Multiply Zambia 2014 Day Fifteen - Wednesday

Marriotti Hotel has been a good location for us.  Our flight out is at 14.55, so we have a good chunk of time to occupy ourselves.  Len want to get some 'ethnic' shirts for his boys in Brighton, so it's time to head for the markets.   Dar es Salaam has a long trading history - at one time disreputably for slaves.  Of all the cities I've visited here in Africa it most feels like India.  But then, Mumbai is the next place to the east.    

As ever, Jacob knows where to go, and we park right in the middle of Kariako market.  In the bright sun this bustling colourful district is a picture.  We weave in and out of the stalls and note the keen prices.  Shopping done, Jacob tries to back out the car.  The lady traffic attendant is joined by several traders determined not to have to move their carefully laid-out wares.  Once we're on the move, we notice it's just a crawl.  Steven advises it's best to head out of town to make sure we get to check-in in good time. 

We stop for a stroll around another cluster of shops, then unload in the Airport carpark  There's a TS20,000 fine if you straddle the white lines.  JNIA has the air of a run-down East Midlands railway station.  I ask Rukundo a question that's been on my mind for two years: whether he'd ever seen getting currency from an ATM.  He gives me an ambiguous answer, suggesting it was the sheer amount of cash (TS1.3M or thereabouts) that startled him.

We give big hugs all round to Steven, Jacob and Ps Luvanda.  I feel a certain contentment that we've made some good progress for the Kingdom of God. 

It's just an hour to Nairobi, and the plane isn't even half full.  In classic African aviation style, they leave when they're ready, not when scheduled; in this case a good ten minutes early.  We're wondering if Gregory and I will get a chance to see the Kitwe party - arriving about the same - in the Transfer lounge.  But we're separated onto different shuttle buses and have to say our farewells to Rukundo and Len on the airstrip.

Our lift is waiting, so I quickly change £50 for Kenya shillings and we head for Nairobi's evening rush-hour crawl.  They've been smartening the place up.  Even the un-made-up road passing Gregory's house in Uthiru, part of Kabete, is due to be tarmac'd.  Judith's glad to see Gregory home, and I'm introduced to the rest of the household.  There's Oscar, their 17-year-old son, whom I didn't recognise from two years ago.  Then Macleen and her two girls Annabelle and Brianna, and finally Helen.  Clearly, there's not enough space for me, too, but we're going to eat before I need to worry about this.  

Citizen television is giving a lot of coverage to the University Lecturers' strike, and it's nice not to be beseiged with Nigerian soaps that dominate elsewhere, and seem entirely to consist of husbands and wives falling out even though they go to church.  I test out my phone tethering, and it's just about workable.

Gregory has booked me into a new fully-furnished Sundowner apartment block reasonably nearby, down a bumpy un-made-up road.  One of a block of eight, it's got a lounge, kitchen and two bedrooms.  I could have made my own breakfast!  Ruefully, I notice there's no mozzi net and no way I could hang one from the concrete block ceiling.  I struggle to sleep, trying to keep my head inside my repellant-impregnated sleeping bag liner.  I get up several times to work out if I can get a decent climate without opening windows - meanwhile it rains heavily.

Multiply Zambia 2014 Day Fourteen - Tuesday

I take an early cup of tea into the thatched disco-come-restaurant at the back of the hotel, where live music had been playing to goodness-knows-what time on Saturday and Sunday night.  Seeing my bed empty, Rukundo thinks I'm in the en-suite bathroom, and hovers around for half an hour before plucking up courage to stick his head round the door.  I'm determined to pack as much as possible into today.

There are more delegates, and the attentiveness and engagement is much better.  The weather seems a little cooler, too (29C rather than 32C).  The groups go well and we've ploughed through some good stuff. first on money and then on leadership.

Last night, before Rukundo and I resumed our deep conversation, Steven and I had reviewed the trip's finances.  He's done really well to keep in line with budgets, but, if anything, has been let down by local folks not gripping the catering arrangements and costs.  In the overall balance, it's not a show-stopper.  And both Rukundo and Gregory have benefitted from seeing Steven's different way of running the conferences. 

