Multiply Zambia 2014 Day Seven - Tuesday

The muezzin kicks in at 5.07am.  He must be on Mecca sunrise time.  I shower, pack and grab a couple of cups of coffee and pieces of toast and Marmite for breakfast.  We're loading the car at 8.00am.  Steven seems a bit reluctant, as he maintains, "Lusaka Airport isn't Heathrow".  But it is three-quarters of an hour's drive away, and we have to pick up Harriet on the way.  The Departures indicator board doesn't even tell us which check-in desk to go to: there's only one!  I gather that there's now no direct flight from London to Lusaka; but Ethiopian Airways run a Dreamliner service to Shanghai.  What does that tell you?

Our flight left an hour late, as they'd had to do an unscheduled refuelling.  The terminal computers had gone down, leaving the ground crew unable to do the billing.  Once airborne, I briefly dozed off.  But then I watched the landscape pass beneath us and the gorgeous clouds stretch into the distance.  Everywhere seems well cultivated - but this is the end of the rainy season.

Lilongwe Airport is picturesque, with tended landscaping, and trees in the car park were in full bloom.  Bishop Stanford met us an a mini-MPV he'd hired for our stay, and drove us to Calla Lily Lodge.  We pass very rural African roadside scenes: a knot of boys looking after a small herd of cattle; thatched homesteads.  A far cry from the thriving - and messy - Zambia that lies not many miles away. 

The Lodge is in Area 47 Sector 3, according to the city's Milton Keynes type naming system.  We poked our noses into all the vacant rooms and made our choice: Farayi and I are sharing this time.  We decide there's just time to dash into the centre and change some currency.  I still have 900 Zambia Kwacha (about £95), and there was no conversion rate at the Airport.  "Hmm," the Bishop confirms.  "You won't get that changed in any of the banks, but I know someone..."  We've just landed, and now we're black-market money changing at the well-scrubbed bishop's initiation.

We find the one mall in the centre and soon I turn round from the front seat to find what I'd have taken as  Jamaican guy sitting in the back seat peeling notes from thick wads he's dug from a rucksack.  He's offering a good rate on Sterling: 670 Malawian Kwacha to the pound, but only 50 for Zambian, where the right rate should be nearer 70.  I'll send the money back to Kitwe with Farayi, where he'll get at least £90 from any outlet.

Back at the Lodge, Steven approaches me hesitantly.  "We feel it would be better to hold the conference tomorrow and Thursday rather than Thursday and Friday."  He offers no explanation, but follows, "We can do our planning now, and on Friday we can go out, maybe to Lake Malawi."  I can't think of an objection.  So we go down to the dining room for a welcome cup of tea and chat about the programme.  Rev Harold, from the Presbyterian Church we'll us, joins us.  He came to the Kitwe conference three years ago, and I remember his ready smile from the video of the march.

Bishop S is softly spoken, very particular and deliberate in his ways.  We soon have things sorted.  Translation will be into Chichewa.  Steven lets Reception know when we'll eat, and we get unpacking .  I chat about the family to Farayi - he's a very similar age to Gav.  We've all ordered local pan-fried Chambo fish.  (Lake Malawi boasts 800 difference species of fish according to National Geographic.)   It's bony and tasty, but we're pestered by mosquitoes that seem to make Farayi a particular target.

I just manage to catch up with some emails before the WiFi network slows to an impossible crawl.  I have a huge double bed that seems wider than it's long and it's crowned with a kingfisher blue mosquito net.   As I drift off to sleep, Farayi has retreated inside his net and is lying reading.

I'm liking Malawi.

Multiply Zambia 2014 Day Six - Monday

The muezzin overslept, so no 5am interruptions.  My washed shirts don't seem to have dried one iota, and my left hearing aid's developed the dysfunctional repetitive clicking that it did in India.  I put it in the fridge for half an hour, in case the electronics had overheated, and it only temporarily worked again properly.  This means that all day I was withdrawing socially.

We got down to the building housing Pastor David's church and found the whole neighbourhood choked with parked cars.  I jumped out and set up for presentations. The sessions went well, and we weren't translating - I was expecting Nyanja.  At the lunch-break interval there was no sign of the food.

Because the host church we holding its own lunchtime fellowship our delegates were left wandering around a bit aimlessly.  We regathered having not eaten, and then took a second break.  The sunshine outside was hot and bright.  The food was set up in an open concourse available for the just such purpose for premises users.  It was a huge spread and I wished we could have done the whole arrangement more justice!

