A failure in life and I can prove it!

Got the results from the (tropical) Doc yesterday - could have been better, could have been worse. She went through pages and pages of stuff, in a matter-of-fact kind of way, a bit like a teacher reading out your exam results. You know the kind of thing?

Teacher: Physics ... (long pause, whilst you look at the floor)... A.
               English... (equally long pause) ... E.

Only this time the report read a little differently:

Doctor: Malaria ... negative
             Bilharzia... negative
             Liver... fine
             Kidneys... they're fine too
             You do have a fungal infection on your foot, so we'll get you some tablets for that...

At this point, allow me to break away from the friendly Doc and confess that I am a failure in life. Yes, that's right, I have never completed a marathon. Failure. My brother's done it. My Dad's done it. I haven't. Just to really rub it in, my Dad's in training for another marathon this year. He's 70. Everyone else is playing bridge, whilst my father runs for four hours non-stop.

So what does that have to do with a fungal infection on the foot? Well, alas, it means that MY marathon training will HAVE to be delayed indefinitely. Shame. Every cloud really does have a silver lining.    

The Doc did have more news to share. It seems that I now have my fair share of tropical ailments - all part of the package. Looks like I have:

1. Typhus
2. An amoeba (somewhere within...)
3.Salmonella (yes, I've heard of that one)

Better take the tablets, I guess! At least it's not 'man flu'.

Like I said on my last post: I find it so reassuring that it is Jesus Christ who is in control. He died for me and for you (out of love for us), and he is in control. He cares about every detail of our lives and he is in control.

And we think we're in control

There's nothing quite like a conversation with a doctor to put you in your place. He's examined you and now the verdict. You are not in control. At all. Sure, you can argue: "But I feel fine." Nevertheless, if it's bad news, it's bad news. Non-negotiable.

As I'm on a break in Nairobi, I thought I'd get myself a health check in a popular travel clinic. Like you do. The doctor was thorough and suspects that I have a couple of infections. Gulp. Then the testing began: blood test, urine sample, stool sample, scraping sample (yes, really)... I find out the results next week. Strumming my fingers on the desk somewhat.



Now (Mum and Dad), I feel great, so I'm not expecting dramatic news next week, but it did make me think: we're not in control. How many people have sat facing the doctor and it IS bad news; terrible news? Too many. Friends of mine. We're not in control.

Give any man the remote control and see how he loves control. We love control, even though control is often taken away from us.

So who is in control?

I find it so reassuring that it is Jesus Christ who is in control. He died for me and for you, and he is in control. He cares about every detail of our lives and he is in control.

The Bible is very clear: Jesus is in control, even today. Check out the book of Colossians, chapter 1:

¹⁶ for through him (i.e. through Jesus) God created everything
    in the heavenly realms and on earth.
He made the things we can see
    and the things we can’t see—
such as thrones, kingdoms, rulers, and authorities in the unseen world.
    Everything was created through him and for him.
¹⁷ He existed before anything else,
    and he holds all creation together.

Jesus holds everything together, up to this second.

Jesus is in control.

Happy Good Friday!

First phone call at fourteen

Korr's a funny old place in some ways. Many people here have mobile phones, but there's never been any mobile reception. Never. Still, people keep charging up their phones, playing music on their phones, using the alarms on their phones, making the most of the torches on the end of their phones. But no one makes any mobile phone calls in Korr. Ever.

I know what you're thinking - sounds like heaven. No mobile phones = no rude interruptions. No people texting under the table. No people randomly giggling to themselves. Proper conversations. No ridiculous ring tones going off in the meeting? Bliss.

But if you have an emergency in Korr, you have to walk to get help. No mobile phone reception. Car breaks down in the middle of nowhere? Walk. Want to text a friend to see if you can meet? Walk. (Keeps you fit, I guess).

But this week, life has changed. Network is here. You can be connected. The wait is over. Suddenly the phone can be used (wait for it) AS A PHONE. Yes, actually talking to people using your phone. Even casually checking Facebook.

 

 

On my way home from school I was called over to a house: "We have network." It was local kids who had never seen a real phone in action. (Teenagers who had never seen a phone call before). Someone from Nairobi was speaking, somehow, through this device. Remarkable, when you've grown up and never seen it before.

 

All this talk of connecting got me thinking. What use is a phone if it is not actually used as a phone? Yes, you can do lots with it, but you have moved far away from the original point of a phone.

 

Bit like humans really. Made to connect with our Maker, to live for Him, to know Him and bring glory to Him. But we have moved so far away from that original purpose. Yes, we can do lots of clever things, but going back to basics, why are we actually here?

 

Joy erupted this week as phones were used in a way that goes all the way back to their original design.  

