Last days...

We spend our last days quietly, in talking, reading, discussing car repairs at great length and in admirable detail. My heart gladdens at these discussions: how thankful I am that Jonny has his dad’s expertise to draw on, along with Byron’s supportive presence just a short distance away. This is in Tanzanian terms: over one and a half hours’ drive on the other side of Arusha. At home in Guernsey, anything more than 15 or 20 minutes seems like a long safari – how quickly we adjust.

A nearby lodge – Rivertrees, the last convenient tourist stop before Kilimanjaro Airport – is a pleasant venue for an afternoon drink by the river. We marvel at the trees – huge figs sending their aerial roots down in search of water. I spot a ‘first’ – a black-backed shrike, its astonishingly bright red eye peeping out from the bushes next to us.

And, of course, there is the swimming pool. Bees perch busily on the lane dividers, some unwittingly taking dives into the water, swimming furiously to safety. Scarlet dragonflies swoop and dive across the surface, hitting it with a smack before zooming on. European rollers perch atop the tennis court fence, four of them, evenly spaced, waiting for the insects thrown up by the newly cut grass. Wahlberg’s eagles soar and call, settling in the fig near the entrance to the school. Mount Meru plays peek-a-bo behind clouds, thermals constantly forming and re-forming.

Half a dozen arrow-marked babblers invade the garden, chit-chattering, hopping around, venturing at times onto the verandah and into the living room. A couple of immature birds constantly ask for food, jumping on the others. Mouse-birds congregate on a young muringa tree, stripping the new young shoots. It’s a good thing that the muringa grows so quickly...

From the verandah early in the morning we watch a pair of white-browed coucals ponderously flapping on and off the hedge, catching insects and, in one lucky instance, a small toad which has unwarily ventured out on to the grass. Variable sunbirds, with their iridescent green caps and bright crimson breasts, flit around the acacia branches while a fiscal shrike constantly swaps between the lawn and the verandah roof. Never have I seen one for so long at such close quarters. To cap it all, we spot a tiny wren-like bird in the bougainvillea hedge: an African penduline tit. A first.

The birds have been fantastic – so many, such variety all in one place, up-country and dry country birds all in one environment. This, we think, is what Paradise will be like...

We prepare to go home with full hearts, countless happy memories, relationships renewed... and an inordinate number of tsetse fly and midge bites, with the odd small mosquito bite to add in to the mix.

Africa.

And then, it was time to leave. It had been the most incredibly relaxing time, our days filled with reading, swimming and enjoying the bird life.

Yesterday it had rained. Good African rain, first a drizzle then, under a black sky, a heavy downpour. The thunderous noise of raindrops hitting the tin roof brought back memories...

The air was fresh, the soil damp, the atmosphere calm.

Today, a cloudy morning gave way to sunshine. A last swim, while Jonny took his car to have new rear shock absorbers fitted - a somewhat stressful process, in that the wrong type had been ordered and so Jonny had to go back later. #nothingstraightforwardinAfrica

Packed up. Emma's house, where we had been staying, cleaned. A last lunch at Rivertrees Country Inn, on the way to the airport. So relaxed.

I thought I was ready to go home, back to 'normal' life. End of holidays.

But I wasn't. Oh, I had had a great holiday and felt ready for work, but I wasn't ready to leave Jonny and Adele.

Goodbyes could not be lingering. Quick hugs, then we were in the hot queue to get in to Kilimanjaro Airport and then through the long check-in and immigration process. Only an hour from start to finish.

The goodbyes were bad enough... but I was unprepared for what happened as I walked out of the terminal building to cross the tarmac towards the plane. I was overwhelmed by tears. Throwing myself down to claw at the ground, screaming to stay, suddenly seemed like an option.

I didn't, of course. I struggled to contain my tears, dutifully climbing on to the plane, quietly weeping unobtrusively as we took off past Kilimanjaro, the two peaks of Kibo and Mawenzi soaring above the clouds.

I don't understand why my heart is breaking again.

Kiwi wedding #7 Godincidences

One of the joys of visiting New Zealand is the connections we always seem to find.

It's not difficult, in some ways. Christians connect, Guerns travel...there is always someone who knows someone who knows someone else...

Today, two delightful meetings.

We tore ourselves away from lovely Ohope and made good time to Auckland - so much so, that we were early for our meeting with Cat. So we rocked up to her friend Gael's house, prepared to wait outside, but realised that Gael's sister and brother-in-law were at home.  So were Gael's parents, Ian and Linda.

Originally from Zimbabwe, they moved to New Zealand and now live in Australia.  Before I knew it, I discovered that Ian Spence had been one of Aldwyth and Renee Cowan's young men who would gather at their house on a Sunday for lunch and Bible study. Not only that, but he was the same age as Renee's daughter, Wendy.  Renee has been one of my closest friends since I arrived on Guernsey over eleven years ago: she is my mentor, my guide, my inspiration and my encouragement and I love her. And I loved connecting with friends from Renee's past.

And then I discovered that Linda's father had worked on the same nuclear power stations as my father had done - we threw the names around with familiarity...

Later, I met a friend of one of Cat's flatmates. 'You're from Guernsey?' she asked.  'Do you know the Parkes family...?' And of course I do. She had been at Hillsong college in Sydney and had worked with Chris and Tash Parkes, son and daughter-in-law of my dear friend Ros...

...and just today I had an email from a friend who knows Andy's parents, Sue and Allan, from when they all lived in Arusha, Tanzania....after I had read a book which profiles and praises my friend Lisa's father, Denny Repko, who, in his eighties, is still serving in the Navigators' ministry.

I love these God-connections. His family is worldwide and He loves to connect his children together...

'Sisters'

24 hours ago they were here. Leaving them at the airport felt very strange. Wrong, somehow.

