I travel to a number of different countries, some third-world, to teach short-term in little Christian Bible Colleges. I manage two to three places in a year, sometimes. Each trip has its own challenges and amusing incidents.
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)
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!
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?!
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?”
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!
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!
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!
I am travelling back in time now, through the foggy mists of memory. My Aunt Joan was married in 1951 at the Anglican Cathedral in what was then Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia. She had one bridesmaid, three flowergirls and two page boys. My sisters and I were the flowergirls and two cousins the page boys. Our dresses were so cute! Full length with pointy puffed sleeves, with two belts at the waist which were fashioned into a sweet little bow over our bottoms. A coronet of flowers in our hair and a posy of fresh flowers completed the ensemble. The fabric was grainy to touch, but shiny and exotic. Mine was pale green, not milky and insipid. I thought it was gorgeous! At five years old, I was already a confirmed tomboy, so that was saying a lot! My eldest sister's was pale pink and my next oldest sister's a light blue. We were all very satisfied with the colours we'd been allocated - our favourite colours.
The wedding reception was held at the Old Forces Club, Hatfield, set amongtst huge granite boulders which held a particular allure for us children. It seems we played the ever popular 'Cowboys and Indians'. I loved that game! The dresses Mum made for me always had the tie belts and they doubled as spendid reigns if I needed to be a horse in an action piece. At some point I found it necessary to return to my Mothers side. I was probably hungry or thirsty. It was ever thus with children. My Mother recalls the moment with clarity, for it left her aghast. The coronet and posy were long gone. The bodice of my dress was detached from the skirt and holes worn in the fabric where it had been crushed against the bounders, leaving a black residue. My Mother, who was a good dressmaker, was unable to salvage the dress. Washing never dislodged the black marks and no darning could fix the scraped holes! Looking at me in disbelief that I could have wrought so much damage in so little time, she asked "What have you been doing?!" "I've been playing cowb's, Mum," I bubbled happily.
Badji Shameem's Kebab Recipe 1/2 kg cooked potatoes, mashed 2 cm piece of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped a little fresh coriander, chopped salt and black pepper to taste 1-2 green chillies, chopped (optional) pinch red chilli powder
Mix all ingredients together, dip in beaten egg and shallow fry in a little oil.
A peep into a village kitchen in rural Pakistan
Badji is a common word used in Pakistan usually in deference to a lady older than oneself - a sister, aunt, close friend or even a stranger. Badji Shameem is known for her excellent cooking! Enjoy!
Poplars and sweetpeas, a hedge of brigalows as a backdrop - I love the contrasts. A gnarled old fig tree, green with age, sports one leaf and one small fig to manifest its identity. It sits squat in the dirt, spreading its fingery branches around it as though ready to catch onto a passer-by for support in its old age.
The gardener, mute, dogged, plods up and down with the mower, spurning the powdery rain. A floppy brim stands guard over his specs, directing the drops off his collar. He has ankle guards over his socks, a sure sign he has bush Australian background.
At the foot of a powerful gum tree, a friendly monsterio has softened its companion's bed with a mass of cuddly leaves and long ago, crawled up into the branches for a chat. They look well together - civilisation resting in the arms of the bush. Perhaps 'cultivated' is a better word than 'civilized'. One thing is obvious, they have been together a long time and have established a friendship. I gaze, sipping in the harmony.
Imagine how heavy the baby would feel after 5 minutes?!
Writing a newsletter is a lengthy task. I found a great template, which helps, but it is so important to me to let friends and family know the details of the mission trips because their prayers are so vital. I was able to email it off today. It is such a blessing to have messages of encouragement come back! Thanks!
I will be away for six weeks. Peter will mind the fort. My time will be divided equally between South Africa, Uganda and Kenya, but I will have time to be with my family first. Mum turned 86 last December, so it will be good to see her again after a two-year break. I have two sisters living in South Africa plus a deal of extended clan members! We are many!
In Uganda I will spend the first week with Operation Uganda in Kampala and Ps Russ has indicated that we will also travel to some outlying districts for ministry. I will go to Gulu for the second week to distribute the Bibles I hope to access to the people who asked for them on my last trip. However, my main task will be to cooperate with Watoto to teach in their Discipleship programme. We have not yet settled on exactly what form this will take.