When we finished, we similarly had to vacate in a hurry to make way for another fellowship group.  They can't be accused of under-utilising the premises.  Listening in the the lunchtime preaching, I heard again that some quick-fix nugget of revelation was going to release us into a season of blessing and breakthrough.  I don't think this constant one-sided anointing emphasis squares with the New Testament's teaching on the flesh being our enemy and the need for a process of sanctification.  I'll ask Steven.

We were caught in rush-hour traffic on hour way back at the Villa Lodge (opposite the Salvation Army Centre).  Zambia seems to have skipped over the customary economic progress route from bicycle to motorbike to car, and 4x4s abound.  The WiFi's fixed at last, and 204 emails flood my Inbox.  I manage to get up to date on posting blogs.

We were due to eat at Robbie and Harriet's new home on the massive eastern side development at 7.30pm.  We set off at 9.00pm.  They're the couple who had arranged our lift from the coach station and sorted us out with the use of a car.  I wasn't feeling like engaging - a big late lunch, unable to participate in conversation, and anxious about our early start tomorrow for the 11.15am flight to Malawi.  We bumped and splashed along an un-made-up road with new detached and floodlit walled-and-gated houses on both sides.  The owners have boreholes for their water supply, as properties are going up faster than the city can extend utilities.

Another huge and tasty spread.  The home is spacious and well appointed, but as ever, the build quality is lousy.  Our own accommodation has ill-fitting doors and tacky furniture.   Robbie is a commercial lawyer (trained in Birmingham) for the near-monopoly Zesco utilities company.  Harriet works with refugee issues in the Home office.  Robbie's ten mile daily commute, starting at 6.00am, takes an hour-and three-quarters.   At 11.00pm we make our farewells, and Len comments, "There's a real opening for a quality building firm round here."  I'm not sure what he has in mind.

We're back home in half an hour and I set my alarm for 6.00am, a bit earlier than usual.

Multiply Zambia 2014 Day Five - Sunday

At 5.10am the muezzin started up again.  Len later comments, "It's alright for a few days.  But if it went on any longer I think I'd be finding ways to sabotage the noise."  Steven didn't make it to breakfast, and Farayi grasses him up that he's only had water.  "Steven you didn't make it," I gently chide him.  "I was still full from last night," he protests.  "That was Brother Ass's reward for yesterday's service.  He needs some hay to start the new day."  What can you do with these stoic types?

Len rings Ali and finds out that the team in Kitwe have spent the day playing outside with the orphanage kids.  Len and Farayi hide away in the swimming pool enclosure to pray about their meeting at Derek's church.  Steven and I climb into the car that's been kindly hired for his use while we're here.  It's new a top-of-the range Toyota 4x4, complete with reversing camera and air-con that works.

We head off to David's church.  It's in a multistorey building just by Kabwe roundabout.  It was a Government office, but then got converted for commercial use, including a multiplex cinema facility.  I remember David from the MILC conference in 2012, and he emerges as a genuine and serious-minded pastor.  There are some long introductions, and I begin teaching.  I speak of Lusaka attracting people with ambitions, and mention Absalom who sowed division against King David's leadership.  It hits the mark: I don't know any details. 

As we draw to a close, and adjacent theatre overflows with shouting and ear-splitting music.  It's another of the several churches that use the facility.  Do decibels dismiss demons?  It's a cultural thing, I guess deriving from the big chief and witchdoctor model of leadership.  But our model is 'grey matter grows the church', and it's no better.

Steven has bumped into several old friends in the concourse, including Kampamba, a fouth year law student who was very close to the family in Kitwe.  The ladies seemed to be having a babysling-fest, which I captured for Kat.  We drove round the corner to a brand new shopping mall for a cocacola.  Eventually Steven's son, Tusa, Derek and Len join us for a pizza and to plan tomorrow's conference.  David should have been there, too, but his leaders' meeting over-ran.  Farayi had promised to see his parents for the afternoon.  I ask Steven's son if he may consider doing his third-year six-months' industrial placement with us in UK.

Steven suggests we go to the Munda Wanga zoo park.  This was a new one on me.  It lies on the Livingstone Road, in Chilanga, the next substantial township.  The reception office boasts we'll see crocodiles, lions, ostrich and zebra.  It's all a bit scruffy, and the Zambians are discussing how the Government have let it get run down.  The ostriches have sauntered off to the far side of their enclosure, but the warthogs have captivated Len.  He and I spot a line of ants crossing our path.  In his enthusiasm, Len get too close and the mites swarm up his socks.  He feels the bites on his legs and tries to shake them off.  One will only yield after tearing away several strands of fibre. 