Bishop Bartholomew is translating for Len.  They chat together as the groups work on stuff, and Len finds him very receptive.  Bishop Mwasota, gives thanks for the lunch, which is even later than yesterday.   This has been a significant couple of days.  We're through by 5.00pm, and folks have gone home happily clutching handouts Steven has arranged.  I've transferred a lot of stuff onto USB sticks, too.  Len and I chat to the young guys who've been doing the techie work.  They've been amused by the ukulele.

"Same place as last night?" Steven suggested; "Although, I'd like to look for somewhere new."  He really is a restless man, and I admire this in him.  We're all agreed, except for the prospect of being jammed in the Previa for another Turkish Bath and spine-jolting endurance test on Dar es Salaam's many un-made-up roads.  "Straight there!" is the chorus.  It's been hot, even for the Africans.  Len has goat meat and chapatis again, and we celebrate with Stoney, the ginger beer pop. 

Steven plans to cut short his stay-over and go back to Kitwe on Thursday.  The flight change cost $50, but Gladys and all will be pleased to see him.  I wonder about our future activities here.  Jacob is a resourceful guy, but his wife and family are still back in Zambia.  Ps Luvanda is a lovely guy, and well occupied in what he's presently administering.  John Said and Bartholomew have been very drawn to us.  As Rukundo and I are packing, John Said appears to say 'goodbye'.  Today he'd been tendering to run some English language training for the business they have set up, and had missed the sessions.

Something's going to take shape.

Multiply Zambia 2014 Day Twelve - Sunday

Hello, hello, we've got a muezzin again - 5.20am.  Of course I could miss breakfast to fit in preparation for church this morning, now that I know the score.  But we've agreed we'll all convene back at the hotel at 1.00pm and then go to the beach for lunch, so I'd prefer to have started the day with something inside me.

It seems unreal that with the three hours time difference, we'll have got our 7.45am-10.15am service over before folks in UK are thinking of getting up.  Rukundo and I are at Bishop David's Nabioth Church.  He's General Secretary of the Tanzanian equivalent of UK Evangelical Alliance.   He's a portly and affable brother.  As we'll discover - today's his birthday. 

Arriving at ten to eight, a lady in a pale green two-piece is already getting the crowds warmed up on the dance floor in front of the expansive platform. I can't help noticing that two thirds of the congregation appears to be women.  She is followed by a little guy in a jacket and bright red shirt who boogies and hops theatrically, gyrating on the heels of his obligatory black winkle-pickers.  (I could write a whole blog about preachers' shoes.)  Bishop beams generously.  Next comes a lady in a frothy dark red outfit.  I'm beginning to relax about the fact that I only intend to talk for 15-20 minutes, although Bishop has proposed 50 minutes will be available before the prompt 10.00am finish.  We still have to fit in the offertories, the children's talk, testimony time and introductions.   

What happens next catches me out.  Red lady begins to shimmy towards the Bishop.  A crowd of ladies follow her, with five guys in tow holding cameras aloft.  "Happy Birthday," I can make out through the 80+ decibels.  The Bishop's beam broadens.  He stands at the platform front with his wife, while 'blessings' are pressed into his hands by a queue of affectionate members.  As we move on to the children's talk, an usher discreetly removes the pile of crumpled notes from in front of the lectern, and Mrs Bishop counts them into a neat bundle at the dignatories' side table where we're sitting.

Rukundo asides to me during the testimony time as we've been going an hour and a half and there hasn't been a break from Swahili.  As the Bishop prays for them we're pushing 90 decibels.  Later I find that the worship leaders also receive a 'blessing' for their ministry.  Rukundo follows me at twenty to ten and we deliver on time.  Afterwards, in the Bishop's office, we enjoy a cup of coffee, each made with four sachets of full cream powdered milk, and bread and runny honey applied with a spoon.  I must try that again some time. 