It is just a hop-skip-and jump into Kenya. I am working out how I'll travel once there. Getting to Nairobi is not a problem, but from there things begin to get murky. Shall I then fly to Kisumu then take a 4x4 or a bus south? Should I try to fly to Masai Mara and find transport from there? What will I do for transport once I'm in the right town? I have been promised very clean accommodation, but there is no indoor plumbing. I can cope with that as the "no paper rule" in India is much trickier! I have tentitively enquired about a mozzie net, wondering if it would be prudent to take my own. They were freely available in Gulu, so probably will also be in Kenya, except that Pastor Alice says they are "very remote!" Mmmm! Decisions! Decisions!
Peter and I have just come home from three days at Coffs Harbour. What a magnificent place?! All one can do is kick back and enjoy God's handiwork! We were there in the week before Easter and expected the place to be full of tourists, but were pleasantly surprised to have plenty of space to ourselves. When we left Queensland, there had been plenty of rain about because of the cyclones buzzing around up north. It was with pleasure that we relished two sunshiney blue days and only on the third did the clouds and rain descend. Not enough to damp our spirits, however. We swam, ate fresh raspberries and cream, listened to music and generally had a deliciously peaceful time.
At the beginning of this year I was paging through an old copy of Discipleship Journal when I found an advert for a theological college in America which offered a degree in Intercultural Theological Education. I thought 'Ooo! That's a description of what I do.' I have been aware for some time that my degrees are all in the area of biblical studies and that I have a yawning gap in intercultural engagement. As a matter of interest I then googled 'intercultural theological degrees, Australia' and came up with only one hit - Tabor College in Adelaide.
I took a look at the curriculum and the first seminar that would be suitable for me if I embarked on a Doctor of Ministry programme was scheduled for March. It was entitled "Christian Dialogue with Muslims" - a very timely subject in the present climate of fear and misinformation. Professor Dudley Woodberry is a world authority in this area and I felt a true sense of privilege to sit under his teaching.
The programme was intense - 9am - 4.30pm for five days. I am not used to that and was experiencing sleep deprivation and brain overload by the end of the week. I flew home late on Saturday, arriving in Brisbane at midnight. Now I have to 'defrag' the old brain and begin to digest the material more thoroughly! I was able to access the wonderful Tabor library and photocopy material to use for the assignments at home. I have done a philosophy degree and I really wanted something practical. The D.Min. really fits the bill and I found it of great benefit chatting with like-minded people attending the course.
Added to the huge benefit of the seminar was the fact that my little family live in Adelaide and I was able to have one beautiful weekend 'playing' and fellowshipping with them and still see them all every evening when I returned from College. How cute it was to womble into my bedroom and find a note posted under the door from Elijah "I love you Grandy".
For most parents as they get older, happiness is having grandchildren. I adore mine! And hey, I get to see them tomorrow. Have to get up at 3am, leave home at 4am for a 5.30am flight. Ugh!
But seeing my little family in Adelaide makes it all worth while.
I have been able to combine study with this family trip as I will be attending a seminar at Tabor Adelaide during the week. I've had to read 5 books and write interactive papers on each for pre-seminar preparation! Talk about stress! It's OK if you don't have any other life.
There's lots of news about the Africa trip planned for August in the pipeline, but I'll have to wait till I return from Adelaide to get a Newsletter out with details. Life is full, but very good....
At Colour, Twenty-Ten 108 Ladies came from New Calodonia with matching red and white outfits!
I didn't get to see much of Sydney, even though we were at Darling Harbour. This feature was interesting, though.
Gill and Karen on Darling Harbour. My Teapot present!
For the last year I have attended Hillsong Brisbane (following the change-over from Garden City Christian Church). I had been attending the ladies meetings, known as 'Sisterhood' and heard much about previous 'Colour' Conferences.
I was a bit dubious about going because I had been given the impression by some that it would be 'fluffy' and 'girly', which are not words folk would readily associate with me! However, a great package became available for flight/hotel/conference/transfers, so I climbed on board. Aren't I glad I did! What a blast! In my evaluation, there was a 5% mix of fun-stuff in with the 95% of serious 'God business', a great deal of which had to do with Hillsong Sisterhood's social initiatives - Watoto orpahage and Baby Refuge in Uganda, sponsoring children in the Philippines through Compassion, helping prevent human trafficking and slavery through A21 and writing to imprisoned Christians through Voice of the Martyrs.
