We rattled and bumped down the un-made-up road from the Shell Garage in Jinja, until the gates of Arise Lodge appeared. Pastor Andrew had manfully met us at 3.30am, and we milled around sorting our rooms without doing a proper check-in. I'd dozed along the way, but Viv (driving) and Gregory had stayed awake in the front of the minibus. I'd hoped for a shower, but the power wasn't connected, so I opted for a couple of hours sleep before we assembled for the leaders' breakfast at 9am.
Now adjusted to the two-hour time difference from UK, I woke up before 7am and got the lady on reception to scrounge some hot water from the kitchen as a consolation prize for our non-functioning shower. Downstairs, there was coffee! Arise Africa runs the guest lodge and various enterprises to support its ministry: one is coffee growing. At 9.30am we had 15 people present and formalities began. By late morning the attendance had risen to 35.
Rukundo showed me a long message from Cornelius expressing his angst over the whole change of programme. "If God overturned our plans, then let's believe it's for a better purpose." I offered, though not entirely convinced in my own mind. Gregory approached. "If we finish at a reasonable time, we can make the journey to Magodes and return here at night." I'd been confused, thinking that we were due to be in Kampala tonight, and Viv and I had fully packed our luggage. It was a good proposal.
We finished the session at 12pm prompt, and the leaders loaded up with fruit, mandazi and boiled eggs. Then we led a question and answer time, which Gregory steered very well. Somewhat doubtfully, I handed Ps Andrew $450 for catering in Kampala. We chided Rukundo to get on with messaging Cornelius that the local folks in Magodes should expect us at 5pm.
By 2.30pm we were on the main road back to Tororo, with heavy-footed Charles at the wheel. Jinja sits on the edge of Lake Victoria and is the source of the Nile. (In fact, it flows about 100 metres from our back garden.)
What awaited us in Magodes was delightful. After we'd got directions from a bunch of young guys hawking their fruit, We parked, and wound along a track past a mud and brick school, with the chanting of children at their lessons. Pastors from several local churches had gathered in a similarly-constructed tabernacle: Resurrection Power Church. Many of the homes are round, thatched, huts, all set amidst banana trees (which I have come to refer to more correctly as plantain), and cultivate vegetable plots. "Look out for snakes," Gregory warned, as there were various sissing and chirping noises from the bushes.
The little church building was overflowing, and several degrees warmer inside than the outside temperature. After exuberant worship, the beaming faces sang us a welcome song, which was followed by the customary round of introductions, appreciations and "by-the-grace-of-God"s. After each of the pastors, a slightly smarter guys spoke about a collaborative agricultural project they were embarking on. He stressed how this was an initiative of unity: they have already combined their inherited plots to make the land available.
The tradition of these folks is the 'balakole' (born agains) of the East Africa revival. I'd read a lot about them after the visit to Rwanda in 2012, and it touched me deeply to catch their spirit and genuineness. The link we have is through Cornelius, as his wife is from this district.
We'd explained that we could only stay with them about two hours, and this soon passed. On invitation, I prayed that God would sustain their unity, bless them with wealth creation grace, and open a way for a deeper expression of community. In my heart, I felt they are worthy inheritors of our vision.
We travelled back in the dark. After pulling in for petrol we began to think about something to eat before it was too late. Len and Viv vainly fancied pizza. In the event, we hit Jinja without anything promising appearing at the roadside. Someone directed us down a side street near the main market, and we found the 'Tasty Chicken' that still appeared to be open for business. We ordered and waited. Margaret, who had hitched a lift with us to this point, sliced up a large water melon. After 40 minutes, the waitress returned. She quietly explained to Gregory that they could only do five of the seven meals. "Then bring those, and we'll share them." She looked blank. "I think she's trying to say," Len guessed, "that we're not getting anything..." He was right.
Now past midnight, we gave up and trooped off back to Arise Lodge. Let's hope that tomorrow brings us better fare in Kampala.
Now adjusted to the two-hour time difference from UK, I woke up before 7am and got the lady on reception to scrounge some hot water from the kitchen as a consolation prize for our non-functioning shower. Downstairs, there was coffee! Arise Africa runs the guest lodge and various enterprises to support its ministry: one is coffee growing. At 9.30am we had 15 people present and formalities began. By late morning the attendance had risen to 35.
Rukundo showed me a long message from Cornelius expressing his angst over the whole change of programme. "If God overturned our plans, then let's believe it's for a better purpose." I offered, though not entirely convinced in my own mind. Gregory approached. "If we finish at a reasonable time, we can make the journey to Magodes and return here at night." I'd been confused, thinking that we were due to be in Kampala tonight, and Viv and I had fully packed our luggage. It was a good proposal.
We finished the session at 12pm prompt, and the leaders loaded up with fruit, mandazi and boiled eggs. Then we led a question and answer time, which Gregory steered very well. Somewhat doubtfully, I handed Ps Andrew $450 for catering in Kampala. We chided Rukundo to get on with messaging Cornelius that the local folks in Magodes should expect us at 5pm.
By 2.30pm we were on the main road back to Tororo, with heavy-footed Charles at the wheel. Jinja sits on the edge of Lake Victoria and is the source of the Nile. (In fact, it flows about 100 metres from our back garden.)
What awaited us in Magodes was delightful. After we'd got directions from a bunch of young guys hawking their fruit, We parked, and wound along a track past a mud and brick school, with the chanting of children at their lessons. Pastors from several local churches had gathered in a similarly-constructed tabernacle: Resurrection Power Church. Many of the homes are round, thatched, huts, all set amidst banana trees (which I have come to refer to more correctly as plantain), and cultivate vegetable plots. "Look out for snakes," Gregory warned, as there were various sissing and chirping noises from the bushes.
The little church building was overflowing, and several degrees warmer inside than the outside temperature. After exuberant worship, the beaming faces sang us a welcome song, which was followed by the customary round of introductions, appreciations and "by-the-grace-of-God"s. After each of the pastors, a slightly smarter guys spoke about a collaborative agricultural project they were embarking on. He stressed how this was an initiative of unity: they have already combined their inherited plots to make the land available.
The tradition of these folks is the 'balakole' (born agains) of the East Africa revival. I'd read a lot about them after the visit to Rwanda in 2012, and it touched me deeply to catch their spirit and genuineness. The link we have is through Cornelius, as his wife is from this district.
We'd explained that we could only stay with them about two hours, and this soon passed. On invitation, I prayed that God would sustain their unity, bless them with wealth creation grace, and open a way for a deeper expression of community. In my heart, I felt they are worthy inheritors of our vision.
We travelled back in the dark. After pulling in for petrol we began to think about something to eat before it was too late. Len and Viv vainly fancied pizza. In the event, we hit Jinja without anything promising appearing at the roadside. Someone directed us down a side street near the main market, and we found the 'Tasty Chicken' that still appeared to be open for business. We ordered and waited. Margaret, who had hitched a lift with us to this point, sliced up a large water melon. After 40 minutes, the waitress returned. She quietly explained to Gregory that they could only do five of the seven meals. "Then bring those, and we'll share them." She looked blank. "I think she's trying to say," Len guessed, "that we're not getting anything..." He was right.
Now past midnight, we gave up and trooped off back to Arise Lodge. Let's hope that tomorrow brings us better fare in Kampala.
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