Rukundo and I slip down to the hotel restaurant and enjoy a mango juice.  1.00pm passes and eventually Len and Gregory arrive.  Their 10.00am meeting finished at 1.00pm, and Len has been given a 'blessing' equivalent to £10.  Time goes by and I try to ring Steven.  My phone has alternately connected - with Internet - to both Airtel and Zantel, but only through the latter can I ring out.  "Samahani," the nice lady keeps saying as I repeatedly fail to connect.  He arrives at quarter to three, hot and apologetic.  He didn't get to begin his preach until 1.00pm (but his 'blessing' was $25).

We pile into Jacob's Toyota Previa, and head of for rest and adventure.  We drive past the Landmark Hotel of 2012's visit fame, and the central Barclay Bank branch, too.  We pull off the road into the Atrium, an Arabic-style restaurant with tables set out under palm trees.  Eventually we order, and an hour passes with no sign of a meal arriving.  We're filling in the time with an animated conversation about how Multiply could do better at facilitating the visa process for UK conference invitees, and how to get Rukundo kitted out with a minibus.  He's just been given a 23-year-old-car, which is somewhat inadequate for the community of 18 adults and 28 children.

Another hour passes.  In half an hour the light will begin to fade, and lunch will turn into an evening meal.  Our table represents half the customers.  The trip to the beach has been sabotaged, and after we've finally eaten we drive round the waterfront struggling to make out any significant features.  We arrive back at the hotel glad of the aircon.  Manchester City versus Wigan blares from two large TV screens.  Steven suggests a drink of tea all round.  Another impossibly long wait follows.   I take a cup up to the room and collapse into bed.

Multiply Zambia 2014 Day Eleven - Saturday

I had a restless night.  During the power cuts our fan had stopped, and the room was hot and stuffy.  Although we'll be on-the-go until past 10.0pm tonight, I cut my losses and had a shower and got on with packing.   Ali had rung to say they'd hit a few problems in Kitwe.  There'd been a mix-up about who was looking after the children, and meals had been missed and one kiddy was poorly - probably malaria.  The set-up desperately needs the house parents to be on-site that the church had first planned for.  Ali and Hannah were running out of money, too, so I sent some with Farayi who'll be seeing Jimmie.  We said goodbye to Calla Lily Lodge - it's been a good choice. 

On the way to the Airport I rang Rukundo - as I had Gregory yesterday - to ensure he's all sorted out for our rendezvous en route to Dar es Salaam.  Our flight from Kamazu Airport to Nairobi was very smooth, once we'd located Steven.  He'd gone to an Airtel counter to see if he could send some urgent SMS messages. 

At JKIA, Nairobi, I got an Internet connection on my phone, but couldn't manage to tether to my laptop in time to make much use before we were called to get ready for moving to Gate 04.  Gregory was keeping us waiting, but finally made it onto the plane in time.  This was an Embraer 190, and from Len's window seat he got a clear view of Kilimanjaro an the summit poked through through the cloud cover.

We collected our bags at Julius Nyerere Airport and started to hunt for Rukundo.  Steven spotted him on the staircase and we soon headed for our hotel by taxi through the thick and dusty traffic.  Marriotti Hotel lies just off the main Mandela Road highway.  We decided to mix-and-match the room sharing: I'm with Rukundo, Gregory and Len are together, and Steven - who is most unconventional - is in a single room. 

We quickly gather downstairs to eat with Pastor Luvanda and Steven's brother Jacob.  My memory of Tanzanian food was the delicious beef stew and fearsome Changu fish.  Both are available!  Steven overplays his hand in Swahili, and asking for fish with boiled potatoes wrongly juxtaposes the adjectives and nouns.  As he's presented with a dish of boiled fish, Gregory laughs hugely.

We plan out the next day's church visits (Rukundo and I get a 8.00am start), and the two days of the conference.  My only worry is that the topics lean heavily towards what I've introduced so far.  It going to be a squeeze to give the other guys a fair slice of the action.

I find the air-con is set to 16C, which is ridiculous, but it doesn't seem to moderate its icy blast when to set the temperature higher.  My night's sleep is restless again- this time I'm too cold!