A new facet has been the work of Marilyn and Gary Skinner in Uganda in raising funds for the reconstruction of faces for women in Uganda who have been viciously mutilated by child soldiers in the LRA. The story of Nancy was confronting and inspiring. Nancy had her nose, lips and ears cut off with a razor blade. She was left to bleed to death by her enemies. She survived, but was rejected by her society, who didn't want to look at her! Marilyn Skinner has worked at building the infrastructure necessary to have Nancy's face repaired. We saw a picture of her with her new nose. We wept. Unlike us, Nancy was smiling broadly, just glowing! The news has come through "Nancy has got her lips!" 7000 (I'm not sure if that number is accurate, but think so) women laughed and rejoiced for her. Her ears are on the way!
"Rejoice with me, for that which was lost is found!"
Marilyn has told us that she is building a network of willing plastic surgeons who will do the reconstructive surgery, delighted that it goes beyond the confinements of Western women just wanting to be 'more beautiful'. The challenge is to raise the funds for the attendant medical costs as there are countless women and children in Uganda who have fallen victim to the LRA.
For myself, I was blessed to be able to camp in a room with two terrific young ladies - Karen and Gillian. They certainly made me laugh. I have known them both since before they were married in church circles, but didn't have a clue until I booked into the hotel who I was to room with. Thank you Lord - it was an inspired choice!
I learned lots of stuff, mind you, including the joys of eating DESERT PIZZA in the room at 10.30pm!! Yes, I heard that - you asked "What's dessert pizza?" Picture it! Pizza base drooled in chocolate, sprinkled thickly with sliced strawberries and banana and topped with ICE CREAM! I promise! However, because the girls had brought mine to the room, they thought it prudent to dispense with the ice cream, so I just had the melty remains. I watched hair straightening sessions, clothes layering sessions, and learned tips such as Cover your hair roots with mascara or black marker pen!! They are innovative young ladies.
There were four speakers: Holly Wagner, Priscilla Shirer, Christine Cain and Dr Robbie Sonderegger - all exceptional speakers, but their messages were also profound and intended to fire up, not just inspire or amuse. The Sisterhood mantra is "BE THE CHANGE!" None of the speakers pulled their punches. It was not about those present feeling good, or joining Hillsong, but the message that there is a new spiritual season abroad and we need to be 'of it' and 'in it.'
Many people from other denominations and countries were present. I chatted with a young lady who had flown in from Chennai for this. She is R. Catholic. I spoke with Presbyterians, Baptists, Anglicans and there was 108 ladies from New Calodonia who wowed us with their red dresses and white accessories.
All of us received teapots as presents lending an amusing aspect to 200 of us returning home to Brisbane and going through the scanner at the airport. "What! Another teapot!" the man at the screen exclaimed! These are the words printed on the lid of the boxes:
"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has."Margaret Mead
My lovely niece Helena lives in South Africa, one of the places I expect to be visiting in August this year. This is her story and the reason I have included her web address for anyone interested. I'll let Helena take over from here...
HELENA'S STORY
As you know, our precious baby Joel was a miracle baby! In July 2008 I nearly lost my only ovary and my Doctor rushed me into surgery and saved it in the nick of time. At the age of 18 I lost my left overy when my fallopian tube twisted, cutting off the blood flow. It is so bizarre that nearly eight years later the same thing should happen to my right ovary. I feared that I would never be able to have my own children. Why is it that what we fear most always seems to come about?! God showed me that the weapon against fear is love: "perfect love drives out fear" (1 John 4:18). Through everything I have been through I have learned to hold my Heavenly Daddy's hand and trust Him.
My baby was born with a cleft in the soft palate. The emotional journey has been hectic, but we are doing so much better now. As a parent, you have so many questions and in the beginning, I battled with blaming myself. We did not know anything about cleft lip/palate's as it does not run in either of our families. When we were searching online, all the info that we could find was from overseas. One day I walked into an Art Gallery and mentioned my story to the owner (an absolute stranger). I learned that her friend's baby was also born with a cleft in the soft palate. After meeting with this fellow-parent of a cleft baby, I felt so relieved! I knew that God had set up my walking into that Art Gallery and the fact that I shared my story.
We decided to travel to Cape Town to Dr Dirk Lazarus, a renowned Plastic Surgeon, who runs the Cleft Lip/Palate Clinic at the Red Cross Children's Hospital. This was a traumatic time in our lives. Preparing for my six-month-old baby to go into theatre, then watching him wake up from the anaesthetic and monitoring his pain was not easy to cope with. We discovered that having a cleft baby is a journey, not an once off operation to fix it all. In addition to having the primary repair operation, we had to learn how to use a special-needs bottle, find a responsible care-giver for the days when I had to go back to work. Depending on the severity of the child's cleft, there remains the possibility of needing multiple operations.
