We'd booked breakfast for later, 8.00am, with chai. When it came I was the only one about, though I could hear Steve in our bedroom. It was pancakes, with a bowl of brown dip and a bowl of pale green dip. Cautiously testing, both proved to be sharply spicy. I resorted to my jar of Marmite, and a bruised apple from the bottom of my case, while I finished some conference session preparation.Sam, our driver, arrived early. Not even he could be induced to towards the untouched food. When we seemed about ready, he asked how the guys had liked their djibans. (I gather the generic term is Kurtas.) And after a pause, he added that we were meant to wear them today! This touched a tangle of emotions in me. Although I was happy to respect Daniel E's kindness, I'd found my garment was very tight. In fact I couldn't get it on without ripping out my hearing aids and nearly dislocating my shoulders, though I'd been assured, the finished effect was marvellous. By contrast, Steve's different, ample, style flapped around like a pair of sheets on a washing line. Clothes sizes have been a perpetual problem for me, even when I get stuff for myself. So, I'm a bit touchy.
Sam hadn't got any photos on his own camera last night, so insisted that we did a round now. It went: Sam standing with me and Steve taken by Nathan; then standing with Nathan and Sam taken by Steve; then the two Sams and me; and then the four of us standing outside taken by Sam himself. It was worse then our Iranian members at a church national event. Finally we pointed out that it was well past 10.00am, and he reluctantly led the way to the Tata. As soon as we got out, he corralled us so one of the delegates could take an ensemble of Sam with the four of us - the shot he'd been trying to contrive all along.
The attendance in Daniel E's church hall was embarrassingly sparse. But I've become used to these slow-burn starts, when the numbers pick up hour by hour. Seemingly in India, people chip off sharpish after lunch, too. This is a conference custom I've observed in UK amongst public sector workers, once they've got their attendance/CPD certificate signed.
We went into discussion about when the hired music kit should get returned to the shop. Ram appeared again. I couldn't help wondering if he'd been sent by the manager to keep an eye on things, but his participation was obviously genuine. The rounds of raucous atonal attempts to stir up some enthusiastic singing died down. There were extended introductions, a couple of songs from Nathan, and I did the official Multiply presentation. Some good questions-and-answers followed. During the welcome tea break, Daniel G slid alongside me and asked, "What shall we do next, Uncle?"
For weeks I'd been trying to explain to Steve that there'd hardly be such a thing as a conference programme. We'd just work out what sessions and subjects that we'd tackle as we saw how may people were there, and what was stirring interest. I suggested Steve should introduce 'spiritual fathering'. "Look, Greatheart," he protested, I've been trying to tell you that I needed to know what we'd be doing. I haven't finished going through the powerpoint you sent me on this." But he'd attempted something, and that would have to do. "You've got 55 minutes," I smiled.
He was brilliant. The previous morning in the slums had pushed all the right buttons. He'd sternly declared that a condition of coming on the trip would be to 'see the people as they really are', and that had been fulfilled. There was a touching moment when a little lad wandered to the front and looked right up at Steve. In the final minutes before lunch, Daniel arranged groups to answer three questions, and then collected feedback.Over lunch, Daniel and I agreed we'd finish off what Steve's hour had left untaught, as this was obviously scratching where it itched. Daniel had introduced me to a brother who works with Dwight Smith on church planting. I've read his principles with interest. I battled through Steve's bodged second half, with mis-shuffled slides and all. But the crowd was happy to get some New Testament foundation to Steve's inspiring first half. Suddenly it was all over. Ram, Sam and Nathan delivered all the hire kit back at the shop, and arranged to 'see the boys in town' later. Steve and I spent some time with Sylvia, the youth leader's wife. Yes, she'd had a good night's sleep after we'd prayed around their apartment, next to the church, before leaving last night.
Daniel G and I thrashed out who'd pay for what regarding our accommodation, taxi to the airport in the morning, and other outside-of-budget expenses. We said one last goodbye to Daniel E and Betty and landed back at Noah's Inn. Driver Sam came into the reception to negotiate the taxi. "Three a.m. then: 1,180 rupees." Steve and I wearily scattered our stuff around the bedroom ready to repack. He and Daniel G would leave at 9.00am to fly to Kochin and head onwards to Thrissur. All of us would face a domestic flight main luggage limit of 15kg, and the trick would be to jam as much as possible into our hand baggage - the opposite of our outwards flight.
We gave up on having anything to eat. I survived on a chocolate bar, while Steve unearthed some wheaty biscuits and a jar of peanut butter from the depths of his tarty North Face canoe bag. I made some last good use of the wifi, and then wrapped myself in my cotton sleepingbag liner aiming for four hours' sleep. Steve thoughtfully switched off the light and headed for a shower in the other ensuite bathroom. At around eleven, I heard Nathan and Sam return. At this hour, I guessed, they wouldn't bother to go to bed. I was right.