 

And our original design? To know God. To have a relationship with God. In the words of Jesus:

 

"Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent." (John 17v3)

 

How do we connect with God? In John 1 it tells us:

 

¹² But to all who believed him (i.e. believed in Jesus) and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God.

For a fuller explanation, try this link:

http://www.gotquestions.org/knowing-God.html

Thanks





Euphoria

Football pitch near the centre of town.

The pitch was ready; everything was in place for two days of fiercely fought football and volleyball. Every year it happens: the local school teams travel into Korr, where they battle it out for the chance to be declared Kings of Korr and to go on to the Regional Finals. We had teams for both sports, lads and lasses, who treated the occasion like their very own World Cup - putting on that serious face and chatting away in secretive circles. 


Mr Lesarge explains the regulations as our lads (right) look on nervously before their first game.

 

Having seen a lot of competitions like this in England, I couldn't help making comparisons. Obviously, the desire is there. The girls' football team was in ferocious mood: made me glad I was on the side-lines. Volleyball becomes a bit of a blame game, with team-mates staring, hands on hips: "Hey, that was YOUR shot" ..."Why didn't YOU leave it for ME." Just like England. I had to grin when, towards the end of the tournament, we even saw a U.S. import: the "soccer mom." Ladies, flexing on the edge of the pitch, bellowing at the players, eyes like blazing fire... you get the picture. What I wasn't expecting was the only thing that really makes for a proper game of football in England - rain!

 

 

 

 

 

A word about rain: beauty is in the eye of the beholder. In England, rain often feels like a curse: it is associated with innumerable sadnesses, dreary days, floods and events being cancelled. Whereas in Korr, people pray for rain - I've even found myself uttering a 'rain prayer' or two. We thank God for rain. Rain is a blessing. We want it to rain and never end. As the dry river beds began to fill, the sound of rushing water took my thoughts back to Derbyshire, if only for a moment. So rare to HEAR water round here. Maybe it's time you spent some time chilling out, next to a river near you? Beautiful and simple. In the words of Psalm 23:

 

¹ The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

²     He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
³     he refreshes my soul

 

Anyhow, on with the game. You have to be tough to play football in Korr: barefoot, bone-crunching challenges; scorching heat (on the second day); little sign of any water for teams at any point before or during the battles (although a bucket of orange squash did surface at one late stage); and two contests daily per team, of at least an hour.

 

 

 

So why call this post 'Euphoria'? Because of the final hour.

 

The best days are the ones where you never imagined it would be this good until you're right in the middle of it. This was one of those days. It was all lined up for a big finish: our girls had struggled, improved and reached the volleyball final; the boys strolled into the football final. The games were to be played right next to each other, simultaneously. Smiles of joy burst out across the girls' faces as they swept their opponents aside in a one-sided final. New nicknames were already being written (Pauline becoming Power-line etc). All eyes turned to the boys' encounter. Reduced to ten-men, they still held on for the win.

 

 

 

Now for the euphoria. As the feelings overflowed, hundreds of people invaded the pitch. This developed into a high-speed lap-of-honour, with the victorious players and fans shrieking some kind of battle cry, as they raced around the field. Somehow I was sprinting too - and loving it! After the whirlwind of bodies came to a natural stop, a march began down the centre of the pitch, with more shouting and singing, as the sun silently bled out and retreated behind the mountains again. You don't forget those days.

 

 

 

 

Always a good idea to say thank you

As a staff, we planned a thanksgiving day in recognition of new classrooms, hall, toilets and good results last year. But would many parents come? We don't really see many parents at school. The kids arrive and leave school alone each day. No one phones the school or picks their child up: there's no phone/electricity in school and very few vehicles in town. Maybe a few parents would come...

In reality, a kaleidoscope of colour marched towards school: hundreds of parents. Somehow, over a thousand people managed to sit or stand in our new hall, watching the children perform and then listening to about half a day's worth of speeches. It seemed as if anyone who had the ability to hold a microphone was up at the front at some point, sharing their thoughts. Like you do.

Some of the performances were amazing, but personally my attention was drawn to the scouts, who have been trained up by one of our new teachers. I used to march a bit myself as a member of the Boys' Brigade, you know... left, right, left, right. But what I saw in the hall was on a whole new level. Marshalled by a teenage commander, the troops flicked round effortlessly from one drill to the next, with an endless variety of combinations. Okay, I exaggerate, but still - this was intricate, impressive stuff. Frankly, it's a bit odd seeing Baden Powell's boys (and girls) going through the gears in the middle of the Kenyan desert, but who cares? The kids love it and I can't wait for the next time. Maybe we can invite Bear Grylls to see what he thinks?

 

 

And, of course, after the performances, the children could relax and enjoy themselves a little.

