX. Robert gets paid just 50,000 UGX per month (c.£16), but earns some more by growing onions, ground nuts and cassava. It’s a hard life for him, not least because this means he often starts the day at 6.00 am with 3 hours of digging. But he remains amazingly cheerful and leads a busy life running a large parish of eight churches.

One major issue in Uganda is the issue of land rights. In a country where most of the title to land is hereditary and not formally established, land without title deeds can be very vulnerable. This applies as much to churches as to private individuals and several of the churches in Robert’s care have neighbours who are trying to encroach on their land. One church I visited has a major project growing thousands of eucalyptus tree seedlings which they will eventually plant out as boundary markers.

This project has a further benefit as well. Eucalyptus trees are very fast growing, and the timber will in a short time provide a good source of income for the church. Some of the churches in Robert’s parish are also growing other ideas to develop the local community or generate some badly needed income. These include building technical schools, dispensaries, or establishing bee and honey projects. It’s a far cry from parish life in Britain.

Of course day-to-day parish life also continues amidst these other activities. Coming from Britain I have been used to being able to manage my diary. Weddings, for example, are arranged often years ahead. But in particular it is unusual not to have several days’ notice of a funeral. Here, however, things are very different.

The Tuesday programme for my visit to Mingoro Parish had read: Visit of Church of Uganda Kubo – Visitation of the sick Kerekere. Robert had warned me on Monday that the programme would have to be extended because a 12-year old girl had died and her funeral had been arranged for Tuesday afternoon. Arriving at Omoo on Tuesday morning, however, I discovered that a man had died there suddenly on Monday evening, and his funeral was also taking place on Tuesday afternoon – well within 24 hours of the death (and without the body ever having been seen by a doctor).

Robert was very glad to have me around that day because my car would make his life a whole lot easier than having to travel the heavily rutted roads on his bicycle. We travelled first to Kubo to visit the church to collect a Church Teacher and to have a meal. It was there I discovered I had a flat tyre and had to change the wheel in the rain – with a number of fascinated spectators who had never seen anything like this before. We then proceeded to Kerekere for a sick communion (followed by a small meal), before driving to a village some distance away for the first funeral (preceded by a meal of enya and beans, and concluded by a similar meal), before finally returning to Omoo for the second funeral (also accompanied by food).

These were the first funerals I had attended, and sadly I forgot to take my camera. I had been assured there would be no problem taking photographs. But at least I was able to concentrate on what was going on – the open coffin for the young girl (no coffin at all for the man), the relatives speaking about the deceased, the sermon, the procession to the graveside in the village near the home of the deceased, the burial and the scattering of petals. I declined Robert’s offer the day before that I should preach at the girl’s funeral, but this didn’t stop him asking me to say a few words at each of the funerals, and to pray for the deceased man’s wives and family at the second.

I left Omoo as darkness was falling.

My week with Robert was interrupted and we weren’t able to complete all Robert had planned. But it was concluded by a very joyful wedding at Olevu Parish accompanied by two udungu bands and children’s choirs. I was able to take a full part in the service and even able to eat the meal preceding it. Unfortunately I had a chest infection for most of the week but was able to use this as a good reason to avoid the second meal of enya, meat, rice, beans and cabbage.

PS. Two days ago Robert appeared at my office in Mvara. Three of the churches in his parish had complained. Because of the interrupted programme I hadn’t been to visit them. Robert is going to Kampala next week but when he returns we will resume where we left off. I look forward to that and think that Mingoro Parish, its Pastor and Church Teachers will be a useful place to develop some of my ideas about ministry in the future.

Water, water.........not necessarily everywhere

Thunderstorms here usually seem to happen in the middle of the night heralding a period of sleeplessness maintained by crashing thunder and torrential rain. Today it waited until 6.30 when we awoke to the sound of distant thunder, and the skies which had promised dawn, darkening again as heavy spots of rain began to fall. Soon the heavens were open, with forks of lightning striking terrifyingly close to our house. The claps of thunder were awesome.