"The lions." Steven called from ahead.  Sure enough, there's a lioness calmly surveying us from a make-shift platform just ten metres away.  Lying between us is just a mesh fence that in UK would have disgraced an average recreation ground.  We return via the unhappy-looking birds of prey compound and the crocodiles.  The baboons earn the distinction of electric fencing.  Nasty creatures.

Back in the hotel I expect Len to jump in the shower an recover from his molestation.  He picks his way through his socks and finds ten ants, of which three are still very much alive (briefly).   I console him with a cup of tea.  The room-service staff have moved everything around, but nothing's missing and the room is tidy and spotlessly clean.  I get out the laptop and add 'Brother let me be your servant' to tomorrow's Powerpoint.  When Len checks, Steven has forgotten to order our menu choice for the evening meal.  The Wi-Fi's still out of action.  As someone commented earlier in the week, "It's impossible to die of stress in Zambia."

After dinner Len and Farayi head of for a walk along Cairo Road.  Before going to bed I wash out a couple of shirts in the shower.  I've trying to learn these 'travel' ways.  I hope they'll dry before I have to pack for the flight to Malawi.

Multiply Zambia 2014 Day Four - Saturday

Len had a bad night's sleep: feeling hot and restless.  Maybe it was the result of eating late.  Over breakfast I promise Gladys that I'll find a way of 'taking out Steven's batteries', and he's been non-stop on the go.  George arrives with our lift, and is very concerned for his wife, Yvonne, who's been poorly for a couple of days.  With the prayer watch, fasting and running us around he's looking drained.  On the way into Kitwe centre, Len shows me a text from Ali saying Yvonne's diagnosis is malaria.

We save a bit of time on the journey.  In Zambia, Elecricity is only supplied on a prepayment basis.  Kitwe Council have yet again failed to pay the bill, leaving the city's traffic lights out of action.  We draw up alongside the familiar dark blue Mazhandu Family coach.  Steven is haggling with the main attendant.  They've given away our seats, which Steven had booked yesterday.  The coach roars off on time, and Steven is left trying to negotiate a refund and rebooking on the next available service. 

We shuffle along to the Jitotwe Coaches waiting area, and try to shake off two drunks who keep wanting us to pray for them.  Soon we pile on board, and head off just half an hour later.  This is a 62-passenger coach with 14 rows of seats where in Uk we'd have 12.  Len and I have some bum room, but my knees are jammed.  A preacher in a smart while shirt and a tie addresses us in Bember and English.  I give him a few 'Amens'.  Before he steps off the bus at the city boundary, he walks up and down the aisle to take an offertory.

We thunder in to Ndola for a passenger swop.  If there are speed restrictions, we have no evidence.  On the Kapiri and then a second comfort break at Kabwe.  I ring Mick, as off the bus I can hear myself think and don't have to compete with the wearingly loud 'in coach entertainment'.  I finish reading 'Nevertheless', the story of the first seven years of Christians Against Poverty, as I'm defeated trying to doze off by leg cramp.

The final crawl into Lusaka is painful.  There's a great sprawl of new building since I was here in 2011.  Farayi says it's even bigger on the eastern side of the city.  We trundle into the coach station at 4.30pm and are besieged by taxi drivers.  Steven has arranged for his old friend Chinwemba to collect us.  Steven's son, Tusa, studying business at the university, greets us too.  We head off to a guest lodge, and Len likes the vibe.  They've let our rooms go, and we have to transfer to their partner lodge nearer the city centre.  It's new and posher and boasts a jacuzzi.  The four of us agree to share two double rooms, and the price drops to within Steven's budget.

I had a welcome hot shower while Len and Farayi took a stroll round the neighbourhood.  At some point the muezzin in the local mosque started up his nasal evening call to prayer over an indifferent loudspeaker system.  I prepared tomorrow's teaching ministry.  We ordered some food - Kafue bream - and gathered in the dining room some time before 7.00pm.  Farayi encouraged me to eat the bream with my fingers.   It glared at me menacingly.

 Steven looked tired, but painstakingly related tomorrow's arrangements so we're all happy.  We tell him St Francis likened his body to a donkey that carried his spirit, calling it 'Brother Ass'.  Steven gets the point - when it sits down under you and refuses to go any further, you're stuck.  He throws back his head and laughs.  "And does Brother Ass like icecream?" I ask.  Steven gets the point, and we order some.

Back in the room, I try out the lodge WiFi, but it's not connecting to the Internet.  Then I try Len's data dongle, but it can't find a mobile profile that works.  Posting the blogs will have to wait.  Ah well, a welcome early night.