After repairing the soft palate, it is tricky to feed your baby, so used a syringe. It hurts them when they swallow. Shame! Then when they are older, they could need speech therapy and orthodontic work. Unfortunately, with a cleft in the soft palate, it is not possible for the baby to breast feed as they are not able to create the vacuum to suck as hard as is needed. We have found out so much and go out of our way to make Joel suckle from his bottle to develop his facial muscles as this will help with his speech when he is older.
Joel is almost ten months old now. He is drinking from a normal Avent 4flow bottle. He is a real 'monkey nut' and loves his Mommy and Daddy! He goes to a normal creche. He loves life! In November 2010 we will travel to Cape Town for his check up and are trusting God that all will be fine and no further surgeries will be necessary.
I work with a lady who was born with a unilateral cleft lip and cleft of the soft palate. Madge is now 38 years old and successful. We both have a passion to help parents and people affected by cleft lips and palates, as we have walked the same road. Madge has had a profound refelation about being "fearfully and wonderfully made (see Psalm 139: 13-18). She used to believe that God made a mistake, but through her walk with the Lord, she has been made whole and knows that though she was born with a cleft lip/palate, it was not God's mistake.
So... together, we have started a South African website and are in the process of creating awareness about cleft lip/palates in our community.
WHAT IS CLEFT FRIENDS......... Cleft Friends was born in 2009 out of a need to support parents in South Africa with babies born with cleft lips and palates. We are based in Port Elizabeth in the Eastern Cape and are a non-profit support group organisation. Our aim is to be a friend to parents and children affected by cleft lip/palates by meeting them as soon as possible after the birth of the affected child, supporting them emotionally through the various operations and connecting them with healthcare professionals in their area. Our vision is to create awareness about cleft lips/palates in our community and provide special-needs bottles for babies born in underprivileged areas. To our knowledge, there is no similar support group in South Africa, so this fills an enormous need. Because of this lack of other help, we have even had medical personnel contact us and ask us to visit people desperately in need of the encouragement we can offer. We already have two Moms in Humansdorp, one in Uitenhage, and two in Kwazakhele Township in PE. As we are not medical professionals and don't pretend to be, we can only share from our experiences and refer parents to the appropriate professionals in their areas. So many people in this position have to rely on anecdotes on how to cope and make the best they can of it.
It doesn't cost to be a friend. As Born Again Christians, we believe that we are filling a gap in our community and sharing God's love with practical advice where it is needed most. In the rural areas of South Africa, cleft palate babies are shunned from their communities in the belief that they are cursed. Our goal is to bring awareness and hope to parents and people affected by clefts. Cleft Friends is not our full time jobs - but it is who we are!
Ideally, we would like to travel to the Cleft Lip and Palate Association (CLAPA) in London to do their parent training programme so that we can be in a position to train parents in South Africa in other districts to establish similar support groups. We are in the process of raising funds for this venture.
Wow! this year is shaping up to be EXTREMELY full and EXCITING for LIZZIEGEE! I began 2010 with a vague hope that I would be able to work in Uganda this year, but all I really had in my hand were invitations to speak at some Conferences (mainly for Women), one in India and two in Pakistan. Over the last three month's I have laboured to work out likely dates and costs. Very slowly, things have been falling into place.
The "Africa" trip is projected for August/September. I expect to fly from Australia to South Africa and have some time with my family. Mum is 86 now and known to most as Granny Betty. I even call her that myself sometimes! She retired from her teaching job at the end of 2008 and sold her car in May 2009. She's a legend! She is especially famous for the Chicken Pie she makes each Christmas. Mmmm! My own version is 'paltry' by comparison (no pun intended)!
The plan was to fly to Uganda and minister in and around Kampala for Operation Uganda for two weeks then return to RSA for a few days before returning to Oz. The Uganda leg has not altered, but there has been an interesting new development. I received a totally unsolicited invitation to teach in Kenya. Since I will be so close, it seems reasonable to add another leg to that part of the trip. I promised to pray about it and investigate costs and flight connections. It has every appearance of happening at this stage, but I'm taking it slowly. The location sounds tremendous. The town is close to the Masai Mara Game Reserve and also Lake Victoria. Sounds super!
I would only be back in Australia for six weeks or so before taking off to Pakistan. I decided it would be more sensible to schedule the conference in India for January 2011, rather than back-on-back with Pakistan as I normally do. In Pakistan I will teach at the Bible College for a couple of weeks as usual, but the two conferences are something new and I am really looking forward to them. Only the dates are in place at the moment - not much else.