Sheltering in the porch we found our local mat and basket maker. He was delighted to be offered a cup of tea, a banana and refuge from the storm. We hope he also enjoyed Richard Strauss’s Alpine Symphony which we were playing in celebration of the thunder storm.

Anne and I arrived in Uganda last year in this same season of dramatic thunder storms and heavy rain. But the irony today is that, whilst we are experiencing frequent deluges, the UN is warning of drought in the Horn of Africa, including Karamoja in NE Uganda.

Here in Africa, water is king. Of course, that is true everywhere, but here it is much more obvious. Too much water, as in West Nile at the moment, and crops are ruined; too little, as in Karamoja, and the land remains arid and unproductive - both result in hunger and/or increased food costs.

Then there is the question of water quality. Water spells the difference between sickness and health, life and death. Here in NW Uganda many people still have to walk to the local river or spring to collect water where quality is far from certain. A spring or borehole protected by a concrete enclosure is best, but even this can be a source of disease. The college at Ringili has its own protected borehole, but there have been suspicions that this water-source may be responsible for cases of typhoid.

In Kuluva we are just over the hill from Ringili. Here we are blessed with a ready supply of water pumped from the hospital borehole to a tank in our house. Sometimes, though, even this runs out. Then we have to rely on 25 litre jerry cans. Lucy is a great asset as she transports these heavy yellow cans on her head from an alternative borehole on the site.

Having to decant water from jerry cans for every use is very tiring and annoying. It makes you think twice about having a shower (or a ‘pour’ as it actually is), or even flushing the loo. Water shortages can go on for days, and it is a great cause for celebration when we hear water beginning to pour into the tank in our roof once again. The only downside to this is that it tends to start in the middle of the night and wakes us up. It’s a bit like a thunder storm and torrential rain really.

We’ll see what the next 24 hours has in store for us.

A Week In The Life Of.........

It was about 7.45 am on Saturday morning when my phone rang. Normally we set the alarm for 6.45 but on Saturday Anne and I can have a lie-in. Sometimes one of us will get up to make a cup of tea, but otherwise we enjoy the chance to come to slowly - as slowly as possible. The sound of the phone was unwelcome. Who would ring at this time on a Saturday morning? I contemplated ignoring it, but reluctantly I negotiated the mosquito net to retrieve my phone from the living room. I’d left my glasses in the bedroom, so with some difficulty focussed on the screen to identify my anti-social caller – Robert Arua 2, it said.

I’d met Robert in December on our tour of the archdeaconries. He was a young pastor in a rural parish in the Arua Archdeaconry and a tutor at the Archdeaconry Training Centre. Robert had impressed both Anne and myself as a bright, enthusiastic and thoughtful pastor, so when someone suggested I should spend some time ‘shadowing’ a pastor in his parish for a few days, Robert came to mind and when I approached him he readily agreed. But that had been in May, four months before this phone call.

I answered the phone and heard a cheerful African voice at the other end. “Hello. I’ll meet you at Jaiko at 9.30 tomorrow morning. There’s a communion service at Omoo church at 11.00 and we’ll sort out the programme from there. Sorry not to be in touch earlier. I’ve been in Kampala. By the way, you are preaching.” My brain was only half in gear, but in the dim recesses of my memory I recalled my conversation with Robert and our agreement to get together at the end of August.

At 7.45 that Saturday morning I regretted the arrangement, but in the event, the week that followed was an experience I shall not quickly forget.

I met Robert at the Arua Archdeaconry HQ at Jaiko the following morning, and drove some 8 km along one of the worst roads I've encountered in Uganda, finally arriving at Omoo, one of the eight churches which make up Robert’s parish of Mingoro. Each church is in the charge of a Lay Reader, and this Sunday it was Omoo’s turn to have their pastor present to lead a communion service.