Multiply Zambia 2014 Day Three - Friday

It seemed like all day yesterday the team where saying, "What day is it?"  But everyone was on top form today.  I made a mental note to get some video shots of the sewing room, so I could report back to Workaid.  But besides this and getting handouts done on the new Internet Cafe system, my day promised to be straightforward. 

It was also noticeably cool.  Last night Gladys's sister and mother were warming their feet around the charcoal stove on which they prepare nshima.  I texted Gav to say Mary had reported that Nate's operation had gone okay, and to wish Elise a happy birthday.

While conference groups were in action, I took a look around the school next door to the worship hall.  The whole facility had belonged to a Government-run supermarket, and the church had secured it use after it became redundant to the store's purposes.  It's a great asset, and well utilized.

Off a central corridor there are seven classrooms and two staff rooms.  The noise is substantial but not intrusive.  I recalled the blind children in Yangon practising all their lessons by vocal repetition.

Simon, the techie, was hunched behind his administrator desktop in the Internet Cafe, trying to get the laser printer drivers to load.  In the end, to get handout copies, we just installed the printer on my laptop, and it all worked fine.  These facilities, with the broadband, will make a world of difference to everyone involved.

After lunch, which included kapenta, we did another Q&A session, with more nudges about Multiply handing out some funds (which we don't).  I introduced a song, using Viv's ukulele.  We rounded off on the subject of fathering and about an hour's prayer response time. 

Steven cleared the delegates out of the hall so his church could get their weeking prayer time rolling.  The eight-lady backing group was in fine voice, and my phone sound meter hit 111 decibels. 

Len announced he needed a haircut.  So we all piled into George's van and found a suburban shopping centre, taking a circuit round the Copperbelt Univerity on the way.  Farayi found us some roasted maize at a wayside stall while we waited.  Len paid 20 kwacha, just over £2.  Then we headed off to Steven's home, where Jimmie was due to interview him on video.  Len finally got his dongle to connect.  He purred contentedly sipping Rooibosh and uploading photos until his laptop battery died. 

Tomorrow we leave for Lusaka.  Jimmie has decided to stay on here in Kitwe to get computer facilities up and running for Ali.  She starts her English literacy sessions in earnest on Monday.  I hear that there are new sections of road, but also new speed restrictions.  I'm already suffering with a sore back, and seven hours jammed in an overcrowded coach sounds like a challenge.  Over our late meal, Steven says it's breakfast as usual at 8.00am and we leave town at 9.30am: We shall see.

tiply Zambia 2014 Day Two - Thursday

A strange tune was playing from Len's side of the room.  It stopped, and I slept again.  Then the tune started up anew.  Len had bought an MTN SIM card for his data dongle: "I couldn't get it to stop," he conceded.  But 'it' wasn't his dongle, it was Gladys' mobile phone, that she'd forgetfully left in the bedroom.  And because of the commitment to round-the-clock prayer times, she had alarms set for 4.30am and 5.30am.  Meanwhile, Len had thought 'it' was my travel alarm.  Thus we were pitched into the day, whether we'd sufficiently caught up on sleep or not.

Steven excused himself from breakfast so he could dash down to the church and keep an eye on registration and other preparations.  He'd thoughtfully arranged for a sheet stretched over a wooden frame to be set up for our projector screen.  I had oats and hot milk, and Len had toast and Marmite.  He was missing his favourite de-caff tea.

George arrived with his van, and we took a circuitous route to pick up the other four.  They'd obviously enjoyed every minute with their respective hosts.  Hannah and Ali related with relish having tracked down and squashed two mosquitoes.  Their approach had been less genocidal than Len's toxic spray.

Steven's church had been repainted and now boasts a perimeter wall.  Three years ago half the premises were unused, but now they run the school, a sewing workshop (equipped by Work-Aid) and the newly installed Internet Cafe for which we'd been raising funds.  It's all a creditable achievement, and a high standard.  First to greet us with his broad smile was Emil, who attended MILC UK in 2012.

The morning sessions went well, at 11.00am.  The remainder of the team shot off to see these other parts of the set-up, which they'll be immersed in for most of their stays.  They were thoughtful over lunch, especially Jimmie, which was probably a good sign.  We led the afternoon with a question and answer session, which responded well to what the hundred-plus delegates wanted to hear about.  Church businesses came high on the agenda.  Len rounded off with a hearty presentation on servant leadership, and we sent everyone home with a question to think about ready for our opening workshop tomorrow.

The band assembled for a practise, and Ali led a group of the children into the main hall for some spontaneous worship and dance.  This was what she'd come for.  "Is your heart broken, yet?" I asked Hannah.  She nodded.