 

 

 

Evidence of alien life, with photographic proof...

Check out the photographic evidence. It's inevitable really, when you think about it. Aliens, rambling around the universe, looking for a location to plant a new colony, beginning with six metal pods. Thankfully, they stumble upon a largely uninhabited area of Kenyan desert - perfect. And so, under cover of darkness, they submerge their steel cells, full of civilians, equipped to colonise a new planet. Happens all the time...the truth is out there...

Okay, okay - how about the real story? What goes down must come up: the four toilets shared by about four hundred children and staff had become more than comfortably full. But we want the best for our kids, so Jim (US missionary) and his team of local guys spent a week digging slightly futuristic-looking facilities. It's hard to go to the lengths of calling long-drops "beautiful", but, surely, we are nearing the giddy heights. Shame I can't actually squat properly - still got a dodgy knee from a football kick-around last year.   

There now follow some pictures to show to any complacent kid in any well-resourced classroom in your country. Usually the intake for our school is about 60 children each year. This year? 150! We're an increasingly popular school and didn't have the heart to turn them away. So we don't have enough desks for the lower classes. That's another project for Jim and co: making desks. (Oh, to be a real handy-man like that, hey?). Can't wait to give them desks!!

You've got to admire the determination and resilience of these kids, doing their mid-term exams on the floor. Just LOOK at those photos! They know that education can open the door to an entirely different future, a brighter future. So they just get on with it!

 

 Christianity has to involve providing for the basic physical needs of people (toilets, desks, education, food). Makes me think of this brilliant quote from James 2:

 

¹⁴ What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don’t show it by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? ¹⁵ Suppose you see a brother or sister who has no food or clothing, ¹⁶ and you say, “Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well”—but then you don’t give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do?

¹⁷ So you see, faith by itself isn’t enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it is dead and useless.

"Everybody needs good neighbours..." Know the tune?

I'm hearing of record-breaking floods, ice-storms and that snow has fallen, snow on snow. Time to lift the mood. Meet some of my neighbours.

 

Meet Patience, daughter to a couple who are teaching at the school. The grin says it all.   

 

 

Her parents, John and Inviolate Oyugi, invited me round for chapattis at 2pm, which extended (somehow) to 630pm. Sitting on plastic chairs in the sunshine. Definitely mustn't grumble! John's pretty chilled out on a Saturday. Inviolate was cooking in cramped, oven-like conditions, but came out smiling.

 

 

Jim and Laura are my 'go to' people for advice and practicalities. Jim (below) coordinates all the building projects, from digging toilets, to building entire schools. Gifted, quiet, witty guy, with masses of experience. Commands the respect of his workers.

 

 

Laura, like Jim, is the model professional: hard-working, wise and kind. I caught her during a rare break from preparing lessons for the secondary school, baking delicious pastries. Smelt so good!

 

Noor (below) and myself share the same illness - we're both Man Utd fans. Still wondering why we trudged across the desert to watch our beloved team play out a 0-0 draw with Arsenal on Wednesday night. Because of time differences, the match ended here at a little before 1am. Beautiful moonlit night to walk back and talk about the game.

 

 

Like Noor, his wife, Lisa, speaks excellent English. Dowate is one of their daughters, pictured below.  

 

I teach their son, Lowa (pictured below, left) for ten lessons per week. My Sunday lunchtime tradition is to eat with Lowa and Chulayo (below, right). Then we read some Bible. These aren't your usual teenagers: they know that poverty is always under the surface in the outlying villages, so have just started taking food to the neediest people they know and then they preach.

 

In the words of Psalm 82v3:

 

Give justice to the poor and the orphan; 

uphold the rights of the oppressed and the destitute.
Rescue the poor and helpless...

 

They're off to another village tomorrow morning.

 

 

To stop this being an endless blog post, allow me to be brief with the remaining photos of a few other folks who live a stone's throw away...

 

 Below you can see the (ever-smiling) Head teacher (Letipo), followed by his four kids, then Joyce (his wife), expecting a fifth child next month. She is standing with the school librarian.

 

 

There are a few pastors living just around the corner: first up, we have Pastor Jamhuri (wife & 4 kids not pictured here); secondly, Pastor David (wife & numerous children also not in the shot... apologies); and finally a teacher from school, Lesarge, and his new wife, Esther. Plenty of houses flowing with chai and conversation.

 

 

 

Back home, I knew almost nothing about my neighbours. I mean, do you know many of your neighbours? Any? Such is the busyness of life in England, individualistic cultural patterns, alongside that good old British reserve, I never really got beyond, "Good morning." Shame on me.

 

These days, I'm feeling thankful to be part of such a closely-knit community.