It transpired that the whole parish had been looking forward to my arrival because Robert had announced that I was coming some three months earlier. All eight Readers with their Churchwardens and other senior laity were present, and before the service began – summoned by the beating of a drum – we met together in a rondavel for a meal of beans, meat, rice, enya, a boiled egg and sweet tea.

With the exception of my sermon, the service was conducted entirely in Lugbara (the local language), but one of the chief wardens – a former policeman – had good English and was able to translate for me. Robert translated my sermon to the congregation which had steadily grown in number from about 50 to 250 during the first part of the service. Members of the congregation have to travel considerable distances by foot or bicycle to get to the church, so it’s not too surprising if they’re not all there at the beginning

I sat down after the sermon, to some extent relieved that my rather hastily-prepared offering was over. But towards the end of the service (about two hours later), I was surprised to be asked if I had another message for the church.......Ugandan Christians seem to have an insatiable appetite for listening to speakers and sermons, with absolutely no time limit on worship.

At about 2.00 pm the service finally ended and I was steered back to the little rondavel (via a large group of children from the service who wanted their photograph taken) for yet another meal of beans, meat, rice, enya, a boiled egg and sweet tea accompanied by much good humoured conversation in a mixture of Lugbara and English.

Towards the end of the meal I could hear people again gathering and the sound of drumming and singing coming from the church about 100 yards away. It was the start of the Fellowship Meeting. We made our way back to the church and took our places at the front. Singing and dancing were in full swing. From time to time the singing would give way to one of the church leaders speaking (or shouting) to the congregation. This would then be interrupted some few minutes later by someone else starting to sing – and more dancing into which one was propelled, like it or not. And at the end I was invited to come and deliver another message to the church.........

I left Omoo at around 5.30 pm, arriving home with much to think about and wondering what else the week might hold.

Laceys (not) in Arua

Back home now after our holiday in UK we have been received with enthusiastic welcomes by so many of our friends and colleagues at Kuluva Hospital, the Diocesan HQ in Mvara and staff at Ringili. It has been hugely encouraging, and we are glad to be able to settle down for the next two years in what we are pleased to be able to call home.

Of course, we do have another home which we were able to enjoy during our holiday. It was so good to see our little house in Leicester again, and to be able to visit family and friends all over the UK. All in all we can look back on a busy, but very successful and enjoyable trip.

It began with a trip to Sheffield with Jo, where we stayed with our son, Ben and daughter-in-law, Bethan in their new home. Joining them in a cold and windy walk up Mam Tor reminded us of one of the things we missed about Britain. We were reminded of other things too as we, first, joined with the congregation accompanied by the splendid organ in Sheffield Cathedral, spiritedly singing “And can it be”, and later visited The Strines Inn (real ale!) in Derbyshire.

St Mary’s, Andover was a late link church for us before we came to Uganda, so we took the opportunity of a trip to the West Country for a short holiday in Exeter and Lynmouth to visit them en route. It was good to be able to put some faces to names and to have a chance to thank them for their support of us and the ATC Library Project in Madi/West Nile. We also managed to sell the Vicar some stoles made by one of the pastors at Ringili – anyone else interested in buying some? They’re excellent value and much cheaper than anything you’ll find in the UK!

We had a great welcome in our home church at St Denys in Leicester. It was wonderful to be made to feel so much at home there, after all we’d only had a few weeks at the church before we left for Uganda. We were encouraged by their enthusiasm and prayers for us, and their desire to establish a link with our home church here in Kuluva Parish.

London next, staying with Allan's brother David and his wife Muriel, and meeting up with Anne's sister Cathy. Two Promenade Concerts provided some cultural nourishment for us, as well as providing an excuse to spend a day in London with the myriad tourists. We walked around Westminster, past the Abbey and Houses of Parliament, over the Thames and along the South Bank, later having an hour in Hyde Park. After a year in Africa all of this, and in particular the extraordinary Albert Memorial provide a bit of a contrast!