Right at the moment, my mind is preoccupied with study (I have begun studying again, this time for a D. Min in Intercultural Theological Education) and also with a mini-trip looming at the end of the week. Guess what?! I am actually going to the Colour Conference in Sydney! A first for me. I have been told bits about it, but I am looking forward to having my spirit refreshed and my faith boosted by the enthusiasm of other ladies.
India is such a gorgeous place but what a country of contrasts?! As I travelled around I would feast my eyes on her delights, only to find myself moments later scrunching them closed to avoid seeing gross sights over which I was helpless to make a difference– like starving puppies, cruelly overloaded donkeys, or betel-nut spewing locals. (I loathe spitting with a passion). As for India, I have been unable to resist the people I have met there and have come to love many of them. My last trip was at the end of 2009.
Dharwad was my first stop, to teach on the Prophets at a small Bible College. The directors also run a Children’s Home and Guest House and are constantly reaching out into the community with mercy ministries plus discipleship training. The students were very responsive to learning about the OT Prophets, and constructing a cardboard model of Solomon’s Temple was a highlight.
I stayed in the Guest House, where large monkeys raided the fruit trees every few days for almonds and coconuts, galloping loudly over the roof above my head to gain access! I shared facilities with a fine, young American fellow, Jason, who had been teaching on Wisdom Literature at the B/C. He kindly accompanied me on the local bus to shop in the street market for veggies as he had learned enough Kannada to barter a little. Mostly we ate with the students or at the Children’s Home, but occasionally I cooked and we shared these meals together over quite a few laughs. Jason has since moved on to Nepal. His fiancée Esther is working in a Children’s Home in Ukraine. Impressively, they have both committed a year to God’s work before their marriage. We are not from the same denominational background and are years apart in age, yet that made no difference to our fellowship.
Jaysingpuris not very far north from Dharwad, though across the border in another state. My friends kindly drove me there, but we encountered traffic jam en route. As we passed the hindrance, I glanced over and saw what was probably a fatal accident involving a motor-cyclist between two trucks. I was unable to talk for a long while, so distressing was the sight, making one dreadfully aware of the fragility of life.
I reconnected with Raj and Rosemary and met their new baby Neil. Rosie
assisted me by translating at the meetings organised through New Life Fellowship under one local Pastor for whom I have ministered on previous trips. I love visiting village churches and at one in particular, with the strange name of Kupwad, their warmth and ingenuous response to me was endearing. They all crowded outside to wave me off. It felt like family saying ‘goodbye’. That same day we visited another Children’s Home in nearby Miraj. There are many, many needy children in India.
Kolhapur proved to be a serendipity experience. With no ministry plans and only a
few networking connections to make, basically I thought I would have three days for a little R & R. Didn’t happen, hey! Even before I lobbed on the steps of the hotel, I had bookings to preach at two church services and one ladies meeting. Pastor Nelson and his accountant Kajil were so easy to work with, the bonus being the amount of laughing we did together as we rapidly became like old friends. I can’t wait to get together with Kajil again. As an additional benefit, she is a great cook and has promised me recipes! I had one lovely day sightseeing at the Rajah’s New Palace with Kajil, supervised by Ps Nelson.
After teaching about Women in the Ministry of Jesus to the ladies, Ps Nelson
asked if I would return in 2010 because he felt this message of acceptance at a was so important it should feature in a Women’s Conference. In India, he explained, it is not a simple case of women being considered to be inferior by men, but that women are convinced of their own lowliness as part of a cultural mindset. I would certainly love to return, but think it is more likely to be in 2011.
Another Pastor, Yohan, took me out to a village house church to preach. When we arrived, the small group sitting on the floor proceeded to sing their usual praise and worship, but since there had been a power cut, did so in almost pitch dark, the tiniest oil lamp in a niche seeming to only deepen the shadows. I thought forlornly of my beautifully typed notes! As Yohan introduced me, hey presto! the lights came on and as I said “Amen” at the end of my message, hey presto! they went off!! I was duly impressed by providence!
Later, Ps Yohan and I sat cross-legged on the floor to eat chicken curry and
chapatti with our fingers, the oil lamp on an upturned vessel amongst the plates
so we could at least see where our mouths were! I discovered that dupattas
(the long, matching scarf worn by women) make a nifty drip tray and serviette.
My greatest problem was scrabbling to my feet afterwards!