We took a leisurely trip back into town to buy a few things from an Airtel staff and the busy Shoprite, and then reached Steven's home again.  He returned, looking tired, at a slightly more civilised hour than yesterday, but in a heavy rainstorm  We enjoyed beef stew and rice, rounded off with fresh fruit.  I explained about my partial church discipline, and Steven grunted his understanding about getting over-stressy when you let problems mount up.  We planned tomorrow's sessions, including a lot of group work on leadership teams.  Another heavy rain storm

Len had spent all evening unsuccessfully trying to get his dongle to - er, dong?  I quickly precis'd some PowerPoints to print as handouts, and went to bed.

Multiply Zambia 2014 Day One - Wednesday

I woke up at 4.00am with Len poking my shoulder and announcing breakfast was about to be served.  Dawn broke.  We landed in to Nairobi JKIA early, which brought no real benefit because we'd only have to hang around longer for our connection at 9.10am.  I must learn to be grateful when things go unexpectedly better than planned.  The airport seems to have recovered from last year's bad fire, and there's a large extension to the terminal block being built.

Most of us just flaked out, but Len went on the trail to find out about data dongles.  I explained that a fun game was to guess the nationality of white people, and not just to assume they're British.  At least Nairobi boasts a decent phone network service.  The onward flight was delayed by an hour, but I was able to give Steven a regular update.

I got jammed in a seat with no view, but Hannah was able to watch Tanzania pass below us for a good two hours.  "You'll enjoy the facilities at Ndola's International Airport," I joked.  What I remember as being a blue tin hut that passes off as Arrivals, was in fact white and blue.  Immigration Control had installed (painfully slow) biometric face and hand capture, but the baggage handling was as chaotic as three years ago.  The afternoon was slipping by. 

Pastor Lazarus took four of us in his Nissan 4x4 seven seater; David and George, Steven's son-in-law, took the remainder in his Toyota equivalent.  I got a phone signal, straight away, too.  Zambia's economy has been moving up, whatever's been happening in UK and elsewhere.  We'd see it in the new building work, in shops (now stocking baby buggies!), and advertising space, too.

We trundled past the now-finished Chinese-built sports stadium, the 'Slave Tree' and Hammerskjold memorial, and soon arrived at the familiar outskirts of Kitwe.  Getting Airtel SIM cards and changing our cash of (new) kwachas was first priority.   We called in at a fast food eatery and ordered KFC (Kitwe Fried Chicken), meanwhile dashing across to the Ecobank before the 4.00pm closing time.  Jimmie was befriending David.  In yet another slow queue, had plenty of time to do so.  On our return, the chicken was cold.  But that's a relative statement, as the outside temperature was 25C.  It dropped dramatically as a thunderstorm broke while we were buying some bottled water. 

Eventually we reached Steven's home, an ex-mining company rented bungalow along an un-made-up road.  The planned sleeping arrangements were Len and me here, Ali and Hannah with George and Yvonne, and Jimmie and Farayi with another church couple, Matthew and Sharon.  This was everything we'd hoped for, and has proved brilliant.  Steven's and Gladys's garden boasts an orange tree, an avocado pear, and two guava trees.  And a rusting Mercedes saloon on bricks round the back.  They live with their younger daughter, Natasha, and Gladys's sister and mother. 

Len and I threw stuff out of our cases all round our room.  Thirty hours of travelling were over.  Len unearthed his top-toxicity insect spray, but we had to retreat to the hallway coughing as he delivered an overzealous blast.  He didn't really know how much would work.  Then he headed for the bathroom for a quick freshen up with the available cold water.  He warned me not to stand in the bath as the tub was rusted through and seemed to be emptying onto the floor.  I hung my mosquito net from the ceiling with its natty pulley system, and pegged down the corners with wire coathangers.

Still no sign of Steven.  Pastor Lazarus had explained that the whole church is in a 28-day season of prayer and fasting (dawn to dusk), with hours of prayer being 'manned' more or less through the night, like a 'prayer watch'.  Steven had been to this at the church, and had called in to see Ali and Hannah before heading home.

I got stuck into some teaching preparation around the theme 'church of the firstborn' (Hebrews 12:23.  Just after 8.00pm my eyelids were drooping and I decided to have a rest.  I knew we'd need to have an intensive planning session with Steven before finally calling it a day.  Steven arrived and didn't want to wake me up, but Len knew the score.  We did a walk-through on everything up to arriving in Malawi next Tuesday.  Steven said that all the stuff that had tantalisingly gone missing - six boxes of books, and the budget advance funds - had all come through just yesterday.  So, we were off!  Steven promised there'd be a prompt start at 10.00am tomorrow.

I slid under my 'tent' a happy man, while more heavy rain beat on the roof.