When Hoopoes go to Heaven by Gail Parkin

The cover of this book suggests a comedy and lightness to the contents.  This  is not so.  The theme of the story, which is set in Swaziland,  is the effects of AIDS on  the average African family.  It is about loss, sorrow, misinformation, hardship and yet the overriding  responses of love, family values, duty and relationships.  

The hero is Benedict, a 10 year-old Tanzanian boy, whose parents are 'late'.  Together with his siblings and cousins, he has been adopted by his grandparents who ought to have retired, but have left their old home and travelled south so that his Baba could take up  a new position  which paid more.   Raising children costs money, as everyone knows.  So we read of life in Swaziland through the eyes of Benedict, a boy older than his years.  

Here is an extract featuring Mavis, a housemaid:

     "Nobody could see how beautiful the basket really was unless they came to look while all the stones that Madam kept inside it were in the sink.  The stones were many and a duster couldn't clean them nice-nice, they needed washing.  Eish, the stones had too many colours, many more colours than all the wool that Mavis could buy in Mbabane. Each one was about the size of the top part of Mavis's thumb, and not one of them had any piece that was sharp or square...

     "They were tumbled, Madam had said, there was a special tumbling machine that made them keep falling and rubbing against each other until their sharp edges became smooth and round, it was what happened to stones at the sea.  Mavis had never been to the sea, it was far away in Mozambique.  When life pushes you around and knocks you, Madam had told Olga, it makes you smooth and special like these stones so that you can shine and everybody can see how beautiful you are." (p. 204f)

Team India!

November 15th - just 12 days away!  I leave for India once again.  Dear old Bombay, here I come.  This time, I will be serving the Lord with a team of wonderful people which will be a new experience for me.  I have travelled alone thus far.  I expect it to be expanding and exhilarating.  Bring it on!

Stacey. Melinda, Jane, Wayne, Kelly, Joy, Liz, Beth, Barb.

I'm off to Africa - again!!

Ethiopian Restaurant, Kampala, Uganda

Jubilation! I depart from an extended ministry trip to Africa at the end of next week! This blog is intended to be mainly a record of my trips so I am delighted to be facing new experiences - there to be lived, enjoyed, suffered, endured and later relished.

All my plans are in place, the money paid, the teaching material written, the donations allocated. I have two new ventures this time. I will share aspects of discipleship with the Living Hope Ladies in Gulu, Uganda, many who have been traumatised through war. I have been to Gulu, but this will be the first time I've worked with Watoto. What a privilege.

My second 'new thing' will be in travelling to Kenya. Just the name evokes wonderful imagery, stories read long ago and movies from my childhood like "Where No Vultures Fly" and "Snows of Kilimanjaro". Definitely the 'olden days'!

The Ethiopian Restaurant in my photo was bombed recently - on the day of the World Cup Soccer final. Many innocent people were sitting nearby on rows of chairs outside watching the last few minutes of the game on a giant screen when the bomb went off, killing over 70 people (I think). Uganda has been through so much. What hate-filled people they must be, to do such a wicked thing?!

My Mercedes is not for Sale

I have been reading this book about Dutchman, Jeroen Van Bergeijk's trip from the Nederlands through North Africa. It's not really a girlie book, but he does make this interesting observation which is worth sharing (see My Mercedes is not for Sale, UK: Broadway Books, 2008, 78). To one who travels to Africa quite frequently, I found it thought-provoking.

“Things in Africa come in two forms: broken or almost broken. Whether it’s the power plant or the water supply, the Internet café’s computers or the city buses, the sewage system or the airport runway—seldom does anything in Africa work like it’s supposed to work. The art of motorcycle maintenance? The art of any maintenance whatsoever is a completely unknown concept here. It’s not that all Africans are groovy that they re romantic thinkers, that they’ve not read Pirsig. No, the philosophy here is of a whole other order; the general attitude toward life is that of inshallah—God willing. If its Allah’s will that my cab fall apart, then that’ll happen whether I maintain it well or not. So why should I care whether my brakes are in order and whether the tires still have sufficient tread if it’s ultimately Allah who runs the show? But I don’t really believe that religion is the true cause. I think you have to look for the explanation in the fact that in Africa the future does not exist. Each new day is a struggle for life-even apart from wars and famines. A great many Africans don’t know in the morning if they’ll be able to eat come evening, so why would they think of tomorrow? Why would they look any further than next week if they don t even know if they’ll still be alive tomorrow?

One might object that poor maintenance in Africa is a consequence not of religion or a lack of a concept of the future but simply of too little money. Maintenance would come of its own accord if we, the wealthy Western nations, would just make sufficient funds available. Of course, the problem is, in part, a matter of money. If you have to choose whether to spend the few miserable cents you’ve earned today on food or on an oil change for your cab, the choice isn’t hard. You choose for now and not for later. But is it really that simple?”

Happy Chapattis!

What IS a happy chapatti, let alone how do you make one?! A happy chapatti is one which puffs up during cooking. It is an indication that your bread will be light and fluffy and will pull apart into neat pieces which allow you to scoop up your other food easily. Yum!

I have to confess to never having tried to make chapattis, despite being a reasonable cook in other areas. Cooking with yeast is a challenge, in my book and not one I have yet taken up! But I have been paying close attention, against the day.

Once you have pulled off a ball of dough, rolled it, flattened it with the heel of your hands, you then slap it around a bit to flatten it out. Good therapy for dealing with latent aggression, I should think! Next you place your dough on a board begin rolling it to the required size.


When it's ready, flip it onto a preheated dry griddle and allow it to brown on one side.

Turn it over, taking care not to burn yourself.

If the chapatti puffs up - as shown - it is called a 'happy chapatti' and you're home and hosed!

Only thing left to do is gobble it up while it's still hot with delicious spiced veggies or curry! Sigh! Memories are made of this!

School Outing in South Africa

I have been browsing through old photo albums - the sort where there are actually pages with pictures pasted onto them and tracing paper between the leaves to keep them from sticking. Very old fashioned! But thank goodness for technology, because I was able to upload this one from a visit my family in South Africa a few years ago.

My sister Joan was teaching at a Primary School and she invited me to accompany her on one of the buses with the children on their end-of-year outing. All the little ones had backpacks overflowing with goodies to eat and drink for the day. I have vivid memories of this because we suspected one little boy of having tucked in on the bus. Just as we drew up in the parking lot of Gold Reef City (the mock 18th century mining town from Johannesburg's history) he vomited luxuriously all over himself. He was cleaned up by one of the teaching staff. How happy I was to be the visitor that day! Poor little fellow! It was the result of breakfast eaten in a hurry and the excitement of the day we discovered.

It was a lovely day, seeing the bubbling joy of the children as they raced around together. On the way home, I snapped this little tot sleeping. It had been so exciting and exhausting that he couldn't even finish his snack!

Bibles for Gulu

This is the church at Opit Refugee Centre just outside Gulu where I held a teaching seminar in 2008. They asked me to bring them Bibles if I returned. I have made it a priority and can joyfully report that money has already begun to come in for this project. I have received a significant donation which will buy 50 Bibles. There are 99 in a box, I've been told by the Bible Society, and there were 80 people present when the request was made to me.
I know the joy will bubble up in me when I have the privilege of being the messenger who delivers the Bibles! Thank you to Jesus and His people!