But of course, the great highlight was Jo’s graduation back in Leicester – the result of five years’ hard work. It was a splendid day of celebration with Jo together with her friends and their families, enhanced by a short, pithy and very amusing speech by Bill Bryson in response to the honorary DLitt he received at the graduation ceremony.

A short time in North Wales (cold and damp weather, but warm welcome from Allan's other brother, Keith), made us ready for the journey back to Uganda where we engaged in our first exercise as travel guides, accompanying our friends David and Di in Kampala, Murchison Park and Arua. David is Head of the secondary school in Allan’s last parish and whilst in the UK we had been able to see the progress on their new school building. It was a good way to return to Arua and we enjoyed their visit immensely.

But now the work begins. There is much to do and as we settle here again we hope to be able to share with you more of our experiences here in NW Uganda, more of its sights and sounds, as well of its delights and frustrations. We look forward to the future whatever it holds.

Meet Kirit

Kirit is a key person in our Ugandan lifestyle. He’s calm, efficient, knowledgeable and very reliable, and we’ve been depending on him for most of the time we’ve been in Uganda. The only problem is that Kirit is based in Kampala, and so on occasions we’ve had to find Aruan substitutes. Fedele and Enoch have filled that role in Kuluva, but there are some things that even they can’t do, and so we have to make an appointment with Kirit. For example, Fedele was excellent when it came to shock absorbers, but as far as the on-board computer was concerned neither Fedele nor Enoch could handle it.

Kirit (he's the one on the right) is our car mechanic/advisor. He gave our Land Cruiser the once-over before we bought it, and has done a service on it every time we’ve visited Kampala. We got his name from an AIM contact, and he’s been great – a God-send.

For some time before travelling to Kampala to collect Jo from Entebbe in April, the car had been misbehaving badly. It’s an automatic (not what we’d normally choose), but in Kampala traffic it’s ideal. But the gears had started changing somewhat idiosyncratically. The problem had begun on a trip back from Kampala on a very hot day when the car was packed with goods and people. For two months we nursed the poor beast about the place, not knowing whether it would survive. Both Enoch and Fedele shook their heads sagely, rather in the manner of a doctor with bad news to deliver. Ringing Kirit though, gave birth to some small rays of hope. “Bring her in when you’re in Kampala. But treat her gently on the way”, he advised. So, a short while later when we travelled to Kampala to meet Jo, we travelled gently – not the way Anne normally drives(!!) – Ouch!

We took the car straight to Kirit who diagnosed a computer fault and assured us that it should be easy to fix. Later that day, sure enough, the problem was solved. It had been the computer, and we felt confident driving to Entebbe a couple of days later for our rendezvous with Jo.

The same day we collected Jo, in the late afternoon (rush hour), we decided to go out for a meal. Travelling down a busy dual carriageway in Kampala, we hit a bit of a traffic jam, slowed down – and the engine died. Try as we might, the engine simply wouldn’t start again. The rest of the traffic moved – except us, and the traffic queued up behind us. But Ugandans are very forgiving people, not a single car horn was heard. Fortunately, where we had stopped the road went slightly downhill. We freewheeled a few hundred yards down the hill – struggling with the power steering which wasn’t, and finally having to stand on the power brakes which weren’t – and managed to steer into a sort of lay-by.

It was 6.05 pm. Five minutes after Kirit’s garage usually closed. We tried his number and held our breath – and much to our relief and delight he answered. Yes he was still there and would send out a low-loader to collect us. Fifteen minutes later we spotted the low-loader and enjoyed watching it having to manoeuvre the wrong way through voluminous traffic before reaching us to start the painstaking process of hauling us up on the vehicle. Sadly we had no camera to take pictures of either the process or the entertainment our predicament provided for passers-by!