Leaving my ‘sisters’.

These dear friends – a friendship which goes back nearly thirty years – came to visit. Our days were filled with laughter, reminisces, secrets told, more laughter…

Days of wonder, as we looked at the Little Chapel, so lovingly crafted out of shells and fragments of porcelain and pottery.

Days of exhaustion, walking the steepness of the cliffs. Marvelling at the birds soaring above us, the tiny flowers clinging to the spare soil beneath our feet.

Days of laughter, when we couldn’t stop smiling for the joy of being together – especially when we met up with Alan, also a friend from Kenya days. I’d kept it a surprise for them. Their shrieks of amazement and delight, when they met him on Herm as we stepped off the boat from Guernsey, brought smiles to the faces of strangers.

Days of enjoying the sun, the sand, the shells and the sea air.

Days of eating and drinking in celebration of a birthday, a reunion, thanksgiving for the years then and now.

Days of the comfort of being known so intimately that there seemed to be nothing we couldn’t talk about and share with each other. Days when we realized that there are very few others who we love so much that we feel as close as family.

We plan to meet up again soon. Because leaving felt so very, very strange.

Leaving my ‘sisters’.

Africa Day reviewed

After all that hard work, I still had no idea how the day would go. But it was BRILLIANT. The activities ran like clockwork. A small army of mums occupied the kitchen and science lab, showing the children how to cook vegetable stew and chapatis. By 12.45pm, every child in the school had done some cooking. Elsewhere, children were busy compiling project files on a particular African country (we looked at 8 different countries altogether), making masks, learning Swahili, singing songs, or listening to traditional stories in the 'grandmother's hut' - a corner of the library bedecked with blankets and all kinds of baskets and other artefacts, including a huge drum made out of wood and goatskin.

The fire alarm went off mid-morning - twice. It was the fault of the chapatis, which were busy burning. We had to evacuate the buildings each time before we could all go back and carry on. It all added to the excitement of the day.

Later, we covered a map of Africa with coins and then held the teacher auction, raising money for the Tumaini Fund. Over £800 was raised to help AIDS orphans and widows in this remote part of Tanzania. The highlight of the day was seeing my friend Candy and I throw water balloons at each other - two boys had won this privilege and we generously let them join in. The screams of delight every time we scored a hit were heard several streets away!

The children are still talking about it. The newspaper wrote it up. Me? I can't wait for next year!

Updating

This post is for David, my college friend. I thought I had kept him up to date with our movements, but evidently I hadn't. So here we are:

2000. Our family leaves Kenya for Britain, amid much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Our son dubbed it the Exodus - except that we didn't feel we were off to a Promised Land. It took over half a dozen years to begin to get over our feelings of bereavement.

2001 - 2003. After much culture shock and eventually adapting to life in England (Rugby, Warwickshire, for those knowledgeable of town and county), Jonny and Cat got good GCSEs, Angie got trained up - via a variety of supply, temporary and part-time teaching positions - in the vagaries of the National Curriculum. And Richard recovered from a nasty illness and got a job in... Guernsey, flying tiny Trislander planes inbetween the Channel Islands, England and France.

2004 - 2008. A levels, gap year jobs in the finance industry in Guernsey and then among the poor in Peru and Mozambique, and then uni for Jonny and Cat; Angie beavers away at the chalkface, enjoying teaching small boys.

So there we are. 9 years in a few paragraphs. We hope to stay here for a while, but who knows? Our life here is dependent on our jobs; in the current economic climate, we are grateful to have jobs we both love and be part of a vibrant island community.

There is no future in regretting what is past
nor in worrying about the future.
The present is there for our enjoyment.

I do not miss... and yet I do.

I do not miss
Waking at night,
Heart afraid
Mind racing
Skin crawling with the sweat of fear.

I do not miss
The tension of a drive
On a simple errand
Looking around
Wondering if I am the next
To be hijacked

I do not miss
Having to deal with
Poverty in my face
At my gate
Looking in my door
When I am helpless to help

I do not miss
Living stretched
In a society of gross inequality
The uncaring fat cats
Treading on the powerless

I do NOT miss these things.

Yet I miss

Laughter in the face of adversity
Smiling faces
Reflecting the joy of simply being alive

Compassion in misfortune
The kindness in the night
Of strangers to the unknown

Generosity from those who have
Scarcely enough for themselves
Not enough to share, too little to give away

An irrepressible optimism
A gentle trust in a God
Who loves us more than we can ever know.

I miss these things.

Decisions, decisions

Sometimes it's really hard marking decisions.

Sometimes, just deciding whether or not to have another cup of coffee takes a little thought.

Sometimes that's just ridiculous.

A cup of coffee? For heaven's sake.

For heaven's sake, the price of a cup of coffee can make the difference between life and death.

Sometimes I need to decide very very carefully about that cup of coffee.

Weird times

This time of year is really strange. It's the run up to Christmas, so there is a lot going on at school - performances, parties, decorations... - and it can all get rather hectic. The children become more and more excited.

As in previous years, our classroom has an Advent calendar - with a difference. Rather than 'getting' - a chocolate, sweet or other treat - on opening each day in the calendar. the class are giving. Each day, some of the children bring some money to help support the Tumaini project for AIDS widows and orphans in Tanzania. The children take turns to count and record the total for each day. At the end of term, we'll send the money off. It's a local project, started by some of the doctors here: a married couple who used their sabbatical a few years ago to work in a mission hospital there.

Just £1 is enough to feed, clothe and educate a child for a whole week. Just over £50 for the year. Every penny given goes to Tanzania - the two doctors do all the administration and cover any costs themselves.

Some of the children have really taken to this idea. It is touching to see their interest grow daily. An emphasis away from the 'give me' culture we have here.