Another early morning quiet time on the porch. It's a simple pleasure I always value on these tropical trips. Insects buzzed round the bottle brush plant. I haven't heard any cock-crow here yet, though.
Bishop Stanford rang in to say the car's brakes had failed, so our life was late. As I set up, I noticed the lovely singing, unaccompanied and in rich harmonies. It's more like worship I heard in Rwanda, and a sharp contrast with the 80+ decibels singing and insistent keyboard lead they seem to find obligatory in Kenya and Zambia. I was sorry that fiddling to get the projection right meant I couldn't take a recording.
Having lost time, we cracked on with the main teaching on kingdom finances. The sharing in groups got more and more animated. I'm always wary of this, as it often means people are loudly justifying themselves, or some big-mouth is hogging the show. I was told, "No, they're genuinely discussing things." Lunch was rather more modest. It left me time for a wander in the sunshine down to the nearby bridge. I watched swallows flying over the river, some a gorgeous blue, some with rusty heads and rumps (lesser striped swallows).
Len led a long Q&A session and did very well. After I'd talked about fathering, Farayi shared too. Altogether a nice bit of teamwork. I wonder what it will be like when we have Gregory and Rukundo, too, in Dar es Salaam: I should have an easy life!
Steven dashed off to another church meeting. At Grace's insistence we went to the central hospital Bwaila maternity unit where she works. We passed the main row of central stalls - first the coffins, then the ironwork, then the soft furnishings. I must confess that three UK dads poking their noses around the labour ward and all seemed a bit strange. It didn't seem proper to take photos. Mums waiting for delivery were in cramped wards of ten or twelve beds, where the mosquito nets suggested six should be the capacity. They were sleeping in the corridors, too. Some mums hang around for a month before they're due. Without ante-natal clinics, they don't have a 'date', and anyway the hospital provides three free meals a day. They do ten or more deliveries per shift, where the facility was designed for two. Grace showed us prem baby unit, the ward for mums with blood pressure, the HDU and ward for children having suffered from other complications. There are no incubators on the general wards - mums are given their babies straight into their arms to look after.
After dropping our bags at the Lodge, Len, Farayi and I travelled to a Pizza Inn, as Bishop S was inviting us for a meal together. I had this iced drink called Slush which gave me brain freeze behind my right eye. When we got home, the WiFi was on go-slow (we have some Japanese visitors here), so I had the earliest night so far. Farayi was in his customary pose, reading under his mozzi net.
Bishop Stanford rang in to say the car's brakes had failed, so our life was late. As I set up, I noticed the lovely singing, unaccompanied and in rich harmonies. It's more like worship I heard in Rwanda, and a sharp contrast with the 80+ decibels singing and insistent keyboard lead they seem to find obligatory in Kenya and Zambia. I was sorry that fiddling to get the projection right meant I couldn't take a recording.
Having lost time, we cracked on with the main teaching on kingdom finances. The sharing in groups got more and more animated. I'm always wary of this, as it often means people are loudly justifying themselves, or some big-mouth is hogging the show. I was told, "No, they're genuinely discussing things." Lunch was rather more modest. It left me time for a wander in the sunshine down to the nearby bridge. I watched swallows flying over the river, some a gorgeous blue, some with rusty heads and rumps (lesser striped swallows).
Steven dashed off to another church meeting. At Grace's insistence we went to the central hospital Bwaila maternity unit where she works. We passed the main row of central stalls - first the coffins, then the ironwork, then the soft furnishings. I must confess that three UK dads poking their noses around the labour ward and all seemed a bit strange. It didn't seem proper to take photos. Mums waiting for delivery were in cramped wards of ten or twelve beds, where the mosquito nets suggested six should be the capacity. They were sleeping in the corridors, too. Some mums hang around for a month before they're due. Without ante-natal clinics, they don't have a 'date', and anyway the hospital provides three free meals a day. They do ten or more deliveries per shift, where the facility was designed for two. Grace showed us prem baby unit, the ward for mums with blood pressure, the HDU and ward for children having suffered from other complications. There are no incubators on the general wards - mums are given their babies straight into their arms to look after.
After dropping our bags at the Lodge, Len, Farayi and I travelled to a Pizza Inn, as Bishop S was inviting us for a meal together. I had this iced drink called Slush which gave me brain freeze behind my right eye. When we got home, the WiFi was on go-slow (we have some Japanese visitors here), so I had the earliest night so far. Farayi was in his customary pose, reading under his mozzi net.
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