We travelled to Kirit’s garage in the car on the back of the low-loader. It was a little like a royal progress, and many people waved as we passed. Kirit waited until we arrived. He couldn’t understand what was wrong, but promised to discover the problem and sort it for us.

The following lunchtime he rang. Problem solved. It was the fuel pump. Everything was now in order. We returned the car he'd kindly let us borrow (dodgy brakes, but otherwise functional), and collected ours. He felt so sorry for us he only charged for the pump – no labour. Since then our fuel consumption has reduced by about 20%. What a man!

We’re now returning to the UK for a month and giving the car a rest. It’s unlikely that we’ll post another blog until mid-August, but hope you’ll be patient. To all, thanks for being interested in what we’re doing. To those who pray – it works!

Three Days at Moyo

Early morning at the archdeacon’s compound in Moyo was a magical experience. The peace was palpable. Never mind that there was no electricity, no running water, no tasty food for a western palate. Never mind that we had gone to bed the night before with a headache from the day’s driving on terrible roads and the dehydration of a day spent in the heat. Never mind the rock-like pillows and the need to venture out under the stars (with who knows how many beasties lying in wait) when, despite the dehydration, the need to empty the bladder became irresistible. Stepping out of our grass thatched guest room at 7am and into the morning air was a tonic that lasted all day.

Moyo is in the north eastern corner of the Diocese, 180km from Arua along roads that hardly deserve the name. At one point on the journey we got stuck in cloying mud and were dug out by two local farmers who, barefoot and armed only with hoes, cheerfully rescued us by digging away the mud around the wheels and laying down straw to provide some friction. They were delighted with the UGX1000 (about 30p) we gave them each for their trouble, but they would have done it anyway. For several onlookers we provided the entertainment of the day. But the last few kilometres of the journey reward the persistent traveller with views of rocky mountains and green valleys that in any other country would be a hub of the tourist industry. Here are no tourists, but many humble families living in simple huts growing maize, peanuts, mangoes, cassava, keeping goats and chickens, and bringing up their children as best they can.

We were there to visit Church of Uganda health centres and Archdeaconry Training Centres for pastors and lay readers. Allan had brought along some copies of the ‘Africa Bible Commentary’ donated by supporting churches in UK to hand over to representatives from two of the archdeaconries. Anne was making a first visit to the two remotest health centres in the Diocese. We met with church leaders and health workers who spend their lives in this place with almost no resources to work with. Buildings are basic and sometimes crumbling, equipment is minimal and often not functioning, communication is (to western ideas) impossibly slow and uncertain. Mobile phones are a godsend, when you can afford the airtime. The archdeacon himself lives in a house that might pass for a barn in England, but which was amazingly welcoming. We sat up till past 11pm one night (we are usually tucked up before 10) discussing the nature of evil spirits and related theology with the archdeacon and several local pastors by the light of a solar powered lamp and sitting on chairs that left you with the impression of the slats they were made from on your nether regions. But no matter – who needs comfortable chairs and TV? This was much more stimulating!

Three full days during which we drove 500km and were able to do such a rich diversity of things. We visited a bee project in Yumbe and a luxurious fishing lodge in the middle of nowhere (where we were able to make the most of the western loo it offered!) We crossed the Nile on a ferry that looked ready for the scrap heap and bought a huge, freshly caught catfish which had to be transported back in our vehicle complete with smells, to be eaten that evening. On one journey, dried prunes accompanied by digestive biscuits and water became a surprisingly delicious feast when other food seemed unlikely to materialise. We held impromptu teaching sessions under a tree and in a church, and we prayed with our Ugandan colleagues on every conceivable occasion - at mealtimes, on meeting people, on saying goodbye to people (and in between), on beginning the day and before retiring to bed.

After such a trip we returned to our (seemingly) luxurious home here in Arua feeling amazingly refreshed and encouraged, still with many questions, but more aware of God’s goodness, care and calling than for many weeks.